pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader
cw: implied smut, simon is a flirt, he'd rather be home with his lovie than at a social gathering
"Simon, can you help me love?"
Your back was facing simon, head turned to look at him behind your shoulder.
He was in the middle of buttoning his shirt, a chuckle rumbling out of his chest as he stepped closer to you — calloused hands running along your back, savoring the feeling of his hands on your soft skin. He lowered his head and planted a kiss your shoulder, making the small hairs on the back of your nape rise and a whine fall past your lips.
"Simon." You'd huff out softly, pouting at him for being such a tease.
"Sorry darlin', you just look so beautiful."
He whispered lovingly, planting one more gentle kiss on your exposed shoulder before zipping up your dress.
"You're stunning, love." Simon hummed as he looked at you through the mirror, his hands resting on your hips as he kissed the top of your head.
"We're gonna be late if you keep this up Simon."
"I wouldn't mind that."
You rolled your eyes, wriggling yourself out of his grasp as you walked to where your heels were. Simon followed closely behind, hooking his arm around your waist to stop you from bending down to grab your heels.
"I'll do it for you love."
Simon purred softly, kneeling on one leg as his hands guided your feet to slip into your heels, planting a tender kiss on your knee as you giggled at the soft affection.
"Si—"
You gasped when his lips went further up your leg, immediately grabbing his scalp and pulling him away — a grin on his face as your frowned.
"We can't be late Simon!"
You'd remind him and he'd huff playfully, still smiling as he got up onto his feet and press a kiss on your temple.
"After the party then love?"
"Fine." You'd roll your eyes, but your frown couldn't last when he kept peppering kisses all over your face.
Sneaky bastard, knew exactly how to rile you up and then calm you down. (And he definitely got what he wanted after the party)
“‘Ello, gov’na,” You cheerfully grab the coffee pot, pouring the remnants of the caffeine into your mug. For extra affect, you tip an imaginary tophat. “Top of the mornin’ to you.” Simon gives you an unamused look, Kyle and Johnny hold back snickers, and John simply blinks.
“You should work on your accent, love,” Simon grumbled, sipping his tea. “It’s fuckin’ horrid.” Johnny wheezes at that and grasps Gaz’s chest for dramatic stability.
“Wot accent? Blimey, this is my truth!” You lean down closer to Simon and a grin slowly grows on your lips. “Did you know I’m 13 percent British?”
Krueger teaches his partner German, since Krueger is a Austrian
A/N KRUEGER IS SO UNDERRATED LIKE WHAT? (let me suck his dick)
warning: no warning, pure fluff
Krueger buried his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. He loved your scent. "You smell so good, Meine Liebe," he murmured.
"What does that mean?" you asked, rolling over in his arms to place his head onto your chest.
"It’s, uh, it means 'my love'," he replied, looking up at you with his chin resting on your chest.
"Can you teach me German? Austrian? German?" You went back and forth, unsure of the correct term.
"It’s Austrian German, close enough, hun," he chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear.
Krueger sat up and placed you in his lap, guiding your legs to wrap around his muscular waist. "Okay… how much German do you know?" he asked as he began to rock your body gently, like a parent rocking their child.
"Not much," you admitted, resting your head on his broad chest.
"Ah, okay," he nodded, falling into deep thought for a moment. He then looked back down at you. "Let's learn the basics, huh?" He patted your thigh with his left hand.
"Okay, can you say… uh… 'Meine Liebe'? What I just called you?"
"Me-Meine Liebe?" you repeated hesitantly.
"Ja, that’s it. Good job," he nodded in approval. "Now, can you say… 'Mein Hübscher'?" He gave you something a bit harder.
"Huh? Say it again?" you asked, looking up at him.
"Mein Hübscher," he repeated slowly.
"Mein Hübscher," you said, though a bit sloppily.
"Good enough," he sighed, leaning back against the headboard of the bed you shared.
"Alright, let’s learn some sentences, shall we?" He grinned at you.
"Yeah… yeah, okay," you said, finding the confidence to try and learn more.
"Ready? Can you say 'Ich liebe dich, mein Schatz'?" he prompted, tilting his head slightly.
