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lacollectionneuse1967 · 10 months

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slip of the tongue part 3 - reckoning

Theseus Scamander x Reader

"Keep your hands to yourself!" You snap, trying to infuse as much venom into your voice as possible. "I can't," he groans.

summary: a second mission with newt and the group reintroduces theseus's former fiancée, leta lestrange, into the mix. old wounds and insecurities flare as you both reckon with your pasts and make decisions that determine your future.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: romance with plot. some smut. slight angst!! non-canon compliant.

warnings: 18+ smut, semi-public inappropriate touching, dirty talk, hand kink

part one / part two / part three

author's note: it's funny how the title of this fic doesn't really fit anymore HAHA, goes to show that i did not plan this story at all. this part is going to be LONGER & more focused on plot & their character development! hope you enjoy, as always let me know if you'd like me to continue :)

The surreal, electric buzz from the gala dissipates as soon as you enter the elevator at the Hotel de Rome with Theseus.

Theseus's jacket is so large you're practically drowning in it, the sleeves hang well past your hands. You feel like a little girl in a nightgown. The elevator pulleys burr mechanically as it slowly rises, the electric bulb light casting your face in a sickly, ghastly light. The backs of your high heels have begun to dig painfully into your skin, that stinging pain the only thing grounding you to reality, that and Theseus's warm body beside you. You're positive your feet are bleeding.

Your weariness is mirrored in everyone else's faces when you walk into the hotel room at last. It's obvious that they're all overextended. There's no semblance of victoriousness, even after your successful heist.

Newt stands, alert, at the sight of his brother.

"Theseus! Finally, I was beginning to worry-"

"I'm fine, brother," Theseus waves him off. His hair is slightly damp from the snowfall, and his dress shirt as well. "We got caught up, but we're fine."

When Newt turns to speak to you, his lips part but no words come out. He's staring at your mouth. He looks pale and horrified.

"What?" You turn to the others and to Theseus in uncertainty. Tina and Jacob are also looking at you with newfound distress, but Theseus seems as clueless as you, frowning warily at Newt.

Newt makes as if to bring a hand to your face but pulls back at the last moment.

"Oh dear," Newt says. "Y-Your lipstick is smeared... I'm so terribly sorry, Y/N. And your hair—I didn’t think Dietrich would actually-"

Theseus half-raises an arm, cutting his brother short, looking admonished.

“Actually, Newt, that would be my doing...”

Your face warms considerably. Newt chokes on his words.

“Oh…” He turns to the rest of the group, his face nearly flushed as yours. Jacob lets out a strangled noise and Tina does a discreet double-take between you and Theseus.

“Well,” says Newt, mercifully changing the subject. “We all made off fantastically. Good work.”

You want to share in his congratulations, but it feels premature with Grindelwald still at large. It doesn't feel as though you have much to celebrate in this tiny hotel room, the five of you still standing awkwardly in your evening wear.

"What now?" Asks Tina.

Newt sits on one of the two twin-sized beds and hunches over, forearms on his legs. He is your designated leader, but you have to admit he looks so small and frail without his coat. Thin and unsure of himself.

"I have it on good authority that Credence will be at a mausoleum in the French Alps. He could be heading there now, we have no way of knowing, but he is planning on going there soon. Tomorrow, maybe."

"Why?" Tina's face is full of emotion. You don't know who Credence is, or why he is important to the resistance, but you don't feel that now is the time to ask. It stuns you, the subtlety of her expression, how someone can look so crushed and full of love at once.

"He's, erm, searching for his ancestral records I believe," Newt answers. "The Lestrange artifacts and family tree were moved there from the cemetery in Paris, possibly by Grindelwald. This is likely all a trap set for Credence, but this could very well be our last chance to intercept him. To save him."

Tina is speechless, Jacob nods solemnly.

"Y/N," says Newt. It startles you to hear him say your name in all of this deliberation. "I know you probably don't understand half of what we're saying, and we understand if you don't want to come. But we'll likely run into Grindelwald and his followers. They're after Credence. We could use you."

You don't even have to think.

"Of course, Newt. I go where Theseus goes." You wonder if you sound too intense, too devoted, so you add: "And besides, I want to be of any help that I can."

Theseus reaches out and clasps your hand in his. It thrills you, for him to do this in front of his brother, in front of the others. Your heart races, happily so.

Newt smiles at the sight.

"Sleep," he turns to everyone. "We leave first thing in the morning."

----

The next day, by the time you make it to the French Alps in spats of apparition and stretches of traveling by train, it is nearly dusk again.

You and Theseus had slept like the dead in the too-small hotel room bed, with Tina in the other bed and Jacob and Newt, in a turn of events beyond your understanding, in some hidden compartment within Newt's brown leather suitcase. Strange, but you didn't question it. Your bodies ached when you woke, but it felt like heaven to you, being held by him, you wouldn't have traded it for the world.

"I'm too big for this bed," he lamented, stretching his limbs, when the two of you woke in the morning.

"Hmm, yeah. Too big... " When you smiled coyly and narrowed your eyes at him he threw a pillow at your face. You caught it with a laugh.

"Naughty," he chided.

"The resistance," as Theseus had once jokingly called it, turned out to be not so glamorous after all. The resistance was perpetually tired and forever embarking on some haphazard plans only half-understood.

But when you set foot at the base of the mountains in the Alps, you feel bizarrely energized. This is what you imagined the work of an Auror would be like, chasing leads, pursuing justice through crowded cities and rugged terrain. It feels good to be so proactive after a year of being more or less cooped up in an office at the Ministry. And, best of all, Theseus is here with you. And he wants you, if not your heart then your body, at last, at least...

"This can't be it, Newt," you hear Jacob say, his breath pluming in front of him in small huffs. He struggles through the thick snowbed to catch up to Newt, who is a bit ahead of the group. You're in what looks like a forest clearing, the mountains rise in the distance, gargantuan and feeling a bit holy in their emptiness, their silence.

"He's right. There's nothing out here," calls Tina.

It's a winter forest. A killing wood. In truth, you’ve never been so cold in your entire life. The whole world has turned white as death: white blizzard blotting the air, thick blankets of fresh snow carpet the ground, and everywhere outside the clearing are great white pines standing like sentries, their edges blurred and softened by the snow fog.

You can see what’s in front of you, but you can’t see what’s coming.

Newt walks clumsily back through the budding blizzard to rejoin the group.

"The mausoleum should be a bit uphill from here!" He assures. "It's concealed by magic. Credence doesn't know, but we need someone with the blood of a Lestrange to enter."

The blood of a Lestrange.

Before you can even make the connection, Theseus stiffens beside you and drops your hand.

"Newt, you didn't." His voice is grave.

"I'm so sorry."

You wonder in a shrugging, aloof way why Newt looks to you after saying this to Theseus. It still doesn't mean anything to you.

A branch cracks, a high, ear-splitting sound like a broken bone. When you see the figure emerge from the tree line, your hand is already on your wand.

Grindelwald, you think.

But then Theseus's arm snaps out to yours, stilling your hand, almost just as quick.

"Don't." He says.

She approaches you slowly and you make out who it is almost immediately, just by the shape of her silhouette. Theseus and Newt's reactions make sense now, it all clicks into place with resounding dread. You feel the word "oh" in the pit of your stomach like a dropped stone.

Floating from the forest like that, in her wine-colored silk dress and black coat, Leta Lestrange really does look something like a ghost, or an angel...

When she approaches she walks straight to Theseus.

"Newt wrote to me," she says loud enough for everyone to hear, but she is only looking at Theseus. Looking at him like she's searching for some lifeline there. "Credence thinks he's my brother... We both know this cannot be true. I can help you get inside the mausoleum. I want to help you."

You dare to look at Theseus, bracing yourself. He looks genuinely stricken, lips parted, palms open and hanging limp beside him. So little affects him, he's so confident and secure in himself. But there in the clearing, the look on his face...

Before anyone can speak Newt steps forward again.

"I'm so sorry, but we need to get to Credence before Grindelwald. We have to go. Credence is... sensitive. He's afraid. It's best Tina and I go ahead. Leta, Theseus," he turns to the two, who are having some silent conversation with their eyes. It's so private and familiar you have to look away, you want to scream. "You two follow closely behind."

"What about me?" Jacob chimes in with a nervous laugh.

Newt tilts his head and gives Jacob a sympathetic smile.

"Don't worry, my friend. I won't leave you to the wolves. Y/N is a brilliant duelist and a master of all sorts of charms. You two will stay at the very back and wait outside the mausoleum. We can't afford to frighten Credence, and you need to alert us if you see any of Grindelwald's followers coming our way."

You nod numbly. Some roaring white noise fills your ears, anesthetizing the scene in front of you.

"Theseus," you hear Leta say softly. She places a gloved hand on his forearm. "Can I speak with you on the way there?"

"Of course," he responds, graciously, easily. She leads him up ahead.

You keep hoping Theseus will turn to you, even just to look back at you, to reassure, to reconnect now that Leta has been thrust back into the mix between you.

He does not turn back. You stare blankly at the back of his head as it disappears in the blurring snow. He follows Leta into the woods like a man being swept away by magic, following some siren song you can't hear.

'I can't compete with her,' you realize achingly. The truth rings dully in the pit of your stomach, metallically. 'They were engaged. They've been connected since childhood... I'm nothing.'

You try not to wring your hands or shuffle your feet, try not to look like someone left behind, wounded. You blink at the delicate crystals of snow that land on your lashes, hoping that the others don't mistake them for tears.

Newt comes over to you cautiously. He's not one for knowing what to say, but he's perceptive, and kind. Sinking, sinking, you can feel your heart being pulled to your feet and swallowed by the ground.

"Y/N," he begins. "I'm sure... When they were together—but when they separated…" He swallows and starts again. "I’m quite sure my brother’s mind is made up. I know he cares for you too, though I don’t know if he made you any promises-"

“He did not,” your voice sounds acrid, bitter to your ears, petulant, and you hate it. “It’s fine, really.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s okay. He doesn’t owe me anything.”

'And I don't owe him anything,' you finish in your mind. When really you love him like breathing, need him like water. You're just trying not to let it show.

You want to be nonchalant and unaffected, want to give only what he’ll take. You don’t want to ask for too much.

You don’t know why loving always takes the form of limitation with you. You withheld your feelings for him for nearly a year. You only ever do what he asks. You turned down jobs and tried your best not to burden him with your feelings, with your past.

Why this mode of loving, why starvation and restraint, when love itself, for you, felt like every door in you burst open at the sight of his face? It was a wild and unwieldy joy, a freeing sort of affection that you felt for him. Now and always.

You swallow thickly, embarrassed at the speed at which he abandoned you for her. Embarrassed by the way Tina and Newt and Jacob, even, are looking at you.

"Let's go," you say, trying to sound encouraging. Newt and Tina run ahead. You and Jacob walk in silence uphill, trudging through the snow.

----

In the end you don't see any action at all. The mausoleum appeared at Leta's beckoning, a wave of her wand and the stunning glass building, hexagonal, glittered into solidity in front of you. You and Jacob waited outside, as instructed, but through the thick, crystalline glass you could make out that the bodies and artifacts were housed in beautiful stone tombs, scattered in the glass room like giant chess pieces, and you could see what unfolded within.

Leta, Newt, and Tina were talking to Credence. They met him down where he was crouched on the floor, explaining something to him in hushed tones. He was sobbing so softly. And then he was gone, and so was Tina, who left with him.

You feel so utterly mute, so adrift, you're glad that Jacob doesn't speak to you.

Newt is the one who jogs out to you and Jacob. Theseus is still inside talking to Leta, who seems sad in a soft, unperturbed way. He's gazing at her so gently as she speaks. It's the way he looks at small animals, and children, and the people he loves.

Looking at them feels like looking at a photograph, or like looking through the windows at Primrose Hill when you were a child, before you'd outgrown the title of "orphan." You would escape the orphanage to peek into the townhouses, the family homes overlooking Regent's Park. Dining tables and grand pianos, all the lights on. Nothing to hide...

"Y/N," Newt says breathlessly. "We better get going. We beat Grindelwald here, but I don't know by how much."

You cross your arms to help with the cold.

"Okay. Where are we going-"

"Oh, it's probably best if you go back to London. Back to the Ministry. Lay low until you hear from me, or Dumbledore."

You don't know why his goodbye is so cutting. You know that he's not abandoning you too, but it's almost too much.

He purses his lips sympathetically.

"Stay safe, Y/N. Grindelwald is planning something big. But if we act any earlier Grindelwald and the Ministry will be onto us and our efforts will have been in vain."

"I know," you say. "I understand."

You apparate away without another word. You try not to think about the two of them, in the forest clearing, in the glass mausoleum, together in all the years before that, but you allow yourself to wonder when Theseus will notice that you're gone.

----

On Monday you call in sick. You've never called in sick once in your entire time at the Ministry, so your request for a sick day is accepted easily and without complaint.

You sleep the whole day and do not answer the door when you hear the knocks. Knowing who they belong to is agonizing enough. He'd never been to your place before, but you can't imagine that it was difficult for him to procure the address.

You wake from your day of fitful, restless sleeping around 2am. Moonlight streams cold and bright through your chiffon curtains, filling your apartment with blue and silver shadows that you find comforting, beautiful maybe.

When you pad out into your living room, barefoot, you see a letter on the hardwood floor. A creamy envelope that had been slipped under the doorframe, waiting there for you like magic.

You bend down to pick it up and open it. There's nothing on the envelope itself, but you'd know him by handwriting alone, by his breathing, his scent.

Dear Y/N,

I know you're not sick. Because you're never sick. You have the most formidable immune system I've ever come across and I think muggle doctors should study you in a lab for it. But, I confess, that's beside the point...

I know you're cross with me. Please, if I have upset you or, worse, if I've broken your heart, I can assure you it was never my intention. Meaning: if I hurt you it is because I am a fool, and not because you are deserving of any hurt.

Forgive me for my behavior yesterday. I needed to resolve some things, and Leta's arrival was a true shock for me. I behaved poorly to you, but even more unforgivably to Leta, who I left mere weeks before our wedding, confessing my love for another woman. The pain I've caused her haunts me, and I was happy to be absolved of it yesterday evening. Happy to answer her questions and to be forgiven. But I should not have left you there alone. I should not have let go of your hand. I damn myself, because as much as I love you, it seems I've never been able to do it well.

