#I usually wait to post links once at least one person reads it on ao3 but my longer fics don’t get as much traction so I will not wait

[moinsbienquekaworu]

And now, by popular demand, the latest post in the series of me listing fics I have enjoyed reading: Kylux edition! (dedicated to @romanticvampire and @zeawesomebirdie <3)

Usual disclaimers apply, that is to say I have my own personal tastes & biases, I prefer longer works, I read a lot of smut + people write a lot of smut for this ship, there are very few kinks I won't read, I love omegaverse, and there's lots of fucked up dynamics for these two, so read the tags carefully before reading!

Obviously I'm not saying those are the only good fics ever or the best, just that I had them downloaded to my phone/in my AO3 bookmarks and thought they were at least a fun read. You're free to think I have bad or weird tastes, but keep that to yourself.

All the links work as of late june 2023, so if you can't see one of the fics, it's probably archive locked. Sometimes I add comments but sometimes I don't, and obviously I have stronger opinions about certains works than others, but it also can just be that my memories are vague or that the summary just sells the fic better than any comment I could add. The fics are sorted from longest to shortest.

Onto the list!

First, here are authors whose names I Remember, most likely because I dug through their entire AO3 to find more cool fics back when I was really into Kylux, but also maybe because I realised while making this list that they'd written a few works I like but hadn't connected to them before. It doesn't mean those are the only authors worth reading, they really really aren't, they're just authors whose names I recognise and who wrote multiple fics I liked! They're listed in alphabetic order.

– callmelyss/(a)roseofgalaxies

• From the Last Whelming Sea (42k, 10 chapters)

By now, Kylo might have recited the story himself, how it had been before, how there was once a mighty republic—or an empire—or both?—between the many planets. How it had fallen into war and chaos. How, in insolation, their world had changed, the oceans rising, the cities tumbling. How the people had changed afterward, taken to the life still possible under the waves. – Generations after the Republic, the Empire, the Force, and terrestrial civilization have fallen from memory, Kylo is a prince on the cusp of fulfilling his destiny as leader of his people, who live among the sunken remnants of the world before. That is, until he meets Hux, a cantankerous tinkerer with an affinity for technology and the old relics, who challenges his understanding of everything he thought he knew about the oceans, the galaxy, his family—and himself.

• And All That Road Going (38k, 4 chapters)

Kylo regards the pair of them. Phasma’s pale hair haloes her paler face; Hux’s eyes are dark, unfathomable in the shadows. The city’s lights glitter behind them, beckoning them all back, but neither spares a glance that way, at that luminous oasis. They’re both looking at him, expectant, and at the road ahead. And it would be much easier to do this alone; he didn’t want to involve other people, least of all two strangers he’s just met. – Kylo Ren, AKA Ben Solo, the son of a prominent California Senator and a mechanic, flees his past and the authorities, trying to leave both behind in the Nevada desert. Along the way, he picks up a cynical waitress and a sharp-tongued con artist in need of their own new beginnings. Together, in his father's '77 Plymouth Voyager, they find more than the road between the edge lines.

• My Baby's a Devil in the Bedroom (20k, 6 chapters)

“Oh, obviously.” Kylo let out a shaky laugh and ran both hands through his hair. “Wait, no, you’re serious. You’re a fucking demon.” “Well, yes, not to put too fine a point on it.” Hux smiled, clearly pleased with himself at the joke. “Or more accurately, I’m a succubus. A sex demon.” – Kylo has an unusual squatter. He's pretty fine with it.

• Monster, Lovely (8.9k, 2 chapters)

“Wait, what?” The redhead—previously with his tongue halfway down Kylo's throat and his hand jammed into the front of his jeans—takes a halting step backward. He raises his fingers into the grimy light from the bathroom window. No mistake: they’re glistening with secretion and glowing a faint violet as he turns them this way and that, studying them. “Huh.” – It was supposed to be a casual party hookup. That was before Armitage knew about the tentacles.

• Hesitation Change (8.2k)

“I—" Kylo says. Meaning to explain. Except he doesn’t know that he can. Account for the impulse just now, to go against this precisely coordinated spectacle, to answer an unposed question, what it would feel like to kiss him in front of the entire expanse of known civilization, and, perhaps most pressingly, whether his lips are as soft as they look (softer). – The Supreme Leader marries his Grand Marshal.

-> absolutely insane about this author. Monster, Lovely is always lurking in my brain. From the Last Whelming Sea and And All That Road Going altered my brain chemistry. The author made all the works private while I was finishing up the list and I waited until they made them publicly available again because I could not post a Kylux reclist that didn't link to them. Lyss (if that's still what you go by?) if you're reading this you changed my life a little and I don't know you but I love you.

– Camellia Cook

• Catch and Release, in collaboration with armoredsuperheavy (19k, 4 chapters)

Six months after the death of Supreme Leader Snoke, Hux feels like he’s all that’s holding the First Order together, but he’s barely managing to keep himself together. He’s stressed out and exhausted, unable to step away from his work long enough to truly relax. Kylo Ren is intimately acquainted with the feeling of being overwhelmed by one’s responsibilities. Looking at Hux, he remembers a long-ago encounter that helped him escape that feeling once, for a little while. He’s certain he could do the same thing for Hux, if only Hux would let him.

• Decadence; Or, Five Times Hux Tempted Kylo Ren and One Time Ren Tempted Him (17k, 4/7 chapters)

Hux is horrified to learn the depths of the new Supreme Leader's asceticism, and so he personally sets out to convince him that there's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself from time to time--for the greater good of the First Order, of course. A little pleasure might go some way towards decreasing Ren's famous volatility, after all. Not that kind of pleasure, though. This isn't a seduction. (Yes, it is, but Hux is the one being seduced.)

• Moonlighting (11k)

When Hux decides to visit a famous red-light district in search of a little stress relief, he’s disappointed in the selection until a tall, broad stranger in a skirt and heels catches his eye. When he gets closer, he finds that the stranger isn’t a stranger at all--it’s Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, selling himself on a street corner. It must be some sort of undercover work to track down a resistance operative--surely that’s the only possible explanation. There’s no way Ren could be doing this just because he gets off on it… right?

• masters of the fucking universe (5.8k)

Kylo Ren, CEO of First Order Peacekeeping Solutions, plucks his top engineer, Armitage Hux, out of his lab and brings him along to a high-class fundraiser to help sell their newest innovation. Hux is just trying to keep up, and not give away the enormous crush he has on his boss--which is made much more difficult when Kylo decides he wants some company after the event.

-> I keep thinking about Moonlighting, I would safely put it in the top 10 of the hottest fics I have ever read (hottest to me personally of course). I will forever mourn that Decadence didn't get finished, but the 4 chapters we have are already incredible.

– flyting

• In A Crowd of Thousands (1.2k)

Hux recalls the time he met Ben Solo, unaware that Kylo remembers it too. “It was Endor Day,” Kylo realizes. He remembers those parades, distantly, through the veil of another life. A hot, cloudless summer day and a cheering crowd. “Yes,” Hux says. “I didn’t realize it at the time or I wouldn’t have-” he stops, shutting his mouth. “Wouldn’t what?” “I suppose I got rather into the spirit of things. I was twelve. It was warm and there was music, and everyone was so excited. Someone gave me a free iced chocolate. It was the best thing I’d ever tasted.”

• Breaking Down Like Fractions (6.9k, 2 chapters)

For the TFA-kink prompt: AU where Ben Solo never became Kylo Ren, but he's still the same man who *could* have become Kylo Ren. He's prone to fits of temper, he's very strong in the Force, and... he's a Jedi. He's developed a soft touch on people's minds (because Uncle Luke is so disappointed when he's mean to prisoners, although Uncle Luke is disappointed in him anyway) and he's the Resistance's interrogator of last resort. And then the Resistance captures a prize: General Hux of the First Order. He's building a base somewhere that can destroy an entire star system at once. And Ben is the only one who can find out where it is.

• Reputation (15k, 9 chapters)

Kylo finds out Hux is an omega. Functionally it makes no difference -- everybody in the FO takes hormone control -- but every so often medical deems fit to have someone go through a rut/heat. Alpha/omegas are uncommon enough that it doesn't present real disruptions. Kylo is excited. He's an alpha, and has never experienced being around an available omega. Omegas are supposed submissive, needy things -- according to Han's old romance novels and Snoke's gender essentialism 101, at least. And the glut of porn. Subjugating the general sounds appealing. It turns out heat makes Hux mean. He's aggressive, hostile, and doesn't seem to give a fuck about Kylo or his fancy dick.

-> Reputation has been on my wall list of fanfics I like since July 2021 and the author writes great (that's the end of the sentence, their writing is great)

– imperialhuxness

• Brighter Visions (14k)

Then: Free-wheeling arms runner Kylo Ren sells illicit kyber to a disgraced general with nothing left to lose. Now: The Emperor doesn't cope well with lateness from his best clandestine operative. – "Kylo’s chest clenches, and he pulls Hux closer. The Force is glowing again at the margin of his consciousness, something warm and golden and alive threatening to burst out of it. Thirty years of life, and he’s been three different people: the failed padawan, the misfit criminal, and the Emperor’s one-man death squad. Only the lattermost has been happy."

• Love, Your Crooked Neighbor (11k)

When Snoke assigned Hux to bring in his newest asset, Hux was expecting some everyday Coruscanti underworlder on a low-profile Core World. Predictable. Routine. What he gets is a burning compound on a nameless hunk of rock, a confused young pseudo-Sith, and oh, yeah. Feelings.

• Super Fade (8k)

After Ben returns to his hometown from a disastrous first semester of college, his dad attempts to revive one of their oldest father-son bonding activities: picking out New Year's fireworks. His going-places high school ex is the last person he expects to find on the other side of the counter. – Over a gray v-neck—not a button-down, what the hell— that bares his pale throat and prominent collar bones, the guy’s wearing a leather jacket. An enamel pride flag pin shines on his lapel. “Oh, my god,” Ben breathes. “Armitage?” What has to be Armitage fucking Hux looks him up and down. “How‘s Yale?” he says, and adds belatedly, “You may set your items on the table.”

-> Once again, Super Fade changed my life, it is so very memorable to me for personal reasons. Love, Your Crooked Neighbor is an extremely fun read also, not like funny but very enjoyable to me

– Kyluxtrashpit @kyluxtrashpit (who is still posting about them even though it's been years, thank you for your service, I haven't read for these two in a while but I'll swing by for your last fic)

• Floss Me (2k)

Hux, Kylo's boyfriend, is aghast to find out how rarely Kylo flosses (i.e. never) and he can't take it anymore, so he decides to take matters into his own hands. Kylo's mind, however, takes things in a different direction, and it turns out both of them enjoy the rather unexpected results.

• Aural (2.7k)

Hux fucks Kylo's ear. (Yeah you read that right)

• Monthly Reports (3.1k)

Kylo Ren's tantrums are expensive, and those extra expenses always complicate Hux's paperwork. Rebalancing the budget takes time, time that could be better spent doing something useful. So, of course, he devises a punishment for Ren.

-> Now those may sound a little... strange. Especially Aural. And it would be reasonable of you to think "ew I'm not reading that" but what is life if you never read fics that sound insane and are actually also very good? Huh? You can check out the rest of their works because they're also good, this is just the few I had downloaded on my phone. Floss Me is more normal and I am still a little obsessed with it <3

– notlikelybutpossible (all archive restricted!)

• the Fall Out Kylux series (148k, 3 works of about 50k each)

Inexperienced alpha Kylo Ren gets stranded on Hoth with reluctant omega Armitage Hux. Guess who’s going into heat. Guess who has to help him…

• My lonely heart calls (37k, 3 chapters)

Irreverent werewolf Kylo Ren meets repressed furry Armitage Hux. They're perfect for each other.

• the Dick in a box series (8.7k, 3 works)

In which Kylo Ren presents Hux with his dick. In a box.

• Once A-Pawn A Time (7.2k)

Hux has seen the mysterious man around a fair bit over recent months – he's hard to miss, with his height and build, not to mention the scar that runs all the way down one cheek. Hux is reasonably sure he’s living out of the battered Ford that he often leaves in the Walmart parking lot. But he's never come into the pawn shop before…

• Yours, desperately (6.7k)

Ren discovers Hux has a secret kink. And, being an emotionally fluent, boundary-respecting adult, decides his new purpose in life is to convince Hux to share…

• Holding out for a Hero (3.6k)

When Kylo Ren emerges from the waves before him, Armitage Hux is far more interested in his cock than, y'know, the fact that he's a centaur...

• Tie me down and use me up (2.1k)

"I just think that Kylo's massive cock deserves to be edged or used as a dildo for someone else's pleasure. Preferably with little to no regard for the pleasure or satisfaction of the man it belongs to." (@ProteanKylux, 28 July 2021, Twitter)

• Oil and fire (2k)

Kylo, a friendly liquid blob monster, encounters a human hiking through the forest who entrances him like a flame entrances a moth. He wants to touch.

• Soggy Biscuits (2k)

Kylo Ren was not prepared to deal with a very drunk, very uninhibited Hux bragging about how fast he can masturbate. But... he also wasn't prepared to just let him win.

-> I'm insane about all of those but especially the Fall Out Kylux series, Alpha Dog and Omegalomaniac lives in my brain still. I also remember clicking on the AO3 email for Soggy Biscuits <3 Once A-Pawn A Time is weird to read once Anakin becomes your blorbo as well but the concept charms me so much

– sigo

• Homecoming (13k)

“Ren, it’s midnight,” Hux sighed at his infuriating coworker. “Get to it.” “I may have informed my entire family previously that we were dating.”

• Whitecap Violence (5.2k)

When Kylo had first wanted to bring Hux along, Hux had protested. Bad enough that the Supreme Leader was always off galivanting planetside somewhere. The Chancellor should stay on Coruscant. Kylo would hear none of it, and here Hux was.

• The One with the Eggs (4.9k)

Hux turned on his heel, but hardly made it two steps before running straight into Kylo Ren. He knew his face betrayed his dismay. He didn’t have time for this.

-> Eggs are not everyone's thing but when they're yours it's really hard to find good fics, thankfully this fic exists. Homecoming was a kinda strange but fascinating read, by which I mean I read it once years ago and I still remember it pretty well, and Whitecap Violence is easily one of my fave titles I've ever seen

– solohux

• Screaming Colour (38k)

For as long as Hux can remember, he's been able to see everything in brilliant, vivid colour. His mother tells him that it means that he's got a soulmate somewhere in the galaxy who's waiting for him and little Hux is excited to think that his soulmate can see things in the amazing colours that he can. But one day, the colour begins to drain from Hux's world. (Soulmate AU where you see everything in perfect colour until your soulmate dies)

• What We're Made Of (13k, 3 chapters)

On the morning of your 5th birthday, you'll wake up with a new toy beside you, one that is made in the image of your destined soulmate. Young Ben has a little wooden General with orange hair and a woolly greatcoat that matches his little cap, whilst young Armitage has a soft plush of a Jedi, one with soft dark hair and two brown buttons for eyes. The two boys are happy with their new toys. Their families, however, are not. It shapes them.

• Emergency Consort (7.2k)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is close to sealing a deal with a highly influential council that’ll help sway the war in their favour. The only issue is that the council only deal with alphas who are mated as they believe that they’re much tamer and more level-headed this way. All Kylo needs to do is pretend to be mated whilst visiting the planet to sign the agreement. He seizes the opportunity to offer Hux a promotion in return for pretending to be his mate. Hux agrees, and their courting begins.

• Pander To The Prince (4.7)

Armitage Hux is a pillow prince, leaving it up to his Sugar Daddy, Kylo Ren, to do all of the work for him in the bedroom.

• The Sixth Drink Instinct (2.2k)

Drunk student Hux spots his hot professor in a bar and goes over to him.

-> What We're Made Of and Emergency Consort were some of my first Kylux fics I think and I have such a deep fondness for them! Also just the concept of What We're Made Of is incredible.

– sternfleck

• the Arcana Imperii series (56k, 9 works)

Based on the “Duel of the Fates” leaked alternate script for Episode 9.

• Nestful (5.5k)

Out of everyone in the First Order, only Kylo Ren knows the truth about Hux: the General is half alien...and entirely appealing. Or: Hux builds a nest out of pillows and clothes when it’s time for him to lay his eggs. Kylo wins his trust to enter the nest and give Hux the reward he deserves. For Kylux Positivity Week 2.0, Day 8. Prompt: “Wild Card."

• salt & he was still hungry (2.7k)

“I don’t see why it’s so crucial that I share this childhood experience of yours,” Armitage grumbles, cuddling Millicent closer even as he leans back into Ben’s arms. “We’re adults. We’re old enough to have children of our own, if we were so inclined. Surely there are better ways to spend our time than in surrendering to nostalgia.” Ben only hugs him tighter, one big arm around Armitage’s waist, while, with the other hand, he pulls a pillow into Armitage’s lap and rests the open picture book across it. Then, with a last kiss to Armitage’s temple, he begins to read. In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf. - Soft grown-up boyfriends Ben and Armitage cuddle in a blanket nest and enjoy Ben's favourite picture book together. At least, Ben enjoys it. Armie, on the other hand, has many thoughts about caterpillars, child development, and their romantic future.

-> The whole "salt-verse" thing is fascinating to me tbh. Remember what I said about egg fics being rare? Yeah, this is My Egg Fic™ for Kylux (and one of my egg fics of forever across everything I've ever read). Is it weird that I have one, yes, is the fic deserving of the spot it's been occupying rent-free in my brain for years, also yes. I hate to say this but Arcana Imperii is the vibes I wanted for the end of another Kylux fic lol.

And now, the actual list of fics! Some of those authors also wrote other fics (cough cough hollycomb) but if they're not on the list it's that I just never read them/found it easy to pick a favourite, not that I think they're bad!

• Dollars to Donuts by ktula (183k, 24 chapters)

Kylo just wants to ask Hux out on a date. That's all he wants. Sure, he's been closeted since he figured out he was gay, and he's never gone on a date with anybody before, and also Hux intimidates the hell out of him--but how bad could it possibly be? (It could be 'proposing a celibate fake marriage to the guy you've been in love with for two years so he can get his inheritance' bad, Kylo. That's how bad it could be.

-> Classic, I can't not include it but it's probably super popular and you might have seen it somewhere (I don't know I don't look at stats or talk to people). Personally not only did I like the fake dating (love that stuff) I also appreciated the author including a commentary at the end of chapters, it helped me Get the fic and it was cool.

• Ad Augustana per Sciencia by Star_flaming (157k, 12 chapters)

Hux prided himself on being a man who managed to have interests outside of the military. His newest interest; history so old that many thought it useless in the modern age. And he could have been quite content, reading articles and books on ancient cultures if it wasn't for Kylo Ren, who seemed to have made it his goal to inject himself into Hux's academic pursuits when he wasn't destroying the ship through his apparent self-destructive tendencies. Or: Academia brings two idiots together and builds a new regime

-> I never finished this fic but the worldbuilding is absolutely insane and I say that with all the love in my heart. The concept of space children makes me foam at the mouth it's so cool and I want to see that energy in canon SW so bad. Incredible. Also love when there's Ancient History <3

• In The Days Still Left by carefulben (154k, 23 chapters)

The instructions are clear, but following them will take more strength of nerves and willpower than either General Hux or Kylo Ren could have anticipated. With Starkiller Base destroyed, they are sent on a mission that will test their loyalties and bring things to light that may have been better off kept in the dark.

-> Add it to the pile of never finished fics I should really really finish. I remember it vaguely but I know it was cool and good.

• Reach Out and Touch Faith by for_autumn_i_am and ktula (146k, 10 chapters)

New Contacts (1): General A. Hux [Finalizer] - Kylo blinks. Sits up, and carefully presses the button. It’s—fuck, it’s a professional holo of him. Full colour, instead of the wavering blue of the hologram unit embedded in Snoke’s throne, and General Hux has—General Hux has red hair, and green-grey eyes, and he’s so focused, so settled. Like he knows what he wants. Like he knows how to get it.

-> Okay I'm going to be honest I read that one because of the title haha. It might even have introduced me to the song, but I'm not certain. Almost no memories of it but it absolutely cannot be bad, look at that summary, look at those authors, I just know it's good.

• The structural fabrications series by kyluxtrashcompactor (133k & 3 works, 40-50k per work)

Six months ago, Armitage Hux fabricated a fiancé, never expecting to have to drag him to a funeral in Georgia, pretending to be something they weren't. The problem was, Ben Solo was everything Hux had ever wanted. Ben Solo had hidden his love for his roommate for years, thinking that someone as perfect as Hux would never want a broken soldier like him. But he was wrong. Sometimes you have to tell a lie to find the truth.

-> This series was so.... yeah. If you don't want to Feel Things inside your heart right now you should keep it for later but it's great. I read the first fic, knew I couldn't handle the two others right then, and unfortunately didn't come back, but that first work was insane and incredible and a ride.

• Beauty Beneath (Beyond) by dallystrings (104k, 11 chapters)

“You know Ben, he’s a disaster when it comes to planning in advance,” Hux laughed lightly, dropping his hand to entwine his fingers in Ben’s. “I’m Hux, his boyfriend.” or, the one where Ben really doesn't want to go home, and Hux is just trying to be a better friend. or, or, the 2020 newly edited version of Beauty Beneath (2016)

-> I like fake/pretend relationships okay!! It might not be the single best I've ever read but it does the job and it does it well.

• Suit Porn by for_autumn_i_am (77k, 9 chapters)

Armitage Hux has worked tirelessly to become CEO of First Order Corp's UK office, however his counterpart in the States, Kylo Ren, is the most infuriating man with whom to exchange emails. When Hux is called to New York to meet with Ren, he encounters a delicious man in a suit, who wants to do unspeakable things to him. But when Hux walks into his meeting the next morning, he's in for a surprise and the beginning of a relationship that is far more than just business.

-> I had no memories of this one so I went to read it and I don't think it's present-me's jam anymore, but it sure delivers upon its premise if that sounds interesting to you!

• Sweet Home Arkanis by Gefionne and minzimpression (68k, 8 chapters)

Hux is engaged to the man of his dreams. There’s just one catch: he’s already married to his high school sweetheart, Ben Solo. Now he needs a divorce, and he needs it fast.

-> Do you think those cliché hallmark movies are entertaining if not very good? Well. Fanfic version, ie automatically more enjoyable because at least there's no weird sexism. I'm selling it all wrong, don't listen to me, it's just really good, I have great memories of that one.

