#Simon/OFC

[simonbrain]

love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

[gazspookiebear]

Ugh I'm so sleepy. Eepy man. Enjoy this shit I cooked up in ten minutes.

You wake up, only to find yourself just as tired as you were a few hours ago. Your eyelids are heavy, and you're fighting back sleep with every blink. Exhaustion wracking your body with every movement.

You feel Simon groan and sit up next to you.

"Mmm... five more minutes?" You mumble sleepily, shivering at the sudden lack of warmth.

"'M sorry love, we've gotta get up"

"Please? I'm so tired..." You whine quietly

"Negative," he says, chuckling at your miserable pout.

"Please, Si?" You say it so sweetly. The nickname you rarely used. His weakness.

A moment passes before you finally hear a response.

"Fine."

You grin, knowing that you've won. He lays back down and wraps his arm around you, pulling your back to his chest. You close your eyes and sleep quickly overtakes you.

Of course, it was never just 'five more minutes'. Simon called your work shortly after and informed them that you wouldn't be coming in today. However that works.

[moonriseoverkyoto]

Wearing your brother’s dog tags brings a lot of questions, which meant problems. Especially from men, especially at a bar where said men try to pick you up. Or strike a conversation about the mysterious dog tags. Lucky for you a certain Scot lovingly doesn’t think to ask too many questions. Not until Johnny “Soap” Mactavish’s tongue is down your throat in the back of his car on holiday do the gears begin to turn. But only, yes only after, a few odd weekends of small dates and letters when he can write, he finally decides to ask who your tags belong to between deep kisses and pants. You frown as you pull away to respond, the mood dampened.

“Oh I really shouldn’t say..” you sigh not wanting to explain the long story typically because it ruins the mood “my brother gave me these so I wouldn’t worry about him when he leaves on missions. His call sign is Ghost and…” Shit. Johnny’s whole body seizes up as his heart makes a pitfall down his body. His hearing stops as his brain repeats your joined last name over and over and over; Riley, Riley Riley Riley. Fuck why didn’t he connect the dots. Ghost always was secretive and protective about his younger sister, everyone knew he always declined to bring you as his plus one or even show photos to the rest of the 141. Damnit he knows somewhere down the line if Gaz or even worse Price hears about this that he’ll never live it down. If Ghost hears about this - shit he’ll never live. He finally zones back in to hear you say

“…but that doesn’t matter because you guys don’t run in the same circles, right?” Soap’s nervous smile gives you all the time for your heart to join his in dropping down below. But as your phone rings both of you are sure your hearts have dropped down to hell as the caller id reads: Simon Riley.

Drabble Drabble, I’m tired and I wanted to put this on paper before it slipped my mind. I’ll expand upon this later but this is mostly an idea for @glossysoap to enjoy because Glossy loves Soap as much as I do. So I hope you enjoy btw not proofread so toodles xoxo - Moon

©️moonriseoverkyoto 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

Reposts are 100000% appreciated. Also my inbox is open for requests!

[yakowo]

🍳😊

[forsworned]

Ghost: you’re a bug.

Y/n: how???

Ghost: small. crawls around. Y/n: ????

[gomzdrawfr]

yeah im a super big fan of cod, those fishes are reely big!

happy aprils fools yall

[noctxj]

hanahaki disease “… in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies…”

part i / part ii / part iii / part iv

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent who slowly withdraws from poly!tf141 after the first episode of bloodied flowers (realising they’re in love), from declining offers to relax in the rec room, accompany them to the local pub, or even working out in the gym to sparring.

agent knows that they’re not being subtle, see’s the guys try and figure what is going on with them. but agent refuses to let them find out—never.

agent who finally manages (after ensuring they wouldn’t hack up another flower) to file a notice, a formality really, to john— captain price, for their absence in the oncoming month or two. as there are no current operations needing agents’ immediate attention, its an opportunity for agent to get their other affairs in order after months being on base with the taskforce. 

john— captain price, briefly glancing at the document before focusing his ocean blue eyes to search agents (tired) face, a frown creasing between his full brows.

pleasedontlookatme—

whatdoyousee—?

the captain getting up from his seat to circle around his desk to stand before agent, his scrutinising gaze trying to catch agents downcast eyes.

pleasejohndont—

“this wouldn’t be about you pulling away from us recently hm?”

bullseye— 

agent could feel a thorn piercing the walls of her throat, their jaw tightening in response. a reaction john notices, his face softening as he reaches out to tip agents chin back to finally see his now gentle imploring eyes.

soblue—

“just don’t forget to come back to us, okay little love?”

little love. a pet name that simon (proudly) started to refer to agent amongst the taskforce (and no one else, lest they meet ghost in the middle of the night) while the others also followed suit—

“or would you rather shorty? or tiny even?” simon had smugly responded after seeing agents offended (blushing) face.

ugh that big oaf of a man, not everyone needs to be the size of an industrial fridge—!!

johnny and kyle chortling in the background, seemingly forgetting they’re suppose to be supervising the recruits’ training.

the pinch of another thorn dragging up their throat throwing agent back into the present.

