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{Simon}In a rhythmic ballet, my fists were continuously pummeling a punching bag, rocking it with an onslaught of blows. Each hit, each punch, sent waves of aching pain through my body, the impact leaving me breathless. Each stroke of my fists against the heavy bag felt like a hammer on a nail, the force and rage within me ever-growing despite the fatigue setting in with each brutal assault. My thoughts were in turmoil, my mind plagued with doubt and confusion. So I kept going, beating my body, punishing myself through an intense workout. And as I pushed myself to my limits, I felt like I was going to be sick. My muscles trembled, tears filling my eyes as I overloaded them with weight, my soul and body crying out for release.
Three weeks away from her had made me numb, dulled my feelings and turned my heart to stone. I didn't dare look her way, afraid she will see the lies in my eyes. But then she came back to me, bringing with her a warmth that tore through that wall of ice and thawed my frozen heart to life. I tried to ignore her, but her unwavering loyalty made it impossible. How could she still care about me when I couldn't even be honest with her?
I don't deserve her— the words echo deep within my chest, a weight settling on my heart and pulling me away from her. I try to sort through my feelings, but they're a tangled mess of confusion and doubt, regret and pain. It's too much to hold onto, the weight of it all crushing me under its sheer magnitude. I don't know how I can be with her when I'm so broken inside, so haunted by the past. Am I strong enough to be with her, to be the man she deserves? The question haunts me.
I've put it off for too long— the words eat at me. I should've told her the first night I arrived back, but I was a coward. It nearly crushed me to see her believe that it was her fault, like she'd done something wrong. But that wasn't the case. I had to tell her, I had to come clean. It was eating me alive, and it pained me to keep her in the dark for another second.
"Letting off some steam hey Lt?"
Soap's casual, almost nonchalant question catches me off guard, leaving me a little on edge.
"What do you want Soap?" I reply casually, trying not to show too much emotion as I attempt to keep the conversation casual.
He crossed his arms as he stood above me, spotting my next set. With the bar down, I sat up, enjoying the cool breeze from the door being propped open. It was refreshing, a welcome reprieve from the distinct smell inside that I knew too well— that which belonged only to her. And there she was, just a few feet outside the door. Unaware of my eyes lingering on her, lost in her own thoughts.
"You talk to her yet?"
"Little busy here mate." I say, pushing the bar up and then back down again. But even as I ignore him, my thoughts are far away from here...with her.
"You're a heartless bastard if you don't tell her."
"Then I guess I am a heartless bastard."
Soap clicks his tongue, obviously not a fan of my dismissive response. He crosses his arms, a disgusted look on his face as he says, "She's going to find out."
I stare at Soap, my expression stubborn and guarded as I respond, "She's not going to find out."
Soap points a finger at me, looking just as obstinate as I feel in that moment. "Maybe.. But this is gonna blow up in your face when she does."
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She's Bad News- Simon Riley x reader
FanfictionSimon Riley x Reader Y/n is war correspondent who is embedded with the elite Task Force 141. From chasing the next news piece to evading gunfire, explosives and a bad-tempered Lieutenant . Hating each other was their mission, but needing her becam...