• There's no escape from my authority by The_Marron (67k, 20 chapters)

Hux refuses to go to Snoke like a schoolboy waiting for punishment he did not deserve. Now he has two weeks until they reach the Supreme Leader's quarters to stage a coup and take Snoke out of the equation. To do that he will not only need his crew, but also the loyalty of his rival. Nobody said becoming an Emperor was easy and pleasant.

-> I only remember the title but it is a really cool title. I think it was good? That summary is certainly making me want to take another look at it

• All Hearts Come Home For Christmas by aaelandair (66k, 8 chapters)

"Do you want to come home with me and pretend to be my boyfriend for a week?" Hux stares at him incredulously. "What the actual fuck, Ren? No." - Kylo desperately needs a fake boyfriend for Christmas, so his family won't be disappointed in him once again. Hux would be the perfect candidate for the job, except for the part where he doesn't want to do it. Convincing him that this is actually a good idea should be easy, though. Right?

-> Aand some more fake/pretend relationship! This one is really good at that trope and a very fun read <3

• Status: It's Complicated by PangolinPirate and sunnywritesstuff (61k, 8 chapters)

Armitage Hux is a graduate student working hard to make ends meet. To ease the financial strain he offers tutoring lessons. Enter one Kylo Ren, an apparently spoiled rich kid whose struggling to pass his law classes and is in danger of loosing his considerable inheritance if he can't improve. Kylo has everything Hux wishes he had when he was an undergraduate: Money, connections, parents who gave a shit about his education. Kylo asks Hux to be his tutor and what started as a side gig for cash turns into feelings. At first, Hux is unimpressed with the spoiled man-child student, but slowly realizes he can’t hide from it anymore— Kylo Ren does something to him that no other person ever has before, and to hell if he won’t indulge in that.

-> Didn't finish that one either, I'm a fanfic magpie and AO3 is full of very shiny jewels, but the beginning was fun

• the Kylux Animal Welfare AU (Madame, That's Not A Hedgehog & co) by GenerallyHuxurious (57k & 11 works for the whole series, 21k & 7 chapters for the main fic)

Armitage Hux is an animal welfare officer with First Order Animal Rescue, one of the biggest animal charities in the world, he spends his days saving animals and his nights home alone with his three-legged rescue cat Millicent. Kylo Ren's mother helped him open a private wildlife clinic in the hope that he'd stop causing international incidents in the name of animal rights. Hux hasn't had a date in six years and Kylo's been trying to work out how to ask him out for the last four. Now he might have spotted his chance…

-> ASPEC HUX!!! This is not a drill!!!!! He's aspec!!!!! He's demi!!!! The plot is also immaculate obviously but aspec Hux!!!! It touches on animal abuse so be careful, I know the last chapter really shook me, but it stands out in my memory and I love it a whole lot. Aspec Hux also once again.

• Dire Oversight by ezlebe (54k, 7 chapters)

“Thvala has a long tradition of binding political alliances with marriage,” Captain Pforn says, looking up from the heretofore agreed contract and folding his hands over the data pad. He has a smile like what he said isn’t absolutely senseless, “It is the will of Sovereign Andeles that you and Prince Gheralt fulfill this aspect of the contract.”

-> Fake marriages my beloveds. I keep reccing fics with that trope but they're all fun!!

• On Bended Knee by rudbeckia (47k, 10 chapters)

Armitage Hux, just out of an unhealthy long term relationship with an older man, is on vacation. On his first night, the complete stranger from the next room proposes. The handsome complete stranger with shoulders that look like he could wrestle a ram and hair that would make a poet weep. Armitage says yes. That’s no basis for a lasting relationship. Is it?

-> Ohoho I am insane about that one. The start of their relationship. The development. Hux's ex. I won't spoil but there is Something in their relationship that is different from what you usually see in romance and it's great.

• Young Couple Arguing in IKEA, 2016 (Mixed Media) & First Love, Late Spring by hollycomb (7k, 38k & 3 chapters)

Ren drags Hux to IKEA and asks him what he thinks about cacti. Hux does his best to avoid a full nervous breakdown.

"Hux felt like he had nothing left to lose and ended up back at the apartment Ren shared with his cousin and her husband, indulging in what he assumed would be a reckless one night stand. It was reckless indeed, but Hux was still there three days and approximately nineteen fucks later." Ren's POV on bringing a lonely ginger criminal home and never wanting to let him go.

-> ALSO obsessed with that one. Obsessed obsessed. It hit me right in the feels and it was absolutely insane and I am in genuine love with it. You can read them in whichever order, I think I read First Love, Late Spring first? It comes first in in-universe chronological order but that doesn't really matter. BTW, if you have not, listen to First Love, Late Spring by Mitski, it is also an insane song that makes me feel shrimp emotions.

• Hotline Bling by minzimpression (37k, 4 chapters)

Hux wants a dick pic from his recent hook-up. Unfortunately, he texts the wrong number.

-> If I was serious-insane about the others I'm silly-insane about that one. It's very very fun to read, at least in my eyes.

• What we want by mssdare (37k, 7 chapters)

Kylo is doing Community Service in a state-run assisted living facility outside NYC. He hates his job, his life, and mostly--himself. One of the patients in the facility is old Colonel Hux. His son, Armitage, is the most infuriating, stuck up man Kylo has ever met in his life.

-> And back to more serious-insane. I think if you read all the fics that Resonate with me you can tell what's wrong with me. ALSO! ASPEC HUX!! Yeah I have to shout it from the rooftops because I love it. More aspec characters everywhere. I love his relationship to sexuality there.

• On the Waves by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles (34k, 7 chapters)

Armitage Hux is forced to join his father and step-mother on a 14 day cruise hosted for high society families to network and debut their children to the world. Now that Armitage is 25 years old he is expected to marry someone whose family will strengthen the Hux business and if by the end of the cruise Armitage isn’t engaged, he’s in trouble. Worse still is the fact that Armitage is gay and his father would disown him if he knew. Resigned to a miserable two weeks, Armitage is caught off guard when he catches the eye of Ben Solo, who is on the cruise with his own family. It doesn’t help that Ben is exactly his type and although Armitage tries, he can’t resist temptation as he and Ben become close. For two weeks their affection grows in secret with one question remaining: what happens when the cruise ends and their time together runs out?

-> The plot is straightforward, the fic is fun, there's some Rey and Phasma in there too if you like them!

• Something About Volcanoes by betts (28k, 5 chapters)

“Think about it.” Hux makes a grandiose, sweeping motion with his arm. “The drama. The chaos. The rumors. The only thing better than a destination wedding is a heartwarming coming-out story to take the spotlight away from your selfish loved ones and their horrid pursuit of emotional fulfillment. Then you wait a few months, and announce it was all just a phase and you’re in fact happily engaged to…I don’t know, one of those body pillow things.”

-> Yet more fake dating. I just love fake dating. They're assholes in this one and I love assholes.

• fingerprints smudging the stars by TheSpaceCoyote (21k, 2 chapters)

For years Hux has carried himself with the poise and power of an alpha, his true endotype hidden with the help of fake scents and powerful suppressants. But on the cusp of Starkiller's completion, something slips through the general's carefully crafted failsafes and threatens to undo everything he's built up over the years. Hux has never been one to accept help, but with an unexpected problem mounting—not to mention the interference of unpredictable alpha Kylo Ren—he might have to.

-> Dope title and I have very few memories of this one but it sounds like a neat omegaverse. I also trust the author to do words good

• The Wildflower Prince by PangolinPirate and solohux (21k, 4 chapters)

Armitage Hux is an omega, locked away in a tower until his alpha father can find use for him. His tower is deep in the enchanted forests and surrounded by an impenetrable circle of magic, so Hux lives a very lonely and quiet life. That is, until gifts begin appearing upon his balcony.

-> I really like omegaverse too! Sue me! This one is neat and simple and a great read, it has Rapunzel vibes and it's fun.

• Caim by Eiramma (20k)

Hux is stolen from his academy bunk late one night and is dumped on the frozen waste land that is Ilum along with a small handful of his other classmates. Despite never having dreamed a night of his life, on his first night on this frozen planet, Hux finds himself in the body of an angry padawan, Ben Solo. As his stay on Ilum continues, it becomes apparent that pair of them share some sort of deep connection forged through mysticism of the Force, that permits them spend their dreams in one another's waking lives, and Hux has no idea why. But with danger lurking around every snow covered tree, Hux begins to wonder if he will be able to live long enough to understand the mystery of their bond, never mind deal with the growing fondness for the other boy that has begun to bloom in his heart.

-> not on AO3 anymore but I have an epub file if someone's interested, just hit me up in private! I love love love this kind of dyad thing, and I have a fondness for teen!Kylux.

• the Galactic La Leche League series by gundamoocow (17k, 2 works)

Kylo Ren’s jaw hangs loosely and his eyes are steadfastly fixed on Hux’s chest. He hasn’t moved an inch since Hux unclasped his tunic hook by hook to reveal a tight, flattening undershirt that leaves little to the imagination. Hux shirks the tunic off and drapes it over a chair before pulling the undershirt over his head. Removing it is always a struggle, but he manages with enough grace for Ren not to notice. He is topless now, wearing only his boots and jodhpurs, standing awkwardly in his room while Ren appears frozen in time with his eyes glued to Hux’s torso, surprise plain on his face. Hux frowns. “Surely you were aware?” Ren shakes his head. “No,” he utters, his voice weak as if winded. “I had no idea.”

-> Now I know what you're thinking, what is this, why are you reccing this, etc. Well the fic is fun to read, and it's hard to find male lactation without mpreg or children in the picture but the idea has potential to be really hot, so. There. Cringe culture is dead, live a little and try a good lactation fic

• Family Values by SpookMouse (16k, 8 chapters)

“Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad? I am a 28 year old felon with no high school degree, and a dirty old van one year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen’s guitar. I can play anywhere between the ages of 20 and 29 depending on if I shave. I’m a line cook and work late nights at a bar. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I’m game.” Or, Hux brings Kylo home for the holidays.

-> I think the summary just sells that one on its own. Look at this. Incredible Kylo energy.

• Unknown Pleasures by gundamoocow and hexgoldyloins (16k, 7 chapters)

Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux are rival employees at First Order Engineering, a multi-disciplinary engineering company headed by the elusive CEO Snoke. For years, Kylo and Hux have been at each other's throats, vying for power and advancement within the aerospace division. An opportunity to have an audience with Snoke presents itself, but it involves forming an unlikely alliance and going undercover…to a BDSM sex club.

-> Also reread that one for the list and hmmm yeah it's good. The BDSM etiquette could be better but if you compare it to canon they're doing so well <3

• Nothing but a Flickering Flame by leviathanofthesky (14k, 7 chapters)

General Hux’s father visits the Finalizer after Snoke’s death to pay tribute to the newly crowned supreme leader. Unfortunately for Armitage, Kylo’s sudden interest in him and the fact that his shipment of suppressants seems to be lost in stars-know-where doesn’t help the situation at all.

-> Hmm, good old Brendol bashing <3

• Reptile Husbandry by koi_boi (13k)

Hux is an accomplished researcher who's having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time in the field. He stumbles into a cave filled with secrets and one very large, very curious snake. Hux gets fucked in more ways than one.

• There's a Desert in My Blood and a Storm in Your Eyes by frapandfurious (12k, 5 chapters)

Hux and Kylo have been on the road together for over a year. They're free and they're in love. Until a ghost from Hux's past finally catches up with them.

• Give Me a Shot to Remember by decotex (11k, 6 chapters)

Everyone on the Finalizer has at some point had to listen to the General and their resident Dark Lord's flirting. They are not subtle. Someone points out Kylo Ren's soft spot for a certain First Order general. Hux contemplates this over vodka. Feat. heavy drinking, a ship full of gossipers, and no subtlety whatsoever.

-> I found a fave song of mine in this fic. The last chapter was an Experience and I re-live it every time I listen to Goodbye to a World.

• Lapdog by Antique_Mango (11k)

“I’m willing to listen to what the Supreme Council has to say,” Ren continues like they are having a reasonable conversation, and not like Hux is half a moment away from losing every last bit of his hard-earned decorum, “as soon as you sit down.” “On your lap.” – After his fall from grace Hux is barely keeping it together, convinced that everyone wants him dead (himself included.) Kylo tries to change his mind.

-> Oh yeah baby, amplify those emotions! Make them feel things! More!!! I left a loonng comment on that one because it fascinated me so much.

• A Whisper In My Ear by Ellstra (10k)

A minute reaction of Hux’s inspires Ren to suggest adding some spice into their sex life. Hux isn’t entirely certain what to expect but he’s definitely on board.

• Young Men at the End of Everything by partialresonance (9k)

Kylo thinks he can get used to life in exile, so long as Hux is there to live it with him. But a random stroke of fate suddenly throws Hux's life into jeopardy, and Kylo has to turn to an unlikely source for help.

-> The title is great the old lady character is great it's a good read and pretty memorable for a 9k fic

• an insult to basic geometry by brawlite (7.4k)

It's not that Kylo wasn't trying to summon a demon; it's just that he didn't think it would actually work. He also didn't prepare himself for the hypothetical demon that he probably wasn't going to summon to be so damn hot. And now the demon is asking him what he wants -- and the only thing Kylo really seems to want is the demon himself. That's within the terms and conditions, right?

-> Dope title, check, demons, check, I follow the author on here and am slowly getting into other fandoms they've also written for, check. (no but for real when I saw their name looking for Venom fic it felt like seeing an old friend, great surprise)

• Pheromones by EmberSH (6.2k)

After a blind date gone wrong all Hux wants is to have a drink and find a distraction for the evening; Best case scenario someone who'll treat him a little rough. Kylo Ren is so much more than that.

-> This was the hottest fic I'd ever read for a looong time years ago. Genuinely, it completely blew my mind when I was like 14. The follow up was less fun because I am Not a noncon person and I really really wasn't back then but it's also good. The fic has vampires, go read it if you like vampires.

• silk & heat by surrenderer (5.2k)

When Ben gets home, Armitage has some exciting plans for the rest of their day together. For Year of Kylux's "Omegaverse" week!

• A Decent Proposal by PaperPrince (5k, 5 chapters)

Hux is very happy not being in a relationship with his roommate and best friend Kylo Ren. But when Kylo faces deportation, they find themselves re-evaluating their co-dependent lifestyle. What is marriage really? Two people who is on the cruise the rest of their lives together. So what difference does it make if you take sex away from the equation?

-> ASPEC KYLO!!!! Not the best writing in the entire world, but the concept and aspec Kylo got me.

• Botanical Exercises by need_more_meta (3.9k)

Hux finds a flower on his bed. Then another one. And another one. For Kylux Positivity Week 3.0, Prompt: “Flower Language” with a dash of “Oh No He’s Hot.”

-> It reminds me of Dites-le avec des fleurs <3

• When Christmas Comes by Pizzzazlut (3.6k)

"Kylo bit his lip as he tried not to show Hux how much that simple touch was already affecting him. Because an Alpha shouldn’t want this. An Alpha should never crave for his sweet albeit feisty Omega to fuck him into submission like this, to make him beg for more with each delicious thrust." Or the one where Alpha Kylo bottoms for his lovely Omega.

-> People who do fun stuff with A/B/O dynamics are galaxy brained and so very right and I love them.

• What Couples Do by Mesmeret (3.4k)

Kylo likes matching with Hux. At first it’s socks but they gradually figure out ways to share things together that keep them company when the other is away. My contribution for the Soft Issue of the Kylux Zine Project.

• How Not To Train Your Not-Sith Enemy by humane (3.1k)

"Forgive me, master." Hux murmured, head bowed in shame, "I feel it again. The pull from the dark. It tempts me more each time." Luke arched a single bushy eyebrow. You? Tempted? it seemed to say. "It's Kylo Ren." Hux admitted. Sympathy and profound understanding blossomed on Luke's face, the likes of which could only be observed in individuals that had personally experienced the unique brand of disaster that was Kylo Ren. "Are you tempted by his chaos?" he prompted. "His unbridled power? His seeming freedom? None of those are the way of the force." Hux frowned, puzzled. "No." he said, "I'm just tempted to decapitate him." Or: In which Hux is an EXTREMELY uptight jedi knight and Kylo is the not-sith that gives Hux aneurisms with the sheer blazing power of his incompetence.

-> I don't know how well this meshes with prequels lore, I read it back when I didn't care about anything beyond the sequels, but the premise is great

• Blood, Bitemarks, and Stupid, Stupid Love by TheSilentUnderworld (3k)

Being roomates with an annoying Alpha Werewolf was fine. Until he started messing with Hux's mail.

-> Werewolf x vampire <3 <3 <3

• I'll Be the Sun, You Be the Moon by need_more_meta (2.1k)

Chancellor Hux is preparing for a ball. He enlists Ren’s help. For Kylux Positivity Week 3.0, Prompt: “Put It on Hux | Put It on Kylo.” For Year of Kylux, Prompt: “Duel of the Fates Timeline.”

• Sweet Redolence by Jakathine (2k)

What happens when the desire to best your opponent turns into a desire to bed them instead…and then fate pushes you together rather Forcefully.

• Rabid Curs by Potboy (1.9k)

In which Kylo, all alone in the First Order with a master who mistreats him, goes to the wrong man for comfort. Unfortunately Armitage Hux is all he's got, and he's not a very comforting person. They do their best - it's all they can do.

• Dirty White Boots by BlackHellKitty (1.6k)

A Kylux-story based on the song "Dirty White Boots" from Lenny Kravitz. Kylo and Hux do some roleplay sometimes. Just pure PWP without any kind of big story. :3

-> The reasond Dirty White Boots is a Kylux song to me

• Come Morning by elfriniol (1.5k)

True, Kylo liked Hux. A lot. He couldn't imagine his life without talking to him about Star Wars trivia and offering judgmental commentary for shows they occasionally skimmed through on Netflix. Or going out for drinks. But if Hux wanted something else – that proverbial, dreaded more – Kylo wasn't sure of himself.

-> ASPEC KYLO!!! Oh how I love it when they're aspec.

• After by Davechicken (1.1k)

Aftercare, and emotions.

• Living in Close Proximity in Case of Sudden Yet Inevitable Betrayal by 5ofSpades (874 words, 9 chapters, drawings)

In which the Supreme Leader gets himself two ginger roommates.

-> This. Is not a fic. It's drawings and I cried at the end like a BABY. The artist's art style is impeccable, it inspired me a whole lot back when I 'read' it.

And this is IT folks! I didn't @ anyone (except Kyluxtrashpit) because I only know a few authors' tumblrs and I didn't want to discriminate, plus the fandom is pretty old and I would assume most of them have moved on or are inactive. If you know that someone on the list would like to be tagged don't hesitate to do it/tell me though, those fics all mean(t) a lot to me!

Hope the list is good & you, the reader, find something new and interesting to read! I really don't know which fics are considered popular or good or whatever, I don't talk to people usually. Okay bye bye thank you for reading <3

[therenlover]

Therenlover’s Official Fanfic Glossary!

Hey hey hey! This is the place where you can find all my up-to-date fanfics linked nicely, read about what projects I have upcoming, and learn what requests I’m taking at the moment! Cheers!

This post is massive so, for the sake of your dash, everything is under the cut

A NOTE ABOUT REQUESTS!

I will do my best to fulfill any requests I get while my ask box/requests are open! That being said, I cannot promise every request will get done, and that if they do, they’ll be done in a timely manner. I’m currently working on a long-form project that needs a lot of time and energy to come out consistently, so unless I’m doing a writing event most of my writing juice will be focused on that. That being said, if you want something ask! The worst I can possibly do is direct you towards someone else who might be able to write what you want if I cant.

If I choose not to do your request based on personal preference (it makes me uncomfy/I don’t write for the character at that time/I don’t feel I can write what you want/etc.) I will do my best to contact you and let you know! That being said, if you think your ask got buried/forgotten, feel free to message me again and let me know, but please tell me when you message me if I should be looking for a prior request.

Characters/Fandoms I will write for currently

 💙 = I’m Currently Super Inspired To Write For This Character

Marvel/X-Men

Bucky Barnes

Loki

Peter Maximoff 💙

Pietro Maximoff

Helmut Zemo 💙

Hank McCoy

Ralph Bohner 💙

Vision

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon

Kit Walker 💙

Kyle Spencer (Pre- and Post- Death)

Jimmy Darling 💙

James Patrick March 💙

Kai Anderson

Fallout 4

Nick Valentine

Hancock

Star Wars

Poe Dameron

Armitage Hux 💙

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

Finn

Han Solo

Assorted/Random

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne - FGO

Cu Chulainn/Cu Alter - FGO

Warren Lipka - American Animals 💙

Enjolras - Les Miserables

Grantaire - Les Miserables

Gabriel - Supernatural

Imagines - REQUESTS CLOSED

Songs From Musicals Y/N Would Sing To The Evans

Characters: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Kai Anderson, Peter Maximoff

Rating: T

How The Evans (+ Quicksilver) Would React To Yoplait’s New Gushers Yogurt

Characters: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Rory Monahan, Kai Anderson, Peter Maximoff

Rating: T

Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Headcanons - REQUESTS CLOSED

Modern! AU Armitage Hux Boyfriend Headcanons

Zemo With A Well Dress S/O Headcanons

Zemo Getting Jealous Headcanons

Oneshots - REQUESTS CLOSED

Marvel/X-Men

Helmut Zemo

One Last Night In Madripoor

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4200~

Still Some Catching Up To Do

Synopsis: As a member of the criminal underworld, people walk out of your life all the time. Some are killed, others kill themselves, most get caught and only a couple get out of the life unscathed, disappearing into the world never to be seen again. Very few walk back in. So when your supposedly incarcerated ex-lover, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon waltzed through your door and made you murder your boss, needless to say, you were surprised and more than a little bit pissed.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 6800~

Nine Years Starved

Synopsis: It had been a little over nine years since Helmut Zemo lost his family, his country, and his sanity. Nine years since his last kiss. Nine years since he felt like a human man. Finally, he was ready to start over again, but first, he had to pay his penance back where it all began; Novi Grad. That’s when, by the grace of the fates, he met you.