You hesitated. "What does that mean?"
"It’s what I think about you when I see you. It means 'I love you,'" he smiled, leaning his forehead against yours.
"Okay… Ich liebe dich, mein Schatz," you said, almost perfectly but not quite.
Krueger blushed deeply and nuzzled his face into your cheek. "That’s so sweet to hear, Schatz," he patted your back. "I’m proud of you."
He continued to hold you close, your bodies swaying gently together. "Do you want to learn more?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with affection.
You nodded eagerly. "Yes, I want to learn everything."
He chuckled. "Alright, let's start with some simple phrases. 'Guten Morgen' means 'Good morning.' Can you say that?"
"Guten Morgen," you repeated, your pronunciation improving with his guidance.
"Perfect. And 'Gute Nacht' means 'Good night.'"
"Gute Nacht," you said, smiling.
Krueger's smile widened. "You're a fast learner. Soon you'll be speaking like a native."
You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his praise. "Thank you for teaching me."
"It's my pleasure, Meine Liebe," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "Now, let's rest. Tomorrow we'll continue our lessons."
You snuggled closer to him, feeling safe and loved in his arms. "G’night , Krueger."
"Gute Nacht, Schatz," he replied, kissing the top of your head.
a/n I’m pretty proud of this! I obviously used grammarly so I could make it better but I’m happy w it!
What if Feral wasn't the only one abused in their past? What if their whole family pack was toxic and abusive. What if the reason Feral is the way that they are with 141 isn't (only) cause of the abuse they grew up with, but also the guilt of having gotten away. They are constantly carrying the guilt of having left their siblings behind. They had to get out. They couldn't have survived much longer in that house. But by running away, they abandoned their pack to continue to suffer. And what if, they don't get the chance to make up for it. Cause their pack is gone now. They were the only one who made it out alive, cause they escaped. And sometimes, they wish they hadn't.
Hello !! Am I allowed to request for maybe all of 141 (If possible with your schedule !! I undestand if its not !!) or just Price and Ghost (separate) with a reader whos a military kid so theyre kinda just used to them going away for long periods of time with deployment. Bonus points if they werent aware of reader being a military kid till they break down and confess as to how abandoned and angry they feel when they leave :,)) Fluffy Hurt/Comfort thats SFW, please :)) Thank you ^^
TF141 x Gn!Reader That Was a Military Kid
Pairings: John Price x gn!reader & Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: Angst with Comfort, SFW, reader is mean, talk of parental death, crying, reader is called: sweetheart, love, dove. Hints at depression, John and Simon are both big softies for reader, established relationships. That should be it! Let me know if I missed any <3
Things to know: Some hc’s with mini fic parts. Should be Gn!reader as I tried to avoid talking about readers body or anything that could indicate anything other than gn!reader! Also POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡, Also a warning to anyone that decides to follow me- if you do not have your age in your bio or a pinned post I will block you… just a fair warning.
Notes: Thank you for requesting this anon! I loved the idea so much so I hope this does your request justice! I kinda went a little soft with the Price one because for some reason I can’t stand the thought of reader being mean to that sweet man (if you want though send me another request and I can write one that’s more angst filled 😊) although I did bring out the reader being angry in Simons. Another thing, I wrote this for Simon and not ghost but if you want I can write another one that has reader dealing with Ghost but be warned it will be angsty with lots of hurt from both parties! Sorry if the editing is bad I did try though lol and there will be more parts to this!
Tags: @homicidal-slvt (promised I’d tag you so here we are)
Price & Simon (You’re here!), Soap & Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy & König
(I will add the links as I post each part!)
John Price
-I feel like he may have wondered if you were a military kid since you didn’t seem to be phased by him having to leave so often
-There were other things that also made him wonder, like how you always made your bed in the mornings, how schedules were majorly important to you to the point that if you knew you were going to be late, you'd get majorly upset, and how you also seemed to understand military lingo up to a certain point. He never asked though since you didn’t talk about your childhood much so he just figured that if you wanted to tell him that you would
-But he started to notice that lately, you started to seem off when you found out he would have to be deployed soon.
