…THE BLOOD THAT BINDS
500 FOLLOWER SPECIALLL
simon ‘ghost’ riley x mafia!reader, slow burn, angst, slow burn,“who did this to you” trope, swearing, probably incorrect views on the mafia, somewhat detailed fight scene, car chase, use of guns, smut, car sex, unprotected sex (dont do it), f receiving oral, piv, enemies to lovers
div creds… @kimjiho1
wc… 4.8k
guys ik its long but it’s fyre at the end
blessings and riches, tessa <3
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the entire task force knew that you and simon hated each other. simon was always trying to one up you, and you were sick of it. you had left the force a few years back, simon stayed. you didn’t leave because of him though, you left to take care of your family.
your mother was very ill and your father had passed after getting shot on a drug deal. you joined the task force to chase your dreams, but your mother always worried for you.
it was a calm autumn evening, the crisp leaves floating around the ground as the wind howled throughout the city. it was around six o’clock, time for mama’s medicine. you grab a small dish and place her pills in there, along with a tall glass of water.
you walked down the hall to her room, flicking on the light. she was sat atop her bed, hunching over something. “hey mama” you said, pills and water in hand. “time for your medicine.”
she turns to face you, and you notice something in her hands. its a picture, a few if that. you step up to her to see what it the picture was of, and you nearly drop the glass in your hands. i
t’s a picture of you when you were small, next to someone. not just someone, simon riley. how you knew it was him? he always kept a picture of him when he was young with his uncle (who passed) in the pocket of his shirt.
you saw it once when it slipped onto the floor, but didn’t say a word. in the picture, the two of you were no older than six. you had no recollection of this picture, let alone being within a five foot radius of him not during the job.
“what is that?” you ask, a slight shrill to your voice. “oh don’t you remember? simon used to always stop by when you were kids, and we would take care of him when his family wasn’t good to him.” she says, her voice warm but the words cold. “the two of you were best friends.”
friends? with simon riley? as if.
you don’t buy a single word she says, but look at the picture. it does look like simon if he were younger. you ignore it, not wanting to see him in that light.
the same man who made the force call you ‘wasp’ because you screamed when you saw one on a mission (nearly getting killed) was your friend? you push that thought to the back of your mind and clear your throat.
“here mama, take your meds.” she takes the pills with water and places the half-full glass on her nightstand. “how y’feeling?” you break the silence once again, not wanting to leave yet. “i’ve been better.” she says with a sigh. “go. you have work tomorrow morning, we can talk lots after.”
whenever mama was feeling well enough to walk down to the living room, we always played cards and talked about anything. well, i talked her ear off. “alright mama, sleep well.” you get up to leave the room, flicking off the light and closing the door.
you go to your bathroom and get in the shower. you joined the force on a whim, knowing it’s not what your father wanted. he wanted you to grow old and take over his empire in the mafia, so he always said ‘you need your training young.’
now that he’s gone, you had no choice but to leave the force and take his power. you had been living in L.A. for your whole life, but what mama didn’t need to know is that your were los angeles’ most wanted.
the mob boss of the mafia in L.A., the most respected. she thought that after her husband died, the mob ties were over, but you needed to fulfil what your father couldn’t.
the only way out of the mafia is in a casket.
mama’s house was just off the city in a quiet town. no one knew you lived there, they didn’t need to.
you grab your shampoo bottle a little too aggressively, but you didn’t care. some shithead was running around owing you favours and money, and you were sick of it.
leo avonetti. a nepo baby who was too busy choking on his silver spoon to learn morals.
leo, who was once an acquaintance, who’s now dangling false evidence over your head. just some old pictures from the force that could be seen as suggestive, but if they got out, you would lose respect dramatically. leo also released a few public statements about how your father was nothing but a lazy nepo child.
back when you were friends, you always helped him get rid of evidence, loan money, make others respect him; but nothing in return.
it was one thing to do a favour for a close friend, it was another for a close friend to mistake your kindness for weakness. you wash your hair and try to take a breath, but you’re fuming. you finish cleaning yourself and step out of the shower, drying off.
you just thought of all the ways you could go about hurting leo. you get dressed into your pyjamas, grabbing your phone off the charger and laying in bed.
you scroll through some instagram reels on your burner account, then decide it’s too late to keep scrolling. you set your phone down and drift to sleep.
your alarm blares, startling you. you don’t remember having it so loud, but you shut it off and peel yourself out of bed. you brush your teeth and wash your face like any other morning, but you’re still gonna rip leo’s head off.
it was a planned attack for when he was most vulnerable. as you’re trying to pull on a sweater, your phone rings. it’s one of your men. “yeah?” you ask, pulling the sweater over your head. “we got eyes on avonetti. we’ll take him in the van and right back to base.” your main man, ralph, said over the line.
