#not Soap marked by violence and Ghost marked by grief...

[rascal-xo]

Hiiii!! I was hoping for a ghost x fem!reader where the reader is dead and ghost can't accept it and the others are worried about him. And one night he sees the reader beside him and hugs her in tears and wonders if she really here but his just hallucinating. I hope I didn't do the whole story for you.

The Call of The Void | Simon Riley x Female Reader |

Chapter summary: It’s been months since your untimely death, and Simon struggles to live in a world where you’re not there.

Warnings: DEATH, violence, angst, hallucinations hostile behavior, grief, alcohol use

Word count: 1.6K

taglist: @glitteryeggalmondherring @fiveshelmet @madamemelancholysstuff @myguiltypleasures21 @pukbadger

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get back to you, I hope I was able to capture your request like you had imagined :))

The atmosphere on small hill was quiet, except for the soft rustle of the grass and the distant chirping of birds. Simon felt overwhelmed with the emptiness that seemed to echo through peaceful surroundings as he found himself in front of a marked cement gravestone.

Your gravestone.

His face was bare under the early hours of morning, a glow casting over him from the rising sun. Simon kneeled in the grass. He brushed his hand over the top of the gravestone, tracing the letters of your name with his fingertips. He could feel the rough texture of the cement beneath his skin, a tangible reminder that you were truly gone.

Simon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to center himself. He could feel his chest tightening, the pain of his loss threatening to overwhelm him farther. He had come here every day for the past 4 months to try and say goodbye, but he didn't know if he could do it.

He didn't know if he had the strength to let you go.

Every time he closed his eyes he could see the vivid flashbacks of that dreadful night playing on repeat in his mind, haunting him constantly.

- FLASHBACK - **TW: Descriptions of death and explosions**

Simon secured his headset, checking over the comms. He glanced over at you, watching as you carefully checked and readied your rifle, as always before a mission.

Your signature red bandana was tied on your head, keeping your hair out of your face as you focused on your gear. He smiled himself, shaking his head very slightly, admiring the way you carry yourself.

You looked up and caught his eye, "Nervous, L.T?" you teased, giving him a smile. Simon lips turned up beneath his mask, always warming at the sound of your voice. “Never that, Love.”

The mission that the team was about to embark on was dangerous, but it was necessary. You were tasked with recon of enemy cargo in a heavily guarded multi compound facility. It was a mission that required precision and skill, from both ground teams.

When the men reached the perimeter of the compound, they split up, Bravo Team, Soap and Ghost taking a different vantage point while Alpha Team, Gaz and the Captain went into the old launch facility across the compound.

You were positioned on a nearby rooftop, your rifle trained on the main gates.

“Ready on the cover, Sergeant?” Captain Price said, coming over the comms into your earpiece. You were positioned way out of their line of sight.

“All good up here, Cap.” You answered, confidently.

You quickly aimed and fired, taking out the first two guards. You remained focused and steady, picking off any other guards that tried to intervene, ensuring that your team could move forward smoothly.

“Do you ever miss, Lass?” Johnny teased over the comms.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, MacTavish.” You chuckled, speaking back. It was a dangerous game, but you were confident in your skills and training.

“Compounds been cleared. Moving to Alpha.” Soap suddenly said. You hadn’t received any updated information as of yet and continued to scan the area.

Ghost and Soap were already halfway to Alpha team when you cleared the area and began to follow behind. But as you touched ground below, your eye caught the a blinking red light from the first building indicating a remote system coming online.

“Compounds not clear, scanning for hostiles.” You say, turning around.

“Say again?” Captain Price replied firmly over the comms.

“Demolitions may have just went active. Somethings blinking.” You answer, you knew something was off and couldn't shake off the feeling. “I’m clearing it, i’ll be right behind you.”

“Negative, Move out NOW Sergeant!” He ordered, sternly.

“Fucking hell, Y/N.” Ghost added.

As you entered the control room, you found the source of the blinking light. A remote detonation system had been set up, and it was set to go off in a matter of moments. But nothing you did could’ve stopped what was about to ensue.

