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x-neurodivergent-reader · 1 year

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Sealing the Void (Dhawan!Master x Autistic!Reader) (Rewrite)

Summary: When you visit an alien planet, the Master wonders why you became so attached to a member of a species that is their equivalent of a cat. When you begrudgingly tell him the reason, he does something you would have never expected from him.

A/N: Hi – as I’ve said, I’m not quite coming back from my hiatus yet, but I’ve been wanting to rewrite this fic for a while now. Enjoy!

The reader here is gender-neutral. The fic can also be read as either romantic or platonic!

Content warnings: Description of animal death and feelings of grief, many other implied deaths (the Master and the reader character destroy a planet together for fun). Some angst with a fluffy ending (except for the alien planet, they’re screwed)

Tag list: @agent-barnes40

You had been acting somewhat strangely lately, the Master had noticed. While he didn’t typically care for humans’ emotions and struggles, it was clear that something had been bothering you, despite your insistence otherwise. Were it not for the fact that it didn’t seem to affect your ability to carry out his plans with him, he likely would have tried to pry it out more than he already has.

The current trip to carry out global destruction on a poor, unfortunate alien planet was relatively normal for you both, at first. You had managed to sweet-talk your way into the good graces of one of the most powerful people in that world – a queen, to be exact – creating the perfect start to set your plans into motion. Thanks to her making the mistake of trusting you, you and the Master were able to find all kinds of powerful weaponry and technology which, if you were sneaky enough, could easily be used to your advantage.

The Master was proud of how far your negotiating skills had come since you had joined him – all thanks to his guidance, of course – and he felt confident that he and his trusted companion would successfully raze this planet to the ground, destroying the vast majority of its population, as well as the foreseeable futures of anyone who had the misfortune of surviving…

…and then something terrible happened.

Something that the Master had no reason to predict. Something that threatened to take you out of the equation. Something which, if either of you weren’t careful enough, could easily jeopardise this entire scheme.

The queen had a cat. An alien cat, with antennae between its ears, huge dark eyes, and purple, striped fur. And it just so happened to become attached to you.

From the moment you first laid eyes on it, you couldn’t stop yourself from fawning over it at any given opportunity. Even before the “cat” noticed you in turn, the Master could practically feel your excitement radiating from you – he just knew that, even when you said nothing, your thoughts were screaming your immediate affection towards it. It took every molecule in his body for him to avoid rolling his eyes at how pathetic he found it, especially when the queen also noticed the “cat” and, more than happy with the opportunity to show it off, gave her permission for you to indulge its desire for attention.

Sometimes the Master had to wonder if you knew just how lucky you were to be his favourite human, because if he had to deal with anyone else talking to this thing in that disgusting baby voice, he most likely would have compressed them on the spot.

Thankfully, after days of seldom seeing you without the small, furry animal, the time finally came for you both to conduct his plans – and should fortune be on his side, you would forget all about the cat once it was over.

He often took the lead at this point in your adventures, since the idea of having to carefully command the right people, and make use of your newfound tools in exactly the right way, was often overwhelming for you. You instead preferred to aid him in his efforts from the side – and thankfully, when it was time, that damn cat that had been attached to you for nearly the entire trip was nowhere to be found. And the Master was more than happy to say as such while you helped him to prepare.

“Seriously,” he said, finally taking the chance to roll his eyes that he had been repressing for so long, “how much fuss do you think the stupid animal could possibly need? I’m shocked that incompetent excuse for a ruler even let it be with you for so long – I was half convinced you were going to steal it!”

Your face was carefully neutral as the Master nagged at you, having expected this lecture from the moment you met the little alien, considering his dislike of animals. The cool glow of the screen in front of you illuminated your face as you searched for any discrepancies in the doomsday weapons he was about to hijack. “He was soft.”

“If you need something soft to stim with, love, I could have just skinned it for you.” The Master remarked, flicking his hand nonchalantly. He thought that he saw you wince slightly out of the corner of his eye, but brushed it off as a trick of the light. “Would be much safer, anyway – it was probably “cuddling” you to see if you’d be a decent snack.”

You scoffed at the Master’s teasing, shaking your head slightly while you dragged your finger and thumb apart on the screen, zooming into the map to get a better look at any possible details that could disrupt your plans. The Master approached you and looked at the screen, quickly making sure to spot anything you might miss, before he continued the conversation you would have much preferred to leave behind.

“Besides, don’t you already have a cat? I can drop you off to see it any time you want, all you have to do is-”

“Everything looks to be in order.” You cut him off.

The Master grinned mischievously, his excitement at the news overwhelming any annoyance he felt at being interrupted so curtly, as well as the brief confusion at the crack in your tone. He spun as he approached the controls he needed to enforce the final step, a childish air about him when he started the preparations.

His hands flitted between the buttons for several seconds, before slowing, his finger hovering unsteadily over the one that would activate the weapons. The Master looked over to you with a spark of determination in his dark eyes, which was only reserved for such special occasions as this, as he held up the index and middle fingers on his free hand – the signal you both agreed on for you to get ready to run, and that you would need your ear defenders.

“Everything on this planet should be reduced to dust in about an hour.” His voice was shaky, somewhat husky, with anticipation, as you dug your small box out of your pocket, sticking the ear plugs into your ears. “You ready?”

From the moment you nodded to him, he didn’t hesitate to hit the button, and you both rushed out of the room. All you had to do now was get back to the TARDIS safely, and watch the consequences of your hard work unfold.

~*~

The Master threw the TARDIS doors open, ushering you in before slamming them behind him. You had sprinted straight to the console to steady yourself as you caught your breath, and the Master followed, darting around it and flipping the necessary switches to stir the ship into action. You briefly patted your ears, making sure your defenders were still in place, before grasping tightly onto the side of the console as the familiar rumbling and whining noise indicated that it was about to leave the planet.

Given the circumstances you both were faced with on the way back, the timing couldn’t have been better – after the queen found out who had caused her people’s incoming demise, she had sent some of her soldiers to try to either arrest or execute the two of you. You found it to be quite the inconvenience, as it drained a lot of the time you had left to escape, but at least the Master seemed to have fun with demonstrating how the TCE works to them.

Soon enough, the TARDIS’s vibrations settled, as the ship came to a stop. The Master’s excitement was palpable – you didn’t miss the shiver in his breath as he approached the doors and proudly swung them open again, showing the TARDIS to be floating in space at a safe distance from the planet, while still having a perfect view of the explosions.

That wonderfully wicked smile was still on his face as he turned to you, dramatically bowing while gesturing to the floor at the doors. “After you.”

His display caused you to return his smile, as you took the defenders out of your ears and walked up to the doors, moving to sit down with your legs dangling over the edge of the ship.

You said nothing as the Master settled next to you, still feeling breathless, your heart only just starting to calm down. The view of the stars, planets and galaxies as the TARDIS floated through space never truly got old for you. It was the perfect way to unwind from both the high-energy adventures, and any overstimulation that may result from them.

Despite how rude and animated the Master could be, you were grateful that he had the courtesy to know when it was best for you to just sit and stargaze for a while, until you were ready to spring back into action. His constant planning and searching for discrepancies in his next big schemes came to his own benefit in these situations, you noticed, as he would use them to occupy his erratic mind in the meantime.

But for now, you both sat in silence, and the thoughts that silence allowed you to process weren’t as kind to you as they normally were. Typically, as horrified as most other humans would be if they knew, you didn’t feel much remorse for the actions you took during your journeys with the Time Lord. Travelling with him was the most fun you’ve ever had in your life, and you wouldn’t trade it – destruction and all – for the world.

But this time, you started to remember the one good thing you had found on the planet in the distance, a feeling of guilt and even sorrow starting to invade your mind at what was about to be inflicted onto him…

“You interrupted me earlier.” The Master, ironically, interrupted those thoughts. You took a brief glance at his face, just enough to get an idea of what he was feeling. Neither his expression nor his tone of voice seemed to convey any anger, or even mild displeasure at you. He seemed completely neutral, as though he had merely asked about the weather.

Regardless, you knew that the way he expressed himself didn’t always match what he was really thinking, and you couldn’t help the feeling of self-consciousness that his statement raised, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe to create a small amount of distance between you. “Yeah. I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have done that.”

There was a moment where you got no reply, and a sinking feeling in your stomach made you start to dread exactly where the conversation may go. While things such as interrupting him when he spoke usually made him briefly annoyed at most, you started to think back to whether you had broken any of the other rules he had set when you first started travelling with him, for fear that you had done something to warrant him sending you home for the last time.

After the lingering emptiness you had dealt with for the past months, you didn’t feel like you could handle any more.

“You interrupted me when I brought up your cat, specifically. And you’ve been acting weird ever since that alien…” He waved his hand in a rotating motion a couple of times as he tried to think of the right term, only to give up. “…thing got attached to you. Weirder than you normally are around animals.” The Master once again spoke a little more casually than you expected, although it didn’t make you less on edge.

When you didn’t respond, he continued. “Did something happen to it?”

You swallowed, a small pang of the grief that you expected to have subsided by now hitting you like a train, as though each moment where you took the time to process what happened was sped up, now that you were put on the spot to talk about it aloud. The grief you have kept hidden from the Master since it started – restricting your sorrow, guilt, and tears to the time you spent at your home between your travels, trying to ignore how vacant it now felt – for fear of being viewed as just another weak human by him.

The grief you kept locked deep in your heart around him, so you wouldn’t have to risk losing him, too.

The Master didn’t do anything to comfort you when he saw your body language change at the question, since it wasn’t in his nature, but you could feel him waiting for you to be ready to answer. The silence of the void surrounding the TARDIS weighed heavily on that between you, until you took your fidget necklace out from under your shirt – where you always kept it on trips to avoid it getting caught on something, or making a noise while running away from the problems you and the Master caused – and it jingled quietly as your fingers fiddled with it half-heartedly.

“I won’t bore you with every detail, but… my cat got sick a while ago. She was being treated for it, and for a while, she genuinely seemed to be getting better. Not perfect, but she seemed like she was on the mend...”

You shuffled backwards into the TARDIS, making enough room in front of you to tuck your knees up to your chest. As silly as it was, it felt like you were protecting yourself from your vulnerability – protecting your heart from the judgement you just knew was coming soon.

“…but then, around two months ago, I woke up to find…” you tried to figure out how to word it, not wanting to go into the fairly morbid detail that had disturbed you the most at the time, “…her in a state that showed that she absolutely was not doing better. I managed to get an emergency appointment for her, only to be told that medicine was never really going to help her, and the problem would keep coming back after being treated.”

Your voice cracked as you spoke, the painful memories flooding back into your mind with more and more detail. “She would need surgeries for the rest of her life, which her insurance wouldn’t have covered. I didn’t have the heart – nor the money – to put her through that, so I… decided to let her go.”

It was only then that you forced yourself to face the Master, expecting to see his disappointment, anger – any indication that confiding in him was a mistake. He continued to look in your general direction for a moment, before silently turning his gaze back towards the planet that was about to die. Given that some of your sorrow had inadvertently slipped through several times after what happened, and he had noticed enough to point it out, you wondered if he was putting the pieces together, recognising that this was all connected.

The silence, along with finally talking about the events you had bottled up, made you immediately feel like you had to justify yourself. Anything to avoid bringing your fear of him leaving you behind to life.

“I’m sorry I got distracted by the cat – or whatever it was – back there. I decided not to get a new pet yet, because I knew I couldn’t just replace her and everything would be better, but… I’ve been around pets my whole life, and it’s felt so weird to not have one to look after and make a fuss of whenever I want anymore. It feels like something that’s become a natural instinct isn’t being fulfilled…”

You had to stop, you knew, as you felt your eyes start to well up. You rubbed at the inner corners of them with your thumb and index finger, trying to look like you were simply exhausted. “…I know it’s stupid for me to still feel like this after a few months, and I-I promise I’ll get over it soon-”

“Stand back.” The Master, ever the hypocrite, interrupted you as he rose to his feet. The determination in his voice notably lacked the eager anticipation it held back when he was about to destroy the world the TARDIS now overlooked – instead, it was more reminiscent of dark clouds curtaining the sky, in the build-up to a devastating storm.

It was almost on par with how he sounded while antagonising the Doctor.

Understandably, you didn’t argue, stumbling somewhat clumsily to your feet and stepping further into the TARDIS, before the Master forcefully closed the doors. Without a word, he went back to the console, and you quickly put your defenders back into your ears while he triggered the same controls that set it into motion again.

You just barely managed to grab onto one of the rails next to you before the ship started its journey, desperate to avoid being thrown around like a ragdoll as the Master, presumably, steered the TARDIS back to your home, ready to leave you behind for good after the moment of weakness you showed him.

You knew you shouldn’t have opened up.

As the ship settled once more, the Master stormed up to the doors, coolly narrowing his eyes at you as you turned, resigning yourself to the fact that he was about to make you leave, before he spoke. “Out of the way. You’re not going anywhere.”

His words, while still carrying the same stern tone, surprised you as they cut through your expectations. You looked at the doors, then back at him, unsure of what was about to happen. “What are you…?”

The Master sighed before gently pushing past you, tugging on one of the doorhandles and marching out of the TARDIS, leaving you to stare in bewilderment as he shut the door behind him, almost as quickly as he had opened it.

From the brief glimpse you got, you recognised the room he had entered as being part of the building you had just escaped – specifically, a lot closer to where the queen spent most of her time. Looking down at your watch, you noted that, assuming the Master hadn’t also travelled through time to get there, he only had around five minutes to get you both away from the planet again before its destruction.

You stood awkwardly in the middle of the TARDIS, keeping your hands occupied with your stim necklace, trying to focus your mind enough to avoid getting overwhelmed by your uncertainty. You knew how unpredictable the Master could be, but the lack of communication in this case was concerning. You couldn’t think of any reason why he would go back, especially with the sheer tenacity he displayed in doing so. The heavy silence from the ship he made you wait in didn’t help, either, as there was no indication that even she knew what he was doing.

He wouldn’t typically risk his life like this for anyone other than himself, so surely it couldn’t have anything to do with what you had told him… could it?

Before you could start to entertain the idea, one of the doors opened yet again, lacking the Master’s usual flourish as he opened it with just one hand. You were briefly worried that he had gotten hurt, until he fully entered the room, completely unharmed, aside from a few patches of ash on his skin and clothes.

And in his other arm, he was carrying the alien cat which had, soon to be formerly, belonged to the queen you had ruthlessly betrayed.

There were few times where the Master had a close enough call with death to make you this relieved to see him, but the fact that he really did do this for you made your heart feel like it was soaring, to the point that, were it not for your sensory issues, you would be tempted to tackle him in a hug.

The Master was quick to approach you to place the cat in your eager hands, before heading back to the controls to get the TARDIS away from the rapidly incoming destruction. He spoke quickly yet decisively as he steered the ship. “Your pet. Not mine. If it isn’t litter trained, I’m bringing it back to kick it out. Never ask me for anything ever again.”

“Deal!” You squealed joyfully, holding the cat like a baby as it settled in your arms to purr against your shoulder. You tugged the part of your shirt it was kneading at away from you when the TARDIS made you stumble, so the alien cat’s claws didn’t cut into you as you held it protectively.

You had no reason to believe that its claws were venomous – the Master likely would have stopped you from indulging its need for attention a lot sooner if they were – but you still didn’t want risk them breaking any skin in case, to his surprise, he turned out to be wrong.

When everything stilled, the Master turned away from the console, facing the massive grin on your face as you almost cradled the cat, already stroking its silky fur to calm yourself from the events of the day. He rolled his eyes at you, albeit without the same displeasure it held before – if anything, the act carried a degree of fondness.

“You happier now?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets and avoiding your gaze as you walked towards him. “I know it’s not going to replace your old cat, but at least it can help you through whatever pain you have left. Maybe. Who knows-”

The Master froze when you pressed your forehead against his shoulder – your alternative to a hug, that involved less physical contact. Your nose was pressed against the plum cloth of his coat as you thanked him, the vibration of the cat’s purring creating a rather pleasant feeling against your heart, while the Master awkwardly patted your arm.

“Yeah… it’s nothing…” He murmured, seemingly at a loss for words at your show of affection as he caressed your arm absentmindedly. His hand stopped suddenly, and you wondered if something was wrong, until… “…as long as it doesn’t start clawing at my clothes.”

“Oh, crap-” You withdrew yourself quickly, inspecting his clothes for a moment to make sure the cat hadn’t done exactly that. The cat’s ebony eyes had been closed, only to blearily open them and make a little “mrph” noise at the loss of the Master’s warmth.

“Don’t worry,” the Master smirked at your concern, winking at you to reassure you, “it’s safe for now.”

“Good… I mean, he likely won’t do it if I get some toys to keep him occupied,” you observed, continuing to pet the cat, “and, oh – as you said, I’ll need to get some litter stuff for him and make sure he’s trained, too. And some food of course, although I’ve no idea what this species eats… do you know?”

“Not a clue.” The Master shrugged nonchalantly, before turning back to the controls, pulling a screen towards him. “But we can go to a library to find some books on them. Shouldn’t take too long – the TARDIS can make a playroom or something to keep it occupied, until we get back.”

You perked up as the Master set the TARDIS up to do exactly that, while the creature slowed down its kneading on your shirt and closed its large eyes once more, starting to fall asleep in your arms. “You’ll really help me?”

“As I said, I don’t know much about this species – for all I know, my joke about it preparing to eat you might be true. I’d rather not have it come for me next.”

You scrunched up your nose and nudged him playfully, before hearing the TARDIS finish creating the new room. As you started to head towards it, careful not to go fast enough to wake the cat again, you stopped for a moment, turning back to the Master.

“Seriously, though. Thank you.” The Master turned away from the console to look you, raising an eyebrow as you spoke. “For both saving the cat, and listening to me. I think… talking about it helped me to process some of the thoughts I’ve still been having, about what happened. I feel a little better.”

The Master was silent in return, but the corners of his lips tugged upwards into a small smile – one of the rare, genuine ones that you’ve never seen him offer anyone else.

Offering a bright smile in return, you turned to leave before things got too much more vulnerable than you knew he would like, continuing to pet the alien cat’s violet fur as you started to look for the room the TARDIS made for it.

With your back turned to him, you missed how the Master’s warm smile grew, while he heard you whispering to the cat about what name you might choose for it.

#dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master imagine #dhawan!master x y/n #dhawan!master x you #doctor who master x reader #doctor who master imagine #doctor who master x you #the master x reader #dhawan!master imagines #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #doctor who imagines #doctor who x you #autistic!reader #neurodivergent!reader #My Imagines #I am carrying this in my mouth dropping it gently at your feet then scurrying back into my hibernation cave

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heart-sized · 1 year

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Could I please request young severus and fem reader, after sixth year severus spends his summer just depressed but meets reader, she’s your average muggle but she tries to befriend him, lighten up his mood and slowly he realizes that he might not be so alone after all. I hope that’s enough and thank you 🤍

now and forever — s. snape

★⺌◞ : young severus snape x fem! muggle reader

cw : none that i can think of

author's note : hi im kind of in a writer's block but somehow i loved your request sm and now i feel super guilty because this fic is actually shitty i might rewrite it later on so sorry in advance omg !!

masterlist // sev masterlist

severus sighed. he would never understand the whole point of holidays. at least in hogwarts, he had a purpose. in the muggles world? oh how he loathed living among muggles!

he didn't even know why he was sitting there in the cafe. oh probably because he wanted some moments of solitude to get his mind off his problems.

you stared at him from afar, watching him in curiosity. he intrigued you. he had one of those old soul aura and you couldn't help but want to know more about him, as less stalker-ish as possible.

