but all his inhibitions flew out the window the minute he saw you. pretty, giggly, in a big friend group, with most of them fawning over you and giving you tons of attention. he could see why. you seemed to gather attention onto yourself without even trying. it wasn't even anything you did at first. after all, you weren't trying to seduce him.

you weren't perched on a stool scanning the crowded area for someone to buy you drinks and take you home. you were just smiling and focused on the atmosphere in an outfit that's just slightly too revealing to be innocent (after all, when you lean forward against the bar he can see a colorful strip of your thong poking out) and having a grand old time.

you're completely unaware of the way a man about twice your size has gone still on the opposite end of the pub.

simon didn't believe in the childish stories about first sight or fate or any of that cheesy rubbish, but gosh, if you weren't his type on paper come to life...

"oi," johnny nudges simon with his elbow, grinning into his pint. "y'starin' a hole through that one, mate."

simon doesn't answer, too focused on you. he knows he's staring, but he can't peel his eyes away no matter how hard he tries. when you giggle and lean in to hear what one of your friends are saying, your back arched just enough to make his brain start to fog up, he decides to get up and throw all caution to the wind.

he barely remembers crossing the floor, only the way the noise in the pub seems to dim the closer he gets. your friends go quiet when they notice him - the biggest guy in the pub in all black covered in tattoos and scars. "alright?" he nods towards you quietly, not looking at your friends.

your eyes go all wide as he directs his attention onto you, and you shift in your seat, assuming a more proper position as you fight the urge to adjust your clothing or your hair. you don't want to look desperate and showy, but he is hot. older, rugged, and after you. nobody but you. "yeah," you say, giving him a quick onceover. "you?"

" 'm alright too."

your friends exchange looks and a few teasing murmurs, but you don't move away. if anything, you lean closer to him as he towers over you from where you're sitting. it's as if the decision had already been made in your head: you're going to spend the rest of the night with this man.

"can i get you a drink?" he asks, already digging into his wallet to buy you whatever the hell you want, but he knows not to be a dick and assume you want him too. he's delighted - but maintains calm - when you accept his offer with a pleased, "yeah, i'd like that."

his offer of buying you one drink turned to two. two drinks turned into the two of you abandoning your friends to go to a secluded booth and talk about your lives while tipsy and horny. his hand was on your thigh, high up so if he wanted, his pinky could brush against your groin. maybe slide his hand up all the way and cup it in his massive palm. you know you'd let him. you've spread your legs open to accommodate him.

you might've manifested your thoughts into existence, because a few words later, and he was pressing you into the cushy back wall of the booth, one hand holding your throat to keep you still as he kissed you deeply, the other rubbing the heel of his hand against your core, providing just the perfect amount of stimulation to make you twitch and drip into his hand.

you didn't think this man would be the type to finger you in the middle of a pub, but here he was, tugging your bottoms just low enough to be inconspicuous, along with your wet, stringy thong, and pushed a thick finger into you.

he seems to know your body better than you do, and finds your sweet spot on the first curl of his finger inside you. he pushes down on that soft area, rubbing the rough pads of his finger back and forth and coaxing you open enough to slide in a second finger.

just a few seconds after he starts scissoring and twisting his fingers inside of you, you clamp down on him and make a mess, your creamy cum leaking down onto his wrist. he kisses you through it, shushing you so you don't scream and thrash as he pumps his fingers in you throughout your orgasm. any passerby would be clueless to know what he was doing to you.

entranced by the way you cling to him afterwards, all dewy eyed and eager for more, he can't hesitate any longer and fixes up your clothes so he can drag you out of the bar and back to his place.

ᥫ᭡.

simon wakes up to cold sheets and silence. an absence of your body laying beside his. he slides his hands over the spot where you should've been, but feels nothing. no proof that the night before hadn't been a fantasy his brain cooked up in the dark.

you'd abandoned him.

he stares at the mattress he'd had you in just last night. you, who he'd thought while he was balls deep in you, pounding into that sweet, soft, warm hole that fit around him so well, was his actual soulmate sent down from the heavens, had left him after draining him dry like he was some cheap hookup. clearly you hadn't felt the sparks he felt.