~~
John had been awake since the early hours of the morning. He couldn't seem to get much sleep in the few days before his next deployment. He had left the warmth of your shared bed before even the morning birds could be heard outside, hoping not to wake you with his restlessness, but little did he know that you hadn't slept at all.
By the time you stumbled out of bed with bags under your eyes and your mind feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and your own brain tearing itself apart, it was well past 10 a.m., which wasn’t the most unusual for you, but on the day before John would be deploying it was a little odd since usually you were up trying to help him get his stuff together and would make a huge breakfast since you both weren’t sure how long it would be until he would get to enjoy a home-cooked meal again.
You had hoped to get to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee before seeing John, but he was standing at the fridge, putting groceries away from multiple brown paper bags.
You made your way to the coffee pot that seemed to have a fresh pot being made and got a cup from the cabinet before he started to talk, “I noticed we were getting low on some things so I thought I’d save you a trip to—,” he pauses, causing you to turn to face him, “Sweetheart?”
You were pressing your hands into your eyes, trying to relieve the aching pressure that was remaining consistent behind them, when he made his way across the kitchen and gently cupped your cheeks, “Are you feeling alright, love?”
You didn’t mean to do it, but you flinched away from his hands, taking a few steps back so that there was some distance between you both. You could see the hurt in his eyes before they were overcome with confusion and you hated that he was looking at you as if you were a skittish kitten that would run at the smallest movement.
He reaches an arm out slowly, as if to not startle you.
“Love, what’s wrong?”
You shake your head, pulling your arms tight around you, and try to focus on keeping your breathing calm, like your parents taught you when you were little.
He takes a small step forward so that his fingers are almost grazing your arm but stops when sees you curling in on yourself, “Sweetheart, something is obviously wrong. You're crying, and your body is shaking.”
“Hey,” you finally look up into his eyes, “you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but at least let me help you.”
Your heart breaks from the pain you can see in his eyes. In all the time you've been together, you’ve never pulled away from him like this. Usually, you were the one open about your emotions and what you were feeling while having to coax John into telling you what was going on in his mind, “Please, darling.”
You let yourself fall into his open arms at that point, sobbing into his neck. He presses you against his chest, gently speaking into your ear, assuring you that everything is fine, that he is here for you, and that he will always be there.
You mumble into his neck, causing him to gently pull you back so that he can hear you: “What was that, sweetheart?”
You try to concentrate on the sensation of his calm heartbeat against your chest before finally saying, "My parents promised me the same thing."
He pulls away, puzzled, and you notice him looking at you in the corner of your eye, so you burrow your face into his chest and say, "They were both military. They died when I was 14," you finish, taking a deep breath. “They were deployed together when it happened… They said that it was an accident, that my mom got stuck on a timed land mine, and my dad wouldn’t leave her no matter what.”
"Oh, love." You feel his body tense before relaxing.
He gently grips the back of your neck and pulls you back so that you're looking into his eyes; the softness in them is almost enough to send you running as far as possible so that you never have to feel the type of pain that you did the day that you found out your parents died.
“Love, I'm not going anywhere,” you go to speak but he shushes you, “You are my world, the person I’m fighting for.”
He brings his hand under your chin so that he is gripping it gently and says, “You are the reason I’m still alive. The reason why I feel like life is still worth living and fighting for.”
He tips his head down so that his lips are grazing yours, “I’ll always come home, love.”
You push forward so that your lips are fully pressing against his, then he pulls back, “Why don’t we go take a bath, get you feeling better?”
~~~~
The next morning you wake frantically looking around, hoping that he didn’t leave without saying goodbye, when he walks in carrying a tray of food, “John? I thought you had to leave this morning.”
He smiles gently, his eyes lighting up, “Called Kate, they don’t actually need me for another week, and I figured my love needs me a little bit more than my job at the moment.” He sets the tray down on the bed, and you jump into his arms with a happy squeal, “I love you, John.”
"I love you too, sweetheart," he says as he gently kisses you.
~
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley
-So we all know Simon is amazing at reading people, but I don’t think he would know that you were a military kid. He could see all the signs that you may have had a difficult childhood, but he personally knows what it’s like to have a childhood you don’t want to talk about, so he never has and never will question you about your past.
