#see you later for ch 1 of the birthday fic!

[cuz-reasons]

Now, I have ended up with 5 finished works and a bunch of other wips so I do need to post smth soon

This all to say I'm posting smth once I get home from work so look out for that

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 9

You've found a new normal in your life in the QZ. Then it all changes. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-8, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller X Female Reader

Length: 4K

Warnings: Nothing major this time but the whole fic is VERY 18+ so minors? DNI :) Mention of past miscarriage. No use of Y/N

Sunday, October 5, 2008 - Five Years Later 

You’d purposely filled up your Sunday. It wasn’t a day you wanted to think about. Having even a few minutes alone sounded awful. Your birthday had always been hell since the outbreak and you needed anything to keep your mind busy. You wished it was just Monday already. Mondays were long days. Sundays, you had to work at it. 

You got an early start, waking up at 6 a.m. and putting on a Joni Mitchell CD you’d found a few weeks back. You’d traded a few ration cards for it, but it was worth it. You French braided your hair, putting ribbons on the ends. They matched the flowers you’d stitched to cover up the patches you’d made on your shirt. You always felt a bit better when you had ribbons and flowers around. You really needed that, on your birthday. 

Breakfast just sounded miserable, so you gathered up the cookies you’d made the night before - splitting them into two groups, the larger pile for the clinic and the smaller for Abe. You headed for the radio first. 

The line was always short on Sunday morning if you went first thing. There were only four people ahead of you when you got there. You normally let your mind wander while you waited, or brought a book, but you’d been so busy trying to distract yourself that morning, you’d left your book sitting next to your bed. Instead, you eavesdropped. 

The person who was in with Abe when you got there had been communicating regularly with their sister in Kansas City. The sister had news about a man she’d been seeing. It sounded good. You smiled a little. It was nice when the radio brought good news. There was so little to be had anymore. 

Abe stepped into the hall where you were waiting to grab the next person and noticed you in line. 

“Sweets!” He smiled, jerking his head at you. “You’re up.” 

“Come on, man!” The man two people ahead of you snapped. “I’ve been waiting!” 

“Start bringing me cookies every week, you can jump the line, too,” Abe snapped. “Sweets doesn’t have to wait.” 

“It’s fine, really…” you began, but Abe cut you off. 

“You don’t wait,” he said. “C’mon.” 

You smiled apologetically at the people in line ahead of you and followed Abe into the radio room, closing the door behind you. You gave him his cookies, wrapped in paper and twine. He opened them, wriggling his fingers at the small pile. 

“I don’t know how you make oatmeal cookies so damn good,” he said, grabbing one and taking a bite, closing his eyes in pleasure. “But damn, do you ever.” 

“Brown the butter,” you smiled. 

“I don’t even know what the fuck that means,” he said. “That’s why you don’t have to wait. What do you need, Sweets? The usual?” 

You nodded. He licked the crumbs off his fingers. 

“I can tell you right now, there’s no news,” he said. “Everyone knows who to look out for…” 

“I know,” you smiled. “But can you double check for me? Need the list?” 

“Sweets, it’s been five years,” he smiled sadly at you. “I don’t need the list.” 

He started, as always, at the Dallas QZ. 

“Howdy Dallas, hope you’re having a good Sunday,” he said. “Got my usual. Looking to see if you’ve had any new arrivals by the name Joel Miller, Sarah Miller or Thomas Miller. Those three would likely all be together. Also looking for a Cassandra Wilson and a Joshua Trumble.” He was silent for a moment. You heard a crackle of sound from his headphones. “What about folks matching those descriptions?” 

He rattled off ages, general appearances. There was a short crackle. He just shook his head at you and moved on to Atlanta. 

It didn’t take him long to get through all the QZs. There was nothing. You weren’t surprised, but you were always a little let down all the same. You held out the ration cards you traded him but he just looked at them. You frowned for a second. 

“Did the price change?” You asked. “I can get more, I have some saved…” 

“It doesn’t…” he sighed, looking at you. “I don’t know that I can keep taking your money, Sweets.” 

“I promise you can,” you smiled. “I hold it out, you put it in your hand, done deal.” 

“You’ve been here twice a week, every week, for five years,” his eyes were sad. “Everyone in the country knows who you’re looking for. If they were out there, we’d have found them. I’m sorry, I think it’s time that…” 

“You’re sweet to worry,” you cut him off. “But I know them. They just… haven’t made it to a QZ yet, that’s all. Joel and Tommy and Sarah especially. They’re probably… I don’t know, living off the land somewhere. They’ll probably end up at a QZ eventually for some reason, right? I’ll find them when they do.” 

You held the cards out, more insistently this time. He sighed and took them. 

“Thanks, Abe,” you smiled. “Muffins Wednesday?” 

“You spoil me, Sweets.” 

The clinic was just opening for the day when you got there, Andrew camped out behind the front desk. You frowned. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked. “You don’t work Sundays.” 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, not looking at you. “Figured I’d work this Sunday.” You sighed. He met your eyes. “You doing OK?” “Don’t know what you mean,” you smiled tightly, handing him the paper-wrapped package of cookies. “Can you make sure these get around to everyone? I don’t want to bring them home with me…” 

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Because anyone ever turns down your baking.” 

You smiled a little, drumming your hands on the desk for a moment before heading into the back to set your bag down and grab your supplies for the day. 

When you’d gotten to the QZ almost five years ago to the day, you’d been a mess. Andrew had been the only reason you’d made it alive. The miscarriage had taken a turn. You’d needed him to find abortive medications at a pharmacy to finish it which, thankfully, had been left on the shelves in the midst of other looting. You survived the sepsis because you’d grabbed the antibiotics a few days earlier and you recognized the signs. 

Intake had been rough. You were covered in blood. You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to change. They searched your body over and over. Andrew had been screaming from the next bed but you couldn’t remember what he’d been yelling. You weren’t sure if you ever known. It took a day or two before you were able to really communicate anything with the powers that be in what became the QZ. 

The second they heard you had a degree in biology, had been finishing up a pre-med degree and had started studying for medical school, they sent a military doctor in to talk to you. 

“Still interested in becoming a doctor?” He asked, arms crossed. It was a harder question to answer than it should have been. Were you interested in anything anymore? 

“Yes,” you said eventually. “But I don’t exactly think the MCATs are still happening.” 

“We desperately need doctors,” he said. “I’ll train you. It’ll be hard, med school on steroids, because we need people now. At the moment, we have me and not much else.” 

“How?” You frowned. “This is Boston. There’s Harvard, there’s…” 

“Almost no one made it out of there,” he shook his head. “We need you. I can train you.” 

You thought for a second. 

“OK.” 

Dr. Elias had loaded you down with texts almost immediately, giving you assigned reading and having you shadow him at every opportunity. You were stitching wounds closed in a matter of days. Removing an appendix in a year.

More doctors had arrived at the QZ over time but, by then, you were one of them. You’d never have the degree - not that a piece of paper meant a damn thing in the apocalypse - but you were a doctor. It was the first time you’d felt really satisfied since summer, 2003. The day Dr. Elias told you that you didn’t need to shadow him anymore, you had full privileges, Andrew took you for a drink at the speakeasy. You thought of when you graduated college, Joel toasting you with a bottle of real champagne - one from France - he’d gone out of his way to find. 

Sunday in the clinic kept you busy enough. You had a steady stream of patients, with everything from UTIs to stitches for a kid who jumped off some steps and cut their head open to a guy with syphilis whose symptoms had gotten so bad he finally decided to see someone. The day, mercifully, flew by, not leaving you much time to think. It was pushing 10 p.m. when you realized how tired you were. 

“Hey Teach,” Andrew called to you. “Got a few more for you.” 

“Seriously?” You leaned across the counter, your head down on the desk. “I’m getting too old for this. It’s too late in the day for this.” 

“You are not too old for this,” he teased. 

“I’m 30 now, Andrew,” you lifted your head and propped your chin on your fist. “I’m basically dead.” 

“They say that 30’s the new 20,” he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. 

“Nah, it’s the opposite in QZ years,” you said. “30 is the new 74. I’m an old woman, basically geriatric.” 

“If you don’t take these, you’re going to the bar with me,” he said. You glared at him. He shrugged. “These are your choices, Teach. Not going to let you just go home and be sad and old. You can be sad and old here or sad and old at the bar, pick your poison.” 

You sighed and held out your hand. 

“Gimme the charts.” 

He handed you two folders and you frowned. 

“You didn’t say it was intake,” you said, looking at the tag color. “I’m not… Come on, don’t make me euthanize anyone today.” 

“You really think I’d do that to you?” He asked. “They cleared that part already, they just need to be examined. Make sure they’re not too feral, sounds like they’ve never been to a QZ before so they might be rabid.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“And I guess actually take care of people who haven’t had medical attention in five years,” he said. “That part, too.” 

“Your generation is the reason the world ended,” you said. “I’m convinced.” 

“I’m seven years younger than you, we’re the same shitty generation!” He leaned on the counter. “C’mon. Go treat the patients, then we can go get hammered. I think we need to get hammered. If you don’t want to go to the bar, I’ve got whiskey.” 

“Shitty whiskey.” 

“Does it matter?” 

You smiled a little. 

“It does not.” You sighed, cracking your neck before jogging in place for a second. “Alright, just two more and then this miserable day is officially over. Let’s get this across the finish line.” “Go, sports team!” He gave you a fist pump. You rolled your eyes and opened the top file. 

You almost fainted. 

“Where are they?” You asked. Your hands were shaking. You pulled your eyes from the file and looked at Andrew. “Where are they? What exam room, where are they? Andrew…” 

“They’re in 14, far end,” he said, his eyebrows knitting together. “What’s…” 

You dropped the file and started running. 

“Joel!” 

You were screaming, you couldn’t help it. Your legs couldn’t move fast enough. 

“Joel!” 

The door to the exam room on the far end opened and there he was. 

He was both exactly the same and so different. Still tall and broad and handsome, his hair still shaggy and curly, skin still golden tan. But he looked worn, like he’d been kicked a few too many times. He looked broken. It took him a second to register that he was looking at you. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head, a moment of confusion, then disbelief, then he was running for you. 

You threw yourself against him and he caught you, his arms wrapping around you so tightly you thought he might break you in two and you didn’t care. You took what felt like your first full breath in five years. He didn’t smell like sawdust anymore but it was him. You were sobbing. 

“Joel,” you breathed. Your voice was wet, your fingers in his hair as you clung to him. 

“You’re alive,” he choked out. He sounded breathless. He held you so close. “You’re alive, I thought you were dead, I thought I lost you years ago…” 

He dropped to his knees and took you with him, pulling back from you just enough to look at you. His hands went from your body to your face, holding you gently, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. You held his arms, smiling so broadly it felt like your face might crack. 

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” his eyes searched your face, your hair, looking over every inch of you. “You’re alive…” 

“I’ve been searching for you,” you were shaking, your fingers running over his arms. “I’ve been calling every QZ twice a week every week looking for you, I knew I’d find you eventually, I knew I’d find you…” 

He pulled you back against him and you held onto him. His hand went to the back of your head, holding you close. Tommy emerged from the room, his eyes wide as he looked at you. “Kid,” he breathed, walking slowly to you and Joel, dropping to his knees next to you. He was blurry through your tears but you smiled and nodded as best you could while being held against his brother. “My God, I never thought I’d see you again…” 

“How long have you been here?” Joel pulled back from you again, his eyes searching your own. 

“Five years,” you said, laughing a little. “Almost to the day. We were on our way to Martha’s Vineyard and ran into… Actually, I’m not sure if they were actually FEDRA yet but whatever they were, we got rerouted to Boston. I’ve been here since.” 

You looked between Tommy and Joel and then frowned. 

“Where’s Sarah?” You asked, looking around. “They only gave me two intake files, did someone else take hers? Where’s Sarah?” 

Joel didn’t say anything but you’d never seen him in more pain. He looked like someone had cut open his chest and ripped his heart clean out. You knew. Immediately you knew. Your heart broke.

“Oh Joel,” you reached for his face but he jerked back from you. It was like he wasn’t even looking at you anymore. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

***

Tommy knew better than to say Sarah’s name. Joel hadn’t heard it in years. Sometimes, if he went long enough and had enough distractions, he was able to pretend that she was just somewhere else. That he and Tommy were at work and Sarah was safely at home with you. Just like before. Tommy didn’t bring up Sarah. 

So when you said her name, it wiped him out. In part because, for a moment, the fact that she was gone had left his mind. It was different than when he was distracted or it was the first moment when he woke up every day, before he remembered. The joy, the relief at finding you - alive and whole and well - had overwhelmed him so much that everything else just lived in a separate reality. A different plane of existence that contained everything bad that he’d ever done or had ever happened to him that he’d left behind for a moment. Hearing her name…. 

“Teach?” The man from the front desk knelt beside you, his hands going around your shoulders. “We need to find someone else to do this?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes not leaving Joel. You looked devastated. Like someone had gutted you. “Yeah, I can’t… Ethically, I can’t do this, I’m sorry…” 

The man tried to pull you away from Joel but he held onto you. You gave the man a glance and a single shake of your head and he backed off. 

“I’ll go find Lee,” he said, frowning and searching your face for a moment before he left. 

“Where have you been?” You asked Tommy more than Joel, glancing his way before looking back to Joel. “How have you survived this long outside a QZ?” 

Joel glanced at Tommy who looked back to him. A silent agreement to not tell you the truth of it. 

“Scavenging,” Tommy said after a moment. “Finding what we could where we could. Ended up trading with some smugglers in QZs. Heard Boston wasn’t too bad, relatively speaking. Decided to make our way up here.” 

Your eyes kept running over Joel’s face. You found the scar at his temple, your eyes lingering there. You cautiously reached your hand forward and traced it, lightly, before you held his cheek. His eyes met yours. 

“You’re here,” you breathed. Your eyes were still so sad. His hand covered yours. “That’s all that matters, you’re here.” 

“Mr. Miller? Both Mr. Millers,” A man came out of the back with the guy from the front desk. Joel glanced at him. “We’re going to get you two processed, you’ll have to come with me…” 

Joel tightened his grip on you. He couldn’t let you go, not now. Tommy tugged on his arm but Joel shrugged him off. 

“Mr. Miller,” the man said again. “We need you to come with us…” 

“C’mon,” the man from the desk put his hand on your arm, pulling you gently back from Joel. 

“Mr. Miller. You can see her again in just a few minutes…” 

“No,” Joel said sharply. 

“Joel,” your hand was still on his face. “It’s OK, I’m not going far and neither are you but there are checks we have to do when new people come to the QZ…” 

“Joel,” Tommy’s hands were on him now, too. “It won’t be long. Come on.” 

Joel pulled you against him one more time, holding you to him for a moment before pulling back from you. He let you go then, let the man lead him to a back room. He looked over his shoulder at you as the man from the front desk pulled you to your feet. 

“So that’s the dad…” he said quietly. 

“Yeah,” your voice cracked. He pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you. Joel scowled at him before looking straight ahead, following Tommy and the other man. 

The other man introduced himself as Dr. Lee and started going over Joel with a fine toothed comb. Joel paid it very little mind. He could not care less, he just wanted to get back to you. Being this far from you made him uneasy. Like if you were out of his sight you’d vanish. He watched the door. He could just see the top of your head pressed to the chest of the man from the desk. He was holding you close. He kissed your hair. Joel ground his teeth. 

He still couldn’t believe it was you. You were here, you were alive - fucking alive. He’d mourned you, alongside… He’d felt it. Felt that he’d never see you again, that you were gone. 

It didn’t help that, at first glance, you were the same. Exactly the same. You still braided your hair to keep it out of your way, still put ribbons on the ends - he couldn’t remember the last time he saw a fucking ribbon - still put flowers on the broken things. You looked a bit older but he was sure that, if the world had been like it was before, you’d still have been getting carded every time you ordered a beer. You were still fucking beautiful, so goddamn beautiful. You could have stepped straight out of his memories, been a hallucination. At night, when he couldn’t stop them and he was overwhelmed by thoughts of Sarah and you, you looked almost the same as you did now. The only difference was your eyes. There was a haunted knowing in them now. Like you’d learned the secret of the world - that it was cold and cruel - and been left to reckon with it alone. 

“Can she come back in now?” Tommy’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah, I can get her…” he went and opened the door. Addressed you as doctor. You all but ran inside, the other man close behind you. Joel glared at him. 

You, however, went straight for Joel, standing beside his exam table and reaching for him cautiously, like you weren’t sure he’d want you to touch him. Your eyes were red. He slipped your hand into his and your fingers laced with his own. He tugged you closer and your other hand went around his arm so that it was pressed against your torso. 

Dr. Lee addressed you. 

“You know the drill,” he began, but you shook your head. 

“Come on,” you said. “There has to be an exception we can use here, I don’t…” 

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head. 

“What?” Tommy asked. “What’s happening?” 

“You’ll need to stay in holding overnight,” the guy from the front desk said. He was watching you, not looking at Joel and Tommy at all. 

“That’s stupid,” you said. “They can stay with me, if anything got missed…” 

“You know we can’t do that,” Lee said. “It’s too dangerous, if there was a false negative read on the infection scanner you’d be dead.” 

“Please.” 

“It’s one night,” Lee said. “Elias would have my ass if he ever found out I let new intakes go home with you and I like being alive, thank you very much.” 

“It’s one night,” the front desk guy crossed his arms, looking at you. Joel wanted to snap him in half. 

“I’ll set you as their orientation liaison,” Lee said gently. “I’ll let the school know you won’t be in tomorrow. You can get them at 6 a.m.” 

“No,” Joel growled. 

“This isn’t the wild west, Mr. Miller,” Lee said. “There are ways things are done here. Best to start adjusting now. We’re going to take you back into holding…” 

“Can I get just two minutes?” You cut him off. “Please?” 

Lee looked between you and Joel. 

“Andrew stays too,” he said, leaving the room. The man from the front desk crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Joel. You didn’t seem to notice, instead just throwing your arms around Joel’s neck. Joel pulled you against him. 

