#missing her every day etc you know how it is to pine for a woman long dead | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wanduhhh · 2 years

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We Can’t

Chapter 12: Kisses For Breakfast.

You and Wanda are… complicated. Babysitter/ Mommy Wanda AU.

I hadn’t planned this to be the last one, but my motivation slipped away. I don’t think as many people are still invested and the lack of excitement makes me less invested too yknow 🫠. Its okay it happens!! Im more of a reader than a writer but it’s fun sometimes. Thank you for all the love on this, it truly melted my heart. Maybe it’ll show up for a little one shot here and there. Thank you thank you!

Warnings: angst, smut, language, 18+

Please don’t post my content without my consent.

Enjoy :)

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The night was spent with Wanda’s tongue buried deep inside you, sweaty hands grasping her hair. You had lost count of the number of times she had made you come in her mouth. It was so blissful. All you had pined for was to have her in your bed, waking up entwined with her; as you had only been allowed to do so a handful of times.

But when the sun broke through your room awakening you, you felt the opposite. You peeled Wanda’s arm from around your waist and swung your feet to the ground. Sitting at the edge of the bed with your head in your hands, you tried not to wake the other woman who was snoring softly. All your mind could focus on was the emotional tennis match she had commenced in your mind. Constantly in between knowing she was yours; and wishing her to be.

Thoughts ran through your mind, plaguing the happiness that had situated there. Of days spent in the Maximoff residence, watching Vision wind his arms around Wanda as she eyed you over his shoulder. You felt stumped at how much she truly had put you through, the intoxicating aura of the woman often masking how much she had flipped your life on its head. Your mental spiral was interrupted by Wanda mumbling about you being too far away, sleepily wrapping her arms around you. You lay beside her stiff as a board.

As Wanda slept on you had wondered what would come of this situation once she woke up. When she peeled her eyes open you realised she was happy to live in denial. Avoiding bringing up Vision, or the fate of her life. There were things to be addressed, a divorce, custody and a house to think about. You found yourself frustrated with the woman, groaning at her comical pout where you would normally find yourself swooning.

It occurred to you on this slow morning that you had placed all of your self worth within the arms of another woman. Allowing her to decide for you whether or not you were allowed to feel a certain way. You decided then that this was the last time you would feel that way. Beginning this relationship when Wanda held all of the cards, you scraped a deck together for yourself.

When it came time to talk like adults, you decided Wanda needed to know how you truly felt. Tears were streaming before you even opened your mouth. You took a seat across from her, not willing her touch to cloud your mind and mix your words. “Wanda we need to talk, and I mean actually talk not just fuck”. She gulped, silently willing you to continue. “I have felt so powerless this whole time. So fucking useless. I have had no stake in this whatsoever. Letting you lead the way every step of the way. I just feel so fuck-“ you raked your fingers through your hair hard enough that you felt your scalp prickle in pain. “I just want this to be equal. No more of me waiting for you constantly, my life has been on hold since I met you. I love you so much Wanda, but I don’t want to live like this anymore”.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Wanda throughout your speech, knowing that upon seeing her watering eyes you would stop in your tracks. When you finished and met her eyes, your heart clenched in your chest. Tears trailed down her cheeks and her eyes were planted firmly on the floor. After heaving a ragged breath she said “I understand. I’m so sorry I dragged you into this baby” your heart squeezed at her words. “I thought I had everything figured out until I met you. So content to live everyday of my life just being ‘fine’, but you dug me up” you let a sob out just hearing her. “You woke me up y/n, I finally know what it feels like to be loved. I just want everything with you bunny. I can’t wait to wake up everyday with you by my side. I love you.” You breathed a sigh of relief.

She took your hands in hers and spoke so earnestly, “we are going to do this together. Figure everything out side by side. I am yours, fully. We are going to be disgustingly in love everyday”. You let out a watery chuckle, your heart felt like it had been released from impossible clutches. You knew then that her words were full of truth. Excitement bubbles in you as you thought of the next step for you both.

Needing nothing more in the moment than to be as close to her as earthly possible, you threw yourself on top of her. Collapsing with your face in her neck, thighs bracketing her waist. Her hand trailed up and down your back breathing comforts into your ear; you were once again reminded of how this was her breakup and that you should be the one comforting her. You flopped beside her onto your back, noting her confused gaze with a quirk of your eyebrow. When you tapped your chest twice, her puzzled expression deepened. “Please mommy, sit on my face” you breathed; smirking to yourself as you watched her chest heave.

“Are you sure baby? I know you just wanted to talk” she cocked her head at you, you bit your lip at her smirk. “I’m sure, I just need you”. She leaned to whisper in your ear “dumb baby just needs her mommy hmm?” You nodded as you rubbed your thighs together.

Moments later when you found yourself with your tongue deep inside her, her head thrown back as she panted, you couldn’t believe your luck. She raised her hips up and down at a relentless pace, digging her nails into the headboard as she pushed her body. You wanted to tell her how beautiful she was in that moment, spill the words from your mouth. But you were all too consumed with bringing her to the edge. Her moans swam through your ears, making you hum inside her. Her resounding “fuck” and grind of her hips against your open mouth, had you dripping down your open thighs.

That’s how you wanted to comfort her, care for her. But Wanda wanted to care for you just as much. As you lay there naked and sweaty she braided your hair, cleaning you with a wet towel and kissing behind your ears just to hear the giggle you let out each time. She tried to leave you in bed to go and cook you breakfast, but when you trailed behind her she laughed and lifted you to sit you up on the counter. Giving you a bite of fruit every time she cut a slice. She made bad puns and put music on that she sang the wrong words to.

You were so enamoured that you couldn’t peel your eyes away for a second. When you noted the blush on her cheeks from your unwavering attention, you didn’t will yourself to look away. Her love language was definitely communicated through cooking, and as you sat on the counter being fed bites of pancakes by Wanda, you definitely felt loved.

She told you silly stories about using a nightlight til she was a teen, and you committed every detail to memory. Watching in awe at the way her hands floated with every word, trying to convey all the passion she held in her body. It allowed you to bask in the simplicity just for a second, your mind letting all of the drama slip away. Replaced instead with how Wanda’s eyes crinkled at the edges when she laughed at her own stories.

That night your bubble had well and truly burst when Wanda solemnly whispered to you she had to go back to the house. You immediately protested, not knowing anything about Vision’s personality; but not chancing Wanda being left alone with the unstable man. She agreed to let you go with her if you promised to stay in the car, that was good enough for you. So after a shower and a pep talk you both loaded into Wanda’s car and started on the way there. Her knee bounced so violently that you had to put both your hands on it to calm her down.

When she pulled up outside the house her breath had begun to come out in short pants. You wished to be able to go in and do this for her, protect her with all your might. But you knew this had to be her.

She took a deep breath, gave you a quick kiss and then made her way inside. Then it was your turn to panic, borderline hyperventilating at the overwhelming feelings.

The minutes dragged in and all you could do was stare at the front door. Barely blinking, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. When it opened your breathing didn’t calm down at all, there was Wanda sure but there was also Vision. Marching towards the car, a nervous Wanda towing behind him balancing a suitcase and a few bags. You got out to help her and muttered a soft “you’re okay” as you did.

Vision looked at you then, you could see the venom in his eyes. “Well y/n I have to say, I was unaware you would be caring for my wife as well as the boys when I hired you. If I knew you were so easy I maybe would’ve fucked you myself” Wanda’s sharp intake of breath paused your clenching fists. You knew in that moment it was more important to take care of the woman you loved, than beat the shit out of her soon to be ex-husband.

As she opened her mouth, most likely to lash out at the man, you grabbed her hand in yours and dragged her into the car. Kissing her once she was seated, just as a minor ‘fuck you’.

The adrenaline was pulsing through the car on the way back to your apartment, it felt like the two of you were in a romance novel. Running off to elope and live happily ever after. She told you the boys were at their grandparents, and as much as you wished they were coming home with you both, you were both grateful for the moment of peace within the chaos.

You felt yourself breathe your first true sigh of relief when you watched Wanda place her pyjamas alongside yours in the dresser. Feeing like you had finally found a moment of solace in amongst the madness. You finally had the woman you loved, and you couldn’t wait to spend everyday of your lives together showing her how she deserved to be loved.

Your head still ached when you dared to think of the repercussions that would follow, custody battles and what was sure to be a toxic divorce. But your heart ached for a whole other reason when you considered the other side to this. A new house together, raising the boys by her side. There was still so much to figure out, but when Wanda whispered how much she loved you, eyes closed and already half way to snoring, you felt nothing but pure happiness.

#wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #fanfiction #wanda x y/n #mommy wanda #fanfics #mcu fic #wanda mcu #wanda smut #we can’t

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ohworm-writes · 3 years

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hello! :) so u know how kuon has a crush on sniper right ? can i get an imagine where reader is jealous bc of kuon, cuz u know, her crush on sniper etc etc (sorry i'm just vv lazy at typing), and how sniper reacts to it ?? can u make it like they're still friends but have mutual feelings for each other as they hang out as a unit, and they get together in the end bc sum confessions happened !! sorry if u don't get it i'm rlly bad at explaining but thank u in advance if u do this !! <33

High-Rise Invasion/Tenkuu Shinpan: Sniper Mask Boyfriend Imagine

high-rise invasion/tenkuu shinpan masterlist

‼ Jealous Reader (over Kuon) + Make up + Confession ‼

Featuring: Sniper Mask, Yuri Honjo, Mayuko Nise (implied), Kuon Shinzaki (implied)

Warnings: frustrated Y/n, crushes, jealousy

a/n - good GODS this has been in my inbox for a while and i’m so so so sorry for not posting it way sooner! hopefully you see this anon, and i hope you enjoy!

content below the cut!

you had developed a crush on the man in the mask ever since you first joined Yuri's little group

you couldn't really tell what it was the drew you to him

he was silent, dismissive, and he was a Mask for goodness sake!

but none of that deterred you from the attraction you garnered for him

you always found yourself trying to interact with him

whether it was offering your help with something that he was doing, or simply keeping him company

most times he brushed you off, walking away and not giving you an answer

other times he silently accepted your offer

those times the two of you would sit in comfortable silence, just enjoying one another's presence

you cherish moments like these for a very specific reason

Kuon

now you had nothing against the girl!

... at first

she seemed nice enough, always eager to help, and full of ignorant innocence

but then you realized her (very obvious) crush on the masked man

the way she got flustered around him so easily

the way she clung to him like a lost child

at first, you thought maybe she saw him as a parental figure, seeing how young she was

but that thought was (very) quickly thrown to the wind when you saw her wrapped up in his jacket, blushing like the schoolgirl she was and giggling to herself

so what she liked him? you liked him too, maybe the two of you could bond over that!

that's what you told yourself

of course, you never acted on it

it was simple, you were too jealous to do so

you noticed how Sniper Mask welcomed all her little instances without a care in the world

not giving a damn when she clung to him

or batting an eye at her obvious fangirling

it pissed you off

naturally, you began to avoid Kuon

and Sniper Mask simultaneously

you avoided the two of them whenever you could

when you saw them walking towards you, you kept to the opposite side of the wall and walked quickly past them

when you all usually ate together, you picked up your food and ate outside

you were simply, undeniably jealous

you didn't think Sniper Mask cared about it, not that you could tell under his mask

but in actuality, he was confused as to why you avoided him all of the sudden

so, he opted to ask you one day

You shut the door to the dining room rather aggressively as you exited, but you couldn't care less. You let your body slump against the adjacent wall, your plate of food resting on your lap.

Today had been... exhausting, to say the least. Kuon was on her usual actions of pining over 'Mr. Mask', crossing your way a few more times than you would have liked. During your meeting earlier with her and Yuri, your fellow mouthless masked allies, she had the gall to talk on and on about how much she adored him.

You hated it.

You looked down at your food, a scowl finding its place on your features. You glared at it, pushing the pieces around with your fork, not noticing a door open and close right in front of you.

"Jesus, if that food was alive, it would be 6 feet under with the glare you're giving it." You hear a gruff voice call from in front of you. A voice you would rather not be hearing right now.

You continue to move around the food, staying silent as the man awkwardly stands in front of you, unsure of what to do with himself in this situation. "Is it, uh, okay if I sit here?" He asks, which finally makes you look up.

He had a plate of food between his own hands, his jacket gone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mask covered his face, per usual, but it seemed much more lopsided than usual.

You give him a shrug in response, looking back down at your food again. He stands there for a moment, before taking a seat right next to you, your knees almost touching. "You don't mind if I eat with you, right?"

His question makes your eye twitch. Was he seriously trying to be all buddy-buddy with you now? You shrugged again, not giving him as much as a single word.

You heard him sigh, setting his food to the side before he speaks again. "Alright, what's going on?" He asks, making your body tense up. "Nothing." You shoot back, scowling.

"What happened to the Y/n that stayed up and talked about their life for hours? What happened to the Y/n that told me horrible jokes to try and get a reaction out of me? Huh? What happened to them?"

That broke you.

You were angry, furious even. Was he trying to blame this on you? You didn't do anything wrong! If it wasn't for Kuon, maybe you would still be that person! If it wasn't for her, you could still be friends with him! You could be-

"What?" You hear him say softly, much softer than his previous tone. Shit, did you say that out loud? "Yeah, you did." He says again, looking at you with a concerned expression on his face, not that you could tell.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out. I just- I’ve been-" You stutter, trying to find the right words. He laughs at that, actually laughs at it.

His laugh is hearty, warm, almost inviting you to laugh along with him. You don't, but he quickly composes himself, making your head turn towards him.

"Why on Earth were you jealous of Kuon?" He asks honestly, watching at how the invisible gears turn in your head, searching for an answer. You sigh heavily, running a hand across your face as you shake your hands while you speak.

"I just- she’s always there with you. She's latched onto you 24/7! I can't get 5 minutes alone with you before she comes barging in." You rant, frustration evident in your shaky voice.

"I just wanted to be your friend, be close with you. I can never do that because she's-she's there." You groan, hugging yourself with your arms. "I sound like a selfish idiot now, huh?"

You laugh dryly, frowning. He sighs, but a smile plays at his lips. "Y/n." He begins, his hand resting you your forearm. "You know she would never purposefully do that. She just, she has an infatuation with me I guess."

He sighs dramatically, earning a chuckle from you. "But." He tells you, watching your eyes as he speaks. "That doesn't mean I didn't miss you."

Your heart skips a beat at his comment, face flushing softly. "Kuon also misses you. You might not have caught onto it, but she looks up to you." He explains, smiling at how your expression softens, mumbling a soft 'she does?' to him.

He nods, laughing once more. "Come on, have dinner with the rest of us. We can't have you sitting alone out here anymore." You roll your eyes, but take him up on his word. He leads you back to the other, Kuon frantically waving over to the two of you the second you pass through the door.

"Y/n! Come sit with me!" She yells excitedly. Maybe you were wrong about her.

after that interaction, the three of you were all on much better terms

yes, kuon still had her habits, but he toned them WAY down after you explained to her how it made you feel

she teased the hell out of you for it too

you, of course, shrugged it off

but you never told her that she was wrong

you were happy to be on good terms with Sniper Mask again

he made a lot more time for you

your old interactions coming back at full force, and some new ones

he loved to take you on little walks on the high rises

he also made it a point to teach you how to shoot his rifle

which was terrifying, but exhilarating

you fell for him harder and harder every day

one day, you ranted your feelings out to Kuon

and while she wasn't surprised, it warmed her heart to see how much you loved him

yes, she crushed on him too, but that didn't take away from the obvious connection she saw between the two of you

unbeknownst to you, Sniper Mask had come to her about the same things

his usually cold demeanor broke whenever he talked with you

he genuinely enjoyed your company, he wanted more of it

and then some

so, she put a plan together

operation "get Mr. Mask and Y/n together" is a go!

she took it all very seriously

making sure you guys get paired together for scouting missions? that's all her

convincing Sniper Mask to get you little gifts and things? of course

overall, the best wing-woman you could ask for

however, the one thing she didn't have anything to do with was his confession to you

he could have used her help with it, that much was clear

but he wanted to tell you how he felt, no help necessary

Sniper Mask had told you earlier this morning to meet you at his room when the sunset before he rushed to get out of your vicinity like you were a plague. Granted, it hurt your feelings, but you couldn't stand him up.

You knocked gently on the wooden door, stepping back and waiting patiently for it to open. After about a minute, while you had heard nothing, you went to knock again.

Your efforts were proved useless as the door swung open hastily, revealing a disheveled Sniper Mask. His usual blazer and fedora were long forgotten, his hair messy, strands pointing this way and that. His mask sat lopsided on his face, still covering it fully.

"H-hey Y/n." He mumbled out, you offered him a wave as he awkwardly shuffled to the side, opening the door as an incentive for you to come in. You stepped inside, walking to the center of the room as you heard him close the door behind you.

You turned to speak to him again, but those thoughts were cast aside as you felt his hands settle onto your cheeks and his lips molding with yours. It startled you, you're eyes open in shock as you looked at him. His mask was completely off, thrown somewhere in the room, but he didn't seem to have a care in the world.

You quickly melted into the kiss, bringing your hands up to gently hold onto his forearms. He hummed, taking a moment before pulling away, leaving the two of you to gasp for air as he rested his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes to meet his, full of adoration.

"I, uh, I think I'm in love with you?" It was more of a question, but you took it happily. You laughed softly, your fingers rubbing small circles in his forearms.

"Was that what that was?"

#sniper mask #sniper mask x reader #tenkuu shinpan #tenkuu shinpan x reader #high rise invasion #high rise invasion x reader #tenkuu shinpan headcanons #high rise invasion headcanons #sniper mask headcanons #yuka makoto #yuka makoto x reader #yuka makoto headcanons #headcanons #x reader #anime x reader #request #worm answers #kuon + reader

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ermine-writer · 2 years

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Bi!Abuela trying to discretely figure out if Isabela's new friend is a friend or a "friend" so she knows how often to invite the young woman over for dinner. Bi!Abuela trusting her family but still having residual fear from her childhood, but this time she actually talks with Isabela to see if Isa is okay with Abuela acknowledging Isa's WLW-ness in front of the family.

I don't know if I fully did what you wanted but here we go! Post-canon obviously.

Nieto- grandkid/son

Alma had made mistakes. She’d always known that. She knew she wasn’t perfect. Knew she was fallible. Knew she hadn’t deserved Pedro or his sacrifice or the miracle.

And yet here she was, fifty years later. Three healthy children, two son-in-laws and six beautiful nietos. A wonderful village. A marvelous Casita. An entire life that Pedro had never gotten to see or enjoy but they only had because of him. Not a day went by that she didn’t miss him or wish she could’ve traded places. Wished he’d gotten a chance to hear Pepa’s laugh or see Julieta’s smile or see one of Bruno’s plays. Wished he’d seen Dolores’ first steps, Luisa’s birth or Mirabel’s quinceañera. Fifty years of living and loving that Pedro had never gotten to partake in.

Fifty years of suffocating her family and holding on so tight that she’d nearly snuffed out their light. Made Bruno hide in the walls to protect himself and Mirabel. Made Luisa so stressed over her value as a person that talking her into a break involved making her helpful in a different way (reading to Antonio, cooking with Julieta, etc). But the one she felt the worst about, was convincing her dear Isabela to marry a man she didn’t love.

Alma felt bad about all of it, but somehow the idea that Isabela would live an entire life with a man she couldn’t care less about (while her poor prima pined from afar for the love of her life) hurt Alma in a different way than all the others. Maybe because the time she’d had with Pedro was something she would look back on every time life felt like too much. Because Pedro was still her rock fifty years later. Because Love was the entire reason she’d broken her familia in the first place.

But she was trying to be better. She’d actually talked with the familia, and when the words weren’t enough she observed and watched. Watched the way Isabela carried herself in town. Watched how differently Isabela acted with girls and boys her own age.

If Alma was being truthful, it scared her. Isabela acted like Alma herself had as a girl; giggling with other girls, polite but short with boys. The more Alma watched, the more she realized Isabela had always been like this. Dolores had gotten flustered and blushed around boys but Isabela had always been poised and collected. Alma had dismissed it as Isabela being the more confident of the two, but now she could see it for what it was. That Isabela was like herself and didn’t really like boys; not the way Luisa, Mirabel or Dolores did at least.

It terrified her. She knew people were different, knew that the Encanto was a safe place. She also knew that even if the Encanto wasn’t a safe place, the familia was safe and con una hermana como Luisa, Isabela didn’t have anything to worry about.

Nothing to worry about except for her abuela's disapproval.

Alma felt despicable.

So she watched Isabela, saw her hanging out with one girl from town. Then she asked Dolores just to be sure. The simple fact that Dolores was hesitant to say anything, would only confirm that the two were friends and she hadn’t really heard anything, was enough for Alma. She got the nietos to bring their friends (and Friends) to dinner but Isabela would never bring anyone.

As a drastic measure, she asked Isabela to take a walk with her one day, insisting it would be a great break and chance for them to talk. They were just walking by the river, making small talk about nothing important. Not for the first time, Alma realized how little she knew about sus nietos and how little they knew about her.

“When I was young I had a best friend named Ana María.” Alma started, Isabela tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought your best friend was Isabela. Mamá said that’s where I got my name from,” she said. Alma smiled, closing her hands over Isabela’s. She’d taken to wearing darker colors and the strikingly blue dress she had on suited her nicely. Alma was proud of how much she’d grown since getting to try new things.

“Sí, I had a friend named Isabela, she… she didn’t make it to the Encanto,” Alma said. It still hurt a little, all the familia y amigos she’d lost. All the people who never got to enjoy the peace and safety they had. Isabela whispered an apology, squeezing Alma’s hands. “But before her, I had a different… Friend, and her name was Ana María,” Alma could still picture her face. She’d had long red hair, big brown eyes and a crooked smile. She loved to dance, especially in the rain and every time she twirled her hair would fan out around her.

“You must’ve been close,” Isabela said. Alma was smiling in memory and turned to her nieta, squeezing her hands again.

