#BREAK MY HEART BREAK IT A THOUSAND TIMES IT WAS TRULY ONLY EVER YOURS TO BREAK

[acourtofquestions]

TOWER OF DAWN

MAJOR SPOILERS

Chapters 61-68

+ bonus?-ish one

(Thought I should just put it all in one post cause chapter by chapter quotes don’t work here😅😅😂)

A tomb--and a trove. And at the very back, rising up on a towering dais ... Duva. The khagan's now-youngest daughter. She smiled at them as they approached--and the expression was not human. It was Valg. "Well," said the thing inside the princess, "it certainly took you long enough." The words echoed down the massive chamber, bouncing off stone and gold. Chaol assessed every shadow, every object they passed. All possible weapons. All possible escape routes. Hafiza did not move as they neared, walking down the broad avenue between the endless, glittering gold and sarcophagi. A necropolis. Perhaps one enormous, subterranean city, stretching from the desert to here.

IT WAS DUVA!!!

"Don't," Chaol rasped, the word full of blood. Duva had destroyed it-destroyed everything. From the blood coming out of his mouth, up his throat... Yrene wept, the dagger poised over the princess's neck. He was dying. Duva had ripped open something within him. Duva's brows began to twitch and furrow as she stirred. Now. She had to do it now. Drive this blade in. End it. A life. She had sworn an oath never to take a life. And with this woman before her, the second life in her womb ... The dagger lowered. She'd do it. She'd do it, and-- "Yrene," Chaol breathed, and the word was so full of pain, so quiet ... It was too late. Her magic could feel it, his death. She had never told him of that terrible gift--that healers knew when death sat near. Silba, lady of gentle deaths. The death she would give Duva and her child would not be that sort of death. Chaol's death would not be that sort of death. But she ... But she ... The princess looked so young, even as she stirred. And the life in her womb ... The life before her ... Yrene dropped the knife to the floor. Its clattering echoed over gold and stone and bones. Chaol closed his eyes in what she could have sworn was relief. A light hand touched her shoulder. She knew that touch. Hafiza. But as Yrene looked, as she turned and sobbed-- Two others stood behind the Healer on High. Too much. Too many broken and torn and ravaged things-- His chest was barely rising. He did not open his eyes. "Wake up" she ordered him, her voice breaking. She plunged into her power, but the damage ... It was like trying to patch up holes in a sinking ship. Too much. Too much and-- Shouting and steps all around them. His life began to thin and turn to mist around her magic. Death circled, an eagle with an eye upon them. "Fight it" Yrene sobbed, shaking him. "You stubborn bastard, fight it." What was the point of it, the point of any of it, if now, when it mattered-- "Please," she whispered. Chaol's chest rose, a high note before the last plunge-- She could not endure it. Would not endure it-- A light nickered. Inside that failing mass of red and black. A candle ignited. A bloom of white. Then another. Another. Blooming lights, along that broken interior. And where they shone ... Flesh knitted. Bone smoothed. Light after light after light. His chest continued to rise and fall. Rise and fall. But in the hurt and the dark and the light … A woman's voice that was both familiar and foreign. A voice that was both Hafiza's and ... another. Someone who was not human, never had been. Speaking through Hafiza herself, their voices blending into the blackness. The damage is too great. There must be a cost if it is to be repaired. All those lights seemed to hesitate at that otherworldly voice. Yrene brushed herself along them, waded through them like a field of white flowers, the lights bobbing and swaying in this quiet place of pain. Not lights ... but healers. She knew their lights, their essences. Eretia--that was Eretia closest to her. The voice that was both Hafiza and Other said again, There must be a cost. For what the princess had done to him ... There A living chain of power. All the healers in the Torre, young and old, stood in that room of gold and bone. All connected. All channeling to Yrene, to the grip she still held on Chaol.

And Yrene knew it did not belong to Hafiza or the Other. Did not belong to any healer alive. But to one who had never left her, even when she had been turned into ash on the wind.

The CoM full circle reverse!

A daughter of Fenharrow will pay the debt of a son of Adarlan?

The Other said, You offer this of your own free will? Yes. With my entire heart. It had been his from the start, anyway.

THEN CHAOL THEN THE HEALERS THEN AGH

And where that scar had once sliced down his cheek ... only unmarred skin remained.

But there is always a price

"What was the cost," Chaol rasped. If she'd given up anything, he'd find a way to retrieve it. He didn't care what he had to pay, he'd-- "To keep your life tethered in this world, we had to bind it to another. To hers. Two lives," Hafiza clarified, "now sharing one thread. But even with that," She gestured to his legs, the foot he slid up to brace on the floor. "The demon broke many, many parts of you. Too many. And in order to save most of you, there was a cost, too." Yrene went still. "What do you mean?" Hafiza again looked between them. "There remains some damage to the spine--impacting the lower portions of the legs. That even we could not repair." Chaol glanced between the Healer on High and his legs, currently moving. He went so far as to put some weight on them. They held. Hafiza went on, "With the life-bond between you, Yrene's power flowing into you ... It will act as a brace. Stabilizing the area, granting you ability to use your legs whenever Yrene's magic is at its fullest." He steeled himself for the but. Hafiza smiled grimly. "But when Yrene's power flags, when she is drained or tired, your injury will regain control, and your ability to walk will again be impaired. It will require you to use a cane at the very least--on hard days, perhaps many days, the chair. But the injury to your spine will remain." The words settled in him. Floated through and settled.

is this like Elide & Lorcan?

Good question Yrene I wondered the same thing

"Can't I just heal him again?" She leaned toward him, as if she'd do just that. Hafiza shook her head. "It is part of the balance--the cost. Do not tempt the compassion of the force that granted this to you." But Chaol touched Yrene's hand. "It is no burden, Yrene," he said softly. "To be given this. It is no burden at all." Yet agony filled her face. "But I-" "Using the chair is not a punishment. It is not a prison," he said. "It never was. And I am as much of a man in that chair, or with that cane, as I am standing on my feet." He brushed away the tear that slipped down her cheek. "I wanted to heal you," she breathed. "You did," he said, smiling. "Yrene, in every way that truly matters ... You did."

This arc😭 “in every way that truly matters”

"When it is time, whether the death is kind or cruel ... It will claim you both." Yrene's golden eyes were still lined with silver. But there was no fear in her face, no lingering sorrow--none. "Together," Chaol said quietly, and interlaced their hands. Her strength would be his strength. And when Yrene went, he would go. But if he went before her-- Dread curled in his gut. "The true price of all this," Hafiza said, reading the panic. "Not fear for your own life, but what losing your life will do to the other." "I suggest you not go to war," Eretia grumbled.

Yrene .5 seconds later😂 / the true war at hand

But Yrene shook her head, shoulders straightening as she declared, "We shall go to war.” Pointing to Duva, she looked at Sartaq. As if she had not just offered up her very life to save his--"That is what Erawan will do. To all of you. If we do not go." "I know," Sartaq said quietly. The prince turned to Nesryn, and as she held his stare ... Chaol saw it. The glimmer between them. A bond, new and trembling. But there it was, right along with the cuts and wounds they both bore. "I know," Sartaq said again, his fingers brushing Nesryn's.

This sounds familiar… I KNOW SOULMATES BOND WHEN I SEE THEM/IT FOR BOTH OF THEM

Nesryn met Chaol's eyes then. She smiled softly at him, glancing to where Yrene now asked Hafiza about whether she could stand. He'd never seen Nesryn appear so ... settled. So quietly happy. Chaol swallowed. I'm sorry, he said silently. Nesryn shook her head as Sartaq scooped his sister into his arms with a grunt, the prince balancing his weight on his good leg. I think / did just fine. Chaol smiled. Then I am happy for you. Nesryn's eyes widened as Chaol at last got to his feet, taking Yrene with him. His movements were as smooth as any maneuver he might have made without the invisible brace of Yrene's magic flowing between them. Nesryn wiped away her tears as Chaol closed the distance between them and embraced her tightly. "Thank you," he said in Nesryn's ear. She squeezed him back. "Thank you--for bringing me here. To all of this." To the prince who now looked at Nesryn with a quiet, burning sort of emotion.

This moment😭🫶 HEALING / GROWTH ALL. OF. IT.

Alive, Yrene had said to him. As they walked out of the dark, Chaol at last felt it was true. Sartaq took Duva to the khagan. Called in his brothers and sister. Because Yrene insisted they be there. Chaol and Hafiza insisted they be there.

This bond between them ... She could feel it, almost. Like a living band of cool, silken light flowing from her--into him. And he truly did not seem to mind that a piece of his spine, his nerves, would retain permanent damage for as long as they lived. Yes, he'd now be able to move his legs with limited motion, even when her magic was drained. But standing--never a possibility during those times. She supposed they'd soon learn how and when the level of her power correlated with whether he required cane or chair or neither. But Chaol was right. Whether he stood or limped or sat ... it did not change him. Who he was. She had fallen in love with him well before he'd ever stood. She would love him no matter how he moved through the world.

What if we fight? Yrene had asked him on the trek over here. What then? Chaol had only kissed her temple. We fight all the time already. It'll be nothing new. He'd added, Do you think l'd want to be with anyone who didn't hand my ass to me on a regular basis? But she'd frowned. He'd continued, And this bond between us, Yrene... it changes nothing. With you and me. You'll need your own space; I'll need mine. So if you think for one moment that you're going to get away with flimsy excuses for never leaving my side-- She'd poked him in the ribs. As if I'll want to hang around you all day like some lovesick girl! Chaol had laughed, tucking her in tighter. But Yrene had only patted his arm and said, And I think you can take care of yourself just fine. He'd just kissed her, and that was that.

Out of the dark… they found their Rowaelin🥹 (really the HoF & book parallels are crazy to me)

I am not afraid of you, Yrene said into the dark. And you have nowhere to run.

Her name is Yrene Towers and she is not afraid.

Your world shall fall. As the others have done. As all others will.

This better not be foreshadowing…

No, prince am I, girl. But a princess. And my sisters shall soon find you.

holy shit there’s valg princesses (and they talk like Yoda?) *screams at sky UGH Maeve* PSPS don’t skip this book it’s crucial SIDE NOTE points Chaol😂 We love our fictional husbands just giving a pat on the back for support

“I DIDNT know they could do that… for some reason this chapter brought out the John Mulaney ever since Hasar said Hush”

Lethal--with rage. Not at Yrene, not at Duva, but the man who had sent this to their house. Their family. Duva's face relaxed on an exhaled breath, color blooming on her cheeks. Duva's husband tried to surge for her again, but Yrene stopped him with an upheld hand. Heavy-her hand was so heavy. But she held the young man's panicked stare. Which had not been on his wife's face, but the belly. Yrene nodded to him as if to say, I will look. Then she laid her hands on that round, high womb. Sent her magic probing, dancing along it--the life within. Something new and joyous answered back. Loudly.

POOR DUVA HOW DID NO ONE NOTICE — I MEAN HER HUSBAND & THE ENTIRE MARRIAGE… ow man… not to be that person but seriously??? (and also the sister line broke me TALK ABOUT TRAUMA the poor girl) — THE DAMNED SNEAKY NEW FANCY RING TRICK

P.s. point to the Khagan for switching from his “fight to death children” mantra

And extra spy points to Kadja😂 guess the weird chicken recipes distraction didn’t work🤣

But it did not frustrate him, did not embarrass him. If this was to be his body's natural state for the rest of his life ... it was not a punishment, not at all. He was still thinking that when they reached his suite, mulling over how they might work out a schedule of him fighting in battle with her healing. For he would fight. And if her power was drained, he'd fight then, too. Whether on horseback or in the chair itself. And when Yrene needed to heal, when the magic in her veins summoned her to those killing fields and their bond grew thin ... he'd manage with a cane, or the chair. He would not shrink from it. If he survived the battle. The war. If they survived.

Y’all better survive after the EoS ending I can’t handle anymore of that

MAEVE IS THE VALG QUEEN!!!

Still not over that😅😅😬 possibly the biggest plot twist/name drop of the series? Like Aelin I expected BUT THAT

"That explains why the Fae healers might have fled, too," Yrene murmured when Nesryn fell silent. "Why Maeve's own healer compound lies on the border with the mortal world. Perhaps not so they can have access to humans who need care... but as a border patrol against the Valg, should they ever try to encroach her territory." How close the Valg had unwittingly come when Aelin had fought those princes in Wendlyn. "It also explains why Aelin reported an owl at Maeve's side when they first met," Nesryn said, gesturing to Yrene, whose brows bunched. Then Yrene blurted, "The owl must be the Fae form of a healer. Some healer of hers that she keeps close--as a bodyguard. Has let everyone believe to be some pet ..."

I KNEW IT

"The demon told me it was not a Valg prince... but a princess." Silence. Until Nesryn said, "The spider. It claimed the Valg kings had sons and daughters. Princes and princesses." Chaol swore. No, his legs would not be able to function anytime soon, with or without Yrene's slowly refilling well of power. "We're going to need a Fire-Bringer, it seems," he said. And to translate the books Hafiza said she would gladly hand over to their cause. Nesryn chewed on her lip. "Aelin now sails north to Terrasen, an armada with her. The witches as well." "Or just the Thirteen," Chaol countered. "The reports were murky. It might not even be Manon Blackbeak's coven, actually." "It is," Nesryn said. "I'd bet everything on it."

NO SHES NOT AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WE NEED A FIRE BRINGER BUT YALL GOTTA GO GET HER LIKE RIGHT FRIGGIN NOW THIS IS KILLING ME AGHHHHHHHSAVANKWWIRHRBD

But yes keep calm and trust in Manon & THE 13

Okay yeah Yrene can heal them and now Nesryns got a ruk ITS ALL GONNA BE FINE (it all better be fine)

Nesryn The Empress has a nice ring to it don’t ya think

Now we’re really like Heir of Fire only it’s Nesryn Heir of the Southern Continent

The world he laid at her feet. She trembled at it. What he so freely gave. Not the empire and crown, but ... the life. His heart. Nesryn wondered if he knew her heart had been his from that very first ride atop Kadara. Sartaq smiled as if to say yes, he had. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was tentative, and soft, and full of wonder, that kiss. He tasted like the wind, like a mountain spring. He tasted like home. Nesryn clasped his face in her hands as she pulled back. "To war, Sartaq," she breathed, memorizing every line of his face. "And then we'll see what comes after." Sartaq gave her a knowing, cocky grin. As if he'd fully decided what would come after and nothing she could say would ever convince him otherwise. And from the courtyard just a wall away, her sister shouted, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, "I told you, Father!"

I’m so happy to see her happy and her family and her see her family🥹 I NEEDED THIS😭 & THE HOME QUOTE (again Rowaelin much?😉😘🫶)

Home. They were to sail home today.

Home🥹😭

"I wish I had never said a word to you on the steppes that night." Yrene began to shake her head, unsure of what to even say. "I have missed having you--as my friend," Kashin went on. "I do not have many of them." "I know," she managed to get out. And then added, "I missed having you as my friend, too." For she had. And what he was now willing to do for her, her people ... She took Kashin's hand. Squeezed it. There was still pain in his eyes, limning his handsome face, but ... understanding. And a clear, undaunted gleam as he beheld the northern horizon. The prince squeezed her hand in return. "Thank you again--for Duva." A small smile toward that northern skv. "We shall meet again, Yrene Towers. I am certain of it."

Props to Kashin & also hopeful foreshadowing for once (& no one better die when they meet again)

She smiled back at him, beyond words. But Kashin winked, pulling his hand from hers. "My sulde still blows northward. Who knows what I may find on the road ahead? Especially now that Sartaq has the burden of being Heir, and I'm free to do as I please." The city had been in an uproar about it. Celebrating, debating--it still raged on. What the other royal siblings thought, Yrene did not know, but ... there was peace in Kashin's eyes. And in the eyes of the others, when Yrene had seen them. And part of her indeed wondered if Sartaq had struck some unspoken agreement that went beyond Never Duva. To perhaps even Never Us. Yrene had smiled again at the prince--at her friend. "Thank you, for all your kindness."

beyond words “Never Duva. Never us.” never again

Even in the early morning, the tower was a beacon, a jutting lance of hope and calm. She wondered if she would ever see it again. For what lay ahead of them ... Yrene braced her hands on the rail as another gust of wind rocked the ship. A wind from inland, as if all thirty-six gods of Antica blew a collective breath to send them skittering home. Across the Narrow Sea--and to war. The ship began to move at last, the world a riot of action and color and sound, but Yrene remained at the rail. Watching the city grow smaller and smaller. And even when the coast was little more than a shadow, Yrene could have sworn she still saw the Torre standing above it, glinting white in the sun, as if it were an arm upraised in farewell.

So many HoF parallels (also the Tower at Dawn imagery *chefs kiss* PERFECTION)

Never for granted😭

The way we went from the EoS ship bonus sneak peek to here & soon to be KoA

Also is it the same storm?

"Watching the horizon won't get us there any faster," he murmured onto her neck. "Neither will teasing your wife about it." Chaol smiled against her skin. "How else am I to amuse myself during the long hours than by teasing you, Lady Westfall?" she snorted, as she always did at the title. But Chaol had never heard anything finer--other than the vows they'd spoken in Silba's temple at the Torre two and a halt weeks ago. The ceremony had been small, but Hasar had insisted on a feast afterward that put to shame all the others they'd had in the palace. The princess might have been many things, but she certainly knew how to throw a party.

No longer Yrene Towers--but Yrene Westfall.

WHERES MY WIFE VS LADY WESTFALL I CANT decide if I’m healed or more broken … also the way we went from Lord Westfall “it’s Chaol” to this🥹

Gods help him when Hasar and Aedion met.

This better happen cause now I can’t wait😂

Hellas Horse “Butterfly”

New fav character😂👏

She smiled down at the locket, the silver near-blinding in the midday sun. "I suppose I don't need my little note any longer." "Why?" "Because I am not alone," she said, running her fingers over the metal. "And because I found my courage." He kissed her cheek, but said nothing as she opened the locket and carefully removed the browned scrap. The wind tried to rip it from her fingers, but Yrene held tight, unfolding the slender fragment. She scanned the text she'd read a thousand times. "I wonder if she'll return for this war. Whoever she was. She spoke of the empire like…" Yrene shook her head, more to herself, and folded it shut again. "Perhaps she will come home to fight, from wherever she sailed off to." She offered him the piece of paper and turned away to the sea ahead. Chaol took the scrap from Yrene, the paper velvet-soft from its countless readings and foldings and how she'd held it in her pocket, clutched it, all these years. He unfolded the note and read the words he already knew were within: For wherever you need to go--and then some. The world needs more healers. The waves quieted. The ship itself seemed to pause. Chaol glanced to Yrene, smiling serenely at the sea, then to the note. To the handwriting he knew as well as his own.

The fact that he knew her handwriting — Forgiveness can you imagine? 😭 — & THE story

For wherever you need to go--and then some. The world needs more healers. There, in her handwriting ... Chaol looked up at last, blinking away tears as he scanned his wife's face. Every beautiful line, those golden eyes. A gift. A gift from a queen who had seen another woman in hell and thought to reach back a hand. With no thought of it ever being returned. A moment of kindness, a tug on a thread ... And even Aelin could not have known that in saving a barmaid from those mercenaries, in teaching her to defend herself, in giving her that gold and this note ... Even Aelin could not have known or dreamed or guessed how that moment of kindness would be answered. Not just by a healer blessed by Silba herself, capable of wiping the Valg away. But by the three hundred healers who had come with her. The three hundred healers from the Torre, now spread across the one thousand ships of the khagan himself. A favor, Yrene had asked of the man in return for saving his most beloved daughter. Anything, the khagan had promised. Yrene had knelt before the khagan. Save my people. That was all she asked. All she had begged. Save my people. So the khagan had answered.

The way it all weaves together like SO YOUR TELLING ME ALL OF IT🥹😭 once upon a time there was a princess who loved her kingdom very much *gonna go sob now*

Chaol folded the note along its well-worn lines and carefully set it back within Yrene's locket. "Keep it a while longer," he said softly. "I think there's someone who will want to see that." Yrene's eyes filled with surprise and curiosity, but she asked nothing as Chaol again slid his arms around her and held her tightly. Every step, all of it, had led here. From that keep in the snow-blasted mountains where a man with a face as hard as the rock around them had thrown him into the cold; to that salt mine in Endovier, where an assassin with eyes like wildfire had smirked at him, unbroken despite a year in hell. An assassin who had found his wife, or they had found each other, two gods-blessed women wandering the shadowed ruins of the world. And who now held the fate of it between them. Every step. Every curve into darkness. Every moment of despair and rage and pain. It had led him to precisely where he needed to be. Where he wanted to be. A moment of kindness. From a young woman who ended lives to a young woman who saved them.

The unwritten Captain and The Assassin bonus is complete😭 … I cannot wait for Aelin to read that (I’m gonna need it) “a moment of kindness”

He did not regret. He did not look back. Not with Yrene in his arms, at his side. Not with the note she carried, that bit of proof... that bit of proof that he was exactly where he was meant to be. That he had always been headed there. Here. "Will I ever hear an explanation for this dramatic reaction," Yrene said at last, clicking her tongue, "or are you just going to kiss me for the rest of the day?" Chaol rumbled a laugh. "It's a long story." He slung an arm around her waist and stared out toward the horizon with her. "And you might want to sit down first." "Those are my favorite kinds," she said, winking. Chaol laughed again, feeling the sound in every part of him, letting it ring clear and bright as a bell. A final, joyous pealing before the storm of war swept in. "Come on," he said to Yrene, nodding to the soldiers working alongside Hasar's men to keep the ships sailing swiftly for the north--to battle and bloodshed. "I'll tell you over lunch." Yrene rose onto her toes to kiss him before he led them toward their spacious stateroom. "This story of yours had better be worth it," she said with a wry grin. Chaol smiled back at his wife, at the light he'd unknowingly walked toward his entire life, even when he had not been able to see it. "It is," he said quietly to Yrene. "It is."

The most beautiful scene which is needed pre bonus chapter😭

Fireheart

😭😵🫥☠��💔🖤

Don’t even get me started on that final piece KILL ME NOW SARAH OH WAIT YOU ALREADY DID

They had entombed her in darkness and iron. She slept, for they had forced her to--had wafted curling, sweet smoke through the cleverly hidden airholes in the slab of iron above. Around. Beneath. A coffin built by an ancient queen to trap the sun inside.

To trap the sun inside… she’s the sun… crying again

Draped with iron, encased in it, she slept. Dreamed. Drifted through seas, through darkness, through fire. A princess of nothing. Nameless.

“Nameless is my price”

The princess sang to the darkness, to the flame. And they sang back. There was no beginning or end or middle. Only the song, and the sea, and the iron sarcophagus that had become her bower. Until they were gone. Until blinding light flooded the slumbering, warm dark. Until the wind swept in, crisp and scented with rain. She could not feel it on her face. Not with the death-mask still chained to it. Her eyes cracked open. The light burned away all shape and color after so long in the dim depths. But a face appeared before her--above her. Peering over the lid that had been hauled aside. Dark, flowing hair. Moon-pale skin. Lips as red as blood. The ancient queen's mouth parted in a smile. Teeth as white as bone. "You're awake. Good." Lovely and cold, it was a voice that could devour the stars. From somewhere, from the blinding light, rough and scar-flecked hands reached into the coffin. Grasped the chains binding her. The queen's huntsman; the queen's blade.

The huntsman… Sarah don’t go getting all fairytale Grimm on me again now

He hauled the princess upright, her body a distant, aching thing. She did not want to slide back into this body. Struggled against it, clawing for the flame and the darkness that now ebbed away from her like a morning tide. But the huntsman yanked her closer to that cruel, beautiful face watching with a spider's smile. And he held her still as that ancient queen purred, "Let's begin."

