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ineffable-endearments · 2 months

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The Crow Road by Iain Banks

I finished The Crow Road and had a little time to think about it. I'll put my thoughts under a Keep Reading in case anyone is trying to avoid spoilers.

As I speculated before, I think it's likely that The Crow Road is more related to Good Omens in philosophy than in plot. I mean, it's not that the plots necessarily have nothing in common, and we could be very surprised in the end of course, but now that I've read the whole book, its philosophical commonalities with GO are both apparent and kind of inspiring. Also, if I were a writer, I'd be more interested in dropping hints about what themes are important than telegraphing my whole plot ahead of time.

So here, I will describe the book and point out themes that I believe may reappear in Good Omens 3.

This is a long post. If you read it, make a cup of [beverage of choice].

Update on 4/20/2024: I made a second post: The Crow Road and Good Omens: Further-Out Thoughts

Below are mentions of suicide, death/murder, and sexual acts.

The Crow Road centers around a character named Prentice McHoan, a university student in Scotland who starts to sort out his complicated relationship with his complicated family as he explores the mystery of his uncle Rory's disappearance. Although the book is mostly from Prentice's perspective, the narration jumps around in time with the McHoan family. There are quite a lot of important characters to keep track of; the bare-bones summary I put below doesn't even include some of the important ones. I wanted to make the summary even shorter and simpler than this, but the truth is that this book is not short or simple, and if I made the summary any simpler, it might be downright misleading.

There are at least three major cultural aspects of The Crow Road that I am inexperienced with: the overall culture in the 1950s-1980s (I was born in 1988, so of course wasn't here for the relevant decades), the international experience of the Gulf War (again, born in 1988), and the history and culture of Scotland itself (I'm USAmerican with only reading as a source). As a result, I'm sure there are important dimensions to the book that I've missed. If someone has a different perspective taking some of these things into account, I'd love to know about it.

Also, keep in mind, there is a great deal of descriptive writing in this book. There are a lot of pages about the geography of Scotland, and about Prentice as a kid, and about Prentice's father and uncles hanging out together in their youth, and about various family incidents, and about Prentice spending time with his brothers and friends. At first, these passages seem to just make things more confusing, and in my head, I accused them of being "filler." But they definitely serve a purpose. They're a way of showing and not telling the characters' attitudes and relationships to each other. More importantly, because we get to actually live these experiences with the characters, they are what give all the plot points below their deeper emotional impacts. In other words, the everyday experiences give the plot its deeper meaning. They resonate with one of the core themes in the novel: that our experiences in life, rather than any supposed existence after death, are what matters.

The Crow Road's story is like this:

Prentice is rather directionless in life, and he seems to have trouble investing any energy in his own future as he moons over his unrequited feelings for an idealized young woman named Verity. Soon, Verity ends up in a romance with Prentice's brother, Lewis, and Prentice feels that Lewis "stole" her from him. Prentice has also become estranged from his father, Kenneth, over spirituality. Prentice believes there has to be something more after death because he feels it would be incredibly unfair if people didn't get anything other than this one life; Kenneth is not only a passionate atheist, but is offended by the notion of an afterlife.

Prentice's uncle Hamish, Kenneth's brother, has always been religious, although his religion involves a number of bizarre and offbeat ideas of his own, with inspiration from more traditional Christian notions. Prentice is not really sure about this ideology, but he's willing to talk to Hamish about it and even participates during Hamish's prayers, whereas Kenneth is openly scornful of Hamish's beliefs. Hamish interprets this as Prentice being on "his side."

Prentice has a few opportunities to go back and talk to his father, and is begged to do so by his mom, Mary, with whom his relationship is still good. Mary doesn't want either of the men to give up their inner ideas about the universe; she just wants them to agree to disagree and move on as a family. Prentice says he will visit, but he just keeps putting it off and off and off.

Prentice acquires a folder containing some of his missing uncle Rory's notes in the process of hooking up with Rory's former girlfriend, Janice Rae, who seems to have taken a shine to Prentice because he reminds her of Rory. Using the contents of the folder, Prentice wants to piece together the great literary work that Rory left unfinished, which Rory titled Crow Road; however, it becomes apparent that Rory didn't turn his concepts into anything substantial and only had a bunch of disconnected notes and ideas. He hadn't even decided whether Crow Road would be a novel, a play, or something else. The few bits of Rory's poetry for Crow Road read are bleak and depressing.

Prentice also spends a lot of time with a young woman named Ash. They've been good friends since childhood and seem to have a somewhat flirtatious dynamic now, but they aren't in a romantic relationship; mostly, they drink and hang out together. Ash tells Prentice bluntly to get his life back on track when she finds out he's failing at school, avoiding his family, and engaging in shoplifting. She is a voice of reason, and when Prentice insists to her that he's just a failure, she reminds him that actually, he's just a kid.

Prentice's efforts to figure out Rory's story or location stagnate, and he continues to fail at school and avoid his father. He then receives word that Kenneth was killed while debating faith with Hamish. In fact, Kenneth dies after a fall from a church lightning rod, which he was climbing in an act of defiance against Hamish's philosophy when it was struck by lightning; Hamish is convinced that Kenneth had incurred God's wrath. Ash is there for support when Prentice finds out about the death.

With Ash's help, Prentice returns to his hometown again to help manage Kenneth's affairs. Prentice speaks with a very shaken Hamish, who is handling Kenneth's death with extreme drama and making it all about his own feelings. Hamish tells Prentice that Kenneth was jealous that Prentice shared more in common with Hamish's faith than with Kenneth's lack of faith. However, this isn't really true, and as he contemplates his father's death, Prentice begins to internalize one of the last things Hamish reported that Kenneth had argued: "All the gods are false. Faith itself is idolatry."

As the chapters go on, Prentice is compelled by some of the meaningful items related to Rory that he discovers in his father's belongings. He gains a renewed sense of purpose trying to solve the mystery of where Rory went and what happened to him. Among the interesting items are an ancient computer disk of Rory's that Prentice can't access with any equipment he can find; Ash uses her connections in the US and Canada to find a computer expert who can finally open the files on it. This takes quite a while, since the disk has to be mailed and Ash's connection is investigating the disk only in his free time.

Prentice also discovers that his feelings for Verity have changed. He no longer feels angry with Lewis for "stealing her." At first, Prentice's narration describes this as his feelings "cooling" as a result of the trauma of losing his father, but interestingly, this soon means Prentice gets to know Verity as a sister-in-law without getting caught up in jealous romantic feelings. Verity gets along well with the family, and Prentice is actually happy to discover that she and Lewis have a baby on the way. Prentice's relationship with Lewis improves greatly as well, partly because he is no longer jealous and partly because he realizes he does not want to lose Lewis, too.

Ash's connection who was looking at Rory's computer disk comes through and sends the printed contents of the files to Prentice. The files reveal to him that Rory likely knew Prentice's uncle, Fergus, murdered his wife by unbuckling her seat belt and crashing their car. Rory had written out a fictional version of events and considered using it in Crow Road. I'm not clear on exactly how certain Rory was about Fergus's crime, or whether Rory would have intentionally reported Ferg, or whether Rory even had enough proof to publicly accuse Ferg of murder, but people would likely have connected the dots in Rory's work and become suspicious of Ferg. For this reason, Prentice believes Ferg murdered Rory as well.

Prentice confronts Ferg. He doesn't get a confession and leaves Ferg's home with no concrete proof of anything; Ferg denies it all. But Prentice is soon physically assaulted in the night, and it seems Ferg was almost certainly the culprit, because he hadn't been home that same night, and he had injuries (probably from being fought off) the next day. A day or two later, Ferg's body is found unconscious in the cockpit of a plane, which crashes into the ocean. It's uncertain whether this was a suicide, but Prentice suspects it was. Rory's body is then soon recovered from the bottom of a waterway near Prentice's home, where Ferg had sunk it years ago.

As the mysteries are solved, Prentice realizes his feelings for Ash are romantic love. However, it's too late, he thinks, because Ash is about to take a job in Canada, where she may or may not stay. Prentice also hesitates to approach her because he's embarrassed about his previous behavior, venting all his angst about Verity and his father. He isn't sure she would even want to be in a relationship with him after that. But the very night before Ash leaves, she kisses Prentice on the cheek, which leads to a deeper kiss. They finally connect, have sex, and confess their mutual feelings. Ash still goes to her job in Canada, but says she'll come back when Prentice is done with his studies that summer.

The relationship's future is somewhat uncertain because something could come up while Ash is in Canada, but Prentice is hopeful. The book ends with Prentice getting ready to graduate with his grades on track as a history scholar, fully renouncing his belief in an afterlife while he acknowledges the inherent importance of our experiences in our lives now, and enjoying his time with Lewis and Verity and his other family members.

What's the point of all these hundreds of pages?

Well, look at all of the above; there's definitely more than one point. But the main point I took away is that we get this one life, with our loved ones in this world here and now, and this is where we make our meanings. There is no other meaning, but that doesn't mean there's no meaning at all. It means the meaning is here.

It's not death that gives life its meaning. It's the things we do while alive that give life its deeper meaning.

The Crow Road is described (on Wikipedia) as a Bildungsroman, a story focusing on the moral and philosophical growth and change of its main character as they transition from childhood to adulthood ("coming-of-age novel" is a similar term that is interchangeable, but more vague and not necessarily focused on morality/philosophy). And, indeed, all of the plots ultimately tie into Prentice's changed philosophy.

After his argument with Kenneth, Prentice feels childish and humiliated, and as a result, he refuses to go back home, which leads to a spiral of shame and depression. Kenneth dies and Prentice realizes it's too late to repair the relationship, which also leads him to realize it's what we do in life that matters, and that therefore, his father's argument was correct after all.

At the end of the novel, Prentice outright describes his new philosophy. However, I can't recall one specific passage where Prentice describes the process of how he changed his mind (if anyone else can remember something I missed, do let me know). There is, however, a moment when his narration indicates that Hamish seems less disturbed by his own part in the incident that led to Kenneth's death and more disturbed by the notion that his beliefs might actually be true: there might actually be an angry, vengeful God. In other words, Hamish's philosophy is selfish at its core.

My interpretation is that when his father died, Prentice realized three things: how utterly self-serving Hamish's devout faith is, how Kenneth's untimely death proves the importance of working things out now rather than in an imaginary afterlife, and how much profound meaning Kenneth had left behind despite having no faith at all. After these realizations, a determined belief in an afterlife no longer makes our lives here more profound like Prentice once thought it did.

Also, it's worth noting that this incident changes Prentice's idea of partnership, too. He loses interest in this distant, idealized woman he's been after. In love as in the rest of life, Prentice lets go of his ideals, and in doing so, he makes room for true meaning, both in a sincere familial, platonic connection with Verity and a sincere intimate, romantic connection with Ash.

But what about the sex scene?!

Yes, indeed, at the tail end of the story, Prentice and Ash have sex and admit they want to be in a relationship together. Prentice's narration describes them sleeping together and having intercourse not just once, but many times, including some slow and relaxed couplings during which they flex the muscles in their private parts to spell out "I.L.Y." and "I.L.Y.T." to each other in Morse code. This is relevant because earlier, they had been surprised and delighted to discover that they both knew Morse code; it isn't a detail that came from nowhere.

I didn't get the impression that this scene was trying to be especially titillating to the reader. It was mostly just a list of stuff the characters did together. I felt the point was that they were still anxious about being emotionally honest, a little desperate to convey their feelings without having to speak them out loud, and awkward in a way that made it obvious that their primary concern was the feelings, not the sexual performance. They cared about each other, but they weren't trying to be impressive or put on a show; contrast this with previous scenes where Prentice would act like a clown in front of Ash to diffuse his own anxiety. I've always thought that being able to have awkward sex and still enjoy it is a good sign.

Okay, so what does this all have to do with Good Omens?

Here's where I have to get especially interpretive. I'm doing my best, but of course, not everyone reading this will have the same perspective on Good Omens, the Final Fifteen especially. I believe similar themes are going to resonate between The Crow Road and Good Omens regardless of our particular interpretations of the characters' behavior and motivations, but I suppose it could hit differently for some people.

The TL;DR: I see similar themes between The Crow Road and Good Omens in:

The importance of mortal life on Earth

Meaning (or purpose) as something that we create as we live, not something that is handed to us by a supreme being

Sincere connection and love/passion (for people, causes, arts, life's work, etc) as a type of meaning/purpose

Relationships as reflections of philosophy

The dual nature of humanity

Life on Earth as the important part of existence is a core theme in Good Omens, and has been since the very beginning. We all already know Adam chose to preserve the world as it already is because he figured this out, and we all already know Aziraphale and Crowley have been shaped for the better by their experiences on Earth. But Good Omens isn't done with this theme by a long shot. I think this is the most important thematic commonality Good Omens will have with The Crow Road. Closely related is the notion that we create our meanings as we live, rather than having them handed to us. Isn't this, in a way, what Aziraphale struggles with in A Companion to Owls? He's been given this meaning, this identity, that doesn't fit him. But does he have anything else to be? Not yet.

Partnerships as a parallel to the characters' philosophical development also resonates as a commonality that The Crow Road may have with Good Omens. Prentice's obsession with Verity goes away when he starts to embrace the importance of life on Earth and makes room for his sincere relationship with Ash. Note their names: "Verity" is truth, an ideal Prentice's father instills in him; "Ashley" means "dweller in the ash tree meadow" in Anglo-Saxon, according to Wikipedia, and "ash" is one of the things people return to after death. Prentice literally trades his high ideals for life on Earth. We see in Aziraphale a similar tug-o'-war between Heaven's distant ideals and Crowley's Earthly pleasures, so I can see a similar process potentially playing out for him.

I don't particularly recall a ton of thematic exploration of free will in The Crow Road. However, there is a glimmer of something there: Prentice feels excessively controlled by Kenneth's desire to pass down his beliefs, and part of the reason Prentice is so resistant to change is simply his frustration with feeling censored and not being taken seriously. As the reader, I do get the feeling that while Prentice is immature, Kenneth made major mistakes in handling their conflict, too. And Kenneth's mistakes come from trying to dictate Prentice's thoughts. There is likely some crossover with Good Omens in the sense that I'm pretty sure both stories are going to take the position that people need to be allowed to make mistakes, and to do things that one perceives as mistakes, without getting written off as "stupid" or "bad" or otherwise "unworthy."

Suffice it to say that the human characters in Good Omens will also certainly play into these themes, but it's hard to write about them when we don't know much about them except that one of them is almost certainly the reincarnation of Jesus. This also makes me suspect perhaps the human cast will be 100% entirely all-new, or mostly new, symbolic of how Aziraphale and Crowley have immersed themselves in the ever-evolving, ever-changing world of life on Earth. Alternatively, if we encounter human characters again from Season 1 or 2, perhaps the ways they've grown and changed will be highlighted. For example, even in real-world time, Adam and Warlock have already, as of the time I'm writing this, gone through at least one entire life stage (from 11 in 2019 to 16 in 2024). They'll be legal adults in a couple of years, and if there's a significant time skip, they could be much older. If characters from Season 1 do reappear and themes from The Crow Road are prominent, I would expect either some key scenes highlighting contrasts and changes from their younger selves or for stagnation and growth to be a central part of their plot.

The more I write, the more I just interpret everything in circles. Hopefully this post has at least given you a decent idea of what The Crow Road is like and how it may relate to Good Omens.