The darkness was suddenly pierced by a blinding flash of light, and then suddenly everything went dark. The explosion was massive, unleashing an intense wave of energy that rippled through the air, shattering windows and doors, and rattling the very foundations of the surrounding buildings.

“SERGEANT, HOW COPY?” The team scrambled to get to your location, and to get word from you. But there was radio silence on your end.

The air was filled with the acrid smell of burning debris, fuel, and smoke as Ghost was the first one to get to what was once the standing compound. The hostile had made a self destruct on the building that only you were able to detect, and it had made you its victim.

The explosion had ripped through the building, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. Smoke and dust still hung heavily in the air, casting an eerie haze over the scene. Simon couldn’t wrap his head around where to look for you, if you had even made it out.

He called out your name, hoping against hope that you would respond, but the only answer he received was the crackling of flames and the creaking of twisted metal.

As he got closer to the epicenter of the blast, Simon could see the destruction wrought by the explosion. Walls had been torn apart, and the roof had collapsed in on itself, forming a tangled mess of concrete and steel.

When he finally managed to find a red cloth sticking out from under, his worst fears were confirmed. There, beneath the rubble, laid your lifeless body. Simon's heart shattered into a million pieces at the sight of you.

Your hair was matted with dust and debris, and your clothes were torn and stained with blood. But despite the damage, your features were still recognizable, and your beauty shone through even in death.

Your lips were slightly parted, as if you had been caught mid-breath. “Oh sweet girl.” Simon’s voice broke, taking your body in his arms, lifting you from the broken concrete that fell onto your legs.

As he carried you back to the evac in that same hour, Simon took in every detail of your face, committing it to memory. He could see the faint scar on your forehead, the shape of your nose, the softness of your lips.

~ END FLASHBACK ~

Simon finally made his way back to base as he did every morning after slipping out before the sun had arose. His heart was slow and filled with a heaviness that hasn’t left since that day.

He pulled his mask over his face and walked through the front door. Price and Gaz were sitting at the small table in the kitchen area, and paused their conversation turning to look at him.

This was the first time in days he had shown himself. None of the men were able to get him to come out of his quarters. “Ghost.” Gaz spoke up.

His eyes met with the captains now pitiful ones, and he didn’t respond back knowing if he spoke nothing of good heart would come out.

He was angry at the world for taking you, at Price for recruiting you to the team in the first place. If he hadn’t, Simon wouldn’t have ever met you but at least you’d be alive.

Simon made his way to his room, shutting the door behind him with a quiet thud and throwing his balaclava somewhere on the ground.

He took a deep breath and walked over to the side table, grabbing the bottle of whiskey that he had left there the night before. He twisted off the cap and took a long swig, feeling the liquid burn down his throat.

He sank onto the edge of his bed, his eyes glazed over as he stared blankly at the floor beneath him.

The alcohol had started to take effect, but failing to numbing the pain in his chest ever so slightly. He took another swig, and then another, until the bottle was half-empty.

“Does this bruise look bad to you?” Simons head shot up at the echoing of your soft voice in the room.

You came out of the connected bathroom with a hand holding your shirt up to examine the deep bruise on your ribs. “Sons of bitches got me bad.” You chuckle, “Don’t worry they look worse.”

His head was playing a god awful trick on him, but he never wanted it to end. He watched the way you lit up the room, the way your eyes were familiarly glowing as they once used to. His chest pounded with an ache he couldn’t overcome.

Simon's hands trembled as they reached out to you, finding rest around your waist. He let out a strangled sob, feeling the weight of his grief press down on him once more.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he asked, his voice breaking.

Simon closed his eyes, melting into you. He could feel the warmth of your skin, the softness of your fingers against in his hair. It was as if you were really there with him.

His chest began to heave, his body shaking with quiet sobs. But just as you came into his life, within seconds you were gone with the breeze coming through the windows.

Simon opened his eyes and found himself alone in his room once again. The reality of loss hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt a new wave of despair wash over him.

He felt lost and alone, adrift in a sea of grief and regret. Simon wanted to hate you for leaving him like this, to kill anyone who brought this upon you, but he would never be able to fill the void.

