Sunlightandprayers

Me after reading the most profane, toe curling, mind blowing smut known to man in the middle of class because I was bored

childhoodbsf!simon who eventually turns into fwb!simon and inevitably breaks your heart.

warnings : angst(y), mentions of sex but not very detailed, written on iPhone and not proofread

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it happened so naturally.

ever since that blond-haired boy moved across the street from you, and helped you draw a princess maze with pink chalk on the asphalt of the quiet street.

ever since you’d giggled as he dragged you to the little forest at the back of your yard—offering you an entire-day adventure and granting him a respite from the smothering walls of his house.

ever since he’d decided to call you sunshine, because that’s simply what you were to him. his sacred light in the dark storm cloud of his childhood.

ever since then, simon riley had become your very best friend. platonic soulmates, you’d called it.

⸝⸝

it had stuck for a while.

until college and the military rolled around, and suddenly your eyes were yearning for him nearly as often as your fragile heart.

suddenly, it didn’t feel so platonic.

there was still this easiness, that was undeniable—you still trudged into the tattoo shop with him every other month or sometimes week, watching as the needle danced across his thick biceps the same way your fingers longed to.

you still let your head loll on simon’s lap as he forced yet another painfully boring movie on you.

he still pushed your thighs apart and muffled his face in your tummy when you rioted and a romcom ended up playing on his obnoxiously big flat screen.

the same boy from your childhood grunted if your fingers weren’t carding through his dirty-blond locks within the minute.

⸝⸝

and then one day, somehow, after yet another failed date—because all those boys were lacking something, some spark—you found yourself at his flat.

he’d opened the door, clad in just boxers and the gray, army-issued t-shirt with his last name plastered on the back. it made that familiar sizzle run up the length of your spine before tingling at the back of your skull like a firework.

he’d hugged you like he’d done a million times before.

had stroked the length of your hair, the way you liked.

had talked to you softly, the way you needed.

had kissed your temple, the way you craved.

it had happened naturally then too. the push up to your tiptoes and the search of your doe eyes with his whiskey ones. your own were pleading, that much you knew. his thumb had grazed your cheekbone tenderly, prompting a chain reaction that inevitably ended in a tangle of limbs and messy navy sheets.

after that initial detonation, it had happened again and again and again—though it was all as friends. a good arrangement really, if one wasn’t in love with the man who fucked them on the regular.

which you were currently admitting to yourself, while simon—your simon—was buried deep inside you. deeper than anyone else ever had or ever could. deeper than just physical.

“si- look at me.”

it was a futile ask. you knew it all too well. those whiskey eyes never met yours when he was taking you.

“hm. can’t pretty girl. y’feel too fuckin’ good, sunshine,” he grunted.

it was half a lie. because while you did feel like heaven clutching him, that wasn’t fully why he could never meet your glazed doe eyes.

the truth was lodged somewhere deep between his ribs, in that sensitive spot where he kept very few things—like his mom, his baby brother, and you.

and if he met your eyes when he was deep inside your velvet heat, not only would he finish too early, but he’d want to keep you forever. which is something he refused to do.

even if it broke his heart when—after you’d both reached your peaks in a slow, deep, long orgasm—your nimble fingers curled around his dog tags. so goddamn reverent, that touch of yours. it undid him.

your manicured thumb brushed the indentation of his name in the metal plate, and those three little words slipped out of you like you’d always said them with this much meaning. they’d grown too heavy, too real for your body to be able to hold them back anymore. it was the softest, most honest i love you you’d ever said.

simon had frozen, spine rigid even if he’d known—he’d known it was coming.

so when he’d bent down, gently sliding out of you as he pressed his shaking lips to your forehead, tears fell quietly from the corners of your eyes. the same ones he’d lifted so often before, whether it be with a stupid joke or a smug smirk.

you knew too, right then, that he wouldn’t say it back.

that this was the last time. that this was the most you’d get from him.

