#for him it's an intimate moment. it's like the umbrella scene but physically. he's so vulnerable when +

[rosekasa]

i miss chat noir kissing ladybug's cheek....

[4am-enha]

pouring.

description/tags: heavily inspired by a scene from the kdrama “something in the rain” on netflix. reader is basically a coffee addict who meets someone new in the cafe on their break, but there’s a rainstorm outside. heavy on acts of service jay in this, cheesy romantically suggested gestures, rain, umbrellas, proximity, catching feelings, old fashion love.

genre: fluffy, fluff, & more fluff!

pairing: jay x reader (y/n), gender neutral reader.

warnings: none that i am aware of :P

wc≈ 2.3k, one shot format

preview: “The tension between you was so thick, you could almost suffocate. But maybe it was just you getting in your own head. This didn’t have to be a slightly intimate interaction, he could just be being friendly.”

You were on a no-caffeine streak for a while now. Almost a week. Maybe it wasn’t really that impressive, but a week of no coffee for you was never heard of before. You were actually really proud of it and began bragging to people how you hadn’t touched a drop of caffeine, and how you intended not to touch any for at least a month.

But that all came crumbling down today. You were so sluggish, it was actual torture to not drink any coffee this morning. What really did not help were the strangely dark clouds outside and the type of air that just fills you with grogginess for the whole day. Winter was approaching pretty fast this year, so that would explain this type of weather. These days, it felt like it was dark when you left for work, and dark when you returned home.

All your progress, ruined, before it had even really gotten somewhere just for one cup of your favourite pick-me-up drink this morning. Was it really worth it?

Absolutely.

To be completely honest, you did hesitate for a moment about it outside the door of your favourite regular cafe, but as soon as that beautiful smell of coffee beans hit your nose, and the warm embrace of the cozy cafe ambiance with just one-half step inside of the building hugged you- you were completely convinced it was all going to be more than just a little worth it. You actually physically felt yourself hold back an urge to skip inside with excitement.

“Please hold it for me!” A man's voice urged from behind you. Of course, you held it for him. He was quite tall and looked very neat and put together. Well, ignoring the slight panic in his eyes and the messy bundle of things in his arms.

“Thank you! I’m sorry, my bag has just come loose and I'm trying to hold all the stuff in,” he laughed nervously as he walked past you into the cafe.

“No problem,” you laughed lightly back.

You approached the pale, slender cashier who immediately recognized you, “Y/n? It’s been a while. Where have you been?”

“It’s only been a week, Sunghoon, don’t be dramatic,” you joked.

“Well, what can I get you? The usual?”

“Yes please!” You beamed.

He smiled, “Alright! Cash or card?”

You pulled out your card and handed it to the barista, zoning into empty space as you waited for the payment to go through.

“Oh, do you have another card? This one declined.”

“Oh my gosh, what?” You took the card back from him, realising you had brought an expired card with you. You were so tired this morning, you didn’t check what you had picked up before you left for your break. You felt around your pockets for a minute, but deep down you hopelessly knew you had left all other cards and cash in your bag which was sitting pretty under your work desk.

By now, there were a few customers behind you. You didn’t want to make things complicated.

“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel my order-“

“Allow me,” the guy you had held the door for earlier came forward from behind you in the line and tapped his card against the machine.

“Oh my goodness, no! Please cancel that!” You panicked and yelled at Sunghoon, the barista.

“Wait, don't! Please, let me pay for it. It’s nothing, really!” The generous guy joined in with a panicked response.

“But-“

“Okay not trying to be rude here guys, but can you decide. Please?” Sunghoon pleaded. He was not paid well enough for this and other customers were already mumbling and grumbling amongst themselves in line.

You looked at the stranger with an apologetic face, but he only continued to reassure you that it was okay. He really insisted on paying. You nodded at Sunghoon in approval of not cancelling the payment after all.

Sunghoon then continued to take the man's order, leaving you and the stranger standing awkwardly beside each other waiting for the drinks to be made.

“You really didn’t have to do that you know,” you began, breaking the silence.

“I wanted to,” he smiled and paused for a moment, “what’s your name by the way? I don’t believe I have ever seen you around here before.”

“Oh really? That’s a surprise. I’m always out and about, and as for this cafe I’m kind of a regular,” you smiled.

He hummed in understanding, “I could guess by the way the barista seemed to know you.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I suppose it's a little obvious.”

“And your name?”

“Oh sorry, it’s y/n. How about you?”

“You can call me Jay.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jay.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, y/n,” he held out his hand for a handshake, but you misunderstood and gave him a high-five instead. It took him by surprise, but he laughed it off.

“Oh I'm so sorry I thought you were asking for-“

Jay interrupted you by suddenly shifting his hand to complete your high-five, “No need to be embarrassed, I’ll take a high-five too.”

You laughed about it together and then began some more small talk for a few remaining minutes discussing the usually boringly common topics like work, and how long you’ve lived here, except you actually enjoyed it more than you expected to. You were glad that you had made the choice to ruin your caffeine-sober streak today. Meeting new people was refreshing.

But since your job practically required you to talk to new people every day, and this was something you did daily- maybe it was just Jay that was refreshing. He was actually very intriguing, and not just because he was admittedly pretty to look at. You couldn’t really put it into the right words, but something about the way he talked and used so many unique minor expressions really caught your attention. He was so polite too. Attentive. Thoughtful. A nice outcast from the stereotypical modern type of men you were used to seeing everywhere these days.

Either way, this random interchange completely altered your day into something ten times better than it had originally been.

Coincidentally, your drinks were ready and called at the same time. Jay carefully passed you your drink while picking up his own, being cautious to not accidentally burn you with the hot cup. You thanked him once more and both headed out toward the door. Jay held it for you this time, arguing that it was only equal for him to do so since you had held the door for him on the way in.

Your smile quickly faded as you noticed the heavy rain that had begun a little while ago pouring down in front of you. You hadn’t noticed it right away because of the cafe marquee that slightly protected the street and kept the outer entrance dry. You sighed, staring in disbelief that you were going to have to spend the rest of work today in soaked clothes.

“Something wrong?” Jay questioned upon seeing your face flush with worry.

He made you jump a little because you had sort of expected him to be gone by now. You thought he had left immediately when you had exchanged some final thank yous and goodbyes at the door on the way out. When actually, he had stuck around for a minute to see you off.

“Oh no, it’s just that I have to walk in this horrible weather,” you replied defeatedly.

Jay thought for a moment, “wait here.”

You widen your eyes in confusion and surprise as you watch Jay run straight into the rain, completely soaking himself and his coffee within seconds only to disappear around the corner for a few minutes.

You kept checking your phone for the time, wondering if he was even going to come back or if you should just leave. You didn’t even know what he was doing or why he had asked you to wait here.

Meanwhile, Jay was rushing around the local mini-store for umbrellas. Finally, when he found them he picked up the closest two. One for you, and one for him. But then, he looked at the pair of them and put one back with a cheesy smile that showed that he had some sort of motive behind the peculiar decision.

Eventually, Jay returned, walking toward you in the rain, holding a single closed umbrella with floppy drenched hair, clothes tightly stuck to him, and a bright smile. It made your cheeks feel warm as you smiled shyly back.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “you’re ridiculous and insane. You went into the rain to fetch an umbrella?”

“It would appear I did,” he laughed lightly too, handing you the umbrella.

“Why did you only get one? You should take this,” you tried to hand it back to him but he refused and pushed it away with a frown and disapproving shake of his head.

You tried again, “Please, you’ve already done a lot for me this morning. It’s not that bad, I can dry off at work.”

“Let’s share it then,” he suggested, taking the umbrella and holding it up for the both of you, “you said earlier that your workplace was the same way as mine anyway.”

“Oh, well alright then,” you felt yourself blush involuntarily as you began walking very closely, side by side together.

At first, it was awkward and a little uncomfortable, but that feeling didn’t stick around for long. Jay made conversation here and there, making it easy to follow along and it made you feel more confident about being almost attached by the hip to someone you met under an hour ago. Sometimes it would fall silent, but it was a comfortable silence. You would both drift off into your own thoughts for a minute or two.

You had no idea what Jay was thinking about, but you wondered if maybe he was thinking similar things to you. Maybe the situation just wasn’t awkward at all to him, and you were just overthinking it. You couldn't help but be curious about what he thought of you. Hopefully, you made a good impression, and hopefully, he was as comfortable as you were right now.

It was just now that you were noticing how good he smelled for the first time. He smelt as clean and fresh as he looked. His cologne was potent through his wet shirt.

He smelled expensive.

You also noted how tall he was beside you. After some sneaky glances here and there, you saw how sharp his jawline really was. It was as unreal as it had looked from a distance.

When you went to glance over at him again, he caught you. Instantaneously, your eyes snapped forward to avoid it, but he was already softly chuckling upon catching you staring.

“If you have questions, you can ask them, you know,” he laughed.

You laughed in embarrassment, nodding.

Jay began to elaborate, “It's just because you were looking-“

“I thought I saw a bug,” you lied with rosy cheeks.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“No really, I’m telling the truth!”

“Okay, I’ll believe you,” he smiled, seeing right through your attempt to cover up your obvious stares.

The tension between you was so thick, you could almost suffocate. But maybe it was just you getting in your own head. This didn’t have to be a slightly intimate interaction, he could just be being friendly.

As if you were an open book and Jay was reading your mind, he looked over to you.

“You keep drifting out from under the umbrella. Isn’t your shoulder getting wet?”

“A little but it's fine,” you shrugged.

“Come closer, I won't hurt you” he went to put his arm around you to pull you in but he hesitated, “may I?”

You could swear that your face was painted red with blush now, but you nodded anyway and let it happen. He was ever so gentle, making sure he wasn’t pushing it too far. Keeping his arm around you but loosely just in case you might change your mind.

You continued to walk like that together with uncontrollable smiles plastered on each of your faces until you reached the outside of your work building. It was such a peaceful moment that you would surely hold onto it for a very long time after the fact. It had been a while since you felt this rush of emotion that you were so sure had left you years ago.

The rain had cleared up now, spitting slightly still, but nothing compared to what it had been. Jay walked you up to where it was sheltered so that you wouldn’t have to get a single drop of rain on you. You felt bad that he was still very much soaked, while you looked as if you hadn’t been outside at all today.

“Thank you, again, Jay,” you stood in front of him.

“No, thank you, y/n.”

You fiddled with your hands a little, looking down, “perhaps, could I take your number so that I can pay you back later?”

Jay chuckled, “You can have my number, but you’re not paying me back.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, handing him your phone anyway to type in his number.

You then both briefly waved goodbye and you began walking into your building, hiding a giddy smile.

“Y/N!”

You turned quickly to the sound of Jay yelling your name and ran back towards him.

He held out the umbrella to you, “Take this. It’s yours now.”

Without argument, you took the umbrella and waved goodbye once more. You didn’t turn back this time, but you could feel Jay’s eyes on you- watching to make sure you got in with no problems before walking away himself.

Later on, you found yourself staring at the brightly coloured umbrella leaning against your work desk.

You drifted into the thought of the umbrella and a certain guy, with a smile lingering on your lips.

note: as always, any feedback/notes are appreciated~!thank you so much for reading!! i hope you have an amazing day/night ^^ finally, i got another singular member one shot out. i kinda liked this one. let me know what you guys thought of it. also, don’t forget to tune into orange blood nov 17th! WHOS EXCITED (I AM).

[swallowerofdharma]

Imagine this one in video format maybe? To start looking into chapter 4 of Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai we take the physical tankōbon: it is at the very start of volume 2, I’d like to show you the cover and and open it, turning the first color pages of it, Doumeki in his blue police uniform. Now let’s look back at both the first and the second volume for a moment. A thing I dislike about many cover illustrations of romance themed books is that they frequently showcase the main pairing and sometimes one of them, if not both, will look at you like it is a photo-shot from a fashion magazine. Don’t look at me please, I am here to intrude unseen in your most intimate moments and you aren’t supposed to know. Characters looking back at you makes your position as a voyeur more obvious. It makes me self conscious, I don’t want to be in the story, I want to immerse myself and disappear while others take the stage and action!

Yashiro looking back at us in the cover of volume 1 is calling us out, but also offering himself willingly, in the first part of the story he is both a voyeur himself (with Kuga and Kageyama) and an exhibitionist (calling out Nanahara for example and later having Doumeki openly looking down at him). He often flaunts his sensuality and he lets others look at his sexual encounters that aren’t in any way related to sharing intimacy, only performance and pleasure. The cover of the first tankōbon is an incredibly eloquent portrait of Yashiro, a powerful introduction to the story. His vulnerability coexists with the empowerment of the submissive role when the rules are laid out clearly in a BDSM scene. Now take the second volume, the cover illustration is strikingly different, and it remains quite unique at the moment: the majority of these covers are centered on the characters and sometimes the background disappear completely. In this case it is likely that you wouldn’t even notice the characters at first. It’s the city at night, the urban lights, the street wet with rain that is predominantly portrayed: the atmosphere, other people under their umbrellas, only looking carefully you see Yashiro waiting at the red light and then Doumeki following behind: they rain is falling on them, they don’t have an umbrella. This is likely the same scene depicted in chapter 7 and on the cover of the sixth tankōbon as well. Imagine me showing you the movie version, if this was a video. Try to smell the rain on the concrete, it’s so real. Look at the lights reflected in the various puddles. The focus is on the environment, we are zooming back to the city, away from the characters, not a fashion magazine photo-shot, but urban photography.

Volume 1 was done, the characters introduced, the setting established, the readership established as well. It contained the first three chapters, but also two other one-shots that provided further details and insight into Yashiro and Kageyama’s relationship and backstory. Doumeki and Aoi, Misumi and Hirata have been also introduced, the set up for the first part of the story is complete, we are invested. Chapter 3 ended with maybe the first moment that is not only sexually charged, but very emotionally charged as well, the first moment where sex happens when there is intimacy. Even when Yashiro asks for Doumeki to pull his hair harder, it’s probably the gesture of Doumeki reaching out to touch Yashiro tenderly that makes it different, makes it the moment Doumeki starts to wonder what if.

I have maintained a special interest and attachment to chapter 4 for a long time now. Although I was invested in the story, characters and style, chapter 4 really solidified for me the complexity of levels that Saezuru has, made me reassess my first impressions, made me wonder if I was trying to read too much into something that just wasn’t that deep, but no. That feeling of knowing “there is something there” wouldn’t go away. I wasn’t sure though so I just asked Georgie @itwearsadress back in February 2023 and I am very grateful for their very thoughtful answers. I will use their explanations on the terms and specific language Yashiro and Doumeki are using in their “scene”. And I am also grateful for Benvey’s observations about the same scene @nanayashi-agenda further confirming that I wasn’t imagining things, that it was possible to read something more into it.

I am going to quote parts of the exchange I had with Georgie, while also adding to it my updated analysis, now that I am a little more confident in my own understanding of things. So initially, I formulated my questions as follows. Yashiro dressed Doumeki up as a policeman and tried to role play as the criminal/aggressor, aiming to be “arrested and punished” - while Doumeki instead wasn’t able to fully comprehend the assignment and act properly, refusing to acknowledge that Yashiro was doing something wrong in terms of infringing real laws. Doumeki simply was direct and literal all the time, while Yashiro was looking for an excuse to create a scene. He was probably randomly referring to potential charges that progressed to the topic of sexual misconduct, because Yashiro was leading the play towards a sexual play. Besides the humor resulting from Doumeki’s straight face and answers - while he doesn’t fully comprehend the assignment - that entire exchange ended with Yashiro being upset and truly angered and I was very dissatisfied with my comprehension of the dialogue. And here came George to my rescue. The number three works really well in storytelling, I have always considered the fact that Yashiro tries three times here as a deliberate choice. So he tries three different charges and for each one Doumeki replies. There is no crime. Yashiro can’t be recognized as the aggressor in Doumeki’s eyes, so as a policeman he doesn’t have to act. There is nothing there.

First. I am referring to the very first page of chapter 4, the one in color. Here’s George’s take:

Now to the particular point you mentioned - Yashiro wants to do some police/criminal role play so he starts riffing some random sexual crimes. The first charge that you referred to is 公務執行妨害罪 or “interfering in the duties of an officer of the law” or something like that. Aside from it being a sexy pretext to do a police role play, it might be a reference to Y being an obstruction to D returning to the straight and narrow after getting out of prison. 🤔 I mostly tend to think it’s just Y being cheeky.

Then after the chapter’s illustration cover, we have skipped a little forward, we didn’t hear if Doumeki answered to that one, which would have probably applied: when we go back to the moment Yashiro is giving him a blowjob, while we follow Doumeki’s thoughts and see some flashbacks of his time in prison. It ties together nicely, when we discover that Yashiro isn’t the first man to do that.

Doumeki recalls how he discovered that he had become impotent, not able to respond to direct stimulation. If in the present he has the police uniform on, in the flashbacks he instead has the prison uniform, the two attires contrasting very loudly, until following his thoughts we go back to the probable cause of Doumeki losing any desire and becoming unresponsive to sexual stimulation: he is shown in his police uniform, his real one, that he was wearing the day he caught his father forcing himself on Aoi. In his self analysis, Doumeki attributes his acceptance to his new reality to two things:

Please, pay special attention to the fading-to-black on those last words: “… and the confirmation that I am not like my father”. That black isn’t only a choice to transition from the past to the present, the black background when scenes are meant to be flashbacks, it is also a choice that puts those words apart and enlightens them more, while also giving them an ominous feeling.

In the present, Yashiro is oblivious to Doumeki’s stream of consciousness, who is looking down at him while also comparing him to his sister Aoi, becoming soon distracted and redirecting his thoughts and focusing on touching Yashiro’s hair. For Yashiro the role play is ongoing, thinking that they are both sharing the fantasy, until Doumeki takes them out of it with his responses to Yashiro’s second and third attempts at provocation. Here’s Georgie:

The second is 淫行罪 or “sexual coercion”. Doumeki then responds that the victim must be underage for the charge to be appropriate. Yashiro comes up with a third charge - 強制わいせつ罪 or “indecent assault” (also known as “carnal indecency”, this law is basically the same as sexual assault - an unwanted sexual advance of some kind) to which Doumeki responds that the victim must protest the sexual act in order for the charge to be valid.

Back when I asked Georgie to clarify the terminology of this scene, I was not sure what I was seeing in here. Was that little dialogue a subtle social commentary about the limitations of the legislation and the insufficient ways the law speaks to the survivors? Was I just reading too much into it? Was Yoneda really going there? Did I want to go that far myself? But I could see that there was something in this exchange that makes Yashiro pause. That reaction Yoneda captured: it truly spoke so much to me and it is so real, I just knew this had to be meaningful. He stands up, kicking the chair, letting his emotions clearly visible, and upset and angry expression, the fleeting promise to not touch Doumeki’s limp dick ever again. It is very rare that Yashiro shows that he is troubled and angry specifically about the recognition of what constitutes rape.

When I recently decided to revisit these few pages from chapter 4 and put together a post to encourage readers to revisit the story once again, I also tried to do a little research into Japanese law. This is just a very superficial review though and I am only very lightly touching on the subject. After the conversation I had with Georgie, in July 2023 Japan's sex crime laws were significantly changed.

Japan's sex crime laws will be significantly transformed from mid-July, as parliament passed a law Friday raising the age of sexual consent and expanding the definition of nonconsensual sex as part of Penal Code reform. (…) As a part of Penal Code reform, the new law raises the age of consent to 16. The legislation also criminalizes nonconsensual sexual intercourse where physical coercion or violence is absent, taking into consideration various factors affecting the victim's ability to consent, such as a power imbalance, that were previously deemed as being difficult to prove. Use of violence, intimidation, alcohol, drugs, or economic or social status are among the factors that will be considered when determining whether an act is consensual. Cases in which a victim has a mental or physical disorder can also be deemed nonconsensual.

Karin Kaneko, What you need to know about the revision to Japan's sex crime law, “the japan times”, June 19, 2023 https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2023/06/19/national/crime-legal/sex-crime-law-revision-explainer/

In the same article something specifically caught my attention as relevant to what Yoneda might have been showing in chapter 4.

In 2017, the law related to sex crimes was revised for the first time since 1907, imposing longer sentences on rapists and recognizing male victims, in addition to categorizing forced oral and anal sex as crimes as well. However, the amendments only recognized nonconsensual sex as a crime if there was an act of violence or intimidation. The absence of violence on the part of the perpetrator was seen as indicating that the victim didn’t resist, therefore making the sex consensual. The age of sexual consent also remained at 13 years old, which many deemed inappropriate.

I’d like you to remember: chapter 4 was published in 2013, well before 2017, the year considered the starting point of the reform and the culmination of the #me too movement in Japan. In 2013 then the law was still the one first written in 1907: forced oral or anal sex weren’t considered or any penetration done with something else that a male penis would not have constituted a case, because the law was written to protect property, not people and only female victims could get pregnant and thus hereditary issues were considered (this not only in Japan). And even after the first reforms in 2017 a male victim who not only didn’t fight back enough to show very visible signs of violence, but had also shown arousal would have not been seen and recognized as a victim of rape. The whole thing is too complicated for me to go into it. But what can be taken from it is that Yoneda was writing about Yashiro in that scenario. That like the cover of volume 2 suggests her characters’ story is set in a bigger and broader context. Remember now how teenager Yashiro used to seek partners that would leave visible signs of violence on his body and, although he would cover himself in school, it was enough for someone to notice. That the fact that violence or pain didn’t impede but instead triggered pleasure had to mean for Yashiro that he had always wanted it and willingly participated in it.

Even when Doumeki would recognize what his father was doing was wrong and was sexual violence - because Aoi was unmoving, she cried when she saw him, but she wasn’t showing any response to what their father was doing to her body - the law as it was when this manga started wouldn’t have been for sure on Aoi’s side. But more so with adult Yashiro, Doumeki didn’t think about it until Nanahara made him realize it during their conversation on the rooftop of the hospital. From the point of view of the law, a man couldn’t be raped.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Good morning! Whats your favorite show/movie? Who are your favorite characters? Why do you like them so much? Also!! Did you have a good sleep?

Okay so I was a film major for a while, and I have opinions. 

Penny Dreadful 

I love this show. Like, so much. I adore it. I can not get enough of that show. Just all of the imagery, and the fantastic writing and acting. The episode intro alone is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Eva Green is a goddess and I love everything she’s been in. The take on classic horror stories is So Good, and it actually became the inspiration for my Gay Frankenstein story! (Started as a stitch AU, and then went completely OC after I had Ideas) but the show itself is so intimate? I think it’s largely that the period they’re in, everything was so repressed and restricted. So when the characters break out of those moments, it’s more meaningful. And the love-hate relationship between Ms. Ives and Malcolm in season one? Exquisite.  I could literally write essay’s about this show, but I’ll restrain myself and just say: it’s the best ensemble show I’ve ever seen. The characters come together, but they also each have their own distinct lives that sometimes intersect, but in s2 especially, are quite separate. They are constant with one another like ensemble shows usually portray. Also gothic horror and romance? My absolute favorite. 

Anything by Guillermo del Toro

This man Owns My Entire Soul. I’m not even joking, everything he writes and directs is perfection. Crimson Peak is probably my favorite (I have a stitch AU for this too ;) ) because again, Gothic horror and romance. I’m a slut for that shit. Also Tom Hiddleston and Jessica Chastain? Delightful casting. I think it’s obvious by now that I love tragic relationships, so their dynamic is *chef’s kiss* amazing. they’re so damaged. And this quote right here is one of the BEST things I’ve ever read: 

“But the horror... The horror was for love. The things we do for love like this are ugly, mad, full of sweat and regret. This love burns you and maims you and twists you inside out. It is a monstrous love and it makes monsters of us all.”

Engrave that on my headstone, please?? I’ve got a sort-of Dorian Gray AU (it’s delightful) that’s basically built on this entire premise. Mitch makes the mistake of falling in love with Stiles, and does many terrible things because of it. Mostly to himself, at least. 

I think my love of Crimson Peak is very closely tied with The Shape of Water. another beautiful movie, I could wax poetic about this forever. it was beautifully written, and such an artistic movie. I love the way it was filmed, and the set design, and all of the subtle imagery. Such as Elisa’s apartment being cast in cooler tones, it always felt very damp and had evidence of water damage, compared to Giles’, a mirror image of her own, in more warm tones. This is another one I could (and have) write essays about. There is so much packed into this movie, from the themes on toxic masculinity and entitlement, to the conversation on queerness and race and disability, and how all the various relationships are portrayed. Like. there is so much to pick apart in this movie. 

Aside from that, ofc Hell Boy deserves an honorable mention because i grew up on those movies. I’m pretty sure the Golden Army especially is responsible for who I am today, given all the lore on the fae in that universe. Wow, that explains so much about me... Also one of my first WoW characters was an elf named Nuala xD I still have her, too, and it’s been like 12 years lol

Near-Future Sci-Fi

Sci-fi is one of my favorite genres, I am a huge nerd for theoretical and astrophysics. But my favorite kind of sci-fi is the stuff that still takes place on Earth, rather than epic battles in space. Ex Machina and Annihilation are at the top of that list. Alex Garland is another writer/director that I love. He has the same kind of approach as del Toro, where he puts a lot of fine details into his work. And I love that it’s very cerebral; there are so many layers to Ex Machina. My English 101 prof actually refused to analyze it in class when I suggested it to him, because he didn’t think my class could. Basically handle? Dissecting that movie? Because a lot of it comes across as very surface level, but in some cases when you look deeper, it’s actually suggesting the opposite of what you might think at first glance. (And he was right, my fellow students were awful. I miss that class though, it was one of my favorites T_T Mr. Ryder was an awesome dude and super chill.) 

Morgan is another good example. As you can see, I fucking love androids lol. Which brings me to another of my all time favorite movies: Cloud Atlas. I could literally watch this movie endlessly, I love it so much. The acting, the writing, the filming, all of it is top notch. And one thing they did in the movie that didn’t come across in the book, was reusing the same actors through the different eras in the book. That was just so neat, because it really encapsulates how connected these souls are, as we follow the threads of their story throughout time. If you haven’t seen the movie, I can’t recommend it enough.  

