#along w the snippet of for good i JUST LOSE IT

[wttcsms]

For the wip game.. atsumus “devil on my shoulder tellin' me i'll die soon” and OMG i laughed so hard when i read this but “losing all my innocence in the backseat” if you dont mind!!! (i also really wanna hear about your kaiser wips but ill lose my mind so ill skip that rn)

AHHH ok. listen, devil on my shoulder is a sequel to a really old atsumu fic; like so old, it was on my original blog LMAO. it's a yakuza au and the original fic itself was always porn with a splash of plot but the og post had some traction & now this sequel is majority plot haha. lots of world building and further insight on the relationship between reader + atsumu!!!! but also some yummy scenes, like when he gets done beating someone bc he's "interrogating" them and he does it downstairs when ur upstairs sleeping but the noise wakes you up and you catch him with bloody hands and you're all wide eyed and shocked and you're his sweet girl, you never flinch from his touch, but when he reaches out for you, you're backing away from him, like you're scared of him & so it's a lot of dealing with the aftermath of realizing that ur prince charming maybe isn't so charming after all 🤭

as for losing all my innocence in the backseat 😭😭😭 you're shidou's younger sister and i hc that shidou actually is a pretty good older brother and you're back from your first year of college and you're following shidou everywhere bc he's your best friend but then you find out he's been telling guys to back off of you bc ur his sister and he wants to look out for you and he's doing it to be protective and nice but you're like !!! im grown, leave me alone. and sae knows you bc you've hung out with them (well shidou was hanging out w the team + you just happened to tag along, before u got mad at him) so sae is trying to tell you to be nice to your older brother and that as an older sibling, he understands where shidou is coming from and that guys would take advantage if given the chance and then he demonstrates what he's talking abt (listen u kinda begged him to show u too) this was pwp with maybe a smidge of plot 😭😭 i can't even post a snippet bc it's so silly

[emphasisonthehomo]

So, buck's dick so good that makes Tommy an all star player?🤭🤣

Love that piece! As I am an amateur hockey fan, I really like this snippet!

Is there Christopher somewhere? Bc he is getting three dads for one.

Also, how do you think the buddietommy will get together ? Or there will be endless pining from the Eddie side?

How did buck and Tommy get together? Also, is Tommy trans in this one too?

The headlines about this relationship have the potential to be hilarious.

Post In Question

Lol, there is definitely more than just Buck's dick involved, so strap in because I'm gonna get into detail for how Tommy's last NHL season becomes his career best.

(And also answer your other questions.)

(Also also this got long.)

First I should mention why Tommy hasn't been an All Star before. It's a numbers game. The NHL selects far fewer goalies for the All Stars than they do other positions. Tommy's also never managed to be on a team that has really serious Stanley Cup contention (he's been in the playoffs quite a few times, his career has been a long one, but always out in first or second round) so he just... hasn't ever really been considered for it. He hasn't had that special combo of popularity + skill + winning team before.

The main factor in Tommy actually becoming an All Star Goaltender is, unfortunately, the rookie getting injured. Tommy's ancient and decrepit by NHL standards (38? 39? practically a crypt keeper) his knees and hips are garbage and everything hurts all the time. He's always been a Good Goalie, c'mon he does this professionally, but he hasn't been a starting goalie in a while. Just getting the opportunity to start, an opportunity he wouldn't have otherwise, is a huge leg up.

He didn't sign w/ the team (LA Kings?🤮) to be a starting goalie, and everyone knows it. Spittin' Chiclets has made comments along the lines of 'wow, Kinard is still playing?' He's there to be a reliable backup, to offer some quality mentorship to the rookie, and to have something to do in his last season before he announces retirement. But then the rookie gets injured way early in the season. I'm talking like game 4 or something. Tommy steps in and steps up. No one, least of all him, expects things to go where they do.

It's a dramatic mid game switch. They're on the road. Someone on the opposing team falls onto the rookie mid butterfly and the kid gets stretchered off. It's bad. So Tommy heads out to the net, it's his first time in goal for a game since the pre-season. He's nervous, of course he's nervous. But more than that he's determined.

Mentality contributes to any position, but it's got more of an influence on goal tending. Tommy's got nothing to lose at this point, but also crucial (for him anyway) nothing to win. In his head he's not going to be a starting goalie again, the team probably won't be a serious contender for The Cup. All he has to do is play and play well. He's gotta make sure that when the rookie does return from IR, it's not to a metaphorical dumpster fire.

Now Tommy's been playing professionally/semi-professionally for a long time. Almost 20 years. He's been in goal since he was a kid. This is what he does, this is what he's good at. His career has had some ups and downs, but he's older now. He likes to think he's wiser. This is his last season, he made that decision months ago. He wants to end his career with dignity. Going out with a bang isn't on his mind, but he knows he doesn't want to go out with a whimper.

And then he fucking shuts the door.

He shuts the fucking door, and because of that they manage to come up from a 0-2 deficit to win 3-2. As the buzzer sounds both Buck and Eddie are right there, slamming into him for the triumphant post win hug. It's not a shutout, not technically. But it's a shutout for him, and he's pretty damn happy with it.

The next game though. The next game another (even younger) kid is brought up from the feeder team as backup. Tommy gets a proper shutout, and that's when coaching starts to think seriously about how they want to do things. Tommy winds up starting in goal for the rest of the road trip. And then after the team gets home and it becomes clear that their injured rookie will be out for months, Tommy gets the green light to start in general.

It's an opportunity he never thought he'd have again, and because of that Tommy fucking locks in. Spittin' Chiclets is stunned and in awe. What are the odds? He's playing good hockey in a way he hasn't since he was 32. Unlike the last time he was on fire like this, their team is also humming along. And unlike last time there's a story. The NHL loves a story. Veteran goaltender playing some of his best hockey in what everyone assumed would be his last year is a good story.

And it's also because of that, because it's his last season and he's decided to fucking go for it, Tommy decides to also do something monumentally stupid and kiss a teammate. He's spent his entire career in the closet. When he was a rookie he wouldn't even look at other men during the season, much less hookup. As he got older he did slowly come out of his shell, but he was still very careful about it.

One night in November Evan Buckley is gushing about the (frankly insane) scorpion save Tommy managed in the second period. And Tommy's looking at him and thinking "huh" before stepping in close. Evan's gaze snaps down to Tommy's mouth like it's been magnetized, and Tommy decides "fuck it" and goes for the kiss. That kiss leads to a lot more than just kissing.

And so Tommy winds up with career high statistics in his last season. He's confident in himself in a way he never has been before, settled in a way he never thought he would be, and he's deliriously happy with his secret boyfriend. Completely ignorant of the fact that his friend Eddie Diaz is spiraling because of said secret boyfriend.

He gets selected for All Stars for the first time, and is flummoxed because he'd made plans to go be on a beach somewhere like he does every year, and now he has to cancel that.

AS FOR CHRISTOPHER!

Yes, he's around. Eddie is almost neurotic in his attempts to keep Chris out of the media. The team PR kind of hates it, because "NHL Player with Special Needs Son" is frankly clickbait catnip. But they also can't force Eddie to do anything, and Eddie has made it clear he'll put his foot down about it. Eddie's marriage imploded dramatically in the news, and Shannon is MIA (but alive, because I said so) and he's got full custody. The only time Chris is ever on camera is when there's a family skate for a fucking Winter Classic or something, and he's in the background with Buck and Eddie helping him stay vertical on the ice.

There is quite a bit of pining on Eddie's part. He loves Buck. Buck has been his best friend (and sometimes lover) for years. He likes Tommy a lot too. Their friendship took off like a rocket, and Eddie's already at the point where he can't imagine Tommy not being in his house with him and Buck. Tommy grills a mean steak. Tommy is terrible at video games and will good naturedly let Eddie, Chris, and Buck destroy him at Mario Cart over and over again.

It hurts like pressing a bruise. Buck and Tommy are clearly so happy together. Eddie can't stop thinking about it. He wonders why this is different. Why Buck decided to go for something serious with Tommy instead of Eddie, when Eddie's been here the whole time. Simultaneously, Eddie wonders what Tommy saw in Buck that he didn't see in Eddie. It seems like when they hang out, it's always the three of them. He has very complicated feelings about the fact that he wants to kiss them both.

At the same time, this all feels secondary to what's happening on ice. During the pre-season all of the talking heads spoke about their team like they'd probably maybe be playoff hopefuls next season. Now everyone is abuzz because they've got a Very Good Chance of being playoff hopefuls now. Eddie doesn't have time for a crisis, because there's hockey to be played.

Because this is a fic, they get together after winning The Stanley Cup. Of course.

Tommy's not in net for all of the playoffs (his knees hurt so bad) but he's in net for A Lot of it. He's in net when the buzzer sounds on game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals. They've squeaked a win 4-3. It was down to the wire. Buck slams into him as soon as the clock winds down to zero, and Tommy sobs openly into the stinky sweaty fabric of Buck's jersey. Eddie is right there, pressing a cartoonish and smacking kiss to the top of Tommy's helmet.

In the champagne fueled blur of a celebration, they all wind up falling into bed together. It's basically all frotting, they're too drunk for anything more coordinated. And then have the most awkward discussion the next morning when they're a combination of brutally hungover (Tommy) still drunk from the night before (Eddie) and somehow??? sobered up??? (Buck)

You should assume Tommy is trans in everything I write. My little lizard brain wants Tommy to also be trans for this, because that's just how my mind works. The logistics of it are complicated. Either this is an au where the NHL is way cooler with stuff than they are IRL, or Tommy has just been closeted the whole time, which is practically impossible. Either way this is a tangled mess of masculinity and sexuality and gender. Delicious.

Anyways. Tommy announces his retirement with a picture of him holding the cup. And then goes to Eddie's house to kiss his boyfriends hello and help Buck make a lasagna, while Eddie works with Chris on his homework.

I think if they were to come out as a cute little throuple, it would happen after all three of them retire.

[colormepurplex2]

WIP Tag Game

rules: post 3 snippets from published work, and 3 from your wips Thanks @star-my for the tag! I'm looking at you @downbad4yoongi @mrsparkjimin18 @btsgotjams27 and whoever else wants to play! No pressure, just for fun! (If you don't have 3 fics or 3 wips that's ok! Just post whatever!)

Published:

On Wings of Mist & Memories

The golden pin falls from your limp fingers, landing with a soft thud on the ground between your feet. It’s hard to tell whether it’s sweat or tears coating your face. You swipe the back of a trembling hand over your eyes.

“W-why haven’t you...why haven’t you sought out a Psion before th-this?” Your voice warbles, and you have to swallow hard a few times to keep from losing the food you just ate.

It all feels too raw, far too real. You’ve never experienced something so visceral when reading an object. Your body aches. Your cheek burns, even though there is no cut there. There’s a fiery line that feels branded across your stomach. It’s like everything from that day is imprinting itself upon your body with phantom pains.

“Psions are rare. It’s not like I could have requested one from the capital. You’re part of a coveted kind, precious and protected. Had it not been for—“ he pauses, not needing to remind you how you came to be in this encampment. “The important part is you’re here now, and you’ve seen the truth.” Your bleary eyes slide up from where they were gazing at the pin on the ground to land on him. He tugs the bottom of his shirt out from where it’s tucked into the tops of his breeches and then pushes it up to expose his stomach. A long, puckered scar slashes his otherwise pristine skin. “His lightning strike nearly killed me. All because I found out the truth.”

Lights, Camera, Action

Jungkook waves a hand dismissively. “We’ve been friends nearly our whole lives, I’ve seen him far worse than he was tonight. He’s just a bit stressed about work and this new relationship he’s in with one of our other friends. They’re great together but sometimes Jimin gets in his head about dating a childhood friend, worried about messing up the friendship and all that.”

Namjoon hums in understanding. “That can be pretty tricky. New relationships can be like that, even if you’ve known the person for a long time beforehand.” There is a slight nervousness in the way Namjoon speaks, leading Jungkook to take his words with a dual purpose.

“Yeah, tricky,” he agrees, slowly, watching the way Namjoon fumbles to get the door to the upstairs loft open. It’s cute and puts Jungkook at ease, his worry over catching feelings diminishing by the minute. Feelings don’t seem so bad when he really thinks about it. It’s actually pretty nice.

“Hi!” Your smiling face is the first thing Jungkook sees when he steps through the door into your living room. He doesn’t have time to form a thought in response before you fling your arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “Is it weird to say I’ve missed you even though you were here less than twenty-four hours ago?” you ask, your words muffled against his neck.

His arms band tightly around you, soaking up the warmth from your barely covered body. The smooth silk of your tiny nightgown feels good under his hands. Jungkook pinches the fabric just above your ass, rubbing it between his fingers. “Not weird at all,” he finally responds, planting a kiss on your temple.

“Would you like a drink or anything?” Namjoon asks from the kitchen where he’s grabbing a bottle of water for himself.

Jungkook pulls back slightly, running his nose along your jaw and nipping your bottom lip gently. “I’m thirsty, but not for a drink,” his words are for Namjoon but his eyes are focused on you. Finally, he looks over his shoulder at the other man. “Any idea what can help sate my need?”

You watch as Namjoon rolls back his shoulders, chest puffing out slightly. His eyes become calculated and his lips purse before he nods. “I think I might have what you need. But, you have to promise to be on your best behavior. Only good boys get what they want.” Jungkook’s posture stiffens against you momentarily. Then, like he’s been doused in warm water, he relaxes and pulls you closer. Keeping his eyes trained on Namjoon, he leans in and finds your lips with his. It’s an all-consuming kiss, lanced with fire and ice alike. You hear Namjoon chuckle darkly. “And bad boys get punished.”

Till Death Do Us Part

You’d never given much thought to the meaning behind the adage ‘time heals all wounds’, but you think you understand it a bit more now. With time, feelings of sadness and hurt fade. They go away, you eventually move on and feel lighter. It can be both literal and figurative, you suppose.

It’s been a few months now and your body is healed. Healed, but not quite like it used to be. The scars under your shirt are a constant reminder. They’re a road map of smooth ripples and abraded grooves. At first, you hated them, thought they were ugly. Though, as the weeks have drifted by, you’ve grown to love them. Not for the reminder of where they came from, but because they remind you of him. Yoongi. His own scars are not so dissimilar to the ones you now have. It’s weird to feel a sense of gratitude toward the other one. The one who gave you these scars. But, without him, you wouldn’t be where you are now.

The one place you’re finding it hard to decide if that adage holds true is in the figurative way. Are you over the emotional pain? Not yet. It might be too soon to tell, in any case. One day at a time, another adage you’ve tucked away into your now swelling arsenal of trying to heal.

A feather-light kiss presses to your bare shoulder. That helps, too. That always helps.

“You okay?” The voice is a husky, sleep-ladened grumble. “It’s two in the morning, you should be sleeping.”

“Just needed some air,” you respond in kind, turning to look up at him. Standing before you on the balcony of your bedroom, the moonlight catching in his black hair, reflects in his warm eyes. A salty ocean breeze ruffles the strands across his forehead, revealing the scar cut through his eyebrow. It’s hard not to track your eyes over the expanse of his bare chest, your eyes lingering on the scars you put there. They are three little puckered circles, slightly angrier looking than all the others. Though, maybe that’s just your own guilt coloring them. It’s hard to shoot a man, even harder to shoot one you love. But, that’s what you did—what you had to do.

WIPs:

Smoke & Mirrors

ERROR 875 USER 4GU57D NOT FOUND

“Dammit. Where the fuck are you, Yoongi?” Jungkook shoves the computer mouse away in frustration, the blinking error mocking him on the screen. Yanking the power cord from the wall, he severs the modem’s connection. He only uses this computer every few weeks, logging into the program Yoongi set up years ago for him and Jungkook to use. Yoongi told him if things ever went to shit, he could use this program to contact him, regardless of where he was and what he was doing. It was provided with a promise always to try to be there for his little brother. A promise that Yoongi seems to be shirking on now.

It’s been close to eleven months since his brother disappeared. Almost a year of Jungkook trying to contact Yoongi. There are too many unknown factors. No one knows where Yoongi and his wife escaped to or if the two of them are even still alive. Jungkook is trying not to dwell on that possibility. He has enough on his plate in the wake of Yoongi’s absence and Namjoon’s death. He glances at his watch. Speaking of, he’s running late for his date with MiSun.

He knows that date is a loose term, but it seems fitting considering. MiSun works in the kitchen of The Hitman’s estate. She’s been on staff for a few years now, and Jungkook has always found himself smitten with her. He dreams about her smile and the twinkle in her eyes when he slips into the kitchen to dig around for snacks. They laugh together as the head cook, Haewon, shoos him out of the kitchen with a flurry of flapping dish towels and curses.

She’s pretty and gives him a much-needed distraction after coming back from an assignment. The first time he lost himself to her was after a particularly nasty stint in Mexico. He came home spitting fire and seething, intent on drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey. But his father had locked up the liquor cabinet, and Jungkook didn’t want to bother with breaking it open and incurring his father’s wrath. So, he went in search of the wine he knew Haewon kept in the kitchen for cooking. He didn’t care if it didn’t taste great. He just needed to take the edge off.

MiSun had been in the kitchen late, cleaning up after a dinner that required far more dishes than any meal had a right to. Jungkook barreled into the kitchen, nearly causing MiSun to climb into the sink with terror. She had screamed, thrashing so hard with her arms elbow-deep in the sudsy basin that she’d soaked herself to the waist. Jungkook can remember how her black bra stood out so starkly under her drenched, white blouse. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop himself from getting lost in something far sweeter than any wine that might be in the cabinet.

In Memory of Him

The cemetery typically closes at sundown, but Taehyung has access as the gardener. When he and Yejun took over Taehyung’s parents' floral shop, they expanded the business to include landscaping for local businesses and establishments. The cemetery is one such establishment they took on. He produces a key from his pocket, unlocking the small pedestrian gate that must have been locked up not too long ago, judging by the sun barely having dipped below the horizon.

“Moojin left about ten minutes before you pulled up,” Taehyung explains casually, confirming the thought you just had. “It’ll just be us so we can take as much time as we need.”

Maybe you should feel bad that Taehyung gives you preferential treatment and access to the cemetery after hours, but it’s hard to care about that when other, darker, feelings have you clutched so tightly. The walk to the columbarium is relatively short, being one of the newer buildings erected within the grounds, just some twenty years ago or so.

“The trees are doing well, even in the winter,” you note, nodding toward the row of young pines along the fenceline. It was one of the last projects Yejun worked on with Taehyung before he became ill.

“He’d be able to tell you all the properties of the tree that make it sustainable during this time of the year,” Taehyung responds, his voice carrying notes of sadness. Yejun doesn’t come up much in conversation between the two of you, most things not needing to be said, merely understood without a spoken word. So, it’s surprising and endearing to actually hear Taehyung talk about him, especially now.

You smile, knowing he’s right. “With enough scientific jargon to make you go cross-eyed trying to keep up, too.”

That earns you a soft laugh from Taehyung. “And he wouldn’t even realize it until you’re so lost you can’t even pretend to have understood.”

“I miss that,” you whisper with a sigh, your warm breath misting lightly in the cold.

Taehyung slips his arm through yours, hooking his elbow around the crook of your arm. “Me, too.”

Knuckle Deep

The door opens, revealing the man inside seated at the small conference table. The fluorescent lighting overhead must be faulty because it’s definitely making this man seem far more attractive than anyone has a right to be. His black hair shines like silk, dark eyes like endless pools of rich chocolate, and his body…well, even from where you’re standing across the room you can tell it’s nice just by the way his clothes fit.