I'll end this post with a quotation that feels relevant:

Telling us straight or through his stories, my father taught us that there was, generally, a fire at the core of things, and that change was the only constant, and that we – like everybody else – were both the most important people in the universe, and utterly without significance, depending, and that individuals mattered before their institutions, and that people were people, much the same everywhere, and when they appeared to do things that were stupid or evil, often you hadn’t been told the whole story, but that sometimes people did behave badly, usually because some idea had taken hold of them and given them an excuse to regard other people as expendable (or bad), and that was part of who we were too, as a species, and it wasn’t always possible to know that you were right and they were wrong, but the important thing was to keep trying to find out, and always to face the truth. Because truth mattered. Iain Banks, The Crow Road

#good omens #the crow road #good omens book club #go3 speculation #s3 speculation #good omens 2 spoilers #go s2 spoilers

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yostresswritinggirl · 1 year

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That Loud House

pairings -> Alhaitham x Reader x Kaveh; poly

words -> 2,574 words

An architect, a scribe, and a prodigal drop out walked out of a house. Somehow they all fell in love, even tho they don't look like it when they're outside. (next)

As a local citizen in Sumeru City, you must have heard about that loud house in the higher levels.

Infamous for reasons already in the name, it had become a running gag, transcending the foundation of the structure to its well-known owners.

The loudness of that house wasn't anything new, but the occupants and its most recent addition made the legendary house ever so entertaining than annoying. Their names known far and wide, even touching the desert with gossip.

Out comes Alhaitham, the grand Scribe of the Akademiya holding himself to such high regard as both the lunatic and the savior of all of Sumeru.

Next leaves Kaveh with a bit more pep in his steps, so uncharacteristic of the Master Architect when he's frequently whining about his living conditions and roommate.

And last but never ever least exits you, gently closing and locking the door behind you unlike the first two to leave, rubbing at your eyes as you stumbled through the streets of the city with nothing but muscle memory guiding you.

No one knows how the relationship of that loud house came to be, only that one day, suddenly three people lived there. And those three people loved each other, expressed in some way that none of the Vahumana scholars can ever explain.

How you three came to be is a very... peculiar arrangement that people could only know if they asked. But out of your trio, only Kaveh is the approachable one, and even he didn't know the full story.

The true story of your relationship is privy to only you and Alhaitham, but the man would never entertain gossipers (for the sole reason of wanting them to overthink and hypothesize). And the two had made it very clear that they don't want you to be bothered by such trivial matters.

Foundation

No one would ever believe that Alhaitham started this complicated relationship, but he did. And no one but him and his clever brain would know how long he had planned for this.

"I see you're spacing out again," you pause in your walk as you silently watch the silver-haired Scribe make his way over. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Alhaitham." The scholar easily falls into step with you as you continued your leisurely walk, consciously adjusting your hair when you realized how well-kept next to your sleep-deprived self. "I'm fine, how about you?"

You've known the man even before he became a Scribe, even before he graduated and became your senior. How your closeness came to be is already a blur in your mind, but if there's one thing you're certain of, he at least enjoys your company.

You've bonded over collaborations for research before and after he graduated. Perhaps that's what draws him to you, he always liked and supported your ideas as much as he can even when no one does. Sadly, his work and your problems kept your interactions scarce.

"Wrong, it is actually already afternoon. Clearly, you are not fine and you can't deny it now." Oh my - you gently, slowly put your palm to your face, already so done with his antics for today.

It looks like you have a lot to catch up on since the last you talked. And Alhaitham, ever so smart, caught on with the impending long talk who proceeded to guide you to the tables outside Djafar Tavern.

When Eymen came over to take your orders, Alhaitham instead ordered for the two of you when you were about to refuse the service. Right, he's a rich guy now.

"How's your research been?" And at the sight of your sour face, he connected the dots almost immediately. "Same old?"

"Same old Akademiya. They won't fund anything that's not useful or groundbreaking, and I really liked this topic, too." And at his urging nods, you went on a tangent of the curiosities you've been hooked on for a while now, another idea he approves. "I don't understand why they are so heavily guarded with research regarding the history of the desert. I just want to learn more."

"Then leave the Akademiya." Stabbing into the Tandoori Roast Chicken a little too harshly, you looked at him with wide, incredulous eyes. "What? If the Akademiya is restricting you then you can continue your research without their laws applying to you."

Lunatic. That's just like him. Looking at you innocently with a raised brow as if he didn't just say something so out of pocket.

"You know I can't do that."

"Why not?" Bingo! That hesitant side glance confirmed his hypothesis easily, there's more than just the Akademiya that's putting circles under your eyes. Even as you occupied yourself with chewing the chicken, he kept his eyes on you like a hawk.

You sighed. "Research is my only income, unlike you, Scribe." He must be paid really well for his position, after all. "Rent in the City is also rising, I have to pay that next week, too. I'm so tired."

What is up with the people his close to and financial problems? He shakes his head. "Then drop out of the Akademiya and live with me." Unfortunately, this time he didn't care that you had chicken in your mouth. He continued while you're busy coughing your lungs out. "With my income, I'm more than glad to support your research. With this arrangement, you can focus on what you want and your health as we-"

HUH?! "Shu - fu - shut, shut up for a second." Eymen quickly came to your aid with a glass of water after seeing the commotion, but as he was about to pat your back, a stern look from your friend(?) made him think twice. "Do you even know what you're saying?"

"Yes. It's quite simple really," Alhaitham sat up straighter on his seat and uncrossed his arms. "I'll be your research support, I can even help you on them if need be, and living under my roof will remove you of financial burden.

"Deal." Eymen let out a loud 'huh?!' as he looks at you like you have a fungus head. "And I assume that you want something out of this, too?"

Nodding approvingly of your perceptive thinking, his next words both had you and Eymen reeling. "In exchange, date me and Kaveh."

... On second thought, it's not just you and Alhaitham that knows the true story.

But no one ever believes Eymen the bartender.

Surveying

Apparently, they were not in a relationship. Apparently, Kaveh doesn't even know about the terms and conditions of what transpired that day.

"Oh! Fancy meeting you here!" With the context, you awkwardly reciprocated the hug the architect greeted you with.

"You two know each other?" Alhaitham emerged from the guest room were your bags and items will be making home until this arrangement is over.

Kaveh, your Kshahrewar senior raised to the power of 2 was someone you had also collaborated with beforehand. Learning about the different periods Sumeru went through, as well as the civilizations of the other regions, the architect thought it was common sense to ask you for building inspirations.

The architecture was a part of your studies, right? Perhaps by seeing the different buildings all over Teyvat, he could infer his own design for his plates. You remember working on it for two days straight because you didn't want to disappoint him with a half-baked result, not when such a household name depended on you, a no name researcher.

"Well, that makes things easier then. They are staying with us from now on."

"They are?" The blond turns to you. "You are?!" You nod. "Oh, an angel descends from the skies to preserve my sanity in this house!"

You shake the hand offered to you, his smile brightening up more. "Let's get along, shall we?"

And get along you did. To be fair, it wasn't really that hard knowing Kaveh is Kaveh, and Alhaitham as his point of reference makes everyone look like saints.

However, being in the middle of these two also guarantees you to always be in the middle of their notorious arguing, even after you all settled into a genuine relationship.

"It's called a passion project, what is so hard to understand about that? Then again, knowing you, it wouldn't be too far fetched." Closing your eyes, the taste of the freshly cooked baklava became more apparent to your taste buds.

"It's not about whether this project is so important to you, it's the fact that it is missing a crucial factor: feasibility." Pulling the mug in your left hand, you washed down the sweetness of the pastry with slightly bitter coffee.

"What do you know about architecture to tell if it's feasible or not? You took one look at my plates and think you know better." Gulping your food, you let out a silent yawn as you tried to blink the sleepiness away.

"One look at it and I can see that you've put zero thought to the prices of the materials." What time is it? Maybe you can get some last minute nap before heading out.

"Why you -" Before you can register their morning argument subsiding, the feeling of hands on yours and your cheek jolted you awake.

"Why are you dozing off? Did you not sleep enough tonight?" As Alhaitham takes away the mug in your hand, Kaveh proceeds to wipe the pastry crumbs around your lips. Shaking your head, your blond lover moves to stand behind your chair.

"You told us you have an important errand today, you're gonna be late!" Then he starts to brush your hair back to style it as usual. Prying an eye open, you see a glimpse of Alhaitham cleaning up the table, as well as a hint of a subtle smile when his gaze caught sight of you and Kaveh.

Of course, if there's one thing that Kaveh and Alhaitham can agree on, it's their love for you. And that's honestly enough for them.

Structuring

Alhaitham viewed you as his responsibility in this symbiotic relationship, and when the time came that Kaveh settled into the arrangement, taking care of you became easier.

While it's not apparent, the Scribe hated seeing you stressed or down especially when you're susceptible to it than normal.

Things such as bills, needs, funding, rejected thesis can greatly affect your mental health greatly. And that in turn messes with the functionality of your brain, the same brain that he greatly adores. So with lesser jargon Alhaitham entrusted this information to Kaveh so that they both can look out for you when the other isn't there.

Unlike Alhaitham however, Kaveh's less used to your antics.

A shrill scream that can definitely be heard past the walls of the house made him jump and trip out of his bed, stumbling out of his room as he made a mad dash towards the room where the scream came from.

"(Y/N)?! What's wrong?!" Oh gosh, did you get hurt? Did someone break in?! Alhaitham is going to kill him for real this time!

Turning around from your spot in the middle of the living room, you pulled your hands out of your messy hair at the sight of your blond architect. "Kaveh? Oh shoot, I'm sorry did I wake you?" You thought you were alone in the house.

Shaking his head, his hands land on your shoulders to look for any signs of injuries. But no, based on the messiness of your hair, it seems more like an internal turmoil. "I heard your scream, tell me what's wrong, dear."

"Sorry, sorry, I was just really frustrated -" He needs to get you to clear your mind then, like what Alhaitham instructed- "Because of this stupid DIY miniature set."

"What?" Looking past you to the coffee table, there was the evidence of your frustrations. Cloth and wooden panels strewn about, and a mess of papers either discarded or needed littered the carpeted floor. "Why are you working on a DIY miniature house? Is that a house?"

"To destress." You raise your hands up in defense when Kaveh sent you a deadpan. "I think it's a Mondstadt style house."

"Why didn't you ask me to help then?" Forgetting his initial plan, he went on to seat on the floor and caught sight of the instructions page. Occupied with the interesting structure, you curiously sat next to him as he looked at the pieces. "I'm an architect, this is my forte!"

But... you're the one that's... trying to destress?

When Alhaitham came home, the house was suspiciously quiet despite having the lights open. Did one of you leave the main floor lights on by accident? Hanging his cape by the door, walking further into his shared home finally gave him the answer.

Cut up paper and trimmed fake plants scattered the area together with various small tools that he carefully picked up before anyone could step on it. There is a small model of what seems to be Mondstadt structure in the middle of the mess that could easily fit in his palm.

"This is what you two did the whole time?" But he expected the lack of response.

After all, as he turns towards the couch, there Kaveh laid stretched over the entire length of the long seat with his arm shielding his closed eyes. And there you lay on top, basically faceplanting the architect's chest.

Alhaitham could see the dried up clear glue on the tips of your fingertips.

His attention averts back to the miniature house. And that's when he sees it. Leaning down, the Scribe plucks up a copper wire with tiny bulbs jutting out here and there, with a switch at one end.

Oh. You two must have forgotten to add the wiring before assembling the piece and slept the frustration away.

Chuckling to himself, the man crossed his legs as he sat, picking up the discarded tweezer and glue. What would you two do without him really?

You were startled out of your shopping trip at the sound of someone screaming your name, followed by a person you've never met writing over to you. A mahamata personnel?

"We're sorry to bother you but Mr. Alhaitham and Kaveh -" Of course, it's about them.

It was a fallacy that everyone keeps committing at this point, believed in assumptions without evidence, but you followed the man to the destination to Treasures Street.

And when you stood in between the two quarreling scoundrels you call your lovers, the man who was hoping you'd stop the disturbance on peace looked confused. Of course he was.

After all, the arguments are part of the charm. Just because you came into the picture doesn't mean they'll stop in your presence, no, that's not your function in this relationship. However -

"I made progress."

"You did?! Thank goodness, I was worried you'll have to wait another day for dusk!" Kaveh flipped like a switch at the good news, eagerly suggesting to eat out for the occassion.

"Did you write it down? I wish to compare notes with my own hypothesis back home once we're done. When's the last time you hydrated?"

The public watched in confusion as the trio of lovers left the scene towards Lambad's Tavern, the argument turning into a conversation of jargons and lexicon that they can't follow.

It's always so eventful seeing the occupants of that loud house when they're together.

They just wish things were a little quieter.

Finally, the lesser organized poly series counterpart of CtM is here. Should have stuck to the headcanons format honestly but at least I know this isn't gonna be a one off thing lol

@ireallylikehamsters

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact fluff #gender neutral #exile.flower #poly kavetham #sumeru arc

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serawritesthings · 6 months

Text

AMBIVALENT MINDS

Pairing | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem! Reader Summary | There was no doubt an air of mystery surrounded Simon, and while you hadn't seen him in years, his sudden appearance rendered you shocked, to say the least. It doesn't come without complications, though, resurfacing feelings that should have been laid to rest. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, smut, angst-heavy, description of violence, very sad :D Word Count | 12k A/N | Hello once again lovelies! I have recently been working in this fic about Ghost, where I had an idea that I thought was very fitting for him. I'm so used to writing for Arthur, so I'm a bit nervous, but I thought I would challenge myself for this one! I really hope you like it, and if you do, don't hesitate to let me know. I would much appreciate it! ♡ Also, I'm still head-deep in my Arthur Morgan phase, so the next fic will probably be of him. Enjoy!

Stoic had always felt like a suitable word to describe the ghost that haunted your mind. Lacing every corner of your thoughts, he strayed, forever walking the memories of your past–unwanted and unwilling, unidentified, and under no sense of obligation to you or anyone else.

His presence had become a looming shadow, casting a heavy gloom over what you so profoundly wished to forget. No matter how hard you tried to escape those clutches, he held on too tightly, etching his essence into the fabric of your consciousness as the echoes of his footsteps reverberated through the corridors of your mind, a constant reminder of what you wished could be undone.

But it left you more unsatisfied than initially prepared for, finding the distance between you to be nauseating, like the miles only made the hurt seem to grow closer until it was seeping into your very bones. Although reality had a funny way of keeping up with you, clouding the past in its grasp, so now, it only felt like someone else’s experience and not your own–oddly comforting and discomforting all at the same time.

Simon always seemed to have that effect on you, and it was always the most challenging part for you throughout the years you spent together. One day, you would find the rough exterior grow gentle as it warmed the harsh edges with the soft look in his consistently monotone eyes; the other day, sharp and cold orbs cut through you like a splicer–like you were a stranger.

It was hurtful and increasingly confusing, making you wonder if you had been in a one-sided relationship all this time. He kept many parts of himself a secret from you, heavily guarded behind thorny walls, as even the slightest inquiry made him shut you out completely. The struggle you went through to gain his trust was like tiptoeing through a glass field, every step bordering on agony.

He never told you where he lived, only ever sleeping at your apartment even though it was too cramped. And, as it came to his private life, he didn’t speak a word but almost knew yours entirely from the number of questions he asked and your willingness to keep talking the moment you got started.

Funny that his nickname spoke so well with his aura, for that was exactly how you had perceived him now that you had a clear look at him that wasn’t shrouded with love and admiration. In reality, you didn’t know who he was under all those layers and cautious ways, your conversations made up of carefully guarded expressions and chosen words, the depth of emotions often hidden behind a veil of protection.

Somehow, he had felt, well, real? More real than the faked chivalry you were so used to when you were brought up, parents having more wealth than you deemed necessary amidst their strive towards perfection. Compared to their stale kindness and expectations, Simon was a welcomed change, as exciting as he was human.

For a younger you, he was fascinating and shrouded in a prolonged mystery you begged him to tell you. But he never did, always preaching about the unsafety of his life and no less job, that you were better left unknowing–for your sake. So curious and unbelievably stupid you were at the time, not realizing the danger that surrounded Simon and how it could affect you.

You understood him, though, and you did for a long time, but for obvious reasons, it grew exhausting to harbor a love for a man like that. You were young and naïve, only surpassing your early twenties that were spent on edge with an older man you weren’t sure could love anyone, no less himself.

