𝘒ö𝘯𝘪𝘨 / 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

tastes like strawberries {Ghost}

Simon believed he could have you.
He loved you, of course.
And like the sweet, innocent person you were, you were completely unaware.

Poor, poor, you. Walking right into his web. It took you too long to realize his 'love' wasn't real.

It was an obsession.
A sickness.
A craving.

The first signs appeared quickly.
Minor things, really.
Things that could be explained away with a smile, a sweet gesture.

The way he kept wanting to know where you were, what you were doing.
The way he seemed to show up at your office more than he should.
The way he would always find you, even if you told no one where you went.

You didn't bat an eyelash at his actions.
'He's just being a good friend.'
He's just checking up on me.'

Silly, silly, y/n.
So naive.

He couldn't stop himself from being around you every moment of the day.
He was obsessed with you.
You had unknowingly became his world.
You had unknowingly became his.

"You're lucky the bleeding stopped. Just needs to be stitched up and bandaged now."

Lovely, lovely, y/n. The sweetest woman on base. A medic in the infirmary.

And Simon? Well, he was a bloody man after all, a soldier.
The best.
A killer.

"Course it ain't nothing serious, love. Just a scratch, that's all."

You were unaware, that was the problem. You didn't know what love was, truly, so who were you to recognize when Simon was being possessive and obsessive?

He was always so sweet.
And you were always so naive.

So, so, so, naive, y/n.

"Nothing serious? You and your bloody pride. It'll kill you one day, I swear."

But it was love in a sick, twisted, deranged way. In Simon's twisted mind, he did love you.

He loved you in a way that was entirely self-serving.
He wanted you as his own.
He wouldn't let anything or anyone else have you.

"Pride or not, I won't die. I have you after all, yeah?"

He loved you fiercely, like a rabid dog who's found his prey. And it was the sickness that made him want to keep you close by him, to protect his precious love.

"You're pretty damn lucky you have me."

Would you look so lovely crying?
Has he ever seen you cry?
He wondered.

"Fucking hell, y/n, that stings. Can't you be more gentle?"

You were bandaging a stab wound he got during training, supposedly. In all truth, the man stabbed himself. Any excuse to see you of course.

He loves you after all.
You just didn't know it yet.

"Well, can't you be more careful?"

"I can try. Ain't easy avoiding death, y/n." He chuckled.

Your voice.
Simon's ears tingled at the sound.
You had an incredibly soothing presence to him.

The way your hands moved, quick and nimble. They had bandaged him before, many times, with all the accidents that befell him while 'training'.

He wondered if you ever suspected anything, if you knew what he was really doing.

He doubted it.

Sweet y/n. You were too kind to even think someone would hurt themselves just so they could be near you.

Too naive for the thought to cross your mind.

"You really should have Price assign someone else as the training instructor, Simon."

Your perfume, so sweet and floral. You made his heart race as you bent over to finish his bandages.

"Why should he do that? No one tougher than me to train the batch."

"This is the 5th time you've come to the infirmary in a span of a week, Simon. A week. It's always a bullet to the skin, a knife wound, God, even a third degree burn. What kind of training are you doing out there?"

But how would you know?
It wasn't the soldiers that he instructed wounding him during training.
It was Simon himself.

He knew he had to be a bit more careful with his wounds. But that smile, that smile could make a grown man melt.

"Are you mad at me, love?"

"Mad? More like worried. One day you'll come to me with your bloody arm ripped off."

"I would like to see a fucking idiot try to rip my arm off."

His gaze drifted down to your hands on his skin. How he loved those hands. They were always so quick, nimble and agile. Even when they weren't working.

"Watch your language. Just be sure to not strain yourself too much. The cut might open and bleed if you do."

Soon enough, a few other soldiers mingled in as they came with their own injuries they sustained, seeking your medical attention.

"Yeah, yeah. Language."

"Just be careful, alright? I have to get back to work."

"Yeah...I'll be careful."

Simon watched as you returned to your work, tending to the other soldiers who had come in seeking your expertise.

His eyes roamed across your curves as you moved, the fabric of your uniform clinging to your body. His attention drawn to your hips as they shifted left and right with each step.

The other soldiers may as well not have been there at all.

You'll come around, he thought.
One way or another, you were his.
Whether you knew it or not.

Before he left, he was sure to mingle by your desk for a moment.
Just a quick moment.
No one saw.
No one cared to look over.

His heavy footsteps left the infirmary.
A smile behind his mask.
In his hands?
A cup of coffee.
Your cup of coffee.

He could already picture it.

Your eyes looking up as the door opened and shut behind him as he left.
You walking back to your desk.
You reaching over to take a sip of your coffee, but finding nothing.
You would look up around you, but not suspect him.

His mask lifted to rest on his nose as he raised the cup to his lips.

One sip.
Two sips.

'Fucking hell.'

He closed his eyes as he let out a soft groan. He loved it.
The sweet taste of your strawberry flavored lip balm lingered on his lips.

'Tastes like fucking strawberries.'

You'll know soon, y/n.
Just how much he loves you, of course.
Just.
How.
Much.