#and then when i returned they were enemies. AGAIN. even though i spent like 3 sim weeks trying to get them to have a good relationship agai

[sprolden]

i love playing the sims and making these ppls lives as terrible as possible. my sim is about to go to prom and his two girlfriends and boyfriend will all be there and it's going to be awful for everyone involved. cant wait

[mynameismckenziemae]

I Love You Two

Part 1

(next part here)

Bradley Bradshaw x OFC x Jake Seresin.

Summary:

You (Olivia ‘Liv’ Kazansky) have been chasing Bradley Bradshaw as soon as you learned to walk. He follows his dad’s footsteps and joins the Navy after high school, and you move across the country for college a few years later at 18.

10 years pass but you never forget that brown-eyed boy…maybe that’s why yet another relationship fails. The friendship with Bradley is easily rekindled when you move back home, along with the feelings you’ve tried to suppress. It seems he feels the same about you after an incredible, life-changing night together. But he’s gone the next morning, without a word or even a note, leaving you heartbroken and humiliated.

A few months later, a green-eyed aviator defends your honor from a drunk patron while you’re bartending. To show your thanks, you buy him a drink that leads to a month-long fling, and a plan to pursue more when he gets back from his deployment.

After returning from a rough deployment of his own, Bradley’s determined to find you as soon as his feet touch dry land. Undeterred when you ignore his phone calls and leave his texts on read, he heads to the Hard Deck, hoping you’re there or that Penny will take pity on him. He’s spent countless nights beating himself up for leaving you the way he did and nothing will stop him from telling you how he really feels before he begs for your forgiveness and another chance.

But he finds you in the arms of the man who’s made the last 3 months of his life a living hell.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

This is going to be a love triangle, why choose, enemies to lovers, repressed bisexuality, polyamorous angsty story. Please let me know if you have any questions and if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

Like everything else I write/post/reblog, this is not intended for anyone under the age of 18. It will contain adult language, themes, and situations. MDNI!

Warnings: Angst, adult language, smut.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

A feeling of nostalgia has your hand pausing as you reach for the picture sitting on your dresser.

The 3-year-old version of yourself is grinning up at 6-year-old Bradley who’s sticking his tongue out to make you laugh. Even back then it was obvious you thought he hung the moon.

Bradley had always been so good to you; letting you tag along with his friends to play baseball, wiping your tears in middle school when you’d gotten teased for your braces, punching your wasted boyfriend for getting too handsy after prom. He wrote to you when he joined the Navy after he graduated, and let you crash at his shitty apartment when you were in college when he was stationed in Pensacola for spring break.

You were good to him too; you helped him pick out flowers for his crush for Valentine’s Day (even though it broke your heart), gave him your shoulder to cry on at his mom’s funeral, and bought him a pink, purple and blue pride flag when he came out to you as bisexual.

The two of you drifted apart when he got into a serious relationship, and not long after you did too.

Both relationships ended, he stayed single and you tried again, but it didn’t last either. You found yourself missing home. Missing Bradley.

The two of you picked up where you had left off when you moved home, like you’d never been apart. Your dormant feelings for him came back too, more intensely than ever. You started to suspect he felt the same; his once innocent touches now held intent, and you caught the heat in his gaze when his brown eyes lingered.

The simmering tension reached the boiling point the night before he deployed. One too many drinks at the Hard Deck gave you the courage to tell him how you felt; that you were in love with him.

Cold nauseating dread crept in at his silence from your admission. But then he kissed you. And didn’t stop.

A shiver dances down your spine at the memory of that night together; the way he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you with his mouth, hands, and cock, knowing your body like a longtime lover. You’d fallen asleep with a smile on your face, wrapped in his arms as the sunlight began to creep in through your bedroom windows.

A few hours later, you woke up cold and alone.

You hurried out of bed to see if he was in the kitchen or at least left a note. But the Bronco was gone and no note in sight. No new texts or missed calls when you’d found your phone. You’d fallen to the floor with a sob, heart-shattering when you’d dialed his number and went straight to voicemail.

When he didn’t reach out and avoided the Hard Deck when he came home for leave, you’d lost all hope.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

You blink back the tears threatening to spill over now as you return to the present.

Taking a deep breath, you toss the framed photo into the box containing the rest of the things he gave you or reminded you of him before shoving it under your bed.

Next, you put on a set of clean sheets, you can’t help but picture how you’re going to dirty them with Jake.

He’s due back from his own deployment any day now and you couldn’t wait to have him over for the first time. During your month-long fling, you’d preferred his apartment as the heartbreak from Bradley had been too fresh and you hadn’t been ready to welcome another man into your home yet.

Jake unintentionally snuck through the walls you constructed around your heart a few months after you’d given up on Bradley.

While bartending, a drunk patron had started to get handsy. You’d noticed Jake watching, but you had it handled; brushing it off at first and then getting stern. When the drunk cornered you in the hallway, you got scared. But Jake had stepped in with his southern drawl and escorted him (none too gently) outside. You’re not sure what Jake said, but the color drained from the drunk’s face, and hasn’t been back since.

You had a cold beer waiting on the bar for him when he came back inside, shaking your head when he pulled out his wallet. So he claimed a stool at the end of the bar instead and proceeded to chat you up all night.

Like a moth to a flame, you were drawn to him; he was so easy on the eyes, a cocky- sarcastic-yet-somehow-still-charming-asshole. And he made you laugh, really laugh for the first time since Bradley broke your heart.

After the last call, he laid you down on the pool table and knelt on the beer-sticky floor to eat you out. The wrecked groan he let out when you pulled his hair had your toes curling and sent you spiraling. He too, because when you pulled him up with an order to fuck you, he mumbled an embarrassed, “Give me 5 minutes and I will,” before kissing you and doing just that.

The following weeks were the same; frenzied, hot, unable to keep your hands off the other. But during the times the two of you had to come up for air, you started falling for him.

You’d expected the worst when he asked to see you the night before he was scheduled to deploy for 3 months. But instead of another heartache, he asked not only to continue things when he returns but to make it official.

He’s called you every chance he got; which wasn’t many but you cherished each one. He didn’t talk much about life on the carrier besides complaining about a jerk in his new squadron but never elaborated, preferring to listen to you in the limited time he was granted.

The ping of an incoming text pulls you from your thoughts.

Penny: Have I told you lately that I love you?

Liv: 😑 Who called in?

Penny: Jimmy

Liv: I’ll be there at 4

Penny: You really are the best kiddo. Thank you.

Liv: You owe me 😘

With a sigh, you finish making your bed and get in the shower.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

There are a few more texts when you get out of the shower and your heart speeds up when you see it’s from Jake.

Jake: Hey sweetheart

Jake: Just found out I’ll be stateside soon

Jake: I can’t wait to see you

Liv: I can’t wait to see you either, but I’m helping Penny out tonight until 10, Jimmy called out.

Jake: Goddamn it, Jimmy.

Liv: Right? You can always visit me too.

Jake: I’ll be there. Did you hear anything about that job?

Liv: I can’t believe you remembered. I got it! Orientation starts in a few weeks.

Jake: Congratulations! I’m thinking we should celebrate?

Liv: Thank you 😘 what are you thinking?

Jake: My head between your thighs to start.

Liv: I like the way you think.

Jake: I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you soon.

Liv: Can’t wait.

Jake: Me either

You feel like you’re on cloud nine as you get ready, spending a little extra time on your hair and makeup in anticipation of seeing him.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Your phone rings on your way to the bar and the onslaught of emotions makes your stomach turn at the name on the screen.

Bradley.

You ignore the longing, hurt, anger, humiliation, and unfortunately excitement as you do the same to the call, letting it go to voicemail.

The feelings intensify when he calls again a moment later, but you refuse to do this with him.

Not now. Not ever.

Too little, too late.

He starts texting as you park around the back of the building.

Bradley: Call me when you get a chance.

Bradley: Please?

Bradley: We need to talk.

Bradley: I’m so sorry, I’ll explain everything. Bradley: Just call me back. Please, Liv. Or tell me where you are.

A smile pulls at your lips as you silence your phone before sliding it into your back pocket, leaving him on read.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

To say it’s busy would be an understatement.

You hardly have time to breathe much less overthink things with Bradley for the first few hours. Eventually, he stops; that or your butt cheek has gone numb from the constant vibration through your jean shorts.

“What can I get you?” You ask, not looking up from your open till as khaki approaches the bar from the corner of your eye.

“A blow job?”

Your eyes fly to Jake’s at the sound of his voice.

“The shot of course,” he smirks.

“Of course,” you grin back, pushing the till closed before leaning across the bar to kiss him. You pull back to murmur. “Promise to keep your hands behind your back and swallow it all?”

You’re just teasing, but you don’t miss the way his pupils dilate and the slight flush your words cause. But he recovers, “Spitters are quitters.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, “and I’m no quitter.”

His eyes drop to your lips, remembering how right you are.

A throat clearing has you stepping back.

“Sorry for interrupting whatever the fuck that was,” Natasha says with a disgusted look, “You’re with Bagman, Liv?!”

“Hangman,” Jake corrects, resting his elbow on the bar.

“Whatever,” she’s still looking at you, a bit horrified, a little disgusted.

“Uh…yeah,” you reply, looking at Jake confused as you pull a couple of beers from the fridge before popping the caps off and handing them to her. “Why?”

“Your funeral,” is all she says before walking away.

“What was that all about?” You ask. “Wait-how do you guys know each other?”

“She’s-“ his response is drowned out by Penny ringing the bell, and the cheering that follows, “when’s your break?”

You look at the clock and then the decreasing crowd, “Should be okay to go now if you want to meet me round back? I’ll check with Penny.”

He nods before making his way there.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

“I’ll be out back,” you tell Penny.

She nods just as Bradley struts through the door. He looks so fucking good in those tight jeans and one of Goose’s Hawaiian shirts, unbuttoned. The white undershirt is tight against the abs you traced with your tongue the last time you saw him.

He scans the place but you duck out of sight before he spots you.

Any questions you had and Bradley’s presence are forgotten when you swing open the door. Jake’s leaning against the building, twirling a toothpick with his tongue as he waits.

Your fingers pull it from his mouth and fling it away before meeting him halfway in a heated, biting kiss.

He turns, guiding your back against the wall and you both sigh when your hips meet. You can feel the heat from his erection through the layers of your clothes and when he thrusts, the seam of your shorts rubs your clit just right; you’re suddenly convinced you can’t wait until your shift is over.

“Liv?”

You sigh as he kisses a trail down your neck, not hearing your name being called.

“Liv!”

Recognition tugs as your lust-addled mind but then Jake nips your collarbone while he grinds his hips harder. If he keeps going just like that…

“Olivia!” The door slamming open against the wall beside you makes you both flinch.

“Liv?” The desperation in Bradley’s voice tugs at your heartstrings.

“What do you want Bradley?” You ask as Jake takes a step back, still close but no longer touching.

Bradley’s head whips toward you two, brow furrowing before he pulls Jake off you.

“What the hell!?” Jake pushes him once he gets his footing.

“I-what-Liv?” Bradley stutters before looking to you for an answer.

“What?” You cross your arms.

“I need to talk to you,” Bradley replies, “please.”

“Now you wanna talk?” You laugh without mirth. “Now?! After 6 months of nothing? No calls or texts or emails or letters?”

“Liv,” he winces, “I know. I fucked up, okay? I-“ he looks at Jake, “can we please talk about this privately? Or just not in front of Hangman?”

“Hangman?” You’re confused. Both he and Natasha know Jake’s callsign. “How…?” You trail off as you look between them.

“We were deployed together,” Bradley answers, “he was assigned to the Daggers.”

The thought of them being deployed together had occurred to you, but there were typically several squadrons on the carrier at a time, so it wasn’t likely that they knew each other more than in passing; much less being in the same squadron.

You look at Jake and he nods at your unasked question.

Bradley was the one he’s been complaining about.

“Anything you need to say, you can say in front of Hangman,” you sigh.

“I’d rather not,” Bradley says, his jaw clenching.

“Then fuck off,” you push off the building to head back inside but Bradley reaches for your arm.

“Bradshaw,” Jake warns, taking a step forward.

“I was scared,” Bradley says hoarsely as he releases your arm, “and I panicked. I can’t lose you, Liv. I can’t another person I care about; my parents, Mav…I’ve been beating myself since I left, trying to figure out a way to make things right, and just making things worse by not reaching out. I know. I fucked up and I’m so sorry. Let me make things right.”

“Same old Rooster,” Jake chuckles cruelly as he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “sitting too snug on that perch again, huh? Missed your chance. Again.”

Bradley watches him kiss your cheek and doesn’t look away as his lips start to make their way down your neck. You’re not a fan of being this affectionate in front of others but this feels…different. It almost seems like Bradley likes it too. Until he opens his mouth.

“You’re doing this to hurt me, aren’t you?” Bradley says lowly.

“Doing what to-what are you talking about?” You ask, confused.

“This,” Bradley nods at Jake, “You found out through Uncle Ice that he’s been making my life a living hell and decided to fuck him. Just to stick it to me.”

Jake stops kissing your neck to look at him too.

Hot, hurt tears fill your eyes and spill over before you can blink them back. Bradley’s bravado deflates as he realizes he’s so wrong; that he fucked up. Again.

“Fuck you,” you whisper, voice trembling before heading back inside, Jake shaking his head as he follows.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

A/N: I…dunno what to say. I’m really excited for this and I really hope you’ll like it. What’d ya think? Is Bradley getting what he deserved or too harsh since he’s been through so much?

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I LOVE hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than anything.

Please let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) my taglist…and if I forgot to add you-it wasn’t intentional, just remind me and I’ll get you added.

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[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 3/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Summary: Before he'd be able to meet you again, Homelander has a realization.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Let's be fr he would not fucking say that, but let's pretend he's self-aware. Not proofread and pretty messy.

“I care not for his sanity. I care for his happiness. I care for his soul. Let him be mad if mad is what he needs.” - Queen Charlotte (Bridgerton)

Homelander fit seamlessly into his old life - or rather role.

There wasn't any time to process what had happened, since a throughoutly investigation was quickly followed by bland boring routine again.

Vought almost immediately released a statement concerning Homelanders abscence, something about a secret mission that required him to be undercover. They're even planning to make a movie about this fake bullshit already, unbelievable.

The physical examination that followed was the worst part, at least if you asked him. He loathed hospitals for obvious reasons, their bright white enterior reminding him just a tad bit too much of the Bad Room. Yet in the end they were unable to find any residue of the drug, poison or whatever depowered him in his system.

And while yes, the threat of an unknown enemy having the basis to one day potentially render all supes human again sure was concerning - but the fact that the short time Homelander spent without his powers was the happiest he's ever been left a bitter aftertaste.

You on the other hand had been released after a brief interrogation and background-check. Even now they still worried you might leak top-secret information to the public, but they feared Homelander's fury even more - and he made it absolutely clear that anyone daring to lay just a finger on you would meet a terrifying end.

Both of you had never spoken a word about what else happened between you back in the arctic, but that was none of their business either way.

After all, you were no one.

Your whole existence was insignificant compared to his greatness, there's no way you could ever become a threat to him. Simply live your measly little life and stay out of his one...

...easier said than done when you've practically ingrained yourself into his heart, still consuming his every waking moment.

For the people at Vought somehow a quiet Homelander was even more unsettling than his usual, duplicitous benignity.

They are used to randomly fall victim to his whims, constantly being on edge around him. Basically anything could happen at any time, to anyone and without even so much as a warning.

But as of late...

"Homelander?" Maeve was the only one bold enough to wave in front of his face, making him break the reminiscing. "You there?"

"Hmm?" The man looked around, seeing all eyes on him - business as usual. Ashley was standing in front of the Seven, yet whatever she was babbling about went on deaf ears with her superior.

It was like this ever since his return, this nagging feeling as if he was only physically present. He heard people talk and go about their day but everything was so far away...most of the time he just dozed off into the distance, eyes staring right through until he lost focus of his surroundings.

One corner of his mouth begins to twitch, feeling even more irritated by those oppressing trifles than ever before. He takes a moment to collect himself, hands folded neatly on the table. "Do what you want, I couldn't care less" was his firm answer, even though he didn't know the question - or if he was even asked one. "Excuse me."

"The fuck is his deal lately?" A-Train dared adressing the elephant in the room, albeit still being in super-hearing range, pointing over his shoulder to the door their leader had just rushed out of.

The Deep shrugged, tension leaving his shoulders now that Homelander's overwhelming presence was gone. "Beats me. Let's just hope it stays this way for a while."

He would make a quick getaway, his firm, aggravated steps audible before the man itself came into one's field of view. Anyone who had the misfortune to run into him in this state lowered their heads in hope they wouldn't meet an untimely end just for him to let off some steam.

There's a stench of fear lingering in the air, in every corner of this damn building.

"Vermin" he clenched his jaw as he turned around the corner, slamming the door to his penthouse with so much force that the frame breaks. "Every single one of them."

Ordinary humans were so pathetic-fucking weak, and yet they dictated simply everything. It shouldn't be this way! They should worship the ground he walked - or floated - on, build monuments in his name, but instead what?!

The masses idolized him of course, but that fact came at the extend of his own dignity. He had to perform in order to put on this perfect disguise, always smile and say his lines like a damn puppet...with Vought pulling all of the strings.

Was that really the only thing he was good for? So many abilities, all this potential and yet there he was, doing nothing substantial.

Right now he had everything: The greatest power in the world, wealth he could never fully spent even if he tried and influence beyond one's imagination - and yet he felt as empty as never before.

What a fucking joke.

Employees at Vought knew about his true wicked nature, so he had to rely on fear to control them. It was all he ever knew and felt comfortable with, after all...

...until you came along and willingly chose him. You had peeked into a part of himself he swore to never let anyone too close to - and embraced it. Saw him at his lowest, hell, even got hurt in the process and chose to stay at his side nevertheless.