“do you want me to help you?” you asked your older sister who worked as a part time waitress here. “eh, i can help you.”

lies. all you wanted was an opportunity to converse with that stranger.

“hi, what do you want to order?” you asked and severus jerked his head up, looking at you. order? he was actually embarrassed now. he had seen many people just sit there without order anything and he didn't brought extra money with him. of course, he couldn't expect a muggle like you to understand.

you looked at him and something flashed in his eyes. had he ... not brought money? you brightened a smile. “today's order on the house!”

he nodded, knowing that it was a rubbish. there was no such thing as a free drink and so when you came with his order, he looked almost suspiciously at you. “can you sit here for a second?”

you blinked your eyes, surprised. “of course. what's up?”

“i know what you did,” he accused, an angry blush on his cheeks as he glared at you, “i don't have money with me right now but i'll pay you soon.”

“wait!” you stopped him with a smile, “you don't have to pay me back with money. you can do something else instead.”

“and what is it?” he glanced at you with suspicion.

“go out on a date with me.”

severus stared at you in disbelief. surely you couldn't be serious. who in their right minds would want to go out with him? he sighed bitterly. not that he had any interest whatsoever in going out with them.

“i don't like jokes.”

your smile widened. “oh, i don't like jokes either. so are you ready or not?”

“fine.” begrudgingly, he followed you and you decided to go to the local park with him since it wasn't an actual date date (because you don't even know his name!!!!). but you couldn't deny that there was something special about him.

“i'm y/n,” you supplied the information even though he never asked. “what's yours?”

“severus,” he didn't say his full name. he was so used to being called snape by everybody, he didn't want you to call him that too. “my name is severus.”

“can i call you, sev?”

“no!”

“why?” you grinned, “but it's cute, sev!”

“you're a dunderhead, y/n,” he rolled his eyes. “it's not cute.”

“dunderhead, wow,” you shook his head, “your vocabulary is quite nice.”

“i can't say the same about you, y/n.” were your eyes hallucinating or was there an actual teasing glint in his eyes?

the two of you started hanging out everyday and you could see that severus had started caring about you too, albeit he'd never admit that out loud. it was the little details though. the hangouts that almost felt like dates now. actually valuing your opinions.

“my boarding school will open soon,” he informed you. you didn't know anything about hogwarts yet. severus knew he had to tell you that eventually, but he decided that it wasn't the right time.

“you'll go?” your gaze fluttered towards him. “you must miss me a lot, sev.”

“you're a dunderhead, y/n,” the fond smile on his face said anything but that. “so much dunderhead.”

“maybe,” you drawled out, resting your head against his chest softly, “i might be a dunderhead but at least i make you smile.”

“is making me smile that important for you?” severus couldn't understand. all his life, he had been loathed just for being who he was and there were you. you who didn't even mind being stupid just so that you could make him smile.

“i'm happy when you smile, sev. it makes me happy.”

“if that's the case, then y/n, you ... you make me happy.”

it took almost a minute for you to get his words. severus ... the same boy who had taken an eternity to tell you his name said that you make him happy? your eyes fluttered to his lips. no, no, bad y/n. don't think about that right now.

“i want you to promise me something, sev,” he nodded and you held his hand in yours, “we're gonna be in touch when you come home for your next holidays, won't we?”

“we'll,” he slipped a soft, innocent kiss on your cheek, “we'll be together. for the next summer and then for all the coming summers.”

“promise?”

“promise."

you smiled. the next summer he'll know your feelings. he'll know that you don't want to be just friends with him. he'll know that you'll never leave him alone. you'll continue to pester him for the rest of his life. now and forever.

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insomnia-productions · 3 years

Text

jonelias fake dating bullet fic

help

So Jon’s about a month into his new position as Head Archivist. it’s… fine. this is fine. gertrude was a mess, clearly, and elias is even more of a mess for allowing things to get this bad, but it’s fine. it’s fine. he’s fine.

yes, really, martin, stop asking,

And he’s - look, he’s always been a diligent person, always very committed to his work, so naturally he would spend every waking minute trying to organize the Archives, and naturally he would forget to sleep once or twice or five times a week, and honestly so what if he hasn’t actually touched his bed in nine days? It’s not like the lack of sleep is impeding his brain function. Much.

So it’s a bright and sunny morning in the Institute, and he’s up in one of the many libraries, looking up something about what may or may not have been a sentient kitchen sponge, and one of the researchers comes up to him looking oddly red and kind of stumbling over her words and oh lord no he’s being asked out

He quickly stutters through a rejection, but instead of just accepting it like a normal person (though, in fairness, what normal person would work at the Magnus Institute?), she asks him why not

like. what the fuck.

And Jon isn’t exactly the nicest or most tactful person, but even he isn’t about to look this woman in the eye and tell her that he just straight up does not like her. he’s not even sure he knows her name. there is a whole realm of possibility as to what reason he could give, like he’s too busy, or he isn’t looking to date anyone right now, but those would sound too much like excuses, wouldn’t they, rather than valid reasons to reject her.

He picks the worst option.

“I’m already seeing someone, actually.”

An eyebrow goes up. She looks him up and down. A second eyebrow goes up.

“Really? Who?”

Fuck. Now he has .2 seconds to make up a love story. He’s too tired for this, and he’s never been one for love stories. What makes for a believable romance? And in that panicked, sleep-deprived instant, his eyes fall on a portrait of Jonah Magnus nestled between two shelves, and somehow that prompts a spectacularly terrible response.

“Uh. Elias.”

Twenty minutes later he’s sitting at his desk in a spiral of anxiety. It’s fine, though, right? That woman will probably keep it to herself, and she’s just some random researcher, there’s no way anyone else will hear about his stupid comment. There’s no way Elias will hear about it - and even if he does, Elias has always been a pretty laid back boss, maybe he’ll even find it funny?

Oh lord he’s going to die

The next day, everyone has heard about it. Jon can just feel it in the way people’s eyes follow him. Tim and Sasha give him twin funny looks, kind of half-disbelieving, half-amused. Jon slams his office door slightly harder than necessary. He puts it forcefully from his mind, and the day passes without incident. Until.

It’s the end of the day. Jon is walking towards the Institute’s main doors. Half the Institute seems to be there (fair enough, it is closing time), gathered in bunches, talking quietly, eyes flitting to him and away. Tim and Sasha are sitting on their Gossip Couch in the lobby, watching him. Elias is there, and waves him over, holding something that looks like a statement. Of course, today would be the day he decides to get involved in the archives.

Jon begrudgingly walks over. The second he reaches Elias’ side, Tim’s voice rings across the lobby. He’s walking towards them, saying something about hearing the most interesting thing from a woman in research, and how long have they been together?

Elias looks at him. Jon can see the instant when he realizes what’s happened, and, more importantly, he can see the precise moment when Elias decides to make things infinitely worse, because his eyes light up like he’s just been offered a second Christmas.

Elias turns back to Tim and, entirely matter-of-factly, says, “Two weeks.”

Tim, honestly, had not been expecting it to be true.

It’s bad. It’s bad, but… it could be worse. Two weeks isn’t a long time. It’s not like Elias has gone and made up an entire marriage or something. Jon will just put up with his coworker’s teasing for a couple of weeks, and then drop some vague comment about being too busy to date, and an amicable breakup, and that will be the end of the whole ordeal. This is fine.

Jon goes straight to Elias’ office the next morning to tell him just that, ignoring Tim and Sasha’s loud whistles as he reaches that particular set of stairs. He gets through a begrudging thank-you and a short explanation of his game plan, but once he’s done, Elias just folds his hands on his desk and smiles in a perfectly pleasant way that makes Jon feel like a minnow suspended between the open jaws of a shark.

Elias, as it turns out, has a party coming up next month, hosted by the Fairchilds, although Jon doesn’t know that name just yet. It’s an opportunity to garner more funds for the Institute, and he suspects one of the Lukases is going to ask him to it. Elias can’t afford to offend the Lukases, but he would also prefer to avoid getting roped into dating one of them again - (again??) - so why not stretch this fake dating thing out just a little longer.

Well, Jon thinks, there’s no harm in it, really. It’s just a month, just a party. And he does owe Elias for covering for him yesterday. So he agrees.

A week after the party, he’s preparing to drop his breakup comments over tea in the breakroom, when his cousin calls to invite him to her wedding. Bring a plus one! Oh god. He can already hear all the aunties, asking him when he’s going to settle down, why he hasn’t found someone yet. He bites his tongue on the breakup comment, puts his cup down, and walks up to Elias’ office.

It becomes a sort of unspoken agreement. Fake dating isn’t even hard; they’re adults with jobs, after all, not high schoolers spending every waking moment together. It’s an arrangement of convenience, more than anything, and the only thing that changes between them is that Elias visits the Archives more than he used to, and they talk more, and one time at one of Elias’ parties they danced, and it was nice, actually.

Meanwhile, for Jonah’s part, he’s having a baller time. Fake dating is such a small, petty thing, but the scheming that goes into laying out all the right little hints of domesticity, not to mention the fun of walking the line between performing for the others and legitimately flirting with Jon, always just short of anything that couldn’t be explained away - it’s like a fun, relaxing warm-up to his more important schemes.

Plus, he now has an excuse to spend more time with Jon, evaluating and pushing and molding the man who will become his Archive. It isn’t hard - and people like Jane Prentiss and Jurgen Leitner and the not-Them make it all the more easy.

On which note - Jane Prentiss happens. The Archives are in upheaval, someone definitely murdered Gertrude, and Jon is freaking out. Someone - Sasha, this person is Sasha - comes up to him to tell him that he shouldn’t be alone right now. Any good boyfriend would take him home, take care of him after something so traumatic. Elias is sitting next to him, and he gives Sasha a strange, sharp smile, and just as she’d suggested, he takes Jon home. Jon is too caught up in stress and exhaustion and who killed gertrude to remember that Elias is not, in fact, his actual boyfriend.

Maybe some part of him recalls, somewhere between the part where Elias so carefully tends to his wounds and the part where they fall asleep curled around each other, that this is not what fake-dating-at-parties-for-mutual-convenience is supposed to entail, but he’s so tired and there are so many bigger things to worry about than whether or not this is a boundary they shouldn’t cross.

He wakes up with Elias’ arms around him and Elias’ fingers combing gently through hair, and after that the line between fake dating and actually being in a relationship just gets blurrier and blurrier. But nothing really happens, not yet. Jon is in the midst of a murder investigation, after all - one even Elias is still a suspect in, warm mornings together or not. So they remain walking that line for months and months as Jon sinks further into paranoia, isolated from everyone - except Elias, who stays by his side like the supportive boyfriend he isn’t.

And then there’s the table. And the thing that is not Sasha. And Jurgen Leitner. And now he’s the one being suspected of murder. Jon does what has become his habit over the past two years when he is faced with a social situation he feels ill-equipped to deal with on his own. He goes to Elias.

And Jonah starts to rework his plans.

Maybe the fact that they now live together will make getting Jon marked by the fears harder, maybe it will take longer for him to be ready for the Watcher’s Crown. Maybe it will add years to his plans. But what good is a world without someone to rule it with? Maybe even, with time and patience, someone willing? Jonah’s waited 200 years to perform his ritual; for his Archive, he can wait a few more.

#this started out as a meme and then Escalated #I want to write this as a whole 200k thing but also... im tired #jonelias #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #jonah magnus #elias bouchard

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Note

Hi! I wanted to request a story where Hange asks Onyankopon to look out for Levi in case something happens to her and to not leave him alone, even after he recovers from his injuries 😭❤️. I love the way you write both Levi and Hange without being self-indulgent and I thought of asking you this, but only if you have the time to write. I know you’re currently working on other Levihan stories and you also have your own personal life and I don’t want to impose on you, so whenever you feel like it. I just wanted to share this idea with you.

Title: Coast Lights

Summary:

"Once or twice a year----or sometimes even less frequently than that, the moonlight would kiss the coast in a way that only the ocean would understand.

At the mercy of that breathtaking view, Levi let out a strange sound, a mix between a crack and a ragged breath. Then he spoke up. 'I can’t help but think, Hange would have liked to see this.'"

After the war, Levi still thought about Hange and maybe Hange still thought about him too.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: I have been meaning to write a post 139 fic for a long time and this prompt just took the cake anon, thank you so much for sharing and also for your kind words. Sorry it took a while, this prompt meant a lot to me and I wanted to be in the right mood when I wrote it.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Once or twice a year----or sometimes even less frequently than that, the moonlight would kiss the coast in a way that only the ocean would understand.

Sometimes, the moon and the stars cooperated. Sometimes they created their own luminescent paths along the black of the sky. Some lights would fall to the ground in streams. Then by coincidence or maybe by fate, the streams of light would dance amongst the glowing blue, making yellows and reds out of the sand underneath.

Times like those, the beach was chaos, a war of lights, where each source was fighting for the privilege of being seen by even the most casual bystander. Of course they would fight to be seen, that beach, isolated by two imposing cliffs at opposite ends never got too many passers by.

Hange was just one of the lucky witnesses. She was the witness to a beautiful war, one of the only wars maybe that she would have liked to be part of.

She ran to one end, stretching her hand out towards the cliffs, only pulling back when she was millimeters away from touching them. She then spun around and studied the beach, tracing with her eyes, the blue glow that lined the coasts.

Glowing blue jellyfish. She remembered reading about them in one of Armin’s books once.

She wished she could have seen them as a kid. With a little more wonder and with a little more innocence, maybe she could have thought they were magic. Maybe she could have believed miracles were real.

She had spent her earlier years trapped within the walls. Then her later years outside the walls but ironically, trapped by duty and obligation.

Now you’re free. She told herself, a feeble attempt to propel herself forward. Freer than ever. That one reminder proved more melancholic than happy.

She had fought for freedom her whole life. At that moment, she was blessed with the ultimate freedom and she felt guilty for not celebrating, even just a bit.

But it wasn’t the type of freedom most people would ask for. Of course she wouldn’t be completely jubilant about it.

Beggars can’t be choosers. That was the saying that echoed inside her.

Hange modified it into something more relatable.

Soldiers can’t be choosers. Soon after, she brushed away before it grew to anything worse.

She stretched again then ran forward, careful not to jostle the blue jellyfish that had settled at the coast. Then she laughed when she realized it wouldn’t matter.

Although she had grown accustomed to the lightness, to the disconnect over time, sometimes the old habits presented themselves in bouts of an ingrained respect for nature, in bouts of curiosity and wonder towards the world.

There were parts of the world she had never seen before and she had an eternity to explore.

That was one perk of freedom.

Funnily, she had chosen to tie herself down.

It wasn’t the best decision. Although sometimes, she considered the opportunity cost. When she looked back at the house up on the hill, only accessible through the precarious steps that lined the steep cliff, she remembered, it was an easy enough decision to make.

The world could wait. She could experience the world and its beauties in the next life, then the next life after that.

There was someone she would rather not keep waiting.

She climbed up the steps, only held together by ropes. When it was anyone else climbing, they would wobble, they would swing from left to right. For Hange, and Hange alone, they stayed still, made the climb all the easier and Hange was up before she even counted eighty steps.

The field was easy to run through. Maybe because as the house got nearer, she only ran faster. And she knew that if she scurried to the right of the porch, there would be a wide window and he would be there, sitting like he always was.

He didn’t greet her. Too engrossed in his book maybe?

Hange knew there was a more obvious answer to that.

She entered through the window and that time, she didn’t bother to pretend she was still at the mercy of natural laws. Even after months, it was surreal but when she imagined the mustiness by just the state of the dim room, she allowed herself to be pulled back to the world, even just by her imagination.

Levi’s reaction to her entrance though was a glaring reminder that it was only imagination.

Hange still liked to make conversation. “What are you reading this time?”

He didn’t reply.

She wasn’t bound by natural laws, nor was she bound by social laws. So she stood behind him, bent her head forward and read over his shoulder.

Simple prose, unknown characters, not recommended to start a story mid novel. The words blurred together quickly and Hange decided that it wasn’t worth her time to read through. Instead, she focused on his side profile and she traced the scar on his right eye. It was almost fully healed, save for the raw pink and the unseeing eye underneath.

“We could have been matching,” she said. Really, she probably would have gotten rid of the eyepatch if she knew he wouldn’t have bothered even getting one.

She didn’t know how long she was staring, how long she was following his eyes as they skimmed over lines. Restlessness had settled with the rhythm and the predictability of the small details.

Restlessness would settle but it would never die out. Hange was constantly impatient, she was constantly bored.

His concentrated face though and just the little details that composed him were enough to make time tick for her, albeit slowly.

When reading, his eyes would dart from left to right, sometimes his lips would move as a small and subtle movement. When he looked up, then behind him, Hange jumped.

Did he see me?

Surprise then bliss came and went in a split second. No, he didn’t, there had been someone else at the door.

“Levi, it’s late. You should go to bed,” Onyankopon said.

Hange begrudgingly sank back towards the corner of the room.

“I’m fine. I never slept more than three hours a night back---”

“Back in the military right?” Onyankopon interrupted. Then, he sighed. “You’re not as strong as you were before. Besides, there’s not much of war you’ll need to fight anyway, it’s best you use this time to recover.”

Levi didn’t reply. Instead he dog eared the book, closed it and dropped it on the side table. A sign for Onyankopon to go ahead, wheel him back to his bedroom.

Hange followed behind. In Levi’s bedroom, she stood a foot away and watched as Onyankopon methodically went through the process of pulling out his pajamas and dropping it on the bed then he helped Levi out of the wheelchair, gently propping him on the bed. He left the room long enough for Levi to undress.

Hange had some decency to turn her back. A naughty part of her had her settling on the bed, just for some hint of an illusion that maybe in another life they could have----.

Before she could even say it, she let out a hushed laugh. Then something louder when she realized, he probably wouldn’t hear it anyway.

The door creaked open again. “Levi, are you okay? You want anything?”

“Nothing.” Levi’s voice was muffled, his back facing the door.

“It’s a nice night outside. If you get bored, just look at the window, maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

Or maybe it could do the complete opposite. For Hange, there were more than enough constellations to trace, paths to put her thumb over. She wished she could warn him that he might not even sleep if he got lost in them. Then she remembered Levi didn’t sleep much anyway. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference.

Onyankopon let out a sigh, muttering something about a walk.

That had been more than enough to incite Hange’s curiosity. She followed again behind him. Levi was still far from healed. He probably wouldn’t be moving anytime soon anyway so maybe she could leave him, just for a moment.

After all, how many nights a year did the moonlight kiss the ocean? How many times did it take advantage of that opportunity when the coast was lined with a glowing blue? How many nights a year was the glowing blue bright enough to kiss back?

And Onyankopon had seen it too. Maybe he noticed how the night sky was a lighter blue than usual, and he saw how the streams fell deeper than the view the cliff allowed. He walked slowly at first, then he started to jog forward.

Hange did not need to make much of an effort to keep close behind. When he stepped onto the wobbly staircase, Hange was careful to pull back. She was light, most likely weightless but she didn’t want to take the risk.

So she jumped off the cliff.

