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#a gentleman calling

bananadramaaa · 1 month

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Thanks to @birdsaretoddlers and hers "A Gentleman's Calling" (!murder besties fic!), I have one more woman who's wrongs I support. Terrible woman save me, save me terrible woman.

(Dolly's design by @lemonberyl)

#my aroace nature is doing lindy hop because of that fic #more murder besties #and their fucked up relationship #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin alastor #aroace alastor #human alastor #a gentleman calling #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel mimzy #human mimzy #myart #human au

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floral-force · 1 year

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American Hospitality - One Shot

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

summary: A girls' night out gets interrupted when a handsome stranger spills your drink. Can this mystery man salvage your night with chivalry and smooth British flirting?

words: 2.8k+

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY/NO MINORS, flirting, innuendo, meeting at a bar, alcohol, drunk task force 141 are little shits, ghost is a gentleman, meet cute, Chicago traditions

masterlist | read on ao3 | taglist

part 2: breakfast in bed

The crowd was rowdy and unpredictable—Saturday nights always brought out the annoying drunks—and you were used to being pushed or moved around, but never with such force. Usually, being even a little tipsy meant you brushed off that type of contact, but this shove was so jarring that you couldn’t ignore it. That, and you’d just turned away from the bar with your new drink in hand. The shove knocked it to the ground, thankfully missing your outfit and ruining the grimy tile floor instead.

Just as you were about to scold the person responsible, you looked up and saw a broad chest right in front of your eyes. Tilting your head back a bit more, your eyes widened at the sight of a man in a black balaclava, a skull jaw printed on it, his wide brown eyes and raised eyebrows the only visible features. A large hand came to rest on your left bicep, and you gulped. Here was one man you didn’t want to pick a fight with; you could cough up another ten dollars for a replacement drink.

“Fuck—I’m sorry, love,” he said, the pet name and low British accent making your heart skip a beat. He looked you up and down. “It didn’ spill on you, did it?”

You dumbly shook your head no, your buzzed brain too stunned to speak.

“Thank God, else I’d feel even worse,” he sighed and moved his hand to the small of your back, guiding you back to the sticky bar top. “Now then, let me buy you a new one.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” you shouted over the music.

He was so broad and tall that he commanded space, forcing people to move out of his way. Being ushered by someone with that type of presence made your heart flutter. It didn’t help that the black shirt he wore was tight around his arms and torso, accentuating his size. Feeling his hand on your back made your skin hot in the best way possible, as did his deliciously deep, accented voice.

He shook his head, and you noticed that his pale exposed skin had a hint of a blush near his eyes—just barely.

“Nah, I can’t let a pretty gal like you have her night ruined by an arse like me.” His eyes landed on yours, taking you in with a calculating stare. “What’re’ya drinkin’?”

You swallowed. “Um, a, uh,” you stuttered and rubbed the back of your neck, hot under his brown eyes. “A vodka cran.”

He nodded. You watched him flag down one of the bartenders scurrying around, jealous of how easily and quickly he was able to do it. His hand remained on the small of your back as he ordered your drink and maybe something else, but you weren’t too sure; you were too focused on trying to slow your heartbeat and breathe normally. One pink drink and one dark brown drink in shitty plastic cups were set down, and two shots of amber liquid soon joined them. You heard a muffled word of thanks as he handed the bartender cash, stuffing his wallet back in his pants pocket.

Before you could take your drink, he set it down in front of you. His hand dwarfed the cup—he could easily crush it in his fist.

“Now,” he said, turning to face you, taking his hand off your back. “My mates and I heard that we had to take a shot of Malört while we’re ‘ere in Chicago.”

You grimaced, eyes falling on the ominous liquid in front of him. You sighed deeply and shrugged, meeting his eyes. “It’s fucking awful, but it is a Chicago thing.”

He chuckled. “So we gotta sort this ourselves now?”

“We?”

He shrugged. “Can’t do it alone, love.”

“Let’s be clear,” you said, smiling and pointing a finger at him, “I’m only doing this because you got me a drink.”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re a right saint.” He handed you one of the shots, taking the other in his hand and pulling up the balaclava enough so he could drink. Your lips parted when he smiled. “Name’s Simon, by the way.”

