The Nerdy Self Insert

|| 20 || All Pronouns Writer, Artist, and lover of all things fandom

[pluvial-lake]

Reader who has a real job and actual bills. Reader who prioritizes her own peace over his feelings. Reader who has hobbies that don’t revolve around a man. Reader who actually has a life outside of him. Reader who says “no” and means it. Reader who isn't easily impressed. Reader who’s petty. Reader who has trust issues. Reader who chooses her girls every single time. Reader who has a body count and isn't ashamed of it. Reader who is exhausted by male fragility. Reader who holds grudges. Reader who’s a mess. Reader who’s mentally ill. Reader who makes mistakes. Reader who’s manipulative. Reader who’s selfish. Reader who’s morally gray. Reader who’s awful. Reader who genuinely doesn’t give a fuck.

[thenerdyselfinsert]

More newly established relationship with Simon and reader (Simon's a little bit of a himbo in this one, also kind of implied fem reader):

The two of them wake up in the morning after a fun night:

Y/n: "Fuck, I'm so nauseous."

Simon: "..."

Y/n: "I feel like I'm gonna vomit."

Simon: "I'm not ready to be a father."

Y/n: "..."

Y/n: "I'm sorry, WHAT???"

Simon: "You're nausous."

Y/n: "Yeah. What does that have to do with your lack of paternal insticts??"

Simon: "I've seen the movies, I know what this."

Y/n: "... Do you think I'm nausous because of...morning sickness?"

Simon: "Well we just had sex last night and now you're sick. What else could it be?"

Y/n: "..."

Y/n: "I have...so many questions, but the main one is, you know I'm not pregnant, right??"

Simon: "Well why do you have morning sickness if you're not pregnant?"

Y/n: "..."

Simon: "..."

Y/n: "Are you gas lighting me? Am I being gaslit??"

Simon: "It's a genuine question!"

Y/n: "Simon! I went beer for beer with you last night!"

Simon: "And?"

Y/n: "'And???' What do you mean 'and????'"

Simon: "I don't feel sick."

Y/n: "..."

Y/n lays back down faces away from him.

Y/n: "It's too fucking early for this shit Simon. I'm going back to bed."

Simon: "..."

Simon: "Goodnight :("

[thenerdyselfinsert]

Just a thougut about a newly established relationship with Simon:

Y/n: "Simon, my eyes are itchy."

Simon: "You want me to scratch them for you?"

Y/n: "..."

Simon: "..."

Y/n: "In what world is that a solution?"

Simon: "One where you're complaining about something I can't solve."

Y/n: "...Simon. Eyedrops."

Simon: "Wot?"

Y/n: "Eyedrops, asshole. Can you please get me some eyedrops."

Simon: "..."

Y/n: "Simon, do you not use eyedrops???"

Simon: "I just let them itch."

Y/n: "..."

Simon: "They sort themselves out eventually."

Y/n: "How have you survived this long without me???"

[beanlot-deactivated20260403]

realistically, simon riley is numbed to shit when he loses you; when he feels the same soul he swore he could touch slowly drain from your limbs, when he sees how your eyes gloss over and even though you’re right in front of him, you’re suddenly light years away.

he’s good at holding it together. it’s what he’s been forced to do all his life, moulded by his father, and shaped by such cruelties of war. you’d think he was a heartless bastard, the way he just looks ahead, not even risking a tear.

but it’s silent, at least to him. he can’t hear price murmuring quietly into the radio, can’t feel soap’s gaze immediately falter elsewhere - maybe out of respect, maybe to let him know he wasn’t to judge a man who’d just lost his world.

he tried applying pressure, stopping the bleeding, easing the needle in to get you floating on morphine, just to pull you through until their evac could intervene. sometimes, it’s not enough; he knew that. he knew how weak and fragile the human body could be, how the mind is wretched with denial when it comes to loss. he was no stranger to pulling soldiers away from their beloved comrades, slapping some sense into them - this is war, son. fucking ge’it together, you wanna die?

simon riley can keep it together, at least on the superficial level - no tears, no weeping, no immediate sorrow. grief was a part of the process, he’d been birthed in grief, so why does it feel so different now? why does it feel like he just held the sun, so full of youth and potential and innocence, and watched it dim into lifelessness? his sun?