“sounds good. leave him until i get there” you said, fixing your shirt. “sounds good boss” ralph said, hanging up the phone. you went down to the kitchen, grabbed an apple, your purse, and some other stuff and left.
your mother was still asleep from when you checked this morning, leaving her medication for when she woke up. your brother was driving and would be there to take care of her soon, so you entered your car. connectinng your phone to the bluetooth, you drive to ‘the diner’ like you have multiple times. ‘the diner’ was a coverup for where you did certain business.
it was a far drive, around an hour, taking the fact that you lived in the middle of nowhere. it was nice and private, exactly what a mafia boss needs. music fills the car as you take your time driving there.
you’re thinking of how you wanted him to suffer, all the ways you could make sure he would hurt. once you arrive, you head down to the basement where most took their last breath.
you walk down to see leo avonetti, tied up to a chair and mouth bound with a gag. “i got it from here, ralph.” you say to the broad and intimidating figure near the door as he exits.
“you know why i bring you down here?” you ask. leo doesn’t seem to be phased at all, which should be your first flag. you grab a knife from the table holding multiple torture weapons.
you drag it slowly across his cheek, standing behind him. “because you have no respect for those who helped you. no respect at all, hm?” you say, slicing his cheek with such precision.
then, you hear a mass amount of gunshots. you perk your head up, knowing your men wouldn’t let someone in the ‘diner’. footsteps come racing down the steps.
fuck.
“boss watch out, leo’s men are here!” one of your men screams, opening the latched door.
double fuck.
you smack leo in the head, “what the fuck avonetti?” you scream, knowing the gunshots are getting closer. there was a back door to the torture room, which had a bunch of bolts on it. there was hardly an escape, unless it was back up where avonetti called his minions.
three men with guns run down the stairs, pointing them at you as your draw yours. you ducked in the direct line of leo, anyone who tried to hit you would hit him first.
you hear more gunshots and a few grunts from your men, raising your head to shoot a few shots and using leo as a shield. you preferred the killing part of this job, not the actual fighting though.
you get up, maneuvering shots fired at you and ducking at ones that were in your line. most, if not all, of avonetti’s men had some sort of injury from your proficient team, leaving their shots useless.
ralph and malachi, your two best men, took on three of avonetti’s whilst two other shot at you. the room was huge, lot’s of tables covered in tools (to which you didn’t use for their actual reasoning).
you throw a saw at one and fire at the other. you’re not sure if it hits them, but through the legs of the table while ducking you notice their guns drop. they’re situated right beside the door though, so it would have to be a two on one.
you make a run for it, one of the men noticing you before the other. you head butt the first guy, causing his nose to bleed. the second comes upon you from behind, to which you elbow him in the throat and donkey kick him in the crotch. he dubs over, you turn your head to meet the barrel of a pistol.
the boy wasn’t too big per se, just tall. he gets a few swings on you, but he misses one, so you duck down and tackle him through the door and into the staircase.
his head smashes on something, you just hear a few cracks and a slam. you stomp over him, making a run up the staircase as you grab ahold of your gun.
this was a lot of shit for midday.
you take a peek around another threshold that separated the actual ‘office’ area, trying to notice where avonetti’s men are, when you feel a sharp pain in your leg.
you look down, face to face with a large slash in your pant leg, which tore through the fabric and into flesh. you react quickly, using your good leg to swing back at one of avonetti’s guys that sliced your leg. you hear a grunt, then turn to see him back down the stairs, falling.
you try to run back up, the pain searing through your leg. you notice most, if not all, of the avonetti posse are down, unconscious. even some being taken away. you didn’t care for avonetti at this point, just not dying today.
you hide behind a desk as you hear more footsteps approach. they’re coming up the stairs, and you hear the deep voice of ralph explore the air. “boss! boss where the fuck are you?” then, malachi’s. “all of avonetti’s men are gone!”
the words sear through the thick air and you retreat to the staircase, meeting ralph and malachi’s blood soaked faces. “let’s get you some help” ralph says, not giving you any room to protest. you do anyway.
“i don’t need help, what? i’m fine. i’ll just go for a drive, get the team to clean these guys up.” you gesture to leo’s team. or, what was his team.
“absolutely not. there’s hits out on you now-“
“oh please, as if anyone takes leo avonetti’s team seriously. i don’t need help, seriously!”
the banter between you and malachi kept going on, when ralph’s voice cut through the conversation. “you’ll come with me. to my safehouse. my cousin’s, actually. but he’s probably deployed right now.” he adds that last part a little quieter, but you make out the words.