your coat's gone. your shoes, your bag. there's a faint trace of your scent in the air; the only thing that told him you'd been there at all. "fuckin' hell." he grunts, sitting up on the edge of the bed and scrubbing a broad hand down his face. no note, no number, no name beyond the first one you'd given him between giggles and drinks. the same one he'd been moaning in your ear last night. moaning. simon doesn't fucking moan, but you were something special. and he'd been so sure he'd see you again when the sun came up.

for someone who never let strangers close, your disappearance shouldn't have mattered to simon. it should've been like every other almost. every other possibility he'd walked away from. but it wasn't. and so as his two days off come to a close, the thought of you sat heavy in his mind. as he packed his kit and returned to the base, he'd managed to convince himself of the only thing that made sense; you were a once in a lifetime mistake. he felt something burn inside him, then go out in a puff of smoke. he decided not to let it bother him. dwindling on it would just make him feel worse.

johnny's the first to spot him when he got in. "oi! Riley!” he jogs over, grin already stretching across his face. "have ya seen already?"

simon barely looks up as he slings his bag onto his bunk. "what."

johnny steps forward to lean smugly into simon's face, clearly enjoying whatever he thought he knew. "did you know your bird is here?"

simon freezes for half a second, then he scoffs. "piss off."

" 'm serious!"

simon straightens slowly, turning to glare at him. "i don't have a bird."

johnny only laughs. "right. keep tellin' yourself that."

simon shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about his friend being an idiot, and went about unpacking. whatever joke johnny was running with, he didn’t have the patience for it. especially not when he was still getting over your disappearance. or rather, your blatant rejection of an actual relationship with him. he needed the range right now. he wanted the familiar weight of a rifle in his hands to settle his thoughts.

luckily for him, it's quiet and near empty when he arrives. a few lads are already set up, with the occasional cracks of gunfire booming through the space. simon goes straight to the lockers to close his fingers around the grip of a rifle-

-at the exact same time someone else does. he looks down, preparing to yank it out of their grip with a grunt and tell them to get their bloody own, when he sees you standing there, looking up at him with wide eyes.

for a second, he thinks his mind is playing a cruel trick on him to taunt him about the loss he's pretending to be unaffected by, but as he feels his fingers skim yours, he knows this is real as day. you're standing there in fatigues, eyes focused on him hard. you have an expression on your face that's half startled and half mortified.

"oh," you breathe.

simon has absolutely no idea what to say, and so a silence passes between the two of you that's painfully, unbearably awkward.

he releases the rifle first, stepping back and out of your way. his eyes flick to the ground. he knows looking at you for more than a second might give something away. he recalls you saying something about being a military brat and following in your family's footsteps, but he didn't really think you were serious. when you were telling him about it while in the pub, tipsy from the drinks he'd been buying you, he thought you were just saying that to have things in common with him, and now here you are.

"didn't-" he clears his throat. "didn’t know you were assigned here."

you nod too fast. "yeah, uh... same."

more silence.

you reach for a different rifle,, causing him to step aside and hunch his shoulders awkwardly. his heart is thudding weirdly and he can feel that horrible sensation of rejection once more as you brush past him like nothing... like he didn't creampie you a few days ago, take care of you after, and put you to bed. you head off to the furthest open spot in the range and don't look back at him.

and that’s how it starts. from that moment on, everything between you becomes a mess of near-misses and badly timed glances. you start avoiding him without even meaning to at first - opting for the long way down the corridors if you hear his voice. You switch benches in the mess hall if you spot him coming near you. you volunteer for drills that keep you on the opposite side of the base.

it's all because the memory of being with him, the warmth of his body on yours and all the sickeningly intimate, heartfelt things he'd whispered in your ear as he fucked you slow and sloppy had felt way too fast and confusing for you. all the feelings that had risen up in you hadn't helped either.

it doesn't matter. you didn't owe him anything. it was one night of mistakes and letting your guard down with a man who'd gotten attached to you too fast. that was his fucking fault, not yours. but it's hard to hold onto that logic when you keep catching him staring at you anytime you're in sight.

simon, for his part, is not doing so hot.

the man's never been good at hiding what he feels - after all, he usually doesn't feel much at all. but now, realizing as the days pass and the more he sees you and thinks of your night together, how perfect you were for him when he fucked you, how you seemed to finish each other's sentences in the bar and feed off each other's energy, the more he just wants to get you back.

and until then, he's been irate, even quieter than usual, and distant with all, even his friends.

