Thinking about Simon liking bugs n’keeping a little homemade terrarium, it looks great and professional. Lilys have started to multiply on the pond and the lizards often sunbathe on top of the nice log in there.
But once a week Simon has to do maintenance. Restock their food, clean out the water. Make sure the mist maker isn’t clogged again.
And when you walk in on him changing out the filter there’s a little bug on his other hand. Beatle, the one with the choppers.
And you love your boyfriend so you inquire about his interests.
“Having fun?”
Simon hums.
Looking over his shoulder you can see that if his terrarium really wanted to it could sustain itself, maybe only need cleaning every two months instead of every week.
“Why do you clean it so often?”
“Gives me something to do.”
Now you hum.
Sitting down next to him just because quality time is Simon’s love language. You watch the Beatle crawl all around his hand, the thought of it crawling on you has a shiver running up your back.
“Wanna closer look?”
Simons hand jumps out to you and swiftly you lean away.
“Oh— no, that’s okay.”
“It won’t bite.”
Simon brings it even closer, as if trying to transfer it into your hand, but you lean even further back. Tense.
For a moment Simon stares. Looking into your own two eyes before a half smirk plays on his face.
“Are you scared?”
“Scared? It’s just a bug Simon.”
“Stag Beatle”
“It’s just a stag Beatle.”
The silence is tense. But the truth is yeah it is a little scary. What if the bug with all its tiny legs went up into your shirt, or what if your hand was full of tiny diseases and the bug suddenly dies. Or— and this is the worse one.
What if it falls and you suddenly crush it? Simon would be ruined, distraught. You never want anything to happen to his bug bug. (Yes that’s what he named the stag Beatle)
“Please Simon. I’m okay.”
Simon shrugs and places the Beatle back into its home, it crawls away promptly after. After sealing everything up tight the mist in the terrarium turns on. And the way the small water particles fall down slowly is mesmerizing.
When a new problem hybrid is brought to the rehab center, you're called in from medical leave. Having been through hell he's classed as dangerous but you believe he deserves a chance. Hopefully you both can heal each other without adding to old wounds.
I dedicate this story to @kiwiimochi because they said they'd be interested in a story like this. I hope you enjoy and you're welcome to tell me what you think.
Content: hybrid AU, brief description of wounds, allusions to torture
The call comes through in the middle of the night, ripping you from deep slumber that for once was peaceful.
You wake with a gasp, heart immediately racing to outrun the invisible danger. It takes you a few seconds to blink the last remnants of sleep from your eyes. You’re at home, in your bed. There is no danger around, except the phone that rings impatiently in your bedside drawer.
You recognize the ringtone. It’s your work phone, which hasn’t rung in weeks even though you always keep it on and charged. It’s slightly unsettling to hear it ring at such an ungodly hour. It’s freeing too, to realize that your heart slowly calms down and you do not spiral into a panic attack.
Yawning your reach into the drawer and open it, getting the angrily vibrating phone and hold it up to your ear.
“Hello?”
“We need you here.”
You’re stunned into silence. Everyone knows you’re on medical leave. They should know better than to call you in randomly during the night. They -
“Like right now.” You recognize Elizabeth’s voice and your heartrate skyrockets again.
“Liz, you know that I’m on leave. You know wh-“
“They want to put him down.” Her voice interrupts you, full of urgency.
That has you sitting bolt upright. Putting down hybrids has been illegal for years now and the center mostly adheres to those laws. Mostly, not always and when they don’t they usually have a damn good reason not to.
Working at a government managed rehabilitation center for hybrids meant that sometimes they put their decisions above the law.
You’re already out the bed and stumbling around the room while trying to get dressed one handed.
“I’m coming. Anything I should know?”
You tuck the phone between your shoulder and your ear so you can use both hands to pull on your pants. The short pause strains your nerves. She wouldn’t have called you if the others could handle whatever was happening.
“Liz?” You prompt her.
“Belgian Malinois hybrid. Military. They found him after he was MIA for moths. Severely malnourished, signs of torture all over him. No idea how they managed to get him into a chopper and bring him here, but he is here.” She rattles down and if you didn’t know her better you’d think that she doesn’t care. But you do know her better. Staying professional helps her not to break down with cases like this.
Hectically you tuck a shirt over your head, gather your things and basically run out the door. When you started working at the center you moved as close as possible to your new workplace and because you were lucky that meant living just down the street.
Running along the sidewalk you urge her on. “What more, Liz. I need everything you can give me.”
The silence speaks volumes. She hesitates, then goes on.
“He attacked and killed one of the soldiers that brought him here. They sedated him but said if no one wants to work with him, they have to put him down. I’ve seen hybrids go animal before but not like this.”
