#nella writes

Yes Simon is very girl dad coded BUT i imagine him as wanting a big family (3-4 kids) once he decided to start a family (I picture 2 older boys and twin baby girls😭).

He never thought about having kids, with his past and his profession, but that all changes once you two meet. And then, after the first kid, he just can’t get enough of it. All he can think about is how good you look carrying his babies and caring for them.

He loves getting home to the absolute chaos of children running around in every direction, laughter and yells echoing in the house. The first thing he would do is draw you a bath, bring a glass of your favourite drink and let you rest while he gets the kids ready for bed. He would then give you a massage once the kids are sleeping, telling you how good you look taking care of his children.

In the morning, the would let you sleep in, having the boys set the table while he does the girls’ hair, clipping multi-colour hair clips all over their head. He would wake you up once the kids are ready, table is set and he has started cooking breakfast.

During the week, he was the one that got the kids under control, teaching them young the discipline of a soldier. He would have them do chores around the house and learn how to do things by themselves from a young age.

But during weekends… it was total chaos. You would lay on the couch, reading a book and drinking some tea your husband made, while your kids ran around in every direction. Sometimes they would play tag, the four of them running trying to catch Simon. Other times, they would play football in the backyard (and sometimes inside the house, until you give Simon a warning look).

But their FAVOURITE game was special ops. Simon would hide while the kids looked for him, covered in toy gear from head to toe. Obviously, wearing masks, just like their daddy. They would wreak havoc, sponge bullets flying in every direction, and Simon would not spare them.

He would jump from balconies, hide in bushes, even going as far as setting up cameras to surprise them. Most of the time, you would just watch in awe, laughing your ass of. On some occasions, you would secretly form and alliance with your husband, hiding a small water gun under the couch pillow, jumping the kids when they eventually came to you for help, trying to bribe Simon’s location out of you with snacks.

Imagine Simon being secretly obsessed with you

You and Simon met at a bar while he was out with Jhonny. Soap tried to get your number, but you had just broken up with your boyfriend, so you weren’t ready to move on. You let him buy you a drink, later sitting on the table with him and Simon, since the small place was crowded and you didn’t feel like standing up. After a couple of rounds, you’re talking about how your ex-boyfriend cheated on you, and Soap won’t stop saying he could help you forget him if you would just let him get between your legs.

You politely decline, and the three of you spend the rest of the night drinking and laughing, getting along surprisingly well. Although Simon is more social after a few beers, he’s still not much of a talker, preferring to spend most of the night listening to you and Jhonny talking. By the end of the night, Jhonny ends up getting your number after all, but so does Simon. You tell them you just moved into town, and could use some company.

With time, the three of you become friends, and you are later introduced to Kyle and Price during one of the many nights you meet Simon and Jhonny for drinks at the same bar. You never understand what exactly they do, but you don’t really care, it is nice to have some friends for a change (even if they are oddly secretive men with incredible muscles) .

Soap never misses a chance to flirt with you, even though he is well aware that, by now, he is deep into the friendzone.

Simon, on the other hand, spends the whole night listening to you, never once making an inappropriate advance. A perfect gentleman. No matter how small the problem, he’ll notice right away when something is bothering you. “What’s the matter, love? Someone at work giving you a hard time?” He’ll ask, using his fingers to tilt your chin up and look you in the eye. You sit beside him on the crowded bar, and tell him all about your problems. You rant about how your boss is too demanding, how the coffee from the shop you get your daily dose of caffeine from is getting too expensive and how you car is making a weird noise. Simon listens to you, nodding along the conversation and taking long sips from his beer.

The next day when you go to work, you notice the sudden silence that surrounds you on your drive, realising only a few minutes later that the weird metal clanking that used to come from the back of your car is gone. Your day gets even better when you stop at the coffee shop across from work and see that they were lowering the price of drinks due to “management changes”. You don’t even bother asking what that means, simply strolling into work with a smile on your face, ready to tackle all the issues your boss is bound to raise about the last stack of paperwork you handed him. But when you open your email, you’re shocked to see that all that your boss had to say was “Keep up with the good work”.