he wasn’t gonna be pathetic, no fucking chance. he’d rather chew on glass than show people how much of a fucking failure and how weak and pitiful and f-

“you can cry, mate.” price would whisper to him in the truck, and simon wouldn’t have even realised he’d been sat in the passenger seat, staring down at his bloodied hands like the lost shell of the man he now is for the past three hours. your blood, dried and merlot, the only thing he has left of you.

his body is weak and fragile, his mind is wretched with denial, and he’s too out of it to remember soap tugging him back ever so slightly so they could lift your body.

simon would look up, eyes rather defensive, offended even. and for a moment, price would see the flicker of anger, how dare you tell me what i should be doing? you’re not my fucking dad, you’re not entitled. shoulders tensed, eyes momentarily squinting from such rage.

and then, it all softens. his eyebrows arch upwards, his shoulders slump, and his eyes are so glassy that price could no longer see the umber in them. he’d sniffle, body curling in on itself, and though his expression is hidden within the confines of his balaclava - there’s no mistaking the anguish in his eyes, the wallowing fall of his tears so sudden and desperate. he’s whimpering, wilting; it’s hard to believe that a ghost, one so knowingly indestructible, could sound so destroyed.

[sc-doeseverything]

Ghost, Resting

My take “Mars Resting” by Diego Valázquez but with Simon “Ghost” Riley

[alien-grave]

PSA FOR FIC WRITERS

TAG YOUR FUCKING FICS BEFORE THE FIC ITSELF.

I do not care if it’s sfw. You STILL need to tag it regarding what’s in it. Tropes, fluff, they held hands, whatever.

You need to include content warning and tags before every fic you post. Even if it’s the most boring vanilla fluffy piece, DO IT. Some people have gotten too comfortable not tagging their fics, and then don’t know what to do when they get in trouble for it.

And obviously if you ARE writing nsfw or any sort of dark topic, need I state the obvious?

Don’t give these fandom police a reason to complain about us. Your best defense is TAGS and WARNINGS before the fic. Why? Because then it’s THEIR problem if they chose to ignore the tags and read it anyways while knowing there are things they won’t like. The blame is off you and they can’t use it as a reason to bash fetish/kink, dark and dead dove writers.

I’m saying this for your own good. This is to protect yourselves. Do your due diligence.

[thenerdyselfinsert]

I'm gonna put this out there because it's 8:47am and I am now laying in bed crying because of a fanfic-- please tag your fics correctly. Don't leave out tags because you think it'll spoil the story. It won't. Generic tags like, "Hurt no comfort" or "Major character death" will maybe spoil your story a singular plot point, but it won't spoil 1. how you kill off your character, 2. what character dies, or 3. the main plot.

Tagging fics helps people avoid tags they wouldn't necessarily want to read either because it's not their cup of tea, or because they don't want to be in that mind space. Tagging SOME tags, but not others can lead to a reader being misled about the content of your story, and thats not right or fair to anyone.

[wolfstarlibrarian]

One of the coolest parts about being a fan of fanfic is you can actually contact the author. And they will respond. And then you can message them nonstop until they allow you into their lives and then you’re becoming their beta reader and suddenly you know multiple authors of all types of fiction books and fanfic authors who will drag out their deleted fics for you to read at a moments notice.

Anyway. Comment on fics and message authors. It’s absolutely worth it.

[ekjohnston]

And then you end up at their wedding or fly across an ocean to meet them for dinner. And once upon a time, when people asked you met you were obtuse about it, but now you can say "We both thought Mulder and Scully should kiss more", and it's only a little weird.

[fox-quills]

And sometimes you wind up dating

[effloradox]

nowhere man, sitting in his nowhere land

pairing: the goblin king x gn!reader

notes: i love this toxic idiot king, manipulation is his love language and i stand by that, there’s mentions of a fear of crowds in this as well btw!

word count: 2.0k

The King of the Goblin City is a paradox. The more time you spend around him the less you think you know about him.

It's not safety you feel when you're caged in his arms, but it's the closest thing to safety that you'll experience in the Goblin City. The eyes of the party guests follow your every move. They prowl among the ballroom in silken garbs and feathered masks, all of them leering at you with barely concealed malice and hunger. His gaze is the only soft one directed at you though, for the life of you, you can’t work out why.