WHAT DO YOU MEAN ENDING IT LIKE THAT

[20-th-centurygirl]

summary: just a little something about jude <3

navigation masterlist

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

●bf jude who cannot get enough of gossiping with you. literally the highlight of his day is getting into bed with you at night and getting allll the gossip

●bf jude who cannot go a day without telling you how much he loves you. will tell you 50 thousand times a day and still worry he hasn't told you enough

●bf jude who adores suprising you with gifts no matter how many times you tell him to stop because you can't reciprocate them "shut up if i wanna spoil my girl i will"

●bf jude who always makes sure you have fresh flowers no matter where you both are. he's away on international duty, you're back home while he's in spain whatever he's always gonna find a way to get the biggest bunch of fresh flowers to you

●bf jude who just has to shower you with compliments everyday. there hasn't been a day in your entire relationship where he hasn't called you beautiful at least once

●bf jude who is so incredibly touchy. cannot ever keep his hands off you and has to be touching you in some way. even something as small as holding your pinkie with his

●bf jude who loves cooking with you even if it ends up being a disaster each time

●bf jude who values the little things with you. things as simple as brushing your teeth together in the morning make him realise how painfully inlove he is with you

●bf jude who loves nothing more than spending the whole day after a game cuddling in bed binge watching the most rubbish reality tv to exist

●bf jude who only feels truly comfortable enough to be vulnerable around you and isn't afraid to express his emotions

●bf jude who will never allow you to go to sleep on your own after an argument no matter how bad it is

●bf jude who will never let you go to sleep after an argument without saying sorry and telling you he loves you no matter how petty or angry he is

●bf jude who does cheesy romantic stuff with you as a 'joke' but he adores it deep down ( you know he secretly adores it but you pretend not to)

●bf jude who is fiercely protective over you and his heart breaks everytime he sees you cry

●bf jude who loves stupid nicknames

●bf jude who won't answer when you call him jude, he only answers to baby

●bf jude who sometimes feels guilty about his fame because it stops you both from being able to do normal couple things

●bf jude who loves a coffee date with you more than anything

●bf jude who loves subtly matching outfits with you. something as simple as the same shoes or the same colour shirt

[writing-imagines]

Even Mean Girls Cry // Regina George

Summary: After hooking up with Regina for a year, you finally get to see her vulnerable side after The Plastics reject her at lunch.

Possible warnings: light swearing, bullying, and Regina being Regina

Pairing: Regina George x gender!neutral reader (readers gender literally isn’t mentioned)

A/n: first fic of 2024!! I love Reneé’s Regina so feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts about her

Regina George wasn’t a good person. It was evident ever since the first grade when she told everyone that Peter Howell peed himself after she spilled apple juice on him. So, you did your best to avoid her, and her ever changing minions, every day as you grew up. When you reached high school, Regina’s antics became more frequent and hurtful. By the end of your freshman year, she had at least one embarrassing piece of information on everyone in school, yourself included. 

Your streak of successfully avoiding Regina came to an end after winter break during your sophomore year. Ms. Norbury asked you to be Regina’s Intermediate Math tutor since you had the highest grades in your Algebra 2 class. You were hesitant to accept the opportunity considering Regina’s reputation, but you knew tutoring would look great on your college application. You accepted Ms. Norbury’s request and so started your relationship with Regina George. 

At first, she sat across from you in the empty cafeteria after school, chomping loudly on her gum and texting a thousand words a minute. Her behavior continued every day that week and by Friday, you’d had enough. 

“Regina, stop wasting my time and pay attention.” You finally snapped after she blew an obnoxiously large pink bubble with her gum. Regina’s eyes slowly rose from her phone screen to you. 

“What did you just say to me?” Her eyes resting on you instantly made you lose the confidence you just had. 

“Oh-I…I meant you should pay attention. I’m trying to teach you, so you don’t fail your next algebra test.” You smiled nervously as Regina’s gaze dug further into you. After a few more moments of intense staring, the blonde let out a scoff. 

“You know, you’re actually kind of cute.” Her blue eyes looked you over, this time in a more flirtatious way. You felt like a lamb dangling over a hungry mountain lion. 

“Thanks.” You nervously looked away and rubbed the back of your neck in an attempt to get any relief from Regina’s presence. 

“So, you agree? You think you’re cute.” 

“Umm…I mean, I don’t really know.” Regina’s smile softened and she looked at you as if you were a lost puppy. Without warning, the blonde stood up and made her way to your side of the table. She sat down in the seat beside you and scooted as close as she possibly could, causing your face to warm and your heart to beat faster. 

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Y/n?” Regina questioned with her pointer and middle finger dancing on your thigh. Your throat went dry at the mention of the one thing you were embarrassed of. In a school full of hormonal teenagers, you were truly the only one who hadn’t kissed anyone yet. You were kicking yourself for accidentally telling Karen the sensitive information during a bonfire last year. 

“You know the answer, Regina.” You said with a defeated exhale. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Regina, instead, you kept your eyes glued to the table. Suddenly, the two fingers that danced on your thigh were placed gently under your chin, forcing you to look at the blonde beside you. Her eyes were kinder, and her smile was still soft, making you feel less embarrassed. 

“It’s okay, you don’t need to be embarrassed.” You didn’t say anything, instead, you softly smiled and took in Regina’s features. You had never noticed how pretty her eyes were or how full her lips were. 

“Do you want to kiss me, Y/n?” Regina’s eyebrows lifted with the question. Without even thinking, you blurted out the answer. 

“Yes.” You swore for a moment Regina began to blush as she pushed a few stray hairs away from her face. 

“Okay. Close your eyes.” 

You did as you were told. For a moment, you were worried it was all just a prank, but when you felt Regina’s lips press against yours, you knew it had to be real. You did your best to reciprocate the kiss, causing Regina to let out a small moan, which caused your stomach to flip about ten times. Suddenly, you felt Regina’s hands find your neck and her perfectly manicured nails rested on the nape of your neck, effectively pulling you in deeper. 

The sound of a door slamming shut caused both of you to pull away quickly. You couldn’t help but stare at Regina with a bewildered look, seriously questioning if the kiss happened. 

“Wow, you're a pretty good kisser, Nerd.” 

“T-Thanks. You’re good too.” You sputtered with the most nervous tone you had ever heard from yourself. The blonde laughed before running her fingers along the edge of her lips to wipe away any smeared lip gloss. 

“I know.”  The two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours before Regina spoke up. 

“So, I’ll see you on Monday then.” She quickly stood up and gathered her things as if nothing had happened. 

“I’ll see you on Monday.” You echoed, wiping Regina’s cherry flavored lip gloss off your lips. 

“Bye, Nerd.” 

“Bye, Regina.” 

Almost a full year later and your hookups with Regina were still going strong. In fact, ever since Cady Heron started causing drama between the girls, you had been spending all of eighth period in the back seat of Regina’s Jeep, making out like it was your last moments on earth. Not to mention, secretly hooking up with the queen bee of North Shore gave you a major confidence boost that even Regina noticed. Your relationship had even gone to the next level: texting each other about things that didn’t involve when and where to hookup. 

You were sitting in Trigonometry when your phone pinged. You quickly checked it, not wanting to risk Ms. Norbury confiscating it. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see that Regina had texted you. 

RG: Sweatpants are the only things that fit me right now 

Y/n: So? 

RG: So? Jesus Y/n. I can’t wear sweatpants to lunch! 

Y/n: Because of the stupid rules YOU made?

RG: They aren’t stupid 

Y/n: I’m sure it’ll be fine. The girls will understand 

“Y/n, care to share with that class what on your phone is so important that you’re missing out on practice test questions?” 

“No. Sorry, Ms. Norbury. It won’t happen again.” 

“Good. Now, as I was saying…” You watched Ms. Norbury turn to write something on the board and quickly sent another text to Regina. 

Y/n: Just got called out by Norbury for texting you. Hope you’re happy 

You went the rest of class without hearing from Regina. In fact, you went most of the day without hearing from her. It was a little weird, but you knew she had a lot going on and it wasn’t like you needed constant communication with each other. 

When lunch came around, it was the same old same old. You sat down with some of your other tutor friends and talked about your day. As Daisy Smith talked about her failed attempt to teach Karen about fractions, you saw Regina walk towards The Plastics. True to her word, she wore gray sweatpants that grabbed your, and several others, attention. You didn’t eye Regina for long, not wanting anyone to accuse you of being a creep or being in love with her. You looked down at your lunch only for the room to suddenly go quiet. 

“You can’t sit with us!” Gretchen’s voice echoed through the silent room. No one dared to even gasp as Regina fired back. 

“Sweatpants are all that fit me right now.” Even though you couldn’t see her face, you could tell Regina was talking through gritted teeth. 

“What do you think, Cady?” Gretchen asked, her voice once again echoing through the room. 

“Sorry, Regina. Rules are rules.” Seeing the sly look on Cady’s face made you want to march over to her and smash a tray of food in her face. You knew that would lead to a suspension, so you made a mental note to figure out some way to get back at Cady that wouldn’t result in a week off school.

“Fine.” 

Regina turned around to see every eye in that room on her. You could tell by the look on her face that for once, she hated the attention. Not a single person in that room moved to make room for Regina as she walked down the aisle. 

“Daisy, scoot down.” You quickly nudged the redhead to make room for Regina.

“Regina, you can sit with us.” You offered, eyes slightly full of hope that she would accept the offer and somehow make the situation better.

“I’m not sitting with you losers.” She spat out as she stormed past your table. 

“What a bitch.” Glenn Coco scoffed. Your blood boiled at Glenn’s comment, but you knew you had to play it cool to avoid any suspicion. 

“Guys, I forgot my math book in Ms. Norbury’s. I’m going to grab it really quick.” 

You quickly got up from the table, leaving your tray behind, and stormed off to find Regina. You searched her usual hangout spots, the maintenance room and the girl’s locker room in the gym. When you didn’t find her in either place, you made your way to the only other place she could be, the parking lot.

Sure enough, as you approached her Jeep, you saw Regina sitting in the passenger seat. Even from far away, you could tell she was crying. Cautiously, you approached the car and tapped on her window. The blonde’s head instantly shot up, revealing her red eyes and mascara stained cheeks. You had never seen Regina cry before, and the sight actually shocked you to your core. Without saying a word, you walked over to the driver’s side and climbed in. 

“What are you doing?” Regina questioned through sniffles as you put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. 

“I’m taking you home.” Your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter when you noticed a picture of Regina, Karen, and Gretchen resting on her dashboard as you drove out of the parking lot. 

“I don’t need you to take me home.” Regina tried to use her usual venomous tone, but it came out shaky and pitiful. 

“I don’t care if you need me to. I want to take you home. That was fucking ridiculous.” 

After a few minutes of silence, you looked over to see tears still rolling down Regina’s face. Based on how her bottom lip was quivering, you knew Regina really needed to cry. You carefully reached your right hand over to Regina and grabbed her hand. 

“It’s okay to cry. They tried to humiliate you in front of the whole school. You don’t have to hide it from me.” You squeezed Regina’s hand, which caused her to quickly pull her hand away. 

“I am not crying because of those bitches. I’m crying because all I can wear is sweatpants and my mascara is ruined.” That time Regina was able to spit out her usual venom. While her tone would intimidate most people, it let you know Regina was going to be okay. 

“Those are still valid reasons to cry.” You said matter-of-factly. You felt Regina’s eyes land on you again, causing you to glance over at her. 

“Why are you so nice to me all the time?” 

“Because I’m a nice person.” You shrugged, not wanting to give away your true feelings for Regina. 

“I think it’s because you like me.” 

“And what if I did?” You replied without missing a beat. Once again, you were kicking yourself for not thinking before you spoke. 

“I’d have to give you a makeover. I can’t date anyone who dresses like that.” 

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” 

“Nothing, if you’re going for a grocery store clerk.” You scoffed and acted offended by Regina’s words, which made the blonde crack a smile. 

“I do not dress like a grocery store clerk.” 

You both chuckled as you pulled up to the George's home. You instantly took note that Mrs. George’s car was missing from the driveway. 

“Do you want to come in? My mom isn’t home.” Regina looked at you with hopeful eyes. Not wanting to leave Regina alone after a traumatic event, you decided that it would be a good idea for you to stick around for a little while longer.

“Yeah, I’ll come in for a little bit.” 

You turned off the car and let Regina take the lead into her home. The second the front door closed behind you, Regina took your hand and led you up to her room. 

“Shoes off and get on the bed.” The blonde commanded.

“Regina, I don’t think we should-”

“Relax, Nerd. I just want you to hold me and tell me I’m pretty.” 

You quickly kicked your shoes off and lied down on the right side of the bed. Once you were comfortable, Regina joined you. Within seconds, her head found a comfortable spot on your chest, resting between your jaw and collarbone. Her hand found its way down to your stomach and balled the fabric of your shirt into her hand. After Regina was comfortable, you snaked your arm around her and held her close. You couldn’t help but look down at the blonde with a smile. When she wasn’t ruining people’s lives, Regina was actually kind of sweet. 

“Hey, Regina?”

“What, Nerd?” 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” 

“Yeah, I know.” You could feel Regina’s smirk against your neck, which only made you fall a little harder for her.

You laid there, holding the blonde like your life depended on it. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder about finally telling Regina how you felt about her. It seemed like a good idea, especially after a hard day, but the thought of losing her stopped you. So, you just let Regina George, the meanest girl in North Shore, sleep on your chest while you held her close. 

[splatashahowlett]

Birthday Blues

logan howlett x reader

logan hated cake.

well, he hated this cake. the one rogue had spent her entire afternoon baking for your birthday. of course you would have wanted a cake portraying henry cavill out of anyone. even if it was horrifying to admit, logan came to the conclusion -after staring at the cake for twenty minutes- that what he felt may be, somewhat, probably, eventually, potentially close to what you call jealousy.

not because it wasn't his face on the cake, solely thinking about it sent him into a spiral of absurdity. but more because you weren't interested in him in the slightest, and that somehow upset him a little bit. he would live through it though. logan doesn't need anyone and the more people stay away from him the better. so no, he wasn't about to make a move or confess his feelings to you cause you couldn't even call those feelings... logan had never felt this foolish in a long time.

you were turning 28. you almost couldn't believe it. life hasn't been kind to you (read cruel and atrocious) and you were in peace with the fact that you weren't going to make it past 25. so celebrating your birthday, one more time, felt exhilarating. you weren't supposed to be alive still, so it felt like bonus time. and you wanted to make the most of it. "making the most of it" currently meant dancing on a table with your best friend, ororo. not caring if it could break under your sophisticated dance moves, if people love you or if you really did turn off the stove earlier.

in this moment, you couldn't care less. you felt truly happy.

and hot. you felt hot.

not in a "I feel cute" way -well, also in a "I feel cute" way- but burning hot.

you tried to scream over the music, telling ororo you were going outside. she clearly didn't hear you but you needed fresh air so you quickly gave up.

once you were outside you seated yourself on the stairs of the school. you ears were ringing and body sweating. you tried to enjoy the delicate breeze grazing over your cheeks but for some reason you couldn't relax. after a quick glance behind you, you figured your life long crush watching you might be the reason why.

"you startled me" you yelped, a hand flying to your chest.

"sorry kid" he answered, walking over to you. he sat down next to you, careful to leave lot of space between you two. you hated when he called you that. you didn't take it personally because he called everyone that but each time it felt like a sting in your heart reminding you that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, that it was impossible. you both stayed silent, not knowing what to say and how to say it.

"you looked like you were having fun back there" he said, lighting a cigar. you smiled and turned your head to look at him. you were leaving the school soon and this "ahead of time nostalgia" pushed you to do something stupid; you suddenly wanted to find out if there could be something between you. alcohol could also be a factor. so you kept your gaze on him, heart beating at an expeditious and maybe even unhealthy rate.

"I was" you nodded, "were you having fun?" you added.

"s'not really my thing" he sighed, not annoyed but more disappointed.

"having fun?" you joked, still looking at him, he glanced at you with a smile on his face. you were effortlessly soothing to him. you were his own personification of serenity.

"no, dancing and all..." he replied, still smiling.

you looked down, your smile slowly fading. "I'm gonna miss this. our nighttime conversations" you complained. logan's stare was still on you, his eyebrows furrowed.

"you're leaving?" he asked, urgently. you only nodded, saying it out loud would be heart-wrenching. you both fell silent again. you didn't know what to do, should you tell him you've been in love with him since you first saw him? should you tell him you hate him so leaving would be easier? should you stay? a thousands thoughts were rushing through your mind for what felt like an hour but really was only a long minute. this shattering turmoil was interrupted by logan standing up.

"teach me." he said, while holding out a hand. you looked up, confused.

"teach you what?" you said, though still taking his hand and following him on the grass.

"to dance, I want to learn to have fun. I want to have something left from you once you're gone" he said, straight into your eyes and you felt your breath stuck in your throat. so you took a step and captured his other hand in your free one.

"I'm no professional logan" you bantered.

"but you're more than passionate about it, it's all that matters" he answered, in all sincerity while you started guiding his steps into a slow dance. his hand was on your waist, keeping you close to his body.

"were you watching me?" you asked, feeling bold enough to flirt.

"how could I not? you seem to catch my attention in every room you walk in" he admitted, not showing how scared he was at the moment.

"why didn't you say anything sooner? why didn't you say anything when we had time?" you whimpered, on the edge of tears.

logan stopped dancing and pulled you to him. silently apologizing.

"my heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own" you muttered, in a desperate attempt to fix whatever was to be fixed. logan closed his eyes, jubilating at your confession which also broke his heart considering you both acknowledged your feelings for each other once it was too late. "kiss me" he heard.

so he did, he did kiss you. he kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever do, because it was in a way. he knew he couldn't keep you from leaving, so he let you have a part of him with you: his heart, along with a promise of seeing each other again.

[nouvxllev]

Request!!

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: Jenna and R are like on ldr cuz of her work, after mooonthhss, J surprises R by going back home early to her. J gets so worried cuz R isn't in the house, and she can't contact her. R gets home wasted, J confronts her, R breaks down, rambling about how she just misses Jenna, not knowing it is actually Jenna who she was speaking to... she mistakes her to be Emma..😭🙏🏻

unbearable uncertainty

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: request! ^^

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: slight angst? maybe? bittersweet??

a/n: wrote tara carpenter smut then dipped. oh my god, i truly apologize for going on an unknowingly and unbearable hiatus from writing. but on the bright side, i met someone whos truly so special and i cherish the most on here :] thank you for the request and im sorry if ive been holding it back for months!

(ps. ive forgotten how to write entirely, please be patient with me)

Long goodbyes were never easy.

How could Jenna ever forget the last piece of comfort she felt in your arms as you held her for the final time before she boarded the plane? The warmth and security she found when you whispered "I love you" was something she couldn't find elsewhere.

You hugged her so tightly, Jenna felt as if you were trying to fold her into your very being.

You always did that, always have.

But you held her a little longer. Closer, tighter. As if it'll be the last time Jenna falls in love with you. It felt too surreal when she heard your voice started breaking in tears like there was a cloud over your heart Jenna used to bring life in.

She tried to memorize every detail of your face, every line and shadow, every crease and every feature like you were a past lover she's been searching for, she wanted to hold onto each imperfection and perfection as if capturing this moment in her heart could somehow lessen the pain of parting.

When you reached out, gently brushing a stray tear from her cheek, and she leaned into your touch, savoring the warmth that would soon be gone. It was a gesture so tender, so full of love, that it made her heart ache even more.

Would she have done something differently? Perhaps tell you she got it all wrong, tell the producers and chosen to live in peace with you and frolic in some field of flowers like a coming of age movie.

No, she could only swallow the lump in her throat and urge her heart to stop grieving for something that wasn't even dead but merely distant.

Vermont proved to be a cold comfort, like winter for a thousand nights without somebody to hold on, stark contrast to the warmth she'd known for all these months.

The first night was the hardest—cruel, even. As she unpacked her bags in the apartment paid for b the producers, it was a far cry from the home you had shared. Despite its charm for space, it felt emptier than it should've been. A shell.

Jenna remembers lying awake that night, unable to find solace even in the darkness. Each thought weighed heavier than the last, fearing you would grow to resent the fame she would have declined in a heartbeat if given the choice, that loving her had become more of a chore than a joy.

The frequent overseas flights and constant altering of time zones only added to the strain, affecting even how her heart would beat. Conversations became shorter while days grew longer, and only letters and distant updates from you brought reassurance. She missed the moments of quiet intimacy, the laughter shared, and the smile she could reach up and kiss, the comfort of knowing she was always there for you.

It was a constant routine of staring at the ceiling, desperate to imagine your arounds around her and your warm breath against the neck. The loneliness was a crushing weight, far more realistic than a mere idea it was. Unbearable.

She found herself wanting for the familiar warmth and solace that only your presence could provide her. She would watch herself listening for your voice, remembering how you would tell her if she's been overworking, half-expecting to hear your laughter or even a slight tone or maybe even the sound of your footsteps.

She always found small ways to feel connected to you.

The letters you sent were her lifeline. She would read them over and over as if it were new ink, tracing the words with her fingers that carried your thoughts and reassurances, imagining your voice speaking them. Each letter was a piece of you, a reminder that you were thinking of her, missing her just as much.

The voice calls were both a blessing and a curse.

Hearing your voice brought her comfort, but it also made the distance between you feel even more unbearable. She would stay up late into the night, talking to you, laughing with you, sharing her day and listening to yours. But when the call ended, silence would descend, and the emptiness would return with a vengeance. She would lie in bed, clutching the pillow, trying to replay the sound of your voice.

So it was a huge, pain-in-the-ass problem for her, the amount of calls and thousands of sleepless nights with her arms wrapped around a pillow instead of the love of her life was a step away from insanity. It seemed dramatic, but can you blame a girl!? Love always had a way of making seem things insignificant in comparison.

Another grueling month without the love of your life? She couldn't and wouldn't even bear it, you would have to finally cut the two parts of her brain in half and throw away the other one to endure that kind of torture.

So what started as a joke with her finger hovering over the "book flight" button while on the phone with you turned out to be, surprise surprise, not even close to a silly little joke.

She clicked it impulsively, without a second thought or even a first one.

Her heart raced faster than ever with the thought of seeing you again. Feeling your arms around her, hearing you laugh, smile, and talk was all the motivation she needed. It was like a recurring dream you’d betray another day for to live in.

And here she is now, at your place, luggage in hand in the dead of night, looking like she fled the country, with that familiar airport scent still clinging to her clothes and hair. She smelled like whatever hit-terminal coffee it was that day and recycled air.

Jenna's been muttering to herself all evening, "Pick up, pick up, pick up, oh my God, who leaves their house unlocked!?"

Her phone, balanced on her shoulder, was one slip away from hitting the ground, and she was one missed call away from losing it. She imagine the look on your face when you saw her standing there, unannounced yet so desperately wanted, not like wanting to send out a search party for you!

It was voicemail after voicemail, a ring before a cruel tone that mocked her for seconds, the unknowing certainty that something had happened to you.

You’ve been M.I.A ever since she arrived, and the last text she received from you was a breezy, "I’m going out tonight with co-workers" followed by a thousand kisses. The gesture was sweet, but it’s not helping now that it’s 12 fucking a.m. and you’re nowhere to be found.

She paced back and forth in your living room, the anxiety gnawing at her insides and the sharp pain from her palm to her heart had never been so severe.

Every creak of the floorboards made her thoughts race, hoping it was you finally coming home. The silence of the house was deafening, broken only by her thoughts replaying your voice. She glanced at the clock on the wall that displayed digits she seriously did not want to see.

She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she saw you with her own eyes, until she could touch you and confirm that you were truly safe.

Her hands immediately went back to her phone, wondering if your co-workers would even answer a distress actress concerned about her girlfriend if there was a high and 100% chance they were wasted with you. Obviously, each call went straight to voicemail.

Why is being sent on delivered the most humiliating ever!?

"Fuck," Jenna cursed under her breath, her head lowered in defeat as she stared at the countless of messages she sent to your friends, co-workers, shit even your family!

The only thought going through her head is "thank you for birthing Emma Myers."

emma

just said goodbye shes round the corner

sent one attachment

going back to her place

Even light couldn't travel as fast compared to how quickly Jenna reacted when that attachment processed in her brain. It was a photo of you (thank fuck), looking a bit tipsy, sure, maybe knocked in the head, but you were unharmed, waving goodbye to Emma.

The wave of relief that washed over Jenna felt like an overall baptism—a splash of water to commemorate coming back to a harsher reality than she didn't expect, but reality nonetheless.

She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but she shoved the thought aside. Her focus was on you, and getting to you as fast as possible.

If you weren't going to come back home sooner or later, she'd come to you. Geared up and mentally preparing everything to combat the cold weather, plants of how she would take care of you, and a surprise. Aka, her.

Is what she would've followed through if she didn’t hear the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.

The sound was so abrupt. Too sudden and swift it nearly made her jump out of her skin unlike any scare people tried on her.

Her heart pounded as she turned towards the door, hoping, begging, and nearly willing the universe to grant her at least one moment of sanity. She watched the door creak open, and there you were—alive. You stumbled in, eyes bleary but safe, and Jenna felt the tension drain from her body as if it had never been there.

"Y/n—!" Jenna's sudden movement was a blur, barely having time to embrace yourself before she collided with you, the force of her embrace nearly knocking out the ragged breath you had left.

