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fandom-monium · 4 years

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For the Holidays - Part 2

Summary: In which Spencer doesn’t want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

WC: 1.8k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), insecure and in-denial Spencer, light cursing, (tbh with all the shit that happens in CM they should be cussing way more)

Spencer doesn’t text you. But he’s tried.

First thing he got home, he tossed his bag aside and ripped off his blazer before he threw himself on the couch, digging through his pockets for his phone. Screw reading, taxes, dinner. There are more important things at stake here.

But he’s been sitting there for an hour, glaring at the empty text box with disdain, willing for words to appear.

No such luck.

Spencer writes essays and academic journals in an hour but formulating a simple text? He curses the universe for only making him academically gifted.

He runs a hand through his hair. Maybe he should call? No, you said text. And he doesn’t trust himself enough to have a verbal conversation with you. He will get tongue-tied.

Shit, what does he even say?

It’s not entirely his fault, alright? He’s never been put in a position like this before, except when he goes undercover. And even then everything is planned for him with little contribution on his part⎼he makes small edits to better fit the profiles but that’s about it. All he has to do is scan the file once and in seconds he has his fake identity, his fake backstory, and whatever fake details make up his fake life.

But this. This is different. He has to be brave because it’s you, and he has to chill out because this is supposed to be fake, he reminds himself. Both are tasks within themselves. And yeah, he’s a genius but as Albert Einstein once said, knowledge has its limits.

Shit, his thoughts are so jumbled he can’t even quote properly. This is all your fault.

You.

He still has to text you.

Spencer groans and flops on the couch, the phone clattering to the floor. He doesn’t bother, laying there until there’s an imprint of his butt in the cushions. He stares at the ceiling.

He remembers that you were the one to say yes. He hadn’t directly asked you but you agreed anyway, which means you are willing to spend time with him. Which means you like him (enough). Which means you are friends, and friends help friends out when they are in trouble.

Like needing a fake date.

He rolls onto his stomach, lips pursed as he stares over the edge of the couch. His phone glints in the lamp light.

Just friends helping each other out. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Spencer takes a deep breath and picks up the phone.

He can do this.

⎼

He can’t do this.

“I’m so excited,” Next to Spencer, you nestle into the seat and adjust the fuzzy blanket over your lap, eyes gleaming. “It’ll be nice to see where you grew up.”

Spencer only offers you a tight smile. His eyes dart about as the other passengers settle in, switching seats and fiddling luggage into the overhead compartments. Some of them already requesting for airplane food. Who in their right mind actually wants airplane food?

Spencer really wants to be as excited as you, and he is; he finally gets to spend some time with you outside of work, without the rest of the team hovering (waiting for one of you to make a damn move). It’s almost nice.

If only he can enjoy himself.

His knee bounces nonstop. Against the armrest his fingers tap a rhythm matching the thrum of his heart. And his hair is even more wild having run his hands through it repeatedly before meeting up with you.

He isn’t used to this, being alone with you. Sure, you partner up at work, in cases⎼hell, you've even accompanied each other to a few events. But those were as friends.

Technically, you’re his date. His romantic partner.

Spencer’s never let himself delve deep into his fantasies; he’s imagined (more times than he’d like to admit) taking you on dates to your favorite places, you in his arms, him in your arms⎼you know, minus the imminent danger. All the sweet things that couples do. But they always seemed out of reach. So he’d cut them off, squash the ideas before they went any further. False hope only hurts if you give in.

But now you’re on a plane, rocking in your seat as you hum to yourself, genuinely thrilled at the prospect of seeing his hometown.

This is more than he’s ever imagined. He feels like his heart’s about to burst.

Someone needs to call the bomb squad, real quick.

“Reid.”

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?" You're looking at him, voice drenched in so much concern his stomach twists. He made you worry. He feels guilty.

“Yeah-uh-” He clears his throat, attempting a smile. It’s a sad parody of the real thing. ”I'm fine.“

You raise an eyebrow and scoff, "Okay, I think I know why you're being weird. At least, weirder than usual."

Spencer’s heart drops. He leans back as you lean across your shared armrest, catching the sympathy in your eyes. He stiffens, bracing himself for the rejection. He should have known sooner or later you’d notice his not-so-friendly affections towards you. Of course you did, he isn’t exactly subtle; all the lunches, the museum tours, the stars in his eyes when you wrestle down unsubs⎼

"You’re nervous about seeing your old classmates again."

⎼Or, he’s much better at hiding it than he thought.

Spencer can only watch in awe as you continue, “And it’s totally natural. I mean, I haven’t been to a reunion, but I’d feel weird too if I got to see my classmates after all these years. But have no fear, (Your Name) is here.” You cringe, suddenly abashed. “Unless I’m completely off the mark and now you regret bringing me along. Oh no, that’s it, isn’t? You’re uncomfortable with the whole couples act.”

Spencer shakes his head, and for the first time since take off, he chuckles, “What? No, I’m happy that you’re here. And I couldn't think of anyone better to play my partner.” A relieved smile from you and he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. He fiddles with his sleeve. “But yeah, you got me. I am nervous.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie. You're here, next to him. That's more than enough reason to be.

If he had to be honest, between you and organizing the trip, he almost forgot about the reunion. Then again, he never liked reflecting on his high school years. For obvious reasons.

But your perception is a bucket of ice water over his head. Now he’s wide awake.

You’re doing this because you’re friends. You just want to help.

Friendship never hurt so much.

“I didn’t mention it before, but I’m sure you’re aware I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in school, being 6 years younger and all,” Spencer swallows the ache. You nod in understanding.

Bright, brown eyes meet yours. He bites his lip. “So, I appreciate you coming with me. It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

A split second.

Spencer glances away as he says 'friend'. The word leaves such a bittersweet taste he has to hold back a grimace, look anywhere else but you. The word just doesn’t sit right with him.

If he hadn’t looked away, he would have caught the way your smile dropped.

You nearly forgot, though you’re on holiday, this is a mission of sorts. This isn’t about you or how you feel. This is about Spencer. You berate yourself, remembering you're not a teenager anymore; you're a fucking adult and mature adults don't squee at their coworkers.

No matter how cute and adorable they are.

“Of course,” You plaster on a smile and finger the edge of your blanket, unintentionally mirroring him. "Your welcome."

Spencer gives you that white-person smile you love so much. You have to bite back a laugh.

To distract yourself, you pull out your phone and open the Chess app, holding it out to him. "Now, how about that rematch?"

Spencer's face lights up like a Christmas tree.

And as you immerse yourselves into another close match, you feel your confidence grow with every move, chuckling as Reid grumbles about you cheating (you’re not, he’s just a sore loser). You’re an FBI agent, for fuck’s sake. You played spouse and romantic partners for weeks, months. A weekend is nothing.

You can manage playing pretend with a coworker. Just operate like this is any other undercover assignment.

You can pretend you’re in love with Spencer Reid. You can handle it.

You can handle it.

⎼

You can’t handle it.

As one would expect, it’s hard to not fall in love with Spencer Reid. Just as it’s hard not to show it.

It feels like only yesterday the lanky man quite literally stumbled his way into your world and you decided, ‘Him. I will protect him with my life.’ And while you’d totally do that for anyone on the team, with Reid, it hits different.

After you landed in Las Vegas, you had a couple hours to kill before the reunion started, and as the good friend and partner you are, you suggested he show you all the places he frequented when he was little. For research, of course. After all, you’re playing his partner, so the more you know the better.

It’s definitely not because you’re invested in his life. Because that would be unprofessional.

(The way he beamed at you was totally worth it though.)

Then one step in the direction of his favorite eatery and he slipped on a patch of ice. You caught him in time, but the way he looked at you, brown eyes wide and filled with awe, made you feel things you shouldn't feel for a coworker.

It only snowballed from there. Everything about him is just so… endearing.

But you’re at your limit.

Love and affection threatens to spill out of you. Your hands flex in your coat pockets, itching to grab Spencer’s pretty face. Even your chest aches from your heart having swollen twice its size. You feel like you’re about to explode.

This might be the most difficult mission you’ve ever worked.

But this is it, you realize as you stand in front of the closed auditorium doors. This is the final lap. Where everything you’ve practiced really matters. You just have to keep up the charade for a few hours, then you won’t have to struggle to fight back the hearts in your eyes.

Although, your clothes fit tighter than you remember and you’re trembling. Why the fuck are you trembling?

Next to you Spencer eyes the double doors, almost like he’s daunted by them.

Multi-colored lights filter into the dark hallway, silhouettes flickering and shifting from the crack under the door as cheery holiday music faintly streams from behind them, accompanied by shouts and laughter. From his old classmates. Who are most likely making jokes at his expense.

Spencer already wants to go home.

“Ready, Doc?” As if sensing his hesitation, you offer a smile and an arm to him. Your eyes gleam with resolve. It’s more than enough for the both of you.

You can do this.

A deep breath, he slips his arm into yours. “Yep.”

He can do this.

Together, you open the doors.

AN: 2/4??

note: don’t expect part 3 to come out as quick. it’ll contain panic/anxiety descriptions and id like to take my time to write it best :))) i hope you enjoyed the last bit of happiness for a while :))))

also i apologize that i havent gotten to all the requests!! the ones posted on my masterlist are the ones currently being dealt with, but i’ll get through them eventually thx for the patience :D

i remember seeing a post ab Hotch x Prentiss and I didn’t get it but watching CM over again

i get it i so get it. when theyve both gone to each other’s homes? *tears up*

and my hate for seaver has been reinforced :)))))

#spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x oc #mgg x reader #mgg x y/n #matthew gray gubler x oc #matthew gray gubler imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid

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corpsentry · 4 years

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january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

#my stuff

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meenah-chan · 3 years

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Solace

A Belphegor x GN! MC fanfic

3.14k words

Genre: Angst

Trigger warning: mention of death. Read at your own discretion.

Requested by: @belphiesimpalways thank you for patiently waiting for this. Supposedly, this is for your birthday but still, belated Happy Birthday to you!! This became a little bit too long, and I actually changed the whole thing twice 😅😅 I changed the title too to prevent confusion, hope you don't mind.

He lost it the day he lost his beloved sister. A place to call his home. Yet he met them. The one who brings light to his dark days. But what shall he do, when this solace was never been his?

“How I wished I didn’t met you at all.”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He can hear the harrowing sound of the clock, ringing inside the closed space. As if it were imitating his increasing pulse. Belphegor couldn’t open his eyes. He won’t though, even if he can. He fears he’ll see it again. The agonizing sight of that cursed attic, where he is trapped, cold and lonely. Each click, each clack drives him on a brink of madness.

Somebody please make it stop..! Curled up in his bed, writhing in anguish, Belphegor tried to block the sound with his trembling hands.

Let me out… I hate this place...

“It is for your own good.” Lucifer’s voice reverberates throughout the whole room. His guide light and the hero of his stories… once upon a time, that is.

For my own good? This place was a nightmare! He was imprisoned! He was trapped inside his head, with nothing but bleak thoughts!

He felt cold, with no one to hold onto. With no Beelzebub or Lilith, ready to embrace him when he’s afraid…

Ahhh…

Right…

Even if he managed to escape that place, there’ll be no more Lilith to hold him. To comfort him. To make him laugh of joy and happiness. No more… Lilith is no more…

“...Belphegor?” he snapped his eyes open and suck in a deep breath, as if the voice pulled him out of the deepest pit of the abyss. His heart was beating fast, bathed in his own sweat.

It was just another dream. He was not trapped in the attic any more. He was freed, by the person with him right now, sitting beside his bed, a few weeks ago. “Are you alright? You’re sweating buckets and squirming in your sleep.”

“I’m fine. It was just pretty hot in here.”

They stared at him for a moment before replying. “...If you say so… Wait, let me get you some water and a change of clothes.” unconsciously he raised his hand, fingers tugging on the hen of their shirt which stopped them from their tracks.

“Don’t need one… Just stay here and be my pillow.” Still, feeling a bit anxious of being alone, he didn't let go.

“That won’t do. You’re so drenched. If you don't change clothes and rehydrate, you might get sick. I'll be back in a jiffy.” Yet as they swiftly pried his hand off their clothes, he couldn't do anything but to watch them stride out of the room.

He sighed, recollecting the series of events from the time he met them. “...What a weird person...” He muttered under his breath.

A few weeks ago… Just a few weeks ago, they succeeded in freeing him... Just a few weeks ago, they died by his hands... Yet, they kept on approaching him like nothing had happened.

But oddly enough, he also couldn't get them off his mind; to want them by his side. The only time he could find his peace of mind is when he's with them.

I guess I'm weird too...

Silently, he observed them. The way they speak and walk. The way they would scold him when he chose to nap over catching up his missed lessons. The way they tap and hum unconsciously, while studying with him to encourage him to do so. Those awkward laughs they made as they tried to mend the rift between him and his brothers. The sighs left their lips as his brothers fought over who would have them. The slow and silent steps they make to slip away. The way they wink and place a finger over their lips and pull him with them.

Especially the way their eyes disappear when they're smiling. He can never describe how soothing it was, that smile.

...until he suddenly felt it wasn't.

The way they make the very same smile to Lucifer, Belphegor couldn't help but feel a little bit too irritated. Yes, it was Lucifer. He’s naturally annoyed by him, after what he's done. But this is a little bit different from his usual displeasure.

The youngest just wanted to pry the human off him and drag them away. He knew he couldn't suppress the burning sensation rising from the pit of his stomach. He also knew he'll regret what he wanted to do. He'd look possessive. Delusional. He may even hurt them in the process. So, he chose to escape the scene instead, into the attic which was once his prison.

“Belphegor! I got... and you're asleep.” the demon dares not open his eyes as he hears them make their way to him. “You didn't even remove your uniform...or your shoes. I'm really amazed how you can fall asleep in a matter of seconds.” They carefully remove the shoes and socks from his soles.

Oh no... That's not a good thing. For every touch of their skin sends tingles throughout his entire body. Each cell screaming in a way he never felt before. The bed shook as they crawled in, reaching for the buttons of his vest. He was at his wit's end, completely conscious of the human's presence.

Before they could ever reach for the last row of buttons, his hand stopped them before he lose it.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Y-You're awake?!” Before they could ever pull back, he tugged them in his chest, flustering the human even more.

“H-Hey, let go. Your uniform will get wrinkled.” They tried squirming out to no avail. The demon is just too strong to make him budge.

“Don't want to.” To hide his warm and probably beet red face, he clasped their nape and keep their face over his shoulder.

“I still haven't changed out of mine.”

“Hmm, goodnight...”

“Hey...” after a few more stirring in vain, they just sighed and let the youngest have it his way.

This is bad. Thought Belphegor. The annoyance he felt a while ago dissipates as fast as it builds up inside of him. Still, his heartbeats and head were in utter chaos, the time he held them so close. He said he’s returning to slumber, yet his heart showed no signs of ever slowing down. He bet they could hear it, but he have no more energy to even mind it. After all, amidst the chaos in him, could also feel he won’t be getting any nightmares right now.

“Say Belphegor. Do you have a fever? You’re hot and your heart’s beating a bit too fast.”

“Just tired from the extra work a while ago. I just need some rest.”

“If you say so...”

He could no longer deny this feeling inside him.

He… fell in love with a human. He found it, the peace to his raging storm. The salve to his wounds. But they can never be his solace.

He lost it the day he lost his beloved sister. He lost his home. His freedom. He doesn’t have anything but his disgusting self, who could only obsess over keenly observing each and every move they make. Like a stalker. Like a creep. Like a predator eyeing its prey.

But they were never been his. And the day they learnt of his habit is the day they will be disgusted by him.

“Lucifer!” and the fact that they were attached to his eldest brother— the one who robbed him of his freedom once— didn’t help.

They would link arms around his. Heck, even snuggled to it as they do so, with that widest smile upon their face. The small giggles they give off as the abomination in the form of his brother praised them while petting them. Oh, how he wanted to just cut off that hand straying onto them! How dare he touch–

…them that might have already belonged to him, long before he could enter the picture…?

No. There's just no way that heartless brother of his to fall for a mere human. That brother who bowed down to a demon the day his sister died. And the human who taught him how to love again, to fall for Lucifer. That’s just… impossible… It’s just too cruel…

But I love them too! I can love them more than that fiend who chose a demon over his family!

“No, you’re much crueler…” He could hear the whispers at the back of his mind. “Have you forgotten what you did? You killed them. Do you think you have any rights to even lay a finger on them? You spiteful, wretched, monster…”

…Right… He has no rights to have them… He lost it before he could realize the weight of his actions… It was the painful truth. A punishment for a sinner like him. He could regret it until his last breath but he could never be forgiven.

He doesn't deserve to have a place in their heart. Never. Never…

The door to the twins’ room creaked open and he knew exactly whose footsteps it was without the need to look. “Belphegor, Lucifer gave me some sushi. You like this, right? Let’s eat it while it’s fresh.”

Lucifer again, huh...

“It’s yours. Eat it yourself.” There’s no more point in fighting a lost battle.

Let it grow, “Ehh? But you like—”

“Let’s stop this.” … or let it go.

“…Huh? Stop what?”

He also fears what he might do in the future due to this rotten affection of his. “Just as I thought, I couldn’t stand humans. You’re so naïve and trusting. I’m already fed up with dealing with your antics.”

“Wait, I don’t understand…” They asked, confusion and unease were all over their face.

“You don’t? Then let me explain in a way you’ll understand in that small, gullible brain of yours.” He took a deep breath. He needs to keep his cool or he will definitely break in front of them, “Everything is all an act. You thought I like being with you? Think again, fool. Having a human around me fills me with nothing but wrath and anger! Who do you cause my nightmares!? Your race disgusts me to death! Just looking at you makes me want to puke!”

“B-Belphegor… please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Kidding? Do I look like I’m joking?” he scoffed, holding back the pain clawing in his chest. “Be thankful for my brothers. If not because of them, you won’t be alive the second time, nor your ignorant race are.

“I won’t touch a hide of you or any human. So please, stop bothering me anymore.” being unable to stifle the emotions on the verge of bursting, he turned his back on the devastated human.

This is for the best. He’s back in his cage. Staring at the lacework of the long-lived spiders on the ceiling. He already witnessed its threads wear and replace countless of times. That might not even be the same spider he saw on his first night there. He could care less. After all, the only time he was truly curious of a being is when he met them.

How he wished the thread of his feelings were as flimsy as the spider’s. That way it’ll fall off over time. It can simply be cut off when it comes on his way.

“How I wished I didn’t meet you at all.” He knows it well. He is a big liar. In some way or another, just like the firstborn. But they deserve him more than his wretched self.

Lucifer, he was the morning star. The fact that both heaven and hell were captivated by his beauty and excellence. But Belphegor… he was nothing but a bleak abyss. He once dreamt of his brother’s greatness. Yet he couldn't be anything. He, miserable and empty, who only had nothing but guilt, regrets and a broken heart— as he watched them weep.

It’s been weeks since then. They never approached him like he said. Neither in the dining table nor classroom do they discern his presence. It was painful, but he can take it. The only unbearable one he felt is catching them cry— in Lucifer’s arms.

How long are they going to cry? Is it still because of him? No… This is for the best...

This is his atonement. His fate. He still couldn’t have anything, yet he already lost everything. His—

Lucifer… He is staring at him straight in the eye. I should leave.

But Belphegor couldn’t leave. Not after the eldest gave him that sly smirk. What does that mea…

Lucifer didn’t give him time to think. “Wha, Lucifer…?” Sound of confusion left their mouth as Lucifer grabbed their chin firmly between his index and thumb, with the menacing look on his face. “What are you—!”

And the gap between their faces disappeared. “Hmph!” The sight of the futile struggle of his beloved in the hands of the man he entrusted them to… made the youngest snap.

“LUCIFER!!!” His horns and tail materializing, he lunged towards him. His clenched fist flying in the air, aiming for his jaw. Yet, as if expecting it, Lucifer evade him, loosening his grip on the stunned human in the process. Belphegor saw this as a chance to pry them away from his brother’s hands, before jumping a few meters away from him.

“When are you going to learn to clean after your own mess, Belphegor?” As if the devious smirk were never been present on his face, Lucifer looked at them with his usual expression.

“What the hell?! You’re the one who assaulted them!!” He snarled like a wild animal, holding his treasure protectively from the threat.

“I didn’t do anything. Ask them yourself.”

“Ask? Do you think I’m blind?!” His stance became stiffer, fangs sheathed and glaring sharply at his brother, who is unfazed.

A light tug on his collar made his eyes soften, and caused him to realize his tight grip on them in which he loosen. “Are you hurt?”

“N-No… Lucifer’s saying the truth… He didn’t kiss me. I was just a bit confused he pressed his thumb over my lips.”

“.... What? Okay, but still—!”

“Do you think I’m a fool, Belphegor?” Lucifer cut him off, “I know what you’re planning. I'm already your brother for thousands of years.”

“...”

“Do you now understand the consequence of your foolish action? You left someone important to you in the care of others. But you didn’t think that sort of thing might actually happen?”

“But it’s you who they love!”

Lucifer’s frown deepens, “Even if it were some lesser demon they’re in love with, I bet you'll leave them in their care.”

“I...” He… Lucifer’s right… No one's more dangerous for them than himself.

Belphegor's horns and tail disappeared as he calms down, processing what his brother is saying.

“Everyone’s dangerous in Devildom, you fool. If you really are sorry for what you did, protect them instead.”

“Protect? But… But I...” Ignoring him, the eldest glanced at the person between the youngest’s arms.

“Do you already get what I’m saying Y/N?” They nod. “Not only are you both foolish and stubborn, but also blind. Now fix this yourselves. I’m done with your drama.” pinching the bridge of his nose, Lucifer left them in that awkward position without another word.

“...I’m really sorry. I was afraid to hurt you more than I already did.” After a moment of silence, Belphegor decided to break it first.

“You already did, you idiot.” Wiping the stray tears on their puffy eyes, Belphegor gave them a sad smile. “I guess I did.”

“But I still don’t think this is alright. Shouldn’t you be a bit more wary around me? I mean you already… died in my hands once.”

“You brat. Do you think I’d cry like that if I we’re okay with not being with you? I've never held a grudge against you in the first place.” They pout.

“Why? How can you forgive me that easily?” The demon frowns at them.

