something I wrote when I was feeling overwhelmed.
Simon Riley x pregnant!reader
still not 100% happy with it but I thought I'd at least give it a chance instead of letting it rot in my drafts
TW: angst argument gender neutral reader leaning more towards fem, guns, pregnancy, talks of anxiety and depression, das it I think if I missed something lmk
Simon had lost his family before because of his actions. After finding a new one in the 141, and marrying the love of his life, he vowed to protect the people he loved. He never wanted someone to suffer because of his mistakes ever again.
Yet here he was, sitting in his shared living room alone.
You two had gotten into an argument. It wasn’t your first one, and it probably won’t be your last, but so far it was your worst one. You had finally decided to hang up some prints you’ve been saving for your living room. But when Simon walked in on you climbing the tall step ladder with five large frames tucked under your arm, he rushed to you, plucked you off the ladder and sat you on the couch, ignoring your loud protests and muttering about how you shouldn’t be doing things like that and how he could’ve done it for you.
That’s when you snapped at him. You were mad at him for not letting you do things for yourself, and he was mad at you for not resting after dealing with dizziness and nausea you were suffering from for weeks now. Shouts were thrown back and forth until Simon left the house, and drove off.
He went for what felt like a short drive, but before he knew it, almost an hour had gone by, but thankfully he felt level headed enough to talk to you properly. But when he returned to find you gone, any and all clarity was replaced with panic, full blown, inconsolable panic.
After repeatedly calling your name and turning the house upside down looking for you, he called your cell. It went straight to voice mail. He tried again four more times with the same result. He texted you and got a DND message.
He knew one day his temper would get the better of him, and here he was sitting in your shared house, by himself. He couldn’t bear knowing he had driven away the person closest to him.
He sat in the living room with his head in hands, fighting back tears. He began to think of a million horrible scenarios of what could’ve happened to you. Maybe you were properly fed up with him and packed a bag, leaving him to wallow in his self hatred. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be strong enough to get a hold of his emotions. He was supposed to be the solid support you need to feel safe. He was supposed to love you, bring you peace, not be the reason you feel unsafe in your own home.
And in a single afternoon he ruined it.
Simon felt the tears collecting on his hands now. If only he knew where you were. He would ask, beg, plead for you to forgive him, to take him back. He could be better, he would be better, just give him one more chance. You don’t deserve him, but he can prove he can be at least half the husband; and father; you deserve.
But maybe you didn’t leave him. What if something happened to you?
There are people who would be more than happy to have either one of your heads mounted on a spike. For all Simon knows you could be dead, or worse. Kidnapped, drugged, tortured, who knows? All because he ran away from a fight for once in his life?
He would never forgive himself if you got hurt because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if you died because of him.
Simon called upon every coping skill he knows to calm himself down and think.
There was no sign of a struggle, aside from the mess he made trying to find you. The weapons you guys hid throughout the house for emergencies were untouched. Your car was gone, so most likely you had gone for a drive just like he had. All of your belongings and clothes were where you left them, so you most likely haven’t packed and left his sorry ass.
And you weren’t helpless, either. Far from it, you were a sergeant, so Simon trusted you to take care of yourself. But that doesn’t stop him from freaking out.
At best, you were pissed at him and you’ll come back when you’re ready. So Simon will tolerate the most agonizingly stress filled stake out he ever had. In the meantime, he cleaned the mess he made of the house in a frenzy. He also took care of the few dishes left in the sink, scrubbed the bathtub, vacuumed your studio and fixed a leak in the sink he’s been meaning to for weeks.
Was this self-inflicted punishment for getting on your nerves? Perhaps, but it also kept his hands and mind busy and calm.
While he was in the middle of cleaning the fridge, his phone rang. He tapped answer so fast he damn near broke the thing.
“Price? … I’m on my way.”
Simon grabbed his jacket and keys and headed out the door.
Gun shots roar against the empty walls of the shooting range in quick succession with no hesitation, only a brief pause to reload, bullets piling underneath the torn target.
You stand at the end of the gun range, arm outstretched holding the pistol, muscles tense and finger going ham on the trigger. Your eyes were focused and intense, eyebrows pinched and lips turned in a frown.
You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reloaded, hell, you’ve lost track of how long you’ve even been here. You just intended to stay until you blew off enough steam to go back home.
“Y/N!” you hear someone shout over the shots. You flinch, missing the target. You quickly turn to see Price staring at you in concern, and a bit of shock. “I’ve called your name three times, soldier.”
You sigh heavily, but it’s more of a groan. “Sorry, I was… lost in thought.”
You began taking off your gear. “I’ll clean up and be out of your hair.”
“No need, Y/N. Was just curious who was holed up in here on a breezy Sunday afternoon firing with a righteous fury.”
“…needed to… let out some steam.”
