#and I also wanted him to seem... timeless in a way like even if he was just an ordinary cat he's still an old extraordinary soul. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winterarmyy · 8 months

Text

Thin Walls, Thin Lines

What will happen if a fuckboy falls in love with a hopeless romantic?

Summary: Modern society surely had corrupted the mind of the hundred-something year old man, Bucky Barnes, when he seemed to have forgotten the art of courting a lady. Lost in lust and pleasure, he had been indulging with endless array of different girls on his bed almost every night. And the opposite side of that thin walls of his room, lives a hopeless romantic who he was madly in love with.

Navigation: Original Version || Deleted Scene* (alt. ending)

Pairing: fuckboy!bucky x female!reader

Words: 4.9k++

Warnings: avenger au, explicit language/contents, angst, lil bit of drama, fluff, please bare with the fuckery of bucky barnes, reader is sensitive yet quite fiesty too. i can't backup steve on this one, he is on his own.

A/N: As you can see from the navigation bar, we have two different endings for this fic, because I am greedy and indecisive. The original version ended with fluff and the deleted scene (alternate ending) ended with absolute filth of a smut. So... enjoy! 💕

P/S: And this is also my submission for @jessybarnes 's writing challenge. I have chosen "Kiss me again" from the prompt list and I hope you like the way I used it in this fic!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N has always been a hopeless romantic. She dreams of a love like the ones she read in books. She craved someone who loves her so deeply that she could never find peace in anyone else but him. She wanted all the love songs and poetry to be reminders of him; his beauty, his charms.

Fresh flowers, stargazing, coffee dates, kisses that tastes of cotton candy, warm cuddles, and every little things in between; she longed for it all. She dreams of a love that is so consuming until all that's left in that small bubble of infatuation is their entangled soul mending each other to the bone.

That's what makes her a hopeless romantic.

And very much the opposite of her was Bucky. He is an infuriating flirt. There's not a day goes by that he doesn't call her with sickeningly sweet nicknames; doll, gorgeous, princess, darling, you name it. He will definitely drop some suggestive lines at any given chance and most of the time when she least expected.

He can charm anyone just by his presence, and if you're lucky enough to get one of his infamous smile; then you best believe that you won't be going home alone that night, or able to walk proper the next morning. He is the typical playboy you know and hate; very often she'll see different girl in his arms or on his bed. And that man seemed to not know when to stop. Sometimes, she do wonder if he ever got tired of sex. Because she knows for certain that he can go on and on for hours, daily.

"Fuck,, that's it. Spread your legs for me. Yeah, 'atta girl."

Speaking of the devil.

This has been recurring for months now. It seems like the man never sleep because his voice would always wake her up. She couldn't decide what was worse; between being forced to hear the sounds of the skin slapping, the bed creaking, him groaning and her squealing or being a super light sleeper that even a whisper in her room would jolt her awake.

Y/N let out an annoyed grunt when she swoop her head under the pillow, hoping to silenced the noises even just a little bit. Surprise; it didn't help at all. Her body cringed and her face contorted into a squint when she hear the other woman announcing her release as the headboard hits the wall a little harder, a little faster.

Bucky Barnes sure is a fuckboy but unfortunately for her, he is also the man she fell in love with.

She refused to show it, but lord knows how much her heart simply swell to the sight of his smile. Despite the flirtatious tendencies of his, there was something about him that attracted her like a magnet; or like a moth to a flame.

Maybe it was his old soul, or maybe because she saw glimpses of timeless charm in him; the way he moves, the way he gazes, and the way treated her. Nevertheless, it was such a devastating thing for someone like her to fall for someone like him.

The last thing she wanted in a man, is to look at her like she was just a good fuck and nothing more. She just couldn't imagine herself to be tied with someone like that. And Bucky was exactly that someone.

Y/N haven't been able to get more than 2 hours of sleep for months now. The lack of it had caused her to drastically lose physical strength and lately fatigue has been a constant presence as well.

So she decided to go the medbay to consult Dr. Cho about it. After running some tests, she sat her down for some Camomile tea as she went through the results, "It seemed like the severe lack of sleep had took a really heavy toll on you."

Y/N sighed as she place the tea cup on the back on the table, "Yes, I am well aware of that. That is precisely why I am here."

"Nightmares?" Dr. Cho speculated.

If the definition of nightmare is 'the moans of the man, that she had a crush on, fucking someone else next door' then, yes. She was having long and nearly endless nightmares for months now.

"Something like that." She lied.

"Then, I have some medication that I can prescribe to you. You should take it daily after dinner and..." Before Dr. Cho managed to finish her instructions, Y/N quickly asked, "Is it possible to fix me without meds?"

Dr. Cho frowned curiously, "Why wouldn't take meds? That's the quickest way to help for your situation, as far as I know." she asked.

This was not her first rodeo; she had troubles sleeping back when she was merely teenager. And the last time tried using meds, she ended up almost overdosed herself from it, "It's just... I prefer not to." she evaded.

Dr. Cho nodded understandingly before clarifying the current situation, "Well then, I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do for you. Though some research suggested that meditation routine before sleep can help. Or putting up some natural ambience like the sound of rain or waves--"

Y/N wasn't really listening after the first sentence. Because all she could thought of was how much longer she can bare with this and what will it take for her to finally snap.

Y/N was dying. At least it felt like it.

With her deprivation of sleep and the intense combat training she had to go through today, her patience was reaching it's limit. After visiting the medbay 2 weeks ago, she had tried to approach Bucky about it but he always took it lightly.

There was series of insincere apology followed by a cheeky promise to 'keep the tone down' for her. But nothing changed. She asked him again and again; days gone by he didn't live up to the end of his bargain.

For those past week, Y/N had resorted to sleep in the living room for most of the nights. How she dreaded to leave her comfy bed but she could no longer tolerate the sounds coming from the other side on the wall. Though she still jolted awake from time to time due to how uncomfortable it was sleeping on a couch, but at least she got more than 2 hours of sleep if she was to compare to the nights she slept in her own room.

It's not she didn't notice it at all; she knew exactly how and why it happened. The habit of microsleeping that she developed during the course of this training. The slowed reaction time, the lack of energy, she can feel it. But, there was nothing she can do about it.

The only cure for this was to get some rest. A proper rest. And that can't happened, not without Bucky's cooperation.

When Y/N was marching towards the sargent who was sitting way across the gym; she could see how his eyes undress every piece of her clothing, how his tongue rolled out and his teeth sunk into his lips.

She wasn't even wearing anything remotely provocative but here he was lusting over the way her hips sway especially when he was the one she's walking towards.

The moment she stood in front of him, his mouth lifted into a smirk, "Yes, princess. How may I be of your service?" His voice was sultry and the way he towers over made her slightly nervous for no reason.

Her heart fluttered, yet her lips refused to form a smile, "Don't call me princess."

"I apologize, my queen." Bucky gave her a cheeky smile.

Y/N didn't want to drag this any longer than she should, so she quicky jump into it and said, "So you know how I’m like-"

"-absolutely embarrassingly in love with me? Yes, I'm familiar go on." Bucky cuts in. If panic ever rose in her chest, then she was doing an incredible job of hiding it, "Can you just shut up for a second and take me seriously?"

His eyes glint with flirtaous mischief when he replied, "Doll, you know the fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me."

Y/N simply sighed before she began to rant, "I really don't have the mood for this banter with you, Barnes. I just want you tone down your nightly routine. It is because of you I've been having trouble sleeping and--"

He quickly stopped her before she nags even more than she already did, "Okay, okay I get it. We've been through this, doll." Bucky's face lit up when he suggested, "How about I help you sleep, hmm? I may know a thing or two about tiring someone out." There was surely something unholy in those steel blue eyes of his.

And Y/N picked it up rather quick, but considering the amount of times he had insinuate something more than just a friendly banter, then of course she knew exactly what he was suggesting, so she simply replied, "No offense, Barnes. But, I don't do one night stand or no strings attached thing. And with a manwhore like you? No, thank you." sassy was her answer.

Bucky's head tilted back as he laughed, then when he spoke his voice was like a devil luring an angel to sin, "Oh babydoll, if I were to be a whore, it'll only be for you." He stepped closer so that only she can hear his confession.

His masculine scent hits her nose, mixture of the citrus cologne and his natural odour was just perfect. Annoyingly alluring; but perfect. And it took all her will to hold it together and blatantly rejects him, "Still not interested."

Bucky groaned in protest, "Come on, princess. You can't keep dreaming for some prince charming to court you, do you? You know that's probably never going to happen right?"

Surely he meant only to tease her; that it was less likely that an actual prince to romance her. Not that she did not deserve the world; she does. And Bucky was more than will to burn it to the ground if that's what she wanted.

But, Y/N didn't see it that way. She thought that Bucky meant that she is not worthy enough for a decent man to court her with respect and chilvary; that she was just a toy fit for fucking and nothing more. And the fact that her "insomia" had affected her usually high patience and reduced it to almost paper thin, it was only fair for her to finally snap.

She can tolerate his endless flirtation but she can't simple turn a blind eye for his insult.

Bucky was caught by surprise why Y/N harshly grabbed him by the collar, pushing him back and nearly stumbled; her eyes was pure fire when she growled, "Don't you dare mock the way I value relationship, Barnes." Her nose flared with anger and the commotion has attracted some prying eyes towards the two.

"Just because you enjoy fucking anything that breathes, that doesn't mean that everyone else does." She seethed, "The only cock that will be wrecking my pussy would belong to someone I love and if you have a problem with that, you can fuck right off." She forcefully pushed him until his ass landed on the bench behind him.

Her feet stomped all throughout her exit out of the gym, leaving Bucky in a blinking confusion.

He knew it was wrong.

It felt good. It felt right.

But, it was so fucking wrong.

To keep moaning Y/N's name when he railed those strangers to heaven; when he came so hard into the thin layer of condom. And it was always a soft and slow type of whimper, right in those girls' ears. So intimate, so careful not to let his secret out; knowing how thin the walls between him and the love of his life.

But, he certainly didn't care about the girl he was fucking. If it wasn't for his heavy body pinning her from behind, she would've elbowed him right in the guts for moaning another woman's name. Unfortunately for him, she quickly ditched and see herself out after the first round.

Now, he laid there; naked and bare. Thinking of how he simply couldn't help it. How could he not think of Y/N all the times? Not when he was deeply, helplessly in love with her. But, he knew she wouldn't bat an eye at him now that he had the reputation of a "fuckboy", as the young ones describes it. She especially made it clear today at the gym. She's never going to give him a chance now.

Not when she's a hopeless romantic. And the fact that he too was once the same was just aggravating to him. He was such a gentleman decades ago; before Hydra, before the war, when he was but a young man living Brooklyn.

His Ma had really shaped him into the perfect gentleman; every parents in the neighbourhood wanted him as their son-in-law. They claimed he would make the perfect husband for their daughters. But, things are different now. And he knew that the man he was before was long forgotten.

It was just curiosity at first; about how sex works in the 21st century. However, Bucky quickly fall into the promises of lust and pleasure; changing girls like changing clothes. He let himself dosed in ecstasy, as if it was a drug to silenced the dark and haunting memories of his past, like it was a quick escape from reality, from the Winter Soldier.

Then, Y/N happened.

Bucky never saw it coming; but, he fell. Hard.

They were colleague for years and had been a good friend he can rely on besides Steve. She was so sweet and pretty. Probably the most gorgeous woman he ever laid his eyes on, in the hundred something year old life of his. Most importantly, she was kind and patient and strong and fierce yet so unforgivingly selfless.

But that didn't matter now, does it? Especially when she despise him. And it was all because of the unholy title he held.

At first Bucky didn't notice it, but now that he stepped closer into the living room, he heard it again. The rustling fabric, the quiet whimper coming from the sofa. His steps were as careful as a wolf on a hunt, stalking a hiding prey in between the trees.

If Bucky were to guess what he would find on a late night trip to the kitchen, he would've probably said 'ice cream' and not 'Y/N sleeping in the living room'. His eyes briefly raked her sleeping figure, curling uncomfortably into the pastel purple blanket. Then at the scattered pillows on the floor around her.

Why was she sleeping in the living room?

Another whine passed her lips and his attention was locked on her frowning face; it seemed like she was having a bad dream. Bucky carefully crouch next to her, and ravel in her beauty. Such delicate features, long lashes, pretty freckles across her nose, and those soft looking lips; he would kill just to taste her them, to sink his teeth in between them.

It worried him though; to see her sleeping here. She was clearly uncomfortable, it was a mystery that she managed to even fall asleep in the first place. Bucky suspected she simply passed out due to today's training. It was particularly hard, even for him. Let alone a normal human being like Y/N.

Not to mention the fight that they had.

Then, it clicked. The complains about how she had trouble sleeping. It wasn't just to make fun of him or tease him in any way. It was a plead. She needed to be heard and he completely blew her off with jest and jokes.

"Was it because of... me?" Bucky thought to himself. It all made sense now, "Shit." A curse rang in his mind when he bit the insides of his cheek. He was mad at himself. How could he be so insensitive? And he claimed to love her? Please. What an absolute piece of shit he was.

When Y/N began to toss and turn, her blanket fell from her body. Even in her sleep, the cold managed to catch her. She instinctively curled towards herself, seeking warmth but was no avail.

She look so small and Bucky felt a surge of need to cuddle her close, keeping her safe, keeping her warm in his arms. But if he does that, he'd probably get kicked in the nuts. So instead, he picked up the fallen blanket lay it back across her whole body; carefully not to disturb her sleep.

Bucky smiled softly when she snuggled into the fabric and before he walked away, he swore to stop this corrupting habit of his and apologize for being such a douchebag to her. And if he's lucky, maybe he could even properly court her.

But for now, he just needed to go through tommorrow's mission. So does everyone one else in the team.

"Do you realized what you have done?" Not matter how hard he tried to hold it back, everyone in the Quinjet can see how Steve was seething.

Y/N's lost of sleep had took a toll on her more than she realized now that it had affected her performance in mission. She tried to ignore the way she was basically seeing Steve's feet multiply by the second, and continued to look down in shame, "I'm sorry, Captain."

"Don't apologize to me. Nat's the one who got shot because of you!" He yelled as he pointed at the red haired woman at the side of the plane.

No matter how much she wanted to blame Bucky on this; how he literally robbed her from fulfilling her human needs to rest at night, but she just couldn't. It was her fault that Natasha got hurt. If she was more alert, she would've seen the enemy standing right in front of her. If she was awake enough, then Natasha wouldn't get hurt.

Tears threatened to form when she looked over at her dear friend, bleeding at the side, "I'm so sorry, Nat. I really am. I didn't know what came to me and I--"

"Oh please, I'd take a bullet for you any day of the week, honey." Natasha swiftly cuts into her apology, in attempt to diffuse the heated situation.

But, Steve totally disagree with her, "Don't make this 'okay', Nat. You almost died because for her carelessness. Being inadequate shouldn't be okay for any agent to do. It is extremely reckless and downright stupid."

There was a sound of a distant gasp from the pilot pit, "Language!" Tony was clearly trying to lighten up the mood but it failed rather miserably when no one reacted.

Steve had every right to be mad, especially when his girlfriend was injured because of this, but oh does it hurt to hear his stabbing words. It hurts more when it comes from the Captain America himself.

God, she was extremely tired.

Physically, mentally and that's what happens when a person is lack of sleep. Then when she thought about all her hardwork and struggles to train amongst the superhero themselves, she couldn't help but to crack; and the tears that was building up in her eyes finally fell.

When Steve saw it, he lost it completely, "Oh, you're gonna cry now? WOW. Real mature, y/n. You can't disappoint me more can you?" At that point, he was being a little too mean for anyone's liking.

Especially Bucky.

So Bucky slowly pulled Y/N back, and shielded her body behind his as he went on face to face with his bestfriend, "That's enough, Steve." He warned but Steve doesn't seem to get the idea, "No, Buck. Do you see--"

Bucky took one step closer, his menacing glare went right through Steve's soul, "I said... that's enough." He repeated his words. This time the message went through.

Steve gulped and cleared his throat as he waved a dismissing hand, "I expect a full report and a letter of apology from you when we get back, y/n." He ended his sentence with his back turned and then walked away towards his girl.

When Bucky turned around to face Y/N, she was but a crying mess. Tears kept streaming down and her lips quivered in so much sadness. Now, that she was in the light, Bucky could see the darker shades on the bag of her eyes.

This was his fault. If he just stopped goofing around and listen to what she had to say yesterday, she wouldn't need to go through this, "Oh sweetheart..." though he meant to call her in his mind, it might just slipped through his lips.

Y/N glared up at him, "This was none of your concern, Barnes." She spat.

He shrugged, "Well, lucky for you, I don't care whose it is. What I know is I care about you. Now, let's get that wound patch up." Bucky simply said, and that was when she realized that her ribs were slashed open, bleeding and torn. Maybe it was not too deep, that was why she didn't notice it.

But it is an injury nonetheless, and it was a surprise to her that Bucky noticed it. "I don't want your help." She frowned yet continued to sniffle.

"Yeah, but you need it." He replied as he carefully tucked the loose strand of her hair behind her ears.

Unable to think of any comebacks, she let her fatigue win over. Her lips shut tightly and her chest shuddered for breaths. And when Bucky took her hand in his and lead the way, her body instantly responded by gripping him tight.

Bucky's heart soared at the touch of her small hand in his, while fire was burning in hers.

She hates him. She hates how caring he can be. She hates how soft he was when handling her. And she hates how easy it was for him to make her fall for him even more.

Y/N's body quickly went on auto pilot; she let him undress the blood soaking top and patch her wounds. And Bucky let her cry her heart out on his shoulder all the way back home to New York.

That night when everyone had settled back to their own rooms, Y/N was prepping to sleep outside again. It was like a schedule for Bucky to always fuck whatever his frustrations out when they finished a mission.

And she doesn't want to hear any of it. Not tonight.

Thankfully, her wounds were mostly healed thanks to Dr. Cho and her ingenious of a machine, Cradle. That thing fixed the teared tissue right up with its regenerative functions.

Now, Y/N just needs to endure the bruises but those are bearable. What she couldn't bear is the lack of energy and goodnight's sleep. She wished to just pass out for days and not wake up even if a prince came to kiss her to wake.

And she knew that sleeping in her room won't give her that.

Y/N piled her pillows and blanket on top of another before scanning the room one last time to make sure she didn't leave anything behind. Because she was not planning to step foot in her room until dawn comes, hoping the sounds from the other side of the room died down by then.

When she was walking pass Bucky's, she noticed how awfully quiet his room was, but she didn't think about it too much. She waited for the elevator to open its door only to reveal the man himself, "Barnes."

He eyed how Y/N's figure almost hidden behind the piles of pillow in her hold. He stepped out as he asked, "Where do you think you're going?" Bucky knew exactly where but he was not having any of that.

It was weird to her that she didn't see any sign or Bucky's hook-up in his arms, but she bet that there will be one after she's gone downstairs, "Away from you, that's for sure." She said, taking a step into the elevator but instantly stopped the moment Bucky blocked her path.

Bucky lips flatten against each other; he didn't say anything, he only frowned down at her then simply grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to her room.

Utterly confused, "What are you doing? Hey, let go of me." She twisted her wrist in his hold, while trying to balance the pillows from falling. A useless trial it was; because who could even escape that metal grip of his.

Bucky quickly respond, "No. You're not sleeping on that shitty sofa tonight." He stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to her, "You're injured, y/n. You need on a proper rest on a proper bed." He coaxed.

How did he know that she had been sleeping on the coach? She thought before saying out loud, "I'm fine, Barnes. It's not even that deep of a wound, the Cradle fixed it clean. So, can you just... let go of my hand?" She sighed.

But Bucky refused to even spare her a glance, he silently tug her and stomp his way towards her room. There waa retaliation on her side, but his lack of response had lead Y/N to her defeat. She begrudgingly followed his long strides until she they stood by her bed.

He snatched each of the pillows and blankets off her hands, while Y/N simply blinked speechlessly as she watched Bucky started set up her bed like he had been doing it everyday.

Weirdly, at times like this, she found him extremely lovely. There was no corny and flirty comment about her, or his annoying habit of teasing every little thing she does.

There was just a comfortable silence and a kind gesture; the type that pulled the red strings of her heart just enough to make her want to dream of him.

Fucking hell, she can't believe that he managed to do that again! Making her fall for his antics. He really needs to stop doing that, it's simply rude.

Y/N broke from her love struck trance when she felt his cold metal laced around her hand again, he pulled her closer, "Now hop on, bunny. You need to rest." He lead her under the blanket and she grumbled curses under her breath, something about he need stop calling her weird nicknames like that.

When she was well tucked in and comfortable, Bucky sat at the edge of the bed by her side and spoke, "I'm sorry. For not trying to listen to you at the gym yesterday. I was a jerk."

His apology was so sincere that Y/N caught herself in a shock. Who is this man? What has he done to Bucky Barnes?

His eyes lingered to the wall behind her bed as if he was trying to find the right words to address it, "About the noises..." he trailed, "...it'll stop from now on."

Oh. Nevermind. She liked this Bucky. She wants to keep him forever, "Really? You mean it?" There weren't any effort put to hide her excitement when her voice nearly squeaked.

Bucky chuckled amusingly at her reaction, "Really, doll. But, you gotta promise not to sleep on the couch again."

Sparks of joy filled her chest when he confirmed his decision. Sure, it was such a small favour to do to anyone. But, she appreciate his efforts to make amends. "Hmm, I promise." She hummed happily, blinking slow as the comfort of her bed lured her into a drowsy state.

"Thanks, Bucky." Her mentioned his name.

Thank god for the super sensitive hearing ability, cause Bucky surely love the sound of her voice whispering his name so softly, "For apologizing or for tucking you to sleep?" He jest.

It only made her eyes rolled to the side and a smile spread across her face, "Both." she said. "And for what you did on the jet."

Bucky simply shrugged as if it was a normal thing to do. But, it wasn't. It was rare for him to challenge Steve like he did. And he did it for her, "Really, I owe you one." She said assuringly.

