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mimi-cee-genshin · 1 year

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Friend-zoned? - Alhaitham x f!reader

Summary: How many Akademiya guys does it take to figure out whether or not you've friend-zoned Alhaitham? After discussing how strong he is, Kaveh, Cyno and Tighnari analyze his relationship with you. Things get interesting when you join their table.

Other info: fluff and humor :D, female reader, my extension of the conversation in Alhaitham's character demo because I loved the guys' interactions there so much

Words: 2.7k

*****

"Essentially, more time on contemplation, less time on execution," Alhaitham tells them. "Simple, isn't it?"

"... Not really," Tighnari and Cyno reply.

"Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have brought this up with you," Kaveh complains.

"I thought my answer was quite engrossing," Alhaitham says. He raises his hand. "Boss, this is good wine. I'll have the same please."

Kaveh swirls his cup. "Well, he has at least one weakness," he comments.

"Do tell," Cyno says.

"He's had the same crush for years," Kaveh tells them. "The guy's completely smitten."

"You can't be serious," says Cyno.

"Why is that so surprising?" Alhaitham says. "It makes less sense that I wouldn't be attracted to her."

"See what I mean?" says Kaveh. "You should see how he is around her. He practically treats her like a queen."

"I have a hard time believing that," Cyno says, crossing his arms.

"Stop exaggerating," Alhaitham tells Kaveh. "I just treat her the way she should be treated."

Kaveh only laughs at his answer.

"I thought you didn't like social interaction," says Cyno. "Or had any friends for that matter."

"It's not tiring to be around her," he says. "She's different."

"Of course she is," says Kaveh.

"Well this is interesting," says Tighnari. "What is she like?"

"We've known each other since we were kids. She was mature for her age. She did things like helping me resolve issues I had with others to keep the peace, making sure other kids didn't bother me while I was reading… Also, comforting me whenever I got discouraged…"

"You? Discouraged?" Kaveh scoffs.

"Yes? I'm only human you know," Alhaitham simply replies. "Anyway, you get the picture."

"That seems reasonable," says Tighnari.

"So it's one-sided?" Cyno asks. "As far as I can tell, you're still single."

"No," says Alhaitham, crossing his arms. "It's not one-sided."

"You're kidding me, right?" Kaveh says. "Are we even talking about the same person?"

Tighnari raises a brow.

"Every time she introduces him to another woman, she's a little too obvious with sharing why they'd be good for Alhaitham," Kaveh explains, "as if she's trying to sell them off to him."

"Don't be so dramatic," Alhaitham says. "She's not selling anyone."

"If that's the case, then why are you sure she likes you?" asks Cyno.

"Well for one, she comes by often to check how I'm doing."

"Perhaps she simply thinks you're incompetent at your job," Kaveh chides.

"Two," he continues, ignoring him. "She's always willing to hear about the latest book I'm reading, no matter how boring others think of it."

"Hmm…" Tighnari mumbles. "I can understand that."

"And three…" Alhaitham puts down his cup. "Whenever she reaches out for my hand, like when she wants to comfort me, she stops short of actually holding it."

"She does?" asks Kaveh.

"Interesting. So it seems that while she does display some sort of affection for you," says Tighnari, "perhaps she just didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"So you're doubting my conclusion?"

"I'm simply saying it's difficult to judge based on the evidence you've provided. We may need to observe the two of you for ourselves."

Alhaitham sighs. This isn't going anywhere.

"Does she have any reason to not want to date you?" Cyno asks. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were overly critical of her, commenting on her every action."

"I give her nothing but compliments. She knows I think very highly of her."

"Huh," Tighnari says. "That's quite unexpected."

"I've been telling you guys," Kaveh says, "but he's really something else around her."

"Is she… actually older than you by any chance?" asks Tighnari.

"She is."

"Hmm… Well this changes things. Perhaps, she still sees you as a kid and is simply just doting on you."

Kaveh turns to Alhaitham, eagerly waiting for his reply.

Alhaitham clears his throat. "She's less than a couple of years older than me. It's not a big deal."

"Just admit that you're friend-zoned," says Kaveh. "Who'd treat their love interest like a kid?"

"I'm not so sure…" Cyno says.

Both Kaveh and Tighnari raise a brow.

"I think that Alhaitham has a clearer picture and can judge more accurately than any of us. They've known each other for long enough."

"It's just his wishful thinking on his part," says Kaveh. "Who wouldn't want to read into their crush's actions?"

"I agree to an extent," says Tighnari, "but perhaps we're missing some crucial information here. We don't know how well Alhaitham can judge a person's actions when romantic feelings are involved."

"I'm thinking quite clearly, thanks," Alhaitham says.

"This is why you aren't getting anywhere," Kaveh scolds him. "You're assuming she has feelings for you when she doesn't. You still need to win her over."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" Alhaitham crosses his arms.

"Ha. As if I'd help you. She could do way better than you anyway."

Alhaitham groans. Why is he even part of this conversation?

"Well, have you ever told her how you felt?" asks Cyno.

"Of course," replies Alhaitham. "I'm pretty obvious about it."

"For someone as reserved as you, I highly doubt that," Cyno adds.

"I wrote her a letter, eloquently expressing my love for her."

"Pfft. What?" Kaveh snorts.

Tighnari stares in disbelief. "Oh. I get it. You did that when you were children."

"I'm referring to the one I gave her yesterday."

"Pfft."

"That's… pretty obvious," Tighnari adds.

"I bet it was more of an essay than a love letter," Kaveh says with a smirk.

"Well, in that case, she either doesn't like you," says Tighnari, "or there's something that prevents her from admitting her feelings."

"Perhaps she's intimidated by your position," suggests Cyno.

"It's unlike her to care about those things," Alhaitham says. "She even treats me like a kid at times."

"So you do admit she just thinks of you as a kid," Kaveh says.

Alhaitham doesn't answer.

"Honestly, this case is closed," Kaveh continues. "There's nothing more to it."

"Hmm... Have you tried to make her jealous?" asks Cyno.

"You're still not convinced?" Kaveh is surprised at him.

"Knowing the result of that would likely draw us closer to a conclusion," Tighnari adds.

"Why would I purposely try to hurt her?" asks Alhaitham.

They exchange glances. Alhaitham still had the ability to make them go speechless with his matter-of-fact tone.

"Well, he's definitely serious about her," says Cyno.

"I told you," Kaveh says. "Seems like she's the only person he'd open up to as well."

"Of course she is," Alhaitham replies.

"I wonder…" says Tighnari. "Has she ever shared her own struggles with you?"

"Why would that be a factor?"

"Well, that would display how comfortable she is around you."

"Hmm… Not bad…" Alhaitham seems to agree with his line of reasoning.

He goes quiet and uncomfortably so because the other three exchange awkward glances at each other in the meantime.

"Well?" Cyno breaks the silence.

"You may be right," Alhaitham tells Tighnari with a sigh. "But that certainly raises more questions."

"Can we just start playing Genius Invokation TCG?" asks Kaveh. "We just keep going in circles with this topic."

"So you guys did just drag me out to play cards," says Alhaitham.

"It would be interesting to meet her," says Tighnari. "It's gotten me curious."

"Same here," says Cyno.

Kaveh looks up at the tavern entrance. "Huh? She's actually here."

Alhaitham's eyes flicker open for a brief moment. "Nice try. I'm not falling for that."

"I didn't expect to see you here, Alhaitham," you say, ruffling his hair.

He freezes and the three of them take a closer look at his face.

"I never expected him to have that kind of expression," whispers Tighnari.

"Me neither," Cyno agrees.

Alhaitham clears his throat. "They simply invited me here for some cards," he tells you. "Nothing more."

"Can I join?" you ask.

Without question, Alhaitham gets up from his chair. He holds the back of his seat and slides it out, gesturing for you to take it.

Cyno and Tighnari widen their eyes.

"Is it just me or did that feel kind of odd?" says Tighnari.

"Coming from him? You're not wrong there," adds Cyno.

You hesitate for a moment before you accept his kindness and take his seat. He stands next to you, waiting for the other guys to start preparing the game.

The two onlookers feel slightly uncomfortable for some reason while Kaveh tells them another round of 'I-told-you-so's. There isn't anything out of the ordinary as you all take your turns playing each other. Cyno is intense as usual, not just with his tactics but also with how he approaches the battle like an interrogation. Tighnari was calm and collected even under pressure, and Kaveh spoke his mind with every move, regardless of whether it's his or his opponent's. But having you there with Alhaitham is… strange.

Nothing really happens of significance. The two of you treat each other well and with respect. Just having Alhaitham being a complete gentleman around you is unnerving for the rest of them. Curt responses and sarcastic remarks are absent. He's completely agreeable with you and his usual temper isn't there either. Everyone plays the game in peace.

"You should save that card for later," Alhaitham tells you. "He can't do anything for the rest of the round anyway."

"Hmm… I'm not quite sure if that's what I want to do yet," you respond.

"Alright," he says. "You should do what you think is best."

"This guy…" Kaveh turns to you. "How do you get him to be like that? If it were any of us, he would've scolded us with a lengthy explanation about how we'd lose if we didn't follow his exact instructions."

"What? She can think for herself."

"And none of us can't?"

"I'm already familiar with how the three of you play and where you go wrong. I want to see if she does anything differently."

"It seems that he really does only compliment you, huh?" Tighnari tells you.

"Why would I do otherwise?" Alhaitham states.

His straightforward remark stuns them once again.

"Okay, we get it," says Kaveh. "We all know about your huge crush on her."

"Seems like you can't say anything bad about her even if you try," Cyno comments.

"Of course I can."

"You can?" you ask.

The whole table looks at you funny. You fiddle with the cards in your hand, pretending you weren't shocked for a split second.

"Interesting," says Cyno.

Alhaitham crosses his arms. "What is it?"

"I'm keeping my observations to myself for now."

Alhaitham raises a brow, but lets it go for the meantime.

A few rounds go by and you help set up for the next. When Alhaitham picks up a die for you from the floor, your hand brushes against his and the die falls off the table once more.

"What's wrong?" Alhaitham asks as he picks up the die again. "You're not usually this clumsy."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with me," you say.

He takes a closer look at you and you avoid his eyes. "Alright," he says. "You still ready to play?"

"I'll need to head out soon," Tighnari says. "It's my turn to be on patrol for tonight."

"Hold on," Cyno says, placing his cards on the table. "One last round. I'll be your opponent this time," he tells you.

You finish setting up the game and test your skills against Cyno. He certainly doesn't make it easy for you. You fall behind pretty quickly, but at least he's not as intimidating as when he played with some of the others.

"So," Cyno says, "what do you think of Alhaitham?"

Your eyes widen at his sudden question.

"You're straight up asking her?" says Kaveh.

"Why not?"

"I guess he has a point," says Tighnari.

They turn their attention to you to see what you'd say.

"Well…" you say, "he's very intelligent and talented."

"No, not what everyone else says," says Cyno. "What you think."

"What do you think you're doing?" asks Alhaitham. "Are you interrogating her right now?"

"Just let her answer the question."

"Well…" you say, "he's nice? And sweet?"

Cyno raises a brow.

"He's cute?"

"Pfft." Kaveh holds in his laughter.

Cyno ignores him and presses the question.

"I don't know how to respond," you tell him. "We've known each other for so long I can't just sum it up in a sentence."

"Alright. I'll get straight to the point," says Cyno. "What do you think of Alhaitham's feelings for you?"

"I think he should get to know other people… and try dating someone else?"

"See?" says Kaveh.

"I've already told you I'm not interested in anyone else," Alhaitham says.

"No, you should listen to her answer," Cyno tells him. "She's not lying."

"What?" Alhaitham widens his eyes.

"I'm not done yet," says Cyno. "There's more." He turns to you. "How serious do you think Alhaitham is about you?"

"He's definitely sincere."

"I'm pretty sure that was obvious," says Tighnari.

"But you don't take his feelings seriously," Cyno tells you.

"It's not that. It's just…"

"You don't?" asks Alhaitham.

"Alright. It's your turn from here," Cyno tells him.

"But I thought I was clear," Alhaitham tells you.

"You were."

"Apparently not clear enough."

"Look. You used to follow me around like a duckling whenever you weren't reading a book," you tell him. "How was I supposed to take your crush on me seriously?"

"It's been more than a decade since then."

"I... Okay, fair enough," you concede. "But it would disappear once you learned I didn't live up to your expectations."

"What expectations?" Alhaitham raises his brow.

"I don't know. That I'm this perfect woman that you've been pining for more than half your life. You'd know I'm not so great if you'd actually try liking someone else."

"Is that what you've been telling yourself?"

"You never say anything bad about me."

"Why would I want to talk about your flaws? Especially when I've been trying to win you over," he says. "Besides, aren't they obvious to you?"

"What?" You're genuinely surprised. "Like what?"

"Like how stupid you're being right now."

You freeze.

"Besides, I've been around you long enough," Alhaitham continues. "There's plenty I don't like. Like the way you cut me off at times–"

"What?"

"–or your atrocious style–"

"Okay, that one hurt a bit–"

"–or how stupid do you have to be to keep asking Kaveh for money –"

"Alright. I get it."

"–or that time you–"

"Okay! I get it! You like me!"

Kaveh looks at you as if you've grown another head. "How did you come to that conclusion? Are we even listening to the same conversation?"

"I think she's finally realized that his feelings were deeper than she initially thought," says Tighnari. "Especially since she knows that Alhaitham is still objective with her and not blinded with infatuation."

"That's right," Cyno says. "She's been the exception to his behavior for a long time. It makes sense she would think his judgment would be clouded with the information she had."

You hide your face from them. It's embarrassing how they read you like a book once your guard was down.

"I didn't expect the solution to be so simple," Alhaitham says.

He slips his hand into yours and you let out a little squeak. "You've also been wanting to hold my hand for some time haven't you?"

"Ugh. You're all smug now because you know that I return your feelings."

"I also don't like how you rearranged my bookcase."

"You can stop now."

"I think it's time for us to go," says Cyno.

"But we haven't finished our match yet," you tell him.

"I'll just forfeit this one."

"I'm with you on that," says Kaveh. "Anything before they start being gross with each other."

"I guess this is a good time for me to head out as well," says Tighnari.

The two of you are suddenly left alone at the table with a bunch of dice in front of you.

"Well, that's one way to win a match," Alhaitham tells you. "I'd say it's pretty ingenious actually."

You simply groan. You know what's coming.

"Do you want me to help you win every time?"

"Please don't."

*****

I hope you liked it. :)

This is one of those fics I wish had inline commenting like on Wattpad. I would've loved to see how everyone reacted at certain parts in real time but unfortunately Tumblr doesn't have that.

Anyway, you can find links to my masterlist and taglist on my pinned post if you want to check out more of my writing.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fluff #cyno #tighnari #kaveh

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cringecannon · 8 months

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Your Gortash writing is excellent! Here's an idea: if Tav was an artificer Gortash would be their biggest simp (after all, he did create the Steel Watch, so he's got some artificer vibes), and would use any opportunity to flirt while talking shop.

Oh this is so cute.

His schedule is much more packed with ruling the city, so he needs to outsource the mechanical work to someone else. He's heard your name thrown around in artificer circles, and commissions you to be the head of production. It's a vague title and usually amounts to nothing more than overseeing the Steel Watch Factory. You're also expected to come up with new versions of the watchmen, suggesting improvements and general bug fixes. That's where Gortash comes in.

No matter how much he steps back from the actual dirty work, he still oversees every single change to the formula. At first, he rejects every idea you send his way. You'd have to demand an in-person meeting for anything to happen. Deciding to humor you. He saunters into your office, ready to lord his experience over you. He's more than a bit shocked when instead of groveling, you have every rejected proposal in a neat stack on your desk and you go through them, one by one. You tear apart his design flaws as easily as if you were discussing the weather. You also tear him apart for not even bothering to read your suggestions, because if he did? He'd know you were right.

Gortash should be angry. If anyone else had spoken to him like that, he'd have them thrown out. He wants to be angry, but he's just flustered. Completely hot under the collar as he stiffens. More than a little disgusted with himself, he realizes what the problem is- he's impressed.

Not that he'd ever explicitly tell you that. He commends you for your backbone and tells you to implement your ideas immediately. As he stands and waits a moment at the door, he tenses when instead of a thank you, you simply ask if he needs something. The absolute nerve of you. He narrows his eyes and stalks out, closing the door a little too loudly behind him.

He wants to ignore you, but he can't help visiting more often. The first meeting made him feel like a blushing schoolboy, so for his own pride he feels the need to come back and fluster you instead. That's what he tells himself, anyway. Admitting he just enjoys your company is impossible.

He tries to show off his technological prowess, but you meet him at every attempt. Heated arguments about superior tools and welding methods turn into thinly veiled innuendos about how good with your hands you both are. Seeing you bent over, waist deep inside a watchman does something to him. So does your oil-smudged face smiling at him whenever he drops into your office. He'd deny it if anyone asked, but it's clear he's grown to like you. Lucky for Gortash, you like him too.

#enver gortash x reader #.bg3 #.enver gortash

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stromuprisahat · 3 months

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Remind me again, why is ~he~ here?!

Siege and Storm- Chapter 9

It's not a team effort, Malyen. Army won't judge you as a couple.

Macho lowly otkazat'sya doesn't get to strike (again).

Please do!

This would work as much more powerful statement, if Mal were genuinely concerned for Alina's well-being and her OWN choice, instead of being pissed he's the one, who called dibs on her.

*whispers* That's exactly what's he gonna do...

For allowing you to keep breathing?!

Yeah, me too...

There's nothing more pathetic than an insecure man shouting.

Perhaps maybe insecure man deciding for "their" woman.

A minute of silence for an alternative universe, where Nikolai isn't so unreasonably accommodating, and has actual guards stationed at door, so they rush in after hearing shouting. They see a deserter attacking their Tsarevich, so they step in...