You grit your teeth at that. You hated the term ‘going animal’ even if it was a widely accepted term when working with hybrids. Just because they we’re genetically part animal didn’t mean, that them going berserk was less human that an ordinary person losing it.
And if what she told you was true, he had more than enough reason to lose his marbles.
Before you can ask another question you reach the fence of the rehab compound and to your surprise Liz is there, already opening the door for you so you won’t have to use your access card. You end the call and pocket your phone when you approach her.
“I want to say it’s good to have you back but the circumstances make the whole thing slightly less cheery.” She greets you and then engulfs you in a heartfelt hug.
Damn, you missed her. Liz didn’t work with the hybrids as a handler. She was part of the office team but she was one of your favorite coworkers here. Liz got shit done while taking none and still she was the nicest, sweetest person around.
You nod, returning her hug. Then you breathe deeply, preparing yourself to actually step foot into the facility again. The very reason why you were on medical leave in the first place. It doesn’t feel as bad as you feared but you’re not sure how you will react to the hybrid.
“Where is he? What’s his name?”
Liz sighs deeply. “He’s in the cell. The others refused to work with him when they heard the details from the soldiers. Honestly, I don’t blame them but I thought it was worth calling you.”
You nod grimly and let her lead the way. The facility worked with aggressive hybrids a lot. Problematic cases were nothing new. But one who had murdered mere hours ago was new territory. You’re not sure this is the best decision.
Was this the kind of case you were ready to come back for? After what happened? This had the potential to ruin any progress you had made during your leave.
No. You couldn’t let him be put down just because you were scared. He deserved a chance and if all the others were too worried then you’d give him the chance. Even if it might cost you the stability you’d gained back.
Liz comes to a halt before the cell and turns to you. Her hands clasp onto your shoulders, looking at you through her glasses.
“Thank you for trying.” She hesitates briefly. “Don’t destroy yourself over it though. If he’s lost, he’s lost. You can’t save everyone.”
Her words make your throat tighten and swallowing seems like an impossible feat. You nod, despite the unease bubbling up in you.
He’s a person, you remind yourself. It’s not like you’re meeting a wild animal.
Finally you turn to look through the small window into the cell. The large hybrid nearly steals your breath. He’s still unconscious, lying on the mattress at the far end of the otherwise unfurnished cold cell. The dark pointed ears that peek out of his shaggy hair twitch every now and then.
“His name?” You ask again, your voice a whisper, even though you’re not entirely sure why you feel the need to quiet down.
He is dirty beyond belief; his hair unkempt and you can make out a slight beard on his strong jaw through the bars of his muzzle. You grind your teeth at the sight of it. Using muzzles of that type on hybrids has also been forbidden and you wonder if they found him like this or put it on him.
The fact that he doesn’t wear a shirt, only ripped and sullied pants, grants you an unobstructed view of his torso. There are various wounds in different phases of healing and his ribs are overly visible beneath his skin.
The twin wounds on his left draw your eyes. They seem almost circular and are located between his ribs. Already crusted over messily they seem to not be the newest ones; still you shudder with how painful they look. Over the ribs that lay between those wounds the skin is blackish blue and bruised.
You decide to not look closely at his other wounds as to not make you feel shakier than you already do. Instead you look at his face again. That too is covered in shallow cuts but those do not make your insides want to turn over.
His hair seems to be a deep, dark brown, matching the ears and you wonder how he’ll look, once he’s clean and not on the brink of starvation. Liz’ voice interrupts your thoughts.
“Simon Riley. Lieutenant.”
You both know rank means almost nothing when it comes to hybrids but you don’t comment on the information. You’re about to ask something else when he starts stirring and you hold your breath. Even though you’re outside you feel the tension rise along with his consciousness from the artificial sleep.
Two figures, that were obstructed from view before because they stood so close to the wall, step forward. Soldiers, you realize and they have their weapons trained on the slowly waking hybrid. On Simon.
As soon as he’s halfway conscious he scrambles to his feet, slightly swaying in his spot. He tries to bring his arms to the front but they seem to be tied behind his back. His tail grows stiff behind him, the ears tilt back and his upper lip curls into a snarl revealing his canines while his eyes fixate on the soldiers.
You can hear his deep resounding growl through the door and everything in you wants to run. This is a military hybrid, all right. Everything about him is big and intimidating, the aggression rolling off of him in waves along with the resounding growl.
Instead of running you set your shoulders and breathe deeply. “Let me inside and get the soldiers out.” You say a lot more confidently than you feel. Evidently their way of handling him is not working.
