I once posted this small fic here but after cleaning my page I lost it, now I decided to bring it back ahah. Pls don't ask questions bout plot, its just #orn cs I think Simon covered in bandages is hot af. SO NO LOGIC AT ALL (also english is not my first language so i always apologies if there any mistakes) <3
You were curled up on the couch, phone in hand, lazily scrolling while pretending to look for something to watch. It was one of those peaceful evenings. Boring, but safe. After a long week of work, it was exactly what you needed.
Just as you were debating whether to grab a snack or let the hunger pass, a sharp knock shattered the quiet.
"What the—?" You flinched, heart racing as you shot up and hurried to the door.
You glanced at the door camera, expecting some delivery or mistake. But your breath caught.
"Ghost".
You opened the door in an instant.
He stood there towering, blood soaking through the shoulder of his tactical gear. His breathing was shallow, controlled but strained. His mask was on, but the weariness in his posture said enough.
– Simon, what happened? – you gasped, stepping forward, instinct already kicking in. You slid an arm around his waist, guiding his weight as he staggered forward toward your couch.
– Can’t talk right now, love,– he muttered. – Can you fix it?
That voice low and frayed around the edges. You nodded without thinking, already moving to grab the small medical kit you kept for emergencies. This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you bought it.
You switched on every light you could, your hands working fast. Your mind raced, but your movements were steady.
– I need to get your gear off. You can’t lift your arm, can you? – you muttered, more to yourself than him.
– Do what you need, – he rasped, settling into the couch with a sharp exhale.
You grabbed scissors and began cutting through the thick fabric of his shirt. His skin was hot, either from exertion or fever, you weren’t sure. Blood stuck to your gloves, warm and slick.
The bullet was still lodged in the meat of his shoulder. A clean shot, no exit wound.
– This is going to hurt.
He only gave a small grunt in reply, head falling back against the couch.
You sterilized your tools and got to work — forceps steady in your grip, jaw set. His body remained still, but the muscles in his jaw tightened, and you saw his fingers curl into fists. No sound. Not a cry, not a wince. Just silence, and that made it worse.
After several long, tense minutes, you got it out. The metal clinked softly into the dish beside you.
You exhaled slowly, pressing a clean cloth hard against the wound to slow the bleeding. Once it eased, you cleaned the area, packed it as best you could, and began wrapping the bandage firm and tight.
When you finally looked up, his eyes were on you.
Dark, steady. Watching every move you made.
The room was quiet now, save for your unsteady breathing. Your hands moved slower, more careful. You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline wearing off or the sudden way the air between you had shifted.
– Why are you like this?– you whispered under your breath, trying to keep your focus on the bandages.
His good hand reached out and caught your waist, gentle but firm. He tugged you forward, pulling you into his lap, his breath warm against your collarbone.
– Careful,– you murmured, hands braced on his chest. You could feel the heat of his skin beneath your fingers, the tremble of strained muscles, the barely-contained control.
– I’m okay,– he said lowly. – You don’t have to be so gentle.
That voice—it wrapped around your spine like silk and smoke.
Your fingers reached up, slipping under the edge of his mask, pulling it just high enough to reveal his lips.
– You didn’t need to get shot just to come see me, you know,– you whispered with a faint smile, trying to tease him a little.
He huffed out a low chuckle, lips brushing yours.
– Had to give you a reason to keep your hands on me. You’ve been too relaxed lately.
He didn’t move closer, didn’t finish the kiss. He just stayed there, eyes locked on yours, making you do the rest.
So you did.
You kissed him slow at first, then with the hunger that had been building in the silence. His mouth tasted like blood and breathless tension. One hand slid behind your back, drawing you closer, and the other stroked up your side with surprising tenderness.
As your lips parted, his hand drifted lower, and you gasped sharply. – Simon, – you breathed his name like it was something holy.
– You’ve always been good to me, – he whispered near your ear. – Always take care of me.
You shivered, skin prickling with heat as he kissed down your neck. Your hands explored his body, learning his shape again but the moment your fingers grazed his wound, he hissed.
– Sorry, – you pulled back immediately.
– Been through worse,– he muttered and then, with shocking ease, he lifted you up and laid you down beneath him carefully.
His lips found your skin again, trailing deliberate, reverent kisses down your chest, your stomach. Each one like a promise. He peeled your clothes off piece by piece, never rushing, never breaking eye contact for long.
– You smell like sin, dove, – he whispered, mouth brushing the inside of your thigh. – Softest fucking thing I’ve ever touched.
You were already trembling beneath him, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The tension between your legs was unbearable—aching, desperate.
– Need you,– you whispered, legs parting on instinct.
– Patience, little one, – he murmured into your skin.
His fingers ghosted over your core, teasing, testing and then you felt the wet slide of his tongue. Your hips jerked, and he chuckled, quiet and satisfied.
He tasted you slowly, hungrily, as if nothing else existed but the heat between your thighs. His tongue worked you open, dragging waves of pleasure through your body, building steadily, achingly until you could barely breathe.
– Simon, please, – you gasped, fingers clawing into the sheets.