[lysenfeu]

Lysenfeu Fic Masterlist

[Visit my AO3 Profile!]

ALL CONTENT IS RATED MATURE/18+

Explicit Sexual Content is marked with an *

FIC REQUESTS: CLOSED

ANY OTHER ASKS/MSGS: OPEN

Characters

I am currently writing for + taking asks about:

Adrian Chase/Vigilante (DCU)

Logan James Howlett/Wolverine (Comics/X-Men Films)

Victor Creed/Sabretooth (Comics/X-Men Films)

COD - 141 (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley & Captain John Price)

Eddie Brock/Venom (Sonyverse/Comics)

Matthew Murdock/Daredevil (NMCU/Comics)

Frank Castle/The Punisher (NMCU)

Billy Russo/Jigsaw (NMCU)

Mikey Berzatto (The Bear)

-Call of Duty (Gaz, Ghost, Price, Soap)-

• Drabbles/Headcanon •

141 + Sex Toys* (Headcanon)

141 + Kisses (Headcanon)

Oral Fixation (Ghoap Mini Drabble)

Ghost Ruining You* (Drabble)

• Devil in the Details* (Shortform/Drabble Series) •

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Rating: Mature/Explicit Pairing: Eventual John Price x F!Reader Summary: Captain John Price is pushed over the edge after the loss of his team. He makes a desperate deal to rectify his mistakes and alleviate his grief, not understanding the cost he'll have to pay is always more than expected. Content: Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Demon AU, Dark themes, Supernatural events, Grief/death, Corruption

-Frank Castle/The Punisher (NMCU)-

• Rinse & Repeat* (One-Shot) •

[Read on Tumblr] [Read on AO3]

Rating: Explicit 18+ Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader Word Count: 1.8k Summary: Frank comes home bloody and filthy from a rough night out and you can't help but clean him up. Content: Mentions of blood, Domestic fluff, Super soft Frank, Smut (F/M), Shower sex, Bareback (no condom), Creampie

-Eddie Brock/Venom (Sonyverse/Marvel Comics)-

• Cheque Please!* (One-Shot) •

[Read on Tumblr] [Read on AO3]

Rating: Explicit 18+ Pairing: Eddie Brock/Venom x Reader Word Count: 1.5k Summary: Venom gets a little too enthusiastic after you offer him a treat on date night with Eddie. Content: Smut (F/M), Semi-public sex, Alien sex, Tentacles/tendrils, Oral sex (F receiving)

-Adrian Chase/Vigilante (Peacemaker DCU)-

• Headcanons •

Training

First Kill

Vigilantemobile

Organization

SFW Character Alphabet

NSFW Character Alphabet*

• Helluva Drug* (One-Shot) •

[Read on Tumblr] [Read on AO3]

Rating: Explicit 18+ Pairing: Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Civilian!FReader Word Count: 3.7k Summary: A civilian gets caught in the crossfire as Vigilante busts a drug operation outside Evergreen and they both get exposed to a strange new substance. Content: Violence, Kidnapping, Dubcon (sex pollen), Accidental Drugging, Smut (F/M), Sex with strangers, Rough sex, Unprotected Sex (no condom)

• It's His Birthday* (One-Shot) •

[Read on Tumblr] [Read on AO3]

Rating: Explicit 18+ Word Count: 5.7k Pairing: Adrian Chase x F!Reader Summary: The 11th street kids take Adrian out to a bar for his birthday and try to set him up with the cute bartender. Content: Alcohol Use, Flirting, Fluff, Smut (F/M)

• Pair of Aces* (Series - Ongoing/HIATUS) •

Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ Pairing: Vigilante x F!Reader

Summary: After Peacemaker nearly blows the mission at the Goff mansion, Waller sends in a new team member to pick up slack and assist Task Force X with Project Butterfly.Series Content: Mature themes, Graphic Violence, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Smut (F/M)

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6*]

[Read on AO3]

[koeii]

He is sixteen when blood becomes thicker than water. 