You told him your name, standing on your tip toes as he bent his neck so he could hear it. He repeated it a few times, straightening and looking at you with something affectionate in his eyes. “I like the way it sounds, sweetheart.”

You giggled like a schoolgirl talking to her crush. You raised your shot, and he followed suit. Feeling bold, you said, “Here’s to Chicago, and handsome strangers.”

Simon chuckled, a low rumble from his chest. “I’ll drink to that, and to meetin’ stunnin’ lasses.”

It was your turn to laugh. You tapped your glass against the bar top and brought it to your lips with a grimace, knocking it back as fast as you could so the taste didn’t hit before you could swallow. You tapped the glass twice against the counter, hoping that you timed it right. Luckily, you had, and it hit a few seconds after the Malört had burned down your esophagus. You shivered and shook your head, immediately gulping down your vodka cran.

You heard a deep ugh and looked over to see Simon setting his empty shot down and shaking his head. He looked over at you and pursed his lips.

“Yeah,” he rasped, “that’s fuckin’ mingin’.”

You laughed at his response; seeing the reactions people had to Malört never got old. The sweetness and tang of vodka from your drink had finally covered the fermented licorice taste, and you watched Simon drink his, chestnut eyes squeezed shut as he chugged. He set the empty cup down and looked at you. You were twirling the straw in your drink, absentmindedly gazing at him, and embarrassed when he caught you looking.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” he purred, pulling the mask down again.

You nodded emphatically. “Very much so.”

“Me too,” he breathed, taking a step closer. When he brushed a thumb across your cheek and pinched your chin, you bit your lip and stared up at him through your lashes. Simon shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Don’ go lookin’ at me like that, pretty girl.”

Usually, you hated the smell of whiskey, but on his breath, it was intoxicating. “Why not, Simon?” you asked innocently, setting your drink down.

He inhaled sharply and got even closer, your bodies almost touching. The heat in your gut was almost unbearable, burning with anticipation. He placed his hands on your waist, kneading your flesh with his fingers.

“Because you won’t be able to walk when I’m through with you,” he husked, eyes sparkling with lust.

You giggled and placed your hands on his broad chest, stroking up and down. The man was toned—you could feel the muscular ridges under the tight material—but soft at the same time. The Malört must’ve melted part of your brain because you suddenly imagined what it’d be like to let your hands explore his bare torso while he was on top of you. You just knew it would be a holy sight and sensation.

“I’ll take my chances, hot stuff.”

“You’ll give me a proper Chicago welcome, yeah?”

He squeezed your waist and you saw the corners of his eyes crinkle with a mischievous smile. You nodded emphatically, never breaking eye contact.

“I’ll give you that and more,” you purred.

He chuckled, then his sultry tone dropped. “How much ‘ave you had to drink, love?”

You took a deep breath and forced air across your lips as you thought. You glanced at the abandoned vodka cran, barely half empty. “Aside from that—” you jerked your head- “and the Malört? Maybe two. I got here an hour or so ago with a few other friends.”

He nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor, hands loosening. Simon met your eyes again, asking, “You free tomorrow?”

You smiled and playfully tapped your finger on your chin, looking up at the ceiling as if you were thinking. “You know what, Simon? Suddenly, my schedule is wide open. Oh, and my legs if you’re interested.”

Simon shook his head and laughed. “Cheeky thing,” he commented, a hand rising to pinch your chin. He then pulled out his phone, the bright light illuminating his pale skin, his hands nearly dwarfing the device. He unlocked it and pulled up a blank contact page, looking back up at you. “Before we get too battered, what’s your—fuck, what d’you Yanks call it—cell phone number?”

You rolled your eyes as you started telling him, hearing him swear when he pressed the wrong number with his too-large fingers. He asked you to spell your name—“Don’ wanna fuck something that lovely up, lass”—and nodded, quickly sending you a text so you could save his number.

The text he sent made you shake your head and rub your temple. Simon grabbed your arm, gently stroking it.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“No! You just didn’t strike me as a ‘kissy-face emoji’ kind of guy.”

