#Artem Wing/MC

[angstmongertina]

loved in return

Hey, might as well post it here too in the hopes for more dopamine.

We can still post smut on tumblr, right? That’s still a thing? IDK I haven’t written any in ages.

Inspired by the end of Artem’s second bday event (not the card, I promise), though I have been working on it for over a year, whoops.

Cross-posted to AO3.

Do note that this is rated M. :)

She knows from previous experience that it takes about fifteen minutes to get to Artem’s building from hers. At this point, the route, each road and turn, each traffic light and stop sign, even the dance of the shadows from the streetlights across her face, are imprinted in her mind, in the way she subconsciously shifts to adjust to each lane change and turn. But even so, this time, the dark road stretches unending, an eternity in each second, each slow breath.

Each frantic, yearning heartbeat.

Her phone, clutched in her hand, its screen counting down the minutes, seconds, until she sees him again, seems to burn with the memory of his call, of the rasp of his gentle voice in her ear and the realization that the night is still young, that his birthday is not yet over. That she cannot leave him to spend the rest of it alone.

Not when she can be there.

Not when she can be with him.

The driver says nothing, but there is no need to; he must be able to sense her energy, to sense the tension that has her almost shaking, fidgeting with the soft wool of the keychain—still not enough, as she stares into the distance towards him. Towards where she should be.

Towards, perhaps, where she belongs.

When her ride comes to a stop, she is out the door before she is even fully aware of it herself, waving her thanks at the driver as he chuckles under his breath. She can thank him properly later, when she gets a chance to sit down and focus, but for now, she has someone far more important to see.

She lets herself in with the spare key that he gave her—for emergencies, he had said, with that familiar blush on his face, but she’s already used it once today and somehow she doesn’t think he’ll mind—and can only laugh at the tremble in her hand, missing the lock once, twice, before it finally, finally catches and twists under her fingers.

Even before she steps into the room, she can hear hurried footsteps down the stairs and a familiar gentle voice, and she freezes as he rushes into view, one hand still holding his phone to his ear while concern and confusion war openly on his face.

He skids to a stop, opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, she closes the distance between them and throws her arms around his neck, swallowing both his question and his soft noise of surprise. For a moment, he stiffens, and then she feels his arms curl around her waist, pulling her even closer as he returns her kiss with equal fervor.

Without thinking, she presses against him, feels the solidness of his chest, the tenderness of the hand that shifts to the back of her head, the warmth of his lips against hers, until she is lightheaded, almost swaying when she finally pulls away to fill her burning lungs with air.

Whether it’s from the lack of oxygen or just him, it’s hard to be sure.

“I…” The word is more rasp than anything and he shakes his head, clears his throat, though it does little to disguise the hoarseness of his voice, the heaviness of his breathing. “I’m not complaining, but why are you here? Did something happen? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” She reaches up, brushing the faint crease between his eyes with a light touch until he relaxes. “I… I just missed you.” She feels more than hears his chuckle, the low rumble against her chest as he leans down to press his forehead against hers.

“I missed you too.” A gentle finger caresses her cheek, traces a warm path against her skin, and she finds herself having to fight a shiver as it skims along her jawline, trailing down her neck to settle against her chin, tipping her head back for another soft kiss. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She huffs a laugh into his mouth, feels his lips curl into an answering smile, before leaning back, just enough to meet his gaze with a cheeky grin. “I never would have noticed.”

“Oh you…” He shakes his head, but the feigned exasperation is belied by that familiar affection in his eyes, tucked into the corners of his mouth and the gentleness of his voice, that fills her chest with the warmth of his devotion, and this time, this time, she can give into temptation and cut off his sigh with another kiss.

Finally.

It isn’t until she feels the question in his attention that she realizes she said it out loud, and she coughs, turning her head away. “It’s nothing. Just… the way you say that…”

His answering chuckle is low and knowing, enough to set off a spark in her belly, and she pouts, even as she fights off the urge to kiss that smugness—and any thought, really—out of his mind. “I suppose that is something I will have to keep in mind then.”

She snorts, though she can’t help but tighten her arms around his neck. “As if you expect me to believe that you didn’t already know.”

It’s a rare thing to see an expression that is somehow both bashful and smug, but he still manages it all the same, and she rolls her eyes, even as she gives into the temptation to kiss that stupidly self-satisfied look off of his face.

