That fucking bird that I HATE
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That fucking bird that I HATE

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it's almost their season
Spooky shadow creature canât find its favorite stick
simon accidently yelled at you
The apartment had gone unbearably quiet after he yelled.
Not the comfortable kind of silence either. Not the kind Simon liked after long missions where the world finally stopped demanding things from him.
This silence was wrong.
You stood by the stove with your back turned, shoulders tense, blinking rapidly like if you just tried hard enough the tears would disappear before he saw them.
Too late.
Simon stared at you like heâd just watched himself pull a trigger he couldnât take back. His chest rose once. Heavy.
â...Fuck.â
The word came out under his breath, barely audible.
You wiped quickly at your face. âItâs okay.â, you whispered , hurt and embarrassment blooming in your chest.
It wasnât okay.
And Simon knew it immediately because your voice did that tiny shaky thing it only did when you were trying very hard not to cry.
He felt sick.
The kind where the person you love looks hurt because of you.
Simon took one cautious step forward. Then another.
âLove.â
You shook your head without turning around.
That hurt more than the tears.
Usually when he came home, you gravitated toward him automatically. Hands on his chest, arms around his waist. Soft little smiles like he was something worth waiting for.
Now you were standing as far away from him as the kitchen allowed.
Because he yelled.
Because he came home carrying all his anger and dropped it right at your feet.
His jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
âDonât do that,â he said quietly.
âDo what?â, you mumbled, trying to smoothen your voice.
âStand there acting like you deserve that.â
You finally turned a little at that, eyes glossy. âSimon-â
âNo.â He scrubbed a hand down his face harshly. âNo, donât excuse it.â
You went silent. He looked wrecked now. More wrecked than when he first walked in.
Rainwater still clung to his jacket. His shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but guilt sat on him even heavier.
âI came home to you,â he said, voice rough. âWarm flat, food on the stove, you waiting for me.â He laughed once bitterly at himself. âAnd first thing I do is bark at you like some miserable prick.â
Your lips parted slightly.
Simon looked away, jaw flexing.
âSpent two bloody weeks thinking about getting back to you.â His voice got quieter. âThen I walk through that door and make you cry inside five minutes.â
The tears you were trying to stop spilled over again.
The second he saw them, he looked genuinely devastated.
Not angry. Not frustrated.
Devastated.
âOh, sweetheartâŚâ
He crossed the room immediately then stopped himself halfway, hesitating.
Simon Riley, who would walk through gunfire without blinking, suddenly looking uncertain about whether he was allowed to touch his own wife.
âYou donât have to comfort me,â you whispered.
That nearly broke him, his eyes shut briefly.
âChrist.â
He finally stepped closer carefully, like approaching a wounded animal. His hands settled lightly on your arms, almost tentative.
âIâm sorry love,â he said again. âI shouldnât have spoken to you like that. Ever.â
You looked down, vision blurring, âI know youâre tired.â
âThatâs not an excuse.â
âI wasnât trying to annoy you-â,you huffed ,choking slightly on the tears.
âI know.â His voice cracked slightly then steadied. âI know you werenât.â
The guilt in his expression got worse somehow.
âYou were taking care of me,â he murmured. âThatâs all you were doing.â
You tried to look away again but Simon gently caught your chin before you could.
âLook at me.â
You did. Big mistake.
The second he saw how hard youâd been trying not to cry, his entire face softened into something painfully guilty.
âDidnât mean to scare you.â, he murmured ,gently cupping your face.
âYou never yell at me.â, you sniffled.
That one hit directly to the ribs.
Simon actually flinched.
His thumb brushed carefully under your eye, wiping away a tear with absurd gentleness for a man built like a concrete wall with emotional constipation.
âI swear to you,â he said quietly, âthe second it came outta my mouth, I wanted to take it back.â
You could hear how honest it was.
Simon wasnât good at pretty apologies. He wasnât poetic, wasnât smooth. But guilt made him painfully sincere.
âI hate that you looked at me like that,â he admitted softly.
âLike what?â
âLike you were trying to figure out if I was angry with you.â
His voice nearly disappeared on the last part. Because that was the thing eating him alive now. The fact that for even one second, youâd looked at him uncertainly instead of safely.
