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astriefer · 4 years ago

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Please have this messy, badly written scenario as a humble gift to you, because I wanted to do something since I reached 200 followers!

Bits of Truth

They stood in front of the Carstairs' townhouse in Cornwall Gardens. Christopher seemed mildly confused about what they were doing there as if he had not been paying attention. James shared one last glance with Thomas before he knocked on the door.

A few bits of silence flew by, in which they had held their breaths. Then footsteps tapped on the floor, and the door cracked open.

A wave of relief passed through James that not Sona nor Risa or any other maid came to open the door. Then he thought what a peculiar thought it was for him to be relieved by. Alastair looked at them, frozen in place, blinking a few times as if he didn't believe they were truly there. He rejoined his composure hastily. He didn't let them in - he stood in the front door and his eyes searched theirs for an explanation. It was like a weird staring contest. Eventually, Alastair spoke first. "Cordelia is not here. You know it fairly well."

He moved to close the door. "We haven't come for Cordelia," he said quickly, which received another incredulous glance from Alastair. "Well, we have. But not because we thought she'd show up here. We came to talk to you."

Alastair narrowed his eyes, expressionless, and considered James. Then he glanced at Christopher and Thomas, noting their desperate eyes. "About my sister?"

"We won't take long," promised James, despite he wasn't sure it's true. Alastair studied him, and James felt himself going rigid. He leveled Alastair with his indecipherable gaze.