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” you breathed in his ear. “I promise, I’ll be right back, I love you so much, Joel.” 

It was like his heart cracked. No one had said that to him in so long. His chest got tight. 

“I’ll be here, Baby,” he said softly. “Not going anywhere.” 

Dr. Lee came back and led Joel and Tommy out of the room, Andrew’s hand firmly on your shoulder as you watched them go. Joel felt sick, you being far away from him again. He focused on getting through to the morning. That’s all. He’d been away from you for more than five years, he could do one night. He was sure of it. Just one night. 

He couldn’t. 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

VALENTINE'S DAY FICS (Updated Feb 2024)

Well, I never got an ask for an updated list and I WAS going to reblog my own V-Day Fic list from a few years ago, but it's pitifully small compared to all the other lists I have come across. Instead, I decided to update it with all the fics I have on my MFL list as well, so I hope you guys enjoy this brand new list for Fic Rec Wednesday! Please add your own V-Day fics if you have them! Enjoy!!

See also these Other Peoples' Lists:

Valentine’s Day (Alexx)

Clean Valentine’s List (Alexx)

Mystrade Valentine’s (Various)

Cupidford’s Valentine’s Fics

Valentine’s Day + Update 2022 (SwissMiss)

Be my Valentine - Johnlock Collection (AO3 Collection List)

Atrium by kali_asleep (T, 3,460 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and One, Valentine’s Day, Fluff & Schmoop, First Kiss) – Five times Sherlock gave John his heart, and the one time Sherlock got a heart in return (literally).

Lingerie by Sexxica (E, 4,135 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Lingerie / Women’s Underwear, Mildly Public Masturbation, Picture Texting / Sexting, Bottomlock, Body Worship, Anal Sex / Fingering, Rimming, Orgasm Delay / Denial, Est. Rel.) – It's Valentines Day and Sherlock is taking John to Angelo's for dinner. Sherlock also happens to be wearing a garter belt, stockings and a rather small pair of women's underwear under his clothes. There's no dessert at Angelo's because John needs to get Sherlock home just as quickly as he can before they both lose their minds entirely.

How To Give Your Boyfriend Who Doesn't Know He's Your Boyfriend the Best Valentine's Day Ever by unicornpoe (T, 9,832 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Crack, Soft Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock is pretty sure that John Watson is his boyfriend. He's also pretty sure that John doesn't know it. But with a little help from a magazine, some friends, three crepes, five dates, one awesome CD, and a stalker van, John is bound to realize just in time for Valentine's Day.

MARKED FOR LATER

Hope is sweet by Lock_John_Silver (T, 2,977 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, Valentine’s Day, Developing Relationship, Pet Names, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Classical Music, Idiots in Love, Endearments, POV Sherlock) - Sherlock wants to be more than John’s best friend. Has wanted it for ages, truth be told. So, when Molly comes up with an idea, that to some extent involves three year old Rosie, Sherlock doesn’t hesitate.

Worth Its Weight by philalethia (E, 2,986 w., 1 Ch. || Sugar Daddy AU || PWP, Daddy Sherlock, Daddy Kink, Service Domination, Gift Giving, Unsafe Sex, Sex Toys) – “Remember,” John said, “when we talked about you not buying me extravagant things?” Basically: a little bit of Valentine's Day daddy kink. Part 2 of All the Rest 'Verse

The Importance of February 14th by cypress_tree (T, 3,156 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Valentine’s Day) – Sherlock was born on Valentine's Day. John doesn't know this and invites him out on a date. Sherlock assumes it's a birthday celebration and believes so right up until the moment John kisses him.

Dinner and a Murder by vintagelilacs (T, 4,210 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Valentine’s Day, Online Dating, Mutual Pining, Confessions, Getting Together, POV John, Oblivious John) – Reluctant to spend Valentine’s Day alone, John joins a dating app only to realize he’s already living with the closest thing to a soulmate he’s ever going to get.

The Best Idea by SatanDrankMyCoffee (T, 7,252 w.,  5 Ch. || Valentine's Day, Bubble Bath, Hair Washing, People-Watching, Anxiety, Domestic Fluff/Bliss, Texting) – Gift giving is something Sherlock is usually quite good at but when the parameters change, he becomes unsure of himself. Which gift idea is the best idea? Part 3 of A Year in Occasions

Daddy's Darling by distantstarlight (E, 7,747 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Daddy Kink, Valentine’s Day, Smut, First Time) – Disguises are part of the package when you work as detectives, there was nothing new about that but one day Sherlock goes undercover with his best friend and they discover more than the answer to the crime.

Valentine’s Night Out by CarmillaCarmine (E, 10,120 w., 5 Ch. || ASiB Canon Divergence, Valentine’s Day, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Breath Play, Butt Plugs, Deep Throating, Humour, Orgasm Delay / Denial, Anal Sex) – John and Sherlock have been invited to join their friends at a pub for Valentine's Day. Sherlock has plans to spice the evening up a bit. Part 4 of the The Johnlock Holidays and Celebrations Series

The Heart of the Matter by prettysailorsoldier (T, 13,427 w., 1 Ch. || Teenager AU || Secret Admirer, Secret Crush, Texting, Valentine’s Day, Fluff) – It's the annual Valentine's Week fundraiser, carnations, conversation hearts, and singing telegrams (oh my!) making their way around the school corridors, and Sherlock Holmes has quite happily never received any of them. So, when he gets a box of conversation hearts containing a message from a secret admirer, his first instinct is that it's an elaborate practical joke, but, as he and his mystery suitor begin texting, he starts to wonder if there might be something to this Valentine's Day lark after all. There is, however, the entirely unrelated problem of one John Watson to contend with before he can be sure. Part 3 of 221B Mine

Not this year by Imjohnlocked87 (E, 16,293 w., 4 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting ||  Friends to Lovers, Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Smut, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Food Sex, Wall Sex, Angst with Happy Ending) – One month after leaving the rehabilitation centre, when Donovan asks Sherlock if he will be alone on Valentine's Day this year too, he replies he will be spending it with someone special.The only problem is that this someone doesn't exist.Because who would want to have Valentine's date with Sherlock Holmes? 

Quo Fata Vocant by prettysailorsoldier (E, 18,115 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock / Teenlock ||  Librarians, Bisexual John, Flirting, First Time, Tattoos, Valentine’s Day, Secret Admirer, Matchmaker) – Sherlock is enamored with one of the employees at the university library, wiling away hours of his days just to catch a glimpse of the dynamic John Watson: captain of the rugby team, event manager for the LGBT society, and third-year medical student. Of course, being only a first-year, it's unlikely John will ever notice him. At least, until fate (and a little well-intentioned meddling) intervenes.

[lazyrunawayphilosopher]

*slams hands on the table* drop your fave fics rn

Hold my hand (and I'll hold yours)

Kim Dokja and Yoo Jonghyuk are stuck holding hands at school for one week. (This has smut)

Sour then sweet ( This has smut)

Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja ran a lemonade stand as kids. Yoo Joonghyuk made good lemonade but sucked at selling it, so Kim Dokja was his little salesman. Years later, Yoo Joonghyuk is a successful CEO and Kim Dokja is the new employee looking for an entry level job, but Yoo Joonghyuk immediately puts him as sales manager.

Overtime

Kim Dokja, in a very brief moment of stupidity, sees Yoo Jonghyuk and thinks that he has met a kindred soul, a fellow slave to capitalism. Or in other words, a fellow modern day salary worker.

How the might fall (in love)

Yoo Joonghyuk confuses sexual tension with anger issues while Kim Dokja's censored face annoys the life out of him, so he takes matters into his own hands, quite literally, to get rid of it (and it works).

Keep your enemy close and your heart closer(lest it falls in love)

Police Chief Yoo Joonghyuk’s neighbour is one of the city’s most notorious mafia bosses—but he doesn’t have the evidence to prove it.

Study reveals: you can't suffer if you are dead

In which Yoo Jonghyuk takes being a Tsundere to the next level, Kim Dokja is very confused, everyone else is very tired, and help comes from the last place they'd expect it.

Dating Yoo Joonghyuk

Dating Yoo Jonghyuk is like dating a really buff leech.

This is how it feels

“Don’t you dare,” Kim Dokja warns, already tensed. “Don’t you even think–”

The protagonist then proceeds to roll over once more, making Kim Dokja the victim of gravity and a muscle bound terror once more.

“I hate you! Do you even know how much you weigh?! Joonghyuk! Get off!”

Honey,line and sinker ( This has smut)

So Kim Dokja is a pretty little thing.

So Kim Dokja is a pretty little thing that isn't Yoo Joonghyuk's.

The tidal pain of wanting

Kim Dokja is transmigrated into a different world. He's determined to keep to himself and wait for the narrative to reach it's end so he can go home. He doesn't mean to get attached.

He doesn't expect to be loved, either.

Raising a protagonist

In which Kim Dokja learns to hate reading, but he still manages to find his protagonist.

You are the colours to my skies

“I didn’t sign a consent form for this,” Kim Dokja announces, after giving up the valiant struggle.

Yoo Joonghyuk takes his win as what it is, and presses a long, sweet kiss against Kim Dokja’s neck. “You did,” he mumbles. “It was our marriage certificate.”

A king's consort

The Constellations become restless on a fine Friday evening, and take it upon themselves to torture a helpless Kim Dokja by starting an unnecessary scenario.

It’s goal?

For Kim Dokja to be loved.

How foolish.

Yoo Joonghyuk can't be this clingy!

Such close touch gave Yoo Joonghyuk great satisfaction. He could feel each subtle breathing and heartbeat from Kim Dokja. The rise and fall of the chest, as well as the warmth of the body, giving him immense peace of mind.

Faithful fate

[Spoilers up to Ch.310 of the webnovel]

AU where Yoo Joonghyuk got the star in the 46th Scenario and picked a different option.

Would you roll for me if I was on Rate-up?

The three times Kim Dokja made Yoo Joonghyuk jealous of a jpeg. and the one time Yoo Joonghyuk turned the tables on him.

Re calibrating love and logic

Yu Junghyeok and Kim Dokja are dating; he just doesn't know it yet.

Can't dream alone

5 times (?) Kim Dokja tried to help Yoo Joonghyuk rest + 1 time it's Yoo Joonghyuk's turn (?).

Darling dance

In which an assassin slow dances with his target crown prince

The casualty of casual touch

Kim Dokja knew something about their relationship had changed when Yoo Joonghyuk began assailing him with casual touch.

Human and something like magic(it's love)

At least you celebrate your birthday, Kim Dokja had thought, before banishing the thought entirely. No use harping on it and letting his cheap, one-day expired convenience store cake taste bitter on his own birthdays.

The fox and the snake

A godling snake of the forest piques the interest of a fox.

Figuratively and literally

Sequel to dealing with the duke by baked m potato.

home, an irrevocable condition

Kim Dokja would rather die than let Yoo Joonghyuk know where he works. And he succeeds. At least for two full years.

the art of getting caught-a guide by kim dokja

4 times kim dokja and yoo joonghyuk were found in compromising positions, and 1 time they were actually getting it on

The story in a sunset

Yu Junghyeok used to think he'd learnt everything about himself already. Now he knows that, ever since they'd met, he's only ever wanted answers Kim Dokja could give.

There are more but these are ones I highly recommend.

[weasleywinchester]

I Can't Help Myself - Ch. 5

Leaving Just You Picture Behind

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4| Ch.6

What is this thing called free time??? I managed to write another chapter for this series! I can't believe it's almost done!! And before the show comes out this month!! We get a little time jumpy in this chapter, mainly because I am following the timeline of the games. We also go from super cute parent/ellie vibes to sad vibes. mainly because I don't want to write the sad ending, but the little thing in my brain says I should... so I'm going to write sad ending and happy ending because this is my fic and yall are going to have to choose what ending you want to read, of course you can always read both. Thank you to everyone who's given this series a read, I love seeing you make your way through each chapter! And still taggin @sarahbellesaurus because you liked part 4 so here's part 5!

Series Summary:

This world isn’t kind to anyone; and heaven forbid anyone wants a slice of happiness. You wanted the stereotypical, as most people would tell you, dream of falling in love, getting married and having kids. After coming to Jackson, you kept that dream to yourself. Until your stupid best friend’s stupidly handsome older brother waltzes in, and you tell him. Joel thinks it's nice that you can hold onto a dream like that... and he let's his guard down just long enough to think maybe...he might want that too.

Chapter Summary: Thankful, Grateful, Blessed. In the world before it almost felt like those words haunted you; from stores to friends houses to birthday gifts. And then once the infection hit, it felt like the mocked you as you scavenged through houses, trying to survive. But maybe now, the could be some of the few words to describe your life. Warnings: All the feels, TLOU Pt. 2 spoilers, fighting (vocal and physical), illusions to death

A Year Later

“Momma!” Ellie shouts as she lets herself into the house.

“Upstairs!” You shout back. You can hear her take the steps two at a time, slowing as she reaches the doorway to your office.

“What’s shakin’ sugarpie?” You look up from the quilt you’re making, giving her a little smile.

“Where’s Billy?” She nods to the empty playpen next to your desk.

“He’s with Joel and Tommy.” You chuckle, kicking a pile of fabric off a stool so she can sit down.

“Bit young for a boys day out.” She softly chuckles.

“Never too early to get them out of my hair. But what did you want to ask me?” Your sewing machine softly whirs as you continue your project.

“I was talkin with Cat… about getting a tattoo.” She shrugs. Lots of people in town had them, and Cat was a pretty amazing tattoo artist. She learned from her uncle, who was an artist before the infection.

“Over the acid burn?” You nod. It was something you both had talked about. Ellie found it absolutely hilarious that you had a tiny knife tattoo on your middle finger, and ever since she saw it she wanted a tattoo.

“Ya… I was hoping you’d help me design one.” Your machine stops and Ellie looks up to see your look of surprise.

“Really?” You ask, the corners of your mouth gently tugging into a smile.

“Ya. You’re an amazing artist, with some of the best designs. And I want it to be a reminder.” She swallows hard, eyes focusing on the floor.

“Reminder of…” you prod.

“Of my family.” She shrugs again.

“I love that.” You smile, quickly packing up everything on your desk so you have space to work. You tell Ellie to throw a record on, while you pull out all your art books. You both flip through pictures, tabbing things that catch your eye.

“You still have your wedding dress?” Ellie asks as she flips through an old catalog. 

“Ya, in the closet. Why?”

“It had a fern design didn’t it?” She looks over to you, a smile slowly appearing. You quickly dig it out, putting it on the table. Both of you draw a few variations and compare.

“Think this one.” She points to one of hers. The fern is fully inked in, many tiny leaves on each stem.

“Ok, one piece down.” You sloppily recreate it on your own sketchbook, doodling around it.

“So you have a piece of me… maybe a piece of the mom you never got to meet?” You ask gently. Ellie nods slowly, trying to rack her brain for something.

“What about something like this?” You turn your book to her. You’ve drawn a different type of fern, but this one is just a simple outline. “Mine’s filled in, because we’ve gotten to live a life together, we’ve filled in a lot of gaps. Hers is an outline, a life lived before and for you, but not with you.”

Ellie gently reaches for your book, fingers gently tracing the outline. She hardly thought about her birth mom lately, only turning to her journal in empty nights alone.

“Do you ever think about her?” Ellie asks.

“I do.” Ellie’s eyes flick to your face. “I only know what you’ve shared. But somewhere deep in my bones I can feel her; mainly guiding me through your temper. I hope wherever she is, she’s content with how Joel and I have tried to take care of you.”

Ellie soaks in your words. She thought about what her mom might say to Joel, how she would thank him for keeping her safe. Or maybe how she’d lay into him for stopping the fireflies. But she hadn’t thought what would happen if she met you. A stranger that was the only one who ever felt like home.

“She’d be thankful, for everything. Much like I am.” Ellie pats your hand.

“Thanks Sugarpie.” You lay your hand on top, taking a deep breath in. “Feel like you need one more piece.”

“I already know what it is.” She sighs.

_______

“How’s your ink?” Joel chuckles. The dirt crutches beneath his feet as he guides you along the patrol route.

“Healin’ nicely.” You pull him down to you, kissing him on the cheek. He gently takes your arm, turning it to reveal your tattoos.

“Can’t believe my own son stole my nickname.” He playfully grumbles as his fingers gently caress the little bumble bee that sits on top of a lavender flower.

“Who else could ever be worthy?” You giggle.

“I guess that’s true.” He gives you a kiss, letting his lips linger for just a second more. It’s the moments like these that he remembers best. The way you smile at him, how you dance in the sunlight, the way the breeze carries you laugh.

“Have you seen Ellie’s?” You quietly ask, threading your fingers through his.

“Much bigger than both of yours.” He nods. It wasn’t much of a shock that she got one, she always liked the one on your finger. He was a little surprised it wasn’t anything Savage Starlight related though.

“We designed it together.” You tell him, “You like the moth?”

“Reminds me of the one on my guitar.” He flashes a smile, pulling your hand up to his lips and kissing the tips of your fingers.

“‘Cause it is.” You whisper. His eyes narrow at you, not sure what you’re playing at. “All I’m sayin’ is don’t stop trying. She’s comin around. There’s too much between you to let that all go forever.” You press your lips to his, smiling when he pulls you close.

"And you didn't want a matchin' one?" He chuckles.

"And miss the opportunity to permanently adorn my skin with a Joel Miller original weapon design?" You laugh, flashing the little pipe with scissors taped to the top.

"Only you Darlin'." He shakes his head, grabbing you and smothering you in a kiss.

_______ 

A Year Later

“(Y/N), your terror is pullin’ on the lights again!” Tommy shouts from the top of his ladder.

“Mmm, can’t help it if Billy loves his uncle!” You shout from behind the bar. You look around at the team putting together the dance hall. It looks so magical with all the lights strung everywhere, the warm glow of the fire.