“That a bad thing, sweetheart?”

You beamed up at him, putting your phone back in your pocket. “Not at all. But I do get the feeling you aren’t like this with your ‘mates,’” you giggled, using air quotes around the British word.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s the skull mask, innit?”

You shook your head, taking a sip from your forgotten drink. Tilting your head to the left, you gazed straight ahead behind him and jerked your chin forward. “Something tells me it’s that pack of guys pointing at you.”

He whipped around and you heard him groan. “Fuckin’ hell.” Simon turned to face you again, picking up his drink and finishing it off in less than ten seconds. “Yeah, those’re them.”

“You know,” you said, puckering your lips. “Are any of them single?”

Simon raised an eyebrow and leaned against the bar, resting a fist against his hip. “You’re not ditchin’ me already, are ya, love?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m incredibly excited to have those arms around me tomorrow,” you stated. “But I do know my girlfriends would love to flirt with some British guys.”

Simon stared at the ceiling, silent as he considered your offer. When he looked back down at you, he nodded. “Under one—no, two conditions.”

“Shoot.”

“One, nobody goes home with anyone tonight.”

“I like that.”

“Two, everyone takes a shot of Malört.” Simon exhaled, fiddling with his empty cup. “I need those twits bloody humbled.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n,” you giggle, giving a fake salute. “You sound like you give orders all the time, Simon.”

He took a step closer to you and gripped your waist again. “Most people call me lieutenant,” he husked. “But you can call me daddy.”

You were absolutely flustered, words catching in your throat. Before you could attempt to respond, you heard raucous laughter and saw two men ambling towards you and Simon. He immediately turned and put his back to you, his left arm slightly out in a protective stance. His words left you burning and you felt your pussy throb with sudden arousal. You’d explore that innuendo tomorrow; for now, you were focused on taking in the grinning men converging on Simon.

One of them waved at you with a toothy grin. You could see the drunken blush blooming on his pale ivory cheeks, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oi, Ghost! Who’s tha bonnie lass?” he yelled, a Scottish accent underscoring his query.

“Soap, I’ll fuckin’ end ya,” you heard Simon growl.

Another man stared over at you, his cool sepia arms toned and a wide smile splitting his face. He nodded at you and raised his thin black brows. “Ol’ Ghost ain’t scarin’ you too much, is he?”

“If he is, I’ll knock ‘im on his arse!”

“That’ll do!” Simon barked. You placed a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh, but he heard it anyways and twisted his head to look at you. “Y’alright?”

“I’m perfect, Simon,” you chuckled, pursing your lips and holding back a laugh when his eyes widened as his friends started to howl with laughter.

“Steamin’ Jesus, LT!” The one you assumed was Soap doubled over and guffawed. “Gaz, go get Price!”

Gaz nodded and turned, expertly weaving through the thick crowd. He quickly returned with a bearded man, brunette with a few lines and a smattering of freckles on his ivory face. You assumed this newcomer was Price. Gaz dragged him next to Soap and jerked his chin at you.

“Ghost here told this lass his name,” Gaz chittered.

A smile teased Price’s face, and he nodded. You saw Simon bow his head and groan.

“And he didn’t scare her off?” He looked between Soap and Gaz, who both shook their heads. Price smiled up at Simon and stepped forward, clapping him on the shoulder. “Attaboy, Lieutenant!”

Price’s shoulders shook with a suppressed laugh as Gaz and Soap burst out laughing, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. The sound rose over the din of the bar, your cheeks pained from smiling so much.

You cleared your throat as the laughing died down, and the three men looked at you; Simon’s eyes had never left you. He turned so his back was to the bar, leaning his left arm on it.

“You guys ever had Malört?” you inquired, raising an eyebrow.

When they all shook their heads, you looked up at Simon. He tilted his head towards you and sighed, broad chest rising up and down.

“Well,” you declared, “You can’t say you visited the great city of Chicago if you didn’t take a shot of Malört while you were here! My treat.”

“Simon!” Price exclaimed, his brow furrowed.

“Yes, Captain?” Simon sighed.

“You’re gonna let the lass pay?”