Every evening you receive a new outfit, made only of the finest materials by the goblins under instruction from their King so you might be paraded around in front of the upper class who all look so very human to you. Their disgust is sometimes the only thing that reminds you that they are not. That and the appearance of a smile that is too sharp, with just a few too many teeth to be human. The King's adoring gaze provides you with a poisoning sense of comfort in those moments, as you tangle your fingers into the fabric of his suit that little bit tighter, bringing yourself that little bit close to him, to his obvious delight. It became apparent a while ago that parading you around in situations that make you uncomfortable is a favourite pastime for the King.

You remind yourself of the concept of love bombing and stockholm syndrome so often they might as well be tattooed on the back of your eyelids.

He twirls you around the marble dance floor night after night, dizzying you with the feeling of reliving the same day over and over. You've long since given up on trying to work out how long you've been there. It could be weeks, months, years, decades; you barely recognise time passing aside from acknowledging there is a day and night. Time continues to pass but your reflection never changes.

Your days are mostly spent alone, wandering the expanse of staircases and corridors that make up his castle. Trying to escape would be pointless. You tried mapping the castle out when you first arrived but the paths changed everyday so you soon gave up. You're not sure, but you think his castle might be as sentient as the labyrinth is. Both of them like to play tricks on you. You must've spent hours gazing out into the labyrinth, occasionally watching a runner make their impossible attempt. No one ever makes it as far as the castle. Most don't even make it to the gates of the Goblin City. You're not sure if you pity or envy them.

Maybe it's both.

You don't see the King often during the daylight hours, usually just a few of the goblins under instruction to attend to your every whim. Their resentment is barely hidden but you don't blame them. You've seen how their King treats them if you express any indication of displeasure and you don't remember the last time you felt anything close to happiness. You would hate yourself too.

"I do so hope I'm not boring you, dearest." The King's voice cuts through your train of thought, bringing you crashing back into reality. The ballroom is filled with the titter of voices and clinking glasses but it all seems to go quiet as the King speaks. His tone is sardonic and the smile on his face is terse with irritation. It's with a chilling shock that you realise you have no idea what he's been talking to you about. Time seems to come to a stop as a hush falls over the room. It’s all you can do to stutter out whatever words spring to mind.

"Of course not, your highness." His eyes narrow at you and you panic as you try to think of a clever way to appease him. "I was merely lost in the fabric of your suit."

Whilst you've heard the King say that he would move the stars for no one, mainly to a few of the labyrinth runners, the outfit he's sporting tonight would contradict that statement in the most egotistical sense possible. The suit looks as though the fabric was taken straight from the night sky, fireworks of constellations are scattered across it and it's almost hypnotic to follow those beautiful fractals as they stretch across the expanse of his torso. They shimmer under the lights in the room, adding to their hypnotising effect. Even as you lie to him, you find your eyes drawn towards his shoulder, tracing one of the constellations dancing towards his back. You allow yourself a moment to follow them to their conclusion before returning to his gaze.

Your answer pleases him, you can tell from the way his posture straightens ever so slightly, and the ever-watching eyes seem to wander away from the two of you as the guests realise they're not about to witness an explosion of rage from their monarch. The music seems to get louder once more as the dancing begins again, and the King leads you in a slow dance you don't know the name of.

"You don't have to be so afraid you know, dearest. No harm shall befall you here. I shall ensure that." His words ring hollowly in the face of their disdain and bring you little comfort. You've seen what happens to things that the King loses interest in. Your safety in this land is only assured as long as he finds you interesting and his attention doesn't linger on things for long.

Your doubt must still be evident on your face as he stops you in place, a look of contemplation passing over his face for just a moment. His face scans the crowd around you before settling back on you. The smile you're faced with brings you no comfort for what is about to happen to you next.

"I shall offer you a gift if you put your trust in me to ensure your safety during your stay here."

"And what would that be?" You're not sure what he could offer you that would grant you any assurance of your safety but a traitorous part of you wants to know what he's willing to offer you. It's a part of yourself that you've found harder and harder to suppress as the way he treats you contrasts so starkly with your surroundings. It preens under his undivided attention and you're not sure how much longer you can go on resisting temptation.

Maybe you still feel resentment towards your old life and this is your brain's way of dealing with it. It's not a pleasant memory to think that someone wanted you gone so badly they called upon the Goblin King to take you away. Worse still to think they didn't even try that hard to solve the labyrinth. From what you know they ended up in the bog of eternal stench.