“We were,” she said. Well, it was now or never. “I was close to her in a very similar way to how close I was with your Abuelo Pedro,” Alma said, watching Isabela’s face for the moment it clicked. Isabela had her brow furrowed then her eyes got wide and her jaw dropped and it was like she was looking at Alma for the first time.

“¿Abuela? Y-you? And a girl?” She kept stuttering trying to workout whatever her question was so Alma sat them on a rock by the river, facing one another. Isabela was still gaping, coming to terms with something that had taken Alma a long time (and an even longer conversation con sus hijos) to understand. So Alma just smiled, running her thumbs over Isabela’s hands.

“Sí, mi vida. She was my favorite person. We would sit on the roof watching the stars or the sunrise.” She left out her mamá not approving, and her papá’s forlorn expressions. It was a different time and she’d moved on. She’d had Pedro, and she’d loved him harder and fuller than she’d even thought she was capable of.

“Wow, Abuela. That-That’s…cool,” Isabela said, though Alma could tell by her face that ‘cool’ wasn’t exactly the word she wanted. But what word was there for how to feel when your abuela admits to liking girls?

“Isabela, I didn’t want you to marry Mariano just for la familia,” she looked Isabela in the eye, cupping her face with a sad smile. “I just wanted you to be happy, mi vida. I wanted you to have what I had, what your mamá y tía have.” Isabela was tearing up and Alma wiped them away with her thumbs, pulling the girl into a tight hug. She knew it wasn’t enough, that it might never be enough, but it was a start.

“Abuela,” Isabela whispered, her face hidden in Alma’s collar, so Abuela just hummed her acknowledgement. “Tengo una… amiga. But she might be more than una amiga.” Alma smiled and pat Isabela’s head, running her fingers through thick tresses and nodding.

“That’s fine, mi vida. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. And I’m so sorry for ever convincing you otherwise,” she said. Isabela squeezed her tighter and Alma could feel the relief and forgiveness in the sag of her nieta’s body, even if she didn’t think she deserved it. Eventually, Isabela pulled back, giving Alma a watery smile and sniffing as she hid a little in her hair.

“M-maybe I could bring her to one of our dinners… sometime?” She asked. Alma smiled, nodding and tucking Isabela’s hair behind her ear, cupping her nieta’s face. It wasn’t a time for hiding.

“Sí, Isabela. I’d love that. And we don’t have to tell la familia anymore than you’re ready for. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you have to hide, but it is your story to tell in your own time.” Isabela was back in her arms, holding on tighter than she had in years. Alma held back, the regret and guilt in her chest loosening just a little as Isabela thanked her a million times over.

“Her name is Lucia,” Isabela said. Alma choked back her tears. Just the way Isabela said her name, she knew that this girl was something special and that Isabela had found her Pedro. Had found the light of her life.

#Encanto #encanto spoilers #madrigal family #abuela madrigal #alma madrigal #isabela madrigal #encanto fanfic #Ermi writes

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yokohamabeans · 2 years

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Chapter 1: arrow in my wing

We know how the story ends: in all versions of it, the crane leaves her lover in tears.

(In which: Kakuchō meets you at his worst. Eight years later, you meet him at yours.)

Pairings: Kakuchō x F!OC/Reader (ft. Haitani Ran x F!OC/Reader)

Series Tags / TW & CW / Notes: Dark/Mature Themes, Bonten!Timeline (or rather, pre-Bonten / Rise of Bonten Era), TR Manga Spoilers, Angst & Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Organized Crime, Blood & Violence, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Japanese Culture, OC will have a name but this will largely be written in 2nd POV, Character Study, Hostessing & Forced Prostitution, etc.

(WC: ~4k)

Series Index | Read on AO3 here!

2007

Ninagawa-san, who played the piano and told the best stories, seems well. It’s been—what, three years?—three years since he last saw her at the shuttered gates of the orphanage. Her hair has turned another shade lighter but her laugh lines are also deeper, and she is still wearing the shawl that the children had patched together for her sixtieth birthday. Plagued with aches and pains every day, she says of herself while single-handedly loading a sack of rice into her cart; spends most of her time at ikebana class and missing the laughter and off-key singing of the kids. (If only we had more funds, she sighs.) Then, she turns the question around and for the life of him, Kakuchō cannot think of anything worthwhile to say.

He is not afraid of disappointing her with the fact that he spends more time at the police station than school, or that his hands have grazed more flesh than paper. He’d tell her all about it with a proud grin if he could do so as Kurokawa Izana’s right hand man in the greatest gang of Japan. Who cares if adults still shake their heads at their lives if they are living their dreams? Who cares if it ‘wasn’t what they hoped for’? Who fucking cares?

But—

Izana has died. He and Tenjiku are rubble under a mound of sand and Kakuchō is left with nothing in his life he can talk about. Journey to the West cannot be chronicled without Sanzō Bōshi. Son Gokū cannot tell a story in which he lets Sanzō perish. So, with his eyes cast down, Kakuchō simply tells her that he’s getting by. Ninagawa-san nods and doesn’t ask for more. When they reach the doors of the supermarket, she takes a bentō box—the only cooked item in her cart of groceries—and presses it into his hands with a motherly firmness that cannot be refused. Take care of yourself, Kaku-chan. She bids him farewell there with the promise to continue praying for him and Izana, as she always does for all her kids. (She must not have known about Izana.) I’m happy to see you again.

The plexiglass doors part and cold air surges at him. Kakuchō is by nature a sentimental boy who greets childhood friends with silly smiles and grows irate when they do not do the same, but now he doesn’t even have the will to think ‘me too’ for the woman who once taught him songs and read him to sleep. Ninagawa-san will always be a face in his mind but their run-in just now is yet another occurrence he no longer feels anything for. Kisaki Tetta didn’t miss his heart with his bullet on the night of the Kantō Incident—he’d fired three shots straight through it. It’d bled itself out on the wharf, spilled and trickled out to sea never to return. Kakuchō remembers waking up the day after with full memory of everything that's happened and the white of the hospital walls had him convinced, for one fleeting moment, that he must be in the afterlife. He remembers this moment clearly because it was such a relief, like the first gasp of air upon breaking through a blanket of water. He remembers this moment clearly because it is the last time he was anything more than dazed and numb. He remembers this moment clearly because it is a fantasy that is rarely far from his mind.

When news of Sano Shinichirō’s death reached his ears, Izana cursed his name fiercely. He never should’ve come to me! Izana would scream over and over again, worse than he once did when Sano still breathed. I would’ve been better off if I never knew him! Beneath the Black Dragon King’s earnest smile hid a cruel trickster who’d take your hand at the gates of hell and promise that you never have to look back again. And when your scars have grown soft and thin from the comforts of heaven, he’d push you right back into the abyss to suffer alone. You get it, don’t you, Kakuchō? You understand, right? Kakuchō never answered because with Izana right in front of him, he didn’t.

But now—

Ah, Izana. You’re the cruel one…

Kakuchō is abruptly met by a moldy JR East emblem and it occurs to him that his walk from the supermarket just went by entirely unnoticed. Kokudō Station welcomes him back with its cavernous entrance, which gouges into a dull, unremarkable street like a black hole. He’s found himself at this place so many times in the past year that custodians in the area greet him with the familiarity of a colleague. They are kind to him because he’s never really been much of a nuisance, is as quiet as a ghost and: how in god’s good name can they be anything but kind to an orphan with a scarred eye? But Kakuchō bristles at how their faces melt with pity when they catch him sitting on the steps of the station alone. People think of compassion as a virtue when really, it is just superiority in disguise. Pity can only come from a higher ground; not equal and never below. The sound of I’m sorry fills Kakuchō’s fists with such an urge to hit something because this life he’s led for Izana isn’t anything to be sorry about. They were great. The sky was within their reach. They were so close, so close and—

None of it really matters now.

Whatever. He knows the people at Kokudō Station mean no harm with their incessant life advice anyway. He’s just grateful that they let him loiter instead of shooing him away like a feral cat.

It is three hours too early for dinner, but Kakuchō supposes he should finish the bentō while it is still warm with heat and Ninagawa-san’s kindness. As he steps towards his usual spot at a corner of the station, he peers into the plastic tray: chicken katsu, for him to win—Ninagawa-san still enjoys her puns, clearly. The thought almost tugs at the edges of his lips.

“That looks good. Care to share?”

The voice presents itself from the shadows of the station like a memory. It is a dry drawl that Kakuchō can recognise upon its first note. Leaning against the ticket booth is Haitani Rindō who, as he always did a year ago, looks as if he’s a minute away from dozing off. Perched on a crate beside is the elder Ran whose light smile, if anything, has become even more unreadable. “It’s been a while, brawler,” he greets, twirling one of his braids.

The last time Kakuchō saw them, they were beating down chumps in black boilersuits together. For old times’ sake, he decides to afford them some courtesy. “When did you get out of jail?”

“Hmm... About a couple of months back?” Ran wonders, glancing at his brother, who shrugs. “We honestly don’t remember.”

Rindō drags his gaze across the greying arches of the ceiling above them. His glasses shift when he creases his nose at a cobweb speckled with dust and insect droppings. “Madarame’s dogs said you’re often seen around this dump.”

Kakuchō is already frowning, reminded of why he didn’t bother saving their numbers. “Just tell me what the both of you want.”

He has known, from the moment Izana introduced them, that he’d hardly get along with the Haitani Brothers. Colleagues? Sure, but outside of the gang they shared nothing in common—and this was a sentiment the lofty bastards made sure everyone had. He didn’t like how they exchanged snide glances every time others were around, how they called themselves Tenjiku but refused to wear its colours, how they called Izana Captain to his face but gave orders behind his back. He didn’t like how he was forced to drive his fist through Rindō’s guts so that they’d stop looking down their noses at him.

“Always to the point. Can’t we catch up like old friends?” Ran sighs and gets up with a pat of his clothes, which annoys Kakuchō as much as Rindō’s comment. “Come to think of it, we never did have a proper goodbye the last time, did we? With us being ferried to jail and you to the hospital and all.”

“You did, aniki, when you thought he was dead. I didn’t.”

Ran continues as though his brother never opened his mouth. “One of the first things we did when we got out was visit Izana’s grave, you know. We were hoping we’d run into you there too.”

Kakuchō narrows his eyes—Ran has always been the difficult brother. Rindō is a rude asshole but Kakuchō doesn’t dislike rude assholes because he can see their hearts on their sleeves: Rindō smiles only when he wants to and speaks his mind without regard. Ran, on the other hand, gives words that are as pretty as they are empty and sly and is never clear about what he stands for. Kakuchō hates dealing with people he must decipher.

“Like I said, cut to the chase.” He pushes past them and they follow him to a corner of the station’s corridor, where he has a paint-splattered chair set up. “I heard about it: Terano South is recruiting former Tenjiku members. Tell him that my answer is no. Now leave me alone.”

“And why not? With all of us around,” Ran starts and from the cheek in his smile, Kakuchō just knows where the sentence is headed, “won’t you say that Rokuhara Tandai is practically Tenjiku in its second generation?”

How dare he. Kakuchō’s palms and fingers grow hot and tight with blood, knuckles infested with an itch to relieve. His punches are rarely fuelled with rage but in that very moment, he’d love nothing more than to do unto Ran what the older Haitani did at the Battle of Ashes in Roppongi. These brothers, Mochi, fucking Madarame and even Mucho—with their heads always to the ground in fear, it probably made no difference whether Izana or some other monster sat on the throne. They understood Izana’s ambition but with the precedence of their own, they never bothered to know his reasons; it didn’t matter who’s bringing them to the top as long as they get there. The Tenjiku they each served was not the same one that Kakuchō fought for.

His intent to hurt Ran must’ve been palpable because Rindō is now poised like a python, ready to strike. Ran however stays infuriatingly relaxed. “Ah, that came out wrong,” he taps his head with a simper, “what I meant to say is that Tenjiku is not dead.”

“What?” Kakuchō snaps. He keeps his fists curled by his sides, sensing that there is more to it: Ran still has his airy smile and careless eyes, but something in his tone tells him to listen.

“Tenjiku was not just Izana alone, you know. You were part of it as much as he was.” Something, if it wasn’t Haitani Ran, more... sincere. “The Tenjiku that you and Izana wanted—you may not need to achieve it with South, but you can achieve it through South. After all, teams and gangs are nothing but means to an end.”

Kakuchō stills at his words. They come vaguely familiar to him, like seeing a face and thinking of an entirely different person. That all depends on you, Hanagaki Takemichi whispers, appearing in his blonde, marsh-eyed self from the hospital a year ago. Kakuchō has turned this message around so many times in his head to make sense of it only to conclude that he just couldn’t bring himself to. You are Izana’s legacy—this is what Takemichi was trying to pin on him, wasn’t he? What he was trying to pin on him so carelessly? Kakuchō has confronted enough people with his scar and tragic history to know that the words of comfort they offer are never actually for him but themselves; he’d said something which made Takemichi uncomfortable and Takemichi scrambled for something, anything to respond with.

Izana saved your life.

If Takemichi truly thought for him, he would realise what a cruel curse he’d cast: the perpetual, immutable reminder that Izana died so he could live. That Izana died, so he could live. Izana, who desecrated his parents’ grave because he did not want their son to think about anyone but him. Izana, who robbed all the toys in the orphanage because he was the only one allowed to have things. Izana, who flipped the local beasts belly-up because he must be the only one standing. Izana, who crumbled and gasped for air because he could not bear the idea of love as something to share. Izana, who looked into the mirror and imagined the Jade Emperor, ruler of the heavens.

Izana, who, despite it all, decided that Kakuchō’s life was more important than his own.

He refuses to make sense of it.

(If Son Gokū ate the flesh of Sanzō Bōshi himself, he should not deserve the immortality it bestows. If Son Gokū let Sanzō Bōshi die on their journey to Tenjiku, he should not be worthy to inherit it.)

“My answer is no.” Kakuchō says again.

Ran does not point out the holes in his voice. Instead, he draws a long breath and stretches his neck up at the ceiling with the vigor of someone who’s just spent himself. “Well, I tried to make you see the light in being part of Rokuhara Tandai. It would be easier for you if you’d just join us willingly.”

“I’m not.”

“You really don’t have a choice.”

“I’m.” The warning comes again. “Not.”

Ran shakes his head as though he’s just read something pitiful in the papers. Something pitiful and predestined, like a disaster or an accident. “South is not someone you say no to.”

“If I didn’t have a choice,” Kakuchō growls, anger sparking in his throat, “what are you two even here for?”

The brothers share another of their glances and Kakuchō turns a second closer to leaving. Rindō shrugs and rakes a hand through his blonde-and-blue shag. Kakuchō has spent enough time with him to know that it either translates to Do as you like or I don’t care or both, because the two do not actually differ much in sentiment. Of course, Ran speaks for the two of them: “we thought you’d appreciate a heads’ up.”

…

“Huh?”

His words come so plainly that they strip Kakuchō of his.

“We thought we could make it less painful for you,” Ran says, so simply without fare nor sarcasm nor intent, that Kakuchō can only blink to make sure he is still talking to Haitani Ran and not an imposter.

“Why?” he lets slip. He thinks he knows the answer, but dares not admit to it because: it’s the Haitani Brothers, who chose to dye their fleece black, who did not care for anyone bearing a family name that is not theirs.

“Why, indeed,” Ran muses, tapping on his chin. The smile he has is a little warmer than what Kakuchō’s used to, and it makes him wonder if he’s actually seen it before. “Tenjiku was a fun ride. I guess... we got fond.”

He does not explain further. Neither does Kakuchō need nor want him to.

With nothing else left to say, the brothers nod in agreement to leave for home. “South will be coming for you soon. My bet’s on tonight,” Rindō pipes, uncrossing his arms and extracting himself from the wall he’s latched on. He brushes his back in annoyance, which has grown white from dirt. “Brace yourself. Izana was a monster, but South’s got years that he doesn’t.”

“And do us a favour,” Ran adds over his shoulder while his brother hops over the station gate. “The next time you see us, pretend that it’s the first in a while, alright?”

And the Haitani Brothers slither away just like that, just as insidiously as they came. Insidiously, because they’ve left Kakuchō with nothing but worms that gnaw on his brain. Worms like the looming, imminent trouble that is Terano South, and worms like dust-covered memories of Tenjiku where there are more smiles than smirks and more beer than blood.

Worms like the realisation that he’s walked away from the Kantō Incident relatively trouble-free because the Haitanis, Mochi and even fucking Madarame kept their mouths shut to the police, or anyone, when it came to him.

True to prophecy, Terano South lands at dusk, heralded by the roar of an engine that echoes through Kokudō Station like a peal of thunder. His entrance is framed by a nimbus of exhaust smoke and the fire-like glow of his motorcycle lights, and he wastes no time spoiling for war by waving Izana’s name around loosely.

Kakuchō has long heard rumours of the blue-eyed monster who brought with him a body count and an age of terror from Brazil. Those who met him spoke in whispers of his brute strength and cruelty—unparalleled was the word they used. Terano South is a being straight from the Ashura Realm whose life is controlled by a lust for battle and violence and power. He’d littered the ground with bodies of the S-62 at juvie without so much as a scratch and many do not doubt that he’ll do the same with Sano Manjirō and the rising Kawaragi Senju in his crusade for Tokyo. He is a fast-approaching storm who will pummel down on the city until everyone is wet with blood.

“Hardy little cockroach, aren’t you?” South snarls, knuckles hacking at Kakuchō’s jaws and torso like a machete. But Kakuchō cannot agree; just half an hour with this beast and he’s more broken with pain than when he had a bullet in him. He is a demon as they say, striking Kakuchō with such speed that he might actually have six arms, and loving the crunch of flesh and bones so much that he should need three faces to express his joy with.

South rams his battered body into a recycling bin with the force of a van and garbage explodes around them like confetti after a match. With his good eye curtained in blood, Kakuchō can barely make out South’s impending form but instincts tell him that he has a fist raised. They also tell him this fist may very well be the last one he takes in this life.

…But that’s fine, right?

(Tenjiku is not dead.)

There’s nothing else left to take any more fists for, anyway.

(Izana saved your life.)

So that’s fine, isn’t it?

(It’s ‘our’ era… okay?)

Isn’t it…?

“Wait, South!” Kakuchō yells, holding a palm up with his last dregs of strength. “It’s my loss.” I’ll join Rokuhara Tandai, he doesn’t find the breath to say.

(My body moved on its own.)

South’s face twists and glints with teeth. “Why, that’s all I needed to hear.” He shrugs a shoulder, as if wringing out a knot from a warm-up, and steps away so that he’s no longer eclipsing the underpass lights above. Kakuchō’s hazy vision turns bright and his lungs grow with air again.

“Remember, dog. Kurokawa Izana is long dead,” South’s words toll through the tunnel, forcing him to listen to them over and over and over again through the darkness.

“I am your new king.”

Kakuchō’s eyes crack open at the break of dawn, stirred awake by, in succession: a biting cold that commands the air in the absence of a rousing sun; the slow, drowsy rumbling of the first trains; and a cresting soreness that burrows through his skin and into his bones. The cold is most unbearable because it’s what he feels first with his layers of nerves. It washes over his bare skin (of which he has a lot) like icy water and lingers on the open, bleeding wounds of his body—but the real torture comes from being too immobile to do anything about it. He can’t decide if it is pain or exhaustion that’s locking his joints and limbs, or if he is just slowly wasting away from the raw chill of Kokudō Station.

So, like Son Gokū under the Five Elements Mountain, Kakuchō can only bide his time until he is set free, either by his own hand or some Bodhisattva's. Six hundred years pass, and the world shifts from a shadowy tundra where laboured breathing is all that he hears, to a hot jungle that flares with sunlight and noise as insects, animals, humans and machines all compete to become the loudest. Kakuchō is kept awake through it all by an incantation that tightens around his head with the decree that he is no longer Kakuchō of Tenjiku, but Kakuchō of Rokuhara Tandai.

Finally, it is not the buzzing of appalled commuters nor the sense to lick his wounds at a cleaner part of town that drives Kakuchō up from the bed of trash he’s laid all night on, but the overwhelmingly primal need to drink something other than his own spit and blood. The crushed aluminum cans that have tacked themselves into the flesh of his back fall in a trail after his agonising walk to the vending machines, which are cruelly situated at the other side of the station’s corridor. Kakuchō is mildly relieved that most of his cuts are too dry to leave any drops of blood on the floor. He’d hate for the custodians in the area to find another thing to trouble themselves or pity Kakuchō for.

At long last he arrives at a vending machine, a rattling, flickering ancient thing that is not checked on as often as it should be. It asks Kakuchō for his order like a scowling, croaking, chain-smoking old hag at the counter of a snack bar: Cola, Oi Ocha, UCC Coffee, Georgia Coffee, Calpis, Pocari or just plain I Lohas; whatever he wants—as long as he can pay for it. And when Kakuchō digs into his pockets for coins, his hands come out grasping only lint.

There is only one thing he can reply with: “FUCK!” His knuckles bloom with yet another lesion, planted by the machine’s plastic armour when he slammed his fist into it. What a sick, fucking joke, Kakuchō thinks as he staggers away. He gains a few steps before collapsing under his own weight, his bare shoulders scraping against the sharp bricks of a wall, chest heaving and exposed in submission to the universe to shout what he does not have the strength to anymore: You win. You fucking win!

“Hey.”

Kakuchō jerks at the unfamiliar voice, a natural, reactive jerk to a voice coming from someone standing right before him. His eyes, blurry with blood and sweat, struggle for a bit to focus on the pair of shoes pointing directly towards his. When he’s able to determine that they are small, scuffed and meant for school, he gingerly raises his head to take in the other parts of the stranger: long, slender legs with reddish knees, a skirt that’s fraying at its hems, a white, white, white blouse, and a bottle of Pocari that drips tantalisingly with condensation.

“The vending machine gave me an extra,” the stranger explains. Their voice—her voice?—falls lightly, so lightly on his ears. “It must be because you hit it just now.”

Bullshit, Kakuchō wants to challenge; he’s messed around with vending machines enough in his childhood with Izana to know that they are stubbornly secure and tight with their dispenses. However, he is too thirsty to care or say anything, so he snatches the bottle from the stranger’s hand and empties it down his throat in one go.

