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peachesofteal · 6 months

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Black Sun

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/female reader 5.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Dark and twisty. Explicit sex, dubious consent, forced breeding/pregnancy kink, praise kink, size difference, creampie. Simon is insane about you. Panty sniffing/stealing. Obsessive behavior. Possessive Simon Riley. Alcohol. Reader is prescribed/taking muscle relaxers. Toxic but I think it's sweet. Angst, comfort, emotional hurt/comfort. Tags are for your health, not mine. Simon never wanted a divorce.

Simon does not consider himself a common criminal.

A war criminal, perhaps. The things he’s done for the 141 would put him behind bar in over fifty countries, and on death row in at least eight. The things he’s seen alone make him eligible for life in a padded room, and that’s if you don’t count the things that have happened to him.

But he’s never stooped to petty crime like this before. Before this mess. Before you asked for a divorce, insisted he move out, demanded time apart.

There’s a first time for everything, he thinks. First time for a lot of things, actually. The first time he actively tried to avoid the divorce paperwork, first time he let his obsession take him this far, first time he indulged in his darkest fantasies, things he wouldn’t even dare whisper about to Price-

The door welcomes him like it always does, squeak gone from the hinges, greased out by his hands in the middle of the night last week, swinging wide so he can silently step across the threshold… into his house. Into yours.

Riley whines in greeting, lowering himself into a play bow, and Simon kneels to pet him, rubbing his between the ears and under the chin just how he likes, before instructing him back to his bed, to keep watch. He’d maul another man who tried to step foot in here, per his training, but his dad- his dad is okay. His dad is allowed.

It’s not that he’s too far gone to recognize the complete dismantlement of your boundaries, it’s that he doesn’t care. The chilling fear of losing you has seeped deep into his bones, fostering the growth of a plan that he knows is not rational, or right.

He knows what he is doing is wrong, but he cannot stop himself.

You are his. His wife. His life, his person, his reason for it all. You’re the sun and the moon and the stars and everything that makes this miserable fucking existence worth living.

He’ll do anything to keep you.

Anything.

So, it doesn’t feel wrong when he stands in the bedroom at the foot of his bed, watching you sleep, twisted up in the blankets, favoring your one side like your shoulder must have been bothering you before you fell asleep. It concerns him, worries him, this lack of improvement regarding your pain, and he wonders if maybe you should be in physical therapy.

It doesn’t feel wrong, when he traces the curve of your ass, perked up in the sheets, as if you’re waiting for him to strip your ratty little sleep shorts down to your knees and shove his cock to your cervix. He wonders if you’d even wake up if he rubbed his nose across the seam of your cunt. You’ve always been a heavy sleeper, through thunder or commotion, you’d stay sweet with your lashes flush against your cheeks, mouth slightly open in a soft snore.

He leans over you in bed, stroking the back of your head with his hand before pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple, something he knows won’t stir you, not with you how deep you’re dreaming, and certainly not with the muscle relaxer in your system.

He is a stealth operator, after all. It’s not like he hasn’t been watching, observing your new routines, the changes to your schedules and habits that have appeared over these last few months. The muscle relaxers, for example, that were prescribed for the strain in your neck and shoulder, that you’ve been taking once an evening for a week and a half, around six thirty. They’re extended release, usually able to keep you mostly pain free through the night, and he’s grateful to your doctor for insisting upon them. For more reasons than one.

He gives you another light kiss before pulling the sheet up around your shoulders, tucking you in how you like. You get cold in the middle of the night, icicle toes usually wandering across the mattress to seek the space between his thighs for warmth, shocking him into a gasp that would elicit a string of sleepy giggles from your mouth. He makes sure you’re comfortable, before slinking onto the second part of his routine.

The bathroom.

Every night, he holds his breath as the medicine cabinet pops open. He hates the anticipation, the fear of what he could discover, dreads the idea of having to start the clock over or worse, swap them for placebo. You never disappoint him though, and he catalogues the perfectly color-coded rows of birth control pills that haven’t been touched in over a month, not since his last op with wicked desire hearting his belly. What a good girl you are.

Before, he would have told you the opposite. He did, tell you the opposite. He told you were good, so good, for taking your pills, for making sure that you were safe for him, that there wouldn’t be any accidents. Guilt would eat at him each time the two of you had the argument, the ‘discussion’, about having a baby, and you would cry with misery staining your cheeks.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” He tried to tell you, dozens of times, that he didn’t think he’d be good at it, that he wouldn’t like being gone so much, leaving you at home all the time with a baby.

“I love you, Simon. I want to have a baby, with you. My husband. Is that so wrong?” You would cry, and he could feel the weight of his choice breaking you apart, the pressure cracking beneath his skull.

“You… you don’t understand. I- I can’t.”

It’s not why you asked for a divorce, but it certainly played a part.

Something catches his eye when he turns to leave, a wayward item of clothing hanging haphazardly outside of the hamper.

Your underwear.

He plucks the scrap of blue lace and cotton from the edge and balls it into his fist, bringing it to his nose with a deep inhale. It’s sick, the way he needs you, the way the smell of your dirty panties, the honeyed ambrosia of your musk, makes his mouth water like a juvenile. Before he can change his mind, he shoves them in his pocket. He doesn’t usually take things, too aware of potentially tipping you off, but this; this is something he needs.

“Simon, can we please just… can we please just meet up and at least look at these papers?” It’s early for you to be up, on a Saturday, and he frowns at the screen in contemplation. Before, you’d never be up this early. Before, you would have insisted he stay under the covers with you, would have draped your body over his eagerly to convince him, sweetening him to your side with barely a whisper.

“How many weekends do we even get, anyway? This is your first one home in weeks. Stay in bed with me.” And he would, because of course he would. Because there was no place he’d rather be in those moments, curled up in bed, his nose in your hair, watching the rise and fall of your chest just to be sure it was all real, that it wasn’t some cruel dream that would disappear as soon as he woke up.

“You’ve been home for two weeks and haven’t even looked at them.” He grits his teeth, pressing the hard edge of his phone into his cheek. He can’t be divorced if there’s no signature. But you sound exasperated, stressed, and he’s eager to fix it for you, easily agreeing without too much badgering.

“Alright, sweetheart. Alright. I’ll meet you.”

He cannot believe his luck.

You’re nervous. Your hands flitter about, constantly touching the table, the silverware, your sore shoulder, the manilla envelope before finding the stem of your wine glass and tilting it to your lips, swallowing the alcohol over and over without any kind of hesitation. You must not have taken the muscle relaxer. He's well versed in navigating your emotions, calming you into a relaxed state with a few words or a reassuring touch, and he wants to reach out and take your hand in his, soothe you, tell you that everything is alright but… it would serve no purpose for him tonight. Sorry, sweet girl. He sits at the little two top across from you with his arms crossed, watching his lack of interest in the conversation break you down, little by little, until you’re ordering another glass of wine, and then a third, all while he nurses the same glass of bourbon. The alcohol distracts you, strays you from your course, and you eventually stop trying to try talk about that bloody manilla envelope, leaning to one side a little more than the other in your chair. When you order a shot after dinner is over, he doesn’t protest, just watches your tongue follow the seam of the citrus wedge, dabbing along the spongy white fibers before your teeth dig into the flesh of it, lime juice squirting across your tongue.

He loves you drunk. Loves you sober, loves you tired, or grumpy, or smiling. He loves you anyway he can get you, but sometimes, when you’re like this, your smile sweet like sticky toffee, buzzing and humming, it helps him get away from himself, helps him stay present and lost inside you, swept up in you. It makes him think about the honeymoon, your feet buried in the sand, tucked away in secluded cove, no one around for miles. He fucked you on the beach, fucked you in the ocean, fucked you in someone else’s cabana that day, and you giggled the whole time. Pearly pitched music that wrapped in him the strongest feeling of bliss, skin that tasted like brine and sun, your hand in his on the walk back the hotel, peeking under your wide brim hat every few minutes to press his lips to yours.