It's hard to feel sorry for them.

"I'll offer to tell you my name." You go still in his arms. He's offered you many things since you arrived in his labyrinth but this has been off limits since you arrived. You're not stupid, you know enough about the fae to know about the importance of names in their culture. True names have power, hence why you still haven't told him your real name, and for him to offer you something so important stirs something deep within you whether you want it to or not. There’s something about the Goblin King that sings so sweetly to your very being that, even after everything, there’s part of you that wants to please him.

You look closely at him, searching in his face for any sign of deception. His amused, almost fond, smile gives nothing away but you're still hesitant to trust him at his word. He weaves lies so beautifully it almost feels like you're already trapped in his web, your fate sealed before you've even been presented with the opportunity to make a decision.

The fact you consider yourself damned already has definitely started to affect your ability to make rational decisions. You're damned if you do but you're damned if you don't.

"How do I prove to you that I trust you?" He’s pleased with you, you think; pleased that you’re playing his games now. You didn’t speak for what you think might have been weeks when you first arrived, too in a state of shock to understand what was happening. Those first few balls were filled with panic attacks as you struggled to accept the new reality you found yourself in. The King was besotted with you from the offset, hence why you remained human instead of becoming a goblin slave, but even he seemed to grow frustrated with your inability to compose yourself for those first few weeks.

That didn’t stop him banishing any guests he saw making fun of your sorry state.

"Dance with people. Mingle. Enjoy yourself for once rather than acting like a shrinking violet." It shouldn't be a hard thing to do. It shouldn't set your heart racing in your chest, but it does. Crowds have never really been your thing, even when the crowd was made up of normal people. You nod, more to show you've understood what he's asking of you, but then he's passing your hand to one of his subjects and you're being pulled into the fray before you can fully comprehend what's happening.

The slow dance the King had led you in was a far cry from what the rest of the guests had been doing around you, you realise. It’s fast paced, with an intricate routine that you can’t seem to master no matter how often you’re forced to do it. The first few minutes mainly consist of you muttering apologies for stepping on the toes of all the people in close proximity to you and trying to avoid their glowering eyes. Eventually the steps start to come to you a bit more naturally, but you still slip up, leaving you muttering anxious apologies every few minutes.

The King is suspiciously missing from the dance floor. His subjects crane to look at him when he’s in close proximity to them but all their eyes seem to be focused solely on you.

It's terrifying.

You can feel the anxiety surging through you as you turn in your partner’s arms frantically, desperate to find him in the crowd. The dance continues on as you're passed from partner to partner; men, women, and all others alike, all taking your hand and twisting your body in ways you'd considered impossible just a few hours ago. The room becomes a blur of lights and decorations and it feels like you're stuck on a fairground ride, only able to keep your current dance partner in focus as your brain scrambles to process the barrage of sensations. It almost starts to make you feel motion sick.

It's only when you finally spot the King on the other side of the crowd that you begin to calm down. He's across the hall when you spot him and then, barely in the blink of an eye, your hand is being passed back to him as he pulls you into his side, guiding you out of the crowd with ease. Hands reach for you to pull you back into the chaos but a glowering look from their King stops the guests just short of actually touching you.

He brings you close to him, so close that his wild hair tickles against your skin.

"You've done well, dearest. You may refer to me as Jareth in private." He mutters his words into your ear, so softly you almost mishear them. You don't ask if it's his real name, too busy trying to calm your racing heart. When he pulls you tighter against his chest, either to soothe you or to remind the onlooking crowd of people that you're his, you try to ignore the warmth it sparks within you.

Damned if you do it is.

[thenerdyselfinsert]

HELL YEAH!! I LOVE WHEN THE COMMUNITY IS INCLUDED!! FUCK TERFS!!!

FUCK TERFS! QUEER LOVE FOR THE WIIIIIN

[thenerdyselfinsert]

Trans Man! Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN! Trans! Reader

A while back, some silly goose on this site was like "I hate Trans ghost" and "I hate gay COD ships" so I'm making this and another fic out of spite :) Also, because the community reacted super nicely to my poll about trans Ghost. For those of y'all who aren't queerphobic, enjoy!

