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themoon-saturn · 2 years ago

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Maroon

Kazuha x gn reader

(angst/comfort spoilers for the Inazuma/ Kazuha’s story quests. TW: cursing, drinking, mentions of de@th but nothing descriptive)

Note: okay this is my first fic I have written since like 2014 so I apologize if its not super put together. I listened to Maroon by Taylor Swift while writing it and have had this idea since midnights dropped and finally wrote it down. Pretty long so I'm sorry if there are spelling/ grammar errors. Other than that please enjoy!

When the morning came we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf 'Cause we lost track of time again The sound of laughter cut through the autumn night air though you couldn’t remember what was so funny by the time you both regained your composure. “Ugh, I lost track of time again. I have to get back.” You groaned as you stood to your feet. “We always do. Here, I’ll walk you home.” Kazuha said picking a fallen maple leaf out of your hair. The blood rushed to your cheeks as you bent down to collect the bottle of wine you had brought. “Thanks, but I can manage on my own. I know Tomo is probably waiting up for you.” He chuckled a bit, his ruby eyes meeting yours. “You know I can’t let you walk home alone. Come on before it gets even later.” Kazuha extended his hand and you gladly accepted. You didn’t exactly know how to pinpoint your relationship with Kazuha. He came and went like the wind, but he was never gone for long. When he did return you, both would sit under a maple tree looking over the ocean, drink some wine, and talk for hours. Your company felt like “home” to him. He knew that no matter how far he went, you were always waiting for him to return. Once you both arrived at your home, you turned and hugged him as tight as you could. “Thank you again, Kazu. Be safe and tell Tomo I said hello!” He gives you a smile that could compete with the stars in the sky, “of course I will. I will see you soon. Sweet dreams y/n” his soft voice sounds like the sweetest song you have ever heard. You watch as he walks away from your home, disappearing in the distance. You wondered if he knew the effect, he had on you or when you should bring that conversation up, “This is good for now...” you say smiling to yourself. All is good for now..

I feel you no matter what... The rubies that I gave up and I lost you...

It was storming that day. The vision hunt decree had begun, and you were trying to live life as normally as possible with how things were going. Earlier that day Tomo had told you and Kazuha that someone needed to stand up to the Shogun for the people of Inazuma. You assumed it was all talk... but it was anything but. A lightning strike so powerful and bright could be seen all through the island that you knew what it was. Your heart sank. You didn’t even have time to think when you felt a hand grab your arm and tell you to run. You felt almost numb as Kazuha led you out of the city and into your home on the outskirts. “He went this way!” “Find him and bring him to the Tenryou commission!” You heard soldiers shouting. Kazuha quietly sobbed into his hands, falling to his knees, “Sh-she... I watched him fall. She killed Tomo- “he choked out. He showed you the dying vision in his hands. Tears spilled from your eyes, and you held him tightly. “You are a wanted man, Kazuha; we have to leave.” You knew there was no time to fully mourn the loss of your friend right now and he did as well. Kazuha looked at you with pure desperation, “I refuse to let his light that shone so brightly, be extinguished by the hands of a god...” he whispered. You turned to collect your things, but he stopped you. “Kazuha, we have to- “you start before he kisses your forehead, “thank you...” he says. You try to muster up a reassuring smile and turn back to go into your room. Kazuha knew what he had to do. He left a pressed maple leaf on your table, “I’m sorry y/n” he whispers. He slipped out your door and ran with tears in his eyes. He hopes you understand and can forgive him one day, but he can’t let you get hurt because of him. He knows this means he might not see you again… his home. His muse. “May the winds of fate bring us together again” he says looking back once more. It doesn’t take you long to return but once you see he’s gone you assume the worst, that he was captured, when you see the maple leaf set neatly on your table a whole different pain hit you. You throw your door open and run outside, hoping he’s still in the distance but you can’t see anything with the rain. “Excuse me, but have you seen a man by the name of Keadehara Kazuha come this way?” an officer asked. You couldn’t speak so just shook your head no. He nodded and the rest you didn’t hear. Everything sounded static and you felt numb. He was gone. You had lost the two most important people to you in a day. How dare he? How could he leave you behind? Does he think you couldn’t keep up with him? Were you a hindrance? So many questions ran through your mind and all you could do was try and pick up the pieces of what was left of you. Tomo was gone, Kazuha left, and there was nothing you could do about it.

And I wake with your memory over me… That's a real fucking legacy to leave

It’s been a year. One whole year, without a word from Kazuha. You had no idea where he could be, if he was safe, or if he was still alive. You still have nightmares of that day. You feel like his memory had infected every inch of yourself. It still feels like you are missing part of yourself, and nothing could fill that void. Trying to carry on as normal with nights spent at a tavern, hoping the alcohol will numb you enough to get so real sleep for once. You tried to distract yourself by wondering the city even though the Tenryou commission has its eyes on you now with how close you, Kazuha, and Tomo were. You tried to shake the feeling of their stares as you shop around while also trying to push the memories out of your mind. “There will always be those who dare to brave the lightnings glow...” you whispered to yourself. “Huh? Y/n did you say something?” The shopkeeper asked. “Oh, it’s nothing. Sorry just have a lot on my mind.” You try to fake some kind of composer as you hand her your items. “Take care of yourself and get some rest y/n,” she says with a bright smile while you take your things. You thank her and make your way out of the city, ready for the nonjudgmental stares of home but stop and look at the sky. The maroon hues remind you of him. Almost everything reminds you of him and it felt like a cruel trick of the gods. “Archons...” you mutter. Once inside you pull out the preserved maple leaf that he left you and hold it to your lips. “Kazu... I hope you are safe” you say, gently kissing the leaf. You hope the wind carries your sentiment wherever he is. You wake up in a cold sweat, another nightmare. Unable to sleep, you walk to your spot under the trees overlooking the wide ocean. Looking out to the almost endless sea of stars above you think that maybe Kazuha is looking out to the same sky, longing to see you again. You clutch the leaf to your chest, praying for this to end. “What a mark you left on me Kaedehara Kazuha... a real fucking legacy”

The lips I used to call home, so scarlet (it was maroon)

A few weeks more have passed, and things have been changing. The vision hunt degree has been abolished and the people of Inazuma were celebrating the victory of the Traveler and the resistance. You were sitting under your maple tree, overlooking the beach, holding the leaf in your hand, with a bottle of wine at your side. “For you Tomo..” you say taking a swig of wine. “I miss you. Your sacrifice was not in vain...” you can feel the tears coming but you still smile. He wouldn’t want you to be sad. Taking another drink you look to the sky, “For you Kazuha... wherever you are...” All you can do is hope he is safe and that he may return soon, though you can’t decide if you should curse his name or hold him so tight, he doesn’t leave again. A familiar voice had snapped you out of your thoughts, “Y/n...” It felt like everything froze. You assume you must be hearing things as you take another big swig of alcohol. “Y/n is that you?” It’s another cruel trick. You slowly turn your head to face the voice as your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest. “Kazuha...?” He gives you a worried smile. He can sense the state you are in and knows he’s got to be as delicate as he can be. He takes a deep breath, “Y/n I-”, "Stop” you interrupt. “Why? Why didn’t you wait for me? I lost Tomo.. I didn’t want to lose you too.” Angry tears rolled down your cheeks. Kazuha didn’t know what to say to you. You stand to your feet and charge at him, punching his chest, “Fuck you! Fuck you for leaving without saying goodbye! I thought I meant more to you than that! I thought you loved me as much as I love you!” the words spill out without you thinking. He has been hurting too and you can see it in his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept well like you. His eyes expose himself, of the legacy you left on him. “Y/n please...” His voice was still as sweet as you remembered. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness... but I just didn’t want to see you get hurt because of me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Leaving you was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I had lost my friend and I couldn’t bare to lose you in that way too. I’m sorry y/n.” He said softly. Your eyes stayed glued to the ground when he noticed the preserved maple leaf next to the bottle of wine. “You kept it...?” He said picking it off the ground. “It was all I had left of you...” you whispered as the tears fell from your eyes once again. Your eyes met his and all the feelings of anger melted away. You pulled him towards you, catching him off guard as you hugged him so tightly. He tightens his grip on you for a moment before he separates from you only slightly, his hands cupping your face, whipping your tears away. The sudden touch of his hand causes your face to burn red, “May I?” he asks, the distance between you both starting to close. You nod slowly. His lips meeting yours felt like a strong gust of wind calling you home. It was strong yet soft all at once. Once he pulled away, he smiled at you, “You know... the sky’s beauty doesn’t even begin to compare to yours.” You roll your eyes turning to the maroon sky above. You both sit in silence for a moment before you take his hand. “Thank you for coming home Kazuha.” He tilts your face to look at his, “Thank you for being my home y/n. I love you more than the gods can comprehend.” he says kissing you once more.

#genshin impact #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha #genshin kaedehara #kazuha x you #genshin oneshots #genshin x you #genshin x gn reader #olivefics #Spotify #genshin kazuha #kazuha x y/n

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years ago

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In An Hour

Viktor x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: arcane spoilers, sickness

Author’s Note: this is sadder than i intended it being im gonna need to write one thats much happier than this lmao

Summary: Viktor has been pining for you for years and only gets up the nerve to tell you when he learns he’s going to die soon.

Genre: angst but not like heart wrenching im gonna die angst ig

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Viktor was sitting, rather annoyed at the fact Jayce had decided not to talk about the other projects that the two of them had been working on. They were ready to be out in the world, that was why Hextech was created. He was furiously writing something down, though his train of thought was loose. He didn’t want to talk to Jayce. He didn’t talk to anyone. He could be petty in peace.

“Viktor?” you whispered, opening the door to his room. He turned around in his seat, eyes softening. He could talk to you.

“Hello,” he muttered. His room was a mess, papers and pencils littered everywhere, different equations half heartedly written on things. He was working only by the dim lighting of his work station lamp. It was like a sunset glow on the tips of his hair. “Can I help you?”

“Can I come in?” “Of course.” He gestured for you to come inside. You did so, shutting the door behind you. You walked up by his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he questioned, looking up at you. You sat down on the edge of his desk, crumpling some papers as you did so but he didn’t stop you.

“Just checking in on you.” He dropped his chin a bit, giving you a narrow look through his eyelashes. You smiled, shrugging. “I’m allowed to check in on my friend aren’t I?” Friend. How Viktor had grown to detest that word. You had met through Hextech and grown close, arguably closer than him and Jayce. He had been pining for you ever since. He was unfortunately almost certain you were in love with Jayce. He couldn’t blame you; Jayce was perfect in a lot of ways that Viktor lacked.

“Yes, I suppose you are.” He leaned back in his chair. “Any particular reason?” “No, I told you, I just wanted to see you.” You shuffled the papers he was working on aside and leaned your neck to the side to see what he had been writing. “What are you working on now, smartypants?” He chuckled and gestured to the papers.

“You tell me.” “Oh no no. I am not the scientist in this friendship,” you said, laughing. You picked up one of the papers. “It’s like you’re speaking a whole other language,” you whispered, genuinely trying to make sense of the scribbles and notes.

“You know, I could teach you,” he suggested. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah right. It would take me a whole lifetime to learn even half of what you know,” you said honestly. You handed him the paper. “But why don’t you try, hmm?” He gave you a doe eyed look. He could talk about this for hours. He knew you didn’t care but the offer was standing and it made him smile weakly.

“I’ll bore you to sleep.” You shook your head, laughing gently.

“You could never. I could listen to your funny accent for hours.”

“Funny accent?” he teased. You opened your mouth to say something else when the door swung open. The two of you turned to see Jayce, standing straight in his councilman attire.

“There you are Y/N,” he said. “I told you to meet me twenty minutes ago.” You got off the desk and stood up straighter.

“Sorry, I lost track of time,” you admitted. “I was just asking Viktor about the new things you guys are working on. It looks complicated and-”

“I don’t have time to talk about that right now,” Jayce said quickly. Viktor’s face fell. He was reminded of how Jayce had acted recently and he didn’t like it. You nodded slowly. If you liked it or not, Jayce was your superior. You turned to Viktor.

“You get to bore me later,” you said, with that small hint of a smile on your face. He nodded once and purposefully did not make eye contact with Jayce as the two of you left.

===

You ran your hands through your hair, walking through the corridor. You breathed evenly, peaking in the window of each room in hope to find Viktor. You hadn’t spoken to him much the past few days because you had been so busy helping Jayce with the council. The last couple of weeks have been busy. You haven’t had more than a couple moments to yourself. The longest moment you had was in his room the other day.

Where was Jayce? He should be going with you to find Viktor, talk to him about everything that has been happening. The fact that he was on the council now and making decisions but didn’t show the other creations must have rubbed Viktor the wrong way. It had rubbed you the wrong way and you weren’t the sciency person, you were just the moral support. You had meant to bring it up to him but hadn’t had the time.

You knocked on the door to the room Jayce and Viktor did most of their research. Last you checked Viktor had been messing with the possibility of Hextech being able to adapt and grow. You were betting that’s where he was.

There was no answer. You opened the door anyway.

“Viktor?” you whispered. “Jayce?” Your eyes scanned the room and quickly landed on Viktor who was collapsed on the floor. Your eyes went wide with shock. “Viktor!” You rushed up to him, kneeling beside him on the ground. He was on his side. You shook him, trying to see if he was awake. There was blood on the counter, as well as oozing down his chin. “Viktor?” You looked around. “Help! Somebody!” You looked around the room and then down at him. Panicked, you moved his hair out of his face so you could see him clearly. He was still breathing. “I’m gonna get help. Don’t worry Vik. I’m gonna get help.”

===

“Where the hell were you?!” you yelled at Jayce, finger against his chest. “You’re supposed to be helping him with that damn thing!”

“Where was I? Where were you? Aren’t you supposed to be there at our beck and call?” Your mouth fell open.

“And I am! I haven’t seen Viktor in days because I’ve been helping you,” you explained. “I’ve been at your side endlessly and you don’t even need me! You use me as a crutch Jayce!”

“Because he doesn’t do anything when he’s with you, you’re a distraction to Viktor.” You shook your head.

“Jayce Viktor is in a hospital bed right now. I’m exhausted of you. Come to his damn beside or don’t but that’s where I will be.” You walked past him into the hospital bed, refusing to put up with him any longer. You sat down in the chair beside Viktor’s bed and grabbed his still hand. You could hear Jayce’s voice outside the room, muffled and mixed with the Mel’s. “Oh Viktor,” you whispered, putting your head on your intertwined hands. “Don’t die on me now, we haven’t even had the chance to live yet,” you whispered.

“I’ve lived plenty.” You put your head up quickly, looking into his weak eyes.

“Viktor!” You tried to stand but he was using his entire strength to keep your hands locked together. Your face softened.

“What did they say?” Your gaze fell and the tears you had been fighting suddenly welled up in your eyes.

“They said you were dying, Vik.” He was silent. You looked up at him, his face serene, only slightly unnerved. He sat in silence. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” you whispered. “For whatever happened. I kinda told Jayce off for not letting me be there.” “Good for you my darling.” You met his eyes. He was looking down at you with his careful gaze like he was saying ‘why not now?’ You squeezed his hand.

“Don’t you do this to me when you’re dying.” “I’ve been dying for a very long time,” he said.

“You’re supposed to be letting that settle in. You have to figure out how you’re gonna fix this dying thing, not confessing your love for me.”

“Who said I confessed my love?”

“Should I take back my last sentence?” He paused.

“No.” You nodded and got up, sitting on his hospital bed beside him. You brushed his hair out of his face, a pained look across your features. “I don’t expect you to love a dying man out of pity.”

“Can I love one because I want to?” you asked softly, your voice so low it was breaking. He smiled ever so slightly. With whatever he could muster he raised your hand in his and kissed it.

“I couldn’t let you.”

“Well then I guess I’ll have to force you to let me.” You leaned over him and kissed his forehead. Your lips hovered over his skin. You moved your head down slowly and stared into his eyes. He was pleading with them, gently, always gently. You kissed him. His lips were soft and yearning. When you pulled away his eyes stayed closed. “Now you can’t die,” you demanded.

“What if I force you to let me?” he questioned. You held his frail hand to your chest.

“You don’t have the strength.”

“Rude,” he joked. Jayce walked in the room solemnly. You both turned to look at him. For what it was worth, he did read the room the moment he walked in. He had been hoping you and Viktor would finally get it on after all these years.

“I wish you two didn’t confess your annoying love for each other like this,” he muttered, sitting down on the chair. Viktors face fell with more mixed emotions than he had ever had.

“So do I,” he whispered. “Believe me.”

“I’ll figure this out,” you whispered.

“You already said you weren’t the scientist,” Viktor said.

“I lied. I’m gonna figure this out. I will figure this out,” you promised. You looked him in the eyes and tried to force him to believe you. You stood up straight.

“Y/N…”

“Jayce, I quit. I’m gonna go figure this out now.” Before either of them could speak you stood up but Viktor grabbed your hand, holding you down. You turned to him.

“Figure this out in an hour. Please, don’t go yet.” You stared at him and nodded slowly, sitting back down.

“In an hour.” He gave you a kind smile.

“In an hour,” he repeated.

#viktor x reader #viktor imagines #viktor arcane x reader

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imaginesmai · 4 years ago

Note

heyy, thank you for answering the request!💜sending it again: I want to request a quarantine angst imagine with tom, something like the reader is alone in her apartment, while Tom is staying in his with the boys, so she is calling him constantly because she feels lonely and the boys start teasing, so he starts to treat reader differently and someday when he thinks the call is over he says she’s clingy or something, reader hear what he said, feel awfully and stops talking to him

This doesn’t come late, this comes completely out of time. I needed a time out of Tumblr, because I didn’t enjoy writing anymore. Hope you enjoy this! I changed it a bit since we’re not longer in complete lockdown, but it has the same basic plot!