Rating: G

Word Count: 7000~

Daddy Dearest

Synopsis: Not everyone gets lucky enough to go from being a broke college student in New York to being the sugar baby to literal royalty, but not everyone is you. Most people would be worried about messing things up or losing him to someone else, but you knew he would never find another baby just like you. Besides, you knew exactly what to do to keep him wrapped around your little finger. He may have been the daddy, but you pulled the reins.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 8000~

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs

Part One   Part Two   Part Three   Part Four

Synopsis: As a wanted man, Helmut Zemo spends most of his time jumping from place to place in the hopes of avoiding a trip back to prison. Unfortunately, that means he can’t always be home in your arms. When he is, though, in the rare moments of calm, you’re reminded of just how worth it it’s been to wait, even if that wait was only shortened by the arrival of your enemies.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 35,700~

Two Bodies In The Rain

Synopsis: It was raining the day you finally had to admit your feelings to Helmut. You hated to tell him the way you did, under the grey skies as your blood pooled below you, but at least you knew, in the end, he had seen the real you, even just once. That was enough.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5600~

Rest

Synopsis: Living life on the lam with your escaped super-villain lover means things rarely slow down enough for a real rest. When the exhaustion starts to take its toll on you, though, he knows exactly what to do to ease the pain. He may not be a good man, but he’s a good husband when it counts.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3200~

American Horror Story

Jimmy Darling

Red Nights In Jupiter

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 3000~

James Patrick March

Heartsick

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 3700~

In Sickness And In Health

Synopsis: Normally people don’t have their wedding and funeral on the same day, but you and James don’t quite have a normal relationship, do you? Besides, you wouldn’t wanna go any other way.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5500~

Fallout 4

Currently Empty

Star Wars

Currently Empty

Assorted/Random

Currently Empty

Long Form Works/Series

Young Artist!Zemo AU

Chapter One: The Boy With The Easel

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Rating: T

Word Count: 7000~

Till Forever Falls Apart (A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Chapter One: Welcome Home

Synopsis: As if getting thrown through the multiverse, trapped in an attic (albeit a cool one), mind-controlled to manipulate his grieving sister, and subsequently dragged out of Westview “for his own safety” by the FBI wasn’t enough, Peter Maximoff has now been shipped off to New York to live with a glorified baby sitter like some tragic orphan in a comic book until they find a way to get him back home. Things are not always as they seem, though, and this change might just be for the better.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2400~

Chapter Two: The Doctor Is In

Synopsis: Peter’s first few days in his new home are mostly uneventful, so he decides it’s the perfect time to dust off his running goggles and steal some shit. The building with the massive circular stained glass window seems like a great place to start! People with buildings that lavish are usually rich and weak, so what could possibly go wrong?

Rating: T

Word Count: 2800~

Chapter Three: It’s Always Been You

Synopsis: After a month of adapting to his new universe, Peter Maximoff can confidently say that he likes his new life more than his old one. Sure, he misses home sometimes, but he’s been far too busy flirting with his new roommate to spend time crying over the things he’s lost. Everything is smooth sailing until a strange journal in his roommate’s study leaves him with more questions than he knows what to do with. Now he’s on a mission to discover who he’s really living with before she has the chance to turn against him.

Rating: T

Word Count: 8600~

Chapter Four: Before You Go

Synopsis: Peter, after days of contemplation, has realized that part of him loves Y/N no matter what she is or what she’s been through. Unfortunately, he can’t find her anywhere. When she finally returns home with the intention of leaving again, Peter realizes it’s his last chance to tell her how he really feels. Will he succeed, or will he fail to be fast enough once again?

Rating: T

Word Count: 4000~

Chapter Four And A Half: Gimme Swayze

Synopsis: Now that the issue of Y/N leaving is out of the way, and Peter has finally kissed her, he falls into the motions of learning how to love someone for the first time. It’s easier than he thought it would be.

Rating: T

Word Count; 2600~

Cakes For The Evans: A Blogging And Baking Adventure!

Kai Anderson’s Disaster Cake

Hey you! If you’ve made it this far down the list, thanks for supporting me as an author! I’ll be linking my AO3 here. I post everything there shortly before I post it here, and there are some older fics there you might enjoy along the way! It’s also easier to drop comments over there and I keep them open for non-members, so give me a shout if you liked what I wrote!

I love you all, you make me so happy, and without you support I would never be motivated to write! Cheers!

[altcvnningham]

strings | johnny silverhand

summary: a storm passes through night city, but it isn't that which wakes her. it's the soft sound of guitar strings, being plucked by chrome fingers.

words: 1280

pairing: johnny silverhand / fem v (my v vana, but i avoid physical description, so read the name as whatever you like!!)

content: fluff, mild angst, Yearning™️, johnny plays guitar and it's rly therapeutic

warnings: SPOILERS, death mention, johnny shuts up for once so maybe mildly ooc, idk how guitars work

misc: soooo after listening to this on loop for the last forever, i just needed to vent and get this outta my system. i do use my v's name (vana) in this, but there's no physical description of her, so feel free to imagine v as your own!! also, it's been almost 4 years since i've officially posted any of my writing online, so while this is a little rough and not as detailed as i'd usually like, please be kind, and please enjoy!! (also ao3 link soon maybe but i'm lazy)

***

V doesn’t know what day it is when she awakes, but she does so to the quiet twang of guitar strings.

The metal blinds slide open, aware of her waking, and the morning spills into the room, dim and grey. Rain patters against the glass, and V, with her eyes still closed, curls deeper into the bedsheets to fend off the cold, away from the light towards the dark shelter of the wall. Night City can wait. She’ll enjoy this strange, soft music while it lasts.

Fingers pluck on quietly, nary a breath nor sigh to indicate the person playing. It’s a somber melody, a blue tune teased with the vague, cruel implication of hope, heartbreak, contentment. There‘s something in the way the music seems to move around the room and still the world, something timeless and calm yet so tenderly desperate about it- she feels sad and happy all at once, and suddenly, to be alive- to be dying- seems... a simple, given, painfully temporary thing. It’s a sweet, naïve tune. A fool’s song.

It cuts short.

Razor-sharp static screams in search for a signal. The strumming abruptly stops in response. The radio. It’s automated to switch on when she wakes up.

Then comes a final telltale sigh from the foot of her bed, as some garish pop song resonates brokenly through white noise. Must be a storm, she thinks. Howling wind outside her window confirms it.

A weight rises from the mattress- one that wasn’t there the night before, and V furrows her brows, braving the daylight and turning onto her side to see the figure lifting from the bed.

Chrome fingers curl around the neck of the cheap electric guitar as they prop the instrument back against the bed. A swelling ache closes around Vana’s chest. Loneliness. Separated from him by inches. Feeling without the one bound to the inside of her skull- it's agony.

Johnny. He crosses the room towards the radio in an aimless stride, and he staggers, tired. Vana briefly wonders- occupying her maddened, longing mind with something else- if he’s even capable of feeling that way, or if it’s her own waking lethargy that he feels, that clings to him. It’s usually like that with most things. And he switches the radio off, back arched downwards to reach it. Static finally turns to silence. She sees the thick lock of hair hanging in his eyes, and how he moves it with a careless jerk of his head before sauntering back to the bed again; peculiarly, he’s not wearing the bulletproof vest over his Samurai tank- the projection of the exact same faded shirt she wears now- and without the seemingly invincible façade, he almost looks... normal. Himself, maybe. Of course, when he descends back down to the end of the bed again, the blue glitched fragments of his engram form give him away. Yet somehow, unlike most times, seeing it puts her mind at ease. Not dreaming, at least.

With his back to her, Johnny picks the guitar back up and slings it weightlessly over his knee again. Out of thin air, he materialises a cigarette in his mouth, which wavers absentmindedly between pursed lips as he tunes the guitar and tests each string; Vana watches and remains completely still in her warm, blanket cocoon, not intent on interrupting this rare moment of peace. The rain drums on smoothly. Johnny pauses to pull the cigarette from his mouth. Exhale. Smoke joins in dancing alongside dust motes around the room, and Vana is happy to be alive today.

Johnny adjusts a silver ring on a flesh finger before touching the guitar’s strings again. He hesitates, stops, then straightens himself out before strumming the first note.

And then, it’s as if he loses himself to it- effortlessly playing that same melancholy tune from before without fault, without a sliver of uncertainty. His ‘ganic hand glides along each string with meticulous ease, metal fingers sliding and spreading along each fret, and the bleak light of the storm glints off of each chrome knuckle as he coaxes the music out to fill the quiet. And it's just this. The way in which he messily perfects such a common, mundane art. An ageless, timeless thing. No ugly, restless hand of Night City can snatch this away from her. The way his wrist flicks back with each note, how his hair crowds his face again as he nods slowly along, the heel he fails to notice he’s tapping in rhythm on the floor. For a moment, Johnny Silverhand’s real name lingers like a song in the back of her mind, as distant and unknown as this one, and she wonders if the person at the foot of her bed is him, that fragmented man lost in time.

Alt had said that Soulkiller does exactly by its name, that the soul dies the moment the consciousness is extracted. But watching him now, Vana refuses to believe that the glitched apparition at the foot of her bed is void of that, that same soul that inhabited the real Johnny Silverhand, that this engram isn’t as tangible and complex and real and feeling as she herself is. This projection of him, an amalgamation of every conscious want, need, thought and whim of a man who once existed- and this projection, he wakes up before her, on a morning as cold and grey and miserable as this, and plays a song for no discernible reason at all other than simply wanting to. Feeling like it.

No soul. She could weep- there's soul in every string.

Vana jostles free of the blanket and pushes herself forward, shifting to her knees. Johnny’s old dogtags, a relic of his past that dangle around her neck, clink together with each steady movement she makes towards him- terrified he’d stop playing for even a second- and she sits cross-legged behind him, facing the slender, flexing muscles of his back as he strums. She hugs herself, cold, shivering. He keeps playing. It’s bliss. She’s overcome with a sudden indescribable fondness, so much so that were she any braver in her vulnerability, any kinder to her feeling self, she’d let it bring a tear to her eye.

But Vana can only muster turning her head to the side, and resting her lonely cheek against the center of his back, desperate to feel every single breath that comes and leaves his vague, digital body. Perhaps it’s her own warmth she feels, reflecting back at her from Johnny’s feelings and senses, but she swears she feels him, hot beneath her cheek as though he were flesh and blood. The illusion is just enough that she doesn’t slip through him entirely. Perhaps, this will simply do.

Yes... fleeting as it is, as all things are, this moment is just... okay.

The song ends. Johnny plucks the final string. The chord fades out into a low, droning hum, until all that’s left is the rain on the window, the torrid rolling of the storm, and his calm, firm breaths, moving against her.

She forgets she's dying. And she would happily fall asleep again, right here, with the very thing that kills her, drinking in the song he’s let steep in the silence around them. But he slowly lowers the guitar, his body shifting beneath Vana’s unflinching cheek. Eyes fluttering shut once more, she feels him twist as he turns around, and how he catches her body in slacked repose, and finally- almost as if he wants to, as if he cares- the tangled threading of cold, metal fingers through her hair, towing her under the dark dwelling of sleep once more.

“I got you.”

[lovely-maryj]

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒. kageyama, hq!!

synopsis: ❝ In a field of dandelions was when I first held you. ❞ pairing: kageyama tobio x reader warnings: one-time use of the word ‘bastard’, no third person pronouns used for mc, mc is called ‘shortie’ once word count: ~1.4k note: Hello! Hopefully, you guys enjoy this! This is just a one-shot I had to write for my English class last year. Of course, I changed the names up. No way am I gonna submit this unfiltered. It would've been so obvious if I kept the names just like this, lol. I checked and apparently, I wrote this on October 27 last year. I forgot I had this on my drive somewhere. This is also the first story I posted that I'm never going to delete. (I wrote a Harry Potter fanfic a few years ago on Wattpad, and it was doing quite well for my first story, but I got writer's block and was kind of exiting the fandom so I didn't have motivation for it. It's gone now, lol. 'Twas a shame. I gained quite a few followers from that.) Anyways, this is crossposted on my Quotev and Wattpad accounts, too. Click on the links to read it over there. I'll update this again if I ever decide to post it on Ao3. If it's on there or any other site without me updating this, that is plagiarism. If it ever happens, please inform me and I'll have a nice little chat with whoever posted my story :) The same goes for the poem I wrote. I’m still quite proud of it so don’t use it without my explicit permission. likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! ^^ Edit (8 Aug 2022, 12:35 PM, GMT+8): I have now posted this one-shot on AO3!

Just a few minutes ago, I found a small dandelion on a crack on a sidewalk—that I definitely did not almost trip on—and now I was just cradling it in my hands while I skipped home. Okay, maybe I wasn’t skipping. That's just childish and I am by no means a child.

... was that even the least bit believable?

Maybe this is why Kei always likes to make fun of me.

Not looking at where I was going—what a huge mistake that was—I accidentally bumped into a person that I definitely could've mistaken for a wall.

Grunting, I tried to steady myself but the person's hands were already on my shoulders.

"Oh~? No wonder I didn't see you. It’s you, shortie."

Ignoring the comment on my (admittedly) short stature, my eyes widened in surprise at the very familiar voice, and I quickly looked up and shrugged off the person's hands off my shoulders.

Great. Just great. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“Kei!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

He just raised an eyebrow at me. “Isn’t it obvious?” He sarcastically said. “I’m walking home.”

Now, it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Uh ... don’t you live on the other side of town?”

A sheen of sweat dripped down from his forehead. “I—uh—Kageyama needed me for something.”

“Tobio needed you,” I said in disbelief while pointing at him.

A vein on his temple started bulging. He smacked my hand away and he said, “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Simply because it’s Tobio and you? I didn’t want to get into another argument with him so I simply changed the subject. Arguments with him usually lasted for at least an hour and I’m too mentally tired to care.

“Whatever,” I said while crossing my arms. “What did he need you for?”

A smug grin suddenly appeared on his face. Oh, what I would pay to smack it off him—

“Why don’t you go home and find out? He’s waiting for you outside of your front door.” Not even waiting for me to reply, he went past me and started trekking his way home. Or maybe to Tadashi’s house. I never know with him.

Scoffing at his audacity to just walk away, I turned away from him to continue my way home. Of course, with the information that Tobio was waiting for me at my front doorstep, my pace quickened with the small dandelion still in my hand.

There is nobody here. Oh, my god—did Kei really just dupe me?! I screamed angrily inside my head.

Huffing angrily, I stomped towards my front door to get inside when I felt something crinkle under my shoes. Looking down, I saw a lavender envelope. Picking it up and turning it over, I saw ‘Open me~♡’ written on the back of it in Tobio’s cute handwriting. With my eyebrows furrowed in confusion, I opened the envelope and found two letters. One written on a plain piece of paper, and the other written in my favorite stationery. Tilting my head, I just decided to read the one on plain paper since it was the one on top.

“Hello, love. If you found this, that means that that bastard—” Okay, that’s got to be Kei. “—actually managed to get you home without you getting distracted.” I nodded my head at that. ‘Twas a valid concern. God knows how many times I got sidetracked and distracted whenever I was on my own. “In the other letter, I wrote a short ... something. Don’t make fun of me, please. With love, Tobio.”

A short something? Wondering what that something was, I hurriedly took out the other letter.

“In a field of dandelions was when I first held you In my arms, with feelings so true In that meadow with the sky so blue You had me wrapped around your finger while you had no clue

From the wide piece of land, I plucked a single dandelion into my hand I made a thousand wishes that day That you might somehow feel the same way.”

I stopped reading after that last line. My mouth was wide open for I was in extreme disbelief. I couldn’t believe that Tobio—my Tobio—would write something as sweet as that. He was usually the awkward one in the relationship and I was the one that initiates all the affection. Connecting with people was definitely not one of his strong suits, so seeing him put so much effort into writing a short, sweet poem definitely almost made my heart burst out of my chest. Smiling softly, I turned the paper around and found one last stanza.

“Find me in the first line and you’ll never regret That day you agreed to become mine, you had our destinies set So with hope in my heart, you’ll find your way To where it all began with that sweet smile on your face.”

I blinked slowly in confusion. ‘Find me in the first line?’ Did he mean the first line of the poem? Is he asking me to find him in a field of dandelions? But there are tons of them here. I tilted my head to the side. That day I agreed to become his … He asked me to be his lover after one of his volleyball games, though, so it couldn’t be that. ‘To where it all began.’ Did he mean when he confessed his feelings for me? 

My eyes widened in realization. If it was possible, a lit lightbulb definitely would’ve been seen over my head right now. Grinning madly, I hurried over to the garage to get my bicycle.

“Hopefully I didn’t make him wait too long.”

“What ... is all this?” I gestured to my surroundings.

Tobio smiled, albeit nervously, “A picnic.”

Tobio was sitting on a picnic blanket with a basket and a cooler next to him. With the gorgeous backdrop of the meadow behind him, the dandelions all around us, and the almost clear blue sky with cirrus clouds and the sun shining, I almost thought I never woke up that morning and was dreaming all of this up.

I laughed heartedly, “Yeah, I get that,” I sat next to him and stared into his dark blue eyes, “but what’s all this for?”

He blushed a bit and looked away, “Don’t you remember what day it is?”

I tensed. What?! I’m pretty sure our first anniversary still isn’t until next month! I freaked out internally.

“I—uh,” I stammered. What do I say?!

Tobio must’ve been amused at my stuttering because he smiled and chuckled softly. “It’s the day I confessed to you. Remember? ‘To where it all began?’”

I gasped and put my hand in front of my mouth in shock, “You’re right!”

Tobio threw his head back laughing, and I smacked him on the shoulder for that. “Don’t make fun of me, Tobio!” I whined.

He calmed down. “Oh, and here,” He turned around to get something from behind his back. When he turned back around, he gave me a bouquet.

“Oh, Tobio!” I gushed and blushed, “You shouldn’t have!” I smiled giddily and took the bouquet.

The bouquet included red roses, purple lilacs, and dandelions.

I didn’t know at the time but seeing me staring admirably at the bouquet he put together himself touched his heart.

“Aha! Which reminds me!” I reached into my jacket pocket and took out the small lonesome dandelion I plucked from a random crack on a sidewalk. “It’s not as grand as your bouquet, but I saw this earlier and I remembered how you told me you came to this exact same field before we confessed to each other.”

Not even looking at it, he took it from my hands while staring fondly at me. “Do you know why I came here?”

Pursing my lips in thought, I asked why.

“People say that when you make a crane origami a thousand times and make a wish, it’ll come true. When I first heard it, I found this field and thought that if it worked on folding cranes, it’ll probably work if I blow a thousand dandelions.” He took a rose from the bouquet and put it behind my ear.

“Well, did your wish come true?”

“Do you remember the poem I wrote?” He caressed my cheek. “If you do, you’ll know.”

[tundrainafrica]

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

Title: Coast Lights

Summary:  

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

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

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

Link to cross-postings: AO3

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

As always, feedback is very much appreciated :D

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hange modified it into something more relatable.

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

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

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

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

That was one perk of freedom.

Funnily, she had chosen to tie herself down.

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

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

There was someone she would rather not keep waiting.

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

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

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

Hange knew there was a more obvious answer to that.

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

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

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

He didn’t reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did he see me?

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

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

Hange begrudgingly sank back towards the corner of the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So she jumped off the cliff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

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

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

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

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

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

“This is an old house,” Gabi said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hange snorted.

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

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

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

Falco interrupted. “Aren’t you scared?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

She held her working hypotheses like a charm.

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

Hypothesis two: Sometimes, the lines would blur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He continued to stare.

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

He didn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing they can fix here?” Falco asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t an excuse to die.

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

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

“Fight,” she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They weren’t hers to touch anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

For just a second, she was successful.

But only for just a second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It would be a long night.

***

By some miracle, Levi recovered quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” he said it too easily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“A few times,” Gabi answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Commander Hange Zoe.

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

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

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

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

“Did you see that?” Falco asked.

“See what?” Gabi asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would Levi have gone down if he knew?

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like an eviction notice.

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

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

“Wait, why?”

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

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

“The beach?” Gabi added.

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

“The jellyfish?” Falco asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hange gripped time again and counted backwards. Five years.

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” Levi said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See what?” Levi asked.

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

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

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

“And she’s smiling,” Onyankopon said.

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

“A sad smile,” Falco continued.

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

“All I see is light,” Levi said.

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

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

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

“Did you catch that?” Falco asked.

Onyankopon only nodded. “Maybe I did.”

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

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

“I am,” Levi said.

“Take all the time you need.”

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

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

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

“You think she got to see it?”

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

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

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

“What did she say?” Gabi asked.

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

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

[dork-empress]

Singing in the Dead of Night

Damian Wayne meets a new masked persona in Gotham, and everyone has to adjust to her.

AKA I have a lot of headcanons about Lucy Quinzel and I'm making it other people's problem.

I want it up front that I haven't read these comics, just a lot of wiki pages and tiktoks. If there's a fun thing in the comics you can tell me, but this is my own version of this universe and these characters.

This is going to be the main story, but I may do some offshoots. If you want to subscribe, chapters are also posted on my Ao3 (link in my description).

“You need to take things less seriously.”

Damian looked up, looked down, and then looked back just to be sure it was really his father who asked. It was hard to tell sometimes if your superhero father had been replaced or possessed or something. “Are you serious? YOU’RE telling me that?”

“That should enforce to you how dire the situation is.” Bruce said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re still a kid,”

“I’m 15,” Damian said, then thought about his varied adventures, “Technically…”

“My point exactly,” Bruce said, turning a page on his crime reports, “You should enjoy being a kid, for a while.”

“Oh, did you enjoy being 15?” Damian said, and maybe that was a low blow, but if Bruce wasn’t ready for him to call him out he...shouldn’t have made him upset. Hmm.

Bruce looked up and stared into his soul, and Damian worried he might have stepped in it a bit. He backed up a step in case. Bruce took a deep breath, looking at him. “My childhood was stolen from me, but I at least had one. As did all the other Robins. You’re not responsible for what happened to you,but I think you could use some time. I couldn’t offer you a childhood then, and I can hardly do that now, I know, but I can do what I can.”

“And what are you doing?” Damian asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re suspended from Robin duties.”

“WHAT?!” Damian exploded, getting in his face. “What are you talking about?!”

Bruce didn’t flinch, “Until the Wayne Manor Christmas Party,” Bruce said, “I’ve called Tim and he’s willing to cover for you until then.”

“He doesn’t NEED to cover me,” Damian snarled, “I’m right here! I’m not injured, or dead, or ANYTHING I just--WHY?”

“I told you,” Bruce said, “You need to find other...hobbies, or form connections or SOMEthing. Anything other than the lifestyle. You have two months, you’ll live.”

Damian curled his fists, shaking, but had no more arguments. “You’re the WORST!” He said, and went off to his rooms.

The room was left in stony silence for a moment. Alfred came in, changing out Bruce’s cup of tea. “You don’t actually expect that to work, do you?”