Is acting like a mindless animal supposed to make him look attractive?!

HoW DaRe You fLiRt WiTh My aCcEsSoRy?!

Because seriously- what's his problem here?!

Really?!

That's what's bothering you, Alina?!

I know Alina has some serious issues regarding self-worth, but I'd be more concerned about him acting as if she were his property, and anyone even suggesting she might have different role in the world deserves to be beaten by fists (because control is overrated and true men make a pub brawl out of anything)...

You're supposed to sit by hearth and warm my soup!

Sorry Malaria, but Alina IS THE Sun Summoner, want it or not. You can't just keep ignoring it and hoping she'll just slip into your shadow AGAIN. ... wait... *war flashbacks from Cofton* At least not as long as there are people capable of finding her and dragging her back into the story.

How can you be so SELFISH, Alina?! What about his soup?!

Just when the heroine moves to assume at least ~some~ responsibility (although for different reasons than you'd expect), she's promptly shamed for not thinking about Maaal for one (1) second... I love how he uses position of honour as an insult, because he's the one with full ownership of a public figure.

I know I'm apparently too demanding, but shouldn't he be overjoyed he didn't get shot on the spot yet? And no one seems too concerned about his desertion...

But hey- gf not discussing her decision to stop hiding from expectations placed upon her is obviously the more pressing matter.

Y'no. if his objection was that she completely forgot to negotiate change of his status in First Army with Nikolai (DESER*gunshot*), I'd cheer and fully support him, but his position in her love life and bedroom is apparently more pressing matter.

Also a huge fan of body language here.

What could crossed arms mean in body language? Rude, angry and insecure?! Sounds about right...

Ordinary deserter ORDERS a Prince and Major of the very same Army he fled...?

Yeah, Alina!

Mal wants his sickly housewife back!

Y'no, I wanted to note how quickly Malyen changed his mind about coming back, but then I re-read the end of previous book to be sure, and it's always been Alina. He wanted to get out, get rid of her amplifier and live his happy life in obscurity consequences be damned:

Shadow and Bone- After

His girl refuses to get rid of all of the stuff that makes her different, so he just has to settle for her fancy clothes...

Wow!

Supportive boyfriend here!

But hey- admitting she IS strong would mean giving up his dreams of watching her trudging after him.

He doesn't even have any idea what the Darkling can or cannot do! It's not some sort of professional opinion!

This one's kinda funny in a way- Alina had very similar thought about him and volcra a chapter earlier...

Siege and Storm- Chapter 8

... ashamed ... given up EVERYTHING to be WITH ME ... Don't tell me, Malyen's so blind he never notices what his (rather pointed) remarks do to Alina?!

I thought we both wanted to help Ravka.

No, Alina. He never did. We've been both wrong. He cares only about himself and his ownership of a small, inconsequential you.

This could offer an interesting view into a mind of a soldier so alienated from his country that offers him zero promises for the future, he cares for nothing... if he weren't such an inconsiderate dick to Alina...

Love this aspect of their relationship! SO empowering!

Like... He'd need to be extremely dull, if I wanted to interpret this as anything but clear fucking MANIPULATION. This is psychological blackmailing 101!

And he's supposed to be the supportive boyfriend SOMEHOW...

#Grishaverse #Siege and Storm #S&S Chapter 9 #grishanalyticritical #Malyen Oretsev #Alina Starkov #Zlatá Malina #Nikolai Lantsov #S&B After #S&S Chapter 8 #V #Grisha trilogy #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo #anti Mal #anti Malina #anti Leigh Bardugo

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andreal831 · 2 months

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Do you think that Hayley/Elijah/Jackson could’ve potentially worked as a throuple? 👀

I actually laughed when I read this question. Not because I think it would be impossible but because I think it would be absolutely wild. Maybe if the show was being run by more interesting people we could have had a storyline like this. It would make sense.

I mean on one hand, we have Hayley and Elijah who are in love and on the other hand we have a forced marriage. If anyone was going to have a throuple, they were primed for it. I have said it before but I don't believe the unification magic is so aware that Hayley and Elijah couldn't have stayed in a relationship. Also, no one proposed the idea of a throuple. I feel like that would have worked for the magic aspect of it.

If it did work, Hayley would have had to be the one to introduce it, and you know she would have. Hayley, especially at that time, was definitely a 'have your cake and eat it too' kind of person. And that is not a critique on her. She knew what she wanted and she went for it. So why not bring up the idea to the men.

Elijah would have been on board. He had been pinning after Hayley for like two years at that point and would have jumped at the opportunity to be with her in any way possible. He also has lived so long that I don't think it would have been strange to him. I joke that I love jealous Elijah but we really didn't get many scenes where he was obviously jealous. I feel like he was just, essentially, too old for that teen drama. So it wouldn't have bothered him that Hayley was also with Jackson. Especially because it would mean he got to be with her as well. Jackson would have been resistant for a variety of reasons. I can see him saying "That's not how we do things." But there definitely was a power imbalance there so I could see him caving and agreeing, but resenting it. So not a healthy throuple.

However, overtime, I could see Jackson and Elijah finding common ground. People love to say the men are so different, but they really aren't. They just wear different clothes. Jackson is more like a Mikaelson than he or the fandom want to admit. Jackson treats his pack similar to how the Mikaelsons treat their family. I think this is something Elijah and he could bond over. They've both had to make tough decisions, even bad decisions, in order to protect the ones they love. They've both also messed up a lot. They also both cared for Hayley and Hope which would likely be the first common ground they could come to.

I also love to think over time, given the chance, Elijah and Jackson would become friends. I can just see Jackson talking about hunting or some nature thing and Elijah just casually asking questions, trying to pretend he's not that interested. We view Elijah as an uptight business man, but let's not forget he was originally a farmer/warrior from what is present day Virginia. Elijah is a country boy. I would love a scene where Jackson is surprised by Elijah's knowledge of farming or hunting and then Hayley walks into an intense discussion about crop yields or the best way to skin a deer.

To me, it wouldn't ever be a true throuple, it would more likely be an open relationship. I just never got queer vibes from Jackson, but who knows. But if the show had focused more on character development and family, and less on drama, we may have actually seen a begrudging friendship and mutual respect from the two men. And Hayley would have truly benefited from that. But we all know how little Julie likes to let women have control over their relationships.

Thanks for the ask! These are always so fun for me.

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yntaro · 1 year

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Let’s talk about Romance Mangas!

My say to those I have read and loved: (not ranked)

1. This Manga hurts my heart. I read it while on high school and it kinda hit me with how lonely I am because I never had an Ayane-chan and Chizuru-chan, and Kazehaya-kun to downright change my life to better. But I did enjoy those time because I had romance manga to begin with. Kimi Ni Todoke might be the one that get me into read romance mangas. I liked it because I somewhat relate to Sawako, being outcasted and all. I grew to love their story, and found myself hoping that maybe love will come to me too.

Kimi Ni Todoke (From Me to You)

2. In this spin off featuring Kurumizawa Ume (a character from Kimi Ni Todoke) and Sawako’s cousin Eiji Akahoshi, my hope for meeting love blooms even greater. They were soulmates as the title suggests so they were literally speed, but then I haven’t read the latest chapters yet because I can’t find them (if anyone know, pls let me know). As I was saying, they literally skipped the slow burn but still works because we can now root for the former second leads. (Yes, Eiji is from another romance manga from the same author: Crazy for Love)

Kimi Ni Todoke: Soulmate

3. What do you do when you accidentally married a man twice your age?? Some may not want age gap romance, especially when the age gap is 20 years, but you might change your mind reading this manga. It’s wholesome and you can actually find yourself smiling and rooting for their relationship to work. This manga has been going on the internet, it’s popular so you may had heard of it, it’s where I heard of it, so I think I don’t have to had any say except I enjoyed it and I am finding or accepting manga recs similar to this.

Gomashio to Pudding (Sesame Salt and Pudding)

4. WHOLESOME IS THE WORD. This manga is fresh breath of air. I’m pretty sure most of you guys have heard of it as it’s one of this month’s anime. I just love how cute they are in each chapter, even the other couples. And I thoroughly enjoy Himuro’s monologue. :)) If you guys were bothered by random pacings, you should watch the anime instead. They swept up the plot.

Koori Zokusei Danshi to Cool na Douryou Joshi (The Ice Guy and His Cool Female Colleague)

5. Wahhhh this is really addictive, I can’t stop myself from thinking that the whole time I am reading. A combination of slice of life, comedy, and romance genre, huh. Who knows it will all work beautifully as in this masterpiece. (Also, Sousuke Shima’s character design reminds me a bit of Miura Kento from Kimi Ni Todoke)

Skip and Loafer

6. HOT. I have no other words. Some may misunderstand though. But it’s what I think of it, like will you look at them!!! They’re attacking me. I hope we got to see how their relationship progress soon. Btw, I’m all in for Ichi, I’m sorry dear Oji.

Uruwashi no Yoi no Tsuki (In the Clear Moonlit Dusk)

Aaaand I just rumbled my thoughts on the last part. I may edit it for a more serious discussion later. Thanks! :)))

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palajae · 1 year

Text

misfit. | ksw

PAIRING ▸ hufflepuff! sunoo x slytherin! reader

GENRE ▸ hogwarts! au, s2ls, romance, angst, fluff, humor

SUMMARY ▸ you swear your new seatmate in potions gets on your last nerve. everything about him just irks you. you swear kim sunoo will be the death of you, whether you like it or not (and maybe you do).

WORD COUNT ▸ 3.7k

AKA all’s fair in love and war.

NOTES ▸ mentions of food, reader is just trying to live their life, also reader is kinda a jerk, not proofread ???

part of the charms and chasers miniseries.

“YOU GUYS ARE GETTING NEW SEATMATES THIS YEAR!”

your professor chirps excitedly, completely ignoring the groans and complaints emitting from all the students.

you, on the other hand, could care less. potions was always a boring class, and that meant an extra nap period for you. your professor couldn’t even say anything either, as you usually scored high marks on her tests.

whoever your seatmate and partner for schoolwork activities was, you were sure you wouldn’t care. as long as they minded their own business and you yours, everything would be fine.

or so you thought.

you hear your name being called out and you look up expectantly.

“you’re next to kim sunoo!”

a few whispers break out but you ignore them. the name sounded quite familiar to you, yet you couldn’t place a face to it. slowly, your eyes travel around the room to finally land on a shy looking boy, decked out in a yellow and gray sweater.

kim sunoo—the hufflepuff—that’s right.

shrugging, you make your way over to your new desk and seatmate. you’re not sure what to think about the sudden bright smile sent your way, along with a chirpy

“nice to meet you, i’m kim sunoo!”

turns out, kim sunoo—the hufflepuff—is not nearly who he seems to be. on the second day of having new seats, you find out more about sunoo that you would’ve originally liked.

first thing was, he mutters to himself.

in the beginning you thought you were hallucinating or dreaming it. but no, as you observed over the course of that first week, sunoo would talk to himself under his breath. you didn’t know or care about what he was saying, but it didn’t help to make your designated nap period any better.

once you did find out, however, what he said? discussed? to himself, you only furrowed your eyes in disbelief. and made a mental note to bring ear plugs the next day- since you were the only one able to hear him due to the proximity. of course, it was just loud enough for you to hear and not anyone else.

sunoo would literally mutter about anything: his plans for the rest of the day, thought process while working out a problem, even giving himself encouragement for crying out loud. nothing wrong with that, but when you just wanted peace and quiet, the more and more he got on your nerves.

secondly, he taps on your shoulder. a little too much for comfort.

obviously the action itself didn’t bother you- wait no, you take that back- sunoo tapping on your shoulder and the interaction that proceeded after made you bite your cheek in annoyance.

sunoo softly pokes your shoulder, waking you right as you were about to drift off. it’s like he knew exactly when you were ask close to falling asleep and decided to burst that bubble.

it’s always some random, obscure question about class content that you tell him the answer in literally a second before returning to your comfortable position and praying he doesn’t wake (read: bother) you again.

number three: kim sunoo actually tries to be friends with you.

at least, you assume he is. sunoo wouldn’t “annoy” you as much as he was unless he was trying to be your friend, right? asking about your day, your favorite class, your sleep schedule (note to self- sunoo was either a great observer or you were extremely obvious- and the answer was probably the latter).

you had nothing against your seatmate. nothing personal, at least. but potions was always your free clsss and now it suddenly wasn’t. those simple three observations about sunoo weren’t even the main reason why you were so annoyed by kim sunoo’s presence.

but it was. it was all because of kim sunoo and kim sunoo entirely.

it was all because of his bright personality that attracted anyone and everyone to your table in the morning. people would stop by his desk on the way to their own, every single day without fail. it wouldn’t bother you if they weren’t so irritating- the way they chattered and laughed so obnoxiously.

since when was kim sunoo so popular? and why did he have to be so popular?

you voiced all of this and unfortunately for your friends, they had to be on the receiving end of your daily frustration- mainly due to your lack of confrontation skills and willingness to bottle things up until they explode.

“i just don’t get it. why can’t they talk somewhere else? why does it have to be right in front of me? why can’t sunoo-“

ningning interrupts you while taking a big bite of her sandwich, “you know, this is the first time you’ve ever talked about someone so much, and the fact that it’s kim sunoo of all people?”

yuna nods in agreement.

“same. i’m shocked.”

your chewing slows.

“what kind of response is that, guys?” you whine, gripping the utensil in your hands tighter. last time you peeked over to hufflepuff’s table where sunoo was, you saw a crowd sitting around him. needless to say, you weren’t surprised one bit.

“okay, okay. it’s simple, just tell him.”

your lips press into a thin line. ningning nods encouragingly, “if you’re that bothered, just let him know and i bet he’ll stop. from what i’ve heard, he’s super nice.”

you huff, “yeah and then what? i’ll just seem like the jerk slytherin complaining about the nice and popular hufflepuff.”

they exchange looks as you sink further into your seat.

“did you see niki on the field yesterday? he was so cool…“

the boy rolls his eyes playfully, “i wouldn’t call niki cool but-“

you roll your eyes for the nth time, desperately trying to (indiscreetly) plug your ears from the conversation half a foot away from you. again, you shouldn’t have been surprised sunoo was better friends with some people from your house than you were.

“don’t worry, you’ll pass the next test!”

“hey, you can always come sit with me at lunch!”

“-i think you’re way smarter than she is.”

kim sunoo was too warm and optimistic for his own good. luckily for you, your professor calls everyone to their desks so you could finally have a moment of peace and quiet.

the moment she says “group work,” you rub a hand over your face. originally, you set a rule at the beginning of the school year. split the work up half and half, simple and effective. that’s how you would do it, disregarding the uncertain look on sunoo’s face when you brought up said rule and the silence that would fall upon your table when working (and only your table).

but sunoo seemed set on breaking that today.

occasionally he would reach over, flashing you his bright eyes and hesitant smile while asking for help. then you would internally sigh before helping him- which meant you giving him your paper to copy and vice versa. at least he was adequate at potions, you gave him that.

but perhaps you didn’t think about how you appeared to treat sunoo. even if you didn’t think he was that bad (disregarding the daily complaints to your friends), that’s not how exactly it seemed to others.

it was the middle of fall, and you had just walked into class, a dark scarf wrapped around most of your face. at first you didn’t think much of the people at your and sunoo’s desk- it was something you had kinda gotten accustomed to- although that didn’t mean you were any more okay with their presence.

but when you get close enough to hear their words, you stop straight in your tracks.

“-seriously, what’s with your seatmate? do they always have to make that grumpy face everyday they come in?”

“yeah, like what did they even do to you sunoo? it’s like they just got their ears screamed off by a mandrake literally all the time.”

you’re not sure what to do, feet awkwardly stopped in their position and body still frozen.

but you hear blood rushing in your ears at what comes next.

“hey guys, let’s not assume anything. seriously, y/n isn’t all that bad. we don’t know what’s going on with them so there’s no need to get upset over it. thank you for worrying about me, but i’m perfectly fine with them. really.”

guilt washes over you. is that how everyone else saw you? some brooding kid being rude for no reason to sunoo- the kind and positive student who was willing to help anyone out at any time?

you understand why sunoo is as popular as he is.

and so you take a deep breath, sit down at your desk, and turn to kim sunoo.

“how was your day?” you attempt your best smile but it comes out a little too forced and the corner of your mouth twitches.

three pairs of astonished eyes stare at you.

from then on, you try your best to be nicer to your classmate. now when he asks for help, or even a simple question of how you were feeling, you take a deep breath in and answer with more patience. not a short, blunt one word response.

you hide a smile at the surprised expression on his face the first few times you actually talk back to him. conversation actually happens. sunoo is a bit cheery compared to what you’re accustomed to, but it’s not… horrible?

even to point where you feel your relationship has turned into almost a friendship. at least something better than strangers.

the next day, sunoo sends you his typical cheery smile as you nod in response. for a little while now, you’ve been having more energy in potions class- and wondering why.

“alright students, you guys have a group project assigned! please work with your deskmate to complete it…”

your professor drones on as your eyes flick to the boy sitting next to you. a group project with sunoo?

he laughs hesitantly once you lock gazes, “did you want to split the work like we norm-“

“are you free later to work in the library?”

your sudden interjection makes his eyes widen. a moment of silence falls upon your table and you avoid his gaze, crossing your arms and clearing your throat.

“t-together?” he manages to get out and you nod.

“we can…” your voice comes out a little more quietly than you expected.

sunoo blinks a couple of times before a cute smile settles on his face and he agrees.

“you’re really good at potions, i’m honestly really jealous. you get the best grades without even studying.”

flustered, you awkwardly deny his remarks. if you thought there would be any awkwardness between you two when you were working in the library together, you thought completely wrong.

sunoo left no room for any awkward silence or accidental speaking over each other.