That, it turns out, works much better.

She is almost wondering whether she can forgo conversation entirely, this or other, in favor of more pleasurable activities, when he breaks away, leading her to sit on the couch before she has even had time to process his sudden absence, and turns to fuss with his collar.

“You must be tired. Why don’t you rest for a bit? Do you want something to drink?”

She frowns as he turns away, though it’s still not enough to hide the burning crimson lighting up his ears. “Artem…”

“Maybe tea? Why don’t I make some tea for us—”

“Artem!” Before he can run away, she grabs his arm and he freezes, a faint look of panic darting across his face, which she pointedly ignores. “I didn’t come here to make more work for you.”

He frowns, turning to cast a confused gaze over her. “I know, but—”

“But nothing.” She can feel the heat creeping up her face at her conviction, setting already flushed cheeks even more ablaze, but she ignores it, ignores everything but his small smile, but the shine of those bright blue eyes, familiar and gentle and so very dear. “Artem, I came here to be with you. I want to finish celebrating with you. To take care of you, like you do for me.”

His brows draw into a slight frown. “You already have. You already do, I—”

She reached up to press a finger against his mouth, feels the heat of his protest in his breath, the surprise and acquiescence in the way his warm lips still against her finger. “Not like that.”

“Oh,” he says, and then again, “Oh.” His eyes dart to her mouth and then away again, his face turning even more red than hers feels. “You don’t have to. I mean, I just…” He hesitates, giving a light, somewhat forced, cough. “Are you sure?”

She smiles, getting up to move, slowly, carefully, back into his space. “Do you trust me?”

“Without question.” The reply is instantaneous, heavy with the gravitas he puts into all of his confessions, and she can feel her heart twinge at the realization, at the responsibility, the power, she has been entrusted with.

In response, she steps closer still, into his ever-waiting hold. Looping her arms once more around his neck, she presses herself against him, feels more than hears his low groan muffled against her lips, the sharp inhale as she shifts, and she has to swallow down a soft noise of her own to speak. “I promise,” she murmurs into his mouth, “I want to.”

Her words seem to snap the last of his control; he pulls her even tighter against him, but with that same hesitancy, that same gentleness, that characterizes his every gesture. She moves forward again, pressing her advantage until he’s backed against the couch and it’s his turn to sit, watching her with wide eyes as she moves to straddle his lap.

“We…”

She grins, taking advantage of her new position to brush her lips over his jawline, the curve of his ear, and relishing in the shiver it draws. “Yes?”

He clears his throat, though it does little to hide the flush in his cheeks, the heat lingering in his eyes as he swallows. “We should move this upstairs.”

Smirking, she shifts, feels his shudder as she adjusts her weight against him. “Okay.”

For a moment, it looks as though he means to pick her up, but she pulls away before he can move, sliding back until they are linked only by their hands, his fingers wrapped tightly around hers, even as he stares at her with barely disguised need.

They’ve barely made it up the stairs before she’s back in his arms, kissing him hungrily, desperately. She’s not entirely sure who moved first, but it doesn’t matter, not with her fingers buried in his hair, curled in the stiff fabric of his shirt collar.

She advances into the room, backing him step by step to the bed, where she finds herself once again straddling him, a mess of cloth and bodies and limbs, but she doesn’t care.

How can she, when she manages to finally free him from the shirt and gets to run her fingers across the smooth skin and strong muscles of his chest, the evidence of his morning swims clear across the valleys contouring that pale expanse?

It is not the first time she has seen him bare before her, but even so, she can’t help but stare, drinking in the sight, and the knowledge that this beauty, that he, flushed and wanting and waiting, is for her eyes and her eyes alone.

What an honor.

What a privilege.

Gently, she pushes him onto his back and runs her fingers down his chest, watching it tense and tremble under her touch. His breathing is heavy, one hand clenched in the blankets while the other skims over her back, her arm, in distracting patterns that she has to make an effort to ignore.

Instead, she lets her mouth follow her hand, down from his lips to skim his jaw, and then lower still, against the soft skin of his neck. She kisses his pulse point, feels more than sees the bob of his Adam’s apple, the low moans she coaxes out with lips and fingers. Slowly, reverently, she traces along the planes of his chest, and then lower still to run along his slender waist, once, and then, at his sharp inhale, again with her lips.