Also, I originally wrote this with reader as a trans woman, but decided to change it and make it more ambiguous so that any trans person could see themselves in that position. I tried to make sure it was pretty genderneutral, but if I missed anything, let me know!

This has not been beta read, so sorry for any mistakes.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Tags: t4t, trans reader, gender neutral reader, trans man Ghost, Fluff, age gap?, Ghost has ambiguous genitalia, Reader has ambiguous genitalia

CW: Minor discussion of transphobia

It had been years since Simon had seen you. You had left the military around five or so years ago, something about leaving for "medical reasons." He didn't really understand it at the time.

But when he saw you across the bar, he understood more thoroughly. You were no longer the headstrong recruit he knew, but instead, you had transformed into this stunning vision.

You had transitioned, that mucu was obvious, but there was still something about you that's so familiar. Your eyes still held the fire they did when you were serving alongside him.

You hadn't seen him yet, and he had a choice to make. Either he could close his tab, finish his beer, and go home, or, he could find his balls and go talk to you. He stared down into the amber glass, contemplating his choice before downing the last of his drink, hopping off his barstool and heading towards you.

He cleared his throat, catching your attention and the calm smile on your face immediately turned to panic when your eyes met his. His heart throbbed a bit, knowing that feeling a little too well.

"Hello," you said, trying to act like this was your first time meeting.

"Good to see you again," Simon said. "You get a new haircut? You look different."

You let out a laugh at that, the tension dissipating just slightly as you averted your eyes from his, "I was really hoping you wouldn't recognize me..."

"Your eyes gave you away," Simon said bluntly, "Always have."

"Ah, old habits die hard I guess," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

Simon put a hand on the seat back of the bar stool next to you, "This seat taken?"

You shook your head, "No, uh, have a seat."

Simon did just that, ordering another beer, "You look good."

"Oh, uh, thanks Ghost-"

"-Simon," he corrected, "When I'm not workin', I'm just Simon."

You blinked at him, the casualty feeling unfamiliar. When you were in the military, he was the fearsome "Ghost." He was your outranking officer. But now, sitting in front of you with the bottom of his baklava pulled up over his nose, he was just Simon.

Just Simon. You liked that.

"Well, thank you Simon," you said softly.

"'s no problem," he said softly, taking a sip from his drink, "'s this why you left?"

You let out a little sigh, choosing not to look up at him, "Well... yeah, kinda."

"Kinda?" He questioned.

You bit the inside of your cheek, "I just- I don't know. I didn't feel like I could be around you guys while I was transitioning, you know? I didn't think you'd get it."

"I get it," Simon said, more than you know.

"I don't know," you said, "I just- I felt weird. I was less worried about you guys in the task force, I was more worried about... well... everyone else."

"Why's that?" Simon asked.

You couldn't help the little scoff that left your lips, "Well, I don't know if you tuned it out, but some of the shit those guys talk about is vile." You let out a heavy sigh, the memory weighing heavy on you.

Simon bit the inside of his cheek. You were right, he had tuned out most of the shite those idiots said. Still, he felt at least a little bad about what you had to endure.

“‘suppose you’re right,” he hummed. A silence settled over you both, comfortable for a moment before a realization washed over you.

“You’re not— you won’t tell Soap and Gaz, right?” you asked, “Or anyone else who knew me for that matter. It’s not that I’m not out, I just—“

“You’re safe with me,” Simon affirmed, “‘have no reason nor desire to tell them anything they don’t need to know.” You let out a little sigh of relief, a small smile on your face.

“Right,” you smiled, swirling the drink in your hand, “Right. You’re— you’re not like that. I’m sorry, I just—“ He held up a hand, stopping your explanation. You closed your mouth, smiling a lopsided smile.

“You know, you’re alright Gh— Simon,” you corrected, “Makes me wish I would’ve drank with you more while I was still in the military.”

“Cheers to that,” he said, leaning his glass over. You happily clinked yours against his, taking a sip.

“Though, I can’t help but think you should have stayed,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Really?” you asked, “Why?”

"Well, if you wanted anything to medically transition, it, would've made your transition a whole lot faster, for one,” he said, “And two, it would’ve made it a lot cheaper.”

You snort at that, your voice taking on a joking tone, “You speaking from experience Simon?”

