#[and appreciated. even when he's being annoying]
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VALENTINE'S DAY WITH JAY
Synopsis : Jay plans a fancy Valentine's dinner, but when things go hilariously wrong, it becomes the most memorable evening of your lives.
Warnings : mild culinary mishaps, chaos, physical touch, mentions of fire
Wc : 3.8k+
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The scent of roses filled your apartment as you carefully adjusted the hem of your dress, smoothing out the faint creases with trembling fingers. It was Valentine’s Day, and Jay had promised a night to remember. Knowing his penchant for luxury and perfection, you imagined a beautifully orchestrated evening, a candlelit dinner at a high end restaurant, impeccable service, and a bouquet of roses bigger than your head.
A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Grinning, you rushed to open it, revealing Jay standing there, dressed in a tailored navy suit that hugged his frame perfectly. His hair was styled neatly, and in his hands was a small but elegant bouquet of red tulips.
“Hey” he greeted, his eyes shining as he took you in. “You look breathtaking.” “And you look, wow” you breathed, taking a moment to appreciate the effort he had put in.
He chuckled, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”
The evening began smoothly. Jay drove with the confidence of someone who had memorized the city’s streets, the car filled with soft music and the occasional banter. He mentioned that he had reserved a table at a fancy rooftop restaurant with a stunning view of the skyline. Your heart fluttered at the thought, everything was unfolding like a scene from a romance movie.
But life had other plans.
As you approached the restaurant, Jay’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting from relaxed to mildly frustrated.
“What is it?” you asked, sensing the change. “The restaurant had a kitchen mishap. They’re canceling all reservations for the night.” He exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed. “I’m so sorry. I wanted this to be perfect.” You placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. We can figure something out. It’s not about the place, it’s about being with you.”
He smiled, though the disappointment lingered in his eyes. “Thanks. Let me think for a second.”
After a moment of contemplation, Jay’s eyes lit up with determination. “How do you feel about a home-cooked meal? My place isn’t far from here.” You grinned. “That sounds perfect.”
Jay’s apartment was immaculate, as always. The minimalist decor was complemented by warm lighting, and the faint scent of cedarwood lingered in the air. He quickly rolled up his sleeves, revealing toned forearms that made your heart skip a beat.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll whip something up” he said confidently.
You settled on the couch, scrolling through your phone while soft music played from the speakers. Every now and then, you stole glances at Jay in the kitchen. He moved with practiced ease, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces like a seasoned chef.
“Need any help?” you offered. He shook his head with a playful smirk. “I got this. Just sit back and relax.”
Everything seemed to be going well until the smoke alarm blared unexpectedly. You jumped up in surprise, eyes wide as smoke wafted from the oven. “Jay!” “I know, I know!” he groaned, frantically waving a towel to disperse the smoke.
You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him, the epitome of cool and collected now battling a culinary disaster.
“This is not how I imagined tonight going” he muttered, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “Honestly, this is kind of amazing” you giggled. “I’ll never forget this.” He sighed, a smile tugging at his lips. “Glad one of us is having fun.”
After airing out the kitchen and salvaging what they could of the meal, Jay set up a makeshift picnic in the living room. He spread out a blanket on the floor and arranged the slightly charred food on plates. “Bon appetit” he said with a sheepish grin.
You clinked your glasses together. “To memorable Valentine’s nights.”
Despite the chaos, the food tasted surprisingly good. You both laughed over the mishaps and shared stories, the atmosphere light and filled with warmth.
“You know” Jay said between bites, “this might not have gone according to plan, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” “Me neither” you agreed. “It’s perfectly imperfect, just like us.”
He reached for your hand, his gaze sincere. “Thank you for being so understanding. You make everything better.” Your heart swelled at his words. “And you make life so much more fun.”
The night ended with you both curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over you as a classic rom com played on the TV. Jay’s arm was wrapped securely around you, his steady heartbeat lulling you into a state of contentment.
“Happy Valentine’s Day” he whispered. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jay.”
It wasn’t the night you had envisioned, but it was one you would cherish forever, filled with love, laughter, and the beautiful unpredictability that made life with Jay so extraordinary.
© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen smau#enhypen texts#enhypen fake texts#heeseung#jay#jake#sunghoon#sunoo#jungwon#ni-ki#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jake x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#ni-ki x reader#enhypen comfort#enhypen angst#enhypen reactions#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#enhypen heeseung#enhypen jay#enhypen jake#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen sunoo#enhypen fanfiction
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💞 — Vis Amoris.
RELATIONSHIP: Alhaitham x Reader (college au)
SUMMARY: The force of love | Alhaitham creates a misunderstanding, Kaveh accidentally exacerbates it, and you’re left with terribly annoying feelings.
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! This was longer than expected (2.4k)! Enjoy this hilarity.
“Hey, (Name)! Where are you heading with those flowers?” Kaveh waved down (Name) before they could pass him by in the hallway. There had a small bouquet of flowers in their arms; a variety of carnations and daisies tied neatly together with a red ribbon.
They were caught off guard by Kaveh, suddenly looking a bit shy. “Oh, ah, I was going to... give them to Alhaitham!”
“Seriously? Why him?”
Kaveh was the first person (Name) befriended after entering university. He was kind and friendly, a wonderful person to be around, and made nights at the bar very lively. If not for him being a dramatic and loud drunk, then for his enigmatic group of friends that (Name) also became quite close with over time.
In those few years, (Name) had become great friends with Kaveh, Cyno, and Tighnari, but especially Alhaitham. The other three found that relationship quite interesting; most were put off by Alhaitham’s attitude but (Name) appreciated the challenge. They’ve overheard other students call Alhaitham unfriendly but he hadn’t been anything less than polite to (Name). Maybe that was because he was a kind person at heart, but sometimes (Name) drifted off into a daydream where Alhaitham liked them more than just a friend.
Alhaitham appreciated honesty and rationality. What was more rational than being straightforward with their feelings? “Well… I just… y’know! I like him! So I wanted to tell him…”
(Name) hoped the look of shock on Kaveh’s face was because he hated (not really) Alhaitham and hated (not really) when good things happened to him. But after the shock wore off his expression morphed into something more of concern. “Well, uh, I really hate to break it to you, (Name), but we went drinking last night and I got drunk and started giving him a hard time.. the usual! Somehow we got onto the topic of relationships and I was lamenting about my life and I was complaining that girls keep trying to get me to pass confession letters to him—”
“Kaveh, is there… like… a point to this?”
He took another deep breath, “there is, I swear! Since I was complaining about all that I asked him why he keeps rejecting confessions and he said he didn’t have any time for a relationship!”
(Name)’s heartbeat flatlined at Kaveh’s words, the weight of the bouquet suddenly becoming all too heavy. The optimistic smile on their face had dropped into a frown. “Oh,” was their only response. What were they supposed to say? (Name) suddenly felt very silly.
“I’m really sorry, (Name)!” Kaveh bowed his head in shame as if he was to blame for any of this. “I feel really bad!”
(Name) shook their head and smiled. Much too empathetic for his own good, Kaveh could easily see that their smile didn’t quite reach their eyes. He felt terrible, he really did; he wished Alhaitham liked (Name), they were so perfect for each other! Kaveh was even sure that Alhaitham had a crush on (Name), and was shocked to learn that he didn’t.
“Hey, relax,” (Name) hummed. They appreciated the comfort and care from their friend and kept their smile unwavering for Kaveh’s sake. The last thing they wanted was for him to feel guilty about telling them— he had done them a favor, after all. Saving them from having their confession rejected by Alhaitham himself. But there was something equally disheartening about knowing that their feelings never even stood a chance. “I’m glad you told me. Saves me from the heartache, right? It’s no big deal, anyway... Just a crush.”
The bouquet fell to their side, petals floating to the ground.
It had been an odd week for Alhaitham.
(Name) was one of his closest friends and he quite enjoyed being around them. He was sure (Name) felt the same way— until they were suddenly avoiding him at all costs..
They had classes together so they couldn’t always avoid him, but even then they were trying their best. Alhaitham looked across the lecture hall, where (Name) had found a seat completely opposite of him. If his texts being ignored wasn’t enough to make the point clear, the empty seat next to him cemented it.
They had been sitting there for day. Initially, Alhaitham let it go on, unsure how to approach the situation. He was book smart, yes, but for all his research into human nature he felt clueless about what to do when a friend began ghosting you out of nowhere. They didn’t write scholarly articles about that. But, he had to at least try himself.
The class ended and as students began filing out of the classroom Alhaitham managed to catch (Name) as they were putting books back into their backpack. Something was clearly wrong. (Name) looked taken aback at Alhaitham’s presence, and they couldn’t even look him in the eye. He felt quite awkward, but he pushed past that. “(Name)... Did you see Tighnari’s message? We’re watching a movie tonight. Are you going to join?”
(Name) gave Alhaitham a smile, though it seemed a bit forced. “Sorry, Alhaitham, but I am just swamped with homework tonight. I’d love to join you guys, I really would, but I just need to focus right now!”
And, with that (Name) rushed out of the room without even saying goodbye, leaving Alhaitham in the dust. He stood there for a few moments, an unpleasant feeling attacking his heart. Did he do something wrong? Alhaitham had no idea and it had been eating away at him all week. He sighed and left the lecture hall to make his way towards his friends, who had already been waiting for him to show up.
“There you are. We’re gonna miss the previews.” Cyno admonished Alhaitham as he approached the group waiting at the quad.
“Only you want to see those,” Tighnari rolled his eyes. He looked behind Alhaitham once he noticed someone was missing. “Where’s (Name)?”
“(Name) said they were too busy.” There was a tangible dejection in his words that felt all too earnest coming from Alhaitham of all people. The sound of disappointment even surprised Alhaitham himself.
“Are you sure they’re busy? Aren’t they mad at you?” Tighnari’s comment piqued Alhaitham’s interest and made Kaveh’s heart stop. Mad!? Sure, Kaveh overheard Cyno and Tighnari’s whispered conversations over the past week about (Name) acting weird around Alhaitham. But who said (Name) was mad!? No one knew about (Name)’s crush, right?
Alhaitham tapped his chin in thought. “Are they mad? They have been trying to avoid me lately…”
It was so sudden. Alhaitham hadn’t realized how practically attached at the hip he and (Name) were until they began to distance themself lately. Had he done something to make them upset? He thought about it, nothing came to mind; (Name) didn’t act angry around him and smiled like usual.
Cyno blinked. “They’re mad? I thought they liked you.”
Kaveh looked like he entered catatonic shock while Alhaitham mulled over the idea in his head. He did not react for the first few moments. (Name), liking him? Romantically?
People either treated Alhaitham like he was a jerk or like he was the unattainable man of someone’s dreams. (Name), though, never cared for those labels and treated him like he was regular person from the very start. What was the line between platonic and romantic? Alhaitham tried to think about the differences. (Name) always stopped by the library to give Alhaitham some snacks during his long study sessions. (Name) always sat next to Alhaitham when they went out to drink. (Name) always listened to Alhaitham talk about his research, no matter how boring it might have been to the average person.
Did that mean something?
“What are you talking about! (Name) totally doesn’t have a crush on Alhaitham anymore!” Kaveh waved his arms frantically to distract from the situation. And upon realizing what he said only stoked the fire, increased intensity. “Not that (Name) ever had a crush on Alhaitham! They don’t even like him! Well— I mean, that’s not true, obviously, but it doesn’t even matter, because Alhaitham doesn’t like them back!”
The silence had never been so loud. Cyno and Tighnari stared at Kaveh in disbelief, the latter shaking his head at the outburst that seemed to reveal a bit too much information.