“Come here munchkin.” Ellie sighs, picking him up as he giggles in excitement. He wraps his little arms around her, trying to grab her hair that’s been scraped into a ponytail. She moves it out of the way, giving him a silent no.

"Pie!" He giggles as her fingers tickle his sides.

"Got you booger." She chuckles as he giggles louder.

“We gunna see you at the dance tonight?” You ask, leaning around her to smile at Billy. He gives you a toothy grin, tucking his head into his sister's neck.

“Uh… maybe” Ellie shrugs. Things have been a little less tense with Joel, she’s managed to keep herself in line for the sake of you and Billy;  but she still tries to keep her distance. “Who’s babysittin?”

“Molly next door. She said she wants practice.” You chuckle as Billy reaches for you. You take him from her, bouncing him as you hand Tommy the rest of the lights.

“I heard Dina is newly single.” You say low enough for only her to hear. She hums in acknowledgment, which makes you smile. They were always friends but Ellie started lookin at her a bit differently after Dina started hopping from boyfriend to boyfriend, and yet always ended up stumbling to Ellie’s every time she broke up with them.

“Remember what I told you the night Joel proposed?”

“That you love us?” She smartly remarks. You shake your head and lean over to her.

“That you have to dance with the people you love at least once.” You wink.

_______

“I don’t need your help Joel!” Ellie yells. You quickly make your way around the bar, closing the space between you and him but he quickly turns and brushes past you.

“Joel!” You call after him, your body following but your eyes glued on Ellie. You give her an apologetic look, running after your husband. As you stumble outside you see Joel making his way toward home, but Maria is standin' across the street with-

“Seth!” You yell, calmly walking over to him.

“You gunna claim her as yours you need to get her-” He spits as you slam your shin right into his crotch before he can finish.

“(Y/N)!” Maria warns. You ignore her, throwing a jab to his eye and the heel of your hand up his nose. The force is enough to knock him flat on his ass, the snow around dotted with red.

“Stay away from my daughter you jackass!” You scream, kicking him for good measure and running off to find your husband.

“Joel!” You shout after him, jogging as fast as you can to catch him.

“She’s made it clear she doesn’t want anything to do with me.” He yells over his shoulder.

“That’s not true…”

“Then what the hell was that in there?” He whips around so fast you startle, tripping over your own feet and landing flat on your ass.

“Ow.” You wince.

“Sorry Darlin.” Joel sighs, helping you to your feet. He helps brush the snow off you, grunting as you wrap yourself around him. You put your chin on his chest and wait until he looks down at you.

“She’s trying to figure out where she fits in Honeybunch. And it constantly feels like it’s not here.” Joel pulls your hood up, tightening the cords as he mulls over your words. “She came to the dance…”

“Not for us.”

“No teenager goes to a community function for family. Does that matter anyways? Not everyone can be as… lucky as us. She’s gotta find her way, in her own time.” You pucker your lips at him, which makes him roll his eyes as he gives you a kiss.

“How do you do that?” He mumbles against your mouth.

“What?” You smile against his.

“Get my head out of my ass.” He presses another kiss to your lips, his tongue gently sliding along the seam of yours, both of you humming happily as your tongues tangle.

 “I was coming to see if y’all were ok, and clearly you are.” Tommy chuckles. You begrudgingly unseal your mouth from Joel, shooting Tommy a glare.

“Momma!” Billy lurches in Tommy’s arms for you.

“Come here honey bee.” You take Billy, laughing as he burrows his face in your neck.

“I’ll meet you back at the house.” You tell Joel, tilting your head for his kiss goodbye.

“Want me to take Billy?” He gives you a quick peck, gently rustling Billy's hair.

“Nah, we’re gunna go see Sugarpie.” You tell Billy, who gives a small yea in response. Joel gives you a curt nod, walking back inside with Tommy. You watch for a minute and then quickly make the trek home.

You knock on Ellie’s door, happy when she lets you in.

“I have an early patrol.” She states.

“And I have half a mind to smack you.” You cheerfully tell her as you set Billy on her bed.

“I don’t need his help.” She huffs, sitting at her desk.

“I know, and it doesn’t matter.” You sit on the crate across from her. “Ellie, he’s your dad for all intents and purposes. He’s always going to want to help you, protect you, be there for you. None of that stops simply because you want it to.” You watch as she picks at a loose thread on her pants.

“Sugar, we don’t know when our last days are. Don’t let the last words you say to people you love be ones you regret.��� You gently put your hand on her arm. Her green eyes turn to you, knowing that, like usual, you’re right.

_______

The Next Morning

“Hey, I gotta stop at the house.” Ellie tells Dina as they make their way to the stables.

“Ya, sure.” Dina shrugs following after her. Ellie slowly makes her way up the porch, letting herself in.

“Pie!” Billy yells in delight from the living room.

“Hey B.” She gives him a kiss as you come around the corner.

“His shift already started.”

“You responsible for the black eye?” Ellie questions. Maria made Seth apologize to her this morning, not that it did anything to make her feel better. It did warm Ellie's heart to see Seth's big black eye. Maria wouldn’t say who did it, which meant it wasn't Tommy or Joel. And of course Seth would have told everyone if it was Joel, and he would never admit if you were the one to beat him up.

“That all he walked away with?” You frown, trying your best to keep your smile at bay. Ellie rolls her eyes, wrapping you in a hug.

“Think your route crosses path with his, maybe say hello…” You give her one last squeeze before letting her go.

“You mean sorry.”

“Smarter then you look sugarpie.” You pat her shoulder and spin her toward the door. “Make sure to stay warm, keep your eyes peeled.”

“Do you think he would... want to watch a movie tonight?” Ellie quietly asks, opening the door and giving you one last hug.

“I think he’d love that.” You smile, waving to Dina, who flashes a smile. Ellie quickly walks down the stairs, turning to give you one last wave.

“Watch her Dina!” You yell. You assume Ellie rolled her eyes by the way Dina laughs.

_______

“(Y/N)!”

You turn to see Jeremy running toward you, a look of worry on his face.

“Jer, what’s wrong?” You catch him as he slows to a stop.

“Jesse radioed in, Joel and Tommy never checked in. And there were strangers spotted not too far out of town.”

“Ellie?”

“Jesse went to find her and Dina. They’re going to cover the route, figured you’d want to be on the scout team too.”

You can feel the panic rise in your chest; you take Jeremy by the hand and run into the barn.

“Woah there-” Maria chuckles.

“Can you watch Billy?” You ask, trying your best to saddle your horse.

“(Y/N)... what’s wrong?”

“Can you watch Billy?” You ask louder.

“Ya sure.” She nods, backing up as you mount your horse and take off on the trail. You ride hard to the ridge that surrounds the mountain lodge; it was a place that Joel and Tommy frequented when they wanted to play their instruments in peace. You’re not sure why they would end up there in this bad weather, but something was telling you to start there. As you reach the ridge you leave your horse in a nearby stable.

Jeremy managed to keep up, quietly following you as you scuttle toward the edge. You belly crawl the rest of the way, using the scope of your gun to see down below.

“Anything?” Jeremy whispers.

“Two of our horses, lots of people outside. Burned infected at the gate” You whisper back.

“Clear up here.” He confirms. You can feel him sit by your feet, his back to you so he can keep watch.

You try to calm your breathing, watching as the people outside patrol the lodge. Your scope moves to the large windows at the front, and you can see him. You watch as a girl not much older than Ellie shoots Joel in the leg. You jerk, feeling Jeremy keep you in place.

“What’s happening?” He harshly whispers.

“Joel’s been shot.” You push past your teeth. You watch, seeing the flash of something silver come in contact with Joel’s face. That’s when you see her. Her little brown pony tail poking out of her hood. Ellie, get out of there.

“Be ready.” you whisper, taking a deep breath in and cocking your gun. You hear Jeremy do the same. The girl winds up once more and you pull the trigger. The shot rings out, scaring the horses below and sending the guards scrambling. You manage to shoot several of them, the pure white snow now a river of red.

You turn back to the lodge window, seeing two people dragging the girl, one dragging Ellie and two more dragging Joel. You let two more shots fly; one hits one of the people dragging Joel and the other gets the person dragging Ellie right in the neck.

“Jeremy?” you whisper, panic rising in your throat.

“Clear.” He whispers back.

You let a few more shots fly until the group drops Joel and Ellie, fleeing into their vehicles. You scramble back from the hillside and dig out your radio.

“Heather, do you copy?”

“Copy.”

“Lodge trail. Light it up NOW.” You yell. Jeremy peels you away, leading you back to the horses. You can hear gunshots in the distance, hoping that it did some damage. You quickly ride down to the lodge, staying close to Jeremy as you both make it inside. He does a quick sweep, coming for you when it’s clear.

You hear her before you see them, her sobs bouncing off the walls and deep into your skull.

“Ellie.” You engulf her in your arms, blood smearing across your jacket as you try to calm her.

“Back-up is on the way.” Jeremy whispers, keeping his eyes on the windows.

“Move her into the next room, away from the windows.” You command, pushing Ellie into Jeremy’s arms. Her scream is like a baby being ripped away from their parents, you can feel it vibrate your bones. Calm, stay calm. You take a deep breath and turn to Joel. He’s bloody, his shallowing breathing matching the pace of your heart.

“(Y/N)?”

You turn to see Tommy slumped against the wall.

“We got people on the way.” you nod.

_______

“Ellie?”

You startle at the unexpected voice, moving to your hiding spot along the wall.

“Shit.” You hear two sets of feet scramble, immediately going to Joel.

“Dina? Jesse?” You stand up, your brain not quite believing your eyes.

“(Y/N), what the fuck happened?” Jesse asks, arms reaching for you.

“Ellie’s in the next room, grab her and get back to Jackson. She’s a little roughed up but she’ll make it.” You rub his arms, like a mom warming up her kid from the cold.

“Joel…” Dina asks.

“Can’t do anything until the cavalry is here." You glance at him, "Please, take Ellie and ride as fast as you can.” You swallow both of them in a hug. You take a deep shaky breath, gasping to keep the sob inside.

“I’ll stay.” Jesse whispers. “Dina can take Ellie.” 

“No! No.” You take both of them and lead them to the next room. “You have to watch each other, we don’t know if anyone is hanging around.” You gently shake Ellie, helping her stand and handing her off to Dina.

“We’ll make sure to put the whole town on alert.” Dina nods, helping Ellie out of the lodge. Jesse gives you one last hug, handing you his snacks and jogging after his friends.

_______

The mumbling. You’ve always hated when people talked in hushed tones, as if you didn’t know what they were talking about, or who. It didn’t help that the storm outside had settled, leaving the trees to groan in the silence, the snow to snapping the weakest limbs.

“(Y/N).” Jeremy’s voice is gentle, his hand resting on your shoulder. Your voice is lost in your throat; so you simply turn your head toward him.

“We have to move him.”

Your eyes turn back to Joel, his lungs wheezing with every breath. Silent tears blur your vision, a fat drop falling on Joel’s sleeve as you nod. 

Jeremy helps you to stand, making a note that you’ll need a set of new clothes before you go back to town. You’d scare the shit out of everyone with how much blood you have down the front of you. A few people come in with a stretcher, staring at the state Joel is in.

“Be careful.” Jeremy tells them, snapping everyone out of their daze. The four of you move Joel, trying your best to be quick and gentle.

“Blankets.” You mumble, gathering the few that were found in the cupboards and wrapping Joel. The two gently lift the stretcher and take him outside where the covered wagon is waiting.

“Ready?” Jeremy asks.

“Be right up.” You swallow hard. You listen as his footsteps fade down the hall, the door quietly closing. You look up to see the golf clubs still sitting in their bag. You walk over, taking out the one with the biggest head. You twirl it around, feel the weight of it in your hands, and start swinging.

[xoxoemynn]

for the random fic questions: what is your favorite scene and chapter in WTDB?

Ooooh this is a fun one, thank you!

Favorite chapter is chapter five. That was when I got to take Lighthouse Sanctuary from magical to ✨MAGIC✨, which was SO much fun. Before that point I didn't want to overdo it because I wanted it to be a somewhat gradual reveal of just what the house is capable of; I wanted the tone to be whimsical, so it felt like the house was special in that it was touched by magic, not that they lived in a Big Magical Universe. But it was Ed's birthday, you know I think Ed deserves to be spoiled silly, and it was so much fun to find both magical and mundane ways to make him feel special and loved by everyone at the Sanctuary. Plus that's also where the romance really stepped up, and we all know that's what we're here for.

Favorite scene is harder and honestly I may change my mind two minutes after posting this. (Update: actually changed my mind in the middle of writing this.) But I actually have two to highlight here for different reasons:

1) The big climactic moment in Ch. 9 (which I'm being vague about because I don't want to spoil in case anyone is still planning on reading), because that was planning from the very beginning and I was really proud of how it turned out. I wanted a big, epic, magical moment where Ed and Stede had a longlasting and transformative impact on the place and people they loved as a result of their choices, and seeing that all come together still makes my heart glow.

2) Completely opposite, but the concert scene was not at all planned and I also loved it. I was stuck on that chapter for a while because it just needed something. Some more romance, preferably with Ed initiating, something with the crew, something to give the chapter some more impact besides being expositional/transitional. I came up with the idea while walking Daphne and had to leave myself a voice memo and was like "this is either going to be REALLY cheesy or it's going to work." And I think it worked. It was really important to me when writing WTDB that the entire crew shared in the spotlight, and that it wasn't just about Ed finding love with Stede, but with this whole family, and that scene captured that. Also, Stede's revelation in that chapter was NOT planned and surprised even myself -- I was planning on it coming later -- but it happened and it felt right and I'm so pleased with it.

Thank you so much for these, lovely! It was so nice to think about this story. 💖

[aparticularbandit]

🌹

🌹🌹🌹

...

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

(I'm being aggressive and I'm only a little sorry)

for every “🌹” received in my inbox i’ll post one random sentence of a random WIP i’m currently writing

oh, fuck you. (affectionate)

READ MORE BECAUSE YOU GET NINETEEN OF THESE. JOKE'S ON YOU. HAH!

...but also a table of contents for anyone else who might want to creep in on these:

Dark!Eve

Agatha Birthday fic

Take A Sad Song and Make It Better Ch. 3

Post-Finding Family Agatha - Stephen Encounter

The Haunting of Westview Manor

What Dreams May Come Ch. ???

Mexican Stud (Epic Superhero Crossover Book 1)

Collateral Damage (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???)

The House on Ridge Road (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???)

Dottie as Sin Rostro

Love is Not a Victory March (Roisa Soulmate Timer Book 4)

Clara Ruvelle and the Heir of Slytherin (Roisa HP AU Book 2)

A Christmas Hideaway (Roisa Hallmark Holiday Special Reversal)

Roisa Grinchmas Special (this one’s in rhyme!)

On Myths and Hideouts Ch. ???

On Myths and Hideouts Jess Prequel

Paradise Lost post-canon

Timeless/Noir fusion

The Story of a Girl (Noir fic; Title pending) Ch. 3 - “Shielded by Black Robes”

Dark!Eve:

It’s boring when they don’t struggle.

Dottie’s let her practice on her some, let her bind her hands together, made sure she’s tying her victims down properly, grinned around the gag pressed into her lips, and just stared without making any noise as Eve’s explored. She’s learned – you can’t just rip someone’s fingernail off.  That hurts, sure, but you want to extend the pain.  Start with something small and then build.  You shove splinters and nails under their fingernails first, then you rip them off, if you want, provided there are other nails that you can do the same thing with.

Dismembering usually isn’t necessary.  The people they send her after break long before then, which is good, because she’s never actually gotten to try the dismembering thing. She can’t just cut one of Dottie’s toes off.  Besides breaking a bone is better than cutting it off because then you can still peel the skin back with a knife later.  If you remove stuff, it should be teeth, pried out with pliers.  Sure, they can’t grow back, but there’s not really much more you can do with teeth.

The thing about playing with Dottie is that she doesn’t break, which is fine, really, although she’s pretended to break so that Eve gets the idea of what that’s like, but Dottie is intentionally unbreakable so that Eve can deal with her own frustration when torture just doesn’t seem to go the way it’s supposed to go.  But also playing with Dottie usually ends up in—

She can’t think about that right now.  She needs to focus.

Eve picks at her teeth with the tip of her knife, fitting it carefully beside her canine with a little creak.

Maybe it’s the gag.

Agatha Birthday fic:

It literally goes wrong from the moment Eve wakes up.

Agatha refuses – absolutely refuses – to answer her phone.  Which, you know, on a normal day, that’s just fine.  Agatha has a life.  She has a job.  She’s juggling a lot of things all at once, and sometimes it takes a bit before she can call Eve back if she missed her call.  Usually, when she knows it’s going to be a while before she can call back, she shoots Eve a text to let her know, to check and see if the conversation is something that can happen over text (most of the time, yes, but not always).

But on her birthday?  None of that. No returned phone calls.  No texts.  No texts back, either, when Eve texts her. Just very clear and complete avoidance.

Now.

Eve likes to consider herself a good girlfriend.  She isn’t particularly worried that something has happened to Agatha; she’s too aware of the date for that and figures that Agatha is just hiding. (On a normal day, yes, she would be worried.  This is not a normal day.)  It isn’t like she didn’t do the same on her worst day ever, when Jane wasn’t available as a distraction (for very good reason), but even she had reached out to Agatha.  Eventually. When she’d desperately needed someone there and hadn’t—

Look, Eve understands needing to hole up and mourn, but it is Agatha’s birthday, and Agatha needs her, and Agatha would never admit that she needs her, so she’s going to go pound on Agatha’s door and barge in and make her feel better.  As soon as she gets off of work.  With the hope that Agatha is actually home.

Take A Sad Song and Make It Better Ch. 3:

The thing about hospitals is that—

Well.  There’s a lot of things about hospitals, and we really don’t have quite the time to get into all of that.  Andi’s still out, which does give us a fair amount of time, but I highly suspect that you would prefer to get back to the action, back to the fam, back to the search for the envelope to determine whether or not that they might find it.