“Wan’ one?” He shakes his head, but pulls your hand into his, feeling the warmth of your skin. When you don’t pull away, his blood heats, churning through his veins like fire. “Figured.” You sigh, and then flash him a mischievous, coy grin. Cheeky girl. Think you’re so clever. “Want to get out of here?” You croon, and he smiles indulgently behind the mask. “Lead the way.”

You’re giggly, excited when he bends you over the table, the kitchen table where you used to eat together, breakfast for dinner when he’d come home, waffles and bacon at one in the morning.

You don’t protest when he slides your skirt down your hips and over your ass, thumbs spreading you wide to reveal your glistening cunt, twitching and desperate.

“My poor girl, has it been so long?” He coos, relishing in the way you moan with your lips on the wood. He knows it has, knows you haven’t been with anyone since the last time he fucked you, months and months ago, on the night you asked for the divorce. “Shhh. I’m here now, I’m gonna take care of it.”

“You have to pull out.” You slur, breath hot, fogging against the finish of the table. “Promise.” He grunts something under his breath, nonsense, but you can’t tell the difference, and when he slides inside your scorching cunt, you howl, breath hitching with the stretch.

Bleedin’ Christ. You’re so tight, so wet, soaked enough that it sticks to the curls around the base of his cock. How could he ever give this up?

“That’s it.” He kisses your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back with his weight, pinning you in place, his hands clamping down around your wrists like shackles. “Squeeze me tight, good girl. Show me-“ Show me how you’re going to hold my come in your tight little pussy once I fill you- comes to mind, but he bites his tongue instead, not willing to tip you off too soon.

To have and to hold. In sickness and in health. For better or worse.

I promise to love and cherish you.

Till death does us part.

Till death.

“Simooon.” You sing, hips start to push back with him, fucking yourself onto his cock, chasing him, chasing your pleasure, mouth half open with the little pants and whines that are music to his ears. He keeps you pinned, flat against the table, fingers between your legs, stroking your clit, shoving you closer to your orgasm, delightfully pleased by the way your pussy pulses around him.

“Come on.” He urges, big hand between you and the table, pressing against your lower belly, still tapping away at your clit, indulging in the trembling of your legs.

“Fuck- fuck, Si.” You cry, clenching down around him with your orgasm, voice breaking.

“There it is… what a good girl.” He hisses, keeping his pace, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s notching himself nearly inside your womb. It’s overwhelming for you, he knows, but he doesn’t stop swirling his fingers around your clit, zapping electric pulses through body.

“Nngh Si. Too- ooh it’s- it’s too much.” You wail, a tear on your cheek, and he nods, nosing above your ear.

“I know. You’re doing so good for me, so perfect.” It’s whispered with a groan, hands stroking your hip, keeping your steady, in place. “Just need a little more, just- just a little, I’m gonna-“

“What-” You ask, more with it now that you recognize the edge he’s riding, the roughness in his voice clueing you in to where he is, but he sends you back into orbit, pressing your clit and working you in circles. “Oh, oh.” Your hips rock, and he moves with the momentum, fucking into you faster, grunting the truth as he speeds towards the cliff, desperate to drive the car over the edge, eager to change the course of his life, your life, his marriage.

“Take it.” He spits, wide palm spread across your shoulder. Everything in him tightens, fire spreading through his veins, pressure rising in his body like a fucking tea kettle, about to scream out a whistle. He’s going to breed you, fuck you deep with his come and put a baby inside you, give you what you want, what you’ve always said you wanted, the thing that made you cry in the middle of the night when he refused.

Well, he’s going to give it to you now.

“Fuck- here it comes.” You rock again, half lost to the world, eyes glazed over in pleasure, spasming around his cock with your second orgasm. He slams into you, burying deep and you keen, fingers gripping the edge of the table, his hips flush with yours like a lock.

And he’ll throw away the key.

You blame yourself for the first time.

You blame your nerves. Your lack of self-control. You drank too much, trying to fight the anxiety that was threatening to spill from your mouth by way of your tongue.

And well, didn’t he just look too fucking good, sitting across from you at dinner. Eyes on your lips. Hand dwarfing the rocks glass. Shoulders broader than a door frame. He put on mass since you saw him last, and you spent half the meal trying not to think about stripping his shirt off so you could inspect for new wounds, new scars, new stretch marks.

And didn’t he feel so fucking good too, bending you over the kitchen table, sliding into you from behind with almost no prep, hint of pain making you see stars, just the way you like it. Fucking you like the man you married, like the man you fell in love with. Calling you his good girl and making you come all over his cock like a champ.

You blame him for the second time.

You could blame yourself, for inviting him over- but your intention was clear. Sign the papers. Discuss the house. Be done with it all and close this chapter. Move on with your life, with both your lives.

But he showed up on the wrong day, at the wrong time, with a bottle of your favorite wine, the malbec. The one from your first anniversary, with a large pizza, thin crust with extra cheese (your favorite) and an order of garlic knots.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d eaten or not, figured I’d pick something up, just in case.” He shrugged, and just like that, you were bereft of words, staring at him with nothing coming to mind. Didn’t you say tomorrow? You stood in the door, blinking, Riley whining behind you, already eager to see his dad. “Sweetheart? You feelin’ okay?” His hand was on your arm, warm, thumb rubbing a circle on the inside of your elbow, and even that small amount of contact, that little trickle of concern, sent you into a spiral, muscle relaxer already working its way through your system, slowing your response time, making your brain a little fuzzy. His eyes shimmered in the porchlight, and you nodded, robotically, feet still stuck in the doorway, until he was prompting you to let him inside. “Can I come in then, get this signing business done?”

You ate pizza and drank a glass of wine (frowned upon considering your medication, but one glass couldn’t kill you, right?) out of regular glassware (a sin, if anyone asked your poor mother) as the manilla envelope sat on the coffee table and practically watched the two of you, oozing with judgement.

You’re supposed to be divorcing. Not cozying up on the god damn couch. Weren’t you the one who told him to find a new place to live? Weren’t you the one who said the two of you wanted different things in life, from it? Weren’t you the one did this, pushed him away, shoved him out the door, told him it was all too little, too late?

But when his fingertips drifted to the top of your spine and then over, like he knew exactly where you were tender, you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into his touch, more and more until he had your back against his chest, strong grip on your shoulder, working your taut muscles with expertise.

His fingers dig deep, groan slipping between your teeth, breathy and low, enough that he’s immediately releasing you.

“Did I hurt you?”

“N-no.” You shake your head, which only makes you dizzy. Probably shouldn’t have had that glass of wine. “Feels good.” He chuckles, and tucks you closer, head tipping back into his chest, eyes half closed. “Tweaked something in m’shoulder a few weeks ago.” For some reason, you feel the need to explain it, to tell him. “Went for a slide tackle, ended up halfway under the girl. And she was a lot bigger than me.”

“You still playin’ in that women’s league?”

“Every Sunday.”

You were so relaxed, so pliable, that you didn’t utter a single protest when he leaned you back on the couch like a doll, pulling your leggings down and off your ankles, sliding your panties away to bury his face in your pussy. You didn’t want to protest, or stop, or get up off the couch, even though, somewhere, in the back of your logical mind, you knew what you were doing was stupid. You knew, that doing this once was mistake, but doing it twice was just downright foolish. It’s just sex though. He can still just sign the papers and go. Who hasn’t had a little runaround with their soon to be ex-husband before the final nail is hammered in the coffin? You’ve never been a saint, after all.