I hope this pitiful explanation and guileless apology will suffice. Come, pretty girl. Come to work tomorrow, I beg you. My whole life is on the floor without you, nothing works, my head's a mess.

Yours,

You heart clenches painfully. Your lungs constrict and your hand tightens around the letter. You love him. You want to let it go, what happened between him and Leta, and you and him, in the clearing.

But you can't.

----

Apparently, it's going to be a week of first-times. Because, also for the first time in your career at the Ministry, you are running late.

"Fuck," you hiss to yourself. You hate traveling by Floo Flame, are used to the muggle comforts of walking and the London Underground, but you don't have time.

You dust off the fireplace ash from your shoulders as you walk through the British Ministry.

"Y/N!" you hear. The voice slices through the bustle and noise of the suit-clad workers not with its volume but with its familiarity.

It's him.

'Oh, god. Already?' You'd been hoping to avoid Theseus today. An impossible task, considering he was your boss, but you'd taken on more impossible tasks before. Bigger monsters.

"Y/N, hold on!" Theseus shouts again.

You have to speed up your walking to a near-comical pace to escape his long-legged strides. Hard to do in heels.

You turn your body sideways and push forward through a thicket of office workers with an "Excuse me! So sorry!" to shoulder your way into an empty elevator.

You slump against the back wall, exhaling deeply in relief. No Theseus-encounter after all. You really managed to-

"Aha!" Theseus exclaims, interjecting his overstretched hand just as the elevator doors begin to close. "Perfect. I was just looking for you, Y/N."

You don't respond, but huff in indignation and move aside, making room for him in the small elevator. He presses your floor number, level two, looking far too self-satisfied for someone who just ran across the marble floors of the Ministry of Magic, unrepentantly.

Your heart pounds as the elevator begins to move, you don't know why you can't look at him. Maybe it's because you know, if you did, all would be forgiven. You jolt when he leans forward and pulls the emergency break. The elevator comes to a jerking, screeching halt.

When he looks at you, sidelong, your stomach flips.

"C'mere," he mumbles, and moves to trap your body against the wall.

Your body responds differently than your mouth, arching against the wall, pushing closer to him.

"Ugh, no," you say, mournfully. You want it bad, want him. But you're still angry. It's oddly possessing, the notion that just a kiss from him could save you.

Your words do give him pause, however. He's standing so close to you he basically has you up against the wall, there's no escaping him. His chest heaves, you can feel his breath against your face. You want to press his open mouth to yours, to taste it, open yours to his tongue.

"No?" He echoes dubiously. "Did... did you not get my letter?"

"I got your letter," you retort, feeling flustered. "I found it... insufficient."

He starts forward again, a hand cups your ass. You slap it away.

"Keep your hands to yourself!" You snap, trying to infuse as much venom into your voice as possible.

"I can't," he groans.

"Try harder."

"I am rational and measured about all things in life, except for this, for you."

"Try harder," you say again, more forcefully, ignoring him.

"Hmm," he hums, considering. You don't move this time when his hand traces your thigh through the material of your skirt, you just stare, mesmerized. Your skin breaks out in chills. His fingertips move in lazy, dancing circles.

His hands, his fucking hands. They're so big. Long, elegant fingers with large knuckles. The veins there, the fact that you know what his fingers feel like inside of you...

Theseus follows your gaze with his eyes and scoffs, but not unkindly.

"You want my fingers inside of you, baby?"

He doesn't wait, and when you don't protest he doesn't stop. His hands slide under your skirt, one of his thumbs is pressing firmly against your clit through the lacy material of your underwear. He applies such a steady, unmoving pressure, staring into your eyes relentlessly and leaning his thumb harder and harder into that one spot until you squirm back against the wall with a ragged moan, breaking his burning gaze, not sure if you're more desperate to escape the sensation or to keep feeling it, over and over again.

"Theseus," his name sounds filthy out of your mouth, heady as a moan, though you're actually trying to tell him something. "Really, I just-"

The elevator lurches forward again, shuddering in place for a few moments before resuming its path with a piercing screech. You tumble into Theseus, losing your balance, and he catches you with both his arms.

"What did-"

"I don't know," he says, helping you right yourself, looking over his shoulder at the doors.

The elevator stops at level six, the Department of Magical Transportation. Your face is still flushed red and tingling with heat when the ornamental brass doors slide open and the two of you are greeted by a curious, gawking group of wizards that includes the department head, Mr. Silas Elodius.

"Oh, heavens! Mr. Scamander, it's you," Silas Elodius is a unfailingly happy, plump man. "We were wondering what must've happened! It seemed the two of you got stuck. Well, all sorted now!" He laughs heartily. "Trust our department to get you moving again."

Theseus returns the laugh, a little less enthusiastically. The both of you move against the back wall of the elevator to allow the large group to shuffle in.

"Excuse us, we're headed to level three," Silas smiles wildly, toothily. He tends to talk through his smiling, which makes his next admission all the more horrific. "Terrible accident involving a misplaced potion bottle on the Knight Bus! Boom! Limbs lost. Really nasty business."

"Erm," Theseus seems shaken, at a loss of how to respond, which is uncommon for him. "We'll be level two."

"Right, of course!" Mr. Elodius motions impatiently for one of his several colleagues to press the button. With the combined weight of everyone there, the elevator moves slowly, dragging sluggishly upwards through space. Thankfully, the group does not turn back to you or Theseus, preoccupied with their own small conversations.

Your heart is still thumping pitifully, your pussy still throbbing and aching around nothing, craving his fingers, stuffed inside. You're wet, and there is no relief in sight. But you still want, need, to be mad at him.

"Y/N," Theseus is leaning in, speaking so low that only you can hear him. The sound of your name in his mouth, it's a purr, a plea.

You shudder. "Theseus, please don't."

"If this were my office," he whispers. His hand returns to the front of your skirt, slips beneath the hemline and nudges your underwear aside, slides up, embarrassingly easily, between your slick folds. You lean back against the wall in silent prayer, for him. You're frozen, incapable of moving, incapable of telling him to stop.

"If this were my office," he continues, voice thick and ragged. His finger moves leisurely, pumping in and out, driving you crazy. "I'd have you on my desk with your legs up. And I'd lick you until you cried. I bet you're such a pretty crier. I wanna make you come on my mouth, my tongue."

It takes everything in you to remain quiet, to remain still. Just as you begin to lose yourself in the feeling, your head going pleasantly fuzzy, the elevator dings and he retracts his hand, smoothly, unfussily.

He looks so unaffected, leaning back against the wall. It's you who has to bow your head to avoid Mr. Elodius's eyeline. Your knees tremble.

"Well, this is us! Best of luck, Scamander." Mr. Elodius waits for his people to file out of the elevator before departing.

Theseus salutes him with two fingers, in a charmingly youthful way.

When the doors close again you've recovered more of yourself, your wits.

"Where were we?" He corners you again, kissing the side of your neck.

"I'm mad at you, Theseus." You don't stop him from kissing your neck, but you grip his wrist, haltingly hard, when it starts to reach under your skirt again.

"Mm," he hums against your throat, noting the way you expose more of it, craning it for his access. "No, you're not."

With a nip of his teeth, he extracts a whine and a tremor down your legs. You imagine his hands, his beautiful big hands, coming around your throat, squeezing, applying pressure there until you go light-headed. You want to be choked by him. You want to get down on your knees in this elevator and unbuckle his belt and take him into your mouth until he's the one who is needy and whining, wanting it bad, moaning and praising you, calling you a good girl.

The elevator dings for the final time and you have to physically push him off of you. He falls back without a fight.

"Our floor," you say, trying to make your expression into something like a glare. You're not very good at resenting him.

For a moment you're not sure what he's going to do to you. It's scandalizing and rousing, the idea that he might grab you, touch you anyway. The look in his eyes is black and beyond hungry, sapped of all restraint. He gulps and clenches his jaw. Blinks at last.

Ever the gentleman.

"Of course, after you," Theseus says. He motions for you to walk ahead of him.

You stomp off to your shared office, trying pathetically to fix your skirt and your hair and any other part of you that looks disheveled.

When he comes into his office behind you and closes the door, latching the lock, he looks equally undone. Vulnerable almost. It's not only that he needs you, which he does, but that he wants to make it okay and doesn't know how.

"Y/N," he makes a vague, defenseless gesture, throwing up his arms weakly, and sighs. "I don't.... How can I make it right? How can I make it up to you?"

It's a cheerless, pitiful noise, your responding laugh.

"Don't worry, Theseus. I got your letter. And besides, I manage my hopes quite well on my own."

"I wish you wouldn't. Don't."

You scoff.

"No, it's my fault for hoping for more from you. You're asking me to, what, put my faith in the world?" You know your tone is sharper than intended, and your expression is that of a burned woman, hardened and jaded.

But he doesn't hold it against you. You try not to flinch away when he steps forward and brings a hand up to your face, to your cheek.

"No, I'm asking you to put your faith in me."

You could cry at this tenderness he's affording you.

"I just," you gently place your hand over his and lower it from your face. "I just can't believe that you don't feel anything for her. I can't shake the way I felt watching you leave me, without a second glance."

Your voice breaks on the last word. You're admitting more than you bargained for. Admitting that this is the way you've felt your entire life. The orphanage, your parents, every adult who promised to help you, to save you, and didn't. It was too familiar of a pain for it to hurt as badly as it did, being left behind.

"Leta, she... I don't know what you mean," he says, shaking his head.

“Theseus, I'm not stupid! I saw the way you went after her! The way you left me behind, it was like I ceased to exist. You obviously still have feelings for her—"

“I have feelings for you!" He raises his voice in frustration, and it startles you. "She’s the one I left behind, for you.”

You feel so worked up, so overheated. You don't want to be fighting with him, not now, not ever.

"I-I don't believe you-"

"Y/N, you are essentially calling me a liar right now. I don't know what else I can say to make you believe it, you act as if I took off with her and kissed her-"

"You didn't have to! You already have been for the last two years, Theseus!" Your hands are wavering, your bottom lip too. "I don't believe you because, if it's true what you told me, about you leaving her for me, why didn't you act in the months after?! You proposed to Leta mere months after dating, but for the months you were single you didn't try to-"

"I was your boss, Y/N! I was trying to be a good man, a good friend!" He rakes a hand through his hair roughly.

"So I'm just supposed to believe that you left your fiancée to live a life as my friend? To continue working with me like-"

“I apologize if that’s too difficult for you to believe, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.” His tone is brusque, almost business-like.

It's like a shot to the heart. His lack of understanding, lack of seeing.

“Too difficult for me to believe? Me?!” You’ve never raised your voice at him like this, every word is straining out of you, painfully. Any semblance of control you had is unspooling, rapidly. “Theseus, my second month here I was offered a position as an Auror, my dream job, what I’d worked so hard for at school, and I turned it down to keep being your assistant! I turned it down to keep living a life in your shadow. I thought that if I could make myself smaller for you I could-"

You can’t continue, the tears rise up in a saltwater tide in your lungs. You turn your head away, quick, so he doesn’t see your face break.

"Y/N," he says, gentle, broken. "Y/N, I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Maybe you didn't want to know. I... I know you desire me, Theseus. I'm sorry, at one point I thought I could just sleep with you, and I wouldn't need anything more, but.... Oh, god, I'm sorry."

You rub at your eyes aggressively, even as the tears continue to fall, in a self-conscious and fruitless display.

He looks so lost, looks like he very badly wants to comfort you, to hug you, but no longer knows if he's allowed to.

"Y/N, I can recommend you for promotion, I can-"

"It's fine, Theseus. I made my decision and I've lived with it. There are no open positions right now anyway, the post was filled."

It's silent for long enough that the quiet no longer hangs there like an awful, third body between you. You regain your composure, the tears pass and give way to a hollow feeling.

"Y/N," Theseus speaks at last. He's standing across his office still, but the look in his eyes is so full of longing and yearning, he could've been across a train platform, a crowded room, a continent. "I have not been doing this right. I should've asked you to be my girlfriend a long time ago, I know. For that I am ashamed. But..."

He licks his lips and inhales sharply, trying to find the words.

"Y/N, please don't accuse me of lusting after you. What I feel for you is nothing so shallow as lust. Yes, I want to be inside you all the time, but that's because being close to you, this," he steps forward and places a cold hand against your chest demonstratively, below your neck, skin to skin, "This isn't close enough."

You look up into his seaglass eyes, your heart in tatters. Him, it's always been him.

"I miss you when I'm with you," he says. "I love you, I've told you before and I'll tell you again and again, but it's up to you to believe it, sweetheart."

When you still don't say anything, can't find the words, he looks crestfallen, closes his eyes.

"What do you want?" he asks you, opening them.

And you can't answer. To love him freely? To feel held and chosen by him? To live your dreams and relinquish your past without shame or grief or hesitation? Before you begin to say anything at all, the words building and budding at the back of your throat like a flower about to bloom, a knock sounds at the door.

Theseus closes his eyes and sighs, pained.

"Theseus-"

"I have to go," he says tersely. "I've been gone with my brother for too long. The department heads have called me in for questioning. I don't know when I'll be out."

You nod, swallowing.

He looks at your face, a look of determination settling on his.

"I promise to make it right."

----

It's past closing time and Theseus still has not returned from the depths of whatever secret, dim-lit corner of the Ministry they took him to for questioning. All day you've spent heartlessly filling out paperwork, finishing up your research assignments, stewing in anxiety.

Please, keep him safe. You think to no one in particular. Please.

You reluctantly leave the office, hoping to find him in the Atrium. You sit there glumly at the edge of the fountain, shooting periodic glances towards the elevators and the staircases, hoping to see him emerging from the Department of Mysteries, maybe, or the Courtrooms. Even the paper missives, usually magicked into airplane and bird shapes, have stopped flying overhead in the Atrium. The Ministry is emptying out, there's hardly any foot traffic at all.

You feel as though you handled everything, your insecurities and emotions, so artlessly, so recklessly in your last conversation. You are aching to make it better.

Eventually, you walk back to level two in a daze, pushing through the heavy oak door to the Aurors Offices with all the attention of a sleepwalker, your mind elsewhere.

You nearly trip on the house elf in front of the door when you stumble into Theseus's office. The elf grumbles in discontent.