Another one I always think of alongside Cloud Atlas, even though they aren’t related at all, is Predestination. It’s a great movie that explores the idea of fate and free will in a really clever way, utilizes time travel in a very organized way that I think was neat (think Umbrella Academy. They even use briefcases! As you can see, I love sci-fi bureaucracy, it’s fun. In fact The Bureau is another movie I enjoyed) and the main character is actually, explicitly trans, which was cool. You basically get to see the entire story of their life, and I don’t want to spoil anything, but it’s just. So good. Mindfuckery galore. 

Shoot, and I almost forgot! Arrival! That is one of the best movies, and another one I could watch nonstop. It focuses on mathematics and linguistics and I swear to god, I almost altered my entire college course because of this movie. Amy Addams is brilliant, Jeremy Renner is so soft and nerdy, and again, it has an amazing take on time travel. I am very particular about how time is handled in Sci-fi, and this portrayal was one of my favorite. (Most of my physics studies have been dedicated to the theory of time, so like. Strong Opinions.) 

Fantasy

Stardust! It wasn’t until Good Omens can out that I realized Neil Gaiman is responsible for most of the stories I loved as a kid lol, and I had no idea he wrote stardust! But that is such a beautiful movie (I have a Stardust AU lol) and it’s definitely one of my comfort movies. Captain Shakespeare is one of the best characters ever, bless Robert de Niro. I would die for him. Fun fact, i had no idea Ipswitch was a real place until like. 2019. I 100% thought it was made up for the movie 😂

Alongside Stardust, I’ve always loved The Golden Compass. It’s fantasy, but also with that old-timey steampunk science feel, which is so fun and surprisingly difficult to find! 

Mortal Engines also has the same kind of feel, and it was such an epic movie in every sense of the word. I’m a little sad that after all the work that went into it, it didn’t get a dedicated following or fan base, because I feel there’s so much potential in it. But at the same time, fandom tends to gather around media that has plenty of flaws for us to repair with gold, and there wasn’t much room for that in Mortal Engines. 

I’m going to put Jupiter Ascending here even though it technically fits with the sci-fi, because that section is long as fuck and also this movie has such a fantastic feel. Mila Kunis? beautiful. The CGI? beautiful. Eddy Redmayne? One of the best villain portrayals i’ve ever seen. The whole oedipal vibe he had was immaculate, as was their portrayal of reincarnation, and just. The world building. GOD. I get so weak for through world building. Also the fkn intergalactic bureaucracy when they’re basically at the space DMV? One of my all time favorite scenes in movie history. 

Horror

I have very little room in my life for horror. As I said, I have strong movie opinions, especially when it comes to horror movies. I don’t like how most of them rely on cheap jump scares and overused gore and gratuitous rape scenes, instead of, y'know, actual good writing. 

Which is EXACTLY why I adore It: Chapter 1 & 2. It has none of those things, but still manages to be so terrifying. They are my favorite horror movies, and I’m saying this as someone who has genuine childhood trauma bc of the novel. Like. I couldn’t shower/take baths alone until I was almost 10 T_T When I was 6-7 and saw kids play by storm drains, I would run over screaming about how Pennywise was going to get them. Like, I had issues man. I was terrified to see the first one, and wouldn’t go until I could go with my best friend after she had already seen it, so she could warn me when something scary was about to happen 😂

And, one of my favorite aspects of the movie, and the thing that gave me Mad Respect for Any Muschietti? The way he filmed Bev and her father. They have a character who is literally being molested, but they never once have to show it. And yet their interactions are still so viscerally upsetting to watch. Sexploitation puts me off of most horror, and the fact that Muschietti doesn’t use it here, even when it would be actually somewhat justified? *chef’s kiss*. I love him. 

I love horror as a concept, I’m just really picky about it because I expect the writing to be good. I don’t like short cuts. But in a lot of cases, even if I don’t enjoy the movie itself, I love to watch analysis videos on youtube! I love to see the philosophy and symbolism in different horror movies, even if i don’t like to watch the movies themselves. It’s a fun hobby. 

Misc. 

Then in general, some other stuff I love in no particular order:

The Internship (Bless Dylan, Stuart is such a bitch and I love him) 

American Assassin (ofc. The writing itself is eh, but Mitch is my man) 

Dylan’s episode of Weird City. (I actually have a lot of feelings about this one. Jordan Peele is another amazing writer/director, I really need to catch up on his works.) 

Dorian Gray (*chef’s kiss*)

Rogue One (Makes me cry every time) 

WARCRAFT (Obviously this is a fav. It made me so happy, words cannot express.) 

Coraline and most other stop motion animation. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for that. 

Literally anything associated with Tim Burton. Fun fact, when I was 12 and in middle school, I planned to decorate my future house inspired by tim burton. Like, i had Plans. 

Most adaptations of Alice in Wonderland!

So! this got long as fuck! But you said you like that kind of thing lol 😂 I had kinda Eh sleep since I was up so late lmao, and I kept waking up (as usual, rip). And I’m so mad I go up for nothing! The dude I was supposed to show my listing to never showed, and is refusing to answer my calls >_> It’s been 2 hours now, and I still haven’t heard from him. But whatever, I already have a full price cash offer on the house so who cares. And that means I can play WoW all day, now! 

[characterclasses]

Classing the Umbrella Academy

Keep in mind that I’m going based only on the show here, as some of the characters in the comics have wildly different personalities and motivations. That being said, let’s get started!

1. Luther Hargreeves 

Luther is one of those characters who seem like a simple class build on the surface, but end up surprising you. Looking at this hulking, emotionally repressed man, one might immediately think that barbarian would be a good fit, but in my opinion you have to go deeper. Barbarians are defined by their rage after all, and Luther only really loses control once he gets high. Otherwise he’s generally very aware, even seemingly frightened, of his raw power (and the form that goes with it). The next obvious choice then, is fighter, as Luther is obviously well-versed in combat. While Luther does have the raw physicality of the Champion subclass, this isn’t quite right either. Unlike Diego, Luther relies solely on his physical strength and the mastery he has over it to get through fights, preferring not to use weapons other than his fists. 

It is for that reason that I finally settled on Luther as a monk, specifically the Way of the Open Hand subclass. These monks are the masters of unarmed combat, and literally pack quite a punch in a way that no other class does. Luther fits other aspects of the monk, too. Way of the open hand monks have abilities relating to meditation and tranquility. Luther spent years in isolation on the moon - just look at the shot of him from the very first scene in episode one, sitting on the moon watching the planet, and tell me that wasn’t the epitome of a meditative state. 

2. Diego Hargreeves 

In contrast to Luther, Diego is pretty easy to class. Everything about him, from the knives to the wardrobe, seem to scream rogue. And Diego is a rogue, no doubt about that. He’s most comfortable with his knives in hand, operating under the cover of darkness. His subclass is an easy one, too. Unlike rogues such as Patch, who is an Inquisitive archetype, Diego was trained to use his abilities in order to take out targets as efficiently as possible. Diego was trained as an Assassin, and despite his hero/antihero framing, has been using those deadly skills ever since. 

3. Allison Hargreeves 

Based on Allison’s powerset, it seems a little reductive to class her as a bard, but here we are. Allison’s not just a bard because of her rumors though. More than any other character, Allison inspires her siblings, from drawing Vanya out of her shell, to rallying the others to work together and take action to stop the apocalypse. More than even Luther, Allison knows what it is to be a team player. 

Which isn’t to say that she doesn’t love the spotlight! As a bard from the College of Glamour, Allison is all about giving enthralling, enchanting performances both on screen and in the field. Her rumors let her take center stage and ensure that everyone is paying attention. 

4. Klaus Hargreeves 

Okay, it’s obvious that Klaus is some sort of necromancer, let’s get that out of the way. I don’t think that he’s a wizard though; wizards study and work for every scrap of knowledge they have, but Klaus actively tries to drown out his ability with any sort of drug he can find. Klaus is a character intimately acquainted with life, death, and higher powers, and makes for a wonderfully reluctant cleric. Hell, the guy’s even spoken directly to God (though she didn’t really like him). As a Grave cleric, Klaus has a special relationship with the boundaries of life and death, including seemingly having the ability to manipulate souls. 

5. Five Hargreeves 

Five is...a complicated class build, which makes sense as he probably has the most complex character arc in the show. Five is a relatively new class build, one that debuted in Matt Mercer’s Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount. To put it simply, Five is a wizard, specifically a chronurgist. This is a type of mage that specializes in the probability of time magic, focusing in small moments in time and letting the consequences of the changes ripple out into the wider world. Sound familiar? Five certainly has the intellect for a wizard, and the single-minded focus needed to learn new spells (or in his case, figure out the equations needed to stop the apocalypse). Plus, that guy sure loves to cast Blink. 

But Five isn’t just a wizard, not after living the life that he did. Five spent decades surviving alone in the apocalypse, giving him the skills needed to multiclass into ranger. These skills are honed and eventually put into use as a Horizon Walker, a subclass of ranger that guards the world from threats coming from outside the plane - or outside of time. 

6. Ben Hargreeves 

For poor, doomed Ben I will be kind of reductive, just because at this point we really know so little about him. Ben is a warlock, in control of forces beyond understanding - or are they in control of him? In any case, the Horror that used Ben’s chest as a portal into our plane of existence definitely seems to resemble a Great Old One. I’ll also say that Ben has/had a Pact of the Tome, as why else would a ghost be casually reading a book? I know this class build is based entirely on stereotypes and first impressions, but now that Ben’s officially a main character as of season 2 I may revisit his class later as he develops. 

7. Vanya Hargreeves 

Vanya is a character with a mysterious, untameable, raw power - in other words, she’s definitely a sorcerer. As a Wild Magic sorcerer, Vanya’s power is explosive and unpredictable, and even she doesn’t yet know its limits or how to control it. Her unconscious surges of power can do anything from shatter glass, to make people enjoy her music, to blowing up the moon and ending life on Earth. Like many sorcerers, Vanya’s power is found to be threatening by those around her, and attempts by outside parties to suppress or control it tend to go very badly. 

[virryth]

Doctor!AU Jihoon

a hbd to Jihoon;; love him so much can’t wait to see him in Jan

tw// mentions of wound, blood, mild violence

Read Doctor!AU Junhui | More Jihoon au | More SVT au

1.7k | Fluff | Bullet | Not proofread

Vice-head chief doctor for the ER (trauma unit)

Famous for his quick, spot-on judgement for emergency care and his blunt personality

Can be reckless at times and gets scolded so many times for jumping the fence on hospital protocols

Did he maybe hit the patient with his fist in an ambulance to get their heart moving because they wouldn’t make it to the ER? Sure.

Performed emergency surgeries at the scene of the incident? A few times.

but hey his methods worked and he saved countless of patients in the end so really who’s losing

Rumored to have a criminal record

Not many people know but Jihoon has a pretty strong sense of justice, he once punched the daylight out of a guy when he found out the dude sexually assaulted his patient

Actually spent a day in jail and had to get bailed out by Wonwoo, but the other guy ended up in jail too so it’s worth it in his book

Honestly looks so good in the scrub, fills it all up, hair slicked back, clear translucent skin with the face of an angel 

Possesses such a cute smile and the most pleasant laughter, one of the reasons the nurses and his fellow colleagues adore him (also very popular with the elderly)

Except when there’s an unusually busy night, catch Dr. Lee looking like hell, hair is either disheveled and messy from running his hands through them when he’s frustrated or just plainly under a rubber headband and kept out of his face

Scrubs either has specks of blood or some sort of dirt from wrestling restraining rowdy troublemaker visitors in the ER

Usually spotted resuscitating a patient while kneeling on top of a moving crash cart, or running around giving consultations for other trauma on-call attendants

Do not even breath the wrong way around him when he’s busy trying to figure out the cause of a patient’s symptoms

Dr. Lee will sit there and think until he’s found a solution

Will sometimes venture to other wards to consult with the other doctors if he has time. Jihoon can be stubborn, but he knows how valuable the experiences of his colleagues can be, especially when it’s as important as accurately diagnosing and treating patients

Both new and long-time interns are terrified of Dr. Lee from trauma unit, they all avoid him like the plague because those who worked with him have only claimed it to be one of the most stressful nights of their medical career

Some came out so shocked they ended up transferring

But;;; it’s not all bad, he’s hard on the interns because residency is the only time period where mistakes are allowed, he has to make sure they know that lives are at stake if they’re going to become good doctors in the future

The very small few who survived his supervisions all ended up learning a LOT from him because scary or not, everybody and their grannies have the utmost respect for Jihoon

The ER is the most hectic and traumatizing place in the hospital, on top of the physical strains there’s also a lot of emotional stressors that get him down once in a while

And those moments are when his true personality shine through, boy is sweet and so soft, but only to you and his close friends though, anyone else see that and he’s all hardass hauling the interns again

“He was worse in med school,” pediatric surgeon Junhui spilled at a team dinner, “one semester during exam season, he wouldn’t come back for three days and we find him passed out in the library with textbooks under his head.”

“We thought he had fainted or something, turned out he was just hungry,” medic Soonyoung chimed in, nudging Wonwoo to continue spilling the tea.

“He woke up so angry because he missed hours of study, we had to deal with that attitude for a week. He was such a d*ck.”

“Yeah, that’s my reason. What’s yours?” Jihoon countered, taking a shot.

(am i saying ‘96 line went to med school and spent their residency together yes I am)

You know the boys from way back when you were interns during your residency

In fact, on his first day of work, Jihoon was admitted to the hospital due to an explosion injury

He wasn’t even directly involved, he was just a bystander rushing in to help when he spotted multiple MVCs (motor vehicle collisions) on the highway on the way to work, and while working on the injured patients, one of the cars had exploded nearby

Still has a decent-size burnt scar on his back to this day, but doesn’t regret it one bit

Jihoon does anything and everything in his power to save people, even if he has to put his life on the line

Patient bleeding out during transit and there’s not enough blood in the ambulance? Here, take his if it matches.

Need a hand shouldering debriefs from a collapsing structure to rescue a patient? On it.

Vernon from ortho came by once, “hey dude your wrist is bleeding.”

Jihoon: cut myself pulling an earring out of someone’s throat, what’s up?”

Vernon: yikes,,, anyway still up for lunch? :D

That’s kind of his main philosophy, and yours, because you didn’t hesitate one bit when you head straight into the fire to save him

It’s because of this mild case of recklessness that you both often get sent to dispatch on evac copters to save people at extremely remote locations 

And you’re amazing at it, but more often than not you both usually end up in Junhui’s pediatric ward getting bandaged up while looking at babies

Really popular with the kids by the way, everyone loves getting a piggy-back ride from Dr. Lee when he comes by

Knows all of the the long-term patients by names and is so loved by the kids it’s honestly not fair

Medic Soonyoung knows Jihoon the longest and apparently he was even more reckless way back then as an EMT, but he’s mellowed down a lot since he became a doctor

As head chief, you cut him waaaay too many slacks and all the residents know it

But they also know he’s the best in the field so they just let him do whatever 

But that doesn’t mean he gets away all the time, you still scold him when needed, and Jihoon has actually toned it down a lot since you became head chief because he knows ultimately you’re the one shouldering the responsibilities for his actions

He knows you would stick up for him no matter what because of how much you value his skills, and he doesn’t want to disappoint you in any way

“You know they’re not doing this just for your skills, right?” 

“Don’t do that shrink thing on me, Wonwoo, it gives me the creeps.”

“He’s right and you know it,” Junhui teased.

“Shut up.”

Jihoon is so shy about his feelings for you, hence he speaks more with his actions 

Often takes you out for dinner, or brunch, or home, after your shift when you’re too tired to drive

Brings you breakfast in the morning after a night shift and tries to shoulder most of the traumatizing cases when he can

Honestly he’s still doing his job, but during breaks, he makes sure to hang around and is always ready to come in three seconds max if you ever call his name 

And sure, although he puts himself in danger way too many times, you know he only wants to help

But that doesn’t stop you from worrying, his mindset of giving his all to save others is what’s gonna get him killed one day

On your day off, you often meet up and hand out, running errands and going to the movies to catch up on whatever pop-culture content you missed during the busy on-call shifts 

And it’s so platonic, or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself because you honestly never know sometimes

One moment he’s resting his arm over your shoulder, softly speaking to you about what to order from the fast food menu. It’s so intimate you could hear your own heartbeats in your ears

Then suddenly he’s getting shy and conscious of how close you are

But then he holds you much a little too close to shield you from the rain as you share an umbrella

And you thought maybe that’s just who he is, he’s protective and skinship may come unexpectedly and unconsciously when he feels comfortable around people

Jihoon would say you were starting to sound like Wonwoo if he knew what you were thinking

It wasn’t until half the movie that you caught him staring

You had thought he had something to say, so you leaned in and waited 

Truly, you didn’t expect to be kissed

And brief as it came, Jihoon had diverted his attention back to the big screen, picking up popcorn and chuckling when he saw the expression on your face

True to his profession, Wonwoo was the first to notice, he had been making jokes about how you two would end up together one day–a common topic among your circle of friends–and Jihoon choked on his coffee

They had kept it on the down low since the both of you had decided to keep it out of work

But things have definitely changed with the glances you noticed whenever he’s in the same room

There was so much affection in his gaze that you start to think maybe he’s been doing this for some time, it just took you this long to notice

You also find out that Jihoon is a lot more daring than you’d pegged him to be, and oh so subtle with his touches

Hand hovering on the lower part of your back to catch you in case you stumble, stolen kisses in the elevator, head touches and comforting hugs in the break room when you had time to take a breath

And yet you never got caught, it’s amazing how quick he turns back to strict Dr. Lee around the intern the moment he parts way with you

Occasionally Jihoon would join you in the empty corner near the supply’s closet, cooling your heads and leaning on each other to regain a sense of comfort and familiarity when things didn’t go well in the ER

He would hold your hand, leaning in to you and softly whispering into your hair about the gains and losses in life, sometimes about the future, where you would travel on your next vacation and what you would do together

The ER is a tricky placement, sometimes you witness the miracle of life, sometimes the end of it. It’s a battlefield almost every single day, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world

Not with Jihoon by your side.

–V

Read Doctor!AU Junhui | More Jihoon au | More SVT au

[iwillgiveyoumyhappiness]

임창균, Im Changkyun

lostmyshame  asked:

Your Changkyun scenarios are so freaking cute! This boy is wrecking my life currently. May I request another one about him where he and the reader have been friends for few years and both were attracted to each other but too scared to ruin their friendship? And then on one rainy day their emotions take over? The literal physical need for each other, the desire to possess and belong, the fear of losing the most precious, all no longer concealable. Thank you ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

Group: Monsta X (몬스타엑스)

Member: I.M.

(A/N): Read with this album by Paper Planet

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“Stop it,” she whispered into the dimly lit room, breaking a heavy silence that had taken over the usually very comfortable space of her living room. Her autumn-breeze breath fanned across hot cheeks, luckily hidden by the shadows cast by the rain drops dribbling down the windowpane. 

The skin that was so frightfully close to her own belonged to her friend—Im Changkyun. He hovered over her, a blurred silhouette before her eyes. He had two choices, as far as she saw it. 

Stay where he was and move no further, or back away before he did something he’d regret. 

They were friends, and that’s where their string of fate ended. 

At least, that’s what they would like it say. They would love it, of course, but simplicity is a luxury. One that their friendship was not blessed with. Their strings of fate were complicated and twisted, a baffling cipher of questions.

There were lines in a healthy friendship; ones that weren’t generally crossed. They thought they’d done a good enough job of that. Those lines were tempting and beguiling. They’d come to the very brink of them, but they’d never crossed them before.

There was the time their fingers brushed while walking, but instead of pulling away, they let it just keep happening. There were gazes that lingered for longer than they should have, hugs that lasted a second too long and moments where they would deny vehemently that they had any interest towards each other yet they would still be jealous if someone else got too close.

Despite how close they’d gotten before, they’d never stepped over that invisible barrier. But here he was... Two and a half steps closer to the personal bubble than was considered ‘friendly’.

He scanned her face, his eyes boring into her own. “What if I don’t want to stop?” he asked, voice equally as quiet. The whole scenario felt somewhat intimate. “What if I want to go farther? Reckless abandon, and all that crap.” 

She couldn’t find it within herself to answer—not yet, at least. Her mouth was dry and the room was spinning and it was hard for her to remember how they had gotten into this position in the first place.

She remembered the day they first met like it was yesterday, yet she couldn’t remember the events of a few hours ago, leading up to this moment. Maybe because it was so sudden, the way he’d pinned her to the couch.

Though, the way they’d first met was pretty sudden, too—quite literally bumping into each other at the super market. She supposed it suited their relationship well. Random, unpredictable, always running forward at a dizzying pace. 

It was never boring, she could say that much. 

Though, the days where thing were ‘boring’ between them happened to be her favorite days. Him working in the studio late at night, her crashing on the couch for no other reason than to keep him company and give her opinion on newer tracks, empty energy-drink cans and bowls of ramen scattered around haphazardly. 

Those were the best.

A day—somewhat like that scene—was the reason for the current situation.

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Maybe it was the way that she had sounded just a little bit off in her texts, or maybe it was the lack of emotion when he called her to ask about her day, but for whatever reason, Changkyun was on his way to her flat, rain splattering furiously onto his clear umbrella. 

He had a plastic bag filled to the brim with her favorite snacks, a couple movies she’d been dying to see and a new mug to replace the one he’d broken two weeks ago.

It was the least he could do.

He folded the umbrella, leaning it against the wall next to her door. With a rhythmic rap of his knuckles, one tailor-made just for the two of them, she came to the door, not even bothering to ask who it was. 

She already knew.

She looked exhausted—bags under her eyes and clothes disheveled more than usual. She gave a small, tired smile. “Hey, Kyun,” she said. “How are you?”  

His first instinct was the drop the bag and rush to her; give her the biggest, tightest hug. But that would be weird, wouldn’t it? There were boundaries to be respected, even in a close friendship.

“Better than you, it seems,” he said with a huff, blowing his too-long bangs away from his face. He scanned her face, concern knitting his eyebrows together. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

She shrugged, still smiling. “Not really,” she said, knowing fully well that she wouldn’t be able to hide it from him. “But it’s fine,” she continued. “I’m alive, and that’s what counts.”

“Did something happen?” he asked. She stepped aside, gesturing for him to come into the medium-sized apartment. “You look like crap.” 

She snorted. “Thanks, dude,” she said. She closed the door behind them. “Nah, nothing in particular,” she answered. “Today’s just a melancholy day. It happens sometimes.” 

Changkyun nodded understandingly, dumping the contents of his plastic bag onto the couch—save for the mug, which he pulled out before hand. He didn’t need to have her nagging him about another one.

“I get it,” he said calmly. He held out the mug, shaped like a cute sloth that said ‘Soon-ish’ on it, as she was a master-procrastinator. He’d always teased her for that. Whether it be a work assignment or something for college, she always waited until the last second to get it done. “Hopefully all of this stuff’ll help.” 

Her eyes lit up a little, a familiar light glittering in them. “You got a new one!” she gasped, snatching it from his hands. “And it’s even cuter than my old one!”

He shrugged and sniffed proudly. “What can I say? I have good taste.”

She rolled her eyes. “Screw you,” she said. 

“Hey! I brought snacks and movies!” he defended himself, crossing his arms. “By the laws of friendship, you can’t say ‘screw you’ to me if I do something nice for you!”

She scoffed. “And what rule is that, your majesty?” she asked incredulously.

“The one I made up just now, stupid,” he chuckled, flicking her forehead lightly.  

She smacked his hand away, laughing a little. “Quit it!” she said. She hugged the sloth mug protectively to her chest. “You’re not breaking another one.” 

Changkyun rolled his eyes. “You know that was an accident!” he groaned. He wasn’t really irritated. In fact, he felt a warm fuzziness creeping into his chest seeing her chuckle at his saltiness. He felt that way towards her whenever he saw her in this light—the one where he was the one making her smile and laugh. 

It felt good and right. Just... 

Lovely. 

That was a word that often sprung to his mind when he thought of her. But the word that would come straight after was always ‘friend’, so that would always snap him out of his thoughts and remind him to watch himself. 

Remind himself not to lose control. 

He shook his head a little, trying to clear his thoughts. “Do you wanna watch a movie and drink hot chocolate with me, or not?” he asked. 

She tilted her head like she was taking it into serious consideration. “Did you bring—?” she started.

“Cinnamon to go on top?” Changkyun interrupted. “Yes. Yes, I did, you weirdo.” 

She stomped her foot playfully. “It’s not weird, it’s tasty!” she defended herself. “You’d understand if you bothered to try it.” 

He snatched the mug from her, taking it into the kitchen. Sure, the feeling of their fingers briefly touching made his heart jump, but he could ignore it. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said. “Just go set up the movie; I’ll make the cocoa.” 

That was how it should be. 

Because they were friends. 

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She hoped that there wasn’t too much relief in her eyes when he showed up at her door. That’d be too obvious.

Honestly though, he was just what she needed on a sad-for-no-reason day, because he was her makes-me-happy-for-no-reason person. 

Everything from his dumb tracksuit with the bracelet on top of the sleeves, the messy hair that was flopping into his eyes and the resting bitch-face. 

Already, her heart felt a little, but she was just praying that he didn’t read into that too deeply. 

It didn’t help that he brought snacks and gifts. How dare he be this way? Knowing her so well, and whatnot. It was infuriating how easy he made it to love him. 

Her eyes kept wandering to his mess of hair, feeling the overwhelming need to run her fingers through it, but alas, she didn’t, 'cause that’d be weird.

When she greeted him with a quick hug, she couldn’t stop herself from caressing the hairs at the back of his neck, hoping that it wasn’t too noticeable. 

She barely took in everything he was saying, and she was beyond grateful when he changed the subject, making it easier for her to calm down and get sucked into the film. If she payed attention hard enough, maybe Chagkyun’s presence wouldn’t affect her so badly. 