Even the force of gravity didn’t demand to be felt. The pulling sensation at her gut, familiar from years working in ODM gear, was absent. Ruefully she noted, she probably would never feel it again. At the least, she got to enjoy the free fall with little to no pain at all. Whether she had landed on her ass, or her own two feet, she was in no state to tell.

She was too distracted by the glowing blue though to trifle with such details. She walked ahead, she allowed herself a quick scurry over the blue, down to the shallow waters which glowed with the same neon shades.

There were still streams of light. The moon was large, still high above the sky. And when she was staring straight ahead, counting stars and sketching shoddy drawings in the sky, she didn’t notice it or consider those two points in particular.

Something came as a hush. Then louder. “Hange?”

Hange spun around, looking back at the light blue by the coast. Just behind the rows of jellyfish was Onyankopon, his face pallid. His eyes and his mouth were both larger than what Hange had ever gotten used to, as if he had seen a ghost.

“I’m here!” Surprise or maybe desperation had her saying those words to the loudest of her abilities. She could never tell how far her voice travelled anymore, since it didn’t echo. It didn't tussle with the other sounds for its own place among them.

That time was no different. As soon as it came out of her mouth, she didn’t hope. Instead she walked back to the shore, plopped on the ground and sighed.

“God, I’m probably going crazy.” Onyankopon put a hand to his forehead and shook his head. “I should go to sleep.” His voice was tighter and Hange could have sworn she heard a crack. She didn’t even think that voices could experience wear and tear until then.

Seconds after that, Onyankopon made the trek back to the house.

Hange stayed behind. She lay back down on the sand, a bag of disappointment. An air of disappointment. A nothingness of disappointment.

When she was nothing, she was free but somehow, staring up at the sky, she realized, maybe she would have given up her freedom for just a little more time.

***

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Falco brought it up hesitantly over lunch. Even with his experience in the war, he was surprisingly still meek, easily rattled.

“Why are you asking about ghosts?” Gabi asked as she pierced another potato with her fork, so forcefully that it almost made Hange jump.

“Well at night… maybe even really early in the morning… Sometimes I hear the creaks of the floorboard coming from Levi’s room,” Falco said. He turned to Levi questioningly. “Did you ever hear anything?”

“I’m usually asleep.” Levi shrugged as he clumsily guided another spoonful of soup to his mouth. Learning to eat with his left hand was slow going but everyday, he was making some progress.

“Does anyone else hear it?” Falco’s eyes darted, alternating between the two other faces.

“This is an old house,” Gabi said.

“But why Levi’s room… there shouldn’t be… Levi can’t even walk right?” Falco argued.

“You read too many ghost stories…” Gabi’s tone was unchanging.

“What if it is a ghost?” Onyankopon dropped his own spoon and leaned back on his seat.

Gabi’s jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me you believe him?”

“You know, I took a walk along the coast last night.” Onyankopon pointed towards the window, tracing a line with his pointer finger for emphasis. “And I thought I saw someone there.”

“Maybe it was a trick of the light,” Gabi suggested. “There are jellyfish down there at this time of year right? And there were lots of stars last night…” Her words deteriorated to unintelligible babbling and Hange almost suspected she was a little more scared than Falco was.

Onyankopon shook his head. “It looked like a person.

Gabi’s hand was halfway to her mouth before she dropped it back on the plate. “It’s a trick of the light.”

“You know, in my culture, we believe ghosts exist. Ghosts of our ancestors, our friends, they all watch over us,” Onyankopon said, his voice light. “Or that is what my grandmother used to teach me. And if you don’t believe in them… You’re insulting them… And they might just come to haunt you!” He had said that last part loudly, a stark contrast from the overall volume of the conversation. It had seemed scary at first, before settling as something more playful.

Hange snorted.

Gabi didn’t see the play in it, she screamed, jumping up. “Maybe we really should get out of here. I wanna go back to Marley…” She buried her head in her hands. Her breaths came slow and deep, sometimes in heaves and exhales.

Exasperated or terrified. Before Hange could even make sense of it, Gabi quickly sat up.

Levi spoke up, his calm voice caught the attention of the room. “Even if there is a ghost here, even if there’s one in my room…” He worked his way slowly through those words.

Falco interrupted. “Aren’t you scared?”

Levi shook his head. “No, I feel more comforted than scared.”

“Why?” Falco asked. He moved to the seat next to a seemingly shaken Gabi.

Levi was playing with his food then and it looked as if he had no intention of putting it in his mouth. He hummed for a second longer.

“I’ve seen a lot of death in my life,” he started. “Even after my friends die, I worry about them. I wonder what happens to them after…If they see darkness or if they really just stop…maybe they don't even know what darkness is anymore.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But if ghosts exist at least I’m reassured, when people die, they don’t just… stop existing. It’s a reminder that maybe even after death, it’s not just nothing. There’s something after...” Levi could have said something more, but he didn’t and soon the anticipation died down to dead air.

After a brief silence, conversation shifted to plans after Levi’s recovery, Gabi and Falco’s plans when they grow a little older.

Levi kept quiet, instead focusing on getting the food into his mouth and Hange couldn’t help but note, he was eating much faster. Somehow, he had managed to chew with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

***

The conversation had proved to be informative. Hange only needed her sharpened deduction skills to make use of it.

She held her working hypotheses like a charm.

Hypothesis one: She was in one world and they were in another one

Hypothesis two: Sometimes, the lines would blur.

And Hange just had to listen more closely, she just had to feel it more carefully.

Over time, she had attributed sensations, feelings as things exclusive to the rest of the world, the living and the tangible. At three in the morning, she willed herself to focus on the silence, taking stock of the characteristic something-ness of her surroundings and the characteristic nothingness of her actions as she leaned on the door of Levi’s room.

Levi was unmoving on the bed and he was a good beacon, a sight to focus on. She moved forward slowly. If she closed her eyes and willed it, she had feet, she could move forward in slow and careful steps.

One step. Then two steps. Around the third step, the floors creaked. Then the rustle of sheets filled the room then a long groan.

Those last few movements weren't her doing. Despite his injuries, Levi had quickly pushed himself to a sitting position. Even in the darkness, the wince was very visible and Hange dropped her little experiment, rushing forward towards the bed.

He didn’t feel her hands on her shoulders, he didn’t grip when she slipped her hand under his. When she looked into his eyes, she saw they were far from blank. He was looking down at the floorboards, and it looked like he was searching for something.

He continued to stare.

Hange counted a few more seconds, then a minute.“Are floorboards really that interesting?” She asked with a laugh.

He didn’t answer.

Maybe Hange could have walked back to the doorway, then made the path back to the bed again, just to let the floorboards creak one last time. She made herself comfortable though, working for a semblance of a tingle as she lay on the bed next to Levi.

She felt a pang of regret when Levi let out a shuddered breath and fell back on the bed. She had known him long enough to read disappointment.

Then she didn’t have to read him anymore, he spoke up in silence. “If you’re the ghost, you’re free to haunt me all you want. Make the floors creak as loud as you want.”

Hange though, was done for the night. Instead, she slipped her hand much further under his. It could have been her own imagination or it could have been something more.

She didn’t have enough emotion to spare to ponder all those at once. So she squeezed hard again and concluded for herself that maybe he could have felt it too.

***

The line between her world and his was a fickle thing. In time, with the right experiments, sufficient awareness of her own surroundings, patterns showed themselves and Hange was quick to pick them out.

There were times she had wanted to cry. Guilt, sadness, regret were the first line culprits. Then there was anger, frustration at the tears she couldn’t shed. For someone without a body to hold them, emotions found other ways to channel themselves, to let themselves be known.

There were heavy waves that transformed into whirlpools. They welled inside her, they swirled into every end of her body, sometimes they manifested as tingling sensations at her tips.

When Levi lay in his bed, an alarming white, Hange was sure it was everything at once.

“Pneumonia,” Onyankopon repeated, a simple enough explanation for Gabi and Falco who had hesitantly settled in the room.

Onyankopon continued. “He might have to stay overnight at the hospital. I called some help to get him transported to the nearest town.”

“Nothing they can fix here?” Falco asked.

Onyankopon shook his head. He didn’t say anything more. He was silent when help came and when the paramedics carried Levi like he was a starved child. Hange only noticed, when it had taken only one burly man to carry Levi to the ambulance, that Levi was small, very small.

Then another whirlpool of emotions took over. Anger? Pity? Regret? They were incomprehensible but they were enough to have Hange rushing behind them.

The town hospital was busier than she had expected. Her senses were suddenly heightened, maybe because it wasn’t just her world anymore. When she closed her eyes, when she let herself feel the bristle at her tips, she felt the presence of other companions. She wasn’t alone. If she called out, maybe someone would come.

Her focus was on Levi and as much as possible, she didn’t spend too much time along the hallways. She rushed into his room, behind the doctor, slipping herself through the crack of the door.

“He just has to make it through the night.” The doctor’s words were cold, firm. For a second, Hange wondered how he had managed to reach that age, making a living off of aiding patients when he had the bedside manners of a brick. “It says here he was caught in an explosion a year back, did a number on his organs.”

The smoke, the fire, maybe that was the reason, his lungs were weaker. Hange quickly deduced.

That wasn’t an excuse to die.

For a second, Hange even entertained the possibility, if he died, maybe he would see her. They could talk, catch up, hold each other. She shook those thoughts away, letting the guilt fall with it and she jumped onto the bed, next to him. “Come on, you can’t die here, You didn’t survive a decade long war just to die of pneumonia.” She let out a laugh, she timed her own breaths to the sound of the beeping of the machine, to the whoosh of the ventilator.

And she pressed herself closer to him. He was still breathing, still moving just slightly. A sign of life maybe. And the closer she went, the more she realized, she could pretend it tickled her ears.

“Fight,” she whispered.

Levi opened his eyes, turned to his side. A glimmer of hope for a second, as Hange pondered if he had seen her.

“Levi, rest.” Onyankopon was behind her again, having settled on the chair by the bedside.

Disappointed, Hange rolled out of the bed and back to the floor. The world was suddenly heavy. Whether it was their world, or hers, or both, she didn’t think too hard to tell. But she could release it somehow.

She played pretend again. She saw the side table, a bottle of water, a packet of pills and she swept over it in one violent movement.

For a second she felt hard plastic, the rough paper at her tips. Then nothing.

Everything scattered to the ground, in some chaotic order. Calm again, Hange bent down to pick it up, only to find out she didn’t feel anything again, even as she hovered closely over them.

They weren’t hers to touch anymore.

In some act of obligation or maybe act of support, Onyankopon appeared next to her. He bent down, picked up the bottle on one hand, the packet on the other then placed them back on the side table.

Then he broke the heavy silence. “Hange, if that’s you… We’re trying our best.”

When Onyankopon left for the night, it was just her and Levi in the room. Sometimes, the occasional nurse would pop in but not for long enough for Hange to have to gather herself.

She let the emotions out again, not as bursts but as streams. She found, if she gave it more than enough time to come out, they didn’t riot. They complied with limits, they acted with civility.

There was a pen on the side table, and on the wall next to Levi’s bed, there was a chart. There were numbers Hange could make sense of if she tried hard enough.

At that point, her goals were different, so she ignored it. She hovered her hand over the pouch next to it. She had managed to connect two fingers together, she just needed to do similarly with a pen in between them.

For just a second, she was successful.

But only for just a second.

The pen fell to the ground with a clatter. Hange decided it wasn’t worth it to bend over. Maybe because she theorized, if she did, she might not be able to stand up again. She stared once again at the white board. Wet hot tears welled inside her, wet hot tears that would never meet the light of day.

Hange stretched her hand out. She saw two fingers, then five as she opened up her fist, a fist she didn’t even know she had. She propped one finger nail on the board, digging it deep into the wood.

Her grip on the world was consistent enough at least that she could manage one rough and dotted line. So she traced it again and again, until the dots were completely carved over. That one straight line turned into another.

It turned out to be an unsettling sensation. The whiteboard made an ugly whittling sound, it danced even against her shaky touch. The few times their worlds connected, she felt a stinging phantom pain at her tips.

There was nothing to feel pain for her. There were no nails to break, no fingertips that could bleed. There was no living entity to take the consequences of leaving a shoddily covered sign on the whiteboard. Besides, it was small enough anyway, that anyone could easily brush it off.

Then she wondered if Levi would see it. Maybe he wouldn’t. At that point, she was too far gone, so she finished the message then allowed herself one last peek of Levi’s sleeping face. She sluggishly made her way to the corner of the room, lowered her body back down and closed her eyes.

It would be a long night.

***

By some miracle, Levi recovered quickly.

By the next morning, they removed some of the tubes. By evening, he could sit up, even for just a bit.

Hange had made enough of an effort to last even her afterlife. She was exhausted. Maybe dispirited was the right word? But it was a strange feeling that made the days move faster. She did not have much control over speed, over thought.

Even when visitors had come one after the other, even when Levi had attempted to sit up, she couldn’t bring herself to rush beside him. He was there though, he was alive and that had been good enough.

The next evening, a nurse finally pointed it out. “Someone wrote on the chart.”

“Did you coordinate the other nurses?” Onyankopon asked.

The nurse shook her head. “Not write… Carve. There’s a message here, carved on the edge of the board.” She undid it from its place on the bed and gently placed it on the side table. “Did any of your visitors do this?”

“So far, only Gabi, Falco and I have visited…” Onyankopon trailed off.

“Do you recognize the handwriting?” The nurse slid the board to a better angle, easier for Levi to crane his neck and take a look.

“It’s hard to tell…It looks like it was carved on the board with a fingernail...” Onyankopon said. “Levi, do you?”

“No.” he said it too easily.

Hange held herself closer. A part of her wanted the corner to swallow her whole.

The nurse shook her head. “Maybe we just didn’t notice it before. Could have been from another patient…” She muttered about other theories Hange didn’t bother to mule over.

Soon the nurse was out the door anyway and it was just Onyankopon and Levi in the room.

Levi spoke up. “Onyankopon… What if I told you, it looks like her handwriting?” His voice was weak. For Hange, it was strong enough to turn complete desolation to a glimmer of hope.

“If you think it’s her handwriting. I don’t see why we can’t stick with that assumption.”

Levi leaned back on the bed. “Well, it’s nice words to live by, especially if it came from her.”

Onyankopon nodded. “It is.” Then he slid his fingers over the wooden frame. “Live on.”

“Live on, Levi,” Hange whispered. To hell if those words even touched the still air of the room.

***

Hange became obsessed with noise. Many types of noise: The creak of the floorboards at her feet, the bump on the walls, the thump when items swayed with just a shrivel of wind.

The more she let emotions take over, the more things went bump and she started to realize it was an exhausting ordeal. Sometimes, the natural laws didn’t listen. Sometimes her hands didn’t connect with surfaces, sometimes hands permeated through solids.

Disheartened, Hange stood by the side of the kitchen a day after Levi was released by the hospital. He had retired to his bedroom as soon as they arrived home.

It was Onyankopon, Falco and Gabi gathered on the table. Hange took one of the empty seats, pretending that she was very much in need of the same comforts as everyone else.

“Have you ever gone down to the beach?” Onyankopon asked. It was an odd opening statement but as soon as Hange scanned the faces, noting the sullen mood. She realized there were only too many things one can say to even attempt to lighten it.

“A few times,” Gabi answered.

“But not at night right? At this time of the year?” Onyankopon asked. “Sometimes, the jellyfish would get washed up on shore and when they glow… it’s a beautiful sight.”

It has been a year since the last time Hange walked along the edge.

“What do you think?” Onyankopon asked. “We could go down, just long enough to cheer you two up.”

“We’re not sad,” Falco said, an uncomfortable grin on his face. “We’re just worried.”

“I’d rather you didn’t waste your time on that. Levi’s gonna be fine. Besides, we’ve lived here for more than a year already, it’s unbelievable to me that you haven’t seen it.”

It didn’t take much prodding after. The three made the trek all the way down from the cliff, they took to the staircase with prudence. Hange took the short more dangerous way, making the fifty feet drop down to the coast.

The blue jellyfish were there again, like they were every single other time. Onyakopon had been taking more walks, Hange had to note. Maybe that was how he had figured it out.

Eventually, they were all lined up at the coast, their expressions all showed different levels of wonder.

“I told you right? I saw someone the last time I was here,” Onyakopon started.

Gaby held herself close and Falco stepped forward, nearer to the shores.

Surprisingly, Falco had done the braver thing. “Who did you see?” He asked.

Onyankopon shook his head. “It could have been a trick of light. But you know, if you ask for a name…" He paused for a second, seeming deep in thought. "I could have sworn it was Commander Hange Zoe.”

Commander Hange Zoe.

In a world where she was a nothing, constantly floating amongst shifting lights and shifting darks, her name said aloud by someone other than herself, was a strong grip. Long ago, she was alive. Long ago, she existed. And maybe even after that, she continued to exist. If that limbo she found herself in, counted as existing.

It did count as existing. She was still very much Hange Zoe.

Realization was a burst of energy. Something that had her running forward again, just like a year ago, through the glowing blue, through the shallow salt waters that should have tickled at her shin.

It was like that scene last year again, with just two extra visitors.

“Did you see that?” Falco asked.

“See what?” Gabi asked.

Falco shook his head. “It could have been a trick of the light… But there was someone there in a green---”

“In a green cloak, then the wings of freedom?” Onyakopon said, a good guide for the two young kids.

Falco nodded. “The wings of freedom… The blue and white symbol right?”

“That was the symbol of the survey corps," Onyankopon explained.

Falco hummed. “If I’m not the only one who saw it… That means…” He still seemed unsure of his own conjecture.

And it turned out Gabi wasn’t in any hurry to help. “Ghosts don’t exist! Let’s go back upstairs.”

***

Some people saw it, some people didn’t. Hange only had to look back at her own experiences with ghosts to stumble upon the conclusion.

There were believers. There were zealots. There were warriors. There were scaredy cats, even among the battle hardened soldiers.

Over the years, it was a lingering belief, a passing one. When it became her whole life though, she decided to give it more than just a passing thought. Onyankopon could see with the right combinations of lights and Falco had proved the same.

When there were only four people in that house, barring the occasional visitor, It was only natural that her thoughts would fly to Levi. He was the only one after all among the four, who hadn’t witnessed the lights show for himself.

Timing though was a tricky thing. After all, the lights only came together once a year. If they were lucky, twice. If they were unlucky, none at all for that season. And Levi was in no position to walk, let alone climb down such a dangerous set of stairs.

A part of her would rather he never did anyway. He might even die just making the trip to the beach.

Live on. She held those words like a charm, as she sat by his bed, silently watching his sleeping face.

Even if ‘living on’ only composed of long days locked in the bedroom, of long hours in the reading room turning pages of books. After all, there was something beautiful about the small yet noticeable changes. The way Levi was sleeping more, yet waking up earlier.

He was turning pages faster. Sometimes Hange heard the rustles more incessant, loud sounds crammed into a second and she thought to herself, how it would have been nice to feel the rough paper on her skin again.

Onyankopon probably held the same thought. He never told Levi that he had seen a silhouette of Hange down at the beach. Hange could have sworn she had heard their hushed conversation about it, at three in the morning.

Would Levi have gone down if he knew?

Maybe he would have. No, Hange was sure she he would have. After all, he continued to look for her.

Hange still made the floors creak. Sometimes, they came as a high chirp, sometimes a low rumble. Still, every single one, had been enough to have Levi stirring, turning on his side, just to get a good look at the floor, the very boring wooden floor.

