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stiltonbasket · 3 months

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If you do Bingyuan prompts:

Bingge discovering/realizing that his children’s beloved head teacher is the friendly Shizun from the other world would be a delight!

(Shen Yuan with a miniature army of tiny heavenly demon children who adore him is just super cute!)

By the age of twenty-five, Luo Binghe possessed—or thought he possessed—all the wealth and treasures in the world that a man could want. His vengeance upon the Cang Qiong Mountain sect was complete, the mountain range burned and its peak lords slain but for the master of Qian Cao Peak and Qi Qingqi, whom he had spared for Liu Mingyan’s sake—and he had long since established himself as Emperor of the demon realm, with no small amount of influence in the world he was born to by virtue of his marriage to the Little Palace Mistress, Hua Zhihan.

But then—half-way through his twenty-seventh year, and three years after the construction of his great fortress close to Huan Hua Palace—he stumbled through a rent in the very skin of the world and found himself back upon Qing Jing Peak, cradled in the arms of a man who wore the face of Luo Binghe’s hated shizun.

He had hardly been there an hour before he discovered that that Shen Qingqiu had been nothing like the jealous fiend who tormented Luo Binghe in his youth. On the contrary, he had welcomed Luo Binghe into his home and bed like a new bride reuniting with her husband at the end of a long day’s work; and for several months after Luo Binghe returned to his own palace in the demon realm, he found no satisfaction in his endless riches, or the tens of wives in his harem.

He spent a full season hunting for that Shen Qingqiu in his own world afterwards, for he knew somehow that the living Shen Qingqiu who had married the other Luo Binghe and his own former Shizun were not one and the same. The Shen Qingqiu Luo Binghe knew had nothing in common with that man other than his face, and even that had been so altered by the spirit living behind it that Luo Binghe had not recognized him as Shen Qingqiu at first sight; but the other Luo Binghe reminded him a great deal of his own child-self, and how single-mindedly he had loved Ning Yingying in those early days at Cang Qiong.

But years went by, and Luo Binghe found nothing—no shadow or trace of that gentle Shen Qingqiu, whether living or dead—and at last, he drank himself sick on dragon-blood wine and unburdened himself to Ning Yingying, confessing that nothing under the sun had brought him joy since that one jewel-bright day with Shen Qingqiu three summers earlier.

Of course, he did not breathe a word about what had actually happened—for Yingying and the others believed that the strange, bewildered husband who stumbled into the hougong that day was none other than Luo Binghe himself, and he had never seen fit to disabuse them of the notion—but she seemed to understand that the better part of his life’s joy had left him, and said:

“A-Luo, if we sisters can’t make you happy as we used to anymore, do you think—do you think a child might make you happy? We’ve been married for nearly ten years, and I hoped…”

Luo Binghe thought for a moment, still dizzy from the six pots of wine he drank with his evening meal; and amid the soft haze clouding his thoughts, he realized that he would have died of envy if the poor imitation of himself from the other world had had a child with his Shen Qingqiu.

But the only children he had seen on Qing Jing Peak that day were a handful of young disciples in their early teens, far too old to belong to that pitiful Luo Binghe. It struck him that this was something that other Luo Binghe could never have—must never have, lest Luo Binghe know what had happened and find his way back to that dream-world to quell his jealousy by ripping his other self limb from limb—and then—

“It might not be a bad idea,” he heard himself say. “What about Yingying? Would you like a child?”

“Very much,” Yingying whispered, taking Luo Binghe’s hand.

Their first daughter, Suoxin, was born the next year; and when the head taiyi placed her in Luo Binghe’s arms, a tiny mote of the tumult in his soul grew calm, and never returned to trouble him again.

The birth of Suoxin’s younger sister Changying followed exactly a hundred days later, for Hua Zhihan had demanded a child of her own as soon as she heard that Ning Yingying was pregnant, and Luo Binghe saw no reason to refuse her. Several of his lesser wives had attempted to follow suit, but he was adamant that no children should be born to them until the children born of his five chief wives had safely reached the age of about three or four: especially after the tragedy that accompanied the birth of Luo Binghe’s first son.

