Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley X Female Reader

Hello Valiants!! I've been lurking and simply obsessed with your art and writing of them for a while and I was wondering if you have ever done a comic about how the rest of the team take ghostsoap's relationship? Or is it a secret? Ignore this if you have hehe

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 Hmm maybe this or this Price one was close, but here's an update... (I think it's BARELY a secret)

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

So, uh I sorta try to do a edit(?) İts my first time so sorry if you didn’t like it? İs anybody have any idea where i can do good edits?

Sometimes, Jason Todd gets this haunted look in his eyes. You don't quite know where he goes. Well, you have a vague idea, but you don't know.

You don't know what he's remembering when his hand starts to shake in yours. You don't know what he's feeling when his pulse starts to jump against his skin. You don't know what he's thinking when his breathing starts to shallow.

A part of you is glad not to know. What he has told you horrifies you, haunts your nightmares when his side of the bed has long since gone cold. When he's away from your side, protecting the city from the very monsters that tried to break him.

But a bigger part of you wants to share in his burdens. You want to help him carry the weight of his past, the memories that make his skin go cool and clammy despite his every effort to appear calm and collected.

But how can you protect him from what stalks him in his own mind? How can you soothe the scars that aren't physical, ease the thoughts he can't bear to say out loud?

You don't think you can.

But Jason holds your hand just the slightest bit tighter when you shift your weight, the only sign he gives that he's begging you not to go. His eyes, so desperate and distant, soften and clear just a little when they finally meet yours.

He comes so willingly, when you offer your shoulder for him to tuck his face into, to let him rest his weight againt yours and hide away from the world for just a moment.

And you know that you can't fix everything, nor can you fight all of his demons for him. But you can make it easier for him to find his way home.

You can hold him together, wrap your arms around his shoulders and keep him here, in this moment, with you, until there's not a doubt in his mind that you'll wait for him.

You'll stay, anchoring him to here and now, for as long as it takes for him to steady the racing of his heart in his chest. You'll always stay right where he needs you.

Tsukishima thinks breaking up with you is the stupidest thing he's ever done.

Despite completely rationalizing it in his head, watching his grades slip as you two grow closer and closer, the only reasonable thing to do is break it off, right? You've started to become a distraction- an obstacle in his path to his future.

It's not like you two were dating for long- nothing important happened in the 6 short months you two were together. So even as his heart cracks as he watches you silently sniffle and leave his car, his grip tightens on the wheel, he sits in silence as he drives away.

His schedule becomes mundane once again, his room silent instead of the sounds of your laughter, or the videos you'd watch on your phone with the volume high enough to catch his attention. His meals continue without a dessert, ones that you'd normally bring nearly every other day. You aren't at his games, and he still finds himself scanning the crowd to search for you nonetheless.

Against his hopes and to his dismay, his grades get worse. He's losing sleep and shows up late to practice, his bitter mood bringing down the team. No one nearby is safe from a snide comment or an instigating remark.

Every single time he closes his eyes, turns around the corner- he sees you. He hears your laughter echo in the hallways, but every time he (not so subtly) quickens his pace to get a glance- you're gone. It makes him wonder if you were there in the first place.

He's nearly yanking at his hair, groaning in frustration before sighing, letting his hands flop onto his desk as he glances at the picture next to his laptop- the only photo he's ever bothered to frame. You're smiling up at him with a bouquet of flowers he'd gotten you for your birthday, gleaming as the sun highlights your eyelashes.

-

The winter chill has set in and the snow lightly falls outside your window, you almost consider calling Tsukishima to cancel your date- maybe postpone to the next weekend. Before you could even open your phone, a firm knock on the door interrupts. You're greeted by Tsukishima, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a drink tray in another.

You take the flowers from his hand before opening the door wider to let him in, "I was just about to text you!"

"About what?"

"If we should've canceled- I didn't think you'd want to drive or even walk in this weather."

He nearly glares at you, almost offended at the proposal. "It's your birthday. Why would we postpone it?"

You shrug, looking down at the flowers before setting them down, taking his coat to hang it up before turning back to hug him.

"Thank you. The flowers are beautiful."

He lightly pouts and looks away, not quite used to how open you are with physical affection. Still, his arm pulls you closer and his face turns red, "It was the first one I saw."