Maybe she could feel the comfort, minus the stifling nervousness.  

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‘Stop staring at her,’ Changkyun kept telling himself. 

They were watching a horror movie together—one she’d been begging to see since it came out—and her eyes were fixed intently on the screen. The jumps scares didn’t freak her out, she just nodded along like, “Oh, I see. So that’s how it fits into the plot”, all the while, shoveling popcorn into her mouth.

All-in-all, not the most attractive scene, but still. His heart said, ‘Well gosh, that’s endearing’, and it was kind of pissing him off.

She gasped for the first time since the movie started, but it wasn’t because she was scared. It was because an ‘illuminating’ plot-point had just been revealed that the main character’s sister was actually his wife that’d been dead for twenty years, and she’d just been turned into a vampire and aging backwards, and—...it was a really dumb movie.

But the point was, she was enjoying it on a bad day, so that was all that mattered. He’d come to terms in his mind that he probably had a crush on her, but his pride (and fear) stopped him from making a definitive move.

He remembered watching a movie some time ago, before he’d met her. One of the quotes from it was: “A man can’t be just friends with a beautiful woman”. He remembered scoffing at that line, just because he thought it was ridiculous.

At first, he wondered why it was limited to ‘a beautiful woman’, but after meeting her and gradually liking her more and more, it dawned on him. 

‘A beautiful woman’ doesn’t apply to what society thinks at all. It applies to you and your own thoughts, because the person you love automatically looks beautiful. 

He’d found that out the hard way when they’d gotten off a rollercoaster together and she looked slightly dazed, majorly blissed-out, and her hair was tousled and tangled.

He’d spent about 30 minutes finger-brushing the tangles out, and to anyone that asked, he’d tell them that it was the most irritating, meticulous thing he’s ever had to do, but what was on the inside?

That truth was a different story. 

On the inside, that was the exact pin-pointed moment that he fell for her. Most people couldn’t tell you when they fell in love, but he definitely could. At least, when he realized it. 

It was that third Sunday in June when they were standing under that tree in the amusement park to avoid the sun while he untangled her hair with his skilled fingers. Despite the effort to avoid the rays, some still managed to stream in through the leaves, and it highlighted her in the most beautiful way. 

Her eyes looked more glittery than usual, her tangled hair had a shine to it and he could individually count each of her eyelashes. 

When he realized he couldn’t breathe in that moment, he admitted to himself that he probably had a crush on her, despite how much he’d like to prove that dumb movie wrong. 

“Kyun,” he heard, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Kyun!” She smacked his shoulder. “Did you see that ending?” she asked, eyes wide with surprise. “That was such a twist! I didn’t expect it at all!” 

He chuckled and shook his head, rubbing his shoulder. She had a bit of trouble controlling the strength of her hits. “What’s with you and loving low-quality films?” he asked. 

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Maybe my palate isn’t refined enough, or maybe I don’t need things to be perfect to enjoy them.” She smiled. “There can be a lot of plot flaws, and the acting may not be the best, but the point is, it was made for entertainment. And it entertains me,” she finished, plopping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. 

He felt his heart pounding again, just because she was talking about something she liked. How annoying and stupid.

“Can you stop that?” he asked quietly.

She furrowed her brows. “Stop what?”

“Stop looking so kissable,” he said. 

Her eyes widened, and he could’ve sworn he saw her cheeks light up, too. “What’re you talking about?” she stuttered out. 

He moved a little closer, she moved a little farther. Finally, he grabbed her wrists, keeping her in place. “Do you like me?” he asked seriously, gathering all the courage that he was pretty sure he didn’t actually have.

He probably bluffed himself into bravery. 

She choked. “What—?”

He wasn’t quite sure how they ended up with him on top of her, pinning her down to the couch and pressing kisses to the corner of her lips while the rain pattered against the window, but he couldn’t really complain. 

If anything, the bundle of nervous energy in his stomach pushed him forward. He tried to read her expression. It looked like there were a million thought going on, running a mile a minute.

He leaned down farther, just to get a better look into her eyes.

“Stop it,” she whispered into the dimly lit room, breaking a heavy silence that had taken over the usually very comfortable space of her living room.

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Ah. 

So, that’s how they got there.

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“I’ll ask you again,” Changkyun said, interrupting her thoughts. His eyes looked almost desperate, in a way. Desperate for an answer, or something of the sort. “What happens if I don’t wanna stop here?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, taking a deep breath through her nose. “Then I would say you should be more considerate,” she said firmly. “Think about how I feel in this situation.” 

“Turned on?” he offered. 

She smacked his side, making him flinch. “Don’t treat this like a joke!” she chided. “Can you be serious for one second?” 

“I am being serious!” he assured her, his grip tightening around her wrists. “Am I not sounding sincere enough for you? Do I have to be more forward—more clear? Well, guess what!” he said. He stared her dead in the eyes. “I know,” he spoke cryptically.  

She glared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I know you like me like I like you,” he said simply. He wasn’t cocky about it. More matter-of-fact than anything else. 

She rolled her eyes, scoffing a little. “Don’t be an idiot—” she started. 

“Why haven’t you pulled away yet?” Changkyun cut in. She froze, no words leaving her half-open mouth. “I know better than anyone else; you hate being physically suffocated, so clearly... You don’t feel suffocated by me.” 

She swallowed thickly. “What’re you getting at?” she asked, trying to steadily meet his burning and heavy gaze. 

He tilted his head a little, almost like a shrug. “Maybe I help you breathe easier,” he said. “Maybe you trust me to be this close to you. Closer than anyone else ever has.” 

She frowned, looking off to the side. “You’re my friend,” she said. “One of my best friends—if not the best. I should hope I feel comfortable around you.” 

He huffed out a breath, the mint flavor on his tongue fanning out over her face. “Do you have something going on mentally, or do I just have to say it first for you to accept it?” he asked. 

She furrowed her brows. “What’re you talking about—?”

“I love you,” he interrupted, his eyes swimming with emotion and desperate. “I love you so much.” 

Her breath caught in her throat. Changkyun wasn’t one for cheesiness like this. In fact, he tended to avoid it at all costs. 

It felt strange. 

Different.

Not unwanted. 

“You are...” It looked like he was struggling to find the right words, which was odd for such a talented lyricist. He sighed. “My best friend, for one,” he said. With a small internal struggle, he met her eyes. “But you’re also a hell of a lot more than that. You’re one of the most unique things I’ve ever felt in my life. You’re like a goddamn emotional rollercoaster.”

He chuckled. “I don’t know when I started feeling this way for you. It was just all of a sudden,” he explained in a quiet voice. “Maybe it was ‘cause we kept touching hands on the subway—just on accident. Maybe it was ‘cause you started giving me goosebumps when you laughed because of something I said. Maybe it was ‘cause I gave you that piggyback-ride when you sprained your ankle and you whispered ‘thanks’ in my ear.”

His brows furrowed quizzically. “Or maybe it was ‘cause you’re the only person I’ve ever known that’s gotten me to fully enjoy a Disney movie. At any rate, it’s an impressive feat.” 

His grip on her wrists loosened up. “You piss me off more than anyone I know and I wanna strangle you 75% of the time, but at the same time, I know that I could never stay angry at you for too long.” Gently, he slipped a hand behind her back, pulling her up into a sitting position with him. 

It confused her how soft he was suddenly being, moving a socially acceptable distance away from her and letting her have some breathing room. He kept his hands to himself, folding them politely in his lap and sitting with his back straight. It was like he was meeting her parents, which was a strange thought in the first place.

“I feel like you can heal me when I’m the most screwed up I've ever been, and I know for a fact that you’ve got my back through thick and thin. You are my intense wave of happiness everyday, and sometimes, I’m a real jerk to you, just because you make me nervous. Despite how much I freak out ‘cause of you, you also calm me down better than anyone else,” he said with a deep breath. 

He played with his fingers before folding his hands neatly again. “I wanna be there for you, too,” he said, swallowing a visible lump in his throat. Despite how obviously wrecked he was inside, he never broke eye-contact. “But I’m really scared to do that without letting you know how I feel right now, ‘cause I feel like I’ll seriously mess up one day if I keep it to myself. Like I’ll push myself on you when you don’t want me.” 

She pulled her knees to her chest slowly, eyebrows furrowed in hesitant concentration. “And why is that?” she asked, the first words out of her mouth in quite some time. Her voice sounded almost hoarse. 

His tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips. “Because I think you’re beautiful,” he said, making her heart skip a beat or two. “And incredibly sexy,” he added with a shrug. “That’s not very... Best-friendsy, now is it?” 

She let out a small laugh, even though her head was spinning. As expected of Changkyun. Only he could make her laugh in a situation like this. 

So many thoughts ran through her mind. Half of it was wondering why he was suddenly so open and emotional, but the other half was questioning her own emotions. Her pride. 

There was a certain level of not wanting to give in—not wanting to break the promise she’d made to herself when she’d first realized her feelings for him. She had assured herself vehemently, “There are other people out there. It isn’t just Changkyun. You shouldn’t be so captured by him”. 

Yet even after all that convincing, he was still the only one she could see. 

The whole world passed her by in a fit of shifting glory every single day, but it still paled in comparison to him. In a way, the idea of getting lost without a compass to guide her was less scary than getting a step closer to him.

They say: “The higher you are, the farther you have to fall”. The feeling of knowing that Changkyun felt the same about her put her on top of the world, and isn’t that about as high as one could go?

With that thought in mind, it was terrifying to imagine, “What if it doesn’t last?” They say that about first loves—that they never last. They’re enjoyable, nerve-wrecking, a learning experience, and they teach a heart how to feel. 

Really feel, that is.

But what if one day, that feeling faded, and they were left with nothing but a wilting memory of each other? Would she be able to stand that?

She searched his eyes, raking over the dark orbs that she’d become so familiar with. She could read those eyes. She could tell when he was being sincere, and this was definitely one of those times.

So what if it hurt a little bit in the end? 

They would be each other’s hurt. Maybe she could set aside her pride for his love—for his pain. Nothing is set in stone, happiness and sadness alike.

“No, I guess it’s not,” she said, clearing her throat. “I guess we’re not best friends anymore.” 

Fear lit in his gaze, like a question of what he said wrong. 

“We’ll just have to date, then,” she said, scooting forward a little, just enough so that their knees lightly touched. “‘Cause for whatever reason, I’m not willing to let your ass out of my sight.”

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Let us pray for non-crappiness. 🙏 

Thank you so much for requesting this, @lostmyshame​! I had an absolute blast writing it, and I hope that you enjoyed reading it. I honestly haven’t been writing very much recently, ‘cause life has been busy, so I’m trying to get back into the groove of things. I hope this wasn’t too disappointing, considering it was kind of my ‘practice round’. 

Stop by anytime—it was a pleasure having ya!

[joeys-piano]

odazai :3c or if you've already been asked for it, then dazatsu!

I only have enough energy to do the Odazai one, Luka~ Since this ask is pretty long (nearly 4k!), here’s the gist if you’re unable to read the full version at this time:

Far from being a perfect couple, what’s emotionally intimate and personal about Dazai and Oda’s relationship is that despite their differences and their faults, they make strides in understanding each other and in recognizing each other’s boundaries. It’s not always perfect, there are mishaps and mistakes along the way, and certain things are a rather sore subject to them both. But something admirable and important to take away from this is that Dazai and Oda make an effort to listen to each other, to understand the undercurrent of tension and stress that lapses between them at times, and they’re both gradually moving forward with what they have learned and that adds vitality and strength to their relationship.

Send Me A Ship, And I’ll Tell You…

who is more likely to hurt the other?While it would seem contrary and even OOC for me to say this, I believe that Oda would be more likely to hurt Dazai. Before you stab me for my hearsay, let me explain.  The term “hurt” can be used as an umbrella term for different types of pain: physical, emotional, mental, etc… Oda wouldn’t physically or mentally hurt Dazai. He has no reason to, and it’s not in his nature to lash out in those ways. The only pain that Oda ever dealt to Dazai was emotional.

We see this towards the end of the Dark Era arc when Oda bids his final farewell to his children before confronting Gide. In the silence of that moment, with desperation rising in his throat, we watch and listen as Dazai asks – no, pleads – for Oda to think this over and find something else to live for. For the first time, the demonic mask of the Port Mafia Executive falls. Left behind and hardly unscathed is the face of a child, of a young man who had nothing to live for but is desperately clinging onto the one person that his world wouldn’t be the same without. Despite all of this, despite this probably being the first time Dazai has ever broken from his usual composure, Oda tells him that he can’t do that.

To Oda, if he was to go back on this, his children would’ve died for nothing. Their deaths would forever haunt him if he couldn’t avenge for them, himself. What’s even more emotionally painful about this scene is that this is one of the few, poignant moments where Oda doesn’t yield to Dazai’s words. It’s hard to put up a nonchalant front and casually go along with what your friend is saying when you’ve lost some of the most important people in your world. With that established and mutually understood, Oda leaves behind a gaping hole within Dazai’s heart before departing from the scene.

But even if we forget that canon exists and we’re lawlessly frolicking through the land of AU, I still stand by the idea that Oda is more likely to emotionally hurt Dazai. Not in a sense where there’s a lack of respect or trust in the relationship, not in a sense where everything’s on the rocks and hearts are on edge, but in the sense of honesty. Of the duo, Oda is more of an honest man and Dazai knows this. So when Oda says something, the weight behind his words is even heavier because there’s no hidden agenda to obscure anything. Oda means what he says. So sometimes, whether intentional or not, what he says hurts.

Dazai isn’t someone who’d flourish his heart at his sleeve. Or in other words, he’d rarely admit if he was hurt by something Oda had said. I’d imagine that Dazai would take Oda’s words into consideration and resolve to do better if disappointment is what’s lingering in the air. Having known him for a considerable amount of time, Oda would notice the slight shift in Dazai’s words and body language and realize that he had hurt him.

who is emotionally stronger?At a first glance, it seems 50/50. Oda and Dazai both possess an incredible amount of resilience and resolve, so I have no idea who would be emotionally stronger than the other! I’d say that they’re both equals when it comes to this^^

who is physically stronger?At first glance, you’d think it’s Oda. Former-assassin, former glorified handyman of the Port Mafia, and probably dragged a very drunk-off-his-ass Dazai from the Bar Lupin after a long Friday night…

This question ultimately depends on what you mean by physical strength. If we’re talking about endurance and physical prowess, I’d say that Oda has the upperhand in that department. If we’re talking about endurance in regards to physical pain and taking into account the body’s rate of healing after being afflicted by a series of injuries, Dazai wins in that department. They’re both physically stronger than the other in different ways.

who is more likely to break a bone? Dazai has probably broken as many bones in his body as there are stars in the sky.

who knows best what to say to upset the other?Dazai. Sometimes, whether he means well or not, he knows exactly what to say to garner a rise from Oda. Sometimes it’s through a careless phrase or a careless set of words, sometimes it’s through an overly elaborate explanation when only a word or two would suffice or sometimes, Dazai drifts a little too far and Oda is reeling him back. Oda is a writer, after all. He can decipher many of the nuances behind Dazai’s words.

who is most likely to apologise first after an argument?Dazai is aware when he takes an argument too far, so I could see him being the first to apologize. There are moments where he’ll fixate on a little thing and an argument escalates as a result of that fixation. Oda would’ve grown tired of it and would try to move on, but Dazai would reel the topic back into the foreground of the conversation until A] Oda tells Dazai that he needs some time to himself or B] Oda may have to raise his voice so Dazai would know that he doesn’t want to continue the conversation anymore.

Dazai never realized he had a habit of fixating on certain things in conversations until he saw how upset Oda was during one of its first occurrences. Before Oda could apologize for raising his voice, an air of exasperation at his tongue, Dazai apologized first. He’d apologize for not paying attention to Oda’s boundaries, for pushing Oda beyond his comfort zone, and for ignoring his repeated asks/requests to change the topic of conversation. Dazai initially ignored these things because this is the same tactic he’d used to whittle information out from traitors, criminals, and hostages that had found their way into one of the Port Mafia’s interrogation rooms. He didn’t think that old tactic would emerge in his and Oda’s relationship, but now he knows.

who treats who’s wounds more often? Oda is one of the very few people that Dazai trusts enough for this job. Dazai is intimately aware of how vulnerable he is while his wounds are getting treated, and he trusts Oda enough to know that the man won’t stab him while he’s getting stitches or rubbing ointment over his bruises.

who is in constant need of comfort? Having forsaken his humanity while living under the Port Mafia’s name, there are moments where Dazai reaches out for Oda and cuddles into the man’s arms. Because within that moment, while surrounded by Oda’s warm and tight embrace, Dazai feels a little more human. He feels like he’s able to continue on this path of being a good person, a person striving towards the light. He feels a little safer, able to let down his guard and simply be himself. He feels whole, even though he’s a few cracks away from falling apart. Oda is the embodiment of Dazai’s strength, so Dazai snuggles against him to regain that strength.

who gets more jealous? I can see slight shades of this from both of them. Where for Oda, the jealousy manifests as a want to protect Dazai from others that might be using him for their own good or for worse. And for Dazai, the jealousy manifests like a calm before a storm when he quietly confronts someone on what their intentions are with Oda. Jealousy, especially when in regards to love, isn’t an emotion that I write about often so I’m not sure how to answer this^^

who’s most likely to walk out on the other? Dazai. Not because he wants to, but because it’ll protect Oda and the world that Oda believes in. 

who will propose? It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man with everything to live for would want to share that everything with the man he has longed for. For someone as exquisite and as eccentric as Dazai, marrying him in a church was one of the last things on Oda’s mind. But to marry him like this, with Life and Death as their sole witnesses, perhaps it wasn’t a strange idea after all. In a beautiful yet peculiar way, it made sense to die together in order to live together.

So after an unsuccessful attempt at leaping from a bridge and falling into a river, while Dazai fished him from the edge of the embankment and congratulated him for surviving his first suicide attempt, Oda proposed right then and there. When Dazai reached out his hand, Oda clasped a wet engagement ring against his palm and asked if Dazai would marry him. The only sound that registers to Oda’s ears are the quick, short breaths that unfurl from Dazai when he realizes what the latter has just asked. He mumbles quietly, more to himself than to anyone else, that he’d only bring Oda trouble. Without missing a beat, Oda replies that in loving someone for who they are, to know their flaws and love them too, was an honest kind of love. That’s how Oda described his love for Dazai, and Dazai just stares at him before a smile threatens to break his expression.

who has the most difficult parents?Considering I know nothing about their family history, I can’t answer this question with confidence! If I were to guess, I’d say Dazai.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? During the soft lulls where they’re walking together, occasionally brushing hands because they’re walking so closely to one another, Oda reaches out for Dazai and Dazai intertwines their fingers together. They fit so naturally, hand in hand, as if there’s nowhere else that their hands could be.

who comes up for the other all the time? I don’t know what this question means.

who hogs the blankets? Occasionally, but more often than Oda could count, he’d sleepily climb into bed and discover that all the blankets are gone. The fleece, the cotton, the synthetic wool, the heater-blanket that Dazai has cherished during the past four years of their relationship, and the thin sheet that Oda often drapes under because his body overheats at night are gone. Disappeared. Vanished, like they were never here. Patting his hands around the bed, eyes still closed and heavy with sleep, Oda tries to figure out where everything had gone. Eventually, his hands meander from his side to the bed to Dazai’s. Where his fingers thread through Dazai’s hair, where his palm lightly taps Dazai’s snuggled cheek, and….where Oda’s hands discover a large and fluffy blanket cocoon where Dazai’s body should be.

It takes about fifteen seconds before Oda feels like he has enough energy to open his eyes, and what he sees makes him wonder if he’s dreaming. Dazai had wrapped all of the blankets around himself, and he’s currently snugged like a burrito on his side of the bed. If the light snoring is of any indication, Dazai is fast-asleep and has already drifted off to La La Land. Sinking into the bed slowly, Oda carefully rolls onto this side and tries to peel the cocoon off from his husband. He knows that Dazai gets cold at night, but this is rather extreme. Especially since the heater-blanket is so closely snugged to Dazai, Oda fears that his beloved will be dead by the next morning because of overheating.

One measly inch at a time, pausing every now and then when Dazai moves or wiggles around, Oda takes his time as he slowly unravels the cocoon. With each layer that he manages to peel off, Oda can discern a sweet smell. It’s faint, almost like the vanilla body wash that’s in the shower right now, and Oda can find the smell on the sheets and it’s even stronger with every blanket-layer he manages to pull off from Dazai. Ah, Dazai must’ve fallen asleep as soon when he got out from the shower. Probably cold from the lack of steam around him, it would’ve prompted him to fashion this blanket cocoon. It all made sense now. The last blanket-layer, the heated-blanket, remained untouched as Oda gathered the rest of the cocoon and lazily dispersed the layers around the bed. Draped under his thin sheet, now secure and slightly protected from the cold, Oda can finally sleep.

But oh, he’s roused from his slumber and it’s barely been five minutes! As he opens his eyes, Oda realizes that he’s slowly being turned. Somewhere in the midst of sleep, Dazai had instinctively reached out for Oda and is currently tangled yet snuggled under the man’s arms and legs. It was as if Dazai could sense that his blanket cocoon had been destroyed, so he carefully crafted another. Where instead of reaching out for the sheets, Dazai reached out for the warmest thing in the vicinity. So that’s how a very toasty Dazai and a very sleepy Oda would fall asleep on most nights. Where Dazai is secured, warm, and affectionately cuddled while Oda tenderly embraces him and feels a little colder when Dazai steals his thin blanket and is too tired to fish for it again.

who gets more sad? Sadness isn’t the only thing that lingers when Dazai is upset, but frustration crackles like a fire if he’s left to his own devices. Maybe sadness and frustration aren’t the only feelings, caged within his heart. Perhaps, there’s a note of exhaustion that unfurls as a whisper because Dazai keeps it to himself.

Sometimes, there are moments where he doesn’t have the energy to be a good person. Sometimes, he feels less inclined to help others and wishes for them to figure out what they need to do instead. Sometimes, it really bothers him how others have a much easier time of being a good person while this is something that Dazai still struggles with. Two, four, six years down the line. He’s tired, emotionally and mentally drained. Unable to put up his usual antics at the office and is aware of Kunikida and Atsushi are staring at him, brows knitted with concern. Dazai leaves the agency early that day and when he gets home, he’s writhed with shame and disappointment with how he’s been acting.

When he left the Port Mafia with Oda, he knew it’d be hard. He knew he’d struggle with being a good person, he knew he’d have to persevere and push through whatever he was dealing with, and…Dazai’s thoughts are interrupted when the front door opens and Oda is watching him with a peculiar glint in his eyes.

The door had been unlocked, but no one was coming inside. That was why Oda opened the door, concerned that something must’ve happened. And he looks at Dazai and sees the weariness in his eyes, Oda takes Dazai by the hand and slowly leads him to the kitchen where he can sit down. Dazai is so stiff that he’s unable to ease into his seat, even with the helpful coax of Oda’s hands at his shoulders. A series of tight, worrying knots are hitched at Dazai’s back so Oda massages the aches with a delicate touch.

During moments like this, Oda knows better than to ask Dazai of what’s bothering him. During moments like this, Oda’s first priority is for Dazai to feel comfortable. And then after that, they can work through and talk about whatever is on Dazai’s mind. Oda gives Dazai a choice on when he wants to talk about these things and tries his best not to urge Dazai to speak if the latter doesn’t feel like speaking. By taking things at a slower, more flexible pace, Oda knows that Dazai will be more honest with him when they’re finally speaking. He knows that Dazai won’t be hiding anything from him, and he knows that Dazai won’t be putting up a front to seem strong in Oda’s eyes.

After about an hour, after an early dinner, after a warm and lazy bath where Dazai messed with a rubber duck while Oda shampooed his hair, and after spending nearly the entire evening snuggled at Oda’s side while the latter is reading a book of poetry, Dazai finally speaks. His voice is quiet, his words are murmured into Oda’s skin, but Oda listens to him. He closes the book of poetry and gives Dazai his full, undivided attention as Dazai whispers what’s been bothering him. He confesses his fears, his worries, and everything in between while Oda rubs small circles along his back.

After hearing Dazai’s concerns, Oda talks to him. This is one of those rare and few moments where Oda speaks a lot more than he usually does while Dazai is quietly listening. Giving advice isn’t one of Oda’s strongest points, so he talks from his own experience and how he kind of figured out that being a good person is more than just being good. You can still be a good person, even if you have bad thoughts or impulses at times. You can still be and become a good person, even if your past wasn’t grounded in a good place. Oda tells Dazai that sometimes being a good person involves struggling through, working against, or even despite these things. That Dazai isn’t any less of a good person because he has to work a lot harder than others, but that he’s grown into a stronger and more self-aware person that recognizes where pitfalls are and consciously makes the choice to do more good rather than harm.

Despite being a writer, sometimes words aren’t Oda’s strongest points. He hopes that what he said helped Dazai, even if it was a little bit. Because in truth, Oda’s still trying to figure this out for himself. He’s been through whatever Dazai’s feeling right now, he’s thought the same thoughts, and felt the same frustrations that would leave him out of it for weeks. During those times, what helped Oda the most was having Dazai with him and having someone to talk to. During moments like this, Oda wants to be there for Dazai even if he isn’t quite sure of what to do. But the effort and company sure helps.

who is better at cheering the other up? Considering the above, I think it’s Oda.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?A glass or two of whisky has been dropped on multiple occasions because Dazai doesn’t know his own strength when he playfully slaps Oda on the shoulder. The two would be joking about something and Dazai would tell the corniest, worst joke in the history of all jokes. And while he’s laughing his butt off, his hand starts flying and makes an impact with Oda’s shoulder. After a few times, the couple has agreed to an unspoken rule that jokes should be reserved at home. Where the cups are made of plastic, where the alcohol is much cheaper, and where there isn’t a bartender to apologize to whenever a portion of whisky goes flying across the bar.

who is more streetwise?Dazai without a doubt. He knows where all the local gangs are and used to antagonize them when he was younger, more brash, and more trigger-happy with a gun. Since joining the ADA, he has mellowed out and has used his street knowledge to aid the agency when they’re busting arson loots and drug trades.

who is more wise?Dazai has more wisdom when it comes to life, death, and the role of violence when the opportunity is in one’s hands. Oda has more wisdom when it comes to experience, philosophy, and the role a person takes if they’re wanting to reform their life. It really depends on what kind of wisdom you’re talking about.

who’s the shyest? People would say that Oda’s the shyest out of the couple because he’s quiet, he doesn’t speak very much, and he isn’t one for rowdy environments. They would say he’s shy because most of his activities are very introverted (writing, reading, preferring home rather than going outside, etc…) People would often say that if it wasn’t for Dazai, it’d be a wonder if anyone would notice Oda at all. While these assumptions have some truth to their foundations, anyone that knows Oda knows that he isn’t shy.