Price continues looking at you, eyes expecting but patient. He may be your boss, but he’s also your friend, and right now he can tell you really need a friend.
“Everything is … changing.” You place your hand on your belly where you and Simon’s first child is growing. You haven’t even begun to show yet, but the change in hormones have already made itself known.
John nods, eyes looking expectantly, yet patiently at you.
“I’m just… pissed, all the time. Especially at–” you pause, looking away.
“Pissed at Simon?” Price finishes.
You groan. “He’s just on my ass, all the time! He won’t let me lift anything or reach for anything, he barely lets me outside on my own, and when we are, he won’t even let me push the trolley! I’m pregnant, not incompetent.”
Price’s eyes widen slightly.
“I’ve eaten through our entire kitchen,” John gives a relieved sigh. Ravenous can take on multiple meanings after all. “I’ve been eating the most heinous food combinations because of whatever the heck this baby is demanding from me, and I never feel satisfied." Your expression softened a bit. "But I’m also really excited, like, I’m having a baby! With the love of my life, Cap’n, and I’m making it myself, that’s amazing!”
Price smiles with you warmly, he is happy for the both of you. In fact, he was the one who figured it out before you even told anyone. You don’t get to be captain of a covert ops unit by not being observant, he knew you two were acting differently. You both surprised him with a t-shirt that said ‘priceless uncle’ once you confirmed the truth.
“I’m also horny as all hell.”
Price’s eyes squeezed shot. “Bloody hell, Sergeant–”
“I feel insatiable but I also want Simon to leave me the hell alone so I don’t know what to do.”
“But most of all I’m scared, John.” You look at him with tears welling in your eyes. “So much can go wrong… I have to give birth! I could die, the baby could die. It could die before I even give birth. Or Simon could die on duty or worse just leave me high and dry with a new born.”
Price looks sad for you. He wants to comfort you, but he doesn’t want to interrupt you either.
“And I’m already anxious and depressed, what if it gets worse postpartum? What if I spend the whole time hating myself that I’ll neglect the baby? What if I drop it–”
“Y/N, breathe.” Price grabs your shoulders. He wants you to talk, but now you’re spiraling. If he lets you go any deeper, you’ll drown.
He leads you to a wall so you can sit down against it. You’re heaving now, trying to stop the sobs.
“Let it out, bon. It’s OK.”
A sob rips through you and you let the tears flow freely. Price sits close but doesn’t touch, just whispers comforting words.
As you calm down he gets your water bottle from the station you were shooting from. “Drink up, bon.”
You sip from the bottle slowly. When you’re done, you hold the still cold bottle to the back of your neck. “Goddammit…” you mumble.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Y/N, you’re going through a lot.”
You sigh, heavy and exhausted. “I just want it to stop.”
You know it won’t stop, you’re only in your first trimester. But it already feels like it’s too much.
Price lets you catch your breath for a moment before standing up. “C’mon, bon, y’ need to rest.”
You stand with him and you walk to his office together. It’s a walk you, Ghost, Soap and Gaz have taken often, whether it’s to get chewed out for disobeying orders, or to seek refuge like you’re doing now.
You kept your head down, eyes to the floor as Price guides you through the halls with an arm around your shoulders, secure and protective. You pass many people, some of them greet you or give you confused looks, all of them are silenced by Price either with a shake of his head or a glare.
You finally reach his office and Price opens the door. He gestures to the worn couch in the corner of his office. “Go take it easy, bon. I’ll be in the Mess. Give me a ring or come get me if you need anything.”
You settle on this old couch; one that has seen as many if not 10 times more rough days as you; and wrap yourself in the equally old throw blanket draped on the back of it.
Price dims the lights and closes the blinds. Before he leaves, he hears you call his name in a hoarse whisper.
“Can you tell Simon where I am?”
He raises his eyebrows at you.
He smiles at you, the one where the corners of his eyes crinkle and his moustache curves up. “Of course, bon.”
Price shuts and locks the door behind him. He then takes out his phone, dials a number and holds it up to his ear.
“Simon? Yeah, they’re here.”
Simon was on base in record time. What would’ve been a 40 minute drive was reduced to 20 by cutting corners and disregarding several traffic laws.
He stomped to Price’s office, only to find Price already in front of the door. He firmly grabbed Simon by the shoulders.
“Are they in there? Are they OK?”
“They're fine, but they’re sleeping. Best not go in guns a blazin'.”
“I need t’ see them, make sure they're OK.”
“Ghost, they’re fine. You need to listen to me.”
Simon finally stops looking at the office door and looks at Price.
“They’re pretty sensitive right now, OK? Be patient with them.”
“Th’ fook’s that supposed to mean?”
“That means I found them in the range tearing through a paper target like as if it were a terrorist right before crying their eyes out.”
Simon gave Price a confused look before Price let him go. “Talk to them.” He heads back towards the Mess, leaving Simon staring at the office door.