Then Alastair had stepped back from the door and ushered them in. "My mother is in her bedroom, resting, and Risa went shopping for supper. So, you have to be quiet. Make it quick.'

~~~~

Alastair took their coats and tilted his head towered the parlor. A kettle whiselted in the kitchen. As he gestured them inside he turned the other way. A fire burned in the chimney, and a book rested peacefully on the armchair. When James examined closer he discovered it was written in Persian. Thomas mumbled something about Persian poetry.

Alastair came inside with a tray and James thought he was, for a change, being hospitable, but he ignored them and disappeared up the stairs. When he got back, empty-handed, James assumed the tea was for his mother. Alastair placed the book on the table as he sat down in front of them. Thomas and Christopher set on a love sofa and James set stoned on another armchair. He didn't waste time being the kind host, James presumed. "What it is about my sister?"

The golden-eyed boy decided the best tactic was started from what he knew. That wasn't much, but it was the most important thing, and he was certain about it, at the very least. "I love your sister."

Alastair raised his eyebrows, amused. "Yes, that's something that tends to happen between married couples, I've been told."

James shook his head. "This marriage, of Cordelia and I," just saying her name on his lips made a treacherous skip of his heartbeat, full of hurt and love. "It was a sham marriage."

Alastair pools of dark marble were fixed on James when he explained, rather awkwardly, the events that led to their marriage. And then events that led to Cordelia leaving the country. He prospected Alastair would be outraged, throw spears at them, maybe even recite some very angry poetry phrases in Persian. Instead, Alastair was very still for very long. When he did speak, the words weren't the James expected them to be. "I knew the marriage wasn't out of love," Alastair said calmly. "But I didn't expect you to tell all that rubbish."

James blinked. "It's the truth."

"Oh, I know," Alastair returned with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I doubt you would come up with such a ludicrous idea on your own, even if just to spite me. and I also know Cordelia wouldn't have slept with you unwedded, no matter how much she loved you."

All the thieves caught their breath when Alastair leaned forward, his month curving in an odd angle. "I also know being married to you was a wish she never thought would come true, and that you cared for her. You claimed her as yours and you defended her. It was good for Cordelia, and so I said nothing."

James snorted, although he hadn't found the conversation funny. Not the least. "I thought I loved Grace at that time. I felt bad when the thought of living with Cordelia was more appealing than I expected." The thought of Grace made his features harden. "And because of Grace, for years I've been blind. Manipulated. I lost my wife and Parabatai. She played with me like a doll; messed with my feelings, messed with my life. This is unforgivable."

He did not notice Christopher who tensed up and fixed his spectacles on his nose. "She did some bad things," he said, surprising them all. "But I don't think she's evil."

James furrowed his brow. "She's like a siren: beautiful and compelling, but going after her will only end in you being drowned."

"I see," Alastair said, turning back to James. "But why? Why did she do it?"

"Does it matter?" James asked. "She hurt so many people. She doesn't even deserve to apologize. It won't matter anyhow - the damage is done. After all she has done...sorry will never be enough. Nothing will."

"It matters," Alastair said. "Because you don't know her side of the tale. You don't know what she thinks. What she feels. You don't know if she had to do what she did."

He was tempted to say Grace has no feelings at all. "I believe I'm allowed to be angry."

"I do agree that what she had done to you is far above a jest or a play with hearts," there was a strange flame burning in the deep ponds of Alastair's dark eyes. "And you have no obligation to forgive her. But why not hear what she has to say? You are the one with the power. You know the truth. She can not affect you any longer."

James shook his head. "You don't know Grace," he said coldly, gravely. "She will try to use me. She will try and make me do as she wishes. I will not be a pawn in her game again. She controlled my life long enough."

Alastair glanced away, pondering over something. Thomas turned his head nervously between James and Alastair. For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Thomas inquired, "Why do you insist James will hear her out?"

"You have no idea of her motives," Alastair retorted. "What she's done - she must know it's wrong. And she will have to live with this knowledge for the rest of her days. You are allowed to be angry, James, and rightfully so. But don't let it blind you. That you have been kept from certain kinds of evil doesn't mean everyone else had. You have no clue what led her to those decisions." Alastair looked distanced. James managed to guess he's not been talking only about Grace. "You should talk to her. You may not forgive her, but you deserve to understand, to know why to hear the plain truth. And you should let her mourn what she could have had and lost."

James wasn't sure he fully comprehended. "I wouldn't have loved her. Even without the bracelet issue - my heart belongs to Cordelia."

"What do you mean?" Christopher asked. "That not everyone had been kept from evil."

Alastair shrugged. "I met Tatiana Blackthorn only once. She's a madwoman. She doesn't seem like the kind of caring, kind mother to pet her daughter's shoulder. Besides, Grace seemed to be controlled by Tatiana, rather than working alone or alongside her."

"She took the love of my life away from me," James growled. "Nothing can atone for that."

"The love of your life is my sister," he reminded James. "I can hardly find the idea of her being heartbroken a good thing. And the one who caused this pain is not much liked, as well. But you shouldn't think that just because you would've done it otherwise, it was an option for her. You can't know what are the options in front of people. You can't know how they feel unless you talk to them. So talk to Grace, James. Then seek out my sister. If you love her like you claim you do, will you give up on her so easily?"

"No," James stood up, "I will not."

Alastair nodded. "why did you come and tell me about your little schemes? Why now?"

Now, after so much time of lying, why tell the truth? Why not keep it in its cage of delicately made lies?

James cut his gaze to the book on the table. Thomas answered instead in a quiet voice. "She is your sister. You must have been worried about her. We wanted to tell you because - because you deserve to know the truth and understand why things happened the way they did."

What Thomas did not say was what none of them wanted to admit. Cordelia ran away to Paris with Matthew. Even if she'll be back in only two weeks - they all were worried sick. James couldn't blame her, he was awful and blind. All of this was a mess. If she needed time to calm down in Paris, he couldn't deny it of her, even if he had a say in this choice.

Alastair studied Thomas, and James felt the half-Persian hadn't quite believed them. It was true - they needed his help in the future. But it was a start. "Anything else? A ghost friend? Another evil aunt?"

"No," Christopher affirmed.

"Good," Alastair said. James might have imagined it but he thought he saw Alastair sneak a glance at Thomas before standing up. "Now get out of my house. Risa will be here any minute."

~~~~

I- how?? Thank you so much, everyone!! 🙈 Thank you, you can't understand how much it means to me. 🥺

This is mind-blowing. Truly. For whatever reason you follow me, know that I love you <3

Tagging some of my mutuals, you are all wonderful and make my time here so much better (not all of them because my brain is all wonky, but I mean all of you): @kit-12 @littlx-songbxrd @pink-party-dino @shadowhuntertrash @gummybears-4u @itsdaughterofthemoon @mcrrythievcs @fictionally-fantastic @reyna-herondale I'll tag more but I don't want to bother anyone so... thank you!! I don't know what people find in my blog, but I am grateful, and I appreciate all of you endlessly.