Liz raises her eyebrows but communicates with the guards inside. Slowly they back towards the door, keeping their guns pointed at the hybrid while Liz unlocks the door. Quicker than you can comprehend you changed positions with one of the guards, the other staying with his gun still pointing at Simon.
“”Out.” You command. You wish your body was as unwavering as your voice but you can feel a subtle shaking start in your legs.
The soldier seems conflicted but Elizabeth keeps the door open and he backs out too. Everyone at the center knows that working with hybrids comes with a lot of risks. If this goes south all you’ll be is a small stack of papers on Liz’ desk, waiting to be signed. And maybe a body to be buried.
You’re alone with him now, the heavy door closing behind you and the hostility rolling off Simon nearly suffocates you. His eyes are now fixed solely on you and he seems to be weighing his options, every muscle in his body coiled tight, ready to attack you.
You pray that he doesn’t.
You study him for a moment longer and you see the sheen on sweat that appears on his skin. This is not only aggression. He’s scared. Scared of you and somehow the fear being mutual calms you down. This hybrid must have been through hell and now he woke in a strange room after forcefully being sedated. You’d be scared shitless too and growl at people.
“Hello.”
You hold the eye contact and the way his ears perk forward for a second before going back again would be adorable in any other situation. The growl stutters before returning stronger than before. He reacted to being spoken to. Liz’ had exaggerated, maybe they’d misinterpreted him, because this hybrid was not on a murder spree.
Yet he’d killed earlier, you have to remind yourself. Just because you were a softie didn’t mean he’d spare you.
Slowly you raise your hands. “I’m just going to sit down, here. Do you know where you are?”
You can see the confusion on his face at the fact you talk to him and you mentally curse the soldiers that brought him in. Despite his display being more animalistic than human he is still a person before all else. How come they hadn't had the common sense to talk to him?
His keen eyes don’t miss even one of your movements as you settle down and cross your legs.
“You were found just north of the border in Texas.” It’s difficult to keep your voice as soft as possible with the way your throat is so tight. For a second you hate yourself because you’re thankful that he is muzzled and his arms are restrained.
Then you remind yourself that he is not Phillip and despite what Liz told you, you will judge him based on his behavior not on the stories. Like you should have with Phillip.
Something about what you said makes his ears perk up. He’s still careful but the previous stifling aggression is gone. Once again you try to suppress your anger at the soldiers not talking to him. This isn’t nearly as bad as they made it out to be.
“They brought you to a rehabilitation facility for hybrids that work with the authorities or the military. You might have heard of it before. It’s called “Rehybrid” which is a stupid name if you ask me but I wasn’t born when they decided on that so…”
Now he cocks his head at you and you try to keep from smiling. You know you’re rambling but it seems to help so you keep going.
“Not everyone is gifted in name giving.” Without much of a pause and consciously casually you continue on. “Mind if I take the handcuffs off of you?”
That makes him stiffen, reflexively his lip curls up again a small growl starting up. Of course he doesn’t trust you. But you’re also very aware of how unfair it is to have him shackled and muzzled when he feels threatened already.
“I know. I wouldn’t want anyone near me too if I were in your position but I think it would only be fair.” You’re very aware of the fact, that Liz, and the soldiers probably too, are watching through the window, most definitely thinking you’ve lost your mind.
Simon shakes his head and even if it is disappointing it makes you feel incredible that he interacted with what you said. Your chest expands and you suddenly feel like a big boulder lifted off your shoulders. That’s a good start.
“It’s okay, I won’t do it then. Just give me a sign when you’re ready.”
Once again you briefly glance at the state his body is in and you slightly wince. Yeah, maybe you would have to press a little harder.
“Listen. I really want to give you the time and space but I think your wounds and your body are on slightly tighter schedule than I am. I won’t force you but I don’t want you dying on me.”
His eyes widen at that and in that moment you’d pay to know what he’s thinking. It’s interesting to watch him as he seems to mentally take note of his body. He nods at you and you breathe a sigh of relief.
“Take the cuffs off?”, you ask again just to be sure. Simon nods again.
Keeping it slow and easily predictable you stand up again and raise your hand to the latch in the door, opening it and sticking your hand through it. If Liz and the soldiers listened, they’ll give you the key, hopefully.
For a few agonizingly long heartbeats nothing happens, then a key is dropped into the palm of your hand and you close the latch again.
“I’m going to take a step towards you and then you can come to me. Sound good?”
Simon nods again and you take the step. His body tenses but then he crosses the small space and turns his back to you. His chest is heaving and his back is damp with cold sweat. It’s almost unnerving the way he has his head tilted as far to the side as possible, watching you out of the corner of his wide eye. If you make one wrong move he could still easily put you on the ground.