Two thick fingers slid inside you, stretching you deliciously, his mouth never letting up. Your climax hit like a tidal wave, sharp and overwhelming, and you cried out, body shaking beneath him.
He kissed his way back up your body, lips crashing into yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. It made your stomach flip, made your whole body tighten again.
He pulled back, just slightly, eyes searching yours.
– You good, love? – he asked softly, brushing your cheek with the back of his knuckles. – We can do this all night.
– I need you inside me, – you whispered, breathless. – Now.
That smirk curved across his lips again.
– Fuckin’ hell, – he growled, scooping you up like you weighed nothing.
– Is this what it takes to get you worked up? Bleeding on my couch? – you muttered against his throat.
That rare laugh escaped him. It was low, deep, addictive. He said nothing more as he carried you to the bedroom, your body still humming from his touch.
Father's expectations were too high on you and sudden man with a skull mask will probably be a problem.
words count: 1659 MDNI!
Back with another chapterrrrrr, took me a while but ill post more regularly now!! Gonna take my page more seriously.. I am sorry if there any mistakes and hope you enjoy <333
The drive home is nothing but noise in my head. Price’s offer and the weight of it. Of course, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and that’s exactly what makes it terrifying. I pace my room twice, then give up and drop onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. And somehow, despite everything rational I should be turning over right now, what keeps surfacing is that skull balaclava. The way he looked down at me. The low, unhurried weight of his voice. I press the back of my hand to my mouth and exhale. That’s not what I’m supposed to be thinking about.
The stress is still there, sitting heavy on my chest, and the deadline is real — but my mind keeps drifting back to that mask. I turn onto my back and press my face into the pillow. I’ve always been good at shutting things out when it matters. Even through that whole disaster in my second year, some idiot who had me completely wrapped up and then acted like nothing ever happened — I still managed to just bury it and work. I don’t know what’s different this time. Something about his presence gets under my skin in a way I can’t logic away. It isn’t just that he’s intimidating — I’m genuinely a little afraid of him. And that, for some reason I’m not ready to examine too closely, makes me want to be near him more.
My hands move across my own body as I shift onto my back. “Am I really convincing myself this is all about work and opportunity.” My shirt ends up on the floor. “Sure. A fresh start, leaving my father behind.” Jeans follow. “Perfectly rational. Not at all obsessing over a stranger.” My finger finds my clit and I exhale slowly, eyes falling shut. His hands are so large — I keep thinking about that, how they’d feel on me. My other hand moves to my chest, and I let the thought settle instead of pushing it away. My back arches as the warmth spreads through me. “I am going crazy.” Two fingers slide inside and my mind fills in the rest — those broad shoulders, the low pull of his voice saying my name. When it finally hits I sit up sharply, chest heaving.
– Fuck.
By the time morning comes I already have my answer. I avoid Father as much as possible, something in me can’t face him right now. It’s hard to explain exactly. I just know he doesn’t need to be part of this decision, and talking to him before I’ve settled it myself isn’t something I’m ready to do.
I get to the base early and head straight for the right wing. There are young soldiers around — some still half-asleep, some already moving out towards the field. I’ve always avoided this part of the base; it puts me on edge in a way I can’t shake. But there’s no other route to where Price is. I pick up my pace and keep my eyes forward, ignoring the stares drifting my way, until someone steps directly into my path. Slightly taller than me, probably my age. My eyebrows go up, annoyance written plainly across my face.
— Are you lost? — He’s enjoying this, smile spreading the moment he sees me slow down.
— No, I’m not, — I step to the right to get past him and he mirrors me, blocking the way again. A long breath escapes me and I meet his eyes directly.
— Don’t see company like this around here very often, — he says, and behind him a couple of the others have clocked what’s happening. One of them laughs. My jaw tightens.
— I need to see Captain Price, — the irritation in my voice is unmistakable as I try to step around him again.
His hand closes around my arm and that’s when the anger floods in clean and cold. I turn to face him. The others nearby are watching now, openly entertained, and the humiliation of it sits under the anger like an ember. My free hand is already curling when I hear the voice behind me.
— What is this supposed to mean? — Goosebumps run the length of my arms as I feel the weight of his presence just behind me.
I turn my head slowly. Simon has his hand on my shoulder.
— Sorry, Sir, — the guy’s confidence collapses into something closer to panic and he releases my arm immediately.
He falls back to join the others and they move quickly towards the exit.
I roll my eyes and turn to face Simon, still feeling his hand on my shoulder.
— Thanks, — the annoyance is still in my voice. — Why most of them just need to be fucking assholes — mostly to myself, but he gives my shoulder a light pat.
— You okay? — he asks, and lets go of my shoulder.
— Yeah, yeah, — I start walking again. — I was heading to see Price and that idiot decided to make it difficult.
He nods and falls into step beside me. My pulse picks up and I run a hand through my hair as we stop in front of Price’s office door.
— You didn’t have to walk me here, I’m pretty sure you scared everyone off already, — I say with a short laugh, glancing up at him.
He looks back at me, his gaze beneath the mask completely unreadable.
— I didn’t. Need to speak to Price as well, — and now a weight drops squarely onto my chest. Why did I say anything at all.