“but how do you remember which way to stir each potion? i always forget since there are so many to memorize.”

for the first time, sunoo sees you straighten up, suddenly invested in explaining. he can’t help but get lost in the way you talk so eagerly, hands gesturing animatedly. you must be really interested in potions, he notes.

as you finish up your parts for the day, sunoo sighs with a content shake of his head.

“man, i’ll have to work extra hard on this project so we’ll get a good grade. you’re a really good teacher, y/n.”

you smile and sunoo pauses at that.

“thanks, sunoo.”

later at lunch, your calm silence scares your friends. you sip your water, looking completely unbothered. since when did you stop your daily complaint about kim sunoo in potions class?

“hey y/n,” yuna starts off cautiously, “how was potions?”

you shrug, “fine.”

ningning and yuna exchange concerned looks.

“potions class?” she repeats, “was fine?”

you glance questioningly at the both of them facing you, “did i say something wrong?”

the two words, the name, hang unresolved in the air.

“what happened to your daily sunoo rant?” yuna’s eyes widen for emphasis and ningning nods enthusiastically.

“the whole sunoo’s so annoying, i strongly dislike potions now, i want a new seat mate agenda?”

“i never said that!” you protest and they roll their eyes.

“close enough.”

you shrug disinterestedly. “i mean, i guess it’s gotten better. sunoo’s fine.”

“fine?!”

they repeat incredulously and you hastily shush them, shooting apologetic looks to your surrounding housemates.

it doesn’t take long for them to figure out, however. you hadn’t even sat down in charms when yuna essentially ambushes you.

“you hung out with sunoo at the library?”

your rigid figure at her outburst relaxes, only to stiffen again.

“what? who told you that? and we didn’t hang out, we were-“

she gasps dramatically, catching the attention of others nearby. “so you were with him?”

you hiss for her to be quiet, before you place two hands on yuna’s shoulders.

with a serious look, you calmly reply with, “i don’t know who in merlin’s beard saw, but we were working on a group project. that’s it.”

she promptly ignores you, muttering to herself with a hand on her chin. “that’s why you didn’t complain about him at lunch the other day, why you didn’t seem as grumpy and-“

“hey! that’s not entirely true,” you protest while sending her one last exasperated look before the professor comes in and shushes the class.

and as much as you began to become friends with sunoo and enjoy his presence, you couldn’t escape it- the whispers that would follow you in the hallways.

kim sunoo with y/l/n y/n?

were they dating?

your friends couldn’t help but tease you regardless. all you could do was attempt (and fail) to keep your cool while denying everything.

you found sunoo to be a nice classmate. polite, respectful, any positive related adjective could be attributed to sunoo. in fact, sunoo was rather charming.

“how was your exam yesterday?”

your eyebrows furrow, “exam?”

“yeah, you mentioned a herbology exam yesterday.”

you didn’t remember mentioning it to sunoo, but apparently he did- and he had a much better memory than you did. or he just cared that much about you, which you almost laughed at the thought.

“oh, well, it was fine. or at least, i think so?”

“i bet you did great!”

he sends you an encouraging smile, which you can only hold for a second before looking away. although you can’t see it, he holds back a laugh at your reaction.

ever since people began teasing you, you couldn’t help but keep their words in mind every time you saw sunoo.

you couldn’t help but question, did you like sunoo?

there’s no way. and there was no way he liked you back.

after all, kim sunoo was simply nice to everyone. it was just in his nature. asking you about your day everyday and remembering even the smallest details about you didn’t mean anything, you constantly reminded yourself that.

the rest of the period goes by in a flash, mainly since you decided to sleep through most of it. you pack up your stuff, debating whether to go to the great hall to eat or just find some place to study before you failed your next quiz.

“bye, y/n.”

surprised, you glance up to see sunoo giving you a chiding look while shaking a pointed finger, “don’t skip so many meals! it’s not good for you.”

with that, he takes his leave while you sit there, dumbfounded at the way your heart pounded at his words.

how did he know? it’s like he read your mind or something, and it wasn’t the first time either.

yesterday you literally dragged your feet to your seat and face planted onto the desk. while you pretty much stayed in that position the whole period, you only got up when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

sunoo’s concerned face came into view as he lowered himself to whisper to you. unconsciously, your breath hitched as his face came closer.

“professor told me to wake you up, but i put the cauldron in front to block you so she can’t see. it’s okay, just go back to sleep,” he urged gently.

half-awake and half wondering if you were in a dream or not, you obediently and gladly followed his orders until class was over. the sound of students shuffling out automatically woke you up. it was something you had gotten accustomed to (and proud of) after years of practice.

but while packing up your books, you notice a note left on the table. it read,

next time, don’t stay up too late! it’s not good for you >:(

and signed -s with a smiley face. at first, still in your sleepy daze, it took you a couple of seconds to connect the pieces. it was obviously sunoo who left that message, but why?

why was he being so nice to you and making you question your feelings?

why was he ending up on your mind a lot more than you’d like?

you decide to take the initiative for a change.

spotting sunoo studying alone, underneath a tree in the shade, you muster the courage to approach him.

he looks focused, lips mouthing silent words to himself as he stares at the text in front of him.

you open your mouth, then hesitate, then open it again.

“are you… struggling?”

surprised, sunoo jolts in his spot as you hide a smile. immediately after though, he scoots over for you to sit next to him.

“y-yeah, how did you know?” he says sheepishly.

you shrug carelessly, “you always talk to yourself when you don’t understand.”

his eyebrows raise at that, slight smile forming. “really? me?”

you nod, suddenly shy and deciding to cross your arms. “anyways, i might be able to help. if,” you pause, “if you want.”

he eagerly accepts and you take a look at his notes. as you begin explaining, the distance between you two lessens significantly. at some point, you can’t ignore the tingling sensation from the touch of his leg on yours.

“s-so,” you begin to stutter, indiscreetly trying to shift positions, “the invention of the-the battery in muggle, society, is u-uh,”

“are you okay?” sunoo asks softly and you nod immediately. you try your best to seem unaffected, but the laugh he can’t help but let out seems to prove otherwise.

when he comes into potions the next day, running to you with a gleeful expression, you know it’s over.

being next to him with the view of his handsome side-profile and hair blowing in the wind, forever imprinted in your memory, is enough for you.

and the satisfied smile on his face, proof that you caused a part of his happiness, is more than enough for you.

“aren’t you gonna be happy,” ningning cheekily murmurs to you as you leave class.

“what do you mean?”

“your next class is potions… with you-know-who,” she says in that annoying sing song voice, in which you want to smack that smug look off her face (lovingly).

“whatever,” you mumble, leaving her behind to get to your next class on time. perhaps you came to terms with how you felt about sunoo. and you also came to terms with the fact that he would never share the same feelings for you, in the same way.

as much as sunoo sneakily creeped his way into your heart, you doubted you could or would ever be able to do the same.

you make it to your seat before sunoo enters, noticing how he walks in with his friends, laughing and joking as they find their seats.

you shrink into your dark green scarf, eyes downcast. your grip on your quill tightens when sunoo walks over.

he greets you and you attempt to respond normally, although your eyes barely meet his.

“what’s wrong?”

you despised him for always noticing the tiniest details about you.

you swallow, "hm? what are you talking about?”

sunoo frowns for the first time in front of you, and you feel even worse for causing that reaction of his.

he’s quiet for a moment, before he speaks in a tone you’ve never heard before,

“then, do you want to go to hogsmeade together?”

you know- you already know it’s most likely an effort to make you feel better as a nice friend- and yet those words can’t help but slip out of your mouth anyway.

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed, “like a date?”

then it hits you, what your stupid no-filter mouth just unleashed. with a split-second delay, you cup a hand over your mouth, horrified.

sunoo pauses at your words and you’re just about to apologize when he cuts you off.

“yeah,” he looks away bashfully, “if you’re up for it.”

you shoot up from your position. did you just hallucinate his words?

“me? and you?” you fumble for words, utterly astounded.

“yes?” sunoo sounds almost confused. he scratches the back of his head, “i thought it was obvious that i liked you.”

at that your mouth drops open. kim sunoo? likes you?

he lets out an endeared giggle at your expression. “I was always trying to get your attention, but i think you just didn’t notice. i really thought you weren’t interested.”

“w-what-but, how?” you splutter, feeling much warmer with your scarf wrapped around you compared to earlier.

you catch his reddening ears and fidgety hands.

“to be honest, i thought you were really interesting and mysterious at first. so i wanted to get close to find out more about you, but that didn’t exactly work for a while.”

you cringe, about to apologize, but sunoo holds a hand to stop you.

“so i did make an effort to get to know you better, and along the way it just happened that i thought you were different… and cute.

you soften at that.

“you didn’t act fake to me. you didn’t try to use me for my kindness. you were just you, and i liked that a lot.”

“sunoo…”

“even if you reject me now, i’m so happy and grateful that we’re friends now, and-“

hold on, reject?

“sunoo,” you quickly interrupt. he stops and glances at you uncertainly. without thinking about it much, and with a pounding heart, you place a hand over his shaking one.

“i like you too. like, a lot,” you mutter shyly. his eyebrows shoot up as you rub your hands nervously together. “of course I’ll go with you.”

let’s just say, many were surprised to see the living sunshine kim sunoo and you walking out of potions class with your hands intertwined.

a/n ▸ guys im sorry i struggle so much writing for sunoo and i have no clue why 😭 anyways hope you enjoyed the first installment <3

MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @lov3niki @heesterical @rerequire @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount @hoeshii

SERIES TAGLIST ▸ @ritsusakumasgf @minimarkive @lilactangerine @shinsou-rii @ahnneyong @nomniki @nyanggk @imtaehyungry @seattlesolace @allthegirlsmialoved @annoyingbitch83 @jakahbot @leeis @heavenforatlas @acciocriativity @loveza1nab @juliemr0 @en-martieru @uomre

UNABLE TO TAG ▸ @/27melodies

send an ask/dm to be added to the ‘charms and chasers’ taglist!

#enhypenwriters #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #sunoo x you #sunoo x reader #sunoo imagines #sunoo scenarios #sunoo fluff

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jazeswhbhaven · 2 months

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I just have a massive brain rot, cause, what if Minhyeok and MC have a strained relationship at the start of the game? This is due to MC's past callousness and learned helplessness that affected Minhyeok badly in the past after high school or something but years of arguments led to the estrangment of their friendship. This time instead of continuing to coddle MC to high heaven (the guy admitted to "raising" MC) and possibly ruin himself if MC doesn't come back from Hell, he somewhat moves on to focus on his life (or activate his rizz and charms at full capacity). He still cares deeply for MC of course, and he still loves them (though whether it is romantic or platonic depends), he helped them find an apartment and a stable job, sometimes helping them with money issues if they're low on cash, and even drives them to visit their parents' graves every year. However, seeing how MC not changing even after years of him letting them figure their life out and would likely let themself rot if he didn't check up on them from time to time, it is really sad and difficult to watch since Minhyeok is probably the only one MC has left. The day Gabriel killed him was also the day he planned to cut things off with MC. Also, instead of seeing Minhyeok as a brother/best friend/caretaker 2.0, MC has this guilty intense romantic attraction to him but never tells anyone about it. Like could you imagine??? How much of a asspull it could be??? For me, this would make MC's feelings somewhat more complex instead of just horny and flip-flop determination. Hell fulfilled every one of their fantasies and wants, they have everyone's love for them on the silver platter, they don't have to change and live in lavish and comfort for the rest of their life. But they love Minhyeok, and their feeling for him are more genuine than what they have with any other devils, they actually yearn and long for him, the fact that Minhyeok continues to help them when he can wash his hands off their mess, he still there for them, and they also wanted to have that perfect life with Minhyeok.

PS: Sorry for the words vomit but I need to let a bit of it out and please ignore it if it bother you (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Ahhh anon, I had to take a moment to read this a couple times (brain does a thing ┗(･ω･;)┛) so now I can fully digest it and discuss this!!! It would be so much more realistic I think to have MC harbor these feelings for Minhyeok because let's face it, they're still human and he did stick around and take care of them. In your scenario, he was close to getting exhausted, and that's reality. While he may care for MC deeply, there's a limit to everyone's capacity to take care of a grown adult, and unless you want that role for the rest of your life, you gotta have tough love and set boundaries. MC being in hell and learning that they are receiving unconditional love from entities beyond their understanding and yet still pinning for Minhyeok would ALSO be realistic. Because MC is the vast majority of folks who would be like "damn, this is nice and all but I wanna go home..." especially you know since they aren't dead, they're just in Hell doing a task under Satan's contract. Once done, they do have the option of going back. Knowing this fuels the fact that MC would miss Minhyeok and have someone who genuinely stuck it out for them, who stayed there and saw them at their worst, and had realistic reactions. The devils are nice and maybe not so nice all the time, but they aren't human. They pretty much expect MC to be lewd and do whatever it is that humans do, and they'll just brush it off because it's Hell. Minhyeok is that dose of reality. There ARE consequences, there IS such a thing as tough love, he WON'T baby them forever. In this scenario of yours, I think MC in the game would have more of "I'm just here to do this and go home, don't make my job any harder than it needs to be" kind of attitude. I'm still thinking that canon-wise Minhyeok may be MC's OTP and they will leave Hell in the end to be with him. That's just my guess, because that seems the most likely choice. MC wants that life with him, and will grow old and be with him as normal while still thinking about the devils they met as a distant memory. AH sorry to make this sorta angsty ;.;

#whb #jwhbasks❓#whb minhyeok #ah yes MC and Minhyeok discussions #love those realistic emotional struggles tho

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nocasdatsgay · 4 months

Text

Ch. 1 of From the Shadows the Beast will Rise

Masterlist here/ Prequel “Chokehold” Here

Summary: Eris gets a visit from Azriel months later and is summoned to the Night Court.

Rated: M

Warnings (I forgot 😅): sexual themes, Azriel’s past trauma, discussion of mor’s trauma,

AO3 Link Here | Chapter 2

**Also read below**

It had been months since their last encounter, but Eris knew Azriel was watching him. He could smell hints of evergreen from the shadows in the far corner of his room in the Forest House. They had followed him around all evening, except during dinner when they had the right mind to make themselves scarce around his father. Eris reasoned it was probably due to his lack of responses to the letters in his study.

It was only when the smell got stronger he knew Azriel physically arrived. Anger flared for just a moment within. Azriel knew better than anyone the sensitivity of the wards on the house. However, Eris wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead he schooled his features and looked down at the book he was reading and flipped the page.

“Are you going to hide in the corner all night?” He asked loudly, not bothering to read the text in front of him. When no answer came he sighed, annoyed. “I can smell you, idiot.”

Eris looked up to see Azriel step out of the shadows. He smirked at the displeasure etched into his features. Spymaster wasn’t used to being caught. Eris folded his page and closed the book, setting it to the side table. He let his gaze run quickly over the male in front of him.

“You have a lot of nerve coming into this house uninvited,” Eris folded his hands together in his lap and lifted his chin. “Just because I let your shadows linger doesn’t mean you’re welcome to enter.”

Shadows whirled around Azriel, more pronounced in the light casted from the fireplace. If Eris didn’t know any better, they seemed agitated as well. Azriel didn’t move, save for his wings twitching.

He glared at Eris. “Rhys wants to know why you’ve ignored his summons.”

Eris scowled. “Rhys overestimates his importance. He also underestimates mine. I’m not his citizen to be summoned. Maybe he should start asking politely; requesting instead of demanding.” Eris slumped back in his seat and grinned. “He’s so used to ordering you around like a dog, he forgets what it’s like to actually communicate with someone of decent intelligence.”

Azriel stepped forward. Eris didn’t ignore the glance he casted to the roaring fireplace before focusing back on Eris.

“You’re the one who begged for an alliance.” Azriel emphasized the word beg just enough for Eris to notice. He didn’t react even if trousers felt slightly tighter. “If you wish for Rhys to honor it, I suggest you stop being an entitled bastard.”

“Did he send you?” Eris snapped in reply. “Or did you come on your own to waste my time? I assume it’s the latter since Rhysand is fully aware of the stipulations of our bargain.”

Azriel crossed his arms. Shadows slid to the carpet, and Eris watched them creep forward.

“Where is your bargain mark, anyway?” Azriel tilted his head.

“I don’t have one.” Eris felt the cool touch of a shadow circling around his ankle.

“Has to be somewhere your father won’t see it,” Azriel mused. Another shadow circled Eris’s other ankle. “Does he weld the knife himself? Or does he make his guards extract information from you while he watches?”

Both shadows slipped up his pant legs.

“Himself.” Eris answered honestly. Phantom pains from all the times he’d been questioned lurked in the back of his mind. “It’s strictly politics. You should know; Rhysand would rather bloody your hands than his own. At least my father is willing to do that part himself.” If that stung, Azriel didn’t show it. “Call back your shadows.”

Shadows slid down his legs again, slinking out his pants and back onto the carpet. His eyes lost track of where they went when they merged with the others.

“Inside your left thigh.” A hint of smirk graced his lips. “Of course it’s somewhere slutty.”

“Are we done?” Eris finally stood and straightened his jacket.

“Only if you want to be.”

There was sincerity in those Hazel eyes. An offer. It was nighttime. Besides some guards, no one else was up at this hour. Eris debated for a split second if he wanted to risk it.

“Not in this house,” Eris replied after a moment, more softer than he intended.

Azriel nodded slightly. “Rhys did send me. He was wondering if you were dead.”

Eris laughed, the hollowness of it evident. “My apologies then, for disappointing you both. All of Pyrthian will know if I die before my father. My brothers would make sure of it with their bragging.”

