simon ‘ghost’ riley masterlist
cod masterlist | request guidelines | main m.list
NSFW ALPHABET
as a dad
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 l
a one night stand with simon riley would look like...
home
simon has been away for more than a month, you try to get some pent-up relief in the bath
stitches
Task Force 141 aren't immune to injury, so Price handpicked a medic- you. You're not immune to night terrors and strike up an unlikely friendship with the allusive Ghost. Growing a bit too close for fraternisation guidelines...
simon just can't help himself
the real simon riley
Humbling myself over this fictional man
the wedding of simon riley
Thank you @qualidyke
Peter: Did you just refer to a knife as a “people opener”?
Wade: Should I not have?
Clint: I failed the exercise test.
Natasha: How?
Clint:They asked me to run and I said no.
tony: i’m a piece of trash.
steve: as someone who cares about the environment, i am obligated to pick you up. is 7 ok?
tony: you smooth motherfu- yeah 7 is fine.
white flag ✹ epilogue
note: im kinda sad to say, but this will be the final part of this series! im so so grateful for all the love and support for it, this was honestly so fun to write! i hope everyone enjoys and have a wonderful day/night!!!!<3<3<3
pairing: ghost x gn!reader
wc: 1.7k
no use of y/n
reader's callsign is 'stingray'
summary: your night in date with simon :)
warnings: domesticity, so much fluff, soap and gaz are wingmen again, tiny bit of light angst
ao3
【prev】
of all the things in this world that could be considered intimidating, flowers were the last thing simon would put on that list; but the brightly coloured flora seemed to have a paralysing effect on him as he stands in the tiny flower shop.
with a quiet, defeated groan to himself, he dials johnny's number and presses his phone to his ear.
"what flowers am i supposed to buy?" he blurts no sooner than soap picks up, not even bothering to greet him in his haste.
"hello to you too?" johnny mumbles, his confusion evident. a moment passes before he registers what simon asked, "oh! wait," he laughs, his voice getting further away as he lowers his phone to call out, "gaz, get out here! lt.'s buyin' sting flowers!"
simon considers hanging up then and there, but he's severely out of his depth and unfortunately, soap and gaz are his only hope.
"oh i see, he needs an expert opinion, does he?" kyle's teasing gets louder as he approaches soap, and he can hear the smile in both the sergeants' voices.
really, simon should've known they wouldn't let him off easy.
"christ alive…" he keeps his voice as low as possible, pinching the bridge of his nose in the corner of the small shop. "just help me, you pillock." the cashier has been staring at him since he walked in, and honestly, he doesn't blame them; a giant man in a mask isn't exactly the regular clientele for a florist.
"uh, probably their favourite?" soap suggests, the sound of gaz's muffled chuckling just about audible in the background.
"they don't have 'em." simon replies, his eyes darting over the vibrant display one last time in the hopes that the answer would somehow appear.
"nah, you want roses, mate." gaz interjects, and he hears soap make an agreeing noise.
simon hums. "aren't they too… cliché?" he asks, stepping over to the large display of rose bouquets. it's the classic choice, he's aware of that much, but whether or not you'd prefer something more unique was weighing on his mind. this was something he never expected to have to worry about.
"no! they're romantic," gaz insists, his amusement still very evident in his voice, "trust me mate, sting'll love them."
simon contemplates his point for a moment, staring at the deep red petals and trying to imagine the look on your face if he gave them to you. you'd been happy with a handful of squashed flowers he'd stolen from the flowerbeds on base, so he doubted you'd turn your nose up at them. it doesn't take him long to make a decision.
"alright, cheers." he mutters, grabbing a lively looking bouquet of a dozen from the display and making his way over to the cashier – who was quickly trying to pretend they hadn't been staring.
