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citydreamgrls · 4 years ago

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they were roommates - part two

a weasley twins x fem!reader fic

summary: she had nowhere to go, fleeing home to pursue something along the lines of freedom, so being welcomed into the entrepreneurial twins life was a whole world of new experiences waiting to happen.

an: thank you for the overwhelming love for the first part of this series, which i will link HERE for you guys!! also MASSIVE thank you for over 700 followers, when i posted the first part i was just hitting 600, so this has been crazy, love you always and hope you enjoy <333

words: 4,949

A warmth covered y/n’s face as she grumbled to herself, trying to roll herself away from the light that spilled in from the large windows. Her eyes squinted uncomfortably and the noise of the room finally settled into her head bit by bit.

The sound of a coffee machine whirring, doors opening and closing, and the faint sound of the morning radio show that Neville would often play at the inn. It all felt so new, yet so familiar.

“Morning sleepyhead,” The girl frowned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes to see one of the twins place a mug on the small coffee table nearby. “Feelin’ better?” The girl nodded, feeling guilty that she once again couldn’t tell whether it was Fred or George that was talking to her.

“I’m sorry- this is really rude but, are you Geor-”

“I’m Fred.” He didn’t seem bothered by her wild guess, standing up as if nothing was amiss and heading to the kitchen. “Come and get something to eat will you, or else it’ll get cold!” He called back, disappearing to find his brother and leaving her to pull on a nearby hoodie.

She shuffled over to the table, a small chuckle sounding out at the sight of their plates. Piled high with more food than she’d usually eat in a whole day, the girl sat down and started on a piece of toast, hoping they wouldn’t mind her starting a little prematurely.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” George laughed, his twin obviously urgent to have them sit down together for breakfast. Was this normal for them, or was she the exception? They both wore matching suits, dressed for their day of work, with the difference being that Fred’s tie was red and George’s blue.

One glance at the clock and the girl wanted to head straight back to bed, but if she wanted to thank them properly for their hospitality, then it needed to be before the shop opened anyway. Their sofa had felt like heaven, and now she needed to leave it behind and fend for herself.

The two men sat across from her at the table, as they had done the night before. But now the jeans and t-shirts had been forgotten, and their once loose hair was now fixed neatly. It was funny to the girl how they could pull off two extremes so well.

They sat with a grin on their face, watching her sip on her coffee warily, unsure as to what they were waiting for.

“Are you two okay?” Please don’t let them be creeps, not now. She begged to herself, seeing them exchange a nod before looking back to her once again.

“We have an idea to offer up,” Fred started.

“One that will benefit both of us.” George added in, y/n urging them on with her sunny smile. She couldn’t help but smile around them, it was like they were made to make people laugh.

“We’ve been saying for a while that we need help in the shop,”

“Someone to cover the tills when we’re talking to customers mainly,” “Oh yeah, we hate the tills.” They went a little off track, but managed to catch train of thought again.

“Anyway,” George chuckled, seeing her look of confusion. “You need somewhere to stay, and we can’t afford to pay for someone to work in the shop.” “So, if you agree to help out then we’ll let you stay here.” “With us!”

They waited, a small moment of silence as they watched her face for a reaction. The news took a second to process, as she realised it was the ideal outcome for both of them. That way she wouldn’t feel in debt to them if she stayed, either.

Her head bobbed up and down very slowly, the two men sharing a look of pride as they high fived like kids. The girl stood up, racing over to their side of the table and wrapping her arms around them both.

“Thank you so much,” She didn’t dare speak too loud, in case she broke the floodgates on their shoulders.

Fred and George chuckled, squeezing an arm each before reassuring her that it was fine, they didn’t want her to feel as though she owed them the whole time.

“I’ll help out anywhere I can, I mean it, not just in the shop either-”

“Y/n,”

“I can cook, I can do the laundry or- or even just shop for food every week.”

“Calm down,” Fred laughed, seeing her fall into a rant over her possible chores.

“We don’t need you to do all that!” George teased, ruffling her already messy hair and heading off to the bathroom.

“Better get ready quickly, looks like there’s already a queue out there!” He chimed, peering his head to look from one of the windows to the street below, where hoards of excited kids were already waiting to get inside.

“Come on then y/n, we’ll show you everything don’t worry.” Fred had noticed the way her smile faltered at the warning of so many people all at once, she’d never had a job before working at the leaky cauldron and now she needed to learn everything in one go.

She got up, wasting no time, and made herself look presentable. The girl grabbed her open case and pulled out some black trousers and a green cardigan to put on, slipping into the bathroom once George was finished to get changed.

“I’ll go open up!” She heard him shout once the door was shut, and she stumbled around trying to be as quick as possible. Once she charmed her hair to wave nicely and cast a quick freshen up spell, y/n found Fred waiting in the living room.

“Here,” he held a little badge inside his large palm, the swirly writing showing her name. “That way, everyone will know who you are.”

Y/n took it from him, a wide smile on her face as she placed it onto her cardigan. Only a handful of people had ever bothered to learn her name when she was pulling pints, the twins included, but now everyone would know it. They wanted people to know it.

Fred felt his cheeks blush at the way she squealed with excitement, her previous nerves nowhere to be seen as she bounded towards the door of the loft.

“Wait for me!” He laughed, running after her, grabbing his jacket that hung on the back of the chair.

The girl ran down the few flights of stairs that were out of sight before running into the chaos. Now, the shop that she had seen sleeping the night before burst into action before her eyes. The entire place was a cacophony of lights, sparks and laughter. A small crowd of children watched in awe as George showed off yet another variety of firework, their cheers of delight echoing up to where y/n watched from.

“Come on then, better get on the tills before people start nicking things.” Fred nudged the girl’s back a little and she happily weaved through the shop to reach the little counter where an old till sat waiting for them. People were already waiting to pay, so Fred took charge, giving her a chance to watch what he did before giving it a go herself.

After the initial shock of the morning, y/n easily settled into the flow of the shop, working well between the two twins who watched her proudly while she served customers. It was around midday, and less and less people were coming in as the time passed, giving the three of them a chance to relax after the neverending hoard they’d dealt with.

“It’ll pick up again-” Fred laughed, leaning against the counter as she sat upon it and sighed happily.

“It always does, every single day-” George joined. “Without fail.”

“At about two normally.”

Working there was such a difference to the bar that she almost felt surprised when people would greet her with the same smile she’d give them. That had been a rarity when all she had been to people previously, was a barmaid.

“I love it here,” The girl admitted, swinging her feet off the side of the counter like a child. George was moving boxes from the back onto the shopfloor, opening each one and emptying the contents onto shelves. She wondered how he hadn’t run out of space yet, there was already a surplus of things everywhere she looked.

“I’m glad you do.” Fred beamed, turning to look at her.

“Hey! You guys, we’ve got a new shipment of bottled weather!” George pulled them from their daydream, calling the pair over to see what he’d found.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“Well it’s weather… in a bottle.” Fred tried to explain, but saw he wasn’t much help. “It’s probably just easier to show you.” He chuckled nervously, fishing through the cardboard box until he found one he liked the look of. “See, this one’s a rainbow.”

He screwed open the top, leaning back a little so that the beam of colour could release itself without hitting him in the face. Him and George had learnt to avoid it the hard way when they started selling them a year ago.

Y/n’s face lit up, watching it bounce around in the air until it found its place and settled into a perfect curve.

“Wow,” Her eyes surveyed it intently, wanting to reach out and touch it, but knowing that would most likely end up bad. “That’s incredible!” The man beside her swooped the jar over it and pressed the lid on tightly, the strip of colour disappearing once again in front of her eyes.

“Oh yeah, they’re incredible, until every fourteen year old boy wants to open one and suddenly there’s a load of rain clouds in here and plenty of puddles for me to clean up!” George grumbled, finishing up with that box and heading off to find another. The girl giggled, unable to picture his tall figure with a measly mop.

“He’s not a fan of the rain.” Fred whispered to her, not helping the giggling to go down. “Personally, I love it.” “Me too, well, I used to.”

Their quiet moment was caught off guard by the sound of the bell tinkling, telling them that someone was coming in. A voice called out, one that she vaguely recognised, but couldn’t for the life of her know the name to go with it.

“Fred! George! It’s Harry!” Well, that was always helpful.

“By the till mate!” He called back, standing up from the counter to give him a quick hug.

She recognised this man’s face, he’d been in the leaky cauldron with them a couple times over the past months. But he had very rarely spoken to her, just the quick exchange when he would get another round for everyone.

Harry’s face seemed to reflect his confusion, surprised to see her sitting with a nametag on that matched the twins’ instead of behind the bar. Still, she smiled his way, which he eventually returned.

“It’s good to see you again y/n, are you- do you work here now?” He looked to Fred for confirmation, to which the man just nodded.

“She’s staying with us for a bit, and INSISTED on helping out.”

“So you’ve set her to work so soon, how charming.” Harry joked, greeting George when he reappeared with another handful of boxes to unpack, surely they didn’t do this every day?

She watched the sun outside as it danced through a select few shop windows, including one of their own, the stream flying in and lighting up the small flecks of dust that flitted across her line of sight. It was easy for the girl to get lost in her own thoughts, drowning out the sound of Fred and Harry talking enthusiastically about quidditch as she basked in the warmth that hit her legs.

George came up behind her, placing a few boxes down beside her.

“Could you do me a favour,” She jumped a little at his voice, nodding when she realised what he’d asked of her.

“Of course,” “I took some paperwork up to the loft the other night, it’s on the desk in my room, could you grab the invoices for these wonderwitch packages and bring them down. I need to go set up the blasted thing, and god knows Fred won’t be helping any time soon.” He grinned, rolling his eyes at his brother and their friend getting more and more excited about something.

The girl got up with a smile, taking a quick mental note of how many different products there were before the man took them away to be set up near the front window. She scurried off, bounding up the stairs with a spring in her step. By the time she reached the top she was well out of breath, but it didn’t matter. Never in her life had she been treated with such kindness from almost strangers, not to mention that they actually seemed to like her.

George’s door was half-ajar, his open window blowing the light curtains around gently, as she walked inside. It felt cosy, yet fresh, in there. His bed was neatly made and everything seemed to be put away very methodically, much like how he preferred to display things in the shop. Whereas Fred was the one who would just shove things anywhere.

As long as people buy it!

He had told George nearly four times just that morning, unfazed by the way his brother went around correcting it all once he was seemingly out of sight. Fred never mentioned it, leaving the other twin to do as he pleased.

But it seemed as though George’s desk was the one place where all the rules on organisation went, quite literally out the window, as there were sheets and quills and parchment all over the place. She sighed, getting to work on finding what she needed.

Downstairs, Fred and Harry had just about talked each other's ears off about Ginny’s last match, discussing how amazing she had been as her teams substitute seeker when the actual player had gotten a mild concussion.

“She’s training all day today so that’s why I’m delivering her messages today.” Harry chuckled, knowing that Fred would make some kind of remark about his sister bossing him about so easily. In truth, he didn’t mind. “She wanted me to let you know that she’s gonna pop by later and visit after practice.”

“Ah! So we’ll be seeing her more than you, poor boy.”

“Be quiet, I’ve booked her all weekend.” Harry huffed, just glad to have his fiance to himself for more than one evening at a time.

“So, how’s things with y/n getting on?” He asked the twins when George came over to catch up with the younger wizard.

“She’s doing great, given that it’s only her first day.”

“Yeah, and we’re actually sorting out a surprise for her.” Fred peeked up the flight of stairs, seeing no sign of the girl. “Come on, we’ll show you before she comes back.”

The three of them went to the storage room round the back of the counter, where George had been ferrying boxes out of all morning.

“We’re gonna clear all this out and then get her some furniture and posters and the like, make it feel a bit more homely for her.”

“Woah, so you guys must like her.” Harry laughed, nodding at the large amount of room there was when nothing was stacked up inside.

“She’s worth it, isn’t she Freddie.”

“She deserves it, you mean.”

By the time the girl found the paperwork George had asked for, Harry had left to go see Neville and Hannah, just in time for the afternoon rush to start up and distract them all once again.

Fred kept an eye on the girl, who continued to happily serve behind the till, from the safety of the shelves where he was taking a break between product demonstrations. George, he hoped, would finish clearing out the storage room by the end of the day so that they could get to work fixing it up for her while she slept in the loft that night.

The two twins became so overwhelmed with jobs to do that day, that both of them forgot to mention to y/n that their sister Ginny was to visit that evening. Only getting a chance to speak to their new worker once the last customer left and the front doors were locked shut.

“That seemed like more people than last week eh Georgie?”

“I could barely reach the back shelves; there were so many of them, at least most of them are small so I can just reach over their heads.”

“Still, it’s good business.”

“Hey- where’s y/n gone?”

Fred found the girl near the back of the shop, her cardigan slumped over a nearby chair, as she swung her wand back and forth. The broom beside her followed perfectly, sweeping the floor of mess that had been trudged about throughout the day. She clocked the man behind her and smiled.

“I’ll finish up sweeping then do a once over with the mop.”

“Jesus, I don’t think we’ve ever cleaned that much!” Fred laughed, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Why don’t you head up and chill out, you’ve done more than enough for us already.”

“Are you sure?” Her eyebrows joined together in a concerned frown, but the man could only smile down at her and nod.

“Go on, we won’t be long anyway.”

The girl thanked him and went up the stairs, flashing a grin George’s way when she passed him.

“Good idea, now we can get some furniture in without her seeing.” He whispered, crediting his brother’s sharp mind.

“Come on Georgie, you need a break sometimes too, we can finish it off tomorrow anyway.” They both looked up in the direction of the loft when music came filtering down.

“Do you think she’s really happy here Freddie?”

“She seems it.” He shrugged. “She always seems happy, but do you think she really is.”

“Probably… I hope so.” “Me too.” George hummed, finally giving up his task of the day and offering to get them dinner from a nearby muggle restaurant while Fred finished brushing up behind the counter.

The music got louder, but he didn’t mind. Most days, him and George would be too tired to do much together besides their weekly pub visits. And even then it was only because someone else would persuade them to take a break. Now, just having y/n around, was like taking a breath of fresh air amongst their hectic and exhausting days.

Fred saw a flash of long blonde hair pass the front of the shop window, flattering slightly before moving off again. He scrambled to his feet, watching as he saw his little sister’s friend a little further down the alley.

“Luna!” He called out, waving when she turned slowly, a genuine smile on her face. She always was happy to see people.

“Hello Fred. It’s been such a long time, how are you?”

“I’m not bad, how are things with you- how is Rolf and the Boys?”

Y/n flung herself on the sofa, her legs aching with the day’s work well behind her. The guitar whined out in its case to be used, but she couldn’t find the energy to even pick it up, let along strum something decent. So she flicked her wand towards the radio, the stations passing by until she found one she liked, turning it up with a content smile.

Not long after, there was a flash from the fireplace that sat lonely at one end of the loft’s long living room. The girl jolted up, not having seen a floo line used very often when she lived at one. For a second the green flames put her in a trance, her mind forgetting that it meant someone was going to appear in the room before her.

A tall girl, wearing just jeans and a hoodie stood before her, a bewildered and yet excited look on her face. She turned towards the radio that was blasting out an old rock song, the red hair on her head bobbing as she dropped her sports bag and laughed.

“I love this song!”

“Give the twins a kiss from me!” Fred called after Luna, glad to have caught her when he did. With her husband always off exploring new magical creatures, she was often left with her hands full looking after the young twins. Still, she seemed composed as ever.

“There you are, took long enough!” George rolled his eyes at his brother’s words, holding out a bag for Fred to take from his one hand.

“Yeah well I was just going to get enough for the three of us but remembered Ginny was coming and thought she must be hungry after practice.” He explained.

“Oh yeah of course- wait!”

“GINNY!” They both exclaimed, the twins rushing to lock the shop doors behind themselves so they could warn their newest tennant of their little sister’s arrival.

But when they both burst into the loft, they realised there was nothing to worry about. The sight of both girls dancing around the kitchen together and laughing along to the way neither of them could get the lyrics right, settling their nerves.

“So I see you two have met.”

“Brothers!” Ginny laughed, making no moves to greet them, too enthralled in the girl’s company. She had friends on her quidditch team of course, and her siblings and their fiances. But god she loved new people, especially when they were always up for a good time like she was. “I love her! Can we keep her! Please, please, please.” She begged, gripping the girl’s arm like a whining child.

“Y/n’s our guest okay, so play nice.” Fred grumbled, setting down the food and letting everyone help themselves.

“I’m always nice, see I got the drinks ready for everyone.” Hey! That’s ours.” George pointed to the bottle of wine she had already cracked open.

“Exactly, ours.” Ginny giggled, passing him a glass, which would no doubt keep him quiet until he had one too many, then you’d never shut him up.

All four of them clinked glasses, the twins soon loosening up and matching their sister’s party attitude as they joined in with the girls’ dancing. George was headbanging like a madman, his grown out hair flying all over his eyes. His mother had been begging to cut it like she had done when they still lived at home, but he realised he had always preferred it longer. Fred had done the same, keeping his a bit neater around the edges than his brother, but enjoying the length over the breeze he felt whenever it got shorter.

Ginny had always seen the twins as nuisances when she was younger and still at school, but after the war ended she learnt to enjoy her life a little more. That was when she finally realised that they had been doing so all along. The youngest Weasley sibling then decided to join a professional quidditch team and take life one day at a time, her mother had been horrified of course, but like the twins she couldn’t deny how good Ginny was when she whizzed through the sky.

Y/n got to know the girl better, as their glasses were refilled by George everytime they took a sip. He always did enjoy hosting, especially when he was getting as drunk as everyone else. The four of them had danced for what felt like hours, grateful for the lack of neighbours, then collapsed onto the sofa where they continued to share stories and finish off another three bottles of wine between them.

“These two threw water over me and blamed Ron!” Ginny laughed, reminiscing on their summer holidays at the burrow.

“Mum would have never believed us!”

“I can’t remember why she did?” The twins protested, their many pranks over the years made it hard to recall smaller ones such as drenching their sister in her sleep.

“Because you timed it so that when mum went to find Ron he was filling up a bucket to water the plants!” She explained, having heard the other brother’s recollection every time it was brought up at a family dinner.

“Ah yes!” They said in unison, the girl in between them in fits of giggles over their mischievous side.

“You two really are trouble,” she chuckled, keeping her nearly empty glass out of George’s sight in fear of having a horrible hangover the next morning. At least the shop was closed on Sundays, or else they would have all struggled.

“You can’t escape!” Fred boomed, acting like a brainless zombie.

“We’ve trapped you.” His brother joined in.

“Good luck with these two, they’ve obviously tried to keep the chaos hidden… but it’ll come out sooner or later.” Ginny laughed, checking the time with a humorous face. “Good lord, I better get back before Harry starts sending owls after me.”

“He can wait!” George whined, pouring into her glass as she tried to stand up.

“I know he can Georgie, but I’ve also had a very long day at the pitch so I need to get some sleep soon.” Her legs turned to jelly as she wobbled over to her sports bag, staggering under its weight. The redhead waved goodbye from the fireplace, taking a handful of floo powder and announcing her address before bursting into flames.

Y/n sort of wished that Ginny would have stayed longer, as she was only just beginning to know her properly. But she too couldn’t deny the wave of fatigue that hit her like a brick wall the second she blinked a little longer than she should have.

“Tired darling?” George sneered from beside her, waking her again.

“Oh no… not at all.”

“Leave her be, you can sleep if you want- we won’t disturb you.” Fred leant over her to shove his brother playfully.

“You should sleep too Georgie-” She teased, her drunken smile still just as perfect as her regular one.

“And why’s that sunshine?”

“Because you’ve been moving all those boxes, you must be exhausted by now!”

Both men froze a little, concerned that she’d noticed him working on the storage room all day. Fred eyed his brother, urging him to say something in the awkward silence they had created.

“Uh- yeah- well, we need to make space for a new shipment.” George lied, in a panic, the other twin silently grimacing and how awful he was under pressure.

“That means things are selling right? That’s good?” She looked between them, seemingly oblivious to the way the men were freaking out in their heads.

“Alright- alright we’ll go to bed!” Fred laughed, breaking the tension, and standing up to clear the coffee table of glasses and plates. George joined him, wanting to avoid any more possible interrogation if he could help it.

The girl reached for the bowls before her but they cut her off.

“We can do all this, you get some sleep okay?” George smiled sweetly, to which she just nodded, too tired to argue back this once.

“Thanks,” She murmured, reaching into her case to find her pyjamas.

While she went to change in the bathroom, the two men stood together in the kitchen, very aware that they were quite drunk by now.

“She��s good isn’t she,” George mused, stacking more plates into the sink that washed them.

“See, I knew you’d come round to her.” Fred accused. “I didn’t dislike her!”

“You weren't mad about her.”

“And you are?”

There was a moment of silence, which worried George, as he knew his brother all too well. If what he’d asked wasn’t true, then Fred would immediately deny it, in turn sounding guilty. But the silence always meant he was right.

“She’s different,” He finally spoke up, focusing his attention on drying whatever came from the sink.

“She’s also living here Freddie.”

“I know, it’s not ideal, but I just like her.” “Everyone likes her, she’s well- she’s her.” George stuttered, never having heard his brother talk about a girl this way before. Even his high school crushes had been purely based on appearances.

“Exactly, I can’t help it.”

“And say you tell her- and she doesn’t feel the same, which is very possible-” “I know.” Fred snapped.

“She has nowhere else to go, and telling her something like that would force her away… you know it would.”

The sound of the bathroom door opening echoed across the loft, making both men jolt into action, trying to seem as natural as possible despite the air of awkwardness around them.

“Night you two,” Y/n smiled, leaning into the kitchen.

“Night darling.” George replied, wondering whether he should drop that nickname around Fred.

“Night y/n.” He barely looked up from the sink, watching his reflection distort in a handful of spoons, with the hope that she would just go to bed.

The girl, luckily for him, was still very much tipsy and didn’t notice anything wrong with either of the twins as she turned and headed for the sofa. George stepped closer to the sink, watching to make sure she couldn’t hear them.

“Look Fred,” He whispered.

“It doesn’t matter okay, leave it.” He threw the cloth down with an agitated sigh, obviously not having thought over the consequences to his little crush, and went to leave.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

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whitesparrows97 · 5 years ago

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Head In The Clouds

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers AU

Summary: When things get too much at home, you book a flight to the other end of the world to escape your thoughts for a few days. The fact that you meet a handsome stranger on this flight, who distracts you from the intrusive thoughts of your ex-boyfriend, is more than convenient. So far off the ground, it’s only a matter of time before feelings and desires run high and one thing leads to another.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content including fingering in public, risk of discovery, protected vaginal sex, light choking, being insecure after sex

Word Count: 9.1K

Author’s note: Hi! After getting your positive feedback to post this, I’m doing just that. I get that at times like right now, getting away as easily as in this story is not possible and being stuck at home can be difficult. But I hope that this story helps at least a little bit to take your minds off things for a little while!

You had to get away. You hadn’t cared about where, as long as you brought as much distance between you and your boyfriend as possible. Ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself in your thoughts. This addition still felt strange to even think. The last five years had been a waste of time. In retrospect, all the energy and time you had put into the relationship would have been better spent on something else, something better. Something better, that’s what he had said to you as well when you caught him with another woman doing it on the kitchen counter. You had to suppress the gag reflex that was building up inside you when the image of the two of them came back to your mind.

Maybe it had been the first shock, but maybe you were just too naive, too gullible and that was why you hadn’t turned 180 degrees at that sight and left your ex-boyfriend behind without any further explanation. Because did it even need that? An explanation? It had been more than clear what had happened and actually you should have be above it all. Actually, you should have rolled your eyes and left after the first desperate attempts of your ex-boyfriend to explain what happened. But you just weren’t like that. Unlike him, you wanted to give both of you another chance.

She is simply better than you.

This sentence echoed in your head for weeks now and it was almost comforting. Had you made a mistake at work? Well, others were just better than you. Did you argue with your parents again because you were supposedly not helping enough in the household? So what, you just couldn’t keep up with your siblings’ diligence. Another reason why you had to go away for a few days. You had shared the apartment with your ex-boyfriend and finally found some of your pride again. So two days later, when you knew he was at work, you had packed your stuff together and moved back in with your parents for a while. You hadn’t been aware of how difficult it was to live at home again after living alone for so long. As grateful as you were to them for taking you back in this situation of need, you just wanted to have your peace and quiet after work.

You sighed with exhaustion as you dropped into the waiting area of the terminal and put your backpack on the seat next to you. Getting here at all had been almost impossible. Your mother had tried for hours to convince you that such hasty decisions would never end well and that you would be homesick by the time the flight started. But to get homesick, you needed a place you could call home. Your ex-boyfriend had taken all that from you when he threw away your five years of relationship. He had taken that feeling of familiarity with him. Since then, everything seemed dull, somehow strange. You even watched your own reflection, wondering if that was really you. If you were the mistake, the reason why your ex-boyfriend had cheated on you.

You are not spontaneous enough. I feel like we’re already eighty and have been married for sixty years. The relationship is in a rut.

Whether that was the reason why you were now bouncing your leg up and down in excitement and nervously looking at the screen of your phone to see what time it was, you didn’t know. You were doing exactly what your ex-boyfriend had criticized you for and you had the feeling that you were still being controlled by him. He had determined the last five years of your life, it had to end now. After all, he had put an end to it months ago.

You listened to the announcements of the staff echoing through the airport while you waited for the boarding to begin. You had arrived at the airport too early as usual, which was a miracle when you thought back to all the discussions with your mother, who had tried to persuade you to stay. But a few days somewhere else would probably not only do you good, but also your parents. It must have been difficult for them too to share the house with you again. But it was almost destiny when you saw the post on Facebook of a friend of your family who was subletting his apartment. He had bought a vacation apartment in Sweden years, if not more than a decade ago. Maybe that was why your mother had given in at some point because she knew the friend well and knew that you were in good hands there. And it was only for a few days. A few days in which you hopefully would find yourself again and were able to organize your thoughts.

You stared into the distance as countless thoughts flashed through your head and you watched the many planes landing and taking off, which you could observe through the countless windows. That was why you missed the glances of a young man who had sat down in a seat opposite you. You crossed your legs so that you wouldn’t bounce your leg up and down anymore and tried to relax a bit. It was the first time you flew alone. In the past your parents were always there, later either your ex-boyfriend or your friends. During the last hours you hadn’t had time to think about what could go wrong. But now that you were alone in the terminal waiting for your flight and had nothing to do but exactly that, waiting, you had time to think. You had forgotten in your hurry that flying meant mainly waiting. You arrived hours earlier, only to either queue up in rows, waiting for the plane to be ready to take off or for you to finally arrive at your destination. Oh, how nice it would be if you could teleport.

Again, a soft sigh escaped you as you watched the people around you to see with whom you would spend the next hours. It was strange, you didn’t know each other and spent hours with them in the most confined space. You shared the toilet with strangers and even fell asleep next to each other. That was more than you could say about your first boyfriend back then. Your gaze lingered on a young man, about your age, who was sitting directly opposite you. He wore a face mask, so that half of his face was covered. His gaze was on his phone, which he held in one hand, and he seemed to be listening to music through the headphones that were in his ears as he gently bobbed his head up and down.

Your eyes wandered further down over the dark green hoodie and the torn jeans, which gave you an excellent view of his naturally tanned skin on his knees. You looked up again and your heart almost stopped as you looked straight into the eyes of the stranger. Quickly you looked to the side and you felt your cheeks getting hot with embarrassment as you realized that he had caught you checking him out more than obviously. You felt his gaze on you and tried to ignore the urge to look back at him and see if you were right with your feelings or just imagined it. It was worth a try, it was unlikely that he was still looking at you. Right? He probably had a short laugh and then turned back to his music.

You risked it and your gaze quickly slipped to the stranger and back again. Nope, he still stared at you and if you had seen it right in the hurry, he grinned. At least if you interpreted it correctly, how his eyes had formed into small crescents, the rest was still hidden under the mask. You cleared your throat because you had the feeling that a lump had formed in your throat. With numb fingers you fished your phone out of your pocket again and tried to distract yourself with social media while you still could. Once you were in the air, you had to rely on your book, which you had packed especially for the flight.

You could feel how you relaxed a bit when you turned your focus and concentration away from the man’s stare. For the next few minutes, you continued absent-mindedly scrolling through your Instagram feed, which felt like it was repeating every day before your flight was finally announced and boarding began. When you looked up and tried to grab your backpack, you unconsciously took a quick glance at the seat opposite you. Your heart sank when you realized that it was empty.

And that was exactly the reason why you could never meet new people. You have had the perfect opportunity to talk to him. After all, you already had his attention, and a quick chat before the flight would probably not have been a bad idea. Just to calm down your thoughts, which just shot through the ceiling again at the upcoming flight.

You were a little angry at yourself for blowing this chance when you lined up to get on the plane. You forced a smile when you held your phone on the scanner and shuffled after the other passengers as the employee wished you a good flight and you thankfully put your phone back in your pocket. Although you had booked the flight so spontaneously, you were even able to get a seat by the window. You couldn’t imagine sitting for hours in the aisle or worse, in the middle. You needed the comfort you felt that at least on one side you had no one sitting next to you or constantly passing you.

As you walked through the narrow corridor looking for your seat, you noticed that the plane in general, fortunately, did not seem to be too crowded. But what did you expect for one of the last flights of the day and in the middle of the week? Maybe you were lucky and the two seats next to you would be free so you had a little more room to perhaps even lie down. You had a busy day, which was very beneficial to you because you would probably fall asleep soon and sleep through most of the flight. This was the only good way to spend such a long flight.