“Not really, no,” Bruce said, “But he’ll be out of my hair for a little bit.”

Alfred was very dignified and so did not snort. But it was close.

Damian went out at night, saying he was off with a friend. Best to keep things vague, but if Bruce pressed, he’d say he was with Jon, and could probably bully Jon into vouching for him.

He dressed all in black, jumping from the rooftops, looking for trouble. There was usually plenty of it in Gotham. He just had to avoid the Bat Signal hanging in the sky and he’d be fine.

He heard a crash and looked down. Jewelry store robbery. Perfect.

He jumped down to ground level and approached the broken in window, taking out his sword. “Anyone in here, it’s better to surrender now,”

Of course, because it was Gotham, he wasn’t met by a normal jewel thief. No, instead, what approached him was a small walking orange balloon animal dog.

Because of course it was.

With an act first, think later attitude, he stabbed at it. He regretted it instantly as it let out some sort of opaque gas, the effects of which he didn’t want to find out. He pulled his shirt up over his mouth in hopes of preventing himself breathing too much in.

“Oh wow,” a voice said behind him, “Are you Robin?”

Damian whipped around and scowled. The gas was obscuring whoever was there, but the silhouette seemed like something of a ballerina. Why couldn’t one criminal just be normal?

He jumped back, ready to attack, but she didn’t fight him. “I’m not Robin,” he said, “I’m…” he didn’t think of another name. Ugh, this was more complicated than it needed to be.

“Huh,” she said, heading over to the display case, “This city sure has a lot of teenage ninja fighters, doesn’t it? Is ninja appropriative? Hmm, will have to think on that.”

She picked up a diamond ring from the display case and headed for the door. “Put that down!” Damian yelled at her, lifting his sword up.

“What, are you going to kill me for one ring?” She said, holding it, “Kinda overkill, don’t you think, Blackbird?”

Damian put his sword up to her, blocking the exit. “I’m not going to kill you, I’m just going to stop you,” he said, determined, but then her words sank in. “Blackbird?”

“Well, I’ve got to call you something, isn’t that how these superhero fights all go?” She stepped forward out of the fog, a girl about his age with a white painted face, lips painted into a heart, and bright orange and pink eyeshadow. “I’m Commedia, the hero of funny, the dancing clown, the laughing knight, etc etc.” she said, “im still working on my name too.”

She did a fancy twirl, getting out of range of Damian’s sword, which he countered to block her from the entrance again. “Oh, you like to dance?” she said.

“Clown, huh?” he said, staring her down, “You work for the joker?”

She laughed, high pitched and sweet, “Very much no,” she said, twirling again through the store, “Though I understand the confusion. No, Joker is...well, a joke. He’s not even registered in the clown registry.”

“There’s a clown registry?” He swung his sword.

This time, it came to a stop, with a matching jingle. He frowned, and saw it was a tambourine that the woman had lifted and stopped the sword like a shield.

He stared at the girl, Commedia, in stunned silence. She smiled brightly at him. “Well, this has been fun. But I really ought to head out. Raincheck on that dance, Blackbird.”

With a spin and a jump, she made it past him and rushed out the door, throwing a pink flower behind. A gas filled up the room in her wake, obscuring the view. Damian unfortunately got a whiff before he could block his nose, but he knew a simple fog cloud scent when he smelled it.

Damian went back into the shadows before the police inevitably arrived. It did seem below his paygrade, fighting someone who only stole a single diamond ring. But it was even stranger for that fact. A strangely dressed clown woman engaging in very strange and specific crimes in Gotham screamed “beginning of a dangerous plot.”

He wanted to go in swinging as usual, then remembered that if his father heard anything about a young person with a sword threatening police, he might catch onto the fact Damian went out that night. So, he went with the subtle approach. Breaking into the jewelry store’s records.

He was glad he did. It turned out that ring in particular had a history. It had been bought, returned, bought again, and returned once more, all by the same man, a Matthew Crenshaw. A quick records search brought up that he was a simple caller at a center. Nothing special about him. But, he was tied to the ring, and that tied him to the girl, so that was his first stop.

He tracked down the apartment to find Matthew Crenshaw in the middle of a very strange day. Damien watched through the window as Matthew lay on the floor of his meager living room, looking up at Commedia herself. She held the ring out to him, offering. “Well come on, man! Take it!”

“I don’t…” he mumbled, “Who...who are you?!”

“Just call me your fairy godmother,” she said. “Come on, you said you wanted it! So take it!”

“That’s…” Matthew said, “That’s the ring that Jenny liked...that she…”

“That you said would make the perfect proposal!” She said, dancing around, “So? Here it is! Now you can propose for real!” she said, giving it to him.

He juggled it, nearly falling over. Commedia came rushing over, jumping through the window and onto the fire escape. “Alright, hands up,” Damian urged her.

She turned, smiling. “Why, Blackbird? We going on roller coaster?” She put her hands high in the air and swung around the fire escape ladder, “Weeeeee!”

Damian followed her, pointing his sword tip at her chest. “Stop,” he said, “What are you planning?”

“Well, I’m planning to go sneak up to that window up there so I can look in and see what Matty and Jenny have going on,” She said, “Wanna join--OH!”

Damian pressed his sword up to her neck. “Cut the games,” He said, “You’re up to something, I know it. So tell me.”

Commedia sighed, giving in. “Matthew doesn’t want to get married.”

“I...what?” Damian said, confused.

“Matthew Crenshaw, the guy up there,” Commedia said, “He’s a nice guy, and he cares for his girlfriend Jenny, sure. But she’s been pressuring him about getting married, even though he doesn’t really like the idea of getting married. He’s talked himself into saying that he needs the perfect ring, but when he bought it, he decided he couldn’t afford it, and gave it back. So, I got it for him.”

Damian’s scowl only deepened as she kept talking. “Who’s he to you?”

She tilted her head, confused. “He cold called me to try and offer me a deal on car insurance.”

Damian put down the sword. He just. She said it so sincerely. “Who ARE you?” He demanded, now out of confusion more than anger.

She smiled brightly once more. “Why, I’m Commedia! The hero clown, the dancing--”

“Yeah, you said all that before, but like,” He sighed, “Why?”

Commedia’s smile fell down to something simple and kind. She offered a hand to him.

Hesitant, curious, and just...confused, he took it.

She led him to the other window, where they saw Jenny walking through the door. She gasped and ran to Matthew. “Oh, Matt! Matt, yes! Yes, I do, I do, I never thought this day would come! Oh gosh, I gotta call my mom, I’ve got a few dresses all picked out. You’ll see, it’ll be a huge party with everyone we know and-”

“Jenny,” he said, “Jenny wait, I...you know I don’t...I’m not comfortable with crowds and...and I don’t--

“But it’s MY DAY!” Jenny wailed, “You wouldn’t take MY day from me, would you?”

“C’mon,” Commedia muttered.

“Please, Jen,” Matt continued, “Look it’s just...if, if we did get married, shouldn’t--wouldn’t it be my day too?”

“Oh come ON, Matt,” Jenny said, walking to the counter, “We both know I’m the one who knows what’s best for you. It’ll be good! You’ll finally get to shine, and if you don’t like it, you’ll have ME there to take the rest of the spotlight!”

Matt’s hands balled into fists, and his face set, “No.”

“What?” Jenny said, incredulous.

“I’ve had it! I’m tired of-of you telling me what I like and what I don’t!” his lip trembled as he stood up. “I knew I was hesitant, but I didn’t know why! Now I see it’s becasue I didn’t want you in the rest of my life!”

“Hey now,” Jenny said, “Matt, calm down--”

“Get out of my house!” Matt went to the open window Commedia left behind and tossed out the ring.

“Whoopsies,” Commedia said and dropped away. Damian, confused, dropped down after her.

She picked the ring up from the ground and held it out to Damian. “I trust you can get this back to the jewelry store.”

“So, all of that…” he said, “was to help a guy get out of a bad relationship? That you barely knew?”

“He sounded sad on the phone,” Commedia said, “Made me curious.”

Damian scoffed, staring at her. “Who ARE you?”

She chuckled. “My guess is you’ll find out sooner or later,” she said, “So I’ll pick later, for now. But I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, Blackbird.”

She took out another flower. This one shot off into the distance like a grappling hook, and pulled her twirling into the night.

Damian could have followed her, maybe. But, holding the ring in his hands, he didn’t see much need to.

Across town, Batman was called to a bank robbery in the middle of the night. Inside, however, he didn’t find the vault broken in, and nothing stolen, other than a number of complimentary lollipops. “You know there are easier ways to get my attention.”

“Aw, Come on Bats!” Harley said, swinging from the ceiling with one of the lollipops in her mouth, “Ain’t this a classic? Brings me back to the old days.”

“Oh, you’ve stopped doing crime then?” He said, leaning back and looking up at her, “News to me.”

Harley flipped down in front of him. “Batsy, you know I’m tryin’! I do good, is it a crime to have a little fun while I do it?”

“If you hurt people, yes.” Batman said.

Harley deflated. “I haven’t done that in a while now. I’m goin through some life changes.”

Batman hummed, staring down at her. “I’m guessing this is about the small clown that has been reported around town recently doing strange acts of minor crimes to help people?”

Harley brightened again, balancing on the teller counter. “She’s my new apprentice! A bit of a goody-two-shoes, but I’m doing my best to train her.” She did a handstand, “I came to ask for some advice at raising child soldiers, considering you have so much experience.”

Batman always scowled, but it seemed his scowl deepened on that. “I help some people come to terms with terrible things that have happened to them, and teach them to be a force of good in the world instead of falling to the world’s darkness.” He thought back on his children, “It doesn’t always work.”

Harley laughed, “No kidding,” she said. She sighed, thinking. “To be honest, Commedia is already pretty good. I can’t claim credit for that.” She rocked back and forth, feeling uneasy.

Batman approached, slow so as not to scare her. “Well, we both know she didn’t get it from her father.”

Her face was already white, but she blanched further. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, “She’s my niece, she ran from home so I’m taking care of her and-”

“Harley,” Batman stopped her rambling, “I’m a detective, remember?”

She frowned, shaking at him. “He doesn’t know,” she said, “No one knows, she...she’s never met him and I don’t want her to I--”

Batman held up his hands, stopping her again. “I know,” he said, “I understand, really. And I’ll help.”

She blinked up at him, smiling. “Really?”

Batman nodded. “I’ll help you protect her. As for advice....if you ever figure out a perfect way to raise masked vigilantes, let me know. I mostly just do the best I can, and make sure they can do a proper spin-kick if they need to.”

Harley snorted. “I’ll make a note of that.” She grabbed the box of free lollies on the counter, “I am going to be robbing these though, and you can’t stop me.”

She headed for the back entrance and away. “Harley,” Batman called her again, and she froze, “The year you were gone, when you disappeared and suddenly your sister had a child she wasn’t pregnant with. I want you to know, I noticed.”

Harley smiled, turning, “Thanks Bats-” When she turned, he was gone. “And people call me a drama queen.”

[voiceless-terror]

Ink (TMA Fanfic)

For TMA Gerry Week 2021 Day One

Pairings: Jonathan Sims/Gerry Keay/Martin Blackwood

Rating: T

Summary: Art’s how Gerry shows his love- a few snippets where he does exactly that. No powers-au, Gerry and Martin own a bookstore. Takes place in this universe but can be read alone!

He’s getting used to having people who want him around.

Gerry’s had friends, sure. Once he left the institute and began working odd jobs, he realized how much he genuinely enjoyed having company. He still isn’t the most social of creatures, but he does enjoy a night out with old coworkers who enjoy his stories and laugh at his jokes. But now, with Jon and Martin, they want him around all the time. Even after they started dating, even after he moved in, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never does, though. And Gerry, in spite of himself, begins to relax. Begins to feel at home. 

He’s laying on the couch, scribbling in his notebook when Martin surprises him with a peck to the top of his head. “Whatcha drawing this time?” He was very excited when he heard Gerry liked to draw, immediately asking to see his notebook or anything he’d done. He’d only recently shown him some of his work; he knows Martin would never make him feel embarrassed, but, well. It’s another part of himself no one’s ever been interested in. Until now.

“Jon,” Gerry responds, leaning into the touch. It’s an amateurish attempt in his opinion, just a rough sketch. But he’s got the proportions down and he never forgets a face. Couldn’t forget, in Jon’s case. 

“That’s…” Martin trails off, peering closer at the page. “That’s really good. You’ve even got him smiling!” It’s not that Jon never smiles; he smirks and laughs and snarks. But he’s managed to capture that rare, bright grin that makes Gerry’s heart skip a beat.

“Mhm.” Gerry nods slightly, pen tapping against his sketchpad. He turns around, seeing the naked fondness in Martin’s eyes and has a particularly wicked thought. “Y’know, this is how he looks when he’s watching you.”

Martin sputters, turns a lovely shade of red. “W-What? Really?”

“No,” Gerry smirks. “It’s the way he looks at the Admiral.” A groan and a light smack to the shoulder prove his joke is unappreciated. “Sorry, sorry! I’m sure he also looks at you that way-”

“You’re an ass.” Martin rolls his eyes but oh-so-gently picks up his hand, pausing to inspect the ink-stained fingers. “A very talented ass.” His mind blanks as Martin kisses them one by one.

Thoroughly distracted, he never gets around to finishing that sketch.

_______

Painting, as it turns out, is a lot harder than it looks. Still quite fun, though.

They’ve just found the perfect space- a little out of their price range, but Gerry’s got savings and Jon was willing to part with a bit himself. Martin fretted over his ‘meager contribution,’ as his savings were depleted in the final months of his mother’s care. Ridiculous that he would ever think his contribution meager, considering he’s the one who scouted for locations and did all of the paperwork and stayed up late, agonizing over their finances. Some days, Martin’s the only one keeping them sane. Gerry and Jon are due to remind him of that.

Which is why they’re handling the decorating. Jon claims to have no artistic talent, but he does have a knack for making places seem like home. There are boxes filled with knick knacks and rugs and pictures, all waiting to be hung somewhere once Jon’s finally settled on a layout. Gerry’s left with painting the walls, labeling the different sections in whatever way he sees fit. He’s currently at work on the horror section, painting a stylized eye above the tarp-covered bookshelf when he hears the sound of the bell; Martin must be back from the store. They’d run out of appropriately-sized nails and after a minor freak out, he’d been on his way.

“Find what you were looking for?” he calls, listening as Martin’s footsteps grow closer, the crinkle of bags in his hand. “Here to save the day?”

“I wouldn’t call it saving,” Martin snorted, setting them down on the ground with a thump. “But it’ll certainly help. That looks nice.”

Gerry pauses, considering his work. He really needs a darker green for this. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn out great,” he murmurs distractedly, and Gerry turns to look back at him. The lines of his face are more pronounced than usual, as are the shadows under his eyes. A sure sign that the stress is getting to him. Gerry understands, and he’s not much for being particularly sappy but he does what he can to help.

“Hey,” he calls down to him from his ladder. “C’mere. Need your opinion on something.”

Martin sighs, but heeds the call. “What is it? You know I’m rubbish with this art stuff-”

“It’ll only take a second. Come closer.”

“What am I supposed to be looking at-”

“Closer.”

As Martin huffs and leans towards him, Gerry darts his paintbrush out, drawing the quickest of hearts on Martin’s cheek before he can pull away. 

“Gerry!” Martin startles and his hand reaches up to wipe at his cheek.

“Don’t smear it, it’s a heart.” He pauses, going for his gravest voice. “Because I love you so much. I’ll be devastated if you ruin it.”

“I don’t appreciate that.” Martin sighs but drops his hand, his face softening already. Exasperation has never been paired with fondness, not when it’s aimed at Gerry. Another thing he’s starting to get used to.

“Shame. It looks good.”

Martin goes home with a heart on his other cheek as well. He looks ridiculous. Gerry loves it.

_________

When Jon’s particularly stressed, Gerry leaves him post-it notes.

Often he leaves before Gerry even wakes, so he’s got to do them the night before. A little cat here, a little caricature of Bouchard there. He leaves a variety, depending on his mood. Jon always gives him a kiss when he gets home, a soft ‘thank you for the note,’ and that’s all he needs, really, to keep doing it. He likes making Jon smile.

Martin’s gone grocery shopping and Jon’s pulling a late night again, so Gerry’s alone in the flat looking for something to do. There’s nothing on Netflix worth watching (or at least, worth watching by himself) and he’s not in the mood for his latest novel, so he decides he’s going to be productive, make a list of all the things he has to do this week. Jon’s always going on about lists, though he leaves them everywhere and never seems to accomplish everything on them. Maybe it’s the act of making them that’s relaxing. It’s worth a try.

He makes his way over to the second bedroom they (mostly Jon) use as an office. He’s sure Jon’s got a little notepad here that he can use, and he wants it to look as official as possible. He opens the left hand drawer but only finds Martin’s receipts, and on the right he finds a plain-looking notebook, a little worn with use. Maybe that’s what he uses-

Gerry opens it. Pauses. Blinks. Feels something heavy and thick form in his throat.

It’s his notes- his stupid little sketches, his ‘have a good day at work’s, his smiley-faces and little hearts. Each carefully placed on page after page with an accompanying date, neat and tidy, like a little scrapbook. Mum used to throw out his ‘doodles,’ as she called them, told him his time was better spent on actual art, but Jon’s kept all of them. Like they mattered. Like they were important. He sets it back down on the desk and just stands there, heart beating hard in his chest.

Gerry’s tearing up like some sort of moron so he’s distracted and doesn’t hear Jon come home, doesn’t hear his usual grumblings and sighs. Doesn’t hear him until Jon’s right behind him, startling him with a hand on his arm. “Sorry, I was just- Gerry, are you alright?”

Alright. Alright. It’s a word that doesn’t encompass everything he’s feeling. Wanted, embarrassed, a little overwhelmed. And so, so happy. 

He turns around and grabs Jon in a fierce hug, overcome with affection and eager to hide his stupid tears as he squeezes Jon to his chest. “You’re adorable, you know that?” he says, peppering kisses to the top of his head despite Jon’s weak protestations. “Real fuckin’ cute.”

Jon melts into his embrace, even as he complains. “I’ve got no idea what you’re on about, Gerry,” he says into his chest, the words muffled. “You’re being absurd.” Jon’s just about the only person he knows that uses ‘absurd’ on a daily basis. It’s insufferable. Gerry loves it.

“Just let me hug you, you little ogre.”

_________

Sometimes, Gerry’s the one who’s got to be up early. Doctors appointments are a bitch, and after a brief scare last year, it’s important that he keep up with them. Martin helps him schedule, marking the appointments on the calendar with a bold black marker that can’t be missed.

This morning’s particularly brutal, with an eight o’clock appointment an hour’s commute away. Jon went to sleep at a reasonable hour last night and he needs the rest; Gerry knows if he wakes Martin, he wakes them both. Jon’s never been good at sleeping alone. 

He’s stumbling blearily around the kitchen, about to put the kettle on when he notices it. On the table is a post-it note; he doesn’t remember leaving one for Jon last night, but he’d been rather tired, so who knows? Gerry putters around, fixing his tea and nibbling at toast when he finally spares it a glance. 

It’s not for Jon. It’s for him.

Good luck at your appointment! It reads in Martin’s familiar, neat script. Accompanying it is a small doodle that has to be Jon’s; it’s not particularly good, but it clearly shows a little Gerry, makeup and all, with a plaster on his cheek and a heart over his head. It looks like Jon spent time on it. Spent time on some stupid little post it note to make Gerry smile. 

He puts it in his pocket. Takes it out a few times in the waiting room, stares at it. Everything looks fine, the doctor says at the end of the appointment. He’s so lucky.

He’s so lucky.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635833

[three-word-count]

Bitter Thoughts and Drinks to Match

Zelda hates formality and uses a slightly-drunk Link to get the hell out of attending responsibilities. This is based on a prompt someone sent to my main but I realized at the end that the “affection” aspect is more like la croix rather than direct..

Word count is 1881

Read it on ao3 if you want

Overly pretentious would be her first words to describe it.

"You must look your utmost best," her father had said to her. Of course, though, she prepared herself the same way as any other day. It's not like he would notice a difference in her anyhow. 

Her hair swept down her back, pulled away from her face like drapes by a delicately woven band. She was adorned with the classic royal garb she would normally wear to these events, her vibrant irises standing out against the deep blue. Golden crests fringed the edges of her robes and stood proudly on her jewelry to represent her lineage. She hated it. 

She didn't recall having these disgustingly over-the-top galas when her mother was still here. Perhaps the queen preferred to be more comfortable. Or perhaps she just kept Zelda's father in check. With his better half departed, perhaps he'd finally lost it and decided to cope with cheesy extravagance. Zelda had of course become accustomed to the formality of things, living her life as a princess of Hyrule. But you can only tolerate so much in so many years before you begin to despise it. What she wouldn't give to have any other life. These events especially reminded her of it all. Whereas getting dressed in extravagant formal wear and glorifying yourself would normally be viewed as a fun night out for most people her age, Zelda experienced it all as just another tedious, official obligation. 

And this event was even worse than most.

Her father had organized this celebration to bring light to the princess and the "progress in her diligent prayers, calling to our Goddesses and strengthening her power to abolish the Calamity." She truly loathed him.

He has to keep spirits in the kingdom high, he says. The people must have hope, he says. You are their hope, he says.

She wishes she wasn't. 

She sat a bit straighter, wishing she could let out a sigh. Her father remained seated beside her, rigidly formal as ever. Two senior knights were posted beside them, scanning the crowd for any nitwit that would even consider threatening the royal family at a celebratory event, of all scenes. The absurdity of being guarded for one's entire life. The only knight she could tolerate was the little, quiet, reserved boy she had grown to care for who was currently chugging a mug of Hylia-knows-what while being cheered on by a circle of peers. That was a sight she'd never thought she'd see.

Normally, knights would attend events rather seriously, a long table of them in the dining hall sitting rather proudly and eating their well-deserved fill with a single glass of wine. However at tonight's celebration, her father had told the younger members of the Brigade to enjoy themselves, as he was thankful for the work they had done to watch over the princess. Now, when officially granted the freedom to "enjoy yourself", any given person would naturally, fully, enjoy themselves. The king likely considered this beforehand, but as he glared at the boisterous table, Zelda assumed he had expected them to maintain at least some decency. 