You immediately text Simon about how your problems seem to be melting away since you last talked to him. He’s pleased to hear that, and tells you that he’s always available for you if you need to talk. You come to the conclusion that talking to him and putting your problems out into the universe is manifesting some serious luck into your life.

Simon becomes your lucky charm. You don’t know what it is, but just talking to him seems to make all problems go away. Suddenly, there isn’t a part of your life you haven’t shared with him. From family problems to leaking sinks, he’s listening to you with a cigarette on his mouth, always looking into your eyes like you’re the only person in the world.

“Seriously, Simon. Thank you so much for listening to me complain all the time. I don’t know what I would do without you. Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person I can talk to.” You tell him one day over a cup of tea, after confessing to him that your ex-boyfriend had been stalking you for the last few days, but that you were too scared to go to the police.

“I’ll always be here for you, love.” He says as he wipes a stray tear from your cheeks. You feel them heat up at Simon’s sudden contact. What you don’t sense is the possessiveness that hides behind his words, the warmth that floods his eyes when he looks at you, only to quickly fade away when his eyes divert. Simon smiles, his face concealed by his mask, and the crinkle in his eyes translates to you a kindness that deceives the desire that seeps from his mouth.

Because, oh, how you had fallen into his trap. His perfect little angel, who now can’t go through a mild inconvenience without talking to him. Who isn’t afraid to confess her darkest secrets to him, and let him into her life without any hesitation.

Since he first saw you at the bar, he couldn’t believe how naive you were. Immediately telling him where you lived, how long you had been into town for and that you didn’t have many friends, since you had transferred in for work and your boss made you stay extra hours. You had no idea how dangerous of a man he was. Simon couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to control you, to make you all his. While Soap distracted you with his nonsense flirting, Simon indulged himself wondering how long it would take to manipulate you into thinking you needed him, and how good it would feel when you finally gave yourself up to him. His obsession grew, and there wasn’t a night where he didn’t think of you on your knees in front of him, a pretty thing, reduced to his worshipper.

He wanted you to need him, to crave him, to be addicted to his words and to his touch. So he listened to you, he let you cry on his shoulder and hug him when you were lonely, he picked up every time you called and answered your messages with meaningful words. He played the long game, and now there you were in front of him, fragile and broken, waiting from him to pick up the pieces, waiting for him to cast his “good-luck” spell and make it all go away.

But it was never about luck. Simon was the one who sneaked into your garage and fixed your car, blackmailed your favourite coffee shop into lowering their prices and roughed up your boss inside his own office. He made a key to your house so he could make repairs without climbing the window, taking his time to watch you while you slept, happily unaware. He threatened your relatives when they made you upset and your ex-boyfriend… Well, he might not survive this one. Simon had already given him a beating the night you two met, when you told him he had cheated on you. Back then, he had only known you for a day. Now, you belonged to Simon, even if you weren’t aware, and nobody messed with what was his.

Word Count: 2,9 K

Content: Toxic and manipulative behaviour, mention of blood, swearing.

Part 1

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When Johnny invited you to the bar that day, you were reluctant to go. Even though you could use the night off, the mere thought of seeing him paralyzed you in fear. Two weeks ago, Simon came to your flat to keep you company. The two of you had ordered takeout and eaten it while you talked about your life. Simon was always so attentive, his eyes looking at you with pure worry and care, and it made your insides twist every time you felt yourself under his gaze. 

Your whole life you had wished, dreamed, ached for someone to look at you the way Simon did. But at the same time, it felt like a paradox. Simon saw you, but he didn’t see you. You knew he didn’t feel the same way about you because Simon Riley never needed anyone. Not only did the two of you have nothing in common in terms of lifestyle, you also had completely different expectations for a romantic life. 

You wanted someone to live a movie romance with, someone who would crave you just as much as you did them. A man who was rough around the edges but melted when it came to you, fighting off the whole world while holding you tight to his chest. And every time you looked at Simon, it was a sour reminder that you had all you ever wanted within arms reach, but were never able to grab it.