A playful smirk pulled on Bucky's lips when he spoke "Doll, you shouldn't be saying that so carelessly. Who knows I might use it for despicable things." Surely, he love to be the cause to bloom those red shades on her cheeks.

But it didn't happened when she asked quietly, "Will you?"

And the silence that came after was heavy with tenderness while their eyes spoke the truth to one another. As the thin lines in between got blurry, for once, there was just streams of genuine feelings pouring out of them, leaking through and contaminating the air with its magic.

Would he? Take advantage of her?

How could he though? He loved her too much to even think of purposely hurting her. "No." Bucky replied as he leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead, "Sleep well, princess." He mumbled against her skin.

And he pulled back, he grinned a cheeky smile. There it was; the pink blush on her face, wide surprise of her eyes and her slightly parted lips. She looked so adorable. He swore couldn't get enough of it.

"Kiss me again..." she nearly growled, but her blushing on her face didn't indicate anger, "...and I will choke you in your sleep." Though it was an attempt to threaten but typical of Bucky to just love to turn things around, "Hmm, is that an invitation, princess?" He purred and stole another kiss; this time, on her cheek. "Then, I will be looking forward to it." He whispered as quickly as he removed himself from the scene.

When he found his own bed, he couldn't help but to laugh at the muffled scream coming from the opposite side of the thin walls, "James. Fucking. Barnes!!!"

End.

Alternate ending (smut edition): Deleted Scene >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I hope you drop some thoughts behind before going to the deleted scene. Which I know you will. See you on the other side 👀

#jessybarnesreaches500 #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky #fuckboy!bucky #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #thin walls thin lines au

2K notes · View notes

chuuyrr · 2 months

Text

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 LET THE FEAR YOU HAVE FALL AWAY, I'VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU — FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY .ᐟ

𐀔·˚ CW(s): f! reader, bsd chapter 112 & 113 spoilers, religious themes, angst/comfort, reader is hinted to have an angel-like ability, poetic-ish writing

𐀔·˚ SYNOPSIS: like lucifer's descent from heaven's height, he fell and you followed

𐀔·˚ NOW PLAYING: say yes to heaven by lana del rey

in the grand halls of the museum, where the walls were adorned with masterpieces of art from centuries past, you first caught sight of him—fyodor dostoevsky, with his magnetic presence and mysterious aura, stood before a painting, his gaze fixed on the canvas as if it held the secrets of the universe.

amidst the splendor of renaissance masterpieces and timeless classics, you stood, a vision of innocence and wonder, your eyes drawn to the enigmatic figure across the room.

despite the warnings whispered by your intuition, you couldn't resist the urge to approach him, couldn't ignore the magnetic pull that seemed to bind you to him amidst the strokes of paint and layers of history.

fyodor continues to gaze upon the famous religious painting that hung on the far wall, depicting the fall of lucifer from heaven's height, "it's a hauntingly beautiful piece, isn't it?" you muse, your eyes lingering on the intricate details of the canvas.

he nods, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, his eyes not leaving the painting, "indeed, it is. it captures the tragedy of lucifer's descent, his fall from grace immortalized in paint and canvas."

"and yet," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, "i cannot help but feel a strange kinship with him, with the fallen angel who defied the heavens for love."

fyodor's gaze shifts from the painting to you, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of curiosity and understanding as you continue speaking, "you know, love has a way of defying the rules of the universe."

he murmurs his response, fyodor's voice carrying a weight of experience beyond his years, "it can lead us to places we never imagined, make us do things we never thought ourselves capable of."

you nod, captivated by the intensity of his gaze, "and yet, it can also lead to our downfall," you reply softly, a hint of sadness tingling your words. "like the fallen angel, we may find ourselves cast out from the heavens, destined to wander in the darkness for eternity."

"but perhaps," fyodor muses, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet carrying something heavy in it, "it is in the darkness that we truly find ourselves; in the depths of despair."

you are silent for a moment, lost in thought as you contemplate his words, "say, do you believe that we can find redemption, even after falling from grace?" you ask, your voice hesitant yet hopeful.

your question hangs in the air, a weighty silence settling between you and fyodor. his gaze, once warm and reassuring, now holds a hint of uncertainty, as if grappling with the complexities of your inquiry.

"redemption," he repeats, the word tasting bitter on his tongue, "a concept that eludes even the most devout of believers. for who among us can claim to be free from sin, to be worthy of redemption?"

you listen, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. there is a darkness in him that you cannot ignore, a shadow that clouds his every action and motive.

"and yet," fyodor continues, his voice softer now, almost pleading, "i cannot help but believe that there is hope for us yet. that despite our flaws and failings, we are capable of finding that salvation.. don't you think so, dear?"

you want to believe him, to cling to the flicker of hope that he offers, but doubts linger in the recesses of your mind. can redemption truly be found in the embrace of someone so steeped in darkness?

as you wrestle with your doubts, fyodor reaches out, his hand gentle against your cheek, his touch cold as ice, yet inviting like snow, "together," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil in your soul, "we can redeem ourselves, and find peace."

his words are a siren song, luring you deeper into the abyss. and though a part of you knows that following him will only lead to further darkness, you find yourself unable to resist.

for in the presence of this stranger, you feel a sense of purpose, and so, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by doubt, you choose to follow him into the unknown, clinging to the hope that somehow, you will find the light at the end of the tunnel.

fyodor knew, as he gazed into your eyes, that you possessed a power beyond measure. it was an ability born of innocence and purity, yet tempered by the trials of the world. he saw the light that radiated from your soul, a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded him.

and you, in turn, sensed the darkness that lurked within him, the shadowy depths of his being that he kept hidden from the world. but despite the warnings whispered by your intuition, you couldn't resist the pull of his presence, couldn't deny the longing that stirred within your heart whenever you were near him.

in shadows deep, where whispers weave,

two souls entwined, in love's deceitful sieve.

you, the angel with wings of gold,

he, the fallen, his secrets untold.

despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, you find yourself inexorably drawn to fyodor, like a moth to a flame. his charisma and conviction are like a siren's call, beckoning you deeper into the abyss of his twisted ideology.

as he speaks of blessings for the children and happiness to the world to your ears, you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. his words, laced with honeyed deceit, cloak the darkness of his actions in the guise of righteousness.

and yet, when he speaks of god and his desire for perfection and harmony, there is a fervor in his voice that is hard to ignore. he paints himself as a righteous crusader, a chosen vessel for carrying out the lord's will in a world plagued by sin.

but beneath the facade of piety lies a darkness that you cannot reconcile. you see the cruelty in his actions, the pain he inflicts on innocent souls in the name of his twisted version of salvation—from the rats in the house of the dead to the decay of angel. all of it.

his words offer a glimmer of hope in the darkness that surrounds you, but deep down, you can't shake the feeling of unease. you've witnessed the cruelty he inflicts upon others, the pain he causes in the name of his twisted vision of righteousness, along with the lives he took from others.

"what about those who suffer because of your actions?" you press, your voice quivering with emotion as your feathered wings of an angel folded behind your back, red splattered on white as if it was red blood and white snow, "do you believe they can find redemption too?"

fyodor's expression darkens for a moment, a shadow passing over his features before he regains his composure, "sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good," he replies, his voice cold and distant, "it is a small price to pay for the salvation of humanity."

you recoil at his words, the weight of his callousness pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. despite your doubts, despite the whispers of your conscience urging you to flee, you find yourself unable to turn away from him.

feeling the weight of your doubts and fears, fyodor's expression softens, and he reaches out to gently take your hand in his. his touch is cold, a strange yet comforting contrast to the warmth that had settled over your soul.

"my dear," he begins, his voice gentle and reassuring, "i understand your concerns. it's natural to question, to doubt, in the face of uncertainty. but trust me when i say that everything i do, i do with the utmost conviction, with the belief that it is for the greater good."

his words soothe the turmoil in your heart, if only for a moment. you find yourself drawn to the sincerity in his eyes, the earnestness of his conviction. despite the darkness that surrounds him, there is a flicker of something genuine within him, a spark of humanity that refuses to be extinguished—his love for you.

"and as for those who suffer," he continues, his voice filled with compassion, "know that i carry the burden of their pain with me always. it is a heavy cross to bear, but i do so willingly, in the hope of bringing about a better world."

as he speaks, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, a quiet acceptance of the path that lies ahead. in his embrace, you find solace, a refuge from the storm raging within your soul and as he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, you feel a warmth spread through you.

as the warmth of fyodor's embrace envelops you, you can't shake the nagging doubts that linger in the corners of your mind. despite his reassurances, you still can't help but wonder if the path you're on truly leads to redemption or if it's veering dangerously close to damnation.

and then, just when you least expect it, fyodor's gaze locks onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away, "do you love me?" he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, but it reverberates through the depths of your soul like a thunderclap.

his question catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. you find yourself drowning in the depths of his gaze, lost in the swirling currents of emotion that swirl within you.

it's as if he's pulling you in, drawing you closer with an irresistible allure that you can't resist. like a fallen angel tempting a pure soul yet to succumb to darkness, he wraps you in his embrace, his touch setting your heart ablaze with a fire you can't extinguish.

speechless at first, you find yourself caught in the gravity of fyodor's deep gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. his words echo in the caverns of your mind, stirring a whirlwind of emotions that threaten to consume you.

but fyodor doesn't wait for your response. instead, he continues, his voice a soothing melody that wraps around you like a comforting embrace.

"let your fear fall away, my love," he whispers, his words a gentle reassurance against the storm raging within your soul, "i am here for you, always. trust in me, trust in our love, and together we will rise above the darkness that threatens to engulf us."

his words are like a lifeline in the midst of a tempest, offering you solace and strength when you need it most. and as you gaze into his eyes, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, a quiet acceptance of the path that lies ahead.

"do you love me?" fyodor asks again, his voice filled with a raw vulnerability that pierces through the facade of his confidence, "say yes to heaven, to us. say yes to me, my love."

his words hang in the air, a silent plea that tugs at your heartstrings. and in that moment, as you stand on the precipice of uncertainty, you know that you have a choice to make. you can cling to the safety of your doubts and fears, or you can take a leap of faith into the unknown, guided by the hand of the one you love.

with a trembling breath, you meet fyodor's gaze, your voice barely above a whisper as you utter the words that seal your fate.

"yes," you say, your heart pounding in your chest, "i love you. i say yes to heaven, to us."

beneath the moonlight's gentle glow, fyodor draws you close, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that ignites a firestorm of passion within you. it's a kiss that tastes of forbidden desires and whispered promises.

as his lips press against yours, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your veins, a sensation so intense it threatens to consume you whole. it's a feeling you've never experienced before, a heady mix of longing and surrender that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

in that moment, you realize that you are no longer the innocent angel you once were. the blood of the lives you took stains your feathery wings, a reminder of the sins you've committed in the name of love. and yet, as you wrap your wings around fyodor, drawing him closer to you, you know that you wouldn't have it any other way.

for in his embrace, you find redemption, a sense of purpose that transcends the boundaries of morality and reason. and as you lose yourself in the intoxicating embrace of his kiss, you know that you have chosen your path, for better or for worse.

like a fallen angel corrupting a pure soul, fyodor has led you astray, tempting you with the forbidden fruit of his love and yet, as you surrender to the darkness that consumes you both.

as the helicopter carrying fyodor descends towards the building, panic grips the air. dazai and chuuya watch in horror, their voices drowned out by the deafening roar of the crashing metal.

nikolai, the ally of your love, tasked with keeping you restrained for your own safety, struggles in vain to keep you chained, but his efforts prove futile against the strength of your resolve.

with a defiant cry, your white, feathery, angelic wings unfurled with a majestic flourish. the chains that once held you captive fall away like brittle twigs, unable to withstand the force of your determination.

with a powerful flap of your wings, you launch yourself into the air, soaring towards the burning wreckage with a sense of urgency that borders on desperation. the wind rushes past you, whipping through your hair and stirring the feathers of your wings as you race against time to reach fyodor.

as your heart heavy with determination, you set your sights on him, your angelic wings carrying you towards the helicopter where he lies bloodied and impaled.

fyodor's surprise is evident as he sees you, freed from the chains that once bound you, rushing to his side. but as you reach out to save him, the flames engulfing the helicopter grow stronger, fueled by the chaos of the moment.

as you rush to fyodor's side amidst the chaos and flames, his surprise is palpable, "what have you done?" he gasps, his voice laced with disbelief and a hint of desperation, "why did you come after me?"

but you meet his gaze with unwavering determination, your voice steady despite the turmoil surrounding you as tears blur your vision, "because i'm longer afraid," you reply, your words a declaration of your unwavering love and loyalty, "and i said yes to heaven, to you. i love you."

fyodor's expression softens, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes as he takes in your words.

the flames of the crashing helicopter engulf you both, fyodor's mind races with disbelief. never in all his years, through all the eras he has traversed, did he imagine that someone as angelic as you would follow his descent into darkness until the very end.

despite your efforts, you realize with a sinking heart that it's too late. the flames rage around you, the turbulence of the crashing metal making it impossible for you to fly any longer. and in that moment of desperation, you know that your fate is sealed, bound together with fyodor's in a tragic twist of destiny.

dazai, chuuya, and nikolai can only watch in horror as the helicopter, carrying the two of you, descends into the inferno below, and it's a scene straight out of a nightmare, the fall of lucifer from heaven's height mirrored in the downfall of fyodor with you.

but in that fleeting moment before oblivion claims him, fyodor felt a surge of gratitude mixed with sorrow. gratitude for the love and loyalty you showed him, despite the darkness that consumed him.

sorrow for the tragedy that befell both of you, a consequence of his own actions and the twisted path he had chosen.

the world around him fades into darkness, but fyodor's thoughts still linger on you, his angel who chose to follow him into the depths of hell. and in that final moment of clarity, he finds a small measure of peace, knowing that even in death, you loved him, and he loved you.

as the heavens wept with auburn for your tragic tale, you danced on where shadows prevail. for he was both god and devil, intertwined, and you, his angel, forever confined.

and in the echoes of your love's demise,

you cherish the moments, beneath starlit skies.

for in his darkness, you found your light,

a love that burned, fierce in the night.

𐀔·˚ TAGGING: @aureatchi @soleelia @little-miss-chaos @cheriiyaya @himikoslove @atzuhi @enjisthings @chizenn

𐀔·˚ A.N.: this is my first ever fyodor fic, hopefully he wasn't too ooc, and as for the plot? the start where you and him meet was inspired by @/aureatchi or reverie with her fondness for fyodor and museums. it felt so so fitting !! also the angst and comfort of the plot was very intended ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

#fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd fyodor #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs x reader

296 notes · View notes

rubyreduji · 9 months

Text

timeless — ljh

summary: you’ve just met jihoon, yet something about him feels familiar

tags: fluff, romance, reincarnation?, gn!reader warnings: arranged marriages, mentions of death and war reader notes: no pronouns or explicit gender descriptions but they do take a more feminine role in history, jihoon picks up the reader but my mans is strong okay don’t worry wc: 10.3k an: i’ve been writing this for over a month now fjdskla and i like the finished product but im a bit worried the format is choppy but either way please enjoy and show it lots of love...also happy first fic of the 2nd year of rubyreduji!!!

“Soonyoung, stop it!” You scold your best friend as he giggles at you.

“Just go talk to him!” Soonyoung tells you, pushing you towards the door to the antique shop next to your favorite boba place.

Him refers to the cute cashier you always see through the windows when you and Soonyoung go and get boba (which is about three times a week). It’s nothing more than a hallway crush but Soonyoung keeps insisting that it could be more than that if you would just go talk to him.

You don’t actually want to talk to the boy who stands at the counter with a smile, but before you can stop him Soonyoung is opening the door to the store and forcing you inside. When you turn around to chew your best friend out, you find him not there, his back already retreating to the boba shop.

A part of you wants to just dash back out the door but the bell attached to the door has already gotten the attention of the cashier and you can’t escape now.

“Welcome to The Eternity Emorpium, today anything marked with a green sticker is 20% off.” The voice isn’t what you expected Cute Cashier to sound like but when you turn around to face him, you realize you’re not talking to Cute Cashier at all.

Rather than the tall boy with glasses you’ve been peeking in on for the past few months, you come face to face with a short yet buff boy with long black hair. He most definitely is not the guy you came in for, but you have to admit he is just as (if not more) cute than the other cashier.

You’re not sure how you didn’t notice that your normal Cute Cashier wasn't behind the counter, but in your defense you were too busy fighting off Soonyoung.

You give the new cashier—who you have now dubbed Even Cuter Cashier—a smile, before pretending to look at all of the memorabilia set out. The actual shop is nice with an obvious theme and specific layout that only someone with an eye for aesthetic and organization could create. On the speakers a Bruno Mars song is playing and you wonder if it's the cashier who has control over the music or just a general store playlist.

You feel awkward walking around the shop, letting out fake hums every once in a while to make it seem like you're actually shopping and not just sneaking glances at Even Cuter Cashier whenever you can. You stop in front of a playing card deck and you pick it up, flipping it over in your hand a couple of times.

"Oh, we just got those in," Even Cuter Cashier says, startling you a bit. "Put them on the floor this morning. You into cards?"

"Oh, uh," Shit. This is your chance to talk to him, "yeah. My dad is more of a collector than I am, but I can see the appeal."

"Nice. Yeah I'm more of a guitar collector myself, but my wallet wishes I wasn't," he says and you both laugh.

"That's cool though. I would love to learn how to play an instrument but I definitely don't have the talent or patience for that." As you speak with the man you slowly start to drift towards the counter.

"Hey, anyone can be talented, it just takes practice." You quickly glance down at Even Cuter Cashier's name tag to see his actual name is Jihoon.

"Good inspirational quote, but I think I'll just stick to the playing cards," you tell him with a grin as you set the pack down in front of him.

Jihoon just pushes the cards back to you and when you give him a questioning look he just grins. "They’re on the house.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” you tell him.

“I wanted to,” he says. “Maybe it’s just my plan to get you to come in here again.”

You smile at Jihoon, your face starting to turn a bit hot. You pick up the pack of cards and bid goodbye to the cashier before turning and leaving. Soonyoung is standing outside the door with two boba cups in hand. He peeks in when you open the door and frowns.

“That’s not Cute Cashier.”

“Nope! That’s Even Cuter Cashier,” you tell your best friend.

“You’re abandoning the other guy already?”

“I can’t abandon someone I don’t even know,” you scoff, “and anyway, I think I like Even Cuter Cashier. Something about him…it feels like destiny.”

Soonyoung laughs at you, but you ignore him, your mind still lingering on the dark haired boy from earlier. The more you think about him, the more your heart starts to grow warm. You can’t place it, but something about Jihoon feels familiar, and you need more.

1500s

“You are to be married to Prince Wonwoo before the solstice hits.”

Your head shoots up, staring at your father, not sure if you hear his words correctly. There’s no possible way he said that. You can think of a dozen reasons why that’s impossible, a few including: 1. You’ve never met Prince Wonwoo in your life, why would he want you as his betrothed? 2. You two did not have a courtship and it would be a scandal for you two to get married without presenting as a couple to the public first. 3. Your family is not nearly important enough to be noticed by royalty. 4. (And this is the biggest one) You are in love with someone else.

Well, your father doesn’t know that you’re in love with someone else, but it’s still an important fact to note.

Despite all of these reasons, your father continues to talk about the arrangement, not noticing the shock on your face. You wonder about how it came to be, and without you hearing even a whisper about it.

“You will be meeting with a royal advisor in two days, please do not cause any trouble.” With that your father walks ways, leaving you with a million questions brewing your mind.

The main one being: how are you going to tell Jihoon about this?

For over a year now you’ve been seeing the same man, sneaking out whenever you can to meet him. He came into town with a bang (quite literally — his caravan practically falling apart with all of his belongings crashing to the ground as it did) and you’ve been captivated by him since.

Your days are never boring when Jihoon is around, the two of you either going on adventures or hanging out in Jihoon’s (new) caravan. Though, you think your most favorite times spent with Jihoon are late at night, when you two meet up on the outskirts of your estate grounds, right on the edge of the forest.

There never is any guessing as to what Jihoon has planned. Some days you two walk around the garden under the moonlight, talking and gazing up at the stars, while other nights you’re whisked off to another town to dance the night away in a hidden tavern. You love the guise of the night, being able to do whatever and be whoever without the fear of onlookers and their judgment. It’s just you and Jihoon in your own little world.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been keeping him a secret for so long, you like keeping him all to yourself. No one can taint your relationship if they don't know about it. Though you suppose that has backfired on you now.

You don’t see your father for the rest of the night and when the sunsets and you slip out the back door and walk down to the forest edge, you do it with a heavy heart. As always Jihoon is standing next to the tree he carved your initials in, a wide grin on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

As soon as he spots you approaching his face lights up in a grin. He trots up to you the rest of the way, scooping you up into a hug.

"I've missed you," he says, pressing kisses to your lips and cheeks. You giggle at his antics.

"You saw me two days ago, my dear."

"Oh but that's two days too long for an aching heart in love."

Other people may think it's cheesy but you can't help but adore the sweet way Jihoon talks to you, always putting his poet background to good use. You smile as Jihoon holds you in his arms, but soon the good mood is ruined by the news you remember you have to break to him.

"What's wrong, my love?" Jihoon asks, seeing the fallen look on your face. He reaches up and pushes your hair out of your face, a habit he has picked up since you two met.

You just sigh and shift so you're out of Jihoon's embrace. Automatically you miss his strong arms around your waist, but you can't bear to look at him as you talk.

“My father has given me away to another man,” you tell him in a hushed voice.

“Who?” Jihoon responds automatically. “I won’t let him take you. I-I’ll fight.”

You finally turn towards Jihoon, the solemn look still firm on your face. “I’m betrothed to Prince Wonwoo.”

“Prince Wonwoo?!” Jihoon looks taken aback. You don’t blame him. Suddenly he deflates. “How am I going to beat that?”

You’re not sure how to respond. The truth is Jihoon can’t compete. That doesn’t mean you’re going to give up hope on him, though.