“Well, wouldn't life be more wonderful if we know how to forgive and forget?”

Frustrations were evident in his eyes, Belphegor's frown deepens. “That's not right… I killed you mercile—”

“Then shouldn't I be asking you? Why can't you forgive yourself?” He didn’t answer. Mistakes have already piled up as is.

Forgive himself? Why? Does he hate himself?

...Yes... I probably do... He loathed himself. terribly so... But they, who tasted the his abhorrence. He couldn't understand how they didn't.

“You want you to find happiness.” They cupped his disgruntled face in their palms, foreheads touching as they gave him comfort.

“I can’t.” with glassy eyes, he held a hand on his cheeks, “Not when you are my happiness. Not when you liked my brother.”

“You really are blind. And here I thought I was just assuming things.” their giggles were like music to his ears. Their orbs were like the placid sky set upon him. “You really are blind. And here I thought I was just assuming things.”

“I love you, idiot.” And their words, with no hint of doubt or hesitation, hit him like a surge. It made his feelings overflow, coursing throughout his entire body, and finally spilling on every corner of his eyes. It made him unable to speak. “I’m not even hoping for you to feel the same. I just wished to stay by your side… and for you to cherish yourself like how I’ve been to you.”

Belphegor felt so happy beyond words. Such indescribable feelings swirling inside him, one that he can’t put into words. With so much running inside his head, the only line he could form is… “Thank you.”

Weeping, but from so much joy this time, they huddled in each other's grasp, not caring of their setting, until their hearts finally felt whole again.

And after such a blissful moment, “...that’s it? No I love you too?” They spoke.

“What are you saying? I already said I love you.”

“No you didn’t. Saying I’m your happiness and confessing are separate things.” they frown at him, expecting.

“It’s the same.” Yet knowing how stubborn the demon is, the human raised their white flag, although disappointed.

“Okay, alright…” They sighed, wiping his eyes with a tear-stained handkerchief. “Why am I the one comforting you anyways? I’m the one crying because of you.”

Belphegor smiled mischievously, like he didn’t cry a while ago. “Because I’m the youngest.”

“Ugh, why did I fall for a spoiled brat?” Another sigh left them as they pulled him up, “Let's go, I’m sleepy.”

Yet as soon as he rose on his feet, he placed his arms on the back of their knees and shoulder blades to carry them, gaining a small yelp from them.

“Hey...” no protest managed to leave their lips as he sealed it with a chaste kiss. Probably not their first but it was the sweetest one. It only last a few seconds, but Belphegor knew fully well. This memory will last forever.

“I love you more, my solace.”

#I seriously don't know what I did here XD #hope you liked it tho #jumping to the next request tomorrow~~ ヾ(≧▽≦*)o #obey me fanfic #obey me belphegor #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me belphegor x mc #obey me boys #obey me #obey me masters #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #meenah-chan's babey fics~~#meenah-chan~~

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buckybarnesbabydoll · 3 years

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Lost and Found

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Warning(s): Brief mentions of blood and death, someone is impaled :(

Word count: 1,800+

Summary: You spent all of your life on the lonely desert planet, but as your interest in the expanding galaxy is piqued, a certain bounty hunter happens to show up in your life one day. Will you stay on the planet you've grown to know, or will you chase the change you've begun to crave?

Chapters: Chapter 1 (right here!), Chapter 2

Note(s): i feel that reader has an outfit thats kind of similar to Rey’s, but with more covering such as longer sleeves and a hood since yano, you live in a d e s e r t. This is also up on my Ao3!

You walked out to the blurrgs, lugging along a bucket of feed inside for the creatures. The morning was cool but starting to slowly warm up as the day went on.

You lived on the planet Arvala-7 with Kuiil. It was peaceful, Kuiil taught you many things about fixing technology, as well as how to make your own technology from scratch. On occasion, you ran into the Jawas as you sometimes aimlessly rode around the desert, either trying to clear your mind or find something to do. There wasn’t a whole lot available on the desert planet after all. One of your favorite things to do was stargaze, looking up into the sky full of twinkling white dots holding different life forms. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to leave the warm planet you lived on, imagining the vast environments that existed outside of your little corner in the galaxy. Not after the raiders took over the area you used to go to with your peculiar guardian.

The way you ended up on this planet was when your family had crash-landed in their ship. You couldn’t recall much since you were so small that day, the only thing that came to mind was screaming. So much screaming.

Kuiil had told you how he found you and your mother, or really, how you found him. He remembered that day very clearly. He was fixing something when he heard this droning sound of something coming closer and closer. Kuiil ran outside as fast as he could, then he saw the ship flying out of the sky like a falling star. Fire wildly flickering and wrapping around it as it flew closer to the planet's surface. The ship had crash-landed a little ways away from where he lived, he mounted one of his blurrgs and rode as quickly as he could to the crashed ship. He was sure the ship was completely destroyed, leaving nothing left over but ash and burnt metal.

Some nearby Jawas had also caught wind of the crash and were already huddled around the ship. But it was strange, what were they all crowding around for? As Kuiil approached the ship he realized there were still people alive in it, more specifically, a woman holding her baby. The Jawas looked at her sympathetically, chittering amongst themselves about what they should do. It was clear she didn’t have long left to live, she knew that. Blood was running down her side from what appeared to be a large shard of metal stuck in there. The baby was wailing as she tried to gently rock it back to sleep, singing to it her final lullaby.

Singing to you.

Kuiil dismounted his blurrg and started parting his way through the Jawas, looking down at your mother. She slowly lifted her head to look up at him with weak, but desperate eyes filled with tears. They both knew she wasn’t going to make it. There was a silent understanding as she held you up to him, and he reached out to gently take you from her bloodied hands. The few words she could get out to him were your name and her eternal gratitude. He stayed beside her until she closed her eyes for the last time, resting in the warm sand of the desert.

He had shown you her grave when you were old enough when you were ready to hear the truth about why you lived on the desert planet. What happened to your real family. Unfortunately, he didn’t know the whole story. What your mother was running from, or what was chasing you. It remained a mystery.

A mystery you weren’t sure if you wanted to find out.

However, you felt it had something to do with your abilities.

The way you found out about your… powers, was in an act of desperation. You recall being around 14, you and Kuiil were on an outcropping on your blurrgs, however, you don't fully remember why you were out there in the first place. The sun was setting later in the day and you were about to turn back until you saw a mudhorn had approached you two. Somehow neither of you noticed the mudhorn cave nearby until you had passed by. The chattering must have woken it up. You reached for your vibroblade, ready to strike. As you were feeling around for it, you remembered.

You forgot it at home.

Panicked, you fumbled for your blaster as Kuiil shouted at you to get out of the way. The mudhorn charged at Kuiil and knocked him and his blurrg off of the outcropping, you whipped your head around and reached out, your mind begging for some otherworldly power to save him. Just when you expected the worst, both he and the blurrg had abruptly stopped in midair. You let go and they plopped on the ground safely, before turning your attention to the mudhorn, who was raring to go. Your head was already throbbing from...whatever you just did, but you knew you had to do it again before it was too late. You forced yourself to focus on lifting the mudhorn, which seemed to work again. But you had to move quickly, or you’re sure you were going to pass out. While it was still in midair, you shot back the mudhorn at high speeds, back into its cave. The force made the cave shake, making some rocks fall down in the front of it and trapping it inside. Both you and Kuiil made it back without any more issues, the only thing on either of your minds was the events that just took place.

Kuiil couldn’t believe what had happened, he’d only heard the stories of people who could move objects with their minds. He never would think that a person of that kind would end up in his care.

It’s been seven years since then.

You got used to using your powers, however, Kuiil warned you to be careful and to only use it when you’re absolutely sure. He suspected those powers were what brought chaos to your family. Since there weren't many people on the planet, to begin with, it was simple enough to avoid. You used them sometimes when you were alone, wanting to get better at… whatever this was But you noticed one day, a gentleman came to your home. He stood at the entrance, holding a two-pronged object in his hand that beeped. Kuiil approached him, and the man informed you he was looking for a bounty. To your luck, it had nothing to do with you.

Time passed, more bounty hunters came and went. But you never saw them come back. You had a feeling the raiders were dangerous, but it seems like they were worse than you thought. You wished the hunters would just get what they came for, so they can take out the raiders and the bounty with them. It was a win-win if only someone would actually succeed.

Just as you started losing hope of those raiders ever getting wiped out, a man in a shiny silver helmet and tattered, mismatched armor appeared. You were lying on your side on the sofa reading a book when he arrived, following behind your vertically challenged “father.” You didn’t even need to look at him to know what he was here for.

“Bounty hunter?” you said, looking at your book. Kuiil nodded, but the man in armor looked at you curiously. Well, as inquisitively as he could in that helmet. How could you have known what he was here for?

“But not just any bounty hunter, this is a Mandalorian,” Kuiil said, gesturing to the man and you nodded, you understood they were great fighters. Perhaps there would finally be some peace after this one tried to get whatever bounty was. Kuiil glanced back at him, “Even though he was getting beaten up by the blurrgs,” he chuckled, making the Mandalorian shake his head.

“It sounds like you get a lot of bounty hunters through here,” the armored man said, his voice was modulated, but still pleasant. He was still looking at you, the client mentioned in passing that there was another asset that could be inhabiting the planet. But he wasn’t completely sure since every time they sent someone to collect them, their tracking fob would immediately stop working once they were in the range of the planet.

He couldn’t really see it being you though, you just seemed like a normal person. Someone who lived on Arvala-7 with their… father? Uncle? He could guess you probably had a familial bond with Kuiil. He did think it was sort of peculiar that a human was living on this planet, but it wasn’t his place to inquire about that. Mando reminded himself he was here for only one thing, and to just get in and out like with his other jobs.

Yeah, it’s just another job.

“We do,” you said, sitting up from the couch. You dog-eared the page you were on and looked up at him, “They all came for the same thing.” Kuiil offered the man a seat, which he politely accepted. The sun was setting, casting in strips of pinks and oranges, making the inside of the tent look warm and cozy.

“Did you help them?”

“We did,” you nodded, “but they never came back.”

“Then I’m not sure if I want your help,” his helmet tilted, looking between you and Kuiil. The latter came hobbling over, interjecting in the conversation.

“You will need it,” he sat down next to you, holding a container with water in it. “They can show you to the encampment,” he said, gesturing to you. Now that you were old enough to defend yourself, you didn’t mind showing the bounty hunters where they were supposed to go. None of them have ever come for you, so why would it happen now?

“Fine, what’s your cut?”

“Half.”

“Of the bounty to guide? That’s a bit steep,” the Mandalorian rested his gloved hands on his knees. As if he’d give up that much pay just to be pointed in the right direction.

“No, half of the blurrg you help capture.”

“The blurrgs? Keep both of them.”

“You’ll need one to ride,” you added, still looking at him. “It’s impossible to make it on this terrain without one.”

The Mandalorian shook his head a little bit, “I don’t know how to ride a blurrg.”

“Well then, you can either stick around for a lesson or leave without your bounty,” you stretched your arms up, about to turn in for the night. The Mandalorian sighed, not seeming too thrilled about his prospects concerning the blurrg. This wasn’t the most ideal situation for him, but if it meant he was able to get that expensive bounty, he might as well learn how to ride a blurrg.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djaren #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #reader insert #the mandalorian x force sensitive reader #force sensitive reader

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gra-sonas · 3 years

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Max Evans has had one hell of a year. The Roswell, New Mexico Season 3 premiere, which picked up a year after the events of the Season 2 finale, saw the alien-turned-cop living large with his pseudo siblings Isobel and Michael. However, his easygoing demeanor was nothing more than a facade. As it turns out, he is dying, principally because his body is rejecting the heart transplant he received last season. Now, he is on a mission to wrap up his unfinished business -- not the least of which involves Liz Ortecho, the estranged love of his life, and Jones, the alien from whom he was cloned.

Speaking to CBR, Roswell, New Mexico star Nathan Dean offered some insight into Max's end-of-life plans. He shared why it was so fun to play two separate characters in Season 3, as well as how that effect was accomplished behind the scenes. He explained the key difference between Max and Jones, which may very well show Max his own potential. He teased Anatsa's key role this season and warned fans to be worried about the results of Maria's ominous visions. He also previewed Max's reunion with Liz, the real-world issues that Season 3 will tackle and more.

CBR: This season, you're playing two separate characters. How do you alter your approach to differentiate between Max and Jones?

Nathan Dean: You know, Max has spent his whole life suppressing who he is, suppressing his abilities and trying to hide and trying to be human. Jones has never tried to do that. He has never suppressed anything. He's never tried to stop himself from finding his full potential. So really, it was just the opportunity.

I thank our showrunner Chris Hollier and our writers for allowing me to do this, to really step into the potential of what Max could have been under different circumstances, if he hadn't grown up on Earth around humans. If he never tried to suppress these abilities, if he never tried to suppress who you are or your potential, what is that? What is the limit there? For Jones, there is none.

So it was really fun to then step into this fully evolved version of the character that I've been playing and then switch between the two, go back to understanding the circumstances of, "Alright, you're human, you're trying to be human," but then switch back into, "Oh, no, you're not. You're so much more than human. You're something far beyond that." Yeah, juxtaposing the two was a lot of fun.

What is it like for you to act opposite yourself? What does that look like for you behind the scenes?

Nathan Dean: It's very weird! It's very weird. You know, there were days where there would be myself and there would be a photo double -- one for Max, one for Jones -- and there would be stunt doubles -- one for Max, one for Jones -- and we just kept multiplying on set. But it was very bizarre. It was a lot of fun.

You sort of do one side of the scene a certain way and then switch over. You know, you take the beard off, you change the outfit and change the mannerisms, change the demeanor, and then try to have a conversation with the self that you just were. It was very fun! [laughs] It was very bizarre, but it was great.

Thanks to Jones, Max is finally getting some of the answers he's longed for. How will that impact the way he sees himself, particularly in relation to Isobel and Guerin?

Nathan Dean: It impacts him a lot. I mean, we spent this past year... we weren't working. You know, a lot of people weren't working and you just kind of sit at home and have to look yourself in the mirror and really figure out who you want to be and how you want the world to remember you and how you want the world to see you.

Max is confronted with this thing in a very real person of Jones, literally looking yourself in the mirror. It sort of forces Max, I think, to take stock and appreciate Guerin and appreciate Isobel and Liz, too. I mean, just be grateful for having them in his life and finding out his place in the universe. You get to see, I think, that growth from him all season of just that gratitude and approaching people with respect, and respecting his situation so much more seeing it from someone else's eyes.

As we found out in the premiere, Max is dying. How does he envision his last days? What does his bucket list look like?

Well, I think largely it comes down to him wanting to respect and honor the people around him that have loved him in his life, and he hasn't necessarily always been good on that. So he just really wants to just be there for the people he cares about. I think for him, dying quietly and disappearing is the best option. He's always wanted to disappear into the shadows, but this season and Jones in particular kind of forced him to step out of those shadows and step into himself more.

I hope that, by the end of the season, that we see a much more mature, a much more fully formed Max than we have in the past. He's no longer allowed to hide because now there's two of him! So yeah, he's kind of forced to step into the spotlight when he doesn't necessarily want to.

It looks like Roswell has a new sheriff in town. How will that affect Max's job and his role in the community?

Nathan Dean: It doesn't really affect him. I mean, Max thankfully is not -- he doesn't have his job by election, but it definitely hurts him because Valenti was tough, but she was always kind of on his side and had his back. So yeah, he has to definitely adjust and learn a new place and learn if you he trust the new sheriff, who is coming into town in very crazy times, because now there's not one, but there's two of me.

He's got to learn how to adjust with that and hopefully, the new sheriff will be able to -- maybe not be as understanding as Valenti was, but yeah, she'll have a whole new set of problems to deal with. I hope we can trust her and hope that he'll be able to keep his job and try to keep her out of it as much as possible. But yeah, it's definitely a new rule.

In this week's episode, we learn a little more about Anatsa and her reason for coming to Roswell. How will we see that dynamic evolve as the season progresses?

Nathan Dean: Well, that's gonna be fun. I mean, she has her own agenda, definitely, and Max is a little bit reckless off the top and kind of steps a little bit out of line. But yeah, I mean, she's coming here, she's gonna learn a whole lot of things that she wasn't quite ready to learn when she first came to Roswell. Yeah, as the season goes on, we'll see her become integrated into not only Max's life, but then obviously, Michael and Isobel's life as well. She is really striving to uncover what turns out to be some uncomfortable truths.

Roswell has never shied away from dipping its toes into controversial topics, so how does that set the stage for the show to tackle some real-world current events?

Nathan Dean: Well, we've all been through a lot of these last couple years. Having jumped forward a year, we definitely touch on -- I mean, it's unavoidable. There was a pandemic! There was a lot of people going through some pretty difficult times. Yeah, we definitely jump into it. I mean, we'll talk about it. We always try to stay as current as possible.

I mean, the fact that Max is a cop, that's controversial in and of itself, and we definitely talk about that. Yeah, like you said, we don't shy away from situations that are going on in the real world, and I think this year, we were given a good platform to be able to have these conversations with level heads and not shy away from it. Stuff will come up about being a cop; stuff will come up about the pandemic. Kyle, one of our main characters, is a doctor. This stuff that doctors have had to go through these past couple of years, it's all very, very much at the forefront of this show.

We try to tackle everything with a level head and with respect. We just were given a lot of ammunition this past year, and we'll dive into it and we'll talk about it. But central to our show, obviously, is going to be these aliens and the relationship between Liz and Max and all that. So we try to play it all on an even playing field.

Just how trustworthy is Jones?

Nathan Dean: [laughs] I think you've got to figure out his agenda first! I mean, you've got to figure out what he wants. Ultimately, Jones sort of operates as a window into the past. Michael and Isobel primarily, but also Max, always had these questions boiling around in their minds about, "Who are we? Why are we here? Where did we come from? What's our place in the stars? What are we doing? What's happening?" And Jones is a window into that.

He obviously has his own plans and his own thing, but at the end of the day, yeah, he's sort of what Max could have been, had Max not grown up on Earth. We get to see that unfold and unfold throughout the season. So yeah, I mean, do you trust Max? Do you just Isobel? Do you trust Michael? Do you trust any of these aliens? Do you trust Jones? I don't know! That's all yet to be seen.

Maria keeps having visions of a funeral and she isn't quite sure who's in the coffin. How worried should fans be?

Nathan Dean: Definitely be worried. You know, we're just learning now what Maria's abilities are and what her role in this cosmic game is. As we move forward, trying to figure out what her ability is, and are these are these, in fact, real? Are these set in stone? Is this something that can be changed? What are these visions? Are these the future that's going to happen or a future that could happen?

Yeah, we learn a lot about Maria this year, and obviously Liz is off in LA trying to figure out how to deal with that as well. It's fun to sort of -- you know, she's one of the new aliens in the group and we get to figure out what that's about.

What can you tease about Max's reunion with Liz?

Nathan Dean: I mean, Max and Liz have this relationship that is constantly push and pull. They're in this orbit around each other they just can't break. It is very appropriate that she literally runs into him, because no matter how hard they try to be apart and try to be separated, the world, the universe, whatever it is, they just keep literally crashing into each other.

Obviously, it's been a year. Max is not doing well, in a lot of ways. There's also another Max out there somewhere. So yeah, they crash into each other in quite a spectacular way.