The taiyi later discovered that his mother—Qin Wanyue, who had suffered a miscarriage at Sha Hualing’s hands some six years earlier—had been born with a deformation in one of the chambers of her heart; and due to her general good health and the strengthening effects of her cultivation, Wanyue never noticed it. But her cultivation was not sufficient to protect her from the strain of childbirth; and scarcely five minutes after the baby took his first breath, Qin Wanyue drew her last, dying without knowing anything more of her child than a single, snatched glimpse of his small red face.

The infant was given the name Luo Nianzu, in remembrance of his mother, and handed over to Liu Mingyan to raise. Mingyan had not wanted a child of her own, though she was more than willing to bring Nianzu up in Wanyue’s stead.

And in the wake of Qin Wanyue’s passing, Luo Binghe vowed to himself that he would never sire another child. He had been the instrument of her ruin, wittingly or not: and with three healthy heirs, of whom one was a boy, he refused to risk a second death in the harem.

But his resolve had not hampered Sha Hualing’s plans: and in truth, Luo Binghe should have known better than to expect otherwise. One night, she took Xin Mo from the stand beside his bed and stabbed Luo Binghe straight through the shoulder—rather more ferociously than usual, he thought—and absconded from the palace with three phials full of his spilt blood, returning a fortnight later with a fat baby boy swaddled in one of her own silk veils.

“Did you give birth to him?” Luo Binghe frowned, after he tasted the child’s blood mites and found that they were nearly identical to his own. “You were only gone for two weeks.”

Sha Hualing only laughed at him, and asked that he give their son a name. Luo Binghe named him Shunlei, with the shun for obedience and the lei for thunder; and though Hualing took the hint at once, she was so well-pleased with Shunlei’s name that Hua Zhihan spent the next month sulking about it.

The three years that followed Shunlei’s arrival were peaceful ones, for the demon realm had been brought to heel with Sha Hualing’s aid, and Mobei-jun grew more ruthless towards Luo Binghe’s enemies with every passing day. Yingying and Mingyan governed the harem both kindly and firmly, calming any disputes among the lesser wives and punishing those whose bids for favor put their sisters in danger; and they never faltered in their duty to the little ones, so that Luo Binghe went untroubled by the children’s needs until Liu Mingyan declared that Suoxin and Changying were old enough to begin studying with a trained taifu.

“I already have a candidate in mind,” she said to him over dinner one evening. “Will my lord permit me to look after the arrangements myself?”

“I don’t see why not,” Luo Binghe replied. “Do what you must. Only ensure that the taifu is well educated, and knows how to teach little children without frightening them.” One Shen Qingqiu was bad enough, after all.

And so, preparations went forth for the children’s education. Liu Mingyan wrote to the prospective taifu, who accepted the offer of employment and asked for a month to settle his affairs before moving to the palace; and Yingying began teaching Nianzu and Shunlei how to read, in the hope that the taifu would agree to instruct them alongside Suoxin and Changying.

Luo Binghe, having nothing further to do with the matter, left for the northern desert with Mobei-jun and Sha Hualing.

Linguang-jun had decided to rebel against his nephew’s rule again, and Luo Binghe was weary of indulging him. In the aftermath of Shang Qinghua’s betrayal, he and Mobei-jun had both decided that Linguang-jun’s continued existence was far more trouble than it was worth.

All told, he remained away from the palace for over two moons. When he finally returned, in midsummer, he went straight to his own courtyard and slept for three days without moving a muscle.

And then he awoke, and heard a soft strain of qin music issuing from the other side of the wall.

Luo Binghe froze.

That courtyard was meant to be empty; it had been empty since the day it was built, eight months after he met that other world’s Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe had filled its four rooms with books and bamboo furniture, and even the double bed in the inner chamber had been a replica of the one the other Shizun slept upon—and the courtyard’s little garden had a pavilion with a built-in table for a qin, since the construction of that Shizun’s house and garden made it plain that he liked to practice out of doors.

Who had dared set foot in that courtyard while Luo Binghe was absent?

Hua Zhihan? Qin Wanrong? Certainly not Yingying or Liu Mingyan; it resembled the living quarters at Qing Jing far too closely for either of them to find any peace there.

Trembling with fury, he pulled on the robes he was wearing last night and rushed over to the adjoining courtyard, where he stopped short at the threshold of its white-painted moon gate and gaped at the spectacle awaiting him within.

