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uwuwriting · 4 years

Text

Boyfriend w/ Megumi, Itadori and Gojo

Request: hii I just read your jujutsu nightmares piece and oh my god I am indeed a very simple simp and your writing just makes my heart go uwu so may I maybe req a very soft, fluffy s/o for Megumi, Itadori Sato and maybe Sukuna if you write for him? I hope it's not too much, thank uu <3 - anonymous

I can’t get enough of the JJK content, I love them so much my heart can’t take it. Sadly I don’t write for Sukuna *I think I mention it in my rules but I’m not sure*, he pissed me off big time in the manga so yeah sorry about that. Really all the curses have kinda pissed me off but that’s a story for another day lmao. Love ya.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: boyfriend things lol, fluff, maybe some angst sprinkled on top but not a lot.

Fushiguro Megumi

-Megumi reminds me of Suna from Haikyuu.

-Like a lot.

-He will put effort in the relationship of course but he won’t flaunt it around in everybody’s faces.

-Yes he has a s/o and yes he is in love but in his book that should be mostly kept in between you two, no one else has to know.

-So at first your relationship isn’t really acknowledged by the others.

-It’s so subtle at casual that everyone around you thinks that you’re merely best friends and close to each other.

-Only Makki knows that you two are a thing since she sees how you worry and take care of him after he has been injured.

-It’s different from platonic concern and she knows what’s going on.

-Plus she saw you steal a kiss one time and that sealed the deal.

-Eventually the others figure it out and they are losing their shit, for completely different reasons though.

-Nobara can’t believe Megumi got a s/o before she did.

-Gojo is hurt because neither of you said anything and he has been trying to hook you up for the past two years now.

-Itadori is just confused because he thought that you were like that to everyone.

-Now PDA is non-existent with this one.

-He doesn’t feel comfortable touching you in public even if it’s a small peck.

-He prefers showing his love behind closed doors or through acts of service.

-So expect to find multiple bentos waiting for you in the kitchen each morning or a hot bath on the ready when you come back from a long mission.

-You are okay with the no PDA rule, your only request is that he at least hold your pinkie when you need it.

-It grounds you and who is he to say no to that?

-During missions he doesn’t underestimate your strength and let’s you do your thing.

-He only interferes when you ask for help or when he notices that you’re extremely overwhelmed.

-He doesn’t smother you and you are eternally grateful for that.

-Training sessions between the both of you are brutal.

-Neither holds back and you're left a panting, sweating mess at the end, crawling to your respective rooms to change before you settle for a movie later that afternoon.

-If either of you gets injured it’s mama bear time.

-You need to change your bandages? Megumi has already taken out the kit and all the essentials.

-He needs to take some meds to calm the pain in his ribcage? You have the pills in hand.

-He is a shy boy so even in private he hesitates to touch you.

-Don’t get him wrong he loves holding you and feeling you close to him but he is also afraid he will make you uncomfortable or overstep.

-So you will be the one initiating cuddle session during the first months of your relationship.

-After a while he will simply pick you up and carry you to his bed for cuddles if he needs them without uttering a word the whole time.

-Good morning/Goodnight kisses are a must.

-It’s a ground rule that he follows religiously since day one.

-It doesn’t matter if it’s a simple peck on his lips or a passionate kiss, he just wants to get a kiss before starting/ending the day.

-Sleeps on his stomach with an arm always draped over your waist.

-Isn’t really into the whole sleeping on each other thing but he won’t say no to being the big spoon or even better the little spoon.

-He gets flustered when you kiss his knuckles or trace patterns on his palms.

-He knows his hands are rough from all the training but after your touch they feel tender and gentle.

-Prefers indoor dates rather than outdoor ones.

-His favorite is cooking dinner together and then cuddling on the couch *in hopes you won’t get interrupted by Gojo*.

-The only thing he dislikes about the whole relationship thing is the teasing he receives from Gojo.

-He is ready to rip his ears off.

-Boy has murder on his mind 24/7 and it is all directed to his mentor.

-Gojo noticed that Megumi had you as his wallpaper ONCE and now it’s game over for your boyfriend.

-The thing is that you don’t get teased as much and he is *salty*.

Itadori Yuuji

-He is such a lovable boy, how could you NOT fall in love with him?

-Your relationship is naturally effortless.

-Everything flows so naturally and without even trying you two have formed such an unbreakable bond that not even Sukuna himself can tether even if he tried.

-Many MANY spontaneous trips to the nearest convenience store at 3 am.

-Oh you are craving some popcorn? Well go on, get your shoes, we are going grocery shopping.

-Won’t hesitate to do anything for you and when I say anything I mean it.

-He ditched Gojo once because you had bad period pains and said you needed cuddles.

-What cruel creature would he be if he denied his beautiful girlfriend her cuddles???

-Sukuna has cockblocked you two and has ruined your cuddles on multiple occasions.

-From weird noises to rude comments to interrupting Yuuji’s thoughts with random shit.

-Real party crasher.

-Yuuji’s love language is touch mainly so expect a shit load of hugs and kisses.

-Won’t let go of your hand while you are out in public.

-If he can’t hold your hand he will place his palm in the small of your back or wrap his arm around your shoulders/waist.

-It’s a physical need.

-He has to be touching you at all times because that reminds him that you are truly here beside him and that you are okay.

-The sorcerer's life has already taken a toll on his mentality and he hates leaving you alone so most of the time you go on conjoined missions.

-Unlike Megumi he tries to protect you during fights by all means.

-He doesn’t do it because he sees you as weak and in need of protection it’s just an instinct that he can’t control at all.

-He will put himself in immense danger, taking all the blows just so you can leave the scene unscathed.

-You have scolded him on his complete disregard of his own life and the tears that pooled in his eyes as he explained that his body moves on its own when he sees anything darting towards you, breaks your heart.

-If you kiss the little marks under his eyes all his worries fly out the nearest window.

-He forgets about everything around him, about the looming threat of his imminent execution, the only thing on his mind are your lips on his cheekbones and your thumbs rubbing circles on his cheeks.

-If you pepper him in too many kisses he will begin his own assault by first tackling you to the floor or the bed and capturing you in a hug before the smooches begin.

-He has a tendency to leave hickies on your neck which you struggle to cover each morning and you are always real close to glaring at him when he beams like the sun itself at you in the morning but your mild anger fades the moment his lips meet yours.

-You have your suspicions that he knows what he is doing with that, he knows his kisses make you weak so he uses them to his advantage.

-Will never admit it but it always places a small smirk on his lips every time you clutch his shirt for balance or rest your forehead on his shoulder to regain your composure.

-An I love you a day is required for good vibes.

-Won’t hesitate to shout it even in front of others, he just has no filter and no shame.

-Makes you turn tomato red and he snickers.

-Fuck him, literally.

Gojo Satoru

-This fucking tease.

-He has no chill!!!!!!

-How are you with him?!?!?!?!!

-My man fine af and he drinks his respect for y/n and y/n alone juice every morning.

-That doesn’t mean though he won’t try to fluster you throughout the day.

-It’s his main goal really.

-Full blown make out sessions in the hallways of the school, ass smacks in front of others and trying to leave hickies on your neck during your lunch break.

-It simultaneously pisses you off and turns you on so you can’t decide if you should smack him or jump his bones.

-It’s a never ending debate and his chances of getting the quawk quawk 5000 are 50/50.

-He respects your boundaries when you give him a sign that you really don’t want him to be like that on certain days.

-He is a very observant individual in general so it’s not hard for him to take note of the signs of pure discomfort or awkwardness.

-True he loves flustering you but the moment things get out of hand and you don’t feel okay with how he is acting, he is throwing his attitude out the window and becomes respectful Gojo in a flash.

-Likes having his arm draped over your shoulder.

-He is super tall so chances are he towers over you.

-He has used you like an armrest several times which resulted to a trip to Shoko for a dislocated wrist/shoulder.

-You make him bentos almost everyday and he waits for them like a lost puppy.

-No matter the time, he doesn’t care if he is late, he will wait for you to make him a little bento to take with him.

-Curses can wait, he needs to receive his first dose of y/n love of the day.

-Brags to his student about you and to Nanami, much to the blonde’s dismay.

-Talks everyone’s ear off.

-He becomes super protective when an elder shows up or at the mere mention of them.

-He will grasp your hand, keeping a firm grip as those pretentious fucks stare down at you.

-They really don’t care about Sato’s happiness and they will never show you a fiber of respect despite being chosen by the strongest sorcerer.

-You are not part of one of the three clans so you are worth nothing in their eyes.

-Gojo hates them for that.

-Deep rooted hatred that could turn into a mass murder if one of them call you a distraction or a slut one more time.

-You are really grateful for him in those moments.

-You are grateful in general but during those times when you are being bombared left and right with rude comments, he will remind everyone in the room that he doesn’t give a flying fuck about what they believe.

-He fell in love with you because you are your beautiful self and not because you are a powerful sorcerer.

-He wants to imagine your kids as a sign of your love and not as an item of power, as a weapon like many of these people see him.

-He has ditched the elder meetings on many occasions just because he wasn’t in the mood of listening to their bullshit so he came home to you and spent the rest of his night cuddled up under the large comforter, watching a movie while peppering your shoulders with kisses.

-Adores seeing you in his clothes.

-They are so big on you that you wear them as dresses around the house.

-He especially loves the sight of your bare legs peeking from underneath his black t-shirt.

-99% of the time this ends up in you getting your guts rearranged.

-Surprisingly remembers all the important dates and he makes it to as many dates as he can.

-Being a sorcerer is difficult man, give him a break curses he has a date at 8 and he needs to get his formal glasses.

-All in all he loves you to the moon and back and would do anything to keep you safe and next to him.

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writingwife-83 · 3 years

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Hii I saw your post about random prompts.

I found number 1 (Sherlock's pov) and 67 (Molly's pov) intriguing.

Feel free to choose whichever one you'd like to take up 😋

Thanks in advance ☺️

Since I already covered #1, I’m going with 67. “Speak for me again, and I’ll punch you in the throat.” Hope you like how I used it! And thanks to @thisisartbylexie who made a suggestion that changed the premise for the better. 🥰

Another Speech

“And so,” John went on. “Let’s all raise our glasses to Sherlock and Molly, who we love and wish all the happiness in the world!”

The small crowd lifted their glasses and agreed with a chorus of “to Sherlock and Molly!”

Molly grinned, leaning into Sherlock and intending to put her arm around him, but found herself surprised as he began to stand.

“Well, I suppose it’s my turn now!” he announced.

“Sherlock!” Molly whispered up at her new husband, tugging at his hand. “You do realize the groom doesn’t give a speech, right?”

“Molly, don’t forget, I’ve done this three times now, ” he replied with a little laugh. “I’ve become a bit of an expert, so it would be a shame to waste the skill at my own wedding!”

Molly glanced over at John who could only shake his head and shrug.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Mary leaned over and questioned in a whisper.

Molly’s eyes went wide. “What? No! Why?”

“Good.” Mary grabbed the bottle and filled Molly’s champagne flute. “Pretty sure you’re gonna need this.”

“Honored guests,” Sherlock addressed. “My wife and I are grateful you could be here today. I confess I hadn’t always much cared for the idea of a wedding and reception, but I’ve been brought round to the idea. I’ve been brought round to a number of things in recent years, I suppose.”

He glanced down and winked at her, making her smile.

“And in thinking about what I might say on this special occasion, I thought you might all enjoy hearing a little story about the first time that I recall beginning to fall in love with Molly Hooper.”

Molly looked at Mary, her brows knitted together in confusion. She could honestly say she had no idea where this was going.

“It was in the first few months that I’d come to London and began working with Scotland Yard,” he continued. “Lestrade and I went to Bart’s to examine a body, and there we met with Dr Hooper and an intern in the morgue. It stood out to me almost immediately that this man, who shall remain nameless, was particularly talkative. More specifically, he was interrupting quite a bit.”

Molly’s lips parted in a little ‘oh,’ finally remembering exactly which occasion Sherlock was describing.

“It seemed that everything Molly said, he either interrupted and explained himself, or once she’d stated her thoughts, he’d restate them as if she needed help clarifying.” He rolled his eyes. “It was irritating enough to witness, but I could also tell that Molly was becoming less and less tolerant of his behavior by the time we were ready to leave.”

Oh she certainly remembered how irritated she was, she thought with a little laugh.

“I actually started to hang back as Lestrade and I were taking our leave. I considered cruelly deducing the man; telling him what a bad relationship he has with his father and how insecure it’s made him in his own masculinity, therefore making him unable to stay respectfully silent when a woman outshines him intellectually.”

A little chuckle rippled through the crowd as everyone there could no doubt envision Sherlock saying exactly that to the man.

“But just as I was about to go back, I heard Molly’s little voice, soft but fierce. She said to him, ‘Speak for me again, and I’ll punch you in the throat.’”

At that the crowd erupted in outright laughter, which Molly couldn’t help but join in.

“There’s clearly plenty of reasons why we get on,” Mary leaned over to whisper.

“I admit to being a bit surprised at that moment, and more than a little impressed. It stirred something in me that I didn’t fully recognize then, but I see it now in hindsight.” Sherlock looked down at his wife and smiled softly. “And I never did step in, because I realized that she really didn’t need me to. In fact, I think I’ve always needed her far more than she’s needed me. But somehow, despite not truly needing me…she did always want me.”

Molly twisting her lips as her eyes started to well with emotion while gazing up at him.

He cleared his throat, as if perhaps becoming emotional as well, and then he lifted his glass. “So here’s to Molly, my wife, one of the strongest people I know, who is more than capable to go through this life on her own, and yet she chooses to do so with me.”

Everyone joined in again and drank to Molly, but she couldn’t see much past the man standing next to her. She stood as well and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close as she sniffed away her tears.

“I love you, you know, and that was a marvelous little speech,” she muttered in his neck. “But I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong.”

“Have I?”

“It is our wedding day, so I suppose I’ll forgive you this time, even though you should know I don’t tolerate people speaking for me,” Molly teased, pulling back and smiling softly. “But don’t you ever forget, Sherlock Holmes…I absolutely do need you.”

#sherlolly #dialogue prompts #married sherlolly #sherlolly wedding #Lexie and I were cackling about sherlock insisting on giving a speech at his own wedding lol

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rivetwrites · 4 years

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Maybe korekiyo 🥺 he’s a big comfort character of mine. Also your writing makes me so happy and make sure to not push yourself 😊

//omg!! thank you so much, you’re so sweet!! korekiyo coming up!!

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Korekiyo Shinguji Fluff Alphabet

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Korekiyo isn’t a people person, rather he’d prefer to watch and observe them. Going out to diners or to the park to people watch is what he’d likes to do during his free time. He’d love to have you by his side while he talks about old traditions, or what he thinks about different cultures.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

When he says he loves everything about you, he absolutely means it. He finds you just as beautiful as humanity itself, he can’t help to compliment you every time he sees you.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

“How could someone as beautiful as you, have so much sorrow?” He would say, pulling you into his chest. He resolves your discomfort with compliments, and they usually work. Wiping your tears with his thumbs, he’d compliment you to no tomorrow. “You’re more beautiful when you’re smiling, darling.”

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He wants to get married and have a child with you. He finds families so beautiful, and he wants one for himself. He wants a very, very traditional life with you.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Very dominant in the relationship. He plans all the dates, gives you all the gifts and love. He doesn’t expect any of it back, but he’s delighted to receive it as well! He’s open minded as well, so he’ll listen to your ideas for dates.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Korekiyo is aloof most of the time, so sometimes he can be hard to approach. Sometimes he’ll ignore you for his studies or work, which can hurt your feelings. He’d notice you’re upset, but he’ll leave you alone for the time being. After awhile, he’ll come by and sit next to you and start apologizing to you. He truly doesn’t mean to ignore you, but he can’t help it sometimes when he’s reading something interesting. Whenever you make him upset, he’ll make it known that he’s upset to you. When you apologize, he’s easily forgiving, knowing that even the most perfect human such as yourself, makes mistakes.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Extremely grateful. You’ve helped him healthily cope with his past, and he’s scarily aware of all of it. He’d thank you relentlessly, giving you more and more flowers, chocolates, gifts, just to show his gratitude.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

The most secrets he’s ever kept from you, is his past. Other than that, he’s pretty open with you. With time, he would start to open up more and more to you. Korekiyo is the master at secrets, so your word will always be safe with him.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You’ve definitely helped him with his past, and he’ll forever be grateful for you. He began to be more open with you and his friends, being able to be in control of himself, and being able to start wearing his mask less and less around you.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

No one dares to even start to flirt with you, Korekiyo is always by your side in public. He may be slim, but he’s tall and gave off an unsettling vibe. If anyone ever decided to take the risk, his main goal is to scare him away with his gaze alone. Once you’re back home with him, he wouldn’t bring it up. He trusts you, but he gets pretty silently jealous. You’d have to call him out on it, and he would just chuckle and tell you not to worry about it too much.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He’s not the best at kissing, since he always has his mask over his lips, but he likes being kissed! He’s tall, so you would have to settle with his shoulder or hands. On the very rare, intimate occasions, he’ll pull down his mask to kiss your lips lightly, leaving a slight lipstick smudge.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

When Korekiyo loves someone, he will let them know. He’d observe first, to see if you return his feelings, which wouldn’t take long. Once he’s positive you will accept him, he’ll take his bandaged hands into yours as he confesses his feelings to you. When you accept, you can see his eyes scrunch slightly from smiling as he pulls you into a hug.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Yes!! He wants to have a very traditional wedding, as he finds it so beautiful. He’d invite his friends, since he doesn’t have the greatest relationship with his family. But your family is his family too! So he’s not complaining. He would love it to be as traditional as possible, possibly Japanese tradition. But if you want some other tradition, he wouldn’t complain either.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

“My beautiful human,” or, “darling.” Anything more formal will do as well. He loves calling you beautiful, since you absolutely deserve to hear it all the time.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

On the rare moments, he’d fully remove his mask to pepper your face in kisses, leaving nothing untouched. He’d whisper in your ear on how beautiful you are, and how much he loves you. Don’t plan on leaving anytime soon, he’ll be gripping onto you for hours.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He’d prefer to keep affection behind closed doors, but he wouldn’t mind giving you masked kisses to your forehead and hand. He does gloat slightly, telling his friends on how beautiful you are, and how lucky he is to have such an amazing S/O.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Korekiyo is extremely patient with you, so feel free to say your problems with him. He thinks logically, so giving advice would be a great perk with him! He’s also open minded with your interests, as he has a few strange interests himself.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Very cliche. He’d give you flowers that have specific meanings, homemade chocolate, traditional dates, the whole shebang. He has no shame at his cheesiness, and he sees no reason for you to be either. Sometimes he’ll surprise you with a small gift every once and awhile, usually a small sculpture, which he proceeds to tell you the entire history behind it.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Absolutely, though he would less help you, and more observe you try to achieve them. Seeing you so determined makes you look so beautiful and he can’t help to watch.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Not a thrill seeker at all, though he would like to take you on a bunch of dates. He loves taking you on different kind of dates that are common in other cultures, but he’d prefer to have more secluded dates with you.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Korekiyo has a hard time with his own emotions, so he wouldn’t be as empathetic as he would like to be. Knowing you, however, he can detect the smallest change in your mood. He’s extremely observant, so he would sit you down and let you talk about your feelings whenever you need to.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

More than humanity itself. You’re his beautiful human, and he’ll keep you safe in his warm grasp. Of course, he cared about other things, but you’ll alwyas be his number one.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Every now and again, once you two have free time together, he’d sit you down on the bed and start complimenting every part of you. He makes sure none of you is left unloved. It’s the rare moment where he would pull down his mask to kiss your hands and arms.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He’s not the best at receiving affection, but he loves giving it! Kiyo would pepper your face in small, masked kisses as he holds you in his lanky arms. Though, he’d get pretty awkward when you give him your own kisses, but he wouldn’t complain.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He’d bury himself in his book and work. He’s not too good at coping with missing you, so he’d do his best to distract himself. Once you come back, he’d silently slink over to you, wrapping his long arms around your waist as he presses his masked lips to your temple, telling you how much he missed you.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He’ll do anything for you. He loves you with his entire being, so he’ll do everything to make you happy.

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #korekiyo shinguji #korekiyo x reader #mod oma #killing harmony #drv3 #fluff alphabet

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lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr · 3 years

Text

Stormy Waters

⚓︎ Previous Parts: Betrayal, Doubts, The Race, A Challenge of Fate, Strange Happenings, Blurred Reality, Negotiations, Attack at Sea

⚓︎ Pairing: Jungkook x OC

⚓︎ Genre: Fantasy, Pirate AU, magic, time travel, romance

⚓︎ Warnings: blood, death, fighting, explosions

⚓︎ Rating: General

⚓︎ Word Count: 4.2K

⚓︎ Synopsis: Jisung finds himself aboard an unfamiliar ship with a captain who would rather see him swimming with the fishes than remaining aboard his ship.

Masterlist

Jisung surveyed the new ship through careful glances, keeping his head down to avoid catching anyone’s eye. He’d woken a few minutes ago - his head pounded angrily, and his lungs burned from coughing up half the ocean onto the deck. Any attempt to stand or escape was proven useless. His leg throbbed beneath him even now as he held it carefully still. He was completely at the mercy of the crew surrounding him.

Akira’s crew was smaller than Jungkook’s. That alone should have meant more work for the sailors, but no one seemed to be doing much of anything. Two men sat cross-legged playing a game of cards only a few feet from Jisung. Another flounced across the deck, strumming lazily on what Jisung assumed was a guitar. Or what remained of one. The sound it produced grated against his rising nerves with every strum of the three strings.

Akira himself was locked away inside his cabin. The lack of interest in the crew confused Jisung. Shouldn’t a captain concern himself with everything happening aboard the ship?

More confusing still was why Jisung had been taken at all. With a broken leg and an elbow that showed off more bone than skin, he’d been unable to keep himself above the water’s surface. They should have simply allowed him to drown. Any other opponent would have. So why hadn’t they? He was of no use to them in this condition.

“Hey,” A large leather boot kicked Jisung’s side.

Wincing hard, Jisung grabbed his ribs which, judging by how badly they ached, weren’t in much better shape than his leg. Looking up, he was met with the rough face of one of the sailors. The man was nearly bald and the little hair he did have looked as though it’d been chopped off with a rusty blade. A large scar ran through his bottom lip, baring a disturbing resemblance to one of the hooks Seokjin used to catch dinner on occasion.

“Cap’n wants to see ya in ‘is cabin.”

Jisung lowered his head, fighting simply to take each breath, “I decline.”

“Wer’nt an offer. Unless you want that pr’ty head of yours strung up on the bowstrip and your body swimmin’ with the fishes, I wouldn’t defy a direct order from the cap’n.”

Jisung didn’t like the idea of speaking with Akira on his own, but he disliked the idea of his own beheading even less. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he struggled to his feet.

The sailor rolled his eyes impatiently. “Come on. Hav’nt got all day.”

When Jisung didn’t move any faster, the sailor took him by his collar and dragged him across the deck.

Jisung made a few involuntary strangled noises, doing his best not to cry out against the pain of his leg being dragged across the rough wood.

When they reached the door, the sailor threw Jisung to the ground and raised his fist to knock, but Akira’s voice cut him off.

“Bring him in.”

Jisung’s entire body trembled as he was shoved inside the room. Fighting back an onslaught of tears, he scrambled to his feet, only just managing to catch his balance. The cabin appeared much nicer than Jungkook’s cabin aboard The Bangtan. White walls enlarged the small space. Lush, comfortable furniture pulled at Jisung’s weary body, inviting his aching muscles to rest, but despite the luxury and everything lined with golden accents, the room felt cold. There were no maps scattered across every available surface. Any book Jisung could see was placed neatly in its place and not left open on the desk or marked with any random object lying nearby. Nothing about the room spoke of Akira’s position as captain of the ship.

The biggest difference was the lack of view. Jisung couldn’t see the sea from any of the three windows. Instead, they each displayed views of the ships deck. Akira sat at his desk, watching as his crew slacked and said nothing. It didn’t sit right with him. A captain should be vigilant, attentive and commanding. Everything Akira wasn’t. In fact, he didn’t seem to fit in on the seas at all. Jisung had only met Akira a handful of times and each occurrence had been on land. Seeing him now, out on the open sea where a captain should be, Akira appeared far less intimidating. His skin was pale and glistened with sweat. The confidence he expressed aboard The Bangtan earlier was gone and in its place was a man resembling a fish out of water.

“Jisung, wasn’t it?” Akira motioned to a chair with the softest cushions Jisung had ever seen. “Make yourself comfortable. I have a few questions I would like to present you with.”

Jisung licked his lips nervously. “No thanks, I’d rather stand.”