“fine. if that’ll get you guys to stop being so annoying, then fine.” you say, walking to the ‘diner’ coverup. the boys walk beside you, all the way out to ralph’s car.
you make it in the backseat, leg cramping as you sit there. the drive is silent, not much to be spoken.
the bungalow is crowded, you limp into it. ralph said something about having to take malachi somewhere else, and to just get the first aid kit in the first room in the bathroom. as much as you wanted to say you didn’t need help, you needed help.
you were losing blood fast. you also probably have a black eye and some cuts on your face. everything starts spinning, you try to grab onto a chair nearby if that’ll make if stop.
you fall to the ground, bleeding out on the floor. with all your energy, you try to sit up, but it won’t work. you try to drag yourself to the bathroom, but fail trying.
all of a sudden, you feel a hand on your leg. it’s gentle, almost featherlike, running something along the gash in your leg. you raise your neck a little bit, and see a balaclava.
that balaclava.
your breath catches in your throat. “yeah, ‘s me don’t lose y’panties.” the man says, gruffly. he ties something around your leg, a tight tourniquet to stop the blood. when he’s done, he sits you atop the counter with the first aid kit ajar.
“who did this to you.”
the words come out slow and articulated, almost like a taunt. “none of your business.” you try to shove him off, but he was also taking care of you and could dictate when you got kicked out of his house.
“well, y’bleedin’ all over m’floor, seems like my business” now these words felt more like a taunt. he’s cleaning up more cuts as he speaks.
“jus’ something with work, ‘s all” you speak softly and carefully. “what work? y’left the force ages ago?” his statement sounds like a question, and you divert your gaze from his. it felt to awkward to even be here, back on the force you would’ve never let him even see a hair out of place.
“just- work.” you say again. nobody other than your family knew that you had mob ties, that your father killed more than simon has.
“no fuckin’ line o’ work other than the military would get y’this fucked, so either y’got in a fight or y’in the fuckin’ mafia” his words might’ve been true, but you didn’t care.
you noticed you let a little too much silence slip in between his words, and you’re staring right into his eyes.
“boss, i’m back. we’ll get you to the hospital.” ralph says, breaking the uncomfortable silence that filled the air. “simon?” he notices simon stepped to the side, they greet each other as you limp down from the counter and they practically carry you to the car.
they carefully set you down in the back, adjusting your leg so it’s elevated. you can hear them talking, but just barely. something about how ralph didn’t know simon moved back to L.A. and simon didn’t know anything about his work.
you make it to the hospital, hardly mustering strength to get out of the car. it’s a blur, but you get on a cot and are rolled away somewhere.
you wake up, the florescent lights attacking your eyes. you see two men sitting beside you, their expressions unreadable. “finally you’re up, let me get the doctor” ralph acknowledges your open eyes and leaves the room.
you hate hospitals. that’s were people go to die, and you weren’t fucking dying. simon takes a step closer, looking at you through his balaclava.
“wasp.”
“ghost.”
“what y’doin’ for work?”
“stuff.”
“i swear to god if you went from the force to the mafia.”
“fuckin’ ‘ell! why would y’do that? you could’ve gone miles with the force, yet y’decided-“
“i didn’t have a fucking choice simon!”
just when you scream, the doctor and ralph appear. “good evening, mrs riley. how are you feeling?” mrs riley? the doctor takes a few steps closer. “good, thank you” you reply, glaring at simon. the doctor’s speaking, but you don’t really care for what she’s saying.
“when can i get outta here?” you ask, sitting up. “well- i need to ensure you can have a safe environment at home, you can be safe, but for now you have to be here.” you shake your head slightly. “no, i’ll be fine. i promise. it’s just a few stitches yeah? he’s a first responder, i’ll be okay.” you gesture to simon on that last part.
“and what is your relation to mrs riley?” the doctor turns to simon.
“husband.”
the doctors eyes seem to be searching for a ring on either of our fingers, but don’t find one. “now my wife and i will be leaving shortly.” they keep talking, but all you can think about is how much you wanted to go back to your home. to your mother, to your brother.
after some time, without realizing it, the doctor left the room. after about two hours after the stiches, the boys are telling you to get your stuff, and get out of here.
the car is cramped again, you’re laid in the back seat. “the fuck was that mrs riley shit?” you ask no one in particular. “it was that or let the doctor know you got that cut from trying to kill someone, and fighting their entire team.” ralph’s voice cuts sharp as he starts the car.
you didn’t tell the boys where you lived, no one knew, but you’re stopped. you look out the window, and it’s the same damn bungalow safe house.