A light bulb went off. Alhaitham recalled telling Kaveh he had no time for a relationship when they went drinking a week ago. Alhaitham was confident in that declaration initially, but (Name) becoming so distant made Alhaitham feel like he was missing something. He didn’t realize how much he appreciated their company, and he didn’t realize how much he took them for granted until they were avoiding him.
Everything finally fell into place in his mind. “Oh, I see. I do like (Name).”
“Are you KIDDING ME!?” Kaveh let out an exasperated groan and fell to his knees in the middle of the bustling quad. Some other students walking by looked at the group in confusion. “I told them that you didn’t like them! That’s why they’ve been trying to avoid you all this week!”
The other 3 guys stared at him in disappointment. “Wow, Kaveh,” Cyno chided, shaking his head. “Not a great wingman. You left (Name) and Alhaitham on the ground.”
Walking away from Alhaitham made them feel terrible. (Name) hated to avoid him, but just being around him and knowing their stupid feelings were unrequited made their heart hurt. Alhaitham was a great friend and it felt awful to abandon that, but was it wrong to wish for something more?
Shaking their head at the thought, (Name) continued walking down the street. It wasn’t fair to any of their friends to let this silly crush get in the way. They’d have to get over it soon, to avoid suspicion but also because they just missed hanging out with all their friends.
They turned the corner and was startled at the sight of Alhaitham waiting at their bus stop. Aside from all the circumstances that made this an awkward encounter, (Name) also left campus much earlier than Alhaitham did. “Alhaitham? How did you get here?”
“I ran.”
That did answer (Name)’s question but they were hoping for a little more elaboration. “Okay… why? I thought you and everyone else were going to go watch a movie.”
The absurdity of the situation made it easier to talk to Alhaitham, even after avoiding him for so long. And (Name) was quick to realize that they really missed being able to talk to him like a normal person and not feel their heart breaking knowing the feeble scholar who just ran across campus at a breakneck pace would never like them back.
Alhaitham walked towards (Name) while keeping a comfortable distance between them. “We were, but I learned something important from Kaveh and I needed to talk to you—”
(Name) couldn’t let him continue his sentence without feeling like their heart was going to explode. “Oh, God— did Kaveh tell you..?” All this trouble to try and avoid him and their feelings get spilled anyway; how miserable! (Name) waved their hand frantically and forced a smile onto their lips. “Listen, don’t worry about that! It’s just a stupid crush. I know that you don’t like me back... and that’s okay! I promise, it’s okay!”
Hopefully Alhaitham would believe their words because the quiver in their voice pointed to the idea that it was, in fact, not okay. Did Alhaitham run all the down here just to tell them this? Sometimes he could come off a bit rude, but that would be pretty cruel.
They waited to hear something heartbreaking; ’I’m sorry,’ Alhaitham might say. But, instead of anything terrible, (Name)’s vision was flooded with vibrant colors as Alhaitham held out a bouquet of flowers that were previously hidden behind his back. A variety of carnations and daisies tied neatly together with a red ribbon. Some of the flowers slumped with fallen petals as a result of his race across campus. Deja vu.
“Kaveh did tell you that I had no time for a relationship, yes.” Alhaitham’s voice was surprisingly gentle. (Name) peeked around the flowers and noticed Alhaitham was blushing. It was faint and barely visible in the pink hued sunset, but unmistakable. “I was sure about that, until I realized how much I missed your company this week.”
He looked into (Name)’s eyes with an intensity that left them captured in his gaze. Was this real? Their feelings being reciprocated? This had to be some sort of sick joke. But the sincerity in Alhaitham’s voice accompanied by the delicate bouquet of flowers was reality, and (Name) couldn’t believe it.
For all the daydreams (Name) had about Alhaitham as a partner, they always struggled to imagine him being romantic. They were sure he was capable of it, but they had never seen that side of him so they couldn’t be sure. But Alhaitham stepped forward, grasping (Name)’s hand in his. He brushed his thumb over the back of their palm and (Name) was pretty sure they stopped breathing. “I’m trying to say that I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings, to be clear.”
(Name) wasn’t sure how a relatively clunky confession brought them to tears, but it did, and pulled Alhaitham into a hug. They felt him stiffen and move the flowers out of the way to save them from being crushed, but after a moment he wrapped his free arm around their torso to reciprocate. The hug was warm and Alhaitham held them tight in a way that felt secure.
“... This means you accept, right?”
They laughed against his chest. “Of course it does! You need to study more about relationships, geez.”
Alhaitham smiled, “I hope you can teach me.”
— BONUS
From around the corner, their friends tried to get a good view of the confession scene. If they weren’t going to see a movie that night, they could at least watch this.
“He gave them the bouquet,” Cyno exclaimed before being pushed out of the way by Tighnari.
“See! Flowers were a good idea. He better thank Collei later for making a bouquet on such short notice.” Looking all too pleased with himself, Tighnari watched the two in the distance intently, while fighting Cyno from moving him out of the way.
Kaveh shoved both Cyno and Tighnari out of the way. “They’re hugging! See, it all worked out! I’m a pretty good wingman after all!”
The three didn’t last long watching the scene until Alhaitham and (Name) noticed them. They called them creepy.
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I’ve Got Your Back - {Part 1}
Bucky x Y/N
Bucky meets you, a student making ends meet at an over-priced convenience store. Despite being afraid of entering the world of romance again, you just seem to …understand each other. Maybe there’s more to them both than they originally thought.
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Warnings: age-gap. Angst. Workplace bullying. Language.
Bucky Barnes stepped inside the convenience store. The fluorescent lights buzzed above him, illuminating aisles stacked with overpriced snacks, crappy. The smell of mop-water sat in the air.
He hadn’t really planned on stopping by. But a craving for something sweet had led him here, the tiny corner store tucked between a laundromat and a liquor shop. A couple of kids loitered by the slushie machine, arguing over which flavor was superior, while a man in a wrinkled suit debated over cigarettes behind the counter.
And then, there was you.
You stood at the register, expression caught somewhere between tired and vaguely annoyed—not outright rude, just carrying the weight of someone who’d had a long day. Bucky knew the look well; he saw it in the mirror more often than not.
He didn’t expect much interaction beyond the necessary exchange of goods and payment. But as he approached, a voice from the back interrupted the quiet monotony.
“Y/N! Are you fucking serious? I told you to restock aisle four, not stand there like a damn statue!”
Your spine stiffened at the harsh words. From the back room, a squat man in an ill-fitted polo stomped out, glaring at you with the disdain of someone who’d long since lost any patience for basic human decency.
Bucky noticed the way your eyes momentarily glossed over, how your fingers curled slightly against the counter before you took a steadying breath.
“I did restock it, Mr. Carl,” you replied, voice even but quiet. Bucky swore he saw a glassy sheen in your eyes. “I was just about to—”
“Don’t give me the excuses, girl. If I have to tell you one more time—”
“That’s enough.”
The words left Bucky’s mouth before he could stop them.
Both you and your boss turned to look at him. Your eyes widened slightly, surprised, while Carl just narrowed his, sizing up the stranger who had the audacity to interrupt his evening tirade.
“And you are?” Carl scoffed, crossing his arms.
Bucky’s jaw tensed. “A paying customer who doesn’t appreciate seeing people get treated like dirt for doing their job.”
Carl let out an incredulous huff but, perhaps noticing the sheer muscle and steel beneath Bucky’s jacket, decided not to push it. With a dismissive wave, he muttered something about ‘lazy employees’ and retreated to the back.
You let out a slow breath and glanced at Bucky, something between gratitude and embarrassment flickering across your face.
“Sorry about that,” you murmured, ringing up his purchase. There was a twang in your voice, an accent that seemed a mix-match.
“Don’t apologize,” he said, shaking his head. “You okay?”
You hesitated. Bucky recognized that too—the reluctance to admit that things weren’t fine, even when they clearly weren’t.
“I’m fine,” you said, forcing a small smile. “Been through worse.”
Bucky nodded, respecting the boundary but not quite believing you. He tapped his fingers against the counter, considering his next words carefully.
“You need me to rough him up a little?” he asked, only half-joking.
A surprised laugh burst from your lips before you could stop it. It wasn’t much, but it was genuine, and for some reason, that made Bucky feel lighter.
“Nah,” you said, shaking your head. “As tempting as it is to see Carl get launched into a snack display, I don’t think that would help my employment status.”
Bucky smirked. “Fair point.”
He took his bag, but instead of leaving, he lingered for a second. Then, in a softer voice, he added, “Seriously though… if you ever need help, I’m around.”
There was something in his tone—something solid, reassuring. A promise.
You met his eyes, seeing not just the war hero or the former assassin, but someone who understood. Someone who didn’t just say things to sound good, but meant them.
“Thank you,” you said, and the sincerity in your voice made him realize that maybe, you were telling the truth when you said you’d been through worse.
He gave you a single nod, the kind that said more than a hundred words ever could. Then, with a quiet goodbye, Bucky turned to leave, his heavy boots echoing against the linoleum floor. As the door chimed shut behind him, you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth spread through your chest. It had been a long time since someone had stood up for you like that—if ever.
The rest of the shift dragged on, the weight of your boss’s words lessened slightly by the brief encounter with the mysterious customer. You found your thoughts drifting back to Bucky’s face—his concerned eyes and the gentle curve of his mouth when he’d offered to help. It was a small gesture, but in that moment, it felt like a lifeline thrown to a drowning person.
When your shift finally ended, you stepped outside into the cool night air, letting it wash over you like a wave of relief. The neon lights of the store sign cast a garish glow on the empty sidewalk, but it didn’t feel as lonely as it usually did.
As you began the short walk home, you noticed a figure leaning against the wall of the adjacent laundromat. It was Bucky, arms folded over his chest, watching the world pass by. He pushed off the wall when he saw you, his eyes lighting up in a way that made your heart stutter.
“Hey,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You okay to walk home?”
You nodded, surprised by his concern. “I’m fine. I live just a few blocks away.”
“Okay,” he said, falling into step beside you. “I’m in no rush, and I don’t like the thought of you walking out here by yourself after what I heard in there.”
The gesture was unexpected, but somehow comforting.
“Thanks,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden rush of emotions. “Did you wait here this whole time just to check I got home okay…?”
Bucky shrugged, his shoulders shifting beneath the leather jacket. “Call it a gut feeling. Besides, it’s the least I could do after that show back there. No one should have to deal with that kind of crap at work.”
You couldn’t argue with that. As you walked side by side, the silence stretched comfortably between you, filled only by the distant sound of passing cars and the occasional chuckle of a couple leaving the liquor store.
“So, what’s your story?” Bucky asked, his gaze scanning the street as if expecting trouble. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course. I get the feeling you’ve got a bit of a history with that guy.”
You sighed, looking down at your worn-out sneakers. “It’s nothing special. Just a dead-end job, trying to make ends meet while I figure out what I want to do with my life. Carl’s always been a bit of a… character, but he pays the bills. Or at least, he did before tonight.”
Bucky’s eyes snapped to you. “What do you mean?”
You shrugged, a hint of sadness in the movement. “I think that might’ve been the last straw. I’ve been looking for something better for a while now, but it’s hard to find something that fits with my school schedule. Plus, I can’t exactly quit without another job lined up, you know? But I feel like shit there.”
Bucky nodded, his expression empathetic. He’d been in tough situations himself, had to make choices that weren’t ideal.
“Well, if you ever need a reference or anything, you’ve got my number now.” He fished out a piece of paper and scribbled down a string of digits. “And if he ever gives you grief again, just remember, you’ve got backup.”