There was a man sitting at the qin table in the pavilion—a man, in the compound where Luo Binghe lived with his wives—playing a rearrangement of “Flowing Waters,” with Luo Shunlei on his lap. Suoxin and Changying were seated on either side of him, armed with child-sized guqins of their own, and Nianzu was nestled against the man’s shoulder, asleep.

And his face—

Luo Binghe had never seen such a face before. It was not the face of Shen Qingqiu—not the Shen Qingqiu he knew, at any rate—but the light in his eye and the warmth of his voice as he spoke to Suoxin were very like that Shen Qingqiu’s, though Luo Binghe noticed that there was a shade of difference between the two.

He is older, Luo Binghe realized at once, as his heart thundered inside him. The other Shen Qingqiu was young, judging by his manner—perhaps forty, at the very oldest—and my Shizun never even reached the age of fifty.

The other Shizun had worn green, he remembered. He preferred the same clean-cut style of dress that Luo Binghe’s shizun liked to wear, and of course their bodies and faces had been the same, as well; but this man wore s different face entirely, and his worn silk robes were a clean, stark white, like the garments of the wandering rogue cultivators who used to pass through Luo Binghe’s hometown when he was a boy.

The trappings of his flesh made no difference, however.

Luo Binghe knew him for what he was at first sight.

It struck him then that this must be the taifu Liu Mingyan selected for the children. He could not fathom why she would have housed an imperial tutor in the hougong, of all places: but now that he was here, Luo Binghe would rather walk through the Endless Abyss again than permit him to leave.

Luo Binghe could have stood in the doorway and stared at him for a lifetime; but then the taifu looked up and clambered to his feet, tugging the little girls along with him. Shunlei remained where he was, gripping the soft front of the taifu’s gown like a baby monkey clinging to its mother’s back; and Nianzu, securely balanced on the taifu’s hip, slept on without noticing that the man had moved at all.

“My lord,” the taifu said, bowing. “This humble servant offers his—”

“Xin’er greets Father!” Luo Suoxin cut in, glancing up at her teacher for approval. “Did I do it right, Shizun?”

“Yes, except for the part where you interrupted me first,” the taifu laughed. “Go on, Changying.”

Luo Changying nodded and stepped forward.

“Chang’er greets Father,” she said, rather more gracefully than Suoxin.

“Well done,” said the taifu. “Now, Shunlei…?”

Shunlei blinked and tightened his grasp on the taifu’s robes.

“A-Shun is hungry,” he complained, refusing to meet Luo Binghe’s eyes. “Shizun, snack time.”

Luo Binghe bit back a smile. This man was somehow more indulgent with his young charges than the other Shizun had been, and the sight of him holding Nianzu and Shunlei was so desperately sweet that Luo Binghe nearly reached out and touched him.

“Daozhang is the new taifu, I suppose?” Luo Binghe asked instead, taking another step forward. “Your name?”

The taifu nodded.

“This one is called Zhu Qinglan, my lord,” he replied, trying in vain to coax Shunlei down to the ground. “Now, A-Shun, my good little disciple…”

“Shunshun won’t look at him,” the baby insisted, his little voice muffled in the folds of Zhu Qinglan’s coat. “I want to eat cake, not see Fuqin.”

To Luo Binghe’s astonishment, Zhu Qinglan sat down on the steps below the pavilion and drew a wrapped package of sesame cakes out of his sleeve.

“Your imperial father has come back to see you after two months, and you act like this?” he chided, placing one of the cakes on Shunlei’s outstretched palm. “Now, eat your cake like a good child; and then you must get up and greet your father properly, like Xin’er and Chang’er.”

Luo Binghe lifted his hand.

“No need,” he said mildly, watching with half-crazed eyes as Zhu Qinglan stroked Luo Nianzu's fluffy hair. “Shun’er is always upset after this lord returns from his travels abroad. I do not see the children as often as I would like; but I try to dine with them at least once a week, and that little demon in your arms refuses to speak to me for days on end if I ever dare to arrive late.”

With that, he turned on his heel and swept out of the courtyard. He could not stand in Zhu Qinglan’s presence any longer, lest he do something that would terrify his children and turn their Shizun against him forever; and as it was, the little demon servant who brought breakfast to his quarters ten minutes later nearly died of fright at the sight of him.

“Zhu Qinglan,” Luo Binghe said to himself, after the petrified lackey made his escape. “The name suits him, whether it is a false one or no.”