“It looks as though you can hardly manage that. Are you certain you won’t sit?”

“I’m fine.”

“Have it your way then.” With a wave of his hand, Akira sent the other two men from the room, leaving Jisung alone with the worst captain to ever sail.

Jisung’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t say anything that might compromise anyone aboard The Bangtan. He wasn’t good at keeping secrets. Even when he didn’t mean to, he spilt out information he shouldn’t. It was better simply to remain quiet and hope Akira didn’t demand an answer from him by any physical means.

What Akira said next was not what Jisung had prepared for.

“I suppose it’s less of a question and more of an offer. You see, I have no real use for you. My target had been another, you simply happened to be in the way, and she refused her cooperation if you were to be thrown overboard.”

“She?”

Akira nodded to the far corner of the room.

Jisung turned, shocked to find Aoi seated in one of the soft chairs, legs crossed and a contemplative expression coloring her features as she leaned her chin on the palm of her hand, her elbow braced against her knee. She’d changed into a dry outfit and the men’s clothing gave her a strong sense of authority. Sitting there now, she looked nothing short of powerful.

“She has agreed to cooperate so long as you remain safe while in my care.”

Jisung tried his best to make sense of the strange situation. His head spun with questions. Wasn’t Aoi part of Jungkook’s crew? He’d assumed they were on the same side. So why was she cooperating with Akira? What angle was she playing? Had she given away any secrets? Could he really trust her?

“As such,’ Akira continued, “I’m proposing an offer. Make the decision now to join my crew or leave the ship at the nearest port. Of course, if you should choose to leave, you will no longer be under my protection, and I would have you hunted down and killed. The choice is yours.”

“Are you certain there isn’t a third option hidden in there somewhere? You know, something where I walk away and you don’t kill me?”

Akira laughed.

Jisung’s leg shook beneath him, desperately working to keep him upright. He didn’t like either option. Staying on board meant betraying Jungkook, but leaving would mean abandoning Aoi. He decided he feared Jungkook’s wrath more than anything Akira could throw at him.

Holding his head high, Jisung spoke in the strongest voice he could manage, “As long as Aoi remains on this ship, I will as well.”

Akira sighed as if disappointed in his decision. “Very well then. Welcome aboard. For now, you will sleep on the deck as there is not enough space for you down below. Until further notice, you are under Kujo’s command.” Stopping, he looked down to the gaping wound on Jisung’s leg. “No injury will exempt you from doing your part and you either work as a team or you become fish food.” Akira finished with a tone of finality, ending Jisung’s audience with his new captain.

Looking to Aoi, Jisung attempted to read her expression. He’d always been able to read Jungkook like an open book, but Aoi was different. Apart from a small crease on her forehead, there was nothing to give away her thoughts. He could only hope he’d made the right decision and that Aoi really was on Jungkook’s side. If he’d gotten it wrong . . . he didn’t want to think about it.

Sleep eluded him that night. Aoi had yet to emerge from Akira’s cabin, though the candle had long since been blown out. Jisung’s heart sank as they sailed right past the main harbor. They’d been heading due east ever since.

From his place propped up against the bow, he surveyed the skies. Dark clouds blanketed the stars, restricting his only way of tracking where they were headed. A hazy outline of the full moon was all that could be seen and even that was slowly disappearing. Jisung shivered. The night air was disturbingly still as was the sea beneath them. The crashing waves from earlier had quieted and he hadn’t seen a single sign of life outside the ship for hours. He’d never shied away from a storm, but he couldn’t fight the feeling in his gut that told him to seek shelter. Something was coming and it wasn’t friendly.

Struggling to his feet, Jisung hobbled across the deck to the Akira’s cabin. Pressing his ear up against the door, he closed his eyes and listened hard. Silence was the only reward for his efforts, just as it had been every other time he’d tried to find out what was happening inside the small room. Heavy drapes covered the windows, blocking his view. Akira had pulled them closed as soon as the sun set and the candle was lit inside. A sense of dread settled down around him. Was Aoi even still inside? There was a chance he simply had not seen her leave.

Blowing out a breath of frustration, Jisung hobbled back toward his place at the bow. His leg had gone numb a while ago. He wasn’t sure whether to take that as a good sign or not. For now, it meant he wasn’t in quite as much pain. He would deal with the consequences later.

The first roll of thunder stopped him in his tracks. A single strand of lightning lit up the dark sky directly overhead. Every other concern left his mind. Survival instinct took over and he hurried as fast as he could on a numb leg to Akira’s cabin. His fist pounded against the door as another round of thunder rumbled, much closer this time.

The door swung open, revealing an angry and half-asleep Akira. “What is it?”

“I suggest calling the rest of the crew to the deck. A storm is coming.”

Akira rubbed the back of his head, suppressing a yawn. “We’ll ride it out, just like any other storm.”

Jisung put his hand against the door, keeping Akira from shutting it. “No. This ship won’t survive if we sit back and do nothing. You need to call the crew.”

Akira angrily threw Jisung’s hand away. “If you’re so concerned, than do something about it yourself. Don’t throw your concerns onto me.”

Jisung stood, mouth agape as Akira slammed the door in his face. He wasn’t able to manage an entire ship on his own. Not when the storm was already so close. Especially not in his condition.

Helplessly, he turned back to the deck. Lightning flashed every few seconds and there wasn’t much of a pause between each blast of thunder.

Jisung had been sailing long enough to know they wouldn’t be coming out of this storm unscathed. A part of him wanted to jump ship before the storm hit, find land and take shelter, leaving Akira and his crew to fend for themselves. But that would also mean leaving Aoi behind. Jisung couldn’t do that. Jungkook would kill him. So instead, he set to work. Using every ounce of strength he had left, he managed to tie down the riggings, secure the sails and ensure everything aboard deck was safe from flying overboard.

The winds shifted as he climbed the rigging, his bad leg dangling beneath him. His arms shook from the strain. Rain began pelting him as he secured the largest of the three sails. His movements were sloppy, and his fingers fumbled with the ropes but he managed to tie them down well enough they should survive the storm.

Sliding back down the ropes, his feet hit the deck just as lightning struck the crows nest, setting the wood aflame. Jisung cursed, hoping the rain would put it out quick enough but the fire had other plans. Despite the rain, it managed to light the sail below it and before Jisung knew what was happening the entire mast was engulfed in hot flames.

Akira appeared outside his cabin then. Jisung could hardly hear over the pounding rain, but he was certain the captain was cursing him out. It wasn’t long after the remainder of the crew stumbled onto the deck, most likely having been awoken by the ever-growing waves.

Despite the imminent danger however, Jisung struggled to keep his focus. Without warning, his vision blurred and all he was able to hear was a sharp ringing in his ears. Disoriented, he attempted to grasp ahold of the situation but the harder he tried, the further from reality he slipped. At some point, Aoi appeared next to him. She kept repeating something, but he couldn’t understand what it was. In a desperate attempt to communicate, she gestured down to his leg.

Frowning, he looked down to find that he was standing in a growing puddle of his own blood. Since his leg had grown numb, he hadn’t realized the wound had opened again.

A giant wave crashed into the side of the ship, lifting it several feet in the air before crashing it back down to the sea. The entire crew was thrown from their feet. Unable to fight against it, Jisung was thrown helplessly over the side, sinking down below the waves. The ship swept over him at an alarming speed, crashing up over another wave.

Jisung pushed his muscles, forcing them to carry him to the surface where I gulped in a deep breath only to be thrown back under. A current, too strong to battle against, swept him up, throwing him in every direction until he became so disoriented, he couldn’t tell which way was up or down.

There was no time to think. The second he was able to, Jisung picked a direction he assumed was up and swam as hard as he could. Arms wrapped around his middle, yanking him back in the opposite direction. His first thought was that the stories Yoongi told of the Kraken were true. He was being dragged to his water death by an eight-legged monster. Fighting with everything he had, he attempted to break free but the force was too strong. He was helpless against his attacker.

He was growing tired. His muscles ached and it wouldn’t be long before his lungs gave out and he would drown. Perhaps it was time to give up. Was it even worth fighting to survive? Would he live past the injuries he’d retained?

His body went limp, allowing the force to drag him freely through the waves. His chances of survival were minimal. It was time to accept that he would not be rejoining his crew.

That’s when his head broke the surface. Gasping in as much air as he could, he shook the water from his eyes and turned to see who his rescuer was. To his surprise, he found Aoi struggling to hold him afloat. Her face was red with exertion as she towed them both toward the bit of land in the distance.

Ignoring the fire burning in his muscles, Jisung shifted in her hold to allow himself to help. He couldn’t contribute much, but he could ease her burden. His heart swelled at the thought of Aoi rescuing him. He’d assumed she wouldn’t care. She had no memory after all. She had no reason to trust him or risk her life to save him like that.

It took every ounce of willpower to remain conscious until they reached land but just as his feet touched the sand, relief settled in at the realization he was alive and his body finally gave into fatigue. Darkness closed in around him and there was no fighting it.

Aoi collapsed onto the sand. Her muscles screaming at her from dragging Jisung up out of the water. The waves still crashed angrily against the shoreline but the worst of the storm seemed to have passed. A bit of morning sun began poking through the clouds as they thinned out. Akira’s ship somehow managed to survive the storm and she watched with regret as it sailed further away. There were still so many questions she needed answers for. Akira was not someone she trusted completely, but she knew he would tell her anything she wanted so long as she agreed to her submission.

Beside her, Jisung groaned in pain. Resting the back of her hand against his forehead, she grimaced at the heat radiating off his skin. He was running a fever. That much was certain and if she didn’t find him help quickly, he would be in serious trouble. Aoi had healed fevers before, but that was back in her own world. Did things work differently here? Healing had never been her gift. She’d only picked up a few skills in order to get a job. Would those skills work here on him?

Cautiously, she attempted to cure his fever with one of the many spells she’d been taught but his condition remained the same. The wound on his leg no longer bled but it oozed a greenish liquid Aoi was certain wasn’t meant to be there. Most likely it was infected and if not treated properly, he could lose his entire leg.

Hovering her hand over his leg, she concentrated until her head hurt but nothing happened. Why wasn’t it working now? Had she lost all her abilities since coming here?

“This is so frustrating!” Digging her fingers into the sand, she clenched her fists as hard as she could.

“Your friend looks a bit ill there,”

The softly spoken words enticed the same reaction from her as if they’d been screamed in her ear. Aoi leapt to her feet, spraying sand in every direction as she did.

The man standing behind her held his hands up innocently. “I won’t hurt you. I’m only here to help. That is, if you need my help. I happen to be a healer myself.”

“You can help him?” Aoi looked the man up and down a few times. He was tall and his skin seemed to radiate a golden glow in the morning sunlight. His friendly smile was the deciding factor in choosing to trust him.

“If you’ll let me.”

“Please, don’t let him die.”

“Don’t worry. Shua is the best healer around. You won’t find another like him. Jungkook really thinks he’s unbeatable with that non-magic-healer of his, but there’s a reason he’s never bested our cap’n. You just can’t beat natural talent like this.”

Aoi jumped, not having noticed the other man with him. He was shorter than the first guy and his hair shone bright pink. The strangest part about his appearance though, was the fact that his eyes matched his hair.

“Chan,” Shua rolled his eyes, “stop bragging and get down here. I’m going to need your help.”

Shooting a wink at Aoi, Chan dropped down next to his friend. “What’s the diagnosis?”

“It’s not good.”

“Wait,” Aoi said, her mind finally catching up with everything that was said, “you know Jungkook?”

“Sure,” Chan shrugged, “doesn’t everyone? He’s only the most feared and well-respected pirate on the seas. Everyone knows his name.”

“But you spoke as if you knew him personally.”

“Chan used to be a part of Jungkook’s crew before he joined ours.” Shua explained. “Our captains have always had a bit of a rival between them. During one of our last skirmishes, Chan was captured by our captain and Jungkook captured one of our men, Jeongin. Instead of fighting over it further, we decided just to accept the trade off.”

“That doesn’t really make much sense. Weren’t you worried about secrets being spilled?”

“Nah,” Chan grinned, his hair and eyes fading to a dark green, “they already know all of our secrets and we know theirs.”

“I’m so confused.”

Shua sighed, “You wouldn’t be the only one.”

“So if you know Jungkook, than maybe you’ll know Akira.”

Both men froze. Shua’s hands hovered over Jisung’s leg as he turned to stare at her. Chan’s hair turned a deep shade of orange. As he stared up at her, his eyes did the same.

“Why would you be looking for Akira?” Shua asked slowly.

“Wasn’t he the one who originally took you away from here?” Chan looked between Shua and Aoi, confusion written plainly across his face.

Aoi hesitated. They reacted to Akira’s name the same way most of Jungkook’s crew had – with fear and trepidation. She’d known Akira for years; worked under him and seen the way he fought to save lives in the hospital. How could someone like that be so feared by these people? No matter which way she looked at it, she couldn’t make it make sense. Was Akira not the person she thought he was?

Rocking back onto his heels, Shua stood. He’d become weary of her, that much was certain. The kind, gentle look he’d given her just moments before had been replaced by one that was cautious and uninviting. “Answer the question. What is it you seek from Akira?”

“Answers,” Aoi answered honestly.

Chan’s hair slowly faded to a deep blue. Aoi had to keep from staring. The frequent changes in color were distracting. She’d heard of gifts like his before – ones which fed off the person’s emotions. If she had to guess, he was able to read the emotions of the people around him, but at the price of his own emotions being openly displayed for everyone to see.

“What sort of answers are you seeking that you must find them with likes of Akira?”

Aoi fought the urge to take several steps back. There had been nothing intimidating about Shua just a moment ago, but fear was slowly taking over her as his suspicion towards her grew. “He is the only person I know after having been dragged through the spaces of time. I’m more than a bit confused and if I’m honest, lost and scared. I need to understand what’s going on. So many different people are telling me who I am and where I should belong. I don’t know who to trust or which way to turn.” She gestured to Jisung, her voice growing louder and more desperate with every word that left her lips. “I saved him from drowning just now because he was the only person I’ve met here who not only was nice to me but has yet to act as if he owns my life. I don’t know who he is, but I couldn’t bear to watch him die.”

Shua took a slow, deep breath, regaining control of his emotions. “I believe you.”

“You do?”

“You would have to be absolutely crazy to come up with a story like that. Besides, you’ve given us no reason not to believe you. I knew Jungkook had been sailing with woman he’d picked up along his voyages, but I’d yet to meet her before she disappeared. If I had to guess, that woman is you.”

Chan’s dark blue hair was proof he still didn’t quite believe her. “Time and space can be a tricky thing to navigate. There is a very good possibility she lost her memory somewhere along the way.”

“My memory is fine, thank you.” Aoi crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Really?” Chan challenged, rising to his feet. At full height he stood eye level with her but that did nothing to make him appear less intimidating. “Why is it then that everyone else seems to know who you are and yet you know no one? If you think about it, it’s far more logical that you’ve lost your memory rather than entire group of people have had their memories altered.”

Aoi wanted desperately to dispute what he was throwing at her, but she couldn’t. Everything he’d said was true and if she were to be honest with herself, she felt as if she knew these people just as well as they claimed to know her.

“Alright, before either of you become too upset over this, let’s get your friend here to the ship. Jihoon will have a better idea of what to do. A fair bit of warning though, Miss. Until we are able to speak with the captain alone, I would advise refraining from speaking about Akira. Avoid his name entirely unless you wish for the entire crew to be at your throat. Akira is a not a name taken to kindly around here.”

Shaking slightly, Aoi nodded.

“Good. Now let’s go meet your boyfriend’s rival, shall we?”

#In Another Life - AU #jungkook fic #han jisung #jungkook #jungkook au #stray kids #jungkook fanfic #bts pirate au #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fan fiction #bts fanfiction

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avengerscompound · 4 years

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The Tower: Family - 1

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1963

Warnings: Sex talk and pregnancy talk on this chapter, smut, angst, pregnancy, mentions of childhood abuse on series.

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family. When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Author’s Note: @fanficwriter013 helped me build this world and helped write the first few chapters. I am forever grateful to her. I love this series and can’t quite seem to let it go.

Chapter 1: Big Plans

It’s strange how a month can feel like both a blink of an eye and an eternity all at once. We returned to Earth and everything got busy all at once. There was work to catch up on. Avengers stuff had piled up. Plus, Steve wanted me to train in case they did need me for end-of-the-world things. There were all the things related to the move back to the Tower. Plus, Tony and I went into wedding planning mode. We wanted to just get it over with quickly but we didn’t just want to head to the county courthouse either. And in the meantime, we all just missed Thor. Knowing he was going to be back for good just made us miss him even more and even with the days feeling too short to fit everything in, the countdown seemed to drag on.

It was good being busy but I was starting to feel the stress. I don’t think Steve was really loving the idea of training me, and I wanted to tell him not to worry about it. That I didn’t want that life. That didn’t seem fair though. I could lift Mjolnir. That meant something. I couldn’t just selfishly sit at home while my family risked their lives. The wedding plans weren’t exactly easy either. We wanted to do it as soon as Thor got back which meant doing everything in two months and just finding a venue alone was hard. Everything was booked and with the need for privacy on top, the ones that weren’t were not ideal. The tower was taking a little longer than expected. I think the stress was getting to me so much I was overthinking everything. Like we’d had too good of a run and now it was going to fall apart. With my new powers, I now had threads that only I could see that connected me to members of my family and told me where they were and if they were okay. I would check them constantly worried that something bad was going to happen. The threads that connected me to Natasha and Wanda seemed to be fraying at the connection to them, and even though when I touched them they seemed content, I kept thinking they were planning to leave us.

“I don’t know, Tony. I like the idea of a private island but every time I call them they’re booked up,” I complained as I sat in his lap and we looked over wedding destinations.

“You’ve been name dropping right? That normally does the trick,” Tony teased as his finger slowly caressed over my stomach.

“Yes,” I admitted. “And I hate it, but still, this is people’s weddings. Even offering to pay to relocate them isn’t working. I swear we could buy an island and we’d have more luck.”

“Alright, so we buy an island,” Tony said. “Richard Branson owns ones. I guess I can too. And we can go there for our anniversary.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Simple, low key wedding it is,” I said as I brought up a website devoted to the buying and selling of islands. There was a surprisingly large number of them and we narrowed it down to an island in the Caribbean with a fully functional hotel, one in the Maldives that seemed close to not being an island anymore but did have a small hotel comprising of bungalows and an island in Belize that had a small compound like structure that would require us hiring staff to run and flying in all the things we needed for our wedding.

“So, I’m going to send these to Nat and Wanda and let them decide,” Tony said and swiped them into little folders with Natasha and Wanda’s name on it. “Don’t you worry though, honey. Our wedding will be small, low key and just us. Then we’ll spend two weeks on the beach while the kids stay with Sam’s sister. And when we get back, the Tower will be ready to move into.”

I hummed and leaned my head back on his shoulder. “It’s going to be so nice.”

He slowly kissed his way along my shoulder to my neck as his hand continued to caress my stomach. “So I’ve been thinking…”

“You’re always doing that,” I teased playfully, turning my head and nosing at his cheek.

“Well, yes,” he said, a little nervously. ��No. Sorta…”

I sat more upright and turned to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I just… We’ve been happy, haven’t we? All of us. Since the kids were born. I really like being a dad.”

I smiled softly and caressed his jaw with my thumb. “Yeah. Really happy. I can feel it now too.”

“I want us to have more,” he said. “Kids that is. I kinda… I want to make one with you.”

I stared at him in disbelief, though I could feel through the thread how much he wanted this and how nervous he was I was going to say no. “Really? You’re sure?”

“You make really pretty babies,” he said.

I smiled and leaned my forehead against his, tears pricking my eyes. “I’d be so happy.”

“Is that a yes?” He asked. “We can make a little Stark/Cooper baby?”

I let out a breath. I wanted this so much. I’d had dreams about getting pregnant again. This time because everyone wanted it. And this time around everyone being excited from the start and having the support I didn’t get the last time. Seeing our family grow more. But I couldn’t agree until I knew I’d get it. I couldn’t go through what I did last time. “We need to talk to the others. That means Thor too. I need for them to agree to having more kids and that they’re okay with both knowing you’re the biological father or if we just have me go off birth control and whatever happens happens.”

Tony nodded and rubbed my back “Okay. It’s okay,” he said. “It’ll be different this time. We’re all here now, El. And if they just want the paternity to be random. I’d be okay with that too. I just… I really love being a dad.”

I nuzzled into his neck, one tear breaking free and running down my cheek. “I love you,” I whispered. “And I do want this. More than anything.”

“I know,” he said, holding me close. “I love you too.”

He held me like that for a little while, just gently rubbing my back, when a large crack of thunder sounded outside and it started bucketing down rain. I sat up suddenly and looked out of the window. “Is it Thor do you think?”

“Gotta be,” Tony said, patting my ass so I’d get up.

I jumped to my feet and the two of us rushed outside. The rain was coming down heavily and Bruce was outside with the kids and the puppies, looking up at the sky. I moved up beside him, still being sheltered by the awning of the house. “Is it him?”

Bruce smiled and looked down at me. He was in his blended form. The one he took most of the time these days. He’d lean into Bruce more in the bedroom or the lab, or Hulk when he was playing outside with Clint and the kids. But mostly he was both at once, working in harmony. “The atmospheric readings are consistent with the Rosenberg Bridge opening.”

To back up Bruce’s words, a huge crash sounded again and a large beam of rainbow-colored light seemed to crash into the ground. When it cleared Thor was standing in the middle of a circle of Celtic knotwork burned into the ground. The twins squealed in delight and ran out into the rain to greet him. Thor smiled and the rain stopped like he’d flicked a switch on it. He scooped them up when they reached him and held them above his head.

“Children!” He boomed.

“Daddy!” They both squealed at once, kicking their legs. He pulled them into a hug and closed his eyes, smiling contentedly as they nuzzled into him. Tony, Bruce, and I approached him and when we got close he put both onto one arm and cradled my jaw with the other.

“Mea Vida,” he hummed and kissed me deeply. I melted into him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“Thor! We didn’t expect you back yet!” Bruce said, smiling.

Thor broke his kiss with me and Bruce leaned down and pecked Thor’s cheek before Tony moved in and did the same. “All is running well on Asgard. I have Heimdall watching over things. He will call me if needed.”

“So this is it?” I asked, looking up at him. “You’re home now?”

He smiled contentedly. “Yes. I’m home.”

“Come on,” Tony said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s get you inside. We have a lot to tell you about. In fact, your timing is perfect. He looked at me with a small smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye. It did feel like a sign. This was the day we would agree to extend our family.

“I misted you,” Pietro said as we made our way back inside with the dogs, dancing around at our feet.

“I missed you too, my darling one,” Thor said, affectionately. “What have you been doing since I saw you last?”

“Umm…” Pietro pondered.

“We pwayed and deys take us pwaces. We did see a schoowl,” Riley explained.

“And I dot my books,” Pietro added.

“Those all sound wonderful,” Thor rumbled and kissed them both on the head, before putting them down. He took a seat on the couch and both the twins and the dogs climbed up into his lap.

“FRIDAY, tell the cook to make a large lunch for everyone and that Thor’s here so whatever they think is normal, double it,” Tony said as he took a seat. “And page the others.”

“Of course,” FRIDAY replied.

“Daddy,” Pietro said as he climbed up onto Thor’s shoulders. “Wiwl Woki come?”

“On occasion, little one,” Thor answered. “Loki has a very important responsibility in Asgard now.”

“Wiwl Mags come?” Riley added.

Thor laughed and ruffled her hair. “No, honey. I’m afraid not. But I will take you back to your homeworld from time-to-time and you will see him.”

I started to get impatient and I ran my fingers through the threads that connected me to the others and tugged on the ones that belonged to Clint, Natasha, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Wanda.

“Did you just pull me?” Clint said, coming into the room.

“I did,” I answered. “Thor’s home!”

Clint grinned and came over, kissing Thor, before flopping on the chair beside him.

“Space husband!” Steve called as he entered the room with Bucky.

“I’m not your space husband any longer. I’m home for good,” Thor said, getting up and greeting the two super-soldiers with a tight hug and a kiss.

“You are!” Wanda squeaked as she entered with Sam.

Thor turned to Sam and Wanda and a large smile broke out on his face as he pulled them into his arms. “You have been busy while I was away,” he said. Wanda looked up at him confused when Natasha finally arrived. “Very busy indeed.”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asked.

“You and Natasha, you’re both with child,” Thor said, looking at the both of them confused. “You didn’t know?”

I looked from Wanda to Nat and the sudden realization that the fraying of the threads was the starting of new ones connected me to the babies they were carrying. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized it sooner.

Natasha looked at Thor with her jaw dropped. “I’m sorry, but I’m what?”