This is definitely a man who knows luxury brands, so it’s fitting he would choose to come into your boutique. His suit is a dark gray with deep red pinstripes, the forward lapels the same deep red. He’s wearing a black turtleneck underneath his jacket, the double buttons in the front undone but you take note of the LV logo embossed on them.

He stands as you enter the room, his hands clasped in front of him. “Thank you for meeting with me,” he states, bowing at the waist. His voice is smooth and sweet like honey.

You bow in return, “Yes, of course. Thank you for choosing my shop,” you glance down at the appointment paper on top of your sketch pad, “Park Jimin. I was told you have an emergency request, how can I help?” You gesture with your free hand to the table for him to resume his seat, the door swinging shut as you move into the room. “Would you like a bottle of water or a seltzer?” you ask, nodding toward the well-stocked minifridge off to one side.

“No, thank you, I’m fine.”

You smile politely, taking a seat across from him and setting your things on the table.

“My name is—”

“I know who you are,” he interrupts you with a smirk. He casually places his hands on the oak tabletop, your eyes are drawn to the multiple rings adorning his slender fingers, rings that you recognize. “As you can see, I’ve been a collector of yours for quite some time. You produce exquisite work.”

His praise makes up for the rudeness of interrupting you. You don’t mind a little ego-stroking, in fact, you thrive off of it. “They look good on you,” you remark, a pleasant smile spreading across your face. He’s wearing some of the most expensive pieces you’ve ever made. The double-banded rhodium ring encrusted with chips of moonstone and onyx is one of your favorites. It sits prettily just below the second joint of his index finger, right next to the thick band of roped silver adorning his middle one. You tear your eyes away from his hands, away from the rounded knuckles that hold your work so well. “What is it that you’re looking to add to your collection?” you ask, flipping open your sketchbook and pulling a pencil from the pouch.

Smoke & Mirrors and In Memory of Him are both relatively new but Knuckle Deep is going on 2 yrs sitting in my WIPs...oops 😭

[daydream-comet]

Absolutely agree on grev ruining her purpose. Most of the time she felt obsolete and made fun of, esp the cooking part like where did that come from? She had enough knowledge about cooking in that one barbeque ep in v force and was giving everyone instructions on what to do. And like being a person who likes cooking a lot, I can tell by her mannerisms that she indeed DOES know how to cook (okay, let me stop here, or else I might go on a rant about cooking xD).

And yess she definitely deserved a backstory. Like vforce starts with having already established that hiromi, kyoju and takao are classmates and hiromi being the strict and studious class president, so timeline wise it might make sense that takao and hiromi were also childhood friends (kinda like how valt and shu are in beyburst) and we know that before s1 takao didnt have any close friends except people who he had battles with (like Akira etc.) so like there's a missed opportunity right there. And like we could get to know more about her interests like in the fortune-telling books too, what got her into it? Why does a practical-minded person like her has a thing for the supernatural/paranormal? It makes her more human and realistic in a way.

And yes she DID deserve a beyblading arc, like what traits of a blader does she doesn't have? And despite the fact that her views on beyblading were initially not pleasant, though still justified, she was humble enough to see it from the boys' point of view and even learn about it, and lets not forget her regime was the one that helped the team master the magnacore system. (And her advice is a good one from an academic point of view as well, if you don't know the basics well enough cough maths cough you can't progress further and will fumble in the long run. Like I did once :P). And she definetly helped takao with his patience problem. Mentioning the barbeque ep once again, she knew everyone was a bit tensed at that time (I mean who wouldn't be, they saw someone die) and she knew a bit of relaxation was needed. She made all cook together, and she knew food would calm them down, esp takao who LOVES food. And guess what she was right and we later see takao, max and rei apologise to each other.

And yea the dynamic was wayy better in v force than in grev (can I just say grev ruined rei and takao's friendship? Like from that teary-eyed handholding passing-the-torch scene in the s1 finale to that is just....meh) and dare I say that Zeo was a well written character, like their mentor-student/idol-admirer dynamic was fun to watch (also I wish we got mentor arcs in bsb like we got in beyburst, like there are snippets here and there but it'd be so cool and if someone like Hitoshi can be a coach then why can't they, Max would be a great coach along w Takao) and like a part of you like feels the string takao felt when Zeo abruptly left and then his sudden heel-turn and revelation. And Takao treating Daichi like his little brother was a far better dynamic than what we got in grev (I got why Takao acted the way he did, but still. that and grev never mentions daichi's backstory. Like if the movie is non-canon at least mention it in the canon one??? I do like grev but damn it has got a lot of flaws too). I think it also has to deal with the age differences w Takao being 14 in the movie and 15-16 ish in grev. Like its obvious that he'd see daichi as an annoying kid in grev while in the movie he's treating him more of like a young friend and being like "wow you dress like mogli" and basically teasing in a sibling-banter manner. Also I think the reason Takao sympathized with daichi is because he gets the pain and grief of losing a parent and having to fend for yourself on your own while trying to reach the top, hence why later on he is a lot more openly affectionate towards him and was the most concerned about saving him. (Also I find it both cute and funny that after daichi fainted from takao's spook at the cemetery takao dragged him back to their place instead of going back to the festival while at the same time being like "why me???")

And yes daichi was so much more well written in the movie. Like sure he wanted to beat takao and was on a goose chase but it wasn't exactly an obsession either. Like after takao brought him back he still stuck to them like a leech but wasn't really 'ruining their vacation' and instead joined them lol, eating food w them and joining them in the beach and thirdwheeling tyhil in the boat and basically being all like "oh alright you arent fighting me now lets fight later, meanwhile I'm gonna hitchhike a ride with you and won't stop haunting your very existence untill you do so. Now, where the food?" (I'd argue the movie should've been the canon start to s3. Oh, and that cave scene. I. HAVE. A. LOT. TO. TALK. ABOUT. THAT. CAVE. SCENE.)

Vforce deserves a lot lot more love than it gets, and its not fair calling it the worst season only for the lack of a proper world tournament while ignoring its hidden gems. Sure it has flaws, but you can see the effort put behind it and be like "yea atleast they tried, maybe something went wrong but atleast there was an attempt". And Hiromi was an amazingly well written character despite being an anime-only exclusive. And I definitely like the saint shields + Kane and Salima in the anime than in the manga.

Wow I've been talking for a while now 😅 sorry I'll stop here xD.

V-force Hiromi thank you for being the icon ever, being chaotic and silly (esp that punch like yas gurl throw hands!! <3) like the others while being the mom friend of the group and doing an actual good job at consoling Takao/keeping him in line while being mature about his feelings too, being a therapist to Kai and many more moments. She's basically the emotional stability the gang lacked previously. And lets not forget the boat scene in the movie when Daichi was telling Hiromi about how his dad died and why he was hell bent on beating Takao, her response was that of understanding as she got where Daichi was coming from as a kid who was trying to fullfill his father's last wish, that was very sweet of her ngl (Takao's response to Daichi's revelation was sweet too, in his own way. I might make another post on that. Personally I prefer their dynamic in the movie than in G-revolution tbh. Also the idea if the team randomly adopting a tiny homeless redheaded gremlin is wayy funnier, like "oh, he's not gonna leave us be, and he doesnt have a home to go back to, guess he's staying with us now huh. Welcome to the gang bud" *daichi proceeds to latch onto them like a leech*)

[witchypandamonium]

A Knight’s Honor

A collection of Luis/Reader snippets

This is for you, fellow Luis simps! I have trouble sometimes writing longform fanfics, so this story I’ll be writing mostly in snippets; a highlights-form story.

This chapter: the mine. The spot where the plot diverges in the most important point--Luis’s survival.

Chapter 1 of ? Occurs during Chapter 11 of game 2,711 words, SFW No warnings Tags: Luis x g!nReader | AU | Luis lives

ao3

The chilled wind brought with it the familiar stench of low tide, but after the stifling, humid heat of caverns dripping with sulfur and foul black ichor, it was sweet relief. One hand on Keith’s camera, you scanned the storage abutting the elevator shaft before you for any crucial evidence to shoot, but found only crumbling medieval architecture and sea salt-rusted industrial steel in an ugly contrast that reflected Ramón’s neglect of all but what served his master’s nefarious purpose. You could hear Luis chatting lightheartedly behind you, and were about to turn to retort when a flash of movement caught your eye, followed by a flash of light reflecting against polished metal.

You don’t know why you did what you did—your body moved on its own, lunging to reach a hand between the Spaniard and the shining object flying toward him. A burst of pain ripped a scream from your lips as you saw a wicked combat knife spear your left hand, pinning it to Luis, who lurched and stiffened with a choked grunt as the blade embedded itself in his back.

But before you could even fully gauge your situation, there came the heavy thud of something—no, someone—landing on the platform just to your right. A hulking brute of a man, he wrenched the knife from the two of you, his other hand whipping around to deliver a powerful backhand to the side of your head, flinging you through the air to collide with a crate yards away. Head spinning, ears ringing, you fought to stay conscious, rolling from your side onto your stomach like fighting to move through a sea of tar. Through your swimming vision, you searched for Luis, just making out the ex-Umbrella researcher falling limply to his knees, then to the floor.

“Retrieving stolen goods…” a cruel voice hissed distantly in your ears as the man, some sort of soldier (well, most likely former soldier), fetched something from Luis’s pocket. The Spaniard didn’t move.

Luis…

“…and killing a few rats along the way…”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, drowning out the sounds of battle—you were vaguely aware of Leon fighting a dire knife duel against this man he seemed to know somehow—as the world shrank down to the body of the man but a few paces from you. …Please, Luis… Your hand reached to help drag yourself toward him, pain lancing up your arm through the fog, the full weight of your own wound only now dawning on you. Still, it was nothing compared to the pain of potentially losing Luis, and you carve a bloody path across the diamond plate steel platform as you inched your way to his side, shaking his shoulder weakly with your still-functioning right hand.

He was still warm—you could make out that much as your head slowly cleared. The sight of his back rising and falling, even as slight as it was, granted a moment of relief. The wound was still grave, but potentially survivable, giving you at least enough time to address the last member of your squad’s safety. If Leon didn’t manage to fend this man off, it wasn’t likely either of you would last much longer.

You finally understood why the agent had explained that knives were better for close-quarters combat—you could barely keep up with the two ex-soldiers’ movement, nor fathom how they managed to think so fast on their feet. Still, Leon seemed a bit on the backfoot, his opponent having some sort of mysterious supernatural advantage. Was he also working with Saddler; infected with the parasites? He just wasn’t tiring, leaping away into the shadows just to pounce again moments later. If you didn’t do something and quick, Leon ‘s luck was going to run out.

Your Sig P320 was still safe and secure in its holster on your hip, but their fight had drawn them rather far from you, and the small handgun wasn’t as powerful at extreme range. Luis had stuffed his Red 9 into the waistband of his trousers as they reached the elevator out of the amber mines, and you muttered a soft apology as you manhandled him slightly to retrieve it. Unused to the extra weight and still woozy from the blow to the head, you couldn’t stop your hand from shaking. Without thinking you brought your left hand up to steady it, earning yourself a blinding pain that almost had you dropping the gun as your fingers spasmed.

Meters away, you saw the hulking soldier land a powerful kick square on Leon’s chest, slamming him hard enough against a box to have him reeling.

Leon! Fuck, I can’t… Your hand just wouldn’t stop trembling.

He then raised his massive combat knife for a kill-strike.

Keep reading

[sukunasun]

I read your "how the jjk men would give it to you" post you made and.... like... surprise dick w stressed nanami sounds *chefs kiss* amazing. I was wondering if you had more thoughts about it bc i havent known peace ever since i read that hc/snippet

i was wondering which piece you were referring to only to realize you meant THAT post....

despite the dark circles and a scowl keeping his face in an ever-constant state of agitation, he’s a picture worth a million dollars, in tight-fitted suits that pinch at the waist, the back of his hand dusting over broad shoulders, poised, prim, lapels ironed flat over a wide chest. built and beautiful and so prudish is he. what is it about nanami the salaryman. his life made up of decimal points going up and down, a strand of hair he finds randomly on his shoulder, and the long, long, hours that build up overtime, a culmination of disappointments and tension unlike any other. forcing him closer to that edge, losing all control.

maybe it's the way his face is lit by a computer screen, by fluorescent lights, looking sickly and tense. he leans back in his chair every 30 minutes and the heavy sighs he lets out, the deep groans, guttural and frustrated sound so pornographic you think he's doing it on purpose. your friends tell you it's the clark kent effect, everyone's into the hot nerdy types, the quiet ones who hide that wild, primal side of themselves. but he is no superman, in fact, he's the complete opposite, he hides nothing and he hones no powers. he's just a man in need of a splurge or something, the desperation written all over his face.

who says things like "make me copies, reschedule my meeting, this coffee is atrocious make sure you use the french press like i taught you" do this, do that, barking orders at you all day without so much as a thank you. well, it’s less bark and more bite really. he's so cutting it's like he could say anything to you just so he gets to sneak in some kind of backhanded comment, unsolicited and uncalled for, an inkling inside you warning you of its hidden meaning.

if he were anything like his coworkers, he could just visit the strip club, pick up a girl on a dating app, find some stranger at a club, a quick fuck, a one night stand. but nanami wouldn’t dare. it's such a shame that he doesn't know how to fuck, wouldn't be able to the way he seems so tightly wound and uptight—mr. 'i'm better than you because i make so much money and i am good at my job'.

not to mention it wouldn't work either because he needs something more, something along the lines of your pretty mouth wrapped around him, taking him all the way inside, choking on it. you'd make him last as long as possible, make him shake and tremble with his hands gripping your hair tight, fisting, tugging hard and he'd keep you there, releasing down your throat. it’s what he wishes for when he stands in a bathroom stall jerking himself off for the fourth time that day and god help him because it’s now a routine, just for the sake of release, mechanical and so quick he doesn't get to savour it. even when he does reach his peak—cum painting his fingers, hot and sticky and so incredibly disgusting when the adrenaline wears off, heartbeat slowing, lips swollen and bruised clamped down between his teeth, his body doused in all that shame—it's not enough.

later in the day he gets off the phone with a client who's been bugging him about buying, selling, about shares, investments, the money's not real and on paper they're making a fortune but nanami knows he's going home with most of it. his patience along with the desire to keep his job is wearing thin. seen with the way a vein bulges over his temples, jaw clenching, his tie comes undone then, tugs at it until it hangs loose. starts to crave a cigarette by the lounge, away from prying eyes, but it's not needed when he looks up and sees you by your desk. “he’s just this guy at the office, you know, the kind that has a stick up their ass and takes themselves too seriously,” he overhears you say on the phone—it’s offensive of course, because you say it with such contempt like he wasn't capable of bending you over a desk, over a leather couch, making you muffle your screams in a supply closet as he fucks you silly. he wants to scoff, you should have been keeping those things to yourself, let alone talking about him out in the open. 

at this rate, he could just pull some strings and let you lose your job but he decides otherwise, walking over to where you are, nanami raises an eyebrow when he stands over your desk. "menial tasks requires less brain power so this falls right within your purview doesn't it, what are you, an errand girl?" he usually speaks in a monotone voice. this time however, it's like he believes himself superior. smug and snobbish.

“i graduated top of my class," you reply with indignation. who does he think he is, was this some weird power trip? he’s always been so quiet, so composed and collected. “and it’s sexist to imply that i merely run errands,” you spit back. if it weren’t for you, he’d be fucked. who organizes his schedule and replies his emails when he could just do it himself. 

immediately, he says “i made the assumption based off your incompetence, not because you are a woman.” then glances at you with his nose upturned. cringing at your gaping mouth, at your shocked expression. “stop staring, you're getting drool all over company property," he plops a few stacks of papers by the edge of your desk and without thinking about the implications of it, pushes them towards you with his pelvis. a lazy thrust of his hips and you look up then, expecting to see a sly expression, just like every other man who work on top floors and smoke cigars in penthouse view board rooms but his face is hesitant, like he's holding back something, "get this sorted, and don't make a mess of it." he instructs, before walking away, striding towards the men's bathroom for...whatever reason, you didn’t know, but he's always disheveled and doused in cologne afterwards.

geto and gojo suggest he meets the daughter of one of their clients but nanami suspects it's just another one of their schemes. “she’s a babe, would be down to fuck on a first date,” gojo doesn’t care that he’s being loud and obnoxious because he has more money than anyone will ever make in their lifetime while geto slaps an envelope against nanami's chest, “here, go buy her something pretty, it might help us convince her dad to invest,” geto says from behind him. he peeks through the opening and finds crisp bills stuffed into it, bursting at the seams.

the woman in question looks more like a doll, she smells like vanilla and her full lips purse when she whispers, "i like you," straddling him and leaving soft little smooches against his neck. it sounds made up because she barely knows him. he looks down at her spread legs and wonders what they'd look like in stockings, the kind you wear, in a pencil skirt and a blouse buttoned all the way to the top. her wavy extensions don't do anything for him, where's the updo, where are the hairpins tucked behind the ear. he doesn't want to hear her praises or her exaggerated moans, she's definitely a professional, a respectable one at that because she does it well but he wants a woman who's careless with her work, who looks down on him, he wants an errand girl—

"don't speak, you’ll ruin it,” nanami groans, and in a hotel room behind closed doors, she does as she’s told. he makes her face the other way so he doesn't have to see her, hear her, he could just deal with the weird, nauseating mix of being unsatisfied later on, feeling guilty when he knows he's using someone else, she's merely an object now, he doesn't care about her or whether she likes him and it's so infuriating that he wishes to prove you wrong because he's made to press up behind you, feel his heart beating beneath the skin, racing and pounding. proof that he has one, that he's made for more than just sitting behind a desk.

so he'll compromise tonight, all until he leaves her in an empty bed the next morning, rushing off to work with geto’s money left on the bedside table.

he's even more of a pain in the ass that morning, breathing down your neck and making sure you're left with double the amount of usual things he makws you do. but also he keeps a distance, going as far as flinching away every time you so much as tap him on the shoulder. this man is on edge, like he's about to implode. "what's your deal, haven't you ever felt the touch of a woman?" you tease, just for fun, even when you know he wouldn't laugh. and he doesn't really, but instead finds himself fucking you against the wall of his office.

skirt bunched up around your middle, he rips into your stockings with his hands, ripping it and pushing your panties to the side, "i'll buy you another more so stop whining," then tells you to leave the heels on and you do. even when he holds you up in his hands, legs propped up on his shoulders, you try to keep them from slipping off. in the reflection of a mirror, you watch his muscled back flex, the walls thudding, and those heels start dangling over your toes from the sheer force, each one of his thrusts, hard and fast and deep, keeps pushing you over the edge.

the first time you come all over him, it makes you tremble and shake, the newfound revelation that he's actually so skilled is one thing but nanami kisses your neck, gently coaxing you through your release. when he moves you to a couch, he sets you atop him, legs spread wide and thighs held firmly in his hands. he adjusts himself behind you and before you could whine from just how sensitive you feel, he pushes himself back inside, stretched and full and so hot. making sure that over your shoulder, he could watch you in that same mirror, and that you'd see him too. you'd see just who exactly makes you feel this way.

and by the time he fucks you by the window, you whimper when you look out then, clear blue sky and bright sunlight, it's a beautiful day out and the street below are bustling with cars and people who are looking to make memories. some colleagues are out for lunch and others are having some fresh air, a seemly normal day, and your heart pounds, fear and excitement creeping up because anyone could see, turn their heads up to catch the view of a woman with her knees tucked to the sides of her head, squirming and bucking as her boss fucks up into her. "i'm starting to think you like this," he taunts when your moans ring out, and it's true because you were running your mouth, making a scene, you believed him to be incapable and inexperienced but now you can't think of any other man who's made you feel the way he does. nanami doesn't care one bit about the exposure, abut public indecency or whatever the fuck they'll say about him, let them see how he makes you come apart, making your mind go numb.