Almost at the end of the plane you finally spotted your seat number. As you lowered your eyes, you could see familiar brown, slightly tousled hair looking over the seat of the row in front of you. Your breath faltered when you realized who was sitting directly in the seat next to yours. Before you could think too much, he had looked up from his phone when he noticed you standing hesitantly in the aisle in front of the row of seats.

“Oh, are you sitting here?” he asked and gestured to the seat next to him, which he was currently blocking.

You smiled apologetically and nodded. “Sorry, if I had known that someone was sitting next to me, I would have gotten in line earlier.” You watched him stand up and duck his head so he wouldn’t bump his head.

But he waved his hand in reassurance. “No problem, I could have got on later as well.” He threw you a smile again, which you at least interpreted as one. You wondered if you would ever see his face without a mask. You took a step back to give him enough room and tried not to let your surprise show when you noticed how much he towered over you. But maybe it just seemed that way in the small space when you looked up to him intimidated when he was standing right in front of you. “There you go,” he said, and made a broad arm movement into the row of seats and you had to laugh softly as he bowed to you. You almost felt as if you were getting into a luxury limousine and not letting yourself fall on the sat through seat in economy class of an airplane.

He also sat down again on the seat next to you while you tried to make the very limited space you had available for the next hours as comfortable as possible. You felt his eyes on you again and looked up with curiosity. It seemed as if he had been caught before he regained his composure and his gaze glided to the backpack that you were still holding between your legs. “Do you need help with that?” he asked with a nod in that direction, “I can put it in the top storage for you. You don’t need to be afraid to ask if you need it again,” he explained to you immediately when he noticed your hesitation.

You thought briefly about his offer. It would certainly be more comfortable if you had a bit more legroom and could stretch your legs a bit every now and then. And if he already offered that you could always ask him if you needed something from your backpack, he really didn’t seem to mind. So you accepted his offer with a smile. When you handed your backpack to him, your fingers brushed against each other and you had to suppress a pleasant shiver.

Quickly you leaned back in your seat and stared intently out the oval window, hoping that he didn’t notice your awkwardness too much.

What was the probability that your seat was next to his? Even though you had never been very good at math in school, even you knew that the probability was very low. Either fate was particularly fond of you and gave you a second chance after you screwed up the first one. Or it laughed at you and wanted to see you suffer, because you were probably thinking of nothing else but the attractive man next to you for the next few hours. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he pulled down the table in front of him and put his laptop on it. Okay, good. He seemed to be busy and had no intention of keeping the conversation going. That was convenient for you and you were by no means disappointed because you wanted to know more about him. No, that would be strange. He had just been friendly, that was all.

In order to stop sitting oddly next to him, you reached for your book and turned to the page where you had stopped. You still had a good two-thirds to go and, even if you couldn’t get a wink of sleep, you definitely wouldn’t be able to finish it. The reading did you good, it distracted you from the turbulent start and the warmth radiated from the man next to you. Every line more you read, pulled you further and further into the spell of the story. You did not know how much time had passed, but when you looked up, your neck hurt, which had been bent down all the time. You groaned softly and rubbed your neck to release the tension. Then you heard a soft laugh next to you that made you look to the side.

“Murakami, huh?” he asked without taking his eyes off his laptop screen. “I understand why you were so absorbed in the book.”

Surprised, you stared at him and unconsciously stroked the cover of the book. “Have you read any of his books?” Your gaze slipped further down and only now did you realize that he had taken off his mask. It was almost unfair how good-looking he was. How his dark red lips curled up into a little laugh or his jaw, over which you would love to let your finger slide. You didn’t even want to begin with his delicate nose, on which sat round glasses with a filigree frame.

He nodded and turned his gaze from the monitor to you. “A few?” he asked almost shocked, “Almost all of them, and let me tell you, there are not exactly a few,” he laughed and you couldn’t hold back your smile. “Is this your first book by him?”

You nodded, somewhat embarrassed. He seemed to know so much about the author while you were still stuck on page 250 of the first book. “That obvious?”

He shrugged his shoulders and let himself fall into the seat where he had previously leaned forward to see the screen better. “1Q84 is probably the first book of many by Murakami. Do you like his writing style?” You hesitated a bit, you didn’t want to spoil it by criticizing his possibly favorite author. But he seemed to notice your hesitation and had to laugh. “You can be honest, I think he’s written better books than this series.”

“Oh, really? Which one do you recommend?”

“Definitely Kafka on the shore,” he said without batting an eyelid. “A friend of mine is also enthusiastic about Hard-Boiled Wonderland, but to be honest I never really enjoyed it much.” His eyes fell on the book you were still holding tightly on your lap. “But read the other two books from the series first.”

Slightly surprised, you raised your eyebrows. “What, there are more parts to the story?”

He laughed softly and you watched him as his slim, long fingers reached for the laptop and slowly closed it. “People are always surprised because they only know the first book,” he said more to himself than to you, before he turned towards you and smiled at you. “I am Hoseok.” He held out his hand to you and you gladly took it.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself and his smile grew a bit wider.

„Nice to meet you, Y/N,“ he said and his brown eyes almost burned into you as he looked at you. His hand held yours for a moment longer before he let go and looked to the side. Only now could you breathe again. You didn’t know what it was about him, but you felt your own heartbeat rushing in your ears, which even drowned out the roar of the turbines. “Are you staying in Sweden, or is this a stopover for you?”

You were taken aback for a moment that he was still seeking the conversation. “Oh, I’m staying in Sweden. An acquaintance has a vacation apartment there and I just wanted to get out for a while.”

“Ah, how nice,” he sighed, “And I completely understand, sometimes you get a little stir-crazy, right?”

You hummed in agreement. “Especially when you moved back in with your parents. How did you put up with them as a teenager?”

Hoseok laughed. “As much as you love them, but what’s the saying? Everything in moderation.” You felt his gaze on you and sensed that he was assessing whether he could ask the next question or should keep it to himself. He decided on the former. “May I ask how you ended up living at home again?”

You sighed, did you really want to tell a stranger your worries and problems? You decided on a short version, you did not want to bore him right after a few minutes of conversation. “Long story, actually. In short, I shared an apartment with my boyfriend, sorry, ex-boyfriend. He cheated on me and I didn’t find a new apartment in a hurry. That’s why I have to live with my parents again. But probably better than living on the street.”

“Okay, wow,” he said after your monologue and you already regretted having opened your mouth at all. “You moved out even though he cheated on you?”

Oh, that was not the reaction you were expecting. “Yeah, I couldn’t kick him out of the apartment and I didn’t want to live with him anymore.”

“Understandably,” Hoseok added, “but if I had been in your place, I would have put his things on the street and changed the locks. Oh, what am I saying? I would have thrown his belongings right out of the window, so he would have had to pick them up himself from the sidewalk.”

You laughed at his statement. “You’re right, but I just wanted to get away at that moment.” Your smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. All that remained was a frown.

“Cheating sucks, I hate people who do this to their partner,” Hoseok continued the conversation, which had briefly drifted into an oppressive silence.

“Me too,” you agreed with a sigh. But then you were seized with courage. You had told him something intimate that you had hardly told anyone before, except your closest friends and your parents. And that was the only reason you asked the next question. “What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

He smiled, almost embarrassed and briefly avoided your gaze. “I work a lot, to be honest,” he began to explain and pointed to his laptop, “My last girlfriend didn’t handle it so well that I didn’t have that much time. Instead of making her a priority, I mistakenly thought she had to accept that work comes first.” He glanced around briefly as if he remembered a moment from the past that was hidden from you. Then he pulled himself together again and gave you a warm, sincere smile. “Now I know better.”

“Relationships are complicated,” you said, putting your book aside. On the one hand, to suggest to Hoseok that you wanted to keep talking to him, and on the other hand, to stop your fingers from continuing to play nervously with the cover, which was already beginning to peel off.

“Not with the right person,” Hoseok contradicted you and winked at you. He winked at you. Your jaw almost dropped at the sight of it, and you pulled yourself together to keep your facial features in place as best you could while you frantically searched for an answer.

“It’s just not so easy to find the right person,” you admitted shyly, playing with your fingers because the book was out of reach.

“Well, maybe they’re closer than you think,” you heard Hoseok say next to you, and as the words left his mouth, your gaze shot back to him, which you had previously fixed on your thigh. He grinned at you before he opened his laptop without another word and continued working on his project.

Should you say something? You didn’t want to interrupt him at work, but you didn’t want your conversation to end either. As you wrestled with yourself further whether you should speak to him or not, the grin grew on Hoseok’s face, which you didn’t even notice, so much you were absorbed in thought. So you flinched slightly when you suddenly felt a hand on your chin that gently turned your head in his direction. You looked at Hoseok with big eyes, completely taken aback by the sudden touch.

“Your ex-boyfriend was a complete idiot for cheating on someone like you. I wonder how he could think that he could find someone better like you. Don’t let an idiot like him fuck up your confidence. I’ve only known you for a short time, but you seem like an incredible woman who deserves so much more in life than that.” He threw a sad smile at you, and you wondered if he had experienced something similar. “I see how insecure you are, and of course I don’t know if this is related to that or maybe it’s because of me. But let me tell you one thing quite openly from man to woman: You are incredibly attractive, smart, have a good sense for books,” you laughed softly at this comment, “and you’re an excellent partner in conversation. I’m glad I’m sitting next to you and not next to Elizabeth, who had been telling me non-stop about her terrific son Jasper on my last flight.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter and Hoseok let go of your chin before he joined in your laughter. “Well, then, Hoseok, your standards are very low.” You remembered a sentence that almost got lost in his short monologue. “Besides, it’s not because of you that I’m so insecure. I mean, a little bit. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? Who wouldn’t get nervous? But I’m not uncomfortable with you, if that’s what you meant.”

Hoseok grinned at your words and only now did you realize what you had just said. “So you find me attractive?”

Confused, you pulled your eyebrows together. “Are you serious?” You didn’t know whether he was just playing with you and trying to get you to come out of your shell, or whether he was really a little insecure. So you decided not to tease him, but to be honest. You had nothing to lose anyway. “If it makes you happy, you’re just my type.”

“I see,” Hoseok said, and you watched him as his gaze flitted across your face and finally caught on your lips for a moment. You took a deep breath as you looked back at Hoseok, the unspoken question hanging between you. The passenger compartment had calmed down a bit, most people were focused on their books, magazines or laptops and some had already prepared for sleep. When you looked past Hoseok for a moment, you noticed that it had become almost dark outside. Dark blue changed to black and there was hardly anything else but darkness.

Hoseok embraced your face and immediately your attention was back on him. He slowly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb and you wanted to melt into the seat right there and then. No one had touched you so tenderly for months, if not years. Nervously you bit your lip as you weighed the pros and cons. What happened if the kiss was weird and you had to sit next to each other for hours afterwards? Was it inappropriate to kiss someone else so soon after the breakup with your ex-boyfriend? Why did you even bother about what others, especially your ex-boyfriend, thought of you?

Hoseok exhaled with amusement and shook his head. “I see you thinking, you know that?”

“Sorry,” you muttered and lowered your head in shame. But Hoseok also raised his other hand and now embraced your face from both sides, so you had to look at him.

“I won’t do anything that you are not one hundred percent comfortable with. Deal?” You nodded in agreement. “So, baby, tell me what I can do to make you feel good.”

You were taken aback by his question and your heart leapt at the pet name he had addressed you by. You no longer knew how words and language worked. But Hoseok noticed your hesitation and you held your breath as he moved a little closer. You felt his hot breath on your face and instinctively closed your eyes. Light as a feather, you felt his lips as they gently brushed against yours, but not yet touching yours completely. “Is a kiss a good start?” he whispered and you nodded eagerly.

Without wasting another second he pressed his soft lips on yours. You sighed as he took a hand off your cheek and buried it in your hair. He pressed himself closer against you as far as the armrest between you allowed and you pulled him a little closer to you by his hoodie. He could barely be close enough to you. The warmth he radiated immersed you in an indefinable veil of lust and desire. It wasn’t long before he opened his mouth and you felt his tongue on your lips. With a smile you opened your mouth more than willingly and immediately he pushed into you. You had to suppress a moan as he explored your mouth extensively and savored your taste.

“Shh,” Hoseok whispered against your lips and the vibration of the words on your lips sent a shiver through your whole body. His thumb gently stroked your lips as if to emphasize his words, and an almost desperate whimper escaped you. “We don’t want to wake up the other passengers, do we?” he exhaled and his hot breath grazed your face.

With your eyes still closed you shook your head and your lips found his again. His lips were soft and your mouths moved together in an almost familiar rhythm. Willingly you buried your fingers in his hair to draw him even closer to you and feel his body against yours. Hoseok grunted dissatisfied and reluctantly separated from you. He reached between your two bodies and a moment later he pushed the armrest between your two seats upwards.

“Better,” he murmured and pressed his mouth firmly back onto yours again. A soft sigh escaped you when you could finally turn to the side on your seat and he pressed you tightly against him. Your fingers curiously explored the muscles that were hidden under his t-shirt and he sighed into the kiss as you slid your fingers under it to let your fingers dance right over his skin. He exhaled trembling when you touched him and you had to stifle a grin.

Meanwhile, one of his hands moved down your side and hip before finally resting on your thigh, where his thumb made circling movements. You drew in the air sharply as his thumb stroked the inside of your leg, sending a wave of excitement through you. The feeling took you by surprise so much that you didn’t even realize how you had stopped to respond to the kiss. Only when Hoseok’s head moved away from you and looked at you waiting, did you open your eyes and notice your slight freeze.

“Is that going too far?” he asked with concern and your eyes widened at his assumption.

Immediately you shook your head. “Not at all,” you said quietly, so that none of the passengers sitting around you would know anything about your conversation. Then you had to laugh softly and briefly dodged his questioning look. “On the contrary. If you continue like this, I just don’t know if I can hold myself back.”

At these words, Hoseok had to smile before it turned into a dirty grin. “Then I guess I’d better stop, right?” Contrary to his words, he started circling his thumb on the inside of your thigh again. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch and millimeter by millimeter Hoseok worked his way up between your legs. “On the other hand,” Hoseok began and paused, sliding his thumb right between your legs and slowly stroking the fabric of your jeans. You had to bite your lower lip hard to keep from moaning. “What should the crew do? Throw us out?”

You had to giggle, even though you knew there would be other ways to punish you for your inappropriate behavior.

“I would take my chances,” you whispered and smiled honestly at him. That was the last confirmation Hoseok had been waiting for. He released the grip around your thigh and unbuttoned your jeans. His gaze almost pierced you as he slowly, almost teasingly, pulled the zipper down before he let his hand slide in.

He pressed his lips to yours just at the moment when a surprised moan left your lips as you felt his fingers right against your naked skin. You straightened up to give him better access to your pants and immediately his long, narrow fingers slid deeper. He had to feel how wet you were as he slid one of his fingers along the length of your labia and then circled your opening. Slowly he began to penetrate you with the tip of his finger before pulling back again. He repeated this movement a few times until you were sure that your panties would be completely soaked. You could not remember ever having been so wet. Your ex-boyfriend and you had mostly used lube to make it more comfortable. But now you were sure that Hoseok would be able to penetrate you just like that.

At the thought of Hoseok cock you inevitably clenched around nothing. You managed a soft whimper and Hoseok felt pity for you as he pushed his finger completely inside you. You held your breath and had to squeeze your eyes together when he immediately started to curl his finger to find the slightly rough spot inside you that made you see black spots behind your eyes. You were more than happy about the loud turbine noise of the plane, because otherwise you were sure that the other passengers would hear how wet you were.

“Hoseok,” you brought out between wet kisses and grabbed his forearm. “Can we go somewhere else?”

“Bathroom?” he asked straight away and you nodded. He pressed a short kiss on your lips before he slowly pulled his finger out of you. With a mixture of fascination and pure lust, he looked at his glistening finger, which had been buried deep inside you just a few moments before. “Fuck, baby,” he said softly, and you almost didn’t hear him over the sounds of your surroundings. He moved closer to you and breathed into your ear, “You turn me on so much, you have no idea. God, I’m so hard, it almost hurts.”

You whimpered as your abdomen contracted painfully around nothing at his words. Without a second thought, you broke away from him and feverishly searched your purse for the small box you always carried with you. Just in case. You would never have expected that you would use it today. You rustled and rummaged and almost let out a cry of relief when your fingers closed around the little box.

“Shhh,” someone in front of you suddenly hissed, and when you looked up, you looked directly into the annoyed eyes of the man in front of you, who had turned around during your rummaging and glared at you from between the seats.

“Sorry,” you hissed back as well, although you felt the heat spreading to your cheeks. You didn’t even want to know what you looked like right now – reddened cheeks, tangled hair and bloody kissed lips. But your tone of voice seemed to surprise him a bit, so he turned around without another word.

“Wow, you can be really scary,” Hoseok laughed in your ear, and his breath tickled as the gust of air released one of your strands of hair.

“Shut up,” you mumbled and nodded towards the end of the plane where the nearest toilets were at.

He just shook his head laughing as he slipped into the seat next to him and then straightened up. You waited a moment, which you used to button your pants again, even though you were sure that nobody was paying attention to you two anyway. As you bridged the last meters with wobbly legs, you noticed in relief that the row behind you, and thus the last row in the plane, had remained empty on both sides. You took a quick look over your shoulder backwards before you followed Hoseok into the narrow bathroom where he held the door open for you.

“Fuck, this is smaller than I thought,” you said in surprise as you let your gaze slide through the small room.

But Hoseok just shrugged his shoulders and leaned close to you to lower the cover of the toilet. “We’ll work it out,” he reassured you and winked at you. Your stomach did somersaults again and you cursed Hoseok for the effect he had on you without much effort.

“Do you have any preferences or anything you don’t like at all?”

You thought about it for a moment, but then you shook your head. “Except anal. Not a fan of that.”

With a smile on his face, Hoseok grabbed the small box you were still holding tightly and had almost forgotten about. “Okay, good to know,” he said with a quick glance into your eyes before opening the box and taking out a condom. He put both on the shelf of the sink behind him and turned back to you.

You already noticed how much the small room was heating up and without further ado you pulled your sweater over your head, which was already sticking to you. Carefully you put it on the toilet lid and made sure that it didn’t touch anything else.

“You’re so hot, do you know that?” Hoseok muttered and firmly grabbed your hips. He pulled you against him and willingly you pressed your hips against his, where you immediately felt more than clearly his hard erection between your legs. You rubbed your hips against his a couple of times, causing Hoseok to grunt roughly. Without hesitation, he had turned you around so he could push you backwards against the sink and let his pelvis snap hard against yours.

You moaned loudly before you could restrain yourself and immediately Hoseok’s index finger was on your lips. Almost disapprovingly he looked at you, but his eyes were sparkling treacherously with a grin. “We have to be careful, baby. Otherwise someone might catch and interrupt us. You don’t want that, do you?”

You shook your head. The thought that someone would stop you almost brought tears of frustration to your eyes.

“Good,” Hoseok said softly and his gaze slipped back to your lips. “Then you’d better be a good girl and be careful not to make a sound.” He moved closer and added in a whisper, “Unless you want me to punish you.”

You moaned into the kiss that Hoseok pressed on your lips and at the sound, Hoseok grabbed your butt and kneaded it hard. He pressed his hips firmly against yours again and a wave of excitement flooded through you. Soon your fingers found their way to the buttons of his jeans and a second later you unbuttoned them and pulled them down over Hoseok’s butt.

“Do you like it from behind?” Hoseok asked and he didn’t even have to finish the sentence, you had already turned 180 degrees.

“Fuck, yes,” you replied breathlessly and opened your jeans with skillful movements. You watched in the mirror hanging directly above the sink as Hoseok fixed his gaze on your butt and massaged it with both hands. To have a little more support, you leaned forward and placed your forearms on the sink. This inevitably pushed your butt and pelvis backwards, which pressed directly against Hoseok’s cock. Hoseok cursed at the contact and you had to suppress your grin.

“God, baby, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he said and you watched him in the mirror as he reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. Your mouth watered as he wrapped his hand tightly around himself and stroked it up and down a few times. Then he grabbed the condom with one hand and returned your gaze firmly as he ripped open the package with his teeth. He grinned at you over your shoulder before he pushed your panties to the side and let his cock slide between your legs. You exhaled trembling as you felt the tip pressing against your opening and slowly penetrating you. Then Hoseok suddenly let his hips snap forward so that his cock pushed completely inside of you. Your mouth fell open to a silent scream as your inner walls were stretched by his thick cock.

“Shhh,” Hoseok whispered and put his flat hand on your mouth so that no more sound came out of your mouth. You felt his cock slowly slide out of you before Hoseok pushed back into you with one quick movement. “Fuck, you’re so… argh, tight,” he managed to say through clenched teeth between his powerful thrusts. The obscene sound of clapping skin on skin filled the small space and you felt Hoseok squeeze your arousal out of you with each thrust, where it dripped down your thighs.

Hoseok released his hand from your mouth, and you pulled yourself together not to moan loudly with each of his thrusts. He let his hand go under your shirt and grabbed one of your breasts after he pushed your bra down. When he rolled your nipple between two of his fingers and pinched it hard, you had to bite your lips. He released his hand from your hip, which he had previously gripped tightly, and wrapped it around your upper body to straighten you up a moment later. Your back came into contact with his upper body and you felt his muscles and hard chest in your back.

“Hoseok-ah,” you moaned as you watched in the mirror as his cock slipped between your legs and disappeared deep inside you with each thrust. It was mesmerizing to watch and with each stroke you felt his cock rubbing against your g-spot, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm.

He also struggled to hold back with his sounds as he put his head on your shoulder and grunted in your ear. “You are fucking amazing,” he said, and focused on long, hard thrusts that pressed you firmly against the sink each time. “I can’t – fuck–” He picked up his pace and you too felt the knot in your abdomen tighten more and more. You trembled with excitement as you felt his fingers on your throat and your eyes flickered upwards to return his passionate gaze with which he was fixing you. Once he lightly squeezed with his fingers, your eyes fluttered shut with the sensation and you pulled yourself tight around his cock, which was still pumping in and out of you rigorously. “Oh baby, do you like to be choked?” His fingers closed tightly around your neck again and with an especially hard movement of his hips against your ass you came.

Hoseok released his grip around your upper body and you used your elbows to support yourself on the sink. You covered your mouth when your orgasm came powerfully over you and Hoseok grabbed your hips with both hands to push hard into you a few more times before he also came and emptied himself into the condom.

At the edge of your blurred perception, you heard him curse continuously before he finally came to a halt buried deep inside you. You both gasped for breath and you had to lay your heated forehead on the edge of the sink, so exhausted and spent you were. The coolness of the ceramic felt good and you closed your eyes for a moment. Only when Hoseok slowly pulled out of you and you heard him open the trash can next to the toilet to dispose the used condom, did you straighten up again.

“Oh God,” you said breathlessly and heard Hoseok laugh behind you. When your gaze found his in the mirror, a bright smile spread across his face.

“I hope a good ‘Oh God’?” His fingers found your panties, which he put back in place and which you hadn’t even noticed. You were too focused on getting your breathing back under control and holding yourself upright on your shaky legs. He also helped you to pull your jeans back up.

You nodded and a little smile came over your face as you buttoned your pants and reached for your sweater. When you pulled it over your head and there was nothing but darkness around you for a brief moment, you felt your heart beating up to your neck. And you knew that it wasn’t just because of the physical effort and your orgasm.

You were afraid if you were completely honest with yourself.

What was that between you now? Were you just a quick fuck to him? And what was he to you? What did you want from him?

When your head came through the opening of your sweater, your eyes found Hoseok, who looked at you with a little smile on his lips.

“What?” you asked, laughing softly, but he shook his head briefly and took a step towards you, so that he stood right in front of you.

He lifted his hand and his fingers stroked your hair gently, almost lovingly, “You are incredible, I just wanted to tell you that.”

His sentence hung in the air like a half spoken confession and you were frantically searching for an answer. You managed nothing more than a little laugh, though, and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. His thumb stroked over them while he watched you. God, you couldn’t stop smiling. Especially not when he looked back at you with that grin.

It was quiet between the two of you, only the loud engine noises of the airplane could be heard and for a short moment you had forgotten that you were several kilometers above the ground. This realization literally brought you back to earth and Hoseok seemed to realize this as well.

“We should go back,” you noticed after another moment when none of you moved from the spot.

Hoseok cleared his throat before nodding and letting his hand fall. “You’re probably right. Do you want to go first?”

“Okay,” you agreed with him and grabbed the small box that you put in the pocket of your hoodie. The two of you changed positions before you bent forward and pressed your ear against the door to check if someone was in the hallway. Except for the loud engines, you couldn’t hear anything. Your fingers found the latch of the door and pushed it aside. You turned to him again and said a quiet “See you in a moment,” before quickly squeezing out of the small room and closing the door behind you.

You were more than happy when you dropped down to your seat, exhausted, and had not met anyone. It seemed as if most of the passengers had gone to sleep in the meantime, since the lights in the passenger compartment were also turned off for the most part. But you knew that at least for the next hour you wouldn’t be able to get any sleep. At least not if your heartbeat didn’t calm down soon and continued to throb in your ears.

But you were wrong. You noticed how Hoseok came back as well, but your eyelids had already become heavy. It seemed as if the stress of the past weeks was finally catching up with you and your body was getting what it desperately needed and why you had gone away in the first place: rest. And sleep.

The last thing you noticed that night was your head falling to the side and landing on something hard and a soft touch on your cheek.

The next time you opened your eyes, you had no idea how much time had passed. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes and straightened yourself up with a soft groan when you realized how your whole body hurt. Confused, you squinted as the sun and sudden brightness blinded you. You could swear that it had been pitch black a moment before. Astonished, you turned your head and winced when you noticed how stiff your neck was.

“Good morning,” said a soft voice and blinking, you looked up at the person sitting next to you. Hoseok had a warm smile on his lips as you tried to understand where you were and what had happened.

Then everything hit you full speed. Your ex-boyfriend, your spontaneous decision to travel for a few days, the handsome stranger at the airport who turned out to be Hoseok, and finally… “Hi,” you croaked and cleared your throat to release the lump in your dry throat.

Hoseok laughed. “You were completely out of it. You just slept through six hours. I’ve never seen that on a flight before.”

“Six hours, huh?” you asked and leaned back in your seat. When realization hit you, your eyes widened in shock. “Six hours?” you asked stunned and looked at Hoseok, who just nodded. “That means we’re almost there, doesn’t it?”

“We’re already on the approach,” Hoseok explained and your heart sank as he said.

Great, so you slept through the entire time you would have had with Hoseok. You beat yourself up on the inside as you thought about what he must think of you now. Falling asleep just like that, without another word after your… act. He probably thought that you found him boring or not good. Fuck, what if he thought you were just pretending to sleep so you wouldn’t have to talk to him? Oh no, oh no, oh no, that wasn’t good at all.

You noticed your heartbeat quickening and pure panic gripped you. You had to set it right, right now. “Hoseok,” you started and he looked up from his laptop. “I–” you started, but then you were interrupted by a stewardess who told you to fold up your tables and fasten your seat belts. You complied and you watched from the corner of your eye as Hoseok neatly stowed his laptop in his bag. When he straightened up, you were already looking at him. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at you in surprise. Then he tilted his head. “What exactly are you apologizing for? If it’s for last night,” the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he remembered, “then you don’t need to apologize for anything. Not at all.”

The heat rose to your cheeks as your thoughts drifted to the previous night. You nervously intertwined your fingers as you searched for the right words. But Hoseok interrupted your flood of thoughts when you suddenly felt his fingers under your chin and he lifted your head slightly so you looked at him. “Are you okay?”

Fuck, it was definitely not normal for your stomach to somersault at the way he was looking at you. Too nervous to speak, you just nodded, “Well then,” Hoseok replied, and his eyes flickered briefly to your lips before he dropped his hand and turned his attention forward. A moment later, you felt the wheels of the plane touch the ground and the plane slowed down. As you looked out the window and saw the buildings of the airport just a few meters away from you, you realized that you really had already landed. That it was not a dream. And that you would part ways with Hoseok in a few minutes. You didn’t even want to think about the possibility that you might – presumably – probably – never see him again.

By the time the plane had stopped, connected to the bridge to the building, and the stewardesses told you that you could get up, you had already convinced yourself that it had been nothing more than something quick and easy for him. A one-off. You flinched at the word. You picked up your things like all the other passengers and walked one after the other down the narrow corridor to the exit. Your gaze fell on the back of Hoseok’s head, from which his hair stood out in all directions, probably from sleeping. You would love to run your fingers through his soft hair and straighten it. But you didn’t know how he would react and if he would welcome your touch.

You said goodbye to the crew and you shivered slightly as you experienced the first touch of cooler weather. Hoseok took rapid strides and you had trouble keeping up with him. Did he want to outrun you? Was he hoping you would disappear into the crowd and he could steal away just like that?

Just as those self-destructive thoughts came to your mind, Hoseok looked over his shoulder and slowed down his steps. He reached out his hand to you, which you gratefully took.

“Sorry,” he said and you had trouble understanding him over the bustle at the airport. “I have an important appointment in an hour and I have to hurry a little.” You had arrived at the baggage claim and Hoseok pointed with his thumb over his shoulder towards the exit. “I’m only traveling with hand luggage because I’m only staying a few days and normally I’m a gentleman and would help you with your suitcase, but–”

“It’s okay, Hoseok,” you placated him when you noticed how he drifted more and more into a monologue. You did the same thing when you were nervous and had to smile when you noticed this similarity. “Good luck at the meeting.”

Ask him for his phone number.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Hoseok replied and a moment later pulled you into a firm hug. You took a deep breath and his masculine, soothing scent enveloped you. You were certain that he was giving you a kiss on your hair, but you weren’t absolutely sure about the soft touch. Before you could say anything, he had detached himself from you again and had taken a few steps back.

Ask him before it is too late.

