#situationship!ghost

[yawnderu]

Situationship!Ghost seeing you cry for the first time while having sex save me...... save me Situationship!Ghost seeing you cry for the first time while having sex

His hips halt the moment he sees you're not fully into it, the same eyes that used to look up at him with raw admiration are now distantly looking at the ceiling with a familiar gloss in them, your moans timed and fake. He slowly pulls out of you, pulling the blanket over your naked bodies, yet keeping his distance.

''What is it?'' He asks with a small sigh, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why you even initiated things if you're not even into it.

''I'm sorry— I can't do this.'' Your attempts to get up are interrupted by Simon pulling you back into bed, one hand gently grasping your jaw to make sure you're looking directly at him even when your vision gets blurry and the dam finally breaks. Cruel bastard he is, wanting to see you cry.

The sound of your sobs rips into his heart without hesitation. There isn't another sound he hates more. You should be laughing, the giggles that secretly make him so happy should be coming out of you rather than these loud sobs. He knows you're in pain— he knows he's the one who caused it, and he can't forgive himself for hurting someone he loves so much, even when he hasn't come to terms with it.

His arms wrap around your body, one of his warm hands running up and down your back and squeezing you tightly against his body, feeling the mix of warm tears and snot wet his bare chest. It breaks his heart to feel the way you cling to him in a state of such brokenness, the way you trust him so much despite all his failures and mistakes.

'''M sorry, angel. I'm so sorry.'' He whispers right into your ear, his apologies only for you to hear as he rocks you from side to side, gently wiping the tears from your eyes with the palm of his hand. He doesn't have any other words for you, only the silent reassurance that you'll always be safe in his arms.

[imshymorph]

Okay so, after a few months, i’m back with something that was supposed to be a blurb and ended up being almost 2.9k words (added a full 100 words when editing, oh well).

It’s Situationship!Ghost, specifically angsty situationship ghost. (i have a full bullet point list with headcanons for this ghost and i’ll probably write more at some point) . Anyway, enjoy!

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You had seen him quite a few times before, although you barely knew him. He lived across from you, the door on the other side of the hallway. Hardly had known anything about him, that his name was Simon –something you only had discovered when his mail had been left in your mailbox by accident– and he was military.

However, somehow since that day, the fateful day that you had taken what seemed to be a letter from the bank, the two of you had started to talk more often. It didn’t start as anything crazy, but at least now he would say “hello” when you both were in the hallway, coincidentally leaving or going back to your respective flats at the same time.

It had slowly evolved over time, happening over the expanse of full months with how little he seemed to be home. From just a greeting to some small talk, be it a comment about the weather when the mancunian skies delivered nothing but rain day after day here; or perhaps a remark on how expensive everything seemed to be lately when you walked back home with a bag of groceries there.

What really made all of it change though, was when Simon got sent home for a medical leave after a close call in a mission, a bullet almost lodged in his lungs. He didn’t know why, but having to stay out of the field was much harder than any other time, he was much more restless. The feeling was only made more obvious when he started to go in and out much more, busying himself with little tasks or just taking walks. It meant that your meetings in the hallway happened more and more often.

When you had discovered why he seemed to be home for so much longer than usual you had insisted on helping him out, getting things from the store for him, bringing him home cooked meals and mainly keeping him company. By the time he had gone back to the field, you spent more nights a week on his side of the hallway than your own.

That’s when he realised, when he really noticed the way a smile would pull at his lips when he noticed something you had left back at his place. The way his heart would flutter when you’d smile at him and offer some biscuits you had just baked. Or the way he’d stare a hole through the helicopter wall while the whole task force was on their way to a mission, earning himself some teasing from Johnny and Gaz and a discreet knowing look from Price.

He realised that he had started to count the days until his next leave and that he didn’t think of going to his own place, but going back to you. That’s when he decided this was needed.

He opened the door as you were walking out of your place, carrying dinner to his place like you did every Friday when he was on leave, a smile pulling at your lips as you greeted him with a kiss to the corner of his lips before walking in. He had been home for a while now, chastising himself every day that went by, letting you come into his space again and again when he knew what he really had to do.

He closed the door, taking the container from your hands and taking it to the kitchen. You were about to follow him, meaning to keep him company and have a chat –although most of the time it was you talking and telling him stuff about your day while he hummed and grunted in acknowledgement, happy to get lost in your soft voice–. Instead he guided you back to the living room, signalling for you to take a seat on the couch. “Simon…?” you began to say, confusion evident in your voice and the slight furrow of your brows.

“We need to talk,” he said before you could finish your question. His voice gruff and low, eyes cold and distant. He sat across from you, all the way on the other corner of the couch, his expression unreadable.

And that’s when you knew, when those four little words left his lips. You weren’t stupid, you had definitely noticed. They way he’d be more distant, more short with you. How the small conversations in the hallway had got shorter until they had gone back to just greetings, or just a nod of the head. The way he had stopped lingering when he was at yours until you offered for him to stay, instead rushing through dinner before leaving with whatever excuse came to mind. Or how he seemed to find excuses to make you leave his place sooner and sooner each day.

What you hadn’t noticed but were definitely seeing now was the difference in his eyes. The warm glow that had been there for the last bunch of months completely gone. Instead there was a cold and distant look, a wall that you hadn't seen since you had first moved into the building, now placed between you once more.

Silence sits between the two of you and it only breaks when he says the words you had been bracing yourself for, “we can’t do this anymore.” You barely give a light nod, your eyes lowering to the coffee table that sat not too far away.

