#others only on veeery special occasions lmao

[wikiangela]

you know, I love that because of Tommy we're using "Evan" more to refer to Buck, bc I genuinely like this name sooo much and Im so happy to see and hear it more 🥹

[alwaysshallow]

gorgeous, part 6

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

You come home with...special guest. (3,4k)

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A/N: I am SOOOO sorry uploading it to tumblr took so much time; my internet was in veeery bad place and later on, when it got better, i forgot lmao. also; new aesthetics on the posts, i hope you're gonna like it!! love

Being drunk as hell had its disadvantages.

"You're fuckin' unbelieveable," he said, and it seemed like he was almost disappointed that you asked for extending your adventure with him a bit.

"Come on, Simon." You tugged at his jacket, whining a bit, hoping that's gonna get him on your mercy. "You have to eat too, it's a perfect occasion."

And that was the disadvantage; the urge to eat something unhealthy. You had this desire more often than not, something inevitable on your ride back home. Kebab, McDonalds, Taco Bell, anything unhealthy and quick seemed like the best meal.

It wasn't different the night you were coming home from the gala, Soap still being your personal driver, now listening to your and Simon's ramblings if it was a good idea to drive to the nearest fast food restaurant.

Honestly, if you were him, you'd probably kick the two of you out of the car to sort it out, but Johnny always seemed too invested with drama to just give up so easily. Especially if it was something about his best friend.

"Already ate," he murmured, looking at you. “Can’t you just wait ‘till home?”

“You barely ate, liar. And, it won’t be the same, Riley.” You pointed at him, grinning a little, when he rolled his eyes, scoffing under his nose. Knowing his real surname brought you a lot of fun, considering that it fitted him more than basic “Harris”. “Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna sit here for years.”

“You’re so—”

“—you have somewhere to be, or you just like whining?”

He shook his head. “Whinin’ is my specialty, actually. Johnny, you see somethin’ ‘round us?”

“Right ‘n clear, LT.” Man chuckled, receiving a death glare from his comrade, but you? You were pretty satisfied that he agreed finally considering how hungry you felt, even if you ate something at the military gala.

“Something” was horrendous, though; as drinks were just spectacular, their food was pretty… basic, tasteless? A lot of meat that you certainly didn’t like in portions, meat that was the center of this gala. Maybe it was a preference (or being picky), but some vegetables to it, or something other than meat-centered food wouldn’t kill them to prepare, yeah?

At least, you thought this way. You were more creative with preparing food than they were.

Fifteen minutes later, you arrived; at this point, you didn’t even pay attention where you landed, what fast food restaurant it was, you just went outside before Simon did, hungry and tired of this evening, even if you were happy with you going. After all, every chance to get closer to this giant was a win.

That hurry could be your first mistake, since you didn’t even notice how your dress got stuck between the car's door when you closed it. The outcome? Ripped material, almost to your upper thigh.

“Fuck,” you groaned, suddenly getting sad about that dress. Not like you could wear it anywhere else, it looked too fancy and you wouldn’t have many occasions to represent it properly. But your whiny-alcohol self wasn't pleased when she was looking at the scene of the tragedy.

“What did you…” Simon frowned, his eyes darting from your face and the bottom of your dress, now not looking as good as it was before.

“Ripped it,” you explained it briefly, sighing to yourself, when you two entered the local. “I’ll just have to throw it in the trash later.”

He seemed genuinely confused. “Can’t buy a new one?”

You shook your head. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea, if I’d have somewhere to wear it. But I don’t, so it’s a sign that I should get rid of it, you know?”

Simon only hummed in response.

The two of you entered the restaurant and ordered food; or, it would be more accurate to say that you ordered and he, like a princess, took a seat near the window.

He still stayed with his “I don’t want anything” statement, so you took something for yourself and an additional burger, if he’d want to bite into something—you could say that you cared about him. Not only did he take you to the gala after Soap basically pranked the two of you (even if you seemed like a bigger loser in the outcome), but he also was here. Spending time that he could spend on anything else.

Cheesy thought, but you liked that he seemed genuinely pleased with your companion, even if it was something so simple.