This close you can smell him and the stench coming off of him almost makes you gag. You try to breathe through your mouth at the smell of something rotten assaulting your nose. There's also the underlying smell of piss and filth along with other scents you can't identify. You concentrate on the task at hand in order not to imagine what might have happened to him.
Trying not to stress him out more, you talk him through the short process of taking off the handcuffs. His fast breathing makes you slightly worried that he’ll hyperventilate.
The moments the cuffs are on the floor he’s on the other side of the room again and his hands are tearing at the muzzle on his head. His fingers are frantic and a nail on his already damaged hands breaks, a little bit of blood welling up.
“Wait, please!” You call out desperately but his movements only grow more hectic. The muzzle he has on is designed so the hybrid is unable to take it off without seriously injuring themselves. His nimble fingers flit all over the piece, grabbing and tugging until he decides to just start pushing it upwards off his face.
Immediately the metal cuts into his cheeks and you know he’ll do it anyway. He doesn’t care about cutting his skin in the process. Panic swells in your chest at the thought of him shredding his face just to be muzzle free.
“Please, Simon, Stop!” You say desperately in a last attempt before he pulls it off his face. Against everything you expected he freezes, eyes going wide.
“Simon, that’s your name, right?”, you question your hands outstretched as if you could keep him from hurting himself further by sheer force of will.
You’re shaking and you know he can see it. Swallowing is almost painful. “Please don’t hurt yourself, I’ll take it off of you but please stop hurting yourself.”
His eyes narrow but this time he hesitates less before nodding and stepping towards you. God he is big. You’re all too aware of how incredibly vulnerable you are right now. He could probably rip you apart with his bare hands if he wanted to.
He’s a fully trained soldier and you… you’re just an ordinary person who helps hybrids to get back on their feet. You specifically chose this line of work because you’re soft and stupidly selfless. Using those traits for work seemed like a good option to turn them into strengths.
Now you’re all too aware of how little your softness would guard you against Simon’s brute strength. Even on the brink of starvation the fact that he’s a weapon remains.
Achingly slow your hands reach up to the muzzle, feeling along it for the mechanism to unlock. His eyes stare into yours and this close you can see that they’re the color of dark honey. Nothing about the expression in them is sweet though and you have to consciously swallow against the lump forming in your throat.
You unlock the mechanism and Simon stays in your personal space for a second longer. You don’t break the eye contact and slowly he moves backwards until there is enough room to breathe between you two again.
He flexes his jaw for a moment to test it and this time you smile. His eyes narrow at that but you don’t let it deter you.
Until now he hasn’t made a move to hurt you and you decide to introduce yourself. When you tell him your name he still doesn’t answer but he’s attentive and you think that maybe it will be fine after all.
allistic simon x autistic reader was just so heartwarming and relatable to read as i’m someone with the tism that often feels like a burden on others. it was so lovely, feeling like simon didn’t want to change the reader as a person or expect anything unreasonable of them, but rather accommodate them where he can. i also liked that he didn’t have to compromise himself and was able to do an activity he likes, but also care for reader! all around just really enjoyed the piece.
if i may, i’d love to request something where one of the reader’s safe foods/essential items is out of stock or being discontinued and how simon would help them navigate that situation. one of my fave essentials just got discontinued and i’m devastated lol ♥︎
hi there! i'm very happy that you enjoyed my first autistic reader piece. i'm sorry that your safe food is out of stock ): i get fairly frustrated when i can't have access to things that comfort me. i apologize in advanced for the subpar writing that will ensue this message.
allistic simon x autistic!reader: crisis averted
in which your lovely husband attempts to help you navigate the sudden unavailability of your safe food.
simon came back from his meeting on base a bit winded and more confused than when he'd originally left the home. the meeting was a cooperative planning session involving KorTac, and your husband failed to keep up with the newly-introduced objectives and profiles. his head hurt, frankly. the entire meeting he'd only been wondering what you'd been up to and if you missed him. when he finally entered your shared home, he was relieved to have the workday slide right off his broad, strong shoulders.
simon hummed as he heard the tapping of your PC keyboard, knowing you'd likely well into a deep dive of one of your special interests. he took off his boots by the door and calmly took steps toward the study, whistling as he walked. his eyes fell upon you in the throws of your own world of wonder, irises blown as you took in the information before you. Simon cleared his throat to grab your attention, and you peeled yourself away briefly to greet him. ,"hey Si," you hummed back distractedly, and your husband chuckled in response. "hi lovie," he grinned at you, moving to stand beside you and take in the media you were consuming. he stands there for a moment, enjoying your company, before he decides to trek to the kitchen for a snack.