“We’ll…we’ll figure something out,” you finally say. You step closer to Jihoon, allowing him to wrap you up in his embrace once again.

“I’m not giving up on us,” Jihoon tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll be fine. We have to be.”

When your father told you you’d be meeting with a royal advisor, this isn’t exactly what you were expecting.

When you arrived at the castle you were amazed at the size of it, but you weren’t allowed to gawk for long, being ushered into a sitting room where two men were already conversing. Neither were your soon to be husband though and you wondered when you might actually get to meet the prince.

The two men soon introduced themselves as Soonyoung and Mingyu, two of Prince Wonwoo’s most trusted men. Now two hours later, you’re starting to question the judgment of your betrothed.

Not only are the men completely scatterbrained and disorganized, they also seem to bicker more often than not, making it difficult for you to understand everything they’re telling you. The only thing you really comprehend is that you’re going to be spending a lot more time with the two men up until the wedding.

You’re given a schedule at the end of the day, your upcoming weeks all planned out for you already. Meeting with wedding coordinators, royalty training, garment fittings, and everything else of the like. You frown, thinking about your normally free schedule has now been filled.

Luckily for you, the meeting finished earlier than expected and you don’t hesitate to direct yourself towards the area where Jihoon’s caravan resides. Your lover is delighted to see you but before he can get any words out you’re throwing yourself at him, pulling him into a kiss. You’re desperate to drown in Jihoon and forget reality even just for a moment.

It isn’t until later that you and Jihoon finally exchange words.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jihoon says. You two lay next to each other on his bed, bare bodies pressed together under the linens. Your head rests on his chest and his hands card through your hair. “Was I not satisfactory in taking your thoughts away? What is troubling your mind so much?

“Prince Wonwoo.”

“You’re thinking about Prince Wonwoo after laying so intimately with me?”

“No! Well yes, but- I- shut up,” you grumble, smacking Jihoon’s chest, making his laugh.

You’ve never met the prince before, though you are well knowledged on him. It’s hard not to be when he is to take over the crown in a few years. You try not to think about how that will make you the queen consort.

You’ve only seen Prince Wonwoo in person a handful of times, none too recently, but you still know the prince is very handsome. Not as handsome as you find Jihoon, though you may be a bit biased. He’s also said to be kind, smart, level-headed, and well calculated. You suppose it could be worse.

“I met with his advisors today,” you tell Jihoon. “I guess it’s just all hitting me. This really is going to happen.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Jihoon moves so he can stare at you in the face, “no matter what happens, I will always love you. My heart is still yours.”

“And mine yours,” you tell him softly. “I love you Lee Jihoon. Never forget that.”

You don’t see Jihoon for a while. Your schedule is packed with futile meetings that take up your day and with the news of your engagement to the prince (who you have still yet to meet), there are guards outside of your estate at night.

You suppose you are fortunate that Mingyu and Soonyoung have grown on you in the past few weeks. Though you still think them foolish, you also have a fondness for the pair. You see why Prince Wonwoo puts his trust in them. You find yourself wanting to confide in them, though there is one thing that still remains a secret.

It isn’t until the night before your wedding that you see your love. You are able to lose your guards for a second and you make a beeline straight to Jihoon’s caravan. He’s still awake, sitting outside and staring up at the starry sky when you approach.

“My dear,” you call out to him. Jihoon looks away from the sky to meet your face, a look of surprise flashes over his face before they form into a soft smile.

“You know you really shouldn’t be out so late at night, it is not safe.”

“Well then, why don’t you help me find some shelter kind sir,” you tell him. Jihoon just grins and grabs your hand, pulling you into his home.

You two spent the night wrapped up in each other, exchanging soft kisses and even softer words. When the morning comes Jihoon is still asleep when you awake and while you’d love to give him a proper goodbye, you know you already pushed your luck enough spending the whole night out.

You quickly find a quill and some ink and you grab a piece of Jihoon’s writing parchment and scribble a quick note to him before slipping out the door. It’s only after the caravan is out of sight that you let your tears fall.

The first time you meet Prince Wonwoo is at the altar. Up close he’s even more handsome than you imagined, with soft facial features and kind eyes. You can’t help but still feel a bit disappointed, staring at the stranger in front of you as you recite your wedding vows.

The chapel where you are being wed is packed full of people, mostly nobility. Your attire is suffocating, despite being fitted for it thrice. Across from you, the prince keeps a neutral face and you wonder about his own involvement in this arrangement.

He’s dressed in a formal outfit fit for royalty. The colors pair with your own dressings and you wonder what you two look like from the outfit. A newly bonded couple who will eventually be ruling the whole country. Are you two a handsome, strong presenting couple? Or do you two look like two fools who have never met before?

You were surprised at the way the public took the news of the engagement. You were expecting backlash against the prince, but he is well loved by the public and they were all happy to see the young man finding a partner to settle down with before stepping up to the throne. Despite never having been seen together in public before today, there was a wide talk of your (fake) courtship and how you must be very lucky to have the prince hold your heart.

If only they knew that a lonely, penniless poet was the real caretaker of your love.

It isn’t until the words leave the officiant’s mouth that you realize you will have to kiss the prince. Not only to end the ceremony but for the public to see you two unite as one. You must look as taken aback as you feel because your now husband takes the initiative, stepping forward to close the distance between you two.

Wonwoo cups your face gingerly, his hands are cold and his fingers are boney. He stares at you for a moment, dark eyes gazing into your soul, before he finally leans in.

The moment his lips press against yours you want to jerk out of his hold. It feels wrong. Your lips don’t fit together nicely and there’s no warmth exchanged between you two. You’re both stiff and you note how Wonwoo’s lips aren't as full as Jihoon’s.

The kiss is over within seconds but the damage has been done and you can’t shake the dirty feeling that has grown under your skin. Wonwoo’s hand slides down your arm to clasp your fingers together. Another sign of unity for the public. You force a smile on your face, but the only thing you can think about is how your heart is miles away, in a small caravan on the edge of town.

My love,

I am not sure how you were able to convince the prince’s closest man to be a part of this, but I cannot say am I ungrateful for him. Though I do find him quite eccentric (and slightly obnoxious) I must give him my gratitude.

I miss you tremendously, but the past few letters you have sent me have been acting as bandages over my heart. I read them whenever I feel an ache of your absence, which is quite often.

It is unfortunate you find royal life boring. If I could, you know that I would sweep you off to the farthest lands where we would explore the area during the day and revel at night. I would show you the large world out there and we could experience new joys together.

How I long to have you lay by my side at night. To feel your soft, tender skin against my fingertips. It pains me to even think about it, but it would kill me not to.

I will never stop fighting for us.

Write back soon,

Your Jihoon

My darling,

I saw you today. I was taken quite off guard when I saw you riding in the carriage, next to Prince Wonwoo. I admit, you two make a handsome couple, but not more handsome than us.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen your beautiful face in person, that even seeing you with another man made my heart sing. I couldn’t pull my eyes from you, doing my best to soak in the sight of you because you were once again gone.

You looked quite winsome sitting in the carriage, but you did not look like you. Are you required to wear such extremities every day, or were you dressed for the occasion? Either way I cannot imagine the process of getting ready to be a swift one.

If I am being honest I do not find the purpose of such efforts. Does the prince not find your natural beauty fit to his standards? If so then off with him. Any person with eyes would be fortunate to gaze upon you. I know I was.

Seeing you has only made me yearn more for you. I know it has only been a few weeks since your matrimony to Prince Wonwoo, but to me it has been lifetimes. How I crave to feel your touch, to hear your voice, to kiss your lips.

I know that the idea is futile but I will never give up on you. No matter what, I am still yours. And I hope you are still mine. Even if I only see a glimpse of you once every decade, my heart will still burn for you.

Forever yours,

Your Jihoon

To my heart,

Though you are always in my thoughts, you have been overtaking my mind more often than not lately. Please do not think I am upset about this, it is quite the opposite, but I am afraid I have been missing you a great deal more than usual.

Maybe it is due to a conversation I had the other day. I was at a tavern, catching up with an old acquaintance who was in town, and you came up. Jeonghan questioned if there was a reason why I had settled here and wondered if it was ‘due to my heart’. I laughed and confirmed his suspicions.

We spent a deal of time after that talking about you. It felt liberating being able to speak of you to someone else. I must have rambled on for at least an hour before Jeonghan finally cut me off, telling me how lucky I must be to have someone like you in my life. I had no choice other than to agree with him.

Speaking about you and thinking about you has thrown me into a tumultuous frame of mind. It is quite shameful how often I get lost in fantasies of us and what I wish we could be. You have overtaken my mind, body, and soul. There is not a single night where I do not dream of you.

I hope our future king can see how fortunate he is to be married to you. I would kill thousands of men to be in his position. Your smile itself is worth more than every jewel on his crown. I know I am just waxing poetic at you, but that is my job.

I know we must stay apart, but please mourn the future we could have had for me. Please write back to me with every thought you have about our imaginary future, because even if I cannot have the real thing, my dreams will be enough for me.

Dream of me as well,

Your Jihoon

The life between you and your husband is…comfortable. You two talk, but not often and seldom about anything that is not shallow or mundane. You two sleep side by side at night but the last time you two touched each other was when you danced at your wedding and while his days are spent in meeting, yours are spent wandering the castle grounds and having tea with Soonyoung and Mingyu.

The only thing you find yourself looking forward to in your days anymore is the nightly lettering that you receive from Jihoon. It was only a week into the marriage when Soonyoung noticed how miserable you were. Without being able to hold it in anymore, you told the man about your lover and your heartbreak. It was then that Soonyoung suggested he help you out, acting as a carriage pigeon to deliver letters to and from Jihoon.

One night you are sitting at the desk in your shared chambers with Wonwoo, writing your letter for Jihoon, when Wonwoo speaks up. He is sitting on the bed across the room and his deep voice startles you, not used to talking to the man like this.

“Are you happy?” Wonwoo asks you bluntly, after calling out your name. You take only a moment to form an answer.

“I am content, my lord,” you tell him. Though you have stopped referring to the man as “Prince Wonwoo” in your mind, you cannot help but tack on the formal titles at the end of your sentences to the man.

“But you are not happy. Why?”

“Rest assured your highness, it is nothing you’ve done.”

“Does it have anything to do with the letters Soonyoung delivers to you each evening? The letters you are writing back right now?” You freeze in your seat. You were unaware he knew, but the prince is not ignorant. You suppose you couldn’t keep it a secret forever.

“I-”

“Do not mistake my curiosity for accusation. I’m aware this arrangement is not an ideal situation, and I would not be upset if there was another. I would not even be upset if you wish to be with him,” Wonwoo says.

His words trouble you. There is a benefit for both of you in the marriage, but his words imply he is not exactly happy with the arrangement either. The offer to let you leave him is strange though, and causes you to fault for a moment.

“I am not going to abandon you, sire,” you eventually respond. “I have made an obligation to you.”

“No, your father did. Though we are not well acquainted I still hold empathy and I do not want to be what is keeping you from your happiness. From your happy ending.”

“Either way my father’s word is say, so I will do what he asks of me. It is an honor to be wedded to a man of your status,” you tell him, trying to convince yourself more than anything.

“But that is all it is: status. What about love?”

You don’t answer. You sit there and stare down at the letter you are writing to Jihoon. You think about the wooden box hidden in the drawer that holds his letters.

“Please, I do not wish to cause you turmoil. If you want to go, I will not hold you back,” Wonwoo says.

You finally turn to look at your husband. “You are very kind-hearted, but I cannot accept that offer. I will not tarnish your reputation like that. Do you know the talk that would rise if they heard the soon-to-be king’s spouse up and left? What would your father do to mine? It is too risky.”

Wonwoo has a morose look on his face, like he knows you’re right. “Tell me about him,” he says, surprising you.

You hesitate. You should not talk of your lover to your husband. It is unorthodox and unbecoming. You look at Wonwoo’s curious face though, and you can’t help yourself.

“He’s a poet. I’ve never met someone who can use words the way he does. Even in things as simple as short letters or passing comments, he can make it sound like the most romantic sentence ever uttered,” you tell Wonwoo.

“Tell me more.”

“He has a kind soul, like you. He’s very exciting to be around. He used to travel the world, so I love to hear him regale the tales of his adventures. He likes to take me on our own little adventures as well. One time a traveling show came through a neighboring town and he got us tickets to go watch.”

“You love him greatly.” It is not a question. You just nod to Wonwoo. “You light up when you speak of him. In a way I’ve never seen before.”

You don’t know what to say to him, so you turn your back to him once more, resuming your letter to Jihoon.

You love Jihoon, everyday apart from him feels like you’re struggling to breathe, and under any other circumstance you wouldn’t have stopped at anything to be with him, but you are not under those circumstances. You fought your father, refusing the marriage, even telling him you loved someone else, but he did not listen. He told you this was the one thing he would put his foot down on.

You can’t blame him, how often does someone get the chance to marry a prince. The things this marriage is doing for your family is immeasurable and you cannot in good conscience leave them without a second thought. Not to mention the damage it would do to your family’s reputation, let alone Wonwoo’s. Your family would be shunned by the public and Wonwoo would be labeled a joke of a king.

Not to mention if it was ever discovered what really happened. What would happen if everyone found out why you left? You and Jihoon would surely be ostracized. Town piranhas in even towns in other kingdoms. Jihoon’s career as a poet would be over. You can’t imagine that being a happy life.

Not that you’re particularly happy right now either. You wish you didn’t overthink everything, or else you would have left the town even before you got married. You and Jihoon could be living in his caravan, just you two alone, safe and sound and happy.

It is too late for that though, and now you have to pay the consequences. Married to a man you know nothing about. A man who seems to be rooting for you despite the outcome. It makes you frown. Maybe your first step in figuring it all out is figuring out your husband first.

“Have you ever been in love, my lord?” You decide to ask Wonwoo one day while walking the castle’s grounds. As of recently you two have gotten closer, an interesting bond forming between you two, though most of your time is spent talking of Jihoon. Wonwoo never draws back on his suggestions that you follow your heart.

“Not in the way you are. I was very fond of someone a long time ago, but they loved someone else.” You frown at this news.

“Please excuse the crudeness of my words, sire, but then why do you put so much mind into my love? Do you not wish to be wed to someone?”

“I do,” Wonwoo answers after a moment of contemplation, “but I do not want to be the reason why true love is separated. You and your Jihoon, you are a story of fate. Who am I to get in the middle of it? The public likes me enough, I will be okay. No matter what, I will be okay, but will you?”

Your heart aches and yearns for Jihoon, and your husband is not making it easier. That may have been his goal though.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask Wonwoo. You frown as you stand in front of him, your stomach in knots of worry.

Wonwoo just gives you a soft smile. “I am sure. If anything, I should be worrying about you. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes. Both Soonyoung and I checked twice. You have ensured that everything will run perfectly.” You reach over and take your husband’s hands in yours, squeezing them tightly. “Thank you, Wonwoo. For everything.”

“Ah, it is the least I could do. Now, you have somewhere to be and I cannot keep you waiting any longer. Send me letters, okay?” With a final squeeze of your hands, Wonwoo lets you go. You smile at the man once more before turning away from him and not looking back.

You slip out of the castle through the servant’s doors and quickly make your way to the outskirts of the grounds. It reminds you of all those times you escaped your own house to meet Jihoon at the edge of the forest. The thought makes a grin grow on your face as you speed up your pace even more.

Just like all the previous times, when you get to the edge of the estate Jihoon is standing there waiting for you. You launch yourself into his arms, allowing him to pick you up and twirl you around. He’s giggling high pitched and gleeful as you two spin around in each other’s arms.

When Jihoon finally puts you down he doesn’t waste a moment and leans in to kiss you. You happily kiss him back, grabbing his face and holding him in place. You can feel a wet stream of tears run down your face, your heart bursting with joy as you reunite with your lover.

His lips are familiar against yours and you automatically feel at home. For the first time in months you can relax, finally back in Jihoon’s arms.

“It’s you,” Jihoon muttres when he finally pulls away. He brings his hands up to caress your face.

“It’s me, my love, it’s me,” you tell him back, tears still flowing freely.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you more.” You lean in and press another quick kiss against Jihoon’s lips. “But we will never have to miss each other again.”

“I’m never letting you go,” Jihoon tells you, gripping you tighter. “Oh how much I love you.”

You giggle. “I love you more. Now come on, let’s get out of here.”

You grab Jihoon’s hand and pull him away from the grounds to where his caravan is waiting for you two. As you two travel further and further away from the town you feel your heart grow lighter and lighter, excited for the rest of your life of adventures with your love.

The next time you see Jihoon is nearly a week later. You and Soonyoung are once again getting boba when you spot the boy behind the counter, just like last time. When you and Soonyoung went and got boba a few days prior you noticed that the original Cute Cashier was working, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment at him not being Jihoon.

As soon as you lay eyes on your Even Cuter Cashier, you quickly make a beeline into the shop, your desire for boba long gone.

Jihoon looks up when he hears the sound of the bell ringing and his eyes soften into a smile when he sees you entering through the threshold.

“You came back!”

“I did. It’s hard not to, with the amazing service I got last time,” you say. You casually browse the store as you talk to Jihoon, glancing at him every so often as you do.

“Well I’m glad that my plan to get you to come back succeeded.”

You giggle at Jihoon’s words as you stop in front of a stack of old photos. You flip through them, looking at all the memories they hold. Many of the photos depict different couples, all smiling brightly as they hold each other. The images put a smile on your own face.

“Find something good?” Jihoon asks and you jump a bit at the closeness of his voice. When you turn, you see the man standing by your side.

“Oh, yeah, just these photos! Aren’t they beautiful?” You tilt them a bit to show them off to Jihoon. “I think it’s so amazing that no matter how the world changes, love will always stay the same.”

“Huh, I guess you’re right. Love’s been around since the beginning of time.”

“The love these people were feeling in these photos is the same love we experience today. There really is nothing like it.”

You look back down at the photos. The one in your hand shows a woman clinging onto a man’s arm, her cheek pressed into his bicep as she smiles at the camera. The man himself is smiling as well, though he is smiling down at the woman, rather than the camera.

“They’re cute,” Jihoon mumbles, his own eyes transfixed on the photo.

“Yeah,” you say, “I wonder what’s their story.”

“Something happy, I hope,” Jihoon says before moving to walk back behind the counter. You grab a few more photos from the stack before following after him, placing them on the counter.

Jihoon smiles at you and starts to ring you up. You take a moment to stare at him, your eyes tracing over his fluffy hair and round face and kind smile. You don’t stop staring until Jihoon breaks your focus.

“What? Does my hair look stupid or something?” He grins lazily at you again and you feel your heartbeat quicken.

“Uh, n-no! It’s just…your smile is super familiar to me. Sorry, that may be weird.”

“No, no, it’s not. I guess I kinda felt the same thing the first time you came in,” Jihoon tells you. “Who knows, maybe we knew each other in a past life.”

You chuckle at Jihoon’s joke, but you don’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

1951

War Against North Korea Rages On, No End in Sight

You frown at the heading, throwing the newspaper aside onto the counter. The news of the North Korean troops invading Seoul changed everyone’s lives, throwing the country into a state of chaos trying to keep them from completely overtaking all of South Korea. Now a year later, the war is still in full force and though you know it’s important to stay updated on what’s happening, you don’t bother with the news articles anymore. They always say more or less the same thing: the war continues on with more casualties and less hope of ending soon.

Your heart grows heavy with each day growing worse than the last. You wish there was more you could do to help the war efforts, but you’re stuck at home taking care of your sick father. He’s the only family you have left, after your mother’s death a few years ago. All of the money received from her passing has gone into your father, but since the start of the war prices have done nothing but skyrocket.

So you spend your days at home taking care of your father, and your nights in a factory working to earn an income. You don’t mind the work though, allowing your mind to focus on something that isn’t the war or your father.

The only other time you get a break, an actual real break, is on Saturdays. It’s the one day in the week you allow yourself to go out, spending the afternoon to yourself getting groceries and taking time to focus on yourself.

You go through the same routine, walking down to the port and spending a few minutes enjoying the waves lapping against the shore, the salty sea water scent filling the air as the summer breeze brushes up against your skin. After taking in the sight of the sea, you move further into town and down the street to the cemetery.

Every Saturday you visit your mother’s grave, sitting with her for a while as you update her on your life and the current events. Occasionally you will bring a book and read aloud. You find the time spent with her calming, her maternal love enveloping you and letting you rest, even for a small bit of time.

Afterwards you browse the shops in town (only looking, never buying) before heading to the market to finish your day off. You spend the money for the groceries to get you through the week before heading back home. You do your best to walk most places you go, not wanting to spend the fare for the trollies.

The streets are busy on the weekend and on your walk back to your house, someone bumps into you causing you to drop your bags, all of your freshly bought groceries tumbling to the ground. The person doesn’t even stop and you can’t bother chasing them too. You just sigh and bend down to pick up the now unusable goods.

You now have to turn around and go back into town to get more groceries. It will take a good chunk out of your funds, but not too much. Maybe you’ll pick up a few more shifts at the factory.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” As you’re thinking about how to make up the price of the ruined groceries, you miss the man who has walked up to you.

When you look up you see a beautiful man with a sweet round face and dark hair staring down at you. He’s dressed nicely in a suit and it takes you a moment to actually respond to him, too distracted by his good looks.

“Pardon?”

“I was asking if you were okay?” The man bends down to help you pick up the rest of the food spilled on the ground. “I saw that man bump into you and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh! I’m fine, thank you.” You smile at him, appreciative of the kind gesture.

“But all of your groceries are now ruined. Allow me to buy you more.”

“Oh no! That’s not necessary,” you quickly tell the man. You don’t even know him and you would feel guilty allowing a man who didn’t even cause the casualty to pay for your groceries, especially with the state of the economy.

“I insist,” he says, standing and then helping you stand as well. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Sir it really-” Before you can even finish your sentence the man was walking away, back towards the town. You could just go back home, but then you’d be left with no groceries for the week so you begrudgingly follow him back to the market.