When the hand hovering around her waist tightens its grip, fingers pressed firmly into her skin, she pulls back immediately, turns her attention back to his face in sudden panic, but it is not discomfort that meets her gaze. No, instead, she finds the parted lips, mussed hair and shallow breaths, and grins, even as she fights the growing heat in her own belly.

“Do you like this?” she murmurs into the soft curve of his ear, allowing her lips to brush against the heated skin with the same featherlight touch that she trails along his stomach. The question is more teasing than genuine, his body’s answer clear enough in the way he strains towards her touch, in the need and wonder in his eyes as she toys with his waistband. “May I?”

His only answer is a low moan of her name, half-hoarse groan, half-desperate plea, but his meaning is clear enough. Still, she waits, fingers light and teasing. “Are you sure?”

“Please…”

She kisses him in response, swallows his gasp as she lets her hands move, slowly, gently, in their task, sliding along the toned thighs, gliding across the slender calves. When he moves to help, she grabs his hands, pins them down long enough that he can understand her: he is not to do anything, not today.

Today is her turn to take care of him.

After a moment, she can feel him relent, his body relaxing, waiting. Instead, she sits back on her heels, admiring the view, reveling in the effect that she has on him with wonder and satisfaction. He lies before her, flushed and gasping, face full of warmth and need and love, and she can only bite her lip at the realization of the trust she has been granted, of the honor she has been granted.

It isn’t until he shifts, her name a hoarse plea from his lips, that she grins, shaking herself out of her stupor to brush her palm against him. He trembles beneath her touch, and she grows bolder, kissing him again as she curls her fingers around the length of him, gentle but firm.

She swallows his groan as her free hand traces light patterns on sensitive skin, drinking in his every noise and reaction, as sweet as nectar and twice as heady. He is not verbally profusive, but she knows him well enough to read meaning from each gasp and twitch, each moan and shudder. She has always been a quick learner and she’s never had a lesson so intuitive, a study so perfect.

It is intoxicating.

He is intoxicating.

She continues her ministrations, her careful, thorough exploration of him, until he alerts her with a muffled cry that he’s close, shifts a hand from its tight grasp on the sheets to curl gently around hers, encouraging without demanding. His every exhale is a plea, a prayer, against her lips and she slows her movements, feels more than hears him gasp and stiffen, and pulls back to take it all in, to take him in, naked, vulnerable, and hers. All hers.

When he falls apart with a gasp of her name, she is sure she has never seen anything so beautiful.

They get cleaned up in the comfortable silence of the lingering warm glow, punctuated only by his heavy breathing, slowly returning to normal. There is no need to speak, not when she knows, when they both know, that there’s nowhere else she would rather be, nowhere else that she would stay, than here. With him.

Always with him.

It’s not until she’s half-dozing in his arms that she remembers and thinks to break the quiet that has settled over them like a quilt, languidly rolling over to meet his own, sleepy gaze. “Oh, I forgot.”

“Hmm?” She hums softly as he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, his arms shifting lazily to accommodate her new position. “Forgot what?”

“Who were you on the phone with earlier?”

He freezes, a look of horror wiping away the pleasant satisfaction on his face.

When he doesn’t answer her, instead continuing to stare into the darkness towards the stairs, she frowns. “Artem?”

As if on cue, her phone rings with a missed message, echoing throughout the room and she groans, slipping out from under the covers to where her phone had fallen onto the floor, forgotten in the heat of their earlier passion. Frowning, she swipes at it…

Only to find a voicemail waiting for her, from a very, very familiar number.

“Oh.”

Torn between embarrassment and amusement, she navigates to the missed calls, where she finds the notification and taps before she can think otherwise.

Professor An’s calm voice seems to fill the space between them, quiet but with a faint thread of amusement clearly audible. “I had guessed it was you who visited but this certainly confirms my suspicions. I just wanted to let you know that there’s no need to call me back.” Her chuckle held just a tinge of mischief. “I expect it’ll be too late for a phone call by the time you get this message anyway. Just tell my son to hang up the phone before he drops it next time. And if it’s still before midnight by the time you’re done, do wish him a happy birthday for me.”