Even though you missed the whole picture among fragments of himself, he was sure you'd be the only one worthy to know his story.

What he had with you may have been make-believe, but still way realer than anything about his corrupted existence.

Was his heart really nothing but a bottomless pit that could never stop aching?

Homelander's suit had always been like a metaphorical armor - functioning against inconsensual touches of fans as well as sort of a disguise, so people would always only see the hero and never the broken shell of a man beneath it.

But now it felt as if the fabric was burning into his skin, eating away what's left of him. Feeling as if suffocating, he curses beneath heavy breaths as he tossed it away.

It wasn't even the same suit you had repaired for him back then - and right now he painfully regretted having Ashley get rid of it.

There was still the oversized shirt he had worn when he left you, though your scent was only faintly lingering now, even to his keen nose. Well hidden under his pillow to lull him to sleep, he now puts it on as he feverishly tried to imagine the sensation of your warm embrace encoating him like a safety west.

That night, he was woken by an eerie realistic dream. No nightmare for a change, no - and yet it was leaving him just as exasperated.

A memory, about that one time you had convinced him to travel to that small village near your ecological research station. Apparently a bunch of savages were holding a festival to celebrate the returning of daylight, and opposite to his expectations it was actually quite enjoyable - mostly thanks to your presence, of course.

He could still hear echoes of your laughter spinning in his head, goosebumps rising where you had touched him as you danced in the cold streets. Snowflakes were entangled in your hair, making it shimmer ever so slightly as you took his hands, trying to steady yourself on the ice. Your breath was visible as white mist, holding onto him for dear life.

Just when he had mustered up the courage to bend down to your height, maybe steal a kiss or two, even if it was only at the crown of your head, both of you lost balance and fell right on your asses.

Homelander heard his own boisterous laughter mixing with yours, remembered how absolutely flabbergasted he was when you suddenly tackle hugged and started kissing him senseless.

"Shit. Shit!"

"Yeah, sure is." Oh for fuck's sake, not this again. But the voices kept returning, it's not like he had a say in the matter of his own mental illness. He never really has a say in anything, not even regarding his own life. "What are you so upset about?"

Well, it's not like he'd be able to fall back asleep anytime soon either way, so he followed the sound of his own voice back to the great mirror across the room.

"You're new" he states the obvious, seeing a reflection that doesn't resemble his current state at all. The man in the mirror was unkempt, with a scruffy beard and greyed strands standing out from his blonde scalp...

...and yet he seemed as happy as Homelander could only hope to one day comprehend. "Did we really look this shitty back in the Arctic?"

"Well, there's not exactly a stylist in the middle of nowhere" his counterpart shrugged, smugly adding "And Y/N liked it."

Homelander exaggeratedly rolled with his eyes, but the verbal jab had hit his weak spot. "You're just a farce, a cheap excuse of me, the real deal!"

"Nope" his amnesic alter ego scoffed at the insult, his smile never faltering. "I'm everything you always wished to be! What you could still become" he adds, his remark yet another fatal blow to Homelander's fragile ego. "You've got all the means to find her, so what's holding you back?"

"Because this is beneath me!" he roars so loudly, it's good that his apartment is big enough that no one could eavesdrop. "Why the fuck would I miss playing house with some nobody?"

However John is not accepting this bullshit for an answer, waving a scolding index finger. "Nah-ah, the real reason. Say. It."

With more force than necessary, Homelander scatters the mirror - would be too easy if that'd make them shut up, though.

"You know we don't just disappear." Several copies of himself are now talking, a medley of misery from each shard, reopening gaping wounds that never had the chance to heal.

"You think Y/N was just nice out of basic human decency. You think the kiss and everything else only happened because of the isolation before you came to that doorstep."

"You're afraid you won't live up to the John Y/N met. The ideal version of yourself that doesn't exist."

"That Y/N will find out what a freak you really are and runs away scared and disgusted, just like they all do eventually."

"You'll get bored of this at some point. Why bother?"

"Y/N will break under the pressure of this burden. It'd be selfish to do this. You can't expect this from anybody."

"Maybe you're even afraid of her coming in harms way because you know exactly what you're capable of."

"You already managed to destroy her life even without being your true self, just imagine what could happen. Stay away, at least for Y/N's sake."

"This whole farce just weakened you, and will continue to do so. We should just get rid of-"

"Shut. Up!" Homelander warns the last one, menacingly calm. "Don't you dare implying I could ever hurt Y/N. I-I'd rather fly myself into the fucking sun!"

"Oh boo-hoo. Someone gives you breadcrumbs of affection and you wag your tail like a dog in heat" the more depraved materialization of himself mocks, "Fucking pathetic, as always. Did you forget that people only exist for our fickle amusement?!"

"Don't listen to them, John." The only shard still attached to the wall was what he'd like to believe is his good aspects. "Listen to me: This is the one and only chance to get what you've always craved for - a real, loving home. Try it, at least. Remember Y/N's words - you deserve happiness."

There was no use in trying to catch up with sleeping. In fact it took all of his patience to wait the few hours until sunrise to wait for this confrontation...

...not with you, however.

Of course Madelyn would come to work this early. Typical. But Homelander was already expecting her - not waiting in front of her door to avoid seeming desperate, but a safe distance away, his glare seeping through the walls.

As soon as she appeared at the tower, he let himself into her office like so many times before. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and at the sight of him adds some liquor to it. Hard to believe she was bothered because of something important. "This early? Seriously?"

"You know what's funny?" he didn't really acknowledge her question as he jumped onto the sofa, picking up a decorative snow globe to fidget with. "I thought the enemy had somehow deactivated my transponder...but a quick visit at the tech department later, I found out it worked just fine. This whole time."

Madelyn quirked a brow at the hero, tentatively leaning forwards over her desk. Showing some cleavage usually never failed to soothe his nerves, but not today. "If you want to imply that we're the ones behind all this, I can assure you tha-"

"No" he raised a warning hand, softly shaking the snow globe before putting it down again. "Nonono, I'm sure if you had the means to threaten me, you would've long since done it by now."

Homelander then leapt to his feet, strolling through the room filled with countless photographs of himself - but right now, it was like looking at a person he doesn't recognize anymore.

"Here's another interesting thing I found out: Not even a full week after my disappearance, you made the pathetic attempt to replace me with Black Noir. It wasn't until the public and your sponsors demanded answers to my whereabouts that you gave in and started actively searching for me. Isn't that correct?"

Checkpoint.

"Hey, I've been gone so long, I need to make up for all our missed conversations, don't I?" he huffed bitterly, viewing a snapshot of him and her without being able to feel anything but nauseous. "I've lived among...inferior people for the first time in my life. No fans, no people of Vought, just...Y/N and I. Living the life I only ever knew from textbooks or scripts. And it made me have a realization, wanna hear?"

The vice president closed her eyes in negative anticipation, taking in a deep breath but not being able to bring out a single word before being interjected again. Homelander knew her ways of manipulation and the effect he could have on her if he let her talk too much.

This time it was his turn, and he'd be heard.

The woman in front of of him crosses her arms in defense, giving an approving hum as she knew denying him was never an option.

"Let me tell you my theory first, you're gonna love this: So a boy of sixteen years is finally released from the laboratory he was raised in. Despite all the horrible things he had to endure there, he wanted to use his powers for good, so no one has to suffer like he did. He knows nothing about the real world, let alone care about profit or any of that bullshit. And then he meets this aspiring woman who sees her chance to be influental through him. Can you follow me until now?"

She nods and nothing more, her expression unreadable. "Good, very good. So the boy is now kept around the most rotten, selfish and greedy people on the planet. He was never inheritly evil, he simply adapted to his environment, as clueless as he was thinking this is how the world operates. And at the time any of you realized you had created a monster it was too late. You regretted it - but not out of moral concerns, no. Simply because you knew you couldn't possibly control him forever."

The silence was so loud that it was deafening, automatically answering everything.

"Even if that person was your most valuable asset, your figurehead, you'd be damned if you didn't use the lucky coincidence of him disappearing, no questions asked. Right? Right?!"

Madelyn Stillwell was a lot, but not a liar - at least not in the easy definition. She knew how to twist words, to withheld information just enough to get through with whatever she wanted. But she'd never lie so openly, so blatantly. Especially if it served no purpose, like right now that there was no use anyway. "We'd be damned if we didn't."

"So then why do you keep acting like any of this is right?" He looks deep into her, quite literally for his abilities wouldn't tolerate deceit. "Look, we've located you and the dot was moving. We knew you were alive. I do care about you, Jo-"

"Don't call me by that name. You don't deserve it." His jaw tightens into an almost-snarl, slapping Stillwell's hand away at her disgusting attempt to distract him through seduction. "Don't you dare touching me, and don't fucking lie to me again! Ive been lied to all my life...I'm so, so sick of this shit!"

Homelander's eyes turned from cold coal into glistening embers, threatening to destroy everything in their path shall the answer not be to his satisfaction. "Say. It!" he orders, his hands slamming on the table punctuating every word.

"Goddamnit, I'm afraid of you!"

"...what?" His voice was barely audible, laced with a hurt that surprised him - since deep down he knew the truth for a long time already.

"I'm afraid of you" she repeats, voice shaky at first but then practically yelling as if she knew it could be her last words. "I am fucking afraid of you, John! We all are! Everyone was relieved when you were finally gone, because no money is worth being subjected to you!"

"You- Vought...destroyed me for fucking nothing" he practically whines, his face running through various expressions at once as the last remains of his sanity crumbled. "I was robbed of any chance at normalcry and then tossed away like a broken weapon, and you seriously expected me to not return for a vengeance?!"

Countless possibilities rushed through his brain, one atrocious act more vile than the other - about how he could make the responsible pay the price for their wrongdoings, with Madelyn being the first one...

...but all his fury vanished when for the fraction of a second, his mind wandered back to you, who was still out there somewhere.

Maybe it was not too late for him after all.

All his life Homelander was comfortable trapping himself in a cage that was never locked, fearing whatever awaited outside could be even worse - but you, without even trying, had given him the hope to set himself free.

"Thanks for finally being honest with me." John shakes his head as if to cast all his violent impulses off, musing "I allowed you to use me because I never knew anything else...but that stops right now."

He breaks one of the windows with ease, grossed out by past memories when she dares taking ahold of his wrist. "Wha- where do you think you're going?" She looks sickishly pale, dreading that this would be the day he would go on a murderous rampage all those decades of madness had inevitably caused.

"I'm the Homelander, and I can do whatever the fuck I want." He rose into the air, not biding her another last look. "If anyone of Vought even tries to come near me again, I swear to god I'll end every single one of you."

___

Being in the US for the first time since your childhood made you realize: Damn, you didn't miss this shit a bit. Nostalgia is a real phenomenom, as it seems.

And even in this small town your...is it right to call him 'ex'? Anyways, his face is plastered on every square centimeter you'd fix your eyes on. Posters, screens, even goddamn groceries!

Hard to heal from something you couldn't even label, especially when basically everything reminds you of the love your heart still holds for John - or rather an illusion of a man that never actually existed.

You currently sat in front of your laptop, several tabs opened that made you feel pathetically nosy - but hey, there was hope that harvesting information about the real Homelander would help you overcome those silly, irrational emotions.

Then it should be good for you that everything you found out about him was freaking disappointing.

Vought...you were sure you had heard that name before. Typical monopolist corporate with a finger in every pie, unethical practices and too much influence on politics. It was as obvious as it was enraging, and yet no one cared enough to act against them - not that you were any better. To their defense, supes can be pretty scary so you get the sentiment of not wanting any beef with their bosses...especially after seeing John go apeshit in the past.

But as they all did, Vought still cared about their public image, and so they did a lot of charity to appear ethical. Not that it actually helped to cover any of their crimes up - this was more like an unofficial etiquette, a rule to behave like they're actually the good guys.

A few years ago you had applied for sponsoring your cause, and of course they denied the request. Vought couldn't give two shits about the environment, and if you didn't know any better they'd even go so far as destroying it themselves if the cause - profit, in this case - justifies the means.

Interesting enough, shortly after your return to society an official letter of the company magically appeared at your new address: A pledge of secrecy in return for money, summed up.

No thank you, metaphorically selling your soul to the devil wasn't your kind of thing.

A walking incarnate product, you thought as you closed the interview. No civil life, always performing. And that fabricated all-american backstory...ugh.

And about Homelander...

All videos you sporadically saw of him were kind of unsettling. His eyes were just as empty as his words, movements robotic and fake as if he had only learned to mimick normal behavior. Seeing him like this made you wonder if he even had a soul, or if Vought had sucked all humanity out of him decades ago.

How comes no one seems to notice...or do people simply don't want to acknowledge the truth about their heroes and the ones that lead them?

You sound like a dang conspiracy-theorist for someone that just got dumped by a supe in the most humiliating way possible. It's possibly just a coping mechanism to cover up the hurt caused by the indeniable truth: Someone like you was inadequate to the infamous Homelander in every single way.

The display of your old laptop almost snapped as you closed it in sadness and frustration, turning your attention to building that stubborn IKEA shelf again.

Wanting to regain an objective view on the situation at hand, you remind yourself that the two of you led fundamentally different lives that could never work out together. You hate modern civilization, you hate being the center of attention, you hate events and big cities...

...but you don't hate him. And maybe with him, for him, you could have endured.

Funny, isn't it? You've been alone ever since the death of your parents, keeping to yourself even while pursuing your education. Never able to form any close bonds, even if you tried. Ironically, you were exactly as lonely as him - not made to be among others just the same.

"Still a horrible taste for furniture, I see."

That familiar voice made your blood run cold, collecting yourself impossible as the blue-reddish silhouette belonging to it came into your field of view just seconds after.

All questions and accusations died on your tongue when you reminded yourself just who was standing in your living room right now. Homelander could find you no matter where, and literally tear away the roof of your house without anyone ever daring to object.

"You look great" he cannot help but notice, but you grimace as you see your own reflection in the window: grey sweatpants, a messy bun and an old T-shirt of his. Sure.

"Well, in case you forgot: I'm still in tremendous debt, so I'm not exactly drowning in luxury" you scoff, face fixated on the clash of wood and screws. John narrows his eyes in confusion, stating "Vought was supposed to recompensate you."

"Financially? Well, not without a catch." For a moment he thinks loudly, talking about 'ripping Ashley's head off', which made you finally turn to look at him. "Metaphorically" he added, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Oh, yeah...Ashley." The name only forcedly escaped your throat, which did not go unnoticed by Homelander. "Your girlfriend and I had a long talk back then. She explained your outburst was caused by PTSD. So no worries."

"My wha-" John made a dramatical gagging sound, crinkling his nose at you. His fists were on his hips, expression grim ike always when he was about to rant about something, making your lips twitch as you resisted smiling at the adorable sight. "Gosh, no. Ew. She's everything but that."

You had almost forgotten how cute he could be when one pushed his buttons - good to know it's still this way. "So, what brings you here all of a sudden?"

"Well, I-" He opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to come up with something, anything, but it sure took him a while. "Y-You didn't publish anything."

"I searched for your article. You've been talking about it nonstop back then." He dared stepping closer, making himself as small as humanly possible. "Actually I hoped to be mentioned and showered in praise as your assistant."

"Huh?" You narrow your eyes at him, and his tension is barely veiled. Great, just great Mr. Charming.

Okay, that one made you laugh. You had almost forgotten how refreshing those little exchanges were. "Well well well...I had to start from scratch after a certain someone wrecked my laboratory." He nervously rubs the back of his head, unintelligibly chuckling "Right...sorry about that."

"It's alright" you dismiss the guilt in his voice with a cheerful remark, "I'm teaching at a university temporarily, until I got enough money for another try." He knew. All this time he never lost track of you, craving to walk this path together with you but too cowardly to ask for your permission to join. "Seriously, Homel-"

"John" he corrects you, showing no ill intend. "Please, just call me John." Oh, how he missed the way his name sounded in your voice: Neither shallow, nor demanding or afraid - just John, no strings attached.

"Oh. Oh. Okay, John. But..." you intertwine your fingers to keep them from trembling, biting the inside of your cheek. "Really, you don't owe me anythi-"

"I owe you every-fucking-thing!" John blurts out, his insistance showing as he softly grabbed your shoulders. "Y/N, you helped me despite gaining nothing from it. If that isn't heroic, I don't know what is. I mean, without you I'd be a fucking icicle right now."

How often did he say this corny trademark quote 'You are the real hero(es)' before? This is the first time that it felt genuine - after all, you had saved him in more ways than just one.

You cackle shortly, more out of attachment to the man than his joke actually being funny. But the longer his hands remained stubbornly on your body, the harder it became to act like acquaintances merely sharing a crazy story that's long in the past.

"But you can't give me what I want..." You don't know what moved you to speak from the heart, but after all that had happened you deserved to drown in some self-pity. John's forehead wrinkled in an attempt to make sense out of you, insisting "C'mon, let me indulge you a little. For old time's sake."

Nothing to lose after already having everything taken away from you, right?

"It's my fault, honestly" you try to keep it together, but you knew there was no hiding your choked sobs from his senses either way. "I fell for something fake. And I know, I know it's stupid, but-"

"Not everything was fake" you rudely got interrupted again, but the content of his rambling made you forgive him easily. "My feelings weren't."

It took you a while to have John's confession actually dawn on you, releasing a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "Your...what?"

"Took me long enough to realize" he snickered as he pulled you into a long-due hug, pressing a wet kiss into your hair out of habit. "I've tried to continue my old life, I really did. But fuck it...this whole time all my thoughts revolved around you."

He could barely hear over the sound of his own fastened heartbeat, but clearly your pulse was racing as well - not out of fear, that much he could tell.

And yet as much as the shared sentiment partially relieved you, there was something else laying heavy on your chest.

"I- don't know what to say, John" you try to wring yourself out of his embrace, but he stubbornly narrows the space between you, making you gasp in surprise.

Homelander was not someone taking no for an answer, used to always get what he wants no matter how. And people not acting like he anticipated was like hitting the bulls eye of his fragile psyche.