House elves? Your shared office is hardly recognizable. Half-cleaned out, three Ministry house elves are busy at work, boxing and taping and scrubbing the furniture and shelves clean. Your stomach lurches.

Theseus. Where are all his things? Was he found out? Arrested?

Your voice sounds like a stranger's to your ears, so transformed by sheer panic.

"Hello, excuse me!" You say to one of the house elves. He looks over in open disdain, though you can't blame him, seeing as you almost crushed him just now. "Hi, yes, what is going on? What are you doing with Mr. Scamander's things? I'm his assistant."

"Mr. Scamander," the elf drawls, setting aside his mop bucket with a melodramatic thunk and splash. "No longer works here."

The elf tries to turn back to his work when you lunge forward and grasp him by the shoulder. He looks at your hand on him in abject shock.

"Please!" You beg, falling to your knees to better convince the house elf. "I need to know what's happened to him, it's important."

"Nothing has happened to him, miss. He turned in his letter of resignation an hour or so ago!" The elf shakes you off of him, none too gently.

He gestures rudely to the two, untouched pieces of paper laid out on the desk. Everything else has been cleared.

You snatch up the nearest page with a shaking hand, eyes racing over the words.

It's from the heads of your department, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and it confirms what the elf told you. Theseus gave up his position and designated you as the one he desired to fill the post. The Aurorship is yours.

The letter requested that you complete a trial period of one month, as it was unheard of for a witch with no Auror experience to take up the Head Auror post. But they were amenable if the trial period went well. These were dark days, recruits were scarce and few other Aurors were jumping to fill the position. Your confirmation meeting with the department heads was to be after work, at 7pm.

It's nearly that time now.

You blink at the words on the page, astounded and a bit shell-shocked.

You're hardly thinking at all when you pick up the second letter, hands moving with an automaton, detached fluidity.

Dearest Y/N,

The questioning did not go well. I had to act quickly, darling. I was thinking only of you.

Take the Head Auror position and be safe and happy forever. Blamelessly, and knowing you are loved.

Or, meet me at King's Cross Station tonight, at 7:15pm. If you'll have me, if you love me. I'm joining the fight against Grindelwald, for good. I'm meeting my brother and the others at Hogsmeade.

I am horrified that you ever put me over your dreams, and that I gave you so little in return for it. If I could turn back time, I would've done it all differently. I would've made you mine.

My love, you couldn't answer me when I asked you what you wanted today, so I wanted to give you this choice now.

It did not make much sense for me to stay at the Ministry. They were suspicious of me from the start, war hero or not, because of my relation to Newt. You could do wonderful things, have so much more influence than I could. There were no other open Auror positions for you to take but mine, but I can give you this one part of my life, easily. God knows I'd give you the rest if you asked.

I cannot promise your safety, or your happiness, but I can promise to love you, as I do now, as I always have, no matter what you decide. My heart is yours alone. All you have to do is reach out and take it.

Yours,

Theseus

Reading the words on the page, feeling your own breath suck in and whoosh out of your lungs, hearing it, it's all so surreal.

Your heart flutters meekly, wounded at either prospect. But you want to choose yourself. Who has ever chosen you? You need to be on your own side this time.

You glance at the clock and curse. You shouldn't have spent so much time waiting in the Atrium, floating about the Ministry.

"I can't go, I won't go," you decide. "It's too late anyway."

Who knew if you'd even be able to have a real relationship with him? Even if you believed his love for you, and that he was over Leta, and somehow overcame the horrors and traumas of your life that you hadn't begun to confront... who knew if it would work? That would be its own, new, excruciating pain, having loved and it still not being enough...

"I'm staying," you think to yourself. "I am. He doesn't know what he's asking of me, he doesn't really know me at all. I'm staying. I'm taking the position."

At first you thought the words to convince yourself, reaffirm and reinforce. But they don't sound as improbable as you thought. This happiness doesn't sound too good to be true, it sounds as if it could belong to you after all.

You sigh, trembling, and begin to go through the empty drawers of Theseus's old desk, imagining your life, or trying to.

You reach for the bottommost drawer, pulling it open.

The sight of the worn little clothbound book snags your vision like a thorn. You pull it out in a trancelike state and read the title: Garden Parting by P. M. Kipling. The memory rises without you even having to reach for it, like a face in water.

-----

One Year Ago

It was only your fourth week at the office. This bloody idiot named Henry Ludgate somehow came to the insane conclusion that if he talked to you enough, or talked at you, more fittingly, you would like him back. So every one of your lunch breaks, without fail, he'd come searching for you in the Atrium to talk your ear off about nothing at all.

At the present moment, he was trying to strike up a conversation about women's shoewear, a hard topic for even far better conversationalists.

"I actually do like flat shoes, or 'flats,' are they? But I only like the ones with a bit of heel, all the other types of flats are terribly unattractive I think."

You were dimly aware of your boss, Theseus Scamander, watching this all unfold with a lackadaisical amusement. He was leaning against a newsstand of The Daily Prophet pretending to read it, but really you knew his sly smile at the front page was for you.

"So, not flats?"

"Sorry?" Henry always jumped at the excuse of poor hearing to lean uncomfortably close to you.

You rolled your eyes, not caring if Henry saw or not.

"If the flats you say you like have heels, doesn't that make them not 'flat shoes'?" You asked curtly.

Henry stared at you dumbly. "Oh, right. So it's 'heels' I like then."

You flicked your gaze up to his, irritably.

"So how many pairs do you own, then?"

You thought you saw a rustle of paper in the corner of your vision--undoubtedly Theseus was choking back some fit of laughter.

Henry attempted to clear his throat but only seemed to choke, rubbing a half-fist on his chest touchily.

"What?! Pardon me, not for myself!" He was veritably red in the face, not pink or any subtle, healthy flush, but bright red. "I-I meant I like heels on women, on you."

You could barely tamp down your frustration. This was supposed to be a restful lunch break, a good hour of no-work, and yet you seemed to enjoy your actual work more than this (for many reasons, the first reason beginning with the letter T and the last reason being the way the first reason smiled at you whenever you said something bright, or funny, or kind. He had a smile like light cracking open the sky at dawn, it so completely transformed the rest of his face, always reaching his eyes).

"Henry," you sighed, indulgently, maybe a bit patronizingly. "As much as I am grateful for your... fashion tips, and your riveting conversation, I really do prefer to read on my lunch breaks. I'll have to excuse myself."

You turned on your heel before he could protest, finding another secluded corner of the Atrium by the fountain. You pulled out the book, Garden Parting, as more of a prop, or a shield, or a comfort object, like a teddy bear. You had no intention of reading it right now. Not when...

Just as you suspected. You saw the shadow come over your shoulder, the shape of his figure, his hands in his pockets. Even that, his outline or shadow, stirred up some feeling you couldn't name in your chest, in the cavity there, next to your heart.

"Mr. Scamander," you sighed. "I really don't understand what sort of sadistic pleasure you gain from watching Ludgate torture me with mind-numbingly boring conversation."

You said this without turning, already smiling. Theseus sat down beside you, gingerly, beaming.

"It's entertaining," he said. The deep rumble of his voice was pleasant. "The way you eviscerate him. It's my favorite part."

There was something so attractive about the tilt of his eyes, hooded, and the curl of his hair, a strand falling loose over his forehead. He brought his bottom lip under his teeth, bit down and squinted at you.

"Do you really prefer to read on your breaks, Y/N?"

You scoffed, mock-offended.

"Yes! Do you really read The Daily Prophet on yours?"

"No, not at all," he admitted, shamelessly and with a boyish smile. "What are you reading?"

You suddenly felt self-conscious. You almost didn't want to show him. Your book was soft and worn, the cloth corners frayed, the text on the front half chipped off.

Against your instinct and your nature, you found yourself reluctantly handing him the book. Your mortification increased tenfold when he didn't take it from your extended hand, he only stared at it unreadably.

"What-" you began.

"Wait," Theseus turned to his suitcase, set it down on the tiled floor beside the fountain and clicked open the latches. "Garden Parting by P.M. Kipling, right?"

He was speaking so excitedly, shuffling around in his suitcase.

'No way,' you thought, and then, because you couldn't help it:

"Oh, you're kidding," you gasped. "No, Theseus! You're kidding. I swore I was the only person in London with a copy."

Theseus pulled it out at last, victorious. A sleek hardcover, newer than yours, but creased from frequent reading.

"Oh, Theseus!" You brought your hands up to your mouth. You were always worried your emotions, especially excitement, would make it harder to be taken seriously at work. You endeavored to dampen and mute them, but you could not hide your girlish elation at this inexplicable commonality between the two of you.

He smiled at your reaction, a slow, warm smile.

"Who knew you had a secret affinity for muggle literature?" You tried to make your tone teasing and demeaning but couldn't commit to it, you were too surprised by the force of your own joy.

"My roommate at Hogwarts was muggleborn. He gave it to me."

"You carry it with you too?" You asked, still in disbelief.

"Everywhere!" It was a breathy admission, half a laugh, earnest. "I like to reread certain parts. It doesn't get old." He was smiling so big it was almost heart-wrenching, you did not think he had ever looked at you like that, eyes blazing with naked enthusiasm. Looking at you like you were holding some key, to what you didn't know.

"No one seems to know about it," he continued with a shrug. "I've been waiting for someone to talk with about this book since I was sixteen."

"Oh," you kept saying. You wondered if he thought you sounded stupid for it, or if he thought it was endearing. "There's this one part I think about almost every day. In the purple glass house, with the broken arm used to-"

"-To praise God and 'be done with it'?" He finished for you.

Then miraculously, he flipped his copy open, paper fluttering, to a sole, underlined paragraph. The very same.

"It's like we're speaking the same language," He whispered with an incredulous laugh, but his eyes were reverent.

You flashed him a smile, one that was glowing and real. You were holding his copy of the book between you now, like children with a shared toy, or like lovers reading a roadmap.

"What language? English?" You asked sarcastically, making a funny face.

But you had known what Theseus meant. What wavelength of sense that you two, alone, could access. How the world spoke to you both in the same ways, through the same channels of meaning.

Garden Parting was the only object you had from your deceased parents, the only thing that survived your childhood. It was a children's chapter book that your father used to read to you, quite a grim piece of magical realism about a lot of things, but mostly about a girl condemned to go back to her burning house and stay there, inside, until the flames went out. There's no question that it will be swallowed whole, that she will burn to death in the place she was born.

When Theseus spoke again his eyes were shining, perceptively.

"Is that you then?" His voice was subdued, made gentle, intentionally. His eyes looked strangely dark inside the black stone interior of the Ministry, blue like river slate, dim like rain. "The main character, that's you?"

It was the most you'd ever revealed. It was a single, quiet word.

"Yes," you said.

Theseus placed a hand on your forearm. You didn't dare move, react, for fear he would stop touching you. A bird on your windowsill.

"I'll be the great owl then," he said. "The one that takes her away at the end.... Or Reggie, the one that's her friend. Whatever you want."

You laughed, bleakly. You felt pressured to speak, nonsense, anything to cover up how much his words meant to you.

"Really," you said. "It's my favorite book, but sometimes I can hardly get through it, there's so much pain in her life. I get so anxious..."

"Here," Theseus plucked a ribbon from his suitcase and flipped open your copy of the book. He placed the ribbon strategically towards the back, surgically almost, his long fingers lining it up with the interior spine, right in the scene where the owl takes the girl away and there's happiness set aside for her in life, after all.

"I'll mark it with this," he said. Neither of you were looking at each other anymore, the moment was too intimate to bear. But you were both thinking of each other, talking to each other. "So you can remember how it ends."

-----

The memory of that day by the fountain is so unexpected that it is the first time you're remembering it at all.

'Maybe he does know me after all, does see me.'

The thought is a shattering one.

'Oh, god.'

You check the time. It's 6:50pm. You pull on your coat and snatch your purse off the desk. If you leave now, right now, you can intercept him.

Theseus has to know you're coming. Even if you don't make it onto the train, he has to see your face on the platform, through the window, even. He has to know that you're choosing him.

You apparate as far as you're able and begin to run towards the station the rest of the way.

You're coming for him, each pounding step you're coming, heart soaring, this is that freeing love that grows and grows and stretches out into space like air. And you're going to tell him everything, every wish and every nightmare, you're going to--

A hand shoots out and pulls you backward by the neck. The grip is so hard that you taste blood, everywhere, in your mouth.

You yelp but the sound is lost as you are torn through the air, choking through space. Being forcibly apparated always feels like choking, like being pushed down a flight of stairs repeatedly. You can't catch your breath or your footing, you don't know where you're being taken.

Dark material whooshes and cuts around you. You hardly feel a thing.

Could someone at the Ministry have seen the letters left on your desk? Read them? Were you and Theseus positively identified at the gala in Berlin, or maybe outside the mausoleum? Before you've even arrived at your captor's destination, your mind whirls helplessly, to Grindelwald, to the situation at hand, and then, finally, to Theseus, who is waiting at Platform 9 3/4 for a girl who will never arrive, for a girl he will assume is telling him "no."

It happened so fast you didn't even have the time to turn around, to touch your wand. You were apparated away, stolen into thin air, before you could even set foot inside the station.

---

part four here

authors note: yeah i did watch the last letter from you lover on netflix and YEAH it did inspire this fic and rewire my brain at the same time. SORRY this fic ended on a cliffhanger and was so long!! we just had a LOT of ground to cover, but the subsequent parts should be back to the normal length!!

i like writing a mix of smut and romance plot but let me know if you prefer one to the other (also garden parting isn't a real book if that wasn't obvious) OK BYYEEE love you thanks so much for all the replies and feedback :))

also i have yet to read through this for typos so maybe! come back in a day or so for the final version?

taglist: @karashaw99 @gracieroxzy @mystic-mara

#theseus scamander smut #theseus scamander #theseus #theseus x reader #theseus scamander x reader #fantastic beasts #fbawtft #hp fanfic #hp fic

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writingquestionsanswered · 9 days

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Distancing Character from Person of Same Name

Anonymous asked: I'm writing a fanfiction about an obscure pairing, and some time ago I met a person who has the same name as one of the characters, and now writing about this pairing makes me a little uncomfortable. It's a pretty common name, but I also see this person quite often and it's just weird for me. Do you have any advice so I can separate the character and the person in my head?

