john price absolutely gets roped into being the mall santa after retirement. which eh repeatedly uses as an excuse to sit you on his lap and paw at your clit until you tell him exactly what you want on the 25th.
simon don’t celebrate christmas before meeting you and you can tell because when you ask him to get a tree he comes back with what you think is a branch from your neighbors yard. he makes it up to you by using it as fire wood (anything to keep the house warm enough to have you in booty shorts)
soap insists on baking his grandmothers cookies every year, the. the second the last batch goes into the oven his nose is nudging your clit and his tongue is fucking you against the counter. he only stops when you’ve come at least three times or your kitchen fills with smoke.
gaz wakes you up on christmas with cinnamon rolls and a glass of hot chocolate, gifts you a spa day, a nail appointment, and a mountain weekend, then makes all of your food for dinner. he knows it’s all worth it when you fuck him to sleep after getting home.
nikolai forgets that it’s christmas and somehow you end up in a cabin in the alps with wine and prime rib in the oven. best part about the mountains is that there’s no one out there for miles so he can fuck you against any window without working about getting another public indecency fine.
It’d be so beautiful so tasteful so radiant… if you wrote the painter Simon fic but where you don’t stab a knife in my chest and wiggle it… more like fluff December 😊
you wanna know what? ok. alternative universe it is🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 consider it a christmas gift! (or new years or just a gift for making it through the year!) this is more crack than anything but i still think it’s funny.
(also if you see typos in this let me know, i wrote it while boarding a plane and didn’t proof read🙏🏻🙏🏻)
simone riley didn’t hate the aristocracy; he just hated all of their miserable events they hosted, then forced him to attend. it was no secret he needed money, and as the royal portrait artist the only way to get new clients is to meet them; but he’d soon rather starve than spend the rest of his life cozying up to the bastards of the 1%. so he forces his own little moments of refuge.
these houses are atrociously large and have acres of land that simon discovers. that somehow leads him into the grand duke’s hedge maze instead of the overcrowded greenhouse. he appreciates the silence more than the scenery but won’t complain about either. his seldom only broken as he registers faint cooing from further in the maze, towards on of the many alcoves woven into the design.
he nearly chokes when he sees you; nearly falling over trying to valence on the back panel of a wooden bench, one arm steady on a branch from a tree older than the estate, and the other reaching into the branches nearly grazing whatever poor creature doing everything in its power to escape your grasp.
you notice him the second he enters the small space and he’s perfect: he’s the height of the branch your hand is desperately holding (maybe taller, you’ll have to see him from your regular height, for research purposes), he looks horrified enough at your current position that getting him to help you shouldn’t mate more than a few seconds, and you’re sure he has no idea who you ( thought you know him immediately, simon riley is not a man to miss) are so you don’t have to worry about facing your fathers anger at any rumors of your not so appropriate behavior at your own family’s event.
“please help me sir! my rabbit is stuck and refuses to come down!”
he doesn’t even say anything, just walks over to where you’re still attempting to balance and literally pulls you onto your feet, then onto your butt on the very bench you attempted to scale. and with every ounce of grace he could muster up, he takes the branch in his (very large) hand and shakes.
mittens unleashes a devilish cry ( of which you would never assume a rabbit could make), jumps down and all but launches herself into your arms (protection from the evil, evil man stood watching it all happen.) and before you can even scold him for nearly killing your pet, your name is being called for the goodnight toast (damn your brother for his horrific timing).
“thank you sir riley. mittens owes you her life and i owe you my gratitude, but i regretfully must excuse myself, but rest assured we will see each other again!” and you all but run away from him.
he stares as you leave and you can feel his eyes even as you re-enter the party, and it takes you all but 30 seconds to solidly a plan to he sir riley again. you’ve waited nearly two years for an excuse to speak with him and your upcoming birthday is the perfect opportunity (you’re going to pretend that mittens knew he would be walking around your gardens and knew to act up in order to have him help you to give you an excuse to see him as a thanks! and not the fact that you were walking with her in your arms and tripped over air scaring her so bad the his in a tree for half and hour, to then be even more scared by sir riley forcefully dislodging her from her favorite tree.)
it takes two days for simon to get the request, the grand dukes youngest child needs a portrait for their birthday, and the short time period means extra money; which looking back now he’s happy he took the job soldiering how much of that paycheck went to planning your wedding.