He gave you another smile before he turned 180 degrees and walked towards the exit. Your lips were sealed as you watched him move meter by meter away from you.

His name was on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly turned and shouted over the distance: “Let me know what you think of the end of 1Q84!” Confused, you frowned. How would you do that? Hoseok seemed to notice your hesitation, but he just grinned and pointed to your backpack, which was hanging from one of your shoulders.

As quickly as you could, you pulled it off your shoulder, struggled to open the zipper with your trembling fingers and then rummaged for your book. Unlike the small box, you found it immediately and turned to your bookmark. When a small piece of paper fell towards you, you looked up smiling and relieved. You just saw Hoseok waving to you and you thought you could hear his laugh even from a distance before he disappeared around the corner.

I really hope you liked this short oneshot and I’m more than happy about any feedback! Please stay safe and healthy! See you soon! 💜

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #bts x reader #strangers to lovers #bts x you #hoseok x you #fluff and smut

232 notes · View notes

rueren · 4 years ago

Text

bakugou cuddles hc

***

warning : #swearing #but other than that #cuteness

content : what cuddles with bakugou would look like

pairings : katsuki bakugou x g/n reader

***

not a touchy feely person in general

before you guys started dating i don't see much pda for you two tbh *phat sigh*

maybe if he was like really whipped for you before the relationship and your head fell on his shoulder he would just leave it there

and once you guys are good friends before hand, he would occasionally grab you in a headlock and mess with your hair while trying to act angry, but you know better

but cuddles would really only happen when you guys are pretty solid in your relationship

like he would only let it happen behind closed doors

not into open PDA and stuff

like, once its gets late guys down time he’s really in need for some cuddles of any form really

he loves big spooning

but sometimes through the night he ends up pressed against you, facing you with his face tucked into your neck, and just curled into you

please don't tease him about it I'm begging you

he loves that thing where he’s doing push ups and you sit on his back

if he’s had a bad day he doesn't really say much, he just kinda shuffles around until you lay on your back and he lays on top of you, and presses his face into your chest. just the sound of your heartbeat brings him comfort as much as he doesn't wanna see it.

also like, just cute domestic things are his forte

so like, in his room or dorm or where ever, and you guy's are sitting on his bed, doing whatever you're doing

ur messing around on your phone with your head on his lap or something and he’s doing some homework, and hes typing away for hours on his laptop

“you should do your paper, dumbass. Aizawa’s already on your ass”

“yeah, but i dont wanna”

“y/n.”, queue stern glare which you return with a pout

he huffs, and grabs your phone from your hands, tossing it aside

“but i dont wanna~” “i dont care, come ‘ere”

he moves his laptop off his lap, and opens his arms

youre very confused for a bit, because what is going on?

“are you just gonna stare or are you coming,” he says, motioning his hands for you to come to him.

youre face lights up, because finally

you crawl over, and plop yourself in-between his knees, your back to his chest.

“okay open your docs, you're not leaving till you finish this shit, you go that.” he grumbles, opening a new tab for you and tugging the laptop onto your own lap

“yeah but what about your own essay?”

“don’t worry about my shit when you haven’t even started your own,” he tucks his chin into your shoulder, “besides, i only gotta put cites and im done”

you lean your face back and peck his cheek, before settling in to finally do your work.

he leaves light kisses to your shoulder every now and then, and his arms tighten around your waist

other times u use his arm as a pillow n have ur legs intertwined

#🧷.bnha #⛈.bakugou #💞.kchan.hc #i luv him sm

12 notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 5 years ago

Text

home | thomas

word count; 15,944

summary; thomas is struggling to get over what happened, and he just needs a little help.

notes; this is just some cute stuff for my baby, because he needs it.

warning; PTSD, sad Tommy, he just needs a hug.

“Home, a place that I can go, to take this off my shoulders, someone take me home.”

Thomas was a known hero around paradise, he was greeted with smiles, thanks, hugs everywhere he went. Even all these many months later, the effect he had on people’s lives had never been forgotten, but he couldn’t forget the effect it had on him.

More nights than not, he awoke with sweat dripping across his forehead and screams tearing from his lips. For the first month, everyone had ignored it, subtle looks of pity being shot his way or comforting pats on the back being given. By the time month two had rolled around, he’d began feeling guilty, noting how tired those who lived around him were becoming, and still, no one said anything. He was grateful for them ignoring it, nobody pounding on his door in the middle of the night or shouting at him, but he could clearly see what he was doing.

So by month three, he’d moved himself a good mile away from everyone else. Built himself a new little hut near the shore and he screamed out his night terrors to his heart’s content, assuming they’d go away. By month five, Thomas had begun to fear he’d live with them forever, the images of Chuck dying, Minho being taken or Newt almost bleeding out, the pictures flashing behind his eyes every time he shut them. The boys had begun taking turns sleeping on the floor of his room, just to wake him up and comfort him when he started thrashing and shouting in his sleep. Newt had officially diagnosed him with PTSD, which hadn’t surprised him at all, he’d been musing with the idea for weeks, so to have someone else say it had been no shock at all.

By month seven, Thomas had grown tired of doing this to his friends, so he started laying awake at night, pretending to sleep until he’d convinced them he was okay, and they started coming less and less, and now, Thomas rarely slept. If he had a night terror, he’d run. He’d run for miles, until his lungs were burning and his legs aching, and then he’d turn around and drag himself back, before passing out for a few hours from exhaustion, before repeating the cycle.

Everyone around him was happy, the community was thriving as the year marker rolled by and people began to feel at ease. Thomas was glad they were now secure enough to start going out and finding new people, others who needed help, needed saving and a sanctuary, he really was, but the expansion only increased his fear.

Six months ago he’d safely been a good distance from anyone else, but now he could see other houses, with the rate their group was expanding, it wouldn’t be long before he was once again crowded, and once again keeping up the poor, innocent souls who had the misfortune of having to live around him. It had been a while since Thomas had actually joined the community, tending more to skirt around the edges, grab some food before everyone else in the morning and after everyone else at night, preferring his own sanctity. It wasn’t until late on a warmer evening that he finally saw his friend again, knowing it must’ve been at least a month since he’d spoken to anyone, a disapproving look on the blonde’s face as he entered the small stick hut, crates laying around with all of Thomas’ things in.

“I brought you some dinner, can’t bloody remember the last time I saw you eat a decent meal since WCKD, so here you go.” As if to punctuate his friend’s thoughts, Thomas’ stomach grumbled loudly at the sight and smell of the food, and the runner grabbed it, shooting his friend a grateful smile as he sat on his bed to eat it. “Not going to unpack, mate? You’ve lived here for a while now. Awful hard living out of boxes, don’t you think?” Newt wandered through the one-room cabin, picking up and putting down various items from boxes as Thomas chewed and watched him go.

“I did unpack. This is repacking.” His words were muffled around bites of food, crumbs spraying from his mouth and Newts eyebrows furrowed as he turned to look at his friend, hands on his hips intimidatingly.

“Repacking, eh? And where is it you’re going this time? Another mile from your friends? Two? Do you know how bloody hard it is to walk on this limp? Now that I’m not running for my life I quite like to keep off it, bloody painful it is, and trekking up here to see your sorry ass isn’t the highlight of my month, you know?” The speech left Thomas frozen, mid-chew, as he stared at his friend wide-eyed, wondering where the sudden outburst came from. Newt ran a hand over his face, but didn’t apologise, however, he let go of the breath he was holding and his eyes met Thomas’ with a gentler look in them. “Look, mate, I know it’s hard. You don’t think it was hard for me? For Minho? For any of the newbies coming in? But we’re only going to keep saving lives, keep expanding, and you can’t run away forever. We all need you, we need you back, not this shell of you that goes on runs in the middle of the night to wear himself out, or the one that locks himself away from us all and sneaks about to eat and shower. I want my friend back, Tommy.”

The words cracked Thomas’ heart, because he wanted nothing more than to do just that, be that person for all of them and himself, but he’d given it time, and he’d tried his best, and no matter what, he just couldn’t. “I-I want that Newt, but I don’t know how to be me anymore. I-I’m just this broken hollow thing left over from what happened.” Tears lined his eyes and he pushed the tray from his lap, gaze directed to the floor and he palmed at his eyes roughly, willing the water back.

Crouching before the broken boy, Newt pulled his hands from his eyes until their gazes met, a soft smile on his lips. “I know, but there’s someone I’d like for you to meet. She’s been here a while now, and I think she’s been pretty desperate to meet you. She told me to give you her thanks, turns out one of those younger kids you saved in the last city was her little brother, the only family she had left, you should’ve seen the tears in that boy’s eyes when we brought her off the boat a few months back, would’ve made your day, Tommy.”

He let a small smile flick at his lips at the thought, a soft cooing leaving his lips as a warmth filled his chest at the idea of reuniting a family.

“Told her she had to wait, though, had to tell you herself because you’d come out of this hut one day. She’s helped a lot of us, Tommy, she even helped Gally. I’ve never seen the boy laugh but let me tell you, he cracks up when he’s around her. She brings everyone together, she makes this place feel like home.”

He mulled over the thought, knowing he’d have to leave sometime, and knowing the least he could do was give his friend this chance. He had no hope of it working, but he could do the very minimum and try, because he owed them all at least that. “Okay.”

“Okay? Well, Tommy, you’ve just made my day. We can talk more about it soon, yeah? You need some rest.” With that, his friend clapped him on the shoulder and stood, ruffling his hair before making his way on unsteady feet back to the main village, a slight pep in his walk as he left.

To say Thomas felt overwhelmed by the noise would be putting it lightly. He hadn’t been around so many people in almost a year, and he knew all eyes were on him. People were already coming up to him and greeting him, hugs and handshakes were given as he walked quickly through the crowds to get his breakfast. People were shocked to see him, probably thinking he’d just disappeared, but nothing could replace the look on Minho’s face as he spotted them at the table, the Asian boy’s jaw dropping as his fist hit the table, startling everyone else and shaking water cups.

The scene brought a genuine smile to Thomas’ lips, for a split second, before all eyes turned to him and anxiety once again overtook him and he froze in his tracks a few metres from the table. “Thomas? You’re.. here! Like, at breakfast with us!” Gally had been the last person he’d expected to speak, but he shuffled down on the wooden bench, a large space opening between him and Brenda as his lips twisted up in a hint of a smile, his eyebrows raised in an offer to the seat, and surprising himself, his feet carried him forward to sit in it.

It wasn’t quite as bad as he’d expected, he felt comfortable to be back with his friends, welcome and warm, and most of all, he felt loved. “Not getting any food, Thomas?” Brenda nudged him and he bit his lip, shaking his head as he looked over to the queue of people, all bustling and lining up to get fed, his heart racing uncontrollably at the mere thought.

“Leave him be, he’s made a massive step just coming down here. We’re proud of you, mate. Missed seeing you at the table.” Newt reassured him he was still welcome, Brenda backing off as everyone dug into the food on their plates, his eyes finding the table as he picked at a loose piece of wood. It wasn’t until a soft voice, a voice he didn’t recognise broke his thoughts that he glanced up, eyes widening at the sight of the girl before him as her gaze was focused on Newt.

Waves of hair sat around her shoulders, eyes practically sparkling as a younger boy stood behind her listening intently to Minho as he chatted, arms waving excitedly and the boy’s fingers were gripping his plate with such enthusiasm Thomas thought it might snap. His gaze rose to the girl once again, her eyes now on his and his breath hitched in his throat, but he couldn’t find it in himself to look away this time. Her face held nothing but compassion, and she didn’t look at him with pity like everyone else did, or admiration, she wasn’t putting him on some podium and she wasn’t mentally coddling him like a child, she was simply smiling at him with care, and he decided he quite liked the way she looked at him.

Placing a plate down on the table, she pushed it across the table towards him, steam still rising from the fresh food and cutlery quickly followed, his eyes barely leaving hers to glance down at the meal before looking up to her once again. Her gaze was gone, however, her fingers ruffling Newt’s hair as she left, apple clutched in one hand as the young boy bid his farewells to everyone, following after her quickly. The smell of the food was getting to him and he picked up his knife and fork, glancing at the food wearily before tucking in.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Brenda muttered in his ear, and his sights met hers, mouth full but he nodded quickly, before stuffing more food into his mouth, body ecstatic to finally have such a good meal.

“Didn’t think we’d see you so soon, Tommy, I was gonna’ come talk to you about getting started in a week or so.” Newt began, and the boy reached for a glass of water, swigging half the glass before replying.

“I felt like we should start now. It’s been a year, I owe you that, at least.” He confessed, the blonde’s eyes crinkling at the middle, but Minho spoke up before Newt could.

“You don’t owe us anything. You saved all our lives, on multiple occasions. If it wasn’t for you, we’d all still be running around the maze like headless chickens. We do it because you’re our friend and we care, not because you have any kind of debt to us.” The table was silent for a second, and all eyes on Minho. “Shut up and eat your food, shanks.”

“And there he is. Worried you were going soft for a second there, Min.” Newt teased, laughs echoing around the table and for perhaps the fourth time today, Thomas smiled. He was sure his cheeks were going to start aching if he kept it up, but he wouldn’t mind, because this is what it felt like to be cared about, to be loved. He felt safe with his friends, he enjoyed the sensation, but he couldn't quite help but feel like something was missing.

Exhausted would be an understatement, if one were to describe Thomas. He’d stayed awake the entire night just to be awake at breakfast time, and to fight off any terrors or nightmares that may have arisen. By the time the sun was setting, he was anxiously sitting on his bed. Everything in his body was telling him to get up, to go for a rumour to do a workout, to do something to get him so tired that his body was quite literally too fatigued to possibly consider giving him any kind of horrifying experience while he was asleep. He was, however, suppressing that urge, for his friends, because the way he had felt today was better than he could ever remember feeling, and that was saying something.

His fingers pulled at the edges of the blanket sitting below him, real pyjamas adorning his body for the first time in what felt like forever, instead of just collapsing in whatever sweaty gear he’d run in and changing in the morning, and his eyes flicked over all the re-packed boxes sitting around him. He wanted to unpack them, he really did, but he just didn’t see this thing with this miracle girl Newt had mentioned ever working out. He was truly glad she made his friends so happy, and she seemed to be the epitome of sunshine form the small glance he had caught of her at breakfast, but he didn’t see himself being able to conquer this problem, so why should he take everything back out of boxes if it was only all going to end up in boxes again in a few months. It really didn't seem logical to him.

He continued to look around desperately, for anything he could spend the night doing while the dark hours passed in order to avoid having to face sleeping, but he was torn quickly from his searching when soft rapping on his door sounded out, and he swallowed thickly. Nobody but Newt or one of the other boys ever came out here, and they always just let themselves in.

With slow and cautious steps, he made his way over, slowly opening the door before him and peering around it carefully, his eyes widening as he looked at you. Your hair was blowing in the wind gently, a cardigan hugged tightly around your body, and until he’d interrupted you, you’d been staring off at the sun setting over the calm waves. When you looked at him, he felt that same feeling come charging back. You were smiling, somewhat nervously yourself, and he brought up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, opening the door slightly wider, just enough to wedge his body into the gap so he could talk to you.

“Hey, Thomas. I’m (Y/N).” He looked at you for a second, before nodding, choking down the lump in his throat as he held his hand out to you, nodding in a simple and silent greeting but your smile only widened at the act and you slipped your hand into his. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Your friends have told me a lot about you.”

His heart sunk, yet another person who wanted to ask him about WCKD, ask him all about the things he did or tell him just how brave they thought he was fo-

“Gally says you kicked his legs out from under him once. That’s pretty badass, he’s pretty large. I don’t think I could manage that.” He couldn't stop the laugh that broke free, he had never expected that to be the reputation of him that impressed someone, and he’d lost that memory under all the trauma, but pride and humour flooded his veins as you dug it back up for him so casually.

“I’ll be honest, it really hurt my leg. The boy is heavy and solid muscle, I think I hit him right on the bone, I had a nasty bruise on my leg the next morning.” He grinned, and your own laughter drifted around in space the two of you stood in, a blush rising to his cheeks at just how pretty you looked while smiling, and he ducked his head to cover it, clearing his throat slightly and getting his feelings under control before looking back up to you. “What.. um, what are you doing here?”

His face scrunched up on himself as he realised how rude that had sounded, but you didn’t seem to mind, and you shrugged slightly, your eyes finding his again. “I just thought maybe we could chat. I know Newt talked to you, he seems to think I’m some kind of happiness charm.” Thomas let his lips flick up in a smile, Newt wasn’t exactly wrong. He already felt happier and all he’d done was open the door. Looking back down at the empty path, his eyebrows rose.

“You walked a mile up here for a chat?”

“I got to watch the sunset as I walked, it flew by. Besides, I have a feeling you’re worth the walk.” You promised, and that heat rose to his cheeks once again, his bottom lip clamping between his teeth as he thought about it. His fingers tightened around the edge of the door, holding it shut, your gaze left his for just a moment to flick up to his white-knuckled grip on the wood, before coming back down to his.

“We don’t have to, I just thought it’d be nice. But if you do, we don’t have to do it inside. Your home is a private place, we could go for a walk or sit on the beach instead, if you wanted. It’s all up to you.” The calmness in your voice was nothing like the was his own shook when he talked, your tone was smooth and relaxed and his own jumped between pitches and frequency each time his anxiety spiked, and he would often just cut himself off mid-sentence altogether and just give up.

“No, no, it’s okay. You can- you can come in.” He waited for a second, looking at you before slowly opening the door, stepping out of your way as you took a tentative step over the threshold. You walked past him, and suddenly the house that had been perfectly fine to him moments ago seemed embarrassing now. He had boxes stacked high everywhere, overflowing with clothes and things he’d been given, most never touched or used, and the counters lay practically empty, save for the few things he was using regularly, and as he shut the door behind you he fumbled for a way to explain it all. “I-I don’t talk much, and I don’t get many visitors. I-I’m really sorry.”

His arms gesturing about the small spaces as he looked down at the floor, his hands falling to sit limply by his side and your own reached up, sitting on his forearm gently and you squeezed, just enough to comfort him before taking your touch away, and his fingers twitched at the loss. “I think you’re doing great.” Your simple statement made him feel infinitely better, and he let himself smile, still not bold enough to meet your eyes again as you took in the small place he lived. “You’re reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’? Good choice.”

When his head snapped up, jaw open, you were running your fingers over the cover of the book that was sitting out, and he nodded shyly, your body finally turning to face him fully. “Y-You’ve read it?”

“Several times, actually. I took up home in a library for a while, once. Lived there for about a year. I must’ve read every book on those shelves.” You hummed, and his head tipped to the side. “‘Pride and Prejudice’ was one of my favourites. If you’re liking it, I could have a little look around and find you some other books that you might enjoy, if you’d like?” His head dipped in an eager confirmation as he nodded, enough confidence filling him to take quick strides across his room and take a seat on the edge of his bed, motioning for you to do the same, and you thanked him as you settled yourself comfortably onto the mattress.

The moment you had asked him about the book, his mouth had opened and he hadn’t been able to stop the words from flowing. He surprised even himself about how chatty he was being, and you replied to him just as enthusiastically. After that, the topics had changed, he’s spilled anything from basic facts like his favourite colour to more stories from the glade that he thought you would find funny, his heart skipping a beat every time he heard you laugh.

The two of you had started by sitting at separate ends of the bed to talk, and you had shifted regularly, the both of you nose sitting amongst the pillows with your backs pressed to the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles as they stretched out before you and he was chuckling amicably at himself as he showed you the sketches from his notebook. As he reached the last page, he smoothed his fingers over his most recent drawing, which was just a simple sketch of the mountainscape he could see from his bedroom window.

You ran your gaze over it, your lips parted as you looked at it, and he studied you carefully as you studied his art, and he decided, one day he’d rather like to draw you, if you’d ever let him. “This one is my favourite.”

“It is?” He mumbled, snapping his gaze away from you when you looked up from the paper pad to him, and you hummed in acknowledgement, your legs carrying you over to the window to peek out at the scene, holding his book up before your face and comparing them.

“It’s so good, I’m so impressed! This is.. amazing!” You turned back to him, and he took the book from you, his teeth flashing to you in a grin, and you stood before him, his legs swinging over the edge of the bed to face you as a comfortable silence took over the room. “I should probably get going now.”

The frown he was so used to wearing, made its first appearance in your presence as he looked at you, and his chest tightened slightly. “You’re going already?”

You giggled at his statement, his brows furrowing as you checked the watch sitting on your wrist. “Tommy- can I call you Tommy?” He licked over his lips, nodding at your words and you lit up at the confirmation, your happiness lifting his spirits back up slightly. “Tommy, you know it’s been almost four hours since I got here, right?” His eyes widened, flicking over to the window to see just how dark it had gotten. Thomas did not know it had been four hours, in fact, it felt like barely any time at all had passed, and his mouth was dry as he was at a loss for words. “We’ll hang out again soon, okay?”

“I think I would like that.” He whispered, and you held your hand out, rubbing his shoulder slightly as a goodbye, before pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. He watched you walk toward the door, and without a second thought, he tore out the final page of his notebook, standing and holding it out to you when the noise had caught your attention. “I want you to have this. This drawing. As a thank you.”

“A thank you?” Your words were spoken as a question and a bashful smile too over his face, his hands fiddling and twitching in front of him as you took the paper from him.

“I laughed more tonight than have in at least a year. Thank you for making me feel like my old self for a while.” You looked at him carefully, the room growing tense as you stared into his eyes, and he felt like you were reading his soul just from the tender look you gave him. With quite possibly the softest smile Thomas thinks he’d ever seen, your head tipped to the side.

“I didn’t bring out the old you. Who you were tonight, that’s who you always are, you just need a little encouragement to let that side of you show.” He wasn’t too sure what to say, and you chuckled, leaning up and pressing your lips to his cheek softly. “Goodnight, Tommy. Thank you for my drawing, I love it.”

Before he could respond, you had gone from the door, leaving the wood in his grasp as he watched you set off in a crisp walk into the darkness, back toward the hut you lived in, in a colony with everybody else. Raising his fingers to brush his cheek, he found dimples there, the revelation that he was smiling, widely, crashing over him and he couldn't help it, backing away and closing the door.

That night, when he laid his head down on his pillows, Thomas could still faintly smell you around him and on the blankets, and he didn’t think about the fear of going to sleep as he drifted off that night. Instead, he thought about how proud Newt would be of him, and how he couldn't wait to spend more time with you if this is the feeling he got afterwards.

The heat of the next day woke Thomas, the light filtering through the window on the opposite side of the room, and he groaned, wiping at his eyes, still unaccustomed to waking up while it was light. His body was sore and achy from the tense fits of fear he’d had, but his throat didn’t sting from as much screaming, and he was more well-rested than he had been in a long time. The nightmare haunted him, but going to bed happy seemed to ease the pain, and he couldn't help but lie in his bed happily as he let himself adjust to the morning.

When he eventually made his way down to the table, most of his friends had already arrived, but unlike yesterday, they had chosen a bigger table, and he had more choice of where he would like to sit. Newt was chatting to Sonya, the two of them deep in a conversation, and Gally was arm-wrestling Brenda across the table as Minho refereed the interaction. Slotting himself beside his blond friend, he was greeted happily, his hair being ruffled and despite the scowl that came to his face, Thomas laughed gently at the action.

“Two days in a row, look at you go, mate. Here, you can have some of my food.” Newt could sense that he was still too timid to go up into the queue for food, and Thomas appreciated the gesture, and as he looked at the plate, he realised his British friend must’ve already anticipated hs actions, because exactly half of everything had been eaten, scraped neatly to one side of the plate as the knife and fork sat beside it and he shook his head fondly at the way the boy cared for him.

The sudden squealing in a youthful voice of Minho’s name came as a young boy came sprinting toward the table at high speeds. The kid could only be eight or nine, and his eyes widened as he watched the boy turf down the side of the hill at high speeds, and Minho struggled to free his legs from the bench as he stood up to greet him, sweeping the boy up into his arms in a hug. Raising his brows at the interaction, Minho’s brows raised as the boy grinned happily, squealing and twisting in the ex-runners arms as Minho tickled his sides before letting him down. “Guess what, Minho!”

“What is it?” Taking a seat again to continue his food, Thomas shovelled his own meal into his mouth as he watched on curiously, and the kid hopped up on the bench beside the dark-haired runner, straddling it with one leg dangling either side of the wood.

“(Y/N) said I can spend the whole day with you until she gets back, if it’s okay with you!” Thomas almost choked on his food at the mention of your name, and as if on queue, you followed after the boy, cheeks flushed as you jogged up behind him, panting from the sudden exertion.

“Oh, she did, did she? Well, what do you want to do then?” He tuned out of their conversation as he watched you slow to a casual walk, your eyes moving over everyone on the table as you greeted them happily, before your eyes landed on his, and you picked up a slight pep in your step as you walked towards him with purpose. He froze, swallowing the mouthful of food he had loudly and awkwardly, wincing at the feeling and how it must’ve appeared, but you didn’t seem to care as you stood before him, and he looked up at you from where he sat.

“Guess what we’re doing today.”

“W-We’re doing something?” He cursed himself inwardly for just how awkward he had sounded while saying that, but you breezed over it, nodding enthusiastically as you rolled on the balls of your feet. “Well, what are we doing?”

“That’s a surprise. Just wait here, and I’ll be right back, okay?” He had barely given you a sign of acknowledgement before you were leaving the table, heading towards Frypan serving food in the kitchens and he watched you leave with raised brows.

“Should be fun, hanging out with (Y/N) is always fun, so your first time will be a blast!” Brenda’s hand clapped down on his shoulder, shocking him slightly from his gaze and he looked away from you, turning to look at his food as he pushed the last few bites up onto the fork.

“Not out first time hanging out. We hung out yesterday.” It seemed to be a collective shock, and Thomas avoided the looks his friends were sharing as he rolled his eyes at the plate before him. “We just talked for a while. It was nice. She makes me laugh.”

“You deserve to laugh, it’s good!” Gally assured, and Thomas wasn’t sure he would ever get used to this side of the builder, but he did really like not fighting with him all the time. He shot up a grateful look of acknowledgement, not bothering to reply as you neared the table one again, sealing up your backpack and swinging it back up onto your shoulders.

With another squeeze on his shoulders, he was encouraged to his feet by his friends when you asked is he was ready to go, and he congratulated himself when he made it to your side without stumbling over his own feet. Normally, he spent the day reading, or drawing, or doing a workout inside after eating, and it was normally night. Now, he was avoiding the looks he was being given by everyone around him, none bad, but they were simply surprised to see him up and about and interacting.

You had already struck up a conversation, and as you began to deviate from the well-worn ground of the camp to lesser trekked passages into the wildlife, his eyebrows rose, and he turned to look at you curiously. It was only another minute or two before he realised the route you were taking, he would recognise this scenery any day, and casting his gaze out, he realised you’d already begun to gain some height, the roof of his own cabin being revealed to him in the near distance, and he could see through the window.

“You’re taking me up the mountain I drew.” He whispered, and your smiling face turned or him, nodding happily as he caught on and he couldn't stop the enthusiasm that began to rush through him.

“If you think it looks beautiful from the bottom, wait until I show you the view from the first ridge, that’s where we’re stopping for lunch.” He laughed lightly at your words, looking out ahead of him as the two of you slowly began to disappear into the beautiful surroundings, the camp disappearing away below him with every step until it was a mere spec down on the beachfront.

They seemed to go for hours, and though Thomas was used to physical exertion, he was more used to quick bursts of running, and on flat ground, the rocky passes of the hills and the long-distance trekking had him sweating as the soon got higher in the sky and the day moved on, bringing higher temperatures with it. He was sweating, a thin layer coating his brow and his pants mixed with yours in the warm air as the two of you continued your journey.

He was almost grateful when the two of you finally came to a stop, but he was breathless in an entirely different way as you finally stopped moving. You trekked forward into the space and Thomas could barely move for the sheer beauty of it. He could see from one end of the large island to another. He could see right down over the miles and miles of treetops they had walked through, birds and animals flying and leaping between them, the shade of the trees around him were giving him enough shade from the sun above that he didn’t need to squint as he looked out at the wildlife, the beach seeming so far away as everything suddenly fell into perspective, and he had a sneaking feeling you’d done it on purpose.

Everything felt so large up here, and he felt small. He felt reassured. Unless you knew your way up here, you’d never find it. Not even his friends would be able to find him up here, never mind WCKD or anybody that would want to hurt him again, and there was nothing for the miles and miles that the glittering sea stretched out toward the horizon.

The area they were standing on was beautiful. It wasn’t quite the top of the mountain, another mile or so winding up steeper pathways would need to be done to reach the summit, but you had brought him to the best-shaded area, a spot you clearly came to often as you confidently walked toward a spot, dropping your bag from your shoulders and leaning it against the trunk of a tree.

You pulled a blanket from inside, laying it out on the grass, and laying out the wrapped pieces of food you had brought. He was stuck, fascinated as he looked out at the stunning view you had shown him. You never rushed him once, letting him take his time, just looking out and coming to terms with the place he lived, and the thing she was seeing around him. When he was finally ready to sit down, he made his way over to you, your eyes closed as you lay out on the blanket, your shoes toed off as you enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your skin.

“Why did you bring me here?” You cracked a single eye open to look at him as he followed suit, leaning himself back against the trunk of the tree, kicking his shoes off of aching feet with a happy sigh. “Not that I’m complaining, this is incredible. It just seems.. almost.. personal, I guess.”

“You gave me a gift, something personal of yours, that you shared with me. I wanted to share something with you, that nobody else knows about.”

He glanced down at you, your eyes closed again and you missed the small smile he gave you as he took in your relaxed state. “You’ve never brought anybody else up here before?” You shook your head, never looking at him, as though it was the most casual thing in the world. “So, why me?”