He was from a different world, where people were tough, solved problems with their fists, and faced their fears with all their might. Someone as strong as Simon would never go for someone as fragile as you. What could I ever give him? The question would pound in your head when you felt lonely, a reminder that you had nothing to offer but timid confessions and a feeble mind. But even knowing that, you still came back to him, because he was the silver lining on your cloudy days. 

So you tortured yourself, over and over again, spilling your guts out to him over tea, movies, and walks in the park, entertaining the idea that he needed those moments as much as you did, only to come back to the darkness of your flat and coldness of your bed. Alone.

You found yourself whining about your problems again, that fateful day, two weeks ago. It wasn’t uncommon for Simon to go to your house to comfort you, and instead of dismissing the pity party, you would bake the cake and provide the entertainment. Sometimes, Simon would get a phone call or a text, but he never stopped your rambling to pick it up, opting to quickly look at the name on the screen before putting his phone on silent.

Until that day. 

You had been talking about your coworker, who you were sure was stealing your pens, when he said “Hold on, I have to take this”. Amidst your shock and neglect, you managed to capture a name on the screen of his phone. Sarah. You could feel the knot forming on your throat, while simultaneously feeling like you were about to throw up all the food you had just eaten. Fucking Sarah? Who the fuck is she? A party wrecker, at least. Setting in flames the walls of the scenario you had built. This wasn’t a date, it was a favor a good soldier did for the helpless girl he met. You were hopelessly attached to him like a leech on a vein, feeding from another being’s nurture, just to be pulled without courtesy from your shelter and chucked to the side to rot under the scolding sun.  

The longer he spent on his phone, the more visible the tethers that united the two of you became, and with each laugh he let out, the weaker they became, falling on the floor like loose and meaningless strings. That day you realized you needed to stop this parasitic relationship before it got worse. The two of you were just friends after all, yet there you were, wanting to rip your hair out every time you heard the other woman’s voice coming through the speakers on his phone. 

Your luck hadn’t been good lately, in fact, it had become increasingly worse since you started ignoring Simon, two weeks ago. You couldn’t deny that talking to him was like having someone take all the weight off your shoulders, but it was time to be a big girl and move on. You needed to learn how to live without him and deal with your own problems, instead of dumping them on someone else. Besides, alcohol was always a good friend when times were bad, and you knew you could never say no to going out with Johnny, especially because he always paid for your drinks. 

So you put your best clothes on, styled your hair, and did your makeup. That way, even if you saw Simon, you wouldn’t look like a complete loser, even though you had been soaking alone in your own misery all this time. Your problems were piling up throughout the day, resting above your bed during the night and avalanching you in the morning, now that you didn’t have Simon to magically make them go away. So, if you were to start dealing with your problems by yourself, facing him should be on priority on that list. It took all your strength not to cower and go back under the comfort of your covers, but you put your high heels on and made your way to the bar.

You took a breath to calm yourself down before opening the doors of the bar, not giving yourself time to change your mind and… Oh, how you regretted your decision the moment you walked in and saw Simon sitting at the table, a glass of whisky on one hand and a woman’s waist on the other. But it was too late to turn around because a certain Scot had already seen you. 

“Aye, lass! Over here!” He said, bearing a smile so wide you could see all his teeth. “I told ya she would come.” He turns to Simon for the last sentence.

Simon takes a sip of his glass, hiding the small smile that escaped his lips, visible due to the small folds he had made on his mask in order to place it on top of his nose. But he knew you would come. He had dealt his cards carefully so that he could safely bet on your return to him. He wraps his arms tighter around the other woman’s waist as you approach their table. “This is Sarah”, he introduces her to you. “She’s a Sergeant.”

You want to barf at the sound of pride in his voice. It doesn’t help that the woman in front of you is gorgeous, exactly the type you knew Simon would go for. You can see her defined muscles under her shirt, and her impeccable posture. She has a tall pint of Guinness on the table in front of her, and a small scar on her left eyebrow that somehow makes her more attractive. The tone of her voice is confident as she introduces herself to you, making an effortless conversation the whole night. Not only that, but she makes Simon laugh. You feel yourself wanting to jump across the table and grab her by the neck, even though she would probably knock you out before you even made it to her side. 