She turned her attention back to Link himself as he slammed down the empty mug into the table, making the silverware clatter as his friends let out congratulatory whoops. As he was her personally assigned knight, she spent the most time with him compared to the rest of the royal guards. Before meeting him, she knew him to be "the silent knight" and expected him to stay this way as he irritatingly chased her shadow wherever she went. However, the two began to bond after always being in such close proximity throughout the days. She recalls the first time he spoke to her, his soft voice clashing with his rigidly stoic personality. He slowly began to open up, and Zelda in turn took down her walls. As he was the youngest royal knight, barely older than Zelda herself, she felt a true connection to him. Both were burdened by pressure and expectations at such an unfair age, all public eyes watching their every move. It was a special kind of kinship they shared. 

However, she had never seen this side of him and didn't even think he had this side. She'd heard rumors that his platoon had dared him to eat a platter of rocks, and he had done so quite enthusiastically, but she didn't dare believe it. Now she found herself second-guessing. 

But maybe she could use this to get out of here. 

"Father," she said, "It was quite kind of you to allow the guards to enjoy themselves this night."

He let out an irritated huff of air from his nose, glancing at her as if asking Where are you going with this?

"However," she continued, "I worry that my knight will not be fit to guard tonight if this continues." 

The king turned forwards once again, eyes set on the knights' table like stone. He let out a deep humm as if he was actually considering his daughter's concerns for once. 

"Are you asking for an excusal?" he finally asked, remaining facing forward and as rigid as ever.

That usually wasn't a good sign.

"Yes, father."

Silence.

"If you would be so kind, father, I shall return to my room and pray. My knight may remain posted with me as always." 

Promises of prayer and diligence. He always liked that. He seemed to further mull this over, and then stood. Silence befell the hall and all eyes turned to him before he even spoke.

“I would like to thank you all for attending this gala for our princess. It truly means a lot to her and I, her confidence and abilities improving each day due to your prayers and encouragement. However, our princess must retire early this night, as she has a vigorous prayer routine in order to prepare for her coming journey to the spring of wisdom. We shall allow our princess to return to her devotion, and she offers her appreciation before her departure.” 

And with that, Zelda took her cue to get up and leave as quickly as possible, without either causing confused murmurs or without her father deciding to call her back. She skirted the edges of the room, steadily approaching the knights at the easternmost wing of the dining hall as she ignored the crawling sensation of hundreds of eyes tracing her movements. She halted at the head of the table, expecting Link to automatically rise from his seat and depart with her, but she was disappointed to find that he was lying face-down on a placemat with his arm sprawled across the surface, gripping onto an empty mug in his delirium. His peers were doing an excellently awful job at attempting to shield him from sight, presumably one of them kicking Link from under the table as he gave a periodic little jolt. Sir Link, who would promptly lose consciousness after only one drink, was truly the most valiant and courageous knight of them all. The hero of legend indeed. 

“Hero,” she said curtly. That was sure to snap him awake. She hadn’t spoken to him like that in months. 

Link gave a startled snort and made a sound that appeared to be a mix between heyyyyy and noooo.

Zelda sighed and held back a smile with all her willpower. “Try to appear… fit. Let’s go.”

She thought she heard him mutter “Hylia…” before getting up to full height and keeping his head down, sure to either avoid eye contact or to hide his miserable expression. Imagine attending a royal gala and getting to see the hero of legend get wasted. Surely that would bring comfort to the denizens of Hyrule. 

Zelda began to head off at a slow pace as to allow her knight to steadily follow. As the pair left, Zelda kept her gaze set forward firmly. She didn’t want to see what anyone else was thinking. She hated these galas anyway. As soon as she was out of here she could relax. 

Her shoulders went slack as soon as the door was closed shut behind them. Finally free. Link seemed to agree with her thoughts, as he leaned against the wall with a thud, glaring at the ceiling with a scrunched face. Zelda smirked. 

“Too much for you, hero of legend?” 

He responded with a disgruntled moan. 

“Perhaps I should be the one guarding you instead,” she joked, moving to lean against the wall next to him. 

He closed his eyes and let a puff of air escape from his nose. “Never let me drink again.”

“Alright, I hereby formally declare you as banned from ‘partying hard.’”

Link let out a single bark of laughter. “A life sentence, eh princess?”

“You did say ‘never’ after all.” She smiled at him as his glazed blue eyes met hers. “Though, I may even have to change it to ‘partying mild’ by the looks of you,” she added. 

Link hummed in content as his back slid down the wall so he could sit comfortably. “Wait with me a bit,” he said weakly, though it sounded more like a hopeful question. 

Zelda of course obliged, and sat down next to him, tucking her dress under her folded knees. They sat in comfortable silence as Link's eyes began to flutter closed and his breathing became deeper. Zelda was glad that he could be so comfortable around her now. He wouldn't dare to fall asleep in her presence a mere month ago. 

But now, all Zelda could do was stare ahead at the wall. Her thoughts ran free, jabbing needles through her head. Her hatred for galas. Her hatred for this. For everything. For her father. For herself… 

“Worthless…” she whispered to no one. “Dedicating my life to prayer and yet cannot receive a single answer. Nearly ten years… And yet father pretends that everything is fine by maintaining this masquerade with galas to cover. A fine set of never-ending distractions…” She sighed, resting her chin on her knees. “Just a good-for-nothing king and his good-for-nothing daughter at the head of it all.”  

She sat in her frustrated silence a second more, and turned her head back to Link to see a single sapphire eye clouded by alcohol and sleep gazing upon her. Compassion. Understanding. He didn't need to utter a single word to convey his emotions. We share these burdens together. 

Zelda gave him a melancholy smile and stood. “Let’s be off, hero.” 

And with that, the memory began to fade. 

She opened her eyes. Nothing to see but a golden hell of her own making. Sweat poured down her brow. The intense light seared her skin. What a time to recall something as minor in her life as that… Clinging to seemingly insignificant memories in order to harvest any available scrap of hope she can get her hands on. 

Though to her, any memory of him was quite the opposite of insignificant. She prayed he was coming soon. Not that prayer ever did a single thing for her anyway. She wished he was coming soon. 

She wished none of this had ever happened this way.

She wished she were anywhere else but here. 

She wished she were at a gala.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Add A Link and See It Grow

Today’s the last day of the Harringrove Week of Love! The final prompt I chose was Found Family! Read this here or on ao3 posted by ej_writer !

Word Count: 7,305

Rating: T

“Are you serious right now Nancy?”

It was 7:30 at night when Steve heard his doorbell ring and, upon answering it, was met with a swarm of middle schoolers rushing into his house. He had plans to go out to the quarry with Billy in like, a half hour, he could not afford to be the babysitter.

“I’m sorry, Steve. My mom was supposed to watch the kids but she had to go out so she asked me to babysit, but I already told Joyce and Jon I’d help them plan Will's birthday party and it’s only a few days away now and-“ Nancy talked about a thousand miles a minute as she tried to justify dumping the brats on him.

“Whatever, it’s, fine.” It wasn’t, but it wasn’t worth arguing over either. “Aren’t they old enough to watch themselves at this point?”

Nancy didn’t even respond to that, just gave him a stern look that said ‘you’re watching these kids no matter what, get over it.’ She crossed her arms and squinted at him and, even if it didn’t really matter if he agreed, his resolve broke. “Alright, fine.”

She smiled and thanked him before hurrying back to Jonathan’s still running car. Steve sighed and braced himself before turning around to go back inside. The brats were known for wreaking havoc in a matter of minutes, and he wasn't looking to let them destroy his parents’ house.

In the five minutes he was outside they’d already raided the fridge of all of his pop, added the leaf to his dining table (how did they even know where that thing was?), had game pieces and boards thrown all over the place, and made a stack of their bags in the corner of his living room.

“Wait a second, is this a sleepover?” Steve groaned at all of the overenthusiastic nods he received. “Where am I supposed to put all of you little shits?”

Dustin shrugged. “You have enough rooms in this place to house the whole neighborhood. I think you’ll be fine.”

“Well, since nobody felt the need to run this by me first, I’m already busy. Can you dipshits handle yourselves for like, two hours?”

The look on Mikes face perfectly mirrored the one his sister had given Steve at the door. “Dude, Nancy will kill you if she found out you left us here alone.”

“Not if I kill her first for dumping all of you on me.” The threat had still stuck, she absolutely would kill Steve. There was no way he could get away with leaving them unattended.

He figured he could just call Billy and cancel, but that was really the last thing he wanted to do. He tried to come up with some compromise, but with all the kids pulling up chairs to his dining table with intentions of staying all night, he didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter.

Dialing Billy’s number into the kitchen phone, he walks around the corner into the bathroom, shutting himself in as best he can around the phone's cord in an attempt at having some semblance of privacy from the six sets of prying ears in the next room, but he hears nothing from the other end.

He let it ring a few more times before he gave up, wrapping the cord back up and hanging the phone back in its slot. This wasn’t going to go over well.

Because it wasn’t like he could just be like ‘hey, I have to go do this, be back in a few’ when what he had been planning on doing was going on a date with Billy Hargrove. They were sneaking around behind the kids' backs, so that just wasn’t a luxury they had.

But Billy wouldn’t answer his phone, so he couldn’t explain the situation to him either, and now Steve was backed into a corner, and exponentially screwed.

At first, he was trying to just stay out of the kids’ hair, hover in the corner while they did their thing just to make sure they didn’t get it of hand, but he was feeling too jittery and nervous, so he pulled up one of the thousand extra dining chairs his mother kept around for dinner parties and joined in their stupid game.

For once, they were playing normal people games instead of that role playing thing he couldn't wrap his head around, so he could actually understand what was happening enough to participate.

Not that that meant he ever won, being outsmarted by these kids was his specialty. Round after round they ran circles around him, and he was getting frustrated enough he was considering making them sleep outside.

He was about to throw his cards down and quit for what was probably the tenth time already when he heard the telltale sound of Billy’s Camaro pulling into his driveway.

That was really bad. He’d stood Billy up, and he’d be pissed, he couldn’t let him just barge in here and make a scene in front of the kids. Because not only would that mean they knew Steve was not crushing on some imaginary girl or whatever he’d made up to thwart their suspicions, but that he was with Billy Hargrove of all people. They’d never let it go.

He shot a quick look at Max, who no doubt would’ve been able to recognize the sound of her own brother's car, hoping to somehow communicate to her to keep these other assholes occupied while he dealt with this. He was pretty sure Max already knew about them anyways.

Forfeiting again, he got up from the table and hurried towards the front doors.

Will called after him with a sympathetic, “It’s just a game, Steve!” which thankfully meant they either hadn’t heard or hadn’t recognized the sound of Billy’s car.

Holding up the pack of camels he always kept in his pocket, he turned around to face the kids, backing towards the door still. “Just need a smoke break.”

That seemed to appease them, and they went back to what they were doing. He practically ran the rest of the way to the door, as he opened and closed it before they could see the boy on the stoop.

Billy was standing there probably about to lay on the doorbell, something he always did just to drive Steve crazy, and seemed surprised at the way he came all the way outside and shut the door behind himself. “Listen, I’m on babysitting duty, so I kind of can’t do this right now.”

At the same time Billy’s face fell, Steve felt his heart drop into his stomach. This wasn’t about their rendezvous, turning up at Steve’s house usually meant he needed something, and judging from the way his hands were stuffed deep into his pockets and the way he was worrying his lip between his teeth, it was something important. “Whatever, Harrington. I’ll get out of your hair.“

“That’s not what I meant.” Steve reached out and put his hand on Billy’s arm to get his attention. “I’m sorry. I want you to stay, I just, I needed you to know they were here.” The additional so you didn’t out us and ruin our lives forever went unsaid, but Billy knew the implications of being caught by the kids.

“I need your first-aid kit“ It was hard for him, asking for help, but these days it was something he needed a lot of.

“Okay.”

Without another word he opened the door and led Billy inside, making him kick off his muddy biker boots before following him up the stairs to where he kept the band aid kit in his bathroom. One of the perks of having a big house was that the kids, from where they were in the dining room, couldn’t see the door, and only heard them go up the steps.

This had become routine for them, Billy showing up at his door in need of a little TLC, and Steve desperate to give it to him, but up to this point they’d been able to evade the kids. He didn’t think it would honestly be all that bad if they knew, Billy’s sister was among them and probably wouldn’t let her friends run too wild with the information, but Billy had made him swear on his life he’d never let them, or anyone else for that matter, find out about it.

Of course he understood that. There was a reason this kept happening, these nights when Billy would show up at his door in need of assistance, and that reason, who’s name happened to be Neil Hargrove, would undoubtedly kill the both of them were he ever to catch word that his son was dating Steve Harrington.

Steve had the displeasure of meeting Neil in person only once in late December, when he’d dropped Max off at her house after a Christmas party at the Byers. Being that he was such a responsible and caring father, or at least that’s what he was for the public eye, he just had to meet the boy who was watching his daughter.

Steve’d been beyond unsettled by the unnecessary firmness of his handshake, the distant look behind his so obviously practiced smile, the way Billy, with his arm in a cast for reasons he wouldn’t tell anyone, loomed in the corner as Neil did his interrogation.

When he was satisfied with the answers he’d been given, sure that Steve wasn’t carting the kids around because he was a creep or something, he’d let him go with a slap to the shoulder that was a little too hard to be friendly, and made Billy, maybe as a show of some sort of old fashioned respect, walk him back to his car.

“Did he do that to you?” Maybe it was because his experience with his own father had made it easier to recognize, but Steve was pretty sure he had a good idea of what was going on here.

Billy kept his eyes downcast and his shoulders squared, defensive in a way that was distinctly un-Billy. The broken arm must have been preventing his fighting instincts from taking over, or maybe it was the guilt from already beating the shit out of Steve once. “Maybe.”

That was enough of an answer for him. “Look, if you ever need anything, just like, I don’t know, come find me or something, man.”

Billy’s head snapped up to look at him. Steve could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to think of some response, but that had gotten to him. He kept his lips pressed in a flat line, and stared at Steve like he just grew a second head.

“I’m sorry for lying to you, just, my door is always open, or whatever.” It was extremely awkward, Steve offering help to the boy who’d literally just beat the shit out of him and concussed him like a month ago, but he could see through him.

The scar in his eyebrow didn’t come from their fight, nor did the cast on his arm. Seeing the way Neil acted, the saccharine smile he wore as he made subtle threats on him when he literally did nothing but drive his daughter around, he had enough to figure out that those injuries had been from what Billy had faced once he came home that night.

Billy hadn’t said anything, just scoffed and turned around to go back into his house, but a week later he showed up at Steve’s house, having gotten the address off of their sort of mutual friend Tommy, with a broken nose and bled all over his living room carpet, and the rest was history.

Steve walked him into the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet seat, popping open the first-aid kit where it sat on the tiled counter. “Where’re you hurt?”

A nervous habit of his, Billy was chewing on the side of his thumb nail. His gaze flickered between Steve’s face and the framed painting behind him on the wall. “S’my ribs.”

Steve got him to shrug out of the two different jackets he was wearing, his first winter in the Midwest had proved to be far too cold for a Cali-raised boy like Billy, and pull the Henley shirt he had on over his head. The damage hidden underneath was enough to make him sick to his stomach.

Reaching out, Steve gingerly touched the deep purple bruises littering the other boy's chest and ribs. He felt breathless, this was by far the worst he’d ever seen it. “Jesus, Bills.”

Billy wasn’t very good at accepting sympathy from others. It made him feel all squeamish to be fussed over, and Steve was the king of fussing over him. He muttered, “Think there’s a cut towards the back.”

Steve wrapped his fingers around Billy’s forearm and gently pushed his arm up over his head to inspect the damage, and sure enough, there was a gash about 6 inches long on his left side. “What the hell did he do to you?”

Billy sniffs, looks away and says, like it’s nothing, “Steel-toes break the skin easier.”

Every time they did this, Steve’s heart broke into a million little pieces. The nonchalance of it all was the worst part, the way it was so normal for Billy to have his father kick him until his ribs were bruised black and bleeding, it made him so sad to see his Billy that way.

He let Billy put his arm down and crossed his own arms over his chest, “You’re gonna need stitches.”

“You know how to sew.” Another shot right in his heart, Steve didn’t know how much of this he could handle.

“Barely. And this is completely different.” Steve stepped forward and put his hand on the side of Billy’s face, keeping him from looking away again to stare at that stupid painting on the wall. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it, Stevie. Either you do it or I will.” If Billy gave an ultimatum, he meant it.

He definitely didn’t know how to sew, it was a skill considered too feminine to be taught to a son despite its usefulness, so he never learned how, but if Steve didn’t agree he would’ve very much done it and hurt himself a thousand times more in the process just to prove a point

So Steve reluctantly did it, made Billy hold his arm over his head and turn to face the other wall so he could see it better. Not that he was an overly emotional person, or maybe he just wouldn’t admit he was, but the sight before him put tears in his eyes.

Billy caught that, and despite the swell of nervousness in his own chest as he saw Steve threading a needle from out of the kit, he offered comfort to his boyfriend.

“Only a few more months before I’m outta there, then we won’t have to worry about this shit any more.” Billy would turn 18 in June, just under three months from now, but when he showed up at Steve’s door bloodied and bruised every other day, that long stretch of time offered no comfort.

It wouldn’t be as easy as Billy seemed to think it was to leave. He wouldn’t have any money, the Camaro wasn’t in his name, so he wouldn’t have any way to get around, and he didn’t even know where he would stay yet. That was all hypothetical for if he’d even be able to leave too.

With an abusive father constantly looming over his shoulder and keeping tabs on him, he’d know he was going to leave and try to stop it at all costs. It was only a matter of time before he started trying to manipulate Billy into staying.

It clearly didn’t have the desired effect on Steve. Billy’d even offered his assurances with a smile, but his boyfriends face stayed grim as he wiped at the cut with an alcohol pad so he could start to try to stitch it shut.

They stayed silent after that, while Steve tried to steady his shaking hands for long enough to get the needle in and out of Billy’s skin without hurting him too bad. The only break in the silence was the occasional gasp from Billy when Steve made another hole in his skin, or the noise drifting up from when the kids started yelling downstairs.

After a few more times in and out he was able to tie it off, the sutures were sort of crude, but were doing their job, and he made Billy move his arm all around to make sure they wouldn’t tear right through his skin. Once he was appeased, he made him put a new shirt on, the other one stained with his blood would have to be washed.

Billy stood up and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. “I’m gonna be okay baby.”

Steve reached his arms around the back of Billy’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “I know but-“

Cutting him off with a quick kiss, Billy interjected. “It doesn’t matter about him as long as I have you.” Another peck to his lips. “Love you.”

It hardly did anything to cheer Steve up or comfort him, but there wasn’t anything that could when every night, he sent his boyfriend back into the arms of a monster. He sighed and ran his fingers through the long hair at the back of Billy’s neck. “I love you too.”

Neither of them knew how much time had passed when Billy pulled away to grab his jacket off of the counter. Shrugging the layers back onto his shoulders, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket again. “I should go. The nerd herd’s gonna wonder where we went.”

“I want you to stay.” Steve kissed him one more time. “Not gonna let you go back to him yet.”

Billy looked like he wanted to protest, but Steve must’ve been looking as sad as he felt, because Billy sighed and gave in. “Fine. But your kids aren’t going to be too happy about that.”

“They’ll be fine.” Billy always seemed to underestimate just how much the kids liked him.

It was true that they hadn’t been his biggest fans at first, but when they first started doing this, Steve made him swear he’d apologize to them, and he did.

They were smart kids, they understood how the situation had looked when he got pissed, all of them hiding from him in a strangers house, and they understood the implications too of him begging Max to leave with him and his arm being broken literally the next day when she hadn’t.

It wasn’t immediate forgiveness, they were pretty wary around him until they felt he’d done enough to prove that he meant it when he apologized, but they’d all more or less accepted it by now.

Because he hadn’t stopped after just saying sorry. The words themselves never meant much to him at all, what with the situation he grew up in, so he tried to show them he was sorry.

Which was how he had become the secondary chauffeur after Steve, taking more than just Max home after trips to the movies or the arcade, and consequently how he had started helping them sneak around.

More than a few times he’d helped them smuggle Eleven out of her dad's cabin, because he understood feeling trapped, before he had his own car Neil had been able to keep him under 24/7 surveillance. He always covered for Lucas too, driving him home first before anyone else, and when Neil wanted to know who Max had been with, he’d lie and say it was just Dustin or El. After what happened it felt like the least he could do, but Steve was right, by now, they were pretty much over it.

Either way, he didn’t exactly want to have to explain away why he and Steve had disappeared upstairs for the last hour, hour and half. They might forgive him for his stupid outburst, but he couldn’t be sure where they drew the line.

Steve smiled at him and wrapped his fingers around Billy’s wrist, pulling him out of the bathroom and back through the hallway to the stairs. “Just follow my lead.”

Any semblance of a plan was lost when they made it back to the kitchen, Billy leaning in the doorway while Steve announced his presence, and they saw Eleven washing blood off of her hands in the sink.

There were some things Billy knew he’d never understand about these kids, Steve had made him promise he wouldn’t ask questions even though that was what had got them into a fight in the first place, so, despite his confusion, he didn’t even try to ask.

Not even when Steve put his hands on his hips and reprimanded her. “Oh, you were not spying on me.”

She smiled coyly. “I was.”

Billy felt the blood drain out of his face, felt his heartbeat skyrocket as he and Steve exchanged a look of fear. Steve stuttered and started trying to explain. “Listen you guys-“

Dustin cut him off, always overly eager to complain. “She won’t tell us anything.”

Nodding, Mike agreed. “She says it’s an ‘invasion of your privacy’.” He used air quotes around the last part as if spying on people in their own homes wasn’t exactly that.

The fear on Steve's face shifted into anger as he pointed his finger in Mike's face. “That’s because it is. I told you little shits a thousand times: no spying.”

Lucas interjected, agreeing with his friends. “What’s it matter if she won’t tell us anyways?”

Max fixed him with a deadly look and scoffed. “It matters because she didn’t want to and you made her. Why should she tell you what she saw?” Typically, Max would be on Lucas’ side, but they must’ve been fighting again.

Billy, watching the scene unfold while leaning on the door frame, clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth and announced. “Seems like I walked into something.” He turned to walk away and called over his shoulder. “Catch ya ‘round, Harrington.”

Before he could get away, Steve grabbed him by the back of his jacket and tugged, stopping him dead in his tracks. “No way. You’re not leaving me to deal with this by myself.”

“Your children aren’t my responsibility.” He reminded him, but he had no actual intentions of actually leaving and they both knew that.

The kids hadn’t understood at first why Steve got along with Billy after he’d been the one to be beat up, so, to put it in a way that made sense to the brats, they pretended to argue so it seemed like they were only begrudgingly hanging out, and so far, they hadn’t seen through it.