simon peers around the area for signs of your appetite, signs that you had been feeding yourself and staying hydrated. he was met with an empty sink and dishwasher, and the items in the fridge looked untouched. the water filter was exactly as full as when he left this morning. he sighed, shaking his head before a lightbulb went off. maybe we're out of [food item]. that could do it, he thinks to himself, treking to the pantry to confirm the item was missing. he padded back into the study to greet you again, politely asking for your attention.
when you spin around to see a frowning Simon you instinctively feel puzzled, and of course Simon can tell by the way you stare at him blankly. "lovie, you didn't eat today?" he's soft when he speaks to you, ensuring that you don't feel scolded or punished. Your lover has been so understanding of your mannerisms, fully aware that your appetite was fickle and sometimes undetectable. you shook your head in response, words lost on you as you tried to recall your last meal. "there's no food item so I can't really eat right now," you responded cooly, and Simon nods his head in response. usually he'd kept up with the supply of your items, and he was honestly quite shocked that this wasn't upsetting you as much as he'd always imagined it would. he didn't want to press the issue, but he was mildly concerned that you may be pressing it down. "why didn't you say anything, are you not upset?" the question slides over your head, and you direct your attention back to the media in front of you. " 've been busy today," you respond as your eyes focus again on the screen. Simon sighs again, turning on his heels and heading to the bedroom for a change of clothes. he knew he'd be heading to the store now, or helping you through a meltdown later.
Simon had read up quite a bit on the fickle nature of meltdowns, and he was well versed in how unpredictable they may be. he'd listened to numerous autistic media creators mention their experience in reference to valves. when the 'special interest' tank was where you needed it, and your 'manual labor' valve was at a minimum, then that allowed for things like social interaction or emotional regulation. when you had no time to yourself and no time for the things that keep you happy, your mask began to slip and 'smaller' things that you normally coped with began to feel a lot heavier and less manageable. he knew that your special interest tank currently filled your cup to the brim, allowing you to ignore the constant discomfort of hunger and dehydration. he also knew that should this hunger persist it may heighten other, seemingly less significant, senses and experiences and he'd find himself well into meltdown territory. the longer he waited for you to notice your hunger, the more likely dysregulation would occur.
at the store, Simon's breath is stolen from him. the damned item was out of stock. he haggled a store employee, begging them to check their inventory again, but they'd been completely out of it. Simon found himself driving all over the city in search of this item, but he found nothing. at the fifth store he felt defeated, and he decided to search for the item online. to his dismay, it'd been discontinued. there was a pit in your husband's stomach at the information. to Simon's surprise, it seemed that his lovely spouse's support of this item hadn't been enough to singlehandedly keep the item in service. he scoffed as he thumbed through the list of items he knew you liked, all of which seeming a reach to coax you into eating.
Simon drives the 45 minutes back to the home, and you're pacing in the living room with your headphones on. Simon doesn't even have to ask, he knows you've overdone yourself with the screens and now your head hurts and your ears hurt; your ears always hurt when you're overstimulated. No matter how much you loved [special interest], you still found yourself overwhelmed if you indulged for too long.
you turn the music down at the sight of your husband in the doorway, waiting for him to speak. "Lovie, it seems that item has been discontinued." The words take a moment to be processed, but you fail to hide the disgust and frustration you feel about the information. you feel your chest getting tight, and the music doesn't feel loud enough. "i know this is difficult but-" 'How could we not notice it was discontinued? Why didn't i pay attention! It can't be! I don't want that. I don't want it." you began to cry, frustration coursing through you as your ears began to sting. You'd tried so hard to do better, to feel better for Simon, but now you felt helpless. Your brain began to eat away at you, blaming you for not keeping up with your own foods and snacks. Your pacing continues as you find yourself striking your chest repeatedly, trying to dull the pain of the situation. your mind felt like it was melting, and the tears continued.
Simon steps to you slowly, striking his own chest lightly and he nears your smaller frame. he slowly reaches his arms out beside him, allowing you to walk into his chest. his arms remain at his sides, and he allows the painful stimming to be transferred to his chest. your strikes feel nothing close to anything he'd truly suffered, and he hoped this would help you make it through this world-shattering time. he stands there for as long as you need him to, fully prepared for this to last several hours. the tears stain his shirt as you sniffle and sob, strikes getting lighter and lighter. you cry so much it leaves you dizzy, and your arms slowly reach out to simon's to wrap them around your frame. you give him two taps to let him know that you'd like to be squeezed, and he does so without complaint.