“You’re special, Tommy.” You didn’t give him any further explanation, but he blushed at your words, and he tried to hide his red face as you sat up, opening up the wrapped food you brought with you, before handing a sandwich to him, his mouth watering as he looked at the food. “Frypan said chicken sandwiches were your favourite, so I got you that one.”

He had already taken a large bite of the food when he nodded enthusiastically, cheeks full as he tried to speak his ‘thank you’ around his food, his mouth full and words muffled, but the giggle you let out told him you’d heard him just fine, as you opened your own food and dug in. You had also pushed an apple and a piece of cake over to him, a bottle of water sitting between the two of you as you ate in silence, looking out over the place you called home, the squawking seagulls happily filling the empty space for sound.

You had even been quiet when you had finished eating, as you lay back down, his arm was propped under his head, his eyes staring up at the sunlight that was flittering through the gaps in the canopy of the tree above you both. Your own head was resting on his elbow, your hair brushing against his cheek each time you moved, and for the first time in a long time, he felt content.

“I never got to thank you, Thomas.” You eventually mumbled, and he turned his head to the side, his nose bumping against your temple from your close proximity, and he huffed lightly, his breath blowing across your face, before he redirected his gaze to the leaves above his head. “I know you were looking for Minho, and I know finding my brother and all those other kids was just circumstances, but you saved him, and you brought him back to me. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life alone in a library, and now, I have friends, and a family.”

“He seems very close with Minho?” Thomas eventually responded, and you let out a laugh, a sound of agreement leaving you.

“He said Minho would look after him when they were locked up. Minho’s cell was the one across the way from his. He said Min used to pull funny faces through the glass for him, and would always tell him it would be okay when the lot of them were rounded up for tests. Minho was the older sibling he had when I couldn't be there for him, I guess.” You chuckled sadly at the end of your sentence, the quiet fading back in around your both. “This is where I like to come to think, and that's why when I saw your drawing of this mountain, it was my favourite.”

“I’m really happy you brought me here. It’s incredible, I didn’t think I’d ever get to see anywhere this beautiful, or have enough time to stop and enjoy it.”

“Well, there’s a lot of other places I can show you, if you’d like to see some more?” You offered, sitting up and pulling your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, his hand twitching by his side with the wish to reach out, and so he did, his fingertips trailing along your arm slowly from where he lay, your head twisting to look at him over your shoulder, a soft smile on your face.

“I would like you to show me everything there is in life, I think I’m ready to start living it.”

He was desperate to get back out there and do something with you. His friends had already commented on his change in mood, when Thomas had started joining in with the conversations at the table. He didn’t speak much, but he added his opinion, and he laughed at jokes. He was confident enough to lift his head and actually look at the people sitting around him, instead of trying to make himself as small as possible.

For the first time in a long time, Thomas didn’t mind being seen by the people around him.

Each day when he woke up, he found himself looking up at the peak of the mountain he could see, remembering the view he’d been given, and how different things could look from different perspectives. Today, was different, though. He was practically buzzing with excitement from the second your little brother had been seen zooming between the tables to find his older friend, his arms wrapping around Minho’s neck from behind in a hug, and he knew any minute now, you would be making your appearance.

He was shocked at his own eagerness. This time two weeks ago, the only space that felt comfortable was his own bedroom, and now, he was starting to get antsy if he didn’t expand further than his own hut to the kitchens and back. He wanted to explore, he wanted to see more, do more, be more.

His thrill was bubbling over as he watched you calmly making your way toward the group, your bag sealed on your back again as you braised your hair behind your back as you walked, your eyes catching Thomas’ in a wink, his teeth flashed to you as he smiled. He didn’t need any encouragement from his friends this time, he was on his feet on his own, meeting you halfway up the path, and he didn’t care about all the eyes of his friends on his back as he met you, and he didn’t bother hiding the pep in his step.

“Hi, Tommy. You’re bright today?”

“Hm, and you’re like sunshine. Are we doing something today?” He pressed, a laugh falling from your lips at his urgency, his hands gripping yours desperately as you hummed, pretending to think it over as he whined impatiently, and eventually you caved and laughed.

“Yes, we are. Do you not like just hanging around the camp? A little too boring for you?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“You promised to show me everything there is in life, and so far, all I’ve seen is the camp.” He huffed, jokingly, and you beamed.

“There’s a lot more to life than sights, Tommy. I’m going to show you everything, in time.” He whined again at your response. “You have a whole life to enjoy everything now, Tommy, nothing is a rush anymore. Let me show you how to take things slow.” His jaw hung open, and you pushed a finger under his chin to close it. “Why don’t you go and pack us a lunch, and I’ll meet you in a minute?”

With a nod, Thomas had bolted off, watching as you made your way over to your little brother, your words from the summit echoing in his mind as he watched you kiss the top of the boys head, thanking Minho for caring for him for another day. Frypan helped him, a grin on the boy’s lips as he looked between Thomas and you, but he didn’t care about his heated cheeks now, and he thanked his friend for the food, and the subtle extra rations he’s packed for you both. Clutching the food in his hands, you were weaving between the tables.

With an open bag, you let him stuff all the food in, before sealing it carefully. Before you had lifted it up, he had taken it from you, slinging it up onto his own shoulders and adjusting it on his back. “You carried it last time, it’s only fair I carry it this time.” He shrugged off the act, letting you lead the way as you headed off on your next journey.

This time, you had spent a few hours walking through the thick forestry of the island. It was a whole different kind of incredible, the from the flowers that littered the ground in fields and meadows to the animals he caught sight of as they went along, and you would point them out, telling them the names and little fun facts you’d learnt about them from all the reading you had done during your alone time in the scorch.

When you reached your final destination, however, he was torn for a favourite between this one and your last one. The pool of blue water before him looked so tempting that he just wanted to dive in headfirst, ripples spreading out across the surface from the waterfall that was crashing loudly from so far above, water spraying up as the sun trickled through the tree canopy in certain spots, lighting up the whole area with a certain transcendental glow.

You looked around the area, settling on a spot to set up camp as you took his hand gently, pulling him over to the shaded spot, and he placed the bag down, leaning it against the tree. He could feel the cool air coming from the force of the water cascading down from above, but it wasn’t quite close enough for the spray to get onto the bag, and he knew it was the perfect place to sit.

You didn’t sit, however. This time, when you toed off your shoes, your socks followed, being tucked into the sneakers you had discarded. “I’m gonna’ swim.” Before he had a chance to question it, you were tugging your shirt up and over your head, the shorts you were wearing soon dropping to the floor to join your pile of clothing and he averted his gaze, heat travelling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. The sound of your feet moving away from him sounded out, and you were trailing up the edge of a rock, not too high, but enough to jump into a deeper section of the pool as you looked over carefully.

“Wait!” He had called out to you before he could stop himself, and you turned to look at him, wobbling on the edge of the rock as he stopped you a split second before you jumped, and he was pulling his own top over his head, struggling to stop himself down to his boxers in a hurry as his forgotten clothes mixed with yours in a heap on the grass, his feet carrying him across the warm stone to stand beside you. “I want to swim too.”

His words were mumbled shyly, sure he just made a fool of himself in a bid to get his clothes off, but you smiled at him, your hand held out to him, and he took it tightly. You offered him a count of three, and he took it, his nerves crawling back as he remembered the last time he had jumped into water, his eyes on the pool below changing as images of the deep and freezing water of the last city flashed in his memory. With a deep breath, he pushed down the fear, your hand only tightening around his as he pushed off from the rock, falling for only a second, before he was plunging into the water below.

Everything about this experience was different, and he loved it.

The water didn’t stab at him, a thousand tiny needles as the freezing temperature swept over him, but instead it was warm, like being wrapped in a blanket, and your hand in his reassured him, his legs kicking to drag himself up to the surface. He emerged just a second before you did, gasping for breath and using his free hand to smooth back the hair that was sticking to his forehead, pushing it back and away in messy styles up his head as you emerged from below.

You were laughing, water trickling down your skin as you wiped the water from your eyes, kicking your legs beside his to stay afloat, and your touch never left his, your joint hands floating on the surface of the water between the two of you. You twisted, rolling onto your back and bobbing on the surface of the water, limbs spread out like a starfish, and he followed suit, the two of you floating in the pool with the ripples, the sound of rushing water being the only sound to fill the air.

“This is nice.”

“Just nice?” You questioned, your gaze finding his as you tugged on his arm, angling the two of you better until you were floating side by side, your shoulder and the length of his arm brushing against yours.

“No. It’s surreal.” He paused, taking a few deep breaths and rolling his lower lip between his teeth as he thought about his words. “I don’t feel like I’m really here. I feel like.. like I’m going to wake up at some point, in some WCKD lab being tested on. That none of this is real. That you’re not real.” His words trailed off in a whisper and you were quiet beside him for a moment, and he panicked, trying to backtrack out of the conversation when he felt the water beside him stir.

You were stood up, your feet only just reaching the bottom as you stood, the water lapping around your upper ribs and you pulled him toward you, guiding him into the same position. Your hand left his, trailing up his arm, as your other hand copied, until both your hands were cupping his cheeks. His lip trembled as you held him with nothing but pure adoration and compassion, tears lining his eyes.

“I miss Chuck, and Winston. I miss my friends, and I can always see their faces in my mind but I’m starting to forget what their voices sound like.” His voice cracked toward the end of his sentence, a hot tear leaking from his eye and you were quick to wipe it away with your thumb.

“It’s okay to cry here. It's okay to cry with me.” You assured him, and he felt the lump in his throat building. The moment the first tear had fallen, more were following, and soon his chest was heaving up and down as he struggled to breathe, loud sobs falling from his lips as his eyes closed. His hands found your hips, and you let him pull you closer until his forehead was resting against yours, your hands holding him as he shook, and spilled everything that was bringing him pain.

He told you every single name of everybody who he had met and lost along the way, having memorised each face and name. He sobbed about his fears, and how he tried his best but it just didn’t seem like enough and how he would’ve done things differently had he a second chance. By the time he’d finished spilling his heart out to you, his face was buried into your neck as he tried to calm his whimpers, and his arms were wrapped so tightly around your waist, your chest pressed so tightly to his that water no longer moved between you as two separate beings, but as one, around you both.

Your fingers were running through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you shushed him softly. Despite the sadness that had come over him, he felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest, like suddenly it was taken from his shoulders. He’s confessed his deepest, darkest worries and thought and now they were out in the open he felt like light was beginning to fill those crevices. He felt like he could breathe again.

Walking him backwards gently, he let you move his body, his face adjusting on your shoulder until his nose was nuzzling against bare skin, because for this moment, while you held him as tightly as he was holding you, he didn’t feel the stress of the world, or the pressure of being the boy who took down WCKD, or even of the greenie that killed a griever. When you held him, he just felt like Thomas, and he wasn’t ready to let that go just yet.

The water moved further and further down his body the further you moved him, until it was barely lapping his toes, and the soles of his feet were moving against warm and dry rock. Your hands slipped to his cheeks, pulling his face back until he was looking at you and you wiped your fingers under his eyes carefully, clearing away any last tears. Dropping from his sight, you tugged him down, water running from both of your bodies and back to the pool as you laid out on the warm stone.

His legs buckled under him from the exhaustion of his emotions and he laid down gently beside you, his head tilting to the side as he looked at you, licking over his lips as he tried to build up the courage to ask the question he so wanted to ask. It took him a minute, and a lot of false starts, but you waited patiently, and he smiled lightly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Will you please hold me?”

When he opened them again, you had rolled onto your back, your arms held out for him as you wiggled your fingers and he shuffled forwards, his cheek resting on your shoulder as your arms closed around him. One of his arms slung across your waist, the other resting above his head as he ran his fingers through your hair, the same way yours were doing to him, and he toyed with the loose strands that had slipped free from your braid.

Your eyes had fluttered closed, but your hold remained on him, leaving soft and reassuring touches on his skin occasionally. He had the bravery to let his own eyes close, and though sleep never came, he wasn’t scared of his own mind for once, because Thomas quickly realised that the feel of your arms around him grounded him more than anything ever had, and you would be there to help him, no matter what flashed in his mind.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but by the time he finally felt better, your hair had dried and there were no longer trails or water on the rocks, but his stomach was growling, and the sun had moved far from the place it had held overhead, and was instead, was heading towards the horizon as the colours in the sky changes into pastel shades.

You had a layer of goosebumps on your skin from the air becoming cooler, and he shifted, your eyes cracking open to watch him as he stretched out, spreading himself out like a starfish on the rock. You eased yourself up onto your feet, pulling your braid loose and shaking it free, your hair falling in ripples down your back. You held your hands out to him, and he whines as he took them.

“Can’t we just stay here forever? I like it here.” You pulled him to his feet, laughing as he spoke, and you shook your head, making your way over to your clothes and picking through the pile to find yours.

“There’s a lot more to see yet, a lot more to do, a lot more to experience. We can’t do it all here.” He grumbled under his breath, tugging his own clothes on, and grabbing the bag, rooting through it for his long-forgotten lunch. He handed your’s to you too, and the two of you stood under the trees, enjoying your lunch and chatting aimlessly as you ate, enjoying the last of the sights before you were ready to head back.

When that time eventually came, the sun was sinking low, a golden hue cast over everything and making it seem entirely different than it had in the regular light. As you began the walk back, he’s been bold enough to skin his fingers down the inside of your arm to hold your hand, and you’d laced your fingers with his instead, your shoulders bumping and brushing as your fingers remained intertwined for the whole journey.

He was happy to be home after a long day, but the closer the two of you got to the camp, the more his stomach began to sink as he realised that his time with you was ending, and when you finally emerged from the shrubbery and plantlife and back into what they would term civilisation, his feet became rooted to the spot, his hand still holding yours tightly and tugging on your arm to bring you to a stop.

“W-Will you stay with me for a little longer? We could watch the sunset?”

“I’ll stay with you as long as you’d like, Tommy.” Your thumb rubbed over his knuckles, tugging him back into motion gently as you walked together toward the huts. “Let me go and get my brother ready for bed, and then I’ll come and find you, if you want to choose us a spot to watch from?”

“I’ll see you soon, then.” You leaned up, pressing another kiss to his cheek before pushing your bag down his shoulders, taking it with you as you moved toward the collection of huts all sitting in the middle of the encampment. He had chosen a spot on the grass, looking out over the water, and the area around him had begun to grow quiet when he finally heard you approaching.

Your footsteps were light, and he turned his head to look up at you, a large blanket wrapped around your shoulders for warmth. When you reached him, you took it off, draping it over his cold skin and he held an arm out for you, letting you tuck yourself back under the blanket. His hand slipped down along your side, sitting on your waist and his cold fingers slipped under the edge of your shirt to sit on the warm skin of your waist as you huddled together, your head resting on his shoulder.

Shades of orange and pink fanned out across the sky in a way that looked almost like a painting, before fading into purples and blues, the deep ebony of the sky coming in as stars twinkled above the two of you. When Thomas finally tore his gaze away from the sky, he found your eyes closed, and he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, your breathing slow and steady, and he realised you were asleep.

He rested the top of his head against yours for a second, biting at the inside of his cheek to hold in the smile that wanted to break through. Warmth was filling his body and he used his free arm to shrug the blanket off from around you both, before scooping you up under your legs and lifting you to his chest.

He walked as steadily as he could, weaving between cabins as he tried to remember which one had been yours, and he nudged the door open with his foot gently. The empty room was dark, but the moonlight coming in from the clear night sky was enough to guide him as he placed you on top of your covers gently. Taking your shoes from your feet, your body shifting sleepily as he tried to pull the blankets out from under you, your hand reaching out to find his and he lifted it for you, your fingers lacing with his as you pulled your joint hands to your chest happily.

“You can stay if you’d like. You don’t have to walk all the way home. You can stay with me.” You mumbled out your words, pressing a kiss to his knuckles gently and he reached behind him, but he hesitated at your offer. He wanted to, he really wanted to, but he couldn't ruin your sleep like his own was always ruined. “I’ll hold you through your nightmares, it’ll be okay.”

With a soft sigh and a kiss to your knuckles, he was kicking your door shut and toeing off his own shoes before easing himself down onto the bed beside you. The second he let his head hit the pillow, your own head found a place on his chest, your legs wrapping between his as your snuggled into him, and he held onto you tightly. Leaving a lingering brush of his lips against your hairline, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

For the first night in over a year, Thomas had a dreamless sleep. No terrors, no nightmares, nothing.

He was shocked or wake up in the morning and find you still curled in his arms in the same way, and that he was more rested than he ever had been. The second you had woken up and asked him about the smile on his face, he’d told you about his progress, and you’d been just as happy as he was. In his joy, he let it slip just how cute he thought you looked with a messy bed head and the morning sun rays around you, both of you blushing as he let the confession slip. He refused to leave the bed, instead, he held you tightly to his chest until your hunger for food had become too much and you’d forced him to release you so you could get up.

He watched you move about, stretching your body out in the morning and finding yourself a fresh set of clothing to wear, the ones you had slept in becoming uncomfortable on your skin now. “You staying here or are you coming to breakfast?” He teased, and when he made no effort to move, you held your hand out to him, your fingers spread out invitingly for him to sleep his own between, and with a groan, he forced himself up.

The second his shoes were on and his fingers laced with yours, you’d been moving him toward the table. That day, he was bold enough to queue up for his own food, your hand in his giving him the confidence to do so. That afternoon, your brother had approached him, asking Thomas if he wanted to join his team to play soccer against some other kids, and he’d accepted.

That night, after you had bid your brother could night and returned to your own cabin, you’d allowed him to crawl under the sheets with you again, slipping into a dreamless and peaceful sleep. As the weeks turned into months, and more time passed them by, and Thomas found himself spending less and less time in his own hut, but found more and more of his things appearing. He’d stopped taking his laundry and belongings back to the place he barely visited now, and instead simply unpacked them into your drawers with your clothes.

The day he came home to find you wearing one of his shirts as pyjamas, was the day his heart stopped in his chest for a few seconds as he looked at you. It was also the day he began to wonder, if home really meant a place, or if it might be a person to him instead.

Thomas wasn’t really a jealous person. He knew you didn’t want to date Gally, but up until now, the most time you had both spent with anyone else was for mealtimes, or walking on the beach with your brother.

But, as the safe haven grew bigger, a couple of the adults had realised that a lot of these kids had been taken and put into mazes and experiments before even learning basic things. All the younger kids had started attending classes, learning to read and write, learning their history and some basic survival skills. Now he was active and around, Thomas had started working to chip in like everyone else. He helped Newt in the gardens, and helped clear land to build more homes.

For the first time ever, their whole group was free for a day, your brother was attending his classes and making new friends his own age, and he knew you were just being friendly, but he couldn’t help but want all your attention on him. You were chatting and laughing with the boy he could now call friend, but now he was standing along as everybody else interacted and thought about the plans for the day, but Thomas didn’t want anyone else right now, he wanted you.

As though reading his mind, you never turned away from your conversation, but you must have felt his burning and longing gaze on you, because your arm lifted from your side, stretching out in his direction as you flexed your hand at him, the same way you always did when you were telling him it was okay for him to hold your hand. With hurried steps, he stumbled to your side, both of his hands holding yours and he gave Gally a polite smile before pressing a kiss to your temple in thanks.

He felt better, because you were giving him attention even when you weren’t giving him attention.

He knew he couldn't occupy your time all the time, that wasn’t how things worked, but he liked to have all the time he could get, because he would happily give you every single second of every single day of his time if you’d let him. But, that’s not what life was. Life was knowing yourself better than anyone else, and it was knowing that the only person who had to spend every moment with you, was yourself. That life was nothing, if you couldn't love yourself.

You had taught him that, and you had taught him to love himself. He was proud of who he was, and he no longer looked back in negativity. As the year so far had passed you had taken his worries and regrets and crafted them into something beautiful. You had made them into something he was proud of, something he could look back on with fondness and nostalgia, and miss those he had lost without feeling like he had failed, and he would never be able to repay you for giving him his life back.

Nuzzling his nose against your hair, he held onto you tightly, enjoying the warmth of your side as his front pressed up against you. Your conversation with the other boy continued on for a while, but he waited patiently, and when it finally finished, he was quick to land hands on both of your hips as turn you towards him. Sliding his hands around your back to meet in the middle, he laced his own fingers behind you, pulling you closer to him until he could prop his chin on the top of your head.

His fingers were weaving through your hair, and he was happy just holding you, until Newt’s voice called out to the both of you; “We’ve settled on spending the day at the beach. Are you coming or what?”

You glanced up at him, and he looked between you and his friend, nodding in response and you cheered happily, breaking away from his grasp to high five the blond boy as you told him just how much you loved the beach. When you returned to him, your hands had found his shoulders, propelling yourself into the air until your legs were wrapping around his waist from behind, your arms circling his neck and he chuckled at your actions, his hands coming down to grip your thighs as he adjusted you on his back.

You had clung to him for the whole walk down to the beach, mumbling comments and jokes in his ear as you went, keeping his mood light and peppy. It was a hot day, the end of the summer and yet the heat was still dragging out, the sun burning overhead as the boys set up a makeshift set of nets, a soccer ball that had been washed up on the beach.

By the time lunch was rolling around, the girls had long since decided to tan in their swimwear, and the boys had stripped off their shirts in the heat, having abandoned their soccer match to lie on the sand. Thomas did a lot with his friends, and he almost felt bad for himself for having missed all this fun the year before, but the year before, he was still stuck in his bad dreams, and a year before, he hadn’t met you yet.

He was always close though, you were always within his sights, no matter what you were doing, and he’s watched you lay and tan as the sea had pulled out on the shore, and then he’d watched you explore rock pools and pick out shells you liked until the tide was coming back in. As the sea came in deep enough that you wouldn’t reach the rocks, you and the other girls had gone swimming, standing happily in the waves and gossiping.

You were too far away now, he still had his feet on the dry sand while you were more than waist-deep in the sea. Luckily for him, Minho had decided to break up your girl chatter, racing into the sea aggressively and making as much splashing as he could as fast as possible. He could hear Sonya’s angry shouts from here, Harriet and Brenda both splashing him back aggressively as you cringed away from the saltwater in your face, and he smirked as he watched you back away from the boy, only for Newt to join him, and soon, he was following the boys into the water.

He could barely see through the splashing going on around him now, saltwater flying up from every angle in a blinding wall but he followed the sound of your laugh, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind and shielding you, turning you away from the ruckus, your laugh bubbling against his chest as you shook in his arms with your giggles. His lips found your cheek in a wet kiss, and he cringed as he pulled away.

“You taste like the sea.”

“Well I’m wearing half the ocean thanks to Minho.” You joked, and Thomas spun you in his arms.

“Want a bit of revenge?” You nodded happily, and he mumbled a plan to the two of you, before quickly dunking under the water. You waited, the Asian boy screaming out in shock as he was suddenly lifted from the water, his legs dangling from Thomas’ shoulders as the boy emerged from under the water and he fell backwards from his perch, hands flailing as the group laughed, Minho spluttering once he emerged.

“You’re so dead, Thomas! Newt, get on my back!” The blond boy didn’t have to be told twice, and Sonya squealed, hopping up onto Aris’ back as Brenda jumped up onto Frypan’s, Harriet lifting her hands and backing away in surrender and Thomas turned to you with a cheeky grin.

“We can take ‘em.”

“Yeah, we can!” You yelled, and he crouched down, your legs sealing around his waist once again as your splash battle took off. Water was tossed and thrown, bodies falling back into the water and reappearing on repeat, until everyone had swallowed enough water and was wearing enough seaweed to call it a truce. You were still sitting behind him, picking seaweed and grit out of his hair happily as the temperature of the eater began to catch up to you.

The sun was sinking toward the place the sky met the land and the chill was beginning to sweep in. Twisting in his grip, he released your thighs, expected you to slide to the ground, but instead, you swivelled around, your arms tightening around his waist in the water and your arms around his neck as you looked at him now.

His hands circled your back, pulling you closer to him, the breath between you shared. “Did you have fun today, Tommy.”

“One of the best days of my life.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose and relishing in the low giggle he earned for the action. His hands smoothed up along the skin of your back, playing with the strap of your bra before sliding back down, his fingers tingling as he touched you, his forehead resting on yours. “I don’t know where I’d be without you. You changed my life.”

“I didn’t change anything. I just showed you how to make the most of the one life you get.” You shivered in his grasp, and he began to walk the pair of you back towards the shore, your legs dropping to walk on your own when the water dipped below your waist, and his fingers found yours to weave them together. As the sky darkened and the light faded away, your group made their way through the crowds to the showers to wash off the sand and salt, and he finally let you go as you stepped into one of the cubicles.

When he emerged, you were still showering, and he changed quickly, racing down to the kitchens, water still dripping from his hair as he joined the dinner queue. Vince served him two bowls of soup, and two portions of bread, commenting on how nice it was to see him and he made the walk back up to the showers to meet you, only to find them empty when he arrived.

He panicked, he didn’t want you to think he’d left you, and he made the quick route to the cabin the two of you now shared, trying not to spill the hot food on his hands as he moved. When he opened the door, you had changed into one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, and you were lighting candles delicately as he burst through the door. In your shock, you had dropped the match to the floor, the stick putting itself out and you grumbled, picking it up carefully and disposing of it.

“I just went to get soup!” He panted, and you chuckled, making your way over to him and taking one of the bowls.

“I see that, honey. Why are you stressing out? You haven’t been stressed for a long time.” His heart warmed at the pet name you reserved just for him when the two of you were alone, and he shrugged carefully as he sat down with his own meal.

“I don’t know. I wanted to surprise you but you were gone from the showers, and I just panicked, I guess..” You looked at him with a soft gaze, swallowing your food and continuing to eat in happy silence. He was no longer shocked by your ability to calm him so quickly, instead, he found comfort in it.

He had long since realised that he would never be able to live without you, you were everything to him, and you didn’t even know it.

He had gone to return to dishes, dashing through the calm and cool night to put them back, and when he’d returned, you were already tucked into the pillows, candles blown out and blanket peeled back for him. He took his place on the usual side of the bed, and instead of turning you back to him as you usually would so he could pull you close to his chest, you faced him.

Your hand came up to rest on his face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone carefully. “I have to tell you something, but I don’t want you to panic.” You whispered, voice carrying in the darkness and his heart rate sped up, a nervous chuckle leaving him.

“That’s like asking a dog not to bark.” He muttered, but the air was tense around you both.

“It’s been a while since anyone did a supply run, a good few months. We need more stuff and we have been building so strong, we have the capacity to save more people, now.” He didn’t like where this was going, and he reached up to hold your hand over his cheek, squeezing tightly as his heart raced. “Vince asked me if I would go with them.”

“Please tell me you said no?” He questioned, but the silence in the air answered for him, and he heard himself sniffle in the darkness, your cooing following, as he tried not to cry. “I don’t want you to go. I can’t come with you.” He wished with everything he had that he could go with you to look after you, but despite how much he processed it, he knew he couldn’t talk you out of it just like he could never go back there. “When do you leave?”

You sighed, the question hanging over him for a second and the longer it was before he got a reply the heavier his heart felt. “The day after tomorrow.”

“F-for how long?” His voice was croaky, and he let a single tear slip from his eye and drip into the pillow below his head, sniffling deeply to push down how he felt.

“About a month.” He brought your hand to his lips, pressing shaky kisses to your palm, and the tips of each finger as he thought about the situation. You should move the rest of you things in while I’m gone. If we’re bringing more people back, we’ll need all the huts we can get, and you haven’t been back there in weeks. I don’t want you to close in on yourself just because I’m gone, honey.”

“I won't, I promise.” He wiped at his eyes, shuffling closer to press his lips to your forehead tenderly, before holding you there, your arms wrapping around each other. “I’ll go to breakfast and dinner every single day, I swear it. And, I’ll do extra work with Newt in the gardens, to fill my time. I’ll spend time with your brother, he wants to build a treehouse with me.”

He felt you tip your head to press a kiss to his jaw as he spoke, before you yawned tiredly. “He would love that. He thinks you’re the best, he loves you as much as he loves Minho.” You mumbled, face buried in his shirt as you drifted off to sleep.

The following day, you had told everyone about your trip, and they were shocked or find out that this would be the last full day in which they see you for a month. That night, Newt had arranged a bonfire for your departure, and Gally had whipped up a batch of his secret recipe drink. Frypan had stolen chunks of chicken and rolls of bread from the kitchens, and as the night rolled in, Thomas had found himself sitting on a log with you, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as funny stories were shared between the group.

A fire so tall he could barely see through the flames to the other side curled up into the air, sparks and still burning ash trickling away on the wind, and his hands were grasping a stick with a piece of chicken on, the same as everyone else, as you roasted bits of food. You were giggling, the effects of Gally’s drink hitting you, and your head rested on his shoulder, his own resting on top of yours as he simply listened to you talk to his British friend, spinning the stick in his hands as he watched the chicken rotate and cook on the end.

He had missed it at first, but he jumped as he let his gaze flick over it one again. Your grip had grown slack, the heavier end of the stick sipping closer to the centre of the fire and the meat on the end of your stick had actually caught fire itself. Not only was your chicken ruined, but you hadn’t noticed the flames crawling along the thin wood pole towards your fingers, and he yelped, slapping at your hands to get you to drop it.

Your gaze found his, brows furrowed as you looked at him, following his trial of vision until you saw the fire half-way up the stick, a shocked sound leaving you as you threw the whole thing into the flames, your eyes wide as the group cracked up laughing at the incident. With a pout, you picked up your drink, swilling the almost empty glass around before taking a sip of the liquid.

“My chicken..” You grumbled, huffing through your nose and he chuckled, nudging you with the elbow pressed between you both as he pulled his stick back from the flames, showing you the perfectly roasted piece of meat.

“You can share mine, sweetheart.” Turning to look at him, your pout was replaced with a cute smile, and he grinned at the sight of it, his head dipping forward to bump his nose against yours.