Simon pulled you against him suddenly, firm and desperate, burying his face into your h.air.
âIâm sorry,â he repeated quietly against your temple. âIâm so fucking sorry.â
You felt the way he held you tighter after every apology, like he was trying to physically make up for it.
âI missed you,â he admitted in a low murmur. âMissed you so bad it felt wrong sleeping without you there.â His arms tightened. âThen I come home and act like that.â
Your hands slowly curled into his shirt. Simon exhaled shakily at the feeling.
âThere she is,â he whispered, relief and guilt tangled together. âThought I fucked this up properly for a second.â he mumbled ,inhaling the scent of your hair.
âYou didnât.â
âNearly did.â
And judging by the way he kept pressing little apologetic kisses into your hair like a man trying to repent for his crimes against domestic peace, he was going to spend the rest of the night making absolutely sure you knew he regretted it.
lol yeah i'm procrastinating my long fics TT

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simon's little imaginary (?) wifey
t141 are used to simon muttering about his missus. to be honest johnny and kyle thought he was insane, because there is no way in hell lieutenant simon 'ghost' riley has a wife. especially one that he describes to be so soft and sweet.
when they pry and ask about you, he happily tells details, but will never disclose your name or show them a photo. he just has to keep you alllll to himself. naturally kyle and johnny don't believe him.
18+ mdni simon riley is a horrible lay, everyone says.
thatâs what youâve heard around base, from men and women alike. heâs too fucking big, apparently, fucks like the mean bastard that he is. hurts. apparently, heâs so cold he doesnât even care for his partner. and apparently, every time anyoneâs tried to sleep with him, theyâve always stormed out of his room, pissed off at him because his room is a hellhole.Â
apparently. itâs all word of mouth, but you believe it.Â
but after the end of the month drinks at the local spoons, you can barely get simon off you, heâs pawing at you with his big hands. the two of you split a cider in two, and he looks at you with his big brown eyes, ây- youâre really fucking hot.â he blurts out, kissing your nose with chapped lips.
his face is red, blushing deeply as you try your best to not flush the same. âand johnny told me you canât ever think about the pretty lass on floor 3 with the filing cabinet, but guess what, i can.â he kisses you on the side of your head this time, and youâre enjoying his affections.
itâs only back in his room on base that he fumbles with his belt, before he looks at you again, âs-sorry, itâs just, i donât really get to spend the night with pretty women like you-â
you want to hide your face in his pillows, his room is really fucking nice. he has plants, actual plants growing from gaz, sketch drawings from johnny, photographs of him and the captain.Â
his cock is huge, hard and leaking, slapping against his stomach, but he still looks at you with his sweet brown eyes, âlove, itâs okay if itâs too bigâŚâ he sounds dejected already, but you just shake your head, itâs nowhere near as big what the word around base was.Â
âitâs fine simon-â you whisper, licking your lips and placing kitten licks on his length, feeling the taste of him coat your tongue.Â
âno no no-â he shakes his head, pulling away before his hands touch your wet panties, âfuck, youâre so wet love.âÂ
and then he dives in, tugging them off, before licking at your cunt with a sloppy tongue, he doesnât have a technique down but whatever the fuck heâs doing itâs good, your legs are shaking as his tongue dips inside you.
âgotta make sure itâs good for you-â okay, what the fuck was anyone talking about?
he slides into you with ease, and thrusts into you? his hands above your head, his eyes still looking at you. âyouâre very fuckinââŚÂ mmmphâŚÂ hot.â he says, with a grin on his scarred face that would look terrifying if it wasnât for the way his brown eyes shone with sweetness. Â
it wasnât long before his cock twitches inside of you, and his eyes roll back, âoh fuck love, right thereâ fuck!â he was filling you deep, his cum thick in your stomach.Â
âlove?â he asks, whimpering, his head on your chest, âlove, did you find it good?â heâs desperate for your fucking approval.Â
you kiss his head, his soft curls growing out of army regs.
âyes darling.â fuck the word of mouth, did anyone even try this with him?
âth-thank you dove-â he pants, his cock deep inside you as you keep stroking his hair, feeling his breath even out.Â
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