— Oh, — that’s all I manage as the embarrassment washes over me.
I knock and push the door open, doing my best to ignore the presence behind me.
Price is behind his desk, a large kit bag sitting beside it.
— Ah, Y/N, hopefully good news? — He claps his hands together with a grin. His eyes move to Simon, then back to me. Only now do I take in the fact that they’re both in full kit.
I clear my throat and step closer to the desk.
— Turning this down would be a stupid decision on my part.
Price chuckles and nods, leaning forward against the desk.
— Then it’s a yes, I suppose, — he opens the desk drawer and pulls out the same documents. — Glad to hear it, — he steps closer and hands them to me. Simon stands back, watching everything in silence as Price gives him a brief nod.
I glance down at the documents — three separate files.
— All yours, — Price catches my eyes as I nod. — You’ll have time to go through everything later. I’ll introduce you to Laswell tomorrow and we’ll get you properly brought on board.
I press the files to my chest as Simon steps closer towards the two of us.
— Adding to the team? — The dry note in his voice is unmistakable.
— Yeah. Ghost, meet Y/N, — Price smiles at me and my eyebrows lift slightly. “Ghost. That suits him.”
Ghost looks back at me for a moment, then turns to Price. There’s no reading what’s going on behind those eyes.
— We leave in 40, — he says simply, and walks out of the office, giving me a brief nod on his way past.
Price grabs his kit bag from beside the desk and claps a hand on my back to follow him.
— Quick introductions while everyone’s still here.
Keeping pace with him, my mind is still trying to catch up to everything that just happened. We reach a part of the building I’ve never been before — a staircase leading up to the rooftop. My hands are trembling slightly and I press the files tighter against my chest, trying to settle myself. Is the weight of what I’ve actually agreed to only landing now? As we step out onto the roof I see a small group already there. Price greets them and my eyes find Kyle immediately.
— Kyle! — I close the distance and pull him into a hug. — Haven’t seen you in ages, — I pull back and look at him, the smile on my face coming without any effort. He returns it immediately.
— Price mentioned you’d started, I kept meaning to find a moment to congratulate you, — he says with a chuckle, squeezing my arm before letting go.
— No surprise you already made it here. Always the lucky one, — I say, glancing down at the files in my hands with a small shake of my head.
— You’re one to talk, — he grins, nodding at the files pressed to my chest. — Straight into the deep end, then?
Price puts his hands on our shoulders before Kyle can answer.
— Gaz, — he says, with a nod towards Kyle, — doesn’t need an introduction, — there’s a teasing note in his voice.
I turn to the left as a guy with a small mohawk stares at me with a smile.
— Soap, — Price turns me slightly so I’m facing him properly. I smile and offer my hand, which he takes with a firm shake and a grin wide enough to be slightly ridiculous.
— Hiya, lad, — he says, still shaking my hand a beat too long.
The sound of a helicopter cuts through everything, ending my brief introduction to the full team.
— Well, that’s everyone, — Price raises his voice over the noise. — That’s it for now, Y/N. Tomorrow will be a full day. For now you’re free, — he glances at the team and waves them forward.
I step back towards the door, pushing my hair out of my face against the wind. I watch them move — Kyle raises a hand in a wave as they go. As they board the helicopter my eyes find Ghost. My heart beats a little faster. He looks back too.
— Pretty one, aye? — Soap nudges Ghost’s forearm as the helicopter lifts. Ghost doesn’t answer. He watches the door I disappeared through until there’s nothing left to watch, which makes Soap laugh to himself.
— Yeah, — quiet enough that it gets swallowed by the rotors. Soap doesn’t hear a word of it.
Father's expectations were too high on you and sudden man with a skull mask will probably be a problem.
words count: 2289
Thank you everyone who read and actually like it, really means a lot. <3 Again sorry for any mistakes, trying to make something here ahah. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
I clearly overestimated myself thinking that finishing work over the weekend and feeling completely fine on Monday was ever a possibility. Because now I am face-down on my desk during lunch break, trying to pull myself together after my fifth cup of coffee.
– You okay there?
Liz, the ginger-haired one, asks without looking up, chewing absently on the end of her pen.
– Nah, feel like shit, – I say, turning my head on the table to face her.
– Had fun over the weekend? – She chuckles, dropping her head onto her arms so we’re at the same level, watching me with that particular look that says she already knows the answer.
– I wish, – I roll my eyes and turn my face back towards the desk.
– Go take a walk, – she says, nudging my arm, – I’ll help you finish the report later, don’t stress about it.
A quiet laugh escapes me and I smile at her. Over the past month, Liz and Ivy had warmed up to me — small exchanges, little details about each other’s lives slowly finding their way into the gaps between work. We weren’t close by any stretch, but the easy atmosphere made everything more bearable.
As I stand and head out of the office, I figure a walk might clear my head a little. My thoughts drift straight to the archive, to what I might find there. Simon — who he is, where he came from, how old he even is. Price wouldn’t bring someone in who wasn’t exceptional, that much I know. It’s his build and that mask that keeps unsettling me. Then again, that kind of work calls for someone who doesn’t stand out — or maybe that’s entirely wrong and I’m projecting. Does he ever take it off? There’s too much going around in my head. All of it gets cut short when a plastic bottle bounces off the side of my head.