You didn’t know what else to do but to give in, deep down you knew you had been waiting for this, doing everything you could to push the moment back even if it was for a little longer. But if you were honest with yourself, you had known this would happen all along, this whatever it was meant to be, was bound to end sooner or later.

His eyes boring into you didn’t make any of this easier. But he couldn’t help himself, because a part of him had hoped that you’d get angry and finally say what he had known all along. That you would get up and call him out for thinking he ever deserved to be with you, for even daring to think he deserved any of your tenderness and care, or your attention.

Instead of anger, all he saw in your eyes was defeat and hurt, and it only made his chest feel more tight and heavy with guilt. He couldn’t deal with it, with how much it hurt to be the one to make you look so hurt and defeated. So he just doubled down. A light huff leaves him and he runs a hand over his face, his tone a little more gruff and demanding when he talks again, “why aren’t you saying anything?”, his eyes boring into you once more as he waits for your answer.

It takes a moment, but you finally push out the words that are constantly cycling through your head, “because I knew this was going to happen,” you admit quietly. “Noticed the distance”, you add as your eyes lower to the coffee table once more and your fingers start to play with a loose thread on your clothes, “guessed you’d get tired of me, sooner or later.”

Simon was used to handling pain, he thought he could manage any kind after all the suffering he had gone through already. But something about the light crack on your voice, the defeated tone and self-deprecating words. The way you were convinced he could ever grow tired of you when he was the one undeserving of your time. It made his heart break and a hatred for no one but himself filled him.

He clenched his fists on his sides, having to hold back. Hold back from the way he wanted to grab you in his arms and hold you close. Hold back from pulling you into his lap and kiss you time and time again until you forgot his stupid words. He wanted to hold you all night long, worship you and prove that he could never get tired of you, that he would never leave you, that he didn’t mean any of it. That he loved you.

But instead, once more, he doubled down. “I think it’s for the best…” he barely makes the effort to justify. Your only answer is another small nod, your eyes that had braved enough to look up at him, lowering back to your lap. You focus on the way your fingers fidget with the loose thread and swallow thickly, doing your best to keep at bay the knot that closed up your throat, fighting back the tears that so badly wanted to form.

If his heart hadn’t shattered before, it definitely had now. The sight of you across from him, the distance on the couch between you both as you refused to look at him. He hated this, hated to see you in this state and hated even more that he was the one to cause all of this. He wanted to take all of it back, to apologise and beg for you to forget all of this and just have dinner with him like you did every friday. But he couldn’t.

“I guess I'll pack my things then,” you say, barely audible with how the tears strain your voice. You don’t wait for an answer, getting up from the couch and moving through the quiet flat. You get the toothbrush you had left in his bathroom, the few staple skincare items he had insisted would be easier to have a duplicate off.

His eyes followed you, the hollow on his chest only growing with every item you plucked up and added to the totebag you had forgotten on his couch just a couple days ago. He wanted to go to you, to hold your hands and get on his knees. To beg you to stay and spare his sinful soul from having to live another day without you.

Still, he stayed seated on the couch. His soul bleeding and body numb as he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but follow your movements with his eyes. He saw all of it, how you kept yourself from crying, taking the few sleep shorts and extra shirts you had left behind. How the tears had been too much to hold back when you’d come back from the kitchen, a pile of empty food containers in your hands.

When you got all of it and went to the door he finally managed to get up, just taking a couple steps closer but still staying far, distant. He had to, he had to keep the distance. Because he knew that he got closer his selfishness would win, and he’d pull you into his arms and never let you go.

You take in a deep, shaky breath. Your hand reaches out for the knob, but before you twist it open you look at him. Your cheeks and nose are rosy and the teartracks are more than evident. “Can I ask you something?” you risk, even if you know that whatever the answer maybe would only make it worse.

He gives a light nod almost instantly, taking a deep breath as he prepares himself. He probably was as fragile and unready as you were for the answer, but he owed you this –this and much more, because he had just taken and taken this whole time–. So his tone is honest when he answers with a gruff “anything.”

You take a moment, needing to take in another shaky breath, trying to find his eyes through the tears that blur out the vision of yours. And before you could regret even thinking about it, you talk again. “...Did I do something wrong?”

If Simon thought he knew what guilt and pain felt like, he had been proven wrong right this instance. His stomach churning and his chest feeling tight and hollow as he hears the way you blame yourself, the way you sound so uncertain and fragile. “No.” he states, firm.

You barely nod, lips trembling as you press them together to hold back a sob. Silence sits between the both of you once more, you try to blink the tears away but it only makes them fall faster. “T-then what happened?” you muttered, barely able to get the words out, swallowing thickly when your voice cracks.

He feels like he’s drowning, his chest burning with guilt as he sees the way you’re trying to stay strong and hold the tears back yet failing. He’s about to say it, about to tell you the whole truth. About to say how he’s fallen for you, how your soft smiles and soft touches make him feel like a new man. How your care and attention make him feel like he’s alive, how he’s Simon and not Ghost. He’s about to confess how much he loves you.

He’s so close to saying that what happened was him. That he was a bastard and a murderer, that he wasn’t who you thought he was –who he had tricked you into thinking he was– and he didn’t deserve anything from you. That he had been selfish this whole time and had been taking advantage of you. What happened was that you deserve much better than the ghost of a man he really was.