“of course, captain.”

lies.lies.lies.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent whose kept a mental list of contacts who owe them favours, a debt that is finally being repaid: to find a cure for hanahaki disease. from the highest level of power and prestige in society, to the lowest trenches of the underworld. over the course of a few weeks, one by one, each contact falls short of delivering. but agent keeps digging. keeps searching.

there is never nothing. there has to be something somewhere. someone must have at least thought— until finally a contact (old friend) provides them with a lead. 

a doctor whose dedicated their life in medical research of hanahaki disease, searching for a cure— whispers that there is a cure. they’re located halfway across the world. but that doesn’t matter to agent, they’re leaving within an hour; flight booked and travel bag already packed.

washing the remnants of blood down the sink drain, tears wet on their cheeks. the episodes were happening more frequently.

agent is running out of time.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“… it can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear…”

agent feels drained as the doctors words echo in their mind even hours after agents abrupt appearance in the doctors office. one look into agents (desperate) eyes and the doctor already knew why they had come, offered tea to soothe their throat (wash the metallic taste away, even if temporarily).

agent immediately coughing out both the tea, then one bloodied rose— then two— three— and finally four, as agent reaches to rip the tangled thorns from the back of their throat, ignoring the screaming pain of thorns dragging out of their mouth and past their stinging pale lips. 

the doctors face stricken with worry and sadness, trying to wipe the blood from agents face and hands; disposing of the thorny flowers in a sterile bin. the doctor concluding that agent does not have much time to deliberate if they wish to proceed with the experimental procedure. an incredibly invasive surgery that may not completely cure the victim; follow up surgery’s may be required. 

being split open from larynx to diaphragm, sown back together, only to be split open again if a single flower is coughed back up.

agent acknowledges this. pain is pain after all—

whats more to add to the pile?

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

added some dialogue in this part compared to the first part. unedited, also like the first part. i know nothing about the complexities of surgery (google images my saviour) so don’t try to make sense of it haha.

thanks for reading!! ♡︎♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username!)

[arunneronthird]

two different flavors of absolute menace

[tanked-up]

A very much needed amount of Neil pictures everyone needs to see at least once in their life

[snikt111]

[sillylittlecapcutuser]

Graves sometimes forgets that Ghost didn’t have a good relationship with his family

[reds-skull]

Can't sleep, decided to paint Ghost

(Last version is how he looks when he uses his powers in Revenant AU btw)

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

The multilingual Green Lanterns (Jessica, Kyle, Simon) like to play a game of letting their rings translate their speech and seeing how long it takes other people to realize they’re not actually talking in English

In the Justice League, Batman and Martian Manhunter are usually the first to notice, the former because he can read lips and the latter because he can telepathically sense the mischief.

Superman and Wonder Woman, both polyglots themselves, have also picked up on the GLs’ little game on several occasions.

Flash might be catching on, he’s fast enough to catch the ever so slight delay between when the GLs start talking and the ring kicks in.

Captain Marvel is so far completely oblivious. The wisdom of Solomon may grant fluency in all languages, but apparently it only kicks in when Billy is aware that someone is not speaking English.

Zatanna knows, but that’s because she was the accidental inspiration for the game (she once hexed Guy to only be able to speak in French, but his ring made it seem like the spell failed).

[bunnyreaper]

welder!ghost au

After taking so many welding lessons from Simon and developing a crush, you decide to make him a little something to show your appreciation.

(f!reader, simon is a fucking weirdo, jealousy)

As soon as you'd set your mind to the idea, it wouldn't leave you.

Just like everything to do with Simon, it's buried its way into your brain and taken up residence there, gnawing away until you decide to do something about it.

How you're going to do it is something different, though. There's no way in hell you could get away with making something secret in Simon's workshop, right under his nose like that. That man is far too observant to let something like that slip by, and the surprise is part of the fun.

You want to show him everything you've learned from him, every moment that you've hung off of his every word and listened to everything he has to say, every time you've watched him work and absorbed his expertise.

You settle on a bracelet, braided stainless steel, each step made by your loving hands. Hopefully, he'll wear it, and hopefully, you can guess his wrist size properly--fucking massive isn't exactly a precise measurement.