#nathan dean parsons #max evans #rnm cast interviews #rnm spoilers #rnm 3x02 #roswell new mexico s3 #echo #liz ortecho

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fishmongeringstudies · 3 years

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six: wandering the city while waiting for a train that'll never come, you stop to wave at a dog on the street only to realize you have mistaken a crumpled bag of mcdonald's for a chihuahua

i almost slipped and died in the shower today. luckily i didn't, because i read somewhere that slipping and dying in the shower makes it a little hard for you to finish writing a manuscript for a novel fictionalizing the events of your freshman spring semester that's definitely going to become a new york times bestseller in about four years' time, but i came pretty close. for a moment i had my hand on the wall and my legs splayed like a barbie doll stuck to a stripper pole and the matchbox world behind the shower curtain was slipping steadily south and heading lower still. and then i caught myself.

several minutes later i heard scuffling beyond the pale, soapy shower curtain and thought there might be someone creeping on me. if someone was creeping on me i had an idea of who it might be, which made the prospect all the more likely and infinitely more convincing inside the grapefruit-sized thing i called my brain. then i heard the clap of god's hands in an ashen sky, and i knew. this was no man made disaster-in-waiting. it had begun to rain.

it didn't rain for long. five minutes at best, two if my grasp on the spatial-temporal continuum is worse than i'd imagined (this is very likely; the stars pass me by faster than i can count them these days), but long enough that anyone who happened to be outside when that first teardrop fell from the sky got a little wet. a little fucked up, if you will, which, hey. good for him. he deserves to get a little fucked up.

but i get carried away. please excuse my personal grievances. this is not a lament, it is a swimming pool. full of tiny colorful fish which flit around at its bottom, chasing strands of sunlight like children on a playground.

the weather forecast says it'll rain again tomorrow, and maybe the day after, too, if the world stays sad enough to let it happen. it makes me nostalgic. when i left in february monsoon season was in full swing, tearing trees from their roots with big meaty hands and making every fleeting boring moment into the kind of gray sunday afternoon on which i imagine the directors of romantic dramas like to shoot break-ups. rain in singapore looks different. it's not a bucket full of water, it's a room. a blue room against a silver sky. your socks stuck to your ankles with the kind of grim determination that makes you almost a little sad to peel them off, to toss them in the washing machine behind the kitchen. there's a little balcony behind the kitchen in the house you left in february, with a washing machine and a ledge for sitting on and a dryer that doesn't work. you used to go there when you wanted to check on the restaurant across the street. from here you can make out the round, blue-rimmed tables that attract students, biking enthusiasts, three am brawls between red-faced european men and their red-faced european friends. if there's noise on this side of the street, it's probably coming from there.

summer. summer reminds me of home. so far i've been telling people that the association is a bad one, and it certainly isn't a lie, but it's not a whole truth either, if one believes in the matter of whole truths to begin with. i'm starting to think maybe there are only skim-milk truths, clotted cream truths, 0% fat yogurt truths. truths that change shape when you aren't looking. we aren't looking most of the time, after all. we're very busy people. all of us. we're trying to change the world.

and for what? who are we trying to save? do you want to live forever? that's the goal, isn't it. i mean it's definitely mine. i won't blame you if the concept of death sits on your shoulder like a fourth generation ipod touch with a broken home button, whispering really fucked up shit into your ear when you're alone. i mean it definitely does for me.

puzzle-girl is in new york now, last i checked. good for her. i hear new york is full of lights and electricity and car exhaust. maybe one day she will learn that friendship isn't an emergency help-line. probably not. my friend thinks she will, thinks we'll come back around in our junior year and everyone will see us stuck to each other again like two grotesque modern art pieces drilled back-to-back into a museum exhibit wall only with a firm mutual understanding of what boundaries are, but i have my doubts.

once someone told me with the kind of half-fake half-genuine smile that makes you wonder if AI technology has advanced far enough to mimic the complexities of stupid hormonal teenagers with really bad interpersonal issues after all that i was blooming. coincidentally all the flowers on campus had suddenly decided to poke their heads out of the dirt like babies busting their way out of refrigerators, guns blazing, hearts shot to pieces, so it's not like he was completely bullshitting me. he was only ninety-eight percent bullshitting me. the two percent is why he comes up in my writing as often as he does, all this time later. like i think he was ninety-eight percent clown but two percent circus, two percent red-nosed reindeer trying to unionize behind a striped curtain, two percent something real. or at least i like to think that way. i'm a writer. we have to pretend there's something to write about. or else what will we write about?

so yeah. one time someone told me i was blooming. at the time i was embarrassed. and then after the story put an abrupt end to itself i was madly obsessed with the idea of flowers jutting out of cracks in the earth, gold pouring forth from blood-wounds, poinsettia eyes, whatever, whatever, and then the flowers started wilting. standing on the path outside my dorm i was like what the fuck? why the hell is everything dying? it's been like three days, god, what are you guys made of, tissue paper?

i was talking to the flowers. which died in spite of my indignation, so that's one for nature, zero for me. good for them. see you next spring, when things will, hopefully, be different. i don't have a plan as much as i have a dream i'd like to see walk into reality on three legs and a pitchfork. but it's a good dream. i promise.

the sky's clear as glass now. it's so bright i could probably stick my hand up there and stir vigorously and then an angel would emerge from the ether, rubbing her eye sleepily with the back of her hand. that's the kind of clarity i'm talking about. making metaphors about christianity-clarity. i am lonely and my dreams are full of beautiful people-clarity.

that's a lie-clarity. loneliness is, as mentioned in a previous installment of the meandering car accident i call this blog, a choice, and i'm too lazy and full of my own slew of interpersonal issues to commit to something like that. but summer is new, and it's like i'm getting used to the body in my basement all over again. how do i step around it, how do i make sure i don't look at its face? and its eyes, oh, those eyes. how terrible. how full of absence.

there will be exactly two hundred students on campus when summer move-ins are finished next week. this school has a population of nearly sixteen hundred. what are we doing?

research. academia. learning a new language. road trips. plane trips. horse riding lessons. research. academia. learning a new language. relationships. spaceships. building a ladder to the moon.

it feels like the sun never sets sometimes. the hours slide into one another like tectonic plates beneath the surface of the world and yet the sky remains just as it looked this afternoon, milk-white and pale as death. a hot summer wind blows and sends the clouds careening sideways into each other, and yet from this distance nothing changes. drop a body in a bathtub and nothing changes. beat someone up and nothing changes. survive thirteen weeks of bad mistakes and then worse ones, midnight mistakes, thursday evening mistakes, the kind of mistake you don't think you'll ever be able to write about, and still nothing changes.

they say there's always a silver lining but what if i want fur instead? let's say i want a fur-lined sky with fur-lined clouds and a little heart-shaped toy that makes a sound when you step on it. let's say i want to be fifteen again. the sky doesn't care. it still looks like a damn sky. the sky doesn't do things out of sentimentality.

it's just kind of there. today i'm just kind of here. today we're all alive. good for you. good for me. good thing my hand was on the wall when i slipped in the shower, so i could get out and dry my hair and then sit down in this shitty weird-smelling lounge with my laptop with the cracked touchpad and my cool elmo slippers, and tell you about this solitary life on mars.

05.26.2021

#i just realized i put my mask on inside out. luckily i have been alone in this lounge for thirty minutes and it is a new mask #so minimal damage has been done but shame on me anyway. i will go reflect in the shame corner now

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tosikoarts · 3 years

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SFW Alphabet | Nikaidou Kouhei

I’m so sorry you had to wait for so long, boo, but if you see it I hope you’ll like it! Absolutely agreed on that Nikaidou deserves much love too! Please enjoy ♡ You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Before the unfortunate incident with Ogata and the bear happened, Nikaidou was such a braggart both about himself and his amazing s/o. They are the best around. He is one lucky guy to have them as a partner.

His main love language was going overboard with praise and physical touch. Not a day went by without Nikaidou paying at least one sweet compliment to the subject of his adoration. In addition, his face lighted up when they praised him for anything, be it his soldier's courage or deep dark eyes. Sometimes their dialogue turned into a verbal duel over who will overcompliment whom and it could last for half of the hour until one of them just started spilling the dumbest figures of speech imaginable.

But after the incident, things changed. Now he is all distant and quiet and then in a blink of an eye manic one running around in a stupefying delirium. When the painful realization of the horrors he and his poor brother endured becomes too clear, too close, Nikaidou’s whole world shrinks to the neck of a morphine bottle.

Physical contact? Well... After another maim, it is better to refrain from touching his bare skin altogether. But when Nikaido calms down (with the help of morphine or on his own), you can try to hug him and pat him on the head. Nikaidou himself refrains from initiating anything physical since the absence of his hand leaves him feeling less of a man and makes full-fledged embrace impossible. It truly saddens him.

In general, without his wonderhat and prostheses, Nikaidou feels extremely vulnerable and any touch of the skin near the supposed location of the ear, a stump of an arm or leg burns him like a red-hot iron. It is enormously aching, but for their sake, he can ignore it for a while. Their care is a medicine that is always in abundance but he is not the most compliant patient.

Once in a blue moon, he decides to give them a gift. The last one was made by Edogai. His fancy gloves of dubious origin have no frills, but are very pleasant to the touch, solid and hard. He has a hat, they have gloves, they match perfectly!

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Quite literally friendship-emotional-rollercoaster. Becoming friends with Nikaidou is easy but maintaining this friendship requires effort. It most likely originated in cold soldiers' barracks from occasional small talk about the harshness of military life. As expected, Kouhei’s friend is Yuhei’s friend too, - find trouble, make it double, - making them a famous trio of rascals that brings nothing but distress to other soldiers.

Prior to the loss of the ear, scalp, arms, legs, brother, a good chunk of sanity Nikaidou would like to hang out almost every day, drinking, visiting geishas, sitting on the war department porch, and enjoying heated debate about the future attack. Picking on others is also one of their favorite activities. A little bit of gossiping? Yes, please. Do I need to mention they usually get to serve detention together as well.

After numerous injuries, he gets an unpleasant pulling sensation in the abdomen when the thought of losing them pops In his head. Nikaidou can afford one more limb being cut off thanks to confidence in Arisaka’s natural ingenuity but losing them? Not like they can be replaced by anyone. Moreover, they are dear to his heart because they are a living reminder of the deceased brother.

Lets them talk into the ear and translates whatever comes from it as a form of… conversation. Nikaidou looks like he is about to throw a tantrum when he once again has to work with Usami or Kikita instead of his dear friend. They are also the one Tsukishima can turn to when Lieutenant Tsurumi isn’t around and Nikaidou refuses to give up a bottle of morphine.

Friendship with him is like talking to a different person every time. He is an irrepressible optimist, a child in a crippled body, that shares frightening thoughts about capturing the Immortal Sugimoto. He is also an anxious tangle of nerves hiding from the daylight like it will burn him alive. He is also a serious veteran that will shot the enemy on the spot if they get too close to him or them.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Pick a wrong time and you’ll get to cuddle a wood log instead of a breathing human being. It is a matter of luck and good timing instead of a cute date idea with a loved one. Nikaidou, if in a playful mood, would tease his s/o pretending he has no idea what they want from him. Maybe, they want to shake his hand? Real one or a wood one? As soon as they make a move, he will crawl away with a wide snide smile on his pale face. Eventually, Nikaidou will surrender to their mercy and tight overwhelming embrace but before that happens, he will have some fun playing naïve dummy. Any other time when Nikaidou is obsessing over random idee fixe he will ignore any attempts to cuddle him and even may jump away from them like from the flame. His perception of the touch varies depending on the mood it seems.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

To keep it short, no. Nothing and no one can convince Nikaidou that he has even the slightest chance of becoming a family man. The very thought of something like this makes him burst into hysterical laughter. He is not suitable for this, it is not worth trying so broken man Nikaidou has already joined Ogata’s little I’d Rather Kick A Bucket Than Settle Down club. Mediocre in both cleaning and cooking, doesn’t need constant persuasion to do either.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Endured torment reduced the potential emotional pain to almost non-existing so it won't be difficult for Nikaidou to just leave, to cut them off for their own good. The assumption that they need to end the relationship indicates a major shifting in Nikaidou’s life (maybe, he already knows that his life will end this evening) but at this point, the break-up doesn’t seem like a significant event anymore. Heavily sedated he mutters something unintelligible and then with Arisaka’s bayonet precision cuts the rubbish and announces that they are no longer a couple, they won’t see each other, they should not look for each other under any circumstances, and walks away. No hesitation, no doubts, only humility and disconnection.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Would love to get married someday, spend the rest of his life with a loved one far away from the horrors of war and the gold hunt. However, its possibility seems so elusive and unattainable that Nikaidou decided to put this thought on the back-burner. Now his mind is preoccupied with the desire to slit Sugimoto the Immortal open so even if there is a loved one by his side Nikaidou is highly unlikely to propose. Any hints and mentions of the wedding fly into one ear and fly out of the other.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Nikaidou began to appreciate moments of vulnerability and gentleness after life dumped the pile of shit on him. The tides of tenderness are always unexpected but most often they happen in the middle of the night when he jumps up drenched in a cold sweat from a nightmare. That’s when he snuggles closer to them like a child scared by dreadful thunderclaps and branched lightning. There are not so many things he needs to be happy: a gentle kiss on the top of the head would do just fine. Nikaidou also shows his soft side when the silly childish nature overcomes the bereaved byproduct of the war he has become. Then life seems a little more fun for him, and even more pleasant with their fingers squeezed in his hand. Otherwise, he is completely closed off both physically and emotionally and if confronted can’t even figure out what a person wants from him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Each of their meetings awakens an irresistible desire in Nikaidou to embrace them in his arms and spin them around to the sound of their ringing laughter. However, as soon as he leans forward, slightly bends the knees so they can jump up for a hug, invisible threads pull him back. You can pinpoint an exact moment when it hits him that Nikaidou awkwardly straightens up and looks bewildered for where to put his hands. In addition, he feels guilty either for the fact that he cannot give what they are asking for or for that he is so self-critical. If they still decide to take the initiative and hug him Nikaidou will not protest. So to say he never hugs them first but will return a hug half of the time.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It doesn’t take him long to confess, I’d say, time ranges from three to six months. Since Nikaidou quickly becomes comfortable with patient people who return his love, he will not miss the moment to mention how he feels. Each of his declarations of love is unique. Sometimes Nikaidou grabs them by the hand and runs away into the sunset to recite a verse in a secluded corner. Sometimes he spins around with puppy delight and chatters nonsense, mixing it with I love you. I really do. Did I tell you that I love you? Wait, did I? It’s impossible to get a serious confession from him even when Nikaidou gives the impression of a collected person. Absolutely ecstatic when his s/o whispers sweet nonsense and words of love into his ear. You can see it by the changes on his hat.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Nikaidou is one of those people who can go batshit crazy in the blink of an eye because of one wrong word. Even silence in combination with an appraising gaze flares him up like a red rag does so on a bull and there is no going back from this point. He is laconic. No empty threats, no long prelude. Once Nikaidou draws out a knife it’s between his rival and God. This man doesn’t mind getting messy since every outrageous deed of his will be blamed either on painkillers or someone else. Tsurumi probably won’t want him to end up behind bars or on the scaffold.

Won’t ever accuse his s/o of being unfaithful and will turn blind eye to red flags because… Perhaps he is simply not ready to lose another loved one. Without realizing it, Nikaidou ignores veiled disparaging phrases and undisguised interest in someone else for the sake of peace of mind.

That doesn’t mean he won’t kick man’s ass to prevent subsequent misunderstandings.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Messy, greedy, and ingratiating. He was pretty popular among girls way back in time so you can call him an experienced one and it shows. When Nikaidou is struck by unexpected amorousness in public, he will occasionally plant a kiss on his s/o’s cheek or shoulder. No, social unacceptability does not matter at all in a face of his feelings. In private he is just uncontrollable: Nikaidou goes from kisses to bites back to nibbling exploring them from head to toes. Prefers to kiss his s/o behind the ears, on clavicles, grooves between the ribs, etc. Any place where there is almost nothing between the bone and the covering skin makes his neurons fire additional dopamine. At the same time, he can be wayward about being kissed so the safest options are kisses on the cheek or nose.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I have reasonable doubts that any mother would want their kids to hand out around such a seasoned soldier as Nikaidou is but if it ever happened, they would have a fun time together. He turns into an absolute sweetheart when a little child grabs him by the hand and drag him along to show some sloppy hand-made craft. Even if Nikaidou tried to be harsh and unapproachable, his mask would fly off as soon as a high-pitched voice asked to play tag. Nevertheless, he prefers to stay away from kids to avoid scaring them with whatever frightening that could break through in his behavior. No need to give little one a recurring nightmare about limbs occasionally falling off to rumbling mirthless laughter. Never thought about having kids of his own but would definitely ponder if his s/o brought up this question. So, maybe, they and one or two cute little girls could make a perfect family?

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

They are erratic. To begin with, Nikaidou rarely spends nights with his loved one so catching him in the early hours is a tall tale. Much more often he visits them at lunchtime or even later in the afternoon having already fulfilled the plan to vex the top of the division. His mood has already dropped from a mania mark to ecstasy or normal level of excited agility making Nikaidou a skilled handyman, a voluble interlocutor, and an ardent lover three in one. While there is a free minute, he wants to mend creaking boards in the hallway right after describing the latest adventures in the smallest detail. May kiss them now and there between looking for the right tools and starring outside for a few sec. Overall Nikaidou endeavors to get the best of hours spent together.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Just like with mornings, staying over in his loved one’s place is a gemlike rarity. By the end of the day Nikaidou still in full swing and keeps the same attitude as earlier. When his battery finally dies, he turns into sluggish sessile mollusca Nikaidou homebodius that refuses to leave the secure shellhouse even if they beg him tearfully. Since outdoor activities are no longer an option, his s/o can try reading out loud, playing different board games, or chatting. Sleep quickly overpowers Nikaidou and he drags his loved one to bed or, if they don’t really want to sleep, tricks them into sitting next to him while he is peacefully dozing off.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Before the accident, he doesn’t feel the need to talk through every little event that happened to him during the conscious years of his life. If they ask specific questions, Nikaidou will still describe the past in general. The childhood did not differ from theirs, filled with small problems and big discoveries (as for a child). Teenage years? Well, nothing special, been there, done this… Neither he asks too much about his partner's past.

After all of the shit he endured, suspicion forces Nikaidou to always be alert and keep the banalest things to himself. You have to be a trusted person with a big T for him to open up at his own will.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

In a relatively safe environment and next to a loved one Nikaidou lowers his guard and allows himself to be amiable despite all irritants. He is too tired to worry, too tired to resort to passive aggression leave alone yell at them or show his anger in any other way so expect small sighs as a reaction to most stupid mistakes. Sometimes he just bursts out laughing instead of commenting on another misunderstanding. They may raise their voice in exasperation and Nikaidou would rather meekly look down than do the same in response. In a relationship, making him angry is not an easy task.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Nikaidou has a very selective memory which requires a strong emotional outburst to remember a thing. No matter how important it is in the eyes of his loved one or even in his own without proper reinforcement he won’t memorize it. For example, hypothetically and forgetting how he feels about the idea of family and marriage, on his wedding day he is overflowing with real solid happiness so naturally, this significant date will be engraved in his memory for life. Yet an important statement thrown in the boring conversation is unlikely to catch his attention. He pays little attention to anniversaries, remembers their birthday 5 times out of 10, and honestly is ok if they are just as thoughtful.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first moment of non-sexual intimacy like bathing together. It left Nikaidou speechless in unsuspected awkwardness of being perceived as he is, without the chance to hide or leave. For the first time in a while, he finds himself wondering what another person thinks of him, what sees in from of them, what feels toward him. Thanks to their love Nikaidou finds himself comfortable in his skin and a little more grounded. In a good way.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Congratulations on acquiring the iron man of the century with a wide range of body modifications to make this life safer for you and your loved ones. He won’t think twice to use Arisaka’s creations, both mechanisms hidden in the limbs and simply rifles created by his design, to disintegrate the slightest threat to his dearest. Not everybody around is seen as an enemy even though Nikaidou is terrified of losing them especially taking into account the unfolding carnage. Won’t ever ask them to protect him, won’t let them do it under any circumstances and if they show willfulness, he will surely scold them after a scrape.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Thinking ahead is the fate of weaklings. He has thought out one or two dates before realizing how tedious they appear so after that Nikaidou decided to invest only in the form of spur-of-the-moment ideas. Remembers about the anniversary if his loved one hints at it coming but diligently picks up a classic gift for them under the supervision of Tsukishima or Tsurumi himself. Likes to do chores? Hell yeah. When in a good mood Nikaidou can replace a whole group of handymen.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Not particularly that ugly? This is a problem that seeps into everyday life slowly and imperceptibly but sooner or later his small misdemeanors in everyday social interactions start to show. He misses one social cue, makes the situation kind of uncomfortable but doesn’t notice it until someone cautiously points it out. He tends to interrupt mid-sentence, often gets lost in thoughts and it puzzles him if a person finds it rude. Nikaidou navigates in society more or less successfully but can inadvertently bring a little awkwardness to the group.

Well, he is prone to all sorts of addiction. Not only painkillers. Any stupefying substance is at risk of transitioning from I’ll try it once just to know what’s like to I’ll go commit multiple atrocities if I don’t find a bottle or two.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

You probably don't expect to hear it, but outside the usual rush, Nikaidou prefers to keep himself neat and clean despite his style being on the weirder end of the style. He takes good care of his wooden limbs and repairs minor injuries himself. If the damage is done is beyond the limits of his capabilities, Nikaidou has no problem with asking Arisaka for a replacement. Definitely gets attached to clothes from his meager wardrobe easily.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

One of those people who won’t have energy left to go on without them. It’s misery. The devastation. The finish line right before the steep cliff that you don't have a spare second to stop from flying out into the abyss. Thirst for revenge helped him get back on his feet after losing his twin brother, who knows if it works twice. Overpowering sorrow sends Nikaidou into a frenzied episode of weeping and sobbing, he screams and wails like a wounded animal. If their killer is still around, he’ll try to cut them open in a fit of blind rage.

May fall in short psychosis and spend days sitting by their lifeless body, caressing heavy cold hands and peering in their lifeless eyes. Irreversibility of what is done hits him hard leading to gradual burnout.

And if they decide to leave him Nikaidou will hold a grudge. Everything is far from being as bad as in the previous scenario though, he just wants some space and everybody to shut the hell up as he stabs random objects. Secretly hopes for them to change their mind and come back. Somehow feels guilty about not being good enough.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

After 15 minutes of thinking, I came to the conclusion that I have none. Sorry!

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

It goes without saying changing Nikaidou is a waste of time like he is far from being a malleable clay and even further from mulling about adapt to someone's tastes. The thought is so bizarre that it fails to reach his subcortical structures and even if it did Nikaidou would rather flip a table and jump out of the window than agree to that idea.

The cold aloof type doesn’t get a pass either since without some effort on the part of the other person, they won’t pass the greeting milestone. Good luck in staring from afar as he evanesces with someone else's riffle running away from jaded Tsukishima.

People accustomed to planning every second of their lives with the scrupulousness of a busy businessman will have a hard time dealing with spontaneous shifts in Nikaidou’s mood and schedule. Half of the time he has a problem drawing a clock if you know what I mean.

Sugimoto’s relatives lmao, Nikaidou would definitely doesn’t like that in a partner.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Turns into an unmovable stone by ten and passes out with clenching on their hand using it as a pledge of good sleep. If he did not manage to fall asleep, it means that Nikaidou could not spend all his energy during the day and will have to do this in the middle of the night. Don’t be surprised if you wake up to a newly planted garden or Nikaidou stuck in the roof. No, I don’t know how.

Dreams mostly about his brother. Surprisingly, nightmares rarely bother him and Youhei appears in bright scenes, basically, in an alternative universe where they never have joined the army and stayed forever in the fondest hometown. After such dreams, Nikaidou wakes up with an unpleasant feeling of a lump in his throat but at the same time, even such an illusory meeting with his brother gives him the strength to keep going.

Indecisive whether he prefers to sleep with prostheses on or not. Prostheses on and Nikaidou is ready to protect and attack at any time but he would not want to make them uncomfortable

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy headcanon #golden kamuy imagine #nikaidou kouhei #tosikowrites

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worstloki · 4 years

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okay so on the idea that the nine realms is the america of space:

- everyone knows what’s going on there all the time because word gets out on every major event but everyone outside the nine is just a spectator at this point so people be eyeing the crazy stuff going on there but everyone also just moves on with their day

- this results in midgard and asgard being the star attractions where midgard is like the generation of younger activists fighting the system but its also florida with a few people doing crazy things while meanwhile asgard is the governing political mess (re: the other realms are just chilling. maybe they’re michigan or minnesota or every state that just exists and doesn’t get much attention? jotunheim can totally be texas though because its got its own personality but also gets stereotyped.)

- “so one of the weapon rich kids on Terra went through a life changing field trip and now he’s made himself a fully operational suit of armour and claims to be defending the planet” “with their noob tech? really?? they don’t even stand a chance against anything in the rest of their own galaxy--” “no no no he’s defending the planet and establishing peace... only within the populations on Terra” “aww that’s so cute” “i know!”