You raise your glass to your lips, expecting some sort of explanation. Something frantic, or maybe something blunt and honest. Instead, he got this look in his eyes and a smirk on his face. He raised his beer to his mouth, taking a sip. Though you didn’t want to admit it, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to understand what he meant. And when you did, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

“You’re fucking with me,” you said in disbelief. He shook his head, not saying a word. You sat in stunned silence for a long moment.

“Really?” you asked, “The— the whole time you were…” He nodded, letting you figure out your emotions. You leaned on the bar, resting your cheek in your hand as you stared at him long and hard.

“You truly are an enigma, Simon Riley,” you said.

“An enigma?” he laughed, “That’s one way to put it.” You just smiled and shook your head, looking down into your glass.

“I just, I can’t believe it,” you said, more to yourself than anything else.

A silence follows, unsaid words hanging in the balance. Simon bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes glancing over your form.

"Y'know, I wish you would've come talk to me before you left," he said, "you were a good recruit."

"Well--" you laugh, "Obviously, I had no clue until now. But even then I just--" You bite your lip,tapping your nails on the bar.

You finally forced your eyes to meet his, his gaze piercing through you, making you swallow hard.

"Can I be honest?" you asked.

"Of course," Simon said.

"You were...so scary. Like, incredibly so. Soap is like a puppy in human form, Gaz is a smooth talker, Price gives major dad energy and you--"

"--Are scary," he finished the statement. You stared at him before shaking your head.

"Were scary," you corrected, "Not so much... anymore."

"Oh yeah?" He asked, "And what makes it different now?"

"Well, for one, you can't make my life hell anymore," you laugh.

He chuckled at that, "That's what you think."

"And second of all," you smiled, "You're more... approachable."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You're not, the Ghost," you said, "you're... Simon." You pause, your gaze meeting his, a warm smile on your face, "I like Simon."

Simon felt his face flush. He cleared his throat, averting his gaze.

"Well...thank you," he said, "'s not often I hear that."

"You're welcome," you said, drinking the last of your drink. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sharing this moment. You pulled out your wallet, taking out your card and setting it on the bar.

"So," you said, your gaze not quite meeting his, "you doing anything else tonight?"

He smirked at that, taking a sip of his drink before asking, "You trying to take me home?"

You bite your lip, glancing from the bar and then to his gaze, "Is it working?"

He let out a bark of laughter, meeting your gaze for a moment before looking down at the last of his beer.

"It's not, not working," he said, finishing the last of his beer. He paid as well, the two of you heading towards the door. The two of you were silent for a moment a tension settling in the air.

"Were you serious about taking me home?" Simon asked suddenly.

You took a deep breath, saying, "Yeah, I was...Were you?"

He's silent for a moment, "Absolutely."

Tag list: @polteergeistt @minimiance

[thenerdyselfinsert]

How do we feel about trans ghost in the COD self insert community? I wanna gage the reaction before I do a thing....

trans ghost?

FUCK YEAH

Nah

show results

Voting ended onJul 22, 2025

[thenerdyselfinsert]

Simon Riley x Reader - Pool Hall

Headcannons about reader playing pool with Simon

Tags: Fluff, slice of life, headcannons

CW: N/A

Sorry friends, Simon plays to win.

If you're new to pool or never played it before, this man has no qualms about teasing you.

"Alright, good job. Now next time, try and hit one of the colored ones into the hole instead of the white one, yeah?" "You hit the eight ball in, that's game."

Laughs every time you accidentally scoop the ball instead of actually hitting it straight.

Gives you genuine praise if you manage to hit one of your own balls in.

After a while, he does take pity on you and helps you out in the end.

"Alright, what you wanna do is hit the ball right in the center. You keep aiming too low and that's why it keeps scooping."

If you're good at pool, Simon is a mad shit talker.

Like, Simon's pretty good at pool, but if you're somehow better than him?

He's conflicted.

On the one hand, he does not like losing...

But on the other hand, you being good at pool is kinda hot.

[daydreamingoveracupofcoffee]

Reaction of Dark Might (Valdo Gollini) to the fact that All Might has a secret lover:

Initial reaction: shock and disgust. Dark Might, as a creation obsessed with All Might’s legacy, would initially be shocked to learn that the Symbol of Peace, the paragon of heroism, has a secret lover. All Might’s public persona is one of unwavering dedication to heroism, with no room for personal attachments that could be perceived as weaknesses. To Dark Might, this revelation would feel like a betrayal of the idealized image he both worships and seeks to destroy. He might express disgust, viewing the lover as a distraction that taints All Might’s purity as a hero. His face might contort in a sneer, his exaggerated expressions mirroring All Might’s but laced with venom. He’d likely pace or loom menacingly, his body language radiating contempt.