“what’s going on?” you ask, as simon opens your door and brings you into the house, despite your protests. ralph opens the door, simons hands being occupied with you. once you’re in, you’re set down on the couch with simon on the chair next to you.
“i have to get back to work.” you say coldly, trying to sit up, but you feel the weight of simons hand push you back down. “you’re never going back to that work site again, i hope you know.” what the fuck did he know? nobody should dictate how you lived your life, especially not your enemy!
“oh fuck off. you don’t understand simon, you never have.” the words are cruel, but true. he was a stuck up stubborn cunt and you didn’t care.
“you came into my house and i patched you up. we got you help, now i’m trying to understand.” he doesn’t make any sense. “i came into ralphs house, i didn’t even know where the fuck i was!” you inform him, ralph sitting in the kitchen minding his business.
a beat of silence passes before simon takes a deep breath.
“who. cut. your. leg. open.”
each of his words are sounded out and articulated, with space between each one.
“none of your-“
“it is my business, who did that to you.”
“jus’… an attack gone wrong.” you finally confess, hoping ralph would intervene for two seconds to help your case.
“you got hurt in an unsafe environment.”
“oh for fucks sake simon you’re a special operator! we’re doing the same thing, one is just glorified-“
“and what would the same thing be?”
“killing the fucking enemy! don’t you understand? i have to do this! i have to kill them, or they’ll kill me!”
all three of you are standing now, two screaming at each other. you could barely walk, but you’ve dealt with worse.
“thank you for your help ralph, i’ll be going now. i expect to see everyone down at work at 8am, any later and you’ll be fired.” the statement is not what simon wants to hear; he wants to understand you.
he wants to understand why you two always hated each other, why he could (kinda) get along with new recruits but never you. why you never ask anyone for help, even when you need it.
“you’re not going anywhere.” ralph says, walking to the couches. “yes, i am. i’ll be on my way.” you turn to leave, but see simon standing at the door.
you groan, just wanting to leave. ralph walks up to simon, they turn around while talking lowly, not loud enough for you to hear.
“i’ll be going back to the ‘diner’, simon will stay with you.” ralph says, turning back around. you open your mouth to protest, but realize it won’t get you anywhere.
you flop on the couch, staring blankly at the black screen tv. “why do you have to kill them?” simon asks, not moving from where he stood. “i have to clean up the shit my father left, no thanks to him. the mob ties never end, simon.” your blood boils as you get riled up again. simon just nods, making his way to another room.
he comes back and tosses you something. you take a look, and they’re sweatpants. your pants got cut up, so you nod in gratitude and step to the bathroom to change.
a little while passes, simon perched on the chair beside you as the two of you watch a shitty quality manchester united game. you hear the ring of your burner phone, and reach out for it. it’s ralph, calling you from work.
“what’s going on?” you answered the call.
“get y’self in the car with simon, drive as far away from there as you can.”
“what? why?”
“someone apparently saw you getting out of the car, now they’re tying it to simon since his name is under the rent.”
shit. this is why you lived in the middle of nowhere.
“fuck.” “there could be people already on their way, and if they find simon, he’s out of the force forever. go!” the shrill voice over the phone is loud enough for simon to hear as you end the call.
“we gotta go.” you say, flicking the tv off and grabbing simon’s car keys. “the fuck y’doin’ wit’ those?” he asks, gesturing to the keys. “fuckin’ drivin’ outta here, let’s go” you state, heading to the door.
simon grabs the keys out of your hand, claiming you’re in no shape to drive. your thigh was sewed up, but he might’ve been right. he exits the safehouse, leaving you standing there. you quickly grab your gun along one of ralphs, and rush out the door.
you steps are quick, locking the front door as you get in simon’s car. simon’s driving is fast, just as far away from the safe house as possible. then, you get another call.
“boss.”
“what now?”
“a-a picture of you exiting the same house as simon has been circulating the internet.”
it doesn’t even register to you fully as your next words slip out. if the wrong person got their hands on it, cops would be involved, and hits would be put on you, most likely from avonetti’s men.
“delete it. i want it all gone, don’t leave a single trace.”
“you got it.” the call ends, ralph’s voice disappearing.
“drive.”
“i am driving.”