In the shadow of your own accord, the best years of your life passed away, and through long days of studying for your medical degree and battling the struggles of barely seeing him–wondering where he was most of the time–you set your sight on other things, naturally.

For this reason, you always reminded yourself that he couldn’t be loved because he didn’t want to. The thought bruised you because for the longest time, you couldn’t imagine being without him. Thank God that time heals wounds, for the thought grew dim; despite his looming presence, you couldn’t shake from your mind, even though you tried your damnedest.

“I wonder where you went just now, missus.” The warm tone of Gretel filled your ears comfortingly as it cut through the obnoxious clicking of the pen you tormented anxiously. Stopping abruptly, you glanced at the woman writing in a patience journal, focused but somehow acutely aware of your absent-mindedness.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke quietly, the luminescent light flickering above you as you straightened your back, getting ready to continue your work. “Just stuck in my thoughts…” You trailed off with a sigh, avoiding her questioning gaze as she peered at you over the bundle of paper.

Although a sharp and hardworking lady, Gretel had a knack for seeing straight through you. It was a shame since you always prided yourself on your ability to stay undecipherable, a thing you learned after the heavy supervision you had been under when you were younger.

You could almost swear she was psychic, for she always had this look in her eyes, like every thought that passed through your mind was the most obvious thing in the world, and you felt just as ashamed every time you thought something filthy in her presence.

“Hmm, I know that look, dear. Why don’t you finish up and go home? Rest your mind for a while. Lord knows we have a lot of work to get done tomorrow now that the doctors have been slacking off lately,” she hummed unamused at the last statement, turning back to the endless words loitering the pages, glasses hanging low on her nose.

“Oh, you sure?” In all actuality, you weren’t interested in going home anymore. It felt too empty these days, the eeriness seeping into every corner of the house. Here, you at least had people around you every minute of the day, patient or college, and burying your head in work seemed more of an appealing way to deal with your emotions than staring endlessly into the white tapestry of your wall without a single second of sleep.

“Course I am.” Wishing you away with her hands, you glanced uncomfortably at the snow falling outside the window, hoping to stay in the hospital's warmth. But alas, you knew better than to question her, so you finished your work in silence, the loud drag of your chair notifying Gretel you were on your way.

“Any plans tonight?” She sent a mischievous look your way, expectantly. “A special someone, maybe?”

“No.” You only let out a breathy laugh, giving her a look that spoke too much of your answer. “No, I uh, I’m going to bed.” Cringing at yourself, you shut your eyes when your back was towards the inquiring woman, chastising your inability to make up a lie instead of telling her the sad truth.

“I don’t believe that, a fine woman like you staying home on a Friday night?” She put down the papers and put all her attention on you. “Blasphemy, if I’ve ever heard it.”

The corners of your mouth lifted slightly, appreciating her attempts to lift your mood. It was depressing, though; you could admit that. Earlier, you had heard both the younger and older coworkers gossip about the nightly adventures that awaited as the clock turned 5, feeling like shrinking into the floor at the lack of excitement in your life compared to theirs.

“What about that mystery man that came through here some time ago every time you got off work?” Her words made you stop in your tracks, the now remaining cold, stale coffee you were forcing down your throat spilling down the corners of your mouth, staining your shirt.

“Oh, dear, let me help you.” As the woman rushed towards you, your mind grew numb at the thought of the man you had tried so hard to push toward the back of your mind. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about him for quite a while, but Gretel’s words forced you to face the cold eyes that stared back at you in your mind, ultimately ruining your every attempt.

“Sorry, I just-” Her reprimanding voice cut your apology short.

“No need to apologize,” she shushed you, grabbing the cup from your hands before you dropped it, smiling heartily in comfort as your cheeks flushed a bright red.

You gladly left the building after your mishap, and although with a large coffee stain under your jacket to showcase your bad luck, it felt relieving to be outside in the fresh air instead of your work’s stale smell of disinfectant and latex. More so, to avoid another possibility of embarrassing yourself somehow.

Gretel hadn’t pestered you more about your apparent surprise when she brought up Simon, but you could feel her eyes scrutinizing you when you weren’t looking. You pondered if she would be disappointed if you let her know you were mere strangers to each other, bordering on a heavy dislike from the abrupt end you faced.

When you grew tired of trying, you presented him with an ultimatum that took weeks for you to muster up the courage in order to speak of it. It felt more like he was the one to break things off with you than the other way around, which wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. He didn’t even get angry as the tears of distress from his lack of emotions ran down your cheeks when you questioned him, wondering why he stayed.

The look on his face wasn’t giving away an ounce of hurt, only remaining detached like he always did, like your talk was a major inconvenience. Your distraught voice didn’t affect him as you begged him to listen and realize, it took so much away from you always to be mindful of him.

“You never let me in, Simon. I feel like I’m tiptoeing around you all the time, like the smallest thing I say will set you off.” Whenever you spoke of this, it felt like he dissociated. You might as well be talking to a wall the way he seemed to bounce every word back at you, eyes observing you under the dim light of your kitchen where he leaned against the counter.

There had been something strangely different about him this time, though, as he came to you in the middle of the night, disturbing you, who had just managed to fall asleep after an increasingly tricky work day. It wasn’t that you disliked him coming to you, but he never told you why after being gone for so long, which troubled you.

“I don’t even know you! You never tell me anything, and you know almost all there is to know about me.” You gazed at him questioningly, only gaining a blank look back. Crossing his arms, he gazed out the small window of your kitchen as the rain made its way down the glass.

When you stepped into your apartment after your long walk from work, the memory hit you tenfold: everything looked remarkably the same as that day–the last day you saw him. If you focused hard enough, you could almost see him still standing there, watching you indescribably as you poured your heart out to him, begging him to stop shielding himself from you.

Now that you looked back at it, you almost felt embarrassed for how you behaved compared to his composed self, but you couldn’t hold back your frustration anymore. The pain and defeat you felt had boiled over, making you wonder if he had viewed you as childish for the words that poured out of you uncontrollably.

Taking your stained shirt off, you changed into something more comfortable before burying your head in the sheets, wanting to melt into the fabric so you could resume the ignorance of your past the following day.

It didn’t work, though, as you could almost feel the comforting rumble of his voice under your head like the sheets had magically turned into his chest, the steady beating of his heart pulsing heavily against your cheek. The fold in the linen grew into the familiar, scarred skin under your palms, your fingers tracing the ruined tissue that stretched far as the coldness of him heavily contrasted with your warmth.

The low chatter of your ancient TV grew distant as sleep started to pull you into its embrace. In the last remains of wakefulness, you could feel his coarse fingers caress your cheek before pulling some strands that covered it behind your ear–lingering on the soft curves as it hurled you closer to dreamless slumber.

“Stay quiet.”

Your eyes opened wide at the sudden breath that hit your ear; not a figment of your imagination, but someone whispering the words harshly against you. Your first instinct was to scream, but you found a broad, gloved hand already covering your mouth, muting the sound successfully against the otherwise quiet apartment–despite the low buzz of the TV in the background.

A heavy weight had you trapped underneath it, and you trashed wildly against the hold. Your movements grew limited, though, and as you moved, you found yourself pressed even firmer against the mattress, the voice you could recognize anywhere rumbling dangerously at you when you didn’t listen.

“I said quiet.” It felt like water as cold as ice washed over you when the familiar voice reached you, rendering you quiet and unmoving in pure shock.

You didn’t get much time to ponder over your current predicament, hearing quiet yet rustling footsteps step slowly on the creaking floor panels of your apartment. The hair on your arms rose when you realized others who were unwelcome walked outside the room, the creeping footsteps only growing closer to your bedroom door.

As they did, the hand covering your mouth slowly released its grip, but not before pushing a finger against your lips. You obeyed, feeling him pull you closer so you were pulled taut against him, having no choice but to follow his lead as he stepped away from the bed. Every movement was cautious and quiet as your back was pushed up against the wall beside the door, your whole frame covered by a broad back that towered before you.

It was Simon, no doubt. You were sure of it as you gazed up at the man, the broadness of his shoulders, the tall height, and the gruff voice that had called you out earlier. From what you could see from his back, he was dressed differently; a mask seemed to cover the whole of his head down to his neck, pulled into a sweater of the same color as a thick vest could be seen from underneath it.

In a hasty motion, you felt his hand graze the skin of your stomach as he pulled what appeared to be a gun that was strapped against his body from the waistline of his jeans.

Your breath hitched at the sight, the clicking noise as he loaded the metal slowly cutting through the quiet room, backing up even more so you were pushed tighter against the wall. The footsteps had ceased now, and for a while, you pondered if they had ever been there in the first place, wondering if this was reality or just a depraved dream your exhausted mind had conjured up in lack of excitement.

But then, you saw the door handler move slightly out of the corner of your eyes. Craning your head towards it in fear, your view was obscured though as Simon moved to shield you even further, lifting the gun as the door creaked open, the soft light of your hallway lamp illuminating the room, a giant shadow now apparent on the walls from the figure outside.

The door remained open, and the seconds ticked slowly like ages passed; your trembling hands made their way to Simons’s sides, grabbing his waist as you tried to keep your breathing quiet, heartbeat picking up as he placed a gloved hand on yours for a second to then wrap around the handle again.

What transpired next could only be likened to a horrible nightmare: the muted sounds of a suppressed gun going off, a body falling like a ragdoll down on the floor of your bedroom, dark blood seeping into the fabric of your rug from the man now laying there, completely and utterly lifeless.

Left staring at Simons’s back when he rushed towards the figure, he checked the man’s pulse in a quick motion. You couldn’t form a single sound, neither could you think straight as shock flooded you at the sight, eyes growing wide when you started to register what transpired.

Still remaining pressed against the wall in disbelief, you heard the low rumble of Simons’s voice speak into his intercom, eyes staring at you briefly through the holes in his mask before raising up, putting it back in his pocket while stalking toward you in big strides.

Grabbing your shoulders, he pushed you gently but hastily out the door, pushing your head to look forward as your gaze was transfixed on the dead man, finding it increasingly absurd to see that sight in the bedroom you had just slept in.

In your haze, you had found yourself being led into the kitchen, lifted up with strong arms on the counter as he grasped your cheeks in his gloved hands, finding your eyes unfocused and clouded.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice rumbled low in his chest as his eyes sought yours, patting your cheek gently to gain your attention. You craned your neck slightly to look up at him, eyes covered with black paint under the mask, seeming so familiar yet different from the man you knew.

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, confusion lacing the edges as tears started to brim the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming emotions that hit you after the apparent shock that rendered you frozen.

“You’re alright,” he told you; as he swept his thumb over your cheek, a tear fell, bringing your head to his chest as his arms wrapped around you, gripping his waist in distress. Shushing you, he let you lean against him for a while as you sobbed, terrified of what had just transpired and what he had done.

You could still see the emotionless eyes staring back at you in your mind, the thought of them still lying in the next room shooting pangs of anxiety through you. Just like that, he had fallen to the floor, and through your tears, you started to feel the confusion fill you and the shock at what Simon had done.

He had killed a man. Also, he was dressed like a madman, wearing a mask and a vest, with a gun strapped into his jeans. He had been prepared to kill, and that thought hit you like a train as you felt your tears freeze, the arms around you caging you in until you started to push on his chest frantically, begging him to step away.

“What did you do!?” Distressed, you hit Simon’s chest in protest, feeling claustrophobic at having him standing so close after what he had just done. He didn’t budge, though, grabbing your arms tightly as he bent down to look you in the eyes.

“Stop that.” Sternly, he tried to get you to stop moving, but you didn’t listen. Still, uneasiness lingering in your thoughts.

“You killed him!” He hushed you with a dangerous look in his eyes, pulling your hands to your back so he could grip your wrists with one hand, stepping closer so he was pushed against you with the other hand gripping your chin forcefully.

“Listen!” He hissed loudly, making you stop your trashing when he did. “I need to get you out of here, got it?” You only stared at him frightfully as he spoke. “You need to stay quiet and keep close to me. Can you do that?”

When Simon didn’t get an answer, he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the fabric of his glove pulling your wild hair behind your ear.

“If you don’t do as I say, you’ll face the same fate as the man in your bedroom, understand?” You nodded slowly, and as he released your wrists in caution, he gave you a nod back when he realized you were listening to him.

“No matter what, you stay behind me. Got it?” His voice grew monotone as he took hasty strides towards your window, checking the empty street outside your apartment for a second before lowering the blinds. The kitchen grew shrouded in darkness, only the moon shining through the blinds. Taking a deep breath, you wiped your tears as you tried to gather yourself.

This wasn’t how you planned for your night to go. Just like any other Friday night, you were prepared to sleep the night away, not being witness to a murder, no less by your ex. He had been secretive through the years you spent together, and sure, you had made up various insane scenarios about his background. There had been crazier assumptions than Simon being a murderer, but that didn’t make the thought any easier.

Thinking about it made you shiver, wondering who he was beneath this facade he kept up and if this had been the case when you’d known him. Had he been hiding this from you all this time? You couldn’t help but feel betrayed, even if it was only you assuming. But then, he probably knew you would have one or two things to say about his, well, occupation.

Your first instinct was to keep your distance, but you realized you had no choice but to follow his lead if you wanted to escape this chaotic mess. Somewhere along your distressed mind and trembling hands that were a blend of his actions and being told you might have been killed tonight, his presence made the situation less grim, the usual safety he carried around him soothing your stress.

It wasn’t unusual, for he had always prioritized your safety–almost bordering on possessive. It had been a significant problem for you, seeing as it reminded you of your parents, whom you left when you turned 18, not wanting to be under that kind of supervision anymore. Countless memories of gruesome fights flashed before you, remembering the mood swings that turned Simon into a completely different person, words chilling and inexcusable action plenty.

Although many times horrible, his eyes had always been set straight on you, and despite them being sharp and calculated, you could almost feel the warmth radiate from them when they fell upon you. A hand on the small of your back, a large frame shielding you from others’ curious eyes and his sight, ever-so-watchful on you.

He was a man of actions, not words, and always picked you up when needed, walked you home, and even stayed in your apartment every chance possible, deeming it wasn’t a safe neighborhood. You had Simon to thank for the reinforced locks on your doors and windows, as well as the taser and pepper spray still in your purse to this day.

Cautiously, you trailed behind him as you moved through the hallway, the light above you flickering as you felt his hand planting itself on the small of your back as he reached around you. Pressing you closer to him, he took measured steps that echoed through the walls, not a single sound from the apartments surrounding you.

There was obviously something he wasn’t telling you, and there were so many questions you wanted to ask. Who was that man creeping through your apartment, and why, for all reasons, did Simon manage to be there at the right time? It felt too surreal to hold legitimacy, but somehow, you were thankful he was.

Simon’s gaze, once penetrating, had been soft when it met your wide ones a few minutes ago. It had always been rare to find him vulnerable, rarely getting a glimpse of the man behind the stoic eyes, but it reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. The rare glimpses of love he showed were enough to fuel your own at the time, running on the tiny specks of affirmation that he might, in fact, love you like you did him.

But there was a twinge of something else, a draft of loneliness clouding them that you had never seen before. It shot a pang of sadness through you, although unwillingly, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had someone else to lean on when you left him, or had you been the only one?

Blinking the reminiscent thoughts away, you refused to direct your thoughts toward the pity that always laced your feelings regarding Simon. There hadn’t been anything you could do to help him anymore when you left him, and you had to put yourself first for once and realize that what you had was growing increasingly more destructive with time.

You were glad you cut it off before it got any worse, wondering many times how it would have panned out if you hadn’t left. And more so, he hadn’t given you a single reason to stay when you left, only gazing into the air like you weren’t there–not begging you to stay like you desperately wanted.

“Where are you taking me?” A worried curiosity started to take hold of you, and amidst your cautious eyes and careful steps down the stairway in the apartment building, the thought of who the now-dead man actually was and if there were more around swirled in your mind.