"you'll need to give us a debrief–" soap begins, but he's cut off by simon hanging up and shoving his phone back in his pocket. he gets the feeling he won't be hearing the end of this for quite some time.
it's only when he's standing outside the door to your room that the nerves finally start to set in. he can't help but feel like an idiot, fidgeting on the spot about to knock on your door like a lovestruck teenager, almost crushing the stems of the roses with his iron grip.
he knocks twice, before he has the chance to change his mind and back out. not even a second later, you're pulling the door open and regarding him with that warm look that has his palms sweating.
you're wearing casual clothes, and so is he, as per the agreement you made to keep this 'date' simple. it doesn't matter what you're wearing though; he's seen you covered head to toe in blood, sweat, mud, and whatever else, and you still manage to be utterly breathtaking in every way.
with a nervous cough, simon holds out the rose bouquet to you, hoping you don't notice the way his hands are shaking.
"wha…" you blink in surprise at the flowers, taking them from him and admiring them with a tiny smile. "you bought these, right? didn't just rip 'em out of someone's garden?" you raise a teasing eyebrow at him, your smile turning more playful.
"yes, i bought them." he grumbles lightheartedly, a smile of his own forming under his balaclava. the way you effortlessly diffuse the tension has his anxieties melting away.
"thank you." you breathe, softly caressing the vermillion petals. "they're lovely, i love them."
simon let's out a quiet sigh of relief at your affirmation. "good; cost me a tenner, they did."
the laugh you let out is like music to his ears. "well, i'm sorry to bankrupt you." you grin, turning back into your room and carefully putting the bouquet in the vase on the mantle. after making sure the arrangement looks nice, you come to stand in front of him again.
simon's not sure how to continue, the nerves from earlier resurfacing as the conversation fades. the way you're watching him expectantly, he feels the urge to take you by the hand – and as if you read his his mind, you hold it out for him. he places his hand in yours, squeezing gently and leading you the short distance to the kitchen.
he'd set the table earlier, having found an only slightly discoloured tablecloth buried in the back of the cupboards. it's a little sad, but it was the best he could come up with.
"wow," you tease, the same playful smile as before on your lips as you meet his eyes, "so fancy."
he snorts, ushering you over to your chair and pulling out for you. "only the best for your majesty." he preens at your happiness when you laugh again, glad for the mask covering what he's sure is an obvious blush.
he occupies himself by grabbing the two plates he'd finished preparing a minute ago, just before he'd met you at your door.
"i made spag bol." simon mutters as he sets them down on the table. he keeps an eye on your expression as he takes his seat opposite you, anticipation of whatever response you may have.
"fine by me," you say, an easy smile lifting your features. "it's almost the perfect candlelit dinner, all we're missing is the candle."
simon blinks. "you don't like candles." he replies, a hint of confusion in his gaze when he meets your eye.
"no," you smile fondly, looking down at your plate. "i don't."
a comfortable silence falls over the room as you both start to eat. the warmth and normality of it all makes simon’s heart swell with affection. he's happy, content, being here with you, even doing something as monotonous as eating dinner. you make it worth enjoying.
"how is it?" he asks once you've both finished, once again waiting apprehensively for your reaction.
"it's great," you give him a lopsided smile, resting your chin on your hand as you look at him. "thanks for cooking."
simon quirks an eyebrow at you. "you don't have to lie." he mutters, feeling the tips of his ears burn under your intense gaze.
"okay, well, don't quit your day job." you chuckle, standing up and making your way over to the sink with your plate in your hands.
he huffs a small laugh, and joins you at the sink with his own plate. "you're crushin' my dreams here."
"sorry, chef." you grin and gesture to the washing up in the sink. "you wash, i'll dry?"
"if your majesty insists."
you turn on the radio for some quiet background noise, and the two of you start cleaning up in tandem. it's nice, how you can work together so seamlessly with no need for words. he's struck again by the thought that if he were alone this would be a chore, but with you beside him, he finds such a tedious job surprisingly pleasant.
simon hands the last dish to you, and as you take it your fingers brush against his hand. the way he flinches away from your touch is unconscious, and when he looks over to you he expects you to pity him, or be offended by his action – but your face holds neither of those things.
you're just drying the dish he handed you, the same content expression on your face that had been there all night, as if you didn't even notice.