Oceans between us

You waited patiently as Tom finished his conversation with Harry, who had just appeared through the corner of your call and had taken your boyfriend’s attention away. It was an important conversation, you could understand so much, because Tom had muted himself while they talked so you couldn’t hear what they were saying. You were okay with it, really, because you understood that in his line of work he had to keep some stuff hidden until the movies came out. And you had had your fair share of early spoilers from him to accept it.

The problem was that minutes were tickling, and now there was another person in the room – a boy you hadn’t met before, that was laughing behind Tom. It seemed that, whatever they were talking about, was funny.

“Tom?” you tried again in a small voice, not feeling like continuing the call anymore. You looked at the time above the screen – ten minutes since he muted himself.

Either he had turned off the sound, or he ignored you.

In a burst of irritation, you left the couch and went over to the kitchen, your dog following you close. He sniffed your legs and sat while you took a glass of water and leaned against the sink – if he wanted to talk to you again, you could hear it from there. Manchee, the adorable puppy you had gotten a year ago, seemed to catch that there was something wrong with his owner, so he rubbed his nose against your bare leg.

“It’s fine. We talked this morning, it’s not like I haven’t seen him for days” you smiled at him, trying to get yourself to believe your words. “Besides, he has every right to be busy too. Not his fault that I’m stuck”

But it wasn’t your fault, either. One of your classmates in college had tested positive in covid almost a month ago. Your class had been sent home the next day, and you had been quarantined for 15 days – but the quarantine passed, and the classes remained online because the situation in your country got worse, which meant you could only go out grocery shopping, go the doctor in case of need or to work if you were a essential worked. Since the two last situations weren’t given, you were stuck in your small, rented apartment, going out only once a day to take your dog for a short walk.

The first days were hard, and now it had only gotten worse. You were bored out of your mind, tired and sick of being inside. You cried more often than not, and since your family didn’t have the technology to facetime you, the only person you saw beside your reflection in the mirror was your boyfriend. Tom, who was away in another country filming and busy, and who lately seemed to ignore you more often than not.

As expected, because it wasn’t the first time you had to do so, you ended the call, watching a last minute of an empty camera because Tom had left his phone in the room as he went somewhere else.

“We could restart Vampire Diaries”

A bark.

“Watch Mamma Mia? A classic, never grows old”

Another back, this time louder.

“Not a huge fan of me dancing, fine. I respect that – I don’t share it, but alright. Baking?”

More dog noises.

“Of course, you’re up to anything that involves food. When this ends, I’m getting you on a diet. I promise” you said, and you swore Manchee made a protesting noise. “What was that? The greatest showman? You have the best ideas, Manch”

Manchee ran out of the room as you searched for the movie on Netflix, and you didn’t hear him again. As you watched the movie, you kept looking at your phone, hoping to see a message for him and imagining what would it feel like if he called you back. You didn’t want to be a possessive girlfriend, but it hurt when he wasn’t there now that you needed him the most. Rubbing the suspicious wet feeling on your eyes, you put the phone face down and tried to enjoy the movie, even if it was the third time you watched it in a month.

As expected, he didn’t call you. You held your pride together and spent the next day giving him radio silence – no calls, no messages, nothing. You took Manchee for a walk, who found a squirrel in the park and made you run behind him. You bought the essentials in the supermarket, that was empty, and went back to an apartment that wasn’t your home. As expected, Manchee ate half of your food when you went to the bathroom, and jumped into the shower when you were it. It seemed that he knew you were having a bad day, so he even cuddled in your lap when you sat down to do some college work.

Wednesday came and left, without talking to Tom. By then, your pride held some deep wounds because Tom hadn’t talked to you again. You had received two messages, a good morning and night, and if he noticed you hadn’t answered, he didn’t care. It was almost night time when you decided to call him. After the second try, you were met with the ceiling of an unknown room and voices you didn’t know.

“ – again. What is she? Three?” someone laughed, but you couldn’t see anything. “My nephew is more independent, and she hasn’t started school yet!”

“Dude, I remember a chick I went on a date with” another deep voice said, and you understood Tom had picked up your call without meaning too. Still thinking what to say, the new person kept talking. “She sent me a message right after I left her in her house. And when I didn’t reply, she called me in the morning. I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but I need space!”

“She’s not usually like this, I swear” Tom chuckled, and you smiled just from hearing his voice. Again, you didn’t have time to say anything because he kept talking. “She’s just… we’ve been away for a while, and Y/N’s country is in lockdown, so she’s bored”

“That doesn’t give you the right to call you every second of the day, dude! Last week she called you three times. And yesterday you were on the phone with her for a whole hour” the first boy said. You didn’t bother cleaning the gathering tears on your eyes. “She’s way too dependent”

“She’s big clingy, that’s all. We live in different countries, so it’s hard for us. And, I mean, if she – “

“Dude”

You let the phone fall on the couch and you moved out of the camera, barely in time to cover your mouth and cover the sob breaking free. Probably, you were exaggerating, but you felt as if the world was crashing down. Everything was blurry and you breath was stuck in your throat, and you wanted so desperately to dig a hole and die there. Yes, you were clingy. And yes, you called Tom three times a day. But you were alone, away from home and in an awful pandemic situation that could bring anyone down. Before you could move to end the call, the person who had interrupted Tom talked again.

“The phone – you’re on a call”

There was silence, so wide and deep that you could hear a pin drop. And now they could hear the muffled sounds of someone crying. You saw the camera moving from where you were sitting, and you went to hang up before anyone could see that you had heard the conversation – because if there was something worse than getting stepped on, is to know that people have watched it too. T

Tom’s face came into view, wide eyes and open mouth. He looked pale, shocked, and you had barely time to hear the begging of your name before you hang up. The phone rang again, twice. Two facetimes, three calls. Tom kept calling, messaging you, and you lost track of how many times he called you, until you finally turned off the phone.

Manchee came back to the couch, licking the tears out of your face and whining when your body racked with sobs. He looked surprised when the phone went crashing against the wall, but didn’t go after it. Instead, he squeezed himself in the couch beside you, and you cried your hear out.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland angst #tom holland fic #peter parker #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #spiderman #th #spiderman imagine #spiderman one shot #spiderman x reader #spiderman fic #imaginesmai #imaginemai

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joost8910 · 3 years ago

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My little brother recently started looking into Undertale AUs and its funny hearing him poke at Glitchtale. Spoilers for a 5 year-old ongoing fan series:

My favorite part was his live reaction to Sans dying:

"There's no way they're actually killing off Sans, the fandom's too obsessed. There's gonna be some BS that brings him back." So when sans DID come back he says "I fucking knew it." It’s incredible that he predicted that. When Sans died the second time he cackled.

More quotes from him:

"Wow, that car just fucking vaporized. Frisk does not give a shit. They just fucking ended a life and they don't even bat an eye."

"Asgore is literally a child murderer, why is everyone okay with that?"

"Oh boy, the racist lady redeemed herself. Why should I give a shit about her?"

Now this statement I disagreed with, to which I bring up how her kid died and, more importantly, Undertale's themes of how anyone can change if they just try.

He replies "She was already racist before finding out Asgore killed her kid, then she became double racist. She's also the reason Betty got the edge juice so fuck her. She gets killed off like an episode after being redeemed anyways."

Anyways

"Frisk levelling up by dropping the hottest diss track the community's ever seen."

"Betty just deadass killed a whole school of children. This must take place in America."

"Alphys got fridged. Her only purpose was to get killed off for Undyne angst."

"Damn, Betty really just misgendered Frisk right to their face."

'You should try breathing again' "Wow, it was that easy the whole time? Why didn't I think of that?"

"I thought the reset button was broke, how did Chara time travel? What the fuck happened? What was even the point of that?"

"Only Frisk can defeat Betty because reasons, except Gaster he can do it too."

His closing statement on it is "Beautiful dumpster fire; it's well animated but the plot is dumb. I'm looking forward to the next episode."

Don't get too huffy if you disagree with him, he's young but he can still have his opinions.

#undertale #undertale au #glitchtale

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just--another--daydreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Types of kisses with Itadori

» Yuji Itadori x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

» Genre: Fluff and some angst » Warnings: Jjk episode 12 spoilers, mentions of death, fear of loss » Words: 1.3k

You can find a link to my Masterlist etc in my bio and pinned post

⋘ ──────── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──────── ⋙

First

Your first kiss with Itadori was after your third date

You had watched a movie together and decided to go on a short walk through a park before heading back to Jujutsu High

All the way there, your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, but you chose to ignore it. It was probably only Kugisaki telling you to ‘finally kiss him already, you coward’

“Don’t you want to check who’s messaging you all the time? It might be important,” Itadori said casually, which caught you a little off-guard

“Y-yeah sure!” You had been right. About a hundred messages from Kugisaki flooded your notifications, ranging from giving you actually helpful advice to insulting you and calling you names. You chose not to open them and instead only muted your phone. “Just Kugisaki,” you told Itadori

He cocked his head to the side. “Weird, she’s been sending me strange messages too, all day long. I haven’t read any of them though.”

You both laughed shortly before continuing your walk through the park. The atmosphere was nice since not too many people were around

The two of you talked about the movie, shared your thoughts with one another, laughed when retelling the funny scenes

From time to time, your fingers brushed and after a while, Itadori took your hand in his, which he had done a few times before, but it still felt new and exciting

A few metres before the park ended, Itadori stopped dead in his tracks and you turned around to him

“Yuji? Are you alright?” His grip on your hand tightened a little as he wordlessly stared into your eyes, a thoughtful look on his face. “Yu-?”

You could not finish talking because Itadori cut you off with a kiss. It was quick and short, and did not give you any time to react or kiss back, but at the same time it was gentle and careful

Itadori pulled back and you watched his cheeks turn pink. Both of you were a little shocked by what had just happened, and you only stood in the park, speechless and not moving one bit. Avoiding your eyes, Itadori asked, “Was- was that okay of me to do?”

His face turned even redder when you answered, “Of course it was, and I wouldn’t mind doing that again!”

Goodbye kisses

Goodbye kisses always last a little bit longer

Itadori and you have both seen how quickly the life of Jujutsu Sorcerers can end and there is never a guarantee that you will see each other again after parting ways for a mission

Itadori always holds you a bit tighter during goodbyes, his lips linger on yours for just a moment longer. Sometimes you tell each other to be safe, that you will text one another when the mission is over or in case one of you needs any help. Those are mostly quiet words because saying them out loud, admitting to these possibilities of losing one another makes it feel more real

And so, as soon as Itadori pulls away from you, he gives you his signature happy smile and waves, wishing you good luck on your mission

“Please take care of yourself, yeah?” Itadori’s lips brush the skin beneath your ear as he whispers those words, only audible to you. “Please.” His voice has become more serious and pleading in those situations, ever since what had happened with Junpei. You nod. “I promise, Yuji.”

His lips meet yours and you stay like this for a moment longer than usual. He tightens his hug a little before letting go and stepping back, still holding you at an arm’s length by your shoulders. His eyes scan your face, both for signs of any fear and discomfort, and to memorize every single detail and feature of your face in case anything does end up happening to you.

“Call me if anything goes wrong. You can count on me.” You nod again. “I will.” Itadori’s hands drop to his sides and he lets you go.

Reunion kisses

There is almost never time for a proper reunion kiss

Most of the time, the two of you exchange stuff like souvenirs or snacks you bought on your trips, or just tell each other about what happened during your mission

Thus, kisses when reuniting are mostly quick ones between exciting new stories being told to one another

“Yuji!!” You almost fell into his arms which caused your boyfriend to stumble backward a few steps. “I missed you!” You shortly pecked his lips before stepping back to inspect him. No injuries, no blood, no death. Good. “How did it go? Are you alright?”, you asked, just to be safe.

Itadori nodded with a smile. “Yeah, everything went according to the plan and nobody was hurt!” He lowered his voice a little. “I just think that I annoyed Nanami a little too much this time.” You took a short look at the other sorcerer and nodded. He definitely looked like he had aged ten years in the few days that him and Itadori had spent together.

“Anyway!” Itadori picked up the bag that he had dropped when you had hugged him. “I bought some snacks on the way back and I got a DVD that we can watch together! What do you think?” “That sounds great!” With a swift motion, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. “Do you wanna invite the others as well?” “Sure!”

Sad kisses

Sad kisses are always accompanied by tears, sobs shaking your or Itadori’s body, clinging to the other’s shirt

Circles drawn on the other’s back with the light touch of fingertips, trying to calm the other person down

Light kisses, lips barely even touching skin are placed on wet cheeks and soothing words are whispered

“It’s okay, Yuji.” Your fingertips wander up and down his spine once again. Tears are brimming in your own eyes and you feel a lump in your throat. “Everything’ll be fine.” Another sob shakes the already trembling body in your arms. You are at a loss of words at this point. Your mouth stands agape, but nothing will come out anymore. Nothing you say seems to reach Itadori. A first tear runs down your face and you wipe it away quickly.

You hear another sob but this time it is followed by something else. “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for being there for me.” You tighten your hug a little bit more.

Gentle kisses

Gentle kisses are the most common kisses with Itadori

They are the kinds of kisses you share when both of you feel safe, relaxed and happy

During movie nights, when you are laying in bed together, he places short and soft kisses on your lips as you snuggle into him under the many blankets and pillows that you are sharing

When you cook together, he gives you a few kisses on the cheek every now and then

Tired, tender kisses in the morning after you had just woken up and the reality of having to go to class is not on your minds just yet

Lazy kisses placed on the neck and collarbones when you are just too lazy to try and reach Itadori’s lips from where your head is resting on his chest

“Y/N,” Itadori mumbles. You are on your fifth movie of the night and you are both getting really sleepy. You lift your head from your boyfriend’s chest to look at him. Through half-lidded eyes, Itadori looks at you with a tired smile. One of his hands caresses your cheek as you lean down into a series of short, gentle kisses. You melt into Itadori’s touch as he kisses you again and again, slowly, carefully.

“I think I’m gonna fall asleep any second now,” he mumbles against your lips and you laugh shortly. “You can’t fall asleep just yet, we have to finish this movie first.” Itadori sighs and rolls his eyes playfully. “Nanami’ll be so mad at me for sleeping in tomorrow,” he kisses you one more time, “but it’ll be worth it.”

#Yuji Itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuki x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori yuji #x reader #x you #x yn #x gn!reader #x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader

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neutron-stars-collision · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 17 - Hiding

Masterlist; Chapter 16

Summary: After dealing with awkward aftermath of your moment in Oslo, you and Neil take time to get to know each other during your evening off in London. It leads to a few revelations and important conversations...

Warnings: angst; mentions of loss; psychological issues discussed (kind of); swearing.

Author’s Notes: So this incredibly long and rather heavy on the talking side but also was weirdly therapeutic for me... I swear we’ll get back into the action/fun times soon but this had to happen for these two. Hope you enjoy and please leave me feedback if you feel like it!

P.S. This is between Oslo and Tallinn in the film ;))

Only after you could not breathe anymore from laughing, you managed to calm down. But only a little. Using the comfortable position of your head resting on Neil’s shoulder, you looked up at him. If the clenched jaw and dilated pupils were anything to go by, he still has not recovered.

“A moment?” you asked and enjoyed the way his gaze snapped to you in a flash.

“What?” his brow furrowed with confusion.

His hands kept rubbing your back, hugging you to his chest. Despite the chaos of the situation, it was nice to feel wanted still. To know that your closeness did not dissolve the moment you were interrupted.

“Think we’ll need a bit longer than a moment” you raised your head, eyes flitted across the room.

Pieces of clothing lying around. Wrinkled bedsheets. Neil’s hair ruffled beyond compare and his neck covered in reddish bruises. You knew that you did not look much better.

Neil’s answer was something between a frustrated groan and a heavy sigh.

“The feeling’s mutual” you grinned and slowly disentangled from him “But we better start moving, or he’ll break down the door or something” you climbed off his lap with as much grace as it was possible.

“Christ… can you imagine that?” he met your smile with a crooked grin of his own.

“I’d rather not” picking up your bra from the floor, you tried to put it on hurriedly.

Cursing for the fifth time when your shaky fingers could not hook up the clasp, you felt Neil’s hands on yours, taking over the annoying task. When he succeeded in the first go, he kissed your shoulder gently before realising his hold and stepping back. The warmth in your heart was probably only confirming what you already knew. But there was no time to dwell on it now. You found the skirt almost underneath the bed and could not stop another giggle that erupted.

“What’s so funny this time?” you got up from the floor to see Neil button his shirt, eyeing you amusedly.

“He’s got a great timing, doesn’t he?” you side-eyed the door, putting on the skirt.

“Tell me about it” the dark twinkle in his eyes and the way he nervously shifted, adjusting the belt, made you blush.

With the strangeness of the situation, you nearly forgot how it must have felt for Neil. Had TP not knocked, you would have done it. Without a shadow of a doubt. But you did not, and while Neil helped you with your release, he was forced to ignore it. Your eyes unconsciously glanced at his trousers and then widened. And not only because of how undeniably aroused he was. The suspicious wet patch on his thigh was quite visible. Thanks to you and how needy you have been for him. Bloody hell. With cheeks burning, you met his gaze and nodded your head, indicating for him to look down and see for himself. He got that in no time, shot you an intense stare combined with a deadly smirk, and unzipped the trousers, taking them off right in front of you. You blinked, shocked, and fascinated by all that was revealed. Toned thighs, narrow hips, sharp pelvic bones, a trail of darker hair from the navel disappearing into the black briefs. You were staring, unable to look away. When your eyes landed on the bulge visible through the material, you swallowed. Oh fuck.

“It’s all yours should you want it” Neil’s slightly husky voice made you look up.