You only got a miffed head turn in response, glaring at you through the black paint as he raised a finger to his clothed lips. Getting his notion, you kept quiet behind him, sock-clad feet following his every step on the dirty, laminated floor. You didn’t see a single person on the way down, and it felt eerie despite it being in the middle of the night with everyone asleep.

As you descended on what you now realized was the entry floor, you suddenly felt yourself pulled roughly against the corner of a wall, face right before Simon’s chest. You heard voices coming from the opening of the building, sirens audible in the background as the sound of traffic lessened when someone closed the door–voices growing nearer by the second.

You gasped out loud at suddenly being trashed around, but when you saw the broad arms of Simon encase your head with his body pressed up against yours, you relaxed. Craning your head hastily to gaze up at him, you already found his eyes staring intensely at you, although faltering when he met yours in what you might have interpreted as shyness.

Your gaze flickered, unsure where to look now that he was so close to you. You opted to plant your eye on his chest, the folds and curves of the sweatshirt following his ample muscles that were hiding under the fabric, bulging when his m muscles flexed.

A deep, red blush grew on your cheeks, and you chastised yourself for being so obvious, wondering if he took notice. Redirecting your gawking, you tried looking towards the side but found his large arms blocking your view as he leaned down further to shield you from, well, you weren’t so sure.

After some time, you heard the hurried voices pass as the footsteps grew distant. As you looked up at Simon, relieved, you found him already stalking towards the entry door, grabbing your upper arm when you stumbled to drag you behind him.

It was freezing outside, the chilly air seeping into the thin cotton of your pajamas as you cringed when your feet stepped on the snowy sidewalk, now wholly wet. You didn’t have time to ponder it, though, being directed towards a black car poorly parked a few meters away, like the driver had been in a hurry.

The street was empty, aside from a few other cars littered around the streets, heavy with the snowfall that had been falling a few hours ago. It wasn’t a neighborhood with a good reputation, and often you read about the crime and dealings held in the dark alleyways and corners of the city. You didn’t have too many options, though, the already low pay from your nurse job being even lower since you just got out of school.

The seat underneath you was cold when Simon pushed you through the door, slamming it so hard that the sound echoed in the quiet street. Running quickly to the driver’s side, he wasted no time in starting the engine, tires screeching as he belted through the tightly built buildings into the highway.

His eyes were strained, staring firmly ahead, ignoring all laws of speeding when he drove faster–not that there were any other cars around. Confusion clouded your face as you stared at him staying taut against his seat, glancing worriedly in the rearview mirror every other second.

“What’s going on, Simon?” You asked him, voice audibly stressed, gripping the seat tightly and craning your head to look behind you. There was no answer, as expected, and it only managed to fuel your anxiety as you watched his jaw tighten under the taut mask caressing his jawline. It didn’t deter you from continuing to demand an answer to why you were in this chaotic mess in the first place and what his part was in it.

The engine’s rhythmic hymn provided a backdrop to your growing unease, prodding him to speak. “Simon!” You pleaded, but he remained silent, navigating the empty streets with a determination that intrigued and frightened you–the unanswered question hanging heavy in the air, thick and stifling.

Simon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and you were shot with a sharp, almost challenging look. “There’s people after you,” he snapped, voice cutting through the air. “But I can’t lay it all out for you now, so just do as I say.”

“What?!” You gripped the seat to turn around, seeing the road behind you devoid of any other cars. “You can’t be serious!”

His gaze, shielded and focused, hid the more profound truth–that the dangerous shadows tailing you were a consequence of his own actions, a perilous side of his life that had unexpectedly spilled into yours when he basked in the euphoria of being loved by you. The bonds you once shared had been like an anchor but now grew into a chain, its links forged in the crucible of his regrets.

You were left staring ahead while damning his stubbornness to not speak through the rest of the ride. The long way allowed you to think about the last hour and how absurd it was, especially seeing Simon again, which you had thought would never be the case some time ago.

Somewhere, deep in the crooks and nooks of your heart, it soared at seeing him again, prodding heavily at the memories you kept at bay, memories that hurt too much to consider many times. You examined his body that too many others bulged in pride and confidence, but to you, hunching slightly in exhaustion, fingers flexing nervously against the wheel.

He had grown much taller and broader since you last saw him, with an air of maturity surrounding him that you hadn’t noticed before. Admittedly, you were both grown adults now, more so since he was older than you, and it felt quite different to be near him. You were unsure if you had romanticized the few good parts of your relationship that weren’t shrouded in misunderstandings and miscommunication or if you actually missed the first and only man you had ever loved.

The air in the vehicle grew tight as time passed, but at least it was warm as he had put the heat on blast when taking notice of your shivering frame. The strain of emotions from the moments leading up to now seemed to get a hold of you, and in a tired haze, you felt your lids droop heavily as you tried to keep your focus on the road.

After some time, though, your head fell heavily against the door, neck craning uncomfortably as your body succumbed to the heavy load of the day. It felt like seconds had passed when you woke up from your deep slumber, head fitted into warm sheets covering your body in heaps as small orange lights shone through the blinds.

As you blinked slightly, you still felt the heaviness of sleep hanging over you, bare feet rubbing against the bedding as you snuggled closer into the warmth and familiar scent that surrounded you, once more falling into a dreamless slumber without wondering where the hard, plastic side of the door against your cheek went.

It wasn’t until the evening sun settled high in the sky that you awoke again, this time wide awake. Only, it wasn’t your bed; instead, dark, blue sheets covered your frame, shielding you against the coldness of the apartment–only now noticing a black jacket twice the size of your body wrapped around you.

–

Slightly dazy and confused, you rubbed your eyes that complained at having to remain open, sitting up straight. So, last night hadn’t been a dream? Smiling lightly, you realized your night had been much more action-filled than your colleagues if that counted for something.

“Hello?” Your voice broke through the silence, quiet and cautious, yet sure Simon had to be nearby. When the silence stretched on, you cast the blanket aside to recognize the familiar chill wound around your legs that weren’t shielded by the jacket.

Grimacing, you pulled the sides of the jacket closer to you, wondering if the heat was off. There was no mistake that it wasn’t yours, the wooden floor under your feet creaking audibly as you stepped over some planks that were missing, observing the small cracks that stretched on the walls and bedroom door that had been wholly wrung off its hinges, now leaning against the wall.

Walking into the small hallway, you stepped over the various objects loitering the floor, bending down to examine what appeared to be some old paperwork among the dirty shirts that couldn’t have been cleaned for a while.

Scrunching your nose, you grabbed the fabric to put it on the old plastic chair that missed one leg, wondering where you had ended up. You heard the slight thud of something falling towards the floor as you did. Gazing down in confusion, the appearance of a small portrait caught your eyes, not having been there a second ago.

Raising your brows, you bent down again, picking up the shiny paper as you observed the familiar smiling face. You remembered the day vividly, the memory making the corners of your mouth chirp up lightly as it flashed before your eyes.

You had rarely gone out with Simon, being told by him that it was too dangerous for you to be seen with him. Despite your disagreement about it, you often spend long days in bed, the smell of homemade breakfast wafting under your nose and the feeling of starved hands moving desperately, heatedly, now filling your mind.

You were buried in your bed sheets; face blushed with hair spreading wildly around you like a halo as you gave Simon a toothy smile, begging him not to take the picture through endless giggles as his hand tickled you playfully. He had just made love to you, tender in his own way, and told you he wanted to show you how beautiful you looked to him at that moment.

You placed the marred picture back into the heavy combat jacket you had laid on the chair just now, curious of the torn edges and suspiciously red substance covering it in some places. Had he kept that picture all these years?

“Simon?” Walking further into the apartment, you grew worried, wondering where Simon was. That’s when you heard the low rumble of his voice, talking in a hushed manner.

Tiptoeing faster, you caught sight of his large frame leaning against the kitchen sink, gazing at you monotonously when you entered as his mouth worded undecipherable words before ending the call, pulling the phone back into his front pocket.

As you placed the puzzle pieces together, you realized you were in his apartment. That explains it, you thought to yourself as your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the dire state of it. You couldn’t help but be surprised, never imagining that Simon lived in such a pigsty. It wasn’t that it was untidy; it was more like someone hadn’t been here for ages and ignored the dire need for renovations, looking like it would fall apart at any moment.

Your wide-open eyes met his calculating ones, and as you opened your mouth to speak, he cleared his throat before you could. “Sleep well?” He raised his brow as the question hung in the air, eyes caressing your form as he took you in.

“I, uh…” you trailed off, scrunching your forehead as you tried to find the right words, completely and utterly overwhelmed at where you found yourself. “Yeah, I think so.”

You got a nod back, still staring intensely into each other’s eyes as you wondered where to start the questions that burned in your mind. “You,” you stuttered. “You’re here.” Your fumbled words grew into more of a statement than a question, confusion lacing your expression.

Simon only gave you a look in response, and had you been looking close enough, you would see the corners of his mouth chirp up slightly, unwillingly, of course.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out. “No, what am I doing here?” Shaking your head to clear it, you dragged a hand through your wildly tousled hair before trying again, glancing at him in irritation. “What’s going on?”

He straightened up from his leaning position but didn’t step closer, still rendering you shying slightly away from his intimidating posture as he towered over you, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket slightly–nervously fidgeting your feet on the cold planks.

He nodded towards one of the old chairs surrounding a smaller table, beckoning you to sit down. Cautiously, you shuffled into the small kitchen, sitting tentatively on the chair as you hoped it wouldn’t break under your weight. Simon, though, stayed in his place, watching you indescribably before leaning his hands on the end of the table.

He glanced sideways like he was giving something a heavy thought before directing his gaze toward you again. “You’re in trouble,” he said. “The man I killed yesterday, he had been sent out to kill you.”

You froze in your seat as you felt shivers of utter fear running over your back as your heart began to race, its erratic beats echoing in your ears. The silence enveloped the room was broken by the ominous sounds of your breath, each inhaling a reluctant acknowledgment of the palpable reality you had dreaded.

Kill you? Why in the world would someone want to kill you? The fear grew into a hand that tightened its grip around your chest, making it harder for you to draw breath. Noticing your struggle, Simon’s hand flexed slightly as if he wanted to reach you amidst the panic but decided against it. Instead, he draped the mask he had been wearing over his head, revealing the piercing gaze accompanied by the blonde tufts of hair, messy from wearing the balaclava as the remains of sweat wetted the roots of his hair.

“Hey, it’s alright. He won’t get the chance now.” You weren’t sure if his words had been meant to provide you with comfort, but seeing him without his mask made you feel slightly safer.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You only got a grunt in response as he straightened up, turning away from you to look out the window. “Who was he?” You asked, trying to crane your neck to get more glimpses of his face that he had shielded from you until now.

There was something different about them, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They seemed tired, though; the bags underneath them were hard not to notice, heavy and swollen as the whites of his eyes were shielded under a light redness.

“Kessler.” He let on, words short. Noticing your silence, he sighed. “Victor Kessler”

“But why was he in my apartment?”

Rubbing his eyes, you saw the muscles tense in irritation. “He did… something he shouldn’t, so he got expelled from the task force,” he said. “We’ve been keeping a close eye on him every since, but revenge isn’t a fool's game–not for him, it seems.” He felt your gaze on him, sighing again when he realized you weren’t satisfied by the answer.

“Look, I don’t know. Revenge maybe? He was going to use you to get to me; knowing you being dead would give him the reaction he wanted. Either way, you don’t have to worry about him now.”

“Why would…” As his words sunk in after you started to speak, you stuttered, caught off guard. “Why would he use me of all people?” To say you were baffled was an understatement. What you had with Simon was a story from years ago, a thing of the past, which meant there was no reason for you to be the target of their malice.

You felt his eyes on you, but as you looked back, they returned to gaze out into the dark street lightened by the snow and the flickering streetlamp. There were many things you didn’t know of, many things he hadn’t told you–mostly because of secrecy and his stubbornness, but also from the humiliation he would face if he did.

He never thought about how strange it would be for you to wake up and suddenly see him in your apartment after all these years, but Simon didn’t think as he belted towards your building complex in sheer panic when he got the notion just in time.

Without your knowledge, he had been watching you ever since you decided to leave, dead set on never letting you out of his sight. It wasn’t for some sick, deluded reason as many may think, but more of a worry about how he had involved you into his life that he knew couldn’t be escaped, how your safety was compromised when he was too weak to leave.

“It doesn’t matter.” His response was short and conceit, brushing off your inquiries. You pondered over his words that fell reluctantly from his mouth, growing dizzy from all the questions that surged within you at the information.

“You’re a soldier?” He smiled slightly at your conversation change, unbeknownst to you, as his back faced your questioning glances. “Special force operator.”

“Oh,” you mouthed silently, like his words resonated with you. The Simon you had known for most of your life was a soldier? The thought was strange, but it connected some dots for you and the mystery that had always followed him. Special force operator?

“What’s that?”

“We handle things regular troops can’t touch, take missions that others don’t dare.”

“What, like superheroes?” You managed to get something that was supposed to be like a laugh but intertwined with a scoff.

“No, it’s not about playing superhero, love. It’s about being the one who gets things done when the stakes are their highest.” He felt your gaze burning on his back, closing his eyes as the word fell out against his will, like a habit.

He had sometimes called you that when you were together, the endearing term slipping out occasionally. You chastised yourself when you felt the familiar yet strange fluttering in your stomach when hearing it leave, cautiously raising from the chair like Simon was a provoked animal, even though he remained utterly still where he stood, not minding you.

You glanced shyly as you approached him, still not used to being in his presence after such a long time. “So, that’s why you always were so secretive, huh?” The fabric of your jackets touched slightly, the feeling making him glance down at you in a concealed startle at suddenly having you so close. He looked away as you glanced up at him, refusing to let him get away with a grunt as an answer this time.

“You could’ve gotten hurt if I didn’t.” He looked indecisive when your cold fingers lightly placed their way on his hand that rested on the window sill, dark eyes avoiding yours. The skin under your palm was freezing now that his gloves had been removed, the scarred tissue you knew so well contrasting heavily against your unspoiled ones, pads rough and rugged.

Worming your nimble fingers through the backside of his hand, you observed the difference quietly, leaning your head on his big arm tentatively. The muscle tensed under you, his body growing taut under your touch as he had always done, mostly when he came back from what you, at the time, didn’t know the cause of, bruised and apprehensive.

You relaxed slightly when he didn’t pull away, glancing into the street silently. You should still have been terrified to the bone, but safety had always been a given when Simon was near you, and now you understood why you had felt that way. It made you somewhat sad to realize he didn’t speak to you about who he was, but somewhere, you understood why he hadn’t, why he still didn’t tell you the entirety of the situation.

What rendered you speechless was that he had been keeping track of you for this long since he was aware you were in danger. While you had been trying to forget him and move on with your life, he kept tabs on you, ensuring you would be safe.

“You should have told me.” He shook his head immediately, stepping away from your touch, shivering as he still felt the lingering drag of your fingers on his hand.

“I’m glad I didn’t.” You scrunched your brows at his response, stepping toward him but not getting any closer as he grabbed your upper arms in warning. “You’ve only seen me now because you’re in danger, alright? I’ll let you be once you’re safe. I’m unsure if Kessler has any other connections, but I have people who will look it up before you leave. I also had someone go through your apartment and make sure to remo-”

“I don’t want you to leave, Simon.” You interrupted him mid-sentence, words leaving you before you could think them through. It was dangerous for him to be here since he raised feelings inside you that had been buried a long time ago and were best kept locked away; you couldn’t help it, though, for the good moments you remembered were so devastatingly wonderful–making your now boring life pale in its memory.

He stilled at your words, a profound conflict littering his blue eyes as he gazed into your guilty ones. Raising your hand, you placed it on his cheek, running it tentatively over his skin. You thought he would pull away, so you were surprised to see his eyes fluttering shut at the contact, almost leaning into your touch.