and he laughs when you tell people your pet rabbit was the reason you met your husband because of course you don’t know that he went into the gardens because he know that you liked to hide there during parties and that he knew exactly who you were the second he heard your voice. the funniest part of that you thought the only way you could see him was commissioning painting after painting instead of just asking to meet for tea. but you smile so wide and laugh so loud while telling the story, so he can keep this one little thing from you.
royal portrait artist simon riley who is given a wife from the court to ensure his position in the kingdom. but he didn’t want a wife; he had no interest in entertaining some spoiled bird from the capital, so he just ignores you.
and you spends a few years married, no romance, no children, barely any words spoken between them, until you die young, a childhood illness that was never cured. and simon is left having to explain why your funeral portrait is one from before your union and not one he would have painted after. or a wedding portrait that he’d never even considered making until he realizes that he doesn’t have a single portrait, sketch, or watercolor of his betrothed.
even worse when he takes it upon himself to organized your belongings and he comes across your diary. a detailed recollection of your life and your decision to marry him because you know of his aversion of touching but you admire him and his work so much that it is worth the cold shoulder, and that it isn’t like you had much time left anyway, so you might as well spend your remaining years in his presence.
so that leaves simon, clutching to shakes memories and despair, to desperately try and replicate your essence in a portrait. for weeks, months, and years but none of them are worth any admiration. your eyes are the wrong color, your hair flows in the wrong direction, and your skin doesn’t have the glow it once did. it drives him mad, unable to rest until he can finally have you with him again.
imagine kyle accidently turning their tiny town's nun into a vampire.
he didn't set out to do it but the convent is so close to their territory, and it's been months since he had a good hearty meal but what kind of guy wants to kill a nun? so really his only option is taking you back home and letting his sire decide what to do for you.
and price isn't happy, though he's not known to turn down stray, he isn't sure that kyle's issue is really his problem. but you just look so sweet curled up next to simon still drowsy from dying, sucking blood from his thumb to regain some energy.
he'll have to make soap take care of making sure the town is aware you're with them now but he can't see his second youngest vampire will have a problem with that. and he's on board with allowing you to keep your job for now; and price doesn't think he has it in him to turn his newest fledgling away.
idek what this is; it came out of a deeply evil part of my brain.
johnny mactavish is a dog; every soldier that came across him knew that more than enough. a little too excited to get dirty, eats like he'll never see food again, only takes commands from people he respects, and listens to those commands even less. he's really only slightly better than having a literal mutt on the team, and simon riley doesn't let him forget it.
telling him to fetch, letting him run around a little bit during missions for exercise, he's practically leashed during transport and muzzled during briefs. and simon's a good owner, he knows how to keep a pup behaved when he needs to.
and it turns out he's not the only one to hold mactavish's leash; the invitation to spend the holidays at his glasgow flat with his lass. simon isn't sure how anyone voluntarily spent time with johnny but the second he sees you it all makes sense.
johnny's all but wagging his tail running up to the door to greet you, and you're just perfect. yelling down dog and no sitting on the furniture (until he showers) as johnny literally licks your face as a greeting. simon shakes your hand like a human, simon sits on the couch like normal. you got a guest room that he doesn't think he'll be needing. as far as simon's concerned he and his co-owner need to stay together to raise their pup-- healthy homes make happy pups and he's sure you'll agree.
johnny'll need a little more training to get used to it, but simon's sure he'll get used to it.
good dogs stay off the bed until their owners let them up; great dogs silently watch their owner take simon's cock deep in their throat; greater dogs suck simon's cum out of their owner's cunt as a little treat.
and as johnny whines while being taken out in the morning, simon thinks he'll have to look into crates.
nikolai.......... and also price............. i have literal brainworms because they're all i can think of. (1.3k words about my dream like </////3)
just the thought of john and nikolai sharing a wife but in a poly for convenience kind of way. like it didn't start with both of them, you were married to john first. it was a classic case of small town romance, you knew him in high school, awkwardly dancing around each other, then losing touch over the years, you moved away for school and him joining the military only to run into (literally) each other during the holidays. (John would say you purposefully spilled scalding hot chocolate all over his sweater just so you could drag him to your grandmother's house and have him strip. you would say that he only came with you because he wanted to be stripped.)
throughout you marriage, John never spends too much talking about his job, it’s his burden to carry, there's no need to drag you into the hell he's dedicated his life to. but that doesn't mean that part of him doesn't slip out from time to time. usually in stories about the sergeant he literally picked up off the street, you've seen pictures of the other two as john cackled over his other sergeant's botched haircut (apparently the mohawk was normal but the shaved in union jack was not, but it was a compliment from his LT), and you've met laswell more than a few times while her and her wife visited the london area.