“Thanks, Tommy.”

“Anything for you.” His nose nuzzled against yours a little longer, his forehead pressed or yours happily as you waited for the food to cool, before he held it out in your direction, letting you take the first bite. You shared the stolen treat between you both, sharing your bread out equally as well, until both of you had enough to fill you.

You stayed out staring at the dying embers until all the warmth was gone and the night was dark and cold once again. You had hugged each of your friends goodbye, all of them bidding you well on your trip, cracking jokes and promising to do something fun when you returned. You had walked back to your cabin in silence, leaving one candle lit by the bedside as the two of you lay down.

Something was different tonight. It was the first time Thomas was going to have to say goodbye to you, the first time he faced having to on his own for a while, and though he knew he could handle it, he was still worried. Not for himself, but for you.

You looked after everyone else, but who was going to be looking after you out there.

His thoughts were swirling and dragging him down to the depths as you played with his fingers, your eyes on him as he avoided your gaze in the low lighting of the room, your breath washing over his face from your close proximity. When your hand finally stilled, you called out to him, the sound of your voice dragging back to reality.

“Don’t get lost in your head. I’m going to be fine.” You whispered, and he nodded cautiously, eyes scanning over every inch of your face, memorising your features. For once, his heart wasn’t racing, and his nerves weren’t electrified. Anxiety wasn’t coursing through his veins, and Thomas had never been so sure of his actions or his feelings in his entire life.

Leaning in, his lips met yours softly, his eyes closing as he pushed into you, enjoying the soft sound you made, your hand coming up to lace in his hair, your legs tangling with his as you pulled yourself closer to him and he circled his arms around your waist, rolling onto his back. His fingers gripped your hips as his mouth moved slowly and passionately against yours, the air around him seeming to tingle each time he pulled back for breath only for your lips to meet again, and his tongue traced the seam of your lips, to which you happily parted them for him.

Tentatively, his tongue dipped out, playing with yours between your cheeks and a low moan left him, your whimper being muffled between the loving exchanges you shared, and eventually, you pulled back for air, pressing your lips to his in a final and chaste peck, leaving the same on his nose. You collapsed down onto his chest, tiredness creeping into his body, but he could feel the smile he held being returned on your own lips, your face pressed into his neck.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Tommy. I’m coming back to you, don’t worry.”

Your pledge held him steady as he fell asleep, your body weight on top of his making him feel safe and secure, and your confession of love making him feel warm and comfy in your embrace.

When Thomas woke up alone, the large ship on the horizon gone from sight, he wanted to get back into your bed, hold your pillow close to his chest so he could smell you, and simply wait it out until you returned. But, he didn’t.

He joined his friends for breakfast, just as he had promised he would do, because he wanted to make you proud.

His nerves were wracked. He had been sitting on the beach here for hours, ever since he’d seen the ship peek over the horizon as a tiny dot, and he’d practically been rocking with anticipation as it grew closer and closer. The small steamboat that had been bobbing on the shore was finally fired up as he watched the anchors be dropped from the main ship, the small one beginning to fill up for it’s multiple trips to and from to carry everyone back to the shore.

Firstly, came the newcomers. Shaken up and in awe, he remembered that same look being on his own face two years ago when he woke up, and one year ago when you’d started showing him how to truly live. The next shipload carried all the supplies, and Thomas was impressed by how well you had all done. It took almost forty-five minutes, he was timing it on his watch, to unload it all, the boxes being carried up the beach to put away.

Finally, the little boat departed again, and he stood up, his legs shaky and nervous underneath him, and he distracted himself by wiping the sand from his jeans, brushing himself down and straightening out his clothes.

He messed with his hair, ruffling it and flattening it, his hands continually running through it, and the little carrier ship finally came to a stop. He squinted, but he couldn't make anyone out, merely shapes unloading carefully and climbing aboard, and it seemed to take hours before it was slowly making its way back toward the beach.

He still couldn’t see you, amongst what seemed like a sea of bodies, he couldn't pick out your face, and his leg began to jerk and his foot tapping at the floor, adrenaline and anxiety riddling his body. Coming to a stop, the boat piled out, person after person and he watched carefully for you.

The last few people were making their way off, and he was sure the entire nail on his thumb was gone from how much he had bitten it, when at last, he saw you. You were battered and bruised, your shoulders sagging with exhaustion and you feet dragging. Your shirt was torn, and your bag was slung over one shoulder, but you had a tired smile on your face as you hopped down onto the sand, making your way up the beach.

He was calling out to you before he’d even registered it, his feet carrying him in rapid footsteps towards you and you looked up, your bright eyes meeting his and how he had missed seeing them looking into his own. You dropped your bag from your shoulder, your arms lifting tiredly up and open for him and he skidded to a stop before you, his body crashing into yours as he held you tightly.

Finally, after all this waiting, you were back in his arms, and he pressed a kiss to your hair as he buried his face in your neck, his body trembling desperately and you held onto him, your hands coming up to squeeze around his waist as he cupped the back of your head, the other hand resting on your arm.

“Tommy, baby, you’re shaking. It’s okay, I’m okay!”

“I missed you so much!” His eyes were lined with tears when he eventually let you pull back to look at him, and he watched as you own eyes filled with tears while you looked at him.

“I missed you too.” Dipping his head, he pressed breathless kisses to your lips, trailing them up across your cheeks, covering your face with the touches as he tried to steady himself. His hands slid down your arms to lace his fingers with yours, and his foreheads pressed together, and he felt himself finally slipping back into ease and joy now he had you in his arms again.

“I went out every day, like I promised. I hung out with everyone, especially your brother. We hang out the most, he missed you a lot. He can’t wait to see you when his classes end.” You gave him a teary smile at the words and he lifted his hands, not wanting to see tears on your face, whether they were happy or sad. “What do you want to do? You want to sleep, or eat, o-”

“I really want to shower. I’m achy and dirty.” You mumbled, and he kissed your lips one final time, one of his hands leaving yours as he dipped down to pick up your bag, before leading you away. Holding the door open for you, he dropped your bag to the ground, and watched you rifle around for a change of clothes, before dragging yourself toward the cubicles. Your hand never left his, pulling him into the stall with you as you closed the door, and his cheeks heated up as you did.

“You want me to shower with you?” His voice was higher than normal, and he cursed himself at the way it had risen in pitch, showing off his nerves openly. Your eyes were sliding shut you were so fatigued, and his hands found the edges of your shirt, peeling up over your body and stripping you down gently, dirty clothes building a pile on the floor and he pushed them away with his foot.

Twisting the handle for water, the warmth sprayed over your body, a low groan falling from your lips the second it did. He dropped his own clothes to the heap, stepping forwards push you both under the spray of water carefully. With a soft touch, he lathered a bar of soap in his hands, scrubbing the dirt and grime from your skin, the water running discoloured for a while as he removed the sand and filth from you, your face buried in his bare chest as he ran his fingers through your hair, detangling knots and washing away everything that had happened while you were away from him.

When the water was clean once again, he reached for the worn towel, drying you from head to toe before helping you dress into your fresh clothes, only to find you’d brought him a set too. One of his shirts hung from your body, the long sleeves covering your hands as he scooped you up under your legs, the dirty clothes all bundled in the towel and you held the collection as he held you.

You were too tired to eat, you just wanted to sleep, and he was more than happy to do whatever it took to take care of you, as you had been doing for him for so long now. You didn’t care about the light flooding in through the window, you only cared about crawling into your own bed, your hands clinging to him as you dragged him down with you.

“I got you something.”

You sat up slightly, pointing at your bag in the corner and he raised his eyebrows, leaving the bed for just long enough to dig through the bag and pull out the neatly carved little wooden box, the contents jingling and shaking as he held it. Settling back in beside you, he sat up as you rested your head on his chest, an arm around his waist and your legs tangled with his.

He popped the lid open, a selection of tools sitting inside and you covered your mouth as you yawned, hid fingers picking through the instruments he was seeing.

“A wood carving kit?”

“I thought you could carve, like you said Chuck did. It’ll help you feel connected to him.” Tears welled in his eyes as he looked down at you, and he placed the box down, shuffling down until he could brush his lips with yours, your head resting on the pillow beside him.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Your lips flicked up, twitching into a smile at the side. “What are you going to carve first?”

He contemplated it for a minute, humming under his breath, and his fingers trailed along your arms to your hand. “How about a ring-” He tapped the base of your ring finger with his own, circling the space the token of love is supposed to sit. “to go right here?”

You didn’t open your eyes, but you laced your fingers with his, a small laugh leaving you in a breath. “I think I’d like that.” You didn’t say anything after that, you soon fell asleep, but Thomas lay awake, his free hand running through your hair as he simply enjoyed being able to hold you.

His mind drifted to how far he’d come, a grin pulling on his face. This time a year ago, he had been sceptically following you up a mountain, intrigued by the girl who had made him laugh when no one else could. Now, he was holding the love of his life in his arms, his thumb rubbing over the patch on your finger that a ring would soon sit on.

And finally, Thomas knew what was missing. He knew his friends cared for him, loved him, and made him feel safe. But you made him feel different. When he was with you, nothing but pure joy and adoration filled his veins, his heart beating erratically when your eyes met his and you smiled at him with a grin you saved just for his eyes when it was the two of you, the one only he could get from you. When you said his name, his heart soared and he felt like he’d been lifted into the clouds.

When your lips met his, Thomas felt like you were breathing life back into his lungs and showing him a world he’d always dreamed of and never thought he’d get. When he was with you, he didn’t feel like anything was missing, he felt like he was complete.

When he was with you, he felt like he was finally home.

#thomas #thomas the maze runner #thomas tmr #thomas tst #thomas tdc #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #tommy month #tomuary #tom-uary #dylan obrien fic #dylan obrien fluff #dylan o'brien imagine

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i-dont-want-your-hysteria · 5 years ago

Text

In Your Letter (Viv x Reader)

edit: omg I totally forgot to dedicate this to @defkisshalen when I put this in the queue. I hope this is enough “vivian for the soul” for you girl ;D

Prompt: It’s 1983, you’re part of Def Leppard’s road crew on the Pyromania Tour, and you get a letter from your pen pal one day- a pen pal whose identity you keep a secret from everyone else. They all insist you have a huge crush on whoever this mysterious gentleman is, but you know they’re wrong.

Or, are they...?

---------

July 21st, 1983. Victoria, British Columbia, Canada

Checking for the post turned out to be a joyous decision, and you knew right away it would probably be the best decision you'd make all day. As you shuffled through the pile of mail in the back hallway of the venue, you couldn't hide the giddy smile that appeared once you saw the envelope that was addressed to you. Just like that, the day was off to a great start.

It was made out to a "Ms. Y/n L/n" like always. The gentleman-like flattery never failed to touch your heart, and it never failed to signify who had sent the piece of mail your way.

Concealing the envelope under your arm and throwing the other mail on a table for everyone else, you scurried off to a different room for some privacy. This wasn't exactly something you wanted to keep a secret from your surrounding crowd, but you thought it was for the best that you did. You were teased enough already by the crew and the band about your pen pal, and you could only imagine how much worse it would get once they actually knew who you had been writing to (and how often he was writing you back).

You shut the door and quickly threw yourself into a chair, kicking your legs out of excitement as you tore open the envelope. After you extracted the letter, you didn't hesitate another second before unfolding it and slowing down your impulse to carefully read the familiar handwriting.

"Hi, Y/N! I hope this got to you at the right place- since you said this Victoria address would be the one to send to around this time. Either way, it won't be a problem. You know we always make things work somehow. Now normally in this space I'd be answering questions from your last letter, or writing about all the exciting things I've been up to with the band, but I'd rather tell you in person. Yes, you heard me! Surprise! I'll be in Victoria on the 20th and 21st for some promotional reasons, and I'd love to catch up with you when you get there (as long as you're not too busy with Leppard things)! My tour starts on the 23rd, so this will be the only opportunity to meet up for a while. I wrote the number of the hotel I'll be staying at below, so give me a call when you get this, okay? If I don't hear from you by 1pm on the 21st then I'll give your venue a ring just in case you didn't get this letter. We'll sort out details over the phone. Can't wait to talk!!

See you soon (hopefully)! Xx

-V.C.

P.S, Hope you like the candy I sent! Something sweet for the sweetest person I know : )"

There was an arrow pointing to a small wrapped candy he'd taped to the paper, and an unwanted blush washed over you. Despite the bashfulness, you felt yourself bouncing in your seat.

You glanced up at the time to check that wasn't 1 o'clock yet. Luckily, it was only 12:14.

"Still got time," you whispered aloud, just before hearing a muffled cough from somewhere in the room.

You turned around in a snap, squinting, and eventually spotting Phil, Steve, and Malvin hiding behind the coat racks in the room.

"Guys!" you whined as you tried to conceal the contents of the letter, "How long have you been there for?"

"Long before you came in," Malvin stood still, despite knowing you were aware of his presence. Steve poked his head out, "You looked so excited that we didn't wanna ask why-" Phil came all the way out, smirking evilly, "But now we can see..." "You didn't see anything!" you scolded them, but paused and went on in a hushed tone to continue, "Did you...?" "Not a thing," Malvin answered in a truthful tone. It was easier to believe him more than the other two. "But this has to be another letter from your mysterious boyfriend, am I right?" Phil teased. "You make it so obvious!" Steve walked out from hiding with Malvin, "What's the bloke sayin' now?" "For your information, he is not my boyfriend." Phil rolled his eyes sarcastically, "Alright, maybe he's not your boyfriend, but you've gotta admit you have been crushing on him pretty hard the past few months..." "I've gotta agree with them," Malvin chimed in, "You do make it quite obvious." "Says you!" you objected, your voice going higher than you wanted it to, "Can't you just leave us alone? Besides, he also plays guitar- maybe even better than you. Both of you." "Oh yeah?" Phil drew back to feign offense, "Maybe we should meet this bloke and have it out for your hand- being as you've got a thing for guitarists, anyhow." You scoffed and gathered everything up to head back out, "Yeah, you wish I did!" There wasn't any time to waste bickering with them; you now had an important phone call to make, and an important reunion to arrange and follow through with before the show that night. "'Boyfriend'," your mind scoffed at them, "What do they know?"

*** Despite the casual air you and your faraway friend always had, you felt an invisible pressure to be sufficiently presentable for him. It was a special occasion, regardless of what the others thought, so with limited time and resources, you ended up slipping into the Leppards' dressing room and snagging some makeup for your own use. You agreed to meet up for dinner with your pen pal (as you still had things to do prior to the show), and you snuck out of the venue at five without being seen or stopped by anyone. Before you knew it, you were approaching the restaurant that was agreed to host the rendezvous. Somewhere in the back of your mind, part of you felt like you were headed to a date. "Ugh, that's Phil and Steve's fault. All that 'Is he your boyfriend?' and 'You've been crushing on him' bullshit." You had long convinced yourself into thinking the guitarists were wrong about the second half of that. You had been writing back and forth to this friend for the better part of 6 months, and during the run of those 6 months, your heart never failed to flutter whenever you interacted with each other. To you, that didn't mean you were "crushing" on him (as Phil had so bluntly put it); you were just excited! When your hand touched the door of the restaurant, you felt your heart accelerate, and your mind was suddenly flooded with all the reasons why you couldn't wait to see him again. You had every reason to be as thrilled as you were. After all, he was an interesting guy, you never got tired while talking to him, he had such a sweet way with words and a guitar, and even just thinking of his accent and eyes made your heart melt- You froze, realizing you were getting too caught up in yourself. You pushed open the door and stood in the entrance, glancing around the establishment to see if he'd arrived yet. The sound of Since You're Gone patted against your eardrums as you looked around the warm, chestnut interior of the restaurant. The instant you found him was sure to make your heart soar with joy, but as luck would have it, he found you first. "Y/N! Over here!" an Irish brogue caressed the words that were called out to you. When your eyes found him, you felt yourself lift off the ground at the happy sight. There he was, sitting in a booth, quickly getting up to greet you. There he was, the curly-haired, bright-eyed Dio guitarist himself. There he was, your dearest Vivian Campbell. You embraced and cheerfully greeted each other before you could get to the table. He kissed your cheek, and you stood on your toes when you hugged him back, feeling as if you somehow found a home away from home. "How did you manage to get this set up on such short notice?" you asked, amazed at how everything fell into place. "Carefulness and luck?" he chuckled before pulling back and eyeing up your whole appearance, "Wow... you look wonderful, Y/N. I swear you've gotten taller, too- cos' I could've sworn I had more height on you last time we met..." "Oh really? And I could've sworn you were less Irish when we last met!" you teased him back. He put his arm around you, leading you back to the table, "I guess when you travel so much, you wanna get back in touch with your roots a bit." "Oh, don't you change a bit," you warned as you took a seat across from him, "You're the only thing that keeps me sane, you know. The entertainment industry can be a little too entertaining at times." "Oh, I know what you mean," Viv started to pour water into the two empty glasses on the table, "We're on different sides of the same coin; the performers and the road crew." "It's nice to sit down and do something simple that's not related to the tour for once, you know? Just so there's a reminder that our typical lives still exist outside of all that." He pushed one glass of water towards you, softly smiling, "Couldn't have said it better myself." "Well then," you raised your glass towards him to make a small toast, "To sanity." He raised his own glass to add on, "And to a conversation that's not on paper for once." *** The sunset had completely taken over the sky once you and Viv were finished with dinner. Both knowing that you had to leave for the Leppard show soon, you took a short walk up to the quiet rooftop terrace of the restaurant to continue your conversation. Sitting next to each other on a bench and overlooking the city in the evening glow, an imminent 'parting of ways' sensation was in the air. You nearly felt like a modern-day Cinderella; the clock nearing the fated time where you had to scurry off from the ball and leave your prince. "Prince?" you nagged yourself, "God, there I go again! Those Leppard boys are getting too much into my head. Talk about having evil stepsisters..." It seemed all there was left for you and your Irish 'prince' to do was reflect on whatever was to come next in your lives. With the tour getting kicked up a notch for you, and his just beginning, it was impossible to know exactly what directions both of you were headed in. Given that, not knowing when you'd see each other again should've been the main topic at this point in the evening, but neither of you wanted to bring it up. It seemed like a future problem, not a problem for the present, so all things on that matter were quieted. "So, do you think this tour is gonna keep Def Leppard on the rise?" Viv asked you, breaking the silence at one point, "I hear they're getting bigger and bigger, and as far I'm concerned, they deserve it." "Oh you have no idea- things seem to get crazier every night, I swear! The word 'rise' is putting it delicately. 'Domination' is more like it. I just hope it doesn't go to their heads..." "You've got enough messes to clean up already, I get it. You're like the mum of the whole band." You let your eyes float upwards to the clouds as you got more lost in the thought, "Why does everyone always say that to me...?" "I'm just speculating-" Viv put up his hands, laughing guiltily, "I've never heard anyone say that before..." "I suppose that is one way to put it... those guys can be a handful, but sometimes I exaggerate too much about them." "You tend to talk about them a lot too, I've noticed." "Well- then I suppose I am their mum. They're well-behaved compared to some other musicians. But they're still crazy in their own ways, let me tell you," you chuckled and added, "I can only imagine that you'd fit into their mix pretty well." Viv laughed with his arms around his stomach. The sound of him, the look of his handsome and toothy smile, plus the surrounding golden pink glow of the sunset stirred up your emotions in a strange way. Maybe it was happiness, maybe it was appreciation, or maybe it was nostalgia for something you knew you were going to miss. "Are you calling me crazy?" he scoffed at you, his laughter persisting, "I thought tonight was supposed to keep us sane?" "Am I wrong, though?" "No, no, you're not wrong," he straightened up, "Guess I've got more in common with those guys than I know." "You're so different in your own way, but you'd be surprised at how much you remind me of them. Maybe all young rockers are just- alike." He brushed his hair back when you glanced at him, and that's when the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye. You let your eyes focus on it, and before you knew it, you were staring, and your heart was softening even more. Now that you noticed the small detail, you had no idea how you didn't notice it sooner. "What?" Viv asked, oblivious and looking around for what you were fixed on. You blinked as you were broken from the trance, but still continued to stare at him, "I just- I noticed you were wearing the bracelet I made you..." He held up his wrist so you'd have a clear view of it, "Oh yeah, I wear it all the time! Wanted to be sure I was wearing it when I saw you tonight, though." Again, you fought against the rising flush that wanted to be visible on you. "Shit, why is that making me blush? He's just being a good friend." "I'll admit, I'm touched and surprised that you remembered," you looked back out at the sunset over the city. Viv shrugged, turning to look at the sunset respectively, "'Course I did. We're always so far apart, so it's nice to have a little part of you with me sometimes. Can't exactly carry your letters with me onstage if I want to." The flush couldn't be held back now. Viv's flattery was too much for your heart, and too much to not grin at. "But don't people talk?" you purposely teased him the way your crew did to you. "Talk about what?" "Well-" you tried to accurately express the emotions you felt towards the Terror Twins, "For example: the people I work with call you my 'boyfriend' simply because I write to you. Don't people wonder why you suddenly started wearing that bracelet and disappearing to meet with a woman you call your 'pen pal'?" "Now that you mention it," he rubbed his chin, "I'm surprised no one does... guess people don't care enough to tease. Or maybe I got lucky?" You scoffed and shook your head, "Lucky? Absolutely. I had to keep it a secret that I was coming here just to enjoy myself!" "That's awful that they won't leave you alone," he frowned. "Don't worry," you looked over at him and made a swatting motion with your hand, "It's easy enough to get back at them. All you gotta do is eat their lunch and blame it on someone else." "Is that so?" "It's either that, or let a mouse loose in the showers. Works every time." You both cracked up with laughter, each resting back against the bench then hunching over. "This is why I like meeting up with you- you're such great company!" Viv put his hands flat on the bench, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. "You could say that again," you mimicked the posture, keeping a smile on your face, "It's nice to see the face of a rock star that I don't work with, and one that doesn't need me to throw away his dirty tissues." Viv looked up at the clouds and snickered, "I could give you some of mine if that's what you want." "Don't you start, mister," you threatened him, breaking up into soft giggles again. You paused, and let yourself sigh to him, "God, I'm gonna miss you. After tonight, I mean. I know we'll keep writing and all, but it sucks that we can't see each other that often." His hand found yours, casually patting and resting on top of it, "Oh, I know. But tours, right? What can you do about 'em?" You smiled down at your joined hands, slowly moving yours from underneath Viv's, adjusting the position so you were now holding his instead. "You just gotta go with it and hope there's days that they cross paths." From the corner of your eye, you saw him look at you with a gentle grin, then turn away. He gently gave your hand a squeeze, and you hoped to god he couldn't feel your heartbeat through your fingers, as he would've noticed it was speeding up. Silence fell between both of you for a moment. The only things you could hear were the sounds of the street below, and the breeze around you. Your thumb moved back and forth on his skin as you let your sight fall back down to the way you were holding hands. He slowly looked back down, too, not letting his sight trail away to anything else. When the pause was broken, Viv's voice was softer than it'd been. "Y/n, can I..." "Mmhm?" "Can I be honest with you?" Your voice went gentler as you suddenly felt a new sensation in the air, "Of course." His eyes slowly drifted upwards until he was looking at you, "I think I wanna kiss you..." There was no use hiding the coy smile when it took over. You instinctively looked down for a second to break the eye contact. "...can I?" he sweetly asked when you looked back up at him, his eyes looking reminiscent of a polite puppy, "Is that okay...?" You carefully lifted your eyes back up to meet his again. You nodded and whispered, "Okay." When you granted the permission, you swore you noticed redness on Viv's cheeks. It was good to know that you weren't the only one being bashful for once. Still keeping the hold on your hand, Viv slowly began to lean in, briefly glancing at your lips before letting his eyes close. You did the same, welcoming the warm lips onto your own. The initial contact was deeper than you'd anticipated, but he prolonged it into a softer, more tender kiss. Although a kiss is all it was, you felt- almost literally- swept off your feet. You gently put your other hand on the side of his face, wanting to absorb whatever feeling of glory was being created. Some of his soft curls brushed up against your hand as they lightly trembled in the breeze. Viv broke the embrace slowly, still trying to fight a shy smile. "He never gave me any indication of being shy before... wow, what did I do to him?" You went back to facing the urban view, but broke the hold on Viv's hand to rest your head on his shoulder instead. "Yeah..." you sighed dreamily, "Can't do that in a letter." He silently chuckled against you, putting an arm around your shoulders, "I could've just written an 'x' on your lips instead..." *** The sunset was nearly over and done with as you took a cab back to the venue. The crowd for the Leppards' show would be almost completely filled in by the time you got back, meaning you'd have work to do. "Cinderella's gotta get back to unfinished work," you concluded to yourself, smiling as you stared at the remaining orange streaks in the sky. You and Viv wanted nothing more than another date to arrange a meetup, but you both knew it'd be impossible for the time being; tours rarely crossed paths. As the cab drove on, you felt your path get further and further away from his. No bother, though. You'd write each other as soon as you could. The paths would cross again someday. While the imprint of his lips still ghosted over your own, you didn't want to think too much into it. After all, you wouldn't see or speak to each other for a while yet; the kiss would probably mean nothing in the near future, because that's just how life unfolds around things like that. But for that same evening, though, it meant almost everything. You just wanted to remember that. You got back to the venue in time before the show, a gentle, goofy smile stuck on your face. Your eyes didn't dare look at anything but your feet as your legs dreamily floated you back to a break room. In the back of your mind, you couldn't help but worry that someone- somehow- had seen what you were up to. You put down your purse and flopped into a chair with a thick exhale. Upon remembering how the incident with the Twins and Malvin went earlier, you looked around, and confirmed to yourself that you were alone. Calmer now, you closed your eyes. You could still picture the light of the golden-pink sunset gently vignetting Vivian's face. "A conversation that's not on paper," you recalled the toast from earlier in a whisper. "And a kiss that wasn't on paper either..." You would've never guessed when you woke up this morning that you'd end up kissing your pen pal in such a romantic way. It was crazy how events unfolded in this backstage life. When all seemed settled, and your personal chapter for the day had ended, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," your head went upright again. The door creaked open, and Malvin came inside. You greeted him tiredly, "Hey." "Where have you been?" he asked as he went to a vending machine, "Can't just disappear like that and not tell me what you're up to..." A shrug was all you could think to reply with. "It was nothing. I went to get dinner." "Really? And with who?" "How do you know if I went with someone?" "The shade of red on your face tells me otherwise." You scoffed at him, "You're making that up." "Maybe I am," he teased you, "Better get up there in the next ten minutes though, everyone's wondering where you've been." "I'll be up there in six." Malvin took his drink and nodded, heading towards the door. He took a sip, but stopped himself before he could get to the room's exit. There came a playful nag from him, "Oh, and I haven't told the others this yet, but you've got some explaining to do!" "I do?" "Yeah," he affirmed, going on in a lower tone of disbelief, "You've been writing to Viv Campbell?!" Your heart leapt up, then proceeded to drop into the pit of your stomach.

Shit.

The end.

------ “Since You’re Gone” by The Cars

#enjoy my first ever viv fic guys #this is WAY longer than Thru the Window and I was NOT expecting it to be #normally all my fics are inspired by a song- but this one wasn't surprisingly.#i just added since you're gone to give the story a lil more flavor #it's a moderate bop and it sounds cute #def leppard #def leppard fanfic #def leppard x reader #Dio #dio fanfic #dio x reader #vivian campbell #vivian campbell x reader #I know I'm like 2 weeks late with this but I lost motivation for a while #but I think it's good that I waited longer #doesn't feel as rushed #i wrote this as a challenge for myself #1- i've never written a viv x reader fic before #2- i wanted to see if I could finish it within a week #i succeeded in both areas #if you wanna get REALLY technical- i stole the title of this from an REO song just like the last fic #but the song In Your Letter is actually REALLY sad but it's also the peppiest and catchiest song I've ever heard #but this fic is NOT based on that song bc like I said #that song is S A D

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soveryanon · 5 years ago

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Reviewing time for MAG178~!

- Notable thing this episode was the intensity of the sounds (understandable given where they were), almost covering Jon’s words at some point, and the fact that once again… we got statements-specific ones. It used to be a bit unclear whether the sounds we were hearing belonged to the scenery around Jon or if they were emanating from the statement itself: for example, the sounds of the war (MAG163) were surrounding Jon&Martin before the statement while they were immersed in the domain, same with the carousel (MAG165) or the burning building (MAG169); and likewise, the wailing of the worms (MAG166) was audible outside of the statement (surrounding Martin at the end of the episode, when he wasn’t even in earshot of Jon)… but the squelching we could hear during Jon’s statement was a manifestation of what was happening in Jon’s narration. The hooks attacking Francis (MAG172) were a bit more ambiguous: were they audible outside of the statements, and Jon was commenting on them as they were happening? (Jon himself, after all, was described as present in the audience in the statement itself.) In The Extinction domain (MAG175), were the scuttling and hisses of the creature audible anyway around Jon? Or were these sounds created by Jon’s statement?

It’s been a bit clearer with these last three episodes that Jon’s statements seem to be creating/emanating these sounds, or allowing them to be heard: we could hear the sounds of running footsteps and pants while Jon was unmoving (MAG176); we heard the clock of the room, the chair creaking or scraping, the pills getting swallowed, the altercation, the distant wailing, the peeling of Doctor David’s face… and these sounds disappeared (including the clock!) when Jon got out of his statement, while the tinny muzak reappeared (MAG177). This time, Jon was stated to be in a closet: yet, we heard the factory gates opening, the grunts of the “things”, the tools they used, the sizzling of flesh, the cutting… and same thing, they faded once Jon was done with the statement.