You took the paper, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The thought of having someone like Bucky on your side was oddly comforting. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
As you approached the turn that led to your apartment complex, you felt a twinge of sadness. You didn’t know much about him, but there was something about his presence that made you feel less alone in the world. But you knew that this was the part where you said goodbye and went your separate ways.
“This is me,” you said, pointing to the dimly lit building. “Thanks for walking me home, Bucky.”
He nodded, his gaze lingering on the worn-out stairs leading up to the entrance. “No problem. Stay safe, okay? Wait…how did you-”
You smirked, holding up the receipt from the store. “It’s my job to remember faces and numbers, even if it’s just for the night. Plus, yours is pretty hard to forget. War hero, and all”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, a ghost of a smile. “Well, I guess that makes me pretty memorable.”
You nodded, tucking the paper into your pocket. “It does. Thanks again, really.”
“Take care, Y/N,” Bucky said, giving you a small salute before he turned and melted back into the shadows of the alley.
The night felt eerily quiet once he was gone, the echo of his footsteps fading away into the distance. You climbed the stairs, the chill of the evening seeping into your bones and unlocked the door to your apartment. Inside, the warmth of the room was a stark contrast to the outside world. You threw your bag onto the couch and kicked off your shoes, feeling the weight of the day finally start to lift. As you padded over to the fridge, the cold floor tiles biting at your socks, you pulled out the leftover pizza from the night before, the cheese congealed into a sad, greasy mess. But it was food, and that was all that mattered right now. All that you could budget for.
As you heated up your dinner in the microwave, the glow of the screen casting a soft light across the kitchen, you couldn’t shake the image of Bucky’s face from your mind. The way he looked at you - like he truly saw you - was something you hadn’t experienced in a very long time. The microwave beeped, snapping you out of your thoughts. You took a bite of the lukewarm pizza, the cheese pulling away from the bread. But somehow, it tasted a little less disappointing given that your night was accompanied by a nice guy… and a small spark you hadn’t felt in a long time.
You sat at the small table by the window, looking out into the quiet street. Sometimes a car passed by, their headlights painting streaks of light on the pavement. You found yourself wondering about Bucky’s life. What led him to be so kind? What made him want to protect someone like you from a simple act of workplace bullying? The curiosity grew, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that you should be grateful for the brief respite from your reality and not overthink it.
Your phone buzzed, breaking the silence. You glanced down at the screen, expecting a notification from a class group chat or a text from a friend complaining about their day. But instead, you found a message from an unknown number.
Unknown: Hey Y/N, it’s Bucky. Just checking in. How are you holding up?
Your heart skipped a beat. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, especially not from someone like Bucky Barnes. You know, handsome. Sweet. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. Just the thought of answering gave you a flutter in your chest.
You: Hey, I’m okay. Thanks for checking in. It’s been a long night.
Bucky: No problem at all. Just wanted to make sure you’re not letting that asshole get to you. You deserve better.
The bluntness of his message made you chuckle around a mouthful of pizza. It was refreshing, the way he didn’t mince words. You chewed thoughtfully, considering how much of your situation to share with him. After all, he was basically a stranger.
You: I’ve had worse days, but thanks for caring. I’ll be okay. Just trying to keep my chin up and move on.
The phone vibrated again, the screen lighting up with another text from him.
Bucky: That’s the spirit. Ever need someone to vent to, I’m here. Or, you know, to help you move some furniture. I’ve got strong arms and not a lot of plans.
The offer made you smile wider. It was almost a vague way of saying he wanted to see you again, despite being a blunt man he could bring himself to ask you out. It was laughable, in a way.
You: Haha, I’ll keep that in mind. I actually do have an old bookshelf that’s been giving me a hard time.
Bucky: Perfect. I’m your man. Whenever you need it moved, just let me know. No strings attached. Unless you want to grab some coffee first.
The suggestion was casual, but it hung in the air, charged with something more. You chewed on your lip, contemplating his offer. It wasn’t just about the bookshelf; you knew that. But the idea of seeing Bucky again, of sharing a moment that didn’t involve work or the stale air of the convenience store, was tempting. You hadn’t had a decent conversation with anyone in what felt like forever.
Coffee sounds good - you replied, trying to keep your excitement in check.
Bucky: Great! How’s tomorrow afternoon around 3? I can swing by with some muscle and a decent taste in caffeine.
You nodded to yourself, feeling a rush of blood to your face. It wasn’t a date, but it was something. Something outside the routine of your life. Something that had the potential to be more than just another forgettable encounter.
You: Tomorrow at 3 it is.
Bucky: Looking forward to it. Get some rest, and don’t let Carl ruin your night.
The conversation ended with a promise to meet, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the universe had just handed you a gift-wrapped opportunity for a new beginning. You spent the rest of the night scrolling through job listings, a renewed sense of determination burning in your chest. Maybe you didn’t need to settle for the same old crap anymore. Maybe there was more out there.
The next day dragged by with the excitement of a snail race. You found yourself checking the time on your phone every few minutes, counting down the hours until you could see Bucky again. It was ridiculous, really. You barely knew the guy, but he’d left an indelible mark on you with his kindness and protective nature.
Finally, the clock struck 3, and you felt your nerves begin to fray. You’d chosen your outfit with more care than usual, opting for a simple black dress that fell just above your knees and a light cardigan to ward off the chill of your ill-heated apartment. It was cleaner than it had been in weeks, the bookshelf sitting awkwardly in the middle of your living room, a clear indicator of the ruse you’d concocted.
When the buzzer rang, you took a deep breath and opened the door. Bucky stood in the hallway, dressed in a simple white t-shirt and jeans, looking every inch the hero from your childhood comics. He held up two steaming cups of coffee, the aroma wafting into the room.
“Peace offering,” he said with a wink, handing one to you.
You took it gratefully, feeling your nerves dissipate a little. The warmth of the cup felt good in your hands. “Thanks,” you murmured, taking a tentative sip.
He stepped inside, surveying the bookshelf with a nod of approval. “Looks like it’s seen better days.”
“It was my grandmother’s. I just can’t seem to part with it,” you said, feeling a twinge of nostalgia.
Bucky set his own coffee down and rolled up his sleeves. “Well, let’s get to work then.”
The process of moving the heavy, cumbersome piece of furniture was surprisingly easy with his help. You directed him where to push and pull, and together, you managed to maneuver it into the perfect spot. It was a small victory, but it felt significant, a symbol of progress in a life that often felt stagnant.
Once the bookshelf was in place, you sat down on the couch, breathless and laughing. Bucky followed, his smile reaching his eyes as he took in the now organized space. He handed you back your coffee, and you took a grateful sip, watching him as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
“So, what’s the story behind the books?” he asked, gesturing to the eclectic mix of novels and textbooks that now lined the shelves.
You shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious. “They’re just my escape. Sometimes school gets overwhelming, and I just need to lose myself in a good story.”
He nodded, his gaze lingering on the spines before meeting yours. “I get that. Sometimes, when I’ve had enough of my own head, I’ll read for hours. It’s like…going on an adventure without leaving your couch.”
You shared a knowing look. “Exactly. And my couch is pretty comfy for traveling the world.”
Bucky’s smile grew a little sad. “Or escaping it, huh?”
The air in the room changed, thick with unspoken understanding. You both knew what it was like to carry a past that weighed heavier than any book. You took a deep breath, deciding to let down your guard a little.
“Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes it’s easier to deal with other people’s problems than my own. And the ones in books have a better chance of a happy ending than the ones in real life.”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “But you can’t live in someone else’s story forever, Y/N. You gotta write your own sometimes too.”
You looked away, feeling the weight of his gaze. It was a gentle push, but it was a push nonetheless.
“I know,” you said softly. “I’m just…scared to mess it up, you know?”
Bucky’s hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You won’t. And if you do, that’s what the backspace button’s for. Just keep going.”
The warmth of his hand was like a balm to your soul, a silent promise of support. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the beginnings of something unfurling in your chest - hope, perhaps?
You both sat there in silence for a moment, sipping on your coffee, the quiet hum of the fridge the only sound breaking the stillness.
“So, what’s your story?” Bucky asked, curiosity etched in his voice as he took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee.
You took a deep breath, unsure how much of your life you wanted to unpack for a man you’d only just met. But there was something about him that made you feel safe, like he could handle whatever you threw at him. “It’s not much to tell, really. Just trying to get through school, work to pay the bills, the usual stuff. My parents aren’t around, so it’s all on me.”
The sadness in your voice was palpable, and Bucky’s expression softened. He knew what it was like to be adrift in the world, carrying the weight of responsibilities that were never meant for one person.
“What about your friends? They help you out?”
You shrugged. “They try, but everyone’s got their own lives. It’s hard to juggle it all. And Carl…” You trailed off, not wanting to dwell on the sour note he’d left you with the night before.
“He’s not worth another thought,” Bucky said firmly. “You’ve got more important things to focus on. Like what you’re gonna do after you graduate.”
You nodded. “Yeah. I want to be a counsellor. I’m studying psychology.”
Bucky’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing. You’ll be great at it. You’ve already got the patience and strength to deal with people at their worst.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “Thanks. It’s just what I’ve had to learn to do, I guess. Can I ask you something a bit stupid?”
Bucky raised an eyebrow, his grip on your hand not loosening. “You can ask me anything.”
“How did you become so…” You paused, searching for the right word. “So…good?”
He chuckled, a sound that was surprisingly warm and full of life. “It’s not something you just become, Y/N. I’ve seen a lot of bad stuff. Done a lot of bad stuff. It’s about making choices, every day. Choosing to do the right thing even when it’s hard, even when it’s scary. And I’ve had a lot of people help me along the way. Like Steve… Captain America, I mean.”
The mention of his friend brought a wistful look to his eyes, and you felt a tingle of curiosity about the stories he must have, the adventures he’d been on.
“I just…I mean, I’m not gonna trauma dump on you or anything but sometimes I just feel like I…can’t make up for anything…” Your voice drew out.
Bucky’s thumb made small circles on the back of your hand, a gentle reassurance. “You fascinate me.”
You looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the floor before meeting yours again. “You look so sweet. I..obviously you are. But, I can tell there’s something else going on. That something happened….”
You felt your eyes well up, unsure if you wanted to let go of the dam of emotions you’d held back for so long. But the sincerity in Bucky’s voice, the way his thumb kept caressing your hand, made you feel like maybe, just this once, it was okay to be vulnerable in front of him.
“It’s just… I’ve made some mistakes,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big ones. Ones I’m not sure I can ever fix. It’s hard to…move on from that.”
Bucky’s eyes searched yours, the warmth in them unwavering. “We all have regrets, Y/N. Hey, we all know I do. But that doesn’t define us. It’s what we do next that counts. And you, helping people, that’s a pretty noble next step, if you ask me.”
You took a shaky breath, his words resonating deep within you. “Sorry.” You giggle softly, “This is a bit dark for a first…whatever this is.”
“It’s okay to be real. Sometimes that’s all anyone can ask for.”
Bucky’s words surrounded you like a warm embrace, his grip on your hand a silent reminder that you weren’t alone. The room felt a size smaller, but not in a suffocating way - more like the comfort of a blanket on a cold night, wrapping you in a cocoon. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your secrets threatening to spill out.
He could see a look of guilt spilling over your features suddenly.
“Bucky, I’m a bad person.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them. You hadn’t meant to say it so bluntly, but there it was, hanging in the air like a storm cloud.