a single hiccup wracked your throat, which simon eased the only way he knew how—with a familiar, smoothing hand over your hair. he rolled off his bed shortly after, his rippling back to you as he walked into his en suite bathroom.

when he came back out, minutes or hours later he wasn’t sure, with his bare feet dragging across the cold tiles, you were gone.

prompted by sheer agony, simon had almost laughed.

because even if you’d left, you were still everywhere.

his pillows smelled of those expensive shampoo and conditioner you loved, the ones that made your hair all soft and silky. his sheets smelled of vanilla and coconut, same as his cotton t-shirts, which you’d been borrowing since your teenage years.

hell, even his ribs throbbed. right where the fine-line sunshine was inked permanently.

the worst is that he was okay with it. the ache. the pain. it was familiar. bitterly comfortable.

a part of him had always known—even when he’d picked up that pink chalk more than a decade ago—that the sweet girl across the street would haunt him forever.

but he’d suffer your absence a thousand lifetimes over, as long as it meant the ghosts of his own demons could never reach you. could never snuff out that golden light he’d fallen irrevocably in love with.

because that instinct—to protect his sunny girl no matter the cost—had always happened so naturally.

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ᝰ.ᐟ author’s note

hii! okay so this is my first simon riley drabble (and my first ever published piece really lol), so if it sucks please bear with me :*)

idk if this is anything—but i had a 3 hour road trip, 5 hours of sleep, and this wouldn’t leave my head so here it is!

afab!reader

thinking about simon who’s watching you get another drink from the bar, counting the minutes until you return to the booth your team is currently occupying. he swirls the ice in his glass, glancing over every other second just to make sure you’re still within eyesight while he half listens to johnny talk about the most recent Manchester match. it’s already been 3 minutes. what is taking so bloody long?

“I’m pretty sure you’re burning a hole in the back of her head with that stare mate,” kyle says, lightly nudging simon’s shoulder. simon turns to face him, eyebrows knitting together. “m’just making sure she’s alright.”

the corner of kyle’s mouth twitches. “she’s a big girl, isn’t she? seems to be handling herself just fine.”

prick. simon takes a sip of his drink, glaring at him over the glass. he’s fully aware you can handle yourself, he’s seen you drop full grown men to their knees in the field without breaking a sweat. so why does it feel more dangerous to leave you alone in a stupid bar? another quick glance back to the bar reveals you laughing with the bartender, complimenting her hair and enjoying some small talk.

“and simon wants to handle her.” johnny’s words came out slow and a bit slurred, proof that he’d probably had one too many. if he’d been a little less intoxicated simon would’ve shoved him out of the booth. “looks like someone else does too,” kyle mumbled, lifting his glass and looking back in the direction of the bar. simon swears he feels his neck crack at the speed he turns to look.

who the fuck is that?

there's a tall blonde man standing close – too close – to you at the bar. toothpaste commercial smile, wavy hair…and hands that are way too antsy for simon’s taste. the way they move back and forth in the space between the two of you, resting on the bar next to your arm. there’s no need for him to get so close. simon ignores the bubbling pit of annoyance growing in his stomach – and johnny’s childish ‘oooh’ as he turns back to the table. “good for him.”

kyle lets out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as he looks down at the empty glass in his hands. “you're one stubborn git, I’ll tell ya.” placing the glass back down on the table, he looks back up at his masked friend. “you know, if I felt the way you do about her, she would’ve been mine a long time ago.”

simon’s eyes narrow into a glare. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“means exactly what I said.” he shrugs. “you want her so fucking bad, go get her. I wouldn’t let anything stop me if I was you.”

simon scoffs. if only it was that simple. there was no room for error with you. letting you in was a gamble in itself, and now…losing you was simply not an option. he’d managed to convince himself that it wouldn’t be possible to get attached, that being friendly was for the team’s sake. it definitely wasn’t because he was tired of only seeing you in flashes during dreams. and it absolutely was not because he found himself leaving every interaction with you feeling lighter. happier, almost.