You could've noticed the slight tremble in her frame, heart pounding against your chest, and a hand clinging onto your shirt that pulled you closer if you weren't drunk.

“Daaamn, girl, you walk faast! I swear we dropped you at your street?? Why are you in—shit—in my house??” Your voice slurred and you stumbled as if the very act required more effort than you could muster, mind sluggish and your sense dulled, voice thick and unsteady.

You were undeniably and completely fucked. To say the least.

Drunk, Intoxicated. Mentally impaired. Right, how could Jenna even forget that?

You barely managed to step inside when your legs gave out, sending you tumbling to the floor.

The world tilted and spun around you as if you were a sun blinded by its own solar system. Your vision blurred and you struggled to make sense of the swirling images and a familiar blobby brunette girl in your home.

To no surprise, Jenna was at your side in an instant, crouching down with her face filled with concern as she looked you over, her arms reaching out to steady you. "Y/n… Why on earth do you have a huge straight bump on your forehead?"

"I…" you mumbled, blinking up at her. Her face looked like one of those spiky and blobbed images you see through a rain-streaked window. "I was—I was watching one of those 'how to be a good girlfriend in an LDR relationship' videos on the way home. And—and well, there was a pole."

Jenna's expression shifted, concern to curiosity. "What… What? What do you mean? Why? Why are you searching those—"

You felt like your chest was closing in on you, your throat mimicked those of a barren wasteland, and embarrassment washed over you like a tidal wave. You wanted to shrug it off, to laugh and tell her you were just curious, that it was nothing. But you couldn't.

"Because!" you burst out, voice trembling as you looked away from her eyes, "How else am I supposed to believe that I'm good enough when Jenna's halfway across the world? When every time she touches me, it's like she thinks I'm everything you've ever wished for in a star, and I—"

You faltered, your breath catching, the words threatened to slip away from you, but the emotions, doubt and fear—they had been building up for too long. You couldn’t stop now, even if you wanted to.

"I don't deserve it, I'm not enough for her. There's something more that i should be doing, something more I could be, because how can I be enough when she's there and I'm here? I can't hold her, I can't comfort her when she's stressed, I cant show her how much I care every day like I want to. How am I supposed to truly feel that I'm doing fine and she's feeling loved? Every time she tells me that I'm enough, I try to believe her, but—but there's this voice in my head that keeps saying, 'What if she's just saying it? What if one day, she realized she was wrong? That I'm not great, that she's just loving a version of me she created in her head, that she finds a fatal flaw in me that keeps her away from loving me? What if I'm not who she thought I was?"

You can't speak anymore, but your mouth persists in words like a machine. Your eyes already welled up, you bit your lip to stop it from trembling and forming a frown.

"I want to be perfect for her. I want her to feel like she's never missing anything from me or feel like she's falling short from the love she gives me and I give her. But I don't know how to do that. I don't know anything. So I watch those stupid videos to hope I'll find a way to be enough, to finally feel like I am. But no matter what I do, it feels like it'll never be. How can I be it when I'm not with her? How can I be enough from so far away?"

Tears blurred your vision as you tried to reach out, "I just miss her, Emma. I just miss her so damn much. I thought I could handle it, you know? That I could be strong, that I could keep it together until the next time I saw her. But it's been too long, I keep feeling like I'm falling apart. That my relationship is falling apart for her. I thought maybe if I just stepped back, she'd find what she needed without me getting in the way."

"I try to keep things feeling normal. I try to tell myself that the distance is temporary, that we’re strong enough to make it through, but what if we’re not? What if the longer this goes on, the more we rip apart? I don’t want to lose her, but I feel like I’m losing pieces of us every day."

"I'm scared, Emma," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared that one day, she'll take all her words back, she'll realize it's not enough. That every text she sends me is in complete dread, that she's just staying for the hell of it. That she finds a better relationship than what we have now."

Your gaze was locked on the floor, but Jenna's eyes were on you, wide and creased with confusion. The words you've thrown at her just echoed in her mind, looping relentlessly until they became the only thing she could hear along with the race of her heart thudding so loudly. She had been silent the whole time, listening to you pour out your fears, insecurities, on how much you've missed her.

She shouldn't have. She wasn't Emma.

Jenna's eyes flickered to you, your eyes was stuck on the floor, your shoulders slumped as if you were carrying the weight of the world. And in that moment, despite the ache in her chest, all she wanted was to hold you. It's the only thing that felt natural for her.

She closed the gap between you two, close enough that her knees brushed yours, and slowly enough as if she were afraid that you might pull away. The contact felt like a connection, barely there, yet it grounded you and your worries. It felt familiar.

Jenna's breath as she looked at you, her eyes searching your face for any sign that you were uncomfortable, that you were still here with her.

Without a word, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around you at last. Her touch was tentative, she was unsure you wanted her there, but as her hand rested on your back, she felt the subtle rise and fall of your breathing. You were relaxed in her arms, you became yourself underneath her hands. She pulled you in closer like she was trying to shield you from the weight of whatever thought you had put on yourself.

"Y/n," she spoke, you knew that voice. it wasn't distant or abstract, it was real, present, and undeniably her. You knew this. The fact that you didn’t pull away. You didn’t flinch. In fact, the moment her presence reached you, it was as if a piece of you had been anchored to the ground again.

You knew her.

The warmth of her skin, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as you let yourself pull in her, it was familiar, comforting. You hadn't even realized how tightly you've been holding onto your fears and worries. But now, with her, they're no longe the loud and consuming force they had been before.

"Jenna?" you whispered, your voice was barely audible, trembling as it left your lips and hope it gets through with her.

It was the first time you had said her name aloud in her presence. You could feel her heartbeat against her chest, the steady rhythm that took both of you off. You pulled away from her embrace, looking at her as if you saw a ghost.

"I'm back home," she whispered back, her voice soft like it never changed.

Her words settled into your bones, offering a comfort that you didn't realize you've been craving so desperately. And for the first time in what felt like a long time, you allowed yourself to believe them. She wasn’t just saying it—she meant it. Jenna was here, she wasn’t going to leave.

You didn’t care what she had to say; it felt impolite, selfish even, but all you wanted was to crash into her arms like you had before. You were no longer standing at a distance. You didn’t think, you didn’t hesitate, you just moved.

With a sudden rush, you wrapped your arms around her as if she were the only lifeline you had in a world that felt like it was spinning out of control.

You clung to her as you murmured her name over and over again as if it was a prayer the heavens needed to hear. Your fingers gripped the fabric of her shirt and every part of you was aware of her. How her body felt against yours, the way she held you felt like a promise saying she wouldn't let you go in her life.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, your voice shaking as you pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, your tears blurring your vision. "I'm sorry for everything. For doubting you, for pushing you away when you clearly didn't want to.

"You’re finally here," you murmured, as you looked up at her, "You’re back with me."

Jenna's grip around you tightened, and you could feel her smile that always made you float in the air, even though you couldn't see it. "I missed you," she said softly, "I was so worried about you and I kept thinking about all the things we used to do together. I missed the way you laugh, the way you always know how to make me feel better. I just wanted to hear your voice again, to feel close to you. Don't worry about falling short, I'm already standing on a mountain of love that you've given me."

It was her, she was the same Jenna you've always loved. How she held you in your arms, how she kissed you after apologizing countless of times, how she feels in your arms, how she moves, how she laughs, how she makes you feel like you're safe and secured. Uncertainty washed away from you.

[pillowspace]

The Magnus Archives Fic Rec List

Press the read more for recommended fanfiction of The Magnus Archives! Never heard The Magnus Archives and are interested?

Current number of fics: 85

last updated March 18th, 2024

These are all works that I have personally read at least a couple thousand words of and enjoyed myself, so this list will reflect my own reading habits

If you are the author of a fic, you can request your work be removed from the list. Everyone should be comfortable

Table of Contents - 1. England Jonmartin-centric, 2. Scottish Safehouse Period, 3. Gen or Background Pairings, 4. Time Travel, 5. Highly Alternate, 6. Gerrymichael, 7. Other, 8. Updates (note: some categories tend to overlap. Only one will be prioritized)

England Jonmartin-Centric

∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘

Full, Riotous Bloom by BigTed

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding…” Jon looks at him. Looks at him. The look of a boss whose employee was late three times last week, the look of a man who was just busy doing something really important and now he’s here, doing this instead. “...why he stole a grieving family’s oven gloves.”

-

Martin has a run in with a deadly Leitner, leaving him choking on his unrequited love.

M | Words: 66,962 | Chapters: 13/13

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

fell in your opinion when i fell in love with you by Athina_Blaine

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“This is the Magnus Institute, not a creative writing course at university. If that doesn’t agree with him, he can leave.” There was a thud and the sound of rifling tapes. “He can take his bloody tea with him.”

Martin’s fingers tightened on the saucer. Oh.

-

Martin knows better than to talk about it. It's fine. He's fine.

Part 1 of it's only when i hit the ground it causes all the grief

M | Words: 18,987 | Chapters: 2/2

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Just a Little Bit Pet-tea by arthureameslove

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin makes Jon tea for the first time about a week into his transfer. It’s horrible. Gag-reflex inducing. Somehow sporting all the wrong flavors.

For some reason, he does not have the heart to break this to Martin.

Little does Jon know that Martin actually makes wonderful tea. Just not for him.

G | Words: 13,335 | Chapters: 3/3

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Misshapes, Mistakes, Monsters by ZaliaChimera

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

The Archives are his and stepping away from them, even for a night��� it’s strange. Like he’s pretending to be someone else.

Like he’s pretending to be human.

Jon and Martin attend Jon's Oxford University Reunion.

T | Words: 7,969 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Say You Love Me (Learn to Lie) by iamcringebutiamfree

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

It shouldn’t have been surprising to learn that Martin hated him. He had been, he knew, a truly terrible boss - he’d treated Martin horribly, caused him to lose his home, nearly gotten him killed. Really, it had been ridiculous to ever think that Martin wouldn’t hate him.

Still, Jon had been trying, in his own way, to make it up to him. There wasn’t exactly a card at the drugstore that said, “I’m sorry I berated you for six months and caused you to nearly be eaten by a swarm of worms of potentially supernatural origin,” but he’d been trying. He brought Martin breakfast every morning, made sure the breakroom cabinets were stocked with his favorite blends of tea, and had tried to work some genuine praise into his feedback of Martin’s work. None of it was the direct apology that his conscience told him he really ought to give, but Martin had appreciated it. Or seemed to, anyway.

Jon wasn’t certain what motivated the decision he made next - whether it was guilt or spite or something else. He could, he knew, be quite petty when the situation called for it. Either way, he made up his mind then and there to prove Martin wrong. He was going to be the best fake boyfriend he could be.

A Fake Dating AU!

T | Words: 37,889 | Chapters: 10/10

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

a consideration of tropes by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Do you know much about cataloguing?” Jon asks, a little out of breath from the stairs.

Martin, mid-trolley, rolls his eyes. The gesture he makes at the shelves around him is only emphasised by the book he’s holding.

“What exactly do you think I do here, other than sit around and wait for angry patrons to yell at me?”

“Think of what you’re going to yell back?” Jon says, and Martin’s mouth twitches into a smile.

-

Asking the very important question: what if Jon and Martin had a gentle archives/library romance, and kept running into tropes? What if there was mutual pining involved? Only one bed? Fake dating? Hurt/comfort? Or perhaps, a soft and happy ending?

T | Words: 40,966 | Chapters: 8/8

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

It Serenely Disdains to Destroy Us by trill_gutterbug

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin gnaws his lower lip. “Do you think he’ll - I mean, do you think it’ll be…”

Melanie's smile becomes a little less of a grimace. She claps his shoulder. “Martin. It’ll be fine. It’s only temporary. He’s not moving in.”

Martin chuckles. “Yes. Of course.”

-

Jon's flat is being fumigated. He is not impressed. Martin offers his spare bedroom.

T | Words: 13,048 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

terror management theory by prismatical

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Melanie King & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Basira Hussain & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist (briefly)

“It’s a preexisting condition,” Jon explains, sipping more bitter tea. “I sort of got—hm. You know Spiderman?”

Tim raises an eyebrow.

“Heard of him, yeah.”

Jon nods, studying his tea.

“It’s sort of like that,” he says. “A spider killed and ate me when I was a child, and now I can’t stay dead.”

-

Resurrection isn't all it's cracked up to be.

T | Words: 36,587 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Clutching Daffodils by Gemi

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin has always liked the idea of love at first sight.

It’s such a romantic idea, the whole thing of it. Seeing someone and instantly feeling that strange, twisting feeling deep inside that every single media likes to obsess over. Of knowing you are in love within the day, petals falling from your mouth and warmth filling your chest as love burrows deep, vines twisting through your lungs.

He always liked the idea of it.

And then Jonathan Sims starts working at the Magnus Institute.

NR | Words: 7,624 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

a little love, a little sympathy by Did

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

And then Jon is snarling into his face, demanding what are you hiding with a strange, bright-eyed intensity Martin has never seen from him before, and Martin thinks god, maybe he should just come clean about his CV, Jon thinking he's a fraud can't be any worse than Jon thinking he's a murderer-

Martin opens his mouth to speak. To his absolute horror, what actually comes out is: "I used to pretend to cry because I liked how nice you were to me when you thought I was upset!"

G | Words: 3,308 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

all resistance wearing thin by DivineProjectZero

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin Blackwood would do anything for Jonathan Sims. The Web made him that way, after all.

T | Words: 4,799 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟──────��────────────────────🌟₊∘

Sam nie pojmuję, jak w twe zajdę progi by Mad_Maudlin

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin's been acting odd since Jon came back. Well, odder than usual.

T | Words: 3,118 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Mundanity by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Inspired by @ themlet's post on Tumblr: Jon has to deal with normal human interactions. Martin helps (sort of). Featuring high school reunions, knitted sweaters, and conversations on the bus ride home.

T | Words: 3,097 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Musical Mechanism by Darblesify

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin has always used music to cope. One day he's playing music music out loud in the archive and Tim and Sasha realize the main singer's voice sounds familiar.

AKA Martin's favorite band might happen to be the one Jon was secretly a part of in college.

T | Words: 21,411 | Chapters: 8/8

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Misfiled and Misinformed by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

Jon and Martin are married. Tim and Sasha know this. What they don't know is that it's to each other.

T | Words: 2,507 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

look no further by inkyindigo

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin just wants to keep Jon safe. Sometimes the easiest way to do that is to bodily remove him from harm's way.

or, a collection of times Martin picks Jon up.

T | Words: 15,145 | Chapters: 8/8

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Touch Me, Even if it Hurts by AuralQueer

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Alice "Daisy" Tonner

People don't really touch Jonathan Sims unless they want to hurt him. That's mostly fine. Jon has never been a tactile person, and he doesn't need anyone but himself.

Except the world is falling down around him, and loneliness aches, and sometimes he'll take anything - even cruelty - just to feel human again.

*A story set between s1 and s4, looking at Jon's relationship with touch, friendship, and his own humanity.

T | Words: 6,540 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

I'll bring the motion by callmearcturus

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

A long series of kidnappings and international flights leaves its own special mark on someone. Before the Unknowing, Jon is a mess.

Martin helps.

(based on this amazing art by linecrosser)

T | Words: 3,127 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

thanks for the company by lukeskqwalker

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin had been baffled by how easily he spilled his guts out to this odd stranger. Now, Martin is more baffled by the baggy My Chemical Romance t-shirt he's wearing, paired with tasteful plaid pajama bottoms.

Or, Martin gets a visitor in his dreams. Reliving the same 14 days of loneliness every night isn't as bad when you have company.

T | Words: 4,314 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

stranger, stranger by blueskiddoo

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Sure,” Georgie says, still laughing at him. At least someone is having fun. “Don’t you have assistants for that kind of thing?”

“Yes, but…” He huffs, scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn’t going to ask one of them to download an app called...Lover? Lov-rrr? I don’t know how you say it.” He flaps his hands dismissively. “There are--unions and such. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

*

jon makes a fake account on a dating app to investigate a statement. tim sets martin up with fake account on a dating app to boost his self-confidence. it goes exactly how you might expect.

G | Words: 36,771 | Chapters: 11/11

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by heartshapedguy

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Have you got anywhere to stay?” Jon asks him, briskly. “Friends, acquaintances, maybe, who you could stay with…?”

Martin flushes, deeply. “I, I mean— n-no, not really,” he stammers, and then goes even redder. “Or, just, y’know not that I’d want to, to. Put in the middle of this. Put in danger of, of worms.”

“Ah,” Jon says, “No, of course, that makes sense.” Why drag anyone else into this mess? Seven people died during Prentiss’s initial hospitalization; the collateral damage of roping someone from outside the Institute into her orbit doesn’t bare thinking about. “In that case…” Jon feels like there’s some alternative solution, one he’s just not thinking of at the moment, but it evades him, and Martin needs somewhere safe to stay. “My couch is quite comfortable. You’re welcome to come and stay with me until you figure something else out.”

Martin is held hostage by Jane Prentiss for two weeks, and can't go back to his flat. Jon offers him a place to stay until Prentiss and her worms can be dealt with, and they can be sure he's safe.

T | Words: 65,951 | Chapters: 19/19

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

true kinda love by Did

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

So. Martin isn't expecting anything to happen. But then, one day, something...does happen. It happens when Martin is passing Jon in the hall, and stops to ask how he’s doing, because Jon always looks a little bit like hell these days, and it makes Martin feel like he has to do something, and useless small talk is pretty much all he can do, so that’s what he does. And instead of grunting or shrugging or mumbling something dismissive, Jon replies, with perfect, involuntary clarity, "Every part of me aches, and I would just about kill to have someone rub my shoulders right now."

There's a positively deafening silence as they both come to grips with this unprecedented turn of events. Then they both start talking at once.

"Ah," says Jon.

"Wow," says Martin, at the same time.

G | Words: 5,053 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

hey stranger by ennuijpg

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Based on this post about alt jon on tumblr because it's all I've been thinking about of late.)

T | Words: 2,701 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Sun-kissed by Rauchendes_GNU

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner

Martin doesn’t have any freckles. Jon has watched him and the others for a while now, and he knows that everyone has freckles. Tim is absolutely covered in them, and he seems to get more and more every day as Sasha seems very determined to kiss every part of Tim that is not yet covered in tiny dark spots.

Everyone has been loved by someone at some point. Everyone has been kissed, no matter if a platonic peck on the cheek or a heated kiss on the mouth. Everyone but Martin, it seems.

Or: Jon realises Martin has never been kissed. He rectifies that right away.

T | Words: 3,407 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

skin deep by isthepartyover

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker & Jonathan Sims

“Hello, Martin Blackwood speaking.”

“Oh thank god-” a woman’s voice answered, rushed and panicked, and Martin immediately closes the folder he was leafing through absent-mindedly and snaps his head towards the door. “Sorry, oh god, I’m Georgie, I’m Jon’s friend, I don’t know what to do-”

(au where georgie calls martin post burn)

M | Words: 3,125 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Take Care of You (And I'll Take Care of Me) by Mad_Maudlin

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

When Martin Blackwood met the new research assistant, his heart skipped a beat. Too bad Jonathan Sims seems to hate him.

(A soulmates AU)

M | Words: 20,386 | Chapters: 6/6

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Somebody That I Used to Know by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner (background), Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker

(Minor) SPOILERS FOR MAG 161!!!

Jon gets replaced by the Not!Them. Life goes on.

T | Words: 6,358 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

a six-step process by bluejayblueskies

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin stands next to him on the train. His hand rests just beneath Jon’s where it grips one of the metal poles, and Martin takes care not to brush against him despite how crowded the car is. Jon considered telling Martin, when they first got on the tube, that it was okay—that his touch would be… well, it wouldn’t be bad. Not like Nikola's. But he’d stayed silent, allowing Martin to cultivate a careful space between them. They’ve been silent for the past twenty minutes as they’ve passed by station after station on their way to Martin’s flat in Brixton.

Jon adds 24 hours onto his mental countdown of the time he has left until he’s allowed to break down and tells himself that he can manage. It’s… important to have goals, he thinks. He splits this one into steps.

Step one: get to Martin’s flat without crying.

Part 2 of touch prompts

T | Words: 2,138 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

who's there? by bubonickitten

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Jon has a panic attack after Elias shows him exactly what happened behind the door after Mr. Spider took its victim.

Martin helps him calm down, and Jon tells him the story of his first Leitner.

Part 2 of thresholds

T | Words: 6,139 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Clothes Have No Gender by kristsune

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Jon wears a skirt to the Institute for the first time, and gets reactions he hadn't expected.

NR | Words: 1,846 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

northwest 6 to gale 8. rain. poor, occasionally good. by chewsdaychillin

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

A voicemail made up of a female robot and Jon’s professional work tone tells him to leave a message, but Martin hangs up before the beep. He’s not even sure he can speak, let alone put this into words.

‘Hi Jon, sorry to call at four fifty-two AM. My mum just died and I don’t know what to do or how to feel. Call me back when you can! Love you, bye!’

AUish where Jon is alive when Martin's mum passes away, helps him grieve and heal (and they maybe admit to being in love)

Part 1 of northwest 6 to gale 8

M | Words: 35,828 | Chapters: 9/9

Scottish Safehouse Period

∘₊✧────────────────────────────✧₊∘

Resigned, Though Not to Fate by inkfingers_mcgee

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“You’re really suggesting this,” Martin says, voice pulled thin.

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“You would- actually do it?”

“I would.”

“With me.”

“Yes, Martin.”

“Why?” Because love is blind, says something cliché and cruel in the pit of his gut. Christ, he never was much of a poet, was he?

Or,

When Jon asks Martin to Quit the Archives with him, Martin says yes. Things don't go as planned. In the Scottish Highlands, they hurt, and they heal.

(Re-written as of 22-12-27; see chapter 9 for more info.)

T | Words: 145,748 | Chapters: 9/9

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

nor any more youth or age than there is now by Ravenesta

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

The local Primary school has a new teacher. He is, to say the very least, odd.

A series of statements regarding the interactions of the townsfolk with one Jonathan Sims, never formally given.

T | Words: 6,512 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

There's a 15th Fear, and it's Teenagers by captloverboy

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Georgie Barker & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Melanie King & Jonathan Sims, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood & Basira Hussain, Basira Hussain & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Helen | The Distortion & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Helen | The Distortion & Basira Hussain, Helen | The Distortion & Martin Blackwood

What if Jonah didn't ruin everything? Didn't send the end of everything statement? What do Jon and Martin do now? Get a job, I guess. A teaching job, for Jon, though it was hardly his first pick. But sometimes your boyfriend looks *really* excited when he suggests it, and I mean, you know literally everything. It can't be that bad, right? Right?

T | Words: 26,140 | Chapters: 14/14

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

the Teacher from the Magnus Archives by Athina_Blaine

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Hey, everyone, welcome back to my channel. My name is Maggie Abernathy and today we will be continuing our investigation of the, uh, eldritch monster slash English teacher who calls itself Jonathan Sims.”

-

Maggie is determined to catch Mr. Sims via her channel, and then everyone would see how cool and smart she was, right?

T | Words: 5,993 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Please Don't Tease Me Like You Did Before by bazemayonnaise

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin is grinning at his phone when Jon comes home. This is not an unusual occurrence, but Jon can sense that the particularly smug smile being levelled at him means that whatever is entertaining the man has something to do with Jon.

“Yes?” he asks once he has dumped the day at the door. “What have I done now?”

Part 1 of Jon and Martin teach at a Scottish Catholic School

G | Words: 5,380 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

beloved of jon by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Oh,” says Jon, numbly. “You don’t. Remember? Um. It’s complicated. What… what do you remember?”

Martin seems to shrink in on himself a little. It hurts to watch, especially after how Jon’s seen him so painstakingly grow back into his openness over the past few weeks.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t – I don’t.”

“But you remember me?” says Jon, and he tries to keep as much feeling out of that question as he can.

---

For no reason that Jon can tell, Martin forgets.

T | Words: 12,739 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

every good intention (is interpretation) by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

They’re standing entirely too close to each other in front of the hotel desk when the clerk asks them whether they’d like a double, twin, or two singles, and Martin absolutely bottles it.

‘Uh,’ he says, at exactly the same time as Jon says, ‘Oh.’

———

There’s a conversation that Martin and Jon need to have after the Lonely. Unfortunately, they are - historically - fairly terrible at putting stuff into words.