“Lift your hips.” He taps your side, and you do, letting him slide a throw pillow under them, plumping it under your ass for good measure. “Good girl.” You beam, woozily, and he chuckles, face cracking into something that’s flooded with light, something happy, the face of the man who used to be your husband, used to love you, want a future with you, not just endless rotations around the world with the 141 and a sometimes wife that he sometimes saw.

“You have to pull out.” There’s backbone to your words, but it’s brittle, and easily breakable. “You didn’t listen last time, and ‘m still mad about it.”

“I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His lips press against your thigh, and then your knee, trailing up to where he’s got your ankle in his hips. “You just feel like fuckin’ heaven.” You huff. “I will this time, promise.” He rubs your thigh, zinging your skin with a small slap, your yelp teetering off into a moan when he presses knuckle deep into your sopping wet cunt.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You don’t know why you say it, why you’re so compelled to draw the line in the sand in this moment, when you could have said it any time before hand. Or, even better, had him sign the papers like you originally planned.

“I know.” He shifts you, pulling his occupied fingers free to rearrange your legs, folding your knees back against your chest, the position combined with the pillow under your hips practically tilting you all the way back, the angle enough to make you a little dizzy. Your hand shoots forward to latch onto his forearm for balance, little whimper sneaking away from you, making his brow crease in concern. “I’ve got you.” He whispers against your cheek, lips ghosting over yours, plucking a sweet kiss from your mouth before there’s heat grazing your opening. He keeps a hand on your knee until he’s pushing inside, thrusting in one fell swoop all the way until he can’t go any further, punching your cervix with the head of his cock, swearing behind a tight jaw. It’s a lot of stretch at this angle, deeper, sharper, and you squirm, adjusting to the pressure of him splitting you open.

“F-fuu-ck.” Your eyes roll back in your head, off somewhere, somewhere not this planet, not this plane of existence where he’s practically in your belly, slick noises bouncing off the walls of your living room, his knees against the pillow, back sloped for enough leverage that he’s practically fucking downwards into you, bent forward with his chest against yours, torso locking you in place, arms around your head like crown. Or a cage. “Si- fuck. It- it hurts.” you babble, gasping into his neck, teeth dangerously close to his shoulder.

“I know, doin’ so good. Almost there.” You start to melt around him, gentled into it, the patting and cooing and kissing sweetening you soft by the passing second. “Easy love, open up for me.” He pants into your mouth, tongue licking in behind your teeth, invading your senses, your very existence, and it’s so much, too much, but you can’t stop. You let yourself get swept away, mind slipping deeper and deeper every time he thumbs your clit, rubbing a circle around the swollen bud, tapping across it just how you like. “Relax, sweetheart, that’s it.” He keeps bringing you closer and closer to coming, playing your body like only a husband could, plucking the strings that make the sweetest melodies, chords vibrating together until you’re clenching down on his cock, spine curling forward, everything inside of you exploding with a blinding, fiery orgasm that has you crying his name, body shaking underneath him with aftershocks. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” He murmurs into your sweat-soaked temple, cock sliding out just to push all the way deep again, hips grinding against your ass in a circle. “Haven’t you, sweet girl?” You nod, because yes, of course. You’re always good.

“Yeeah.” You squeak, vowels heavy, eyes heavy, head heavy, everything too thick underneath the weight of your orgasm, his cock lodged inside you, the muscle relaxer mixed with the Malbec, the chagrined manilla envelope sitting on the table, a mere two feet from your prone body.

“I know. I know you have.” The muscles in his arm flex, tendons in his neck becoming more defined, and his movements stutter, fucking you in a frantic, desperate way, wild with some sort of chaotic need. “I’m gonna give you a gift for it. For being so good.”

“You- you-“ You mean to say you what? What do you mean? What are you talking about? But you can’t get any of it out, only able to watch him through half shuttered eyes, admiring the slope of his jaw, the white of the scar on his chin, the drip of sweat in his clavicle.

“I love you.” A big hand holds your hip upwards, steady, pinning you to the pillow, pace turning hungry, unrelenting, his forehead pressed to yours as he bottoms out, trying to fuck you as deep as possible, to consume you, to drown in you, shoving you further and further up the couch. It’s erratic, and insane, and so- so Simon, that the tears dripping down your cheeks feel normal, everything feels right in your hazy, fucked out brain. “I love you.” He tells you again, and his jaw clicks in your ear. “I love- fuck, fuck, I’m coming.”

You should have protested. You should have reminded him of his promise. Should have said no, remember, you did this last time. We talked about this. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Couldn’t even get your mouth to work right, too spun out on him, on yourself, on floating on a cloud, high above your life, like choices didn’t have consequences. You were blissed out on your own bad decisions, sleepy in the cocoon of an alternate universe with your hips tilted on a pillow, where your husband was still your husband, and not some absent ghost.

You didn’t even protest when he gathered you together in his arms and carried you upstairs. Didn’t mind that he got one of your make up wipes from the bathroom and cleaned your face, tucked you in, and kissed you goodnight.

You didn’t mind any of it, until you woke up the next morning and faced that manilla envelope.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because in a weeks’, two weeks’ time, he’d be somewhere on the other side of the planet, or hemisphere, or country, somewhere classified, doing god knows what. He’d be gone, and you’d be here, just like always. Just like old times. The sex didn’t matter. It meant nothing. You hardly remembered most it, just clips here and there, the taste of his mouth, the feeling of being so full of him. It didn’t matter, and you repeated those three words in the mirror, four, five times in the morning, intentionally not looking at the gleam of your rings, the wedding band and engagement ring, a fated pair… all alone.

Besides, you could always mail the paperwork. Address it to John. He’d make sure it gets taken care of.

You cringed when you thought about the note you’d have to enclose, the awful acknowledgement of your ineptitude- “Hi John, sorry, but could you have Simon sign these when you get a chance?”

And then, everything changed.

“LT!” Soap shouts over the din of the common room, jerking his head towards the office at the end of the hall. “Price needs ye.”

Price is standing behind his desk, arms across his chest when Simon pushes the door open. His lips quirk, head shaking with a sigh. “You have a phone call.” He motions to the landline, one of the only phones in this entire building, currently off the hook, open line waiting in the air. A phone call? “I’ll give you some privacy.”

When the door shuts, and he’s alone with the phone in his hand, he takes a deep breath, and puts it to his ear. “Hello?” His thumb strokes the silicone wedding band on his ring finger, rubbing it in a circle as he waits for a response. This number is for family members and emergencies, real serious shit, and he’s not-

“Simon?” It’s you. It’s your voice on the other end of the line, wet with tears. His heart stops in his chest, lungs frozen in place, anxiety curling in the pit of his stomach. Your crying always puts him on edge, and it’s worse, with him here, and you alone, everything hanging on the precipice. “Simon? Are you there?”

“I’m here. What’s wrong?” He closes his eyes. Say it. Please. Fucking hell. Please.

“I- I need, I have to tell you something.” You’re still crying, hiccupping with distress, and he wishes desperately that he was there with you, holding you, telling you everything going to be okay to your face, instead of over the phone.

“What is it sweetheart?” He tries to encourage, relaxing back into the chair when you take a deep breath. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I’m pregnant.” His palm covers the receiver immediately, just in case, and he thumps the top of Price’s desk with his fist, stupid grin stretching his face wide.

“You’re what?” He feigns shock, confusion. “Did you say… you’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” You blubber.