“A lover? You, the Symbol of Peace, hiding something so… human? Pathetic. You’re no god—you’re just a man, clinging to weakness.”

Dark Might’s fixation on All Might borders on idolatrous, and the revelation of a secret lover could spark intense jealousy. He sees himself as the ultimate inheritor of All Might’s legacy, and the idea of someone else—especially a romantic partner—having a claim to All Might’s heart or attention would enrage him. This jealousy wouldn’t be romantic but rather possessive, as if All Might’s affection for another diminishes the significance of Dark Might’s existence. He might obsessively investigate the lover, digging into their identity to find flaws or reasons they’re “unworthy” of All Might. He could confront them directly, using intimidation to assert his dominance, or mock them in front of All Might to provoke a reaction.

“Who is this nobody, stealing what belongs to me? I am his shadow, his successor, his truth. No one else deserves him.”

Dark Might is cunning and manipulative. Upon learning about All Might’s lover, he’d likely see it as a vulnerability to exploit. He might devise a plan to use the lover as leverage, either by threatening their safety to emotionally destabilize All Might or by exposing the relationship to the public to tarnish All Might’s reputation. To Dark Might, this secret is a weapon to prove that All Might is not infallible.

He could abduct the lover, using them as a hostage to lure All Might into a trap. “Come face me, hero, or your precious secret dies screaming.”

He might broadcast the relationship to the world, framing it as All Might’s hypocrisy. “The Symbol of Peace, hiding a lover while the world burns? Behold your hero’s true face!”

His aim would be to break All Might emotionally, forcing him to confront his human limitations and proving that Dark Might’s nihilistic worldview—where power is all that matters—is superior.

Dark Might’s ideology revolves around power and legacy, rejecting the softer, human aspects of heroism that All Might embodies. The existence of a secret lover would fuel his belief that All Might’s compassion and connections make him weak. He’d likely taunt All Might, arguing that love is a liability that heroes can’t afford, reinforcing his own rejection of such emotions.

In a dramatic showdown, Dark Might might monologue about the futility of love in the face of power. “You think this lover makes you strong? It chains you, All Might. It drags you into the dirt with the rest of us.”

Deep down, there might be a flicker of envy for the human connection All Might has, something Dark Might, as a clone, can never truly experience. This could manifest as fleeting moments of hesitation or rage, quickly buried under his bravado.

When confronting All Might about the lover, Dark Might would be theatrical, reveling in the chance to unsettle his idol. He’d mimic All Might’s heroic mannerisms mockingly, perhaps adopting a distorted version of All Might’s signature smile while delivering cutting remarks. His tone would shift between sadistic glee and cold fury, depending on All Might’s reactions.

If All Might Defends the Lover: Dark Might would scoff, accusing All Might of prioritizing personal feelings over his duty. “You’d risk the world for one person? You’re no hero—you’re a fool.”

If All Might Stays Stoic: Dark Might might escalate, attacking the lover’s character or threatening them directly to provoke a response. “Silent, are we? Let’s see how quiet you are when I crush their heart.”

His obsession with exposing or harming the lover could drive the central conflict, forcing All Might and his allies to protect the secret while battling Dark Might’s forces.

The lover’s existence might force Dark Might to confront his own lack of humanity, creating a moment of vulnerability that All Might or the heroes could exploit.

If Dark Might harms the lover, it could galvanize All Might, tapping into his protective instincts and leading to a climactic showdown where All Might’s resolve overpowers Dark Might’s nihilism.

While Dark Might projects confidence and malice, his reaction would be underpinned by a sense of inferiority and existential despair. As a clone, he’s defined by his connection to All Might, yet he can never fully be him. The lover represents a part of All Might’s life that Dark Might can never touch—a reminder of his own incompleteness. This could make his reaction volatile, swinging between calculated cruelty and raw, unhinged anger.

The result would likely be a dramatic, high-stakes confrontation that tests All Might’s resolve and exposes the cracks in Dark Might’s psyche.