“Lee Jihoon, by the way,” he tells you as you two walk around the market, collecting what you need. You give him your name as well and he grins, a small spark igniting behind his eyes as he tells you how lovely your name is.

When you’re done regathering what you need you move to head to the register, but Jihoon stops you.

“This is all you’re getting? It’s barely enough for any proper meals. Please, add more. I won’t mind, I demand of it actually.” Jihoon then moves to add more to the basket and once again you have to follow along as Jihoon is the one carrying it.

You protest each time a new item is added but Jihoon keeps hushing you like you’re a life long friend rather than a stranger he met on the street no more than thirty minutes ago. By the time Jihoon is satisfied with what’s in your basket, it’s full to the top and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much food in your life. Guilt eats away at you as you think about the money Jihoon is about to drop on you just because someone else made you drop your bags.

It isn’t until you’re checking out and Jihoon casually pulls out multiple banknotes without even a blink of an eye that you realize that not everyone lives like you and that just maybe Jihoon doesn’t mind paying so much because he has the money laying around to do so. Even back when your mother was alive and your father was able to work your family was still paying for everything with scraped up coins.

The sun is already low in the sky by the time you two exit the market and Jihoon stops you once more. “Allow my driver to take you back to your house.”

The sentence alone confirms your suspicions on Jihoon’s monetary status. To own a car is a luxury of its own, but to have a driver as well seals the deal.

You already can tell it’s impossible to turn Jihoon down so you just follow him back to his car. You wonder if his driver followed you after you two walked to the market. When you two get into the car you tell your address to the driver, trying not to get embarrassed at the thought of the nice car driving through your run down little neighborhood.

Jihoon’s driver just nods and starts up the car. The three of you sit in silence until the car pulls up to your house and you climb out. Jihoon does as well, helping carry your groceries to the door.

“It was nice meeting you,” Jihoon says. “If you ever need anything again, give me a call.” He holds out a small white card, his business card, to you. You take it and thank him once more before entering your house, your mind still lingering on the strange, rich man.

You don’t give Jihoon a call, but you don’t have to. You run into him again not even three days after your first interaction. It’s early in the morning and you’re heading back home after work when you hear your name called out. When you turn you see the man’s car rolling up next to you, his head poking out of the back seat window.

“What are you doing walking alone so early in the morning? The sun has barely started to rise.”

"I'm walking back home from work," you answer honestly.

Jihoon's face looks sour at this, like he couldn't imagine working so late at night. "If you have been working all night let me treat you to breakfast."

It's your turn to let your face screw up slightly. You know that Jihoon can afford to buy you breakfast, but you still don't want to feel indebted to him. Not to mention your father will be waking up soon and you'll need to make his breakfast as well. You tell Jihoon as much.

"Then I will buy breakfast for your father too," is his solution.

You're not sure why he keeps insisting on buying you things but you just sigh and climb into the car. Jihoon has a smug grin on his face as he tells his driver where to go.

A few minutes later the car pulls up in front of a diner and you and Jihoon enter. It's nothing extravagant, but still a treat for those with a tight budget.

The two of you sit in silence until a waitress comes and takes your order. Jihoon doesn't allow you to order for yourself, picking what he tells you are the most delicious and filling items. He orders for himself and then a third meal, asking the waitress to not cook it until she brings the check.

You note the way Jihoon has a nice presence to him, friendly and warm and inviting. The way his soft features are accentuated when he smiles, his round cheeks puffing up and his eyes squinting. You find him fascinating, but there's something more than that, something drawing you to him.

"So, where do you work that has you walking home at six in the morning?"

The question breaks the ice between you as you fall into a natural conversation, asking questions and trading answers. Your hesitations towards the man quickly ebb the more you talk.

You learn he's a highly successful businessman but the war has halted much of his work which has given him some much needed down time. Like you, he doesn't have many living family members and he's an altruistic man so much of his money is left unspent.

Before you know it both of your meals are finished and the waitress is bringing over the check and the packaged meal for your father. Just like at the market, Jihoon pulls out his banknotes and pays before escorting you back to his car.

When you arrive at your house a part of you feels disappointed that the morning with Jihoon is over. Now it's back to the real world.

You're halfway to your door when you suddenly turn back around. You don't know what causes you to say it before you can stop yourself you spit out, "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? It's the last I could do after all of your kindness."

Jihoon beams in front of you. "I would love that."

Bloodiest Battles of the War So Far, Conscription Soon to Follow?

Five months after you meet Jihoon he knocks on your front door, a letter clutched in his fist. There's a grim look on his face when you open the door and you know automatically.

The Battle of Bloody Ridge, follwoed by The Battle of Heartbreak Ridge, took out many of the soldiers on the frontlines and the country was now desperate to find new ones to replace them. A mandatory conscription for any young man who was eligible to join the military.

It didn't take long for you and Jihoon to start a relationship after your first few meetings. He's the perfect man, taking care of both you and your father and showering you in nothing but love and affection. The thought of him so far away, in the direct line of danger, makes a lump grow in your throat. Your chest tightens as your heart aches.

"We'll be okay," Jihoon mutters into your hair as you cry silently into his neck, holding him tightly. Like if you hold him tight enough he won't have to leave.

That's not how the world works though, and you accompany Jihoon on the day he is to deploy.

"If you need more money just send me a letter and I'll take care of it, okay?"

"You've left me with plenty already, love," you tell him as you fix his jacket collar. "Just come home safe."

"As long as you make sure I have something to come home to."

You can already feel the tears welling up in your eyes and you lean forward to press your lips to Jihoon's. He kisses you back, putting all of his love into it. A promise to you, that you will see him again, that this isn't your last kiss.

With one last squeeze of the hand Jihoon boards the bus and you're left alone, a heaviness in your heart and worry forming under your skin.

You just have to keep telling yourself he'll be okay, he has to be.

December 19, 1951

To the one my heart has gone to,

I hope you don't mind the frequency of my letters, I just feel closer to you know that eventually you'll hold the same paper in your fingers. I miss you tremendously, to the point my heart aches thinking of you.

Do you know that when you send your letters they smell of you? I always keep your most recent ones safe, in hopes to preserve the smell for just a little while longer.

There's not much to report about today, which I suppose is a good thing. Better than something hectic or even worse, a battle.

Unfortunately it still doesn't look like there will be a break anytime soon. Battle after battle, life after life. It's not easy, but I've come to like the other men in my unit. Jeonghan takes good of us and Seokmin makes nice company.

I don't want to keep you long, but I wanted to make sure you'd get a letter for before the holidays hit. Merry Christmas my love.

I'll make it up to you when I get home okay? For now just keep me in your dreams.

Write back soon, please. I want to hear what my lover has been up to. Keep me updated on your father as well.

All my love,

Your Jihoon

March 22, 1952

Today was hard.

I'm doing unwell as I write this letter, but it would pain me more not to send you my update.

Kwon Soonyoung died next to me today on the battlefield. It is not the first time a man has died near me, but it is the first time it was a man I have grown fond of. He was only a few months older than I am.

As grim as it may sound, and as much as I will mourn the loss, I am grateful that it was not me in his place. It was a difference of mere inches and fate chose Soonyoung. Does it mean anything? Is there a reason why I lived and he didn’t? I’m not sure but all I can think about is that his sacrifice is giving me a second chance at going home. Does that make me a bad person?

Everyday I pray this nightmare will be over. The thought of you is the only thing encouraging me to go on. I think about coming home to you, kissing your sweet lips, holding you in my arms.

We’ve been apart longer than we were together and I beat myself up for that everyday. I wish we would have met earlier, but as soon as the war is over we will have all the time in the world. Just you and me.

Wish me home soon,

Your Jihoon

November 30, 1952

To the home of my heart,

You have been on my mind all of today, not that you aren’t always on my mind normally. It has been particularly hard today though. It’s been a full year since my departure from you and every day has been harder than the last.

It’s hard to sleep at night and I often lay awake and think about you. Sometimes I will take a walk and look up at the sky. The moon and the stars are thousands of miles away but they still seem so close and bring so much comfort. That’s how I feel about you. Gazing at the moon also helps because it is still the same moon that you are under as well.

Look at the moon and think of me okay? Maybe one night we will be looking at the moon at the same time and I will be able to feel you just a bit closer.

Whenever I am able to fall asleep, I dream about you. I dream about the thought of you laying next to me. I wish to kiss your soft lips and feel your warm skin and look into your shining eyes. I dream of the life we will build together when we are reunited at last.

Would you marry me, my love?

I know it’s silly asking over a letter like this, and asking with such a strange courtship, but something in me feels the need to ask. Ever since I met you on the street that one fateful day, I’ve known you were the one for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so please accept my proposal (I promise to give you a proper one the second I get home).

The other men keep teasing me about you, but they just don’t understand the love we share. Being with you, even just the thought of you, it feels like home.

A part of me wonders if I’ve secretly loved you my whole life. It sure feels like it. No matter what I know you were made for me and everyday I bless whatever force brought us together. I love you so much it drives me crazy.

When I get home let me take you out on a thousand dates to make up for the time lost.

Please send me your answer soon,

Your fiance Jihoon

February 01, 1953

To my dearest,

I’m writing to you from the infirmary. I was shot in battle earlier, nowhere too fatal just the leg, but I just woke up from the procedure to remove the bullet and patch me up. I’m lucky to come out with nothing more than a scar. Some other men aren’t as lucky.

It seems everyday is a new fight, but it’s worth it if it gives me a chance of going back home to you. We’ll buy a house close to the port, so you can be near the ocean breeze. Every night we’ll walk the shore and watch the sunset together. Then on Saturdays I’ll accompany you on your errands. We’ll go to town together and get groceries and visit the cafe and do whatever your heart desires.

I’ll buy fresh flowers for your parents every week.

We could get a cat to keep you company while I’m at work and you could quit that heinous job at the factory. That would give you more time to focus on yourself. You and I both know that my wealth is more than enough for just the two of us.

Our house shouldn’t be too big, but still a good size in case we ever have guests over. I think we should start a garden as well.

Ah, my love, thinking about our future is nice. It helps me wish for the future, helps me feel closer to you. Thank you for being my safe place away from this nightmare. I should rest more now, but please remember that I will always spend everyday loving you.

Pray for my speedy recovery,

Your Jihoon

July 07, 1953

Jagiya! I apologize for the lack of letters recently, things have been so hectic around here, but I write with good news!

The talk around camp is that the negotiations have been making a move, there is finally an end in sight. I cannot wait to get back to you. It has been far too long since I’ve seen you and the photo I carry of you has started to fade already from how often I admire it.

I cannot stay to write for long, but I needed to send you an update and a reminder of my love. I promise we will be back together soon.

Go to town and buy some flowers for yourself okay? Today is worth celebrating.

I can’t wait to see you,

Your Jihoon

You’re jittery as you smooth down your shirt, waiting for the bus to pull up. The same bus that took him away nearly two years ago.

When all of your friends heard about your beau, they all called you crazy. Holding out for a man who has been gone for quadruple the amount of time you spent together and you guess maybe it is crazy, but for Jihoon you would do anything.

It is true that you two were only together for five months before his deployment, but even before he left you knew you were madly in love with Lee Jihoon. You spent your nights reading the letters Jihoon sent you, and writing ones back. You would think you two had been lovers for fifty years rather than five months.

You’ve always felt the pull towards Jihoon though, like you’ve been loving him all your life. Every letter he sent made you fall in love with him even more, and now two years later he’s finally coming home.

The days were hard without him when you saw him nearly everyday before he left. Winter of 1952 was less than kind, taking your father with it and leaving you alone for the last seven months, wishing for nothing but for Jihoon to come home. Now he is and you couldn’t be more elated.

The people standing around you start to cheer when someone catches sight of the bus, but you can’t do anything but stand there, your heart pounding in your chest. When the bus stops and soldiers start to pour out you have a moment of doubt. The fear that Jihoon won’t want you anymore, that everything has changed for the worse, creeps into your mind.

The thoughts can barely form though because then Jihoon’s stepping off the bus and his skin is so much tanner than it used to be and you’ve never seen him with his hair so short but it’s Jihoon, your Jihoon. His eyes light up when he catches sight of your familiar face and he’s dropping his bags and running towards you.

His arms are locked around your waist and you’re being lifted off the ground. You cup Jihoon’s face in your hands and lean down to kiss him as he spins you two around, easing all of the worries in your mind. Your cheeks dampen as tears start to stream down your face, too many emotions coursing through you to keep them all on the inside.

You keep your hands on Jihoon’s face as he sets you down. You stroke his cheek, feeling his warm skin under your touch. “You’re here, you’re really here.”

“I’m here my love, I’m here, and I’m never leaving you again.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you and Jihoon to leave the station. You two sit in the back of his car, pressed together as Jihoon presses kisses to your face every few minutes. You’re not much better though, leaning into him with a dopey grin on your face, ready to start your new life with the man you love the most.

The next time you see Jihoon isn’t at the antique shop at all. You’re getting coffee at the cafe next to your apartment when you see the man walk in. His eyes light up a bit when he sees you and he makes a beeline to your table after getting his drink.

“Is this seat open?” He asks, pointing to the empty chair across from you.

“Of course.”

Jihoon takes a seat before turning his attention to you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Maybe it’s fate,” you say teasingly but Jihoon just grins.

“Maybe it is,” his voice is smooth as he talks, and your breath gets caught in your throat, “I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if I was destined to meet you over and over again.”

You break his gaze, trying not to show him how flustered you are. “You’re quite the sweet talker you know? You don’t know anything about me-”

“No, but I don’t think it would be hard to learn. I’m starting to think we’re not really strangers at all. You can’t tell me that you aren’t a bit interested in me as well.”

You glance back at Jihoon to find him staring intently at him. His eyes are warm and deep and you can feel yourself being drawn in, like you’ve stared at those eyes a million times before. There’s an inviting sense to all of Jihoon and the only thing you can think of to describe it as is home.

“Okay,” you tell him with a slight grin. “Let’s see if destiny is right.”

And really you don’t care if it is fate or not, because as you and Jihoon fall into a comfortable conversation you realize that the two of you meeting was no mistake, and that you could definitely love Lee Jihoon for multiple lifetimes.

taglist: @ckline35 @toruro @jeanjacketjesus @namjoonbaby @n4mj00nvq @lovelyhan @ovai @scorpiobitch88 @im-gemmy @lllucere @tulipgarland4 @embrace-themagic @sulkygyu @leejihoonownsmyheart @synthetickitsune @yeosayang @miraclewoozi @d0nghyck @soonhoonietrash @violetvoo @yongi-lee @spilled-coffee-cup @morklee02 @17kwans @candidupped @ressonancee @m1nghaos @1-800-jeonwonwoo @anothershorthuman @chwecardcaptor @jwnghyuns @flwrshwa @valentxi @heavenly-mobo @pandorashbox @enhacolor @starlight-night0 @todorokiskitten @miriamxsworld @just-here-to-read-01 @sunnyteume @debsworld23 @seuomo @tinkerbell460 @strawberri-uyu @hotricewoozi @luvthatleader-nim @lorde-oftherings @marzmeltdown (also tagging @gyuswhore bc taylor swift lol)

join my taglist: here!

#lee jihoon #woozi #woozi fanfic #woozi fluff #woozi x reader #woozi x gn reader #gn reader #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen x gn reader #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #rru.fics #rru.writes #★ sfw #★ taylor swift

561 notes · View notes

cacti-are-like-flamingos · 9 months

Text

Shared Moments...

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Living Waters

...

Usually, you wouldn't mind time going fast. The faster it went, the closer to a break you got. But those two...when you were with those two, you begged the clock's hands to slow down. Swearing to give it anything it wanted, in return for just a few mere minutes. It didn't have to hours nor days nor months, not even years--- just a few minutes is all you asked for. Was that too much to ask?

You would never admit to them, especially not Gojo. But you've actually started to enjoy hanging out with them. They didn't even have to do anything, just being in their presence proved to be enough to scare away the aching loneliness that seemed to continuously plague you.

Back then, it never got this bad. Then again, you were easily able to speak to others. And while, the aid of Haibara and Geto have gotten you close to some kind of fluency, you still felt insecure enough to not speak publicly.

Not to say, you're silent as a lamb. (Iykyk) On the contrary, they've never seen you so talkative (not as in, you're being a chatterbox. It's just that back then you would utter out like a sentence or two depending on the person. The only time you spoke more than that was when you were cursing out Gojo in your native tongue. Now that I think about it, maybe that's why he annoyed you so much. That way he could hear you more. Huh.)

First year was turning out to be quite the breeze for all of you --- albeit, training sucked sometimes. To be more specific, training with Gojo was annoying. Not because you couldn't take it, more of a --- he just wouldn't stop talking!

It's like that's all he was born to do. Talk and talk and talk.

In spite of that, the silver fiend did have moments where his words would bubble out laughter out of you. He'd say something so out of pocket that you just couldn't stop yourself from laughing much to Geto's disapproval. (That's another thing you both have in common, you're both the literal incarnations of out of pocket shit. The both of you say things that would make the fucking Joker from Batman blush)

After training, you'd throw yourself besides Geto. Not too close, not too far. Just close enough to feel his warmth, and you'll just lay there for a moment. Taking in the sight of the blue sky and the dancing leaves...until Gojo proceeds to throw himself on you as always. The fucking bastard...

Eventually, he'd get off of you. Thanking you for being such a good cushion, to which you'll flip him off as you skip over to Geto, whom you've developed the habit of keeping a hold of at the ends of his uniform. It started out when they took you to one of Japan's major festivals, you don't remember which one, but what you do recall was the amount of anxiety you felt as you tried to transverse the crowds. Desperately trying to keep an eye on both their heads --- you were only so tall!

Next thing you know, you did it out of desperation. Not wanting to lose them again.

You'll never forget Geto's surprised expression that soon shifted into a genuinely sweet smile, one as soft as a cheery blossom petal. (Haibara actually took you to see these. This is where he told you to call him by his name)

Gojo likened you to a lost puppy, contrary to Ieiri's belief of you acting more of a cat (the others agreed you were more like a cat cuz I like cats better than dogs)

Speaking of Ieiri, both of you loved to go out shopping. She'd invite other girls from other schools to introduce, that's how you met Mei Mei and Utahime.

Surprisingly, you and Mei Mei seemed to get along. Mainly because your sense of fashion was incredibly similar. Elegant and timeless has always been the way to go. Also, you like money, she likes money --- what more could you ask for?

Also she spoke your language (she does business overseas to increase her profits so she makes it a habit to learn as many languages as she can. The more she knows the more opportunities she gets)

In a way, you understand her way of thinking. In spite of that, you disagreed with all of it. Good thing you knew when to keep your mouth shut, you had a feeling she'd be a lovely ally in the distant future.

As for Utahime, how could you not get along with her? The two of you fawn over cute animal cafes. She once took you to this Capybara one, as a treat for being such a good Kouhai, and you were over the moon. Mainly because you've never seen one and now you were feeding one!

This is actually the moment where Gojo crashed your hang out, stealing you away for serious big-boy business. You protested the entire way, shouting at Ieiri to give the other women your phone number just in case before letting yourself be whisked away by the toothpick

You glared at him, "Where's the rest of you?"

Cue in Geto greeting you with a bag of your favorite treats to make up for Gojo kidnapping you. Worked like a charm.

"Pig." "Shut up, Tampon." Cue Geto holding on to a table, laughing his ass off as Gojo stared at you over his sunglasses flabbergasted. You were the only person to ever leave him speechless, on multiple occasions.

He instantly burns red as he berates you, which you only roll your eyes at as you feast into your threats, "Says the mouthwash." Gojo and Geto look at one another, confusion written in their faces. Gojo speaks first,"Mouthwash?"

You hum in delight, nibbling on a mochi treat, "For the amount of women that had to suck you off and then spit it out like mouthwash."

Geto's not even in his chair anymore, he laughed so hard that he ripped the seat back and fell onto the concrete below. Gojo is now absolutely glaring at you with narrowed eyes, giving up when he couldn't think of a better come back.

When you get back to school, they have a tendency to escort you back to your dorm or if you're still feeling peckish, guide you to the question and hang around while you make yourself something to it. It's not even a conscious thing, they just do it out of sheer habit. The moment your eyes settle in the direction of the kitchen, they just know

There's a counter with some stools so they chill there, casually talking to one another about the most randomest of things while you dance around the kitchen gathering your ingredients

Gojo will steal some while you offer Geto some (and because you know Gojo likes to steal, you make it a habit to make a bigger portion.)

Often times, you can't really sleep so you like to wander about the school grounds. That's how you came across Nanami. He was sitting on a couch in the recreational room, wet towel over his eyes. He looked so tired, poor guy.

The moment he heard your footsteps, he snapped his head your way. Letting the towel fall onto his pants as his brain took a moment to charge enough to actually process your presence.

Even when tired, he's polite.

You have a fresh warm cup of some traditional drink from your home country, something that'll help you fall asleep and rather than drinking it yourself, you gift it to him. Of course, he'll reject. But we all know how stubborn you can be.

As he drinks, he'll actually talk to you about his day and the missions he had --- seems the more exhausted he is, the likelier he is to open his mouth.

Your drink helps him sleep whilst his voice lulls you to sleep

Eventually, the two of you fall into a routine of sorts. You'll find him trying to sleep in the recreational room, so you'll go and make him a drink from your home land. And as he sips on it, he'll talk until you fall asleep.

Nanami would be the first to wake up. Upon seeing you sleeping by his side, he'd pick you up. Quietly carrying you over to your down where he would tuck you into bed, whispering his thanks before leaving your room.

One time, Gojo caught the blonde in the act. Nanami had to calm him down before he destroyed the whole area. He happily placed you into the nuisance's arms, uttering a soft thank you to your sleepy ears, and left to go slumber.

Ah, your dorm room was simply just too far. Just the weight of you alone so hurting his arms (that's a lie if you ever knew one) ah, what are you saying brain? What about his dorm room? It is closer. In fact, it's right around this hallway that he's already been walking through since Nanami placed you into his arms.