Oda’s quiet because he’s observing the world, the people, and the environment around him and acts accordingly depending on that observation. He doesn’t speak very much because often, he doesn’t need to speak at all. Or if he does want to speak, he’s carefully choosing his words and deliberates if what he wants to say makes sense, if what he says is polite, and if what he says is meaningful/necessary to the discussion. His activities are rather introverted because he’s a writer. He spends his days at home, working on his manuscript or reading a good book to entice his imagination, and it’s pretty hard to write on the go when you can’t control the weather or the people around you. Oda’s quiet and stoic nature is one of the first things that distinguishes him from a crowd, and people are often drawn to him because there’s this mysterious allure and atmosphere surrounding him. Were it not for Dazai, it’d be a wonder if anyone would talk to Oda at all.

But when the world sees that this dashing young fellow, tackling Oda into a surprise hug, all of the people can breathe a little sigh for Oda’s not as intimidating as he looks.

who boasts about the other more? If Kunikida had a notebook for every moment Dazai talked about Oda, he’d be drowning in a lot of notebooks. Without fail, Dazai would boast about a lot of Oda’s accomplishments. No matter if they’re big or small. Since Oda rarely goes out because he’s working on his manuscript, Dazai takes it as his duty to remind the world of what a good, sweet, caring, and hardworking person his husband is. In which Kunikida will argue how such a good husband married a slacker like Dazai. And in turn, Dazai will have a hand at his chest and dramatically accuse Kunikida of such slander! They would be at each other’s throats were it not for Oda, calling in at the right moment to calm Dazai down and to apologize to Kunikida on behalf of his husband’s behavior.

who sits on whose lap?The simple answer is that they take turns. Dazai sits on Oda’s lap during soft, calm moments where they’re both reading or watching the TV. Oda sits on Dazai’s lap when the latter wants a good cuddle session and claims that he has an easier time when Oda’s on his lap.

[hbwbyniall]

The Letter Club

This a Sherlock AU, it’s also @fuckanarry ‘s fault so she had to help me with the corrections. This took me forever bc my life is a mess and I think I just became an adult this year so I’m constantly suffering.

Enjoy!

His walking stick resonates in the entire abandoned warehouse as he walks in and Niall wonders if he’s really this stupid. One second he was walking down London streets and the next public phones start ringing wherever he stands until he picks up and this mysterious voice of a woman demands him to get into a car that appears out of nowhere to take him to this empty place with the only indication of walking straight by a woman dresses in a suit with tattoos covering her hands and arms.

He's not intimated, he's just curious and a bit impressed. Perhaps h33e wants to meet the person capable of using security cameras and public phones at their will, he especially wants to know what a person like that would want with a person like him. Niall leans his weight on the walking stick to speed up his steps until he sees a silhouette at the end of the hallway.

It’s a woman leaning on a closed umbrella with her other hand on her waist. As Niall gets closer, he gets a better look at her. She’s beautiful in a way that makes his bones tremble and his feet trip, her eyes are cold and stoic, her skin is fair and Niall can see some freckles behind the makeup and the red lips. She’s also young, way younger than he expected by the sound of her voice on the phone, assuming it was her voice.

So, he immediately starts looking for a way out:  he tries to calculate the distance between the center of the place, the door he just entered from and the door behind the woman; he tries to think how fast he can be with a defective knee and how much damage would he need to make to get out of danger. He moves slowly, taking all in before, remembering the feeling, the spark of adrenaline running down his spine, his brain working full speed and the smirk he's trying to hide.

Her dark green eyes follow him until he stands in front of her and a single chair in the middle of the open space. He clears his throat. Her hair goes down to her shoulders and looks like a brown wavy cascade that moves elegantly at the slightest head movement. Her hand falls into the left pocket of the black suit pants. She opens her coat with the other hand, holding the umbrella under her fingers and Niall can see the black and white jacket.

She's rich. He can tell by the way her hair shines on the top of her head to the expensive high heels with the red coloring part at the back. He also knows by the way she's looking at him, examining him. Niall loses up the collar of his shirt and puts both hands on the handle of his walking stick.

“Sit down, John," she says with the same refined tone he heard on the phone just moments ago.

"You know," Niall says looking around him, “I’ve got a phone.” He tilts his head to the right to get a better look of the woman in front of him. “I mean, very clever and all that,” he smiles with the same arrogance he sees in her face, “But you could’ve just called me.”

“When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes,” she smiles, looking at her feet and Niall’s smile slowly start to fade away. How does she know Harry? “One learns to be discreet.”

Niall looks around him, then. He is in some kind of warehouse and it’s completely empty besides for the two of them standing in the middle of a large room and the car that drove Niall here, which is waiting to return him behind him, according to what that lady with the tattoos; Louise, Niall remembers when she introduced herself; said. The lights are on but the place smells like it's been washed with rainwater and Niall's starting to get a stuffy nose.

“Your knee must be hurting you. Sit down,” she says again, pointing at the chair behind him with her hand but Niall doesn’t move.

“I don’t want to sit down," Niall answers, not breaking eye contact as she smirks. “Who are you?” he finally asks.

“Who I am is not important right now,” she says, looking directly at his eyes with a smile. “I’m more interested in your relationship with Sherlock Holmes.”

“What do you have to do with Harry?” Niall replies with a question and her whole facial expression changes.

She slowly frowns, letting every single part of face fall as she looks at Niall like she’s seeing him for the first time. Maybe Niall accidentally found a weak spot, something the person in front of him didn't expect him to know, but he can't figure out what exactly it was. That is probably due to the fact of how hard he's trying to not look nervous or freak out right now, but if there's anything he has learned in the last couple of days then he should start getting used to this kind of thing.

"So you call him Harry," she says and Niall can hear the surprise in her voice. "Only a few people call him that.” And he doesn’t know if she’s whispering to him or to herself.

The woman clears her throat and looks to her right holding the umbrella with both hands. She's smiling again, but it's a different smile; it's calm and almost imperceptible like it's a secret.

“What’s your connection with Sherlock Holmes?” she asks again and Niall physically steps back.

"I don't have one," Niall answers, eager for clearing his throat too but not letting himself show any type of weakness, even if it’s over something he cannot control. “I barely know him,” he explains and then Niall realizes he doesn’t know Harry at all. “I met him… a few days ago.”

The woman laughs and Niall can see it in her eyes, she doesn’t believe it. But that’s the thing, Niall is not lying. Two days ago he was struggling to find an affordable place to live in London and the next day he bumps into Ed, an old friend, and he introduces him to Sherlock Holmes, who was looking for a flatmate, and then it was all a blur.

 Harry and Niall were having some breakfast in the restaurant of one of his acquaintances to talk about Baker Street, the rent and the requirements when Lestrade called him for a case. Harry asked him if he wanted to come along and Niall hasn't agreed to something that fasts in a long time. He knew very little about Sherlock Holmes but what he did know is that he works for the police solving cases which only a few other people know seemed to know.

“He’s not a public person.” Said Ed when he told him about Harry before introducing one to the other.

Niall studied with Ed Sheeran in an all-boys boarding school back in Ireland and for some reason, he bumped into him in a park in London after many years of not hearing about each other and after a bit of small talk, he said that he knows someone who’s also looking for a flatmate. Half an hour later, they're both standing in front of a Laboratory's door with Sherlock Holmes inside.

If he has to be honest, Niall didn’t believe a word Ed told him about Harry. Legends are always being exaggerated and even the name “Sherlock Holmes” sounded like an urban legend. So he wasn’t prepared at all for what was waiting on the other side of the door or how he felt completely unarmed and vulnerable in front of his eyes, because apparently, all he needed was a look to uncover Niall’s biggest secrets. He was intrigued.

So, while he didn’t get the chance to see him in the case he was working on when they met, he jumped on the opportunity of seeing the great Sherlock Holmes in action the moment he got that call while they were having breakfast.

Niall has been at war, worse than that, he has been an army doctor. He has seen the worst condition of the human body and has seen more pain than anyone can handle in a lifetime. Seeing the boy's body in that room reminded him of that and quiet surprised Lestrade that he didn’t react to it after Harry briefly introduced them. The truth is he wanted to puke, right there in front of everyone.

His shoes were missing, his face was smashed, his fingertips were severely damaged, and blood was everywhere. The smell of it was strong as well, it was on the floor, the walls, and the bed where he was lying. Lestrade called the crime scene a “mess”, Harry called it “interesting”.

Seeing him "in action" wasn't quite what he expected. He is quiet except when he tells people to move or not to touch certain things, but then he just observes and only talks to Lestrade. He only asked about the time of death and he did it looking at Niall who wasn't ready to be involved, thus it took him a couple of minutes to understand the fact that he was talking to him and to give him an answer.

After that he didn’t need much. He knew who found him – not the name of the person but he knew it was in the morning after the party ended by the owner of the house –, he also knew that the kid was wealthy and he came with companion, not just one person but a group, maybe some friends from university, and he also knew they left the crime scene somewhere around two in the morning. When he was done he left the room, leaving Lestrade taking notes and Niall standing in the middle of it, wondering if he just made all of it up or he really just needed a few looks at the room to figure it out.

 He knew things about Niall no one else could, like how he used only his first name and his last name when he was serving in the army instead of Niall because he thought he would be saving some part of himself he didn’t want to lose once he joined. He knew about his knees and how he used to play guitar by one glance at his nails. He knew about his brother’s alcoholism and how his wife left him just by looking at his phone and when he finally looked into his eyes, Niall felt like that man already knew everything that could be known about the Irish doctor and he felt exposed like never before.

Only then he asked him to call him Harry and meet at 221-B Baker Street.

“Mhmm,” the woman approaches him and the proximity of the dark green eyes makes Niall blink a couple of times until he can finally focus, “…and since yesterday you’ve moved in with him and now you’re solving crimes together.” Niall is starting to feel a bit dizzy. “Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?”

Who is this woman? “Who are you?” Niall asks again, louder this time.

"An interested party," she says this time, easily, like she has answered that question a hundred times before.

“Interested in Harry? Why?” Niall steps forward but she doesn’t move, just crosses her arms under her breast and looks up at Niall, directly into his eyes. “I’m guessing you’re not friends,” he says slowly as he evaluates her reaction.

She laughs again but this times it’s more genuine, like Niall actually said something funny.

“You’ve met him.” She smiles at him, tilting her head to the side, looking at him condescendingly. “How many friends do you imagine he has?”

It's not the first time he has heard that in such a short amount of time. Harry seems to be surrounded by all these different kind of people and they all seem to want something from him. They rely on him but at the same time, he seems so… lonely. There’s something in his eyes, the void of any kind of emotions in the way he talks that makes Niall think he was the one in the war instead of him.

And that just makes him wonder more and more about the green eyes and the curly brown hair. The little things that disconcert him that somehow are out of Harry’s character, like the hidden smiles he has caught every time he deducts something and turns out to be right or how his hands go soft in his pocket after he gets something he wants, or how childish he is in general but hides it behind a cunning look on his face or his haughty tone of voice when he explains something not everyone understands.

Everyone around him finds him annoying, but Niall, he finds him fascinating and kind of amusing.

“I’m the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Harrington Holmes is capable of having.” She interrupts his train of thought again and this time, Niall frowns.

“And what’s that?” Niall asks.

“An enemy.”

Niall freezes for a second to look into her eyes. She means it.

“An enemy?” he finds himself asking again and she nods.

“In his mind, certainly.” She uses the umbrella to support her weight again, stepping in the middle with her legs open and somehow, she looks even more intimidating than five seconds ago. "If you were to ask, he’d probably say his arch-enemy. He does love to be dramatic.” She laughs and for a second Niall thinks he sees fond in her eyes before the now familiar cold returns.

He does. Harry is quite dramatic which Niall can tell from the handful of times they have spent together so far. But now Niall is very confused. Who has an arch-enemy? What do you have to do to even have an enemy?

“And you don’t?” Niall asks looking at the empty space around them, trying to make a point. This whole charade, making public phones ring, moving surveillance cameras, black car picking him up in the middle of the street and an intimidating assistant that guides him into empty storage only to find a woman standing there with red lips and in a suit.

That’s a bit theatrical and Harry would love it. Niall can't help when the look on the woman's face breaks a little and she's about to say something but Niall's phone beeps and he takes it out of his pocket only to find a text from Harry.

Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. –H.

Niall clears his throat as he thinks what could have come up since he left Harry with Detective Inspector Lestrade and how long he’s been back home already.

“I hope I’m not distracting you,” she says to make herself notable again and Niall is grateful for it because he really doesn’t have the time or the head to ask himself why he just referred to Baker Street as home.

“Not distracting me at all,” he answers as he puts his phone back into his pocket but he can't quite shut out his thoughts now. Is Harry okay?

“Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?” Her voice is growing numb as she starts losing Niall's attention but somehow, that sentences make him frown, looking at her from a new perspective, one that makes him feel threatened.

“I could be wrong… but I think that’s none of your business,” Niall replies with a smile trying to imitate her posture, using his stick to do the trick.

“It could be,” she answers, plainly.

"It really couldn't," Niall replies and he's not liking where this is going. He can easily step down and go back to Baker Street to find out what it is that Harry needs from him but that would give him no answers about what he's doing here and who this woman is.

“If you do move into, ehm,” she puts her hand into her jacket and pulls out a red velvet notebook only to open it and read from it, “221B Baker Street,” and Niall freezes.

It shouldn’t really surprise him. Someone with the power of controlling street surveillance cameras and payphones is completely capable of finding out Harry's address, but for some reason his heart starts beating faster and he can feel his hands getting sweaty. He needs to get back to the flat now.

“I could pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way,” she finishes, putting back the notebook where it was at the beginning.

“Why?” he asks, trying not to show how nervous he’s getting.

“Because you’re not a wealthy man,” she says and if Niall can hear the mockery, he ignores it.

“In exchange for what?” Niall reiterates, even if it’s not necessary, even if he already knows the answer.

“Information.” She has that smile again, as if that explains it all. “Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you’d feel… uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he’s up to.”

She sounds so casual, like she’s just asking Niall if he wants milk with his tea or not and Niall wonders if everything in the world of the one percent is that easy. She has money, anyone can tell. She has also power, Niall has seen it before, the way how those kind of people carry themselves. He has seen it in the army, he has seen it as a doctor and he can see it right now, in front of him with a raised eyebrow and red lips.

And now this woman is trying to use her money to do… what? Hurt Sherlock Holmes?

“Why?” He asks because he wants to know before he walks away.

“I worry about him. Constantly,” she says it so seriously; Niall almost believes her.

“That’s nice of you,”he laughs.

She ignores his jab and keeps talking. “But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern goes unmentioned. We have what you might call a difficult relationship.”

Niall doesn’t have the time to ask if they actually have some kind of relationship or if one of them is obsessed with the other one because that’s what it all looks like at this point. His phone vibrates again before he can even open his mouth and he takes it out of his.

If inconvenient, come anyway. –H.

“No,” he finally answers, still looking at his phone and writing a quick reply.

“But I haven’t mentioned a figure,” she says slightly smirking with a mocking tone in her voice.

"Don't bother," Niall says putting his phone back into his pocket.

She looks at him then and crosses her arms. Niall has seen that look on her face before too. She thinks he's stupid, or too naïve, or something else that could make him weak or a liability. His brother had the same look on his face after Niall left his parents' house to enroll in the army, his general had the look on his face when he joined the field operations as a rescue doctor. At least, he proved one of them wrong.

But the thing is, he doesn’t need to prove anything to this woman. There’s a high possibility he won’t see her again and he’s okay with that. This whole thing has been too odd and he no longer thinks his life or Harry’s are in danger. At least for now. She can certainly do whatever she wants and get away with it, but there’s something in her eyes and in the way she talks that tells Niall that she wouldn’t actually hurt Harry.

Or maybe war hasn’t fucked him up as badly as he thought and he’s still seeing the best in people, especially the worst kind of people.

“You’re very loyal, very quickly.” She sounds surprised and Niall can already see the pity in her eyes and hear the incredulous tone on her voice. She thinks he’s too naïve, then.

“No, I’m not,” he replies, holding his walking stick even tighter in his fist, “I’m just not interested.”

She pulls out her little notebook and Niall has had enough so he turns around and starts walking, leaving whatever the hell this place is and trying to find out how to get to Baker Street.

“Trust issues…says here.” Her voice makes him stop and slowly turn back around.

There's a couple of notes on yellow paper that she took out of the notebook and which she's now holding in her other hand, and he recognizes those too well.

“What’s that?” he asks anyway, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Could it be that you’ve decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?” She frowns, putting the notes back into the notebook and the notebook into her pocket.

Niall doesn’t move from where he’s standing. The place seems to be even more empty than it was seconds before, if that's even possible. Maybe is the way her words seem to be echoing not only in his head but also resonate in his feet, like it hit the walls and fell into the floor. Somehow, she seems bigger from far away; here she's almost a blur of red and black and white. Niall is starting to think he is seeing things.

He doesn’t trust Harry, it’s not like that. He is just amazed by him and how he seems to know what he’s talking about, where he’s going and what to do in the darkest and creepiest scenarios Niall has seen in the city since he came back. And Niall just… follows him. He hears him talk and doesn’t get offended when Harry insults his average intelligence. That’s all he has done so far and for some reason that has concerned a few people.

“Who says I trust him?” Niall says, leaning his head to the side, his eyes resting on where she keeps the small red velvet notebook.

“You don’t seem the kind to make friends easily.” It doesn’t sound like a question. She asks but it doesn’t sound like a question. She knows it which means she has investigated him too and in another lifetime she would be wrong, but Niall is not the same person he was eight years ago, he is barely a shell from that man.

“Are we done?” Niall clears his throat and put his hands into his coat pockets.

“You tell me.” She walks up to him and her steps resonate in the space, making Niall count the distance between them in steps until she stands in front of him, not that far apart, looking as intimidating as the first moment, just a few minutes ago, when Niall saw her in the middle of the room, standing alone with an umbrella and a red lips turning into a smile, “I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that’s not going to happen.”

“My what?” Niall frowns, making his fist tighter in his pocket.

“Show me.” She gets closer and Niall steps back.

“Don’t.” He stops her by putting the walking stick between them.

She raises her hands up to her chest and Niall takes a couple of seconds to calm his breathing before taking his hand out of his pocket and extending it to her.

"Remarkable." She gently touches his hand and looks intensely at his palm, his knuckles, and his bitten nails.

“What is?” he asks, taking his hand from her to put it in his pocket again.

"Most people… blunder around this city and all they see are streets and shops and cars.” She’s not looking at him anymore, she’s walking around with her eyes on the walls, the floor, the metal doors. “When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see a battlefield.” She turns to him then and points at him with her umbrella, “You’ve seen it already. Haven’t you, Niall?”

“What’s wrong with my hand?” he asks again because she seems to know what she’s talking about.

“You have an intermittent tremor in your right hand." Niall nods. He already knows that, his doctors told him that the second he came back, that's not news, but he waits until she's happy enough with the dramatic pause she’s doing as she stands in front of Niall, her face close to his but Niall doesn’t move. “Your therapist thinks its post-traumatic stress disorder.” Niall flinches and he hates the fact that she took him by surprise. “She thinks you’re haunted by memories of your military service.”

“Who the hell are you? How do you know that?” Now it’s him who gets closer but she evades him as easily.

“Fire her.” She smiles at him. “She’s got it the wrong way round. You’re under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady. You’re not haunted by the war, Dr. Watson… You miss it.”

She walks past him to the door behind him, leaving Niall standing alone with his breathing getting faster and memories he’s trying to suppress crashing into him.

“Welcome back.” He hears her voice getting more and more distant. “Time to choose a side, Dr. Watson.” And then, the door closes.

*

When Niall finally returns to Baker Street, he finds Harry in a robe, lying on his back on top of the old stinky green couch with both hands over his lips and his eyes closed. Niall takes a look around the flat to see it in the same condition he left it in: stacks of paper over the desk against the windows, boxes of files scattered in the floor, and the strange aromas coming from the refrigerator.

Harry doesn’t look harmed or in pain and everything seems to be in its place.

“What’s the inconvenience?" Niall asks, getting out of the coat and hanging it on the coat rack next to the door.

“Can you hand me my notebook?” Harry replies without moving a muscle.

Niall frowns and looks around to see his rose gold laptop resting in the coffee table next to the couch. He could spread his arm and just take it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Harry opens one eye only to see Niall standing in the middle of the living room with both hands on his hips, looking funny with the frown on his face, but his face is starting to get red so Harry closes his eye again until he feels a weight drop on top of his stomach, which briefly takes his breath away. That's going to leave a bruise. He takes his laptop from his abdomen and opens his eyes to access to his mail.

“You made me come here because you wanted me to pass you the stupid laptop? I thought you were in trouble! Or some kind of emergency came up!” Niall speaks loudly, not fully yelling but getting there.

Harry sits up slowly, really looking at Niall instead of the screen for the first time since the latter walked in. He’s been walking in the rain, somewhere outside the city by the mud on his shoes, maybe some abandoned warehouse or storage by the humidity of hair. Harry bites down his smile because he knows exactly what just happened to him.

"I told you to come if it wasn't inconvenient," Harry replies, calmly.

“And then you told me to come if it was inconvenient, anyway!” He’s still mad but not as much as a couple of seconds ago, which is good.

"There's been a breakthrough in the case," Harry says with barely any interest in his tone, "They finally identified the body."

The look on Niall’s face changes completely. He turns to the sofa he has claimed as his as his and sits down to face Harry. "Well, that was fast," Niall says and Harry nods.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and sees a bunch of red notifications coming from the chat bubble with Lestrade’s name on it but he ignores it. If it’s urgent he’d send a mail, Lestrade knows that. Instead he opens the autopsy report to confirm what he already knew the moment he saw the faceless bloody mess in downtown.

“Dylan McKlein,” Harry says.

“McKlein?” Niall asks in disbelieve. “As in the guy that owns a bunch of Biogenetic Laboratories?”

Harry nods again, “More like the son.” He closes the laptop and leaves it on the coffee table to stand up and walk to his room the moment he gets Lestrade’s email asking him to come down to Scotland Yard.

“I met a woman today,” he hears Niall say from the living room, where he’s standing up from the armchair as well.

“Congratulations?” Harry asks, leaving his door open as he takes his black pants and a plaid shirt from his closet.

“Not like that.” Niall enters the room, taking a second to look at Harry changing clothes before clearing his throat. “She offered to pay me to spy on you.”

Harry laughs, putting the pants on and bottoming up the shirt. “Did you accept?”

“No…” Niall doubts, skeptical, offended even.

"Too bad. We could've used the money.” Harry passes him as he walks to the living room to get his coat. He opens the door but stops when he doesn’t hear steps rushing up behind him. “Lestrade need us at the Scotland Yard.”

“I’m wearing the same clothes as yesterday,” Niall offers as an explanation of his temporal inability of movement.

“It’s not my fault you’re too slow at moving in.” Harry takes Niall’s coat from the rack to walk to him and make him put it on arm by arm.

“I haven’t decided if i want to move in yet,” he says, making Harry stop to look him into his eyes.

“We both know you have.”

And with that, Harry disappears through the door frame and down the staircase. Niall follows behind, but not before swearing under his breath.

*

The place is upside down when they get there. Everyone is running from one side of the room to the other, phones are ringing, and they can see Liam in his office through the glass walls. He’s talking to what seems to be a married couple and their daughter. The man is screaming and Liam is trying to calm them down but it doesn’t look like it’s working. That’s the moment when Harry decides to make his way through the current chaos to get to Lestrade’s office.

And that’s the thing about Harry, it’s the way he moves into the masses, the way he walks with his hands in the pockets of his black coat and the collar up, always with that fake intense look in his eyes and the small smirk he thinks no one sees, the way he never greets anyone but is always aware of every person in the room, the way he provokes people only to get a reaction because he can see underneath the surface; he can tell when someone is lying or the moment they make a decision. Maybe that’s how he knew Niall wanted to move into Baker Street, even before he knew it himself, and somehow he’s okay with it.

When Niall sees the two women start crying and the man holding them both, he tries to grab Harry by the arm to stop him from going into the office because Liam obviously just told them the news about their son but unfortunately he’s not fast enough because Harry is already stepping into the office and he’s right there behind him.

Everyone looks up at them but Harry's expression doesn't change when he makes eye contact with the father, he only starts walking in the room, behind the desk until he stands in front of the big window facing the street. Niall stands awkwardly next to the door ready to leave this place once Harry is ready to go. When he’s done with his thing where he stands in the corner of the rooms to look at people and make deductions only he could make, from facial expressions, tones of voice or even the condition of the clothes.

Niall’s brain can’t quite get it yet but he’s getting used to it.

Liam is explaining how they found their son's body in a room of the house where the party was taking place last night. The cause of death wasn't too hard to guess: several traumatisms to the head with a golf club, according to the autopsy. Lots of blood and no fingerprints, and interestingly enough not one of the over eighty guests on the first floor saw or heard anything. The time of death is somewhere around two and four in the morning. He was found by the owner of the house at six in the morning when he was going to sleep in his bedroom.