G | Words: 11,227 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

These words that make a home in my chest by arthureameslove

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

The moment Martin leaves the Lonely is the moment he realizes that it has taken something from him. He is left with the realization that the Lonely fog had been the only thing keeping him whole, keeping him from feeling the aching hollows of his own sorrow.

Speaking makes it worse, so he doesn't. He almost expects Jon to leave, to grow tired of him, incomplete as he is. But Jon doesn't.

Or, Martin is mute after leaving the Lonely, and he and Jon learn how to be people again, together, in the comfort of the Scottish Highlands.

T | Words: 16,060 | Chapters: 7/7

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

T | Words: 15,864 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

i’m almost me again, you’re almost you by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

After a second Jon steps in towards him, close enough that Martin flinches, but all Jon does is put two fingers under his chin with his free hand and raise it until Martin can’t duck away. Jon has never touched him so casually before – at least, not until today, and it raises a lot of thoughts and feelings that Martin is trying very hard not to process.

Much like a lot of other things that have happened, he thinks. Not that it’s horrible or terrifying or numbing like everything else has been: it’s just another thing on the list of things he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

---

In the wake of the Lonely, there's a lot that Martin doesn't really want to think about.

G | Words: 12,928 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Prenons-nous la main by luftballons99

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

T | Words: 6,027 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Diary by luftballons99

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

Part 1 of showing your hand

T | Words: 5,178 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

the umbrella by Wildehack (tyleet)

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

"And to think—all of Jonah Magnus’ carefully laid plans, the centuries of scheming, the murders, the sacrifices, all of that work could have been completely undone if Martin Blackwood had gone back for an umbrella" - holdthosebees

M | Words: 4,662 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

ready to call this love by yewgrove

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

How is Martin supposed to tell Jon that he panicked, stupidly, when the lovely old lady down the village asked him what they were doing in this part of the world? Got the shopping! Oh, by the way, we're married now! Whole village thinks we're on our honeymoon, hope you don't mind!

Part 1 of it is what you have.

G | Words: 5,650 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? by pantsoflobster

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Jon,” Martin said. “I have made a grave mistake.”

Jon whipped his head up, nearly tossing the elastic from his messy bun. “What? What’s wrong? What--what did you do?”

“I... might have invited guests for dinner.”

Jon stared blankly. “What, here?”

“Seeing as this is where we live at the moment, yes.”

---

In which a week in the safehouse turns into a fake-married sitcom, because they deserve to worry about social ineptitude instead of the apocalypse for a minute

Part 1 of this is not the house that pain built

T | Words: 5,391 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Bergamot, Buckskin, and Lace by Qpenguin98

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Jon's never been a touchy person.

T | Words: 3,061 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

be kind, i beg you by gauras

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Fine,” Jon says, and he tries to ignore the sulky tone of his voice, “fine. What do you suggest?”

Martin pauses, like he’d not expected Jon to give in so easily. Jon’s never been particularly agreeable, but he still feels vaguely offended by the blatant surprise. “W-we,” Martin stammers, clears his throat, continues on much more confidently, “we go in together.”

Or: it takes close quarters and a full 24 hours to finally get them on the same page.

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

T | Words: 14,946 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

tides turning by gauras

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

There's more than one way to say I love you.

T | Words: 20,858 | Chapters: 1/1

Other Scottish Safehouse Period fics: see unassigned supplementals by bibliocratic in Other

Gen or Background Pairings

∘₊✧────────────────────────────✧₊∘

a deeply annoying child by ajkal2

No Archive Warnings Apply, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, blink-and-you-miss-it Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, BUT NO SLASH WHILE ANYONE IS A CHILD

Jon is hiding under the desk.

----

There's a child in the Archives, who shouldn't be there.

G | Words: 9,631 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟─────────────���─────────────🌟₊∘

Head in the Lion's Mouth by renwhit

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Danny Stoker & Tim Stoker, Danny Stoker & Jonathan Sims, Basira Hussain & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Danny Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Past Tim Stoker/Sasha James, Danny Stoker & Helen Richardson, Danny Stoker & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Danny Stoker & Melanie King, Basira Hussain & Tim Stoker, Basira Hussain & Danny Stoker

He fell into a deep bow, smiling the whole while. “I’m the ringmaster, of course.”

“Is that skin— Is it yours?” Old wood groaned as the Archivist shifted his weight. “Originally.”

“It is!” the ringmaster said as he swooped back upright. “Nikola decided I wore it well, so she let me keep it. Why do you ask?”

The Archivist gave him another once-over. “You just… you look familiar. Like someone I know.”

On relearning, reconnecting, and redefining.

Part 1 of Come What May

M | Words: 157,202 | Chapters: 17/17

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

reach inside (to find your heart is beating) by ivelostmyspectacles

No Archive Warnings Apply, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker

This is Tim, opening the door enough for his tired, careworn face to peer through the crack; Jon sees the genuine horror on his face as he takes in his boss, bloody on his doorstep, and he thinks– maybe– he thinks he might be safe here.

“Christ.”

Chapter two added January 17th!

T | Words: 5,774 | Chapters: 2/2

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Fractals Upon Fractals by cedarbranch

No Archive Warnings Apply, Michael & Helen Richardson

“There was never meant to be two of us,” said Helen.

Or: Michael and Helen play a game of chess, and work out what it means exist in duplicate.

G | Words: 1,652 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Other gen fics: see Time is Hard by Serazimei in Time Travel

Time Travel

∘₊✧────────────────────────────✧₊∘

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, x2!, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking.

The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him.

"I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

--------

Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

T | Words: 53,319 | Chapters: 12/12

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Déjà Vu by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

Sasha remembers being unmade.

Tim remembers being Unknown.

Jon and Martin remember being unwound.

All of them think they're the only one.

--------

The S1 crew wakes up in the past with memories up till the moment they died.

T | Words: 37,652 | Chapters: 4/4

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Reflection by LazuliQuetzal

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Emma

Jonathan Sims, researcher at the Magnus Institute, is seeing a ghost. Of himself.

Of course, it’s not really him, no matter what secrets it knows, or how many arguments it brings up. So if it tells him to do something?

Obviously, he’ll be doing the exact opposite.

(AKA: Jon is an idiot, past and future, but somewhere along the way it all cancels out.)

(Expect general spoilers for S4 and specifically, MAG 158.)

T | Words: 51,527 | Chapters: 10/10

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Time is Hard by Serazimei

No Archive Warnings Apply, Michael | The Distortion & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Elias Bouchard & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Michael Shelley & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Michael "Mike" Crew & Michael Shelley

The Eye isn't happy with how the end of the world turned out. Neither are Jonah and Jon. There is no other option but to rewind time and go down a different path. But time is hard for The Spiral and The Web likes to meddle.

This is how Jon finds himself back in his eight year old body with all his memories, some of his powers intact and a strange bracelet around his right wrist. Saving the world, Jon realizes soon enough, is much harder when no one takes you seriously.

Part 1 of Diverging Times

M | Words: 170,443 | Chapters: 60/60

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

The Cube Rule of Food Identification by bluejayblueskies

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin stands abruptly. His chair spins away from him, wheels squeaking on the cheap lino floor. The tension between him and Jon has reached never-before-seen levels. Tim could probably cut it with a knife. Or a particularly sharp spoon.

Then, Jon lurches forward and half-clambers atop the desk and kisses Martin, and Tim drops his sandwich.

.

Or, season one Jon and Martin receive memories from the future mid-argument, and Tim and Sasha receive emotional whiplash.

T | Words: 1,630 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

a map of what matters most by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Is that a body,” Tim blurts before he can stop himself, rising to his feet. Martin looks, if possible, even more scared.

“He’s alive!” he hisses, almost defensively. “It’s not - it’s not Gertrude again, I didn’t kill him, he just – I don’t know what happened to him, I just found him in the stacks like this.”

“And you dragged him up here?” Tim says, and then registers several things at once – the build, the hair texture; the little round scars peppering a pair of thin hands and an awfully familiar face. “Wait, is that Jon?”

----

Jon stumbles back into an earlier Archive, looking for a way to fix the world. (Or, mom says it's my turn for the obligatory time travel au)

T | Words: 20,604 | Chapters: 6/6

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall) by OllieoftheBeholder

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker

“So...you’re from the future. In the past. Why?”

“You want the short answer or the long one?”

“Short,” Martin says after a moment’s deliberation. “Until I decide if I trust you.”

The other nods, as if he expected that answer—which, well, if he really is Martin from the future, he probably did. “To stop the world from ending.”

They have one last chance to fix this - one last chance to prevent the Eyepocalypse, to save the world - to save their world. It all hinges on which is the greater force: greed...or love.

Part 1 of leaves 'verse

T | Words: 299,536 | Chapters: 60/60

Highly Alternate

Alternate universes will remain in the other categories, but this category is for alterations that are especially notable in their severity. This will also include any fics where Jon has an important alignment with a different fear entity, whether that be instead of the Eye or in tandem

∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘

The Witch's Cat by Champagne

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“That’s the Witch’s cat,” Tim says, and grins at Martin. “Jonathan Sims, the town’s Witch, said that he’ll marry anyone that manages to get the key from the cat’s collar.”

G | Words: 12,584 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

What Belongs to the Sea by TwoDrunkenCelestials, WhyNotFly

No Archive Warnings Apply, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“My grandmother taught me about selkies,” said the tattooed man. “Said it’s good luck for them to grace your ship. To treat ‘em right, and they’ll guide you safe.”

It had seemed like a reasonable thing to believe.

M | Words: 126,367 | Chapters: 36/36

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

school's out for the summer by kiaronna

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Various Background Relationships, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas

The thing is, Jonathan Sims is someone you’d call the police on if you saw him hanging around a school, those frazzled clothes and bags under his eyes, the frantic muttering and thousand-year stare.

Yet there he sits, headteacher of The Magnus Institute for Gifted Young Minds.

The name’s a bit misleading, it is. They’re in a bad part of town. The parents are either terrible or absent, and the kids—

“They’re monsters,” his new and handsome coworker grins, when Martin’s signature on his contract is barely dry. “Absolute monsters. Get too close and you’ll lose some fingers. Or maybe your mind.”

“They’re babies,” is all Martin can feebly manage, in reply, and Tim’s eyes narrow at the fondness in his voice.

“You’ll learn.”

T | Words: 26,088 | Chapters: 2/2

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

No Archive Warnings Apply, Jonathan Sims & Simon Fairchild, Jonathan Sims & Michael "Mike" Crew, Jonathan Sims & Gerard Keay, Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

T | Words: 59,336 | Chapters: 7/7

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

rituals by doomcountry

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

T | Words: 8,492 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

ships passing in the night by Zykaben

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Tim meets and befriends the new professor on the staff, Jonathan Sim. Tim has also been casual friends with Martin Blackwood for the past year.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Tim to realize that the two of them are married to each other.

T | Words: 5,027 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

all the flowers of all the tomorrows by ivelostmyspectacles

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker & Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims

Martin owns a flower shop.

He starts crushing on the guy from the Magnus Institute, but why does Jon keep needing so many flowers for workplace deaths, anyway??

T | Words: 13,745 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

The Good Ol' Days by SingingInTheRaiin

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

When Jon moves in with his grandmother he becomes fast (if somewhat reluctant) friends with one of the neighborhood kids, a boy named Martin.

Years later, they find each other again at the Magnus Institute, and whatever mysteries they uncover there, they will solve them together.

T | Words: 107,489 | Chapters: 40/40

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

How Particular, My Fondness of You by cedarbranch

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Jon risks a glance over to Georgie, expecting sympathy, or perhaps a grave expression of solidarity. Instead, he’s met with a fond smile. “Oh, Jon,” she says patiently, reaching over to rub his back. “You poor thing. You’re lovesick.”

Jon recoils. “I am not,” he says accusingly.

-

A college AU in which the whole gang works at the library, Jon is emotionally repressed, and the anonymous Facebook page knows all.

Part 2 of Magnolia Verse

T | Words: 29,263 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

because light reverses, because the dead return by 1248, Tiili97

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

"Very well then, officer, take me away. And Martin?"

"Yes, Elias?"

Elias opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again with a shake of his head.

"Actually, never mind. I will see how it plays out."

Martin let out an annoyed sigh as Elias left. Always so goddamn cryptic.

Hopefully Jon and the others would be back soon to make sense of things.

-

Here's a hypothetical question: What would happen if no one noticed that Jonathan Sims survived the Unknowing?

What if they looked at his stopped heart and still lungs and decided he was dead?

What happens when you bury an Archivist?

T | Words: 9,491 | Chapters: 5/5

Gerrymichael

∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘

Echo Chamber by orphan_account

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley

“Look, if you’re another, uh, avatar of a horrible eldritch demon god come to assassinate me in a spooky manner, could you get it over with quickly? I haven’t eaten all morning and I’m starving.”

The thing that calls itself Michael stares.

“And this sandwich cost most of my weekly salary,” Gerry adds after a belated moment.

Part 1 of Spirals and Eyes

T | Words: 21,439 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Break Me Like A Pattern by TheLibraryBat

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gerard Keay & Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay & Gertrude Robinson, Gertrude Robinson & Michael Shelley

The year is 2011. Michael Shelley is living his life in circles, blissfully unaware of the betrayal that awaits him in the summer. Gertrude Robinson has plans to enact and plans to destroy. Emma Harvey is hiding a book in the dark place at the back of a cupboard.

When Gerard Keay walks into the Magnus Institute - two years sooner than he was meant to - everything changes.

This is an (eventual) Archivist Michael AU, exploring how certain events might have played out, had one key player been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Part 1 of Archivist Michael AU

M | Words: 215,290 | Chapters: 40/40

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Choke Chain by dramatispersonae

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/The Distortion

Things Gertrude Robinson possesses: decades of experience killing, containing, and otherwise thwarting supernatural beings, an uncompromising drive to destroy the Rituals and the people who would see them completed, Gerry's loyalty. Things Gertrude Robinson apparently also possesses: a monster on a magic leash.

NR | Words: 14,814 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Make Me Feel Like I'm Lost by dramatispersonae

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gerard Keay/MichaelGerard Keay/The Distortion

Gerry meets a door that is not a door. And a person that is not a person. Remarkably, he does not get eaten. He would probably like to keep it that way. (Or, in the process of trying to avoid death by nightmare hallway, Gerard Keay accidentally charms the nightmare hallway)

Part 1 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 11,963 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Fill The Gap Between You And I by dramatispersonae

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion

Michael, like a cat, expresses affection with gifts of dead things. Gerry's trying not to be in the business of collecting strays.

Part 2 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 7,377 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

The Life Of Letting Go by dramatispersonae

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion

Gerry suffers a workplace injury. Michael has concerns.

Part 3 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 3,235 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Fever Dreaming by dramatispersonae

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion

Gerry encounters a plot by a nascent avatar of the Corruption. It should be straightforward enough to deal with, especially considering his apparently ongoing... "alliance" with Michael. But when have things in his life actually been as simple as they appear?

Part 4 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 42,284 | Chapters: 5/5

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Please Don’t Eat the Flowers by Sloane

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion, Razor/Wendy, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Instead of retiring to open a book shop, Gerry ends up working at a flower shop run by American lesbians in London. This leads to a brush with the Distortion, who just wants to buy some lilies, the Magnus Institute finding out he’s still alive, and... well, a normal life was never really in the cards for the likes of Gerard Keay, was it?

Oh, and those lesbians who run the flower shop? There’s more to them than meets the eye—bad Beholding pun intended.

(No knowledge of Maniac Mansion required; I take lots of liberties to slot it into TMA’s universe. UNDER MAJOR REVISIONS. Please see last chapter if you’re a new/returning reader for details..)

M | Words: 77,314 | Chapters: 33/?

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Ode to Joy: or, michael distortion's guide to naming yourself by fromthepinnacletothepit

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley

Michael Shelley is sacrificed to the Spiral before he has the chance to come out, even to himself. Now, as an avatar of the Spiral, his identity is even MORE painful and confusing. Alone and filled with pain he doesn't even know how to name, he searches for acceptance in the one person who ever really knew him-Gerry Keay.

***

“What do you want to be called then,” Gerry says and wraps his arms around Michael’s back.

This conversation hurts. This question hurts. Everything hurts, so long as no one knows about his gender, so long as he has to go on being someone he’s not, someone he just can’t be anymore. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand it.

“I dunnooooo,” he says, grinning, but inside he knows his name isn’t Michael. It’s just not. He doesn’t have a name. He never has. And it’s absence is like a hole in his chest.

The creature that might as well be called Michael, it supposes, if you have to call it anything, thinks about this conversation while it sits on the ceiling of its hallway and slowly digs grooves into the plaster with its fingers.

Gerry, it thinks desperately. I have to find Gerry.

G | Words: 14,513 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Save That Heart for Me by cedarbranch

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael

Gerry has just filled up his mug with coffee when it hits him. It’s a faint but sharp pain, zinging through his left wrist. He exhales a puff of laughter. That’s the third time this week. Whoever his soulmate is, they’re having a rough time.

T | Words: 5,577 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

call me your harbor by insertcleveracejoke

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael

There was the matter of the owner. It could not be said that most people, when asked about their mental picture of what the owner of a bookstore should look like, would answer angry-looking goth covered in burn scars from the neck down.

He also had a terrible dye job.

Or: five times Michael went to Gerry's domain for help, and one time the opposite happened.

Part 1 of the bookstore AU

NR | Words: 4,488 | tChapters: 1/1

Other

Fic types I have not read enough of to lend it its own category. If I read more fics of its type, it'll be moved to a new category

∘₊✧───────────────────��───────✧₊∘

unassigned supplementals by bibliocratic

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Oneshot #54: home improvement: or: Jon and Martin vs. IKEA

Oneshot #55: united front: or: Martin helps Jon with his statement hunger . (Set 159/160)

Oneshot #56: evolution: or: There is an uneasy alliance at first, between Jon and the Archivist

(Short TMA JonMartin one-shots, individual warnings in chapter notes, now with a fully-functioning contents page)

G | Words: 73,687 | Chapters: 56/56

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

onto a vast plain by yewgrove

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

The world ends. They get married.

Part 2 of it is what you have.

T | Words: 10,313 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Out There, Somewhere by Artyphex

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

"I'm sorry, you were found alone."

Jon survived the apocalypse and now will go to the end of this new, unfamiliar world to find Martin again.

T | Words: 54,080 | Chapters: 8/8

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

enemy of my enemy by beeclaws

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

Jon comes back from his time with the Circus a little worse for wear. Tim has some feelings about that.

M | Words: 6,263 | Chapters: 4/4

Updates

∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘

a map of what matters most by gruhukens added to Time Travel - Mar. 8, 2024

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall) by OllieoftheBeholder added to Time Travel - Mar. 8, 2024

How Particular, My Fondness of You by cedarbranch added to Highly Alternate - Mar. 18, 2024

call me your harbor by insertcleveracejoke added to Gerrymichael - Mar. 18, 2024

tides turning by gauras added to Scottish Safehouse Period - Mar. 18, 2024

a six-step process by bluejayblueskies added to England Jonmartin-centric - Mar. 18, 2024

who's there? by bubonickitten added to England Jonmartin-centic - Mar. 18, 2024

because light reverses, because the dead return by 1248, Tiili97 added to Highly Alternate - Mar. 18, 2024

Clothes Have No Gender by kristsune added to England Jonmartin-centric - Mar. 18, 2024

northwest 6 to gale 8. rain. poor, occasionally good. by chewsdaychillin added to England Jonmartin-centric - Mar. 18, 2024

[ficnation]

Chapter 4: Bon Appétit

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, 18+, SMUT A/n: I'm really putting off the inevitable here sksksksk. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3 Btw this is my first time writing explicit smut (unedited)

This is also another late piece to @the-slumberparty Bingo Card event (prompt: proposal) - > Events Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Hannibal Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

When Will comes home that night after promising you he’ll only be gone for a few hours, he’s doing anything in his power not to look you in the eyes. He kept his word, coming back exactly three hours and twenty-six minutes later. You stare at him, intrigued. You don’t understand why he’s acting this way, but your mind screams at you that it can’t be anything good—it’s right, like always.

“I resumed my therapy with Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” he informs you after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. He still doesn’t look at you, as he takes off his jacket and boots.

“You did what?” You blink at him in confusion—utterly dumbfounded. The meaning of his words doesn’t even register in your brain. 

“I’m going to keep on seeing Hannibal,” Will repeats in the same monotonous voice.

It hits you like a train, and your stomach churns at the thought of them sitting across from each other, talking about emotions and Will’s life. Your expression turns to one of disapproval as the man expected.

“After everything he’s done, after everything he put you through, why would you do that?”

Will doesn’t respond right away, and you can tell he’s struggling with his words. “There are things I need to learn about myself,” he says finally. “About what it’s like to be me.”

You stare at him, burning invisible holes in his head, trying to decipher what is truly happening here. The guilt that emanates from his person, the fact that he still can’t meet your gaze—it’s more than suspicious. The realization hits you even harder than the fact he wants to be anywhere near Hannibal Lecter.

“Why are you lying to me?” you ask, voice on the verge of breaking. You hate yourself for ever thinking that he trusts you completely after all those years apart. The tears gathering in your eyes are more angry than sorrowful.

For a moment, Will goes silent. The silence is thick, full of tension as the two of you remain in your positions—you watching him, and him with his back turned to you.

Then, he closes his eyes tightly, as if fighting against a headache. He finally speaks, but only after turning slowly to face you. You immediately notice the pained expression on his face, the guilt that drips from his very skin.

“I have to keep seeing him.”

You go to protest again, but the sound of your voice cracks, and no words emerge. Will doesn’t wish to ever hear this noise from you again. It feels criminal—being the one who caused it. His heart breaks in a way it never did before—it stings like someone delivered it one thousand cuts.

You both remain silent for what feels like an eternity. Will doesn’t look away from you, and your eyes are locked on him, on that misery and pain staring right at you. No one moves, no one blinks, no one probably even breathes. Everything is still, except for your heart which aches even worse than it did before. The silence gets so thick you can almost feel it—touch it. For the life of you, you don’t want to be the one to break it.

You want to speak, beg, convince him to stop these mind games, to give you an explanation you could understand. But you choose to keep your mouth shut, slumping further into the cushions of the armchair. 

Will’s eyes don’t leave you. They remain fixed on you as if willing you to speak, to tell him something that would make all of this suddenly go away. Anything.

He wants you to read his mind, and understand his pleas, but you can’t— and even if you could, you wouldn’t. You don’t do anything, don’t even move a muscle and after a few moments of waiting, Will finally breaks the silence.

“I don’t want him to do this to anyone else,” he says. His words are soft and quiet, but they carry a weight that you feel in your chest.

“Yet you didn’t start with that. You chose to lie.” 

Will sighs. He looks exhausted as if you’ve been here asking him questions for hours, even though it’s been twenty minutes at most.

“I didn’t want you to stop me. There, I said it,” he says. “It was hard. Harder than anything I’ve ever done. Can you just cut me some slack over here?”

You don’t answer right away. You don’t know what to think or what to say about this whole situation. It seems absurd, and you have to remind yourself that you might’ve paused your story with Will Graham, but for him time has passed, things have changed.

You’re not proud of the words that leave you next. God, you wish you could just catch them in the air before they have a chance to reach his ears and put them back in your mouth.

“Change your fucking tone, Will.”

You’re shocked with your own words, but Will doesn’t seem annoyed or offended, not like most people would. He’s still staring at you, but you notice the slightest hint of amusement in his expression as if this new side of you intrigued him rather than annoyed him.

“You don’t like me speaking to you like that, my dear?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He makes no attempts to sound serious—just enough to make you laugh, but his words carry weight. He’s genuinely curious.

Will Graham just called you “my dear” and your whole face warms up at this term of endearment as you observe him fall to one knee in front of your person.

“What are you doing?” you choke out, confused, butterflies fluttering wildly in your chest.

Will takes his time to reply, his eyes scanning you and your reactions. He seems to enjoy the sight of you flustered, barely keeping up with what’s happening right in front of your face. His heart skips a beat more than twice in the span of a few seconds.

“I’m proposing.”

The words seem so absurd that you half expect him to break the tension with a quick joke, but he doesn’t. His gaze is glued to you, his words as serious as they can be. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to react. Your mind is frozen.

“What the fuck, Will?”

Will grins at that and shakes his head as if he’d expected your reaction to be no different. He keeps his stance, one knee on the floor, as he stares at you affectionately—with so much love you’re surprised he doesn’t explode from it. The man is enjoying your confusion and the fact that he managed to pull it out of you. He’s not ashamed to admit it, either.