And he wasn’t irritated with you being loud. Something that he should be praised for, honestly.

“Mm. This?” You pointed with your finger at the burger, completely not caring about messing your fingers. “This is food.”

“Not really a fan of fancy cookin’, then?” Ghost raised his eyebrow, chuckling, when you gave him a judgy look. “What? Simply askin’.”

“I am , but I prefer this. Or, cooking at home,” you explained, as you took a bite of your fries. Then, you grabbed a few, trying to offer them to him since he didn’t order anything. He shook his head. “What? Come on.”

“Not really hungry, dove.”

“Doesn’t seem like my problem, dove,” you said right back, shaking the fries between your fingers, expecting him to take it. “Come on, Riley, you can certainly be a good boy and take them.”

You were pretty satisfied when he leaned in your direction. You even moved food closer to his hand, just to make it easier for him to snatch the fries with his fingers.

But he did something entirely different than you thought, he just bit them, and when you couldn’t be more surprised, he munched them whole, his teeth lightly touching your fingers.

His teeth.

Touching your fingers.

In theory, it wasn’t anything particularly deep, something like this could happen with everyone, but your attention had the way Simon looked at you. Your gazes, locked in together, a spark in his eyes, like he was challenging you to do something about it. To have a reaction , just like he had you blushing earlier on.

You cleared your throat slowly, to move on to your diet coke with ice, now melted; just like your dignity. Probably if he’d ask you to come to his apartment, you’d agree without any resistance.

“Not gonna say anything?” He asked after a few seconds, tilting his head to the side. Cocky smile on his lips, knowing one; he wasn’t dumb after all, he noticed the way you looked at him, the way you reacted to things.

Very attractive, but very irritating as well, especially when you had enough embarrassments this evening. You didn’t need him being all cocky and shit.

“What, you need compliments? Scratching behind your ear?” You raised an eyebrow, trying to mess with his attitude. You didn’t want to make this game easier for him than it already was, it wouldn’t be in your character.

“Well, since you named me… what was the word? Good boy, mhm.” He nodded, slowly, like he was recalling it all. “Then, it would be only proper to be treated like I did somethin’ good.”

Cheeky bastard.

“Real smooth,” you murmured, barely keeping yourself from rolling your eyes at him.

When you stood up, Simon’s hand automatically went to the corner of the table; you raised an eyebrow at it, confused why he did it. You wanted to even joke about this, but the words died in your mouth, when your eyes met his, and you instantly knew .

Previously, you banged with your hip against it. Hurt like hell, and now he decided to…

You gulped, walking out of the restaurant with his hand around your waist, protectively. It was hard not to say anything about this, about this warm, bubbly feeling in your belly, but you decided it wasn’t the right time.

Especially when there was a third wheel in Soap’s form that could very easily disturb your moment, or observe everything, which would make the whole situation awkward. But, that feeling slowly melted away.

Your curiosity was bigger than trying to act like nothing happened. Your nature was just begging .

“Personal protection?” you asked in a low tone, glancing at him after ten minutes on the road. His eyes automatically went to you, and when he raised an eyebrow, confused a bit, you chuckled. “That hand on the corner of the table? And your hand on my waist?”

“Drunk ones need protection,” he murmured, shrugging. So casually, like it was nothing , even if you could feel the chemistry between you two, even in the car, when your gazes were crossed.

You tried to hide your amusement at his words. Like he tried to cover his care to not ruin the “big man from the military” facade. “Mhm. Whatever you say.”

“Callin’ me a liar, dove?”

You had to take a breath; his low tone, eyes on you, didn’t help. If it would only depend on you, you’d kiss him without thinking twice, but the enigma this man was, you had to hold yourself back.

Scaring him wasn’t even an option, not when you just got closer to him. Good things needed time and you were willing to give him all the time he needed.

“Just agreeing with you,” you replied, nudging him with your elbow. Simon raised his eyebrow, scoffing under his nose.

“Whatever you say,” he mimicked you.

You didn’t comment on this - just chuckled and looked out of the window, to appreciate the view.