“I thought you were on the pill, sweet girl. I wouldn’t have-“

“I told you to pull out! And I was b-but I stopped taking it, like two months ago. I forgot and after the first time when you were home, after the restaurant I thought, oh well, I had only been off the pill for a month, less than, after being on it for like fifteen years!” You practically shriek in his ear, a mix of sob and hysteria, trying to suck air into your lungs before continuing. “Getting pregnant after being on it for so long just doesn’t happen. It’s almost impossible! So, I d-didn’t worry about it. And then the second time was only like, two nights after that night and I just thought- I thought everything would be fine! I’m s-s-sorry, I’m so sorry.” You’re babbling, gasping, and he rubs his neck.

“Alright, alright. Hey, hey listen,” you’re still crying, voice cracking over the line and his heart breaks for you, guilt swamping him over you being alone. This was not the plan. He was supposed to be home for this part, to be there for you, if it took. “Sweetheart, breathe. You need to breathe.” You struggle through a few deep breaths, nearly wheezing, and he winces each time. It can't be good for you, or the baby, to be stressed like this. “Good girl, that’s it. Nice an’ slow. Good.”

“I'm sorry. I don’t know what to do, but-” You whisper, like you’re telling a secret, and he closes his eyes, imagining you pacing in the kitchen, hand in your hair, on your hip, anxious. He knows you. Knows you better than he knows himself, anyone. Soap, even. He knows, the reason why you’re saying sorry over and over, isn’t because you’re apologizing for getting pregnant, the two of you did that together. Or rather, he did it.

It’s because of what’s coming next.

“I do know that I… I want this baby, Simon. I know you… you don’t want this. That you’ve never wanted it, and that’s okay. I can do this, alone. We’ll still get divor-“

“Stop.” He doesn’t enjoy cutting you off, but he needs to put an end to this talk, this idea that still seems to have a hold on you. “Look, I’ll… I’ll come home. We can talk and, figure out what we’re going to do, okay? You’re not alone sweet girl. I’ll be there.” You’re silent for a moment, a moment that feels too long.

“Okay. You promise?”

I promise to love and cherish you.

Till death does us part.

Till death.

“I promise.”

#peaches writes #black sun #simon riley #simon riley x reader #🥞 anon #🌵 anon #tw forced pregnancy #tw dark and twisty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #tw forced breeding #cod x reader #cod mw2 #female reader #simon riley x female reader #Black Sun by Death Cab

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lovifie · 1 month

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Hi, this a post about callsigns characters could have because I love "cool" sounding nicknames with the most stupid backstory:

Rat: Because when you first entered the team you were so shy that when you weren't on a mission they could only see you scurrying out of a room whenever they entered like a little mouse. Plus, Gaz keeps saying you look like the rat from the Wallace and Gromit movie when eating breakfast.

Knockout/Knock: Because Soap and you were playing around, he was following you and you were running so fast you didn't notice the door was locked and you ran into it so hard you knocked yourself out.

Icarus: You made fun of Ghost for being British and about how they always burn when they tan only for you to go and get such an aggressive sunburn you were required to take medical leave for two weeks.

Pudding: After a mission you were craving it so bad that you didn't care that the only one left was way past its recommended date for eating. And after reassuring them that you would be fine you ended up throwing up so hard late at night that you woke up everybody.

Mole: Because when you are not wearing your glasses you are so blind they wonder how did you even made it into the military. Many people think you are just a spy that the task force kept as a pet.

Pierrot: Which is a sad clown, often pining for the love of Columbine, who usually breaks his heart and leaves him for Harlequin. And since that's basically a compilation of your love life that became your name, a sad clown but in Italian.

Anakin: You tried to download one of the Star Wars movies from a not-so-trustworthy website, you ended up downloading such a massive amount of viruses that you were almost the reason for the downfall of the whole military because of how aggressive the hack attack was. You now have parental control on everything that has internet access.

Navi: As in the fairy that travels with Link on the Legend of Zelda. Because every time that you would try to de-escalate an argument you would start like: "Hey, listen, we are all tired." "Hey, listen, let's all take a breath." "Hey, listen, we are all adults."

Gecko: Because while sleeping on deployment a gecko fell on your face from the ceiling, and you became so terrified of them that you barely slept for months after that.

Baby: Do you know when you accidentally call your teacher "mom"? Well, it happened to you, but you called Price "dad" and he didn't skip a beat before answering "Yes, babygirl?"

I could go on and on with these, I hope you find it at least half as funny as I do. Feel free to use them however you want and to add to the list as well, please I'll love to read them. 🩷🩷

Also, I would definitely be Mole, my blind ass would shoot and wish for the best. Which one would you guys be?? Also, Knockout and Icarus are my favourite ones and the reason I made the post hehe

Also, the rat I mentioned:

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halcyon-writings · 2 months

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nav.

— “You didn’t deserve that.”

Mark looks up from his phone, surprise on his features. A bandaid on his temple, where a larger bandage once was. The fortune of healing faster than the average joe it seemed.

“What?”

“You didn’t deserve that.” You repeat, letting your phone fall to your lap as you tilt your head up at him, a hand moving in a ‘duh’ gesture. Mark’s expression changes to quiet understanding.

You had only known him for a short while, having some classes in together thanks to similar major programs and what not. And now here you were, on a Monday morning, no classes, simply hanging out at his dorm to waste time rather than get any work done.

You spied him once. As his hero persona. As Invincible. And despite his sputtering, all you do is raise your arm, replaced by a decently priced prosthetic, no charge to your family, or what remained of it, as a mysterious sponsor had taken care of all of the costs. He was silenced then too. Guilt in his eyes.

You waved him off of course, citing you could get better parking thanks to him. Although the wounded look made you backtrack.

“It’s been a while,” He tries to say, “I’m over it.”

You give him a raised eyebrow unconvinced.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

You liked hanging out with Mark. Even if there were times like this that got weirdly introspective. Because how else were you supposed to be when he finally told you, tears in his eyes after one too many shitty drinks that you got for cheap, being college students and all, what happened. How his own father turned against his home, his family. And all for some space empire that made you think this was some shitty Star Wars parody.

When you made it to your weekly hang out, he was shocked. Shocked that you still wanted to associate with him. After what had happened to you, to your arm and your family.

“You tried fighting him didn’t you?” And his silent not makes you shrug, taking a swig from your water bottle, “Then you’re okay.”

You’re okay.

For Mark, those words meant more than their weight in gold.

So when you had said now, that despite what had happened. How much that this wasn’t his fault. And that he didn’t deserve it. (What, he wondered, exactly it was. Fighting his dad? Having it be broadcast that he could do nothing to stop a literal murderer? He doesn’t know.)

“Let’s get lunch, I’m hungry.” He’s agreeable to that at least. Grabbing his keys and taking your bag over his shoulder in spite of your protests. You were missing an arm, not your ability to carry a book bag.

To which of course he snorts before lightly scolding, “It’s not funny.”

“You laughed.”

Dining hall food never tasted better.

#invincible x reader #invincible fic #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson & reader #is it an x reader if there’s no relationship implied #this was almost in context to what [redacted] did but I didn’t want to make this to angsty.#but i decided against it #mine

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echo-lover · 2 months

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Why are you watching this, it's for kids. Focus on life, find yourself a partner, have your own family. You are an adult. Grow up.

You don't understand it. This is not just a series...

This series gives me a chance to feel like a kid again. I find comfort, safety and care in the arms of characters who mean the world to me. I experience each of their moments of sadness, each of their smallest joys, as if they were my own. This is my home, my safe space. I love them with all my heart. Thank you Star-Wars for my beautiful family.