(MAG176) ARCHIVIST: “Feet pound, silent whisper, silent blood on lips, blood on teeth, blood-scent of hated prey flows through veins and into feet pound silent in pursuit. [IN THE BACKGROUND, CONSTANT SOUND OF A CHASE IN THE FOREST: FEET RUNNING, PANTING, SHUFFLING OF LEAVES AND BRANCHES] Teeth smile. Ready to kill. [SHUFFLING OF BRANCHES]”

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: [SIGHING] If you say so…! [INHALE] [STATIC RISES] [DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES] [FOOTSTEPS, A TELEPHONE RINGS IN THE BACKGROUND] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [STATIC FADES] ARCHIVIST: “Hi. How are we doing? You can call me Doctor David. […] Like I say: we have all the time in the world! [STATIC RISES] And good old Doctor David isn’t – going – anywhere.” [STATIC FADES] [SOUNDS FROM THE STATEMENT FADES] [THE TINNY MUZAK RESUMES]

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: “The only smell… is the smell of cleaning products. The door finally opens, [RUSTY DOOR OPENS] and another thing stands there. […] Finally, he is led over to a grate on the floor. [SWIFT METALLIC NOISE] He barely even has time to register the red-hot wire cutter [SLASHING SOUND] before it is in and out of his left arm with practiced, professional ease, neatly removing a small wedge of muscle. […] [SHUFFLING, CRACKING AND ELECTRIC SAWING SOUNDS] The last thing he sees before returning to the processing line… is everything going into the garbage. There wasn’t a single, suitable cut. [ANGRY FOOTSTEPS] “Useless,” one of the butchers says. And Tyler is gone.” [STATIC RISES] [SOUNDS FROM THE STATEMENT FADES] [STATIC FADES]

Is Jon “creating” them through dream-logic? Could Martin&Basira hear them, if they stayed around as Jon’s audience, or are these sounds only present on the tape we’re hearing? I’m keeping in mind that the tape recorder is not acting like an out-of-the-box machine: through Jon, it seems to be able to “interact” with the content of the domain/the stories Jon is describing, as affected as the characters…?

- Jon explaining how this domain worked was super interesting (and terrifying):

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Uh… [EXHALE] Technically, a lot of them… actually aren’t people? BASIRA: … Come again? ARCHIVIST: A–a lot of them are created by this place as, uh… “set dressing”, I suppose? Th–this domain, the fear of it requires these… queues, these… this, uh, intricate hateful bureaucracy o–of hundreds of thousands of doomed souls, it needs far more than the number of people who actually ended up here. MARTIN: Wait–wait–wait, so… so it just… makes the rest of them up? ARCHIVIST: Er, maybe one in a hundred or so are actually real? The rest are there to make those people’s fears more acute. MARTIN: … That’s… Ugh, that’s somehow more disturbing.

… because it felt almost like some level of consciousness was at work? Or, well. Once again, a symbiosis between the Fear and its victims, the fact that the domains are literally their fears given enough autonomy to construct that reality and hurt them even more. (I’m thinking back to Jon’s “You want to talk about psychological projection, try viewing the metaphysical world through the lens of a being that is, by its very nature, a reflection of your own obsessions and fears.” from MAG175: he was, in context, talking about his own relationship to The Eye, but that… actually applies to every victim in the domains.)

Things getting me in the statement: the implicit rules/functioning of the domain being so unpredictable and odd that Tyler couldn’t expect them (“He looks around, unable to find a pen, a pencil, anything. The thing sat behind the desk does not respond to his questions. Finally, Tyler takes his fingernail, now long and ragged from his time in the queue, and painstakingly scores the words into the paper.”), the hurt and the pain never being factored by the creatures around him, the fact that his reactions were never timed exactly right (didn’t try to flee when he could have; would like to flee later but knew it was too late in the line), the fact that trying to find a meaning in his own sacrifice was utterly denied (“Is it not better, at least, to be useful? […] The last thing he sees before returning to the processing line… is everything going into the garbage. There wasn’t a single, suitable cut. ‘Useless,’ one of the butchers says.”). There were such a range of different fears in the whole statement: the anguish coming from limited options, the idea of suffering for nothing, of being evaluated and imprisoned into categories outside of one’s control, the crushing feeling of inadequacy, of accepting sacrifices and yet being labelled as a disappointment. Jon described it as an “intricate hateful bureaucracy of hundreds of thousands of doomed souls”, and there was indeed a big aspect of it evoking modern workplace environments (… unfortunately).

Even with the description and the beginning of the statement, I was surprised that this one was a Flesh domain! I do get the “Meat is Me” aspect (the idea of being reduced to meat and value, of being stuck in an abattoir), but I reaaaally felt a Vast vibe in it (being one amongst thousands, of time and space spreading, of being meaningless) with dots of Web (being absolutely dispossessed of agency, having the “choice” to rebel and being conscious enough of the decision not to) and maybe of Lonely (disconnected from the others, lost-in-the-crowd yet unable to reach anyone). One gigantic blob of terror, I know, but it’s a nice feeling when Jon labels a domain and I got a slightly different vibe, while seeing and understanding Jon’s logic!

(- Re: time, it was also very striking in this one that Jon is not exactly describing things as they are happening, but condensing them, since this one would spread through “years”:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: “Time has no meaning in this place – but that does nothing to lessen the certainty that Tyler has been in this line for years.”

Or. Well. That time experienced in the domain is an absolutely subjective experience, to the point that it might be possible that, actually, Jon is still telling the story as it happens although there would be no way for his words to match the rhythm of the events he describes? It’s still dream-logic, so whatever can happen.)

- ;; Once again, domains affecting victims’ abilities to remember or be conscious of anything that happened to them before the Change (or creating memories to hurt them more efficiently):

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: “Next to him, Charlie saw Ryan, who he’d known since childhood – though the other details were hazy. Ryan gave him a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile – before his face exploded inwards to a sniper’s bullet, peppering the boat with shards of bone and gore.”

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: “There was never a time before the disease, no matter what the old bastards tell you. It has always been in the village, always festered in the dark corners where nobody could stomach to check, where good neighbours wouldn’t dream to speculate.”

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: “Its pace remaining as it ever was, it does not care for coming pains as you are torn. Doesn’t it know who you are? No… And soon… neither will you. […] You will be someone again, someday. […] “I’m still Hannah!” you try to scream, but are you? No. Perhaps there’s some Veronica as fragments there, or Julian, or Anya, but… no. You feel the last of names and “who” you might have been be torn away and borne towards new bodies. New pages, blank; determined to be people.”

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: “When had the crushing pressure in his chest become literal? When had the empty promise of the horizon finally vanished completely, replaced by the pitch darkness of this “forever wall of earth”? Sam did not know. Time had no meaning here. […] His existence was static, and eternal. Immutable. “Sleep” was only a memory, because even the prospect of unconsciousness might have made his present state slightly more bearable. Food as well, he knew, must be a thing, for he could feel the hunger, but his imagination failed to picture it. The only smell he knew was the damp, and the dirt.”

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “How long as she lived here? How long have these cramped, dingy rooms in the back of this sprawling rundown tenement been the place her heart calls home? She cannot recall, but long enough for her to grow into love for it, to cherish every rusted appliance, every crumbling piece of plasterboard, every – flickering – lightbulb. […] Sabina cannot… picture their faces, but knows that should they wake to see the state of the place… their anger would be blistering. […] What floor was her flat on again? Surely, it can’t be this high. […] Limping and desperate, she turns to see her furniture in flames, the bookshelves full of memories, that she can’t quite place [STATIC RISES] but knows are precious to her, curl and float away as ash. The photos on the wall of her family whose faces seem indistinct but she knows that she loves, begin to blacken, as the glass pops out of the frame.”

(MAG170) MARTIN: … It’s sort of weird, isn’t it? [CREAKING] A smell can trigger memory so… powerfully. Like this one; it, it–it makes me think of… [INHALE] Hm. [INHALE] Hm. I, I don’t know. Is it a person? A place? No, no; people, people don’t smell like that. Besides, I’m all alone. … I’m, I’m all alone. [CREAKING] Why, why am I alone? I, I shouldn’t be alone! There should be people! It’s such a, such a big house, my house, there mu–, there must be other people! People who care. Unless…

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: “When it had first covered her home, bathing the street beyond her window in unexpected shade, she had thought it an eclipse. There wasn’t supposed to be one then, she is… sure of that – although if pressed, she could not have told you what day it is today. Before the shadow fell, she is sure that the sun was shining brightly – although, if pressed, she could not have pictured it. And the humid heat of a lingering summer had left the world sleepy, and unprepared – although, if pressed, she remembers the heat, but not the season. […] Mehreen cannot quite make out their faces as she bundles them into the car, old and shuddering as it coughs into life. Does she remember having a child? A spouse? Does she remember her mother having such a cruel sneer? It doesn’t matter. They are here now, and she has to save them.”

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: “It’s faded now. He remembers aches and worries and, sometimes, something that might have been joy…! But it’s far away now, like something seen projected on a distant wall.

I still wonder if that situation will evolve, by MAG200… Jon said that the Fears would stay as long as there are people to fear them, and the current status quo is that victims are imprisoned in a loop – their fears made manifest, torturing them in turn, leading to more fear, their perceptions and memories biased to prevent them from feeling something else. We’ve seen how anchors could work as a point of focus to get out of their grasp; it’s not possible with how the world is shaped now, but if the victims could remember something else than their fears, maybe…?

- Oh! I hadn’t noticed/wondered if there was an echo of Beholding in the domain itself in a while, but:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: “Even if he had the will to, Tyler could not have struggled: the movements of the things scrutinising him are as gently unstoppable as a piston.”

… that’s a big Eye mood.

- Same as in the Slaughter domain, it seems to be a loop of fear:

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: “There is a rumbling in the earth around him, as a tank speeds along its unstoppable path, and Charlie is immediately pulled under its tread. He has a moment of shocked horror, before being reduced to a smear in the mud. […] Next to his bleeding corpse, Charlie wakes from what passes for sleep in this place. A sergeant is yelling at him, screaming for him to take his gun and get into the waiting transport.”

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: “The tragedy of Francis. A comic puppet show, in all acts. Act 48067”. […] And so it will be until the curtain descends at last, and THE SPIDER resets the scene, its belly already beginning to swell once again with replacements for the creatures it so gorily birthed. AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [LAUGHS] Pause, for laughter. AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [LOUD CLAPS] And so the curtains descends.” AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [LOUD CLAPS AND CHEERING] [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: “The tragedy of Francis. A comic puppet show in all acts. Act 48068.”

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: “The last thing he sees before returning to the processing line… is everything going into the garbage. There wasn’t a single, suitable cut.”

(And I’m still dubious of Oliver’s claim that The End’s domain was better than the others and would deliver it for real! Though Jon mentioned dream-logic as the rule at work, to explain why Daisy wouldn’t be coming back if killed… so maybe enough belief in The End as an absolute ending makes it real in that world. Mm…)

- Back to Martin worrying over victims’ feelings, and being vocal about it!

(MAG163) MARTIN: … They’re not… real? [VOICES SHOUTING IN THE DISTANCE] ARCHIVIST: [MIRTHLESS CHUCKLING] No…! They’re real; they were… normal people before the– … Before me. But now they’re here, meat for the grinder. I just mean there’s no point… talking to them. MARTIN: Don’t be a prick, Jon. Hey! I’m, I’m sorry about him. He’s–he’s going through a lot – well… we all are, I suppose, but well… “Hi”, I guess. [SILENCE] Hello? ARCHIVIST: They won’t hear you, Martin, they’re all… too busy waiting to die. MARTIN: Jon…

(MAG178) MARTIN: [HUSHED] Oh, would you both just keep it down, please? ARCHIVIST: They’re not aware of us, Martin, I keep telling you. MARTIN: Yeah, I know, but it’s not okay to talk as though they’re not there. They’re still people. […] [MARTIN JOSTLES A BODY] MARTIN: Excuse me. ARCHIVIST: [EXASPERATED] Martin, they can’t hear you. MARTIN: [SHARP] I know, Jon, that’s not the point. ARCHIVIST: … All right…!

He hadn’t been vocal about it in a long time! (And he had felt a bit disconnected about it, to me, with the worms and the carousels.)

In comparison, I do understand Jon’s pragmatism in the uselessness of trying to Know who is real and not:

(MAG178) MARTIN: Wait–wait–wait, so… so it just… makes the rest of them up? ARCHIVIST: Er, maybe one in a hundred or so are actually real? The rest are there to make those people’s fears more acute. MARTIN: … That’s… Ugh, that’s somehow more disturbing. BASIRA: … How do you tell which is which? ARCHIVIST: I mean, you could ask me, I suppose. B–but I don’t… really see the point. Would it help you to know whose suffering is real and… whose is just a… grim reflection? [SILENCE] BASIRA: No. ARCHIVIST: Well, there you go then.

… but still, a bit aouch about that logic – it’s true that people in the domains are not aware of them, so taking them into account doesn’t change anything, but it still means ignoring real people. (I wonder if they will end up in a domain where victims are aware and conscious and a potential threat to them, if it’s the point of the domain?)

- I’m glad, however, that Jon was trying to make them avoid the avatar of the place, because it was contrasting a lot with Jude:

(MAG169) MARTIN: That turn…! You, you took a hard turn after the roots back there. I knew that was a thing! Why are we here? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] It’s just… [INHALE] When you said… [SIGH] MARTIN: Jon, why have you taken us here? ARCHIVIST: Jude Perry. … This is where Jude Perry rules.

(MAG178) BASIRA: So who’s in charge, here? ARCHIVIST: Not anyone you’re familiar with. We won’t be meeting them. MARTIN: You’re not going to… y’know? [MARTIN VOCALISES AN EXPLOSION] ARCHIVIST: No. Even if I wanted to, he’s in the, uh… Main Processing Room, and believe me when I say that’s… not somewhere you want to be. MARTIN: … Yeah. I guess.

(And even with Oliver: Jon had made the decision that he wouldn’t pursue Oliver, but it had been shown as a rare act of mercy in the face of Oliver’s actions. Here, it really sounded like he wanted to spare Martin and Basira more suffering, didn’t want to put them in an upsetting situation.)

… a bit worried that Martin still hasn’t let it sink in that Jon didn’t want to go Kill Bill anymore because he felt that it was detrimental to himself, but to be fair, Martin sounded like he had asked just to clear it up and wasn’t pressuring, just checking.

- OHOHOHOH about Martin’s frustration feeling extremely… meta (it’s something an audience would say):

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

Both the thread imagery and the storytelling aspect are screaming a bit “Web?” (THIS IS HOW WEB!MARTIN CAN STILL W–)

- I’m still a puddle on the floor about the fact that:

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

MartinElias. The MartinElias in season 5 is so delightful *snif*. Strangulation? That’s such an intimate way of killing… It’s what Will described as what his preferred method for killing Hannibal would be… My MartinElias rights…

I love how. Martin. Just brings up Elias so much this season.

(MAG161) MARTIN: Elias won, and there were some tapes he’d kept for himself, and he wanted to gloat. So, he sent them! ARCHIVIST: He’s not… MARTIN: I–I don’t see– ARCHIVIST: … “Elias”. MARTIN: Jonah, then. I don’t know, I find it hard to think of him as… I don’t really like to think of him!

(MAG162) MARTIN: Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias?

(MAG164) MARTIN: What about Elias?

(MAG170) MARTIN: I mean, the interview was weird, I… I don’t really remember the man who talked to me. Just his eyes. They stared at me; th–through me, and… and, I–I knew that he knew what I’d done. God, I…! I was so scared, but… but then he smiled and shook my hand…! What was his name? [CREAKING] He said I “had the job”…! [CHUCKLE] That he “looked forward to working with me”! … I was still so scared I could barely move my arm…! I was so terrified I’d let him down…!

(MAG174) MARTIN: … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever.

(MAG177) BASIRA: … So what’s your plan? MARTIN: Long-term? Elias. He’s up in that that… “Panopticon” tower thing.

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

* “I don’t really like to think of him!” said Martin Blackwood, before proceeding to mention Elias at every turn. (And still “Elias”! Jon and Martin seem to have completely given up on calling him “Jonah”. He’s still “Elias” for them, even though they know who he truly is.)

* Oh, Martin… He really seems to have decided that “killing Elias/getting revenge on Elias” was their goal, and that it would do anything good. Jon has already proven that killing avatars in domains didn’t free victims, didn’t improve their situations; that the domains just… kept going, even “unsupervised”. Even if Jonah is still around in some shape or form (in his old decaying body, in “Elias Bouchard”’s body, merged with the Panopticon, anything), and even if he is the ruler of the Panopticon (not a given, since Jon said that they were heading towards his own domain: unclear if it was the Archives, the Institute, the Panopticon, or all of them)… killing him would not fix the world. Is Martin absolutely in denial about this? Or does he need a small goal to keep going and process his feelings?

(;; And there is just a huge chance that… Martin is mostly feeling guilty about what happened, about the fact that he had the chance and opportunity to kill Elias but refused to do so, and that it led to Jon getting his last mark with The Lonely (with potential additions of not having checked the package they had received, and having chosen to leave Jon unsupervised while he would read a statement). The episode was about Basira knowing all along what was happening but trying to pretend she didn’t, and how this prevented her from reaching her goal (Daisy); I wonder if Martin will soon have to undergo the same process, to allow him and Jon to reach the Panopticon…)

- About Jon’s need for a stop:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Left. [INHALE] Just up ahead. [STATIC FADES] Although, uh… Hum… Actually, you might want to head through that door and… wait. BASIRA: Again? Already? ARCHIVIST: There’s a lot of fear in this place. […] MARTIN: New plan. We wait in the corridor; you go in the spike cupboard and tell your story to all the… hooks and stuff.

Once again, it’s definitely presented as Jon having to unload an excess, and I’m really interested in Martin’s lexicon. In MAG177, he called it a “statement”, and this time, presented it as “tell[ing] [his] story to all the hooks and stuff”: “story” had been how Fanshawe had described Albrecht von Closen pouring out his horrors, and Martin’s formulation took into consideration the need for an audience. Jon did introduce the tape recorder as a necessary audience in MAG163 while he was giving the domain’s statement (and he had mentioned how “pouring out” into them had helped him to understand what the cabin was doing, in MAG162), but really, I’m struck with how similar Jon sounds to how Fanshawe had described Albrecht?

(And what is happening with the tape recorder, what is Jon creating through them…)

- Uh! So it seems like Basira got Enough already, by listening to Jon last time. Not keen to reiterate the experience, uh. (Well: it’s mostly Jon who, first and foremost, took it as a given that Basira wouldn’t be listening either.)

- I’m fond of the fact that:

(MAG178) [DOOR OPENS AND METALLIC JANGLING IS HEARD] MARTIN: [EMPHATICALLY] Nope! BASIRA: … What the hell sort of tools are those? ARCHIVIST: “Flesh” factory, remember?

The tools weren’t described. Some things better left to imagination, nondescript but evoked through characters’ reactions, uh?

- ;w; Is Jon still worried about Martin potentially losing himself in a domain? He really almost lost Martin in the Lonely house, and Martin had wandered away too deep in the Web one:

(MAG170) ARCHIVIST: Oh, Martin! Thank god, I, I was… I–I thought you were behind me. [FABRIC RUSTLES] MARTIN: I thought you’d left me behind…! Gone on without me.

(MAG172) MARTIN: No, I… Not for most of it. I just thought I heard… something. Whatever. I went exploring, all right? I don’t know why; I shouldn’t have. ARCHIVIST: No, you–you shouldn’t have!

(MAG178) MARTIN: New plan. We wait in the corridor; you go in the spike cupboard and tell your story to all the… hooks and stuff. ARCHIVIST: … Fine. Just don’t wander off.

… I really wonder if, at some point, Jon will try to come back to Martin&Basira, and they’ll be just… gone, because of Helen, Annabelle, or the domain’s work. (… It might be how Daisy could appear? While Jon is focusing on a statement and unaware that she reached them first?)

- Martin has his Limits and will be vocal about it:

(MAG178) MARTIN: [EMPHATICALLY] Nope! […] New plan. We wait in the corridor; you go in the spike cupboard and tell your story to all the… hooks and stuff.

… but mostly, I’m snickering so hard, because. It was.

It was.

It was Martin refusing to go into the closet. I’ve been snickering about it for a week, alright.

- … I really wonder what Martin was talking about with Basira:

(MAG178) MARTIN: –I know, I know you find it hard whe– … Done already? ARCHIVIST: Yes. [INHALE] Talking about me? BASIRA: … I assume that’s a rhetorical question. ARCHIVIST: I am trying to keep my powers to myself. BASIRA: Sure! MARTIN: I was just… giving Basira some advice. ARCHIVIST: [GOOD-NATURED] Avatars are from Mars and humans are from Venus, that sort of thing? MARTIN: [TINY CHUCKLE] I mean… yeah? Sort of? ARCHIVIST: [BRIEF CHUCKLE] MARTIN: Well, w–we were pretty much done anyway.

… Jon’s shitty sense of humour… (Was that an allusion to the feared vs. the fearful, as Helen made the distinction? To the Jon/Martin relationship as avatar/human? x’))

Was Martin’s “advice” about how to not take what Jon was saying too badly, how to try to talk with him constructively since she and Jon had grown sour towards each other in season 4? … Or does Martin have a plan in the making, that requires Jon to not know about it? Because this episode and the previous one made a point to remind us…

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

… that Jon doesn’t know what is happening in Martin’s head since Martin asked him not to “know” about him…

(I’m glaaad that Martin and Basira are talking outside of Jon!!)

- I like the contrast between Jon absolutely knowing what he was doing, where he was leading Basira and Martin… and the fact that Basira didn’t know about it.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Next one’s through here. BASIRA: Next one? ARCHIVIST: Her latest victim. [DOOR IS WRENCHED OPEN WITH A METALLIC CREAK] MARTIN: [REELS] Oh… [SOUNDS OF FLIES BUZZING]

Not exceptionally great from Jon, but typical from season 5 – it just highlights how much Jon knows how the world operate, what is around them, is indeed almost completely omniscient… and forgets how others aren’t.

- I really, really love how Daisy’s victims have been introduced for these past two episodes:

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: We’re here. [DOOR CREAKS] MARTIN: … Oh! Jesus… [BAG JOSTLING] ARCHIVIST: Yes. Horrible way to go…! BASIRA: You’re sure this is Daisy’s handiwork? ARCHIVIST: Positive. […] I could tell you. BASIRA: [EXHALE] Don’t bother. I know who he is. MARTIN: What? BASIRA: [SIGH] Noah Thomson. That… nasty piece of work. Crossed him a few times when we weren’t doing sectioned work. Last I heard, he’d dodged a GBH charge Daisy brought him in on. Blinded a guy during a robbery. I guess she didn’t forget. MARTIN: Wait. Wait, so… so, she’s hunting down criminals? People who she… thinks got away with stuff? BASIRA: … Sure. ARCHIVIST: Really? As simple as that? BASIRA: What’s your point? ARCHIVIST: What, you think he ended up in Wonderland House at random? We’re just going to ignore it, and write him off as a “nasty piece of work”? BASIRA: We don’t have time for this. ARCHIVIST: Then we should make time. You want to hear how he ended up blinding that man? Because it wasn’t a robbery. He was running away from Daisy, lashing out in a panic. The court believed it. But you believed her…

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Recognise her… BASIRA: … No… I don’t think I do. ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t a question. It was an instruction, we can’t… move on until you do. MARTIN: Jon, what are you getting at? ARCHIVIST: This isn’t just a journey through spaces. BASIRA: … Fine, I recognise her. I don’t know her name, though. [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Isabelle Moran. Shoplifter, drug addict. [STATIC FADES] Daisy was certain she was dealing as well, derailed her recovery twice.

Jon asking Basira to “recognise” the victims is such a significant move? It’s about giving them some dignity back: we’re given their names and last names (which… is more than what we’re getting in the domains’ statements; it feels more real); we’re being introduced to who they were through their identity, their history, what was done to them, the wrongs done to them… both as humans actions (the hurt Daisy caused as a police officer, although influenced by The Hunt) and as monstrous actions (Daisy butchered them as a beast). It feels very striking that most of the violence inflicted upon them is… not especially the fact that they’ve been murdered in these domains (Jon implied they should respawn?), but really, about what was done to them before, and how fundamentally Daisy’s behaviour had hurt them.

I really like how Jon is pushing Basira to acknowledge all of this, to process Daisy’s responsibility (and indirectly, hers, as someone who let it happen)? There is something very empathetic, very powerful in the fact that what needs to be done is about seeing the harm, understanding how it happened, before being able to proceed to the next step and take actions?

(- Basira, serial Sayer Of Fuck And Swears:

(MAG143) BASIRA: [SIGH] So, what, this was another waste of time? What, no Church, no Dark Sun? … I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch…!

(MAG148) BASIRA: You sent us to the North fucking Pole for no goddamn reason. ELIAS: A, a–hem… miscalculation.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: [DEEP EXHALATION] … Satisfied? BASIRA: Ff… Fuck.

(MAG178) BASIRA: Don’t give me that patronising, ominous-oracle bullshit, Jon. I’m not an idiot…! […] Of course I fucking care!

Now she’s on equal ground with Jon!)

- Basira broke my heart into tiny pieces this episode, because all her prickly behaviours were bad, as she was put in that uncomfortable situation and trying to flee (while Jon relentlessly pushed her to see)… and it felt so human in its own way?

(MAG155) BASIRA: I’m trying to convince her to go after them. To, er… “Hunt” them. ARCHIVIST: Why? BASIRA: Because I’m not going to lose her. ARCHIVIST: She goes Hunting again, you might anyway. BASIRA: And if she doesn’t, she might die. ARCHIVIST: Something you’re fine with in certain other cases. And something she’s made peace with. BASIRA: Because of the guilt she feels over the stuff The Hunt made her do…! It’s not her fault. ARCHIVIST: Earlier, when she was still out of it, I, uh… I “saw” some of the things she was talking about, some of the things she did, while she was police. I’m not convinced I disagree with her assessment. [PAUSE] Do you want me to tell you? BASIRA: No. No, I don’t. ARCHIVIST: … You knew, didn’t you? You knew the sort of things she did, and you let her. BASIRA: No, not exactly. I thought… [PAUSE] It’s not that simple. ARCHIVIST: It never is. But that doesn’t make it okay.[SILENCE] BASIRA: None of us are who we were, Jon.[SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: No. I suppose not. In many ways, it’s simpler now, isn’t it? At least now, our demons have names. BASIRA: Mm.

(MAG178) BASIRA: Fine. Noted. Can we just move on please? ARCHIVIST: I’m afraid not. BASIRA: Why not? ARCHIVIST: We aren’t finished here. BASIRA: Is that a threat? MARTIN: Guys, come on, don’t do this, not here. ARCHIVIST: I told you before, we can’t hunt a monster you refuse to see. BASIRA: Don’t give me that patronising, ominous-oracle bullshit, Jon. I’m not an idiot…! ARCHIVIST: I never said you were. MARTIN: Guys… BASIRA: [ANGRY] Look, I need you to lead the way. I don’t need your advice, and certainly don’t need you stood there judging me! MARTIN: [LOUDLY] Enough, enough! Someone has died! Show some respect. Or don’t you care? BASIRA: [INCENSED] Of course I fucking care! … [QUIETER] That’s the problem. MARTIN: I… I don’t understand. BASIRA: … I just… I don’t need him laying everything out for me like I’m some kind of idiot. I know, all right? Daisy is the only person I could ever rely on and… [GETTING QUIET AND SHAKY] And she… she did things, terrible things, and I… [SIGH] I refused to see it or… said it was my duty, or whatever. I don’t know. MARTIN: Basira…

Basira’s discomfort had to do with her feeling judged, criticised, leading her to get so defensive, all of which we’d already seen a lot in season 4! It’s a defence mechanism! And we finally could see what she was hiding, the feelings she didn’t want others to see! It was long due, and it was such an amazing pay-off!!!

I feel like it’s the equivalent of Melanie in MAG131, and Daisy in MAG132, when they explained themselves to Jon, gave him the keys to understand what was happening in their heads and why they behaved like they did, and, once again, it was such a precious, sensitive moment?

(MAG178) BASIRA: I care, I just… I don’t need to wallow in it. I need to end it. All of it. MARTIN: … We’re here for you. BASIRA: No. She was there for me. ARCHIVIST: … “Cops versus robbers and monsters”… BASIRA: I thought we were doing good. I really did…! I knew there was some bad shit, I knew Daisy was into a lot of it, but… I thought it balanced out. [WEAKLY] … I thought we were good. ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] I know how that feels. BASIRA: … I wanted to help people, you know? When I first joined. Protect people. But then I saw what some of those same people were capable of, and… something changed. I wanted to hurt them, the ones that deserved it, and it… it felt good, it felt… righteous. I thought I could feel the line, though, I really did. Eventually, though, it was… too much. [PAUSE] I was going to quit. I couldn’t… take what I saw myself becoming, but… then I got sectioned, and suddenly… suddenly it turned out there were real monsters out there, and… Well, that just made the power feel better. So things kept slipping. But… Daisy was always there for me. MARTIN: All those innocent people… BASIRA: Were they? Innocent? ARCHIVIST: Some. And if not? [INHALE] What crime warrants what was done to them? Theft? Violence? Disrespect?

* Honestly, the raw vulnerability, melancholia and sadness? It was my favourite performance from Frank ever.

* I really love how it tied in with what Basira had already said about her relationship to police, that she had never really felt extremely attached to the profession (MAG117: “I don’t want to be here. But by the end, I didn’t want to be police either, so… guess I don’t really know what I do want, which… maybe that’s just as well. My options… they’ve gotten a lot narrower over the last year.”). It’s just such a sad story because, in her case, she hadn’t gone there for the power (unlike Daisy); as she explained, she had good intentions… and the structure in place tends to sour and corrupt, encourages its agents to abuse their power, won’t make them become better persons (will only make them worse), and turns out to be a threat for the vulnerable instead of protecting them. It’s even sadder that Basira thought about quitting shortly before she got sectioned because, with the timeline in mind:

(MAG043) BASIRA: Okay, well, the first time I got hit with a Section 31 was five years ago, August 2011. I’d got my badge the year before that, and was still getting used to some of the more stressful bits of the job.

