#soft!ghost

To start off, Simon’s recovery is starting off well. Sure, he’s not used to being off of his feet (from what you’ve heard, he’s something of a workaholic), and, sure, it’s only been a couple of days that you’ve spent with him, but at least he listens when you tell him to sit down and rest. Not without a couple of complaints, obviously.

You don't share a room. Yeah, it's a bummer, but you two hardly know each other, so you came up with an agreement that until you know each other better, and get more comfortable with one another, you wouldn’t force yourselves to share a bed.

You’ve been spending most of your time with him. It's not like you really know anyone on base, though occasionally you do talk with John from time to time -- Price, as the others call him, or “Captain” from the recruits. Most of your conversations are check-ins or are used to work out specifics about what's going to happen from now on. What that means isn’t currently entirely fleshed out, but you’re working on it. Your conversations with Simon, however, range quite a bit. You haven’t touched upon sensitive information just yet -- it isn’t hard to tell that he’s got quite a lot of trauma he's been holding to himself all of these years -- but there's been improvements. You two have been over small details -- your favorite things, family members, those basic first date kind of questions. Sometimes, you just sit in silence together. It gives the both of you a moment of rest from the expectation of conversations.

The problem is that you don't know where his boundaries lie. He hasn’t gotten visibly uncomfortable when you prod a little for more personal information, but he always manages to switch the topic around or change it entirely. Pushing him too hard isn't a good idea in case you lose the building trust, but you also don't want to be stepping on eggshells around him. It doesn't help that he's one of -- if not the most -- emotionally constipated people you’ve ever met, so getting him to open up on his own is going to take quite a while.

A quiet breath leaves you as you exit your room and head to the barrack’s kitchen. Unsurprisingly, it was empty. Most of the soldiers preferred eating at the mess hall, where the food was bearable enough to not complain about. There were too many people and it was a bit too much noise, so you tend to stick to the communal kitchen, which is usually stocked enough to make something simple.

You turn towards the cabinets and look through them, though you’re interrupted not long after by the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Aye, so y’r the bonnie thing tied tae the Lt’s pinky?”

Looking over your shoulder, you’re greeted with the sight of one of the soldiers who had been there when you first saw Simon. Your head dips down to stare at the mentioned string. It was looking better nowadays, still a little frayed but not worryingly so, and was taut, still trying to pull you to Simon.

You look back up at the soldier, turning so your body faced him.

“I am.” You peek behind at the cabinets again. Making yourself something to eat will have to wait, you suppose. “You’re… Johnny, right?”

He nods.

“Y’can call me Soap. Whatever's easier.” He shrugs, a subtle movement. It's quiet between the two of you for a moment. You grab a glass and fill it with water, taking a small sip as Johnny speaks up again.

“Does he keep the mask on during sex?”

You try not to choke on the water.

Carefully, you set it down on the counter before giving the soldier a harsh glare. He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Cannae a man get curious?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, a small smirk making the corner of his mouth lift. All he gets in response is a sigh, so he asks, “How’s it been, anyways? Ah’ve hardly seen him.”

You fidget with the string tied around your pinky, trying to figure out how to phrase what you want to say.

“It's been… slow. It's hard for either of us to open up, really.” A small, awkward laugh follows your remark.

Johnny nods. From what you know, he's the closest one to Simon on base, if not altogether. The two have shared a lot of tense moments together and have that sort of brotherly bond so frequently described between soldiers.

“Y’gotta give him some time. He dinnae ken how tae be vulnerable, ‘specially not with someone he just met.” A pause, then he tacks on a quick, “No offense.”

You take another sip of water, thinking it over. A small silence follows as you wonder what to say.

“Do you know of anything that could help? Or anything that can help him at least get a bit more comfortable?” He thinks about it for a moment.

“Taking y’r time. He may not be patient but he needs someone patient. Cannae find a lot of that ‘round here, ‘specially not with the recruits he has tae train.” A cheeky smile makes its way onto Johnny’s face, though he quickly gets serious again. “Don't let him push you away. He might try but y’gotta be persistent. Persistent and patient.”

You think about his words for a moment longer, before responding with a “thank you,” and a slight smile.

“‘Course. Wouldnae want you tae deal with him all alone. He’s a wee bit bad at emotions.”

“Just a bit?” The quick remark gets a small laugh in response. There’s a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his face.