-Pasts are a hard topic for Simon in the first place, so I could honestly see him being a bit grateful that you didn’t share the bad parts of your childhood, meaning that he also didn’t have to share his. It was almost a silent agreement between you both to not talk about the negative parts of things unless one of you came to the other wanting to talk about it.
~~~~
Back to him being great at reading people: He could tell that over the past few days, your body language had been changing, becoming more standoffish. Not being as open to cuddling and kisses, not even wanting him to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you, which you usually loved.
He figured that maybe you were just having a few rough days, which was normal for anyone; hell, he knew he had them quite often, and you were always there for him no matter how bad they got, so he wanted to do the same for you.
Today had been the worst day of all, though. You were almost refusing to talk to him completely unless it was one-word answers, which he was able to roll with pretty easily. You would move rooms almost every time he would come in, not even saying anything, just picking up your things and going.
This made him decide on leaving you alone for the most part, other than when he would bring you a fresh cup of tea or was just checking in on you. So he decided on cleaning up the house a little bit, he was going to be deploying again in a week and he wanted to help however he could, knowing that it was a rough transition from having him around to it being an empty house again.
He had just finished cleaning the dishes when he looked at the time and decided on ordering out for dinner, which would hopefully raise your mood a bit and it would also be an easy enough mess to clean up. He found you in the living room watching a movie on Netflix with a blanket wrapped tightly around you and stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring you when you paused it.
When you snap at him, "What do you want, Simon?" Your eyes aren't even on him but on your phone, which is on your lap.
He feels his eye twitch but he keeps himself calm and makes sure that it shows in his tone that your attitude is leaving him unaffected, “I was just goin’ to ask what you wanted for takeout, love.”
You huff and try to pull yourself up from the couch while also trying to unwrap the blanket from around you, almost falling, but Simon rushes forward and straightens you up, but you quickly pull away.
You look at him with fury in your eyes, “Can't you just leave me the hell alone?” Your voice is rising slightly, and your face is flushed with rage. “It’s what you constantly do anyway!”
You can see Simon's eyes widen, but you don't care; the words are just spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them, "You're never actually here when I need you, but when you are, you can't take the fucking hint of when I just want you to leave me alone!"
"Sometimes Simon," you pause, feeling the tears flood into your vision, making the floor blurry, "I wonder why I even stay when you are just going to end up hurting me exactly like he did," you whisper, staring hard at the ground, your chest puffing in and out quickly, trying to pull in air after your large outburst.
The words come out in a whisper, the room becoming so silent that you can almost hear the gears in his head turning, wondering who the hell you were talking about.
You hear him take a step forward on the wood flooring, his voice incredibly soft, “Dove.”
You look up through the tears and see his hands reaching out for you, and for the first time in all the time you two have been together, Simon Riley almost looks scared—not scared of you but as if his world was coming apart.
When his hand gently touches your arm, it pulls you out of your stupor, making you pull away, frantically shaking your head, “Don’t touch me.”
The words come out shaky and broken, but they make him freeze nonetheless, and you can see in his eyes that he’s trying to pull himself together, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do in a situation like this.
He takes a small step back, his gaze fixed on yours, and he holds his hands out in front of him, as if to demonstrate that he is not a threat. "Okay, I won't touch you." He comes to a halt, seeing the fear in your eyes, the look of a frightened animal ready to flee at any moment. "It's okay, love, everything's fine-"
He doesn't even finish his sentence before you're flying down the hallway, grabbing your bag from the hooks by the front door and bolting out the door, slamming it loudly behind you, leaving him standing halfway down the hallway, his mouth slack-jawed, unsure of what the hell just happened.
~~~
After nearly ten minutes of fast walking, you finally slowed down and stopped in the nearest store to clean your face of tear marks and, hopefully, make yourself look presentable. You sent a quick text to Simon, letting him know that you were safe and that you didn't know when you'd be back. You left your phone on long enough to see him read the message and the text bubble pop up before you shut the phone completely off and tucked it into the bottom of your bag.