He drained the last of his tea, and smiled.

“I’ve finally caught you, Shizun.”

#svsss #bingyuan #binggeyuan #the scum villain's self saving system #my fic #i live to serve and i have delivered #this is my first foray into multichapter svsss fic so please reblog if you liked it/would like to see more!#shen yuan's name is still shen yuan btw #we will unravel the backstory behind the name he's using Later #as well as some other.....backstory #;)

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andaniellight · 8 months

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Hey has anyone made a fic where in the first weeks of being a straw hat crew Sanji and the others discussed about the importance of celebrating birthdays on the going merry and of course out of the five of them it's Zoro who couldn't care less about his birthday except if they're going to celebrate it with lots of alcohols and no sweets, cakes, whatever the hell those kinds of atrocities. But because Sanji was only 19, raised by Jeff for years which means he's petty as hell, he took that as a challenge to make mosshead obsess with his own birthday for the rest of his life.

He even told the whole crew to plan it with him. The kind of special birthday that can be make Zoro want to stay sober enough to enjoy without feeling guilty bullshit. All of the straw hats are onboard of course—hah! Onboard. Obviously they are. Mainly because they will all get to feast on so many meals and desserts prepared by their insanely skilled chef. All Sanji's got to do is prepare the most Zoro-kind of birthday cake and a banquet that will alter Zoro's remaining braincells forever. Maybe even make a bunch of pavlovas that taste like alcohol also. Won't hurt and worth to try, right?

#👀✨#ZoSan #OPLA #One Piece Live Action #Roronoa Zoro #Vinsmoke Sanji #can anyone turn this idea into a real fic cause in my complicated head it's going to turn into a multichaptered story #i know i tagged this with a ship but it can be just gen ofc #ZoLu #SanLu #LuSan #Zoro x Sanji #Sanji x Zoro #Zoro x Luffy #Nami #Usopp #Monkey D. Luffy

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dropofbittersea · 3 months

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“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Stiles?”

“I, uh, I need some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?”

Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.”

“Stiles...what are you doing right now?”

***

Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work.

Partly because their visit was a complete surprise.

But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend.

Or even know who Derek was.

But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #derek hale #sterek #stiles stilinski #ao3 #fanfiction #teen wolf #multichapter #fake dating #meet cute

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hjbender · 1 year

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Finish the story first and then post it Finish the story first and then post it Finish the story first and then post it Finish the story first and then post it Finish the story first and then post it—

#writing woes #ao3 #multichapter stories #wips #writer problems #fanfiction #why am i like this #oh wait i know why #i desire immediate validation and encouragement #because my own isn't enough #danny devito #meme #so anyway i started blasting

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 3 months

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Stede is the resident cryptid hunter on a team setting out to find the kraken. Ed is literally a kraken. Can I make it any more obvious?

This is the first chapter of a story plotted at around 50k words, rated M for now and E eventually.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my fics #if i don't have a multichapter fic in progress i literally die apparently

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sibylsleaves · 2 days

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some things fall when they're meant to fall

11k (so far) | rated T | read on ao3 Eddie’s gaze drop to Buck’s lips—pink, like his birthmark. Eddie wants to taste those lips, and he wants it with a fierceness so sudden it shocks him. “I’m, uh,” Buck stammers. “Last night. When you saw me and Tommy…we—we were on a date.” Everything inside Eddie goes still. If his heart is a kite, then this is the moment it plummets back to earth.

or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.

written for @burnthatbridge

Chapter 2/4 now up on ao3

Eddie is happy for Buck. Obviously. It goes without saying that he’s happy for him.

And look, it’s not like it’s hard. Not when Buck’s been walking around like the LA sun shines specifically for him. He’s got this shimmering halo of excitement around him these days, and beneath that, a kind of deep relief. Like some of the heavy weight he’s dragged around with him his entire life has been lifted.

More than anyone Eddie’s ever known, Buck has spent his life searching for something. And finally, he’s found it.

Not Tommy—although Buck does get a particular blushing grin on his face whenever he talks about him. What Buck has found is something bigger than that. A truth about himself. An answer to a question he never knew to ask.

So yeah, Eddie’s happy for him. How could he not be? This whole year, when he hasn’t been worrying about Chris, he’s been worried about Buck and how he’s been dealing with the aftermath of the lightning strike.