Then came nikolai. your husband's oldest confidant and the only part of his military life john allows over your threshold. and nikolai is not the kind of man to deny an invitation for free lodging, you just wish your husband would clue you in on when those invitations go out. because sometimes, after a long day of errands and fighting for parking spots across town, you come home and there's a man in your kitchen.
but you learn to enjoy the russian man's occasional presence in your home (it takes a lot of work from him, making sure to mention how cold and empty him homes in Latvia and St. Petersburg are during this time of year and what you can assume is a hundred thousand dollars worth of gifts that are now scattered around your formerly humble abode.)
but you let him hang around; he stays for at most a week after every deployment, he spends the holidays under your roof, he spends every summer weekend when the fare comes around and it's nice. when john doesn't like the wednesday gossip show, so nikolai watches it with you. nikolai doesn't want to go on your weekend hikes so you and john leave him to watch the cat. both of them like the steakhouse downtown so all three of you go.
but all of the limits are still there; you're john's wife, that never changes. nikolai is just a really good friend! (a friend that wants you fuck his captain's wife. but he never acts on it, he, acting against his reputation, is not that kind of man. he's seen what that kind of desire does to people so the only thing he allows himself to be is friend. until he has a golden opportunity to be more.)
nikolai isn't a great man, you and john both know that. he has a deep seeded history flipping between the remnants of the soviet empire and personal connections with the russian mob, and most of the time nothing catches up to him. and sometimes it bites him right in the ass.
essentially, from what you were told, an old acquaintance of nikolai's isn't too happy about his current endeavors into other russian arms dealers and since they can't get the man himself (not when he's hiding out in your guest bedroom) they'll just go after all of his property. (which apparently, they can do) but, nevertheless, nikolai is a man of solutions!
"marriage? how on earth will that help?"
the simple answer is property transfers are really easy when you do it with your wife, the long answer is the russian mob is trying to seize some of nikolai's russian properties in an attempt to try and trap him in russia with crippling debts and his military connects can't help with houses but they can expedite a marriage request.
does it put you in slight danger? perhaps. but neither of your husbands would let any scum lay a finger anywhere near you so there really isn't anything to worry about, ангел.
that leads to the most stressful weekend trip of your life; flying to lativa, crossing into st. peterburg in the shittiest van you've ever seen, to a graying court house and the shortest ring ceremony possible with john (your actual husband, which you had to constantly remind yourself not to mention) as your witness, then finally a transfer of property tagged with more zeros than you thought would be possible.
and shockingly, it went off without a hitch. at least you though so, the minuscule amount of russian your second husband managed to teach you did nothing in the actual country (except you managed to order your own dinner on your wedding night and the waitress understood!) and you wished you had just a few more days in the city because nikolai was so proud to show you around his home and you could tell he wanted you to see so much more but there just wasn't any time :(.
but nikolai seems over the moon when you return home. he must be overjoyed to have the mob out of his hair! (but it never crosses your mind that maybe he's over the moon because this is technically your honeymoon and he's been waiting for this since he met you.)
and john's no better. he's always been a fan of you and nik getting along, now it seems more than ever. who cares if nick falls asleep in your room, the bed is big enough and he's your husband too so who cares, just get in the middle and john will be there in a second. nik talks about how he's already planning your first anniversary trip and john makes no move to stop it or even insinuate his presence, it's nik's anniversary so he can do what he wants with his wife. you get matching mugs, two of the restaurants in town think nik's your only husband and no one moves to correct them, he calls you his wife, he brags to people about the bird he and john have waiting at home.
it all comes to head on your and john's anniversary (not marriage but the day you made your relationship official and it just so happens to land on the day you met nik for the first time, the men have already agreed that wedding anniversary's are to be spent with you alone, but all the littles ones are fair game.) and your husband's take any chance to take you out and spoil their bird. so you dress up, in velvet that john got you in Milan and jewelry nik bought in Paris and the shoes you'd ordered for night's out; white (bridal) lingerie tucked underneath it all.