Here are some things you could try to distance this character from the person you know in real life who has the same name:

1 - Keep a Character Visual Handy - If you're writing fan-fiction about a canon character, you can search for promo pictures of the character. Or, if it's an OC or an original fiction character, you can try casting the character (see guide here: Guide: Casting Your Characters) with a real actor/model to help you visualize them. Try printing the picture out and tacking it up someplace where you can see it while you write. You could also keep it open on your phone, laptop screen, etc. This will help keep the character fresh in your mind as you write.

2 - Watch Clips or a Character Tribute - If you're writing fan-fiction and you're writing canon characters, odds are good there are clips or even fan-made character tributes of this character on YouTube. Watching some clips or a character tribute before you write is another great way to make sure the character is fresh in your head, rather than the person you know who shares their name. If you're writing an OC or original fiction and you've cast your character with a real actor or model, you could look for clips of movies or shows they're in that closely matches the vibe of your character, and watch those before you write. Or, you could put together some character aesthetics/mood boards and look at those before you write.

3 - Make a List of Differences - Try making a list of all the ways you can think of that your character and their inadvertent namesake are different. No detail is too small. When you're around the real person with that name, really try to focus on the things that make them different from your character.

4 - Change Up the Name a Bit - If you're writing a canon character, your options might be limited, but see if there's a canon nickname for this character you can lean on in your story that makes sense. For example, let's say the shared name is Madison, and the person you know in real life only ever goes by Madison. But maybe the canon character is sometimes called Madi by other characters... if you use Madi as often as it makes sense, that can help to create some distance.

If you're writing an OC or original fiction, you have more room to give your character a nickname of your choosing, and most names have a variety of possible nicknames. You could also try altering the spelling or changing the name to something that sounds very similar.

5 - Talk About It - If you're comfortable talking to this person about that fact that you're a writer, see if you can find an opportunity to share that you happen to be writing about a character with the same name. If it's a fan-fiction character, you can say something like, "Have you ever heard of the TV show ----? There's a character in it named -----, and I've been writing about her and another character, so I always think about that character when I see you." Or, something like that. Sometimes, just getting it out of your head (if possible) can sort of interrupt the connection in your head.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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orphiclovers · 4 months

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Ya ever think Pre-Scenarios Yoo Joonghyuk went to church / ya think Yoo Joonghyuk has catholic guilt?

You would never get asked questions like this on any other site. Gotta love tumblr. And of COURSE I have thoughts on this that I will ramble on in great detail.

In general, I always try to be careful to not accidentally project my western understanding onto things with a different cultural context. Especially in regards to things like Christianity, since it’s not universal and…idk it would feel inaccurate to ascribe it to characters who wouldn’t realistically encounter it themselves? Not that you can’t, but I personally try not to. That's irrelevant with ORV though, they literally made the biblical Garden of Eden be a place YJH has been shirtless in. So I’m just going to go ahead and assume that all the Christian motifs I find are intentional and fair game lol

I’ll start with your second question: KDJ’s the one with the catholic guilt, not YJH. YJH has something much more sinister going on.

He gets two main monikers in canon - ‘Pilgrim of The Lonely Apocalypse’ and ‘Puppet of The Oldest Dream.’ In ORV your moniker basically reveals what your ‘story’ is all about. These two names are supposed to show what Yoo Joonghyuk represents, and my thoughts there are…

1. Puppet of the Oldest Dream

He’s the incarnation of the all-seeing and all-knowing god that created the world.

What I’m saying is, he's a Jesus figure, alright? HEAR ME OUT. He is cursed to walk the world and suffer eternally to bring salvation to one man - at the end it's revealed that he willingly chooses to bear this burden (talking about 0th here). It’s that classic scapegoat story, bearing the sins of the world to save everyone else, but he's also choosing to do this, despite knowing it will be awful.

At the end of his regressions, when he breaks free of his chains, stops being a puppet, he finds himself lost and missing their weight. He had a terrible purpose in regression - without it, he's meaningless again.

2. As Pilgrim of the Lonely Apocalypse

He's literally called a ‘pilgrim’ - someone who goes on a journey to find god. Catholic guilt is about thinking you deserve to suffer for some perceived sins, but Yoo Joonghyuk already is in Hell. ‘Hell of Eternity’ specifically, which manifests with the Christian imagery of fire and brimstone. His ‘journey to find God’ takes him through a world of unimaginable pain and cruelty that he has to somehow find meaning in. (Both YJH and SP have different answers on what that meaning is in different points in their life. )

Needless to say, he has A LOT of imagery associated with religion.

On a more personal level, YJH is motivated by this ceaseless search for the meaning of his own existence. There's the extra layer there that he knows instinctively he was put on this earth for some grand reason, only no one ever tells him what it is. He’s cast into the world without memories and has to stumble through life blind, just like the rest of us. He desperately seeks someone who can tell him what he’s supposed to do, parent, god, prophet or anyone else. (Basically, he's an edgy atheist teenager.)

That’s why he never reaches his ‘▪️▪️’ - the cruel thing is that he can’t ever truly find his purpose, because he is driven by having an unreachable goal.

To answer your first question: Pre-scenarios Yoo Joonghyuk is busy trying to survive his shitty job and taking care of Mia. He doesn't have time for church or having a life or anything. All he can do is daydream of one day finding whoever created him and gave him life. He puts all his hopes on getting enough money to hire a private investigator and keeping this single goal in mind for years.

He will meet his parents and they will tell him what he’s supposed to do right? The really fucked up thing is, he does eventually get there.

The investigators give him an address, which he visits but finds only an empty house. On the way back, he has a little bit of an existential crisis and starts really thinking about it all. even thinks the classic YJH ‘who am I?’ Then, not even one second later, THE FUCKING APOCALYPSE STARTS. THERE’S HIS ANSWER I GUESS!!!!!

#when i'll die i'll have to answer to God for making this post. its gotta be blasphemy or herasy or something #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #asks #yoo joonghyuk #yoo mia side story #orv spoilers #my posts #i never know how to format my posts. should i put 'read more' for a post of this length? i decided not to this time but lmk #sorry that it takes me 10000 years to respond. i have to reread all of orv every time someone asks my opinion on something

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ripeteeth · 2 months

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Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Thanks, @danpuff-ao3! You’re always a treat to see on the dash and I hope you’ve been having a lovely break <3.

I’m always a bit awkward with these, both from an itching sort of discomfort with staring my own artwork in the face, and I think from a lifetime habit of denying compliments out of a feeling of guilt or fear. So! I’ve had a glass of wine (and an edible) and I’m going to try to kinder to myself. I might be in the mood to talk right now. (Honestly, that’s a good sign. One of the big elements of my recent writer’s block has been an inability to express myself in any written way, even tumblr posts and comments. Maybe this is why I hit twitter so hard.)

My five favorite fics. Not my five best fics. Not my five most popular fics. My favorites. Hmm.

5. blood, bones, and butter | MDZS/The Untamed] SongXueXiao | E, 12,443

“A relationship, deconstructed. Served three ways.”

Ah, Yi City, that deliciously painful Shakespearean tragedy echoing Wangxian’s romance. The specific notes of obsession, revenge, love, and grief that run through these three make me completely unhinged. I love the quiet service and stoic devotion of Song Lan, the otherworldliness and power of Xiao Xingchen, the unchecked brilliance and cruelty that fill up Xue Yang. The Yi City fandom is easily one of the most incredible fandoms I’ve ever been a part of, full of uniquely talented and deranged writers and artists who love to really explore the dark edges and nitty-gritty of these character and let them be their fucked-up selves. The appeal of SongXueXiao isn’t to make it better for them, it’s to see how much you can make it worse.

It’s two pretty classic tropes: a first time after meeting at a bar, and also a story told from alternating POVs. I really wanted to focus on trying to carve out distinctive interiorities, like their motivations, their assumptions, their fears, their memories, and allow the reader to draw their own conclusions without spelling these all out outright. I’d recently rewatched Rashomon, and I love how the understanding of an event can be so differently shaped by each person’s POV and I wanted to show their first night together in that way, moving the lens over the night a few times, before it gets clear. It was a really fun process to focus on and I think it’s one of my best pieces of recent writing.

4. in search of the wind | Good Omens | Crowley/Aziraphale | E, 27,112

After the World Doesn't End, Aziraphale is not returned to his body. Crowley tries to find a way to get to Heaven's fast-shut gates. Aziraphale tries to find his way back from the sky (and back in time).

I remember writing this almost immediately after the show aired, in that heady summer of 2019, when I feel head over sweaty heels for that charming demon and his delicious epicure of an angel. This is essentially how I saw canon going on, this is the headcanon of my soul. Maybe that’s why I haven’t seen season 2 yet? It was a pleasure to write, almost like knitting together different scenes, different pieces of history, like an extended version of the s1s3 cold open. It’s Aziraphale without a body, unmoored in time, turning up at different points along his and Crowley’s history, and realizing that his friend is in love with him. That his friend is heartrendingly in love with him. I love stories that play with structure, striking different chords each time.

I couldn’t write this kind of story again. This belongs to a very specific time.

3. White Light, White Heat | Harry Potter | Snape/Harry | E, 32,107

“In 1347, Benedictine monk and scholar Severus Snape goes to fetch a young man joining the abbey. In 1347, rumors come of a strange and unrelenting plague from the east.”

An AU set in a fourteenth-century Benedictine monastery in Britain during the period of the Black Death where the two men develop a bond through a special sort of crucible. Snape, as always, falls in love with all the grace of a cat being given a bath. As dark as the material is, this was a pleasure to write. I had so much fun describing the setting, peppering fun little facts like a Pop Up Video of Medieval History. I wrote this in a fever-fueled three weeks, absolutely obsessed with getting it down exactly as it was in my head. I loved writing the monster theme and using it as almost a leitmotif for Snape. There’s probably a literary term for that. Is there? Anyway.

2. the body as anagram | The Terror | Crozier/Fitzjames, Crozier/Ross] | E, 3090

“In the dark, it doesn't matter which James is in his bed. As long as Ross doesn't speak, the illusion holds true.”

I took the title from a passage on J.G. Ballard’s Crash by Baudrillard in Simulacra and Simulation: “Technology is never grasped except in the (automobile) accident, that is to say in the violence done to technology itself and in the violence done to the body. It is the same: any shock, any blow, any impact, all the metallurgy of the accident can be read in the semiurgy of the body — neither an anatomy nor a physiology, but a semiurgy of contusions, scars, mutilations, wounds that are so many new sexual organs opened on the body. In this way, gathering the body as labor in the order of production is opposed to the dispersion of the body as anagram in the order of mutilation.”

There’s something a bit haunting about the parallels of the two men who held the intimacy of Francis Crozier’s friendship. The name. The confidence. The bravery. The charming manner and handsome face. I love the idea of a Francis who sails out pining for one man and returns home loving another, switching between true love and placeholder. And I’m notoriously a slut for both proxyfucking and Gremlin!Francis, who just can’t stop pressing on the wound of his grief. It’s not the drink but it may as well be, for all this is good for either he or Ross, but Francis is a fool in love with a dead man and he does what he does to get by.

Something about this came together, from concept to finish, in a way I’m quite happy with. It was fun to play with concepts and free associate from them, focusing less on plot, but more on the vast empty grief in Francis’ chest. Everyone here knows this is a bad idea. No one is having a good time.

1. Revachol Calling | Disco Elysium | Karry/Kim | E, 35,321 [WIP]

“Somewhere in Jamrock, a church burns. A study in Kim Kitsuragi.”

Sometimes you just feel the next part of the story in your bones. When I first played Disco Elysium in 2021 it hit me in an incredibly familiar, emotional way. There’s something somber and hopeful about it. The writing is sardonic, dark and humorous. It’s nearly cynical but it’s cynical with a sad old smile, because cynicism is born through disappointment, and through not quite being ready to give up. I think we can all find ourselves in it, in one way or another and, like many, I’m hopelessly in love with Kim Kitsuragi, a wild creature who’s built himself within thousands of rules. I can’t play the game without craving his side of the story, his interiority, his history, so I grab at the little crystals of information, such as his secret love of Speedfreaks FM and his past with Eyes, and I try to imagine it might go. This is my sequel to the game and, more than anything, this is my love song to Revachol, a character of a city, and one that echoes vastly in all those of post-Communist country and family.

For some reason, this fic is extremely visual for me and usually in a Wong Kar-Wai sort of fashion. Think the saturated aquamarines of a neon diner sign. Think a studio apartment with cheap wallpaper and the yellow-orange flicker of sodium lights. It comes alive at night, when Kim is left alone with his thoughts, running out of rules to keep him safely in. I love that Disco Elysium has such a vast world to explore. It’s an endless playbox.

And this is also, in a way, a bit of an elegy to a belief I’d once held in a motherland, and do not anymore.

I’m almost done with Chapter 8, so hopefully it will be up soon <3

Tagging! @jaggededges123 @soft-october-night @wildcard47 @rcmclachlan @brawlite @zaxal @pearwaldorf @kiingbooooo @darcylindbergh @et-in-arkadia @itsevidentvery @iodhadh @iamwestiec @mia-ugly @laurashapiro-noreally @pinehutch and anyone else who wishes to!

#fanfic #on writing

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 months

Note

Hi!! Love your acc, it's really useful for fics <33 I was wondering if you knew any fics that elaborated on the morgue scene (the one where john beat up shrelock) bc i always felt it was very brushed over in the series and frankly i think it needed to be elaborated on more.

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, yeah, I think I've been asked this a few times and I've just not ever posted a proper list. So because I need a list for this week, here's all of my TLD-adjacent fics I found doing a tag-search AND from old replies to other asks! Hope you enjoy, and add your own if you have them, friends!

TLD FIX-ITS / AFTERMATH of TLD

BOOKMARKS

Bridges by sussexbound (M, 6,602 w., 1 Ch || Post-TLD / S4 Fix It, Love Confessions, Mending Relationships, Moving Back In, Pining Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Past Abuse, Shaving) – The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

The In-Between by blueink3 (M, 10,679 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Parentlock, Fix-It Fic, Canon Compliant) – Beginning in a Chinese restaurant and ending at the bottom of a well, what about the moments we didn’t see?