Bucky’s thumb stopped moving. He studied you, his gaze intense but not judgmental. “You can’t believe that, Y/N. You’re not. Everyone makes mis-”
You cut him off with a shake of your head. “No, Bucky. You don’t understand.”
The silence grew heavier, the air thick with the unspoken words. You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for his judgment, his pity. But all you found was his hand tightening around yours, a silent declaration that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I was trained in the Red Room.”
It was a whisper, the weight of the confession making your voice tremble.
Bucky’s eyes searched yours, the warmth in them never fading. “The Red Room?” he repeated, his voice low and measured. You nodded, the words feeling like lead in your mouth. The Red Room was something you’d buried deep, a chapter of your life you’d hoped never to have to re-open. But here you were, in the dim light of your small apartment, sharing it with this stranger. He deserved to know. He deserved the option to walk away and never look back at the twisted world he’d barely escaped the first time.
He was quiet for a long moment, his hand still wrapped around yours. The tension grew, a symphony of unspoken questions and fears playing in the air. You felt your heart hammering in your chest, the thumping rhythm echoing in your ears. Was he disgusted? Would he leave now?
Bucky’s eyes searched yours, looking for the truth in the shadows of your irises. “The Red Room,” he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue like a dark secret. You could see the recognition in his eyes, the understanding of what that meant. “You were a widow.”
It was less of a question than a statement.
You nodded, feeling the weight of your past pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. The air grew colder, and you found yourself shrinking into your cardigan, as if it could offer some kind of protection from his judgment. But instead of recoiling, Bucky leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving yours.
“How’d you get out?” His voice was gentle, the question not one of accusation, but of genuine curiosity.
You took a deep breath, feeling the walls of your chest constrict around the words you hadn’t spoken in years. “Natasha and Yelena…they found me. When they took the Red Room down. They…freed me.”
Bucky’s grip on your hand grew stronger, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the understanding dawn in his expression, the knowledge of what it meant to be plucked from the hell you’d been living in and thrust into a world that didn’t make sense anymore.
“Bucky, you….I think you should go.”
Your voice was barely a whisper, the tremble in it clear as day. You couldn’t hold his gaze anymore, the guilt and fear of what he’d think of you now that he knew the truth too much to bear. You didn’t expect him to stay, not after what you’d told him. But the way he looked at you, with a mix of empathy and something you couldn’t quite name, made you hope.
“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N,” Bucky said firmly, his thumb still caressing the back of your hand. “You’re safe here. With me.”
But the dam had already broken. Tears spilled from your eyes, a silent cascade that painted tracks down your cheeks. You hadn’t realized how much you’d needed to hear that, how much you’d needed someone to remind you that you weren’t the monster you felt like. You hadn’t expected to find that in the arms of a man who’d been through his own brand of hell.
But here you were, crying in front of him, letting the pain of your past spill out in a messy, human way.
——————————————————————————————————
I’m hoping this series will be intriguing for some of you fabulous readers! 🫶
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Owl in a cage
@things-arent-what-they-seem66
Lucifer rhythmically tapped his long fingers against the smooth surface of where he was sitting. The meeting was soon to begin as more and more angels filled the chamber.
He didn’t know what this was about but apparently it was urgent. As well as fundamentally important. At least according to his sister it was when she came to his chambers to deliver the news herself.
His presence was needed and she would not say more as to why. Something about it being a pleasant surprise or along the lines of it. Personally he was glad for and annoyed by this interference from his work.
Some time ago he had been given the task by his father to help create the flora and fauna for this new little planet. Lucifer thought it was a waste of his time and his magic.
Creating something so mundane, so idiosyncratic, so little. It brought him no joy whatsoever. He just didn’t understand why his father found any joy with this at all.
However, a task was still a task. He was almost finished all he needed to do was finish the last few ideas, send them to his father, and then he’ll never have to think about the insignificant, little planet ever again.
Finally he didn’t have to wait any longer as the last few angels arrived. His sister, Sera, addressed his siblings and him.
Sera: Brothers, sisters, I call this meeting bearing great news. As many of you know our father has spent time creating the planet called Earth.
The orb below them glowed to life showing the topic in question. A few of the younger angels, who hadn’t seen it before awed at it. Lucifer rolled his eyes at their reaction.
Sera: He along with the efforts of Lucifer have been filling the planet with many wonders.
A few angels lightly applauded for Lucifer. That got the Angel of light to sit up a little bit. A proud smile gracing his face.
It felt nice to be appreciated for his efforts.
Sera: In fact, this meeting is in part about Lucifer. Or at least a new task for him.
Lucifer’s smile fell as a curious look masked on instead. Suddenly a bright light entered the room, and everyone immediately bowed to it. Everyone but Lucifer that was.
"GREETINGS MY CHILDREN, LUCIFER, I HAVE NEWS OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE. IT IS CONCERNING ABOUT THE NEWEST PLANET. I HAVE DECIDED TO ADD ONE FINAL INHABITANT OF EARTH. IN FACT, THIS SPECIES WILL EVENTUALLY RULE THE WORLD."
Murmurs and whispers echoed throughout the chamber. Everyone was shocked beyond belief by this announcement. Even the neutral expression that Lucifer tried to uphold shattered for a split second.
"DO NOT BE AFRAID MY CHILDREN THESE BEINGS SHALL BE GOOD. THEY SHALL NOT BE VICIOUS AND RULE WITHOUT MERCY BUT INSTEAD CHERISH AND CARE FOR THE EARTH. THAT IS WHAT I SIMPLY MEAN."
He brought forth an image with a wave of his hand and it was the silhouette of a creature. A creature that looked eerily like certain angels. Maybe like him Lucifer supposed
Only this creature had no wings whatsoever.
"I AM CALLING THIS CREATURE, A HUMAN. THE HUMANS SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH AND CARE FOR IT. THEY SHALL RESIDE IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN."
Lucifer remembers the little garden that his father was so fond of. He never saw the appeal; it was simply plants and animals.
"I SHALL CREATE THE FIRST HUMAN TOMORROW MORNING AT DAWN IN THE GARDEN. I WISH FOR YOU ALL TO WITNESS THE BEGINNING OF AN ERA OF NEW LIFE. ESPECIALLY YOU LUCIFER."
His father turned and stared straight at Lucifer.
What he said next would forever change his destiny.
"MY SON, MY ANGEL OF LIGHT AND MUSIC, I KNOW THAT THERE HAS BEEN LONELINESS IN YOUR HEART FOR SOME TIME MAYBE EVEN A BIT OF MELANCHOLY. THAT IS WHY I HAVE DECIDED TO GIFT YOU THE VERY FIRST PARTNER. A PARTNER WHO YOU SHALL LOVE AND WITH THAT LOVE HELP MULTIPLY AND FILL THE EARTH."
Lucifer felt as if a sword was shoved into his gut.
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I see you're not familiar with isekai and I requested one so I'll change it.
Can I request a Reader who is a new survivor and is extremely good at cooking? Reader has two abilities: throw a cupcake to heal another survivor (inspired by the character Sprout from Dandy's World) and use a frying pan to stun the killer.
Readers have a rather cold personality but they are very protective of other survivors. I'll choose Elliot x Reader😔 (Sorry if this is too long)
Good lord, you have no idea how much I despise being Sprout. (From a Vee main, even tho I stopped playing Dandy’s World as it got boring…. LMAO.)
But, I’ll see what I can do with your request here!
(Again, I do not know the characters exact personalities and so on, so they might, if not most likely will be OOC!!)
That being said, headcanons/something is under the cut!! ;
• You were a new healer for the survivors, of course the killers would be annoyed and frustrated by you.
• But, you always acted protective over your survivor friends, taking constant hits (body blocking) from the killers, just so your survivors on low hp can run away.
• Most of the time, you are awarded with a medkit from other survivors, or… A pizza thrown at you… By none other than, Elliot.
• As you notice Elliot’s hp, you throw a cupcake to him, which, he greatly appreciates, with some surprise. (Now he doesn’t have to worry too much about healing survivors alone…)
• When the timer ends for any rounds, you, Elliot, Builderman and Guest 1337 take care of every survivor’s wounds. With… You occasionally scolding the survivors for being reckless. (Especially Chance, Two Time and Guest 1337.)
• You did scold Elliot too, as he kept running to heal survivors with pizza. But, you felt a bit guilty, after seeing him frown and look down at the floor in guilt. (Poor guy… QUITE LITERALLY—)
• After a while of you being on the survivor team, everyone saw you like a mother hen, or some mama bear. (Since, mother hen’s are protective, and so are mama bears…)
• You stuck with that title, proudly.
• You and Elliot eventually hit it off together, as you both were put on cooking and baking duty. Elliot on cooking duty, while you, on baking duty.
• (Elliot only knows how to make pizzas, but for this sake, he’ll make more. And you know how to bake pastries. And cook of course, so you help Elliot when he needs it with cooking.)
• After a while, you and Elliot decided to have matching outfits, for fun. Which, proved to be helpful in rounds. So now other survivors can distinguish you and Elliot apart.
• You and Elliot also made matching bracelets. You had a pastry themed bracelet, whilst Elliot had a cooking themed bracelet. (Mainly pizza themed though…)
• Overtime, Elliot asked you out to date, and you accepted. (Now every survivor thinks of you both as protective parents of the survivors.)
• (I am not typing anymore, but yeah. 💪🙂↕️)
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A love story told through voicelines (Alhaitham ver.) I
C/W: alhaitham x gn!reader, not that slow of a burn, characters find the other annoying, reader is a teacher at the akademiya (Vahumana), they have history (iykyk), one nsfw innuendo, not proofread
Note: my humiliating attempt at writing Alhaitham’s smart ahh attitude >A< anw, lmk how you guys want this story to go! (comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated)
(You) About Alhaitham
Scribe Alhaitham? He’s… intelligent. That’s all I have to say.
(Alhaitham) About you
Hm.
(You) About Alhaitham: History I
He and I partnered up in a thesis which, thankfully, got approved by our professors. Working with him was challenging, to be honest. Every idea I had, he’d shut it down with some counter argument—“they’d never approve of that,” or “it has too many defects.” A conversation with him may as well be a debate! Frustrating and infuriating.
(Alhaitham) About you: History I
They are competent, I’ll admit that much. But their ideas? Flawed. Reckless. It’s as if they refuse to consider consequences before leaping into action. Every discussion turned into an exhausting debate—because, naturally, I had to be the one to explain why their half-formed theories wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny.
Really, for someone who specializes in history, you’d think they’d have learned from past mistakes. And yet, they persist.
(You) About Alhaitham: History II
Talking about this in my place of work is not really appropriate. … Fine! Yes, we were in… amorous congress. But it happened a long time ago—when we were still students. Just once. A drunken mistake, that’s all it was!
… Keep this between us, though. I love my job.
(Alhaitham) About you: History II
I’d rather this particular detail remain in the past where it belongs. It was years ago, an irrelevant event. I fail to see why anyone would find it worth discussing now.
Though, knowing them, they’d likely frame it as some dramatic mistake rather than what it was—an ill-advised but ultimately inconsequential decision. Either way, I don’t intend to entertain the conversation.
… You think I should drop by? Hm, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to evaluate their current methodology.
(You) About Alhaitham: Work
It’s inevitable that we cross paths—he’s the Akademiya’s Scribe, after all. I can handle brief interactions, but when he lingers, it’s… bothersome. Always with that unreadable expression, listening too intently to everything I say. I know he’s just waiting to poke holes in my arguments. Ugh. Some things never change.