Give me a moment.

The thing about hospitals is this: If you have an emergency contact listed with them, then when something happens to you, they call your emergency contact. Regardless of whether or not someone else is there with you, your emergency contact is the person who has the right to make decisions about your life when you are unconscious, the way that Andi currently is.  It’s just simple protocol.

And here’s the thing about that – up until just recently, Claire was Andi’s emergency contact.  Claire knew that.  Claire knows that.  It hasn’t crossed her mind, however, that when Andi reached the hospital they did not call her.  Duke did, but the hospital didn’t.

Because once Claire lied on the stand, Andi took some time to herself. Reconsidered a few things.

And changed her emergency contact.

Post-Finding Family Agatha - Stephen Encounter (because it got prompted):

She told herself she would never actually go in the New York Sanctum again, after that last time, but the problem with telling herself that is knowing that, well.  As long as she literally had an apartment right next door.  Inevitably.

But honestly, she had a rent controlled apartment in New York City.  Sure, sure, she could use magic to override her landlord’s mind and make it completely free (and, sure, she might have already done that once or twice over the past few decades, when whoever inherited the building tried to fuck around with her (How can you be the same resident from over a century ago?  That’s not possible! – Dear, you live on a planet of superheroes that gets visited by aliens, and you think you have some normal human being just hanging out in this apartment?  That you can boss around?  This is why New York gets attacked by every new wannabe villain; it’s not the Worf Effect or a symbol or anything – it’s entitled landlords not remembering that people with powers exist and can punch the ever-loving shit out of them when they get pissed off.  Almost as bad as working in customer service.  Yeesh)) – but what would be the fun in that?  She’s not Wanda, after all.  She doesn’t need everything to go her way all of the time.

Admittedly, Wanda is the reason she’s here in the first place.  Something about America and Wendy being part of this new Baby Vengeance team or something like that (she knows the real name, but she enjoys seeing the frustration in Wanda’s expression when she refuses to use the right term, loves seeing her pinch the bridge of her nose, delights when, eventually, Wanda says, “I’m not even going to correct you anymore, Agatha; I know you’re doing this on purpose” and still sighing with exasperation anyway); something about how they’ve been gone for far too long this time. That thin tremor under her voice that suggests just how worried she’s trying not to be.

For a witch able to control the very fabric of reality in this universe, Wanda has gotten surprisingly good at not sticking her nose into everybody else’s business.

Why would she need to do that when she has Agatha to do it for her?

(In most cases, Agnes would be better, but they can’t get Agnes without having America open a portal to that universe she and Ash are shacking up in, so she’s the next best thing. Besides.  She has centuries of being the New York Sanctum’s nosy neighbor.  It’s just a shame that Cian is no longer here to see it.)

The Haunting of Westview Manor (aka THOHH/THOBM and WandaVision infusion):

She’d always had a hard time sleeping in Westview Manor.

Or.

Well.

She’d always had a hard time sleeping starting with Westview Manor.

She remembers, in flickering fragmented memories, moments before her family had moved into the not-yet-decrepit manor, but they’re few and far between.  Her time living there had so shaped and shifted everything else that it is hard to reach back to earlier, simpler, happier times.  Times when she could sleep and dream of something good – like flying into a sky full of stars and reaching out to each one in turn, hoping to make friends with them. Times that she hadn’t had since—

Well, since Westview Manor.

She’d always had a hard time sleeping in Westview Manor, even before things went bad, and she’d always had a hard time sleeping after Westview Manor, even now when things could almost be called good.

It’s the closest to good she’d had in a long…in a really long time, actually.

But we’re not there yet.  We’re still looking at Westview Manor, we’re still looking at her, slumbering, trying to slumber, and shifting beneath her blankets, unable to stay still, turning this way and that, tangling herself in them, hands gripping her throat until she sits up, gasping for air, blankets falling to her waist.  Back then, she was only a child, brown hair nearly down to her waist if it was ever let free, although she cut it off a few days later, not liking the way it could so easily catch on anything – everything – around the manor.  She always felt like something was reaching out for her, grabbing and tugging on her hair with thin spindly fingers, and it didn’t matter that she would turn and see a statue with a bow or something like that, she still felt like it was someone and not something.

What Dreams May Come Ch. ???:

You are you and you are aware of yourself and you are aware of nothing at all.

Your name is Viola Lloyd, nee Willoughby, or something like it.

Your name is Viola Lloyd.  The year is 1680.  You are at Bly Manor.  Your daughter, Isabel, is five years old.  Your husband is gone on one of his business trips.  The money is running out.

And your sister wants you dead.

You have lived in this room – in your room, you know this room, you know it well, you know it from the way you have paced it so often, so often since you have taken up space within your host’s body – and yet you do not have a host.  You are you and you are yourself and you are nothing at all.

For the past five years, you have been stuck in this room, barely leaving it and being forced back into it when you do by family who are afraid that you will infect them or even more afraid that you will somehow ruin the image your daughter has of you.  This angers you – a rage that has been building over the past five years, not just from this alone – a rage that, it appears, has not left you, even in death. Your daughter remembers you as nothing else but this.  Why should seeing you at your worst make her hate you?  She has only ever seen you like this.

And this?

You know now.

This is not your worst.

Mexican Stud (Epic Superhero Crossover Book 1):

Joan clasps one hand over the hollow where her left eye once was – or she tries to, but it isn’t as hollow as movies and books would lead her to assume.  The bulb that was once her eye is splattered, blood covering her face, the sheets, probably the face of the woman who had been lying above her – but none of this matters.  The only thing that matters is the nerve she now holds in her hand and the popped vessel at its very tip and the incomparable pain pulsing behind where her eye once was.

She doesn’t scream.

Her throat is torn raw, but she doesn’t scream.  She shivers as the pulsing slows down, sparks flying about her fingertips. The rings she’d been wearing – the rings the other woman made to ground her – are smashed, shattered much in the same vein as her eye is, and their metal edges feel shoved into the flesh of her thumbs, her middle fingers.  There’s probably blood there, too.  She can’t tell.

Joan takes a deep breath and sits up in the bed, still cradling what was once her eye in one hand, trying to clasp it to the hollow where it once lay, and it’s only then that she notices how far the electric jolt has carried Rose.  No longer is the redhead on the bed with her; instead, she has been thrown across the room by the force of the blast, and she sits crumpled on the floor beneath a wall that looks cracked by the weight of her. One of her hands cradles her head.

“Was it worth it?” Joan asks, her voice raw, rasping.  She can’t keep the venom, the bitterness out of her voice, even as Rose looks up with a blood-spattered face.  “Was this what you wanted?”

Rose doesn’t say anything at first, and Joan is certain that’s because there is nothing left to say.  With her free hand, Joan tries to prop herself up so that she can move from Rose’s bed, but the hollow where her eye once was throbs.  She takes a deep breath, her free hand gripping the edge of the mattress so tight that her knuckles turn a bright white.  A tile from the ceiling drops with a loud clang between them, but neither of them jump.

“I can fix this.”

Joan starts to whirl to face Rose, but the movement makes her stomach clench.  Her teeth grit together.  “What?”

Rose struggles to her feet.  “I can fix this.”

Joan stares over the other woman’s naked body with her one remaining good eye, and she chokes back a sound that could either be a laugh or a sob. She intends for it to be the former, but she’s in so much pain that the latter wouldn’t be unimaginable at this point. “You can fix this?” she snarls.  “I’m missing an eye!”

Collateral Damage (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???) (Luisa/Wendy backstory/interlude/etc.):

“Rose?”

It has been three months since the accident.  She didn’t like to think about it in public if she didn’t have to, and for those first few days, she had holed herself up in what was their apartment, because no matter where she went it felt like everything playing on every television in every restaurant or train station or anywhere that had a television on playing in the background was that recurring footage and the big white letters on the blue background: SUPERVILLAIN THE GHOST KILLED IN EXPLOSIVE FIGHT WITH—

The rest didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter who had killed Rose (it was an accident, the reporters said; there were no witnesses), only that she was destroyed so completely that all that was left of her were her teeth and an imprint of her on a wall otherwise covered with shadow and ash.  There hadn’t been any body for her to identify, hadn’t been any call for her to come to the morgue, hadn’t been any funerary arrangements or urns or anything – just POOF! and then the love of her life was gone.

Luisa stared at the redheaded woman standing just in front of her, and her breath catches in her throat because Rose was dead.  But, then, maybe that was why Whitney had directed her to this hair salon to get her hair done instead of her normal one. Maybe Whitney knew something she didn’t.

But, no, before the girl could even say anything, Luisa was convinced that this couldn’t be Rose. She was too young.  Far too young.  (Okay, maybe not that young – she looked the same way, perhaps, that Rose should have when they first met, if Rose hadn’t been changing her appearance to fit how she thought she should look.)  Her blue eyes were brighter, calmer than the tempests that had often been in the midst of Rose’s, and the freckles on her face stood out more starkly beneath her make-up.  Rose had always tried to change her face enough to cover them up, to not have them at all unless Luisa specifically requested them, but this girl didn’t seem to mind hers at all.

And she was—

“No, I’m Wendy,” the girl said, and her voice made Luisa’s heart ache.  “But if you’d like to see someone else, I can arrange for that. You had an appointment, didn’t you? You’re Miss—”

“Alver, yes, I had an appointment, a friend of mine set it up for me, and no, don’t get someone else, I….”  Luisa took a deep breath to steady herself and looked up to meet the younger girl’s eyes. “You just look so much like someone I used to know.”

The House on Ridge Road (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???) (Dottie Backstory):

You run a hand through her hair.

Present tense – run – when it happens, you’re present; when you remember, you’re present – you understand the past and the future as detached concepts, but you are present in them and within them; you remember and you relive.

You run a hand through her hair.

It’s soft, softer than her hair has any right to be after hours, days, years of being pinned up, sprayed into place, not one strand moving unless you – you, yourself, or someone like you, but there is no one like you, only weak men who fail beneath your own prowess – force them to move.  Her hair is soft and smells of roses.  That’s the bathwater.  You scented it, before—

You scent it and run your fingers through the warm water as you sit on the edge of the tub, rippling, rippling, rippling.

There are no candles.  She doesn’t like candles.  She caught you once playing with the flame – baby lightning in a bottle – sometimes you burn your fingers – Peggy doesn’t like candles or maybe she just doesn’t like it when the skin of your fingers feels raw from playing with them, doesn’t like the way your skin grows back and heals all too easily and the rawness is gone in only moments, doesn’t like the abilities your people stole from vials they were never meant to have.

You’re weaker, in that regard, than the boy she lost years ago.  You know his name, but not because she wants you to know it. She tore it at you, screamed—

She tears it at you, screams it, louder than anything – “He’s a better man than you will ever grow to be” – and you let her say it because she means it and because she needs to say it and you brush the dust of broken plaster walls from your dress and wipe a track of blood from just above your right eye and pop your right shoulder back into place and you stare at her, chest heaving, face all rage and hate, and you know it’s just redirected at the nearest person and that person just happens to be you—

You can take it.  She needs to get the venom out.  All out.

When you look again, her hands are no longer clenched into defensive, aggressive fists; her fingers brush those loose strands of hair back into place; she’ll be sore tomorrow, but she’s not bloodied the way you are.  If you were a normal person, you would have a black eye, but you aren’t a normal person, no matter how much they force you to act like one until they need you.

You rotate your shoulder and it hurts but not too terribly.  You like the pain.

“Are you done now, Peg?  Get it all out?”

Dottie as Sin Rostro:

Time off.

The words are a nuisance for Dottie Underwood, who would far prefer to be sitting in a lair waiting for instructions or set up on location, gathering intelligence or preparing for a hit under yet another alias.  Even the name she used now wasn’t the one she was born with, not that it much mattered.  Crime lords and their best associates rarely used their real names – Elena di Nola was Mutter and her second-in-command was Sin Rostro, whoever happened to be wearing the name on any given day.  Sometimes it was Elena; sometimes it was her son, Derek; sometimes it was her daughter, a woman Dottie had never met; and sometimes, on the rare occurrence that the other two were not available and Elena wanted a proxy, Dottie herself would wear the name.

Names on names on names.

She wasn’t even Dottie anymore now.  When the word slowly grew more and more associated with insanity, she’d needed something a little more sane, a little more…consistent.

Not that it mattered during time off.

She’d painted her hair a bright red to match the blood of her nails and her lips, heightening and contrasting her pale skin, her ice blue eyes.  Some might use smaller terms to describe her – attractive, pretty, hot – and she hated that last one in comparison with the others she’d grown accustomed to in the earlier years – alluring, magnetic, mesmerizing.  Hypnotic.  But she wasn’t looking for words when she walked into the bar, as amusing as the murmurs and the collective hush were.

It was the eyes suddenly trained to her that made her blood rise, the heads tilted in her direction and following her every move that started the bubbling giggle clasped in the back of her throat, the turning of bodies open to her every whim that assured her control.

But it’s to the mostly empty bar that she made her way, the crowd parting for her like hot butter for a knife, and it was at the sole occupant that she paused, brightly painted nails tapping on the counter.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, her voice soft and full of the innocence and wonder she’d been trained to exude.  “I wouldn’t want to intrude if you’re waiting for someone.”

Love is Not a Victory March (Roisa Soulmate Timer AU Book 4):

Michael Cordero, Jr. had never had a strong fascination with hotels like the Marbella.  He knew they existed, but to him, they had always seemed like tourist traps, destinations for people who didn’t live in Florida, meant for an elite sort of people that he and his family had never and would never be part of.  That made it sound as though he had a strong distaste for them, and maybe, to some extent, that was true, but for the most part, he just didn’t think about them.

That was until his timer went off for one of the waitresses who worked there.

At the time, Michael couldn’t have guessed that’s what she was, and in the years since, years he’d spent watching her from afar while he tracked down a crime lord who had grown mysteriously silent until, finally, he’d been connected to the very same hotel where his soulmate worked, he’d found that distaste slowly growing.  His soulmate deserved better, and he couldn’t wait to see her grow into whatever that better would be.

Mostly he couldn’t wait to spend his time watching something other than this stupid tourist trap hotel and its absolutely unattractive current manager with his rippling muscles that looked like they could burst out of his shirt at any moment or his leggy blonde wife who seemed to have no sense of propriety and wore bootie shorts everywhere like she wanted to be seen as a piece of meat. Not that he was one of those misogynistic assholes who thought that women couldn’t wear whatever they wanted, because he was not that.

He was just growing very, very tired of watching all of it.

Until Roman Zazo fell from a window on the twelfth floor and landed with the sharp point of an ice Marlin piercing through his chest.

Then everything seemed to suddenly grow a lot more interesting.

Clara Ruvelle and the Heir of Slytherin (Roisa HP AU Book 2):

“Hey!”  Clara pushed back against Hermione, shoving her over.  “I told you I didn’t want you to sit with me!”

But Hermione stayed where she was, refusing to get up, refusing to move even after Clara shoved her.  She just turned and gave her a flat stare.  “You’re not supposed to be fighting on the train.”

Clara’s eyes narrowed.  “You’re not supposed to set professors on fire either but—”

“Wait, wait, wait.”  Ginny held up her hands, palms out, and stared at Clara.  “Hermione set a professor on fire?” Her eyes widened, and she looked at Hermione.  “You really did that?”

Hermione gave Clara a blank stare and then turned to Ginny.  “No.  Of course not.  Good students don’t set their professors on fire.”

“Yeah, well, you must not be a very good student, then.”  Clara crossed her arms and leaned back against the plush back of the train bench.  “Since you definitely did that.”

“Clara.”  Hermione elbowed her harshly as she whispered through gritted teeth at her.  “Stop.”

Ginny just turned to Luisa with wide eyes.  “You’re the Hufflepuff!” she exclaimed and grinned.  “You’ll tell me the truth, right!”

Luisa just looked from Clara to Hermione and then winced.  “I, uh, I—”

“Quit making house assumptions,” Janet interrupted, voice flat.  Cat the cat had made his way out of her arms and woven around her neck, his head resting on his paws on the shoulder closest to the window so that he could stare outside with his one remaining eye, his tail on the other end, occasionally flicking against Clara as it moved.  “Just because Luisa is in Hufflepuff doesn’t mean that she’s a pushover—”

“Hey!” Luisa interrupted.

“—just because Hermione’s in Gryffindor doesn’t mean she’s brave—”

“Hey!” Hermione echoed Luisa.

“—and just because Clara and I are in Slytherin doesn’t mean we’re going to kill you or try to take over the world.”  Janet’s wand tapped against her arm a couple of times.  “Although, now that I mention it, taking over the world does sound like fun.  We may try and do that anyway.”

“Janet,” Clara hissed, elbowing her. “We’re not going to take over the world. That is way more work than either of us wants to do.  And you would have to pretend to get along with people – all that hand shaking and playing nice and everything – and I don’t think you’d like that very much.”

Janet sighed and nodded once.  “You’re right.  I wouldn’t. Maybe we postpone the taking over the world thing.”

A Christmas Hideaway (Roisa Hallmark Holiday Special Reversal):

“No, Daddy, I won’t be home for Christmas.”

Luisa has perfected the art of lying to her father about mundane things, particularly over the phone.  It started years ago when she was in high school, lying about stealing liquor from his cabinet whenever he asked with eyes that had initially shifted to look towards the ground and then eventually grew to facing him directly with a strong jaw, and continued through college, lying about how much time she was spending studying for her classes when really she was spending most of her time out with her friends doing almost anything except studying.  At some point, he stopped calling (or she stopped answering).  His time was – and still is – much better spent working on his company than inquiring into his children’s life.  Not because he doesn’t care.  He does. Luisa is certain he does.  That just isn’t how he shows it.  Mostly he shows it by staying out of her life or by giving her whatever she needs, money-wise, whenever she asks for it.

The not being home for Christmas part isn’t the lie.  The next part is.