A total lie, he spent a good hour and a half in the flower section before buying different sets and arranging one himself. You didn't have to know that.

You admire the flowers one more time, admiring the pinks of the roses and the light purple dusting the edges of the snapdragons, down to the way the baby's breath flows alongside the greenery. Your smile is bright as you look up at Kei, noticing how he takes his phone, the shutter of his camera snapping quickly before he deftly puts his phone away, turning to hand you the warm chai he grabbed before he came in.

-

The dried bouquet of flowers on your windowsill is haunting, menacing almost. The sight of them alone makes your stomach bubble and churn at the memories that accompanied them.

It's darker now- the petals brittle and fragile. You had made the effort to dry them and immortalize their memory- an action you've come to regret since he broke up with you. They still remain perched delicately on your windowsill, the vase tied with a ribbon and a note that had "happy birthday" in his handwriting.

The days passing by had felt like a blur- meshing together as each day grows more repetitive. Kei was no longer nearby to tease you, to berate you for getting questions on the homework, to hold your hand as you walked through the freezing winter to school. The mindless chatter and gossip from your friends went stagnant in your head, all you could think about was Kei.

Spring has come to a full bloom, the cherry blossoms littering the sidewalks as you stroll through the streets. The "ding!" of the cafe bell rings as you walk in, only to be met with a familiar head of blonde hair, slightly mussed and unkept.

You almost wonder if you should turn around and leave- but you decide against it. He broke up with you for a normal reason. His grades were slipping and he's just trying to be considerate about his future. He wasn't mean or unkind, there wasn't any reason to hold a grudge or hide from him.

You take your spot behind him in line, thankful he doesn't peek behind. It's not until he moves to the side and hears you ordering does he turn around to see you.

And oh, is he drinking in the sight. You're as beautiful as ever, hair cascading down the back of your sweater, half held up by a clip to get a clear view of your face. He can't decide if he's relieved or upset to see you. Tsukishima stares, nonetheless, tired eyes locked onto you as you happily conversate with the barista before eventually moving to the side as well, locking eyes with him.

Tsukishima is normally well kept, but today he looked- for lack of a better word, like shit. If his hair wasn't a dead giveaway, the bags under his eyes were. His shirt was crinkled and half tucked in, and his zip up had a mustard? stain on the left side.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and a nod of acknowledgement before looking off in a different direction, and Tsukishima swears his world ended. It was what felt like the worst day of his life and the person he wanted most won't even glance at him.

It's his fault, either way.

He feels like a creep as he waits outside the cafe, waiting for a chance to talk to you. Usually quick-witted and composed, Tsukishima struggles to figure out what to even say to you. Why he wanted to talk to you in the first place.

As you exit the cafe, he watches you briskly walk away, barely noticing him as your face is buried in your phone. Kei barely thinks as he follows behind, grabbing your wrist to turn you around.

When you look back up at him, his heart swells at the sight of your face. He's stuck once again, hand dropping to his side as he looks at you as if it's the last time he'll ever see you again. It might as well be, if he fucks up this chance.

"Hi."

You look at him hesitantly before smiling, "Hey."

"How are you."

A laugh almost escapes your lips at how stiff he is, frozen still as his brown eyes bore into your soul.

"I'm doing alright, how are you?"

"Terrible."

Your brows furrow as he looks down and to the side nervously. Eyes slightly flitting as he waits for a response.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

It's silent. Painfully silent. He wishes you would start talking and never shut up like you used to, for something, any kind of response. He's never felt so strained while talking to you. He's never been this stuck, this frozen while standing in front of you.

"I should have never broken up with you. I'm sorry."

You stiffen and Kei's heart drops to his ass, knowing he definitely fucked this up. You're never going to want to talk to him again and he won't be able to see your face, tell you where you misplaced your things, to hear your voice first thing in the morning once he leaves his house. He's already gone this far- his accidental blurt put him six feet under. It probably wouldn't hurt to dig a little more.

"You weren't the problem. You're not a distraction. I've done exponentially worse in everything, and my teammates are sick of me. I haven't been able to sleep because every time I try to close my eyes; I think of you and how stupid I was to break up with you because I thought you were some stupid distraction."

