Highlessins

No words.

Today John Price hated everyone. Well, almost everyone.

He was urgently called into work this morning because of some paperwork that couldn't be postponed. And it seems like no big deal – John often gets pulled in like this on weekends, he's used to it.

But not today.

Today, John wanted to spend the day with the love of his life – you. He had planned the whole day, with dinner at a restaurant in the evening. During this dinner, he wanted to give you an incredibly beautiful and expensive necklace, which was now in his jacket.

And now the whole plan had gone down the drain. The work turned out to be more than just a couple of unfilled documents, and John had to stay until the evening. Time dragged on incredibly slowly, and when it seemed like it couldn't get any worse, he got a message from you.

Honey, I know you're busy, but I wanted to ask if you still love me, because you looked angry this morning when you were getting ready:(

John wanted to smash the head of everyone even remotely connected to his emergency call. And then smash his own.

Of course he looked angry this morning. But not at you! How could he even explain himself?

I love you, kitten. I really do. I just didn't get enough sleep this morning. I’m sorry.

It’s okay! Will you be home for dinner?

Yes, I will.

Yay!!!

God, he loves you so much.

As my friend says, fucking Gen Z with their Duolingo lessons.

A little smut below the cut (really little)

Author's notes: This post does not relate to the previous one, it is a different story. I’ve just got really obsessed with the roommate trope lol. Maybe I’ll write another one later.

I couldn't find accurate information about Simon's date of birth, so I used this one.

"Simon, are you here? ", you shouted at the emptiness of apartment. 

It was late at the night, and you had just returned from your birthday party.

"What’s the matter, love? ", he came out his bedroom.

You hadn't seen Simon since early morning when he'd quickly wished you a happy birthday and left the apartment. With him, things were always unclear. You've been roommates for a while, and after of some awkward events, you'd ended up in his bedroom. You started spending the night with him more and more often, but the status of your relationship was vague. Simon never said anything, but he clearly cared about you—he took what was happening between you seriously. You could feel it, but you didn't have the courage to ask him directly.

"Look what my friend gave me!" you said, showing him the cake box.

"Looks pretty big", Simon nodded. You went to the kitchen together.

"And it's heavy as well! Hey, when's your birthday?" you asked, putting the cake box on the table.

"The fifteenth of August," Simon said.

"So it has already passed! You were at home and you didn't tell me?"

"Should I have?"

"Of course you should!" you paused for a moment. "So you’re a Leo, I would never have thought of that! "

"And who do you think I am?" You looked closer at Simon. His arms were crossed, and he had a slight frown.

"I thought you were a Capricorn!"

"No, I guess I’m not", his shoulders relaxed.

He only just realized that you meant zodiac sign, not the actual animal.

"So you don’t celebrate your birthday? "

"No, I don’t", he said.

You wanted to ask why he doesn't celebrate his birthdays, but you bit your tongue. You were sad that Simon doesn't celebrate any holidays. There were absolutely no decorations in the house, and you bought everything yourself.

You looked at the cake and thought about how many birthday cakes Simon hadn't eaten.

An idea occurred to you.

"Let’s celebrate our birthdays." you looked at him.

"What do you mean? "  

"I mean we’re going to celebrate both of our birthdays! "

"Wait, wait, wait", he said, gently taking you by the shoulders. "It’s your day, love. Why would I take away your birthday? "

"You’re not taking it away; I’m sharing it with you! Shared joy is a double joy. And anyway, today is my birthday, so don't argue with me!"

"Okay, okay", he laughed.

***

There were no candles on the cake, but you decided it was good enough as it was. The cake had a drawing on it, a childlike one, of a boy and a girl picking flowers, with "Happy Birthday" written on top.

Simon looked at it for a long time.

And said nothing.

***

The cake turned out to be delicious. Your friend had made it; it couldn't have been otherwise. You ate and chatted. You were used to the dynamic in your relationship where you did the talking and Simon listened. It was even comfortable to be silent with him, but today you felt like talking. You told him about how holidays are celebrated in your family, about how much you love giving gifts. About how life without holidays is boring. You didn't quite understand Simon's expression; he wasn't looking you in the eye when you talked about family traditions and your memories. You were firmly determined to fill this void in his life.

"You know what? It’s time to congratulate you properly", you said, getting up from your chair.

"What does that mean?"

"And that means," you said, sitting down on his lap and putting your hands on his shoulders. His palms immediately found a comfortable place on your waist, "That I'm going to kiss you for every uncelebrated year. You didn’t admit when you stopped celebrating, so I'll start from birth. So, happy birthday!"

And you quickly pecked him on the lips.

At some point, you lost count.

"Wait, hold on. What year was that, the sixteenth? You weren't counting?" you said, looking into his eyes.

"No, I wasn’t", Simon lied.

His hand moved from your waist to your hips.

"Okay then, I'll continue from the sixteenth."