Eris could have sworn there was a scowl on the shadowsinger’s face before he stepped back, disappearing and taking his shadows with him.

***

Eris waited two days after Azriel’s visit to send Rhys a letter. The meeting in the moonstone palace three days after the response was just as tedious as he anticipated. There wasn’t much he didn’t already know. He knew from his correspondence with Jurian that Koschei sent a warning to Vassa. He knew already of the efforts with Day Court to research; Lucien told him of that weeks ago.

He didn’t like his brother being the one in talks with Helion but vocalizing it would draw suspicion none of them needed. The only surprise of the meeting was the presence of the middle Archeron sister, Elain. She sat silently beside Azriel, watching him. Eris waited until the end of the meeting to put his amber gaze towards her.

“You never explained why you’re here, little sister.” He loved the way she scowled at him and bristled at the sarcastic endearment. “Are you even still to be my little sister? I can never tell with the way you string him along.”

He heard a scratching of wood. Probably Feyre’s claws since she hissed at him. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

“Why not? We’ll be family eventually.”

He turned to Rhys and Feyre and he smirked at his correct assumption. He felt Azriel’s glare and a shadow slip around his ankle. He kicked out his foot, shooing it away. He then felt a claw against the wall of his mind. He mentally sighed and opened a crack in it. It was Rhys who spoke to him.

Why do you always cause problems? Elain is here for a reason.

What reason is that? I thought her sole job was to ensure Lucien stays tethered to your court.

Eris shut down his walls again when Rhys growled at him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They always acted as if they were above court politics; like they weren’t playing games of their own. Eris leaned back in his seat, debating if he should just leave them to stew. But Elain kept her doe eyes focused on him. He stared back.

She whispered, “Autumn blooms wilt without the sun.” He furrowed his brows at her but she continued. “They weep for the lost fox and the slaughtered hounds. They weep for the sunlight.”

“Poetry?” He cut his eyes to Rhys and Feyre.

Elain continued and a chill went down his spine. “Only out of the shadows, will the beast rise. Autumn blooms make the path. If they falter the beast shall fall to the depths. The blooms will be set ablaze and burn to ash.” She blinked and looked at him like she was just now truly looking at him. “Kill your father before he kills you, Eris Vanserra.”

Realization settled over him. Eris’s eyes cut to Rhysand. A scratch in his mind told him Rhys was listening.

A fucking seer?

Or poetry. Rhys physically smirked at him. Heed her warning Eris. Time is running out.

***

Eris could have lit his entire guest room on fire with the rage welling in him. Of course Rhysand was hoarding Elain away from his brother, not only for his allegiance but also her powers. A fucking seer. There hadn’t been one in Prythian since before he was born.

He continued to pace the room, chewing on his nail while he thought. The other sister- the witch, she lost her powers. He never anticipated she’d accept his marriage proposal when he asked but he wished she had. A waste of power. He didn’t know how Nesta lost her powers- his informants heard whispers of Feyre nearly dying in childbirth and Nesta used her power to save her and the heir. Now Elain, with her own abilities, was at risk.

His informants also told him of how a certain shadowsinger was close to Elain. Too close. A flower pendant necklace purchased by him was telling enough. Probably an order from Rhysand to keep Elain occupied while putting just enough distance between her and his brother. It kept Lucien tied to Night Court without risking him taking Elain away. He scoffed loudly. Rhysand and his games, an annoyance to the world.

Eris stopped, dropping his hand when he smelt the air change. He waited and turned to the opening of the bathing chamber. There stood Azriel, his shadows a frenzy around him and making him look more dark and broody than usual. Eris slid his hands into his jacket pockets.

“And what do I owe for this visit, Azriel?”

Azriel walked up to him. Eris watched the shadows try and reach out to him when he stopped within arms reach.

“I told you to stop antagonizing Mor. I didn’t mean for you to start taking your shit out on Elain.”

“Does she know what you did in this room, Azriel? Does she know you rutted like a mindless beast atop her mate’s brother until we both came undone?” Eris sneered when a hand came around his throat. “You think I don’t know about that? You’re the one who pursues her knowing she’s mated. And knowing you like to fuck males. Don’t act angry about it now.”

“I’m sick of your fuckin mouth.” He squeezed before shoving him back by his throat. “You’re the one who begged for a lesser male to choke you. Choke you until you came from that alone.”

Eris coughed, stumbling back and throwing out his hands for balance. “I asked politely. That isn’t begging.”

“You asked because I told you to. You think you’re better than me but you’d get on your knees and choke on my cock if I pulled it out. Do you even like females? Is that why you left Mor to die?”

That was the wrong thing to say to him. Eris felt his temp rising and he set his arms ablaze with his magic.

“When will you brutes let that shit go?” Eris stalked up to Azriel, who took just as many steps back. “You found her, didn’t you? I smelt your fucking shadows even back then. I smelled them coming. If I took her, she would have been murdered by my father.” Eris let the rage blind him as he cornered Azriel against the wall. “I’m not the one who put a nail through her womb to make sure that bastard’s seed didn’t take. Stop blaming me for her father’s doings.”

He would have kept going if the smell of pure terror hadn’t reached his nose, snapping him out of his rage. He realized several things at once. Azriel was utterly still, wings tucked tight and eyes glazed over. Shadows covered his hands until they were no longer visible. Shadows also circled Eris’s arms as if they could suffocate the flames dancing on them. Eris shook out his magic and stepped back, shadows disappearing with the flames.

Eris always knew those scars on Azriel’s hands were from burns. He knew because he had burn scars of his own, just hidden. Azriel seemed to come back to himself but the shadows didn’t leave his hands. Eris glanced down at them.

“Who gave you those scars?”

Azriel slumped against the wall, wings drooping in a slump. He blinked a few times before responding. “My brothers. I try to not,” he shook his head. “I normally don’t let it bother me. But the way your magic,” he stopped again, like he might be ill if he opened his mouth.

“I won’t do it again,” Eris whispered.

The shadows eased away from Azriel’s hand and Eris grabbed his wrist. Azriel jolted but didn’t yank his arm away. Eris knew he shouldn’t but he traced the scarring with his other fingers while he held up Azriel’s hand with his own.

“For what it’s worth, I like your scars.” A confession he said so softly he wasn’t sure he even spoke it aloud. “What happened to your brothers? After they did this.”

Azriel snatched his hand away. “Nothing happened.” Eris cut his eyes to see Azriel scowling. “Don’t patronize me, Vanserra.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Eris straightened his posture, clasping his hands behind his back. “Stay away from my brother’s mate and we’ll call it even.”

“Jealous?”

One of his shadows floated away and brushed against Eris’s cheek, wrapping around to file through his hair. Azriel’s eyes tracked it while he scowled. Eris pulled a hand from behind his back and lifted it. More shadows came and twirled around his fingers.

“Something tells me jealousy isn’t necessary.” Eris shook away the shadows. “You should go. Keir will be here and the last thing I need is him thinking I’m in good graces with Rhysand’s inner circle. Unless you plan on fighting me as a cover.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Keir wants to smell how you react when I fight you.” Azriel then stepped back and slipped away into the shadows.

#azris fanfiction #azris #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #from the shadows the beast will rise #y’all better know I care cause I posted this here AND on ao3 #I ain’t editing shit btw #an excuse for az to call eris slutty tbh

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whiskeynwriting · 10 months

Note

The way you write ghost is so genuine and realistic, he actually seems like a real person that i can clearly imagine in real life, i love ghost x bones!!

Would you ever write heartbreaking whump/angst for them? Literally bring me to tears, i’m ready for it

Love @sanfransolomitatm (that’s me) 🤍

Challenge accepted.

Also, thank you so much for the compliments, oh my goodness. The fact that he feels like a genuine person is so flattering to me, and I'm so glad he can be portrayed that way 🥹 I am also beyond thrilled to know that you love Ghost x Bones 🥰🥰🥰

Love Is a Sin (Part Two)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x OFC "Bones"

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Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Lord… there’s a lot. Mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy tests, loss/death, injury/gore, battle, use of weaponry, angst, mentions of past abuse, mentions/discussions of funeral details, PTSD and therapy, brain injury, major grief.

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A/N: Here’s part two! As promised, it’s much darker. My goal here was to pull emotions out of you guys, let me know how I did (;

Read part one here 🥰

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

“Alright,” Price booms, stomping into the room. “Let’s circle up. We’ve got plans to discuss.”

Already, he hates this. The entire atmosphere has shifted from light and lazy to dark and perilous. Simon can feel his heart rate increasing, his breaths deep and dragging. The mere thought of you in the field makes him want to jump up and wrap you in his arms, drag you away and hide you somewhere safe. What he hates even more than the possibility of that happening is the fact that he allowed it, he’s allowed this to happen. It wasn’t exactly his call to make, but he would’ve made it, and he didn't.

He’s made his bed, and this time, he’s got to lay in it.

So, without much choice, he watches his men regroup in front of him, with his partner sitting up to join in. Price tosses out the maps, Gaz whips out the compass, and Johnny’s already pulling out snacks. Tugging down his mask, Simon releases a harsh sigh, nothing that really draws anyone’s attention, though. He’s pretty much always cranky, and with you here, that trait has grown tenfold.

When Simon reaches for your hand on the couch, your eyes widen. What the hell is he doing? But before you can react, and before anyone else has a chance to see, Johnny tosses a protein bar at the lieutenant.

“Johnny, what the fuck?”

“Don’t be dumb.” Johnny scolds outwardly, scowling at his closest friend.

Price can feel something lingering in the air, an awkward silence, a secret. But he pushes it away. Glancing between his teammates, he clasps his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get to it, then.”

Here we go.

“No man’s land.” Price’s raspy voice begins, finger pressing into the map. “Are we ready for that?”

Easily, the boys respond. Gaz’s simple yes, Johnny’s hell yes, and Ghost’s ‘course we are. And with a contented smirk, Price then turns in your direction.

“Are you?”

You can’t deny the feeling of anxiety surrounding this entire mission. Every time the plans are detailed and discussed, a sort of nervous bile rises in your throat. But you’re here for a reason, and you can’t let the rest of them down. You won’t.

“Yes.”

“Good lass. Gaz, what’ve you got?”

Kyle had performed aerial surveillance before the mission began on foot, scouting the area for more details.What he discovered wasn’t easy to stomach, but was to be expected.

“Casualties by the dozens all throughout. The cadavers are mostly soldiers, troops that had gone in before us. Some had been taken hostage, maybe two or three, but the rest didn’t survive.”

“Bones,”

Instantly, your head shoots up, looking into the blue eyes of your captain. “You stay focused on us, alright? The five of us, that means yourself, too. There’s no bother in saving any of those dead men; am I clear?”

Swallowing, you nod. Though his words are harsh, he means well, and he’s right. Any body on that field is just that, a body, an unfortunate result of war. You have to focus on who’s alive, and keeping them alive.

“Yes, sir.”

More than ever before, Simon wants to hold you. The muscles in his hand twitch slightly, wanting to curl his palm around your thigh in a comforting squeeze. He knows this won’t be easy for you. While you’ve seen battle before, you’ve never gone into the field as a medic. Years ago, you focused on killing. It’s a whole different ball game when you switch gears to saving.

“The reason they all died,” Kyle continues, “Is because they didn’t have you.”

Looking his way, you find a reassuring grin. Returning his encouraging words is your simple nod, a small sense of pride shifting in your features. Your team believes in you.

“When we get across to the building, and that is a when,” The captain clarifies, “Bones will find coverage. She will not be infiltrating with us. In hiding, she’ll wait for our radio. Once we’ve confirmed our kill count, we’ll leave the building… completely empty of souls.”

And when he adds that last little tidbit, the boys around you hum, a certain excitement flowing through their veins. But Simon’s adrenaline rush is also coupled with anxiety. Outside alone? He questions, it’ll be far too easy for them to reach her. But your captain is confident you’ll be able to hold your own, and Ghost needs to try his hand in having faith in that.

“You need to be careful with her.”

“And you need to watch yourself!” Ghost scoffs in return, inching away from his friend. “I can’t take a piss in private?”

Johnny shrugs, “Needed to piss, too.”

With a heavy groan, Simon rolls his eyes, redirecting himself to the task at hand, literally.

“What do you mean, anyways?”

“You’ve gone soft.”

“For her.” He mumbles, and Johnny’s brows raise.

“Holy shite.”

“Shut it, Johnny. There’s nothing wrong with it.” It’s not just Soap he’s trying to convince.

“But there’s something wrong with you.” The sergeant snaps back. “You’re never like this on missions.”

Now, he doesn’t respond. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t know what to say; Johnny’s right. He’s too far in his own head to focus on anything else, the details of this mission fleeting tidbits in his brain.

“You need to get your head on straight before you get yourself hurt.”

Again, he’s right. Acting like this is dangerous. You’re an incredible distraction for him, you have been since day one. But this isn’t something he can fight. Last night was… something else. It was different, dare he even say special. It was the most intimate moment you’ve shared. There’s no denying it, Simon feels tied to you.

“Simon,” He then says, truly drawing Ghost’s attention. “I’m happy for you, I really am. I’ve never seen you take such a liking to a person… aside from me.” With that, he nudges his shoulder, grinning.

“Get on with it, Johnny.” But beneath the mask, he’s smiling, too.

“I think you’d be an idiot to lose this, her.” He states, accent just as strong as his candid nature. “And anywhere else, it’d be a great thing. But not here, not now.”

At this, Simon turns his head toward his friend, eyeing him beneath the forest’s dimness. It’s grown dark out, the trees hiding the cabin well enough to be comfortable for another night. And he knows once he goes back inside, he’ll cozy up next to you.

“She’s a teammate out here.” Johnny says, ending his ramble. “Nothing more.” And with that, Johnny’s zipping himself up to head back inside.

That last statement rings throughout Simon’s head, barreling through any sentimental thought. He’s close with his teammates, would do almost anything for them. But for you, he’s wondering what he wouldn’t do. Johnny’s words were true, but it doesn’t really help his situation. He can’t shove down his feelings for you. Sure, he can restrain himself from being outwardly affectionate. But keeping you safe? That was a priority for him.

Back inside, everyone’s picked a spot in the living room. A few blankets had been dragged out from the bedroom, one for each of you to lay on. And with your Mylar thermal blankets, you were more than warm enough for the night. Simon can see you huddled up beneath the shiny material in the far corner of the living area, right beside the couch. Your back is up against the wall and Simon can already see that you’ve laid a blanket out for him right next to you.

Sometimes, your relationship feels like a school-age crush. Saving a seat for each other at the lunch table, pulling out chairs for the other, giving and trading snacks, all nonverbal gestures that are just… sweet, considerate. Evidence of an unspoken connection.

“Thanks, love.” Simon mumbles, grunting as he lays down on the tattered fabric.

“No problem.” You’re laying on your side, already smiling at him.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Settling on his left side, he faces you with his back toward the group.

“Why? Are you blushing?” Teasingly, you grin, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle. He’s smiling. And you’d give anything to see it.

“Shut up.” The roll of his eyes is such a tell-tale sign for him; he could never be annoyed with you, not truly.

Turning slightly, Simon settles on his back. Within the cabin’s darkness, you scooch a little closer, nuzzling into his side. His bulking body hides you, too, his insides burning bright with affection when your lips press against his covered bicep, wet from the snowfall during his earlier outdoor excursion. But you don’t mind. You’re not as close as you were last night, or the night previous in your little tent, but this will do. You’ll take what you can, because you always sleep so soundly next to him.

Simon can tell you’re sleeping well, your snores are evidence of that. And in the darkness of night, he almost feels comfortable again. There isn’t a single worry in his mind regarding the lads, he’d even grown the confidence to wiggle his arm beneath your head, pulling you into him. However, there were many worries brewing in his head about you. More than ever before, he feels a need to preserve this, to keep your relationship intact. He loathes the fact that this happened here, your expression of love for him. If anything, he wishes it’d happened back at base, somewhere truly safe and private.

Guiding him away from such anxious contemplation is your soft, sleepy moan, and the movement of your hand. Lifting your palm, it slides up and over his side, resting on his chest. But you don’t stop there. Sleepy digits move around the neckline of his shirt, searching for something. And then he realizes - his dog tags. Once found, you cling to them, body curling into his side even more than before. Jesus, do you pull every ounce of sweetness from him. The simple motion makes him sigh, eyes closing as he revels in this. He hopes he never loses this.

It was an action you’d done a few times before, something that’s almost become routine. Every other night, it seems, you like to play with them. Awake or asleep, you find some sense of comfort with the small, metal plates. They represent him, his existence, the man that he is.

For some reason, you thought this would be… louder, scarier, more intense than it is. Although, it’s just the approach, just the simple shuffle of feet through the woods. Maybe you expected the enemy to be ready, to pounce on you once you were a foot outside the cabin. But it seems Price was successful with his planning. You’re going to surprise them.

With weapons up and at the ready, you move slowly, steadily, scanning the area as you approach. The air is still, a small chill moving through the woods. It holds you captive, steals your breath and haunts your bones. Something is coming.

Each of you are spaced a bit from the other, a few yards in between each of your teammate’s movements. With your rifles up and aimed, you wonder, what are you aiming for? Any man? A possible vehicle? Movement throughout the slightly rocky terrain? Jesus, it’s been years since you’d been at this. But you’re ready, you can feel it.

Raising a fist, Price signals your halt. Each of your steps still, your breaths held while your hearts pound. What does he see?

As soon as you all stop, Ghost is looking to his right, assessing you. Your gun’s safety is off, you’re holding it properly, and your stance is right on. The sight makes him proud.

That’s my girl.

Through the comms, Soap’s voice comes through. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Five men, weapons in hand and flanking right.”

“Approaching?” Ghost’s gruff voice inquires, eyes narrowing.

“Not yet; they’re flanking to opposite sides of the building, crouching. They’re ready for us, lads.”