 The skin is no longer unmarked. The pain that he endured into it is nothing more than a scratch in the surface of matters that are vastly deeper.Ink is more than just a set of needles poking into his skin. It carries a weight, a marking, a meaning. There’s a twist in the gut, a reminder that he has to uphold himself. That he needs to maintain the loyalty to the clan.   The dojo is a quiet place. Only because the hours are vastly earlier than normal for Hanzo to be here. There has been much talk to Hanzo by his father on what is expected of him. It has increased over the last few years, and something within Hanzo finds it off putting to say the least. The elder Shidama is reserved and listens more. It is easier to listen and to observe things that are needed. 

  He lingers in the eves of the morning. He had already cleaned the area where he kneels now, meditating. It is not an uncommon practice in their clan to see if someone is here before anyone. The dawn often wakes him, despite the fact of being riddled with not being able to sleep for countless nights.  He can still remember the night that his father had shown him into the side of the world that he would take a crown into once he was gone. The world of the Yakuza is nothing more to crime-lords to the westerners but to their kin it is more. It goes beyond family, there is a sense of loyalty that is etched into them until they were old enough to understand it. As he had gotten older that need to keep the clan happy: to have them pleased only grew within him. 

  He meditates, that is enough for now.

        It is before the scattering of flower petals and between a match between him and Genji that the voices are heard. That the whispers are caught to the pair of brothers, and the weapon that he had been grasping slips from his fingers. Their father had not been the best man, no, unlikely that most would even say he deserved the title of father. But yet the elder Shimdada crumbles, not from grief- no this loss was expected.

    Something twists in him. Death is another world, another whisper. But it’s also a weight, a steady vice that captures him. It is a message that is not just death, but he can see the way that the elders look towards both of them, how they look at him. Their eyes are not soft, they never have been soft even when he had been a child learning. They are staring no longer at a boy being raised to take his father’s place.

           He is taking his place. This is his world now. The sparring, the fighting, everything that had even been instilled in him is now his.  He can feel Genji’s eyes on him, but he raises to leave the room. There is a silence that follows, he can hear Genji moving to chase after him, but he moves more swiftly and one of the elders draw him back.

                        He crushes a petal with his hand when he stands outside.

-

   He is eighteen when he watches a body hit the ground.

    It had been mere business. That had been executed, and gone wrong. The tides were changing. Things had become something else entirely after his father had passed. There had been less time to grieve, push it under, not notice the phantom echoes that the loss had created. He had learned ago to push forward, push things like that away.

   And how laughable it is now that he stands within a crossfire of events. The Shimdada line still holds its place. It is a heavy place on a boy that had been crowned king of such matters. Much to the dislike of elders, but the business often turned sour, Hanzo was not afraid to detest or demure those who did not like him. He often saw through their petty games even if he had been young. He held his tongue until he had seen enough, heard enough, that it caused the men to find their own shallow graves.

    Duty has always mattered. It hasn’t changed even as the blood pools from him. The water turning red in the shower, it washes and washes from the skin but never seems to end. He does not remember bleeding as much when the dragons lay raw on his skin: those had been different times. He closes his eyes as he nurses over a wound with a bar of soap, ignoring the way it stings. Another scar, another day.

          He breathes and forgets about the blood, until it invades his dreams in a fitful sleep. He raises at the dawn, not saying a word to anyone when he leaves Tokoyo for home.

              But is it even home anymore?   

Hanzo is twenty when he backhands Genji. 

 The moment is nothing more than a pinprick in time. A nerve crossed, some would even say it was him being sore about a sparring lost.  But looking past that it runs deeper. It runs deeper, than just a slap to the face. It’s a set of swords crossed and clashing. It’s the beginning of strain set upon a body and mind, the dragons below the surface are anything but calm. The current beneath feels electric, something that is dangerous and it shows in his eyes. 

 The way he stares towards his younger brother. There’s something within that has changed, and not for the better. He is not just the boy that was told what he would become. He is starting to become what his father desired, what he had been raised to do. What he had been born for, and Genji’s face has a flicker that comes across it but it is gone before the feeling can been seen for what it is.

