#ghost riley

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Simon, who's so confused about who he is, what he is, how he's supposed to feel like on the really bad days, he doesn't understand anything and just misses the time where he didn't even have to think about it. Times where he had his mom and Tommy and even when those times were shit, at least he had something real, something that didn't disappear and was certain. When he didn't have to question who he was, because even if he didn't exactly know then, the only thing he had to worry about was what mood his father was in, how to tiptoe around it and find happiness in the moment together with mom and Tommy. When he didn't have to question his place in this world, his worth as a person, as someone deserving of a decent life, one that he was adamant on making for himself. When he didn't have to look over his shoulder every second of every day, fearing where the next blow would come, and how he'd have to face it, if he was capable enough. When he dreamed of finding his person, without feeling the dread he now does at the prospect of someone seeing beneath the mask. When he didn't feel like a mangled mess of the worst flaws the people in his family had, where sometimes he couldn't even think of himself as his own person and rather just some fucked up mangle of people he missed and detested at the same time. Because even with some happy memories, there are so many things that still haunt him about his childhood, that weren't just his fathers doing. And he doesn't want to think about them, doesn't want to feel the anger and hurt and sadness that comes with the revelation that the people he most trusted, were a huge part of why his childhood was how it was. He doesn't want to think, to feel this and he just wants to go home.

He just wants to not feel this way, he just wants to be him.

He just wants to be him.

He just wants to be him.

No hate of any kind will be tolerated - cheating will also not be tolerated - REFER TO MY RULES HERE PLEASE: POLL RULES - You will be BLOCKED immediately (think of this as your one and only warning!) if you don't follow these rules or will get your ship DISQUALIFIED if you cheat.

First half of this is done. Only took me like HOURS. And it still looks funky to me UGH

I keep getting these little simple wishes that I had someone like Simon or Price, men made for the metal of guns and the courage to hold someone's skull in their hands and crush it without empathy, becoming softer for their miss/mister.

Sighh helping you in the shower, even though its hot as fuck, he'll stay with it simply because he wants to touch you more. Groping at your waist and kissing your neck before grunting.

"What's with you?" You question, glancing at him as you try running your fingers through your tangled hair. You hissed to yourself. You hadn't even laid down once today, and they're still fighting at you!

"You taste weird." He sounds sad, in his own gruff manner. He leans back as he let's you reach you grab your comb and climb out the shower. You stand before the mirror to start detangling them. He seems intrigued.

"Wot's all this?"

You hummed, parting your hair with ease as Simon watches you. He palms at the soft fat of your stomach, gaze following the fall of your hair over your shoulders.

"Just products, thinking of braiding my hair again. What do you think?"

He shrugged simply.

"Have no 'pinion. Do wot you want."

You laughed before gently guiding him off, earning a pushy whimper from him of course. You sat down on the rim of the bath and began lathering your fingers in hair products, all the while Simon sat nearby watching you close.

He followed the path of your fingers, the way your curls twisted and fought with your digits, slowly succumbing to the detangling products with work. He found you enthralling, like a mythical creature he knew nothing about and wanted nothing more than to study you.

"Could I learn to do tha'?"

He questioned, eyes slightly glazed from wonder. If he could, he wanted to be able to help you.

"With a few years of practice, maybe," you teased, but he didn't care so long as he could watch you.

"Teach me," he pleaded.

You gave him a look before wetting your comb.

"Later, yeah? You seem to be enjoying yourself fine."

"I miss touchin you."