nik usually drives, and when you and john are half a bottle of wine in and the backseat is free, john can't help but strip you before even getting on the highway. and he knows that as much as nik wants to, he hasn't consummated your union the way he'd liked, but as your car door opens and nik's eyes burn, taking in every inch of revealed skin, the only thing john can think of is "who is he to deny a man his wife?"
they'll have to get you a new ring. maybe john'll just melt down both of the old ones and he and nik will have to ring shop for a third time.
he's jealous of the kids who get sugary snacks in their lunchboxes, he's jealous of the privates that get letters from birds while they're away at basic, and he's damn jealous of his captain and his sweet little wife that takes him in after an especially rough deployment.
it burns him inside, he deserves to be taken care of after a long hard day (he watches you help john out of his boots after a hard afternoon of yardwork) he deserves to be pampered and cooked for every night (you run the shower for you husband to jump in, timed perfectly for when dinner gets taken out of the oven), simon deserves to wake up with his cock in your mouth (he doesn't sleep much and you bedroom door is far too thin to continue with your morning routine with a guest in the house).
he deserves you and he'll take you in any way he can.
and john knows, simon knows his captain knows in the way he encourages you to spend time with his lieutenant. taking him to the grocery store under the guise of getting him out of the house for a little, help him work out a bit, it gets lonely in your garage gym and your guest should never feel out of place in your home. run him a bath after his long day, it's ok to fall asleep on him, the war documentary is long and it's late, it's fine when people think simon is your husband, sometimes he deserves a little treat.
so when simon finds himself balls deep in your aching cunt as john smokes by the window, telling him exactly where to put his mouth and how hard his hands can dig into your tits and how fast to circle your clit, he's jealous. jealous the old man knows you so well he can play his lt. like a puppet to please you.
but he guesses that at some point, wherever this is going, he'll know you pretty well too.
i feel the need to expand on this. Thank you to everyone who commented on the last part!! (and special thanks to @thedepreed94 @is-it-murder-if-youre-a-raven and @simonrileyfan who's comments inspired me to continue this!)
for you the repercussions are immediate; you're the single daughter of one of the kingdom's highest ranked dukes, mere minutes after the letter your father has a list of men who are dying to secure a spot in your bloodline. (and even worse, there are more men who want you for the sole purpose of continuing theirs.)
but you don't think about it. for a few days you think about nothing. your body attempts to continue your routine but it feels like there is nothing to continue. there is no receiver for your letters, there are no visits into town as a lone single woman, there are no more late night garden reading sessions. everything you've lived for up until this point had just been ripped from under you in the matter of less than 20 words.
and you become suddenly aware of everything you'd taken for granted. you hadn't been married off yet because it was assumed you would marry john, you were exempt from the diets your peers endured because you had no other man to impress. you didn’t have to show face at aristocratic parties to make connections because you assumed they'd already been made. your etiquette lessons become harsher, every step you take in your house is drowned in judgement, and your parents are disappointed.
to them, to your siblings, your friends, staff, even townsfolk you were the unwanted lady. what downfall could you possess that a man promised to you would be so desperate to get away? maybe you were unpleasant, and the price house did not want an unruly woman in their home, maybe you were soiled and he had discovered you and your secret lover. whatever it was, it was clearly a fault of yours. for everyone else you had been abandoned by your fiancé but to you, you've lost a friend.
and you feel it, hard. gala's become more like exhibitions, who can stand the furthest from you while staring the longest. your library dwindles because john is not there to supply more. there are no more invitations to afternoon tea parties or unformal get togethers. you're more than isolated from the rest of the kingdom and it becomes so suffocating. you need to get out and there are plenty of men with rural land that you can escape to; it doesn't matter how old or how mean, they just need to let you live without the constant weight of eyes on your back. and when you see his land boarders, maybe Phillip Graves wouldn't be such a bad husband at all.
it comes to john much later. mostly in the form of loneliness. your sister is beautiful and poised, the perfect lady, ('raised to be a great mother' his father mentioned but anytime he thinks of that the bile in his stomach starts to turn.) and no one treats him any differently; he spends gala's with the same men he trains with, there are more invitations than ever (a mix of congratulations and curiosity, your sister must have a special charm to rip john from you and everyone wants to see it) , in fact he feels free.