So much for the element of surprise.

“We’re crouching. Continue approach, and watch yer heads.”

“Sir.” Johnny responds, his voice firm.

In unison, your group moves forward, scopes searching for this small group of men. Movement to the left of the building calls for your attention, and you wonder…

“Are we shooting?” Whispering into the comms, you keep your eye on a rustling bit of brush, the top of a man’s head clearly visible.

“Not yet. Stay out of their line of fire.” Price returns, stern with his command.

Irritation courses through you, as you now have a clear visual of the enemy’s head. Still, you return with gritted teeth, “Aye.”

“Boys, line up.” He then decides, “Left to right, we’re each taking a man. Bones, keep eyes on your current target, and wait for my go ahead.”

“Yes, sir.”

With Ghost on your left, Price is directly to your right, and then Gaz and Soap. Each man walks on until they find their target within the group, sounding off into the comms once this first step is done.

“We drop ‘em together, swift and silent.”

“Aye.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

And then, your turn. “On your signal, Price.” He can tell you’re getting agitated, and it humors him.

Looking off to his left, Price can see you through the brush with his own eyes. Returning his gaze, you witness his amused smirk, an expression that aggravates you further. He’s such a father figure, holding you back before you make a wrong move, guiding you toward the correct path.

“Shoot.”

Just as he predicted, your targets drop in unison. A single bullet zips through each man’s head, penetrating their skulls and knocking them dead. On your own target, a spurt of blood shoots from his skin as he drops, the firm thud of his body heard even from your position.

“Advance.”

Shuffling your feet, you roll your shoulders, breaths steady as you walk toward the building. The surrounding cover of forest you’d been using is starting to wear thin; when you’re on unmarked land, there’ll be close to nothing keeping you from getting hit.

“Halt.” The word isn’t rushed or frantic, but demanding as all hell..

No man’s land is only a few yards away from where you stand, the bodies of dead men scattering the dusty earth. From the angle you’re at, you’re unable to see their wounds directly. But that’s just fine, the sight would only distract you.

“Landmines.”

“Where?” Immediately, Ghost is speaking, having to actively stop his feet from moving closer to you.

“Surrounding the perimeter.” Price clarifies, heavy breaths coming through the radio’s static. “Retrieve your GPR’s.”

While the Ground Penetrating Radars in your packs aren’t exactly ideal, they’re still useful. Though smaller than the usual model, they can detect the electrical current of the explosive. However, it can also confuse any type of metal with a mine, too. Being that many, if not all of these bodies have dog tags around their necks, this could be difficult.

As you continue on, you hear the occasional notification, the small sound from one of your teammate’s readings. And at first, it’s terrifying. Every time you hear a machine go off, you expect an explosion. But these aren’t rookies you’re dealing with; they have decades of expert experience. You thought that’d make this a piece of cake.

Propelled through the air, your body is flung into a pit. The shrill ring in your ears prevents you from accurately hearing the shouts of your team, eyes blinking widely as you regain your bearings. What… happened? Who set one off?

Before you can hear the words of your comrades, the quick zip of lead rushes through the air. The ringing in your head only heightens now, your first instinct being to duck. Shoving yourself further into the pit, your bruised body rolls down the multiple mounds of dirt, finally landing at the bottom.

Cocking your gun, you almost can’t seem to get air in fast enough. You’re already bleeding from the side of your head, nothing extreme but it will definitely have to be looked at. For now, though, you need to come back down. Looking to your left, you’re relieved to see that you aren’t alone. That is, until you identify them.

William Anderson

John Davis

Henry Miller

You don’t know any of them.

Eyes scanning the surrounding figures, they widen, breaths now coming all too quick. It’s like you’re seeing zombies; some eyes are open, black and bloodied and staring into your soul. Others are closed, having embraced the sweet release of death. Limbs have been blown off, flesh rotting as it mixes with the dirt. Legs and arms are twisted, distorted in otherworldly ways. Torn pieces of their uniforms, dog tags that have yet to be collected. Hair muddled and out of code, jaws open and broken.

But the medic in you comes to. Regardless of the injury on your head, and the fresh bruises on your limbs, you move. Whipping out a pair of latex gloves, you scramble toward the dead men. Reaching for their necks, your fingers curl around the circular metals to grab and tear them from their chains. Blood smears across your covered fingers, flesh moving as you dig through clothes to find some of the identification. Hurriedly, you stash them away, using the inner compartment of your jacket. They deserve to be remembered.

“Bones!”

“Copy.” Your voice is rushed, panting on the other end as you collect what remains of the lives now lying dead.

“Get to Gaz.”

“Location?”

“East of the building, along the treeline.”

Shit. Right now, you’re on the opposite end. Regardless, your response is, “Copy.”

Now that you’ve given yourself a moment, you can fully hear the surrounding commotion. You can also hear the way Ghost has been frantically calling your name through your personal comms.

“Bones? Bones?! Fucking Christ, please.”

“Ghost, I’m here.”

And that scares you more than anything. You’ve never heard him so distressed.

“Where are you?”

As soon as you were out of sight, Simon was an absolute fucking mess. It took everything in him not to leap after you into that trench, doing his best to remind himself that you've done this before. You’re good at your job and you can take care of yourself but he needs to take care of you.

The field has never felt so chaotic before. And he usually loves this, the thrill is just too addicting. But right now, he can’t get his head on straight, not until he hears your voice.

“In a pit.” Replying quietly, you gain the courage to glance over the edge. From here, you can see the far east side of the building. That’s where you need to be.

“Still?!” Simon replies, ducking behind a boulder before reaching over and taking a few shots. “You need to move!”

“Heading for the building’s east side.”

Simon was still in the forest when the landmine went off, far enough away to not get hit with the explosion or any of its remnants. But he saw how hard you took the hit, and immediately wished it was him.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, ba - Ghost. I’m fine.” Your correction makes him chuckle, even within this bedlam.

“Ghost!” Soap screams his way, “Ya cannae just stand there!”

Dumbly, Ghost blinks at him.

“Move!”

Taking his own advice, and that of his closest friend, Ghost switches his position. Johnny watches as he pushes forward, following his eyeline only to find you on the end of it. And concern fills the pit of his stomach. Clearly, Ghost isn’t advancing toward the building; he’s watching your six perfectly.

Another group of enemies leak from the building, evidenced by the collective thud of their feet. But peeking out over the edge again might as well be your demise, as you’re immediately targeted by two men.

Eyes widening, you duck back down, head running rampant with ideas. You can’t stay here, you don’t have any chance of survival in this pit. They have the advantage, higher ground. And you need to at least be level with them.

Reaching for your gun, you’re suddenly hit with the realization that your rifle is gone. Head whipping in every direction, you’re unable to find it in your frantic search. It must’ve flung from your body when you were hit. Onto option number two, your pistol. But retrieving it from the holster does nothing for you; a large piece of shrapnel has blown right through it.

“Motherfucker.”

Frustration doesn’t come close to what you’re feeling, but you need to push that aside and find new cover. Scrambling up the side of the ditch, you aim for the forest, which is unfortunately even further away from Gaz. But as soon as you’re up, you’re turning, the two men now only yards away. Ducking away from two shots, you feel yourself stumble backwards a bit. Sweat drips down into the wound on your head, down your neck and chest. Reaching back, your hand finds a tree to rest on briefly, readying yourself for this fight. But then, seemingly out of thin air, one of them drops.

“I’ve got your six.” You knew he did.

Your fixed blade has now become your best friend, quickly gravitating to your hand. They, on the other hand, choose to handle this with fists. The man isn’t much larger than you, allowing you to keep your footing as he swings. Your feet plant firmly in the earth, one further behind to keep your balance. A quick slice across his face surprises him, giving you the opportunity for a stab to the upper chest. The blade sinks into his skin, tearing through muscle to reach his most vital organ. Among all the adrenaline in your veins, you bare your teeth, raising your fists to break his jaw with your hand. Kicking him in the groin knocks him to his knees, allowing you to shift your stance. Standing behind his crumpled form, you grab a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up and back. Tugging the knife from his chest, you slide it smoothly across his neck, spilling a warm redness down his front before inevitably tossing him to the dirt.

“Damn.”

Turning, you rush into the forest, doing your best to evade the current chaos. Ducking through the brush, you make your way back to the start point, searching for Gaz. He must be wounded, and in turn, hiding.

“Bones,” Crackling through your comm link is his voice, a big ragged. “Three yards ahead.”

Once you’ve followed his instructions, you find him lying behind a fallen tree. He’s used a good amount of brush to cover himself, which he pushes away once you’re close enough.

“Can you just patch it up?”

In the moment, you almost breathe out your inner words, oh shit. But you don’t want to frighten him. The sight is gruesome, though, genuinely gorey. His left leg is mangled, three pieces of shrapnel in his stomach and two in his chest. Truthfully, you’ve never seen such torn, wet flesh on a living man. It’s hanging off the bone, tendons visible as they cling to what muscle they can. The shrapnel in his midsection oozes blood but not too much, and probably won’t fully spill until the metal is removed. However, you still retrieve your quickest blood clotting agent for the wounds. Gaz hisses through his teeth at the burn of it, the sensation sizzling through his body. Lastly, applying a good coat of saline to his lower leg will aid in reducing infection, as well as wrapping it entirely.

“Can you move?”

“Not anymore.” His voice is low, strained.

“Where is Price? Did he get hit?”

Nodding, Gaz applies a bit of pressure to his biggest wound. “Nah, he moved on.”

“He didn’t have any injuries?”

“He was too far ahead of the blast.

“Jesus.” No wonder Kyle is so badly mangled, he’s the only one that got hit.

Glancing around, you begin to witness the small creep of fog covering the area. The nighttime air turns thick, and thunder rolls gently overhead. And you can’t see anyone else, the rest of your team is fighting.

“We need to move you.”

“I have enough cover here. You couldn’t even find me.”

“Gaz,”

“Please just go,” Head lying back on the moss, he sighs. “Finish the mission, bring me home when you’re done.”

With a defeated and aggravated sigh, you concede. “Are you still armed?”

“To the teeth.” He confirms, now realizing your lack of weaponry. “Where’s your rifle?”

“Blown off when your dumbass decided to step on a landmine.” And the snarky remark makes him smile. “And my pistol was hit by some shrapnel.”

“Take mine.”

“Don’t be dumb.”

“I have my pistol, you haven't got shit.”

“Kyle.”

“You need it. Go.”

“Bones, cover me at the forest’s east edge.”

“Copy.” Giving Gaz one last judgmental glare, you snatch his rifle, heading off toward your captain.

Crouching low, you begin to crawl when you hear heavy fire again. Price is taking shots from behind a fallen tree’s trunk, watching you inch over to his side.

“How’s Gaz?”

“Alive.” Shrugging, you try to calm your breaths. Looking into John’s blue eyes does well in accomplishing that. “What’s the plan?”

Lifting a shoulder, he speaks into the comms while holding your gaze. “Ghost and Soap take the right. Bones and I will flank the left.”

“We’ve lost our GPR’s.” Soap’s Scottish accent shines through the static.

“Bloody fuckin’ - how?”

“Dropped mine during Gaz’s hit.”

“And Ghost?”

“Lost it in a fight.”

Price scoffs, shaking his head with a whisper of, “Children.”

“Sir?”

“Just get it done. Use your knowledge, your experience, and tread lightly.”

When Price finishes his sentence, you feel an internal pull to your right. Turning your head, you’re met with a pair of strikingly dark eyes. Yards away, beneath the cover of shrubs, Simon’s stare penetrates your heart.

“Are you hurt?” He whispers into your ear, stare holding firm.

All you do is shake your head, and he nods. “Good.”

“Let’s move.” Price then commands, moving toward the building’s right.

Creeping backwards, you swallow. You don’t want to lose sight of him, but you have a job to do. As you turn, you witness Ghost stand, his form towering over the dark green foliage. By the way he moves, you can tell he’s about to follow Johnny. But he stops to take one more look at you, before he grunts.

Sharply, the left side of his body jerks backward, feet staggering a bit. Eyes widening, you lean forward, watching the bullet go right through Ghost’s upper chest. The gasp that leaves your lungs is too loud for your liking, but before you can do much more than that, Ghost is pulling out another gun. With a loud grunt, he aims and fires, dropping a man not too far from you. And with rage now lighting up his insides, he steps forward, reholstering his pistol so he can grab his rifle again. Marching on, you watch as he shoots down five more men, clearing a path straight for the building. With genuine amazement, you watch him, peering over the edge of the fallen log to see every man now narrow their sights to him. But he’s a freight train of a man, listening to the men’s shouts and their weapons, ducking behind anything he can before reappearing with vengeance. Ultimately, though, it’s a dumb move. It’s left him out in the open.

Going against Price’s orders, you set your rifle atop the fallen wood, watching his back. Aiming for the roof, you eliminate the targets up top while Ghost focuses on those surrounding him. And then Soap is appearing, stepping out from the treeline with his pistol out and ready. The way he stomps forward, the way his biceps bulge when he pulls the trigger, the look in his eye while he protects his teammate… it’s inspiring.

“Did I tell you to stay here?!” Yanking you backward by the straps of your vest, Price hauls you off with him.

Like a bumbling baby, you stumble backward, finding your footing just as Price lets you go. Together, you advance toward the building’s right side. You can already see an area for coverage, a large cluster of rocks off the side of a steep hill. It’ll give you enough space to hide while waiting for the boys to get inside.

For some reason, Simon expected you to stay back when he started mowing down a path through these men. He knows Price gave you an order, but in the back of his head, he thought you’d see that he had this handled. There wasn’t anything more you needed to do, he could do this for you. And that’s exactly why you stayed back for a moment, for as long as you could before Price pulled you back into battle, distracting Simon once again.

Head snapping to his right, he witnesses your eager lurch from the forest. You and the captain are ready for this attention, though, weapons drawn as you appear on the field. And it all seems to be going to plan now. Gaz is safe and handled for the moment, Ghost has an injury and so do you, but ultimately, you’re moving; you’re advancing, you’re winning.

Small trickles begin to drip from the sky, the product of the thunder you’d heard not so long ago. And for some reason, the moment freezes. You look up, witnessing the rain as it now freely falls; a moment of peace before your life’s most damaging event.

Another explosion.

Ever the father figure, Price’s fingers once again curl around your vest. He’s tossing you around like a ragdoll today, and right now, it’s because you lunged forward into combat. Flopping to the ground with a huff, your breaths escape your lungs, the wind completely knocked from your chest. And still, you crawl forward, hyperventilating while your eyes search.

At this point, even John is a little frazzled, neither one of you speaking until you hear the shouts of your sergeant.

“Bones!” He’s screaming, voice full of emotion because, well… he never thought this would happen. “Get to Ghost! Get to Ghost!”

And now, your stomach drops into your fucking ass. They didn’t hit a landmine, Simon did.

This time, Price can’t do anything to stop you. You’re scrambling forward, eyes darting around the field until Johnny whispers breathily into the comms, “In that ditch.”

A few yards ahead, Johnny steps in front of you, guarding your body from the men approaching. Price does the same, knowing it’s just the two of them now.

Dirt mixes to mud and smears across your hands, thick clumps sticking to the edges of your jacket. The wetness soaks through your knees to the entirety of your pants, the gentle drip now turning into a torrential downpour. Above your head, lightning strikes, thunder shaking the ground so fiercely that you end up slipping over the edge of the ditch. Falling headfirst into the crater, you land beside Simon’s motionless body.

“Si -” With heaving breaths, you crawl over to him. Swallowing, you lay a hand on his chest. “Simon.”

This is different than before, different than when you dealt with Gaz. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and you could almost throw up from nerves. So far, you’ve done well at putting your emotions aside during situations like this, but not now. Not when it’s the man you love.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it just doesn’t make sense. Not with your team’s experience and expertise, their strength and comradery; how did you find yourselves here? Each member was chosen for a specific reason, the best Price could get. Is that true? Have you really done your best?

Lifting his head slightly, Simon looks in your direction. And what you see is haunting. One eye swollen, the other filling with red. His left arm is distorted, both legs twisted in ways that aren’t human. There’s barely anything left of his right thigh, but that’s not where the biggest injury is. Looking up, you see that it’s on his head.

“Simon.” Shuffling forward, your eyes widen, hands immediately reaching for his head.

Crimson warmth soaks the side of his mask, a small indent visible. He has definite brain damage, and your heart sinks at that fact. What will he be like after this?

“Let me help.” You’re whispering to yourself, mainly, because you assumed he’d let you. But he protests.

“No,” His voice is still low and gruff, trying to continue being the brave man he knows he can be.

“I have gauze, and blood clotting agents.” Turning you shuffle through your pack, retrieving a fresh pair of latex gloves.

Immediately, you’re dousing him in a cool saline solution, watching his body writhe softly from it. But before wrapping any of his wounds, you focus on his head first. Leaning forward, your hands swipe across the hard skull covering his face, sloppily wiping away the blood and dirt. But your actions become frantic, fingers sliding over your lover’s face in an attempt to see him again, to look into his eyes despite this misfortune. Simon listens to your gasps and pants, emotional huffs spilling from your lips. In your panicked state, the gloves break. And in any other setting, you'd care about this cross-contamination. But you don’t even hesitate. The mud sticks to your fingers, Simon’s blood caking beneath your nails as you continue to clean him. Seeing him laid out like this, body free of any movement, any sort of intention, it’s pulling at your soul. It’s not him, he’s leaving you.

“I need to see.”

He just ignores you, right hand reaching down toward his belt. It’s the only limb that hasn’t been mutilated, and he uses it to detach his mags. Moving as best he can, he hands them to you, round after round of bullets without a single word leaving his lips. And what really breaks you, what finally does you in, is the sound of him gurgling quietly on his own liquid insides. It’s now that every emotion breaks free, every single feeling you’d been bottling up and pushing aside, each one obliterates the firm dam of your determination and pride.