"you did this to me," he snarls into the crook of your neck, how often had pictured this moment and now that it's real, his cock buried inside you, the moans you let out sounding better than anything he could have imagined, and the look on your pretty face while you're succumbing to him, this snappy little thing now submitting herself. "let me know if it's too much okay?" he whispers, biting down on your neck, pounding inside you, feeling your juices run down til it drips all over the carpet floors. he'd make you call someone to get it cleaned, and he'd stress about getting it done on time so no one would suspect a thing but he'd also go back to being a pain in the ass, or maybe he'd start being a little sweet, a little kinder, gentle and tender...until he isn't.

[urtheloml]

heartbreak boy

pairing: miya atsumu x reader w/c: 8k synopsis: miya atsumu— your personal heartbreak boy. being in love with your best friend is tiring but maybe a school concert will help. a/n: happy new year! i hope everyone has a great 2022. this fic means a lot to me because Atsumu is just so <33 also, this is a songfic (ish??) based of Heartbreak Girl by 5SOS. BUT DON'T WORRY IT'S FLUFFY N THERE'S A HAPPY ENDING!

Miya Atsumu is a beast—at least, on court he is. He’s intense and analytical, he’s focused and dedicated to playing his best. He’s committed to being the best that he can. Miya Atsumu never slacks off when it comes to volleyball, he’s powerful and a try-hard, he’s simply one of the finest players out there.

Off court though, he’s none of those things.

Okay, more like, he’s very much lesser of those qualities. It’s not like he’s failing his classes or anything like that. It’s just that, well, he’s an idiot. That’s the bottom line. He’s an oblivious, whiny, borderline obnoxious little brat, honestly.

You’ve been his best friend since the first day of high school, hell, maybe even before that. You went to the same middle school and even then, the two of you were somewhat friends. In your first year of high school, you and the twins were grouped together for some class project and from there it was history.

Thinking about it now, you can’t seem to recall a moment in the past three years where Miya Atsumu wasn’t there. On the way to class? He was there, running past you and tousling your hair, and you’d scream hey! and he'd scream back. Walking out the gates? He was there, and he’d walk you home despite your protests. During lunch? On the weekends and even holidays? He was there, there, there! If he wasn’t physically next to you, he’d be blowing up your phone.

When he starts becoming such a constant in your life, it was hard to pretend that you weren’t so wholly and irrevocably head over heels for him. How could you not be? He was one of your best friends, though you’d never tell him that, his ego is big enough thank you very much.

You’ve seen him at his worst, when he was sobbing into your couch after losing a volleyball match or whenever he fought with Osamu and he’d tearfully tell you what happened on your doorstep even though it was close to midnight. Because Miya Atsumu may fight a lot with his twin but at the end of the day, he feels it the most whenever they don’t get along.

But, you’ve seen him at his best too. When he’d score the winning point in a game and he’d beam at you. When he does particularly well on a class test, he turns to you expecting a high-five. When he and Osamu manage a new move, he would run up to you, smiling like a puppy, saying did you see that? Did you see that! (you’re always watching, he should know that.)

It goes both ways too.

He's seen you at your worst. When you cried snottily over films and failed tests, he'd let you bury your face into his thigh and he'd watch the dumbest shows with you, because he knows you like them and for you he'd do anything. He's seen you at your best as well— when you wore an outfit that made you feel good and when you were laughing so hard you almost threw up.

You've traded so many little snippets of your lives without even knowing it.

So of course, it was inevitable for you to start falling for him.

Three years is a long time to be in love with someone, it just makes it hurt that much more when your feelings clearly aren't reciprocated. Osamu, however, tells you not to worry. Suna tells you the same thing and on the rare occasions you bump into your ex-senior, Kita, he seems to tell you the same thing as well— that Atsumu will come around sooner or later. Part of this makes you feel a million times better, but the fact that apparently everyone but the object of your affections seems to know about your feelings hurts like a punch to your gut.

The thing that hurts the worst is-

"Yer never gonna believe this! It happened again an' I swear this time I was careful too."

Miya Atsumu unceremoniously barges into your living room and with no regard to the fact that you were in the middle of a Harry Potter movie marathon, he plops himself down right next to you on your couch. Sighing, you pause the movie and turn to your teary-faced best friend. He's already made himself comfortable too, he's stolen your blanket to cover his body. His piss-haired head finding solace on your lap.

Unconsciously, or maybe naturally, your hands start carding through his faux-blond locks, wanting to soothe him. Atsumu sniffles and the fabric under his eyes dampens a bit, but you don't say anything. Really, you'd think he would've learnt his lesson by now, but alas, here he is again, in your home and on your couch and you already know what he's about to say.

"It's not ma fault, m'telling ya. She said she couldn't handle ma 'busy' schedule then she told me she wasn't even that into me in the first place an' then she dumped me right there, in the middle of the movie! Can ya believe that! Even 'Samu wouldn't treat me that rudely, ya feel me?"

Nodding, you placate him by agreeing and with a numbness surrounding your heart, you recite your lines perfectly— it's always the same thing anyway, it's always I'm sorry 'Tsummie, you didn't deserve that. Don't worry, you'll find someone who'll treat you real good soon, 'kay? Next time, choose them really really really carefully!

Content with your words, he nods into your thigh and resumes the movie. The two of you are silent after that, and with your hand still patting his head, you begin to think back to all the times he's done this to you in the past three years.

The first time it happened, you were a first year and he had shown up on your doorstep near midnight. After all this time, you never asked him why you were the first person he went to after he got dumped in a Burger King. All you knew was that he looked so pathetic pitiful, standing there in front of your door that you had to let him in.

The two of you had only really hit it off a few months ago which is why you found it absurd that he came to you of all people. He made a laughable attempt to appear unbothered, you ushered him in and let him face plant into your couch and then he started talking and talking and talking. Mind you, it was midnight and he just kept rambling on and on and maybe that was when you started to fall for him.

Sure, he may have been talking about some other girl who had crushed his heart but the fact remains that he showed up at your doorstep to find some comfort in you. And that mattered more than anything else. He went on to tell you about how his date told him he talked too much (gasp) and how he wasn't attentive enough to her. And you listened, despite the fact that you were tired. Maybe that's what it meant to be in love.

"'Tsum, she sounds like she only wanted you as arm candy." You remembered telling him. "Why'd you even agree to go out with her?"

"Because she asked me." He had answered innocently, simple and to the point and that was the first time your heart was hurt for someone else's behalf.

From the way you've seen Atsumu treat his 'fans', you'd think the lot of them would be much too intimidated to ask him out. And you'd be right. Most of his admirers don't actually do much more than show up to his games but there's always a handful of them each year who dare go up to the setter himself and ask for a date.

That is Miya Atsumu's Achilles' heel— that he blindly accepts whoever's willing to take him. Atsumu isn't stupid, he told you one night that he's more than aware of how he treats his fans (they have ta know not to bug me when I serve). He told you that was why he went out with that girl.

Fast forward three years and he's still exactly the same. Every girl who plucks up the courage to throw themselves at him, he'll take them in with open arms just for them to break his heart every single time. And each time, he'll end up in your house, next to you and in your arms and he still won't get it.

Maybe it does only happen a handful of times every few months, but it's happened enough times for you to get fucking sick of it. It's happened so often that you had to turn to his own brother after he leaves you alone just to let it all out. Osamu knows you're in love with his stupid brother and he feels bad that you're dealing with Atsumu's antics so he lets you rant to him after Atsumu rants to you. It's like a cycle at this point.

You've heard the same excuses countless times at this point. If Atsumu wasn't being used for clout, he was dumped because he was too preoccupied with volleyball and if it wasn't that then the girls simply got tired of him and moved on. You feel for him, you really do— you've even cried with him at times— but if he does this one more time, you might just snap. A girl can only take so much before she cracks and you've taken one too many hits to your heart.

Atsumu nudges your stomach, snapping you out of your thoughts. 'M okay now, so 'm just gonna go, he tells you quietly as if he didn't just break your heart for the third time that year. You feel yourself nodding but your mind is miles away. The second he leaves, your thumb presses on Osamu's contact in your phone.

"'Samu! Why'd you let him come here?!"

"I'd rather he bug you than me, that's why."

Burying your face in your blanket (it smells of Atsumu, you breathe it in) you begin to talk.

Atsumu reaches home and his heart feels like it's being weighed down by stones. Entering his room, he sees his brother on the phone. Who ya talkin' ta, he asks. Osamu side-eyes at him, tells him it's just a friend and looks away. Atsumu shrugs, indifferent, but when Osamu hangs up later and he steals a glance at his phone, an uneasy feeling settles in his stomach when he reads the contact name.

"Why didn't ya tell me it was her ya were talkin ta?"

"Didn't think it would have made a difference."

Atsumu furrows his brows at that. An ugly feeling, something green and gross leaves itself rotting within himself and he doesn't know why. Why should it bother him that you and his brother are talking, the two of you are friends and friends talk to each other, he reasons. He goes to sleep that night without wishing Osamu goodnight.

You, on the other hand, barely got any sleep at all. Osamu's words spin around your mind. What do I do about this, you had asked the grey-haired twin. 'M gonna be honest with ya, alright. The only way ta get over him, is ta tell him, an' ya have ta be straight up with that dumbass, just tell him ta his ugly face that yer into him, he had told you, obviously forgetting that they shared the same face.

Maybe you will tell him the truth soon.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

Two weeks later, Atsumu remains hung up over his horrible breakup. He mopes around his house, around your house and even in school all because of it. He's all whiny and needy, more than usual at least, and rumour has it (read: Suna) he's not been focusing on the court either.

It's a normal Wednesday night when you hear your doorbell ring. The Miya twins grace you with their presence, Osamu stands before you, face screwed up in frustration while fisting the back of Atumu's shirt. Atsumu's pouting, annoyed that he was dragged here, and his gaze never leaves the floor.

"Take him. Take him an' deal with him right now before I kill him." Is all he says before stomping away from you.

Huffing, you pull Atsumu inside and let him fall onto your couch. He refuses to meet your eyes, let alone talk. It's surprising, because all week you've been trying to get him to shut up.

"'Tsummie." No response.

"Atsumu," you say firmly, but your voice colours with warmth (as it always does when you say his name).

Atsumu finally looks up and his shoulders sag with relief when he sees you looking at him. No contempt or irritation to be seen in your face, only soft adoration. He doesn't know that of course.

"'Tsummie. What's going on, bub?"

Atsumu deflates, he fiddles with your blanket before mumbling, "Nothin'. 'M just upset, is all. It's like, I haven’t found the right girl since we were sixteen an' it's like— it seems that 'm always the problem. An' it's like everyone's tryna tell me ta open ma eyes but I don't know what 'm supposed ta see. I don't know what 'm doing wrong"

Atsumu runs a hand down his face, looking at you depressedly. "Do ya think it's me? Maybe 'm just not cut out for this relationship thing."

Over the years, an accumulation of all your feelings for Atsumu has formed a string so long inside of your heart that it's started to coil. To make room, of course. And each time you're hurt by him, it uncoils and uncoils and right now, it's barely even a thread.

He lifts his face up and sighs woefully, "Agh, why can't I just find someone like- someone like ya, ya know?"

The thread snaps.

"'Tsum- Atsumu. Why... why do you have to find someone like me?"

He furrows his brows and looks at you as if it should be obvious. "Well yer ma best friend."

"No, that's not what I meant. Why find someone like me, why not- why not just me?"

Atsumu lips curl up a bit. "Whaddya mean?"

"Well, instead of looking for someone like me, why not just date... me?"

Atsumu sits up then, looking at you as if you've grown a second head and the silence is deafening. It's so quiet, you think he could probably hear the thundering of your heart. Maybe that's why you were hesitant to confess in the first place. Falling in love with someone is so scary, because you're giving them every opportunity to take your heart in their hands and it's not up to you if it gets broken or cradled. And right now, Miya Atsumu is crushing your heart into a million pieces as the silence drags on. You're about to say something when you hear it.

A tinkle.

Bubbles of giggles burst out of Atsumu and he clutches his stomach as it turns into hysterical laughter. Coldness seeps into your body as you watch him lose it, your face blank.

He's laughing. You just confessed and he thinks it's a joke, great. This is your karma for something you've done in a past life, you're sure of it. Atsumu finally stops laughing after a minute or two and he slaps a heavy hand on your back.

"Wow, ya really got me there. For a second there, I thought ya were serious."

Tears prick the side of your eyes, hot and stinging and there's a vice grip of steel wire within your throat and you will yourself not to cry in front of him. Swallowing, you hiccup, "Yeah, yeah that was real funny."

Ah, the tears seem to have a mind of their own because they fall anyway.

Atsumu backtracks, he stutters and splutters and he goes hey, what's wrong as if he didn't just laugh in your face.

Huffing wetly, you pull him off your couch by his collar, ignoring his yelps of protest. "Get out of my house please, and quit using me, 'Tsumu. It hurts and I'm tired of you using me as your personal outlet everytime you go on a bad date, okay? Go bother someone else because I'm done listening to you tonight, alright?" And with that, you've pushed him out of your door and you slam it shut, hoping it hits him on the way out.

Do you know that feeling when you're rollerblading and you're going way too fast and you already know you're about to fall? That's what this feels like. Even though you knew it'd be like this, even though you anticipated the rejection— it hurts all the same. It goes to show that it'll hurt either way, even if you did see it coming.

Once he's gone, you throw yourself onto your bed and let the tears fall freely. Your pillow feels soaked when you finally lose consciousness. You're not sure if you can face Atsumu tomorrow so you feign being sick and you hope that when you return, you'll be able to act normally.

Somewhere else, Atsumu trudges home with a conflicted heart. His chest tightens every time he recalls the sad look on your face. He thinks he messed up big time, but he just doesn't know why. And later, when he tells 'Samu about it and he gets yelled at for 'being the densest fucking idiot in the universe', it just leaves him feeling even more confused. Osamu tells him to stop hurting your feelings and he doesn't have it in him to do much more than nod.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

Unfortunately, your plan doesn't work as well as you hoped it did. Because the second you return to school, Atsumu's there, as he always is but there’s still some leftover hurt inside you. He's still your best friend, even if you are mad at him. What's worse is that he doesn't understand why you're upset so it would be a bit unfair for you to ignore him.

He's looking at you, all doe-eyed and nervous, unlike the cocky person you know he makes himself out to be and you can't help but soften a bit. He shrinks a little under your glare but you don't think there'll ever be a time where you won't forgive 'Tsummie, even if he did laugh at your attempt to confess. So you tell him to forget what happened on that fateful Wednesday night, and Atumu's a little stupid so he blissfully goes along with it.

It hurts, stings even, when he acts so normally afterwards like he didn't just make you cry for six hours straight. It hurts when he smiles at you and slings an arm around your neck and he doesn't realise that you're not pushing back into him like you'd usually do.

Anyway, when he leaves for practice later, you're all set to go back to crying in your room when Osamu pulls you aside right before you exit the school gates. The conversation that follows leaves you lightheaded but the idea that he suggests to you does sound like it would finally work. The conversation goes as follows:

"So are ya gonna do it?" Osamu raises an eyebrow at you.

"What are you talking about, 'Samu?"

"Were ya not listenin' during assembly? The principal was talkin' 'bout that concert thing for us graduating seniors." He says, as if whatever it is he's talking about should be obvious to you.

"Uh-huh, what about it?" You try not to be offended when Osamu rolls your eyes at you.

"'M sayin'," he huffs, "This is yer chance! I know yer obviously aren't over ma brother and I know yer aren't that bad with the mic. Pick a song, Suna an' I will help ya, we'll be a shit band but it'll work."

And then he left, leaving you thinking about his words. You don't know if you should trust Miya Osamu, though, because he said being direct with Atsumu would work and look where that's landed you. But then again, it is your last year in high school, maybe you should go out with a bang. Thinking about it, with him on the drums and Suna on guitar, maybe you just could pull it off.

Later that night, you shoot Osamu a quick text: Let's do it. I know just the song.

You receive the thumbs up emoji in return and you go to sleep that night, feeling slightly more hopeful than ever. Closing your eyes, you try to picture Atsumu's face in your head when you perform. Would he smile and finally get it? Would he run onto the stage and pull you into his arms like you've always wanted him to since forever? Or maybe, he won't like it at all. Whatever it is, you can't wait to find out.

The concert's in three weeks so your makeshift band, Chuupet Three (courtesy of Suna Rintarou), sets aside a good amount of time everyday to rehearse. By rehearse you mean, playing Mario Kart for two hours and half assing the actual practicing for the rest of the hour. Despite your pathetic attempts to make the rehearsals productive, you have to agree with Osamu when he says that the three of you do sound relatively good.

There's just one problem: keeping this band a secret from Atsumu.

Which is difficult considering that one of the members lives with him. Which begins the tiresome effort to make sure he definitely doesn't find out about you and the band. Because you already know he's going to a: flip out and try to join it or b: flip out and throw a tantrum and both options sound terrible, so it's imperative for the you to keep the band a secret.

You're all running out of excuses though, because how many more chuupets does Suna need to buy and what secret errands are Osamu running for his mother and why do you have to help your neighbour right now?

And of course, the universe decides to fuck you over, like it does to everyone else. And lo and behold, Miya Atsumu strolls into the room, halfway through your song. Osamu loses his grip on his drumsticks, Suna stops strumming and your voice cracks on the last note. Pin drop silence.

"'Sumu- we can explain," Osamu starts but Atsumu’s not even looking at him. No, he's looking at you and you swear you've never seen his eyes that full of betrayal, even when he was dumped in the middle of a movie.

"'Tsummie- please, hear me out," you try reaching out to him but he steps away from you as though your touch burns him, and then your heart breaks all over again.

Atsumu's been hurt a lot in his life. Whenever his mother wouldn't believe him every time Osamu did something bad when they were children, whenever his teammates in middle school would talk about him behind his back, whenever he got dumped for the stupidest things but this. This hurts way worse, he feels.

Because maybe he expected this from his brother, even suna, but never you. Because you were the first person who stuck up for him when he fought with his twin, because you're the one who kissed his head when you thought he was asleep, and you had said you're not annoying, 'Tsummie, not even a little bit, my starboy and you were supposed to be his best friend. So how come it's become like this?

Chasing after him, you call out his name hoping he'll stop. And thank God he does. He's not looking at you, he's looking at the ground as if something on the earth would save him from the burning sensation of humiliation in his stomach.

You're about to say something when he whispers out, "Ya know, if ya didn't want me ta be a part of yer band, ya could've just told me. Or if ya thought I was insufferable too, ya could've told me. Ya could've just told me that I wasn't," his voice cracks, "that I wasn't good enough." And then he finally meets your gaze, but this time you wish he hadn't, because you already know how lethal his tear streaked face is, and it kills you a thousand times over knowing you're the cause of it.

A part of you, a small tiny insignificant part of you, feels just a little bit smug because maybe now he'll understand how it feels to get your heart broken by the one person you trusted the most. But that part of you couldn't overpower the rest of your soul that aches to gather him into your arms and piece him back together again. A privilege, however, that isn't yours.

Atsumu takes your silence as an answer and walks away. You don't chase after him.

Heartache isn't a feeling Atsumu's unfamiliar with. He's known it for years. He knows how losing a match point, how failing a quiz he studied real hard for and how getting tossed aside when someone deems him unimportant— he knows all these things can make his chest tighten and make his breathing go ragged.