there are no more jabs about "his girl's" letter arriving, or feeling left out when his men take towns ladies to bed and he can't because he's having (very late) afternoon tea. and things with your sister are just so easy; she doesn't challenge his ideas (because she's never read any military theory), she doesn't just show up at his door expecting to be entertained (in fact she doesn't seek him out at all besides logistic matters), and she doesn't crowd him during parties or events (and it's slowly starting to dawn on him that she isn't very interested in him at all).
then it all falls apart. he's trying to get ready for one of the king's ridiculous parties and he waits nearly an hour before realizing that you aren't coming to finish getting ready with him. and he's trying to help with wedding planning, but he doesn't really know what he wants because all of his interests remind him of you. and it's all so lonely; no one else writes him daily letters, no one else wants to walk to meadow behind the tree line or ride out the lake, there's only so much swordsman practice and hunting a man can do before he just wants to have a damn night in with you.
so, he seeks you out.
down the roads he's followed all his life to the fields he's played in for decades to find the woman he's done it all with. except you're not there at all.
some meeting with a man from the countryside your handmaid recalled to john and the world goes dark. somewhere in his prideful plunder he'd forgotten that you couldn't wait for him forever (there wasn't even much waiting to do since he would be married soon). but he couldn't fathom you actually getting married to (someone who's not him) a man you haven't even known for a month. (his question is answered when he runs into your parents on his way out of the manor and all they can say is how proud they are to have introduced you to Graves after how depressed you'd been in the past weeks. and john's never felt worse)
i have such a deep need for duke john price and an arranged mairrage but it all goes horribly wrong. there’s a pt. 2
like imagine growing up along side john and you get along swimmingly ; so when the topic of marriage starts budding, you have full faith that he'll pick you. it's not even as if you two are completely in love but you can't fathom a world where you and him do not marry.
where the problem begins, is everyone believes you and john are meant to marry. at balls neither men nor women approch either of you, as kyle and johnny recive courting gifts all he gets is your daily letter, even his parents push him to prepare for his rapidly approching married life.
and that grates on him. it's his life, it's his marriage. it doesn't matter if you get along, or that you've known each other since infanthood, or that he doesn't think any man can treat you the way you deserve, he can't let everyone else have the pleasure of him doing what they want him to. his pride won't allow him to be pushed around and pick someone just because they've been hanging off his leg since childhood.
and the day comes, your family sits for dinner to open the official request of marriage, it's a beautiful letter, written in john's perfected script, requesting that the eldest of the price sons, marry your older sister.
i don’t think any of the cod men would realistically be on live island in any capacity but some are more likely than others. (this is not proofread at all please bare with me)
soap would go on as, i feel, he is either drowning in pussy or chronically bitchless (it’s this option) but both would lead him into the villa somehow. i’m thinking something like anton from love island um season 5, just some scottish hunk that is just fumbling every single girl in the villa. until casa amor and suddenly you’re sitting pretty in front of him and you actually like him. and once you’re coupled up and back in the villa he’s all over you at all times. kissing you every morning, going ever so overboard during challenges, he’s trying to fuck you in bed next to everyone else, in the showers, on one of the outside beds in the middle of the day, in the pool— it got so bad that the producers had to step in and remind everyone that this is supposed to be a television show not a porn set. in the end soap doesn’t really care about the 100k, but it would be nice since he has a pretty bird to take care of now!
kyle would probably get recruited by the casting team because i have a firm belief that he has a beautifully curated instagram feed. i’m talking like old money polos and beach towns between deployments that would look so good on tv. and he’s overly chill about everything in the villa but is absolutely there to make a connection. so whether you’re an og, a bombshell, or a casa girl once he coupled up with you, he’s with you all the way. there’s no question with him either, he tells you at every chance how he’s only there for you and you’re the only person in the villa that he cares to connect with. now he’s not the type to try anything under the covers, or really anything that’s too close to the other islanders outside of challenges but the second the hideaway opens he’s on you. you don’t even make it outside, he has you pressed into the mattress, on top of him, bent over the side of the bed, the bathroom, etc… he leaves the hideaway with a closed off relationship and a huge step towards 100k.