“things are best as they are.” his answer was low, but kyle didn’t miss the tinge of sadness to his words.

“does she feel that way? did you ever bother to ask her? because I think if you did, she mi-“

“oh, shit.” johnny’s tone has considerably sobered as he looks past his friends at the bar where you stand. “she does not look happy.”

understatement of the century, simon thought as he turned back to you. hands on your hips, a scowl gracing your features. he swears he’s never seen someone look so angry and so beautiful at the same time. you’re glaring up at the prick with the pepsodent smile, spitting what looks to be venom at him while he looks down his nose at you condescendingly. if simon wasn’t overcome with irritation for whatever he’d done to piss you off, he would’ve enjoyed the sight. his little spitfire.

his. he needs to stop using that word when it comes to you. too dangerous to get used to.

she can handle it repeats in his head like a prayer. every muscle aches to run over and toss the man on the floor, not even stopping to find out what he had done to piss you off first, but he squeezes his glass to placate himself. she’s a big girl, like kyle said. a task force solider. if she needs help, she –

simon’s on his feet within seconds of your panicked gaze meeting his. there's something in your eyes, a look he’s ever seen before and is already planning on never seeing again. he barrels his way across the room as people part like the red sea, leading a path right to where you stand. the man has stepped closer to you, a slimy look on his face as he leers down at you. he may be tall, but simon towers over him as he steps up behind him, fists clenched. “oi.”

the man, who simon has decided is called dickhead, turns lazily to face him. his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the mountain of a man hovering behind him but he quickly masks it, trying his best to look bored.

“the fuck are you doing bothering my girl?”

dickhead has the balls to roll his eyes. simon imagines all the ways he could cut them out.

“i told you I have a boyfriend,” you snap. simon is pleasantly surprised by this, although what else does he expect? you obviously wanted this man to leave you alone, and that should have given him reason enough to do so. should have. he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“not so tough now that he’s not sitting all the way over there now, huh?”

simon nearly falls over. you told this guy that he was your boyfriend? he blinks once at you before he realizes that it’s not the time to digest this information. dickhead is still here and vertical, and that’s a problem. perhaps it’s the rounds of whiskey johnny kept talking him into, but something primal switches on when simon falls into the persona you’ve just created for him. the idea of you being his, needing him flooded his thoughts. dickhead must’ve seen the murderous expression slip onto his face just like one of his masks because the color drains from his face. simon’s voice lowers to a dangerous level.

“speak to her again and see how long you live. now walk away.”

a smart choice, simon hums to himself as dickhead scurries away looking slightly green. he has no idea how smart. simon snaps out of his musings as a hand softly rests on his forearm. wide, grateful eyes stare back up at him as he allows himself to take in current situation. “thank you so much simon, he was such a fucking creep. started asking me shit about my underwear and wouldn’t let me past him.”

“he’s lucky I didn’t know that before I let him go.” he’ll be less lucky later on. simon has a new errand to run, but that can wait until after you’re finished holding his arm and staring up at him like he hung the moon.

“so. when were you gonna tell me we were an item?” the joke tumbles out before he has time to think about it. by the look on your face, you're not about to take off running, so he continues. “y’should probably keep me in the loop about things like that, hm?” he braces himself for the what he thinks is the inevitable – I was only joking, simon…yeah, as if…I know, could you ever imagine that?

instead, the giggle that he receives in response makes his heart swell. laughter shouldn’t sound so musical and delicate. and it definitely shouldn’t come from a girl as beautiful as you when you're laughing. somehow, the fact that its him you're laughing at makes it sound even better. in that moment, simon’s hit with the bone chilling realization that he is fucked. so fucked it’s not even funny. the hours spent building his walls up just for you to tear them down again with a simple good morning, simon had been for nothing, because there was no running from this. and this is why he allows himself to wrap an arm around your waist as you formulate your reply.

if his show of affection takes you by surprise it doesn’t show. instead, you take a step closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his side as he pulls you to him. “seems like you were in the loop just fine, riley. after all, I'm ‘your girl’, right?” he wishes he could kiss you, press you back against the bar because yes, you are his girl, and to hear it in that teasing tone of voice is driving him to madness. he’s almost sure you know what you're doing, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes. it’s not fair to look at him like that, not if you don’t mean it. and simon isn’t 100% sure, but –

“I’m gonna put that on my resume. ‘simon riley’s girl’,” you chirp as you drag him back to your booth. simon smiles. he can settle for 99.9%.