// NEXT

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captainjanegay · 4 years

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Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: I was pondering whether I should leave the dance recital for later or just go with it and I decided that I had no idea how else could this third chapter go, so here it is! I hope you'll like it and as always I wanted to thank you so so much for all the love and kind words :') They all make my heart melt and make me actually excited (even though still anxious) about posting next chapters :') Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, liked or reblogged this fic, it means the world to me ♥

I was worried this one is going to be shorter but I've added some last minute Natasha content because who doesn't love Natasha content? I certainly do. Enjoy and see you all next time ♥

Chapter 3

(4.4k words)

Bucky is nervous. It feels almost as if he is the one who’s going to dance in front of all those people in less than an hour. Although he thinks it would be less anxiety-inducing than watching Alex's performance. It’s not like he doesn’t believe in her. If there’s one thing that Bucky is sure of, it’s that his daughter is talented and brilliant and that she’s going to be amazing. He just knows how important it is to her, so he wants everything to go perfectly. Which is why in the last two minutes he has sent at least four messages to Clint to make sure he won't be late.

Each time Clint told him to fuck off and not be a dick. There’s still over thirty minutes left before the recital starts and objectively Bucky knows Clint would never miss something that’s so important to Alex. It doesn’t stop him from worrying, though.

With a sigh, he slides his phone into his back pocket and looks around the lobby. Not that many people are around yet and Bucky is not that surprised. Besides the parents, there are rarely any other people coming to those things. Sometimes not even all the parents do. Alex probably has the biggest support group even on the smallest events. And Bucky doesn’t even need to drag anyone forcefully. They’re just lucky enough to have plenty of supportive friends in their life and thinking about it makes Bucky really emotional sometimes.

The door opens and Bucky’s eyes skip that way automatically. The man that walks in is tall and blond-haired, dressed in an old-school brown leather jacket and a scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck. He hovers by the door for a few moments and looks a bit lost, scanning the lobby.

“Steve?” Bucky says and the man’s head turns towards him quickly.

When Steve's eyes land on Bucky, a big smile blooms on his face.

“Bucky, hi!” Steve says, walking over to him.

“You came.” Bucky points out with a smile. Steve made it clear on a few occasions that he will, but actually seeing him here is still a bit of a surprise.

“Of course. Didn’t want to let Alex down. Or you, but mostly her,” the sincerity in his voice warms Bucky’s heart. Steve rubs at his neck in a nervous gesture and reaches to his messenger bag. “I’ve actually— You’ve said how important to her it was so I— I’ve made a little something for her, I hope that’s OK?”

Surprised, Bucky looks down and sees that Steve is holding an open folder. Inside, there’s a drawing made with coloured pencils and when Bucky sees it his breath catches.

It shows Alexandra in full ballerina gear, with a big fluffy tutu and a little tiara on her head. There’s a huge smile on her face and her eyes are sparkling in the spotlights. She’s caught mid-pirouette. Even though it’s just a drawing, it’s so dynamic Bucky half expects her to start twirling across the page. Around her there is a confetti of musical notes and roses being thrown her way, some of them scattered on the stage in front of her. It’s so beautiful Bucky’s fingers twitch forward to touch the drawing but he quickly catches himself.

“God, Steve—” he starts but he has no idea what to say next.

“I just— I don’t know, I wanted to have a little gift for her? The dancers are given flowers after their performances, but I— I don’t know, I can just—,” Steve mumbles.

When Bucky finally tears his eyes away from the drawing, he notices that Steve has an honest to God blush on his cheeks and he’s still rubbing his neck in that nervous gesture. A sudden urge to wrap this amazing, kind man in a hug overwhelms Bucky. He manages to stop himself. Instead, he puts his hand on Steve’s bicep and squeezes lightly.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t even— My god, it’s amazing. Alex will go crazy when she sees it. I bet she’s gonna make me hang it somewhere,” Bucky lets out a chuckle. “And I’ll gladly do that, it’s really wonderful.”

A shy smile appears on Steve’s face as he closes the folder and carefully tucks it into his bag. “It’s nothing, just a little drawing.”

“Maybe for you but she’s gonna be over the moon. And I can’t believe that you really came and did this drawing and— You’re amazing, Steve.”

The blush on Steve’s cheeks only deepens. He looks down, refusing to look into Bucky’s eyes and he opens his mouth to say something.

But before he gets the chance, there’s some commotion on the other side of the lobby. When Bucky looks that way, he sees Clint and Scott arguing about something, the former holding a phone in front of his face. Walking calmly behind them are Hope and Cassie, both with similar tired yet fond expressions on their faces.

“Hi guys, you’ve made it!” Bucky greets them with a smile.

“We did! Clint kept rushing us cause apparently you’ve been bugging him for the last hour not to be late,” Hope says giving Bucky an one-armed hug.

“I—,” Bucky stutters. “It wasn’t an hour. Besides I wouldn’t if I knew he was picking you up.”

“Of course it was an hour and of course you would, Barnes. Don’t lie and pretend you're not a crazy person,” Clint says, looking up from the phone.

Clint’s eyes skip from Bucky to Steve, who moved half a step back and is watching the commotion with a polite smile on his face. When Clint looks back at Bucky, he wiggles his eyebrows with an awful smile.

Bucky never wanted to smack him so badly.

“You won’t introduce us?” Clint asks.

Sending him one last hateful look, Bucky glances at Steve, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Here’s Scott, his fiancee Hope and his daughter Cassie. And this idiot is Clint, sorry about him. Guys, this is Steve, a… friend, we’ve met recently.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Steve says with a smile.

“Wait, what Steve? How is James making friends, I didn’t know he could do that?” comes a voice from Clint’s phone, making Bucky groan.

“We’re just as surprised, Nat.”

Clint turns his phone around, showing the screen with Natasha’s slightly glitchy face on it. She quickly scans the new surroundings and her eyebrows shoot up when she notices Steve.

“Oh hello,” she greets with a signature Natasha smile, kind but slightly wolfish and possibly intimidating to strangers. "I'm Natasha."

“Um.” Steve sends a confused glance Bucky’s way, but says. “Nice to meet you too, Natasha. I’m Steve, the new friend. Apparently that's an achievement for Bucky.”

If Bucky felt sympathetic for Steve for being ambushed by his friends, he’s not anymore. Instead, he groans again and ignores the small smirk that Steve sends him and Natasha’s “I like this one!”.

“Can you all just shut up and proceed to the hall, please?” Bucky gestures towards the door across the room. “Since we’re all here already and the show is going to start soon we can as well take our seats already.”

When they don't move, Bucky ushers them forward, waving his arms as if they were a flock of chickens. Sometimes it feels like they are. Eventually, they do move and Bucky sends a small smile towards Steve who hangs back waiting for him.

"So, um—," Steve starts, looking at the small group in front of them before glancing back at Bucky. "Your wife couldn't come?"

Steve's voice is conversational so he seems surprised when Bucky halts to a stop.

"I'm—” Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. "I don't have a wife."

"Oh." Steve looks both confused and embarrassed now. "I'm sorry, I didn't— I just assumed, since Alex mentioned her mum a lot and— sorry."

"Oh no, Bucky's single," Scott says, apparently hearing the little exchange.

"And desperately ready to mingle," Clint prompts helpfully, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

It feels like Bucky has been doing nothing but groaning in distress during the past few minutes. "I'm not desperate—"

"I'm the mum!" comes Natasha's chipper voice from Clint's video call and he kindly turns the phone around. "Not the wife, though. James's too insufferable as anything but a friend. And likes men too much for that."

"Tasha, for fuck's sake," Bucky says loudly, getting a dirty look from some random mum who overhears him.

He pointedly doesn't look at Steve throughout this whole exchange. Why do his friends hate him so much? He doesn't deserve to be treated like this.

"Can we just—" Bucky takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, "not talk about this and to the performance, please. It's starting soon."

It's Hope who stops this madness and decides not to ignore Bucky's obvious discomfort. With a smile directed at both Steve and Bucky, she takes Scott by his elbow and turns him around, pushing Clint slightly towards the hall. They don't object. Bucky has never been more grateful for her.

It's not until a few minutes later when they are all seated in the hall, surrounded by the quiet murmur of different conversations before the show, when Steve leans closer from his seat next to Bucky's.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Steve says quietly.

Bucky chances a look at him. The lightning is dim but the distance between them is small enough for Bucky to make out the dark blush dusting Steve's cheeks.

"It's not your fault my friends are idiots," Bucky jokes to lighten the mood. "Should've worn ya' before I've invited you."

Steve laughs at that. "Still, though. Shouldn't have just assumed things."

"It was a perfectly normal assumption to make." Bucky points out. "Really, don't stress about it. It's all good."

For a moment, Steve doesn't look convinced but eventually he nods and smiles. Bucky reciprocates the gesture. For a moment they just look at each other but their attention is soon drawn towards the front of the room. Some more lights above the stage appear when the owner of the studio walks in with a smile, asking everyone to take a seat. Her introductions are pretty standard and she keeps them short. Soon enough, the main show begins.

It’s really entertaining, even considering the fact that the age of the performers varies between 4 and 12 years old. They’re dancing in many configurations, the smallest dancers mostly in big groups and Bucky smiles the whole time, watching their — sometimes still clumsy but oh so cheery — dancing. Two of the oldest kids perform an amazing pas de deux to the music from Sleeping Beauty. They dance to a lot of contemporary music and loads of Disney songs, to Steve’s great delight. Bucky only shakes his head with a disbelieving smile when he hears Steve singing along to A Whole New World under his breath. Feeling Bucky’s eyes on him, Steve only shrugs and laughs quietly.

Alex is in two group dances and she has her own solo performance. She’s brilliant in all of them. And it’s not just Bucky’s biased opinions, because the hall erupts in loud applause when she finishes her solo with a bow and a huge smile on her face. Watching the concentration on her face, mixed with the absolute joy of dancing makes Bucky teary-eyed and by the end of her last performance he doesn’t even try to stop the tears. All the pride he feels, threatens to tear him apart. He would be the proudest even if she sucked but the fact that she manages to awe everyone in the room makes it all so much better.

After the recital is over, some of the guests leave to wait in the lobby but Bucky and his friends stick around in the hall, moving closer to the stage. Soon enough, Alex bolts from backstage, still in her dress and everything and launches herself into Bucky’s arms.

“You were incredible, my love!" Bucky says, hugging her tight and kissing the side of her face. “I’m so proud of you! You made me cry real tears, you were so beautiful.”

“Thanks, papa,” Alex laughs, leaning away a bit to look at him, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Soon enough, she gets whipped away from Bucky’s embrace by Clint who starts spinning her around the room, both of them shrieking loudly. They earn some disapproving looks by doing that, but they couldn’t care less. Bucky only watches them with a fond smile, laughing and getting emotional again when Alexandra notices the huge bouquet they’ve bought just for her. She talks briefly with Natasha - the video conference was on during the whole performance so even though Nat couldn’t be here in person, she could still watch the whole thing. Natasha apologises for not being there but promises to make it to the next recital that is supposed to happen around New Year’s Eve and she points out how proud she is every two words.

Bucky lets everybody congratulate his little girl and shower her with the love she deserves. He’ll have plenty of time to do that at home. So he takes a step back and stands next to Steve.

Steve, who waits politely, probably not wanting to interrupt as he just watches it all with a smile on his face. But when Alex’s eyes finally land on him, matching big smiles bloom on both of their faces.

“Steve! You came!” Alex exclaims, bouncing closer to where Steve and Bucky are standing.

“Of course I did,” Steve says and he crouches to be on Alex’s eye level. “You were incredible! Thank you so much for inviting me, it was so worth it. And I have a little gift for you.”

Hearing that, Alex starts bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement and she watches as Steve retrieves the drawing. The moment her eyes land on it, she lets out a small gasp. Just like Bucky did before, she moves her hand as if she wants to touch it but stops, afraid to ruin it. When she looks up at Steve, her eyes seem a little watery.

“It’s for me?” she asks and when Steve nods, she carefully takes it from his hands. “I love it! Thank you so much, Steve!”

With that, she wraps her small arms around Steve’s neck. The movement catches Steve off guard, almost enough to make him lose his balance and Bucky laughs at the surprised look Steve sends him.

“You’re so welcome, Alexandra,” Steve says eventually, rubbing her back. “I’m happy you like it. Thank you again for inviting me.”

“Papa, look!” Alex yells, moving away from Steve and proudly showing Bucky the drawing. “It’s me!”

“It is!” Bucky agrees, hugging her close one more time. “It's my wonderful little ballerina!"

***

After the performance, they all decide to go to a restaurant for a celebratory dinner. Steve tries to flee but both Clint and Hope — which comes out as a bit of surprise to Bucky — nag him to join them. He sends a look at Bucky, probably hoping Bucky's gonna back him up.

He doesn't. Instead, both he and Alex send Steve their best puppy dog eyes saying that they'll love if Steve came along. Steve is not able to resist such power.

Bucky's not sure why he insists so hard on Steve coming with them, not really knowing what to expect. It turns out he had nothing to worry about. Steve fits right in with their little group. The evening is very nice and they all feel comfortable in each other's company. Bucky's a bit afraid at the beginning, when Clint starts asking some pretty nosy questions and is being his horrible self. Everyone except Steve has gotten used to it and they know that Clint is the best friend one can have but for some reason, he sometimes hides it quite well. But Steve doesn’t seem to be judging or getting annoyed in any way. Quite the opposite. It also turns out that under all of Steve’s gold-heartedness hides a little asshole with witty comebacks and good-natured jabs at whoever tries to mess with him. He can totally keep up with whatever Clint’s up to at any given moment.

It's enough to say that Clint absolutely loves it.

They don’t stay at the restaurant for too long. They can’t since Alex is tired after all of today’s excitement. She tries very hard to hide it, though. Fortunately for her, Bucky knows her better and he saves her from crossing the line between happy and miserably exhausted. No matter how nice the evening is going so far, they should go. So for the sake of Alex’s pride, Bucky says he’s getting tired and the two of them are probably going to head home. It's not even a lie. Considering he's only 29 and it's not even 10 p.m. it's kind of sad that he really does feel a bit sleepy. Alex tries to protest but it’s weak, which only proves Bucky’s assessment of her energy levels was correct. Of course, everyone else jumps to their feet almost immediately. They exchange hugs and thank-you’s and more congratulations for Alexandra and finally some goodbye’s as they all go in different directions.

The short walk home wakes Alex up a bit. And because it's still her big night, Bucky lets her stay up for a little longer than usually when they finally get home. They cuddle on the couch and watch How to Train Your Dragon together, while sharing a bowl of ice cream. Of course their private little celebrations can’t start until the drawing from Steve is safely put away in Alex's room with promises that Bucky will hang it tomorrow.

About halfway through the movie Alex drifts off to sleep, curled safely on Bucky's lap. He takes a few extra minutes stroking her hair, trying not to think too much about how big she's getting or that soon she won't be so happy about cuddling with her papa anymore. Eventually, Bucky picks her up gently and carries her to her room. He finishes the movie and gets himself an extra scoop of ice cream before he heads to bed.

The next morning Alex almost drags him out of bed, rushes him through breakfast and almost pushes him out of the door. All that because he promised they're gonna shop for things they need to put the portrait from Steve on the wall. Bucky is not even mad. It is a gorgeous piece of art and he's really happy that Alex is so thrilled with it.

A few hours, some drilling and vacuuming tons of dust later, he snaps a picture of the drawing hanging proudly on the wall above the chest of drawers in Alex's bed. He attaches it to a message.

To: Steve Guess who got bullied into an IKEA trip at 10 in the morning on a Saturday just to buy a frame? Saturday, 12:30 A.M.

From: Steve Sorry? :) Saturday, 12:31 A.M.

From: Steve I'm honoured she likes it so much, though. Saturday, 12:32 A.M.

To: Steve I bet you're not sorry at all, you jump out of buildings for fun, you can't be trusted. Saturday, 12:37 A.M.

From: Steve I did NOT jump out of a building, stop saying that! And what happened to "you're amazing, Steve"? Saturday, 12:40 A.M.

To: Steve ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Saturday, 12:41 A.M.

***

After all the emotions from yesterday, Saturday passes in a nice yet uneventful way. Alex falls asleep on her feet at barely half past seven, but it’s no surprise that the tiredness has finally caught up to her. She doesn’t even try to argue when Bucky suggests she should head to bed earlier. After tucking her in, he lays down on the couch for a second, promising himself that he’ll do the dishes before heading to bed. Suddenly, it’s past 10 P.M. and he’s mindlessly watching some late-night reruns of Say Yes to The Dress. He’s not even surprised at this turn of events.

The noise his phone makes blasts in the quiet of the living room, making Bucky jump. He’s in such a rush to turn off the ringing that he drops the phone on his face, accidentally answering the incoming video call.

“Hi, dimwit. Did you just drop your phone on your face again?” He hears Natasha’s amused voice.

“I’ve never dropped a phone on my face in my life, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky answers as he rubs his aching nose that has taken most of the impact.

Natasha only rolls her eyes at that. “My girl already asleep?”

“Yeah, went to bed before 8 p.m. and i bet she’ll sleep in tomorrow. She was positively exhausted today.”

“I’m not even surprised. She deserves some rest though, she was so brilliant last night,” Natasha says with a sad smile. “I hate that I couldn’t be there.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Tasha. She understands,” Bucky tries to convince her. “Besides you’re gonna be here for Christmas, right?”

Natasha is not reassured. She thinks she hides it well enough for Bucky not to notice, but he’s known her for too long. She sighs but then answers with a small smile. “Yeah, I will be home for most of December. I’ll need to go to Cali for a bit, as always, but I should be back for Christmas.”

“That’s great,” Bucky smiles. “We miss you here and you’ll be just in time to see Alex in the Nutcracker, you know that one’s even more important to her.”

“Can’t wait. She’s gonna outmatch me sooner than I’ve expected.”

“She will and I don’t even feel sorry for you. She’s just so incredible. Like with your skills and my brains and also my good looks she’s destined for great things. I feel kind of bad for other kids,” Bucky chuckles but he only half-jokes.

In response he gets a raised eyebrow from Natasha. “I think you’ve meant my skills, my brains and my good looks and your—,” she waves her hand towards him dismissively. “I mean, I’m sure there’s something, we’ll figure it out at some point. Maybe it’s your love for Say Yes to the Dress, who knows.

“I’m—,” Bucky tries to defend himself but the grin on Natasha’s face tells him it’s a lost fight. He didn’t expect Natasha to recognise the background noise of his TV but then — it’s Natasha, so he should have. “You’re so full of shit, Romanoff.”

“I’m not. You are though,” Natasha says and when Bucky sends her a questioning look, she explains with a cheeky smirk. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me you’ve found yourself a new, smoking hot friend!”

“You know what, I don’t have to put up with this, I’m gonna go to bed,” Bucky sighs, but he makes no move to actually hang up.

Natasha only laughs triumphantly. “Oh my, why are you so defensive all of sudden? I didn’t say anything bad, did I?”

“You’re something bad in general, so I’m always prepared. Why are you all so obsessed with Steve? I have to put up with Clint already, so please, leave me alone.”

“We just care about you! And since you’ve been stuck with just us for ages, we’re excited there’s someone new, kind and handsome in your life!” the grin on her face makes Bucky groan out loud. “He seems nice and I hope you’ll be able to get to know him better. In a lot of ways.”

“See? This is exactly what I meant. I can’t believe I’ve been friends with you for so long.”

Another laugh escapes her mouth but her eyes soften when she looks back at him a moment later. “Really, though. You can’t be alone your whole life. And don’t bullshit me saying that you have Alex, you know that’s not my point. You’re just a huge softie who needs someone to make heart eyes at, it’s basically in your blood.”

Bucky chuckles in disbelief, not sure how this conversation got to this point. “What are you even talking about? I’ve known Steve for way too little for you to say all this. I’ve seen him in person twice. Twice, Natasha.”

“I’m not saying it has to be Steve, I know you’ve just met him. It was just a side note, completely unrelated to Steve. If anyone’s making a connection here, it’s you. So maybe you should think about that.” Natasha looks at him pointedly and when Bucky tries to chime in, she doesn’t let him. “Also on a completely unrelated note, Steve seems like a good guy, if you think about dating. And if you think about casual, he’s also smoking hot.”

“You’ve already mentioned that,” Bucky points out. “And you’ve only seen him via video chat.”

“Well, he is and it was clear even through Clint’s shitty camera.”

It’s hard to disagree with that. Even though Natasha is insane and he is not going to date anyone in the near future, let alone Steve whom he barely knows. He can objectively agree that Steve is unfairly attractive, though.

“Before you go all defensive and mean again — I just want you to be happy, James,” Natasha says. “And maybe having around someone who’s not Clint would be good for you.”

Bucky shakes his head with a chuckle. “You might have a point. But dating is not really on my priority list and I don’t think it’s a good time to change that now.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Natasha groans. “I really hope it won’t turn out that our daughter actually inherited your brains, because you’re an idiot.” She takes a deep sigh and changes the topic. “But let’s get to the important things now — is it just me or the dresses he shows this Caroline chick are getting uglier and uglier?”

“Oh God, I know, right? I don’t think I can handle another one of those monstrosities.”

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#stucky #stevebucky #stucky fic #stevebucky fic #stevebucky fanfiction #stucky fanfiction #where i'm meant to be #chapter 3 #i love you all and i wish you a nice day and i hope you like it :')#my writings

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babbushka · 4 years

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Hello darlin'! For this beautiful Sinday I'd love some sweet (and maybe a lil saucy) shenanigans with our boy taking 007 to one of his many hideouts for a weekend and showing his best jewelry creations, letting her pick her favorite, and just being the cutie that he is. Thank you love youuuu

Anonymous said: Thank you for all the writing to come today! I don’t have anything specific, but I’d love it if you could please do Kylo being possessive, protective, or wanting to stake a claim on you lol. Thank you!

(1.6k NSFW; fingering/mirror shenanigans)

You’re grateful for your trained poker face, when he lifts his hands from your eyes. You didn’t know where you were, both in terms of where in this mansion and where in the world, as Kylo had whisked you away abruptly for one of his rest trips that he has begun to steal you for with rapidly increasing occasion.

The room is bulletproof, that much you can tell. Steel walls, and most likely steel flooring underneath the beautifully plush carpeting. The walls themselves are padded with black velvet and designed to resemble that of a museum, with little lights illuminating all sorts of shelves, and the jewelry which is placed proudly on display in them.

He has led you here from his bedroom with boyish excitement and charm, and you had followed, and you are doing your best now to not openly gasp and the glittering array of jewels before you.

“If you brought me here to show off,” You whisper, for any other volume feels inappropriate in the presence of such sheer wealth, “Consider your mission successful.”

Kylo chuckles softly at that as he walks away from you. You don’t know what to touch, where to even look, where to go or what to do, so you just stand there as Kylo goes over to a control panel in the wall.

“Good to know, but no, I’ve got far more sinister plans for you.” He hums playfully, and you try your best to tear your eyes away from the millions of dollars worth of necklaces, bracelets, tiaras, rings, and earrings in this room.

“Oh do tell Kylo, your plans are always quite…involved.” You try your best, but still you fail, because he has just flicked a few switches on the panel.

The switch automated cabinet doors and drawers, and suddenly more jewelry is revealed to you, and you do gasp now, for you were certain you’d never seen such a collection in your entire life – and you’d seen quite a few collections.

It’s not surprising, not really, considering he is a world renowned jeweler. His diamonds are fitted into pieces made for royalty all across the globe, for celebrities, for the ultra rich and famous. They are distinctly opulent, and they are distinctly Kylo Ren. Still, it’s dazzling, the way they refract the light so beautifully, dizzying.

Even more dizzying when he says, “Pick anything.”

You fold your arms across your chest and shake your head in disbelief, eyes wide.

“You can’t mean that.” You protest, but Kylo simply takes a step towards you and smooths his palms up your arms, gives you a very serious look for a moment, looks so deep into your soul that you’re almost afraid of what he’ll find there.

“I never say something I don’t mean.” He replies, before he’s lighthearted once again and walking around the room, arms spread wide in a grand gesture of theatrics. “Anything in this entire room is yours for the taking, should you want it.”

“No.” You say suddenly, an idea of your own forming.

“No?” Kylo frowns, grows shy. You’d never rejected one of his gifts before, and the strange disappointment flits across his face for a moment, but he doesn’t understand your meaning.

“No I don’t mean no no, just, ” You try to explain, “Only let me pick one. And then, if I’m good, perhaps I’ll get to come back again and pick something else.” You bite your lip ever so slightly, hoping he catches on.