(Alhaitham) About you: Work
They have an irritating tendency to be vague, as if I won’t immediately notice the gaps in their reasoning. Do they think that being imprecise will make me less inclined to argue? If anything, it has the opposite effect.
I don’t intend to debate them at every opportunity, but when they make it so easy, I see no reason to hold back.
(You) About Alhaitham: Annoyance
Do you know how aggravating it is to give a lecture, only to see him sitting there in the back, arms crossed, silently judging every word that comes out of my mouth? He doesn’t even work in my Darshan! What is he doing there?! “It was on my way,” he says. “I had time to spare,” he says. Liar.
Having the Scribe in my classroom is distracting—both for me and my students. I’d appreciate it if he found a different way to pass the time. Preferably far away from my lectures.
(Alhaitham) About you: Observation
I fail to understand how they manage to get results. Their lectures lack structure, their methods are inconsistent, and yet… their students actually retain information. It goes against all logic.
Still, I suppose there’s something to be said about efficacy, no matter how unorthodox. Not that I’ll be admitting that to them. They’re insufferable enough as it is.
(You) About Alhaitham: A Final Thought
I swear, he only comes to my lectures to irritate me. He just sits there, arms crossed, waiting for me to say something he can nitpick. It’s distracting. The other day, I caught myself scanning the room to see if he was there before I even started teaching. Ridiculous.
…No, that doesn’t mean anything! It’s just easier to prepare for battle when you know the enemy is near!
(Alhaitham) About you: A Final Thought
They’ve developed an odd habit of pausing mid-lecture, glancing toward the back of the room—toward me. If I were to be charitable, I’d say they’re checking whether I have any objections.
But that would imply they value my opinion. Which, of course, is absurd.
(Your student) About you and the Scribe
… So, uh. Are those two dating or something?
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#genshin impact x reader#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham#alhaitham fluff
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Fuck it Friday
It's 4:13AM and I just wrote a scene in a wip I haven't touched in over a year, so that's something! Here's a gift for those who continuously tag me every week in wip games, you don't know how much I appreciate you, even when I'm having such horrible writer's block. This is from my TrueBlood AU, in which I am attempting to rewrite each episode of LS, except it takes place in the TB universe. It's slow going bc of the changes I have to make BUT it still lives in my head all the time. So here's something a little sad and angsty, but maybe hopeful? This is from 1x08, so you have context, but obviously things are different ;) It's a long one, too. An entire scene, 1k! So there's more under the cut :)
Hours later, his father had gone home exasperated and TK couldn’t find it in himself to care. The sweet nurse was back. This time, for some reason, he clocked her name badge: Traci.
Traci didn’t pay him any mind as she grabbed the chart off the end of Carlos’ bed, checked his heart rate, oxygen saturation, all the monitors and lines connected to his body. She pulled out a penlight and carefully, so very gently, raised his eyelids to shine the beam into his pupils. TK knew she’d find no reaction, but he also knew it was another thing to check off a list, just in case.
Traci went through the entire checklist in silence, not acknowledging TK at all, which was odd. She usually had a kind smile for him, even if it reminded him of his father’s—a little exasperated. But this time she ignored him entirely as she went about her duties. He wondered if he’d annoyed her enough that her kind demeanor—her customer service face, he almost snorted to himself—had fallen by the wayside when he was the only one present in the room. He’d become furniture, which was fitting, since he felt like he’d solidified in place. He hadn’t moved a single muscle in hours, not even needing to breathe to put on a good show for anyone.
Finally, Traci hooked the chart back on the end of the bed, but instead of leaving the room without a word as TK expected her to do, she turned and looked right at him.
For a moment, her eyes were hard, determined, but it seemed like this sweet woman was incapable of harshness because they softened after only a moment, looking at him with something like pity. It didn’t even raise his hackles like it normally would. He had no strength left to care what she thought of him.
“Listen,” she began softly, still standing a few feet away from. “I don’t know much about vampire health, but I do know about the bleeds. You need to sleep soon, or feed, or you’ll die.”
“I’m already dead,” was TK’s rote answer. She sighed, and he could tell she was slightly annoyed at him but didn’t want to show it.
“I can bring you a bag from the—”
“No.” He almost winced at his harsh tone, his nature creeping out of him a bit, snarling.
She didn’t question why he wouldn’t take a blood bag from their supply, just moved on. He was oddly thankful amidst his melancholy.
“Then let me find you a light-tight room for a couple of hours. Please, you need to rest. Do you think, when he wakes up, he’ll want to see you like this? Not taking care of yourself?” TK could applaud her tactic, appealing to his very obvious care for the man in the hospital bed, but he had an answer for that too.
“To be honest, he probably won’t want to see me anyway. It’s not like we’re anything serious.”
She raised a very skeptical eyebrow at him. He couldn’t blame her. He was purposefully slowly killing himself holding vigil for a man he’d pushed away at every slight show of something deeper between them. He probably should have taken this as a sign from the universe that he should cut ties with Carlos for good, that being around TK wasn’t safe for him. The worst part was, what happened had nothing to do with the supernatural at all; it was just Carlos’ job and it’s random, merciless dangers that landed them here. But TK couldn’t help wondering if it wasn’t a sign from the universe anyway.
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word on that. Please, let me find you somewhere to rest, and you can come back in a couple of hours.” Her face was all sympathy, almost pleading.
“Why do you care what happens to me, anyway?” I’m a monster from your nightmares, he doesn’t say out loud, a qualifier that isn’t needed but true all the same.
“I’m a nurse. Caring about people is in the job description,” she says with a casual shrug.
“I’m not people.” It’s a true statement, full stop.
“See, I don’t believe that. I think everyone, good or bad, living or dead, has a right to health and happiness. And right now, I care about his health and your health and also my own sanity, so I can’t watch this anymore without doing something about it. Also, I’m pretty sure I could take you right now, in the state you’re in, so don’t try me again. I’ll be back in a moment.”
With that, she breezed out of the room and TK was left floundering. She was right, though; she could probably bully him into any position she chose right now, given how much his body had deteriorated without rest or blood. He felt like he’d melt into the floor soon.
When she returned less than ten minutes later, she practically did just that. She threw a heavy blanket over him and grabbed his wrists in a surprisingly strong grip. “Can you stand?”
“Maybe,” he said honestly.
He let her help him from the chair, unsteady on his feet and leaning on her more than he would like to admit.
“There’s no windows between here and where we’re going, but I brought the blanket just in case. Come on, we’re even staying on this floor. But if you sass me one more time, I’m putting you down in the morgue.”
That almost startled a laugh out of him, more an exhalation of air than anything else.
The room she brought him to had two small cots and a row of five lockers. A break room of sorts. What he really needed was to go to ground, an enclosed space near the surface of the earth would rest him properly, but if this was the best he was getting it was more than he deserved. She didn’t turn the light on when they entered, which he was grateful for. The harsh lights of the hospital were already getting to him, another thing he didn’t want to admit, but she seemed to instinctively know how to handle his needs in the moment.
She guided him over to a cot and helped him sit. He was nearly instantly horizontal, like a felled tree, but he was grateful when his head hit a pillow and not something hard like the cot’s frame. He lost track of the passage of time while she tucked him in like a sweet mother, taking care with him like he was someone worth caring about. Like he was human.
“Sleep, and I promise I’ll come wake you myself if there are any changes, okay?”
He looked at her wryly with all the strength he had left, his body already drifting into a state of altered consciousness. “You’d wake a sleeping vampire? You have a death wish?”
She scoffed at him with a smirk. “Did we not just establish that I could totally take you?”
He wanted to laugh at her, wanted to come back with something snarky but also menacing, but he was already out.
Tagging some Tarlos mutuals @herefortarlos @guardian-angle22 @bonheur-cafe @carlos-tk @paperstorm @basilsunrise @rmd-writes @lemonlyman-dotcom @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @firstprince-history-huh and also specifically thanking @alrightbuckaroo @carlos-in-glasses and @strandnreyes for tagging me in other wip games :)
#tarlos#911ls#911ls fic#911 lone star fic#my fic#trueblood tarlos#also I apologize bc this one probably won't be posted for a long ass time bc I have only written episode 1 fully and some scenes from other#and it's nearly 18k LOL#this is like a 300k fic y'all and idk if I wanna start posting unless I have a consistent upload schedule and at this time I def do not lol#but thank you for reading if you did!
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Chapter 10: Prophet Girls
(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)
Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 10: Prophet girls
Wordcount: 5,7k
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader
TW: (View masterlist for full series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, themes of indoctrination, themes of eating disorders
Description: You go hunting with Simon in the morning, and get invited to dinner in the evening.
A/N: Well….this chapter took a long time - Holidays took the life out of me, but I'm making my come back to my writing! - This one hasn't been read by my lovely beta reader as she's sick, I hope you get better soon love! :,( - I've proofread best I could so, I hope you have all enjoyed the chapter regardless, it's one I've been looking forward to write!
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"Relax your arm, you're holding onto it too tight" Simon gently adjusts your hold on the hunting rifle by your shoulders.
You grumble quietly, following his directions and exhaling a cloud of frosted breath. "I know what I'm doing," you shake his guiding touch off leaning further down into the snow and relaxing. There's no animal in sight yet, thank God. It's not like you'd hit it like this, all jittery.
At least that's how the suddenly very invasive man next to you so delicately put it just mere minutes ago.
You don't remember him being this pushy, or this confident really. A trait you don't appreciate so much when it comes to the correction of your apparent flaws. They only became flaws today for some reason.
"Are you sure? You seem really tense," his voice has been a constant stream of chatter in your ears this morning. When in the world did he stop being quiet again. "I mean it, you need to relax or you're going to miss it."
"I am relaxing!" you hiss out looking to where he's laying by your side.
His eyes narrow but he lets out an exhausted huff. "At least relax your trigger finger, you're going to scare away any of the animals before we even see any." He shakes his head.
Despite your protest you do as he asks and relax your body even more into the snow. A bit of it has managed to find the little exposed places of your jacket and make its way under, but you can barely feel it now.
"If you're going to be so picky, why did you even drag me out here," you ask a tad calmer resting your cheek against the cold polished side of the rifle. When he had woken you up that morning, it came as a surprise that he was only doing it to drag you out hunting at the ass crack of dawn.
You hadn't been at the liberty to decline.
"You can't keep staying in that room forever..." Simon says adjusting his position in the snow and keeping an eye on the moving bushes at the far end of your viewpoint. "You aren't coming out anymore, it's getting Price worried. Johnny too even if he won't say it."
You let out an annoyed huff. They shouldn't waste their energy worrying over something so trivial. You knew how to take care of yourself, even if it didn't look like it to them. What you were doing was most strategic.
"Great so it's a pity hunt."
"Don't do that," Simon grumbles. "We take care of our own," he gives you a pointed look when you make a noise of disapproval. "You're part of the team whether you like it or not Spider."
"Temporarily."
He shakes his head but otherwise makes no comment.
"Are you really that eager to get away from us?" there's an underlying meaning in his words, it’s less about an us, and more about a me.
You hadn't given it much thought, what you'd do once all of this is over. A part of you doesn't know if this can be done. They have a determination you lack. To truly see this through, you're going to need something that you still lack, you're going to have to dig a lot deeper than before, to resist, to complete the objective set before you.
"Where are you going when all this is over?" you ask.
"Wherever they send me next," he answers.
That's the part of his job that made sure you never got there. Sure, there were other certain factors. However, that point, the going from place to place with reckless abandon and a trust in your superiors that you'll never build again is what keeps you.
You move on your own terms, not someone else's. Not anymore.
"That doesn't get tiring?"