He was smirking, aware of your little internal crisis. You need not ask what he meant.

“What happened to the earlier ‘what you can have’ part then?” you arched one eyebrow, distracting yourself by seeking out your shirt and putting it on (fucking buttons).

“Oh, you’ve more than earned everything by now” he grabbed the nearest pants from the laundry pile and put them on “Plus, I was just being a fool. As usual” he zipped them up and started smoothing his hair in the mirror.

“Smooth bastard” you muttered, trying to untangle your hair with just the use of a hand.

For the next two minutes, you both made sure you were as presentable as it was possible. Finally, you gave each other a once over, checking for any clear giveaways such as missed buttons or hickeys in sight, before you allowed Neil to open the door. Awkwardly, you perched on the bed, unable to even fathom how the situation could be salvaged. From the corridor, you could hear their voices:

“Finally. What took you so long? I was beginning to worry you have been attacked in there or something” TP’s innocent questions made you snicker.

“Uh…Sorry, I just had to… deal with something”

That was one way of putting it, you mused.

“I just wanted to discuss with-” TP walked into the room and stopped in his tracks.

You smiled and waved awkwardly

“Hi”

“Y/N?” his eyes widened, and his jaw fell slack “What are you doing here?”

Good question. Nervously, you shifted from one foot to another, looking at Neil for help. He met your gaze warily, just as lost as you.

“I popped in to chat with Neil since I’m leaving tomorrow” that was the best you could manage.

And it could have worked if it was not for the fact that TP stepped onto the fucking scarf you have carelessly thrown to the floor. He looked down with utter confusion on his face. Neil hid his face in his palms. You resisted the urge to jump out from that balcony. Bloody brilliant. The silence stretched; you could see the realization dawning in the dark eyes of your boss. He looked at you and then at Neil, undoubtedly trying to understand what exactly happened. And then he must have realised how uncomfortable the situation was for he spoke:

“I was hoping to discuss something classified with Neil, but…” uncertainly, he glanced at you as though waiting for a sign.

If you wanted a clear way out, that was it.

“Don’t worry, I was about to go anyway” you reached for your bag that somehow found its way onto the desk.

You met Neil’s gaze and smiled gently. He smiled back, but you could see that he was itching to do more. His hand twitched. You wanted to take it in yours. To kiss him again. But that could not happen. So instead, you just said:

“Bye, Neil. I’ll text you later” with a parting smile, you moved past him, letting your hands brush for a millisecond.

“Goodbye,” he replied in that subdued, professional tone you wished he did not have to force.

You grabbed the coat and left without looking back. A rather conflicting end to such a fun night, huh?

*** Just as you promised, the moment the hotel room door closed behind you, you took off the shoes and coat, collapsed onto the bed, and took out your phone.

“Tonight was fun” you smiled and hit send.

For some reason, you wanted to keep up the dynamic you fell into over the course of the night. It felt nice to be open with him, for once not hiding your real thoughts and feelings.

“Calling that fun makes it sort of fall short, don’t you think?” Neil responded less than a minute later.

You grinned at the screen, the idea that he was waiting on your text was pleasing. Because maybe you were actually even like he said.

“Maybe a little. I admit that it was rather revelatory to see you like that” deciding that you can have fun with it, you leaned against the pillows.

You could imagine the surprised face he would make upon getting the message. The parted lips and a small crease between his eyebrows. The image alone made your chest warm up. That must be the l-word, right?

“Why does it feel like we’ve switched personalities or something?” you laughed at the response.

“You seemed to like more honest me”

That twinkle in his eyes when you said something a little riskier was something hard to forget. And so was the way he made you feel. Every kiss, every look, every touch setting your soul alight. That release was bound to show up in your dreams, whether you want it or not. But then Neil already visited those for a while…

“And I do. Just surprised a little. But yes, it was fun. Especially that part when I made you say my name like that”

There it is. You knew exactly what he meant, and yet…

“Like what?”

“Like it’s the only word you know. A prayer. A plea. But then I always suspected that you rather like it”

You blushed. He got you there, as per usual. For a moment, you wondered whether he caught on to that other thing you nearly told him. But that was best left for an actual conversation. One thing you knew for sure was that he deserved real confession from you and not something dropped carelessly amid texting. It was enough that he could have received it the first time you got intimate. Sighing, you typed the response:

“And we’re back to the usual. Will attempt sleep, good night Neil”

You yawned, suddenly feeling the tiredness.

“Sleep well. Thank you for the best night I’ve had in years”

Okay… You were not responsible for the way your heart stumbled and then kicked into the fastest gear. You refused to answer that one text, not trusting yourself.

Falling to sleep an hour later, you knew that there was no way he would not haunt your dreams. There was no getting rid of Neil, from your heart, mind, and every cell in your body.

*** Neil called you the next morning, and you could only assume it was his way of checking whether your passionate moment has not destroyed everything. Spoiler alert: it has not, and you even managed to keep up the strangely honest way of talking to him that began during your date. The regrets and the annoying voices were still very much there, but you kept them under wraps as much as it was possible, instead trying to tear apart your own feelings. You were potentially in love with Neil, and it was only getting worse the more you thought about him. And so, you used the time away to get used to the idea and to decide the next steps to preserve your own sanity. You knew that it would not be possible to ignore it anymore or to deny the existence of those feelings. Instead, you decided to wait while enjoying whatever it was that you and Neil had. The only growing concern was the fact that now, after the initial moment of passion came and went, you were not sure you were ready for more. As a result, many hours over the night have been spent worrying whether you were not about to lose what you just got.

This is why, when Neil texted you after landing at Heathrow to say that he is going to his own place for the night and that he will be in touch the next day, you felt as though a small knife just stabbed you in the heart. It was fine, you both did need space and only last seen each other two days prior, and yet… That is why feelings were inconvenient. And especially love, a word you still were too scared to use too often. Because when you name something, it becomes real, right?

Such thoughts occupied your mind when you tried to focus on the mission report two days after coming back from Norway. You were surprised to see that Neil already filled in his part as you hoped that maybe he would consult it with you beforehand. But you were wrong, as per usual. The overwhelming silence and the gloomy mood it brought you were interrupted by a knock on the door. You checked the time (6:57 pm) and frowned, even though you knew. There was only one person who could come to you at this hour when social convenance prevented rendezvous in private rooms.

The flushed cheeks, crazy hair, and breathtaking smile, as always, were enough to make you speechless. You let him in and stared as he awkwardly stopped in the middle of the room and faced you. So, we’re back to square one. His eyes flitted across your face, neck, and collarbones, and you knew full well what he was looking for. In public, you used the combination of heavily layered concealer and scarves to hide what he did. But now, with the make-up taken off and in an old t-shirt everything was on display for him. The myriad of colours and shapes, all connected to one specific memory. The way he knew the perfect spots to make you gasp and moan. You let him take you apart and put you together again. And he did just that with such tenderness and concentration that you wondered how you could have not fallen. With Neil so close it was hard to think, and so you broke the silence:

“It’s nice that you came by” turning away from his intense stare, you saved the report.

It would have to wait.

“Of course, I…” he trailed off, and you met his gaze again, curious “I’m sorry for not coming round yesterday. Is just that I was tired and had to think a little and my apartment-”

“Neil, you don’t have to apologise. It’s not like we’re together” you interrupted, hating the sudden rigidness of the moment.

But as soon as you actually said it, he frowned. And you knew why. It was one thing to say that he was allowed to have his own space and freedom, another to remind him that in theory there was nothing between you. Only you could fuck it up that bad.

“But we could be” the hopeful look in his eyes only further twisted the knife in your heart.

But before you were forced to reply, he breached the gap between you and embraced you tightly, with his arms around your waist. Despite all those thoughts surging through your head, the response was natural by now. You relaxed in his arms, splaying your palms on his back, breathing in the comforting scent.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the skin of his neck, hoping he will understand.

“It’s okay. We’ve both fucked up in equal measures” the slight chuckle was promising “We can start it over tonight if you want” Neil kissed you on the temple.

But it was one of his hands that somehow found its way underneath your shirt, brushing the bare skin that made you tense up. Because what if he wanted to continue? For a moment, you tried to coerce the brain into cooperating. But it was impossible. All you could think about was the fact that you cannot possibly be enough for someone like Neil. That if you did it now, he would leave because he got what he wanted from you. That you could force yourself, but then it would feel wrong. But maybe that was better than losing him just because of your inability to get over yourself. Suddenly the room was too small, and he was too close.

“That’s why you came?” unable to stop the increasing anxiety, you took a step back “Because I’m not sure…” blushing you looked down, unable to formulate the thought.

But one glance at Neil’s confused face would have given you the answer. He let go of you and tipped your chin. The wounded look in his eyes was concerning.

“Don’t tell me you think I only came here because I want to have sex” he was disappointed and naturally so “Jesus… I thought you knew me better than that” he took a step back and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at you remorsefully.

You really were that stupid.

“Fuck… Neil, I’m sorry. I don’t even know what overcame me and then you… touched me. And that’s okay, but…” feeling the sting of tears in your eyes, you covered your face, turning away from him “I’m so fucking useless. Maybe you should leave and get yourself someone actually sane”

There was no point in wondering how things could be so easily destroyed. It was all you, as usual. The tears began falling down your cheeks, as you expected to hear the door close behind him any moment. But the sound never came. Instead, you heard a sigh and then a touch on your shoulders, turning you to face him. He peeled your hands from your face and met your teary gaze with a small smile.

“I came here because I missed you. For the last two days, I wanted nothing but to hug you, to talk to you about everything because you’re as close to a home as it gets for me” he kissed you on the forehead “And as much as I still want you, madly and certainly, it’s not why I’m here. To be honest I’m not in the mood either right now. We can wait as long as we need” tentatively he cupped your cheek, brushing away the tears.

He was too good for you.

“Sure you don’t want someone mentally stable?” sniffing you met his gaze sceptically.

“Pretty sure” Neil grinned in response and took one of your hands in his “Now, can we try to fix all this by doing what I actually wanted to do tonight?”

“And what is that?”

Your heart was still beating too fast, and you knew that the overwhelming feeling of shame is going to take a while to disappear from your system. But there was something so gentle in how he looked at you, and his words have managed to calm down the initial panic. You were his home. That was too good to be true, but you were willing to believe it. At least for the moment.

“I can show you, but you need to trust me” Neil met your gaze purposefully.

Despite what just happened, you knew the answer to that ‘not quite’ a question.

“I do”

The happy smile you got in return was almost enough to make you relax a little.

“I hope that will be your answer at the altar too” his eyes glimmered playfully, and his lips curled into a smirk.

Your eyes widened. He was impossible.

“Neil- What the hell?” you swatted him across the chest, unable to stop the idiotic giggles.

“Just wanted to make you laugh” he innocently batted his eyelashes.

“Well done then” when you have calmed, you kissed him on the cheek “Thank you. For everything” brushing your lips over the corner of his mouth, you waited.

Instead of answering, Neil captured your lips in a slow kiss. This time there was no urgency, no hungry passion, just the two of you consciously seeking out comfort in each other. Yet the feeling of infatuation was as strong as ever and gained momentum as he broke the kiss and met your gaze with an unspoken question. Trust. You nodded, breath hitched in your chest as he stepped closer and kissed your neck gently. You closed your eyes, relaxing into the feeling of safety Neil always gave you. After the initial panic, he was careful with how he touched you, keeping his hands steady on your waist.

“I’ve dreamt of doing this again since you left in Oslo” his voice sent shivers through your body.

“Just this?” you allowed your hands to travel up his arms, settling on the nape of the neck.

Toying with the hair ends there, you met his gaze again. Your pulse slowed down, and you knew that was the purpose of everything he did. There was something akin to determination in how he looked at you. As though he knew that what he had in mind will surprise you.

“No, but for this next part, you really have to trust me. What you need to know is that I will always ask” he kissed the tip of your nose before taking your hand in his.

You knew what he meant and blushed. It was a mystery how you managed to get someone like that for yourself. That is if he was actually yours…? Any thoughts and answers disappeared when Neil lead you towards the bed.

“Lie down, please” the intensity of his gaze made the butterflies in your stomach go mad.

Hesitantly, you did what he said, a little awkwardly settling with your head against the pillows and watching as he got rid of the shoes and climbed in after you. Then, carefully as though he was dealing with a terrified animal, he wrapped his hand around your waist. His other hand cradled the back of your head. You stared, unable to make a move or even speak a word. The look in his eyes was as close to love confession as you could imagine.

“Can I?” Neil’s voice broke the silence.

You felt like whatever he was asking for was his already. And yet you were willing to give him an answer.

“Yes”

The shadow of a smile was the last thing saw before Neil leaned in and met your lips in a kiss. Even though you have kissed many times before, at that moment, with his hand delicately placed on your stomach and the other tangled in your hair, angling your head towards him, it all felt different. In a way, it was just like that kiss post-climax. But with more purpose in every move. There was no rush. It was just you and Neil, openly allowing yourselves to show how you felt. As the kisses evolved into a slow make-out session, Neil’s body covered yours with legs entangled, hands on each other, just exploring what was already familiar to touch. Somehow this was not as terrifying as you were worried. You knew that the purpose was not to light that fire but instead to show you how invested he was. How much he wanted you in every possible way. After a particularly long kiss that left you both gasping for breath, Neil leaned back, resting his forehead against yours. The depth of adoration in his eyes was enough to make you bite back the words that were threatening to spill over. Instead, you tried to distract yourself with a seemingly innocent question:

“Was that what you had planned?” you brushed the hair away from his forehead.

“Yes,” his eyes flitted nervously over your features, “I wanted… to show you that I can be like this with you. That it’s not all about the… sexual aspect” he stumbled over the words, making your heart clench with fondness.

“I nearly jinxed it then” you laughed bitterly, tracing your finger over his eyebrows and the creases on the forehead.

“It’s okay. We made it work” nudging his nose against yours, Neil smiled shyly.

Then you shifted so that you could lie partially on his chest, with his arms around you, and started catching up with each other. Despite the break in contact lasting only two days, there was a lot to cover. Or maybe that was because you really enjoyed sharing your thoughts with Neil like this. He would respond with a cheeky comment or laugh at any joke you attempted, making you feel heard. In return, Neil shed a little more light on the events in Oslo. As you expected, TP was not exactly open with him, but the foundations of trust were there.

“TP said something strange that day before our date…” Neil broke the silence the fell.

You shifted a little in his embrace, ignoring the slight surprise upon hearing him refer to the evening as a date. You were sure it was just you who saw it like that.

“How do you mean?” with your head over his chest, you could hear the steady heartbeat.

Neil kept running his hand over the bare skin of your arm, slipping fingers underneath the t-shirt sleeve. His head was propped on the headboard of your bed, staring straight ahead.

“We talked about what’s next, and obviously I had to pretend I was shocked by all that happened in the Freeport… and then he said how I should only care about the plutonium, or else I can be killed after this is all over” when he finished speaking, his hand stilted the movement, resting atop of yours on his thigh.

You glanced up, worried. Now you knew why he waited with this story for a moment more convenient than that night out. Talking about a mood killer…

“I think it’s obviously just that he thinks I’m an innocent bystander pulled into this mess, but… I don’t know” Neil sighed “It was such a weird conversation to have with him”

“I can imagine…” that was bound to keep you up at night “I’d rather you weren’t killed if I’m being honest” you raised your head a little to kiss him on the neck.

It was just a peck, and yet the way he tensed made you smile against his skin.

“I’ve no plans to die. Unless you kill me just by existing” at that, Neil shifted lower on the bed, facing you.

The comment made you laugh, softening the worries prompted by the conversation. It was as though he always knew what you needed. Sharing the same pillow, with just a few inches of space between your faces, you wondered how you made it this far from that seemingly non-important job interview. But seeing the thoughtful look in his eyes, you had that strange feeling considering destiny again. Because how could it be that the universe just so randomly put Neil on your path? You, of all people, certainly did not deserve anyone that extraordinary. But then, remembering all those times, TP alluded to your relationship with Neil made you think. Because if someone literally from the future said things like that, then maybe…

“What are you thinking about?” Neil interrupted your strange train of thought, lightly running his fingertips over your temple

You blushed and attempted to answer without revealing too much at once. You have complicated the situation enough already.

“Just been wondering how we ended up like this…” to complete the sentence, you ran your hand up his forearm.

As usual, he had his shirtsleeves rolled up and so you could plainly see the goosebumps on his skin in the wake of your innocent touch. A sudden flashback to your first hug back on the terrace in Boston was like a revelation. Maybe the signs were there all along…

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been interested. From the moment we’ve met” the factual tone surprised you, especially when combined with the sincere look in his eyes.

“You’re being ridiculous” aiming for lightness you kicked him in the calf.

Only that movement allowed him to trap your leg between his, entangling you even further.

“No, just honest. I can tell you that the moment in the training zone when you’ve panicked wouldn’t leave me alone for weeks”

Oh…

“Because I was so annoying?” you arched your eyebrow, trying to decipher what that look on his face meant.

The conversation took a completely unexpected turn, and you had no clue how. But now, you were too curious to back out.

“Because I wanted to keep on looking into your eyes” oh. “That’s why when I came back after that long mission, I went straight to you. I had to check if it was just a passing thing”

The depth of honesty in his eyes was almost terrifying. Almost, because at the same time, you could not look away. Not without hearing all that he wanted to tell you.

“And?”

You held your breath, awaiting the response.

“I would’ve kissed you had Ives not interrupted us then after I looked at your cut” Neil gave you a small half-smile and caressed your neck just as he did back then.

Letting out a small gasp was all you were capable of. Surely, he couldn’t…?

“But you barely knew me” you frowned, trying to find any logical explanations to that.