Outside got really overwhelming for you though, when keeping your eyes open started feeling like a challenge - the aftermath of today and the last couple of days. Twelve hours of work with animals, stress coming up with a few operations you had to do and this gala just got to you, the want of a simple rest. And this alcohol in your system wasn't helping in this situation.

It could even put you to sleep more.

So, you just closed your eyes, trying to get them to rest for a moment, as you thought about today. You thought about the beauty of the old casino, all the people that were here, but most and for all, you thought about Simon Riley.

How he wanted to hide his little smile under this balaclava, but you caught it anyway, since you were aware that he was proud of himself. Being awarded in front of all those sergeants, captains, generals, knowing that you’re doing a damn good job and they could only be jealous. His special force, whatever he served in, was blessed to have him.

And God, you couldn’t get rid of the image of his eyes. His dark brown eyes, sparkling under that warm, orange light when he came to you after his medal was proudly put on his chest. Simon didn’t even look at anyone else in the room thanking him, his gaze was only on you, and for a few seconds, you thought you’re gonna kiss this man in a form of silent “congratulations”.

This would be a great idea, if you’d have more courage and knowledge that he won’t push you away in front of all these people. You didn’t, so you stuck just to a compliment and a smile; a kiss could come later, in the right moment, where you’d handle the possible disappointment of him telling you “no”.

After all, he was still an enigma. Puzzles to solve, where you lacked several of them, and even if you saw the whole picture, those pieces were needed to see the details.

Thoughts transformed into dream, ruined by sudden touch under your knees and on your neck; you opened your eyes wide, just to be welcomed with a quick, smooth sssh like it was supposed to calm you down. It kinda did, considering you estimated the situation slowly, acknowledging that you were right in front of your apartment. Simon handled the situation with you in his arms, as you were hugged to his chest with his jacket on you.

“Your number?”

"Hey, you can… put me down. I have legs, you know. And I'm heavy, and-"

His huff interrupted your blabbing, as you raised your eyebrow, almost offended by his behavior. "Y'think that you're heavy? Try to lift a dead man thrice your weight, completely on your own, then we'll talk. Not to mention, with military gear, so he was probably even heavier."

Well, in this comparison, you really seemed like a feather for Simon. He was big himself, full of muscles, he lifted heavier things, people, than you. "…drastic. But, I'll take it."

“Mhm. Your number?” he repeated the question, looking at you with urgency.

You sighed, defeated. “114b. Fourth floor, you have a lift if you’re gonna turn left right now.”

“Got it, dove.”

As uncomfortable it was for a few seconds, you got used to your presence on his arms. It was almost like you were the right fit for him, the way his arm easily fit under your knees. The difference between you two was pretty visible too, considering that his palm was almost the size of your head. A couple of inches and it would be there .

You couldn’t help but think of other places where you could compare him to you. A familiar heat appeared on your cheeks and you tried not to look at your company for a few seconds, ashamed.

“You never gave me a dance, actually,” you murmured. Almost inaudibly; a bit of shame went through you. It was better to ask these questions when you were wasted like shit, not when you were sobering up a little.

“A dance?” He raised his eyebrow, looking at you with confusion. Visible one, as he tilted his head, stopping right in front of your door.

“Something that you do on occasions like this one, you know.” You shrugged, as you grabbed your key from the purse, giving it to him. After turning it two times, you two entered the apartment.

“You sound disappointed,” he remarked, as he put you down, eyes observing you carefully. It seemed like he wanted to make sure, and it made the whole thing awkward even more.

“No, it’s…” you shook your head, praying to lord or whoever was listening to you, to make him drop the topic. You had enough humiliation today, you didn’t need another one.

Especially with something trivial, where your thoughts just flew out of your mouth before you even acknowledged the meaning behind them. The possible consequences of scaring him away because you wanted too much and he wasn’t the type to dance with someone.

Or to be closer with someone, in that matter.

To your surprise though, he took a few steps in your direction. “Do you want to dance with me?”

His ask made you gulp; you wanted to say that he’s not obliged to do this, lie that you don’t want it, but the look in his eyes… you just couldn’t lie. “I want to, but you probably have…”

“…just shut up”, he murmured, as he located his hands on the small of your back. Big hands, making you feel ridiculously small in comparison. “Play the music you like. From the phone, even.”