He can feel the stranger watching him, but he cannot make anything of it. She—he decides from her delicate features and sailor-fuku—is just watching him, eyes and face blank and opaque above his.

She considers him quietly for a while, then makes her thoughts known.

“You’re hurt,” she says. “My house is not far, I can patch you up there if you’d like me to.”

Glossary of Terms / References Used | Next Chapter

A/N: Forget RanRinZu. Kakuchou was there with the brothers right from the very start, so I wanted to explore their relationship a little more. I actually didn't intend for it to focus so much on Kakuchou, but it just happened because I love this poor boy so much. The OC's POV will come next chapter, and will be told in Second POV - I'll switch between this and third as I tell more of Kakuchou's story too. Also, Buddhism and folklore is a big motif in TokRev so I wanted to weave that in this story. I don't wanna sound too...mansplainy so I didn't include a glossary of the references, but if you guys think I should, please let me know! Other thoughts and comments are also greatly welcome. :) Stay safe y'all, from both COVID and Wakui-sensei's plans for TokRev...!

#Tokyo Revengers #Tokyo Revengers Fanfiction #Kakucho x OC #Kakucho x Reader #Kakucho #Haitani Ran #Haitani Rindou #Kurokawa Izana #Terano South #Fanfiction #requital of a crane

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wolf-and-bard · 3 years

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The Geraskier Soccer Parents AU of my dreams (in an early morning strike of weird-brain):

-Geralt knows he isn't the best dad ever. He tries so goddamn hard, but his job is demanding and consumes so much time and even with Ciri being seven already, he still has essentially no clue what he's doing. He sometimes falls into bed, half-dead, and she is the one to give him a good-night kiss. He sometimes forgets she prefers cheese and puts ham on her sandwiches. He is sometimes too happy to have her sleep over at her friends rather than invite them to their house. He doesn't read her all the children's classics, doesn't go trick-or-treating with her, doesn't even pretend Santa Claus is a thing. He isn't the best dad ever. He tries.

-There is one thing he never, ever fails to do and that is take Ciri to soccer practice. Ciri picks up and drops hobbies, interests, even tastes by the week, still unsure what she wants to pursue, but soccer isn't only her favourite pastime, it's theirs. Practice is twice a week and they have a ritual for it. Geralt picks her up from school and drives her there, she tells him about what the dumb boys in her class said, how her art project is going etc. Geralt is there throughout practice, tucked in between Foltest - a guy who is constantly worried for his daughter Adda to get hurt and also very much anxious for her to do well - and Tissaia - a woman who has not one, but three girls in Ciri's age group and several more in others, and knits like a magician - and watches. He takes notes, silently cheers for Ciri.

-After their games and while Ciri changes, Geralt chats with her coach Vesemir - who used to be Geralt's coach, but now prefers to train the girls' teams - about the progress of the team, upcoming tournaments etc. Sometimes when Vesemir is indisposed, Geralt even leads the practice. When Ciri is all done, Tissaia usually has another hat or mitten finished and Geralt and her drive with their girls to whatever food place the girls are in the mood for. They have an early dinner in which Tissaia lectures the girls on their form and in which Ciri is sometimes allowed to sit on Geralt's lap - but only if Fringilla or Yen don't tease hear about it - but in which she definitely gets to steal his milkshake (Geralt hates milkshakes). Geralt only praises her when they're back in the car and Ciri tells him he's too much of a softie with her and should be more like Tissaia. Should maybe marry Tissaia. They both laugh because that is never going to happen.

-Life is good that way. It's not perfect, it's not without bumps, certainly not without tears and scrapes, but whatever the job, whatever injury Geralt carries with him, however long he has to drive, he never, never ever misses soccer practice.

-The season's just kicked off in the year of Ciri's eighth birthday when Geralt and her arrive early on the field to find the stands empty save for a girl in the most ridiculously colorful excercise clothes and blond hair that is braided intricately around her head. With her is a man, maybe five years Geralt's junior. Ciri bolts towards them with a bright grin and Geralt is hesitant to follow. He knows neither the girl nor the man, but from what he can gather she wants to join the team which is just what they need as they're one girl short this season. "Hi, I'm Ciri, I adore your braids." Geralt holds back on the eye-roll. It's nice Ciri can make friends this easily, but his house already is a shrine for role-playing and board games, dolls and random DVDs and another friend means more things Ciri will want to try out. "Thank you," the girl replies and tilts her head to better show them off. "My uncle Jaskier braided them for me, I'm sure he can do yours too." Both girls look up expectantly at the man and Geralt only really notices him then. He is averagely built with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. His floral print shirt has three open buttons and his pants barely reach his ankles. He has the look of a flippant music teacher or a hipster coffeeshop owner. His eyes meets Geralt's and, wait, did he just wink? "I'd love to, dear," he says in a smooth voice that absolutely does not go straight to Geralt's guts. Geralt turns on the spot and decides to pressure check the balls, but he can hear the others giggling as Jaskier braids Ciri's hair. "I'm Priscilla by the way. What's up with your dad?" - "Oh, don't mind him, he's bad with meeting new people." - "Very intense." That's Jaskier. Oh, Geralt will show him intense.

-Ciri invites them to their after-practice dinner. Geralt wants to begrudge her that, but she and Priscilla have latched onto each other in record speed and Jaskier actually fights Tissaia on some of her more strict stances and he braids Yen's and Sabrina's hair too, only Fringilla doesn't want him to touch hers which he respects. Geralt and Tissaia glance at each other. Come to a silent agreement. They may not befriend Jaskier, but he's sunny and so good with the girls and they can use someone like him among their ranks, someone who doesn't have Calanthe's tendency for swear words or Crach's tendency to break out beer in the middle of practice or even Nenneke's tendency to relate everything to the workings of god.

-Jaskier is as faithful as Geralt, perhaps the only one who shows up every time without fail. Shani's parents only drop her off and Crach switches between Cerys' and Hjalmar's practices and Tissaia sometimes texts Geralt to pick up her girls. Jaskier is there, every time, earlier than any of the others. He chats with Vesemir about his day-to-day, brings home-baked cookies for everyone, he cheers and whoops and tries very hard to understand soccer even though it's evident he doesn't. Geralt never wonders why it's him and not Priscilla's parents that come, it's none of his business. He begins to tolerate Jaskier, but he knows that is where he has to draw the line. He has his hands full with Ciri and his job and his brothers too. He can't afford friendships that extend beyond the field.

-Jaskier doesn't let him off though. He always takes the spot next to Geralt (technically an improvement over Foltest's sweaty visage) and prattles on and on, at least until the game begins. When it does, Jaskier divides his attention between the girls and the stack of paper on his lap which he annotates during practice. It's often either sheet music or the illegible scrawl of pre-teens or wonkily drawn instruments. Jaskier already told him, but from that too it is obvious that Geralt's hunch was right, he is a music teacher. Geralt finds his eyes darting to Jaskier's long fingers, nimble and calloused from the various string instruments he plays. Finds himself glancing at where Jaskier's tongue peeks out in concentration. He listens to the man's ramblings and hums his replies and comes to dislike the days when Vesemir isn't there and he has to focus all his attention on giving the girls a good practice. Not that he doesn't want to, it's just that having Jaskier at his back unnerves him.

-(Jaskier for his part doesn’t care at all about soccer, but he cares about Priscilla so he convinced her parents to let him take her; after that, she said it would be fine if he dropped her off and picked her up again, but Jaskier pretends he is super invested in the sport and the team and he is, but mostly he’s invested in charming Geralt)

-After an entire season of mutual pining and obliviousness, Tissaia decides she's had enough and rallies the other parents. She has Foltest organize a big party at his country house, has Nenneke promise to look after the girls (the woman doesn't drink) and has Crach whip out the finest spirits he has in storage. Calanthe makes a phenomenal playlist and it's Tissaia's job to get Geralt to the party (Jaskier's not a problem) and dress up nicely. Only Aridea, Renfri's stepmother, refuses to pitch in, but she's been a bitch anyway.

-When Geralt picks up Jaskier at his downtown flat he has to grip the wheel of his rover hard in order not to short-circuit. Jaskier has done something to his hair that Geralt can't name but that makes him go woozy inside. He wears a plain shirt that compliments his eyes and hugs his body just right and he looks high on life with color in his cheeks and the most dazzling smile. He's gorgeous. "Darling, don't you look dashing," Jaskier says excitedly and props his feet up on the dashboard, only after kissing Geralt on the cheek. Which is not fair. "Likewise," Geralt mutters, then blushes furiously. He didn't want that to come out, oh no. Jaskier either didn't hear or acts like it and they drive in silence to Foltest's country house. Well, aside from the songs Jaskier hums under his breath, some new composition no doubt.

-At first, Geralt thinks it's a nice enough party for someone who doesn't like parties. Foltest's grilling burgers, they all have cocktails, the music is mellow. Not that that stops Jaskier from swirling an already quite drunk Calanthe over the terrace in dazzling moves. Geralt wants to be swirled like that. "You really have it bad, don't you?" Crach comments when he notices Geralt staring. Geralt downs his beer (he's no cocktail drinker) and tries pointedly not to stare at how Jaskier's swinging his ass around.

-The buzz makes it easier and he relieves Foltest at the barbecue for a bit. But then Jaskier walks up to him, a little short on breath and grinning his most flirtatious little grin. It gives him fucking dimples. Sigh. "Hey you big strong man," Jaskier says. He smells like pineapple and coconut, but isn't even a little drunk. "Jask," he says, pointedly flipping a burger. "Foltest says he has an old karaoke machine in the shed, but it's too heavy for me. Help me?" - "...fine." Geralt gestures for Foltest to keep up with the meat and he and Jaskier make their way along a garden path that winds through thickets and by a small pond. The shed is painted blue and white and Geralt and Jaskier find it very much cluttered, but not dirty which is nice. Geralt only understands it's a trap when it's already sprung on them. The tiny click of the look is almost inaudible over Jaskier's anxious commentary of their search for the machine. There is only one small window and no light Geralt can see. Fuck.

-"Ehm, Jaskier?" he reaches out and gently touches Jaskier's shoulder which has the other man yelp and jump. Which doesn't bode well for what Geralt has to tell him. "I think we're trapped." The effect is immediate. Jaskier goes rigid, his breath catches. Is he afraid? Claustrophobic perhaps? Shit, so he can't be in on the joke. "Jask?" - "Geralt. I know we aren't the closest, but I need you to hold me right now." And he launches himself at Geralt. Maybe he is in on the joke? No, he's trembling too hard for that. Geralt catches him and does as asked. "I am absolutely going to die," Jaskier whines into Geralt's neck and Geralt can't help a small chuckle as he rubs Jaskier's back soothingly. This is... surprisingly nice for a trap. Also likely Tissaia's doing. Geralt has a rare idea. "What if I distract you until someone finds us?" he murmurs against Jaskier's hair and Jaskier draws back a little. In the half-dark his eyes glisten, widen when they meet Geralt's. "You would?" - "Close your eyes, Jaskier." Geralt feels a surge of daring, perhaps granted by the intimacy and seclusion of the situation. He catches Jaskier's lips with his own. When they part, Jaskier grins, shaking from something other than fear. "I thought you didn’t much like me," he whispers. "I thought I got on your nerves." - "Idiot." They kiss again and, faintly, Geralt can hear someone cheer from outside.

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lady-eny · 2 years

Text

TITLE: TIME TO TIME (4/?)

Some tags: Canon compliant, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Minor Mikenana, Veterans, Canon-typical violence, Character Study, Love to hate, Hate to love, Mutual pining

Summary:

When Hange met Levi, little did she know everything that would come after.

Not just titans and the end of the world, but their own personalities, problems, and not to mention those developing feelings none of them want to acknowledge.

Over time their relationship changes, for good and worse. But at the end they always come back to each other.

It’s only a matter of time.

—AKA the LeviHan journey. From meeting to friends, to something more, to hating each other (or do they?), to rekindling their relationship, etc. —

Cross-posting on: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Notes: 👀Some conflict may be coming next chap... Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very much appreciated.

Chapter 4: Best friends to… something more?

Can feelings go on without one’s awareness? Is there something we can do to stop them? There certainly should be; we should be able to decide, and our body to obey.

Yet, if someone remains ignorant to the nature of their actions—the reason behind their overflowing concern for a person, how much time they spend together, and the annoyance that comes when someone else appears to be better suited for them—how could they stop those feelings?

One little slip—only a small advance is necessary… and everything changes.

“I need to tell Levi this!” Hange exclaims, her eyes wide open. She roses to her feet and is about to rush out when Nana takes her arm.

“Shh!” Nana looks around and pulls her down. “No one else knows!”

“Really?”

“Almost no one else. And besides, Levi isn’t even here, remember? He went to the capital with Erwin.”

Hange’s shoulders hunch. For a second, she forgot that Erwin and Levi were far away and that this has been the longest week of her life. Who would have thought the barracks were so boring?

“You don’t miss him, do you?” Nana wriggles her eyebrows, holding a laugh within.

“I always miss my friends.” Hange stirs in her sit. “Like when you left to visit your mother. I cried for you every single night.”

Nana giggles. “Sure you did, I heard you guys even went out to party! And I don’t remember anyone saying you used to wander the corridors all droopy in those desolate days without me.”

“I don’t do that now!”

Nana dismisses her words with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, don’t say it loudly. I heard it from Mike, who knows it cause… well, cause he’s Mike and he owns a supernatural olfactory sense.”

“Unbelievable.” Hange openly stares at the subject of their conversation, a tall woman with strong arms at the other side of the Mess Hall. She’s one of the oldest—and best—veterans from the Survey Corps. “All this time I thought she fancied Acton. Or Molly.” Hange chews a piece of meat.

“You and I, both. Remind me to never come close to Mike if I ever have a lover to hide.” Nana sighs and buries her head into the hard table. “I’m tired. Should I get a lover?”

Hange almost chokes with the hot meat in her mouth. Clears her throat. “Ehhh, Nana? Did something happen with Gelgar?”

“He wants to take some time off. To work on himself, he said.”

“Oh. Nice,” Hange says. Nana’s eyes get watery, and alarm races through Hange’s veins at the sight. “I mean, how do you feel?”

“Why does he need time off? Can’t he work on himself while being with me?”

“Look at the bright side. Maybe…” Hange oughts to choose her words wisely. “Maybe being alone would prove to be better? Or, getting to know someone else?” It’s now or never, she thinks. “What about Mike? He…”—loves you infinitely—“…is a great guy.”

Nana frowns. “Mike?” She shakes her head. “He’s a good friend, but… Gelgar said that even though it’s a time off we should remain faithful. I don’t want to do something behind his back.”

At least she tried.

“Hey, Nana, do you think developing some sort of canyon against Titans would be effective? Imagine—” Her thought process is interrupted by a corp who hands her a note. “What’s this?”

Another note? Her fingers feel numb, cold overtaking her.

The corp shrugs. “A man told me outside that it was for you.”

“Who? Is he still there?”

“He just gave it to me and left.” He hurries away.

She opens the note and sees the very same font from a week ago. ‘Stop researching nonsense or face the consequences.’ The first one was vaguer, having read ‘Stop or die’. Now she knows what it exactly meant.

“What is it?” Nana asks.

Hange crumples the paper into a ball in her fist. “Nothing.”

It is nothing—probably a joke or something. However, the message leaves her in no mood for chatting. After waving goodbye to her friend, Hange finds herself exploring the corridors—although she isn’t down, as Nana suggested. It’s just a little harder to gather the energy she usually has, lately.

Erwin asked Levi to be his companion for this meeting, and along with Shadis and some others, they’re returning in no time. They’ll bring news about the budget for the corps. Good ones, she hopes.

She slams the front doors open and, outside, the fresh air slaps her face. Takes a deep breath and smiles. A short dark figure runs to her feet.

“Brownie!” Hange knees on the ground to caress the dog, who puts his pats on her chest. “What are you doing here?” Brownie is… clean. And somewhat wet. “Did… did you get a shower? Where?!”

This could be essential for their investigation! If Brownie’s owner just showered him, that person must be close! Hange sidles through the yard, looking for wet earth or a living person. Again, there’s no one. She surveys the warehouse, the stables… nothing.

“Hange? What are you doing?”

Erwin cocks his head to the side while Hange slides out from under a cart.

“Erwin! I didn’t know you guys came back.” She stands up and dusts off her pants.

“An hour ago.”

But what is Erwin doing here, at the entrance of the barracks? Her eyes narrow, and her gaze scans around until landing on the shrinking figure of a woman parting off. Was she talking with Erwin? Who is she?

“Marie,” Erwin says as if hearing Hange’s inner mind. “She’s an old friend.” His tone and features, though, aren’t those of someone who recently met an old good friend. A bad one, perhaps?

“I see.”

Erwin stiffens. Studies Hange, and something switches in his face, as if a decision was taken.

“I was in love with Marie for many years… but this,” his hand points to the barracks, “was bigger than that love. Bigger than anything. If I hadn’t given her up, I wouldn’t be able to be here, and I wouldn’t be this dedicated to our duty. We wouldn’t be slowly advancing to our goal. You understand that?”

Hange bites her lip. Why is he telling her this? Of course, she understands. Erwin has always been a source of admiration; her friend, yet also someone to trust and look up to. After all, his vision is one of a free humanity, and he has given his everything for that. How could Hange not relate? She didn’t know he had to give up such a thing for this, but it doesn’t change a piece—if anything, it’s an example, a reinforcement of her beliefs.

Giving up stuff like that is the right thing to do, isn’t it?

“I do.”

Erwin’s eyes penetrate her as if trying to deliver another message, to communicate a deeper meaning without having to utter it.

“You agree with me?”

She nods, a line appearing between her brows. Why does it feel like he’s giving this conversation way more importance than she does? It’s not like she has anything to give up? She’s hyper-focused in her research and the corps. Avoiding love, relationships, and the sort isn’t difficult at all.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

They amble side by side back to the barracks.

Hange’s neck erects. “Levi! He came back too, right?”

Erwin exhales, rubbing his eyes. “He did. He must be in his room, as he got sick on the way back and—”

“What?! How bad is he?”

She doesn’t stay longer, not even for an answer. Her feet are already striding to his room, mouth dry, and uneasiness building in her stomach. Sick? Levi doesn’t get sick. She’s never seen him sneeze even if surrounded by dust!

Hange speeds up her step, unaware of how Erwin shakes his head in frustration behind her.

She enters Levi’s room like a storm, potentially triggering a heart attack from his roommates, that since weeks ago have made a point of sleeping in their room—Hange is pleased that they finally became good comrades. It took too many chats for them to agree…

Levi lies on his bed, covered with a blanket to his chin, cheeks flushed and sweaty. He doesn’t open his eyes nor move at her arrival. She puts a hand on his forehead, and as expected: he’s burning.

“Didn’t you check him? He has a fever!”

“We… he didn’t want us to disturb him. We were too afrai—respectful to go against his wishes,” one of the roommates dodges.

She snorts. Respectful, right.

“Please, bring some water and cloths. And call the doctor!”

It’s disturbing to see him this weak and pale, dark circles remarking the whiteness of his complexion. His eyes always hold so much force… yet when they’re closed, he looks like a child. A child that snaps whenever a damp cloth meets his skin, but a child still.

Night has covered the brightness of the day. Levi’s roommates decided to stay away until he recovers—which, contrary to what she expected hours ago, could be pretty soon. The doctor checked on him hours ago, and since then his skin has more color. His fever hasn’t returned for a while now, and overall, he appears to be much better.

As displayed by his scowl.

“I don’t need to eat soup,” he says through gritted teeth, preventing the spoon from entering his mouth. His facade shatters by a cough attack.

Hange adjusts her glasses, unwavering determination on her features. “The doctor said something hot could help.”

“Then I’ll drink tea,” he says, voice hoarse and nasal.

“This is far better for your health!” She directs the spoon to his mouth again, and he turns his face away. “Pleaseeee. I cooked this especially for you.” She flutters her eyelashes, trying to convince him.

Levi darts his gaze to the floor, and she sees him swallow. “Here’s too warm. Open the window.”

“It’s open. Maybe your fever is coming back?” She leans in to touch his forehead, which is indeed hot. He shifts away from her quickly. “Argh, too bad. You were getting better.” She bends to get another damp cloth from a bucket with water on the floor.

“Why are you still here, anyway? It’s late, four-eyes.”

“What if you… choke on your cough while I’m away, or something?” Apprehension sips into her tone. The mere thought of leaving him never crossed her mind. And whilst it’s unlikely for him to die in her absence, now that the idea appeared it makes her stomach churn. As irrational as it is, the idea of Levi getting worse—or dying—is too much for her to envision. “Or forget to drink your remedy?”

He keeps silent, watching her as she squeezes out the cloth and places it onto his forehead. He blinks rapidly as if overwhelmed by some strong emotion. Or it may be the coolness of the cloth.

“Thanks.”

Hange jerks a shoulder. “Do you want to hear the story I always read when I was feeling sick?”

“Who reads when they’re feeling sick?”

“It was about this lonely princess…”

As she retells the tale that helped her through those days, Levi’s eyes start getting heavier, until they don’t open again, his breathing even and slow. Hange brushes away the hair on his forehead, and feels his skin—it’s cool. Her muscles release the tension that has been cramping her all afternoon and her posture slumps. She sits on the floor next to him and closes her eyes, leaning onto the leg of the bed.

When she’s unable to force her eyelids open again, she lets her head fall, the last thing in her mind being Brownie’s shower, and what will Levi make of it when he gets better—because there isn’t a possible world where he wouldn’t.

And so, she sleeps, lulled by the calm breathing of her friend.

***

The wind whistles in her ears from the speed, freezing her cheeks and burning her eyes with dryness. They jump from tree to tree with the vertical maneuvering equipment, dodging branches. Green leaves shake out around them, swirling to the ground at their tails, and raising an earthy smell. The only reason they’re able to fly through the woods at this dark hour is their training; a newbie wouldn’t be able to see—or rather, sense—when the next trunk is approaching among the gloom.