- space has all the gossip which means they know all the messed up stuff going on within the nine realms and everyone in space is kinda detached and not a part of it so its like a tragic-comedy reality show that people like to keep up with

- “so odin is pretending his new son is actually his firstborn now... and also banned talking about the whole history of being built on colonialism and also no one is ever allowed to mention his executioner daughter’’ “huh, weird”

- “odin totally stashed the tesseract on Terra to keep it safe” “why are you telling me this” “I was just thinking about how funny it’d be if those short-lived humans found it one day” “you’re not going to go find it for yourself? it’d sell for loads of credits...” “nah dude i’m not risking stepping into the pit of despair that is that dark dark section of the universe”

- “there are rumours he stole the jotunheim king's kid and is raising him as an asgardian” “does the kid know?” “the father sure doesn't he thinks the baby was killed” “no wonder laufeys been going a bit off the edge recently” “i’m feeling worse for the poor kid stuck with odin now”

- “hey so that Terra hero Quill was always going on about? he’s been found and recently unfrozen apparently” “dont lie to me - humans don’t live that long” “that’s just what I heard i swear”

- “odin used another realm as a time out dumping ground” “which one now?” “the second one, and midgard this time” “at least midgard isn’t filled with the souls of the dishonorable dead?” “well it was his favourite kid, so, ya know,” “ah yes, blatant nepotism, thou art a villain”

- “odin did--” “oh $#!^ what'd the old man do NOW” “well you know the stolen jotun kid? odin didn’t tell him he was a different species” “oh WOW that’s messed up” “oh yeah definitely. so anyways he tried to kill himsel-” “that place still has systematic racism in place and his other son has been pushing for violence since he was a kid so... what’d the old fart THINK would happen?” “beats me”

- everybody KNOWS what’s going on around there but no one wants to get stuck in that mess so they leave it alone and don't prod the nine realms with a ten foot pole if they can help it hence the negative connotations of midgard especially in gotg and captain marvel

- thanos can be colonial britain or something idk how history works but lets assume he thinks it’s prime time to go to planets and just kill some people and take their stuff for his own cause and also Sanctuary has 0 natural spices other than a pinch of salt okay

- ''i heard odin’s stolen kid, loki i think his name was? yeah I heard he finally got a ticket out of the nine realms'' ''good for him'' ''he landed with thanos though...'' ''well, $#!^”

- “Terra’s got a little band of protectors now” “yes I heard they took down Loki” “which would’ve been such a cool thing to watch honestly I mean a master of magic vs those cute little human beans” “nah he was totally faked it. I heard the guy didn’t even want to attack the place but thanos didn’t give him another out and wanted a native to speak for him.” “so he was playing thanos? oh boy that aint gonna end well” “but he also got the mind stone away from thanos so...” “the icon really just did that?? ayyy I stan 1 prince of asgard”

- “so I heard Terra’s hero band really just broke up because of some signature dispute” “I thought they don’t have a centralised government system yet though?” “there’s some subgoverning system that’s got most of the planet agreeing” “thats wild” “yeah so anyways there are still 2 stones there but now there’s no team to keep them safe” “oh yikes do you think we should try and assist or something in case thanos sends a retrieval party or something?” “I mean we probably should but I’m not doing it” “can’t they send Cap Marvel in? she’s from Terra aint she?” “yeah they should send Danvers in”

- “I heard odin finally kicked the bucket” “about time” “yeah but also his actual firstborn the one he tried to delete is back now...” “oh darn is loki ok?” “yeah he’s been on sakaar for like a week now just chilling” “good for him” “yeah but hela is totally trying to reinstate all the colonial bull loki was getting rid of as king” “where’s thor at in all this” “i think he accused loki of killing odin right after odin tried to guilt trip him into accepting he was a good father” “oh ew”

- “hey so they got rid of hela but asgard blew up-” “D:” “-and loki got to do it” “:D” “yeah i thought you’d like that... so do you think we should offer aid? they’re kinda in the way of thanos’ route to midgard” “they’re asgardians” “yeah but its not their fault they were living in asgard” “i’m not going anywhere near the nine realms thanks” “you’re right they’ll probably be fine anyways”

- “hey so... asgard was not fine” “oh no” “he’s heading to earth now for the other stones” “i’m not stepping foot anywhere near there, plus they’ve got their own protectors and all” “dude they broke up years ago remember the signing issues” “that’s still a thing?” “yeah dude it never ended” “wack”

- “i think thanos really is going to succeed and snap half the universe” “well if asgard needed support they could’ve just asked vanaheim or something” “asgard never admits to needing help we already know this” “maybe we should’ve told the other realms to help midgard jů̸̢̠̳͎̳̾̓̉͜st ̷͚͙̯̺̻̦̦̃̓̒̔͜i̴̺̼̗̞̘͖͉̙̾̆̋͂̀̚̚͠n ̷̜̮͚͖́̅̈̌̐͑͛͝ć̵̭͛͛̎͋̀à̷͚̬̩̾̒̅̿̄͆͋s̷̰̖̳̙̠͈̀͊̀ḙ̷͐͑̀̌̉...” “nah Migdard will be fine” “...” “john?” “...” “john?!” “...” “JOHN NOOO!!!” [five years later] “John! You’re back! Dude!! I missed you so much!!” “I told you we should’ve sent a letter or something” “john i love you but i still wouldn’t have risked sending a letter into the nine realms” “that’s fair”

in conclusion space has all the gossip, and people know stuff is going down there but no one wants to interact with the h*ckhole that the nine realms are, so everyone does their best to just steer clear and keep their hoods on when in the neighborhood.

#anyways loki is a living legend out there in the nine realms #he's totally considered an advocate for change #i bet loki's one of the few people who actually personally travel out of the nine realms so you've got all these stories about him #and then you meet him and he's like ''hi im loki'' and you're like 'hey maaaybe i should bring up that he was stolen? nah not my business''#anyways people are rooting for loki somewhere out there #this explains why no one else showed up to fight thanos off in infinity war despite the guy bringing huge ships across half the universe #some people showed up for endgame though because thanos was finally dead and &^$% no they're not letting ANOTHER thanos come in now #so anyways carol and loki are space famous #in fact most of midagard's heroes and asgard's royals are famous in space #i guess you could compare space to twitter? with the nine realms being america?#yes this entire post is based off the nine realms being the paris of space #or the america of sci fi movies if you will #I also want to apologise for any stereotyping/if the post is offensive in any way because I know nothing about America other than 'its bad'#the extent of my knowledge is literally memes and whatever chaos the whole political state of that place causes every few years #@shadowylemon i hope you're happy now

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teamhappyme · 4 years

Text

a series of promising events (4/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 6.7k

a/n: happy new year!! we’ve made it to part 4! this part differs from the 3 previous ones, as it takes place all in one (and a half) days. But there are flashbacks, represented with italics. if anything is confusing with the timeline, or anything else is confusing you in general, please let me know! my brain is a weird place and does not connect the dots when i post for a public audience. i hope you guys enjoy this part, it was really fun for me to write!

get ready, let’s go friends!

here are the links to part 1, part 2, & part 3

****

October 2012

“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.” - Winnie the Pooh

You’re known for your predictability. Yes, you’re overly kind, extremely perceptive, and a little bit of a literary genius. But those closest to you knew the predictability of your life.

You craved routine. You woke up at 5:30 every morning, had breakfast, watched the news, and caught up on some domestic things before heading into the office. You stopped at the same bagel cart every morning, an Asiago bagel with butter for you and a coffee for Spencer. Monday’s, you treated the whole team. You got to work at 7:12, second only to Hotch.

The team knew how you would react to every case. Missing or dead children would cause you to go silent, families being the target would choke you up, and anything including a scumbag with a signature kill made you nauseous.

So it was safe to say they were more than surprised to find out that you’d left for a month long european holiday, from an email, with Strauss cc'd on it. The team couldn’t remember the last time you went on vacation, because you hadn't gone further than two hours in one day.

In your travels through Europe, you stopped in countries that you’d only dreamt about visiting in your dreams. You saw Nyhavn, Denmark, the colorful canal right outside of Copenhagen. Hopped through Warsaw and Gdansk in Poland, before being silenced by your tour of Auschwitz. Next was France, the country you always said you would flee to once you aged out of the system. Besides hitting all the touristy attractions in Paris, you traveled through the alps, and made sure you stopped to see Giverny, the little village that inspired Claude Monet and his water lily paintings. The last true destination was Spain, jumping at the chance to flex your spanish minor muscles. You roamed Barcelona and Madrid, feeling a little like the Cheetah Girls as you stood in front of La Sagrada Familia.

The more you travelled, the more you’d thought about quitting. Thought about sending your resignation to Strauss through an email, leave your desk full of the mementos and picture frames, and continue falling in love with the continent you’d never been to before.

But then you made your final stop in London, to the sister who you missed immensely, and lost the nerve entirely.

“You’ll regret leaving them for the rest of your life,” Emily said to you, and you wondered for a second if she was projecting her decisions onto you.

“They don’t deserve me.” You’d mumbled out, just loud enough for her to hear. “I can’t continue on like this.”

You’d given the team everything you had for seven and a half years. The job demanded personal sacrifices you never thought you’d be capable of, until you met the people who signed on for this before you. The people who shared the same commitment to helping others, the responsibility to improve the world around them before the one that housed them. It was the first time you felt at home in your quarter century existence.

But the work never seized. The jet began to feel more like home than your apartment, hotel beds provided more comfort than your own pillow covered mattress. And no matter how many people you saved, no amount of gratification from loved ones could quell the loneliness building back inside you.

So you listened to Emily, and came back to the states on your original return flight, October 23, 2012. You returned to the real world in less than seventy-two hours and promised Garcia you would brush up on the next case before debriefing on Monday morning.

You were betting on the fact that the team wasn’t lingering around the office, considering it was seven thirty on a friday night as you headed up in the elevator, fresh off your flight from the UK. The last thing you wanted was someone to corner you, when all you wanted to do was sleep off the lingering memories of your last night here.

The glass doors leading into the BAU gave you a view of the bullpen; empty. Opening the door, you walked over to your desk, quickly glancing around the other spaces to see if anything had changed. It hadn’t.

Grabbing the files Garcia left on your desk and your car keys from the drawer, you tidied up the space the tiniest bit. You made sure everything was squared off to your monitor, updating the days passed on your desk calendar. You wrote a reminder on a yellow sticky to thank Reid for watering your small desk plant and stuck it to the screen for Monday. Everything looked like it was in its place, until you saw a blue stress ball sitting on your chair. Your head whipped up to the office at the top of the stairs, but the lights were off and the door shut. He wasn’t here.

But you could feel the stare of his eyes from four weeks ago on you just the same.

You guys were working a local case in the District.

The unsub had murdered three men, each with one shot to the head execution style. There were no signs of torture, and all three men were found with their eyes closed and arms crossed over their torsos; signs of remorse.

It took the team thirty hours to stick the profile and find the woman responsible. Her name was Kathryn Downey, a forty two year old mother of three, with a law degree that hadn’t been used in fifteen years. After digging into the victims personal lives and her own, the motive and stressor became clear to everyone; her husband had cheated on her.

You found Kathryn with a gun pointed to her husband’s head, his hands and feet duct taped, and a strip around his mouth keeping him silent.

Her hands were shaking, and you knew from the second you saw her that she didn’t want to kill him. She was angry, and full of rage, but she wouldn’t be able to follow through with this.

As long as you use the right language.

“Kathryn, put the gun down, we’re with the FBI.” Hotch started in a calm voice, but she shook her head, hands shaking faster.

“No. I have to do this. He,” She took a breath, pushing the hair out of her face with her free hand. “He has to pay.”

You glanced at Aaron before taking a step closer, slowly lowering your weapon. She needed to feel safe, and she needed to feel like an equal.

“Kathryn, my name is y/n l/n. I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit from the FBI. I really want to help you through this situation, so I’m going to put my gun down, alright?” You slowly lowered the gun to the ground, kicking it back gently to Hotch.

“Now Kathryn, I know your children are here. I don’t want anything to happen to them, and I know you don’t either, so could you tell me where they are so we can help them?”

“In the basement, I locked them in the basement. I didn’t want them to,” She let the thought end, not wanting to manifest it into the universe. She didn’t want them to see their mother kill their father.

Hotch spoke gently into the comms, getting Morgan and Rossi down to the kids.

“Kathryn, I want to know why we’re here in this situation. I’ve read the file, I profiled you and your family, but I want to know your side of the story. Why are you holding a gun to your husbands head?”

Her eyes widened in the slightest, and you were sure it was from the empathy in your voice. But this was your specialty, and you were determined to talk this woman down.

“He cheated on me,” She whispered, and for a split second, you thought this was going to be easy. But then she pressed the gun harder into his head, and let out a low laugh. “After everything I’ve done for this family, for him, he just takes his pants off for another woman?”

You heard the safety click off, and Hotch’s own in return. Please do not end in a shootout.

“Kathryn, don’t look at him. Don’t think about him kneeling in front of you. Just focus on me. Tell me how you got to this moment right now.”

“How did I get to this moment? I got here by following around this sad excuse for a man for the last twenty years. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t escape this life of mine.” Her eyes started to water, and you internally sighed. You were getting somewhere. “I have a law degree, you know. Fifth in my class at Columbia, and I only used it for a year. And it was in sleazy corporate law. Because I got married, and I got pregnant, and Sean wanted someone to stay home with the kids.

“I went from the intelligent corporate attorney with her eyes set on the attorney general’s office, to a cliche housewife who spends her days cleaning and dotting on her husband and kids. I never wanted to be this woman,” She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall down her face freely. She looked so young in this vulnerable state, too young to have three children. Yet she looked so tired, and so defeated. “I gave up everything for this family. I gave up my career, friends, bucket list dreams, and a life that was waiting to be lived, for this man. I cater to his every need, I listen to him drone on about work, assure him when he’s feeling anxious, and give in when he needs a release. I am my children’s rock; when they need a shoulder to cry on I’m there in a second. They need help with their math homework, I’m the number one girl. But when it’s my turn to fall apart, when it’s my turn to be lifted up and supported, nobody is there for me. And he should be able to be there for me.”

If you hadn’t undergone intense training at Quantico, you would’ve been in tears by now. You empathized with this woman more than you should, and you were trying so desperately to help her out of this situation. So you continued to dig your fingernails into your palms, and spoke again.

“I know what you’re feeling, Kathryn.”

“You don’t know what I’m feeling!” Wrong move. She ripped the gun away from her husband and fixed the trigger on you. Hotch moved so that he was only one step behind you, trying to get her to lower the gun. “You have no idea what this is like!”

“I do, Kathryn. I promise you I do. I may not be a wife, or a mother, but I know what it’s like to give yourself completely to a person. I know what it’s like to hold onto the stress and fears of the people you love. I understand, because I’m this person too.

“People like you and me, we feel the need to be the emotional support for everyone we love. We never want to see them struggle, and we never want to see them in pain. So, we listen. We overcompensate to make them feel better, and we check in regularly to make sure they’re okay. Our happiness, as strange and sad as it may be, is directly linked to theirs. We can’t be happy unless they’re happy. But once they come out of their depression, once they thank us for being the light in their lives, they walk away, and take the happy rainbow with them. And they don’t leave any for us.” Tears continued to fall down her face, but you needed to go further. She was going to break if you kept going. “Kathryn, I was in your position not long ago. I remember what it feels like when you realize that the love you have for someone won’t be reciprocated. That after everything you’ve done for them, all the small moments that you succeeded in taking their grief away and bringing happiness back into their life, they still don’t appreciate you. And it’s heartbreaking.

“But I’m standing across from you today, on the other side of that pain, trying to tell you that it gets better. It doesn’t go away, but it gets a hell of a lot better, Kathryn. So please, do not let this one moment that you couldn’t take the pain away ruin all the times you did.”

You expected the tears. You expected an emotional end to this situation. You didn’t expect Kathryn Downey to drop her gun in the middle of the room, and collapse onto you. But that’s exactly what she did. And instead of letting go to untie her husband, instead of joining Hotch in cuffing her, you held her for a minute. You held her breaking heart in your hands, and tried your hardest to take away all her fears and pain for once in her life.

After a minute, you pulled away and grabbed a hold of her upper arm. She gave you a slight nod, knowing this is what was always going to happen. You led her down the stairs and into the back of a squad car, as Aaron helped the husband to his children once outside of the house.

You were leaning against the suburban that you came in, watching as the team debriefed with the local pd before being dismissed. But amongst the chaos, Hotch found your eyes, and gave you a knowing look. One that meant you were going to talk through the very personal negotiation you gave.

The team arrived back at the office just shy of ten o’clock, Penelope waiting for Derek at the elevator. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as you led the gang into the bullpen, everyone dropping their go bags at their desks.

You lingered for a moment as Hotch made his way up to his office, knowing you’d be joining him in a few seconds. You grabbed your blue stress ball, complimentary from the C.A.L.M. department meeting, as through the curtains you could see him drop his bag before checking his phone for any messages from Jack.

“L/n,” Here it comes. “Can I talk to you in my office please?”

You and Spencer shared a look, and he gave you a comforting smile in return. You took the steps two at a time to his office, and shut the door behind you once you arrived. He was standing behind his desk, so you didn’t feel the need to sit yourself.

You waited for him to speak, since he was the one that called you in. It was a little childish, but you weren’t the one who wanted the discussion.

“I want to talk about the negotiation.”

“I thought it was pretty successful. I empathised, I got her to drop her weapon, and no one was injured in the process.”

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant.” He uncrossed his arms, letting out a sigh. The two of you were too exhausted to have this conversation, but that wasn’t going to stop Hotch from going on. “I told you that you could lean on me when it all became too much.”

“That was six years ago, Hotch.” Defensive, but not rude. A fine line. “And this wasn’t about work, this was personal. You’re not obligated to listen to our personal issues that take place outside the office.”

“And you are?” Stop spinning my words, Hotchner. “I know you, y/n. This isn’t just something that can be brushed back under the rug.” You scoffed. “You don’t know me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know me, Hotch. None of you do. You know my file. You know that I got a full ride to Bowdoin, that I was a social worker before transferring here, and that most of my life before eighteen was sealed away. I confided in you six years ago about my childhood and now you think you know me?”

“Why are you getting so defensive?”

“I’m not-” You paused, knowing that if you finished that statement it would, in fact, be defensive. “I’m just really tired and I don’t want to be having this conversation right now.”

“It’s not healthy for you to keep everything in while people spill their lives to you. And you know that.”

“Hotch,” You warned, your exhaustion quickly turning into rage.

“What, you really think I’m just going to drop this after hearing you confess to a serial killer that you have no joy in your life? And now you’re going to try and convince me that I don’t know anything about you? Bullshit, y/n. I know that you talk to your foster siblings every sunday to check in and make sure they’re all doing okay. I know that you volunteer with Garcia to help the families of victims cope with their loss. I know that you cling to Spencer like gum wherever you go to make him feel less insecure in a bar.”

“Stop it,”

“I know that your favorite color is purple, that you still write articles for CNN and The Times under a pseudonym. And I know, more than anything in the world, you want to be the mother that you never got to have.”

“Stop it!” You threw the blue ball into his builtins, hitting one of his stupid administrative awards in the process. He didn’t even flinch. “You don’t get to know me like that.”

“Why not?” You let out a low laugh as tears started to fill in your eyes. He was oblivious, and that's what made it hurt even more. You cracked your knuckles for a few seconds, waiting for him to connect the words you spoke at the Downey house and your frustration with him in this moment.

But his face softened, the wrinkles disappeared from his forehead, and you knew he figured it out. He didn’t need to say the words for you to know exactly what was going through his head. But he was with Beth, and you were not going to interfere. This wouldn’t change anything.

“It’s late, I should head home. I’ll get you my report before monday.”

You left his office without saying goodnight, and you tried to ignore the rest of your team huddled around Morgan’s desk, pretending not to be eavesdropping. But they totally were.

Instead you grabbed your bags, giving Spencer a reassuring smile as his gaze lingered on you for a second longer. You had no intentions of turning around to see Hotch’s face. But if you had, you would’ve seen the same heartbroken expression across his face, realizing he let you walk away.

You tore your eyes away from the office, not wanting to relive the memory any longer. You stashed the stress ball under your monitor before turning out the light, and making your way back to the elevator.

Once you were settled back in your apartment, you sent a text to Reid and JJ, letting them know you got in okay and that you’d see them at the office on Monday. After getting a thumbs up and a ‘glad you’re home’ in response, you turned in for the night, trying to dream of nights in Paris and Barcelona instead of at the BAU.

---

It was hard for you to get back in the routine of consulting and profiling. Garcia had left you copies of three cases the team was going to be working on when you returned, and you’d barely worked through the first one in two hours.

Three teenagers went missing from their small town in Idaho, and all were found in Seattle in the same week. Of course, your first case back included kids.

You resorted to calling Spencer when you really had no idea where to begin. You felt like a rookie all over again, asking for help when creating a geographical profile or running new negotiation tactics. But your best friend was quick to help, assuring you that once you got back to the office, you’d fall back into the routine.

“Did you have a good time?” He finally asked, albeit apprehensively. You didn’t leave on the best terms with anyone, and they all seemed to know what pushed you over the edge.

“I did. It’s amazing to know that there is a whole other world out there that we don’t even know about. It’s so different over there, Spence. It’s peaceful, and beautiful, and everything the place you call home should be.”

You could hear the intake of breath over the line. “Does that mean you’re moving to Spain?” A smile crossed your lips just thinking about Barcelona. But, it wasn’t home.

“This is my home, Spencer. I’m not leaving anytime soon.” You left out the part about contemplating a new life for the better part of three weeks, knowing it would only cause him more paranoia. You were staying in Quantico, continuing what you were born to do.

After drafting a rough profile and reviewing family statements, you took a break from the paperwork staring back at you all morning.

You made your way into the kitchen to find something for lunch, the afternoon approaching quick. All you really wanted to do was crash on the couch and watch old movies for hours, until monday morning inevitably rolled around. Selfishly you wanted your vacation to last forever. But your mind, and your bank account, thought differently.

After consuming a sandwich and some chips, you brought back the fresh mug of hot chocolate to the kitchen table, ready to take on the second file. Two women raped, tortured, and murdered outside of Miami. Why the fuck did it always have to be Florida.