simon would not go on love island, not even the fannon version of him would go on, but i do think if you were watching he would either watch with you or listen to your episode debriefs. and he doesn’t mind it, you let him talk to you about all of his shit so he can let you have this; the one thing he does not let slide, however, are your comments about the bombshells. ‘oh, he’s hot.’ you know who else is hot? your boyfriend who is all too happy to remind you of the hot guy that lives in your villa.
price would also never be on any kind of reality tv but i feel like he he really likes gossip and drama, like he just nosey so when news about it comes across his normal channels he’s tuned in. so while you don’t say anything about love island to him he’ll drop random terms or quotes into conversations until you catch on and talk to him about it.
studying for finals but all i want it to be bent in half by John Price.
him coming home after a bad day and fucking you over the kitchen counter, hand glued to your hips, pinning you down so he can make sure you feel every inch of him.
him having to leave in five minutes but he convinces you that there's time, so you're bent over the couch watching the clock tick away. his fingers circling your clit, his chest pressing against your back.
in the middle of the night, six rounds deep after a long deployment, he has you on your knees, face pressed into your pillows as he has an iron grip on your headboard, using the leverage to fuck you deeper into the mattress.
over the hood of his new car, tits pressed against its shiny paint, arms stretched out to hold onto anything stable as he fucks up into you.
being hired to be the medic for an elite task force came with it's own insanity- which you prepared for.
you prepared for the amount of blood, Sergeant MacTavish and his tendency to get shot in the arm, then not heading your warning about overusing said arm, then blowing his stiches causing even more blood.
you prepared to be fought against, Captain Price and his need to be constantly working and on top of things, which he can't exactly do with a nasty concussion from being in a helicopter crash, but he only listens to you after getting flash banged by his own office lights.
you prepared to be listened to, Sergeant Garrick is like an angel in a sea of demons, it's not often, but when he does get injured he hangs off of every word you say to him. he comes in early for his check-ups, heads your warnings and even got you a little mug when you clear him for field activities.
you even prepared to get nothing, Lieutenant Riley doesn't get hurt, then when he does he just sits and listens to you rattle on about how to take care of his ankle, then he leaves with a nod of his head.
what you did not prepare for was walking in on poor Sergeant MacTavish- after a nasty fall out of a moving truck, then rolling into a ditch and diving right into a river- sat up, head thrown back, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. he isn't nearly as shocked as you were, there was always a risk of someone walking in on you in the military and he had been practically shouting your name.
and Johnny was not the 141 member known for sweet-talking but he somehow convinces you that getting him off will not only make him feel better now, but it will also exponentially speed up his recovery! and so you end up on your knees, licking his cock up and down as his hand guides the back of your head.
and, to your dismay, he did make a speedy recovery, but gave your blowjob skills all of the credit. and he made sure everyone possible knew about your magical skills. (you were worried about getting fired for malpractice, the 141 was plotting who was gonna be next.)
now they didn't all suddenly throw themselves in the path of danger, no amount of horniness would make them risk their jobs, but no one can help not getting hurt every once in a while.
Sergeant Garrick getting his face thrown into a concrete wall and just needing you to sit on it to make him feel better. hands holding your hips to his face, tongue circling your clit as you try to hold onto the metal headboard of the infirmary room. and one time just isn't enough, most medicine takes a few doses before it can actually start working, so he needs you on your back, and bent over the bed, and sitting on the examination table; not to mention those weekly check-ins to make sure he's actually healing.
then Captain Price gets caught in a nasty helicopter crash, his leg is hurt, not broken, but he can't do anything but paperwork for a month. and that's ok! because he has you to sit on his cock for hours, you don't want him to be lonely while his team gets to be together, and laswell is for too busy to keep him company. and it really will help him to have your tight pussy squeezing his cock while he completes his work. and since it's all confidential, he can’t have you reading over all of it, so his only choice is fucking you until the only thing you can think about are his fingers playing with your clit and his cock fucking into you.