Hange howls to the moon, enjoying herself, but her scream cuts short when Levi surpasses her like a lightning, ruffling her already messy ponytail.

“Whaaaa—?! It’s not fair!” She was winning this, for the first time ever. Until he decided to fly at his natural speed, that’s it.

Ahead, he looks at her from behind his shoulder.

“You’re sluggish.”

She speeds up to catch up with him. “I’m not. I’m always going to be slower compared to you.”

“Tonight, you are slower. I’m not being fast. You’d surpass me if you were paying attention.”

“I am!” But she isn’t, and she knows it. She’s usually focused on their training sessions, but not this one. She’s restless, her throat closed up, no matter the fresh air prickling her skin. She can’t stop thinking about the date, and what it carries far from this place.

“…”

“It’s just that,” she says after minutes, “today is a special day. I was thinking about the past.”

“What ‘bout it?” Levi asks, nonchalantly. He slows down a little to hear her.

She jumps to avoid a branch. “Sometimes I wonder how life would be if I didn’t join the Corps.”

If my parents would still talk to me. Well, not that they did it that much, before.

“You’ll be tormenting someone else.”

Her humorless laugh resounds through the woods, voider than she expected. It was the best she could summon, but he still didn’t buy it. Maybe the others would have.

“Past is in the past,” he states, wrinkling his nose when they fly over the corpse of a dead beer. “If you don’t like it, you can only act now,” he adds uncomfortable by his own words.

Hange takes a cleansing breath, this one able to slip through her throat, straight to her lungs.

“You’re right.”

She repeats his words in her head. She’s happy as a Survey Corp—the happiest, actually. Doesn’t want to change that. And besides, there’s so much more she has to get done. She doesn’t regret her choices, nor devoting her heart to free humanity. It’s only that, on days like this, nostalgia takes over.

Hange wonders about the life she left behind, and worries. How is her father’s business progressing? Is her mother feeling looked down again? How is her father’s health? Today, what are they up to? On his birthday he liked to take the family out to dinner; one of those rare occasions where he deigned to talk to his daughter. Probably the only good old memories Hange holds dear.

But she still doesn’t regret leaving. Never will.

“So…” Levi breaks the silence that she hadn’t realized had taken over them. “… you’re choosing another shitty path?”

Hange’s mind stops working for a moment, trying to find sense. Choosing another shitty path? What?

Something clicks, and she starts giggling.

The giggles grow and grow, and soon, she’s laughing out loud. Abruptly, Levi comes to a halt before her, and her heart along with him. The movement is so fast that her eyes widen in surprise, and she loses control. Tries to turn around, to keep her balance, but ends up falling in a voiceless scream.

Smack! Hange hits the surface on a mud puddle with a loud thud, her butt taking most of it. She flinches at the flares of pain shooting through her legs.

Next to her, he lands like a feather.

“You’re filthy.” Levi scowls at her, yet doesn’t show disgust; his face is a mask of neutrality, but something anxious stirs behind his eyes. He knees next to her and starts palming her whole body a little frenzied, dirtying his hands in the process.

“I’m fine.” Her butt hurts, but otherwise, nothing seems broken. “And I ain’t leaving the Corps.”

He takes no notice of her phrase but for a little twitch in his brow, a little loosening in his jaw.

Still, he doesn’t stop inspecting her. His hair is at her face while he searches for wounds or the like—a mischievous smile lifts the corners of her mouth. She grabs his arm and uses all her energy to push him down, throwing him to the mud with her. Hange guffaws non-stop at the splash of his fall, and later, at the grunt of his voice.

Levi watches his foul shape and purses his lips into a severe line.

“You… you’re a disgusting pig.” He jumps up and dashes back to the barracks, limbs stiff to avoid getting dirtier.

“Hey! Are you leaving me here?”

He ignores her, but Hange gets to him in a matter of seconds, and adapts to his step, laughter still stirring inside her chest.

Later, clean and freezing after a shower, both of them sit at their usual spots in the kitchen.

“I want to go out so bad,” Hange groans, looking at the window.

“You come from outside.”

“I didn’t have time to look up to the stars enough.”

“Go, then.” Levi holds his cup in his own peculiar way and sips the hot tea.

“Would you go out with me?”

He makes a noise.

Hange isn’t taken aback by that. “Ohhh, pleaseeeee! It’ll be sorrowful to see this precious night all by myself.” She makes puppy eyes to him. He stretches his own.

“No. It’s cold.”

“It’s not that cold, though…”

“Then go and freeze to death alone.”

With a moan, she does just that. Hange meets the empty and silent yard with a smile, and sits on the top step of the entrance. It’s weird that after all these years, the stars are the only ones who haven’t changed at all. As a kid, she used to see them with the same admiration she does now. That kid is so far away from the person she currently is—lived so differently, feared silly things like the shadows in the night or her parents not returning one day—that they feel like two separate beings. Still, the night remains steady for her. Perhaps the only thing that has stayed.

Following minutes of only having the bright spots over her head—and the chilling breeze—as a company, a warm body settles beside her.

“If I get fucking sick, I’ll harass you in my death.” Levi hides his hands under his armpits, shivering when a gust of wind engulfs their bodies.

Hange eyes him, and suddenly she remembers: that’s right, she’s not the same she was in her childhood. Her choices, good or bad, have brought her here, to this exact second. To a life where she’s no longer alone. She has friends—kind of a family, you could say. It’s easy to forget it on her lowest days, but it’s true, nevertheless.

She smiles and lets her back fall to the ground. “Come here, the sky looks better from this angle.”

Levi peeks at her. “I won’t get dirty again.”

Her fingers close on the sleeve of his jacket and she pulls him to her until his back hits the ground. Levi could have prevented it, if wanted—he’s much stronger than anyone around. He folds his arms over his chest and tilts his head up. The side of his thigh brushes against hers, casting a warm tingling to run over her skin. She can’t recall the last time they were this close, if ever. She likes it.

“Can we go to the warehouse later?”

For some unknown reason, Hange loves going to the warehouse where the Survey Crops save the extras of their provisions—the ones that don’t fit in the one from the barracks. It used to be a greenhouse before the king gave it to them, therefore its ceiling is made of glass panels, and because there’s almost nothing there—as they have limited resources—the ground has started growing grass and flowers.

Hange loves lying down between the green, in the quietness and emptiness of it, and looking up at the sky. She discovered it some time ago, when Erwin sent her to look for extra soap, and she didn’t want to leave afterward. Levi is the only one she’s shown it to.

“It’s dark and late,” he says.

“But—”

“Tomorrow.”

“Hmph.” She sighs. “How would we be if we weren’t in the Survey Corps?” She has an idea, containing her face without joy; an unhappy life worth of an heir. But, Levi’s? His friends would be alive…

“The same,” he states—his tone unsure, though.

“Wouldn’t you be happier?” She feels bad for it, but she’s glad for the past. Many people have died, yes, but they’re here. She wouldn’t change a minute if otherwise, days like this vanished. “Even though you can still walk away and—”

“You are free to leave.”

She feels him stir next to her.

“Free… but am I?” She asks.

“We all are.”

Hange shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Neither I nor anyone is. If I did leave, I would still be trapped by these walls. And even without acknowledging that, with everything I know and have seen, my mind wouldn't leave me alone. It would force me to come back and fulfill my duty.”

“So your own mind is caging you? It’s yours, just tell it to shut up.”

“It’s not a chain that I could cut that easily. My comrades, my wishes, guilt… that wouldn’t let me. Could you do it? Leave freely and never glimpse back?”

A pause, and then, “No.”

“Then we aren’t free to leave. Not even if we wanted.”

A heavy air weights them. Hange closes her eyes. If everything is fruitless… if humanity ends up perishing under titans’ hands, would this fight be worth it? She wants to believe it does.

She turns to her side, and shifts closer to Levi—just to save the heat, she tells herself. Her body gets warmer instantly and finds herself cozy and comfortable. Her gaze comes back to the stars above them, one of the freest beings in the world, the ones who see everything and everyone.

But maybe they’re caged, too, Hange thinks. They have to stick to the same dark canvas in routinely so-much hours, never looking down under the sunlight. Maybe they don’t have another choice, for the people below that have grown accustomed to them—that need them to remain changeless.

“I think that group,”—she signals to the sky, and Levi’s gaze follows her finger— “is supposed to shape an arrow…”

“I only see a big poop,” he says, and closes his eyes. She draws herself closer to him until her chin meets his shoulder and her breath sways his hair. He leans to her ever so slightly, and she smiles at his profile as his soupy smell caresses her nose. A fulfilling tiredness envelopes her, one that makes her feel so light… a melody she heard ages ago fills her mind, and under her breath, she hums it.

Maybe freedom is just those little moments with certain people, when you feel you could fly the highest.

Or maybe not.

***

Erwin lifts one heavy eyebrow and everyone at the table—except for Levi—burst into laughs.

“Honestly, you wouldn’t be yourself without them.” Nanaba sips from her glass, still chuckling.

“It’s your personal brand,” Hange nods.

Hange, Nanaba, and the aforementioned owner of the bushy, blonde eyebrows, are sitting on a single bench at a corner of the Mess Hall. Levi, Mike, and Gelgar share another one at their front; a table overflowing with glasses, cards, and food between both trios.

It’s one of those days where life feels like its essence solely consists in enjoying the weather, and your friends’ humor—a rare occasion among the corps. Sunset has fallen over them, but they don’t plan to retire anytime soon.

To Levi, taking pleasure in occasions like this is unfamiliar, yet welcome. More so after the last expedition—which is said to be the worst one since the very beginning of the Survey Corps. A quarter of them died out there, and the atmosphere has been fragile since then. Because of that, Erwin suggested to Shadis to grant the depressed soldiers a day off—as another expedition is approaching, and this sour air wouldn’t help out of the walls.

Hange and Erwin’ speeches get heated while discussing a strange book that she found in a library in the capital. Levi never regarded any of them as believers in conspiracies, but here they are, claiming that the government disappeared vital pages of history from it.

Whatever. Levi is losing in the cards game; therefore, his mood is grumpier than usual.

It isn’t his fault. He just keeps getting distracted by the silliest of things. Like a dog howl from outside, which made his ear perk up and his eyes exchange a look with Hange. But the howl was thin, thus not Brownie’s—they agreed wordlessly. Still, Gelgar benefited from his drift of attention, changing a card when Mike turned to his deck. Later, a thunderous laugh filled the air and Levi couldn’t but stare at Hange, unable to overlook her flushed cheeks and the joy in her voice. Over, and over again, Gelgar—and sometimes Mike—changed something without his notice.

Levi doesn’t care about winning on these shitty games; on the other hand, it remains frustrating that every time he glances at the table, he sees different cards. His memory must suck.

“Ohh, Marlene is so hot,” Gelgar purrs, surveying the woman as she makes her way to another table. “I should talk to her later…” Levi’s lips press into a white slash. Mike’s entire face and body harden. Fortunately, Nanaba is unaware of this, engrossed in the other conversation. “Isn’t she the most beautiful, Levi?” Gelgar elbows him.

Levi feels his neck stiffen, wondering why the hell did Blondie and he come back together again, recently. Beautiful? It isn’t a word he employs daily—or at all. What is beautiful, even?

He wants to tell Gelgar that Nanaba is beautiful, because she knows how to make a good tea and always listens to Hange. For that matter, Mike is, too: his quiet behavior is relaxing, and he always cleans his table after eating. Erwin could apply, as his attire is always in place, and his dreams of a free humanity are shining. And Hange… Hange is possible the most beautiful. Even if her tea sucks and her cleaning habits could get better, she’s the kindest and the smartest of them. She’d risk her life for anyone, and her enthusiasm never fails to bring a smile. And—never mind. His thoughts could go on and on, but he’s starting to feel strangely warm.

Also, he suspects that his definition of beauty doesn’t align with Gelgar’s. If it did, he’d hold more appreciation for that value, and wouldn’t be asking this—especially not in front of his long-time partner.

“You should loosen a little” Gelgar continues. “I know for a fact that many people wouldn’t mind spending a night with you if you didn’t wear a frown so often.” He lowers his cards with a smirk. “Game over.”

“Not so soon.” Mike shakes his head and smashes his cards onto the table, showing a winner. “You lost.”

Levi, for once, smiles at the Bear, dropping his cards.

“Shadis looks tired,” Nana says when they save the cards and are finishing their drinks. Her stare is on the lonely Commander, who bends over his dinner. “Are things that bad?”

Erwin scratches his temple. “Possibly. After the last expedition, getting enough budget will grow to be a major problem.”

Gelgar tilts his head to a side. “Maybe you should hurry to console him, Hange.”

All the gazes land on Hange, who was drinking some water, and explodes into a cough attack.

When she recovers, she says, “Ah… what? Nana?!”

Blondie switches on her seat. “I may have told him of how, years ago—”

“You had a crush on him, didn’t you?” Gelgar interrupts.

“What?” Mike’s mouth falls open. “You fancied Shadis?”

Levi is pretty sure that Hange’s ears are red.

“It was just a phase!”

“You have a disgusting taste,” Levi says, wrinkling his nose as the Commander walks from the table, leaving his dirty plate behind.

Gelgar laughs and scans them with inquisitive eyes. For some reason, uneasiness climbs up Levi’s spine when those eyes meet his.

“We should go out,” Gelgar suggests. “Has been ages since we’ve had a drinking night, and never with this shorty.”

Levi scowls at the name, but says nothing, as the others suddenly light up, jumping to their feet in agreement. A drinking night sounds awful to him, but oh well, they’re all going, so why not. How bad could it be?

Answer: bad. It’s bad. Really bad.

It’s already dark when they arrive. Their drinking place ends up being a bar not far from the barracks. Levi has never been here before, but the others enter as if it was their home. The thing is, the bar structure is old and rusty. More importantly, it hasn’t been cleaned—not even swept!—since years ago, Levi could swear on it. A fine layer of dust on the windows attests to his conviction, along with the deteriorated state of the tables’ wood, and the musty smell.

Are all the bars like this? No wonder he never came to one before.

“Ages without seeing y’all!” A young, tall man—taller than Erwin and Mike—with dark hair to the shoulders, turns to them from behind the counter. “And who’s this shorty one?”

Instead of answering, Levi glares at him, crossing his arms over his chest. He almost uses his cravat to cover his nose from the imperceptible dust that must be floating among them.

Erwin pats the tall man’s arm. “He’s Levi. We’ve been busy, but we expect to have more free time in the near future, Davin.”

Hange gets out from behind Erwin.

Davin’s face flicks from pleased to ecstatic in a second. “But if it’s Hange Zoe in the flesh!” Davin moves out of the counter and hugs her tightly. She giggles and wraps her arms around his well-built form. Her head barely reaches his chest.

Levi’s stomach churns, and he adopts a sullen look when he catches sight of Devin’s hands—the same hands touching Hange. They’re almost black with dirt, and now spreading all that dirtiness everywhere.

She doesn’t care, though. Of course.

“I missed you!”

“You left me too long!” Davin laments. “I’ve already read all the books you left for me.”

Davin still doesn’t let go of her. What does he want, to impregnate her with his every grime?! Levi straightens and a groan escapes his throat.

“I knew coming here was an amazing idea,” Gelgar whispers to his ear. Levi’s glare pierces him. Nanaba gifts Levi an apologetic smile.

Who is this man and why is he still all over Hange? Levi is certain she’ll go out from this sick by all his dirtiness. He’s about to tear her away when they separate, albeit Davin’s arm remains on her shoulders. Hange’s smile spreads from ear to ear.

“I’ve been doing so many new improvements, Dave! You wouldn’t believe it, but I just…” Hange updates him on her past months’ work, getting lost in her research and her starstruck listener.

“We should leave them and sit,” Erwin says, motioning to the back of the bar.

They find an empty table—which isn’t difficult to do, as who would want to come to a place like this?—and settle down. They order their drinks.

Levi’s focus is glued to the counter, listening to the conversation taking place between Davin and Hange. She’s happy, which is great. But… he realizes that when she talks to him about the very same topics, his replies are never this insightful, nothing like Davin’s. Not even close. His posture slumps—he wants nothing more than to come back to the barracks with his cup of tea, and a clean Hange in front of him, chewing a slice of bread and babbling.

Yet she’s so happy that he’ll have to stay a little more, if only for her sake.

He hates bars.

“You brought him to his own personal hell,” Nana reprimands Gelgar, who doesn’t appear regretful.

Personal hell? Yes. Whoever with a sense of neatness would think the same. Can they blame him?

The drinks arrive, and Hange prevails carried away with Davin. She’s sitting on a table, moving her hands all over the place. Davin stands in front, his body mere inches from her. It’s surprising that she doesn’t hit him with her level of emotion. Levi sips from his drink and grimaces at the sharp flavor.

Erwin tries to include Levi in their talk, but his gaze is hyper-focused on the spot where Davin’s hand just tossed a tuck of hair from her face. It must look stained, now, so he’s trying to make out the blot. Something burns in his stomach—that’s why he never drinks alcohol.

“You’ll dig a hole on them if you continue like that,” Erwin says quietly.

Levi ignores Erwin, as Hange’s hands take Devin’s, and shows him how to shoot, or that’s what it looks like.

It doesn’t matter. Not even a bit, he tells himself. She can always bathe later.

“Who is him?” He finally asks, not bothering to conceal his sourness.

“The owner,” Mike says. “We’ve been coming here since we met, years ago. Used to visit often, but then…” He rubs his beard. “… I don’t remember why, but we haven’t come since months ago.”

“Hange and Mike got into a fight.” Erwin shakes his head at the memory.

Nanaba laughs out loud. “The other customers were so scared; Hange can be terrifying when she wants to. And Davin”—she pauses to weigh Levi— “who crushes hard on Hange, if you didn’t notice, started cleaning the blood on her head and… she couldn’t stop talking of how much she’d love to study his length! She was a little confused with her words at that moment, the hit was a strong one, but Davin’s face… it was priceless.” More laughs.

Erwin clears his throat to avoid chortling.

Gelgar isn’t that discrete. “Has she ever asked you for that, eh, Levi?”

One day Gelgar won’t know what hit him. Levi adjusts his neutral expression. “You’re a piece of garbage.”

Hange arrives at the table, landing next to Levi with the remnants of her glee still in her dreamy gaze.

Levi can’t stop himself from throwing out, “You wanted to study his length?”

“Uh?” Hange looks around, lost.

“Davin’s” Nanaba clarifies.

“Oh… Sure! Look at him! He surpasses Erwin and Mike. I’m curious, how would he be as a Survey—”

Levi arises and strides to the bathroom, not wanting to hear any other word from her mouth tonight. Why did he come in the first place? He would’ve been so much better at his room. On top of that, the burning he feels within keeps scorching him, even when he chooses to disregard it.

Hange is waiting for him when he exits, leaning onto a wall.

“Levi!” Hange jumps a little when she sees him, and he almost forgets the bitterness in his mouth. Almost.

“What do you want, shitty glasses?”

“I want to show you something SO bad. I’ve been meaning to, for a while, but I know you dislike alcohol and dust, and…” She trails off. Her fingers close around his forelimb, and she tugs him to the left.

“What’s to show here?” Nevertheless, he complies. She bounces with zest while they climb some stairs up.

When they reach the end, she screams, “This!” Hange outstretches her arms to him with a grin. Turns and runs to the edge of the rooftop. “This is where I’ve seen them the closest.”

Levi follows her line of sight and lets out his air. It is, indeed, a better view of the stars. Their circular shape is brighter, their light whiter. Maybe because of the height at which they are, but they look larger. At reach, if only a step closer.

“Do you like it?” Her tone is expectant.

Levi ponders. He likes the stars, that’s a given. Yet, as he’s here, beside her, the sweet smell and energy that is just Hange surrounding him, he finds himself liking it much more.

“I do.”

She smiles and he mirrors her expression without awareness, their fingers almost touching due to their proximity. He takes the freshness of the night in, the burning he felt inside fading away.

By the time they go down, lightness has adhered to Levi’s strides.

“Whe—where wereeee youuu?” Nanaba asks, drunk, if the drag of her words is an indicator.

“Enjoying the night view.” Hange takes the same chair of a moment ago, and Levi does as well.

After a while, Nanaba sobers a little. “We were saying that”—hiccup— “it’s so funny how everyone is” —hiccup— “calling Levi ‘Humanity’s strongest’.”

“They are?” Hange cocks her head. “It suits you.”

Levi pulls at his cravat. “Nonsense.”

“Sometimes I forget how of a war machine you are,” Mike says. He starts sniffing.

“What?” Hange leans in.

“It’s blood.”

“Oh no, no again!” They ignore Nanaba’s complaint.

Mike and Hange are already at the doorway. The rest have no other option than to go after them. Outside, five men are beating one.

“We should think about this before acting,” Erwin says in his leader’s tone. However, his muscles are tense.

Hange twists her mouth. “I finished thinking. You guys?”

Mike snaps his fingers. “Finished.”

Nanaba and Gelgar nod.

Levi sighs. “Let’s finish this crap and go.”

“Do you like violence that much?” Hange asks the men, interrupting their assault.

The men come to a halt and circle them. Erwin stands tall, teeth clenched. Nanaba puts her hands on her hips, secure and intimidating. Mike clenches his fists, and Gelgar crosses his arms and drums his fingers on one arm. Levi can only imagine how they must look to those morons.

Soon, the only sound out of the bar is of screams, punches, and cries. Levi knocks a man down with a blow and then kicks another one. The fight lasts no more than five minutes, and they plod through the road back to the barracks afterward.

Hange and Blondie hold each other next to Erwin, who leads them at the front. Gelgar goes in the middle, combing his hair, while Levi and Mike walk side by side at the back. Mike has a fascination with fishing rods and keeps bringing them in.

They’re all freaks, and still, Levi feels part of a big family as never before.

The team part ways at the entrance. Levi heads to check on Brownie—it’s his turn to make sure that the dog is fed; only in case its owner fails for a day, which hasn’t happened yet, but could. At least, that’s what Hange fears.

Shouts make him peek into the stables, where a couple argues quite loudly.