Halfway through the family statements, there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun from the side table, just in case. Only three people had a key to your apartment. One of them was in England, one you just got off the phone with, and one… you didn’t exactly know where you stood with him.

After checking the peephole and seeing Hotch on the other side, you let out a sigh of relief. No one is coming to muder you. But it was quickly replaced with the memories of your last encounter, and the unspoken realization of feelings unrequited.

You placed your gun back on the table, and unlocked the door for him. He was wearing a navy blue quarter zip, jeans, and sneakers, the ultimate Aaron Hotchner not on duty look. It made your heart beat just a little faster noticing his hair was free of any gel, flopping naturally as he walked.

“Hi,” You greeted him, half of you hidden behind your front door.

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips, and he placed his hands in his pockets. “Hi. I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced. I know you must be tired and getting ready for Monday.”

“No, it’s okay. Did you want to come in?” You opened the door a little more, stepping out to show your sweatpants and sweatshirt look from behind the door.

“Thank you.” He murmured as he walked through the entrance, moving to take off his shoes. You told him a million times that you didn’t follow that rule, and that you hated it when people made their guests remove their shoes. But he told you once that it was a sign of comfort, that he felt at ease in someone else's home.

“Can I get you something to drink? I have some tea bags left over I think, or I can make you a cup of coffee.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? It’ll only take a second. Oh, are you hungry? I still have some sealed crackers from before I left, might have something in the freezer if-”

“Y/n,” He interrupted you and you stopped in the middle of your path to the kitchen. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” You nodded, making your way back to the living room. “Oh, I um, got something for Jack while I was in England with Emily. I know it’ll probably keep him holed up in his room for a week, but I couldn’t resist.”

You pulled out the bag of souvenirs you got for the team, grabbing the London attractions lego set you bought for the young boy. Aaron smiled when you handed it to him, knowing the two of them would no doubt be starting this when he got home.

“You didn’t have to get this for him. But he’s gonna love it.”

“I know.” You reached in the bag once more, pulling out the gift you got for Aaron. “And I know you’ll probably never wear this, but I had to get it for you.”

He opened the box, a british flag tie on the inside. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, the tacky gift really meaning a lot to him. “Thank you. I can honestly say this is the most unique gift I’ve ever received.”

“Glad to hear it.” You tucked your foot underneath you as you settled onto the couch, letting Aaron set the gifts aside. You knew what conversation was coming next, but you didn’t have the courage to start it. Especially since he was the one to come to you.

He settled in on the couch, a cushion between the two of you, a clear boundary that he’d set.

“Did you enjoy your time over there?”

“I had a really great time. I can’t believe I’d gone thirty two years without leaving the country. You don’t realize how much of the world there is to see until you go and uncover a small fraction of it.”

He smiled while beginning to pick at his fingernails. This was a new tell of his, he was usually extremely reserved with his anxiety. “You sound like Emily.”

“I’m going to take that as a complement.” You said with a small laugh, adoring the woman across the ocean.

“It is. She called me a few days ago, told me you guys had a nice visit.”

“We did. Prentiss knows how to have a good time no matter the city. It was a little too much for me, though.”

“Nobody can quite keep up with Emily.” He added before letting out a breath.

“She also told me that you were contemplating leaving the BAU.” There goes the first shoe, dropping from the ceiling. “Are you still thinking of quitting?”

“No.” It was the truth. Em had spoken some sense into you, and you knew deep down, like you told Spencer, this was your home. “I just needed a break from everything. And Europe was an amazing distraction. But I’m back, and ready to get back into the swing of things.”

He nodded, some tension slowly released from his shoulders. He couldn’t lose another member. It was too soon.

“Was it because of me?”

“What?” Even though you were expecting this conversation, it still caught you off guard.

“I’m not conceited enough to think you fled to another continent because of a fight, but is that what pushed you over the edge? What led you to want to quit the BAU?”

In a word, yes. The argument was the last straw on the camel's back. You’d spent years with this unit, fulfilling a destiny that you made up for yourself so that you wouldn’t feel guilty for not having a family or friends to confide in. You spent the better part of the last three years pining for a man you couldn’t have, trying to fill the holes in your life by playing pretend. So yes, it was Hotch that pushed you over the edge. But you learned a hell of a lot about yourself in those four weeks.

“Hotch, did you know that this was the first time I went on an airplane for my own enjoyment? This was the first vacation I’ve been on in my life. I booked a flight on a Thursday night that left at six a.m. the next morning. I was spontaneous, and in control of all the moves I would make for the next thirty days. I’ve never felt more liberated in my life.

“But then I landed in Copenhagen, and had an anxiety attack. I can’t speak Danish, I have no idea how to get around a new country, and I only had thirty dollars in cash to my name. And the only thing I could think of to help me get through it, was calling you. I had your contact pulled up, ready to call you and tell you what a stupid fucking mistake I made. But then I could hear your voice in my head, saying ‘I know you’, and I’d never turned my phone off faster.”

“Y/n,” He sounded exhausted himself, but you weren’t going to give in to the apologies. Not yet.

“I had the time of my life there. I went to places that I never thought I’d get to see in my life. Places that my foster parents told me I’d never be important enough to go to. But I made it. I made it to Giverny, and I saw what inspired Claude Monet to paint the Water Lilies series with my own eyes. I went inside La Sagrada Familia and walked on the steps that Gaudi dreamt of. I saw everything I wanted to, and I wept every place I went to. Because I got myself there. I persevered and worked my ass off my whole life, to get there. I didn’t have any parents, I didn't have any siblings, a spouse, or children. I did it all by myself, and it felt pretty amazing to accomplish that.

“No one knows me like I do.” You finished. Your walls were back up starting to feel secure in your own skin again.

He stayed silent for a few minutes, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. He was calculating his response, trying to formulate the perfect response to get the two of you back on track. It was exhausting watching his brain work, and you wondered how tired he must always be.

After another minute, he sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. “Beth and I broke up two weeks before you left.” The other shoe had dropped.

“What?” For the second time tonight, you were rendered speechless by Aaron Hotchner. This was not the response you were expecting, and not the news you expected to hear anytime soon. The two of them were obsessed with one another, how could they just end it?

“We ended it two weeks before your trip. She accepted a job in Kyoto, and didn’t want to string me along with long distance. But she also said she knew my heart wasn’t in it anymore.”

You stood up from the couch, not being able to sit still with this new information. Hotch and Beth were no longer together, he said all those things to you as a single man, understood what you felt for him, and still let you walk out of his office. For four weeks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was his turn to stand, still leaving enough distance between the two of you to continue your pacing.

“Don’t deflect to another conversation.”

“You’re the one that brought it up!”

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly shaggy hair. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you again. So please, get it through your thick skull when I tell you that I know you. And I don’t mean that on a bureaucratic superior level. I know you, y/n. And just because you’ve been alone your whole life, doesn’t mean you deserve to be alone for the rest of it.”

Your eyes started to water, so you looked away, gluing your line of sight to the wall next to you.

“You give us all one hundred and ten percent of your attention when we need you. And when I say all of us, that includes Jack and Henry. I’ve never met someone so intune to another person's feelings, who exudes so much empathy with one look and a smile. And we’ve taken you for granted for seven and a half years. Me the most.” Your eyes found his brown ones, begging you to continue looking at him. “I couldn’t have gotten through Haley’s death without you. And that is the biggest understatement of the decade. I am eternally grateful for all that you’ve done for me and Jack. But at the same time, I’m so sorry that it pushed me further and further away from you.”

His own eyes started to water, and he choked out a laugh. “What you said to Kathryn Downey, about giving yourself completely to a person and not getting the love reciprocated. I felt like an absolute idiot for not realizing that you felt the same way I did.” You closed your eyes with his confession, letting the tears roll down your cheeks.

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you. But then Haley took Jack, and Foyet came, and the world got away from me. And I’m so sorry that you’ve felt the need to carry all our problems on your own.”

“Hotch, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Please, don’t call me Hotch right now.” He took a step toward you. “It’s Aaron, when I’m standing in front of you, begging you to just let me in.”

“I don’t,” Your voice cracked, and you rubbed your hands over your face in frustration. “I don’t know how to let someone love me.”

“I know,” He took another step closer. “You’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you I’ve been in love with you for years.”

He didn’t see the rest of your tears fall, because you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. His arms found their place around your waist, pulling you two impossibly close.

“I love you, Aaron.” You could feel him laughing with his chest pressed against your own, and he moved to kiss the side of your head.

“I love you.” He whispered back, causing the last of your tears to fall onto his sweatshirt.

He started to pull away, just enough to get a look at your face. His eyes were no longer filled with tears, but his cheeks still glistened when the light illuminated the damp spots on his face. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his knuckles gently graze your temple. You caught his hand in the middle of his movement, lacing your fingers with his own. You’d been dying to know what it felt like to hold his hand like this for years, when you found yourself comforting him in his office one night, lightly holding his hand in yours. But this was so much better.

“You good?” He asked, and the corners of your mouth turned up the slightest.

“I’m good.” He traced the lightest check mark on your laced hands, causing a true smile to grace your face.

“You have a tally to see who can make me smile the most?”

“It’s just mine. Been keeping it for years. But I’m always in the lead.”

You laughed while letting go of his hand, wrapping your arms back around his neck. His eyes flickered to your lips for a second before looking back at you. You gave him a small nod, knowing he was asking for your permission.

When his lips met yours, you knew this was the feeling that all the fairytales sang about. He was gentle at first, slotting your upper lip between his own. It was slow, and full of love from the years of knowing one another inside and out. He bit your lower lip softly, barely there, and you slowly parted your lips, letting him trace your tongue with his own.

All you could think about was how warm he was, how his breath was actively leaving his lungs and entering your own as if you were one person. It was all consuming, and you were grateful that he took the lead, because you couldn’t focus on anything but him.

His hands slipped under your sweatshirt, resting on the skin just above your hips. You let out a small gasp as his cold fingers made contact with the sensitive skin, but it only made him laugh into the kiss.

After a few more moments of getting lost in the feel of one another, you reluctantly pulled away, needing air to fill up your lungs. But Aaron didn’t go far, gently resting his forehead against your own.

“I love you. And I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to stop telling you.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head up, slowly kissing him again.

“I’ll never get sick of hearing it.” You mumbled, your lips still grazing his own. He smiled into the kiss, which only made your heart glow brighter and brighter the more he showed you how he felt.

You pulled away first, tracing the outline of his jaw with your thumbs. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He tilted his head to the side, just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand.

The tenderness this man exudes is beyond belief. “I really love you, Aaron.”

He laughed while pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad to hear that.”

You let him hold you for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes. “I promised Jack I would take him out for ice cream to make up for missing his soccer game last night.”

“Okay,” You said and started to pull away, but his grip on your waist only tightened.

“Really? You’re just gonna let go without a goodbye?” You laughed at his fake hurt expression, so incredibly happy that you get to see Aaron in this light, enjoying his son, his life, and you.

“I’m not about to stand in the way of Jack Hotchner and a sugar rush. That guy loves his sugar.”

He let go of your waist, but not without a light squeeze to your sides. “I know we literally just started this, but I really would like to tell him. I don’t want to keep any more secrets from him than I have to.”

You smiled at the thought of Aaron telling Jack how in love the two of you were. It made you feel complete, in a way you never thought you’d get to experience in your life.

“Tell him. As long as he doesn’t blab about it to anyone on the team just yet.”

“You sure?” You nodded while passing him the souvenirs as he slipped his sneakers back on.

“Aaron, he’s your son. I’ve loved him as long as I’ve loved you, maybe even longer.”

He stood up once again, that stupid smile not willing to leave his face any time soon.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Must’ve been something pretty good.” You said with a laugh, which he silenced by placing his lips on yours. You hoped the butterflies you felt now would be there every time he kissed you, no matter how many years have passed.

“Like that.” You said once he pulled away. His dimples were showing now, and you wished that you could take a picture of him in this happy moment and remember it for the rest of your lives.

“I’ll call you tonight.” He said and opened the front door.

“Okay. Have fun, tell Jack I said hi.”

“I will.” He kissed your cheek before starting the walk back down the hallway. He didn’t even make it halfway before turning around, and giving you one final kiss in the doorway.

“Love you,” He said and gave you one more peck, before you shoved his shoulder. “I love you too. Now get outta here, Hotchner.”

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites @averyhotchner @dreamy-moments @softhxtch @crazymar15 @theinsanespaceship15 @wecouldbreakthedistance @jeor @funnycuteandannoying @andherestograce @thisisntjuliana @captwilson @kennedyblair @lovelysunflowerxoxo @rcompton @iifaequeenii @iwaizumiee @mrsaaronh0tchner @abbeyannsmith-blog @becausehello @rinacriedpower @ssa-raye @ephemeral-barnes @slxtherinchxser @baueoud @lieswithoutfairytales @hug-a-bug-boo @blogmythoughts @freebanditghostcalzone @sugarbutterbailey

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #jules writes shit ??

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 4 years

Text

Summer Nights: Part 2

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Overweight/Plus size Female identifying Reader

Series: Summer Nights

Warning: Fred’s death, the series will mention issues such as guilt, grief, etc. + Chapter specific warnings: physical attraction, gawking, hot Charlie.

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff (formerly imaginesofeveryfandom) aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: You’d always had brief glimpses of Charlie Weasley throughout your life, but despite your closeness with the rest of the Weasley family and your friendship with the Weasley Twins, you had never officially met. Until Charlie Weasley decided to take the summer off from his work as a Dragon Keeper at the Romanian Reserve and come back home, to the Burrow, that is.

Notes: Gif is my own, using my art of Charlie Weasley which you can find on my art blog @artisticwarnug here. If you use please make sure you credit me and my art blog properly, that the ownership is clear as it is my own art and I would hate for it to be unclear that I made it <3 x

Prologue / Part 1

June was looking to be surprisingly warm in England and with that in mind you forwent the usual woollen jumpers of the Weasley clan and instead reached for your summer clothes that had been sat in the back of the wardrobe for many months. Pulling on a pair of denim shorts, the only pair that you’d managed to get to fit given your wide hips (unlike other denim shorts they didn’t gape at the waist much to your joy), and a vest top, before shoving your feet in your worn trainers. Running a brush through your hair you contemplated the changes you’d gone through since Hogwarts.

You were still a large woman, wide hips, soft stomach, big arms, fat rolls, a soft looking face, thick thighs. But, the self-consciousness you’d held during school was almost nonexistent. The energy you used to have was somewhat diminished, you usually had dark circles under your eyes, and a tired sort of look. Your hair was finally how you’d always wanted it, your parents no longer allowed to tell you off for cutting it this way or that or dying it this colour or the other. (Not that changing your hair was particularly hard when you had magic at your disposal). You looked older, that was certainly true, the youthful look had gone slightly and while you still looked young, you certainly looked like the adult that you were. You hadn’t grown any taller since school and for the most part you thought you looked rather the same, just with more confidence in yourself, a generous helping of trauma and heartache and a few years added on.

Returning the brush to the dresser underneath your mirror, you decided it was probably time to make your way to the little patch of vegetables and fruits that you were charged with watering.

There was something relaxing about gardening at the Burrow, it took your mind off the war that had been and instead allowed you to ground yourself. The sounds of the birds in the trees, the feel of the warm sun on your skin, the soil beneath your hands and knees. It involved a multitude of sensations which helped focus you, helped you smile, even briefly and reminded you that somethings don’t change. Despite everything the earth was still the same, the birds still sang their songs, the sun still decided to shine. While you had all changed and all been touched, some things were constant.

You watched George swing a gnome wildly as you filled a watering can, Ron was nearby being bitten by a gnome. Aguamenti came in handy, quickly filling the can. The vegetables were doing well already, despite needing a little weeding and a little watering, the plants looked healthy. You were sure that Mrs Weasley had some sort of secret trick to making them grow so well and so effortlessly.

You started weeding first, despite the warm sun bearing down on you. You found yourself wiping your brow of sweat every few minutes and your skin felt like it was covered in a thin layer of moisture. But, still you persisted. Until you heard George swear loudly. This swearing prompted a series of events which completely distracted you from your gardening. This series of events went something like this; George swore (something about Merlin’s saggy balls), you promptly looked up to make sure he hadn’t been seriously hurt to find he had just been lightly kicked in the shin by a gnome, at the sound of laughter your eyes moved from George to Charlie...and there in laid your distraction.

As has previously been said Charlie Weasley was an incredibly attractive man, but more so when he was shirtless, standing in the sun, with a large smile on his face. It was a beautiful sight. Charlie’s smile was on its own something that made you feel warm inside, like things were okay because he was smiling. But, dear merlin, were you a woman with certain feelings. Charlie was broad shouldered and beautiful, genuinely beautiful. The magical tattoos that moved across his skin of their own accord, the heavy layer of freckles. The scars that littered his body didn’t detract from the sheer beauty of Charlie, if anything it added to it.They made you more aware of just how resilient and strong Charlie was. You wondered if he could pick you up with those strong arms, what it would be like to be carried by Charlie or simply to be held by him. He looked warm and safe...and delicious. You sighed wistfully as you watched him degnome the garden, your weeding and watering long forgotten.

“You can’t be serious.” You jump with a little squeak (or rather a loud shout) as Ginny pops up right behind you and interrupts your day dreaming. George and Charlie look over at you, from your place in the dirt where you’d fallen in shock, but seemed to decide that you were okay. With a light laugh at your expense they returned to degnoming.

“Ginny!” You hiss at her, “Don’t scare me like that!” You loved the girl dearly, but she knew you were easily scared. Especially after the war. It had heightened your anxiety and hyper awareness.

“I wouldn’t have scared you if you hadn’t been drooling over my brother.” She teases, sitting down next to you in the dirt, “Besides, mum asked me to come help you...I think she noticed you were distracted.”

“Please tell me she didn’t...she’ll be insufferable.” You look towards the Burrow, worried you might see Mrs Weasley eagerly watching you.

“So you don’t want to date my brother?”

“I...I find him pleasant to look at...is all.” That was a lie and the both of you knew it. You would happily date Charlie Weasley. Not only was he physically very attractive, but he was funny and seemed kind and invested in his career. You just had reservations...after all he worked and lived in Romania and if it all went terribly wrong what would happen with your extended family? Would you no longer be able to spend time with the Weasley’s? What if he wasn’t interested and you simply made everything terribly awkward?

“You know there’s no harm in liking someone, right? It’s not going to kill you to admit you’re attracted to him.”

“It’s more than that, Ginny. It’s more complicated. There’s a million other factors to take into account. We’re not kids in school, Gin...we’re adults and we have our own lives and that’s not even taking into account that just because I think Charlie is handsome doesn’t mean he’s interested in me in the slightest!” You pick at the stones in the vegetable patch, throwing them away, just to give your hands something to do. You can feel the embarrassment rising in you at talking about this with his own sister, your friend.

“Piss off! As if he wouldn’t be!”

“Gin, this is the brother that I have been told on numerous occasions will probably remain a bachelor forever. Why would he be interested? I’m a bit of a mess...” Charlie had always been portrayed as a lone wolf, the least likely Weasley to get married, and most likely to die a bachelor. It was hard to imagine he’d suddenly take an interest in a relationship just because you were there.

“We all are. The war did a number on most of us...but you’re amazing and I know my brother. If he’s not already interested, he will be.” She bumps your shoulder with her own and for a moment she seems like the older one, the wise one...not you.

The two of you work together on the vegetable patch, talking about other things such as Harry and whether he’ll propose before Ginny does and her contract with the Holly Head Harpies. It’s nice, you think, as you take in a deep breath of fresh air before a cold wet feeling falls over you and you gasp in shock.

Your hair is dripping, you blink water away from your eyes, your clothing soaked as you look up to see a now empty bucket hovering above your head and a laughing George Weasley doubled over nearby. With a battle cry you run at your best friend and tackle him to the ground, grabbing your wand you cast aguamenti and a stream of water hits him straight in the face. It doesn’t take him long to throw you off and run away, but you watch as Ginny chases after him. Ron is watching with a gnome attached to his leg, his attempts to shake the little thing off don’t seem to be working. In all this excitement you forget that another Weasley was also present...that is until two arms wrap around your thick waist and pull you off the ground.

You barely have enough time to yell “Charlie!” Before a stream of water hits your face. You try not to laugh, lest you choke on the water, but it's hard to do so. Something about this whole situation just seems hilarious to you. Maybe it's your pitiful attempts to get free, not that you were trying especially hard, or maybe it's that it feels like it used to. Like things weren’t different. Like you were all still kids not war weary adults.

“Charlie!” You push away from him, managing to break free and immediately turn on him wand raised.

This water fight between you, Charlie, George, and Ginny, with the occasional complaint from Ron as he gets sprayed by water, continued until Mrs Weasley came out of the Burrow.

“Look at the lot of you! Inside, you best get dry and changed before you catch your death!”

You laugh lightly at the concern on Molly’s face as she ushers you all in with a tea towel in hand, most likely having been making lunch when she saw the lot of you soaked to the bone.

You look up at Charlie as he bumps your shoulder lightly and smiles down at you as he passes. You sigh lightly as he walks in front of you. It would be rather nice you think...to be Charlie’s girlfriend. Rather nice indeed.

Ginny giggles as she moves up to next to you, raising her eyebrows and smirking. You simply roll your eyes but can’t keep the smile off your face. Maybe she wasn’t wrong after all...

#summer nights #reader insert #readerinsert #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasleyxreader #charlie weasley/reader #charlie weasley / reader #harry potter #harry potter reader insert #plus size reader #overweight reader #female reader

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wouldpollyapprove · 4 years

Text

I’m Not Like Her: Part 2

Summary: Y/n never thought she’d take a job as a barmaid, but she had to do what she had to do. Fleeing from a mob in Aberdeen, she was willing to do anything to live a peaceful life. And if that meant working for the Shelby’s then so be it. Life was normal until the mob decided to make an appearance in Birmingham, leading Tommy start to believe Y/n wasn’t exactly who she said she was.

Thomas Shelby x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, violence, angst

A/N: I’m considering doing a third part for this, I don’t know why. I’m not sure what I would do but that’s only if you guys want me to. I hope to have a few headcanons out this week, so be looking for those. And I’ll be closing requests sometime this week.