It happened barely a year after she joined the police. And she was already aware that she was becoming someone she didn’t like, that she was doing terrible things, and was considering quitting because of it…

* The “I wanted to hurt them, the ones that deserved it” reminded me a bit of Melanie explaining her anger in MAG131, and I’m sad in retrospect about how… Basira and Melanie could have understood each other much better in season 4 if the circumstances had been different…

* I also like how the existence of the supernatural goes hand in hand with Daisy’s side of things: the monsters and the avatars were a pretext for Hunters to unleash their violence. It was never about protecting the population from dangerous people; it was about having easily digestible targets, which allowed them to feel good about being violent (since, after all, they were only eradicating threats, right?). As both Basira and Jon pointed out:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: … “Cops versus robbers and monsters”… BASIRA: I thought we were doing good. I really did…! I knew there was some bad shit, I knew Daisy was into a lot of it, but… I thought it balanced out. [WEAKLY] … I thought we were good.

It wasn’t a clear-cut situation – there were monsters out there. But we’ve also seen how so many of these monsters had initially been preyed upon by the entities, had initially been trying to survive, and how the line about their “badness”… wasn’t as easy to establish as characters would have liked. (And, in Daisy’s case: indeed, it wasn’t worth it anyway to… push struggling people deeper into misery, just because she had power over them, and Daisy, in season 4, was the first to remind people of it.)

* T__T I really love the… complexity of Basira’s situation? How would you react if the person there for you, representing a fixed point (your anchor?), turned out to be doing wrong things? In theory, it feels easy to answer that the good behaviour would be to turn your back on them, or to try to make them improve; and in practice, in Basira’s case, it meant allowing her whole system to collapse, and having to rebuild from there. I’m really fond of how she explained that she wasn’t stupid, that she was still aware of what was happening: that she still chose the pack mentality over a rejection of that system, but that she was already disillusioned with it. Basira had often felt a bit… emptier than the other characters; we only knew of a life-lesson given by her father, and the rest of her life seems to have been tied to the police force for the past few years, before she joined the Institute. It has really felt like Daisy was what brought her stability and peace. And yet: Daisy did awful things, Basira enabled her by trying to think it was for the greater good (MAG091: “But I… I always thought you just killed monsters.”), and Basira wasn’t even able to make the most of her return in season 4, when Daisy wanted to improve, since Basira was stuck on the idea that they needed a strong defence against threats… (And I wonder how much of Basira’s initial rejection of Daisy in season 4 had to do with the fact that… allowing herself to understand and hear the “new Daisy” would mean having to acknowledge that the old one had been bad and wrong; that Basira had allowed her to be monstrous, and that they both shared responsibility in those crimes.)

- Really loved Martin’s attempt, too:

(MAG178) MARTIN: … We’re here for you. BASIRA: No. She was there for me.

Because it said so much, that Martin used a present tense while Basira answered in the past (as if, after Daisy, there couldn’t be anyone else). It also put back in my mind how Basira had tried to be a bit softer on Martin at first, after his mother died (MAG127: “But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mum and everything, so I didn’t press it.”) but didn’t provide comfort either; and how, even earlier, Basira and Martin had tried to be there for Melanie when they learned what Elias had done to her (MAG110). There’s still a lot of ice, but I’m glad that Martin offered, and that Basira didn’t attack him on it either – she’s mourning (that past tense in “she WAS there for me”…), but not… absolutely rejecting him either.

- In the moments of small understandings, Jon’s was also noteworthy:

(MAG178) BASIRA: I thought we were doing good. I really did…! I knew there was some bad shit, I knew Daisy was into a lot of it, but… I thought it balanced out. [WEAKLY] … I thought we were good. ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] I know how that feels.

Since he also had to face the reality that the Archives team hadn’t really been doing “good” either, although he had tried to cling to the idea:

(MAG150) MELANIE: Because this place is evil, Jon! And so… doing this job… ARCHIVE: [LOUD EXHALE] MELANIE: Helping it out… even in small ways, i–is in some way… evil too! Every time we try to use it to do good, it just seems to make everything worse, and… and I will not be a part of that anymore. ARCHIVIST: What about The Unknowing? We, we saved the world! MELANIE: Did we? I… I mean, I–I think it was the right thing to do, but how many people were killed to do it? We, we weren’t even a neutral party; we did it as agents of The Eye, because Elias told us to. ARCHIVIST: An–and then you put him in jail! MELANIE: Martin put him there. And, and–and he’s still doing harm.

(With the additional fact that Jon had indeed saved Melanie and Daisy, but had attacked five people during the season; that The Unknowing would have failed anyway; and that ultimately, a lot of Jon’s “good” actions had also marked him as a preparation to Jonah’s ritual.)

Re: Jon’s situation, it’s the same thing with Basira’s declaration about caring:

(MAG178) MARTIN: [LOUDLY] Enough, enough! Someone has died! Show some respect. Or don’t you care? BASIRA: [INCENSED] Of course I fucking care! … [QUIETER] That’s the problem. MARTIN: I… I don’t understand.

(MAG152) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … When does it stop? HELEN: What? ARCHIVIST: The guilt… The misery… All the others I’ve met, they’ve been… cold. Cruel. They’ve enjoyed what they do. When does The Eye… make me monstrous?

It had been Jon’s “problem”, too: how he was conscious and aware of the suffering he caused, and how he had to live with it, wasn’t okay with it. I really like how it feels like, finally, after season 4, Basira is able to participate in a conversation where they’re opening up, talking in good faith, trying to understand each other and… not hurt each other anymore? How they can relate, or just listen?

- I’m back to sobbing about Jon and Daisy’s relationship in season 4 because:

(MAG178) BASIRA: [SHAKY] … You knew her. She was trying to be better…! ARCHIVIST: She was. But she never asked me to forgive her. BASIRA: Forgive her? ARCHIVIST: … I’ve been scared, terrified for my life so many times these last few years, but I’ve never, not once, felt so horribly, abjectly powerless as when she… took me into that forest to kill me. I’ll never forget it. MARTIN: … You never said. ARCHIVIST: It’s not easy to talk about. MARTIN: Oh, Jon… BASIRA: … And would you have? Forgiven her? ARCHIVIST: No… But she never asked me. She knew she had no right. [SILENCE]

… It’s still “aouch”, but not surprising: Daisy had been terrifying in MAG091, absolutely hammering in that Jon’s life was in her hands, that she had decided who and what he was and what he deserved. It had been a very hard scene, cruel and violent, a demonstration of what Daisy could do (and had done)… and I really don’t feel like it negates the moments she and Jon shared in season 4, it mostly just casts another dimension on it? How Jon was a bit tense and awkward around her, and slowly mellowed down:

(MAG133) DAISY: You sure? ARCHIVIST: No, uh, it’s, hum. It’s fine. DAISY: It’s just… Basira’s busy. ARCHIVIST: I–I understand. Ho–honestly, er, I’d actually appreciate your insights, er, for this one, just… You know, keep quiet during the statement and that. DAISY: Sure. I, I can do quiet. ARCHIVIST: Right. Er, oh, do you want a chair? DAISY: No. ARCHIVIST: Oh. Okay.

(MAG136) MELANIE: W–well, I’ve kind of got to… uhm. I’ve got somewhere to be. Do you mind if, if… she hangs around, with… ARCHIVIST: Er… I suppose… Not at all. She’s very welcome. […] Are you alright? DAISY: Asked me that already. ARCHIVIST: Right. Sorry. DAISY: I didn’t ask her. To do that. ARCHIVIST: I–it–it’s fine. […] DAISY: Get over yourself! You’re always talking about choices – we all made ours. Now I’m making the choice… to get some drinks in. Coming? ARCHIVIST: I d–… I… [SIGH] … yeah? Okay. DAISY: Melanie’s out, but I’ll go get Basira. ARCHIVIST: Is she… W–will she want to join us? DAISY: If she doesn’t, I’ll rip her throat out. ARCHIVIST: Uh… DAISY: It’s a joke, Jon. ARCHIVIST: … oh. Hahah…! Yes… Uh, I–I’ll get my coat.

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: The others are doing… better, I think. Basira’s busy doing research for something secretive, unsurprisingly. But she seems to be adjusting to, uh… the new Daisy. I actually like Daisy now, which is a… really weird feeling.

(MAG153) ARCHIVIST: Are you alright? DAISY: [BREATHLESS] Don’t touch me. ARCHIVIST: Christ, he was right, I, I didn’t… When did you get so thin? DAISY: I’m not, it’s fine. ARCHIVIST: … It’s The Hunt, isn’t it? Without it– DAISY: I’m fine. Just haven’t been hungry. I’m strong enough. ARCHIVIST: Clearly. […] Even so, if it’s having this much of an effect on you– DAISY: I’m not going back. I can’t let it in again. ARCHIVIST: But it– … What if it kills you? DAISY: [CHORTLE] Always said I was dedicated to justice…! ARCHIVIST: Daisy! It’s not… You can’t think like that. DAISY: Jon. Do you have any idea how much damage you can do if you’re a police officer who wants to hurt people? How much the system will protect you? ARCHIVIST: [SHARP INHALE] DAISY: I managed to keep most of it from Basira, but… ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t you, that was The Hunt! DAISY: … [SIGH] We were the same. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … You’d never known anything different. [SILENCE] DAISY: Because I never wanted to. All that time trapped was good for one thing: thinking. And I did a lot of it. I’ve made my choice.

I feel like… there is a form of deep respect from Jon, when he explained how Daisy didn’t ask for forgiveness – because it proved, in a way, that Daisy was very aware that the harm she had done was too huge to be forgiven, and that she couldn’t ask that from him (and that it might be a reason why Jon accepted to get closer with her in the first place: because she wasn’t lying when she said that she now understood how terrible she had been). We’ve seen, however, how Daisy was quick to apologise:

(MAG132) DAISY: [CRIES OF PAIN] I’m, I’m sorry… I’m sorry Jon… I’m sorry…

(MAG142) MARTIN: I know. [PAUSE] Not nice being interrogated, is it? DAISY: I… [EXHALE] Oh. MARTIN: Yeah. [SILENCE] DAISY: [INHALE] I’m sorry, Martin. MARTIN: It’s alright. Wasn’t you. [INHALE] Not really. DAISY: No, it was. I hate… a lot of what I did back then; doesn’t mean I’m not… responsible for it, doesn’t mean it… wasn’t me.

But indeed: never asked to be forgiven. And it might strike a very personal chord for Jon, since… he knows, first-hand, how it is to not be forgiven:

(MAG119) TIM: Jon, I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can… ARCHIVIST: [FAINTLY AND FAR] Tim…? TIM: I don’t forgive you. But thank you for this.

(If I remember correctly, the only time Jon had asked to be forgiven had been to the assistants through the tape recorder, when threatened by the Not!Them and panicking. But, same as Daisy: afterwards, he said “sorry”, and didn’t ask for it.)

- There is another thing, not mentioned but hard to forget if we’re talking about Daisy’s victims, including Jon: what about Jon’s? What about the statement-givers who were plagued by the nightmares, and specifically the ones he attacked knowing the harm that he would do to them? We’re exploring the harm Daisy caused to her victims, I wonder if we’re heading towards what Jon did to these people, too… (Are they waiting at the Panopstitute or the Archives, since it’s “Jon’s domain”? He used to terrorise them through the nightmare zoo, and had claimed them for Beholding: but in this new world, he doesn’t sleep anymore. It would feel logical that… they’re still trapped and victimised by The Eye as of now.)

- Early season, Jon had really felt like Virgil leading Dante (Martin) through the circles of Hell, and there is a bit of that with Basira too! Except that it’s not a didactic exploration of divine retribution/punishment, but… precisely, it is about how the “punishments” were the problems, how nobody was inherently unsalvable (or even, how everyone was plain pushed towards misery because of a biased repressive system)? There is still that idea of guiding Basira, both physically and mentally, through a terrible and hard journey, to make her able to see the reality of the world and reach her goal… (and that makes Daisy “Beatrice”. Who is… already dead TT__TT)

- From MAG163 to MAG177 (excluding MAG167, which was Jon&Martin taking a break and Jon giving the statements about the Archives during Gertrude’s tenure), we crossed through all the Fears present in Jonah’s invocation, minus Beholding itself and plus Extinction. MAG178’s was explicitly labelled as The Flesh; although it was another aspect from Jared’s garden, it’s still a “repeat”. I would infer that, either Jon&Martin’s journey has been set aside and put on hold right now (since they’re focusing on finding Daisy), and they now will be able to reach the Panopticon as soon as they’re done with this current quest… either no, going through one domain of each Fear wasn’t the point of Jon&Martin’s journey to reach the Panopticon, and it is something else. Since they left the cabin, Jon had mentioned multiple times that their journey wasn’t a purely physical one, that there was a meaning underneath it:

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: Geography doesn’t work anymore. Space… doesn’t work. MARTIN: … All right. So what does that mean? ARCHIVIST: It means the journey will be the journey, regardless of how we choose to make it. […] You see that tower, way off in the distance? MARTIN: Yeah. [PAUSE] [SIGH] It’s watching us, isn’t it? [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: The Panopticon and the Institute. Merged into something entirely new. MARTIN: Wha–, what? No, th–there’s, there’s no way we could see it from here. We, we must still be a hundred miles from the border, never mind London! ARCHIVIST: You could see that tower from anywhere on Earth. And it can see you. And if you walk towards it, eventually you’ll get there. But you have to go through everything in-between.

(MAG164) MARTIN: How much further do we still need to go? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: A long way. Through many dark and awful places… […] MARTIN: Are we safe, traveling like this? ARCHIVIST: Yes… Yes, sort of, we’re… I don’t know how to phrase it, we’re… something between a pilgrim and a moth. We can walk through these little worlds of terror, watching them; separate, and untouched.

(MAG165) MARTIN: But. You said we needed to go through these places. … Is that even going to work here? ARCHIVIST: Uh… [EXHALE] We need to go through them… metaphorically. MARTIN: Mm… ! ARCHIVIST: Psychologically, we need to… “experience” them.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: She was here, but the corridors of this place are… Rushing isn’t going to close the distance faster, it’s more about how we choose to move through these domains rather than our speed. BASIRA: What does that mean? MARTIN: I’ve been with him the whole way and I still don’t know. ARCHIVIST: It means we’ll reach her quicker if you stop tearing off, and let me concentrate on finding a proper path through this place. […] BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t. But you can’t hunt a monster that you refuse to see.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t a question. It was an instruction, we can’t… move on until you do. MARTIN: Jon, what are you getting at? ARCHIVIST: This isn’t just a journey through spaces. […] We aren’t finished here. […] I told you before, we can’t hunt a monster you refuse to see.

What is Jon’s and/or Martin’s journey? Basira has to learn to see/acknowledge the monster in order to hunt it; what is the mental process that Jon and/or Martin have to go through in order to be able to reach the Panopticon again? Is it about guilt, about their active responsibility (vs. what wasn’t their fault)? Is it about the line between victims and culprits not being that simple to establish, and them being unequipped to judge? Is it about their own fears?

- It felt like Basira made a lot of progress in this episode. She finally opened up and admitted how turning a blind eye had made her complicit. She implied that she had indeed tried to flee the responsibility of having to kill Daisy:

(MAG178) BASIRA: [QUIET] … I really am going to have to kill her, aren’t I? ARCHIVIST: There’s no way to bring her back. Not any more. At this point, if I tried to take away her fear… it would destroy her anyway. BASIRA: Am I even going to be able to? ARCHIVIST: Yes. BASIRA: And she stays dead? ARCHIVIST: In this case… yes. MARTIN: What about the powers? ARCHIVIST: Dream logic remember? She won’t come back. Trust me. BASIRA: … Does she want me to kill her? ARCHIVIST: She asked you to, didn’t she? BASIRA: No, I mean, right now. Is she suffering? ARCHIVIST: … No. Right now, she’s… She’s happy. MARTIN: [DEJECTED SIGH]

* Before this episode, Basira would probably have been unable to do it. Jon’s certainty contrasts with what he used to say about it:

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

So it feels like he, too, thinks that she’s now ready.

* I was wondering about whether or not Jon would be able to do anything to save Daisy with his powers: I was mostly waiting for him to explain whether he could or couldn’t help, I’m fine with this explanation (which makes sense in context). It also strikes me that… he had probably been mourning her for a while during that journey:

(MAG164) MARTIN: And Daisy? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: Bestial. Brutal. [STATIC DECREASES] [INHALE] Carving her way through the domains of other Powers, following the scent of blood. … Oh, Daisy, I’m sorry…

(MAG175) ARCHIVIST: Basira and Daisy. We’re close. MARTIN: Wait, what? Wait, really? B– Th–that’s brilliant! What are we waiting for, let’s go! ARCHIVIST: Uh, y–yeah, i–it’s… It’s not… it’s not going to be easy, things aren’t… good.

The fact that, despite Daisy’s murder attempt and the fact that it deeply traumatised Jon, they were able to form that friendship, feels so fragile and precious at the same time? Jon didn’t want to lose her. He’s not allowing her or letting her die because it feels like a fair punishment or the only way to deal with Daisy; it really feels like… it’s to honour Daisy’s last wish, as a person who wanted to be better and who got caught up by The Hunt.

* I’m a bit more curious about Jon explaining that Daisy would stay dead because of “dream-logic”: is it because of Jon’s own feelings influencing the world (if he feels like she’s dead for real, then she is)? Is it because, as long as Basira goes through that inner journey, killing someone in these circumstances can grant a “permanent” death unlike the domains? Is it because of their connection to The Eye…?

* é_è Basira’s last questions about what Daisy currently wanted broke my heart… and Jon’s answers did, too. It really feels like “Daisy” truly died in MAG158, uh? That what matters is what Daisy wanted while she was still herself, even though the beast she turned into is “happy” in this state. (And it requires a bit of faith: who is the real Daisy, which wish should be respected? The beast happy to hunt or kill? Or the assistant who was sorry about the harm she caused, withering while trying to “listen to the quiet”?

* Martin’s dejected sigh said a lot… Until now, he was mostly optimistic about the possibility of finding their “friends” back, of helping them. I don’t think he had envisioned that… no, Jon couldn’t save Daisy, could only “help” her by helping Basira to respect her last wish. (Martin was mostly withdrawn from that last conversation, and… yeah, it might have been a lot to internalise for him, too. Jon seems to have borne that knowledge for a while; it might even have contributed to his perception that he couldn’t improve the general situation whatsoever? While Martin, who was lacking the keys, had kept hoping that they could… do something good. Killing avatars, saving the children, helping their friends, maybe getting Daisy back. I wonder if the current circumstances are making him more susceptible to reach for Annabelle or answer her call a next time, since she had offered her “help” and Martin has been realising, lately, how powerless they are…)

- This episode was a Lot of processing and of sadness, and that last note…

(MAG178) BASIRA: Killing her won’t undo any of it. But… that’s not the point. ARCHIVIST: No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.

* Killing Daisy will be hard, and indeed. It won’t even change the harm she caused, won’t change the apocalypse. It won’t even be a matter of “retribution” or “justice”; but I’m glad that Basira is aware of that already, and that “the point” lies elsewhere. In this context, it’s really about respecting Daisy’s choice and what she wanted, to allow her to escape The Hunt one last time – even if it means killing her, and to prevent what she became to cause more harm. It’s about Daisy. (Which requires, to reach her, to go through what she had done: the person she had wronged and whose story had been hidden until now.)

* … I really loved Jon’s sad insight about this world. It is an unfair world, an unfair system, quite often echoing what the old world was: Daisy’s victims were, after all, already crushed and pressured by an unfair society, already pursued by their own fears (MAG177: “it’s the worry that everything is, is awful, and it’s actually… your fault. That, that you made it up […]. What, you think he ended up in Wonderland House at random? We’re just going to ignore it, and write him off as a ‘nasty piece of work’?”; and it’s meaningful, in the same way, that in this episode, Isabelle Moran was found in this factory, where people are pressured and pushed around and ultimately labelled as “useless”).

* I still really wonder what all this means about Jonah. He was initially afraid to die, or to be subjected to a different apocalypse, so is he also a victim of “whatever hurts him the most” in this new world…? (I still really wonder how Jon will behave in front of Elias. We’ve seen, again and again, how labelling someone/something as a “monster” doesn’t cover the whole reality of it: the “criminals” were mostly dragged down by society, the cruel “avatars” had often been preyed upon when they were vulnerable… I can still dig Jonah as TheWorstTM, the selfish asshole who doomed the world for his own benefit; but I also feel like it would be very in synch with this season to… mostly have Jon spitting to his face about how pitiful and afraid he had been, and how fear had motivated his actions way more than he thought?)

* What is “what hurts Basira the most”, then? Is it to have to kill Daisy? To see and acknowledge their past actions? I wonder what will happen to her next: will she be pulled back in into a domain? Will she be spared because of Jon’s presence, or because of her connection to The Eye because she’s still an assistant? (I’m thinking again about the possibility of Jon’s victims being in the Panopticon right now: the assistants were protected from the nightmares once they had signed the contract… but Martin, Basira, Melanie and Georgie had all given their statements to Jon. Would they happen to all be journeying towards his domains in a way, because they belong there because of the statements they gave…?)

* Big question being, of course… what is “what hurts Jon the most”. Is it the guilt of having launched the apocalypse and having to benefit from it despite his disgust (he’s not hungry anymore, he’s aware that it does feel good in a way that he hates)? Is it to have to be a passive voyeur in this new world? Is it to lose his friends, first with Daisy? Is it The Web dancing around Martin? Is it something he knows about their journey or about the Panopticon, and doesn’t want to tell Martin yet…?

- You could really see Basira’s progression through the episode, as she dealt with how Jon was leading the way:

(MAG178) BASIRA: … You’re sure she came through here? ARCHIVIST: Have I steered you wrong so far? BASIRA: I don’t know, do I? We haven’t actually found her yet. ARCHIVIST: We’re getting closer. BASIRA: Great. […] ARCHIVIST: Great. Well, in that case, shall we move on? BASIRA: After you. ARCHIVIST: … Right. […] BASIRA: … Can we move on, now? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Yes. I believe we can. This way.

From being distrustful of Jon to… being way more humble about it, and accepting that he knows what he’s doing and that it’s in her interest, too. From being suspicious and defensive, to cautious and strategic, to confiding and relying on him.

- Overall, I’m “!!” because this episode… managed to sell me on Daisy’s death, while I was really dubious about it?

I was pre-emptively a bit disappointed about the possibility of Daisy coming back as a Hunt beast just to get killed, because I felt that it was a bit pointless to make it drag for so long, while she… could have died on her terms in MAG158 instead. But here, where to reach Daisy, in order to fulfil her promise, Basira has to see, process and acknowledge the harm Daisy had caused and that she had herself enabled? It works for me! It finally unlocks Basira’s own development, that I was hoping for; it’s sad as hell; and it’s not portrayed as Daisy’s punishment or retribution. It’s about both acknowledging the harm and damage Daisy had caused (as the process to be able to catch up to her), and about respecting Daisy as an individual who was capable of growth, exercised it, was aware of the wrong she had done and firmly owned up to it, and didn’t want to return to that life – but was forced to by a power too big and crushing, and circumstances playing against her. It’s not done as an act of hate or revenge, or because Daisy’s crimes are too heavy for her to be allowed to live. It’s not a death sentence. It’s both about acknowledging Daisy’s crimes and how she had wrecked people’s lives, how she had been allowed and enabled to unleash her violence and unfairness, how Basira had willingly decided to ignore most of Daisy’s actions, and it’s because Daisy didn’t want to be a “sadistic predator” again, and asked Basira to stop her, respecting the fact that Daisy had improved as a person (to the point that she knew she couldn’t ask for “forgiveness”). So, I’m relieved about how things are heading: it’s sad as fuck, I’m going to be miserable, but so far, things sound incredibly satisfying, narratively?

(We know that The Eye might influence Jon to only see the worse or more painful side of things, so I’m not entirely ruling out that there could be a surprise, Martin doing something, or Annabelle, or Georgie&Melanie appearing with a solution? But I doubt it: I’m satisfied with the explanations given, how we’re prepared to say goodbye to Daisy, how respectful it is both of her victims and of her awareness of the harm she had caused, leading to her decision to be better… So, really, I’m fine. Crying in advance but FINE.)

MAG179’s title screams “Basira!” (but could technically apply to Annabelle or Helen, or Jon himself…). I’m not sure Daisy is getting killed this episode, but we might get a whiff of her? Or a cliff-hanger about her towards the end?

Domain-wise, mm… Could be a pause like MAG167, could be Hunt or Slaughter, Corruption? (It does feel like an anti-Lonely title, mostly!)

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sickly-qt · 5 years ago

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Okay so I have a request! It’s a classic scenario, but it never gets old!! Maybe Ambrose and Liam are driving somewhere pretty far, and get some sketchy food and once they’re back on the road, oops. It’s food poisoning. Queue them pulling over multiple times to be sick and it’s just miserable, but one definitely has it worse, so the one who’s less sick has to suck it up for a little and drive to the motel. Then just more puking and comfort!

This was a lot of fun! Here you go!

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Ambrose teased, rubbing Liam’s thigh as he woke up.

“Hi.” Liam mumbled, stretching. “How far are we?”

“About an hour and a half.” Ambrose responded, looking at Liam out of the corner of his eye.

“Ugh, I hate being in the car this long.” Liam complained, shifting in his seat and looking out the window.

“You act like we don’t make this trip regularly, Babe.”

“Yeah, and the drive sucks every time.” Liam leaned back as far as he could in the car seat and closed his eyes again, “My stomach hurts.”

“Is it bad?” Ambrose asked, not really concerned. They had stopped to eat at some random diner earlier and the food was probably messing with Liam, like most foods tended to do.

Liam shrugged and sighed, shifting in the seat again until he was comfortable. “Not really, I just feel really full.”

“Okay, maybe try to go back to sleep until we get there.”

Liam had no issue falling back asleep, but he kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he slept. Ambrose would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling a bit off himself. As he drove his stomach got more unsettled. Everything got worse when they hit traffic. The stop and go motion of the car was doing terrible things for Ambrose’s stomach.

Ambrose leaned back his seat a bit and cracked his window to get some fresh air. It was cold but stale, hot air the car was blowing was making him feel sick.

When Liam woke up again Ambrose knew they were screwed.

“How’re you feeling?” Ambrose asked, watching Liam rub his stomach while he stretched.

“Kind of nauseous,” He mumbled, muffling a burp into his hand. “‘Scuse me. I think the food from that place isn’t agreeing with me.”

“Great.” Ambrose looked at the GPS, which had an ETA of about 45 minutes. Judging by Liam’s face though, he wasn’t sure if they had 45 minutes.

Liam took a deep breath and swallowed, “Actually, I feel really sick.”

“I feel kind of gross too, I don’t think the food was good.” Ambrose said quietly, watching the quick unraveling of his boyfriend.

“Are you kidding?” Liam whined, leaning his head back against the headrest. “Food poisoning is exactly what we needed on this trip.”

“We have about a half hour to the hotel.”

“I don’t know ‘Brose, I feel really bad.” Liam groaned, “And you’re not really looking too great either.”

“Yeah. I’m trying not to think about it, but you’re whining isn’t really helping.” Ambrose sighed.

With basically no warning Liam hiccuped and quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, panic in his eyes.

“Fuck,” Ambrose mumbled, dumping the bag of water bottles in his back seat and shoving it into Liam’s hands.

Liam shook open the bag and a mouthful of vomit flooded the plastic bag.

“You’re okay, Lee.” Ambrose said, reaching over the center console to rub his back.

Liam was almost impossibly quiet when he was sick, meaning there was no warning for Ambrose except for the sound of another wave rushing up his throat.

“I’ll pull over as soon as I can.” Ambrose told Liam, trying his best to keep his composure. The sound of Liam being sick really making his stomach rebel.

“Holy shit.” Liam groaned, tying the bag and sitting in in the footwell. “That sucked really bad.”

Ambrose nodded, not opening his mouth. As soon as they got off the exit ramp Ambrose pulled off to the side and quickly opened his door, emptying his stomach onto the pavement. He coughed harshly and gagged again before pulling himself back into the car.

“We’re fucked right?” Liam mumbled, cracking open a bottle of water.

Ambrose nodded, “So fucked.” He rested his head on the steering wheel for a second before pulling back onto the road.

That lasted about fifteen minutes before they were pulled into a rest stop with Liam doubled over in the grass about ten feet away from the car.

“Are you okay babe?” Ambrose called from where he was leaning against the trunk of the car, sipping a bottle of water. It bothered him that he had to be so distant but he knew that if he went over, he would feel sick again and he still needed to drive the rest of the way to where they were staying.

“Yeah.” He called weakly, before his shoulders pitched forward and more of his stomach contents spilled onto the grass.

Liam walked back over to the car, looking pale and miserable. He leaned his forehead against Ambrose’s chest and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“This isn’t fair,” He whined. “You’re fine now and I’m still sick.”

“I still feel pretty rough, but I’m sorry you feel so bad babe.” Ambrose said, running his fingers along his spine.

Liam shook his head, “It’s not your fault. Let’s go so we can get to the hotel, I want to lay down.” he said weakly, walking to the other side of the car.

“Do you want any water?” Ambrose asked, after getting in.

“No, I want to make it to the hotel without throwing up again.” Liam leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

They made it to the hotel without further incident and Liam sat in the car while Ambrose checked in. He grabbed their bags out of the trunk and knocked on the window for Liam to get out.