Sometimes, he would sit up on bed, still staring expectantly at the wooden floor underneath.

When Hange thought it important that Levi got some rest, she minimized it. Instead, forcing herself to stay calm as she lay next to him on the bedside.

And she learned overtime, at their calmest, at their most relaxed, spirits were very much invisible, maybe even dead to the world.

Dead enough to forget her own name? For a second there, she almost forgot who she was.

***

Time passed, by some miracle, Levi’s world got a little bigger. There was no prodding, no pressure to get better. It was only Levi’s pride that had him leaning on the side table, foregoing the wheel chair for slow painstaking steps.

Stairs were still a mind game, still a circle of hell for him but he had learned to let the bannisters do their work. If he held on tightly enough, shifting all the weight to his good leg, he could get down in time.

Many times, Hange had to stop herself and force herself to stand idly by. For a while, she had been almost envious of the bannister for having the right facilities to support him.

Once again, envy had her remembering, she was nothing but a ball of memories, a ball of emotions, only held together by faith and beliefs every year. It was the work of the concrete and the tangible, to keep Levi up.

Falco and Onyankopon still went down to the beach every single year. Sometimes, they called her by name, sending another wave of energy through her, letting the memories rush through her at once.

She was still Hange Zoe. She would always be Hange Zoe. In the next life, maybe in the life after that. That was what had her going, sitting by Levi’s bed every night. As long as she kept a tight grip on memories, they were still very much there.

Years passed in a very conspicuous way when there were two kids in the house.

Within years, Falco shot up. Suddenly, he was strong enough to carry Levi down the stairs on bad days. Gabi was getting taller as well, Soon, her head barely brushed Onyankopon’s ear.

It wasn’t just the people that changed though. Although that had been enough for Hange to realize, time was passing. There were other things that came abruptly.

Like an eviction notice.

“We’re gonna have to move,” Onyakopon said over lunch one day. He slapped the document on the table, and shook his head.

Of course, they couldn’t stay there forever. It wasn’t their land. They were merely paying rent, at the mercy of a landlord.

“Wait, why?”

“They wanna reclaim the land, turn it into a small port,” Onyankopon explained with a shrug.

“Wait, reclaim the land… You mean?” It was Falco who first put two and two together.

“The beach?” Gabi added.

“They’ll put more sound and soil over the water, build a street over it,” Onyankopon said.

“The jellyfish?” Falco asked.

“They’ll have to find another place to live?” Onyankopon seemed noticeably sad for a bunch of jellyfish.

“It’s not just tha--” Falco’s eyes were wide with horror. He turned to Levi before settling on the plate in front of him. “How long do we have?”

Onyankopon turned the paper around then put his finger on the first line on the upper right. “A month.”

For one season a year, the jellyfish would line the coast.

By some coincidence, or maybe by fate, it was already that season and if they were lucky, maybe they could catch it one more time in between packing things and cleaning the house.

Hange decided, she would rather it was coincidence than fate. Fate had already proven multiple times to have a cruel hand.

“You wanna go down to the beach? One time before we leave? It’s beautiful out there,” Onyakopon brought up the question while Levi had been putting away books from the shelf, throwing them into boxes.

“What does the beach have that I can’t imagine here?” Levi asked.

Maybe if Hange had a voice, she could have explained it. The way the lights mixed amongst each other, creating colors no one would have ever believed to have existed. If she was there, that would have worked. Even if the words didn’t work, if she had hands, if she had control over the tangible, she would have pulled him with one hand. Hell, she would have carried him herself.

Onyankopon had his own experiences, his own words. They turned out to be just as effective. “Hange.”

Levi looked back, his eyes wide. He didn’t respond. Maybe he had been too preoccupied with the shaking of his hands, uncontrollable shaking that ended with one heavy book splayed on the floor.

Onyankopon rushed to pick it up. “It’s beautiful down there. The jellyfish rest near the shores before they migrate elsewhere. They glow at night and the stairs look beautiful behind it. Sometimes, it’s enough to forget reality.”

Levi dropped his shoulders. “If they’re gonna reclaim the land, maybe it would be worth it to see it one last time.”

Onyankonpon sighed. “I’m gonna have to warn you, the trek is hard.”

“I think I’ve recovered enough for a small walk.”

***

A small walk was a very dangerous understatement. Levi lived on understatements though.

Hange just wanted to make sure, that understatement wouldn’t have been enough to kill him.

So she didn’t jump down. She crouched down over the cliff and watched as he descended the first steps. When she found herself having to bend over further just for a horrible and awkward angle, she decided to just take the drop and watch from the beach.

It took approximately fifteen minutes to get him down and Hange counted three times where she had ended up letting out a half scream before Falco or Onyakonpon had pulled him back at the last minute.

That one last almost-fall had been the scariest. Maybe because for that split second, Levi’s jaw dropped, his eyes widened. He seemed to have lost control of himself in that second.

Hange understood though just why he had seemed uncharacteristically disconcerted. It was in the glowing blue reflected in his eyes.

“If we show this to the landlord, do you think he’ll spare it?” Falco asked. It was a pathetic question and both a yes or a no wouldn’t have sufficed.

Levi sat back down on the sand in three stilted movements. “They don’t listen to anything but money,” he answered softly. The venom in his voice hinted that he could have said more.

“Let’s just treat this as the last time,” Onyakopon said.

Hange gripped time again and counted backwards. Five years.

Five years since Onyankopon had first seen her. Then the next year it had been the three of them. Then the remaining years it had been Falco and Onyankopon visiting.

Five times was enough though to get attached, especially when the view was strange enough to take someone’s breath away.

And it would be the last time they could appreciate that view. Hange wasn’t too surprised when she heard ragged breaths and soft sniffles behind her.

“We’ll just have to look for another one,” Falco shrugged.

“But do you think we’ll ever find one that shines the same way?” Gabi asked.

“Maybe,” Levi said.

“You know Levi, if you stare at it long enough, you might just see ghosts.” Onyankopon added playfully, close enough to Levi that it could have been just for him.

“I’d love to see a ghost,” Levi said, barely a whisper.

Hange had been close enough to hear it. She saw that as a cue to step forward, lightly over the sea of jellyfish. When she looked down, the water didn’t ripple. She hovered over it like a spirit, like air, like a trick of the light.

Onyankopon and Falco’s own belief had already convinced her long before, that with that exact way that the lights from the sky and the lights from the shores cooperated, the line between the two worlds blurred.

And there were just certain people, who could distinguish others as more than a trick of the light.

For how long would they see it? She never thought deep enough to find out so she didn’t know. If she could get a message across, it couldn’t hurt to try.

Maybe that would be the last place she could ever be visible. How many beaches shone with the same glowing blue? How many skys still glimmered with a clear view of the stars above?

More importantly, even if other places existed, were they so easily found? Especially when the three were constantly on the run from angry soldiers around the world.

Hange looked back, to see that Onyankopon and Falco had focused on her again, their mouths completely agape.

“Do you see her?” Onyankopon managed to ask, after one deep breath.

“See what?” Levi asked.

And with that question, disappointment blanketed the air of wonder.

“She’s glowing, green, brown, red just like when she died. Then a burning blue.”

Levi didn’t answer. His eyes seemed blank. They darted from each corner for a second before looking ahead then they narrowed. His lips trembled with what Hange could guess was frustration.

“And she’s smiling,” Onyankopon said.

Hange had to admit, she had let the warmth of the moment take over.

“A sad smile,” Falco continued.

Hange had to admit, she gave some of that disappointment free reign inside her.

“All I see is light,” Levi said.

“You get it!” Gabi put her hands up. “I thought I was the only one just seeing late. They made me think I was crazy for seeing nothing.”

Hange shook her head before she turned back to Onyankopon and Falco. The two were still staring.They wouldn’t hear her, Hange had tried too many times before.

But maybe if she mouthed something, they would get it. She didn’t let a silent sound escape her lips. At the same time, she made sure to enunciate every syllable.

“Did you catch that?” Falco asked.

Onyankopon only nodded. “Maybe I did.”

Hange blithely made her way back to the shore and bent over next to Levi. The sand didn’t crunch as she fell back on it. Over time they stopped making even the slightest sounds and she realized, maybe she didn’t mind being nothing.

“This might be the last time we're going to see something like this. Enjoy it,” Onyankopon said.

“I am,” Levi said.

“Take all the time you need.”

For a while they were silent. For how long? Hange didn’t bother to count anymore. Maybe it was the better choice to just let time flow in some incomprehensible way. After all, time was a concept exclusive to the living.

Levi let out a strange sound, a mix between a crack and a ragged breath. Then he spoke up. “I can’t help but think, Hange would have liked to see this.”

Onyankopon’s response came out seeming unrehearsed. “She likes it. I’m sure she does.”

“You think she got to see it?”

I got to see it every single time Levi. Hange decided, thinking it was enough.

“She was walking through it,” Onyankopon said. “Right Falco?”

Falco nodded lightly. “She was.” He had always been a genuine person and maybe that was why Levi had swallowed it so quickly, even if it could have seemed like a lie at first.

“What did she say?” Gabi asked.

Levi didn’t verbalize it. In fact, he seemed to have been asking the same question.

It was Onyankopon’s question to answer and he approached it like a painter muling over his first piece. “‘Take care of Levi.’ She told me to take care of you.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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chai-tealattae · 3 years

Text

Pen Pals

soul mate /ˈsōl ˌmāt/

noun; a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.

✒️ Pairing: Taehyung x reader

✒️ Genre: Fluff

✒️ Word Count: 2.4k

✒️ Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This is my first fic pls be nice AKSDK

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

You tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Tomorrow was your 21st birthday, the day your soulmate connection would be revealed to you. You’d heard stories from your parents, family friends, and even some of your friends that were a year or two older than you about the different connections. What if you got one that would make it damn near impossible to find them? What if your soulmate was older than you, and already knew, but gave up since you were too young? You sighed and laid flat on your back, staring at the ceiling, giving up on your futile attempts at a decent night's sleep, your mind hot with the different scenarios baking within it.

The next morning, you groaned and begrudgingly swung your legs over the side of your bed, stretching as you opened the curtains, the mid morning sunlight flooding into your room. You cringed slightly at the brightness, your eyes struggling to adjust. Yawning as you walked into your kitchen, deciding on a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Scrolling through your phone as you ate, you smiled as you read the birthday wishes from your friends and family. After replying to as many as you felt like doing, you opened Twitter to see what fresh hell awaited you on your timeline. Surprisingly there wasn't really anything bad being mercilessly tweeted about.

The one thing that caught your eye was the lovely photo on your screen, tweeted a couple hours ago, staring back at you. It was embarrassing how infatuated you were with a certain man by the name of Kim Taehyung. He was the perfect man, in all honesty, by your standards at least. He was devilishly handsome yet charmingly adorable from the tip of his nose down to his toes, the smallest details all adding to the things that caused him to worm his way into your heart.

You smiled as you saved the picture to your camera roll before setting your phone down on the table. Your smile quickly turned into a surprised squeak as you felt an oddly ticklish sensation on your wrist, and you stared down at it in shock. Appearing on your skin before your eyes was writing, but it wasn't just any writing. It was a greeting.

“Hello?”

This must be it, your soulmate bond. You didn’t know anyone personally with this particular bond, but you’d read about it through your countless nights of curiosity and excitement driven research.

You nearly tripped on your own feet as you scrambled to find some kind of writing utensil, eager to respond to the stranger. Not just a stranger. Your soulmate. You felt your heart rate quicken just at that thought. You found a pen on your counter, quickly scribbling a response below their message.

“Hello!” You wrote back. Not 30 seconds later, you felt the tickling sensation again, impatiently tapping your pen on the counter as you awaited their response.

“It’s you! You’re finally getting my notes!” You smiled to yourself, your late night suspicion confirming itself. They were definitely older than you, but hopefully not by much. You’d hate if you left your soulmate waiting for too long for you.

“How long have you been trying?” You wrote, a little smaller this time near the ditch of your elbow, so you wouldn’t take up too much valuable space on your skin. You bit your lip as you felt your skin tingle again, hoping it wasn’t too bad-

“Four years” Four years. Four whole years they’d been writing on themselves with no response. You sighed, feeling awful. Well, at least you knew how old they were. Twenty-five, twenty-six tops, if their birthday was coming up sometime soon.

“I'm sorry you waited so long… today is my 21st birthday” you wrote back, twisting your arm at a slightly awkward angle as you did this. You smiled softly, growing familiar with, and anticipating the feeling as they wrote.

“Happy birthday :)” Was written there. You smiled and wrote your thanks, not really sure how to proceed with finding them. You’d read that there were specific guidelines when it came to the different connections, things you weren’t able to do, since that would make finding your soulmate too easy. Things like their exact location, names, things of that nature. The catch is, you were able to reveal that when you were in the same vicinity. As if trying to find them wouldn’t be hard enough.

Over the next month or so, you’d learned that your soulmate was a man that was born in South Korea (you didn’t know how you’d ever be able to swing a trip there, or vice versa). You learned that he enjoyed drawing, painting, photography, singing and dancing. He was fun to talk to (at least until there wasn't any more space on either of your bodies for more ink). He had a pretty time consuming career from what he told you, but he still liked to draw you pictures to wake up to, or write you little good morning messages. You found yourself becoming incredibly fond of him, even without ever seeing his face.

One day, you found yourself staring at your laptop and phone screens, focusing excruciatingly hard on trying to score tickets to see BTS in your city. After nearly missing the opportunity, and a decent amount of money you’d surely have to pull quite a bit of overtime to make up for, you scored a decent seat for their show in a couple months. Eager to share the news with someone, you wrote on your arm.

“I just got tickets to see BTS!!” You wrote with a shaky hand, your already poor penmanship suffering even more. This would be your first time seeing them, seeing the man you’d had your eyes on for so long.

~~~~~

Taehyung smiled when he felt you were writing or perhaps drawing something for him. He loved reading your short messages about your day, getting to know you. Over the past months he was growing more and more impatient, half tempted to fly to the States and wing it. His heart nearly thudded out of his chest when he read what you wrote.

“I just got tickets to see BTS!!”

Holy shit. This was good. This was great, actually. Now he knew you were a fan. Jimin looked over when he saw the stupid grin plastered on his bandmate’s face.

“What is it, Taehyung-ah?” He asked. Taehyung didn’t answer verbally, just angled his arm so Jimin could see what you wrote. He broke into his own smile. “Oh this is good! Maybe you're closer to meeting her than you thought.” He said, patting the younger man’s back. Taehyung smiled with a nod, you being the only thing occupying his mind at the moment.

~~~~~

It was the day of your concert and you could barely contain your excitement. You barely slept the night before, knowing you would be exhausted, but couldn't find it in yourself to care all too much. You’d been waiting for what seemed like forever for this day, and weren't going to let anything, not even your lack of sleep, ruin it for you.

The day seemed to drag even longer than usual, before you figured it was a good time to start getting ready. You got dressed in an outfit that you purchased specifically for this event, a more affordable version of the Dior outfits Rap Line sported during their performances of Tear, and you put on your TaTa headband as the final touch. You know, so everyone knew specifically who you were there for. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, smiling and letting out an excited squeak as you grabbed everything you would need, before you made your way to the venue.

The venue was absolutely packed. There was no way you’d be able to even get any merch without missing half the concert standing in that line. You sighed quietly to yourself and went to your seat, busying yourself with syncing your lightstick so it would light up with everyone else's. You looked around from your seat, in awe about how many people were here. Crazy how many people could fit into one space.

While you waited for the concert to start, you decided to write him a message about how excited you were, and that you would keep him updated throughout the show. You decided to draw a small heart on your hand, in the space between your pointer finger and thumb, just because. You smiled when you saw his words appear on your arm.

“Have fun <3”

Oh, you would. You would have the time of your life. Little did you know, in more ways than one.

~~~~

Taehyung knew you had to be here somewhere. You just had to be. He ran a hand through his perfectly groomed hair, effectively rendering his stylist’s hard work useless. He couldn’t help it. Not when he knew his soulmate was in this building. His mind started to race. What if you didn’t want to be with him? What if you liked one of the other members better than him? What if you couldn’t deal with his lifestyle? He was pacing now, and everyone but him seemed to notice.

“Taehyung-ah, relax. I’m sure everything will work out fine.” Namjoon smiled reassuringly. Taehyung nodded and let out a breath, sitting down. They were called to start getting into position, and Taehyung knew he had to do it, now or he wouldn’t have time, and you would slip through his fingers. He pulled out his pen, writing one word on his forearm in larger than usual letters. He put his pen in his pocket, heading to where his microphone and earpieces were waiting for him, hoping you would see his message.

~~~~~

When the concert started, you could barely focus on anything else other than the men on stage in front of you. You felt the familiar tickle on your arm that your soulmate had written you, though you ignored it for the time being. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of Taehyung, witnessing his incredible stage presence and the massive amount of fan service he was giving was mesmerising, to say the least.

When time for the intermission came around, and the VCRs played on the big screens, you took a moment to see what your soulmate wrote to you. You gasped when you saw the big, capital letters spread along the length of your forearm.

“TAEHYUNG”

There was no way. Absolutely no fucking way. Kim Taehyung was not your soulmate. You had to have been some sort of saint in your previous life to deserve such treatment from the universe. You stared at your arm for a few more seconds in complete disbelief, before taking your pen out of your pocket, writing your name under his on your arm. A minute later, you felt him writing, and you anxiously chewed at your lip as you awaited his response.

“Where are you?”

You hurriedly scribbled your section and seat number, your brain barely able to process what was happening.

Within 5 minutes, there was a man approaching you, asking you to confirm your name. When you did, he told you to come with him, you did without asking any questions. The man led you backstage, and you looked around, frantically trying to find the familiar face in the crowd of stage hands.

When your eyes finally met his, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Was it anxiety? Excitement? A spicy mixture of both? You couldn’t really tell, but there were some things you needed to see. His long legs effortlessly closed the distance between you, until you were standing toe to toe. You looked up at him and he looked down at you, neither of you truly believing you were here at this moment. You studied his face for a moment, then without a word, you took his hands, inspecting them. There it was. You brought your hand up and compared, the tiny heart you drew on your hand matching the one on his. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the messages you’d written to each other throughout the day.

“Y/N…” He said quietly, only loud enough that you could hear. “I finally found you. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

“I can’t believe it’s you.” You said as you looked up at him, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. He smiled and brought his hand to gently cup your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing against your cheekbone.

“Are you disappointed?” He asked with a chuckle, his tone teasing. You shook your head, letting out a quiet laugh.

“Not even a little bit.” You reassured him, smiling softly. He gave you a toothy grin before leaning down and closing the small space between you, and you couldn’t help but melt when his lips finally met yours. The kiss was soft and careful, as if he was testing the waters. When you pushed slightly against his lips, he deepened the kiss just a little more.

He was the first to pull away, seemingly remembering his surroundings, and you caught the faintest tint of pink creep onto his face. It was almost time for him to go back on stage, and he rested his forehead against yours for a moment, his eyes locked with yours as he intertwined your fingers with his.

“Wait for me? I plan to talk to you for hours, now that I can finally hear your voice.” He said, and you nodded without hesitation. He smiled widely before pressing a kiss to your forehead, jogging off to wherever it was he was needed. You sat on the couch that was there for the members beside the stage, running a hand through your hair. Never in your wildest dreams did you think something like this could happen. Not to you, at least. You felt him writing again, and this time, you paid full attention to the words appearing along your arm.