The air surrounding you grew taut, with an underlying tension from the warmth spreading low in your belly. Swallowing nervously, you couldn’t help but step closer to him, bringing your arms around his waist to place your palms against the broadness of his back, breathing in his scent as you pushed your cheek flat against his chest.

You shouldn’t, but there was a pull you had no choice but to follow, wondering if it would feel the same as before. You felt his arms wound around you, your lips trembling at the familiar feeling you remembered always used to leave you breathless with devotion.

Simon pulled you tighter towards him, thinking of how he had remembered you feeling against him on the cold, unsure nights, only a gun strapped to his back and a picture of you in the pocket closest to his heart.

Sometimes, when he was sure he was taking his last breaths, he would grab the piece of printed paper, dust it off from the ashes of war as his blood-soaked fingers swiped over the picture, coloring you in a tint of red as he remembered how you had looked the day it was taken. It’s what kept him going when he didn't feel like pushing on.

He wasn’t afraid of dying, neither was he of going to hell, for every day that had passed without you in it, only a picture as proof, already brought him into the scorching fire as the devil himself tortured Simon by only being able to watch you from a distance, all because of his own choices.

It was his fault, of course, that he had chosen this path, but when he met you, it was too late. No longer could he hide from the life he had chosen, having to sacrifice you so he could keep you safe. If that wasn’t torture in itself, he wasn’t sure what was.

The warmth that enveloped him ran like fire up his veins, all sense of logic falling out the window as he basked in your touch, suddenly grabbing your waist and hoisting you around his, stalking in significant strides towards the counter. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the coarse stubble rubbing against your cheek as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his hands wander their way under his jacket that covered you, finding sanction around your waist as he sighed at the feeling of your nose trailing up his neck.

Bending his head down towards yours, his lips desperately sought yours, all restraint gone as the chains holding him back fell towards the floor in a loud clank, pushing your body taut against his.

Fueled by his affection, you bask in the tenderness of his touch and desperation in his movements as you push all sense of logic to the back of your mind, longing to feel what you had always felt with Simon, the feelings that had been simmering in the back of your mind.

You shivered as his calloused hands crept under your shirt, caressing the soft skin that had remained untouched ever since he left, battled-bruised hands seeking sanction in the curves of your body that filled his wanton dreams, dreams that always depicted you.

“Simon.” you gasped in a quiet voice, hands running up to rest in the tufts of his hair, arching your back when his fingers traveled down to your backside, palms fitting wholly against you as he pushed you tighter toward his front with a quick drag.

A grunt left him when your legs tightened against him, feeling your crotch pressed against him, the euphoric feeling bordering on nostalgia. The room that remained as cold as it had been before wasn’t anything you pondered over when his hands unzipped your jacket, leaving it still wrapped around your arms, but the shirt of your pajamas was now visible.

“Tell me to stop.” His lips attached themselves to the crevice of your neck, bringing the supple flesh into his mouth as he groaned against you, fingers running their way up your shirt to lightly skim over the thin fabric covering your bare chest.

“Stop, Simon.” You said, voice monotone as you heeded his command needlessly, not paying attention to what you were saying as his thumb slowly caressed the side of your breast, begging him to touch you as your legs automatically widened to let him step further into your embrace.

He didn’t stop, though, not being able to restrain himself any longer as he saw how deliciously your nipple strained against your shirt, mouth-watering as they seemed to almost beg for him to wrap his lips around them. Doing just that, he heard the sound of your moan vibrating through the quiet room as you felt the unusual feeling of his tongue swiping over it through the fabric, gasping as you felt him grind his middle against yours slowly.

“Push me away. I mean it.” Weak hands found his shoulder pushing against the muscles that hid under the fabric of his jacket as he growled out the words, not budging him one bit as he continued his assault on your breast, covering the other with his palm as he crouched down slightly to make up for the height difference.

Grunting in frustration at his body not following his mind, he lifted you up once more after detaching his lips from you, carrying your heated body towards the manky, old bedroom. You unzipped his heavy winter jacket the short way you could, worming your hands around him like a snake, disapproving of the bulletproof vest strapped to him under the sweater. Instead, you grabbed his cheeks between your hands, placing your lips on his once more, feeling him pushing you up against the wall in the hallway.

Putting you down on your feet, he roughly removed the jacket from your arms, then gently helped you pull the fabric of the shirt to reveal your upper body, feeling his hands grab your bottom to carry you into the bedroom, carefully minding your head as he laid you down on the hard mattress, standing up to examine you as your chest heaved out its breath, gazing tenderly at Simon.

That did it, no doubt. The sight almost made his knees buckle; he grabbed ahold of the small wardrobe placed by the foot of the bed as he removed his jacket, lifting your back up slightly to put it behind you, your desperate lips finding their place on his neck as he bent down, stubborn legs wounding their way around his hips as you dragged him towards you like a siren.

He couldn’t help but follow, comfortably fitting his front against yours, the thin fabric of your pajama pants letting him feel you better as he strained against his jeans, the material stretched tight under his massive desire for you. Your breath hitched as he moved languidly, placing his forearm under your neck as you stared up at him through hazy eyes, a deep blush falling from your cheeks to your chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he swore into the otherwise quiet room at the sight. As your eyes met, you could see the sharp eyes crease as he scrunched his eyes tight, dragging his hand that wasn’t under your head down the curves of your sides, memorizing every crevice like this was the last time he could feel it.

The room grew shrouded in the released tension, now thick with a burning want as the large man hovering over you pushed your smaller frame against his ruined mattress, shame not having the chance to fill him yet from the state of the room he was devouring you in.

You paid no mind either, letting out a cry when you felt his hand creep down between your bodies, feeling the warmth of your crotch under his thick fingers as he parted two of them, dragging their way on the side of your lips, never really touching you where you mostly wanted him to.

“I can’t do this to you.” His voice was rough, blending a deep want and a heavy twinge of regret like he was doing something completely unlawful. You stroked his temple with your nimble fingers, wiping the sweat dripping down his forehead away, caressing the skin lovingly.

“Do what, Simon?” He didn’t give you an answer as you asked him breathlessly, but you knew what he meant, feeling like this was too hasty, too quick. But you couldn’t stay away from him, and all the hurt and uncertainty he had let you face entirely on your own, it felt too good to have him near you–for him to want you.

The slow drag of his crotch against yours growing more forceful, you were brought from your thoughts, breath hitching as the large imprint of him rubbed over the material of your pants, feeling every slide grow muted as a warm shiver traveled down your back, a sting of pleasure shooting sharply up your body all the way to your fingertips.

It was numbing, the way he chased after your lips while trying to pull himself away from you, arm pulling you closer yet head pulling away from you. The internal battle he faced was visible, but your warm and caressing hand lulled him closer to you, soothing the harsh thoughts that filled his mind, the worrying that stretched the lines deep on his face.

At the same time, he panted, dragging your trousers down your thighs, refusing to pull away from you, so when he realized there was no other way, you heard the fabric tear amidst the loud ringing in your eyes from excitement.

Your eyes shot open, but before you could speak, you felt Simon’s thumb push its way into your mouth, muting your sound of protest as he buried his head in your chest. Your hands threaded through his hair as you scratched the roots in pleasure when his other hands rubbed you over your underwear, wetness seeping through the material so his fingers could glide over you more easily.

It was mind-numbing, the sparks of pleasure you felt as his calloused fingers finally met skin, dragging slowly between your folds as your panties were pushed aside.

“Oh, god!” A strangled attempt at speaking left you, mouth agape as you arched up against him, feeling a thick finger slowly wind its way into the gummy walls, clenching down on the intrusion. The feeling left you quickly, though, and as a whine of disappointment left you, you felt his finger caress your clit in soft circles, making your hips move in motion with his hand.

Swallowing your noises, Simon’s tongue wormed its way into your welcoming mouth, lips massaging yours as he grabbed your cheek with one hand gently. Running your hands under the fabric of his sweater, you grabbed the vest underneath it in discontent, trying to show him you wanted it off, unable to do it yourself as his heavy weight rendered you moveless underneath him.

His eyes, now a swirling pool of black in the dark room, gazed dangerously into yours, grabbing the end of his sweater and pushing it over his head, refusing to detach from you. As the skin of his upper body was revealed, your hands ran over every piece of skin you could find to then push against the straps, the vest detaching from its hold, Simon throwing it beside the bed in a hurry, grabbing your thighs to push the plump flesh up beside you, gazing heatedly at your puffy lips that peaked through your panties, red and tender from his fingers.

Closing his eyes, he tried to gather his clouded brain, vision unfocused as he could only make out the blissful expression on your face. Wiping his forehead, he kissed the soft skin of your thighs, feeling them stay planted firmly where he pushed them as he let go.

His hands lowered to drag down the zip of his pants, his hardness straining painfully against the fabric. As the material loosened, a sigh of relief left him. Still, then pleasure so sharp ran through him when he felt your nimble hands slowly caress the bulge in his briefs, beckoning him to retake his place in the crevice of your neck, almost biting into your skin as your hand wormed its way into his briefs.

God had imprinted your every touch into his mind, only dragging them out when nights had turned too cold or lonely. Like some depraved animal, he had imagined your hands gliding over him in the confines of this bed when he was on leave, other times imagining your fingers wrapping their way around his shaft as he found to sleep in the corner of some building, teammates only meters away as he fell into a helpless dream of you and your soft touch.

To feel you touch him like that again must have been some type of depraved joke from the devil himself, finding pleasure in the torture of knowing he would never be able to feel this again. The slow drag of your fingers down the trail of hair that led to his crotch, slowly palming the scorching shaft that pulsed against your touch, the small leak of precum making the feeling all too much for Simon to contain himself.

“Fuckin’ hell, are you trying to kill me?” He panted out, grabbing your wrist when it became too much. Instead of a noise of disappointment, the beautiful sound of your laugh clung in his ears, and when he looked up, he found you giving him a toothy smile, a blissed-out expression covering your face.

“Oh, Simon,” you said, staring warmly at him as you took in the heaving of his chest as he planted his arms beside you, covering your whole frame with his large body. Looking down, you parted your legs even more, the anticipation being too much for you to handle, wishing he would dampen the warmth spreading in the low of your stomach.

Suddenly you felt his mouth against your begging wetness, tongue laying flat against your lips as he massaged and licked striped to your red clit, mumbling incoherent words against you that only vibrated euphorically against your sensitive parts.

As you trashed underneath him, his hands wound their way under your legs, pushing your hips down to the mattress as you felt his tongue worm its way into your tightly clenched whole to then once more tease your clit with his tongue, staring up at your face as the paint around his eyes dripped with the sweat down the folds of your legs, almost eating you whole as he lapped at you.

Hitting his head lightly, you begged for him to end his torture with pleading, tear-filled eyes from the overstimulation. You felt him everywhere as he buried his face nose-deep into your heat, hands burning every part of your skin that they caressed frantically, like starved for the feeling of you underneath them.

Pushing the ball of your palm into his bulging, scar-littered shoulder when he didn’t listen, you hit him once more when you regained more power, and he pushed himself hastily above you, almost manhandling you as he removed your panties off your legs and throwing them behind him.

“Come here,” he tells you, and it isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you that your facade breaks, tears gliding languidly down your cheeks in a quiet sob as he thrusts slow and deep, pushing down your thighs until they are burning from the stretch against the mattress–spread wide for only him. Simon hummed at the thought.

Hugging his head close to you, you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your neck as the sounds of him thrusting against you echo in the room, hefty and bulky, as you feel him bullying his way into you.

You knew this was it, and for that reason, you held him tighter, trying to imprint his touch into your head–wishing to prolong this moment so it would never stop, pleading with whoever would listen to make him stay. Your pleading only turned into mindless babbling as the force of his hips pushed you further up the bed, breasts bouncing with every motion.

Hearing the words stumble from you like he remembered they always did, he cooed at you, feeling your walls fluttering around his cock as he swore. “I know love, I know.” Breathlessly, he pushed himself up on his hands, grabbing the headboard as he continued to pound into you, watching you cry out with wet cheeks.

Closing his eyes in pain, he felt his heart cramp when what he was doing passed through his mind, knowing this wasn’t fair to you. But he couldn’t stop himself from having you, for you rendered him weak in the knees every time, not sure you knew of the power you held over him.

“Simon, please,” you begged with a trembling voice, staring into his dark eyes as his breath heaved with strain, begging him not to leave you again. He kept his gaze locked with yours, face contorting in agony when he realized your face would haunt him forever, damning him for his ways. He would stay away and leave you alone–he just needed to feel you for one last time, just once more.

To avoid the hurt that started to spread in his loins at the thought, he suddenly pulled you up by your forearms as he laid on his back, pulling you into his strong embrace as he splayed you over his chest, legs on either side of his waist.

A whine left you when he entered you once again, rutting up into you with strong legs planted firmly on the mattress, feeling you glide up his body with every thrust as your head buried its way into his neck. What left you now wasn’t even moans, mouth open wide in a noiseless scream as his hips slapped loudly against yours.

Grabbing the back of your hair, he pushed your head up so you started into his eyes, trying to tell you the three words he couldn’t speak. You gave no indication of noticing, eyes flickering in both pain and lust, arms on either side of his head as he kept pushing into you.

“Stay,” you managed to get out amidst his assault on you, gripping his shoulder tightly as the coil in your stomach started to tighten almost painfully. He remained quiet as he shook his head, bringing your face closer so he could press his lips against yours.

His chapped lips fitted like a puzzle piece against yours, and your hand lifted to caress the fading scars littering the skin on his face. He hit every sweet spot inside of you, pubic bone creating heavenly friction against your sensitive nub as it rubbed together when his movements grew faster. You found it hard to breathe as he swallowed your attempts, and with one hand on your waist and the other pushing your lips against his, you felt lightheaded as you moaned out against his mouth.

Starting to hit the mattress beside you in panic, he only pushed you tighter against his robot-like motions; the feeling was entirely overwhelming as the warmth that had begun spreading low in your stomach now traveled its way throughout your whole body. Your legs lay limp on the mattress, his muscular legs moving to shove you back on the mattress, now gripping the headboard again so he could push into you with more force.

When his hand found your clit, you saw white streaks of sharp light before your eyes, arching your back of the sheets as a noiseless scream left you, wet tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you saw his eyes set intensely on you from above, your head shaking from side to side from the pleasure as you felt Simon piston in and out of you.

You didn’t want him to stop, knowing that when he did, you would never see him again. You were sure of it, felt it in how he held you and looked at you. So, when you felt the foil snap, you could only cry out as your ears started to ring, pulsating heavily around him as the cramps of your orgasm filled you with a scorching pleasure.

Every thrust of his prolongs your pleasure, still shooting through you as you fall backward, limp under Simon’s still forceful thrusts.

“That’s it, love.” Panting above you, he fell into your arms, rutting heavily against you as he wound his arms around your waist, finding strength in his muscular legs to keep his hips going, grunting audibly against your neck as you kept clenching around him. “Give it to me. Only me,” he mumbled against your wet skin, delirious from being in your embrace he so had missed.

“Only you, Simon. It will always,” you hiccuped. “Always be you.” The sobbing, blissed-out words coming from you were the final straw, his thrusts growing harder but slowing down as he bit into the skin of your neck, knuckles turning white from gripping your waist as his face contorted.

The pleasure kept roaming through him as he kept on moving inside you, prolonging the feeling as his cum rimmed around where his cock entered you, dribbling down you in heaps as it kept coming, stuffing you to the brim.

Spent, you feel the heavy weight of Simon relaxing against you, staying inside you as he tries to regain his breath–not wanting to part from you. A shaking hand found your trembling ones, intertwining them as he caressed the back of it with his thumb, reveling in how your hand caressed the skin of his back, shivers running down it as he basked in the afterglow of being one with you.

Your already heavy eyelids tried to keep open, refusing to let him slip out of your fingers, but your body had grown spent as it strained against the sleep wounding its way through you.