In the end, you congratulated him for the next five years in advance. He didn't protest.

By the time you were done, Simon’s face was red from your lipstick. You laughed trying to clean him with a napkin.

Simon didn’t care about the lipstick. He wished he could stay in this moment forever.

***

"Stay here," Simon put you back in your chair and left the kitchen.

He returned a couple of minutes later with a wrapped box in his hands.

"Here. Happy birthday, love."

"A present? Thank you so much!" You threw your arms around his neck — which made Simon have to lean down to you.

"I couldn't just leave my girl without a present."

"So, I'm your girl now?" you smiled slyly.

"You always have been."

Flowers grew in your heart. What was unclear to you, he had known from the very beginning.

"I don’t have anything for you…" you said.

"It’s okay," he kissed you on the forehead.

You’ve always been forgetful. And you’ve always had a lot of clothes. So you found this t-shirt in your closet at the evening. It was huge, clearly a man’s t-shirt, but you often wore such t-shirts as pajamas. Maybe you were looking for something in the back of the closet, pulled it out and then forgot about it. However, it doesn’t matter.   You put it on after the shower and went to bed. And in the morning you came to the kitchen to have breakfast. Simon Riley, your roommate, was sitting at the table. You've been living with him for about a year, six months of which he's been on deployments. He was a military, and that's all you knew about his work. Your friends tried to discourage you from being a roommate with a strange older man, especially since the rent was so cheap – it could be a trap. But you didn't have any money, you had to live somewhere, so you agreed. You lived well with him, as well as strangers can live. For the first couple of weeks, he pretended that you weren't here. He would say a lazy "good morning," do his own thing, and sometimes go somewhere. You didn't really mind because you were a little afraid that he might do something bad to you. But Simon didn't do anything. Once you treated him to a pie. You're used to cooking for your large family, and you couldn’t possibly finish such a big portion by yourself. Simon seemed slightly off guard when, avoiding eye contact, you offered him to have a meal with you. Yet he accepted. You had no idea that he hadn’t had homemade food in ages. Since then, everything has changed slightly. Simon is used to living with you, sometimes you chatted in the kitchen, sometimes you watched movies and TV shows together. Of course, you were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, and you were afraid to even look at him. Interesting things have started happening between you. For example, you fell asleep in your underwear on the couch in the living room while Simon was on deployment. In the morning, you found out that he had returned home at night. He only came out of his bedroom when you went into yours. You were terribly ashamed; you wanted to move out immediately and never see him again. But Simon was calm, he didn't talk about it, and for a few more days it was awkward for you to look into his eyes. Or when Simon came back from gym one evening and found you in the kitchen. Your eyes and nose were red from crying, and there were wet marks on your cheeks.

"What happened?"  He sat down on the chair next to you, moving a little closer than usual.

And you started talking. You've already cried yourself out, so you just said that you were tired, that nothing was working out for you, and that you shouldn't have started at all. Simon sat and listened. He didn't give you advice or criticize you, although in some ways you were too self-pitying and dramatic. He just nodded and said that everyone is assholes and idiots except you. And you actually felt better. By the end of the evening, you were already laughing, chasing the sadness away from your heart and kitchen. But the most interesting thing happened when you got pretty drunk with your friends at the bar. You came in late at night, and Simon still hadn't slept, which wasn't like him. He was watching some dumb TV show while sitting on the couch. You felt bolder than usual, so you leaned over to his face, surely Simon could feel your drunken breath, and said in a half whisper.

 "You don't think so, but you’re actually a good person"

Because you were drunk, you missed the shadow that passed over his eyes. You had no idea that no one had ever said that to him. You smiled and, swaying slightly, made your way to your room. In the morning, you remembered what happened yesterday, and once again you felt like hanging up the keys and never setting foot in the apartment again. Simon pretended again that nothing had happened, but this time it didn't make it any easier. That’s when you understood you were lost in Simon Riley. It was both hard to fall for him and not to. Quiet, reserved, mysterious — yet with him, you felt secure. You felt truly heard. Men and relationships didn’t interest you much — simply because things rarely worked out with them. There were no broken hearts, just emptiness. But then you realized it wouldn’t be emptiness this time, but a broken heart. You had grown too accustomed to Simon, too enchanted by him. You considered moving out because being near him was almost unbearable: you often forgot your shyness and secretly observed him, feeling a pleasant ache in your chest, and when he left for his last deployment, the apartment felt empty. And here he was back. He was sitting in the kitchen, sipping tea. You waved to him, and Simon silently nodded. Then he looked at you more closely and said in a calm voice:

"That’s my T-shirt".

And he took a sip from his mug. You frowned and opened your mouth to protest, but then you glanced down and noticed a small embroidery on your chest that you hadn’t seen before. It really was his T-shirt. Your face and ears immediately started burning. You covered your hot cheeks, at a loss for words. Simon probably thought you had gone through his stuff and taken his T-shirt! But you hadn’t! Would he believe you?