But this? His closest friend, his brother, and most of all you're excluding him from your activities, it hurts so much more. He thinks it's because he never thought this would happen again. He thought the days of loneliness where he was isolated and left out and people pretended to like him— he thought he left that all in middle school. He thought he finally found a group of people who liked him for him. No secrets, nothing. Well, turns out he was wrong after all.

"Oi, that's ma bed yer on." Osamu says as he strolls into their room.

Atsumu doesn't bother replying. He buries his face in Osamu's pillow and rubs his snot all over it before climbing down to lay in his own bed.

"Alright, guess I deserved that." Osamu says, mildly disgusted. He sighs before sitting down next to his dumb twin. As much as they fight over petty things, it hurts Osamu just as much whenever they're actually mad at each other, especially if it's his fault. Osamu sighs obnoxiously before leaning back all the way, laying his body over his brother's back despite Atsumu's noise of protests.

Atsumu squirms and struggles under Osamu, his bad mood already wearing off a little bit. He stills completely when Osamu reaches out a hand to tug at his hair softly before telling him, "I know yer mad, 'Sumu. 'M sorry for lying ta ya, really. But I promise we didn't exclude ya 'cause of whatever yer thinking. It's all part of a plan, or more like a surprise if 'm being honest."

Atsumu still doesn't say anything, but he nods and hums and he feels much calmer. Seemingly pacified with his words, Osamu gives his brother a noogie before climbing up to his own bed. G'night, he hears atsumu grumble from below him. Smiling, he answers back.

Pacing your room back and forth, you hope Atsumu will forgive you the next day. You even prepared his favourite food to win him over— fatty tuna onigiri. Luckily, it does manage to tide him over a bit. He sits with you during recess and munches contentedly on the rice balls. You're happy that he's apparently not upset with you anymore, but the feeling dissipates a second later when he leaves right after he finishes eating.

You don't see him in the corridors and he won't look at you in class or even when you sit in during his practices. He's acting as if your presence isn't there at all and that's so- petty- yeah alright, that sounds like him. It still sucks though, because he can't just rudely insert himself into every aspect of your life and then just leave all of a sudden, that's gonna give you some serious Atsumu withdrawal symptoms.

It's the night before the concert that you finally decide to text him. Because tomorrow is your last shot and he has to listen. So you text him and hopes he'll at least agree to listen during your performance.

tsummie, why r u avoiding me :( didn't think you'd still be mad

Not mad. Osamu told me your performance was a 'surprise' so I thought staying away would help you

oh. okay but i miss you annoying me :) make sure you watch me tmrw alright!!! and i mean properly listen please >:((

don't be silly, you know i'm always watching you.

And it's things like this that sparks a little glimmer of hope within you, that he might just feel the same if he knew what you've been trying to say all this time. Smiling at his last text, you go to sleep hoping tomorrow's the day everything will change— for the better.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

The concert's in full swing. The crowd's going wild at every performance, even if the group did kinda suck and did it for jokes, the students loved it. Maybe it's the nostalgia and the fact that it's their last year in high school, it's the energy building up and releasing. The fact helps you calm down, knowing that even if you do mess up, they probably won't care.

Maybe it's not even the crowd you're worrying about. There's only one single person you care about liking your song. Which is why you hope to God that he listens, you hope to God he's watching, like he says he's always done. Your turn's almost up and you glance at Osamu who looks unbothered but you know he's a bit nervous because he keeps tugging at a loose string on his shirt. There's only one person in your group who's actually uncaring about this whole thing. Probably because he bet Osamu $20 that the plan's not gonna work., much to your dismay.

It's time. Shaking your hands and pumping yourself up, you call the two boys over. In a group huddle, the three of you say the stupid band name before entering the stage. For the last time, you're about to lay your heart out on the line, you're about to take a leap of faith and either you're going to fall or he's gonna catch you and you wish more than anything that it'll be the latter.

Looking down at the audience, you spot him in the midst of the crowd almost immediately. His stupid blond hair calls out to you each time, and your eyes always search for him in everywhere you go anyway. He's staring at you, lips curled up into a wide smile and he's already going wooo even though you haven't even started.

Target acquired, your eyes lock onto his, and with your gazes secure, you say into the microphone, "This song is dedicated to Miya Atsumu— my heartbreak boy."

Immediately afterwards, Osamu's guitar picks up and Suna starts the beat and it's going to work, you know it will. With a shaky voice you start singing the first verse and please, let him be listening.

You call me up It's like a broken record Saying that your heart hurts That you'll never get over him getting over you And you end up crying And I end up lying 'Cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do

And when then phone call finally ends You say "Thanks for being a friend" And I'm going in circles again and again

As you go into the chorus, you hope he realises that it's the perfect song. It's as if it was tailor made for you and him, just like how he's tailor made for you. You know he is. Even if he does cry over stupid girls who'll never treat him half as right as you could, as you've always done. He's the one for you because only your sugar coated lies made him feel better all those nights. Even though it was the furthest thing from what you wish you could've said.

I bite my tongue But I wanna scream out You could be with me now But I end up telling you what you wanna hear But you're not ready And it's so frustrating He treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair

And when the phone call finally ends You say "I'll call you tomorrow at 10" And I'm stuck in the friendzone again and again

Since you've started singing, you've looked anywhere but at Atsumu's face. You know if you look too soon, his reaction could totally throw you off so you'll save that bit for last. The second verse hits you the hardest because it's so true isn't it? In your mind, there’s a replay of every single time you had to pinch yourself from telling him that he should give you a chance. He gave everyone else a chance, so why not you? Why not you, who's been there since the beginning, who always puts lemon in his water bottles because you know he likes it that way.

I know someday it's gonna happen And you'll finally forget the day you met him Sometimes I'm so close to confession I gotta get it through your head That you belong with me instead

Your voice cracks on that last line. This is you last chance to drill your feelings into Miya Atsumu's stupidly thick skull and if this fails, well, you'll never let anyone say you didn't try. And when it's time for the final chorus, you swallow down your spit and every other inhibition within yourself and force your eyes to stare straight at him, just in case he needs a little more reassurance.

I dedicate this song to you The one who never sees the truth That I can take away you hurt Heartbreak girl Hold you tight straight through the daylight I'm right here, when you gonna realise That I'm your cure Heartbreak girl

At this point, you're basically almost half screaming because that's what it takes to convey this message. And as you belt out the last line, your eyes start tearing up and your voice wobbles but you do not look away from him and neither does he and you think, yes, maybe this is the moment. He's looking at you like he finally gets it, at least that's what you hope that face means.

Miya Atsumu is a beast. He's calculative and intense and overbearing, sometimes even scary. That's on the court though. Off-court, however, he's proven himself to be quite the idiot. But right now, in this moment, with you plastering your heart like a neon sign on your forehead, he finally understands. He's not crying, not yet. His eyes are wet and he knows you can tell. He gives you a watery smile and cheers for you like crazy as you pack your set up. Your feelings and everything else you've been meaning to say, it’s been received. And so, he bolts.

You take one last look at the crowd, you glance down and just as quickly as your heart soared— it drops just as fast. Miya Atsumu is no longer in the audience and neither is he scrambling to meet you backstage. Osamu and Suna exchange sympathetic looks. Behind the curtains, Osamu shakes his head and slips Suna the $20. Behind the curtains, you leave your heart on the stage.

If being that direct still didn't work, maybe it was time to give up on your starboy.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

It's as if the world saw this coming because the second you start to walk home, rain starts falling. The sound of thunder resonates with your gloomy feelings and when lightning strikes overhead, you hope it hits you. It's a good thing as well, since now no one can tell if you're crying

But you do cry all the way home. Your feet feels like lead, weighing you down as you trudge into the shower. You cry in the shower too and when you accidentally knock your soap bottle to the ground, you think it's a metaphor for how the night went. Crying makes you lightheaded and you can't seem to think straight, which is why you cry even harder when you realise that you've somehow ironically ended up wearing one of 'Tsumu's old t-shirt. It's ratty and so worn out but faintly, like it shoudn't even be there, his scent lingers. The fabric falls to your thighs, it's so big and warm and if you inhale deep enough, it'll feel like he's there.

There’s a knock on your door. You tell your mom you're not hungry (crying made you lose your appetite) but the knocking continues anyway. With a heavy sigh, you drag yourself to the door to tell your mom that-

Oh.

There, in all his six foot glory is a very wet Miya Atsumu, your very own heartbreak boy, holding what seems to be a medium-sized wooden box in his hands.

Before he even gets the chance to open his big mouth, you shut the door in his face. Or, at least you try to. But he's an athlete and his reflexes are much faster. He shoves his foot in between the door and barges in, uninvited as always.

"Listen, angel, please," and that makes you stop for a moment because he hasn't called you that since you were sixteen. You don't why he stopped calling you it. (What if i called ya Angel, huh? It'll be like that One Direction song yer always listenin' ta.)

"Alright, angel, ya have every right ta tell me ta shut up an' leave an' never talk to ya again but- just. Just hear me out, five minutes, that's all."

And he looks so worried. You've never seen him look this worried honestly. Even after he loses a game, he appears disappointed but never worried because he knows that there’ll be future chances to redeem himself when it comes to volleyball but this? A chance with you, finally? There’s no guarantee you’ll forgive him, there’s no certainty that you’ll give him a chance and that’s terrifying.

Looking away, you sit down on the bed with a huff. He stands in front of you, face hopeful when you say go on. And then he starts rambling, just like he did that night he first came to you. He reaches inside the box and pulls out receipts from grocery stores and movie tickets and... candy wrappers? He pulls out origami cranes that look familiar and you're starting to think he's just trying to trash your room when it hits you— straight through the heart, it hits you— he's pulling out every single little trinket that he got each time he went out with you over the years.

"It never occured ta me- it never hit me until I heard ya sing but I fuckin' realised- I realised how in love I am with ya. An'-an' I know yer probably not- ya probably think 'm lying but I swear, God, I swear 'm not," and then he says your name like it makes him ache, "I never really thought about this because it was something so- so habitual for me but- every single time we went out I kept the receipts. Even when it was just a late night run ta the diner or just- just goin' ta the grocery store, I never threw away the receipts, ever. I never threw away our movie tickets or anything ya made for me an' it just hit me then. I never wanted ta throw away these things because they remind me of ya an' everytime I felt sad, I just picked ‘em up an' I felt okay again an' I never wondered why that was until it hit me- I kept these things because they make me remember ya an’ I'm an idiot ta only have realised it now but God, I love ya. It’s only ever been ya."

"It's like, whenever I felt sad, all I had ta do was- like- I take a look at this receipt," he holds up a torn faded blue receipt, one from a late night snack run a couple months ago, "An' I remember how genuinely happy I was feeling at the time. Do ya remember, we bought too many gummies an' we left a pack or two on the street? (You remember.) It makes me feel better every fuckin' time. An'- an' I do that with all these things until I finally realised— every single happy moment of my life, was with you."

"It's not just that either. You were there all the time. When I lost a match or when I won. When I did good on a test, you always high fived me an' if I did bad, you consoled me. You were there when I fought with 'Samu an' when I got- when I got dumped. You were always there, an' 'm sorry I took so long but 'm finally starting ta appreciate how much that means ta me."

Your eyes are watery again. He's staring at you so intensely and he's crying a little too, because his face is wet and it's not just from the rain. His voice is impossibly small and shaky and you can barely hear him as he trembles and whispers, "'M sorry- 'm so sorry. I can't believe I've been so stupid. 'M sorry I wasted yer time an' I've been so unintentionally cruel ta ya so- so if ya don't wanna be with me anymore, that's fine. But I finally get it. I got yer message, 'm sorry it took almost three years but- but I got it an' I love ya, I do, I really really love-"

Oh, Atsumu talks too much. Though, you don't mind listening to the countless apologies spilling out of him. It's a nice change for once. But your heart has a saviour complex solely dedicated towards him, and hearing how absolutely distraught he sounds is making your chest clench painfully.

Standing up, you reach up just to pull him down by his stupid piss hair and you don't care that he's soaked to the bone, you don't care that water is getting all over your floor and you don't care that he's getting you wet too. The only thing that matters in that second, is you and him and how you bring him down to your level so you can finally, finally, press your lips to his.

Kissing him quiet, you laugh a little into him. Because you not wanting to be with him? Impossible. There's never going to be a timeline that exists in which you wouldn't want to be with him.

The wooden box falls to the floor with a clatter. You'll pick it up later.

For now, your hands slide up his back to tangle themselves in his hair and he, in return, wraps his arms around your middle. Pulling you in impossibly closer, closer, closer. Until not even a single atom could come between the two of you. It's perfect, albeit a little messy with the way the water makes the kiss a tad wetter than you'd like. Atsumu tilts his head, just a fraction, and your mouth slots perfectly with his. It's everything you've dreamed about since you were sixteen. Definitely worth the wait.

Kissing Atsumu feels like salvation, being with him, in his arms— pieces back every single part of your heart that he's broken in the past. And when he hugs you close to him, and whispers I love ya, I love ya, I love ya into your hair, he's doing damage control and patching up any leftover cracks. It makes you feel whole.

Kissing you, Atsumu thinks, feels like completion. It’s like finishing a puzzle. It's finding that perfect piece that's been missing all his life and it finally gets slotted into its place. It makes him feel like every time he's been hurt in the past and every time he hurt you has been leading up to this crescendo of emotions he feels every time you exhale into him because he's been given the privilege to love you and to have your unconditional love in return. And knowing that, washes away any feelings of insecurity he used to have about himself. It makes him feel safe.

When you pull away from him, not enough for him to whine but just enough for you to look at him, he's looking at you all starry eyed. His eyes twinkle with unshed tears when he speaks, "'M sorry for not noticing it sooner, angel. 'M a real dummy. Did ya know? Whenever I went on all those awful dates, I always knew I was missin' somethin'"

Thinking about it now, he always compared those girls to you and it never felt right because they weren't you. They were never going to be. If he had to put together the traits and ideals of a perfect woman, she wouldn't even come close to you. It was never going to feel right until he got you, and he can't believe how stupid he's been to not have seen that.

Atsumu sits criss-cross in the middle of your floor, pulling you down with him. His thumb grazes your cheek and he says in hushed words, because it was a secret you were never supposed to know, "'M thinkin' about it now an' I must've put ya through hell. An' 'm sorry for that. But I think I know why none of ma dates ever worked out. It was because none of them were ya, angel. I'd be on those dates an' in ma mind I'd pick apart ma date piece by piece, I was tearin' them down and comparin' them ta ya. An' they always lacked somethin', ya know? It was like 'oh she's not as funny as ya' or 'she doesn't laugh at my jokes an' call me piss-hair' an' it was every single little thing that just added up to them being incomparable to ya. Because it's true, angel, there ain't never gonna be anyone— nobody compares to ya."

Miya Atsumu may be an idiot, but God does he know all the right things to say to make you feel alright again. He looks down at you and says you look cute in his shirt and you might just start crying again because you’ve waited so long.

You force him to take a shower and while he's in it, you put both his and your clothes in the dryer. When the two of you are finally in clean, warm clothes again, Atsumu wipes your floor and makes you eat with him. (Ya have ta eat with me, 'm your boyfriend. It's a rule.)

And later, when he's in your bed, with you laying on top of his chest, he'll gently bring your head down to kiss your temple. It feels like everything's right in the world. The two of you are tangled up in a warm blanket, and you're admiring the way his chest rises and recedes each time he breathes.

When you look up again, your eyes widen in concern when he starts getting all teary again. Gosh, you've had enough crying for today. But your palms cup his face gently anyway, squeezing the fat of his cheeks, your thumbs tenderly swiping away the tears that keep falling. What's going on, baby, you ask him and he dramatically wails even louder.

He says he likes it when you call him that. So you pepper his face with kisses, because you can now, until he's all red and giggly. Sinking into him, your heart flutters when his arms tighten around you even more. Looking at him fondly you mumble, "Miya Atsumu, you really are an idiot. I can't believe it took you so long. I've been in love with you for years, don't you know?"

Atsumu pouts at you and you poke his lips as he murmurs, "Me too! Me too, I swear. It took me some time but I realise it now, I know I love ya so much."

He pulls you in this time, kissing away any remaining feelings of hurt and pain until you're breathless but still going in for more. You're about to smooch him again when he pulls away and frowns at you. You frown back, twirling strands of his hair around your pinky.

"What's the problem now, baby?"

"We've wasted so much time. Too much time. An' it's all ma fault," he mumbles upsetly into your mouth.

Oh. He's such a baby. But you particularly like it when he's like this around you. He's your starboy, your closeted softie of a boyfriend, he's yours, after all. Kissing his nose, and then his forehead and finally his lips, you know just the magic words to make him smile again. And upon hearing what you said, he brightens up immediately and kisses you once, twice and then three times. I love ya, I love ya, I love ya.

"Don't be upset. We've got the rest of our lives, haven't we 'Tsummie?"

[transpat]

bad buddy's storytelling is so grounded in their present it barely gives us snippets into their past to clue together how they feel about the other (like when exactly pran fell and how pat too had been in love all along) and then there's other things that aren't clearly explained but if u think about it along w the facts we were presented it suddenly does.

like pat and ink. through out ep 4 and 5 it was the only thing i could think about bc i understand them not dating bc ink's a lesbian but that pat hadn't tried at all? that he never confessed before? i mean after pran left, ink was still there, she was w him for two years so why hadn't he ever made a move? it makes sense if u look at the 'pat's always been in love' perspective. both times, his interest in ink arose bc of her (possible) proximity to pran and while he did like her, his romantic interest started as misdirected jealousy. so it makes perfect sense that his feelings would disappear as soon as pran was removed from the equation. not just his jealousy but pat had projected his crush on pran to others too, and he did like those girls he dated in the past he's not that kind of asshole (it is possible to like more than one person at a time too so). but from the beginning for him, it's always been pran.

that's why pran being removed from his life makes him lose interest in the girl he likes so drastically he doesn't bother pursuing her. or maybe he still liked her but didn't care enough to try. or maybe he was so heartbroken he forgot everyone, everything else.

in ep 5 after he realizes w an irrefutable certainty that he's in love w pran, his first impulse is to turn to ink and confess to her. he's testing it out, seeing if those feelings for ink were ever there, and if they were, was it strong enough to make him care. she gives him the answer to both.

but turning to ink is also that one rare instance of pat running away, of pat choosing cowardice. he's at a stage rn w pran where pran doesn't even want to be friends w him, so what happens if pran finds out he's in love? since their separation pat's had this deeply rooted fear of losing pran and then realizing he loved pran and could possibly lose him was like ripping band-aid off a fresh wound. like a knee jerk reaction, he tries to rid of anything that could possibly snatch pran from him. he's done that in the past, he recognizes that now. each time he'd redirect his feelings for pran on some other girl was so that pran wouldn't grow distant from him, and he knows that w time he'd start to genuinely like her so he doesn't think what he's doing is wrong. but ink rejects him and hauls him back to his senses.

that's why i love that whole scene so much. we see pat, who's usually such a selfless, rational, good person, become someone selfish, senseless and cruel. previously we saw how far he goes in helping pran bc he's afraid to lose him, but a desperation that strong obv has an ugly edge, his unresolved insecurities would naturally fester. he's lucky it was ink, lucky it was one of his best friends. if it was someone who didn't know him that well, he would have made a mistake. if it was someone who was interested him that way, he would have hurt them. but its ink, who knows who understands. so he's relieved when she turns him down, she saved him.

ik ink's known about pranpat for a while, but during the hotpot date when she asks pat if he ever liked her at all, u realize she's known all along. that pat's initial interest in her was born out of his need to separate her from pran and even this time he simply fell into the same rabbit hole. pat did like her in the past and he liked pran at the same time. things were different now. pran was much closer to him than he's ever been, pran's been letting pat into his room, even let him stay the night, and now pat doesn't want anything else.

ink's been the one person who saw their story beyond the façade they were putting up, she's the one who provided them a safe space to nurture their friendship in school and their romance in college, she's the steady support they'd dearly needed. she's so important to the story and particularly to pranpat, and to see a female character in bl written as the bridge that brought the leads together, the catalyst that pushed them into action, instead of some pathetic, poorly written obstacle was refreshing and wonderful. (they even gave her a gf as a bonus!!) ik the story was centered heavily on pranpat and i love that the leads were the focus of their own show, esp since they're such wonderful characters, but if we get a sequel or spinoff god i hope they center it on her i wanna know everything about ink.