There's barely anything in his room as he settles you down into his bed, draping a blanket over your figure. The velvety ones he knows you like (this isn't the first time, you found yourself asleep in his bed. The last time you were seeing god from all the amount of benadryl you took and somehow sneaked your way into his room. You will deny this day even to God himself)

You had made a comment that his sheets and blankets were just too scratchy. Not long after, all of his bed stuff had been replaced by satin and the good kind of cotton.

Setting his sunglasses on the nightstand beside the bed, he got ready to sleep.

Tugging the blanket up, he slid in beside you. An arm of his settling under the crook of your neck as talked a hand onto his sternum, feeling his heart under breath the fabric while you dreamt.

Even in your sleep, you shied away from complete touch. Yet you unconsciously allowed yourself the simple indulgence of a heart beat and the warmth of another besides your own.

The next day, when Geto woke up to wake his bestie up. He momentarily froze at the doorway before pulling out his phone to take a picture of the both of you. Snickering as he did so.

He'll always tease the both of you about that night, stating that he never took either of you as 'cuddle bugs'

And yet, the photo is his home wallpaper.

Hypocrite much?

...

(A/N): I have yet to sleep but I have no regrets. These two make me want to die.

Check out my masterlist for more The Cursed Trio content

Song Inspo: HOAX - into the blackhole

If you don't like being to touched, then why did you let Gojo touch you?

Huh, Mei Mei is an...interesting character. Wonder what we got there.

Drop a comment

Feel free to buy me a 🦩

Hope you enjoyed!

#gojo x reader x geto #gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo x geto #gojo satoru x geto suguru #reader #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #romance #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #the cursed trio

527 notes · View notes

rayroseu · 6 months

Text

This line is making me sad akjdkakdks its making me imagine that once Malleus sees that his overblot causes pain rather than making the people of his life happy... he'll realize that "he is no good as a king at all since he harmed his people"😭😭

"Seeing you all worry helped me calm down..." ARGHH IT MAKES ME THINK OF THE SCENE WHERE HE SAW HOW ANGUISHED SILVER WAS ABOUT LILIA'S DEPARTURE... Like... I CANT??😭😭 HE'S SO CARING ABOUT THE HAPPINESS OF OTHERS BECAUSE THATS AN EMOTION HE RARELY FELT SO HE VIEWS IT AS THE MOST PRECIOUS FEELING ??

but sadness and partings and goodbyes..."harms happiness", thats why he just created a world where it never exists... He's not just doing it for his own desires KSJAKDJWKD plus if "all dreams come true" none of the previous overblots wouldve occured and they'll live a peaceful life... but living that way would stagnate their growth... they'll be living the same life repeatedly without any improvements towards themselves

that's why even if Malleus' overblot stems from a good intention, his vision is not applicable to a human life as we all require growing up, overcoming hardships, admitting our mistakes and developing out from that... Those painful feelings are what makes a human life more meaningful and allows a person to give themselves a genuine good life. 🥲🥲🥲

But Malleus who's still in the state of "learning to be human", he cannot naturally perceive that kind of moral.

I just hope that after Book 7 there's no narrative implication that Malleus' coping was flat out purely wrong lol Bcs as Yuu said, everyone wishes they won't lose anyone important to them either...

Going back to the fact that he feels responsible for the happiness of others... I think Malleus lives his life very literally...

I think it was Lilia who said this...(?) That Malleus' power (or the Draconia's power in general) gives happiness to the people of Briar Valley (as their power can protect the dark faes) 🥲✨

Maybe this is the reason why he's "so desperate" in keeping the happiness of others and also giving them blessings that'll surely make them happy...

Okay separate theory... Maybe I'm just overthinking lol But the occurence of "falling" in TWST is so fascinating to me since thats a heavy reference to "Alice Falling In Wonderland" yk

Book 6 we already had Idia falling to the Underworld because he wants to follow Ortho, There's this implication that Overblots "falling to a deep sleep/darkness" thats why all overblotees "wakes up after their own overblot... I wonder if Overblot Malleus will take a fall as well??? His overblot title is "The King of Abyss" but I doubt that the "timeless Sage Island" is the abyss yk? What if we actually learn about the origin of Overblots through Malleus Overblot?

Because in the trailer we can see him snapping out in awareness(waking up) before he's trapped in thorns in what seems to be an Abyss--- So maybe, we won't defeat Malleus Overblot bcs he'll wake up from it (presumeably once he realizes that his overblot caused Lilia and the others pain???) but him breaking his overblot wont be possible bcs the "darkness" will engulf him of smth

I'm thinking of this because the existence of Overblot is so weird. General Lilia should've recognized the blot when it was taking Silver because of his despair since before Leona's overblot, he knew the vibes of whats occuring yk and same thing with Malleus with how he knew that he's planning to overblot, plus he knows the existence of STYX whos focused on overblot too

But strangely, the mages of the past (Meleanor and Knight of Dawn even Lilia and Baul) dont seem to possess any magic limitations concerning blot accumulation, additionally they dont even have magestones (that they use to gauge their blot consumption like NRC pens). Which makes me think that "blot or overblot" was not a "trait" that existed naturally in mages???

Since TWST world's history is implied to be changed... I wonder if blot existence was something that "a being" made up/cursed upon all mages lol

Idk where Im going with this tbhhhh ajsjaj but I just think its suspicious that only human magicians is heavily concerned with blot accumulation... whereas Malleus and Lilia never worries about using magic too much...

So wild guess, maybe Maleficia (since shes the only powerful person here lol) cursed "magic in general" so humans will never be on par with fae's magical abilities no matter how hard they develop it

Ig its to never repeat the "occurence of another Knight of Dawn" who's magic is even stronger than faes since he has no limitation so she created blot to curse humans to limit their magic else they'll fall into "darkness" idk

#twst #notes #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #lian notes #disney twst #twst disney #twst theory #twst glorious masquerade #twistedwonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland book 7 #twisted wonderland theory #BOY THIS GOT OUT OF HAND AJDHAJDJW

148 notes · View notes

sailor-aviator · 7 months

Text

Meet Me at the Sea: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: None.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Here it is! The new series that absolutely no one asked for, but I decided to give to you! But seriously, I'm really excited for this one because it's been in my head for months, so long before fanfiction even crossed my mind. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. 18+ ONLY!!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I will be posting updates there as well.

Series Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

You had always been fascinated by the ocean, drawn to it really. You supposed that most people were. The ocean was where all life originated, after all, and perhaps there was some innate desire to return to where one once came from. A desire so strong that it was embedded into the very fabric of one’s being to be passed on to future generations.

That’s what you mused, anyway. You, however, had very little experience with the sea, having grown up in a land-locked area of the country. The closest you had ever been to a large body of water was the local lake in the nearby state park. The closest you had ever been to the ocean, were the times you had successfully convinced your parents to take you to the aquarium in the city. You would spend hours there, entranced by the different creatures. You’d stare as the all the fish and different sharks swam above you in a timeless dance that you so desperately wished you could join in. Your favorite part, however, was always the stingray pool. You loved how affectionate the creatures seemed to be, eagerly swimming closer to the surface so that your fingers could glide down their backs. You could stay there forever if the aquarium didn’t have a strict closing time.

Your love for the ocean translated into your every day life too. You had several figurines from your visits to the aquarium, but your prized possession was a stuffed cownose ray your parents had gifted you oh so many years ago that you had affectionately named “Rusty.” This often surprised people, who assumed it would be the porcelain figurine your grandmother had brought back from one of her overseas trips for you

The mermaid was beautiful, yes. Her skin glowed with how pale she was, hair floating like she was still in the water. Her tail was painted a light blue that almost looked silver. You adored the figurine, of course, but she was certainly no rusty.

So, it came as no surprise to anyone who had met you that you chose to pursue marine biology in university. Your parents had been so proud when you had been accepted into Duke University, but they had also been hesitant.

“That’s a long way from home,” your father had reminded you. “If something happens, it’ll be hard for us to come and get you.”

“Your father’s right, dear,” you mother had frowned. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

And you had been. You had never been more sure of anything in your entire life. So, you had packed what you could and your parents drove you out to your new home for the next four years. You had made several friends during your time at school, but the one that stood out the most was Bob Floyd.

Bob was a quiet guy, but he was funny and quick as a whip. You had met him in one of your biology courses freshman year, and you found out quickly that he was also studying marine biology.

“What got you into the field?” he had asked you.

“I don’t know exactly,” you had hummed. “I suppose I’ve just always loved the ocean.”

You turned to him. “What about you?”

“Me?” He laughed. “Oh, I grew up on the coasts. Right here in North Carolina, in fact. My hometown is just a couple hours away from here.”

“Oh, so you’re a local,” you grinned.

“I suppose you could say that,” he smiled.

You two had been inseparable ever since. Well, at least during the school year. You would take small trips with your girlfriends during weekend breaks, only flying home for the longer ones, much to Bob’s annoyance.

“When are you gonna take me up on my offer to just spend the summer at my folk’s place?” he huffed in a laugh. You rolled your eyes playfully at him from where you lay sprawled out on his bedspread, several textbooks scattered around you. Bob was seated at his desk, textbooks also cracked open as the two of you studied for finals. “I’m serious, y/n. It’s senior year, and I’d really like if my best friend would come hang out with me for the summer.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you started, stopping when Bob scoffed, shooting you a scowl.

“You’re never a bother. And where’s that same attitude when you’re over here eating all of my poptarts?”

“That’s different,” you giggled.

Bob glared playfully at you. “I beg to differ. Besides, you’d be doin’ me a favor. I’m always so bored when I’m at home. I could really use the company.”

“Wow, what a ringing endorsement,” you joked, Bob rolled his eyes. “I’ll think about it, alright? I want to see what my parents have planned.”

As it would turn out, your parents had planned a trip abroad for the whole summer, and you were left with no other option but to accept Bob’s proposal.

“Don’t sound so happy,” he had laughed. “You love the ocean, and the house is right on the beach.”

“I am happy,” you countered, loading your bags into the back of his car. “But, I’m worried that I’ll just be an imposition.”

“For the thousandth time,” Bob said with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “you are not an imposition. My parents love you, remember? Sometimes, I think they like you more than they like me. Do you really think they would have let me invite you if they didn’t? Hell, I had to fight’em to keep’em from inviting you themselves.”

Bob’s parents were a sweet couple. Susan was a stay-at-home mom turned entrepreneur, while Richard was a tech developer, and both absolutely adored their only son. They had latched onto you the second Bob had introduced you to them during one of the home football games they had driven up to see, and now they considered you the daughter they never had.

“How did they react when you told them I was coming?” you asked him with a grin. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Pretty sure there’s a mountain of balloons waiting for us when we get there,” he mused, closing the door to the trunk. The two of you rounded the different sides of the car before getting in. Once your seatbelt was fastened, you looked up to see Bob giving you a peculiar look. You returned it with a confused one, and he looked down pointedly at your lap.

“Rusty does not sit in the back,” you said, hugging the stuffed ray closer. Bob let out a little laugh as he held his hands up in surrender.

“You sure you remembered everything?” he asked you as he started the car. You nodded, shifting in your seat to get more comfortable.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright then,” he grinned, turning to you. “Let’s get goin’.”

173 notes · View notes

angelbarelywrites · 28 days

Text

♡ scenarios | dating negan

♡ fandoms; The Walking Dead

♡ characters; Negan Smith

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; explicit sexual content

♡ notes; in case anyone forgot i’m technically not a dedicated slasher blog

i put this in sections so i didn’t have to make more than one post lol . also these take place while he’s still the ruler of the saviors. i’ve been obsessed since his first episode oh my god that’s eight years of hyperfixation so that’s usually where my brain goes plot- wise

i’m thinking Billy Butcher is up next? lmk who else we wanna see, Garcia Flynn from Timeless is probably too niche? but i love him so so much

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

I. Kisses/PDA

> negan is an affectionate person

> with his wives it’s just for show- they’re hot, and he wants all his followers jealous of his lifestyle

> but with you, it’s different

> his wives don’t like him, per-se. he’s convenient to be married to and easy on the eyes, but they’re cold to him

> and he knows why, he doesn’t really give a shit. especially now that he has you.

> you may not be his spouse- you’re sure as fuck not letting him call you that without a ring- but he’s even more physical with you

> standing by him? hand on your back. sitting? you’re on his lap. look cold? he gives you his jacket and keeps you tucked under his arm

> “i just like takin’ care of you darlin’”

> and he loves kissing you in front of others- from little pecks to long, lingering kisses that makes other people look away

> he seems possessive, and he doesn’t mind people pointing it out

> it’s not that he doesn’t trust you- it’s never that

> he trusts most of his men too…maybe not simon. because simon loves staring at your ass

> but he’s proud. he’s proud you’re his, and he’s yours, and that he gets to show you off

> and like hell he ever lets anyone forget it

> alone he acts like keeping his hands off you is impossible

> he smacks your ass any time you lean over, pulls you into big bear hugs from behind and randomly pick you up

> he doesn’t ever want you to doubt his feelings for you, and physically is the easiest way for him to show it

> he’s very sexual, big shocker

> but his favorite kisses are sleepy kisses

> you wait late into the night when he’s due home from terrorizing his territories

> some part of you is afraid one day he won’t come home- so you always wait

> you’ll be exhausted, rubbing your eyes and yawning and usually wrapped up in a blanket

> but no matter how long he takes directing his men and double checking inventory and dealing with the dead

> “hey there, baby doll”

> you always run straight into his arms and bury your face in his chest. he’ll laugh and pick you up, kissing you gently before he carries you to bed

> most times he falls asleep on top of the covers with you, eager for the morning when he can make it up to you for being gone so long

II. Sharing a bed

> negan isn’t used to sharing a bed anymore

> the wives have their own rooms just down the hall, and so do you

> no reason for him not to give you at least a little space

> and having a room is the height of luxury in the sanctuary anyways. it’s a perk of dating the boss

> but you don’t know how to tell him you do want to share a bed, even though you’re barely apart when you’re awake

> so you just…don’t. you assume it’s a boundary he wants to keep and don’t mention it

> until the night terrors start up again

> you’ve seen a lot of people die a lot of different ways. most of them people you cared a lot about

> the memories always seem to come back in your dreams no matter how far back you push them

> when you’re woken up by one in the middle of a harsh storm, it’s just a bit too much

> you just can’t stop crying, and it’s loud and you need held. you need him.

> you creep as quietly as you can down the hall, and you hesitate at the door until the thunder crashes again

> when you stumble in he sits up fast with a knife in his fist

> then he gives a slightly annoyed sigh in recognition, relaxing

> “the hell are you doing?”

> “i just- um-“

> you can tell he notices the wobble in your voice and opens his arms up without another smart remark

> “hey, hey, i’ve gotcha..”

> he doesn’t ask questions- you don’t cry for nothing. and he gets nightmares too

> falling asleep in his arms feels natural…so natural it becomes a habit

> and he sleeps better with you too, curled around you and holding you so tight you think he might be worried you’ll disappear

> it’s less than a week before you stop using your bed altogether

III. Let’s get kinky

> he’s happy in pretty much any dominant role, whatever you call him is good enough for him- daddy, sir, master, etc

> and he likes when you call him whatever it is in front of his men

> the only chance of getting your dick/strap in him is if he power bottoms. but 95 percent of the time? you’re receiving and it’s big

> he likes being risky. he’ll take you out to visit settlements just to have an excuse to stop and fuck you in the car

> or even in a house there, just a room over from his men and gagging you with his fingers so you don’t get caught

> not that he’ll care if they catch you anyways

> he has a nice big office- half of the reason he uses it is so he can have you on his lap as a cockwarmer while he reads or looks over inventory numbers

> the other half is so you can suck his dick under the desk while he talks to simon or dwight

> (simon is a raging pervert so he definitely knows, too)

> he loves fucking your face, watching you get all teary eyed and drooling all over yourself from taking his massive cock

> “oh look at the fuckin’ mess you’re making!”

> he’s generous though- he loves reciprocating oral

> and he loves overstimulating you too- whether that’s by edging you for hours or just making you cum again and again and again

> he loves taking you from behind, pushing your face into the mattress and gripping your hips so hard they bruise

> but he also loves when you ride him slow, gasping quietly as he watches you fall apart completely for him

#negan x g/n reader #negan x y/n #twd negan #negan smith #negan x you #negan x reader #the walking dead #twd dead city #cw sex #cw kink

59 notes · View notes

imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 10 months

Text

Timeless

Click here for my masterlist.

Click here to add yourself to my taglist.

Prompt - ‘Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this. So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless.’

Notes - The timeline is messed up but that’s ok! Also, nobody cares but omg I got tickets to the Eras Tour!!!

It was early when Bucky forced himself out of his bed, taking a moment to just sit up and massage his temples, desperately trying to stop the headache that seemed near constant at this point. He figured it was expected though, not enough time had passed since he had managed to escape HYDRA and most days he could still feel the Winter Soldier so clearly in his mind, fighting to obey commands and return to the handlers.

Bucky couldn’t let that happen though, he had spent too much time planning his escape, too much work trying to build something new after months of hiding. He couldn’t even remember exactly when he had formed his plan, only that he hadn’t been in the chair for a while, the handlers thought they had wiped away any remaining traces of Bucky and were only left with the Soldier.

So Bucky played along, he swallowed down the sickness he felt stinging at his throat and obeyed every command given to him until he was able to make his escape. From there he had been running ever since, knowing HYDRA would always be looking for their greatest weapon.

He had finally settled though, running from country to country until he came back to the States, finding his way back to New York.

Slowly his memory had started coming back to him, being out of the chair and on the run had meant more and more came back. Most of the time he couldn’t quite make them out, too jumbled up to connect but he liked to cling to them anyway, they always made him feel safe and he’d take them over the nightmares of his days as the Winter Soldier any day.

He went back to Brooklyn, let himself wander the streets and smiled as small snippets flashed through his mind. More often than not there was a boy, a skinny thing who was always ready for anything, Bucky couldn’t remember his name but he knew he loved the boy like he was his brother.

Then there was a girl. In the memories there was the prettiest girl Bucky had ever seen, he hoped he’d remember her more, he had too. Every time he managed to remember a memory with the girl in it he felt lighter than he had in years, a weight lifting off his shoulders whenever he pictured her smile.

The first thing Bucky had done once he had worked enough odd jobs to rent an apartment was force himself into a morning routine. The first few weeks he had just stayed in bed, alone with the memories of what he had done. He had known it couldn’t carry on that way, he had to do something. So he forced his body into the shower every morning, wiping away the sweat from the previous night’s nightmares before getting dressed and walking the streets of Brooklyn.

Bucky never had a real destination in mind when he left his apartment, preferring to just pick a direction and see if he could remember anything new that day. Today he turned left when he walked out and let himself get lost in the Brooklyn streets.

He let himself walk for a while, there were no new memories but Bucky didn’t mind. It was nice to be able to just walk around by himself for as long as he wanted, no expectations, no commands, no handlers waiting for him and no chair to take away the new memories he did have that he desperately gripped onto.

He didn’t know just how long he had been walking for when he came across a small building in the middle of a row of stores. It was easy to miss, the dark wood was only half the length of the bricked building next to it. He didn’t know what it was about the store that caught his eyes but something was telling him to keep walking towards it.

When he finally came to a stop outside of it he could see through the large window letting the morning light in. Bucky looked through it at relics that looked as old as he was. He stayed where he was for a long moment, just looking before something in him told him to go in and he let himself listen to it.

When he walked into the shop a small bell chimed above his head and he smiled at the old man who was busy behind the counter before he let the door fall shut behind him and he walked around, his fingers trailing along the surfaces.

He made his way to a room in the back where his eyes caught a box, the lid propped open with a handwritten sign taped to it, telling him it was photographs in there worth twenty-five cent each. He didn’t know why a smile pulled at his lips or why he reached down to pull them out but his smile widened when he saw a picture of a woman.

The picture was black and white and a bride beamed up at him, a veil on her head and a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Something about the photograph made Bucky’s heart clench, something familiar that he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

“Come on, doll!” Bucky grinned as he circled around you so he was walking backwards and in front of you. “Say you’ll do it!”

Bucky froze, looking down at the picture as a memory played out before him, he could see it so clearly. It was the girl, the girl he couldn’t remember but so desperately wanted to know, he wanted to know who she was more than anything.

“We can’t!” You laughed, grabbing his hand and making him walk properly after he bumped into a man, shouting an apology over your shoulder as he cursed. “Bucky, don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m not, c’mon you know you want to.” Bucky moved in front of you again, crouching down so he was eye level with you, pouting and giving you his best puppy dog eyes causing you to laugh again, pushing his shoulder and leaving his trailing after you. “Hey, I'm serious about this.”

“We can’t get married, Bucky!” You laughed again causing Bucky to groan loudly, drawing stares from others around you but neither of you noticed, both too focused on each other.

“Of course we can. C’mon Y/N/N, say you’ll marry me, pretty please.” Your laughter was like music to Bucky’s ears even if it was in response to his pleas to marry him. “We’ll go right down to the court house now, pick you up a pretty dress and be married by the end of the day.”

“How about this, you come back to me and then I’ll marry you.” You countered, the smile falling from your face slightly with the reminder of what was coming.

“You promise?” Bucky smiled, pausing in the middle of the street, taking your chin between his finger and thumb to lift your head to his.

“I promise.” You told him, smiling as he leaned down to kiss you.

He married you? He knew he had to have cared about you, he knew he felt something for you but he had married you? He hoped his past self knew how lucky he was, he’d have done anything now to know you.

“I came back.” Bucky whispered into your ear as you practically flung yourself at him, sobbing into his chest as he held you close, one arm around your waist, the other cupping the back of your head.

“You came back.” You cried against him and Bucky felt his heart break, the whole time he’d be gone the only thing he could think about was how he hadn’t made it back to you.

“I promised, didn’t I?” He murmured into your hair and he felt you nod, tightening his grip on you before pulling away far enough to cup your cheek. “I seem to remember you had a promise of your own to keep.”