“I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you read those 3 words, pulling out your pen and writing your response.

“I love you too.” You wrote, carefully, easily readable. Never had you meant something more in your life. You couldn’t wait for him to come back to you, for him to execute his plan. After what felt like a very long time, you couldn’t wait to finally begin your life with the man you happily called your soulmate.

#taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung x you #taehyung #Kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #bts fic #BTS v #bts #bts fanfic #taehyung fic #kth oneshot #kth #soulmate!au #soulmate!taehyung #taehyung au #bts au

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fictionbyafangirl · 3 years

Text

Tundric Heart

//Hi, all! After becoming absolutely *obsessed* with the new Mortal Kombat movie, as well as being a fan since the games began, and being a fan of JoTa since I saw The Raid: Redemption when it first came out and since then, I decided my flagship fic shall involve Bi-Han/Sub-Zero. This takes place prior to the film, having nine tournaments been fought. This is a POV-shifter and involves our favorite chilly boi with an original character. Naturally, I own no rights to the franchised character and only write out of my own fun. I hope you enjoy!\\

Nothing phased him anymore. Bi-Han had lived many centuries, each reinforcing his growing lack of humanity toward the world, whether it be Earthrealm or Outworld. Due to his “gifts”, Bi-Han had become a favorite champion for Shang Tsung in the Mortal Kombat tournaments, successful in more than not and ultimately becoming an attack dog at the sorcerer's will. Despite Bi-Han wanting the Lin Keui to be free-agents once again, himself, primarily, he obliged, knowing he owed Shang Tsung his fealty for the many favors he performed for him in the past. The Lin Keui had been an elite group of assassins for those who could afford them. Either born into the organization or kidnapped as a youngling for the cause, its numbers were always plentiful. Bi-Han and his brother, Kuai Liang, had served the clan well, rising through the ranks. Bi-Han, though, had become the face of the group. The fierce fighter had gained notoriety for defeating the one and only Hanzo Hasashi, as well as the Shirai Ryu, a noble competitor clan in their world of crime. Over four hundred years had passed, yet a looming whisper of a threat still hung in the air from the very fatality that put Bi-Han on the map. Ever the paranoid ruler, Tsung tasked Bi-Han with finding the last remaining Hasashi blood heir and executing them. To the cryomancer, there was simply no point in doing so. He had ended the lineage himself many lifetimes ago. The Hasashi family fell to his hand, and he knew it, first-hand. Still, the soul-eater feared the prophecy of the uprising of Earthrealm defenders to thwart the imminent takeover, if the last tournament should be victoriously won by the mortals with an arcana gift. Nine circuits had been finished in the favor of Tsung, only needing two more to claim supremacy over the mortals. Begrudgingly, Bi-Han found himself in his home-realm on a reconnaissance mission to find out if the myth was true. One thing the warrior loathed was to be undermined, especially by Tsung. His employer had a knack for sending in the reinforcements if the smallest of setbacks occurred. Bi-Han was more than confident in his skill and ability to successfully fulfill his duties. To send in those that were inferior to him was simply a slap in the face. Not a day went by that the assassin didn’t think of a world where he no longer served Tsung.

The man was ageless as he sat across from a run-down diner, concealed in darkness. Darkness had always been his friend, even in the glory days of the Lin Kuei and the chaos they inflicted on their world. Darkness cloaked him in secrecy. Darkness gave him advantage against his opponents. Darkness felt almost as familiar and second nature to him as the cold. It had been a rainy evening, the spray of dingy gutter water spraying up from beneath the tires of those driving muddled the sidewalk. Bi-Han, looking not a single day older than he had when he terminated Hasashi, watched the neon sign that indicated that the diner was “open” flicker against the night. Dressed in black athletic jogger pants, a black zipped-up windbreaker jacket and a black hat with the bill curved and pulled down low to conceal his other-worldly eyes, the man watched from outside an abandoned building that sat adjacent to the diner. Arguably, the only physical trait that had changed about him was the hue of his eyes, shifting from a deep brown to a starkly bright blue so pale that it nearly looked like ice had formed in his irises. These were the attributes of a cryomancer, and bastard Edenians, alike. Those of Edenian nature aged much slower than humans, living so long that tens of thousands of years was still considered to be in one’s youth. His hair remained raven in color though his skin did grow more pallid as though encrusted in frost, but not. The cryomancers had been banished from Edenia long before Bi-Han’s birth, but the genes that descended from the gods still carried on through himself and his brother, Kuai. Down the block, a group of young men were approaching the corner door of the diner, rowdy and raucous as they walked before ducking into the establishment. Taped hands rose from Bi-Han’s sides to bring the hood of his skim jacket up and over the top of his head, further obscuring his identity. He waited a few minutes to allow them to settle into their normal places to not rouse suspicion before crossing the slick city street. In all of the years of Bi-Han’s life, he had tuned his tracking abilities to be imperceptible.

His intel told him that a group of men, one that bore the mark of the dragon, frequented the very location nightly, as though a ritual amongst the friends. Bi-Han’s head never lifted as the bell on the handle of the door jingled to alert a new customer, and luckily, neither did theirs. His gaze remained to the lower-half of the room to not allow his face to be seen. The fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling in panels glared harshly in contrast against the natural darkness of the night he had waited in. Slipping into a corner table, the plastic-covered stuffing of the seat gave out a subtle hissed as it depressed beneath his weight. The group of men continued their merry occasion, joking and talking with elevated volume. The more attention they brought to themselves and detracted from himself, the better. It didn't take long for the waitress on shift to approach them, seemingly having a report with them as she used their names, engaging in banter with them as they shamelessly flirted with her. Her kind and clever rebuffs and deflection to their order inquiries showed that this was an occasional thing they did. She clearly wasn’t in the business of seeing any of them casually, yet they pushed the envelope with hope. Their nonchalance toward her left little disgust in Bi-Han’s mouth, but still, he surveyed. The fighter spared a moment to take in the new environment. The faded color scheme and furniture showed that the restaurant had not updated in some time, clearly struggling financially to keep afloat to bother with aesthetics. The tables were uneven as they stood and the seating creaked under pressure. The artwork that laid scarcely among the walls were drab and unappealing. Virtually everything that had been a polished metal before now rusted with weak infrastructure. The location was dying out, most likely kept in business by the nightly patronage of the subjects he followed in.

Bi-Han focused all of his senses on the men, discreetly, as to not be noticed. He eavesdropped on their conversations, watched as they removed their outer-layers for any sign of the marking. He even committed bits of things they said to memory in the off-chance that it would aid him in his mission. His focus was solely on the group and everything they did. His gaze, though hidden beneath the bill of a hat, was fixated without any breaks, that is, until the image of an apron filled with pens and order tablets slid into his view. Bi-Han held his breath as the tell-tale spiel was about to be given to him.

“Hi, there! I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. My name’s Jill and I’ll be your waitress on duty tonight. What can I get you?” No matter where you went, every restaurant had the same, generic greeting.

Holding his breath for a moment to consider his response, Bi-Han decided to play it cool, not wanting to garner any awareness of his existence. The woman was polite enough for him to not care about the disruption. While she had been tending to the object of his assignment he had been able to get a good look over on her. She was attractive with cream-like skin and smoky hazel eyes and hair the color of maple that sat in delicate, loose curls that cascaded down the sides of her face. She dressed semi-comfortably in a baggy button-up flannel shirt that she tucked into the waistband of her tapered jeans that clung to her ankles and simple shoes with her apron and a name badge in place. She kept her makeup natural and modest, which was a pleasant thing to come across with women. With an errant hand, Bi-Han, without tipping his face at all, flipped the menu on the table over to quickly peruse the refreshments section. Quickly, his eyes settled on his selection before speaking it aloud to her, though in a low, hushed tone.

“Green tea. Iced.” His tone was short and cold, as per usual with him, and he offered no opportunity to continue the conversation. He was there for a reason, after all.

With a curt nod, Jill fished a dense book of ordering tickets from her apron and a pen to scribble down the table number and order to keep her tabs in-line. Bi-Han could hear the sound of the ball-point pen against the paper, attuning himself to his surrounding once more.

“Iced green tea, coming right up. What’s uh… a name I can put on this order?” The waitress inquired with an arched brow as her teeth found the corner of her lips, nibbling gently in a nervous gesture. Bi-Han took another moment to contemplate his response. His true, given name was something that was well-known. Instead, he improvised.

“Brian.” He was blunt again, cutting to the chase without any inflection to invite casual conversation.

“Right. Iced green tea for Brian, coming right up.” Jill relayed before bouncing away from the table to fulfill his request. She caught on to his tone quickly and read it loud and clear.

Naturally his order was the first one to be completed. Jill returned with his drink in-hand, along with a wrapped straw and a saucer of potential add-ins for the beverage. Bi-Han offered a small nod to thank her, fixating his senses back on the group of men across the room. Absently, he unwrapped the straw and slipped it within the glass, taking absent sips through it to not reveal his face. The preparation in the States certainly didn’t do the authentic drink justice as it did in his native China, but still he managed to swallow it down as he kept his eyes on them. Although the drink had ice in it, it didn’t suit him. His hand reached around the cylinder, his fingers releasing their icy powers to chill it even further, finally making it satisfactory to his liking. Bi-Han sat with his back pressed against the glass window that separated himself from the outside world. The rain continued to fall, pelting against the window pane. He could just as easily end the waiting and watching. He could turn every plunging bead of water into a lethal bullet to litter all of the men in holes, taking care of every lead. Still, he blended into the foreground, motionless and silent. He wasn’t sure how long the men would lounge in the diner but he would be observing for as long as they would be. Someone was bound to slip and reveal themselves, reveal their arcana… something. If Bi-Han was anything, he was patient.

#Tundric Heart #fanfiction #Mortal Kombat #Mortal Kombat 21 #Bi-Han #BiHan #Sub-Zero #Bi-Han x Original Character #Sub-Zero x Original Character #Bi-Han x OC #Sub-Zero x OC #MK21 #Chilly Boi #chapter 1 #Mortal Kombat Fanfiction #Mortal Kombat 2021 FanFiction

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danteinthedevildom · 3 years

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yes! i hate it when people say belphie doesnt care for mc, this is a personal opinion but i feel like even if we werent related to lilith (and somehow we came to life again) he would be close to us, and try. seeing how the people he cares about the most react to someone he thought was just a human dying would probably push him to get to know MC. i know some people also think and argue that beel sees MC as a replacement for lilith too; but i know 100% he doesnt, he hasnt been able to verbally talk about his sisters passing to anyone, i mean almost right after she died belphie was taken away and beel assumed he was in the human world on "buisness", so for beel to openly talk about lilith with us as much as he does it feels special. i know he sees mc as their own person because of how much hes able to share with us, beel talking with mc about his feelings means hes able to finally move on, not to say that he'll forget about her, but he knows hes ready to finally stop beating himself up for it yk? i feel like people were also conflicted about seeing belphie as someone who cares for mc, especially the 180 he does when he finds out we're liliths relative; but belphie has had so much trauma, seeing the person he loved the most die, being separated from his brothers for years and years, etc. he was locked away with his mental illness for a long time, the anger bottled up and he took it out on mc, of course it explains it but it doesnt excuse it, you can still continue to hate belphie idc but i feel like he loves mc more than the other brothers do because of it, its the same thing with beel, mc allowed both of them to cope and talk to them about their sisters passing, yk?

Honestly the whole of Chapter 16 and associated fallout is p. controversial simply bc of it being us that it happens to; the game's written for us to imprint on the MC, and because of that, some scenes - like Belphie's betrayal and his glee at having killed MC - becomes very, very personal. It's very easy after that to become biased against a character, because there's genuine emotional scarring that we're left with as players that the game then just... fails to acknowledge to its fullest. (Which is why we get so many "MC might have forgiven Belphie but I haven't" fics on AO3.)

But to say that Belphie doesn't care for MC is just. Wrong. And I can def. get your annoyance on that!

He didn't care for MC to begin with, yes; MC was a random human he knew nothing about, a ticket to freedom and the first step into enacting revenge for something he's carried with him for millenia. They didn't matter to him outside of that because he never got to see them - or spend actual time with them - outside of the short visits they could afford to update him on their pact progress. That's undeniable.

But to say that he still doesn't ignores the entire point of the Lilith revelation. Being related to her gives Belphie something to connect with MC over. It gives him a reason to overcome his hatred of humanity and to bond with MC in general - which is selfish, yes, and kind of shitty, true, but so much of Belphie's (admittedly misplaced) anger comes from being a survivor of an incredibly one-sided war and (arguably, in his mind) the reason Lilith died to begin with. Because Beel saved him instead of her.

It's not like any of them were ever given a good way to cope with the trauma of the Fall, or Lilith's death. It's not like any of them even knew her actual fate until Chapter 16. Belphie's way of coping was to become apathetic, and to try and place the blame onto something he could take action against.

To him, that meant humanity. Because she fell in love with a human. Because they'd already fought God and lost, so he wasn't going to get closure there - but maybe ending the cause for her death would help the hurt.

He hated humans because of Lilith. In the realm of good story-telling, the best way to end that hatred is likewise through Lilith. Stories are best when they have that cyclical nature to them - especially since it can then transition into Belphie overcoming his trauma (and Lilith's death) through humanity.

So, yeah; it's a selfish reason to get close to someone, to take back the really horrific thing you were going to do, but all of Belphie's anger stemmed from the Fall and what he perceived as her death. Finding out that she didn't actually die? That she became human - became the very thing he wanted to destroy - and lived out a long life? That she had children, and that her family line is still alive in MC? Of course that's going to stop him dead in his tracks. And of course he's going to want to get close to MC, the last remaining fragment of the sister he's dedicated his entire life post-Fall mourning.

Belphie's an incredibly apathetic character by nature. He doesn't care about a lot of things, and everything he cares about is overshadowed by how much he loves Lilith. He needs that connection to get him out of his natural apathy. He cares about Lilith above all else; he'll care about MC at the drop of a dime if they're anything to do with her.

But that's not a bad thing. It means there's an opportunity for him to genuinely get to know who MC is, in a positive light.

It's an opportunity for him to try and make a connection with MC that simply wouldn't have existed otherwise, and through them, to finally, finally put his memory of Lilith to rest. And he does! He gets to know MC, gets to know why Beel adores them so much - outside of just being "Lilith's descendant" - and ends up loving them for who they are.

He puts his hatred of humanity and his single-minded attachment to Lilith behind him, and he still cares for MC. He wouldn't do this if he'd really not formed some sort of bond with them before that point. If he only cared for them because they're a fragment of Lilith, then they'd mean nothing to him once Lilith wasn't such a fervent part of his daily life.

I think the game's just... really bad at showing that, however. You put it really well when you called it a 180, because in all honesty? The game glosses over it much too quickly, and doesn't do a totally good job explaining the logic behind why he'd change his mind so fast.

There's not enough time spent on allowing MC - and the player - to overcome the emotional wreckage of Chapter 16 + fallout. We're not given the chance to process it before Belphie has, to build up a natural relationship with him that transitions slowly from him seeing MC as a Lilith-connection to him seeing them as their own, defined person. It's way too easy to still be emotionally hung up on it while he seems perfectly fine and dandy.

On your bit abt him overcoming it even without the connection to Lilith - I agree tbh! There is a lot Belphie would do for Beel, and I genuinely think seeing how against him Beel is after killing MC, even if they're brought back to life, would ruin him. Belphie being locked up, trying to convince Beel that he was doing the right thing, only for Beel to disagree with him and show genuine anger/disgust, would knock the world from under his feet. If he thought trying to hurt MC would make him lose Beel too - if Beel pleaded with him to just play nice, because he can't choose between them both, not again - he'd likely (albeit begrudgingly) postpone his intended revenge plot.

And he'd try to stay bitter, and for a long time he likely would - but then he'd see how happy Beel is with MC around, and how much it means to Beel that they seem to get along, and how much Beel opens up to them about Lilith, and he'd start to... reconsider. Just a little. Just a bit. Moment by moment, day by day, until he realises that MC isn't a replacement for Lilith, but that they bring something to the table that the brothers have been missing for a long, long time.

Which would afford Belphie the moment of catharsis; where he finally, on a quiet night, opens up about the Fall. How he felt, how angry he is, how helpless. How much he misses her, how the pain and hurt consumes his every thought. And then the player would get the chance to overcome the emotional strain with Belphie, showing him that his anger shouldn't be aimed at humanity when his Father is the one at fault, and Belphie, very quietly, admitting that they're right.

It could work, and work well. It's just a point of finding - and hitting - the right story beats.

On the topic of Beel - honestly, the concept that he sees MC as a replacement for Lilith is just... I personally couldn't imagine it. I can see how someone else could - being her descendant, the attic sandwich club, their little escapade together once Belphie's back in with the family - but that includes seriously misreading/ignoring a lot of Beel's character arc/development.

Beel talks to MC about Lilith and Belphie way before he knows anything about their relation to her. He sees a lot of her in them, yes - he mentions this a few times, I think, in relation to little things they do - but he also sees a lot of what he wants to be in them - which is best seen in their ability to defend both himself and Luke, which be very subtly compares to his own inability to save both Lilith and Belphie.

To Beel, MC stands as something a little idealised. MC is everything good he saw in Lilith (as well as some of the things he loves most about Belphie), and everything he wishes he could have been. MC is a reason to be better, stronger, more capable - both so he can protect them the way they protect others, and so he can feel as if he's on their level.

But that doesn't mean he sees them as a replacement to the people he's lost. It's arguable that he's projecting, sure, I'll admit that; he sees things he misses most of the people he's lost in MC, and I'm sure forming a bond with them helped him cope while he was without Belphie. But MC is still always MC to him. They're always still their own person, and someone he cares for because of that fact.

Beel cares too much about his family to replace them with someone else. Lilith meant too much to him as a person for him to look at MC and actually see Lilith. He misses her, not the idea of her. He feels guilt that he couldn't save her. His trauma revolves almost entirely around the failure of (self imposed) duty and the subsequent loss of life. His Survivor's Guilt is the main reason Beel can't put her memory to rest - because he's constantly haunted by the thought that he could have saved her.

His trauma, the way it is, does not create a setting where he would believably see MC as a replacement for Lilith. He's all too aware that she's gone. He's all too aware that he lost something he can never get back that day. Her memory is special to him, and being unable to talk about her hurts him because that's a bit like killing her off for good.

MC can't replace Lilith, even being Lilith's descendant, and I genuinely can't believe that Beel would even want them to. He's so defensive over Belphie and Lilith, even just over the memory of them; to suggest that MC could replace one of them I feel would anger him more than anything. Not only because it's an insult to Lilith, but because it's an insult to the person MC is. To the person Beel admires.

With just how much he cares about Lilith, I think Beel's enhanced attachment to MC is more the steadfast defence of her lineage to make up for what he couldn't do for her. He still sees MC as their own person, it's just that now... now he has a chance to make up for what he failed at before. And bit by bit, he can learn to forgive himself. Can learn to stop blaming himself for something that was never his fault to begin with.