“Bloody hell,” Simon murmured. He grumbled and pulled out his wallet, turning around to order the nasty shots as his friends hollered and laughed. He looked down at you, shaking his head and chuckling. “What am I gonna do with you, sweetheart?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. I’ll leave that up to you, Lieutenant.”

He clicked his tongue and stared down at you, pinching your chin. “Oh, you’re askin’ for it now, love.”

You dreamily smiled up at him, leaning against the bar and propping your elbow up on it, resting your cheek in your palm. Simon ordered and paid, the three shots sitting ominously on the counter. Two vodka crans were set down soon after, and Simon placed one next to you. He lifted the balaclava, revealing his pink lips to you as he sipped his drink, pale blond lashes fluttering on his cheeks. You raised an eyebrow, wondering why he hadn’t ordered whiskey and coke again.

“Simon.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t peg you as the type of guy who likes vodka crans.”

He smirked, the thin black straw resting on his lips. He said your name, and you were enamored with the way his lips looked as he said it. You hoped he’d be pressing them all over your skin tomorrow. It would be a fucking tragedy if he didn’t.

“I’m a man of taste, love. Besides,” he said, taking one last sip before pulling the mask back down. “How can I not like ‘em after spilling one led to me gettin’ your number?”

You nodded. “Fair enough. It’s probably my new favorite drink because of this.”

He snorted, making you giggle. He rapped his fist against the counter and gazed into your eyes.

“Now, how about we make those clowns suffer?”

“I thought Chicago was welcoming, sweetheart,” Simon teased.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “I was ready to fight you when you spilled my drink.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And how would that have gone for ya?”

“I’m feisty,” you giggled. “But maybe not as well as letting you buy me a new drink.”

“Probably right,” he nodded, rubbing a large hand on your back.

He turned around and slapped Soap’s back with the back of his hand, the man startling from the force and sound of it. The men instantly crowded the bar, each taking a shot glass. Simon moved to stand at your left side, angling himself and acting as a barrier between you and anyone dumb enough to risk spilling on his feisty American girl. The men looked to you, and you raised your drink with them, Simon following suit.

You beamed at them, warming up when Simon placed his hand on the small of your back. “Welcome to Chicago!”

As they took it, you and Simon both took a few sips from your drinks. You looked up and patted Simon’s arms, and he leaned down.

“You’ll get your second welcome tomorrow, handsome.”

You gasped when he quickly squeezed your ass.

Simon straightened to his full height again. The corners of his brown eyes crinkled with a smile, and he nodded. “Oh, I plan on it, pretty girl.”

a/n: I'm a proud chicagoan and just needed to post some gentleman!ghost and goofy vacationing task force 141...also, malort is as awful as it sounds. but if you visit and you're 21+, you gotta take a shot of it. hope you enjoyed! UPDATE: i wrote a part 2 to this fic called breakfast in bed! it is all smut (with a dash of fluff), so give it a read if you'd like.

masterlist | join the taglist! | part 2: breakfast in bed

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fic #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod fic #call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 #gentleman!simon riley #he's a man of honor and treats a lady right #flirting with ghost #meet cute #my fic

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everyscreentoobeseen · 6 months

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Maybe im just Stede-pilled but I didn't see him doing anything wrong in ep 6&7 till the Zheng Confrontation.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Killing Ned was inevitable and a good thing because it rid the world of a monster. Him getting praised and respected by other pirates isn't a crime. Him burning a dude is just a more direct version of burning the party boat. Plus the dude wanted to kill him. It's not shown that he died either so he's probably fine.

Not once did he act mean or nasty for no reason. Especially not during ep 7. He was just basking in receiving validation from the community he so desperately wanted to be accepted by.

The only reason he wanted to fight Zheng was because he not only lost Ed, but he was also losing Olu/Jim/Archie. His family. Which Zheng had no problem mocking him for. Then Steak Knife got pinched to ??death???unconsciousness??

Of course he's gonna act irrationally and draw his sword. Everyone is acting like Stede was becoming evil and corrupted but none of the shit he did even touches what Blackbeard did in his Kraken era... Not here for the Stede slander.