Steve had a retort ready, but Dustin beat him to it. The kids were constantly rubbing it in Billy’s face that they’d turned him into a babysitter too. “Yeah, we kind of are.”

Lucas, obviously only trying to get some sort of points towards Max’s forgiveness, agreed. “Especially since one of us is your totally awesome sister.” Max just rolled her eyes at his attempt.

Realizing he was still holding onto Billy’s jacket, Steve pulled him back into the room and let go. “You’re staying.” He turned to Will and asked him like nothing had happened, “So what are we playing?”

Unsurprisingly, the kids had developed tiny attention spans. They'd gotten quite the taste for crazy adventures, so unlike normal teenagers, activities like watching movies and playing truth or dare all night wouldn’t really do it for them.

Since Steve had left, they’d apparently played through two different games and had been about to start a third before they decided to spy.

Mike tells them, “We’ve narrowed it down to Uno and Monopoly.”

“Mike, Will, and Max vote Monopoly. Me, Lucas, and El vote Uno.” Dustin further explained, “We need a tie breaker.”

“I’m not any good at Monopoly. Too much counting.” Steve nudged Billy with his shoulder. “What do you think?”

“Last time I played Monopoly I broke someone's nose, and I’m colorblind. Don’t think my vote counts.” Neither of those facts are particularly untrue, but the only reason Billy brings them up is because he’s still trying to deny that he’s their babysitter.

Staying for Steve, whatever, that was fine, but playing board games with the little shits, that would be giving in, admitting that he wasn’t above hanging out with middle schoolers on a Friday night.

But he doesn’t get out of it, because with the excitement of all of the kids combined, Will pipes up. “Don’t worry, I am too! My mom put shapes on all the cards so I can tell the difference.”

He hurries and fishes out the playing deck, bringing it straight to Billy to look through. “See! Reds are squares, greens are circles, yellows are stars, and blues are triangles!”

Steve smirks at Billy, at the defeated look on his face. “Looks like you’re not getting out of this one, Hargrove.”

Tumblr decided this was too long, go ahead and finish reading on ao3! Over there I’m ej_writer !

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter three

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca sees her again in the most unexpected place.

rated: E for drug use and sex scenes

AO3 LINK

*

“Bec?” 

Beca hummed absentmindedly, blinking out of her daze and twisting her head in the direction of the voice. 

Sarah smiled gently as she leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. She cocked an eyebrow, giving a pointed look towards the sink. “I think the pan is clean.” 

Beca glanced down, stilling her movements. She had been scrubbing that pan for probably ten minutes now, her thoughts completely consumed by Chloe and what she was supposed to do next. 

Chloe clearly didn’t want to see her, and Beca wasn’t going to wait by the phone when it was clear that Chloe was far from okay. She was thinner than Beca remembered, and the look in her eye, the lack of light in those once bright blues, chilled Beca to the bone. 

She looked… broken. As though her spirit had repeatedly been battered until all that was left were mere pieces of her old self. 

If there were any left at all.

Beca couldn’t stand the thought of not doing anything, and she needed to come up with a plan to help Chloe without driving her into a corner and risk losing her forever. 

“What’s going on?” Sarah questioned, pushing off the doorframe and padding over. She rested her hand between Beca’s shoulder blades, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “You’ve seemed off today.” 

Beca released a sigh, setting the pan down into the sink and reaching for the dishtowel laying next to her on the counter to dry her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m just… worried about a friend.” 

Sarah nodded slowly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Sarah was unexpected, to say the least. Beca was a workaholic, and her career was too time-consuming for her to get into the whole dating thing. But Sarah, who happened to work as a barista in Beca’s favorite independent coffee shop, had somehow managed to convince Beca to go out with her. One dinner surprisingly turned into a second date, then a third, and it just like that, it had been almost a year since they officially got together. 

Sarah was gentle, patient, understanding, overflowing with positivity, but most of all, incredibly kind. She reminded Beca of Chloe, sometimes. And maybe it was those similar personality traits that drew Beca to her in the first place. 

They didn’t live together. Beca could feel that it was the next expected step on her girlfriend’s end, but she didn’t feel ready to commit, yet. She liked her own space, her solitude. So Sarah spent a few nights a week at Beca’s place, like tonight, and Beca was fine with that. 

“Not really,” she replied, casting Sarah an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just-- complicated right now.” 

“You need to stop apologizing,” Sarah murmured, her expression soft and loving. Beca let her shoulders sag, ready to apologize again. “I understand. But if you do change your mind and need to let something off your chest, I’m here.” 

Beca nodded. “Thanks.” 

“Are you coming to bed?” 

“Not yet, I wanna get some work done, first.” She leaned in to peck Sarah’s lips. “You go ahead, I’ll join you soon.” 

Walking across the living room and past the huge floor to ceiling windows looking over Central Park, Beca made her way to her home office, her happy place. She had bought the Manhattan condo two years ago, making it a requirement during her house-hunt to have a large room with plenty of light and enough space to store all her records and her music equipment. It was also where she kept her Grammys and other prizes, away from the attention as nobody really stepped into her office.

She usually popped a blues album on the record player, enjoying the soothing instrumentals while she replied to various emails, but not tonight. Tonight, she grabbed a yellow legal notepad and her headphones from her desk and curled up on the leather couch tucked in the far corner, then scrolled to her Spotify playlists until she found the one she was looking for. 

she is magic

Beca couldn’t remember the last time she had listened to her Chloe playlist, one she had made back in Barden when she was hopelessly in love with her best friend. They were songs that reminded her of Chloe, or songs that Chloe liked. Or used to like, at least. 

As lyrics she knew so well poured into her headphones, blocking out the rest of the world, different ones flowed out of Beca’s heart, materializing on the paper in front of her in black ink as she scribbled across the page. Lyrics about friendship, unrequited love, and regrets for listening to her brain and not her heart all these years ago. 

It was pushing on two am by the time Beca called it a night. Her eyes burned, her mind felt mushy, but her soul felt a tiny bit lighter. Music had always been her therapy, and writing songs had always proved more efficient than paying a licensed professional, even though it had been years since Beca had last finished one, for lack of inspiration. 

Or rather, because of the absence of her muse. 

*

She woke up five hours later to a stiff neck and sore back, the bright sunlight pouring in from the windows lining one of her office walls drawing her from her sleep. She had meant to go to bed, before deciding to close her eyes for five minutes right on the couch. 

Straightening with a groan, she grabbed her phone and turned it over, hoping to see a text from an unknown number on her screen. 

Aubrey Posen [6:23am]

Any news? 

Aubrey Posen [6:37am]

Should I come to New York? 

Aubrey practiced family law up in Boston. She and Beca saw each other a few times a year, whenever Aubrey was in the city. Bella reunions were a bit more scarce now, with the girls being scattered all around the country. Their last one dated back to a year and a half ago, on the Fourth of July. 

Beca ran a hand over her face and heaved out a sigh, swiping her thumb across the screen to unlock it. 

Beca [7:16am]

No news yet. I think I’m gonna wait a few days before I head back to the club, if she doesn’t call in the meantime that is. The manager gave me serious sleazy vibes and I’m sure he could blacklist me if I’m too insistent. I don’t think there’s any need for you to come down for now. I’ll keep you posted. 

Hitting send, Beca pushed to her feet and shuffled out of her office, hanging a left down the hall towards the kitchen. A note next to her coffee thermos sat on the island. 

Missed you last night, but I hope you got whatever you needed done. I had to leave for my shift, you’re welcome to swing by for your second coffee of the day and your morning kiss ;) have a good day!

Sarah xx

Guilt swooped in over picking old feelings about an ex-almost over her girlfriend, and Beca let her head hang forward, releasing a grown. She was far from an expert at this relationship thing, but she cared about Sarah a lot and didn’t want to mess that up. 

Beca shook off the sleepiness lingering in her bones and the stiffness in her muscles with a long, hot shower, then got ready for her day. She usually got to the office at 8 sharp, but it was already 7:54 by the time she was out the door, and her commute lasted about twenty minutes, so she wouldn’t get the chance to stop by Sarah’s workplace. 

To: Sarah 

I’m sorry, I got caught up in work last night and ended up falling asleep on the couch around 2. Come over tonight? I’ll cook dinner. Have a good shift.

Her morning was spent in the studio canning vocals for girl in red’s new album, a project Beca was stocked about as she was BMLJ’s most promising artist for this year’s Grammy Awards. 

“That was awesome, Marie,” Beca spoke into the microphone, giving her a thumbs-up through the glass. “Let’s take a lunch break and resume in an hour?” 

“Sounds good,” the younger woman agreed with a smile as she took off her headphones. 

Beca headed back to her office down the hall and checked her phone for any new messages (finding none important), before shrugging on her thick winter coat and screwing her beanie over her head. 

“I’ll be back in an hour, Gina!” She told her assistant on route to the elevator. 

As Sarah’s workplace was just five blocks south from the label, Beca figured she would eat lunch there as she wasn’t able to stop by that morning. She stopped in the convenience store across the street from the coffee shop to buy Sarah her favorite magazine as she knew her break was coming up soon and she’d have something to read. 

Beca was scanning the press stand for that specific magazine, not paying attention to the person walking into the store until they spoke. 

“A pack of Marlboro, please.” 

Beca would recognize that voice anywhere. Her head snapped up so fast she felt something in her neck pull, and she was rounding the stand before she even registered giving her feet the order to move. “Chloe?” 

Chloe glanced over to her right and froze for a second, before fishing for a twenty in her jacket pocket and handing it to the cashier. “Are you following me or something?” 

Given their last encounter, Beca wasn’t surprised by Chloe’s snark, so she gave as good as she got. “You came in after I did, so maybe I should ask you that question.” 

Chloe stuffed the cigarette pack and the change into her pocket. “What do you want, Beca?” 

“To talk,” she replied, softly. “One coffee, that’s it. And if you decide you really don’t want me in your life, then I won’t bother you again. I promise.” 

Chloe seemed to ponder on that for a few beats. “One coffee.” 

“There’s a shop right across the street.” 

Taking her to the place her girlfriend worked at? Probably not the brightest idea, but she was afraid Chloe might go back on her decision if they spent too long finding someplace else. 

When Chloe nodded, Beca took the lead and stepped outside, forgetting all about that magazine as she racked her brain about what she should say. Tactfulness wasn’t her greatest suit; Aubrey would be so much better at this. 

They stepped inside Devocion and Beca picked a table in the corner, shrugging off her coat and draping it over the back of her chair. Chloe kept her jacket and beanie on, a bit hunched on herself as she sat down in the chair opposite Beca’s. 

“Beca?” 

Beca glanced towards Sarah as she approached, wearing a waist apron with the café logo on it. Her dark blonde hair was woven back in a French braid, a few strands escaping, and curiosity swirled in her green eyes as they flickered to Chloe. 

Okay, in hindsight, bringing Chloe here was a terrible idea. 

“Hey, um, Sarah, this is Chloe, a friend from college.” She cleared her throat. “Chloe, this is my girlfriend, Sarah.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Sarah replied brightly, her smile fading a little when all Chloe offered was a distant nod. Sarah met Beca’s gaze briefly, clearing her throat. “What can I get you guys?” 

“My usual. You want anything to eat, Chlo?” 

The nickname rolled off her tongue so naturally, Beca didn’t even catch it. 

Chloe shook her head. “Just a black coffee.” 

“Coming right up.” 

“Thanks,” Beca said as Sarah spun around on her heels, her focus shifting to Chloe. “So um, I wanted to apologize for the other day and putting you on the spot at the club. I just… wasn’t sure how else to talk to you.” 

“I can give you some of the money back if you need it.” 

Beca furrowed her brow, not having expected that. “No, no. I… it’s fine. I don’t care about money.” 

Something flashed in Chloe’s eyes at that, something Beca couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

Sarah came back with two coffees before she could analyze it further, setting the mugs down on the table. “Your club sandwich will be here in a few, babe.” 

Beca nodded, casting her a small, appreciative smile. 

Chloe straightened a bit in her seat, cradling the mug with both hands. “I’m not sure what you expect me to say or do, Beca.” 

Beca licked her lips. “I was hoping we could… hang out from time to time. I’ve missed you, Chlo. So has Aubrey.” 

The mention of Aubrey made Chloe lookup. “Does she live in New York, too?” 

“Um no, in Boston. She’s a lawyer. But she’d come down to have coffee, or lunch, or whatever you feel like doing. In a heartbeat.” 

Chloe shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

What little hope flared in the pit of Beca’s belly upon Chloe showing interest in Aubrey’s life vanished. “Why not?” 

“I told you. I’m not the same person anymore. I’m-- I’m not…” 

Beca tilted her head to the side. “You’re not what?” She pressed gently. 

Chloe’s gaze fleeted out the window as her rather calm demeanor now radiated agitation. Her knee started bouncing and her fingers tightened around the mug, and it was as though Chloe was battling against her own thoughts. 

She was itching to reach across the table to rest her hand over her wrist in a sort of grounding gesture, but something told her that would have the opposite effect. 

“Chloe?” Beca attempted once more, her voice as soft as she could muster, as it seemed like Chloe was on the brink of bolting. 

The tear slipping out of Chloe’s eye tore her heart into two. “I-I have to go.” 

Her chair screeched as she pushed it back roughly, and she was nearly out the door by the time Beca scrambled to her feet. 

It was lunch-hour rush in one of the busiest avenues in Manhattan, and Chloe had already disappeared in the crowd when she reached the exit, leaving Beca to helplessly wonder how someone like Chloe, once the epitome of sunshine, got herself trapped in so much darkness.

[supersickies]

Summary: "MJ wasn’t a STEM major, but if she were going for her Ph.D. she would bet he had a raging case of bronchitis. Not that the boy would ever admit to it.

“I can’t get sick MJ. It’s probably just some dust in the air.”

“Seriously Em, I just swallowed wrong that’s all.”

“My throat’s dry! I’m not sick!”

MJ had heard it all in the past few days, and she believed none of it."

OR

Peter is basically on his death bed, but MJ has a plan.

A/N: Yay! @sicktember day two! I can't lie this is really the only other sicktember fic that I have complete. Everything else is simply a WIP or merely a figment of my imagination just hoping to be made into an actual work. But who knows! Maybe I'll muster up some motivation between now and when I go see Shang-Chi in a few hours! Either way here's my first (of many) PeterMj fics for Sicktember 2021! Read it here or click the link to read on AO3! 

EDIT: LMAO I FORGOT TO POST IT BELOW THE CUT BUT ITS HERE NOW SORRY !!

MJ wasn’t really sure what she was trying to prove when she decided to take a microbiology course. Yes, she graduated from a STEM school (as valedictorian with honors, thank you very much) but college science courses like this were a whole other ballpark. Especially as a journalism major. But hey, she needed the STEM credit. That and her adorable (insufferable) boyfriend practically begged her to take the class with him. 

And who was she to say no to Peter?

So that’s how she found herself on the floor of his dorm, notecards of test questions scattered about, trying with all her might to study for their first midterm. But something was keeping her from concentrating. 

That something being her boyfriend, hacking up a lung.

Again, MJ wasn’t a STEM major, but if she were going for her PHD she would bet he had a raging case of bronchitis. Not that the boy would ever admit to it. 

“I can’t get sick MJ. It’s probably just some dust in the air.”

“Seriously Em, I just swallowed wrong that’s all.” 

“My throat’s dry! I’m not sick!” 

MJ had heard it all in the past few days, and she believed none of it. 

She had seen Peter when he was ill, long before the spider bite. In fact she had seen him sick a bunch of times, because pre-bite Peter was quite the sickly kid. She noted that this current “mystery cough” he had now was eerily similar to the one he had during their 6th grade holiday choir concert, and he sounded a lot like he did in 8th grade when he could barley talk for their group presentation on The Outsiders.

Not that she took note of all the times he was sick. She wasn’t obsessed, just observant. 

(She was a little obsessed).

But it doesn’t take an overly observant girlfriend to know that Peter should be in bed and resting right now. Especially when he could barley manage to catch a breath. 

MJ tenses as she hears the deep chesty coughs come from where Peter sits studying at his desk. She holds her tongue, not wanting to poke the bear more than she already had. Peter would never and has never in his life gotten angry at Michelle, but the more she had pushed him to admit that he wasn’t feeling well, the more annoyed he was becoming. So she stayed quiet. 

But Peter didn’t. 

It seemed as time went on, Peter’s coughs became harsher, deeper, wetter even. MJ couldn’t help but grimace at the wheeze that was also now very evident in his breathing. 

She glances up at him, his eyes glazed over with fever and his nose burred in micro-bio notes, seemingly unaware of the world around him and the virus raging in his lungs. MJ stifles a sigh, feeling fed up with her decision to keep quiet. She sets aside her flashcards and lays her head in her arms as she weighs her options. 

She could continue to push and try to beg Peter to admit that he was unwell. But Michelle knew that would only lead to more defiance, so that was out of the question. 

She could also simply force him to rest. She knew she had the capacity to get him into bed with just a look, but the idea of doing so made her feel uncomfortable. This was her boyfriend, not some animal she could just boss around.

Her feet kick in the air behind her as she continues to wrack her brain. She listens despairingly to Peter’s coughs as she thinks, and if she’s being honest, just the sound of his hacking was making her throat feel kinda scratchy too. 

Wait. That could be something. 

What if it wasn’t just Peter who wasn’t feeling their best. 

MJ was known to be prone to migraines, but hadn’t had one in a while thanks to a medication she had started. But what if, hypothetically, maybe she’d accidentally missed a dose?

MJ takes another glance at Peter, who was still zoned in on his own study guide, before making the first move in her grand plan. 

She groans. 

It’s too loud or overly painful sounding, but hopefully enough to warrant some alarm from her boyfriend. 

And it has the desired effect, as out of the corner of her eye she sees Peter stop his studying and glance at her. Now, with his attention, she takes it up a notch. She groans slightly again, this time adding a wince and an eye rub.

She hears Peter make a soft concerned noise. Bingo. 

He’s sill looking at her, so she does her best to look just as rundown and sick as she can. It works. 

“Em? You okay, babe?” Peter’s voice is gravely and nearly gone, but she can hear the worry in his tone. She’s got him right where she wants him. 

She turns her head to answer him, her eyes squinting to make it seem as though the lights were making the headache worse.

“Hm? Oh, no yeah everything’s fine, Pete.” MJ’s voice is usually deeper and raspier than most, but she really cakes it on for this. Again, desired effect achieved. 

“You really don’t sound great, Em. You sure?” His sentence is punctuated with a rough coughing fit, ironically enough. But even as the fit dies down his attention stays on MJ, who is now rubbing her temples like her life depended on it, both eyes squeezed together tightly. 

When he sees her miserable demeanor he quickly (yet shakily) abandons his own work to sit on the floor beside her. 

“Seriously, MJ.” 

She looks up at him with pitiful eyes, time to really sell it Michelle. She sighs, “M-My head just kinda hurts…It’s nothing.” She caps her Oscar worthy performance with another wince before burying her head back in her folded arms. 

She feels his way too warm hand on her back as he rubs it in an attempt to comfort her. 

He’s still buying it.

Maybe she should get a minor in theater performance?

“You sure? This doesn’t look like nothing.” He questions hoarsely. Now that he’s closer to her she can almost hear the crackling in his chest when he breathes. She had to get him to rest now or else this shit was going to get way worse. 

“I-I think I may have forgotten my pill this morning. I can’t remember. I think I was just so anxious about the exam that- I don’t know…e-everything’s so fuzzy, Peter.” She says quietly, letting out a shaky breath just like she would if her head were actually pounding. 

“Oh, Emmy.” He coos. “Come on, you need to lay down.” 

“But the midterm-“

“Hey, the midterm can wait. You’ve been working hard, okay? Take some time to take care of yourself.” 

Practice what you preach, Parker. 

“Will you lay with me?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically small as she looks up at him, eyes still scrunched in “pain” but full of emotion. She’s laying it on thick. The things she does for this boy. 

“‘Course I will, Em.” 

And jackpot. He bought it. What a sucker. At least he’s pretty! 

MJ does a victory dance in her head as she lets him help her stand and climb onto his unmade twin bed. She waits for him to climb in and join her, but frowns when he turns and begins to to walk away. She quickly grabs his wrist and once again dons her best pitiful sick person face. 

“Stay. Please.” She “begs”, which works again (of course). Peter’s face breaks into a sad smile. 

“Just turning off the lights, Emmy. I’ll be right back, I promise.” He leans over and kisses her on the forehand, and she does her best not to think of all the germs he may have actually just passed onto her. She had him in the palm of her hand, she couldn’t break the illusion now.

For the full effect, she lets out a few pained groans here and there as he turns off the ceiling and desk lights in his room, leaving them under the glow of the spidey string lights she’d bought him as a dorm-warming gift. 

He’s rather sluggish as he makes his way back and up onto his bed. MJ figures he’ll be out as soon as his feverish head hits the pillow. And she’s basically right, as he lets out a huge yawn as soon as he curls up next to her. 

“Get some rest, Em.” He murmurs, already taking his own advice. “‘M right here if you need me.” He snuggles closer to her with a sigh, his arm wrapping around her torso and face pressing into the side of her shoulder. Only moments later soft snores are coming from his mouth. 

“You too, dork.”  She responds. 

Mission accomplished, MJ thinks triumphantly. 

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 3: Boundaries and Text Messages

Regular weekly update! Look at me go! This one took me ages to write for absolutely no reason, and then ages to edit because the AO3 text editor kicked my ass. Hopefully the formatting isn’t a dumpster fire, and hopefully you enjoy! Sidenote: you are always welcome to scream about Hotch, nsforwork or not, in my inbox.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

AO3 Link

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 3, Boundaries and Text Messages

Chapter Summary: You discover that the unsub isn't what he seems, and overstep some boundaries you probably shouldn't have.

Words: 2291

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Back in Hotch’s hotel room, the three of you were sitting on the ground, surrounded by textbooks and torn-out pages covered in the seemingly mindless scrawls of the suspect. Well, you and Morgan were on the floor; Hotch was at the desk chair. Hotch wasn’t really a sit-on-the-floor type of person.

Morgan groaned and rubbed his temples for the third time in an hour. “It means nothing, man. He researched all this shit so he could commit the crimes in a way that would fuck with us.”

Hotch sighed and nodded in agreement. “It certainly seems that way. That explains the inconsistencies in the profile. However, we can still understand the subject by the signatures he chose.” He pointed to a scribbled note in a textbook section about the psychology surrounding different methods of murder: “Slashing throat? Effective + easy.”