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 109,272 w., 60 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Sherlock/OC and Johnlock, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, 3 Part Story, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Introspection, Multiple Alternating First and Third Person POV, Separation and Reconciliation, Emotional Love Making, Love Confessions via Letters, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being. Part 1 of the Drawn to Stars series

MARKED FOR LATER

toasting to grief by slylyaddictedtostories(T, 181 w., 1 Ch. || Poetry || Post T6T / TLD, Missing Scene) – John mussing over a drink about (missing) Sherlock and everything (he) they lost

Reconciliation by standbygo (T, 221 w, 1 Ch. || TLD Missing Scene, 221B Ficlet, Fix it Fic) – A missing scene from S4E2, "The Lying Detective". The hug was beautiful, but I wanted to add to it. My mother once said to me that you can forgive on your own, but you need to reconcile together.

My Heart Beats For You by jalexandria (M, 1,212 w., 1 Ch. || Hanahaki Disease AU || TLD Divergence, Angst, Non-Canonical Character Death, Sad Ending, Drugs, Pining Sherlock, Hurt John, Death Fic) – Things go very, very badly when John makes a horrible mistake.

Sherlock chooses himself by thewallflower07 (G, 2,035 w., 1 Ch. || Post TLD / No TFP, No Parentlock, Dialogue Heavy, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock and Feelings, John is Not Good, Angst) – Sherlock is a physical and emotional mess after John beats him bloody during the Culverton Smith case. He visits his therapist, who tells him to be selfish for the first time in his life. When John appears with his daughter and asks him to move back, Sherlock has to make a very difficult decision.

Reasons Wretched and Divine by Anyawen (G, 2,218 w., 1 Ch. || TLD Fix-It, John Has Issues, Admissions, Apologies, Explanations, Conversations, Emotions, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Drama & Angst, Declarations, Suicide, Assault, Marriage, Death, Drug Use, Guilt) – In the aftermath of Smith's arrest, John faces his anger and his regrets, exposing his vulnerabilities to Sherlock. They find ways to heal together.

Antiseptic by LipstickDaddy (G, 3,599 w., 1 Ch. || S4 / TLD Fix-It, Unseen Moments, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional / Psychological Abuse, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Protective Mycroft, Protective Greg, BAMF Mrs Hudson, Requited Unrequited Love) – What did John hear on that secret tape from Culverton’s hospital?

It Is What It Is by SpookyPorg (T, 3,874 w., 1 Ch. || TLD Fix It, Angst, Hug Scene, Love Confessions, Pining, Happy Ending, Making Out, Grief, First Kiss / Time) – After the very traumatizing events at the hospital, and John's heroic last-minute rescue, Sherlock is recovering at 221B. Doing his part to keep Sherlock under strict supervision, John pays a visit to his old flat for the first time in months. Reconciliation leads to confession.

The Tragedy Of Us by LipstickDaddy (G, 3,898 w., 2 Ch. || Post TLD, Angst, Romance, Tragedy, Hurt / Comfort, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Miscommunication, Requited Unrequited Love, Ambiguous / Open Ending) – John reflects on his relationship with Sherlock while the man is convalescing in hospital— twice.

wires Series by highfunctioningsociopath (M, 5,000+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Post T6T / TLD, Angst, Hurt / No Comfort, Loneliness, Mind Palace, Survivor Guilt, Mental Health Issues, Drug Addiction / Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Sherlock POV, Missing Scenes, Introspection, Psychological Trauma, Abusive Relationships, Grey Mary, Withdrawal, Depression, Self-Esteem Issues) – The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, after all. It just so happens to be lined with self-destruction.

I Want to Hear You Say It by LollipopCop (M, 8,000 w., 2 Ch. || TLD / S4 Fix It, Suicidal Thoughts, Heavy Angst, Love Confessions, Suffocation, Crying, First Kiss, Pining Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Instead of making Sherlock say he doesn't want to die, Culverton Smith forces Sherlock to repeatedly confess that he loves John before his death.

The Waning of Withdrawal by LoloLolly (E, 8,248 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TLD Fix-It, First Kiss, First Time, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Sexual Identity, Panic Attacks, PTSD, Sherlock's Scars, Bed Sharing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Guilt) – Sherlock holds a weeping John in his arms and… does something that will forever change things between them. For better or worse. He fears the latter.

Slowly Suffocating by meet_me_in_samarra (M, 9,500 w., 7 Ch. || TLD Fix It, Suffocation, Hurt / Comfort, Whump) – Getting suffocated took some time. Enough time for Sherlock to ponder what went wrong. Hopefully also long enough for John to arrive and rescue him. Culverton Smith applied more pressure, impatient to turn Sherlock into a dead thing. A continuous story written for Whumptober 2023, following the 31 prompts for each day.

And Then There Were Two by NimWallace (T, 10,194 w., 20 Ch. || Post S4, Mutual Pining, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Angst, Grief / Mourning, Mystery, Cults) – It's quiet at Baker Street. Too quiet. It's been a year since Mary died, but only a few months since the events of the Final Problem, and Sherlock and John have fallen into a state of despairing and monotony. So when a case involving a vicious cult on the English Country side appears, they quickly jump to go undercover as Sean Harmony and John Wales. But how can Sherlock keep a delicate John from breaking? And how can John come to terms with his love for his detective? Most importantly, what really happened the night of the Final Problem?

The Death and Resurrection of a Beekeeper by shiplocks_of_love (M, 12,922 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || TLD / S4 Fix-It Fic, Sherlock’s Retirement, Sussex / Seaside, Brief Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Emotional Trauma, Angst with Hopeful Ending, Estranged Friends to Lovers, Partial Epistolary, No Eurus) – Sherlock escapes London for a quiet, solitary life in Sussex, exhausted after the whirlwind of drama following Mary’s death. One day, a letter arrives.

A Midnight Clear by khorazir (T, 13,120 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas-Carol Inspired || Post S3/Post-TLD / TFP Doesn't Exist, Christmas, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Magical Realism) – It’s Christmas Eve, and Sherlock is working. Because that’s what he does. He doesn’t need Christmas, or holiday cheer, or even company. He’s fine on his own, thank you very much – until a series of strange encounters on his way back to Baker Street makes him reconsider.

The Ashes on the Ground by 221Beloved (M, 13,545+ w., 5/22 Ch. || WiP || Post-TLD, Miscommunication, Pining, Depression, Angst with Happy Ending, POV Sherlock) –What happens after? After the fire has burnt down and left nothing but ashes? Roughly two and a half years after what happened at Smith's hospital, things have settled. But have they really? Or is it all still hovering. And what if someone whirls up the ashes again? An old acquaintance. Can something new arise from cold ashes? Something stronger?

Entitled by Ranowa (T, 14,023 w., 2 Ch. || TLD Timeline, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Paternal Lestrade, John’s a Bit Not Good, Sherlock is a Mess) – Lestrade draws a line, because he knows Sherlock won't.

Hope is a Subtle Glutton by isitandwonder (E, 15,753 w., 1 Ch. || No Johnlock, Sherlock/OMC, Racism, Aftermath of Violence, Happy Ending) – This is a story about Sherlock Holmes finally finding love and the happiness he deserves - just not with John Watson.

Angry Men by FawnHickory (M, 16,975 w., 16 Ch. || WiP || Post TLD Morgue Incident, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Self Examination, Big Brother Mycroft, Past Abuse, Sad Sherlock) – Greg gave John some things to consider in Destroy Him. John faces some uncomfortable truths about himself. Part 2 of the A Good Man and An Angry Man

What It Can Be by amaruuk (T, 18,310 w., 1 Ch. || Post TLD, Healing Friendship, Mutual Pining, First Kisses, Cake) – "Which is why we're all taking it in turns to keep you off the sweeties." With the help of his friends, Sherlock is healing from drug overuse and physical injuries. He is also trying to salvage his friendship with John with the hope that, perhaps, they can make it something more.

Hot Water Bottle by khorazir (T, 18,436 w., 1 Ch. || Post TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Communication, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Autumn, Bed Sharing, Developing Relationship, First Kiss) – A case in one of the remotest corners of the Lake District, a storm, an inn, a broken boiler, a room with two beds but only one hot water bottle, and two men who have a lot to sort out between them – all of this makes for a night to remember.

Contrition by sussexbound (E, 18,556+ w., 5/? Ch. || WiP || Post-S4/TFP Didn’t Happen, Rosie Doesn’t Exist, T6T/TLD is Canon, Year After TLD, Light BDSM, Soft Dom Sherlock / Sub John, Punishment, Light Bondage, Light Masochism / No Sadism, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Tenderness, Aftercare, Forgiveness, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Mutual Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Frottage, Communication, Sexual Negotiation, Sexual Tension, Spanking, Head Injury, Anal Sex) – “You’ve been tense ever since we got back, itching for a fight, all your usual tells, but why…?” The truth strikes like lightning. “Oh… Oh! You’re not angry at me. Not this time. Well—maybe a little. But mostly, mostly you’re angry at yourself. Why? For falling behind? For not being there in time. For not taking Wilkes down fast enough?” Sherlock waves a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t really matter.” He lifts a finger to his swollen cheek and cut eyebrow. “You blame yourself for this. And you offered to fix it. But I wouldn’t let you, and… But that’s not what you really want, anyway, is it?” John looks stunned, a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming lorry, frozen, waiting for the lethal strike. “You don’t want me to let you help. At least not right away. No. What you want, what you really want is—punishment.”

The Nearer Your Destination by Silvergirl (E, 18,949 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TLD, Established Relationship, Wedding, Venice Honeymoon, Parentlock, Jealousy) – After a December wedding, Sherlock takes John to Venice for a February honeymoon. It's absolutely perfect, up until the moment he hears John growl, "What the hell is Zanardi doing here?" Part 4 of the Drawn to Stars series

Repentance by LollipopCop (E, 19,782 w., 2 Ch. || Post-TLD/Post S4 Fix It, Not TFP-Compliant, John-Centric, Angst, Self-Loathing, Hugging, First Kiss/Time, Rosie, Love Confessions, Crying, John’s Issues) – John cannot understand why Sherlock even wants to look at him after the horrible way he acted, and his guilt is destroying him. Why doesn’t Sherlock snap at him, scream at him, treat him the way he deserves?

The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Misfortune by Sherlockwatsonholmesblog (M, 20,455+ w., 4/7 Ch || Post TLD, Five Stages of Grief, Estranged Friends to Lovers, Implied / Referenced Suicide, Self Hatred, Slow Burn, Emotional Trauma, Recovery) – There seems to be something tragic in a friendship so coloured by romance, for they have loved each other immensely. However, Some Days, love isn’t enough. Sherlock and John persevering, as always.

Becoming Us (A reunion in three parts) by addicted2hugh (E, 23,207 w., 3 Ch. || S4 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, First Time, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Light Parentlock, Bottom Sherlock, Self-Harm, Drug Addiction, Sherlock is a Mess) – After watching Mary's last message, Sherlock and John try to be the "Baker Street Boys" again. Rebuilding the destroyed flat is the easy part. Will they manage to rebuild their friendship as well? And what did Mary mean when she said: "And if I'm gone, I know what you could become."?

Danger Nights by khorazir (T, 23,591 w., 3 Ch. || Post-TLD, Friends to Lovers, Mentioned Parentlock, Pining, First Kiss/Time, Winter, Folklore, Wales, Spooky Elements, Bed Sharing, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Spooky Elements) – According to folklore, the nights between Christmas and Twelfth Night are the most dangerous of the year. During them, the Wild Hunt rides, and ghosts and demons come out to haunt unsuspecting and misbehaving folk. An investigation of a series of strange occurrences leads John and Sherlock to Hay-on-Wye on the Welsh Marches, to face ghosts weird and ancient as well as close and personal – and perhaps to start the new year on a more hopeful note than the previous one.

the silence of your words by dyingofangst (E, 27,326 w., 6 Ch. || Post TLD / TFP Isn’t Canon, Case Fic, Estranged Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Night Conversations, Self-Esteem Issues) – Three years after John decided to distance himself from Sherlock, Rosie is kidnapped and John asks for Sherlock's help. But they're not what they used to be, and even if they learned how to heal on their own, there are still many things left unsaid between them, things they'll have to put aside to focus on finding Rosie, while both hoping it's not too late.

under the burden of solitude by subtext-is-my-division (E, 27,947 w., 5 Ch. || S3/S4 Fix It/Post TLD, Angst, Grief/Mourning, First Kiss, Mentions of Rape, Hurt/Comfort, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Fantasies, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Suicidal Thoughts Mentions, Five and Ones) – Five times they shared a bed platonically, and one time they didn't.

Entangled by missselene (E, 29,044 w., 13 Ch. || Original Male Character, One-Sided Johnlock, Online Dating, Lonely Sherlock, Dancing, First Kiss, Oblivious John, Dev. Rel., Jealous John) – Sherlock knows John will never return his feelings. So what if he decided to look for love elsewhere? Part 1 of the Sherlock & Sanjay series

Lessons in Astronomy Series by CaitlinFairchild (E, 31,164 w. across 3 stories || Angst, Post S3, Grief/Mourning, Mildly DubCon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Oral/Anal Sex, Unrequited Love, Pining, Sibling Incest (No Actual Holmescest), Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, Drug Addiction, Romance, Dev. Rel., Trust Issues, Happy Ending) – In a different time, a more naive time, Sherlock thought he was the star and John the satellite, circling him in worshipful orbit. He knows now that was never true. John was always the sun, bright and fierce, and Sherlock was the pale, cold moon, his only heat coming from the light he reflected. And then his sun went into supernova. Moriarty said he would burn him and he has, and John is the fire, his rage and grief incinerating Sherlock, burning the heart out of him in the end, turning him into nothing but cinder and ash. And now the supernova is collapsing, a black hole born where there was once warmth and heat and love, and Sherlock is being pulled down, down past the event horizon, into the endless frozen void where nothing can ever escape.

A Case for Domestic Propinquity by SilentAuror (E, 32,308 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TFP / Post S4 Fix It, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Domesticity) – As Sherlock and John renovate Baker Street with Rosie underfoot, Sherlock can't help but wondering how he could possibly convince John to just stay indefinitely... [TRANSLATIONS: 中文-普通话國語] | Русский]

Afghan Bullets, Beards, and Unlocked Bedroom Doors Series by addicted2hugh (E, 38,761+ w. across 2 works || WiP || Post-S4, Bearded John, Porn With Feelings, Friends to Lovers, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, References to Canon, Flashbacks, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Use, References to Suicide, Grief/Mourning, Top Sherlock, Reunion) – Set after series 4. The boys are living together again, and John's new style drives Sherlock crazy. He's trying to keep his besotted heart and over-excited libido a secret, but John has other plans. Lots. Of. SEX. And love.