(P. S.: To be honest, it was the first time I saw this villain in TikTok. I'm disappointed with the film, as I expected more depth from this character and more interesting interactions with Midoriya and All Might...)

[thenerdyselfinsert]

Daddy Issues (Simon Riley x GN! Reader)

Word count: 624

CW: Discussion of parental neglect/abuse

Tags: Hurt Comfort, heavy on the comfort, gender neutral reader, established relationship, ooc Simon Riley (I think)

Not beta read, you have been warn

A/N: Hey guys, I just went through a situation and needed some comfort, so I whipped this up. I thought you guys might enjoy it too.

Simon knew something was wrong when he couldn't find you anywhere downstairs. Usually, ehen he walked througu the door you were up to something, whether that was cooking, or reading a book in the living room, or working on your laptop at the dining room table. But it was eerily silent on the first floor.

He checked outside again, thinking maybe you had just gone to the store or something, but your car was still there. *Strange*, he thought as he shut the door behind him.

Quietly, he made his way through the house, checking every little detail to make sure everything was in order. Nothing was out of its usual place, no broken picture frames or sign of a struggle. After clearing the first floor, he cautiously made his way upstairs. And that's when he heard it.

Though combat had made his hearing much worse, he could pick out your soft sobs from anywhere.

He made his way to your shared bedroom, quickly pushing open the door, “Love?”

There you were, wrapped in a blanket with tears streaming down your face. You were curled into a ball, wiping your nose with your sleeve as sobs escaped your lips. Your eyes darted up to meet his, tears staining your cheeks.

In an instant, he was by your side, his hands wiping tears from your cheek, “Are you okay? You're not hurt are you?”

“I'm— I'm not— I'm not hurt,” you managed to get out, before adding, “Not— not physically, anyways.”

Simon nodded, “Okay, what happened?”

You were silent for a long moment, tears welling in your eyes again.

“I talked to my dad today…”

Simon visibly tensed as you said those words. You and your dad really didn't see eye to eye on much, and despite that, you still really loved your dad, and you so badly wanted your dad to love you the same.

Though Simon could understand the deep longing for dad who really truly loves you, he saw red every time you brought him up. He saw a man who didn't deserve to have you as his kid, a man who would rather be right over being anything else. He hated your father so truly and deeply, and the thought that your dad made you cry again really got under his skin.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, trying to keep an even demeanor, “How'd that go?”

You sniffled a bitter laugh, saying, “About as good as you'd expect.”

That really made Simon's blood boil, and though he wanted to find your father and show him the consequences of his actions, one look from your watery eyes brought him back down to Earth.

No matter how much your dad deserved to get his ass beat, that would never bring you peace or justice. And Simon knew that.

So instead, he climbed into bed with you, pulling you against him so that you had a sturdy shoulder to cry on.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, “Not right now, no.”

He nodded, resting his chin on your head, “Then just— let me hold you a while, okay?”

You nodded scooting closer as you buried your face in his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He shook his head, “No need, sweetheart. Just…want to make sure you're okay.”

The two of you stayed like that for the longest time, with your face pressed against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you. And though this didn't fix the issues you were having with your dad, it reminded you that you didn't have to face them alone. Simon was always in your corner, both metaphorically and literally. And that in it of itself, was something to take comfort in.

[cogentsummoner]

how to woo your soulmate: chapter nine

pairing: villain!all might/reader rating: explicit tags: villain all might, soulmate au, slice of life/fluff, reluctantly falling in love, pov alternating, wet dream, masturbation word count: 2.5k summary:

Most people were happy with their soulmates. Sure, there were the odd few matches that simply didn’t work out, for one reason for another, but they were few and far between.

You, however… your soulmate was the Number One Villain in the country, who was intent on winning you over. After all- it’s fate, isn’t it?

chapter summary:

Yagi dreams of you, and the two of you have an important conversation about your relationship.

read on ao3 here!

taglist: @actuallysaiyan, @silvershadow1711, @duckywithahat, @crimsonflameproxy, @like-a-clock

[robertreich]

No Amazon. No Walmart. No Target. No Disney. No Google. No Apple. No Visa or Mastercard. And especially no Facebook. I will not be posting on Meta platforms for the next 24 hours in support of the economic blackout.

[cognitiveinequality]