He'd be damned to just accept his loss after everything he put at risk.

"Hey big guy...look at me."

Your voice alone made him snap out of a downward-spiral that usually was an unstoppable force, always ending in tragedy. As he met your eyes he detected the plea in them, a vulnerability he had yet to allow himself.

"I have very strong feelings for you, John." Good. Then where's the fucking problem?! "But I've spent a lot of time thinking about" you pause, awkwardly gesticulating between the two of you. "This. You and me, us...John, you were talking in your sleep a lot back then. If you were not busy screaming your lungs out, I mean. About burning, drowning or being cut up alive..."

Your eyes begin to water at the memory, clawing a fistful of blue fabric from his suit. "Just...tell me the truth, and not that fancy propaganda bullshit. If we continue this, then I want to know you inside and out."

"What if..." John's voice cracks, only notices he'd been crying as he feelsbthe salt of his own tears prickle on his lips. He fucking hates this weakness, this sickness of his, especially if he cannot hide behind a facade. "What if the truth if so much more horribe than you could ever imagine?" His hands squeeze yours now, as if he fears you'd disappear if he let go off of this emotional anchor you had become.

John was about to pull back, bracing himself for the rejection. His only solace was the thought that it's probably the best for you.

If you'd know this relationship would eventually turn you into the moral support of a malignant narcissist and subsequent homicidal maniac, there was no way on earth you'd still voluntarily be a part of his life.

"Then I guess we've got to figure it out."

Whatever the extend of his pain, you are aware it's going to put a huge toll onto you as well. He most likely can't live normally, let alone love.

You cradle his face in your hands and he subconsciously leans into the touch, whining at his own neediness. "I can't say that my love is going to erase your hurt, but I can promise to be at your side through all of it."

"That's about the best fucking thing someone has ever said to me" he half-cries, half-laughs when you finally pull the man on his collar down to your height, sealing your promise with a kiss.

"And now get out of that costume" you tease, pinching one of the pads on his chest. "Looks even more hilarious now that I know you're not all that muscular underneath."

"Well, to my defense, other clothes aren't really fit for breaking sonic speed." He twirls you around skillfully, embracing you from behind as close as humanly possible. "And besides, that makes me the perfect candidate for a long-distance relationship, don't you think? You stay in this boring chaff, hell even the end of the world if you want to, and I could still visit you everyday. Or I'll just kidnap you to wherever you want."

Seems like he had already planned it all out. Not the most concerning action of his, though. Almost sweet, if you want to see it this way.

Won't be the last time, surely.

"But what do you want?" The question was so simple, so downright basic that not knowing the answer left him empty inside. His wishes? Does he even have any dreams or aspirations?

There was never a 'John' - the boy with this name died in that lab so Homelander could rise. For so long he had existed for the sole purpose of others that he completely forgot he was in charge of his own fate...

He leans to kiss you again, more tender this time as he savours the way your tears mix with his."I want to enjoy this until I can give you a proper answer one day."

...until you opened his eyes, through sheer kindness and willpower.

Maybe humans aren't so weak after all.

Finally, he smiles. It's the kind of smile that reaches up to his ears, making his whole face crinkly. One that matches with his eyes, genuine and radiant just like back when you first met.

"There you are...welcome home, John."

[cod-thoughts]

Day 1 of 31 days of COD

Word count: 2.7k

Relationships: Heavily implied poly!141. Ghoap.

Tags: Found family, hurt/comfort, 3+1 things

Three times the 141 tells Ghost that they love him and the one time he says it back. Keep reading under the read more or on AO3

The mess hall was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that hangs heavy before an operation. The clatter of utensils against steel trays was the only sound in the empty space as Ghost and Soap sat at a corner table. Ghost, as usual, wore his mask—his eyes sharp, focused, barely acknowledging the food in front of him. Soap, on the other hand, was his usual animated self, though even he couldn't mask the tension that lingered in the air.

They were about to head out on a mission. High risk, but that wasnʼt new to them. Still, this one felt heavier, like there was more at stake than usual. Soap, ever the optimist, had spent the last hour cracking jokes, trying to lighten the mood. But now, as they both sat in silence, picking at the last remnants of their food, something shifted. Soap's usual carefree grin faded as he looked over at Ghost.

"Simon," Soap started, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He was fiddling with the edge of his tray, eyes darting from the food to Ghost, and then back again.

Ghost tilted his head, glancing up at him. "What?"

Soap swallowed hard, eyes searching Ghost's masked face. He looked like he was about to say something important, something that didn't come with a punchline. "Look... we're about to go into something messy. We both know it."

Ghost didnʼt say anything, just kept his gaze on Soap. Soap continued, his voice dropping lower, more serious than Ghost had ever heard him.

"I just... I wanted you to know that I love you." Soap said it like a weight had been lifted off his chest, but the words landed like a ton of bricks in the quiet air between them. "And you donʼt have to say it back. You never have to. But I needed to say it, just once, before anything else happens."

Ghost's hands tightened around his tray, knuckles turning white under his gloves. He wasnʼt good with words, and Soap knew that. But this... this was something else entirely. His mind raced, searching for a response, but nothing came. What could he possibly say?

For once, Soap didnʼt fill the silence. He just smiled, a sad, soft smile that reached his eyes in a way that felt more vulnerable than Ghost had ever seen.

"Itʼs okay, Simon. Really. You donʼt have to say anything. Weʼll figure it out... after this mission. Just—"

But Soapʼs words were cut short, because in that moment, Ghost moved. He didnʼt speak, didnʼt try to explain himself or return the words Soap had given him. Instead, he grabbed the front of Soapʼs shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. It wasnʼt gentle, wasnʼt soft—it was desperate, raw, and maybe even a little reckless. It was everything Ghost couldnʼt say.

Soap's breath hitched for a second, startled by the suddenness of it, but then he melted into it, his hand coming up to the back of Ghostʼs neck, pulling him closer, grounding them both in the chaos of the moment.

When Ghost pulled back, Soapʼs eyes were wide, his lips parted in surprise. But there was a glimmer of something else there too—understanding.

"Itʼs okay, Simon," Soap whispered, his voice rough but warm, like he was steadying them both. "Weʼll figure it out. Together."

Ghost nodded, still saying nothing. Soap didnʼt press for more. He just stood up, grabbing his gear, before giving Ghost one last lingering glance. "Be careful out there, aye? Canʼt have you dyin' before we get to talk about this."

Ghost watched him walk away, his chest tight, the words "I love you" sitting heavy on his tongue, unspoken, but present. He didn't need to say it—not yet. Soap had heard it in the kiss.  

 The air was thick with dust and the scent of gunpowder as Gaz and Ghost sprinted through the narrow alley, enemy fire echoing off the crumbling buildings around them. They were supposed to rendezvous with Price and Soap at the extraction point, but things had gone south fast. Bullets ricocheted off walls, kicking up dirt and debris, forcing them to duck and weave through the abandoned streets.

"Go!" Ghost barked, his voice barely audible over the gunfire as he slowed his pace, scanning their surroundings for cover.

Gaz didnʼt listen, matching Ghostʼs pace step for step. "Iʼm not leaving you, Lt.!"

Ghost cursed under his breath, catching sight of a partially destroyed building ahead. He grabbed Gaz by the arm and yanked him toward it, shoving him through the doorway. They stumbled inside, quickly pressing their backs against the wall, chests heaving from the exertion.

"Go. Now," Ghost demanded, his voice harsh. "I'll cover you."

But Gaz didn't budge. "Are you mad? You think Iʼm gonna leave you here to handle this on your own?"

Ghostʼs hand flexed around his rifle, frustration brewing beneath his mask. He turned his gaze to Gaz, sharp and unyielding. "I can handle it."

Gaz scoffed, shaking his head, his breath still coming out in heavy gasps. "Like hell you can. Youʼre not invincible, Simon."

"I said, leave." Ghostʼs voice was dangerously low, but Gaz didn't falter.

They locked eyes for a moment, the tension palpable between them. Gazʼs heart pounded in his chest, not just from the running, but from the realisation of what was happening. Something was wrong. Ghost was usually the last person to suggest retreat, especially not when it involved staying behind alone.

"Simon," Gaz started, but Ghost cut him off.

"Iʼm hit." The words came out through gritted teeth, more a confession than a statement. He shifted slightly, revealing the dark stain spreading across his side. Blood.

Gazʼs stomach dropped. "Bloody hell..." he whispered, reaching out instinctively to steady Ghost, who leaned heavily against the wall, his breaths ragged.

"Go," Ghost repeated, his voice weaker now, but no less insistent. "I'll hold them off."

Gaz shook his head, eyes burning with frustration. "Iʼm not leaving you. Iʼm not..."

But Ghost was already pushing him toward the exit. "You need to get back to Price and Soap. Get them out. Keep them safe"

Gazʼs throat tightened. He couldn't—wouldn't—leave Ghost here to die. His mind raced, but Ghost was already too far gone, leaning heavily against the wall, blood pouring from the wound.

Gaz swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He didn't have time. He couldn't think about what might happen if he stayed.

"I'll come back for you," he promised, voice shaking, more emotion in it than he intended. His hands came up to cup his cheeks, the unspoken weight of his words hanging between them.

Gazʼs hands trembled against Ghostʼs face, his voice catching as he spoke again. "I love you, Simon. I... Iʼll come back."

Gaz placed a tear-filled kiss to his forehead before he pulled away, running toward the extraction point. The words "I love you" echoed in his ears, the warmth of Gaz lingered, but the words Ghost wanted to say in return stayed lodged in his throat.

Ghostʼs head felt heavy, a dull throb pulsing at his temples as he slowly came to. The sterile smell of the infirmary filled his nose, the beeping of machines around him distant but steady. His body ached, but it was the warmth of a hand wrapped around his that pulled him fully into consciousness.

He blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim light. It took him a moment to recognise where he was, and even longer to realise he wasnʼt alone. Price sat beside him, eyes closed, lips moving in a soft murmur that Ghost couldnʼt quite make out.

Ghost remained still, not yet alert enough to move, but he could hear the low, rasping sound of Priceʼs voice, like he was praying—no, not praying—pleading. Priceʼs hand squeezed Ghostʼs, and his voice cracked slightly as he whispered, "Please... Simon, just wake up."

It hit Ghost like a punch to the chest. Price was talking to him—no, begging him to wake up. His captain. The man who never showed anything but strength, who led them into hell and back, was now sitting at his bedside, clutching his hand like it was his lifeline.

Ghostʼs breath hitched, and Price must have felt it because he suddenly froze, his grip tightening as he looked up. When their eyes met, Ghost could see the exhaustion, the raw emotion etched into every line of Priceʼs face.

"Simon..." Priceʼs voice was barely a whisper now, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank God."

Ghost tried to speak, but the words wouldnʼt come. His throat felt tight, his chest heavy. Price leaned forward, resting his forehead against Ghostʼs, and for the first time in years, Ghost felt tears slip down his cheeks.

"I love you," Price murmured, the words soft but certain, his voice trembling. "I canʼt—" He choked on the words, pulling Ghostʼs hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles "I canʼt lose you, Simon."

Ghost wanted to say it back, but he couldn't. The words were stuck, buried beneath the years of walls heʼd built. Instead, he let the tears fall, his hand clutching Priceʼs as if that alone could convey everything he couldn't say.

Price didn't push. He just held Ghost, murmuring soft words of comfort until Ghost finally drifted back into sleep, still holding on.

Ghost blinked blearily, the soft hum of voices pulling him from the haze of unconsciousness. His body ached, heavy with the weight of injury and medication, but it was the sound of his team—their voices low, tense—that cut through the fog.

When he opened his eyes, his vision slowly sharpened, revealing Soap, Gaz, and Price, all huddled around his bed. Soap was the first to notice he was awake. Without a second thought, Soap leaned down and kissed him—hard and fast, like he was afraid Ghost might disappear if he didnʼt hold him close enough. The kiss was raw and filled with something unspoken, something desperate.

"You bloody idiot," Soap muttered, his voice thick with emotion. His usual grin was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a vulnerable, open expression Ghost rarely saw. "You couldʼve gotten yourself killed."

Ghost parted his lips to respond, but Soap shook his head, cutting him off. "Donʼt. You did something stupid out there, Simon. You didnʼt have to."

Guilt twisted in Ghostʼs chest, but before he could fully process Soapʼs words, Gaz stepped forward. His body was tense, his eyes burning with emotion he could barely contain.

"I shouldnʼt have left you," Gaz spat, his voice cracking as he started pacing the small room like a caged animal. "II couldnʼt live with myself if something happened to you because of me." His fists clenched at his sides, trembling as he struggled to maintain control. He stopped abruptly, turning to face Ghost, his face twisting with guilt. "Itʼs been a week, Simon. A week of waiting for you to wake up, all because I left you there. You canʼt do that to me! To us! We love you, and you have no right to just—"

His voice broke, and he turned away quickly, hiding the tears that had started to fall. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs, the emotion finally spilling over.

For a long moment, Ghost said nothing, the weight of Gaz's words sinking deep. His throat tightened, the sharp pang of guilt growing stronger. He hadn't meant for this to happen, hadn't realised just how much his actions would hurt them. But now, seeing the way Gaz was falling apart in front of him, it became all too real.

Slowly, Ghost reached out, catching Gazʼs wrist. "Gaz..." His voice was rough, but his grip was firm. "Itʼs not your fault. It was my call. I didn't want you to—"

Gaz shook his head, yanking his wrist free only to grab Ghostʼs hand, holding it. "You always say that," he whispered, his voice still thick with tears. "You always try to carry the weight on your own, like you donʼt trust us enough to help you." His eyes were bright with emotion, his grip on Ghostʼs hand tightening. "Youʼre not alone, Simon. We need you just as much as you need us."

Ghost stared at him, feeling the sincerity behind Gazʼs words cut through the fog in his mind. It had always been easier to act like he was a tool—just a weapon. But hearing Gaz, seeing him so broken, made something shift inside Ghost.

"Iʼm sorry," Ghost whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't think—"

Before he could finish, Price stepped forward, his presence looming, and Ghost could feel the weight of his commanding officerʼs gaze on him. There was no hiding from Priceʼs judgment.

"You didn't think, Simon?" Priceʼs voice was low, gruff, but it carried the weight of barely controlled anger. His hand found Ghostʼs shoulder, gripping it firmly. "Do you think any of us could stand to lose you?" His tone was sharp, reprimanding, but Ghost could hear the hurt underneath. "You may think youʼre just another soldier, but youʼre not. Youʼre ours."

Priceʼs grip tightened, and Ghost could see the deep concern in his eyes, cutting through the usual hardened exterior. There was something else too— something vulnerable.

"You donʼt get to just throw yourself away," Price continued, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "You think youʼre sparing us by pushing us away, by keeping us at armʼs length? Youʼre bloody wrong." His hand moved from Ghostʼs shoulder to his cheek, cradling it in a rare, intimate gesture.

Ghost swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the weight of Priceʼs words. He had always believed that if he kept his distance, he could protect them—keep them from being hurt. But seeing the raw emotion in Priceʼs eyes, the way Gaz

and Soap were standing by his side, looking at him like he was something more than just a soldier, Ghost finally understood.

His defences broke down completely, and his voice trembled as he spoke. "Iʼm sorry," he said, looking at each of them in turn. "I didn't know... I didn't know-."

Soap shushed him gently, his hand coming up to wipe at his eyes before leaning down again, pressing his forehead against Ghostʼs. "Youʼre an idiot, Simon," he muttered, his voice filled with affection. "But we love you anyway."

Gaz, still holding Ghostʼs hand tightly, leaned in close, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Ghostʼs hand. "We need you, Simon. We canʼt do this without you."

Price, standing above them, brushed his thumb gently along Ghostʼs cheek, his gruff expression softening. "Youʼre not going anywhere," he murmured. Then, in a softer voice, "I love you, Simon. We all do."

The air in the room shifted, a quiet, fragile peace settling over them. Ghost could feel the weight of their words, their touch, sinking into him. He wasn't used to this kind of closeness, wasn't used to being cared for like this. But as each of them leaned in, offering him a kiss, a touch, a reminder that they were here—he let himself accept it.

Soap kissed him again, slower this time, the anger and fear from before replaced with something gentler. Gaz followed, pressing a soft kiss to Ghostʼs temple, his hand never letting go. And Price, his touch firm yet tender, leaned down, pressing his lips against Ghostʼs forehead in a gesture that felt protective, comforting.

One by one, they all wrapped around him—Soap tucking himself against Ghostʼs side, Gaz leaning into him, his head resting on Ghostʼs shoulder, and Price laying his head gently on Ghostʼs thigh, holding his hand firmly.

Ghost started carding his fingers through Soap and Priceʼs hair, grounding himself by untangling the knots he finds.

He felt their warmth, their weight, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel alone. He didn't have to.

His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything he had been holding back. "I love you," he said, the words thick with emotion. "All of you."

Soap let out a soft laugh, his breath warm against Ghostʼs neck. "ʼBout time you said it."

Gaz smiled, his eyes still red from crying but full of relief. "We've got you," he whispered. "Always."

"Youʼre not alone, Simon. Not anymore." Price said, voice slightly muffled by Ghostʼs knuckles against his lips.

They huddled around him, their bodies pressed close, their breaths steady, and for the first time in his life, Simon Riley let himself be held—truly held—by the people who loved him.

And for the first time, it didn't feel like weakness. It felt like home.

[ohdeerfully]

HEYY HIII i finally gave some attention to this fic! this will be the final part, so i wrote in some semi sweet fluffiness between reader and al <3 kisses kisses hugs love you all!

Your Half of the Deal (iii)(Final)

Alastor x Reader

part i part ii part iii

TW: kidnapping, violence, alastor ooc probably... oh whale

join my discord!