A Thing With Peas by khorazir (M, 39,5537 w., 3 Ch. || Post-S3/Post-TLD/TFP Doesn't Exist, Fluff and Angst, Communication, Demisexual Sherlock, Asexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Idiots in Love, Friends to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Parentlock, First Kiss) – Sherlock does the laundry. John cooks a thing with peas. They talk. Finally.

Limerence by SherlockWatson_Holmes (NR, 41,763 w., 17 Ch. || S4 / TLD Fix It, Character Death, Drug Use, Slow Burn, Angst with Happy Ending) – Limerence (noun); The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person: typically characterised by a strong desire to maintain a relationship with the object of love and have one’s feelings reciprocated. S4 fix-it, starting on the tarmac.

Nocturne by SilentAuror (E, 47,927 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4 / S4 Fix It, Trauma, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, POV John, Sherlock Whump) – When Sherlock is injured at a crime, an avalanche of suppressed trauma opens up. John ends up moving into his bedroom to ward off the nightmares, hoping against hope that this arrangement can last indefinitely. This is a story of nights spent together, trauma recovery, and John finally learning some truths long hidden.

The Night Is Darkest by missselene (E, 48,461 w., 8 Ch. || Post-TLD, Extremely Dub Con, S4 Rage Monster John, Insecure Sherlock, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Exploration, Healing, Self Care, Self Acceptance, Sexual Exploration, Casual Sex, Gentle Sex, Sherlock/OMC, Threesome with 2 OMCs, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Communication, Internalized Homophobia, Relationship Negotiation) – Sherlock Holmes would do anything for John Watson... and that includes letting John do whatever he wants to him. What would it take for Sherlock to stand up for himself and finally start taking care of his own needs?

Borrowed Ghosts by DiscordantWords (M, 57,216 w., 10 Ch. || TLD Divergence / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Minor Lestrolly, Pining Sherlock, John’s a Mess, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Ghost Mary, Guilt, Forgiveness, Drinking, No Hug Scene) – In the aftermath of the Culverton Smith case, John spent one painfully stilted afternoon hanging out with Sherlock. He counted the minutes, finished his tea, and left for home without ever clearing the air between them.And once he'd left, he found it very hard to go back.

Lost In A Good Book by khorazir (M, 68,552 w., 6 Ch. || Magical Realism / Discworld Elements || Post TLD, Miscommunication, L-Space, Developing Relationship, Parentlock, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Bookshop) – After chasing a criminal into a poky second-hand bookshop, John and Sherlock find themselves not only stuck in the building, but in L-space itself. With things still raw and unsettled between them after the events surrounding the Culverton Smith case, this adds another dimension to their predicament, which not only constitutes of finding a way out of the shop (while avoiding getting murdered by the criminal), but also to finally address the issues between them.

This Would Make You Happy? by Ranowa (M, 71,217 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TLD Fix It, Past Viclock, Past Sherlock/OMC, Therapy, Protective John, Drug Use, Pining, Autistic Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending) – John, more than anything else, wants Sherlock to be happy. Sherlock, more than anything else, wants to make John happy. These two goals are not as in sync as one would think.

"Merry Christmas" I wrapped it up and sent it with a note saying "I love you" by starrysummernights (E, 135,132+ w., 30/31 Ch. || WIP || Post S4, Slow Burn, Mary is Not Nice, Christmas, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Parentlock, Past Torture / Rape) – John has moved back into 221B with his daughter Rosie after Mary was killed, but things are not exactly comfortable between him and Sherlock. After everything that has happened, they are trying to become friends again...and maybe something more. What better time than the Christmas season?! Takes place after TLD.

Limitless Ocean by angel-loving-star (M, 150,730+ w., 21/36 Ch. || WIP || Post-TLD / S4 Fix It, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, John's PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Sherlock Whump, Alcohol Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Fluff, Parentlock, Coming Out, Nightmares, Panic / Anxiety Attacks, Dissociation, Alternating POV, Suicidal Ideation, Self-Harm Ideation, Internalized Homophobia, Closeted John, Angst, Insomnia, Domestics, Cuddling / Snuggling, Gay Sherlock) – Sherlock is recovering from the Culverton Smith case. But there are some things that time or body can't heal. When John and Rosie unexpectedly move back in 221B the day after Sherlock's birthday, nothing is as it used to be. Both he and John are treading on thin ice. It is only a matter of time until the first cracks appear. Until they begin to sink into the freezing waters of the ocean beneath, and are forced to face their demons, each other, and what has been lurking in the dark for far, far too long. Until it is only them, the promise of sky above the surface, and the limitless ocean flooding into their hearts.

The Chemist by TheGracefulBlueCat (M, 158,385 w., 46/? Ch. || WiP || TLD Fix-It, Drug Use and Withdrawal, Hurt/Comfort, Doctor John, Protective Mycroft, Sick Sherlock, Medical Procedures, Grief/Mourning, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Nightmares, Mental Health Issues, Victorian Sherlock, Asperger’s Sherlock, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Papa Lestrade, Drunkenness, Autistic Sherlock, Synesthesia, Insecure Sherlock, Angst, Sick Fic, Case Fic, Asylums) – Sherlock returns to Baker Street and faces detox. But he feels too exhausted and bad to go through it fully conscious, so he - once more - uses his mind palace to distract him with an old case. But due to his drug issues and the tension between him and John things don’t work as smoothly as everyone hoped they would, confronting Sherlock and all his friends with more of their demons than they would have liked to.

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. "It is what it is." John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #long post #tld fics #aftermath of tld fics #my fic recs

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radiocrypt-id · 2 years

Text

You know, I thought Ylfa was tragic and sad like all the Neverafter characters are in their own way, but I think I'm wrong.

Hear me out.

Ylfa's story diverges from the canon of Little Red Riding Hood when the Woodsman doesn't come by. But he doesn't just not come by that day, he doesn't come by for weeks. Unheard of. He visits all the time, brings wood and forage for the Grandmother, she'd freeze to death at night if he doesn't come by, it's part of his job or just a dude being kind to an elderly woman, enjoying the sweets or soup she makes him as thanks. But he doesn't come by. For weeks he doesn't stop by. And we don't know why, maybe he was hurt or sick, but we know he wasn't dead because the Second Story Ylfa goes and kills the woodsman. Can't kill what's dead. So he's alive, presumably doing fine and healthy, but he doesn't come by. The one person in the story that's supposed to protect Little Red and presumably the village people from wolves just doesn't do that. The one Ylfa is told will always protect her if she finds trouble doesn't protect her.

She waits for weeks for a man that never comes. A hero that won't save her because he's too busy doing something else. And while she waits, the Wolf waits with her. He doesn't chastise her, doesn't provoke and antagonize her, doesn't jeer or make fun of her for waiting for someone he knows isn't coming. He kindly waits in silence, watching over her in that tiny cottage. He's honest when she asks what happened to her grandmother, tells her gently but firmly it was the old womans time to die, but not Ylfas. Death looks this little girl in the face and gently tells her it's not her time to die, even as she yells at him that the woodsmand will come and cut him open, he's gentle and kind with her. When she demands he kills her already, since no one is going to save her from him, he refuses. Death refuses to take Ylfa, even as she waits for it, even as she demands it take her, Death will not do it. What's more, he tells her how to save herself, offers her his own strength, provides a way for her to be her own hero in this story. Hunger and despair eventually drives her to obey, and later she is horrified of what she's done.

Ylfa then runs home, sobbing, terrified, crying out for her mother, her siblings, her grandmother, anyone at all to help her. She's drenched in Wolfs blood, body trying to transform against her will. And what does she find at her home when she gets there? Besides a rightfully terrified mother and siblings hiding in the dark home? Because we know, in the story, that the wolf can take someones shape and trick people into coming close so he can eat them too, of course they'd be afraid of Ylfa, their presumably dead Little Red Riding Hood, showing up drenched in blood begging to come inside and dragging jagged claws along the windows and door. How are they to know it's really her? No one ever survives the Wolf. No one. Let alone one sweet little girl or her elderly grandmother. So what does her terrified family do? they try to kill the Wolf.

What's worse than all that? What's worse than them being understandably afraid of the Wolf at their door? The fact that they didn't have a funeral for their beloved Little Red. That they didn't acknowledge her death at all. They removed her place from the table, didn't make her a place of rest, didn't go looking for her or her grandmother. Little Red didn't come home, they assumed she died and they moved on immediately.

Something terrible and traumatic happened to Ylfa, something that effected her for the rest of her life, something that completely altered her. She searched for someone to save her, but no one would. She reached out for help and understanding from her family that supposedly loved her and they forgot her, attacked her, ran away from her in fear and disgust. Something changed Ylfa forever, and everyone she ever loved left her behind for it. Everyone, except Death. Death which did this to her, which whispered her name, gently caressed her soul, and refused to claim her. Death that told her she would be all the stronger for it, that being monstrous isn't evil or bad. That she can use his gifts, his curse, to defy him, fight him, maybe even stop him.

"I'm the Big Bad Wolf," Death says calmly, his hot breath warming her as he speaks.

"I'm Big and Bad now too, though," Ylfa whispers back, lips still trembling and face damp with tears.

"Then you just may be able to stop me, Ylfa," Death smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges "I encourage you to try."

Death wanted Ylfa to live. When everyone was fine with her dying, or preferred she be dead to what she became, Death wished for her to live. When even Ylfa has wanted to die or stay dead, Death lead her home to life, comforted her, encouraged her, forgave her for wanting to die before her time. Death was so kind and gentle with this sweet little girl, so honest in his answers, so soothing to her grief. He empathized with her confusion and pain, told her it was normal to feel the way she does, not just for the loss of her grandmother, or the abandonment of her family, but for what she's become. Because Ylfa is grieving herself as well. What she had been, what she could have grown up to be had the Wolf not come. Ylfa mourns for herself as much as she mourns her Grandmother.

He promised to take her one day, but only when it was her time, not a second before or after. In that way, she would never die alone, because Death would be there with her. The Wolf would always be with her now, forever and always. He would never find her monstrous or evil, he would never run from her in fear, never curl a lip at her in disgust. And Death, too, would never be alone as a result. Some of him is always with Ylfa, in some way.

I think some of us need this specific kind of comfort. Some of us need Death to look us in the face and say "No, not yet little one, try again, you can do it... Here, let me help you."

Some of us need someone, even Death, too look at how monstrous we've become because of what's happened to us, or how we were made, and be kind, and gentle, and meet us with such patient love as to refuse to let us go, even when we want to let go, even when everyone else has.

Ylfa met Death, and he wanted her to live. Death was dying, and Ylfa saved him.

Death met Death, and together they decided to Live.

#dimension 20 #d20 neverafter #neverafter #ylfa snorgelsson #neverafter spoilers #big bad wolf #death wolf #emily axford #brennan lee mulligan #short story #death met death and together they decided to live #neverafter gerard #pinocchio neverafter #pinnochio #d20 spoilers

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stephsageek · 1 month

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So, like most unhinged people on the internet (content creators), I had a visceral creative reaction to something I love, namely, The Umbrella Academy. I definitely have a love/hate relationship with some of the writer's choices, but I will always love TUA. I do plan on creating some fanart, but that'll take a while since my style can be labor intensive. I also have a billion story ideas swirling around in my head, including an extension on the show's canon ending where all the Brellies and Sparrows are reincarnated, and another that explores Five and Lila's 7 years on the subway, to another that will be about the 6 years between s3 and s4. Here's is but a taste of one them:

"Much Longer Than Six Years, Five Months, and Two Days"

Summary: Some people believe an affair starts when two people cross the line and become physical with one another. Five and Lila knew better. Looking back, this ‘thing’ between him and Lila had begun much longer than six years, five months, and two days ago. If either of them had been capable of being honest with themselves, they might have been able to admit, it had started from the very beginning.

This is my take on all the years Five and Lila have known each other from the beginning of Season 2 to the events of episode five of Season 4 of The Umbrella Academy. It will be told from alternating POV’s. None of these characters are mine, nor any quotes from the show itself.

Chapter 1: Day One

Five stood across the street, tucked behind the corner of a building observing his brother and some unknown woman, sitting in a car and watching the Texas School Book Depository of all places.

It had taken pathetically little effort to locate his brother.

It had taken Five a few minutes of searching his memory to realize the significance of said building and when he did, he had squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a tired palm across his face.

Lee Harvey Oswald.

Was Diego really that eager to get arrested again? Did he really think his hero complex was going to do anything besides get his ass thrown in prison or worse?

Fuck that. I spent way too much time and energy just to find your God damn corpse again, ya knucklehead.

Five sighed, trying to focus on listening to them talk, gauging whether or not he needed to step in before the no-brained-wonder could get himself into trouble.

“All right, here’s the plan: Oswald finishes his shift at 4:30 p.m.”

Five rolled his eyes. Is that numbskull fucking serious? What’s he gonna do? Grab ‘em and drag ‘em into the car?

“Once he walks out those doors, we force him into the front seat.”

Five smacked his forehead.

Beside Diego, the woman was biting her nails.

Five furrowed his eyebrows as he watched her. Who the hell is that? And why the hell is she with my idiot brother?

Five tilted his head as he considered her.

He had to admit, he could understand why his brother was hanging around her. She was very pretty.

He narrowed his eyes.

‘Very pretty’ can be very useful to someone who knows how to use that to their advantage.

Especially around blithering morons with ‘mommy issues.’

Five tried to focus on what they were saying, straining his hearing from where he was observing them.

“You’re gonna pin his arms, I’m gonna cut off his trigger finger and tell him he has 24 hours to exit Dallas.”

That’s your plan? Five thought incredulously. What the fuck is that gonna do? What if he’s ambidextrous, ‘ya idiot?! Five found himself blown away by his own sibling's ridiculous logic.

“That’s your plan?” the woman spoke his thought out loud, her tone mirroring his own bewilderment.

“You got a problem with it?” Diego countered with an edge to his voice, indicating his displeasure at his lame-ass plan being called out.

