__________
{Simon}|3 years later
Somewhere in Manchester....|In retrospect, the first few years of our marriage may have been challenging at points, but to say it was all hard fought would be an understatement. Not long after she moved to the UK with me, we decided to take the plunge and tie the knot. Looking back, I still remember the day of our wedding so clearly. There was no denying her beauty, even if she did display some rather bridezilla-like tendencies in the weeks leading up to it. Her maid of honor, Caleb, practically got PTSD from dealing with her frequent outbursts and meltdowns, but he handled the brunt of her frenzies with the patience of a saint.
Y/n had long since bid adieu to the life of a desk jockey, instead embracing a role as the lead foreign affairs correspondent for her network. Gone were the days of long stints in Al Mazrah away from home, as her new work schedule allowed her to spend time with me during brief yet frequent intervals. From her time in Urzikstan covering the conflicts and terrorist groups that had been plaguing the region, as well as her reports on the grim reality of human trafficking in Berlin. Y/n had done it all and her work took her to places I could only imagine. With her commitment to getting the story, no matter the hardship or distance she had to travel, we always managed to find time for each other, even if it meant meeting halfway around the globe.
When not on duty I would spend my spare time around home— our home, to find my wife on the television, covering battles and conflicts in foreign lands, her reports playing on various news channels for the public eye to see. Though her entire skit was impressive, my favourite part was the beginning, hearing her introduce herself as "Y/n Riley..." always brought a smile to my face.
For the brief few weeks she would return home, I would be eagerly waiting. My mind painting a picture of all the endless things I could do to her the moment she steps through our front door. I would be ready to have her, whether it be thrown up against a wall or against the nearest table or counter. Basically anywhere within reach that would allow me to possess her completely. All I wanted in those moments was her, and I would take her in every single way possible. It was a feeling that never grew old, even when it was short lived, and each moment with her was a treasure beyond measure.
We often exchanged tales from our hectic work lives. I would regale her with the nerve-wracking battles I had been through as she would recount the mind-boggling conspiracies she had come across in her field. She would bring to life the people and the places with such vivid detail, as if I were experiencing it all first hand. Likewise, I would captivate her with the ferocity and tenacity of the opposing threat, sharing my tales of survival and strength in the face of adversity. We would be lost in our stories, even though I witnessed most of hers on television, I still let her share hers, painting the picture, word for word.
However, those days of watching her on television were over, as she had chosen to take a well-needed break from her rigorous work as one of the most distinguished war reporters out there. She was upset to step away from the lime-light of war reporting, though I was excited that her hiatus had brought us one step closer to the next phase of our lives. This coming chapter, this impending stage which we both desired, opening up a new frontier for us. Taking those first steps into uncharted territory... Parent hood.
"You need to screw this part into that piece there." She says, as if I didn't know what I was doing.
"And you need to stop giving instructions and go finish getting ready." I raise a brow as she stands in the doorway of the nursery, watching eagerly as I build the cot.
I sighed to myself, realising that putting it together was much more difficult than I had initially assumed. Why are these things so bloody difficult to build? I wondered, my frustration growing as I struggled to follow the often convoluted instructions. Making the baby was the easy part....
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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...