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You had lost track of the time spent in that room, a near constant headache thrumming in your head due to the deep bass that you now knew resonated from the club just beyond the door. Every now and then you would recognize the faint tune of a familiar pop song—Angel often took you out to bars to escape from the Hotel—and let yourself enjoy the recognition, humming along. It was truly the only thing you could do with yourself.

You humored yourself with the thought of who your knight in shining armor may be, if one ever came. Would it be Alastor? Finally holding up his half of your soul bargain? Or maybe even Angel, stumbling across you in a bender with Cherri? Or even an unrelated third party that wouldn’t even recognize you; surely the Vee’s have made enough enemies to warrant somebody saving you just to get back at them. No matter who crossed your mind, you couldn’t get your hopes up. You were certain it hadn’t been days in here, but it had been long enough that you were starting to convince yourself nobody was coming.

You may just have to save yourself.

Due to the constant struggle against the metal restraints that chained you to the bed, your wrists had begun to blister and scab, sending dull waves of sensitive pain through your arms. Vox often visited, putting on a face of care and concern, but you knew better than to trust him. All Overlords had to be manipulative to get their way, and Vox was no exception—in fact, he may just be the worst of the worst (not including Alastor). He offered various times to help you dress the wounds on your arms, but you returned his gestures by hissing insults and lunging for that oversized television he had for a head. He kept trying, though, and each attempt at playing nice made you feel all the more crazy and violent. 

Speak of the devil, you thought with a frown as the door opened, briefly casting multicolored lights and a blare of loud music into the room before it was quickly silenced by the click of the door closing again. You subconsciously leaned towards the exit, desperately wanting to escape.

The tall, flat-faced demon strode in, head held high with, in your opinion, undeserved confidence. He was a coward. You fucking hated cowards. You let your lips curl into a sneer as he stopped a foot away from you, peering down with his own curled smirk. 

“You’ll get an infection,” Vox referred to your wrists. This shit again? You clenched your fists. “Please, let me treat them. It’s the least I could–”

“Man fuck off with that shit!” You snapped, leaning forward. You bared your fangs at him, tail lashing. “The least you could do is let me the fuck out! I’m fuckin’ hungry!”

Vox’s smile grew wider, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He took a breath in through his teeth, trying to remain polite. He sat down next to you, the mattress dipping with his weight. You took extreme care to not let yourself fall towards him from the unexpected shift.

Despite every bone in your body wanting to lunge in attack like usual, you held back. Truthfully you knew it was futile, you just enjoyed the rush you got from just trying to fight back. This time, though, you wanted to see if you could get any information about your current situation out of him. Maybe it would help you escape.

“You know we can’t let you out,” He said in a condescendingly sweet tone. He reached a hand out and placed it on your shoulder, digging his claws into your shirt and nearly into your skin when you tried to jerk away. You got the hint. “What better way to get to that out-dated Overlord than taking away his favorite toy?”

“I’m not a toy,” You said through clenched teeth. While you doubted this fact yourself, you would never admit it. Not to Vox. The smile he gave you in return was akin to an adult looking down on a naive child. It made your blood boil, and the internal battle you were having to not fly into attack mode was getting harder and harder. All the while you were talking, you kept analyzing him, looking for any semblance to a key, or anything that may serve as a lockpick. Whether to your restraints or even to the door, either would bring you one step closer to getting out. 

There was no doubt he recognized what you were doing—he was an Overlord, not a fool. Maybe he didn’t expect you to be much of a challenge, or to get very far, as he made no move to avert your prying eyes. If anything, it was like he was asking you to try, what with the way he shifted in such a way that you noticed the slight imprint of a key in his pocket. You tried your best to act indifferent. How the hell were you going to get that?

“Could you at least let me out for a moment to piss?” You kept up the attitude, but slumped your shoulders to look defeated and averted your eyes to the floor. Out of the corner of your eye you saw his smile grow, a cheshire-like grin as if he was watching a mouse play right into his trap. And you didn’t doubt you were, Vox would never be so careless as to reveal the presence of a key unless it was on purpose. It didn’t matter to you, though, because you resolved to just be stronger than he expected you to be. He was underestimating you.

“Oh, but of course! No wonder you’ve been so snippy,” He joked, idly picking up the chain that was attached to the wall with a finger as he spoke. He shifted his hand over towards your wrists, gripping them just barely hard enough to send a wave of sensitive pain through your hand. You grit your teeth and bore back any recognition of the pain as he continued to fiddle with your chains.

He produced a key from his coat pocket. This must mean that the key in his pants pocket was for the door… which, if everything goes fine, would be perfect. Without your restraints, you only had to worry about getting the fuck out of here.

Relief swelled through your wrists when the clasps fell away from your skin, fresh air soothing your raw skin. You allowed yourself a second to tenderly press your fingers against the blisters, wincing at the sting it caused. You shook your hands out in front of you and stood, watching Vox out of the corner of your eye. He stood and offered his arm to you; although, you knew it was less of an offer and more of a command. He wouldn’t let you out of here if he couldn’t hold on to you.

You slowly slipped your arm through the curve of his elbow, linking yourself to him. You allowed yourself to mentally vomit at the contact, but held your expression steady and calm as he led you out. Maybe causing a scene in public will help? Honestly doubtful—you were in Hell, after all, and demons were much too intimidated by the technology Overlord. Maybe someone you know will just so happen to be here?

Thoughts and plans raced through your mind, but none seemed plausible. At this point, you thought it was just best to throw yourself at him even if it got you nowhere. It might do you good to get some energy out at the very least. 

Your senses were immediately overwhelmed when he opened the door; bright, flashing neon lights and the deep booming bass of music swamped over you. You were no stranger to this type of scene, but after being locked up in a deathly quiet room for some time… a headache was quick to come.

Swiftly taking in the scene before you, you desperately searched for some semblance of familiarity within the sea of people as Vox led you against the wall towards the restroom. You didn’t see anybody that you knew, but caught a few curious eyes, no doubt over the fact that you were basically holding Vox’s hand. You wished you could cast out some mental signal that you did not want to be this close to the Overlord and beg demons not to get the wrong idea. 

Your attention was brought back when Vox’s arm fell away from yours, and you realized you were standing in front of the restroom. You cast him a quick look before quickly dashing into the room, thankful to finally have a chance away from him without shackles on your arms. You rested your hands on the lip of the sink, heaving a shaky breath and looking absently at the drain, tracing the pattern of the speckles of undrained water that clung to the porcelain. You tried not to let it get to you, especially not in his presence, but being so close to the Technology Overlord made every nerve in your body blaze with anxiety.

Flipping the faucet on, you let the lukewarm water run over your bruised wrists. Times like this you wished Hell had the convenience of cold tapwater, but the water nevertheless did the job of soothing your skin. You watched the water blankly for a minute, mind lost in thought over your situation. The gentle warmth of the water almost sent you into a trancelike state, and you were likely to get stuck there for a few moments just enjoying it if it wasn’t for a loud banging at the door and an impatient voice calling for you. You snapped back a retort about him rushing you, but you still turned off the faucet and dried your hands.

With a quick glance at yourself in the mirror, you gave yourself a resolute and firm look before leaving the restroom. You could do this.

You flung open the door, not taking time to observe Vox’s somewhat surprised look as his fist was still raised to continue knocking on the door. You made a mad dash past him, ducking under claws that swung at your shirt collar in an attempt to yank you back. 

“Fuck- fucking get back here!” You heard him snarl from behind you, voice unnaturally louder than the music that boomed in the room. It was as if he just… commanded the music to be quieter so he could project his own, overpowering voice. Though you knew, as the Technology Overlord, that was most likely in his limit of power, you still couldn’t help the cold feeling that the uncanny experience sent in your bones. You kept running, ignoring the shouts of curiosity from the crowd at the whole ordeal.

A strong arm wrapped around your neck, bringing you close to somebody’s chest. The sudden change of momentum and pressure on your throat made you sputter momentarily for air, but it didn’t take long for you to come to and realize how fucked you were.

“Vox! Ova’ here!” The demon who held you tightly shouted, and you managed to just barely catch sight of his face. His smile was huge and toothy, a pleased look glimmering in his eyes. He fiercely waved his hand in the air.

“You gross, good for nothing fanboy!” You cried, struggling in his grip. You brought your hands up to his burly arm and dug your claws as much as possible into his skin, yanking down and shredding his skin. He kicked you away with a pained yelp, snarling some curses at you as he nursed his arms and slunk back in the crowd, of which had formed a large circle around the two of you, undoubtedly to the bar to lick his wounds. You stood, preparing to run, but… You realized it was too late.

Vox cleared his throat behind you. He had no need to grab you—you both knew running would be futile at this point. You tightened your lips together in a grimace and clenched your fists. What would you do now? 

Fuck it, and, just like you had when you first came across him, you lunged at him. Though, this time you went lower, hurling yourself into his stomach. He stumbled just enough to give you time to send a frenzy of claws across his body, scratching anything that came within reach of you. You gripped his leg and yanked up, toppling him over before you ran once again.

You didn’t get far before something curled over your ankle, twisting around the limb and tripping you. You fell to your hands with a loud ‘fuck’ before shooting your eyes to see what the culprit was—a thin wire twisted up your leg, digging harder and harder into your skin as the seconds past. Every attempt you made seemed futile to rid yourself of Vox, and you had to bite back a cry of frustration.

“Pets don’t get far without their leash,” He spat distastefully at you. A line of blood fell from his mouth, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride in yourself for making Vox feel some pain, even if the blood on his face was just a display of light.

Vox walked closer, his height sending an ominous shade over your downed body. You didn’t let yourself tremble, though you wanted to, because you truly had nowhere to go from here; you couldn’t let him know that you were afraid. You would keep fighting him, no matter what, even if it would kill you. If you weren’t going to escape this shit, you would die trying. In your frenzied mindset, you didn’t notice the growing sensation of static that prickled against your skin.

◈

Alastor stood in front of the club, ears flat against his head in an attempt to block out the blaring music that he could already hear from outside the doors. He abhorred places like this, finding them distasteful and a disgrace to the clubs that he frequented back in his day. Of course, he had to get over himself in that regard—finding and saving you from the grasps of that nasty TV head was more important.

His shadow had returned to him a few hours after he left the Vees’ residence, having seen Vox himself entering the club through a back entrance. He had wasted no time in making his way there, ignoring the painful thrumming of his heart and the twisting feeling his stomach made. 

With a twirl of his cane and quick adjustment to his bowtie, he made his way in, melting into his shadow to slip in the crack of the same back door his shadow had seen. When inside, he found himself in a somewhat desolate corner of the club, his ears twitching uncomfortably at the sound of the music, louder now that he was inside. He swept his red eyes across the huge room, trying to see past the swarm of demons.

A light pressure on his shoulder, which he quickly recognized came from his shadow, urged his attention towards a room just to the left of the back entrance. The door was cracked open, and he slunk towards the door, peeking in before entering to ensure nobody was there.

The room immediately sent a wave of some uncomfortably intense emotion through him, though he wasn’t quite sure what—fury, maybe?—because the room smelled just like you. His nostrils flared and his eyes immediately narrowed at the realization, and the stick of his cane creaked from the grip he held on it. He didn’t fully understand why the hint of your presence after your absence made him feel so strongly, but he did know that he was pissed, the feeling of which was only increased tenfold when he saw the shackles that lay ominously barren on the bed.

He swiftly left the room, not caring if the slamming of the door brought any attention to him. It didn’t, though, and he quickly realized that a commotion on the other side of the club had already drawn the attention of everyone. A voice—no, your voice shouted something, and another wave of that fury coursed through Alastor’s veins. He quickly moved forward, shoving through the crowd. Demons began noticing his presence as he pushed, and space was being made for him to move through.

Though he wanted nothing more than to simply tear Vox apart, Alastor quickly gained composure and stepped out from the crowd into the wide berth that had formed around Vox and you. 

Alastor met your gaze for a brief moment, noting how thrilled you looked to see him and quickly sweeping his eyes over your body and analyzing your condition. His smile curled up in a light snarl when he saw the wire that twisted around your leg. How dare that flat-faced Overlord touch what belonged to Alastor?

He turned his head towards said Overlord, whose face was lit with a multitude of different emotions. Alastor could tell his breathing was coming rapidly, and whether it was due to excitement, fear, or even both, Alastor didn’t know nor did he truly care. All he saw was a pathetic demon before him who took something that wasn’t his.

“My old friend!” Alastor exclaimed with fake friendliness, a smile lighting up his face as his arms stretched up and wide. He stepped towards Vox, an ominous shadow forming under his feet as he walked. Tiny tendrils of flame licked up from the manifesting power as Alastor purposefully made an attempt to intimidate Vox into submission. There was intense bloodlust in his veins, but he was less inclined to create a scene with another Overlord than just getting out of here with you. Plus, despite Vox’s obsession with defeating Alastor, the other two Vee’s really kept out of the feud… Alastor didn’t want to draw the attention of them as well.

Vox didn’t yield, though, and he also began walking towards Alastor, though his body language was much less friendly. His shoulders were high and tense and his claws curled into fists, a frown flickering onto the screen of his face. The two stopped just a foot from each other, and the energy in the room crackled dangerously. The music had stopped, and the crowd of demons had begun slinking out of the club, deathly quiet so as to not draw the attention from the Overlords. This wasn’t particularly necessary, though, as they watched each other with equally unyielding iron stares.

Alastor allowed one more look at you when he heard you weakly say his name. Maybe the sight of him brought you enough relief to finally let exhaustion overcome your body, because you had lost all will to fight. When he saw just how pitiful you looked, how extremely exhausted you were, he didn’t care to hold back anymore.

“I don’t let thieves get away for long,” Alastor said, his voice low and filled with static. He felt the weight of his horns as they expanded while his limbs grew unnaturally, allowing him to tower in height over Vox. In response, tendrils of wire began sprouting from Vox’s body, as well as dangling from the ceiling, poised to attack. “Somebody should’ve taught you some manners on property.”

“We’re in Hell, genius,” Vox growled back. There was an almost ecstatic look in his eyes, but his voice sounded rushed and frantic. “I know you’re old, but come on! How do you forget that?”

Alastor didn’t grace Vox with a response, an inky black spear of shadow shooting from the pool that had been forming underneath Alastor’s feet. It stabbed into Vox’s leg, who couldn’t react in time, but he stood his ground still and threw his own wave of tendrils at Alastor in return. Alastor was quick to move out of the way of the piercing wire, but he wasn’t able to avoid the three that came from above and wrapped around his torso, lifting him nearly a foot off the ground. His red eyes were steadfast of Vox, and he didn’t bother to struggle against the wire. Vox brought him closer, face inches away from Alastor’s own.

“Somebody should’ve taught you about knowing your place! You outdated–” Vox had let his guard down, if only for a moment, and Alastor took that chance. His arm surged forward and through Vox’s face, shattering the glass display. The screen immediately went black, save for the flashes of glitching display lights as the sound of his voice was cut short, replaced by unintelligible buzzing and zapping. Alastor withdrew his hand, bleeding lightly from the glass and metal, and quickly caught his balance when the wires around his torso slackened, dropping him.

Alastor easily stepped to the side as Vox’s twitching body fell to its knees and then forward, the flat screen slamming into the ground with an almost comical slap. The radio demon looked down at it for a few seconds, the corners of his smile curling in a displeased sneer. He truly wanted to avoid getting physical. Vox wasn’t dead, Alastor knew better than to get his hopes up, but his ego would certainly be bruised.

His attention was drawn away from the body, still jerking and sparking, when he heard you softly call for him. He turned on his heel, positioning his hands over his cane to lean and look down at you. You were looking up at him, picking yourself up from the sticky club floor to sit on your knees. He couldn’t keep his eyes from lingering over your haggard appearance, especially the raw, blistering skin of your wrists.

Maybe it was how pitiful you looked, peering up at him like an abandoned kitten, your eyes glazed with a mixture of tears and exhaustion, but something in Alastor urged him to swoop down and hold you in his arms. He was able to fight himself for just a brief moment, but the overwhelming sensation of relief eventually got the best of him.

A cautious step forward, an uncertain glance over your expression, another step, pause… before he finally knelt down in front of you. He looked into your eyes, searching—for what he didn’t really know—before his arms slowly slid under yours, wrapping against the dip of your waist and gently pulling you towards himself. For now he was acting without much thought, doing something he never thought himself capable of. And, strangely enough, you reciprocated the gesture. Why was his heart swelling so much as he felt you tying your own arms around his neck? 

It was silent for some time, the club long abandoned from the confrontation with the TV demon. The tender embrace the two of you shared in a rather unconventional place was likely going to be brushed under the rug, forced to be forgotten; you both knew this fact, so maybe that’s why Alastor was letting it draw on for so long. He himself didn’t understand why he enjoyed the feeling.

“Thank you,” you started slowly, afraid to break the silence. You worried that calling attention back to reality would make Alastor shove you away and walk you home like nothing happened. When he made to move to do so, you continued. “For… saving me. I really appreciate it.”

“I couldn’t leave you in the hands of that pompous Overlord,” Alastor responded matter-of-factly. Though, you did notice the sudden lack of radio ambience in his voice. You bit back the thought of making any sort of joke about him actually caring about you—now was definitely an extremely inappropriate time for that. Maybe later.

You pulled away from the embrace slightly, making eye contact with the radio demon, your faces inches apart. You saw something in those red eyes that looked back at you, a spark of some desire that you wouldn’t dare name in front of him. You would be lying if you didn’t feel the same, too. 

When had you fallen for this guy? This overimposing jerk that manipulated you into selling your soul to him to throw you around like a doll? And why? Maybe him actually pulling his weight in your deal helped you finally realize your unknown attachment to him.

In your thoughts, you failed to realize how the proximity of your faces had gotten smaller and smaller, and you were only jerked back to the present when you felt the lightest touch of his lips against yours. In shock, you had opened your eyes, but quickly closed them when you realized what was happening. 