Before she can even begin to organize her thoughts, he makes a muffled noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. Raising an eyebrow, she turns to find him with a hand covering his face, though it does not fully disguise the flush staining his cheeks and brightening his ears, and finds herself fighting a strange urge to laugh.

“That answers that question, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles in reply, half-blocked by his hand, and she bites her lip to keep her mirth contained as she wiggles her phone at him.

“Did you want me to get yours as well?”

He shakes his head, though she can see a barest hint of a smile hidden behind his fingers. “No, we can get it in the morning. Come back, before you get cold.”

She looks down at her naked body, deliberately posing herself in the faint moonlight. “What’s wrong? Not enjoying the view?”

“Oh you…” He chuckles, even as he reaches an outstretched hand towards her. “You know that’s not true.”

Faced with his typical sincerity, she can only relent, taking his hand and letting him tug her back into his arms. “Of course I know.” Grinning, she snuggles closer, resting her head on his chest as she looks up to meet his gaze. “Even your mother knows, if that call was any indication.”

She is rewarded with him dramatically dropping his hand back on his face, though it doesn’t quite disguise his quiet huff of amusement. “She will never let me live that down.”

“Probably not. But it could be worse, you know.”

“How so?”

“She could have been worried and come over to check on you instead.”

This time he audibly groans and she gives in to the urge to laugh, tucking her face into his shoulder to hide an undignified snort and feeling him shake with his own quiet laughter.

When she finally manages to regain her control, it’s to find him reclined back, ears tinged red but with a faint smile still lingering on his lips. Catching her gaze, he raises an eyebrow. “Are you done now?”

“Yup!” She moves closer still, letting her head rest against the crook of his neck as she smiles against his skin. “At least for now. Though she is right about one thing.”

“Oh?” He shifts until she can meet his eyes, soft and sleepy and so full of gentle affection that she finds herself nearly speechless. “What’s that?”

She clears her throat, shifting up and pressing a light kiss to his lips. “It’s not yet midnight. Happy birthday.”

He smiles and she feels his arms tightening around her, keeping her gently in place. “So it is. And it has been,” he murmurs, before kissing her again. “Thank you, my love.”

[andminnequin]

I’m so sorry I’m still on Book Four I know I’m lazy but here take meme

[carameatea]

Where the Heart Belongs

[surely-galena]

I really like the new sprites for the Dragonbreath event, it’s really refreshing to see an art update (in the sense that the usual sprites sometimes contrast the new art because of how long it’s been since the game came out):

I do want to shoutout this one expression from MC though. She’s so silly (affectionate)

And also this line from Luke because I think it’s great that he knows what metagaming is in the first place (plus the fact that it’s directed towards Artem, who has probably expressed the most discomfort so far, is even funnier)

[laciefuyu]

Across the Universe — A Universal Constant

[nicnsmth1]

love and deepspace AND tears of themis feat my mc and my best friend in rosa's fit🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[wetsocksinbed]

as a zayne girlie the latest update of lads really did something to me

[softxsuki]

(For Artem Letter - 2)

For tone, I'd love to see Artem's letter get emotionally messy. I'd like to see him get introspective, pragmatic, and honest with himself especially about how he feels about his failed attempt to get reader back, how he feels when he's reading all of her entries, and his resolve to get her back.

As for location, I'd like to think he's in his study of your shared home: jotting notes into his legal pad, that evolve into writing a letter of his feelings and feeling them, so that he can then focus on the task at hand - finding you.

(I think I covered everything in your critera with the two asks, but if more information is required, please let me know.)

Angsty Letter from Artem to His Missing Wife

This event is now CLOSED, but you can view the masterlist for the other letters here.

| Pairing: Artem x Fem!Reader | Genre: just pain | Post-Type: Letter | Word Count: 540 |

Warnings: hopelessness, abuse (not from artem), depression, kidnapping, lack of sleep

Note: This was sooooo different from anything I’ve ever written before. In a characters POV instead of Y/N’s and…I’m not mad at it. I’ll be so real though, I have no idea what this is referencing…I haven’t played in a long time, I think I left off at chapter 10? Somewhere around there. Def gotta jump back in soon. But hopefully I did okay! This is the last post for this v-day letter event! Big thank you to everyone who participated and I hope you all enjoyed your letters. Until next year <3

The dark circles under Artem’s eyes were heavy with lack of sleep and regret.