“Send him mah regards, and tell him I cannae handle the recruits alone anymore.” With a curt nod, he passes me and leaves the kitchen, heading to somewhere else on base. You stand there alone for a moment longer, staring at where he stood.

‘Persistent and patient.’

You could try.

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You head to Simon’s room a little while later, a freshly brewed cup of earl grey tea in one hand, using the other to support it so it doesn't splash around as you walk. You stop in front of his door, raising your free hand to knock, but the door opens before you do.

Simon stands behind the doorway, his eyes immediately meeting yours.

“I made some tea.” His eyes drift to the subtle movement of you bringing the cup closer to him.

He shuffles so the doorway is no longer blocked, silently giving you permission to step inside. As you walk in and place the cup on the nightstand, Simon shuts the door and sits down on the edge of the bed, grunting quietly once the pain radiating in his body alleviates slightly. He adjusts himself to sit comfortably, making sure to face you where you were standing. 

“It’s still a little hot, so wait a bit for it to cool down.” Simon nods, reaching up to take off his mask.

He’s been making an effort to try and keep the mask off while the two of you were spending time together. He confessed that it's not solely an issue with showing his face that makes him uncomfortable, but it's about having the balaclava off. He wears it so often that taking it off makes him feel uncomfortable on an entirely different level.

Simon holds the mask in his hands, looking down at it with slightly furrowed brows. He sighs, lifting his head again to look back at you.

“Love, I… appreciate y’bein’ here f’r me.” He speaks up, causing your focus to go from the mask to him. It was rare for him to initiate conversation, and even more so to start one with this tone.

“If m’being honest, never thought I’d get… this.” He motions between the two of you. “Didn’t believe there was someone in this world tha’ I was meant to be with, not growin’ up ‘nd ‘specially not now.”

You frown, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed with him. It dips slightly under your weight as you lean back on one hand, the other just subtly extended towards Simon.

“You don't deserve not being loved just because of what you’ve gone through.” You start quietly, your gaze drifting down to his hands fidgeting with a couple of frayed ends of the balaclava. “If anything, I think you deserve it more.”

After a moment of silence, Simon puts the mask down and reaches for your hand, taking it in one of his. Slowly, like he was waiting for you to pull away, he brings your hand to his cheek, his eyes drifting shut. His head leans softly into your palm, his hand tentatively holding it in place. He lets out a deep breath and his body relaxes, shoulders falling forward similar to how they did when you first talked to him.

The string tying you two together fixes itself a little bit more once again. Not only was Simon physically healing, albeit slowly, but he was emotionally healing bit by bit as well, only helping to strengthen the bond.

“Dunno wha’ I would do without y’here. You’ve been near me s’much recently, don’t think I can handle you leavin’ to go back home.” He mumbles, opening up his eyes again to look at you through his blond lashes.

“I didn’t really prepare to stay here for much longer than a week, Simon. I’m gonna have to leave sooner or later and I'm not sure when I’m going to be able to come back.” He pouts a little at that, looking almost like a kicked puppy at the news that you can’t stay with him forever. He’s quiet for a moment before speaking up again.

“Wha’ if you moved here? Doesn’t have t’be with me, but I can find a flat nearby or somethin’ f’you.”

“What about my job, and my home? Even then, there’s so much paperwork to do that it’ll be a while before I can move regardless-”

“I can pull a few strings, jus’… please.” Simon cuts you off with a small plea, sitting up again, wincing when the movement causes his bandages to pull on his injuries. He holds your hand in both of his now, a certain sincerity in his deep brown eyes.

“I’ll still need to get my stuff from home, y’know…” A smile replaces the frown from earlier as you watch Simon breathe out a dramatic sigh.

“It’s like y’wanna kill me.” He groans, rolling his eyes playfully. 

But the playful mood drops when he lets go of your hand, getting serious once more.

“M’not kidding about you moving here, ’ve got a flat not too far from here if you’re comfortable with tha’.” The look in his eyes silently begs you to agree and move in with him. Considering he hasn’t gotten tired of you yet, and also the fact that you’re literally his soulmate, it’s clear that he’s thought this out and wants this more than anything else.

“If moving in with you means that you’ll finally take a proper break, then yes, Simon, I would love to.” The smile on his face heals a part of you that you didn’t know needed healing.

“‘M taking a break righ’ now, aye?”