I love Wrecker because he always managed to put a smile back on my face, even when I was having the worst day ever. His cheerful personality makes it impossible not to like him. Sometimes he is just a child, trapped in a large man's body. Behind all this muscles and enormous strength that can easily hurt you, there is a soft heart made of gold. He can be gentle, soft, even quiet if he has to. He would do absolutely everything for his family. He is also way more intelligent than he might think. The way he takes care of Omega melts my heart every time. Kids love him and he loves kids.

I love Tech because he can quickly adapt to situations. His voice is so special... I could listen to him for hours and never get tired of his facts about everything he saw and heard on his missions. He showed me that being smart is not something I should be ashamed of. His voice is calming, gives me comfort... I love his little jokes and moments where he was just a little savage in conversations. Even though he processes moments and thoughts differently, he is still able to share his own feelings with Omega. She helped him open up and show the part of himself that he kept closed from the world, even from himself. He loved his family so much that he sacrificed himself for their safety, paying the biggest price. He is worth every tear I shed for him (and there were so many).

I love Echo because I see a part of myself in him. He has been with me from the very beginning of my journey with Clones, and is one of the most important characters for me. I relate to him for many personal reasons. Even though he has experienced so much evil in his life, he is still able to be gentle, caring and show love to those who were closest to him. I especially love his bond with Omega, they both understand each other through their traumas, and way more. Omega quickly became the most important to Echo, but he couldn't give up on fighting, even for her. He felt that he has to somehow compensate for all the lost years when he was a prisoner on SkakoMinor. His honor, loyalty and courage inspire me every day. And his tenderness and softness touch my soul deeply. I could talk about him for hours and never get bored. I wish I'd be able to give him the biggest and warmest hug, and tell him how important he is to me.

I love Crosshair because he's the type of character I could easily hate, but I don't. In fact Cross is very close to my heart, I feel sorry for him and I want to help him get back to his old self. He is so much more than what the Empire has done to him. This sniper who never misses, who doesn't have to use his muscles to hurt - words are enough for him - silent, yet sharp. Precise, accurate, always on point. Confident, knowing his skills. Painfully honest, but needing to prove his worth to others at the same time. I know there is this soft side of him, hidden, but it is there for sure. The side that loves his brothers and little sister more than his own life. He need some time to understand that he is worth all the love in the Galaxy and I hope that Omega will help him to realize, that his brothers never really left him. They would take him back, if he just wanted...

I love Hunter because he makes me feel safe. I can't put it into words, but he's a character that reminds me of home... a loved one that I lost some time ago. He is so much like my dad at some point and his bond with Omega is so special for me. I know he's not perfect, he makes mistakes just like everyone else, but he always wants to do the right thing. He is a leader, not the one that only gives orders, but he is more like the head of the family who protect them - a father. He always puts his family first and is willing to do anything for them. For any of them, including Crosshair. He often doesn't give direct orders, just suggestions. His squad is not just soldiers, but they are his brothers, his closest family. His priorities changed when Omega appeared in his life - a child in need of a family, who trusted him and gave him love that he had never received before. From a soldier, he became a father, who would give everything for his daughter's safety and joy. His relationship with Omega is the most important to me. I loved him from the first moment and I could talk about him for hours, just like about Echo. I will always defend him. No matter what.

I love Omega because she took the best parts of each of her brothers. She is fearless, brave, strong and ready to defend her family until the very end. She's just a sweet little girl who can't have a normal childhood. She's different, just like her brothers, and she's so proud of it. She is not afraid to show her individuality. But even though she is strong and brave, she is still just a child. She needs love, protection... family... and Bad Batch gave it to her... a home, a safe place, loving brothers... Words cannot describe how important she is to me. Now she has changed so much, she is no longer this little Omega from first season... I think she becomes so much like Hunter.

#the bad batch #star wars #clone wars #clones #never stop loving clones #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb #personal thoughts #i love bad batch

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askew-d · 4 months

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YIZHAN FIC REC LIST

— if you just got into the fandom, you might know switched, yizhan or yizhan through the years, so let’s go through other stuff! we’re gonna take another ride. also, if you care about this, green will be for bjyx dynamic, red will be for zsww and blue will be for lsfy. from my point of view, ofc. orange will be for the not specified, couldn’t grasp. let’s go.

• where else but home, by purplemoster — fluff story where wang yibo accidentally returns home to xiao zhan every time. super sweet read!

• ⭐️ cool boy gets a life, by saezutte — xiao zhan’s a writer and his character, cool buy wang yibo, gains life. it’s wonderful, i want a cool boy for myself. who wrote this did an awesome job.

• ⭐️ i’m not as good as you think (or as bad as they say), by ilyria — aaahh, what a gorgeous story! basically, xiao zhan becomes yibo manager and the idol, well, falls in love. there’s a sequel!

• follow shot, by cataclysms — cameraman wang yibo freaks out about idol xiao zhan. because, come on, it’s xiao zhan! we get you, boy. beautiful.

• xiao zhan’s graphic design playbook, by augmenti — this one’s absolutely gold! fantastic. xiao zhan as graphic designer and yibo as someone who thinks his prices are too small. sexual tension ensues.

• caffeine addictions and brain malfunctions, by little_passions — if you want a coffeeshop yizhan au, here’s your to-go! cute!

• query: cardiac, by iluvnaruto1412 — our radiographer technician wang yibo discovers that doctor xiao’s a hottie. there’s a whole series that’s outstanding, don’t mind the mcd in the last part, you’ll understand as you read.

• an ode to love, by spoonful_of_sugar — sappy reminiscent of their story. truly so fluffy i had toothaches the entire read.

• ⭐️ one feline war for love, by ilyria —a fierce cat becomes a human after xiao zhan saves him, and this human wants xiao zhan all for himself. so very good, i died and resuscitated. worth it.

• chef’s kiss, by jalpari — chef xiao zhan in day day for an episode and becomes enemies with wang yibo. but for a short time. love this development for them!! so well done.

• ⭐️ this is what they say, by xiaoyibao (a_storm_of_frustrations) — yibo thinks xiao zhan’s breaking up when the man’s actually trying to get married to him. comic, lovely, poetic!

• set me into motion, by deinde — backup dancers wang yibo and xiao zhan being whipped towards one another. an angel wrote this.

• ⭐️ finding yibo, by vesna (mrsronweasley) — kidfic where yibo transforms into a young version of himself and xiao zhan takes care of him. i’m losing my head. it’s great!

• ⭐️🎖️never close our eyes, series by thirtysixsavefiles — catboy wang yibo and kinda batman xiao zhan. perfect through every part. i’m flabbergasted.

• 119 my cat is struck, by serendiiii — fireman yibo, cat owner xiao zhan, you can have my heart! adorable!

• a spot of light, by akatsukishin — this is for everyone who loves a drama! delivery boy xiao zhan and successful ceo wang yibo.

• a story of others to tell, by deinde — this author has some seriously good plots. in this one, yibo pines enough to end up in cql world. extra nice!

• cut to the feeling, by vesna (mrsronweasley) — drama pa and the huge star xiao zhan. is there anything better?

• love thy neighbour, by jalpari — single dad xiao zhan and neighbour who becomes babysitter wang yibo. marvellous!

• ‘cos you make me feel electric, by chajatta — fansite xiao zhan loves his inspiration, wang-laoshi from uniq. i love this for them, genuinely.

• ⭐️🎖️ world of cultivation, by eggo — yibo and xiao zhan meet each other through a game; well, not only. hilarious! chaotic! romantic! perfect!

• gravitating towards you, by bittersweetirony — high school au with student council president xiao zhan and sports freak wang yibo, we all know we needed it.