Belphie and Beel have a special relationship with MC because MC is a direct link to Lilith that helps them overcome their individual Lilith-related traumas. They're naturally going to be closer to MC due to this, yeah, but that's... not the only reason they're close to MC. To try and push down everything they feel and do with MC to "it's only because MC is Lilith's descendant" is to. Well. A) make an incredibly unsatisfying story and character development, but also B) completely ignore that MC helps them bury the memory Lilith. MC helps them move on. Their care and love for MC is what helps them finally let go - to stop living in the past, in hurt, and to finally take a step forward to a future without the weight of Lilith's death constantly burdening them.

Like. If Solmare had just spend a little more time on these two, that might be clearer. Because it's definitely there! And it's why I love Belphie and Beel so, so much. But it's also fully understandable why some players still really dislike Belphie, or why they're not convinced that Belphie/Beel see MC as anything outside of Lilith, bc the game does kind of fail on that a little by rushing a bit too much. Just. Aagh!! You know?

I could honestly go on abt them for hours. So I should prolly stop here before I go on too long adfgh.

#obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #I still have no idea what to tag half of my shit as adfgh

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yurissweettooth · 3 years

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Yay For 10 Years!🎉🎉

*Psst, click the image for higher quality!*

I have zero shame in saying that this show (and all related media) has changed my whole life in so many ways! I’m also not shy about the fact that my heart belongs to Yuri (I think he's so cool!) so of course he was the obvious choice for who do draw and write a short, light hearted fic about (which you can read below the cut!)💚💙

I hope everyone has had a lot of fun on this day!

“Let’s see here… Kotetsu Kaburagi damage report… Kotetsu Kaburagi damage report… Kotetsu Kaburagi... damage report…” Yuri exhaled, massaging the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he leafed through a mountain of crinkled, coffee stained documents. It was of little to no surprise that the pile of paperwork that had been left on his desk while he was away on his lunch break could mostly be attributed to the more reckless half of Sternbild’s prized crime fighting duo. With a sigh Yuri lifted the receiver of his phone, intending to politely remind Tiger once again not to use his paperwork as a coaster. However, before he could dial the number it had begun to ring.

“Justice department, Yuri Petrov speaking.” he answered, suppressing his annoyance and replacing it with his usual polite tone.

“Good afternoon Mr. Petrov, it’s Agnes. As you might be aware, today is the ten year anniversary of the Justice Tower’s remodeling.” She explained.

“Remodeling?”

“Yes. Ten years ago today all of the walls were repainted and appliances replaced to give it a more modern look to reflect a new era of Heroes.” She stated, as if that really explained anything at all.

“That is quite lovely to hear Ms. Joubert. The paint is, uh, a very nice color.” he stated politely, not even sparing a glance at the boring grey walls that surrounded him.

“Look, you don’t have to flatter me, I couldn’t care less about the paint color either. The sponsors are complaining that the returns on their investments are decreasing so we need to drum up some interest and we need to do it fast. Anything can be a reason to celebrate if you look at it right way, right? I mean, do you have any better ideas?”

“Ms. Joubert, I’m merely a judge… I apologize, but I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“Yes, precisely! You’re a judge, bringer of justice, upholder of the law!” she passionately proclaimed “Apollon media stands for justice, as such it’s only natural that we feature a man of true justice like yourself..”

Yuri elicits a sound of smug approval and leans back in his chair “Well, I suppose when you word it in that way I may be able to see your point.”

“Fantastic! So, of course our main heroes are our star attraction, our second league heroes are a nice side dish, but you’re probably somewhere right below that when it comes to your importance in delivering justice. ”

“Oh… is that so?” Yuri asked as his briefly amused tone fell flat at her backhanded remark. Was she trying to insult him?

“Precisely.” she said as though she believed she had just bestowed upon him the complement of the century. “I was thinking, in a way you’re kind of like a minor hero yourself so maybe we could spin it as something like a ‘Meet Sternbild’s Hidden Heroes!’ segment. Of course we’ll save all the big questions for our real heroes but maybe at some point we could get your perspective on what you think of the decor of the tower and what it’s like to be a judge.”

As he began to feel the backs of his eyes grow warm he made the quick decision to end the call there before he lost his composure. “Agnes, you always have incredible ideas and I wish you all the best with pursuing that. Thank you for the information, I'll think it over. I’ll be returning to my paperwork now but please don’t hesitate to contact me again when you are in need of further assistance.”

“Oh, you're doing paperwork? In that case, this is actually a great opportunity. Stay put and act natural, I’ll be there in just a minute with the supplies and the film crew.” Agnes made a point of hanging up quickly before he even got the chance to protest.

Just as she’d promised, Agnes and her posse were barging into his office and shoving cameras in his face before he’d even been able to sign off on the first document. She wasted no time in bounding right up to his desk, turning towards the camera.

“Would you look at that, Sternbild’s very own Judge Yuri Petrov, hard at work as usual!” She gracefully spun around and held the microphone out to him “So tell us Yuri, what are you working on currently?”

He pursed his lips, just barely masking his disapproval. He had never been one for interviews, especially not while presenting simply as Judge Petrov, so he figured it best just to blurt out a few simple answers and get it over with quickly. “Well you see, Wild Tiger has again destroyed more property in one week than a group of delinquents could in their entire lifetime." He motioned to the papers in front of him "As you can see, I have a lot of damage reports that I need to-.”

It was rather frightening how suddenly Agnes was able to snap out of her charming, professional mode. “Hey! Take your job seriously!” she shouted, slamming her hands against his desk. “You’re supposed to say ‘Heh heh, I’m sure you would love to know but that’s confidential.’ and wink at the camera or something like that.”

“You’re right, my apologies." Yuri said. He tucked a lock of his hair behind his ears, shuffled his papers, and started again. Sorry, I can’t tell you what I’m working on as doing so would violate the code outlined in article 371 B of the Sternbild judic-”

“Ugh, forget it, moving on. Ahem, soooo Mr. Petrov, why don’t you tell us a little bit about what led you to become a judge and why serving justice is so important to you.”

“Ah, well that one is simple.” he said, putting on the vaguest semblance of a friendly smile “I believe that justice is important.”

Agnes nodded her head, the microphone still pointed at him for a moment longer. That is, until the moment passed without him saying anything else. “I-is that all?”

“I’m not sure what else can really be said on the topic.” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Jeez, who hired this guy…” she muttered. “Well, can you at least tell me what you think of the new penholders?”

“Aren’t these from ten years ago?”

“Well they’re newer to you because you only started working here just within the past two years.”

“Mm, I see… but couldn’t the same have been said for the pen holders that were here before the renovation if they were still here now? Does being new to me really make them new?”

Agnes lowered the microphone and gave him a look that would make even Lunatic tremble in fear. “Alright, I had hoped we could avoid it but you’ve left me no choice but to resort to plan B.”

The words “plan B” didn’t leave the most pleasant feeling in Yuri’s gut and, for a moment, he almost considered interjecting and asking to restart the interview. However, Agnes already had her mind made up and was knocking his paperwork and carefully arranged pens aside to make room for a large box displaying the company logo. She rifled through the contents, producing a large cupcake bearing red and green candles in the shape of the number ten among other various party related items.

“Bring it in.” Agnes motioned her crew closer to get a better shot as she rounded the corner of his desk and placed a large, blue and green party hat on his head, pressing it down to try and make it sit smoothly atop his curly hair. “You like these colors, right?” she asked, as if the colors were what might be wrong with this.

“Well, yes but…” he started, but she silenced him with a simple wave of her hand.

“Alright, great. Here, put this in your mouth.” she said, shoving a party blowout, rather reminiscent of Sky High's suit, towards his lips “Try not to get any lipstick on it, we need to reuse this for next year.”

“May I ask why you are making me do this?” Yuri asked, his resolve wavering.

“I’ve decided we’re doing a magazine interview instead. I’ll write out all of your answers for you, we just need a few photos of you to accompany them. Now, pretend like you’re having fun!” she reached back into the box, grabbed a handful of confetti, and sprinkled the colored paper over his head. “Cain, go go go!” she instructed, hoping not to have to waste all of their confetti on just one shoot.

Yuri complied, albeit begrudgingly, but only because it seemed to be the only way to put an end to this save for burning the place down. He gave her the smile she requested, posed with the cake, and shuffled his papers around a few more times to make it look like he had been working.

“Alright, that’s a wrap.” Agnes said at last “This should be enough to work with." She said as she began to pick what confetti she could from Yuri’s hair and place it back into the box.

“Ms. Joubert, I must ask, will something like this really be helpful to our image?” Yuri sighs.

Agnes closes up the box and sets it on the floor beside his desk.“Well, it will be interesting, that’s for sure.” she answered vaguely, “Thanks for your time, I think I can use what I got. I saw you eyeing it so you can keep the cake as compensation, just have the other stuff back to me by this evening.” She had already turned to leave before another thought popped into her head “Oh, and Yuri?”

Yuri, rather reluctantly, looked up with a questioning look. He prayed it wasn't another weird question or dumb photo idea.

“Maybe try to be a bit more cheerful sometimes, with an attitude like that people are going to start thinking you hate heroes or something. Plus, you actually look sort of pleasant when you’re smiling and having fun, even if you're just faking.” she shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll have a copy of the issue on your desk when it comes out.” she said, waving her crew after her and closing the door behind them.

Yuri, now alone in his trashed office, exhaled a sigh of relief at her departure. “I suppose the public wouldn’t be too pleased if they thought their judge hated heroes.” he remarks to himself as his glowing fingertips make contact with the candle wicks and set them alight. Once his hand had cooled he brushed it across the surface of his desk and collected the remaining confetti, repeating Agnes’s words from their phone call earlier about how anything can be a reason to celebrate. He took the stack of papers and shoved it into the bottom drawer of his desk. In a swift movement he sat back and tossed the confetti into the air above his head in celebration of ,what he just decided, was going to be a well deserved and much needed day off. As the scraps of paper rained down on him he recalled her other words and smiled to himself.

#tiger and bunny #tiger & bunny #tigerbunny10 #yuri petrov #agnes joubert #this was a really quick stream of conscious thing so i hope its not too bad!

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

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Prompt Request

So, here’s the thing, dear reader. This thing kind of took on a life of its own.

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 4,558 Rating: M Prompt: “Hello! I’m glad to find another writer who writes for Jaskier. Can you please write a fic with Jaskier x female reader (perhaps one that is sweet and kind, but insecure about herself) that is both got fluff and angst with the prompts “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.” + “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.” + “I love you. You are what matters to me.” + “Can I kiss you?” + “Are you scared?” + "I can’t believe you’re carrying my child.” + “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” a/n: Reader and Jaskier are in an arranged marriage and end up falling in love. There are little breaks between parts to denote time passing. How much time? Who knows. But time! I hope that this is ok and that you like it and that you aren’t 96 by the time you finish reading it. For better or worse, here it is.

It was the happiest day of your life. That’s what they told you, anyway. That’s what you’d always hoped it would be. Everything about the moment was like something from a dream. You, standing in a simple white gown with a crown of buttercups on your head. The man standing in front of you was handsome, with sparkling blue eyes and rich, chestnut hair. He smiled at you and squeezed your hands, clasped before you, with tenderness. This was everything you wanted your wedding to be, if only you knew the groom.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Y/F/N and Julian Alfred Pankratz. May their union provide happiness and bounty for both of their houses,” the priest declared, intoning the words with solemnity suiting the business merger this wedding essentially was. The man named Julian smiled at you but you could see a tinge of nervousness in his eyes as well. It helped you feel less alone.

“The groom has requested to provide vows of his own writing. He may speak them now,” the priest said. You’re surprised to hear this, wondering what this stranger could have to say to you. He squeezed your hands tighter and though a crowd was gathered around you (including many weeping ladies sitting on the groom’s side of the chapel), he only had eyes for you.

“It is no secret that this wedding is… complicated. I have only known you for a short time. Indeed, I only laid eyes on you as you walked down the aisle. I cannot speak to your interests, your tastes, or even your favorite color. I do not pretend to possess the knowledge to make you happy but I can promise you this; I will treat you with respect and kindness and I will do my utmost to make the best of this for the both of us, if you will allow me to.”

If you had to be forced into a political marriage, you’re happy at least that you have ended up with someone kind.

“Y/N, repeat after me…” the priest begins but you stop him.

“Actually, I would also like to recite my own vows,” you say, surprising yourself. You look back at your almost-husband and take a deep breath.

“I have heard you are quite the wordsmith so I won’t spend too much time trying to impress you here but I wanted to say that I offer in turn respect and kindness and also a really good loaf of bread.”

He laughs and you feel a smile break across your face as well and you both stay focused on each other as the rest of the formalities are read. When the moment comes that the priest announces you man and wife, your new husband leans forward and you can feel your heart in your throat.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, a whisper’s breadth from your lips.

“I mean, that’s what we do now isn’t it?” you ask, feeling awkward under the watchful eye of the crowd around you.

“Not necessarily. Not unless you say so,” he says firmly. You know that he means it and that you don’t need a kiss to complete the arrangement, at this point you have both held up your sides of the bargain and your families are wealthier with new trades.

“Yes,” you say decisively. He smiles and pulls you in closer and his mouth is soft and tender on yours. It’s a sweet kiss, but not chaste, his teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip as you pull apart, giving you a wink as he does.

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“My name is Jaskier, by the way. Well, it is Julian Alfred Pankratz but everyone calls me Jaskier. Everyone but my family but fuck ‘em.”

The words slip out with a slight slur, the result of the wine you’ve both been drinking. You’d gone to the after-wedding feast for appearance’s sake but he’d snuck you both out with a plate of cheese and meats and a bottle of wine to escape the pomp and circumstance. You were grateful for the opportunity to get to know your husband. Crowds always made you nervous anyway. Jaskier had pulled off the stifling doublet and undone the buttons on his undershirt in a way that you thought should shock you until you remembered that you were married now. At some point you had placed the flower crown on Jaskier’s head and he left it on, looking like some sort of fae being that was put on this earth to save or damn you and you weren’t sure if you cared which it was.

“I’m not feeling very charitable towards my family either,” you say in response to his outburst, the closest you’ve come to openly expressing how you felt about being forced into a marriage to a stranger.

“Oh come on you can do better than that,” Jaskier goads.

“No I mean, I understand where they’re coming from. I’m their only daughter and one does have to consider the future…”

“Come on darling let’s not start this false marriage with more lies. I recognize that I’m a hell of a catch to get but surely somewhere deep inside of you there is some anger over this. You could have married anyone you pleased but you get saddled with a stranger. I could have been 85 years old or had a humpback or, or, or been Valdo Marx for god’s sakes!” Jaskier exclaims. His fervent anger makes you laugh but also makes you bold.

“It was….”

“Yes?” Jaskier says encouragingly, gesturing with the empty goblet in his hand.

“Well I must admit…”

“Go on,” he urges.

“It was damned disgusting,” you finally blurt out, half-shocked at your own temerity.

“Yes! More! Keep going!” Jaskier insists, rising unsteadily to his feet to cheer you on with more gusto.

“For all of my life leading up this I have done everything they’ve asked. I’ve been an excellent pupil, I’ve attended every stupid event even though I couldn’t have cared less, I have sacrificed and tried to be a good daughter and carried this stupid legacy and I don’t know what I expected but… but they could have at least talked to me! They could have asked me how I felt, they could have pretended to give a shit. They could have tried to care, I deserved that at least, didn’t I?” your anger turns to bitter sadness and Jaskier stops pumping his fists when he sees your shoulders start to shake with stifled sobs.

“Oh no, oh bollocks, no please don’t, hey,” he crouches next to you and pulls you into a hug you’re too upset to resist. His arms are strong and he offers quiet, comforting words in your ear as you cry into his chest, your face pressing up against the soft linen of his shirt and the patch of dark hair beneath.

“Shhh, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you. I know we didn’t choose this but you’re not in this alone, I promise,” he murmurs the words into the top of your head as one hand rubs soothing circles into your back. He holds you long after the tears dry and you fall asleep curled around each other.

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Your life falls into a sort of rhythm. He introduces you to Geralt who immediately rejects adding you to their adventures until Jaskier makes him try your bread. You hadn’t been lying about the promise, having honed your craft through years of baking to cope with the feelings you were forced to repress. He begrudgingly acquiesced to you joining them on very specific journeys for very specific lengths of time but despite himself you grow on him. You and Jaskier also grow to know each other better. Before long he knows that your favorite color is (Y/F/C) and you learn more of his life as a bard. At first you were nervous about going to the inns with him as he performed, especially when he would flirt and sing directly to you, but he always seemed to sense when you were too uncomfortable and would turn his attention back on the rest of the crowd. In time that began to bother you as well but you didn’t examine those feelings, trying hard to enjoy the relative peace you had.

At first you didn’t mind when Jaskier would go on his long journeys and you even grew to enjoy your solitude in the little house your parents had given the two of you as a wedding present. It was easily the most modest of your properties, but you didn’t care, you reveled in the ability to make a space your own. As time went on, the longer Jaskier was away you grew to wish there were more signs of him around. He didn’t possess much, bringing with him only clothes and the lute he took with him on his journeys. When he came back he would tell you all about his journeys and perform his new songs for you and you would provide him with a sampling of what you’ve done with your baking and pottery and the other things you did to fill your time. He was usually back after a few weeks but one night Geralt came with word that he would be leaving for much longer, at least a month, and while the words weren’t directly spoken you could tell that there was no guarantee they would both be coming back.

“Are you scared?” you asked Jaskier after Geralt had left ostensibly to tend to Roach but truly to give them space to talk.

“A little,” he confessed, “But I must go, you understand.”

You bite your lip and he saw you warring with some emotion he couldn’t place.

“Y/N?” he asked, “Come on, talk to me.”

“It’s just… what if you don’t come back?” you ask.

“Don’t let Geralt scare you, he always makes things sound worse than they truly are. I will be back. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it,” he says.

“But what if you can’t?” you insist.

“Well… then everything I own is passed to you and you could be your own woman again. I mean, we don’t really prevent each other from living our lives but you could find someone to fall in love with and have children and whatever else people do,” he doesn’t look at you as he says this and you’re quick to wipe away the tears that come up as he speaks. He glances back up at you and brushes the last trace of wetness from your cheeks.

“Don’t be scared,” he insists, “I’m right here.”

He pulls you in for a hug and holds you, much as he did your wedding night, and you squeeze back as hard as you can as though you can keep him chained to you through the embrace. You look up to say something else and your lips brush by accident, the first they’ve touched since the kiss on the altar. He wordlessly pulls you in again and deepens the kiss, running a hand through your hair as he tentatively brushes tongue against your lips. You part them in response and shift in his arms til you’re straddling him, arms wrapping back around his neck. His hands trace the contours of your body through the clothes and settle on your hips. You arch against him and feel him beneath you, hard and wanting. The pressure of your body pressing against him pulls a moan from his lips and the sound seems to break through the moment, pulling him back to earth. He reluctantly pulls back from the kiss and for a moment you sit there, panting and uncertain.

“You have a long journey tomorrow,” you whisper when the silence grows too long, “I should let you rest.” “Y/N…” he begins but you slide off of him and hurry to the kitchen, eager to find a way to rid yourself of the energy and emotions that have gotten away with you. Jaskier thinks about following, wants nothing more than to finish what you’d both started, but he leaves tomorrow, and you were right. He may not come back. And he could never forgive himself if he got you with child and then died to leave you to care for it alone.

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75 loaves of bread, 19 dozen cookies, and 14 pies later, Jaskier comes back home.