"sorry." he mumbles, his gaze falling from your face to your hands as you work.
simon loves you. he shouldn't be afraid of your touch. he wants to touch you, and for you to touch him. he doesn't know why he reacted like that.
"don't be." you utter, soft and compassionate, and his heart feels like it's about to burst out of his chest. for the third time that night, he's hit full force with how wonderful you are.
there's no judgement, no probing questions, nothing. you understood him, even though you had no idea why he acts this way.
you turn away, your back to him as you store the dishes in the cabinets. you hadn't been looking at him before, but now he was sure you couldn't see him, he feels his throat constrict with the overwhelming urge to burst into tears.
simon takes your free hand and you pause, still facing away as you wait for his next move.
he takes a small step closer, minimising the space between you, and rests his forehead against the back of your head. with his eyes screwed shut, he takes a deep breath and inhales the familiar scent of you. his grip on your hand tightens slightly.
you lean back into him, a quiet sigh escaping you as you squeeze his hand in return. neither of you say a word, but you don't have to. he feels how you love him in the way you never expect more from him than he can give.
it's the most peace he's felt in years.
taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @sunshiinegaz , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna , @cathnoneofyourbusiness ,
@madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling , @stateofcatatonia , @rivalriotrenegade , @yoichiislovie , @nirvanaaaonly , @ameliaamareeee , @batmanunicorns523 , @sapientiia , @thesecretwriter , @susanmukami , @ryze1113 , @stars-andfreckles , @spya1 , @tunaa-luvchrm , @tzutology
Can I ask you a question?It’skindofpersonalbutnotthatpersonal…my-my suit…too much?
“Daughter, be of good comfort; your faith has made you whole “
“Incredible. You follow one idiot question with another.”
— Tony, definitely
tom holland doing them things i like: THAT.
wc 1200
I wasn't fully satisfied by Vampire v1, so here is v2? Better? Worse? We shall see :)
Summary: You were done having the life sucked out of you by the one person you care the most about
Warnings: Hurt/no comfort, language, argument
Inspired by 'Vampire' - Olivia Rodrigo
Masterlist
He was pushing you away, you could feel it as each day went on, you felt the distance he began to put between the two of you, draining you of your energy each second that he refused to meet your eyes, each time he pulled away from your touch, and avoided you in the halls and on missions. You got a few passing phrases if you really tried, but your efforts began to diminish as he sucked the fight out of you.
You woke up that day in a strangely good mood, deciding, for your own wellbeing, you’d go at today with optimism, sick of the lingering sadness that burned behind your eyes at all hours of the day. You bounded down the hallway to the showers with a new pep in your step, a smile on your face as you pass people walking in the other direction, but you felt the effects of the fabrication of your mood quickly as you see him suddenly, not expecting to have to come face to face with him quite yet.
Deciding to try and keep the act up, you give him a light smile as you pass, hoping that he’ll maybe acknowledge you, that he makes the eye contact you had been longing for, but all your hope suddenly drained as he pretended not to see you as he stormed by, clear anger gracing the small amount of skin you could see under his mask.
You glanced behind you as he passed, hurt apparent in your features as you looked at the back of his head, quickly walking away from you, away from everything you had built over the years, you finally realized it was gone.
The day immediately became gray, your mood soured and ruined, and you knew the others could see it as well, no one acknowledged it though, but you saw the looks of pity that graced everyone’s faces as they looked at you.
By the end of the day, you decided enough was enough, you couldn’t go on each day this way, it was affecting your work, your teamwork on missions, and your skills in the field, and that was dangerous for not only you, but for everyone on your team. You loved them all dearly and decided that the risk just wasn’t worth it anymore.
