The first rule of fandom is have fun. The second rule of fandom is find an enabler and become an enabler. Yes you should write that fic. What if it was even hornier? What if it was angstier? What if you wrote it just for me?
So I had this dream about Ghost a few days ago and had to write it down for you all to enjoy vulnerable Simon too
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader (no mention of YN)
Word count: 956
Warnings: mentions of blood
First time ever actually writing down a fanfic so I am kinda nervous about this
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Simon got hurt. More of a scratch than anything else. He wasn’t paying attention for less than a second when the bullet grazed his right upper arm. An annoying little reminder of his failure and the visual representation of a major hit to his ego that he wasn’t taking very well.
“Keep it dry and wrapped up for today.” The medic had advised him. Ghost had gotten up with a grunt, arm tightly wrapped in a white bandage that had been a stark contrast to his dirty black clothes. He had pushed past the team and disappeared towards the dormitories. “Go talk to him, will you?” Price had said later in the dining area when Ghost had yet to reappear. “I think he might need some company.”
So here you are, walking through the base, looking out for the looming presence of an angry Ghost. If he doesn’t want you to find him, you won’t be able to, that much you know. But you have a sneaking suspicion that Price wasn’t entirely wrong about his assessment of Ghost’s current mental state.
Ghost had been softer ever since you joined the team. He hadn’t necessarily become approachable to the average person. Still, he had opened up enough to you that more than one night was spent drinking tea and sharing a pack of biscuits in the dark, talking about anything and nothing, or just enjoying the silence together. Sometimes even without his signature mask.
“Lieutenant?” You turn down a hallway and walk along a long, narrow corridor. You are greeted with nothing but silence apart from the humming lights guiding your way through the base. Down another hall, you finally hear water running. “Ghost?” you call out louder this time, not to straddle him. Silence. Three doors down, you turn towards your final destination: the showers. On a bench next to the entrance, his dirty clothes lay in a pile, discarded haphazardly, mask on top. “Simon.”
You know he heard you, but he doesn't move. His naked back is turned towards you. The blood and grime, evidence of the strains of your last mission, are disappearing down the drain in red and brown swirls. His stance is odd: left shoulder under the running water, head hanging low, legs a little wider apart than usual to keep his balance as he holds his bandaged right arm away from the water. “Do you need help with that?”
He doesn’t answer, but you know him well enough to understand that his silence isn’t refusal. You take off your shoes, roll up your own dirty trousers and pad through the muddy puddles of dirty water towards him. Careful not to invade his privacy more than necessary in a moment of vulnerability, you avert your gaze, reach for the shampoo bottle with one hand and grab the handheld shower head with the other. “Can you bend backwards a little?” He obeys wordlessly, adjusting his stance and allowing you to wet his dirty blond hair properly. Squeezing a generous amount of shampoo onto your hand, you lather it up slightly before you start massaging it into his wet strands. Taking the opportunity, you start giving him a head massage to take his mind off of what was tormenting him. Starting at his temples, you work your fingers over his scalp with varying amounts of pressure. Little circles on his hairline turn into wider motions over the top of his head. Varying between applying pressure to certain areas and spreading your fingers out over his scalp in long, continuous movements, you try to figure out what he enjoys most. With each pass of your fingers through his hair, you see his shoulders fall a little more. His breath slows and deepens, his balled fists loosen, and his head lolls back further, allowing you to work the shampoo all over his head and scalp. Reaching for the body wash, you run it onto his back and left arm, leaving him to take care of the rest himself.
Once he is done, you reach for the showerhead and start washing away the remnants of the last 24 hours. The foam leaves faint trails on clean skin where dirt and sweat had stuck to him just minutes ago. He allows you to run your hand through his hair for one last time, wringing out most of the water, before he straightens up again. “Close your eyes.” You turn off the water, close your eyes and wait for him to move. The room is silent apart from the water dripping off of Simon and the small splashing sounds of his feet as he turns around in the shallow remains of his shower. You feel how close he is, your hands twitching next to you, wishing you could reach out and hold him properly. To let him know that it’s only human to make mistakes, that the mission was still a success, and that he got away with nothing more than a scratch. The unsaid words hang thick between you, as you suddenly feel his wet forehead press against yours. You keep your eyes closed, respecting his need to keep some distance between you, but breathe him in deeply. “Thank you”, he hums before his touch is replaced by the warm, moist air of the showers again. You hear his wet feet move away from you on the tiled floor, hear him shuffle through towels and dry himself off in silence. The rustle of fresh clothes, followed by the sharp zip of his flies, lets you know he is back to being Ghost. Any remainder of Simon has been neatly put away for the day and he is back to being your ever serious lieutenant.
your twenties are Also about discovering that you’re not a bad person in all the ways you believed you were but you’re a bad person in completely new and exciting ways
Ghost with demons!
TF 141 with dogs🐶
It's been a while painting full rendered pieces, enjoyed a lot!
Inspired from awesome @yourfaithfulauthor's request.
so fucking humbling to be like “no I like that character a normal amount” and then you can literally feel your heart rate spike at a mention of them like a dog that just heard the word “treat”
hey so it’s march now aka the beginning of endometriosis awareness month and i feel obligated to remind you that debilitatingly painful periods are not normal. if you or someone you know is ending up sick or bedridden every month, you are not crazy and deserve medical attention from someone who will take you seriously
gummygunk
romaincrisis
amandla
areudirty
tangentwithtanner
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