"You're safe, lovie. I'm sure this is very frustrating, so how about we order that Chinese food place you like. I know it's not safe food but it will feed you. I even have the exact order from last time, hm?" you offer him another two taps as confirmation, and he smiles.
Once you begin to come down from your meltdown, Simon is sure to help you change into your favorite pajamas and wraps you in your compression blanket. you two spend the evening in your bed watching your comfort show and eating takeout.
an: i hope this as comforting for you as it was for me while writing. simon would be such a loving and comforting partner, and I deeply believe he'd study you and learn you so well that he can help. if anyone you love is having a meltdown, try to remove any extra emotional or cognitive labor for them.
Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 7 whooohooow. We get the cofee date and more conversation! Yay
Also I'm dead tired, going straight to sleep after posting this forgive any spelling mistakes. Also please point it out to me if I messed up the description of the reader anywhere. I promise that's just because these are horribly self indulgend and I might slip up and put parts of me in there. But I wanna keep these as neutral and inclusive as possible because we all deserve to be self indulgend with these. Love you all!
< Part 6 | COD Masterlist | Part 8
Simon’s running late and he‘s cursing himself when he opens the door of the café he’s supposed to meet you at (he’s so glad you didn’t tell him to meet up at Johnny’s bakery, he wouldn’t have survived that).
He’s not even sure why he’s late and he’s glad Price doesn’t know about it, the old man would give him hell for not being on time, especially when it means making lovely little you wait. God, he can't believe he's making you wait, his chest tightening up slightly. What if you already left?
As soon as he steps in, he spots you and has to take a second to take the scene in. The café is cute and cozy; you’re nestled into a booth at the back anxiously watching the sidewalk through the window, your mutt laying by your feet. You’re probably looking for him and that makes him hastily walk towards your table. He really wants to kick himself for being late. Way to go and show you how important this is to him.
When you hear him approach you look up and your dog sits up, eyeing him. Your eyes are big and you look like you didn’t expect him to show up at all. Honestly you look like a deer caught in the headlights, like one wrong move might make you bolt (he really needs to tame you, put a collar on you so you won’t run).
Your expression makes Simon want to crumple to his knees so he might beg for forgiveness. His chest is slightly heaving from his race against time and you raise your hand in an awkward little wave.
“Hi…”, you say and hearing your lovely voice immediately makes his heart speed up.
“Hi, sweetheart. So sorry for being late.”, he apologizes and extends his hand for your dog to sniff. The beast recognizes him and deems him harmless, so he pulls out a chair for himself opposite of you. You already have a drink in front of you and you self-consciously stir the apparently empty cup (god, you’re adorable in your nervousness).
“It’s fine. I’m sorry I ordered already, wasn’t sure you were gonna show up.”, you admit quietly, eyes downcast looking at your drink. Simon’s heart breaks. He wants to cover your hand with his and tell you that nothing could keep him from showing up for you even if it means crawling from another grave.
Instead he starts taking off his jacket and says: “I’d never stand you up, sweetheart.”
That makes your eyes snap up to his and he feels his traitorous heart stumble over the next beat. A smile appears on your lips and he forgets what else he wanted to say when your gaze lands on his newly exposed forearms. Your eyebrows slightly lift seeing his tattoos.
Simon’s just about to grow worried that you don’t like tattoos (shit... maybe he should get a laser removal?) when he catches you biting your lips. This time it’s clearly not nervousness.
He’d never admit it but maybe he deliberately flexes his hands and makes a show of getting comfortable without his jacket until your attention is ripped away from him by a waiter asking for your orders (he could seriously knock the poor sod out for that).
When Simon looks at you again your eyes are on his face, your brows slightly furrowed and you cock your head (that would be the perfect angle for him to press his lips to yours). Suddenly he realizes that you’ve never seen him outside of the shop and you’re probably put off by the mask.
“You can ask.”, his voice is gruff and curt and he curses himself. He couldn’t have sounded more uninviting. This is just perfect, at this rate you'll end up leaving before you get your second drink.
“So… I assumed the mask was a hygiene thing but…”, you vaguely gesture to his face. “… evidently it’s not. May I ask why you’re wearing it?”
He barely suppresses a chuckle. Seems like you’re not as reserved as he thought. The pairing of your openness with your timid and shy demeanor makes for an interesting mix.
He finds himself appreciating your directness, something he hadn’t anticipated from you. Then again this date is for you to get to know him and decide whether he’s worthy of being in your presence again (apart from just buying meat).
“’s a habit from my military time. Now it feels odd to go without it.”, he explains simply. He doesn’t see any reason to be dishonest with you. He wants to get to know all of you, uncover all your secrets and hidden parts. If you find him interesting enough to ask about him too, who is he to deny a deity the knowledge about their worshipper?