– Huh?
I turn around and catch a couple of soldiers nearby, too busy shoving each other and joking around to notice they’ve hit anyone, already spilling out towards the field. They shout something as they go and I just roll my eyes. Right — this is why I resented everything connected to my father’s world. Not every person in it, but most of the men I’d witnessed around him over the years were arrogant, loud and thoughtless. I hated the army, which is ironic enough now. The only things it ever made me feel were contempt and fear — fear of people like my father. Seeing some of his colleagues in our house always left me with a low, creeping disgust. Price was the exception. He carried himself with actual respect and restraint — an intelligence that felt genuinely rare in that company.
I watch the field for a moment longer, then turn and head back inside to get some work done. Tonight I’ll find what I need — which means decent sleep isn’t coming any time soon.
At the end of the day I say my goodbyes to Ivy first and then to Liz, grab the keys, and make my way towards the archive rooms. They’re in the right wing of the base, a good ten minutes of walking. When I finally get there, I stand in front of the door for a second, keys tapping against my palm, then slowly push it open and hit the light. The room is packed with files and I have no idea where to start.
My fingers run along the shelves, eyes scanning for anything that catches. An hour passes and I’m still working through the same section.
– Searching for something?
I jump, nearly dropping the whole shelf on myself.
– Why does everyone want to startle me, I swear to God, – I mutter under my breath as I turn towards the door.
Price stands there, leaning on the door frame with his eyebrows raised.
– Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I…
– Why are you here? – His voice is measured, with a faint note of surprise but no trace of anger.
– Dad asked me to find something for him, – I say, keeping my voice steady as I turn back to the shelves. Trying my best to sound like it’s nothing.
– Really?
– He came back on Saturday and had some work for me.
He nods and slowly walks up to me.
– Still his little errand runner, then.
My eyes find his and I chuckle nervously.
– You came to search for something too?
– I was passing by and saw someone here so I checked. Definitely didn’t think I would see you.
I nod and turn back to the shelves, but my mind is already running ahead. “Would it be a mistake to ask him directly? He probably won’t give anything up — and what would he think? How many times do I have to come back here before I find what I need?”
– Can I ask about TF 141? – The words are out before I can think better of it.
He looks at me directly and clears his throat.
– You even know about that? So that's what you actually looking for.
I just nod, waiting for an answer.
– Norman mentioned your habit of picking up more than you’re supposed to at his gatherings. I assumed most of what you’d heard would stay well above your clearance level.
– It is, I never…
– Don’t worry about it, kid, – he says, with a short laugh. – What exactly do you want to know?
– Who’s on it?
– Can’t tell you that.
– I know Kyle is there, you said it yourself. That he works with you.
– We worked together long before TF141 existed. That doesn’t confirm anything, – he says, with a slight smile.
A deep sigh escapes me and I look at him again.
– Okay, who is Simon?
His expression shifts into something I didn’t expect. Not confusion exactly — more like genuine surprise, the kind that doesn’t happen often on a face like his.
– See, I already know two people from your team.
Price still stays silent as he observes me and starts to walk out of the room.
– Come with me.
My eyes widen a little and I follow quickly. The corridor is mostly empty at this hour, our footsteps the only sound. I keep pace with him, my mind turning over what he could possibly want to show me. My hands are already clammy. I try to focus on the fact that he might be about to give me exactly what I came for. He wouldn’t have me hauled for poking around somewhere I shouldn’t be. I’ll know soon enough either way.
We reach his office and he settles behind his desk, gesturing across it for me to sit.
– Alright, how did you come to know who Simon is?
I sit down, smile nervously, and wipe my palms on my jeans.
– I think you’ve got the wrong idea, – I pause, watching his face. – I didn’t dig up information on him. I ran into him twice. First was the day I saw you, before I started here. Second time I stayed late and stepped out for a smoke. We spoke for a few minutes. I worked out he was with you from the day I’d seen you together, and I got his first name. That’s all of it.
He listens to every word and then chuckles lightly.
– And after that you decided to find TF141 files?
– I was curious. I’ve gone through enough documents at this base to know most people by name — I’d never come across his.
– Something Norman forced you to do?
– I’ve known a lot of people who came through my father’s house. Before I started here I thought I had a reasonable picture of who I’d be dealing with.
– Good memory you have there.
– The only thing I was ever actually good at. Finding information and holding onto it.
He taps his fingers on the desk and nods slowly.
– Alright, y/n. I need an intelligence support liaison attached to someone I work closely with — someone who can handle research, cross-reference field intelligence, and manage the information flow on the ground side. She’s been asking for a woman in that role for a while. I’ve never found the right fit, – he leans forward against the desk with a quiet grunt and holds my gaze. – If you’re this interested in TF141, maybe you can be useful to me instead.
My leg shakes as I listen to him.
– That head of yours is wasted on routine reports. Do this first, prove yourself, and I’ll move you into communications monitoring and data analysis — full access to everything you’ve been looking for. You’d actually be part of it. So. How does that sound?