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hollandbaby · 5 years ago

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roommates - t.h smut

a/n: um so i haven’t written in a long time pls be kind. this is just a 4.9k one shot based on how i’m feeling, sexually frustrated, but unfortunately I’m not in lockdown with tom so cannot have sex with him. also I’m tipsy. AND feedback is much appreciated

warnings; smut, oral (f receiving), daddy kink, choking, biting, scratching, super long intro

You had lived with your lifetime best friend, Tom, for just over a year now, alongside his best friends Harrison and Tuwaine and his younger brother Harry. There was never a dull moment in the house, even when Tom’s away filming the other boys provide just as much entertainment. You’re used to spending lots of time with the boys, but when it’s announced lockdown was in place, it took a toll on everyone. Tom is unable to work which is a benefit considering he’s allowed to actually rest finally, plus he’s around a lot more which is nice. Harrison is always practicing his juggling which is entertaining until he breaks your favourite lamp. Tuwaine and Harry tends to keep to themselves, mostly playing video games or working from home. But boy was the house becoming messy.

“Alright, who’s underwear are these and why are they on the living room floor!?” You shout to the house, picking up the pants by the broom you had in your hand.

“Whadda they look like?” Shouts Harry, most likely on his laptop editing something.

“Grey Calvin’s but I know all of you own at least one pair so it’s not very helpful!”

You move to put them in the laundry basket by the washing machine, carrying on with your cleaning by sweeping the kitchen floor. Tom emerges from the bathroom, in just a pair of grey sweats and a towel wrapped around his neck, you try not to let yourself get distracted but it’s hard when you can see a single drop of water make its way down his toned, bronzed torso.

“Sorry, love, I think they may be mine,” he chuckles as he goes to fill the kettle for a cup of tea. He leans against the kitchen island, drying off his hair with his towel.

“What the fuck are they doing in the communal living room?” You ask, laughing as well. Living with boys may be hard sometimes due to the mess and the fact they’re all super dumb, but it’s so endearing and you have good times.

“I dunno, I probably threw them at one of the boys as a joke.” Tom giggles to himself but you roll your eyes.

“Well next time you throw your dirty laundry at someone pick it up after, doofus.” You chuckle, walking past Tom to head to your room for your wash bag before going for a shower. You turn the shower on and start to undress. You found yourself thinking about Tom, and the way he looked after his shower earlier, his wet curly hair all floppy and cute, water droplets falling onto his broad chest and toned abs. You’d never really thought about him sexually before, obviously he’s an attractive man and you’ve been close friends with him since you were kids, he knows you better than anyone, but you’d never realised just how hot he is. Maybe it was because you hadn’t had sex in over a month due to lockdown or maybe it’s because you’ve been able to spend more time with Tom recently, but there’s a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach that stretches all the way down to your core. You bite your lip, stepping under the hot water, steam filling the bathroom as you try to wash away your sins.

You’re cooking dinner for everyone, Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine playing some game in the living room and Tom is just watching, laughing along with them. Tom looks over the sofa to you, watching your movements for a second before getting up off the sofa and walking to the kitchen.

“Need any help, darlin’?” He asks, as you chop up some vegetables.

“You can chop up some onions with me?” You smile at him, and he gets a feeling in the pit of his stomach. You both continue chopping and cooking the meal, Tom drinking beer and you wine as you both dance around the kitchen and giggle and sing with each other. You call the boys into the dining area, serving up dinner and grabbing drinks for all the boys. As you turn from the fridge to place the beers on the counter, Tom is already stood behind you, making you jump. He grabs your waist to steady you, and you’re grateful you didn’t drop any of the bottles.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckles as your face heats up, a mixture of the fact Tom’s warm hands are still on your waist and you just had a close call to a very messy and classy clean up.

“S’okay, I’m just glad I didn’t drop any of these! The boys would kill me,” you pop open all the bottles, attempting to grab them along with your bottle of wine AND glass.

“Woah there, darling, I’ll grab those for you,” Tom takes three of the bottles from you, letting out a breathy laugh at your disgruntled facial expression, your bottom lip slightly jutted out and hair falling in your face.

“Thank you,” you smile and pick up your wine and glass, following Tom’s lead back to the table.

The boys are all chatting away, dishing up their dinners as you and Tom place their beers down in front of them.

“Thank you so much for cooking, Y/N, we’ll wash up.” Harrison says, smiling at you.

“Will we?” Tuwaine chimes in, looking confused.

“Bro shut up.” Harry says, you roll your eyes but you’re laughing alongside them.

“Well maybe after dinner, and after Haz, Harry and Tuwaine wash up, we can do something together?” You suggest, sipping your wine before munching some more.

“Sounds good. What did you have in mind?” Asks Tom, eager to spend some time with you.

“Well we could all play some card games or a board game?”

And that’s how you end up drunkenly giggling at 1AM over monopoly.

“How the fuck did I get go to jail again?!”

“Unlucky Baz man, looks like you’re in jail again,” you giggle, moving his figurine to the jail space.

