day 6!!!

Drew these one I was out today. The pink one was done in glitter pen.

my versions of simon will always have a lisp or some kind of speech impediment (idk if that counts as a headcanon???idfk)

it’s a big part of the reason he’s so quiet, reverts to grunting and nodding. not because he’s miserable. he’s shy.

he grew up with no one talking to him, not his mam and certainly not his da, teachers would just kind of…ignore him; too scared to open his mouth at school and be either judged for the way he spoke or berated the same way he was at home. kids were cruel, hissing after him on the playground until he resorted to sitting under the coat hook at break times, tucked away to himself.

he left school early, dropped out to join the service and never finished his GCSEs, not to mention he was bottom set for everything anyway. he knew he was clever, could do shit with his hands and was decent at science and history, but everything else he just…couldn’t be bothered. refused to answer questions, never put his hand up, was in detention for ignoring teachers more times than he wasn’t.

even now, he’s known as the silent giant. looms in the corner of the room, a towering wall of imposing silence and shadow.

only you know, in the quiet of his bunk, just and so audible over the hum of his desk fan and the constant noise of the barracks. only you know how gentle he sounds. stumbles slightly over his words, sometimes he means one thing and says another, sometimes he has to whisper just to be brave enough to get the words out. but it’s only ever you. the one person he feels safe enough to talk to. and sometimes, when he gets in his own head, gets stuck in a rut and feels like he’s being buried alive again, you don’t hear his voice for weeks.

no one ever taught him how to speak. so he just…doesn’t.

Dad Simon × Wife Reader

༺♡༻

Simon Riley was a nightmare of a dad. One wrong move and he grounded his son for a whole week. No calls. No going out. No friends. Nothing but staying in and fucking studying.

You walked into your home after a soul-crushing day to find your only child, Tom, and his friends clustered in the living room, bags slung over shoulders, laughter too loud. They were heading out, again.

"Tom, baby, no" you said, setting your bag down. "It’s too late. It’s ten already."

"Ma, it’s fine" he said easily. Too easily. "I’ll be back in an hour. And if not, I’ll just crash at Ric’s -"

"No. Absolutely not. Nuh-uh."

He groaned. "Mom, I’m seventeen."

You turned slowly and looked him dead in the eye. "Exactly."

He scoffed and stood up - and Christ, he was already almost Simon’s height. Broad shoulders. Long limbs. Too big, too fast. Your chest tightened. You’d always been scared shitless of big men.

You remembered the first time you met Simon - bumping into him on your way back from partying with friends, freezing when you looked up and saw just how massive he was. Towering over you. You’d panicked and sprinted across the street like your life depended on it.

And yet years go by and he’d been the only man who ever mattered.

The only one who sat when you entered a room. The only one who shifted his stance to seem smaller at crowded dinners. The one who always knelt down to hear you better as you rambled on about your day.

You didn't even know he was in special forces when you started dating him. Yet he was the only one who bent the world around you instead of the other way around.

"Tom" you said sharply as his friends grabbed their things.

"I said no. You aren’t leaving. It’s dangerous, and have you even seen the news? That psycho killer still hasn’t been caught-"

"Ma, move" His voice dropped. Firm, just like his dad. "I’m goin."

He nudged past you.

Your hand shot out on instinct, fingers wrapping around his wrist. "I said no baby it's not safe. And you're not going."

He turned and looked down at you. God...

Your body betrayed you.

Your breath hitched. Your limbs locked. Too tall. Too close. Your heart slammed violently against your ribs.

"Ma" he muttered, irritation creeping in. "Let go."

You didn’t. Hell you couldnt even hear him. It's like your system had a shut down.

He shoved your hand away - not hard. Barely anything at all.

But it was enough.

Your foot slipped. Pain exploded up your ankle as you stumbled and went down with a sharp cry.

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