Roisa Grinchmas Special:

Down at the hotel, far from their harsh glances, lived the other woman, whose drunken dances on tabletops naked with far too much glee were probably not meant for you or for me, especially since she had gone off the drink, tore it from her bar, and poured it down her sink. Yet still in her form she held both style and grace and often used these to make others’ hearts race. Her smile lit the room far better than fire and her heart burned like it would on a pyre for people and family who she held most dear, for whom she would shed far much more than a tear.

On Myths and Hideouts Ch. ???

City Hall feels like a bad marriage between Greco-Roman architecture and modern, streamlined, minimalistic design.  The former is a bad habit of all American political buildings; the latter is likely Storybrooke – or Regina – specific.  There are columns and a lot of black and white, which Rose hopes is not indicative of Regina’s way of thinking or her morals (she doubts this), and some wallpaper of trees, which should be rustic, but because it’s in black and white, it isn’t.  It works a little better than most people would think, but Rose – who spent way too long as Emilio’s interior design decorator for his hotels – doesn’t think it works at all.  She likes the black and white better than the Miami beach vibes that the Marbella put out, but only because she’s gotten plain sick of the Marbella after the last several years.

Regina stops at the secretary’s desk before heading into her office, leaning over just enough to give Rose a good view of her ass.  This is intentional.  At least, if Rose had done it, it would have been intentional, and she suspects that Storybrooke’s mayor runs on the same general wavelength that she does.  She can’t say just why she suspects it, but she gets that general vibe.

“Jessica, dear, clear out my meetings for the rest of the day.” Regina glances over her shoulder at Rose as though she hopes to catch her staring.  Her expression falters and quickly fixes itself when she realizes that she isn’t.  “I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Regina’s secretary – Jessica, apparently – lifts her head and glances over to Rose.  The two of them look quite similar, although Jessica is, for the most part, thinner and more angular than Rose is, with the exception of her chest, which almost seems impossibly big for how small the rest of her is.  Her Crayola red hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and she pushes thin black frames up her nose, brilliantly cerulean eyes peering out at Rose with a lack of interest as she takes her in.  “Of course, Ms. Mills,” she murmurs, and her voice is at once both demure and alluring.

Regina Mills might try her hardest to seduce Rose Alver, but she will not get anywhere near as close as this Jessica does within the first five seconds.

Rose swallows once, and her gaze flicks back to Regina.  Maybe that ass view wasn’t for her at all.  Luisa had thought Regina had something going on with the sheriff, but at this moment, she’s pretty sure that she actually has something much more interesting going on with her secretary.

On Myths and Hideouts Jess Prequel:

Jessica Krupnick sees a lot that she does not mention.

Well.  This would mean more if she had someone to mention it to.  She has no friends in this little town, although she is certain that she could if she tried.  She has never felt that impulse to try.  People seem to think of her first as Mayor Mills’s secretary, the woman the mayor chose not as her right hand woman – the closest person in Storybrooke who came to that was Sheriff Humbert, who insisted that everyone refer to him as Graham (or at least, he insisted that to Jessica every time they spoke, and she consistently pretended as though he didn’t) – but as the protector of….

Well, her, if you wanted to think of it that way.

Sheriff Humbert protected the people.  He was a physical failsafe.  Jessica protected her office.  She was a mental failsafe.

And sometimes, Jessica considers as she sees Henry speeding into the office, skidding across the marble floors on his shoes with the biggest grin on his face she has ever seen, she protects her heart.

Paradise Lost post-canon:

Francis tapped the steering wheel of the U-Haul with the pad of her thumb. The air conditioner rattled a little too loudly as she drove, overwhelming the soft tunes crooning through the radio.  Davis sat in the middle seat, belt tight across his waist, and Reynolds sat in the passenger seat, elbow resting on the door and staring out the window at the passing landscape.

“It’ll be cooler once the car warms up,” Francis remarks, reaching over and tousling her youngest son’s hair.  He’s sticky with sweat; U-Hauls were nothing more than metal boxes, and in the Southern humid heat, it had cooked itself until even touching the seats felt like it would burn through their skin.  It was only made worse by the shorts they were all wearing, pushing exposed skin against burning fabric.  At least she had convinced the boys to wear t-shirts instead of tank-tops.

Davis was easy enough to convince, but Reynolds….

Reynolds wasn’t wearing a t-shirt the way Francis wanted.  Instead, his shirt was stretched so that it hung about him more like a wife-beater than a shirt, and the sleeves were stretched so that they might as well have not been there at all.  She was certain if he was wearing a normal shirt, the sleeves would be rolled up to feign a tank within seconds.

This was all just the influence of the football team and his father’s friendship with Dickie.  That may have fallen lax in the past few months as the divorce dragged on, but Reynolds had maintained his friendship with Dickie’s son – and no amount of Francis telling him it was a bad idea did anything.  In fact, she’d refrained from saying much at all, outside of suggesting that he should choose his friends wisely and hoping that Yates suggested the same.

Considering the fight he’d allowed between the two of them, Francis sincerely doubted he had.

Timeless/Noir fusion:

It happened at the end of her last class of the day.  Lucy felt the vibration of her phone – a longer buzz indicative of an email instead of the shorter one for a text – where it rested in the left pocket of her slacks.  She stepped outside of the lecture hall, shuffled her students’ papers and folders (it was essay day, and some of them still used folders although she’d said multiple times that she preferred they didn’t), and pulled out her phone.

Emma Whitmore.

Lucy didn’t recognize the name, but it could be from a student wanting into one of her classes or a professor asking for her expertise on one of their projects.  This wasn’t too unusual.  Probably a student – she knew most of the professors on campus by name; even if she’d never met them, she’d likely heard about them from one of the other students in passing.  She’d never heard of a Professor Whitmore, though.

Her eyes scanned the email.

Standard fare for a professor help request – doing a bit of research, wanted to speak with someone more knowledgeable about the subject (mostly time period, maybe some political history), etc.  There were a few lines that felt a little off, but Lucy chalked that up to what she expected was likely a new hire who was unnecessarily intimidated by her own pedigree.  And while it was odd that Emma hadn’t used her school email, given the more professional setting, it might be that she wanted to keep everything involving her research organized separately from her student emails.  Lucy couldn’t fault her for that, either.

She sent a quick reply – yes, along with perhaps meeting for coffee or drinks Friday afternoon – and then promptly forgot about the entire thing as her phone rang, another incessant and immediate buzzing.

“Amy?”  Lucy braced the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she moved her pile of essays and folders once more.  “Slow down!  What happened this time?”

The Story of a Girl (Noir Fic; Title Pending) Ch. 3 - “Shielded by Black Robes”:

The attackers dodged.  That was the first thing she noticed, the first of many problems with this scenario. They dodged.

The second problem was when one of them somehow caught the knife she threw at his forehead.  He smirked at her and threw it back so fast she barely dodged it herself.  These mooks were good.

But Chloe was better.

Whereas before she stood her ground next to the pillar with only the occasional dodge, now she began to race forward, a knife in each hand. The men pulled out their guns, finally finished reloading them, but she was upon them before the first trigger could be pressed.

Below.  Sweep the leg.  Beneath, behind.  Knife to the side, the neck.  Catch and hold while shot at – meat shields are the best kind because the shots go both ways.

Throw him away.  Dodge.  Roll. Bite.

The blonde stepped out from behind the pillar, aiming and shooting and moving, all one fluid motion, she a panther, lithe and strong, and Chloe a cheetah, swift and deadly, spotless.  She saw the shot from the gun, aimed toward the blonde, fast, too fast – the blue eyes once so icy now so warm and wide—

No.

Her teeth dripped blood that day.

[shy-fairy-levele3]

WIP Wednesday Game

Here’s how it woks:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

My File Names:

Beetlejuice Returns CH. 6

Everyone Remain Calm (One Shot)  

I know what you smell like (One Shot)

Old Souls CH. 1

Snippit From Beetlejuice Returns:

Hugo pulled away from the hug slightly and Lydia could read the guilty expression on his face like a book.

 “On that note, I have a confession to make,” Hugo admitted. 

Having expected as much Lydia had time to brace herself and school her features.

 Hugo sheepishly went to his dresser and retrieved his iPad. 

This new technological marvel was only a month old, an early birthday present Hugo convinced Lydia to buy on the merit it would help him with school. Lydia had yet to see evidence of this, but thought it had some fun games to play. 

He brought the screen to life with a few taps on the sleek surface, then turned the screen toward his mother. 

Beetlejuice would later be sorry he had missed out on the unveiling.

 “Don’t be mad,” Hugo pleaded, “but I made a profile for you on a dating website.” 

[meltwonu]

✦ 👻  𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 SEASON 2 👻 ✦

↪ ✧ TELL ME IT’S A NIGHTMARE ✧

this chapter pairing; multiverse!jun x reader

genre&warnings; multiverse!au, dom!jun, hybrid!au, incubus!au, vampire!au, dirty talk, degradation, temperature play [ice], mentions of breeding kink & somnophilia, PWP.

notes; Imagine if Starlighter, Call Me, and that angsty Wonwoo birthday blurb I wrote had a child... That’s this except no sad and all h0rny ☠️ A bit of a... slow down from yesterday’s fic too but who knows~ 😈 These last few ones were really... Me experimenting so I hope they were likable 🥺💕 If there’s anything I wrote in these fics that ya’ll would like to see more of, please let me know 🥰 There’s a few things I wrote about for the first time with these fics that were things I’ve been wanting to write about so it was really exciting for me kdjhkdsjh And there’s still one chapter left 😈 Heheh~ For now, enjoy ch 12, enjoy the rest of your day and I’ll see you tomorrow for MMS2′s final chapter! 🎃 👻 😈💕

word count; ~2500

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - x

should've seen it in my eyes;

it's not like I never told you.

shouldn't come as a surprise;

you were high on the adrenaline,

and you always wanted more.

You date Jun for approximately two months before he tells you and when he does, you’re convinced it’s all just an elaborate prank.

‘Don’t worry, it just happens once in a while!’ He prefaces, ‘It’s still me, it’s just… not? But it hasn’t happened in a really long time!’

And while you try to take in the massive info dump of ‘multiple versions of Jun that appear every now and then’, you, also, simultaneously wonder if each version of Jun knows a version of you that’s just as different.

‘Should I be worried?’ You’d asked - hands clasped together in your lap tightly as he chuckled and shook his head.

‘No, if anything… You should be... Intrigued. There’s lots of versions of me I think you’d like.’ He’d said; eyes twinkling as he left you wondering.

But in the time since the two of you had spoken about it, your curiosity had only grown with each week that passed and you still hadn’t seen or heard another peep about it and Jun had made no indications of how or when it’d happen - if it ever would.

“Hey, but I have a question,” You ask him, finally - too curious to keep yourself quiet after weeks of questions bubbling up inside of you.

The two of you are watching a Halloween film when he looks over to you; hand in a bowl of popcorn as he nods.

“About?”

“The… The thing you said. About, y’know, how you… how sometimes you just… blip out and a different version of you just… shows up.”

“Oh, yeah, what about it?” He replies nonchalantly, “I almost forgot about that.”

You bite your lip out of nervousness but it’s too late to go back as he waits for you to continue.

“What if… what if when you switched, it was… Um, in the middle of something…”

Jun raises a brow at you; his own curiosity piqued.

“Like, what? If we were out on a date in public?”

“No! N-no, like, i-if we were in bed… Y’know.”

Your cheeks are warm as Jun stays quiet but it’s the growing grin on his face that makes you whine and hide your face in a nearby sofa pillow out of embarrassment.

“I just wanna know! I don’t want you to feel like I’m cheating on you with… Well, you… I-if it happens!”

And Jun laughs, lighthearted and soft just like how he always does.

“In a weird way, we all share the same pleasure. I’d still feel it so I wouldn’t count that as cheating since it’s still me. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

But it’s approximately two hours later when Jun pins you to the bed - his cock already all the way up to the base inside of your cunt that you feel the air shift dramatically.

“J--Jun…?”

He looks taken aback for a moment before his eyes meet yours and you lock eyes with a crimson-eyed version of Jun that has you gasping softly.

“I--w-wait…”

“Oh? A human. Interesting.”

You clench around his cock from his words - somewhat even more aroused from the implication that he wasn’t a human.

“W-what are you… Jun?”

He smirks down at you as he draws his hips back and thrusts back in; this version of him moving at a more languid pace than your Jun would normally.

“Where’s all the fun if I just tell you, sweetheart? Why don’t you guess~” He retorts teasingly - cold hands on the skin of your waist as you mewl and arch your back when the head of his cock grazes your sweet spot.

“I--I don’t, a-ah, know… Y-you look the--the same so I--mmnh, I c-can’t tell…”

But it only takes a few more hard but slow snaps of his hips until he’s laughing at you - baring his fangs that have you shuddering.

“Such a naughty little thing, aren’t you, sweetheart? You’re only getting wetter and wetter with each thrust of my hips… Are you like this normally with your human version of me? Or does the thought of fucking a vampire turn you on this much, hmm?”

Your breath hitches when he leans over your body - his lips ghosting across your skin as you whimper Jun’s name and clamp your eyes shut.

“Ngh, I--I was j-just curious… That’s a-all… He mentioned it, a-ah, but-- but I didn’t know what to e-expect…”

Jun kisses your warm skin, fangs grazing the column of your throat as you gulp.

“You smell so sweet… I can’t wait to feed off of you once I get you to cum on my cock.”

“J--Jun…! I--p-please, d-don’t, I--I--a-ah!”

The fear hits you all at once at the thought of him actually feeding from you but it’s the quietness that follows and the pausing of his hips that has your eyes fluttering open.

“Jun…?” He pulls back and you see it - cheeks warm at the fluffy orange cat ears and the swishing cat tail behind him.

This time a cat-hybrid version of Jun between your legs as your thighs tremble.

“Mm, looks like we switched at a good time~!” He grins, “Whoever came before me must’ve been doing a good job because you’re dripping all over me, kitten~”

You’re taken aback from the switch you’d already encountered but you can’t stop the way you beg him to fuck you as your hands find purchase in the pillow under your head.

“P-please, please f-fuck me… A-ah, t-the last Jun f-fucked me s-so, ngh, slow… And--and I want it f-faster...”

Jun chuckles before he’s spreading your legs and pushing them up towards your chest - bending you into a mating press as you mewl and whimper underneath him.

“Oh? Do you like it fast? Or does the thought of me breeding your pussy like this get you this desperate, kitten?”

Your breath hitches as he suddenly starts a rough pace and in this position, he pounds your g-spot as garbled moans spill from your lips.

“I’ll cum inside your hot ‘lil cunt, fill you up so much and make sure it sticks so that you’re properly bred~ Might even have to cum inside you a few times, kitten~ Do you think we’ll have the rest of the night to ourselves?”

You feel his tail wrap around your thigh posessively as he chuckles, “Your pussy is sucking me in deeper, y’know? Are you gonna cum thinking about being pumped full of my cum~?”

“Ngh, J--Jun… A-ah, you’re fucking m-me so deep like this…” Whining, your eyes roll to the back of your head as he growls and grinds against you.

“I wanna see you swollen with my cum, don’t you?”

You’re about to respond when he draws his hips back and pulls out of you all the way - your bleary eyes peering up at the Jun that’s hovering above you that looks eerily similar to the first one that’d switched with your Jun.

“W-wait, what…?” 

That was too fast..?

“My, my, my what a dirty position you’re in, doll. So exposed for me to fuck your cute, wet ‘lil hole.”

This Jun smiles at you with teeth, no fangs in sight as your brows furrow.

“Mmnh, w-which version of J--Jun are you…?”

He doesn’t answer but instead slides his cock back into your pussy as you mewl and immediately clench around his length.

Your body feels twice as hot as he fucks you and the whines that spill out of your mouth are needier than they’ve ever been.

“Jun, I--I feel l-like I’m, ah, o-on fire… Your cock is s-so hot inside m-me…”

“Ah, well, that’s the effect incubus have on humans, doll~ We make you feel extra good so that we can feed off of your sexual energy,” He smirks, “And my, my, your lust is pouring over, doll~ Wanna indulge and tell me what’s gotten you this ruined already? You haven’t even cum yet~”

Your thoughts feel muddled as his hips snap into you - the sound of your wetness and skin slapping making your cheeks hot knowing there’d already been multiple versions of Jun with their cocks inside of you.

“I--a-ah, it’s just… A-all of you are l-like my Jun but, ngh, n-not…” You whimper, “The v-vampire version of Jun w-wanted to feed from m-me and--and, mmnh, the c-cat hybrid version w-wanted to b-breed my p-pussy…”

The incubus version of Jun chuckles under his breath as he makes an ice cube appear out of thin air - your breath stuttering when he pauses his movements and slowly lets your legs down.

“And me? I’m here to tease you, doll~ I want to see you all ruined for me before I even get you anywhere close to cumming~”

He keeps his cock stuffed in your cunt as he drags the ice cube down your hot skin; goosebumps rising all over your body when he brings it closer and closer to your clit.

“Would your precious Jun do this to you, doll~?”

“Ngh, I--I don’t know…” You respond breathily - head feeling too fuzzy to even properly respond at this point from how overstimulated you already were.

Jun places the cold ice cube firmly against your clit as you let out a high pitched whine and clench around his cock - body arching off of the bed at the odd yet pleasurable feeling as he teases your clit with the small ice cube.

“You’re so sensitive, doll~ Or is it because you’ve already had a few different cocks inside of you tonight, hmm?”

“N-no, it’s, ah, a-all Jun s-still…” Mumbling, the tears bead up on your lashes at the feeling of him resuming his movements as he moves the ice cube off of your clit and thrusts into your pussy instead.

“Well, it is and isn’t, right? We all brought something a little different to the table for you that your Jun couldn’t normally. Not that that’s bad but, ah, how fun for you, hmm?” He teases.

Jun draws his hips back until only the head of his cock is inside you and you find yourself holding on and clamping down hard around him as you crave to be filled all the way.