He had been so close to finding you, only to be too late. Those criminals were always one step ahead. His beloved, oh how much you were probably suffering. 

He groans, slamming his fist down onto his desk which was dimly lit by the lamp on the desk. It had been months of following pointless clues that led to nowhere, and when he finally found the place you were being held at, they had fled once more with you in tow. He felt hopeless, guilty, desperate to find you again, to hold you in his arms. 

He hopes to wake up one morning just to realize it was all one big horrible nightmare, and you’ll be there peacefully sleeping by his side, and he’d gently brush the hair out of your face and press a kiss to your forehead just like he always did.

But no, every morning was cold and bitter. The empty spot in his bed was haunting to look at, so he spends sleepless nights in his office instead.

It was overwhelming, everything he felt inside. He had to get it out somehow, though you’d never receive it, he needed to feel like he could speak to you, so he did what he could–he flipped open his notebook filled with notes on many cases, and mostly filled with clues and an endless connection of evidence that would hopefully lead him to you;

To My Dear Wife,

It’s been too long since I last saw you, held you, kissed you. I…don’t know what to do with myself. The only thing keeping me going is the prospect that you're still alive out there, alive and waiting for me to find you. And I will. I swear I will. No matter how quickly they try to run, I’ll be quicker and I’ll find them. I’ll find you.

I saw them, the letters you wrote…you must have been trying to keep yourself sane after being locked away and experimented on. You’re so strong…my Y/N, my love, my heart. You held on for so long and I know you’re out there still fighting. 

I have your ring you left behind in that cell, when I find you, I’ll place it back on your finger and hold you close. I’ll never let anything happen to you again, just please be safe. Please make it back to me in one piece.

Even after months of not seeing you, my love has only grown more vigorous. I yearn to hear you again, scolding me for staying up late on cases, making sure I eat enough through the day when I have a big case to work on, all the little things I didn’t appreciate enough.

I’ll find you, I promise. So please be okay. Please hang on a little longer, my love. I’m so close to finding you. I swear I’ll bring you home.

Always yours,

Artem

He sighs at the words in front of him, glad to get those feelings out on paper.

Now it was time to focus. He’d find those bastards that took you away, and bring you back home, no matter how long it took.

Posted: 2/14/2025

[kitsuga]

The Rain Giveth, the Rain Taketh Away. {Artem Wing x Reader/MC}

Description: 

A fic in which Artem finds the warmth he’s been told he (and the rain) could never have. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tags: fluff, power outage, storms, mc/reader is NOT rosa!, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, artem wing x reader/mc, tears of themis/tot, artem wing

Word Count: 2,122

A/N: Written on: November 19, 2021 

I know the title sounds ominous but I promise everything will be alright; i just love artem man idk what else to tell you 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Hm?” 

Artem looked up from the papers sprawled out across his desk whenever the lights above him flickered. He thought nothing of it and returned reading for a moment, until it happened once more just a bit longer than the first. Glaring at the lights above, he watched as it did it one more time before he finally turned towards the large windows in his office. He knew it was dark because he’d been working late, but it was much darker than usual as he took a peek through the curtains. 

Heavy downpour and furious winds whipped against the glass as he stood for a moment to take it all in. Such weather would have been nice to sit at home wrapped up in the comfort of blankets or by a small lantern or candle to read a good book, but was bad news for the situation he found himself in; not only would driving in this be extremely dangerous, but the flickering lights could only mean one thing-- 

The room around him went black, as did the small, vague lights of surrounding buildings and streetlamps that he could make out through the drops on the window. A loud groan simultaneously came from the other room. 

A power outage meant automatic shutdown. No Power, no chance of driving—all ways to say Artem wasn’t going home that night late or otherwise, to which, it was his turn to groan. 

“Hey, Artem?” A voice rang out in the dark, clumsily opening his office door. “You’re still here, right?” 

“MC... Yes, I’m still here. Please be careful—wait right there.” 

Artem tried to fumble around his desk as quietly as he could, looking for his phone. Once he found it and turned on the flashlight, he carefully pointed it towards MC, careful not to blind them. They looked exasperated—maybe even a hint of annoyance—at their predicament; he was sure his face closely mirrored theirs. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine; I felt my way over to your office because I thought you were still here—is the emergency generator not going to kick on?” 