Hoping that he hears your words, hears how you don’t want this to be a one and done moment in time, hears how you want him to keep whisking you away, keep stealing you from life’s responsibilities, keep hiding you away on remote islands all for himself. You stare at one another, and he blushes beautifully, all the way to the tips of his ears, because he hears it, he hears you.

“You’re right, of course. Just one, whichever is your favorite.” He replies, and you smile at him meaningfully, before taking a turn around the room.

You can barely bring yourself to touch these gems, for upon closer inspection they’re not just diamonds, but rubies and sapphires, emeralds and pearls, in a cascading range of colors from deep rich tones to just hints of tints and everything in between.

Picking up a piece here or there, you raise it up to your eye, and the way the world splits into facets through it is mesmerizing.

“What are you looking for?” Kylo asks, genuinely curious as he leans casually against the wall by the panel.

“Tracking devices, hidden cameras, microphones – the usual.” You joke, and that elicits an amused hum from him as he makes his way over to where you are, near the section of diamond rings on black velvet posts.

“You’ll find none of that here, I promise.” He asks for your hand, and you give it to him. He picks up a random diamond ring, something simple, nothing too outrageous in design aside from the sheer size of the stones. He slips it easily onto your index finger, and it fits perfectly, like he knew just your size and made it for you. “Nothing but beauty for a beauty.”

He turns you both around to face a mirror, where he tucks himself behind you, rests his chin on your shoulder. Kissing up and down the exposed area of your throat, Kylo molds himself to your body, nothing but warmth and strength, firm muscle.

“You like seeing me in your designs, is that it?” You tease, only in jest, but when he eyes go dark and they glitter the same way these diamonds do, your breath catches in your throat.

“I like the world seeing you in them better.” He replies very seriously, his broad hand skimming up up up your thigh, pushing the mini-skirt of your dress up with it.

“Ah of course.” You let yourself relax in his embrace, as his hand slips past your panties and his fingers immediately dip between your folds. Coaxing out slick from your pussy, they crook inside of you, making you take in a sharp inhale, “I –oh, oh Kylo.”

“One look at this and the entire gala would know where you got it, they’d know I gave it to you special.” Kylo’s fingers are so big and thick, they fill you up deliciously, so well that the hand which bears the diamond ring flies down to hold onto his wrist, keeps him there as you lean back back back against his body.

He holds you tight with his other arm as his fingers thrust slowly in and out of your pussy, nothing but the sound of hot breathing in your ear, nothing but the sound of your moans panting and bouncing against the walls of the room as his massages your clit and makes your knees buckle.

“Tell me Kylo, is that something you want? You want them all to know that I’m special? That I’m yours?” You manage, egging him on, spurring him on. The very thought of it has his hand grinding up against your cunt, has his fingers seeking out your gspot while his thumb rubs at your clit and makes you see stars.

“Are you?” Kylo sucks on your neck, sucks bruises and marks there that claim you as his own, sucks and bites and soothes the sting of pleasure pain with his tongue as he drags moans out of your throat, “Are you mine?”

“I don’t b-belong to anyone – oh yes!” You stammer out, your eyes shut tight and your mouth drops open, and Kylo’s cock is achingly hard in his pressed trousers from the sight of it, from your reflection in the mirror.

He can picture it now, the way you’d look in his bed wearing nothing but his diamonds, the way you’d look descending a grand staircase somewhere in Vienna or Argentina or Australia, the way everyone would stop and turn and stare, knowing that someone had just taken you apart, and that someone was him.

“I know, but if you did, would it be me?” He begs, begs in the way his fingers speed up, the way that he collects your slick and smears it back and forth all across your pussy, fucks it back into you for lubrication, kisses and bites at the shell of your ear as he does, as you grow ever closer to your orgasm.

“If I did, then yes – yes, yes, yes Kylo!” You’re shouting, shouting out your pleasure and relief as you come on his hand, as your body shudders and your knees give out and he has to hold onto you so you don’t fall, his hand leaving your pussy regretfully so he can turn you back around and crush you to his chest.

When Kylo kisses you, you melt into it, melt into the way that you both know that you’re each other’s forever, forever and ever. You kiss until the aftershocks of pleasure disappear, and all you’re left with is the glow of an orgasm that settles deep in your ribs.

You decide that the ring, though randomly selected, is you favorite in the room. You never want to take it off, you want it to live on your index finger for as long as you live, and this makes him happy beyond belief. But it’s time to go now, he tells you, as he sucks off your come from his hand and once clean, uses it to blindfold you as he walks you out of the room.

You’ll be back, you both know, back to this room, this island, wherever you are.

You don’t know where you are, but you are with Kylo Ren, and that is enough.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fluff #james bond au #bond au #summer wine #steeevienicks #cowboy answers

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joshuas · 4 years

Text

christmas spirit

♫ pairing: park jinyoung x reader

♫ genre: slice-of-life, crack, fluff

♫ word count: 2.9k

♫ warnings: Nil of note!

♫ summary: After a disastrous Secret Santa event two years ago, Park Jinyoung and you had carried an intense rivalry throughout the years. Will the christmas spirit be enough to mend your fractured relationship?

♫ a/n: I’m excited to finally post my first Christmas drabble of the month, with none other than Park Jinyoung as my muse. A little forewarning - a lot of these oneshots have at least some crack concept behind it (at my friends’ requests). Enjoy!

“You’re such a Scrooge, Y/N. Purposely working on Christmas? What have you gotten against “unnecessary gathering of extended family to awkwardly talk about what’s happened in your life, and being constantly hounded to get married by family members that you barely know, and exchange presents with people that have probably gotten you the same thing every year”? You barely show any Christmas spirit.” Your friend, Mina, scoffed, watching you get ready for work. “Okay, first of all, that was a direct quote so everything is wrong with what you just said, since it was literally my argument as to why family Christmas gatherings with extended family is dumb, and yes I do! Look at my scarf! It’s red.” You defended. “Christmas colours are red and green.” She rolled her eyes. “What kind of Christmas spirit are you talking about then?” You raised your eyebrows, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh you know. That hallmark Christmas movie magic - random acts of kindness to strangers, carolling, making dinner for someone who doesn’t have anyone to celebrate the holidays with.” She said dreamily. “Yeah, no. That sounds like a lot of effort and requires talking to randoms.” You said disgustedly. “Well then, I dare you to be kind to the first person that enters your workplace, if you’re so deadset against helping out ‘randoms’.” She smirked. “...fine. But joke’s on you. I doubt anyone will be working on Christmas.” You waved your hand dismissively, grabbing your car keys. “We’ll see.” She smiled mischievously.

Work was extremely quiet, as expected. No one had come in, all opting to spend time with their families over actually getting stuff done. With deadlines in place straight after Christmas, you felt it was your duty, as assistant manager, to support your fellow colleagues in actually being able to meet that deadline. Another, more motivating aspect for you, was wiping the smirk off the other assistant manager, Park Jinyoung’s smug face. You hummed, typing away, “That sentence makes no sense.” A voice taunted over your shoulder. You turned, coming face to face with... speak of the devil... Park. Jinyoung. Even saying his name made your nose crinkle in disgust. Being probably one of the most irritating, hopelessly obnoxious perfectionists this world has ever seen, he was constantly getting on your nerves. You opened your mouth, then shut it instantly, remembering what Mina had dared you to do. Biting back a snarky remark, you fixed your face into a placated, polite smile, “Oh. Jinyoung. Are you the only one in today?” Please don’t be. Please don’t be. Tell me at least one person walked through the doors before you. He scoffed, “What? No comeback? I think you’re going soft on me, Y/N. And of course no one’s coming in today. No one’s as much as a workaholic as you.” You raised your eyebrows, “Speak for yourself. I’ve never seen you come in on a holiday. Don’t you usually hang out with your girlfriend or something?” Something flashed in his eyes, before returning to a blank, guarded expression, “I- You know how much I love to one-up you, Y/N. I’m not here for you. I’m here to beat you.” He sat down in his cubicle beside yours, turning on his desktop. “So... how did you know I was here?” You raised your eyebrows questioningly. “Mina told me.” He said without glancing from his computer screen. “I don’t understand how she’s friends with someone like you.” You muttered, typing away at your report. “What?” Jinyoung screwed his face up in annoyance. “I said—“ be nice, Y/N, “I said would you like a coffee? I was going to make some for myself. Tell me how you want yours made.” You internally groaned as he actually considered what you were saying. “I’ve literally never seen you use the coffee machine. Who’s to say that you won’t poison me?” He said dubiously. “I’ve used a coffee machine before. It shouldn’t be too different.” You said defensively. “...Alright, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and say yes — just black coffee for me.” He leaned back against his chair. You reluctantly got up, forcing a nod and a small smile as you entered the break room.

Turns out the machine was a lot more different than the simple maker you had at home. Wasting half an hour on trying to figure out how to turn on the machine itself, you were seconds away from tossing it in the bin as Jinyoung sauntered up to you, reaching from behind you to flick the power switch on. Swallowing back an irritated remark, you gritted your teeth, painfully expressing your gratitude, “Thanks.” “Now, a thank you? What has the world come to? Are you okay?” He placed his hand against your forehead, “Are you sure you should have come into work today?” You delicately plucked his hand away, “As much as I appreciate your concern for my well-being, I’m perfectly fine and should probably be getting back to work.” “But what about the coffee?” He said, puzzled. “You’re obviously more qualified than me to work the coffee machine, so you can make your own!” You flashed him a grin, patting him on the back as you exited the room.

A steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of you, “I figured you probably still wanted a coffee. You like mochas, right?” You looked at him in surprise, slightly touched by the kind gesture, “Oh! Um. Thank you.” You sipped at the coffee, the warm liquid heating your insides. “It’s okay... wow that was weird to say to you... no comment on how bad it was? Whether I poisoned you?” He looked at you quizzically. “Well— it’s not too bad.” You swallowed your pride back down, allowing him just this one compliment.

The two of you had this rivalry as soon as you entered the firm. Being the ones pitted against each other since being interviewed for a position, as you went up the ranks, Jinyoung was always there. You were almost certain that your work colleagues had helped maintain this rivalry, purely for entertainment purposes. At first, the two of you were pretty civil... until your first annual Secret Santa event, where you both had each other.

[2 years ago] ‘...and now I’ve just been rambling. Basically, what I’m trying to ask is... will you go out with me? Who am I kidding, you probably won’t even read this...’ You crossed out the last sentence, adding the finishing touches to your note in Jinyoung’s present. You wrapped it carefully before heading to work, nerves eating away at you as you went over 100 different ways that Jinyoung would react to your confession. Get a grip, Y/N.

“Who do you have for Secret Santa, Jinyoung?” A gaggle of girls (who had an office pool going for who he had) surrounded the guy, hounding him for an answer on who it may be, and what he bought. “You know, asking him who he has basically defeats the purpose of Secret Santa.” You raised your eyebrows at them as they approached you and your colleagues in the courtyard. Jinyoung flashed you a grateful smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as the group of girls dissipated in annoyance. Your stomach fluttered. He was kinda adorable when he smiled. As the gift giving pursued, it soon came your turn. Smoothing down your clothes, you picked up your carefully parcelled gift, placing it carefully in Jinyoung’s arms. Slightly in shock of this revelation, he opened his present, eyes lightening up in excitement as he saw your gift. “Y/N! This— wow. How did you get this?” He gazed at you in wonderment. “Well, a couple of weeks ago you were a little bit upset about missing out on grabbing tickets for a certain author’s book signing. To be honest, it was purely coincidental... I actually really love that series too, and managed to grab tickets. So, I decided to buy you a signed copy of the latest edition.” You explained, blood rushing to your cheeks as everyone gathered around to see his present. He stood up, giving you a quick hug, “Thank you. This is probably the best Christmas gift I’ve gotten.” He whispered in your ear before returning to his seat. “So... Jinyoung, who did you have?” One of your coworkers questioned, looking curiously at the circular shaped present beside him. “Well... I actually had Y/N.” He placed the gift in your hands, his tone slightly laced with nervousness. Curious, you unwrapped the gift to reveal... a stress ball? Not gonna lie, that’s a pretty disappointing gift, considering what you gave him. Your coworkers teased and taunted, “Ooh Jinyoung, are you trying to say something to Y/N?” “What? That they’re a stress head? We all know that. Heck, they should know that.” “Haha... yeah. That’s exactly what I was going for.” Jinyoung said resignedly, trying to scope out your reaction and grab your attention. Dragging your gaze to his, you squeezed the ball, ignoring the unusual hardness within it (great, not only was it a cheap present, it was also faulty?), forcing a small but bitter smile, “Thanks, Jinyoung.” Of course he wasn’t any different to the rest of your toxic colleagues. You ignored the bitterness blossoming in your heart, tears burning in your eyes, as you excused yourself from the courtyard. Mentally cursing yourself as you thought back to what you had written at the end of the book, you prayed he’d never read it. After all, something like that could never happen now. Any feelings you had for Park Jinyoung had been replaced with resentment.

You weren’t one to get too upset over materialistic things like that, but after analysing every other gift he had gotten your fellow coworkers, regardless of the occasion, you felt as though he had been to stingy, perhaps because he disliked you. Perhaps, it also showed how fickle you feelings were for him, but you didn’t care too much about that. And so, the slightly unhealthy rivalry began.

After working solidly for a couple of hours, your stomach grumbled. Jinyoung glanced at you,

“Hungry already?”

Really? He was judging you over your bodily functions? “Of course not.” You turned back to your computer, ignoring further pleas from your stomach. “Y/N. I wasn’t saying that to judge you. I’m hungry too. How about we both head out to the courtyard to take a breather?” He rolled his eyes, and grabbed his lunch, heading for the door, glancing at you expectantly.

The two of you sat in silence on the bench, quietly munching at your food. “Do you remember when we used to do Secret Santa out here?” He asked, glancing at you. “Mhm...” You clenched your jaw. “Your gift still triumphs as the best Christmas I’ve ever gotten. I’ve re-read that book more than any one I own.” He smiled softly, recalling the memory. You almost choked on your sandwich, “You read the book?” “Well... that’s generally what you do when you get a book.” “The whole book?” You pleaded silently for him to answer in the negative. “From cover to cover.” He nodded. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Sensing the silence, he spoke tentatively, “I read your note, as well.” You covered your face with your hands, refusing to interact with him. “...and—“ “And nothing! What you read was just— just an illusion!” You blurted out, about to bolt. “Wait, Y/N. That day. That day was so confusing.” He grabbed your hand lightly, imploring you to sit down again. “Confusing how? As far as I’m concerned, you got me a stress ball for Christmas because I was too much of a stress-head.” Your tone defensive as you crossed your arms. “Wait— so you never found it?” His eyes widened in realisation. “Found what?” You said, annoyed at his cryptic tone. “Do you still have the stress ball?” He asked, impatient. “Yeah, I think it’s in one my desk drawers.” You said uneasily. “Wait here, I’ll grab it.” “But I don’t want you to go through my... okay never mind...” A couple of minutes later, he came back, stress ball... and a knife. You glanced concerningly between the two objects as he cut a square of the stress ball off, taking out a small box. “You seriously couldn’t feel this within it?” He asked incredulously. “Well to be honest, I was more upset at the fact that you got me a stress ball when you got other people better gifts... like how you got Mina the tea set she was vying to get for a while... Also, how? How did you even think of putting a box in there? That’s— I don’t even know. The fact that you think someone would think of getting a knife to cut open a present someone has gifted them astounds me. To me, it just felt like a faulty gift.” You retorted defensively. “Obviously my creativity and quirkiness was lost on you, seeing how you thought I was cheap-skating your present. And, I got you a stress ball because you’re almost always clenching your hands! Yes, you stress, probably a lot more than half the people in this workplace, but I didn’t get you that to make fun of you. Clenching your fists a lot can cause stiffness in your fingers which could lead to rheumatoid arthritis [I’m no medical student but I did some research. Please don’t @ me if I’m wrong!] in the future. I don’t think you want to be paying off medical bills worth ten times the amount of that tea set for physical therapy. Besides, the actual gift is within this box.” He sighed exasperatedly, handing you the box. You opened the lid, revealing the most exquisite looking earrings, the gemstones glimmering under the sunlight. Written underneath the lid was a note, Y/N, I don’t really know where to start with this... but I really like you. Your work ethic constantly astounds me, the way you’re able to complete any task you set your mind to is a quality I wish I had. Not to mention your selflessness and kindness - the way you look out for our team and always go above and beyond what is expected is one of your most admirable qualities. So I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but I’d love to take you out for a date sometime. In fact, meet me at Glow Café at 9am tomorrow morning. I look forward to seeing you there. Whether you see me as a friend or share the same sentiments as me, I’d love your company. — Jinyoung P.S. I hope you like the earrings! I heard that they were your favourite colour :) You looked up at Jinyoung in shock, your heart warmed at the sincerity and kindness of his gift. “I—“ He broke you off, “It looks like we both had the same thing to confess back then. Perhaps if things had turned out differently, we’d be in a different situation to what we’re in now. But hey, we can’t fix the past, but we can change the future. And as much as I adore our banter, I’ve missed talking to you normally without sarcasm.” He held out his hand in a truce. You raised your eyebrows, impressed at his sudden maturity, “Look at you. I guess you’re actually starting to act like an assistant manager for our team. Is the Christmas spirit getting to you or something?” You shook his hand dubiously. “Ha ha. If we’re being completely honest, your sudden kindness did help bring things into perspective for me.” He pointed out. “Really? Wow, the Christmas spirit did get to you.” You laughed. “To be honest, I haven’t really been feeling the Christmas spirit since Yuna broke up with me.” He laughed bitterly. “She broke up with you? Why?” You asked incredulously. “She thinks I’m too much of a a workaholic.” “Welcome to my world...” you sighed. A silence fell over the two of you, as you contemplated in your head. “...So, you’re not spending Christmas with anyone?” He shook his head, looking dejectedly at the ground. Oh whatever. Do it, Y/N. Embrace the Christmas spirit. “Do you want to spend it with me?” You asked tentatively, “as friends. Obviously.” You added quickly. “Are you sure?” He asked, eyes wide. “Dead serious. I’m trying the no sarcasm thing, as you can see.” He laughed, “Okay. I’ll come. As a friend... Do I need to make anything beforehand? Do you need help with cooking? Do you know how to cook? I mean seeing how well you did with the coffee machine, I’m kind of concerned.” He questioned. “Slow down, Gordon Ramsey. Of course I know how to cook. I’m an adult, for God’s sake. And no, you don’t need to bring anything but yourself.” You smiled, standing up. “You speak so much about the Christmas spirit. But this. This is peak hallmark Christmas movie cliche.” He noted, lightly elbowing you. “I guess it is.” You shrugged your shoulders as the two of you went back to work, laughing and chatting away, as friends that had not seen each other in a while. Perhaps it was the Christmas spirit that had brought the two of you closer together. After all, the two of you spent many more Christmas’s together... not just as friends.

✿ masterlist!

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chocolate-parfait · 4 years

Text

Fluff alphabet - ikevamp headcanons (Theodorus Van Gogh)

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Depends tbh

He takes you out to see an art exposition (which basically is kinda like work for him,,, but he still enjoys it nonetheless)

Spends time with you and Vincent!!! If it's sunny then you're probably going to have a picnic in the garden, enjoying the warm rays of the sun as his brother paints

SOMETIMES!!! IF YOU ASK HIM TO!!!! He'll let you come with him and Arthur to the pub

He'd rather you not come bc it's full of drunkards who just want to hit on pretty women and start a fight

But every once in a while it's nice to enjoy a drink with you and his bestfriend although he'll admit it with flushed cheeks

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He loves your determination and your courage even if they might get you in trouble sometimes

He finds it kinda hot when you stand up for him, for Vincent, for artists' rights and all of the like

He also finds you unbearably cute and he loves all your facial expressions, he finds them entertaining and he loves how easy to read you are

He's used to put on the tough guy facade when he's at work but he's extremely grateful that he can let his guard down whenever he's around you or Vincent lmao

Loves. Your. Smell.

You smell super sweet and???? It makes him go crazy???? He'd cover you up in syrup and eat you as if you were a pancake if he could

It's intoxicating tbh

Probably cuz hes a vampire lol

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Whenever you're feeling down he'll take a break from work and stay with you

Cuddle time hell yeah

Holds you as you cry/vent to him

Tones down the teasing A LOT

He tries to be as "kind" as he can although he's still a bit rough sometimes (it's not his fault, he's too used to treating people like dogs)

When you're having a panic attack, he'll be a bit taken aback at first, but then he tries to be as helpful as he can

He gives you some space but at the same time he keeps his big, reassuring hand on your back, tracing soothing circles with his palm as long as the episode lasts

He'll also be hyper aware of your surroundings, searching for anything that could make you feel even worse, and takes you to a secluded place

He's a bit awkward with words when it comes to being kind and to anything that isn't businesses-related, he's more of an action-first-talk-later type of man

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He's so busy he doesn't stop to think about it unless someone actually asks him what his plans with you are

He wants to marry you, that's for sure, so that everyone knows you're his and he is yours

When it comes to kids he wants to wait a bit, he's super busy and honestly he' a tad bit insecure, too (who wouldn't be?)

If it happened "by accident" he'd still be happy of course, but I think he spends so much time and energies on his job that handling kids would be too much for him

So he'll wait for things to calm down a little, he wants to be there for the kids after all

If he knows you really want them though, he'll happily comply

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Dominant

He's so used to being with Vincent (which is rather passive) that he tends to be the leading one in relationships

This doesn't mean he doesn't take into account your feelings and always acts on his own though

He often knows what you're thinking about so he'll act accordingly

He LOVES it when you stand your ground though!!! It's hot 👀👀

Play hard to get and he'll get back at you with twice the teasing

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Your fights with him aren't really angry screams, throwing things at each other or anything like that

They're pretty calm (on the outside)

Usually they happen because of pent up frustration or because he was hiding something from you, taking all the burden himself

When you finally call him out for it, he'll act as if he doesn't know what you're talking about at first, then he just,,, says some theo style mean stuff and that's when you snap

Your reactions change depending on the topic but they can vary from sulking to stomping away in tears

He sighs to himself and gives you some time and space, then he comes to you and you sort it out one way or the other

So basically your fights are just because he doesn't want to burden you too much

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Of course he's grateful

He's grateful that someone as sweet and caring as you fell for him

He's grateful for all the times you worry for him, even if he thinks he doesn't really deserve it

He's grateful for your happy smiles and kind words

He's grateful you acknowledge his passion, his job and most of all you understand his goal and ideals

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Like I previously said, the fact that he usually tends to keep things for himself tend to bring you two to fight

He hides things from you because he doesn't want to worry you more than necessary and he sure as hell doesn't want to put you in danger (especially when it comes to the Academy)

He also doesn't say all the kind words of appreciation he has for you because he wants to appear tough and he's just a tsundere

On certain occasions though, when he truly feels his heart brimming with warmth and love for you, he'll just tell you how much he loves you, how beautiful you are, and every little thing that passes in his mind

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You helped him see things from a different perspective and to take things slower

You also helped him understand that he doesn't necessarily need to put others first and that he doesn't need to suppress his needs to give space to others

On the other hand he showed you how some ideals are worth fighting for and how seXY A MAN CAN BE-

ahah jk....unless...?

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Since he's pretty possessive it's more common to see him jealous than not. Hell, he'd be even jealous about Vincent if you spent too much time with him.

He doesn't really get flustered when he has to say and show that you are his, why do you think he chooses to call you Hondje even when in public huh?

He glares at whoever tries something on you and if they don't give up, he punches them

If you're in a situation in which he can't immediately intervene he just trusts that you won't choose some random guy over him. After it though, he'd want to spend some time with you (either cuddles or something else wink wonk), to let you know that he loves you and that you are the only one love of his heart.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

If he's in the right mood for it he'd be able to make your knees weak in seconds.

His kisses are usually a bit rough and they sometimes involve some pulling and groping here and there.

You first kiss together was actually more tender than what you'd expect from someone like him. It was your first one together and he wanted you to enjoy the experience as much as possible.

Anyways his kisses make your head spin and he always makes sure to leave you wanting for more because,,,, he's a tease

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

In a tsunder-y way

You have to read between the lines tbh and at first you didn't even realize it

It just didn't register and then you're like 👁👄👁what

With flushed cheeks and a frown he just "what, you need me to repeat that, Hondje?" Then he turns a switch flip flip and the situation escalates quickly

"I'll repeat it for as many times you need to hear it. You're the only one I need."

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He doesn't really think about it, it feels so natural for him to be with you that marriage would only change your civic status. You two are already bound for eternity wedding or not.

That doesn't mean he doesn't want to take the big step though, it's still symbolic (the only symbolic thing he actually cares about lol)

He'd totally surprise you with his proposal. It'd be a bit like Jumin's valentine date.