He's my little meow meow that can do no wrong.

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #our flag means death #stede bonnet #oh no stede is becoming the mean pirate he tried not to be #shut up #this whole season is about stede no longer deluded by the romantic ideal of pirates #and him realizing what it means to be a real pirate #and not a noble playing at one #zheng is the wake up call but the rest of the episode is just proof that he can achieve his dreams #like zheng said in ep 3 #There's time for talking and time for fighting #you can be a gentleman pirate #as long as you're still doing the pirate part

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myficprompts · 5 months

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okay but where’s a s2 au where kate DOES call anthony out and challenges him to a duel (obviously pre-engagement. maybe at aubrey hall?) for his actions and he doesn’t want to but she stands her ground and then they’re at the dueling field and anthony doesn’t want to shoot and actively refuses and kate’s just furious over everything and that’s her tipping point and she’s like “is it because i am a woman???” and she’s ready to rip him a new one and he just blurts out “it is because i care about you”

#bridgerton #kanthony #kanthony au #bridgerton au #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #bridgerton fic prompt #kathony #kathony au #I just think Kate would totally call anthony out to a duel to protect her sister #or any gentleman out #like she doesn’t care she’ll do it and she’ll win because she’s a great shot #and yeah she might have to run after but her sister’s honor would remain #anyone tag me if anyone writes this because I want to read it

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bobaboob · 1 year

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thinking about diluc and his emotions again.

in-story, he's clearly aware of his emotions and can recognize them for what they are [see message on cat's tail board- "sometimes my heart is agonized by this"] and yet he doesn't know how to deal with or where to "put" them now that his main system of support, his father and brother, are no longer a part of his life.

in my eyes, kaeya and crepus were both emotionally intelligent enough and knew diluc well enough to know how he was feeling without him having to say a word, and now that's backfired on him. years after the events of that night, diluc is an adult who cannot articulate or healthily feel emotions such as anger and sadness.

he certainly used to be a man who wore his heart on his sleeve [see character stories and alice's letter from Hidden Strife event], but now he only lets his emotions out on paper or in combat.

he clearly feels things deeply, and is stricken by his own guilt for his father's death and his falling out with kaeya [so many voicelines about guilt :( ] and yet who in the story does he confide in? the traveler only knows of his emotions through snippets from letters and stories, kaeya presumably knows all of this but understandably keeps his distance (though not without efforts om his part to breach the gap), and if diluc talks about his emotions to any other person in the story, we are not given any hints of it.

he is a deeply emotional man who has forced himself to become stoic from guilt and shame, and that's what makes his letters in Hidden Strife so tragic. you can feel the constrained worry and pain through his words ["take care of yourself instead"].

the fact that he now has lost his two staunchest supporters has caused him to retreat in on himself and become the diluc we know now in-story.

i just have so many emotions about him and how he has forced stoicism upon himself T T please someone give him like. a hug and a journal

#when i call diluc a repressed regency gentleman this is why lmao bros literally been repressing himself for YEARS #someday i hope he'll meet someone that he feels he can 'burden' with the emotions he keeps from the world #they're not a burden but he certainly thinks they are #(it's me i will diluc pls)#real luc hours #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #ragbros #big sigh

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simonrileytaylorsversion · 5 months

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I firmly believe Gaz grew up in a household full of women. He most definitely had 3 sisters growing up. And his mother taught that boy manners, best believe. He isn’t one of those guys who is disgusted by your period, because his entire family synced one time and man’s entire life flashed before his eyes.

Hes basically the ultimate gentleman.

“In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.”

-Taylor Swift

#kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #taylor swift #cod modern warfare #call of duty #headcanon #gentleman #boys #kyle garrick #gaz x reader

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batsarebetterthanpeople · 2 years

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EVERYBODY SHUT UP I WANT TO TALK ABOUT WHAT THE FUCK IS IN ED’S CUP!!!

So in this scene the table is set for Stede and Ed to have breakfast together. There are two cups on the table. There is also a teapot. Jack comes to sit down at the table and pours out rum like he’s the two shots of vodka lady, first he pours what I’m guessing is 4 oz minimum just eyeballing it into Ed’s cup and then roughly the same amount into his own. (I’m not a bar tender so I could be wrong on that guestimate).