Instead he doesn’t say any of it, only the vaguest excuse starting to leave his lips, “it’s not you…” His words cut off when he sees your eyes close, your lips closing tightly and your shoulders shaking with a silent sob. Your head lowering to uselessly trying to hide it, the way his words sound –and are– a shit excuse, the way it just makes you feel that much more heartbroken.

He doesn’t dare try to come up with more excuses, instead ripping his eyes away from you, not able to handle the way you’re falling apart in front of him. He instead busies himself with looking around the room, checking if there’s anything you may be forgetting behind. “You have everything?” he asks, forcing himself to look at you again.

And you take a shaky breath, ignoring the way your chest tightens and your heart bleeds at the softer and more caring tone in his voice. You force yourself to ignore the way he sounds just like he did barely a few weeks ago, holding back the plea for him to rethink all of this that burns the back of your throat. Instead, “Should be… And if there’s something else, you can just throw it out.”

You don’t even look at him, eyes instead focused on the blurry sight of his black combat boots and the hardwood floors beneath you. And he hates it, he hates how quiet and weak your voice is, hates that you can’t hold his gaze. But most of all hates that he’s the one to cause all of this. In what he was trying to convince himself was an effort to spare the both of you, he delivers the last blow, “you should go.”

You don’t say anything, biting down on your lip probably hard enough to break the skin in a last ditch effort to hold back the sob that so desperately wants to leave you. You turn around, adjusting the pile of things you had retrieved from all around the flat in your arms to be able to reach for the handle.

Despite knowing it will break you, you look over your shoulder, red-rimmed and tear-filled eyes meeting his for the first time since the conversation started –and for what Simon knows will probably be the last time ever–. “Take care,” you murmur quietly, adjusting all the stuff crowding your hands once more. Without another word or another look back you pull the door open, closing it behind you just a moment later, leaving him alone in the silent flat.

Simon stays frozen for a moment, he feels like he’s outside of his own body when he sees all of it play out, eyes boring into the dark wood of his door once it’s closed. Your words seem to echo in his head, the way you still talk to him with so much softness and care after he had stomped your heart. He only manages to move when he hears the quiet click from across the hallway that signifies that you’re back in your place, away from him like you should’ve always been.

He takes his phone out, sending a message to one of the few numbers saved there, telling Price he needs to be back in the field. After, he goes to the kitchen, desperate for a glass of whiskey that could never be as bitter as he feels right now. His phone pings with Price’s reply, but he doesn’t look at it, nor does he get a glass or the bottle of whiskey.

Because instead, he stands frozen, seeing the dinner you had brought over, still sitting on his counter. And that’s when it really dawns on him, this is it, it’s over. You were out of his life, and all because he had been too much of a coward to admit the truth. Too much of a coward to admit that he loves you.

[bambisspeckles]

Disasterology {BD!Simon}

Chapter Two: Who We Are

*pics for aesthetic purposes only

CW: simon is here (yay!), duel pov, insecurities (simon and reader), angst, allusions to depression, bad scottish slang (sorry johnny ilysm), probable inaccurate representation of the military (i'm tryin), mentions of terminating pregnancies, simon is a supportive king, general angsty emotions (it's not too bad imo), bad british slang (what can I say I'm american), mildly edited! lmk if i missed anything <3

WC: 2.2K (oopsie!)

Summary: You finally tell Simon you're pregnant and his reaction isn't what you expect. Now the both of you have to try and navigate this new normal, and your new strange relationship.

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In the following days since your appointment you've had some time to think. Simon has been out on deployment for a couple weeks and according to him, through sparse communication, he's supposed to be deployed for a couple more. That gives you enough time to gather your thoughts, somewhat anyways, and figure out how to tell him.

You decide not to mention anything to him while he's away, but Simon isn't stupid and he knows something is up. He's asked you, practically begged you, to tell him what's up, but no matter how much he asked you always ended up brushing him off, telling him it's nothing to worry about. At a certain point he just kind of stopped asking, a common game between the two of you. The obgyn's office had called you back a few days after your initial appointment about your results in regards to your bloodwork.

Unsurprisingly your bloodwork had confirmed you're pregnant too.

At this point in time your fear and emotional pain had faded and you just became kind of, numb. You didn't have time to be scared, not right now anyways. You went to have a follow up appointment with Doctor Green, just a general assessment of your health and the baby's health. She had told you you're about four, almost five weeks along in your pregnancy. The thought had your stomach churning around a bit.

Now that you've had a pregnancy conformation appointment and a follow up appointment you had enough medical 'evidence' to show Simon when he got back. Just in case he didn't believe you, just in case he tried to deny what you tell him. Honestly you don't know if you could handle that. You feel bad, guilty even, you know it's not really your fault you're pregnant, but jumping him with such a serious situation once he gets back feels almost selfish to you. Though you won't admit it aloud, there's also a part of you that feels relived at the thought of finally getting to tell him, even if his reaction is bad, at least it won't be weighing on your conscious any longer.

You don't want him to react badly though, you hope he won't.

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Simon hadn't felt a dread like this in a long time. He's been away for a few weeks at this point and he doesn't know if he can handle being away from you any longer. Not now anyways. He's noticed a shift in you, in your behavior, you're hiding something from him and it's making him sick to his stomach. Maybe you're breaking things off, maybe when he gets back you'll tell him you can't do the weird song and dance that happens between the both of you and that you want nothing to do with him.

Or maybe you'll tell him you've found someone else, someone who will give you all the time and energy that you want and need, that the weird vagueness of the relationship you have together has pushed you into the arms of someone else. He wouldn't blame you if you left, he knows that you want to settle down, that you want to settle down with him, and he knows the fact that he won't is starting to pull the two of you apart.