Important day, he's not there because of work/"I have forgotten", actually not it's just a prank, takes you by surprise bc he actually comes home earlier!!!! And he remembers too!!!, you're delightedly surprised, proposal, happy ending

The wedding is quite small, just your friends (he's not inviting anyone from work bc they'd just end up causing a scene because of nOBle PeoPle blAh BlaH tHe AcAdEmY BlaH bLah TheO YoUr DrEAm iS StuPid Blah BlAH BLAh) although Comte insists on paying for everything and putting some grand gala decorations everywhere

Despite this being your wedding this little shit just won't stop teasing you

The reception is 80% sweets (PANCAKES) and 20% actual food = everyone is dying of diabetes

Dressing code: white

Everyone is dressed in white clothes and the decorations are as candid as clouds

Don't ask me why. His wedding card told me so.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Hondje (top 1 of course)

My love (when he's feeling particularly soft)

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He's less snappy and despite his remarks, you can see the h a p p i n e s s in this man's eyes.

It's quite obvious to everyone that he's in love because he's super overprotective all the time

Also, he doesn't directly express his feelings not because he's shy or anything, but because he believes actions count more than words.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He doesn't mind it, although he tries to avoid anything too SCANDALOUS when Vincent's around

He likes holding your hand and slipping an arm around your waist TO MARK THE TERRITORY

He tends to be more pushy with pda when someone's flirting with you, that aside he generally keeps hugs and kisses for when the two of you are alone.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He's a natural persuader and it's pretty amazing how he can twist other people's thoughts and mold them as he pleases

He does this for a living so of course he's good at it

But! it doesn't work with you. You can see through his words and right into his soul, he's powerless when it comes to you

Something that comes in handy though is his quick wit and firmness that grant you stability in moments where you feel at a complete loss. He's the rock you can rely on.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He's a simple person and he likes simple things

He's not really cliché nor goes to great lengths to show you his love for you, he's in the middle

Sometimes though he lets his feelings flow freely without any mean comment nor anything, knowing it's just the two of you.

He knows you're pretty easy to please so even if he takes time off work and/or does a simple little gesture, it means the world to you

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Of course he believes in you!!!

If you ever need them, he'll get in contact with the thousands of connections he has

If you're in a slump he'll give you an encouraging speech and then end it with some teasing remark, loving to see you all fired up for what you love doing

Since you believe so fiercely in him, he doesn't see why he shouldn't return all that support, doubled

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Contrary to Leonardo and Arthur who love a bit more spice in their relationships, seeing how hectic his schedule is, a routine might be more comfortable for him

He enjoys spending his time with you doing calm and relaxing activities like picnics, visiting art galleries or going out for a drink

To him your cute reactions are all the spice he needs

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

More often than not you're pretty easy to read, but sometimes you DO surprise him with your recklessness though

He knows whenever you're feeling down and he'll try to cheer you up with actions more than words (you can't trust him on that front)

Since you have a completely different mindset than his, he might get surprised at the reasons why you're actually upset and if he finds it pretty trivial he'll say something along the lines of "you're upset over that? You dummy."

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

You and Vincent are the most important people of his whole life, and his job is pretty much the reason he's alive

You and Vincent are almost on the same level but he'd never give you up to him,,,, so you miiiight be a more dear to him than his big bro

Everything he does with Vincent he'd do it with you, but it doesn't really work the other way round (if you know what I mean)

Also we're comparing his big brother and his soulmate so,,, of course there are bound to be some differences

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

When he's overworking himself you just drag him off to bed where he lays his head in your lap and falls asleep as you play with his hair

You have such a calming presence that he can't help but relax and feel at ease so you often find him dozing off when the two of you are together

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He loves patting your head

Cuddles time are usually for when he's feeling stressed, you're in a bad mood or for making up after a fight

If the two of you see each other firdt thing in the morning when no one's around he'll give you a kiss on the lips and a warm smile

okay but imagine a kiss from theo im-

Hugs from him are for special occasions

When you don't see each other for some time the first thing he'll do when he sees you is giving you a tight hug

When something dangerous happens and he sees you're safe, he hugs you

Hugs you when you're sleeping too

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

When he's missing you he tries to take his mind off of thoughts of you

He buries himself in work

He stays at the mansion as little as he can, because everything reminds him of you

At night he often goes drinking with Arthur because he can't bear the feeling of the place next to his in bed empty and cold

Let's not talk about the way your pillow emanates your scent :)

It's basically a living hell for him

The first days he does pretty well at hiding the fact that he misses you

Then he starts to get irritated and snaps at everyone

Cue Vincent helping him relax

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Who are we even kidding he'd give his life for you if it ever came to it

Just please don't make him choose between you, Vincent and/or his job

If he had to, he'd probably give up his job but you'd lose big part of him

But on the overall he'd give up anything for those three things

#sometimes i rlly portray him like a dog owner im so sorry #ok u know what i refuse to be a dog now ur the dog theo arf arf #feel like im your cat im your dog nananana i dont wanna be a friend nanananana can i be your pet? nananana #ok im done now #happy birthday theo #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire #theodorus van gogh #my writing #fluff alphabet #ikemen vampire imagines #ikemen vampire scenarios #ikemen vampire headcanons

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soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG179! TTwwwwwTT

- That was such a short statement! As far as Desolation goes, this one really reminded me of MAG107 for the fear of losing what and who’s precious to you (“What part of his life would he have to burn then? What thing he loved would he have to hurl into the flames? The apprehension is as familiar to him as the scent of burning hair. He knows what it means to wait, and see what he has lost.”), having to contribute to that loss, and the loss being always followed by another loss. I really like how it managed to develop its own implacable rhythm through the cycles of repetition becoming shorter and shorter: the succession of losses, the litany of “I got you”, “he had Colin’s back”/“Derek has his back”, “The first time”/“The second time”/“The third time”… stopping with Daisy’s irruption. It really felt like she was breaking an implacable series of routines – though by inflicting worse. I like how Derek and Colin’s relationship managed to indeed feel so deep, intricate and complicated in such a few lines – with the fact that Colin had helped Derek on so many occasions, including to ensure the disappearance of his father’s body (killed in self-defence while he was being abusive?), and… that gratefulness slowly becoming a burden dragging Derek down (taking Colin’s defence, taking the blame for him, losing more and more, sinking and being pushed even deeper by the “bored cop” – Daisy? – who just made things worse because they could). Their relationship being an anchor in both senses: the help to get out of a situation, and the thing pulling you down. It was already evoking Daisy and Basira’s partnership, already reminding us of Daisy’s crimes, and already indirectly coming for Basira’s throat.

It’s interesting that in this domain, Derek never seemed to have the certainty of the identity of the corpses or items he was incinerating? He worried about Tilly when seeing the toys, but it was not stated whether they were hers, and, in the same way, the corpse was never said to be Colin’s (“Derek doesn’t know the man who lies in the cart, lifeless eyes staring at him from a head split in two by a careless shovel-blow”) although it triggered the memories. Given how concrete Derek’s (life)story sounded before getting trapped in this domain (… which seems to be: the furnace of the junkyard where Colin worked, where the body of Derek’s father disappeared), down to his brush with the police, I wonder if these memories were fabricated by the Domain, or if some bits were genuine bits from his past life? We’ve seen some doubt flickering about whether or not Mehreen really had a family in the Vast domain (MAG174), it could be another case of the Fears creating memories to squeeze the most of their victims… but with Derek, we do have the certainty that he had encountered Daisy before the Change and that she had felt that he had “got away”, since she was hunting him…

(I also got hit by the realisation that… this might be the last Desolation statement/story we ever get in the series; 14-15 Fears means that statistically, each would get 2 to 3 statements per season. We might still get another Something related to the Desolation before the end of the show, about Agnes and/or Hill Top Road and/or the Web lighter and/or the fact that Web seems weak to Desolation and/or about the recurring motif of burning down the Archives… but this could have been the last one. It’s even likelier that we won’t get any more Flesh statement/domain after MAG178’s, and I had not realised when that one aired. It’s weird to think “this might be the last time we hear about x”, since the end of the series is approaching?)

- I’m still wondering about the “death” status:

(MAG177) BASIRA: She’s been killing. MARTIN: What? No – no, that can’t be right. I–I thought people weren’t even allowed to die any more. ARCHIVIST: Not permanently, but, uh… Ah.

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: “… Another victim. Another hunt. The pain and terror courses through him. Derek is still aware as she toys with him, pulls bits from his torso and chews them with a hundred sharpened teeth. He is aware, though not, perhaps, alive.”

We’ve seen her butcher this corpse (and she had been awful with the previous ones, too) – are they meant to respawn? To remain stuck in this state, technically “aware” without being alive? (Though: “aware, though not, perhaps, alive” might be a definition which could apply to… everyone trapped in the domains.)

- Still that thing about the sounds, when Jon gives his statements! It’s naturally been growing stronger: he creates his own soundscape when giving a statement, illustrating the main’s victim surroundings… and that soundscape fades away as soon as Jon is done. Is that a new power developing…? Is it because of dream logic, an extension of his role as a sort of story-teller (he’s supposed to make his audience imagine the sounds, and yet the sounds come to illustrate what he’s saying)…? This one was especially curious because we heard Daisy, who was… currently tearing into a body nearby (but not in the same room as Jon), as if she was present.

- AHAHA.

(MAG179) BASIRA: She’s here, then? ARCHIVIST: [SURPRISED] Basira? I… I–I didn’t hear you, uh… BASIRA: No. I figured you wouldn’t when you were… busy.

It sure feels like something screaming “JON HAS A WEAKNESS, AND IT MIGHT BE USED AGAINST HIM SOON”, in the same way as Annabelle highlighting that Jon was now forced to read a statement until its end once he had begun was followed by Jonah using that trick for his ritual ;; We’ve already seen this at work, how Martin had trouble shaking Jon off from giving a statement, in Jude’s domain; since the episode ended with Jon and Martin going off on their own again… Big Fear that at some point, Jon will come back to his surroundings to discover that Martin is just… gone.

After MAG170 (Martin getting lost in the Lonely house), it looked like Jon and Martin were a bit more cautious about getting separated in domains: instead of leaving Jon completely alone, Martin had stayed quite close or right next to him in a few instances (MAG171, MAG176, and MAG172 although Martin ended up wandering off). In the last two episodes, Basira had initially stayed with Martin: was it an additional security for Jon? I wonder what they’ll go back to, starting next episode – if Martin will stay close, or if they’ll go back to Jon doing his thing in his corner.

- ;________; Basira and Jon’s bantering felt… so nice?

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: I thought you were keeping watch. BASIRA: I was. Watched you sneak away. ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. BASIRA: You apologise too much. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] Martin says the same thing…! BASIRA: [CHUCKLING] Like he’s any better!

They felt like they genuinely liked each other again, were able to share things, even with dry teasing? It didn’t feel like Basira was trying to insult him, but rather that they shared the same sense of humour, here and there…

Jon’s FONDNESS when he explained that Martin tells him the same thing still kills me. AND TO BE FAIR, yeah, this season, Jon and Martin have the tendency to spontaneously say “sorry” for various things… a lot. And sometimes, it’s genuine and important “sorry”, or them apologising for something unpleasant they’re doing! But both Jon and Martin do say it a lot. (And displayed it in this episode, even! Martin apologising over Jon’s leg when performing first aid, Jon once again telling Basira that he couldn’t do anything for Daisy, and that he was “sorry” over what had to happen…)

- I really felt like Jon… wanted to spare Basira a bit, by not forcing her to face what Daisy had done to this victim. Is it because Basira had already agreed to look in the previous two cases, and was now ready to kill her? Because Jon’s point had come across, and that he didn’t want to kick Basira while she was already down and there was no need anymore? He had been way harsher towards her in the previous episode:

(MAG177) MARTIN: Wait. Wait, so… so, she’s hunting down criminals? People who she… thinks got away with stuff? BASIRA: … Sure. ARCHIVIST: Really? As simple as that? BASIRA: What’s your point? ARCHIVIST: What, you think he ended up in Wonderland House at random? We’re just going to ignore it, and write him off as a “nasty piece of work”? BASIRA: We don’t have time for this. ARCHIVIST: Then we should make time. You want to hear how he ended up blinding that man? Because it wasn’t a robbery. He was running away from Daisy, lashing out in a panic. The court believed it. But you believed her… BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t. But you can’t hunt a monster that you refuse to see.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Recognise her… BASIRA: … No… I don’t think I do. ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t a question. It was an instruction, we can’t… move on until you do. […] I told you before, we can’t hunt a monster you refuse to see.

(MAG179) BASIRA: … Why didn’t you want me to hear this one? ARCHIVIST: What? BASIRA: You weren’t this cagey about the other ones, meaning you wanted to keep this one secret. ARCHIVIST: U–uhh… Hum… BASIRA: Because this one was Daisy’s victim? ARCHIVIST: … Yes. BASIRA: … Didn’t think you knew what the statement was going to be before it happened? ARCHIVIST: I just had a sense of it. BASIRA: So… what? You thought I’d hear he was a murderer and I’d agree with her? Maybe I’d figure she was doing the apocalypse a favour by taking him out? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know what I thought. BASIRA: Sure. ARCHIVIST: I don’t know, alright! I was… I was worried that if you listened, it might feel like an accusation. A–after everything we’ve already talked about, I–I mean… What good would it do for you to hear? What’s in this one that you don’t already know? People have their reasons for doing wrong? The system hurts everyone? … Just seemed kind of… pointless. BASIRA: Yeah. I guess. ARCHIVIST: [SELF-DEPRECATIVE SCOFF] Honestly, I just wanted to avoid this conversation. […] So… You did hear it, then? BASIRA: Yeah. ARCHIVIST: What, uh… What did you think? Did it… help? BASIRA: With what? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know…! BASIRA: … Me neither.

* So Jon is able to get a sense of what the domain’s statement will be about, before he even starts? Previously, he had known that they were in “Wonderland House” before beginning his statement, but I had the impression he mostly knew what the domain was about – not about… specific victims. It reminds me of what Annabelle had said about him regarding the written statements (MAG147: “I know the summaries have started to confuse you. Where did they come from, when you read a statement fresh? How do you just… sort of know what it’s about, before you even start to read it…?”), and how he had known about the overall subject of Floyd Matharu’s statement before hearing it. Martin only recently called what Jon has been doing in season 5 “make a statement”, and I really wonder if we’ll learn… what Jon is doing exactly, through those, when he overloads and needs to put the stories into words…

* Small things, here and there: in the previous episode, Basira had agreed to open up, had asked Jon for confirmations, had acknowledged that Jon knew the way towards Daisy and that she had to follow him. I like how nuanced it was, from Jon to want to hide this statement from Basira, that he didn’t want to feel like he was “accusing” her by insisting on things Basira had now understood? And how Basira still wants to know why he would do this – is it condescending, is it coming from a place of sympathy, from absolute awkwardness? (And there is something so fragile and precious in the fact that on the one hand, Jon might have wanted to protect Basira from this one; and on the other hand, Basira wanted to know why he would hide from her… but didn’t jump to his throat about it, and mostly wanted to know why?)

* Tiny progress on Jon’s part? Hearing him acknowledge that he didn’t really know his own reasons for wanting to hide this statement from Basira, and that not being treated like a big deal… seems like a tiny step, compared to his Web paranoia from season 4, when Jon was agonising over Beholding and The Web influencing his actions? Doing something and not knowing why, or rationalising afterwards, would usually be pinned on The Web, but it seems like Jon went back to treat it as something natural, that doesn’t need to be inspected further.

* I like how it really feels like Basira isn’t trying to flee anymore? Just… takes it all in, and accepts that Daisy had wronged someone else.

- Aouch, about the mention of the kidnappings ;_;

(MAG179) BASIRA: Should’ve been sneakier, then. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. … Never been my strong suit, has it? BASIRA: How many times have you been kidnapped at this point? ARCHIVIST: That depends if you– … Hm. BASIRA: … Say it. ARCHIVIST: Depends if you count Daisy. [TENSION & BREATHING]

… Because Basira already knew the answer, and used to be much more callous and mean about it in front of Jon:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: Look, I’ve… been where you are. BASIRA: Have you? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I have. Like you’re the only one responsible for everyone, the weight of all their lives on your shoulders: it leads to bad decisions. BASIRA: Yeah, well. When I get myself kidnapped three times in a row, maybe I’ll look to you for advice.

But this episode came after Jon explained how genuinely traumatising Daisy’s kidnapping had been… So it was a bittersweet example of light-hearted banter (Jon and Basira weren’t aggressive! They were joking with each other!) quickly turning sour, accidentally.

- Martin’s Life Is Hard And No One Understands:

(MAG179) [RUNNING FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL, APPROACHING] MARTIN: [SLIGHTLY BREATHLESS] Hey-hey! Hey, she’s– she’s, she’s here! [PANTS] BASIRA: What, what? Now? MARTIN: Yeah–yeah, she just… she just tore into a guy, it was…! [SHAKEN] He was, oh, urgh… ARCHIVIST: Yes, we–we understand, Martin.

… Martin found ANOTHER corpse. Gertrude, Leitner, what’s-left-of-Jonah-though-not-technically-a-corpse-since-Martin-was-supposed-to-kill-him, Noah Thomson in MAG177, now this one… Martin, you corpse-magnet.

- Was it Derek’s, since Jon had just given the statement ending with Daisy tearing into him? Did Jon narrate it as it was happening? There is something very curious about the fact that Daisy could interact with both the domains’ victims and our little group – since she ended up injuring Jon, and was shot by Basira. We also got this with Trevor (who was “prey”, but still shot by Basira, who didn’t belong to that domain). Is it a characteristic of Hunters, able to go through the lines in the same way that they had the ability to kill avatars, before the Change? Martin did collide into people/projections last episode (and apologised for it), so it seems like they can interact with victims and not only avatars in the domains, and I wonder if Jon’s power might help them at some point…

- SOB that Daisy’s hunt was not solely about killing the people she labelled as “criminals who got away”. It was about desecrating them, making it as painful as possible (they’re “aware” of what is happening), and… consumption? (She had gotten thinner and had trouble eating towards the end of season 4, is that an echo of it, a way of trying to compensate…?)

- Second gigantic red flag of the episode:

(MAG179) BASIRA: You didn’t think this was worth mentioning!? ARCHIVIST: I didn’t notice, I was talking to you! BASIRA: Fine, whatever.

… The fact that Jon can get distracted and miss information about his surroundings when he’s focusing on something else. It’s extremely Elias-like (it’s how the Archives team had taken him down in season 3), and absolutely feels like something that could get used against Jon at some point…

- I missed Daisy so much, and the first time we hear her live again, she’s reintroduced through the sounds of her EATING THE CORPSE OF SOMEONE SHE JUST KILLED. Cries cries cries.

(Poor Martin: he was audibly upset by the carnage. Too close to Flesh? I remember how Jon had mentioned that he had trouble looking at pictures, in MAG072’s post-statement.)

- Martin’s small interruption made me wonder…

(MAG179) MARTIN: [SUDDEN GASP] [A WOODEN POLE FALLS OVER] [DAISY PAUSES, SNIFFS THE AIR, THEN RESUMES CONSUMPTION] BASIRA: [HUSHED, ANGRY] The hell was that!? MARTIN: Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! ARCHIVIST: What happened? MARTIN: I–I thought you were about to fire! BASIRA: So you gasped just in case? MARTIN: Look, it’s a tense situation alright? I don’t know what I’m doing here, I’m not a sniper! BASIRA: Goddamnit!

… if this wasn’t him trying to sabotage the operation because he didn’t want Daisy to die ;_; Though I can absolutely believe that he really just… gasped in advance, because he was too tense. (Also, I LIVE for Martin’s rants about how he’s not equipped to face this kind of stuff.)

… However, meanwhile, Jon was… definitely trying to delay the inevitable:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: [HUSHED] Is this a good enough angle? We can try and sneak round to the other side of the furnaces. But… then the smoke wouldn’t cover us– BASIRA: It’s fine. Shut up. I just need to focus. ARCHIVIST: … Alright. […] Basira, are you sure you’re up to this? It doesn’t need to be right now. W–we can always… back off, regroup, w–wait for a better situation, one where she isn’t… elbow deep in some poor sod’s corpse. BASIRA: Don’t do that. ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. MARTIN: What am I missing here? BASIRA: He knows, as well as I do, that the only reason we’re even able to get this close is because she’s busy with a kill. There isn’t going to be a better opportunity. MARTIN: … Now or never then. BASIRA: Yeah. I made her a promise. ARCHIVIST: You need to be certain. BASIRA: I am.

I didn’t feel like Jon thought that Basira wasn’t ready, or that the sight was too unsettling for him to bear… but more like it was Jon himself who wasn’t ready for Daisy to be killed, and didn’t want to admit it? While as for Basira, she clearly had progressed towards that resolution:

(MAG164) MARTIN: What’s Basira going to do? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: She… thinks she’s going to kill Daisy. Like she promised. [STATIC DECREASES] But she’s conflicted. MARTIN: And will she? ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know, th–the future, th–that’s… that’s not something I can see.

(MAG178) BASIRA: [QUIET] … I really am going to have to kill her, aren’t I? ARCHIVIST: There’s no way to bring her back. Not any more. At this point, if I tried to take away her fear… it would destroy her anyway. BASIRA: Am I even going to be able to? ARCHIVIST: Yes. BASIRA: And she stays dead? ARCHIVIST: In this case… yes.

(MAG179) BASIRA: Yeah. I made her a promise. ARCHIVIST: You need to be certain. BASIRA: I am.

(I’m also proud of Martin for immediately asking for clarifications when he was lacking information! … Well, wasn’t exactly the moment to ask, but it’s good that he pointed out, right away, that he was out of the loop. Audience surrogate in action.)

- I lovelovelove TMA’s ability to give tension and also deliver the silliest scenes, while saying so much about its characters:

(MAG179) BASIRA: Would you stop staring at me like that?! ARCHIVIST: Like what? BASIRA: Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see. ARCHIVIST: If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that. [FEASTING SOUNDS STOP] BASIRA: Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy. ARCHIVIST: Is that really so hard to believe? MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Uh… BASIRA: Yeah, Jon. It is. MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys, guys… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] BASIRA: If you have something you want to say god-boy, just say it. MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys… ARCHIVIST: Look. I know it’s hard, and you have your reasons– MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys… ARCHIVIST: –but it is not my fault that you can’t bring yourself– MARTIN: [EXASPERATED, HUSHED] Shut up! Both of you! BASIRA: What? MARTIN: She’s gone! ARCHIVIST: Wait, what? … Oh. Oh no…

* It’s being hammered in pretty heavily that Jon is not looking in Basira’s or Martin’s heads.

* OUFT, Basira was absolutely on edge and it showed: she went back to one of her regular accusations regarding Jon’s powers, dating from season 4… with the same unfairness. Back then, Jon wasn’t really able to control his bits of Knowing; it’s not that he has “decided” to respect people’s privacy nowadays, it’s just that he couldn’t really do that back then, and is doing his best to do it now that he can.

* … And it says so much about Basira that she immediately assumes that someone with power would casually abuse it… given her own relationship with Daisy, and what Daisy used to do, who she used to be.

* I live for Basira’s pet names:

(MAG140) BASIRA: By this point, I just assume the Eyeball tells you.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: I told you, I know everything now, more or less. I can see her. With my, uh… BASIRA: … Magic horrorvision? ARCHIVIST: Sure.

(MAG179) BASIRA: If you have something you want to say god-boy, just say it.

* IT REMINDED ME OF ONE OF MY FAVOURITE SCENES!!!

(MAG113) ARCHIVIST: M–Martin! Stop trying to touch the plastic explosive! MARTIN: Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. MELANIE: Guys… ARCHIVIST: Just put your hands in your pockets, or… something… MARTIN: Look, I said, I said I’m sorry… MELANIE: Guys! ARCHIVIST & MARTIN: What?

Team Archive, a bunch of adorable idiots.

* It was suuuuuch a cliché scene and I loved it to pieces, with special *chef kiss* to the sound of Daisy’s meal stopping, and Martin’s hushed outburst <3

- Overall, I really love how the scene was… almost underwhelming? It was messy and awkward, it wasn’t heroic and grand, it wasn't an iconic showdown with a mythical creature. It was mundane, didn’t even feel supernatural? Just… a big dog having grabbed Jon and not letting him go, and how it was affecting characters – Jon being in pain, Martin in absolute anguish over Jon, Basira still trying, a few last times, to pull Daisy back to reason.

- Oh, Martin… the fact that his reflex was still to worry for Jon and Jon’s safety:

(MAG179) MARTIN: Let him go! BASIRA: Get out the way! ARCHIVIST: Take the shot! MARTIN: No, you’ll hit Jon! ARCHIVIST: Uh, take the shot Basira! … Uh… [STRONGER GROWLS] Basira! Do it! MARTIN: Don’t!