• 181.3 cm high, by eleven14 — wang yibo wakes up high in anaesthesia. you might imagine what comes after. excellent!

• ⭐️ we are made to love, by jalpari — xiao zhan writes columns receives one letter questioning on love. aah, so poetic! definitely worth every second.

• no path better than our own, by athousandfaces — harry potter au! we’re lucky to have this gorgeous story. i had a lot of fun reading it.

• my future in your laugh, by timelykey — doctor xiao zhan falling in love with overworked wang yibo. wow, what a journey, you’re losing it if you haven’t read it yet.

• love in the time of coding, by thevoiryflute — a hacker au for yibo fits him so much, i don’t know why. just know that this perfectly-written story caused butterflies in my stomach.

• summer surf shop, by anonymous — yibo goes to a variety show and gets much more than he imagined. absolutely gold.

• pick me, pick me up, by domeneec — wrong number au for yizhan, we need it. and it’s so well-written too.

• escape velocity, redefined, by thirtysixsavefiles — i have to admit that this au of pirating away together with royalty made me suspicious at first. but after i read it, it’s so goddamn brilliant.

• 缘分 | (yuánfèn), by fyredancer — royalty au, give me more yizhan royalty. good writing, good development, good plot, had a good time reading it.

• signal fire, series by fireflavoredwhiskey — spiderman yibo! spiderman yibo! spiderman yibo! spiderman yibo! if he knew about that, he’d be happy to know that in an universe he gets to be his favorite superhero.

• ⭐️ the magic position, by sophiahelix — just a sweet, short story with yizhan being cute together and it melts my heart away every time.

• ⭐️🎖️ with joy and purpose, by feenwitch — android wang yibo living alone in a planet until xiao zhan crashes his plane there. it’s just perfect. and the writing’s wonderful.

• perfect match, by sandorara — personal ai for xiao zhan turns out to be more than he expected. gorgeous wang yibo affecting xiao-laoshi and changing his course of life. incredible!

• 🎖️ their kindred encounters, by fireflavoredwhiskey — can i have this printed, please? actually, i think there might have. it’s a the age of adeline au, xiao zhan doesn’t get old. melancholic in the ideal dosage. angst. comfort. everything.

• the ruby ox and the golden boy, series by aces_low — a mafia au that attracted me. i’m usually not into these kind of aus but aah this one… it’s unique.

• ⭐️ half is loss, half is gain, by yin_chi — celebrity xiao zhan needs a bodyguard and guess who it is? well, yeah, this story’s a blessing upon us here. i couldn’t stop reading once i began, just warning y’all. addictive, i want more.

• ⭐️🎖️ between holocenes, by fireflavoredwhiskey — this author broke the heart of so many people by just vanishing from the fandom, but ah how greatly they write and how extraordinary their works are. this is a the time traveler’s wife au and it rocks.

• fixtures and fittings, by ella_minnow — interior designer xiao zhan and motorcyclist wang yibo! believe me when i said i screamed during the development of their relationship.

• ⭐️ 为战而爱, series by anonymous — bits of sdc moments with established relationship yizhan, the works are seriously stunning.

• what i could do (if i didn’t love you), by trestle — one-night stand au with architect xiao zhan. seriously really good through and through.

• ⭐️ hand in glove, by pessoa — brat yibo; you have my heart. the development in this work’s crazy, it’s a whole rollercoaster of feelings. neighbours au!

• say you love me (again and again), by lanwuxiann — sweet story of yizhan growing up together and loving each other through every step of the way. hella soft!

• ⭐️ four of hearts (l-o-v-e me zhan-ge), by eleven14 — yibo being silly to win over xiao zhan’s heart, and of course, it works. short, but very funny and lovely.

• a head’s up, by madfilaments — xiao zhan arrives at sdc without giving a head’s up and yibo’s frustrated. a pretty satisfying thing to read. awesome.!

• 7 reasons to support your local cat café, by buttstrife — host wang yibo, cat café owner xiao zhan, a romance for the history books. they’re so very lovable.

• ⭐️ the bravest man i ever knew, by biscuitpoo — another hogwarts au! this time, xiao zhan’s a bit more slytherin-like, and it’s a whole show.

• ⭐️🎖️ so happy you could come; so happy to be here, by alex_mtg — a masterpiece! betrothed yizhan with royalty and the uniq boys and this sweet development of their relationship. just amazing! :)

• ⭐️ threads, by planet_b612 — a sherlock and watson au! it’s phenomenal! in fact, this author has only good works, so it’s definitely worthy to check out.

since i’m doing this already, might as well recommend some of my own stories, so i’ll be adding the ones i favour (sssh):

• half a bottle is enough — yizhan fight and xiao zhan gets home carrying a cardboard wang yibo. just some silly boyfriendos!

• falling; never broken — yibo has bulimia (please, be aware of the trigger warnings) and xiao zhan’s a doctor who helps him.

• a best friend and a lover — xiao zhan goes on different dates with different versions of wang yibo to look for a ‘type’. they’re both stupidly in love, your honour.

• darling you, play it cool — yizhan bodyswap au where only wang yibo’s famous though. i wrote this in 2023 and i’m the most proud of it.

• sleep tight until the moonlight — yizhan enemies to lovers where both of them spend their time being radio hosts in university :)

• whispering through dusty aisles — my au where xiao zhan’s a literary deity and yibo’s still famous, they meet occasionally and sparks fly. it’s my most poetic creation.

everyone, please remember this is my opinion! of course, there a lot of other works — famous or not — who aren’t in here. if you want to check out more recs of mine, see my bookmarks! thank you :)

#yizhan fic #yizhan #bjyx #bjyxszd #bjyx fanfic #yizhan fanfic #yizhan fic rec #the untamed #cql #wang yibo #xiao zhan #zsww #lsfy #bjyx fic rec

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tac-the-unseen · 2 days

Text

COD museum date night

Fluff

Ghost:

•doesn't really care for museums but he'll go if you go

•He makes sure to hold your hand the whole time.

•makes God awful jokes about the paintings and statues

•laughs at the fat catholic baby paintings

•ends up having more fun then he would ever admit.

•hints at going back for future dates.

Soap:

•He's the one that came up with the idea.

•he images it as super romantic like the movies

•ends up bored out of his mind

•he'll tug on your sleeve and ask to leave like a 5 year old

•can't help but laugh at the nude statuses

•"I would not be posing like that if my willy was that small."

Price:

•He's quite and respectful of the artwork

•he walks slowly and throughly looks over every piece he comes across.

•Dad stance

•hands behind his back, legs spread, chest puffed out, his head nodding slowly as he looks over the art

•if you have a favorite piece, he wants to know everything about it.

•takes you to all kinds of museums if he knows you like them

Alejandro:

•secretly looks up facts about the paintings to impress you

•gets embarrassed when you point out his phone still open on the Google page he used.

•also laughs at the nude statues

•you had to awkwardly shuffle past the glaring art critics and students while Alejandro his bright red and sweating from holding back laughter.

•it becomes an inside joke between you two

•has a great time and wants to go back

Roach:

•at frist he's bored, but as soon as he get to the war section he's pressing his full body on the glass case

•like his eyes have stars in them and everything

•signs fun (and not so fun) facts about the artifacts

•it's the one section he REALLY took his time to look at.

•you bet your ass he's rummaging in the giftshop until he finds something he actually wants.

•you come home with bags of stuff because he couldn't decide

Gaz:

•He too, is respectful and takes his time walking around

•he looks like he's studying all the art

•in reality he's making up scenarios in his head

•he has one earbud in imaging himself saving everybody in the museum from bombers

•he has tuned to world out and is only brought back when you talk about what to get for lunch

König:

•Really like museums!