“Well, why don’t we just kill him?” the woman wondered.

Exactly! Why complicate things? Five found himself silently agreeing.

“What?” Diego questioned, his expression shocked and judging.

Five’s mouth twisted in annoyance.

He didn’t know why Diego was acting so surprised, acting as though the umbrella academy hadn’t killed a room full of bank robbers when they rightfully should have still been in middle school.

Five didn’t enjoy killing—never had. But if Diego was going to sit there and act all high and mighty while planning to kidnap a man and cut his finger off, Five was gonna belt him on principle alone.

He listened as the woman clarified that the whole reason they were even going after Oswald in the first place was because Diego thought he was going to shoot the president.

When Diego confirmed this, she replied simply, “Put a bullet between his eyes. Problem solved.”

Five found himself nodding. Clean, simple, straightforward. It’s how any professional worth his salt would approach the problem.

Five paused.

It was not, however, how any sane, rational human being would approach the problem.

It was how an assassin would solve the problem.

Five lifted an eyebrow, his instincts kicking into high gear.

How very convenient for some beautiful mysterious woman to somehow take an interest in his shaggy-headed brother, who had at one time had no more exalted words to say about the woman he had purported to love than she, ‘had great legs’ and a ‘cute butt.’

How very strange that this same woman would have the exact same instincts Five had when it came to solving problems when he had been trained for the explicit purpose of murdering inconvenient individuals since he was a toddler.

The Commission, he thought grimly. It has to be.

“Oh, no, no, we’re not going to kill a man before he’s committed a crime,” Diego argued.

“That’s stupid,” the woman said the same thing Five was thinking, so simultaneously Five thought he’d spoken the words out loud himself.

Five pursed his lips.

He wasn’t sure who this woman was, but at least she wasn’t a moron.

Five found himself snorting at her comments about Diego being ‘an open book written for very dumb children.’

He was inclined to agree.

Okay, so she’s mildy amusing, smart, and pretty.

Five rolled his neck.

Alright. Enough dicking around. Let’s go say ‘hi,’ to Diego’s mystery woman.

Five was fairly certain that this broad was a plant. Someone sent by the Commission to keep eyes on him and had apparently seen fit to do so by using bargain batman.

Well, there's only one way to find out for sure. I'm gonna have to keep an eye on her. At least she's nice to look at.

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfic #fanfiction #five hargreeves #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #tua s2 #five x lila #five/lila #fivela

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jeankluv · 11 months

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Finding you || Jean Kirstein x f!oc

Words: 5,8k

Warnings: fluff, canon & post canon, some angst, spoilers for aot, the female character has a name but her appearance is never described, Jean’s pov mainly.

Summary: Jean never believed in love at first sight, it wasn’t until she appeared on his life

Notes: This is a story that has been on my drafts for over a year now, and I decided to finish it as a goodbye to one of my favorite characters, Jean Kirstein.

Materialist

Months passed by and no info about Eren was found. It was like he disappeared completely. While they searched for him they also investigated Marley and the world, that was the mission they had until some news from Eren came.

As usual Jean woke up early in the morning, he went to the kitchen of the apartment he was staying in, none of the group were staying in the same place but they were close to each other just in case. He prepared himself the usual breakfast and once he was done, he went to buy the newspaper. It was something he always did, that way he could recollect information for the group. He walked down the streets of the city, it was early in the morning so there weren't a lot of people around, just the ones on their way to their work.

He arrived at the store where he always bought the newspaper. He smiled at the owner and paid for it. He starts walking to a nearby coffee shop, so he can get coffee while reading the newspaper. That’s until he bumps into a girl, way smaller than her, and she falls to the floor. Jean looks at her and tries to help her stand but, she is faster, and pulls Jean to her and stamps her lips against his.

Jean doesn’t move and his eyes are wide open. He hears some people running behind them, searching for someone. That’s when the girl separates from him and looks around. Once she makes sure no one is around, she tries to run away once again.

“Hey!” Jean stops her. She tries to free her but Jean is way stronger. “Hey! Stop!”

And she stopped. “What?” She said with an angry look, looking at Jean.

“What? You just bumped into me and then kissed me. And now you want to leave without any explanations?” He said looking at her and crossing his arms.

“Yes, any problem big boy?” Jean smirked, she really is something.

“Those people… were searching for you?” He said pointing to the direction where they went.

She looked in that direction. “Why do you care?”

“Well… maybe I can help you.”

“You already did that.” She said and tried to leave but Jean grabbed her once again. “You don’t know me… so why do you care so much?”

“Because… maybe I don’t know your situation but you seem desperate and maybe I can help you.”

She laughed. “If you knew what I am you wouldn’t be here, you wouldn’t be touching me or you wouldn’t even want to breathe the same air as me.”

Jean didn’t respond this time, something clicks in his head. Could she be a eldian too? So those people probably knew about her being an eldian and were trying to catch her and who knows what to do to her. This makes his blood boil, why it’s the outside world like this with them? He comes back to his senses, just to find that she is gone.

“Damn it!” He started ñ walking trying to find her but she is gone. Just like she appeared, she is gone.

Frustrated, he started walking back home. He really hoped the girl would be okay.

“Jean!” He heard his name being shouted by no other than the two most scandalous people on earth.

“You two really can’t keep a low profile, don’t you?”

Both made a sad face. “C’mon Jean boy, don’t be mad.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Now who is making a scene?” Asks Sasha laughing.

Jean lets out a sigh and keeps walking, followed by Connie and Sasha who are talking about going to the cinema, since finding out about it the whole group has been fascinated with it. The three of them arrived at the place where they usually met to talk about the things that they learned. The rest were already there, so they all sit around the table to talk. The reunion ends up with not much info or new clues.

“You seemed distracted.” Armin said. “You didn’t say a word during the whole time. What’s on your head Jean?”

“It’s nothing Armin, I was just tired.”

“You went out last night again? You know that if captain…”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Hey man. You know that if something is going on, you can talk. Right?”Jean nods and drinks from his coffee cup.

“Jean, are you coming to the cinema tonight?” Asked Connie.

“Yeah… sure why not?”

“Brats remember to be careful.” Captain Levi spoke looking at the group.

The whole group nodded after hearing their captain's order. It was early to go to the cinema, so they decided to hang out and enjoy their time together, pretending to be normal and not soldiers from the devils of the island. The five of them were on a bar drinking and enjoying the day. It really seemed like nothing changed, like they were still in their cadets day. Like all their commanders were still alive. It was nice, it was warm to see them happy, that’s what Jean was thinking while looking at his friends.

“Oi Jean!!” Screamed Connie into his ear.

“Are you dumb or something?!”

“I have been calling for you for the last 5 minutes.” Jean rolled his eyes.

“What do you want?”

“Ask for another round!” He said, raising his glass.

“Connie, if you keep drinking you want to be alright to watch the film.” Spoke Armin this time.

“C’mon Armin! We are young! Let’s enjoy ourselves! Right girls?” He said looking at Mikasa and Sasha, who until a few moments ago they were talking with each other.

“Yes, let's go, Armin!” Sasha screamed this time and Mikasa laughed at her friend's reactions.

Armin sighted, knowing it was a lost battle. “Alright, let’s have another round. Jean could…”

“Sure, I will buy another round.” He said standing and going to ask for another round. “The same as…”

“Disgusting eldian!” A man shouted, the whole group froze in place. “I’m calling the police! They have been searching for you right?”

Jean turned around to look at the place where everything was happening. There she was, the girl from the morning.

“Is she one of the devils?” A woman asked.

“Yes, this morning police were chasing her, and now she was trying to buy something here at my shop, pretending to be one of us!”

People started surrounding her and calling her disgusting names. Jean clenched his fists and tried to go to her.

“Jean… what are you doing?” Said Armin while holding him by the arm.

“We can’t leave her, she needs help!

“We can’t. If we do something they will suspect us.” Sasha spoke this time.

“I can’t do that! Sorry…” He said ignoring his friends.

He was being selfish, he was putting all his friends in danger and for what? For a girl that he met that same morning. What was he thinking? I must be going crazy. He pushed some people aside, to get where she was.

“You think a garbage like you, can keep escaping?! Oh no! You will go back to where you belong! Stupid slut!” The man said, grabbing her by the hair.

“Please… stop…” She said with hot tears rolling down her face.

“No you beg for mer…” Jean didn’t really think before punching the man in the face.

People gasped in shock and the face of his friends went completely blank.

“You…” The man said. “Who do you think you are?”

“I hope you can run. Because we are leaving right now.” Jean whispered to the girl, who stood next to Jean.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! Why are you defending that evil?” The man shouted. ”Don’t tell me… you are also one of them?”

Jean grabbed her hand tightly, she looked at him. “Now!”

And both started running, as fast they could, ignoring anyone that shouted for them to stop. They kept running for a little while more, until it was safe no one was following them. Jean stopped and tried to catch his air again. He looked at her and saw her down on her knees facing the floor. She looked so small, fragile, different to that same morning.

“Hey.” Jean kneeled in front of her. “You okay?”

No response came from her, she didn’t even look at him. Jean sighted and stood back, looking around once again, making sure no one was near.

“We need to…”

“Why did you help me?” Her voice came out, almost as a whisper. “Now,…. Now you’ll be in danger because you helped me.”

“Because I wanted to.” Jean said, looking at her.

“Because you wanted to?” She stood facing him. “Are you completely insane?!”

“Maybe I am but what I did, it’s my problem.” He got closer to her. “Now, come with me. We need to treat those wounds you have.” He said touching her cheek where there was a wound.

“I can treat myself.” She said, moving away from his touch. “You don’t have to do anything more for me.” Jean rolled his eyes.

“You know what?” He said, focusing his eyes on her once again. “I don’t care, you are coming with me, I’m treating that wound of yours, then you will take a shower and eat something. You get it?”

“But… you’re so stubborn.” She said pressing her lips together, making a thin line. “What if you’re a pervert?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m not?”

“No.”

“Then you will have to trust me. I won’t do anything to you, I just want you to be okay. That’s all.”

“You don’t even know my name. Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Then he looked at the left. “He would have done the same.” His words came out as whispered, difficult to hear but she did hear them.

She remained silent, looking now at his back. Why is he really helping me? She wondered.

She ended up accepting, because it really seems like he is worried and wants to help her. They both walk side by side, going through the less crowded streets to avoid suspicious people. None of them says anything, he just keeps walking, being followed by her. They both walked for a few more minutes until they arrived at the building where they entered. He must live here.

“You can make yourself comfortable.” He says letting her enter the place.

She nods and enters, the place feels comfortable and warm.

“I will go for the things to treat your cheek… you can take whatever you want from the kitchen.” He says pointing to the kitchen.

“Thank you…” She said and before he leaves she warns him. “And don’t forget, I won’t hesitate on killing you if you try something.”

He laughs and leaves the room. That girl…

“Captain Levi is going to kill me after he finds out what I did.” He spoke to himself while searching for the stuff. “Fuck, I really fucked up this time.” He sighed and grabs the kit from the shelves.

Jean made his way back to the living room and there she is, sleeping.

“I can’t believe her.” He whispered with a smile on his face. “You really fall asleep in a strangers place?” He sayid knowing no one will answer him.

He gets closer to her and looks at her face. She looks so peaceful like that. He shook those thoughts out of it.

“Hey stubborn girl.” He shook her.

She woke up startled and ready to punch him on the face. If it wasn’t because Jean had fast reflexes, he would’ve probably ended up with a purple eye.

“Hey! Easy.” Jean said, still holding her hand.

“Shit.” She said and took her away from Jean’s. “I fell asleep… fuck.” She whispered.

“It’s okay. You looked tired anyways.” Jean tried to calm her down.

“It’s not okay… I was reckless and I shouldn’t get so comfortable with someone I don’t know.”

“My name is Jean.”

“Why are you telling me your name?”

“You said you didn’t know me, well I’m introducing myself.” He gave her a faint smile.

“Still… you could…”

“I could what? Listen, I’m not going to give you in alright?”

“I… I can not believe that, you marleians, you lie so easily. You probably made a call when I fell asleep and the police are already coming for me.” She stood and started walking around the room.

Jean could see how her body was shaking from fear of the possible outcomes. He knew that telling her his real identity was risky, hell it was so fucking risky but he needed to tell her. Jean stood from the sofa and took her by the arm, making her stop walking. The stubborn, angry, defensive girl was nowhere to be seen at that moment, everything Jean could see right there was a scary, vulnerable girl.

“Please… I know I was rude and an asshole. But let me go… I… I need to go back home, please.” She started to silently cry. “I swear I will never come back, you will never see me again. I swear but please let me go.”

“Hey please calm down.” Jean tried to comfort her. “I’m not turning you in. I am… I am also an Eldian okay?”

She looked at him, shocked. What was he saying? No no no no if he was an eldian too, it meant he was also risking his life? Why? Why?

“Hey.” Jean spoke again. “Stop overthinking.”

“Why would you do what you did, you idiot?” She said and punched him on the chest.

“Here she is again.”

“Don’t laugh, why are you laughing idiot. You’re fucking risking your life for a stranger like me. I don’t understand, I truly don’t. Is it because I kissed you? You’re one of those perverts? But fuck… if they find out not only you are helping me but that you are also an Eldian, they will kill you and all because of me… Again, it’s happening again.”

Jean saw how something broke on her after the last sentence. She fell to the floor, crying and repeating, it’s happened again, again. He didn’t know what to do, he wanted to make her feel safe, to make her understand that nothing was going to happen to her or him, that whatever she was thinking was not going to happen. He kneeled in front of her and embraced her, she tensed at first but then she continued sobbing into his chest.

“I’m sorry…” Jean heard her whisper.

“Listen, angry girl. Nothing is going to happen to me or to you. I promise.”

“Don’t do that…” She said. “Don’t make promises you won’t be able to keep. Please.” She looked at him, still with tears rolling down her face.

“I will try my best to keep the promise…” He said, whipping her tears away. “Now, let me treat your wound.”

She nodded and sat next to Jean on the sofa. Jean put the kit on the table and took out the necessary stuff he needed to treat her wound. He had treated thousands of wounds since he joined the survey corps years ago, he knew how to do it but this time was afraid of hurting her. The wound wasn’t really that big but still he didn’t want her to suffer anymore. Once he was done he put everything back on the bag and turned around to look at her once again. Her eyes were still red and so was her nose.