You spent the next two hours wandering aimlessly, wondering if you'd just ruined your relationship with the only man you'll ever love, when you came across the small Italian restaurant where Simon had taken you on your first date. You remember the way you tried to pay for your half of the dinner, but he quickly slipped his card to the waitress before you could even argue, saying something about how if you decided not to go on a second date with him, you deserved to at least get a free meal from it, and you teased him by asking him if there was a reason you shouldn't want to go on another date with him.
The memories make your stomach queasy, making you want to kick yourself in the back for being so stupid, but you walk in and order your and Simon's favorite dishes and try to keep the food as warm as possible on your walk back to your shared home. One side of you hopes you’ll find him there, not an empty house, and the other side wants to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.
You walk up the steps, and most of the house seems to be dark except for the living room, where a single light is on. You unlock the door and try as quietly as possible to slip your shoes off while also trying not to drop the food.
You make your way towards the living room to find Simon sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. You look over to the coffee table and see bags with your favorite restaurant's logo tied off, trying to keep the heat in the bags, making your heart ache with the fact that he still thought of you after you treated him like complete trash.
He was the first man ever to treat you with so much love. Even while he was deployed, he was making efforts to show you that he cared, like scheduling a delivery of your favorite flowers to show up on your day off with a little note, paying for over a month's worth of your order at your favorite coffee shop, and bringing back little trinkets from the places he was deployed too.
You knew him being deployed wasn’t his fault; it was part of his job. You knew he wasn't your dad and that it wasn't Simon’s fault that the man who was supposed to love you treated you as if you weren't even his child but rather just another one of his soldiers.
It wasn’t his fault that your dad wouldn't be home for months on end; it wasn’t his fault that the last time you ever saw your dad, you told him you hated him for never being home; it wasn't his fault that the day your dad was supposed to come home from a four-month deployment, instead of hearing him come home, there were four hard knocks on the door; it wasn't his fault that two soldiers were standing at the door; it wasn’t his fault that they were holding a folded-up flag with your dad’s military dog tags on them.
It. Wasn’t. His. Fault.
Yet you treated him as if it were. You didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't already know about what happened to your dad or the fact that you wished he did so that he could have a reason to hate you for lashing out.
You step into the room, setting the food you got by the food he ordered. “Simon?”
He doesn’t move for a second, then he looks up at you, and you feel your heart shatter for the umpteenth time tonight. “Oh, Simon,” you whisper, moving so that you’re standing in front of him and drop down onto your knees, “I am so fucking sorry. I don't even have the words to tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you… I should’ve just talked to you instead of letting it build up.”
You move your hands up to gently cradle his face in both your hands and connect your eyes with his molten ones, which usually provided you with comfort. Now, though, all you can see is the look he gave you after you yelled at him, “I— I never should have let my feelings bottle up about me being upset about you having to be gone. I know it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting myself into when we made things official all those years ago. I knew what your job would bring before then; I made the choice to be with you. I'll never regret that.’’
You move your eyes across his face, trying to gauge his emotions, but you get nothing.
“Si, baby?” you whisper.
His eyes move away from you. “Who were you talking about when you said I'm just going to hurt you like he did?’’
You look away, your eyes settling on a loose string on his pants. “I was talking about my dad.” You take a deep breath before continuing, knowing that you have to tell him, “H– He was military like you.”
His hand reaches out to gently lift your chin, bringing your gaze to his. “He died,” you continue, “He died and the last time I ever saw him, I told him I hated him because he was always gone. He…I let him go that day without saying goodbye or telling him I loved him, and the next time I saw him, his body was in a casket."
"Love," he says with a gentle frown.
"No, Simon," you say, shaking your head. Just because I’m scared—no, fucking terrified—of that happening again with you doesn't give me the right to treat you that way. I am so sorry.”
He leans back in the couch and pulls you up into his lap; once you're comfortable, he brings his hands up so that one is cupping your cheek and the other trails down your arm to hold your hand. "Dove, I know what it's like to lose family. I know what it can do to you. I understand that pain more than you know. Pain like that is unlike anything else.”
Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away quickly before they fall. "You've lost family, too?"
He nods gently, and you can see deep emotions that seemed to have been buried for a long time beginning to surface. “My mum, my younger brother Tommy, and his wife Beth.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, they are filled with unshed tears. “My nephew Joseph.”