… even though Jon is the least likely to get permanent damage from anything, and this was their only opportunity? Martin ;_;

- Crying a LOT all through it about… Basira’s attempts to bring Daisy back, although she had discussed the theory already (that Jon couldn’t do anything, that she would have to kill her, that Daisy was “happy” in her current state). But it was more difficult to apply in practice, and it’s heartbreaking that Basira couldn’t help but hope that a positive outcome was still possible:

(MAG179) BASIRA: Daisy, stop! Please. ARCHIVIST: [WHIMPER] [DAISY’S SPEECH IS LOW AND GUTTURAL, EXPRESSED WITH DIFFICULTY THROUGH A JAW UNFAMILIAR TO HUMAN WORDS – SOME CONSONANTS ELONGATED, SOME VOWELS SLURRED] DAISY: [AROUND A MOUTHFUL OF ARCHIVIST] … Basiraaa? BASIRA: Oh, god. Daisy… […] She knows who I am! She recognises me. MARTIN: B–Basira! BASIRA: Daisy, come back to us. You can come back. Please… […] Daisy, please… Jon, can you… Can you do anything? DAISY: Basiiira… ARCHIVIST: [BREATHLESS] I’m sorry, I told you, she’s… she’s too deep. I can’t do anything, not without killing her…! BASIRA: [PLEADINGLY] Daisy. It’s me. Come on, please…

And I HATE THAT I COULDN’T HELP BUT HOPE, TOO, GDI!!! Because Daisy was still listening (in a way) to what Basira was saying, since she released Jon, and since we had cases where it had been possible to bring someone back from the clutch of a Fear (Jon had managed to save Martin from The Lonely by making him “see” him, after all), so I couldn’t help but hope for something of the same kind… even though Daisy had been involved in The Hunt for almost her entire life, and had warned that returning to it would mean her end, and that Jon had explained in the previous episode that no, he couldn’t do anything to save her ;_;

- Crying about how even before Basira explained what Daisy was offering, there was a double-meaning in what she was saying:

(MAG179) DAISY: Basiraaa… C–come… Come on… BASIRA: … What? DAISY: Come. Got to… get them! […] DAISY: Partner. C–come. [STATIC RISES, FAINTLY] BASIRA: … Oh. I see. MARTIN: What? BASIRA: She… She wants me to join her. In the Hunt. MARTIN: What…? Could… Is that even possible? BASIRA: … Yes. I can… feel it. In the blood. ARCHIVIST: [WEAKLY] Basira…

Was it “Come on” as in “fulfil your promise and kill me”, or “come to me / kill them with me”? AND IT WAS THE SECOND ONE, GODSDAMNIT!!

- Extremely curious about Basira’s static: was it a trace of Beholding allowing her to know? Was it the call of The Hunt? Did it only happen because of Daisy and Basira’s connection? Did it only happen because they were each other’s “anchor”, in a very twisted and bittersweet way (just like Colin&Derek in the statement, the thing stabilising and saving you… and the think that can also drag you down and under)?

I’m not surprised that Basira had the potential in her to answer the call of The Hunt (down to hearing the Blood): she behaved like a Hunter in season 4 especially, and was on Daisy’s trail for all of this season, after all. But I’m sobbing about how instead of saving Daisy, the other possible outcome would have been for Basira to fall into The Hunt’s clutch, too – that until the end, there was still this echo of Basira and Daisy being “partners”, being identified as such by everyone:

(MAG082) MARTIN: I… I’m making a statement. Isn’t that what you want? My statement? DAISY: No. I just need you to answer the question. MARTIN: Oh. Okay. I mean, y–you wanted a statement last time. About… it was… when I found Gertrude. Or at least your partner did. […] ELIAS: And then they don’t ask any questions, as long as you keep it far away from official police channels. Except your partner leaving has made you sloppy. No notes, no proper interrogations, no back-up of any sort.

(MAG088) MARTIN: Well, I’m sure your partner will find him; I just hope she’s not as– BASIRA: No, I need to find him now! You’re sure you don’t know where she is?

(MAG092) ELIAS: She’s quite the killer, your partner. All in the public good, of course.

(MAG112) BASIRA: How about you? DAISY: Elias is… keeping me busy. Hunting. Takes a while. [FALTERS] I’m used to working… with a partner. … It’s fine. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: It’s fine. BASIRA: Right. … But it’s not, though, is it? […] DAISY: Fine. … Maybe you could ask Elias if you can join me on a case?

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: I think Basira is the same, she’s coming along to back-up Daisy, or so she says. I–I, I don't quite get those two, I suppose. What they’ve done, seeing what they’ve seen… It’s a hell of a bond. The sort of thing I’ve mostly done alone. […] BASIRA: But at least Daisy’s coming along. I mean… I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But… she’s solid. She’s a fixed point. And if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing relative to her. She has no doubts. We go in, we plant bombs, we leave we blow it all to hell. Or, we die. I don’t think I’ll ever have clarity like that. Despite everything she’s done, she’s… she’s still the best partner I ever had.

(MAG142) DAISY: When Basira and I were partners, I’d see this happen sometimes. She can read a… situation like no one I know, always seems to know the right move, but for all her research, she never wants to put a plan together. I think she just hates all the unknowns, the… variables. [SIGH] Contingencies. If she spots an advantage, she’ll… grab it, and trust herself to figure out the details as she goes.

… but in the negative way. When it comes to Basira&Daisy as a relationship, there is something extremely sad in the fact that they never managed to have the willingness to improve and “be better” at the same time: Daisy did it in season 4, when Basira was too obsessed with trying to compensate for her powerlessness and refused to hold Daisy accountable for her past actions; and Basira did it, early in her police career when she first thought about quitting, and in season 5 when she finally acknowledged the damage she had caused or allowed to be caused, when it was too late for Daisy.

I wonder if Daisy, as a beast, wasn’t a concentration of her most toxic traits? We know that she was punishing people whom she identified (pre-Coffin) as criminals that had gotten away. Her last attempt to drag Basira with her in this Hunt really feels… like a last attempt to get back the relationship they had as colleagues and partners? She had mentioned that she missed working with Basira, in season 3 (to the point of considering asking Elias to allow them to work on a case together)…

- ;_; Goodbye, Daisy…

(MAG179) BASIRA: I can’t leave her like this, she’s… always had my back. Always. MARTIN: Basira, don’t, please… DAISY: Partner… Come… [MORE FOOTSTEPS] BASIRA: … Not now. Not after everything. DAISY: [IMPATIENT] Basira, now! BASIRA: I… can’t…! DAISY: Basira! [GUNSHOT] [SNARLING] [TWO MORE GUNSHOTS] [DAISY COLLAPSES, DEAD] [THE DISTANT RUMBLE OF MACHINERY CONTINUES] [SILENCE BUT FOR BREATHS] MARTIN: … Basira, I– BASIRA: Shut up. MARTIN: … I’m sorry, I–I know– BASIRA: [DANGEROUSLY] Shut. Up.

* Same as with Daisy’s “Come on”, I got that doubt about whether was Basira’s “I can’t” meant “I can’t kill her”, or “I can’t join her in The Hunt”…

* Basira’s “she’s always had my back” HURT A LOT after Derek’s statement (“When the police came hassling them, he had Colin’s back. When some little dipshit didn’t show the proper respect, he had Colin’s back. When Colin needed someone by his side for a smash and grab, Derek had his back.”)… but it also demonstrated the difference, beautifully: the fact that Basira was now able to say Stop and No when it was going too far, the fact that she refused to keep being complicit.

* Basira rejecting The Hunt felt, to me, like Martin rejecting The Lonely in the house? They had the opportunity to take an “easier” path, less painful, allowing them to forget about the hurt they had suffered… and chose differently.

- Basira shot once, then twice.

So three shots in total.

Was it Alex’s audio revenge for the “Turns out Gertrude was too much of a badass to die from just a single gunshot” debacle. (=> Three bullets in total, but only one at first, and the other two happened, uh, at some point off-tape.)

- Martin exploding the Swear Budget and taking the lead this season if you don’t count per episode but per occurrences! /o/

(MAG179) BASIRA: I… Sure, just… let him go. [LOW SNARL FROM DAISY, THEN RELEASES THE ARCHIVIST] ARCHIVIST: [COLLAPSES WITH A GRUNT] MARTIN: Oh, Jon! Oh shit, shit–shit–shit! Okay, okay, okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. [MARTIN BEGINS FIRST AID] ARCHIVIST: Ah, ah, ah…! MARTIN: I’m sorry! Sorry! Sorry, you j–, you need to keep pressure on that leg while I, I sort this, hum…

(SOB ABOUT MARTIN’S “I got you”… also paralleling Colin&Derek (“I got you.” That’s what Colin had always said to him when they were kids. And he had always meant it. When Derek needed somewhere to stay when his dad was on the warpath: “I got you.” When Derek needed a little something to take the edge off: “I got you.” When the lifeless body of Derek’s father lay at the bottom of the stairs, limbs folded around the cricket bat he had hit him with: “I got you.”) On so many levels, it really feels like relationships can so easily become twisted and mutually toxic, or pushing people towards worse; the main difference we saw with Jon and Martin is that, meanwhile, they’ve actively communicated and tried to be better for each other, and navigate around principles, but it feels so easy to tip over the line…)

- Crying over Basira hours:

* It was a Desolation domain; the case that got her Sectioned (which stopped her from resigning when she had been thinking about it, and reinforced her ties with Daisy) had been a Desolation incident. (MAG043) Talking about loss, and Basira closing a chapter…

* … The event that directly led her to signing away her freedom to the Institute had been her saving Jon from Daisy (MAG091). When they reunited, out of anger, she said that she regretted having saved Jon back then (MAG177: “I should’ve known, I… I should’ve just let Daisy take you out at the start.”), and yet… she saved him from Daisy once again. This time by killing her.

- CRYING OVER JON HOURS:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: Is it… Is it awful that I wish she’d recognised me? MARTIN: Daisy? ARCHIVIST: Yeah. I mean, she was… We were friends there, sort of, near the end. We went through so much and it just… I wish I could have actually said goodbye. MARTIN: Would it have made you feel any better about any of it? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know. Maybe? It’s hard to know how I feel about… anything these days. [SILENCE] MARTIN: We said our goodbyes to Daisy after the institute. This was just… This was just dealing with all the stuff she left behind. ARCHIVIST: … I suppose.

… I’m not so sure that she hadn’t recognised him. Amongst the three of them, it’s him that Daisy… so she might have been identifying him as “prey/criminal/monster who got away”… ;_;

I’m glad (AND SAD) that Jon acknowledged the fact that they had grown close in season 4, THAT THEY WERE “FRIENDS”, and heartbroken that he… is indeed hit by the lack of closure.

But what about Basira? True, Daisy “recognised” her, but it was… to try and drag her along into her monstrous life. As far as last words go, Basira did get a kind of goodbye, however:

(MAG158) DAISY: [PANTING] Mm, Basira… When this is over, you need to find me… and kill me. Promise me. BASIRA: No. No, Daisy, we’ll figure something out! NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] You can’t hide forever, Jon. DAISY: [PANTING] These last months, I… it was always borrowed time. Can’t outrun it forever. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: [PANTING] Promise me. BASIRA: … I promise. DAISY: Thanks. [BREATHLESS] Now, run…! BASIRA: Daisy…! DAISY: [GROWLING] Run!

Compared to Jon:

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: What…? No! I– BASIRA: Don’t argue, just go. NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] Jooo–oooon~? ARCHIVIST: … Fine. Just don’t die. DAISY: Go.

… Or even worse, Martin:

(MAG144) MARTIN: Just leave. DAISY: Sorry? MARTIN: [INHALE] Get out. DAISY: Oh. Right. Sorry, I didn’t– MARTIN: It’s not difficult! Just get out! DAISY: Fine. … Fine. Just thought you– MARTIN: No! No, you didn’t! [DOOR OPENS] We’re not… we’re not friends, Daisy! None of us are! We’re all just trapped together, here, and–and kidding ourselves that we don’t hate it! Christ, there are more important things than, than “feelings”– DAISY: [INCREDULOUS EXHALE] MARTIN: –right now, all right, so just… leave me alone! For good! [SILENCE PUNCTUATED BY AGGRESSIVE WRITING] DAISY: … Right. You got it.

I mean. Martin and Daisy only had One Good ConversationTM, but Martin. Martin, please. It was blatantly to protect Daisy from Peter, but your last words to her had basically been telling her to fork off.

- I feel like Martin might be trying to compartmentalise now but about to shatter soon, because… he had mentioned being happy at the prospect of “helping” their “friends” back in MAG175. I agree that in Daisy’s case, helping and leading Basira to fulfil her promise was the best they could hope for, but it’s still… absolutely grim. Since they left the cabin, they’ve not helped victims, not even children, they’ve discovered that Jon’s powers were incredibly powerful but also making him “worse”, they’ve helped Basira to kill Daisy and… that’s it. Jon had told Martin that there was no “better” in this world, and it’s hard to disagree, with how things are right now.

Is Martin still firmly believing that the Institute will be different, that they can do something to help? Or will he grow a bit more desperate? Susceptible to Annabelle’s call, or to try to contact her to accept her “help” because he feels like their options are dwindling…?

- Oh, about Jon getting patched up…

(MAG179) [A BAG IS UNZIPPED] MARTIN: Come on. I need to patch that leg up properly, the last thing we need is a limp slowing us down. ARCHIVIST: [GRUNTS AND GASPS] MARTIN: Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something. ARCHIVIST: [DISTRACTED] Hmm? No, they’re, they’re fine. MARTIN: I’d forgotten we had them to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here…! ARCHIVIST: [DRY CHUCKLE]

* ;_; Parallel to their first “heart-to-heart talk”, in MAG039: when Jon had been wormed, specifically in his leg, and Sasha and Martin took care of it…

* Martin remembers the not!tea from the trailer, uh. (He was also the only one to read a statement involving snakes-like spooky creatures!)

* … Martin, that’s a lot of thread-like things you’re carrying or mentioning this season:

(MAG162) MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps.

(MAG178) MARTIN: … Yeah. I guess. [INHALE, EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] God, I hate all of these… loose ends…! ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck.

(MAG179) MARTIN: Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something. […] I’d forgotten we had them to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here…!

This is how Web!Martin can still w-

(Though, genuinely, I’m a bit… suspicious that Martin hadn’t mentioned them until now and had “forgotten” he had them, and that Jon was ~distracted~ when he was talking about them? Had Martin really packed them before they left the cabin, or is that something he packed later during the journey, without noticing, such as when he was in the Web domain…?)

- THIRD big red flag regarding Jon’s powers in the episode:

(MAG179) MARTIN: I, I was starting to think I’d never need them. I’m surprised she could hurt you at all…! ARCHIVIST: Yes, that… came as a bit of a shock to me as well, actually…! MARTIN: You didn’t know? ARCHIVIST: I didn’t think to check, just, sort of… assumed it was safe. MARTIN: That’s a pretty big assumption, Jon! ARCHIVIST: Hmm, apparently. I mean, I know it sounds strange but it… it… felt right for Daisy to be able to hurt me. MARTIN: Dream logic again? ARCHIVIST: Mmm. The… “resonances” from our relationship before the Change carried over and– Ah! Ah…! MARTIN: Hold still.

… A clear limitation in his pseudo-omniscience/all-knowledge is that he can… still assume (incorrect) things. That’s pretty big, as far as his knowledge goes: this means he has to actively think about checking things before they happen. What more may have gone under his radar already…?

* I’m not sure specifically why Daisy was able to hurt him. Jon had explained that:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.

Was it because she had hurt him so deeply in the forest, reviving that pain? Was it because they used to be friends, and Jon knew he was going to lose her, and only people Jon cares about can hurt him? Was it because of the mix of trauma&friendship, specific to her, that Daisy was bring with her?

* SOB over the fact that Daisy hurt him AGAIN… and had given him his Hunt mark in the forest… It wasn’t the first time they had interacted, but…

* Given the amount of things that run on dream-logic, and given how the Fears interact with their victims, it really feels like humans are both subjected to the Fears and shaping the world, themselves? I wonder if they’ll get some agency back through “feels right” logic, or if even that would get denied since, well, the Dread Powers work through pain and suffering, not… to help in anything.

* … Martin, please, was it accidental or did you squeeze hard because Jon was mentioning having an Important Relationship with someone else. (MARTIN BLEASE…)

- ;_; I’m not extremely surprised by Basira closing up and needing to do her mourning/to find her closure on her own… but it still breaks my heart so much, in the way she alternated between trying to be firm and dry, and pleading:

(MAG179) BASIRA: I’m… going to stay here. Burn the body. ARCHIVIST: Of course, we can wait. I still need to, uh… BASIRA: No. You go on. I’ll make my own way to London. [A BAG IS ZIPPED] MARTIN: … What? N–no, don’t be daft, it’s not a problem for us to wait while you deal with this! BASIRA: Please. Just go. MARTIN: … Wait… Seriously? ARCHIVIST: Basira, if you travel on your own, if you’re not with us, I… can’t guarantee your safety. BASIRA: Good. MARTIN: Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone. BASIRA: It’s just… something I have to do. … You said follow the tower, right? ARCHIVIST: Right. MARTIN: No, no, this is ridiculous, you could die! BASIRA: I’ll do my best not to. MARTIN: This isn’t a joke, Basira! ARCHIVIST: Martin, this is what she needs. MARTIN: No, no! I–it’s…! BASIRA: It’ll… MARTIN: It’s completely– BASIRA: It’ll help me. All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. […] [SOFTLY] Martin. Please. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … [SIGH] You’d better look after yourself. BASIRA: I will. ARCHIVIST: [GENTLY] Come on. [FOOTSTEPS] [INHALE] For what it’s worth… I’m sorry it had to work out like this. BASIRA: … I’m not.

* Confirmation that Jon seems to have been protecting Martin and her from the domains’ influence so far, as long as they stayed close to him?

* “Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone.” => mix of “who’s talking.” and “MARTIN. HAS. LEARNED!” (It’s what he did all through season 4 ;w; He knows that from personal experience…)

* I’M HAVING FEELINGS over that tiny Martin-Basira soft moment… gosh… (I’m remembering how Basira had been very cautious and defensive of Martin when she had explained to Jon that Martin had had a bad time… because he had lost his mother, at the beginning of season 4, and how she had clearly seen that it had impacted him… She was often harsh towards him, but she wasn’t heartless…)

* So Panopstitute is now a shared goal AND the point where they will supposedly meet up.

* Overall: I want to believe that Basira will be okay on her own journey, aaaaaaaaaah ;_; Clearly in pain, but I want to hope that she’ll be fine on her own, and getting a bit better…

* Proud of Jon for explicitly asking Basira’s permission to watch/know about her ;_; Consent! (And he’s worried, too!)

* I wonder if Jon’s leg was truly healing, as he claimed, since we didn’t hear static that would suggest a supernatural healing speed? It is truly getting better, or is he hiding the pain and injury since they have to leave now? (… Given the overall dream logic, I would almost expect the injury to not heal as long as Jon doesn’t truly process Daisy’s death, but we’ll see.)

* Sob for how Basira&Jon joked about his apologising too much… and the episode ended with Jon apologising over what had happened.

- H… Hey… Daisy was officially an Archival Assistant since season 4, since she had signed the contract in order to get rid of the dreams… So the curse of “one Assistant dies every odd-numbered season” has already been fulfilled, right…? So there doesn’t need to be any more death in the team this season, right? So there won’t be another Assistant death ever, unless Jonny writes a season 7, RIGHT…?

- Goodbye Daisy ;_; You were amazing in season 4, I couldn’t help but still cross fingers that there was a sliver of hope to get you back once again, and I’m SAD for you (and for Basira), and I hope that you can finally “listen to the quiet” again ;___;

Time to relisten to season 4 and think about you making Jon listen to The Archers.

I’m TwwwwT super sad (in a good way) about Jon lamenting that he would have liked to be able to say his goodbyes to Daisy, and acknowledging that they had been close (“FRIENDS”!!!), kinda hoping that the page is not turned (and-then-we-never-talked-about-Daisy-ever-again) but that instead the loss will cling to them a bit and that there will be Sadness about it. It’s… still a death, it’s still a loss, it’s still something that hurt and stung! ;w;

- … I feel like there might have been some implication contained within the fact that they agreed to kill Daisy in the current circumstances…? Jon said that he couldn’t do anything for her anymore because she was “too deep” in; but they chose to do it now, meaning that… she couldn’t have got better when/if they manage to turn the world back and stop the apocalypse. So either they’ve slowly grown accustomed to thinking that the world can’t get better, either… Daisy wouldn’t have survived anyway if the world were to be “fixed” and freed from the clutch of the Fears. So what does that mean about Jon, who is absolutely deep into Beholding? What would happen to Jon, the Archivist, the Archive, if the world was to be saved? Could he survive a Change Back, or would he just disappear like the Fears?

(- For once, I’m actually a bit surprised at the title since… “Accomplice” worked for the statement, it worked for Basira&Daisy’s relationship as it used to be, but it wasn’t really applying to Basira anymore – this is precisely the episode where she definitely refused to go back to being an “accomplice”. “Partner(s)” had been the word characteristic of Daisy&Basira’s relationship and would have been the title I would have expected for this episode, given their dynamic.

… So instead, it makes me whimp out the red string, and consider that the “accomplice(s)” might not have been the obvious ones. Can’t help but *SQUINT* at Martin this episode, because:

* We know that Basira and Martin talked about something in MAG178 when Jon was giving his statement, and we don’t know the details of it.

(MAG178) MARTIN: –I know, I know you find it hard whe– … Done already? ARCHIVIST: Yes. […] MARTIN: I was just… giving Basira some advice. ARCHIVIST: [GOOD-NATURED] Avatars are from Mars and humans are from Venus, that sort of thing? MARTIN: [TINY CHUCKLE] I mean… yeah? Sort of? ARCHIVIST: [BRIEF CHUCKLE] MARTIN: Well, w–we were pretty much done anyway.

(And in the same way: we don’t know for sure what happened to Martin when he ended up wandering off into The Web’s domain in MAG172. Did he tell Jon the whole story about it? Or did something happen that he managed to hide?)

* Last few episodes have been extremely insistent in reminding us that Jon is making active efforts to not look into Basira’s and Martin’s heads at all:

(MAG177) BASIRA: … What’s it like? Being with someone who can see the inside of your head? MARTIN: Hm? Oh! Oh no, he doesn’t. I told him not to, and so he tries to… look away? BASIRA: And you trust him to do that. MARTIN: [DECISIVE] Yes. I do. […] BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Yes. [INHALE] Talking about me? BASIRA: … I assume that’s a rhetorical question. ARCHIVIST: I am trying to keep my powers to myself.

(MAG179) BASIRA: I am. [BASIRA TAKES AIM AGAIN, HESITATES AGAIN] Would you stop staring at me like that?! ARCHIVIST: Like what? BASIRA: Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see. ARCHIVIST: If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that. [FEASTING SOUNDS STOP] BASIRA: Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy. ARCHIVIST: Is that really so hard to believe? […] BASIRA: All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. ARCHIVIST: So, you won’t mind if I check up on you sometimes? BASIRA: If you must! But don’t overdo it. I don’t like being watched. ARCHIVIST: Understood.

* Martin was mostly fine about the concept of betraying the trust of someone you like and care for, as long as it’s in ~their best interest~:

(MAG176) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] I don’t like betraying someone’s trust like this. MARTIN: It’s not a betrayal if you’re doing it to help. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I’m not so sure…! MARTIN: Look, if it was me in her shoes, I’m sure I’d forgive you. It–it’s for the best!

* Jon’s joke about “Methinks the Spider doth protest too much…!” (MAG167) when Martin asked him not to look inside his head… reminds me of the way the gang managed to convince Elias that it was in his best interest for Martin not to come along to the Unknowing, in MAG116: Martin’s offense and protests were staged in order to make it pass as innocuous that he would stay behind at the Institute; Jon asked for Martin to stay, but they needed Elias to feel like it was partly his own decision, hence Martin’s protests. Back then, we didn’t know that Elias had made a bet with Peter (so it’s unclear whether he was factoring in Jon potentially dying and his need for a back-up, or if it was mostly motivated by the fact that Martin had to stay alive in order to set up Jon’s Lonely mark), but the situation still is very reminiscent of the end of MAG179: character A makes a decision, Martin protests and tries to argue, until character B steps in to validate A and Martin has to agree with the others… about something that was A’s and his plan from the start. It’s basically Martin’s modus operandi, that he also used to make Elias focus in him in MAG118 (spilling his frustrations and pains) and to keep Peter’s attention on him during season 4 (genuinely wanting to stop The Extinction, being susceptible to The Lonely, but not wanting to serve Peter’s plans). Always mixing his genuine feelings in with some deception, to hide his endgame intentions.