Simon knew you were feeling “sensitive”; he figures you both are feeling a bit raw after the bout you had a few hours ago. But it seemed like Price was referring to more than that.
He needed to see you, to make sure you were OK so you too can talk this out. Then he would take you home and make you dinner and tell you how much he loves you.
From inside the office you jolted from your sleep, dazed from the unfamiliar environment and noise accompanying it.
When you finally remembered where you were you settled back onto the couch. It was probably some recruit looking for Price. If you don't answer, they’ll figure out he’s not here and leave.
Another knock came a moment later, accompanied by a voice. “Luv, it’s me.”
Your eyes opened back up at the sound of Simon’s voice. “Please, lemme see you.” It was edged with an anxiety you’ve only heard after you went dark on a mission for more than 4 days.
You stood up, keeping the blanket wrapped around you and headed for the door. You took your time having just been woken up and all, and the exhaustion from your own emotions finally catching up to you. The only thing stopping Simon from breaking his boss’ door down was the faint sound of your feet dragging across the carpet.
You opened the door and squinted up at Simon, the harsh lights of the hallway assaulting your eyes.
Simon ignored your glare and visibly relaxed. “Bloody hell, Y/N, y’ damn near gave me a heart attack.”
“Mm?” you mumble, eyes still squeezed almost shut.
He grabs your face and looks you up and down. “You’re not hurt?”
“Jus had t’ check.” He sighs again and pulls your flush against him. “I’m sorry I ran away from you, luvie.”
He feels you sigh and nuzzle into him, still half asleep.
“M’ gonna be better, I promise.”
He feels you mumble something into his shirt. “Wut’s that, luv?”
“I know, luv, I’m a right prick. Lemme take y’ home, yeah? I can make us dinner, or we can stop somewhere on th’ way there?”
He placed a kiss on your head and led you to his car. He made a note to come back and pick up yours at another time. For now, he just wanted his spouse home safe.
You were perched on a bar stool in the kitchen, watching Simon cook. Neither of you have spoken since leaving base. Silence between the two of you wasn’t foreign, but this one wasn’t necessarily comfortable either. Both of you are still hesitant to bring up the nasty spat you two had earlier.
Simon’s still thinking about what Price told him, about you being pretty sensitive. It made sense now that he thinks about it. You’re not one to just snap at him like you did earlier, and according to Price, you’ve been crying. There must be something that’s been bothering you, and if he’s being realistic, it was probably him.
He knows it needs to be talked about, but he doesn’t know how to break the ice.
“Price said he found you in th’ range.”
There was a pause before he continued, quieter. “Bet y’ were imagin my head at th’ end of that barrel, eh?”
You huffed out a breath. “Simon, don’t say that.”
“Yes, I was mad, but… not just at you? If that makes sense.”
“Wut’s got my luv all fired up then, eh?”
You chuckled, then paused to collect your thoughts.
Simon nodded, but let you continue.
“I’m gonna be real, I’m really fucking scared Simon. I’ve been scared the whole time. I’m scared about birth, taking care of a baby, raising a human being. I already feel so overwhelmed by these hormones and it hasn’t even been that long.”
Simon by now has turned down the stove and turned to look at you properly. “Doesn’t matter how long it’s been, luv. Pregnancy’s a lot, changes are normal.”
He leans his elbows on the table and cups your cheek at the sight of tears welling in your eyes. “There’s nothin wrong with feelin scared. And ‘m sorry I haven’t been supportin y’ properly.”
“That’s just the thing though, you have! You’ve been keeping me fed and doing chores and going above and beyond to do things for me so I feel like an asshole for being mad at you.” Tears are flowing freely now.
“You’re not an asshole, luv. You’re jus tired. And I’m not mad at ya.” Simon wipes your tears away with his thumb. “But I wish y’ would’ve told me how y’ wus feelin. I know I’m not the one pregnant, but ’m scared too. ‘M scared of doin’ somethin wrong and screwin up the baby. 'M scared of turnin out like my father.”
You sighed and leaned forward, touching your forehead to Simon’s. His other hand held your other cheek and stroked it softly. “But I know you’ll be perfect. Y’ already are th’ way you’ve been takin care of me all these years. Yer so sweet, and loving, t’s impossible not to adore you. And I cannot wait for our baby to meet ya.”
You hiccuped, more tears flowing. “Fuck, Simon.”
Simon goes around the table and hugs you, your arms wrapped around his torso and his head resting atop of yours. “Yer not alone, got it? M’ right here.”
You two stayed like that for a while, wrapped in a ball of tears until you drained your eyes dry for the second time that day. Simon didn’t let go until you did, and when he finally felt you sigh and look up at him, he spoke. “Ya hungry?”
You huffed out a chuckle and kissed his chest. “I love you.”
“I love y’ too, sweetheart.”