He was positioned in a fetal position, bruises on his arms and thighs and his black shirt was missing some buttons from the struggle. Niall examined him when he arrived with Harry that morning, his face was unrecognizable and his fingertips were cut in a half to make the process more difficult and from what Harry said, he wouldn’t have a criminal record to compare DNA, but apparently, he was wrong.

“…We were able to identify him by his hair; he was in the system,” Liam explains as he takes a file from his desk to read the charges.

“What?!” The man takes the file from his hands and starts reading it. “Drunk driving?”

That’s when the young woman starts crying harder, gaining her father’s attention.

“It was my fault,” she sobs. “About two months ago he called around three in the morning to get someone to pick him up from a police station but you were already sleeping so…" Her mother starts rubbing her back and she takes a couple of seconds to breathe, "I just went there and paid the bill, I didn't think about a record, I-"

“It’s okay,” Gregory McKlein says, throwing the file on the desk to kiss his daughter on the forehead instead.

Niall looks down because he feels like he’s intruding on something private, and he is. They shouldn’t be here, at least not now when these people look so vulnerable and in pain. Niall understands pain, he lives with it every day just like everyone else. Happiness is just stolen moments with the abstinence of pain. And maybe even Harry understands that because he starts walking to him, to the door and Niall is already turning his body to leave the office as well when he steps back and points at the daughter.

“When were you adopted?” Everyone goes silent and Niall can’t swallow suddenly.

And this is how the magic of Sherlock Holmes works. The world stops and the time slows down. Niall can see the change almost immediately: the air feels heavier and the breathing gets deeper. He can see the anger building up in people's eyes and knuckles being pressed so hard they turn white. That’s also one of many talents that he has discovered from Harry: he infuriates people, a lot. He makes them angry and scared so he always gets a response. But that’s a thin line and Niall is afraid one day he’s going to overstep it.

He wonders if Harry can hear the peoples' heartbeat just like he seems to actually be able to read minds. Maybe he can and maybe the sound of those thoughts is too loud that it makes him carry their pain too, making him the way he is. The father looks back at Harry and the mother slowly opens her mouth in shock. It feels like Harry just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room and everyone is waiting for it to explode. Niall only hopes for Harry to step back, but he already knows it won’t happen.

“What…?” she whispers and Harry steps closer to her.

“Not as a kid, obviously, you don’t feel completely comfortable around them…so, a teenager?” Harry is looking right in her eyes but the mother puts her arm around her so she steps back and the father stands in front of him instead. "You also have an assembly to the woman, is it… a brother? No, a sister. You’re her sister’s daughter, she’s your aunt.” He smiles, putting both hands in his pockets.

Niall walks in to grab Harry by the arm and out of the room, but he’s not moving.

“Excuse me?” The man yells trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over. “Who are you?”

Harry stands up straight, slowly rising to his full height. He is as tall as the man in front of him and he has that petulant look on his face that Niall is starting to recognize. That’s when Liam steps in, making himself a barrier between the two of them.

“This is Sherlock Holmes and his colleague Dr. John Watson,” Liam clears his throat. “They’re consultants of the Scotland Yard.”

Niall knows this is Liam trying to save himself because ‘how else could two civilians be in the office of the Detective Inspector if they’re not related to a case?’ He shouldn't be surprised by Lestrade's reaction but he is, especially because he doesn't feel really useful following Harry around and giving his opinion on things he doesn't really need an opinion for, plus they have medical examiners that could easily do a better job than Niall, but he wants to be selfish because he wants this job or whatever the hell it is that Harry does. He likes it, he likes the adrenaline running through his veins and the way his brain works under pressure and that he always has a response for anything Harry says and how important this is, even if Harry doesn't see it himself.  

He also doesn't miss the little smirk on Harry's face after Liam stands up for him or how he included Niall like they're some kind of package deal now. Niall can see it on his face when he turns to him for a quarter of a second.

We both know you want this.

Niall is starting to hate those green eyes.

“I don’t want them anywhere near this investigation,” the man tells Liam, stabbing his finger on his chest.

Harry starts walking into the room again, with his eyes on the ceiling and his hands inside his pockets.

"But you do," Harry says behind McKlein as he looks at the women sitting on Liam's couch. "If you want to catch your son’s killer, I mean."

McKlein turns to him again. Niall can see the redness of his neck from where he’s standing. He’s furious.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” he says in disbelieve.

That’s when Harry laughs, loudly and rough. “I know you work with bacteria and you probably have the next epidemic, which can easily be used for a biologic attack, freezing under a hundred degrees celsius in one of your laboratories.” The man stands still, almost stepping back and blinking a couple of times. “Oh, you do.”

Harry puts the collar of his coat up and walks to the door.

"Send all the information regarding those projects." He turns to look at McKlein. "I mean all of it: from bank accounts to daily schedules. Don't make me have Watson hack into your services."

And then he walks out of the office, making Niall clear his throat and run after him to catch up.

“You are aware I don’t know how to hack, right?” Niall asks as Harry presses the button to call the lift.

“Of course I am,” Harry says when the lift doors open in front of them. “But he isn’t.”

Niall enters the lift the moment a smile appears on Harry’s face.

*

“Why do you never introduce yourself as Harry?”

They’re in the living room. Harry is reading the newspaper and Niall has been sitting in the chair for way too long now going through the boxes of files that McKlein sent over to Scotland Yard and writing down names and dates, not knowing exactly what it is Harry’s looking for.

He looks up, bending a piece of the paper to see Niall sitting in front of him. The light comes through the window and falls on Harry’s hair and Niall just remembers they haven’t had breakfast yet. He looks down at the paper in his lap only to not look at Harry right now. He has this lump in the middle of his throat every time Harry does this thing where he looks at him and stops doing whatever he is doing and everything on his face seems to stop moving as well.

And Niall doesn't understand it. He doesn't know why he feels this need of moving his hands to distract him from looking at his face or why his neck feels warmer or his feet start taping the floor or why his mouth feels dry and his heart starts beating a bit faster, so he ignores it.

“I don’t use that name very often.” He returns to his reading as if that heavy moment didn't even happen.

“Then, why did you ask me to call you that?” Niall doesn’t know where that question came from but now he needs to know the answer.

“I like how it sounds when you say it,” he says, turning to the next page and reading the title.

Niall goes quiet. He dares to look at him for just a second, at his profile illuminated but the light coming from the window, his fingers holding the paper and his crossed legs as he sits even further in the chair.

“Do you like an Irish accent?” Niall laughs, dropping one file to the floor and picking another one from the top of the box next to him.

"No," Harry answers, looking at him again. "I like yours."

Niall opens the mouth to say another joke that would make him stop feeling so conscious about himself or so aware of Harry’s presence so close to him when Ms. Hudson walks in holding a plate with two cups of tea, sugar, and milk, so he only clears his throat and stands up to help her clear the tea table next to Harry. He drops the bunch of files that he hasn’t touch yet to the floor next to his feet and put the mugs on the table as Ms. Hudson walks downstairs again.

Harry is a quiet person, the reflexive type. He stands or sits in one place for as long as he needs for his brain to navigate that giant web of his, connecting ideas and places and remembering dates or names as if time would wait for him. Niall’s a lucky person; he doesn't know Harry that well but he doubts there's anyone on this earth that confidently could say they know Sherlock Holmes. Niall highly doubts anyone else knows he's also named Harry.

Then, why him? Why would Harry tell him these parts of his life? Why does he feel so strange around him but Harry seems so unbothered? Why does Niall feel like that he can see the man behind the façade he portraits? They haven't spent much time together, they haven’t even talked a lot but somehow Niall knows exactly what Harry means by a look or a single phrase, and it’s funny because Niall has met a lot of people in the course of his life, but hasn't understood anyone the way he gets Harry.

So, when Niall sees he's taking too long reading just one page, he turns to look at the files next to his feet and he realizes it's already ten in the morning and Harry's still in his silky pajamas.

“Why haven’t you picked up a single box since Lestrade came to drop these?” Niall asks, putting sugar and milk in his cup of tea.

“Because the answer is not in any of those boxes," Harry answers, finally turning the page. Niall points at the sugar and he shakes his head, so he takes his cup and walks to the chair to sit.

“What do you mean?” Niall takes a sip, it’s still a bit hot but it’s good enough for Niall to put up with.

“He wasn’t killed because of some bacteria.” Harry finally gives up with the newspaper and throws it somewhere behind him, “He was killed by revenge, poetic justice, call it whatever you want.” He stands up and stretches in front of the chimney.

“Anyone of these people could’ve wanted revenge,” Niall says, as he walks up to Harry. He leaves his unfinished cup on the top of the chimney to pick up a file he left in the important pile at his right. “Fired scientists, accountants, even his partner,” Niall notes, handing him the file.

"He wasn't killed because of his father," Harry responds, ignoring Niall completely as he starts walking into the room. Niall follows his movements with his eyes.

“Then, why did you ask for all of this?” he asks when Harry finally stops in front of that yellow smiley face drawn in the wall with three bullet holes in it.

Harry gets bored easily.

“To distract them,” he answers as he turns to face Niall, using that condescending tone of his, as if that was a well-known fact by everyone. “False sense of security,” he explains, after looking at Niall for a bit too long.

Distract them from what? Finding the real killer of their son? Why would Harry want that, if not -?

“You think his father did it?” Niall says, slowly approaching Harry and standing next to him in front of the wall.

It's empty now but Niall doubts that will be its state for too long. When he first got in the flat the wall was covered in pictures, newspaper and web articles, and they were connected by red threads going from one side of the wall to the other. Harry was in the middle of solving this huge case that took him a week, he barely ate or slept according to Ms. Hudson and Niall only came at the end of it, he wasn't of much help even if Harry told him his "contributions were quite fruitful".

“No.” He touches his chin as if he’s thinking about how to put out another criminal collage on his wall.

“Then who?” Niall asks turning his body to look at Harry’s profile.

“I don’t know yet,” he answers as if it wasn't a big deal like they ran out of milk and he has to go and get some eventually.

Niall wishes he wouldn’t have to look at Harry in disbelief that often, but he does because Harry doesn’t tell him what’s on his mind at any moment. He just tells him what he wants him to do or say when it’s necessary, and apparently this wasn’t one of those times.

"Wait," Niall says looking around him to the pile of unopened boxes and the already read files near his chair that he spent all day yesterday going through. "Why did I go through those boxes if there's nothing of value there?!"

"I didn't ask you to do that," Harry answers, looking at Niall as if he lost his mind. "You picked them up and started reading the files."

“Why didn’t you tell me to stop?” he asks again, trying to remain calm and not think about the zero sleep he got last night.

“Why would I do that?” Harry looks at him in bewilderment. “We’re waiting for Lestrade to call me about the friends anyway.” Weirdly enough, Harry’s phone rings right before Niall can ask for an explanation. Harry answers his phone, nods a couple of times and then he goes to his room to change. The next thing he knows, Harry is throwing him his coat and they're stepping out of Baker Street.

*

There are five kids sitting outside Lestrade's office when they get to Scotland Yard. They're young, around the age of the deceased and they seem to be scared. Niall has seen a lot of scared people in the last few years, he has seen the terror in faces and has heard the tears in someone's voice. These three women and two young men are a perfect example: two of the girls are crying but every single one of them seems to be trembling. They're looking at the lights above their heads, the floor, the rest of the officers, anything but each other.

Harry walks pass them not giving them a second look as he enters Liam’s office. He’s standing next to his desk and talking to someone on the phone when they step in. He points to the couch when he sees them and Niall goes to sit down but Harry stands right in front of Liam, separated only by the desk between them, and waits.

“Are they confessing?” Niall asks when Liam hangs up.

"No, but their lawyers are on their way, so if we want a confession we have to act fast," Liam says, looking outside his office and making eye contact with one of his officers, nodding at the interrogation room.

“You won’t get a confession,” Harry laughs, “Don’t be ridiculous, Lestrade.”

The officer approaches the kids sitting outside the office and guides them to the interrogation room.

“What do you mean?” Liam asks, checking his phone one last time but Harry doesn’t answer. Liam seems to be used to it because he just sighs before stepping out of the office with Harry and Niall walking behind him.

*

“So, let me get this straight…” Liam says slowly, “You found the body, got scared, left the party and burned your clothes with his blood on it and possibly evidence?”

The girl starts crying again, hysterically. Liam is really trying to conduct the interrogation to get something helpful but he’s getting nowhere. Harry and Niall are watching from a different, smaller room which is separated from the interrogation room through a one-way mirror.

The shaky blonde girl in front of them is called Shelly and she is the girlfriend of the deceased. Liam decided to interview every single one of them by himself, so the rest of the group is waiting outside. The girl was the first to find the body but she didn’t call an ambulance and if Niall has to be honest, he doesn’t understand why she would come here and incriminate herself. Eventually Harry would’ve found out about it, he already knew about some “friends” but the girl in front of them makes no sense.

She found the body, got covered in blood and stayed in the bedroom until her friends found her holding the deceased’s body and they all fled the scene without leaving any trace? And without being seen? Something is off and Niall can see Harry thinks the same by the way he frowns as he looks through the window. Maybe he’s trying to catch something in Shelly’s eyes, her trembling hands or her swallowing throat. Niall doesn’t know, the only thing he knows is that Harry is up to something.

“We had a fight earlier that day,” she says and it’s already looking bad for her. “He was supposed to pick me up from the dorms to go to the party but since we don’t talk when we fight I went on my own.” She breathes in a couple of times and Liam writes something down in his little notebook.

She takes a sip from the glass of water on the table. Her hands are not trembling like before but her face is still red from the crying and her blond hair is all over the place. Her eyes look like they were injected with some kind of substance and Niall almost feels sorry for her. She starts looking around her and Liam lets her for just a minute before clearing up his throat but it almost seems like it’s not necessary since she already has an answer on the tip her tongue.

“I saw him a couple of times on the party but I wanted him to come to me,” she’s looking at the door frame with lost eyes and an empty expression, “he never did, so when I saw he was going upstairs I thought he was going to screw some girl and I followed him. I lost him for a minute but when I finally found him, he-,” her eyes start watering again and Liam nods.

Liam pulls out the photos from the crime scene from the file over the table and puts them in front of her. She gasps and touches the picture with the body of Dylan McKlein.

“That’s how you found him?” Liam asks, as he buys her testimony.

She looks at Liam, confused and then she looks at the pictures again, pulling them closer to her and putting it in some kind of order as if she was drawing the room. Niall can’t see exactly what it is she’s doing from that side of the room but he can see her shaking her head.

“I never turned the lights on but he was lying on the bed,” she says, picking up two photographs. “he was lying on his stomach and I turned him over,” she sighs, “then I saw his face-,”

She sounds hurt but it’s not like in the beginning of the interrogation. She sounds concerned and methodic now and the tone of her voice is delicate as if her throat is sore but Niall can see it in her eyes now, he can see it in the way her fingers move all over the pictures trying to give one bit of sense of everything that’s going on, she wants to talk.

“The bedsheets-,” she puts the imagine of the empty and clean bed over the table and looks at it, in shock. “It was all covered in blood, I don’t-”

“Why didn’t you call an ambulance? The police?” Liam asks, taking the pictures from her hands.

She puts her head in her hands, her eyes still glued to the table where the pictures were a second ago. “I was scared, and then Oliver-,”

“Don’t say another word!” In that exact moment the door opens and everyone inside looks up to find a woman in a gray suit holding a briefcase. “I’m her lawyer,” she says looking at Shelly. “And you’re conducting a witness declaration in an interrogation room, detective inspector Lestrade.”

*

The wall is covered again. Photographs of the five friends in strategic points with their names on top top of their faces and Harry’s standing in front of it, looking for answers as the video of their interrogations play behind him on his laptop as a background noise. It’s been almost twenty hours since they’ve been in the flat after Lestrade’s call and neither of them have eaten, slept or showered.

Niall is tired and his vision is starting to get blurry every time he looks up to see the same five photos of the same five faces they have seen for twenty hours. He just wants to go to bed and call it a day but Harry hasn’t moved in two hours and Niall is worried he’s going to spend what’s left of the day in the same spot. So he stands up from the chair and walks up to Harry until he’s standing next to him.

“Isn’t it fascinating, Niall?” His voice is so filled up with emotion and it makes Niall slowly turn to see his face.

He’s smiling so big, just like a kid on Christmas morning about to open a pile of presents. His hands are in the pockets of his pants and he’s bouncing on his toes like he has pure excitement running though his veins.

“The board has never been so empty and yet so full of possibilities,” he says, his eyes going from one photo to the other.

“You do realize that it’s actually a wall, right?” Niall prefers to distract himself from the fact that Harry seems quite pleased at the moment. “It’s the main wall in our living room,” Niall repeats himself, turning his body entirely to face Harry, catching the way the smile on his face changes at his words.

“Our living room?” Harry asks, softly and for a second he looks like a normal thirty-something year old man wearing a robe in the morning, making Niall speechless.

“Why are you so surprised?” Niall says looking at the wall and ignoring the red of his own cheeks and the overwhelming feeling of Harry’s eyes on his face. “I already accepted living here.”

Harry laughs for what seems like the first time since Niall has met him. The sound is deep, coming from the back of his throat and released to the world in a light way, it’s captivating and that scares the shit out of Niall because he has never felt this way for a man before. He’s not stupid, he can recognize the itch on the tip of his fingers or the warm behind his neck, he’s familiar with the numb noise of his ears every time he talks or walks in the room, he has felt it before, but never for someone like Harry.

He doesn’t know what to do with this new information so he walks to the kitchen even though he knows there’s nothing that he could eat as breakfast, or any kind of meal if he has to be honest. Niall can hear Harry in the living room behind him, moving from one side to the other and talking to himself louder than he actually thinks.

It’s not the first time these kind of thoughts appeared on his mind, but that’s all they were, thoughts. It’s different now, the way he feels about Harry is just a confirmation of what he’s been knowing for a long time, and it feels great, it’s terrifying but it’s good. Liberating in some way. So when Niall comes back to the living room with two cups of tea he can’t help but smile at him.

“Why do you look so pleased?” Harry asks when he receives the cup of tea. “It’s like you already know where we’re going next.”

Niall laughs as he sits in the chair next to Harry’s and takes a sip. “Well, I don’t.”

“But I do,” Harry replies, lifting on eyebrow as he drinks the tea.

*

“Why are we here again?” Niall asks as he crawls down following Harry.

There are guards behind the building so he understands the need to not be seen. What he doesn’t understand on the other hand is why Harry had to wait till it was midnight to come to the university campus or why he didn’t just talk to Liam and ask for a warrant. Harry stands up facing the Dean’s office window, takes something from his pocket and forces the bolt until it finally opens. He looks around and steps in.

“Harry!” Niall whispers but he’s already inside, his flashlight pointing to different sections of the room, catching glances of everything.

Niall gives up and enters the room to find Harry sitting at the desk, turning the computer on.

“What are you doing?” He approaches, but Harry doesn’t answer, his eyes flicking across the screen and his fingers clicking non-stop are enough for Niall to know where his attention is.

Niall walks up to him to catch a look at the screen. For someone who understands so much about the world and interactions and deductions, Harry seems so oblivious to the simplest things.

“It needs a password, Harry,” Niall whispers into his ear, looking at the door in front of them, feeling that someone could find them at any second.

“A password, of course!” Harry whispers back and hands him the flashlight. “Show me the office.”

It takes him a second to understand what he needs but when he finally gets it he starts to point the flashlight to different parts of the room for Harry to see. After a couple of glances Harry sits down and writes a password. Niall doesn’t even ask when he guesses it right.

Niall sees him looking at the desktop, opening file after file until he finds, apparently, what he’s been looking for: Student Records.

“You are aware that Liam has the friends’ records, right?” he says to Harry when he sees him type the names only to find the same faces they have hanging on their wall.

“Not the ones I want,” Harry answers, printing page after page and making Niall more anxious than he ever thought he could be. And he’s been in war.

“Their first year? Why would you want the record of their first year?” Niall asks, confused.

But Harry can’t answer because he only has time to turn the monitor off and drag Niall under the desk when the door opens. Harry is calm, Niall can see it in his face just a couple of inches apart from his as he tries to control his own breathing. They’re close, too close to be comfortable but the guard is still in the room and his flashlight is searching the office.

Niall can feel Harry breathing on his neck and his hand on his waist keeping him from moving and for once, Niall is pretty grateful for the fact that he was so scared he closed the window after stepping into the office. It’s pretty quiet apart from the guard’s steps as he wanders through the room but Niall can swear the three of them can hear his heartbeat, going faster and faster, especially when Harry starts moving, like he’s trying to stand up. Niall takes his wrist to stop him the exact moment the guard closes the door.

Harry takes the pages and turns the computer off before taking Niall’s hand in his and leaving the Dean’s office.

*

It’s been two days and Liam’s stressed. Niall can understand the reason why. He has father come in every single day, yell at him, throw a few things at the wall, call him inept and then he leaves. That’s not a good environment for any kind of progress, especially if Liam’s board looks even close to as messy as Harry’s wall. The same photos, the same red string and the same interrogation points over faces, places, times and names.

The friends are not saying anything different from their first deposition. The same words and emotions on their faces as they recite the facts over and over again: The girlfriend, Shelly Reagan, found the body at around two in morning, and somehow, managed to not scream or move until Oliver Allister casually walked into the same room and found her holding Dylan’s head in her lap and then he contacted Isaac O’connor and Nina Maccioli, who finally called Audrey Scallo. Anc they did all of that without calling any attention to them. It’s almost like it was rehearsed, but the expression on their eyes when they tell it, when the explain the same details over and over again is not, Niall can see it through the glass, they’re in pain, they’re hurt and they all loved Dylan in their own way.

“Someone is here for the McKlein case, Sir.” A head pops into the office, making Liam turn to the detective’s voice. “A girl saying she’s been seeing Dylan for over three months.”

“He was cheating on her!” Liam immediately stand up and runs to the board with a red marker and circles the girlfriend’s face and connects it to the crime scene. “Everything about the crime scene… it was personal.” His eyes are shining with excitement, feeling like the case is finally being solved.

Liam’s whispering to himself before he picks up a file and follows the detective to the interrogation room. The room is left in silence, no one else moving, just the sound of breathing and maybe Harry’s brain doing his thing if Niall focuses enough. The thing is, he hasn’t said a word since they came into the office and Niall is a bit worried if he has to be honest. He doesn’t know what to expect when it comes to Harry, he never knows what’s he’s going to do or what he’s thinking of, let alone the reason for anything he does. He’s getting used to it, yes, but the feeling that he has to be alert and ready for anything at all times, that stills pretty fresh in the back of his head.

Niall is ready to go after Lestrade and the other detective when he notices Harry’s still sitting on the couch with no intentions of moving, which he finds odd. Harry is not the calm, sitting-in-one-spot kind of guy, not when he has a case between his fingers. But seeing him in that moment...it almost seems like he’s resting, sleeping with his eyes open even.

He hasn’t say much after they came back from the dean’s office and he hasn’t told him about the importance of the records he printed either. It’s not hanging on the wall or written down on notes connecting the dots. It’s just sitting over there on a table, almost like it’s mocking them.

“You don’t want to hear the interrogation?” Niall asks, surprised after hearing nothing but silence from Harry.

“Oh no, Liam is right, he was cheating on her,” he answers, absolutely calm, crossing his legs and placing his hands over his knees. “The girl wasn’t wearing the gold necklace she owns in several pictures shared on social media accounts from the night of the murder. At first I thought she lost it in when she found the body, but apparently she wasn’t wearing it for over two months at that point. She also didn’t dye her hair or get a manicure lately. She doesn’t look like someone who would be that negligent about herself, except when she didn’t see a point to it or even forgot about it because something else was occupying her mind.”

“You knew?” Niall asks in shock. “And you didn’t say anything?”

Is this the reason why they went to the university in the middle of the night? How did he find out? Niall has noticed, he’s not dumb, that Liam technically gives Harry everything that he wants or needs for the investigation. He’s also witnessed him ignore Harry’s insults and disobedience, and the only reason Niall guesses he allows it is because there’s no one else who can do what Harry can.

But keeping this kind of information from him? He’s not that sure anymore Harry deserves Liam’s trust.

“Lestrade doesn’t like my deductions without hard proof,” Harry answers as if he heard Niall’s thoughts. “I prefer to save my patience to explain simple things for you only.”

And there it is, the sarcasm and the satire on his voice, like he physically needs to remind everyone, everywhere that he is the smartest person in the room.  

“Liam is not gonna like this,” Niall says, choosing to ignore Harry’s previous comment.

“Who?” Harry asks, genuinely confused by the expression on his face.

Niall stops to look Harry directly in the eyes, trying to ask questions he doesn’t want Harry to answer out loud.

“Liam?” Niall says in return, pointing at the door where Liam’s name is written. “Lestrade?”

“Don’t you mean Leonard?” Harry answers.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

Harry shrugs and Niall opens his mouth to call him out but by the way he turns his entire body to face the whiteboard again he realizes it may not even matter. If Harry hasn’t learned his name after all those years, how would Niall be able to change that? It’s not that Niall doesn’t think Harry can change or improve, it just seems that no one around him has actual faith in it.

Niall sees Liam walking out of the interrogation room with a pleased expression on his face, looking like he just solved the entire case.

“The girlfriend didn’t do it.”

It’s the first thing Harry says the moment Liam steps into the office, slowly erasing the smile he just had on his face but the moment of sadness is replaced with an expression that Niall’s grown used to seeing on Liam’s face when Harry is involved: tiredness.

“Not right now, Holmes. I have a solid case.” Liam walks pass Harry to his desk and sits, leaving the file in front of him.

“You are better than that, Lestrade,” Harry says, approaching Liam from the other side of the office. “Some random girl saying she had kind of a relationship with McKlein wouldn’t be enough for you to consider a crime of passion.” He rests both of his hands on top of the desk in front of Liam.

Liam leans back, putting his hand on the back of his head and letting all the air inside his lungs out. He truly looks tired and Niall assumes Harry has a lot to do with it.

“How do you explain the letter, then?” Liam asks.