"you're not still on that one, are you mate?" kyle asks one afternoon. "y'gotta let it go. 's just a hookup, plenty of others'll want you."

simon tightens his grip on his kit and stalks off.

he wants to talk to you. but you make it bloody impossible, with the way you walk off briskly and turn your back on him whenever he gets close. he's not much better, really. the few opportunities he's had during moments of forced proximity between the two of you had been wasted; he'd been too tongue tied and fucking caught up in his own head to articulate himself.

meanwhile, you think you're getting good at avoiding him. you've mastered the timing of ducking out of rooms just before he enters and pretending to be busy when he's close enough to attempt interacting with you. it's been working, until it doesn't.

"oi." the sound of simon's voice makes your stomach drop. you'd been cutting through one of the quieter hallways by the training rooms to practice combat skills when simon had come up behind you out of nowhere. you don't stop walking as he addresses you.

"don't," you say quickly, your voice coming out harsher than intended. "i'm busy." you take a few more steps before attempting to make a turn, when somehow, someway, the tank of a man ends up in front of you. he's not grabbing or manhandling you, but blocking your path to keep you from going anywhere without force. somehow there's not a single soul around but the two of you. no one to rescue you from this long overdue confrontation.

"been tryin' to talk to you for days," simon says quietly, his voice laden with frustration and a touch of hurt. "you keep scamperin' off like 've done somethin' to you."

"... just leave me alone, riley," you mutter.

he shakes his head down at you, eyes narrowing as he listens to the unsure defiance in your tone. he can tell you don't know what you want. that you're embarrassed about running and evading him for weeks now without an explanation. "no." he says stiffly.

you lift your chin. "what?"

"said no." simon leans in a fraction to tower over you a little more, making sure you won't run or continue this ridiculously childish cat and mouse game. but he still leaves a smidge of an opening for you to take a breather or back off if you want to. at least if you left him now, he'd tried. it'd help him get the closure he's looking for, even though he wants to be with you more. "you know how that feels? wakin' up and you're just gone, without a note, number, nothin'. i thought i'd made the whole bloody thing up in m'head."

your voice drops in volume. "it was one night."

"for you, maybe."

the sentence comes out before he can stop it, and there it is. the words he's been trying not to say since the moment he saw you again. how you're not understanding how he's feeling because that night hadn't meant to you as much as it did for him. this is the make or break point, where you agree. say: "yeah, it was just one fuckin' night, get over yourself." or "no, it wasn't one night. it meant a hell of a lot more to me than you think."

as you stare up at him and take in his words, you see that his anger is still there, sure, but underneath it is him being vulnerable and laying his feelings out to bare to you. you can't keep yours in much longer if he keeps doing this with you. "you don't get it," you whisper. "i wasn't trying to hurt you."

"then what were you doin', lettin' me fuck ya 'n ditching me before i could wake up to say goodbye?" he demands, "because from where i was standin', you came into my life, turned it upside down that night, and walked out like it meant nothin'."

"that's not fair and you know it."

simon laughs breathlessly. "neither was you disappearin', love. wasn't bloody fair to me."

you shake your head. "you should've let it go, there's someone else out there for you that'd be better than me. i don't even know what i want right now." you say.

"can't let it go. i know what i want, and i'm gonna work damn hard to get it." his eyes soften as he sees you start to relax and see how sincere he's being. how serious he is about you. "i tried to forget you, y'know that? told myself it was just a night. then i see you at the range and suddenly 'm right back there, wonderin' if i'd ever get another chance to ask who you are."

you don't answer him at first because your mind is all clogged with a thousand thoughts you've been trying not to think of since the night you creeped out of his bed. you feel it all too. you want him like he wants you, but you just don't know how to put it out there the way he is. a part of you still thinks this is one big joke. that he's not serious about this and is just making fun of you because he knows you're the one who's worryingly infatuated with him.

your overthinking reaches simon. "talk to me." he says quietly.

"you wouldn't understand."

"try me."

you shake your head, doubting he'll understand all the weird, confusing excuses you have for not wanting to be with anyone. "i don't want to get attached. it'll turn into something i can't control."

simon's brow furrows slightly. "you wanna control me?"