He groans softly into the darkness of the safehouse. He misses you, his sweet girl, his sweet girl whom he selfishly clings to. He's worried you'll leave and he has no right to be, he doesn't deserve you, he doesn't deserve to call you his.

"Lt?" Soaps voice rumbles through the darkness. "Ye alrigh' Lt?"

"M' fine Johnny, why are you up?" Simon's voice comes out more agitated than he meant.

"Aye, no need tae bare ye claws Lt. S' my turn tae take watch." Johnny holds his hands up in surrender, even though he's sure Simon can barely see him do it.

Simon lets out a deep sigh, his hands dragging down the fabric of his skull print balaclava.

"My bad Johnny, S' a little stressed is all. It'll work itself out m' sure, don' worry." The way he speaks convinces neither him nor Johnny that he believes what he's saying.

"Is it ye bird?" Johnny says quietly as he sits down on the fold out chair next to Simon, not wanting to wake the others.

"She's not my bird, dunno' how many time I gotta say that." Simon rolls his eyes as Johnny lets out a chuckle.

"Ye say she's not, but I ken the ye look at her Lt. Not foolin' anyone, even Captain' Price as' mentioned it." Johnny eyes follow Simon's hands as he lights a cigarette. "Tell me what's wrong with ye Lt."

Simon takes a drag out of his cigarette, blowing out the puff of smoke before speaking again, the need for sleep and rest thick in his voice.

"I thin' she want's to leave, been actin' strange she but won' talk to me…" He tilts his head back as he speaks.

"Dinnae wan' her tae leave do ye?" Simon shakes his head. "Then don't let the lass go." Johnny stands up from the chair, slapping Simon on the shoulder strongly before picking up his gun and walking outside to take his post.

God he hates when Johnny is right.

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Your stomach is churning. Simon had flown back in a couple days ago and had some things to take care of on base but he assured you that he'd seen you soon, and fuck you didn't realize how soon, 'soon' actually was. A few hours ago your phone a chimed and a notification from Simon had popped up, the message short enough to reveal itself on your lock screen.

"Home soon. Be there in a few hours".

That message had brought back every feeling of fear and dread that you had been pushing deep down within these last few weeks. His message hit you like a fucking freight train, he was back, he was here, and now you have to face reality and tell him you're pregnant. Pregnant with his kid. It was scary, so god damn scary. Your hands were shaking wildly and in order to keep from passing out you forced your body to pace back and forth in your small apartment.

He'd be here any minute. Within the next hour you could lose him, your desperate and selfish hold on him all being in vain because he might just leave anyways. All those months of settling and ignoring the desperate tugging feeling of heart, it's all about to be thrown in the trash. What will you do if he leaves? What will you do if he doesn't? Every single suppressed notion coming to smack you in the face.

A soft thud brings you out of your spiral, but it's not just a thud. It's a knock. A knock at your door. Simon is here, outside of your door, waiting.

Fuck.

You walk over to the door with unsteady legs, your sweaty hands shaking on the knob as you pull the door open. On the other side, as expected, was Simon, a look of worry written on his face. You can't blame him, if you had been on his end of this you'd be worried too. Things were about to get a whole lot worse, for the both of you.

"Hi." You wheeze out.

"Hi sweetheart…" There's a long pause as he awkwardly stands in your doorway, mindlessly shifting on his feet. "Are you okay? You look sick…"

You are sick, you think. You're worse. You don't dare say that though, not yet.

"I'm.." You drag out the word for a painfully long time before swallowing thickly. "I need to talk to you actually.." You notice how he grows even more stiff at your words.

There's a part of you that desperately wants to offer him comfort, to tell him it's nothing serious and that everything's alright. Unfortunately, as unfair as it is to the both of you, you can't give him that reassurance. All you would be doing then is lying. Instead you move out the middle of the doorway and gesture for him to come inside. He obliges, nodding softly at you before dragging his feet inside your flat.

"Do you.. do you want a drink?" You'll need one, is what you want to follow up with.

"No." His answer is short and gruff, the way it always is when he's shutting down, when he's anxious. His eyes follow your figure as you place a teabag into a hot cup of water, presumably making a drink for yourself.

He walks over to a small coffee table and sits down, the chair dragging across the floor before his comically large figure restlessly tries to settle into it. You take the seat across from Simon, your thumbs fiddling together where they meet on the mug. There's a long beat of silence as Simon waits for you to speak, his dark eyes scanning every micromovement you make.

"Sweetheart, wha's wrong? Why ave' you been actin' so strange?" You can tell there's more he wants to ask, wants to say. If only you knew what it was, if only you could coax the words out of him yourself.

"Simon… I-" You pause, taking a deep, labored breath, while fidgeting with the teabag in your cup for a few moments.

"I'm pregnant Simon."

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Out of all the things Simon 'Ghost' Riley expected to be told by you once he got back, you being pregnant was not one of them. Your words send him into a complete state of shock, and if it weren't for the sharp, short breaths he was releasing every so often, you might've thought the news killed him. You're staring at him expectantly, you want him to say something, react in some way, any way, but all he can do is stare at you with big, dumb, wide eyes.

"Are you going to say something?" Simon can see how fearful you are for his reaction but even then there's a bite in your voice. You're desperate for him to do something.

After a few more moments of Simon pathetically floundering around every word known to him in his head, he can finally string together a sentence.