He watched as you smiled and it was all he needed, suddenly he was holding back his own tears and dragging you back to him, his lips meeting you in a desperate kiss. He truly hadn’t known if he was ever going to make his way back to you but you hadn’t doubted it, you and Bucky always seemed to find your way back to each other.

“So what d’ya say, Y/N, will you marry me?” He asked after he pulled back, watching as your lips pulled into a beaming smile even as tears still poured down your cheeks, you nodding wildly at him as you huffed out a laugh.

“Of course I’ll marry you.” You told him and Bucky couldn’t help but grin right back at you before leaning in for another kiss.

Bucky felt a smile pull at his lips in the present time, smiling down at the picture of the bride as another memory came back to him.

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of you as the doors opened and you came into view. At his side he heard Steve let out a gasp and he couldn’t help but agree, you were breathtaking. He couldn’t believe how lucky he had been to find you, to have you walking down the aisle to him, wanting to marry him.

God, he loved you so much.

He couldn’t remember much of the actual wedding, too busy taking in every little detail of you. Hearing the words ‘I do’ fall from your lips nearly sent him to his knees.

Bucky didn’t realise he was crying until the woman’s face became blurred through his tears and he took a deep breath, steading himself as he leafed through the photographs. He paused again when he saw one of a couple clinging to each other, the girl had her head buried in the guy's neck and he was holding her tight against him.

You were looking over Bucky with watery eyes. He felt his heart break as he messed with the tie of his uniform, looking at you through the mirror as you took a silent breath before you stood up. You brushed Bucky’s hands away and took over, tying the tie properly around his neck and smoothing it against his chest.

Once you were done Bucky took your hands in his and brought them up to his lips, placing soft kisses against your knuckles.

“Smile for me, doll.” Bucky pleaded, watching as you scrunched your eyes shut to stop the tears from slipping past them and shook your head. “C’mon Y/N/N, it’s my last night, let’s have a good time, yeah?”

“I don’t want you to go.” You told him shakily, opening your eyes and cursing yourself when one tear managed to slip down your cheek but Bucky was quick to cup your cheek, a gentle thumb brushing it away, careful not to smudge your makeup.

“I know but I’ll be back, I promise.” He told you and watched as you shook your head again, trying to pull away from him but Bucky refused to let you go.

“You can’t promise that, Buck.” You told him, bottom lip wobbling as you desperately tried not to cry.

“Yeah I can, I’ve got my girl waiting right here for me, waiting to marry me the second I get back, you can bet I’m coming back to her.” Bucky smiled down at you and you couldn’t help the choked laugh that escaped you.

Whilst you were out it was easy to forget Bucky would be leaving. With his arms around you, him leaning in to kiss you in the middle of the room without a care in the world, it felt like any other day.

Until it came time for Bucky to leave. You stayed back as you watched him say goodbye to Steve, wrapping the smaller man in a hug before pulling away to salute him. Your eyes filled with tears for what felt like the millionth time today, at this point you were so tired of crying but knew it wouldn’t get any better with Bucky leaving.

You watched as he jogged over to you, his smile faded but still in place knowing he had to be brave for you.

The two of you walked hand in hand, neither of you saying anything as you walked down the street. Bucky was shipping out in the early hours and the two of you agreed it would be better to say your goodbyes tonight.

“I’m really gonna miss you baby.” Bucky told you as you came to a stop.

“You promise you’ll come back?” You asked shakily, looking up at him.

Bucky nodded before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips, holding you close to him and trying his hardest to convey how much he loved you into one kiss.

“I promise you, Y/N/N, I’ll be back before you know it and I’m gonna write you letters every single night whilst I’m gone.” Bucky swore, leaning his forehead against yours and watching as you were unable to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks.

“I love you so much, Bucky.” You choked out, throwing your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck.

Bucky felt his strength leaving him and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him in the middle of the crowded street, not paying any mind to anyone else but you.

“I love you too, Y/N, so, so much.” Bucky told you, murmuring the words into your hair.

Bucky didn’t know how long the two of you stood there but eventually you had to pull away. Bucky cupped your cheeks and gently wiped your tears away before pulling you in for one last kiss that left you both breathless.

“I’m gonna miss you so much.” You told him and Bucky smiled brightly at you.

“I’m gonna miss you like crazy, doll. I’ll be home as soon as I can.” Bucky told you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before hailing a cab for you.

“I love you.” You told him as you pulled him in for a final hug, squeezing him just a bit tighter than usual as you tried to convince yourself he’d be alright.

“I love you too, baby, so much.” Bucky said as he hugged you back, not letting any tears fall until your cab disappeared from view.

The tears leaked from Bucky’s eyes as he remembered you, remembered having to leave you behind, remembered having to be strong for you even when he didn’t know if he would make it back to you. He remembered the moment he truly thought he wouldn’t make it back to you. Finally coming home and having you in his arms felt as close to heaven as Bucky would ever come.

He wiped at his eyes before flicking through the next few pictures.

He had to stop and smile when another photograph caught his eye and he could so clearly see you and him where the teenage couple stood in a driveway, their hands entwined with a note on the back that said school dance, 1958.

“Come on you two, just a few more!” Bucky’s mom insisted and the two of you couldn’t help but groan since she’d said the same thing a half hour ago.

“Mom, we gotta go, we’re gonna be late.” Bucky told her but she just shook her head and waved him off.

“Come on, none of that now. You’ll want to remember this night, let me take a few more.” She said and Bucky just looked at you apologetically causing you to laugh.

“A few more won’t hurt.” You said, causing her to smile and usher you and Bucky together.

Bucky grinned as he held a hand out to you and you couldn’t help but return it and you threaded your fingers through his and turned towards the camera.

“You look beautiful.” Bucky whispered before turning towards his mom too, looking at you out of the corner of his eyes just as the flash went off to see your smile brighten at his words.

“Now you two have a lovely night, Bucky make sure she gets home safe.” His mom reminded him and Bucky had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as everyone knew he walked you home first no matter how much you insisted he didn’t need to.

Bucky remembered that night, the two of you had spent hours dancing together until the dance was over. When he walked you home he remembered thinking he loved you for the first time, stopping outside your house to kiss you and nearly saying those words but not being brave enough.

He missed you. He missed you so much. He’d had a whole life with you, he’d married his girl and he’d left her alone.

He’d left you alone.

You’d lived all these years thinking that he had died. He had died after promising you he’d be home. He’d forgotten who you were, forgotten how loved he had been and how much love he had for you.

He wiped his tears and moved away from the photographs, not sure he could stand to look through them anymore even if they had unlocked a flood of memories.

He remembered being away in the war, reading your letters was the only thing that got him through most of his days and when he wrote his back to you he tried to hide as much of the bad as he could, over exaggerating in his stories hoping that they’d make you smile.

He really hoped they made you smile.

He was meant to have a lifetime with you. He was meant to love you until you were both old and grey. He was meant to have kids with you and be there for you every day of your lives.

The two of you should have had so much longer together. Just when he thought he couldn’t hate HYDRA any more he was shown the life he could have had, torn away from him like everything else had been.

Bucky left the old antique shop with tears in his eyes and a bundle of photographs tied together with brown string.

Days passed and Bucky wasn’t great with the newest technology, give him any weapon and he’d know how to use it in minutes, give him a computer and he was clueless. Eventually though he managed to figure it out and he was walking up the steps of an apartment complex.

His hand shook as he raised it, knocking on the door and waiting anxiously. When the door finally opened he was left breathless.

You couldn’t help but stare, mouth falling open as you looked at the person at your door.

“There’s my girl.” Bucky said shakily, watching as your mouth opened and closed as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“Bucky?” You finally managed to choke out, the man you had spent all these years missing was at your front door, not looking a day older than the last time you’d seen him.

“Promised I’d come back.” He told you, tears stinging his eyes as he looked at you. You were just as beautiful as he remembered, eyes still as bright.

He couldn’t help but regret that you were older, not that you were older but that he hadn’t been there to grow old with you.

“How are you here?” You asked, still in complete disbelief and not entirely sure this was real.

“It’s a long story.” He told you honestly, not even sure where he’d start. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“You look the same as you did all those years ago.” You said, letting out a huff of disbelief. “But at least you kept your promise.”

You gestured for him to come in and it wasn’t long before the two of you were sitting on the sofa. Bucky pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, still amazed he had managed to find you.

His hand brushed over yours and he paused when he felt something, looking down he couldn’t help but frown as he saw a wedding ring around your finger. He was happy you had found somebody, truly he was, but it should’ve been him.

“It’s yours.” You told him and he looked at you questioningly. “It’s your ring.”

“You kept wearing it? After all these years?” Bucky asked in disbelief and it was your turn to smile.

“I never took it off once. It’s impossible to move on from you, Bucky, not that I ever tried.” You chuckled softly and he stared at you in amazement. “I promised to love you to the end of my days, I keep my promises too.”

“I love you so much, Y/N/N.” Bucky whispered as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m so, so sorry, doll. I should’ve been here, all these years we should have been making so many memories together.”

“It’s alright.” You murmured, threading your hand with his. “It was a good life, I kept you alive. You were with me with everything I did.”

“I’ve missed you like crazy.” Bucky told you and you laughed, nodding against him.

“You’ve got no idea.” You said, still completely in shock that he was here with you again. “What happened, Bucky?”

Bucky took a deep breath, by the end of his story the pair of you had tear stained cheeks and cuddled closer together, neither able to let the other go after finally having each other back after so long.

“I’m sorry it took so long to find you.” Bucky said as he wiped the tears from your cheeks gently and you smiled, leaning into his touch.

“We always find our way back to each other eventually.” You told him, remembering all those years of growing up and arguing, the fights and the make ups.

No matter what happened between you and Bucky you would always find each other, you were made for each other, forced back together, no matter how much time had passed.

You had spent a lifetime missing Bucky Barnes, a lifetime keeping his memory alive. For years the only things you had to remember him was a cardboard box you kept in your room, photographs of the two of you together, first days of school, first school dances, a picture somebody took as he spun you around, pictures taken of you kissing and dancing. You had the letters you had saved and treasured from his time in the war, words of love and promises that had carried you through the years without him.

“We really were made for each other, huh?” Bucky said with a grin and you couldn’t help but beam back at him, nodding along. “Always supposed to find each other no matter what.”

“I’m glad you found me.” You whispered and Bucky let himself lean in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, feeling the weight that always seemed to rest so heavily on his shoulders melt away for the first time since he came back to himself.

“Not leaving you again, I promise.” Bucky murmured as he pulled away and shifted to pull you against him, content to hold you close and let himself enjoy the feeling of being home for the first time in a very long time.

Bucky Barnes Taglist (Click the link in my bio to add yourself!) -

@book-fic-reader, @dirtytissuebox, @countryday, @hankgreenspelicanstrapon, @buckystrash, @anastas2904, @cuupiid, @rottenstyx, @mads-weasley, @asherhunterx, @nomajdetective, @filmsbyblair, @halepack2011, @ajordan2020, @lonelygodsmuse, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29, @chickensrule, @classyunknownlover, @fanf1ctionwrit1n, @hayden429, @frickin-bats, @averyhotchner, @kodiakwhiskey, @chaoticevilbakugo, @sia2raw, @cleardetectivechaos, @onyourgoddamnleft, @divanca2006, @silverose365, @siriuslyfearless, @mystic-writings, @alwaysclassyeagle, @ordinarylokix, @carmellasworld, @jasontoddthezombie, @instabull, @buckysnumberonegirl,

@father-violet, @rosesinmars, @lizamango, @randomwriter1021, @kaitieskidmore1, @aylauwuuniverse, @hydeonysus, @fangirl-and-her-fantasies, @mrslizzyolsen, @kosmic-klouds, @caysophia, @inas-thing, @standarizedpumpkins, @ukai-hoe, @avengersbabe13, @cwritesforfun, @paintlavillered, @captainamericasdaughter15, @myguiltypleasures21,

@luluwinchester-blog, @polyglot-noodle, @bubsonnobx, @eddiefreakingmunson86, @eddiefrickenmunson, @fairydxll, @valluvsu, @slytherinambitious, @parkerxdunbar, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @chiaraxtargaryen, @psychicbouquetgladiator, @evvy96, @pedritoswife, @navs-bhat, @nashja, @alexxavicry, @jessicalee97, @myeyesandheartadjust, @happycupcakeenthusiast, @pretty-npeach, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @definitelykyles, @handsupforamiracle, @hoplessromantic17, @kitten-xoxxo, @audrie-bryant, @lunalovegood156, @taygrls, @anjelicajoyce, @thunder-ki, @ct-0113, @libraryofsweetpotatoes, @beepboopbeetroot, @canty0us33, @missabsey

Thank you so much for reading!💜

168 notes · View notes

gh0st-author · 2 months

Text

mastermind.

Pairing: William James Moriarty x Reader

Summary: What you needed was a chance— an opening. A cause to draw him out, to approach him. But that would be easier said than achieved. Impossible even.

Tags: fluff, a little bit suggestive but nothing much, Liam is a softie

A/N: so i was listening to mastermind by taylor swift and i just realized how much it fits liam, so this brainrot you see here was born. also this is set in america somewhere in those 2.5 years after the billy incident but before they return to london. my thought process was that liam and sherlock were doing some undercover work at this ball. additionally i decided to have Liam keep his eye here man's been through enough...

The moment was like something straight out of a fairy tale. An instant that you can't quite place; a dream that would unravel and slip from your grasp and glide through your fingers if you only tried to look too close at it. Gentle candlelight tracing abstract patterns over the entire hall, making the entire scene seem magical. Delicate music from numerous hidden instruments filling the air with yearning, so beautiful it could make your heart ache. The muffled sounds of secret whispers and the rustling of numerous exotic fabrics joining the cacophony of sounds, not to overpower but to add to the overall mystique and intricacy of the night. And him. Him— this radiant and golden being, akin to an angel, luring you in, stealing your coherence.

Your eyes were on him as soon as he'd entered the room, followed by another dark-haired man who you couldn't make yourself glance at for the life of you. Because doing that would mean taking your eyes off him. Elegant frame gliding through the mass of people, pale golden strands swaying with the movement, awakening an urge in you to trace your hands through them, to find out if they were as soft as they looked.

This feeling washing over you, filling your every cell, clouding your mind more than the glass of expensive wine in your hand, was new. Completely and irrevocably unfamiliar. And that terrified you tremendously. How could one person have such an effect on you, before you'd even exchanged so much as courteous greeting?

He must've felt your attention on him— how could he not when you were burning holes in the back of his head— and his head turned towards your hiding place, the little nook you slotted yourself in as to avoid unnecessary prattle of the ladies around you.

Oh...

You felt as if all of the air had been leached out of the room in that one moment, then instantaneously rushed back in leaving you light-headed. Bewitching. That was the only word adequate enough to describe his face, his eyes. His features were timeless, elegant, touched by the innocence of youth but also impossibly wise at the same time. And when his sharp scarlet gaze connected with your own, what little thoughts you had— however trifle they might've been— evaporated into mist and smoke. Those were eyes that never missed anything, that appeared to gaze directly through your flesh and blood and straight into your soul, seeing every detail, every dirty little secret. Yes, this man was absolutely breathtaking; utterly captivating.

You averted your gaze, feeling exposed and not wanting to stare too hard. This night had just become infinitely more interesting to you. But, despite all of the stars aligning and conspiring to place you in the same room with such a magnetic and compelling presence, you had no conceivable way of conversing with him. In truth, you were only here in the first place because of your cousin, and this ball was nothing more than just a chore to you who was supposed to be her chaperone. You had no connections and no reason to seek him out, no matter how much your heart yearned for it. Even now, you could see his outline floating in the corner of your vision, surrounded by numerous important individuals.

You sighed, and deciding against hiding for now, you smoothed out your gown and abandoned your little nook. It was due time to try to mingle with the dense crowd.

Like his shadow, a phantom, you traced his steps around the room, trying to find an opportune moment to etch just a little bit closer. Wherever you went you glimpsed him from the corner of your eye, always near, but always just out of reach. As soon as one group had finished with him, he was already onto the next. He was everywhere— anywhere you looked— making your desperation rise. It was a known fact that our psyche worked in contradictory ways; the more one tried not to gaze at something or think of something, the more the mind made them a prisoner of exactly those thoughts. The echo of his silhouette followed you around, always just a tad bit too far away.

Positively exhausted by the constant ongoing battle between your mind and your heart, you retracted back to the faraway corner of the room, choosing instead to behold the art and numerous artifacts nestled there. What you needed was a chance— an opening. A cause to draw him out, to approach him. But that would be easier said than achieved. Impossible even.

Deep in thought, one painting caught your attention. It was a magnificent piece, truly, but you were not able to decipher what exactly about it ensnared you so. It appeared no more extravagant than any other painting in the room, yet you couldn't look away from it. It felt as if it was pulling you in, calling to you.

"Captivating work, is it not?"

The sudden voice to your right made you startle, and you were forcefully ripped away from your mussings. You almost didn’t need to look to know who the person who'd just spoken was. After all, your body was tingling in his mere presence, every cell coming alive simultaneously, vibrating with hope now that he was the one who sought you out first. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, you pivoted to regard the stranger. "I'm sorry?"

"That painting." He flashed you a gentle smile, his unusual-colored eyes regarding you with interest as he approached to stand beside you. "It's a true masterpiece. The artist uses patterns and geometry to create a most aesthetically pleasing piece, painting illusions to trick the viewer into thinking they can actually step into a two-dimensional space. It's rather extraordinary."

His voice was soft and melodic, slightly amused. Your eyes caught at the slight upturning of the corners of his lips as he spoke, unable to look away. It was either that or get lost in his knowing gaze. "Are you an artist?"

"A mathematician, more accurately." You heard a wistful note in his voice. "I used to teach at a university in England, but sadly, I don't anymore." He gave you another smile, this one a little dimmer than his last one. "Some circumstances got in the way. But that is neither here nor there. I take it you are someone's chaperone tonight. If I had to guess, the young lady's over there."

You followed his gaze and saw your cousin a little further away, engaged in a conversation with some friends. How did he know that? "I am. Thank you for your insightful deduction Mr.–"

"Liam. Call me Liam."

"Liam..." You whispered his name like a prayer on your lips, tasting how it felt on your tongue. "No title? Is it short for something?"

"No... just Liam. Classes and titles mean nothing to me." You couldn't quite read the emotion in his voice as he said that, layers of something more— perhaps dejection— intertwined beneath a calm reply. "And what shall I call you, Miss–"

"Y/N" You held out your hand to him, and Liam, never breaking his eye contact with you, raised it gently to his lips, leaving just a breath of a kiss there.

"Y/N..." He too sounded like he was sounding out your name, familiarising himself with it as if he planned to continue saying it many times more. "The pleasure is mine."

That one touch, that one kiss against your gloved hand, was enough to light a fuse within you. You felt flushed all over, both too hot and wrecked with chills at the same time. You needed to know more about this man. He was like a Venus fly trap, a mystery you wanted to solve, an equation you wanted to assess. "Did you come here alone tonight?"

"I am accompanying my good friend on some business tonight. He is the black-haired individual currently giving us the burning stare." And sure enough, when you followed his gaze, you spied the gentleman in question, the one who followed Liam when he first entered the room, giving you both suspicious glances. Looking at him now, no longer blinded by the brilliance of the mysterious mathematician, he was a handsome individual, tall and all angular features, but that was overshadowed by the arrogant eyebrow he raised at you as if contemplating to terminate your further involvement with his friend.

"Have I done something to upset him?" You haven't even met him, yet he seemed to not be pleased with you.

"No, he's just paranoid. Unnecessarily." Liam narrowed his gaze at him, and they appeared to be exchanging a wordless string of arguments between them, after which the man shrugged his shoulders and flashed you both a sheepish smile, putting his hands in his pockets and turning away to talk to some other nearby attendant. Liam's attention was back on you now. "Excuse his behaviour, he has a lot on his mind tonight."

You, too, had a lot on your mind tonight— mainly, how to slip away somewhere where you could be alone with him, away from the eyes of everyone so you could continue your conversation uninterrupted. Suddenly, a thought permeated the fog in your brain. It wiggled through and lodged itself right in the forefront. An opportunity to get him alone... This was it. If you could use this to your advantage, you could make an unfortunate situation into something worth remembering. "Don't worry. I don't mind—"

You cut your sentence off, bumping into him purposely. Your glass almost slid out of your hand, deep burgundy splashing over his coat. He caught you, a true gentleman, as you widened your eyes and flew into a flurry of apologies, as you quickly set down your— now empty— glass. "Oh my God, I am so sorry! I don't know what happened, I must've been more inebriated than I thought. I'm so sorry!"

Liam was a picture-perfect opposite to your hysteria of movement. He calmly grabbed his coat and slid it off. The dark burgundy stain had bleed through the outer layer onto his white shirt beneath, and he let out a chuckle as he inspected his coat and the stain on his chest for the damage. "Don't worry, it was an accident. Such things happen." He sighed at the coat. "Although, I suppose I can't show myself in front of our business partner tonight like this."

"Please let me do something!" You pleaded, doing your best to show him how remorseful you were. It wasn't all for show, you did feel kind of awful for staining his clothes. "I have a handkerchief, I can help you. Please, follow me." If you fail to plan, you plan to fail— or so they said. Life was about making the most out of unexpected situations, and you were not about to waste this opportunity that had been given to you. You grabbed his arm and tugged him along with you as you slinked by the walls and made your way out of the hall.

You entered the first room you saw— a study, it appeared— and pulled him with you to sit down on the couch. Quickly taking out the handkerchief, you grabbed the coat from his hand and started dabbing the stain. Luckily, his coat was dark, so it wouldn't be too noticeable in the candlelight. All the while, Liam said nothing and just observed you with an unreadable gaze.

"I expected you to be more cross with me," you said after some time, finally daring to glance in his direction. You hoped he wasn't, otherwise, this plan was all for nothing.

That gave him a pause, and he blinked at you, as if you said something unexpected. "I am afraid I don't understand. This was just an accident that could happen to anyone. There is no reason for me to be cross. Were you, perhaps, afraid I would be?" He smiled at your frown, and you averted your gaze back to the task at hand. A contradictory enigma. This coat was of very expensive material, yet he made no complaints. Chose kindness, instead of anger. You were definitely right to get this mysterious man alone, even now you felt the inescapable draw of his presence.