He’s not worried anymore.

And as for Eddie’s own revelation…the realization that for him, all roads lead to Buck, well…

He’s not thinking about it. He’s doing everything in his power to act like nothing’s changed, to act the way the Eddie Diaz of two weeks ago would act. The Eddie Diaz whose brain hadn’t yet caught up to his heart on the matter of Evan Buckley.

“So, there’s a Dodgers game this evening,” Eddie says, jiggling his car keys nervously while he waits for Buck to finish changing after their shift. He rests his gaze somewhere to the left of Buck's bare chest. “I was thinking about inviting Tommy over to watch. And I know you’re watching Jee so Chim and Maddie can work on wedding stuff—”

“Eddie,” Buck tugs his shirt over his head and looks at Eddie quizzically. “We’ve already been over this. I was never actually mad that you were hanging out with Tommy without me. I mean yeah, I guess I felt slightly excluded, but it was more about—”

“Yeah, yeah I know, the giant crush you had on the guy,” Eddie says with a fond eye-roll. There. That’s something two-weeks-ago Eddie would’ve said, right?

(read chapter 2 on ao3)

taglist:

@remembertheskittles @myao3library-blog @sorryimlatecapt @swiftiesisters14 @bewitchedbewilderedbisexual

@myphilomena @neuromagpie @fleurdebeton @daffi-990 @crysty-rp-2023

@confetti-cupcake @pixelmator5 @fabgirlll @evansbuckkley @lyricfulloflight

@daisievalentine @crazyfangirlallert @bucklavaa @torturedpoetdean @smallandalmosthonest

@notalwaysdead @anatargmova @marmottion @flavored-soda @thebirdling

@tulipfromtheinternet @takemebythehand-andsetmefree @sunshinediaz @thatsveryood @devirnis

@messyhairdiaz @skies-below @actingcamplibrarian @dirundmir @stagefoureddiediaz

@wh0rebehavi0rmain @dancy-nrew @eddiebabygirldiaz @screamatthescreen @organizedstardust

@leothil

#ive never posted a multichapter fic before so i have no idea what im doing #ive also never done a proper taglist before haha #chapter 2 is up though!!!! chapter 3 hopefully coming soon #sibyls words #some things fall sequel #it's not a sequel though it's just chapter 2 #911 fic #buddie fic

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bluerasbunny · 5 months

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hes a material girl YN wouldn't understand

putting this under a read more to spare from my yelling, but holy SHIT! VKTRS is at 500 hits and 71 kudos, dude that is INSANE! especially for a fic with ONE chapter!!

the success was entirely unprecedented and unexpected, i'm honestly still trying to process it all!!

thank you all so much for the continued support!!! it means so much to me as a young author and artist!! <3 /gen

#grayy art #grayy rambles #fnaf #dca fandom #dca radio host au #video killed the radio star au #vktrs au #fnaf sun #sun x reader #god im still in shock i cant even process it properly #500 people have read my writing!! 500 whole people!!! imagine a room with 500 people dude #and on my FIRST multichapter?? that's INSANE!!!#genuinely thank you all so much!!!!#chapter 2 is on the way- however long it may take i WILL get chapter 2 to you all!!!

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lale-txt · 7 months

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"kill them with kindness" wrong. fuck their dad and their grandpa. actually fuck their whole family tree

#blowing a kiss for all my dilf and gilf enjoyers #what if i'm telling you that i have a multichapter fic in my drafts with this.........#for once i wanted to write a messy reader with questionable life choices and oh boy... am i having fun #lale.txt

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greenandsorrow · 1 month

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What once was.

the secret history fanfic || masterpost

"My mother and Henry's used to be friends and they would always take us to Pennsylvania in the summer, back when we were kids. We were the best of friends, inseparable... Henry was a chubby but tall boy, three years older than me. I was a frail but loud girl, very outgoing. We used to play at a creek, where my father had installed us a swing. One day Henry got in a terrible car crash and... he almost died. I went back to Greece, completely losing touch with him. Nothing could prepare me for the fact that I was to meet him again at college."