You're still stunned a little bit, and to his surprise, you laugh.

He thanks whatever god might exist, because he thought he might never hear it again. He doesn't even care if it might be at him or the situation, all Tsukishima can do is admire as you catch your breath.

Tsukishima swears he might actually become religious, because instead of breaking him off and walking away, which you could have done, you invite him for another drink in the cafe.

-

Tsukishima's voice is soft as you dry his (now freshly cut) hair, "I love you."

You snicker as you throw the towel at his face, "Love me so much that you broke up with me?"

He can't argue, so he rolls his eyes and pulls you in for a kiss to shut you up.

Fic recs - oneshots (part 2)

Felt like doing another post like this (might make it into a weekly thing idk, until I run out of recs I guess lol)

So like before, this post includes only sfw oneshots:

nothin' gonna hurt you, baby (nothin's gonna make you cry) by MikaelLo - Ghost is captured and drugged while on a mission. Soap finds him and together they deal with the fallout.

Shaken by bleepyear - Soap is haunted by the events of Chicago. His hands won't stop shaking when he holds a weapon. Ghost notices.

In A Hole In The Earth by Louffox - Soap is told to shut it on a mission. He takes it too seriously when he falls down a well. (this one is one of my favorites)

Dead & Bloated by saucebass_yahoo - Soap learns something shocking about Ghost that sets a plan into motion. Do dead men celebrate birthdays?

A Burning Hill by dandeliondick - Soap stopped touching Ghost completely one day. Ghost spirals.

Break Stuff by shiftpink - Soap has trouble making it through the day without wanting to break something. Ghost helps his friend.

you're my end and my beginning by crown_twist - What if teenage Simon got a sneak peek of John MacTavish? (this one is so fuckin sweet it kills me every time)

stay by crown_twist - Soap finally figures it out, and promptly fucks it up.

watch by crown_twist - Soap confesses to the wrong person

get high in the moonlight by wolfspit - Ghost gets drugged and it's not the "fun" kind of drug. Soap keeps him from choking on his own spit.

keeping you safe by oh_ellie - Ghost and Soap always see each other off for their missions. Except for the time Soap was too agitated at Ghost. And that's where he fucked up.

lipstick marks and teacups by flyby2 - Soap finds Ghost making tea when sleep evades them both.

Sit For You by Shitty_Nerds_N0tes - After a rough mission, Soap picks up his old sketchbook and Ghost gets a look inside.

Hypothermic Heartaches by Gummichii - Soap becomes hypothermic and starts taking off clothes. Ghost has to find him before it's too late.

sweet by ElizaStyx - It's the middle of a sleepless night, Ghost and Soap slow dance in the moonlight.

stay frosty by orphan_account - another hypothermia fic, this time both of them freeze their ass off [idk why I have so many of these lmao]

All I wanted Was You by Aessedia - Soap gets injured on duty. Ghost sees it happen and becomes feral in his need to save him.

Choosing Regrets by Sillililli - Simon thinks he can talk Johnny out of wanting him, but Johnny's always one step ahead. [edit: this one is nsfw I labelled it incorrectly in my own notes 😓]

last vision by sherashalala - Soap gets injured and thinks that hiding said injury is a good idea.

Heather by eddie_dxaz - Soap finds a girlfriend. Ghost struggles with it.

I'll stop here for today, still have an unreasonable amount to go through, and that's not mentioning any fics that don't fall into these categories! But I'm happy to do this, wanted to show fic writers some love, since a lot of these really deserve more haha

it's takes time with simon, patience, to wait for him until he warms up enough to crawl out from beneath his shell towards you, a shelter he built around, a place he let you approach, but never really left it, even when you started a relationship, a thing much closer than just a greetings and small hugs, ravenous kisses, long embraces, whispered, searing pet names, he still hesitated.

to let you see how his life looks, the military part of him, aside from a dirty gear he comes back home in, his friends, stories, his apartment, spacious, but too empty to be related as a home, his soul, the triggers and traumas that forever here to haunt him, simon never really leaves behind the ghost of himself, something he embraced instead.