"It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both," you murmured absentmindedly while still gently dabbing away on the stain, doing your utmost to try to get rid of it.

"Oh, you are familiar with Machiavelli's works?" He leaned back, placing his arm on the armrest of the couch and resting his jaw on the back of his hand.

"I've read some here and there. Why? Are you an enjoyer of his books?" You raised the coat up to the light and observed it. This had to do for now until he could get it cleaned.

"I too have read them here and there." His gaze was sharper now, both cunning and amused. It made you shiver— but not unpleasantly, you realized with a start. "I find his takes on the authority and aristocracy most fascinating."

Laying the coat aside, you scooted closer to him, the couch making you all the more aware of your proximity, the dim lights making it all seem more intimate. This close you could even smell a faint tinge of his cologne, mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol you spilled. This turned out to be a perfect excuse to touch him, to feel him. Everything went precisely by design.

Dizzy from the heat of his body, now so close to you, you slowly started to dab at the stain on his shirt. "You truly are an enigma, Mr. Liam, are you aware?" He only continued to observe you with his slight smile, the rising of his eyebrow the only indication that he was listening. Taking that as an invitation, you prattled on. "You seem like someone of noble birth, yet you appear to disprove of the class system and disregard any titles. You seem awfully intelligent, and yet I have not seen your name in any field of research, not even math." You took this opportunity to smooth out his collar, fingers gently grazing the skin of his collarbone. "And you approached me, and were able to accurately ascertain things about me I gave you no indication of." You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly glanced down again, resuming your attempts at trying to clean up the wine.

You felt him let out a little contemplative hum, as he leaned closer to you. "You are an enigma as well, Miss Y/N. You have followed my every move since I appeared here, yet refused to approach me the entire night. You still don't seem to trust my words, but you have not yet inquired into anything I've said. It is almost as if you enjoy this little game." He raised his hand, and you watched with bated breath as he caught a strand of your hair and twirled it around his finger. "Tell me, is it fun trying to uncover my secrets?"

Hands falling into your lap, the stain and handkerchief long forgotten, you felt light‐headed again. Like a snake dancing to the magic flute, both your body and your mind were charmed, following his every move. This little plan of yours might be working better than you anticipated. If you actually survived until the end of this game, of course, because if he kept looking at you like that, giving you his undivided scrutiny, you doubt you could last. "You followed me here without question as well." You managed to whisper out. "Did you perhaps have some ulterior motives with me too, Mr. Liam?"

He gave a little tug at the lock of hair wrapped around his digit. "I wonder..." His sharp eyes were now unfocused and thoughtful as if he himself couldn't really understand his actions. "Whatever compelled me to do that?"

You glanced at his eyes, then his lips, wondering if this was such a smart idea now. Maybe you shouldn't even be here, shouldn't entertain your wicked thoughts. Your draw to him was too powerful, dangerous even. It felt like too much and too little at the same time as if you could ignite and burn and blaze down to smithereens with a single word from him, drown with a single touch.

At that moment, the door slammed open with a loud creak, cutting off your train of thought. Both of you reflexively jerked back from your compromising position, the moment gone and magic ruined. The room now felt infinitely colder without his proximity, the couch impossibly wide. Your startled gaze fell on the culprit who had barged in so suddenly, finally able to breathe without Liam's cologne tampering with your thoughts. It was him, the man Liam introduced as his friend earlier. He glanced sharply at you both, eyes staying on you for a heartbeat longer than necessary, studying you. Contemplating. You could see the same mysterious intellect you saw in Liam in him, the same razor-sharp mind, the same murky and vague past. His eyes widened imperceptibly as if taken aback by your inspection, then filled with something akin to grudging understanding. Then he swiveled towards Liam and pointed behind him. "Liam we have to go. Work's calling."

A sigh, no louder than a disturbance of air left him, and he rose, giving you a remorseful look. "Sorry, dear. Seems like our time is up. Hopefully, I will see you again one day, under more fortunate circumstances." He quickly donned his coat, adjusting it to best cover up the stain, then with a hurried gait followed his friend out the door.

"I am sure you will." You whispered, as you watched him leave, him only turning back once to shoot you a conspiratorial grin. As if saying to keep what happened here a secret.

Checkmate, you thought. You will be seeing him again, you were sure of that. There was just something about him that sang to you, some kind of kindred warm flame, like fire burning in a hearth. But in his calm gaze, you also caught a glimpse of something else beneath, another fire, blazing hot, ardent, and dangerous. All of it made you even more curious, made you crave him more. You had to arrange a meeting with him again.

You couldn't lose.

Truly, nothing moved faster than time. It was outstanding, mind-boggling, how it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. And now, two years later, you found yourself with the hard wood of the door of digging harshly into your back as you leaned back to let Liam deepen the kiss. The soft rustling of clothes and your quick breathing were the only sounds permeating the room of Liam's and Sherlock's shared apartment in Brooklyn. Barely any light illuminated your two silhouettes, only the moonlight and a rare street light outside of the window providing any illumination.

Gasping for breath, his lips still chasing yours, you attempted to put some distance between you. "Wait, what about Sh—"

"Do not worry." He whispered, still eager to continue. "Sherlock is already on his way to London as we speak. So is Billy. No one will bother us."

"That means we have to leave for London soon, too." You gripped his shirt in your hand, raising on the tips of your toes to whisper in his ear. "How convenient that we are free to spend our last night here as we wish." Pulling back, you looked back at him, face full of mirth, lips splitting into a cheeky grin.

Cupping the back of your neck, he gave you one last kiss before leaning away. "Call me an opportunist."

Gently, his hand slid down to your waist as he moved you from the door and laid you achingly slowly on the bed. Your own hands moved from their position on his chest to intertwine in his hair. Soft and exactly as silky as you thought it would be two years ago. On that magical night. A night so much like this. His gaze was soft, and melancholy, as if he too was remembering that time. Most days, you were scarcely able to wrap your head around the fact that so much time has passed and that you've won the affections of such an ethereal being. That you yourself were able to set the wind to your sails that first night, to not just play the role of a pawn, but to be the king instead.

He regarded you in silence for quite some time, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your waist, your hips. His face was unreadable, haunted. "I would ask what you're thinking about, but I'm terrified to know."

He let out a quiet chuckle and rested his forehead against yours. "Oftentimes, I think night is purer than day; it is better for thinking, loving, and dreaming. Maybe I was always meant to dwell in the night, to plot. At night everything is more intense, more true."

"Enough of your philosophy." You grumbled. "If you wish to scheme and think you can do that with Sherlock." Using your hands in his hair, pulled his face closer to yours, your lips barely brushing. "I think, currently, your mouth could be much better occupied."

He gave you a deep kiss, making you forget how to breathe, then bit your lower lip teasingly. "I never scheme. You must be confusing me for someone else" So saying, he chuckled. "But I must admit, I enjoy seeing you so flustered for me."

Well, two could play that game. When his lips traced a path from your kiss-swollen ones downwards to your neck to shower it with countless marks you'll surely have to cover up tomorrow, you decided to entertain yourself as well. "What if I told you that none of this was accidental?" It was nothing more but a breathless whisper, a silky melody in the darkness of the room. His ministrations didn't stop, but you continued, eager to fluster him at least once, even if it meant sharing your biggest secret— a secret that you had sworn you would take to your grave. "Were you aware that the first night I saw you I decided that nothing was going to prevent me from getting closer to you? You were like a blazing flame and me but a simple moth drawn to your brilliance. So I conspired to get you alone." It was getting harder and harder to form coherent thoughts when his kisses felt so hot, almost burning and branding your skin wherever they landed, but you persevered, tightening your hold on his hair and enjoying his slight shudder. "I... purposely spilled wine on you that night." You swallowed against a sudden lump in your throat. "I knew I had to lay down the groundwork if I wanted to catch your attention, knew I had to set it all up like dominoes." A sudden nibble on the junction of your neck and shoulder made you gasp.

"I was aware."

You were so thoroughly distracted by the feeling of his lips on the skin of your neck that it took a few seconds for his words to register, and when they did your whole body froze. "Wait... You knew?!"

You felt his lips pull into a smirk against your skin and he slowly pulled away, his eyes dancing with barely concealed mirth. "Darling, I knew the entire time."

You were rendered speechless. Shock. Disbelief. The feeling of the world freezing in its tracks. That's all you felt as you stared wide-eyed at the man above you. Your body felt weightless and stone-heavy at the same time. What does he mean: "He knew the entire time?" Every encounter that you two had raced through your mind as you tried to remember if he ever showed any indication of being aware of your little game. There were none. "You're lying," you stuttered out through your suddenly dry throat.

His smirk was downright devious now. "On the contrary, dear. Not only was I aware of your schemes— I was the one who orchestrated them. From the very start, this has been a chain reaction of countermoves on both sides."

"But then-" Every world felt like sandpaper as you tried to make sense of the situation.

"Steering Sherly in your direction under the guise of talking to some aristocrats the first time I saw you, just so I could be in your field of vision the entire night. Purposely asking around about that painting I knew nothing about to start a conversation with you, then letting you bump into me so you could have an excuse to talk with me in private. Accidental meetings. All actions of a desperate man, who had been completely and utterly enamored ever since he first laid eyes on you." Each sentence was followed up with a kiss— to your neck, to your cheek, to the corner of your lips. One of his hands slowly made its way upwards towards your face from its place around your waist. Still in shock, all you could do was lean into his hand when he gently cupped your jaw. "But it was incredibly enjoyable, this little game of ours. I never believed that there would be someone who would go to such lengths for my affections." His gaze softened and he traced your cheek with his thumb. "My sweet, vicious mastermind."

You felt your chest squeeze under the crushing wave of pure love that washed over you. This man— this brilliant, extraordinary, incredible, magnificent, breathtaking man— he was yours. And he had been from the beginning. Or, more accurately, you'd been his. For you weren't the one who had been setting everything up since your first encounter– you were the one being strung all along. Happy tears prickled at the corners of your vision and you couldn't help but beam up at him. "I guess this is checkmate. It's my loss."

With a matching smile of his own, the hand on your cheek then slowly moved down to your chin, and he pulled you into another kiss. You closed your eyes and melted into it. It was painfully sweet— maybe the sweetest kiss you two have ever shared.

Looks like you were no match for the former Lord of Crime after all.

#ynm #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #mtp william #fanfic #fluff #sherlock holmes #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty #mtp x reader

42 notes · View notes

thursdayinspace · 30 days

Text

Recommending The X-Files to someone who hasn't seen it can be a challenge, because there are so many reasons to watch it. Yeah, it's about monsters and aliens and conspiracies and two very attractive people. But I think at its core, it stays relevant because it conveys so many timeless messages:

Be yourself. To me, that is a central lesson to take away from the show. There is Mulder: smart, well-educated, and with the chance to pursue a great and successful career in the FBI. But what drives him is his search for the truth, a truth that nobody else believes in. He sits in a basement office, people call him 'Spooky,' nobody takes him seriously. He even refers to himself as "the FBI's most unwanted." He's making a joke, but he's not joking. He's well aware of his reputation and still chooses his own path, the one he believes in. From the beginning, he is unapologetically himself. And that is what makes us love him.

The same is true for Scully. She doesn't believe what Mulder believes. She's a scientist and she remains one. And she doesn't have to stay in that basement with Mulder. She knows his reputation and knows it will become hers as well if she stays. Staying won't gain her any respect among her peers and it won't advance her career, but it's what she wants to do. She may not agree with Mulder's theories and challenges them with science, but she believes in the work. She is who she is, and that proves to be the best thing for their success as well as their partnership.

They both doubt themselves, repeatedly. But they always come back to who they are. And that self-doubt is so very relatable, which, paradoxically, is exactly what makes watching them so encouraging: it's impossible to go through life never doubting yourself, but if you are true to yourself, you might be amazed at what you can achieve.

Hang in there. There are obstacles in their way that seem really fucking impossible to overcome. The fight they're fighting seems like it's already lost so, so many times. They are only two people, up against a corrupt system and conspiracies of truly giant magnitude. They wouldn't even need an excuse to give up; it would be only too understandable if they did. But they don't.

And they don't win every fight. They lose a lot of the time, and they face great personal losses on top of that. But there is always something left that keeps them going. They look for it, and they find it. And it's worth it.

Everyone knows the feeling that there is simply no point to anything anymore. But Mulder and Scully say that there is. Mulder and Scully want you to get out of bed in the morning, because there's always something that's worth the effort, even if it takes you a while to see it. Listen to them! It may not always be apparent in the moment, but that doesn't mean it isn't there.

"Nobody gets there alone" is such a popular theme throughout the show -- especially Mulder has a tendency to go off on his own in the beginning, and always realises pretty quickly that he needs Scully with him if he wants to solve their case. Whether they need each other to argue out their conflicting theories or whether they just need someone to be there and listen and offer support, they can't do it without each other.

They help each other through everything. They are a shoulder to cry on for each other, and they are there for each other to share the good things. Just one example that kicks me in the feelings every time is the cancer arc, where it's not just Scully who needs Mulder for support, it is also Mulder who needs Scully. Because her diagnosis pulls the rug right out from under his feet.

Going through hell is easier with someone else by your side, and they prove that time and time again. The message is clear: don't feel like you have to shoulder everything alone. Trust that someone else wants to be there for you. And sometimes, meet up at night to teach them how to play baseball. Being there for each other also means having fun together.

Love is strength. That seems like an obvious one, but it's so complex. They love each other, yes. Deeply. But what do we, as an audience, take away from that? The most important point seems to me that love comes in many forms, and that loving someone and letting yourself be loved gives you a reason to hold on even when you think you can't. At the beginning of season 2 when they're separated, they still have each other's backs. They need things fixed not only for themselves, but for each other.

Mulder and Scully do not admit one of the ways in which they love each other for a long time. And yet they express their deep affection for each other in so many other ways, whether it's simply listening, or going completey insane with worry when one of them is in trouble.

It doesn't always matter what we call 'love.' What's important is that we let people in. That we let them close. Don't hold people at arm's length because you don't know what you might miss. Do small and simple things for each other. Hug someone. Encourage them to believe in themselves. Take them seriously. Let them know that you care about them. It means the world.

Trust someone. A recurring phrase in the show is "trust no one," but what it always comes down to is that the opposite is what helps us stay afloat. We need each other to survive. We all feel alone and like nobody understands what we're going through. We have thoughts that seem too weird or too personal to share, even though we desperately want to talk about them.

Mulder's theories are wild to the extreme. And the story about his sister and his trauma connected to that is such a private thing. But he tells Scully, and that doesn't make it go away, but he's no longer alone with it. They cry in front of each other. They can let go around each other. That's why it hits so hard when Scully thinks Mulder betrayed her in 'Wetwired' -- that is one of her deepest fears, and shows how important it is for them to know they're on the same side and have each other's backs.

The world is too much for any of us to take on alone, but baring your soul to someone is scary. However, whatever emotional baggage we're carrying and no matter how heavy it is, sometimes it gets a little lighter, even for just a moment, when somebody tells us we're not alone.

In the end what it all comes down to is that if we believe in ourselves and in each other, we can do it. What we can take away from it is hope, encouragement to never stop asking the big questions, and the belief that if we overcome our differences and love each other for who we are, we can achieve anything. That is what the show is all about. And that is why it never gets old.

#the x files #txf #x files #mulder and scully #I have so many feelings about this show #and it always feels so inadequate to say 'because it's good' when you want to convince someone to watch it #it really is timeless #the reasons to love it are endless #I mean. I could go on.#and on #and on and on #but this is the essence of it for me

21 notes · View notes

ashleyh713fanfics · 1 month

Text

Dazai X Odasaku!Sister CH13

Chapter 13: "Celebrating Life Is Stupid”

Summary: After reuniting and growing closer, Dazai and Oda’s sister truly realize the value of each other and the sad bandaged boy falls deeper into the dangerous fascination and infatuation that is Odasaku’s little sister.

Warnings: pm!sixteen year old Dazai, pm! sixteen year old chuuya, ginger is very angry, Suicide mentions, guns, manipulation on both sides, Odasaku death mentions, Dazai being a Simp, Dazai being the demon prodigy but also baby at the same time.

(This is chapter thirteen of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. It carries on from the three part intro I posted a couple days ago. I'll link it below to fully understand the story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Three Part Intro (Broken up because the first ch is so long)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A03 Version Here:

Word count: 6k total

—-

Tapping his feet in already brewing annoyance, Chuuya pushed his phone closer to his ear as each ear grating ring pissed him off by the second. And honestly, by the third one he debated throwing the entire object into the wall next to him in a fit of frustration.

He knew that little mackerel was doing this on purpose, sending his calls to voicemail over and over again. That guy never had anything notable going on and he knew the boss was gonna have his ass if he didn’t get in contact with that little shit.

But fortunately, or rather unfortunately for him, the line picked up on the fifth ring only to hear that same happy go lucky, irritating sing-song tone he alway seemed to use.

He hated that sound more than anything, mostly because the ginger he was about to be made fun of. “Oh Chuuuuuya, what an impatient little dog you are, blowing up my phone like this. Can't get enough of me I see.”

Gritting his teeth to hold his outburst, Chuuya simply scoffed. “Shut up, it's your own damn fault for not picking up. I know you are doing it on purpose, you shitty little mackerel.”

The voice on the other hands only hummed though, obviously unbothered. “So rude, Chuuuya, assuming such things. I am actually very busy right now. Which is why your interruption is way less pleasant than usual. And that’s saying something, considering your presence is never pleasant.”

Chuuya knew better though. “Bullshit, you’re never busy. You’re probably just fucking around somewhere.”

Just then, he heard a fake ass gasp on the side of the phone only for Dazai to answer straightforwardly. “If you call “fucking around” me currently pinning down a beautiful woman then I suppose you're right about that. Isn’t that right, love?”

Almost immediately, the ginger felt bile work its way into his throat, shoving the feeling down before shouting back roughly. “Ah, you’re so fucking disgusting! I don’t wanna know about that shit.”

Oh my god, why did he have to bring up that kind of stuff?! The last thing he wanted to do was picture shitty stupid Dazai like that, especially with some nonamed whore or brain dead manipulated bitch.

That poor soul that was with him right now, the one Dazai just called love, he pitied her, whoever she was.

Forcing the idea from his mind, Chuuya then shook his head before adding. “Listen, the boss gave us another mission in a couple days and I wanna make sure you don’t try to ditch again or else I’m gonna kill you for real, got that?!”

He knew the kid’s pattern after all, Chuuya knew how flighty and unreliable that stupid mackerel really was and he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to get dragged into that again. The first time he flaked was bad enough.

But as expected, Dazai didn’t sound serious, he didn’t even sound remotely interested in his threats as the boy simply waved the question away. “Don’t worry slug, I’ll be there. Can’t have my dog getting lonely, now can I?”

At that name, Chuuya felt his anger spike, the boy unable to stop his outburst. What was his damn problem?! “You fuckin…I’m not a dog!!’

Dazai’s voice only came back confused though, his voice just as annoying, cheerful and mocking as usual. “How strange, all I can hear is woof woof woof so I’m gonna hang up now! See ya, Chibi.”

And just like that, the line turned dead, causing the ginger’s eye to twitch before tightening his hold on his phone before giving into the impulse and throwing the object against the wall next to him.

Watching the phone shatter to prices before his eyes, Chuuya then shook his head before grumbling out his frustrations to absolutely no one.

“I’m gonna kill him..”

——-

Closing his flip phone absentmindedly, Dazai simply smiled to himself before placing the object back into his pants pocket only to hear the voice underneath him speak out hopefully. “Was that Chuuya?”

The boy only shook his head though, pushing his foot further into the speakers chest in order to shove his enemy further into the ground roughly. “Don’t sound so happy about it. That slug shouldn’t gain such a reaction.”

His opponent only put her hands out in defense though, turning her head curiously to the side with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

Dazai expected that kind of response though, his eyes moving up in order to glance around the familiar port mafia owned warehouse that they had spent the last hour or so before she spoke again.

And this time, it was far more pushy than before. “Sooo, what did he say?”

Already feeling his lips twist into a bitter smirk, Dazai’s foot then pushed deeper into her chest, exulting double the amount of force in order for her to stop speaking. “Those aren’t the kinds of things you should be worried about, Asa-chan, considering the position you're in right now..”

Which was something that Asagao seemed to be missing in her tiny little brain considering he was currently pinning her down to the dirty and dusty warehouse floor by his foot. He clearly had the upper hand here so there was no reason for her to speak so casually.

That, and the fact that she was asking about Chuuya of all people in this sort of dangerous position caused Dazai’s sick and twisted port mafia heart to darken with malice. He was the one she was supposed to be focusing on, not that glorified hat rack.

She was at the mercy of the demon prodigy and she was acting like they were talking about the weather. He wanted her to regret ever asking about that hat rack in the first place, to apologize between his fingers for not taking his presence seriously and speaking of another so foolishly.

Then to prove his point, the boy reached into his pocket before taking out his gun in order to point the barrel straight at her head with silent warning.

It was a move that would make any one shutter and cower immediately. In fact, it was something he used a million times before to intimate each and everyone of his enemies.

But he had already learned that Asagao didn’t play by the rules of his other opponents.

Turning her head in confusion, the girl simply looked at the foot that was constricting her breathing before returning to the demon with a gentle smile of unbothered idiocy. “Oh, I’m not worried.”

And for a moment, Dazai paused, playing her game. “And why’s that, love?”

He wanted to see what she’d say, how she would justify her calm and collected behavior even though she was staring down the barrel of his gun. Yes, Asagao had outwardly said that she wasn’t afraid of dying by his hand but she wasn’t even trying to get out of it.

And he knew she could, he knew that the hellhound could fight back him if she so chose, so the fact that she was allowing Dazai to pin her down like this was interesting to say the least.

This girl, she was seconds from death and still her eyes held not one bit of urgency.