Gelgar’s neck veins are pulsing. “You’re an idiot!”

“And you’re an asshole!” Nanaba wipes tears from her cheeks. “I hate you! I hope you die and never come back!”

“Not before you!”

Levi decides that it’s better to leave them alone. As he sneaks to his room, he remembers the way Nanaba and Gelgar looked at each other—spiteful, full of hate—and the rage present in their yelling. He makes a face and comes to a conclusion; if people despise each other so much when they’re in a relationship, or afterward, how can that be a good thing?

Love is, clearly, bad stuff.

***

Things are escalating so fast and so bad that Hange can’t even her breathing yet.

We’re losing, rolls over her head without a possible stop. The frenetic thought chases her all the way to Headquarters, constricting her chest and consuming her peace of mind. They’ve lost so many lives, and today the amount outnumbered. Not only did they come back with a quarter of their comrades, but what happened little after their return was way worse.

Wall Maria fell. Thousands died. Titans finally made their move, somehow organized. Somehow clever. Somehow way ahead of them—which shouldn’t be a surprise. The corps never have been on the winning side.

And now, their Commander is stepping out, and Erwin is taking his place.

I need to learn better, Hange repeats, swallowing to undo the lump in her throat. What they’re doing isn’t working—it means something with their way is wrong. Her actions, her perspective must change to make a difference. She hates titans, kills them, but they remain stronger as ever. Another angle is necessary, a different approach to get knowledge and ensure humanity’s survival. Going to extremes and putting herself in danger is worth the effort to achieve success if it means saving the world.

Not many days ago, she had already considered shifting her perspective, but the reception was far from good.

“I’m going to study them!” She said before leaving for the last expedition. The—now officially—most disastrous one since humanity was caged.

“Why?”

“They’re captivating!”

Everyone stared at her, the words ‘she finally developed a second head’ leaving their sights. Even Levi eyed her, incredulous.

No matter. She’s going to study titans, and will give herself completely to that task. How can you win against something that you don’t know? She has to find their weaknesses, and use them to prevent something like this to repeat itself.

Another wall can’t fall. Studying her enemies is a necessity, actually. If she doesn’t do it, who will? No one wants to take a risk of that sort, no one has yet tried. She’ll unfold their secrets, one by one; discover their nature, collect data, and learn how to end this bloodshed.

It’s possible that her mind is overcharging, skirting obsession with this idea. But that’s better than the numbness that takes over her as the cries of the survivors resound in her ears, unwavering. The memory of tens of bloodied bodies wherever her gaze landed. The lonely head of a honeyed-haired girl who Hange talked with only yesterday when she visited the town to buy supplies. The metallic scent of blood. Houses smashed to pieces, small and looking like toys from her view on the wall; children open-eyed and lifeless, frozen in horror.

Her worst nightmare was looking at her, mocking her incapacity to change a thing. The worst is that it wasn’t a nightmare, as she couldn’t wake up. It was reality.

Those images are never leaving. Probably never will.

Hange grasps the shirt upon her chest and bends, supporting her weight onto a wall. It’s been hours since they came back from helping the Wall Maria’s displaced. Hours since she’s been here, at this same spot on the stables, unable to stand tall and join the rest of her comrades.

Blue has faded to dark; the noise has subdued, most of the Survey Corps too tired to spend another sleepless night.

She’s at an edge. She feels herself almost stumbling down, reaching collapse. Holding herself from the fall with two little, weak fingers. Hange drags her feet to his room, and she knocks on the door slowly once. Twice. Then fast at three, four times, anxiety raiding her senses. She wants to move and jump and burn it; to lay down and sleep and never wake up.

Levi opens the door, somber.

The sight of him ends up shoving her into the abyss.

Tears spill down her cheeks, a strident sound freeing itself from her very core. She didn’t let herself fall in front of the others, but she has never been able to lie to him. Levi pulls her inside with an arm between her shoulder blades, and for once she’s glad that those who survived of his roommates didn’t stay the night. There are too many empty beds out there for them to take, anyway.

Hange moves to his bed, mind not quite present. She doesn’t contemplate how she’s dirty and sweaty, blood permeating her clothes. It’s the first time she feels like this since her first expedition, and it’s not pretty. She lies down and covers herself with a blanket as tightly as possible, much like that fateful night when she cried herself to sleep, guilt for being the only one left ripping her soul.

“Give me these, four-eyes,” Levi says, reaching out to take her glasses away from her. Sets them onto the table. The gesture wells more tears to her eyes, blurring her already clouded vision. She makes out shapes, colors exploding, the light over Levi like a halo.

At close, she detects a weight burdening him; he’s also tired. She opens her arms to him, and he hesitates. Although he lies down next to her, he avoids her open embrace, but his skin still touches her side. He’s so cold.

They turn to face each other, the candlelight dimming. Levi tosses away the hair stuck onto the damp skin of her cheeks. Hange fixates in his soupy smell, his sharp features, gray iris sinking into hazel. She’s insanely grateful for his existence, this beautiful soul and kindred spirit. The most important being that is still here, keeping her together when he doesn’t have to.

Her eyelids are heavy. She blinks slowly, her mind slowing down and crumpling her defenses, until she’s here without any mind-wall. Her brain doesn’t even register it; by the moment she understands, it has already happened, and the pull of tiredness too powerful to oversee.

Hange leans forward, caressing her mouth with his smooth one. He tastes like tea. Like Levi. She barely registers his sudden rigidness.

Tingles remain on her lips when she recedes and drops her head on the pillow to a night of dreamless sleep, cuddling to his side.

Claiming him closer to her heart.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi x hange #aot #levi ackerman #Hange zoe #aot fanfiction #snk #time to time #me #mine #myfics #multichapter #fluff #minor angst

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clairenatural · 4 years

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look at you, strawberry blond

destiel, 1.8k. pining, fluff, growing up together, etc! minor character/parental death, vague mention of John’s A+ Parenting. based on the mitski song (this is a repost because the first one got deleted)

I love everybody because I love you

Castiel first learns what love is when he’s eight years old and Gabriel, sixteen, is grumbling about driving an hour out of his way to find his girlfriend the rare chocolates she likes for Valentine’s day.

“Why?” he asks his older brother, and Gabriel sighs, melodramatic as always.

“That’s love, little bro. Remembering the little things and then putting in the time to make it happen.”

Cas thinks about when he told Dean his parents don’t let him eat candy. He thinks about how Dean has given him half his Kit Kat bar every day for the last year.

He thinks about the time he scraped his knee falling off the jungle gym and Dean spent the rest of recess picking dandelions to make him feel better. Yellow is his favorite color.

“Oh.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Cassie. Love is about sacrifice, and commitment--” he goes on, but by the time Michael cuts him off, yelling from his office that you’ve only been dating for two months, Gabriel, stop preaching to Castiel, Cas has already sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom.

A broken piggy bank, $1.50 in pocket change, and several pleas to Gabriel later, and Castiel tucks a king-sized Kit Kat into Dean’s valentine box.

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

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

It’s eight years later, one summer in high school, when Castiel realizes that there’s a difference between loving and being in love, and that he is, in fact, in love with his best friend.

He realizes this as he watches Dean walk away, sandals discarded and unnecessary in the soft grass, back to the picnic tables to get them both more fruit punch. It’s the annual junior class picnic, the official welcome to being upperclassmen, and the August sun casts a warm glow over Dean’s freckles, and Castiel knows.

Two seconds later, he watches Dean nearly get hit by an errant frisbee and completely forget his punch mission in lieu of playfully tackling its thrower, Benny Lafitte. He watches Lisa Braden, giggly and glowing and perfect as always, yelp as she’s almost caught in the crossfire, and Dean winks at her as he releases Benny.

He swallows thickly and turns his attention back to the patch of grass they’d been laying in, flattened where Dean had been just a few moments before. He wishes he hadn’t come to this particular realization.

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached

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

I love everybody because I love you I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

Castiel goes to college in Chicago and pretends like the two-hour drive between them doesn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t, until Dean’s father gets a job back in Kansas halfway through his freshman year. Dean goes with him even though he’s an adult because the alternative is letting Sam deal with John alone, so Castiel spends most of that summer in Lawrence, dodging both his friends in the big city and his family back in Pontiac. He tells them all that he’s studying Kansas’ role in the Civil War, assisting in research back at the University, but he and Dean spend two months going on road trips with Sam.

His sophomore year John dies and Castiel flies back for the weekend, explaining his sudden departure as a family emergency and getting an extension on two papers. Dean holds his hand at the funeral but won’t look him in the eyes for two hours after, even as he refuses to leave Castiel’s side.

The boys move in with Bobby but that summer Dean shows up in Chicago, explanations lined up about not worrying about Sam anymore and wanting to see what about the city made Cas keep coming back. Castiel gets an internship and pretends like that was the plan all along. He quietly cancels his plane tickets to South Dakota.

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape I picture it, soft, and I ache

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

Reach out the car window, trying to hold the wind You tell me you love her; I give you a grin

Dean stays in Chicago. He moves into Castiel’s empty room when his original roommate moves out, he finds work at an auto shop, and he starts taking mechanic classes at a community college. Castiel isn’t sure why—he doesn’t want to ask. Afraid to look the gift horse in the mouth and risk having his happiness bitten off.

Then Dean starts talking about a girl. Then Castiel meets the girl, Cassie Robinson, and it all makes sense.

He pretends it doesn’t sting every time Dean brings her up, that the way his face lights up doesn’t burn, that he doesn’t feel physically ill the first time he meets her.

By the time Dean tells him he’s in love, gushing about Cassie in a way eerily reminiscent of Gabriel twelve years earlier, it’s turned into a dull ache that Castiel has mostly contained in the back of his chest. They’re on their way to Cassie’s apartment, the first stop on their way to a cabin spring break of their junior year, and the ache is suddenly threatening to break through his ribcage.

But the sun is warm on his cheek, and the radio is playing a soft summer soundtrack, so Castiel allows Dean’s happiness to wash over him long enough to forget who—or, more importantly, who isn’t—causing it. He grins at his best friend before turning his gaze back out the passenger window of the Impala.

Oh all I ever wanted was a life in your shape So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines, Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

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

Look at you, strawberry blond

Dean and Cassie break up, and Dean drinks for a month, but Castiel getting into Stanford for grad school distracts him just long enough to go back to normal (a normal that does not involve thinking about how Dean nearly kissed him when they were both drunk the night he got his acceptance).

This new normal involves staring graduation in the face, and California beyond that, and moving out of his Chicago apartment somewhere in this middle, which also involves coming to terms with moving away from Dean.

Until Sam gets his own acceptance to Stanford a few months later. Then Dean starts sending him links to two-bedroom apartments, and using “we” when talking about the move, and looks just as confused as Castiel when he asks about it.

“Well, yeah. I mean, with you gone, and now Sam—You thought you were going by yourself?”

And even though Castiel vaguely thinks this is a bad idea, and living with his best friend who he’s been in love with for his entire memory had been hard enough for the two years they’d been doing it, he can’t say no. Because every time he gets up the nerve to say something Dean calls him over and shoves his laptop into Castiel’s face, talking about hiking trails and flower fields and front lawns and dogs, and that quells any doubt he had.

They move to Palo Alto, into a townhouse with a lawn and a communal garden. Dean adopts a golden retriever.

Fields rolling on, I love it when you call my name

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

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm? Watching your arm

Two months into Castiel’s first year of graduate school they have a picnic, taking advantage of the lingering warmth of the California fall. Sam is off in the field playing with Zeppelin, obviously having used the ‘come meet my brother’s dog’ excuse to invite the pretty blonde woman (Jess?) chasing the golden with him. Dean is rambling about Star Trek and Castiel is paying half attention, the majority of his focus on the reading in front of him because professors don’t consider picnics an extension-worthy excuse.

He’s just started to get invested when he hears a yelp and looks up to see Dean Winchester, his best friend, most trusted confidant and the possible love of his life, swatting a bumblebee. Cas gasps, reading forgotten, and lunges across the picnic blanket to grab Dean’s wrist. “Dean.” He chastises, and Dean gives him a look.

“It’s a bee, Cas.”

“It’s a bumblebee, which are essential—”

“To our ecosystem, yeah, but it’s pretty essential to me that it doesn’t sting me.”

“It won’t sting you if you don’t swat at it.”

“You didn’t see the look on it, man. It meant business.”

“Bees are attracted to sugar. You probably just smell good.”

Dean grins. “You calling me sweet, Cas?”

And, well, no. He isn’t. He’s talking about the empty pie tin next to Dean. But the words make him realize just how close they are, how far he’d moved into Dean’s space in his efforts to stop his hand, how the force of the movement had pushed Dean almost back onto his elbows.

He opens his mouth to respond the way he usually does to Dean’s cavalier flirting, but the words don’t leave his mouth—which is, somehow, he swears, closer to Dean’s than it was a second ago. Just as Castiel is preparing to push back, clear his throat, and add this moment onto a growing list of almost-but-not-quite moments stretching back years, Dean sucks in a breath and closes the gap.

Castiel reacts before his brain can fully comprehend what’s going on, bypassing any shock entirely and kissing Dean back immediately. He lets go of his wrist, instead bringing his hand to the side of Dean’s face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Dean pushes himself back up and wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, pulling him essentially into his lap, and then they’re kissing, and Dean smells like summer and tastes like apple pie, and Castiel suddenly understands more than ever why bees are always buzzing around him.

It feels like a lifetime until it’s over, until they’re just staring at each other and out of breath, both scared to say anything and break the magic they’d accidentally created. The silence is only broken by a shout from across the grass, followed shortly by a tennis ball that nearly misses them, followed by 65 pounds of golden retriever that does not miss them and nearly topples Castiel in his pursuit of the ball. And then Sam comes running after the dog, still shouting—apologies, this time—and then there’s Jess, laughing hysterically, and then Castiel has to scramble out of the way because Zeppelin has made a U-turn, interpreting the whole commotion as a game of keep-away.

Dean meets his eye above the chaos and grins, and the sunlight hits his dirty blonde hair, and it’s so breathtaking Castiel almost forgets to smile back.

I love it when you look my way.

#destiel fluff #deancas fluff #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel #fic #spn #i told myself i wasn't gonna repost this but this verse lives rent free in my head so like. here u go sorry #also i like it and want it on my blog!!!#my words #(tumblr actually put this in the tags challenge)#over 1k words

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agnes-come-back-challenge · 3 years

Text

Who wants a full comparison of episodes 1, 25, and 111 of Welcome to Night Vale? Because I love comparing these episodes and also I have no impulse control. Let’s go

(Spoilers up to episode 111, obviously. Also, I’ll bold every other segment so that it’s easier to tell which ones I’m comparing)

((This is gonna be an incredibly long post. I’m very sorry))

A friendly desert community, where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale. (1)

A friendly desert community, where the sun is still hot, the moon still beautiful, and mysterious lights still pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale. (25)

A friendly desert community, where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead, while we lay open eyed, watching it all. Welcome to Night Vale. (111)

Hello listeners. To start things off, I’ve been asked to read this brief notice. The City Council announces the opening of a new Dog Park at the corner of Earl and Summerset, near the Ralphs. They would like to remind everyone that dogs are not allowed in the Dog Park. People are not allowed in the Dog Park. It is possible you will see hooded figures in the Dog Park. do not approach them. Do not approach the Dog Park. The fence is electrified and highly dangerous. Try not to look at the Dog Park and especially do not look for any period of time at the hooded figures. The Dog Park will not harm you. (1)

One single year since two major events in our town’s history. First, the opening of our lovely, state-of-the-art Dog Park, which is forbidden, and which I will not mention again. (25)

The City Council reiterated for the 1,874th consecutive day that the Dog Park is off limits for both dogs and humans. The fence is electrified and highly dangerous etc. Hooded figures and all that. Since its construction we have shied from and feared the Dog Park. The Dog Park is neither a park nor for dogs, and so what does it even mean to call it a dog park? Why do we use language that means one thing to describe something that is entirely else? I don’t know what the word is for that place the City Council calls the dog park, but I do know it’s time to start searching for that word, and once found, to use it boldly. (111)

And now the news. Old Woman Josie, out near the car lot, says the Angels revealed themselves to her. Said they were ten feet tall, radiant, one of them was black. Said they helped her with various household chores. One of them changed a light bulb for her, the porch light. She’s offering to sell the old light bulb, which has been touched by an angel (it was the black angel, if that sweetens the pot for anyone). If you’re interested, contact Old Woman Josie. She’s out near the car lot. (1)

[none] (25)

The angels, who I can now say are angels, and will say are angels, because they are angels, held a memorial for Old Woman Josie in her house. Everyone in town came, overcome with a feeling that finally they could look at these beings and recognize them for what they were. Even the City Council attended the memorial, but refused to make eye contact with anyone. Of course, this positive, concrete identification only led to more mysteries, for if these are angels, then where did they come from? And what does that mean for us? Even now we find that we cannot voice these questions. Not because we are not allowed. But because we cannot find the words to ask. Instead we ate cake and drank coffee in the living room of Old Woman Josie, which was once just that, a place she lived. Now it is only a room. One by one, we laid our hand on the Angels’ hands, and in that moment of contact each of us, in turn, found ourselves weeping. As the party wound down, we all heard a soft pop outside. It was the lightbulb on Old Woman Josie’s porch, burning out. (111)

A new man came in to town today. Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut? Why his perfect and beautiful coat? He says he is a scientist. Well, we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those beakers and humming electrical instruments in that lab he’s renting, the one next to Big Rico’s Pizza. No one does a slice, like Big Rico. No one. (1)

Second, and more important, it is one year since the arrival in Night Vale of our most beloved and singular citizen. (25)

A man who I know very well came into my house today, which is also his house. He laid his head, with its perfect and beautiful hair, upon my shoulder, and crossed his arms over his perfect and beautiful lab coat. I embraced him. We are creatures of touch, humans, and we retrieve so much meaning and happiness from contact. “I have become too complacent,” he said. “When I came here, I understood this town as scientifically fascinating. And then, gradually, it became my day to day life. I could no longer see the strangeness, but only my home.” “We are all guilty of that,” I said. “But I am a scientist,” he said.“Well,” I said. “We have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives.” (111)

Just a reminder to all the parents out there. Let’s talk about safety when taking your children out to play in the scrub lands and the sand wastes. You need to give them plenty of water, make sure there’s a shade tree in the area, and keep an eye on the helicopter colors. Are the unmarked helicopters circling the area black? Probably World Government, not a good area for play that day. Are they blue? That’s the Sheriff’s Secret Police, they’ll keep a good eye on your kids, and hardly ever take one. Are they painted with complex murals depicting birds of prey diving? No one knows what those helicopters are, or what they want. Do not play in the area. Return to your home and lock the doors until a Sheriff’s Secret Policeman leaves a carnation on your porch to indicate that the danger has passed. Cover your ears to blot out the screams. Also, remember: Gatorade is basically soda, so give your kids plain old water and maybe some orange slices when they play. (1)

Parents: Let’s talk about safety when taking your children to play out in the scrub lands and the sand wastes. All children in Night Vale are missing this week, so there’s no current safety issues. Hope we find them! (25)

Just a reminder to all the parents out there. Let’s talk about safety when taking your children out to play in the scrub lands and the sand wastes. You need to give them plenty of water, make sure there’s a shade tree in the area, and keep an eye on the helicopter colors. I asked my best friend and brother, Steve, to talk me through which helicopters belong to which organizations. Obviously the black helicopters belong to the World Government, although I had not realized, until Steve laid it out for me, how closely they are also associated with the Lizard People. The blue ones are Sheriff’s Secret Police, the pink ones are the new Double Secret Police, and the ones painted with complex murals depicting birds of prey diving? Well not even Steve knows what those helicopters are, nor what they want. On Steve’s chart, those are just labeled with the word RUN and then a few hundred exclamation points. (111)

A commercial airliner flying through local airspace disappeared today, only to reappear in the Night Vale Elementary gymnasium during basketball practice, disrupting practice quite badly. The jet roared through the small gym for only a fraction of a second, and before it could strike any players or structure, it vanished again, this time apparently for good. There is no word yet on if or how this will affect the Night Vale Mountain Lion’s game schedule, and also if this could perhaps be the work of their bitter rivals, the Desert Bluffs Cacti. Desert Bluffs is always trying to show us up through fancier uniforms, better pre-game snacks, and quite possibly by transporting a commercial jet into our gymnasium, delaying practice for several minutes at least. For shame, Desert Bluffs. For shame. (1)

In other news, a commercial airliner appeared today inside the home of surprised Night Vale citizen Becky Canterbury, who said she was about to get in the shower when it roared down her hallway and then disappeared, as suddenly as it had arrived. There is no conclusive evidence that this is the same airliner last seen in the Night Vale Elementary gym one year ago, but we have jumped to that conclusion and will defend it against all naysayers, violently and without mercy. Our truths may or may not be true, but they are ours, and we stand by them, even as the experts and skeptics hold aloft clipboards and intone to us about snow and mountains. Becky added that she would like to take that shower now, and that she has no idea how we managed to arrive for an interview mere seconds after the incident occurred. “My doors are locked.” she said. “My windows too. I’ve had my eyes shut for years. How did you get in here?” (25)

A commercial airliner flying through local airspace disappeared today, only to reappear at the fifth hole of the Sagebrook Pines Private Golf Club and Bulk Supplier. This disrupted all golf activities badly, as well as scaring a family of four who were perusing bulk paper towels offered at a discount price in a nearby sandtrap. I feel, for the first time, that I can articulate that this airliner had flown into some other universe, those divisions being particularly thin here in our quaint little community. This also is the cause of things like dead relatives occasionally joining us for breakfast, or the shimmering skyscrapers and crowded cities that appear for flashing moments in the sky. Of course, it also could be the handywork of the East Night Vale Cacti, the basketball team at the new East Night Vale Elementary School. Those scamps are always pulling pranks. Could they transport a large plane through multiple universes? Who am I to say? But probably yes. For shame, East Night Vale. For shame. (111)