so when he takes you with him to the town pub, not to spend time together, but to let you meet face forward with the curious, bewildered gazes of his military comrades, even his captain startled to see simon bring up anyone alongside himself, the realization makes something in you squeeze, throbbing right against your thumping, racing heart, overcoming with the sting that makes your eyes blink rapid, until a heavy arm tugs you almost forcefully close.

simon cradles you close to the curve of his side, fitting right against the slope of his waist, encircled fully with his draping hand, a protective gesture, a sharp, intent undertone to his smoldering eyes, catching the dim light of the room, he tongues at his cheek, gives a little bite to the tender flesh on the inside, calloused fingers spanning across the curvature of your hip, when his chest rumbles, reverberates through you whole, how he introduces you, his girl.

it's settles deep, the acknowledge, or a confession, hooking and tearing in your skin, sparkling like something long awaited, forgotten as a thing that would likely never happen, but it's there, voiced out to the stilling air between you all, the open mouths of his friends, simon's nose nudging in the crown of your head, leaving there a tender, flaming kiss that travels to your cheeks with heat, as you stutter, squeak a weak greeting, and their eyes soften, sweet and hopeful.

you hear a lot about simon this evening, how cool he is, hard as a rock, a good man, settled shy and pliable on his one thigh, muscular and solid beneath the suppleness of your body he holds tight, barking a laugh, crooked grin here and there while they talk, telling you things that seem like a secrets, but they're told in his presence, so you soak everything in, every little detail you're now have a permission to hold, close to your heart, nodding, giggling tender and raw, thanking every minute of what's happening.

his team is good, you scroll in your head when you both leave the pub, biding farewells out in the nighty, cold street, simon's jacket heavy and smelling with something heady over your shoulders, they loved you, made some affectionate nicknames that you're would definitely called again if you'll meet in the future, and it's stacks in behind your ribcage, heavy and bubbling, you suppress it all the way back to home, leaning on the sturdy warmth of the body you're cradled close to.

it's spills out unexpected, like a cork popping out from the wine bottle, pouring seemingly unstoppable, when simon lays you down on the cottony, cold sheets of your shared bed, tingling shivers trailing up from your curling toes at the contact, at the contrast of his chapped, scorching lips over your body and face, peppering sugary, gentle kisses, you sense the hunger in there, see through blearing haze at your eyes how his jawline tightens, teeth's grinding together, as he undresses you down.

you cry when he sheathes himself deep in, soppy, spasming cunt squeezed tight and wet around his bothered, engorged cock, walls seizing at the slip of your emotions, at the sob you let out, scaring something from simon that makes him pull you close instantly, bending awkwardly, tugging you against his sweating, firm chest, heart hammering beneath your ear and wet, tear streaked face as he rasps worried, short questions, listening at the way you choke small whimpers.

simon holds you still until you calm down enough to tell him, share all the worries you had, how patiently you waited for all of this, to hear how he proudly calls you his, introduces to his another slice of life, takes you forward with him hand in hand, as you weep, giggle during your speech, and he chuckles, not rude, brushing off way, it's as raw as your tears, hoarse, joyful in another kind, and he whispers then, voice mirroring yours in it's wetness, thanking you for being there all this time.

now his, for forever, and only, with nothing to wait for no more.

main masterlist. quidelines.

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。08:00 PM — AL-HAITHAM.

idk i just felt like. writing haitham grieving his grandmother. it’s also a slight character study ig. idk if anyone will read this but if you do. just know that he is the core of my heart. his grandmother too i mourn her death so much sobs

“hey,” you say gently, sitting next to him. al-haitham only grunts in acknowledgment, slumped on the couch. “d’you want dinner? i made your favorite.”

“not hungry,” he mumbles.

his grandmother’s death anniversary is a sore spot. it’s a day you tiptoe around carefully every year. you don’t know much about his family—just that he was orphaned very young and raised by his father’s mother until the ripe age of 16. you’ve seen the dainty handwriting inside the covers of books, and you’ve even seen a small, framed photograph that he keeps stowed away.

sometimes, you wish he’d tell you. you wish the far away look and the clenched fist around the fabric of his pants would ease with your presence. you wish he’d tell you about her, that you’d know the woman who raised the man you love—even if only through hushed words and old stories.

“you hate sleeping on an empty stomach,” you hum, placing your hand over his clenched one.

his fist loosens a little—progress.