“That’s the kind of reaction I was hoping for,” he says quietly and in a matter of time, his hand is on your thigh, tracing invisible circles on the soft fabric of your pajama pants. “You were always going to say no for the first time.”

You blink at him, trying to coax out words from within you, but you don’t find any. That only makes you even more confused, and your expression turns to a frown. Is he really… asking you to marry him?

“I know, I’m quite the romantic.” He pauses, trying to stifle his chuckle. “Do you want me to ask you the usual way?”

“Will, are you serious?” you ask, your voice so gentle the words barely sound like they’re yours. Will only nods his head. “I don’t want you to ask at all. I want us to get married as soon as possible.”

He reaches down to grab your hands in his. “I never believed in marriage. I’m not sure if I do now either,” he admits awkwardly, playing with your fingers. “But I really want to hear people call you Mrs. Graham.”

Your heart jumps as he speaks as if you’d been waiting for him to admit those words for years. The words sink in slowly and your eyes become distant, as if you’d been taken back in time. A warm feeling spreads across your chest like you just swallowed a whole bottle of wine in one ginormous gulp.

“You know I can’t say no.” Your words are quiet and soft. He pulls you down onto his lap, his hands still around your fingers as he brings them to his chest. “Can I call you mine too?” 

“Always,” Will replies, his voice low and quiet, but full of love and emotion. “It’s been you all along.”

A soft smile rests on your face as you look down at him. Your head is right above his, but you decide to close the tiny distance between you by leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. You feel your heart race as you do so.

“Did you come up with this to distract me?” Your voice is playful, but the air around you is thick and humid. 

Will leans forward and wraps his arms snugly around your waist, hugging you tight. Your fingers play with his curls, his head back on your chest. The whole weight of him hangs onto you like all the sins in the world, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Maybe,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips, even though he seems serious.

You can feel his body shift, and suddenly Will presses you firmly against the growing hardness inside his jeans. The whimper that pushes past your lips as you feel it through the thin layer of your pajama pants is downright desperate. You both can’t hide the fact that your breaths are becoming more irregular, muscles tensing under each other’s hands.

“I like being distracted like this,” you whisper, your nose nuzzling against his temple. 

A low growl comes from the man’s chest. You’re close enough to the source of the sound to feel the vibration against your body. He presses his face to your neck, taking in the scent of your skin like he’s oxygen-deprived.

“Should I distract you too, Will?” you ask him quietly, tugging at his tousled hair.

“You’ve done enough, dear. I’m already distracted.” His voice is soft, and his words catch in his throat. Will doesn’t seem to have a single rational thought going through his head. It’s like all he can process is his need for you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say this was a spell cast on him. “I want you.” His hand moves to your hip, and he presses into you harder, your breath catching in your throat. “Please.”

And who are you to deny him of anything his soul could ever want or need? You don’t wait for more encouragement as your fingers start working on hastily unbuttoning his shirt. They trace the smooth lines of his chest, the scars that mark his skin, and every little detail of him—every part of his history that he once saw as a defect. It’s not. It’s who he is, who he’s always been—his past is a part of what made him the Will you know and love. 

Your fingers slowly make their way down to his belt and unclasp it too in one go. You graze over his hardness on accident, already feeling its heat through the thin layer. You let out a whimper and your whole brain starts to short-circuit. 

“Slowly.” Will’s voice is hoarse and raw, his fingers digging deeply into the skin of your hip. “I want to see you.”

The man doesn’t waste any time in waiting for your reaction as his hand moves up to your face. His touch is gentle as it pushes back your hair, his fingertips rubbing against the skin behind your ear before they start pursuing the shape of your neck—every muscle and tendon.

“Slowly,” he repeats, and you can’t help but groan.

Nevertheless, you obey, letting your hands explore every surface of his flesh again like he’s the perfect puzzle that you need to solve. His own mirror yours, sliding below the thin layer of your t-shirt, grazing over your navel, and pushing upwards.

Every move you make leaves its mark, causing his body to tremble even more. His breath becomes so uneven, you think he might fall apart at any moment. The mere sound sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes, like that,” he mumbles, and his lips are right next to your ear as he whispers these words. His hand moves again and starts to tug at your shirt.

You help him remove it in one go, left in only your plaid pajama bottoms. Will’s touch is familiar, one you could never forget—not like the dozen strangers through the past few years, you never even remembered their faces come tomorrow morning. But his touch sets you ablaze—burns and soothes at the same time, it’s unforgettable.

Will reaches up to pull your head against his so that you’re staring straight at one another. His touch is gentle, but there’s an intensity to it that you can’t mistake. His lips slowly approach yours with such an intense need that you can read it in his gaze. Even though he doesn’t say it, you feel that this kiss is more than just desire—it’s a need to be as close to you as possible, to never let you go again. His tongue delves inside your mouth, and you sigh into it.

The feeling of your skin pressed against his leaves Will desperate, his mind so overwhelmed and in a haze, he can’t even form the words to describe the sensation. His hand keeps moving as if your flesh were an addiction. The sound that leaves from his throat is something so close to a purr—he’s almost embarrassed. 

You feel his body tensing, his muscles flexing against yours, and your skin feels hot and all too sensitive. He’s taking advantage of this moment to touch you anywhere he can reach. His fingers leave no inch of your skin unexplored as he slowly begins to lower your pajama bottoms.

“God, you’re beautiful.” The sound of your voice draws Will’s eyes closed as he inhales deeply.

Will’s fingers glide down toward your legs, and he looks as if all his dreams are coming true at once. You see his eyes flicker open, and he looks at you with such intensity, such concentration, that it’s hard to breathe as you’re pulled along by an invisible force. He finally lets go of your chin so that he can drag your pajamas down further until they’re thrown across the room. 

You take his hands in yours, placing them over your breasts. And it’s only when his teeth drag across your neck, from just above your collarbone down to the crook of your shoulder, that he loses it completely. 

There’s no being slow or gentle when he pushes you away, standing up and pulling you to your feet. You take hurried steps back as he nudges you toward the bed. Soon enough, your calves hit the mattress and you fall back onto the blue duvet. You don’t even have a chance to take a breath, Will is hovering over you, elbows on each side of your head. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, looking deep into your eyes—so deep you’re afraid he can see the broken soul behind them. 

You help him push his jeans and boxers down the length of his legs. The second they’re no longer an obstacle, Will’s fingers delve between your thighs, circling your clit teasingly with the gentlest of touches. Your lips part in a gasp, hands falling onto the covers to clench them in your fists.

“Will, please,” you plead between whimpers. He was the only one who could ever bring you to the point of begging, and you hope he knows it somewhere deep within. 

The man faces you with glassy eyes, swiping the tip of his tongue over his bottom lips. He doesn’t need you to say anything more, he just nods feverishly and lets your fingers guide him inside. The sensation of your heat gripping him tightly makes him groan, lips falling agape. You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing them behind his back, and pull him even closer. 

“Will,” you moan his name against his lips.

It spurs him on, makes him even more eager to please you. He draws back almost completely, then buries himself inside you again in one smooth motion. Your thighs tremble visibly, and it almost makes him smile. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, fingers tugging on his curls. 

Will rocks into you deep and steady, one of his hands digging into the meat of your thigh with so much force it hurts—but goddamn, you love this kind of pain. And he makes it feel even more heavenly when his thumb begins to trace circles over your clit.

It doesn’t take him long to take you over the edge—hard and fast—turning you into a mindless, hot, whimpering mess. You mumble his name over and over again as your heat pulses around his length, making him come just a few moments after you. He claims your mouth with his, making you taste your name on his lips. God, does it taste heavenly.

Night came quicker than you realized, covering the sky with bright stars and a full moon. Despite it, it’s not pitch black outside. The shimmering snow reflects the shining lights, fighting off the darkness well enough. It doesn’t make you feel any less threatened, even though it should.

You’re wrapped only in the blue duvet that covered the bed, as you lie on your side, facing Will, who’s already asleep. His bare thigh is right against yours, and the heat of his skin is almost impossible to resist. You let your eyes wander across his body, his physique—he looks like a sculpture, a masterpiece of flesh and bone.

Your body still aches from his touch, and you feel like you’re a puddle of emotions with the sole mission of holding love, affection, and desire for him. You’re about as far away from being “fine” as possible. You didn’t even get a chance to tell him you’ll be working together from now on. He doesn’t know he’s allowed back in BAU, and you wonder if you should leave him unknowing for as long as possible. It’s not your greatest idea, but the idea of him breaking beyond repair terrifies you.

You try to calm your heart as it races and skips a beat every time his body shifts—the smallest movement seems like it could wake him up. But as you lie there in the darkness, his hand reaches out and finds its rightful place on your thigh again, his fingers barely grazing your skin. The sensation makes you almost jump out of your skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Why are you awake?” he asks with half-closed eyes.

“Can’t sleep,” you reply softly, wanting to touch him back, but not sure if you should.

“I figured,” he murmurs. “You didn’t sleep much yesterday either.”

You sigh sadly, you didn’t think he’d noticed. His hand moves up your thigh, almost instinctively, until it touches you just below your hip. It stops there, and your eyelashes flutter at its warmth against your skin.

“You can touch me.” Will’s voice is so quiet it’s almost inaudible, and you don’t have to be told twice.

Your fingers slip under the duvet, so the fabric doesn’t block your touch, and you begin to trace the outline of his leg with the tips of your fingers. Will’s eyes finally open, and he looks almost nervous at the intimate touch—until you find the spot where he’s ticklish. He lets out an adorable whimper, so naturally, you laugh and keep going.

“No, no, please stop,” Will moans, trying to fight back his chuckles, squirming as he tries to get away from your touch. The whole time he’s half-smiling, his fingers digging into the duvet for stability. He tries to grab your hands, but it only makes you laugh harder. 

You find another ticklish spot on the side of his torso and continue to tease him. Eventually, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you watch Will scoot back, out of your reach. Your sour mood from before is gone in an instant.

Will moves up so that he’s sitting up against the wall, practically on the edge of the bed, and he looks almost offended by your reaction. Your gaze shifts, so you can get a fuller view of him.

“I’m not as ticklish as you think,” he says, his tone serious, though you can still hear a tremble in his voice. “If you wanted to see me squirm,” he adds, “you could’ve found a different method.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you immediately pull the sheets up to cover the bottom part of your face, trying to hide your flustered reaction from his eyes. 

“You’re so cute,” he says, his voice just a whisper, almost as if he was afraid that anything above a murmur could wake the dogs sleeping by the fireplace. “So adorable.”

Will’s hand rests on your head, his fingers playing with the strands of hair that cover your ears. You can feel him studying you—how your nose twitches and your eyes almost close as you wait for his next words. Something about it feels intimate as if he’s taking in every detail of your expression one by one. It’s been a while since he’s done that, you didn’t even realize how much you missed it.

“You can pull it down, you know,” he says playfully, his hand still in your hair. “This must be suffocating.”

“I know,” you say quietly, as you pull the sheets down from your face.

Will’s fingers interlace with yours, and you can feel his thumb circling your wrist. 

“And yes, it is a bit suffocating.” You pull the sheets down to your collarbones, and a chill runs through your body as the cold air touches your arms. “Maybe you can warm me up.” 

Will smiles—a small, sweet smile, with a bit of mischief thrown in.  “Maybe I can,” his tone is playful as he pulls you close, your cheek finding a home on his chest, right above his heart.

After a few long minutes of silence and listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat, you turn to face him, resting your chin above his pec.

“We’re back on the team, you know?” you mumble almost mindlessly.

Will looks down at you, his expression gentle as he caresses your hair. 

“I know.”

His gaze trails down your face and lingers on your lips for a brief moment before it shifts again. There are so many things Will wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to do it—he fears it would ruin these quiet, peaceful moments between you two.

You don’t question how he already knows that, choosing instead to voice your other thoughts—ones that’ve been on your mind almost the whole day. “What did Alana want from you?”

Will’s hand pauses against your face when you bring up her name, and for a moment he seems speechless, which is rare a thing for him.

“I…” He trails off but then speaks again as if he’s found the courage to say the words. “Alana wants me to stay away from Hannibal,” he says quietly, his fingers moving on your cheeks, your brows, your chin, as if his hand isn’t allowed to stay still for a second without touching the flesh it can. “She’s sleeping with him.”

“Why does she want you to stay away?”

“Because I tried to kill him.”

You don’t even blink at his confession, there’s no fear in your gaze—no ounce of surprise. There was a time in your life when this revelation would’ve shocked you, broken you in half, but after your father’s death, when you’re faced with it, it’s… easy to handle. Will expected this kind of indifference, he knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t judge nor be afraid.

“How?”

Will lets your question hang in the air for a long minute before he speaks. He takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Not by my hand—not like that,” he starts. “Hannibal has a lot of… a lot of hold over me,” he pauses again, “he made me want to do it.” It’s probably the most vulnerable, the most genuine explanation Will has given anyone. He’s speaking to you from the heart and in pure honesty. “An opportunity fell on my lap to send someone after him, so I took it.”

You nod your head in acknowledgment—it makes sense to you. “It’s a shame it didn’t work out.”

A hint of a smile appears on Will’s face. He moves his fingers to the nape of your neck and to caress the lines of your ear—it’s something he always used to do when he was thinking and you were nearby. “Alana’s very upset with me.”

Will’s other hand slides over your thigh, his fingers teasing the skin, almost as if he was trying to test it, like a cat with a piece of string. He’s still thinking when his hand starts to move upwards, closer to your hip.

“Don’t take it to heart,” you advise him, leaving a soothing peck on his jaw. It was the best you could do.

“I’m trying.” He laughs in a low rumble, his hand moving between your legs and your whole body tenses. “I’m trying,” he says again.

The touch is so soft and gentle—almost teasing, yet your body seems to be craving it. It makes him nervous, but also excited, and when he closes his eyes his head just falls back to rest against the wall, his teeth showing as he breathes in deeply.

“Would you have done this if I…” his words trail off into silence as the man doesn’t seem certain about how to finish his sentence. He looks at you, his face revealing all the questions that he doesn’t dare to ask.

You grasp his jaw between your hands, encouraging him to speak his mind, but being unconditionally patient at the same time. He tries to say something again, then changes his mind. It’s as if he’s playing a constant game with you, trying to reach into your mind without opening his mouth like most people do.

“If you…”

“If I was still the same,” he mumbles out finally.

“Will, you are still the same person. Perhaps a little more broken than before, but it’s still you.”

Will stays silent and still for a minute with his eyes closed, his hand still between your legs. The tips of his fingers keep barely touching you, almost a caress, although a bit harsher than before.  His lids flutter open, so you can see his face as it’s lit by the moonlight.

“There’s something I’d like you to promise,” he says cautiously as if every word is carefully thought out before he speaks it aloud. “Promise me that you’ll keep trusting in me... even if you don’t understand.” 

Will’s hand moves up from between your legs so that he can touch your waist and hold you in place. The fingers of his other hand stroke your face down to the side of your neck, and you can feel how your heart starts to beat faster and faster with each touch.

“I will always trust you, Will. Just never lie to me again, have a little faith in me too.”

Will lets his eyes fall down to your lips again, and he can’t help but bite his own in response. As if he was trying to hold himself together but the urge to kiss you was almost too strong, the way his gaze kept shifting. 

When his lips touch yours—it’s a long, slow kiss, deep and gentle at the same time. He holds you in place, your hips pressed against his as if he doesn’t want you to move, even a centimeter. And you don’t dream of being anywhere else but here—by his side.

“I love you, Will.”

[majeoeje]

Thousand suns

Tanjiro X Reader

I'd give you my heart even if i knew you’ll break it

He changed you. In was subtle and painfully slow, but it was far too late for you once you realized the hold that Kamado Tanjiro had on you. He practically got you wrapped on his fingers without him realizing

"I accidently bought an extra haori, on my last mission, i thought it would look nice on you" he said, with that priceless smile of his

Now you never left the house without it.

"That's a really beautiful hairpin [name], it suits you well!"

Now you always wear it.

"I love how this tea is so fragrant, thank you so much for bringing it to me" he says, still smiling despite breaking countless of bones in his body

Now a cup of warm jasmine tea always mysteriously appear beside his table every day he lay to rest in the infirmary.

You truly could get lost in the echoes of his voice calling your name as your heart swells in contentment.

GOD. It was embarassing. Some part of you resented how easily swayed you were when it comes to him, acting like a lovesick fool, wearing your heart on your sleeve. But how could you not? When the boy right in front of you has the purest heart out of everyone you ever met in your life. If it was him, you wouldn't mind having your heart break again and again until it could only be recognize as a pile of mush.

But nonetheless, you wouldn't give him your heart. you wouldn't want him to see how tainted you truly are, a tarred and rotten soul.

The only thing beautiful that truly came from your heart was your newfound love for him. But of course you knew it wasn't right for him to be with someone like you, it wasn't right... you should do everything in your power to stop it. But your selfish desires wanted to keep this feeling. Even if it's only for yourself, and you hated that.

"[Name] you're spacing out again.... are you alright?"

He touched your hand, you could feel the calloused hard skin of his palm under your bandaged hand. The warmth in itself could set you ablaze

"Ah- sorry Tanjiro, my mind was.. somewhere else.."

"That is quite alright.... But are you feeling better now? That tree demon was quite the handful is it not? Haha!” he says, trying to lighten the mood, as he always do. You layed helplessly with 8 broken bones and a harsh scar that dragged from your right shoulder to your left waist, his existance could soothe all wounds in your body.

"You're right!.. Ahaha..ha.." you laughed uncharacteristically dry, trying to make your point accross for him to just go away.

But he only sat himself closer to you, before he starts chatting away about his wonderful day with the water hashira Giyuu, and his soba eating contest. It was heartfelt, heartwarming and so so precious. How you wanted to just listen to his voice all day...

"Tanjiro-!..."

He was cut off from his story, looking at you confused

"I think.. it's time for you to go. I am rather-...tired, i wish to rest"

The doubt and hurt expression in your face sent strings of guilt in Tanjiro’s heart, he was so immersed in your company that he didn’t realize your discomfort.

"I apologize for keeping you at bay, please rest well [Name]!” he said, before he sweetly tucked your blanket and fixed your pillow for you

“I’ll write to you! I hope the letters doesn’t get lost in the way this time too”

The familliar sounds of his steps gradually becoming more faint as he went away

"I'm the worst." You say (you are, there’s no doubt about it)

You sat yourself eyes glued to the drawer filled with Tanjiro's unanswered letters. You slowly took one, and held it close to your heart. You could still smell the dried wisteria flowers that he gifted you along side it.

"Well that was..” a voice suddenly said not visible to your line of vision

“INCREDIBLY STUPID.” Goto said, an unlucky Kakushi that by some unfortunate chance had to listen to your pathetic teenage love story.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE???!!" you said, surprised. Has your instincs as a demon slayer weakened over the course of your bedridden days? It has only been a week??

"Maybe if you weren't so enamoured by him, then you'd notice i've been standing here the whole damn time." The vein bulging out of anger in hid forehead was far from not visible.

He was right, despite your efforts in trying to avoid him, everyone could notice how your eyes still wouldn’t budge away from him

"Can you not?..Don't you see that i'm a heartbroken mess??"

"AND WHOSE FAULT IS THAT" he said, as he poked your face aggresively.

You looked at him offended before turning the other way. You both knew the answer

He sighed. He was a 23 year old man, consulting 2 teenagers on their love life. Dream job right here..

But despite his irritated tone. You could tell there was sincerity in his words. You had grown used to his counseling daily over these week.

Well it's not like you could go anywhere else.

"Look kid, i know, you think that you're not good enough for him because of something you did in the past.. but, that kid looks at you-"

"He looks at everyone like that-" you cut off again, before earning an earnest pinch on your arm"

"OW OW-"

"LET ME FINISH." He sighed again "he looks at you as if you hunged the stars, it's wildly obvious. i think that despite what you believe, out of everyone... maybe Tanjiro could forgive you for what you did in the past."

Forgiveness.. could anyone ever forgive you for what you did? You were at fault for the destruction of your whole village. To say that someone in this world would think anything else but vicious of you would be something more self serving.

You were glad you were still face the other way. Because at least you could pretend that you weren't crying over this.

"... you're just saying that to make me feel better..." you said pathetically as you layed on that infirmary bed miserably. You haven't missed a day where you haven't wondered if the outcome would've been different.

"Maybe. But you wouldn't know until you've said something. Don’t throw this away, is all i’m saying" he shrugged, before leaving the infirmary. Leaving you to reflect

You look to the side to find Tanjiro's blade being left behind. He left his sword.. you thought

But it's okay.. you can just ask someone else to retreive it. It's no big deal just don't think about him!

Alone at last..

Alone again.

You were always okay with that. But having to meet Tanjiro, some parts of you could bear to stand it no longer. As if a gnawing feeling to seek his presence haunts your dreams and every waking moment. How could you wish to recover from this? How can you recover from him?

You couldn't..

What if he needed his sword..? You said internally, knowing well he was just going to The Water Hashira’s residence for a meet up. What if he encouter a demon on the way there? Better safe than sorry... you thought, knowing well it's 7 in the morning

The sounds of your steps echoing through the corridor of the butterfly estate, at first Aoi was too busy cooking to notice but the sounds of your painful screech and every huff through your painful steps on the hardwood floors

But your instincts maybe had really dulled because you didn’t hear Aoi coming out of the kitchen

"Going somewhere?"

Aoi says, with the knife that she forgot to set aside in his hand. The murderous aura coming out of her wasn't helping whatsoever...

"....Just taking a walk?.... AhaHA- please put that down, Aoi... "

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE RESTING!!" She yelled at you, scolding you for your behaviour knowing damn well you're supposed to be resting.

What you didn't know however was that Tanjiro was already on his way inside the Butterfly Mansion once again, remembering to retrieve his sword.

Though his hearing wasn't that very good after the fight with upper moon 4 making him walk straight to your heated scolding session.

"Sorry Aoi.." you said, in what you could only describe as your defeated cries.

"Aoi-san? What's wrong?.." he said, finally realizing the situation after seeing you sat on the floor while Aoi stood up waving her arms around like a parent after finding out their child did something bad.

Aoi let out a groaned before instructing Tanjiro to escort you back to your bed.

Seeing you carry around his sword though lets him know of your intentions. Seeing that precious smile plastered on his face made you somewhat embarassed... it's as if he could read you easily like an open book. It was as if even if you tried to do anything discreet, he'd found you out everytime. It was as if no matter how many times you run and hide your adoration from him.. that smile would appear and ruined it all.

"Thank you [name], you didn't have to do that...." he said as he sat you on the infirmary bed. "You're

"It's nothing really... but-" you tried to give a rebuttle, trying to downplay your situation.

"And here i was afraid you might be avoiding me for some reason...." he said, maybe he didn't realize it. But that smile could melt you sooner than the power of a thousand suns "I'm glad!.. i really am.."

Oh.. there it is that tingly feeling again.

you're fucked.

"I'm sorry Tanjiro... but, you're actually correct" you could even say he's on the nose... haha.

"I must admit that i have been avoiding you. And trust me it's nothing against you.." oh it's everything against him.

"I want you to know that.. so please do not worry"

You held his hand, the thought he would pull away from your touch hanted your mind, but he sat there intertwining his fingers with yours. You could get lost in him. His touch, his voice, his warmth.. and those eyes.

"Then... would you tell me what happened?.." he asked, the melody of his voice lulling you in a daydream

"I.. i think i fell in love w-" SHIT. That was your outside voice.. you blame him for distracting you in such manner.

"HUH-" Tanjiro were surprised with your words.. pushing a precariously obvious intrest in his tone of voice "W-with who?.. ahaha-" he laughed nervously

"I- it doesn't matter!!" You shook your head violantly feeling him coming closer. The proximity only pushing you to spill all your guts altogether...

"I- it's just that.. it doesn't matter because he doesn't love me back.. you know?... there's no way he would ever accept a heart like mine" you say incredibly negative, waving your hand around like some idiot. Breaking the handholding that was previously established. “Which is why i’m a little down in the dumps lately… but i know i’ll get over it so don’t worry!”

"Ah-" you felt Tanjiro catching your hands in the air and putting them together”

“Anyone who rejects your heart are clearly stupid!” Tanjiro says, rather angrily. “Please don’t be upset.. that person couldn’t began to imagine your value!!”

Well you technically weren’t rejected yet, he may has misunderstood.

“You really don’t have to comfort me Tanjiro.”

“I’m serious..” he pried, wanting you to see his truth “you’re kind. More than you think. You’re sensitive… loyal.. not to mention determined-“

“Tanjiro-“

“It’s lovely. Your heart that is..”