“How are you doing so well at this game Y/N? It’s like you’re the monopoly mastermind,” Harrison asks, slurring the M’s slightly.

“I dunno man I used to play a lot with my family, plus it’s a game of chance.”

“Well it’s a fucking stupid game of chance,” Harry chimes in, pouting at the fact he has to miss a go.

“Shut up, dickhead, you love this game,” Tom grabs Harry by his shoulders and puts him in a headlock, ruffling his hair.

“Tom!” Harry exclaims, thrashing around. He kicks the board, knocking all the houses and hotels and cards everywhere.

“Harry!” shouts Harrison, clearly angry at the fact he’s lost his place and cannot for the life of him remember where it was.

“Oh my god you’re all idiots,” you laugh, Tuwaine exclaiming a “hey don’t put me in that category with them!”

You finish the last gulp of your wine before attempting to stand up to grab another bottle. You steady yourself on Tom’s shoulder before heading over to the fridge. You can feel his eyes on you as you pour yourself some more wine, but he quickly looks away when you turn back around. The lads are all laughing together on the floor, sipping beers and being stupid.

“What’re you all laughing at?” You ask, smiling, as you go to join them on the floor, Tom’s hand gently grabbing yours to help you sit.

“Harry’s suggesting we play never have I ever,” Tuwaine laughs.

“It wasn’t just me! Harrison suggested it I just said sure why not!”

“God you’re all a bunch of kids. Alright, are we playing or not?” You ask, getting confident from the booze.

“I know I suggested it but the room is spinning so much right now I think I’m gonna throw up,” Harrison states, hiccuping.

“Wow, good one genius. Alright, let’s get you to bed. Night all,” Tuwaine gets up, picking Haz up in the process and wrapping his arm around his waist, guiding Harrison to his room before making his way to his own.

“Aaaand I’d rather go to bed than stay up for whatever weird shit is gonna happen between you two,” Harry says standing up and chugging the rest of his beer, “peace out.”

“And then there were two,” Tom chuckles, starting to pack away the long forgotten monopoly board. You help him, placing pieces in their respective compartments and giggling with each other.

“So how about that game of never have I ever?” You ask biting your lip. You look at Tom to find he’s already looking at you, cheeks flushed and a curl falling into his face.

“Sure,” he chuckles breathily, “I’ll just grab another beer.” You smile to yourself as you watch Tom walk to the kitchen, biting your lower lip as you realise you shouldn’t be staring at his ass as he walks away. Tom returns to the living room, you’ve moved onto the sofa now, put some music on and your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. He plops down on the sofa next to you and smiles, taking a swig of his beer.

“Alright. Never have I ever pissed my pants from laughing,” Tom chuckles to himself as you slap his chest.

“That was ONE time and it was a TINY amount!” You huff, taking a swig of your drink. You smirk as you pull your legs up onto the sofa, turning to face Tom. “Never have I ever tried to impress a girl by doing a backflip but it ending up awfully badly and I broke my wrist.”

“For fucks sake,” Tom throws his head back and groans, taking a swig of his drink. “She still went on a date with me though, I assume out of pity. Okay, ummm, never have I ever had sex in a park.” He’s smirking this time, knowing full well you definitely had.

“I was 16 and fucking stupid. Guy was a douche anyway. Okay never have I ever, been walked in on.” You laugh at this one. Harrison loved telling the story of the time he walked in on Tom and some girl he’d brought home from a bar.

“For fucks sake, I wish everyone would stop bringing that one up.” He drinks, keeping eye contact with you. “Never have I ever had sex with a roommate,” he licks his lips, watching as you take another sip of your wine. “How’s that even happen?”

“You know the story, Tom, I had to move out because of how awkward it got.” You frown at him, these never have i evers we’re getting too real. “Okay, never have I ever had phone sex.” You watch Tom roll his eyes and take a swig of his beer.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never had phone sex?”

“No, what’s the point when I could just have sex with someone?”

“What if you’re far away from someone you’re dating and can’t go see them? I was working on set you know.”

“I know that! These are to try and get you drunk Mr Holland that’s the aim of the game,” you smile at him, “your turn.”

“Never have I ever,” he trails off, lips pursing as he thinks of one to say, “never have I ever had a threesome.”

You pause for a second, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting wondering if he knew you’d had a threesome before or if he was just curious. Either way, you take a sip of your drink.

“Now, this I’ve got to hear,” Tom’s smirking, an eyebrow raised as he waits for the story.