What felt like ages was really only a couple seconds, which was the capacity Alastor could handle. He pulled himself away, and you didn’t fail to see the hue of red that heated his face, though it was light. He cleared his throat and pressed his lips into a thin line, before he composed himself into his usual happy smile.

“A siren, I see!” He joked, trying to play himself cool as he looked down at his chest to fix his bowtie. “That wasn’t part of our deal.”

You flashed him a coy grin, unwrapping yourself from the hug and struggling to your feet. He gingerly held your hand in his so you wouldn’t fall, and let you lean against him. Falling from that wire grabbing you had evidently caused your ankle to sprain, and you were just now realizing after the adrenaline had left your system. You looked up at him playfully.

“Surely contracts can be changed.”

Alastor hummed in response, looking forward to not meet your eyes. That wasn’t a no, though.

part i part ii

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[snk-smartpass]

TEXT Vol. 05 Jean’s Textbook

He’d gotten rid of as many of his belongings as possible when he joined the Survey Corps. There was no point in bringing anything like his jumbled collection of notes, and anything he did need he could buy or be issued. There was one item, however, that he kept in his bags because he’d need them to review the basics when understanding an operation.

“…My textbooks, huh. I guess I did leave them here.”

It had been some time since Jean last returned to his quarters. When he opened his bags in the personal space he’d been assigned, something moved him to pull the books out.

••••••

Around the time the old regime had been overthrown and Jean had met up with the main unit of the army…

Jean had been acting separately from the rest of the Survey Corps as a member of the “new Team Levi,” keeping him away from the main unit for some time. His bags had been haphazardly tidied up, just like those belonging to the rest of his squad. Now that much had been settled and he had returned, he needed to prepare next for the new operation to retake Wall Maria. When he unfastened his bag, he found a number of textbooks he’d used during his time in the Training Corps.

“I can’t believe I kept these …”

Even though he’d joined the Survey Corps and found himself in an ever-changing situation, he couldn’t allow himself to be negligent when it came to reviewing his fundamentals… And so he’d brought these books upon someone’s recommendation.

“A Guide to Marching Drills… What does this say about nighttime movement on horseback, again?”

One of these volumes seemed to be exactly the reference material he needed for the upcoming operation, and he casually began flipping through its pages.

••••••

[Seems like this appears on exams a lot.]

“…What’s this?”

The first handwritten words to jump out at him were not his own. These were marks left behind during a group study session for a written exam in his Training Corps days. Jean remembered sitting in the center of everyone, having placed his own textbook in the middle of the desk for them all to see and at times write in as they discussed this and that.

Jean couldn’t remember who the rushed cursive belonged to at first, but his memories of that day gradually began to return to him.

(Armin? No… If it was the person right next to me… I guess it’d be Marco.)

The words were written right-side-up on one side of the book. They’d been penned by someone reaching in from the side.

He shook his head at the memory of his close and now departed friend as he turned the page to find other writings.

••••••

“What’s this one say…?”

Jean couldn’t read the upside-down letters at first. He turned the book around, then gasped.

[Horses can move in other unpredictable ways. Be careful]

[—>Finger whistling, page 54]

The thick and powerful words of caution belonged to Reiner.

The thin and weak words that pinpointed Jean’s weaknesses and noted where he needed to read belonged to Bertolt.

Back then… they were comrades he learned alongside. In fact, it had been Reiner who suggested that he hold onto his textbooks. He had said that while Jean was talented, he had a tendency to rely on the fact. That’s why he needed to hold onto books that would let him go back to basics.

“…He really could see what’s most important.”

The contents of this textbook would have to be solidly in the minds of the two who were now on the “other side.” They would also know how the Corps would move by horseback according to it, too.

In other words… such was the opponent that now awaited them.

“The last ones I wanted to have to face went and became our enemies.”

…So this is what they meant when they said the world is a cruel place.

Jean quietly closed the book and placed it deep within his bags, as if to seal away the memories of the time he spent with the two.

••••••

SOURCE: Attack on Titan: Short Stories 3

TRANSLATION: Ko Ransom

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 10

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; none. idiots in love

notes ; ITS YEARNING HOURS BAYBEE ‼️ for the first time ever, a bit of childe’s POV, wowie zowie!! also a bit of a cheesy chapter LMFAO, it’s just these two dinguses “reaching” the realization that they want each other so bad, it makes them look stupid.

also a smidgen hint at the end towards the next phase of this dumpster fire of a fic >:3

ok and finally- i know i already made a post abt it but like. would u guys still love me if i posted a luke castellan fic? it’s SO self indulgent bc i’m brain rotting from the percy jackson show so idk yet :>

previous | next | masterlist

old wooden planks creak with each step childe takes.

he’d long lost the count of the days he’d spent in this peculiar inazuman domain— the mystic omnyou chamber, his companions called it. though what a fascinating domain it was, ever-changing and ever-puzzling but most of all, ever-deploying more enemies for him to fight his way through. he feels like only now he truly knows what teucer must’ve felt like in front of all those mr. cyclopses all those months ago.

he felt as though he was given a little too much breathing room by the motherland, still being stationed in liyue with you whoever knows how long his mission was finished, so it was no less than perfect to hear the news of scaramouche’s disappearance from inazuma after taking the gnosis for himself. as much as he disliked to have to leave you in northland bank with the promise of the two of returning together still at hand, he dully needed to take up on his responsibilities as one of her majesty’s harbingers.

still, he could fair by through the remembrance of you and his love for combat.

it’s amusing how freshly burned into his mind the memory of your time together at dottore’s lab was, even when he was half-conscious and at his physically weakest. how you soothed away his wounds with the cool breeze of your cryo powers, how you kept him company while he recovered, how you called him a pret-

“psst— you’re doing that thing again.”

“h-huh..?”

the harbinger is snapped from his daydreaming by paimon naggingly whispering to him. as childe finds himself back in reality, he registers the sight of the traveler, xinyan and shiki taishou walking ahead distractedly through the narrow dusty hallways of the domain, while paimon had fallen back alongside him.

“are you back now? ok good.” the travel guide snides, hands sassily placed at her hips.

childe chuckles sheepishly. “i-i’m sorry, paimon, but i’m not quite sure what you’re talking about.”

“oh, come on, it’s so obvious! the entire time we’ve been here, you’ve been doing this thing where you either doze off thinking about y/n! y’know as someone so passionate about fighting, you really need to get your head in the game right now.”

he feigns an offended scoff. “that is entirely untrue, comrade. my focus is solely on figuring out this domain’s mysteries and defeating its monsters.”

there’s a brief pause, where childe thoroughly reevaluates what paimon just said.

“wait, how did you know i was thinking about y/n? i-if i were dozing off and possibly thinking about them!”

she scoffs. “puh-lease, you’ve been babbling about them since we got here! almost everything you’ve said has somehow trailed off into y/n, so much so that even shiki taishou is caught up on what’s happened with you two!”

paimon was someone known to be a bit eccentric and overreactive at certain moments, but she also had her moments of being very bluntly honest in other situations. this was one of them. the harbinger deliberates for a moment, out of all the time he’s spent venturing this domain with the paper doll, just how much information had he unwillingly retained about you.

suddenly, a moment of clarity washes over childe and he vividly recalls all the moments during his venture in the domain where he’s talked about you. saying things such as ‘i wonder how y/n is doing right now…’, or ‘hah, y/n’s cryo attacks would demolish these enemies.’ or even ‘oh! that reminds of this one time, when y/n and i were kids…’. lest we mention the multiple times he’s said ‘i can’t wait to return to inazuma with y/n and show them this.’ whenever he’d been exploring the electro land’s scenic locations.

poor shiki taishou.

but then again, is it truly his fault that the mystic omnyou chamber had so many moments and details that were so clearly reminiscent of you? o-or maybe… maybe this was just a domain and everything reminded him of you regardless. but that’s the more unlikely possibility.

he curses scaramouche in his mind for a brief moment. it was all because he decided to go rogue that childe had to leave so abruptly— just when he’d made amends with you, just when the two of you were restoring your friendship. just when you’d started to flash him that devastating smile of yours again, instead of the standoffish snarl you’d presented during his mission in liyue. gods, he could feel his heart pang against his chest. surely it was just the adrenaline of battle, though. even if the group hadn’t faced enemies in more than ten minutes by now.

an even further tucked part of childe’s mind curses paimon next, for pointing out how much he speaks of you, because now he truly cannot stop. he looks ahead towards the end of the corridor and he can’t see what’s next, can’t see the next tatami matted arena where he’ll face a new wave of enemies, something he thinks he wants— no, all he sees is you.

it’s like your face is burned into his retinas, your fond laughter burned into brain and the warm feeling of when he slept against your shoulder burned into his skin.

childe doesn’t doesn’t fight as well as before in the next battle, he’s sloppy and distracted. after the arena is cleared, he’s left with a scratch across his bicep— which, thankfully, the domain grants a healing sigil to mend.

but it’ll never cure him like you do, never soothe the very core of his being like your powers do and it’ll never look at him the same way you did, caring and attentive.

he remembers how he felt lookup up at you then— like you were the stars in the night sky. he needed to get this mission over with as soon as possible.

—

you could almost hear your mother’s nagging tone telling you to not play with your food. as delicious as liyuean cuisine was, you’d lost your appetite halfway through your meal- as well as interest in the tale the restaurant’s storyteller was telling.

it’d been probably the dullest week you’ve had in a while, no new assignments from the motherland, no events happening in the city and… admittedly, no childe.

you can’t find the effort to lie to yourself and say it’s fine that he’s gone, that it’s for the tsaritsa’s noble cause— you don’t care about it. scaramouche could screw off with the gnosis and live his life, as far as you were concerned. in fact, you’d say he deserves it, given all he’s gone through with the doctor, even if he could be an astronomical asshole at times— well most of the times.

and now you can’t decide who to blame for childe’s absence, the balladeer or the tsaritsa. either way, it’s affected you more than you’d ever admit out loud. it’s been such a monotone week not just because of the distinct lack of anything to do in liyue lately, but also because of a distinct lack of… someone to worry about. yeah, that’s what it was, just an unusual sense of calm and nothing to stress over, that’s all—

“even in all my years, i’ve rarely seen someone stare at an unfinished bowl of dragon beard noodles with such intensity.”

a rumbling, baritone voice quips jokingly from across your small table and you’re startled away from your thoughts. looking up, the comment is revealed to come from mr. zhongli, the consultant from wanshe— oh, who were you kidding, the now former geo archon.

you hadn’t formerly spoken to him since the mission to take, well, his gnosis. after the situation with osial was diffusd, you beared witness to an unsettlingly diplomatic exchange between mr. zhongli and the fair lady, where he gave away the very culmination of his divinity like it was spare change. of course, you’ve spotted him countless times around the harbor— merely enjoy the little things the city had to offer. you can’t truly fault him for making the decision that he did, six thousand years is, unspokenly, too much time to not peruse the fruits of his labor from up close.

“a-ah, mr. zhongli! it’s been so long since we last spoke.” you scramble to politely greet zhongli and briefly wonder if you should stand up to bow to him, which he seems to notice.

“my apologies for startling you, doctor— may i?” he gestures to the seat in front of you and you nod.

“yes, it has been some time. i recall you being there for the completion of my contract with the fair lady, but the last time the two of us had the opportunity to meet casually was the very same night we first met.”

you nod curtly— you’re tense, you don’t know why. you know he’s not an archon anymore, you were there to see it, but perhaps the real weight of being in the presence of someone so powerful, not just an archon but the oldest of the original seven, seems to have only settled in now. you feel almost as choked as when in the presence of the tsaritsa, which you know all the same that you shouldn’t be. zhongli chuckles amusedly.

“i ask you to treat me as though you would’ve that night in liuli pavilion, like any other acquaintance. chatting with a mere consultant of a funeral parlor requires no formalities. now— have you been well, doctor?”

you can still only bring yourself to nod wordlessly in response, there’s no need for zhongli to know how royally miserable you’ve been lately.

“and.. may i ask why you held such a glare towards your meal? is it not your liking?”

“oh, no the noodles are just fine, amazing even! i was just… contemplating wether to finish it or not.”

great cover.

“hm,” zhongli hums with playful suspicion. “while a reasonable topic of contemplation, it did very much seem as though you were rather staring through the bowl, as though there is something on your mind. i would not mind hearing what is it that vexes you, doctor— if you’re comfortable to share, of course.”

yeah there was no fooling a, again, six thousand year old divine being with a half-assed excuse like yours. you sigh.

“well— yes, you caught me. the last few days have been, uh… less than peachy for me.”

“what exactly is it troubles you these days?”

“i wouldn’t say it’s trouble but, there hasn’t been much to do at northland bank lately. and childe has been out on a mission for some time now— b-but it’s mainly the lack of assignments!” you stammer.

“is that so? i did hear of childe’s sudden departure for inazuma but it is curious that you’re being kept stationed here with essentially nothing to do. but, if i may— has childe been absent for as long as you’ve felt dull at work or would you say there is no relation?”

already at so few words out of sheer nervousness, zhongli managed still to render you completely and utterly speechless. what are you even supposed to respond to this?

“i-i uhm, i… alright, i won’t even try.” you sigh in defeat and zhongli looks coyly pleased. he patiently awaits for you to gather your thoughts and actually say more than two stammered sentences.

“i truly can’t tell what it is. i feel like i’m supposed to be worrying for him— as if he’ll get injured again or injure someone else o-or even worse, do something stupid but there’s just.. nothing! it’s like i’m so used to being aware of his presence and now there’s nothing and it’s- it’s frustrating.”

“you miss him.”

you pause. do you miss him? no, it can’t be so simple— you have a medical degree, it is most certainly improbable that you’ve been trying your brain over just missing childe. well, sure it was great that the two of you were starting to make amends and stopped being so on-edge around each other but… there’s no objective reason for you to miss him.

right?

“i would not say i even near the level of an expert on matters concerning relationships between people, but i’ve seen a lot in my time. enough to tell you with confidence that it’s most likely you just.. miss him, doctor. and that it is okay to feel this way. the two of you do not stand at odds anymore, you never have— it is reasonable for you to be affected by his absence.”

you furrow your eyebrows. “how do you know if… childe and i stand at odds, mr. zhongli.”

“well, i have witnessed it. both directly and indirectly— the tension and misunderstanding between the two of you during our meeting at liuli pavilion was quite evident and i’ve heard of how you opposed him in battle at the golden house. but that is all it has ever been, misunderstandings and disagreements, but you’ve never truly disliked each other.”

“h-how do you know-“

“he speaks quite highly of you, doctor.”

“wh-what?”

“childe has only ever spoken highly of you— i recall mentioning that had been looking forward to meeting you in person during our dinner, it is all because of how grand his description of you was. plus, during our eventual meetups, you’re mentioned at least once every time. and you, as we’ve discussed, do seem to hold some care towards him, to the extent that you first concern is his health.”

your heart aches and you hate it. it’s a terrible, void sensation that frustrates you to no end. why? why did childe have to make it so difficult for you? why can’t you ever feel simple feelings when it came to him? why couldn’t you ever just feel one way towards him with no smaller part of your brain saying something else? even worse, why couldn’t your brain ever think about anything else— literally anything, instead of just constantly orbiting around the mixed emotions you felt when it came to childe?

you just constantly, restlessly and unendingly seem to care about him.

“you know what, mr. zhongli, i think y—“

“ah, there you are, sergeant!”

a less familiar voice calls out from behind you and you turn around with a bit of surprise— it’s a man clad in fatui uniform, who you recognize as mikhail, one of the officers stationed at northland bank. he’s not exactly someone you interact much with, just a mere coworker you greet every other morning, so you’re perplexed as to why he’s seeking you outside the bank.

“mikhail, what is the occasion?” you ask, briefly eyeing zhongli to find that he remains with a neutral expression awaiting the exchange.

“i am deeply sorry for interrupting your lunch, sergeant, but ekaterina urged for me to find you as soon as i could. a letter has come in from lord dottore for you specifically— she says it is of utmost importance.”

—

the wharf is unusually crowded today.

an untimely flux of either tourists or returning immigrant citizens, perhaps it is an important time of year in another nation— although, childe could truly care less at the moment. he’s doing his best to politely push his way through the sea of people leaving their respective ships while almost unconsciously seeking you out within it. he knows you wouldn’t be here, as his return to liyue was unannounced, but his eyes fly to latch onto your likeness anyway.

childe ends up finding you right in the center of the harbor’s main street, practically right below the catwalks that lead to the bank. you’re slowly pacing back and forth, a piece of paper clutched in your hands and a vacant expression on your face— childe can’t find himself to clutch to those details right now, he just needs to get to your side. he makes large, determined steps towards you, big grin invading his features, and while he’s still approaching you, you spot him and your eyes widen even more. once childe is a mere two steps away from you, he stops.

“y/n! oh, it’s so good to see you!” he heaves out gladly.

“ajax—“ you reply in a quiet voice and his heart swells at the use of his real name. he truly can’t contain himself anymore and tackles you into a tight hug, one so strong that stumble back a bit.

his arms snake tightly from under your arms to above your shoulders and his head lowers from being against your own to reaching your shoulder blade— it is as close as he physically get to you, while trying to be respectful of your space, of course. you’re still in shock for maybe five seconds of the hug, but eventually you just let yourself slowly wrap around him and squeeze ever so slightly. both of you have your eyes closed to sink into the moment.

the hug is long, maybe twenty seconds so, and as childe becomes satisfied with its duration and pulls away, he remains with his hands to your elbows in a gentle hold. he sighs with said satisfaction and beams towards you.

“i have so much to tell you about inazuma! unfortunately, i couldn’t find scaramouche there but i managed to see so many beautiful places, so many amazing experie- wait.. what’s wrong?”

the harbinger pauses mid sentence when he notices the numbness in your expression and his bright grin falls into a concerned frown— you feel like the most terrible person for making him lose such excitement. your mouth opens and closes as you find what to say, but you eventually whisper it out.