“When the doctor said get some rest, they meant at home, not still on base.” You turn in your spot, reaching behind you to the nightstand for the tea you had brought in earlier. You turn back and hand it to Simon, who takes it carefully from your grasp.

“Thank you, love.” He takes a sip before bringing the cup down, leaning forward to knock his forehead gently against yours. 

The two of you sit together like that for a little while longer later, soaking in each other's presence.

Even John had participated, just needing a bit of prodding from both sergeants to give in. He had mostly shared a few anecdotes about his escapades when he was in lower ranks, before focusing on how he had charmed his spouse. The conversation had been lighthearted and quite fluid until all eyes had landed on Simon.

Before he could even say anything fucking Johnny had laughed, teasing him about how his biggest conquest had been his own hand. He had tried to defend himself, but Kyle and even John had agreed it was hard to imagine him easily swooping a bird and convincing them to spend a night at his place.

It’s not that they didn’t think anyone would find him attractive —all of them made sure of assuring him of it, mixing in some quips about how the mask wasn’t to hide an ugly mug but instead to protect ‘the goods’ and avoid having everyone fall in love with him— but his blank stare and imposing frame, along with his quiet tendencies, had made them all agree he would spook any pretty thing before coming close to charming them.

He had scoffed then, told them they had no idea what they were talking about, and that’s when he had fallen into the trap. “Aye? prove it then Lt,” Johnny had tested immediately, and with Kyle and John also waiting for his answer, he had scoffed and agreed to it.

Which is how he had landed himself in this mess, in a crowded pub with his mates expectantly waiting for him to chat someone up. He knew he could step back any minute, that he didn’t have to prove himself to anyone —much less to a lad that shamelessly wore a mohawk—, but for god’s sake did he not want to give them the pleasure of being ‘right’.

So with a grumble he looked around the bar, eyeing the different faces, hoping to find someone that at least he could half-care about having to flirt with.

And that’s when he spotted you, in a booth, sitting alone with an empty pint while what looked  like your friend, who should have been keeping you company, was off at the bar chatting with a guy.

He finished his own pint, setting the glass down before pushing up from his chair, not looking back at his table in a useless hope that it would prevent them from whooping and hollering at his move. It hadn’t.

Ignoring their stupidness he made his way to you, walking close enough to lean his hip on the bench across from you, getting your attention. “Who’s to blame for that pint to be dry?”

Your eyes followed the path of his nod to the empty glass in front of you, a light huff of amusement leaving you as your eyes moved to meet his. “Well, how do you know it wasn’t by choice?”

An amused scoff leaves him, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips when he points to the seat across from you and you nod. “Friday night, footie game, in a pub? Love, no one would chose to be dry.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you and you nod in concession, “right, well, saw the line for a new one and decided to leave it at that.”

His head turns then, noticing the amount of people crowding around the bar, all seeming to be calling for new rounds at the same time. He hums lightly before giving a tap on the table and standing up, “mind if i fix it?”

He sees the way your brows raise, he’s not sure if in surprise or amusement, but still you nod your head and it’s all he needs to head towards the bar.

It proves to be the perfect moment for it, given that certain Scott is at the front, already telling the bartender his order. Simon easily shoulders past people, no one really daring to tell him to wait in the back like everyone else, and claps Johnny’s shoulder when he stands beside him.

The biggest grin forms on the sergeant’s face, leaning an elbow on the counter to turn to him, “bonnie thing kick ye out already, huh Lt?” and he has the audacity to laugh directly on his face. “Come to drown yer sorrows, then?”

Simon just lets out a light grunt, “jus’ for this.” Taking both pints the bartender had just settled on the counter, giving the Scott a light nod in a mirthful yet silent gratitude before making his way back to you. And maybe there is a little extra pep to his walk when he realises he’s left Johnny speechless for once in his life.

The Scott heads back to the table with his mouth still slightly open in surprise, getting groans from the other soldiers at having come back empty handed. Still, when he nods towards your booth, to the way you’re now sharing bench with Simon, to how easy it is for him to slide his arm around your shoulders and make you laugh, they all forget about their lack of drinks and just watch in amazement.

It is with a fully cocky and knowing grin that Simon turns to them when you both get up, giving them the sassiest and cheekiest little wink anyone of them had ever experienced —much less expected from someone like their lieutenant—  before he’s helping you get your coat on and herding you to the exit.