You were taken aback by his words. It’s as if you could hear a sweet melody playing along with the uncontrollable beat of your heart as your cheeks grew warm unwillingly

This moment was nothing but tender, you wanted nothing but to melt in his arms.

“You’re probably the only one who thinks of me that way, Tanjiro.”

Your words rang nonsense through his ears. How can that be true when you take his breath away in every second of the day? If he could then he’d happily spend hours of his day explaining every wonderful aspects of you. He’ll hammer that idea in your head if he could.

"Then.." he trailed of. Breaking eye contact. You missed the way flush spread all over his complexion all this time, only realizing the embarassement and hesitance that was plastered obvious so

"Can i have it?"

"W-wha.."

"Your heart.. May i have it?" He said, fixing his words as he looks into your eyes in anticipation. "That is.. if you're willing to have me of course."

Woah.

...

WOAH?

WAIT....WOAH!?!?!

At this point you don't think you could even give your heart to anyone else...nor even him because your heart has probably already exploded at that moment.

It took you more than a while to process with Tanjiro looking at you, concerned for you, he didn't even know if you were lucid by how many times he called out to you.

"SAY SOMETHING YOU IDIOT" Said Goto behind you, as he swiftly hit you right in the head. Yup, that does the job

"But- i- you.. i think maybe you-" your words got caught up in your throat as Tanjiro inspects the back of your head right where goto landed his unforgiving blow, that will surely leave a bruise.

You could hear Tanjiro’s worried comments about how mean it was for Goto to do such a thing as he caress your bruise trying to soothe the pain.

"Fix your breath,kid" he said, clicking his tounge in impatiebce before disappearing again, he knows when you need a moment alone. Reliable as always, though it gets creepy how he shows up out of no where.

Despite his harsh punch, you knew he was right. You took a deep breath and exhaled, calming your nerves, while Tanjiro sat beside you attentively

“Tanjiro..” you called his name, you never wish for it to be the last time you do. So you might as well tell your truth

"You.. you're the kindest person i ever known. But i have a background that is beyond tainted, it's not right for me to keep that from you. Please understand that i'm a person who will forever bear the consequences of my sins, i... there's no reality where i can think that i deserve you."

That would go along a fact that maybe there wasn’t a reality where you didn’t yearn for him.

"Don't say that.. please don't say that!" He yelled, now clenching your hands despretely

“If i have to, then i’ll bear half of your sins so that you didn’t need to feel that way.” He loved you, despretely. And it pains him that you thought of yourself that way when he worship the ground you walk upon

“I want you to know that there’s no reality where i don’t love you”

You intended to say ‘i love you too’ you loved him above all else. But the words got caught up in your throat,replaced by your choked sobs

Tanjiro sat there, comforting you, wiping away your tears patiently.

To help people was something that Tanjiro always aspires to do. He does it even without thinking.. but when it was with you, he can't help but overthink his actions would they like this? Would it be weird if i complimented them? Would it be too obvious? At some point he worries the nice things that he tries to do for you ultimately come from the a selfish desire to woo you. He worries it wasn't genuine and it was self serving. He worries that he wasn't doing this right.

But what he worried the most was that he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop basking in your smile, your light, your attention, your presence. He knew he was getting spoiled.

"Would you take me, even like this?" You said, you didn’t have to give your heart to him, it was already his

"I wouldn't have you any other way".

[diddybok]

Run to You | Minsung part II

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: ex!minsung x gn!reader

➩genre(s): angst, split pov

➩warnings: swearing

➩wc: 1.4k (1418)

➩author’s note: yous wanted a happy ending? heh…heh heh…not on my watch :| jk it’s up for interpretation

➩part(s): previous

See you don’t think it was foolish of you to still hold on to hope. Hold on to the fact that maybe, just maybe, you could get closure from all that happened.

Which is exactly why you didn’t block their numbers. For some silly little reason, you had hoped they’d at least send you a message asking where you went.

Nothing.

It has been nothing for a painful two months.

How you went from the apple of their eye to the forgotten apple core in the trash in a span of a week is truly uncanny.

It’s ridiculous and it still makes your right eye twitch if you think about it too long. Though, you have found many ways to divert your attention away from those two boys.

At least you thought you did.

Minho blinks once, twice, rubs his eyes then refocuses them on the spot in which you stand browsing through the clothes on the shelves.

He can feel the bile travelling up his throat and threatening to make an extravagant exit out of his mouth.

The colour drains from his face as he watches your delicate hands pick up a shirt and assess it. You’re probably thinking of ways you could style yourself in the outfit, the scrunch of your nose and furrow of your eyebrows suggest just as much.

His tongue feels heavy with the unspoken words he longs to say ever since he woke up that morning to you gone.

It confused him at first, seeing you not in bed. Thinking that you had just woken up early and was making yourself breakfast. But as he went downstairs and was met by the monotonous ticking of the clock and the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, he swore his heart skipped a beat.

It felt hard to swallow. It was as if something was lodged in his throat.

Guilt.

Seeing your key upon the kitchen island made him viscerally recoil and race upstairs to tell Jisung.

Frantically checking the wardrobe, dresser and bathroom for your things that were no longer stored in their rightful place.

Safe to say he broke down crying. Literally. He fell to his knees once he noticed the empty cup that used to hold your toothbrush and poor Jisung had to not only deal with the reality of which you had left them, but the sorrowful sight of Minho and the impending heartbreak that was to crush his delicate organ.

He wanted to message you. He really did. But there was a constant nagging in the back of his mind. “Leave Y/n be.” “They clearly want space away from you.” “You probably drove them away, you don’t deserve them anyway.”

Jisung tells him that maybe you just needed a break. That you would come back once you had calmed down, give them a call and things could go back to normal. “Give them a week,” Jisung said, “Maybe it all got too much for Y/n” He said.

Well…Jisung said that a month and a half ago. Now he stands in the clothing store, holding his head down as he hides behind a clothing rack; sparingly glancing over at you.

His feet ache to walk him over to where you stand. His hand reaches out to touch you. His mouth falls open to call your name.

He pretends to be busy with looking through the women’s sleepwear as his mind runs a thousand miles a minute.

“Minho?”

The way he could hear your voice so clearly in his head. It is like no memory was forgotten. Even as he looks down at the floor, he notices shoes that look akin to yours. Even having the little red stain on the top of your shoe from when you were pretending to paint like Bob Ross.

“Minho.”

His eyes widen as his neck almost snaps with the way he spins around so fast to see you. Just you.

He doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t quite prepared what he was going to say in the time he was hiding behind the rack to you appearing behind him.

“Y/n…hey-hi. Hello.”

You look at him. No, you look straight through him. It’s as if your eyes are devoid of any emotion that you once had reserved for him and Jisung. When once he could feel the love from a longing gaze, he now feels goosebumps rise on his skin.

He can’t even hold back the way his eyes start to shimmer in the poorly lit store. Yet you aren’t a fool, you were always good at knowing whenever he got emotional. You would comfort him immediately. But you just stand there, your head tilting slightly.

He’s perturbed by your lack of reaction, but can he blame you? He made no effort to contact you once you had left. He is lucky he even gets you staring at him albeit like you just witnessed him kick a puppy.

All it took was one inhale. One inhale before you were rinsing into him. “You treated me like the shit on your shoe!” You would yell. An accusatory finger jabbing at his chest. The tears that threatened to fall from the corner of your eyes.

Boy oh boy did you let him know just how badly he and Jisung fucked up. How he used you, took you for granted. How he never gave back the love you were so generously going above and beyond to give to them.

The more you said, the more examples you shared of when he and Jisung made you feel like the third wheel. He couldn’t help himself as he started to sob. His tears fell down his cheeks and into his mouth.

Poor thing, you started to outright shake with anger as you just ripped him apart. And he stood there and let you. It’s the least he can do.

It wasn’t long until his confrontation with you alerted the casual consumers and an extremely bored store clerk who ushered the two of you out of the store.

The fresh air seemed to help you calm your erratic nerves. You couldn’t even look at him. Minho is almost regretful that he said to Jisung he didn’t have to join him with his errands today because he feels as if he is ready to break down any moment now and he needs the support from Jisung.

Oh.

Oh.

It’s like he was slapped in the face by your words, but he has now just been backhanded with realisation. He gets it now.

You needed them. You needed their support and they weren’t giving it to you. It’s as if it was muscle memory, to just gravitate to Jisung because it always was him until it was you and him.

The fact that it took him this long to realise. It took him seeing you sniffle and frustratedly wipe your tears that race down your cheeks to finally understand that you were calling out to them.

His hand instinctively reaches out to clasp your hand in his, but he acquiesces. He chooses to let it fall by his side, balling up into a fist.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his voice breaking into a choke. He hangs his head down in shame, remorse, cowardice.

“So am I.” You would say before ultimately leaving him. Figuratively and literally.

He isn’t sure how long he stands there frozen. Maybe seven minutes, perhaps thirty seconds.

All he knows is that it was too long. Too long to let you walk out of his life again without doing something to stop it.

He promised himself that night that he would never make that mistake again. So he lifts his head, looking frantically to figure out where you would’ve gone.

It’s as if the universe has granted him a second chance as he sees you in the distance. Just visible before he loses sight of you within the horizon.

Of course he doesn’t think as his feet start to move before his brain can process what he is doing.

As he runs he can hear the beating of his heart as it pumps for you. The blood rushing through his veins as it gives him energy to catch you.

Lest he lose the chance to fight for your heart and soul again, he runs like his life depends upon it. For you were never the missing piece of a puzzle, but the whole picture they longed to seek.

And now he can see it clearly.

ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ

i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.

© 2023 diddybok

general taglist: @spacegirlstuff @chengmeiauau

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 30, Epilogue - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mild sexy stuff (Just some very light hand business. Very light.)

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: You moved out of the Tower :(

A/N: This is it! The last part! You guys. I can't even. It's been a magical journey, and I'm so honored that I got to take it with all of you. I'm scheduling this post on Thursday in my office, and I'm fucking crying, because you've made this more than anything I could have ever hoped for. I love each and every one of you, so fucking much. Thank you for coming on this adventure with me. Thank you for loving Pocket. Thank you for sticking with Bucky and not throwing knives at him and his stupidity. Just, fucking THANK YOU. You are all amazing, beautiful people, and I could not have done this without you. Thirty Chapters, One Hundred Fifty Five Thousand, Four Hundred and Fourteen Words, and more to come. Bucky and Pocket's journey is not over! POOKIE LOVES YOU SO MUCH.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

Not even twenty minutes later– it was actually almost pathetic how close your new place was to the Tower, really– you were opening up the door of your brand new penthouse apartment. It was more extravagant than any other place you’d ever laid your head, and when Tony’s realtor had first shown it to you, you’d balked at the opulence of it. But Tony reminded you that you’d been shot, after all, and had almost died once, then actually died, all in the span of a few days, and after that, on top of everything else you had already endured in your life, wasn’t it time you treated yourself to something good? Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t afford it. So, here you were.

“Honey, I’m home,” you called out softly to the enormous, empty space. It would still be some time before the movers finished loading up and delivering everything from the Tower, and then you were going to have a lot of furniture shopping to do. Toeing off your shoes, you padded your way across the apartment to the terrace. Opening the glass doors, you stepped outside. You walked to the edge and rested your elbows against the railing. Taking a deep breath, you admired the view of the city before you, the Tower just a block away. Looking across, you could easily make out Tony and Pepper’s apartment. Waving at breakfast, indeed.

You felt a pair of strong arms slink around your midsection, tugging you into a broad, warm chest. “Thought I heard you come in,” Bucky said, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder. 

“Hey, baby,” you smiled, reaching back to caress his face with your hand. You turned in his arms so you were facing him. “I missed you.”

 Bucky laughed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I only left the Tower two hours ago,” he said. “But I missed you, too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, pouring every ounce of love and affection you felt for him into the motion. “I can’t believe we finally did it,” you grinned.

“Took us long enough,” he mused back, but then turned thoughtful. “Probably would have happened a lot sooner if I hadn’t–”

You brought a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Stop. We agreed not to talk about that, remember? Dr. Whitmore said we can’t move forward if we keep hashing out the past, and I just want to move forward, with you.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, but you just smiled and kissed him again.

After you’d been released from the hospital, you and Bucky had had a long, emotional discussion about the future of your relationship. The only way you’d ever stand a real chance, you’d both decided, was if you committed to couples’ counseling and complete and total honesty. Bucky knew he didn’t deserve yet another chance from you, and you probably wouldn’t have given him one if you hadn’t loved him so fucking much. But you’d actually died, and you couldn’t stand the idea of wasting any more time without him. Now, after nearly a year of doing the work, both on your relationship and yourselves, you felt your connection was stronger than ever. And besides, when it really mattered, Bucky had proven, in the most definitive way, that he would pick you over Jade Carthage.

“So…,” you said once the kiss had been broken and you began playing with the hem of his shirt.

“So, what?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow at him suggestively. His eyes widened as he caught your meaning. “What? Here? Right now?!”

You tilted your head and looked up at him with the most innocent expression you could muster, given how completely un-innocent your current thoughts were. “Yeah, right here, right now. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough, baby?” You trailed a hand down the center of his chest and his breath hitched. “Almost a full year, spent using my fingers, pretending they were you, never feeling full enough? Never getting off as good as I got off with you? It’s been so long since I felt you inside of me, Buck. So long, it fucking hurts.”

When you had decided to give your relationship a real reset, one of the rules you had established, with the advice of Dr. Whitmore, was no sex. You needed to establish emotional intimacy and boundaries once again, without the complications a sexual relationship would bring. She had even suggested you both try to date other people, to ensure that this was the relationship you both truly wanted, but neither one of you could bring yourselves to do it. And now, here you were, almost a full year since the last time you’d been together, and you were desperate. 

Bucky groaned at your words and you knew he was this close to giving in to you.

“Come on, baby,” you purred, reaching down and slowly unbuckling his belt. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to be inside of me?” You slowly began nibbling at his jaw, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin and letting it flood your senses.

“Always want you, Pocket,” he growled, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you flush against his hips. You let out a low moan when you felt the evidence of his arousal press into your stomach through his jeans. 

“Then have me, Barnes,” you whispered, carding your hands through his hair. “Have me on this balcony, have me on every fucking surface of this apartment, as many times as you want.”

Any remaining sense of resolve Bucky may have possessed snapped, and he was on you, sucking on the skin of your neck as he rutted his hips against you, and it felt so. fucking. good. to feel him like that again. His hand dipped into the waistband of your pants, where he found you wet and eager for him. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he growled into your skin as his fingers slipped through your slick folds to toy with your clit. “All this for me?”

You groaned as you felt one finger gently breach your entrance. “Only you, love,” you moaned. “Only ever you.”

You both froze when you heard the sound of the elevator ding, and Bucky quickly withdrew his hand, popping his finger into his mouth to suck away the evidence of his actions. Grunting in frustration, you looked around him to see the elevator doors open and the movers begin to unload dollies of boxes from the Tower into your new apartment.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “So much for reunion sex. I swear, I’ve got blue balls, Barnes”

Bucky grinned at you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before redoing his belt and heading over to help the movers. “This’ll only take a little while, doll,” he winked at you. “We’ve got the rest of our lives together to make up for lost time.”

<- Previous Part / The End

[whisperofwonder]

!!Very late timeskip spoilers!!

Kageyama told you a few days ago that he's joining Ali Roma - now you have a big decision to make.

(There's a chance this could become a small collection of drabbles - I have a lot of ideas floating around in my head.)

~ 900 words

These past three days have felt like the longest of your life. From the moment Tobio told you he'd received the offer from Ali Roma, you knew he'd accept. You wouldn't have expected anything different from him. The only thing that hung in the balance was your three year relationship.

He'd insisted that you take some time to think, and you have. You've spent these three days reliving the early days of falling in love with this quiet, intense, dedicated man. He'd surprised you by being earnest, attentive, even thoughtful. Alongside of his eternal love for volleyball, he's cultivated a deep love for you, and shown it in a thousand little ways. You'd moved into this apartment with him around this time last year, and some foolish part of you had thought that this might end up being forever. Now you're at a crossroads. These next moments will change everything.

"Hi," You say simply when he finally walks through the door. You've been orbiting around each other these past few days, him giving you some space to think and you grudgingly accepting it. You'd barely spoken, your schedules easily falling out of alignment with the sudden lack of coordinated effort. It had shocked you to see how different your relationship could have been if you both hadn't put in the time to make it work.

Now, your time to think has come to an end, and you're ready to tell him what you've decided. He carefully takes the seat next to you on the couch, angling himself so that his full attention is on you, but careful to leave a few inches of space between you. His gaze is intent on your face. "Hi," He finally echoes, when he's settled.

You take a deep breath. You've made your decision. "Tobio," You say his name slowly, and he leans ever so slightly closer to you. "I want to do this," You can't stop the smile breaking across your face, "I want to go with you to Italy." You watch him sag with relief, his knee pressing forward against yours.

"Really?" He breathes out, looking at you like you're too good to be true.

"Yes," You say, and you can't resist any longer. You throw yourself across the space between you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you feel his lips skim against your cheek before he presses his face into your shoulder. He's holding you tight, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of the feeling of you pressed against him.

This decision hadn't been easy, but in the end you think you've always known this is what you'd decide. You'd gone back and forth, lived with the thought of letting him go, but no matter what you envisioned, you could never quite imagine the rest of your life without him in it. Everything else will still be here, even while you're in Italy, but next to him is where you truly feel at home. The country you're in won't change that.

"You really want to go to Italy?" He's finally pulled away, now gripping your hands in his.

"I do," You confirm. "I want to be with you. And I think it will be an adventure," You add. You know Italy won't be forever, but it could turn into years, depending on how things go. "There's nothing here that won't be here whenever we come back - to visit or for good."

"Yeah," He agrees, the smile steadily growing on his own face. "I can't believe it," He admits. "I had to tell myself this was it. It didn't feel fair to you to let myself hope." You feel your heart clench at his words, the thought of him reconciling to the idea of life without you settling uneasily in your middle.

"Well, you can't get rid of me that easily," You say with a quiet chuckle, trying to keep the mood lighter, the weight of this decision settling heavy on you. His smile slips to a more serious expression, and you give his hands a squeeze.

"We should get married, then." He breathes out, the last words you'd expected him to say. "I want to marry you," He adds, and you aren't sure if your heart can take it. Finally, you feel the tears well up in your eyes.

"Are you proposing?" You ask in a choked whisper, "Right now?"

"Yes," He says firmly, though you're half convinced he'd made that decision half a second ago. He slides down to one knee in front of you, fixing his intense gaze on you. "So will you marry me?"

The last decision had taken three days, but this one takes three seconds. "Yes," You're nodding, a single stubborn tear slipping down your cheek. He reaches with his thumb to swipe it away, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he draws you into a kiss. You can feel him smiling into it.

"We're going to Italy," You say in disbelief when you finally pull away. "We're getting married."

"We are," He says, taking your face in his hands, his own face a picture of utter adoration. "I love you," He adds softly.

"I love you too," You breathe back, letting your eyes slide closed as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, soaking in this moment.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

When Paths Diverge - Y.JH

💔Who; Yoon Jeonghan x female reader 💔What; Angst. Established relationship. Break up. Vampires. 💔Wordcount; 2.2k 💔Warnings; Honestly, Jeonghan is not exactly a good person. Though it's not really explored in this. Reader realises that their relationship is not healthy and stands up for herself! References to turning/loss of humanity but no actual descriptions of that. I don't think there's actually anything specific to warn about, but let me know if I'm wrong.

Summary; After decades together, after everything you've been through, you can't believe that this is all it takes for the rose-tinted glasses to slip from your eyes and allow you to see the truth of Yoon Jeonghan, the man you thought you would spend eternity with.

-2024 Masterlist-

AN- I have no idea where this whole idea came from, it just hit me and it was supposed to be more of a quick flashback scene in a fic about them meeting in the future but instead this happened. It's very different to anything I've written in a long time so I hope it's okay. Big thank you to @kwanisms for helping me with the header by supplying Jeonghan pics! 💖

"You are not the person I fell in love with anymore." It's said so simply, so effortlessly, like he's rehearsed those words a thousand times in front of the mirror. Perhaps he has. You wouldn't put it past Jeonghan and his neverending need to be seen as nothing short of perfection. "You are nothing like the woman I fell in love with those years ago."

"You can't seriously be saying that." You respond disbelievingly.

"I am. You have changed, my dear, and not for the better."

"Of course, I've changed, Jeonghan! It's been decades since we met and you turned me in that time! Of course, I've changed!"

"I have not."

"Maybe that's the problem, Jeonghan. Your inability to make even the slightest changes to yourself and expect the world to bend and mould around the shape of you." You scoff and shake your head while getting up from the couch. He remains seated in the same formal upright posture he always does. Unchanged in all his centuries of life. You had given up your humanity for him, left everything behind for him, yet he can't even relax his posture even once. It isn't the first time you've noticed it but it is the first time you've ever spoken it aloud, spurred on by his own hurtful words. "Humans are supposed to change as we grow, Jeonghan."

"We are not human any longer. I cannot even remember how it feels to be human. Maybe that is the cause of our differences, that you can still recall those memories." He too gets up and straightens his already neat shirt as his always-so-level gaze meets your upset one.

While it usually settles you to see him so calm regardless of circumstance, always so in control and the voice of reason, now it just hurts. Even now, during what your entire being knows is the end of your decades-long romance, Jeonghan's expression shows no sign of feeling, well… anything.

Shortly, you try to recall a time when he let his truth show beside the gentle little smiles he's treated you to over the years, yet you can't recall a single memory. You don't know how you've never realised before how much that hurts.

Suddenly, you're struck with the thought that perhaps, you never truly knew Yoon Jeonghan. You had thought that you were his exception, the only person he allowed to see the man behind the mask, yet now you're realising that he has kept even you at arm's length even when you were wrapped up in them and tucked safely against his chest. You knew, still know, that he cares for you in his own way. You're just now realising that it's not enough and never was.

"Did you think I would become emotionless like you these decades? Is that why you agreed to turn me in the first place? To remove my physical humanity and hope the rest would follow?" Your heart breaks a little more when he just stares at you. There may be no sign of a response from him but Jeonghan is quick-witted and always has a retort, has never once missed the chance to correct someone. His lack of answer is louder than his words could ever be. "Right." You take a deep steadying breath, making his gaze dart down shortly to your expanding chest before he looks back at you.

You used to think he found your quirk of taking unneeded breaths amusing, or perhaps cute, but now you know the truth; he doesn't look at your chest fond of the sign of the human habit remaining. But in disdain. He's been waiting for you to drop all your links to humanity yet you refuse. Humanity may not be a very elegant species and full of flaws, but as a whole, they're good, have morals and work hard to stick to them. But vampires? Well, after so long living, morals seem to become a rather grey area for them so you've seen. You always thought Jeonghan was a rare exception to that, but you know you've overlooked more than you should've in the name of love. Not in his actions towards you but to other humans. He's always put himself above humans and so long as you continue to keep your little shreds of humanity in your chest, he'll always see himself as above you too.

"I guess I'll pack up and leave." You declare, already walking to your shared bedroom. You don't stop to look around it, take it in for one last time. You already know what you'll see. Signs of the both of you, old mixed with new, him and you. A clear distinction you had stubbornly refused to see for the truth of what is it, two separates that can't make a whole. Not when your edges have been formed in your humanity and the weaker points smoothed over by Jeonghan's hands to fit against his own edges, yet you still have too many sharp points he could never flatten out. You hadn't even realised he was trying to.

"Just like that?" He questions, following you smoothly and watching as you pull out the large case from under the bed, which usually only shows up when he takes the pair of you away on an expensive luxurious holiday somewhere cold in summer. To escape the sun blistering the sensitive vampiric skin covering your bodies. You had never seen him blister and had never experienced it yourself either as Jeonghan has always swept you both away at the first sign of the sun's heat but you trusted his words entirely. Trusted him.

It won't be until the coming summer that you realise that he hadn't been entirely truthful, yes a vampire's skin is much more sensitive to the sun's rays, but it's much less instantaneous than he had made out. The newfound knowledge will make you wonder what else he hadn't been honest about, and send you on a task to relearn everything you know about vampirism, and the world in general.

But now.

"Are you expecting me to grovel and beg for you to change your mind and allow me to remain by your side?" You huff, shoving items into the case, not everything you own because frankly, you don't care for all the silks and jewels. That's all Jeonghan, wanting you both to always be donned in the best money can buy. "Since when have I begged for anything, Jeonghan?"