“Simon,” you mumbled, voice almost inaudible as he brought your hand to rest with his beside your head, humming at you, the vibrating of his chest lulling you closer to sleep. As it surrounded you forcefully, you could only let the last teardrop fall from your eyes, knowing he was seeping out of your grasp like dust.

–

The cold was seeping through you the moment you woke up, shivers wrecking through you as the bleak walls stared back at you–the blanket wrapped around you doing nothing to protect you from the chill. In a daze, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes tiredly, trying to regain focus as you coddled the blanket closer to your body.

That’s when the horror spread through you, head trashing wildly as you gazed around you while taking in your surroundings. A familiar, worn-down apartment stared back at you, the night dark outside as you gasped, fearing being left alone in his eerie apartment.

“Simon!” You yelled out, voice trembling as you stepped onto the wooden planks of the floor, shielding yourself with the blanket as you bolted through the hallway into the kitchen, finding it empty as you trashed open the door to the bathroom.

Your heart picked up its pace, feeling like someone had shot you right through the chest when you realized you were by yourself–completely and utterly alone, and he had left you just like you knew he would.

“Simon!” You belted out once again, leaning towards the wall in distress as the cries grew soundless as the power of it traveled up your throat, feeling it constrict until the wails filled the empty space, sobs leaving you as you grabbed your heart in agony.

By some sort of hope, you had wished he would stay even though you knew it was inevitable, but as you took notice, that wasn’t the case. Once again, the warmth of his hands had left you, forcing you to come to terms with living the bleak years of your life without him in your life, disappearing–never to return to your embrace again.

As you stood there, sobbing with cheeks red with tears, you damned yourself for loving him in the first place, for letting him step into your life once more when you were finally moving forward with your life. Unable to take the pain, you slide down the wall, glancing up at the walls as the ghost of him starts to loom over you, his shadow growing more fierce–more apparent–as you cover your head, unwilling to face reality any longer.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost imagine #cod imagine #Hurt no comfort

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gffa · 2 months

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I adore your batman stuff very much. I recently read the Wayne Family Adventures, and now I really want to read some more. Do you have recommendations on comic lines to follow?

Hi! I'm glad you're having fun with getting into comics and enjoying the posts around here, it's always nice to have new blood (or returning blood, in my case)! <3 I would give a gentle caution in that Wayne Family Adventures is sort of in a class of its own in a lot of ways, the characterization is much softer and fluffier, while the mainline comics are darker and messier, the characters are definitely not always as nice as they are as in WFA. That's no shade on either of them, just that I want to give a quick warning that if you're stepping from one to the other, the culture shock can sometimes be more than you're expecting. (And also keep in mind that comics are a shifting landscape, there's no one "true" version of many of the landmark moments of characters' lives, you'll see events often retold, you'll see comics that later get retconned, you'll see comics that are in different continuities/set before or after a universe-wide reboot, etc. Don't worry about it, just recognize that you're reading a story to enjoy that story, not as Hard Continuity!) That said, some of the lighter comics that I think would be fun if you're looking to come over from WFA are:

Li'l Gotham is a cute parody series that's super adorable, has some lovely art, and is nice little self-contained stories that are humorous. It's not in mainline continuity and it's even softer than WFA, but it's deeply charming and it's a fun, quick read.

Super Sons (2017) by Peter Tomasi is in mainline continuity and it's focused on Damian Wayne and Jonathan Kent becoming friends, bickering all the while, and getting into hijinks. It tends to lean more humorous and cute, so it's a nice stepping stone up to regular comics.

Robin and Batman (2022) by Jeff Lemire and Dustin Nguyen is a good litmus test for whether you might like regular comics--it's a short 3-issue mini-series focused on Dick's early days as Robin and the complicated, thorny relationship he has with Bruce about it. It's one of my favorite, it balances what a terrible gremlin he was with what a little angel he was and the emotional beats are painful in the best way.

Robin: Year One (2000) and Batgirl: Year One (2003) by Scott Beatty/Chuck Dixon and Marcos Martín/Javier Pulido are good places to start for both characters, and hold up okay considering their age. The art is a bit stylized in a way I really like, it lends it a charming old-fashioned vibe while still being pretty to look at, and there's some solid character moments in both.

Nightwing (2016) by various (starts with Tim Seeley, but it's been several authors by now) is one of my go-to recs, I think it's a great jumping on point, has a lot of really nice art, and often tells fun stories, as Dick has some of the best connections to various other characters in the universe.

Nightwing (2016) by Tom Taylor starts with issue #78 and is a great jumping-on point and Taylor's writing is just very light-hearted, action-packed, quippy, and fun. Starting here saves you from having to slog through some of the worse arcs of Dick's series, you get Bruno Redondo's fantastic art, and you can feel the affection for the character, the author and artist love this character and want to make him very cool, as well as they love his relationships with other characters, so you get good Bruce guest appearances, Babs appearances, Damian appearances, Wally appearances, Jon appearances, etc.

Robins: Being Robin by Tim Seeley and Baldemar Rivas was a fun self-contained mini-series that had all the Robins working together and I don't think it should be taken super seriously as a case story, but it had some quality banter, some hilarious moments, and a great look at these chaotic gremlins all shoved into a mini-van together to go solve a case.

Batgirls (2022) by Conrad Michael W./Becky Cloonan and Jorge Corona is focused on Babs, Cass, and Steph as a trio and being adorable together, with some humorous moments, cool art, and fun Batfam moments. It's nice that they get the spotlight and the chance to shine (it's their book, so they get the majority of the cool moments) and it's not super-long and you can jump right in.

Batman: The Knight by Chip Zdarsky and Carmine Di Giandomenico is a "Bruce travels the world to learn the skills he needs to become Batman" and I'm really in love with the way Zdarsky writes a Bruce who is deeply complicated, messy, coming from a place of loving deeply, but also this man has twenty seven different flavors of fucked up trauma going on in that hell brain of his. Zdarsky's current run on the main Batman title has been my jam, but that's a bit of a darker leap than this one, and I think this one is a great way to get to know Bruce Wayne as a character.

Batman: Urban Legends volume 5 has a story called "The Murder Club" that is basically "Thomas and Martha Wayne are time traveled into the future and see what's become of their son, they're not thrilled about it, but come around when they see the people that love him so deeply--primarily Dick, Damian, and Alfred." and was an absolute BANGER for me for feelings, gorgeous art, and some great character moments.

Batman/Superman: World's Finest (2022) by Mark Waid and Dan Mora is an absolute knock-out, it's Bruce and Clark in their early days of their friendship, where Waid is one of the best writers in the industry for how fun his stories are but also how well he knows the characters, Mora's art is often THE portrayal I think of when I think of the characters, and there's a ton of bonus guest appearances from various characters across DC's universe. Also, I am biased, Dick tags along a lot, as he's still Robin at this point in time, and it's a great dynamic between the three of them.

Batman: One Bad Day: Mr. Freeze by Gerry Duggan and Matteo Scalera was easily the standout of the "One Bad Day" stories for me, it's set in the early days of Bruce & Dick as Batman & Robin and it has ADORABLE sunshine gremlin baby Dick Grayson, a genuinely touching story about Mr. Freeze and his wife, and some beautiful art.

Year One: Batman/Scarecrow (2005) by Bruce Jones and Sean Murphy is a fun look at the early days of Scarecrow, but also has absolutely banger baby Dick Grayson content, there's a scene where Bruce literally just grabs him by the scruff of the neck to haul him out of the way of a crowd about to stampede and it's the funniest thing because that 12 year old could destroy your face with his fists but also Bruce can literally pick him up one-handed. There's some great banter in there and it's just a super fun dynamic.

As you make your way through this list, keep the author/artist and year listings in mind, as often times there are multiple series under the same title and some are more relevant to what you're looking for right now than others. Like, there have been three different volumes of "World's Finest", but I want to direct you specifically to the 2022 version because I think that'll work better for you. Similarly, Nightwing 1996 is one of my faves, but I think the 2016 version will work better at drawing you in right now. This is definitely biased in favor of my faves, but I honestly think they work for good jumping on points for someone new to comics and who's coming from WFA and might not want to get into the messier stuff of the mainline comics right away. Hopefully, you'll enjoy these and anyone else who wants to transition from WFA to reading mainline continuity comics, feel free to join us! Yeah, comics fandom can be a bit of a pill sometimes, but genuinely there's a lot of really fun moments to love and the characters are so much more fun when you're reading their stories with all the history and depth behind them!

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #comics recs

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takeme-totheworld · 3 months

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I think what bothers me the most about the "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma" argument (which I've seen from many many different people, this is not aimed at anyone in particular) is that it's usually based on the idea that religious trauma = trauma based on being taught to believe in something imaginary, whereas in the GO universe God and Satan and Heaven and Hell are all real.

And like...yes, that's true and I understand where the people who say this are coming from.

But "being taught to believe in something imaginary" is actually not the basis for a lot of what I saw in Aziraphale that I identified so strongly with along religious trauma lines.

You know what things are a hundred percent real?

The church I was raised in and the heavy sway it holds over its members.

Institutional Christianity in general and its influence on the world in general and my country (the US) in particular.

The indoctrination I was subjected to, which was not only about the alleged existence of God, Satan, etc, but was also very much about inculcating us all with a very specific (and harmful) moral framework, and an extremely narrow-minded and tribalistic view toward the rest of society, and intensely harsh, self-punishing rules for being A Good And Righteous Person.

And all those other things, especially the self-punishing moral strictures, have stuck with me far longer and been much more difficult to excise from my brain than the fear of Hell, which I was actually able to dispense with fairly quickly once my brain made all the necessary "oh, this is all bullshit actually" connections.

So when I talk about my personal religious trauma, I'm talking about the trauma I experienced at the hands of a religious institution, which actually encompassed a much broader category of things than "being taught to believe in a scary imaginary mythology." Yes, that was absolutely part of it, and yes, that part was used as the basis to justify the rest of it—but in my case, it was in some ways the least impactful part.

When I see Aziraphale clinging to the belief that Heaven is "the side of truth, of light, of good," I see myself desperately clinging to my love and trust in the basic moral goodness and rightness of the church even when it was measurably harming me. When I see Aziraphale saying things like "it's not for us to understand" or all the weird propaganda about the virtues of poverty in the Edinburgh episode, I see myself parroting real-world ideologies I'd been indoctrinated with growing up, even in the face of factual evidence that life was actually much more complicated than that.

I was taught trust and loyalty toward a deeply harmful institution, I was taught to accept whatever that institution told me was the truth without questioning it, I was taught a bunch of factually wrong and deeply fucked up paradigms about how the actual world of human beings was supposed to work, and I had to work incredibly hard to unlearn all of that. And those are the things I see in Aziraphale that I identify with so intensely and so painfully. And all of those things are also religious trauma.

Anyway, I'm not trying to start an argument about this, just to articulate where I'm coming from. If you are a person who also has religious trauma, who doesn't personally see your experience reflected in Aziraphale, it's totally valid to say that! But to categorically state that it's therefore not religious trauma, or that religious trauma is the wrong metaphor for anyone to use here...just maybe don't do that?

If there's one thing that's become obvious to me in this fandom it's how many different lenses this story can be interpreted through, and it makes me feel icky to see the one that most resonates with me repeatedly and specifically called out as incorrect. By, genuinely, lots of different people, over and over again.

#good omens #aziraphale #personal #religious trauma #religious indoctrination

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incorrect-spideytorch · 18 days

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So, I’ve been thinking a lot about spideytorch lately (as I am one to do) and a question popped into my head:

What is the most important spideytorch comic panel?

There’s a ton of great options in my opinion, but I think there also is an answer (at least for me) so now I am going to subject all of you to my thought process. Get ready for a way to long post breaking this down.

The most obvious starting point has to be this classic

Johnny Storm is going full house husband for Peter Parker, I mean c’mon! add in the fact that he’s in his undies and the way that he’s leaning over peter… yeah this is a classic. This might be the most famous spideytorch panel out there, but I don’t think it’s the most important one.

Another classic (but more antagonistic?) one takes place, of course, at the usual place.

To me this is peak identity shenanigans and the stuff that fanfics are made of. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the complications that go into the conflicting way these two view identity, oh boy I could talk about that shit for hours, but as an individual moment, it doesn’t really crack most important for me, it needs a bit more affection (they’re very bad at affection sometimes).

Another panel that came to mind very quickly for me is this set.

Johnny literally only had to say his name and Peter knew exactly what he meant and what he needed. This is top tier levels of communication, both between them and from the creators to us. I think this is another one that I could talk about for hours. That being said, it doesn’t feel important enough to me.

A friend in the spideytorch discord server posed this panel as the most important spideytorch moment in the comics.

I’m just gonna put their quote in cause it’s great. “I think this is one of my favorite panels cause Johnny was just speaking generally and Peter was like ‘oh my god! Actual wise words form johnny’ but also, I love that this was a more important moment for Peter than Johnny.” I must say, this entry is extremely important to spideytorch and gave my choice a run for its money. I don’t have a huge reason for not making this one the most important, other than personal taste. For their relationship, this is a key moment and sets them on the path to actually being friends (at least on Peter’s end), but idk it just wasn’t doing it for me.

Another panel I was reminded of thanks to this submission was this moment.

It’s not quite as impactful as the past one by a long shot but I do think it’s important. After being rivals for so long, to see Johnny give a genuine heartfelt compliment to Peter is fantastic (haha). This feels like the other half of the previous set of panels. There we had Johnny encouraging a stranger and here he’s encouraging his friend.

Some other friends in the discord server suggested the moment that Johnny invites Peter over to watch his sex tape (yes this is canon).

(Not pictured, Peter swinging away and saying he needs to take a cold shower). Now I’m not saying that the most important spideytorch moment needs to be serious, but I think this moment might be too unserious to claim that title. This moment was huge for the fanbase because holy shit did, he actually say that, but for their relationship, I just don’t think it was as important as it was to us.

Now I do want to knock out a few honorable mentions that I would hate to miss.

First, this look given to Spidey by Johnny, I mean yeah, he’s in love.

And to balance the lovesick flirty scales I must expose Peter as well.

Next, this heartbreaking moment that basically admits to the audience that Peter’s world becomes chaos when he loses Johnny. That shit hits.

Of course, the moment that gave us the ship name.

A panel that lives in my head rent-free because honestly marvel what were you attempting to convey here other than the fact that Peter really wants to have hate sex with Johnny Storm?

To take us outside of our duo, this quote from Ben Grimm (EDIT: it’s was Peter’s clone Ben Reilly, which honestly only adds more drama), because honestly same.

And of course, I have to include the panel which showed us the first time (on page) that Peter told Johnny he loved him AND gave us canon proof that these two have “date night,” many a fic writer was fed well.

And how could we forget! THE USUAL PLACE! Literally any panel mentioning this is top tier because its so good, like the core of the fandom honestly.

Lastly, before moving on to my own more serious contenders I have to share this parallel that @sciderman shared because I love it.

Now to my serious contenders for the title of most important spideytorch panel (please remember this is all my opinion and I mean no shade). This will be a top 5, but just know some of these rankings are pretty flexible (even flexible with some panels from the beginning), and this question should not be taken as seriously as I am taking it, I am fully aware of that.

Number 5!

So, I know that I discounted the sex tape scene earlier because I didn’t think it was serious enough and it didn’t do enough for their actual relationship, but I had to include this one I’m sorry. A lot of this is personal taste but the implications here are *chefs kiss* The first time I saw this panel was actually on Pinterest with the caption “wait a second, did spider-man and the human torch have sex?” which says it all for me.

Beyond that, this moment also shows how they reach out to each other when they have problems. Strange children show up in Peter’s life and the first person he calls about it is Johnny. Again, this is not the most serious, but I love it. This moment shows the banter of their relationship, how they care about and rely on each other, and also potentially reveals that they’ve had sex. There’s a lot to take in.

Number 4!