“Here.” He grunts, “Ammo.”

“Stop.” It’s all you can say because if you speak any more, you’re sure you’ll just embarrass yourself.

“Bones.” He states firmly, the eye not swollen shut staring up at you with… something. He’s thinking.

“Stop, Simon.”

“Please.” He pleads with you quietly, watching the first tear roll down your face.

“Simon… let me see, let me help.” Reaching forward again, you watch the rise and fall of his chest, you watch as it slows. He was right, the lungs give everything away.

Squirming, his head turns to the side. “Simon, please. I need to - I need to take off your mask.”

The pain he’s experiencing is at a level he’s not felt in quite some time. His insides burn, feeling stiff around the shrapnel penetrating his muscle. And the injury to his head is making him feel fuzzy. Every time he looks up at you, you are surrounded by a black fog. His vision is leaving him, but he still sees you.

A burst of memory overcomes him when he turns back in your direction, forcing breath after painful breath into his lungs. Replacing you is the vision of his mother, beautiful brown curls and dark brown eyes, the very eyes she’d given to him. The child in him wants to reach out, only to see her pull away. In her stead is now his father, fist slamming into him. Her neglect, her absence, while his father abused him like this, it’s all he can really remember. Trauma is funny like that, deciding which memories to banish and which ones to keep. It’s similar to the way he remembers school, the bullying, the loneliness that always seemed to chase his very being. Life was never something to be enjoyed, just motions to move through.

But then he met you, and you made life exciting. Exciting in a way that wasn’t dangerous, exciting in a way that made him feel at home, at peace. Your love, your memories, are what’s most important to him now. The first time you met, the first intimate moment you shared. Smoking together, sleeping together, caring for and protecting each other. Simon can remember a specific moment now, one of his favorites.

“It’s kinda funny,” He’d quirked a brow at you beneath the covering, listening to you continue. “I know you better than your own government documents.”

He’d laughed at this, because you were right.

“Don’t get cocky about it, now.” Simon chastised lightly, eyes crinkling ever so slightly with a hidden smile.

“I wish there was more, though.”

“How do you mean?”

“You do so much, so many important things. There should be more record of you, more details about your life, babe. You’re an impressive man, people should know about that.”

And while your words made his pride swell a little larger, he only sighed. “That’s part of the job, sweets. Anonymity.”

Smiling, you leaned forward, slinking your arms around his neck. “Maybe, but not to me.” Kissing the tip of his nose, you whispered, “You’ll always be important to me.”

Simon never planned on being remembered. There was no one he was willing to give that burden to. But, selfishly, he wants to be remembered by you.

“Baby,” When your voice cracks, Simon blinks, those dark eyes watching the flow of your silent tears. “Please let me.”

And he thinks, how is she going to remember me like this? A man without a face? And so, he decides to give this to you. There’s nothing left to lose. He knows you’re taking it off to help him, but he’s allowing it for different reasons; call it a parting gift.

When he doesn’t respond this time, your fingers find the edge of his mask. With a great amount of hesitancy, they curl beneath the dampened fabric, lifting it slowly. One by one, each feature is revealed. His chin and jawline, his lips, all traits you’ve seen and openly admired many times before. But then there’s his nose, something you’ve never seen in its entirety. There’s a deep scar running right across the bridge of it, cutting down into his cheek. And as you continue on, you can barely handle the violent thump of your heart’s beat.

Finally, the fabric falls from his head, revealing to you his identity, Simon’s true self.

Surprisingly, you smile. His hair is blonde, straight and not too long. Absentmindedly, you lift a hand, fingers stroking carefully through the messy strands. A laugh leaves you, some sort of twisted happiness found in this moment. And then your eyes lower, finding his steadfast gaze. Languidly, he blinks, blonde lashes fanning over his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” He admits, coughing. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, seeing me.”

“You’re so perfect.” Leaning further in, your hands cup his face. He doesn’t even mind the tears that drip down onto his skin. “Simon.”

“Just know that I do…” Trailing off, Simon shakes his head, releasing an emotional breath. “Love you.”

“I love you,” Releasing any sense of restraint, you express, “I love you more than anything.”

You’re choosing not to look at his head because you know it's bad, you know it. And there’s nothing you can do for him with what you have. He needs more than saline and wraps for this.

“So,” Grunting, he again lifts his right hand. “Think you’ll be needing this.”

With a harsh yank, he rips one of the circular metals from the chain around his neck. And your heart sinks, pulse thumping in your ears. As best he can, he reaches across his body, holding it out for you.

“Give it to Price.”

“That’s not how this is going to end.”

“And then,” Continuing about his task, Simon sets the silver coin on your lap. “You can keep the other.”

“Simon.”

“It’s not much but, if you want to remember me…”

“Simon Riley.” You want him to stop talking like this, you’d do anything to stop this.

Barely, he nods, a single shift of his head as he tells you gruffly, “Yours.”

His eyes stay open until the life seemingly leaves, stare going blank mere seconds after that promise. Without thinking, your fingers curl around the identification sitting in your lap, your other hand still holding his handsome face. But it then leaves, nails digging into the mask lying beside him as your head drops, hanging loosely over your chest. A guttural sob is then released, your insides tearing you open and leaving you emotionally defenseless. Sucking in a thick gulp of air, you know what you need to do. Preserving Simon’s dignity and anonymity, you slide the mask over him again, hiding his face from the enemy. And from you, once again.

Simon,

I still wear your dog tags tag, I never take it off. It stays beneath my shirt when I sleep, when I go to work. It’s cold, like your mask. I still don’t know where that is, Price won’t tell me. But I stole your cologne, they didn’t get that. I think that would make you laugh. You used to make me laugh.

I don’t know what to do now, or where to go. I just think of you.

Strangely, it helps. You know he’ll never write back, but that’s not really the point. This is about you, and it does help… sometimes. Although, Simon never believed in an afterlife, you’re not writing to anyone. This was just something a therapist on base suggested, an exercise to help with your grief. Words you’ve begged life itself to say to him, to be able to speak to him again.

At times, you’re angry. With yourself and with him. You were a distraction, Johnny knew it, Price probably knew it. You did this to him. And at the same time, your extended mourning is his doing, too. He didn’t give you anything, not a burial site to visit, no ashes to keep. Nothing that allows you to visit him, or at least visit his memory. Simon always wanted to be cremated, have his ashes scattered who knows where. Nowhere important, somewhere to forget. He didn’t get the chance to change these plans after meeting you, though, and he’d regret that.

The funeral was small, smaller than it should have been considering he died in battle and with honors. There was no way of avoiding a celebration, though, no matter how much he’d protested to it in life. But if there was one thing Simon definitely wanted, it was to be as far away from Manchester as possible; he never wanted to go back there. And with each of you carrying his casket on your shoulders, you made sure of that. He was honored on the training field back at base, body tucked away in a coffin before being cremated. The ceremonial move of the reversed arms was performed, your heads bowed in respect. It was only the four of you with him, the closest thing to family he’d ever really known. The Union Flag covered the finished pine, and you thought, how many more layers of fabric would keep you from seeing him?

Taking your newest letter, you get to your designated Jeep and drive. Every time, you go back to your secret little spot, the place where you’d connected so many times. You even sit in the backseat, the one behind the driver’s side. That’s where you always sat with him.

The stare you give this hand-written note might as well burn holes into it, the edge of your cigarette threatening to do so if your eyes don’t. Packs of nicotine laced joints have found their way to you quite often since Simon’s death, more and more every day. It tastes like him, his lips.

Sometimes, late at night, the boys still hear you cry. You try to do most of it in the shower, drowning out your tears with the louder noise. Throughout the day, you’ll keep it inside, and they’ve all noticed. You’re blank, rendered nearly emotionless as you move through the motions of each day.

But what’s more important during the night, is him. If you drink enough, you can see him - you swear it. His eyes staring down at you, blinking, body laying beside you on the bed. He holds you. He’ll kiss the back of your neck, tell you I do, I love you. His palm presses to your own, fingers intertwining before he pulls it to him, covered lips moving to the back of your hand. Everything is a memory, but you refuse this. Simon loves you, he comes back just to tell you. You’ll always be thankful you told Simon that you love him.

Johnny takes a sudden special interest in you. For weeks, he hesitates to approach your door when he hears you cry. But he finally caves when he passes by the washrooms one night, a night where the boys have gone for a drink and the base is all but empty.

Initially, he thought you were hurt. With how hard you were sobbing, breaths tight and airy, he was sure you were injured. Bursting through the doors, he found you on the ground of one of the shower stalls.

“Lass, wha - ”

But there was nothing, no blood, no broken glass or anything that could have brought you harm. And then, he sees it, the pile of your personal belongings. Your shower bag and towel are sitting on the closest bench, with a few items scattered on the floor. And Johnny doesn’t know much about pregnancy, but he knows a test when he sees one.

“Bones…”

“He’s fucking gone,” Your voice is hoarse from your wailing, form crumpled and laying on the wet tile while water sprays over you. “Why couldn’t he have left me something? Anything?!”

It’s negative.

In a last attempt to save something, to preserve any part of him, you’d taken the test. Several, actually. But it’s futile; there’s truly nothing left of him.

How could you feel so fucking empty? So lost? What was the meaning of life now? What was the meaning before you met him? There was nothing before him.

Johnny picked you up off the floor that night, leaning in to first turn off the shower before bending at the knees to wrap you in your towel. You let him carry you; with the break in your heart you didn’t really have much strength left in you. So, you leaned on him, walking with his steps as he guided you back to your room. And he dried you, dressed you, and then he held you.

Nothing was discussed, you didn’t speak about it, him. He just sat there on your bed with you, arms wrapped tight around your body, heaving chests pressed against each other as Soap’s eyes spilled over with tears, too. He let you bury your face into his neck, fingers pulling at the edges of his mohawk. It overtakes you, the grief. The all consuming power of it floods your body, greedy in its conquest as it watches you crumble in defeat.

Johnny made this promise weeks ago, not exactly sure when but he knows it’ll hold true. He’s made a silent vow to Simon; he’ll take care of you.

For a while, you refuse to let Johnny sleep in your room. He had nowhere to rest but your bed and that extra space was for Simon. But then he offered to sleep on the floor one night, admitting quietly that it wasn’t just for you. It was for him, too. So, you let him keep you company, opening up and giving in to your collective misery.

Johnny watched the way you curled up with your pillows, watched your face scrunch as you twisted and turned, trying to find some form of sleep. It only came when your hand found your chest, clutching Simon’s last bit of identification.

Your sergeant found comfort in reading, in literature and even poetry. Some written by war veterans and forever-changed soldiers. One poem in particular spoke to him, and he wanted to give it to you. And for some reason, it offered you incredible solace; it so deeply reminds you of Simon.

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England. There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;

A body of England’s, breathing English air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;

And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Rupert Brooke

Waking up is difficult, but getting out of bed is actually pretty easy. It’s only because you've been running on auto-pilot, relying on your routines to keep you moving. Johnny said it’s good for you, consistency, and he’s right. He’s really helped keep you together these past few months. At times, Simon helps, but there’s only so much he can do.

The nightmares come and go, and so do the terrors. You’ll wake up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating with tears running down your face and neck. But more often than not, it’s pure psychological torture. The nightmares occur far more often, and you know what? The meaning behind them is true. Some awful creature sitting on your chest, pressing down onto your body so you’re unable to breathe properly, staring at your face as its intentions wriggles inside your head, creating hellscapes you never otherwise could have imagined. That’s exactly what it feels like, it’s exactly what you go through.

Psychologists define it as post-traumatic stress, and you’ve come to accept that. At first, you’d tell them every detail, every new event. The occurrence of you taking a pregnancy test, that’s a new predicament, a new attempt at preserving him. Maybe one day, it’ll be positive. Nevertheless, you don’t tell them as much anymore. It’s all the same, anyway.

There have been some changes recently, mainly toward the medical rooms. Courtesy of Captain Price, you’ve been given a private office. The room you’d been in originally, the one that overlooked the training yard, is now solely used for training-related events. Sprains and torn muscles, extra ice packs and wraps, water bottles and energy packs. Quick things for the boys to grab.

Where do the injured men and women go?

Now, you have a full infirmary. One hall with several beds and then four private rooms for those with longer stays, too. That’s where you’re headed today, room number three, specifically.

Tying your hair back and washing your face gives you the appearance of alertness, something you desperately need. Quite often, you find yourself lacking sleep. It also helps to not have sticky, tear-stained cheeks. You’re not sure when that will subside, but you’re not expecting it to happen anytime soon. Overwhelming emotions find you even when in his company.

After breakfast and an entire bottle of water, you make your way to the hospital wing, readying yourself for the day’s work. It shouldn’t be too difficult, though; things are looking up. But before leaving the mess hall, you grab an extra orange. Simon always loved those.

It’s quiet here, something you really love. It gives everyone the opportunity to focus on rest. Which is exactly why you open the door so quietly, peaking in to make sure you didn’t wake him. But he’s already up.

“Bones,”

“Hi, baby.”

The fruit in your hand is quickly made known, Simon’s reflexes ever-present. His right hand catches it with ease, setting it down on his lap so he can lift his mask.

“I can help, you know.”

“Uh-uh,” Already, he’s lifting it to his mouth and biting into the skin with his teeth. Using this method, he peels it.

“Savage.”

“Inventive.” He corrects, “That’s what you mean.”

It’s early still, and you’re the only one making rounds to him. You’ve given the remaining tasks in the hospital wing to your employees - you’re here for him. And so, you swing your chair over to his bedside, sitting and leaning forward to rest your arms and head beside him.

The hospital bedding has been shifted upward, allowing him to sit up as he eats. He’s shirtless, in nothing but boxers and his mask, with two dog tags on his chest.

“How are you?”

“Hungry as hell.”

“They didn’t feed you?!” Sitting up, you immediately become appalled and enraged.

“Sit down, soldier.” Simon laughs, shaking his head. “They fed me.”

“And you’re still hungry?” With a smirk, you raise a brow at him as he just shrugs. A sigh then leaves your shaking head. “Growing boy.”

“Yeah, thanks to all this.” He’s still grumpy about it, how could he not be? “Have to regrow an entire damn body.”

He’s being dramatic, but… not really.

Quietly, you admire him, allowing your love to eat in silence. You’re both used to it, the peaceful calm surrounding your interactions. It was something you always agreed on; why have meaningless conversation when you can just enjoy each other’s presence?

His arm is wrapped, and both legs. The best surgeons the military could find enabled him to keep all four limbs, a true godsend. He hasn’t been able to move them much, though, as he’s only just started physical therapy. Easy movements for now, just wiggling fingers and toes. There’s also the task of his cognitive therapy, mainly exercises for focus and short-term memory. It’s been difficult, to say the least, but you’ve been with him through it, been to every appointment and therapy session.

“You’re quiet.” He notes, still snacking.

Timidly, you nod, not searching for his gaze. And at this he sighs, notes of sympathy in his breath. He knows what’s bothering you.

“More dreams?” Simon asks quietly, staring down at the woman he loves.

Simply, you nod, tears welling in your eyes all over again.

Simon’s recovery has been difficult, and for everyone involved. It took quite a few weeks of convincing both Price and your doctors that you were fit to care for him. Your mental state was just… shattered. And you’re still picking up the pieces.

“Baby,” The way he says it makes your heart jolt with emotion, with an incredible sense of longing. It’s spoken so softly, so sweetly, that deep voice rumbling kindly. And just like always, it’s successful in requesting your attention. “What happened?”

Wiping his hand on the bedsheets (he knows they’ll be changed anyway), he reaches for you. Just like before, in the painful memory of your dreams, his fingers intertwine with yours, palm pressing to your own while dragging it up to his lips. And then he presses them to the back of your hand, eyes focusing on you.

“Talk to me.”

“You died,” Finally giving in, you speak. You’ve done this many times, and it’s never easy. But Simon insists that talking about these dreams will help. “Again.”

“Hm.” He nods, humming thoughtfully, giving you room to speak.

“Your funeral, ya know, the basics.” Rolling your eyes, you groan. These nightmares are everything you despise, everything you fear. “Johnny was there, too. I smoked a lot, just to remind myself of you. Wore your dog tag, held it at night. And that’s when you’d visit me; I had visions of you, Si. Laying in my bed, holding me, telling me you love me.”

“I do.”

“I know you do.” Lifting your head, your genuine smile is displayed to him. “I, um… I took a pregnancy test in this one.”

“That’s new.”

“I know. It was negative though, and it was so heartbreaking. I just… wanted to preserve any part of you.”

The way your voice wavers forces his muscles to tighten, discomfort wreaking havoc on his body. Seeing you like this fucking breaks him. That mission should’ve never even happened, but at least it was successful in the end.

“I’m here, though, love. I’m still here.”

He knows not sleeping next to each other has been one of the biggest issues for you. Feeling his weight, it was a comforting thing that easily lulled you to sleep. And his absence often brought on these terrifying dreams.

“I know, baby.” Nodding, you sniffle, doing your best to not release your silent weeps. He’s right, he’s here. Everything is alright, you’re both healing and you’re together. That’s all that matters now.

Contemplating his next decision, Simon grunts, sitting up straighter on his bed. Releasing your hand, he then reaches for your chin. Your lips bloom into a smile as he tilts your head up toward him, his lips, jawline, and chin visible to you. And Christ, how you wish you could see more. You can vaguely remember his face, the features he showed you before what he was sure was certain death. But it’s traumatic to recall it, and he’s refused to show himself to you ever since. The injury to his brain has made him… insecure, in a way. He hasn’t even kissed you since all of it.

“Have a surprise for ya.” He then reveals, smacking his lips while swallowing the last bit of fruit available to him.