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head all day enjoy <33

Did somebody ask for more??? Too bad cause you’re getting it.

Roommate!Simon Riley who loves to find you sprawled out on the couch like an octopus when he gets home from work. You’re always laid out in some odd way, a way that certainly cannot be comfortable. The blanket you’d been snuggled up with was now tangled haphazardly around your legs, and your arms were dangling off the side, head dangerously close to tipping off with them.

He likes to think you were waiting on him. That it’s the reason why you left the warm lamp on by your head, why there’s a familiar movie playing in the background. Your dinner is untouched on the end table beside you, his is neatly placed on the kitchen counter. His favorite drink is left unopened, a cup of melted ice right next to it, your bottle is nothing but a few drops of water.

Gently setting down his things, he pads as quietly as he can to where you’re laying. The tips of his fingers ghost along your spine before he gives your back a gentle squeeze, moving to the kitchen to grab his plate of food. He puts your food in a plastic container as he waits on supper to warm up, making sure to trade out your empty bottle of water for a fresh one. You’d wake up thirsty, you always did.

The microwave beeps a fraction too loudly once it’s finished. and he finds himself cursing at it, wincing when it squeaks as he opens the door. You twitch in response, adjusting your head just to squish flushed cheeks even further into the cushion.

When he comes back to the couch, he’s careful moving your feet, placing them one by one onto his thighs. He’ll give ‘em a quick little rub, patting the sides of your toes before scarfing down his dinner. He leaves the movie playing while he eats, just because he didn’t wanna wake you up, not because he likes it. Because he doesn’t.

Subconsciously, he finds his fingers tucking the blanket back around your body, and instead of tugging them away, he rests his hand on one of your calves, setting his empty plate on the coffee table.

With one hand on your leg, and the other wrapped around his stomach, he scoots down, letting his head rest on the back of the couch. He’d close his eyes. Just for a minute.

A minute turned into the end credits blasting through the TV speakers, jerking the both of you awake. He notices the way your eyelashes flutter, sleep leaving you dazed and confused. You don’t question him being there, instead just reach for his hand, fingers tangling around his thumb.

“‘m thirsty.”

Of course you were. He shakes his finger, jostling you to open your eyes again. “On the table.”

There, waiting for you, was a fresh bottle of water. You don’t question that either. “thanks,” He just grunts in response, settling back down beside you.

You keep your grip tight on his hand, flicking off the lamp after chugging your drink. He turns on another movie, for you, of course. Definitely not for him.

As sleep tugs him under once more, his side droops down toward your body until he’s resting an arm against your back, and his head against his arm. Large legs stretch out as far as they’ll go, his other hand moving to lay over your feet.

Now you’re tangled together. Two octopuses sprawled out on a small piece of furniture.

And what’s that they say about octopuses? They’ve got three hearts?

Well he was sure that was him right now. Three hearts all beating solely for you. They always would.

Guys, this is the end of my drafts. WHAT DO I DO?? Is this stupid? Too silly? Was it only cute and domestic in my own brain??

this is literally so me coded 🪽🍰

torn between wanting to be a beam of light, wild soul, big heart, bright smile, powered by the sunshine, braided hair and quietly beautiful, soft smile, cunning mind, gentle heart with those who earn it, sleek style, clean soul, hair blown out, rich, takes no shit.

More pink🩰🦢♡

╰﹒ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon woke up to you sleeping far away from him in the bed so he pulls you back to him <//3

C/W: none just clingy simon missing u in his sleep (pure fluff) !!