"Is it mine?" Wrong thing to say Simon. Your face scrunches up unpleasantly and you throw him a nasty, teary-eyed glare.

"Of course the baby is fucking yours Simon!" The way you speak is exasperated. "I'm not going out whoring myself around to anyone with a dick!"

"I'm not sayin' you are I just-" You angrily cut him off, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks.

"Is that really the first fucking thing you say? The only thing you're fucking worried about?" He cringes in response to your words, he didn't mean for it to come out sounding as bad as it did.

"No, no. Of course not, I didn't mean to insinuate anything sweetheart, you know I'd never do that." His response seems to calm you down a bit, well as calm as you can be right now, because that fury in your eyes burns out.

There's more silence, more staring. Neither of you know what to say or what this means. What to do. Simon is once again the one to break the silence, clearing his throat lowly before speaking once more.

"Are you… keeping it?" He immediately winces at his wording, mentally kicking himself for referring to a, possible, future human as 'it.'

"The baby I mean," He clarifies. "Are you keeping the baby?"

"I don't know." The way you answer so helplessly has his heart clenching.

"I'm scared Simon. I don't know what I want or what to do and-" Your tears start to fall again. "And I can't do this all alone…"

Simon's heart fucking breaks. Alone? Did you not want him part of this? Or even worse did you think he was just going to up and leave you? Simon may be a bad man, a cruel man even, but he'd never leave you. Not now, not like this.

"You don't have to do it alone…" The words coming out uncharacteristically soft from him. Your eyes flick up to meet his. "No matter wha' you choose I'll be here to support you." He sees some of the tension leave your shoulders at that.

"Maybe, but even then, no matter what I do things will change." Your hands come up to wipe the remaining tears off your face.

"If I keep the baby we'll be in some weird co-parenting relationship and you'll have a kid you never even wanted, but if I don't have the baby then…" Your voice trails off.

"Then wha'?" His deep voice speaking the words gingerly.

"I don't know Simon… I'd like to sit here and pretend that we'll figure things out but it's complicated both ways. We're not even together now and we're just supposed to have a baby? I mean you don't even want kids! There's just so much to consider and it's all so much. I don't-" Simon reaches across the table to lay his hand over yours, the rough, calloused feeling of his fingers causing you to pause.

"We will figure it out." There's an assured air to his words, though neither of you entirely believe them.

You let out a shaky breath as your gaze meet his, your lashes clumped together and your eyes red and swollen.

"Okay."

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I genuinely loved writing this part!! i tried to write a lot from simon's pov because he wasn't really in the first chapter and I felt bad LMAOO!! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter my loves :3 Likes and reblogs are appreciated asss always and thank you for your support! I love you, kisses, mwah mwah <3

[wanologic]

fortunately, or unfortunately, they only see each other like 3 times a year…

[endotwrites]

thinking about situationship!simon who accidentally got you pregnant and instead of being his usual distant self who comes over for a quick fuck and leaves, is now basically living in your house and taking care of you. dishes are done, laundry is folded and it’s barely 10am. meanwhile, you waddle around trying to vacuum when simon seizes it from your hands, immediately scolds you with a tut and tells you off.

“back to bed, tired of telling you twice.”

part two

picture from pinterest!

a/n: a little bedtime drabble, goooodniiighttt :) xx

[noxcheshire]

A one sided crack ship I suddenly got in my delirious hungry state, and need to throw it up so here you go

Joker x Danny

But its JOKER whose one sided feelings for Danny who is really trying his best to ignore this weird clown mf

I was thinking that it could either be actual ‘oh no I have a crush on this guy’ OR Joker being liminal enough and ghostly enough to sense the otherworldliness of Danny Fenton. An otherness that Joker just wants. Like a hungry, starved beast that had finally found a proper meal instead of the bone scraps he’s been trying to scrap off of Batman.

He doesn’t even realize what it is he wants either, only that he wants to pull Danny’s skin back and nestle inside.

Danny on the other hand knows, he’s gone through a few ghostly sessions to understand that Joker is starved, and empty, and already half mad from hunger that he is willing to try and grab a fully loaded half ghost that could still kick his ass.

I just like the idea of everyone’s horror pov of the Joker trying to attract this one civilian guy and Danny just being annoyed by this one scraggly alley cat trying to gnaw on his arm.

[ceilidho]

situationship!Ghost saying this and then 12 hours later he’s cupping your face and looking deep into your eyes while fucking you and saying shit like “you were made for me”

[stuckinapril]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling

[chortlebot]

this took me a whole hour i

[yawnderu]

Which cod men can, from your personal point of view, totally see sex and love has two different things?

Like we all know that not all men understand the difference between making sex and love

I think Situationship!Ghost is a prime example that love and sex are two different things. He doesn't love you— hell, he might not even see you as a friend, but you're still someone he trusts enough with his body, to let you see him when he's most vulnerable.

Situationship Ghost is not for the weak. He doesn't make love, he fucks, seeing it as a way to blow off some steam after a tiring mission, leaving right after cumming and just doing his own thing for the rest of his short leaves, only seeking you out whenever he's horny and wanking doesn't do the trick. If you're not attached to him, it's even better for both of you, simply two people who talk to each other the moment they want to fuck.