So there are 2 options here. 1, the less funny one, Jack is pouring that into an empty cup. Option number 2, a very possible option that I think is the funniest fucking thing ever. Stede or Roach or whoever has put tea to Ed’s specifications into that fucking cup and Jack just decided to booze it up. We know that Ed likes his tea with a dollop of milk and 7 sugars. What I am proposing to you dear reader is that that cocktail that Ed is drinking at 9 am on a tuesday contains 1 dollop milk, 7 sugars (be that sugar cubes or some other measurement), tea(which may or may not be caffeinated, it’s funnier if it is though) and however much rum Calico Jack, known frat boy, decided was the right amount.

#edward teach #edward teach ofmd #blackbeard #blackbeard ofmd #calico jack #calico jack ofmd #ofmd #Our flag means death #stede bonnet ofmd #stede bonnet #the gentleman pirate #the gentleman pirate ofmd #I'm coining this fucking cocktail it's called the calicobeard

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floral-force · 1 year

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Hi! I saw your requests are currently open, I've never requested anything before, so I hope I'm doing this right. I saw this prompt:

"Here, let me buy you a new one"

and I imagined it with Simon Riley. Honestly, I think that man is too traumatised to meet his s/o in his line of work, man would be worried sick about his partner's life and I jist think it would cause him anxiety looking out for his partner's and own head on a mission. If he were to meet his s/o, I believe it would be accidentally, like he bumps into his s/o and spills her coffee or vice versa. He admires them for a moment, but continues on with his life. And then he happens to stumble upon them more often and slowly starts falling for them... I'd like the readee to be female, but it's okay with me if the reader is g/n. Also, a slowburn would be just right for my idea.... Hope this is not too bothersome, ty regardless if you decide to write it or not <3

I also personally think our beloved simon wouldn't be able to mentally focus with his SO in the field. some folks think he wouldn't be able to fall for a civ, but I’m personally more of a fan of that or a medic!reader. and, I'll die on the hill that he's a gentleman when the moment calls for it. I write requests as drabbles and short one shots (esp since im editing a few wips) so I tried to get the slow burn in as best as I could. I hope you enjoy this nonnie!!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Are You Mine?

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

summary: He bumps into her far too often for it to be mere coincidence. Suddenly, a spilled coffee leads to something more, and Simon falls deeper into the puddle he caused all those months ago.

words: 1.7k+

warnings/tags: 18+ only/NO MINORS ALLOWED, innuendo, meet cute, soft!simon, fluff, allusions to smut, slow burn, gentleman!simon "ghost riley, soft!simon, Oxford and Lincoln college are mentioned

read on ao3 | masterlist | send a request

I. MARCH

Simon felt a small bump when he turned away from the register, and then a swear. He turned and saw a woman staring up at him, eyes wide. Coffee dripped down her hand and onto the floor, her mug half empty. This café was too damn small, and he was too damn broad.

The woman glanced at the ground at the puddle and frowned. Simon’s heart hurt a bit at her defeated sigh, and he tapped her arm.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, immediately cursing himself for the lame apology.

She looked up at him again with her sparkling eyes and shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

An American, he noted. And a pretty one, at that.

He shook his head, suddenly warm under the balaclava. “No, no.” He jerked his head back to the register and pulled out his wallet. “Here, let me buy you a new one.”

She gave him a weak smile, obviously intimidated. “Sir, really, it’s okay— “

“Stop, love. Let me get this sorted.”

He stepped up to the register and asked the barista what she’d ordered, and the barista put it in. Simon paid and turned back around to the woman. A gentle smile teased her gorgeous lips, and Simon couldn’t help but smile a bit himself. Before he could get another word in, his order was called—four coffees, one for each of the 141—and he was rushing out the door into the rainy March day.

II. MAY

Soap was relentless. Pint in hand, he was swaggering up to any woman in the tiny pub, seeing if any of them would bite. Gaz sat next to him, making him shake his head with jokes about Soap. The Scot was standing at the bar chatting up a girl, and Simon’s heart stopped when he saw the woman standing next to her.