He goes quiet for a moment, leaning over to adjust where your gun is looking. He guides it towards the rustling bushes where he seems to have spotted something.
"There...a rabbit...keep an eye and take your shot when it's in view."
You let out a quiet steady breath as the white fur and pink nose sniffs out of one of the nearby bushes. It's cautious of danger, sniffing at the snow before taking a few uncertain steps out.
It's like it can feel it. That some quiet predator has it in its sights. The tense air around the clearing is almost suffocating, the expectation of the shot making your senses jittery.
"You get used to it."
It's all jumping around too much, and you start to crave the stability of the drug induced illusions.
Your finger itches on the trigger, your breath hitches. You look right into the red eyes of the rabbit, you see its terror. It's enticing, a rush like nothing else, that makes sparks fly off the synapses in your brain.
You pull the trigger with as much uncertainty as the scared rabbit.
You could never get used to it.
When you get back to the cabin, you find Gaz hauling a pine tree inside the house, right along with a mountain of snow. You can't imagine Price will be happy about that, but all he gives is a disappointed glare.
He directs Gaz around, moving the table a bit to the side to make space for the massive thing. You had never truly understood why there was even a need for a tree, even more so here. You didn't even have any decorations for the thing, it would quite literally just be a tree in the living room.
"Oh, you're back," Gaz perks up from behind the tree when he finally manages to get it into position. "Did you catch anything?"
Your empty hands should speak for itself. Simon closes the door behind you, kicking off the snow from his boots before looking quizzically over at the tree. "No," you answer curtly. "Not this time."
"Well, at least you're not being forced to carry a tree all the way from town," Gaz huffed with a smile on his lip.
"Zip it Gaz, you volunteered," Price grumbles. "Now put it a little more left."
"Do we really need a tree Cap'?" Simon passes you to stand next to the captain, observing from his viewpoint.
"It's festive."
You slip past the three of them, quiet steps placed towards your room. Simon might have brought you, to get you out of the room but that didn't mean you couldn't retreat as soon as you got back.
Halfway down the hallway, a wall in the form of Soap stops you from entering the room once again. You stop abruptly, startling yourself and him at the same time. "Joh-" you don't get to cut yourself off because he does it for you.
"Spider!" a smile spreads across his lips, and it startles you worse than bumping into him. "I was wondering when ye were coming back," he sounds endearingly excited. "Are ye ready for tonight?"
"Tonight?"
You take a step back, swallowing the thick of your spit back down. He's holding a notebook in his hands, a pencil case behind it. He's been drawing again then. Your wrists itch, curiosity winning its primary space in your brain as to what he could possibly be drawing now.
"Got invited by Mrs. Evans and her husband to dinner at their house tonight, ye and me." He shifts the weight between his legs, his eyes darting away from you and to the art on the walls. "Price agreed it would be good idea, get more intel on 'em."
"Of course they did," you say exasperated. "He's not wrong, if they're apart of anything major there'll be signs. Subtle but they'll be there."
He nods, falling quiet as he stands there. You look at him for a hot minute, expecting him to move but he doesn't. Your lips move to form the words you want to ask but nothing comes out. Your eyes go back to the items he's holding, and you gesture to it, trying to get him to say something, anything.
"Oh! ach that's right, I got ye something." He smiles and holds out the notebook for you to take. Hesitantly you take hold of it, giving him a questioning look. Your hands ghost over the edges before you flip it open.
It's empty, but the paper has quality and it's not just any notebook. He had bought you a sketchbook, one that's matching his own. A warmth blooms in your heart as you realize he remembered. Of all things you hadn't expected him to go out of his way and use his own money on you.
"John you...didn't have to..." you cringe a little when you catch your own slip up. He gives you a curious look. A tiny nod is the only signal you get. He's fine with it. It manages to relieve a weight in your chest, the one that's been bothering you about the balance between the two of you. Of what is too far. What is too much.
You gently take the sketch book out of his hands, and he places the little pencil case on top of it. "Nah don't mention it, thought ye might enjoy having something to do that isn’t just working." You feel your cheeks warm up a bit at the call out.
Your teeth latches onto your lower lip, your eyebrows furrowing along with it to create the difficult expression. He looks so excited about this gift. It sometimes feels a little like having a dog standing in front of you, his tail wagging excitedly at the mere possibility of you showing even a hint of approval.
"Just think of it as an early Christmas gift."
You can see why Simon has taken a liking to him. When you first meet him, he's an imposing figure. Even if he puts his good side forward, there's an underlying darkness. A thing you haven't been able to dig out of him yet, but you can see it in the way he moves, in the way he carries himself through social situations.
It's no doubt to you that every single one of the men living under this roof have a deadly touch. They've killed, and they'd kill again if they were ordered to it. It makes you wonder what their moral compass is like. How far is too far. Would they have done what you did, if they were in your position?
Would they understand.
Whatever Simon was put through it had been rough on him, enough to confine himself to a mask. John seemed understanding of him. He always seemed understanding of the things around him. He cared for things. He took care of things, even if that is in his own ways. You watch him love Simon like it's the easiest thing in the world. It's a quiet love, barred behind closed doors for safety but it's there. You see it, in their actions.
You wish you could be like that. Take responsibility in the same way. You've never loved normally, and part of you is sure you never will. Your love is an obsession. It's an all-consuming sickness, burrowing itself in the cavity of your chest. You are an all-consuming idea. You lick your tongue over bloodied ribs, you sink teeth into the heart. Your touch leaves marks and scrapes, that will hurt and destroy.
There's no part of you that should be loved in the way John loves Simon. Yet you crave that attention so viscerally, you'd do anything for it, to be the object of someone's eye once again.
"Thank you..." the words are quiet but it still makes him smile.
"Do show me what ye come up with, ah have a feeling inspiration will strike when it's just right" he speaks like he knows. He's so sure of himself, that you almost believe him just from that. He's the smart type, he'll figure it out.
He'll figure it out.
You shake your head. He won't unless you give him or any of the rest any reason to suspect anything. So far, you're just a weirdo, right?
"Yeah, I will," you try to give him an easy-going smile. Your thoughts should stay on the goal ahead. Whatever this dinner will bring, you have an objective now.
"Do we have to?" you turn away from their front door to face John again. You had gone along this far without complaint. The event of the evening hadn't seemed so daunting before you were standing Infront of the Evans family's lusciously decorated front door.
The first sign of their religion already came at the first glance. The giant cross put in the middle, surrounded by decorated plants and Christmas reds and greens.
"Yes, we do, and ye know that" he says with a soft chuckle, yet he remains still with you in front of the door.
"We could turn around now, Price doesn't have to know, there's a market in town we're just as likely to get information there than here." You aren't sure why exactly you're trying to convince him, when you're well aware you aren't getting out of this without the use of force. Which is definitely not ideal either.
He shakes his head, an amused smile flashing your way. "Price'll know, trust me he always somehow knows," he speaks from experience.
"It'll be over before ye know it, and we can always go to the market afterwards if ye'd like that," he offers as a middle ground. As if it was about the market in the first place.
You lean forward to press their doorbell with a sigh. If you were quick enough you could find the signs and leave. The shallow hope resides in your chest like an anchor to reality. You knew it wouldn't happen, not the way you wanted it to.
You take a step back when Mrs. Evans opens the door with half a squeal to make you wince. Her smile is so bright it borders something disturbing. "Oh my goodness, it's so good to see you two! Come in, come in!" she exclaims.
You step inside, giving her a soft smile and the friendliest greeting you can think of. Anything to make you come across as normal and not an anxious lunatic. She's wearing a beautiful floral print dress reaching down to her ankles, her hair done up in braids tucked into a bun.
Your hands twitch, muscle memory settling into your reflexes as you remember. The younger ones had loved that type of hair. You had been the best at doing it.
The signs will be subtle but they will be there
The Father's voice echo within your head as you step into the foyer.
I never abandon my children to the dark
The inside of their home is almost as obnoxious as their loud front door. Everything is Christmas times a hundred, but only the right kind. The one that praises God, the holy, the pure.
"Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Evans" you give her your best crafted smile. She clasps her hands together and gives you one in return.
"Oh please, I always make it a point to acquaint myself with anyone new. So few come all the way out to our lovely little community, it's a blessing to see good new faces, and I told Frank you two make such a cute couple I couldn't resist inviting you over and getting to know you!"
You freeze at that. Couple? You hadn't said anything about that. Had John...you give him a look but he doesn't look back at you, his eyes focused on Mrs. Evans.
"And we're glad you did, we're both happy that the community is so welcoming, we were a bit worried at first," John doesn't correct her. Is he being serious right now. Did he really tell her that the two of you were together. What in the world was he thinking. What about Simon.
"Please, take off your shoes, settle in settle in! Make yourself at home," she encourages the both of you. There's little time to reflect on his choice, and even less to scold him about it. For now, you'll just have to play along, pretend as if you know what in the world she's talking about.
You discard your shoes and jacket in their rightful places, keep a respectful distance from most things in their foyer to avoid accidentally knocking over the copious number of trinkets they've got out on display.
"I hope you like roasted pork," she leads you into the living room where the warmth of the roaring fireplace encloses around you. "My husband made sure to get the best from the market this morning."
"It smells delicious, I'm sure you're a lovely cook" John stands closer to her. She giggles and waves him off with a bashful expression.
"Oh please, I'm just fine but you'll get a taste for yourself soon enough."
They've got a tree out, ornaments putting it in a white and golden light. Each one engraved with something. It's too small to read. Drawings around the room, done in crayon and childish paint, hung on the spaces on the walls.
John makes small talk with Mrs. Evans, some of relevance some not. It all becomes white noise as your eyes dart around the room. A pet bowl stands near the entrance to the kitchen, it's empty. Paintings of moments of importance from the scriptures are hung neatly on the walls. You recognize most of them, while a few are vaguer for your imagination.
"Excuse me," you try to be as polite as you can butting into their conversation. "Where's your bathroom?" you gesture awkwardly around the room with your hand.
"Oh! Just down the hall sweetie, the first door on your right" Mrs. Evans points back out towards the hallway you had gone through. You thank her, before retreating back out there. Away from the prying eyes of hers.
The hallway is almost worse than the living room. Decorations are splayed about, and it's probably the most visually interesting thing you've come across. Overstimulating almost. You come to a stop Infront the circular mirror, you ignore it in favour of directing your interest towards the display on the little table in front.
It's been decorated in many different colours, plants, pine, ornaments and Christmas cards. All of them coded in some way with the scriptures or religious practice that's been taught to them. Your hand traces over the little ornament, the words hollowing out inside your mind. Reactivating prayers that lay dormant.
'Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart - Proverbs 3:3'
You know words of prayer by heart. You've spent countless nights reciting them, practicing them, committing them to memory so you could receive a reward morning come.
And then you had spent countless nights crying them out in a prayer for help, for rescue. You had spent countless restless nights turning your throat raw, screaming to a god that never actually listened.
This home is oversaturated with them.
There's truth to be found in them, one you pretend to no longer care for. You walk further down the hallway, inspecting every ornament, every inscription. All the little signs that could distinguish this home from a loving religious household, to one that does the bidding of the collective.
There has to be signs. Tiny little things. Anything at all that can lead you towards the presence of The Father, of your home. He rarely goes anywhere without doing so, to lead his rightful children back to where they belong, no matter how far out they might have gone.
It was a lesson he taught you early on.
There'll always be a place for you in my arms.
The shadows still take his face, and use his voice. They still taunt you despite how much you try to fight it. You think they might not even stop if you were to finally give in to them.