[cookiepie111]

Ghost the little creep likes to watch you on your nights out following you into your home, watching your sleeping form, chest raise, and fall peaceful. He sighs at the sight of you, half laying on the bed, messy hair, shoes still on. He moves to knell at the end of bed, taking your shoes off, tucking you into bed. It's cute, sweet, probably the most 'normal' thing he's done. You stir in your sleep, feeling a figure next to you. "Fun night out?" He asks. It's suddenly a lot less fun when you're kicking and punching at the blurry figure that's made its way into your bed. It takes forever for him to finally calm you down, recognise its him, finally opening your eyes properly to get a better look " oh it's you" is all he gets before you drop back to bed with him covered in scratches and mask half way off his face. He's too annoyed now to think you look cute sleeping, grumbling into your neck as he lays beside you

[bambisspeckles]

Disasterology {BD!Simon}

Chapter One: Cry, Cry

*pics for aesthetic purposes only!

CW: no simon this part (kinda) (sorry), fem!reader, mentions of p in v sex and oral sex but no actual sex scenes, mentions of blood, urine, and needles but all in medical context, mentions of terminating pregnancies (no actual termination happens), angst, simon got commit issues rn lowk, age gap but it's unspecified so you make it up, reader has anxiety (projecting), probable inaccurate representation of OGBYS/gynos, mildly edited! lmk if i missed something <3

WC: 1.9k (i genuinely didn't mean to make it this long!!)

Summary: You and Simon have a complicated relationship, he's not your boyfriend and he's definitely not just your friend, but what happens when he ends up being the father to your child?

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You like Simon, honestly you do, and you're sure he likes you too. I mean he must to some degree if he's kept you around this long. You're just not sure he wants you. He dances around any conversation pertaining to making thing serious with you, committing to you. It's honestly confusing, he acts like a boyfriend, you go out on dates, he runs errands with you, and he stays over at your place more often than he stays at his. It all feels serious, it all feels like fidelity, but no matter how much you try to bring it up he brushes past the conversation. He'll shut you up with a kiss before dropping to his knees and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

It'd piss you off more if he didn't make you feel so good.

Eventually you stopped bringing it up all together, even though you wanted more with him, to be with him seriously, you were content to continue your arrangement in order to keep him in your life. You told yourself things were fine, and they were, you were with him and he was with you, and as long as you ignored the tugging at your heart then they would continue to be fine.

Unfortunately, for you, things can never be that simple.

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It started when you missed your period.

You didn't think much of it at first, you've missed your period before and both you and Simon have always been very careful to use protection when you had sex, so you didn't really think there was anything to worry about. You just figured your period was a little late this month, not a big deal, it happens.

That was until a few more weeks went by and you were still missing that awful pain in your gut. You kept telling yourself to wait it out a few more days and it'll come but it never did. Eventually you turned to google, looking on different forums and sketchy women's health blogs for answers and advice. Of course, most of the results just told you that you were probably pregnant but you avoided those answers, you and Simon use condoms, you were careful, there is no way you could be having a baby.

You decided that your period had just skipped for the month and it would come back next month. Everything was going to be fine. Days and days went by but nothing you've googled or told yourself was easing your anxieties. Simon noticed the change in your behavior and, in his own strange way, asked if everything was alright. You brushed him off, telling him it was stress from work. Honestly the last thing you needed was to freak him out by telling him you might be pregnant with his baby.

What a fucking mess that would be.

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You're worried. With each passing day you're becoming more and more convinced there's a baby inside you. Every morning you wake up feeling violently ill, you're bloated, weepy, and seemingly every food item on the planet makes you nauseous. All early signs of pregnancy.

Fuck you can't be pregnant, god you hope you're not.

You consider going to some random drug store to pick up some pregnancy tests but you don't think you could stomach doing that on your own, no pun intended, and you definitely don't want to involve Simon yet, especially if you're not pregnant. No point in stressing him out over nothing. What you hope is nothing.

You resolve to make an appointment and get tested through an OBGYN instead of taking an at home test yourself. Their tests are more accurate so you won't have to go through the trouble of possibly dealing with false positives… or false negatives. Your voice shakes throughout the entire phone call, it's not a long call but somehow it feels like the longest conversation you've had in your life. When the call ends and the line goes quiet you find yourself saying a prayer for the first time.

God, please don't let me be pregnant.

When the day of your appointment arrives you're extremely nervous and fidgety, your stomach is churning so much it's making your head spin, and you're worried if your heart beats any faster you'll end up having a heart attack. The whole clinical feel of the waiting room doesn't ease your anxieties any less either. The women at the front desk hands you a clipboard after you check-in and explains that you need to fill some papers out before you see the doctor. It doesn't take long to fill the papers out, just some general health questions and the reasoning behind your visit, though you're sure the doctor will ask the same questions again.

Soon enough, you name is called out by a nurse and you walk towards her with shaky legs. She leads you through a small hallway, making quiet conversation with you all the way to the examination room, though you're not entirely sure if you ever even answered her, you're thoughts to fogged up to conversate. She seems to understand.

"Here we are," She says as the both of you slow in front of a sky blue door. "The doctor will be with you shortly, for now just take a seat on the exam table and try to get comfortable." She gives you a small smile as she pushes open the door.

You thank her, your voice coming out soft, almost meek and she gives a gentle squeeze on your arm as you walk through the door before closing it behind you. You place your things down on a rather uncomfortable looking chair before settling down on the exam table, the paper covering crumpling underneath your thighs. Some time passes, though you're not sure how much, before you hear a knock at the door that jolts you out of your dazed state.

"Hello! may I come in?" The woman's voice comes out muffled behind the door.

"Y-yes," You take a small breath. "Yes, you can come in."

The door opens and a middle aged women walks through, she gives you a kind smile as she settles into the chair in front of a little desk. She goes to turn on the computer and types a few things in before turning back to you.