Part One

Masterlist

God only knows how long Y/n sat in misery, tears staining her cheeks. No one cared to look down the alleyway to see a teary-eyed girl, crumpled against between the buildings. They’d all seen it before. For one reason or another, those on the street had caught girls with red puffy eyes, using the alley to shield them from the world. So, there Y/n sat, the only one feeling sorry for her was herself. No one cared about her problems, they all had their own.

The waterworks eventually stopped, their creator dehydrated and tired, and Y/n made her way home, tired of the filth surrounding her. The sun was starting to set and wind blew violently through the streets, a warning of an upcoming storm. She gave no mind to the weather, eyes to the ground, as the events of the last 24 hours played on repeat in her head. Looking back, there was little that could’ve been done to prevent any of it. If she’d been honest from the beginning about her life in Scotland, Tommy wouldn’t trust her just as he didn’t at that moment. Nothing could save her from that outcome. Truth nor lies could bring her peace.

Rain pounded the ground before she was halfway home. Those still on the street set a quicker pace, trying to keep from getting soaked, using newspapers and coats to shield themselves. Not Y/n, though. No, she let the water drowned out her surroundings, soaking her hair and clothes. There was no reason to rush home as it was.

Even miserable, she couldn’t help but smile when a long-forgotten memory resurfaced.

It was years ago, in Aberdeen, right after Roger had taken over his father’s company and all his time was spent at his office. The man had finally been able to find time to escape the clutches of business and out of the blue took Y/n on a picnic. When he wanted, Roger could be a romantic, a side few got to see, it was his best side. Up a hill, they went, near a pond surrounded by willows. The two watched ducks swim between reeds as they munched on their food until rain fell from the dangerously dark clouds above.

A shriek left Y/n’s lips when it started to come down in buckets. “We’ll never make it to the car unscathed,” she shouted and tried to pick up their plates.

Roger was already on his feet, love in his eyes. “Then how ‘bout ya dance with me?” A hand extended to his partner.

“I’d love to.” A bright smile on her lips as she took his hand, using him to help her up.

Only fools in love would dance in the rain, but neither cared how foolish they looked. Lovers rarely cared about anything but each other, the title of fool never crossed their mind. They danced, without music, to the beat of the rain. In that moment, they were the only two in the world, their problems washed away in the rain that.

If only there was someone to dance with her on the streets of Small Heath. Take away her pain and love her like a fool. Spin her around, step to the memory of any waltz that came to mind. But all alone she stood, soaked to the bone, as she trudged home. There was no love in this rainstorm, only misery.

In the safety of her home, Y/n didn’t bother to rid herself of her wet clothes. They were like a second skin at that point. She’s lost the chill feeling that set in during rain, numb to everything but her aching heart. Like a lost dog, she wandered around the house, seeking nothing in particular. Walking through the kitchen, she opened the fridge, nothing caught her eyes so she shut the door. In the parlor, all the books had already been read and there was never anything interesting on the radio. Her bedroom held nothing of interest. She wasn’t tired, didn’t want to change her clothes, didn’t want to do anything. She couldn’t sit in fear that her sorrows would drown her.

Like a ghost, she was on a loop, cycling through the three rooms. Each time, hoping something would catch her eye, pull her in. Nothing ever did.

And then there came a bang at the door.

Violent and demanding, again and again someone hit the wood. That was enough to pull her out of the trance she’d been in. Eyes wide in fear, Y/n stood in the threshold between the kitchen and parlor, uncertain if she should approach the door. First, she assumed it was merely thunder that struck the street outside, but it didn’t let up. Bang after bang, it continued. It was no thunder. It was a person, she had concluded, but there were no voices, no traces of who could be on the other side. She was certain that if it was someone she knew they would make themselves known.

Before she could make a move, a brutal force caused the door to swing open, hitting the wall on the other side. A scream was lodged in her throat as her eyes locked with the man who stood where the door had been. Tall and muscular, his green eyes glowed in rage. A smile that could have been friendly in a different light made him look like a predator after capturing its prey. Swallowing down her scream, Y/n realized how much like prey she looked. Cornered, small, pale, alone.

The perfect meal.

“No wonder Roger would kill for you,” the man snickered, eyes scanning her body. A shaky breath parted her lips, wishing she could curl up in a ball. The stranger’s intent was unclear, but she knew it wasn’t friendly.

Hands shaking, Y/n clasped them together, intertwining her fingers. “Whatever Roger did, it’s doesn’t involve me.” The words, meant to be confident and strong, came out meek and earned a laugh from her intruder.

He moved from the door, taking in his new surrounding. “I don’t believe that’s how that works, darling.” In the blink of an eye, he stood before her. Damn his long legs. Y/n sucked in a breath, urging her body to move, react. It failed her, doing nothing. “Roger will know better next time.” A rough hand grasped her jaw and pulled her close, a bruise already forming from the force. “And he will not forget this.”

Neither would Y/n when the man walked out the door, his name never learned, as her body shook, blood running down her cheek. Dazed, she made her way to the bathroom. A glance at the mirror in front of her, she saw the bruises that littered her skin from being thrown around the room, cuts from knives or rings. Y/n was no helpless girl, Roger taught her how to defend herself, but she was no match for the giant that had done all that. She was a mouse compared to that man.

There was no winning that fight.

Y/n didn’t tell Roger, didn’t bother calling picking up the phone. She cleaned herself up, wiping the dry blood from her damaged skin, and threw her torn clothes in the corner of the bathroom. It was better to pretend the assault had never happened than let Roger back into her life. Seeing him once for a few fleeting moments was good enough for her. There was no need to give him an excuse to stay around.

So, for a few days, Y/n stayed holed up in her apartment. There was enough food in the fridge to last her a while and enough money saved up to last her a few month’s rent. There was no need to search for a job when she looked like the apples at the fruit stand people never bought.

Peace, or what was closest to it, settled over her as Y/n spent her time baking and reading. Anything to distract her. But that couldn’t last, now could it? Not when the telephone in the parlor rang and she foolishly picked it up.

“Hello.”

“You need to come pick up your paycheck,” Harry told her, no kindness in his voice. Tommy clearly hadn’t kept his mouth shut about what he thought she was. A backstabber.

She sighed and played with the hem of her apron. “Can’t someone drop it off?” Her question was answered with a ‘no’. “Why not?”

“Tommy said you have to pick it up yourself.”

The line fell silent before another word could be said. Y/n groaned at the thought of walking through those pub doors again. She was smart enough to know that the whole Shelby family would probably be there to greet her, shove money in her hands, and tell her get the fuck out of Birmingham.

“What a fucking week,” she muttered as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t want to leave. Not because of some misunderstanding.

Clean clothes paired with freshly done hair, Y/n left her house to retrieve her paycheck. The walk was stressful, she wore a hat to conceal what her hair couldn’t, but she feared it wasn’t enough. There were no prying eyes, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel watched, ashamed from even stepping out the front door.

Finally upon her destination, she stared at the doors. A lamb to the slaughter, that’s what she felt like. She’d been kicked one too many times while down to feel like a lion. Like any animal that could stand upon another in victory. She was the field the mouse that ran from the hawk. The fly that flew straight into the spider’s web. The lamb that couldn’t escape slaughter. With all the courage she could muster, that being an ounce, Y/n took a deep breath and entered the pub, trying to forget about the lamb.

All conversations died when she stepped foot in the room, all eyes turned to her. There was no way she could meet anyone’s eyes, not when she knew what they thought of her. Tommy was against the bar, more focused on his drink than her, while his family threw looks of disgust at her. Not that she blamed any of them.

“I’m here for my paycheck.”

Polly rolled her eyes from where she sat at a booth with Esme. “Don’t know why you’d want to step foot in here now that we know what you are.”

“I asked her here, Pol,” Tommy told his aunt as he lite a cigarette. That earned him a groan from her, she was tired of his behavior when it came to women.

“I just want my paycheck,” she announced to the room. “Give it to me and I’ll leave. You’ll never have to-”

“Why?” Tommy interrupted her.

“Why what?”

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you talk to Roger?”

It was hard to bite back her laughter, a bit of it spilling between her teeth and out her lips. “He talked to me, Tommy, not that you cared to ask though. Him and I used to be something, but that was a long time ago. But I guess I don’t owe you any explanation as to why I was talking with him because you never cared to ask before,” she sneered and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Though it was a small piece, it was enough to expose a bruised patch of skin on her jaw and upper cheek. Once full of disgust, everyone’s eyes softened. Perhaps it was a mixture of her bitter words and her damaged appearance, but it shifted the mood of the room.

Tommy’s blue orbs, once ice-cold, warmed with concern. He stepped towards her out of instinct, “Who did this to you?” he asked, hand hovering by her cheek. He was desperate to touch her, feel her warm skin, and melt into her, but fear of rejection kept him from her.

She shrugged, the shame from the walk over boiled away from anger. “Doesn’t matter,” Y/n waved the question off. “It’s not your problem anymore.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” He threw his arms in the air, any thought of his family being in the room vanished. “Who did this?” He demanded.

Y/n couldn’t meet his eyes, instead, taking in the pub’s walls she’d looked at almost every day. They hadn’t changed, but they didn’t have eyes that could gaze into the soul, nor lips that could crush the heart. Walls, that’s all they were. Nothing but wood, nails, and paint. They could do no harm.

Perhaps the shame hadn’t gone away.

It sat dormant for a while as she felt like a lion, but once again she had become the mouse. The answer wasn’t one to fear, it was rather simple actually, but that wasn’t what kept it from her tongue. More than anything, she feared Tommy’s reaction. With the flip of a switch he could become a violent monster and she didn’t want to see that. She didn’t want to know the things he would do, the things he was capable of.

“Y/n,” his voice soft like honey pulled her gaze to him. She said nothing as his arms wrapped around her in an embrace. It was only minutes ago that he wanted nothing to do with her. “I should’ve talked to you instead of sent you away,” he whispered in her ear, hand rubbing her back. “I’m sorry for that. Now, please-” Tommy pulled away to see her face, the bruise on her jaw along with other small cuts clearly visible. “-tell me who did this?”

Not one for displays of affections, Y/n wanted to relish in the embrace for as long as she could. There was no telling when the man would do something like that again. But she knew that answer had to be given. “Someone Roger fucked over,” she muttered. “I don’t know his name, but none of that matters.”

A gentle finger lifted her chin, softer than the one that’d bruised her days before. “It does matter. Now, let’s get you a cup of tea and we’ll talk like we should have in the first place.”

*~~*~~*

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bangtan-madi · 4 years

Text

546 Days Without You — Twelve: Day 440

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 5.3k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 12 / 15

Warnings — minor language

A/N — highly recommend listening to "Soldier" by Taemin for this part (here's the link.) You'll cry buckets...not that I know from experience or anything...

Previous — Next

In less than a month, Seokjin keeps his promise. The moment you feel the plane begin to land, descending through the early morning fog that covers Incheon in a halo of peace, you're out of your seat and waiting by the gate. Sejin tries to convince you to sit, but as soon as your smile temporarily shifts into a glare, he backs off.

"Trust me, manager-nim," Jungkook laughs, "she's not sitting down."

"And if you try to make me, or in any way stop me from running off this plane to find Seokjin, I'll break your legs."

Jimin bursts out laughing at your angelic smile and fluttering eyelashes, adding the sickly sweet emphasis to your threat. Sejin gives you a thumbs-up as he rolls his eyes.

As the wheels hit the runway, you fish your phone from your pocket, instantly texting Seokjin. "Where are you?"

His reply is almost immediate: "Look out the window."

Doing as he requests, your grin widens. On the runway, standing in the dim light of sunrise, Seokjin waves his arms wildly. He's wearing civilian clothes — a black sweater paired with jeans and typical incognito gear: sunglasses and a beanie — something you haven't seen him wear in a long while. He looks healthy and happy.

True to your word, you burst through the door as the lock is released. Despite being on a private runway away from commercial planes, and BTS' return to Korea not being publicized, somehow reporters still find their way towards the aircraft. Luckily they haven't spotted the eldest member a little further back, but all that changes when you race down the exit ramp, push through the crowd, and bolt towards him. Arms open wide, feet taking you as fast as possible, you're careless in your show of emotion.

Seokjin closes the distance, scooping you into his embrace, off the ground, spinning around in the air. The sudden pressure of him against you is enough to break the dam of tears held inside. After spending a year and a half in a long-distance love — only able to speak through letters, texts, and calls — the fact that he's here in person catches you more off-guard than you thought it would. It's one thing to know he would be there waiting for you, but another thing entirely to have him in your arms, his warmth around you, his voice in your ear as he murmurs your name over and over.

When you finally pull back, Seokjin's hands cradle your face like it's the most tender thing he's ever held. His brown eyes are misty with emotion, and his lips stretch into a wide grin. "You're here..."

Nodding fervently, you place your fingers over his and close your eyes. Seokjin leans down and rests his forehead against yours, and the two of you finally feel the weight of 440 days fall away.

Even if just for a moment.

"I'm here."

As both of you attempt to close the distance, the flashing lights and barely-held-back noises of the media crowds not ten meters away is a rude reminder of how in the open you are. Despite being together for years, the world is mostly unaware of your relationship. Sure, there are theories floating around, but those come and go in differing forms. And honestly, because of your involvement with the boys, you've had a dating rumor with just about all of them.

That thought is enough to let you pause, bite your cheek, and settle back down from your tip-toes. Seokjin's eyes flutter closed in frustration, and he sighs heavily with similar emotion. Part of you regrets the agreement you made with each other — and the company — all those years ago. You were much younger, and the world was different. But now, would people really care so much if BTS' Jin was in a relationship with Min [Y/n]? Would it really wreck the group like Big Hit worried? Would Army really be that disappointed?

Surely, things have changed. In the year 2022, there has to be bigger things to worry about than two people being in love. When you shift your gaze to your peripheral vision, you see security keeping the nosey reporters at bay. Several of which you recognize from unpleasant events before. Despite your heart hurting at the thought of not being able to kiss him for a second longer, you know the hell that will break loose if you did. It having him means waiting another few minutes until you're in the privacy of the transport on its way to the airport, you can do that.

"Hey, look at me, Jagiya." Seokjin turns your face back towards his. As his eyes twinkle mischievously, his lips tug into a teasing smile. "I don't know about you, but I think I'm tired of hiding us."

Breath catching in your throat, you feel your lips part in surprise. "Are—Are you sure?" you whisper.

Your lover nods, and his thumbs graze the apples of your cheeks to emphasize his words. "If you are."

"And the company? The boys?"

"We've let their worries and concerns sway us for long enough, haven't we?" he murmurs. "This is our life. I'm tired of hiding it, hiding you, hiding us."

His words put your uneasiness to rest, and his soft whispers bring out a burst of bravery. Seokjin is right. You both have spent far too many years hiding your relationship from the world. All the time you've wasted worrying about appearances, or events, or the space between you both — both physically and other. He's one of the most important people in your life, and vice versa. You decide right then and there that there will never be another day that the whole world doesn't know that he is yours — and you are his.

Grasping the collar of his sweatshirt, you pull him down towards you. Despite displaying a smirk, Seokjin is eager to close the distance and cup your face closer to his. And in that moment, as your lips meet for the first time in over a year, your eyes flutter closed. The sounds and sights of shock around you, they're all irrelevant. All that matters here and now is you, and him, and this moment between you.

When you part, and your eyes flutter open once more, he's already pulling you into a tight embrace, nearly lifting your feet off the ground. "I missed you. So damn much."

Heart pitter-pattering at his words, you press your lips to the side of his head, spying a very shocked group of boys exiting the plane. Each of them looks a variant of happy but nervous, and Sejin's eyes are wider than you've seen in a while. All of you know that there's no going back now. It's all out in the open.

Good riddance to the damn secrets.

Jimin is the first to join the couple, his teeth showing as he gives a watery-eyed smile to Seokjin. "It's good to see you, Hyung." Seokjin releases you and embraces the younger member briefly. Jimin turns to you with a bittersweet look and a nickname on his lips: "C'mon, Aein. We need to go."

The exit is less than ideal. With the paps surrounding the airport, they've gotten wind of Seokjin's presence and the outburst of romantic affections between him and Min [Y/n]. They were hungry for a story before; needless to say your actions have added a shit-ton of fuel to the fire.

The ride back to the dormitory is quiet, mostly filled with soft conversation amongst the members in the car. Since Hoseok and Namjoon's enlistment is later in the week, both they and you take the car with Seokjin; the maknaes kindly offered to ride with Sejin in the following vehicle.

Your lover doesn't spare any details of his time with the military. He shares about what he's been up to recently, and how the new promotion has loosened his schedule a lot. He says he's enjoying the work surprisingly, but he is relieved to be all but three-and-a-half months done with his conscription.

When you arrive home, everyone is quick to dart into the dorms, eager to avoid any further press coverage. Sejin follows the group into the building, and you know he's going to have to play damage control for the following few days. It doesn't make you regret the decision, despite the inconvenience; you know Seokjin feels the same way when he squeezes your hand reassuringly and presses his lips to your forehead.

Once inside, everyone reunites the proper way. Hugs and laughter fill the space, each as eager as the last to embrace Bangtan's oldest brother. Hair is ruffled, giggles are drawn out, and Jungkook makes a show of picking up both Hoseok and Seokjin as they greet each other. All in all, the joy in the room is palpable; you can feel it around you like a warm blanket.

For a moment, everything is like it was before he left. All the pieces are back, and while you know Yoongi is still gone, you know his spirit is among the group tonight. You smile to yourself as you watch the boys' greetings turn to playful tussling, imagining Yoongi standing in the doorway behind you. In your mind, you see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, voice filled with breathy laughter at their shenanigans.

And with that image in mind, everything is as it should be.

Sejin waits quietly in the hallway as the group reunites; after a few minutes, and after everyone has settled down, he enters the living room. He gives Seokjin a pleasant smile, clearly glad to see him again. Seokjin stands, bows, and greets their manager like an hyung, and someone worthy of respect.

"I don't want to take too much time from you all," Sejin sighs, glancing sideways towards you. "But as the manager, I feel I need to at least address what just happened."

"We finally stopped lying to the world and hiding ourselves," you defend, and Seokjin's hand wraps around your wrist.

"Was that really the best idea? They didn't even know Seokjin was there, let alone that you two were together. We're going to be bombarded with questions from the press and the fans collectively. It's all they're going to want to hear from us for weeks." Sejin runs a hand over his face. "I know it's been a difficult decision to live with—"

"—Do you?" you snap, only realizing after-the-fact that it could sound rude with the tone you used.

"Honestly," Namjoon pipes up from the opposite sofa, "no one will care by the weekend. Once they get wind of our enlistment," he nods to Hoseok, "that's all that will be in the news. It will catch them all off-guard."

"And then we can deal with the questions as they come," Seokjin states firmly, his hand on your wrist tugging you into his arms and onto his lap. He rests his chin on your shoulder, sighing as if relieved to have you close again. "It's been almost five years, Manager-nim. When were we going to be able to be out like normal people?"

Sejin's gaze lowers. "Like it or not, you all aren't normal people."

"Yes, we are," Jungkook argues, his usually soft face firm with determination. "We're normal twenty-somethings, and we deserve happiness and love, no matter what form that takes. God knows Yoongi's lovers haven't been limited to women, and the fact that any of us date at all has always been an issue. But...But..."

"We're adults, and we deserve this," Taehyung echoes his younger member, putting a hand on Jungkook's shoulder.

Hoseok laughs to himself, and when everyone looks his way, he shakes his head and says, "We're Bangtan. We've been the biggest group in South Korea — and some can argue, the world — for nine years. If it ends up being that all of us finding someone to care about and spend the rest of our lives with — like Hyung and [Y/n] — is what causes our fame to temper and disappear, then I think I can be okay with that. Army wants us to be happy. Good people, the company who cares about us and the families we cherish, want us to be happy."

"We've had a good run being everyone's boys," Jimin agrees. "Maybe it's time we are true to ourselves for once."

"And let the world follow suit," Namjoon poetically concludes.

Sejin, though clearly still bothered by the prospect, nods his head in agreement. "This is going to be a fun one to explain to Bang PD, but as always, I'll plead your case."

"No pleading, and no case," you state. "This is the decision. They can get behind it, or they can find another Bangtan."

The manager chuckles under his breath, shaking his head at the victorious grin on your face. "Aish, what am I going to do with all of you?"

"Maybe protect us from Bang PD-nim," Seokjin suggests with a signature laugh. "I think I'll avoid the headquarters for this return trip."

"Oh, lucky you!"

After Sejin says his goodbyes for the night, the group continues to talk, eat, and drink late into the night and into the early hours of morning. Games are played, stories are told, semi-drunken dares are taken that lead to as much commotion and laughter as anything you've had since prior to your lover and brother's departures. Much of it is filmed or photographed for Yoongi's benefit. Between you, Taehyung, and Jungkook, you get enough footage to send to the only absent member to keep him entertained for endless days. It eases the weight of his empty chair for all the members, including his baby sister.

Eventually, one by one, the boys start to peel away and head back to their respective rooms. Taehyung and Hoseok are the first to leave, forever being the lightweights when it comes to even the most insignificant amount of alcohol. An hour later, Jimin and Jungkook help each other to their beds. Namjoon stays up the latest with you and Seokjin, having not had very much to drink between the three of you other than a glass or two of wine.

After a deep and intellectual conversation about who would win, Mario or Anpanman, the leader announces his exit and gives you both a clumsy smile and wave. "Don't stay up too late."

"Okay, Eomma," you tease, swatting his arm as he passes you. Namjoon chuckles as he heads up the stairs, leaving you and Seokjin alone to yourselves.

There's a beat of silence, and then you're tugging him closer to you, giggling as you press your mouth to his. Seokjin is just as eager, tugging you from your spot on the sofa beside him onto his lap. His hands rest on your waist as yours tangle in his short black hair. A sigh of relief slips out as he pulls you against him, closing the distance to almost nothing.

The last year, the communication aspect of your relationship had suffered little. Between the letters and calls and video chats, you heard and saw each other every single day. However, the physical portion of your love has been kept at bay for too many months. To touch and feel and kiss and embrace each other -- you hadn't been able to do that for a long time.

And it shows.

Breathless, Seokjin pulls back, chest heaving, a grin tugging at his lips. "I'm going to turn sappy, but you have no idea how often I'd imagined this."