I scratch the back of my neck and think for a second.
– I’m not sure I’m the right person for that. It feels like this is only on the table because of my father.
– Not entirely, no, – he pauses, and that lands harder than I expected. – But here’s the thing – you were raised inside this world. Norman spent years trying to make you into a specialist, knowing his daughter was never going to be a soldier. What I’m offering is exactly what you’ve always done. The difference is it would be under my command instead of your father’s.
He gives me a small smile as he takes out the documents under his desk. Gently putting them in front of me.
– Here, – he taps on them, – You wouldn’t be able to find any of these in that archive room. I keep the information of my team near me.
My hand reaches out toward the files but stops short of opening them. I run my eyes over the packs of documents, then glance back at him.
– I’m an impatient man, y/n. I don’t think you have a better option, and that skill of yours deserves more than being buried in routine paperwork. You’d still have reports — but they’d mean something.
I sit there and say nothing, turning it all over. He isn’t wrong. There’s something more serious I could commit to here, something that might finally pull me out from under my father’s oversight. If I go under Price, my father loses his grip. I’d be answering to someone else entirely. And yet — saying yes to Price means a completely different level of pressure, and I have no real idea if I’m ready for that.
– It’s a lot to process right now.
– I understand, but I can’t hold the position open long, – he stands and gathers the documents back carefully, unhurried. – Come back tomorrow with your answer. We have things moving and I’ll be away shortly.
I silently stand up and nod.
– Okay, thank you, – I smile at him and go towards the door.
– Hoping for a positive answer.
I pull the door shut behind me and stand in the corridor for a moment. Did any of that just happen, or is the sleep deprivation finally catching up with me. I start walking and my hands are trembling again, which makes no sense — or maybe it makes every sense. “Is it the responsibility that comes with saying yes? The fear of not being good enough when it actually matters? Or is it simpler than that — maybe I just don’t want to leave the one place where my father’s expectations can’t follow me, even if that place is a dead end.” Everything is tangled up and I can’t pull it apart.
I get closer to my car and bump into someone.
– I’m sorry, – I look up and my throat closes. – Simon? The thought of that dream lands in my head like a slap and suddenly my hands are shaking for an entirely different reason.
“How am I supposed to look him in the eyes?”
He stands still and looks down at me, tossing the end of his cigarette into the bin nearby. His mask is different tonight — a skull this time, fractured lines across it, more unsettling up close. He adjusts it slightly, pulling it flush against his face.
– Aren’t you supposed to be home already? – he says, not dropping eye contact.
– Did you let me walk into you just now? – I ask, voice coming out less steady than I’d like.
– What made you think that? – There’s something in his voice that is clearly enjoying this — unhurried, a little too composed for someone who definitely saw me coming. He absolutely did it on purpose and he’s not even pretending otherwise. I open my mouth to push back and then catch him glancing down, just briefly, at my hands. The amusement doesn’t disappear entirely, but something in his expression settles. Goes quieter.
I let it go and exhale.
– Had something to keep me late, – I say, moving towards my car.
My head isn’t in the right place for this. It’s hard enough to hold a conversation when I’m running on nothing — doing it in front of him, carrying that dream in the back of my mind, is something else. I need to get out of here.
– Goodnight, – I say quickly, dropping into the seat and pulling the door shut. I glance back at him through the window. He gives a single nod — no trace of the amusement from a moment ago — and turns back towards the base.
My forehead drops onto the wheel. Of all the nights. I stay there until my heartbeat settles, then lift my head and stare out at the empty space where he was.
Father's expectations were too high on you and sudden man with a skull mask will probably be a problem.
words count: 2140
MDNI! age gap, smut
HELLO!!1 Back with another chapter and AGAIN SORRY IF THERE ANY MISTAKES, I AM REALLY TRYING HERE
Hope people will enjoy reading it ; - ;
A week of peaceful sleep without studies or work passes far too quickly. I manage to accept my fate, though Father won’t stop going on about how I need to perform well and not disappoint anyone. As usual, I just nod and say nothing that might put him in a bad mood.
The day comes and I am standing in front of the base again, arms full of folders and things to settle at my desk. It isn’t a great feeling; my hands are unsteady, but there’s no going back now. As I step inside, three people greet me and guide me to my place. I am seated with two other women, both a little older than me.
– Work is straightforward. I hope you’re not one of those who needs an explanation five times, – one of them says with a dry chuckle as I sit down, not even glancing up from her screen. She has bright red hair and a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes — something I’ll need to get used to.
I give a small smile in return, and the other one — the friendlier-looking of the two — drops a stack of papers on my desk without a word.
– Go through these. We need the report done by this evening — questions? – She drums her fairly long nails against the edge of the desk, watching me with mild impatience.
– Y-yeah, – I say, shaking my head slightly, – No problem.
As I start working through the documents, I realise it isn’t as frightening as I’d imagined. The women whose names I still need to learn aren’t bad, not really. They don’t seem to care much about my presence one way or the other — they don’t dislike me, they’re simply not taking me too seriously yet. A lot of that probably comes down to Father. Everyone knows who I am, so as long as I do what I’m told, no one will say anything.