Artem stared at them for a moment before slumping down into his chair gently—he knew there was something he was missing; maintenance had cancelled their appointment to fix the backup generator a few days before. Well, it wasn’t like he could exactly drive home anyway, but a cup of coffee would have done wonders for him at the moment; he sighed heavily. 

“It... hasn’t been fixed. There isn’t going to be any power, I’m sorry MC.” 

“Hmm,” they hummed, finding their way to the chair across from him. They leaned back fairly relaxed and shrugged. “It’s not like I could make my way home in a taxi in this weather either, I suppose. At least I’m stuck inside rather than out.” 

He smiled to himself—they thought the same thing he had, and for that, he felt his ears grow a bit warmer; they grew extremely hot whenever he came to realize the two of them were stuck there together, however. He awkwardly cleared his throat and straightened his tie to give his hands something to do. 

“That’s true. Better to be dry and safe than otherwise.” 

“And besides, at least I’m not alone—I've got you!” 

Artem tried his best not to choke on his own nerves. He cleared his throat once more and turned away, hoping the dark of the room would save face for him. Their words played over and over again in his mind, floating softly like a melody while he tried to analyze every hint of emotion that may have been present; over-analyzing it, however, backfired on him. As he took his time thinking, MC took his silence in a way he wished they hadn’t. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sure that was weird to say—I mean, of course, I’m sure you’d rather be alone to get your work done—or, you know, I’m not trying to assume I’m a pleasure to hang out with when you could be at home, or--” 

“No, I’m... I’m glad I’m not alone, too. I’m... very glad that you’re here with me.”  

Artem cut them off, the features of his face being softly illuminated by the flashlight’s glow to add another layer of gentleness to his eyes and the small smile that graced his lips. He could see the shine of their eyes, the phone’s light giving away the subtly to their shock, and certainly not helping them hide the fact they were a little embarrassed by his sudden admission. They turned their head with a false pout—he could tell because though their lips were pursed, the corners of them turned upright—and crossed their arms, looking at him with a sideways glance; he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling any wider. 

“Well, since you’re stuck here with me now, what should we do?” 

“Good question.” Artem picked up his phone and looked at the battery percentage. “We might want to start by finding some sort of lantern, or actual flashlight. This isn’t going to hold out much longer.”  

“I think there’s one in the emergency kit underneath the lounge’s sink?” 

“Then let’s check there, first.” 

He stood up quickly, moving to the other side of his desk before MC could get up and potentially stumble. Pointing the flashlight downwards towards their feet both to give them an idea of where they needed to stand and make sure he wasn’t blinding them, he offered up his hand cautiously, hoping he didn’t look like a fool. 

“Here, take my hand. I don’t want you running into things and possibly hurting yourself,” he cleared his throat of nerves, “it’ll be easier this way than if you try to follow from behind.” 

“Thanks!” 

Artem pushed all thoughts out of his mind; he was working on autopilot now. He would not think about their hand within his own—no—no thoughts about that whatsoever. It’d be ridiculous-- to be so fixated on something so trivial, as if he were in one of those high school romantic drama movies. Instead, he made a beeline for the lounge, careful not to drag MC along carelessly.  

With them manning the flashlight, he managed to find the lantern, as well as fresh batteries. He almost dropped them out of both fear from MC’s sudden shout, but mostly because he tried hard not to laugh at MC yelling ‘SCORE’ so triumphantly. He moved and placed it on the table, flopping down onto the couch and running a hand through his hair. 

“Hmm... this may be enough light to finish a few more documents; or maybe take another look at that case...” 

Artem’s voice dropped off as he looked at the wall across from him. Within the dim light came darker shadows, and this one was shaped like a dog. Then a butterfly. Then a... 

“An alligator.” MC proudly called out, turning to look at Artem. “See?” 

“I was going to say a crocodile.” 

“You obviously don’t know your shadow animals. You should work on that.” 