"I figured it was the best way to get across how I've felt," you shrug playfully. "I can be fumbly with my words sometimes."

"Until you write music," he laughs, causing you to capture his mouth in another kiss. "You're gonna have to sing it for me sometime."

"I've sung it a million times for you."

"Over the phone isn't the same."

On that, you can agree.

"We have a week," you grin, tugging on the strands at the base of his neck. "I think I can do that for you."

Seokjin's gaze softens, and he pulls you back in, gently cradling your face in his palms. The warmth of him is almost intoxicating, something you haven't felt in over a year. You never knew you could miss the feel of someone so much, but having a long-distance love has proven that it's harder than you thought. Worth it, but nevertheless difficult.

The kisses that follow are sweet and soft, a bit calmer than the ones a few minutes ago. Moving your hands to his shoulders, you let him lead you to a familiar dance. After so many years together, there's not much either of you can do to surprise the other anymore. You've memorized each other's movements, and you know his love like the back of your hand. You'd heard it said that love that predictable might get stale after a while, but the truth is far from that. Not to say that you can foresee everything he does, but every word he says, every choice he makes, every move he does is wrapped in an aura of familiarity. You find immense comfort in knowing that the person you care about, and who cares about you, is true to himself. Always. Seokjin has become a pillar in your life, and you honestly cannot imagine a future without him in it.

After a moment, Seokjin pulls back, averting his eyes from yours. There's a strange look on his face, one of hesitation and questioning. It's not something you'd expect to see tonight of all nights.

"What is it?" you murmur, tapping your finger against his nose to get his attention. The tiny gesture is enough to bring his focus back on you. "You look distracted."

His brown eyes crinkle at the corners, his smile returning as you tilt your head in an animated fashion. He's told you a million times how cute he finds the movement, and it always brings a smile to his face. "I've just...really missed you, [Y/n]. A lot."

"Mmm, nope. That's not it." You shake your head and pull further away, plopping down on the cushion beside him while still keeping one arm wrapped around his shoulders to minimize the distance. "I can tell, and you're not getting any more of this," you gesture to yourself, "until you fess up, Kim."

Seokjin rolls his eyes and places his hand over your thigh, encouraging you to link your leg over his lap. You allow him that much, having always enjoyed the little touch...but you'll never tell him that. "You're so difficult, y'know that?"

You flash a wide smile, dancing your fingers along the base of his neck. "But seriously, what's going on? You got real quiet, real fast."

"I shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what?"

Your lover's expression falls slightly, and his gaze moves away from yours to stare straight ahead. "Say anything."

"Why not?"

He heaves a sigh, "Because I'm afraid the time isn't right, and that saying what's on my mind is going to make things worse for us both."

You reach over, take his face in your hands, and force him to face you. "Don't do that," you state sternly. "I want you to tell me everything. We've never kept things from each other before, and I'm not about to start now. Bad timing or difficulty or what-the-fuck-ever: I don't care. Tell me what's on your mind. I got you, Seokjinnie."

Seokjin's worry softens, replaced by mild amusement as you release his face. "You know I love you, right?"

"Very much," you reply, heat rising into your face. "And I love you, too."

His signature grin returns as he leans in, presses his lips against yours for a brief moment, and pulls away. As he clears his throat, he shifts his body to face yours, sitting cross-legged on the sofa. His hand remains on your knee

"I know the timing isn't ideal. I know I still have time left to be away. I know this probably seems like it's coming from out of nowhere, but I'm not lying when I tell you it's been on my mind since the day I left. I—I almost asked you then, but I knew it wasn't the perfect time. Now I realize that no time is ever is, and the thought of leaving again without getting an answer...I can't do that again. So, if you'll allow me, can I ask you a very important question, [Y/n]?"

You remain still, heartbeat slowly picking up speed. Somehow, you're not afraid, and you give him a sure nod. "Of course."

Seokjin takes in a deep breath, then exhales even slower. His eyes close and open with his breathing, and he takes your hands in his own. His thumbs graze your knuckles, crooked finger clasping yours with a tender touch. You dip your head lower to catch his averted gaze, flashing a small smile to reassure him that you're listening. Your lover straightens his shoulders, expression softening into the adorable smile that always gives you butterflies, and he begins to speak.

"I know you're not the fondest of white — or dresses — but will you give me the chance to see you in one?" Seokjin tugs a small box from his pocket, pops it open, and reveals a simple yet gorgeous ring adorned with a single black diamond. "Marry me?"

Your jaw slacks at the gesture, and your eyes flicker back and forth between the ring in his hand and the nervous look on his face. A million things were flying through your mind, but they're all silent now. And in your state of awestruck, you find yourself asking a stupid question: "You really mean it?"

Seokjin throws his head back, an exasperated sound--a mix between a laugh and a sigh--slipping out. "Ahh, Jagiya! Would I have asked if I didn't?"

You throw your hands up in defense. "Look, since I was younger I never thought this was going to be my future, okay? I never thought...I didn't think I could let anyone in this close. It never occurred to me that I could be the girl who gets married."

"Is that a no?" he retorts quickly.

"No!"

"Wait, really?"

"No, that's not a no!" You cover your face with your hands, wanting nothing more than to bang your head against a wall. Seokjin is trying to be sweet and romantic, as usual--and as usual, you're ruining it. "Fucking hell."

"I didn't think it was such a difficult question," he chortles, "but if you need time, just let me know."

You drop your hands swiftly, locking eyes with him, and uttering a single word. "No."

"No, as in you have an answer? Or no, as in you n—?"

"—Yes. That first one."

"And the answer is...?"

"Yes."

He freezes. "Yes?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, a smile growing across your face. "Do I need to scream it louder?"

"I mean, we can get to that, too," he chides with a smirk.

Giving a playful eye roll, you shake off his comment with a simple retort: "Just give me the damn ring, Kim Seokjin."

He does as you ask, taking the ring from the velvet casing and slipping it onto your left ring finger. As he does, he voices a whisper of a concern, the final murmur of a nearly forgotten fear. "You're serious about this, right?"

Staring down at the glinting jewel, you reply, "I'm more serious about this than anything." Your gaze shifts up to meet his, and you raise your other hand to caress the side of his face. "I love you."

The brunet's smile widens and he leans into your touch, his fears put to ease for the final time. "I love you, too."

"Prove it."

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Seokjin stands to his feet, scoops you into his arms, and starts the trek towards the bedroom, both of you giddy and giggly the entire way.

The next few days are bliss. Between the news you're eager to share with the boys, to the outings in Seoul with the group finally back together, it's hard not to look to the future with hope and wonder again. Even though Namjoon and Hoseok are preparing for their conscription at the end of the week, this week feels so much easier than the one prior to Seokjin's departure. That one was a mess of emotions; somehow, you're taking this one much easier.

Each of the members' reactions to the news of the engagement was perfectly in character. You and Seokjin had broken it to them the next morning after Jimin spotted the glittery addition to your ring finger. He was also the first to put it together, placing his hands over his mouth with widening eyes and a breathy gasp. Jungkook and Taehyung tilted their heads, then grinned like idiots when you announced in a high-pitched voice, "Guess who's officially joining the Kim clan!"

Hoseok dropped his spoon into his cereal bowl and stumbled over his words, while Namjoon blinked back and forth between you both. And you know that if Yoongi were here, he'd be laughing at all of them.

Everyone makes the best of the time you have together. There's definitely a trip to Lotte World, where your fiance and best friend hold tight to each of your hands the entire rollercoaster ride, and where Jungkook eats too much cotton candy and makes himself nearly sick. the day after that, Seokjin, Hoseok, and Namjoon's families travel to Seoul to see their sons, one before he returns to the military and two before they enlist. Everyone meets at Jiwoo's home downtown, being the perfect central location for a multi-family reunion. While there were some tears shed, it does your heart good to see that most of the day and late into the night is spent in joyful company, full of laughter and great stories.

You also make it a point to get the band under the same roof for a hearty meal and karaoke the night before Namjoon and Hoseok's departure, just like the good old days. This particular tradition is owed to Kim Seokjin alone. Even when Bangtan was just beginning, and there wasn't a lot of money to go around, you always admired that Seokjin encouraged mealtimes to be a constant pillar of support. He'd cook up a feast, and it brought everyone closer in those turbulent first years. It's something you continue to do as a group, even as a company at times, to this very day. Namjoon is his usual self, breaking one of the mics halfway through his epic performance, and Taehyung and Hoseok have a rap battle on one of their childhood favorites. The final night leaves everyone in a lighter mood than they've been in in months.

That night sets the mood for the next day. You wake next to Seokjin, knowing immediately what's about to happen. You'd slept terribly, despite feeling much more at ease than last time. It's still a goodbye, even if just for a little while, and you'll miss the '94s terribly. You'll miss Namjoon's unconventional wisdom and passive sense of humor, but also the peace and clarity he brings to every situation he's in. You'll miss Hoseok's lighthearted nature and sunshine outlook on life, but also the care and motherly warmth he exudes. They might be your brother's bandmates, but they were as much your brothers as they were his.

Having said that, this goodbye is easier. The event leading up to the departure goes well, and luckily the reporters were none the wiser at their conscription date and location. Both of the elder members are at peace with the situation, and this car ride isn't as silent as the last. Even as you pull up to the training facility, you can feel your heart pang against your ribs. Seokjin keeps a calming hand on your waist the whole time.

When it's time for final farewells, they aren't as bitter as last time. Seokjin and the maknaes huddle around the boys, encasing them in the biggest group hug they can manage. Their families also give them tight embraces, Namjoon's mother getting teary eyed, and Hoseok's sister pinching her little brother's cheek in a sentimental way.

When it comes time for you to say goodbye, you bring them both in at once, one arm around each of their necks. They crane over to hug you back, and you feel a sigh escape from both of them.

"I'll miss you," you murmur.

"Write to us, okay?" Namjoon asks, patting your back soothingly.

Nodding into his shoulder, you chuckle, "Can't promise it'll be as eloquent as you, but I'll write as often as I can."

"If we're lucky enough that our letters make it to them on tour," Hoseok laughs.

"Mail them to Sejin, and he'll get them to us somehow. The man is a magician." You pull away and glance up at the members, giving both a watery smile. "Be safe, promise?"

They mirror your request, and after a few final words, they're called back to the group and escorted off to their comrades. Even as they disappear from sight, you lean against Jiwoo's shoulder, knowing how it feels to see your brother walking through those doors.

"It gets easier," you murmur.

She nods affirmatively, heaving a heavy sigh. "I know it will. Just hurts right now."

After a short intermission, everyone begins to go their separate ways. The families return to their homes, and the maknaes go back to the dorms.

Seokjin and you head to your private apartment, shuffling through the door with silence as a companion. Your fiance reaches for your hand and twists his fingers around yours, keeping you from heading further through the dark corridor.

"Are you okay?"

Turning towards him, you heave a sigh and nod once. "Yeah, surprisingly, I'm okay this time."

"Are you sure?"

"You can still tell when I'm bothered, can't you?"

Seokjin's smile is soft as he flips the light switch, bringing the apartment back into the light. "Of course. I just...wanted to make sure." He shrugs his shoulders. "It's just you and the maknaes now."

A bittersweet expression covers your face, and you rest your chin on his arm, staring up at him. "We can handle it. Got a plan and it'll only be for a few more months until you and Yoongi are back. I mean, I don't like it, and I miss them already, but I don't think it's going to break me anymore. I'm braver and stronger now."

"I know. I've seen the change, and I'm really proud of you, Min [Y/n]." He presses a kiss to your hairline, and his voice softens. "Really, really proud."

Scrunching up your nose at the sickly sweet compliment and gesture, you pull away and tug his hand, as if telling him to come with you. "Having said that, I'm hungry and tired. All I want right now is some teokbokki, something nostalgic like Princess Mononoke, and cuddles. And preferably, for the rest of the weekend. I don't want to think about saying another goodbye right now, no matter how temporary."

Seokjin's infectious laughter fills the room, and he follows your lead towards the kitchen. "Well, we can definitely arrange that." He pulls you back into him, using your eagerness against you, and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His arms wrap around your torso, cradling your back against his chest. "Until the weekend is over, you have me."

"Then hold me until it is, promise?"

"I've already made the promise that lasts a lifetime. I think I can handle one more weekend.”

Taglist — @joyful-jimin, @gracehiii, @live-2-fangirl, @rjsmochii, @btsnatalena

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specterchasing-a · 3 years

Text

Sucker Punch || Alfie & Eddie

TIMING: The day after I Swear It’s The Truth

LOCATION: Eddie’s apartment, downtown White Crest

PARTIES: @yikesimonfire and @specterchasing

SUMMARY: Nothing will ever be the same for Alfie and Eddie, and now they know why.

CONTENT: Internalized homophobia tw, homophobia tw, emotional abuse tw

(This is an emotionally heavy thread. Let one of us know if you need a summary.)

It wasn’t often that Alfie found himself at Eddie’s apartment. For the most part, the time they spent together was almost exclusively at his place. Even when he dog-sat Bucket, the pomeranian was dropped off at Alfie’s. He never complained. In fact, it was more convenient that way, even when he was decidedly too busy to entertain guests. But things were different now. Bex was in the picture; not as one of Eddie’s friends, but his girlfriend. Not even 24 hours in, Alfie was struggling with the concept. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. It should have been fine. He should have been happy for him — he wasn’t. The thought made him sick.

He thought about cancelling. Throughout the day, Alfie composed several messages to his friend as a means to get out of their plans, but he couldn’t bring himself to hit send. He couldn’t back out. Not now; not on Eddie. Not when the plans were made before the events of last night. So he persevered. He wanted to be a good friend, no matter how much emotional distress he was in; no matter how many silent tears he shed before finally falling asleep.

Taking a deep breath, Alfie rapped his fist against the door to Eddie’s apartment, the sound causing him to flinch. He didn’t exactly know why he knocked. The front door was unlocked. Alfie knew that. After a moment of hesitation, Alfie managed to still his trembling hands long enough to crack the door open and slip in, mindful enough to not let Bucket bolt out of the door at his arrival.

“Hey,” he called out. “Just me.” Obviously. Who else would it be? Bex, maybe, if the time hadn’t been reserved specifically for Alfie. He didn’t want to think about that.

Until last night, Eddie didn’t know how much change a single kiss could bring about. He felt disoriented, partially because the knots in his stomach kept him from getting any sleep. It didn’t make any sense. He should be happy. He wanted to be happy. Instead, he felt worse than before. Alfie’s reaction to finding out about him and Bex didn’t add up. He sounded distant, disappointed even, as if Eddie having a girlfriend changed something between them. That was a line of thought Eddie decided against pursuing as bile gurgled in his stomach. He didn’t want things to change.

Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door followed by the sound of Bucket’s paws skittering across the living room floor. He only did that for one person, the man in question, Alfie. Eddie half-expected him to cancel after the way he acted last night. Realizing he assumed wrong, his heart leapt into his throat before plummeting into his stomach to be eroded by the crashing waves of acid. Why didn’t his heart leap like that for Bex? Never mind, he didn’t want to know.

“Hey!” Eddie called out from his office, rising from his chair to meet his visitor. At the sight of Alfie, Eddie’s heart thumped pitifully as it drowned. “Fancy seeing you here.” He tried acting casual. Fake it ‘till you make it. “Everything’s all set up, even brought in an extra chair.” Why did he leave the office in the first place? Alfie knew the layout of his apartment, he would’ve made it there fine without him. Did he really need to see him so badly that a few more seconds of waiting would hurt? So many questions and not a single answer he wanted to acknowledge.

“Warning you now,” he said, walking back to where he’d come from. “It’s boring. All we’ll be doing is staring at my face and deciding what can go.” Eddie plopped into his chair, rolling back a few inches from the force. “You sure you wanna subject yourself to this?” Please say yes.

The sight of Bucket rounding the corner to meet him at the door gave Alfie a momentary rush of relief. A sense of normalcy, although fleeting. He crouched down to stroke behind Bucket’s ears as Eddie came into view. His heart lurched at the sight of him. It shouldn’t have. He wished it didn’t. Yet there Eddie was, beaming at him like everything was fine — or at least, almost. There was a sadness twinkling in his eyes that Alfie couldn’t quite place. It didn’t make sense. Surely, he must have imagined it.

“I could say the same to you. Come here often?” Alfie foolishly flirted. Stupid. He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. What was happening to him? He wasn’t usually like this. Or, if he was, he wasn’t usually so aware of it. But even now, standing in Eddie’s apartment, chittering off cliche pick-up lines, there was a stark contrast between Alfie’s tone and the look on his face. He tried to smile — to pretend that everything was normal — but his features mirrored the same despondency he could have sworn he saw in Eddie’s.

Without another word, Alfie trailed behind him to the home office, wriggling his fingers and clicking his tongue for Bucket to follow. At least he had Bucket. Even if he was about to subject himself to spending hours staring at Eddie’s face on the computer screen, the pooch served as a welcome distraction.

“I doubt it’s boring,” Alfie retorted. He wanted to say that he didn’t mind staring at his face. To take his words out of context and insist that none of it ‘needed to go’. Not only would that have been uncharacteristic of their friendship, it would have made Alfie seem pathetic. Instead, he eased himself into the spare chair next to Eddie, careful to keep his distance. “Absolutely. I’m eager to see your, uh… process.” Had he said that nearly verbatim last night? Shit.

And there they were, standing face to face in mutual mourning over something that never existed in the first place. Or, did it? Eddie had to wonder. Grief like this didn’t appear out of thin air. He had a girlfriend now, did that come with a hidden cost? If he looked at the fine print, should he expect to see Alfie’s name crossed out? When he kissed Bex, it didn’t occur to him that the average life he wanted so badly might exclude the one person he thought he couldn’t lose. The dejection written on his best friend’s face registered immediately, years of memorizing his expressions and the meanings behind them made it obvious.

“Cute,” Eddie quipped, trying to pair the word with a laugh, but it came out hollow. He didn’t know he could miss someone standing only a few feet away from him. Deep within his chest, he felt something awful clawing its way up. If it managed to reach his throat and break free, he knew regret would quickly follow.

“Mm,” Eddie hummed skeptically as he pushed his hair away from his face, hands shaking as he did. His chair scooted forward, closer to the desk. Even when he wasn’t looking at Alfie, he was imagining his face. He tried removing the sadness from his eyes, but it didn’t work. He struck a key and an application opened. “So,” he started, clearing his throat. “This is Premiere, it’s the, uh,” Eddie trailed off, blinking at the computer screen. It wouldn’t come into focus. “It’s the editing software that I use,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Adobe, y’know.” What was he saying?

Eddie pushed back from the desk and brought his hands up to his face, letting them slide down a moment later. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He needed a moment to regain control, he couldn’t let Alfie see him like this. “I haven’t taken my meds yet, it’s making it impossible to focus. Give me just a sec,” he explained as he stood up and slipped past Alfie, leaving the office in pursuit of his bedroom.

He closed the door behind himself and pressed his back to it. Eddie stressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and let out a pitiful, but quiet sob. “Why are you so fucking useless?” he berated himself internally. “Get it together, it’s just Alfie. It’s just Alfie.” The words repeated in his head, an endless loop, never successfully convincing him. His hands fell to his sides and he straightened up. If he kept acting like this, the chances of Alfie leaving would skyrocket. He needed to keep him there for as long as he could. Eddie shook out his arms and bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to get his blood pumping. A sharp exhale escaped his nose. He could do this.

Eddie waltzed back into the office and reclaimed his chair. “Okay, where was I?” He gripped the mouse, sounding more invigorated than he had before. “Right, Premiere. It’s expensive, confusing, and constantly crashes, but we love disappointment in this house.” A video opened on-screen, a mirror image of Eddie. He turned his chair to face Alfie, their knees brushing in the process. He tried to ignore it.

“You want the whole editing process, right? Technically, it starts as soon as I have an idea for a video. You always plan a concept with editing in mind,” Eddie explained, his hands falling limply in his lap. “Camera angles, movements, position, all of that should be mostly figured out before filming starts. But, uh, I’ll ease up on the behind the scenes talk and get to the feature presentation. We’re gonna have to watch this about 10 times, so,” Reaching towards the desk, he hit play on the video. His voice played through the speakers, spilling information about fae. “Someone actually warned me against making this one,” he mused. “Something about dire consequences. People are so dramatic.”

This wasn’t right. None of it was right. Clearly, Alfie’s behavior was affecting Eddie. Even last night, he called him out for being quiet. Just tired, Alfie had responded. He tried to cheer up, to act like the news didn’t eat him up inside. But it was easier to hide in a world of pixels and code than it was being next to him. “I’m vaguely familiar with Premier, if that helps,” he said monotonously; a desperate attempt to encourage Eddie to push forward. It didn’t help.

In an instant, Eddie was rattling off an excuse about his medication and removing himself from the office altogether. “Yeah, sure. Take your time,” Alfie murmured, his voice breaking in the process. His eyes — and Bucket — followed Eddie out of the room. Suddenly, he was alone. Even as Bucket strolled back into the office, giving Alfie a confused head-tilt and a pitiful gaze, Alfie was alone.

“What?” Alfie questioned the ginger ball of fluff. Bucket’s tail thumped against the floor, eliciting an exasperated sigh from Alfie. “You have no idea, do you? Not a single clue.” Not one brain cell was firing off behind the dog’s eyes. “You’re lucky,” he added.

Coming here had been a mistake. He could probably still leave — slip out the door while Eddie was gone. But Alfie couldn’t bring himself to budge from the chair. Instead, he sat in silence and watched Bucket watching him.

Before long, Eddie returned. His gaze didn’t meet Alfie’s as he elected to focus on the monitor instead and dive straight back into where he’d left off. Ignoring the fact that Eddie’s meds were not immediately effective, Alfie turned in his seat to give the other man his undivided attention. He had to put on a brave face; he didn’t have any other choice. But then Eddie’s face was on display. He seemed happier in the still shot. There was passion behind his brilliant eyes, and it made Alfie’s heart swoon. He stared longingly at the image on screen, interrupted only by Eddie’s knees brushing his as he turned towards him.

Alfie swallowed the knot in his throat, glancing down at the space between them. Making eye-contact would be a mistake. There was no hiding the vacant gloss of his eyes, no matter how hard he tried. “Just… pretend I’m not here, if that helps,” his voice wavered. Alfie looked back up at the screen when Eddie started the video. Please pretend I’m not here, he thought, catching a mere glimpse of his friend’s face in the screen’s reflection. Two entirely different faces greeted him.