“i…” he pauses, let’s out a heavy sigh before letting his head fall back. there’s tension in his shoulders, in his neck, in the jaw he keeps so tightly clenched. “i won’t be sleeping for a bit. sorry,” he tries to sound apologetic. you don’t hear much in his tone besides defeat. “you can head in without me.”

“that’s okay,” you shrug, forcing his clenched fingers apart to weave yours in with his. “i don’t sleep well without you anyway.”

“suit yourself,” is all he says.

and it’s silent for a bit. he seems to be thinking deeply—or reminiscing, maybe grieving. maybe all three, but you’re not too sure. you’re never too sure when it comes to how al-haitham feels about anything.

he’s hard to decipher—but he’s easy to pull apart. you don’t understand how someone as hard and calculating as him is so gentle with love, but it’s hard not to notice how soft his touch is, how it lingers, how the tips of his fingers long for you. you don’t doubt he loves you—he never gives you the chance to.

but sometimes….sometimes you wish he’d let you love him properly. to kiss the scars. to admire the parts he thinks are ugly. to shelter the thoughts that have no home besides his own head.

it’s silent for a bit—until it’s not. you break the silence first, like you’re holding a hand out for him from the shore as he drifts aimlessly.

“baby?” you ask quietly. he grunts again in response. “what was she like?”

“who?”

al-haitham is a smart man. probably the smartest you’ve ever met. you don’t think you’ve ever met someone who read physics books as a pastime, and you’re pretty certain he’ll always be the only one. you know he knows exactly what what you’re asking and you know he’s avoiding it.

but it doesn’t stop you though—it’s been long enough, you think. you’ve known him long enough. craved him for a few summers and loved him for enough winters that he has pieces of you that fall through the cracks of your resolve.

you think you deserve a few pieces of him too—even if your fingers have to reach past the cracks themselves, even if they have to slice against the jagged edges and bleed a little in the process.

you’ll bleed for him—like the sun rises from the east and sets in the west, your heart beats for al-haitham. and it’ll bleed for him too.

“your grandmother,” you whisper. “you’ve never told me about her.”

“there’s not much to tell,” he shrugs. “she died right before i enrolled in the akademiya and she raised me after my parents died.”

“i’m sure there’s more,” you say gently—his grip has tightened on your hand now. you don’t think he realizes—in fact, you don’t think al-haitham realizes half of what he feels when it comes to vulnerability.

it’s why he realizes he loves you so late. it’s why you fall first and he falls after. but he falls harder—it’s not hard to see.

“she was a ksharewar scholar,” he offers blankly.

your thumb brushes over his knuckles, and it’s almost like your hand reaches past the shore just a little further—you don’t mind risking the fall into the water if it means pulling him out.

“haitham,” you sigh delicately. he swallows. it’s hard to keep composure for long—even for someone like him.

grief is an evil thing. it’s a familiar friend—one you wish you never made and one you’ll never shake away. it dances with you under the moonlight, when the stars are bright but the sky is heavy. it barely grazes your skin some days but weighs into your bones on others. it’s a cruel thing really—and it hits you harder some moments than others.

“she was kind,” he starts slowly, his hand reaching out and grabbing yours over the shoreline. maybe, just maybe, sometimes he can get tired of drifting too. “she liked to bake. her hands got too weak to knead dough when i got older, though. you would have liked her tarts. she couldn’t read without her glasses and she always forgot they were on her head. she said my father looked like her husband and that i look like my father. she used to ask me to read to her sometimes so i’d sit on her lap and read my books out loud. she loved the sunrise but was never good at waking up on time to see it. she used to drink tea during sunsets. she liked hers extra sweet and i liked mine more bitter. i…” he pauses, voice shaky as his fingers dig into your hand. you squeeze, and he sniffles. “i haven’t had tea since she passed.”

“she sounds lovely,” you whisper. “i would have loved to meet her.”

“she’d have loved you,” he cracks a small smile, shaking his head as he thinks. “probably more than she loved me.”

“i’m sure i’d never compare to her darling grandson,” you chuckle, bumping arms with him. his head drops to your shoulder—you hesitate for a moment before deciding to pull him into your chest. and when he doesn’t protest, when he buries himself into you instead of pulling away, you thread your fingers into his hair.