The satisfied smile is still confidently placed in his lips when you lean into his side, his arm around you to hold you close and keep you warm as you both walk down the street. “How long until they figure it out?” his smile only widens at the laugh that follows.

That’s why your favourite things are always fully stocked up, doesn’t matter what. Snacks, drinks, cologne, makeup, shampoo. Even that random type of pen you bought once and you actually really like because it always writes smoothly. 

It’s why you haven’t spent a single penny on fixing anything around the house since you started to see each other in a more serious way. Even less since you moved in together. There’s not a single leaky sink, no loose floorboard that creaks when you step on them. 

There’s also no high shelf that needs dusting or window that needs cleaning. Before you can even think of getting a stepladder (or god forbid, think of climbing the counters, how many times does he have to say how unsafe that is, sweetheart) he’s already done those. 

No need for more than one trip to get in the groceries, in fact no need to carry them. That’s why Simon’s there. He’ll gently push you to the side when you go to get the cart, keeping one hand on your lower back as he follows you through the isles. He then carries all the bags on your way back, listening to you talk about what you could do this evening. 

And if you dare offer your hand, to ask for a bag? All you’re getting is the biggest side eye before he moves the bags all to one hand, holding yours with the other. He’ll give you such a proud smirk if you say anything about it, too.

He’ll learn the recipe to any and all your favourite and comfort foods, adaptations and variations you may use included. He’ll cook them whenever, but especially the few days after getting home from deployment. It’s his way of reassuring both of you that he’s home and everything can go back to normal. 

Just like with any other chore, once he begins to do it, it becomes pretty much illegal for you to join. If you try to get a knife and start mincing some garlic, or grab a wooden spoon to swirl the pan’s contents, he’ll scoff and shake his head. Simon will tut at you, take whatever utensil you’re using out of your hand and say something along the lines of “let me do this for you, sweetheart”.

He’ll pick you up and set you on the counter closeby, asking about what you’ve done while he was away, listening to you as he makes the food. He’ll sneak little kisses and touches here and there, lean over you to get something beside you on the counter, only because he knows that you’ll lean closer and kiss his cheek or peck his lips. The only way he’ll allow for help is taste-testing, he'll bring spoons with a bit of the broth or little pieces of whatever is being cooked to your lips, only after having gently blown on them to cool them down, to get your opinion. 

And when all that’s left is letting the food simmer for a little longer, only having to keep an eye on it, he’ll set himself between your legs, pulling you closer. Your feet loosely linked behind his thighs, arms around his waist and head resting on his shoulder. He’ll use the moment to bury his nose into your hair and take a whiff of your familiar shampoo, one big hand resting on the side of your thigh as the other rubs up and down your back slowly. No need for words, no need to fill the silence.

Half of the time setting the table proves useless, instead he carries you to the couch and sits you in the space between his parted legs as you both eat while watching a show you both had started before he was sent away. 

His favourite days are those in which, after the hearty and delicious meal, you lean back against his chest and relax. Your eyes slowly get heavy with the comfort of his body against yours and your full stomach. And he can’t help the little, silly, lovesick smile that appears on his lips when, ten minutes into the episode, he looks down to comment something about the show just to find you out like a light. 

He pauses the show, you’ve waited for him to come back to finish it together, he’s not going to betray you and watch more while you sleep. Instead he’ll lean back too, get comfortable and pull you flush against his chest. His face will bury itself on the crook of your neck so all he can feel is you and he’ll join your little nap. 

It doesn't matter how many times you reassure him that he doesn’t have to prove himself useful, that you love him like he is and don’t need more. Because you already do so much for him, you take so much care and show so much love to Simon, that he feels like he’s asking too much out of you. You’re already the reason his life has meaning, he already takes enough. So just let him do this for you, sweetheart, because he owes you way more. 

✨NSFW✨

God this man babbles when he’s inside you just “ baby, please” and “so tight f’me”

He whimpers- thats it thats the point- whimpers while you ride him into the mattress or couch or back seat that one time

Speaking of riding, when you’re on top his mouth does not leave your nipples. He is ✨attached✨, secured, connected even.

PUSSY DRUNK, this man is gone , head is empty. No thoughts. Its just his cock in your cunt thats it

Accidentally creampies you.He’s thrusting lazily, half awake, when suddenly he stills and lets out the neediest fucking sound. It takes a second before you realize that he’s dropped a fat load in your pussy. Your just laying there like, is this my life now?