… So what if, in the same way, Basira&Martin’s little opposition here had been staged because they needed Basira to be out of Jon’s radar for a while, and for Jon to feel like that was natural…?

(Obligatory disclaimer: I don’t believe that Martin is secretly evil or working against Jon; if Martin is currently plotting something, I really think it would because he needs Jon to not know about it (because of Jon’s status as the lynchpin of the apocalypse and The Eye’s favourite), and/or because it will require Martin to take risks and he knows that Jon would protest that. Overall, it’s surprising that, for now, Martin doesn’t explicitly have a plan – he’s been following Jon and seems to be focusing all his hopes on the Panopticon – while he used to be planning and scheming so easily before. So what if there was actually something currently in progress, in the blind spot of Jon’s vision and near-omniscience…?))

- Anyway, the points that Jon is not looking into Basira’s nor Martin’s heads, that he is distracted when talking with someone or giving a statement (… really reminiscent of Basira in season 3 explaining how Elias wasn’t able to focus on anyone and anything else when using his powers to traumatise Melanie, uh…), and that he can assume things that end up working out differently (so can think erroneously as long as he hasn’t thought to Know about it and asked the good questions to his pool of knowledge)… definitely feel like something about this is going to come back to bite them in the ass later. ;;

I have HIGH HOPES for EMOTIONAL PAIN with MAG180’s title! =D I’m thinking about grief and mourning – could be the occasion to get an episode a bit like MAG167, Jon “giving the statement” of people from before the Change? Maybe not even solely about Daisy, but about all the assistants&friends (Sasha, Tim, Gerry, Daisy) they have lost since signing up for the Archives? Or Jon and Martin thinking about the kind of internal/emotional/psychological journey they have to accomplish in order to reach the Panopticon, whether or not there is something preventing them from reaching it, in the same way that Basira had to face Daisy’s crimes and “see the monster” to be able to catch up to her?

If there is a domain: Vast and Buried could work in a very physical sense, End could fit too…

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #mag179 #tma season 5 #the magnus archives #tma liveblog #long post/#tma spoilers/

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thewriterey · 4 years

Text

If You Hadn’t Gone (Stucky x Reader)

Hi! I wrote this for my friend @larkboyd, sole provider of Stucky on my dashboard.

Uhhhhhh I’m not really in this fandom, but I can relate to feeling a lill crappy and just wanting to be sandwiched between two beefcakes. Besides, I had a dream a couple of nights ago about these specific men for some reason (seriously, like I said, I’m not even IN THE FANDOM. How does this even happen???). Steve was making nachos for me and Bucky was just slow dancing with me in the kitchen. So. That’s all this little ficlet is, really. Idk. Also I’ve never written in this perspective, I just DON’T KNOW WHY I DO THE THINGS I DO ANYMORE OKAY. Anyway.

Title is a line translated from a song they play in the movie y tu mamá también because !!! that dance scene, amiright?

Hope you enjoy c:

Words: 1318, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandom: Captain America / Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: All Ages

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Categories: M/M/F

Characters: You, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Relationships: Established Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, You/Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Additional Tags: bad breakup with an unnamed asshole, hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic au, beginning of an m/m/f relationship, (but idk that’s not really clear and mostly just in my head, I might never write another word for this again, just wanted to put this out there)

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You’ve never been one to cry over a man. It hasn’t happened once in the past. Sure, previous break-ups were awful, but you’d always known these men weren’t permanent. Besides, you have always been perfectly happy when you were on your own.

This time, however, it feels like someone has punched you in the stomach and won’t quit twisting their fist around. You really thought he’d be the one, he had been talking about engagement not three days ago. It hurts something fierce, and all you can really do is sob uncontrollably.

At first, the best idea seemed to be to just get a tub of chocolate ice-cream and order some take-out, but the weather was getting colder and although autumn was usually one of your favourite seasons this time the rain and the wind outside made you feel all sorts of cold.

I just don’t want to be alone tonight.

It’s the one phrase that’s on repeat in your head. But the task of reaching out to one of your friends and ask them to come over seemed impossible to complete today.

The only solution seems to be to curl up on the sofa and put on a random show on Netflix that you’ll only half watch between bouts of wondering where it all went wrong and why you feel the way you feel right now.

A loud noise startles you. Someone is knocking at the window. Confused, you look up and try to find a clock. It’s just about 7 PM, it’s getting dark outside. The screen of the TV asks if you’re still watching, as if it’s aware that you’ve cried yourself to sleep a few hours prior.

You huff and by pressing a singular button on the remote your turn the TV with its mocking message off.

Leave me alone, I don’t need your judgment, too, stupid piece of garbage.

Then there is another knock at the window. It must be the food delivery guy. You quickly wipe away the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath. Five seconds of human interaction will be tough, but so are you and you can definitely handle that.

When you open the door, you remember you didn’t actually order any food yet.

It’s not the pizza delivery guy you thought it would be. It’s your friend, Steve. He smiles at you, as you stand there, dumbfounded.

What is he doing here?

“Hey, you didn’t show for dinner and didn’t respond to mine or Bucky’s texts, are you alright?”

Shit. Friday night. Movie night. How could you forget?

Five seconds have passed, and you’re not certain you can manage any more of this human interaction without crying again. The look on his face shifts as he can see you’re struggling.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

He steps into your personal space and wraps his arms around you, as you bury your face in his shirt and start crying.

“He broke up with me, Steve,” you manage to say. “Last week he was talking about engagement and now he never wants to see me again.”

He ushers you inside and closes the door behind him, saving you from the cold outside.

“Shhhhhh,” he says, whilst softly stroking your back. You stand there for a while. He keeps making shushing noises, keeps softly petting your back, until you calm down a little. You feel a bit embarrassed for crying in front of him, but also realise that if you would feel comfortable with crying in front of anyone, it would be him. He never judges you, he’s always right there when you need him, and he always manages to make you smile. Although that might seem like too much of a task even for him, today.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” he asks.

“No,” you say.

“Then I’m calling Bucky and we’ll make you something, is that alright?”

Right. Because then there’s yet another person to see you cry and be miserable.

But as you feel his arms wrapped around your torso, you realise that at this point in time, being alone would be worse. And of all the people you consider your friends, Bucky and Steve are probably the people you feel the most at ease with.

“Yeah, that’s alright,” you say, feeling very small. “I’m just. I’m going to cry a lot though.”

Steve laughs. It’s more of a low rumble, coming from deep inside his chest. “That’s perfectly alright, cry as much as you want. We’ll be here.”

When you exit the bathroom, you can hear music coming from the kitchen. Bucky has arrived, then.

The shower has done you good. The hot water is always able to soothe any aches and pains, and it seems that holds true for heartaches. As you look at your closet, you can see a yellow summer dress hanging on the rack, just barely peeking around the corner.

Summer is over, and there hadn’t been an occasion to wear it. But the house is warm and the dress looks comfortable enough, and besides, dressing up always makes you feel better. It isn’t a hard decision to make.

When you enter the kitchen, the first thing you hear is an appreciative whistle. You start blushing, but have no time to really feel embarrassed about it, as Bucky wraps his arms around you in a big bear hug.

“You look lovely, sweetheart,” he says. You wrap your arms around him a little tighter. If you linger a little longer in his hug to hide the deep blush on your face, that’s between you and yourself.

“What are you making?” you ask, when you finally let go of the loving embrace of your friend.

“Steve is making nachos, and he isn’t allowing me anywhere near them,” Bucky says, sounding a little disgruntled.

“Hey, who burned them last time? I’m doing us all a favour.”

“Come on, that was one time.”

“Who burns nachos? It’s like, the easiest food to make. Period.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at you and makes a mocking face at Steve. You can’t help yourself and you have to hide a giggle behind your hands. Bucky’s eyes light up and he smiles at you brilliantly.

“Guess I’ll need to find something else to do in the meantime, then,” Bucky says.

The song changes, and all of a sudden the air turns soft, the music sounds sweeter. Before you know it, you feel Bucky clasp your hand in his as he wraps his other arm around your waist. There is no time to protest, and frankly, you’re not so sure that you even want to fight it.

He sways you slowly from the left to the right, following the rhythm of the music, as he hums along with the melody. Steve turns around for a moment, then smiles, and turns back to grating the cheese.

In hindsight, you’re really glad Steve showed up when he did. Asking for help can be terrifying, but when it is offered freely it is much easier to accept. And if an hour ago someone would have told you that you would be laughing right now, you would have declared them mad.

Steve finishes grating the cheese and puts the nachos in the oven. He wipes his hands on the tea towel and walks towards the two of you, dancing. Before you know it he, too, has wrapped his arms around you from behind, and tentatively places his hands on Bucky’s hips, as he leans his head on your shoulder and moves along with the music.

You can’t bring yourself to look into Bucky’s eyes anymore, but that’s alright. The air smells like nachos with molten cheese, the sounds in the air are peaceful and calm, and the arms wrapped around you feel amazingly warm.

In spite of everything that has happened today, you realise that right now, you are happy.

--- the end.

#stucky #captain america #my writing #reader insert #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #domestic au #ficlet

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potatocrab · 4 years

Text

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (15/18)

Chapter 15: The Liar’s Kiss That Says I Love You

A return to New England Medical Center finds Madelyn struggling with who she can trust. She and Deacon have a long conversation about the power of truth and lies, and she learns one more of his closely guarded secrets. At a Railroad safehouse, the two reminisce on their first operation and realize they may have fallen into a cliché after all.

“Kiss me, Mike. I want you to kiss me. The liar’s kiss that says I love you and means something else.” - Lily Carver as played by Gaby Rodgers (Kiss Me Deadly, 1955)

x-x

This chapter contains mild/not-so-mild sexual content. Proceed at your own desire! When you see the French language being used, you have reached the point of no return!

Major thanks to @glowstickia for her help on the French resources. :)

[read on Ao3] | [chapter masterpost]

May 30th, 1958

Madelyn had hoped she wouldn’t have a reason to visit the New England Medical Center so soon, memories of Nick’s hospitalization and near-death experience at the hands of Eddie Winter fresh in her mind. Yet there she was, struggling to ignore the sympathetic glances from the familiar faces of doctors and nurses as they patched up her arm and provided her with a tetanus shot—undoubtedly more painful than her injury, at least without the surge of adrenaline to dull her senses. Who would have guessed that a needle could hurt worse than a bullet?

The same medical staff allowed her to stay with Drummer Boy in his assigned recovery room, despite the fact she was of no relation. It was likely out of pity for all they had seen her experience in recent months. Between everything that had happened to her and Nick when they went after Eddie Winter in April, Jenny’s death when the hospital was ambushed thereafter, and now an attempted assassination at her own apartment—Madelyn was starting to think her luck—if she had any to begin with—was running out.

By the grace of God—or maybe Drummer Boy’s perfect timing—she’d escaped relatively unharmed. He wasn’t so fortunate, but the commotion of the shooting hadn’t gone unnoticed in her Cambridge neighborhood. When the Boston Police arrived, she was initially surprised to see Sergeant Sullivan, but considering he was the last trustworthy cop left in the city, she was grateful for his presence. He ensured that she and Drummer Boy got to the New England Medical Center in a timely manner while his task force secured the area. Madelyn wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of strange men lurking about her apartment, but she had little choice but to agree.

In the quiet of Drummer Boy’s room, she finally had a chance to process what had occurred and how close she had come to death—again. An unknown assailant dared to attack Madelyn in her own home, where she was most vulnerable. The list of suspects in her mind narrowed down to one as she thought about the agency’s infiltration of Fort Hagen, and the smuggled documents on Kellogg. While there hadn’t been any sightings of him since the late 40s, his vanishing act did little to ease anyone’s mind. The proof was in the casefile—Kellogg had a way of finding the people he deemed unfit for life. It made sense that he’d come for her, especially if he really was an agent of the Institute—they were likely to have their own list of reasons for wanting her dead.

An unsettling notion entered her mind as she thought about the man who had stalked her and Deacon before and again at the Cambridge campus on the day of the demonstration. What if it was him who had attempted to kill her, and not Kellogg as she assumed? What if it was a random android, set up in a building across the street, programmed to shoot into her apartment window at a specific time? Worse yet, what if the would-be assassin was just another one of the Institute’s experiments? Just another name, another face to get lost in the crowd—just as Piper feared. That meant nobody was beyond suspicion, not when it was still unknown just how long the Institute had been performing these so-called brain augmentations—if they were even behind the attack in the first place.

Madelyn clasped Drummer Boy’s hand tight as the paranoia and anxiety settled in. She couldn’t live like that—constantly looking over her shoulder—living in fear. She couldn’t go through life wondering who was or wasn’t worthy of her trust. Not when she’d finally gained back her sense of security—her sense of sanity—her sense of self. After Nate’s death, after Eddie Winter, after everything—the last thing she wanted was to fall back into the endless spiral of despair.

You can’t trust everyone.

The words echoed in her mind like so many times before, her chest tightening under the painful realization of how true they were. Madelyn closed her eyes the moment tears clouded her vision, clenching her jaw so tight she feared her teeth might chip. Anything to prevent herself from crying. It didn’t matter that she was (mostly) alone—she was so exhausted from so many nights of crying. Perhaps it was her concentration that made it difficult to hear the echoing footsteps in the hallway or the soft knock. It wasn’t until the door began to creak open that she reacted, recoiling in a way that she nearly fell out of her chair.

“Charmer?”

“Deacon?”

Madelyn breathed out his name, relieved it was him and not anyone else. While the doctors and nurses provided some comfort, it paled in comparison to the intimacy they shared. Still undefined, still unspoken—but undeniably close.

He hesitated, quietly closing the door behind him as he observed her, eyebrows raised high above the frame of his darkened shades. For as stoic and pensive as she’d seen him be in the past, especially when reacting to various tragedies and disastrous events, he appeared to be faltering now. It was always difficult to fully discern his emotions when half his face was obscured, but he looked curious, if not concerned. His silence indicated he was likely worried too, but Deacon would never say it outright.

Madelyn’s pulse gradually settled, but she had a difficult time fully relaxing under his watchful gaze. In that moment, with her willpower drained, she looked away. She focused on Drummer Boy’s steady breathing, brushing the pad of her thumb across his wrist and hospital band.

“Danny—Sullivan,” Deacon corrected himself, slowly moving to stand near the end of the hospital bed. “He tracked me and Valentine down, took us back to your apartment.”

“I know,” she responded, barely above a whisper. “I had him do so.”

“Ol’ Nick took a lot of convincing to stay behind,” he explained, setting down the canvas bag and glass Tupperware he carried on the small table. “But he didn’t want to leave those cops unsupervised. Even if they’re Sullivan’s men—”

You can’t trust everyone—he didn’t have to say it.

“It figures,” she sighed, closing her eyes again. “Probably looked like somebody died, huh?”

Deacon remained silent, though she could hear him, feel him, approaching. Soon enough, he was standing at her side, causing a tingle to run up her spine—an unexplainable feeling—but her skin suddenly ached for the simplest form of touch. As if he could read her mind (and she wouldn’t be surprised if he could), he rested his hand over hers and Drummer Boy’s. Madelyn immediately snapped open her eyes with a sharp inhale of air, momentarily stunned by the contact.

She needed more.

In an instant she was standing, clinging to him with her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as she pressed up on her toes, tired feet and aching shoulder be damned. Deacon was quick to return the embrace, holding her close as he kept his arms snug around her torso. Madelyn stayed there, face pressed against the soft wool of his coat—she wanted to tease him for wearing it so near to summer but now she was grateful for the comfort it provided. She didn’t cry, despite the fact that she wanted to, and probably needed to as well. Bristling with quiet desperation, the only thing Madelyn was sure of was that she didn’t want to be alone.

“I just—” she started after a long stretch of silence. “I’d like to go home.”

Deacon gradually pulled her away, easing her back so her heeled feet were level with the ground. He swept back a few errant curls behind her ear, fingers lingering along the curve of her cheek. At first, she thought he might kiss her, but he skewed his lips to the side instead. “No can do, Charmer.”

Madelyn sighed—she knew that, but it was worth a try. Her eyes danced over to the belongings on the table. Deacon sensed her curiosity.

“Codsworth insisted I bring you something to eat,” he explained, nodding his chin towards the glass container.

“Better left for Drummer Boy. I’m told hospital food tastes of despair,” she flashed a meek smile. “And the bag?”

“Some clothes for you,” he said. “Any chance to rifle through your naughty drawer.”

If it were anybody else, she wouldn’t have appreciated such an ill-timed joke. Deacon’s smirk relaxed into a gentler expression, his thumb tracing down the angle of her chin towards her mouth. “Let’s get you someplace safe.”

There was a hidden meaning to his words that had Madelyn equal parts excited and trembling with anxiety. He wanted her safe, but also alone—all to himself. They’d kissed, crossed that barrier two weeks prior. But whatever was to come next was to be determined, put on hold, as their focus quickly became centered on finding Kellogg and infiltrating the Institute. Romance could wait—or maybe it couldn’t.

What was she so afraid of?

Finally, she spoke. “Do you trust me?”

“You’ve asked that before,” he responded in a low, contemplative voice.

He was right—Madelyn had poised the question on more than one occasion. And the last time, just as before, he hadn’t given a straight answer. It was always easy enough for her to assume and take his presence for granted. But now more than ever, she needed honesty—if it was even possible. She wanted nothing more than to be engulfed in the flame they’d ignited, but she’d sooner snuff out the fire if he couldn’t give her this one answer.

“I know that lying is your profession. That you’d sooner court death than the truth,” she paused, reluctantly leaning away from his touch, noting the glimmer of disappointment in his features. “Against better judgement, I trust you.”

“But I need to know that you feel the same—that you trust me,” Madelyn expressed, doing her best not to sound like she was pleading. “Not just as your partner in the Railroad, but—”

She broke off, grasping his hand as part of her silent allusion. There was a subtlety to his reaction, but enough of one that told her he understood the inference. Deacon said nothing, eyebrows firmly creased together as he considered her words. The silence dragged on enough that she felt foolish for saying anything in the first place. She tried not to feel overly disappointed or react in a disproportionate way—the last thing Madelyn wanted was an argument.

“There’s an imbalance,” she mumbled, unsure of her train of thought. “You know so much about me, a fault of my own—Nick always said I wore my heart on my sleeve—” She was definitely rambling. Blame it on her grief—she couldn’t stop. “But you are and always have been an enigma, Deacon. Your face, your hair…hell, your real age,” her eyes darted over his face as her heart raced loud enough she could hear it echoing in her skull. “Your name.”

His reaction wasn’t subtle that time. Deacon pulled away, and Madelyn feared she’d crossed a line and offended him. But he didn’t storm out of the room—rather, he dug through his coat and jacket pockets, muttering something incoherent under his breath until he pulled free a leather billfold with a triumphant sort of grin. He placed it in her hands as if she’d asked for it.

“Go on,” he encouraged with a sideways smirk.

Madelyn didn’t move an inch, only taking a quick glance at the wallet before meeting his face again. “What—”

“You could’ve lifted that off of me at any time,” he interrupted, gesturing to the faded black material. “Looked at my ID and taken some money while you’re at it. All in a day’s work for a spy.”

She frowned—it seemed honesty for him was as bad as pulling teeth. Her legal studies were easier than this. Madelyn decided to call his bluff, turning over the billfold in her hand. “A spy like you would obviously carry more than one identification.”

“Obviously,” he agreed with a nod. “But one of them is bound to be legitimate. Even a no-good scoundrel like me needs a clean copy for official reasons—never know when you’re going to end up in a pickle or interrogated by some charming blonde.”

Madelyn, understandably, had doubts as her irritation lingered. Even if she wanted to take a look, could she really open what was akin to opening Pandora’s box? Did she really want to know? What if this was just another elaborate trick? Deacon titled his head just enough that she caught a glimpse of his eyes in the low light of the room. He was serious now, all trace of humor erased from his expression.

“I trust you.”

A shockwave rippled through her body causing a deep warmth to radiate in her chest. He might as well have told her—

Madelyn blinked hard, shaking the idea from her mind. One step at a time. Trust. He slowly circled around her to be closer to Drummer Boy’s bedside, and she turned to watch his movements, still hesitating to flip open the leather billfold. Deacon leaned over the hospital bed, as if to verify the agent wasn’t secretly awake and eavesdropping on their conversation. She sat back down in the nearby chair before giving into her curiosity.

She wasn’t sure what a typical man’s wallet was supposed to contain, but Deacon’s was full of various cards and trinkets—paper receipts and scribbled notes, raffle tickets of undetermined origin. Just as she predicted, and he admitted to, there were multiple state identification cards. Many were for Massachusetts, but there was one for Virginia, and one for Washington D.C.—unsurprisingly with the obviously fake name of George Washington.

Madelyn flicked through the paper cards, finding humor in some of the clever names and disguises—Horatio Williams from Worcester County, Simon Rock from Plymouth, Guy Granger from Richmond, and Harry Morgan from Nantucket. It wasn’t until she settled on a well-faded card that she gave pause. The Deacon in the black-and-white picture was recognizable, but only because she’d seen him without his usual pompadour wig and sunglasses. The full name wasn’t visible, worn from many years of handling but she saw enough of the bold lettering—Johnathan Daniel. She knew immediately it wasn’t a fake.

“Old testament,” she muttered, half-jokingly, under her breath. At least he hadn’t lied about his Catholic upbringing. Madelyn looked up to find him whispering—praying—as he gently held onto Drummer Boy’s arm, his other hand resting against the other man’s shoulder. The sight was unexpected, to say the least, and gave her insight that perhaps their relationship stretched beyond the Railroad too.

“Drummer Boy—Robby,” she corrected herself. “He wasn’t lying when he said John D formed the Railroad.”

Deacon shrugged, glancing at her over his shoulder, as if he expected her to say that. “He wasn’t,” he confirmed, plainly. He didn’t even ask when, or why Drummer Boy told her such information. “John D didn’t do it alone.”

“No,” Madelyn knew the history, thanks to the stories and a little digging of her own. “But Wyatt isn’t around anymore, now is he?”

“He isn’t.”

“And John D?” she asked tentatively.

Deacon grinned, if only for a fleeting moment. “He’s around.”

It was confirmation enough, and Madelyn decided not to pry for a straight answer—she’d gotten plenty from him already when he confirmed his trust. Now was not the time to cross boundaries, even as more unanswered questions rattled through her mind. With a deep and steadying breath, she allowed herself to become content with the knowledge that she was one of the lucky few—if not the only one—who knew this truth.

The silence was interrupted by a soft grumbling as Drummer Boy gradually regained consciousness. Madelyn abruptly stood, dropping Deacon’s wallet into the chair and rushing to the bedside to ensure he was okay. It took several moments for him to blink the exhaustion from his eyes, and he cleared his throat a few times before relaxing against the pillows again. The Railroad agent lazily glanced up at the two, flashing Madelyn a groggy smile. When Drummer Boy looked at Deacon, his face scrunched up, stuck between a frown and a glare.

“You still owe me,” he mumbled, causing Deacon to softly laugh. “Two dollars.”

The moon still hung high in the sky by the time Madelyn and Deacon left the New England Medical Center, though she wasn’t entirely sure of how much time had passed since she first left the agency, visited Nate’s grave, and returned to her apartment, only to be shot at by an unknown assailant—it had been a long day. All she knew was that her body ached, and that she was desperate for sleep.

After a short taxi ride into the Fens district, Deacon navigated the two through a nondescript area. She lacked the energy to comment on allowing handsome men to lead her into strange alleyways, but the amusement still brought a smile to her face. Outside an old, brick apartment building she noticed two Railroad insignias itched into the wall—one for safehouse, and another for ally.

“Mercer?” she assumed.

He nodded, escorting her inside the building. “Home sweet home.”

Unlike her Cambridge apartment, the elevators there were in working order. Madelyn couldn’t help but yawn as she leaned against Deacon’s shoulder, hoping the safehouse had an ample supply of pillows. He slowly guided her drowsy form down the hallway to the correct door, propping her under his arm as he fished through his pockets for his keys.

“Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?” he teased as soon as he pushed the door open.

Madelyn snickered, and snagged the bag of her belongings from his arm. “Haven’t you learned by now I’m a capable woman?”

He laughed, allowing her to enter ahead of him into the apartment. It was just about the same size as hers, with a mirrored layout and less furniture. Seeing as it was meant as a halfway-house for weary and temporary travelers, it made sense that it wouldn’t feel as lived in. There was a couch, a record player, and a small bookshelf with an assortment of books. The kitchen was modest as well—a small island bar with a few leftover coffee cups and newspapers, as well as a cardboard box from the nearby pizzeria.