You can feel the back of your throat starting to burn from keeping your tears in, but you push your forehead against his anyway. “Simon.”
He looks into your eyes before whispering, “I wish I could tell you it would stop hurting eventually, but I can’t. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’ll always make it back home to you; that's not something I can guarantee, but one thing I can promise is that I will always try my damn hardest to make it back. I will always fight with everything in my soul to make it back to you.”
Tears are softly running down your face at this point, falling to land on Simon’s hoodie. “I love you so much, sweets. I never want to lose you.”
You let out a choked cry before you kissed him gingerly, and you could taste the saltiness of your tears mixed in with all the flavors that reminded you of Simon. Of home.
“I love you so much too, Si.”
He leans in to kiss you again with a light press of his lips to yours before he pulls away and looks at the forgotten food on the coffee table and lets out a light chuckle, “I see we both had the same idea.”
You let out a shaky laugh and nod your head before snuggling your head into the warm crook of his neck. He runs a large hand up and down your back, slowly stopping at the bottom to rub gentle circles into a spot that usually bothers you. "Well, why don’t we eat, and maybe in the morning we can talk a little bit more.”
Yawning into his neck, you pull back and ask, “Can we finish the movie I was watching earlier? It was just getting to the good part before I stopped it.”
He nods, and you excitedly get out of his lap to get your blanket and the TV remote before he pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so that he can start opening the containers. Once you start the movie, you look over to Simon to find him already watching you with a soft look, and all you can think is how thankful you are to have found a man who loves you through all your faults and you through his.
You were grateful for ever getting the chance to be loved by Simon Riley, a man who truly believed that he couldn’t love and that he wasn’t worth loving. You knew that it would probably take your whole lives to heal from the things you've both been through, but as long as you were together, that was all that mattered.
Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this hc for Price and Simon! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. <3
Requests are open so feel free to send in some! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡
You knew how to manage your symptoms, you have since you were fourteen. Drink water, use compression socks, cane if necessary, repeat. It was a steady cycle that you used every single day—and it worked.
But today was just not your day.
You overslept, HORRIBLY. You winced when you practically tumbled out of bed. “Shit shit shit—“ You swore underneath your breath, pulling over new clothes and fighting back the overwhelming wave of dizziness. You got up way too fast. Black spots filled your vision.
You managed to somehow get on base at a decent time, maybe a few minutes after 9:00. Not bad.
You stumble towards your cubicle, sweat dripping down your forehead and huffing. A neat stack of papers met you.
This was going to be a long day.
“Hen! There y’ are!” Johnny’s boisterous voice suddenly filled the air, a large grin on his face. “Cap’ wanted meh to give these to y’,” He placed another stack of papers, more messy and less pristine than the other one.
Your smile didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Soap.” Like you needed anymore work.
You’ve been overworking yourself, Simon could tell. He had been watching you from the doorway, eyes tracking your sluggish movements. God, you were so tired.
Today was not your day.
Your thoughts trailed off when the spots in your vision returned. Your head hung heavy as you made your way back to your desk, hand outstretched to your chair. “So close—“ You murmured absentmindedly. Your water was right there, and so were your snacks. Then all would be right in the world again.
You slumped forward just as calloused hands supported you from behind, eyes fluttering. “I gotcha, I gotcha,” Simon soothed, leading you down to the floor and leaning your sitting form against the desk. He straightened your legs out and tucked your jacket underneath them. “You’re alright, lovie, just breathe,”
“Ghost?” You mumbled, eyes cracking open. His hand ran through your matted hair. “Yeah, I’m here.” He answered gruffly. “Water please.” He held the bottle up to your lips and you drank slowly.
Your eyes met his and his softened. “You overworked yourself again.” He hums, lips pursed.
“I know. I could push through it, I knew I could, but I just went too far this time—”
“Shit excuse. You and I both know that’s not how it works.”
You let out a soft snort. “Damn. And here I thought I could get away with it.” You snapped your fingers, a slow and tired smile gracing your face.
“Little shit.” Simon shook his head. His eyes stay on yours before looking away. “Take better care of yourself, love. We only got one of you.”