“Really?” Doubt laces your tone. What could he have possibly done for you in this condition?

“C’mup here.” Simon grins, pulling you in. Standing, you shift your position, now sitting on the edge of his bed.

“What is it?” Giggling, you eye him suspiciously. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

Clearing his throat, Simon looks down, taking his hand away as he grabs the edges of his mask. You assume he’s going to pull it back down, now that he’s finished eating his morning snack. But you’re wrong, eyes widening as he does the exact opposite of that.

Jaw dropping entirely, you stare in awe as he removes the soft skull, slowly sliding the black fabric from his head. It brushes through his hair, eyelids lowered as he refuses to meet your gaze for the briefest second. He knows he looks different than before, hair still trying to grow back in the spot of his injury. There’s a new cut that runs down his face, too, the upper left side of his temple. But he should know you don’t care about any of that, he’s hoping you don’t, anyway.

And when he looks back up into your eyes, he can see a profound sense of love. Love and adoration, determination, true friendship and connection.

“Miss me?” The cheeky bastard, lips pulled into a grin with his blonde hair disheveled and looking cute as all hell. But more importantly, his hair is clean, so much cleaner than the first time you’d seen him, no longer stained red and pink.

“You fucker,” Shaking your head, you lean in, holding his face and pressing your forehead to his.

Simon audibly winces when his arms move, small grunts of frustration spilling from him. His right arm easily wraps around your body, firmly pulling you in. But his left barely budges, and it’s so embarrassing to him. But his struggles pause when you shift, lips pressing to his and melting away every single unpleasant sensation. It’s a distraction, you’re a fucking distraction. But it’s a good thing this time.

“You know I did.”

The moment is broken when a knock sounds at the door, and you can’t hop off his bed fast enough. Moments later, Price walks in, a stack of documents in his hand.

“Captain.” You greet, standing straight for him and trying not to look suspicious.

Unmoving on the bed, Ghost just nods. “Price.”

“Good,” John steps forward, “You’re both here. Give these a look for me.”

Watching him drop the papers onto your desk, you frown. “What are those?”

“HR documents,” He begins, staring at the stack before turning his attention to both of you. “For workplace relationships.”

Your face couldn’t feel hotter.

He then points a finger at the pair of you, stating firmly, “Sign ‘em.” Before turning to leave.

Well, there’s no hiding it now.

#Simon Riley #Simon “Ghost” Riley #Simon Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley x female reader #Call of Duty #Call of Duty mw2 #Call of Duty fanfiction

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tired-fandom-ndn · 2 months

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The Vees, after dating Alastor for a while and having no idea what he likes in bed, resorting to asking his friends for help.

Answers ranging for Rosie giving them a "you should talk to him about that" while knowing full well Alastor just isn't ready for them to see his tail, Mimzy admitting Alastor was a cuckhold in life (she assumed the Vees already knew about the murder-cannibalism stuff), Nifty misunderstanding the question and explaining how Alastor likes his bed made, and then there is Husk who cheerfully tells them (and if anyone ask, they didn't hear it from him) that Alastor has a big thing for being leashed, just loves it, just the mention of being on a leash makes Alastor go wild.

HOW DID YOU READ MY MIND, ANON? Like I have been thinking about the Vees going to Rosie and Alastor's other friends for advice this entire time lmao

Rosie's advice is mostly just "talk to him" but she also does give like. General advice for getting him to trust them with some pointed jabs about how she knows him sooooooo much better than they ever will. Also maybe some invitations to have lunch with her to talk, supposedly because Alastor asked her to help with making them proper overlords but it's mostly because she wants to see them try to choke down their meals at her favorite cafe. She's still their most reliable source of information.

Okay okay okay but wrt to Mimzy "she assumed the Vees already knew about the murder-cannibalism stuff" makes me think of my favorite headcanon which is that Velvette (and maybe Valentino) does NOT actually know about the murder-cannibalism thing but every bit of advice they're getting is based on them having that base level of knowledge lmao. Mimzy dances around how she and Alastor met and how they became friends (probably via murder) but she's more than happy to tell them that Alastor always seemed to prefer to watch. Maybe she knows what asexuality is and that it applies to Alastor, maybe she doesn't, she'd say the same thing either way. She doesn't even bother warning them how much he hates being touched without permission, they'll figure it out the hard way (Valentino loses an arm or two before he catches on).

Niffty goes in EXTREME detail about Alastor's bedtime habits. How he likes his bed being made, but also the materials he prefers for his bedding (silk pillowcases are NON-NEGOTIABLE), what he wears to bed (full pajamas before he gets comfortable where he's at and who he's with, boxers once he's comfortable because his fur gets HOT at night), how he likes to fall asleep to the radio, and his general bedtime routine. As his trusted housekeeper and friend, she knows EVERYTHING about his daily routine and while it's not what the Vees wanted when they asked her, it was. . . suprisingly helpful? Alastor just about melts the first time he actually stays the night with them and Valentino turns on his favorite radio station.

GOD the Husk one is perfect though, he absolutely fucking would. He tells them alllllll about how Alastor just loooooooves being leashed and controlled and dominated, it's his FAVORITE thing and he's totally fine just jumping right in without any prior discussion. Husk and Angel watch from the hotel with a bowl of popcorn as half of V Tower is blown to bits. Alastor storms back into the hotel, throws up a shield, and disappears into his room for several days. Husk would feel bad if he thought that the Vees would've gotten anywhere but he knows that Alastor wrecked their shit the moment he saw a leash or collar. Their relationship will be fine and, if it isn't, then Al's better off anyway.

#Anonymous #poly vees #vee!alastor #hazbin hotel

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kimtaegis · 7 months

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I'm going to try to explain this as coherently as I can. I want Jungkook to do his thing, but at the same time, it is bothering me so much that his thing seems to be basic, crass songs about sex. Like, brother in Christ, there is a nuanced, fun, genuinely sexy way to do explicit songs that doesn't read thoughtless, fuckboi nonsense. Hello, "My Time," get off the floor, my love?! I hated Seven, but 3D is making me feel like I was harsh on her. At least Latto has flow and brings energy. WHY, for the love of all things holy, did anyone green light Jack Harlow rapping about AGB????!!!! I was LIVID because have we not had enough of white men fetishizing Asian women. And there weren't even any Asian women in the MV!!! And then the optics of the women being lined up beside him one by one. WHO OKAYED THIS???? The members as a group and in their solo work have dabbled with explicit lyrics, sex, etc. But it has never felt like this "fuck it to hell, I wanna be famous and I'll do it in the easiest way possible, lemme talk about champagne confetti." Are you serious??? This man gave us "Still With You." And I do hold Jungkook responsible for a fair amount of it. He's 26 and obviously gets final say on the final product. I get that he wants to be seen as a grown up, but all I'm seeing is the equivalent of the Nickelodeon/ Disney kids going ham to break the image. This ain't it, okay? And if the rumours I'm hearing about his EP are true, it's going to be a hard pass for me. I have never recoiled from a song that came from BTS or a member the way I have with Jungkook's singles so far. I'm aghast at his potential (which he has showcased so much in past) being squandered on this run-of-mill, brainless, nonsense. Sure, he'll get the numbers, it's going straight to radio and this fandom is bleeting in unison like sheep possessed. But he's lost a lot of my respect for him.

you expressed yourself well and I can sympathise with your negative feelings and where they’re coming from… I honestly am just as shocked about harlow’s rap being greenlit both from the team behind but also from jungkook himself. it makes me wonder once again how much he was actually involved in everything simply because I hate the thought of him being aware of the lyrics and letting them through on the nod… you can very much make a light, fun, sexy song without putting problematic phrases and innuendos in it. again, it all comes back to nuance in pretty much all aspects of this whole song discussion. wanting to be seen as mature/ as a grown-up also means taking responsibility for everything that’s put out in your name (with your consent ofc). we could probably talk about this for hours on end though and unfortunately it doesn’t change much cause as you said at the end, there’re enough people who simply do not care about all of this, blindly support their fave artist and want to vibe. I saw that 3D (edit: the version with JH) is currently number three on spotify global right after Seven, so yeah. numbers equal success, success means the support and demand is there, and so the chances are high that he will keep going in this direction, I’m afraid. but let’s wait for his album, he’s been full of surprises, maybe he’ll surprise once more, and this time in a more positive way, again

#the only thing I can’t agree with is that My Time is a nuanced fun and very sexy song – it’s actually deep af and his mots one performances #had so many layers to it that many fans didn’t (want) to recognise because his chest was out #but that doesn’t really matter for the matter in hand ofc #anon #annie’s mail #long post

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max1461 · 11 months

Text

I don't want to keep discoursing on evilsoup's post, so I'll make a new home for this sub-discussion here. To reproduce the relevant bits:

@max1461 (me) said:

I find that a lot of anti-anti-civ discourse revives (or perhaps merely continues, since they never really died) the cheapest fallacies of Whig history. There's not merely an acknowledgement of the (true, I believe) fact that industry and modern medicine make the lives of their beneficiaries much better, there is an implicit de facto and sometimes almost giddy dismissal of the value of all that came before. You get the feeling reading a lot of anti-anti-civ commentary that people are itching to condemn anything and everything of the past, and more troublingly any way of life that they personally view as obsolete, just for the sake of it. Just for the discourse thrills. It's reductive and it's unpleasant to engage with.

@sabakos said:

Honestly I have to say that indoor plumbing and modern medicine is good enough that I'd gladly torch even more of what came before and gladly spit in the face of anyone who tried to complain about it. Hypothetically, if the Ancient Greek language had had to be lost for modern plumbing to appear I'd flush the last manuscript of Plato down the toilet and lose no sleep over it. Fortunately, it didn't, but if it did it wouldn't matter.

You can't name one thing that even comes close to billions of people not dying of cholera or starving to death. So it's not surprising that people are eager to shit all over anyone who tries.

@max1461 said:

This is fine but it's totally orthogonal to my point. You acknowledge that Ancient Greek did not in fact have to be lost in order to get modern plumbing, but then gloss over this as if it's a minor aside. No! My point is that internet Whig history enthusiasts sometimes seem to be out to shit on anything and everything that strikes them as obsolete even when it does not need to be lost for the benefits of modern life to be enjoyed, for reasons that seem to me more aesthetic than anything else. Surely not everyone does this, but it's a common enough phenomenon to get on my nerves.

@sabakos said:

It's clearly something that bothers you, so maybe you could give some examples? Because this is all very abstract and I have no idea what you're talking about - based on what you've said here I don't think I've encountered this sort of guy despite being ideologically very similar to how you describe them!

---

There are actually people who think Ancient Greek (read: Inuktitut, Gan Chinese, Oromo) has to die for us all to get indoor plumbing! This is not actually an uncommon shape of opinion for people to hold, in the world at large. There are of course two versions of this, one more harmful than the other but both destructive: "we have to stop wearing kimono and start wearing suits or the Great Powers will never respect us", and "you have to stop holding potlatches in order to become civilized like us".

The point is not that these claims suppose different values than you or I hold, the point is that they are wrong, factually wrong. Unexamined Whig history of the sort which, as I said, sneers at anything that gives off vague whiffs of being "traditional" is making a set of factual errors. It's also often used cynically (as in the second example above) to advance political ends, but that's not really what I'm talking about here. What I'm talking about are people who seem to have a reflexive distaste for anything that appears to them overly sympathetic to the old, any cause with preservationist or restorationist undertones, even when it in no way conflicts with people enjoying the benefits of modern technology. This kind of thinking does active harm in the world. Random tumblr users are of course not likely doing any harm by engaging in it, given that tumblr discourse obviously has no political sway. But it's still frustrating to see a stance that is both incorrect and harmful so casually taken up over (what I perceive to be) petty discourse bouts.

Sometimes, old things are fine, and wanting to keep doing them is fine. When people oppose this, especially on reflexive, aesthetic grounds, I think it is bad.

To be clear, I've never seen anyone in this conversation (you or triv) do any of what I've described here. But I do see it a lot and it kind of drives me up the wall.

#society

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ivymyers · 10 months

Text

Problematic (Bucky x Reader)

ig I just like writing about bad things happening to y/n :,)

(There’s a part where I reference Bucky’s hands. Just know one is the metal arm, I just didn’t know how else to say it.)

I honestly don’t know what insanity made me write this but here it is.

Also, don’t expect anything from me for about a week, I’ll be on a vacation.

SOMEONE GIVE ME A REQUEST I’M BORED. (I’ll literally write almost anything)

Around 2.1k words.

Warnings: torture, injury, agnst, Hydra, mentions of death, mentions of rape, low self esteem, anxiety, nightmares (seriously, don’t read if it’s going to bother you)

—-----

You had stuck with your boyfriend Bucky for so long. When he had nightmares you always comforted him, when his panic attacks got bad you always calmed him, and when he needed to talk you were there. For the two years you had been together you both supported each other. The pair of you were inseparable, the time either of you were away on missions away from each other was actually painful.

[In the meeting room]

“Hyra base. That’s our next mission.” Tony stated. “I’m sending Sam, Clint, and y/n on this one. It’ll be just a quick in and out. You’ll be clearing the area out, it should be relatively small. We’ve done a scan of the base from above and it seems like this should be a quick trip. Sam, come in from above, we want a nice view of the action. You shouldn’t have to do too much. Clint, you will be taking shots from a distance. y/n, you will be on the ground fighting. I’m confident that you can handle a few Hydra soldiers” He winked in your direction. “Questions?”

Bucky was the first one to speak, “Yea, why is y/n the only one out there?”

“Did you not just listen? I swear Barnes you only hear when y/n’s name is mentioned. It’s a small mission and I’m sending THREE avengers. That’s more than enough.”

“Buck I can take care of myself, I'll be fine.” You chimed in.

“Y/n is one of our strongest magic users. She’s more than capable. Now that we’ve all discussed Barnes’s separation anxiety, any real questions?” Tony went on. “Great. We leave at 6:00 am tomorrow.”

[Later that night]

“Bucky- we went over this. You have too much of a tie to Hydra. I can handle this.”

“Y/n. I really think I should go with you. I know how to deal with them, I don't trust the situation. Something doesn’t sit right with me.” Bucky began to raise his hands as he does whenever he gets worked up.

“Are you saying I can’t do this?”

“Of course not it’s just-”

“I’m going to bed, Buck. I need to be up early. Don’t bother sending me off the two-day mission that I’m not capable of protecting myself on.”

“Jesus y/n. If you put it that way then maybe I won’t. I’ll see you in two-days then. You can be so…problematic.”

It was just a fight. A small one, nothing you couldn’t handle. Bucky kept his word the next morning. His last words to you sticking to your skin like dew drops to a leaf. You’d fix it when you got back, right?

Except you wouldn’t get the chance to you. There were way more soldiers than you’d anticipated. Bucky was more than right to worry. Hydra had you cornered and there was nothing you could do as they dragged you away.

San got the whole thing on camera as he was scouting from above. All the team could do was watch as one of the strongest Avengers was helplessly dragged away.

Bucky didn’t know what to do. The last words he exchanged with you were in anger. The frustration built up and began to eat at his insides. He knew Hydra better than anyone on the team. If they did anything close to you what they did to him- he didn’t want to imagine it.

Meanwhile you were taken and tied up in a metal chair in a stark white room. Your magic did not work when you tried. The whole place looked clean and was decently large for you being the only one in there. Then you remembered. Hydra.

You didn’t have any information about secret plans or missions or tech or anything to share. So when the torture began your screams echoed and there was no ammunition you had to counter you painful days and sleepless nights. No breaks, just constant hurt. All while Bucky’s words ran through your head over and over and over and over.

Problematic. That was he had seen you.

You weren’t sure how long you had been there for. But sometime into your stay things began to get even worse. They gave you minimal food and water. They began to torment your nights as well by splashing water over you while dead asleep. Waking you with beatings or weapons. But the worst of it by far was the sexual abuse. They raped you countless times as you struggled against their strength. It became too much to bear.

The room was now covered in blood. They hadn’t once cleaned an inch of the space you were in. The metallic scent was always in your noise and the crust of dried red followed your eyes to every corner. But by now you were used to the smell and your vision was blurring from malnourishment anyway.

When you weren’t concerned over when your next meal would come or when the next attack would happen, Bucky filled your mind. Did he care? Was he thinking of you? Or was he glad his problem was gone. The thought of it alone was almost worse than the torture.

You had nothing left.

But then gunshots were heard from outside your room. And through your hazy self could barely process when Bucky broke down the door. He held your barely breathing body in his hand as you struggled the most you could, which was not very hard.

“No…no, no. Stop. Let me go. Not again…” You whispered barely audible.

“Love, it’s me Bucky. I’m not going to hurt you darling.” His heart broke when hearing your cries. He knew exactly what hydra could do to a person.

He sat there with you until Sam and Tony came through and saw the two of you and told him to carry you back.

On the ride back Bucky held you in his arms. Running his fingers through your hair he was beginning to stress whether you would even make it. Your pulse was faint and you had so much blood all over you. He couldn’t tell which wounds were currently open and which ones were old. Your broken lifeless body was painful for him to look at, yet he couldn’t seem to look away.

[Back at Avengers Tower]

You opened your eyes to no blood on the walls and IVs in your arms. The room was slightly larger than the one you were in before. But something felt different about this room. The door opened and you shut your eyes tight as they went and pulled the covers that you didn’t have before up to your face.

Your breaths came short and fast and visions of what happened before shot through your memory. The pain. The humiliation. The shame. What horrors would you face now?

“Y/n you’re awake! Oh, hey, hey. It’s just me. Bruce see? You’re home.”

His voice flooded your senses and you began to calm. Wait. Did he say home? You moved the covers from your face to see the Avenger who had patched you up as best he could since you had returned. Sure enough it was a friendly face you were met with. You stared at him in return.