•he silent while you guys make your way through the galleries

•holding your hand the entire time

•loves the dinosaur section and loves to learn about them

•gets a little upset when he's reminded he's and adult and can't play with childerns interactive games

•he really wanted to play with the magnetic sand :(

•you end up buy him a small tin of magnetic sand in the gift shop :)

Rudy:

•is pretty normal about the date

•drinks a coffee while wondering around with you

•constantly talks about how you guys show start being more artistic together

•you shoot down the having sex with paint idea real quick

•that's a whole lot of mess neither of you want to clean up

•pouts the rest of the date

•gets over it when you take him to the gift shop

Mace:

•he has a deep appreciation for art

•He's fascinated by old tribal artifacts and wants to know how they evolved or translated into today

•is well versed in African culture and folklore

•when you get to the African section you get some frist hand facts!

•tells you stories and tales about certain art pieces and relics

•He finds a south African restaurant 20 minutes away and takes you there to end the night.

•100% bought a glitter pen from the gift store

Thanks for reading <3

#mw2 #cod mw2 #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #alejandro vargas #könig #rudy parra #mace cod #könig x reader #ghost x reader #reader #x reader

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aimportantdragoncollector · 5 months

Note

I post comments on a lot of your fics and was typing up one about what if AFO watched Scarface instead of Captain Hero. Then the new leaks dropped.

I can't believe this could have been canon. It's a legit AU and not even a crack idea.

We could have a world where AFO took Kotaro from foster care and turned him into a druglord. By the way, he's not AFO. He's All For Drugs. AFD.

The kid eats expensive food every day, has a golden toilet, and there's drugs and money everywhere. There's a constant party lifestyle in AFD's mansion.

Kotaro looks around at this life, swallows a bite of Japanese A5 wagyu steak, and then redirects his anger.

A grown up, blinged out Kotaro is standing at the head of a massive gang of his enforcers. He's got a cane made of platinum in his hands and a grill in his mouth that spells out his name.

He's ranting at All Might about what a fool Nana and his dad were, because they wouldn't be bribed.

"You'll never understand what getting this money is like, All Might! You can't eliminate vice as long as humans live. You can't get rid of crime! But you can control it."

Kotaro asks him to name his price. All Might explains that he's impossible to buy.

All Might says he wants Nana back, and the other OFA holders too. He also wants all the people All For Drugs killed to be alive again. All Might asks if money can buy that.

He tells Kotaro that when you truly believe in something, you're willing to die for your beliefs. Your ideals are more important than you are. It doesn't make sense to Kotaro because he's selfish and has no higher values.

Kotaro calls him and fool and says that money are his morals. He asks what Nana, or the other OFA holders really got for all their defiance. They died like dogs and had nothing, and left behind people who cared about them. All they had to do was take bribes and they'd have been fine.

And so they're forced to fight.

AFD doesn't even care about OFA in this universe. What he wants is money, control, and power. He gave his brother a power so he'd understand what it's like when you can do whatever you want.

The guy didn't want to sell drugs. He ran off to join a vigilante organization. Yoichi got all his morals from Miami Vice in this universe. He, Second, and Third wear suits, drive fast sports cars and use guns.

AFD's calling people cockroaches and threatening to bury them. His last name isn't Shigaraki, it's Montana. He calls himself Tony.

Even after Kotaro's last stand, his kids are now part of AFD's empire.

This news that all of the boys morals came from fictional media can birth hundreds of AUs.

Especially ones based around divine intervention. Their story is like something out of roman myth.

I've never seen Scarface but that is a fun AU! It's interesting to imagine what could have happened if AFO had read different pieces of media instead of Captain Hero and based his life around them. I think it would have been funny if AFO and Yoichi had read a shoujo manga. Yoichi modeled himself after the male lead and became an arrogant ore-sama type, while AFO turned out normal because he empathized more with the second male lead. Or if they'd read an idol manga and AFO, who modeled himself off the villain, became a famous actor who liked to bully rookies. AFO read Star Wars and wanted to become Darth Vader but first he had to get into space, so he devoted his life to building spaceships. AFO read Charles Dickens and became a miserly businessman. Less harmlessly, AFO could have read a mythology book and started a cult. The possibilities are endless.

#bnha #All for One #Yoichi Shigaraki #bnha spoilers

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localcrustrat · 8 months

Text

The Stars Lead Me to You

Captain Soap laid on the table bleeding out as Price stood above him.

"SOAP, SOAP NO," slowly his eyes glazed over and the man who expected to see his own life flash before his eyes, saw another; someone that looked like him but… Happier, younger. The world slowed and the man watched.

Soap walked over to… Ghost? But his mask also looked different, Capt Soap wandered over to the other men.

"Let's go get us a win yeah LT?" Ah Ghost was a Lieutenant. The world darkened again and John saw Soap and Ghost looking at a missile.

"I repeat Hassan has American missiles," next he saw the boys growing closer together he saw Soap making his way through Mexico. If John was alive his heart would be racing seeing the other him almost lose consciousness multiple times.

"Johnny," Johnny? "gimme a sitrep"

"Jumped down from the caged dog, in a gated alleyway," Soap checked the alley picking up some things before limping up a staircase and laying down to watch a couple shadows. John followed watching over Soap, the man laughed hearing the mercs talk, their fear of this Ghost reminded him of the rumors and fear that followed his Ghost. John watched Soap sneak around collecting chemicals, bottles, tape and rope, mouse traps, and broken fan blades. He saw Soap stumble upon a Shadow with a knife in his neck.

"Ghost you missin' a knife?" Soap pulled the knife out and inspected it.

"Several," came a slow reply.

"I think I found one."

"One of the dead shadows of my handy work," Soap looked surprised and slightly put out.

"You came through 'ere?"

"On my way to the church," John smiled, hearing Ghost speak. The Ghost he knew didn't speak much. John could see the connection between these two. He continued following Soap half listening to the two flirt and smiling at Ghost's dry humor and dad jokes. Time flew forward to the two rescuing another man Alejandro from a prison and escaping with Price's help.

"It's good to see Price again. Even if it's not my Price," John lamented sadly. John saw snippets of Ghost and Soap sharing small looks and hushed conversations, both too afraid to admit anything in the middle of a high stakes mission. But he saw things the two didn't. Like how they gravitate towards each other when they were in the same room, how Ghost would always keep an eye on their surroundings keeping Soap safe. What John didn't notice was the shadow following Ghost like he was following Soap. John followed Soap through the mission getting Alejandro and his men's base back and cheered the man on as he fought a tank and won. Then he saw Soap running for his life again in a building trying to stop a missile from hitting the pentagon. And finally the last moments where all if this was leading with Hassan Picking Soap up and slowly bringing him closer to the open window ready to throw him out until Ghost saved him with a bullet through Hassans head.

"Good shot L.T."

"You called it Sargent." John smiled and turned, seeing a flash of light to his right.

"Captain?" John knew that voice, it struck a cord through his heart.

"Ghost?" his eyes met the other man's and only realized after a minute that his face was uncovered.

"Just Simon now, no use for codenames when you're dead."

"Then call me John, Simon. No use for ranks either."

Simin looked over at the building Ghost was on then down at Soap.

"I'm glad we found each other in different lives, they deserve it," John nodded agreeing.

"You deserve to be happy too Simon," the man shrugged.

"You made me happy Captain, John. I was happy to serve with you," John walked over to the other man and slowly grabbed his hand.

"The stars lead me to you in one life, maybe they'll lead me to you in another hopefully without the interference of a war and a terrorist."

"But where's the fun in that, Sir? We'll need a little excitement in our lives." John smiled.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to truly know you," Simin shook his head.