“J--Jun, do--don’t stop… Please…!”

He grins and makes another ice cube appear - this time, swirling it around your clit before dragging it down further to where his cock is keeping your hole filled.

“Mm, should I put it inside? I’ll get you to cum with an ice cube inside your needy ‘lil cunt~”

You let out a whimper - the thought making a thrum of arousal wash over your body as he smirks.

“Ah, but you want something hot, don’t you, doll? You wanna feel me ruining this cunt of yours and fucking it into the shape of my cock, right?”

You cry out as he thrusts all the way back in; hips snapping into you at a harsh pace as your body jerks against the bed.

“Jun… Jun!”

You’re close to cumming when you feel his hips stutter as he takes in a deep breath - eyes wide as he sees your blissed out expression.

“B-baby…?”

You open your teary eyes to find your Jun between your legs - his eyes softer and expression out of breath as his fingertips dig into your skin.

“I--I switched, didn’t I?”

Your throat is dry as you peer up at him, nodding shakily as he takes in his surroundings. “I--it… Wasn’t bad, was it? They didn’t hurt you, right, baby?”

Your mouth waters just thinking of the events that’d occurred and by the way Jun’s cock is throbbing inside of your cunt - you can tell he’s just as affected as you are.

“N-no, just… It was d-different… I---they were like you just… different…”

You look away shyly as he grins cheekily - his grip on you tightening as he starts at a quick, yet gentler pace.

“Yeah? Did they get you to cum? Or which one was your favourite, hmm?”

Jun brings a hand between your bodies, fingertips playing with your clit as you whimper and sob from the stimulation.

“They, a-ah, were all g-good b-but I… I like you t-the, mmnh, best… A-and I--I didn’t c-cum yet… I wanted, ngh, to cum with y-you...”

“So cute, baby~ You’ll have to tell me more later, okay? But for now, I want you to cum with me. Get my cock nice ‘n wet. You’ve had such a long night, haven’t you? I bet you wanna cum so bad~”

You nod feverishly as you beg him to fuck you faster, your body starting to lock up as you feel the pleasure nipping at your overly sensitive body.

And Jun follows closely behind you as his thrusts become erratic and lose their rhythm - only a few quick snaps of his hips bringing the two of you over the edge as you cum together.

“Jun…!”

You cry out; thighs trembling and eyes clamping shut as you ride out the pleasure that’d been building up all night and Jun’s words from before about how he’d still feel the pleasure even when he switched making you remember that he was probably just as desperate to cum as you’d been.

“F-fuck, baby, you’re so t-tight around me… So hot and wet around my cock…” Groaning, he throws his head back as he fights the urge to drool with your walls fluttering around his length.

“I could still feel you when I switched… I could feel how they made you feel too…” He mutters, voice soft and airy as the two of you enjoy each others’ company. “The things they said to you that made your body react.”

You did like the other Jun’s but something about the one currently smiling down at you made your heart flutter in a way that was different.

Smiling, you chuckle tiredly as your orgasm ebbs away - eyelids threatening to shut as your body relaxes underneath him.

“How about one more round then, hmm, Jun? See if you can remember anything they said or did to get me even wetter.”

And when you’re waking up the next morning, Jun’s head between your thighs as he eats you out, you wonder which version of him it is when he makes you cum.

[forbiddensoul562]

Meronia Fics Masterlist

A directory to where else you can find me, my Meronica fanfics, as well as a (hopefully) comprehensive list of the pieces that I’ve published to Tumblr and Twitter over the years. If you happen to know of any piece that I left off, please let me know so I can add them! 

Directory

Twitter: @forbiddensoul56 

AO3: Forbiddensoul562

Fanfiction.net: Forbiddensoul562

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Join the Meronia Discord Server: https://discord.gg/2dZ8ytQMWv

Want to help me make this list longer? Feel free to send an Ask with your own prompts or ideas!

Started: Sept. 9, 2021 Last Update: May 1, 2023

Access the free Meronia Zine

(Checkout my collab piece starting on pg 90)

Cursed Moons: A Meronia Fanzine vol 1

(Ask-based) Minific Prompts

Mello calls Matt over to help bake Near a birthday cake

Near researching sex, Mello discovers his search history - NSFW 

Mello’s zipper pants getting in the way... - slightly NSFW

Bad breakup

Mello joining Near in the bath

“Fancy seeing you here, acting like you weren’t expecting me at all.”

Choosing and adopting a pet

“Is it supposed to look like that?”

“What am I doing wrong?”

Near finds a human head in their closet

Gets lost in IKEA

“I may have accidentally said something and now my whole family kind of thinks we’re dating. Oops.”

“Is there any part of you that isn’t bruised?”

Finding the other wearing their clothes

Having their hair washed by the other

“Did you just go throw up?” and “Can you hear me?”

“I’m alive... I can tell because of the pain”

Mello becomes sick

Near becomes sick

Near gives Mello chocolate

Mourning Matt’s death

“I love you”

Everything about him was... lovable

Watching Near sleep

Feelings of loneliness

(Self-Created) Prompts

“You know, that’s the first time you’ve said you loved me.”

10 Sentence Fic: First kiss

It’s Just A Game - NSFW

Asking Near to take a case

Untitled Goose Game Near

Based on other fics

From The Art of Isolation/The Topology of Compassion

Near goes into labor 

Near experiences morning sickness 

Near experiences morning sickness (ver. 2) 

Buying baby clothes 

Near sings for Mello 

Near sings for Mello (ver. 2) 

Test chapter for Isolation/Topology trilogy 

Mama’s Day 

Event Writing (Meronia Week, DeathNotetober, etc.)

Meronia Week (2016)

Day 1: Reunion

Day 2: Beginnings

Day 3: Black/White

Day 4: Together

Day 6: Thanks Giving

DeathNotetober (2021)

Day 15: Redesign

Day 18: Heart (Based on: God’s Dice)

Day 22: Disguise

Meronia Event (2021)

Morning Routine

Fashion designer AU Omegaverse

Test Chapters/One-shots

Contagion - Post-apocalyptic, Zombie outbreak AU

Heart-Shaped Pizza Box - Mello!Pizza delivery, Near is enamored

Lessons in Cutlery

Parts and Parcel - A Robot!Near AU

Arranged Marriage - Victorian Era AU (Published on ff as: Orchestration)

Flower/Tattoo shop AU (Published on ff as: Canvas of Flowers)

Of Lies and Deceit - Spy themed AU

Near’s 21st birthday

The Way of Steam and Pirates - Steampunk AU - Ch. 1 (Published version)

The Way of Steam and Pirates - Steampunk AU - Ch 2  (Published version)

Proxy - Angst

God’s Dice (Published as: God’s Dice)

Twitter Fics

Severed head

Tending to Near’s hair

“I’ve got a case for you” - Later completed into this piece

Distracting Mello from work

Taking care of Near

Glad you’re safe

Only one time Mello beat Near on a test

Is Mello Cheating? (Meronia Choose Your Adventure Game)

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[openheartfanfics]

Newly Added Fics

Dec 17, 2021  -  Jan 1, 2022 

🎭 Angst  |  🦚 Angsty Fluff  |  🛸 AU  |  ☁ Fluff  |  ♥ NSFW  |  📚 Series  |  📷 Edit  |  📱 TextFic  |  Ⓜ Mature

Bryce x F!MC

Fireworks - @appiomofchoice 🌟☁ Bryce and Darcy contemplate new year’s resolutions on the roof of the hospital that is about to shut down.

Holiday Cheer - @peonierose 📷

Hot Cocoa for Two - @storyofmychoices 📅❄☁ Bryce makes hot cocoa for him and Liv.

Love Actually Is... - @eleanorbloom 📅🎄🎨 What a Lahela-Bloom Christmas would look like. Lots of sweets, love, fluffiness and cheesy slippers (much to Keiki’s disgrace).

Starry Nights - @eleanorbloom 📅🌟🦚 New Year’s Eve doesn’t mean anything to her, but Bryce could change that.

Ethan x F!MC

Be Sweet - @droppedmydamncroissant 🎭 The rupture of their essence would deliver to Ethan a bitter lesson: hell hath no fury like a vengeful lover - for she bent the light in a way that concealed not only the darkness within herself, but the one outside. [Hurt/Comfort; Fighting; Pining; Jealousy] 

Birthday Boy - @potionsprefect ☁ Victoria gives Ethan a birthday he’ll never forget [Birthday] 

Bonne Année - @genevievemd 🌟📷 It’s Ethan and Gen’s first New Year’s as an offical married couple, and he surprises her with a trip to Paris to celebrate [Vacation] 

Bygones - @liaromancewriter ☁Ⓜ When Cassie runs into Ethan’s ex from medical school, it’s a chance to close the door on the past. [Ex Came Back]

Customer Support - @starfurylord ☁ Kate introduces Ethan to the wide world of medical blogs and e-diagnoses that's currently in the trend. Ethan is not pleased. One disturbing conversation and a relationship revelation later, coffee promises to be their best friend. [Social Media] 

Dye Job - @utterlyinevitable ☁ Ethan dyes Becca’s hair.  [Domestic] 

Fine Line - @jamespotterthefirst Ⓜ🌟☁ After a New Year’s Eve kiss, they’re not pretending anymore. Part III of As Long as You Love Me So and Auld Lang Syne

Kismet - @jerzwriter 📚 [mini: complete]  This series details six times Casey & Ethan met before they believe that they met for the first time.

5.

Late Night Thoughts - @potionsprefect 📅☁ Awake at night, Ethan reflects on the woman that’s in his life

Learning to Teach - @starfurylord ☁❄ Kate gifts Ethan a gag gift. What should've begun a conversation about memes and humour spans into a discussion about what it means to be working as a doctor and improving one's confidence. Ethan can't help but feel hopelessly in love, the more she helps him regain his lost faith.

Maybe Next Year? - @jerzwriter 🌟🦚 It’s New Year’s Eve during Casey’s intern year, and she’s shocked to have the night off, but will she get to spend it the way she hoped to?

Merry Christmas - @rookiemartin 📅🎄🎨

New Years Banter - @starfurylord 🌟☁ What do people do on January 1st? They get hungover, blackout drunk and party all day - in the reverse order. But to Ethan and Kate, it is more of a celebration in the form of domestic banter and a quiet birthday party - filled with wishes and resolutions coming true. [Birthday; Drunk] 

New Year’s Eve - @liaromancewriter 🌟📷📱 Cassie and her friends host a New Year’s Eve extravaganza to ring in 2022 with a bang. Feat. The Gang

Resolutions - @genevievemd 🌟☁ It’s New Year’s Eve 2020, Ethan and Gen spend the holiday on a romantic getaway. Where they both make secret resolutions. [Vacation] 

SEE YOU SOON - @a-crepusculo ☁ Marchia reunites with Ethan after one exhausting week of being apart. [Left Town] 

The Light of His Life - @rookiemartin ☁ Ethan is asking her the most important question of his life. [Proposal] 

With and Without - @alwaysmychoices 📚 [extended: wip] CH: The night before the hospital closes, Charlie and friends go out to celebrate their time at Edenbrook and the friendship they formed there. But with a night this monumental, are secrets bound to be revealed? [2.18] 

A Toast to Edenbrook

Your Biggest Fan - @jamespotterthefirst 📚🛸 [extended: wip]  AU: When he is forced to promote his new book on social media, an insolent stranger points out a mistake in his research.  

9. Dolores

Keiki Lahela

Kokoleka Wela (Hot chocolate) - @storyofmychoices ❄☁ Hot cocoa is a winter must even in Hawaii. Bryce helps Keiki enjoy the perfect cup of cocoa.

Love Triangle 

The Competition - @takeharryandgo 📚🛸 [extended: wip] Ethan x F!MC x Tobias

11. Revenge

Platonic/The Gang

NYE with Friends - @reputaytion-xiii 📅🌟🎨

Tobias x F!MC

Happiest New Year - @jerzwriter 🌟☁ It was a difficult year for the Carrick family and, on New Year’s morning, Tobias & Casey welcome the craziness, the chaos… and even Vivian. They are happy that their recently expanded family is all under one roof and starting new traditions.

_

SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi lovely! I was wondering if you have any fics where Sherlock buys John gifts? Maybe a new coat or something adorable and thoughtful? Anything really! Gift giving is my love language so would love to see it with my favourite couple!

Hey Lovely!

AHH it's mine too! I love making people happy, so it hits right, hahah :)

Ah, ones I can immediately think of:

Sibling Rivalry Or Fighting Over John Watson By Jessa7 (T, 8,085 w., 1 Ch. || Romance / Humour) – Mycroft is just as much of a genius as Sherlock is. He keeps randomly kidnapping John for chats, and the locations get better. Cue Sherlock’s younger sibling complex rearing up and jealousy ensues.

The Devil You Know by PipMer (T, 9,300 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous Sherlock, Romance, Friends to Lovers)- Mycroft flirts with John. Sherlock gets jealous. John’s just along for the ride.

Licence to Kiss by fellshish (T, 13,739 w., 4 Ch. || Post-ASIB, Sort-Of Bondlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Angst and Humour, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock loves John, and John loves... James Bond. He only made Sherlock watch every single film. Tedious. And now John's birthday is coming up. Sherlock can't tell him how he feels, but he can organise an amazing gift: John's very own spy adventure. Sherlock begs Mycroft for a real case with some extra gadgets. And perhaps some actors pretending to be criminals. What could possibly go wrong?

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky Sherlock, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

------

Ah, you can also probably check out these few lists that will obviously have gift giving:

Christmas Fics (Dec. 2017)

Christmas: Oblivious That One or The Other is In a Relationship

Christmas 2019 Part 1 (All Bookmarks XMas and New Years)

Christmas 2019 Part 2 (Marked for Later)

G / T / K+ Rated Christmas Fics (Dec. 2018) (Updated Dec 2021)

Community Recs: Christmas 2020 (Updated Dec 2021)

Birthdays

I know I'm missing a TONNE MORE, and I know I've read some and can't remember what they're called... so if anyone can add some more, please do, because I would love to add them here!

[janeyseymour]

Dangerous Desires- a fanfic

After three years of being fostered by Jane Seymour, turning 18 is right around the corner for a young Katherine Howard. What that entails? Stick around and you'll suddenly see more (seymour).

hi! so, this idea popped into my head a few days ago and with some kind ideas from a dear friend @the-quiet-winds, this little fic was born. More to come! As always, have a lovely day!

Ch 1 - Be Still My Heart

Ever since Jane Seymour was a child, she knew she wanted children. What she didn’t know when she was a little girl was that she would never have a child of her own. She would come close, but it would never happen.

When Jane was 28, she would fall pregnant. She would give birth to a stillborn child before developing Sepsis. The woman would barely overcome it and remain in unstable conditions for quite some time before being able to say she was in the clear. The day she was deemed safe and cured was the day she would vow to herself she would never produce her own child ever again. Sure, the task of healing her body went through was rough, but nothing would ever be harder than seeing a child- her child- that would just become another lifeless body in the ground.

At 30, the blonde woman decided that she had enough moping, and if she couldn’t have a child of her own, there were so many children who needed a home. So, she began to foster. Within her first week of having her fostering license, one little girl was placed in her household. She would leave three weeks later to be reunited with her family. It was hard for the kind woman to let go of the little girl, but ultimately she knew the little girl would be okay.

Child after child, Jane Seymour continued on with fostering. Any child that she could help along the way knowing they were in a safe and loving house- even just overnight- she would do it a million times over.

And then Katherine Howard entered her life. Katherine Howard- the teenager, not a little girl- who came to her more terrified than any other child who had entered her home. Katherine Howard- the anxiety ridden child who didn’t know how to act like a child because she had to grow up far too soon. Katherine Howard- the girl who stole Jane Seymour’s heart.

3 years of being in Jane’s care had significantly benefited the once shy and meek teenager. She was nearing the end of her senior year, and turning eighteen was just around the corner for the young lass. No more was she the almost mute teen that walked in through the front door three years ago with nothing but the clothing on her back. No more was she the girl who bounced around from foster parent to foster parent and school to school. No more was she the lass who walked around in fear of being thrown out of the house over something as small as using the salt shaker at the dinner table. No. Now, she was the girl who happily opened the front door to Jane Seymour’s house and announce she was back home proudly. (She had been hesitant to call it home at first, but the blonde woman made it clear to her that even if she were to be taken out of her care, it would always be home- if Katherine so desired). Now, she was the girl who would greatly announce that she had been living with her foster mother and attending the same high school for three years. Now, she knew she could do almost anything, and even if it were wrong- well, her foster mother would continue to look at her like she deserved the sun, the stars, and the moon.

But there was one thing that hadn’t changed. Katherine Howard, the name she vehemently hated, was still motherless. Of course, she had Jane Seymour as her foster mother. But as she knew, once she was eighteen, the woman that had so kindly taken her in and shown her love and care for so long had the option of leaving her to her own devices. The teen wasn’t foolish. She had been told time and time again that a family wouldn’t get rid of her, only for them to lose patience with her indecisiveness and inability to make a decision. Or perhaps they would get angry that she wasn’t capable of being the child they so desperately wanted because, as stated before, Katherine Howard grew up much too quickly. Katherine Howard would never have a mother to call her own. She could pretend that Jane Seymour was her mother, but in the end there was no such luck.

Or so she thought. Unbeknownst to her, Jane Seymour was a sneaky, sneaky woman who was using her powers for good. There was no family that would fight for Katherine at this point- not years ago when the teen was a little girl placed in foster care, and certainly not three years after the girl had been placed in her care. And unbeknownst to Katherine Howard, Jane Seymour had full intention of adopting the sweet teen just a few weeks shy of her eighteenth birthday.

The pair had just finished cleaning up dinner and were settling in for their nightly routine of watching a movie and Kat went to reach for the remote when a gentle hand was placed over hers. When the teen first moved in here she would have inevitably flinched away from the touch. Now however, she knew there was no malice behind the hand and playfully swatted it away.