It was the girl from the coffee shop—the one he'd bumped into over two months ago. She wore a simple but sexy outfit—one that turned heads. It certainly turned his. He shook his head when she covered her pretty mouth after Soap made a terrible joke that was timed completely wrong. Gaz commented on it, but Simon didn’t hear it; he was too focused on gathering the strength to speak to the mystery woman.

“I’ll be back,” he said gruffly to Gaz, rising to his feet and striding over to the woman. She noticed him when he stood at Soap’s side and looked directly at him, her eyes widening.

“I-It’s you,” she gasped. To his surprise, she smiled. “You’re the guy who ruined my coffee!”

“And promptly bought you a new one, love—don’t forget that.” He gripped his drink tighter. “Didn’t forget me though, did’ya?”

She giggled at his quick retort. “How could I forget such a clumsy, handsome man?”

She remembered him after all that time. And she thought he was handsome.

He stammered and Soap laughed before he could get any words out. Simon glared at him when the Scottish man clapped him on the back.

“I’ll leave’ya to it, lad,” he chittered, the woman he’d been chatting up following him away.

Simon stared at her and drank in her beauty. He noticed how she shifted under his gaze, how her eyes darted between his and the floor. The pub’s music seemed to fade into the background and echo as he took her in, noticing the way her outfit defined her delicious curves, the way her hand seemed to clench her drink when her eyes met his and stayed.

He broke the awkward silence. “Not afraid I’m gonna spill your drink again, are you, love?”

She laughed, the sound of it like gentle, tinkling bells. “No. I guess I just didn’t realize how—” she waved a hand up and down—“tall you are.”

He felt his cheeks redden. “The mask ain’t scarin’ you?”

“I’ve seen worse.” She took a sip of her drink, licking her lips.

“Like what, love?” He asked, leaning against the wooden counter.

“A 200-page book written in Britain from the 14th century.”

He chuckled, and she smiled up at him. “You’re right, lass—that’s far scarier than a mask.”

“Compared to that, you aren't scary at all.”

“Care to give me your name, then?” She told him, and he repeated it, letting the sound linger on his lips. “That’s lovely.”

“And yours?”

“Simon.”

She smiled. “Pleasure to meet you, Simon.”

His chest warmed at the sound of her voice saying his name. Simon finished his drink, closing his eyes. When he opened them again to set the empty cup on the counter, she was staring up at him, something sultry in her expression.

“You know, you have really nice eyes.”

“You think so, sweetheart?”

She nodded and took a step closer. Simon’s heart quickened. He could smell her perfume—something sweet and seductive—and took a deep inhale, hoping to etch it into his memory and be reminded of her every time he got a whiff of something even remotely like it.

“I’d love to see them up close.”

Simon’s eyes crinkled. “That could be arranged, love.”

III. JUNE

In Early June, Simon asked to take leave from late June through mid-August. It had only been two weeks since he’d met her at the pub, and one since they’d met again randomly in a café. After that incident, he knew he needed to see her as much as he could. Price had given him a quizzical look, a thick brown eyebrow quirked as he read the papers. He’d stared at Simon, making him feel small standing in front of his captain’s desk.

“This important to you, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir.”

Price had sighed, rubbing his temple. “We’ll see what Laswell has to say.”

Simon had nodded and left his office.

One week later, his request had been approved, and he was packing his things to return to his flat.

His leave now approved, Simon was hoping he’d be able to convince her to stay in England just a while longer after she graduated from Oxford—the smart lass getting her Masters—and he’d been successful.

She agreed after their date to some random bookstore that ended with her in his bed. Simon laughed when she confessed that she’d already broken the news to her family in the States that she was staying through the summer the day after they met again in early June by accident in a small café.

“Awfully confident, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

She playfully shoved his bare, sweaty chest, her own body slick and shiny post-orgasm.

“Don’t try me, Simon,” she scolded, her small smile betraying her attempt at a threat. “I can always get on a plane tomorrow.”

“We both know that ain’t true, love.” He dropped down to lay next to her on his side, running his hand down her torso and up again, watching her shiver.