"I'm Doctor Green, I'll be conducting your exam today. I need to ask you a couple questions before we begin, is that alright?" You nod at her in an impassive away and she pulls a clipboard off her desk.

As you guessed, she asks you the same questions you answered in the waiting room only this time she asks for more details. After an uncomfortable Q&A session she finally begins to explain the actual procedures that are going to be preformed. They all seem pretty straight forward, she'll start with a physical exam that, of course will come with more questions, then a urine sample and blood sample will be taken from you to actually see if you're pregnant.

The physical exam is about what you expected, though she's a bit more thorough in examining certain areas. After that part is over, the urine sample is next. She provides you two cups, one cup is filled with water and the other is a cup you are quite literally supposed to pee in. Doctor Green instructs you to drink the cup of water, wait about fifteen minutes, then take the sample cup to the bathroom to pee in. You cringe a bit at the last part and you see a small smile tug at her lips. You drink the water and she shows you where the bathroom is before leading you back to the exam room once more.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes for your blood sample alright?" You nod at her and she nods back before exiting the room.

Just as Doctor Green predicted, fifteen minutes after drinking the cup of water you had too pee. You grabbed the sample cup and walked towards the bathroom with quivering legs to take care of your business. Once you finished you took the cup back into the exam room and placed it onto a mat.

Doctor Green comes back into the exam room a few minutes later to take your urine sample to the lab for testing before finally collecting your blood sample. It was as unpleasant as you had thought, a strange feeling in your veins as she fills the little syringe with your blood. After she finishes, Doctor Green cleans and patches the needled area up when suddenly her computer chimes.

"Perfect timing, your results must be ready!" Her words quickly have you sputtering as your eyes blow wide.

"My… results? Doesn't that take some time? I thought it would take longer…" You wish it would take longer, you're not ready to hear them yet.

She moves over to the desk to open up your lab results, humming in acknowledgment at your words.

"The blood test is the one that takes time," She explains. "The results of that can take either a few hours or a few days depending on how busy the lab is. The urine results don't take more than a couple minutes though. That's why people use at home tests a lot."

She turns to you, a small smile on her face.

"Are you ready to hear your results?" No, you think.

But, "Yes." Is what you say.

"Congratulations, You're having a baby!"

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You don't remember the rest of the appointment, or the drive home honestly. You weren't really thinking, you didn't know what to think, what to do. When you arrive back to your apartment the only thing you can bring yourself to do is flop onto the couch and throw your head in your hands. What was the logical next step? You can't hide the pregnancy forever, in fact it's probably better to tell Simon sooner rather than later, and you don't think you could bring yourself to terminate the pregnancy either.

Everything feels so fucking hopeless.

You don't know what to do or what you want, you don't know how Simon will react, what he'll want. It's scary, so fucking scary. You can't even get this man to talk about what's going on between the two of you so how are you supposed to tell him you're having his baby? What will he do? What if he runs? He could do that easily given his military connections. He could run from you and leave you to deal with this alone, he could tell you he wants nothing to do with you or this baby and that it's your issue to deal with, alone.

You'd hope he wouldn't do that. You like to think he'd be kinder.

But you don't know, and that's the scariest part about everything. You don't even know if Simon is your boyfriend, how are you supposed to figure out what to do now that you're pregnant? Tears begin to slip down the supple skin of your cheeks as you cry, grabbing onto a pillow and pulling it tight to your chest as you sob so hard it's almost painful.

You're scared, so fucking scared, and the one person who makes everything less scary is the one you're afraid of most right now.

You sob, for hours upon hours until the tears stop falling and your red, puffy eyes fall shut after all the emotional exertion. Even in your sleep that anxious knot in your chest doesn't loosen, if anything it feels like it grows tighter and your subconscious mind thrusts all your biggest worries to the forefront of your mind.

God, what are you going to do?

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AAHHH! dad!simon my beloved… I'm honestly really excited idk where this came from because I was trying to figure out what to write for neighbor!simon but then the thoughts came and now this is not neighbor!simon but an entirely different beast… I hope you guys enjoyed this I will do my best to maintain this and create a little series out of it :3 I know you can hardly call this a chapter but putting part 1 feels like i'm making a tiktok story time LMAOO!! think of em' as short chapters :p Likes and reblogs are appreciated asssss always and ilysm thanks for all the support mwah!! <3

(and yes the series title and all the chapter titles are songs!)

[bitchycunt]

People be like "I really enjoy talking to you" then ghosts you the next day

[eleganthologramcolor]

Check this out, a teaser to a bigger thing I'm working on...

What about a reader who's equally as mean as a situationship!Simon?

Toxic!Reader x Toxic!Simon

Reader gives the attitude they're given. Doesn't let themselves get hurt more than the other one. An eye for an eye, maybe more if you piss them off. Warnings: implied smut, implied female anatomy, mock baby trapping as an unserious breeding kink practice, toxic behavior, reader's inner monolog is going to be MEAN in the main series, unprotected sex + multiple partners, shaming of Simon's abilities.

You'd learned very early on that he planned to use you. You're warm, you're tight, you get the job done. No matter, you didn't expect things to go far with a military dude who insists on fucking the first night anyway. If he's having fun, you should get what you want out of it, too.