[captain-kraken]

7 Snippets 7 People

Thank you for the tag @writingmaidenwarrior ! See their post here

No pressure tag for @violets-in-her-arms-writes @elshells @toribookworm22 @fictionalbullshitter @blind-the-winds @thewardenofwinter @writernopal

-

Snippet 01 (1919)

Lavis shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Why are you staring at me?”

            “I didn’t think you could see me,” Einjal replied, showing no shame, “You never look at me.”

            “That does not mean I cannot see you. Besides, I do look sometimes.” He glanced over at him, trying to prove a point. “And that is not an answer.”

Einjal grinned. “If you must know, I was trying to count your freckles.”

            “I’m sorry?”

            “I’ve never really noticed them before. They’re cute.”

Lavis's eyes widened and he instantly felt his face grow warmer at this as he stammered. “Oh- um… that’s not what I… I…”

-

Snippet 02 (1985)

            “You two were close once?”

Close. That wasn’t a word that either brother would ever have described their relationship as. The age gap had been detrimental enough, but their differing bonds with their fathers had ruined any chance they would have had.

Mahrias had grown up in the shade of Sahrav’s shadow, cast from the pedestal that their father had placed him upon. Sahrav may not have had a choice in that, but he had made no effort to get down or bring his brothers up to his level.

            “I wish we had been. Or could be.”

Tafgen shrugged. “Sometimes it’s better that way. Can’t lose something if you never had it in the first place.”

-

Snippet 03 (1985)

            “I understand why Einjal did what he did.”

Tafgen didn’t say anything, but his expression said that he didn’t fully disagree.

If someone had done this to one of the Elohian villages, Mahrias would have avenged them. That was balance. And isn’t that what they were supposed to do?

But… it hadn’t been balance, had it? It had escalated, further and further, until both rulers had been corrupted beyond recognition. Both emotionally and physically.

And seeking revenge had led to Bahavi’s downfall. Which didn’t seem fair to Mahrias. They were the ones who were attacked first, and they were the ones who had ultimately been destroyed.

Unless, that was what the gods had wanted all along. But why would they want that?

-

Snippet 04 (1987)

            “I don’t want you to leave.”

Lija sighed. “I’m sorry, Vee. I don’t really have much choice. I need to work.”

            “Well, what about when Mahrias has children?”

            “That’s a while off yet. I can’t wait around for a few years for them to be born and reach teaching age.”

Viter’s lip wobbled and he stared at the floor. “B-but…”

Lija could feel their own throat tightening, and they embraced Viter to hide their face before the tears started to fall. “It’s been a pleasure and an honour to teach you. And I’m so sorry that I let you down.”

            “You didn’t let me down,” replied Viter, his voice cracking. “You did ev-everything that you c-could. Thank you, Lija. F-for everything.”

Lija squeezed Viter tighter, wishing that they could stay. This was even harder than they thought it was going to be. “Perhaps you can come visit me sometimes.”

            “That w-would be good.” Viter sobbed.

-

Snippet 05 (1991)

Tafgen watched Mahrias bang his head on his desk in bemusement.

            “I thought you’d be happy.”

Mahrias stopped and looked up at him. “I am happy. I’m just… stressed.”

            “About what in particular?”

            “I’m twenty, Tafgen. I don’t feel ready to be a father.”

Tafgen smirked. “Then you should have been more careful.”

-

Snippet 06 (1999)

He felt the pull again, only this time he resisted less. The Sinni only worked one way and there was nothing Tafgen could do as Mahrias plunged the dagger into him. He groaned in pain, whilst Mahrias realised what he’d done, stumbling backwards.

            “You know you can’t kill me.” Tafgen snarled, pulling the dagger out of his chest. Blood spurted out of the wound, leaking across his robes. “Not unless you kill yourself.”

            “I couldn’t stop it!” Mahrias’s panic was beginning to overwhelm him, and he couldn’t stop shaking. “What’s happening to me?!”

-

Snippet 07 (1991)

Tafgen knocked on the door, waiting for a couple of moments for a response. When he got none, he knocked again, this time louder.

            “Viter? It’s Tafgen.” Still no response. “Your brother’s Nivada?”

He could have just not been in his room. But Tafgen had a bad feeling. He didn’t know what to call it. A gut feeling, instinct, a sign from the gods.

But he knew he had to get in that room.

Turning the handle, he felt the feeling grow stronger when it clicked against a lock. Shaking it a few times did nothing. Neither did yanking it back and forth.

            “Viter! Please can you just answer me?”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey Steph, really adore your blog. I saw your ask about s3 and s4 John and his anger. do you have any pics that deal with that? I think his anger is caused by his jealousy. he loves Sherlock and is deeply insecure about S's love for him. I'd love to find some fics that actually deal with all of that. thank you. x

Hey Nonny!!

I DO!!! Been waiting for another ask to finally get this list up and out! Hope you find something you enjoy on this one! <3

ANGRY / CRANKY JOHN

See also:

Jealous John b/c of Other People

Jealous John

Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2 

Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3 

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4 

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 5

Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (K, 959 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Texting, Humour, Fluff, POV John, Cranky John) – A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.

And, Usually, He's the One Who GIVES Me a Headache by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,315 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, POV John, Cranky John, Headaches, Head Massage) – A migraine is never fun.

Hallucinations can't open doors by Bespectacled dreamer (K+, 1,330 w., 1 Ch. || Reunion, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Hallucinations, John’s Wedding, Light Humour) – In which John gets married and Sherlock gets a broken nose.

The 3x John Carried Sherlock, and Once ViceVersa by ShinkonoKokoro (K+, 1,673 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friendship, Three and One, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Worried Sherlock, John Gets Shot) – It happens more than he suspects.

Baskerville After Dark by Ttime42 (T, 1,921 w., 1 Ch. || THoB, Friendship, Humor, Bed Sharing, Missing Scenes, Cranky John, Cuddles) – John and Sherlock have to share a bed at Baskerville. Gen, but can be preslash.

Stay by sussexbound (M, 2,067 w., 1 Ch. || Post TAB, Suicidal Ideation Mention, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Love Confessions, Frottage, Coming in Pants) –  “Why? Why did you do it? Hmm…?” He takes a deep breath, waits, lets it out again. “Look at me.” There’s no denying him when he takes this tone. “Why did you kill him? Hmm…? For her? After…” A muscle twitches in the corner of John’s eye, and he clamps his jaw down tightly, swallows and sniffs a little before continuing. “For her? After everything she’s done?” “For you.” Before he can even stop himself. Just like that.

Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt by satanatemycat (T, 2,107 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Texting, Bored/Cranky Sherlock) – In which John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses… well, that doesn’t matter, because he won’t lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?

Nothing Left Untouched by ForeverShippingJohnlock (K+, 2,617 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Romance, Bed Sharing, Oblivious Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Grumpy John, Fluff and Cuddles) – Sherlock rearranges the flat. So what if John's bedroom is now a research library. It's not like John needs a bedroom, he can share with Sherlock. They're friends and John has obviously slept in close quarters with men before and it's not like Sherlock sleeps much anyway. It'll be fine.

Those Days by StillWaters1 (T, 2,663 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD / Sensory Attacks, Caring Sherlock) – If Sherlock had danger nights, then these were John's danger days.

Extraordinary by ardenteurophile (T, 2,739 w., 7 Ch. || Angst, Pining, Romance, Second Person POV Sherlock, Pre-Slash) – Sherlock tries to understand his preoccupation with one Doctor John Watson - the one case he can never solve.

BBCSH 'The Comfort of Company' by tigersilver (T, 2,769 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF/Mary, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Bed Sharing, Grumpy John, Touching, Clingy/Handsy Sherlock, Cranky Sherlock, Fluff and Light Angst) – It's a trope that John and Sherlock end up sharing in the same bed eventually and I admit I do adore it unconditionally, along with all it infers as to the lowering of defenses and the heightening of trust. I put forth for your consideration that the notion persists because those who think about these things realize these two men are each in dire need of some good company.

Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2,799 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Grumpy John, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pet Names, Texting, Sweet Sherlock, Princess Bride References) – John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can't find words big enough to thank her for saving John's life at the warehouse. For afters, there's a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of the Unkissed series

Bathroom Accessories by Evenlodes_Friend (E, 3,324 w., 1 Ch. || Sex Toys, Butt Plug, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Horny Sherlock, John’s Patience Wears Thin, Humour, Bottomlock) – John discovers that Sherlock has been playing with some very adult toys in the bath.

After the Bombs by VampirePam (T, 3,337 w., 2 Ch. || THoB AU, Drugs, John’s PTSD, Panic Attack, Nightmares, Caring Sherlock, Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) – In which the drugs Sherlock used to dose John trigger a severe episode of PTSD. When terrors old and new cause John to fall apart, Sherlock must rectify his mistake and pick up the pieces.

Breakfast, acronyms and brotherhood by Rose de Sharon (K+, 4,074 w., 1 Ch. || TBB Fic, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Fluff) – Set after The Blind Banker: my take of Sherlock and John's conversation over breakfast. S/J friendship, bromance, no slash.

Afghanistan in Baskerville by Amaya Ramiel (K+, 4,357 w., 1 Ch. || THoB Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drugged John, PTSD / Panic Attack, Hallucinations, Worried Sherlock, John’s Past, Friendship) – What if John hadn't seen the hound when Sherlock trapped him in the lab? What if instead, his very real nightmares of the war had materialized all around him? Trapped and drugged, John can't tell what's real and what's not. How will Sherlock react?

What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

When Your Belly's in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart (T, 4,743 w., 1 Ch. || PTSD, Character Study, Rescue, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Trauma, Danger, Drama, Kidnapping/Captivity) – The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side.

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 5,034 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

This Year by DiscordantWords (T, 6,283 w., 2 Ch. || TEH Divergence / No Mary, New Year’s Eve, John’s A Mess, Jealous John, Awkward Conversations, Trapped in a Closet, Estranged After Return, John POV, Semi-Reunion, Angry John, First Kiss, Reconciliation, Clueless Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Last year, Sherlock Holmes showed up at the Landmark with a fake moustache and a bad French accent and threw John's entire life into disarray with two words: "Not dead." This year, there are more surprises in store.

An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do.If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.

BANG by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 7,016 w., 3 Ch. || Post-TGG AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Worried / Scared Sherlock, Alternating POV, Whump, Hospital Recovery, Open Ending) – 'I should warn you,' Sherlock says, his voice steady and his eyes fixed on Moriarty. 'You are sadly misinformed.' And he fires. Prequel to M Is For Moriarty

Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5, 798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) –  When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalize Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Shuteye Shenanigans by Ayakae (K+, 13,263 w., 8 Ch. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Epic Bromance, John’s Nightmares, Angsty Fluff, Bed Sharing, Humour, Cuddles, Taking Care of Each Other, Domestics) – John Watson has never slept with Sherlock Holmes. Never ever ever. And never will, thank you very much. Well, there was that one time, but John didn't count that. It was completely different, just like the second time it happened. And the third. And the fourth. Epic bromance, but it can be read as pre-slash if you wish.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination?, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

To Mend Icarus by AlessNox (T, 28,347 w., 14 Ch. || Post-TRF / Pre-S3 Divergence, BAMF John, Anger, Fighting, Sex, Bed Sharing, Stalking, Case Fic, John’s Past, Introspection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crime, Mythology, Darkness) – After a case lands John Watson in court, he tells Sherlock that he is leaving. Not understanding why, Sherlock decides that the only way to learn the truth is to investigate his flatmate, Dr. John Watson. Sherlock finds that coming back is not enough to fix all of the damage that he caused by leaving. A post Reichenbach, post reunion re-discovery fic.

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w., 9 Ch. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w., 5 Ch. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (M, 39,968 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w., 15 Ch. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Jealous John, Falling in Various Ways) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w., 68 Ch. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w., 18 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV, Light Humour, Reconnecting, Declarations of Love) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets,  Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love,  Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock, John Separated From His Child) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[thiefoflight68]

A snippet from my latest fanfic Baku/Deku - A Small Town Romance

A03/FanFiction/Wattpad

Chapter 9

Izuku rested his chin on his hands, Momo was being strange, he sighed, it was his birthday, twenty-three. Sometimes he felt so much older, someone popped champagne behind him, he turned to watch a couple kiss, newlyweds, Izuku smiled, they looked radiantly happy. Something he loved to see, hard to describe in his books, but he always strived to find the right words. Turning back, the blonde was sitting across from him. “K-Kacchan?”

“Hey nerd.”

Izuku looked around, “where’s Momo?” His stomach flipped, the blonde looked heavenly, he was wearing a blazing red button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Izuku could smell the soft scent of his cologne, it smelled of musk and cedar. Blonde spikes coiffed perfectly, ruby red eyes gazing at him intently. “Why are you here?” Izuku looked at his plate, he knew if he looked at the blonde anymore, his desire would be obvious.

“Look at me Deku.”

“I can't,” Izuku mumbled softly. Kacchan leaned across the table and lifted his chin, Izuku looked into those amazing red eyes, his body trembling. Why was he here? Why did he have to come tonight looking so amazing? “What are you doing here?” Izuku breathed. He couldn’t take his eyes off the collar of his shirt, there was a perfect amount of the blonde’s neck visible, softly tanned from his work outside, Izuku wanted to run his hand along the skin.

The nerd looked like he wanted to eat him alive, Katsuki smiled. “I’m here to celebrate your birthday.”

Looking surprised, Izuku furrowed his brows, “How did you know it was my birthday?”

“It was Momo, she gave me a choice to come here tonight and I wanted to be here with you.” Katsuki held Deku’s chin, his thumb running over his lip.

“Champagne?” The server set down two glasses and smiled at them. “Are you celebrating a recent wedding?” She popped the cork and poured.

“We are celebrating his birthday.” Katsuki drowned out the denial coming from the nerd. Green eyes looked at him questioningly. “He loves sweets, I hope you have something special for dessert?”

“We do! Happy Birthday, yes, I’ll have the Edgewood famous lava cake prepped for you, do you know the chocolate inside is made right here in town by our locals?”

“Mina’s chocolate?” Izuku looked from Kacchan to the woman, the thought of Mina’s chocolate in a cake was too much. “Really?”

“You know the store owner? Yes, it’s the best, Happy Birthday and I’ll bring you a complimentary appetizer too, I’ll be back.

“Did I just lose out to chocolate?” Bakugou chuckled as the nerd looked back at him and blushed.

“This isn’t any chocolate Kacchan, it is so good and so expensive, I already plowed through two bags.”

“Here then,” Katsuki handed him a small bag. “Happy Birthday Deku.”

Izuku looked in the bag and grinned, it was a bag of Mina’s chocolates. “How did you know?”

“I saw the wrappers in your house when I was doing repairs, only one place uses that foil.” Katsuki reached up and unbuttoned a button on his shirt, revealing the top of his chest now.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Trying to get back to seducing you Deku, the chocolate derailed my attempt.”

“I don’t get this Kacchan, I thought you were,” he leaned forward and whispered, “straight.”

“I’m not nerd, sorry that I didn’t clear up your misunderstanding.”

“Wait, you’re gay?” He hissed. Izuku tried to understand what he was saying. If Kacchan was gay, then the kiss? Green eyes went owl wide, Izuku covered his mouth. “You’re really gay?”

“I am.” Katsuki nodded, the nerd looked like he was losing his mind.

“Fuck.” Izuku murmured, thoughts were ricocheting in his mind. “Wait if you like me now, then why didn’t you say something the night you kissed me, why did you let me run off?”

“Deku, I have asked myself that question every day since then.” Katsuki took a sip of the champagne.

“Then why did you make me think you were straight?” Izuku’s voice rose an octave. Realization was dawning and he was starting to get upset. “Now you suddenly pop up and claim to like me?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, “Calm down Deku, I didn’t chase after you because I wouldn’t have stopped, I would’ve had sex with you.”

Izuku eyebrows shot up. “You would’ve? Izuku looked at his champagne, was Kacchan not attracted to him? “That would’ve been bad?”

“No Deku,” Katsuki reached across the table and took his hand in his own. “I wasn’t ready for that, not with you, you’re not a one-night stand.”

“I’m not?” Izuku squeaked.

“No, you’re not.”

“What am I then?” Izuku tilted his head slightly.

“A person that should be loved.” Katsuki’s voice was rough with emotion. He squeezed the nerd’s hand. “Look, I’m still not sure what I’m ready for but I know I’m fucking out of my mind missing you. That kiss plagues me every day and all I want is to be with you. I was pushing it out of my mind but Momo shoved it back in my face.”

“How do you know her? And how did she shove it back in your face?” Izuku was confused again.

Katsuki laughed, “I think it was fate Deku and she gave me this.” Digging in his small bag, he handed the rolled-up book to the nerd.

Izuku grabbed the manuscript, “Oh no! She didn’t! I’m going to kill her.” Tears sprang in his eyes, he was so embarrassed, how could Momo do that to him?

“It was amazing, Deku.”

“You read it?” a soft blush covered Izuku’s cheeks, “I’m so embarrassed.” He looked down at his napkin in his lap, he fidgeted with the paper.

“Deku, look at me.” Katsuki lifted his chin again. The nerd was trying not to cry. “Seriously you’re a good writer. I was flattered by the fact that you used me in your book. I realized how much I like being watched by your enticing green eyes, that I want them in my life.” Bakugou wanted to gather him on his lap and kiss his tears away.

Izuku stared at Kacchan, he was sincere, there was no teasing in his crimson eyes. Had he just floated into his book? Izuku felt like he was no longer in real life. “I like your eyes too.” They grew quiet staring at each other, the music of the restaurant played softly, the candle reflected a dim light over the blonde’s handsome face. Izuku smiled wryly, “your seduction tonight is pretty spectacular Kacchan.”

“Good,” Bakugou’s eyes darkened to a deep red. “There’s a few parts in that book I’d like to try out with you.” He winked and taking the nerd’s hand, he kissed it lightly.

“Oh” Izuku’s mouth fell open. The sex scenes! He’d read the sex scenes! Kacchan wanted to have sex!!

[illusion-of-evil]

One Too Many: Chapter 6

Also on Ao3

One Too Many Masterlist

Summary: Every time he blinked, he was met with a blurry face with a wide smile on it. They were in a store of some kind, the colors were basically monotone though thanks to the tell’s boundaries, but the different shades and slight tint proved that the place can very well be colorful. He could only hear snippets of whatever this stranger, his soulmate, was saying. Unfortunately, he couldn’t focus on anything and study without closing his eyes and paying attention. Yeah, no, he didn’t feel like accidentally walking into a wall.

Author's note: Here we go! More Virgil self-deprecation.

Pairings: DLAMPR, DRLAMP, LAMP. Along with background Emile/Remy. Romantic with platonic creativitwins.