Lieutenant Riley doesn't get hurt, so he has to get a little creative. (he wants to just pick you up and fuck you wherever he can but Johnny said that would ruin the bit, he doesn't care about the fucking bit when he's the only one who hasn't fucked their medic.) so he's suddenly in your office about everything; his fingers are aching from having to teach rookies the proper way to hold a gun, he hit his head on a doorframe and needs some pain meds, dog bite, until he just gets fed up. those fuckers were handed perfect opportunities and it's clear that he isn't getting the same grace, so he'll just have to create it on his own.
obviously that includes just going to your office, locking the door, and fucking you against it. it's unceremonious and rather inopportune but his face is in the junction of your shoulders, biting into the flesh of your neck, and his hands are keeping you pinned to the door as his hips piston into yours. he sits with you for at least an hour after, cleaning the cum on your thighs, then leaves you with four dog tags and a command to wear them at all times.
and any question about who's medic you were are promptly shut down now that a 6'4 ghost, or the loudest scot on the planet, or the smell of cigars that don't come out even with bleach, or Sergeant Garrick follow you around.
i haven't written anything for nikolai so you guys have no idea how much i need him. I WANNA FUCK ON HIM. anyway.
being an engineer for the SAS was not in your life plan, so being an SAS engineer working on a ex-soviet soldier's chopper while he less than subtly checks you out was even farther away from your plan, yet somehow that is exactly where you landed.
"ok, um-everything looks ok with the engine, so you should be all good to keep flying. just make sure you don't leave so much time between check-ups next time."
"ah, thank you, malyshka. i should take your number then, da? to call you about check-ups?" his grin is nothing less than shit-eating as he stalks closer to where you're standing.
and you're by no means the best person for this job, there are dozens of guys that have done this for years- you just got called in for the day-"oh! well, i'm uh not super goo with this stuff, you can just tell Mrs. Laswell and she can send one of the-"
"no malyshka, you've done so well for me today. i don't trust many people in my hangar, it has to be you. so your number?"
and you don't know if it's on purpose (it is) but nikolai manages to call you every time he fly’s back to base (it's like his little reward for making it back) because something has gone wrong with his helicopter (he keeps disconnecting random wires that won’t affect the actual helicopter but still needs his little malyshka attention to fix).
State Trooper Price who has your car's make, model, color, and license plate memorized so he can pull you over every chance he can
Detective Riley who shows up at your door with a warrant even though he knows you have absolutely nothing to do with the crime at hand, so he just ends up staying for tea
Officer Garrick that makes sure to enter the coffee shop you stop at every morning to 'make sure he didn't have to put a missing person’s report in'
Rookie MacTavish who has no idea why all his superiors are so into this random civilian, until he sees you then he's suddenly getting "call after call" about suspicious figures in your development that he literally has to check out
State Trooper Price who has yet to actually give you a ticket
Detective Riley who tells you things you absolutely have no business knowing because he's sure you're not going to tell anyone
Officer Garrick who offers you rides in his patrol car and rides along the sidewalk talking to you when you refuse
Rookie MacTavish "accidently" mixing you up with a high-profile suspect so you end up in a holding cell under his watch for 12 hours
State Trooper Price who gives you a police escort to your destination because you were going to be late
Detective Riley who you know has been in your house while you were gone because you're down one tea bag and your newspapers have been read through
Officer Garrick who has a hand on his taser, ready to go because someone catcalled you
Rookie MacTavish who requests camera footage from the bar you were at with your friends so he can make sure nothing "illegal" (someone hitting on his lass) was happening
State Trooper Price that gives you his badge number so anytime you actually do get pulled over you can just whip it out and be let go (but when it gets back to him he'll make sure to hunt you down for his "thank you")
Detective Riley who suddenly buys the apartment right next door and need you to show him around the building
Officer Garrick who fends off every other officer for calls to your neighborhood
Rookie MacTavish who has your coffee and food order memorized so when he runs into you by chance, he'll already have it
and poor you, who can't even go to the police about any of it. (not that you really want to, you practically have the entire justice system in your back pocket and you don't even know what you did to deserve it)
yeah he covers his face and he's silent more than he's speaking but beyond that he's a confident bastard. he loves showing off: his knife skills, how he can snipe a man from hundreds of meters away, the cute bird he has at home, how much he can deadlift- and the list goes on and on.
and that's exactly why he has you bent over his barrack desk with only 20 minutes until he's needed at the hangar.
he at least lets you keep your shirt on (you've learned from the time soap barged in and got a full face of your tits) but it doesn't really help when your shorts are hanging off one ankle and your ass is in the air.
his body pins your upper body to the desk and you would complain about your boobs being smooshed if not for his fingers circling your clit and his hips slamming into yours.