You’re sitting by the hearth reading when you think you hear it, that familiar strumming of a lute in the distance. Then you hear an unmistakable voice and you jolt to your feet, running to the door. You can see him walking, still a block away and you keep running. When he sees you he stops singing and places the lute on his back. By the time he’s got his strapped on you’ve tackled him in a hug that nearly knocks him off of his feet and he lifts you slightly off the ground, spinning you in a little circle as he does.

“You’re home,” you say.

“I’m home,” he echoes, one hand brushing the side of your face and cupping your chin, “And I have so much to tell you.”

You hold hands as you walk back to the house and he begins to tell you about the journeys he and Geralt have been on. You’re only half paying attention as he speaks, no story of dragons or mythical artifacts capable of competing with the sight of him finally in front of you again, the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hand in yours. Over bread he tells you about his dilemma over writing a series of songs or one very epic song to capture the tale. By the time night has fallen you’re both seated in front of the fire, your head on his shoulder. You notice his fingers twitching and you can tell there’s something left unsaid.

“Jaskier?”

“Hmm?”

“What is it?”

“What is what?” he asks, the innocence in his voice forced. You sit up and level a look at him.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend nothing’s wrong. We’ve never lied to each other, don’t start now,” you say. He sighs and you feel your heart pounding in your chest as you think about what he may be about to say. He’s in love with someone? He’s cursed and dying? He isn’t really here and this is just a dream and soon you will wake up alone in your bed, the right side cold and empty?

“It’s foolish really, it’s nothing to be worried about,” he says.

“Then tell me what it is,” you urge, trying to soften the demand with a smile.

“Being out there with Geralt for so long… well, it made me realize some things,” he says. Your heart stops and you fight the urge to tell him to stop, to let you live in the fantasy you hadn’t realized you’d fallen into where somehow he did fall in love with you and this marriage that started as a contract can become more.

“I thought a lot about my time here in this house. With you. I thought about the little flecks of paint on your fingers and the smudges of flour in your cheeks. I thought about that little snorting sound you make in your sleep…”

Your face burns bright red as he lists your faults. Countesses never snorted; you were almost certain.

“I thought about the way it feels when you listen to my stories, truly listen to them. Not because you’re paying me for them or because I’m forcing them on you. The way you just… listen to me. I have written so many songs about it but I think, maybe, I’ve never felt it like this before,” he takes a deep breath and turns to face you, the soft, blue eyes staring into yours intently as he speaks again, “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in and when they have you’re still not sure how to feel. Making someone feel loved doesn’t mean they love you back. You had learned that the hard way from your parents to your sparse attempts at romance in the past. He looks at you anxiously, waiting to see what you will say but the words fail you like a curse striking you mute.

“Ah,” he says after a while, turning back to face the fire.

“No, Jaskier,” you begin but he stands and takes a deep breath, shaking his head and forcing on a smile. It’s a performance you’ve seen many times before and the first time he’s ever turned it on you.

“Please, Y/N, it’s probably for the best,” he says.

“No but you don’t understand,” you continue.

“Heartbreak is good for the songs, really. And we never made any promises to each other. Not any real ones at least. Not ones that matter.”

The words break your heart and anger you at the same time. You’ve spent a lifetime letting people tell you how you feel or what is best but not Jaskier. Never him.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz shut up and listen,” you snap, standing to meet him eye to eye. He’s visibly taken aback, eyes going wide in shock, but he stays quiet.

“Before you go too deeply into a pity party, I would like the opportunity to actually speak for myself. How dare you say those promises didn’t matter? When from the very start we have spoken honestly and fairly to each other? Sure, the marriage wasn’t sincere, but the vows were. Respect and kindness and, and, and bread! And more than that, more than anything we could have promised each other that day, love. I love you. You are what matters to me. I’m sorry if that ruins your career plans but you’ll just have to adapt!”

The pair of you stand in stunned silence as your words resonate and then you are pulled into his arms as his lips hungrily seek yours. You begin tearing at each other’s clothes, a trail of fabric leading to the bedroom. Once inside his gestures slow a little and when you impatiently rip at the buttons on your dress he halts your hands with his and his nimble fingers slip through them with ease, his eyes hungrily staring into yours as he works. He’s shirtless now and you let your gaze fall to take in the lean, corded muscles in his shoulders and arms, the toned definition of his body. You run your hands along the veins in his neck, down to the definition of his shoulder blades, across the collar bones, down into the hair on his chest which is soft and coarse all at once to the touch. The dress falls away and you feel the cold air of the room hit your exposed skin, shocking you to the fact of your nakedness and making you lose whatever courage you had summoned in your anger and passion. He sees your eyes fall away and the blush rise in your cheeks and he gently lifts your chin back up to meet his eyes.

“What is it, love?” he asks, the word moments before unspoken now falling casually and naturally from his lips.

“I’ve never… I don’t share your… experience,” you admit.

“Well I hardly find that shocking. I am very, very experienced,” he says with a roguish wink. You laugh nervously and he runs a hand along your arm, barely grazing your breasts which are taut and eager for his touch.

“How about this time I take the lead. If I do something that you don’t like, you tell me and it stops immediately,” he says.

“What if you’re enjoying it?” you ask.

“I will never enjoy something if you’re not enjoying it too. Please tell me. And next time, if, and gods I pray and hope there will be a next time if I don’t utterly cock this up, you can take charge. Does that sound good?” he asks. You nod but he shakes his head, leaning down to give you a long, lingering kiss.

“I need to hear you say the words,” he murmurs against your chin.

“That sounds good,” you answer. He smiles at you and pulls you in for another kiss, his hands bolder in his exploration, brushing against your breasts before lowering his mouth to kiss and caress them with his tongue. You’re quiet at first, not intentionally but because the sensations are new and you struggle to breath through them. You see him looking up at you, watching your face as you react, taking his cues from your body. A hand reaches lower and you part your legs for him. He finds you wet and makes a satisfied, throaty sound as he brushes a finger lightly against the folds. You gasp and he looks back up for confirmation.

“Yes, do that again,” you say. He presses in further, two fingers roaming the length of you and circling the top. You grip his hair and he continues the same rhythm.

“Do you like this?” he asks, not because he isn’t sure but because he loves to hear you try to speak when he has you like this, wet and needy and at his mercy.

“Y-yes,” you reply. “Fuck.”

“Such dirty language, Y/N, am I a bad influence?” he teases as he slides one finger gently inside of you. You can’t respond, struggling between your need to breathe and the effect his hands have on you.

“You feel ready for me, Y/N. Do you want more?” he asks.

“I want everything,” you say breathlessly. He stands, pulling his hands away despite your whine of protest and he gently leans you back over the bed. He pulls off the last of his clothing until he is just as naked and you can see the proof of his arousal.

“Is it… odd to think a penis is beautiful?” you wonder aloud. He laughs and shakes his head.

“Oh god I love you,” he says, eyes shining brightly as he stares at you in wonder.

“Prove it,” you say, a playful challenge. His eyes darken and he climbs on top of you and you can feel the delicious weight of him, the lean, strong body and the weight of his desire pressed up against your thigh.

“You may have heard that this hurts but I’m going to tell you a secret; it shouldn’t. If it starts to hurt, tell me. I want every part of this to be as exquisite for you as it possibly can be,” he whispers, warm breath tickling your ear. You nod in agreement and then, when he doesn’t move, you agree out loud. He shifts his weight around and you can feel the tip of him brushing against your entrance gently. He slides it through in increments, halting when he feels resistance until he feels you relax beneath him once more. His kisses are softer than before but deeper as well. Before long he is fully sheathed inside of you. He rests his forehead against yours, holding perfectly still to let you adjust to the feeling until you tentatively shift your hips beneath him eliciting a soft moan. He follows your lead, gently rocking himself in and out of you, his movements slow and thorough and forcing soft gasps of pleasure from your lips. You urge him to go faster and he matches your motions, angling with his cock the way he did with his fingers, following the sounds you make and the look on your face until he finds exactly where you need him. You come apart underneath him and the feeling of your release spurs his own, buried deep inside of you where he stays until you both have caught your breath.

“All in all,” he says once he’s curled up by your side, “Marriage isn’t that bad.”

The sound of your laughter lulls him to sleep.

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Jaskier stays around for a while after this but before too much time has passed Geralt returns with word of a nearby job. He is wary about bringing you, insistently so in a way that almost hurts your feelings, but he finally relents. He asks you to ride Roach, an action that drives Jaskier nearly apoplectic and the trip to the neighboring town is spent with protests about injustice and the bonds of friendship that are meant to rise beyond that of romance. The job is quick and Jaskier is able to perform one in the series of songs about his prior adventures at the inn while you and Geralt eat.

“Does he know?” Geralt asks, yellow eyes seeking yours.

“Does he know what?” you ask.

“Hmm,” is all he says in answer before looking back down at his meal.

“What?” you insist.

“It might not be my place to say,” he says.

“Well you’ve already said this much you might as well keep going,” you say. You’ve grown much more assertive since marrying Jaskier and Geralt can’t help me pleased by it, even if it is inconvenient for him at this moment.

“You’re with child,” he says bluntly, popping a piece of bread in his mouth as he does. You stare at him blankly.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” Jaskier asks, suddenly reappearing behind his friend and reaching for your ale to take a drink between songs.

“I…” you look to Geralt for help but he gives you a look that tells you you’re on your own. Coward.

“I’ll tell you after your set,” you say.

“Is something wrong?” Jaskier asks, worry creasing his brow. “Y/N, tell me.”

“Ok. Well. And this might be wrong because frankly I don’t know how he would know, though it would make sense…” you trail off as you try to remember if your courses were due yet. Jaskier watches you anxiously and you know you have to put him out of his misery.

“He says that I’m… pregnant,” you say. You watch Jaskier’s face carefully and you can see the moment what you’ve said resonates. His eyes light up and he gives a little incredulous laugh.

“You are? With me?”

You scoff.

“No, Jaskier, with a bloody goat. Yes with you,” you say. He leans over the table to kiss you, knocking over the ale and squashing Geralt’s meal with his knee but the witcher doesn’t say anything and simply stands and walks away to leave you your moment. Jaskier cradles your face in his hands and happy tears run down his face.

"I can’t believe you’re carrying my child,” he says, his voice awed and filled with love.

“Well you’ve got a few months to come around to it,” you joke.

“I will be the best father and I will love this child with every ounce of my being. I will write them a litany of songs that would make the angels weep with the love I hold for them and their mother,” you smile at the dramatics that come of Jaskier’s emotions and press your foreheads together.

“I’m glad this will be good for business,” you tease.

“This is the best thing. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says. And for once, without reservation or fear, you believe him.

#long post #jaskier x reader #prompt request #anonymous #jaskier imagines #fanfic #smut

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peantutbutter · 4 years

Text

validated parking (fahc/criminal masterminds fic)

summary: You're a Los Santos woman just doing your best to get by.Your day takes a turn for the bizarre when your car gets rear ended by the Vagabond in the county coroner's office parking lot.

word count: 1.5k

notes: 2nd person pov. set during one of the failed attempts during the doomsday heist crimmies part trash.

[ao3 link]

Los Santos is a bitch of a city. It’s crowded, it’s dirty, it’s violent. It’s home. And for all the crime and misery lingering like a storm cloud over the lives of everyone who wasn’t rich or famous, there’s nowhere else you’d rather live. For better or worse, this is your town, and no one can tell you otherwise. That’s the Los Santos way.

You took every opportunity you could while doing your best to avoid the city’s seedy underbelly. It wasn’t that you morally opposed to petty crime — anyone who had anything worth stealing almost certainly fucked someone else over in order to get it — but rather, you just didn’t want to run the risk of getting caught. Nothing destroyed a resume, or college application like being arrested. Or killed. So, you put your nose to the grindstone until it bled and then you kept grinding through the shitty inner city public school system until you were one of the lucky ones who graduated.

You went to college (Go USALS!), graduated with crippling debt and a medical degree, and managed to snag a job working for the Los Santos county coroner’s office. Life still sucks, but you have a job, stable income, an apartment you share with your significant other, and most importantly, your own car.

It’s a shitty little thing. You got the ten-year-old model for cheap, and it came with 150,000 miles on it, but despite the dings in the side and scuffed paint, it’s yours, and yours alone. You affectionately name it Greg and take care of him to the best of your ability. Aside some issues with the coolant, he’s served you well. You love that car more than you can say, and you joke that if anyone stole it, that would be the thing to push you over the edge. Good thing Greg is so dumpy looking, no one would want to steal him.

It’s a typical Monday. You wake up at 7:30, eat breakfast, brush your teeth, take a quick shower before hopping in your car and heading to work. The drive itself is slow and grueling. Accidents on the freeway cause backups, and you sip your coffee as you wait. Traffic inches along at a snail's pace, but by the time the morning radio newscast is finished, you’re back to driving without interruption.

You manage to make it just in time, pulling into your usual space, the middle spot on the front left side of the building. You’ve barely climbed out and locked it when an ambulance screeches into the parking lot. It turns sharply, coming so close you stumble back in shock. You watch in wide-mouthed horror as it rear ends Greg so hard the windows shatter.

The part of your brain that reacts to things like a normal person fights with the part of your brain that was born and raised in Los Santos. Do you run away and get help, or do you run towards the driver and give them a piece of your fucking mind? The Los Santos in you almost wins, but when you look up, lips curled in a snarl to start tearing into the driver, you have a very fast change of heart.

You don’t know what he thinks he’s doing, but the paramedic uniform isn’t fooling anyone. Not when the face paint was still on. For some goddamned reason, the Vagabond, of Fake AH Crew infamy, is sitting behind the wheel of the ambulance looking just as startled as you. You both stare at each other with wide eyes, blinking dumbly in shock. Fuck, if the Vagabond is here, then you need to be literally anywhere else.

You turn on your heel and run, body working on its own accord. The scream you unleash isn’t something you’re proud of, but you just looked the Vagabond square in the eye. He’s killed people for less. If you make it through this, then you’re gonna have a hell of a story.

Heart racing, you duck and hide behind a tree near the building, hoping he’s too busy trying to adjust his parking to pay attention to where you went. Your stomach knots horribly, aching painfully with just coffee to fill it. With trembling hands, you pull out your phone. Not to call the police, but rather to record the whole thing. No one is going to believe you without proof, and you don’t trust the LSPD to find their own asses. The Fakes have killed and evaded the cops for as long as you remember.

You shift behind the trunk, trying to get a decent shot at the parking lot without being seen.

What happens next is entirely baffling.

A purple and orange car pulls into the entrance, and Rimmy Tim (also in paramedic uniform) runs out and joins the Vagabond in the ambulance. He’s in there for only a brief second before both of them emerge. They start racing towards the entrance to the coroner’s office and you have to clap your free hand over your mouth to stifle a gasp. What the hell do they want in there?

But before they reach the doors, they both double back towards the ambulance. You assume they’d forgotten something (guns or knives or some other weapons, probably), and were returning to get them, but Rimmy Tim climbs back in the passenger side. Maybe they’ve been compromised? Maybe they got a sudden call from the Kingpin? You have no fucking clue.

You’re expecting the Vagabond to enter the cab of the ambulance, but instead he wrenches open the passenger door of your car. You have no idea how he managed to rip through the lock like nothing, but he slides in and you almost drop your phone. The Los Santos in you almost wins again at that. Were you not so stupefied by the transpiring events, you very well might have said “fuck it” to your survival instincts in favor of trying to beat the shit out of the Vagabond for stealing your car.

You hear the distinct whooping of sirens approaching. Someone must have called the cops. The suspicious behavior, the face paint, one of the many cars owned by Rimmy Tim at the scene, it doesn’t take a genius to deduce something criminal is afoot.

The Vagabond slides over and exits through the other side of your car and you have no fucking idea why he did that. He dashes around the front of your car and pulls a goddamn gun out of nowhere. The handful of people still in the parking lot let out terrified shrieks at the sight, and you’re equally frightened that he’s going to shoot up your car.

Mercifully, he doesn’t. He runs back to the ambulance and disappears into the cab. It begins to reverse out of the parking spot, and it pulls out of the parking lot, flipping on the sirens just in time to speed away from the arriving cops. You carefully emerge from behind the tree, watching the flashing lights disappear down the road. Someone at the entrance runs up to one of the squad cars and points down the way they went. You make out the faint crackling of a radio, and the squad cars at the tail end of the procession peel off in pursuit.

You begrudgingly give your statement, more concerned about dealing with the damages done to your car. That’s really an expense you don’t need right now. You talk to the tow truckers who come to take away Rimmy Tim’s car to see if they can take your car into a mechanic as well.

By the time you finish talking with the police you’re over an hour late and desperately need a beer, or a cigarette, or something to calm down. You go through the motions of your job for the rest of the morning, vacant look in your eye as you keep replaying the events over and over.

You call your partner just before lunch and by God they’re the light of your life. They take their lunch hour to drive over and eat with you.

The two of you are sitting on the steps of the building with your lunches in your laps. You stare blankly at the empty spaces where your car and the Vagabond’s stolen ambulance had been just a few hours earlier as you stab absently at your salad. “So,” your partner says after a few minutes of chewing in silence. “What the hell happened, exactly?”

Their voice brings you back to the present, and it takes you a moment to process the question. You lick your lips, trying to figure out the best way to explain what happened. “So you know the Vagabond?”

Their eyes go wide and they lean forward. “Yeah,” they say carefully, not entirely sure where this is going.

You actually have to bite back a laugh as you realize just how ridiculous the words coming out of your mouth really are. “I think he almost accidentally stole my car?”

#fahc #fake ah crew #fahc fic #crimmies #criminal masterminds #this is so fucking dumb but it amused me so it exists #rexie writes #my fic

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elenatria · 5 years

Note

What are your thoughts on chernobyl episode 3 ?

Bestest ep ever.

This episode starts with silent looks.

It’s so heart-warming to see Boris’ boyish smile of pride and relief as he claps and waves, like a kid watching national heroes parade right in front of him. He’d be waving a flag if he could.

Of course Valery has no time for smiles because he knows better, he knows this isn’t over. However they do exchange a glance, starting to appreciate what they’re both doing for the cause, starting to realize the power of their collaboration.

In the next scene they’re almost demolishing what they just built, the trust and respect. Valery lashes out at Boris about the evacuation zone. Boris gets defensive because he just won’t have his newly found partner blaming him. This is getting too personal.

And oh, here it comes, the revealing “Don’t use my name” moment of this episode but in reverse.

Boris is not just offended by Valery calling his peers apparatchiks.

He’s deeply wounded. And he delivers his next line in the darkest, huskiest tone imaginable.

Because hey, Valery could be talking about him for all he knows. So yeah, watch your tongue because I’m one of the people you loathe and I DON’T want to be one of the people you loathe, I’m not one of them, do you understand?

Of course he’s quick to hide his hurt behind a wall of authoritativeness.

But Valery knows the meaning behind Boris’ words. He stops and stares and blinks and drops his head not because he’s embarrassed for being rebuked but because he got to hurt Boris’ feelings again. He wants to learn not to hurt him anymore, and fails.

Pikalov then comes to bring some good news about the reduction of iodine 131 and Boris grabs this opportunity (the first in a series of attempts to cheer up Valery) to help the scientist see the glass as half full, not half empty. He still needs Valery’s approval and to tell him he’s doing things right.

Valery turns to face him because he really really wants to be on good terms with him and Boris looks away casually as if to say “We’re good, no harm done.” Or maybe he can’t face him just yet.