A week passes, then two, then a month, and I settle in well enough. The only real issue is that some reports are too long, or there are too many of them at once, and I end up staying extra hours. But I am in no position to throw my hands up and walk out, so a twitching left eye isn’t exactly a crisis.
It is already past 9 p.m. when I step outside for a smoke. Standing there, I catch myself thinking about how I haven’t seen Father in over a month. He mentioned something important before he left, but never gave me any details. I sigh and look out across the base; it isn’t the first time he has disappeared like this. Still, it is rare lately for him to be called away somewhere, and for this long. I shake the thought off and lift the cigarette to my lips — and then I feel someone nearby. I turn, and the tall figure from the day I met Price is walking up. My heart almost leaves my chest as I start coughing.
– Jesus fucking Christ, – it comes out as a strangled whisper between coughs.
He simply looks at me. Black hoodie, black trousers, and that skull balaclava that makes me deeply uneasy just to look at. He is very tall and broad-shouldered; I hadn’t really taken him in properly that first day, but up close he seems even bigger than I remembered. He lifts the balaclava slightly to light his cigarette, and I catch a glimpse — a pretty sharp jaw, a faint scar at the corner of his lip, a few days of scruffy blond stubble. He is more than a little intimidating.
– Didn’t mean to startle you, – he says, taking a slow drag, – Got sent outside to smoke and the back door was locked. His voice is low and unhurried, and it sends a shiver straight down my spine.
I keep staring, though it is hard not to. He seems used to it — he doesn’t comment on it, doesn’t shift uncomfortably, doesn’t give me a strange look back.
– Oh, – the best I can manage as I force my gaze back to the empty field ahead, – I saw you about a month ago. You working with Price?
His eyes come back to me as he nods. That’s enough. I know who Price is and the kind of work he does. Task Force 141 wasn’t something I was completely unfamiliar with — I didn’t have full access to classified files, but the name had come up in conversations with Father. I did what I always do: absorbed every word I could and filed it away. I only knew that Kyle had been attached to Price’s unit at some point; I had no idea who else was on the team. Until now.
– Pretty young to be around here, – he says, breaking the silence without any particular hurry, – You an intern? My eyes widen slightly.
– Ah, yeah. It’s all down to my father, really — I probably wouldn’t be here without him, – I pause. He is still watching me. “God, this man never breaks eye contact.” - Mostly paperwork for now, but I can’t complain. His connections got me straight in.
He nods and turns his gaze back out to the field. A beat of silence passes.
– How do you know Price?
– Father.
– Mm, – he pauses, – Age?
Something about this exchange is starting to feel strange.
– You a fan of small talk? – Something about that question catches on me. What if he’s sizing me up, deciding I’m not worth taking seriously? Not that it should matter.
– Just curious, – he shrugs and takes another drag, – So Captain Norman is your dad.
I just stay silent on that comment.
– Didn’t know he had a daughter.
A small chuckle escapes me and I stub out my cigarette against the bin.
– Why the mask?
The question is out before I can stop it.
– Got my reasons, – he says, and something in his accent thickens just slightly.
I go quiet, sensing I have wandered somewhere I shouldn’t. I turn and reach for the door, glancing back at him over my shoulder.
– I’ll go now, see you around...
– Simon, – he says, cutting me off before I can finish, his eyes finding mine.
– Simon, – I repeat and nod, – Nice to meet you, I guess…
A low chuckle reaches me, quiet enough that I almost miss it, and it does something embarrassing to my heart rate.
– Y/N, – I say quietly but enough for him to hear.
He just nods and I go back inside.
As I walk back towards my desk, my heart is still pounding. Am I terrified? Probably. It’s not like I make a habit of talking to men built like armoured vehicles while wearing skull balaclavas. I sit down and replay the conversation in my head. The thought of his voice sends another shiver through me.
– Fucking hell, – I let my forehead drop to the desk.
– Simon, Simon, – I murmur to myself, and my eyes snap to the stacks of documents on the shelf nearby.
My curiosity has already gotten the better of me. I want every scrap of information that exists on TF 141. I pull through stack after stack of physical files and find nothing I don’t already know. I rush back to my computer — glancing over my shoulder like someone is about to catch me — and open the restricted files I have partial access to, courtesy of Father. Personnel records, operational summaries, cross-referenced unit designations. My eyes move fast, scanning every line for something familiar.
Just as I am about to give up entirely, something catches my eye. I lean closer, spine straightening.
Name after name, file after file — SAS selection records, transfer requests, unit assignments across different ranks and positions — but nothing that links directly to TF 141. I sigh and check the time. I need to sleep before my brain gives out entirely, and two hours of searching for one soldier is more than enough for tonight. The whole ride home I turn over where else I could look, who I could ask without raising questions. By the time I drop onto my bed with a groan, I force my eyes shut and try to think about anything other than Simon — whose voice is still, annoyingly, ringing in my head.