Harry steps backs like he’s counting his steps, slowly and carefully. His hands are somehow still in front of him but now they’re just floating in the air. It’d almost be comical, the way he looks right now, if it wasn’t for the expression on his face, one Niall hasn’t seen before and, going by his reaction, Liam hasn’t either.

“A letter?” He sounds surprised. “What letter?” Harry didn’t see that coming.

*

“She said she found it this morning under her door at the dorms,” Liam says looking at the letter over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry has the protocoled gloves on his hands as he examines the letter. It’s a white and thick paper that’s used for formal letters or invitations. It was written on a typewriter and is dated from three years ago. it doesn’t say much but the message is clear and scared its recipient enough to come through.

May, 2016:

Go to the police. Tell them about Dylan.

-S.

The lab is quiet, mainly due to Harry yelling at the scientists earlier who were working on the small piece of paper before he could get his hands on it. After twenty-five minutes, he had three conclusions.

One.

This comes from someone who knew about the relationship between Jessica Stanley and Dylan McKlein. Someone other than his girlfriend, which Harry is certain about. This person managed to get the note to Jessica without being noticed. They know Jessica’s schedule and location of her dorm room. They also waited a couple of days, maybe realizing Jessica wasn’t going to come out with the truth by herself.

Two.

They didn’t just leave a letter. There was something else attached to the letter according to the light marks left on the back of the paper once the envelope was held against a light source. Harry believes Jessica took it and kept it. Harry also thinks he needs to see it.

And three.

The paper is from 2016. The letter isn’t just dated as 2016 but it was also written three years before the crime actually happened and it was kept to be send just now.

“How could you possibly know that?” Niall questions, putting his hands in his coat pockets trying to battle the cold wind of London.

They left the lab and the station after Harry announced his three conclusions and then walked out of the room without saying anything else to Liam, just waiting for Niall to follow him to start talking. Niall could still hear Liam calling for their names, asking about the conclusions.

“There’s a recognized printing company in downtown London called ‘The House of Caxton’.” Harry stands at the edge of the street with an extended arm, waving his hand to stop a taxi. “They celebrated their 100th anniversary in 2016 by selling a very limited edition of a certain presentation-card type of paper,”

A black cab stops in front of them and Harry opens the door for Niall. He stands still for a couple a second, looking at Harry without knowing exactly how to react so he just laughs and gets in the car, watching Harry do the same until he’s finally sitting next to him.

“So, let me guess,” Niall says, trying to imitate his voice and the tone he always uses when he’s making deductions, like it should be obvious for everyone. “That letter’s paper is part of that package,” he says as he hears the car’s door closing.

“It was in the market for only three months.” Harry looks Niall directly in the eyes, looking directly at his eyes, but he’s not only explaining him a fact, he’s sharing information.

And that’s when it hits him.

Harry trusts him. Definitely more than he trusts Liam or any other detective. He thinks of Niall as an equal, even if he won’t ever admit it. Harry Holmes, this impossible man and unapproachable human sees Niall Watson as a peer even though he’s only known him for a few days. He nods his head at him, almost like reassuring him about his new discoveries, then he turns his head to the driver.

“To Caxton’s printing, please.”

*

Coming back to Baker Street after their failure at the printer was irritating Harry terribly. Niall knows he’s an incredibly smart man, Harry understands the world in a way Niall has never witnessed before, he sees people and streets and interactions as maps and clues, he sees the world as an empty space that only needs his senses to be filled and solved, but when it comes to basic facts like memory cards, Harry can be a little dense.

“How could they not keep the footage?!”

Harry waits till Niall opens the door to storm in, fighting his way out of the coat to hang it in the hallway and then stalk the stairs upstairs.

“It’s been three years, Harry. They delete everything every six months.”

“That makes no sense!” Harry flops down on the couch and covers his face with his hands.

Niall closes the door behind him and sits in the chair next to him. Now is his turn to be patient, to explain things to Harry.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Harry takes his hands off his face to look at him. “. “The chances of us finding the person who bought the package were really low. It could’ve been a gift or something they found and decided to use to throw the police off. We don’t even know if the letter it’s from the killer…”

He was still talking but it takes Harry just one second to stand up and grab Niall’s face on both hands, pulling their faces dangerously close, almost breathing over his lips and then he whispers.

“Oh, but it is, Niall,” he whispers urgently. “It is from them.” He smiles and takes the hair out of Niall’s eyes, slowly, gently and Niall wonders if he’s going to kiss his forehead. “They’re smart. They have planned this for a long time.”

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t kiss Niall or stay like that for another second. Instead, he lets his face go and walks to his room with a red face, leaving Niall and his traitorous heart all alone.

*

The music is loud, the lights bright, and the heat almost unbearable. The place is crowded and they were standing in the entrance, not really sure if they should go in. Niall doesn’t know if he should be here, he hasn’t spoken to his therapist about coming to places like this yet, but to be honest, he hasn’t spoken to his therapist since he met that woman. The flashes and the sounds are making him uncomfortable, like something is crawling down his skin and he’s just getting ready to be jumped.

When Harry said they were going out that night, he never imagined a gay bar. It’s not like he has never been to one before, he just didn’t think Harry has. But then again, Harry doesn’t really talk about his personal life or his preferences, the way he spends his free time.

“Um, Harry?” But he’s already walking into the bar, avoiding to bump into people like an expert, fast and focuses like he has a goal. Niall has no other option but to follow him. When he finally catches up, he sees something he never thought he’d see: Harry, laughing, and charming the bartender, with wrinkles around his eyes and that beautiful big smile on display. He can even see his front teeth.

“Oh, here he is.” Harry smiles at him when Niall arrives and, to Niall’s further surprise, takes his hand on his. “This is Nate, my boyfriend.”

Niall is positive that if he had a drink in his hand, the glass would have hit the floor the moment Harry said those words.

“We’ve been spending some time in Ireland with Nate’s family but we’re finally back home,” Harry laughs and the bartender smile at them, touching both of their arms.

“So everything went okay?” He asks like he’s an old friend of them and Niall has never been more confused.

“Of course! They loved me,” Harry says, looking at Niall. “Didn’t they, pet?”

“Yeah…” Niall says, exhaling the words as he looks deep into Harry’s green eyes. “How could you not love this face?” He finally relaxes and takes Harry’s chin between his finger to shake his face softly.

They share an intense moment of eye contact before Harry clears his throat and turns back to the bartender. “We’ve been trying to get in touch with our friend?” Harry says, recovering from the awkward silence. “Isaac and Dylan? They always tell us about this place.”

Niall tries to maintain a blank face but he’s as surprises as the bartender at Harry’s words.

“I didn’t know they have friends who knew about them,” the man in front of them whispers.

“Not many do.” Harry smiles, intertwining their hands before putting them hands on top of the bar. “But we haven’t talked in a few months and we miss them.”  

“The last thing I know is that they had a huge fight.” The bartender leans over the bar, closer to them to talk lower, like the music in the place wouldn’t keep people from hearing their conversation. “Apparently, Dylan’s girlfriend was getting suspicious about him cheating.”

“Oh, no.” Harry says. “Maybe we’ll go see them at Isaac’s dorm.”

“Wait,” he says, standing up again and growing a few inches. “Why don’t you try calling them?”

“That’s a fantastic idea…” Harry smiles back at him and points to the name written on the label on his chest. “Brian. Thank you.”

He doesn’t have time to reply because Harry is taking them both out of there, dragging Niall through the dance floor and pushing people away. Niall starts to get out of breath and really feel the lack of space and the amount of people around them. He’s not feeling good but it’s almost like Harry knows by the way he’s walking.

It’s when they stand outside the club when Harry lets Niall’s hand go to let him breathe. His head is palpitating and his hand is on his chest, to help him calm down. Niall can see Harry’s shoes in front of him and he wonders if he thinks Niall’s weak. A claustrophobic boy joining the army. But when he feels his hand rubbing his back, he knows he doesn’t.

“Breathe.” he hears him say into his ear, and he does. Slowly and calm as he feels the air cold on his cheeks and the warmth of Harry’s hand on this back.

Harry straightens him up and turns him into the lights of the club’s sign to have a better look at his face.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, returning to his usual tone of voice. His face is void of the smile from earlier and the spark in his eyes. He looks worried.

“How did you know?” Niall asks instead, starting to breathe normally again.

“I knew the moment you walked into 221 B, looking at the windows and the doors. Counting your steps from one room to the other.” He sounds like the mere question offends him. And maybe Niall should’ve known that before.

“And yet, you brought me here,” Niall says, turning his face to the side.

“I needed you.” Harry’s hands are still over his shoulder and his voice is still tender, like he’s afraid Niall’s going to break any second now.

They look at each other, even when Niall tells himself he’s looking at the wall behind Harry and Harry is just looking at the cars passing by or the people walking to the bar. Would it matter to him? If someone sees them there? He doesn’t seem to be the person who cares about what other people say, but somehow this seems different. It’s too personal.

“So…” Niall says, kicking the little rocks by his feet. “Dylan was gay.”

Harry shakes his head, without taking his hands off Niall as if they’re used to have this kind of conversations. “Isaac is. Dylan just comes here with him. I just need to know why.”

Harry catches something behind Niall and he is about to turn his head when Harry’s hands come up to hold his face straight. Harry’s grip tightens as he gets closer, looking Niall straight in the eyes.

“I want you to know I’m doing this because it’s entirely necessary,” Harry says, slowly pushing Niall against the wall to their left.

“I understand, Harry,” Niall says, getting slightly more and more confused.

“It’s what the situation demands. I’m being professional. We’re working right now.” And that’s when Harry stops making sense.

“What?” Niall whispers but the sound is robbed from his lips.

Harry is not being professional; this is not professional. The way he’s kissing him is not the way you kiss a co-worker. The way he has Niall trapped between the wall and his body, almost covering him entirely. The way his hands move from his back to his sides. The way his lips feel on his. Nothing about this is professional. It’s rough and fast. He can feel the tip of his nose on his cheek and his fingertips on the back of his neck, so he does the only thing he can do in this moment. He kisses him back.

He grabs the flaps of his coat and pulls him closer. He has kissed a good amount of girls before, but he has never felt this way and it’s overwhelming. Harry’s body is touching his from knees to chest, his cheeks feel red and hot and his hands seem to be useless right now. And when he opens his mouth and Harry makes that sound, Niall regrets every second they wasted not kissing each other since he walked into that apartment on Baker Street.

Niall doesn’t know how they kiss last after that, but it’s not enough. Harry is breathing heavily against his cheek, his forehead resting against his, and his hand extended on the wall next to his head. Niall has his hands on his hips and he’s trying to bite down the smile growing on his face.

“Isaac,” he whispers on his ear.

“What?” Niall turns his head just a little to catch a glance at Harry’s profile. His lips are open and more red than they regularly are, his eyes are closed and the hand on his waist is not gone.

“He was walking into the club,” he explains and Niall’s hand drop to his sides. “He saw us in Liam’s office. I didn’t-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Niall nods, stepping aside and leaving Harry in the same position he was just a couple of seconds before but now Niall is not between him and the wall anymore. “I remember.” Niall clears his throat. “We should get going.”

*

The Lestrade’s case is going nowhere. Liam tried to charge Shelly but she got a good lawyer who’s slowly breaking Liam’s theory down, exactly how Harry predicted she would. Dylan’s sister went twice more into the station to testify but they found nothing other than circumstantial evidence against the girlfriend and the rest of the friends. On the other hand, Harry’s been busy. Not only trying to avoid Niall but taking everything from his wall, only leaving a single red line pointing to their door.

Niall is standing behind Harry, looking at the empty wall and drinking his morning tea. He has been rejected a couple of times before and he has learned to make peace with the numb feeling in the middle of his chest, even if he has to live with the reason his ears go red and his pulse quickens every time he sees him. Harry’s been trying to keep the conversation level at minimum, which is difficult to him when he has all these ideas he wants to share and be praised for, so Niall laughs every time he struggles and listens like the good friend he knows he is.

It was just a kiss. It doesn’t matter how much it changed him. Harry doesn’t feel the same way, he’s a grown man, he can deal with that.

He’s now putting up the photos of the friends again, but this time one by one, some pictures next to the other two letters that were sent a few weeks ago to Liam’s office.

The situation was perfect for Harry. He had an excuse to spend entire days in the lab only to examined the letter, finding no DNA or anything that could be helpful in any way to find the killer. Harry is getting frustrated, not only because of the letter but, apparently, all of them, the five friends, had a reason to kill Dylan McKlein. His entire life was falling apart the last two weeks before his murder: Shelly found out about his affair, he didn’t get the money he promised to Oliver for his mum’s surgery, he took Nina’s opportunity of having her dream job thanks to his father’s connections, he threatened to expose Isaac sexuality to the football team and his family and he almost destroyed Audrey’s career.

All problems which were all solved after he died.

“Is it a timeline?” Niall asks, finishing his toast and taking the last sip of his tea.

Harry nods while hanging more papers on the wall until he gets to the day of the murder.

“That’s why you needed the student records,” he says, more to himself than to Harry. “Is that the time each one of them met Dylan?” Niall points at the pictures in order and Harry nods again.

“There’s something I’m not seeing.” Harry backs up and stands next to Niall and that’s the closer they’ve been in three weeks.

“Like a hidden message?” Niall asks and Harry once more. “Something like the dates in the letters or how it’s always signed with a different initial?”

Everything stops until it all starts working again. Harry’s eyes open wide and he runs to the desk for a paper and a pen.

“The names and the dates,” Harry says, frantically writing on the paper. “How couldn’t I see it before?!” he takes a red marker and circles the first letter of every name: Shelly, Oliver, Nina, Isaac and Audrey, according to Harry’s timeline.

He throws away the red marker and find a blue one and then, he does the same thing with the last names.

When he’s done, one name is written in Harry’s paper.

Sonia Morales.

Every initial of every name and every initial of every last name lined up in front of them.

“Sonia Morales?” Niall repeats. “Is that a suspect?”

“I’ve heard that name before.”

Harry freezes for a second, thinking. The next thing he does is smile, so big it brings Niall back to the day at the bar, just like the kiss Harry plants on his lips before he’s disappearing through the door.

“You are a genius, Niall!” He can hear Harry’s reached the bottom floor already as he’s still frozen on the same spot Harry kissed him a few moments ago. “Call Lestrade! Tell him we solved the case!”

The door opens and the noise of London invades their apartment.

“Tell him we will be needing a helicopter, too!” Harry says and Niall can almost hear him smile, “The game is on.” And then, he closes the door.

*

The noise coming from the motor blade is loud but Harry is yelling over it and trying his best to explain his deductions to both Liam and Niall sitting in front of him before they get to some town, with a name he can’t be bothered to remember, forty-five minutes from London.

Harry told Niall he read about this case, but he was in a bad place at that time and wouldn’t have been of much help. Niall is itching to ask about it, but now wasn’t the time

Sonia Morales was a Brazilian nineteen-year-old golfer. She was found in a lake six years ago and according to the necropsy she suffered from sexual assault and then suffocation which ultimately killed her. It made it to the news because some kids found her one morning and they thought she was a ghost due to the white dress she was wearing as well as her long black hair. She had not family or friends in the country other than her manager since she came to London that summer to compete in a golf tournament and find herself some sponsors. And she did, at the Club Gala the last night of the tournament: The McKleins.

The body was too wet and wrinkled to find out the exact date of her death or any DNA from her killer.

“You think Dylan abused her and killed her?” Niall screams through the intercom. “At what? 17?”

“And someone saw it,” Harry nods. “And they died for it.”

The helicopter lands on the golf course and Harry runs to the cabin near the seventh hole with Liam and Niall at his side and a bunch of policemen following behind them, but when Liam takes down the door all they find is a body lying on a chair with a bullet hole on his head, holding a bloody golf club in one hand and a gun in the other.

“That’s Sonia’s father,” Liam says behind them, putting back his gun into its holster.

Niall knew the wounds in Dylan’s head would match the end of the golf club, he had studied those photographs enough to be able to draw them himself. When they get back, they find Dylan’s family in Liam’s office. They all stand up the moment the three of them walk in. Both women have red eyes again, evidence that they’ve been crying, and Gregory McKlein walks up to Harry, extending his hand him. “You said you’ll catch his killer. Thank you.” Harry takes his hand and shakes it.

“You said you’ll catch his killer.” Harry extended his hand and shake it. “Thank you.”

“I caught more than that,” Harry says, putting his hand back into his pocket. He walks over to the window and sighs. “Does the name ‘Sonia Morales’ ring a bell to you?” Harry turns to look at them and Niall can see how the couple turns to each other, physically jumping.

“No,” he says, firmly.

“Let me refresh your memory then,” Harry smiles. “She was the last golfer you were going to sponsor before you moved to London, but you found your son abusing her and trying to shut her up with a pillow over her head until she wasn’t breathing anymore.” The room fell silent as Gregory gaped at Harry.

“What the fucking are you saying?!” He screams directly at Harry’s face.

“But you weren’t the first people to find him, were you?” Harry stands, proudly in front of him with Liam behind him, fearless. “It was your sister and her husband. Is that not right, Mrs. McKlein? You see, the same night Sonia was murdered, a car accident happened near the Golf Club. A couple died that night, the car fell off a cliff but their daughter survived.”

The woman walks to them, elegant and determined, with fire in her eyes and rage in her hands as she points her finger at Harry’s chest.

“Are you making fun of our pain?” she whispers, looking at Harry’s eyes. “Do you find this entertaining?”

“No,” he says and turns to look at Leyla McKlein. “But she does.”

They all stare at her. She’s standing there with a blank expression on her face, her hands behind her back and suddenly, she looks so much older than a minute ago.

“You forgot one witness.” Harry walks past them and approaches Leyla but she doesn’t move, she doesn’t speak, she doesn’t even flinch. “So when you walked in and saw what was happening you tried to talk to your sister and her husband, but they weren’t listening. I imagine they were already calling the police and leaving to get in their car.”

Doris McKlein in now behind her husband and they’re looking at Harry the same way they all look at him at the end of the day: with hatred in their eyes.

“Then the fatal accident happened, but when Leyla didn’t die, you decided to adopt her. You changed her name, took care of her and even loved her like your own,” Harry finishes, looking at Liam and nodding. “But it doesn’t matter how far you run, the past will always catch up.”

This is when Liam steps up. “You’re under arrest for the murder on Alice and Brenan Addley.”

Another two officers enter Liam’s room and handcuff the McKleins, taking them out as they yell about nonsense and lack of proof, how Harry’s over just like Liam’s career. Leyla McKlein is taken out of the office too, but to the interrogation room instead with Liam following close behind.

Niall breathes out all the air he didn’t know he was holding since this case started. He presses the button to call the lift and they wait, nodding at people who talk to them about one thing or the other until the door opens and they can finally leave.  It’s raining when they step out of Scotland Yard and they wait for a cab to stop in front of them.

“No one is going to buy it.” Niall says, looking at Harry’s profile as he turns to him just for a second. “The father and the sister doing this alone,” he says, moving his hand around like he’s trying to explain the situation, but the truth is, he has other thing in his mind. They need to talk about the kisses. “The names? The letter? All this time waiting?”

“Or maybe someone else did all the work.” Harry turns to him, slightly looking down at him. “Maybe they just waited and tipped them off. I don’t doubt she is smart,” Harry explains, “because she is. But to execute something at this range.” He shakes his head, looking in front of him as he has the answers in display, it’s just going too fast to see it clearly now. “They had to have help, from someone with contacts and power.”

Niall frowns and looks up at Liam’s office where he should be questioning Leyla McKlein. Who was Harry talking about? Someone that would guide two broken people to do something this atrocious? What kind of person is that? How do you find them?

“Are you gonna tell Liam?” He asks.

“Not now,” Harry says, frowning. “Not until I know who is behind all this.”

Niall is about to reply when he sees a familiar black car park in front of them and then, a red umbrella stepping out of the vehicle. The woman he saw a little more than a month ago is walking towards them dressed in a black dress, wearing a perfectly clean white coat and red heels, matching the color on her lips. She’s looking at Harry with a smile on her face but Harry is still talking to him, paying her no attention, making Niall’s heart beat even faster. Is he in danger?

“Harry,” Niall says under his breath, pulling on his coat sleeve.

“If you’re questioning my moral compass just now, Niall, I’m sorry to tell you-”

“That’s the woman!” Niall says louder, making Harry turn at the same time she stops in front of him, holding her red umbrella and taking off her sunglasses.

“Afternoon, Sherlock.”

Harry gives her a look, from head to toe. He’s not afraid of her, he almost looks… bored. He takes a couple of steps further but Niall stops him, pulling him by the sleeve again. They don’t know if she has people with her right now.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, sounding irritated as he shakes Niall off and goes to stand in front of her.

“As ever, I’m concerned about you.” She closes her umbrella when she’s under the roof with the two of them, using the umbrella as a walking stick.

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing about your concern,” he says between his teeth and Niall looks away. The woman laughs and gives Niall a smile.

“Always so aggressive,” she says as she clears his coat from non-existent dust, fixing up the collar of his shirt, like she knows he likes to wear it that way. “Never occurred to you that you and I belong on the same side?”

Harry laughs, stridently, catching the attention of almost everyone around them. “Oddly enough, no.”

She lets go of his clothes goes and starts walking around them, looking at the building and the people going in and out, looking and the police cars and hearing the sirens. She breathes it all in, but she’s not intimidated. She acts like she owns the place, like she’s been here hundreds of times before, like she’s the one who calls the shots.

“We have more in common than you’d like to believe.” She walks behind them, making the umbrella tap the floor with every step she takes, putting that sound in the back of Niall’s mind. “This petty feud between us is simply childish.” and now she sounds irritated. She’s mad. “People will suffer,” she snarls and Niall wonders if he’s the only one listening to this conversation, “and you know how it always upsets mummy.”

What?

Niall frowns and looks at her and then at Harry. Their expressions haven’t changed at all. They’re still standing back to back, extremely dramatic as the raindrops hit the floor and people’s steps are the only sound that can compete with the water hitting.

“I upset her?” Harry turns to face her. “Me?!” He’s screaming now but she doesn’t react at all. All she does is cross her arms and look at him like it’s not the first time she has dealt with this. “It wasn’t me that upset her, Mycroft!”

“No, no,” Niall says, shaking his head as he gets closer to them. “Wait.” He lifts his finger, pointing at both of their faces and taking one second to think. “Mummy? Who is mummy?”

“Mother,” Harry answer, as if it that was obvious. “Our mother.” He points to himself and then to the woman in front of him. “This is my sister, Gemma. But she goes by Mycroft. Also putting on weight again as far as I can see.”

“Losing it, in fact.” She smiles back with murder written in her eyes, ignoring Niall completely.

“She’s your sister?” Niall whispers to Harry, his eyes wide open and his hand on Harry’s arm.

“Of course she’s my sister.” Harry frowns at Niall and he can see it now, the resemblance.

The shape of the face, the nose and even the lips if he pays enough attention. Her eyes are green, just like Harry’s, just a bit darker but he can see fire within them. The way she moves, the way she smiles and the way she talks like she knows everything and anything about everyone. Yeah, he can see it now.

“She’s not…?” Niall says but stops immediately. It sounds so ridiculous now.

“Not what?” Harry asks, leaning his head to the side.

“I don’t know…” Niall lets Harry’s arm go as he slowly turns to look at the woman next to him, Harry’s sister, Gemma Holmes, apparently. “A criminal mastermind?”

Harry smiles, nodding as he looks at Gemma. “Well, almost.”

“For goodness sake!” she screams out, stomping her foot on the floor and turning her hands into fists. “I occupy a minor position in the British Government.”

“She is the British Government.” Harry ignores his sister as he talks to Niall directly. “When she’s not too busy being the British Secret Service, or the CIA on a freelance basis. Let’s go, John,” he says if Gemma didn’t already know his name. “Good evening, Gemma. Try not to start a war before I get home, you know what it does to the traffic.” And then he’s off to call a cab with an extended arm.

“So,” she says. Niall doesn’t need to see her face to know what she’s about to ask, he understands now. “You’ll stay.” He nods and puts his hands in his pockets. He has decided he wants to make Harry suffer a little longer for not telling him the scary woman was his sister.

“Did you bring me a car?!” Harry yells from the other side of the street.

“Why would I bring you a car?!” Gemma yells back. “Buy your own one.”

And that’s when Niall laughs. He starts walking towards Harry when Gemma opens her umbrella and catches up with him.

“Dr. Watson?” Niall looks at her in surprised. After this last couple of months, his own name sound strange. “Take care of him.”

And then she’s gone. She gets into the black car and disappears in the middle of the rain. Niall goes to Harry and stands next to him. He whistles, making two cars stop in front of them. He walks to the nearest one and opens the door for him.

“You should have done that sooner,” Harry says as he steps inside. “Our lives are quite busy, Watson.”

Niall smiles, looking down at the floor as he closes the cab’s door behind him.

“To Baker Street.”

[straight-outta-hobbiton]

WARNING: UMBRELLA ACADEMY SPOILERS

So I just need everyone to know that I finished Umbrella Academy about three hours ago. I adored it, of course, especially Robert Sheehan, of course. I like the changes they made, too— people will bitch about purity, but except for the fact that they cut Klaus’ amazingly ridiculous save at the end of the first arc (which I understand even if I don’t like, since they seem to be combining both story arcs into one continuous festival of chaos), most of the changes they made are the sorts of things that help a comic come to life. The comic series is short, so we get minimal fleshing out of characters. The changes they made help that.

With that general bit out of the way, I’ve just gotta say— fleshing out Klaus’ time in Vietnam and giving him the chance to show that he’s suffering in the aftermath was amazing. I was pumped for the idea of catching a glimpse of the baby, but instead they gave him a boyfriend, which just answered all my fanfiction dreams. Out of all of them, I’m really starting to think he might be the one best equipped to handle relationships.