He looked at you. “What can this note tell us about our subject?”

“Um, it doesn’t sound like the cause of death is important to him. Like it’s just something he needs to do. A necessity. Right?” you responded, somewhat unprepared for this sort of pop quiz.

“Exactly. And this tells us more about him. This isn’t about the kill; it’s about what he does beforehand. It’s about the rape,” Hotch said. “Don’t be so humble. You know more than you think you do.”

Your face felt hot, and you looked at the floor - an increasingly regular occurrence around him.

Morgan spoke up, still visibly exasperated. “If he spent so much time trying to throw us off, why did he pick victims that were so easy to tie to him?”

“He’s an idiot?” you offered before you could stop yourself.

Really professional. Holy shit, please shut up.

The faintest trace of a smirk graced Hotch’s face. “You’re not entirely wrong. He isn’t particularly intelligent, based on the information we’ve gathered so far. Not nearly as complex as we initially assumed.”

“Yeah, well, either way, he’s a nut. And Gracia can’t find anything about where he might be, and I’m starving,” Morgan said, standing up. “I’m gonna pick something up. You guys want anything?”

“Get me whatever looks good,” replied Hotch, focused on whatever written ramblings he was currently dissecting.

“You?” Morgan asked you.

“Just get me whatever you get him,” you said. “Thanks, Morgan.”

Morgan nodded and grabbed his jacket. “Be back soon.”

He closed the door, leaving you alone with your boss that you definitely didn’t have an erotic dream about the night before. You tried to focus on the textbook, but the words swam. After a few minutes, you huffed and set the book down.

“Shouldn’t we be looking for him right now instead of reading his weird psychobabble?”

Hotch looked up from his work with a raised eyebrow.

You continued, “I just mean, isn’t it more important to stop him from killing again? We already know he did it based on the stuff he wrote in the books, we don’t need to fully understand his motivations to confirm that.”

“Yes,” Hotch said, “but these offenders rarely cease their behavior out of nowhere. His appetite is alarming; he took three victims at once. We don’t know if those were even his first assaults or kills. Given that Garcia couldn’t locate any family or friends, we have no idea where he might be, so our time is best spent learning how to predict his actions and respond if someone else goes missing.”

He was correct, of course, but it just didn’t feel right - like you were sitting and waiting for something terrible to happen before you could do anything. Hotch must have sensed your frustration, because he leaned forward towards you, elbows resting on his knees, and continued in a slightly softer tone, “I know you feel helpless. We all do in situations like these. But trust me, we’re accomplishing more here than we would be trying to canvas the entire city.”

“I know,” you mumbled. “You’re right. It’s just, seeing the photos of those girls, knowing the type of person that’s out there, it’s hard to convince myself I’m doing enough just sitting here.”

“You’re not just sitting here, and you know that,” Hotch said, sternly. “You’re doing your job. People will die with or without us; our job isn’t to save them. It’s to catch the people that kill them.”

“But how do you deal with it?” you asked, growing more bold than you probably should be. You weren’t just asking about this case anymore, and you weren’t sure whether or not you wanted him to understand that. You wanted to ask him how he did it - how he woke up every morning alone, how he suffered an unimaginable loss at the hands of some of the purest evil society could produce and went back to the job that showed him more of that evil every day.

Judging by the hard set of his jaw, he knew exactly what you were getting at.

“I do it because I have to,” he said. Every word sounded measured, like he was explaining something he had dozens of times before.

“You don’t,” you whispered, but you knew you were wrong, at least to him. You knew he felt it was his responsibility to shoulder the burden so other families didn’t have to experience what he did. You had a background in psychology, and this was pretty low hanging fruit. A therapist would have a field day with him, but you weren’t a therapist, and you certainly weren’t in any position to tell your boss, a leader with decades of experience in the field, that he shouldn’t be taking all of this on.

He evidently didn’t find your comment worthy of a response, as he went back to picking through the pile of evidence. You’d hit a nerve though - his posture was more rigid, his almost-permanent scowl even more pronounced. The tension built with every second of silence, and you suddenly wished you could go back and erase the conversation.

Thinking better of trying to repair the damage you’d done, you kept the subsequent conversation focused on the profile. By the time Morgan got back, you had a fairly good idea of the suspect’s psychology, and after a quick break for fried rice and a video chat with the team, JJ set up to deliver a press conference from the police precinct in Vegas. Hotch switched on the news on the hotel TV, and you sat back to watch.

“The man currently suspected of committing the triple homicide that left bodies here in Vegas, in Phoenix, and in San Diego is an obsessive sexual predator,” JJ said to a waiting crowd of reporters and police. “He displays characteristics of a stalker, and women who interact with him may describe him as creepy or off-putting. Though murder is not his ultimate goal - in fact, he may not be completely comfortable with the act - he views it as a necessary step to dispose of his victims post-assault.”

“Do we usually do this?” you whispered to Morgan, “Release the whole profile publicly?”

“Nah, but with this guy, we want him to know we’re onto him,” he said back, trying not to disturb Hotch, who was watching JJ’s address intently. “He put so much effort into throwing us off, we gotta let him know we see through his bullshit. It’s the only play we got right now, considering we got no idea where he is.”

You turned back to the screen, where JJ had moved on to talking about the suspect. “His name is Ellory Matthews,” she said, holding up his ID photo. “He’s a 24 year old white male, about 5’9” and 200 pounds. We have strong reason to suspect he is involved and currently trying to evade the police. He is considered armed and extremely dangerous, so if you see him, please do not approach and call 911 immediately.”

Hotch, apparently having heard enough, stood up and turned off the TV. “Hopefully someone has seen him and can tell us where he is. If not, this should be enough to scare him into making a mistake.”

You tried not to think about the fact that a mistake still probably involved someone being hurt or killed.

“Get some rest. I’ll clean up here. Morgan, before you head to bed, call Garcia again and see if she’s found anything that can point us to where he might be.”

“Got it, I’ll let you know. Night, Hotch,” Morgan said.

You echoed Morgan and headed back to your room.

____________

After getting ready and tucking into bed, you found yourself completely unable to fall asleep. The conversation with Hotch kept replaying in your head - how resentful he’d looked when you asked him how he does his job, knowing that you were asking about it in relation to his family members’ deaths. He was a reasonable man, and you knew you hadn’t done anything wrong on the surface, but you shouldn't have pushed it, especially since the events you were referencing had been relayed to you by JJ in private. You weren’t even sure he wanted you to know about what happened to his wife and kid.

Shit, I might have really fucked up.

You rolled over and yanked your phone off the charger, and before you had time to convince yourself it was a bad idea, you sent him a message.

Me: Hey, sorry to bother you, I know it’s late. I just wanted to apologize if I offended you during our conversation earlier. You’re an incredible agent and boss and I didn’t mean to imply you shouldn’t be in the field for any reason.

You scrolled through Instagram mindlessly, waiting for his response, but he texted back almost immediately. Knowing him, he hadn’t even made an attempt to go to bed; he was probably still up reviewing the case.

Agent Hotchner: I understand. No need to apologize. I knew you’d hear about what happened sooner or later, and it’s natural to question my judgement, considering. I hope my actions in the field haven’t done anything to lend credence to that concern.

A weight lifted from your shoulders at his response, knowing he wasn’t angry with you.

Me: No, not at all, Sir. You and the team have been incredible and I’ve already learned so much. If I ask a question, please know it’s for my own learning rather than questioning your decisions!

Agent Hotchner: I’m glad to hear that. Please always feel free to ask questions.

Me: Thank you so much! Will do!

Satisfied with conversation, you set the phone back on the nightstand and rolled over. A few moments later, though, it buzzed again, and you looked at the screen.

Agent Hotchner: “Sir” is a little formal for text messages though, isn’t it?

You blinked, struggling to process the tone of the message. Was Aaron Hotchner making a joke? You messaged him back hesitantly.

Me: Can never be too formal! :) Is there something you’d prefer?

Agent Hotchner: Oh, I’m sure you can figure something out.

Your eyes widened at that, and you sat up in bed, staring at your screen. If you thought he was messing with you before, this was more; this was almost… flirting.

Ok, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, you thought, trying to calm your embarrassingly high heart rate. He’s older. Way older. He probably doesn’t text that much, and he probably doesn’t realize how that came off.

Me: I’ll let you know when I do.

Agent Hotchner: Please do. Sleep well.

You placed the phone back on the bedside table, almost shaking with adrenaline. What was wrong with you lately? First you have a sex dream about your boss (who’s old enough to be your parent, you might add), and now you’re freaking out because he texted you something that could possibly be, in some interpretations, construed as flirting.

Hotch was attractive, of course. You’d have to be an idiot not to admit that. He was handsome in a way you didn’t see often - not the obvious, in-your-face stunning like Morgan was, or even the adorable, put-together look that Reid gave off. Hotch was old-school handsome, like he should be in a black and white movie smoking a cigarette while his doting wife made him dinner.

Or something. It’s not like you’d thought about this before.

But even if he was handsome to such a degree that seeing him with two buttons on his dress shirt undone nearly gave you a heart attack, leaning into this fantasy you were unconsciously creating where your relationship was anything more than boss and intern had the potential to destroy your career. Hotch could read people like a book, and if you were unable to conduct yourself normally and effectively at work for any reason, your internship and aspirations would be tossed out to the street.

Time to stop being an idiot.

Sometime during your mental dissection of the text conversation and its implications, you must have fallen asleep. You were awoken to a still-dark room and someone gently squeezing your shoulder, saying your name.

“Wha- oh, it’s you. I’m so sorry, did I miss something? What’s going on?” you asked, still not fully conscious.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Hotch replied, standing over you. You were suddenly thankful for the dark room and the blanket that were covering your lack of pants. “I tried calling you and knocking, but you didn’t respond. I figured you’d forgotten to turn your ringer on.”

“Shit, yeah, I did. I’m so sorry,” you said, sitting up. “What did you need?”

“It’s Ellory Matthews. Police caught him trying to kidnap another girl. He’s in custody.”

[alia-turin]

Request:  I wish you would write a fic where Caranthir and Imlerith are being requested by their commander to capture a human sorceress, who is known for her healing powers, compel her to divulge her secrets and spells and then kill her, but things take an unexpected turn

Honestly guys I feel so bad because you sent these awesome requests and I feel like butcher them and turn them upside down :D 

In any case couple of notes - big HC that I was introduced to is that despite everything Imlerith has soft side for animals, so I’m sorry if he sounds a bit OOO, but that whole thing is really about his soft side. If you want more Imlerith + animals, please check out @erinbeast . I have also put some ideas for Caranthir that come from an old fic I posted and another fic I’m currently working on (which I might never post but there is that). I hope y’all enjoy tagging you 

AO3 Link

Warning: mentioning of injured animal 

Caranthir stepped through the portal and Imlerith followed. Neither of them was wearing their armor, at least not in full. His friend still wore gauntlets instead of gloves and some of the metal around his legs and torso. Caranthir on the other hand was more practical, no amount of armor was going to protect them where they were going so he was just wearing his normal clothes and a cloak. He knew roughly where their final destination was supposed to be, but he wasn’t sure so he ended up getting them in the forest and they were going to figure the rest.

“I still don’t understand what Eredin’s problem with that particular sorceress is.” Imlerith groaned as Carathir led the way. He could sense the bitch so it wouldn’t be that difficult to find her at that point.

“Does it matter?” they were alone, even the usual forest sounds were somehow dulled around them. He couldn’t hear birds, just the wind brushing against the leaves. “She is a human sorceress, she is better off dead.”

Imlerith raised an eyebrow but the younger man did not see him as he was leading. Since Caranthir had joined the Red Riders the two of them had become friends. He had trained him to use a sword and spear, art Caranthir never mastered, but he had become damn good with that staff of his even when he was not using magic. He had also seen him grow, become more of a Red Rider compared to the skinny kid who left Avallac’h.

“For someone who uses magic you hate other mages way too much. Jealous they might be better than you?” He mocked but also that was something Imlerith never fully understood. One day something had snapped in Caranthir. The man never showed any real hate to anything but Avallac’h, at most he would just show lack of interest in things which in Caranthir’s cold mind was probably equal to hate. But then something happened, first it was just the darker mood but then during one of their raids he saw the Navigator break the skull of a human sorcerer. Imlerith liked violence, he inflicted it however he could, it made his blood running, but that had been something new from Caranthir. Maybe their friendship was rubbing on him or maybe it was just the Eredin effect.

“There isn’t anybody who is better…” Caranthir suddenly stopped. “Do you hear that?”

Imlerith looked around and focused, he could hear it. It sounded like a dog whining somewhere close. Without thinking Imlerith traced the sound and Caranthir was following.

It didn’t take them too far until they found the wolf lying on a bed of leaves and dirt. It was injured, an arrow was sticking from one of its hind legs and another one from its abdomen. Imlerith’s jaw clenched. He liked hunting, but he never did it for sport, it had always been for food or fur and he always made sure to finish his kill fast. He had no issue killing humanoid creatures in an extremely painful way, he even took pleasure in it, but animals were innocent. Whoever did not finish that kill deserved slow and painful death.

The wolf looked at them and showed them his teeth but he looked weak. Imlerith stepped closer, the arrow in the leg did not seem so bad, but the one in the abdomen...that was nasty wound.

Caranthir just looked at the other man as he approached the wolf, the animal was growling, but there was no bite, no danger to it.

“Imlerith, it’s dying, mercy is the best thing you can do for it.” He knew his friend felt some kinship to animals. Everyone always thought Imlerith to be mindless brute, Eredin’s rabid dog, but that was just part of the story. There is a side that almost nobody had seen.

“Maybe Avallac’h should have shown you some mercy.” the other man pointed at his face where Caranthir’s scars were.

“Maybe your mother should have shown some mercy when she saw you are barely intelligent to get dressed.” the Navigator bit back without hesitation. That’s what they did, Imlerith made fun of the scars on his face, the only person he tolerated to do that, and he made fun of Imlerith’s intelligence, just like true brothers.

Caranthir sighed. He wasn’t heartless, he just didn’t see a point in letting the poor animal suffer. He knelt next to Imlerith and placed a hand on the wolf’s head despite the sharp teeth that were barren.

“What are you doing?” Imlerith grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

“I’m not killing it. I can relate to the need to protect innocence and purity in its clearest form.” Imlerith had no idea what that meant. Caranthir had the habit to speak like Avallac’h at times, half of a conversation that made no sense to anyone. He made fun of him for that, but not now. The navigator freed his hand and placed it on the wolf again. Second later the animal was asleep and the laboured breathing was calmer. “We can break the arrows, but we should not pull them out, we need to deal with that bitch, which would be a quick job and then we can take it to Tir na Lia. It should be asleep for about two hours and it doesn’t feel pain, just make sure it doesn’t lose any more blood, because that will kill it.”

Caranthir didn’t have much hope for the animal surviving, judging by the blood around, it had been like that for some time, and his healing powers have always been the weakest from his many talents.

Imlerith scooped the wolf in his arm and followed Caranthir. He constantly looked at the animal to make sure it was still breathing. He decided he would name it Treise, a strong name for a beast like that. It wasn’t too long when they found an old log cabin deep in the woods. Caranthir did not stop, the man had no fear from some human witch, Imlerith followed but left the wolf outside, to prevent any further harm. He had seen mages fight and he also knew the pleasure Caranthir felt in making them suffer.

The Navigator was the first to enter the log cabin, bending his neck in an awkward position to get through the human sized door. Nothing impressive inside, wooden table, chairs, a bed in the far corner. The bitch was sitting next to the fireplace and turned in surprise when they walked in.

“Who…” she started a question, but he never allowed her to finish. His first attack knocked her on the ground, he wasn’t going to kill her, he was going to take his time.

Imlerith watched as Caranthir attacked the witch, she was a pretty thing for a human, small and fragile. A predator grin decorated his lips. Maybe he would let Caranthir have his fun using her to mop the floor and then he will have his type of fun.

“Wait!” the woman was on her hands and knees, her hair was a mess and there was blood running from her mouth. “I can help you.” Caranthir laughed mockingly. “I know you brought an injured animal with you, I can sense it, I’m a healer, I can help.”

Without hesitation Imlerith placed a hand on the navigator’s shoulder. Caranthir turned toward him, there was cold fire burning in his eyes. Funny how usually the roles were reversed. It had always been the younger man stopping him, but now Imlerith had other concerns than simple bloodlust.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, digging his fingers a bit deeper in the other man’s shoulder, his hand sinking in the soft first of his cloak.

“I cannot beat him.” she nodded at Caranthir. “And I don’t know why you are here but it isn’t for fortune reading. I help your wolf, you let me live.”

“No.” Caranthir said, almost offended.

“Deal.” Imlerith spoke at the same time and they both exchanged looks.

The woman wasn’t stupid and she did not wait for the two of them to sort their small differences. She got on her feet with visible effort and slowly limped toward the door.

“Please tell me the plan is to let her heal the wolf and then we kill her?” Caranthir said through his teeth, his jaw clenched. Imlerith did not answer. He wasn’t sure what the plan was. “You will tell Eredin. I’m not dealing with that.”

When they went out Caranthir walked to the nearest tree and pressed his back against it, his arms crossed over his chest, his cold eyes just pinned on the woman.

“It’s very weak.” the witch said as she placed her hand on the animal.

“Oh great, it’s very weak. Must have missed that.” the navigator said sarcastically, Imlerith couldn’t stop the smile on his lips.

The woman ignored them and started working. She pulled what was left from the arrows, thick blood started pooling on the fur but she worked quickly. She chanted a spell and pulled some herbs from her pocket that she applied to the wounds. Couple of minutes later she got up, the animal was still asleep and Imlerith got worried for a moment. Did she trick them? Did she kill the wolf as a final ‘fuck you’? If that was the case, whatever Caranthir was planning to do to her, would be nothing compared to what he would do to her.

“I cannot do anything about the lost blood.” she finally said. “And I cannot wake it up because of his spell. But once it wakes up it will be weak, it won’t be able to take care of itself until its body recovers from the loss.”

Caranthir forced an arrogant smile on his lips. Of course she couldn’t she was just a stupid human mage. It was surprising that Imlerith had been so...soft, between the two of them he had always been the nicer one, had he changed so much? No, it wasn’t that. He felt pity for the animal as well and didn’t really want it to die, but he was the logical one, Imlerith was impulsive. Where was Avallac’h now to see him? Where was his old teacher to call him rash?

“Am I free to go?” the woman asked, her eyes shifting between the two of them. Imlerith nodded, Caranthir was not really sold on the idea, but nodded as well.

He opened a portal and waited for Imlerith to grab the wolf and step through it, then he followed. They went straight to Imlerith’s apartments in the castle in Tir na Lia.

“We are not telling Eredin.” his friend finally said as he gently placed the wolf on his bed. He had never seen Imlerith being gentle with anything.

“We are not telling Eredin.” Caranthir repeated. “You are telling Eredin.”

“No.” Imlerith was still looking at the wolf. “We are waiting for a couple of days, and then we will do what we were supposed to do.”

After Caranthir didn’t speak for a while, he turned to make sure the navigator was still there.

“Why?” the younger man finally asked.

“Because that wolf means more to me than any other life out there and I’m paying her by giving her a couple of days.” Imlerith wasn’t sure if the navigator understood, neither of them was affectionate to anything. He expressed his emotions with violence and Caranthir...emotions did not come easy with him.

Caranthir nodded. He could relate, probably the reason he reacted the way he did was just because he did not expect Imlerith to be so...kind. But he could understand the desire to protect something.

[frightfurtabby]

Himikiyo Week 2021 Day 5: Anniversary Party

// Cute and fluffy, make-up smearing kissies, slow dancing, and awards... enjoy~

Word count: 1434

Links

AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/34196977

Amino-  (coming soon)

I need to catch up on cross-posting to amino so I’ll be doing that too.

//

The anniversary party was an important occasion. All actors from the danganronpa franchise were coming together for this event. 10 years ago was the release of the first series starring Makoto Naegi as the protagonist, since then there have been 3 further series and a spin off that took place between the first 2, though it had aired afterward. And they were all gathered together.

There were already plans for another spin-off that was summer camp themed and would be finished later the next year. It was really big but sometimes there were years of waiting between new productions and that led to a lot being covered by tabloids and other media outlets. Korekiyo moved up to a small town in Aomori prefecture with Himiko to stay as quiet as possible, keeping in contact with certain people from among their castmates.

The couple were sitting together in a backstage private dressing room once again, Himiko taking time to brush Kiyo’s hair. Most of their outfits were already in place, a puffy purple dress for Himiko, her matching magic hat sat on the table in front of them.It was so pretty and only a little bit difficult to move around in at first before she was getting used to it. The anniversary celebrations included a dance in the ballroom and awards for the newest batch of fan popularity polls.

“Babe are you sure you want to go for that hat, I don’t know if it fits with the rest of what you’ve got going on.”

Kiyo was wearing a white button-up long sleeved blouse with a burgundy vest, a green coat over both and a long black skirt. Near Himiko’s hat was their own for this occasion, a black fedora which was what she was referring to in her comments..

“I personally think it looks nice.” Kiyo gave an exaggerated pout.

Touching up both their make-up was all the couple needed before they got to head out to the event proper. Kiyo hadn’t decided on lipstick before they had to go to avoid running late. They could do without that but not without eating, which they had to finish on the way out.

When she was finished brushing she helped gather their locks together and band it to make a ponytail.

She chuckled. “Of course you do, well since you insist. Here, have this one, I think this color will compliment everything nicely. Now come closer!” She grabs a nice dark blood red shade. Kiyo had used it plenty of times, including the year they dressed up as a vampire for Halloween, so it was a classic go-to.

Kiyo leaned in like she asked. Puckering their lips out to give her a more complete canvas for her to work with. However, before Himiko touched the tip of the lipstick onto their lips, Kiyo stopped for a moment.

“I wouldn’t want to smudge this so soon, so please give me a kiss?”

Himiko giggled. “Alright, okay. But first…” Her free hand extended and her pointer finger booped them right on the nose.

The former Ultimate Anthropologist feigned shock. “What did I deserve that for?”

“For being cute, ya silly goose.”

They were gearing up for a follow up joke but they were pulled in by the collar and smooched. They leaned into and savored it. Even if it did ruin the set-up, it was fine. Any time was a lovely time to smooch Himiko.

“Okay, now we can do it.” she chirped.

Kiyo re-assumed the proper position and reached out, gently caressing Himiko’s cheek. A deep look into her eyes. “Alright, go ahead.”