Warnings: Violence, blood, manipulation and mind control. Remus being Remus. Self harm and suicidal thoughts. Also a forced relationship.

Word Count: 3927

----------------------------------------------------

Why do you care?

A little mortal with odd blood,

Draining from his being, leaving him gasping for air. Stone cold white piercing his soul. He’s going to puke up the coffee he had this morning, leave it in a puddle on the ground. He wants to breathe, he wants to live. He can’t feel again, it’s numb and he’s being drained again, feeling weaker, losing more of himself.

Scoop out your eyes, claw off your skin, rip out your heart, bit off your fingers. Run, stay, she needs you, static, let her take you, numb, fog, nothing, fake, plastic, fake.

Why me? Why me?

Because I like different tastes.

“Vir-”

I can't seem to figure out what you are.

“Virgil?”

Too soft, too weak. Ash builds in his mouth, builds and builds and coats the insides like a plague. Sits there, festering, hurting, but not feeling.

“Virgil, listen to me if you can.”

Listen? Listen. He can hear, but can he listen?

It's an odd shape. What are you shadowling?

“Look at me, look me in the eye.”

It’s white.

You're dark, with so many eyes and legs. It's delicious, let me have more, mortal.

“Look at me, Virgil.”

No, not white, it’s... It appears to be brown, deep chocolate, intense brown. Grounding and familiar. Sharp like the hawk that represents them, observant and paying attention.

“Good, you are doing good. Now, I need you to breathe.”

No, can’t. Can’t breathe, can’t live.

Not even you know?

“I know you can do it. Shh, shh. Breath with me, in...out… in...out. Yes, just like that, very good, so very good.”

He’s drowning, the fuzz getting stronger and thick. Weighing down on his mind and chest, fighting within his body, pulling and tugging like a game of tug-a-war with his soul. Guts being curled painfully, taunt and clawing. He was drained more, everything is extracted. All at once, it's being pulled from him, ripping out his insides and leaving him feeling hollow. So feeble and frail like the mouse that represents him, maybe that's why Fate made him a mouse, to illustrate his doomed future. 

Ah, hahaha, I see now.

Please, make it stop.

“Continue to breathe, calm your mind.”

So close, almost there...

That deep, soothing voice ripples through him, drawing back the fog and making things much clearer to look at. The more he speaks, eyes in view and warm soft hands press against his cheek, it’s almost like the static screeches in anger.

No, Listen to me. Listen to me-

Then it’s gone, vanished into the air, warm comforting air. Nothing is numb, he can taste ash and copper. It withers away, there’s nothing but them. Nothing but him, deep brown and him.

“Can you talk to me?” 

“Mngh.”

“That is alright. Let us do a small activity. Tell me 5 things you can see.” 

Virgil’s eyes rise slowly and he sluggishly looks around. Confusion set in, his drifting brain wondering why they would be playing a game right now when he was worse for wear. What if he looks around and he sees something he doesn't want to, or maybe something he really shouldn't like the white mist that consumes everything, or maybe her, standing there, waiting to make them both suffer, why would they do that?

It's then that Virgil realized he'll take the risk because he rather try to get rid of the bile slowly climbing up his throat, planning on spewing out and making a mess on the kind person trying to help him out.

“You… the science building, other people, the sun...and cars.”

He’s outside, with Logan sitting in front of him, holding him carefully. Logan, who was caring for his well-being because they're friends, no matter how much his anxiety tries to bring them both down.

“Perfect, 4 things you can feel.”

Like molasses in his veins, his hands curl slowly into fists.

“The ground… my backpack, your hand, pain.”

“3 things you can hear.”

His eyes slid shut and Virgil shutters, swallowing and taking a moment before he gained back his ability to speak.

“Your voice, laughing...the traffic.”

There are people around him, all continuing with their days. Occasionally they would get glanced at, some people would point, some would stand and watch like it was some show. They were drawing unwanted attention and Virgil couldn’t motivate himself to say something about it, maybe convince Logan to do this somewhere else. All he could do is follow directions.

“2 things you can smell.”

The breath he took was shaky, nose flaring a bit before he winced.

“Um… shaving cream… and food?”

“And 1 thing you can taste.”

No need to think about this one.

“Blood…”

“You have done a great job for me, Virgil. Can you please open your mouth for me, so I may see the condition of your tongue?” Logan’s thumb gently ran over his bottom lip, waiting for permission. Damn it, he’s blushing again. Instead of responding, Virgil opens his mouth wide, slowly sticking out his tongue.

“Hm.” Logan leans closer, looking within his mouth before nodding and adjusting his glasses, pulling back. “It appears that it is not a terrible wound, just a bit of water should clean that bite up.”

“That’s good, um thank you... For.. for everything, really.” Tiredly, he takes Logan’s hand, letting himself be pulled off the concrete. He stumbles, leaning heavily against the inspiring teacher and panting as the sudden feeling of needing to puke twisted around his stomach and grew more, barely letting the writer keep it down. 

“You have no need to thank me. I am always happy to assist a friend.” Logan looks him in the eye and Virgil suddenly feels like crying. How the hell could he care for someone as problematic as Virgil? If he’s doing so because he’s just a friend, what would happen if he told Logan they were soulmates? Would he change face? Discover he’ll actually have to commit to helping the mouse? Would he quickly lose patience and cast Virgil aside? Will he realize that he already has four other perfect soulmates and he doesn’t need him? Why ruin the working relationship with someone so useless?

Could he at least say goodbye?

“Are you well enough to go to class? If not, I can assist you back to your dorm and inform the professor that you are feeling unwell.” The way he spoke filled him up again with warmth, even if it was robotic in a way, it was also charming. The static was completely gone by now… She was gone too. He could do this, then maybe take a 24-hour nap.

“I’m okay to go. Cw usually makes me feel better anyway. Don’t need Remus blowing up my phone either.” Virgil stands, smiling lightly at Logan. He could feel the bags under his eyes, but it’s fine, there's eyeshadow there hiding them.

They start their trek to their next class, Virgil checking the time and seeing they were nearly 10 minutes late. “Fuck.. I’m sorry for making us late..”

“Your health is more important than any class, Virgil.” 

Sincere and caring. All he could do was laugh, awkwardly, staring down at his feet as he walked. They continued the walk in silence, Virgil closing his eyes then pausing in confusion. 

Why was he on a table?

Virgil opens his eyes and looks around. School campus. He then closes his eyes. Table and... Was that the smell of bread?

Campus and blood

Table and Bread

Blood

Bread

Blood

Bread

Campus

Table

Logan

Stranger

Logan

“Are you having eye problems?”

Now he looks like a moron. Haha, kill him.

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” Virgil speeds up, hoping Logan would just drop the subject. Hoping he would just assume Virgil was being weird after a breakdown. He doesn’t know if that’s what Logan thinks, Specs is giving him an odd look, but he doesn’t say anything more, so they continue walking. Every time he blinked, he was met with a blurry face with a wide smile on it. They were in a store of some kind, the colors were basically monotone though thanks to the tell’s boundaries, but the different shades and slight tint proved that the place can very well be colorful. He could only hear snippets of whatever this stranger, his soulmate, was saying. Unfortunately, he couldn’t focus on anything and study without closing his eyes and paying attention. Yeah, no, he didn’t feel like accidentally walking into a wall.

“Slenderman!” A snort escapes Virgil before he’s being tackled into the wall. 

“Ow, fuck, Remus cut it out.” He laughs, still hugging the taller man back. He didn’t understand the Slenderman nickname. Virgil peaks behind Remus, spotting Logan watching them with pure amusement and someone else watching them, rolling their eyes. They look so much like Remus, without the silver hair, mustache, and… well... Punk.

It's not too hard to figure out this might be the popular Roman Prince, or well, “Boring twin” according to Remus.

“Hey,” Virgil says when Remus finally detaches from him. Roman grins and Virgil felt his jaw drop a bit. Cause damn, he’s so handsome.

“Haha, thanks.”

Oh, he said that out loud... Time to find the closest trashcan and dunk himself into it. 

Oh no, his face is beet red, he knows it. He could feel it on his cheeks, down his neck, over his ears, the entirety of his face. Great, perfect. That's what needs to happen in front of this oddly attractive man, with the same tan skin and green eyes as his twin. Wearing a bomber jacket with the school colors on it and jeans with a red tee. Virgil stares into his eyes before Remus walks over to his twin and flicks him on the forehead, making him jump back, making a scarily familiar offended noise. Then it was like the spell was broken and he was able to think with full brain capacity.

Wait…

Virgil found out a few days ago that they’re soulmates. Boy, oh boy, he was so terrified. He lied to Logan and Remus about being open that day for work. He looked everywhere and ignored the snake who was with him for all of his work shift, but that didn’t stop him from complaining to the reptile, of course. What do you mean that’s not ignoring? Day two, he had Astrophysics and he did his best to ignore Logan's existence while also ignoring Azalea’s existence and basically jogging out the classroom when class was over. So much avoiding and ignoring, something he’s usually good at. But that only could work for so long, after all, he had a project to do. He made a deal to himself to not get attached and to just stay strictly to work.

As one could guess, that didn’t work too well either. Remus was just too entertaining and getting into chats with Logan was too enticing. So he has resigned to his fate, deciding to enjoy their company while he can and then pretend they didn’t exist once the term was over. It wouldn’t be the first time he cut connections with friends before. He wasn't about to lose his scholarships and his fail any classes because of his soulmates. What would he say to his teachers when he gets a D on the midterm? 'I'm so sorry about that, I just really like my only two friends and now I'm going through internal tween-esc drama! So may I retake the test?

Then again, they were more than just friends.

But back on topic. If Remus is the raccoon and his theory about the lion and the raccoon being platonic soulmates is true. Then not only is he soulmates with the wildest man on campus, probably one of the smartest students on campus, but also with one of the best actors on campus.

He might faint.

“Remus, why are you not in class?” Virgil distantly hears Logan say, bringing him back to the present.

“Well, it’s just a workday, so I was waiting for you guys, then RoBro walked by and I had to tackle him!”

“No, you did not.”

“Yes, I did!”

Logan shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. “I see, well, we should head inside then. Roman, we will meet you later, alright?”

“No problem, pocket protector! Pretty sure Pat is making dinner again tonight too. He’s been frantically texting me about our mousy mate hanging out with him today.”

"Ah yes, I remember seeing the group chat filled with pictures of nothing and texts that were 'gushing' over our mouse. I do not believe Patton knows we can not see him."

"I'm just hoping that I get a chance to cuddle our squishy anxious rodent!"

Mousy mate? Are they talking about him? Does that mean one of his other soulmate names is Pat? He has been wanting to ask them about his other soulmates, but he didn’t want to be weird. He already told them he didn’t have any soulmates, so maybe his curiosity wouldn’t be too out there? 

“Virgil? Are you coming?” 

“Oh, yeah! Nice to meet you, Roman!”

Oh, they never introduced themselves to each other. He’s just going to run inside as quickly as possible.

“So, weird question.” The three of them sat in the campus park, for the most part, finished with work so they decided to take a break. They managed to fill two whole pages full of brainstorms, create two characters along with personality, backstory, and art, and they also managed to not get into a huge fight about anything other than when the setting should take place.

Virgil watched both men look at him, causing him to hesitate for a moment.

“What is it?” Logan asked, lowering his cup of coffee.

“Ah.. well… I'm curious and you don’t have to answer… But are you two soulmates?” He looks down at his sketchbook, nervously tracing the lines on the paper, taking in the monster Remus and him were working on for their impromptu video game.

“Are we that obvious? Damn!” Remus’ laugh relaxed him a great deal, glad that they didn’t get upset by the random question.

“I hope that does not perturb you, Virgil. We have always tried to keep the whole soulmate activity to a minimum.”

“Yeah! It sucks, causes what if I want to make out with my Hawkie boy before we get into class huh?”

It was Virgil’s turn to laugh, his hand covering his mouth to muffle it a bit. He looks up at the two of them, pausing for a second at the way they were both smiling at him. He couldn’t resist smiling back.

“It doesn’t bother me, Promise. You two are nowhere near the worse I’ve had to deal with…” He pauses, thinking about how he should phrase this without it being… well… weird. “So, you two again the world, eh?”

“Hah, Nah, not just us two-” Bingo, that’s what he’s looking for. “-We got a whole harem of mates and they’re ready to kick ass too! Even though Robitch would be too scared about breaking a nail.”

Here comes those acting skills that don’t exist. “Wow cool! If you guys don’t mind me asking, who are the others?”

“Are you quite sure you wish to speak of this, Virgil?” Logan sounds worried, which means he did shit at acting. “We know you informed us of being without a soulmate. We don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, what he said! But better!” 

“Guys, I’m the one who brought it up.” He sighs, okay, he can’t act, so try to be vaguely true. “You’re both my new friends and, well, I want to get to know you guys more. I’ve never met anyone with more than one soulmate before either. So… I’m just curious. I’m sorry if it's invasive.”

Okay, so maybe a drizzle of lies in there, but it seems to do the trick. The two of them glance at each other before nodding. The pale man got comfortable, sitting up more.

“In our dreamscape, we have six animals. I am represented as a Hawk, Remus is a Raccoon, there is also a Lion, Coyote, Snake, and a Mouse.” Logan explained and Virgil allowed his face to shift into shock. “Yes, more soulmates than the average person, but not unheard of. There was a Queen who, allegedly, had eleven soulmates and she chose her favorite romantic soulmate to be her king, the rest hanging around as soul loves, even if there of them were platonic.”

“Heh, of course, Remus is a trash goblin, but wow, that must be overwhelming..”

“Not really! Only when we first discovered it really! Like, entering the Dreamscape and seeing 5 animals stare at you and knowing deep down that Fate pointed at these motherfuckers and said ‘Yeah, you see these guys? Yeah, they’re gonna be stuck with you and you’re gonna love it.’ Is a… New kind of feeling. Even if one of them were my twin brother that I despised at the time.” Remus laughed and slapped the grass, picking up a beetle that was crawling through the dirt.

“Wait, Roman?”

“Yup! No one in our family was surprised. Our sisters thought it was cute and our oldest brother said that our soulmates will get to suffer the same way he did. Our little brother just hoped that he would also be our soulmate. Thank all of the lizard's intestines that he’s not.” Remus says, letting the bug crawl all over his skin then up to his arm. 

“So, it's you, Roman and Logan? Must be nice to have soulmates all of the same age. You can, like, grow old and get a house together or some shit.” Virgil waves his hand and grins, though it falters when the two give each other a strange look. “What?”

“Uh, it’s nothing! Hah, yeah, growing old together is such a cool concept.” Remus said swiftly, and the way he said it had Virgil inclined to believe him. Unfortunately for them, Virgil has learned to read Logan and the man is stiffer than a board right now. 

“Uh-huh, what is it? Was it something I said?” Now he was starting to get worried, thinking back through what he just said. He’s pretty sure all he said was that it would be cool that they can grow old together.

“Well, you see Virgil. We are not exactly all the same age. Technically, two of our soulmates are older than us.” The way Logan spoke was calculated and careful. Virgil tilted his head. “And they are quite well off too. No need for a house.”

“... are you guys trying to tell me that you both got two sugar daddies?”

“BWAHAHAHA!!” That slices through the sudden tension in the air like a knife. Logan couldn’t even help snorting out a laugh, eyes closing as he barely withheld his laughter. Thank Fate, the pressure was really starting to get to Virgil. “I’m so telling J-Anus that you said that!”

“You’re telling your anus??”

“No! J-Anus! He’s one of our older soulmates. He’s going to be so offended that you called him a fucking sugar daddy!”

“He is never going to give us presents ever again.” Logan’s shoulders are shaking with his laughter at this point, making a grin grow on Virgil’s face. They’re both so adorable.

“So what I’m hearing is… that I’m not wrong?”

Their laughter continues to fill the park with joy and Virgil doesn’t even remember what he was so worried about.

After they get through the laughing, Logan takes it upon himself to continue. Remus was much too distracted texting whoever ‘J-Anus’ was.

“Janus and Patton are both older than us. They both do work. Patton actually works not too far from here, at the Pop-star Cafe.” Ah, Virgil knew that place, Emile works there and makes Remy coffee often from there. He usually got a treat from there too, a few donuts, his favorite is the cream cheese frosted, jelly donuts. He could eat a whole box of those and not regret the stomach ache that comes after. He has never been in person though, usually having Remy or Emile bring him some when they come to the dorm. 

Now he knows he can’t ever go there. That sucks.

“Wow, I love the Mousey Donuts there! They’re probably my favorite.” Virgil laughs.

“I’ll make sure to tell Patton! He’ll love to know that. They were actually made for our last soulmate.”

Oh no, they can’t talk about him while he’s sitting right there.

“Oh, that’s cool, Anyways-” Be chill about it, think of something. “What does Janus do?”

“Ah, we actually have no knowledge. He is very secretive when it comes to his work life, though we all know it is for good reason.” Logan is surprisingly calm when explaining this. Virgil, as the ball of walking anxiety, has no qualms taking all that worry and manifesting it.

What the hell kind of work does someone do that they can’t tell their soulmates ?? How dangerous is it? Is he secretly a criminal or a spy for some foreign country? Will Logan and Remus and Roman disappear one day because their soulmate got into trouble and they’ll have to move to a new country and change their names to protect themselves from the evil cult hitmen? What if they find out Virgil is a friend and he gets kidnapped and tortured because he’s hanging out with the wrong gang?

“Virgil! Breath, it’s okay. We know he’s safe.” Remus punches Virgil on the shoulder, making him whine at the pain. “Snakey might not look it, but he can kick major fucking ass. No one is stupid enough to mess with him or any of us.”

Strangely enough, that does work to calm a few of his nerves. Virgil sighs and leans against the tree, looking up into the leaves and watching as the sky got darker and darker. They’ve been out here for a while. 

“Just don’t want you guys to get hurt.” He meets their smiles and there's a brief moment of mutual understanding and caring.

Then there’s Remus.

“We still need to find out who our last little soulmate is and kiss his tiny ass!”

“Dude, weird.” He knew this part was coming, he just wanted to prolong it and maybe never have to talk about it, ever.

“While I would not go as extreme as Remus, he is not wrong. We have yet to locate our last soulmate. To be honest, we know not we had another until recently. It is a problem.”

“How...how so?” Oh gosh, he knew he would cause issues

“They were hiding when we first met them. They were scared of us and running away. We do not know how long they have been in the Dreamscape. For all we know, our last soulmate is maybe 13 years old, which is very much not idle.”

“But if they were hiding, then there is a chance that they have been hiding for a while and we have been too caught up in each other to notice them, meaning they could very much be around our age or older… But they were scared of us for some unknown reason. I simply wish to ask them why and help any way I can. I believe all of us wish too.”

Virgil stared, not missing how Remus nods his head, agreeing wholeheartedly with Logan, of course adding in comments like “I wonder if their body is as squishy as their mouse body.”

“Oh… I… I see.” Why do they even care?

[kumeko]

Title: Garreg Mach Yearbook Chronicles

A/N: For the @garregmachzine I got to write four different snippets. It was a fun challenge trying to cram everything into a drabble.

Featuring: Leonie's troubles with Seteth and Flayn, Hilda charming Ferdinand to escape battle, Annette dealing with a club composed of Linhardt and Marianne, and Claude dodging Hubert's censor.

…

…

…

…

Fishing Tournament

Sitting on the banks of the pond, Leonie watched as her bobber dipped in and out of the water, floating idly along an invisible current. With any luck, she’d catch a fish soon. A big one, hopefully. Usually by now she’d have caught at least one or two, but then usually she was also alone while she fished. Leonie cast an eye around her, biting her cheek at the sight of her fellow classmates. Despite how early in the morning it was, it felt like half the monastery was sitting along the pond, trying their best to catch a fish.