I will be honest with you all, this moment is here almost entirely because Ben’s quote lives in my head rent-free. Everyone around them sees how they feel about each other besides them. When they were rivals others could tell they actually liked each other and when they became friends others could tell that it was deeper than that. I think I especially love this panel because it conforms that we’re not crazy for thinking there’s something there but also because Ben specifically cites the way Johnny looks at peter. That is very specific and says a lot. I can’t imagine Ben would say this if the looks Johnny gave Peter were purely platonic, and just ahhhh, there’s so much said here just in one line from Ben. There was of course the Ben moment earlier, which I also love, but something about this one, the more specific phrasing of it I think just shoots it up my rankings a lot.

Number 3!

If you’ve been following me for a while I don’t think this is a surprise at all, I have already done a very in depth post about this panel so I’ll keep my thoughts brief. Red Skull knows that hurting Johnny will hurt Peter, Peter’s Spidey senses go off FOR JOHNNY, and we are given so much angst potential, I love it.

Number 2!

This one is probably a more popular choice than my number one, and I totally get it. The excitement and joy bursting out of Peter when he finally realizes that Johnny is here, he’s real, and he’s alive really gets me. Plus, the added context to the uniform comment being that Johnny literally left Peter his family and his spot on the team in his will. The amount of pure love in this moment and its larger context is abundant, platonic or romantic, it’s there. I feel like everything I could say about this panel has probably been said before, but it is definitely worthy of being the most important spideytorch moment, even if I have one that beats it for me.

Number 1!

For those of you who don’t know, this panel comes from Peter visiting Gwen’s grave and talking to her. That fact alone breaks me in half but then the things he says to her shatter me. Every spider-man fan knows how much Gwen’s death broke Peter, it destroyed him to lose her. Just the fact that Peter admits Johnny brings part of him back is amazing (haha) because that is a hug feat. But then he shatters me even more with his final sentences. After Gwen’s death, we often get a peter who spends too much time as Spidey in order to avoid having to cope with Gwen’s death as Peter, but also as a way to cope with the loss (he’s a complicate man). Spideypool also gets a lot from that arc because of Wade’s reaction to Spider-Man not holding back as much and becoming less of a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and that’s true. The fact that Peter feels like he’s becoming who Spidey is supposed to be again when he’s around johnny is huge! But then! He corrects himself. He’s not Spidey again, he’s Peter. The real person, the man behind the mask, comes back. And then you get the final correction. He’s not just peter again, he’s *Gwen’s* peter again. He is the him that existed with Gwen when he’s with Johnny. That speaks volumes and breaks whatever parts of me are left. How am I expected to read this and not think that Johnny and Peter are soulmates?

Now, I will acknowledge that this is much more of a peter moment than a joint spideytorch moment, much like the moment suggested by discord friend earlier. If that disqualifies it for you as the most important spideytorch panel, I get it. However, for me that doesn’t matter mainly for one key reason. So many classic spideytorch moments show a lot of Johnny having feelings for Peter or making a move on Peter. There have been a lot of times when I’m trying to get a friend into spideytorch, and I feel like I have to clarify that its not as one sided as it seems. Johnny is much more out there with who he is and doesn’t hide his feelings very well (except maybe from himself). So, when we get any spideytorch moment that hones in on peter’s feelings and love for Johnny, that feels so huge to me. This moment alone proves that it isn’t one sided, Peter has deep feelings for Johnny, even if he’s not sure what they are yet, he knows that what they have is special, he wouldn’t be telling Gwen about it otherwise. While it may not be as famous of a spideytorch moment, its an important one, and for me it’s probably the most important one.

Anyway, this has been a way too long post about this topic but if you made it to the end thank you so much! I would love to hear other people’s thoughts on this topic so feel free to share those. Also, just a reminder that these are my opinions, and I am not in charge at all so don’t take it too seriously (unless you want to).

If you’re interested in hearing me, go more in depth on any of these panels (or any other spideytorch panels) shoot me an ask because I could honestly talk in depth for a while about most of these panels and I would love to do so. Thank you again for reading this way to long post and good night spideytorch nation.

#spideytorch #alt descriptions coming soon!#peter parker #johnny storm #peter x johnny #peter parker x johnny storm #mine :)#fantastic four #spider-man #marvel #comics #spideytorch meta #marvel meta #enjoy my chaos

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seat-safety-switch · 4 months

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Our world is full of things that we don't think about, but trust to work perfectly. If you ever talk to an astronaut for more than five minutes, invariably they will tell you about something that doesn't work properly in zero gravity. For instance, breathing. There's no air movement or gravity to pull the carbon dioxide away from your mouth, so you have to make a conscious effort to move around so that you don't just breathe in bubbles of your own exhaust all the time. That's a lot like my car's dicky head gasket, but that's beside the point.

My point is, this is freaky to us. Virtually every human being on Earth has not had to think seriously about "keep moving around a lot while you're breathing." We just get gravity and all that other good shit for free, and we never appreciate it. I for one am willing to say: thank you, gravity. Thank you for being around so that my house and its contents are not ejected into orbit.

Another thing that we are ungrateful for is cars (they're also not in space, barring some notable exceptions.) Yes, cars. Even if you work as a mechanic and don't actually trust these demon-infested internal combustion engines because you've seen the multitude of ways they ensorcel even the strongest minds, you still believe in the fiction that "a car" is one solid, continuous entity. Our brains are not good at thinking of them as thousands of different parts, assembled by hundreds of different humans, working together in unison in a reliable way for hundreds of thousands of miles. Thinking about it too hard will start the familiar cascade into an existential panic attack, which may very well be an evolutionary mechanism to keep our early Anthropocene ancestors from pulling apart perfectly good things and breaking gravity. Another system that's working as intended.

When this fiction is broken, when your car decides to shit out a rod on the highway or just not start in your apartment parking after being left out in the cold for four weeks, we become angry. How dare this thing that we relied on, that we believed in, not live up to our expectations. It takes a mature, experienced mind to remember: hey, this thing is very complicated, it's a miracle it works at all.

All this is to say, I hope that we didn't have to maintain gravity, because the previous owners of Earth didn't include an owner's manual or anything. Carbon dioxide is already a big enough problem as it is; I don't want to have to jiggle around constantly while I'm trying to sleep.

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leesmustardgarden · 7 months

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Gardener/Botanist Reader Headcanons

P x (gn) reader

A/N: Completely self indulgent. I love plants, flowers, mushrooms— any sort of flora mystical or otherwise. I think, considering how much was delegated to the puppets the need for gardeners would be less and less. That aside, people are stubborn when it comes to art and caring for such plants is, in my opinion, nothing short of art.

Warnings: Game spoilers just all around, P and Gemini are a little stupid in this one (I am very fond of them), Lots of bouncing around concepts, tell me if I need to add more

The art of gardening was dying amongst the people of Krat, despite its rich ecosystem and peculiar plants, as it had been delegated instead to the Puppets of the city

When the puppet frenzy set in, almost all of the knowledge gained from Krat’s flora died with its people and with its puppets

Except you had survived, taken in by Antonia in the hotel, and offered her your services as thanks for the safety and security the Hotel provided

You were close with Antonia, saw her almost as a peculiar aunt. In turn she was fond of you and loved to share any of Krat’s secrets during the few times she could muster the strength to visit the gardens or you took a break and stepped inside.

When P first came by and stopped at the inner gardens, you gave him a once over before bluntly telling him not to mess about the bushes. You weren’t otherwise perturbed by his presence.

One of the few things Antonia seemed to hesitate speaking about was Gepetto, and so you had your reservations about a puppet made by him. He seemed… nice, though. Polite. Definitely very sweet.

He had come to check out the puppet dummies Eugenié was talking about, and was intrigued by you.

You kept him coming back to the garden, but most times he’d make an excuse about wanting to try out a new weapon of sorts. Not that he needed to make one— as long as he didn’t out right hurt the plants you didn’t mind.

Honestly avoids touching the plants incase some complication arises and they die or something. Doesn’t want to disappoint you, the silly guy.

Every subsequent visit comes with his awkward (albeit endearing) attempt to get to know you, and what starts off as a tentative friendship blooms into mutual pining.

P is a quiet visitor when he’s in the gardens, content to ask a question and hear you ramble on for however long you want to.

That doesn’t mean he won’t indulge your questions.

He’ll spend just as long recounting his adventures in Krat if you ask for it, sheepish and sweet as he censors the more… unsavoury moments of his journey.

In game, your character gives a bit of exposition to the flora of Krat. You tell him the certain conditions some plants thrive in, talk about the weather conditions in relation to that, etc. but you also talk about the meanings of each one. It’s from you he learns to communicate through flora.

More than that though, when you mention something specific of certain flora, it becomes a little sidequest for him. He’ll take back a little piece of it to show you and you start trading him items every time he does.

Not wanting it to be a one-sided thing, you give him pressed flower charms, amulets, floral accessories, and even some shiny things you’d picked up like quartz.

The greatest reward is maybe like a little gardener costume. To match with you, you know.

And listen, whatever you give P, he treasures. If you gave him a spare gardening uniform he’d wear that the whole way throughout Krat he’m so silly.

There’s a lot of clumsy and endearing gestures from his end.

One time he accidentally misunderstands you and makes a bouquet asking for your hand in marriage and you about have a heart attack.

You explain both the message and meaning of the bouquet to him, and while he isn’t fussed or embarrassed at his mistake he makes note of it

As he progressively becomes more human, his expressions more lively and his voice more open, your relationship develops further.

His own interest in flora flourishes. He starts trying to record the plants he comes across somehow— either by learning how to draw or asking Venigni to make some sort of camera.

He often thinks of you when he finds a peculiar plant, wondering if it would be ok to take it to you. If he had the means to just take record of it instead he’d show that to you

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t get you flowers still though. He’ll pick out flowers while weighing in his mind if it’d disrupt the ecosystem too much, and once he has them he does his best to arrange them in a pretty manner.

Gemini actually helps him here, giving him ideas for things like the wrapping, telling him to do things like use newspapers or something of the like to bundle them up

At some point the two idiots genuinely consider breaking into an arts and crafts shop because Gemini thinks it might be a good idea, and P just doesn’t know enough to argue that it isn’t

“I mean, the shop is closed down right? Nobody would mind if we just stole a ribbon… or two! Nobody’s using them anyways!” — Gemini

When he regains Carlo’s memories, he feels a little embarrassed about that and refuses to ever mention it again. Gemini makes fun of both of them somehow without being ashamed

When even Gemini fails at figuring out how to decorate flowers, P goes to the other Hotel inhabitants

Sophia’s got such a lovely eye for them, and knows how to arrange a bouquet beautifully and loves to help, and Antonia finds the whole thing adorable and loves to tease P lightly but offers genuinely good advice

Polendina is the perfect butler of course, so he knows his bouquets and is happy to help with them, and while he’s seen metal more than he’s seen flowers at the factory, Pulcinella is just as good

God forbid he asks Eugenié or Venigni though. They might be great at what they do but they’ll put together the most foul colour arrangements known to man.

Eugenié finds out about one (1) poisonous plant and decides it’s a great idea to make a whole bouquet of them. Venigni just picks out the flowers he likes the most, or the ones that match with his outfit, without… really knowing how to match it to his outfit.

I don’t even want to bring up Geppetto. Man would probably sit P down and spend hours agonizing over the arrangement of the petals and pollen like the little control freak he is.

But it gives P a nice break from Krat’s troubles, and your joy at the bouquet makes it worth it every single time

By the end of it, the flowers spill into the hotel, spotting the place with life and colour that makes it feel like maybe the world isn’t as dead and gone as it might be

#lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #lop x reader #Lee’s writing ✍️

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chellestrash · 11 months

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Private Matters

Chapter IV (18+)

Cam Boy! Frank Castle x Female Reader

Story summary: After stumbling upon a cam website one night you quickly discover your favorite streamer. Unable to get the thoughts and images of him out of your mind you decide to become a supporter and the two of you grow closer to each other over time. Things get complicated when your close friend, neighbor and crush decides to express his feelings for you.

Chapter summary: Its finally the day. Your date with Frank is happening and you couldn't be happier. Everything is perfect...right? Well, everything except for a very small detail you can't get out of your head, and you're not sure how to tell him.

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, swearing, alcohol, slight angst.

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Thank you for all the support for this series i’m so so sorry it takes me so long to get the chapters out! I work, I’m busy i had a lot to do but it’s finally here! Chapter IV. I hope you’ll enjoy it, comments, reblogs and feedback are always so so appreciated, i love reading what you guys thing about it! Thank you @chelseasdagger for all the work and support!

Date with Frank.

That’s the first thing on your mind the moment you get out of bed that day and the main thing on your mind throughout the morning. It didn't really seem like one of those things you could shove to the back of your head and not think about it for the rest of the day. Whether you liked it or not, you kept coming back to the moment he asked you, and the moment you agreed. Your friend mentioned she couldn't possibly tell which one of you looked happier about it, and that little detail she was kind enough to point out, made your cheeks get warmer every time your brain reminded you about it.

“Stupid.”

You mumble out, catching yourself getting more excited about this than you'd like to admit.

“Morning.”

You send a quick text to Frank and the reply comes in almost instantly.

“Hey! Today still happening?”

You catch yourself smiling at your phone and quickly clear your throat, attempting to shake off the excitement again.

“Yeah, haven't changed my mind since yesterday.”

“Okay, good, can stop worrying now.”

“Frank castle worried? About me?”

You chuckle at his short response.

“Shut up.”

“So you have anything going on today?”

He follows up before you can type out an answer.

“Oh, just this date later on, probably around 8? You don't know the guy, you wouldn't like him. His name is Frank?”

“...”

“Smartass.”

You feel the butterflies in your stomach as you picture his slightly annoyed expression, and then roll your eyes at your own feelings. Sitting here, smiling at the texts on your phone? Really?

“So 8?”

He asks, and you send another message confirming the hour.

“See you at 8 then?”

“See you at 8.”

You smile again before grabbing your cheeks to fight back the smile.

“Stop it!”

You fight with yourself for another moment before setting your phone down on the table and deciding to take care of everything that needs to get done, just so you wouldn’t have to think about other things during the date. A little favor for your future self.

***

The day goes by relatively quickly, and before you know it, it’s time to start getting ready. You pick an outfit—nothing too fancy but not too plain either, a nice pair of flattering pants and a slightly tight-fitting shirt. You’re only grabbing a couple beers, some drinks…with Frank…your Frank. The realization makes you feel gradually more tense as the time approaches 8pm. You feel thankful when your phone goes off and quickly check the text that just came through.

“Leaving my place now.”

You read and chuckle at the thought of Frank, your next door neighbor, texting you the moment he leaves his flat to let you know he's on his way…in the hall, to pick you up.

Seconds later, Frank knocks on your door and you quickly make your way over to let him in.

“You got my text?”

He asks, pointing at his phone, and you shake your head in disbelief.

“Yeah, thanks for letting me know so I'd have time to get ready.”

Frank smiles, and something in that smile makes your knees a little weaker. His outfit is similarly casual to yours, jeans and a shirt you haven't seen him in before. Did he buy it?

“Oh, you're so welcome.”

Frank's eyes glance over you as he looks you up and down, unable to stop himself.

"Shit."

He whispers and you frown.

"That bad, huh?"

"What?"

Frank asks, confused, almost worried.

"You said ‘Shit’."

"What? Oh! Shit no! No no, no no just- I-I you-"

He sighs, dropping his head low before glancing up at you.

"Listen, I just - think you look great...it slipped out."

"Mhm."

You nod with a smile, deciding to stop teasing that poor man, at least for now.

"So do you, Frank."

"Naaah, not next to you."

Shaking your head again, you grab your phone and quickly check yourself in the mirror one last time.

“You ready?”

Frank nods and takes a step to the side, getting out of your way to let you out of your apartment.

“Yes ma’am.”