Because it was everything but expected. You did remember that moment very well, but then you tended to overanalyse every single situation that had to do with Neil. And yet, it was hard to believe that already back then he was interested. Especially with how you did all you could to distance yourself. Obviously, all of that failed, the walls crumbled one by one.

“It doesn’t really matter when you’re that drawn to someone” the apologetic look in his eyes made you want to kiss him.

Fuck it. You did just that, closing the gap and cupping his cheek. After all those kisses, one could think it would become boring at some point. But it never did. Not with how Neil always responded to you, often letting out small gasps and groans into your mouth. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you responded in kind, trying to show him how much his words meant to you. Adding in a hand tangled in his hair usually did the job. While you always liked kissing as an act of showing affection, with Neil even that felt different. It was as though that simple action was a way for you to convey your feelings without putting them in words that had the potential to destroy everything. Something as straightforward as sharing the same breath, the taste of tea you always felt on his tongue, it was enough to remind you why he was everything you wanted. Another favourite thing was the unfocused look in his eyes right after the kiss, and vividly pink lips parted to invite more precious air in.

“I take it you liked my little confession” Neil smirked when he recovered, watching you stare at him shamelessly.

“I didn’t expect it, but… it’s good to know” settling for the safest answer, you placed your head back over his heart “Suppose in return you can ask me about anything you want” a risky yet fair proposition.

“That’s tempting because I wanted to bring something up…” carefully, he wrapped his arms around your waist “Only promise me not to panic” the slightly nervous tone made you tense, but the steady rhythm of his heart was acting like an anchor.

“Okay”

“Now that we would’ve crossed that line twice… if it wasn’t for our dear boss interrupting” despite yourself, you laughed, burying your head in Neil’s neck “I have to ask what I can do to make it better for you?” as though he could feel the spike of anxiety in your system, he added “And I don’t mean this to be a call out or anything because I’d never do that. Just after tonight, I think it’s a viable question”

Shit… Now even his heartbeat or the arms around you were not enough to calm down the panicked mind. The self-sabotaging voice was on, any remains of confidence gone.

“You don’t have to do anything. You’re all perfect it’s me who can’t get over herself. As usual” the bitterness was unstoppable this time, and all aimed at yourself.

Unable to stay still, you wrestled out of his hold, sitting up and staring at him with wide eyes. But he was not giving in, clearly prepared for that turn of events. Neil sat up too and took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers.

“Stop with this. I’m genuinely asking because when it happens, I want it to be the best experience of your life. And not something you’ll be able to twist into nothing” the raw look in his eyes combined with the determination in his voice was a harsh reminder about your own issues.

Briefly, you wondered how it was possible to feel that much love and admiration but also utter fear and resignation. Because now you had to tell him, and you were fully expecting him to leave after you were done. Even Neil was not patient enough to deal with that kind of baggage. There we go…

“I… I’m terrified of physical intimacy” blurting out that took unimaginable effort yet you pushed forward, meeting his perplexed gaze “I know that it sounds crazy given how much we’ve already done but with you it’s somehow less scary…” you took a deep breath, grateful for his hand keeping yours from shaking “But now, when I actually, consciously want to take that step, all my brain does is give me reasons why it’s a terrible idea” dropping your gaze onto your lap, you started spitting out all that the helpful voices in your head were suggesting “How you’ll leave after you get what you wanted. How it might mean I’ll actually admit that I have feelings and hence begin the process of losing you. How I can never possibly be enough for you” feeling the well-known sting of tears again, you closed your eyes, hoping to block him from the picture “It’s pathetic, I know. And probably makes me sound like a fucking prude since it’s just sex, but… I never could separate the physical aspect from the emotional one and so, I either took too long to open up or hurt myself by acting too rashly” your throat felt dry, but there was one final thing he had to know “I’m worried that I’ll lose you, and yet I care too much to let myself do what I want. You’re too important, but more and more I feel like I’m about to fuck it up. Tonight being the prime example”

You finished the confession and felt the tears fall down your cheeks. Again. The moment felt like a cruel flashback to many scenes like this before. You knew what was to happen next too well. After all, you were there, acting your part every damn time. You were bound to be stuck in this endless loop of getting close to love and then losing it. And all because of some fault in how you were created and wired. Everyone else was capable of letting themselves be vulnerable. Of giving themselves to that one other person, with feelings involved or not. Everyone but you. It was a rather cruel fatal flaw to have.

Before you could get on another internal tirade about how you should have expected such an end, Neil released his hold over your hand to scoot over closer to you. He put his arms around you, hugging you close. The simple gesture made you cry even harder, allowing yourself to rest in his embrace. As your tears soaked through his shirt, he kept on rubbing his hand over your back in a soothing motion. You did not deserve him. You were not enough. Just as you were about to tell him as much, giving him full permission to leave as he wanted, Neil let go of you. You raised your head, fearing the worst, but the look in his eyes made you freeze. There was something so serious yet so tender that you could only stare as he started unbuttoning his shirt with purpose in his movement. Only once he got to the last two buttons, you shook off the paralysis:

“What are you doing?” wiping the tears away you could not help but gape at what he was revealing.

“I just wanted you to see something. To understand” in a simple movement, he took off the shirt and looked at you earnestly “See all this? This is what you’ve done to me” he need not point out what he meant.

The moment you had a clear view of his chest and arms, you could see all the bruises, hickeys, and other marks you have put on his body. The area of his neck and shoulders was the worst with nearly no blank spot on the map. The darkest bruise near the pulse point on his neck was all you needed to be flooded with the memories. His arms had small bruises in the places where you dug your fingers, seeking relief. The bite marks on the shoulder were a reminder of how he brought you to your end mere three days prior. Christ. If there ever was a most clear-cut example of how bad you had it, it was this. To say that you have ruined him was an understatement. Now you knew why he studied your own neck and collarbones. But what was there had nothing to compare with the current sight before your eyes.

“It looks better now, but that first morning I had to opt for a turtleneck, and I never wear those” Neil watched you with an enigmatic expression.

“If you’re trying to make me embarrassed, then you’ve more than succeeded” when you have found the words again, it was hard to get them out without feeling flustered.

“No. I’m trying to make you understand that all those marks for me are a sign that someone wants me. Dare I even say that someone loves me” he finished the sentence and met your gaze purposefully.

You were caught. He knew, and it was without you even uttering the words in the first place. You should have known that someone this smart will notice and understand all that you were not saying. The blush only darkened as you stared at him, unable to utter a word. Because what does one respond when their most secret confession turns out to be known?

“I-” struggling for words, you considered just blurting it out.

But Neil cut you off sharply.

“I know” the intensity of his blue eyes pinned you to the spot “The point is that I don’t need you to give me everything right here and now because I already know that you care. What happened in Oslo only gave me more reasons to believe in you and in what we’ve got” he quickly put the shirt back on and again moved closer to you “No matter what your brain is trying to make you believe, I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you because I know that this is real” emphasizing the last point he cupped your face and kissed you on the forehead.

Then, before searching your eyes for consent, he captured your lips in a short kiss as though to confirm everything he just said. You kissed him back, allowing yourself to pour all you felt into it. He was certainly too good for you. You did not deserve any of this. But, for the moment, you were willing to block it out. All that mattered was that Neil has not left (yet) and was potentially willing to wait for you a little longer. And maybe that was enough.

When you broke the kiss, he smiled at you gently and added:

“As a final note on that, I want you to know that you don’t need to tell me anything you’re not ready to confess” the little knowing smirk made you blush.

Somehow all that you have revealed to him today was not enough. There was one more thing you had to say. And seeing what a roller coaster of emotions the evening was so far, it could not possibly hurt anyone… right? You covered his hands that were cupping your face and exhaled, preparing for the final confession.

“I always saw saying ‘I love you’ as an ending, in a way” you searched his eyes for a moment, finding nothing but curiosity and affection “And I don’t want this to end. Because… everything beyond is unknown and… and this is familiar” sighing, you stared at him, hoping he will understand.

Neil nodded and took you in his arms, offering the needed comfort. It took you long 15 minutes to actually relax in his embrace again and endless internal battles with the doubts that resurfaced. Because although he said it all and evidently cared about more than what you were willing to give him, there was that small chance that he was wrong. Or he simply lied to you. But in the strong embrace and with his hands caressing every part of your skin that he could find uncovered, it was easy to provide some counterarguments and actually believe him. Even if just this once.

It was much later in the evening when you finally started talking again. At first, he just amused you with random stories from the past missions, telling you about all of those instances when his absolutely crazy plans worked out despite everyone else. Especially Ives, who preferred the traditional way of doing things. And then, in the middle of another story about the infiltration of inverted weapons storage in south Chile, he stopped halfway through a sentence as though he said too much. Despite the weariness, you raised your head from where it was lying on his shoulder and noticed the frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” carefully, you placed your hand on his knee.

“I just remembered that this Chile mission was one of the first I went on with Alex” Neil met your gaze with a distant expression in his eyes “I almost forgot that…”

Offering the only comfort you could come up with, you kissed him on the cheek and asked:

“Do you want to talk about it? About him?” it was a risky question, and yet you wondered if this was not the perfect opportunity.

He could always say no.

“Maybe” he met your concerned gaze “After all, I have to tell you at some point”

“You don’t have to do anything”

“In this case, yes I do. Because we’re not supposed to have secrets from each other” the way he said it made you shiver.

You knew full well what he was trying to say. You have long moved past the stage where you were friends who could keep things away from one another. And it was both terrifying and exhilarating. Especially when hinted upon like that, as though it was a fact. For a second, you wondered whether anything was bound to be in order for the two of you. But maybe it was better like this.

Neil cleared his throat and tensed a little, making you understand that he will soon begin the story.

“We’ve met during the training as he was recruited at a similar time. He was from a small place in Canada, studied politics before halfway through the third year he decided that it wasn’t for him and joined the police forces. That didn’t work out either, and so TP found him by accident while on a mission and decided to take him in, hoping to develop his espionage skills” Neil looked at you for a moment, and you were struck by the wistfulness in his eyes “Alex was a natural sharpshooter, not unlike yourself. He taught me most of the stuff I know about guns and shooting. Later he was usually placed as the sniper for the Cavalry”

Even that small bit of information made you understand Neil a little better.

“What was he like?” you asked upon his pause and enjoyed the soft smile that showed on his face.

“He was this kind of a person that lights up the room the moment they come in. Always knew how to make everyone laugh, made you feel better just by sitting next to you in silence and offering his company. And he had the warmest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. The kind that you can’t help but get lost in. It was hard not to fall for him…” he trailed off and looked at you with a strange concern in his eyes “I’m sorry if how I talk about him is in any way hurting you”

You did not expect that. Moving a little to brush your hand over Neil’s cheek, you replied:

“You love him. I’d have to be a selfish idiot to be bothered by that”

“But he’s gone and-” he looked utterly lost for a moment.

You placed your arm around his shoulders, inviting him closer. When he leaned on your side and put his head in the crook of your neck, you heard him exhale.

“People being gone doesn’t mean you stop loving them,” you noticed quietly and felt him tighten his hold over your hand “How did you fall in love?”

“It was pretty straightforward. We started by constantly talking in the classes, choosing each other for the sparring, and he gave me lessons in shooting. I felt so drawn to him, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I had to give in. Believe it or not, but then I was a bit shy and more introverted” the image made you smile “And so one day, he asked me out, just completely out of the blue while we were changing after sparring, and… I was still coming to terms with the fact that I might be… bisexual” he tensed again, and you kissed him on the top of his head “But I just had to say yes because what I knew for sure was that I wanted to be with him”

The sudden pain in your chest could only be explained by the feelings you had for Neil. Hearing him talk like that about someone he clearly loved with all his heart only made you realise how wrong you were about him initially. He certainly was not a playboy type, breaking hearts all around even if he had the looks for that. Neil loved with all his heart and soul, giving away pieces of himself to everyone he ever cared for.

“We dated for a while then, and before I knew he was everything, and we were officially together. TP wasn’t exactly happy about it and kept on telling me to be careful. Saying that while there’s no policy against it, I should remember that this whole business is dangerous and people get hurt” the slightly bitter edge in his voice made you study him closer.

For a moment, you wondered why TP never said anything like that upon undoubtedly seeing how close you and Neil got. But maybe that was not meant to be understood yet.

“How long you’ve been together?” to distract your thoughts, you asked.

“Almost two years” Neil swallowed hard “I was certain he was it for me. And I think he believed that too. But then I fucked it all up, and he paid the highest price”

You waited for him to pick up the story, rubbing circles into his thigh. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were your breaths, his shallower, and faster than usual. And then he nuzzled your neck, inhaling the scent, and spoke again:

“It was supposed to be a normal mission: take over the inverted ammunition transport near San Francisco. Only I was given the lead and decided to complicate it by coming up with some absolutely messed up plan of attack. It was a temporal pincer movement, and Alex wanted to take over the sniper duties as usual but I was insistent he goes into the field with the red team instead” Neil breathed in slowly as though trying to keep rising anxiety under wraps “I should’ve known better especially with how TP tried to change my mind about it. But I was a hot-headed idiot, thought I knew everything, and he was just patronizing” you intertwined your fingers with his “Of course he was fucking right”

“What happened?”

“Alex ended up without a cover in the middle of the mission and got fatally shot by an inverted round. It wouldn’t have happened if he did what he wanted and taken out their sniper. But I insisted on my plan, and that’s what I got in return” Neil sighed heavily, leaning on you with most of his weight “By the time I got to him, it was all over. I didn’t even get to say goodbye” a sob shook his frame, making the pain in your chest flare up.

Embracing him tighter, you allowed Neil to shed a few tears into your t-shirt. You wondered how it could be that you have been both reduced to tears in one night while trying to understand each other better. Suppose this is the price of love.

“I haven’t been with anyone properly since then…” when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse “Just couldn’t get myself involved again. It felt as though I was betraying Alex, the memory of what we had. And I was terrified I’ll lose another person thanks to my own stupidity” he raised his head and met your gaze “Until recently”

Your breath hitched at the sight of his reddened eyes looking at you seriously. He need not say it. You knew. As difficult as it was to believe, you had no choice but to accept it as your reality. Not trusting your voice, you just pressed a kiss to his forehead, ruffling his hair, and then leaned back to study him intently. He looked tired and weary, something you knew could be just as easily found in your face. One glance at the clock and the realization of how late it got was enough to help you decide on the course of action.

“Can you stay tonight?” with one hand still tangled in his blonde locks, you gently ran your fingernails along his scalp.

It seemed like the question was all Neil needed to come back to the present moment. He blinked once and gave you a small smile.

“Of course. I wasn’t planning on leaving” stretching his arms over the head, he yawned “I should have a t-shirt here somewhere, right? After the last time?” the matter-of-fact tone in which he asked made your head go blank for a second.

Because yes, he left a shirt behind the last time he stayed with you, just before Oslo. Back then it was technically for convenience’s sake: Neil had a meeting to attend and so he went straight from your room after having changed. But now, after everything that happened and all that was said, that stupid fact meant much more. It was as though before you knew and admitted a lot of things to yourself, he already became a part of your life. As though you were together before you even said those three crucial words out loud. Feeling Neil’s curious gaze, you stopped the strange train of thoughts and replied:

“Yeah, it’s in the bathroom” suddenly flustered, you could not look him in the eye.

“Okay, I’ll go get changed now” he gave you a quick once-over as though trying to determine your state of mind and then added, “Thanks for listening”

Your head snapped up, meeting his honest look.

“You know I’ll always do that” and then, upon a further thought “It’s what you’ve got me for, after all”

“Not just that though. I hope” Neil’s intense gaze once again made your heart stumble in your chest.

Of course. He would not make you say anything, but he was always able to get you as close to it as possible. That was just the way he was. And you would not have it any other way.

“Yeah, not just that” offering him a genuine smile, you sighed with relief as the bathroom door closed after him.

You took the needed time to get changed as well and to prepare your fragile mental state for what it might be like to sleep with Neil again. It was as close to a routine thing as it could get and yet always made you nervous. And this time was not any different, especially given the fact that he emerged in just that t-shirt and boxer briefs. Your eyes widened, and you could not stop yourself from letting out a small yelp. The sound just made him smile shyly. Okay.

“Just thought that since we… that’s what I usually wear to bed and so…” he stumbled over the sentence “I can go change if that’s too much for you” the offer was made with such a nervous look in his eyes that you already knew what your answer would be.

“No, it’s okay. I just didn’t expect it, but you’re probably right”

To escape further awkwardness, you took that as your cue to disappear in the bathroom. Most of the next fifteen minutes have been spent on calming down. No matter how close you became he still was capable of taking your breath away. When relative peace was achieved, you came back, only to face Neil who was laying down on what became his side of the bed, clearly waiting for you. Courage, dear heart, or however that went, eh?

Without waiting for your brain to catch up and start the panic, you turned off the light and climbed in, mirroring Neil by lying down on your side. He reached out and caressed the side of your face, running fingertips along your temple, cheekbones, and jaw, only to settle on your neck. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could see the hint of a smile on his lips. Even in the faint moonlight, Neil looked ethereal.

“How do you want me?” the sudden husky tone of his voice combined with the situation and dubious nature of the question made you shiver.

Tracing your hand up his arm, you whispered the answer as though it was a secret.

“Close”

“How close?” Neil wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you towards him.

With your chests pressed together and your head fitting perfectly under his chin, you exhaled. But it wasn’t enough. Suddenly the strange desire from the night in Oslo returned. You wanted him as close as it was physically possible. And then some more. Letting out a quiet frustrated whine, you splayed your hands on his back, hoping to somehow get even closer.

“More than this. I-”

It was there. On the tip of your tongue, begging to be released. But Neil knew better than you.

“You don’t have to say it” he interrupted you and angled his hips in such a way that even there was no space between your bodies.