Simon watches you with silent joy, noticing the venom that seeps from your mouth with every smile you make toward Sarah. He can sense the longing in your voice when you talk to him, desperate for his attention, and it’s like music to his ears hearing you after so long. He knew it would be a hard couple of days, or however long you could handle without talking to him before falling back into his arms. It was a risky game that he had played with excellence - leading you to believe you were in control of the situation, choosing to distance yourself from him. It was all calculated, letting you see Sarah’s name on his phone, telling Sarah you would be free to call at that time when he knew he would be with you. It had hurt him to see your suffering, but he needed you to walk away to realize how much you would miss him, and he could see that it had worked. Every crumb of attention he gave to you now was like watching a drug addict relapse into their first high.

The jealousy that seeped from your pores was the best part, he thought. It was a result of pure, unaltered desire, condensing into spikes on your skin that you mentally flicked into Sarah’s direction. Watching his innocent girl fight the urge inside her to go ballistic was a delight. Because you were his girl, even though you didn’t know it yet. He sat comfortably in his chair like he was in a movie theater, spectating from the front row all the conflicting emotions that you screened on your face. 

“I’m going out for a smoke.” He said after some time, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t have to look back to know you were following him, probably after delivering some bullshit excuse to the table. He welcomed the fresh air outside the bar and walked to a corner, your footsteps following behind him. He lit his first cigarette as you approached him. “Smoking now?” The humor is clear in his voice, but you don’t fall for it.

“Started last week. Not that you would know.” You say a blatant lie, holding out your open palm for him to give you a cigarette. 

“I don’t know what this fuss is all about.” His tone is dismissive, knowing where the conversation was heading so he acted like you were making a situation out of nothing. “You’re the one that started ignoring me for no reason.” He gives you a cigarette and you take it to your mouth, both of you fully aware you don’t smoke. But you’re not backing out of any challenges tonight, so when he lights it, you take a long drag of smoke, holding it in your lungs for a few seconds before letting it out. 

“How long have the two of you been dating?” He laughs at your question, shaking his head while he takes a drag of his cigarette. “How long?” You insist. 

“You really think that I would date her?”

“That’s exactly the type I think you would date.” 

“Really? How so?” He’s in front of you now, centering you between him and the wall. He smiles sarcastically while he turns to blow the smoke away from your face, acting like this is all some joke.

“Beautiful, strong, same job as you…” You trail off, fidgeting with the cigarette on the tip of your fingers. “The list goes on.”

“Does it? It seems like a pretty short list to me.” He shrugs, and you can’t help but notice how his muscles flex under his shirt. “How have you been?”

You scoff at the sudden change of topic. “Like you care, Simon.” Deciding you’re done with the conversation, you drop your barely smoked cigarette to the ground, using your foot to put it out, a motion you’ve watched Simon repeat a thousand times. Whenever he smoked, he always made sure you were okay with it first - and if it were anyone else, you wouldn’t be, as you loathed the smell of nicotine. But with him, it was different, everything was. You would watch as his arms flexed, the details of his tattoo poking out from his sleeve as he put the cigarette in his mouth. Hypnotized by his lips, you would try to be discreet, observing the smoke dissipate in the air when he exhaled, dreaming of what his mouth would taste like if you were to kiss him at that moment. 

Before you can leave, he puts his hand on the wall at the same height as your head, caging you with his body. You hold your breath, wide-eyed, looking up at him in surprise, as he disposes of the cigarette with his other hand.

“Of course I care.” Simon loved catching you by surprise, relishing the look in your eyes as you waited for his next move, completely frozen. He adored how you surrendered all control to him without ever noticing it, inert until his gestures gave you permission to move. It was almost like a dance, as you helplessly waited for him to guide you into the next step.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand, taking time to observe each feature as he let his hand follow down your face, finally landing on your lips. Resting his hand on your chin, he runs his thumb over your soft lips. He wondered what your lips would taste like if he were to kiss you at this moment. 