"Never."

"Then I haven't changed as you claim."

"And you will not?" It's the first time he's outright about his wants here. It makes you pause your harsh packing to look over at him incredulously. "You said that you love me, you tell me every day, my dear, yet you will not even try to tempt me to open my arms again with an offer of change?"

"You think I am the one who should change here? Jeonghan, I gave up my humanity for you, I gave up my family, my friends, my life, everything for you and you think I need to do more to prove my devotion to you?"

"Is that not what love is? Proving one's devotion?"

"Then where are your attempts to prove your own to me?" You point out. "Over the course of this conversation, I've come to the rather jarring and honestly heartbreaking realisation that you have not once ever changed for my sake. You've spent decades manipulating my very heart to your own whims yet you remain as stone-hearted as ever. Unmouldable. I wish I knew that when we met, that you truly are just the empty shell of a being that man accused you of being. Thinking about it, maybe I should've picked him that night."

"That man is a vile excuse for a vampire."

"Is he?" You think of the beautiful tall man from all those decades ago. He hadn't seemed very vampiric to you at the time and even less so now that you think back on it. He seemed more, human. More like you. "I should've taken his hand and let him save me from you."

"Save you?" Jeonghan repeats softly. The first sign in this ordeal that he isn't entirely apathetic. "You have never needed saving from me, I have never done a thing to hurt you, nor will I."

"Not physically at least."

"There is no other way that matters."

"The fact you can say that and truly mean it, is perhaps the scariest I've ever seen you, Jeonghan."

"I do not understand."

"And that makes it worse." You turn and get back to your packing. "But at least I finally know you're capable of admitting to weakness."

"You are my weakness." That makes you pause again, though you don't turn to him. "I do not want you to leave."

"I don't want to either, not really, but I can't stay if nothing will change, if you won't change, Jeonghan. I deserve more than that. You always say that I deserve the best, that you'd give me every star in the sky if I wanted them to hold in my hands, but you won't even change your own centuries-old, outdated habits and thoughts for me." You pack slower this time, not because you're trying to put it off, you know your departure from the home you can no longer call your own is inevitable. You're moving slower because it's finally starting to catch up with you and bloom saltwater in your eyes. You're trying to stop it from falling any faster and hoping your own movements will slow the descent at least until you are out of the door. It will only hurt worse to be the only one crying again when he should be crying with you. But you know he won't. He never has.

"I do not know if I can do that, my love."

"Then I can't stay. If you ever manage, I'm sure you will find a way to let me know."

"You really are leaving? With no intention of seeing me again?"

"Not unless you change. I can't be the only one trying to be a better version of myself for the other." You shove a final jumper into the case and zip it up. You don't really have anything sentimental to keep, it all reminds you of Jeonghan and when he had turned you, he convinced you to let go of all reminders of your past as it would only hurt too much. You had believed him at the time, had full faith and hadn't taken a single memento of your family or human life. Though now you just think he was trying to make you lose all ties to your humanity to change you at your core, not to protect your delicate heart.

"Where will you go?" He asks, stopping you from leaving the bedroom by standing in the doorway and putting a hand on your arm. You brush him off though don't look at him, you can't.

If you did, you would've seen the pain starting to seep into his eyes.

"A hotel, I have enough money to do that until I decide where to make a home for myself."

"You will not go far, will you? I cannot bear the thought of such a distance between us."

"So I should suffer for you instead?"

"No."

"Then let me go without a fuss, you owe me that much at least."

Jeonghan is quiet for long enough that you almost lift your lowered damp gaze to look at him, yet he speaks just in time to prevent you from doing so. He hadn't known that you were about to look up and see real emotion in his eyes for the first time, that you would've seen his heartbreak and immediately reconsidered leaving. If he had known, he would've stayed quiet longer and let you see him for the first time. But he didn't know, so he opened his mouth and spoke quietly. "I owe you a lot more, I am starting to understand that now." He admits. "I will not stop you again, just know that I will be here waiting for you to come back. I shall do everything I can to change myself but this is our home, my love, and it will remain this way ready to welcome you back when I discover out how to prove myself to you. You can change it however you like when you return, but until then, it shall remain this way."

"Don't do that." You frown. "I won't want to return to this."

"I thought you love our home?"

"I do now, but I won't then. To find it unchanged will just remind me of the past. Let it change with you, reflect you and if you find me one day and bring me back, I can add pieces of me back into it again."

"If that is what you want." You nod and adjust your grip on your case. "I love you, I wish it was enough."

"Me too, Jeonghan." Your lips press together tightly to prevent more words from spilling from them in amongst the sobs threatening to bubble out into the thick air between you, and you walk past him the second he steps aside.

The front door of the house is barely closed behind you before the tears start to flow. You stop to take a shuddering wet gasp before rushing to your car to throw the case into the back and drive.

You don't know where you're going, you don't know what will happen but you hope with everything in you that one day, you'll find yourself back on the same path as Jeonghan and meet a man changed for the better.

A/N- Don't be shy to let me know what you think! As I said in my author note at the top, I don't really write stuff like this, all serious angsty type things but if I know people like it, I will try to write more in the future!

[nvuy]

just thinking about argenti who has so much love to give to the whole universe, who is on a neverending journey of spreading the beauty across the cosmos faithfully, unwaveringly; argenti, who is never capable of receiving that kind of love back. because he cannot stop. because he cannot stray from the path of the aeon that hasn't answered to his prayers even once in his lifetime. because if he dares devote himself to anyone other than idrila, that person is going to have to wait for him all alone, thousands of light years away. lol

warnings for dark themes, angst, argenti backstory references so he’s insane and weird, and argenti literally murdering you, i guess.

i have this in my inbox as well. i liked the link, so now you WILL hear my thoughts.

i had so many thoughts for this prompt initially, but i just couldn’t string it into anything that was actually coherent.

somebody actually came into my inbox and said the interpretation of argenti’s story is wrong and i’m wrong and he didn’t actually kill his friends and SHUT UP i do what i want, and it’s just that: an interpretation. i like putting tragedy into my characters. it’s like adding salt to a bland meal.

anyway.

the worst part about this prompt, and yours, is in his inability to stop his pursuit of finding idrila, he meets you, and he does fall in love despite his promise to venture the stars alone on his journey.

argenti finds falling in love is beautiful at first. you’re supportive, even if he leaves you for extended voyages. he always brings back trinkets, gifts, leaves you one thousand messages a day that read more like love letters than normal texts, and the love he showers you in is endless.

you don’t doubt him for a second.

and then, things change. you tell him it’s difficult to love a person that’s gone for so long.

argenti does truly feel sorry, and he pities you, but this is who he is.

and you’re hurt. his devotion to idrila aside, you tell him that he’s crossed galaxies to find an aeon that does not care for him, nor the other fellow knights of beauty. they are not emanators bestowed with idrila’s power, nor has idrila been sighted by anyone for eons.

to you, it feels like he’s pining for someone else. you are in love with his undying loyalty, and his unshakeable faith. but, it hurts to be away from him for so long while he chases after a being well above you.

argenti cannot stray from the path he wanders. he insists he will do better, but when you thank him, and apologise because you feel selfish, he can’t help but notice your nails have grown to the size of curled claws.

the relationship grows worse from there. he slowly sees less of you, and more of something else. an otherworldly creature that morphs to the shape of you to keep him trapped here and away from his endeavours.

he finds himself growing to learn that the person, you, whom he’s loved with all his heart, was never a person, but a monster wearing your skin.

you break the relationship off some time later.

he finds himself relieved. not because you’re leaving—his heart shatters, actually—but because he knows, somewhere deep down in his stomach, if you stay any longer, he’ll hurt you.

argenti apologises, but you find he cannot look you in the eyes. so, you part ways. maybe you go back home, maybe you set up somewhere else by yourself. it hurts because you felt he was everything you’d ever wanted, and he was, but you know it’s better this way.

in the ideas i was writing for this prompt, i imagined you set up in belobog and work in that floral shop—i cannot remember if it has a name.

it’s been months, and you grow okay with yourself again, and everything is fine. you make bouquets, trim the stems of flowers as will, tend to the pots outside the shop, and all is well.

maybe argenti comes to the shop. he doesn’t know you work here, and he’s only come in because he’s stopped on belobog for his ship needs a repair and the red roses growing outside the window catch his eye. they’re just barely blooming, and spring looms just around the corner.

he doesn’t even realise the shop is open because it looks dark through the glass.

curiously, he opens the door to the shop, and the bell above the door tolls. a cute little shop, and bright colours encircle the walls. daisies, frangipanis, dahlias, petunias, he knows them all from your incessant ramblings when you would walk through gardens together, and he would hold onto every word.

you bound from the back room after hearing the bell, and you both just freeze up. you’re in shock he’s here—but why wouldn’t he be here? he travels planet to planet in search of his aeon—and he only sees something grotesque, and ugly, and a mockery of you. this isn’t you. it’s a mimicry. blasphemy of righteousness, of pure beauty, of one of idrila’s very creations they pulled from their gentle heart and offered to him so graciously.

he knows deep down he’s wrong. he knows, he knows, he trusts himself he knows, but he can’t win over his twitching fingers.

you greet him softly, gently pushing the work in progress bouquet and the garden pliers to the side of the front desk. there’s a multitude of thorns on the bench, and the roses in the bouquet, not yet bloomed, are picked free of their thorns.

there’s only one in the bouquet, one red shimmering rose, that has fully opened its petals.

“haven’t seen you in a while,” you say to him. there’s a hint of that customer service-y tone; because he’s not your lover anymore. “how are you?”

argenti swallows. “just the same.” he turns to the flowers on the wall. “you have a beautiful shop.”

“thanks.” you glance down at the bouquet on the bench. “did the roses outside catch your eye?”

you hear him laugh merrily. “you know me too well.” his fingers graze along the petals of a large assortment of pink amaryllis hanging over a plantar pot. he cannot look at you. he cannot, he cannot, he cannot–

“hey.”

and there’s that tone that twists his stomach. he wants to look, he wants to see you, you, and not that hideous beast that resides beneath your skin.

he feels you stop just beside him. he dares to glance.

amidst your claws and the veiny lines of your once soft and delicate hands that he always would press his lips to the back of, was a single red rose that you twirled between your fingers.

you hand it to him gently. “this one’s special.” when argenti did not move to take it, you tuck it securely behind his ear, indulging in how soft his hair was along your skin. “it’s stayed alive for a lot longer than i thought. it’s been around for about two years now, give or take.” you step back. “it reminded of you.”

and it did. undying strength, and despite all odds of belobog’s weather being unfit for roses, as all of the others had wilted over time, this particular one had stayed.

“i know things didnt end well, but…” you glance out the window. “but, you’re always welcome back here.” and, you still love him. you omit that part. “i’m sorry for whatever happened, or if i wasn’t good enough, or if there was somebody else–”

even now, he laughs. it’s weak. “there was nobody else.”

you nod once. “well. still. i’m sorry.”

argenti knew it had been all his fault, but you, ever gracious and kind as you were, felt burden on your shoulders.

his hand draws back from the amaryllis to graze over the rose behind his ear. the petals were fresh, a light smell of dewdrops in the morning on this cold planet.

he wishes now, he never turned to look at you. he wished he had just spun on his heel and left the shop, and never returned to you. you didn’t deserve this; you had always been so kind, so careful, so gentle with him.

but he did turn, because he had fooled himself into thinking it was truly you standing there, and not some masked fool, or a hideous shapeshifter that was showing its true colours. he sees those claws again, and pulled aged skin that reminds him of trees as old as time, horrible teeth, twisted limbs that crack and bend—

to make matters worse, you notice his distress, and as you always did when you were together, you pull him gently towards you and wrap your arms around him.

argenti, mistakenly, returns the warm embrace, and unbeknownst to you, one of his hands brushes against the garden shears you’d left on the desk next to the bouquet.

he thinks against it for a moment when he hears you apologise for what he had done wrong, and bury your face in the plated shoulder of his silver armour.

despite how he holds the writhing creature in his arms, he knows it’s you. and it is you, but he doesn’t see you, nor does he see any semblance of you left when he turns his head to stare out of the window. he catches a reflection of the creature twitching.

he murmurs an apology as well.

and then, he drives the shears into a particular spot in your spine. you gasp, and you become dead weight in his arms as the feeling of your legs fall away.

cold snaps up your chest and you cry out in pain. it’s just pain, and pain, and pain as hot blood dribbles from your neck.

and then there’s nothing. there’s no feeling. you can’t even breathe. your arms and legs feel as though they’ve just disappeared, and just as he hoped, you don’t feel his spear drive directly through your chest.

he kills you then, as quickly as he can, because as the monster cries and screams, he still knows it’s you in his arms, and he wouldn’t live with himself if you suffered in your final moments.

he sees you, finally, when he lays you down gently on the floor. he tries his best to clean you of the tear stains, and the blood smears that had crept around the front of your neck. you’re still beautiful, even in death, but he finds it impossible to leave the rose you’d gifted him.

so, he takes it—and that rose probably becomes the rose he carries in all his little animations in game. he traverses with guilt, and it’s probably a little wink nudge nudge to you when he says he owes his next battle to ‘a solitary rose.’

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 35

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of Daemon, whose loved her all her life.

masterlist for this series

Chapter Thirty-Five: Divided We Fall

It has been three fortnights since Daemon has last seen a living being. The coldness enveloped his body. He was not provided the luxury of a blanket. He's been sleeping to pass time, as Rhaenyra did not send down food and water to her prisoners.

All he could think about was his family. Saera, and all his children.

"Daemon," a womanly voice breaks him free from his thoughts. "Rhaenyra," he responded with a single word.

His anger did not subside in the three days he was kept in his cell. Matter of fact, it grew every second he spent in her presence.

"I hope that the darkness has brought light to your judgement." she took a sharp breath, taken by surprise at the anger in his eyes.

"You murdered a babe, Rhaenyra." he scoffs, the cells were the only thing keeping him from murdering his niece.

"You have no idea what it feels like to lose a son, uncle. All your children are living and breathing - but Lucerys is gone. There is a boulder on my shoulders, and Aemond should know what that feels like." Rhaenyra spat.

She kept her voice low - not raising it, in fear that she'd provoke her uncle's wrath. "Then, you should've killed Aemond, not your sister's blood!" he argued, feeling his heart beating furiously in his chest.

"Alyssa and Daegon are yours aren't they?" she interrogated. All the weight they both carried in their shoulders, falling down.

"- and you are only furious at me for killing your blood, not Saera's." she pressed on the matter, tears in her eyes.

"Silence!" Daemon commanded, but Rhaenyra doesn't obey.

"You are furious at me because I have everything you desire. The throne, and my father's love." Rhaenyra antagonized the older man.

"I never wanted your father's love, Rhaenyra, mayhaps in the caprice of my youth -" Daemon reasons but is interrupted.

"You've always wanted to be in my place. With my father's favor, and when you realized that you could not have his love - you fell in love with Saera, and I don't blame you, it must've been easy falling in love with a woman like her. She obeyed you, that is what you wanted. You wanted a lackey not an equal." Rhaenyra insulted, unable to verbalize her true feelings.

"I see you for what you truly are, Rhaenyra. A jealous viper who is incapable of love, even towards her kin." Daemon raised his voice.

"- to think that your sister loved you, admired your bravery and strength, promised to protect you, and swore it to your father, but all you've ever done is betray her. Looked down on her." he scoffed.

Rhaenyra could slander his past all that she wishes, but not his wife. Not the mother of his children. He'll do anything to keep her safe.

"You can live a thousand lifetimes and never once deserve the love and support that your sister has given you. I hope that your conscience haunts you. I hope that when you sleep at night, Aelor's eyes that he inherited from Saera stares right back at you."

Rhaenyra gulps. But she has already reached a point of no return.

"You will stay here for the rest of your days." she began.

"I will get out." he says with certainty.

"- I will tell Saera that you died in Aemond's attack in Rook's Rest."

"- you will do no such thing." he shook his head.

"She will be wed. And a decade from now, there will only be a vague memory of a prince who loved a princess." Rhaenyra continued.

"Or there will be a vague memory of a Queen, who reigned for no shorter than a year." Daemon made his own prophecy. "- because she found demise at the hand of her own uncle." he threatened.

Rhaenyra takes another look at his face. "Goodbye, uncle."

Saera releases a deep sigh. It felt lonely without Daemon.

"Muña," Viserra smiles, continuing to play with her dolls. "Yes dearest?" she opened her mouth to speak, forcing a smile. Saera needed to be strong for her children. "Did we get a new knight?" the little girl asked. "- no dearest, some of the knights that your kepa sent have been in his service since I was a little girl." Saera answered.

"I know but there's a knight inside my room." Viserra looks up. "Yes, Ser Rusca who stands outside of your bedroom." Saera confirmed.

"But he's inside of my room." the little girl interrupts.

"Muña, I've heard that there are ghosts inside this castle." Daegon opens the conversation, continuing to embroider the rose that his mother discarded. "Daegon, you know that those are mere rumors. We rebuilt this castle and we've lived here for a decade." Saera turns the notion down.

Her attention returns to Viserra.

"Ser Rusca goes inside your room?" Saera inquires. "Not Fredericke, someone else. He says that he used to sleep there." Viserra continues. Saera and Daegon slightly freeze.

"- and the man, what does he look like?" Daegon inquired, feeling chills run down his spine.

"Umm like Jacaerys..." Viserra hummed, continuing to play. "Muña," Daegon begins but the mother shoots him down with a glare.

Saera smiles again, motioning for Viserra to sit on her lap.

Viserra stands up, settling on her mother's lap.

"I'm sure that those were just dreams, Viserra... You know, half of my bed has been empty without kepa, and you should sleep beside me." Saera smiled, wrapping her daughter in a warm embrace.

In all the ten years she's lived in Harrenhal, not a single ghost was made known to her. It is the work of Viserra's overactive imagination, she tells herself. Avoiding the truth, in fear that she'll meet Harwin's ghost - and say all the things she wish she said.

All the curses, she surmises.

Viserra was never the type to follow command. It was the middle of the night - the moon and the stars could be seen from the window, but she still protested against the rule of time. She refused to sleep.

"- and and and muña, I told kepa that I was going to take a bath but when he went to fill the bath, I ran away and hid in Joffrey's room." the little girl giggled continuing her story about the past. "What a cheeky little girl you are." Saera mumbled, fighting against sleep.

Oh, all Saera wanted to do was sleep, but she didn't have the heart to halt her daughter's storytelling. "Muña, I'm sleepy." the girl yawned.

A small chuckle escapes Saera's mouth. "Then you should sleep, my sweet girl." the woman replied in a lower tone. "- but we haven't talked to each other in forever, and I missed you." Viserra pouted.

"- and I miss kepa and Aelor and Alyssa and Joffrey and Lucerys and Jacaerys..." the little girl began to name all of the people she missed.

A yawn escapes Saera's mouth. Her eyelids fluttered, and she fell asleep at the sound of her daughter's voice.

Saera is shaken awake by Daegon. "Muña," Daegon's voice cracks. "Yes, dearest - is everything alright?" she inquired, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Muña, Aelor is dead." Daegon announces with tears falling from his eyes.

She gasps loudly.

"How? What?" the questions escaped her tongue. "Helaena sent me a letter, she says that Aunt Rhaenyra sent assassins for revenge." Daegon informed, trying to keep his composure.

"Rhaenyra? Why?" Saera breathed desperately, feeling the tears cascade down her cheeks. Rhaenyra of all people knew what it felt like to lose a child. How dare she steal a son from Alyssa the very same way her son was stolen from hers?

"And Daemon? Alyssa?" Saera inquires, anxiety flooding her senses.

"Alyssa is locked in her chambers. We need to help her, muña. We should bend our knees to Aegon." Daegon pleaded. "- your father is in Dragonstone. His life could be put in danger." Saera shook her head.

There's a fork in every road, and the wrong one is always taken. But Saera will not make that mistake - they needed to be neutral. "Send him a letter. Tell him that it is my command that he be here. Once he arrives, we try our best to get Alyssa back. Then, we seal our gates, and wait until the war is over." Saera made a quick decision.

next chapter>>

[unconventional-lawnchair]

I'll Look After You Chapter Two

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Summary: {Y/N} reunites with a lost soul, learns the fate of two of her old friends

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, mentions of injury and mourning}

Wc- 5142

Taglist- @otterlockholmes @stylesann @adhxmoony

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound of your quill tip against the edge of your inkwell filled the small cubicle. With Moody away on a mission, you had no one to snap at you about the small fidgets and bits of noises you made. This was your least favorite part of your internship, just waiting and acting like you had things to do. You knew once Moody got back he'd once again break down how to fill out the mission reports and go back to ignoring your existence. 

You sighed out dramatically and pressed the feathers of the quill between your upper lip and nose. Not noticing as a bit of ink stained your cheek. It had been a few weeks after the dance and the last thing you needed was to be alone with your thoughts. Instead, you focused on the ambiance of moody’s office. The sound of ruffling paper and the scratch of quills to parchment. The buzz of battery operated lights were preferred to the heat trap that was Moody’s desk, his instance on candlelit space and lanterns that burned threw oil like mad, only succeeded in making the small space unbearably hot.

It did set a melancholy, the warm yellows and hazy space truly made you a bit tired. Arms crossing and leaning down on your desk, chin against your arm, before a voice cut threw the monotony.

“Having fun here, gorgeous?” A voice cut threw your thoughts and dragged you out of your slump. Slowly, you smiled to yourself, leaning back and looking over to the familiar figure in the entrance of the mini office. 

“Barty Crouch Jr.” you hummed and he put his hand over his chest in a fake offense. 

“My full name? What happened to ‘little bastard’?” Barty purred and you couldn't help but laugh.

You and Barty never talked at school, even with your small friendship with Pandora and Regulus. He had a certain hatred for your rowdy bunch, and in turn, you hated him. However, ever since you got picked up on your apprenticeship, he was always around the corner.

The first few days of pretending you didn't know him didn't work. His father had a habit of dismissing him during hearings, leading him to stray to you. After the first two trivial encounters of fiddling fingers and weird familiarities, the visits became more willing, unfortunately. He was funny, a bit of a flirt, but you learned quickly it was his expression of love, both platonic and intimate. You usually spent this time together listening to him rant and rave about that Evan Rosier kid in Slytherin.

He was another you didn't care for, but Barty was smitten and you never had the heart to tell him how much you disliked to hear about how Rosier had very kissable lips.

Barty was depraved and his filter was non-existent.

You liked him a lot.

“A thousand apologies, lil bastard. What brings you to my slums?” You hummed and he walked over, taking Moody’s seat, man spreading and leaning all the way back. Using his heels to spin the chair around to face you, before idly swaying. 

“Dad stuff.” He hummed and looked at you before gesturing to the paper in front of you. You lifted the page so he could get a good look at the scribbles. Doodles, your signature signed the paper in several different ways, and some places with swirls and stars. He laughed.

“That's what they have you doing all the time?” He cheeked and grabbed your quill, still between your lip and nose. He fiddled with it while you smirked.

“Yup, I am the big dog here. They wouldn't dare give me real work. They fear my potential is too great. I may tarnish a record or two.”

“Or your father’s reputation.” Barry mumbled and your smile slowly fell. You sat up and leaned your head in your palm. You carefully looked him over. His confident and excitable posture seemed a bit mellow, and his eyes were drifting everywhere but you.

Ah, that's it.

“Did he say something to you?” You mumbled and he gave a loud exaggerated groan, trying to cover up his watery throat. “I just hate coming here. I mean, my dad is kissing ass all day for a chance at the Minister role, basically ignoring me until he's telling me just how awful I am.” He scoffed and tossed your quill on the counter. 

Your brow pinched at his words. Over the very short time you've known Barty, he's always been honest and open with you about his feelings. Maybe it was the anonymity, knowing you wouldn't say a word, you were practically strangers. Or maybe it was how he was with everyone, again, you hardly knew him.

“You know that's not true, right?” You whispered, inching yourself closer by your toes. Barty looked up and slowly smiled at how ridiculous you looked. 

“Yeah?” He mumbled.

“Yeah.” You nodded firmly. “You don't have anything to prove to him.”

“It certainly feels it.” He admitted, looking down. Only for a voice to cut in. 

“Ah! Good to see you feel comfortable, Junior, please, take the whole desk!” Moody boomed from the entryway before he gestured to the two of you. “The two nepotistic children fancy each others company? Who would have guessed.” 