You threw your leg over his hip, just like that last morning. Even now, fully aware of the sexual connotations of your position, it felt too good to be given up. No matter the potential regrets. Just before you started drifting off to sleep, entangled with Neil like this, you felt him slip his hands underneath your shirt, caressing your back with the lightest of touches.

“You’re everything to me. Never doubt that” he whispered into your hair, as though thinking you were asleep already.

For a second, you wanted to pretend that you did not hear it. But… Tentatively, you returned the gesture by placing your hands underneath his shirt, one on the back and the other near the scar from the bullet on his side. Soon you were both asleep.

*** Surprisingly, in the morning, there was nearly no awkwardness. You barely moved through the course of the night, and so as you came to, one of the first things you registered was the warm touch on your back and stomach. And then a soft melody being hummed somewhere above your head. It took that additional 10 seconds to comprehend everything. You were still entangled with Neil your hands were neatly placed on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. The next thing you registered was that the hummed melody was ‘Moon River’ and that Neil still undoubtedly had a musical talent. You raised your head slowly, making sure he was not hit in the process, and faced the bright blue eyes.

“There’s no moon around this time of the day, in case you haven’t noticed” scrunching your nose, you grinned.

“Maybe not, but you’re still ‘a dream maker and heart breaker’” Neil kissed you on the tip of the nose.

“Bloody hell” laughing, you pushed him away a little “And here I was hoping you’re done with all that smooth talk”

“Never” he shifted so that he was hovering over you “Can I do something else I’ve wanted to?” the hopeful look in his eyes was more than convincing.

“Can’t see why not”

A kiss like that first thing in the morning was more than you could have ever wished for. Neil made sure to use all the tips he knew to make you become breathless and bothered. He tugged on your lips with his teeth, making his tongue soften the bruised spots and entangle with yours. His hands brushed over your chest but never quite touching. You reacted by deepening the kiss, letting have it all. For some reason, this early in the morning, nerves were nowhere to be found. It was just Neil. As he leaned back, with that self-satisfied grin and predatory look in his eyes, you should have known that he had one more thing up his sleeve. But before your brain could register everything that was going on, Neil moved down your body, lifted your shirt, and met your gaze before placing a kiss on your navel with precision. It was just one kiss, right where the band of your trousers ended. And yet. You could not stop the way your hips bucked or how your legs clenched together at that simple gesture. It was embarrassingly easy for him to get that reaction. And he was more than fully aware if his smile was anything to go by. But was not meant to be. At least not this time. You whined when he pulled your shirt back down, ending it before it even began.

“I’m glad it’s working” Neil quickly got up and faced your exasperated face with a grin of his own “I gotta run, sorry darling” with that, he disappeared into the bathroom.

“Fucking hell” you groaned loudly and flopped back on the bed with a sigh.

You were already frustrated. And one might even say worked up to a certain degree. Now, how the fuck does one deal with that?

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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kittenofdoomage · 4 years ago

Text

Traps

@badthingshappenbingo Prompt: Compelling Voice

Fandom: Supernatural

Ao3 Link: Traps On Ao3

Rating: Mature

Summary: She’s on Michael’s trail to get Dean back (spoilers for S14)

Characters/Pairing: Michael!Dean, Dean Winchester x reader

Word Count: 2344

Warnings: angst, angst, angst, mind control, character death. This really is angsty, guys.

She’s too late again. The small cabin - more of a shack really - is empty except for the corpse on the floor, his burned and hollowed out gaze fixed on the ceiling. Michael’s gone, Dean with him, and she’s only following a trail of bodies.

With a weary sigh, she sinks down into the armchair by the door, sliding her hands along the upholstery to clutch the arms tightly. Her phone beeps, so she pulls it out, finding another hit, Singapore this time. There’s no pattern to his movements, except that there’s a body or sometimes bodies, wherever he goes.

Sam’s left voicemails again, begging her to come home. It feels like forever since she’s seen him, but it’s only actually been three weeks. A little more since she’s last laid eyes on Dean, stumbling through the portal from the apocalypse world. She promised Sam she’d go home but she can’t, not until she has him back.

She doesn’t bother telling anyone about the body in the shack, putting her foot to the floor of her battered Honda and gunning it away. Within hours, she’s got another possible sighting, and she’s turning East, still hoping she can get back the only man she’s ever really loved.

Sam calls. She ignores it. Pulls into a motel about sixty miles from where she needs to be because her eyes are closing on her and she can’t try and pretend she doesn’t need to sleep anymore. She manages four hours, still too much, and she’s back on the road, gas pedal pressed down, not even the radio for background noise.

There’s a good chance any song she hears is gonna remind her of Dean, and she’s not sure she’s strong enough to not cry.

The sun’s coming up as she pulls into Bridge Falls, over the steel construct that passes the waterfalls that gave the town their name. It’s picturesque, small-town America, and she hasn’t got a clue what Michael would want here.

A few hours of driving around leave her with nothing but an empty gas tank. She finds a motel, books a room, and tries to contact the witch who’s been tracking Michael for her. He doesn’t answer, and she’s left alone in the quiet, unsure what to do next.

The bedside lamp flickers and she hears wings before she sees him; her breath catches in her throat and she grips the edge of the bed she’s sitting on, staring at him in disbelief.

“You’ve been looking for me,” Michael drawls, inspecting his fingernails as he casually leans against the divider by the door. “Why?”

“You know why,” she rasps back, reaching for the pistol in the back of her pants.

Michael’s not dumb enough for that. She’s surrounded by grace in the next minute, suffocated by it, and the archangel steps towards her, finally looking right at her. Those green eyes she’s so familiar with hold nothing but contempt and amusement, glowing blue as he exerts his power to get into her head.

He’s watching her memories of Dean, right down to the explicit stuff, making her watch too, and there’s curiosity now when he looks at her. “What do you want?” he asks in a low growl.

His question is an order that burrows into her skull and forces an answer from her lips. “D-Dean,” she chokes out, and Michael pulls her to her feet with the squeeze of his hand around thin air.

“And what makes you think I’ll give him back to you?” he murmurs, inches away from her now. He doesn’t even smell like Dean - he smells like burned ozone and embers, like destruction on her tongue. “What makes you think,” Michael continues, lifting his chin, looking at her like she’s a bug that needs to be squashed, “he’s even still alive?”

She doesn’t. But she’s never stopped believing in Dean. She’s seen the things he and Sam have done, the things they’ve defied, and she refuses to believe that this is how it ends for him. Tears are clinging to her lashes as she fights Michael’s hold, staring him dead in the eye.

“I have faith,” she spits bitterly.

Surprisingly, he laughs, and it’s a foreign, stiff sound from Dean’s lips, almost as if the archangel hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. He moves with a mechanical smoothness that belonged to Dean first, turning his back on her but keeping her in his celestial grip.

“Your witch is dead,” he comments; she thinks she might have known that already. “I thought it was Sam at first, he’s usually the one who comes running after Dean, right?”

When she doesn’t say anything, he glances at her, his lips quirking into a smile.

“Answer me,” he commands, and the order is too powerful to resist.

“Yes,” she squeaks.

“Imagine my surprise when it’s you,” he continues, tilting his head as he finds her duffel bag on the floor. “The girlfriend.” He spits it like it’s a bad word, and she’s helpless to do anything but watch as he rifles through her belongings, finding her wallet and the stupid photo booth picture of her and Dean she’s kept tucked in there for twenty years.

Can Dean hear her? See her? Is he even aware?

“He’s not,” Michael informs her and she grinds her teeth together, willing him out of her head. He finds that funny, chuckling as he tucks the photo into his pocket. “I should send a message,” he whispers, drifting back towards her. “A way to tell Winchester junior that he’s not going to get anywhere,” his hands lifts and he drags his thumb over her bottom lip, “by following me.”

The pinning warmth of his grace recedes. He knows she’s not strong enough to fight him now, he’s seen every corner of her mind. She doesn’t move when he releases her, remaining on the spot, his fingers curled around her jaw now.

“I could snap your neck right now,” he hums, tracing the line of her cheek with one long finger. “Let Sam know where to find your corpse.”

His hand drops to her chest, sliding against the exposed skin where her stolen flannel is hanging open. It’s warm against her collarbone, and so much like Dean that she feels herself weakening, ready to beg for his life.

“I could keep you,” Michael continues. He’s pressing under her shirt now, his hand is almost right over her heart. “You’d do whatever is necessary to get Dean out of this alive, wouldn’t you?” There’s a lie on the tip of her tongue but she doesn’t let it fall, shaking as his fingers tuck underneath the strap of her bra. “I can see why he enjoys you,” he purrs. “You’re warm and soft.” He’s closer now, his nose pressed to her cheek as he inhales deeply. “He likes the way you smell.”

Please stop. Please stop. She can’t bring herself to voice her plea. If he’s going to kill her, she wants him to get it over with.

“I don’t think I’ll kill you,” he chuckles.

His hand gets warmer, and it doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel good. It’s starting to burn, and she whimpers, trying to pull away.

“Stay still,” he orders, and she can’t help but obey.

The burning gets worse, like it’s reaching into her chest but worse, and she can feel memories slipping from her grasp, stolen away. Each little piece is hacked at, gnawed, burned out of her, and when Micheal finally pulls away, there’s a blank stare on her face.

He’s left a handprint that she’ll forget about in the morning.

“You’re going to sleep now,” he murmurs, the power of his voice just as strong even though he’s stepped away. She blinks three times, and the room is empty, and she doesn’t remember why she was even there in the first place. For a few seconds, she looks around, before a yawn splits her face, so she lies down, drifting off fully-clothed.

When she wakes, it’s daybreak. She packs her bag and checks out, trying to remember why she was even in Bridge Falls. There’s no hunt here, not even a whiff of demonic possession, so she’s back on the road by lunch, pulling into the next store she sees to buy a replacement cellphone. It’s easy to reload the numbers onto it, and almost instantly, she’s barraged by messages.

<<It’s Sam, can you please call me?>>

<<Sam again, just getting worried, it’s been three weeks, can you please call?>>

<<Y/N, please ->>

There’s text messages too, referring to someone called Dean, but she doesn’t know any Sam Winchesters or any Deans. As she’s mulling it over, her phone rings, and she answers, hearing a male voice on the other end.

“Thank god,” he sighs. “I was starting to think you were dead.”

“Who is this?” she demands, frowning at the familiarity in his tone.

He’s obviously surprised by her reaction as he stutters out his name. “It’s Sam, Y/N. Sam Winchester.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong number, dude,” she scoffs and hangs up. He rings twice more, she doesn’t answer and blocks the number.

By nightfall, she’s picked up a case in Lousiana. The odd phone calls have stopped and though it puzzles her, for some reason she doesn’t dwell on it. People are dying, and she’s got a job to do.

Two weeks later, she’s on the trail of a ghoul pack in Minnesota, and she’s stopped for some supplies at a local Walmart. She’s standing in the snack aisle, debating the merits of Cheetos vs Doritos when someone calls her, and at first, she thinks it’s her imagination. It’s repeated, closer, so she turns, raising an eyebrow at the slightly breathless and absolutely gorgeous man standing in front of her.

In the next second, he’s got her arms around her, and she reacts the only way she knows how; she flips him and puts him on his ass, swiftly pulling her gun free from her pants and jamming the muzzle into his chest.

“Who the hell are you?” she demands, and the guy splutters, staring up at her in shock with his hands by his face in surrender.

“Calm down, Y/N!” he stutters out. She narrows her eyes and jabs the gun in harder.

“How do you know my name?”

He seems confused, tilting his head, squinting at her like he needs to double-check what he’s seeing. It’s too familiar, it hurts her head - she pulls away, putting the width of the aisle between them. A security guard appears, giving her a quizzical look. “We all good here?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she snaps back, and he doesn’t seem to particularly care too much, wandering back off to his station.

The guy hasn’t moved from the floor, though he’s lifted himself up onto one elbow, and he’s still staring at her.

“You know me?” she grunts out, retrieving her basket of purchases as he gets to his feet, brushing himself down. His shock seems to have worn off but he’s still giving her a look that makes her feel like he knows her, intimately. The throb in her head becomes a burst of pain, and she hisses, pressing the heel of her palm to the middle of her forehead.

“Hey, you okay?” the man asks, concern in his voice, one hand touching her shoulder.

Someone’s laughing at her, a deep, throaty chuckle, but there’s no one there except her and the guy.

“You know me,” she whispers, blinking at him, and this time it’s a statement, to which he nods, visibly swallowing.

“Let’s get you some air,” he murmurs; she stops him with a hand to his chest.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

He smiles, and it’s a fucking gorgeous smile, reaching right to his eyes. “Dean,” he replies.

There’s a thousand images associated with that name, and it’s too much. He’s got her as far as the salsa aisle, and she’s flagging, the pain in her head like a flood, freezing every muscle, constricting her chest. Dean catches her when she falls, cradling her like he would a lover.

Which is exactly what she was, before Michael stripped away two decades of friendship and their final attempt at something real. He’s given it back to her now, but she’s not gonna be able to do anything. It’s a punishment, for not letting him go.

Dean’s begging, crying her name now - there’s a crowd gathering, none of them willing to approach - and she can feel tears in the corners of her eyes. How the hell could she forget him? Dean’s been the center of her universe for so long, she should have known something was wrong.

He’s crying. This punishment wasn’t just for her. The first thing Dean would do is look for her, and Michael’s just reminding him that he’s never going to be free.

She can’t even get the words out for the pain.

She wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Her chest slows and stops, and Dean cries harder, cupping her cheek as his tears mingle with hers. Someone’s called an ambulance, they’re on their way, he hears it but he doesn’t really hear anything. He tells her he loves her because it might bring her back, he’s managed bigger miracles before, except her skin’s getting cold already and her eyes don’t see anything.

Sam’s there by the time they’re pronouncing time of death, and Dean’s got one of those stupid foil blankets around his shoulders. The EMT tells him it’s shock, and he’s very sorry for his loss; Dean’s quiet, staring at the covered lump of a body where Y/N used to be.

He doesn’t drive home. He lets Sam take care of him. Stays in his room and looks at the picture he found in the pocket of the tux Michael had been wearing. The photo of them, so long ago, when their friendship was the only thing that got him through. Now he feels like he’s got nothing.

Nothing except revenge.

#supernatural #bad things happen bingo #bingo entry #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #michael!dean #apocalypse world michael #revenge #character death #angst #memory loss #mind control #pg-13 #but angsty #fanfic #fanfiction #dean winchester

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uwuwriting · 5 years ago

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Mirio w/soulmate au Dreamscape

Request: Hiya~! I was wondering if you could bless me with a 🍀 prompt staring my boy Mirio? 👉👈 - @drapetomaniac

I’m so so sorry or the delay but my computer decided to combust and leave me alone on this cold world. Thankfully it was fixed quickly and we back on track. Coming string with my boy Mirio here and I’m excited to say the least. I’ll be posting twice today or at least that’s the plan, hope it goes smoothly. Thank you all so so so much for 400 followers I cannot believe you guys like what I write and actually follow me so thank you again. Love yaaa. 💖💖💖

warnings: some angst if you squint, minor spoilers

Soulmates are a funny thing. Not just the idea of a singular individual being your other destined half but also the process until you find them. The signs are interesting to say the least. There are a dozen ways to ‘see’ your soulmate and you were one of the lucky few that had an easier sign.

Dreams a re a funny thing. A reality that your mind creates to keep you entertained while you sleep building whole worlds and tearing your own reality apart all the while keeping you immersed. Dreams were always an interesting concept to you and when he started appearing in them things become all the more exciting.

In truth you couldn’t truly see his face, just some physical characteristics. His height that towered over you, his broad shoulders that seemed to become a wall protecting you from your own imagination, his hair that were a literal sunflower and his light. The light he was always accompanied with in your dreams. His was the definition of a star and you were almost certain that he could outshine the sun himself. He was beyond endearing.

Your dreams of him began in middle school. You didn’t know who he was and you didn’t have any idea how you could find out. So you left his identity in the hands of your dreams, of your destiny knowing that when the right time came you would know. It had happened before. Soulmates that could see each other in their dreams finally meeting and feeling one another. They didn’t have to know who the other was. They simply knew. And that’s were your hopes lay.

Life went on smoothly for the next five years, nothing special happening and no unique feeling while meeting new people. In all honesty you were fine with that, your positive nature unwavering. You were in your last year of high school now, getting ready to enter adulthood and close this chapter of your life. University was your next stop and you couldn’t be happier. Becoming a doctor was your longtime dream after realizing that hero work was not in your genes. Everything was so bright, so positive and then they were not.

He was different. The light that surrounded him had dimmed leaving him in the shadow of his former self. His posture had changed, shoulders caving into himself and head hang low not looking your way anymore. You tried reaching him but you knew better. You couldn’t get any closer, your mind wouldn’t let you. A low beeping noise could be barely heard and you immediately knew what it was. Heart monitor. Life support. You felt the shudder as he crumpled to his knees, loud sobs erupting from his chest. Was he hurt? Was he dying? Why, why couldn’t get any closer? And then the beeping stopped. The breath caught in your throat and you were steadying yourself for the emptiness that would follow his departure. But it never came. He continued to sob, caving into himself. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Consciousness made her way into your mind and you could feel yourself waking up. No no no no you couldn’t leave him. He needed you. He was falling apart. You have to be here next to him. With a final attempted you screamed as loud as you could and surprisingly he looked up. He looked at you and-

You woke up with a start, chest heaving and breath frantic. Something happened. Something happened to him and he was in danger. But what danger? Was he alright now? Was he still fighting for his life? Did he really hear you? So many question and yet so little answers. Alas you could only hope to meet him soon. However, you couldn’t shake the feeling of shame on your part. You had left him. You had left him alone to suffer and you would go back to your ordinary life. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair

The U.A festival was by far the most anticipated event for the U.A students. Having your best friend in the support class and you declining attending for the previous two years, you decided to attend this time around. It would be her last year at the school after all and you wanted her to be happy. That’s how you found yourself in the changing room for the beauty pageant helping a certain Nejire Hado do her make up. The girl was a handful. From her happy-go-lucky character to her constant shift of attention she was kind of a challenge to deal with. But you liked her. She was basically an angel.