W/C: 944 bubs

Simon shifted in his bed, feeling the empty coolness beside him. He reached out, wanting to feel your warmth, but his hand met nothing but empty sheets and bed covers.

"Love..?" He whispers faintly, his voice filled with a quiet desperation to find you.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Simon slowly opens them to find you there, on the other side of the bed, lying with your back turned to him.

He lets out a quiet chuckle at the position you're in, your legs flung out in a starfish, snoring the night away. It's a silly sight, but it cracks him up, and he can't help but chuckle softly.

"Baby..." Simon sleepily whines to himself, calling out to you. "C'mere.."

Simon gently moves closer to you, pulling on the sheets to free himself. You feel his arm encircle your waist as he pulls you towards his warm body, spooning you in his arms.

Your skin meets his, and the warmth from his body causes your heart to skip a beat. You feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, feeling peaceful and safe in his embrace.

As he holds you close, Simon's thoughts drift to you. He thinks about how soft he is for you, how you make him feel alive and whole, how he doesn't want to let go, ever.

You're his everything, his world, and he can't imagine life without you. He feels his heart swell with love for you, and the need to be close to you and hold you tight, to never let you go.

With you in his arms, Simon feels complete. He would do anything to keep you close, to love and cherish you every day for the rest of his life.

You're the love of his life, and he will never forget the moment he first held you close, feeling your heart beat against his own, and knowing that he had found his soulmate.

As he holds you close, Simon's body moves instinctively, nuzzling his face in your neck, wanting to feel your warmth, to be closer to you. He wraps his arms around you tighter, unable to bear the thought of ever being apart from you again.

The warmth coming from his body slowly roused you from your slumber, your eyes fluttering open as Simon's arms tightened around your waist. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, beating in time with yours, and your heart skipped a beat in response.

"Simon?" You called out to him, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep, and you could hear the smile in his voice as he responded.

"I'm here, love," he whispered, his voice low and full of love, and you could feel his body pressing up to yours, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His hands softly carressing your waist and hips. You felt his breath upon your neck, his heart beating in yours, and you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudible.

As his arms wrapped around you, you felt a rush of warmth and comfort wash over you. His voice was low and gentle, and you could feel the love and intensity in every word.

You loved him more with each passing moment; each time he held you, each time he told you how much he loved you, and each time you felt his heart beating against yours.

"I love you, too, Simon," you whispered back, further relaxing into his embrace as you pecked his bicep that was hugging you close by your shoulders.

You could feel the love and intensity in every part of his body, from the warmth of his breath against your neck to the way his heart beat in time with yours. You knew that you would always be by his side, loving him and cherishing him for all eternity.

As you drifted back to sleep, his arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go and wishing to always be this close. You could feel the love in every part of his body, and you knew that this was the love that could never be broken.

Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck, his breath warm and soothing against your skin, and you felt a pang of love and comfort wash over you.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go even for a moment, and he held you against him, feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

"Goodnight, love," he whispered, his voice low and filled with all the love he felt for you as he cuddled you close.

"G'night..." you sighed dreamily and closed your eyes.

As you drifted off to sleep, with your head resting against his chest, Simon couldn't help the rush of affection for you. He knew that you were the love of his life, that he would do anything for you, and that he couldn't imagine a future without you by his side.

Holding you close to him, he felt your heart beating slowly and regularly against his chest, and he felt a deep sense of peace wash over him. Every fiber of his being told him that he loved you, that you were everything he had ever wanted in life, and that he would always be there to protect you, to love you, and to cherish you.

He whispers your name softly, almost inaudible, as he drifted off to sleep, holding you tightly in his embrace. The love and intensity in his voice, in his touch, and in his eyes, was overwhelming, and he knew that you felt it too.

navi / masterlist !

if my (future) husband doesn’t think about me when Cover Me Up is on, he’s not the one.