“ajax, i-i… i have to go to sumeru.”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

[dieaverage]

ROSE-COLORED BOY — eddie munson x female reader as childhood friends to enemies to friends again to sickeningly-in-love lovers

eddie munson x female reader

series summary: six months after the death of your mother darlene byers, you return to hawkins, indiana to try and make sense of everything. what you don’t anticipate is how much running into him on your first night back, five years after your desertion, will break your heart (and his) all over again.

author’s note: hi! going to be so unapologetically real with you all and say i have no clue of where this is headed, but after my hyper-fixating ass decided to host an eddie munson revival party of one on the cusp of the year of our lord 2024, i knew i had to write something so other people could at least be subjected to the workings of my mind. i hope you like it, and if you don’t, well, that’s a you problem i fear! but seriously if you do have any ideas/directions you would like to see this heading, please please please do not hesitate to let me know! this is my first time posting any of my work on tumblr *gasp* so i mean it when i say criticism is warmly welcomed. <3

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chapter one — spaghetti and meatballs

word count: 1.6k+

NEXT

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A thin mist descended upon the forested thoroughfare to the town you once felt you knew so well, though were no longer so sure. The weighty four-worded acknowledgement bounced around in your head over and over as you approached the deceptively disarming "Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana" sign, so heavily you were almost convinced it was rousing a sleeping migraine, and yet no matter how many times you repeated the seemingly familiarising phrase under bated breath, it felt no less alien to you.

After all, this was never truly your home. Countless summers spent at your cousins' house, even four begrudgingly defining years clocked up at Hawkins High School, had never allowed you to feel like you had earned the right to label it as such. It was your mother's home, as if she had beat you to staking any claim on it, and now that she was no longer around, any ties you thought you might have had to it felt well and truly severed.

Precarious ties aside, it was here you found yourself, in Hawkins. Mere months after the death of your mother. The offer had unfalteringly been there, "whe- if- it ever gets to be too much, Daphne, you know you can come stay with me and the boys", and yet your eventual acceptance of it made you feel nothing short of an imposter.

Any hopes for a discreet arrival were instantaneously dashed as your Cavalier pulled onto the unforgiving gravelly driveway, your tires connecting with the stones to create a disturbance you were sure could have woken any nearby animals out of hibernation, had they assumed an early one. Hawkins air had a perpetually wintry quality, after all. The front door swung open before you even had a chance to remove your keys from the ignition, and the sight of the emerging sixteen year old boy unwillingly brought a beaming smile to your face.

"Daphne!!!!" he called out, advancing towards you at an incredible and equally terrifying speed.

"Hi, Will!" a laugh couldn't help but escape your lips as he wrapped you into a tight hug, the force of which setting you off balance momentarily. He used to be so... delicate. "You've gotten so big!"

"He's got what, like, a foot on you now?" a voice exclaimed from the doorway, the discerning sarcasm of it all widening your already unshakeable grin.

"Lovely to see you too, Jonathan. And it's a couple inches, at best!"

Soon the three of you were embraced in a group hug, which although you would never admit it, had been long overdue. The slight stinging sensation in your eyes signalling the impending flood of tears prompted your swift ejection from the embrace. "So, where is my darling pseudo sister?" you questioned as you walked through the threshold of the Byers abode, attempting to inject some humour into what had already become a far too confronting display of emotions, and almost as if on cue Joyce emerged from the adjoining room.

"Oh, Daphne!" she cried out, consuming you in a hug that could only be described as motherly. You felt it considerably harder to fight back the tears this time. "Hi, Joyce." you exhaled into her shoulder, trying with all your might to resist crumbling in her arms right there. You had been alone for, what, six months? This exhibition of emotion, or rather, the suppression of it, left you feeling weak, and was perhaps the very reason you had avoided coming for so long.

Darlene would never have earned an award for her maternity, and you often thought that if there were such a scale to measure someone who would, your own mother would, against all odds, find a way to fall below it. She wasn't well, that much had been evident for the entirety of your time together, and increasingly so in the end, but in her wake you wondered how much longer you could accept it as an excuse. Above all else, you felt abandoned. Joyce, and the boys, they were wonderful. Truthfully speaking, Joyce had been more of a mother to you in your formative years than Darlene ever was, and Will and Jonathan, they would always be your little brothers as far as you were concerned. But still, in their house now, observing the three of them together, you helplessly felt like a guest, as if years of intimacy had been erased. Nothing had occurred to suggest this, of course. No, these thoughts were all of your own creation, from the mind you had so wished to desert so many times in the last six months.

“Daphne, honey, you must be starving. What can I whip up for us?”

"Spaghetti and meatballs, Mom, please?" Will exhorted, snapping you out of your self imposed hypnotic state.

"I think we should let Daphne choose, Will." Joyce sweetly urged him. "Daphne, what would you like?" You looked up at her from your place on the couch which you hadn't even recalled assuming, and then over to Will who was waiting in anticipation for your answer.

"Spaghetti and meatballs sounds great. Gotta love Italian!" you exclaimed, and Will and Jonathan high-fived quietly from across the room. Joyce shared a knowing look with you and giggled before turning back towards the kitchen. It brought a certain degree of reassurance to you that some things truly never change, one of which being the Byers boys' inability to grow up.

"Joyce," you scurry behind her, "thank you. I- it's been a... weird couple months, but being with y'all, it's already helping."

"Oh, Daphne," Joyce pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "I thought about you constantly. I wanted to make the trip down to Austin, to be there for you, but with the boys and then work-"

"I know. It's okay. I'm here now. You don't have to worry anymore."

"Easier said than done." Joyce gave an unassured look. "Please, just... don't hesitate to talk to me, okay? If it's too much. You're like a daughter to me, Daphne, and I know the boys think of you as a big sister. This is your home. For as long as you want it to be."

You promptly gave her a cuddle, hoping it could express your gratitude in a way you knew your words couldn't without risk of activating the waterworks, before announcing, "Hey, I think I might head out for a while after dinner. Check out that booming Hawkins nightlife. I can't even remember the last time I got a drink here."

"And legally, at that!" Joyce countered playfully, you giving her a slight push to quiet down, afraid that Will or Jonathan might wish to learn a thing or two of your teenage antics, ammunition you certainly were not ready to equip them with.

"Hey, I handled my alcohol well, okay!" you argued, though not compellingly.

"Law enforcement might disagree." she laughed, her head elsewhere, presumably recalling your countless run ins with the Hawkins police department.

"Okay yes, somewhat of a troubled teen..." you admitted, "but you know, I got over it. I went to college. I grew up." Joyce met your eyes with a smile, "I know you did. I'm so proud of you, Daph."

Eventually, dinner was ready, and the group had no sooner sat down at the dinner table before Will had engulfed the contents of his plate, now proudly demonstrating its emptiness to Joyce. "Finished! Can I please go to Mike's now?" he asked her with eyes so wide you feared they could momentarily eject from their sockets, making the question posed that much sweeter.

"Alright, alright." she giggled, "Just be careful, okay? Biking at a reasonable speed will not hinder your chances of escaping dungeons or slaying dragons, I promise."

Will met his mother's failed attempt at understanding his favourite game with an unforgiving roll of the eyes before the table burst into laughter with Will pulling Joyce into a hug, and then Jonathan.

"See you later, Daphne!" he exclaimed before wrapping his arms around you and hurriedly darting out the front door, leaving you once again with an aching smile plastered on your face. What a sweet boy, you thought to yourself.

"A couple hours and he already has Daphne wrapped around his finger!" Jonathan said jokingly, sending both you and Joyce into laughter once again. "What can I say, he's a good kid!"

"Once upon a time, you were too, Jonathan!" you said wiggling your finger at him with an air of mockery, giving a playful nudge to his shoulder before grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

Closing the door behind you, you catch sight of Will wheeling his bike down the rough driveway. "Hey, wait up!"

Even from a distance you could make out his cheesy grin, and you couldn't help but think about what a heartbreaker he would make one day.

"So, Will the Wise! Off to another campaign?" you proclaim as you reach him, and the use of his nickname only causes his smile to grow wider.

"You remembered?"

"How could I forget?! I was only gone a couple years. Will the Wise's legacy, now that will last centuries." you tease.

"I really missed you, Daphne. So did Mom, almost as much as Jonathan!"

"Jonathan? Wow, he said that? Can we get that in writing?"

"Seriously!" he slapped your arm lightly as the briefly shared portion of your journey came to a close, preparing to mount his bike for the ride to the Wheeler house, "I'm so glad you're home."

With what felt suspiciously like watering eyes approaching, you swallowed harshly before taking his hand in yours. "Me too."

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nero Rose || Mob!Steve Rogers

Character: Mob!Steve Rogers x Detective!Reader

Warning: None

Words Count: 1,539

Summary: She has bad blood towards the famous gangster leader called Steve Rogers. With his influences, he sent her to the outskirts city. Then one day, you received a called that said Steve Rogers wanted to talk to you. When you come back and meet him again, something terrible happens. 

This is the story of the enemy-to-lovers.

A/N: Reblog and any feedback are much appreciated. I love reading all your comments. 💖😘

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

A crowded street, sounds of car horns, smell of piss. All the little things made you miss New York.

It's been 8 months since you left the city. It wasn't your choice to be exact. You left because the head of the police demoted you from detective to traffic police. 

You want to protest but it's impossible since your opponent is the powerful mob in the city. 

Steve Rogers is the king of the mafia. His power in business, politics and network in the underworld made him unbeatable. No one can bring him down. 

Until you did. 

You found the drugs and weapons that connected to Rogers. You got him good. And the media and citizens also support you. 

But you have no support when it comes to law and politics. The almighty Steve Rogers has given money to the judge and governor that could give them a third family. He also paid the best lawyer. 

In the end, he only spent 3 nights in jail and went home. While you got sent to the outskirts city. You hate your boss and everyone. It took a while for you to accept the new life you have.

When you started to let it go, you suddenly got a call from the chief of police. 

-Flashback Start-

He said, "Steve Rogers got stabbed."

You don't understand what's the point he told you this "Cheers for me. You want me to attend his funeral? I will wear white."

"He's still alive."

You scoffed "Too bad."

"He's a victim but he doesn't want to talk. He said that he only wants to talk to you."

-Flashback End-

That's why you return to New York. You want to see the look on his face, being pale and weak after getting hurt.

But before that, you're going to buy flowers. A gift for sick patients. You picked a perfect one for him. At the flower shop, you pointed at one flower. "I want that one."

The shop employee is an elderly woman. Her name is Sienna. You've known her since you were a kid. She's a joyful and funny grandma. 

Sienna raised her eyebrows and looked at the flower you chose. She picked the flowers one by one. "That's an odd choice to visit a sick person. It means 'You're dead to me.'"

You smirked "Is that what it means? Even better." 

You gave her the money after you received the flower bucket. "You're the best Sienna. I'll see you tomorrow."

She gave a warm smile "Bye, Y/N ."

You arrived at the hospital and immediately saw one of his trusted right hands. Bucky Barnes. He's standing outside while smoking. 

He put out his cigarette when he saw you "Detective Y/N."

You rolled your eyes "Fuck off. Where is he?"

Bucky scoffed and brought you to the VIP room. Before he opened the door, you could hear people talking, and laughing from inside the room. 

When the door got open, and you walked inside, everyone turned silent and looked at you. All of them are wearing black suits. 

8 months without seeing any mafia made you forget that you just entered enemy territory.

You gathered any courage that you had and walked towards the patient. You expect Steve to be pale, weak, and lying motionless on his bed since he got stabbed.

But your expectations betrayed you. In front of you, Steve Rogers is sitting like a boss with a half robe opened that shows his torsos tattoos. His hair even got combed to the back. He doesn't look sick.

"Aww, you bring me a gift. Thank you detective Y/N."

There it is. He always finds a way to make you angry. He knew you're not a detective anymore. You hate to admit it, even though he's a jerk, gangster, and narcissist. His face and his body are your type. 

Many fish in the sea but why do you have to like a man like him?

You clicked your tongue and then gave the flower to him "I ordered this for your funeral to be honest."

"Thank you doll." He handed the flower to his subordinate. "Did you buy this from the Sienna flower shop?"

"How did you know?"

"From the wrapping paper, the ribbon. I'm her loyal customer." He winked at you.

Well, that's something you learned from him. Perhaps he bought flowers for his girlfriend. 

You cleared your throat then grabbed a note and pencil from the pocket of your leather jacket.

"So what kind of person would dare to stab the gangster leader? That culprit must be crazy or a serial killer."

Suddenly the room turned quiet. Everyone is looking at you, including Steve. 

"You're right. Not even my rival dared to pick a fight with me. I could feel it. It's not them."

You crossed your arms "Why did you ask me to come here?"

"Since you left the city is not safe anymore. See? I got hurt. And, perhaps I missed the time we spent together."

You gritted your teeth. Geez, his words could make anyone misunderstood. The moment you spend with him is at the court or police station. 

The police station became an event. Paparazzi is always there, the media, he even invites a private chef to bring his lunch and dinner.

When you interrogate him, he always has wine beside him. It's impossible to make him stop since he got the best lawyer Matt Murdock. The famous lawyer who defends crooked people and always wins. 

You should've known that you have lost. 

"Enough with the jokes. What do you want?"

"I'm offering you a chance to come back. I want you to investigate my case."

"Why?"

Steve tilted his head a bit  "Because… I don't know. Maybe because I like playing with you."

You raised your voice "So you made me fly 4 hours to come here just for this?!!!"

Steve nodded. 

Oh, how he loves to see you being mad. That's his plan from the beginning. He still holds the grudge for you to make him stay in jail for three nights. 

-Flashback Start-

Steve was furious for sure when he got the letter from the court. He is the mobster leader in the city. How come a newcomer detective like you has the guts to put him to jail?

The audacity of ungrateful people. What's the point of bribing the police every month? They should've put a good leash on their member. 

Every second and every minute all he can think about is what he should do with you if both of you meet. Quick death or slow death. 

But he thinks of another plan when he finally meets you face to face. You're a new sheriff in the town. He wonders what kind of brilliant mind you have that made you able to catch him. 

When you interrogated him, you were fierce and fearless. Even the chief of the police told you to calm down but you wouldn't listen. 

Since that moment you got him interested. 

-Flashback End-

You suddenly stood up and sighed "If I had my gun, you would be bleeding right now."

"Is that a threat detective? Because I'm scared."

Bucky shook his head by looking at both of you. He turned his head to watch the TV. He widened his eyes when he saw the headline news. 

He turned up the volume "Steve, you should see this."

Both of you stopped arguing and looked at the TV. 

"Breaking news. Another stabbed victim at the well known flower shop called Sienna Flower's. The victim is a 77 years old female. Witnesses said the victim was closing the shop when she got stabbed. The paramedics informed us that the victim got stabbed on the chest and lost her life on the way to the hospital."

You gasped. "Sienna." You couldn't believe it. You just left the shop for an hour and something terrible happened. You lost your old friend. 

On your left, Steve only sees red. He clenched his fist. Sienna is a sweet old lady. His mother always went there and he always bought flowers from that shop for his mother.  

What kind of heartless person wants to hurt a kind person like Sienna? He will chase the culprit until the end of the earth.

"Boys."

"YES BOSS!!!"

"Gather everyone to check on that area. Everyone gathered all the information. I will kill that person by myself."

All his subordinates left the room after they got the order. 

After they left, Steve tried to stand up from his bed "Urgh." 

When he touches his left waist, you finally see his wound. It's still bleeding.

"Are you crazy? You can't move yet."

You're right. The stabbed wound was deep. If the painkiller runs out, this wound will be painful. The doctor told Steve that couldn't move his body freely for a week. And he doesn't want to get another stitch. 

Suddenly he got an idea. 

Steve leaned his body towards you and whispered in your ear, "Detective do you want to work together to catch who killed Sienna?"

You looked at his eyes. It never crossed your mind to work together with gangster leaders like Steve Rogers. But with his mafia connections, you could catch the culprits quicker. 

"Heck yeah."

A/N: Reblog and any feedback are much appreciated. I love reading all your comments. 💖😘

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

[bloodgulchblog]

In light of what others have asked about the Banished, do you ever feel like the narrative writers (not all, but by-and-large) haven’t been interested in telling stories about morally complex aliens—writing them as people, in other words?

After years spent waiting for the post-war setting, for me the Kilo Five trilogy’s messaging signaled that 343 weren’t interested in telling that kind of story, especially after more years of alien terrorists who really want to kill humans again constantly being centered (while seemingly ignoring that the Great Schism was A Thing) and with the Swords of Sanghelios being deemphasized to the point where only a paragraph in the 2022 Encyclopedia’s “Splinter Factions” section was dedicated to them while the Banished got three dozen.

With some of the new story shards and Halo: Outcasts I feel like things are starting to turn around, but I do worry that they’ll shift back.

I don't know anything about anything for real but I think what's going on is this:

First and foremost, before it is anything else, Halo is an investment Microsoft is trying to make money on. The way it does this is primarily by selling purchases in a live services video game where you compete at running around shooting other players and (only recently) sometimes computers. They do make money on merch and things like books and such, but it's not remotely as much as they make on shootman video game.

They have a huge incentive to continue telling stories where running around shooting is the main action. Ergo, the stories Halo's writers tell need to create excuses to have this action and to make that part seem fun and enticing.

(The fact that Halo's pvp has never really had anything to do with events occurring in the lore doesn't really matter, once they have the campaign story excuse game for the multiplayer. "It's a training exercise for Spartan-IVs" was a very late addition, and oldschool Halo didn't bother framing it at all because nobody cared. Frankly, I think most people who play Halo PVP still don't really care.)

So, Halo's not interested in post-war and anything that amounts to recovery because it doesn't do a lot to contribute to Halo's core goal of making shootgame money that keeps convincing Microsoft that the people who make Halo should get the paychecks they need to afford to live indoors and eat food.