"Like you said, we fell in love in one lifetime. Why not another?" He turned to the light.

"Lead me on one last mission Captain?" John nodded and gripped the man's hand.

"Always Simon, I'll find you again and when I do I won't let you go."

"I can't wait, Johnny."

John looked back one more time seeing a small wedding between other other Ghost and Soap before looking forward again and leading the other man to an unknown world where they would once again fall in love.

(Cross posted on AO3)

#call of duty #ghostsoap #ao3 #angst #Cw main character death #Og soap sees new soap

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tranakin-skywalker · 2 months

Note

if you’re looking for fic recs, you may enjoy “the price of forgetting” by lautdalam. It’s part of the series “bang the war-drums” and it involves an earlier attempted Darth Vader redemption (I say attempted because Vader tries! He’s just. Continuously being handed L’s by the universe at large). I may know some clone wars fics if that’s what you prefer too :)

Band the War-Drums is actually an old favorite of mine. This ask actually prompted me to go back and start rereading it lol. So thanks.

I do love a story where Vader's obsessive dad instincts zero in on Leia instead of Luke. There's just something so fun about it, I think partially because their familiar connection in the OT is treated like an after thought (because it kind of was *cough* Nellith *cough*) so having it be the focal point of a story instead is something I really really enjoy.

And yeah, throw those recs my way, I'm always looking for more. There's a fair chance I might have already read those too tho lol. I just checked my ao3 history and I've read/checked out just under 1,500 Star Wars fics since I got back into the fandom two years ago. And that's not even counting the ones I've dug up on ff.net and theforce.net lmao

#74 pages of my ao3 history is nothing but star wars fic and there's 20 fics per page

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starwarsgirlie · 7 months

Text

We Belong To Death

Hi friends! Here's the first chapter of my Viktor X Reader fic!

Chapter 2 Here ----->

The reader has female anatomy and goes by she/her pronouns. Further chapters will contain NSFW content!

PLEASE comment what you think or what you'd like to see! I love collaborating!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters besides Persephone. I used the League of Legends lore for a large portion of this chapter's plot!

Trigger Warnings: death, war, violence, sexual themes, murder.

Chapter 1 - The Underworld

The years of the Rune War were filled with blood, loss, and pain. Runterra was where one would find blood more often than water and magic more often than blood. The arcane has always been a force that still needed to be understood. Beauty and destruction impossible to contain. A beautiful hell.

In this world of blood and magic, our story begins with a husband and wife, Mihira and Kilam. Fleeing their war-torn home, they came to a mountain known to grant those in need magical gifts at a price. Desperate in Runterra hell, Kilam helped his pregnant wife up the hill. Upon reaching the stars, everything became silent. Mihira and Kilam hung to each other in confusion. "My love, what are we to do to ask for this gift?" Mihira whispered. Looking down at his wife, Kilam shook his head in confusion before seeing her usual green eyes change to the iciest glowing blue. Kilam was thrown back with force while Mihira was lifted into the air, engulfed in the arcane. As soon as she rose she was laid down again by the power, unconscious.

Soon after this event, the two fled to Demacia, still not knowing the gift they received. Demacia, at the time, was a haven from the magical war around them. It was here where Mihira gave birth to twin girls, Kayle and Morgana. Upon giving birth, Mihira immediately felt a calling to fight in the battle and refused ever to touch her girls again. It was clear to Kilam that this was the price paid for their gift from the arcane, which was still unknown to both.

Kilam continued to try to help Mihira return to who she was. After falling pregnant with their third child, Kilam thought this would bring her back, but he was wrong. She continued to fight, and for fear of his children's safety, he fled the moment y/n was born.

Keeping his three girls safe for the next ten years, he saw them grow. Kayle became greatly intrigued by justice and law, while Morgana became more interested in people's ability to lie and manipulate others. And then there was his youngest, y/n, or as he called you, Persephone. Your mother gave you the nickname as she laughed over how many she had killed while pregnant. You were her child of death. Despite the darkness of the name, your father always told you that just as there is beauty in life, there is beauty in death. A living thing is not living unless it experiences death. Death gives our life meaning.

For years, they lived in peace. Mihira had not found them, and Kilam began to enjoy the life he was living until Kayle and Morgana's tenth Birthday. On that day, he got each of his girls a necklace. Kayle's was a golden sun, and Morgana's was a silver moon. Upon opening their gifts, Kayle poked at Morgana like she always did, "He got you the moon because you're dependent on me to shine." This affected Morgana greatly, making her angry and begin to scream at Kayle, "I HATE YOU! YOURE HATEFUL! BEING SISTERS WITH YOU IS A WORSE HELL THAN WITH MOTHER!" As she continued sobbing and screaming, purple smoke-like energy rose from her body and reached for Kayle. In defense, Kayle exuded the same smoke, but it was white, and so a struggle between the smoke began. Being only eight years old and unable to handle this traumatic event, you began sobbing while your dad screamed for his daughters to stop. It all became too much, and all you could do was scream. As you screamed, a wave of red smoke washed out from you, pushing Kayle and Morgana to the floor. In the stillness of the next moment, you looked around you and noticed all the plants and flowers were dead. Your father stood silently, gathering you together and putting you to bed, knowing he didn't know what to do. It was then that he realized the gift that was given to him and Mihira on that mountain.

A few weeks after the incident and after the war ended, it became clear that his children possessed the power of the arcane. In a world where magic is hated, feared, and forbidden, he knew the only thing he could do was teach you to keep it hidden. He read and searched for someone to help him until he found a Yordle named Heimerdinger. The wise Yordle understood the magic the three girls possessed but also encouraged the girls to hide it. Heimerdinger concluded that each sister drew her power from a source. Kayles was the arrogance and righteousness of those around her, and Morganas was the pain and suffering. Heimerdinger rarely got frightened of something he was researching, but that changed with you. The stealing of a living being's life force enhanced your magic. This explained the death of the flowers in the house when you were upset—despite this fear, months passed relatively peacefully... until the arrival of Mihira.

With the distraction of the war being over, she was now possessed by the will to train her daughters and raise them as soldiers of wrath and fury as she had. After all, her becoming the bloodthirsty soldier was the price she paid for the magic you and your sisters got to have. She burned down the city, looking for you and your sisters, killing anyone in her path. Only with the help of a mysterious mage was she captured and taken to the depths of Stilwater Prison. However, everyone now knew who you three were and your powers. "We live in a time where your gifts are feared; you cannot stay here any longer," your father said through tears. And before you knew it, you and your sisters were sent to different parts of Runterra and told never to speak of your past. Heimerdinger was the one to take you to Piltover. It was there where he gave you to the older woman, Granny Ray. "My girl, you are of a small age, but you must be brave; this woman here will love and look after you, so fear not. I, unfortunately, cannot stay as I would draw too much attention, so for the next ten years of your life, you are to live with Granny Ray in Zaun." "My girl, I will come get you on your 18th Birthday and take you to Piltover, where you can study whatever you want to make a life for yourself." "When can I see my father again?" you sobbed. "My sweetest child, it is best not to think of that at this time; he has much work he needs to do and told me to tell you how much you are loved." "One final thing, my sweet girl, you must change y/n. It is too well known, so what would you like to be called from now on?" "M-my dad called me Persephone." "AH! The story of the girl in the underworld, how fitting; from now on, Granny Ray and I will refer to you as Persephone, ah, or even Percy for short!"

#arcane x reader #arcane #viktor x reader #legue of legends #viktor arcane #smut #jayce talis #caitlyn kiramman #heimerdinger #requests open #request #arcane headcanon #hextech #magic

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