"I’m sorry! I don’t know how it ended up in my closet! I’ll wash it and give it back to you! I’m so sorry!"

You were so ashamed in front of Simon that you almost burst into tears. You didn't look at him, waiting for a response. You had no idea that he wanted to kiss all your embarrassment off your face, to feel the warmth of your flushed skin under his fingertips.

“Wear it as long as you like, love, I don’t mind,” he said, setting the mug loudly on the table and stepping closer to you. You still refused to meet his gaze.

“But with one condition.” He gently tilted your face up by the chin, and you felt his breath on your lips.

The kiss was so unexpected that your knees almost gave way, but he held you firmly. A flush of embarrassment warmed your skin even more, and Simon, feeling it, smiled against your lips. As he pulled back, his thumb gently caressed your cheek. His eyes were fixed on you. Your hands rested on his chest, your nails scratching him lightly through the fabric of his T-shirt. You lifted your head a little higher, rising onto your toes, and whispered:

“Again.”

That's probably why you fell in love with Simon. As soon as you saw him, you realized that he was an out–of-tune piano that no one would ever be able to tune.

Russian1990s!AU Bandit!Simon Riley x fem!reader T/W: mention of the Afghan war; mention of rape ********************************************

Due to his duty, Simon is very attentive.

So of course he noticed your compulsions.

The way you count cutlery while washing the dishes.

The way you step over the first and last step.

And the way you fight with the dirt around you.

But Simon didn’t know that your obsessions got stronger when he was on deployment.

As if every wrong thing you do will kill him.

In a panic, you came up with new rituals, trying to calm yourself down.

But when he's at home, Simon patiently waiting for you to wash your hands for the third time.

One day he accidentally disturbed you while counting the cutlery.

You were ashamed to start counting from the beginning while he was around, but it was hard for you not to start counting

«I’m sorry for disturbing you», - his words made you blushing. You exhaled and started counting again.

After that you had the conversation about your disorder.

You were terribly embarrassed about your compulsions, but Simon said it was okay.

You felt much better after that.

Simon wasn't mad when your compulsions touched him.

«Please give me your hands», - antiseptic is sprinkled on his palms.

Just because he accepted your disorder didn't mean he wouldn't fight it.

Simon was the one who paid your therapy.

Simon Riley/Ghost

He doesn’t really care about your nationality, because he likes you, not the country where you were born.

The first thing Simon asked you to explain was the Russian swears.

He really liked word «Черт» (Its means «Damn» and also «Devil»)

He will be surprised that Russian food is more diverse than he thought.

Simon did not ironically like the holodec.

He insists on asking you to stop banging on your head if you're talking about something bad.

The first time he visits your apartment, he will not take off his shoes, for which he will receive a withering look

John Price

He doesn't care about your nationality either, but that won't save you from stereotypical jokes.

«Luv how can you be cold? I thought Russian people don’t freeze»

Price is shocked that you are able to drink tea with four tablespoons of sugar and eat marshmallows.

«Take the spoon out of the mug» «No» «Why?» «Its tastes better»

He will ask why he is listed as "Батя" in the contacts and what it means in general.

He doesn’t really like the answer.

Hi! Thanks for request!

Stefan Bekowsky:

Well you and Stefan met at one of the crime scenes: start of street racing or something like that.

He immediately noticed you. Your serious face seemed so cute for him, and while his parther (Cole ofc) actually working on the case, Stefan was talking with you.

"Hey babydoll, don't you mind to meet at the bar?"

"Well, I don't, but only if you will tell me everything about this case", you smiled politely.

That's how Stefan realized that you are not so simple

Stefan is such a gossip boy. He LOVES to talk to you about everything going on in the city, so you have a lot of material for work. However, when he moves to homicide, his stories become more stripped down, and sometimes you don't know much about the case he's working on.

You both often come home from work very late, so you usually have dinner out.

In your articles, you always mention his name first (yes, Cole, you've been passed over here)

Jack Kelso

You met at the bar. You were reading notes while sipping a drink when a man in a blue suit sat down next to you.

"What are you writing, Princess?", he asked.

"His headless body was found near the road...", you looked at his face and laughed. "I'm journalist. Tomorrow it will be in newspaper".

At first, it was hard for Jack to get used to your work. You look too cute for someone who writes about murders and drug crimes.

He loves to cook you dinner, so you love to cook him breakfast.

Jack loves to read every article you write, so sometimes you leave secret messages for him.

You always had the feeling that he was hiding something from you. Something from the past that greatly affects his present. Maybe it's something about the war? You desperately wanted to find out what, but you were afraid.

When Jack started helping Cole, you were shocked: in the middle of the night, Jack called and said that it could be dangerous in the apartment and you should leave as soon as possible.