Artem laughed, the sound ringing out against the chilled air with a soft echo. He decided to wing it, moving to sit on his heels beside them and listen intently to their shadow animal lecture and presentation. He followed along, joining them with half-decent attempts himself just to laugh softly and smile brightly at their praise. Work didn’t need to be finished tonight. They coaxed him into a shadow puppet play— then another, and another. It was quite cute, if he was honest, and judging based on his laughter—anyone could see he was enjoying himself. Creating grand stories of bunny princesses and crocodiles—sorry, alligators—in space, without a shred of thought for their ages nor their status as lawyers, made him feel a type of freedom he hadn’t in years. Watching the way the corner of their eyes crinkled as they laughed along with him, the way their smile seemed to reach from ear to ear and light up the room better than the lantern, or noticing how they leaned in close to him every so often, left his heart racing, but feeling so full of affection. 

The room grew colder as the night went on, the large glass windows not doing much to improve their situation. MC was knees deep into a story about how embarrassed they were tripping the other day at the coffee shop when Artem noticed their shoulders shake momentarily; subtly, he watched as their body shook even between their lively storytelling movements. Swallowing his nerves each time they jumped up, he silently slipped his suit jacket off and gently draped it over their shoulders; pulling it together, engulfing them with the warmth—both the feeling and scent, if you had asked MC at the time—he gave an equally defrosting smile. Subconsciously, he leaned in towards them a bit, his voice lowering to just above a whisper as an apology for interrupting them. 

“You’re cold. Go ahead and take this.” 

“Are you sure? Won’t you be cold too?” 

“I’ll be alright, no need to worry about me.” 

“You say that, but I watched you fight off a shiver just there.” 

The corners of Artem’s lips fought to keep from curving upwards, a defeated sigh escaped him, followed by a smile. The melody of MC’s laugh warmed the air. 

“Let’s find a blanket, then. I know someone has to keep one in here for lunch naps, I’m sure of it.” 

They fought against the darkness to find the throw blanket—MC thought about taking the pillow too but it was put back after they playfully wacked him with it. He brought them to the couch as it got later, and listened to them as they rambled on about this show they had been keeping up on; he listened to every word, making sure to take mental notes about whatever made them particularly excitable—he'd take the time to research key elements later so he’d have something to talk about with them. The time had ticked by—surely it was late into the night, not that he could check anymore, his phone had died as they begged to borrow it to look up various pictures to improve their impromptu presentation. Slowly, he listened as their voice grew softer, softer, their words started to blur together more and more; with a soft thud, their head landed on his shoulder. 

Artem sat there a while, basking in the glow that was MC’s light—enough to light up a powerless room, enough to light up a powerless man—that's what he felt whenever they were around; defenseless against their rays, defenseless in his own love. He studied them, then; the curve of their face, the softness of their expression, the gentleness of their breathing. In, out, in, out, Artem did his best to match their pace with his own breathing to combat the heavy sounds of his heartbeat in his ears. Could they hear it too? What if it woke them? 

What he hadn’t considered, however, was that it may not have been just his own. The wild patter of rain against the glass pane lingered through the stillness of the night, the lantern clicking off to welcome in the darkness; Artem welcomed it as well, hiding the tenderness the two of them were sharing, keeping it to themselves in their own little world. Carefully, he moved to include them in the blanket as well, ensuring they were warm; taking a leap, he wrapped an arm around their shoulders to bring their head to his chest instead. Even the rain couldn’t drown out the way his heart raced, or how rhythmic, soft, and lovely theirs sounded. It filled his ears, coursed through his veins, warmed him up from head to toe. 

His shoulders relaxed, his head bobbing a bit as he struggled to blink away the impeding sleepiness. Accepting his fate—he must give up and remove his eyes from them some time, after all—he tilted his head back and leaned it against the back of the couch. Content right where he was, he felt the wave of exhaustion finally hit him, his adrenaline now wearing off. With a gentle smile on his lips, a silent wish that the night would never end, and a slightly desperate hope the lights would return by morning to wake him so that he could keep their night to themselves-- Artem slowly let sleep overcome him, his breath slowing until it gently matched the pace of his company.  

One last, sleep-filled wish to meet and relive the moment again in their dreams crossed his mind. 

[hecalledme-jagi]

Can we just take a second to talk about how Artem looks at Rosa?? Like this man clearly adores her long before they started dating and it’s so obvious, that it hurts.