He followed Ambrose to their room, shaky and pale, collapsing into the bed as soon as he saw it.

“Do you want to get a shower first?” Ambrose asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, tucking Liam’s hair behind his ear.

Liam nodded into the pillow and then got up, pulling some pajamas out of his bag and shuffling into the bathroom.

The water felt nice against his skin and he relaxed for a second, but only a second.

Ambrose came into the bathroom barely making it to the toilet before he vomited, catching his hand and the toilet seat in the process.

“‘Brose?” Liam called, peaking around the shower curtain. The sight alone, making him gag.

“I’m sorry, I tried to wait until you came out.” He choked before burping up another mouthful of sick.

Liam winced, “It’s okay.” he stopped the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, “Aw, sweets it’s in your hair.” Liam said, part disgusted and part sympathetic.

“Are you serious?” he asked, resting his head on his clean hand. “I took it out because I had a headache, I knew I should’ve left it up.” Ambrose flushed the toilet and stood up. He washed his hands and turned to the toilet, wiping it down with a towel.

“I’ll clean it up better tomorrow,” He mumbled, completely out of energy. “I do feel a bit better now though.”

Liam got dressed while Ambrose took a shower and laid down on the bed, on top of the blankets. The coolness felt nice.

Ambrose came out of the bathroom in exercise shorts and a towel draped over his shoulders, his freckles standing out by how pale he was.

“Come lay down.” Liam said, rolling over to make room for Ambrose.

Ambrose hung the towel on the door and walked over, laying down next to Liam and pulling him close to him.

“God, I hope this doesn’t last all weekend.” He mumbled into Liam’s hair, “I was really excited to go snowboarding.”

“I was really excited to watch you snowboard,” Liam replied. “Let’s get some sleep and hope this all is over by the morning.”

He knew this was wishful thinking as his stomach was starting to cramp again, but he could try to get some sleep in the meantime.

“I love you.” Ambrose whispered, pressing a kiss into Liam’s temple.

“I love you too ‘Brose. Goodnight.”

#my writing #my ocs #Ambrose #Liam #emeto

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feminarrie · 6 years ago

Text

basic instincts [c.e]

a/n: this is my first real public venture into A/B/O dynamics. thank you again to @pastelshawns for lending me this concept! also thank you to chris evans for having uhh the best thighs!

18+ below the cut!

Two months she’s been away from him. A total of ninety-three days since she met him at the airport when he quite literally bumped into her as he rushed to catch his flight after his gate had changed. When she felt the electricity surge through her when his palms had pressed to her bicep and fingers curled to keep her steady. A furrow of his brow that melted when he locked eyes with her; his eyes flashing a golden honey with confusion, understanding, and then pain. If she thinks about the day for too long—which she does, routinely—she can still feel the ghost of his lips along her knuckles as he urged her to let him know when she lands. The scrunch of his nose when he looks back as he boards, the shadow of sadness fading with the light of hope of their bright future.

Even as his omega, she thinks he’s been more generous than need be. This is her second trip to see Chris in a span of three months and again, he had funded it fully. He’s spoiled her with a seat in first class and worked his schedule around so that it’s him that picks her up from the airport.

Turkish blue eyes scan the crowd for her, but he scents her before he sees her. A low rumble in his chest that can only be likened to a purr emits from his chest when he sees her. She’s swimming in a sweatshirt that he had bought for her during her last visit. He had kept it nearby, his scent weaving itself into the cotton and fleece blend. When she’s wrapped up in his arms, he tucks his nose into her shoulder and all he can smell is her. It’s overwhelming and comforting all at once. Captivating, sweet, and warm and Chris is happy he’s been able to take the next three days off to do nothing more than nose at her mark and let her command all of his senses.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” Chris murmurs into her neck before turning his head to press a lingering kiss to her shoulder. She hums at the pillowy kisses at the sliver of exposed skin, eyes glittering with flecks of gold that only Chris can conjure up. Her fingers search out his hand, cupping it in her much smaller hand so that she can run a thumb over his knuckles. Her thumb undulates across them, the pad of it gliding easily over soft skin. Briefly does she contemplate asking to use whatever expensive hand cream he must use. The thought flitters away with ease, replaced with the idea of curling up next to her alpha and existing solely in that pocket of safety and comfort for the next week.

. . . . . .

For the first three days, they both exist in that pocket. In being newly mated, the two of them hardly know each other. She knows that he’s relinquished his title as the current Captain America and gets a little pouty when he’s hungry. Chris knows that she is a blanket hog and that Dodger much preferred her snuggles over his when he had invited her to his home the first time. They spent the vast majority of those days filling in the gaps, giving and taking as much information as they feel comfortable, while holed up in Chris’ apartment.

Day four is when she wakes up with a subtle ache in her lower tummy and the lack of warmth that is usually provided by Chris’ sleeping form. She is quick to recognize that she is in the early stages of her heat and for a moment, she’s grateful that Chris is filming for the next sixteen or so hours. It gives her the chance to rid herself of the slowly warming coil in her tummy without the embarrassment she would feel for keening at the simple, innocent touches her alpha spoils her with. Even though she knows it’s natural, instinctual, she and Chris have hardly been that type of intimate. Physical touches only turning sinful when Chris traps her bottom lip between his teeth and presses a palm to the mark on her neck.

She ignores the dull ache between her thighs until she’s in the shower. The remnants of Chris’ time in the spacious glass shower consume all of her senses in the few seconds it takes for the water to heat up. His scent is still thick despite the fact that he’s been gone nearly six hours already. It’s heady and woody—all sandalwood and smoke—when the steam further amplifies it. Her eyes drift shut as she inhales deeply and the ache within her becomes far more noticeable.

She cums once, twice, three times in the shower before the water runs cold. Her fingers and toes are pruned, but she feels satiated and content in the post glow of her orgasms. Enough so that fatigue sets in her bones and leaves her with just enough energy to pull a black, baggy shirt over her head and some pretty baby blue boyshorts over the swell of her ass. She thinks there no sense in doing much more than that when she has every plan to take a short nap before cooking dinner for Chris to come home to after a long day of filming.

Her feet only leave the floor when she’s crawling onto the California king mattress where she plops herself right in the middle. She reaches for Chris’ pillow without hesitation, pulling it to her chest with one hand while the other pushes the comforter toward her legs. Sinking into the warmth of the comforter is easy with the bed still unmade; it lulls her to sleep in no time at all. The smell of her alpha just under her nose as she cradles the downy pillow to her chest.

She swears she only meant to sleep for an hour or two. Yet, she wakes hours later with the press of Chris’ lips at her forehead, cheeks, and then her Cupid’s bow when she blinks up at him. He’s half sitting up, most of his weight is held up by his forearm as he rolls to his left side. It allows him enough mobility to reach his right hand up to stroke at her cheek with his thumb, large palm cupping her jaw. She returns his kind gestures with a warm smile and long tired blinks before she presses a kiss to the heel of his palm.

“You’re back.” Her voice is soft and slow as molasses as she blinks up at him. Chris nods with a quiet laugh as to not pop the quiet of the dark room. Her face is washed in the golden rays of the setting sun, catching the flecks and swirls of gold in her eyes that never really seem to go away when she’s with him. The distinct sound of sheets rustling render Chris’ attempts useless, but he doesn’t mind when she leans forward to press their lips together. Even chapped, he’s content to know that he’ll be privileged to her kisses in this life and the many thereafter—mated and destined to find one another until the end of time. “I’ve missed you.” He says, pressing another chaste to her lips. The admission warms her and tugs at the corners of her lips in a tired smile. She repeats the sentiment with a soft sigh that is timed perfectly with a low growling in her stomach.

“S’late and you’re hungry, bug. You want to order in?” He asks and drops the hand at her cheek to place it at her hip beneath the comforter. He croons when he realizes she’s in nothing more than a shirt and underwear. The fatigue that has darkened the skin beneath his eyes and her pliancy does more to soften him than arouse him. Her rubs the skin just above the waistband, tilting his head slightly in question. She hums her affirmation and content, nodding her head ever so slightly.

They decide on some Korean place just ten minutes away that Chris discovered his first week of filming. He leaves her to wake up some more, pulling a baseball cap over lengthy brown hair and kissing her half a dozen times before he steps out the door. Chris isn’t time for too long, but long enough that she’s able to shuffle out into the living room and queue up something for something to watch. She settles on reruns of Criminal Minds, knowing it’ll hold their attention if they choose, but at a volume that allows it to fade into background noise.

It starts out as background noise as they eat, Chris talking about his day between mouthfuls of food. She prompts him with more questions about his day which warms something in Chris’ chest, spreads to his fingers and toes in waves of heat and electricity. It hums within him as he asks about her day though she answers with how mundane it had been. She also conveniently omits the fact that her heat is just around the corner because it simply doesn’t seem pertinent to their conversation.

(Really, she thinks mentioning how she’d been so wound up that she got off to his scent alone doesn’t exactly fit the picture of domesticity they exist in currently).

Eventually, the conversation dies down and with it, her energy wanes until Chris is beckoning her to lay her head down in his lap. An offer that she accepts willingly, shuffling down the couch to rest her head on his left thigh. His leg hair tickles her cheek as she pushes the fabric of his grey jogger shorts up so that she may feel the warmth of his body without barriers. His arm comes down to rest on a sliver of skin between her boyshorts and shirt, once again stroking at the expanse of warm skin. It lulls her into a safe, happy space that has her eyelids feeling heavy as she watches the television.

It’s the picture of honeymoon phase bliss and innocence until it’s not.

She’s never felt the ache quite this deep or robust. It feels red hot and more animalistic than anything she has ever felt before. If her thoughts weren’t so preoccupied with the way Chris’ thighs feel beneath her cheek, she would’ve made the connection between her impending heat and the presence of her alpha. Instead, she’s turning her head before she even thinks to stop herself and presses a lingering kiss just above his knee. Then another just above that and a trail of them before her lips ghost over the fraying hem of his shorts.

“Omega.”

She stills in her movements, but not out of fear or embarrassment. The deep, rumbly tone is something she has never heard from Chris. It’s authoritative and questioning all at once, and has her insides scrambling in anticipation. Eagerly does she look up at him beneath her lashes when she lifts her head. A mistake on her part, really. Chris’ lips are parted and his eyes a deep golden yellow. His nostrils flaring as he gets the first trace of her arousal. She smells of the earth after rain and something sweet that he can’t quite place, but it’s uniquely her—his omega.

He doesn’t stop her when she nips along the top of his thigh, peppering his pale skin with tints of red and pink. He simply tucks his lower lip between his teeth and grips her hip, thumb pressing into her Adonis belt. A low growl of her name stops the worrying of his lower lip for just a moment, but does little to stop her from kissing at his inner thigh once she’s shifted to gain better access. Her left hand reaches across to rub at his other thigh, squeezing when she sucks and bites a mark into the smooth skin of the innermost part of his thigh. The flat of her tongue soothes over it before she does the same just diagonal of the previous mark that has begun to blossom with pretty shades of red and tinges of purple. It earns her a deep, warning growl from somewhere in Chris’ chest and she halts her movements. Something about the noise above her has her backing down into submission.

“M’sorry, alpha.” The title rolls off her tongue with ease and it only serves to make Chris that much more aroused. He is painfully hard and straining even in the looser fabric of his shorts. Something that she is obviously aware of, tongue swiping over her bottom lip when she glances down between them. “Don’t apologize. Come here.” He says, patting his lap with one hand and she all, but scrambles to fit herself in his lap; fits her knee between his thighs and straddles his right one. It’s undoubtedly to relieve some of the pressure that is building in her core, but Chris doesn’t say a word about it. He only pushes up the hem of her shirt so that his hands can rest on the warm, bare skin of her hips.

“I want you so bad, sweetheart. I really do, but m’tired.” He watches as her look down, lips quivering around an apology. “I just don’t feel it’d be right for me to do that to you, hm? You’re close to your heat and deserve all that I can give, don’t you think?” Chris continues and feels the way her body heats up with his words. From the way her body feels as though it’s buzzing above him, he thinks she had no plans to tell him of her impending heat. Yet, it was obvious the moment her lips met the spot just above his knee. In fact, she was damn near nuzzling at him and that was his first hint that she was likely approaching her heat. “I just want to take care of you, little omega.”

She ruts against his thigh at his words, a low whine and apology following soon after. It’s then that Chris realizes how wet she really is. She has already soaked through her boyshorts and feels slick against his thigh. His eyes fall shut, his nose scrunching as if he is in pain. Which is not so far from the truth because fuck, he really wishes that he had enough energy in him to give her exactly what she wants—what they both want. But, a long day of action sequences on set has generated an unmistakeable ache in his muscles.

Chris feels terrible, he really does. It’s that unsatisfied desire and guilt that have him tilting his head at her in thought. Her own eyes, clouded with desperation and lust, scan his face as he thinks. An eyebrow quirks at him when he leans forward to press a kiss at the corner of her lips and comes away with a mischievous glint in his eye that glitters in the light of the television. She doesn’t have to question what he is thinking about for long because his grip on her hips tighten, moving her forward and then back again.

“Oh.” She whispers when Chris does it again, her clit pressed to his thigh. His hands never leave her hips even when she begins to ride his thigh on her own, her own hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. Nails dig into his back despite the layer of fabric between them as if she’s attempting to ground herself in the moment. Her eyes are closed as she fucks herself on Chris’ thighs, her hip muscles straining just slightly as she shifts to balance herself better.

“Look so pretty for me, little omega.” Chris praises her as she glides across his thigh. She moans, soft and breathy, in response. He thinks it’s quite possibly the most beautiful and sensual sounds he’s ever heard, if he’s honest. Her next words, however, are by far the filthiest. “Want your knot, alpha. Need it.” She mewls, hips stuttering as she nears the edge. He can feel the way her body winds up tight—muscles taut, jaw clenched—and smell how close she is. A predatory, animalistic growl rips from Chris’ chest as the strings holding her together begin to snap.

“Gonna fill you up with it tomorrow, sweetheart. Promise.” It’s the sweet, but sinful admission that is her undoing. Her head falls forward, forehead pressed against his shoulder as her orgasm runs through her; makes her shiver and quake above him as he squeezes at her hips, helping her ride through her high. He presses kisses into her temple and along her cheekbones all while listening to the way her heart works to calm itself. Though, he notices the telltale sound of a skipped beat when he pulls back to press a kiss to her lips. Smiles up at her with a sated, content look that holds something just a little bit more. Though, Chris thinks he’ll wait to tell her that, that “little bit more” is the beginnings of love that have started to take root in his chest.

#my writing #chris evans x reader #alpha!chris evans #alpha!ce #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans oneshot #chris evans drabble #chris evans blurb

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babygirlofwakanda · 5 years ago

Text

Season’s Greeting

CHARACTERS — Giselle X Chris Hemsworth

CONTENT — Christmas Shenanigans and Surpises!

PLOT — A little somethin’ surrounding Christmas.

NARRATIVE — Christmas has always been an event for Giselle. Dating back to her excitement and starry eyed gaze at the string lights as a child in Texas, the brown beauty’s unconditional love for the holiday hasn’t strayed throughout the decades.

Sharing her passion with her husband, Chris quickly understood the importance to Giselle and has since aided in making this time of year special for her and now for their children.

A long way from the modern style home he once knew, the six-foot four man stood in between the living room and kitchen with his hands on his hips and admired the festive changes. With an array of red, white and gold accented decor spread through the house Chris took everything in. Starting from the train track underneath the eight-foot tree, red throw pillows and holiday figurines on the tables to the mistletoe he stashed above the doorways.

Stifling out a laugh at his wife’s attention to detail the Aussie shuffled over to the mirror in the hallway and flattened his palm over his black long-sleeve shirt before sighing while looking at his TAG Heuer.

“Giselle— sweetheart! The reservation is for eight and its almost six forty-five, we gotta hit the road!”

“—I know Chris, I’m coming! Uh, just gimme like five more minutes.” He heard her promise, making Chris exhale only for him to inhale the scented pine cones dipped in various oils scattered around his house.

Whispering, “What the hell is she doing up there..” under his breath, Chris waltzed into the kitchen.

Reaching down the actor stole a couple of gumdrop from his children’s gingerbread houses, propped up against the countertop before popping a few into his mouth. Grabbing another gumdrop from the rooftop of the gingerbread house, Chris allowed the smooth harmonies of The Temptations Silent Night playing from the speakers to distract him from the time.

Alone in the kitchen with a mouth full of candy Chris tried to hold the classic ‘silent night’ note only for his gruff voice to come out in the wrong pitch. “—damn babe!” He heard Giselle’s squeak out from behind.

Turning around as Giselle’s infectious laugh echoed through the kitchen, the Aussie strolled closer and continued his singing; keeping a smile on her face.

Inching his face closer towards Giselle, he cradled her face and started to lower his face only to pause mid-motion as he admired her undeniable beauty.

Meeting him halfway Giselle lifted her face to kiss him; immediately muffling his singing. Pulling back from the tender kiss Giselle felt Chris nudge his nose against hers in a way to subliminally ask for another kiss before she placed a hand against his black silk shirt and whispered, “Let’s go.” against his lips.

“Uh, okay,” Chris groaned, as he stood straight with a pout, “—but not before you spin around for me!” He hyped, quickly replacing his frown with a sly grin.

Sliding his palm into hers, Chris lifted their hands up and motioned for her to twirl around. Gluing his eyes to her body as Giselle pivoted in a circle, he watched the silk and denim pairing clutch onto every slope of her body. Leaving Chris blinking away the lust from his orbs before she turned to him; exhaling Chris licked over his lips before he ushered them out.

Oh, how date night was Chris’s fucking favorite night. With the children out with their grandparents; Alex and Janice who arrived last night, they were out doing some last minute shopping before taking the kids to see Frozen 2 for the umpteenth time.

The clinging of silverware, small chatter and the sizzling of the food carried on the trays of passing waiters filled Giselle’s ear. Glancing around the deck Giselle admired the string lights wrapped around the balcony and beams while the dark purple hue above painted the sky as the sunsetted above the ocean.

Enthralled in the scene, Giselle felt the wind softly blow through her hair while she breathed in the salty air before shifting around. Taking ahold of her straw, she stirred the strawberry lemonade conation and gripped the glass before bringing it to her lips.

Gulping down her drink in one take she heard her husband clear his throat before his voice followed, “Uh, is everything alright?” He questioned, making Giselle slowly sink in her chair. Did he figure her out?

“No, um— I’m fine. Why, wassup?” She rebutted.

“It’s just that um— everytime we come here you order the wine,” The Australian stuttered out, before he went to nervously rub the back of his neck.

“—and as of late, you’ve been chugging down the lemonade— but it’s not just that; it’s everything.”

“Like how lately you practically start gagging on queue whenever seafood is present— which may I remind you has been your favorite food since we’ve met. Or the constant running off the bathroom and now the lemonade! Baby, you only do that when,”

“—I have your basket of garlic bread right here, your food should be out shortly.” The waiter interrupted.

Directing her gaze from Chris’s anxious face to the smiling waiter, Giselle returned his grin while silently thanking the high heavens for stopping her husband from talking his way into ruining her surprise present.

The rest of the dinner flowed nicely. After forgetting the suggestive topic he was going to discuss, Chris and Giselle ate and giggled as they thought about how their family was going to react to their gifts.

Hitting a quiet mark as her husband sipped on his tequila, Giselle knew this was her opportunity to talk to Chris. Clearing her throat, “Now, I know that we’ve agreed that we weren’t gonna spoil eachother before Christmas but I got somethin’ for you honeybun.”

Reaching into her purse Giselle slipped out a brown flat, but wide box tied with a glittery red bow before she placed it on the table and slid it towards Chris.

With her acrylics still on the box, Giselle watched Chris’s thick digits touch the other end before she flicked her orbs up to look into his. “I couldn’t wait babe, I needed to have this moment with you and only you.” She detailed, before releasing the box.

In the box contained three positive pregnancy tests and underneath was a photoset of their unborn child.

With days of denying the possibility after her sick episode in Texas, Giselle couldn’t shake the feeling but once the symptoms started to slowly arise she abruptly sent her assistant to the store. Making out the two lines with ease Giselle kept her little secret and found out she was coming along nine weeks pregnant until this very moment; this second.

Instantly feeling a wave of vulnerability travel down her spine Giselle also felt the urge of premature tears threatening to unleash as one slipped from her eye while she watched her husband’s instant reaction.

Staring at her husband Giselle saw the corners of Chris’s mouth quickly lift as he picked up one of the tests and widened his smile over the digital two lines before he put it down and caressed his thumb over the developing baby in the ultrasound pictures.

Watching the moment Chris finally looked up, the brown beauty caught the extra gloss over his eyes before he blinked and allowed a tear to fall as well.

“Giselle! Oh my— this is fucking incredible baby!”

Thankful for the secluded area, Giselle beamed as Chris abruptly jumped up; making the chair screech in the process before he jogged over to embrace her.

Standing up, Giselle was immediately wrapped in Chris’s arms as he rocked her side to side. Pressing kisses all over her head he mumbled, “I fucking love you,” gripped her face and exchanged a tearful gaze with his wife before he smashed their lips together.

——————————

The Christmas spirit was unmatched in the Hemsworth household. With everyone clad in a holiday printed onesies and slippers, drinking from their customized mugs of hot chocolate and Giselle’s playlist that included everyone from Destiny’s Child, Wham! to Alexander O’Neal playing through the tv; the family piled into the living with full stomachs from the big breakfast before passing out gifts.

“GiGi! You did not!” Iris gasped, as she slowly pulled the dust bag out of the mustard-colored Fendi box.

Hearing her sister squeal once the neon pink bag from Nicki Minaj’s collab was in her possession, the oldest sister swore she saw Iris leap across the living room just to bring Chris and her into a bear hug while she beamed. Once Iris released them and returned to baby Mia attempting to put a red bow in her mouth, Giselle continued watching her kids unwrap their gifts before she looked over her shoulder to find Chris with a silver glitter box lying in his palms.

Closely watching her husband raise the top Giselle instantly caught Chris’s blue eyes light up while his jaw falter open making the quarter million she spent all worth it for her honeybun’s priceless smile. In the box contained the car keys to a 1965 Chevy Corvair Monza with a custom baby blue paint job, cream seating, silver detailing and a full tank of gas.

After hearing countless fond memories of her husband’s childhood singled around this vehicle, Giselle knew it was only a matter of time before she had to get Chris the car he constantly ranted about.

Heart-racing from excitement the Aussie quickly picked up the keys and pressed a button abruptly making the car ring out. Immediately looking at his wife with childlike joy, Chris struggled to his feet and ran to the front door which instantly made the rest of the family follow behind in peak curiosity. Running to the driveway Chris quickly faltered his steps once his eyes landed on the replica car his father, Craig drove around when Chris was nothing but a young lad.

Picking up his pace while he unlocked the car, Chris slid in the car with door propped opened and gawked over the smooth interior. Hearing the footsteps of his family scurrying down the pavement, the surprised man took his orbs off the vehicle and brought them to Giselle who grinned as she stared back at him.

—and before he knew it, Chris was stumbling out of the car and over to her like a lovesick puppy as the family patted his back and went to admire the car.

Roughly gripping her face the Aussie scooped down and kissed Giselle to transfer his appreciation before he leaned back and pulled her frame into his while he swayed her body with his eyes closed. “Whew, I love you so fucking much girl!” He grunted, before he squeezed her tighter with his last few words.

“I love you too, honeybun. I hope you liked your gift.”

Immediately cocking his head back, Chris quickly scrunched his face up, “Liked? Girl, I love this gift.” He corrected, making Giselle’s infectious laugh ring out. Biting his lips in effort to contain his smile Chris slid his tongue over his lips as he looked down at his wife, “C’mon, I still have gifts for you.” He winked, with a nod to the house before pulling her hand.

Returning back to the living room with the family slowing filing back inside, the brown beauty retook her place back on the floor while Chris searched for a specific gift and within a few moments, the wrapped present was placed infront of her crisscrossed legs.

Grinning up at her husband, Giselle dragged her chocolate orbs away from him and turned towards her gift before she pressed her acrylics through the striped wrapping paper. Uncovering the orange box, Giselle squealed as she ran a finger over the Hermès logo engraved on the lid. After lifting the top, pulling the tissue paper back to grab the dust bag, Giselle felt her smile reach her eyes once her hand made contact with the slick fabric before pulling it out.

“Oh, shit!” She rasped, with her wide-eyes glued to the exclusive Rose Scheherazade Porosus Crocodile Birkin bag. Ghosting a hand over the reptile skin, the overjoyed wife flicked her eyes to her blue eyed beau; who now sat beside her and beamed as he observed her reaction. Throwing her arms around his neck she started placing kissing all over his face, “Thank you! Thank you!” Giselle repeated, as her family awed.

After months of procrastinating to buy this bag only to avoid the store whenever she was on Rodeo Drive, Giselle never expected Chris to catch her off guard.

“Ew!” The couple heard their kids groan whenever their affection lingering for more than thirty seconds.

Pulling away with a laugh, Giselle grabbed her latest addition to her Birkins before squealing once more.

Wrapping paper slowly began to litter the floor and sitting on the floor watching, the Hollywood couple watched on still enamored by their personal gifts.

“—good lookin’ out on the shades guys!” Liam yelled, with a thumbs up as he waved his storage case full of aviators around. Smiling at her brother-in-law, Giselle watched as her children and nieces excitedly played with their new toys while her parents and in-laws gawked over their designer trinkets and bags.

Looking up at her husband who also looked around the living room, it wasn’t long before Chris caught her eyes and the Hollywood couple shared a look.

Knowing that they had an important announcement to share with their family, Giselle sprung to her feet and grabbed a wrapped box hidden behind the tree while Chris got everybody’s attention, “Hey, hey!”

“We have something we would like to share with everyone.” His thick accent ranged out, with a touch of nervousness and excitement inflected in his tone.

“Yes, we do.” Giselle hinted, as she placed the box on the coffee table infront of where her parents and in-laws sat. “—please, everyone gather around.”

Retreating back to where her husband stood, Giselle threw her left arm around his waist while he draped his arm over her shoulder and brought her closer.

“Go on and open it.” The actress gestured, making Mama Janice and Mama Leonie carefully open the box while Papa Alex and Papa Craig looked on.

Anxiously watching her parents and in-laws raise the lid to the box, Giselle nervously leaned into Chris and lifted her hands to her face only to spread them and peak between her fingers as their shrieks echoed.

In the box contained a ultrasound picture tapped to the lid with a black letter-board in the box that read, ‘Baby Hemsworth. Due in June 2020.’ and under the board included a beige teddy bear, a baby rattle and bottle, and a folded white bodysuit and mini socks.

“—ahh! I knew it, I knew it!” Mama Janice exclaimed, as she jumped up and down before walking towards her daughter with her arms out and a bright smile.

Breaking away from her husband, Giselle was instantly immersed in the warmth of her mother’s arms. With tears of joys slipping from her chocolate orbs, the emotional beauty smiled and wiped at her tears before she was embraced by a tearful Leonie.

“Congratulations, sweetheart!” Her mother-in-law whispered, before pressing a chaste kiss to Giselle’s head and pulling away. Gushing from all the love, the actress caught her husband dapping up Quinton and Liam as they also gave their ‘congrats’ before teasing Chris on baby number four. Smiling at their moment Giselle’s eyes were quickly taken off them as small arms wrapped themselves around her abdomen.

Looking down she spotted her twins hugging her growing belly, “I love you mommy!”, “I can’t wait for the baby to come out!” Her girls squealed, before she hugged her twins and kissed their heads. As the girls skipped away to go play with their new iPads. Giselle went to go take a seat when the soft pulling of her onesie immediately caught her attention.

Dragging her eyes down Giselle instantly saw her babyboy’s ever-changing green eyes peering up at her while a frown graced his face. Twisting her own lips around the momma-bear cupped her three year olds chin before she asked what was wrong. “I don’t wanna share you.” He pouted, “C’mon Julian, your sisters had to share their time with me when you came along and now you have to do the same.”

“It doesn’t mean that mommy or daddy loves you any less, you hear me? We love you, and besides,”

Crouching down almost eyelevel to Julian, Giselle spoke to her youngest child, “—this means that you get to be a big brother Jules!” She hyped, as a smile replaced his confusion. Taking him into her arms, she cradled Julian’s body in her lap until her back leaned up against the couch, “When the baby gets older you can show them all your toys, play hide and go seek, read them stories just like your sisters do you and,”

“—and I can share my floaties when w-we go in the big ocean with daddy and my uncles!”, “—and you can share your floaties!” Giselle repeated, with a headnod while gushing at her son’s words.

Once the family calmed down from the news of a new addition, the couple sat on the floor as Chris shared his own excitement with his loved ones.

“Y’know despite all the gifts we’ve received today, my greatest gift is just being able to have y’all here and sharing the good news.” Chris smiled, while he caressed Giselle’s belly as she sat between his bent legs on the floor. “Every year you all either fly these long hours just to come to Australia or drive all the way down here to celebrate Christmas together.”

“—and we truly appreciate that.” Chris admitted, as he interlocked his fingers with Giselle as she turned back to smile at him. “We love everyone of you and we just want to wish y’all a Merry Christmas.”

Hearing the family echo back his words, Giselle gushed and leaned back into her husband’s warm arms as he continued to massage her little pudge.

They couldn’t wait for their bundle of joy arrival.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I hope everyone had a great Christmas! Let’s get this new year poppin’!

TAGLIST — @wakandas-vibranium @oceanscorazon @melaninmarvel @wakandamama @storibambino @shortstacks-blog @chaneajoyyy @klaylakayblack @ashanti-notthesinger @iamrheaspeaks @destinio1 @theunsweetenedtruth @wakanda-inspired @s0eul

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