Next scene, Valery is being his usual blunt self to Gorbachev himself. This Nerd is getting more and more dangerous to himself, not to mention an embarrassment to Boris.

Naturally Gorbachev, offended by Valery’s aggressive tone, hangs up.

And then we have Boris asking to do something as intimate as taking a walk with him. Is that… the equivalent of a first date?… That’s… like… fanfic material right there.

And then… Valery blurts out the most common excuse in the book. Wait, “common”? Yeah it’s common but the way he utters it he sounds like Boris’ girlfriend “having a headache”, y’know. “Not tonight, love, it’s late and I’m tired.”

But see, Boris Shcherbina is Boris Shcherbina and he won’t take no for an answer. I don’t think he ever took no for an answer tbh.

Valery breathes out a sexy resigned exhale and stares back because yeah Boris is being his usual self with that hoarse authoritative tone, however this time they’re alone and Valery is probably having a massive boner right now, being ordered around. Ordered to have a walk. Anything else you want to order me, Boris?

Next they’re seen walking and Valery is starting to learn how he should act around people. Of course he’s resisting. “Yes I know I embarrassed you in front of Gorbachev but here, have my non-apology instead, it’s better than nothing, yes?” Yeah, Valery, like you care how Boris feels. Or do you?

Then Boris asks him about the effects of radiation. The description gets more and more gruesome but Boris is a big boy, he can take it. And he wants to learn. From Valery.

Now this “Continue” here is like a total plot bunny for any bottom!Boris smut fic because yeah, imagine Valery on top of him, hesitant, not sure if he should enter him or not but Boris, like the power bottom that he is, is ready for anything and urges him on. Because he wouldn’t let anyone top him but he would make an exception for Valery. Because who doesn’t want to let go once in a while and be fucked by a brilliant scientist, amirite?

Ok. Mind. Out of the gutter. NOW.

A-hem. Sorry for that, that was my evil smut-writing twin. Moving on.

And this is when things get even more intimate, this is every fangirl’s (or fanboy’s) dream. After listening to the horrible effects of radiation on a human body Boris wants to know how “lucky” he is compared to those doomed men. How lucky THEY are, and how much time they have on this planet.

Yeah, it sure is a friendly “we’re in this together” moment but there’s something more, right? The way Boris delivers that line is like they’re an item, they’re “us” now. He’s not alone. And Boris is not the only person Boris cares about.

Valery takes a step back, pauses and squints as if he’s thinking “not sure if Boris is just worried about his hide or if he’s genuinely concerned about me, about us, and… is that a glimpse of hope and lust in his husky tone?”

AND THEN WE GET THE BESTEST (ok one of two bestest) VALORIS MOMENT OF THE EPISODE.

That’s Boris seeing the glass half full once more, encouraging Valery, and practically telling him “You know what, I’m glad I’m not alone in this and it could have been worse and I’m glad we get to live a little longer and I’m glad YOU get to live a little longer. With me.” And I mean, look at his face when he says those words and LISTEN TO HIS VOICE as he gradually reduces it to a tender whisper saying “Valery…” Is that the first time he calls Valery by his first name? I think it is. And it’s a payoff of the first time Valery called him “Boris”. Now Boris is finally apologizing for his tone in the helicopter and acknowledging the fact that using their first names gives him life.

Then we have the second time Boris asks about Valery’s feelings, the second “what?” scene.

Ooooh first names again. The boys are so getting used to each other and Valery is acting like an insecure lover, asking for support.

Next scene, the second best Valoris scene of the episode.

Boris staggers into Valery’s office like he’s had one cup of Vodka too many with the guys and obviously Valery didn’t want to join them because work, because Apocalypse, because Armageddon. So Boris will bring the party to him whether he likes it or not.

THEN WE GET THE SECOND GREATEST VALORIS MOMENT OF THIS EPISODE.

Boris calls Valery by his nickname (are we on a nickname basis now??). And to my uneducated western ears that still sounded a bit too intimate. If google is correct Valera is pronounced Va-LYE-ra or something but you get my drift.

What’s next, Valery calling him Borja or something?

Valery begrudgingly shakes his head in approval but basically ignores him.

Look at Boris being frustrated and hurt once more by Valery’s coldness.

But nooooo Boris won’t have anyone ignoring him, especially not Valery. Not when HE is happy. So Valery should be happy too. So he makes him drink. He demands it.

And to me btw that glass being dragged between Valery’s hands is the equivalent of Boris dragging himself between Valery’s knees and grabbing his face for a kiss. You can’t ignore me now, can you?

Boris tries to cheer him up and uses the worst words he can.

The double (and fateful) meaning of that phrase doesn’t get lost on either of them.

And oooooh the naked miners’ scene. Look at their shocked faces lol.

Valery witnesses Boris not acting all-knowing all-powerful in front of his inferiors for the first time. That’s progress. And he feels bad for him.

Later on, upon hearing the news of Ulana’s arrest Valery appeals to Boris as if asking his boyfriend for help. First name basis always.

Yes, Boris, Valery is a demanding boyfriend.

And oh, Boris won’t have his boyfriend embarrass him in front of the committee.

When Valery storms out of the room to address the chief of the KGB in his usual blunt manner Boris is scared shitless. “I didn’t bring you here to have you sent out to some gulag because you’re a STUPID, unceremonious and reckless nerd.”

And finally, one of the funniest yet tender moments of the episode. Valery is looking at Boris for approval. He knows he almost got himself arrested but still Boris’ opinion counts more than anything.

And that’s Boris telling him “you scared me shitless, you idiot, did you know they could kill you for that? Don’t EVER do this to me again.”

#boris shcherbina #valery legasov #chernobyl #hbo #jared harris #stellan skarsgard #valoris #episode 3

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tragiceyes · 5 years

Text

Another Jaydick headcanon

...because I’m useless as a fic writer at the moment. But I still have so many thoughts.

This one is about i s s u e s.

Of course Jason and Dick both have major i s s u e s. One doesn’t exactly become a crime fighting vigilante without a hefty serving of i s s u e s.

But just how do these issues manifest in their relationship?

Nobody asked, but I’m here to talk about it anyway!

Dick’s inferiority complex. Every Robin has an inferiority complex to some extent. Dick’s afraid of not being good enough in Bruce’s eyes. Jason’s insecure about never measuring up to Dick’s example. Tim’s role is constantly haunted by ghost of his predecessor. Damian thinks he won’t be loved by his father unless he's the perfect Robin. But let’s talk about Dick’s inferiority complex, specifically. Everyone thinks Dick is perfect. He seems infallible from the outside. The Titans depend on his leadership, and his friends (specifically talking about Roy and Wally here) constantly describe him as someone who never makes mistakes. This, understandably, puts a heck of a lot of pressure on Dick. Especially considering his role leading a team of superheroes as a young boy with no superpowers. Dick has to go above and beyond to prove his place, because his peers have extraordinary abilities.

This, of course, means that Dick has probably developed pretty severe anxiety by the time he’s an adult. There’s always been a lot of pressure to perform in Dick’s life, but the addition of his guardian’s impossible standards means that Dick is constantly trying to achieve the impossible. And when he inevitably fails (because nobody’s perfect) he’s pretty hard on himself. He isolates himself. He suffers in silence.

Dick needs more than steady, supportive love, he needs reassurance. He needs to be told that he’s loved and cherished, even and especially when he’s messed up. Unfortunately for him, the person he needs that from is

Emotionally unavailable Jason Todd. And who can blame the guy? His parents were too busy fighting and using drugs to notice him much. When he loses them he transitions to constantly being denied affection and attention from Bruce. When he tries to meet and bond with his birth mother, she sells him out to the Joker and gets him beaten to death. Then when comes back, there’s a new Robin, and as far as he’s concerned nobody gave a single fuck he died! You really have to feel for Jason here. Perhaps things would have been different if Jason had been resurrected before Tim joined the ranks of sidekick-dom. But poor Jason just sees Batman and Nightwing (and even Alfred) just going about their business. It’s like nobody even knew he was gone. And it stung to see the affection Nightwing feels for the new Robin, when Jason had tried so hard to get to know him and been met with icy indifference.

Jason was seen as a “bad kid” for acting out, as all children do when they’re suffering. But Jason never gets a chance to outgrow these habits, and he’s never offered the love and reassurance he needs to realize that he doesn’t have to misbehave to get attention. So, as an adult, he’s still liable to “act out.” Because to him, negative attention is just as worthwhile as positive attention. And he wants to punish them. He wants to punish his family (especially Bruce) for rejecting him.

Jason’s just a kid saying “I hate you!” Poor bby.

Okay, so back to the Jaydick angle.

His prickly nature hides the truth, which is that Jason craves love and acceptance more than almost anybody, but he can’t let himself be vulnerable because he doesn’t want to be hurt again. Dick’s affection is like a drug to him. Once he’s had it, he needs it, and he hates himself for needing it so much.

And he can’t tell Dick that he appreciates it, because Jason remembers how it felt to be spurned by Dick, and he isn’t going to give Dick the opportunity to do it again.

So what happens? Dick loves Jason. He hugs Jason, kisses Jason, cuddles Jason, and tells Jason how much he cherishes him. And Jason responds with...

Nothing. He begrudgingly accepts the affection he secretly craves, but offers none in return. He doesn’t randomly hug Dick, or kiss him unexpectedly, or cuddle up to him when they wake up in the mornings. He initiates plenty of sex because of course he does, but withholds all other forms of intimacy.

This hurts Dick deeply, because he needs that reassurance that he’s loved. So Dick feels neglected by Jason, but Jason won’t let himself get (visibly) attached because he can’t stand the thought of Dick leaving him. He can’t tell Dick how much he loves him, because nobody ever loves him back enough wait now I’m crying send help. So he proceeds to shoot himself in the foot by distancing himself from Dick because he doesn’t want Dick to know just how much he needs him.

So everyone loses. Of course they break up.

Dick breaks up with Jason, because Jason’s just not that into him.

Jason is devastated, but can’t let it show.

Until one night when they run into each other on a rooftop and ugly words are exchanged because Jason has so much anger and can’t control himself and Dick is raring for a fight because how dare Jason treat him so poorly he deserves better and they start to wrestle on the rooftop and Jason punches Dick soooo much harder than he needs to and Dick can’t believe he thought this guy cared about him and just yells “What the hell is wrong with you, Jason?!” and Jason just screams, “YOU ARE WHAT’S WRONG. I LOVE YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Omg guys Jason expressed himself and now they’re making out and rolling around on the rooftop.

Ok I’m done.

For now.

#jaydick #my headcanons

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haveyouseenmymind · 6 years

Text

Absolutely in Love

Guess who’s a filthy little liar? Yep, it’s me.

This is the sequel to Not in Love that I absolutely didn’t want to write. But when your brain slaps you over the head with an idea and demands you to drop everything, well, what choice do you have, but to follow orders? It’s still a bit heartbreaking and bittersweet, so I’m not too mad about it. ;)

Also, if you haven’t read Not in Love before, I recommand it, cause this will probably make more sense.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Pairing: McKirk

Rating: Gen

Warnings: drunkenness

Words: 1641

When Bones hauls his drunken ass back home, Jim spills his secret. How will Bones react?

The night does not end exactly as Jim has planned for it. Well, it partly does. The pining and getting hammered? That is totally what he originally had been aiming for. But the rest is completely out of his control.

Bones finding and joining him with his own beer in his booth, while Jim is busy moping about being stupidly in love with said man, is one of those things that just happen without him being asked.

Not that he’s complaining. It’s definitely nice having someone help you hauling your drunken ass back home, even though Bones is cursing and griping all way long. But Jim takes it with a smile, concentrates on how close he is to his friend.

And if he sags a bit more into himself, making himself heavier, so that the arm around his waist grips him a bit tighter and drags him closer to the warm body next to him, well, who is going to condemn him?

He’s just an idiot in love after all.

And so they stumble through the dark, swaying more to the sides than walking a straight line, thanks to Jim hanging onto his friend for his life, till they make it back to their room. When they are finally through the door, Bones drags him the last few meters to his bed and drops him face first onto it.

Jim of course turns around, to give the brunet a piece of his mind about how you’re not supposed to haul poor drunk people around as if they are a sack of potatoes, but his words get stuck in his throat as soon as he looks at Bones.

The soft and carefree smile has returned to his face, and Jim gets reminded again of his awful situation. That he’s in love with his best friend, who of course doesn’t return his feelings. That this is all he ever gets.

Dammit, nothing seems to sober a man up faster than his heart breaking apart, cause there it is again, that all consuming pain, threatening to eat him up alive.

“Bones!”

Jim starts sobbing, slowly loses control over himself. Fuck, this is why he hates love, has never wanted to fall into it, cause it leaves him without a way back to his own sanity. And he hates how he gets Bones all worried, sees it in his friend’s eyes who stare anxiously at him.

“Jim, what’s wrong?”

His voice is soft, but Jim can hear the fear shining through it, and he’s not quite sure what Bones is afraid of? But then he remembers, yeah, he’s spread out on his bed, hot tears running down his face, while he’s struggling to calm his hitching breath.

No wonder Bones is looking at him with concern, like he’s trying to figure out how to calm a frightened animal. And if that isn’t a fitting image?

It’s truly hilarious, makes Jim laugh up suddenly and nearly choke on his own spit. God, this is love. Is this really love? Cause honestly, there’s tears and snot and spit, and all in all it’s nothing but disgusting.

Jim is disgusting.

But thankfully Bones doesn’t seem to mind that, as he’s slowly sitting down next to Jim, shifting closer to him till his hand reaches out to touch his cheek with gentle fingertips. When he realizes, that Jim doesn’t flinch away, his touch grows bolder, till his hand rests on the blond’s cheek, while his thumb is slowly stroking the still flowing tears away.

“Jim, please tell me what is wrong. Let me help you.”

God, his voice is utterly soothing, setting him on fire and he doesn’t know how to deal with this. It’s too much. There’s too much love, spilling over from his battered heart, spreading through his veins, flowing out of his eyes and threatening to tumble out of his mouth in broken words.

But he doesn’t know how to say this, doesn’t know how to wrap it up in words that would never be enough to describe what this man in front of him, who’s caring so much, means to him. In the end his mind still hasn’t the power to shut his mouth up.

“It hurts.”

Bones looks alarmed, ready to bolt and grab his medkit. Jim knows that look, has seen it directed at him so many times before.

“Where? Jim, tell me, where does it hurt?”

He’s pleading at him, and Jim feels immediately bad about making his friend worry about him and his stupid feelings. Unsure of what to say, he simply grabs the hand that’s still holding his cheek and leads it down to his chest, to rest directly over his heart.

Bones starts to frown, and Jim is sure that he has no idea what he’s trying to hint at.

“Jim… I don’t understand?”

The frown is accompanied by confusion, his eyes wander away from his own hand to Jim’s face as he seems to try finding the answer in the blond’s face. But he shouldn’t expect any help from Jim, who has no idea what he’s doing and is completely lost.

He’s out of his depth, but after a few seconds his brain finally decides to take over and do something. Though honestly, Jim has no idea if reaching up to Bones, sliding his hand to the back of his neck and dragging him down really is the best way to deal with the situation.

But still, it’s too late now.

Bones lets out a startled yelp, right before his lips meet Jim’s, and for a few dreadful moments nothing happens. Panic wells up in Jim - shit, he ruined everything, this is why he hates love, why did he - but then, Bones reacts and his lips softly start moving against his own.

Jim is in heaven.

Why didn’t he do that earlier? Why did he waste so much time?

God, his heart beats frantically, overjoyed with happiness while his mind just stumbles over yesyesrightyesplease again and again. This is perfect, he loves being in love. At least until Bones breaks away from him, leans back up after a few minutes and stares down at Jim clearly shocked.

Jim is confused and tries to reach out to Bones, to get close to him again, but the man just grabs his arms and holds him in his place. His face suddenly loses all emotions, shifts to an unsettling neutral expression.

“Jim, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Am not.”

“Jim.”

“I love you.”

And suddenly, all emotions are back, and Bones looks like he’s in pain, as if his heart is breaking into the same pieces Jim’s has done so many times before. Finally, Jim understands. He’s not the only one. Bones is the same as him.

“Jim, please don’t do this.”

But of course this is exactly what Jim’s doing, cause he needs Bones to understand. There’s no taking back, the words are out, and now that there’s hope that his feelings are returned, he repeats them over and over again.

Repeats them as he leans up and takes Bones face in his hand. Repeats them as he peppers gently kiss after kiss all over his face, and one last against his lips. And Bones just lets him, but after that last kiss he sighs and pushes Jim gently away.

“Fuck, Jim. You can’t do anything the easy way. Christ, what am I going to do with you?”

Jim has a few ideas about that, but they are not important as Bones. Who’s looking at him now with a mixture of happiness and exasperation. However, Jim still can feel the wariness radiating of him. He still doesn’t fully believe that he’s completely honest and not out of his mind.

“Bones! I mean it. You need to believe me.”

Dammit, he’s whining, but in the end he doesn’t really care. Not as long as Bones will finally believe him. The brunet scrubs a hand over his face and through his hair, and Jim is happy to see him contemplating the situation.

“Fine, you idiot. We’ll sleep over this, and if you still won’t change your mind in the morning, I’ll believe you completely.”

Jim starts grinning, cause this is so much better and more than he ever hoped for.

“Ok, but I won’t change my mind.”

Bones scoffs an affectionate “Infant” at him, before he stands up and leaves for the bathroom. Jim of course takes this opportunity to strip out of his clothes, except for his shirt and boxers, before he slips under the covers of Bones’ bed.

His friend returns after a few minutes, and seems not amused that Jim has changed beds in the meantime.

“Jim! Get out and into your own bed. You promised to wait till tomorrow.”

But Jim doesn’t want to sleep in his own bed. He’s too afraid to wake up and find out that everything had been just a dream. He needs to feel Bones close to him tonight.

“Bones, please. I promise, nothing more than sleeping.”

The brunet grumbles, but lets Jim do as he pleases. But before Jim is able to enjoy his triumph, Bones hurls a wet washcloth right into his face.

“Get cleaned up kid, you’ve still got snot on your face.”

Jim begrudgingly does as he’s told and throws the washcloth away.

Finally Bones, who has stripped down to his own shirt and boxers meanwhile, joins him under the covers. He’s shifting closer to Jim, but avoids their bodies touching. Jim’s not completely happy about that, but if Bones needs that for tonight he’s willing to let him have it. He still reaches out, lays his hand in the middle between them, his open palm upwards, in hope that Bones will understand.

And Bones does understand, as he grabs Jim’s hand and intertwines their fingers.

tags: @thevalesofanduin @medicatemedrmccoy @toosouthernforspace @reading-in-moonlight @feelmyroarrrr @0dannyphantom0 @eyeofdionysus @bsotstory @neon-green-bra @loststarlight @imoutofmyvulcanmind @fireboltrose7559 @ree923

McKirk: @joannaleemccoy

Non-reader: @mishacolyte

Star Trek: @theartofeheheh

this fic: @goingknowherewastaken (thought you might be interested ;) )

If anybody else wants to be added to or removed from my tag list, or has special wishes for being tagged, just let me know. :)

#star trek aos #mckirk #james t. kirk x leonard mccoy #james t. kirk #leonard mccoy #pining #pining jim #idiots in love

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