The local chapter of the NRA is selling bumper stickers as part of their fundraising week. They sent the station one to get some publicity, and we’re here to serve the community, so I’m happy to let you all know about it. The stickers are made from good, sturdy vinyl, and they read: “Guns don't kill people. It's impossible to be killed by a gun. We are all invincible to bullets and it's a miracle.” Stand outside of your front door and shout “NRA” to order one. (1)

The local chapter of the NRA has begun market testing some possible new slogans. These include: “Guns don't kill people. Blood loss and organ damage does.” “Guns don't kill people. People kill guns.” “A list of things that kill people: 1. Conceivably anything. 2. Not guns.” “Guns don't kill people. We are all immortal souls living temporarily in shelters of earth and meat.” and “If you say guns kill people one more time I will shoot you with a gun and you will, coincidentally, die.” To vote on the new slogan, simply fire a gun at the object or person that best represents your choice. (25)

The local chapter of the NRA is selling bumper stickers as part of their fundraising week. The stickers are made from good, sturdy vinyl and they read “We genuinely do not value human life.” Cute! (111)

Carlos and his team of scientists warn that one of the houses in the new development of Desert Creek, out back of the elementary school, doesn’t actually exist. “It seems like it exists,” explained Carlos and his perfect hair. “Like it’s just right there when you look at it, and it’s between two other identical houses so it would make more sense for it to be there than not” But, he says, they have done experiments and the house is definitely not there. At news time, the scientists are standing in a group on the sidewalk in front of the nonexistent house, daring each other to go knock on the door. (1)

Scientists, and science in general, would like to remind you that some things exist and some things do not. Usually, you can apply the simple test of seeing if it is there. If it is there, it exists. If not, it probably doesn’t, but it might just be currently existing somewhere else. Existence is tricky, the scientists say. Research shows this. For instance, there is that house in the housing development of Desert Creek out back of the elementary school, the house that doesn’t exist. It seems like it exists. Like it’s just right there when you look at it, and it’s between two other identical houses so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. But it does not exist. They have proved this with science. The scientists still haven’t gotten up the nerve to ring the doorbell and find out what happens. Do you want to do it? They’ll pay you five dollars if you do. Just ring it once ok. We’ll be watching from back here. You’ll probably be fine. (25)

Carlos and his scientists, like Luisa and Nilanjana, are renewing their investigation into the house in the development of Desert Creek, out back of the elementary school. The house that doesn’t actually exist. “It seems like it exists,” muttered Carlos. “Like it’s just right there when you look at it, and it’s between two other identical houses so it would make more sense for it to be there than not.” But he says, it is actually a doorway to another world. A world he himself was once stuck in for a year. There seem to be secrets about that year he is keeping to himself. Maybe someday we will learn what they are. (111)

Lights, seen in the sky above the Arby’s. Not the glowing sign of Arby’s. Something higher and beyond that. We know the difference. We’ve caught on to their game. We understand the lights above Arby’s game. Invaders from another world. Ladies and gentlemen the future is here. And it’s about a hundred feet above the Arby’s. (1)

But here, Carlos and I sat on the trunk of that car, his car, looking together at the lights up in the sky above the Arby’s. They were beautiful in the hushed twilight, shimmering in a night sky already coming alive with bits of the universe. [...] We understand the lights. We understand the lights above the Arby’s. We understand so much. But the sky behind those lights, mostly void, partially stars, that sky reminds us: we don’t understand even more. (25)

Lights, seen in the sky above the Arby’s. Not the glowing sign of Arby’s. Something higher and beyond that. One night, years ago, two people, scared and vulnerable and loving and ready, came together for a quiet moment under that sky. And I pretended at the time to understand the lights. But a big part of recognizing the world for what it is, is recognizing when you have no idea. Invaders from another world? Harbingers of future terror? A fragment of another universe, fading into our own above reasonably priced lunch meat? Maybe any. Maybe all. Maybe none. But here is what I do know. The lights are, among other things, a part of my memory, and a part of my marriage, and a part of my love. They are a piece of my past, and I don’t need to understand them to understand that. Ladies and gentlemen the past is here. And it’s about a hundred feet above the Arby’s. (111)

The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered heavens, and the hierarchy of angels. The reminder is that you should not know anything about this. The structure of heaven and the angelic organizational chart are privileged information, known only to City Council members on a need to know basis. Please to do not speak to or acknowledge any angels that you may come across while shopping at the Ralphs or at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. They only tell lies, and do not exist. Report all angels sightings to the City Council for treatment. (1)

The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered heavens, and the hierarchy of angels. The reminder is that you still should not know anything about this. The structure of heaven and the angelic organizational chart are still privileged information. Also, angels aren’t real. “I really get tired of having to say this,” a City Council representative said to a group of disgruntled angels. “Angels aren’t real. They just aren’t.” The angels became unruly and were dispersed by a thunderclap from heaven. (25)

The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered heavens and the hierarchy of angels. The reminder is the Council is grumpy that all of this is not forbidden knowledge, but due to the new laws, they are required to inform you that the angels have made all of that information available. Stop by the house where the angels live if you want to pick up a free packet outlining exactly how all of that is organized. While the packet itself is free, it is likely the angels will ask to borrow five dollars. They tend to do that. (111)

Speaking of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, its owner, Teddy Williams, reports that he has found the entrance to a vast, underground city in the pin retrieval area of lane 5. He said he has not yet ventured into it, merely peered down at its strange spires and broad avenues. He also reports voices of a distant crowd in the depths of that subterranean metropolis. Apparently the entrance was discovered when a bowling ball accidentally rolled into it, clattering down to the city below with sounds that echoed for miles across the impossibly huge cavern. So, you know, whatever population that city has, they know about us now and we might be hearing from them very soon. (1)

Word is in about a disturbance at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. There has been the sound of chanting and machinery from under the pin retrieval area of lane five, and Teddy Williams has changed all the bowlers’ names on the electronic scorecards to “THEY ARE HERE”. This is causing some confusion and has completely ruined Jeremy Godfrey's 50th birthday party, which had rented out a few lanes for the afternoon. Jeremy was last seen drinking a light beer out of a plastic cup, shaking his head sadly as he swished the liquid around and looking out the window at the sky, mostly void, partially stars. Teddy Williams was last seen howling, commanding his militia to surround the pin retrieval area and prepare for an attack. (25)

Over at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, Teddy Williams, its owner, reported the startling news that there is nothing under the pin retrieval area of lane 5. As you may remember, there has been a tiny city of warlike people under the bowling alley for several years now, which has caused some trouble, although not a lot of trouble, because they were very tiny people. But now there is just a hole in the earth under the pin retrieval area, an empty space containing only my own memories of a night that someone I loved almost died before I had a chance to truly love him. So good riddance to whatever that town was. (111)

Carlos, perfect and beautiful, came into our studios during the break earlier but declined to stay for an interview. He had some sort of blinking box in his hand covered with wires and tubes. Said he was testing the place for materials. I don’t know what materials he meant, but that box sure whistled and beeped a lot. When he put it close to the microphone, it sounded like, well, like a bunch of baby birds had just woken up. Really went crazy. Carlos looked nervous. I’ve never seen that kind of look on someone with that strong of a jaw. He left in a hurry. Told us to evacuate the building, but then, who would be here to talk sweetly to all of you out there. (1)

I arrived at the parking lot to find Carlos, perched on the trunk of his car in flannel and jeans, his perfect hair mussed, his perfect teeth hidden. “What is it?” I said. “What danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?” He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “After everything that happened...I just wanted to see you.” My heart leapt. My heart soared. My heart, metaphorically, performed a number of aerial activities, and, literally, it began beat hard. (25)

Carlos, perfect and beautiful, came into our studios during the break earlier, and we ate lunch together out of Tupperwares. He had some sort of blinking box in his hand covered with wires and tubes. When he put it close to the microphone, it sounded like, well, like a bunch of baby birds had just woken up. Really went crazy. He asked if I remembered it. He had brought it by on the first day we had met. He had told me that it tested for materials, but he wasn’t actually sure what materials it tested for. He had just wanted an excuse to come by and talk to me. “Anyway,” he said, “I thought it was a nice memento. Back when we were fumbling awkwardly toward this life we share.” “But,” he added, “it’s a real instrument that is detecting some actual materials of some kind, so there is a good chance that everything about this studio is deeply dangerous. Please be careful.” (111)

Settling in to be another clear and pretty evening here in Night Vale. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with, or at least good memories of when you did. Good night, listeners. Good night. (1)

We understand the lights. We understand the lights above the Arby’s. We understand so much. But the sky behind those lights, mostly void, partially stars, that sky reminds us: we don’t understand even more. Good night, Night Vale. Good night. (25)

Settling in to be another clear and pretty evening here in Night Vale, this weird, weird town. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. I know I do. Good night, listeners. Good night. (111)

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maknaesdancersrappers · 4 years

Text

Devoted 2.

part 10

Overall warning/s: kinkier smut (eg. voyeurism, exhibitionism, etc.) character death, dark themes

Chapter warning/s: vulgar language, violence

Just how devoted is Jaehyun to you?

prev: part 9

wc: 6.3k

You, your mom, Jaehyun’s mom, Yebin, and Minkyung had arrived at the resort a little past noon and were immediately served lunch as the resort staff brought your bags to the room. After eating and resting for a bit, Jaehyun’s mom led everyone to where the wedding venue could be and visualized it for them.

The pathway to the recreational garden had butterfly bushes on each side that lead to a spacious circular area that could fit just enough for your target wedding entourage. There was a gorgeous fountain offset from the center of the area that had beautiful, healthy, large kois swimming about in the basin and a metal fence that had Chinese honeysuckles creeping through the bars that separated the area from the beach.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Jaehyun’s mom turned to you, eyes sparking and hopeful. A resort staff brings over a tray of champagne for everyone and leaves after everyone has their own glass.

“It’s beautiful, definitely.” You looked up at the looming cherry blossom trees over the fountain, imagining what it would look like when spring comes with the petals filling each basin and flowing down with the water. “But I feel like there’s something missing.”

Minkyung took pictures for you on your phone to send to Jaehyun and for his mom to use as reference for planning. “What’s the color scheme again?”

“Pink and gray.” You answer, although a bit unsure if you wanted to push through with it. “Unless it’s too pink? With the cherry blossoms and all?”

“It depends on the shade of pink you want.” Jaehyun’s mom interjects, “I suggest something a bit deeper… like watermelon.”

“Wouldn’t that be red already?” Yebin curiously speaks up, already finished with her drink, hanging it haphazardly by the flute’s foot between her fingers.

“No, not literally watermelon red.” You explain, “It’s a darker shade of pink. Ah, I wish I had my paint swatches.”

She waves her other hand, “No, no, it’s okay. Just don’t make me wear anything short as a bridesmaid.”

“Isn’t the trend to use infinity dresses for bridesmaid gowns? That was my plan.” You walked over to her and linked your arm with hers. The sea breeze was cool despite the afternoon sun; it was a perfect day to lounge by the pool or wade in the shallow waters of the beach. You leaned your head on Yebin’s shoulder and sighed, “I don’t think I want to get married here. It’s a nice venue, maybe for a reception, but not the ceremony.”

“Then let’s go to my aunt’s place! I haven’t even been there, but knowing her, it’ll be gorgeous.” Yebin leans back on you, “She’s a landscaper.”

The private property was completely walled off with 2-story cement walls with vines creeping up from the ground. From the metal gates up to the parking space in front of the house were tall pine trees and the road leading up to the majestic water fountain surrounded by rose bushes was gray gravel. There was a woman that stood just where the gravel stopped and was replaced by ceramic tiles; she had salt and pepper pixie cut hair and wore high waist trousers with a simple tank top. Something about her screamed ‘boss bitch’ and you’re not doubting she’s related to Yebin.

“Eunyong!” Jaehyun’s mom greets once the car comes to a stop, throwing her hands up as the woman approaches her. They kiss their cheeks and hug each other, “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, honey, you know this is nothing. Who is she? Who’s the lucky girl marrying your son?”

Jaehyun’s mom holds her hand out to you and you bashfully greet her, “Hello. I’m [Y/N].”

“To be marrying Jung Jaehyun and having his mom plan the wedding?” She takes your hands and smiles fondly at you, “You’re a lucky girl. You must be so happy.”

“I still can’t believe it myself.” You admit, “Thank you, again, for lending your property.”

“Anything for the Jungs. Oh, Yebin! What a small world, you’re friends with [Y/N]?”

Yebin gives her aunt a kiss on the cheek, “We were roommates all our college life with Minkyung.” She gestures to her, who bows her head in greeting.

“My! I think I’ve seen you in a fashion show in Europe, my dear.”

Minkyung blushes, “Well, I am a model.”

After you introduce your mom and a few more pleasantries, Eunyeong gives you a tour of her property. She first led everyone to the 3-story mansion and explained that it had 15 ensuite bedrooms, 4 extra bedrooms, and the first floor was mostly an open living area with a luxurious kitchen and pantry to the right and an olympic sized pool, with half under the building and the other half exposed under the sun. She then walked through the marbled floors, guiding everyone to the garden. Like the resort, there were hedges that separated the grass from the sandy beach. Tall trees, among them were cherry blossoms, were lined along the walls and varieties of bushes and shrubs grew beneath them.

“This area is a blank canvas for you, [Y/N].” Eunyeong puts a hand on your shoulder, gesturing to the wide space of grass in front of them. “Tell me what the color scheme is and I’ll have the perfect flowers ordered so they’ll be ready by the wedding.”

“Pink and gray, but I’m still on the fence about it.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’ll take care of it. I have a few ideas already.” Jaehyun’s mom assures you, opening the iPad she had and taking a picture of the landscape. “And if you’re still unsure, then it’s fine. We have months to go.”

A ringtone erupts from behind you and Minkyung exclaims, “Oh, [Y/N]! Jaehyun is calling!”

You had almost forgotten she had your phone, thanking her as she hands you the phone and you take a few steps away from them to answer the call. “Babe?”

“Hi, baby. Just thought I’d check up on you.”

“I’m alright. I was going to send you pictures so you can help me decide but,” You paused; staring at the open garden. Eunyong was right, it was like a blank canvas. You weren’t able to visualize it awhile ago, but now that you’re hearing Jaehyun’s voice, your mind just paints the picture in your head and it almost makes you tear up, “I think this is where I want to marry you.”

“Is it that beautiful?” There was that specific teasing tone in his voice that you would have rolled your eyes at, but instead you let yourself chuckle, eyes still fixated forward; taking notice of the waves past the green hedges.

“It’s perfect.”

After meeting with Eunyong and having a meal there, they return back to the resort where the mothers spent most of their day at the spa, while the quote-unquote younger generation lounged by the pool to get a tan. Yebin and Minkyung tried to plan a bachelorette party, but you turned them down, not wanting one at all. They all met up again for dinner, enjoying the 5-course meal by the window that opened up to the beach. Minkyung and Yebin fill the silence with stories from their work; Minkyung shares some runway mishaps and minor wardrobe malfunctions she’s had and Yebin tells them about the business ventures she’s been tackling. When it came to you, you expressed your concerns about starting your own company, adding the fact it stemmed from Jaehyun’s wishes for you to stay at home instead. You couldn’t help but catch the disappointed and worried look on his mother’s face before she covered it up by drinking her glass of wine.

When they all retreat into their suite, Jaehyun’s mom opted to head out to the balcony and sit out there. You hadn’t paid much attention to it, going to your room to get ready for bed, but when you’ve done your nightly routine and talked a bit with Jaehyun on the phone, you stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You slipped out of your room, thinking Jaehyun’s mom must have gone to bed, until you were proven wrong as you see her still seated outside holding herself from the cold, night air. Grabbing a spare blanket from the cabinets, you walked over to her and put it over her shoulders.

“Mrs. Jung, you’ll get sick.” You quietly said, taking a seat on the adjacent chair.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re marrying my son. You can call me mom or mother now.” She softly chuckles, “And I hadn’t realized that I’ve been out here for too long. I just remembered something, that’s all.”

“If you’d like, you could talk about it to me.” You offered, folding your hands over your lap, “I’ve learned the hard way that it’s not best to go to sleep with a heavy heart.”

“It’s nothing, dear, you don’t have to worry.” She looks over to the dark abyss of the night sea, unable to see the waves crashing into the shore despite hearing them clear as day. Every now and then an owl hoots somewhere in the trees. She looks back at you with a smile, eyes tired from the day’s activities, “How about you, dear? It seems like you can’t sleep either.”

You wanted to tell her everything; from what Jaehyun had done in college to the current issue at hand. This woman is going to be your in-law, yet she’d been acting like your second mother since you’ve met her. A part of you always feared she’d be wicked and mean towards you, but all those thoughts were thrown out the window once you got to know her more.

“I…” You started off, and her perfect brow just lifted up ever so slightly, “I know about Jaehyun’s disorder; the BPD.”

In an instant, there was shock in her eyes as if she had heard you wrong, but then it morphed into something similar to fear. “Oh. H-how did…?”

So you told her everything you could in the steadiest voice you can muster; from the incident in college, to the therapy sessions, to the threats against you, you told her everything and it amazes you that you were able to admit it without crying. You’re not going to lie; telling someone else felt relieving, especially since it’s someone who knows Jaehyun — literally raised him. You only stopped when you noticed her eyes tearing up and you internally panicked.

“You know about my son’s condition?” Her lips quivered, brows finally burrowed and a hand flies over her mouth to contain her sob.

“M-mother…” You stuttered, holding your hands out to her. “I— no matter what happens, I’m not going to tell anyone else about it, I promise—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” She quietly cries, “All these years, I’ve feared my son won’t be able to find someone to love and understand him. [Y/N], you’re godsent. You know what goes through his head… he’s shown you what he could do… yet you stayed? You still want to marry him?”

This makes you tear up, somewhat understanding the fear of a mother for their child. “I’ve thought about it for so long honestly, but no matter what excuses I come up with, I can’t imagine a future without him.”

She cries a little harder, hiding her face into her palms. You move to sit beside her, putting an arm around her and hugging her gently. After a while, you pull away and she looks at you with a smile. “Thank you for loving my son.”

“Thank you for giving birth to him.”

This makes both of you laugh as she pulls you into a hug, “[Y/N], sweetheart, if ever his BPD acts up, if he ever scares you again, please come to me, okay?”

You replied with a promise, hugging back and feeling your eyes stinging at the sudden weight being lifted over your chest.

“Now,” She says, pulling away and holding onto your shoulders, “Tell me more about these threats. I can’t believe Jaehyun wouldn’t tell us about it.”

“He probably thinks he has it under control and I trust him. We don’t want any of you to worry.”

“That’s nonsense! We’re your parents, we’re always worried about you.” She scolds, “But knowing Jaehyun, he probably has done the most he can do. I’m sure this issue will be resolved soon… and I’m sorry for the things Jaehyun has done in the past. I wish I could say I would have done something to stop him, but his father—”

She stops mid-sentence, lashes fluttering as she realizes the words that were about to come out of her mouth. She inhales deeply, “You’re marrying into the family. You have the right to know. Most of the Jungs have BPD; it’s horrible that it’s genetic, but with proper therapy it would mean nothing.”

You licked your lips, already knowing this fact. “So… Jaehyun’s father…”

“His father and I were arranged to be married. It made sense because our parents were business partners so we didn’t have any qualms on it, his father was quite handsome — I’d have to admit that Jaehyun is practically the carbon copy of him now. But then eventually, I learned that his father had personally requested to have us arranged. When I confronted him about it, he chalked it up to him liking me but being shy around me. He first showed me his true colors when he demanded me to quit my work; I’m an event planner, I travel all around the country for my work if needed and he didn’t like that. He accused me of cheating and such, which were all false of course, but he just couldn’t believe it. He started getting angry, very vocal, never laid a hand on me though, but I still got scared. It was when we found out that I was pregnant with Jaehyun that he finally told me everything about him, how he was scared he’d inherit it. That was the first time I’ve seen him so vulnerable and raw. It was then I decided to obey him and quit my job.”

“I thought you left your job to take care of Jaehyun.”

“No,” She sighs, “I left my job because his father told me to.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

You smiled, although your brows were furrowed. It was Monday morning and you were preparing lunch since Kyungwon was coming over to work things out for Yuta’s apartment. Jaehyun was supposed to arrive later that evening until you received a call from him and put him on speaker.

“Jaehyun, it’s fine. I understand. Work is work. Do what you have to do.” But you have to admit you’re a little disappointed his trip had to be extended for a few more days since he had to go to China to meet up with Sicheng.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to. Just stay safe, okay?” You silently hissed when you accidentally touched the metal knob of the pot lid. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Tell Kyungwon I said hi.”

“Okay. Bye, baby.” You glanced over to your phone and waited for him to drop the call before checking the penne pasta you’ve been boiling. Kyungwon had originally told you to come to the office, but you insisted she came over instead and she had no qualms about it. You’ve already laid out your laptop and papers on half of the dining table so you two could get things done quickly.

She arrives a little past twelve since she came from the office and right off the bat, you could tell something was off with her. She was still her bubbly self, but something wasn’t right. You couldn’t question her about it because she commented about being hungry and it would be rude to keep your guest waiting for food.

“Oh my god! So you’ve chosen a wedding location already? Ah! [Y/N], I’m so excited for you!” She squeals, vibrating in her seat so hard that the pasta she’s stabbed through her fork has fallen back onto the plate. “And a spring wedding? Gosh! It’s going to be beautiful.”

“Enough about me, Kyung. How about you? What’s been going on back at the office? Are the old employees back?”

“Yes. Ugh! Somehow they got it into their heads that they’re so great because they got rehired by the company.” She scowls, rolling her eyes and shoving pasta into her mouth. “But aside from that, it's the same old, same old. Oh! Eunbi from finance is pregnant with her rebound.”

“Rebound? She broke up with her boyfriend?”

Kyungwon shakes her head with a smug look on her face, “No, honey, her boyfriend dumped her last month.”

“Oh my god, is the rebound going to take responsibility?”

“It looks like it. She’s a lot happier — and good for her! Her ex was rude whenever he got invited to any of our hangouts.”