"it's not like that..." you whisper. "you were never supposed to be more than a night. but you weren't going to be if i stayed."

"so you ran."

"i panicked, b-but i didn't mean to. i liked you too much and didn't know what to do with myself."

for a long moment after he takes in your words, he just studies you. then he speaks again. "you know what i did when i woke up and you were gone?" he murmurs, and you shake your head in response, bracing yourself for what he's about to say.

"laid there like a bloody idiot wonderin' what i'd done wrong." a small, bitter huff of a laugh.

"i didn't mean to make you feel like that." you say as he moves forward again.

"i know." simon says quietly "but it doesn't change that i've been thinkin' about you every damn day since."

He reaches out slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. his knuckles brush your cheek. you can feel him coming closer, and you lean in on instinct. suddenly he's right there, and you're looking up at him and there's not enough room to breathe. his voice drops to a rough whisper. "if i tell y'i'm gonna kiss you right now… you gonna tell me to stop?"

you don't. you shake your head and start to close your eyes, and his mouth is on yours before you can think better of it. his hands slide under your thighs and around your back, and he lifts you off your feet without breaking the kiss, taking you back to the barracks to show you just how much he missed you since you left him.

see more in my cod masterlist!

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read part two

A month later, after grinding asses through missions that left them bruised and exhausted : Ryan invited the team to his place.

“My mansion” he said casually. “Drinks, food, partners welcome.”

Simon arrived in a hoodie and jeans, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Felt wrong. Naked, almost. His gear was his skin - this was exposure.

The gates opened and oh my...

Johnny whistled low. “Fuck me. That’s not a house, that’s a statement.”

Inside, the place was immaculate. Art everywhere - real art, not the mass-produced shite.

Gaz chuckled "Sergeant's doing fine huh. Economic dude type shii yo".

Simon stopped in front of a painting, admiring it. A J.M.W Turner. Soft strokes. Soft colors. A softer voice –

“Good eye.”

He turned.

You stood there, smiling softly. Calm. Confident. In a simple sweater and jeans.

He huffed. “Dunno much ‘bout paintings.”

You smile brighter hearing his cute as hell accent. Where was he from...You wanted to tell him how sweet it sounds but your husband would be pissed if he knows. He was taller than Ryan. And by the looks of it, more built too.

"Yeah but admiring it means knowing" you smile looking at his hoodie. He looked uncomfortable in it. Aww poor man. Would he like some comfy pajamas —

Ryan’s voice cut in. “Babe! Everyone’s here waiting.”

Simon stiffened at the word. And more so at the tone.

You disappeared briefly, then returned carrying a massive bowl of steaming biryani. The smell hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Guys I made biryani" you smile proudly.

Soap groaned. “Jesus Christ. That’s the tiffin woman.”

You laughed softly. “Guilty.”

“I’m serious” Soap said. “We’ve all been obsessed.”

“I just love cooking, I –”

Ryan waved his hand dismissively. “It’s just a hobby, guys.”

He smiled, pulling you closer. “This is Y/N, my wife.”

He patted his lap trying to get you to sit.

You rolled your eyes immediately. “Behave,” you muttered, stepping away.

Simon’s jaw clenched. Does he think you can't speak for yourself or what.

You shot Ryan a look, then picked up a plate and walked straight to Simon.

“You must be Ghost” you said gently. “Lieutenant, yeah?”

He looked up.

Fuck.

Up close, you were worse. Better. Hair tied up in a loose bun. Steady hands. Knuckles red - were you kneading dough with hands....And smelling of spices itself.

“Aye” he nodded coming back to senses. “That’s me.”

You filled his plate carefully. Thoughtfully. And very generously.

“Hope you’re hungry.”

“I–yeah” He stopped. Tried again. “Smells…unreal.”

He ate one small bite thinking you'll walk off to serve other guys. But no, you stood right there hands on your hips waiting for him to review it.

"Come on eat. You're a big man. You need a bigger plate" you huff shifting rice onto a bigger plate waiting for him. God you were one bossy woman. But why were you married to a prick?

Christ.

He took another bite sighing. “It’s… really nice, miss” he said quietly. "Uh..." his mind lost in flavours now.

"That bad?" you chuckle.

"That good" he mumbles shoving another spoonful.

Your smile softened. “I’ll pack some for you then. For home.”