A moment later, Asagao spoke, her voice full of nostalgic memory as she reached forward in order to pull the barrel closer to her chest. “Because this is how we met, remember?”

Almost immediately, Dazai’s mind seemed to snap back to their first encounter almost an entire year ago. Huh, she was right. They had been in this position before, hadn’t they?

Back when the boy was drowning in his grief, back when he found an intruder in his friend's old place and threatened them in the same exact manner.

If only he knew how utterly life changing that little meeting had been, what kind of storm erupted from the moment he tore that hoodie off her head and looked into her Odasaku eyes.

And it was the same now, the boy looking down at her glasses free expression in order to catalog and trace the iris silently to himself. He seemed to do that a lot lately, getting lost in the emptiness as it swallowed him whole each and every time.

He was grateful for it also, knowing that the dullness of her eyes was way more welcoming then the darkness of his own soul, that by having her here he had switched the method of his demise.

Yes, drowning in Asagao was much more tolerant than drowning in his grief.

A sweeter way to die indeed, a more pleasant experience than what he ever deserved, and yet Dazai couldn’t stop himself from staring even so.

So much so, Dazai felt his lips twist upwards in familiar memory before his finger carefully cocked the gun with a dark chuckle. “Oops. You’re right, how silly of me. Let’s continue where we left off then, hmm?”

Then without a second thought, the executive pulled the trigger as a loud shot echoed through the warehouse. And most people would’ve been horrified by such a reaction, they would have regretted aiming at something he just so clearly said that he admired.

But you see, Dazai didn’t underestimate his girlfriend, not one bit.

Casually putting his hand down on his side, the mafioso then smirked to himself before turning around only to find his enemy a couple feet away, her hands on her hips. “Damn, you really tried to shoot me. I’m surprised and a little impressed, demon prodigy.”

Dazai only shrugged his shoulders though, unbothered. “Well, you told me to look at you as a threat, did you not, Asa-chan?”

It was conversation that was very prevalent in his mind, even today. Sure, the boy should’ve taken their fights easy, he should’ve sparred in a way that made sure Oda’s sister was safe but that wasn’t his style, and neither was hers.

No, Dazai treated her like a real threat, just like she deserved, he trusted that she was smart enough to anticipate his moves and counteract, like just right now.

And the fact that she had done just that also proved his theory that she could’ve gotten out his hold at any time.

What a sneaky shady little hellhound she was. He was onto her big time.

Then as if to prove his internal analysis, he watched Asagao’s face twist into that same twisted, psychotic and giddy smile that enticed him time and time again before watching her fingers twitch in unkept adrenaline just by that simple phrase.

And Dazai would never understand the power his acknowledgment had on her. That just by giving her his entire strength she was already antsy to match it. The hellhound training that had been embedded into her since she was a child, it coated and clouded every other single thought in her brain.

Pushing her fingers up to the ponytail that held her unruly crimson mane in place, Asagao then chuckled darkly before practically ripping the restraint in order to let her hair free.

And with that simple move, she had also ripped down the chains that held the monstrous creature beneath the surface, unafraid of the response it would give. “Oh Samu, you know just how to rile a girl up, don’t you? You’re right about that one, I am a threat. Now allow me to live up to your potential of me and show you how..”

And Dazai loved it, he loved that crazed beast-like look more than anything, his stance grounding itself immediately only to find that his enemy had disappeared in front of his eyes. Ah, she was using her time stopping ability. How cute.

Turning the safety off his gun, the boy then narrowed his eyes before sensing a change of wind to the right in order to let off three more shots just as Asagao reappeared millimeters from his face.

She seemed to register the bullets just in time, her body rolling to the ground in order to just miss the dangerous attacks as Dazai smirked in admiration.

And let’s be honest, should he have been pointing that gun at her like this? No. Should he have been directing his shots with the intent to kill. Also no. It was insanely risky and if she was even second too late then he would have the blood of another Oda on his hands.

Which was something the boy wrestled with internally but it seemed like his port mafia blood craved the opposite, to see just what amazing and enticing ways she could get out each deadly situation he threw at her.

And that desire, that allure was stronger than his fear to keep her locked away forever. No, she had a power, and it was too enticing to ignore, especially for the twisted mafioso who was looking for something entertaining.

He was then taken out of his thoughts as a rough hand wrapped around the barrel of his gun in order to pull it forward without fear as Asagao smirked in victory.

It didn’t matter that the chamber was loaded, it didn’t matter that his fingers were on the trigger and any slight movement could cause the end of her life.

Asa’s grip remained firm, her leg barreling into his side in order for Dazai's muscles to jump and his finger to loosen from the trigger just as she pulled it into her line of sight.

And once the cool metal was in her hands, Dazai wondered what she’d do with it, his senses on high alert only to watch the girl simply empty out the chamber of bullets with one hand, the quiet clinking of metal catching his attention immediately.

How dare she, she had the shot and didn’t take it.

Unsatisfied by her actions, the mafioso then darkened before the boy predicted her next strike in order to grab onto her fist roughly and twist it unnaturally behind her back with a huff.

No, she needed to know that she wasn’t as sly as she thought. That he was onto her little game. “Since you’re all riled up, does that mean you’ll stop holding back now too?”

He wondered how she would react to that, if she would lie about his little discovery or own up to her hypocrisy wholeheartedly? Either could be possible, considering she hadn’t disclosed to him outwardly about her watered down battles.

Asagao told him herself back in Bar Lupin that she was a prodigy just like him, that she could murder like a high level assassin and kill with the quickest of hands.

But if that was true then why hadn’t she tried that with him yet? Why hadn’t Asa displayed intent to kill with Dazai if she was so strongly in favor for believable fights?

It didn’t make sense, and he wanted to know why.

And for a moment, she felt her body still underneath his rough touch, as if she really had to think about his words. He seemed to have broken into something personal for her.

Interesting, she wasn’t denying it. But hold on, was she saying that he couldn’t handle her full hellhound side? That he was some kind of fragile little boy who wouldn't stand a chance? Did she forget that he was in the mafia, the youngest executive in the history of the organization?

She didn’t need to worry about such a thing, besides if that was the result Dazai knew he wouldn’t have opposed. So instead, he coaxed her some more. “Come on, Asa-channn. You’re no fair. I wanna die, remember?”

But even still, Asagao didn’t seem convinced, her body unmoving and eyes closing before he felt her physically shiver underneath his touch, almost like she was reliving some kind of unpleasant memory.

Something scared her, enough to cause such a visceral reaction.

Then Dazai watched as Asagao’s head slumped down into herself, her voice strained and bitter, a tone that the boy had never heard from her before. “I don’t kill anymore, I don’t want to be that person again..

Those words, they felt big, like a massive weight had just fallen on both of their shoulders. But why? What did they mean? What kind of person was she when she killed? What was she like when she truly allowed the hellhound side to fully overtake her? He wanted to ask her.

Yet before he could process that sentence, Asa used his apprehension in order to kick his shin and shift her body around, grabbing onto his forearm before flipping the skinny thin boy backwards over her shoulder.

Feeling his body slam against the ground, the girl then moved on top of him, reversing their previous position with a wave of her finger. “Besides that would be a pretty painful way to go, don’t you think?.”

His entire head began to spin instantly, both from the hit and from her change in attitude. Now she was happy, playful and just as carefree as before. There was no sign of that bitter suffocation that he had heard at all.

Which meant only one thing, she was covering it up.

But to be completely honest, every single thought he had seemed to drown out completely as he looked up at the towering force above him.

Her long messy hair was blanketed over her, shielding the two of them in a cave of her own design as she stared down with that same alluring dead eyed stare that he had admired before.

And not only that, the dim, dingy warehouse lights behind her seemed to melt around her head, bathing her in an ethereal light of some kind, something that made the boy’s heart flip unexpectedly and without warning.

God, she looked like an angel like this, so perfect, so heavenly.

Yet whether she resembled an angel of life or death was to be decided. Perhaps this was a sign from some unknown force, telling him that Oda Asagao would either be the beginning or the end of him.

Perhaps she would be the last thing he would see before leaving this world peacefully or perhaps she would carry him to the afterlife and into the pits of hell with her siren song and her dangerous words. He didn’t know.

He was playing with fire after all, selfish by staying by her side even though he shouldn’t have been allowed to. He was clouding her white light, binding her wings and making her fall to meet his level just because he couldn’t bear to be lonely.

How cruel he truly was, to not have the heart to set her free. It was too late now, the demon and the fallen angel, their fates had been sealed whether he liked it or not.

Reaching his fingers up, Dazai then ghosted across a strand of her falling hair before turning his head in curiosity. “Touché. Well, since you know so much let me ask you, love. What do you think is the most beautiful way to die?”

He wanted to know her answer, more than anyone before. Because he knew that she would answer honestly. She wouldn’t brush it off or disregard the meaning like everyone else.

Dying was a touchy subject it seemed, because although the boy craved it more than anything, it seemed whenever he brought up his little sad goal, no one ever gave him the answer he was looking for.

He didn’t want to be comforted or to hear that there was no beautiful way of death. No, he wanted perspective, real and true perspective. To see what constituted beauty for others, what that meant in terms of what he was searching for.

Because as much as he wished for peace and beauty in death, the boy didn’t know exactly what that meant. How strange it always was, searching for something so desperately even though he didn’t know the true extent of the meaning.

Waiting with bated breath, Dazai allowed her to silently think before the girl put a finger with a quiet and pensive hum. ““Hmmm, that’s a tough one..”

Then she closed her eyes before her lips curved into a confident beam of light. “I guess I would have to say a lovers suicide!”

And that light was blinding, mixing in with the makeshift halo behind her in order for Dazai to turn his head in confusion.He had never thought about that before. Hell, he didn’t even know the term. How curious. “Lovers suicide?”

Nodding to herself, Asa then lifted her pinky finger out in explanation. “Yeah, like a double suicide, you know? Because even if you deemed that the world was awful, you would still have to admit that there was at least one person that made the experience worth it, enough to want to follow them all the way to the afterlife.”

Then to prove her point, the girl simply reached down before interlocked Dazai’s pinky finger with her own, a small smile of her lips as the boy gazed at the sight in awestruck wonder.

Of course she would say something like that. Only Asagao could answer a question about death so hopefully and tragically captivating. Her desire to see the good, to twist the narrative into a positive one, they were extremely prevalent here.

But for once, Dazai didn’t mind it, he liked the idea of having someone to die with. The thought had never crossed his mind before, to have someone to treasure you enough to want to follow you until the very end. It sounded nice. Almost beautiful even, just like he wanted.

Testing out the words on his tongue, the boy whispered. “A double suicide..”

Nodding once, Asa pulled their interlocked pinkies towards her heart in reply. “Yeah! It’s romantically tragic in its own right, don’t you think?”

It was, it really was. In fact, it was so tragically perfect that Dazai knew he would’ve never had thought of such a thing himself. Simply because he wouldn't have allowed himself to think of something so nice and positive.

But now that it was spoken into the world, it couldn’t be forgotten. “I’ve never thought about that before. Do you really think someone would want to do that with me?”

Could it be, could someone really dedicate themselves to him to that extent, enough to give up everything, to walk hand and hand with him to the end of the line? No, that was impossible, no one wanted him, especially in that way.

Asa only shrugged her shoulders though. “You never know! Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

Then all at once, clarity seemed to flash in his eyes. “You’re right..”

That’s it, he just had to ask every woman he saw, then maybe one day he’d get lucky.

Reaching forward, Dazai then shifted his hands in order to grasp onto her wrist before meeting her eyes with a hopeful smile. “Hey Asa-chan! Do you wanna..”

Yet Asagao seemed to already know where he was going with his question, her hand immediately unlatching from his in order to playfully shove her palm into his face and push him back onto the ground. “Sorry Osu, I would do a lot of things for you but killing myself won’t bring me closer to my brother. The only death I’ll accept is one by your hand.”

Damn it, she had said that before, hadn’t she? Ah well, worth a shot.

Throwing his arms out with a child-ish whine, Dazai then pouted his lips at the rejection. “Boo, you give me such a good idea and then turn me down? That’s not very nice. I’m sad now.”

Asagao only laughed though, her tiny giggles taking up the space of his question before pointing a finger out in an offer of her own. “Well, we can’t have that. Oh, I know. How about we stop by the shop on the way home and I’ll buy you some canned crab to make up for it?”

And although it wasn’t what he wanted, her offer enticed him just as much, the boy’s eyes sparkling with pure joy in order to nod his head excitedly.

“Deal!”

——

Stepping through the door of Odasaku’s apartment, Asagao happily turned on the light, the plastic bag full of canned crab clinking together as she moved, only for Dazai to quickly take off his black mafia jacket and throw it on the ground.

And in the past couple weeks of them reuniting, the girl noticed Osamu's childish traits more and more, an action that made her strangely happy. Sure, she still wasn’t sure if he was being completely authentic but she couldn't deny that he at least looked more free when he did them.

In fact, their relationship had grown exponentially since the night Asa cared for him and took off his bandages. She was worried that by pushing that much she would’ve scared him away but it seemed to be the opposite, and for that she was grateful.

Now he came over whenever he pleased, without excuse, and without worry. She would make sure he ate and they would watch TV together and sometimes they would go out to spar like tonight. If anything, the two had definitely moved past the term strangers and into more of a friendship based relationship.

They understood each other, most of the time without words, and that was refreshing to both of them, considering no one else could do such an impossible thing. They were alike and yet so different depending on the circumstance. It was almost fascinating to think about.

She had never had that before, someone that understood so much with so little.

And where most people would call it invasive, Asagao saw his nosey and deductive attitude as a marvel. Although, she wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, considering she stepped out of boundaries before.

But those days seemed long gone as the girl turned back to Osamu only to pause when she noticed discolored tan stains on the bandages around his arms. Well, that was weird.

Reaching her hand up, Asagao then lightly touched his forearm, careful to keep her touch on the gauze as she inspected the source. “What is this?”

Although all she received was a boy-ish smile, filled with fake innocence. “Coffee?”

Almost immediately, something about his sentence seemed off, causing Asa to cock an eye with suspicion. “I didn’t even know you drank coffee..”

Then all at once, the boy nodded his head erratically, his lips moving at a mile a minute in order to give an over the top laugh. “Oh, yeah! I love it, I can’t get enough of it. That’s why I spilled some on me this morning. Oops, I’m so clumsy, aren’t I? Didn’t even notice it till now.”

Pouting his lips all at once, Dazai then whined to himself dramatically. “But now that you mention it, it feels really gross, like super uncomfortable. Asa-chan, you gotta save me! I don't know how I can go on like this..!”

His story was strange, considering she had never heard him speak about liking coffee before, nor did he ever choose that as his drink of choice. Usually it was just whiskey and any other alcohol he could get his hands on.

And what Asagao didn’t know was that she was completely right. In fact, Dazai had never touched the stuff before this morning. He didn’t love coffee, but the reason he had bathed himself in it was purposeful.

You see, ever since the first night Asagao changed his bandages, Dazai couldn’t get enough. He wanted that feeling back, the one that made him feel so safe and cared for. He couldn’t get it out of his head, and trust me, he had tried.

Which led him to taking matters into his own hands, aka finding ways to dirty his bandages so that he would have an excuse to give Asagao the next time he saw her.

At first it started with blood, making sure to purposely hurt his enemies in the most messy way possible in order to soil the white gauze, but then it moved to other things such as alcohol, and rolling around in dirt or dunking himself in nearby rivers.

And today’s plan involved coffee. He had gotten the idea when he saw one of his subordinates walk around the corner with one. So naturally, he ordered the guy to give it up in order to pour the lukewarm liquid on his arms with delightful glee.

Anything to get Asa to touch him like that again, to feel so important and special again. Was it underhanded? Possibly, but the boy knew he couldn’t just come out and ask for such an embarrassing thing.

Staying silent for a moment, he then watched as Asagao seemed to turn his wrist, examining the sight before she let him go with a smile. “I’ll go get the bandages. Meet you on the couch.”

And just like that, he had won yet again, causing the boy to practically skip to the plush cushions of the sofa, unable to hide his delight in song as he watched her go into Oda’s bedroom to receive the first aid kit. “Yay! Asa-chan is gonna help me, she’s gonna help me, yeah! Asa-chan is the best, she’s the very best, yeah!”

Once she turned the corner though, Asagao couldn’t help but close her eyes, already sensing his deceptive demeanor. No one spilled things that clumsily, especially Dazai. Which meant that it was for a purpose.

But because his actions didn’t seem self destructive, the girl chose to ignore them. It’s not like she minded changing out his bandages time and time again. In fact, she loved doing it, it made her feel closer to him.

Returning to the sofa, Asagao then placed herself beside him before placing the gauze on the table only for Dazai to immediately loosen his port mafia tie from his neck with one hand. “Lean closer, darling.”

So she did, the girl pushed her head closer to him so that he could slip off her glasses before unraveling the tie as she averted her gaze from his in silent wait.

Back in the warehouse she may have been able to look at him without her blurry barriers but now that she wasn’t distracted by the fight everything seemed way harder. She still couldn’t look at him head on like this, no matter how much she tried.

Dazai didn’t seem to mind though, his fingers only focused on securing the black tie around her eyes and into a firm knot as Asagao felt herself let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

So much better.

Then once her view was obstructed, Dazai couldn’t help but soften at the sight of her instant compliance each and every time.

He loved how she never protested to such a strange request, how she never judged him for not being able to do this without the blindfold. No, she knew that he needed this to continue and Dazai was grateful for that.

Once it was done, Asagao moved her fingers towards the coffee stained coverings before slowly undoing each bind as Dazai felt his breath hitch inside his throat at the emotionally intimate contact.

And even though they had done this exchange about a dozen times, each one felt like the very first. It never got easier, it never made his ears stop ringing and his skin stop shivering.

But like some psychotic masochistic man, Dazai never pulled away, his eyes always entranced with her careful and respectful moves, each calculated, each with a certain intent.

He didn’t think he’d ever get sick of it, the way she cherished him.

Because as scary as it was, her gentle non judgemental fingers gave him a sense of calm along with the chaos. They terrified him and yet they always soothed him in every kind of mitch matched way.

They reached down to the deepest part of his soul, the one he didn’t know existed and embraced it in a warm and welcoming hug. And though the warmth was uncomfortable and foreign, he didn’t outright hate it anymore.

In fact it was quite the opposite, the boy wanted to run to it, he wanted to jump head first into that dangerous and vulnerable place and never return. He was addicted in every possible way, addicted to the idea of being held by her forever.

This was all her fault, how could she? Making him experience such a life changing feeling, he knew this would happen, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to resist this once he had it. How dare she, how dare she make him feel such weak and fragile emotions again.

How dare she coax him into thinking he deserved such a wonderful experience like this?

Those thoughts made him want to be protected by her hands forever, and with the low murmur of the TV in the background and the sickeningly sweet sound of Asagao’s hum to break through the noise, Osamu did feel exactly that.

Protected.

Slowly and without words, Asagao then hummed to herself in order to wrap the fresh clean bandages around his arms before securing the sight and pulling down her blindfold. “Do you feel better now?”

He simply nodded, still in a daze as Asagao smiled softly in return before replacing her glasses. “Good, I’m glad.”

A soft silence appeared then as the two kids allowed it to fill the room in order to turn their attention to the screen that was playing the latest anime episode of the show that they had been interested in lately.

This was nice, just being with him, relaxing without a care in the world. It made the foreign walls of her brother’s apartment feel more personal and belonging. Hopefully it was the same for Osamu also.

Just then, the sounds from the TV snapped her back to reality, watching as the the main character clapped excitedly as the room around her revealed her friends and family, all of them wishing her a happy birthday in joyish surprise. Aw, how cute. They planned all that out for her.

The sight couldn’t help make Asagao pause though, realizing something almost immediately. “Hey, Samu. Now that I think about it, when is your birthday? My brother never said in his letters and I’ve always been curious.”

Yet that’s when she watched Dazai pause, his voice rather dead and monotone, as if he was mentally waving the question away. “Oh, it was five months ago.”

Feeling her face fell in horror, Asa shook her head in denial. “W-Wait..I missed it..?”

No, that couldn’t be. That meant that during the time they were apart he celebrated his birthday by himself? How sad. No one even knew and he just let it pass like nothing, didn’t he?

Wait. That meant that Dazai was now sixteen, didn't it? She didn’t even realize.

It didn’t matter that he never mentioned it until now, how could possibly let such a thing pass so quietly without a word? Now she felt awful. “Oh no, I’m so sorry Samu! What kind of fake girlfriend am I? I didn’t even say happy birthday to you. What is wrong with me, I should've asked sooner, I should’ve..”

Yet the boy only cut her off though, his tone clearly dismissive. “Don’t worry about it. Celebrating life is stupid anyways.”

But how could she not worry about it? That was an impossible task, one that she knew she couldn't complete “B-But..I..”

Dazai only pushed a finger to her lips though, stopping any sense of self hatred she was about to utter before shaking his head.“I already said don’t worry your pretty little head, love. Now, stop that frown or else you’ll turn ugly like Chuuya.”

Then the boy simply smiled before flopping his head onto her lap comfortably in order to turn towards the TV and ignore the conversation completely. “Now, shush, pillows aren’t supposed to be noisy.”

And when the air turned silent once more, it was far more solemn as Asagao absently moved her hand to his hair with an unsatisfied sigh.

But for Dazai, the topic had already left his mind as the soothing feeling of her hand on his hair caused his eyes to grow heavier and heavier with bliss, immediately getting lost in the soft caresses and lulling touch.

How could he think about anything when her magic had already utterly captivated him?

Feeling Osamu’s head sink further into the safety of her lap, Asagao felt her eyes soften at the sleeping boy before thinking back to her previous question.

And though Dazai seemed to forget about it, she could not, his sad little words consuming her mind all at once.

Celebrating life is stupid anyways

Closing her eyes with dissatisfaction, Asagao then shook her head, not liking the implications of his words as she wished to change them even so.

And she would change them, she had to.

“But it’s not just any life, it’s your life. ”