“I can and will!” She exclaimed, hiding her growing smile under one of her delicate hands.

Simon pulled it away and kissed her, groaning when she placed her hand on his cheek. How he craved his lover’s touch. Just one taste was all it took.

IV. JULY

“Simon, English flats are not made for heat,” she muttered, fanning herself with a stack of papers. “Especially yours.”

He chuckled. She sat on the other side of his small couch, knees slightly spread apart, cotton shorts riding up her soft thighs. She gave him a shake of the head, rolling her eyes.

“You’re the one who chose to extend her stay into the summer, love. Not me.”

“I’d say you sealed the deal back when I ran into you in that café near Lincoln and you put the moves on me.” She looked over at him, a few baby strands of hair stuck to her sweaty brow. She looked lovely, even when she was sweating from a heat wave.

Simon smirked at her, raising his eyebrow. “Is that so?”

She bit her lip and set the papers down on his dingy coffee table, scooting closer to him. Her sticky skin touched his, and she touched his shin with her toes. He ran a finger along her jawline, leaning down to catch her lips with his, the sweat on his brow running down his temples as he got even hotter when she placed her hand on his thigh, ghosting over the hem of his short cotton underpants, finally coming to rest over his crotch. She pulled back and smiled up at him, running her hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch; he craved it, had been craving it ever since he’d seen her in May and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and she tugged him in to kiss his lips. In that moment, she’d sealed his fate. Simon was greedy for her, always needing her.

He still hid things from her—all she knew about his job was that he was military, but nothing specific—and always redirected any conversations that could lead to him discussing his past. Maybe he’d let her in one day. For now, he wanted to enjoy this—her skin on his, her tongue in his mouth, her scent lingering in his bed and mixing with his. Simon forgot everything when he was with her, choosing to bask in her glow instead. She blasted away the darkness within him with her radiance, gave him relief from his torments when she held him.

He clicked his tongue when she gave his already-hardening cock a soft squeeze. “Don’t go teasin’ me unless you’re ready for the consequences,” he warned.

She straddled him, pressing her thin cotton tank top to his bare chest. His eyes fluttered close when she placed her hands on his cheeks, tapping her fingers. She kissed him again and Simon placed his hand at the base of her skull, the other gripping her waist. He felt her pull back and breathe against his mouth, something light and needy.

“Choices have consequences,” she said simply. “And I’m ready to face them.”

Simon shook his head and grabbed the underside of her thighs and rose to his feet, smiling when she squealed. He carried her to the bedroom and set her on his bed, letting her rest on her back and kissing her smiling lips once more.

He'd never been happier to have ruined someone’s drink.

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#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #call of duty fic #call of duty #cod mw fanfiction #gentleman!simon riley #that's the hill I'll die on tbh #flirting with ghost #meet cute #slow burn #my fic

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gin-stan · 2 months

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Jake lockley is a respectful and polite man! 😤 He always asks Gena about how her kids are doing, before doing anything else!

This is before he developed DID, but I like how they set the tone for each aliases personalities.

#moon knight comics #moon knight system #moon knight fandom #moon boys #jake lockley #jake is a gentleman who opens doors and is on his Ps and Qs with women #ive notice lockley calls stevens gf “lady” when shes being thick headed and i think its cute

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mermaidlighthouse · 6 months

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Stede: now that’s romance

Ed’s internal monologue: oh REALLY cause like I also rescued us and *I* didn’t even have to wear someone’s face like a psycho AND I mugged a guy for a dingy AND (I mean you don’t know this BUT) I had Izzy track your ship and followed you around staying JUST out of sight so I could invite you to my place like a GENTLEMAN and THEN I watched you while you were sleeping (and like all that other stuff where we sat on a cliff and I told you you were what makes me happy and then we kissed and agreed to run away together but mostly the bribery and mugging and stalking OBVIOUSLY) ☹️

#this man over here dying because Stede never called him romantic #but like cuppie cake he thinks you breathing near him is romantic #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ed x stede #stede bonnet #the gentleman pirate #ed teach #edward teach #blackbeard #our flag means death #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 #ofmd

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