You come to an open door. A child's bed room. It's clad in golds and pinks, blending together in the context of a princess design. The little kid is there too, her golden hair almost shining in the big lamp light above. A halo around her head. She's pure.
She would be so easily corruptible.
"Are you mommy's guest?" she doesn't seem nervous at all. "Oh! Do you wanna see my toys? Mommy says I can get more for Christmas!"
Let her be innocent. Please. Let her be free of it.
You walk closer wordlessly. An easy smile settles on your lips, exactly how you used to do with the young. "Yeah, those are some cool toys" you try to mimic her tone of excitement. "Are they new?"
You settle down onto your knees next to her. Her toys keep the same colours scheme as her room, except for a few baby blues and greens. She excitedly shows you her favourite.
You're careful not to touch her as she drags you through her collection of colourful ponies. She's too young. Let her be too young to know.
He starts young.
Let her be too young.
Your eyes search her body for scars, bruises, any mark at all but find nothing but the smooth skin you envied. "Do you go to church often little one?" you ask and settled down on the floor next to her in a more comfortable position.
"Mhm! It's a bit boring sometimes though, don't tell mommy I said that," she snickers and puts a finger over her mouth.
"Have you ever wanted more out of it?"
She shrugs barely interested in your words, clearly boring her about just as much as the lectures she would find within the church. You reach out, grab her arm with a force that gets her eyes to widen.
"Deus spes nostra," your eyes bore into hers searching for even the tiniest sign of recognition within her.
You spoke a tiny prayer within your mind, let her be innocent, let her be free.
"Deus lux mea est."
Your stomach sinks, your eyes searching for the source standing in the open doorway. She couldn't be much older than you had been. She had the same expression you would wear back then, masked by the anxiety swimming in your gut.
The family has two daughters.
The little one, uninterested in the religious practice being thrust upon her as she grows. She'll change her mind as she gets older, turn to the so-called light stained by the blood red sky above her.
And the older one.
He's raising a new angel.
It's the only thing that makes sense. A new angel to take the place you left hollow when you fled. He's starting from the bottom up, creating something better, something stronger. And by how she stares you down from across the table, it wouldn't be crazy to think she knows of you.
You can only pray she would keep her mouth shut. That she wouldn't alert your presence to anyone of importance. Or you could dispose of her. The plan formulates all too quickly in the back of your brain, how you'd do it, what you'd do with the corpse afterwards, the explanations of your absence to the team.
Depending on how deep in her training she is, you're unsure whether it's a fight you want to pick alone. She's so much younger than you, inexperienced but fresher without the pains of a weakened body.
"Love, could you pass me the salt?"
You freeze, your head whipping to John in surprise. Despite the agreed cover you hadn't expected him to pull out anything extra. Was that really needed? As if Mrs. Evans hadn't already fussed over the two of you enough.
"Yeah..." you pick up the salt and pass it to him. Your eyes leaving the new angel.
"Are the two of you settling in well?" Mrs. Evans speaks up clear startling her youngest. "I know the valley can be difficult to get accustomed to especially this time of year!"
She has a faux type of energy that rubs you the wrong way.
"We're settling in just fine, kind of you to worry" John responds with optimism. How does these people not rub him the wrong way, can't he see it? Or is he just that much better at masking it than you are. Likely it's the latter and it doesn't help your annoyance.
"Ah it's nothing, gotta look out for the young love in our community" her knife squeaks against her plate when she cuts a piece of meat. It hurts your ears. The table itself is clad in imperfect white frills, candles in the middle, surrounded by fruits, potatoes and meat galore.
"Isn't that right honey?" she elbows her husband in the arm. His eyes have been glued his plate since you took a seat. He's barely eaten a thing. When he doesn't answer her, she clears her throat and nudges him again.
"Mh..yeah."
She lets out an awkward little laugh, her uncomfortable stature satisfies something in you. John smiles unsure towards her as he takes another bite of his own food.
"Oh, darling you've barely eaten a thing? Do you feel ill?" Mrs. Evans directs her attention to you when she doesn't get the response she's looking for. You mentally curse out the man of the house for not taking up her conversation.
"No, I'm alright, just had a big lunch that's all" you give her your best attempt at a disarming smile. Let her buy it. Don't dig.
You pick up your fork and pick up the piece of meat you had cut for yourself. It doesn't go down easy. The heat burns your tongue, and the texture drags in your throat. It settles wrong in your stomach.
"It's such a good thing the two of you decided to come to church! The community is always so excited over newcomers, I'm sure you'll make lots of friends in due time." You have to give it to her, her excitement seems as genuine as it gets. Whatever lays beneath, she believes in it wholeheartedly.
"Yeah, we're happy to have found it so receptive. We have a lot to learn from a tight knit community like this, but I'm sure there's only good things to come. We've also been thinking about expanding our horizons, attend some things more than just the Sunday mass." John replies in an excited tone. He's good at mimicking the interest in their practice, but you suppose it's not entirely fabricated.
"Oh but of course! You absolutely need to come by Wednesday when the choir practices. My own two girls are apart of it, and they've got the most angelic little voices, do you not?" she glances towards them with hope in her eyes.
The little one smiles bright at you, nodding along rapidly to what her mother is telling. The elder remains quiet. "They both work so hard too! I mean you should have seen it when they first started, a bit uncoordinated but they sharpened up quickly. A few private lessons and it put them right on track with the others!"
She sounds proud.
Her happiness disgusts you.
The daughters are silent listening on to their mother singing their praises on a topic they'd clearly rather avoid. It's in their faces, even the younger one, the distaste, the compliance. The new angel still has her eyes on you, ever focused on your moves, your expressions, your reactions. She's too observant for your liking.
You make a mental note to ask Laswell for any and all information on this family, on her.
There'll be plenty of work to do once you go home from this. You doubt you'll get much sleep. You only hope your sleep deprived state won't cause you too much trouble, and that the 4 men living under the same room won't make too many comments. You got voices enough in your head to listen to.
The rest of the dinner is spent observing the family's dynamic, marking off mental notes of their reactions to one another. You've got down the mother’s devotion, the daughters forced contribution, the father’s detachment to the world around him as if nothing matters to him anymore.
He's been here
This place is filthy with his prints
He's planted the seeds and they've taken root deep within them
"Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Evans. It was delicious."
"Oh, don't mention it Mr. Mctavish, it was my pleasure to host the two of you" she gushes as you move out the front door and back into the snowy town. John follows close behind, his hand holding tightly onto yours as if to keep you in check, so you don't go running off prematurely.
You guess he still doesn't fully trust you after your little stunt.
"We'll see you in church on Sunday! Stay safe now," Mrs. Evans waves you off and closes her front door with a prominent click.
You let out a deep sigh, finally being out of there. "You did good," John says and gives you a smile. His hand is still in yours, a warm weight you don't feel like letting go just yet. Luckily, he doesn't seem to want to either as he tugs on your arm to walk in tow.
You let him lead you, tugging your jacket further around yourself. "So are you not a fan of family dinners at all, or was that just as intense as it felt like back there," John says with a chuckle. You a crack a smile of your own. You could still feel your muscles tense state, at least you hadn't been completely alone in it.
"Would you believe me if I said both," there's amusement in your voice bordering a reciprocal chuckle. He looks to you with a fonder smile.
"Yeah."
His attention is taken off of you again when you hear the faint music down the street. Christmas carols, songs of joy. It seems to spark interest in him as he quickly changes course.
The closer you get the more extravagant the decorations around town seem to become. Fairy lights are hung from house to house, and across streets, becoming shimmering lights above you, like golden stars in the night sky to guide you to where you're meant to be.
"It's beautiful..." your voice is but a whisper, staring up at the marvel. A rough hand comes to graze against your jaw. The hand that isn't holding yours guide your eyes to the bigger display at the centre of the upcoming square, the giant tree in the middle, the band in front of it playing songs for a dancing crowd.
His hand squeezes yours, making you look down. His thumb rubs soothing motions over your skin, like it's meant to be there. Your eyes trail back up to his face, but he isn't watching you. No, that amused face is captivated by your surroundings. There's something unmistakably beautiful about him in this kind of lighting, and you count yourself blessed enough to be allowed to see it before your end.
Your teeth clench together as your mind drifts back to the dinner. The one question you want to ask lies on the tip of your tongue, and before you can stop yourself.
"John back there why did you make us a couple, we could've been anything to them you didn't have to-" you bite down on your tongue, looking away from him as his eyes come back to you.
"It was the first thing that came to mind, didn't think it would bother ye that much." John is quick to respond, his concern edging into his tone. You swallow uncomfortably, and the hand that lies in yours suddenly feels wrong, like rubbing your hand on a cheese grater.
"But you and Simon..."
"He doesn't mind."
Your brows furrow, because what does he mean he doesn't mind. He should mind. He should really, really mind.
"But-"
"Dance with me."
He comes to stand in front of you, blocking the view of the spectacle ahead and becoming the new one instead. Light shines around him like he was sent from the heavens, a beacon for you to follow. The workings within your mind are dangerous, the connections they start to make.
"What?"
"Dance with me." He's steadfast not taking no for an answer as he gently grabs your other hand and moulds you into the right position. He doesn't start right away, waits for your muscles to relax, for the surprise on your face to morph into something different.
Then he leads you, and you follow.
You haven't danced much in your life if at all, and it shows in your clumsy movements, in the way you look down at your feet as to not step on his. He doesn't say a word, not a single complaint is heard. He spins you around with a soft smile on his lip, hums along with the tune of the song in the back.
It takes you half the song but you start to grow more confident, your steps more bold, more assured. A smile cracks out on your own lips, and when he spins you around again you can't help the laughter that crackles from your throat, the tickling in your body.
"You don't have to worry so much you know," he whispers close to your ear, your back to his front.
"We've got you."
He spins you back around, guides your steps until you've successfully danced yourself over to the rest of the moving crowd. His hand finds a resting place on your waist, the other one aiding you to make sure you stay in place. Your steps become unsteady, trying to not bump into people but he doesn't let go. He doesn't let you fall.
You don't know what changed for you that day, but later on you've come to realize, the feelings within you have morphed into something else, and whether you liked it or not, they would continue down that path. It's too late to walk away.
Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3
Taglist: @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @haipasa @woodlandgirl22-blog-blog @kaoyamamegami @ellabellabunny123 @chickennn-soupp @spicyspicyliving @lilynotdilly
#the divine violence#anomalyfiction#ghoap x reader#ghoap#ghost x reader x soap#ghost x soap x reader#john soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#kyle gaz garrick#john price#john soap mctavish x you#john soap x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x gender neutral reader
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✨Let's talk about OCs!✨ How would you describe your OC's personality/aesthetic? What's your favourite thing about them? Tell us a fun fact(s) about your OC or their creation!❤️ Send this to at least 3 people to spread some OC appreciation!❤️
HI HELLO I JUST did a Dragon Age Blorbos appreciation post so now I get to talk about my Watchers also, HECK YES.