“i miss her,” he croaks quietly.

“i know,” you soothe. “i know, baby.”

al-haitham has only ever known love twice in his life. one is gone but it lives through the other. the gentle touch against his scalp and the warmth under his cheek is familiar—it feels like the lap he slept on when he was six. it feels like the delicate hands that cupped his cheeks when he was eight. it feels like the soft kisses against his temple when he was ten.

al-haitham has only ever known love twice in his life, and he’s glad that one of them is you.

“you’d have loved her too,” his voice breaks. you kiss his head as you feel your shirt dampen.

“i already do,” you murmur, “she raised you well. i have her to thank.”

his breath hitches at that—and then he pulls you closer, grasps you tighter, falls in love with you harder. his grandmother’s death anniversary has always been a sore spot—but somehow, you numb the ache even if by just a little.

gently, your hand clasps his and pulls him to shore. he’s grateful he doesn’t have to drift alone anymore.

there is nothing i’m more obsessed with than al-haitham’s childhood. i have so many thought about it. and him. and his character. and his inner thoughts and feelings and most of them revolve around his grandmother and more importantly her passing. and idk. he’s just sosososo important to me i wish we knew more about his grandmother. i love her so much i grieve her passing even though we’ve never even met her 😭

Service Dog Johnny Headcanons:

Johnny is a service dog to Reader as well

Why Simon chose Reader

Why Simon only 🖐️ 🍆 with Johnny there

Johnny/Reader kink dynamic

Pre-sex briefing

Why Johnny thinks he’s unlovable

Why Johnny and Simon joke about sex with each other

Why Simon doesn’t touch himself with Reader

Simon/Johnny romantic differences

Johnny's Love

Johnny’s motivation and beliefs about the situation

The first time Simon told Reader about his trauma

Simon’s support system

Simon’s trauma makes it hard to keep up sometimes

Simon getting jealous

Johnny is okay

Who’s getting cast aside?

Missing piece of the pentagram

Simon’s house

What Simon whispered to Johnny

Rough sex between Simon and Reader

Catching feelings

Ghost is a war criminal

Service Dog Johnny Drabbles/Bonus Scenes

"First time she ever showed me--"

Being silly with Bob

Cigarettes

Simon therapy

Pet names

Girlfriend

Johnny POV Part 1 (Laney)

Johnny POV Part 2 (Falling for her)

Johnny POV Part 3 (Family Day)

Johnny POV Part 4 (Rehab)

Johnny POV Part 5 (You’re a good person)

Johnny POV Part 6 (Just a graze)

Johnny POV Part 7 (Ghost in the bedroom)

Johnny POV Part 8 (Crafts)

Johnny POV Part 9 (Baby)

Johnny POV part 10 - Johnny comes over

Johnny POV Part 11 (Tinder)

Johnny POV Part 12 (Rookie)

Simon POV Part 1 (No bra)

Simon POV Part 2 (butterfly in the garden)

Simon POV Part 3 (help me help you)

Simon POV Part 4 (BJ)

Simon POV Part 5 (Shoelace)

⬅️ Back to Service Dog Johnny main page

Jason Todd

Haven't I given enough?

Would the Bat boys date someone older or younger?

How many kids do they want? How many do they actually end up with?

How the batboys would react to you labeling them as your property.

Referring to him as your boyfriend

Flirty partner

Cat Jason

Hard Day

Jason x Fem mechanic

Gala with secret girlfriend

His birthday

Protecting his peace

Hiding his girlfriend from his family

Hiding his girlfriend from his family pt.2

Bubble Baths

Jason x Empath

Gentle love

dress up

Club owner Jason x employee

You turn into a cat

You're depressed

He hates wearing his glasses

Panic attack

His apartment is empty

Tender intimacy

Praise Kink

Worst Habit

He needs control

Your parents adore him

How long does it take them to get engaged and married?

He likes your pulse

Restless sleeper

Feeding from you

Mistrust

Jason x Southern Bell reader

Give and Take

Unlovable to everyone but him

Useful

Saving his partner during a crisis

Coming back from patrol

Boxer Jason x owners' daughter

He can't get sick

He's insecure

Jason x burnt out student

Your attire is always perfect

His family doesn't believe he has a wife and daughter