You nod slowly, scrutinizing him. The next smile you send him is crooked and a bit apologetic. “Doesn’t make it all that much easier to trust you.”, you say.
“And seeing me would? What more would my face tell you?”, he genuinely questions.
That makes you pause for a second and he decides to go on. “People hide intentions behind expressions all the time. Now I might hide my expression but never my intentions.”
Instead of answering directly you look down at your dog.
“Well, Wraith likes you, which really already tells me a lot.”, you say and Simon nearly raises his fist in victory (he’s glad he didn’t forget to put some treats in his pocket).
Wait… “Wraith?”, he nearly chokes on his own spit when he repeats your dog’s name in question. Even after all this time he never asked for the name and never got a good look at his name tag.
Wraith…. a ghost. A ghost!
Your expression turns soft. Simon wishes you’d look at him like that. He’d happily lay on the floor by your feet if it would mean you’d look at him like that. “Yeah… Wraith.”
He watches you in rapt attention when you continue: “I just…”, you chuckle self-consciously. “I never found the idea of ghosts intimidating. And the idea of one of them appearing to you before or after death always sounded more like a guide or companion than horror and fear. Which is kind of what Wraith here is. Most people look at him and find him intimidating, they’re scared, when actually he’s the sweetest, purest pup and best companion anyone could ask for.”
Simon barely keeps from looking at Wraith again. To look for whatever you see in the ugly fucking dog. He’s glad he keeps his attention on you, because you look up, the slightest hint of embarassment on your face, the expression so adorable he feels like fainting (would you look at him like that if he called you his good little lovie?).
“I… sorry it’s silly…”
“It’s not.” Fuck why does his voice sound so raspy. “I like it. Appreciate you tellin’ me”, he quickly adds battling down the sudden urge to tell you about his own Ghost. He consciously keeps his hands from reaching for his mask and running over the skull print.
“I’ve always been afraid of ghosts.”, he admits and your eyes widen incredulously.
“You? You look like ghosts should be afraid of you, not the other way around.”, you blurt and he can already sense the oncoming apology so he makes sure he’s quicker.
“Thank you, lovie. That’s very flattering of you. Not sure how much these…”, and he flexes his biceps obnoxiously for you. “.. would do against incorporeal entities.” (Oh fuck was that weird? He was going for a joke but fuck that was weird wasn’t it? Shitshitshitshit you’re gonna think he’s one of those airheaded only brawn guys)
Simon’s about slap himself when you snort, cover your mouth and giggle, the sound settling warm in his stomach.
Then you seriously nod at him. “Don’t worry, big guy, I’ll protect you from ghosts. They might slip right through your big beefy arms but they’ll miss mine.” You flex your arms too and Simon bites back a grin when he's reminded of how much smaller you are than him. “Thin like trip wire, they won’t know what hit them. Literally.”
He chuckles, earnestly and from deep in his belly, and you grin at him, evidently more at ease. When you settle more comfortably in your chair, not as tightly coiled anymore like you might need to jump into action at any moment, Simon can’t help the protectiveness flaring in his chest. You’re too precious for your own good.
But you don’t need to worry anymore, especially not around him. He'll keep you safe.
Read the Modern Warfare: Ghost comics yesterday and they poked my brain in some spots. They inspired this, because yes Simon sexy; big man makes brain go brrr but what if Simon says no?
Warnings: heated make out session, not proofread and it's late so it sucks
Simon moans under you as you kiss him, the sound making your body ache with need. It echoes in your ribcage making your heart flutter and frantically beat against your ribs, trying to get to Simon.
Your bodies are pressed against each other and you already feel lightheaded when you haven't even taken your clothes off.
But Simon is shirtless and all that skin under your hands drives you insane while you're making out. Tongues lazily intertwining, rubbing together, creating that delicious friction that makes you pant.
Simons pupils are blown wide as he looks up at you on his lap. You can feel how affected he is by you as well and it increases your desire tenfold.
You think you'll go crazy if you don't get the clothes separating you two out of the way. Your entire body is calling out to the man under you and you need to do something about it before you lose your mind.
Slowly you move your hand over his pecs, dipping your head to follow that path with your lips and tongue, marking his skin while you're at it.
Simon makes a sound that's half a whimper, half a moan and it makes you bite down on his pec which in turn gets an actual whimper out of him.
You look up at him and he's thrown his head back, watching you through almost closed eyes, burning you with his desire.
His chest is heaving and his harsh pants of air are actually audible. You have never seen him so wrecked before and you can't wait to ruin him when he moans your name. And your hips twitch in response.