“Come on Jane,” she laughed quietly. “What are we watching tonight anyway? I was thinking we could try this new show called-”

“Actually love,” Jane started gently. “I think there’s something we need to talk about.”

Those nine words were enough to make the younger girl’s heart stop. She took her hand

back and leaned away from the coffee table shaking slightly. She racked her brain for any wrongdoings that might have occurred that would cause this conversation to take place but could find none.

“Uh, yeah sure. What’s up?” She tried to keep the waiver out of her voice, but it was clear she had become a nervous wreck within the past few seconds.

The foster mum cleared her throat before speaking with some hesitation in her voice, “So... Kat, your eighteenth birthday is in a few weeks.” Ah, so it was that conversation. The one where Jane would tell the teen that once she turned eighteen she was to move out and never contact her again.

Katherine’s wall immediately went up and she stood up straight, any fear in her eyes gone and replaced with a look that was almost stony. “Yes.”

“And I was wondering,” the older woman drew out.

“I’ll make this easy for you,” the teen far too used to being thrown out of places, cut her off. “When do you want me out?”

The blonde’s mouth could not have dropped any quicker. She stood scooted closer on the couch to the girl who had stolen her heart as she searched for her words.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” was all that she could seem to say. “No, no, no. No. No.” She stated the last “no” with such might that she shocked herself.

“Well then what is it?” Katherine’s hopes had been raised, but the lack of care in her voice didn’t show that.

“Oh, god,” Jane stumbled over her words again. “This is not how I planned on this going,” she muttered to herself. “I- uh,” she cleared her throat again. “Your eighteenth birthday is in a few weeks, and I do have a gift for you if you’ll take it, but I wanted to run it by you in case you might not want it- which is completely understandable if you don’t want to accept my gift. I wouldn’t be hurt in the slightest, and I would understand.” A lie. It would cut through Jane’s heart of stone like nothing else.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Kat’s curiosity peaked. In the last three years that the girl had lived with Jane she had been showered with both big and little gifts that ranged from a new phone to a small cup that the older woman simply could not pass up on buying for the girl.

“Let me just go-” The foster mum stood abruptly from her spot. “-and get it.” She ran into her room with a bit more spring in her step than Katherine had ever seen before returning a few short seconds later with a manilla envelope. “Here.” She shoved the envelope into her foster daughter’s hands not so eloquently.

With a confused look on her face, Kat opened the envelope and pulled out many documents. She scanned her eyes over the first page when she saw it. Request for adoption of Katherine Howard.

[liquorisce]

reading between the lines (High School Years, Ch 2)

pairing: eren x mikasa (shingeki no kyojin) // mild erehisu, yumihisu

rating: t

summary: (modern au) Junior year is difficult, especially for Mikasa, because it turns out Eren’s decided to test the dating scene. 

(banter, jealousy... and lots of feelings)

part 1 | read on ao3

A/N: this chapter has been a long time coming (5 years omg), and tbh I have a lovely anon to thank, who messaged me asking for a sequel to hsy, which made me actually want to put down my scrambled headcanons on paper. if you're reading this anon, i'm truly grateful for the push you gave me. 

NOTE: although i intended a sequel, this is a COMPANION fic to chapter 1, it is meant to fill up the gaps in the story that the previous chapter didnt tell you. i hope you enjoy :)

Today was not one of Eren’s favourite days, for 2 reasons. For one, the day started off with … an encounter. Two, today they would be getting the results of their final trig assessment, which Eren knows perfectly well he didn’t have a chance of passing.

The ‘encounter’ happens pretty much without preamble.

…

i.

“… Hey, it’s Eren, right?” He turns around from his conversation with Armin, to see the same guy from a couple of weeks ago, the one who was talking about Mikasa, and her pretty hair. (he wasn’t wrong)  

“Yeah?” He does his best not to let the subconscious irritation seep into his tone.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day,” the guy with the oddly horse-shaped face says, “… My name’s Jean.”

“… Nice to meet you,” he says awkwardly delivering his dishonest words.

“… So, I wanted to be straight up with you,” Jean says, cheeks oddly pink. “About Mikasa… and you. I’ve heard some rumours, and I thought it best to address it with you directly, because I really don’t want to cause any trouble.”   Clearing his throat, he says, “Are you guys… y’know, together?”

It’s in the way Jean speaks, he thinks, or the way he talks about Mikasa (or even thinks of her?) - it makes him want to ram his fist right in the middle of his ugly face. And because he was too busy clenching his fists to actually respond, Armin says with a laugh, “… Ah, don’t worry, Mikasa is totally single.”

And then proceeds to wink at Jean.

Eren can barely believe his eyes and ears. And once Jean is out of earshot he hisses, “… what the fuck, Armin?”

Armin blinks up at him innocently. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

 “… You didn’t have to encourage him,” Eren mumbles petulantly, when he admits to himself that Armin did, in fact, say nothing wrong.

 “Erm, why not?” He sighs, “Look, I know you… worry about Mikasa,” Armin keeps his tone as neutral and veiled as possible, because worried is definitely not all Eren feels for Mikasa, “… but Jean is a good guy! And if anyone deserves attention from a good guy, it’s her.”

…

 ii.

 She finds him lurking near his locker, stuffing his crumpled papers in, probably wishing away their existence.

“That bad, huh?” She asks, hiding away her grin at his predictable reaction. Eren has always been predisposed too sulking - whether he was a 7-year-old who wasn’t the fastest on the field or 16-something and having just received his trigonometry results.

“… You look like you did just fine,” he mutters, not having to see the A+ on her paper to know that Mikasa had no problem acing the trig test (or any other test).

“You could just ask me for help, Eren. I could help you out for the retakes,” she offers softly, not for the first time.

He sighs. When he glances at her, dark eyes offering earnestly, he knows she means it without any pride or arrogance, but he isn’t able to suppress the prick of his own ego that has him mumbling, “… the mandatory remedial lessons should do just fine.”

…

iii.

When he shows up for class, he sees only a couple of others unfamiliar faces, so he curses under his breath at his own ineptitude towards mathematics for getting him in this situation and takes a spot at the back of the class.

The Support teacher - Erd, he calls himself, apparently too young to be addressed ‘Mr.’ or any of that - seems just as tired as the rest of them, sighing at the lack of answers, obviously frustrated at the complete lack of interest or gratitude of the teenagers in front of him.

So, 20 minutes into the 1-hour lesson, when the short blonde walks in, out-of-breath and apologetic, the sarcasm in his tone is biting. “You’ve already missed 1/3rd of this class, you might as well have stayed out entirely and practiced your cheer routines.”

Eren watches sympathetically at the visible cringe on Krista’s face and offers her an empathetic smile as she takes the seat next to him.

Later when they’ve been informed that the retake is just an assignment filled with proofs and average difficulty problems that they can do in pairs, he looks at Krista, the only known person in the room.

They weren’t that close, but they had quite a few mutual friends what with him playing basketball and her being part of the cheer team. So, when she says, “… see you at the library tomorrow evening?” with a pretty smile across her pretty features, he grins gratefully.

..

She doesn’t struggle with trig even half as much as he does. In fact, she seemed to be happy to do most of the work herself and explain her solutions - if he actually had the interest to understand them.

“I don’t understand,” he admits after she solves the 5th problem in a row effortlessly, “you seem to have everything down already. How come you didn’t pass the test?”

Her eyes skittered nervously away from him. “I was… sick,” she mutters. “I couldn’t really focus.”

He eyes her closely, observing the sudden change in her countenance. Usually Krista was all easy smiles, twinkle in her blue eyes. Now, she looks uneasy, unwell almost. Deciding it wasn’t his place to pry, “… Well, I guess I turned out to be the lucky one in all this,” he grins, “… I get to hang out with you and have you do my assignment.”

She rolls her eyes. To be honest, she’d enjoyed the past couple of evenings with him. Eren was easy to talk to, despite being somewhat of an airhead and being completely incapable of anything remotely math related. But regardless, he made her laugh and just about forget what happened the morning before she showed up for this test, with fresh tears choking her throat, and purpling bruises on her thighs.

“I guess you owe me then,” she quips back, smugly.

“… I definitely do,” he says smoothly, green eyes watching her in a way that makes her feel warm. “How can I make it up to you?”

Flustered, because she hadn’t expected his easy response, she mumbles, “… Dinner?” And with red cheeks hidden by her blonde bangs, she whispers, “I like pizza.”

…

iv.

She finds him at the end of the day, on one of the wooden tables outside the basketball court, chin resting in his hands, eyes glued to his laptop.

“… Hey,” she breathes, giggling when startled green eyes flash up to her, body jerking in surprise.

“Damn, you got me,” he grins, pushing his laptop away and leaning up for a brief kiss. She’s happy to return it, and she lets her fingers wind into his hair, enjoying it for a moment longer.

“Mmm,” she mumbles, “I saw you closing that browser window,” she teases, wrestling control of his laptop, “watcha lookin’ at?”

When she manages to open his browser history – much to Eren’s protest – her eyes widen. “Women’s dresses, spring collection??” She waggles her eyebrows at him.

“… It’s not for me,” he grumbles, deciding to make it painstakingly clear before Krista enthusiastically begins to tell him what dress would suit him the most – he knows his girlfriend, crossdressing would be absolutely acceptable, if not encouraged – and he watches her eyes feign disappointment.

“… Boring,” she sighs, rolling her pretty blue eyes, “I don’t see how you’re not curious about how you look in a dress,” – she gasps, hand flying over her mouth, “Wait… was that… a surprise… for me?”

“… Um,” Eren starts, intelligently, because the situation that was already awkward in his opinion, just became even more so. “Well,” he gulps, taking in the sparkle in her eyes, knowing fully well just how much she likes surprises, feeling guilty even thought he needn’t be, “itsformikasa.”

He hangs his head in apparent apology, but more so because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment flit across her features.

“… Oh.”

He chances a glance at her, and there’s no particular emotion per se, and it worries him, because she gets this faraway look in her eye sometimes, and he can’t really tell what’s going on, and they’ve only been together a few months and he’s not an expert in reading her silences –

“I see, is it for her birthday or something?” Her tone is measured, and she’s looking pointedly at the screen.

“Um… yeah.” Eren sighs, wondering what the hell was up with his own reaction. He had nothing to feel guilty about – where did that even come from anyway? – Mikasa’s his… family (or something). Shopping for her was normal. He did it every year. This isn’t something he needed to hide.

“Yeah, it’s next month,” he says, giving her a smile. There was no need for this to be awkward if he didn’t make it so. Besides, it wasn’t like he was buying her lingerie or something! (he brushed this thought aside faster than the red blush crept up his neck)

“Do you think, you could help me with it?” He blurts this out, partially in an attempt to distract the weird atmosphere, and also partially because he could really use the help.

Krista blinks. “Err, yeah. Sure.” She pulls up Mikasa’s profile on Instagram. “Let’s see,” she murmurs… Turtlenecks… Jeans… a ridiculously modest swimsuit that she wore to a pool party two years ago. The sexiest outfit on her entire profile was probably her in her tennis shorts and that had more to do with Mikasa’s undeniably ripped body than anything else.

She looks up at Eren, who’s still looking at her tentatively, green eyes unsure.

This whole thing was silly anyway, she thinks, offering him a genuine smile. He and Mikasa were close (and they lived together, which she did her best not to think about), but this wasn’t a surprise so it’s about time that it came up in some way in their relationship. In any case, she hadn’t felt any hostility from the raven-haired beauty and Eren was usually quite forthcoming about everything, so she didn’t really have anything to worry about.

“So, um, does she have a favourite colour or something?” She’s eager to kill the awkward mood and is grateful to see his shoulders visibly relax as he ponders.

“… Red, I think. Maybe, like, a darker shade. Sort of… maroon, y’know?” He thinks of the scarf he gave Mikasa when they were younger. It was a ratty, yet fluffy maroon thing which she was absolutely terrible at tying, but she wears it everywhere during the winter, even though his father had a bought her a better one at some point.

They peruse their options for a bit, and Krista picks out a deep red number, a shimmery satin one, with slinky straps and a slit that travels up an already high hemline. It wasn’t really a spring dress but more of a cocktail night outfit, and Eren is weirdly embarrassed thinking of Mikasa in it.

He eyes the screen incredulously. “… Somehow, I just can’t picture Mikasa wearing something like that.” He opens up another link, to a denim overall dress, “… now this, she would wear.”

“And that,” Krista retorts, “is why she’s still single. She has an amazing body; she should flaunt it.”

“… What would she wear it to?” Eren asks, unconvinced. (Also, what was wrong with Mikasa being single?) “… Student council meetings? Debate competitions?! I just,” –

“Parties, Eren,” she says, exasperated, “… it’s high school!”

“You know she doesn’t” –

“Drag her to some! C’mon, we’re going to be seniors soon. She’ll thank you for it!”

…

v.

Six hours later, she’s closing up her shift at her part-time job. It’s a job she’d rather keep hidden – from her friends at school and the law – because she isn’t sure what the age policy was in these kinds of establishments. It worked out because it was close enough to home, and between her and the bartender, the tips compensated the poor wages. Plus, the bartender – a slightly older girl named Ymir with a pretty fringe and a sharp tongue – was genuinely fan to hang out with. And she was surprisingly protective of the small blonde, particularly with the rougher customers, whom Ymir scared off quite effectively with her glares.

“So,” she says, as she scrubs the counter clean, “… I helped my boyfriend buy a dress today.”  

She doesn’t turn back to see her, but she can hear Ymir’s raised eyebrows as she says, cheekily, “… I didn’t realize you guys were into that stuff.”

Snorting, she replies, “Well that would be interesting. But no, it was for his, um, friend. Or something.” Or something, because sometimes Eren refers to Mikasa as his best friend, sometimes his family, and sometimes it just felt like… something else, basically.

She turns around to look at Ymir, who says nothing, continuing to rinse the rest of the glasses. “Her name’s Mikasa,” she continues, her voice getting oddly unsure, “They’ve known each other forever. They even… live together.”

“… What,” Ymir stares at her in disbelief.

“It’s not like that,” Krista finds herself sounding defensive, “Eren’s dad is her guardian… or something. Has been for some years. So, it’s not like they moved in together…”

She elects to skip the part where Eren’s dad is a doctor with Doctors without Borders and is barely home for more than a couple of months a year. She didn’t like the look Ymir was giving her anyway.

“So… they’re like brother-sister or what?”

“No,” she says, realizing that the word came out more vehement than she intended. But she knows that was definitely not the way Eren saw their relationship.

“… Krista,” Ymir starts, and the blonde can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s going to get all protective on her, “… I know you’re in high school, and… you’re dating – as you should – but you don’t have to waste your time on shady boys.”

At this she laughs because, “Eren’s not shady, he’s a nice guy,” –

“… You could get anyone you want; I mean look at you, you’re beautiful.”

The defense that was bubbling up in her throat suddenly stilled, because there’s something about the way Ymir just said that – called her beautiful – earnestly, quietly, and it made her feel funny. It took her breath away for a very brief second and replaced it with a warm flush that creeps up her neck.

It’s strange, she’s heard it before from so many boys with obvious motivations; Eren’s always calling her pretty, and complimenting her eyes or whatever… But when Ymir said it, and looked at her like that, honey brown eyes, deep with unnamed emotion, all she could do was avert her eyes.

…

vi.

It’s 7pm and the library’s home only to the nerds by now. The librarian is lax (and underpaid) enough to ignore the low buzz of two over-enthusiastic AP chemistry students that grates on Mikasa’s ears.

Ordinarily she’d just plug her earphones in and ignore the world to focus on the assignment at hand. But today she accepts anything to distract her from the scene earlier at home. And even though Armin’s sitting right next to her, supposedly doing his own thing, she doesn’t miss the worried glances he sends her every now and then, which she really doesn’t want to address.

Her feelings for Eren were a well-known secret by now, just as well-known as the fact that he clearly didn’t return those feelings, so she wasn’t particularly in the mood for Armin’s indulgent pity… regardless of how well-intentioned it was.

So, when its 8pm and the librarian is shooing them out, and she bumps into Jean, she’s grateful for the few extra minutes of conversation surrounding absolutely nothing important.

When they continue to the parking lot, their conversation having progressed from awkward conversation starters to an animated discussion on Jean’s tennis form, Armin’s well and truly realized that he has no place here.

After Armin’s said his goodbyes and Mikasa recognizes that she doesn’t mind staying away from home and possibly Eren and Krista in the middle of their 5th round, she asks Jean, “… so do you like Chinese food?”

…

When she walks in a little after 10 pm, cheeks cold from the night air, there’s a small grin on her cheeks, because she’s made a new friend today, whose company she genuinely enjoyed.

But when she enters the living room to see Eren fast asleep on the couch, she finds herself staring in the face of the reality she’d tried so hard to escape. It’s difficult to ignore the ruffled quality of his brown hair, mussed up in a way that could only have been achieved by someone (a very blonde, very beautiful someone) raking their hands through it.

She can’t help the wave of irritation that sweeps through her - so she doesn’t bother to soften her footsteps as she walks up the wooden stairs.

Minutes later, she hears his sleepy voice at her door. “Hey,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, “you were out pretty late, so I left you some dinner. We made pasta, it’s not as good as yours but,” -

“… I ate already,” she says, tone clipped.

“Oh.” He’s quiet, just watching her put her things away, and there’s irrational tears pricking at her eyes, anger, and frustration that she knows she doesn’t have the right to, so she doesn’t turn to acknowledge him. “… Mikasa, are you…,” he clears his throat, “… is something wrong?”

When she says nothing, he sighs, turning, “… Well, if you want to talk about it, you know I’m always here,” -

“… Could you please go over to Krista’s house next time?”

She colours, surprised at herself for her outburst of honesty. But her blush pales in comparison to Eren’s as he processes what she’s saying. “… This is my house,” he sputters, “… I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want to bring my girlfriend over.”

“Well, it’s not just ‘bringing her over’, is it?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “… What I do with Krista, in my personal space, is definitely not your business, Mikasa.”