"you like tha'?" he stands back up, hands landing firmly on the dip of your waist, "yeah ya do. always love how you take me so well."
"f-feels good simon."
"i know ya do, too good f'me."
you walk out with him on wobbly legs and are left with a sweet peck on the lips and a return date.
i love the idea that simon thinks he's super open and available with his emotions and reader thinking he's really cold and disinterested. is he ooc? yeah. do i care? no. if you want cannon ghost, play the game!
simon riley doesn't know when you became so important to him.
the only reason he even put out the ad for a roommate was because his landlord though he'd moved out while he was away and he'd rather have some bird in his place than deal with that again.
you were just so easy; showing up to the coffee shop (where you requested to have your first meeting just in case he was some crazy murderer) face flushed, strands of hair all over the place, and sweater a mess; rushing to explain how you got sprayed by a sprinkler on your walk over then chased by a dog. and just as you repeat sorry for the 30th time simon thinks he's in love. you're officially his roommate 30 minutes later.
but it's so out of character for him. he hasn't been around anything other than hard ass military men since he was a teenager. fuck, he's killed hundreds of men in his line of work, tortured thousands more. (he doesn't like to think that that's why he's so drawn to you. that you're so different from who he has to be, someone he's been for so long, that being around you lets him breathe. that he feels like he can actually sit and enjoy his moments away from the field in your tiny manchester apartment.)
he thinks it actually started with the decorations.
the small trinkets you let around the common spaces when he was away. it starts with your room obviously; fairy lights above your bed that spills light into the hallway when he comes home in the early morning hours, paintings on the wall that eventually flow over into the living room, the small plants in your window sill that you ask him to water one day after you leave for work.
then the dinner table suddenly has checkerboard placemats and a vase of flowers that change with the season. and his run-down couch has decorative pillows and a throw blanket (both words he learned from you when he questions what the fuck is on his couch). then the bathroom in the hallway gets a new soap stand, and a mat is placed at your front door, next to the shoe organizer and coat rack.
so he starts buying things too; the penguin plushie in the supermarket window, the vase that matches the curtains in the living room, and a small skull magnet to rest on the face of your fridge.
and before simon knows it his dreary, cold apartment actually looks lived in. and instead of coming home to a dark hallway and an empty fridge, your flower lamp is on, some random show from the 90s is playing, and there's food on the table.
he gets to know you more than he thought he would; he knows what foods you don't like, the books you're reading and the ones you refuse to read again, and even that dick from work he promises to take care of if he bothers you again (it's evident that you think it's a joke and not something that he would genuinely do but simon doesn't think he's ever been more serious).
but he never lets you know too much about him, you don't need to know about it and the less you find out the better.
then came dinners, actual dinner not just him showing up while you already had food ready. you would ask if he wanted whatever you had made ( 'i'm already making food and i normally don't eat is all anyway, so i might as well share' ). so suddenly he was spending his nights at your table with a homecooked meal and simon doesn't think he could ever let this go.
then he gets sent away again, for way longer this time. he makes sure to update his paperwork, changes his emergency contact, your name swirled onto the spouse line. you were probably as close as he'll ever get to one and if you're there they'll tell you if anything happens to him faster. he doesn't want to think of how nice your first name looks with his last name. and you'll probably never even know, simon's never gotten that injured before and he doesn't plan on it now.
months in the heat of the middle east return him to hard shell of a man he was. coming home caked in dirt, blood speckled on his clothes; he doesn't want you to see him like this, he doesn't want you to know this version of him. and for the first time he regrets letting you come into his life.
you are home when he gets back, 2:30 in the morning and every light is off, he opens your door to make sure. you're asleep, not shocking, cuddled into the giant octopus you won at an arcade. he tries not to move, he just wants to look at you for a little bit.
he wakes up the next morning to breakfast and a new pair of combat boots. he's only home for a week this time, not that he's ever home for longer than a month, and he tries to soak up all of your time. you complain about your car, he's on it. the heater started being testy, that's fine he'll take care of it. he's going grocery shopping with you, he watching that weird hospital show, and he enjoys his time in domestic bliss before getting thrown back into some random country.
somehow that all led him here. laying in a hospital bed with two bullets lodged in his shoulder with you sitting in some shitty chair pulled as close to the bed as you could.