He clearly had a close relationship with the Horror, since he stuck around, and out of all the different romantic relationships we see (Luther/Allison, Diego/Patch, Vanya/Leonard, Five/Delores), he’s the only one who doesn’t have any crazy side shit fucking it up? I mean there’s the war, yes, but it’s decidedly different from Allison telling Luther a rumor, or Delores’ being a mannequin, or that weird dance Diego and Patch were doing— you know, the one that deserves a ten season spinoff series that goes downhill the moment they actually get together?

We see Klaus’ relationship with Dave summed up in like, fifteen minutes. The war is treated as a backdrop to their romance, which is instead shown to be built on Dave being a guy who recognizes a scared newbie in a warzone. Klaus’ superpowers mean nothing in the face of a nice guy who, in the three scenes we saw him in, was nothing but gentle and kind towards Klaus. In fact, the only time Klaus’ powers come up regarding Dave is as a way to continue connecting with him— he’s the only person whose powers don’t get in the way of his ability to connect with people. It only enhances it.

I mean, I know it’s a kill your gays trope, but shit, at least Klaus has the possibility of a future with Dave. His powers are getting stronger— he’s physically able to manifest spirits, now, to the point that others can see them. All he needs is a calm minute to himself, and he has the love of his life until the day he can finally join him.

I don’t know. I have more analysis for Klaus, but I just can’t get over their kiss. It was just so soft and sweet and intimate, man. You can just tell Klaus has never had anything like that.

[milliondollarhoe]

(EDITED)How Koi To Uso Pairings May End *just my opinion* *contains spoilers from the manga*

BEFORE I BEGIN I JUST WANT TO SAY THAT I FUCKEN LOVE AND ADORE MY BABY BOY NISAKA THE PRECIOUS HUMAN AND I WANT HIM TO HAVE A GOOD ENDING. BUT THIS IS WHAT I THINK IS GONNA HAPPEN.

So if you guys have read the manga and have catched up with the Nisaka arc you guys might have noticed a thing. When the government dude comes to talk to Nisaka and confronts him about his sexuality and explains him that there can be measures take if he wanted a same sex partner. But as you can see, his response to that is "please let me think about it." And also I would like to point one more thing, Nisaka might be Bisexual, yeah listen to me, He might have felt gross with the girl or girls in general due to the fact that everyone just clung on him and his ex just forced him to have sex with him just because she wanted to do it before her government notice. Gay, bi or straight, anyone would feel grossed out in that situation itself. When the government dude asks him if he is gay, Nisaka does not reply, and the dude says it's because some data and the survey HINTED that he was "homosexual". Homosexual is sort of an umbrella term if you go to see because even Bisexuals and Pansexuals can fall in love with same sex. So it is actually still not clarified what exactly is Nisaka's sexuality and you can't just guess on the basis of him being so in love with Neji or Him having a boyfriend previously.

Now going further back let's take the scene where Nisaka goes home and he is tensed and when he reaches home his family wishes him Happy Birthday. And you can clearly see the expression on his face he is legit not delighted about the fact that it's his birthday, why? If we take what the government dude told him that he has to wait till the age of 18 if he wants to have same sex partner then why exactly was he not happy? Because*I think* he did not accept that proposal because he is so in love with Neji.

And it is also shown how Neji starts to have feelings for Ririna and Vice versa, it's just Neji hasn't accepted it still thinking he loves Misaki and Ririna accepted her feelings and just hasn't confessed yet.

On the other hand let's go to Misaki. It is clearly shown that Misaki has started to get the idea that Neji has, even a bit, feelings for Ririna and Vice versa. And as it is shown she even though she desperately does love Neji alot, She wants him to only end up with Ririna. Because she has accepted the fact that not only do they both love each other and haven't realized it, but also the fact that a love marriage would cause a lot of problems. And so she says that she'll accept the arranged marriage proposal no matter how much she loves Neji and Neji being the only one in her heart.

Now let's get to some scenes where four of them are shown sitting face to face, where Neji and Nisaka on one side and Misaki and Ririna on the other. It is always or most of the time, Neji and Ririna sitting face to face and Nisaka and Misaki sitting face to face.

It's sort of obvious (unless the mangaka decides some plot twist all of sudden) that Ririna and Neji will end up together because their romance was shown sprouting through out the manga while Neji and Misaki's romance had already began and was fading a bit by bit as the manga developed. While on the other hand the manga shows only Nisaka's pov on his love (that to in past tense as he is saying how exactly he fell in love) since it's pretty obvious that it is one sided(unless mangaka decides to make Neji Bisexual) and here it goes; Nisaka and Misaki might get married/ might be each other's arranged partners. There are a lot of moments tbh with them, not romantic but if you notice Nisaka has more screentime(in manga) with Misaki than he has with Neji. Also the Romeo and Juliet arc. Like the mangaka could've have literally taken Neji and Misaki which would've have intensified their romance scenes but nooooooo they go with making Nisaka and Misaki do the play. This might be sort of a hint about what would further happen in the manga. And also it is clearly shown that both of them know each other's situation.

Koi to Uso's main plot is about forbidden love and both Misaki and Nisaka portray different forms of forbidden love.

In the Japanese translation of this panel, Nisaka is described as Koi, Ririna as Ai and Misaki as Uso.

Koi and Ai have do roughly mean the same that is love but they both are different with Koi being physical/intimate love and Ai means Real love.

So if the Title is Koi to Uso which translates to "Love AND Lies" then does it mean that the whole main plot actually revolves around Nisaka and Misaki? Who knows anyway this is just my opinion let's see what mangaka does in the further chapters.

As a Bisexual myself, I would really love to see Nisaka as Bisexual because there aren't much mangas that represents Bisexuality and it would also clear off the fact that not all LGBT characters (unless if they're gay or lesbian) have to end up with same sex partner.

[varietyofwords]

Addendum, Part Twenty-Five (Chicago P.D.)

Title: Addendum

Chapter: Coming and Going (Part Twenty-Five)

Fandom: Chicago P.D.

Rating: T/PG-13

Author’s Note: This chapter is set directly before the first scene with Erin and Jay in bed in “The Silos” (4x01), and it is an attempt to bridge the gap between the two seasons. I thought Erin’s headspace about Hank going into the fourth season was pretty clear, and I was intrigued by the way she was and wasn’t leaning on Jay (i.e. inviting him over to her place to sleep, presumably telling him that she was meeting with Crowley given their “How’d it go?” conversation yet keeping him handcuffed on how to help her). So I decided to explore how much Jay might have known about where Erin went after she hung up on him, how he felt about the traps being sprung for her and Voight by Crowley, and how might have come to decide that moving in together was the best solution for what she was going through.

Before the chapter begins, though, I wanted to offer a huge thank you to those of you who stuck with this story after I took a year long hiatus from writing it and those who picked it up in the last few months . I’d love to hear any final feedback on this story that you may have.

The relentless rain beats against the windshield; a torrential downpour rather than a pitter-patter that has turned the streets into rivers and cleared the sidewalks around the city as people seek refuge inside their homes. Occasionally, a lone individual with the lapels of their trench coat pulled up to their ears or a couple huddled under a shared umbrella hurry past his parked car, past the Mom and Pop stores flipping over to chain coffee shops and clothing retailers thanks to the shiny, new high-rise forming above.

But, for the most part, the sidewalk remains deserted, and he only has to give each person a passing glance to ascertain if they’re waiting for him or not. Waiting to show off the high-rise building looming over the street, to talk square footage and amenities with him.  

The spec sheet the realtor sent over two nights ago is pulled up on his phone, and he glances down at it. Lets his eyes skim over words about how the place has two bedrooms and underground parking and access to a gym as he tries to figure out what she would say about the place. If she would be willing to overlook the lack of  “real” Chicago character for a place where she doesn’t have to shovel out her car in the morning or wake up early to get across town to Antonio’s.

Yet the early hours haven’t seem to affect her over the last few days. He’s awoken twice now to the feeling of her slipping out of his bed and once to the sound of the front door of her apartment clicking shut behind her. Spent three nights wondering how she is and what she’s up to until the wee hours of the morning when she didn’t answer her phone, and two other nights when she did answer her phone, when she showed up at his place or told him to come over feeling like she’d rather he go.

Feeling like she’d rather he leave her alone as he reclines on her couch beside her nursing a beer and not talking about Justin. As he sits across the bullpen from her and doesn’t acknowledge that the photographs and notes pulled from the unit’s whiteboard and handed over to Commander Crowley are just a bunch of dead ends now. As he slips under the sheets beside her and doesn’t ask about the ball of wet clothes left in the corner of her bedroom.

At least, this place -- with its gentrifying neighborhood and ubiquitous appearance -- has a washer and dryer in a unit. Offers him the chance to lander those clothes, to remove the reminders of where she went when he told her that Voight wasn’t at the house with him or the rest of the unit without it becoming obvious what he’s doing. Without implicating what he knows -- or, at least, thinks he knows -- about the hour and a half gap between his phone call to her and the 300 arriving back in the District’s parking lot by doing a load of laundry at her place instead of his own.

By completing a silent yet physical omission that he thinks there is something to that pile beyond those being the clothes she was wearing when she and Voight found Justin. That the evidence Crowley is going to be looking for when the team she has assigned to Justin’s case finds only dead ends in the folders and evidence boxes he and Dawson handed over is actually laying in the corner of Erin’s bedroom.

The thought causes him to sigh, causes the knot in his stomach that has been there since he heard her voice over the radio calling out for an ambulance to tighten because this played out in both a way he expected  -- with Voight possibly getting a moment alone with their main suspect -- and a way he didn’t with her possibly getting snagged up while the rest of the team was offered plausible deniability.

Possibly because he doesn’t know. Only has theories and suspicious and three years of knowing what Voight meants to her. That Voight, in Erin’s eyes, is the reason why she’s here today. Why he has gotten to know her rather than her becoming an unknown face in a file cabinet of unsolved homicides and overdoses.

But Jay also knows that he -- with his decision to drive rather than ride shotgun beside her, with his phone call to her rather than directly to Voight -- helped the hunt for who killed Justin Voight play out in a way that might have ensnared her. And he can’t stand the idea of of the traps that are bound to set for Voight pulling her down another hole, of watching her come and go out of his apartment and his life -- inside and outside of work -- because of what he did and what he hasn’t managed to do since.

And, so, he is here on a rainy Tuesday night waiting to check out an apartment that he hopes she’ll like, that she’ll maybe want to spend more than a few hours at with him. That will maybe feel like home, like a place that can keep her grounded through the loss of the guy who was like her brother and the home that Voight offered her.

Except he’s pretty sure she’s not going to like this place. Can already hear her incredulous voice about how he’ll need to pick up multiple Violence Reduction shifts and pull in extra overtime in order to afford a small latte at the residents-only coffee lounge the spec sheet boosts about. Can already hear her knowing hum and see her suggestive smirk in response to him saying that he’d only drink the stuff in the breakroom, if it meant getting a place with one of those waterfall showerheads and a jetted tub.

He thought the place he emailed her about this morning -- the condo located on the second floor of a brownstone -- would catch her eye. Would, at least, warrant a text back or an acknowledgement as she came and went out of the District today while the rest of the team pushed paper and kept their mouths shut and their eyes averted from the elephant in the room. But she hadn’t said anything, and he hadn’t been able to find a moment in the breakroom after awakening to an empty bed for the second night in a row to ask her about it. To tell her about his appointment to see this place tonight.

So the headlights shining into his rear windshield from the car pulling up behind him aren’t from her sedan, and the woman with the light brown hair who steps out of the vehicle and hurries over to stand under the flat, metal awning over the entrance of the high-rise condominium isn’t her. And Jay takes a moment to squint through the heavy rainfall to watch her, to double check her identity before pushing open the driver’s side door of his car. Slips his cell phone and his keys into the front pockets of his jeans as he hurries through the rain to meet her.

“Mr. Halstead?” The woman calls out as he comes towards her, as she thrusts her hand out for him to shake. And he grasps it with a nod of his head as she introduces herself as Sarah Murphy, the realtor working with the developer of this site.

“Will it just be you tonight?” Sarah inquires, although the unspoken addition to her question is evident in the way she glances at his left hand. And the question causes him to pause for a moment because somehow his search for a place to call his own, to put down roots had become a search done with her -- her opinion, her presence -- in mind, but she had gone from the District this evening and hadn’t come with him. Hadn’t returned his text inquiring what she was up to or if she wanted to grab dinner; hadn’t really talked to him since the night she showed up at his place after shrugging off his attention and being noncommittal about whether or not he’d see her later that night at Justin’s funeral.

“Yeah, uh, my girlfriend couldn’t make it,” he says telling himself that it’s not entirely a lie. That if this was a normal week, she would have been here to offer her opinions on what is too intimate and too ridiculous for a place that he’ll call home for, at least, the lifespan of his mortgage.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Sarah counters glancing up at the sky and the steady rain before returning her gaze back to him. “I’d be happy set up another time for her to come see it. Perhaps when the weather is better so she can really see the view.”

“Yeah,” Jay replies soft because maybe the weather will get better. Maybe the dark cloud hanging over her life will dissipate and he’ll figured out how to help her get through this beyond trying to distract her with real estate listings and showing up when and where she wants him to. But, right now, the storm is still raging, and he has no idea where she’s at.

So, instead, he stands alone outside of a high-rise apartment building listening to the relator tell him about the security system installed throughout the building as she fishes out a badge from her purse. About how residents can get in twenty-four/seven with a plastic badge and visitors can be let in by the front desk when it's staffed from nine to five.

And Jay keeps his mouth shut about how he’s seen the system she’s bragging about in more than one burglary-homicide during his years on the force. Tries not to give away how much more he likes the fresh paint and clean lines of this place over the linoleum and rusty mailboxes in the entryway of his apartment building as he follows her through the lobby to the elevator.

“So the unit we’ll be seeing has two bedrooms,” the realtor reminds him as they step into the elevator and she pushes the button for the eleventh floor. The doors shut behind them without the horrific clanking noise that comes from the elevator at his place on the rare occasion that it’s actually working, and Jay jams his hands in the pockets of his black coat as Sarah points to the button for the fourth floor explaining that they’ll stop and check out the gym and club lounge after seeing the unit.

“Gym access is included, right?” Jay questions, and the realtor launches into a list of what is and isn’t included in the purchase price and the condo’s co-op fees -- unlimited gym access for homeowners is included while more than two coffees a month at the club and day passes for guests aren’t -- as the elevator inches closer and closer to the eleventh floor.

“Uh, washer and dryer in unit,” Sarah informs him when they reach the eleventh floor, when she fumbles with the keys to unlock the front door of unit number eleven-oh-four. And she steps aside when she finally unlocks the door, gestures for him to step into the apartment first, offers him the first look at the hardwood floors running from the front door through the open-concept living room and kitchen to the wall of windows on the other side. The wall of windows that look a lot like the ones at Erin’s.

And that realization causes him the smile because maybe he can turn these windows and their view of a stormy sky instead of the brick wall of the apartment across the street into a selling point for her. Can maybe finally end her complaints that his current place with its small windows and close proximity to another building is like living inside a tomb.

“All appliances are included,” Sarah announces dragging his attention away from the wall of windows towards the kitchen with its gleaming white cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. It is about three times the size of his current kitchen -- bigger than Erin’s, too -- and he can’t help but imagine how much easier it would be to cook them dinner now and then without having to step around her. Can’t help but feel a little crestfallen at her not touching him -- eyes sparkling and mouth smirking in such a way that they give her feigned innocence -- under the excuse of cramped spaces.

And he turns on his heels to look at the rest of the space; his eyes settling on the large, blank walls running the length of the room. There’s no fireplace, but there’s plenty of room for a sixty-inch plasma TV mounted to the wall and storage space in the second bedroom for all the blankets she has insisted on needing at his current, fireplace-less apartment.

“Unit comes with one spot in the underground parking garage,” Sarah informs him, and he pauses for a second as he moves towards the hallway leading off from the right of the kitchen. As he realizes that someone will still end up circling the block looking for parking and digging their car out when the city turns into Chiberia, that those loops around the block and attempts to dislodge the car from a snowbank will be the only times he gets to drive.

“But,” the relator jumps in when she catches the look on his face, “a second one can be allocated to the unit with a little negot--”

The caveat is interrupted by the crash of thunder and lighting outside, by the trilling sound of Jay’s phone ringing in his pocket. A sound that causes the knot in his stomach to tighten and then sends his hand scrambling into the pocket of his jeans. A sound that causes him to throw the relator an apologetic look and then furrow his brows as he sees her name written across the screen.

“Hey,” he greets after clicking the green button on screen and raising the phone to his ear. Jay’s voice sounds rough, panicked. Nothing like the flat, monotone voice that greets him on the other end of the line. But there’s an edge to it -- an edge he hasn’t been able to figure out, an edge he hasn’t been able to decide if he wants to fall over -- as she asks if he can come over to her place.

And he doesn’t hesitate to say that he’ll be right over. Offers an apology to Sarah about needing to go and barely notices the way she panics over losing out on a commission as he leads them both to the elevator. Barely absorbs her sputtered words about how he hasn’t checked out the bedrooms or the bathroom or the resident’s club on the fourth floor as they ride down to ground level in the elevator. Barely notices the rain falling overhead as he promises to be in touch about the place and jobs over to his car.

The high-rise is further from her place than his current apartment, and he arrives outfront to find dark windows and not a single light on in her apartment. At least, none visible from the street. But the phone his tossed on his passenger seat is lit up with a text informing him that she left the front door unlocked for him, and he climbs three flights of stairs to find that to be true. Pokes his head into the darkened apartment and calls out her name because only idiots sneak into apartments and homes owned by cops.

“In the bedroom,” she calls out in a gravelly voice from the bedroom and only then -- with the sound of her voice, with the reminder that she really wants him her -- does the knot in his stomach loosen and his shoulders relax. He takes just a moment to slip off his coat and boots, to add the coat to the hooks by the door and straighten the jumbled mess of shoes by the door, to lock the door behind him.

Only then does he pad through the dark apartment to her bedroom, round around the corner to find her laying in bed with the covers pulled up and her back towards him. And as his eyes adjust to the low-light conditions, his gaze drifts from her to the corner of her bedroom, to the spot where her wet clothes from that night lay.

Laid, it turns out. Because, now, the pile is gone. The last remnant of it -- her green trench coat -- is wrapped in the plastic the dry cleaner sent it home in and draped over the chair to his left. The sight causes him to pause long enough that Erin seems to notice, that she rolls over on her back and stares at him with eyes that seem to both challenge him to ask and beg him not to.

And another long pause follows as he tries to decide what to say or what to do, but the decision is made for him by her reaching out to pull back the covers, by her silently asking him to lay down beside her. A request he answers by yanking his damp t-shirt over his head and dropping it onto the floor where her wet clothes used to sit, by fumbling with his belt and sliding his jeans and his socks off so he slips into bed beside her with nothing by a pair of boxers on.

And unlike the last few days when she’s come and gone, when she’s pulled away from him, she rolls into his grasp, curls her body up against his, and places her head in the crook between his arm and his torso. Lets one -- no, two -- hot tears fall down her cheeks and onto his chest as his arm wraps around her, as his thumb traces patterns on the soft bit of skin peeking out from between the hem of her off-white t-shirt.

“Crowley wants to see me tomorrow,” she informs him, and the confession causes his hand to still because he knows what that means. Knows that the cloud of suspicion hanging over their unit right now is narrowing over her, that someone outside the unit has finally noticed the gap in her and Voight and the rest of the unit’s timelines and whereabouts.

“Erin,” he starts, but she cuts him off. Handcuffs him and all his possible reactions by pressing her face further into the crook between his arm and his torso and telling him that she doesn’t want to talk about it. That she just wants to lay her with her boyfriend.

And he agrees because she asked him to come here, because her arm is tightening around his chest as though she needs an anchor right now and he wants to be that for her. Wants to help keep her head above water as she tries to work through her loss and keep her and her career on solid footing as the Ivory Tower starts picking up on rumors and hearsay and unspoken understandings of what happens when a cop’s son is killed.

When Hank Voight’s son is killed.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, she’ll pull away from him. She’ll end up on her side of the bed and he’ll end up on his. Close enough physically that she’ll smack him with the back of her hand when her nightmare wakes him up; far enough mentally and emotionally that she’ll brush off his concern and run out the door. But, right now, she’s not coming and going, and twelve hours of stability, of laying in bed beside her as her boyfriend has to be good enough.

For now.

[diyarlight]

Broken souls mend together

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Prompt: Set after season 6, ep 18 “Lauren.” The reader was roommates with Emily, and goes to Spencer for comfort. Inspired from the scene where Reid had admitted of thinking of taking drugs again to JJ after Emily comes back in season 7, ep 2. 

credits to the amazing poster @hotchnerfuckmeup

Part 2 

Spencer stared at the syringe and the small bottle that he placed on the top of the sink. He looked back at the mirror, staring at his own haunted expression and red eyes. He could do it right now and no one would bother him. It wouldn't hurt this much anymore.

But Emily would be so disappointed.

He shut his eyes closed as he swallowed the cry that was lounged in his throat. It's been five weeks since Emily died, and it still hurt to even think about her. The guilt of not doing enough and the crushing pain he would feel whenever he saw the empty desk beside him was enough to plunge the needle into his arm. He just didn't want to feel anymore, and he wanted this pain to go away. If he couldn't save Emily, then who could he save?

The doorbell ringing snapped him out of his thoughts and panic bubbled inside his stomach. He quickly shoved the syringe and bottles into the cupboard, looked at himself to make sure that nothing was wrong before he could see who the guest was. He quickly crossed the rooms to open the door, and his breath hitched when he saw who it was.

It was Y/N.

She was drenched, and Spencer didn't even realize that it was raining outside. His heart clenched when he saw the red eyes and haunted face, and he blinked rapidly to hide his own tears. "Hey," She said, giving him a tired smile. "Were you sleeping?”

He shook his heads and stepped aside to let her in as he took in her hunched form. "You're drenched," he said and wanted to slap his forehead because what a great question genius.

"I was just walking around," She answered, her voice scratchy. "It suddenly started to rain and I didn't have an umbrella."

"You were walking around? At this time?" He said, his voice a bit louder than usual. It was past midnight, and you would think that she would be more careful considering what they see at their jobs.

"It's better than staying at home," She whispered, and immediately Spencer felt bad for raising his voice.

Y/N had joined the team just after Rossi and immediately connected with Emily first before him. Y/N couldn't find a steady place to stay so Emily offered her apartment and the two quickly became best friends and roommate. So for Y/N to be in a place where she spent so much time with Emily must be hard.

"I am sorry," He whispered. “Come in, I’ll get you some clothes for you to change."

"No Spence it's-"

"You'll get sick. Please," He said, and Y/N reluctantly nodded her head. He went to his room and got out with some of his old clothes. With a grateful smile, she took it and headed towards the bathroom. He strode to the kitchen and put the kettle on, knowing she preferred tea over coffee. He started the coffee machine and rubbed his face to keep the tiredness away for now.

“Spencer?”

He turned to Y/N and froze at what she was holding. He looked back to her face, expecting to see the disgust or pity in her eyes, yet all he saw was empathy. As if she knew exactly what he was feeling, or going through right now. Wordlessly she placed the syringe and the Dilaudid on the coffee table and searched her bag for something. She took it out and placed it beside the Dilaudid.

Razor blades. Three of them.

He looks back at her, shock clear on his face. He really looks at her now, taking in his sweater and his sweatpants hanging on loosely. There is a vulnerable expression, her posture hunched in as if to protect herself from criticism or disgust. What drew him the most is the tears that filled her eyes, threatening to fall down. He could feel his own eyes tearing up as he crossed the room and took her in his arms. They both broke down, clutching onto each other as they cry their hearts out.

They don't know how long they say there, embraced and lost in their grief. The whistling from the kettle broke them out of their embrace, and she looked guilty at his wet shirt. "Sorry about that," she said, nodding at the wet spot on his shirt.

"Don't worry about it," Spencer murmured, wiping away the remaining tears. With a small smile, he walked to the kitchen to get the tea and coffee. Y/N sniffled, wiping her tears with Spencer's long sleeves. She looked back when Spencer enters with a cup of her favorite tea. She smiled tiredly, noticing his dark circles and red eyes.

"Thanks," She whispered, and with a tug on her arm, they both sat on the couch. She tucked her legs under her, keeping some space between Spencer. There was a hesitation in the air as if they were not sure of themselves after such intimate moment.

“I never told anyone about that,” Y/N said, her voice soft as she nodded to the blades. “That’s why I was walking around. If I was in my apartment, I think I would have given in.”

“Oh,” Spencer mustered, continued to look at his coffee. “I understand. If you hadn’t come maybe I would have too.”

“What stopped you?”

“Emily,” Spencer whispered, tears immediately filling his eyes.

“Did she know?”

“The whole team knows, except for Seavar and Rossi. It happened when she was new,” He answered, a shake in his voice. “We were on this case-“

“You don’t need to tell me,” she told him in empathy. She knew how hard it is to open up about something like this, and that’s why she never told anyone when she moved to Quantico.

“I want to,” he looked up at her, his face showing determination. “We were on this case in Atlanta, and the unsub was suffering from dissociate identity disorder. One of his personalities would torture me while Tobias, the unsub, would drug me with Dilaudid. He said it would help, but it only made things worse.”

There was a haunted look in his eyes, and Y/N reached over to hold his hand. Spencer snapped out of his memories when he looked down at their intertwined hands, and he looked up to see her up close with a broken expression. She squeezed his hand, letting him know that she was there and if he needed to stop it was fine. There was no judgment in her eyes, just understanding.

“He made me choose which family to kill, and I had to. They died right in front of me,” his voice cracked at the end, but Y/N didn’t make a move to get closer. She let her own tears flow, her heart aching for the man sitting beside her. He wasn’t looking at her, just staring forward and continuing with his story.

“I had to kill him and his last words were thank you. I took the two bottles of Dilaudid from his dead body, and I tried at first to not get high. But the pain and nightmares were too much-“

“And you wanted an escape,” she finished for him.

“Yeah,” he agreed. He swallowed down in nervousness, trying to not break down again. “The team noticed, of course, but they couldn’t do anything officially. Emily was new at that time, and it was easier to snap at her than others.” He concentrated on the patterns she was drawing on top of his hand, drawing comfort and courage to continue.