You sighed and gave Barty an apologetic look and he waved his hand. You almost didn't catch the black ink peaking through the top of his sleeves. You quickly reminded yourself that it was likely just a tattoo. Barty was one of the smartest boys you knew, if not the smartest. He wouldn't.

“I'll see you next time.” He put back on his confident look and sent you a wink. You slowly smiled and rolled your eyes, watching as he left. You gathered your things as Moody began to sit down. 

“And where do you think yur goin?” He snarked as you filled your bag. 

“It's five, Moody. I don't have to waste any time in this building after closing for another two years. Be seeing you.” You dismissed him and he scoffed, “Just because the clock says you're done, you give up? That's not how this world works, girl!”

You scoffed at him, before a familiar voice called out to you two. “Oh, come on, grump. Let the lil Niffler go, she had school in the morning.” 

You snapped around on your heel to be greeted by the Prewett twins. Smiling bright at Fabian who was rubbing the back of his neck with a yawn, before Gideon gestured you over. Both of them clearly packed up and ready to go.

“Come on then, we'll walk you to a floo flame.” The older twin spoke up and you nodded, smiling brighter. Hurrying over with a mutter of thanks. 

“And stop calling me Niffler.”

“Anything for our little coffee runner.” Gideon mused and threw his arm over your shoulder, making you groan.

“Actually, Niffler is fine.”

~~~

You woke with a stir, once again, from a knock on your bedroom door. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, taking in your surroundings with a start, before you slowly calmed. That wasn't the first time you had a dream about your past memories, but it was the first time it had been that vivid. It was reassuring to be met with the dark thistle print wallpaper, the wood furniture, and the absolute plush mess that was your bed.

Your bedroom wreaked of your youth, records on the wall, half eaten by the vermin that invaded the home. Gryffindor memorabilia that trumped your small touches of green, somehow staying the brightest thing in your home. You did your best to restore it, but it had been a three month long mission returning it to its past glory.

The knock came again and you snapped from your thoughts, sitting up and groaning. “Come in!” 

You rubbed your eyes as the door opened, peaking between your fingers as they strained the skin around your eyes, as if that would help wake you.

“Morning.” The familiar sweet honey-like sound filled the room. You slowly smiled as you saw Remus enter, holding two cups of coffee. His voice was always deep in the mornings, more hoarse than most. He must have been up for a while.

“Moony, you're the absolute best.” You mused and made grabby hands for the cup. He laughed and set it in your hands, tapping your calf. You bent your legs on command and he took the space your legs previously occupied.

“Did I wake you?” He hummed before he took a sip of his own bitter mixture. You nodded along and took in the rich smell of what was once expensive and surely delicious foreign coffee, drowned out by an excessive amount of sugar and milk. 

“Mhm.. how long have you been up?” You quizzed and took a sip of your overly sweet drink. 

“Just a few hours. Padfoot took Harry out to go fly on his new broom over the fields. Woke me up.” He chuckled and you gave a fond smile. The summer had gone so smoothly so far, everything was domestic and homely. It had only been two months, but you fell into an easy routine.

“I hope he takes good care of this one. It would be poetic, Sirius gave him his first and last broom.” You smiled and stared down at the bubbles forming on the top of the coffee. Remus turned to look fully at you, before he slowly reached out to grab one of your ankles, his large hands covering a bit of your calf as well, before he began to rub the skin a bit. You had to bite your bottom lip to keep your mind on one side of the road.

Living with the boys was domestic bliss, living with Remus and Sirius was marital hell.

“You're drifting.” He whispered and you nodded, setting your cup down.

“Just.. odd is all.” You mumbled and looked down at your thumbs. He pressed his thumb flat against your ankle and tried to persuade you to continue. “Odd?”

“Odd. I know the years I lived as a muggle weren’t real, based on fabricated memories..” You trialed off and looked away. “But finding out those memories weren't real and..” You gestured around. “Learning all that's happened. I'm sure there's more I don't know. I had to learn from an old newspaper what happened to Harry, Moody wouldn't give me specifics.”

You slowly sunk into the pillows and folded your arms over yourself. “And I just.. I missed 12 years. 12 years of my life. I've learned not to be bitter about it, no use to it. But sometimes I'll remember things about people I… I should have known better. Then Harry.” You whispered and covered her face.

Remus leaned forward and reached out to tilt your chin up, his touch gentle and comforting. His deep hazel eyes locked onto yours, filled with understanding and a hint of something more. Something so familiar. Something that once broke you down to your most basic form and shattered your heart. Something you hated to say you longed to see in his eyes again. The air between you crackled with unspoken emotions, a tension that had been building for some time now. Like the egg shells you walked on when it was just you two the first month were swept away.

“I know it must be overwhelming, to feel like you've missed out on so much,” Remus began, his voice low and soothing. “But you have a chance now, to make new memories, I don't think I've seen Harry so happy. He's reverted to a child, it's amazing to watch.” He chuckled. “And you're not alone in this, I'm here for you, always. Uhm..” He cleared his throat. “Sirius too.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, his proximity sending a rush of warmth through you. Then the guilt sunk in at his last words. Quickly, you looked away from him and took your face from his hands. Right. The reminder of Sirius made your heart ache helplessly in your chest. You closed your eyes with a small sigh before looking back to Remus. The way he looked at you, with such intensity and care, made your heart race in a way you couldn't quite explain. A painful way. A way that showed just how badly you wanted him. 

Then, the words from the Shrieking Shack would ring in your ears.

“Ah yes, how could I ever forget my favorite of the furry bunch?” Remus’s words sunk into your mind easily. 

“She's yours?” Harry gasped.

“She's mine.” Sirius snapped back before he looked at Lupin. 

The guilt settled in quickly. If you were his, why did he act this way? Why did he push you away? Why did he act like you were nothing? Why didn't he give you the ring back?

You looked down at your fidgeting hands and Remus gave a low sigh through his nose. You met his eyes again and he gave you a strained smile, patting your knee. “It's alright.” He mumbled, before he could dismiss himself, the door suddenly rushed open.

“{Y/N}, darling, are you ready?” Sirius’s excitement was cut off when he saw you both. Remus’s hand on your lax knee and practically swallowing your form from where Sirius stood. Both boys clenched their jaws and you shooed Remus off, standing and turning to your wardrobe. “What is it, Sirius?”

“I uhm..” He gathered himself before he shook his head. “Harry, has been invited to the Weasley’s for the World Cup, seems they would like him to head there early.” 

The room was thick with tension and you cut through it as if it wasn't there. “I'll be right out. I have to change first.” You spoke to them without turning. Remus slapped his palm to his thigh and sat up. Nodding to Sirius as he passed him, but Sirius never moved.

You turned to him and arched your eyebrow, he crossed his arms and leaned in the doorway. “Its nothing I haven't acquainted myself with.” He mused nonchalantly, slowly smirking. “Intimately.”

This bloody bastard, what was he trying to prove here?

You gave a laugh turned scoff and lifted up your left hand, wiggling your ring finger. Sirius frowned and you glanced back at him again. “Out.”

You put on something light, simple for the heat. Your eye caught the snake ear clip the twins had gifted you years ago, looking around the red covered room before you slowly smiled and picked it up. The only Slytherin inspired gift you'd ever received, of course, the twins always saw the houses for what they were. It only made sense they would be the ones to admire that about you.

You and Sirius packed up the car, as Remus went over everything Harry needed to buy this year, making sure he had packed everything.

After a fair bit of goodbyes, you and Harry set off to the Weasley’s. Not after Sirius asking for the thirteenth time if he could tag along. During your ride to the Weasley’s, Harry managed to stay up the entire time. Talking to you about his morning venture into the town with Padfoot. 

~~~

When you finally made it to the burrow, it was midday. Molly and who you assumed to be Ginny were sitting outside the house, talking idly. You landed the car a bit away from the house, and from the corner of your eye, you spied how interested Harry seemed to be that the girl was coming to greet him.

Interesting development.

“Boys! Come help {Y/N} with her bags!” You heard Molly shrill and laughed, climbing out of the car and waving off Molly. 

“Me and Harry are plenty alright, Molly! It's just his bags for now!” You called over and she tutted, closing the distance between you two. The grass fields brushed against your calves and the sun was practically cooking your skin. Harry grabbed his bags and his owl himself and hurried over to Ginny.

“Harry, why don't you go greet Ron?” You hummed and he nodded, turning to Ginny who stuck her tongue out at him and ran inside. He laughed and hurried after her, making you smile. That was so familiar.

“Oh, now, {Y/N} dear, before you go inside I have some news for you.” Molly fussed as you both walked to the front door. You began to fan yourself with your hand and use your other to block the sun from your eyes.

“Oh please make it quick, it's bloody scorching out here.” You laughed and put your hands on your hips, leaning forward to squint at her. Both of you facing each other outside the cracked front door. 

“Well, we have company,” She started, her hands clasped together in front of her. “I don't expect him to be here so soon, honestly I forgot I lettered him, and he certainly didn't tell me he would be coming so soon.” She rambled on and you gave a nervous laugh.

“You have me worried here, Molly.” Before you could continue your thought, you felt something wet and cold against your ear and Molly’s face dropped. You snapped your head around and your eyes locked onto two beady black ones. A bloody Niffler. Pilfering your ear ring! 

“No! You put that down!” You shouted and tried to catch the weaseling little thing. It crawled down your entire body in a spiral motion before dashing inside. 

“You rotten rodent!” You shouted and ran inside after it, Molly’s cry for your attention falling on deaf ears. You were not going to lose one of your favorite pieces of jewelry to a damned backwards goose. “Get back here!”

You dashed across the house for it, knocking around tables and hitting your hips on protruding corners, before it wiggled its way into the kitchen with squeaks of distress. 

You were panting, coming up the the lively open kitchen, grabbing a chair back as you gathered yourself. “Who's ever.. bastard child that is.. I have a few words..” You wheezed, gesturing to the blurry figures in front of you. It seemed the full family was there, talking to someone you thought to be Arthur for a moment.

The murmuring settled down before you rubbed your eyes as spotted the little criminal. You gasped and pointed at it, as it crawled up the leg of the man. The small group, George, Fred, Ron, all stepped aside and watched as you gathered yourself.

Then you heard a laugh.

A laugh you knew better than the owner's voice.

Your face fell and your eyes raised to meet hazy brown ones. 

Gideon fucking Prewett.

You took the chance to take him in, still in shock. He was older now, had to be in his late forties, looked it too. His smile was fuller, his eyebrows bushy and his fiery red curls were long enough to frame his bearded face, with speckles of white. 

Broad shoulders, if you were allowed to say that, considering his left arm was completely gone, up to his shoulder. He just kept smiling at you, reaching back with his palm out for the Niffler to return it. “Don't steal from your name sake, Vix.” He tutted and you crumbled.

“Gideon-” Your voice broke and he opened his arm. You hurried over and wrapped your arms around his stomach. He chuckled and patted your back, returning the earring to your ear.

“I thought I lost ya, Niffler.” He whispered in your ear and you gave a watery laugh. 

“So you replaced me?” You jabbed and he laughed.

“Needed something to annoy me. You and Fabian…” You shook your head and hugged him tighter.

Molly entered the kitchen and smiled fondly at the reunion, before ushering her kids out. The twins complaining as they left. Molly and Gideon shared a nod before he nudged you softly. “So, I assume you have some questions.” He mumbled into your temple, and you nodded. 

“And me to answer them?” He chuckled and you nodded again. 

“Just.. just a little longer..”

~~~

You found yourself again, at the Weasley’s, having a conversation with a dear old friend.

You both set up in the kitchen, sitting at the table. You were fiddling with your finger and he gave you a patient and loving smile. It seemed he grew calmer as he aged. You could still see that spark of mischief in his eyes, but it was mellowed out, possibly drowned out by the excitement he had when he looked at you. 

Your eyes slowly fell to his arm and he gave a small chuckle. “Well, I guess it's time I tell you what's happened, hm?”

“That night, when you apperated?” 

He nodded and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I panicked when I heard Fabian scream. It broke my concentration. I was redirected home.”

~~~

The crackle of apparition snapped through the empty room. Not even the moon light slipped into the dark space, as it became more and more clear to him, he wasn't at the ministry. 

He heard thundering footsteps hurry up the stairs, he was growing foggy. The door slammed open and he slowly looked over, his eyes locking with Mary’s. She was smiling, holding up her status reports he had tasked her with before he left with his brother merely an hour ago.

Her face slowly fell as her eyes widened in horror at what she was faced with. Gideon Prewett, sprawled out across a broken desk, with a brutal twist to his arm that she could practically feel. Slowly, he grimaced and tried to stand up, only for all the pain the adrenaline had kept at bay to come rushing forward.

He let out a pained wail, much like his brother’s, and fell forward. His mind was still not clear, but he saw Mary. The only person he could protect at the moment. From what? He didn't know, but she was within reach. The sounds of papers falling to the ground and heels against his wooden floor filled his ears as Mary ran over to him and put her hand to his chest. Lifting him back up as he wrapped his good arm around her shoulder. Clinging to her arm with a rough grip that made her wince. “Boss-”

“We need… we need ditany.” He spoke carefully and through his grinding molars. She quickly tried to pull away but his grip tightened on her. Suddenly, the idea of his own apprentice leaving him, with you and Fabian’s status unknown, was far more terrifying than he would like to admit. Mary looked at his hand and quickly looked around the office. She took her free hand and lifted her wand to the roof, commanding her patronus forward.

Her glowing brown bear manifested before her, as Mary felt her throat tighten as her eyes grew wet watching Gideon slipped in and out of consciousness. She had no choice, she knew, even with all the pain he had caused her in their youth, she couldn't lose her Prewett. “Take this message to Snape..”

Gideon slowly faded away, loosening his grip on her shoulder and falling limp against the shredded wood and scattered parchment, the last thing he could recall was her patronus running off into the curtained windows, the very blinds she soon opened when he lost his grip.

He woke up an hour later, in his bed. He winced, a muted and groggy pain filled him. The tense and rocking pain was something he was used to, his muscles tightening and his blood rushing, paired with a splitting and deep sting. Without that sting, he felt off, like the pain was just around the corner, waiting to bite back.

He could feel something in his hand. Gripping a bit tighter the numbing buzz was pushed aside and he was able to feel the familiar warmth of another hand in his own. He turned his head and blinked away his grogginess, seeing Mary staring at him with so much worry and care. He gave her the sweetest smile he could muster but it only worked to break what little resolve she had.

He rubbed his thumb over her smaller hand, and she leaned forward from her chair to press her head to his knuckles. Like she could process that he was alive, but the fear of losing him was so great that him smiling at her could only show her what would have been lost. 

“I'm alright, grizzly.” He croaked and she shook her head, sniffling as she dried her cheeks.

“Dumbledore went to retrieve them..” She whispered and he was snapped out of his mind and shoved back into reality. He tried to sit up, but his left arm didn't quite respond and with Mary clinging to his right hand he could only lay back. He looked across the room and noticed Snape’s slight wince and his drifting eyes. 

“What's happened?” Gideon commanded across the room and Severus avoided his eyes. He tried again to lift himself but Mary tightened her grip, pressing him closer as she began to cry. His face fell and a dread filled his chest.

���What's happened to them?” He croaked out, his turn to try and hold back a sob. He knew the moment Mary began to let her sobs wrack her body. The way she held his hand let him feel the warm tears that wet her face. He knew they were gone.

He let his head fall against the pillow and he stared up at the ceiling. He tried to stay stoic, only for his grip on Mary to once again tighten as he sniffled, letting out a sob, crying out. Mary quickly let go of his hand and looked down at him, only for him to wrap his arm around her back and pull her full weight against him. It was grounding and she was quick to hug him, letting him sob into her shoulder. 

She was all he had left and he didn't plan to leave her behind. 

~~~

“When I left for America, I took her with me.” Gideon mused and took a sip of his tea that Molly had hurried over to make. Your eyes widened and your jaw went slack. A million questions passed through your mind at once, but one took president over everything else.

“Mary? Mary is alive?” You pushed and he grimaced a bit. 

“She is. She sends her love but..” He rubbed his neck and bit his cheek, trying his best to gather himself. “This place, it's painful for her. Even with you home, she doesn't want to face this.” 

You nodded and furrowed your brow at your hands. Giving a low huff. “Not that I ever had the choice.”

“Given it, would you have come back?” He pushed. “She's built a life out there. I have too. You can't blame her for choosing her peace.”

You clicked your tongue before slowly nodding and leaning back in your seat. Trying to think back on everything you had been told, before you winced a bit. “Madeye. He said she was attacked, that they found her at our hideout.” 

“She was hurt. But alive.” He reassured and took a steady breath. “I was out of commision and Remus couldn't face it. Mary went to retrieve what she could from your safe house. Her clothes, her research, her gear. I had offered her Fabian's room until she could join me in America.”

You began to pick at your nails and slowly looked up. Your voice crackles a bit. “And?”

“Mulciber was there. Mary told me bits and pieces of what's happened but.. it seems she's blocked a lot of it out. Says it was similar to what happened back in her school years, she hardly managed to hold on. Then Remus found her and..” He sighed through his nose. “The boy was already rattled by what was going on, sent her to St. Mungos and then she came to live with me.” 

You nodded and closed your eyes. You remembered what had happened to Mary in your seventh year, you didn't happen to see it but you remembered the night terrors and the bits she told you in your shared dorm. You always thought it was unfair, Mary was such a sweet girl, quiet and reserved, but she was brave to a fault. When she told you she defended a first year muggle born you already knew it would end poorly. She was alone, she was scared, and what happened to her terrified you.

You were sure that night is what made her change her profession choice. She wanted to protect people, be able to protect herself if that ever happened again. She said she wanted to be strong, like you.

It made you wonder how differently she would see you if she knew the truth. Yes, you could fight, yes, you were strong, but that meant nothing if every time you were faced with significant danger you folded in on yourself. 

“Where have you gone?” Gideon called over to you and you snapped out of your trance.

“Sorry just.. a lot on my mind.” You admitted and looked down at your own tea cup. “Are you going back to America after this?”

“As much as I'm sure you'd love to get rid of me.” He mused and shooed his Niffler away from his spoon. “I am here to help with the tournament this year.” 

“Really?” You huffed with wide eyes, straightening your back. “Do they really need all three of us? I thought it was excessive that they wanted me to come along with Moody.” You huffed and he chuckled.

“Well, he's getting old.” Gideon mused. “Also said we'd be a great help to the defense against the dark arts class.” 

“You are an awful teacher.” You deadpanned and he gave a playfully horrified gasp. 

“Mary seemed to catch on quick.”

“Mary is as smart as a whip.” You challenged and he scoffed. You slowly found yourself smiling before you looked down again. “We should start heading there now. Don't want to give Moody any more of a reason to be upset with me.”

“Upset?” He parroted.

“Yeah… turns out, if you don't want to be on Moody's bad side, don't run off with a wanted criminal to confront a dead man.” You waved your hands about. “And definitely don't get caught with a lycanthrope on a full moon.”

You looked back up at Gideon after a moment of silence and couldn't help but laugh at his shocked and scandalized look. 

“You what!?”

You stood up and rang your hands together. “Do you have your bags? I'll tell you on the way to Hogwarts.”

[etherealhannie]

( oneshot ) ،، hidden beauty ،، ⌇ 조슈아

─────────────────────────────────────────

،، you hide but only appear when you smile , where did you come from ? don’t lie , i know you’re an angel ،، .ᐟ 🍨

pairing .ᐟ bf!joshua × gf!fem!reader genre .ᐟ established relationship , admiration of indentation word count .ᐟ 1.1k song rec. .ᐟ dimple - bts

note .ᐟ hii , i know ive been gone for too long , but──i don't where this coming from but , i was shuffling on spotify until dimple come across and i levitate for a moment . jungkook's adlip- hello ?? the whole vocal line ate im afraid . and as i was scrolling through tiktok , joshua appreciation edit appears and i notice his smol dimple so i have to do it .

─────────────────────────────────────────

The first time Y/N noticed it, she was caught completely off guard.

They had been walking through the park, the sun low in the sky, casting a soft golden hue over the world. Hong Joshua, her lover of three years, was laughing at something, his usually serene face breaking into an unexpected smile. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him smile, of course—she had seen him smile thousands of times. But this smile, this one was different. As his lips curved up, the soft skin on his cheek pulled back ever so slightly to reveal a faint dimple.

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned. How had she never noticed it before?

“What's wrong, dear?” Joshua asked, his laughter dying down as he looked at her, his smile easing back into his more typical calm expression. And just like that, the dimple disappeared, as if it had never existed.

“Nothing,” she murmured, her eyes still tracing the spot where it had been. “I just… never noticed your dimple.”

“My dimple?” He tilted his head in confusion.

“Yeah, right here,” she said, reaching up and gently pressing her fingers to the spot where she’d seen it, brushing her thumb lightly over his smooth skin. “You have a dimple when you smile a certain way.”

Joshua laughed again, and there it was—the small indentation, just deep enough to be noticeable but subtle enough that it could easily be missed. “I’ve never really thought about it,” he said, amused.

Y/N smiled softly, her heart warming at the sight. There was something about it, something about that hidden dimple that felt like a secret just for her—a little treasure that only revealed itself in those moments when Joshua’s guard was completely down, when he was relaxed and happy. She found herself wanting to see it again, and again, and again.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N became acutely aware of how rare that particular smile of his was. Joshua smiled often, of course—he was always warm and kind, his face lighting up with soft grins or gentle chuckles. But the dimple, that hidden mark on his cheek, only appeared when he laughed with genuine joy, when something really caught him off guard or made him truly happy.

It became her little mission, though she never told him. She wanted to see it again. She wanted to bring out that kind of happiness in him, to be the reason for those deeper, unguarded smiles. So, she started doing little things—bringing home his favorite snacks, sending him random funny texts during the day, playfully teasing him when they were together. She even started trying out silly jokes, which, to be honest, rarely worked, but every now and then, she’d strike gold and his laugh would bubble up, rich and full, his dimple appearing for just a moment before fading away again.

One evening, they were lounging on the couch together, Y/N lying with her head in Joshua’s lap while he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone. She was in the middle of telling him a ridiculous story about a mishap at work, exaggerating details just enough to make it funnier. She could see him smiling down at her, but not the smile she was really aiming for. His usual, small smile, warm but reserved.

“And then—get this—the whole cake just fell on the floor. Splat. Like, I’ve never seen anything fall that fast,” she said, using her hands to gesture dramatically. “It was like the universe wanted that cake dead.”

Joshua chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds like a disaster.”

“Oh, it was,” Y/N said, grinning. “But the look on my coworker’s face—priceless. Like she just saw her future flash before her eyes and it involved a lot of cake cleanup.”

And that did it. Joshua burst into laughter, a real laugh this time, one that made his shoulders shake. Y/N's eyes snapped to his cheek, and there it was—the dimple. Soft, barely-there, but perfect. She smiled up at him, her heart fluttering.

“What?” Joshua asked, his laughter still bubbling out as he looked down at her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

“Nothing,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “I just like seeing you laugh.”

Joshua’s smile softened, his laughter fading but the dimple still faintly visible as he looked at her with those warm, understanding eyes. He tilted his head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I like it when you make me laugh.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t help but reach up, tracing her fingers along his cheek. “I like your dimple,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Joshua blinked, surprised. “My dimple?”

“Yeah. It only shows up when you’re really happy,” she explained. “It’s like a little secret.”

Joshua seemed to consider that for a moment, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. “I never thought about it that way,” he admitted. “But if it’s a secret, I guess it’s one that only you know now.”

Y/N’s chest swelled with affection, and she smiled up at him, feeling like she’d been given a gift. Not just the dimple, but the knowledge that she could make him laugh like that, that she could bring out that hidden part of him.

From that moment on, Y/N found herself constantly seeking out opportunities to see Joshua’s dimple. It became something of a game, a private challenge she set for herself. She learned what made him laugh, what little things brightened his day. She became a master of silly inside jokes, of playful teasing, of moments that only the two of them shared.

And every time she succeeded, every time she saw that dimple appear, even for the briefest of moments, she felt like she was holding a piece of something rare and beautiful—something that belonged to her and her alone.

In the quiet moments when Joshua wasn’t smiling, when he was his usual composed and calm self, Y/N would sometimes catch herself tracing her fingers over the spot where the dimple would be, as if trying to conjure it back into existence. And sometimes, if he was in the right mood, he’d give her a soft smile, just enough to bring it out again, and she’d laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek, feeling like she had found her very own hidden treasure.

In those moments, she knew—she’d never stop searching for that dimple, for that secret smile, for the hidden joy she knew she could bring to the one person she loved most in the world.