She reached up to hold them still with one hand and eased the lipstick close. Drawing it, focused as close as she can on the precision. Even though they had just kissed, she was tempted to ruin it again.

So she did.

They giggled as soon as she let them go. “God I’m so lucky wearing a mask is my trademark. I’m sure people would have a field day if they actually saw how smudged you always end up making this.”

“Yeah well, I’m lucky to have you.” She said, making cute faces in their direction.

Kiyo pulled their mask up and put the fedora on, taking Himiko’s hand as a way to get up out of the chair.

They turned and exited the door. Upon entering the hallway they met up with Shuichi and Rantaro, spending time catching up. Talking about how the cats were doing, how busy it was lately, more recent gigs they’d lent their talents to, that kind of thing.

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

Upon entering the ballroom, the couple noticed there were danganronpa themed decorations all over. A big banned reading “Happy 10th Anniversary'' went along the rafters. It was certainly doing its job of seeming like a mix between prom and a high school reunion.

At least this one was full of people both of them liked better than most people who’d been at either of their actual proms from back in the day. Even with personal problems here and there it was still more tolerable than that.

A slow waltz tune echoes around the ballroom. All the couples were paired up, most having stuck together pretty much the whole time up to this point regardless, but the Junko was making a big deal up on stage about how  “If you’re not already, couple up and dance!”

Kiyo’s hand was around the back of Himiko’s head. They took time to pet her and look into her eyes as they performed slowly just like they had practiced. It felt nice and warm. Both could close their eyes for a bit and had a good amount of space to nuzzle up.

“I love you dear.”

“I love you too.”

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

A few dance tracks later, Junko Enoshima got up and did a little bit of MC’ing. “And now everyone, having a good time? Well, it’s time to announce the first batch of winners from the polls! And here to read those names is someone we all know and love. The mysterious…”

She started getting a head count of all the danganronpa alumni, dragging it on for comedic effect. “The mysterious 40-somethingth student that was lying hidden somewhere in this very building… Mukuro Ikusaba!”

The crowd of students clapped, Himiko and Kiyo included. As Mukuro took time to further introduce the concept, showing off the envelopes for good measure, the lovers had a small conversation.

“Do you think we’ll win anything this year?”

“I hope we do. I’m not sure though, since competition is very stiff in all categories.”

“It’d be really cute if we won the couples one” she smiled, holding their arm close. “We may not have won it yet, but there's always a chance.”

“I’ve seen a little bit of buzz online telling fans to vote for us. So we might pull it off.”

It came time, the third category: the cutest off-screen couple. The options were always more open, as there were very few canonical on-screen romances in the show. Mukuro cut open this envelope, like she had done the previous two.

The MC cleared her throat. “Ahem. The winners are… Shinguuji Korekiyo and Yumeno Himiko”

The V3 cast members hooted and hollered. The other 2 main series had just picked up 1 win each and usually SDR2 would sweep these anniversary award contests. Picking up a surprise win would hopefully be a sign.

Escorted by several classmates like they just scored the winning points in a sport together, Himiko and Kiyo went up, and had to make up a speech off the cuff. That’s how much of a last second blindside actually pulling it off was.

Himiko took her spot close to Kiyo’s side and they both stood in front of the mic. Kiyo gently taps it and clears their throat.

“Thank you all, I’m… surprised. I thought for sure it would be another year of us being passed up.” they said

She added “The fans really pulled through!” She raised her award and held it up to clink it with Kiyo’s. “I’m not sure what else to even say.”

“We are grateful for the nomination, and thank everyone who cast a vote.” Asked if they had anything more to say, Kiyo finished with “As difficult as some fans can be, it's always good to feel appreciated.”

Everyone went back down, further winners were to be announced. Neither cared much, but would support friends who could get it. For now all they wanted was to cuddle up together on the bleachers. The rest of the night was for relaxing.

[preathfics]

This might be a complex question but when someone writes a fanfic how do people see it? Like how does it get exposure at first?

A few quick points:

1) Simply posting it will get eyes. By default, AO3 lists the most recent fics first. So, posting will get eyes particularly if you post during a “slower” time when others aren’t publishing much.

Relatedly, if you're writing a multi-chapter fic, update regularly. Often, people won't start a multi-chaptered fic fic until they trust they'll be getting regular updates. (Note: This doesn't mean dump the first 5 chapters across 5 days and then never post again or wait a year to post Chapter 6). The least likely fics to be read are often the 1/? fics.

I personally highly recommend writing your first multi-chapter fic in it's entirety before posting it—even if you need to proof-read/edit it before posting once a week or so. I think I'm in the minority here, though, and very few people take this approach (*cough* which is why AO3 is full of so many abandoned fics)1.

If you're writing your first fic and it's a one shot, it will be more likely to be read if you write additional one shots. If people like something you've written, they will often follow it to your author page, where they can find other fics. Put simply, the more you write the more likely people will be to read.

2) Think about the public face of your fic for people skimming through the relationship tag. People are more likely to read fics that catch their interest from the outside. This is often a function of a combination of the title, summary, author name, and tagging. The more clear, unique, memorable, and accurate these elements are (see the links above for tips on generating them) the more likely people will be to recall your fic, and often, to open and read it. These elements are usually the last thing people generate, and people often half-ass them. However, it really does affect whether someone clicks or not, so it's worth putting the time in even though you're excited to publish ASAP.

3) You can promote your fic on your tumblr or even on the preathfics discord in the plug yourself channel. There's also a channel on there for writers wanting feedback if you want help while you're writing your fic/choosing summaries and tags!

1. I did not do this with my first fic. I have now abandoned it, and I regret it.

[rosy-cheekx]

Make A Wish

Book passage:  Elfriede Jelinek, The Piano Teacher

Me? Posting an unprompted fic? 2021 is starting off wild!

AO3 Link here

Summary: Martin knows just how to celebrate Jon’s 35th birthday. It’s soft and beautiful and speaks of a bright future. 

Martin doesn’t know how to shop for Jon. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t really want trinkets or the little gifts Martin would think to buy for a significant other. (If he does want them, at least, he doesn’t say it.) Things he needs, like clothes, he buys himself, doesn’t wait for an occasion. Overall, Martin would not describe Jon as materialistic.

Books are the exception. Books are always the exception for Jon. While Jon is not materialistic, he is usually sentimental. He keeps things for as long as he can, letting them wear and wear til they’re no longer usable, like his shoes. Especially pictures. Jon never throws away pictures. (Martin knows why and snaps as many Polaroids as he can of his partner, himself, their friends, even their cat, hanging them around the house in tiny frames as reminders.) But his books are in and out of the shelves like they run a bookshop of their own. Martin has heard the stories of his partner’s reading habits as a youth, knows that Jon’s reading habits are challenging, to say the least. Before they’d moved in together, though, he hadn’t realized that every time he was at Jon’s the bookshelves were almost entirely unique to the last visit. New titles, rarely the same authors, with no seeming organization to the assemblance. Martin knows this now, knows that once a fortnight Jon packs up all the books he’s read and takes them to their local charity shop. It’s his little ritual, and the bug-eyed look of confusion Martin had received when he had asked him about it the first time was priceless.

“I just--don’t need them anymore?” He says, like it’s a question. “I’m not going to read them again.”

“Really?” Martin raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I took you to be a bit of a hoarder when it comes to books, if the statements in your office were any indication. And it’s our flat, so they’re our books. What if I want to read them?”

“Please.” Jon scoffs. “That’s entirely different. I don’t enjoy­- well. They’re work, these are not.”

Still, after this, Jon includes Martin in his ritual, giving him synopses from books he thinks Martin might enjoy and adding the Blackwood-Approved books to the other bookshelf. Martin is quite proud of his bookshelf, identical in structure to Jon’s but entirely more organized: books ordered by genre, then by author, with figurines, photos, and plants acting as weights and decor. Jon’s deviates between sparse and overflowing, books stacked however they will fit, with no rhyme or reason to their order.

Martin doesn’t know how to shop for Jon, but he’s learned quickly that Jon isn’t a Things person. Jon is an Experiences person. The moments he treasures are the ones where he and Martin are happy to be in each other’s presence and experiencing new things together. Ice skating, picnics, hiking, cinemas, all the quintessential cheesy dates, the ones he would’ve guessed, way back when, before he knew the real Jon, this Jon, he would have snubbed his nose at.

Jon’s birthday is coming up. He’s turning 35 and is all too self-conscious about the fact. Martin ribs him a little; he’s older by seven months, after all, “you’re making me feel old, Jon!” Their ritual has become to call off work and spend a day together on Jon’s birthday. No gifts, no fanfare, just a day doing an activity Martin has planned. It’s perfect usually, Jon’s delighted smile and bright eyes when he thanks Martin with a kiss is all the satisfaction he needs. But this is 35, it needs to be special. It needs to be perfect.

---

Martin blinks awake to the steady, calming drum of rain on their bedroom window. He pats out blindly for his glasses, haphazardly set on his bedside table, and pushes them on his face, before rolling back onto his side and tucking an arm around Jon’s waist and nuzzling into his neck. “Happy birthday, love,” he murmurs, carding his other hand through Jon’s tangled curls. He smiles softly as he watches his partner; Jon always grumbles that he looks so much older than he is, but when he’s sleeping, Martin swears he looks timeless, a specimen of perfect beauty against the crisp black sheets. Jon shifts in his arms, turning to face him, and squints blearily at Martin. Jon, for all his sleepless nights back at the archives, is not a morning person.

“Hm-mar’in?” he mumbles, irises stained forever green. He clears his throat and scrubs at his eyes. God, he looks just like a cat. “G’mornin’,” he says, a little more comprehensible, voice rough-hewn from sleep.

“Morning, love.” Martin kisses his forehead, between his eyebrows. “Happy birthday,” His nose, cold from a chilly autumn night. “Ready for a good day?” His lips now, soft and warm. Jon sighs underneath him, presses himself into the kiss, slots himself into the Jon-shaped space in Martin’s arms.

When Martin shifts away to sit up, Jon audibly whines, grabbing at Martin’s hand to pull him back. “You’re so warm, don’t go,” he pleads. Martin chuckles and squeezes his hand.

“It’s half nine. You want breakfast, don’t you? We have an agenda to follow, don’t forget.” But Jon shakes his head and tugs again.

“Birthday Ruling,” he cites solemnly, stretching as he says it. (Again, like a cat, the way he arches his back. Is that on purpose? Martin is pretty sure he’s seen Reggie—Her Regency—do the exact same thing.) “By royal decree, you have to stay here until I’m awake enough to help you with breakfast.”

“Well,” Martin chuckles, shaking his head to himself and tucking himself around Jon’s thin form. “I can’t refuse a royal decree, now, can I?”

Breakfast becomes brunch, and once the pair are awake tea, cut fruit, and omelets are prepared and eaten on the couch. Jon being left-handed and Martin right, they sit on their perspective sides so they can hold hands and not inhibit the other from eating.

“So,” Jon prompts, eyeing Martin from his peripheral as he watches him wash dishes. “What are your secret plans? Am I allowed to know yet?”

“Hmm.” Martin considers his question, running a plate through his hands as he dried it, solemn contemplation on his face. “No.”

“Mar-tiiin,” Martin is almost worn down by that plea, a sound he doesn’t think anyone else who has ever met Jonathan Sims could fathom coming from him. A bloom of warmth in his chest; a reminder he will never feel lonely again.

“But I think you’ll figure it out,” he compromises, grinning to himself. His plan had come to him in a sudden realization at work and Martin did think it was some of his best work yet. “Here’s your hint: you may want to bring a canvas.”

Jon’s face is a measured calm. “We’re going shopping?” Martin just shrugs, winking.

-

They take a cab and the rain pounds down on the roof, the repetitive noise a balm against the cold and wet.  Martin really got lucky today; the sound of rain is one of Jon’s favorites. He sighs inwardly as Jon rests his curls, slightly damp from their wait for the cab, on his shoulder and closes his eyes, basking in the warmth of his boyfriend and the pleasant drumming.

Jon’s eyes opened when he felt the cab pull to a stop, and he took their surroundings in with the quick analytical eye of an ex-Archivist. Martin felt his cheeks growing warm with excitement as they stepped out of the cab and paid. The building before them, like most Scottish buildings, was made of uneven stone. There was a little garden, mostly rocks with some shrubbery dotted between, and the pathway, also stone, though a flatter smoother variety, led to the door, which read The Watermill in blue and white lettering. “Martin?” Jon threaded his fingers through Martin’s, eyes wide.

“It’s a bookshop, Jon. It’s got reading nooks, and a café, and I swear I’ll buy you any books you want. We can stay as long as we like. We can read as much as we want.”

Three short squeezes to Martin’s hand. Oh. He was starting to ramble. He returns the answering four. “Martin, love, it sounds perfect. But it’s raining.” Right. A drop of rain rolls down Martin’s nose, and he shivers.  “Let’s get inside.”

Martin is glad he brought a tote, a canvas bag with the name of Jon’s university emblazoned on the sides. He follows Jon through every aisle as Jon analyzes every book like their dogs in show. He scans the titles, covers and authors with precision, sometimes returning them with delicate hands, sometimes reading descriptions or thumbing through the pages, before deciding their worth and either reshelving it or handing it to Martin. Martin is distinctly reminded of being an Archival Assistant, helping Jon prioritize case files, except the expression on Jon’s face isn’t furrowed and grim, it’s near-rapturous awe as he selects and examines the books. There is no evident consistency to the books Jon picks, ranging from YA fiction to historical documentation to travel books of places he knew they’d probably never visit, though he always takes Martin’s suggested reads, nodding dutifully and running his hand down the spine before placing it in the ever-weighing bag on Martin’s arm.

They spend nearly an hour and a half roaming shelves before Jon is satisfied with this first load. Martin is grateful. His shoulder is starting to hurt from the nearly full canvas he’s hoisted on his shoulder. Martin leads his partner to a small corner, something that can only be described as a nook. There’s a small, well-worn sofa, a table with coasters, and a coffee table in front of the sofa. The whole space is cast in warm orange-yellow light, courtesy of the standing lamps, and Martin can imagine this is a great place to curl up and fall asleep.

Curl up they do, Martin sitting with a few books of his own beside him and Jon leaning against Jon’s side, sprawling over the majority of the couch. Martin tucks an arm over Jon’s chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of the space where collarbone meets rib, and they read. They read in silence for most of the morning, Jon flipping through his books at a truly astounding pace (Jon thinks its left over from his Archival Spooky Powers, Martin thinks he’s just a nerd), pausing occasionally to read Martin a line he finds interesting. It’s a yellow paperback now, something about psychopathy, and he begins to read out an interview the author had with a man who claims he should not have been diagnosed as a psychopath.

“D’you think Jonah was a psychopath?” Jon asks, brow furrowed as he reads the qualifying characteristics. “He had the ‘grandiose sense of self-worth’ and ‘cunning/manipulation’ down pat.”

Martin hums, glancing over Jon’s shoulder to read the rest of the Psychopath Test. “Lack of remorse,” he points. “Lack of empathy for sure. Someone with empathy doesn’t implant visions of their dead father into the head of their employee. Speaking of, we should have Melanie and Georgie over soon.” Jon nods against his chest. “I’d call him charming, too, actually,” nudging Jon gently. “Especially with new employees. Remember how he—”

“Called me into his office nonstop and ‘checked in?’ Yeah, I remember.” Jon sighed and smoothed the page down. “Can you call it ‘a parasitic lifestyle’ when your employees are bound under your servitude for eternity or until they die?” Jon scoffs. “I don’t think the DSM is ready for Smirke’s Fourteen.”

“Maybe not. Maybe the sixth edition will be.” Martin presses a kiss to the top of Jon’s head and turns back to his own book.

-

“Hungry?” Martin asks, nudging Jon as his stomach gurgles for the third time in as many minutes. Jon jumps a little, likely having forgotten Martin was there.

“Erm-I mean, a little.” Even after being together for so long, Jon still hesitates to let Martin buy him food. (“Martin, I have money. You don’t- you don’t have to-” but whatever offending muffin or cone of chips would be pressed into his hand and he would thank Martin, sheepish, and take a bite.)

“Chai latte? Something sweet?” Martin asks, nudging Jon out of his side and feeling the cold spot left in his wake. “Its your birthday, come on.” Jon sighs and relents, and Martin swear he can hear him roll his eyes as he walks away.

Martin orders two chais and a few cupcakes (chocolate for Jon, carrot cake for him) from the café in the front of the bookshop and joins an ever-growing queue of patrons waiting to get their own warm treats. The rain must have driven people in in droves. Never mind it, though, their corner feels empty enough. He thinks he sees a spider on the back of a woman’s shirt in front of him, and flinches before realizing, oh, it’s just a bit of string. He takes a slight step back anyways. He didn’t used to do that.

“Order for Martin?” An American voice, uni student probably. He thanks her and makes a point to drop a few quid in the tip jar, seeing it frustratingly empty for such a busy café.  

Martin takes a small porcelain plate in each hand, a mug and pastry balanced on each, and makes his way carefully back to the sofa where he had left Jon. Only, he couldn’t see his curly hair, tied up in his half-bun, over the back of the sofa. Did he go to the loo?

It’s when Martin steps over to the side of the couch to set the plates down that he bursts into laughter. Jon is sprawled in a way that seems completely unconducive to reading: his knees are hooked over the sofa, so his socked feet (shoes neatly deposited next to his hips) are on the cushion itself. His torso is stretched on the warm, well-swept wood floor and his head (and his book) are tucked under the coffee table; arms locked over his head so he can read on his back. It looks ridiculous, he cannot fathom what possessed Jon to sit like this and not on his back on the couch.

Jon hears his laughter and arcs his neck, trying to see Martin’s face. “It was…comfortable?” he tries helplessly, giggling awkwardly. “Oh, piss off,” he sighed, inelegantly worming his way out from under the seat.

“Come on, old man.” Martin grins, handing him the cupcake he’d bought for him, with a single purple candle pressed into it. “Make a wish!”

“It’s not even lit,” Jon protested, cheeks flushing.

“Want me to sing instead? I can.” Martin took a deep breath. “Happy Bir-”

“N-no! Martin, no!” Jon pressed a hand over his mouth, though he was giggling madly at Martin’s wild expression. “I’ll blow it out. Just hush.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then let out a breath in a sigh. His eyes were soft, smile to match. “I…I don’t have anything to wish for.”

Martin’s turn to blush. “Just-just shut up and eat your cake,” he mumbled, hiding his smile in a sip of his tea.

-

Maybe its how at-peace he feels, maybe it’s his ADHD (its definitely the ADHD), but Martin has no idea how long he’s been reading. He’s brought out of his reverie, his copy of In Cold Blood almost finished (he’s read it before, but god he loves this book so much), by a low noise he can’t pick out at first. It’s quiet, soothing, its right next to him.

Oh. Oh. It’s Jon. This one, a real compulsion left over from his time as an Archivist, Jon is reading aloud to himself, his voice the sonorous, resonant tone of a man performing for himself. Martin puts his book down carefully, trying not to alert Jon to his awareness, and listens, letting the words wash over him. Jon’s voice has always been able to capture Martin’s attention, even before the Eldritch Spooky Magic that eventually attached itself to it.

“Klemmer stands there, gazing at her.   “Erika doesn’t want a silence to develop, so she utters a platitude. Art is platitudinous for Erika because she lives off art. How much easier it is for the artist, says the woman, to hurl feelings or passions out of himself. When an artist resorts to dramatic devices, which you so greatly esteem, Klemmer, he is simply utilizing bogus methods while neglecting authentic ones. She talks to prevent the eruption of silence. I, as a teacher, favor undramatic art – Schumann, for instance. Drama is always easier! Feelings and passions are always merely a substitute, a surrogate for spirituality. The teacher yearns for an earthquake, for a roaring, raging tempest to pounce upon her. That wild Klemmer is so angry that he almost drills his head into the wall. The clarinet class next door, which he, the owner of a second instrument, has been frequenting twice a week, would certainly be astonished if Klemmer’s angry head suddenly emerged from the wall, next to Beethoven’s death mask. Oh, that Erika, that Erika. She doesn’t sense that he is actually talking about her, and naturally about himself as well! He is connecting Erika and himself in a sensual context, ejecting the spirit, that enemy of the senses, that primal foe of the flesh. She thinks he is referring to Schubert, but he really means himself, just as he always means himself whenever he speaks.   “He suddenly ventures to adopt a familiar tone with Erika; using a formal tone, she advises him to remain objective! Her mouth puckers, willy-nilly, into a wrinkly rosette; she cannot control it. She controls what the mouth says, but she cannot control the way it presents itself to the outside world. She gets goosebumps all over.”

Martin closes his eyes against the words, a shiver running down his spine, starting at the top of his skull. It’s a feeling he gets so rarely now, the feeling of being so absolutely content in the presence of another person that any fog he may have is physically expunged from him. Not that there is any, but it’s a safeguard; a reminder to himself that he is not Lonely anymore and will never be lonely again. It can’t get him, not here, not with Jon sprawled, almost in his lap, reading and sipping tea and letting the only thing they worry about be whether they fed the cat this morning (Jon did, of course, Reggie is not one to let them forget her morning meal).

“Martin?” Jon’s voice cuts through his quiet contemplation. “You alright?” He’s tilting his head back, almost upside down to look at Martin’s face. “I felt you shudder.” Of course, even deep in his trance of this story he had felt Martin shift.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he smiles reassuringly, carding the hair off Jon’s forehead. “I’m not feeling lonely, not even a little bit.” He used to do it a lot in the safehouse, and fog would roll off him in droves. Jon would hold him through it all. “I think it just happens now like part of an immune system, just checking in when I’m feeling emotional.”

“Emotional?” Jon looks a little relieved, but not entirely. He sits up, glancing down at his page number (Martin could never figure out how Jon did that, remembered his page number instead of using a bookmark) and cups Martin’s face gently, searching it. “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing, Jon, I promise. That was why I was emotional,” he admits, feeling a little sheepish. “It’s just good to feel happy. It feels good to be with you, to be at peace, to not worry about what is going to happen tomorrow and whether we’re going to die.”

Martin blushes, feeling heat spread through his face. It feels good to say it out loud. “Happy birthday, Jon. I love you.”

-

They leave with bags full of books, smiles on their faces and the moon casting a faint light on their backs. Martin falls asleep in the cab on the way home, his head lilting onto Jon’s shoulder. When Jon wakes him up, leading his sleepy partner up the stairs, 

Jon thinks 35 maybe won’t be so bad, after all.