You nod your head, picking up your glass of water, “So how about you? Have you gotten laid yet?”

She uncharacteristically falls silent, eyebrows shooting up to her forehead as she avoids your gaze momentarily until she snaps it back to meet your stare. In one breath, she says: “Okay, don’t be mad but I slept with Yuta.”

You pushed your chair back, trying to hold yourself back from spitting the water you had just drank. After forcefully swallowing, you breathed in deeply and looked back at Kyungwon, who now covered her blushing face with her hands. “Whoa.”

“You said it was okay!”

“I’m not scolding you!”

She threw herself back on the seat and whined, “I’ve kept this secret for so long since I can’t blab about it back in the office. Oh, [Y/N], he’s a fucking god.”

You pursed your lips, “I don’t think I need to know the details about my client’s sex life.”

“Okay, but he’s a fucking god.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s either that’s true or you’ve been out of the game for too long.”

“Please. None of my exes can compare to what that man did to me.” Her dreamy smile slowly falls, “But we made it strictly physical and he seems pretty closed off, too.”

“Wait, it wasn’t just a one night stand?”

She flicks her hair off her shoulder and clicks her tongue, “I guess he’s lonely, too.”

“But good for you, Kyungwon. At least you’re getting laid.”

“Why do you sound like you’re not getting laid? You’re getting married to a Greek god.”

“It’s not that.” You laughed, “Did it sound like that? It’s just because he’s overseas at the moment and I’m feeling lonely.”

Kyungwon snorts, side-eyeing you as she takes a drink from her glass. “Honey, don’t tell me you solely depend on Jaehyun to get off.”

“I—” You feel your face heat up. Come to think of it, you haven’t masturbated in a while. You’ve touched yourself, but those were in front of him and he’d never let you come undone with your fingers alone. “Well, no, I don’t. I can do it on my own, but it’s just not gratifying.”

“Is it bad that I’m curious what he’s like in bed?”

“Only if you try to find out.”

“God, no, of course not.” She recoils, “Just one of the many curiosities I have that I won’t act on. This thing with Yuta is a weekly thing, you know. Unless he calls me.”

You finish your meal, “You’re a booty call.”

“I’d do anything for that dick.”

“Hey, he’s our client, remember. Don’t get hypnotized by the dick.”

“Oh, [Y/N], if you only knew.” She lets out a dreamy sigh and you laugh, throwing your napkin at her.

“I don’t plan to. Get your head out of his pants, we have to work on his apartment.”

After putting away your dishes, you and Kyungwon began to work; making final checks for orders and deliveries, browsing for more design pieces, and the likes. It took longer than you two expected, extending up two hours than what you had originally planned. You finally decided to stop when you spy from the corner of your eye Kyungwon stifling a yawn, uploading all your work onto the shared drive between the three of you before stretching your arms upwards.

“Are you hungry?”

“Please tell me you have some good ol’ ramen in your pantry.”

You scoffed, “Of course, I do. I’ll go make some right now.”

You have the ramen cooked and ready for consumption in no time; each of you had a full bowl with a few side dishes you were able to put together while the water boiled. Instead of work, you and Kyungwon talked about your new house; told her about the materials you wanted, your plans for each room, the layout, and she even offered her own insight that you considered.

“4 bedrooms on the second floor?”

“Well, 3 bedrooms and the nursery. The fourth room will be turned to a walk-in closet for me and Jaehyun to share.”

“Oh my god, that would be a dream to design!”

You purse your lips, “Well, the two extra rooms are for our future kids. I’m sure they’ll want to renovate as they grow older. Would you like to work on their rooms when the time comes?”

She fakes a gasp, covering her mouth, “I would be honored! But gosh, when’s this happening? In 20 years?”

Both of you laugh as you finish your noodles. Kyungwon offered to do the dishes, but you refused, and fortunately, she received a call from a different client that forced her to leave. She thanked you for the day and you walked to the door, where both of you were surprised to see Hyunwoo about to ring the bell.

“Good evening, ma’am. These came in for you.” He smiles, holding out the flowers and teddy bear.

“Oh, thank you.” You glanced at Kyungwon, showing your confusion at the situation.

“I’m totally not jealous that your fiance sent you apology gifts for not coming home today.” She shrugs her shoulders, feeling the teddy bear’s ear between her fingertips. “But I’m oddly really happy for you. See you soon, [Y/N].”

You kiss her cheek and wave her goodbye, “See you, Kyungwon.”

After they leave, you heaved a sigh and inspected the gifts. Red roses, like always, and a pretty hefty teddy bear. You thought it was odd, but Jaehyun has his cheesy moments, excusing the teddy bear as a stand in for himself so you won’t get lonely until he gets home. You walk back to the dining table to put the gifts down and pick up your phone, dialling his number to thank him, but the call wouldn’t connect. He’s either on the plane already or he doesn’t have a signal. Instead, you put the flowers in a vase and placed it on the dining table as a centerpiece.

Before having a late dinner of some scrambled eggs and spam, you worked on both the interior of the mansion and looking for a wedding gown inspo. Sooyeon told you to prepare what you had in mind for a wedding gown and she’ll hook you up with any of the top wedding dress designers in the industry. You’re torn between empire and A-line dresses, liking both fits on your body but couldn’t decide which is better for the theme. You also didn’t know if you wanted lace or tulle, what type of neckline, the accents, etc. All the dresses looked so good and you already know not to bring it up to Jaehyun because he’ll make some bullshit excuse to buy all of them. Although you don’t mind having different dresses; like changing into something more simple for the reception. You were also concerned about what shoes to wear since it’s a garden wedding, you wouldn’t be able to wear heels that you would have preferred.

You have a shower before heading to bed, taking your time in lathering your body with lavender-scented body wash to help you relax. After breezing through your nighttime routine, you walked out to the bed while tugging your hair loose from the haphazardly tied bun you put in. Seeing the empty bed reminded you of the teddy bear you had received earlier and you quickly went out of the room to grab it on the dining table to retrieve it. You weren’t really going to sleep with it, but you’d like to put it on the accent chair you had on the opposite side of the room.

Your phone rings just as you were about to put on some lotion and you smile to yourself seeing Jaehyun’s name. You put him on loudspeaker, “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, baby.” His voice drawls, “Sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier. I was on the plane and I couldn’t get to you when I landed because Sicheng and his friends took me to a bar.”

“Jaehyun, baby, are you drunk right now?”

“No, baby, just a little tipsy. Did you get my little gift? Toss the old flowers out.”

“You didn’t have to, but thanks.” You hummed, unscrewing the cap of your favorite body butter tin. “Where are you now?”

“Don’t worry, I’m already at my hotel room. I wanted to hear your voice before I go to sleep.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He pauses on the other side of the line and you hear what sounded like him getting into bed, “Were you about to go to sleep, too?”

“Yeah, I’m just putting lotion on.”

A long, low moan echoes from your phone and you halt your movements. A tipsy, lonely Jaehyun could only mean one thing.

“Baby, can we video call?”

The next two days were uneventful; you visited the mansion to oversee the renovations being done and was pleased to see it going smoothly as it was exactly as you envisioned it. Other than that, you also spent a lot of time going through IKEA and other home decor stores, picking out possible pieces you’d purchase. It’s still a stressful thought to think you have an entire mansion to design AND you get to live in it. Whenever you had clients for projects like these, you always mused to yourself how you would like it if you were the one living in the said space but now that the time has come, you’re overwhelmed.

Just as you got home, you get a call from Jaehyun.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey. I just got home.” You closed the door and locked it, while kicking your shoes off.

“Oh, good. Could you do me a favor? There’s an important file on my computer that I forgot to upload to the drive. Do you mind sending it to Sicheng using my email?”

“Sure, which file is it?”

As Jaehyun explains the file to you, you made your way to his office and flipped the light switch on. Plopping yourself down on his chair, you powered up his computer and waited for it to start. Meanwhile, you two updated each other of your days and plans for tomorrow.

“Okay, I found the file. What’s Sicheng’s email?” You typed in the address after Jaehyun dictates and clicked send. “Done! Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

Jaehyun chuckles, whispering into the phone, “You can be ready in bed when I come home on Friday.”

“Alright, sir.” You purred, leaning back on his chair. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. See you on Friday.”

After hanging up, you reach for the mouse to turn the computer off until your eyes gloss over the name ‘Jeong Yoonoh’ as one of the names listed in Jaehyun’s mailboxes. You remember seeing it a few weeks ago and it completely left your mind, but now you’re curious about it. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth; it’s wrong to snoop around Jaehyun’s email like this, but you give into temptation anyway.

A relieved and incredulous sigh leaves you when you spot the prominent subject and sender, even letting out a little chuckle when you see the dates of the emails. This was Jaehyun’s burner email for porn sites back when he was in high school. You wanted to tease him about it so badly, but then you had to tell him that you were snooping around in his computer. Other emails looked like spam that came with signing up for the porn sites so you didn’t pay much attention since most of them involved viagra, online dating, and the likes. You were about to click out to hide evidence of your snooping around until you read the sender’s name: Detective Go Hyunmo of Gangnam P.I. Agency. You thought it was odd, but maybe it was spam like the rest, unless this email got caught accessing porn sites. It didn’t have a subject so you couldn’t really tell, but you still didn't open it and closed the computer after clicking out of the browser. As you switched the lights off and closed Jaehyun’s office door behind you, you can’t help but feel like you’ve heard Gangnam P.I. Agency before.

Jaehyun comes home today and you feel like a child waiting for their parents who’d been away for too long. He said he’ll be dropping some documents at the office and will be home after lunch. As he requested two days ago, you were going to be ready in bed for him when he returns and that means a tedious DIY spa session after you had breakfast. Once you were showered, exfoliated, and moisturized, you put on the new lingerie set you bought yesterday; a black sheer bra that had crocheted flowers and matching crotchless panties that had a string of pearls that ran right over your slit. It felt incredibly embarrassing when you tried it on, especially when the pearls move along your clit every time you moved.

“Honey, I’m home!” You hear outside the room just before the door closes. You booked out of the walk-in closet and ran, as quietly as you can, back into the bedroom, sparing a glance down the hallway to make sure Jaehyun doesn’t catch you. You ungracefully flung yourself to the bed, scrambling to find a position to present yourself to him, but you accidentally elbowed your phone off and it makes a loud thud on the floor.

“[Y/N]?”

Cussing under your breath, you stretch your arm out to grab your phone to put on the nightstand but then you hear a long whistle that makes you drop it again. You whipped your attention to Jaehyun, who now stood at the door frame with the first few buttons of his dress shirt already undone, and you smiled, “Welcome home?”

“Wow.” He drawls, dragging his eyes down your body, “When I said be ready for me, you really took it a step further. Is that new?”

“I got it yesterday.” You leaned back on your arms, folding your legs a little, “It’s a little more special than the others.”

“How so?” He takes slow steps towards you, tossing his blazer off.

Peeling your legs apart, you spread them out for him to see just what you were talking. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as Jaehyun’s eyes stared at your pearls and his tongue just darted out of his lips. An easy smile grows on his face, walking up to the bed and running a hand over your inner thigh.

“Damn, I didn’t know pearls looked good on you.” He runs a finger over the shiny beads, “But nothing can compare to my favorite pearl.”

Pushing the pearls aside, he presses your clit with his thumb and your hips instinctively buck upwards to meet his touch. He keeps his thumb on your clit while he runs two fingers between your pussy in a languid manner.

“You look so good, baby.” Jaehyun leans down to kiss the spot above your navel. “I hope you’re ready for me.”

“Always.”

He pulls away to remove his belt and as he does so, his eyes flutter to the other side of the room and he cocks his head, “You bought a teddy bear? Were you that lonely when I was gone?”

“What?” You sit up, glancing at the stuffed toy, “You got me that. It came with the roses.”

Jaehyun looks back at you, face completely stoic, before stepping away to walk over to the item in question.

“Jaehyun?”

He picks the toy up and inspects it, turning it over a few times until he squints at the bear’s beady eyes. A low growl escapes him as he closes his fist around the toy’s head and rips it away from the body, the distinct sound of thread snapping and cloth ripping filling the silence of the room.

“Jaehyun, what the fuck?” You scoot over the edge of the bed, ready to stop him until he swiftly turns back to you. His expression sends shivers down your spine; you’ve seen that look before and you can’t believe you’re seeing it again.

“I never gave you this fucking bear, [Y/N].” He hurls the decapitated head to the side with so much force that the cotton filled toy makes a resounding thud against the wall. He forces his hand inside the bear’s head and takes out a small black cube. “There’s a fucking camera in it’s head. Who handed these to you?”

“H-Hyunwoo did… Wait, Jaehyun, can we—”

He slams the camera onto the floor, breaking it into pieces, before storming out the bedroom. You were frozen from flinching at his outburst that it took you awhile to collect yourself, scrambling off the bed to grab his discarded blazer and running out after him.

“Jae, wait!” You yelled, slipping his jacket on and clutching it close over your chest.

“Hyunwoo, did the flowers I had delivered here last Monday come with a teddy bear?” Jaehyun was on his phone, pacing by the couch. “It came separately? Which came first? The flowers? Fucking— go find out who delivered them and report back to me ASAP.”

He ends the call and angrily throws his cellphone to the floor, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

“Baby…” You silently gulped, approaching him cautiously; you don’t know what to say, however, completely at a loss for words at the revelation. “What’s happening?”

Jaehyun still doesn’t look at you when he tears his hand away and puts them to his hips, glaring down at wilting begonias. In a split second, he grabs the pot and hurls it across the room; shards of clay, dirt, leaves, and petals exploding against the wall. You gasped, instinctively hugging yourself to block off any debris in case it reached you.

“Jaehyun, what the fuck?!”

“I didn’t give you that damn plant and I didn’t give you that fucking bear either!” He yelled, nose flaring and veins popping out of his neck. “I don’t know who the fuck this shithead is, but I’m going find and kill him.”

He starts walking to the front door with wide steps, fixing the belt he had previously undone.

“Jaehyun, wait!” Your chest clenches in panic, “Jaehyun!”

When he was a few more paces away from the door, you gave one last scream of his name; you’re sure your neighbors heard you and are a phone call away from the police if they also heard the things Jaehyun had thrown around. He looks back at you, still visibly infuriated at the situation, but his expression softens into concern when he sees your face.

You don’t know when you started crying, but you were suddenly aware of it when a few tears dropped onto your hand that still clutched onto his blazer. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t the one who gave the begonias?”

“I—I didn’t want you to panic…” He licks his lips, fully turning his body to face you.

“A-and now… and now w-we just found out that I was being… being secretly recorded for—for d-days,” Your vision starts to blur as fresh tears spring from your eyes, “And you’re just going to leave — again?”

He looks absolutely crushed to see you like this, “Y-you’re right. I’m sorry — no, okay, I won’t leave, come here.”

He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tight and repeatedly kissing the top of your head while you hide your face in his chest to sob.

“What do they want with me?”

“No, I don’t think they’re after you, baby.” Jaehyun whispers, still kissing your hair while running his hand down your back to console you. “I think they’re after me.”

This doesn’t make you feel any better. You cry a little harder, body shaking in his hold as you looped your arms around his waist. Jaehyun’s enemies are your enemies, if he truly had any. This should have been common knowledge to you already. It’s no secret how important you are to him and it only makes sense that they’ll pick on you to get to him. You’ve already handled the demon in his mind; you’ve learned to accept it. Dealing with someone — an actual human being — from Jaehyun’s world is wading through murky waters. You’re either the target or the bait, and it’s upsetting to think that whichever you’re treated as, someone’s going to get hurt. No, there’s this horrible gut feeling, a nagging voice in the back of your head, that just tells you that chances are…

Someone’s going to die.

a/n: it’s a little shorter again, but we’re getting closer and closer to the climax and aaaaaah the trailer drop!!!!! like always, please please please let me know what you guys think here

next: part 11

~ buy me a peach? why?

#nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #devoted au

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sweetrupturedlight · 4 years

Text

This week on Sen Çal Kapımı

Serkan's inability to articulate his feelings for Eda has him literally man down, while Eda contemplates their kinda, sorta, maybe mutual feelings and her future. Other stuff happens, but come on, with this episode, Edser takes centre stage as the ship sets sail on the high seas.

Before we jump right into it, last week in this post, I bulleted the things all of us expected was coming.

Let’s take one moment to note the glorious ways in which all of these things unfolded?

Nursing back to health

Pining

Severe angst

Breaking point

Dear writers of this show, we appreciate you. We are truly blessed.

Now, on to this week. The episode picks up where we left off, with Selin giving Serkan 2 days to decide whether she drops Ferit like a hot potato on the eve of their wedding. Let’s be clear, she wants to dump a man she is supposed to marry in two days to resume a logical and clinical relationship? Is Selin even in love with Serkan? It doesn’t seem like he treated her very well – but then again, it seems their relationship had a very logical genesis – no sweeping romantic gestures, no sweet words, no compliments it would seem! etc. So objectively I’m not sure what exactly makes that prospect better than the one with Ferit – who clearly does love and care for her. But I digress.

Essentially, this is how it plays out:

Selin: “Let me know in max 2 days if you want to be with me, k.”

Serkan: ...

Eda: Simply exists.

Serkan: Stares directly at Selin as he deliberately grasps Eda’s hand and holds on for dear life.

Now, they say actions speak louder than words... so how is Selin still not clear on the fact that Serkan not rushing to end her marriage means he’s not interested???

Anyhoo, Serkan and Eda spend most of the episode circling around the same.

Did you say yes to Selin?

What is your opinion on my situation with Selin?

Would you stay?

I can’t stay because… reasons

If either one of these to love-struck puppies took a second to reflect, they would realise that they actually have the answers already. Eda in fact, does consider for a minute that Serkan might actually have feelings for her. Serkan however, is convinced Eda cannot wait to get out of his life - which makes his bold move at the end of the episode a great moment for his own growth as a character. He was operating on his feelings and taking an emotional risk, having no idea how she actually felt. Yes, he had the note she left, but up until 20 minutes earlier, he was still fighting Engin on the notion that she could genuinely have feelings for him.

Speaking on Engin, writers, I have faith that we will see Engin mercilessly tease Serkan in the next episode about his heart eyes and his newfound familiarity with the language of love. This is likely going to bring great comedic gold. Its also not lost on me that Engin can so easily see the love between Serkan and Eda, but is totally clueless about his own romantic entanglements. To be honest, I’m not invested in this romance, so whomever he ends up with - or doesn’t - is fine by me.

Listen, I’m high key bursting at the fact that Eda and Serkan both already see the other in their bed(s). Them facing “each other” with longing was one of the smaller moments of the episode, but one of my favourites. And because this show is so good at parallels, I’m putting it out there that we will get a scene of them sharing a bed without Serkan needing to turn his back to her, but also without Serkan ruining the mood once daybreak arrives. Eda is a snuggler and she loves to sleep. I’m looking forward to bedroom shenanigans. Also, can Eda (and Engin) find the pictures of them he’s clearly carrying around in his wallet at this point? Please and thank you.

SIDE NOTE: according to Laila, Serkan has a conference in London “next week” which has been reserved for two people. Since I’m going out on a limb and saying Serkan won’t be travelling with Selin, will Eda accompany him to the UK? One can only hope for a honeymoon romantic getaway business trip.

Adore the “don’t leave” parallels that the show has been dropping like golden nuggets for the past few weeks. Serkan has spent multiple episodes in a struggle with himself. If Eda wants to leave, he insists its not his style to ask her to stay. But by episodes end he is so frenzied at the thought of his life without her, he’s ready and willing to say it m u l t i p l e times. We love a glow up.

Things I loved about this episode:

The handhold 5 seconds in & Eda’s impulsive kiss on his cheek.

The super cheesy let’s-randomly-turn-on-the-radio-and-awkwardly-listen-to-the-exact-song-describing-our entire-love-story. The way I was lapping it up with shovel. Also, Başak Gümülcinelioğlu’s (aka the actress playing Piril) song Sen Çal Kapımı is beautiful. All the fanvids, all the time please oh talented vidders.

Serkan’s meltdown at the office the minute he realised she’s about to leave. Hilarious. I truly enjoy seeing him a little off kilter and a lot out of control. Just looking at how his employees have relaxed since he’s been more relaxed - due to Eda’s influence - is a great subtle storytelling mechanism as well.

Immensely enjoyed Nurse Eda - especially her traditional approach to checking temperatures. LOL. Just a comment that despite Eda believing Serkan and Selin are most likely a thing, she refuses to leave his side in deference to Selin. I totally loved seeing her stake her claim. And judging by the never-you-mind, irritated way with which Serkan basically told Selin to move along, Serkan doesn’t want people around when he’s sick - but he certainly wants Eda.

Serkan going from unable to communicate to “you’re constantly in my head, in my every thought! You’ve taken over my brain! You’ve taken over my entire life!” #FlingsSelfIntoTheSun

THE KISS. Beautiful cinematography, beautiful direction, gorgeous cast, amazing script. Loved everything about it.

Things that broke/confused me

Serkan being a complete dolt and instead of enjoying the woman he loves cuddled up beside him, he takes the time to reiterate that he doesn’t remember their conversation from the night before. SMH. Eda was about to risk it all one last time, and Serkan’s poorly timed dose of realness is the final straw.

The tears in his eyes when she left the office. He was still fighting being vulnerable, even after Eda basically gave him the roadmap with an x for how to achieve success. Thankfully, by episodes end his own desperation at potentially losing her outweighed his “logic” and self preservation. Eda is teaching Serkan that its okay to need other people and that he doesn’t have to shoulder everything alone. #MyEndlessFloodOfTears

Aydan being unable to see how very much Serkan loves Eda and her - bordering on delusional at this point - push for Serkan to marry a woman who inspires no passion, no interest, no life, no spark in him! I understood it initially. But now it’s just comical. Seyfi is clearly team #Edser. I know the Bolat’s have a history of trauma. But pushing Serkan into a loveless marriage, while hurting Ferit and potentially Eda (and Serkan himself) seems absurd to me.