I talk about their angsty lore a lot so for a change of pace, going to share my favorite silly things about them
Selene Moonborn:
goes ham for good paper and ink. she used to be a scribe in her acolyte of Ondra years and she doesn't really get to do calligraphy or illustrations anymore (she picks it back up as a little hobby in the timeskip between POE1 and POE2, she doesn't have THAT much time for it though), but she'll still buy the really good stuff if she sees it in the wild. the absolute best thing you can buy for her is a bottle of that shimmery blue ink her temple used, which is nefariously hard to track down, but it's her absolute favorite
incredibly bad at flirting. she's a literal telepath and she still can't do it. her charm works only on Edér and only when she's not doing it on purpose, in every other situation she'll just stand there like 🧍🏻
perpetual :/ face. woman who is too busy holding back The Voices to emote
her cipher brainwaves will sometimes cause wild animals to follow her around for a while (ranger Selene foreshadowing)
Mae Briarheart:
as a Goldpact Knight she is an Efficient and Practical Professional. she is also a show-off. if there's an opportunity to do a sick trick while in combat she WILL take it. also has a flair for the dramatic/intense in general, which she tries to curb but she doesn't always succeed
always has a book in her pack because you never know when you need to kill some time, and they're always the Eoran equivalent of like. Jane Austen. convoluted romances with Social Dynamics are her favorite genre of fiction even though actually being in this kind of situation would drive her up the wall
after POE1 she and Hiravias keep rescheduling their duel where he's supposed to kill her for trespassing on his people's sacred sites and she's supposed to kill him for (checks notes) "being annoying". he keeps showing up like an hour late and going "aw, rats, I missed it" and Mae goes "guess we'll have to reschedule" and then they just hang out. world's normalest friendship
Lorenzo Ciro:
he's shy, but if you give him the space to express himself he WILL. between the events of POE1 and Deadfire he discovers that actually he likes bright clothes and loud singing and maybe the whole death omen branding is not ALL there is to him
in a weird relationship with his summoned phantoms because many of them are people he killed, but also he definitely did conjure a phantom just to have someone to talk to once or twice
kisses Aloth at the end of POE1 and then they don't talk about it for five years (well they do, but basically it boils down to Aloth feeling that he's not ready to be in a relationship and that he needs to take care of other things first, so they wait)
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"It's three seasons old, at least," said Phillip, in a pained voice. "What sort of provincial backwater did you buy it in?" "The Little Dover Dress Shop." Visander bit out each word, fuming that he knew the answer. "It still has an empire waist," said Phillip, a kind of agony on his face. "You know, here we have fashion, we don't just go about wearing robes for ten thousand years." "I care nothing for your human fashions, worm," spat Visander.
Dark Heir by CS Pacat is a comedy. Or, in other words: if book 3 is not a married-life sit-com between Phillip and Visander I riot.
(In other, other words: there are so many fantastic romantic dynamics in this book, but the one couple I have imprinted on like a baby duckling is the queer murder-machine with tunnel vision stuck in the body of a Victorian ingénue and his husband Who Really Does Not Want To Be Here and can endure his wife being "a dead man from a defunct world" but draws the line at him not dressing for dinner.)
#dark rise#dark heir#me when Visander was introduced: oh no he's going to take time away from the characters I love#me after like two chapters in his pov: he is the character I love actually#same with Phillip except he's not even a pov character#introduction: oh no who cares about Simon's brother no one mentioned in book 1#I do I care#oh no a character who is being forced to fill his dead brother's shoes when that brother was obviously their father's favorite#and who is obviously so much better than his brother but because his interests run to fashion and balls and carriage#instead of to world domination he's been discounted by the people around him his entire life#who is fundamentally kind and compassionate and no one seems to appreciate it#anyway I have finally gotten around to reading this book and inhaled it in less than 24 hours and I'm going to be very annoying about it#visander#phillip creen
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Guys I'm so tired.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6a1862b6c0f5ff50e50e5c00ad6bb186/f72965a9c1284f45-29/s540x810/d78f002efcd9183138df1557228fa8e60ca4db6f.jpg)
#guys please. havent we moved past this#i thought the rampant acephobia of the 2010s had died off. why r we still having this discussion#im just asking people to be normal. thats literally all im asking#is it that hard?#arcane#hazbin hotel#i havent even watched hazbin hotel. i just know yall wont fucking be normal about him being aroace#i almost put caduceus from cr on this bc i was in the trenches when he came out as aroace and i saw all the annoying posts#but actually people got over that pretty fast and are super chill about it now which i appreciate#asexual#ace
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WAIT BIG BRAINED THOUGHT:
Sam does smth stupid hoping Dean won't find out.
Someone rats Sam out to Dean.
Sam gets in trouble and a lecture from Dean (bc Dean is a parent and he is Sam's parent I will not accept criticism on this matter).
Later, Sam makes a group chat consisting of everyone who could have told on him to Dean and just sends this video:
#supernatural#spn#dean winchester#sam winchester#dean winchester is sam winchester's parent#and i will be accepting NO criticism on this matter!!!!#dean raised sam and in my heart i just know that its smth they dont really talk abt but they both 100% know and acknowledge it#and sam (the annoying little brother/kid) that he is to dean definitely calls dean 'mom' sometimes especially when hes being a little shit#but sam also loves his big brother and appreciates everything deans done and given up for him#so every year dean gets a pie and a little homemade card on mother's day and father's day from sam#when they were younger sam would give dean the card and actually say 'happy mother's/father's day dean' but once theyre older sam starts#sneaking the pie and card into dean's room or leaving them somewhere he knows dean will find them and neither of them say anything but dean#always gives sam a soft smile and usually a hug too before they continue w/ their day like its any other#the year dean spends w/ lisa and ben while sam's in hell/running around soulless ben makes dean a father's day card and dean gets all teary#and thanks him but then later when hes alone he just breaks down sobbing bc it just remimds him that sammy is gone#even when sam was at stanford and not really talking to dean he still sent dean a short message (text email voicemail whatever) on mother's#and father's day but now hes gone and dean wont even get that#btw dean def saves all of the cards sam's made him over the years and once theyre in the bunker he keeps them all in a special box that he#hides under his bed and he'll pull it out and look through them when hes having a bad day alongside the box of pictures <3#i did not mean to go insane in the tags here but oh well#enjoy my silly post and unhinged rambling ig
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~
#they speak!#it's probably just the illness that's making me extra irritable but like.#roommate kept coming up to me this morning going oh did i wake you up? i'm sorry if i did. did i do that or no? i'm really sorry.#and i kept telling him to stop saying sorry because i didn't have the brain power to phrase#'you could've been more considerate of your volume but you also have the right to use the common space so it's whatever'#but he said it to me again before i went to my room just now and it's like. ok. shut up.#if you actually cared that much u would've just been quieter in the first place actually.#anyways. annoyed. there were some annoying customers in the store today but it was whatever.#i feel like my fucks to give had already worn out with all the ppl in my social circle/my parents and the recent ongoings of that#[redacted] was being passive aggressive to me in the group chat and it's like. ok! idk what u want from me.#and i'm grateful for them for coming over and helping me with cleaning last week#and it's those sorts of actions that let me know they care and want good things for me#but like. i haaaate telling them anything because even innocuous non-private things get turned into judgement with them.#also. more and more i can feel how i'm drifting away from h and now with retrospect i can see how we mutually hurt each other :)#i keep coming back to this one period where i really wanted to take them to try dimsum and they kept saying they were too scared to try it#and in their new friend group they regularly go out n get dimsum together. which on the surface is like. why didn't you want to go with /me#i told you i wanted to share what i liked and i would explain what things were and i could do the talking and you still said no#but it's also very much a reflection of how i always rolled over and enabled them. i never challenged them. i was always passive.#i also feel like i'm heavily neglecting e and a recently and i can tell how the physical distance is affecting us and idk. it's weird.#anyways. another post that should've been a journal entry! lol!#when [redacted] helped with cleaning they also buried my journal under my like#300 packets of sesame candies and i can't be bothered to dig it out. also my bandaids are missing now. <3#ik this also sounds passive aggressive but genuinely appreciate the help i just kinda hate how they think hidin everything in boxes is good#'we need to get you some more storage boxes and containers!!' actually i think that will be the opposite of helpful.#i need everything visible and on open surfaces so i can 1) remember they exist for me to use and 2) not have barriers for me to get to them
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Ngl I've always headcanoned my yuu to befriend kalim and be his cheerleader, moral support, and a coach (if needed) to accelerate kalim's growth in life-skill learning because I want his retainer all to myself lmao. Call it investment or whatever
Hasdfh let’s hope your Yuu is careful enough not to give Kalim a disproportionate amount of attention or said retainer might get very much the wrong idea.
What a way to be thinking ahead to get what you want, truly diligence worthy of Scarabia.
#twisted wonderland#kalim al-asim#jamil viper#ner talks#chatting with folks#just imagining jamil's mixed emotions here#being annoyed that you seem to be putting kalim first (just like everyone else)#and then when/if he figures out why you're doing it#I have a feeling he'd be flattered#perhaps even impressed#yet I do wonder if there'd be a part of him feeling like you've been stepping on “his turf” with kalim#like not a rational part mind you#but you can't be told that you're responsible for another person and their well-being for so long without it warping one's thoughts somewha#he sure would appreciate the respite (once he'd learn that he can indeed leave Kalim to his own devices and it's fine)
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I was really excited that our mom was getting into arcane cause im feeling like its going to end up being a hyperfix, so i wont have to feel so alone about it. but Martyr kinda gave me a reality check. she'll just tell us to shut up; she wont care as much as us, never does. nobody wants to listen to us talk. we should've just watched it alone.
usually i'd tell him to fuck off, but he's not wrong. happens the same way every time. she's never cared for listening to anything i have to say, much less about my interests. even when she shares them.
-Lennon
#i dont know. i guess at least i wont be disappointed when she just tells us we're being annoying.#Martyr is a headmate btw. We dont talk about him much cause he rarely full fronts n hes not really allowed on socials cause he's a dick.#i appreciate friends listening but yknow. our parents dont and thats a tough void to fill. we dont have any irl friends either; cant even#get close.#:(#dogz distressed
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series 3 is so frustrating because there is like a shining core of pure diamond underneath the problems . like conceptually it rocks so incredibly hard. but the problems
#dr who#i am being so honest when i say ten should have gotten on his knees and begged for simm!master's life#they should have framed the bit between him and martha's mom so different#like yes it is 10000% in character that the doctor with his bleeding heart and loneliness wouldn't want to kill him#even after everything that happened. because he's the only person he has left. 'i forgive you' was PERFECT.#but literally anyone else that suffered from what the master did. Deserves to rip him to shreds. so very obviously#and like i know.i KNOW that i am watching the 'funny immortal alien saves people through time and space' show#but i actually despise the doctor being framed as like an all powerful savior. or treated like one. even for a little bit. is Annoying#the first part of the series 3 finale having martha be humanity's last hope was SO GOOD bc it like kind of set her up as like#having to grapple with all that responsibility and attention like the doctor does. everyone's lives are in her hands. so crunchy#but when it like slides into 'everyone pls believe in our specialest boy in the world The Doctor <3' it just. falls flat#i feel like with a couple tweaks here and there in the execution and like actual fuckinnn people of color in the writer's room#series 3 would be PEAK media. but as it is it's just. falling short.#i do really appreciate martha deciding to leave ten on her own though. first of all. qpp down. second of all#she's realized that she can't keep traveling with him. bc (as i mentioned) hes someone who simultaneously needs saving#and refuses to be saved in the ways that matter. Yes im fucking ignoring the unrequited romance angle i think#it does a gigantic disservice to martha's character if u boil her down to that. fight me i dont care if that was the authorial intent#martha in the end is too kind to ten and ten keeps making her watch his meandering path of self destruction. toxic doomed qprism to ME.#anyway fuck. idk man series 2 consensus was that im dead inside and series 3 consensus is that the version i have of it in my head is peak#series 2 is better but i think because of my ten martha insanity i actually enjoyed watching series 3 more than series 2.#even if i got mad at it more than any other season. i think something is wrong with me. um. lmao#ten and martha#10 era
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