Madelyn followed the pathway of the hallway to the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder to find Deacon loitering by the refrigerator. As soon as she was alone in the tiny, tiled room, she took several moments to examine herself in the mirror. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time she found herself covered in blood—a macabre thought—the hospital staff had done a decent job at cleaning washing away the evidence from her skin. But there she was with another ruined dress, stained and torn from where the bullet had grazed her shoulder.

She thought to check her wedding ring for streaks of red when she realized she wasn’t even wearing it. A flicker of guilt washed over her as she remembered she’d removed it before the undercover operation at Fort Hagen. Maybe she should be relieved it was still safe and sound at her apartment—not like Deacon would’ve snagged it off her jewelry stand. Madelyn decided to look through the bag to see what he did grab. There were two dresses and stockings that complimented her current pair of heels, and she was grateful that they were appropriate for the May weather. Tucked beneath that was one of her silk nightgowns and matching robes, along with some undergarments. Rather than feel embarrassed, she could only sigh, appreciative that she had something comfortable to change into.

She quickly kicked off her heels, leaving them at the foot of the sink as she removed the rest of her clothes. She draped her discarded dress and stockings over the shower curtain rod before slipping on the pale blue nightgown, securing the robe around her body with a tight knot. She wiggled her toes against the cool floor and sighed. With one last glance in the mirror to ensure she hadn’t missed an errant mark of blood, she flicked off the light and left the bathroom.

In the kitchen, Deacon was preparing two glasses of whiskey as he stood by the island bar, pausing in his actions to watch her slow approach. “Well now I feel overdressed.”

Ironic, considering she’d never seen him so relaxed. He had discarded his wool coat and suit jacket, left hanging over the back of the living couch. Even his shoes were missing, and a cursory scan of the room didn’t give her any indication of where he’d placed them. Madelyn could only mimic his expression.

“You’re the one who packed my bag,” she replied. “I sense sabotage is at play.”

Deacon mocked offense. “I’d never.”

“Before you take the bed and resign me to the couch,” he continued, gaining her attention. He gestured to the freshly poured drinks and the pizza box. “I made a promise to a very pushy Mister Handy unit that you’d be fed, and I’m one to keep promises. Even if they are to robots with British accents.”

Madelyn laughed, imaging Codsworth’s worrying pestering. When her stomach growled, she decided that as tired as she was, sleep could wait. Deacon pulled out the barstool for her so she could sit before occupying the set next to her, sliding her the glass tumbler of whiskey and cardboard box of leftovers. She’d had worse meals but in that moment, cold pizza and alcohol was like heaven. Still, she could sense Deacon watching her carefully from the corner of her eye, and she sighed into her glass.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened,” she explained, nervously meeting his shielded gaze. “Not now, not when I’ll just have to repeat it all over again when we meet with the others in the morning or—” she glanced to the clock hanging on the wall and groaned. “In a few hours.”

Deacon didn’t push. “Whatever you need, Charmer.”

“How does the line go?” he mused. “You know how to whistle…”

“I thought I was Bacall,” Madelyn joked mid-chew. “Mr. Bogart.”

She hadn’t forgotten that conversation from their first meeting, a flirtatious tease of falling in love like two Hollywood starlets in the latest noir film. Madelyn would’ve never guessed that all these months later, it had played out exactly as predicted. She smiled, and so did he.

“Looks like we fell into the cliché after all,” she whispered, eyes darting across his face, lingering on his mouth. “What do you think?”

Deacon finished off his whiskey with a slow sip before answering. “Tu as de beaux yeux tu sais.”

Madelyn was momentarily taken aback, suddenly wishing she’d taken French as a foreign language in school instead of Gaelic—all her Irish relatives were deceased anyways, what was the point? Was Deacon deflecting again? Something about his tone and the way he turned towards her said otherwise. He used his legs to scoot her barstool closer to him, the movement causing her to lean forward and brace her palms flat against his chest so she wouldn’t smash her forehead against his nose. His hands came to rest on her waist as he gradually eased her closer.

“Si je te disais que tu avais un beau corps, tu m’en tiendrais rigueur?”

A question whispered against the shell of her ear that sent her heart racing, mind going blank as she only thought about Deacon’s heated breath along the column of her throat. Madelyn allowed herself to edge nearer to his body still until she was practically straddling his thigh, teetering on the edge of her chair, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders.

He continued murmuring what she assumed were sweet-nothings against her skin—though they could be nonsense and she’d still be melting in his hands. “On devrait t'arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique.”

“Est-ce que tu fais partie du menu?”

What about a menu? She pondered if what he was telling her bordered on filth, but the idea only excited her. Madelyn sharply inhaled, angling her neck to give him greater access despite the fact his lips hadn’t made direct contact with her skin. When he finally reached her mouth, he paused, one hand reaching up to hold the side of her face steady.

“Dis moi ce que tu veux,” he said. After a beat, he repeated himself, this time so she could understand. “Tell me what you want.”

Madelyn didn’t hesitate to move her hands to his face, fingers wrapping around the metal frame of his glasses before gently removing them, setting them down on the kitchen counter. She held his face with her palms, taking a long moment to stare deep into his steely blue eyes. It had been more than a month since she’d seen them like this, and yet it felt like she was seeing them for the first time—brilliant, vibrant and beautiful.

“You,” she breathed the answer, the most honest she’d felt in years. “Deacon, I want you.”

There was a glimmer to his eyes she couldn’t place as he briefly smirked before wordlessly closing the distance between them with a slow, but needy kiss. It didn’t take long at all for it to grow heated, the hand on her waist silently encouraging her to scoot closer until she was fully seated across his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Deacon balanced her against him as they hungrily kissed, a groan echoing in his throat as she frantically pushed the suspenders from his shoulders before moving her fingers to undo the buttons of his shirt. It seemed that now that the damn was broken, Madelyn couldn’t wait for the rush—patience be damned.

He matched her fervor, one hand darting to the silken knot at her waist and blinding tugging until he broke away from their kiss to glare down at the confusing tangle. With a curse he pulled open her robe and she shrugged it from her body, softly moaning as his lips instantly collided with the outline of her collarbone before the garment reached the floor. As Deacon kissed a trail along her skin, Madelyn threaded her hands through his hair, breathing a laugh when she remembered it was a wig. He didn’t seem to mind as she removed it—too preoccupied with leaving patterns on her neck—exposing the ginger locks she admired. Just as she returned to run her fingers through those soft waves, he leaned back out of reach. She didn’t have time to be confused as he hoisted her into his arms as he stood, holding her as if she weighed nothing.

Madelyn gasped and still clutched his arms in the fear that she’d be dropped. At first, she assumed he would carry her to the couch, or the bedroom, but he simply placed her on the island bar instead. With a sweep of his arm, he pushed away the clutter to make room for her body, thrilling her to the core. She watched as Deacon peeled off his dress shirt, moving her hands to his belt on the assumption—and perhaps eagerly—that they were to make love right there. He covered her hands with his own, stopping her with a soft chuckle, but it wasn’t meant to taunt her.

“Lie back,” he instructed, voice laced with desire.

Madelyn complied, swallowing down the last traces of anxiety as she eased back onto her elbows. She was so entranced by his actions that she almost forgot to breathe, eyes locked onto his face as his gaze raked over her body and the length of her legs. Deacon’s hands were soft as they traced up from her ankles to her calves and eventually to her thighs, gradually spreading apart her knees to make enough space for his body. Those striking eyes of his found hers as his hands trailed further, past the lace trim of her nightgown until heated fingers traced the outline of her underwear. Those same deft fingers pulled away the fabric just enough so he could touch, an agonizing drag along her already dampened folds. It was enough for Madelyn to completely collapse against the cold tile of the counter, tossing her head back as she moaned loudly. Just how touch starved had she been?

“Don’t close your eyes,” Deacon said, and she desperately fought to snap them open as he continued, and then stopped.

She whimpered, almost against her own volition. He was already gradually sliding her underwear down her legs until they slipped off and to the floor. Instead of his hands, it was his mouth that followed the trail up her legs, and Madelyn was sure her heart was going to burst right out her chest. It didn’t take a detective to know what he was planning, and the pure eroticism of it all—splayed out on a kitchen counter—made her skin prickle with arousal.

Deacon pushed up the silken fabric of her nightgown before hooking one knee around his shoulder, spreading her other thigh out so that his hand could easily trace along her skin. His fingers found her wet heat again, far from teasing as he probed her entrance, eliciting loader groans from her. Just as he found a steady rhythm, he replaced his hand with his mouth, and Madelyn could feel her stomach coiling at the sensation already. She was writhing, uncaring how unhinged she appeared, completely lost to the passion he was inflicting upon her. It was only fitting that the man who was so gifted at intrigue would be this talented with his mouth—Deacon was through, relentless.

Madelyn’s mind was a haze, and she couldn’t hear anything besides her own rapid pulse and intense breathing. No doubt she was chanting his name like a prayer, whispering quiet praises and pleadings that he wouldn’t stop because—oh God—she was so close, and—Jesus—she hadn’t felt so alive in years. There was more blasphemy and curses, and she was sure she was going to hell—maybe it was worth it—if this was what sin felt like.

When she came, it was blinding, and her entire body trembled uncontrollably as Deacon’s hands moved to cradle her, mouth unmoving from her core until she was spent. Madelyn still took several minutes to regain her bearings, staring up at the ceiling in delirious wonder.

“Deacon?” she titled her head to find him resting against the counter, arms draped across her body as his hands rubbed slowly up and down her sides. He glanced up at her with a lazy, self-satisfied sort of smile, and she decided he deserved it.

“I’m here,” he answered.

She softly laughed. “I’d like you to carry me now.”

Deacon was slow to move but eventually leaned back, grasping her hands to help her gradually sit up straight. He hooked one arm under her knees, the other around her torso and gave her a sideways glance so she’d hold onto his shoulder for balance. Madelyn again found herself amused at how easy he made it seem, pausing on his way out of the kitchen to turn off the front room lights. They made their way towards the bedroom in the darkness, though Deacon didn’t appear perturbed, as if he had every inch of the place memorized by touch.

Compared to the rest of the apartment, the bedroom filled more belongings and looked like it had a regular visitor. There were more books scattered there than in the front room, and several bags of clothes that had been diligently organized. Madelyn didn’t have to ask to know the regular tenant was Deacon. The shades of the window were open, allowing the light of the moon to cast a soft light of white into the room and across the unmade bed. He placed her there, and she stared up at him with curious eyes as he seemed to hesitate for the first time that evening as he slowly unbuckled his belt, sliding down his pants when there was enough slack.

“We can stop, if you want,” Deacon suggested. “The bed is yours. Couch is more comfortable than it looks.”

Madelyn was surprised, and while she appreciated the gesture, she’d expressed her desires. “No.”

“Thought you might say that,” he smirked. He removed his undershirt and tossed it to the floor before sitting on the edge of the mattress, reaching down to pluck the socks off his feet.

When he turned to her, Madelyn was struck by the man she saw in the glow of the moonlight, practically a stranger and yet somebody she trusted her entire life with. Against common sense she’d gone and fallen in love with a beautiful mystery of a man, and nothing thrilled her more. She sat up to meet his advances, kissing him desperately as he worked to lift her nightdress up and off her body.

Madelyn removed her own bra, uncaring if he could do it just as quickly. At this rate, she just wanted to be naked and beneath him as soon as possible. Deacon must’ve found the action amusing, softly laughing against her mouth as he broke away from their kiss to lift off from the bed to discard his briefs. She took the opportunity to lean back against the pillows, pushing back the sudden realization that she was about to have sex for the first time in years—the first time since—

No, she reminded herself, closing her eyes tight. There was no time for that kind of guilt, or for those kinds of memories to permeate this space. With a steadying breath, she blinked open her eyes to find Deacon perched over her, the warmth of his body causing her earlier excitement to spike anew. He lowered himself closer, and she let out a shudder at the feel of his hardened arousal at the junction of her thighs.

“Je t’adore,” he whispered against her ear.

Madelyn turned her head so that she could look at him, lock eyes—blue on blue. She wrapped one leg around his, silently encouraging him as she hooked her arms around his shoulders. “Deacon, please.”

That’s all it took for him to slowly sink into her, the air stolen from her lungs as he became fully seated within her. Deacon moved slow in those initial moments, almost agonizingly so, staying close to her body as he steadily rolled his hips against hers. It wasn’t until she let out a strangled moan and grasped the hair along his scalp that he dared to increase his speed, fully retreating with each thrust before pushing back in. There were more hushed, incoherent and foreign words exchanged, more silent prayers and whispered names against mouths between hungry kisses.

Eventually he leaned back onto his haunches and the angle created a delightful increase to her pleasure and judging by the way Deacon panted and struggled to keep his groans contained, he felt the same. Madelyn felt admired under his gaze, her skin aflame as his blown pupils darted across her naked flesh, fingers digging tightly into her hips as he gradually lost control of his thrusts. She’d been so caught up in her own past that she hardly considered—or remembered—that it had possibly been a long time for him as well.

“Come here,” she beckoned him back to her arms and he practically collapsed against her, their limbs tangling together as they lost themselves to each other.

It didn’t take more than one, two—three punctual thrusts for Madelyn to snap, crying out as she came with a trembling force. Deacon followed shortly thereafter, clinging tightly to her as he snapped his hips tightly to her with a guttural groan. The two stayed coiled together for the next several moments until the spasms passed, Deacon pulling away with a deep exhale as he withdrew to collapse at her side.

Neither said a word as they came down from their individual highs of ecstasy, the room slowly growing quiet as their breathing returned to normal. Madelyn was the first to roll onto her side to face him, and for all that they had shared in the past and just now, she felt strangely bashful. Deacon was already gazing at her with an expression she couldn’t place, the moonlight twinkling in his eyes. Still, the two remained quiet, only regarding each other with similar smiles. He silently urged her to snuggle close against his chest, wrapping their still warm bodies in a thin sheet.

Madelyn still wasn’t sure what the nature of their relationship was, but that was a conversation for another day. She wasn’t about to ruin the moment with a potentially tremulous conversation—not everything needed to be talked through, not everything needed an immediate answer. It was well enough to just be happy in the moment. And despite all the other worries in her life—God—was she happy. She could feel sleep finally calling her into the darkness.

Before she succumbed, she smiled, content to be wrapped up in his arms. “Goodnight, Deacon.”

She convinced herself she was dreaming when he responded minutes, or maybe hours later.

“Goodnight, Madelyn.”

#fallout 4 #noir au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #deacon #madelyn hardy #drummer boy #👀👀👀#the slow burn reaches it's burning point y'all #there's another monty python quote in here but it's a multilingual one jfc #escesive use of the french language

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joyisntyoj · 4 years

Text

04: LETTERS TO NOBODY OR MAYBE MAYARI

Seal stamps, stamps with whatever designs, papers and pens, stickers, pictures, dried flowers, heartwarming messages, and a lot more.

When was the last time you wrote something on a literal piece of paper for someone?

Have you ever personally given someone a handwritten letter or sent it from the post office?

Is writing a letter still a thing today, or you just use whatever app you have because what is the point if other ways are more convenient, right?

Maybe, you are more the vocal type of person and, you just say what you feel instead of writing it down?

Perhaps, you are none of the above because what is important is your presence in their lives and, that is more than enough?

Still, how lovely it is to keep something that has sentimental value. It unnecessarily means that you are hoarding something because what's to not treasure from precious memories in a small piece of paper in an envelope?

This story is for those who never get tired of expressing themselves in whatever form they know, but most especially to those who write.

May you never run out of papers, inks, and thoughts to compose. to more unforgotten memories preserved in letters.

^^^

To: Mayari.

How are you? I wish things were getting better, just like what I always pray. These days, sleeping at night suddenly became serene as well as waking up in the morning. Sometimes my days are dull and typical...I believe? But most of the time, it's either I'm feeling blue or extra sad, or was that the same? I kept on blaming the pandemic, but for real, I'm just a mess. Silent battles are truly tough. I wish I had the courage and strength just like yours. Be safe. Stay sane. I'm really trying my best to be legit all right.

With so much love and kindness always and all ways,

Liway.

Liway is the name, exhausted with life. Mayari, someone out there, maybe a supreme being or plausibly not always receives Liway's letters. Sometimes Liway writes 10 messages at once and sometimes none at all. Mayari is the only recipient of such letters that even Liway never knew they were received by the random recipient it thought was just nobody. It all genuinely started on having a recipient written on the "To:" part at the post office. Though seriously, it doesn't even have any home address. It's super weird that it's for Mayari and no address, and were received.

HOW?

^^^

To: Mayari.

The night has come. This time, it feels heavier than usual. Tears are suddenly falling. I noticed that an unwelcome visitor came. The familiar pain is hugging me again, so tight that breathing is getting harder. I hate everything. Yet, I came to realize a lot of things. Afterward, I'm feeling blessed and grateful. Am I getting crazy? Before I went to bed, at the dinner table, I felt uncomfortable with the conversation we had, my family, about myself back then. I really hate it when they keep on bringing up what happened in the past. I already moved on... I think... so can they stop mentioning those moments? Honestly, whenever anything from the past is introduced again and remembered, I tend to feel like it just happened yesterday. Everything is coming back so fresh and new; fun, pain, sweats, and tears. I hate it.

PS. Mayari, can you send me some courage? Preferably in capsules, So I can have it in my intakes and be sure I'll be really having it in my system literally.

With so much love and kindness always and all ways,

Liway.

Continues writing so many letters filled with how living is like. Liway felt tired and exhausted. A few days ago, it was super overwhelmed that crying is unavoidable. Then this morning, Ms. Walmy called for a little chat and checking up because it's never too bad to check up on somebody, most especially when you're a counselor. It's your job, so uh? Anyway, though Liway was out of focus on the call, it was able to be accomodating and warm in return. It reciprocated the thoughtfulness with a sweet smile.

^^^

To: Mayari

Hey! Today I was mad because firsthand, I experienced that thing I usually hear from other people. The "don't-post-something-revealing-on-social-media-but-love-yourself-but-that's-not-appropriate". Well, I don't even know why I'm reacting super outrage towards it. Because knowing that my family is just concerned for me since the internet is frankly scary. I mean, I did nothing wrong, so why? Maybe deciding to be confident on the internet is not necessary for them. But for me, it is! So how should I deal with this? A friend consoled me, and I feel better. Still tho, my mood is already ruined. Oh gosh.

With so much love and kindness always and all ways,

Liway.

Welcoming a new week, the usual Liway is busy with the household chores. Some may find it stressful, but this one is pretty different. Scrubbing the floor, washing the dishes, brooming on the side. Later on, folding the clothes, fixing the bed, and a lot more things. It looks like it'll be tiring its body out until the nose bleeds, and passing out is the last resort to rest. How come it's easier to clean an actual mess than the one inside the head and heart?

^^^

To: Mayari.

Beloa visited me today. My childhood and the only friend left I have up to this day from elementary school. If you get what I mean? It's been a long time since we had a chat, especially that things are super complicated these days. She's doing really well, and I couldn't be more proud. I'm still amazed at how we manage to be friends because we both don't like each other to begin with. It's so funny that we even pulled each other's hair in the 4th grade while the class is taking the annual picture for the school year remembrance. What are the odds in this even, right? HAHAHA. Today was warm and bright.

With so much love and kindness always and all ways,

Liway.

Dates suddenly don't vary in these letters. Even the concept of time is somehow gone. What's important is regardless of not having these "important details" like the usual, Liway can keep up and be consistent in sending its letters. Liway never missed a chance to send a letter to the address less recipient, which left the post office staff to ponder with it. But as time goes by, Alle, the clerk, is no more surprised 'coz she's used to everything now. The envelopes unfailingly vanished the moment it was dropped inside the mailing box. Indeed, a magical mailbox.

^^^

To: Mayari.

I never knew how amazing pretending could be. You know that thing where someone usually says I'm okay, but really not? The inner saboteur that was triggered by their trauma is real-real-real. A car is useless when it's not moving if you wanted to travel to faraway places. Does that make sense?

PS. It sucks that our bathroom is the only "semi-safe space".

With so much love and kindness always and all ways,

Liway.

Polar bears are really fascinating. They get to hibernate. Then, after the time being, back on hunting and living their lives. Ligaya was one of Liway's hero. A lot knew Ligaya for being a superhero, although she does not have that fantasy powers. Just like the polar bears, too, Ligaya has been hibernating for quite some time but kept on saying that she was not. Liway saw it all. Maybe a bear's hibernation is different from a human-being, hmm?

^^^

To: Mayari.

IDK what to say, but I just wanted to be consistent at the very least in sending you letters.

PS. The radio was broken, but in my head, it's working. It kept on playing nonstop music. Is this a poetic way of saying I'm overthinking things?

With so much love and kindness always and all ways,

Liway.

^^^

To: Mayari.

A lot happened lately. Somebody lost a precious one, and here I am, having a renaissance moment. It's a crazy ride, but for all it's worth, the pea has grown into a beautiful plant. Hope it made sense coz finally, everything is making sense to me now. Little by little, slowly and surely.

With so much love and kindness always and all ways,

Liway.

^^^

To: Mayari

Hey!! I hope you are doing great!!! These days, everything felt surreal. I get to be active everywhere. It's draining, yet I feel so alive than ever. I had this thought that time is indeed just a concept, hmm? I mean, anytime is the right time to do what you want and whatever it is. Nothing is too late, most especially when it comes to growth. OH, being late in class still counts but FOR REAL RIP TO THE ONLINE CLASS SETUP -_-

PS. May we never run out of time to be the best versions of ourselves. LOVE WHOEVER YOU WANT. fck the situation, but SOON, GO ANYWHERE YOU WANT. SPEND FOR YOURSELF AND FOR YOUR LOVED ONES. FEEL EVERYTHING.

PSS. May we leave this world with fewer regrets and more amazing memories.

With so much love and kindness always and all ways,

Liway.

Quite a lot of letters were already sent. The post office is getting more and more letters, as well as Mayari. Still, NO REPLY. Maybe some other, Liway will be able to hear Mayari's words.

^^^

To: Mayari.

*here's an envelope just in case you want to write me something*

With so much love annd kindness always and all ways,

Liway.

'Tis the season to be jolly. LOL Nah. Liway has been out for the past weeks. By out, means on a hibernation mode. A L O T R E A L L Y happened. It's hard to put it into words. I guess Liway will end these letter-sending shenanigans or just lazy and trying to give out some excuses //

^^^

To: Mayari.

Ever since I was taught how to move around the kitchen, I've been assigned to be Mom's assistant while cooking for the feast every event/occasion we'll be celebrating. It's tiring but super fun. Getting your fingers bleed and while unaware is cool LOL~

PS. Why does it feel so good to overthink things while doing the dishes? What's with that scenario.........

With so much love and kindness always and all ways,

Liway.

Tireless hands, heart, and mind with countless thoughts and feelings, papers, and pens everywhere—WRITING; it surely is one of the best ways to vent. Though letters can’t hug and wipe one's tears, witness waves of laughter, ease the pain, and such, the comfort from every word written is more than enough.

Suddenly time barge in and reminded me that this is enough. THIS IS ENOUGH FOR 2020...

A new chapter has arrived, and maybe it's time to move forward. Maybe this is where it all gonna stop for a while. I mean, writing is somehow tiring, literally. Probably, Mayari might reply with the number of letters sent anytime soon, so maybe waiting is all that needed.

No rush in moving on.

MAY YOU GET THE REPLY YOU LONG FOR SO LONG.

PRIORITIZE YOURSELF AND HAVE COURAGE.

BE KIND ALWAYS AND ALL WAYS.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Little did nobody know, Liway is writing a letter to her "ideal" self.

The letter-sending-to-nobody thingy of Liway is really mind-boggling, right?

Mayari is Liway. Liway is Mayari.

The things that Liway wanted to say but cannot articulate well were always sent to Mayari. Mayari is the version of Liway it wishes to become in the future.

The weak Liway longs and hopes to have "that" someone by her side to look up to. That's why she always writes letters and keeps them in the memory box.

The post office thingy was actually her shared room at home: the table at the corner with no lights but so much mess. It's that post office.

It's pandemic, so how can a post office be open and how brave she is to go out, right?

That saying, "be the hero you wanted to have when you were little", is the best explanation of Liway's way of venting and expressing.

Nobody knows when Mayari will come to life because it's no certainty that we can be the ideal self we all wanted to happen.

For now, Liway is fighting her battles and screaming louder to the universe,

UNTIL WHEN DO I HAVE TO FEEL THIS WAY?

To be continued...

Happy New Year, Mayari. ✨💜

This is like an excerpt from my quarantine shenanigans for 2020 LOL.

#newyear #writing #vent #shortstory #letter

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