Ayfer’s reaction to the contract was OOT IMO. The show has been quite light handed with drama and this was the first time I thought the hysterics was over done. I understand that it was a shock, I understand that feelings of betrayal and hurt are natural. But a moment of reflection - as well as allowing Eda to explain - would have easily highlighted what Ayfer already knows - that there is a lot more happening between Eda and Serkan than a mere contract. Furthermore, this “Serkan Bolat is the devil incarnate here to take advantage of our poor Eda” is ridiculous. Serkan is a good person - logical and sometimes aloof - but he isn’t devious. If anything, Ayfer getting to know him during their terrarium creating afternoon left her with a good impression of who he is. So unless there are missing scenes somewhere, her suddenly being anti-Serkan feels like a necessity to serve the upcoming plot, as opposed to an organic happenstance. Not my favourite development. This includes her orchestrating Eda’s scholarship in Italy. Feels out of character. But let’s see how it all plays out.

Things I know is coming:

From the fragman, Serkan names a star or something after her #squee

Selin finally getting it

Aydan not getting it

Seyfi being over the moon - along with Melo no doubt

D R A M A about parents and death and cover-ups but I’m ignoring that for now

And most importantly:

Dating

Kissing

Hugging

Giggles

#FlingsSelfIntoTheEverLovingSun #NotPrepared

#sen cal kapimi #Sen Çal Kapımı #edser #serkan bolat #eda yildiz #naz rambles #JFC I love this show #THANKS FOR MY BB FOR LIFE MIRI FOR POINTING ME AT THIS SHOW #I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER #f long post #so under the cut

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

I know this is very broad but what are your favorite “love confessions” fics? No established relationship. I’ve read so many slow burn fics that are a million chapters but I really want to find some relatively shorter ones :) Specifically ones that are in a “normal” universe(no fantasy, sci-fi, historical, etc.). Can be post S4 or anywhere in the timeline!

Hi Nonny!

Ahhh, I have a tonne of Love Confession fics, and I’m gonna use this opportunity to make the Part 4 list <3 I tag and word count all my fic recs, so you can file through them and hopefully you’ll find stuff you enjoy! <3 Most of all of my Love Confession fics are non-Established Relationship fics, so you’re all good!!

Love you Nonny, and as usually, Lovelies, add your own fics if you have any! <3

LOVE CONFESSIONS PT. 4

See also:

Love Confessions / Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. (Fluff Version)

Platonics & Domestics Pt 2 / Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 3 / Tooth-Rotting Fluff Pt. 5 / Love Confessions, Slow Burn & Dev. Rel. Pt. 2 / Established Relationship Pt. 3

Love Confessions Pt. 3

Promise of Sussex by LittleLongHairedOutlaw (T, 705 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Angst, Pining, Ambiguous Ending) – John tries to keep Sherlock conscious after he's been shot on a case.

I Knew You Loved Me by inevitably_johnlocked (T, 743 w., 1 Ch. || Morning Cuddles, Fluff, Clingy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slice of Life, Morning After, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Declarations of Love, Pet Name, Bed Sharing, Snuggles) – John and Sherlock share a lie-in the morning after their first time. So fluffy and gross your teeth will fall out. Part 4 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Santa Knows by Itsallfine (T, 1,719 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Party, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Matchmaking, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock and John both get exactly what they want from the Yard's secret Santa exchange. Pure holiday fluff.

Like Euphoria and Scotch by FinAmour (M, 1,856 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Alchohol / Drinking, POV Second Person Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Imagination, Armchair Sex, Fluff, Happy Ending) – 5 different ways it all could have gone + the one way it actually works itself out.

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

Love Hurts by Grac3 (T, 2,215 w., 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, Pining Sherlock, One-Sided Pining / URT, Sherlock / John Whump, Angst, Ambiguous Ending) – In a world where someone's physical injuries manifest themselves on the person who is in love with them, John didn't think that there would ever be anyone who was willing to risk falling in love with him - until he got shot on a case, and it didn't hurt. Unrequited Johnlock.

Hell or High water by bluefire301175 (E, 2,250 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Frottage, Alley Sex, First Person POV John, Case-ish Fic, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing) – John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple.

The Healing Touch by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 2,307 w., 1 Ch. || Caretaking, Domestic Fluff, Stroppy Sherlock, John Loves Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sofa Cuddles, Insecure Sherlock) – Sherlock's broken his foot and he's becoming unbearably stroppy. Good thing John has the healer's touch... ;) Part 3 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Closeted by Sexxica (E, 2,762 w., 1 Ch. || Trapped in a Closet, Panicking Sherlock, Hand Jobs, Coming in Pants, Awkward Conversations, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluffy Ending) – An improvised hiding spot and a bit of accidental voyeurism leave John and Sherlock in an awkward position.

Better Late Than Never by sussexbound (NR (T), 3,021 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4 / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock POV, Love Confessions, Drunk Sherlock / Sober John, John Takes Care of Sherlock, First Kiss, Jealous Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil) – He suddenly wants John Watson out of his bedroom, out of his flat, out of his life, because he has been lying to himself these last few months, he realises. He doesn’t want John here, not with the way things are. He doesn’t want 221b Baker Street to be nothing more than rest stop John returns to on his journeys between women. He doesn’t want to play co-parent if Rosie is going to be snatched away from him and placed in the arms of whatever nameless woman du jour John lands on next. He doesn’t want to keep being so careful, so generous, so, so…

The General Idea by agirlsname (T, 3,022 w., 1 Ch. || Retirement, Promise of Forever / Proposal, POV John, First Kiss, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Crying / Emotional Sherlock, Love Confessions) – After twenty years of friendship, John is used to Sherlock acting weirdly. But the news Sherlock finally brings himself to deliver change the carefully built dynamics between them, and John realises it's time to act.

Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down by standbygo (M, 3,282 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, Five Plus One, Missing Scenes, Parenthood, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Declarations of Love, Fluff, Food, John Whump) – Five times when Sherlock and John ate together, and one time they didn't. A history of the boys, in food.

Coldness/Heat by agirlsname (E, 3,790 w., 1 Ch. || Cuddling & Snuggling, Body Heat, New Year’s Eve, PWP, Bed Sharing, Frottage) – The inn is booked up on New Year's Eve. The train home is cancelled because of the snow. The only option is to sleep in the non-heated guest room of a client, and John and Sherlock are freezing.You know where this is going. Part 1 of New Year's Kiss

Obsession, Appassionato by shinychimera, Yeomanrand (E, 4,249 w., 1 Ch. || Possessive Sherlock, First Time, Jealous Sherlock, Music / Sherlock’s Violin, Present Tense, Frottage) – John is late, and he hasn’t called, and Sherlock works himself into a state. Part 1 of Love and Ysaye

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

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

Pillow Talk by scullyseviltwin (M, 5,183 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Angsty Fluff, PIllow Talk, Bed Sharing, Worried John, First Time Morning After, Soft Sherlock, Sexuality Discussion, Love Confessions, Kisses and Cuddles) – John has been looking at Sherlock for ages, it feels like.

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe (G, 5,504 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Stabbed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Panic Attack (Sherlock), Self Esteem Issues, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When John moves back to 221B, he thinks he’s the broken one, but after a while, it becomes clear that he might not be correct.

Captain John Watson, Genetics, and Other Crazy Things by cyerus (M, 5,581 w., 1 Ch. || Torchwood Crossover || Humour / Crack, Jealous Sherlock, Sexual Magnet John, Captain John, UST / RST, Three Continents Watson) – The explanation for John "Three Continents" Watson? Jack Harkness is his father. Sherlock doesn't know whether he's going to die from jealousy or sexual frustration first.

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

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

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

where the good things grow by anchors (M, 7,066 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Magical Realism, Gardens, Tea, Friends to Lovers) – "I have a magic garden." As come-ons go, John's heard worse.

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

Sometimes When We Touch by kedgeree (M, 7,755 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Kiss/Time, Inappropriate Giggling, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Virgin Sherlock, John Whump, Touching) – John might be touching Sherlock a little more often than is strictly necessary. Sherlock probably hasn't even noticed. Right...?

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w., 1 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w., 1 Ch. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres.The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

The Very Unlikely Existence of a Flightless Bird in a Tuxedo by cwb (E, 8,829 w., 1 Ch. || Poetry, Penguins / Animals / Zoos, First Kiss / Time, Blow / Hand Jobs, Sleepy Cuddles, Endearments, Friendship / Love, Adorable / Sleepy Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock Can’t Say Penguin) – A case at the zoo reveals something John finds cute about Sherlock. A conversation ensues, and so does happy endings.

Unwasted by patternofdefiance (E, 8,966 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3 / S3 Fix-It, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Angelo’s, Fluff, First Time, Anal, Cum Play, Flashbacks to ASiB, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Bottomlock, Cuddles, Multiple Orgasms, BJ’s, Bed Sharing) – John finds it three months after he's moved back. He's on the hunt for something to make for dinner, is scrounging through the cupboards, when he happens upon the graveyard of pasta boxes Sherlock still seems to create when left to his own devices. Behind seven boxes of pasta, all almost completely empty, is a dark-glassed bottle, with a paler coat of dust.It's unopened. John's face falls slack when he sees it, instantly recognises it, and for a long moment he just stands and looks at it.

Inked in Memory by 221b_hound (E, 9,716 w., 2 Ch. || Post-HLV, Tattoos, First Kiss / Time, Anal, Cuddling, Scars, Captain John, Kissing, Switchlock) – John has been back at Baker Street for a year, following the debacle that ended in Mary's death. Things are good. Back almost to what they used to be. Sherlock might wish they were something else, now, but he only has himself to blame, he thinks. It's too late, now, for the things he first denied before he'd ruined any chances he might have had. Sherlock also thinks that people who get tattoos are idiots. But perhaps he's about to learn a thing or two, not least of which might be it's not as late as he thinks it is. Part 1 of Lock and Key

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street by earlgreytea68 (M, 10,388 w., 2 Ch. || Post TRF, Halloween / Ghosts, Pining Sherlock, Ghost Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Angry Sex, Ghost Sex, Love Confessions, Open / Ambiguous Ending) – In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

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

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

Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain by theimprobable1 (M, 17,664 w., 11 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Angst & Fluff, First Kiss, Unrequited, Jealous Sherlock, Protective Sherlock) – John is devastated after his long-term girlfriend leaves him. Sherlock helps him through it.

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock's body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn't as sure...

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

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Romance, First Time) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

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

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

5 Times John Got the Girl (and lost her) and 1 Time John Got the Guy (and kept him) by LiviKate (M, 21,695 w., 6 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Kissing, Oblivious / Awkward Sherlock, BAMF / Sexy / Stud John, Embarassed John, John’s Scar, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Sherlock) – John has always had good luck with the ladies. He's charming, friendly and funny, not to mention great in bed. However, his usual skill with the opposite sex is constantly being thwarted by Sherlock and his outbursts. How will John ever get a leg over when Sherlock is always cockblocking him?

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

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing.Almost...magical.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

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

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01 (E, 36,833 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Time, Reunion, Jealous John, Pining Sherlock, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending) – When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Turn Left at the Park by Glenmore (NR (E), 37,409 w., 28 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting / ASiP Divergence, Case Fic, Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Loneliness, No Mary, Possessive Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Nightmares/PTSD, Sherlock Saves John, Sherlock Whump-ish, Doctor John) – So what would have happened if John hadn't walked through the park and met Stamford?What if, instead, he walked around the park and just went home?

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

In the Still of the Night by SilentAuror (E, 42,234 w., 1 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post-S4, Sherlock POV, Angst, Drama, Romance, Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Misunderstandings / Miscommunications, Case Fic, Travelling, Pining) – As locals on the Northeastern coast begin to report UFO sightings, life at Baker Street becomes significantly awkward as John brings up his desire for more than friendship and Sherlock refuses him. They embark on the investigation from the confines of the tiny cottage Mycroft has rented for them, attempting to navigate both the clues of the case as well as their own inability to communicate...

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

Sentenced by SarahKnight (T, 44,777 w., 30 Ch. || Dev. Rel., Alternate S4 Canon, Drama, Angst, Pining, Feelings are Hard) – Virtual series 4 opener. Sherlock's in prison being targeted by a murderer, John's married to a pregnant assassin and Moriarty's back.

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

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

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

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

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

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of the SpaceBois go to Space series

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w., 12 Ch. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

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

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

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

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

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

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

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || 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, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex) – 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.

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w., 11 Ch. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

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

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

How to Build a Heart out of Ashes by Teumessian (E, 144,931 w., 31 Ch. || Changling AU || Slow Burn, Drug Use, Mentions of Child Abuse / Bullying, Mentions of Student/Teacher Relations, Uni-Age) – In an AU where a small number of the population become Changelings at a young age, at 17 John Watson believes he's destined for Normal life but then the Change takes him and he is sent to the Baker Institute. There he meets Sherlock Holmes.

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

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

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #love confessions #Anonymous #long post

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skgway · 3 years

Text

1823 Aug., Wed. 20

11 1/2

Soon began on the erotics last night. Her warm, then [e]ncouraging. I said this was not like keeping our promise. She answered, ‘no’ and reached a towel to put under us to keep the bed clean on account of her cousin. I had retired too early for her. ‘Am I too soon for you?’ ‘Yes, rather,’ said she, and I resumed, determined she should have a sufficiently good kiss before I had had one. She said she had and we fell asleep.

Both awoke at five in the morning and talked till seven. Asked if this was not better than my sleeping in Micklegate. ‘Yes,’ but it was prudence # on her part. She had a feeling she could not describe. Would make any sacrifice rather than have our connection suspected. She seemed very affectionate and fond of me. Said I was her only comfort, she should be miserable without me.

Lou has got rather out of ∂ [Charles]’s good books she – Lou never got up to breakfast living with her uncle has given her very independent notions – He waited for her – Consulted her in everything – She told C– [Charles] one morning, she got up at the hour that suited her convenience – ∂ [Charles Lawton] has therefore been sadly out of his best humour this summer and π [Mariana] sadly fidgetted –

Told M– [Mariana] that she did not understand one 1/2 my letters, and misunderstood the other – That my aunt said (speaking of the regard between us), it was “much more on one side than the other”, – On my side then hers – Miss Pattison had blushed up to the sears, and told her at Manchester that ∂ [Charles Lawton] complained of her being cold and she wished she would try to be warmer when she returned. π [Mariana] said she and ∂ [Charles Lawton] very well knew the reason of that that she could not seem warm if she did not feel so.

π [Mariana] once sat next Miss Pattison’s uncle at dinner there and he said of her she looked like one who could love. I agreed, then reverting to ourselves, ‘this is adultery to all intents and purposes.’ ‘No, no,’ said she. ‘Oh yes, π [Mariana]. No casuistry can disguise it.’ ‘Not this then, but the other.’ ‘Well,’ said I, choosing to let the thing turn her own way. ‘I always considered your marriage legal prostitution. We were both wrong. You to do and I to consent to it. And when I think of blaming others, I always remember nothing can at all excuse us but our prior connection.’

I did not pursue the subject, nor did π [Mariana] seem to think much of it. The fear of discovery is strong. It rather increases I think. But her conscience seems seared, so long as concealment is secure. She said yesterday of Harriet, if she had never liked Milne I could have made more excuse for her. Thought I to myself, if none but those who were without sin threw the first stone.

Harriet, like the woman taken in adultery, might escape – Told her she needed not fear my conduct letting out our secret. I could deceive anyone. Then told her how completely I had duped Miss Pickford # and that the success of such deep deceit almost smote me, but I had done it all for her, π [Mariana]’s, sake. ‘Why should it smite you? ‘It is deceit that does no one any harm.’

I made no reply, but mused how sophistry might reign within the breast where none suspected it. How might not this argument best retched from one deceit to another. Mary, you have passion like the rest, but your caution cheats the world out of it. Scandal and your courage is weak, rather than your principal strong. Yet is it I who write this.

She’s true to me, yes, but she has not that magnanimity of truth that satisfies a haughty spirit like mine. She is too tamely, worldly, and worldliness is her strength and weakness her foible and her virtue. She loves me, I do believe her, as well as she is capable of loving. Yet her marriage was worldly, her whole conduct is worldly to the farthest verge that craven love can bear.

How often has it struck me that years ago when once talking to Lou about this marriage and the powerful circumstances that almost compelled it. ‘Well,’ said she, ‘you do not know π [Mariana]. She is worldly and the match was worldly altogether.’ This did indeed strike me at the time but it never struck me as it does at this moment – (Thursday 21 August 3 55/60 p.m. 1823) –

It now opens upon me as the key of all that all I have never yet been able to comprehend in her character. I have doubted her love, I have doubted her sincerity. How often with an almost bursting heart have I laid aside my papers and my musings because I dared not pursue inconsistencies I could not unravel. I could not deem the dial true, I would not deem it false. The time the manner of her marriage to sink January 1815 in oblivion. Oh how it broke the magic of my faith forever. How, spite of love, it burst the spell that bound my very reason suppliant at her feet. I loathed consent but loathed the easing more. I would have given the yes she sought, tho it had rent my heart into a hundred thousand shivers. It was enough to ask –

It was a coward love that dared not brave the storm; and, in desperate despair, my proud, indignant spirit watched it sculk away – How few the higher feelings we then could have in common! The chivalry of heart was gone – Hope’s brightest hues were brushed away – Yet still one melancholy point of union remained – She was unhappy. So was I –

Love scorned to leave the ruin desolate; and time she has shaded it so sweetly, my heart still lingers in its old abiding place, thoughtless of its broken bowers, save when some sudden guest blows thro’, and scrunching memory is disturbed – But oh! no more “the heart knoweth its own bitterness,” and it is enough – “Je sens mon coeur, et je connais les hommes. Je ne suis fait comme aucun de ceux que j’ai vus; j’ose croire n'être fait comme aucun de ceux qui existent.” Rousseau's Confessions volume and page first.

She loves me. Tho it is neither exactly as I wished, nor as I too fondly persuaded myself. ‘Ere years had taught me to weigh human nature in the balance or unlock the loveliest of bosoms with the key of worldliness. Yes, she loves me. My own feelings shall descend to hers. They have done so in part. How I could have adored her had she been more of that angelic being my fancy formed her. No thought, no word, no look, had wandered then. Surely my every sentiment towards her had had less of earth in it than heaven –

How like “the visions of romantic youth”! I know she might have realized then – Je sens mon coeur – But no more – No more – I seem unable to return to the dry detail of a journal –

At seven an hour before getting up asked her to get out of bed and wash. We both did so. Then got into bed again and had a long quiet good kiss and then a comfortable nap. Got up at eight. I laughed and said we must really both of us get well as soon as we could. We owned she thought I was worse than she was, and said jokingly ‘do you forgive me for it?’ ‘Of course.’ I set her at ease on this point, but yet the characteristic difference between us always strikes me. I am sure I should even shew twice as much as she really feels –

Went downstairs at 8 1/2 – Breakfasted etc. etc. Sat next Mrs Milne. Had been very properly attentive to her. Asked π [Mariana] if she was satisfied etc. etc. Said I would act as she liked but I could not decidedly change my manners to Mrs. M[ilne] unless my real acquaintance with her conduct might be acknowledged. She has been foolish again in corresponding with her cousin, Mr. Dannett. This was the thing Eli [Eliza Belcombe] alluded to when I was last in York –

Took leave, and off from the B– [Belcombe]’s (Dr. B– [Belcombe] had had rather a restless night but was nevertheless no worse). As the minster clock struck 10 found the horses to the mail at the Tavern door, to start at 10 1/4 instead of 10 3/f as I supposed – Asked the coachman to wait a minute or 2, and hurried into Micklegate – Only just time to wish then good by, and say I should be passing thro’ again in a fortnight or 3 weeks to spend a fortnight with M– [Mariana] at Scarbro’ –

Did not see Mrs. Duffin this morning – Miss M– [Marsh] whispered last night, she had had a paralytic affectation about a fortnight ago, and had been almost gone – I perceived no difference in her as I saw her sitting round the table last night – She did not attempt to move, but this being unnecessary, did not strike me –

Got into the new mail, and drove off from the D– [Duffin]’s door at 10 1/2 – Only 1 gentleman besides myself – Beyond Tadcaster took up a nice decent elderly woman – I never uttered all the way – Wrapt in musing – Thought of π [Mariana] and the three steps business, then about my manners and appearance. Building castles about their improvement, elegance, engagingness, etc. etc. The good society I hope to get into, etc., etc.

Thought of consulting Mr. Simmons, the surgeon. George Streetman, Chester. π [Mariana] consulted him. He feared some uterary of or belonging to the womb. Determine yet might judge from the effect of Scarbro whether Steph was right in supposing it merely weakness. He had treated her judiciously. She ought to be examined, but would not submit –

At Leeds at 1 – Got out for 1/4 hour and off again (from the Rose & Crown) at 1 20/60 – Beautiful day till we got to the New Dolphin Clayton heights, and from there to the Pine-apple

H–x [Halifax], a smartish, sunshiny shower – Got out at the Pine apple at 3 40/60 – Fair and fine immediately –

Got home at 4 – Went into the stable for a moment – Caradoc had gone on well – Then went into the house, and sat talking to my uncle and aunt till 5 40/60 – Then dressed for dinner – My father and Marian called in the evening, and staid till after 8 – I was absolutely asleep almost all the time –

Came up to bed at 9, at which hour Barometer 1 1/2 degree below changeable Fahrenheit 60º – Put by my things – Read the 1st 13 pages volume 1 Rousseau Confessions –

A bowel complaint. Dawdling to stick the pot up the chimney to prevent smell. Could not manage it. All this hindered and kept me up. E [three dots, times treating venereal complaint] O [three dots, signifying much discharge] A great deal on my linen. Saw it when I washed thoroughly before dinner, first with water then alum lotion –

[in margin]

#Tuesday morning 26 August 1823 This is very well in its way, but she has more of it than love –

# Did not give the slightest hint of P[ickford]’s real character, nor does π [Mariana] at all suspect the truth. I merely said she was the most learned woman I knew and had therefore more penetration than the world in general – π [Mariana] thought she should feel under restraint before her –

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #shibden hall 1823 #mariana lawton #frances pickford

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