“It is when I can hear it, Eren,” she retorts, as he shuts the door forcefully behind him.

…

vii.

It’s been two weeks since that… confrontation, and Mikasa’s barely spoken to him since.

She leaves before he does, makes sure dinner’s left out on the stove for him, whether he needs it or not, and locks her door when she’s done. And although he’s found himself staring awkwardly at that shut door multiple times, he’s never had the courage to actually knock.

He simply cannot comprehend this situation because despite the numerous arguments they’ve had in the past - it was always him, whining about something like a petty child and sulking till he got his way - she’d never truly been mad at him. And she’d never, ever, gone days without talking to him. And as he stares at the locker next to his (it was Mikasa’s) with a horrible ache in his chest, he is well and truly sure that he loathes this situation.

So, when small hands reach around his waist, enveloping him in a tight embrace, his subconscious reaction is to jerk back in annoyance. “I didn’t realise it was you,” he murmurs apologetically, rubbing her hands softly.

“… Who else would it be?” Krista asks, somewhat thrown off by this mood that had been festering for days now.

“You ask some very valid questions there, babe,” he mutters, a distracted half-smile on his face.

Taking a deep breath (determined to shake him out of his pensive aura), she whispers, “… You know, I don’t have work today.” She leans against him, reaching up to murmur in his ear, “we could hang out at yours for a while, if you want?”

She makes it clear what she means by “hanging out” by the way she presses up against him, and even though he’s responded with fervent enthusiasm to a similar invitation in the past, today he just averts his gaze, awkwardly.

Swallowing the rejection with a graceful exterior, she puts an arm’s length of distance between them. “… What’s going on, Eren? Your head’s been somewhere else all week.”

And before he starts to stay that it’s nothing, just that he has some stuff going on, she says, “… does this have something to do with Mikasa?”

His green gaze jerks up at her, startled with unfortunate honesty. “… I haven’t seen you talk to her all week.”

“…I,” he starts, but his throat closes up, for some reason, unsure whether he should really tell her what happened. He doesn’t want to put her in the middle of something that was clearly between him and Mikasa.

But with every passing second, the guilty look on his face only begins to feed the fears that she had successfully kept dormant all this while. “… Did something happen between the two of you?”

And when he looks into her eyes, bright blues seeping insecurity, he says, hurriedly, “… wait, I hope you aren’t thinking that we,” - he inhales sharply, wondering how he manages so successfully to upset the women in his life - “God, no. We had a misunderstanding, that’s all. She said something, I was pretty rude to her, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“And,” he murmurs, admitting it to himself, finally, “I’ve just taken too long to apologize.”

…

She’s barely finished washing the vegetables for dinner, when she hears the thud of the front door closing loudly.

(She remembers Carla reprimanding him every time, for not being gentler)

Mikasa has managed to avoid Eren successfully these past days, because she knows his schedule, knows that despite his complete lack of organization, he’s fairly predictable. And with his recent interest in a particular cheerleader, he almost invariably never comes home before 8.30 PM. So, when she hears him enter their kitchen at little over 7, she isn’t prepared.

She isn’t prepared because she’s been quite cowardly, saying things that she had no business saying, and then being unable to own up to it, unable to apologize to him. Because she knew that when she looks at him, she’ll feel the way she feels right now - taking in the sight of him, drizzle droplets fresh in his brown hair, as he runs a hand through it, his mouth twisting into an awkward grin. She knew she’d realize that her feelings for Eren were never really much of a choice, they just were.  

“… I brought your favourite dumplings from Li’s,” he announces. “And I brought an extra serving of the spicy soy sauce so we don’t have to fight over who gets the last bit.”

…

He’s grateful for the small smile that forms on her face when she accepts the dumplings (the peace treaty as he calls it in his head), and for the small banter that she indulges him in as they eat.

After they’re stuffed with dumplings and inconsequential conversation, he clears his throat, because he remembers he came home early tonight with a certain conviction.

But as she does with most things, she beats him to it. “… Eren, about the other day,” she looks at him earnestly, “… I had no right to demand that of you. I’m sorry.”

And when he’s still quiet, she mumbles quickly, “I don’t know what got into me that day, honestly, I,” -

“Don’t apologise, Mikasa,” he says, a strange disquiet taking over him as he replays her words, “… the last thing I want, is to make you feel uncomfortable.” Or to make you feel like you can’t demand what you want from me.

This is the part that settles into him slowly, that somehow, the one person in his life that he’s always felt he could ask anything of, could demand anything of, and actually receive it without fail… she didn’t feel that she could count on the same from him. And it twisted painfully inside of him.

“I appreciate that, Eren. But honestly, I’ll get used to it… so don’t worry.” She smiles, in that genuine way of hers, small lips, curving shyly, “… and who knows, maybe someday I’ll want to ‘bring someone over’ too.”

She laughs as she does the air quotes and even though he manages a small grin in response, all he can say, without really meaning it, is –

“Yeah… Of course, yeah.”

…

 viii.

 She takes her frustration out on the cash register. “… Damn thing doesn’t open when I need it to, and doesn’t close when I want it to,” she mutters under her breath.

 “You just need to show it some love,” Ymir says, amused, promptly closing the problematic register without any difficulty. “… Go sit, I’ll close up here.”

 She does as she’s told, pouting slightly, but she’s grateful for the older girl’s help and understanding. “So… want a beer before I close the tap?” Ymir asks with a wink.

 “You need to stop offering underage girls alcohol,” Krista whispers, scanning the room hastily.

 The brunette rolls her eyes. “You need to stop with the innocent act every time. You’re a hot cheerleader for god’s sakes, everyone knows what goes on at your high school parties,”  -

 “Ok ok,” she acquiesces, suppressing the blush at Ymir’s offhanded compliment and deciding that that there was no point in panicking every time they did this, “… but only if you join me.”

 “Cheers,” Ymir says, offering her glass to Krista’s and taking a generous gulp. “So, tell me. Boy trouble, again?”

 Krista nurses her drink slowly before taking a sip.

 To Krista, Eren was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t hover, he didn’t foam at the mouth every time she spoke to another guy, didn’t hound her if she didn’t pick up his phone call.

 Does he even care? Ymir had asked her once scathingly, but she had disregarded it, grateful for the freedom she felt in his embrace. Freedom from toxic attachment, from past trauma or unresolved baggage like the one she was destined to carry. When she was around him, she had felt different. Lighter almost, as if this persona that she had created for herself could actually have a shot at happiness after all.

 But lately she’d begun to wonder if she’d just been fooling herself… again. She’d begun to question if she had just convinced herself to see the promise of something that was never there.

 “… I thought this guy was one of the good ones,” Ymir says, watching Krista closely.

 “He is…” she sighs, “He is one of the good ones. It’s just…” she trails off, unsure if she should give voice to her thoughts. “Ah fuck it, I’m just feeling a little insecure, it’ll be fine…”

 “… Is this about that sexy flatmate of his?”

 She winces, feeling exposed. It often felt that way with Ymir. Like there was no point to any of the barriers she had worked so hard in constructing.

 “She is attractive,” Krista admits, begrudgingly. “… I’m only surprised Eren hasn’t noticed that.”  

 “… But that’s what you’re worried about, aren’t you? That he has noticed that of late?” Ymir narrows her eyes at Krista. “You should just ask him about it!”

 “I did,” she states defensively, “… and he said there was nothing,” -

 “… Oh, sure there’s nothing. I can’t believe he thinks he can lie to you and get away with it,” -

 “Ymir, I trust him, he’s my boyfriend,” -

 “But that’s the problem with you. You just trust everyone, and you let them walk all over you. You did this with Reiner and now with,” -

 “Ok,” she whispers, “Stop it, Ymir.”

 “… Krista, you need to trust your gut about this sort of thing. If your gut is telling you that he’s a lying asshole, then you should just dump his ass and,” -

 “… See this is why I didn’t want to tell you about this,” she cries, her voice rising In frustration. Because this is how it’s always been with Ymir, no one she dates is ever good enough, no decision she makes is ever smart enough.

 “You’re always shitting on my boyfriends. And I know you were justified about the last one, but,” her voice cracks just a little bit, because at the end of it all, she just feels weak, “… it feels like you’re just taking a massive crap on me as well.”

 “I didn’t mean,” Ymir starts apologetically, brown eyes remorseful, “… look, that wasn’t my intention.”

 She takes her hand, slowly, lets her long fingers intertwine with Krista’s smaller, dainty ones.  The crumpled expression on Krista’s features has her regretting ever opening her big mouth. But she was tired of seeing one person after another, enter her Krista’s life, and undo the progress she was trying so desperately to make.

“… The truth is,” she takes a deep breath, ready to unleash a truth that’s been stifled for so long, she can’t even remember when it first sprouted, “I think you’re pretty fucking amazing. And I see you wasting all your time and your feelings on these stupid boys who don’t deserve you.” The words come out quickly, rushed almost. A sharp contrast to how long they’ve festered in Ymir’s chest, growing and growing until these feelings knew no reason.

 Ymir doesn’t look at her, she keeps her gaze focused on Krista’s hand, afraid of what might happen if Krista understands the depth of feeling behind her words. But more important than her feelings, there were some things she wanted Krista to see clearly.

 “Did you tell him about your father, Krista? What he does to you when his wife isn’t looking?”

 Krista tugs on her hand, a wave of unbridled panic spreading at the mention of her father. “I trusted you with that information, Ymir, you promised you’d never bring it up,” -

 “… Did you tell him your real name?”

 She can’t answer this question, even though she knows the answer, knows it’s an emphatic ‘no’ - but she cannot answer because there’s an overwhelming lump in her throat, and it’s taking everything from her to barely keep it together.

 “… Let go of me, Ymir,” she pleads, and that’s when Ymir loosens her grip.

 “… You trusted me to keep quiet about your secrets - and I’m fine with that. I’m fine with doing anything you ask of me,” her teeth grit together, because she doesn’t know, Krista doesn’t know just how much she would do.  

 “You asked me not to do anything about the fact that your father is hurting you, and it even though it kills me, I listened to you. But now I see you hurting yourself in this farcical relationship with fabricated feelings for some boy who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, and I don’t know if I can be quiet about that anymore.”

 And because it’s grown too large, too much to keep inside of her anymore, she whispers, “I love you, Historia. And if you want me to let go of you, I will. But,” she brushes her lips gently against Krista’s cheek, “… You can trust me with your secrets, and your heart, if you’d let me, because I could take care of you.” She feels a warm tear roll down Krista’s cheek and her heart clenches, “… I could make you happy.”

 …

ix. 

 “… I really appreciate you making time for this,” she murmurs, as she watches him lay the white lilies at her parent’s grave.

 He always remembers, without her prompting, because the first time he’d come with her, she’d spent hours crying at their gravestone, telling him tear-filled anecdotes of the dishes her Mama cooked, the bedtime stories her Papa told, the flowers that they used to grow in their garden together (white lilies).

 “C’mon Mikasa,” he rolls his eyes at her, “… we do this every year. Why wouldn’t I make time for this?” And why the hell are you thanking me?

 She can’t really explain it to him, the possibly childish notion that she thought he might be too busy with his girlfriend to remember the death anniversary of her parents. She regrets doubting him, regrets that of late she’s been so clouded by petty jealousy, that she hasn’t truly appreciated how little he’s changed around her.

 “It’s ridiculous,” she confesses, softly, “… you’ve given me everything. A home… A family.” She smiles at him, somewhat blurry. “But I can’t help it, every year on this day, my mind always goes back to that… moment. I lost them… in what felt like the blink of an eye.”

 He tenses, as he always does when he sees her upset, or shedding a tear. There is a fundamental part of him that deeply despises the sadness on her features; it makes him feel helpless. So, he does the only thing he can - he wraps an arm around her, tucking her face into his shoulder as she snuggles into him.

 “I miss them every day. But you saved me, Eren,” she whispers, dark eyes looking up at him with a gratefulness that he has never known how to accept, and never felt worthy of. “… and now I have you.”

 Her voice trails off, almost wistful. “… I guess the world really can be cruel but beautiful at the same time.”

 …

 x.

 When he stops to think about it, he supposes it really is ridiculous it took them so long to get here. And by here he means - Mikasa wrapped securely in his arms, in his lap, on their couch, taking advantage of the privacy they’ve had all along.

 He feels her tongue flick against his - it makes him shiver - and he can do little more than just wrap himself around her tighter, and sigh into her kiss. Her fingers make their way into his hair, cradling his head, pressing sweet kisses on the side of his mouth, on his jaw, and on the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

 And because Mikasa’s always been a quick study (she’s learnt what he likes, what he’s weak for), he stills her exploration (very reluctantly) before she goes too far.

 “Are you okay…?” He whispers, rubbing a thumb along the dried tear stains on her cheek – a reminder of her tears, of knowing the pain that he’d caused her, bubbled quietly within him, having been quelled temporarily by the glorious feeling of having her in his arms.

 She laughs, shaking her head, “… I love you. I can’t believe I finally get to say it.” She rests her forehead against his, a happy smile forming on her lips.

 “… You could have said it ages ago; you know. No one asked you to keep it inside for this long.” Even though he teases her with his words, his lips drift back to hers, brushing softly, unable to stay away for too long.

 “… Well, you never know, I actually might have said it. If it wasn’t for, you know, you having a girlfriend.” He senses the eye roll, the teasing lilt of her voice, but he can’t help but regret the time he wasted. Because even though Krista was a dear friend, and there were no ill intentions there, now that he is here, chest to chest with the girl he loves, he only wishes he’d been here sooner.

 “You’re going to use that against me forever, aren’t you?”

 She grins in response. “… I have a question though.”

 “Shoot,” he murmurs, nibbling against her lower lip.

 “… Why’d you guys break up?”

 He groans, kissing her jaw testily. “… Do you really want to go into that right now?”

 She hesitates, torn between potentially ruining the mood and needing to know what happened. God knows, she had spent countless nights losing sleep over the details anyway. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay, I guess…”

 “It’s fine,” he says quickly, realising that if he wanted to set a precedent where she could ask him anything, then it‘s best he starts now, “… She’s in love with someone else. A girl, actually.”

 Her eyes widen, not having expected that turn of events. “… Please tell me you didn’t ask for a threesome.”

 “What the fuck, Mikasa, of course not!” He pulls back, offended.

 “Good,” she murmurs cheekily, “I’ve raised you well.”

 “Hmm,” he hums, “Speaking of ‘raising me’, you should probably stop saying stuff like that. Do you know that Connie asked if you were like a ’sister’ to me?”

 He grins, seeing the shocked expression on her face. That’s exactly how he had felt when he was posed that question, with a little mortification added to the mix. “… Is that really how everyone sees our… relationship?”

 His fingers drift to hers, where they rest on his chest. “We’ve been living together for a while now,” he caresses her knuckles absentmindedly, “Kids our age… they don’t really understand it, I guess. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

 “My turn: I have a question for you,” he murmurs. This is a question he’s long considered, stopped only by his embarrassment, fielding it from others only to put the vaguest labels on it.

 “… What am I to you, Mikasa?”

 The question throws her, because even though she’s told him candidly how she feels, that she loves him, she always has, he is asking her, right now, to define their relationship.

 The very notion, the expression that flits on her tongue, bubbles up in her heart with an exciting warmth, even though she hopes this is just temporary, that it will grow, that Eren is so many things and will be so many things to her that she cannot possibly define right now - “… My boyfriend, of course.”

- fin - 

A/N:  i've been really nervous to post em, because its just been so long, and the writer that wrote chap 1 is different from the one that wrote chap 2, and honestly i dont even know if there are inconsistencies. so my request to you, dear reader, is to please let me know if i have made any fuck ups in writing this - or if you have any ideas for pacing, or storytelling that could possibly help me improve.

also there will be a chapter 3 focusing on eremika’s sexual exploration~

[elvendara]

Choi Twins BD 2021

A continuation of my Werewolf Choi Boys Birthday fic

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 3

Short one cause I almost forgot! I might add more to this one at a later date, we'll see.

The twins sat. In front of them there were two keyboards, both men could use left and right hands on two separate keyboards, but how did their father know that? Saeyoung glanced at his brother, but Saeran stared at the monitor in front of him.

“Go ahead and wake up the computers.” Bak said. He stood behind them and Saeyoung felt an uncontrollable urge to tear his throat out. Saeran immediately swept his hands over both keyboards, the monitors in front of him woke from sleep mode, several tabs already open. Saeyoung followed suit, noting that they had access to the outside world. That was good. Though he was sure his father was smart enough to keep tabs on where the twins went. But if he needed them this badly, then whoever was watching what they did, wasn’t as skilled as the twins. He would bide his time.

“Now, what I need from you boys is information on the daughter. The only thing my men could come up with was a name and a birth certificate. Clearly she is a bastard, and the speaker of the national assembly is trying to keep her a secret.” Saeyoung rolled his eyes at the irony of that sentence. “It isn’t enough to expose the girl, he’s too well liked. I need more, and my instincts tell me the girl is the key. My instincts have never steered me wrong.”

“Except when you took up with out mother.” Saeran said, a sneer on his face. He turned to glare at his father, the intensity on his face made the Prime Minister take a step back before regaining his composure. He swallowed, shaking his head, looking into those green eyes felt like looking at a different man than the one who had opened the door. Of course, that was ridiculous.

“I doubt any of us would care to discuss your mother.” Bak growled, angrier that he had been made to lose his composure. “Find the girl, and the secret Hye is hiding. One of my men will stay in the room with you, others are posted outside the door and throughout the installation. Security is aware of you and are constantly watching.” He pointed to the ceiling in several areas where cameras were placed.

“What happens once we find your information?” Saeyoung asked.

“You’re pack is safe.” Bak answered.

“And us?”

“Well, now that I have you, it would be very difficult to let you go of such a resource.” He laughed as he walked out the door. A tall man entered and stood behind them. The answer didn’t surprise him. It was a logical conclusion. There were only two options for his father, kill them, or use them.