It should take too long, not with everything he's taught you, and you can be back to working in his shop again instead of the one across the city with the guys he doesn't like. You wouldn't go there under any other circumstances, were the situation not desperate. And when you get there, you understand Simon's judgement completely, not that you ever doubted it to begin with. The guys are creepy, and they stare, as well as make comments that are misogynistic, flirtatious, or an outrageous mix of both.

You're on high alert almost the entire time you work, but you try to push it out of your mind in favour of making everything perfect for Simon. Each weld, each sand, each polish, has to be perfect for him because anything else would be doing his tutelage a disservice. You've seen the disappointed looks he's given some members of the classes when his mask is flipped up, but you'd never been on the receiving end--always so eager to please and impress. That won't change now. You won't allow it.

You braid the steel wire with a drill and a vice, cut the pieces you need, sand the ends and get to work on welding them together. It's delicate work, and your mind only slightly drifts to some of your lessons where Simon had lurked behind you, the heat of his body so close to yours as you worked.

You finish the edges and bend the metal to the desired shape, trying to imagine Simon's wrists as you work--which is surprisingly easy considering how much you've stared at that sleeve of his.

The second you finish, you bolt out of that horrid workshop, off in search of a nice box and some wrapping to finish off the gift. You had a session with Simon the following Monday, and it's then you'll present it to him--if you're feeling brave enough.

Monday rolls round, and the workshop is empty when you arrive, save for Simon working away in the corner. You can tell by the way his posture stiffens that he knows someone has entered, even over the noise of his work, because he's always so perceptive.

The box is in your hand, and your palms are starting to sweat as you call out to him. "Hey Si."

He finishes up what he's doing and makes his way over, setting his welding mask down and revealing his handsome features. "Just us tonight." His comment seems fairly inconsequential, but honestly, you preferred it that way, getting to be the sole focus of his attention.

You nod in response, knowing you should just get the gift giving out of the way so you can both get to work, but your stomach twists with worry. What if he hates it? What if he never wears it?

"What's that?" He asks, eyes flickering down and clocking the box and the source of your troubles immediately.

You thrust it at him, almost as if the box burns to touch. "A gift, for you, it's silly really, but I just wanted to say thank you for everything..."

For the lessons, for his attention, for never treating you as lesser.

He rips off his gloves before he gets to work on the wrapping paper, and peels open the jewellery box to see the steel band inside.

"If you hate it, it's fine. It's just a little token of my appreciation." You rush out your words--damage control.

His dark eyes flicker between you and the bracelet, his expression unreadable before he pulls it from the box and places it around his tattooed wrist. The fit is perfect, but his reaction isn't as his expression sours. "Where did you make this?"

"Huh?" You startle, as that wasn't what you expected to come from his mouth at all.

His eyes narrow, and you swear he takes a step closer. "You didn't make this in my shop. Where did you make it?"

Oh fuck, you think, realising you have to admit to stepping foot in that other shop. You avert your gaze as a sheepish expression overtakes your features. "Uh, PK's shop, I wanted to surprise you so, I went there..."

His hand grips your chin, forcing you to look him right in those stormy eyes. "You wanna make something for me? You make it in my shop, yeah? My student, my shop."

The possessive words make you shiver, make you want to fall for your knees, and beg for forgiveness for the unknowing betrayal.

"Yeah, okay, of course... I mean I hated it there, I swear, they gave me the absolute creeps." You try to laugh away the swirling guilt and discomfort you feel. "Left as soon as I was done, and even gave them a 1 star review. But, I'll never go back, I promise."

Your eyes shine up at Simon's, waiting for him to relax.

"That's my girl." Finally, his touch releases and he steps away, grabbing his gloves. "Let me finish up what I'm working on real quick, yeah?"

"Of course." You nod quietly, watching as he walks away as your stomach starts to sink. At least he didn't take it off. "Do you... like it?"

He stops still, checking out where it sits on his wrist. His expression doesn't change, but you can hear the sincerity in his words. "Love it."

And a week or two later, when Simon asks you to come by the shop one night outside of your sessions, you're not entirely sure what to expect.

He explains he's trying something new, and needs your help, and doesn't explain anything further. But it's Simon, so of course you comply, of course you trust him.

It's only when he brings out a micro welder and a small length of gold chain that you realise what's happening. The intense look in his eyes before he gets to work leaves no room for argument, and you silently accept your fate as he permanently attaches that little bracelet to your wrist--a dainty little 'S' charm hanging from the middle.

[krislgfox]

That's how sprunkis produce trust

I hc them all being ace's n not wanting to have any intimidation so, yeah, all the fankids kinda just spawned ><

Orig(found on Pinterest):

[xthescarletbitch]

here to express my disappointment that simon was not a romance option for markus

they should’ve kissed.