…
Everything is hazy. My head isn’t working properly, thoughts dissolving the moment they form. My stomach twists with a sensation that keeps building, keeps tipping closer to unbearable. A hard thrust drives the breath out of me and pulls a moan I can’t suppress. The air in the room is thick and warm, filled with nothing but unsteady breathing — his and mine. My hands find the edge of the table in front of me and hold on. I can barely keep myself upright. Then a large hand slides to my throat, fingers wrapping around it with a firm, deliberate pressure — not harsh, just enough to make everything feel sharper, more present, more real. A small, helpless sound escapes me and my fingers close over his instinctively. The way that pressure settles over me feels far too good to be rational.
– Easy, love, – God. His voice at my ear, low and rough, and entirely too close, sends another wave of goosebumps down every inch of my skin.
My head falls to the side. My body feels like it is no longer entirely mine.
– Simon
– Yeah, just like that, – he murmurs, and then his teeth find my shoulder, and the sound that comes out of me is something I would be mortified to hear in daylight.
I wake up and immediately sit up.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.” I stare around the room in a panic, like someone is standing right there watching. My breathing is ragged, my heart is going absolutely insane, and my hand flies to my neck without thinking. “God, you are so pathetic.” I can’t stop the self-scolding because I cannot believe I just had a dream about a man I spoke to for five minutes outside a building. Maybe I had neglected my personal life since my second-year break-up, but I hadn’t realised I’d gotten quite this desperate.
– Y/N! – My heart lurches as my mother’s voice cuts through from downstairs, – Your father is back. Come and greet him.
Her voice fades as she moves away. I do my best to slow my breathing down. I get up, go to the bathroom, and throw cold water over my face.
“Get your shit together”.
Once I look something close to presentable, I head downstairs to the main living room. My parents are in conversation when I walk in, and neither of them acknowledges me for a couple of minutes.
– There you are. How was your work while I was away? – Father finally turns to look at me, skipping any kind of greeting — not that he ever gave one. Straight to the point, as always.
– It’s okay, got used to it pretty fast, – I say with a forced smile.
– Good to hear, – he nods and walks straight to his cabinet.
– Dad, – I say, following him, which earns a surprised look from my mother before she decides to mind her own business, – Can I ask you something?
– Be quick about it and speak up, – he scoffs, pushing open the cabinet door.
I hesitate for a moment, then take a breath.
– Do you have any information on Task Force 141?
His usual expression — somewhere between mild irritation and mild disinterest — shifts into something more guarded.
– Why do you need that? And who told you about it?
– Heard from your talk with Price.
– When?
– Why does it matter?
A long sigh comes out of him.
– You love to stick your nose into things you are not supposed to.
– Yeah, you taught me well, – I say quietly, gaze dropping to the side.
– Fair enough, – he says with an annoyed tone as he goes inside the cabinet, – Why do you need it?
– I ran into Price not long ago and it got me thinking. I might see an opportunity there.
He stares at me for a long moment, then lets out a short, sardonic laugh. He reaches across his desk and picks up a set of keys.
– Go through the archives and secured documents at the base. You want information — find it yourself, – he tosses the keys towards me. I catch them, and I can’t quite stop the small, satisfied grin.
– Thanks, – I nod and am turning to leave when he speaks again.
– Don’t get distracted, Y/N, I need you fully committed to your current work.
I leave and pull the door shut behind me. “Making my life harder again.” I slip the keys into my pocket and head back upstairs to work through the documents left over for Monday. “Finishing them over the weekend just means more time to find what I need.”
Father's expectations were too high on you and sudden man with a skull mask will probably be a problem.
words count: 1473 (eventual smut) so for now no big warnings.
English is not my first language so I am sorry if something was confusing! This fanfic is something that've been in my mind for a very long time, so expect it to be pretty long lmaoooo
My childhood was normal, or so you would say. Nothing worth highlighting, and that’s why I don’t really have memories from it. My mother was present physically but not much emotionally. It wasn’t really a complaint — she just didn’t know how to be any other way. I was a pretty emotional child, and you learned quickly to hold everything inside so you wouldn’t put yourself in uncomfortable positions in front of your parents. Father worked all day and was absent most of the time. He worked in the military; I didn’t ask questions. I was scared of him — not because he was abusive or a bad parent, it was just something that couldn’t be explained. I simply felt it was better to leave him alone. Growing up, I didn’t try to understand myself; I just learned how to be useful and not to bother people. Quiet and shy was how my parents described me, but it was something I learned by watching their reactions to certain things. I knew a lot of people went through that and never made a big deal out of it. We looked presentable from the outside and like complete strangers inside the house, but my father liked it that way.
After graduating high school, I didn’t know what to do. A common problem among teenagers, so I just listened to my parents. Father wanted a son he could teach everything and eventually send off to serve in the military — well, that wasn’t an option for me, or at least I thought so. I hated everything connected to his work. Whatever emotional capacity my mother and father lacked had fallen entirely onto me, and I’d somehow doubled it. My eyes were always watery, even over small or “stupid” things, as my father would say. But without a proper dream, skill, or goal, I ended up working alongside him. Why he thought I was capable of enduring all the physical training, sharpening critical thinking, or handling the emotional demands of military intelligence work — I didn’t know. And yet there I was, going through documents I’d trained myself not to dwell on, completing exactly what I was told. Searching for information he needed, essentially serving as his personal archive. I turned out to be good at absorbing it all — pulling out the necessary details about people, locations, connections. Did I like it? I didn’t know. I started to not hate it, at least. It felt good to be useful for once, and maybe I thought it made my parents somewhat proud.