              ‘Get ahold of yourself’ it’s words that mean nothing, They mean everything, the childish behavior, how disrespectful the other can be. It trickles down like sand in an hourglass, the grains slip past fingers more and more. The glass becoming full and thick of sands that threaten to reach the top. It’s a ticking clock, and there’s a stillness in the air. a brash muttering from Genji at his words, which Hanzo ignores.

   He turns on his heel and goes, nothing but the clattering of other practice in the room. 

-

 Hanzo is twenty-three when he raises his voice. 

 The elders are nothing but a means to an end of all things. The world spins for them and all they do is pull at Hanzo’s footing even more. They do not care for the well being of the brothers, they only care that order is upheld. That the traditions and what is in place never fall never falter. That honor will come before the blood ties that bind you. That family is not the same thing in this clan, within this type of kin.

  There’s a loyalty to their cause their purpose but not to the ties that bind. Not to blood that comes from the same coin. That was lost long ago, even as a child, Hanzo had been poised to be a weapon, to be a king. It remains unchanged, what he was taught, what was spoken to him, what was founded to become his ideals.

 The enraged voice from the elder Shiimada, the way it does not back down. Does not falter even when the elder is stern with him. The debate has been raised for ages, the purpose: what he has do. It has been repeated over and over again to him. ‘If he cannot change, then he must drown.’ it’s a cruelty that most would gasp at but here it is not. Here it is a reminder of what matters and what is against it.  

              Hanzo leaves the room with blood in his mouth from a bitten tongue.

-

Hanzo is twenty-four. 

 They fight on Genji’s birthday.

Voices raised. Idle threats. Words. ‘Does honor mean nothing to you?’‘---

Answers that give no give, give no closure, give no hope. An attitude that remains. No changed viewing, just someone that acts like a child that had his toys taken away. Hanzo scowls, raises and leaves. 

      Genji drinks until he can’t remember that night.

-

Hanzo is twenty-seven when he stops showing anything.

He no longer speaks to Genji. The fight on his birthday had caused a rift that ran deeper than anything before. The outside world blooms with blossoms that show the spring is on it’s way. Hanzo is numb to the fact his brother no longer lingers. There sparring matches are no longer a game. They are no longer playful. They are a test of skill, who can beat who. Who has weakness, who can win.

Genji wins twice.

   Hanzo tastes blood in his mouth when he leaves the dojo. 

    He doesn’t look back at his brother.

-

Hanzo is twenty-eight: when Genji dies.

The trees are pink with petals. It’s an eerie calmness that is in his body, his mind, his bones. The years of stress, the battles waged were kept inside. The stoic face, the emotions never shown. The burden that was created for his shoulders, it stems and pulls like a vice. Every fight, every tense move was poised, it fractured his relationship with Genji, pulled the strings and shattered him. Let his elder brother slip further away until there was nothing but blood between them.

Hanamura is a quiet place despite the chaos in the streets. Despite the violence he has partaken in, despite it all. And yet coming to the room where he stands, swords on his person, his chest feels heavy. There should be nothing there, but perhaps it is the dragons beneath the skin: not the cast of emotions. They shift below the skin.

 A battle is bitter between brothers. 

    Words had long been forgotten when it had come to this. When there was this much blood. It glints off the sliver of the blade, no innocence remaining in any of their features. For a set of brothers so much like ying and yang, now there is nothing. Nothing but the clash of sliver and how it slashes cross skin.

 How it slices apart. How it became a room full of blood dripping from wounds. How his brother is being reduced to nothing more. The wounds are vast, nothing but blood, it seeps from everywhere. Nothing on him is without it, and Hanzo feels nothing. it is like his movements are not his own when he fights, when he fights for a place that should matter so much.

    Some part of him is going to shatter. Some part of him is there when he strikes in a way that leaves Genji near dead, and saying words that Hanzo turns his back on. He steps on his heels and leaves. He leaves, it’s a bloody mess, and the wreckage is a ghost.

       Part of him dies,  he leaves the sword : and petals crush beneath his feet.