He could see the rapid movement of your chest, your sweet heart thumping under your ribcage. You dry-swallowed as you tried to calm down your breathing, fear mixing with lust in your veins as you came to the realization of how much power Simon had over you, not just physically, but emotionally. You knew then that there was nothing you wouldn’t do for another chance to have him touching you like this again, so delicately, so intimately. You couldn’t care less if he were to kill you right now, it would have been worth it just for having him look at you like you were the only woman in the world. 

“Stop lying to me, Simon.” He hadn’t even kissed you, yet you knew no other man would ever make you feel that way. You wanted to hate him for leading you on, for listening to you like no one else ever had, knowing it didn’t mean the same to him. But you couldn’t, because this one-sided relationship had been all you had thought about since the two of you had met. 

“Lying? Love, why would I ever want to lie to you? Do my actions not speak louder than my words?” He asks with fake innocence, knowing well enough that you didn’t know about his actions. A good girl like you could never imagine all the things he had done, all the work he did in the shadows, covered in blood and gunpowder so you could sleep safely at night. So he could come back to you with peace of mind, knowing he got his hands dirty so you wouldn’t have to. 

“I can’t do this.” You’re talking to yourself at this point, confessions slipping from your lips in the heat of the moment. “I kept lying to myself thinking that I would be okay with you being with another girl, but I can’t Simon. I can’t handle the thought of sharing you with someone else.”

“You are so oblivious.” He says, taking a step forward and closing the distance between you. His hand moves from your chin to the nape of your neck, intertwining his finger with your hair and softly pulling it, securing you in a firm grasp. “You really think it’s been the Universe solving your problems all this time, huh?” He chuckles, clicking his tongue. His other hand moves down to your waist, grabbing it with a firm grip as he presses you against the wall. “Let me give you a hint. The Universe didn’t beat your bloody ex-boyfriend into a pulp.”

If your eyes could have physically widened more, they would have. Your mind is brought back to the day Simon showed up at your flat at 5 am, his fists bloody and covered in bruises. He had told you it was from a bar fight and you believed him. You had taken him to the kitchen, where he sat on the isle while you positioned yourself between his knees, wet cloth in hand. You took care of his bruises and washed the blood off his hand, not realizing until now it was your ex-boyfriend’s blood. You fell asleep on the couch with Simon afterwards, while you ran your hands through his hair and told yourself that whoever he had hurt must have deserved it. When you woke up to your friend calling you to deliver the news that your ex was in the hospital, beaten beyond recognition, Simon shushed you and convinced you to go back to sleep in his arms. 

It made sense now, why sometimes the coffee shop would charge cheaper for your order because of the “skull guy”, but with the owner’s thick accent, you didn’t think much of it, assuming it was a foreign word for “deal” or “promotion”, sipping your coffee mindlessly as you left the shop. 

Not even when your boss made the sign of the cross and muttered “ghost” every time he crossed your path did you ever realize it had been Simon pulling the strings all along.

When you think back to every problem you had told him about, only to wake up to it magically solved, you finally notice that Simon had been looking out for you all this time, not ever worrying about getting credit for his deeds or the consequences they could ever cause him. 

Finally my portal fic has been finished! For anyone wanting a bit of toxic chelldos, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

Chapters: 17/17 Fandom: Portal (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Chell/GLaDOS (Portal) Characters: Chell (Portal), Mel (Portal), GLaDOS (Portal), Virgil (Portal), Emilia Conly (Portal), Wheatley (Portal), Stirling (Portal) Additional Tags: Post-Game: Portal 2, welcome to the ‘fucked up women making each other worse’ show, also featuring some spherical men and a sentient roomba, chell and glados can be read as romantic or platonic but WILL be read as obsessed and repressed, and also weird as fuck, contains spoilers for the main games (including co-op) as well as several fan made mods, let's examine the line between man and machine, and the inherent horror in stepping over it, Enemies to Lovers, well. Sort of

After coming across a strange device and a message calling for help in the ruins of the outside world, Chell finds herself heading back to Aperture, this time in the company of a fellow survivor.