And that was how I ended up applying for International Relations and Intelligence. Father had wanted to make me more technical, but I clearly struggled with anything math-related. I wasn’t sure I was good enough for this major, to be honest. I wasn’t sure of anything, but that couldn’t be helped — uncertainty had settled into every aspect of my life. My studies were a grind: mental breakdowns, university drama, and constant pressure from Father. The people around me weren’t keen on forming real friendships, so even though I had some “friends” to spend time with, it stayed within the walls of the university. There were flings that didn’t end well, more tears over love that wasn’t what I’d imagined, or feelings that simply weren’t mutual. The typical student life, with everything hitting at once. Surprisingly, graduation came quickly — I couldn’t cope with how fast the time had passed. I still had the feeling of not being capable of anything, that I hadn’t changed or matured the way I thought I would. But it didn’t matter, because now I was standing in front of my father’s desk, waiting while he worked through the process of finding me a placement. He wanted to show the world what he had invested in me and what I could prove. My heart was racing and my hands trembling slightly as he returned with a smile.
– You will be placed in the analyst department, – he says, with a rare note of excitement in his voice. It’s an unusual sight, and it only makes me more nervous — now I have to live up to his expectations, and if studying had been hard, I have no idea what work will be like.
– Are you sure I can already start?
– You’re an intern, so your work is easy, – he says, his tone shifting to something more serious, – Even a complete stranger off the street could handle it.
I listen in silence and give a small nod; he is getting irritated and I don’t want to provoke him.
– You start next week. If you show good results, I’ll work on putting you in a better position, – he leans back, not looking at me, – Dismissed.
– Yes, Sir, – I sigh, and walk out of his office.
“Well, my life is officially hell now, probably.” My train of thought breaks as I glance at some soldiers running drills across the base. When I think back to the basic training my father put me through, I physically cringe. Maybe I wasn’t a complete disappointment, but the look on his face always said otherwise. He’s a well-respected captain around here. He used to bring me along for odd jobs on the base, often enough that a few people recognize my face. So at least the place isn’t unfamiliar — I don’t have to get used to a foreign environment on top of everything else. I look up at the building as I head out and try to make peace with the reality of working here soon.
– Y/n! – I hear a familiar voice calling out. I look to my right and a smile appears on my face, uninvited.
Captain John Price is a good friend of my father’s. They had worked together for years, and I hadn’t seen him often — but enough to place him clearly in my childhood memories.
– Hi, – I say shyly, giving him a small hug.
– Look at you! Feels like just yesterday you were a small girl with teary eyes, – he says teasingly, with a warm smile.
I nod in embarrassment.
– Yeah… Now I’m starting to work here, – I say, lowering my voice at the end.
– You graduated already? – his hands rise, – Time flies, congratulations!
– Thank you.
– You are not very excited, are you? – he dips his head to catch my eyes.
– Just nervous. I still don’t think I’m the right fit for all my father’s plans, – I glance back at Price, trying to sound at least a little more positive.
– I’m sure you’ll be fine, kid, – he pats my shoulder.
– Are you here to see my dad? I thought you were in the US for a while. When did you get back?
– Not that long ago. I have some things to sort out here. I’ll stop in to say hello, but he’s not the reason I’m back.
I nod, hesitating to ask anything more.
– How’s Kyle?
Price smiles and looks at the soldiers running drills nearby.
– He’s good — been working with me, – he pauses and looks back at me, – Still think your father likes him more than you?
I chuckle at that and shake my head. He did always suggest that Kyle would make a better replacement for his own daughter, though he tried to frame it as a joke. It never quite landed — I’d cry myself to sleep afterward. I’ll admit I never had any hard feelings toward Kyle himself. He was always very sweet and kind to me, so I couldn’t bring myself to be angry at him. We trained together a handful of times before I’d had enough humiliation and begged my father to stop putting me through it. That ended with him not speaking to me for a month, but at least I wasn’t pushing my body past its limits anymore.
– That’s not just my opinion — it’s a fact, – I say with a straight face, as Price laughs, which quickly dissolves into a cough.
– I’ll see you around, kid. Do good, maybe I’ll steal you from your dad to work with me, – he pats my shoulder a little harder this time.
I smile and hug him goodbye.
“Work with John Price? Yeah, no chance.” My head starts to pound as I try not to think too hard about what’s ahead. I’m rounding the corner of the building when I nearly walk straight into someone. My heart lurches, but the other person reacts impossibly fast — like he’d seen it coming. I look up to apologize and the words die in my throat. A large, imposing figure in a skull balaclava. He sidesteps me without breaking stride, and a low, quiet “sorry” comes from him as he disappears through the building entrance. I stand there for a second, staring at the door he just walked through. I take a slow breath and turn away. “God, give me strength.”