Th reaction only seems to fuel his desire more and he bites his lip trying to stifle the sounds he's making.
Your hand continues its path down his tummy towards his pants where your reward awaits. Your heart speeds up as you get to his waistband.
It's such a tiny moment you would have missed it if you were less aware of every single movement of Simon.
Just for a second he goes stiff and then relaxes again.
Your hand stills. Your eyes trail up from his crotch again to meet his eyes. There's a tightness around his mouth that doesn't sit well with you.
He's the picture of relaxation, but it's not real anymore. His eyes are wide open, you can see the muscles in his arms flex, even as he keeps them down, seemingly open and relaxed.
You sit back on his thighs, ceasing all other movement.
"Tell me, baby.", you gently encourage.
Simon shakily exhales, puts his hand over yours, that's still sitting just over his waistband and moves your hand back up to his chest.
You can feel his heart hammering under your palm and it doesn't feel like desire anymore. It feels like a hectic little animal being chased. It feels like anxiety and slight panic.
He stays quiet, not moving a muscle and you match him, gently stroking your thumb over his skin, scooting closer again, so you're not half bent over from where you tried to get to his zipper.
"I don't... I'm sorry, 'luv.", he whispers roughly and you smile. A sad smile but it's gentle and you can feel Simons heart slow down under your palm at your smile.
"It's okay. No need to apologize."
His other hand finds your neck and he draws you in until your foreheads touch and you can feel his shaky breath on your lips.
One of your hands mimics his, while the other one stays on his chest, his skin warm and scarred against yours.
Gently you squeeze the back of his neck. "We're okay." You whisper and you can feel him finally relax again.
You know there's so much he probably feels like saying but as he so often does he lets the silence speak for him.
Luckily you've gotten fluent in Simon's silence over the time.
"I don't care, baby. I only care about you being here with me. My needs can be taken care of in other ways. We don't need that to be close. We've got our own ways."
Instead of answering, he kisses you again and you arch your back so all of you is pressed to him.
It has nothing of the desperation of earlier even if the heat is still simmering deep in your belly.
It's all comfort and closeness now.
He cups your face, as if you're the most precious thing he's ever held and you smile into the kiss.
"How can you be so... so... good?", he asks. If you didn't know him as well as you did you would have missed the way his voice sounds slightly choked up.
"I love you.", is your simple answer and he shakes his head.
"I don't get it. Why are you not sick o' me? Why haven't ya found someone who can do normal shit."
You smile, peck his lips and try to pull back, which turns into him holding you close and deepening the kiss before you attempt to pull back again. He doesn't let you and you grin into the kiss. Finally he lets you go, both of you laughing quietly.
"I will never be sick of you. I don't need anything but you. And you are enough, exactly as you are, right now in this moment. You've always been enough."
You can see his eyes widen as your words hit him, his hands find your hips and hike you up a bit more and then he hides his face in your chest, his arms around you, chrushing you to him
If the way his fingers dig into your skin is slightly painful you don't comment on it. You bring your arms up and hold him just as tightly.
Simon has a bad dream about you, it's not specified what he dreams but if you read the comics, you'll know what I'm referring to....
Simon looks at you, devastation is his eyes and when you try to touch him he draws back.
"I dreamt of you.", he rasps and it makes something in you squirm uncomfortably. Evidently it was not a good dream.
"What happened Simon.", you ask carefully. He sighs and looks to the ceiling but you still catch a glimpse of the way his eyes are glassy and wet.
"Lovie, I...", his voice breaks and he looks at you wet eyes begging you to help him. "I did things to you. Horrible horrible unimaginable things. I... what the fuck.", he whispers and you see the first tear fall.
You knew Simon struggled with violent thoughts and fantasies. The only blessing he was given was that they had never included you.
You eyes find his and you're face is nothing but pure love. "It's okay, Simon. It was just a dream."
He shakes his head. "How can my brain even think of something like that. The usual thoughts and dreams are bad enough but you?! I would never do that to you."
When you hear the shattering guilt in his voice you step into his space and wrap your arms around him. He doesn't return the gesture but he allows you to hold him, which is a good sign.
"Exactly, darling. Human brains come up with fucked up shit a lot. Having those thoughts does not make you a bad person. Acting out those thoughts would make you a bad person. But instead you choose the opposite.", you soothe and he finally wraps his arms around you as well, hiding his face against you.
"There you go, Simon. I've got you. You choose to be soft with me, even if you have violent thoughts, and that is who you are. Your thoughts don't define you, your actions do."
He exhales shudderingly and cradles you in his arms, as if you'd break if he moved wrong. Soaking up your gentleness like it's the only thing keeping him alive.