LOOK AT HIM! ROSA HAD BARELY STARTED FEELING ANYTHING FOR ARTEM AT THIS POINT AND HE JUST!!! ＿|￣|○ He looks at her with so much tenderness and all the while he’s under the impression that he’s struggling to communicate how he feels??? Sure, he’s a clumsy dork when it comes to romance, but his eyes say so much more than any romantic gesture he could possibly conjure up or whatever poetic words he might want to say. Those eyes express a very deep longing to treasure and cherish. He wants, and is content with, experiencing the mundane things in life at her side and it KILLS ME 😭 he’s happy, beyond compare, watching the waxing and waning of her expressions and feeling her warmth.

AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON HIS BIRTHDAY INVITATION! Out of ALL the First Birthday invitations, Artem’s was my absolute favorite(and it’s probably my favorite invitation of all time). For one thing, it’s stunning, but it’s so unbelievably soft T^T!!!!!! The gentle way Rosa shifts closer to Artem, the way he gently holds her hand and blushes when she gets closer. The adoring look on his face and the soft smile on hers! UGH!! And it only gets better when you think about how she spent DAYS recreating an iconic scene from Artem’s favorite movie!? As a movie buff myself, Rosa’s actions spoke volumes! She dedicated so much of her personal time to get Artem a gift she knew he’d love. I wouldn’t be surprised if Artem fell in love with her all over again after that!

And after they start dating, he just continues to be more loving!? Some how his gaze becomes EVEN SOFTER!? HOW!? TELL ME! HOW!? If a man looked at me the way Artem looks at Rosa, I’d actually die. Out of all the leads, I think I love with way Artem looks at Rosa the most. It’s such a gentle and adoring expression that is 100% content with just looking. Just observing. The way he looks at her makes you think he’s committing every micro expression to memory and tracing every contor of her face, so that if there ever comes a day that he can’t see her face, it’ll be permanently seared into his very soul.

AUGJRVWWejtbegw AND IT GETS BETTER! They revealed, during the Cue The Champion Event, that Artem keeps a polite distance with Rosa when they’re in public, meaning he’s probably pretty shy about PDA, so he makes up for it through his loving gaze(thats how I’m interpreting it anyway :3). Artem and Rosa, in my humble opinion, create a very warm atmosphere around each other without having to express their affections verbally or physically. Any bystander could tell the two love each other just by seeing how they look at each other. Just by seeing how Artem looks at her. UGH JUST LIKE IN THE MYSTERIES OF BAKERLON EVENT! He’s composing a wordless love letter (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

I’m mostly adding this card just for fun, but there’s just so much affection Artem carries for Rosa and as much as I love the other leads, Artem holds a very special place in my heart that I just can’t ignore 🥺

[ikemen-bully]

I HAD THEM AT MY SECOND PULL THE GACHA GOD IS WITH ME

[lux-drm]

love and deepspace mc switches with tears of themis mc send post

[idanielions]

More moving from 2023 insta story;;

[10]

10/7

6/8

11/8

19/8

24/8

25/8

31/10

10/11

14/11

[grapenamjams]

THIS IS THE DOMESTIC SHIT THAT MAKES ME SICKKKKKKK UGHHHH 😭😭😭

[surely-galena]

I really want to point out the effort that went into the chibis for the anniversary event minigame because they are actually so expressive:

Winning the minigame

Luke: Characteristic, enthusiastic celebration -- "we did it!!"

Artem: Calm approval and congratulations -- "I knew we could do it."

Vyn: Clapping to show his appreciation for their effort and a job well done -- "you did wonderfully."

Marius: Confidence. That's it. "Of course we could do it, because I'm here."

But, on the other end of things:

Failing the minigame

Luke: Trying to console MC through encouragement -- "it's okay, we'll get it next time!"

Artem: Trying to figure out what exactly to say, but looking super uncomfortable as he gestures at her mistakes. "You did a good job, but you see..."

Vyn: This is one is so funny because he's just standing there thinking, but MC looks STRESSED as she tries to figure out what he's thinking. But when Vyn speaks, it's probably along the lines of: "Well, considering all the variables at play, I think we could attempt a different plan next time."

Marius: This chibi goes along so well with his winning one. MC is devastated, and Marius is just awkwardly grinning at her, like, "what can I say? Mistakes were made... haha."

[laciefuyu]

"One day, I will stand on par with you and protect this city together!" "Okay, I will wait for that day." — Entwined Fate