“You really took a beating out there y/n. Do you want me to go over your medical reports with you now or wait for Bucky to be here too so that I won’t have to repeat it.”

When you didn’t respond he knew something was really wrong. Obviously they had tortured you physically, but something was broken in your mind as well.

When you saw his reaction you plastered a smile on your face and told him to bring him in, hoping Bruce didn’t see your smile fall as he left the room. Being alone suddenly became scary, you were so used to only preparing for the next visit that all you could do was listen to your own heartbeat when Bruce left.

You didn’t hear the door open. But you felt Bucky’s strong body crash into your weak one. What you did hear was Bruce saying he’d give you some alone time.

“Bucky…”

“Oh doll…” his voice trembled as he spoke. Bucky’s hand shook as he reached out to touch your face.

You flinched at his touch and in that moment he thought of every possible type of pain Hydra could’ve put you through. His eyes glistened with tears and he saw how frail you looked.

You jumped when Bruce opened the door again. “Ready to go over the medical reports?”

You had a broken ankle, two bruised ribs, one broken rib, three broken fingers, a sprained wrist,. a dislocated leg, stab wounds, a minor concussion, and countless cuts and bruises. Not to mention a black eye.

Suddenly, Bucky inhaled, stood up and left the room.

Deep down you felt something snap. You felt a mix of emotions. Did Bucky not want you anymore? Were you really that broken?

Bruce followed Bucky and you left with your own tears. After one week in the room, Bruce and the doctors they assigned to let you go back to you and Bucky’s room as long as you came for daily checkups.

[Later that night, first night back in your room]

As soon as sleep drifted upon you the nightmares began to torture you. Memories and fear alike, this was the first time sleep became such a punishment for you.

You awoke in a scream of terror and to Bucky holding you tears streaming down both of your faces. He held you and rubbed your arms.

“I’m gong to fucking kill every last one of them y/n. You don’t deserve any of this. You hear me.” He whispered into the side of your head.

Again, something in you clicked and you stiffened up. Bucky immediately noticed and pulled away.

You both knew you weren’t going to get any sleep so the two of you stood up to cool down. Then the questions came.

“Doll, tell me what happened. You have to tell me what they did.” He was angry. Not at you, but his rage still scared you. As Bucky kept rambling, hands flying through the air, your eyes got wide and the thoughts of pain and fear came tumbling back into your head and you backed into the wall. Hand at your mouth to silence the tears, you slid down the wall. No noise came from you, yet the sound in your head drowned out everything else.

Bucky turned to face you not knowing what to do.

“Problematic” were the words that you sobbed out when he pulled you into a hug.

“Darling- I never meant those words. I love you with everything I am. How long- Jesus-” He ran his hands through his hair. “How long were you thinking of those words? The truth. Now.” He stared you down.

You looked away, “every goddamn moment.” you mumbled. “I thought of them and you every second I was in there. When I wanted hope all I had was that.”

Guilt seeped through Bucky’s mind, a million different thoughts jumbling together. But you weren’t done.

“They beat me until my bones broke and I needed stitches I never got. They almost drowned me several times. They held me at gunpoint. They told me I was worthless over and over until I believed every word of it, and I still do. They abused me until I was sick- even then didn’t stop. They locked me in a room of corpses and made me spend the night in it. They raped me so much that my skin does more than crawl. Fuck, I’ve been awake for a little over a week now and not one other person besides you and Bruce have even bothered to visit! So forgive me if I’m hurting a little.” You were screaming out your words by the end.

It broke Bucky, The thought that someone else’s hands were on you. The thoughts that they made you think. He trembled from everything you told him.

“Doll…my y/n…I regret every word that I said before you were- God I messed up. You matter more to me than anything else. Don’t ever think you’re worthless. And the rest of the Avengers, they thought it best to give you a little space. I’m so sorry Doll.”

You slammed your body against his and let your tears fall onto him. Clutching onto him, deep down you knew you'd recover with lots time, as long as Bucky was by your side.

----------

Did you like it?

#fanfic #x reader #requests open #requests #fandom #bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #hydra #marvel #marvel fanfics #marvel fanfication

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idleglowingpixels · 1 year

Note

talk about Collector

WHYYYYYYYYYY okay now that I got that off my chest let's get serious LMAO

Before I dive in too deep, to any other ppl reading, THIS IS YOUR FAIR WARNING IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ ANY CRITICISM OF TOH. Something that is really apparent in this fandom particularly is that a lot of ppl refuse to allow and accept genuine criticism discussions, dumbing it down to personal biases, misinterpretations of the text (or in this case, the show), and proclaiming "It's intentional that the show did that!" every time someone breathes something negative about it. This is ESPECIALLY annoying with the "Blame Disney/the shortening" nonsense -- a key skill in television writing is to be capable of working with the allotted time that the studios give you. After they were told Season 3 got cut short, they still had 11 22-minute episodes of Season 2 and all three 40+ minute episodes of Season 3 to conclude the story in a satisfying way.

Seeking and reading criticism posts outside of the general tags, ignoring warnings on posts that give forewarnings, then getting mad and upset that someone criticized your comfort show is generally an unhealthy behavior, especially if you're not in a good mental state. If you can't take people criticizing something you enjoy, and more-so if you deem it your comfort media, and feel the need to bother them because you made yourself upset reading their posts, you've got a lot of soul searching to do. That, or maybe you should log off until you can handle it.

Also, obviously, spoilers ahead for TOH, as well as Amphibia because these shows parallel a lot more than I want them to. :')

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I have a LOT to say about The Owl House from a critical and writing perspective, and I feel like the show is EXTREMELY overhyped for what it actually is. I feel its sister show Amphibia executed much of the same/similar themes better, and that's not even a bias thing. Just from the way both shows are written, you can tell which one feels more competently structured from a narrative standpoint (and, let's be honest, which one is actually funny).

Okay enough about general opinion, let's get to Collector. From a character design perspective, GOD I love this little guy, both the reflection/shadow form and the actual form are distinct from the rest of the cast. I'm a big Sun and Moon design/symbolism enjoyer (Sun and Moon from FNAF, Sun and Blake from RWBY, Celestia and Luna from MLP:FiM, etc.) so these types of characters are always welcome. And while their voice annoys me personally it ABSOLUTELY fits them, so no matter how annoying I find it I don't think I'd want them to have any other voice.

But that, unfortunately, is the only props I can give to Collector.

The show is FULL of redeemed antagonists that range from okay (I'd like to think Amity was decent enough and Hunter was alright but definitely should have been introduced earlier so his redemption was a slow burn but this post isn't about them so I'll end this note here) to "what the actual fuck" (Idc what anyone says, there is no excuses PERIOD, Lilith's redemption was the absolute worst redemption arc I think I've ever seen AND I'VE SEEN CATRA'S), and Collector is very much on the lower end of that scale. We hardly see them overall and their character writing is rushed beyond belief -- and again, I'd like to reiterate that that is ENTIRELY on the writing team for the show. Disney and the shortening DID NOT DECIDE TO KEEP COLLECTOR IN. The writing staff were aware of the time they had left and made the decision to shoehorn them in and expect everyone to just be okay with it.

From a writing perspective, they bloat the story exponentially and 100% should have been left in the drafts or saved for future content like what Dana said she might do if she is able to through books and such. If we only get hints of the other Collectors, this one should have STAYED hints with them.

We have essentially no significant amount of time with them outside of Hollow Mind and the season 2 finale before season 3, and what we DO have of them in season 2B is so drastically different I'd consider 2B Collector and 3 Collector as two different characters entirely. And before you tell me, "They're different because sun/moon symbolism!" "They're different because Belos and King influence them differently!" etc. etc., don't waste your time. Yes, those are good explanations as to why they feel so different between seasons, but that does not make the writing of the character inherently good. Allow me to elaborate:

In S2B, of what little we see of Collector, they are extremely sadistic in nature, and while they appear childish the writing of that lack of care for others is ABUNDANTLY CLEAR. And it seemed that way even as Belos first encountered him as Philip in the flashback episode. There, they weren't yet "influenced" by Belos and his plans; hell, he hardly had an actual plan yet.

Skip ahead to Hollow Mind, easily the best episode of Season 2 imo, and Collector is taunting Belos, mocking him and his schemes. Saying things like "Ooh, you were mad!" and "I'm starting to think you make those [grimwalkers] just to destroy them. You have fun with it, admit it!"

I cannot find any reasonable explanation as to how or why Belos would influence Collector into doing such things. Why would he want a little pain in the ass making fun of him for hundreds of years? And by his response to Collector's taunt about the grimwalkers and Hunter, "Of course I don't, Collector. It hurts every time he chooses to betray me," he took offense to their words, but kept his tone from shifting to anger as he does with everyone else because of Collector's power.

Belos doesn't want Collector thinking he doesn't like them because of their abilities, but he does want to stay on their good side for information. For knowledge of spells. And he puts up with Collector's annoyances because of that.

Essentially, that wasn't something Belos taught them or influenced them to do. All Collector knows is to adapt to their friends' behaviors, yes, but Belos is like, over 400 years old. I don't know about you, but I doubt with the way he speaks and how he's written that he would taunt his underlings in the same childish vain as Collector, and do so enough for Collector to pick up and mimic that behavior.

Now to the finale, their appearance is pretty much just them getting duped by Belos and sent into the depths of the titan skull, where King ever-so-conveniently finds them, making the pinky swear that releases them.

They maintain that mocking attitude even after Belos betrays them, calling King "boring" for calling them Mr. Collector and feeling generally disinterested by King before he promises a game to play. And even after they're released, they continue the attitude further with the whole "I remember someone throwing me off a bridge...I'm not angry, though!" bit, only to send Belos to his "death" moments after, deeming it as a game of tag. They've seen Belos kill grimwalkers first hand, fully aware that their lives mean nothing, and replicated the behavior by returning the favor to Belos (or so they thought). Their lack of care continues when they nearly try to do the same thing to the Hexsquad, people who didn't even do anything to them, before King stops them, changing the subject before they can cause further harm.

After stopping the draining spell, Collector continues the destructive maliciousness they have all the way to the end of the episode, and that's the impression of them we're left with. They were sadistic, uncaring and childish, but only learned the behavior of killing from Belos -- even though Belos didn't actually die, the intent was to kill him, and they were fully planning to continue with the Hexsquad.

And then...We get to Season 3.

Just a side-note, I think it's a safe assumption to say the first 2 seasons of The Owl House took place between roughly 2 months, as Luz was outside waiting to leave for a summer camp after the school year ended before initially arriving in the demon realm. Going off of that assumption, in Part 1 Luz returned to school as she returned to the human realm, presumably in late August/early September due to her living in Connecticut. And since Part 1 takes place in the timespan of about 3-7 days, the last day being Halloween, the timeskip only brought us about 2 more months ahead. Keep this in mind.

After Luz and co. return to the demon realm in Part 2 -- objectively the worst episode of the season -- we already see King's influence on Collector since they turned everyone into puppets instead of actively injuring or killing them when they don't comply. Still bad? Yes. But from how it looks in Part 3 with the Hexsquad, it seems more like the puppets' consciences are just comatose or an alternative to sleeping, maybe in a REM-like state. But of course, the show didn't have enough time to explain that further over all the nonsense in Part 2.

Anyway, when we see Collector in Part 2, they're still being childish, which is unfortunately the only thing that stays consistent with this character. They then say two lines that were the most god-awful writing decisions I've seen in a hot minute, and this show is STOCK FULL of really bad "this is peak humor LAUGH" moments like this.

They say that Eda has this "cool aunt vibe" and such, which sounds like one of those "character dynamics/tropes" posts on social media like Tumblr and whatnot. It comes off as really pretentious in the writing, and was shockingly unfunny to hear for a show that calls itself a comedy. Another line that frustrates me, more-so for lore reasons, is when they ask Odalia to make pizza bagels, when it was previously stated that human food is inaccessible to Luz during her time in the demon realm. So not only is it contradicting that whole thing (Eda actively struggled to find food for Luz that she could eat), how would they or King even know what one is or how to actually make one??

It seems like a small point to get heated over, but it once again feels like one of those stupid one-liners that one of the writers thought was the funniest shit they've ever thought up and kept it in because they knew die-hard fans would just laugh it off and brush it off as a joke, and that the writers forgetting about Eda's maternal struggle to feed her adopted kid is Disney's/the shortening's fault because they're at fault for everything wrong with the show...and not the ppl who wrote it.

Regardless, this whole shtick is extremely out-of-character for the way they had spoken in Season 2, and from what I can recall (I'm not gonna rewatch the entire show for the sake of a single post), King never talks like this. Luz does around him, but he himself doesn't talk like this.

I've discussed with friends before about this, including Robin (the one who asked me to talk about this), but from Part 2 onward Collector gets the same Luz-like writing every character that gets redeemed suddenly dawns out of the blue. I started calling it luz-ification, but it doesn't just happen to Collector.

It happened to Hunter, where his more cocky and ego-centric dialogues from early 2A was dropped for a more "comedic" personality and an anxiety-ridden character, though it's later eluded to that his cocky attitude was him masking his true self, so I try to keep it to that perspective.

But this happened to Lilith as well, where she suddenly started acting like "Cool Aunt Lilith" IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING HER ADMITTING TO CURSING EDA AND ALLOWING HER CAPTURE. WITH NO CONSEQUENCES TO BE FACED OTHER THAN THE CURSE SPLIT WHICH IS HARDLY UTILIZED IN THE SHOW.

(Side-tangent: Characters facing little to no consequences for their actions is something that goes on so much in this show but this is long enough already and I really don't like talking about this shit for long 'cause I could be using my time on better pieces of media, I'm sure there's plenty of posts explaining this point elsewhere by ppl who enjoyed TOH more than me)

Hell, it even happened to Amity for a hot minute. For some moments in the show she's written really off-character and saying things that just completely contradict how she's typically written, but then goes back to the more sassy and balanced character later on.

This post has gotten WAY longer than I wanted it to be, but to keep me from spending even more time on this, Part 2 shows a drastically different Collector, to the point that they do not by any means have the same character writing as they had before. They got luz-ified. Using social media lingo they couldn't even have access to in canon, and being written to quite literally just sound like a mini-me of Luz with the more obnoxious undertones of the childish thing.

Point is, they mimic these behaviors of Luz that they wouldn't even have reasonable access to learning from, because she's in the human realm for almost all the time after their release. It only makes sense in Part 3, when Luz is actually there for them to see her behaviors in action, but even that is so contrived and rushed that it feels unrealistic and narratively unnecessary. Remember what I said before about the timeskip only being 2 months? Yeah, 2 months isn't nearly enough time for a character to fundamentally change who they are as drastically as Collector.

Now to the part where I talk about Amphibia really quick and mention how it did the whole "having an alternative threat acting as a mini-boss" thing a million times better than this shit ever could. King Andrias, paralleling Collector for this particular scenario, is shown relatively early on that he's an antagonist to the audience. It's later revealed as a plot twist not to the audience, but to the characters, who least expected it. They don't waste time trying to throw off the audience with red herrings or telling its audience "He's not a bad guy, he's totally not going to be evil later on." They just show the audience he's evil and keep the story moving.

He's given enough time to feel like this ominous, looming threat, and True Colors masterfully showed how messed up this guy is and the lengths he is willing to go to ascend to the Core and cheat death, just as the souls within the Core had. His motive to avoid death and return Amphibia to the world-conquering ideologies from centuries' past is what made him such a love-to-hate villain. And the motive to cheat death in a children's cartoon? Metal as hell. The Core also parallels Belos here, and further on in Season 3, being the one manipulating Andrias through his fear of death in order to make him do what they want him to.

In the third season, Andrias continues his work by the Core's demands, only giving up in the final battle when he's read a letter from someone he had considered a friend long ago, which admittedly didn't have much set-up but it was at least the focus of an entire episode prior to the big pre-finale.

At the end of the series, he's shown to have moved on, allowing himself to age naturally and to stop using technology to keep him in pristine condition for eternity. He accepted the natural cycle of life, and in turn accepted that he will come to pass one day. He wasn't a perfectly written character, but considering what it's being compared to? Leagues better.

Like I said before, TL;DR, Collector is the bloatware of The Owl House's plot. They were shoved in as a last minute addition because they were the writers' "precious bean silly goose little gremlin blorbo" that they couldn't just keep in the drafts with the rest of the collectors. So instead of maintaining what little integrity the show's writing had to begin with and follow through to the end with the Day of Unity plotline being the series finale (Which was VERY OBVIOUSLY WHAT THEY WERE GOING FOR), they essentially made a side quest distraction that dragged the story on for longer than it needed to, wasting the audience's time.

I'm not mad that the Collector exists, I just find that their inclusion in the series did more harm than good for the writing. The show has a serious issue with giving screentime to unnecessary characters like the miscellaneous Hexside students, giving characters too much screentime (The biggest offender for this is Amity, there's more episodes centered around her than Hunter, Willow and Gus combined) and not giving ACTUALLY necessary characters enough screentime (Looking at you, Emerald Trio).

I really want to rewrite TOH, and if I feel the need to rewrite a show, it's usually because there's too much fundamentally wrong with it for me to give it anything higher than a 6/10 overall. But I've already got a whole AU and a whole rewrite in the works for two other series I care wayyyyy more about, so that's gonna have to be left to other writers in this fandom.

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If this post is how you've stumbled upon my page, hi :') Feel free to ask me about more or to elaborate on smth I said here if you want clarification, but if you check out my intro post and see another mutual interest we have maybe ask me about that instead of TOH please and thank you

#toh criticism #toh critical #the collector #heed my warning or get blocked #I'm not dealing with ppl that take general media criticism personally #anyway have fun with this novel ig #amphibia is so much better than this show and I'm tired of ppl not seeing that

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