Warnings; possibility of smut, nsfw content, mentions of childhood trauma, triggering themes in general, mentions of abandonment, physical injuries, mental health issues, depression, self harm, drug abuse, smoking, homophobic people from the 80's, some very cute moments that might be out of character for the gang, stereotypes that I don't resign with but are part of the plot, dark themes that have to do with death, very descriptive, pov changes, paganism, it's the secret history so you know what to expect...

an introduction matching spotify playlist my masterlist

🕯️If you enjoyed, please leave a tip-> here(PayPal)

🕯️Dividers used; @/saradika-graphics

🕯️Comments are highly appreciated, I love interacting with you!!!

🕯️You can always ask to be tagged!

🕯️Please do not copy or repost my work anywhere.

Chapters will start being added in June. I just like to tease stuff beforehand, so that more people can ask to be tagged.

Tag list; @futurecorps3 @gxdsmonsters @waterisnotreal0 @breathingstarlight @anonymousewrites @sunlightempire @f4iriypng @yourlocalloser-core

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cy-fi-theansweris42 · 1 month

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So I know I keep talking about the Old People Of All Time from Psychonauts 2 (the Psychic 7) but right now I'm replaying the first game and going through all the memory vaults again and like

I'm sorry but now can I be normal after this slide in Milla's memory vault? Look at their little smiles!!!

And in Psychonauts 2 they tell us about how Sasha and Milla have a telepathic link and how they're always talking!

We don't know how long they've been partners or exactly how they met (there's always the lipo document but that's honestly pretty outdated information) but we know that they're close and they have offices right next to each other and the other Psychonauts gossip about them and just like

[shakes the universe] I need to know more about them 😭

#Psychonauts #Milla Vodello #Sasha Nein #Sashamilla #They are so freaking cute #If I could come up with ideas for a multichapter fic where they meet and grow close to each other YOU KNOW I WOULD WRITE IT

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anistarrose · 9 months

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what if I wrote an Eighth Bird Kravitz AU but there wasn't a single scene from the Stolen Century that featured into it, and instead it mostly focused on music theory/bardic studies professor Kravitz and arcana/science professor Barry at the same college, accidentally becoming best friends again by bonding over both being academically burnt out nervous wrecks

#taz #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #i have so many wips but like. i have like an entire multichapter arc of this fic written in my mind #multiple major plot twists included #and i want to share so bad but a textpost won't do it justice. it would just hit so different as a 60k fic #a real “realizing you and your bestie are liches” slowburn #i swear i may have made a post about this before but the concept still haunts me #kravitz taz #barry bluejeans

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cthulhusstepmom · 8 months

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It was really just Ghost's luck, this entire series of fucking calamities. First and foremost leave, which at this point he felt he had well enough in hand. At least he had until one John MacTavish had clambered into his life. Ghost had been perfectly content with coming and going, haunting his bare bones flat in Manchester when he was unwanted and unneeded on base. Sure he liked Kyle and Price well enough but living on top of each other crammed into shoe boxes did little for wanting to stick around unduly; besides Price taking leave was a rare occurrence and Gaz had a busy life off base that he slipped in and out of like an otter in a stream(good god if Ghost never heard about another rave or awkward morning after of Kyle Garrick plus however many guests it would be too soon). But he wanted to be with Soap, Johnny made the shitty bunks and the paper thin walls worth it. Made the constant running and gunning feel like more than just a macabre 9-5.

Made Ghost feel alive again.

This would be the first major leave since Last Almas, at least a month and a half of hard earned rest and relaxation in the comfort of their own beds. Ghost was dreading it. The nightmares were always worse in his flat, the pseudo domestic setting bringing forth memories of bloody puddles and broken crayons instead of the tried and true reruns of his own torture and burial. His therapist had told him to put more of himself into his flat, to try and make the place a safe haven even if it wasn't really a home. The problem with that was quite simple, there wasn't anything left of Simon Riley to give. At least there wasn't until Soap. Until the long buried human part of his brain was rudely shaken awake by a tirade of Scottish nonsense and good-natured touches. And now he was just supposed to leave and go back to the barren walls and sterile rooms of his little holding cell.

To make things even better in this home that wasn't home, the first thing he smelled upon crossing the threshold was an overwhelming odor of mildew and mold. Finding the source had been easy enough, sometime between now and last whenever the fuck he'd left last a pipe had burst and flooded the whole place; ruining the carpet and corrupting the few furnishings he had with dark black mold. His first call had been to building maintenance and they'd been quick to give him an estimate on just how long he had to stay the fuck out of the flat, at least a month funny that. The next call had been to Price, with no answer. Bastard was probably sipping expensive whiskey on the beach somewhere warm. Intellectually he knows that Gaz would offer him his spare room but he would rather not be subject to the conga line of mostly unclothed people Gaz apparently has traipsing through his condominium at any given hour. Which leaves him a single option.