He's too rough, too mean, too degrading one night, ruining your orgasm at least 3 times before giving you a half hearted one at the end because, if he's being honest, he got bored, alright? The denial doesn't make you want more, doesnt make you crave his touch, no, not at all. You let him into your home, into your bed for a night and he cant even finish you off properly for the sake of his entertainment? The lingering heat in your gut boiling over into simmering bitterness. That's fine, you tell him, you've "got toys that'll get the job done faster and better than he does." The nonchalance in your tone when you say it makes him flinch. A punch right to the gut of his ego as he's getting dressed, looking over his shoulder at you with an unreadable expression. You don't bother to look at him, playing on your phone for a few minutes before you wave a hand, "Uh, shoo? I want you out of here."

The next time you're on top, you get payback. He'd let you take control so willingly, with that satisfied, shit eating grin when you'd asked so sweetly. God, all you had to do was bat your eyes and soften your voice, what a dumbass. You put on a show, tipping your head back to make softer, sweeter sounds, taking just what you need. And only what you need. He doesn't catch on, enraptured by your performance until suddenly you're clamping down, a little too early for him, so yes, it feels good, but it doesn't quite get him there. He grabs your hips, moving to plant his heels on the bed, when you put a hand on his chest and start getting up.

"I'm done."

"Wot?"

It comes out sharp, he's used to all his other little friends letting him get what he wants, all compliant and sweet and innocently hoping this makes them his favorite.

"I said I'm done. Get out. I got work in the morning."

You stand up so abruptly, leaving him with an aching hard on that twitches painfully as it falls against his stomach, wet and exposed to cold air. Pretty as the sight may be, he was useless with it. Girthy, long and curved, should be perfect for reaching all of the spots your fingers can't, but as you'd found, the Itty bitty vibe that fits in the palm of your hand can give you more than a temporary warmth that does so little to quell the anticipation and heat the rest of him seems to promise. You remember that, and tell him over text next time he tries to come over late.

> the door unlocked?

> no, simon. Its midnight. Already took care of myself.

> you've got someone over already?

> [attached is a photo of a powerful vibrator. It's a little too intense for your tastes, but for the sake of bullying him, you show him something he can't compete with.]

It brings a wicked smile to your lips when you hear his bike outside rev up again, imagining him huff in annoyance, stomping away from your front door when he had been expecting you to let him in. You used to wish you were his favorite, that you were his first choice, that he dreamt of you when he was away. But now you hoped you were the last resort, that all of his other little friends had already said no.

Oh, and his other toys....

You'd found out pretty much instantly. Wicked thing you are pretending not to notice the last bit of purple lipstick under his ear, the pink glittery ring that stains the base of his cock, there before you, the red smudging the neck of his shirt. How many different girls, you wonder, or boys, when you see the particularly mean bruise of a bite left on his inner thigh, dumbass thinks leaving the lights off means you can't see shit. The room may be dim, but you aren't fucking blind. You don't let him know, though, you're privy to having your own fun, too.

Makes you seethe the next time he's playing possessive, in your ear as about how you're his, no one else can make you feel as good, no one else can get this deep, can they, 'lovie?' Makes a big show of pulling the condom off, the sick bastard, emptying into you and grunting about this and that, you having his baby and being stuck with him. Being stuck with his ugly attitude? You think the fuck not.

You're on the pill, but you'll make a big show, too, when he leaves, you call up that pretty guy he'd been talking to. One of his coworkers, you're sure. He's a tad bit sweeter. More feral, more hungry to see you writhing beneath him, the sight being enough to get him off. The next morning you post to your Instagram story, a picture of your hand holding his with the breakfast he got you. A warm bag of takeout and an after morning pill, your lipstick on the back of a new hand. Caption it with something silly and cheesy,

"My prince charming got me some breakfast 😌"

And when that blank account views your story, you know you've got him. Bastard thinks he's slick, you won't notice if he doesn't follow or like any of your posts, yea? Fuckin' dumbass. Walking right into your trap. You stifle a shit eating grin when you're back home and getting a barrage of texts from his number. You're tempted to not reply at all, when a meaner thought tempts you. Without reading his messages, you send one of your own,

> hey simon, kinda busy today. Don't come over later, there won't be room in the driveway.

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

Someone help me I’ve got the mental image of Ghost sharing his cig with you post-sex and you’re standing outside, on the balcony of your shitty flat. It’s late. It’s quiet and you live in the city so barely see any stars but for once it’s so quiet it’s almost somber.

You accidentally blow smoke in his direction and you break the silence by gasping out loud, waving your hands in front his face frantically to clear it away from him, whispering sorry oh my god I’m so sorry.

Except.

You know everything there is to know about Ghost. You’ve heard everything that happened to him, accepted all the things he’s done. And yet, you feel the need to physically move some cigarette smoke away from his face, as if it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

It makes his chest feel like it’s about to cave in.

[ceilidho]

Situationship!Ghost hits you with the “no wonder your single nobody wants to deal with psychotic ass” and then turns his notifs off- cut to an hour or two later and he’s got you bent over your kitchen counter sobbing his name while he says some shit like “nobody will ever get you better than me, got it?” (I need him in the worst way)

he needs someone that can handle his crazy ass and give it back tenfold lmaooo. you change your locks and phone number, maybe even move apartments (or go stay at an airbnb or something) without telling him because you had an argument the week before that he wouldn't apologize for and the anger burns in your throat so bad that you decide to just cut him off altogether if he wants to be an asshole about it.

cut to days later when he finally tracks you down, pounding on your door to let him in ("bird, open up the fucking door now or i'm breaking it down"), his voice sounding more desperate and harsher than you've ever heard it before because he's been awake for like 72 hours trying to find you.