Home.

The word lodged in his chest like shrapnel.

At three in the morning, Simon sat on the floor of his cold flat, back against the couch, eating reheated biryani straight from the container. What would it take for him to have something like this everyday?? And with a cute note on top.

"Yeah..must be nice" he mumbles eating quietly.

Warm. Comforting. Like home.

That’s someone’s wife, he told himself.

Pack it in.

_________________________________________

A month later, he sat in a high-end restaurant waiting on an informant, staring at the menu like it had personally offended him.

“These prices are criminal” he muttered.

The waitress approached. “Ready to order, sir?”

“Uh… beef borgin… borgui–fack.”

“It’s beef bourguignon pot roast” she said calmly.

That.damn.voice.

Simon froze. He looked up.

You.

Apron on. Hair tied. Same eyes. But more professional.

“Oh” he said stupidly. “It’s you. Y/n. You work here?”

“Aye.”

“Waitressing, then” he nodded. “Decent gig, I suppose.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, sir. I own this place.”

He frowned eyeing your apron “Workin’ here don’t mean yeh own it.”

“I own it” you repeated gently. “And about ten others. This one’s my favourite.”

His mouth opened.

Closed.

“What?”

You leaned closer, lowering your voice. “Order whatever you want, handsome. It’s on the house.”

Then you walked away.

Simon immediately Googled you.

Michelin star. Founder. A wiki article for fucks sake!!!

Ryan’s voice echoed in his head: It’s just a hobby, guys.

He scoffed. “Lyin’ prick.”

A waiter appeared, stacking more plates in front of him.

“Boss said to give these to the handsome man” the kid said before sprinting off.

Simon stared down at the food.

His ears burned.

“Handsome” he muttered. “Christ.”

She called me handsome. And I ain’t even got the balaclava on.

He ate every bite. Cleaned the plates. Nearly licked his fingers. Hell even his shirt was tighter now.

And for the first time in a long while –

Simon Riley smiled. Ear to ear. He smiled.

The next day in the training room, he saw Ryan laughing with the lads.

Simon cracked his knuckles.

“Oi” Soap said cautiously. “Easy, mate.”

Simon’s eyes stayed locked on Ryan.

“Don’t worry” he muttered. “Won’t kill ‘im.

"Just feelin’ the urge.”

PART 2 HERE

......................°•🫖*ੈ✩‧₊˚🥣*👩🏻‍🍳°......................

MASTERLIST 🥠

you finished using the restroom and went to the sink. you washed your hands and met simons eyes in the mirror. "sleep well?" you asked.

simon hummed, bringing an arm up to his tummy. he was trying to hide himself from you. "me too, you're so comfy." he didn't expect you to say that. he didn't respond to you, only staring at you as you fixed your hair.

"do you notice anything different?" he suddenly asked after a few seconds. you turned around to look at him. your eyes went from his head to his toes. "hm... you shaved?"

simon nodded. "oh, um yes, but that's not what i meant. anything else different?"

you studied him for a minute and frowned. "i don't see anything."

simon stared at you for a second. did you really not notice the pudginess of his tummy? it was so obvious.

"you dont see anything? really?" he asked one more time.

"other than you looking more healthier and brighter, no, i dont."

healthier and brighter, that's what you thought of him. he did notice his eyes starting to brighten up. he was getting the rest he needed. even his scars were getting softer after you made him put moisturizer on them so they wouldn't get dry.

"why are you asking?" you asked softly, hands coming up to his waist. he tensed under your touch and you felt it.

simon didn't say anything for a bit. his eyes were everywhere except you when he said, "you don't notice the fat i've got?"

you look at his tummy. honestly, you found it adorable. he was finally relaxing and letting himself live.

you shrugged. "not really. whats wrong with a little weight gain anyway?"

simon frowned. "you used to compliment my body when i was fit. i guess i just...i guess i thought maybe you didn't like my body anymore now that it's more softer."

you laughed. not in a mean way but in a you're-an-idiot-but-i-love-you type of way.

your arms wrapped around his middle tightly. "i love your softness. it's like a pillow. it's even better because it's you. a little weight gain isn't gonna stop me from loving you, si."

he felt relieved. he rested his hands on your cheeks and smiled. "i'm still hot?" you laughed and nodded. "very."