Soap doesn't answer. Probably due in large part to the fact that Ghost doesn't call him.

Logically he knows that the Sergeant probably wouldn't turn him away, Johnny just isn't wired that way. But the element of surprise has served him well and in this fucked scenario going into the blind, Ghost will take all the cards he can shove up his sleeve.

It's not much to go off of, just the address he memorized from Johnny's file, but with the magic of modern technology he finds the little flat soon enough. The drive to Edinburgh is pleasant if long and the weather is mockingly mild. All setting the stage for another calamity as Ghost finds himself standing on the stoop of his Sergeant's flat (he ought to recognize by now that the universe forbids him from having a good day). He raps sharply on the wood of the door three times before he can convince himself that sleeping under a bridge is a better plan of action. It takes a minute or two before he hears anything, cursing himself for thinking that Johnny is even at home, before a muffled crash and wicked cursing within the flat signals that this is the right place and, for better or worse, Johnny's home. Ghost locks his knees and tries to figure out what to do with his hands as the cacophony grows closer.

"Sorry aboot tha, was wrapped up in tha studio- Ghost?"

Ghost opens his mouth to reply but the words fall right out of his head and onto the well loved welcome mat as his eyes take in his Sergeant. His hands are smeared with what his untrained eye assumes is paint, the flecks of color dance up his forearms and over the old t shirt he's wearing. His hair is loose and longer than it usually is, no sense in gelling it back on leave he supposed. But what really stops his mind from working is the thin band of black leather wrapped around Soap's neck, clasped with a shiny silver buckle.

A fucking collar.

Before Ghost can pull his thoughts together, he's being dragged by the front of his sweatshirt into the flat and pressed against the wall so the door can swing forcefully shut.

"Is everything ok? You in trouble?" Johnny asks, concern burning in his eyes.

"Pipe burst in my flat, thought I'd ask if I could surf your couch." He manages to choke out, eyes lingering on the way the leather hugs his subordinate's neck.

"Of course yeh can yeh numpty! Gave me a right fucking scare ya big bastard, showing up all silent on my doorstep. Coulda called, even sent a text eh Ghost. I was at the shops this morning, if I would've known you were coming I woulda shopped for two." Soap releases his hold on the fabric and allows Ghost room to leave the wall.

"Wear that shopping didya?" Is about the most coherent thing he can manage.

Soap looks at him confused before a hand travels up to his throat and a look of dread crosses his features.

"Oh shite."

A blazing red blush heats the tips of his Sergeant's ears, travelling down to his cheeks and collarbones as he runs a hand over his face.

"S'not what it looks like I promise, I don't even wear it oot most of the time." Most of the time? "It just reminds me of a throat mic; S' grounding, my shrink called it a sensory thing? I dinnae ken, but if it helps it helps y'ken-" the bubbling fountain of embarrassed explanation that flows from Soap's lips doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

Ghost reaches out a hand and pinches his bicep.

"-Ow, fuck was that for?"

"Johnny look at me, think I can judge how you dress on leave?" The skull print gaiter goes a lot further than any words to prove his point. Paired with sunglasses and a black baseball cap it's close enough to a mask to prevent a total mental breakdown.

Johnny looks over his visage with understanding eyes, nods gravely once and then turns towards the innards of the flat.

"Awright, let's get you set up! Loo is over there, it's a wee bit cramped so you can use my shower, here's the living room and ma bedroom is through there, that right there is the studio it was the second bedroom but it had the best lighting-" Ghost follows obediently, halfheartedly taking in bright decor that sings with Soap's frenetic energy.

How the fuck is he gonna survive Soap wearing that around the house?

#Headcanon: Soap wears a collar when he's alone because it grounds him #this little tidbit appeared magically in my drafts this morning cause midnight is the writer's hour #Ghost wont make fun of him for it(he'd bw a hypocrite) but when they get back he will joke about keeping a leash on him #still working on multichapter Fae!Soap extravaganza its gonna be swag #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

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