“I thought you knew! Oh, god. So it was my first year of uni, I was fresh out of a bad relationship, exploring my options etc you know. I start having sex with this guy regularly, just causal stuff no feelings involved. One day he comes round, then this girl calls him and he asks if she can come for drinks too. Obviously I say yes because I’m already tipsy and open to anything. She comes round, we end up drinking 3 bottles of wine each and it just, happened.” You look to Tom, after taking a sip of your wine, your cheeks flushed but it’s nothing compared to the look of shock on Tom’s face. He’s aroused at the idea but he won’t let you know that. His mouth is agape, then he licks his lips and smirks.

“Wow who knew you were crazy like that?”

You slap his chest, “shut up! I bet you’ve been up to some crazy stuff. I’m surprised you’ve not had a threesome yet.”

“I’m not the type of man to share, darling.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Besides, it was a foursome.”

“Ahhh and there it is.” You roll your eyes and smile, finishing off your drink. “Be a darling and grab my bottle from the fridge please, Tommy?” He tuts at your demand, nevertheless standing and going to grab your bottle. He grabs himself another beer too. You smile and thank him as he fills your glass, putting the bottle on the floor in case you need a refill. “I miss sex. That’s the worst part about all this shit.”

“Oh, totally agree. Stupid lockdown.” Tom sighs, sitting back down on the sofa next to you. You place your glass on the coffee table, turning to face Tom fully, resting your arm on the back of the sofa.

“What if we had sex?”

Tom spits his drink out, coughing and spluttering, getting his spat beer all over his white t shirt. “Shit. Um, what?”

“C’mon, we’re both adults with needs, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just a one time thing, a favour, to release all the sexual frustrations we’re both clearly experiencing since we don’t have dick or pussy on tap at the moment.” You pick your wine back up, taking a long swig before continuing. “I could just give you a blowie and we can go our separate ways.”

“Y/N, we live together. You said last time you did something like this it didn’t end well.”

“That was only a bad idea with my past roommate because he became obsessed with me after. Tom, we don’t have to do it it was just a suggestion.” You don’t know if it’s because the alcohol has given you a load of confidence or if it’s because you’ve not had sex in a long time but what you do know is that Tom is very attractive, especially when he runs his hand through his floppy curls, his white shirt tightening around his bicep. You lick your lips as your eyes rake up and down his body. You meet his brown eyes, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

“Conditions?”

“We can do whatever you want. My only condition is, we need a safe word. Actually, that and we probably shouldn’t tell the others what happened.”

“Agreed. Safe word can be pineapple.”

“Pineapple?” You laugh, leaning closer to Tom. You can smell his cologne, and it’s absolutely divine.

“I dunno. It was the first thing that came to mind.” He leans closer into you as well. “What’re you into?” His eyes flick to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“Hair pulling, biting, scratching, choking, spanking, call me babygirl or a good girl and I’m a goner. You?”

“Same, but call me Tommy or baby. Maybe daddy as well, depends how rough we’re going I guess.”

You put your glass back on the coffee table after finishing your wine, moving to straddle Tom’s lap. “Okay, Tommy, looks like we’re doing this.” You move in, testing the waters, eyes flickering between Tom’s and his lips. You can already feel the heat in your core and the wetness in your panties, your thin shorts barely protecting you from the feeling of Tom’s arousal in his grey sweats. He caves first, crashing his lips against yours and moving them oh so deliciously against your own. Your eyes instantly shut, your hands combing through his hair before gripping onto his brunette curls. Tom lets his empty bottle drop onto the sofa, long forgotten as his own hands move to your hips. His tongue experiments by licking your top lip, asking for entrance which you more than gladly grant him. Your tongue dances against his, your hips subconsciously grinding against his already hard cock. You let out a rough, breathy moan into his mouth, Tom’s hands moving to your ass, feeling the skin that your shorts don’t cover. He pulls back, panting and lips glossy and red.

“Your room or mine?”