You approached his door and stopped in front of it, looking down at your feet, shaking hands intertwined in front of your chest as you prepared to knock, thinking about all the things you had to say to him. You finally got up the courage to knock, tentatively, slowly, almost hoping he wasn’t even there so you didn’t have to do this.
Some rustling could be heard from behind the door, quiet footsteps approaching you, the door abruptly swinging open to let you inside. He didn’t have to look at you to know who it was, but he didn’t say a word as he closed the door behind you.
You stood with your back facing him, pacing back and forth, shaking your hands out, trying to get the anxiety to leave your limbs. You didn’t want to look weak, this wasn’t about to be some plead for forgiveness, you weren’t about to beg for his affections, you needed to stand up for yourself, so that was what you did.
You let out a deep sigh before starting, “what the hell is going on Simon?” you ask suddenly, cutting right to the chase.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hear him huff from behind you, causing you to whip around suddenly, an incredulous look in your eyes as you finally look at him for the first time that night.
“How do you lie without flinching?” You ask simply, tilting your head to the side in mock confusion, an irritated look curtaining your sight. You both knew what was going on, he was just too stubborn to admit it. You felt foolish to think he might participate in this, throw you a bone maybe.
He said nothing at this, his stare intense, all consuming, you missed when that gaze would soften at the sight of you, but now, it was like you were any other passerby to him, nothing.
Your tamped down anger began to resurface gradually, you could feel it slowly branch from your heart, sinking into your every vein and nerve ending, his lack of care unearthing every emotion you had been keeping in for the past couple weeks.
“What a mesmerizing, paralyzing, fucked up little thrill. I can’t figure out just how you do it, and god knows I never will, Simon.” You spit out, anger lacing your low tone.
He continued on with the silence, you knew he could shut down when arguments got too intense, especially with you, but you couldn’t do this anymore, the malice just began pouring out, unable to be stopped as you persisted on.
“How’s that castle built off people you pretend to care about?” You laugh sarcastically, “just what you wanted, cool guy, you got it.”
Your mind started to race with all the moments he had told you he cared about you, the rare occasion he would express his love, the rage finally branching down your spine and into your arms, sprouting from your fingertips, unable to be contained at the thought of him throwing it all away, throwing you away.
“You said it was true love, but would that be hard?” You scoff dryly, “You can’t love anyone because that would mean you have a heart,” your voice gradually getting louder, “I tried to help you out, now I know that I can’t,” exasperated resentment drips from each syllable. “Because how you think is the kind of thing I’ll never understand.”
Your voice began to crack towards the end, you cleared your throat and gathered yourself before continuing, you wouldn’t look weak in front of him anymore.
“I loved you truly, but I’ve gotta laugh at the stupidity? Because I’ve made some real big mistakes, but you make the worst ones look fine. I should’ve known it was strange, you only come out at night, I used to think I was smart, but you made me look so naive,” a frustrated tear began to slip out, so you quickly swiped it away before your heavy hand dropped back at your side, you watched as his eyes followed your hand in its movements.
You saw the look in his eyes falter slightly at your words, but you turn away once again, not wanting him to get to you, “I’m done Ghost,” you make a point to stop using his real name, “I can’t do this anymore, you’ve bled me dry of all my emotional, my fight is gone, this isn’t healthy anymore, but was it really ever? Not to be cliche, but you’ve bled me dry like a goddamn vampire, and I’m done.”
You began to walk out, not having anything else to say, he didn’t have any rebuttal, nothing to defend himself, he said nothing. Suddenly he grabbed your wrist and tried to get you to turn around, your heart quickly jumping to your throat at the action, but you quickly wrenched your hand from his grasp, glaring down at his hand, and meeting his eyes a final time. You saw the built up pain and hurt in them, it broke your heart that much more, before you turned and walked out, not looking back. Not ever again.
an: eh we'll see how this one does