I do think there are people working on Halo who are interested in and curious about these ideas, and I really do think the Arbiter and the Swords of Sanghelios and the Sangheili in general are house favorites. (Why else would they be finding excuses to continue bringing the Sangheili into the games even if they can only fit them in as part of the Banished now, when the Sangheili are the species the Jiralhanae probably hate the most?)

Honestly, Halo isn't good at deep or complex characters of any species most of the time and when things are good it's because someone managed to give them some extra love somewhere. Halo has never needed a watertight, emotionally intelligent narrative. It just sometimes skates close on things like the Arbiter, and even though the Arbiter's arc is easily the strongest part of Halo 2's story the gamers hated it and that's why it was so curtailed in Halo 3.

They gotta make shootman games, and sell the shootman games, and that requires an acceptable enemy. For a while they were pivoting toward having Forerunner enemies, but now those are associated with an unpopular time in Halo (especially Halo 5). And Halo is at an age where it feels like every new thing about it is "trying to return to the roots" so... shooting familiar-looking aliens that people have nostalgia for.

Frankly, this is the biggest reason why I'm sighing and waiting for them to bring back the Flood again even though I'm really just not looking forward to that. It feels inevitable.

[submitwittyblognamehere]

I am one again going insane about The Bifrost Incident (album by The Mechanisms (aka no-longer-immortal time traveling cyborg space pirate cabaret band, feat. hit podcast writer Jonathan Sims)) and all the complexity that's hinted at and expressed between Loki and Thor, specifically from Thor's perspective. That's it, I'm just thinking about Thor.

(long thoughts under the cut :3)

I'm thinking about what it means to have a friend and how it hurts to think you know her until one day she disappears. How could this have happened? Did she tell you her plans beforehand? Did she try to give you warning? Did you believe her? Had she whispered her desires to escape like a confession? Or worse, did she leave without so much as a "goodbye?" Do you play and replay your last conversations with her in your head, searching for codes and meaning that you can't ever be sure is there?

I'm thinking about what it means to lose someone, to feel absence in your chest like a cavity for years and years and years and.

I'm thinking about what it might mean to hold dear the memory of the one you're missing until she returns. And I'm thinking about how, when she returns, instead of a joyous reunion, her actions steal away someone else who was dear to you.

I'm thinking about how you've lost them both. She (because it is just "she" now, you can't even speak her name) is back---caught, more like, but your other is gone, and you hate her for it. There is no way to have them both. And now there is no way to have either of them. How could you be expected to forgive such an unconscionable and irreparable act? An inconsolable pain? You hate her so much for it that you can only feel vindication when she is executed. Did you feel vindicated? An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, but what is it like to feel as though you're the only one who can't accept that this happened?

I'm thinking about how the anger of betrayal (now, twice over) might feel, until your friend's enemy's death, and how you can expect that the very public exhibition of violence against her is the only closure you will ever receive.

Was she quiet at the gallows? Or did she plead and cry out her conspiracies, desperate for a listening ear? Did she beg for your help in the moments before her demise? Did you turn away from her, or did you watch until the life left her eyes? How could you stand it?

I'm thinking of how years may soften the sting of grief, but a dull knife can still wound.

I'm thinking of the years you spent alone, with only a fool as competent company.

I'm thinking of ghosts. I'm thinking of anger and mirth. I'm thinking about reflections and the face you saw on that damned train. Did you feel a brief moment of joy at her familiarity, or did you jump right to the impossibility of her presence? Did you feel any hope at reconciliation, or did that only come later after the last remnants of remorse had finally left you?

I'm thinking about how, head clouded with confusion and rage, you confronted the mastermind behind all of your frustration; and how in exchange for your effort you, too, were excommunicated.

I'm thinking about how priorities change in the face of tragedy; how unlikely alliances form in the most desperate of situations; how there is room for shared grief to be felt together, even as you and your new Ally put the past behind you.

I'm thinking about your decision to be the final one to confront the Mastermind.

I'm thinking about how, even after death, there is no room for forgiveness.

I'm thinking about how, even before death, there is still room for peace.

You stand and face the friend you no longer know; the friend you will now never forget. She faces you and you both understand that there is no more time to figure things out, there is only the violence that lies between you and the union you find in the middle.

I'm thinking about the many meanings of vengeance and love, of peace and honor.

I'm thinking about courage, ambition, fear, audacity, stubbornness, reason, determination, rage, frustration, loss, acceptance, sabotage, power, maliciousness, mourning, and strength.

I'm thinking about autonomy and how you were able to choose the way in which you ended things.

I'm thinking about friends. Was it enough?

[darkpoisonouslove]

I said I was going to talk about Fallen Love and I will. Mainly because Valtor's mental state during chapter 3 is thoroughly fascinating.

He has just achieved all of his goals - freedom from the Ancestral Witches, destroying his enemies (aka the Company of Light) and getting Griffin back. The high of that victory is undeniable; he's completely drunk on the rush of power and the security of finally being in control of himself. Having Griffin match him in his excitement and eagerness over their reunion only makes it all the more heady. He's on top of the world and she's finally back at his side where she belongs. Everything is right with his world; he's gotten all he wants (though there's always room for improvement once he's finished celebrating his current success). And then...

He wakes up the next morning with Griffin in his arms and he's completely mesmerized. To the point where it scares him how hard it is to think about anything else. He is free for the first time in his entire life. He has worked for this moment, has craved it so badly for centuries and now that it's finally here... It's completely overshadowed by his desire, his need for the woman that betrayed him and joined his enemies. It instantly sours his mood but what's more terrifying is that even that doesn't make it easier to tear himself away from her.

He could be anywhere right now, working only towards his own goals for the first time since he was created and he cannot be bothered to think about anything that's not her. In fact, all he wants is to stay in bed with her and make sure neither one of them remembers those three years they spent separated, that neither of them remembers there was ever a time when they weren't together. It's like his whole drive and ambition has completely crumbled at the sight of her in his reach. It's positively terrifying.

He manages to force himself out of the palace but before he can get anything done, he's compelled to return by Raina's meltdown over the destruction Griffin has caused to her palace and the threat she poses to the security of her Very Special device. And this is Fine; it's a little bit of revenge even when Griffin got to feel for herself what it was like for him to find her gone when he expected to see her where he'd left her. Her desperation to bring him back is reassuring - she matches him in her need for them to be together and he can use that to his advantage.

It's all well and good until Griffin tries to vanish on him again, testing him as if he's the one that has to prove something, as if he's not completely justified in feeling some vindication at her reaction. He deserves emotional compensation for the years that she was on the side of his enemies and fought against him. She should be remorseful and apologetic instead of trying to get under his skin, get a raise out of him just to make herself feel better for what is totally righteous retribution.

It only gets worse when her jealousy starts to rear its head. Because THAT was never a part of Valtor's plans. It's an insult to him that Griffin would doubt his feelings for her and his devotion after she was the one who left him, betrayed him only to join people that were beneath her and hated both of them. He absolutely doesn't think that she has the right to be mad at him about anything he's done since she left him, especially when she's wildly misinterpreting his intentions.

He never meant to replace her with Raina. He only wanted her to see how he sees her alliance with the Company - like the waste of time that it was, like the insult that it was to the relationship between the two of them. That is sacred and he was aiming exactly to make her realize that through the anger he knew his alliance with Raina would spark in her. It was meant to make her open her eyes and come back to him, not doubt his feelings for her in any capacity. Raina is nothing to him despite the plans and agendas he might share with her - just like the Company should have been nothing to Griffin. He was simply demonstrating how getting others involved in the relations between the two of them demeans them both and the sanctity of their bond. And Griffin went completely off the rails but not in the direction he had predicted. Her refusing his offer to be partners again is just the cherry on top of a huge, tall cake of offenses against him.

[sacred-stanning]

Chapter 18 Part 2: The Map

Here's my team for this map.

This was a hard one, because the eggs on this map are amazing for boosting experience, so it's tempting to bring everyone, which of course is impossible.

I'm bringing both Moulder and L'Arachel because they can both use Restore Staves, and I may need them.

We start in the lower-left corner of the map, with one initial path up and right.

Moving the screen up, we can see more eggs, and a Gargoyle. This is where the path splits and either continues up, or goes right.

And even farther up, there are more eggs, another Gargoyle, and a Gorgon.

To the right of the starting position, here's the other path that heads right, with more eggs.

...and a Gargoyle and an Eye.

Up from the above photo, we see more eggs and another Eye.

And in the upper right, where the two routes converge again, there are more Eyeballs, eggs, and a boss Gorgon.

Here is one example of a Gorgon enemy. They have a "magical illusion wave movement" ("Demon Surge" in the official translation) as their weapon.

The second two characters in the weapon's name are "hadou", like Ken and Ryu's "Hadouken".

Funny enough, this very weak Gorgon is the boss!

I think this boss may have been powered up in the US release, because I saw a higher level and better stats listed when I looked the map up online. In fact, I almost wonder if it was a mistake that the boss ended up so weak in the Japanese release.

The eyeballs are different than the ones earlier in the game. The name in Japanese says "bee-goo-loo", so...

"beagle"??? "biggle"????? (I like "biggle". That's a cute name!)

I looked it up, and I think they were called "Arch Mogall" in English.

Their attack is called "Evil Eye".

Here's another Gorgon. I'm showing this one because, even though it's a lower level than the boss one above, it has better stats! It really seems likely that the boss being so under-powered was due to some sort of oversight.

Here's an example of the Gargoyles we'll be dealing with.

And here's another Gorgon. This photo is here to show off the other weapon that some of the Gorgons have, which is the reason why I'm bringing two Restore Staves.

"Stone" has 1-3 range, and if it hits, the unit gets turned to stone and is unable to move for a couple turns. They also cannot avoid attacks, and enemies who attack them have a base 30% crit rate, <D.A.R.E.> so it's pretty dangerous to get stoned </D.A.R.E.>.

Syrene found Lute shortly before the small front line force was to head out. Lute was sitting on the ground near her horse, writing something in a book.

Syrene really didn't want to think of herself as an overbearing older sister who kept tabs on who Vanessa spent time with...but she also was so used to looking out for her sister since she was little that she couldn't help herself.

"I'm not going to be nosy and weird about it" she thought to herself. "I'm just going to say hi and see what kind of person she is."

"Hello, Lute, right?" Syrene stood in front of Lute and spoke to her.

Lute looked up at her. "Hello," Lute said in return. "You are the woman with the Linder's Pegasus."

"Uh, yes. My name is Syrene. I just wanted to thank you again for coming to my rescue."

"I did not know you were there. I was following Vanessa because she saw the townspeople from the air, and we wanted to try to save them."

"Right..." Syrene was struck again by how the conversation didn't quite go where she expected whenever she talked with this girl. "Well, thank you anyway for helping me, even if that wasn't your original goal."

Lute nodded and said nothing.

Syrene waited a moment, but it didn't seem like Lute was going to talk, so she continued. "Actually, I also wanted to thank you for helping out my sister."

Lute looked at Syrene blankly. "Who?" she asked.

Syrene smiled. "Vanessa! Vanessa is my sister! I'm sorry, I guess you didn't know that yet. I guess she hasn't ever mentioned me to you, right?"

"No, she has not mentioned you." Lute tilted her head slightly and looked at Syrene's face. "I can see the resemblance though. It is not surprising to find out that you are sisters."

"Well, at any rate, Vanessa told me that you have been good friends with her, and I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate you looking out for her. She's my only sister, and I used to look out for her myself when she was younger, but we haven't even seen each other in almost 4 years now..."

Syrene stopped talking and looked at Lute's face. Lute was no longer looking directly at her, but instead was looking up in the air slightly and twirling a lock of her hair in one finger.

Without looking at Syrene, Lute suddenly asked, "Vanessa said I was a good friend?"

Syrene nodded, "Yes. And, well, not to embarrass her, but ever since she was a kid, Vanessa hasn't always made a lot of friends, so I was really relieved to hear that she had someone she was getting along with in this army."

"I also have never had many friends," Lute stated matter-of-factly. "I am glad to hear that Vanessa said that."

Lute was still twirling her hair as she spoke. "Although, to be fair, I do not think Vanessa is judging the situation accurately. I have not been a good friend because I am bad at explaining things sometimes, and I collapsed in the library and made her worry. I think that Moulder is a much better friend to her."

Syrene didn't respond at first. "It sounds like she's confessing to me! What am I supposed to say to this?" she thought.

As Syrene was looking at Lute, wondering how to respond, she noticed Lute's gaze drift beside her.

"Vanessica Vanessicus!" Lute said suddenly, and got up into a half-crouch position.

Syrene followed Lute's gaze and saw a bright green beetle perched on a tuft of grass near her feet.

"Oh! What a pretty beetle!" Syrene said. Then she asked Lute, "But what did you just call it?"

"I called it Vanessica Vanessicus. That is its scientific name. I gave it that name because I discovered it, so I get to name it, and its wings are a pretty green color, just like Vanessa's hair. It is a type of dung beetle, and I have seen it a couple of times in pegasus dung, though this is the first time I have seen it alighted upon the grass like this."

Lute spoke all of this quickly and excitedly, all while keeping her eyes firmly locked on the beetle. "Do you really think it is pretty?" she asked suddenly. "In my experience, many people do not like insects, so I was very happy when Vanessa saw it and thought it was pretty. But I guess since you are her sister, maybe you both share opinions on insects. I do not have any siblings."

"She named a dung beetle after Vanessa?" Syrene thought. But listening to the excitement in Lute's voice as she described the beetle (and she was still describing it as Syrene was thinking all of this) Syrene could tell that naming the beetle after Vanessa was done with only good intentions, as odd a "gift" as it was.

"...not sure what it might eat in the winter, although, if it is similar to other dung beetles..." Lute was still talking about the beetle.

Syrene felt bad for interrupting, "Um, Lute, thanks for talking with me, but I think your unit is marching out soon, so I don't want to take up too much of your time. Please keep looking out for my sister, and be careful out there yourself!"

Lute finally broke her gaze from the beetle and looked at Syrene. She smiled slightly, the first time Syrene had seen that, and said, "Ok, I will. Thank you..."

Syrene heard the pause in her speech. "Syrene" she interjected.

"Thank you, Syrene. I will be careful, and I will make sure Vanessa is safe."

Syrene started to return to her own battalion and left Lute to prepare (though she wasn't preparing, she was now crouched by the beetle and sketching something in her book, like she was on a picnic, not at war!)

Vanessa had made an interesting choice of a friend, but, well, at least this Lute girl did seem to be genuine. Syrene felt somewhat relieved, though she still had some questions...

Next time: Sweet, sweet egg exp

[didiwaffles]

good lore, good lore.. i absolutely adore multiverses and immortals having arguments that last millions of years! this is so awesome

now that i know who devi is, i want to circle back and ask a bit more about eva

what were her lives before rebirth? how was she even made? what powers did she have?

thanks you for answering my silly questions about your characters 🙏

- void anon

It's such a pleasure to me I can do it all day if you let me

Actually, we do not need to circle back for that, we can just move forward from where I stopped the last time. Before we move on to Eva, I need to establish a few things that led to her birth.

There's a few things that happened in about a few hundred thousands to a million of years between the moment the Monster was sealed and when Devi left Afiar.

As I mentioned, she created 5 Elemental Spirits who went on to restore the world.

Amenir - the Spirit of Air - created a flying castle made of air for Devi.

Devi resqued Emi - a girl who lost everyone she ever knew as well as everyone of her race to the Monster's awakening.

Next few hundred years Emi spent in a hybernation, after which she went on to restore her kind and with time created an army of soldiers devoted to serving Devi. (Not like Devi was a huge fan of that at first, but she let Emi and the others do whatever they wanted.)

Devi made continuous efforts to change Darinir's mind about herself, but it was in vain.

Whenever she could, she spent her time helping people in need, protecting the weak, and fighting off anyone who posed a threat.

The rest of the time she spent on her own, with time creating two other Spirits - Rudy (the Spirit of Time - or rather a tiny fluffy fox squirrel) and Nirali (the Spirit of Art and everything that falls under the category of talent and inspiration) to keep her company. They will become the closest to her, and will remain by her side even when she will have many other friends in the future.

With time, Devi became quite bored of this routine. So she thought of something fun to do. Since she didn't remember ever having a childhood, she wanted to experience that for herself. She didn't consult anyone on that - not her mother, not her enemies, not her children. She just put Emi before the fact - she was going to be reborn as a human child in some other world. She took Nirali with her, merging their souls together so she'd always be by Devi's side, while left Rudy behind. It wasn't meant to take long. After all she intended to come back once she was 20 or something.

Thousands of years passed. She never returned. Everyone looked for her, but she was nowhere to be found.

Obviously something went wrong.

In the preparation to be reborn, Devi left her body and her soul traveled around the universe, in search of a good place to reborn in. Now, remember I mentioned that a piece of Afiar that flew out when the Monster awakened would form into a separate world that would go on to create an anomaly zone? Devi accidentally flew by and got caught up in it. It did quite a few things.

First, it suppressed her power. She was no longer in control of what was happening.

Then, when she was trying to fight it, her mind fractured and split her personality into 3 parts. One was the "Devi of Light" (I'm using such a wording intentionally, she's not the "good" and the other one is not the "bad" Devi, that matters), Rodari, who inherited Devi's wings, which became white with her. The other one was the "Devi of Darkness", Diano, who took the crack from Devi's eye. The third one was Devi herself, what was left of her.

As the result, she lost her memories once again.

As she was reborn, luckily to Devi, everyone inside of her - Diano, Rodari, the Monster, and even Nirali - were put into slumber. Nirali would wake up rather quickly though, but would realize she's trapped inside of Devi's mind, who didn't remember anything and was just like an actual human child.