“drive faster!” the car speeds up, as you take a look out of your window and see two black cars behind you, along with one much too familiar gray nissan. avonetti’s nissan.
your team was tailing him for months before todays attack, it had to be it. “shit, avonetti’s here!” you call out as simon picks up the pace. he drove a small audi, the speed wasn’t terrible.
you roll down your window, reloading your gun. “the fuck y’doin’!” simon calls oit over the sound of wind rushing in. you shoot three precise shots at one of the cars, making their vehicle spin out of control.
you shoot two more bullets at the second black car, just barely missing the driver. you reload, but hear the inadmissible sound of a few bullets hitting the back of the car, exuberantly jerking the car.
you go out your window again, shooting right at the driver in the last black car and knocking it out of the road. there’s still avonetti’s car, you notice it’s just him there, firing at your car. he’s missing most of them, but he’s also on the right side of the car, simon’s side.
it would be impossible for you to get him out of your window, so you have to think fast.
“you’re a trained driver right?” you ask simon, hoping the answer is yes. “a li’le bit, why?” he responds, driving with caution. “stay focused.”
you climb out of your seat and over the centre console. your right knee finds it’s way on simon’s left, opposite for your other knee. you’re now straddling him, rolling down his window with your fully reloaded handgun.
you aim right at avonetti, and shoot. a few times. the car spins around, coming to a stop as you watch it in the distance.
the world is quiet for a moment, just a moment. you look into simon’s eyes, who’s meet yours for a moment, just a moment. it may have been a moment, a few seconds, but it felt like you could be trapped in eternity in just that moment.
simon’s eyes snap back to the road as you roll up his window. you feel the car significantly slow down, until it comes to a stop.
you awkwardly try to get up off simon’s lap, but his firm hands hold your hips. your eyes meet once again, words passing even through a look.
he opens his door, holding you close as he gets out of the car. you can’t see avonetti’s cars in the distance, you’re pulled over somewhere. simon carries you to the back seat, where he sets you down on the seat.
“simon-“
“do you or do you not want to have sex with me.” his word are blunt, straight to the point. like always.
“yeah i do” you say after a moment of clarity. he joins you in the crammed backseat, the two of you just barely fitting.
your button up is being unbuttoned by simon’s large hands as you work on his belt. in a moment, you’re both naked in the back of simon riley’s car.
if someone had told you that you’d be here this morning, you would’ve killed them.
“sit back, le’ me take care o’ you” his accented words are thick, as you sit against the door. he rips his balaclava off his head. you had seen his face a few times, but not in a while.
simon dives into you, licking stripes along your cunt. his tongue is flat against your heat, exploring your taste.
his warm tongue delves into your cunt, his nose grazing your clit. he fucks his tongue in and out of you, like your taste will cure something in him.
spoiler, it does.
he sucks your clit, and you feel your orgasm approaching. “si… simon i’m gonna cum!” “cum all over my tongue, darlin’.” your orgasm rips through you, a feeling you haven’t felt in a while.
simon gets up, rubbing his hand along your stomach as he checks the centre console for napkins. “si” you breathe out, catching his attention.
“‘s this ‘si’ shit? what ‘appened to ‘beady eyed bastard’?” he remarks what he heard you say about him from way back on the force. after that, he made you spar with him.
“simon please, just fuck me!”
that was the bratty tone you used when you wanted, no, needed something, simon knew that. he heard that tone often. “y’sure y’alright?” he asks, as you tell him that it would be fine.
so here you are, legs spread as simon is lined up to your entrance. “tell me ‘f ‘s too much” he says lowly, slowly pushing into you.
“fuuuuuckkk.”
he groans as he fucks his tip into you. you moan at the stretch, loving every second of it. “fuck simon, need you… all ‘f you.” he looks into your eyes, mind wandering.
“i don’t wanna ‘urt you” he says, you practically roll your eyes. “i’m not fragile simon, just fuck me!” you whine. he pushes in, centimetre by centimetre, until he’s touching your cervix.
“y’needy li’le brat. some things don’t change, huh?” he says condescendingly at your fucked out state. he thrusts into you, pace quickening with each thrust until he’s fucking you like a toy.
you grab for his shoulders to ground you, scratching red lines down his pale skin. “fuck si… i’m gonna cum!” you whimper out, just barely.
“i can tell, darling. let it out f’me” he smiles.
you never found yourself listening to lieutenant riley’s commands, but you could see yourself listening to simon’s. you get hit with your second orgasm, digging crescent shaped divots into simon’s shoulders. you feel warmth coat your insides, filling you up.
to the rest of the world, you were a monster. to simon? well, you were also a monster, but not just that. you’re a work of art, every aspect of you tells a story.
tessa’s notes… holy shit. i can’t believe so many of you want to follow along my writing journey. thank you so much to those who do follow me, i love you all. thank you.
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