Despite feeling awkward, you picked out a song to play in the background; something slow, something that you can sway to, without being too pressed about making this perfect. Honestly, you just wanted his arms around you with good music to it, where the worries would simply go away. You thought he would have this effect on you.

And he had, despite being a little clumsy in dancing - you didn’t care about instructing him from time to time, as long as you had your head against his chest, eyes closed for a moment. You wanted to drown yourself in that pleasure, melt and never let go of this warmness that he gave you so easily.

You wondered if he was always this hot, a walking heater, or it was just tonight.

”My dance abilities are mortifyin’,” he sighed, right to your ear. Hot breath made you shudder a bit, as you acknowledged how close he actually was to you. Chest to chest level, level where you wouldn’t expect him to be.

The closest you were… was that one moment back in the clinic - you slipped, and he caught you. Things were different back then, more stiff and official than it was when he danced with you, not only because you knew a bit more about him.

You never would’ve thought that it’s possible to maintain contact with him, not with a man that felt like a ghost among others. Ghost that probably never looks back, never interacts with someone more than a couple of times, just for his egoistical needs. For a sense of calmness that he probably hasn't experienced in a long time because of his job - without people, in his own apartment, he had it. Maybe for a brief moment, but you were pretty sure that he had it somehow.

Surprisingly, iit got to the point that you went to a military gala with him, it got to the point where he recommended you a mechanic, it got to the point where you met his comrades. Completely accidentally, but still. For some reason, you felt like something was working for the first time, and you couldn’t be more happy; it felt like you tamed him, if a man like him was capable of that. Of becoming… a home cat. Home cat that scratches you from time to time, but he’s around anyway.

You got him to trust you enough. If it wasn’t a gift, you didn’t know what it was.

“You’re doing great, actually,” you chuckled under your breath, hands comfortably around his neck. Eyes locked with his rich brown, staring so carefully into yours, like he was trying to see something between them; and you’d let him, if only he wanted to.

Simon’s lips opened for a moment, until it quickly closed again with a curse, his foot crashing yours

You hissed with pain, your teeth biting into your lower lip. This man had power in his legs without even trying , you could only guess how strong it could be if he’d do it on purpose.

Simon tried to back off, but you didn’t let him, your fingers snaking around his hand to let him know that you, pretty much, didn’t care.

“That much of doin’ great, dove,” he sighed, looking down at you. “Not made for dancing.”

“You’re made for other activities, though. Sure of that,” you whispered out, as you wrapped your hands around his neck again when his hands got back at your waist. The innuendo, completely not planned by you, hit you the moment he raised his eyebrow with curiosity. The spark in his brown eyes was evident, when the heat of your words dawned on your cheeks. “I didn’t mean it that way—”

“—surely.” He chuckled, tilting his head to the side. You wondered how he was so cocksure all the time; was he like this from the start, or something, someone shaped him this way? “Tell me, would you like to test it? My other activities ?”

You were pretty sure that if he wouldn’t drop the attitude he had, you’d faint on spot. “You’re so insufferable, Riley. I swear to God. Should we stop dancing, then?”

Something ignited in him when you said that; he didn’t waste any more time, just started slowly swaying with you again. “And they are tellin’ me that I don’t have sense of humour.”

“Well. Maybe it's the elite one,” you snickered. As you felt a sudden wave of fatigue going through your body, you rested your cheek against his chest, hoping that he wouldn’t say a thing about you doing this again . Or, wouldn’t push you off, at least. “You could tell me some, if you want to. Jokes, I mean.”

“Could I…” he muttered. His grip around you tightened more, his hands going up and down your spine, making you feel at home in his arms. You suddenly didn’t need a bed to rest, a couch or anything else. Simon’s arms were enough. “Maybe I could. But I don’t know if you have ‘elite humour’, you know.”

“I might have, if those jokes aren’t about Americans being the worst people alive,” you chuckled, looking up at him with a smile, when you heard that he laughed too.

“They are, though.” He shrugged, locking eyes with you again. “But you’re the exception to the rule, dove.”