Nejire was ready at last and she was hugging you as thanks bashing over how cute you are and what a shame it was that you couldn’t participate in the pageant yourself, when a little girl walked in. Her light grey-blue hair cascaded like a waterfall down her back and her big red eyes scanned the room finally falling on you and Nejire.

“Nejire, the strap of my dress is loose and Mirio can’t do it right.” she pouted looking down at the strap of the dress falling from her shoulder. As if on queue the speakers announced that the pageant was beginning.

“I’m sorry Eri but i have to go. Oh, how about Y/N fixed it she was a huge help to me!!” and with that she was off and you were left alone with the little girl, Eri. Walking to her you dropped to you knees and gently grabbed the strap tying it with a small knot. Eri was looking at your face, scanning your features and grabbing a strand of stray hairs, tucking them behind your ear.

“So you can see.” she whispered and you gave her a small smile, patting her shoulder signaling that she was ready but staying at her level looking her in the eye.

“I’m Y/N and it’s nice to meet you Eri.” she smiled at you before looking back at the door she came through. “Who was with you? We can go find them and you can enjoy the festival.”

“I’m with Mirio, he was talking with Izuku when my strap got loose and I heard Nejire talking.” she looked down at her hands. “But I don’t know where he is now.”

“What does he look like? I can help you find him.” you smiled at her and she kinda shied away from you but started her description nonetheless.

“He’s really tall and he has big arms and he gives the best hugs and his hair are yellow.” she almost beamed at you as she talked but she didn’t grace you with a smile. “You can’t really miss him and I’ll see him and tell you. Come on.” she grabbed your arm and almost dragged you out the door.

It didn’t take long to find him, he was as tall as a tree after all. Eri’s gasp when she saw him was the cutest thing you had ever heard but then you were yanked towards his direction by the small girl. She let go of your hand and jumped in the arms of the boy, Mirio, giving small apologies for running off. That’s when you truly saw him.

The light that surrounded him was the exact same as the one you would see in your dreams. The feeling you have been waiting for was there and it was hitting you across the head over and over the more you looked at him. You could only imagine your expression but you could use one word for it. Shock.

Mirio on the other and was frozen in place, Eri still in his arms. That aura. The one he has been feeling for so long every time he saw her in his dreams. The one that surrounded the person that pulled him out of his despair when he was dealing with the loss of his quirk and Sir’s death. The aura of his soulmate. He could only let out a small laugh before he stumbled over his own words trying to say something to the literal goddess that was standing in front of him. You giggled at his nervousness and he swore he hadn’t heard a more angelic sound in his life.

“I/m Y/N L/N.”

“And I’m your soulmate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic , @brattyquirks

#mirio togata #mha mirio #mirio imagine #mirio x reader #mirio x you #mirio #bnha #special event #soulmate au

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saeyoungs-sunflower · 4 years ago

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As Sweet As It Is Bitter (Jumin Han)

I personally feel that this part of Jumin’s story doesn’t get talked about enough. So I wanted to give my interpretation of it.

Warnings / Notes:

Spoilers for the Secret Endings

Alcohol abuse, grief, general sad times. Big ol’ bag of angst here.

Brief mentions of violence/injury.

This isn’t intended to be Jumin x V, but if that’s how you wanna read it then go for it. It’s down to your interpretation/what floats your boat.

Playlist:

Before You Go - Lewis Capaldi

Say Something - A Great Big World

Saturn - Sleeping at Last

Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon & Garfunkel

Artwork also helped inspire me when writing this, especially art by the absolutely incredible @sikuzxxx . They are ridiculously talented and I encourage you to check out their art if you haven’t already. Here are the pieces that inspired me most: 1 / 2 / 3 /

It was straightforward, really.

Unlock door. Enter. Shut door. Hang up coat. Take off shoes.

It was routine, the same as it was yesterday and the same as it will be tomorrow. Yet, it couldn’t feel more wrong. Something as simple as unlocking a door became foreign to him when a steady hand was replaced with clumsy fingers, and a quiet mind became swarmed with static.

Jumin loosened his tie and undid the top button of his black shirt. He stepped into the centre of his penthouse, a bouquet of chrysanthemums under one arm and his head reeling. He stood motionless, staring out into the city through the large glass panels. He couldn’t understand.

He couldn’t understand how it was that, despite everything they had, this was the way it ended. After every family dinner, every walk home from school together, every bottle of wine shared, this was the way God had planned their friendship to come to a close. Before, he would have guessed that it would end in a hospital, with silver hair and cracked skin, fond memories and shared joy in abundance; but instead it ended with bullets and screams and whatever it is that nightmares are born of. It was no place for the end.

Jumin surveyed the room, a dark and hollow space only visible by the illumination of nearby buildings. He was completely and utterly alone.

Therefore, for the first time in his twenty-seven years of life, Jumin Han let himself break.

He took out a bottle of red wine, pouring himself a generous glass. And then another, and then another, until he gave up on the glass all together, instead opting for strangling the neck of the bottle as he emptied it of its poison. With every drop that passed his lips, the scene that played in his head grew more vivid as reality began to blur.

The scene started with him sprinting through the building, guards on either side of him as they rounded the corner, stopping in their tracks when they spotted the intimidating doors that lay ahead. He had made one step towards them when he heard the gunshot, and then did not hesitate to charge towards the doors, bursting through.

He can see his body now, limp and resting in a pool of rich red. He could literally see the life flowing out of V with every passing second as he merely looked on, utterly helpless. He couldn’t help, he was too late.

He didn’t say goodbye.

With a frustrated grunt Jumin stumbled towards the bedroom but stopped himself halfway, his eyes landing on the bunch of flowers that he had brought back from the venue, already starting the wither and the petals starting to fall. That was the first crack.

It started with a single drop gliding down his cheek, that rested on the tip of his chin before falling onto his dark tie. He impatiently wiped his face, standing tall and looking straight ahead, but it all in vain. Without warning nor control, every tear that had remained unshed had surfaced and poured.

He should just go to bed. Leave this day behind him. He had his closure now, it was time to move on and to be the man he was before all this chaos. To be Jumin Han again.

Then why did he remain where he stood?

Jumin dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets hard enough to see stars as his knees buckled beneath him, his frame crumbling to the floor. He was renowned for his stoicism, practicality, and his unwavering ability to keep whatever pain that threatened to bite to only get as far as barking at his door. But tonight, he let himself entertain the torturous idea of the hypothetical, the ‘could have’s and the ‘should have’s that may have saved the life of the only man, the only human being who he wanted to be by his side until his last breath. The one who stayed with no conditions attached, who loved Jumin truly and effortlessly. A companionship, a bond like no other; Jumin and Jihyun. The rich kids. As similar as night and day, but just as perfectly matched. Friends, brothers.

What if he had tried calling him an extra time? What if he had gotten into his car and hunted him down himself? What if he called the helicopter five minutes earlier? Was that all it took? Could he have done it?

But he still couldn’t understand. His door had always been open, his light always left on, waiting for V to come to him. To ask for his help, to tell him where he’s been hiding away, and why he thought that the darkness was more forgiving when walked through alone.

He wanted to scream, not realising that he already was until his voice broke and died out.

He just simply couldn’t understand how V didn’t realise his own worth. How he didn’t know the extent to which the world needed his kindness, his warmth. How he could let his life be thrown away like that, a life as rare and giving as his was.

Maybe it wasn’t that Jumin couldn’t understand, perhaps he just wouldn’t. If this was the bliss of ignorance, then what kind of hellish agony did knowledge feel like?

Jumin’s hands trembled as he grasped the empty wine bottle so fiercely that his knuckles turned white, contrasting the red of his blood-shot eyes. His impulses took over as he launched the bottle at the wall, droplets of red wine scattering across the cream walls as shards of glass showered around him.

He rested his forehead against the icy floor and slammed his fist against it, hardly registering the sharp pain of glass piercing his flesh. He intertwined his fingers whilst he desperately prayed. Not to God, but to whom he had lost.

Please, V, not yet. Don’t let go yet. Tell me it’s not true.

We were going to grow old together. You were going to be my best man, and I yours. What about all the laughs, smiles, memories, that now we’ll never have? We were meant to have longer than this. I’m begging you, Jihyun. You always believed in magic, please believe in it one last time. Come back.

For the love of God, don’t leave me here alone.

Minutes, maybe hours past in that position, until his tears ran dry and his voice grew rough. Jumin tried to move, but the dizzying effect of sitting up meant it took him a moment to become steady before he dragged himself to the wall. He rested his back against it, elbows on his bent knees and his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Grief was a funny little thing. It gnawed at you from the inside, feeding on everything that had any flavour of regret or devastation. But, in a twisted sort of way, it was such a beautiful thing to love so deeply that the wound was just as deeply felt. Unfortunately, the love Jumin felt during his grief also ate away at him, since it was left abandoned with no place to go when the one person it would run to was gone.

Perhaps God saw how tired and wounded his friend was and showed mercy on him by letting him rest, by bringing him home. In that case, was Jumin not home? Did Jihyun not have a home on earth at all? What a tragic life, if the only home you have to go back to at the end of the day is Heaven. But at least Jihyun had peace now, even if that was something that Jumin couldn’t provide.

Jumin used these ideas in an attempt to convince himself that grief was bittersweet. He only wished that the taste which lingered on his tongue was as sweet as it was bitter.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he did recall the flashing images of Jihyun’s lifeless and icy body as it laid frozen before everything went black, and he slowly began to slip into the realm of a dream.

A warm light pierced through the darkness, revealing a tall figure as they made their way towards Jumin, and his eyes pricked when he identified the burst of mint-coloured hair.

Jihyun embraced Jumin and his tears resurfaced, streaming down his face before floating away into the oblivion. Jihyun pulled back, looking into the eyes of his oldest friend, his voice soft as he spoke.

“You’re okay, Jumin. You’re not as alone as you’ve tricked yourself into believing you are, alright? I’m never too far away, but you’ve also got to take a look around you. Stop being afraid now. Stop letting your emotions run just below the surface. If you open up your heart, you aren’t going to bleed out; you’re going to set yourself free.”

Jumin’s lips curled into a faint smile, “Always so cheesy.”

“That’s me,” Jihyun chuckled. “Be brave. For me.”

“If it’s for you, I’d do anything.”

“Then live. Please, for Christ’s sake, Jumin. Just live.”

“…Alright. But,“ he had to ask, he had to know, “Jihyun, what could I have done-“

But Jihyun faded away before Jumin had a chance to finish, before he had time to ask what could have saved him, and to say everything that he didn’t get to say the day he left. To say thank you for everything he taught him, to ask where it went wrong; to say goodbye. But he disappeared, just like he did before. Without warning, without explanation. As if he was never there at all.

The light of the morning sun blinded Jumin when he pried his eyes open the next day, a pounding in his head and every movement sending a wave of nausea through him. He found himself lying in fragments of glass, the ringing in his ear returning as he sat up straight. He checked the time.

8:17am. He would usually be at work by this time-

His thought was interrupted by an incoming call, every ring feeling like a strike against the head. Jumin squinted as he read the contact name before answering.

“Assistant Kang.”

“Mr. Han, is everything alright? You are scheduled to have a meeting in less than an hour, would you like me to cancel it?”

“No need, just push it forward by an hour. I’ll be there soon,” Jumin croaked, his voice coarse and weak.

“…Mr. Han, if I dare to make a suggestion, I think you should rest today. You must have had a rough-“

“Jaehee.”

The woman on the other side was caught off-guard, which was evident by the pause before her response, “Y-yes?”

“Move the meeting,” he attempted to say sternly, but it came out with a tinge of desperation, “Please.”

“…Okay, sir. I will see you soon.”

“Yes, see you soon.”

Jumin hung up, prying himself off the floor when his gaze once again fell on the bunch of white flowers, some now stained with red wine. He reached for the only pristine one, extracting the flower and moving towards his desk, taking out two pieces of parchment paper and the heaviest hardback he could find on the bookshelf. With careful hands, he placed the flower in the middle of the sheets of paper, before slipping them between the pages of the book. Lastly, he rested a paper weight on top and stepped back. Jumin never used to be overly sentimental, but he had experienced a lot of firsts recently, so what was one more?

He showered, he ate, he dressed himself. He fed Elizabeth the Third and brushed his teeth. There was a knock at the door as he was fixing his tie in the mirror, and he told them to enter as he smoothed down his jacket.

“The car is ready when you are, sir,” said Driver Kim.

“Thank you. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Yes, sir.”

When he heard the door click shut, Jumin peered out the windows, looking out into the sky where the clouds gathered and the sun shone. He smiled. An unconvincing one, but a smile nonetheless.

It was a pleasure, old friend. Rest well now. I will see you again, but not soon. I have some things to do before I join you.

One day he would be able to start afresh. One day he could fulfil Jihyun’s wish. To seek help, to open up his heart, to set himself free of his threads. To live.

But today was not that day. Today he had to be the Jumin Han that everyone knew. Executive Director, heir of C&R International. Leader of the RFA.

It was routine, the same as yesterday and the same as it will be tomorrow.

Put on shoes. Shrug on coat. Open door. Exit. Lock door.

And yet, it couldn’t feel more wrong.

He let his mind wander on the drive to the office as he watched out the car window, letting the sun’s rays caress his face. It was a comfort, a gentle and constant reminder that his friend was, indeed, never too far away.

I miss you, and I won’t forget you, but I’ll let you go now. In time, I’ll do what you’ve asked of me. Be patient, have faith.

I will live. For you.

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exquisitley-obsessed · 5 years ago

Text

I’m Right Here (part 1?)

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Arthur’s torn up over Mary, and his old friend and fellow gang member y/n drags his pitiful ass on a hunting trip; little do they know, they’re the ones about to be hunted.

Word Count: 3588

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader (some Arthur and Mary angst)

Warnings: Hunting, guns, etc.

A/N: Currently playing RDR2 so please no spoilers <3 Literally took five minutes for me to fall in love with this damn fool and so felt like I needed to write something angsty for him. There’ll probably be a part two to this. (Also this made me seriously realise I cannot spell ‘Arthur’ for the life of me)

REQUESTS OPEN <3

MASTERLIST

“Well he aint in a good mood.”

Abigail was standing near her tent blowing gently on her boiling coffee as she watched Arthur swing into camp, readily jumping off his horse and loosely throwing the reigns towards the hitching post.

“No, he don’t,” Y/n answered. She was sitting with Jack in her lap, watching as Arthur made his way to his tent, cursing venomously under his breath. “I overheard Dutch mention something about Mary being in Valentine - that she wanted to see him.” Y/n shared the gossip with her long-time best friend and fellow gang member.

“Really?” Abigail’s head snapped to y/n as she busied herself with Jack’s excited giggling and blubbering. “She’s got some nerve.”

“Ha!” Y/n chuckled to herself as she bounced Jack about, “You can say that again.”

“It aint a secret that none of us like her,”

“Yeah, someone that even Hosea isn’t a fan of…now that’s an accomplishment.”

“He knows how to pick ‘em,”

“Sure does,” y/n sighed, throwing a glance at Morgan. Watching Arthur and Mary run back and forth to one another was like watching a dog chase its tail – futile, funny and somewhat depressing. With there being such a tight knit in the Van Der Linde gang, Mary had always felt alien and other – like she was a piece that didn’t quite fit in a rather strange and elaborate puzzle. Y/n’s bitterness towards the woman had only grown as she watched Arthur yo-yo between complete euphoria one night to a mild mental break the next; ultimately, it hurt watching him day in and day out tie himself to the train tracks and look with woozy, loving eyes at the incoming train.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Abigail attempted to ask inconspicuously, dipping her nose into her mug as she took a swig. Y/n eyed her, Abigail had made it somewhat obviously clear she believed there to be something more between Arthur and y/n; y/n couldn’t figure out if she was amused or conflicted.

“Not since before this Blackwater mess…not a proper conversation like we used to have.” Y/n’s attention now back on the bubbling child pulling at her braid.

“Not had the chance?”

“Well, no.” She didn’t look at Abigail, “Everything blew up and…Dutch aint been letting me out on any of missions recently so I can’t talk to him then. Not with how badly things went for me in Blackwater.” Y/n was talking about her bandaged right arm, still pink and puckering from that night. When the pandemonium erupted on the waters, y/n found herself caught in a minor explosion when some TNT barrels were caught in the crossfire. The result was a degree of burns lashed across most of her right arm. Dutch, seeing her like a daughter, reacted in a rather extreme and protective manner – extreme by y/n’s standards at least.

“It’s a goddamn joke you know, I have to prove myself to be twice as better just to be even considered to go on missions. They all treat me like I’m gone break or something – I been shooting longer than most of them too.” Abigail nodded along hazily; the gang was somewhat used to y/n’s frequent outbursts and rants, having never been one much for holding her tongue. However, they couldn’t blame here; it was just a result of her start in life.

“Now’s a good time y/n - go take him hunting or something,” Abigail was still peering at Arthur over her mug.

“Hunting?”

“Yeah, you can get some fresh air, help him clear his head and also bring back something Pearson could turn edible.”