Then again, it wasn’t everyday that Seteth held a fishing contest. After all that’d happened in the past few months, she couldn’t deny that they needed a break like this and it seemed that everyone else agreed. Byleth sat at the docks, quietly fishing. Next to her, Sylvain lost his balance and flailed as he struggled to keep out of the water. In the distance, she spotted Caspar and Raphael comparing their catches.

“I see you are also entering the fishing contest,” a slightly musical voice asked from behind her. Startled from her thoughts, Leonie looked up in time to catch Flayn as she sat down next to her. Like, right next to her. Smiling softly, Flayn clasped her hands together as she stared at Leonie’s rod. “Did you catch anything?”

“N-not yet.” Leonie shook her head, feeling a little awkward at the proximity. Maybe if she shifted the other way—

“That is a pity.” Seteth slowly sat down on her other side, a fishing rod in hand. He cast his line, his eyes on her the entire time. “It will not be much of a contest if there are no entries.”

Leonie resisted the urge to get up and run. What was it with these siblings, pinning her in like this? She felt sandwiched, with no way to escape. “I’m sure someone will manage to catch a good fish or two. Give me an hour, and I’m sure I can wrangle up a few myself.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Flayn clapped her hands. “However, that leaves a different problem. We’ll have all these fishes, and no one to cook them.”

Leonie swallowed. This was starting to sound familiar. “There are plenty of cooks—”

“Leonie has excellent skills,” Seteth suggested, as though he’d just thought of it. “Maybe she could?”

“Really?” Flayn lit up, before flashing her an innocent smile. “Leonie, would you mind?”

She should have just listened to her instincts and run.

-x-

Crest Studies

When Annette joined the academy, she had never seen herself leading a club, or leading anything for that matter. Sure, she would join one or two, but leadership was for the elites, for Dimitri’s and Sylvain’s of the world. Well, maybe not Sylvain exactly, but there were plenty other nobles who could fit the bill. Ferdinand. Lorenz. Hubert.

Yet it was her, not them, standing in front of the Blue Lions classroom, looking at her Crest Studies clubmates. To be perfectly honest, when the other options were the lazy Lindhardt and the shy Marianne, if Annette didn’t take the lead, nothing would get done. Even now, Lindhardt was dozing on his desk while Marianne fidgeted nervously.

Annette bit her cheek. She should have joined the gardening club. Clearing her throat, she announced, “For today’s activity, we’re going to the market.”

“W-what?” Marianne’s eyes grew wide. Sometimes, it looked like she didn’t know why she was in the club. “The market?”

“Why?” Lazily, Lindhardt lifted his head and gave her a baleful glare. “That’s a waste of effort.”

From the teacher’s desk, Professor Hanneman gave her thumbs up. At least someone liked her proposition. Annette quickly refuted, “It’s not.”

“We study crests,” Lindhardt replied languidly. “It’s a waste.”

Something about him always riled her up. She could feel her hackles rising. Stalking toward him, she rested her hands on her hip and bit out. “It’s not. We need to know what people think of crests.”

“Annette’s right.” Hanneman nodded sagely, intervening before an argument started. “It’s important to consider different perspectives when studying a topic.”

“But talking to people…” Marianne gnawed on her lip. “I’m not sure—”

“It’ll be fine.” Annette clasped Marianne’s hands, squeezing them tight. “Besides, we’re going to interview later, so this is good practice.”

Hesitantly, Marianne nodded. “I-I suppose that’s true.”

“Can’t we just interview now and get it over with?” Linhardt interjected, yawning.

Annette pulled Marianne up to her feet. “We’re going to the market,” she stated firmly, refusing to broker any more arguments. “If you want to decide what we’re doing, then you be the club president.”

It was an ultimatum he’d never take, and they both knew it. With a sigh, he got up. “Fine, I suppose there’s some merit to it.”

“Good.” Annette grinned as she gently tugged Marianne toward the door. Finally, she could tell Mercedes that they’d done something other than sit in a classroom. Finally, just like all the other clubs, she was going to go out with her clubmates and do something fun.

Perhaps there was some merit to being club president, after all.

-x-

Battle of the Eagle and Lion

I’d say it is an honour to write about the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, but that was before so many of my drafts got mysteriously burned or destroyed because if I happen to make any unflattering comments about Edelgard, I have to start over. Though I would argue they aren’t disparaging, but who am I to argue with her guard dog, Hubert?

So what can I say about the Battle? Well, I guess the obvious—all three of our houses showed what they did best: Edelgard with her strategies, Dimitri with his training, and me with my ‘schemes’. I call them strategies, others call them traps, to-may-to, to-mah-to. Honestly, I didn’t do anything sinister this time around. If a lot of students just happened to get a case of mild food poisoning, well, things happen. Raphael got it too and you don’t hear me complaining about sabotage.

Let’s see, something flattering—ah, I know! It’s actually quite impressive how much Edelgard was able to move despite her illness. Honestly, if someone had poisoned, they’d better know to up the dosage next time. Despite her thinning ranks, she managed to set up her classmates quite skillfully, and Hubert somehow managed to do a lot of damage despite looking like he needed to find the closest toilet.

Of course, Dimitri powered his way through the food poisoning. I think he’s got the strength of a dozen soldiers, or boars as Felix likes to put it. Felix also managed to move, but I think that was purely out of spite. It’s amazing what a motivation spite is. Then again, I think Hubert would know all about that, wouldn’t he?

My house, of course, were the cleverest of the bunch, carefully goading out our enemies and defeating them one by one. Despite losing our strongest member, we rallied around each other and fought back. It was a close fight by all reckoning. And honestly if Edelgard lost (notice I said if, Hubert!), it wouldn’t be all that shameful, considering the handicaps she had.

Now, you might be wondering who actually won? Why it’s (scorched words) of course! Was there ever any doubt?

-x-

Mission Battles

Out of all the school activities she was forced to do, Hilda disliked the missions and mock battles the most. With the others, she could get away with appealing her classmates into helping her, whether it was Marianne in the library or Raphael with the stables or some other poor, hapless soul who crossed her path. As long as it was done, no one was the wiser.

On the battlefield, she wasn’t quite as lucky. No one could protect her the entire time and her charms were entirely wasted on the enemy. It wasn’t like they’d stop fighting her just because she asked.

Or maybe, if she—no, no, it was best to banish that thought. Hilda gripped her axe as she studied the battlefield before her. Just ahead of her was a bandit and unfortunately, there was no ally in sight to protect her. She was going to have to cut this one down herself. “I don’t suppose you’d back down?”

The bandit roared in response, charging at her.

“Step back!” Ferdinand quickly dashed ahead of her, his sword gleaming in the sunlight as he slashed down on her foe. With two quick strikes, the bandit was down and her rescuer looked at her triumphantly over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes! Thanks so much!” Hilda clasped one of his hands and gave him a soft smile. She stood corrected—she could absolutely charm her way through a battle, as long as it was one of those rare cross-house battles.

“No problem.” Ferdinand smiled brightly, before looking over his shoulder at Edelgard. “As you can see, I have struck down another enemy. That brings my count to higher than yours, does it not?”

“We’re in the middle of battle, Ferdinand,” Edelgard warned, axe clenched tightly in her hands. “We’re not competing.”

“Considering how one-sided it is, I could hardly call it a competition.” Ferdinand sniped, trying to pick a fight as usual.

Judging by Edelgard’s weary expression, his taunts still didn’t work. Determining that Hilda was safe enough, Ferdinand once more returned to Edelgard’s side, no doubt challenging her once again. It was impressive how he didn’t give up. A little sad, but impressive.

If he wasn’t going to give up, neither would she. There was bound to be another sucke—noble man willing to lay his life for a damsel in dress. Catching sight of a flash of red, Hilda smiled. “Oh, Sylvain!” she called out, batting her eyes.

Perhaps she could charm her way out of fighting too.

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

@stinastar got Eskel on my brain so I had to throw some love (see also: whump) his way

Here darling, have some suffering... as a treat.

(As always, I didn’t bother editing so if you see anything ridiculous, please let me know)

________________________________________________________________

Humming a melody, Jaskier was contemplating his next ballad. He had some good material from the last of Geralt’s hunts he had snuck along on a few weeks back, right before the two parted. Jaskier was feeling this one should be nothing short of epic, a wonderful, and maybe slightly annoying, surprise for his favorite witcher upon their next run-in.

Smiling while he tried to think of a good rhyme for “reckless”, Jaskier let his eyes roam over the village he was approaching. It seemed like a small settlement, but large enough to have an inn. He was in a fairly remote part of The Continent, but he was hopeful that his charm would serve him well, even if there weren’t an inn.

As Jaskier got closer to the village an odd sight made him lose his train of thought. In the middle of the main road going through the village it seemed that most of the residents had gathered round in a loose circle, and in the middle Jaskier could see two poles that looked to be made of metal sticking up. Perhaps it was some sort of festival or ritual in the area, thought Jaskier as he tried to get a better look.

When Jaskier finally got close enough to hear the villagers, he still couldn’t quite see what they were circling, but the snippets of conversation he heard weren’t particularly encouraging. Jaskier slowly waded through the crowd, concern growing as he heard the villager’s whispers, “monster” “it’ll be good to see it die” “it deserves to suffer”.

Finally, Jaskier was able to push through to the front of the crowd, getting to see what it was that had the villagers so excitable.

He let out a sharp gasp, his eyes widening in shock.

Before him was a man, his arms chained to the metal poles, stretched high above his head, his knees on the ground, his ankles chained to the bottom of the poles. His knees were bloodied, and the man was entirely bare, save for the chain he wore around his neck.

Well, more like a medallion, really.

A medallion in the shape of a wolf’s head.

Jaskier felt panic run through him as he realized he was staring at a witcher, just as broad and scar covered as his witcher, wearing the same medallion. The man’s head was bowed as he sagged in his chains but Jaskier knew that his eyes would be that same golden amber that frequented his dreams. The only difference between this unknown witcher and Geralt that Jaskier could see seemed to be their hair, this witcher’s hair a dark brown color so very different from Geralt’s white.

Before Jaskier realized what he was doing, he had taken a step forward, closer to the witcher. Jaskier felt a sharp pull to his arm and turned to see an elderly man with a severe face holding him back, “Best not get too close, son. We’ve weakened the monster but he’s not close to death just yet. Got another week or two in him at least.”

“Right. I’m sorry, I’m a bit confused. What, exactly, is going on?” Jaskier pulled his arm out of the old man’s grasp, quickly righting his doublet.

The old man smiled, revealing far fewer teeth than he should have had, “We tricked the blasted mutant, that’s what! Weakened him and tricked him and now he serves his penance for his sins.”

Jaskier’s mind raced, trying to process what was happening. The witcher had been captured by the town, it seemed, and now was strung up and being left to die.

Having travelled side by side with a witcher for nearly a decade, Jaskier had seen more than his fair share of intolerant people and towns, but never had he seen the malice in this man’s face. The old man was clearly proud of his accomplishment, happy to watch the witcher in front of them suffer for weeks on end before death.

Well, Jaskier certainly wouldn’t just sit around and let this happen, no sir. But what to do? He wouldn’t be able to fight the entire village, and any village willing and able to do what they had done wasn’t going to be swayed by pretty words and a catchy song. No, Jaskier would have to be clever, he had to find a way to sneak the witcher away with none the wiser.

“I must admit, good sir, I’m very impressed. How did you manage to catch a witcher unawares?” Hopefully, he would be able to get the old man to give him information.

The old man let out a laugh that made Jaskier’s stomach roll with disgust, “It came asking after a contract and I was able to slip it a special mix in some food and drink while we spoke. Family recipe - helped do in four other of these monsters, though this’ll be the first since I’ve taken over as alderman, only the second in my life time. A very exciting day, all around. Sent the mutant into the woods and ambushed it.”

“And you’re still poisoning him? To keep him weak?”

“No, no. No need, those shackles we had special made for an occasion like this. Dimeritium. The beasts are weak to it, it’ll stay weak just from that ‘til it finally dies.” The alderman was beaming at Jaskier, clearly delighted with his accomplishment.

Jaskier wanted to beat the man bloody. “That’s very impressive, and do you have the town guards keep watch over him? Or hunters?”

The alderman laughed, “Needn’t waste the resources. The dimeritium does the trick and it’s locked in. I keep the key with me so there’s no need to go guarding it.”

Jaskier smiled, “You’re clearly a brilliant man, tell me alderman, did the witcher have any belonging you’ll be selling? I was accosted by some bandits on the road and lost my weapons and my horse. I’d be happy to pay.”

“Ahh, we’ve it’s things in the stable still. A brilliant stallion. We’ve no real need of it in the village but some coin wouldn’t go amiss! All it’s other things are in the stables as well, if there’s anything you want I’m sure we can work out a fair price. Follow me, if you will.”

Jaskier let his gaze fall to the witcher again. The alderman claimed the witcher had at least another week but Jaskier wasn’t convinced, the man looked close to death. Hopefully, he would be able to acquire the horse and he would be able to use the stallion to get the witcher to safety.

Dusk was approaching when Jaskier finally left the stable, his purse lighter, but now in possession of a horse, two witcher’s swords, saddle bags full of various potions and clothes and other witchery things, and an invitation to join the alderman and his wife for supper.

Jaskier hurried to the small inn the alderman had mentioned and quickly purchased a room for the night, hurrying into it, thankful it was on the ground floor.

The only thing keeping the witcher imprisoned were shackles around his wrists and ankles, shackles that simply locked with a key. A key the alderman kept. Although Jaskier was hesitant to sup with the alderman and his wife, particularly considering they apparently have a poison that, not only isn’t detected by witcher’s, but also is enough to subdue them, he figured that it would be his best chance to get the key.

With any luck he would be able to unchain the witcher and get him to his horse and then get him to safety.

Jaskier knew very little of dimeritium but Geralt had mentioned it in the past, mentioned it weakened him, made it impossible to use signs. Jaskier wasn’t sure how long it would take for the witcher to recover from the dimeritium bonds and whatever poison was still in his body, but he hoped it wouldn’t take too long. Jaskier wasn’t sure where they would be able to go that was safe so they would have to stick to the woods for a while at least. Until the witcher was well enough to defend himself. And Jaskier, hopefully.

Letting out a long sigh, Jaskier sat heavily on the bed. He wished he had a quick way he could contact Geralt, some back up would be nice. Although bringing another witcher into such a dangerous place might not be a great idea when Jaskier wasn’t even sure what poison they were using on witchers or how exactly they administered it.

Poison. Right, Jaskier needed to go to the alderman’s house. Surely supper would be ready soon.

Gods willing, he wouldn’t be poisoned too.

-

Attending supper at the alderman’s house wasn’t Jaskier’s favorite experience, what with the concern of an undetectable poison and the looming threat over the witcher outside, but it was helpful to his plans. As the alderman bragged yet again about capturing and subduing the witcher, he gestured to the heavy key ring with one sing key on it, hanging just beside the door leading to their back garden.

The alderman had also made it fairly apparent that the village as a whole didn’t concern itself far too much with security. Being so remote, they got very few travelers, and the villagers themselves would never do anything to risk the ire of their poison-happy alderman. All of these things boded well for Jaskier’s rescue attempt. He should be able to sneak out of the inn, into the alderman’s house to get the key, and back to free the witcher if he was careful.

Returning to his room, Jaskier started packing his bags, mind racing with his plans.

He would need to get the horse ready to leave town before doing anything else, a quick get away would be very important to the pair’s survival. Jaskier wasn’t sure how long the inn keep would be awake cleaning so it would most likely be best to sneak his belongings, and himself, out through the window.

Ideally, any stable boy would be asleep and Jaskier would be able to tack up the horse and strap all their bags and his lute to it with no one the wiser.

And then things would get trickier. He would need to get to the alderman’s house without being noticed, get inside, get the key, and run.

If the alderman or his wife noticed the key was missing too soon, then they might not make it out of the village.

-

Sometime later, Jaskier was lurking in the back garden of the alderman’s house, trying to make sure he and his wife were soundly asleep before he snuck inside to get the key.

After a while of waiting, Jaskier still hadn’t heard any movement from inside or seen any lights so he crept to the garden door and made quick work of the lock, thankful that he hadn’t forgotten how to pick a simple lock. He pushed the door open slowly, looking around in the dark kitchen, satisfied to not see anyone awake, grabbed the key, and pulled the door shut again.

Sticking to the shadows, Jaskier hurried as quickly as he dared to the center of the village where the witcher was chained. Hurrying up to the weakened man, Jaskier grabbed at the shackles on his left wrist, trying to will his normally steady hands to stop shaking. Jaskier made efficient work of the shackles on the man’s wrists, the man collapsing on his hands with a grunt. Jaskier hurried around the witcher to undo the shackles around his ankles before he grabbed the witcher by his shoulder, pulling his off his hands, “C’mon witcher. We need to get out of here before anyone notices you’re free. C’mon, your horse is saddled and ready to go, we just have to make it to the stables.”

“Wh’re you?” The witcher groaned in pain, his head finally lifting, his golden eyes meeting Jaskier’s. Jaskier quickly took in the man’s face, he looked remarkably like Geralt, save for the deep scars marring the right side of the witcher’s face.

“Ahh yes, I’m Jaskier, and I’m trying very hard to keep the both of us from dying, so if you could cooperate, I would appreciate it.”

The witcher slowly raised to his feet, leaning dangerously to one side. Jaskier quickly ducked under the man’s arm to provide support, hurrying the man toward the stable.

Once inside, Jaskier threw a set of clothes to the witcher, letting him dress while Jaskier led the horse from his stall. Jaskier mounted the horse quickly and held his hand down to the witcher. The witcher gave him a skeptical look before mounting the horse behind Jaskier, leaning onto him.

Jaskier urged the horse forward, heading west, “I’ve no clue where to go around here that will be safe so I thought we should stick to the woods for a bit until you’ve recovered some.”

The witcher behind him hummed and Jaskier decided it must be in approval.

The two rode hard, putting the awful village behind them before Jaskier veered off the road, leading the horse into the wood and finally stopping in a small clearing.

“Tell me, witcher, do you hear anything nearby we might need to worry about attacking us?”

The witcher slowly dismounted the horse and closed his eyes, “Nothing close enough to worry about. Fire should keep anything away.”

Jaskier jumped off the horse and walked to the witcher, ushering him to sit, “I’ll get started on a fire now, you rest.”

The witcher watched curiously ask Jaskier puttered around the clearing, starting a fire and setting out bed rolls.

“Eskel.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name. It’s Eskel.”

Jaskier’s smile was blinding, “It’s lovely to meet you, Eskel.”

-

Sequel is here

[axther]

in the golden afternoon

tamaki x reader: in the golden afternoon

in which the reader falls into a place called Wonderland, and meets the knave of hearts who is far too soft spoken to be a knight. for @mortedeveles​ tw: mentions of beheading 

Wonderland was a strange place, YN realised.