“But she was very understanding,” He continued, looking back at Y/N with teary eyes. “Hotch couldn’t talk about it officially because then I would have lost my job. Gideon helped, but even though I have been clean for 3 years 2 months and 28 days now, the cravings never leave. It only increases when you are in pain.”

“I know,” Y/n consoled, continuing to draw circles. She placed the cup with her free hand, and gently, almost hesitantly, placed her head on his shoulder. He rested his head on top of her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to bring her closer. They both needed the comfort, whether it was physical or emotional.

“My parents divorced when I was 14. It was really messy, both of them were fighting over every single thing. I felt so lost because I always thought that they loved each other you know? Everything got too much for me, so I started to cut myself,” she started, and maybe it is because Spencer was open about his experience that it makes it easier for to do the same.

“Cutting is another outlet for coping with problems. It may help you express feelings you can’t put into words, distract you from your life, or release emotional pain. 90% of people who engage in self-harm begin during their teen or pre-adolescent,” Spencer told her, rambling off statistics. He winced outward, knowing that facts were not comforting words to many.

But it brought a small smile on her face because she knew that facts comforted Spencer, and she knew that it was his way to comfort others. “Then my dad died in a car accident when I turned 17 and made sure that my mom would not get a single penny,” Her voice suddenly shook, remembering the numbness she felt at that time. Spencer tightened his grip, now his turn to draw circles on her hand.  

“He left all of his money and properties to me, and that made my mom so mad. As soon as I turned 18 she threw me out of my house. It didn’t matter really, they both stopped being my parents a long time ago. I guess my dad left everything for me because of guilt. The cuttings made me feel better, but I tried to get better when I started college. I got help but it never went away you know.

“Then I got pregnant.”

“What?” He stuttered, not expecting that. His mind went blank because Y/N never talked about her child, and his eyes widen with the possibility of why.

“A lot of people thought it was the biggest mistake of my life. 18 and pregnant, but she was the best thing that ever happened to me. The father got scared and ran off, but it didn’t matter.”

“What’s her name?” He asked tenderly, his heart heavy with sadness for the woman beside him.

“Lily,” she whispered, her voice breaking into a sob. She sniffed back, blinking her eyes to stop crying. It was so hard to even say her name after so long. “It was so weird. She hated lilies because she said people would always give her that rather than roses. But I finally had a family. It was just me and her, but it was more than enough. Everything was perfect. It was hard but so worth it.”

There was nostalgia in her voice, a longing that he knew that would always be there. He choked back his own sobs, trying to stay strong for her. “How did she-“

A shudder went through her body as she shut her eyes closed and clenched her jaw. He felt her shudder and brought her closer to him in order to comfort her. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” He whispered to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I couldn’t save her. I was the youngest detective at that time with the highest success rate in the state and I couldn’t save her. That’s why I became a profiler so that others won’t have to go through what I experienced. But I couldn’t save Emily when it mattered the most, and now I feel so useless. If I can’t save those who I love, then what’s the use of this job Spence?”

“I know,” He whispered, burying his head in her hair. She practically sat on his lap, tucking her head in the crook of his neck as they both grieved. They don’t know when they stopped crying or when they both fell asleep on the couch, legs tangled and bodies pressed against each other.

All they know is that it was the first time since they didn’t have a nightmare since Emily’s death.

…

The moment Y/N wakes up, she instantly knew that it wasn’t her bed. She felt someone’s breathing down her neck, and she opened her eyes to find herself flushed to someone’s chest. She looks up to see Spencer snoring softly and mouth slightly open. She smiled at the cute look on his face and notices that he has his arms wrapped around her waist, making it harder for her to get up. She glances at the coffee table, taking in the blades, syringes, and the half-empty cups and suddenly realizes that she didn’t have a nightmare.

She had a light headache and her eyes felt dry because of all the crying she did last night (or was it early morning?) and she was squeezed on the couch with Spencer. But all she felt safe, with his arms around her and legs tangled with each other. She settled back onto his arm, closing her eyes and going to the dreamland with him.

It was the weekend, so she knew that they won’t get called in. All she wanted right now was feeling safe, and in his arms she found it.

She hoped that this would never end.

[thenichibro]

Winter 2017 Anime First Impressions

The first season we’re really feeling the effects of more anime simulcast services. Yellow subs, torrents not being under the CR/Funi umbrella - dark times. Due to the fact I can only DDL at college, I am choosing not to watch LWA or Onihei because I wouldn’t be able to keep up with them. I’m definitely going back to LWA after the season’s over though. Regardless, this season has the usual ups and downs, but initially I’m seeing a lot of ups - Maidragon is fantastic, Demi-chan and Urara are cute as hell, and Scum’s Wish is almost emotionally draining to watch, it’s so enthralling. Here’s what I’m watching, with MAL links: Fuuka (MAL) Starting off, we have an ecchi almost-harem manga that I didn't like. Great. Fuuka has the original plot elements of a shut-in guy that popular on the internet, who also has a super-popular girl as his childhood friend and soon gets to know another cute girl. Also his three sisters never wear clothes. Cool. Fuuka wasn't really that shit until the truck-to-the-face level plot twist that occurred in the manga, which I hope they will reach in the anime just for the reactions to how bullshit it is. Other than that, Fuuka is a less-than-stellar sort of harem about a whiny, bland main character. Fuuka even falls on the MC twice in the first episode for good measure. Oh, I guess also the plot involves playing music, but that's basically just a way for more random good things to happen to an unlikable character. OP and ED are nothing special, either. If anything, Diomedia's art style is usually good. Otherwise, avoid. Masamune-kun no Revenge (MAL) A story of a fat kid who got ripped and now wants to get revenge on his former crush. It's something new, for sure. The completely worthless perfect-in-everything trope is now supplied by both the female AND male leads. What a show. At the very least, Masamune-kun tempers the trope by giving both mains embarrassing reasons to keep up airs. The girls we've met aren't half bad, and I for one support a peppy class rep rather than the standard strict, megane type. The princess-complex is so tiring every time it happens, so lets hope that the show moves more toward Makabe/Aki in their real selves rather than putting on airs. Masamune-kun's plot actually strikes me as similar to Last Game, if anyone's read that manga. While I doubt this show will carry far enough into the future to deal with marriage, the story of a guy trying to ruin/outdo a girl and falling for her is definitely there. I have no strong feelings one way or another about this show, at least not yet. That will probably depend on how much princess Aki vs. normal Aki we see. Minami Kamakura Koukou Joshi Jitensha-bu (MAL) I thought Long Riders was last season? Anyway, here we have a slice of life about a girl in a biking club. Relaxing enough premise, for sure. First impressions are that this show takes it pretty slow, judging from the fact that it takes 14 minutes before the main characters get to school at all. That is not a complaint, just an observation. Another is how different the landscape art is from the character art. The show opens with some amazing nature stills, while the character art is, for lack of a better term, "old." As in, it almost has the feel of an earlier 2000s show. I did wonder how much into biking the show would get, like Long Riders did, and the end of episode 1 answered that for me. The last two minutes or so are a live action segment where two of the seiyuu learn about getting into biking by talking to a guy running a bike shop. While the super serious stuff is what kind of made Long Riders fall flat for me, maybe it won't be as serious. We’ll see. Nyanko Days (MAL) I guess since I can't get my Teekyuu fix, I'll have to find a different two-minute show. Nyanko Days is about Tomoko, a girl who has three personified cats. For a two-minute show, that's about how far episode 1 got. She was depressed about being lonely, but cheers up upon arriving home to her three cats, Maa, Shii, and Rou. For a show this short the animation is surprisingly clean, and the 30sec ED was suitably full of "nya" and various words combined with it. It's cute, and it's two minutes long, so why not? Seiren (MAL) I came into this show knowing little more than it was a school romantic comedy, and overall I think it benefited my first impressions. The show focuses on three main girls and their relations with the male MC, and dedicates a few episodes to each of them out of the 12-episode cour. I'm immediately wary of this, only because it gives me flashbacks (read: PTSD) to Photokano, where they focused on a different girl each few episodes and then reset time the next section. I do enjoy the lack of the transfer student trope, at least for the MC. The first moments successfully give you the sense that there is already a school community, something I prefer over having to sort out relationships individually following a transfer. Overall, the MC is pretty standard and the current girl has a tiring personality. As long as this show stays far from resembling trash like Photokano, I think this show will be defined by the personality of the current girl, whether you like that or not. Chaos;Child (MAL) Because we needed more of the Chaos;Head storyline. I don't remember much about Chaos;Head, other than the incredibly shit voice of the main character and the incredibly shit everything else. I watched the first episode in a 1-hour combination with "Episode 0," which is a recap of Head. If you get the HorribleSubs release, that's what the file will be. Anyway, Child itself takes place six years after Head, in which the main character of that show causes some event or something. The recap doesn't help at all. Child follows a school's newspaper club investigating murders similar in strangeness to those during Head. Initially, Takuru seems like a person interested in the depravity and bizaare level of the murders, but that personality gets completely dropped when he tries investigating the newest murder - he completely loses all cool after seeing a body. While that otherwise may be a fairly normal reaction, it goes at odds with the Takuru that had looked at pictures of previous murders and called them "juicy" and interesting. He also regains the first personality after the event is over. Just seems way too abrupt. I will say Itou Kanako returns as she does for everything semi-colon related, and her voice is as good as ever in the OP/ED. I'm thankful for the lack of the otaku protag, but otherwise this seems just as nonsensical as Chaos;Head but with better art. Not looking forward to more. One Room (MAL) The second short show of the season, from famed artist Kantoku. That's the only reason I'm watching this, anyway. This show makes the initially strange choice of being shot in POV, with a voiceless male protagonist. The first episode sees him meet his new high-school girl neighbor, then grow close enough to her that she asks him to help her study. The show is billed as series of shorts focusing on three girls, so I would expect something like four episodes for each one. The most noticeable part of the show is the art, and damn does it look good. Closeups of the girl, fluttering cherry petals, everything is beautiful as a still and smooth when in motion. The POV part is less of a problem for me as I see it as similar to a visual novel, and with the girls being cute and the art being great, this will be an enjoyable watch each week. Kemono Friends (MAL) An all-CG mobile-game show, and a full 24 minutes at that. Why am I watching this? One of the things that stood out immediately was the grating sound of the first two characters's voices. Kemono Friends involves Japari Park, in which anthropomorphized animal girls live and have to deal with aliens called Ceruleans. While the show is clearly projecting a light-hearted tone, it was strange to hear heavy techno during a battle with a big Cerulean. This show looks like no more than a walk around the different areas to see different animal girls. I'd be satisfied with that if it wasn’t just so boring. The OP is suitably bouncy, but even if this show doesn’t get serious, 24 minutes of bad animation is a serious slog. Kobayashi-san Chi no Maid Dragon (MAL) Ah Kyoani, the true saviors of anime. Kyoto Animation's production budget meets the artstyle and writing of Danna ga Nani's creator. I'm on board. A working adult who drunkenly invites a dragon-girl to be her maid. A unique premise, to be sure. Right off the bat, the contrast between the Tohru's unfazed optimism and Kobayashi being done with her shit all the time made me laugh my ass off. The sequence with Tohru getting more scared of humans when Kobayashi and Takiya are drunk was also top-tier. Art-wise the show looks great, animation is smooth, and Tohru is cute as hell. Always a plus. In addition, I think Kobayashi is a grounded character with a few weird tastes, which is somewhat more relatable than a totally “normal” person, if I'm being honest. Regarding the OP/ED, I will do anything for more fhana, and Maidragon's OP does not disappoint. No ED in episode 1. Overall, I was surprised at how much I liked a show with such an ostensibly strange premise, but I am wholeheartedly excited for the next episode. Kuzu no Honkai (MAL) I was immediately drawn in by the brutally emotional premise of Kuzu no Honkai, or Scum's Wish. Two students dating, only using the other as a physical replacement for an impossible emotional love. Wow. I was almost shocked when the episode ended, because I had been enthralled the entire time. Even through the intimate scenes, there was a heavy air, one punctuated by wells of emotion that kept me breathless. Something has to be said for the sound design too - the crescendos of music match Hana's emotional ups and downs to a T. Flawless. Likewise, the art throughout, especially with the black watercolors clouding white paper, the choices of camera angles during the intimate scene - it brings out the regretful and simultaneously indulgent feelings that the scene evokes. The fact that sexual encounters in anime are almost always moments for comedy rather than real emotion just makes Kuzu no Honkai's scenes more unique. Just the very idea of feelings so strong that two lonely people would come together to physically try to stave them off is both depressing and greatly intriguing at the same time. Even the general atmosphere of episode 1 enriched the painful introspective Hana was going through, culminating in the titular wish. With the courage to take a darker look at high-school romance, I want to see more. Watch this show. Demi-chan wa Kataritai (MAL) I didn't think I had a thing for something as specific as "blonde vampires," but there you go. Man, does this show make me feel good. A world where racism towards demi-humans has calmed down to the point where it's a normal part of life. No serious, overbearing issues, just a fun, light-hearted look at the concept of a demi-human living a modern life. I think I find the epitome of that in Takahashi, who doesn't really want much more than to just know more about demi-humans - he has a genuine desire to get to know the subtleties of their lives. Soft-spoken and laid back, he is the perfect foil for the quirky, bubbly Hikari, the aforementioned blonde vampire. Funny exchanges with a few heartwarming moments combine to form one hell of a great first episode. The ED fits the relatively calm tone perfectly, but I'm partial to the OP by TrySail after they caught my eye doing Classroom Crisis' OP. Give it a listen. While there are some noticeably harem-esque undertones, if this show stays relatively away from Monster Musume ecchi and carves its own niche, I will enjoy it to the fullest. Urara Meirochou (MAL) [To get this out of the way first, FUCK Anime Network - who the hell thinks yellow subs, and hardsubs at that, still look fine? At least with the CR/Funi deal I would think we would have some consistency for once, damn.] I saved this for last because it looked like the most healing show this season. That, and midriffs. I'm a sucker for the traditional Japanese style (Mushishi, Katanagatari, Uchouten Kazoku), and Meirochou's art and architecture do not disappoint. Thus far, this is a heartwarming tale of four girls working to find themselves through their style of fortune-telling. The four girls are quite cute, even if Nono's voice is pitched just a bit too high. Also, midriffs. I hope that stays. I also like Chiya's wild-person-new-to-society personality, and I think it meshes interestingly with three other girls that, while adjusted to society outside of Meirochou, are otherwise just as new. Overall, this is a show that takes an interesting setting and premise and aims to tell a story through four cute girls. What's not to love?

[miss-m-calling]

Trick or Treat 2018 letter

Dear writer,

Hello and thank you for writing for me. I’m very excited to read whatever you come up with.

Regarding tricks and treats: for tricks, a story in the general tone of the canon would be great; if you want to introduce a more clear-cut trick element, spookiness, ambiguity, menace, some darkness, maybe some violence if the story wants to go there, a dark supernatural element (e.g., what may or may not be a haunting) even if the canon’s realistic, rather than extreme grimdark where everyone dies or gets raped and dismembered.

For treats, a story in the general tone of the canon would be great; if you want to introduce a more clear-cut treat element, humor, silliness, crack, a maybe-supernatural element (e.g., this is definitely not a haunting right?), something mildly hopeful, rather than teeth-rotting fluff.  

Requests:

American Gods (TV)

Laura Moon, Mad Sweeney

Fic, trick or treat

I ship it. Yes I do. I also love their snarky road trip in and of itself. They’re both such assholes and so fascinating, even if they mellow toward each other a bit in the last two episodes, and all the gods/magic/resurrection stuff swirling around them begs to be explored further. Plus she’s half his size yet can and does beat him up with literally one finger, and then there the angst of he having killed her and then brought her back.

Please give me either missing scenes from the road trip (with or without Salim, whom I like too) or something post-S1. Laura discovers (how? you decide!) that Sweeney gave her back the coin after their accident -- whatever happens next, some punching may be involved. Wednesday’s big war finally comes, and “don’t you dare die on me, you asshole” is a line either Sweeney or Laura (or both) might say to each other. Or something exploring living death. Magical bargains. Meetings – smooth and harmonious, though let’s be real, with these two it’s probably the opposite – with other Old Gods and assorted supernatural beings from various cultures. What kind of favor did Sweeney do for Ostara that would be worth her bringing someone back to life as repayment? What other powers might Sweeney have (he doesn’t seem on a par with someone like Wednesday and Ostara, nor does he consider himself to be entirely like them)? How long can a dead wife keep going before she’s “soup”? What other superhuman abilities might dead!Laura have? Can the dead do magic? Laura asked “What does Wednesday have to lose?” and the answer is...? (Yes, give me that sweet poetic justice.) Sweeney basically stops calling her “dead wife” (or anything else) toward the end of S1 -- there comes a time when he (has to) call her by her actual name, and that’s a tricky moment for them to navigate. Or, Mad Sweeney is not his actual name, since true names have great magical power; Laura discovers or learns his name, from someone else or from himself; what does she do with that knowledge? Also, my perfect AG spinoff would basically be Sweeney and Laura tooling around America, looking to get her resurrected (whether they succeed in this or not is up to you), stealing ever more ridiculous vehicles, arguing/fighting and having those pesky moments where vulnerability and genuineness creep in – and fucking. So I’d be down for porn, but only for these two characters together, not one of them with a third party. If it helps your inspiration, you can find some of my meta and lots of tag-burbling about these two here.

I have read the book, and while I prefer the show characters, you can use or riff on book material if you want. With reference to one of my DNWs, for this canon, describing Laura’s physical decay is totally fine.

Cabin Pressure

Fic, treat

Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, Arthur Shappey, Martin Crieff, Douglas Richardson

I just want more canon-y stories with their loopy humor and their weird yet loving family dynamics among the crew. Shenanigans in mid-flight or in the tedium which precedes and the tiredness which follows them. Someone smuggles (knowingly or not) an exotic animal on-board, legal, security, medical and/or slapstick chaos ensues. A mechanical, passenger- or smuggled-goods-caused problem arises and is solved during a journey. More games played on board GERTI. While I DNW holiday settings or themes, I can see comic potential in Arthur getting overly enthusiastic about Halloween (remember Arthur at Christmas?). Playing around with a specific destination, like in many episodes, would be a plus. If it helps inspire you, my favorite episodes in terms of tone and content are: Douz, Gdansk, Johannesburg, Limerick, Ottery St. Mary, Uskerty, and Xinzhou.

For this canon, I’d prefer either gen or, if you want to go there, Douglas/Carolyn, which is a ship I always thought had potential – they understand each other very well and trust each other most of the time, but they’re both also snark-masters, tend to look down on anyone not as smart or quick-witted as they (Arthur being the sole -- occasional -- exception), and are really good about keeping their defenses up against other people.

Justified

Boyd Crowder, Rachel Brooks

Fic, trick or treat

For Boyd, a moment in canon or post-canon, during his likely-lifelong incarceration, where we get to see him work one of his schemes. For Rachel, case fic or friendship fic, and you can definitely throw in Raylan and/or Tim and/or Art. Model Marshal Rachel gets stuck doing the early morning prisoner transport or handling walk-ins (bonus points for telling me how she earned this punishment from Art). Banter is always a plus.

And if you wanted to tackle Boyd & Rachel or Boyd/Rachel, well. I would love that. Their few brief interactions in canon always left me wanting more. Boyd trying to pull the wool over Rachel’s eyes and her not having it. Having to work together or Rachel needing to use Boyd as a informant, and possibly how the hostility might shade into flirting and how Rachel might feel about that, given Boyd’s past (even if, as Raylan said, Boyd’s too smart to really believe in white supremacy, there’s still his lifelong criminality). The beginnings of a good working relationship or friendship or affection, and how frustrating and difficult that would be, because they are who they are. Or the later stages of a relationship, when somehow they make it work, however tense it gets at times.

Specifically for trick fic, there be somethin’ spooky in them there hills. Maybe it’s just the usual bunch of hillbillies with more firepower than brains, maybe it’s something genuinely eldritch. Marshals and/or local crime lords walk right into it. A Lovecraftian riff would be great, as would an actually-mundane case of crime happening under cover of supernatural goings-on.

DC New Earth

Thessaly

Fic, trick

I nominated this character under The Sandman’s canon tag, but it got moved to the DC New Earth umbrella tag. 

Thessaly is my favorite Sandman character and one of my favorite characters in general. I love that she is not always or even often likeable, but she is always compelling, intriguing, hypercompetent, ruthless, fearless, and sometimes foolhardy. Her solitary ways and commitment to her own long-term survival, without the reader ever figuring out what – other than the desire for more life – drives her, fascinate me, as does her humorlessness coupled with everything that’s fantastic and supernatural about her. I’d love to see her do more chilling magic (invent dark, bloody rituals and tell me about them, by all means), go on adventures in the Waking, Dreaming, or still other realms*, get into a jam (maybe the Moon tries to claim her? Or she obtains a magical artifact and its owner isn’t happy?) and get out of it in her own way. Or Thessaly interacting with other Dreaming denizens (say, snarky Matthew, or the three guardians of the entrance to Morpheus’ palace, or the Second Corinthian with all his identity issues). Or give me glimpses of Thessaly’s past, over the many millennia she’s been around. Or, she must have moved from other worlds or planes of reality, possibly at their final destruction, to our own, just as she moves to Barbie’s dreamworld and survives its destruction; what were those worlds like, or where might Thessaly go once this world is gone? Does she outlast or out-trick the Moon in the process?

One thing I would appreciate you not dwelling on is Thessaly/Morpheus – I don’t mean retcon it out of existence, just don’t dwell on the actual relationship, which I always found somewhat improbable. Exploring Thessaly’s hurt and anger after the end of that relationship is fine. I have also read the Thessaly spin-offs, so you can riff on those if you want (what does she do with all the dead crowding her at the end?), but please note that if you describe Thessaly, I prefer her frumpy, self-composed design in Sandman over the Lara Croft-lite of the spinoffs.

*Fusion suggestion: if you wanted to send Thessaly into the world of Jennifer Haley’s play The Nether, I would be there with bells on. If you are unfamiliar with The Nether, it’s a science-fiction play about literally living on the Internet (easily handwaved into a kind of magic or a living dream) and how that influences people’s sense of self – be forewarned that the play’s not explicit but is pretty damn dark.

Likes:

I love pre-canon, canon, post-canon, canon-divergent, and “missing scene from canon” stories. I love character-driven and plot-driven stories equally, and I love fics which mix humor and angst/serious business when appropriate for the canon.

I love character studies, characters at work and play, stories about group dynamics, family dynamics (including constructed families), professional partnerships, friendships, alliances, rivalries, intimate couples, UST-ridden couples who are not just UST-ridden but connected in other ways too, etc.

I love irony, snark, 5+1 stories, bittersweet endings, hopeful endings, happy endings, canon-fitting crack, worldbuilding, characters who are their own worst enemies as well as those who learn to get over themselves, characters with conflicting values which may or may not be reconciled/resolved in a believable and IC way, characters who treat each other with respect and as equals even if they hate/annoy/can’t stand/love to dislike each other.

I especially love workplace stories (this can mean anything from an office/procedural setting to anything that revolves around the canon world in which the characters live) in which the characters are competent and dedicated to the job, and while they may not be exactly friends and they may well irritate one another, they still manage to rub along to get the job done and maybe even grow to care about one another (much to their surprise and sometimes reluctance/discomfort). Or, if they can’t get along, show me why not and what’s preventing them from finding common ground.

In terms of ship dynamics, I love (where it fits the characters) banter, competitiveness or antagonism shading into attraction (this tension need not be resolved), bickering yet loving couples, faithfulness, characters who are serious about their romantic interests, characters who think they are much better at flirtation than they actually are, characters forced to work together only to prove much more compatible than they initially assumed, fics which mix an exploration of characters’ professional and everyday lives with shipping. A dynamic I cannot resist is shipping a couple who are incompatible in some important way (they are ideological enemies, cop/criminal, spies from opposite sides), and while they love and want each other they’re also not willing to change sides or surrender/compromise their identity for the other’s benefit, and how they might (or not) make their relationship work anyway.

I don’t have any very specific likes for smut, other than smut fitting the characters – show me how their canon dynamics spill over into the bedroom (or other place of congress). I also like sexual scenarios that subvert expectations a little and surprise the characters themselves (e.g., the person who’s usually quiet or more passive taking charge, the more aggressive person goes with it possibly snarking or commenting on it as long as they can). And I like sexual scenarios that contain an element of competition, antagonism, oh-god-this-is-a-bad-idea-but-we’re-going-for-it, not wanting to admit feelings or show vulnerability except oops it happens anyway, whether the characters acknowledge it or not, or just people getting way more into it or being more affected by it than they thought they would. Oral, vaginal, anal, manual (ifyouknowwhatImean) – it’s all good. You can go as veiled or as explicit as you like, but please avoid excessive medical jargon – I don’t find a lot of mention of “penis” and “clit” sexy.

DNWs:

Kinks, MPREG, A/B/O, knotting, D/s, incest, underage, genderswap and genderbent characters, non-con, dub-con, torture and abuse (this and non-con/dub-con can be mentioned if the story needs it, but please don’t dwell on it in loving detail or subject any of my requested characters to it), dwelling on bodily fluids (mentions of gore and come are fine where appropriate), toilet humor, character bashing, soulmates and soul marks, major character death (unless it’s canon), pregnancy and children as the lynchpin of the story (unless strictly canon appropriate), characters agonizing over/analyzing/dwelling on their or others’ sexuality as if it’s the sum total of their existence, secondary characters acting like shipping the main pair is their be all and end all, fluff and schmoop, OCs (except in small roles and/or for worldbuilding purposes – I just don’t want a fic in which OCs are the heroes, while my requested characters are cameos), issuefic, explicit or implicit reference to current events or politics in the US, fic written in the first or second person, holiday or wedding setting or theme, AUs which have nothing to do with canon (cop characters working in a coffee shop, high-school janitor characters in space, etc.)