Nervously, Alfie ran his tongue across his bottom lip. His hands clasped tightly together in his lap. “Like that’s ever really stopped you in the past,” he absentmindedly chided. This was going to be absolute torture.

It felt unfair, seeing Alfie in so much pain while working hard to keep his own out of sight. At the same time, it felt familiar, but that only made it worse. Eddie, in a desperate attempt to keep people close, became a stranger to himself. Put on a show, keep them entertained, but don’t let them know what’s lurking beneath the surface; they’ll love you less. And Alfie did love him, he knew that now, which was also unfair.

“Don’t,” Eddie pleaded softly, gazing at the ground for a moment before an unprecedented surge of irritation flooded his mind. “I didn’t know, okay? How could I?” Either Alfie would understand what he was referring to, or he wouldn’t. In a way, he preferred the latter option.

“The first time I came into your apartment through the balcony, it was because you wouldn’t answer the door. And I think that pretty much sums up our entire friendship.” Anguish settled in his eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to fight it. “I turn my music up too loud because I know you’ll message me to complain. I bribe you to spend time with me. I do whatever it takes to get you to notice me.” His chest heaved with every breath. Eddie didn’t like being so honest, so vulnerable, but he didn’t deserve to be cast as the villain in this scenario.

“The past few months have been a little different, I didn’t need to work so hard, and I’ve always thought it was worth the effort, anyway. I know how you are, you’re not loud like me, you need a little convincing. That’s fine, I like that about you sometimes, but if you do this…” Eddie gestured at the way Alfie held himself. “If you make me feel guilty for having something in my life that doesn’t revolve around you, then I…” He trailed off, biting back tears as they formed in his eyes.

“I just wish you’d take a second, one second, to look at me and notice that you’re not the only one who's scared. Alfie, you are so important to me in ways you don’t even realize. Ways that I can’t make sense of without throwing my entire world off its axis, and that’s why I need this to work with Bex. With her, it’s simple—it’s expected. So, just… I can’t ask you to be happy about it but, for my sake, try to understand that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

Don’t. The word shook Alfie to his core. At that moment, he knew he fucked up. His shoulders tensed — his entire body did, actually. He was frozen, still locked onto the computer screen and staring straight past Eddie. Leave it to Eddie to see right through him. He anticipated a lashing of reproach; that Eddie was disappointed in his behavior. That’s exactly what he got, tenfold.

Alfie tore his eyes away from the monitor as he shifted his gaze to finally look at Eddie; a look of pure bewilderment. His thoughts began to run rampant as he processed what was being said. With each line came a blow to his gut and Alfie’s throat constricted, forbidding him to speak. But he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. Not when Eddie very plainly laid his grievances out on the table for Alfie to see. “If you make me feel guilty for having something in my life that doesn’t revolve around you, then I…” Guilty. He made him feel guilty. All because Alfie couldn’t bring himself to pretend for one goddamn second that he was happy for Eddie. Because he was consumed with jealousy over a relationship that was “simple” and “expected”.

After a painstaking lull, it was Alfie’s turn to speak; to say something — anything — that might smooth things over. An apology would have been a good place to start. But “I’m sorry” were not the words that came out.

“You think it’s easy for me?” Alfie scoffed, choking on the knot that threatened to suffocate him and forcing back the tears brimming in his own eyes. “That I haven’t even considered how I’ve made you feel over the years? How horrible I’ve been to you because I couldn’t deal with—” It didn’t matter that Eddie had pieced it together; he still couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud. “What do you have to be afraid of, anyway? That I’d try to hold your hand? Or, god forbid, kiss you?”

Eddie didn’t deserve the backlash he was receiving from Alfie. Nor did he deserve to be saddled with the responsibility of carrying their entire friendship. But Alfie was terrified to face the reality that they were both now painfully aware of. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry I ever tried to push you away. I’m sorry I’m not happy for you and Bex. I’m sorry, Eddie.” An errant tear ran down Alfie’s cheek and he flicked it away with a terse laugh.

“I didn’t ask for this. I tried so hard to not— to not feel the way I do about you. I’m still trying. But I look at you and I—” Alfie cut himself off by biting his bottom lip. It wouldn’t do any good. Nothing he said was going to change the fact that Eddie would never reciprocate his feelings. He made it evident that he couldn’t be what Alfie wanted him to be — his own words. “I’m sorry,” he reiterated, once again unable to meet Eddie’s gaze. “I’m trying, really. I want you to be happy.”

Over the past few months, Eddie and Alfie reached a new level of closeness. As Alfie became more receptive to him, Eddie realized how thin their boundaries were becoming. It terrified him how much he liked the idea, so much so that his only option was running away. Enter Bex. He thought the answer to all of his problems started with her, but Alfie proved him wrong when he plunged into a comeback diatribe.

At the mention of physical affection, Eddie bolted upright and out of his chair. He needed to put distance between them. His legs carried him to the farthest corner of the room, which still felt too close. Alfie didn’t do well with subtext, he should have known better than to rely on it to get his point across, but the idea of openly admitting to how he felt made his chest tighten.

A barrage of apologies hit him in quick succession as he nervously combed his hair out of his face. Eddie couldn’t let Alfie think he was afraid of him, not even to save himself.

“I’ve never been afraid of what you might do, Alfie.” His voice shook as he gave his confession. “What I’m afraid of is that I’ll like it.” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, as if bracing himself for whatever came next. “You’re not the monster here, I am.” He wanted this to be easy, but shards of glass lined his throat in the wake of truth.

“Neither of us asked for this.” Eddie found it impossible to look at Alfie. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on a gap in the wood flooring. “But it happened anyway.”

Alfie was certain that he’d hit the nail on the head as soon as Eddie shirked away to the other side of the room at the notion of romantic advancements. Between the two of them, Eddie was always the one to initiate physical contact. It was never intimate; Alfie knew better than to believe it ever could be, and his friend’s present reaction only solidified this theory. If Eddie felt the need to withdraw himself from the situation, he wasn’t going to stop him. He didn’t move in his chair or turn his head to follow his movements. He stayed put, staring at the space the other man previously occupied. In fact, Alfie was so convinced that he was correct in his assumption that Eddie’s next words gave him whiplash.

Afraid that he would like it?

Bewildered, Alfie shifted in his seat to face Eddie. His eyes desperately tried to search a face that couldn’t bear to look at him. It was impossible for Alfie to discern the truth behind these statements without proper facial cues. He was forced to take Eddie’s words at face value.

For a second time in the twenty-four hour period, Alfie’s heart shattered all over again. “Oh,” he breathed, unsure of what to say. Nothing he could say would relieve Eddie of the sheer panic and shame he felt. Eventually, he settled on a single-minded question.

“Do you really believe that? That it— that you’re a monster?”

Alfie didn’t have much to say, only offering up a simple question. A simple question that Eddie choked on. His hand raised to cover his mouth as an influx of contradicting emotions lashed out from within. He nodded wordlessly, closing his eyes tightly to fight back tears. He wanted to beg Alfie to tell him how wrong he was, to dissuade him from believing the lies his parents told him, but the words wouldn’t come out.

His back hit the wall and Eddie slid to the floor. He bit back a sob, trying to stay quiet. His dad lived half-way across town, but he still half-expected him to suddenly appear and tell him to keep it down. According to Jim Carridine, Eddie only cried for attention or to make people feel guilty. It never stemmed from anything real, only girls cried their pain out.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie instinctively apologized as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He noticed his position on the floor and cringed; he wanted to shrink his existence. Eddie did the next best thing and pulled his knees to his chest.

“I don’t know why it hurts so much,” he admitted with a sniffle. “I don’t think less of anyone else because of who they wanna be with, I really don’t, but when it comes to me…” Eddie shook his head sadly. “I’m already so different. People don’t need another excuse to tell me what I’m doing is wrong. And, yeah, it’s just their opinions, but it’s still too heavy. I can’t carry any more.”

He didn’t know what to expect from a question like that. Honestly, Alfie wasn’t even sure why he chose to focus on that part specifically. Maybe it was because he was afraid that Eddie did think he was a monster, but chose to carry the burden himself as a martyr. Or, maybe it was because he knew how fragile Eddie’s sense of self-worth truly was and that suggesting otherwise wouldn’t have accomplished anything.

But then Eddie continued to break, all because he asked him if he actually believed it. Of course he did; Alfie should have known better than to doubt how much hatred his friend harbored for himself.

“Hey, hey— whoa, whoa, whoa,” Alfie sputtered, more or less flinging himself from the chair to join Eddie on the floor. This wasn’t the first time that he caught Eddie in a vulnerable state. He’d seen him emotional, probably even shed a few tears. But moments like that never lasted long. Eddie was an expert at masking his emotions.

This was different.

Not only was Alfie bad at comforting people in general, he was entirely clueless as to what Eddie needed right now. A friend — he could give him that much. Alfie managed to swallow his own pain just enough to drape an arm over Eddie’s shoulder. He wouldn’t blame him if he pushed him away, but he had to try.

“Eddie, listen to me,” he began softly. “That’s not true — none of it. Okay? This sucks. It fucking sucks. But you are so much more than what anyone says you are, alright?” New tears pooled in Alfie’s eyes and he quickly brushed them away with his free hand before extending the gesture to Eddie. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—”

A deep frown etched onto Alfie’s features and he let out a trembling sigh. If he kept this up, he’d likely make things worse. “You’re my best friend, Eddie. That’s not going to change, alright?” He wasn’t in the position to make promises like that, no matter how much he wanted to believe it. At the end of the day, he still had to go back to his apartment where he’d only be left with his thoughts. “Bex’ll be good for you, right? So… so, okay. Give it a chance. You owe it to yourself to try, right? And you’ll still have me.” He hoped that wasn’t a lie; for both of their sakes.

Turning points, both big and small, happen every day. Intentional or not, change is both constant and inevitable. As Alfie embraced him, Eddie knew nothing would ever be the same between them again. The truth about their feelings stripped away the comfort of denial and ushered them into a new chapter, one that terrified Eddie. As far as he could tell, he had two options. The first involved swallowing the truth and dating Bex. The second was wiping away his tears. It didn’t occur to him that his choice should include his feelings as well as Bex and Alfie’s, Eddie didn’t think in those terms.

When Alfie encouraged him to keep playing house with Bex, claiming nothing needed to change, Eddie sprung forward and wrapped his arms around his best friend. He knew a lie when he heard one. No matter what choice he made, things were irrevocably different now. No amount of pretending would undo the past two days, but he appreciated Alfie’s dedication to the fabricated life he said he wanted.

Eddie breathed in Alfie’s scent, unsure of when he might get another chance. So much begged to be said, additions to his initial confession, but he stayed silent as his grip tightened. In a perfect world, the two of them would stay like this and the rest of the world would leave them alone. But they didn’t live in a perfect world. Alfie would eventually return to his apartment, the change would set in, and their friendship would slowly dissolve. Eddie wondered how much damage a kiss would do. Just one, to know what love felt like pressed against his lips. Too much, probably.

“You changed my life, Alfie,” Eddie whispered with his eyes closed. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that, at least. And I don’t regret any of it.”

Eddie released his hold on Alfie and pulled away enough to look him in the eyes. “One of these days, I’m gonna catch up to where you are. Until then, keep the balcony unlocked for me, okay?”

#c: alfie #sucker punch #wickedswriting #internalized homophobia tw #tw: internalized homophobia #emotional abuse tw

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pathogenliliaceae · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Jill Valentine

Hello, friends! My responsibilities for my trading company job have abated in the interim, so I thought perhaps I would come back around to Jill, as promised.

Thoughts on Jill Valentine:

I will begin this by saying that it is appropriate that she was asked alongside Mia because there is one outstanding issue that I have between the both of them: The need to be saved. Though I find Jill to be leagues more competent.

We’ll get to it in full a bit later.

I will make no secrets that Jill has never been my most favourite of protagonists. Most of those issues stem from “3: Nemesis” and Five, though I am not adverse to including bits from One and Revelations. In one word, Jill is tolerable. Though, if given a choice (depending upon who my choices are) I will usually pick someone else.

A bit of background on Miss Valentine: I am utterly convinced that Capcom has changed her birthdate. I remember quite vividly scoffing that they made her birthdate Valentine’s Day, but now that I look it up again it seems its in May. Well, that’s at least a half a point in her favour. It’s become less mind-numbingly stupid. She is French-Japanese-American, whose father was a professional thief. In addition, she received Delta Force training through the US Army. Unusually adept at lock-picking, she then (apparently) gains the moniker - the Master of Unlocking. She also, again apparently, is adept at bomb disposal, though I cannot remember an instance in which this is exhibited. Though I can remember many instances when this would have come in handy. Jill.

Post-Delta Force and US Army tenancy, Wesker recruited Jill for STARS - described as an elite special forces operation for the RPD comprised of military veterans and weapons specialists (put a leaf in this for when I eventually get to Rebecca Chambers). Joining her in STARS are Forest, who she already had a friendship with prior to working together, and Chris. She is the only female officer on STARS Alpha Team, and works as a Breaking and Entering specialist. Forward onto the Mansion Incident.

Again, I’ve mentioned that if given a choice, I will usually not pick Jill to play as. However, that is not to say that I have not played Jill’s scenario in One. My primary complaint about Jill’s Scenario is as follows: It is fundamentally easier than Chris’. She’s got the lockpick set, so she doesn’t need to find Old Keys. She has more inventory space. In the space where she finds the zombie in the bathtub, she stomps his head mid-cutscene and does not have to fight him. She starts with the handgun and receives higher powered weapons whilst Chris has a higher chance of critical headshots. She can mix chemicals to weaken Plant 42 and cut the boss fight in half. Jill can skip certain puzzles in Arklay with Barry’s help, one under the guise of “saving” her from the falling ceiling where you retrieve the shotgun. No need to find the broken shotgun, and you have access to the shotgun as soon as you unlock the area which makes accessing the Armour Key much easier. I used to believe that this was a reflection of the character, but now I believe it is a bit of thinly veiled misogyny on Capcom’s part. ):

About the opening to her scenario, after running amok in the forest and into the mansion - “There are only three STARS members left now. Captain Wesker, Barry, and myself. We don’t know where Chris is.” YOU’VE JUST HAD HIM AT THE DOOR! HOW HAVE YOU LOST HIM? Also, check your maths, Jill. That’s four STARS members. We have one negative point here in that she’s managed to lose her partner in the amount of time it takes to cross a threshold. Anyhow, like how it is when you play as Chris, the other is locked in the cell in the labs and must be released with the MO discs prior to the T-002 battle. Canonically, Jill escapes with Chris and Barry. Chris escapes with Jill and Rebecca. Rebecca does not make an appearance in Jill’s game, nor Barry in Chris’. Brad is there in the background, flying the helicopter he had damned them with at the beginning. It’s a bit of a flub.

Moving on to 3: Nemesis and the Remake and whatever happens in between the events of Arklay and the destruction of Raccoon City. Gathering from memos in Two and Three, shortly after the Arklay Incident, Chris and Jill take their concerns to Chief Irons, requesting the launch of an investigation into Umbrella and all the related shenanigans. Irons, being involved and heavily steeped in wrongdoing, denies this request. STARS all but disbands, as Chris leaves for Europe in August 1998, Barry moves his family to Canada and follows after Chris, Rebecca is doing fuck-all, and Irons has suspended Jill and ordered her confined to her flat. That leaves... Brad Vickers as STARS. The only member. In office. Everyone else is dead, suspended, or AWOL. I suppose one way to operate as a corrupt organisation is to keep the most inept person as your only functioning operative. I digress, this is about Jill and not the bucket of maladroitness that is Brian Irons.

Jill remains in Raccoon City under the pretense of attempting to locate NEST, with the intention of following behind Chris, Barry, and Rebecca(?) a bit later. I believe also she was intending to sort through the rumours of the development of Golgotha, but I cannot find accurate citation of that. Things that she manages to do whilst confined to her flat for a month behind the departure of the other STARS members: Not that at all. I have long wondered what it was that was actually keeping Jill in her flat, aside from orders from her no-longer boss, when she had intentions of leaving on 30 September. I don’t imagine that with what remains of STARS poking around, save for Brad, that Irons would put a definite date on the lifting of her suspension. “Yes, now you may leave to bring down the organisation that I am tangentially working for”. The Three Remake expands on this a bit, as it seems that perhaps Jill was not emotionally nor mentally suited for travel outside of the flat. In which case, I question whether steeping herself in all things Umbrella was perhaps exacerbating her condition. I do believe that there is a fundamentally large difference between Three: Remake Jill and 3: Nemesis Jill. First off, trousers. Enough said. I don’t do my personal investigations sitting in a pleather mini-skirt and a tube top with a rather practical jumper tied around my waist, and neither should you. I much rather imagine a suspension to be carried out in pyjamas, but again I am not the type of person to dress at home if I’m not needed to.

Secondly, Three: Remake Jill holds up much better against Nemesis without the help of Carlos (who is also rather incompetent and sexist), than her original counterpart. Her reactions to goings on are much more believable, and for much of the game she has absolutely no issue putting Carlos within appropriate boundaries. He tries to explain to her what a radio is, she snaps at him. He touches her, she tells him not to. You are a stranger, sir, please observe courtesy. Not to mention, a stranger who is working for the organisation we’ve just found out is responsible for the development of bioweapons and viral agents. At least bother to ask her name, first. A bit of a hint, Carlos: It isn’t “supercop”. If we are to continue on with this Jill further on in the series, I will support it. I would quite enjoy a long-standing female protagonist that has no issue scoffing at male protagonist foolishness and scolding their perspectives. Perhaps it is a good thing that she and Leon have never met in any official capacity.

Three: Remake Jill still falls prey to damsel-syndrome, as I’ll call it, upon being infected by Nemesis. Carlos comes in as the knight in shining armour, having become infatuated with her after knowing her for exactly four hours. I like to imagine that this New Jill could wake up from her comatose state, shout about her autonomy, and then go back to sleep. This is however, remedied by some sort of favour-trading as she does save Carlos in a quid-pro-quo a bit later. I do have concerns about how far Jill allowed Nikolai to get without shooting him down, but that’s unimportant in the long run. There is also a bit of inconsistency between games in how Jill and Carlos escape Raccoon City and what happened just prior, but those are unimportant to our examining of Jill.

All in all, New Jill is portrayed as a competent individual, which I think serves much better to support her character in instances such as the Fall of Umbrella chapter in The Umbrella Chronicles, which leads into the formation of the BSAA and her involvement with them.

Functionally, from 2003 until at least 2009, Chris and Jill mostly function as a singular unit. 2005- they work together to subdue T-ALOS. 2004- The Queen Zenobia, Queen Semiramis fiasco in which Jill carries Parker through a sinking ship as Chris slams doors in her face- as loving partners do. (I do want to mention in an aside that so many people find themselves in trouble whilst looking for Chris. It is the plot of NO FEWER than four games. One, Two, Code: Veronica, and Revelations. Maybe even a bit of Six. Call it four and a half). Revelations does delve into a bit of why I find Jill to be competent amongst the ranks of highly amateur BSAA agents. First off, she reads the manuals for things. She realises the importance of memos! Secondly, she is shown deducing and explaining quite a bit about the situation they find themselves in to Parker, who is often none-the-wiser. An argument could be made that Parker is a newly ported FBC emigre and therefore does not yet have the same expectation but I disagree having seen the... eptitude of other agents. She is rather instrumental in uncovering the whole FBC - Veltro - BSAA mess and quite honestly tends to hold her own in that installment. If only the dodge function worked better. Anyhow, back to her partnership with Chris- it canonically ends with the Lost in Nightmares campaign in Five. In which she quite literally bowls Wesker out of a window in defense of Chris and (sort of) the world. If there is any secret method of getting me to enjoy a character, it is self-sacrifice for the sake of another. There is something so beautiful about it. Except Ethan, nothing can redeem him. Jill functions best as a character when she is partnered with Chris. I cannot say that in any of these scenarios I have profound issues with her. Forward onto the events of Five and about where we will end this tangent.

Jill and Wesker, obviously, both survive the fall from the Spencer estate. Jill is kept for experimentation due to the existing muted strain of T in her body from the events of Three. The antibodies she possessed were used by Wesker in attempts to make Uroboros more accepting of human host bodies. During the time that she was “in his care” (poor choice of words, I know), he repeatedly injected her with Progenitor strains and took the resulting antibodies. As a result of the testing and antibody removal, Jill’s hair, skin, and eyes lightened in cryostasis (I am still trying to make sense of this bit). Once she had reached the extent of her usefulness, Wesker volunteered her for the P30 project, a Las Plagas extension that utilised chemical compounds for mind control. However, due to the high expulsion rate, the chemical had to be constantly injected, explaining the injector attached to her body.

This requires her, again, rescue at the hands of Chris and Sheva. Once the injector is removed, the other two move on after Wesker, and Jill promptly collapses into unconsciousness. She is found by BSAA Delta Team Captain Josh Stone, who escorts her to a helicopter and initiates a rendezvous with Chris and Sheva on the volcano. I will stand up for Jill on this one- I do not at all believe that if Jill was on the helicopter, that Sheva should have been the one to wield the rocket launcher. That honour should have belonged to the two original STARS Alpha Team members alone. It’s simply poetic, and I am sorry for Sheva, but it would have been much more perfect.

Currently, we’ve not seen anything from Jill since Five. The only mention to her current condition is that she is at the BSAA undergoing testing and rehabilitation for her time spent with Wesker. In her words: “...ever since getting back I've been locked up in this lab as they run tests on me day in and day out. It's every bit as boring as it sounds”. We leave Jill’s chronology with her being bored. Fitting. In short, I believe that Jill has quite a bit of potential in her competency, and I am actually quite interested to see what her reaction would be to the BSAA using bioweapons. We’ve not heard from her in twelve years, so one can only assume that she is still alive somewhere, being bored. If they are going to take her character in the same direction they appear to be going in the Three: Remake, I would not at all be adverse to seeing her again in a future standalone installment. That being said, I have quite the backlog of characters to talk about! Please give me the benefit of the doubt when waiting on these. I’ve got work to do, tea to drink, games to play, and characters to analyse.

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