“Dutch aint letting me leave camp right now-”

“Oh, come on! You know he’d let you go if Arthur was with you”

“Abi-”

“Don’t fight me on this y/n. He’s hurting, it’s obvious, you’re the only one he’s ever…you know…” Y/n raised a brow at Abigail who simply looked away; she couldn’t figure out what she hated more, the assumptions or the fact that y/n’s heart twinged slightly at the thought of going hunting with Arthur, it being just like old times.

“Fine,” Y/n huffed scooping Jack up under the arm, “Here’s your son back.” Jack’s chubby little fingers reached out for his momma as his aunt handed him over, “But I’m doing this for you.”

“And Arthur,”

“And Arthur.” Letting out a sigh, y/n made her way over to the closed flaps of Arthur’s tent, picking up her hunting jacket along the way. Pausing, she took a breath, before rapping her knuckles across the wooden frame of his camp. “Arthur it’s me.” A pause, a small rustle from within and then he was there, looking down at y/n with a raised brow.

“Miss y/n,” He tried out the words in his mouth, as if her name was a question in itself, “What you doing here?”

“Oh, so I can’t just come and see Mr Morgan whenever I please…is there a queue I need to join?” She feigned looking around.

“Oh, don’t give me that – you know you aint come knocking on my tent for weeks now.”

“Well Arthur, I don’t know if you remember but there was that whole business of Blackwater that somewhat got in the way of our nightly strolls.” Arthur pulled back a little, his brows knitting as he frowned down at her.

“What’s going on y/n? What you want?”

“You really think every time I come see you I want something…I mean, actually now that you say-”

“Y/n-”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, Morgan! Come on,” She smirked up at him, he shook and lowered his head, his russet hat covering his face leaving only his strong set jaw and bristly beard visible in the candlelight. A grin had melted into his cheeks and y/n couldn’t help but feel a soft flutter in her gut, he was heartbroken over Mary and yet she could still make him to smile. “I was actually letting you know that I’m going hunting, I thought you might wanna join y’know, ride out like old times,”

“Dutch letting you go?” He asked, leaning against the wagon. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh please; Dutch this, Dutch that. Can’t a girl just live?”

“I don’t know y/n, you banged yourself up real good at Blackwater if I remember correctly,” He nodded at her mummified arm.

“I’m fine, besides, it aint my shooting arm,”

“Y/n…” He sighed.

“Come on…fine. If I can convince Dutch to let me go, will you join me? We’ll take the camp and really do it like old times, stay out all night and catch birds as the sun rises.” Arthur gave her a look as if he was on the fence, but that usually already meant he was coming. Y/n didn’t even wait for a response, just smiled real wide and started walking backwards toward Dutch, “Saddle up and meet me by the horses in 10.” Arthur just shook his head and batted her away, disappearing back inside.

Turning around, y/n tiptoed her way past Dutch’s own quarters, peeking in slightly she caught the sight of him in deep discussion with Hosea. Well, there’s no point in disturbing what seems like such an important conversation. Instead, y/n chose to make her way back to Abigail where she could quickly grab a few things before setting off.

“So, you going then?” Abigail grinned up at her, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,”

“Oh good,” Abigail clapped her hands together. Y/n simply rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You tell Dutch?”

“Um, not quite,”

“What do you mean?” Abigail raised a brow, always the ever-worried mother.

“Come on Abigail, you know Dutch won’t let me out, especially not for a whole night.”

“Course he will, you’re with Arthur,”

“No Abi, I don’t think he will,” Y/n paused her packing and met Abigail’s stare.

“What do you mean?” Her tone was tense.

“Look, Dutch has been treating me real weird since Blackwater, he won’t let me out of his sight. He won’t even let me do watch, no, I stay here in camp where he can see me and do chores. Which would be fine, but we all know that I’m much better out there, in the big wide world.” Y/n returned to packing, “He’s just got spooked from Blackwater a lil and you know how he sees me, he raised me and all.”

“So…what’s your plan?”

“Well…I guess I don’t have one.” Abigail let out a frustrated huff, “Look, don’t be mad! It aint your fault and I can handle Dutch when I get back. I thought tonight I’d focus on Arthur, wasn’t that your plan, come on now Abi.” Abigail simply responded with one of her infamous motherly glares, hands on hips and everything.

“Okay, but it’s getting dark so you best head off now before you loose your way, and y/n…” Bag now packed, y/n was half way out of the tent when she stopped, “Be careful…”

Y/n grinned back.

“Always am.”

***

“So, where you wanna go?”

Arthur and y/n had ridden their way out into the fields, far away from any signs of life or civilisation. Free at last. “Since you’re in such a sour mood I’ll let you choose.” Arthur sent her a glare.

“You know, you talking about how sour my mood is…aint making it any less sour.”

“Why are you in a sour mood anyways?” Y/n peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. Their horses had slowed into a rhythmic trot as the flowers and fields passed them by.

“Mary.” It was a gruff, clipped response; but it was enough. Arthur never needed to elaborate on his problems with Mary, it was common knowledge amongst the gang. Hell, it was obvious from day one what was going to eventually happen between the two. “Here, let’s stop here.”

“I’m sorry to hear bout it,” Y/n pulled her horse to a steady stop as they strolled onto a circular ledge, looking out on a cliff drop and the rolling hills that followed, the greenery not stopping until it blurred into the horizon.

“Are you?” Arthur said after a moment, his eyes busy assessing the terrain.

“Arthur,” Y/n snapped to him as if he had hit her, “You know I do.” The two stared at each other, a standoff, then he seemed to soften a little.

“Yeah, yeah I know you do y/n don’t worry. Don’t know what got into me. She’s messing with my head is all.”

“You can say that again,” y/n turned back to her horse, unpacking all the bits and bobs. She began to get a fire going, the crackling flames warming her back as she moved to stand near the ledge, looking out at all the little people and all their little lives.

“Wait stay still a second,” Arthur called out to y/n who of course, didn’t.

“What you doing?” She questioned walking over to him as he fumbled about in his satchel.

“I said stay still woman…almost got it…here.” He pulled out a small, metal box with a look of triumph. “Now,” He instructed holding it up to his face, “Go back to where you were standing.”

“Okay,” Y/n agreed cautiously, walking backwards a few paces, “Here? Wait…you’re not taking a photo of me are you Arthur?”

“What?” He asked, looking up and shrugging his shoulders as if there were no problem.

“Oh Arthur, I don’t want no photos of me taken,”

“Why?”

“Because…” She trailed off. It had been so long since someone had offered to take a photo of her. When it happened, she had venomously refused, spitting out something about keeping her identity secret. But now, looking at Arthur’s innocent smile as he gestured toward the camera, all ideas of protesting against the photo seemed futile. “Oh, all right then, but if I look real bad promise me we’ll burn it on the fire.”

Arthur said nothing, simply smiled wide before holding the camera up to his face once more. Suddenly, she felt incredibly self-conscious of her appearance, her hair was lazily knotted in a braid to keep it away from her face, she was wearing her old work pants and one of John’s old shirts that he had grown out of. She wondered if he thought she was pretty, she wondered if that’s why he wanted a photo of her – she pushed those thoughts away and swallowed. A quick flash, mechanic clunk and it was over.

“Lemme see, lemme see!” Y/n bounded over to Arthur, reaching out for the camera but Arthur swept it out of her grasp holding it high above her head.

“Just wait woman! God…gotta let it develop first then you can see, and then burn it,”

“I was kidding Arthur! You want a photo of me so bad I’ll let you have one – but it’s the only one you getting so you better cherish it.”

“Oh, I will,” He sighed, turning back to the camp and the fire, “I will.” He muttered once more under his breath, his eyes glossy and happy as he carefully rested the camera near his bag.

“Come on, we best settle down,” Y/n sighed, her fingers resting near her gun. The two hunched down together near the edge of the cliff, their feet sloping down with the ground as they watched the last few hours of light spill across the landscape.

“Well if we’re going about this the old way,” Arthur grunted after a moment, before twisting round and grabbing a box from behind him, swinging it around y/n’s eyes widened as she realised what Arthur had snuck off camp.

“Uncle’s secret stash of whiskey,” Y/n stared wide eyed at the crate, “Arthur you didn’t!” She half gasped, half grinned.

“You said it would be just like old times,” He hazily smiled at her, pulling out a bottle and squeezing off the cap. He then looked around, conflicted, “Uh, I didn’t think to grab any cups.”

“Oh, it don’t matter Morgan,” Y/n grinned, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig straight from the lip, “If we’re really doing it like old times, it won’t matter.”

Arthur looked at y/n then, really looked at her. The time of his life when she wasn’t in it had always felt hazy, it had always appeared to him that she had simply just been there, like Hosea and Dutch, even John. Dutch had bundled her home after finding her on the street, she had tried and almost successfully robbed him as he headed back home. She was young, too young to have been living life like that and yet, weren’t they all. He remembered shooting lessons with her John and Dutch as Hosea dipped in and out with scattered pieces and parts of plans.

There had been a time when he was sweet on her. Really sweet on her. They were young, growing up in a wild world where it felt like anything could happen. He never told her, life just seemed to get in the way and, after a while, he just figured she wasn’t into him like that. Maybe there was a part of him that would always be sweet on her, like the way he could never seem to shake away Mary. No, that’s not right. Mary and y/n were different, always had been different and always would be. But then again, what did Arthur Morgan know about love, about women?

“I…have this theory,” She turned to him suddenly, shattering apart his worried thoughts and replacing them with a warm glow.

“Theory? What you doing getting all philosophical on me?” The corner of his eyes crinkled as he grinned back.

“I aint getting philosophical Arthur, it’s just an idea-”

“Okay, okay,” He held up his hands in defence, “What’s this big idea, hm?”

“So…with this Mary business…I think that all she done this past while is talk about how you aint ever gone change, and my theory is that…that aint fair,”

“How come?”

“Because her asking you to give up this life, is exactly like you asking her to give hers; and…I don’t think love should be like that.” The liquor was loosening her tongue, making her slosh a little with her words, “I don’t think you should have to change yourself for love.”

“But aint that the point?” Arthur pondered after a beat, “That love changes you, makes you a better man and what not.” Y/n’s nose crinkled.

“Sure but…there’s a difference between growing with someone compared to changing who you are just so you don’t give them a bad reputation when you walk down the street together,” Arthur reared back a little but ultimately understood there was no malice behind her words, it was just the ugly truth. “I feel like,” She continued, now on a roll, “Mary aint in love with you…or maybe she was at one point but now it’s…I don’t know, hell, the only time I ever met the woman she barely said two words to me.” A soft chuckle, “But…I feel like she’s in love with this version of you, in her head. There’s a reason everyone back at camp, especially the girls, don’t like her Arthur. It’s because she aint like us, she aint ever had to worry about when her next meal gone be or if she’ll get the privilege of sleeping in a bed that night or…”

Arthur’s eyes were steady on the sunset, watching as it swam down over the horizon, disappearing into an inky, spotted night. The sky was surprisingly dull for a sunset, no explosion of colours as the sun sunk lower, no ecstasy of oranges and pinks – just an ever-expanding dull grey hue.

“I don’t like saying it Arthur,” y/n was still going, “Because I know you love her and I know an ounce of love is more than any of us deserve – but please…stop hurting yourself over her, I can’t take it anymore.” Arthur turned his head slightly to the side, peeking at y/n; he wasn’t necessarily upset by what she was saying, just numb to it. I mean, if he didn’t have Mary, then what did he have?

Silence blanketed them as the sun and its warmth slipped over the edge of the world, leaving the cold to creep in from all sides; only battled by the spluttering warmth of the fire. Arthur looked at her, really looked at her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving her y/n.” A pause. He waited for her reaction.

“I know.” She did, and her heart ached for it.

***

The mood and pace picked up from then on. With the world at rest around them, being out in the open night with a crate of whiskey and a wheezing fire – it was enough to feel like they were the only ones who were truly alive. Perhaps, in that moment, they were. Old friends who knew each other better than they knew themselves. A conversation concocted with a mix of reminiscing of the past, laughing about the present, and theorising about the future.

Arthur told y/n that she was going to be married before she knew it. Y/n politely told Arthur that the only instance in which she would ever marry would be for money. Arthur laughed and commented on how it was money that was ruining his relationship, not building it.

They talked about Dutch, about how much they had grown from being scared kids with guns too big for their hands. And all of a sudden, Mary felt a million miles away - Mary didn’t even feel important anymore.

They drank themselves silly, forgetting about the whole point of their little getaway in the first place. Eventually, they curled up against the shrubbery, lying on their backs and looking up at the bottomless sky above them. Not even talking, just enjoying for a moment how the world was spinning underneath them.

***

When Arthur awoke the first thing he noticed was the dryness of his throat. Wincing, he coughed some of the dust out of his lungs as he sat up and then lay back down again, the weight of his head pulling him back.

“God damn.” He grunted – how much had he drank? Still, standing up he shook the dust off him, he knew he had gone through worse, an infamous night with Lenny ringing a bell. The sun was high in the sky meaning that he had slept through all, if not most, of the morning. Sighing he looked around for y/n. And looked again. Something wasn’t right.

She wasn’t there; not curled up next to him, not draped across the sleeping rolls, not near the horses – nowhere. She was gone. An ugly, familiar knot twisted its way into Arthur’s gut. Trying to douse the fire inside of him he calmed himself with the idea that she could have just gone for a walk or pulled through on the hunting after all – but her horse was still there.

“Oh no…no…no.” He choked standing up. He couldn’t lose her, not now. His fears climaxed, his whole world skidding to a stop as he noticed a note made from rich paper taped to the whiskey box.

Arthur Morgan,

You don’t seem to want to talk about Dutch. Maybe your friend will.

- P

Numb, he went completely numb. But that feeling didn’t compare to when he had eventually stumbled back into camp, the note limb by his side as looked up and saw an irate Dutch waiting for him, his eyes black.

“Where, the hell, is she Morgan?”

next part

#Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 1 #rdr2 #rdr #rdr imagine #rdr2 imagine #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan imagine #abigail marston #Dutch Van Der Linde #dutch

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punchdrunkdoc · 5 years ago

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The King: Eternal Monarch

What follows is a stream-of-consciousness, spoiler-filled bunch of thoughts and theories about TKEM, which I can’t stop obsessing over. I knew it was a mistake to start this show instead of waiting to binge it! It’s the first K-drama I’ve watched in ‘real time’ and the wait between episodes is KILLING ME!!

Overall, though, I’m really enjoying this show. It’s right up my alley (which is why I couldn’t wait to start watching it): magical realism, parallel worlds, time travel, a dashing King and a capable, no-nonsense heroine. The plot is really intriguing and there have been some great twists and genuinely heart-pounding sequences so far. It’s also GORGEOUS to look at and there’s a great streak of humour.

I admit I found the romance a bit lacking at the start. It felt a little rushed, to be honest. I could see why Gon would be instantly smitten with Tae-eul - she’s been in his head for 25 years and when he finally found her, she was smart, spunky and treated him in a refreshingly frank and ‘real’ way - so different from all the fawning adoration he was used to in Corea.

So the fact that it was Tae-eul who was the first to say ‘I love you’ was a little jarring and it seemed to come out of the blue. But I went back and binged just their scenes together for all 12 episodes, and I could see the connection better.

She comes to realise that fate has dropped this guy in her lap - this amazing, smart, funny, handsome, rich, cool guy - and she also has the sense that it can’t end well between them. So, at first she retreats from him; when she’s in Corea the first time, she keeps asking to see her ID badge - the pretence for her being there and the only thing stopping her from leaving. It’s clear that she’s trying to protect herself. She doesn’t want to get too close to this guy when there is no future. So she leaves without giving him a sense that she returns his feelings in any deep way.

But then she can’t get him out of her head, and has weeks to think about how she left things with him and how she might never see him again (he did go off to battle after all). When he finally returns, and she sees him just standing there in her yard…she decides to go all in. “It is better to have loved and lost…” as the saying goes.

And I like that this is where the show chose to go. It’s not a story about will they/won’t they. It won’t end with them declaring their love. They’ve already done that. This is a show about two people who desperately WANT to be together - and are really great together - but the universe is trying to tear them apart. And I’ve really enjoyed the scenes of them attempting to have a normal life - they’re so easy and natural together and the show has done such a good job, with relatively little screentime, of showing how well they work as a couple. They make each other laugh, they’re impressed by each other, and they can confide and support one another.

And that’s why these last few episodes have been so heartbreaking.

Lets talk about that scene in the bamboo forest, when they briefly reconnected. Tae-eul absolutely broke my heart in this moment. I do wish the show did a better job of conveying how much time passes between Gon’s visits - is it weeks, months?? - but even without a definite timescale, the actress absolutely sold that it had been a significant period of time and she missed him so, so much. It was beautifully done. And it did nothing to advance the plot - it was just a tiny moment to show how much these two love and miss each other. I’m glad the writers have remembered that this show is about the characters as much as its about the Lee Lim/murdering dopplegangers plot.

And then what about this:

When I first saw it, I assumed Gon was crying with grief over his uncle. And I thought it was a nice way of calling back the conversation between PM Koo and Court Lady Noh - that Gon would never cry in front of Koo, proving that she is not the woman for him. But here he is shedding tears with Tae-eul, and bringing her flowers from across the universe.

But now that we know this is Gon from the future, his words and his tears have much, much more poignancy. It’s turned a sad scene into a gut-wrenching one. This felt very much like a last goodbye: bringing her the flowers he never brought, finally being able to tell her how much he loved her, and sharing one final kiss.

So what the hell has happened to this Gon? It appears that he loses Tae-eul at some point…either through her death or some other permanent separation. And why is he in that particular coat? I think it’s his wedding outfit (worn ‘at the most glorious moment’). We know he tends to get ahead of himself - she hasn’t agreed to marry him, but he’s already declared that she is the future Queen, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s already got the royal tailors working on his outfit!