Truthfully, she wasn’t entirely sure how she got there; she was on a walk when she tripped over a hole, and there she was, plummeting down and down and down through the most unusual rabbit tunnel. It was like a drug trip and made YN dizzier than she would’ve liked. But when she finally landed, she realised that this world was much stranger than her own. It was upside down and inside out, where nowhere was everywhere and everywhere was anywhere. Paths erased themselves and the sky was a strange shade of purple mixed with blue. Huge pine trees had pale pink roses on them, and the grass was maroon. Flowers spoke with sharp tones and lilting song, rocking-horse flies flitted around, and YN would shrink and grow at the world’s whims. There were no rules, and YN learned to obey. One of the non-rules was told to YN by a young man with purple hair and wide, toothy grin. He called himself the Cheshire Cat, as he reclined lazily along a tree branch and swung his tail around. All ways here, you see, are the King’s ways, he purred. Oh, but don’t worry. He’d be just mad about you. YN wasn’t sure what the Cat meant by that, but his lavender eyes narrowed, and she didn’t feel any comfort. He took it upon himself, strangely enough, to follow YN through her journey into Wonderland. He gave snippets of twisted wisdom and often got her into trouble, but she couldn’t find herself to become angry at him. He was a companion that she found herself grateful for in the long dark ways of Wonderland. She ended up wandering into the gardens of the Red King, seeing several young men furiously painting several white roses. The Cat floated around above her, watching the men work. “My, my, they are truly working themselves hard.” The Cat grinned, wrapping his tail around YN’s shoulders. “It’s almost like their lives depend on it~!” “Do you suppose that’s why?” YN tilted her head, looking at the Cat and then back to the men. “They’re very rushed.” YN bent down to pick up a stray paint can and brush, and prodded the brush around in the bucket. The red paint was more akin to blood, wet and dripping onto the grass. Strangely, the grass looked to once be green, if the spots unpainted meant anything, but the young men had been so sloppy with their job that it had gotten everywhere. The roses were very blatantly painted, hardly drying before they moved onto another flower. The leaves were dripping and the branches were stained, and YN slowly walked up to the three they were working on. “Hullo,” She moved around so she could see the three men, each of whom jumped before working twice as fast. One had bright green hair that flopped around his face, the paint smattering over his freckles and making him look like a Christmas decoration. The one next to him looked angry, almost stabbing the roses in his fury. The last looked, in a word, dumb, painting his fingers more than the roses and getting it all over his blonde hair. He had a strange mark that was like a lightning bolt across the side of his hair, and it seemed so out of place with the rest of him that YN cast him a strange look. “Huh?!” The second worker turned, and with a growl, swung his paintbrush at YN without hitting her, and went back to work. “Get outta here! Fuckin idiot!!” “What?” YN reeled back, pursing her lips with an angry stare. “How rude!” “You fuckin heard me!” The man barked, growling like a dog. “We’re busy!” “W-wait!” The green-haired one stopped the blonde in his tracks with a yelp. “Kaachan! Be nice! Maybe she can help us!” “Oh?” The Cheshire Cat grinned. “Being recruited, are we?” “Shush, you mangy thing.” YN huffed, tightening her hold on the paint can and addressing the three. “Why are you painting the roses red?” “Well, y-you see, the Red King wanted red roses.” The green-haired one stuttered, biting his lip and getting back to work. “And fucking Socket Licker planted white roses!” Kaachan hissed, finishing up the tree. The last blonde jumped, peering at YN and the others. “Huh? Is something up?” “Denki, not now.” “Oh. OK!” Denki started walking over to the tree that Kaachan was working on, working on a rose that was already painted. The green-haired man hung back, looking to YN. “Uh...I’m Midoriya, and that’s Bakugou and Denki. Would you be willing to help us? It would really be awesome!” “Very well, then.” YN furrowed her brow and walked up to the tree, painting gently so it actually looked convincingly like a red rose. Bakugou and Midoriya were both doing relatively good jobs, but Denki’s painting was sloppy enough that white portions were left open. YN tried to cover several of them up, but before she could get far, trumpets starting sounded from across the hedge maze. The three jumped, scampering around and trying to paint any roses they saw with a single swipe of red. It didn’t do much, but then the White Rabbit walked mutely in with a small frown and sighed, raising a piece of parchment and beginning to read from it. “His imperial highness, his grace, his excellency, her royal majesty, the King of Hearts, and the Knave of Hearts.” Midoriya, Bakugou, and Denki all got down onto their knees (though Bakugou seemed far more reluctant). YN glanced at them, and then got onto her knees as well and shoved her nose into the grass. The White Rabbit shuffled to the side and rolled his eyes (YN realised, peaking up, that they were two different colours) as another man stepped into view. He had a completely smug grin on his face and blonde hair that was flat and oddly natural. His blue eyes scanned over the flowers, before slowly sauntering over to the roses. Paint still dripped down from them, and YN paled at the thought of what the Red King was going to do. If these three were so freaked out, then what was his usual reaction? “Ah, yes...the red royal roses.” He whispered, caressing the roses gently in his hands. He brought it up to his nose, took a deep breath, and pulled away again. Abruptly, he ripped it off of the tree and threw it onto the ground, angrily stomping on it with his foot. “Then why the hell are they painted?!” He howled, turning to the trio. “Who the hell painted my roses red?!” “It was Deku!” Bakugou’s head snapped up, barking with a vigor. “It’s was all him!” “Midoriya, you say?” “N-no, Your Majesty! It w-was...Denki! Sorry, Denki.” “Huh?” Denki looked up, quirking his head. “But I thought it was Bakugou who said to paint them?” “Enough!” The Red King bit, stomping his foot again. “Off with their heads!” YN paled, looking up with wide eyes. Several knights stepped forward and started dragging the three off, with only Bakugou spitting and kicking the whole way down. YN was left alone in front of this menace, and she felt her blood cool. “And what’s this?” The Red King looked down at YN with a sneer before snapping his fingers. “Knave!” “Y-y-yes, King Monoma.” From behind several knights, a young man scampered out. Instantly, he felt different from the others; he was meek, holding himself close and almost shuffling out of sight. He skittered up to YN and knelt, gently tilting her chin up to look her in the eyes. His own were a stunning shade of indigo, dark and almost black. Tufts of similar hair poked out from under his helmet, framing his face and making him look...well, beautiful. He seemed to be glowing under the eternal afternoon sun, and he blinked softly. “Oh.” He murmured, eyes wide and pleading. “Y-you’re…” “Well?” The Red King huffed, crossing his arms. “Get on with it!” “Sh-she’s a girl, sir! Your Majesty, sir!” The Knave jumped up like he was burned, hands snapping to his side and looking terrified. “A human girl!” “Oh?” The Red King leaned down to YN, raising his eyebrow and smirking. “Well hello, there.” “Hello, uh...your majesty.” “She’s a quick learner!” He grinned, though it felt horribly malicious. “Get up, my dear.” YN got to her feet as quickly and gracefully as possible, making it her one goal to survive. The Cheshire Cat cackled in an echo, and YN felt tempted to spit some insult at him, but knew that it would only land her in trouble. “Follow me, my dear.” The Red King waved his sceptre lackadaisically, beginning to move through the gardens. YN started trotting after him, noting that he seemed like a complete control freak-and that even stepping ahead of him would be dangerous. The Knave caught up with both of them, glancing at YN out of the corner of his eye every couple of seconds. YN glanced back, trying to make sure that her head was on a swivel, before looking ahead when the Red King started talking about something mundane. Meanwhile, Tamaki was having a stroke. He hated his job. He hated being looked at. He hated being told what to do, hated that he was a glorified butler, hated that his best friends were scattered across Wonderland. But this was the first time in...too long that he’d seen another actual human being that wasn’t completely cruel. This young woman seemed sensible, though, and seemed to restrain herself from something stupid. She held herself with a certain grace that Tamaki hadn’t seen in a long, long time. “Knave!” Monoma barked, spinning around. “Stop zoning out, before you lose your head!” “S-s-sorry,” Tamaki whispered, bowing his head and fiddling with his fingers. Monoma lowered his eyes in disdain, but let it go in favour of pointing to the castle. “Give our sweet guest a room, Knave.” Monoma lowered his eyes, and Tamaki realised with a chill that Monoma had crueller intentions. No one was ever allowed into the guest rooms of the castle unless they were going to be executed, or worse-assassinated. Why Monoma wanted to kill this sweet, King-abiding young woman, Tamaki had no clue, but he shook and nodded his head sheepishly. “A-as you wish…” “As I wish…?” “Y-your majesty.” “Good dog,” Monoma smirked again, walking off as Tamaki bit the inside of his cheek. He hated this, hated the Red King, hated Wonderland. And this poor girl was going to be killed because, what, Monoma just didn’t like her? It was a cruel world that Tamaki lived in, and a crueller fate for the young woman. “You’re Tamaki.” Tamaki jumped out of his skin at the woman’s soft tone. Her tense demeanour had melted away, leaving her gently smiling at him. “How…?” “You look like someone I know.” She looked ahead, rocking her hands a bit. “And you remind me of him a lot. Actually, everyone here is very familiar. The Red King, the White Rabbit, the Cheshire Cat...you.” “R-really?” Tamaki felt his heartstrings being pulled almost dramatically, and a flush overtook his face. “Yeah!” The young woman chirped. “Oh...I suppose here, you don’t know my name. I’m YN.” “YN…” Tamaki tested it on his tongue, and he could almost feel it rolling around in his mouth and on his tongue like a delicate sweet. It made warmth surge through him, and something in his gut twitched. It made him feel warm, flooding through him like good memories. He stopped in his tracks, feeling like he was on fire before he gasped. “Huh?” YN stopped and turned around, tilting her head. “Are you okay?” “Y-you…” Every cell in Tamaki’s body screamed out for him not to hurt her. No, she was something far more than just a woman. She was someone that brought him comfort even then, in the Red King’s gardens, where the rest of Wonderland couldn’t even touch them. It was them against the world. “Wait.” Tamaki turned around, making sure that there were no new cards slinking around nearby. YN raised her eyebrow and gave him a curious look, tilting her head. “Is something wrong?” “Come with me.” Tamaki felt a strange surge of confidence through him, holding his hand for YN to take. “If you stay here, you’ll be k-killed.” “What?” YN’s eyes went wide, and she took his hand. He began to run through the maze, knowing every twist and turn like the back of his hand. The evergreen hedges folded into pale bushes, and then into red grass that he missed so dearly. In the distance, he heard Monoma yelling for him, but for once, he didn’t listen. He kept on running, booking it for the edge of the woods until the sky was consumed by trees and the mome raths scattered at the sound of their pounding feet. YN was panting behind him, doing her best to keep up, but he finally skittered to a halt before a great wall. It was the edge of Wonderland, at the very border of the Red King’s land. He turned to YN. “I can get you past here. From there, you can get home safely.” “What’s going on?” YN’s eyes were wide, confused and alert. “We all know you, YN.” Tamaki sighed, feeling an incredible sense of melancholy and nostalgia come over him. “I don’t know how...but we do. And you can’t stay here.” “I…” YN tensed, and Tamaki knew why. She had no reason to trust him. He was just a complete stranger that said he knew her, even though he technically didn’t. There was no reason that she should do anything with him, even if-YN smiled, and Tamaki froze. His heart roared in his ears, and the flush on his cheeks came back tenfold. The world was spinning around her like she was the sun, and Tamaki let out a nervous laugh. Nervous? What was more nervous than nervous? That’s what he was. He was stone in front of this goddess, and he could only shuffle his feet. “Y-you should go before Monoma realises that we’re...yanno…” “Right.” YN nodded, looking over the wall before walking over to it. She pressed her hand to it, and there was a breezy laugh over her shoulder. “Now, now, YN.” The Cheshire Cat started reclining on her shoulder, moving his hands to wrap around her shoulders. “Isn’t it lovely here? I’m sure that the Red King just wanted you to stay the night~” “Shut up, dumb cat.” YN bit, and pressed her hand into the wall. A door appeared out of nowhere, swinging open, and Tamaki sighed. YN turned back to him, giving him a shy smile. “Stay safe, ok?” “I-I will!” Tamaki jumped, his hands snapping to his side. YN lingered through the doorway, like she wasn’t quite ready to leave. Tamaki glanced around, unsure what she was waiting for. “I...I don’t think I’d be able to tell you this in real life.” YN looked down, eyes flickering across the dirt. “But I like you. A lot.” Tamaki jumped. “Wh-what?!” “I guess, since this isn’t real…” YN paused. “Right?” “Oh.” Tamaki only felt confused and could barely make two words. “What?” “This is…oh, nevermind.” YN took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders as the Cheshire Cat slinked off. “Goodbye, Tamaki.” She walked through, and Tamaki saw a light. 

Tamaki woke up on his desk and had a heart attack. 

He jumped up, hoping he didn’t attract too much attention from the rest of his class. Oddly enough, though, only Mirio, Neijre, and YN were in the room. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, and Tamaki felt instant mortification. “There he is!” Mirio smiled brightly at him, waving. “Have a good nap?” “Y-you let me sleep!” Tamaki paled, feeling ready to drip out of his seat and onto the floor. YN turned and smiled softly. “You deserve it.” “Yeah! And it sounded like you were having a good dream!” Nejire giggled. “You were smiling and bright red!” “I-I was?! Oh, god!” Tamaki’s hands rushed to his face, slapping his cheeks in hopes of willing the flush down. He felt sick to his stomach; did he say anything in his sleep? Did YN know? Was it weird? “C’mon, Tama.” YN rose and placed a gentle hand on Tamaki’s back. “We should head to our dorms before it gets too late.” Tamaki’s head snapped up as Mirio and Neijre began walking out the door. YN waited next to him, soft eyes on him. He felt like the world was slowed to a stop. YN was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and the gentle way that she looked at him made his heart race. He loved her for the longest time, and no matter what, she always managed to make him into goo.

  He supposed his crush was like a rabbit hole, and he was still falling. 

[pagesandmagic]

folklore || mad woman

description: she left the outer banks two years ago and now she’s coming back for the summer. they haven’t seen each other since she skipped town without telling him. they’ve both hurt each other, so how do they come back from heartbreak?

warnings: swearing, angst, S L O W B U R N.

series based on songs from the album ‘folklore’ by taylor swift.

author’s note: hiiii two parts in one week?? who am i??!! thank you for all the love on the last post! this one was shorter than i expected, but i’m also not a super long writer so i guess it fits, haha! anyways, this part takes place right before she’s skipped town, so just keep that in mind. 

Part One (the 1) | Part Two (this is me trying)

her.

summer in the outer banks was unlike anything else. everything seemed brighter. the world was more carefree, and while each pogue had a job, the days seemed to last forever. 

it was the last summer before everyone was splitting up. everyone had some kind of plan for the end of summer and what they would be doing the next year. you were still a little lost, not really knowing what came next. all you knew was you wanted to spend as much time with JJ, and if that meant holding off on going to college for a year to be with him, then it was what you were going to do. your family insisted it was a bad idea to change plans for a boy, but JJ wasn’t any boy. there had always been a connected between you two. it took you both years to realize it, but when you did, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced. 

“yo, Fin,” Kiara threw a towel in your direction, taking your mind away from the blonde haired boy that always seemed to find his way into your mind. 

“what?” you shrugged your shoulders. Kiara’s father had given you a job at the wreck the minute you turned 16. he was desperate for help during the busy season, and you were desperate for money for a car. it worked well and you were thankful you didn’t have to work at any of the country clubs and be around kooks more than you already were. it was honestly exhausting to keep up. 

“what are you and JJ doing tonight?” Kie smirked, wiped down the table next to yours. 

“I didn’t know i was doing anything with JJ tonight.” 

“seriously? you’ve slept at the chateau every night for the past four nights.” she stood up straight, pointing at you, “ and i know you’re doing way more than sleeping,”

“hey now,” the topic of your sex life was nothing you wanted to talk about with anyone. you were more private about that part of your relationship, although you were sure JJ was not. “i’ll tell you right now that i did not have sex every night.” 

“oh, so only three of the nights.” Kie smirked. 

“and one morning,” you both fell into a pit of laughter as Kie made her way to the back of the restaurant to clock both of you out for the day.

you threw your bag over your shoulder, your stomach turning not knowing what to expect from the dinner JJ had planned for you. uncertainty never made you nervous before, but from the sound of his voice on your phone call earlier in the day, there was something different. 

JJ. 

he fucked up and he knew it. he also knew this dinner wasn’t going to make up for the news he was going to tell her, but he could only hope. 

he wiped his palms on his shorts before he packed away the last of their dinner into his backpack. he knew she loved the simplicity of eating meals on the dock over the ocean. if he was going to break this kind of news to her, he wanted it to be in a calming place. but he knew that no matter how many ways he tried to make the situation better, he would still be breaking the worst possible news and it wouldn’t end well.

she knocked on the door of the chateau, “JJ?” her voice echoed through the empty house and he could hear her footsteps as she made her way to the kitchen. he felt as if his heart was in his feet.

she turned the corner as his gaze met her figure. she was wearing a green polka dot skirt that stopped just before her knees, with a worn in white t-shirt and white sneakers. her hair was curled and her makeup was minimal. “god, you’re gorgeous.” he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead. he breathed in the smell of her shampoo and he could feel his breath tremble thinking about the many terrible ways this night could go. and expecting them all.

“a picnic?” her voice piped in. he turned to look at the backpack, one hand staying steady on her hip. 

“all of you,” he said, kissing her temple. he was scared that he was going to lose her. out of all the girls he had been around in his lifetime, she was the one he wanted to keep. she wasn’t a typical beautiful. the outer banks was filled with girls who just cared too much. about what they looked like, who they hung out with, what their life looked like on their social media. but she was so different. over the years, she had grown into her own. her body was unlike the other girls with it’s curves and marks, but she had learned to love it. the shy girl he once knew, had turned into a woman who stood her ground in social situations, but knew when she needed to take some time a part from others. they just fit together. moreso, when they came back together after their one (and only) breakup two months ago. 

spending the last months of their senior year a part was good for both of them. they had grown up together and she never wanted to be dependent on a man, and she had become like that with JJ. while he knew they both craved more during this time, it felt like the right thing to do before they graduated and transitioned into adulthood. but there was one night of it that he regretted more than he could have ever thought. 

they had both agreed to see other people if they wanted. but neither really had any interest in anyone and knew that their break was most likely only temporary. she decided to focus on school and spending time with the pogues. JJ didn’t have an interest in any other girls than her. except the one night he mixed a little too much alcohol and a little too much weed together. 

her. 

the dock was your favorite place. growing up in the outer banks, your life was filled with the ocean and everything that came along with it. the water had always been your happy place, most of your days were spent there. 

you both finished the dinner JJ prepared, but for some reason your stomach was continuing to turn. you two had spent plenty of nights together eating on the dock so you knew it wasn’t from that. but you couldn’t shake the feeling as the night drug on, that this wasn’t a normal date. 

“you know i love you, right?” JJ spoke quietly after you both had come down from a fit of laughter. you never got tired of hearing those words come out of his mouth. 

you nodded and grabbed his hands across the small picnic table, “of course i do. i love-”

his words cut straight through your own, “Inez is pregnant.”

in three simple words, it felt like everything was being take from you. the entire future you thought you had with JJ was ripped apart. you loosened your grip on his hands, and slowly brought them back into your lap. unsure of what to say, unsure of what your next move needed to be. 

it was like something washed over your body in an instant that brought a certain warmness through you. was it sadness? was it anger? maybe even rage? it all didn’t seem real. JJ’s lips were moving, but his voice was coming in and out, the blood was rushing to your head. you could hear snippets of his voice, “mine, i think...it was one night...i was really faded...Fin?” 

you thought flames would come out of your mouth if you spoke, holding back all the things you wanted to say. you grabbed your bag and started walking down the dock. not sure where to go or what to do. all you knew was that JJ Maybank had unleashed something inside you that you didn’t know you had: madness. 

taglist: @jjmaybankwildtimes @hannahhh-marie​ @sloaneemily​ @coloradogirl07​ @bibliophilewednesday​