“You want to eat something?”

“No. I really need to leave and go back home.” She said not looking at Jean.

“It’s already dark outside, it will be dangerous if someone sees you alone at night.”

“It’s… it’s okay, it wouldn’t be the first time I sneak out in the middle of the night.”

Jean thought for a moment. “I will go with you.”

“Wait… no no, you already did enough.” She stood following Jean’s footsteps. “You saved my ass twice today and you’re an Eldian too, it would be dangerous if a police stopped us and they asked us for our documents. We would be…”

“Hey.” He turned around and looked at her eyes. “Trust me okay? It will be alright, I will take you home, safe and sound.”

She stayed silent, observing each one of his movements and trying to understand why that man, named Jean and an Eldian like her, was helping her. No Eldian is willing to help another one if it means risking the little freedom they have and yet, the man she had in front of her was risking everything for her, someone who was an asshole that treated him poorly since the first minutes their destinies crossed paths.

“For more that I try to understand, I just can’t comprehend why are you doing all this.”

“Maybe you enchanted me with that kiss.” Jean passed next to her with a smirk on his face.

“Now you’re flirting? Is that what you want from me? To fuck me?” She angrily asked.

“Wait no no no no.” Jean shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong okay? It’s true that I couldn’t get the kiss out of my head, because it took me by surprise but I’m not doing this because I want to fuck you. I’m doing this because I think you desperately need someone to give you a hand. I’m sorry if that made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Okay… sorry it’s just that… it’s not easy.”

“To trust someone?”

“Yeah…”

“I understand but try to trust me okay.” She nodded, still hesitant but with a feeling in her chest that made her believe his words. “Okay, put this on, it will be cold outside and like that we can cover you up, so those assholes don’t recognize you.” He grabbed the jacket and gave it to her, it smelled like him. “It looks gigant on you.”

“Maybe because you’re like two meters tall?” She said looking at the jacket and then at him.

“Almost two meters.” She rolled her eyes and tried to hide the smile on her face.

“Idiot…”

“You know, you can call me by my name, Jean. And by the way, you still haven't told me yours.”

“That’s right but I’m not telling you. Not yet.”

“And what should I call you then?” He tilted his head.

She was about to respond when a knock on the door made her freeze. She could feel her whole body trembling. Did he lie to you? It was the police, he called them?

“Look at me.” And she did, those honey eyes were looking at her and for some reason she knew right there, that he didn’t call them, that he didn’t lie and that she could believe him. “It’s probably my neighbor, so don’t worry, okay?” She nodded and watched him walk to the door.

She saw how he smiled to the person on the other side of the door and how politely talked to them.

“Jean, I heard a woman's voice earlier, are you finally settling down?” Jean laughed, he wished he could but in his position it was impossible.

“It’s not like that Miss Aldrich.”

“C’mon! Let me meet the girl.” Jean tried to stop her.

“Miss Aldrich I don’t think that’s a good idea, she…” C’mon Jean think about something.

“Oh I get it, yeah you two were having fun, alright Jean boy, I will leave you. Hopefully this old building will soon have new people.” And she left.

Jean sighed in relief, he loved Miss Aldrich and was a good woman but he couldn’t risk anything at that moment.

“Bee.” Jean heard from the other side of the room.

“What?”

“Call me Bee.”

Jean nodded at Bee and she gave him a faint smile. Bee didn’t know why she was willing to tell him her name but something inside her told her to do it, that it was okay.

“Okay, Bee. We should get going, so you can go back home.” Bee looked at him, he was offering his hand. “It will be easier if we pretend that we are a couple, if they stop us I will just show my ID.”

“But you…” She wanted to tell him if he was insane, if he lost his mind. But Jean winked an eye at her, making her heart race.

“I have a fake one, don’t worry, okay?”

“Okay…”

Bee held his hand and they both got out of the apartment. Jean held her tightly but gently, afraid of hurting her, afraid of someone taking her away. They needed to be careful, but the night was already coming so it was going to be easier for them to go unnoticed.

They walked the streets, like a normal couple would do, not making themselves notice. It wouldn’t be true to say Jean’s heart wasn’t racing like crazy, he was nervous about the possibility of getting caught and holding Bee’s hand wasn’t something that was helping. He couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, breathtaking to be more exact. But he couldn’t think about her that way, no, he needed to take her to her home and then hope she would be able to live a normal life, while he kept searching for Eren. That’s what was going to happen and they wouldn’t see each other anymore.

Bee moved beside Jean, guiding him in the direction of her house. From time to time she would look at him, he was serious, looking around, making sure no one would come for her and not letting her hand go. It made her feel secure, protected, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. It almost made her cry in that instant.

Both of them kept walking for a little longer, leaving the most crowded streets behind, almost leaving the city behind. Bee stopped when they reached a small neighborhood, with old houses and almost no light.

“It’s here…” She said letting Jean’s hand go, feeling emptiness when she did it.

“Oh…” Jean looked around and nodded. “Alright…” he swallowed.

“I guess… it's a goodbye.”

“I guess so.” Jean played with his feet. “Are you sure you will be alright?” He looked at her with worried eyes.

Bee swallowed and blinked, trying not to throw herself to him and cry saying that nothing would be alright, that she was afraid and ask him again why everyone viewed them as monsters, why couldn’t see feel safe like she did with him. But she didn’t and she simply smiled at him.

“I will be. Thank you again.”

Jean nodded and they both stayed looking at each. Jean knew he should turn around and walk away, forget about her, forget about that whole day, go back to his life but something wasn’t letting him move, he couldn’t, he didn’t want to move away.

“I think… I will be heading home.” She whispered and started to walk away.

“Wait!” Jean held her hand and made her turn around. “If you… if you ever need anything, just look out for me okay?” She nodded. “Jean Kirstein.”

“I will Jean. Thank you…”

And with that, they both walked away, with a heavy heart and the feeling of a missing piece on it. They met for less than 24 hours but none of them wanted to leave each other. Bee for a moment considered going back to him, asking him to take her away from that place, for them to pretend they were monsters but she couldn’t do that to someone she hardly knew but desperately wanted to know. Jean on the other hand, would have everything for her, for a girl that cornered him, the girl that was so stubborn, the girl that despite looking so strong was so broken, if she only asked to.

But they didn’t say anything and they both saw each other for the last time that night. Bee kept surviving and trying not to get caught, while Jean kept searching for Eren and distracting himself so he wouldn’t think about her.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

It was April, Jean’s birthday, thinking about it he never thought he would make it to his 20s after joining the survey corps. But there he was in a small bar near the refugee camp with Connie, drinking beer and chatting. After the Rumbling and everything falling apart live has been going too fast, it seemed like they couldn’t stop for a single moment, the attack on Liberio, then the rumbling, then helping those who were still alive, try to find peace. Hell they didn’t even properly mourn Sasha, Hange or even Eren, like they deserved, back then. He didn’t even have time to try and reach his mom and let her know that he was alright. He even thought about Bee, did she make it through the rumbling? Was she saved?

Although he met her for less than 24 hours, her memory was still on his head and he wished he could see her once again, at least to know she was okay.

He turned around to look at Connie, who was heavily drunk and dancing, although there was no music on. Jean smirked, he was grateful he had Connie with him and to have these stupid moments with him.

“C’mon Connie, let’s go home.” Jean stood and held Connie’s arm.

“Why? C’mon Jeanboy! It’s your birthday! You are entering your 20s, let’s celebrate it!” Connie went to the dance floor once again, ignoring Jean and forgetting about everything.

Jean sat back on his seat and sighed looking at his best friend. It was good that at least Connie was enjoying himself, but it was going to be a pain in the ass bringing him back home.

He simply stayed there, looking at his best friend, while with each drink he wandered in his thoughts. Two hours later they were kicked out of the place. Jean didn't think he was completely drunk, but his head hurt and he knew that tomorrow would be a hard day. He grabbed Connie's arm and dragged him to the place they now called home.

“You seemed to need help.” A female voice spoke, while Jean was trying to open the door.

“It’s okay, I can do it.” Jean responded without looking at the woman standing next to him.

“Let me help you.” She said and took Jean’s keys from his hands. “I own you one.” She whispered.

Jean blinked, trying to focus his gaze on the woman but he couldn't, everything was double for him.

“I don’t think… I don’t know.”

“It’s okay Jean… hopefully tomorrow you will feel better.” Jean saw how she started to walk away. “I’m glad you’re alive Jean.”

And with that the woman went away, leaving Jean confused and with Connie already sleeping on the floor. He moved him and started walking to their dorms, kicking Connie into his dorm and letting him fall on the couch. He covered his face with his arms, trying to make the headache stop but it was useless. He once again tried to think about the woman, tried to remember her face, but it was impossible, his vision had been too blurry, but something in her voice had seemed familiar. Jean finally fell asleep on the couch and it wasn't until the next morning that he woke up due to Armin waking him up.

“You should try and sleep on your own bed.” Was the first thing Armin had told him.

“Mhmm… I know mom.” Jean grunted, scratching the back of his neck. “Fuck my head hurts.”

“No wonder why, you and Connie had some fun last night.” He said, giving him a cup of water.

“Not every day you turn 20 you know?” Jean drank from the cup.

“A woman asked me about you.” Armin walked to the kitchen.

Jean blinked and stood up, following him. “A woman?”

“Yeah… she asked me about you this morning.”

“She told you her name or something?”

“No, just asked me if I knew you.” Armin shrugged. “Did you hook up with a woman? Jean we are on diplomatic…”

“Wait what? No. No I haven’t hooked up with…”

“Jean hooked up with someone?” Connie appeared in the kitchen.

“Connie… you were literally sticking your tongue inside on everyone’s mouth last night.”

“Hey! Don’t expose me like that bro.” Connie cried.

Jean rolled his eyes. “Where did you see her?” Said looking back at Armin.

“On the market, she was shopping.”

Jean nodded and without a word he left, he started walking across the streets, looking for the girl he met in Liberio. It had to be her, it had to be Bee, she survived and she was there, looking for him. Jean kept walking, looking everywhere, but who assured him that Bee would still be in that market? He reached the end of the market without any success, sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration. He turned around and started walking in the direction of his house. Maybe today was not the day he was supposed to run into Bee, but they were both in that place so at some point they would meet.

“Hey big boy!” Jean stopped walking. “Are you sober already?”

Jean turned around and there she was. “Bee…” His feet started to move on their own and when he realized he was embracing Bee in his arms.

“Wow big boy, careful. You are much bigger than me.” She laughed.

“I’m sorry… I’m.” He broke the hug and looked at her. She was still beautiful. “You’re alive.”

“I am and so are you.” She smiled. “I heard you are some kind of hero.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. But… Bee I’m so glad to see you are okay. I…”

“Me too. I saw you a few weeks ago and felt so relieved, strange isn’t it? We met for less than 24 hours and only knew each other's names but somehow, I couldn’t keep you out of my mind and when the whole rumbling happened, I prayed to meet you again… Oh god, you must think I’m crazy or something.”

“No, no, I mean, I kinda felt the same and… maybe now we could get to know each other better. Grab some coffee or tea or whatever you want, I don’t mind. And only if you want of course.”

“Jean, are you flirting?” She raised an eyebrow without hiding her smile.

“I mean… maybe? Would you be bothered if I did?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Coffee sounds good.”

“Good. Should we go now or are you busy?”

“Now it’s alright.” She started walking.

They both started walking side by side, slowly and enjoying the sun of the day and each other’s company and presence. Jean was beyond excited and happy, to know she was okay and that she seemed happy, despite the whole world went to shit. He didn’t regret hugging her right after seeing her for the first time, he really needed to do it and it just felt right.

He never believed in those stories of someone falling in love with another one at first sight, he used to think it was unreal and stupid. That was until that day in Liberio, after weeks passed by he tried convincing himself that his stupid self only felt like that because Bee stole his first kiss, but as much as he wanted to believe it was because of the kiss that she was still on his head, he couldn’t. He really fell for her just by seeing her and spending some hours with her.

“Is this place okay for you?” She pointed.

“Yeah… it’s okay.” He nodded.

And they both sat on one of the tables of the coffee shop, Each one ordered something to drink and waited in silence until it was brought to them. Bee watched through the window at the people passing by, from one side to the other, while Jean looked at her profile and admired her beauty. He was thankful that none of her friends were around her, otherwise she knew she would have them making fun of her for days.

“So… how, how did you get out?” Bee turned to look at Jean after hearing his voice. “I mean, away from the rumbling.”

“Oh… it wasn’t easy but after that weird message, something inside of me told me we had to get the hell out of there. So we took the last train that was leaving, most people weren’t eldians so they had no clue what was going on, so it was easy to sneak into one of them. After that, when the… the titans started to show up, I prayed to be safe and we were saved. A couple of weeks later we ended up here and that’s it.”

“You said we, you weren't alone?”

“No, my nephew was with me.” She drank her coffee. “It’s just me and her now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, if it wasn’t because you saved me that day from those people I wouldn’t have been able to go back home to her.” She smiled.

“It was nothing, really.” He shook his head. “I’m glad, both of you are okay. I need to know something, why did you risk yourself back then?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you kissed me to get away from those policemen.”

“Oh that.” She looked down and smiled. “Something told me it had to be you. I guess it was right after all.”

Bee and Jean continued talking for hours, about everyday things, Jean told her about Paradise and Bee told her about her niece, her sister. Even when Bee had to leave to look for her niece, Jean accompanied her and continued listening to each of her stories carefully, without missing any detail of what Bee told her. Upon arriving at the school where Bee's niece was, Jean stood in front of her and took a breath.

“Would you go out with me?” Jean slowly spoke, meeting her gaze. “As a date, I mean.”

Bee's heart skipped a beat and she felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach. His honey gaze made her nervous and those words were making her even more nervous. With Jean she had felt security, protection and tranquility, but she knew there had been something more and her heart beat for it, she had liked him a lot. Very much. But the thought of never even seeing him again or anything happening between them had long since disappeared. Until a week ago she saw him again and her heart raced again like that time in her apartment. Bee licked her lips and looked first at her worn shoes and then at Jean's gaze. Maybe this was the destiny telling her that finally she was going to be happy.

“I would love to.” She smiled and so did Jean.

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