As Devi grew up, she would often end up creating fantasies in her head. Between toxic family relationships, having no friends, and stressful school stuff, it was her only gateway. There was only one problem. The anomaly did drain all the magic it came in contact with, but what it also did was it made the fantasy of people inside the world affect the rest of the universe. Characters from the books were coming alive in a newly born world somewhere far away, far from the reach of its creator. But that was even more true for Devi. Because even though she lost her memory, she didn't lose her power, and even though it was constantly drained, that wasn't enough to rid of it completely. And the fact that Devi didn't know it existed didn't mean she wasn't using it unconsciously. So, unbeknownst to her, her fantasies were affecting the entire universe. Everything she were thinking about was coming true outside the anomaly. And not only did she affect the future, she also affected the past. She created the fates of people... who she already met. But she didn't remember them. I'm talking about Ula and Lana. She crafted a story of their lives... that she already knew. Just didn't remember. But those two weren't the only ones. There were 7 people she affected directly, and many more - indirectly. One of those 7 was Riam.

I already went on a big enough of a tangent, so I will skip laying out Devi and Riam's relationship. What matters is Devi heavily influenced his very existence, but some stuff remain hidden even from her. Eventually, she got caught up in her own fantasies so badly, that she completely fell in love with her own mind's creation - that is to say, Riam. So one evening when she was especially lonely, she unconsciously completely overpowered the anomaly and just teleported Riam to herself.

Again I will not go into the details of their relationships now, what matters is they fell in love, and after figuring out that finding out how to get out of the world they both ended in might take a bit, they eventually married. And during their honeymoon, Devi got pregnant.

That's how Eva was born.

Now, I will shift to her story.

When Eva was born, Nirali - who was practically her older sister - planted a kiss on her forehead. Being the Spirit, what that did was it blessed Eva with extraordinary talent. Combined with her father's genes, Eva developed extremely quickly. By one year old she could already read with no problems, and by three she could solve simple math problems. When she went to school, she was far ahead of her peers, and what ended up happening is that she would be let to do whatever she wanted in class, as long as she aced all her tests. And of course she did. Devi also made sure Eva had several tutors who would teach her in accordance to her level of development. Once Eva was a bit older, she agreed that it was better than shoving her in the higher grades with more grown up kids or depriving her of socialization by tutoring her at home. As for changing schools into a more advanced one, Devi debated doing that... But there was one slight problem with that.

When Eva was 6, she got two twin little brothers.

As they were growing up, they looked and acted absolutely identical to each other. Even their own parents couldn't tell them apart when they were in matching closes. For some reason, Eva was the only one who could always tell them apart. Consequentially, she was the only one that could put a stop on their twin antics.

But fast forward to the time Eva would go on to graduate. Even though no one doubted her ability to ace the final exam, that was still pretty stressful, and the stress only multiplied with what was happening at home.

After almost 20 years of searching and trying everything she could even think of, Devi finally was able to create a portal out of the world they were in. Funnily enough, it came to her in a dream. She tried her best to replicate it, but she must've messed it up in several places because the portal barely opened. But that was enough for something to grab Riam and shove him inside, after which it closed immediately. At first Devi was incredibly happy. She tried to achieve that for so long! But slowly her happiness faded as she came to the realization, "...But what about me..?"

Devi quickly spiraled down into a deep depression, and Eva had to choose between staying by her side to help her through it and preparing for her own exams, while also taking care of her brothers. But she managed through it and successfully passed her final exam. And when she came back to share the news...

Devi's pain was so unbearable that she unconsciously tore through the fabric of reality, completely overpowering the anomaly, and creating a portal. But when the answer was right before her, she hesitated. She couldn't just go in and leave her children behind. At the same time, they had their own lives and aspirations, Eva was almost an adult, with Paul and Pete already being teens. Forcing them down the path she wanted to go didn't feel right either. But they still needed to be taken care of, she couldn't just abandon them. But she couldn't stay either, not when she had that chance, she would go on to regret it for the rest of her life.

That's where Eva found her when she returned home. And she didn't need any words to understand what was going on. Then, she encouraged Devi to leave them and go, promising that she'll take care of the boys, and when they will be ready, they will somehow find a way to find her. She didn't really think that far ahead, she just knew that if her mom stayed, she'd be deeply unhappy. Devi didn't have time to think for too long, and just before the portal closed, she went into it.

But the task that Eva assumed upon herself was not an easy one. By then, the twins who used to be indistinguishable started showing signs of separating into two completely different people, and losing both of their parents made them develop completely different personalities.

Much like Eva, Paul understood mother's decision. He trusted both Devi and Eva with their decisions. But Pete... He didn't take it well at all. He was angry. Angry that his parents abandoned him, and he vented his frustration on none other than Eva. He criticized her cooking, comparing to how Devi used to do it, he criticized her for not having a job, despite them not having problems with money, criticized her for not cleaning the house. Eva understood his frustration so she didn't stop him, but Paul wasn't taking that, and the two of them were constantly fighting over everything now. But Paul understood that Eva also wasn't all that happy that Devi left, and with the university she just got in on top of that, the last thing she needed was chores and quarrels at home. He tried to do everything he could, but Pete was just making everything more difficult than it needed to be.

That went on until both boys hit 15. By then, both of them knew what they wanted to do in life. Pete has decided to be a professional musician, and as soon as he could, he left to study in the music college, making sure he let it be known that he doesn't want anything to do with his family anymore. By that time Eva went on to study for her future master's degree in chemistry. As for Paul, he had an obsession of his own. All he wanted was to protect Eva. So he went on his own path, going to the military academy.

Now that I laid out the kinda dynamic the three have and what they've been doing with their lives, I'll quickly go through the rest that happened there.

Eva graduated with the master's degree in chemistry, and went on to own her own lab where she started working on finding something that could create a portal so they could reunite with their parents.

Paul graduated the college and went on to serve in the military.

After that he went on to the military university and studied there in the air force department.

Sometimes they would do street patrols, and in one of such days Paul happened to pass by Eva's lab. He immediately noticed something was wrong. By a pure coincidence, exactly at the time he was passing through there, something went array in the lab, and just a moment after Paul thought something was off, there was a massive explosion. Eva was inside.

By an order of their captain, cadets helped evacuate people, but Paul was concerned since he couldn't find Eva. Eventually the fire got too strong, and Paul disobeyed orders completely and went inside.

Eva made sure everyone was evacuated, but by that time she inhaled too much toxins and passed out in the fire. Paul got to her in time to grab her and jump out of the window before there was another massive explosion that would've killed them both.

They both were sent to ER. Paul suffered from mild intoxication, light burns, and he also sprained his ankle when landing. Eva suffered much more heavily. She fell into a coma.

For more than a year Eva remained unconscious, and Paul made sure to stay by her side at all cost. His studying was paused for as long as he needed. Eventually, Eva woke up. Paul held a huge grudge against Pete for not showing up even once.

Paul would go on to finish the university, and Eva continued working on her research. They barely saw each other, and as soon as Paul graduated he was mobilized as a war broke right about that time.

He went on to pilot a fighter jet on the front lines, and nearly died. His body was never found, and he was declared missing.

Eva was going crazy worrying about him, while Pete as always showed miracles of compassion and care, just shy of celebrating his brother's death.

Paul survived though and returned home on his own two. He would be later awarded a medal since his feat practically turned the tide of the war.

Once the war was over, Paul didn't retire, instead he went on to be Eva's personal bodyguard. He ensured the lab's safety and protected her when she was awarded for her achievements in the field of chemistry.

Eventually, she achieved her goal. She created an essence that could turn a mirror into a portal. She couldn't control the destination, but it could bypass the anomaly's borders, and they could figure it out from there. Pete refused to go with them, but Eva left an extra bottle of that essence for him if he ever changed his mind.

From then on, Eva and Paul quickly reunited with Devi, and found out it's been many thousand years for her. At that point in time, Devi still hadn't recovered her memory, but she was already pretty strong.

A whole new world was open before them. For Paul it was simple - she went wherever Eva went. And Eva went everywhere - she wanted to try everything. Eventually she settled on two things. First, she became a succubus. And second, she became obsessed with fighting. She used to fight as a child, and seeing her mom being strong and beautiful, she wanted to be just as strong as her.

Eva made good progress, quickly becoming third strongest person in the universe - right after her parents (though it's questionable who made that list to begin with.) And then it happened.

As I mentioned before, Devi had a lot on her shoulders. Not remembering her past, she already defeated one enemy, and another one showed up right after, and she didn't even know why they were so determined to kill her. The truth was those two were sent after her... by her own mother.

Anorava gave them a fraction of her power and wanted one thing in exchange - find Devi and do anything they had to but restore her memories. But Darkness was a wicked power, and given to those who were too weak, it corrupted their minds. And Alphonse completely forgot what was the reason he was fighting Devi - but unable to overpower her it seeded a deep hatred for her in his heart.

Alas, Devi was oblivious to this. She was just tired. She already suffered one heartbreak, and another one that shattered her soul in pieces completely, and she barely was able to recover. She thought that if Alphonse was so determined to kill her then if she died he'll rest easy. So she left the protection of the universe to Eva, and went to Heavens.

First of all, she got bored really quickly there. She did have her rest, but quickly realized that she would absolutely dread spending an eternity there.

But that was the least of her problems. Because there was someone who really didn't like her being dead, aside from her friends.

Eva thought she was ready to face any opponent, but she was absolutely unprepared for how wicked and insane Alphonse was. He didn't want Devi dead. No, he wanted to kill her. And surely Devi will come back if he hurts something really precious to her. And he knew nothing was more precious to her than her family.

All he did was he burned Eva's eyes out. Completely. Along with her eyelids. The pain was so agonizing that Eva's own scream ruptured her eardrums, and after a while she lost her voice too. She would regain her voice eventually, but never - ears and eyes. And as if that wasn't enough, he branded Eva's soul. That way, even if she somehow managed to restore her eyes, she was destined to lose them. Again, and again, and again. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she could return her speech, even her ears - with enough miracle - but never her eyes. Not for long at least.

To say that Devi was mad - to say nothing. She was furious, and also hurt. She would never stop blaming herself for what happened to Eva. And she was incredibly angry. Alphonse achieved his goal - Devi returned to the world of the living. But contrary to his expectations she didn't go on to fight him - first thing she did was making sure Eva wasn't going to do anything to herself.

When all that happened, Eva was left completely alone in the darkness. Saw nothing, heard nothing, only felt pain. Wanted to cry but tears wouldn't come out. She even forgot there was an enemy in front of her - not like he cared about her at all.

But soon enough she felt first touch. Someone grabbed her by the shoulders and slightly shook. She instinctively recoiled, and the touch stopped. Recognized it clearly wasn't an enemy, she reached forward and grabbed the shirt. Big warm hand gently laid over her hand. She skimmed through everyone she knew to figure out who that hand belong to. Figured out it can't be anyone but Paul, she relaxed.

Only when she lost her most important senses did she truly come to appreciate how much Paul cared about her. He carried her home, treated her injuries, applied bandages, and held her hand as she fell asleep. In the situation where she lost everything - he was the sunshine in the complete darkness that she needed to not give up completely. And then Devi came right into her mind, making her feel like the world around her still existed, like it was not all destroyed when she lost her senses.

Devi made sure Eva was still mentally stable, and went on helping her learn how to stop relying on her eyes and ears to live. Not like Devi knew how to. She had to bullshit her way through it, learning herself as she went. Because she knew that if she doesn't, she might lose Eva.

Thanks to her efforts, pretty quickly Eva became much more aware of her surroundings. She became more sensitive to smells, vibrations, and touch. The latter was also making her feel pain more strongly. Her voice slowly returned, a bit hoarse, but she could speak, though couldn't hear herself. Gradually she learned to identify the energy flow around her and translate it into a complete picture inside her head. And in next millions of years of practice she would even go as far as to be able to decipher the sound vibrations and understand speech without actually hearing it. Being forced in such a situation made her a true master of "seeing without eyes, hearing without ears", even Devi could not reach her level of mastery.

Devi tried everything she could to return Eva's eyes and ears. And if with ears it went well, Eva always lost her eyes, one way or another, no matter what, and then always decided to rid of ears to, just because she was used to get by without both. But no matter how much times she said that that's how she prefers it, deep inside she knew she wanted to be able to see. Even if the truth was that without eyes and ears she was stronger than with them, she was willing to trade that for the ability to see her mother, her brother... and of course, her son.

But that was not all. Because even after Alphonse was defeated and gone seemingly forever, he kept living in Devi's, and especially so in Eva's nightmares.

[davekitties]

oops I got high and rambled about gender my b

ironic that I only wear black (mainly) and my top 3 favorite pokemon are sylveon, skitty, and shiny virizion. the color pink, a longstanding enemy of mine, yet I still have a rather soft spot for it. to me, pink is defiant, but idk if others see it that way. a color chosen to represent women in today's society, scorn upon those who wear it "wrong," praise to those who do it "right." growing up, I always hated pink: it represented everything I never wanted to be. I never wanted to be a home maker and cook and clean and also work 40+ hours a week and take care of children. this terrified me as a child, and I grew to detest anything that would link me and femininity, ie., the color pink. I can't explain the rage my mother unleashed upon finding all the baby dolls I hadn't been playing with under my bed (re: at least a dozen). there were also unopened barbies and other baby/doll related toys and my mom grabbed one she'd gotten me recently and said, angrily, "come on, we are going to Walmart to exchange this for something you'd actually want." I, naively believed that I had finally gotten it to her, as I clutched my new giant stuffed orca plush I had found on clearance for $9 (she had spent like $40 on the gift we returned and I told her to keep the rest to make her feel better). but it was just one battle in the war to "make me a woman," something I never wanted to be.

eventually I would end up conforming to their ideals and standards (loosely) of how I was "supposed" to act and behave. I was too broken down, depressed, and tired of fighting. it was easier (on the surface level) to conform than it was to continue to fight. even still, though I tried my hardest to fill this role imposed upon me, I still loathed pink. anything but pink. pink was the personification of womanhood and why I hated living my life like this.

I was 17 when I first heard the term transgender. at first, I didn't get it (I'm a little dense sometimes), but then I kept reading the definition on that computer in the GT room that was being used to host the first ever meeting of the school's first ever GSA club. when I thought I finally understood it, my first thought was "yeah, makes sense," and then I moved on. I liked my skirts and my dresses, I liked to put on makeup every day, I liked to cook dinner every night, I didn't mind bending over backwards for everyone in my life.

when I was 19, it was a like a slap in the face one day. talking with a friend, it finally dawned upon me I didn't have to do this; I didn't have to *be* like this. I was... distraught, to say the least. a lot of things clicked into place for me (being a "tomboy," not liking "girly" toys or shows, always wearing "boys" clothes, having the feeling like there's something missing), and it *hurt*. what do you *mean* that I don't have be a woman if I don't want to be? this thought kept running through my head, along with the anger of everyone who forced me into being more feminine than I ever wanted to be.

I wanted to scream. I was so angry that it took 19 years of my life to find out that I didn't have to be a woman, that I could be literally *anything* else. it wasn't pink's fault. pink was whay I imagined was oppressing me, but it wasn't a simple color, it was society at large.

I'm older now, not as angry any more, but still sad. its not good to imagine how your life would have turned out if you had known information sooner, there's no use in speculating. I am what I am, neither man nor woman, and it's because of that that I feel comfortable enough to embrace pink again. pink has been a constant throughout my life, and I kind of hope that never goes away.

[thebestieyoureinlovewith]

okay, so my original story is still kind of in the planning stages, but i would love to tell you about my three unlikely besties who are the main characters !!

first we have lysie, my non-binary pirate child whose perspective the story is from. they’re the child of a very famous pirate captain who is feared across all three seas in the land, and so they’ve spent pretty much their whole life on the water training to take over their mother’s ship. they’re a total badass when it comes to all kinds of weapons and fighting, but they’re very socially awkward. when their mom and her entire crew are kidnapped by an evil mage who was thought to have been killed a hundred years ago and has suddenly returned, they make it their mission to defeat the bastard and save their mother and crew… even if it means teaming up with a siren, a member of a species their mother always told them were evil and the natural enemy of pirates.

next we have said siren whom lysie is reluctant to team up with, xella. she saves lysie from drowning when they’re swimming to try and save their mother when she’s first taken, and even though lysie takes it as an attack and almost immediately tries to kill her, she still tells lysie what’s needed to defeat the evil mage and save their mother and crew and offers her help. her siren pod has a special grudge against the mage from when he was wrecking havoc a hundred years ago, and xella, who’s always been something of a disappointment to her family, thinks that if she can help defeat him then she’ll be able to gain her pod’s respect. since sirens can use their magic to change into ( mostly ) human forms, xella and lysie’s first stop is to go back to the town lysie’s crew was docked in when they were taken to steal a ship and supplies, which is where they find the third member of their little ragtag crew !!

now, sagran is my little aro-ace twink of a fire mage, and the third member of lysie’s world-saving crew. he’s actually the great-grandson of the mage who defeated the story’s big bad a hundred years ago, but his family has long since gone broke and fallen from grace, which is why he’s living in the tiny harbor town where he runs into lysie and xella and has only enough magic training to not start a fire every time he gets overwhelmed, since there’s no magic training school in the town like there is in bigger cities. as you can imagine, he as a fire mage is not very happy to have to do this whole adventure on a ship and venture into the sirens’ underwater capital kingdom, but he’s desperate to restore his family’s reputation and hopefully even earn a job as a mage in the human kingdom’s capital, so he puts up with the dampening of his powers that comes from being surrounded by water - plus, he’s pretty sure he’s starting to become friends with this scowly pirate and siren who has very little idea about human customs.

and that’s my three main babies !! they definitely become their own little found family, and lysie and xella also eventually become a really cute nblw couple 🥰 again, the story isn’t all the way planned out yet, but i’m still totally up for questions about these three babies !! <3

Oh my gosh I love them!!! Xella wanting respect and not having it reminds me a little bit of Amali, who is incredibly skilled yet treated badly and like and outsider by the people in the rebellion.

Sagran is the greatest name ever I love it, and he's very brave for going under water being a fire mage.

Aaaaahhhh I love Lysie!! They just wanna save their mom and crew...I totally vibe with that!

Thank you for sharing!!! I'll be shooting some asks about them soon!!