It would be a lie if you told yourself you never wondered what a date with Frank would look like. You never really thought it would actually happen, but you did wonder, you couldn't help it. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you've thought about him in that context. You had ideas, but you'd never think it would feel this…natural? Comfortable?

Frank seemed a bit nervous at first, just like he did a couple of days ago before actually asking you out, but that didn't bother you. You were nervous for a moment at first too, but quickly relaxed as the conversation flowed, the jokes landed and the music at the bar worked for both you and your date.

Frank was, actually, probably one of the best dates you've had in a while. Not sure why you'd expect anything different, you knew how good of a friend he was. The whole evening he looked after you, making sure you were safe and comfortable. His eyes never left you as he listened to your stories, answered your questions and laughed at your jokes.

The laugh reminded you of something, something or someone you couldn't really work out at that moment, but it sounded familiar. Not familiar in a way that you've heard Frank laugh before, of course you did, but…there was something more to that familiarity. Since you couldn't work it out, you decided to ignore it for the time being, focusing back on the man on the opposite side of the small bar table.

“You come here often, then?”

Frank speaks out a bit louder than usual, trying to talk over the live music, after looking around the interior of the place.

“Why? Wanna ask me out?”

You smirk, sucking the straw from your cocktail into your mouth. You watch his head drop with a loud laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, something like that.”

“Ahhh… I don't know if you're my type.”

“Oh really? What's your type, then?”

Frank looks up, waiting for you to keep talking.

“Oh you know, big guys, scary looking, assholes…you know what? That sounds a bit like you?”

He scoffs, looking off to the side, shaking his head before looking back at you.

“Really?”

You nod, a big smile still on your face.

“Yeah, but it's fine. Like I said, that's kinda my type.”

Frank smirks, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? And how's that working out for you?"

Your mouth falls open and he laughs loudly, you follow soon after.

"Well...I’d say pretty damn well, managed to get you out."

"Oh, you got me out?"

"Mhm."

You continue to tease him.

"Oh, that's interesting, yeah, that's good to know."

"Yeah?"

You ask innocently, and Frank laughs quietly, the crinkles by his eyes so prominent when you make him smile. He raises his hand to order another beer for himself and a drink for you.

***

“So, what's your type?”

You ask when Frank gets back from the bar with drinks for both of you.

“My type?”

You nod quickly, curious.

“Don't really have one.”

You give him the look that can only mean a slightly disappointed “really?” and he quickly continues.

“Why'd you wanna know? Wanna ask me out?”

He plays your card, and you feel your whole face lighting up.

“I don't knoooow, maybe? So, will you tell me?”

Frank takes a drink from the beer bottle and for a second you get lost in the way his lips wrap around the rim, his Adam’s apple moving with every sip, and you have to stop your thoughts from taking you somewhere else. He frowns, knowing you well enough to assume you wouldn't just give up on the question.

“Right, tell you what.”

He starts, scrunching up his nose before he bites into his lip. He spins you around, so you face the dart board on a wall on the other side of the bar.

“You win that, you get an answer “

You think about the offer and look back at him over your shoulder.

“Bit of a shitty move since I already told you mine.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a big smile, before giving you another moment to decide.

“What if I lose?”

You ask and he shrugs.

“You buy the next beer.”

You pretend to ponder on the offer for another moment before nodding slowly.

“Deal.”

***

At the end of the night, Frank offers you his jacket and you two make your way back to your building. Walking right by your side the entire time, Frank makes sure to keep your arms linked together. By doing this, he keeps you close, safe and warm the entire time. You think back to the many times you've walked this road on your own and feel thankful for having Frank by your side at this moment.

“Want me to walk you home?”

He asks when you stop by the door to his apartment out of habit.

“You mean to the other end of the hall?”

You point over your shoulder, and he tilts his head to the side with that goddamn smile. The smile that can make you so comfortable and so nervous at the same time, you feel insane sometimes.

“Yeah, okay, I could get jumped on my way there or something.”

You turn around and Frank follows, hands in his pockets, his shoulder touching yours as he walks by your side.

“Or trip.”

He points out, and you huff out a quiet laugh.

“I didn't drink THAT much.”

You lean on your door, resting your back against it and look up at the man in front of you.

“So.”

You nod towards your apartment.

“This is me.”

“Oh yeah?”

Franks inspects the door like he's seeing it for the first time.

“Mhm.”

You wait a moment, expecting him to start talking again. But Frank turns back to you, stepping forward, a bit closer now, looking down into your eyes. You feel your heart jump slightly, your pulse getting a little faster as your eyes drop to his lips before glancing back up into his gaze.

“Listen the-"

He starts, his brows furrowing as he tries to pick the right words.

“Was nice…the date, I mean I-you.”

He sighs. Looking off to the side, he shakes his head at his own words, before turning back to face you.

“You had fun?”

A simple question followed by a slight tilt of his head that makes him look probably the least intimidating you've ever seen him look. Almost like a puppy, trying to figure out the words spoken to them by their owner.

You nod, confirming your answer with a sly smirk.

“I meaaaan…could've been worse, you did good, Castle.”

“Yeah?”

Frank asks, and you catch him now glancing down at your lips.

“Mhm.”

You nod, it's gentle this time, and your lips part slightly as you decide to lean closer towards him.

“And you? Hmm?”

There's no real reason to ask now, not when you can clearly see the words fly over his head. A silent nod from him remains your only response as the distance between you two closes slowly.

“Mhm.”

He answers, and you chuckle, squinting your eyes as you lean your head to the side, now taking the lead in the conversation.

“Yeah?”

You nod, questioning him again, and Frank repeats your movements. His eyes are not leaving your lips; yours not living his, as you two move closer and closer together.

“So, do you-”

He starts, and you agree silently, your breathing speeding up as you feel your heart pounding harder in your chest now. Leaning back on the door, you hand the key over to Frank, and he unlocks it before pushing it open the moment you pull him into the kiss.

“Shit.”

Frank mumbles out your name, pulling you closer to him before kicking the door shut, his hand now resting on the side of your waist.

“You sure about this?”

“Frank, please?”

You mumble against him and feel his lips pressing against yours almost immediately. His hand rests on the side of your neck, his fingers brushing over the side of your jaw as he holds you close to him.

“Oh, shit”

He starts.

“Mmm.”

A quiet hum slips past your mouth as you feel his tongue pushing past your lips.

“Mmm, fuck-”

You whine despite your better judgment. Your hand drops between his legs and you rub over the bulge in his pants. Frank's hips push into your hand, and when you push your palm against him harder, his lips slip away from you. A loud grunt against the side of your neck.

“Shit, Sweetheart.”

The pet name almost makes you whine out loud, but you attempt to stop yourself as your thoughts conveniently send you back to one of the livestreams you've watched before.

Your eyes shoot open, and you shake yourself out of it, glancing down at Frank. His lips are still on your neck, making it easier to focus on him again.

You cup his face to tilt him up and Frank stands up, straighter in front of you now. Pulling you closer to him again, his lips find yours, and you two stumble towards the couch in the middle of your living room. Frank hooks one arm around your waist, his forearm and palm pushing against your back, before lifting you up.

You gasp, holding onto him as he sets you down on the couch. You lay on your back, your heart speeding up and your breathing shortening as you watched him unbuckle his belt. Your legs push together while your brain once again reminds you of a similar scene from one of the livestreams. You fight the urge to close your eyes and focus on the thought and, instead, reach out to gesture for Frank to come closer.

“Come here.”

You whisper under your breath, and Frank lets you pull him closer. Leaning over you, he spreads your legs open, pushing his thighs between yours before his hand holds your face again and the kisses resume.

Pushing back the guilt slowly rising inside you, you focus on the buttons of Frank's shirt, pushing your legs together slightly as you feel the weight of him grinding against you.

His hands slip under your shirt and you lift your arms up, allowing him to slip the fabric up and off of your chest. After tossing the shirt onto the floor, Frank quickly gets rid of his as well. His eyes jump around your face, and you fight the urge to avoid eye contact for a while before finally looking away.

“You okay?”

He sounds concerned, and his question makes you feel even worse. You can't explain it, not now, not here. You're not even completely sure if you'd be able to explain this properly if he wasn't kneeling between your legs with his cock hard against his pants, panting loudly as he waits for your answer.

You nod quickly, giving him a not-so-convincing smile, before scolding yourself in your own head.

“Yeah, yeah.”

You buck your hips up slightly, and Frank watches you move underneath him. The smile is gone now, so you assume he suspects something. With his hand brushing up and down the side of your body, fingers drawing on top of your ribs, he leans over you, his lips right on your neck again. You tilt your head off to the side, inviting him to deepen the kiss, and he follows. Attempting to help yourself focus on what's happening, you cup his face in your palm and tilt it up, kissing him fast and hard, hoping it'll help.

Why couldn't you just focus on this? Why did he have to somehow remind you of those moments you've seen before? Why couldn't you just stop your brain from making you think about the guy from the website? You weren't sure, but you knew you wanted this now, here, and with Frank. You did it; you've been wanting to for a while now, but somehow something didn't feel right. The guilt you felt about letting your mind slip to another guy while Frank was right here with you didn't allow you to focus on this moment, on what was happening, on what was in front of you, and on him.

You still wanted this; you felt good, you wanted Frank, but with your thoughts racing through your mind faster and faster, you felt your body gradually shutting off.

“Frank?”

You pull away quickly. His lips move down to your neck and he hums against your skin. You tilt your head back and whine quietly at the feeling before the guilt hits you again.

“Frank, stop just-”

You start again, this time pushing on his shoulder slightly to get his attention, and he pulls away immediately. Raising his hands in the air with an apologetic expression and worried glance, he stops everything he was doing.

“You okay?”

The softness of his voice makes the guilt skyrocket, and you feel the need to apologize.

“I'm sorry-”

“Hey, no, no, don't you-”

Frank sits up on the couch, moving away from you in order to give you as much space as you need in case he did something wrong, overstepped a boundary, or hurt you.

“Did I-”

You don't give him a chance to finish the question, not being able to think about him blaming himself for this.

“No! No, no, Frank, oh my god, no it-”

Hiding your face in your hands, you attempt to calm yourself down. The whole situation feels so ridiculous that you don't even know how to begin to explain it to him.

“God no, Frank, it's only my fault.”

“No, sweetheart, don't-hey, listen to me if I-”

That goddamn pet name. He swallows hard, and you watch his eyes flutter across your face.

“I-I-I hurt you.”

“No, Frank.”

“In any way.”

He continues, speaking over you.

“If I did, you just tell me, okay? Just, just tell me, so I know what I did and what-”

"No, it's me! It's me, Frank, I-"

He looks up, letting you talk this time. You speak loudly, thinking through the words you're about to say in an attempt to explain this ridiculous situation and the heavy, guilty feeling now stuck right in the middle of your chest.

“There's a guy.”

You swallow hard, knowing how dumb that sounds considering what the “guy” does.

“I talk to... sometimes I...I don't know why this is so stupid.”

“A guy?”

Frank repeats your words. He doesn't sound angry; he doesn't really sound like anything if you think about it.

"Yeah, I don't even know him like that, I mean, I do, but I…”

“From the bar?”

He attempts to guess, and it catches you slightly off guard.

“What? No, oh MY god, NO?”

You give him a disgusted look, shaking your head, and he scoffs quietly. The atmosphere seems to be loosening slightly.

“You think of me that bad, Castle?”

You joke, and he just shakes his head softly.

“So…”

You proceed with your explanation.

“A guy I talk to sometimes and we…”

You look at Frank, hoping he'd understand whatever broken-up sentences you manage to throw at him, even though it seems nearly impossible.

“Hook up?”

He guesses again, wrong.

“...No!"

"Sweetheart, you gotta give me something."

"It's just like...phone, video stuff, I guess.”

You finally get it off your chest. Feeling fucking terrible about the whole thing, you stare down at your hands, picking at your fingers as you wait for him to say something, anything.

A scoff. A scoff and a loud giggle is what you get. Turning your face in his direction immediately, you find yourself unsure of what to say or how to comment on his reaction.

“Phone stuff? Jesus… Christ, you...had me thinking."

You can't believe him.

Your jaw drops at this man's audacity, and you have to stop yourself from commenting on it.

“What? I had you thinking, what?!”

“Thought it was something serious!”

He laughs, and so do you, still unable to believe him.

“You asshole!”

You push him, and he leans to the side slightly before moving back closer to you.

“Oh my god.”

You cup your face in your hands and take a second to question all your previous life choices that somehow lead you to this very moment.

“You probably think I'm fucking crazy.”

You finally speak up, turning your face slightly to watch him.

“Nah.”

Frank shakes his head before turning to face you.

“I think it's sweet.”

You can't stop the smile. The corners of your lips rise as the overwhelming tension and anxiety leave your body, and you both sit in silence for another moment.

“Sorry I fucked this up.”

You speak quietly after a moment of silence. A deep sigh follows as you rethink what you just said, feeling the guilt take over your mind again.

Frank frowns, his eyebrows pull together as he silently disagrees with your words.

“Fucked what up?”

“The day? The evening? The date?”

“You didn't fuck up more than me. Late, spilled the beer, lost at the goddamn darts.”

You cover your mouth, but the quiet chuckle slips past your fingers at the situation from only a couple of hours ago. Frank quickly turns to face you, his finger pointing right at you in a threatening way.

“Don't.”

He whispers, and you lift your hands above your head, attempting to prove your innocence.

“We won't talk about that.”

He mumbles under his breath, frown still on his face, and you nod with a smile.

“I promise.”

The tone of your voice makes the corner of his lip lift slightly before he turns to face you again. His features are softer now, there's no sarcasm or irony, just Frank. He sighs quietly, and so do you.

“You should rest.”

He speaks quietly. It's not a whisper, but it feels like one, quiet and gentle, comforting, and you watch as he stands up, leaving you alone on your couch. You second guess your choice to tell him all of this one more time, longing for him to stay a little longer before quickly pushing yourself off the couch and following him to the door. Frank zips up his pants, buttons his shirt and steps out into the corridor. You stay hidden behind the door since you chose not to cover yourself with your pants after you two stopped making out. Everything indicated that he's leaving, he's out of your apartment now, the date is over, this didn't work out and yet…the conversation continues.

You stand in the doorway, your quiet words fill the corridor with the floor both you and Frank live on, but they're not loud enough for anyone to understand them clearly. Not loud enough for anyone to interrupt. The conversion quickly turns into short chuckles and gentle laughs and when Frank glances up at you with that one smile, you feel yourself breaking apart.

“You want to…stay over for a bit longer, actually?”

You ask, and he shakes his head with a quiet scoff.

“I don't know, you got beer?”

“Wine.”

He nods.

“What kind?”

“Rosé.”

You answer, fighting back a little smile as he pretends to be impressed.

“Oh, shit! Hardcore stuff.”

You shake your head, visibly offended, and pull the door open some more, inviting him back inside.

“At least if we get hammered, I don't have to walk far.”

He points out, and you roll your eyes jokingly, your body relaxing as you sigh deeply, relieved.

You spend the next couple of hours on your couch with Frank. It's not awkward, it's not upsetting, it's not…disappointing and somehow neither of you mention or even think about what happened in the same spot not even hours ago. With a decent amount of alcohol in your body, the tiredness slowly begins to take over. You lean into Frank, resting your head on his shoulder, and he doesn't protest. He even sits up slightly and wraps his arm around your waist in an attempt to make you more comfortable. With the heat of his body right beside you, you let your eyes fall shut, unable to fight the tiredness any longer.

“You wanna…try the date thing again some other time?”

Exhausted from the anxiety, adrenaline and alcohol, you snuggle up into him and without the energy to accidentally mess this up, you answer with exactly how you honestly feel. You whisper out a quiet- “Mhm. I’d like that.”.

“Yeah?”

Frank slowly rubs your shoulder with his palm.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Frank feels his muscles relax under the weight of your body. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head before whispering -“Goodnight, sweetheart.”