But that brings me to the awful theory that he is marrying PM Koo in the future, which is why he feels the need to have a final moment of closure with Tae-eul. We know Koo has her eye on the crown, and its possible she blackmails him into marriage e.g. by threatening to expose the parallel world.

The other heartbreaking moment in this last episode was the photograph scene. Gon has already worked out that they can’t keep using the gateway between the worlds. Each time they do, time stops for longer and longer (I love that he is a mathematician, and his logical brain figures this stuff out so quickly. Its refreshing to have a lead who knows almost as much as the audience does and you’re not constantly waiting for him to catch up and clue in).

So during this latest time-freeze, he can’t help but cry. It a lovely juxtaposition with the first time he’s with a motionless Tae-eul. Back then, he was full of wonder at the beauty of the moment. Now, it’s just a reminder that their time together is limited.

Each moment they share together is now touched with bittersweetness and an air of melancholy and its bloody PAINFUL to watch. The angst in this show is tearing my heart out!!

This moment was a bit lighter, and I’m glad they’ve moved their relationship forward in this way. It was a bit ridiculous that they’re in love, finally together in the same world, they both know time is running out…and yet they’re still being so platonic! C’mon, I know this is a k-drama (which are super-PG)…but this was starting to stretch my credulity!

And…wild baseless theory coming up…could she be pregnant as a result?? The doctor made a point of saying she was on antibiotics (which stops birth control working) and there’s a tiny snippet in the trailer where she says ‘I think I’m-‘. So, my mind couldn’t help but go there! Because this show doesn’t have enough angst!!

(Extremely wild, baseless theory number 2…could yo-yo boy be their child? He belongs to both worlds, which would make sense if his parent were from both worlds too…and he has that connection with Luna…

No. I don’t like this theory at all, because he’s obviously not been raised with his parents which means a super-sad ending is coming. And he seems a bit more like a God-like character than a mortal boy, so I’m probably waaaay off track, and I really hope I am).

My last point (and, boy did this get long!) is that I struggle to see how the show can possibly tie everything up in just 4 episodes. We have Lee Lim’s plan that has barely come into play, all the dopplegangers to sort out, Shin-Jae’s background to explore, Lady Noh’s background (!), PM Koo’s ambitions, who saved 8-year old Gon, and of course, how Gon and Tae-eul will resolve their star-crossed lovers thing.

It’s either going to end tragically, or there’ll be loose ends…or they might be setting up a season 2. If that’s the case I’ll be PISSED! One of the reasons I became addicted to K-dramas is how they (usually) tell a complete story in 1 season. There’s a clear, satisfying ending and it doesn’t get dragged out for multiple years.

There’s also the risk that there won’t BE a season 2. I gather the show is popular on Netflix, but I see things on twitter about it not doing well in South Korea. For such a lavish, expensive show, is a second season even guaranteed?

UGH, I need to have a happy ending guys!

#kdrama #the king eternal monarch #TKEM #join in me in my angsty hellhole #tell me your thoughts and theories

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bibliocratic · 5 years ago

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TMA jonmartin fics

Organising these, mostly so I can keep track to be honest. All some flavour of jonmartin, predominantly fluff or angst. cws in original tags.

Updated as of June 2020

If you'd like to send any prompts, feel free! All of these are also bundled together on A03.

Martin tries to rescue Jon from Elias, post-160

JONAH MAGNUS Oh, but, look. Look at him, Martin. Isn’t my Archive magnificent?

MARTIN [whispered, almost fearful] Yes.

Martin feels the pull of the Lonely. Jon draws a bath.

“Come on,” Jon says, enfolding their hands together. His voice is kind, and that’s never died, no matter how the world bricked it up and starved it of sunlight. Jon’s kind to his bones, and it wells up from the deep down of him.

Jon pulls the way, and Martin follows behind.

Even after Jon stops being the Archivist, they aren’t safe. (parent!AU)

“I would like to propose an idea,” Martin says. Softer now. More tired. “and I-I want you to hear me out.”

“OK.”

“Whatever it is.”

“You’re not exactly inspiring confidence.”

Martin gives him a Look.

“OK,” Jon says, rubbing his thumb over Martin’s knuckles. “OK, I promise. Whatever it is, I-I’ll at least listen.”

Martin's nightmares never quite leave him

Martin feels the question form there, at the centre, the tentative journey it traverses before he hears 'Can I…. I mean, do you want to…?’

The question isn’t fully born before he’s heaving great waves of sobs into the chest he’s pillowed on. Like clockwork, the arms come round, always an inch too tight a grip, and somehow that makes this easier to bear.

Things were always going to catch up with them eventually

He’s a light sleeper, and they knew he would be. Didn’t want him to wake too soon, to be denied a proper welcome. Jon shifts and stretches and burrows as he slips dazedly into consciousness, nestling tighter against the body next to him still fast-asleep before the thick weight of sleep is dropped and he jolt up, a punched out breath of shock escaping them.

And finally they are witnessed. They watch his expressions free-fall from understanding to despair.

Local Man cheats at card games, Local Avatar is smitten

Martin likes playing, not necessarily competitively, but where he does excel is in cheating. Jon catches him swapping out a three for a queen out of the corner of his eye – well, Martin wants him to catch him – and his smile is wide and shocked and gleeful in his own way –you cheat! How could you?!

soulmate-identifying marks, or: fuck yeah tattoos

“The Archivist?” Peter Lukas asks. His voice isn’t mocking. Martin isn’t sure what it it.

He hates the tone of it.

“Do you want something?” Martin responds curtly. Frosty. Tugging his sleeves back down pointedly. Peter’s expression is ever so proud.

Something is wrong. Martin just can't put his finger on it.

“Sorry,” Jon says, without sounding sorry in the slightest, almost cheeky. He bestows another kiss that is not a kiss to Martin’s neck, scraping a little with his teeth.

“Sleep,” Martin repeats, groggy but firm, and traps the soft, unblemished skin of Jon’s hands in his own.

Martin has certain standards

Jon feels a wide smile begin on his face (still so rare, still hard-won, but Martin teases them out of him with the smallest things these days).

“You hipster!” he says with delight, secretly pleased he’s found something he can tease Martin about. “Have you thrown out my teabags just to make a point?”

Jon wakes up and finds Martin gone

– Something is absent from us. –

Jon opens his blinking, feeble human eyes. Feels around with his finger tips, feels the cool sheet next to him, the unoccupied imprint on the pillow.

Martin is not next to him.

Jon strikes a bargain to save Martin

Martin is blinking away the sediment build-up of unshed tears and they roll down his face, shrivelling in the strict grip of the cold.

“I thought,” he says thinly, “I thought I was going to die alone.”

“You aren’t going to die,” Jon bites out, and it only has the ghost of a furious intensity but the sentiment soaks in it. He feels the Loneliness recede, with a slowness that’s impartially mocking. “You aren’t going to die. I won’t let you.”

Martin showing normal, genuine human anger, feat. Blackwood Snr.

“Right,” comes the short response. “I am – you know I am trying here.”

Martin’s voice goes low and flat and judgemental.

“And how long until you lose interest this time?”

MLM solidarity front, or: Tim and Martin go drinking

“I mean – I – I’d like to. If you – if you still want.”

Tim grins, and his cocksure manner is on display like a theatre curtain lifted. He stands up, doing a stupid little bow like he’s trying to make Martin laugh.

“t'would be my honour to lead you astray, Master Blackwood.”

Back-and-forth early morning teasing

“It’s a bit late to tell me you’re a dog person,” Jon chides instead. “I’m afraid I might have to call this whole thing off, if that’s the case.”

Martin looks up at him with his face squashed into his ‘you are not, and have never been funny, Jonathan’ face.

Martin hides an injury. Jon is freaking out in his own way.

He can taste grit and dirt in his mouth and there’s a stinging dampness on his upper lip. He blinks, coming to terms slowly, and it’s then that he realises, just from a brief glance, that Jon is absolutely fuming.

Jon is getting better at expressing what he wants

Jon reaches out, and like setting fingers to the board of a violin, delicately fits his hand against Martin’s. Like he’s memorised exactly the places where they go, the coves and shorelines where their islands can align.

Martin’s grip has never been as careful. His fingers engulf Jon’s smaller size, cushioning them in a sturdy grip.

How to proposal to your boyfriend during an apocalypse, and definitely how not to.

Jon tries to write vows.

Domesticity and going on holiday, post Watcher's Crown

“Jon!” Martin is shouting with his head shoved in the under-stairs closet. “You got your raincoat?”

“I won’t need it,” comes the low response from the kitchen.

“The weather said it might rain.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jon replies, only half listening really, with a willfully misplaced confidence in the weather.

“I’ll pack it anyway,” Martin calls back, kicking something else with his foot that sounds like the hoover. “In case.”

Jon does not react well to ending the world. Martin puts together the pieces.

Under the watch of that terrible sky, Jon crumples like something demolished.

Martin catches him. He always will, he remembers thinking.

In the Lonely, Jon hugs Martin (set mid-159)

Jon’s arms go around him, and there is nothing tentative, soft-shoed, there is no awkward displacement holding him slightly at a distance. Jon’s arms go around him, and he – his body unfolds against Martin’s. There is much too much of him, a surge of all-at-once motion and Martin feels like splintering.

Martin's not the only one susceptible to the Lonely

He hears the wash of mile-distant waves, as though behind the shelves to the front of the shop, and thinks not here, not here.

He tries to shake his head loose of the fog beginning to bind it like cobwebbing wisps. But the world has such terrors in it, and the Archive keeps record of them all. And that’s what Jon is, in the end.

The day-to-day ramifications of being a record of ceaseless terror

In the dark, under the covers, the sound is the shift of grave soil, of pressing earth, but it is also Martin, ensconced in warm empty dreams, Jon trying to breath through his nose and not wake him up, and it can be all of these things at once.

Supportive Martin and the Eye-based horror his boyfriend sometimes turns into.

“Stop.”

The rats stop. So does Martin. The scream bubbles un-made and unvoiced in his chest and he can’t blink the blood out of his eyes. He can’t see Jon, but he doesn’t expect to. It’s not Jon that’s here with them any more.

'I'll stay right here, ok?”

“The ambulance will be here s – ” Martin starts, trying to be gentle, but Jon tightens his grip ever so kindly, shakes his head.

“I don’t think I’ll be waiting around for that,” he says, and it’s almost light-hearted in the face of what they both know is now inevitable.

Patron swap, Lonely!Jon, Beholding!Martin

It is a surprise to no one that upon taking over the Institute, Peter Lukas turns his hand at trying to steer Jonathan Sims to the Lonely.

In the days after the end of the world, Jon finds Martin a gift

“Woss, what’s wrong?” Martin starts, but Jon’s pressing something into his hands firmly, so self-satisfied, joyous and smug with a mysterious success, and he feels his own grin start to blossom in kind, wanting to take part in the same delight. “What is it?”

sleep doesn't look pleasant, spoilers for 161

Martin won’t wake up. Eyes clenched closed, breathing laboured, and for a long while, Jon’s world gets quieter as his own immediate louder fear rises like gall in his throat. He tries compelling him even.

Jon doesn’t know that this will happen every time Martin dreams.

Jon is admitted to hospital. Martin frets.

Jon nearly died today, his brain keeps reminding him. You nearly lost him, you nearly weren’t fast enough.

Trans!Jon, Trans!Martin, intimate rituals

Jon’s hair is getting long.

Morning rituals, Jon admiring the view.

But he much prefers this slow and lazy unwinding of a day because he gets to study Martin. He puts his elbows on the wooden table off to the side of their pokey kitchen, and enjoys watching an artless, intimate one-man performance just for him, as he acclimatises to the day.

Scottish honeymoon, soft get-together

Martin wonders why Jon didn’t go upstairs. Take the bed. The cottage is an old crofter’s place, two small and utilitarian bedrooms where they discarded their meagre belongings on arrival.

Martin looks at the tea. Feels the scarf under his head, the heavy coats weighing him down.

Thinks he might know why.

Monster!Jon, AU S5

“What the fuck are you?” she says. She does not lower her weapon. The guard to her left has raised her own.

All of its eyes blink out of rhythm as its unseen mouth moves with that croaking, piteous whisper. “He’s, he’s human, he’s hurt and he needs – he’ll die, please.” The man it is carrying looks human. Painted with dirt and filth, the slick of insects broken over his skin. His breathing is starting to rattle.

Tim is mildly cursed, S1 shenanigans

Whoever is closest, but usually Sasha, will give a sarcastic cheer. To which Tim – cradling his injury, glowering with a fire-starter expression at whatever file or paper or fragment dealt the blow – will reply: “Piss off, right, it’s not funny, I’m cursed. This is a curse.”

OG Archive crew sad hours

There could have been a day, when they’d all just talked.

Martin struggles to readjust to the world, post 159

Some days though, when the tempest around has dropped from squalling, Martin feels brave enough to look over at Jon.

Jon and Martin’s post-s5 wish list

“Martin?”

“Hmm?”

“After all this, after we’ve – what do you want to do? If we manage to – ”

“When we manage to.”

“Fine, when all this goes back to the way it was, what do you want to do?”

Safehouse drabble

Jon doesn’t sleep but this rest is as close to peace as this world allows him.

AU S3, Breekon and Hope take Martin, not Jon.

Tim always thought Martin was reliable. Unshakeable.

That he was always going to be there.

Martin’s daemon is a spider. People have mixed feelings about this.

“Aron,” Martin says slowly. He keeps his hands folded on his lap but his fingers twitch to reach out. “This is – we’ve settled, haven’t we?”

Aron can’t nod. His form can’t allow for such an expression. But he brings his legs in closer, pebbles up and won’t look at Martin, and that’s answer enough.

Aspec Martin Week - Daemon!AU

Martin has always liked watching Emer. The flash of gossamer-white wings circling Jon’s head or sat on his wrist like an overly-extravagant watch while he read statements.

“Stop looking,” he used to hiss at the moving lump under his shirt, poking many orb-like eyes over his collar to stare even when Martin stopped. “It’s rude.”

Aspec Martin Week - Martin’s first Pride

Restored from their dramatic hangovers, Monday comes. Martin arrives huffing and delayed from the Tube to see Tim’s stuck his flag so it stands battered and proud over the lid of his laptop. Sasha’s made her small desk teddy bear hold hers. And it’s the memory of the day, the sun and the heat and the wild dizzying lack of expectations of it all, that gives him the courage to bring the flags he carefully preserved in on Tuesday, to put them jutting out of the mug on his desk that holds his stationery.

Honestly, he doesn’t expect anyone to comment on them. It’s not like anyone else comes down to their offices anyway.

Aspec Martin Week - Martin comes out (with help)

You surge against his lips again so he can’t see your nerves, you stupid, unfounded, calcifying anxieties, the barriers you keep putting up yourself because you are so terrified of being happy.

“Maybe… not tonight?” you mumble into your shared air. If he pushed, if he asked again, you would. He dragged you from the shoreline, out of the fog, this is the least you can give him. You’d lie on your back, or you’d cover him with your shape, and you’d try so hard to make him happy so he wouldn’t notice you not sharing the same. “’m a bit tired.”

Tricky, is what you are. Perjurious. Prevaricating. Two-faced.

Martin is a massive fan of Jon’s multitude of eyes

“I just want to see,” Martin mimics petulance and Jon huffs a smirk.

“They are my eyeballs,” he responds primly, putting down a dry mug and picking up a plate to towel off.

“What’s the point of having horror-bestowed physical improvements if you don’t show them off?”

Martin worries about being a father

That’s not – ” Martin says, stops. Pulls his hands away from his face, his eyes puffy.

He takes Jon’s hand, still perched on his knee, laces their fingers together. Over the baby monitor, Jon can hear the soft untroubled in-and-out of their son breathing.

“I sounded like my dad,” Martin confesses finally. Fat tears well up and stagger down his tear-prickled cheeks. “I sounded exactly like him.”

Martin and Jon get wine drunk

Jon sticks out his tongue. Martin tries to poke it with his finger, and Jon reels back with another one of those wine-laden expressions, earnest and open as a window.

“I want to know everything about you,” he says, struggling with finding the opening at the top of the pack, before he pauses, dutifully following up with a no-less sincere and concessionary: “But not if you don’t want to.”

There’s nothing sexier than open and honest communication (post-166)

“I fucking hate the Buried,” Jon says into Martin’s shoulder.

“It sucks,” Martin agrees. “You er – you have any more poetry this time?”

Martin feels Jon’s ‘no’ like an earth tremor over his breastbone.

“Worms,” comes the reply muffled shapeless into his coat.

“Like…normal worms?”

“People worms.”

“Rrright. Less fun then.”

Martin has some thoughts about the Web

Martin does not think about spiders.

(Except he does.)

Did you feel, Jon had proposed delicately, like she was influencing your mind at all?

Jon’s world has no certainties. No maps, boundaries, no promises that can remain unquestioned.

Martin has the edges of his world now. He has to be able to trust in them.

Jon gets hurt and doesn’t tell Martin

Jon burns when Martin puts a hand to his forehead, and he won’t wake, not for Martin’s calls and shakes, not for anything. When Martin goes to check, the wound on his leg has rooted from ankle to thigh, festering rot-black branches of something sludgy and swollen and varicose tracing the same lines as his veins.

The Corruption wars with Beholding upon the battleground of its Archive, and there is nothing Martin can do.

Martin still struggles with his mental health

It was easier, Martin thinks sometimes, when he could blame it on the Lonely.

Episode 170 could have gone so many different ways

This is your house, we whisper to him.

You have always been here alone, we promise.

We recite to our beloved that he has never been loved, and our winds, our walls, our winding mists tell him so often that eventually he believes us.

#tma #long post #jonmartin #the magnus archives #fic #prompt fills #jonathan sims #martin blackwood

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