“Whichever’s closest.” You kiss him again, letting out a slightly startled noise as he stands, picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, hands gripping onto his shoulders whilst his are gripping your ass. You peck his lips, kissing down his neck as he walks you to his room. It’s closest to the living room and nearest to the bathroom so it’s a win win for you. You open Tom’s door for him, he almost drops you when you do but luckily you grip back onto him, accidentally scratching his back. Tom lets out a hiss, but it’s not with pain, more so pleasure at the feeling of your nails digging into him. It makes him wonder how amazing your nails will feel scratching down his back while he’s fucking into you. He throws you on his bed, and you briefly note how clean and tidy his room is considering he’s so chaotic. Tom removes his (slightly damp with beer) shirt and is on top of you in an instant, his lips meeting yours again in a messy kiss, teeth and tongue in the mix. You wrap your legs around his waist, his hips grinding down into your own as your hands rake through his hair, tugging on tufts as you sloppily kiss. He pulls away, his lips moving down to your neck and nipping and sucking there. You let out a moan, your eyes rolling back as Tom’s mouth works wonders on you. Your hips buck up into his and his hand moves from the bed to your body, trailing down your neck and chest to the hem of your vest top, tugging on it as a signal for you to take it off. You listen, moving your arms down to the hem to rip your top off, Tom instantly moving down your body, his lips kissing your chest before his hand moves round to your back and unclasps your bra. He pulls it off you, his mouth making its way to your nipple as his eyes look up into yours. You scrunch your eyebrows in pleasure, biting your bottom lip as you moan lowly. You don’t even notice Tom’s hand trailing down your body until it reaches your clothed pussy, your hips instantly jerking up to meet his hand. A mixture of Tom’s tongue on your nipple and his fingers rubbing your clit through your shorts is giving you a feeling you’ve not felt in a while. Yes you’ve been getting yourself off but there’s something so different about someone else’s touch that feels so fucking amazing.

“Do you know how fucking hot you look in these shorts, baby? I’ve wanted to rip them off you all evening.” Tom moans out, he can feel your wetness through the material.

“Do it, then.” You smirk, but your breath is hoarse and raspy. You let out a gasp as Tom practically rips your shorts from your body, along with your underwear. He wastes no time moving down your body, lips leaving a wet trail of kisses on your scorching skin. Hiking your legs up so your feet are flat on the bed, he kisses your hips, then down your left thigh, as your hands make their way to his hair. Tom looks up into your eyes as he licks closer and closer to your wet pussy, his mouth hovering over you, causing you to grind your hips up in an attempt to meet his tongue. He finally ends the torturous teasing, gently licking his tongue through your folds and to your clit, you throw your head back and let out a soft ‘oh, fuck’. Tom’s fingers make their way up your body, gently teasing your nipple as his tongue massages your clit, your hips meeting his movements as you let out small, breathy moans.

“Fuck, Tom, fingers please,” your voice is broken and still raspy, but Tom makes eye contact with you again and the moan you let out is much louder than before. You throw your head back again, writhing against him.

“What do want, baby girl? Hm? Want my fingers inside you?” His breath is cool against your warm skin, his eyes searching for yours.

“Yes!” You attempt to buck your hips up again but Tom’s hands hold them in place.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please, daddy!” Your voice is broken and your attempt to keep quiet is ineffective. Tom moves his right hand from your hip, his tongue returning back to your clit as he slowly pumps a finger into you, curling it up to reach your g spot. He has you writhing beneath him, adding another fingers stretching you out as his tongue laps at your clit, your hands grip his hair as you grind against his mouth, breathy moans escaping your lips. You bite your lip as your eyes roll to the back of your head, you figured Tom would be good in bed but, god, he was so much better than you expected.

“I’m close, Tommy,” he all but growls into your pussy at the nickname, fingers picking up speed as he sucks on your clit gently. One of your hands flies up to your face, biting down on your arm to stop yourself from letting out an extremely loud moan as you cum. Tom slows his movements, helping you ride out your high. He removes his fingers from you, looking into your eyes as he licks them clean. You bite your lip and let out a soft groan at the sight of him, pulling him up to you so you can kiss his lips, allowing your tongue to massage his. You can taste yourself on him, only making you moan into his mouth as you kiss. You pull on his sweats, pushing them down his thighs along w his boxers. Tom pulls them the rest of the way off and you roll onto him, pinning him to the bed with your thighs. Your lips never leaving his in a sloppy, wet, tipsy kiss. You’re overwhelmed by his senses, his hot skin, his sexy scent, his soft curls and the way his teeth occasionally nibble on your bottom lip. You start grinding your hips against Tom’s hard cock, his hands flying to your hips as you do so.

“You’re so fucking wet for me aren’t you, baby girl?” Tom growls against your lips, feeling your wetness on his skin.

You moan against his lips, nodding your head, “do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, bedside table, 2nd drawer down.” You reach over him to the nightstand, retrieving a condom, opening it with your teeth before rolling it onto Tom’s cock. Tom lets out a hiss at the contact, throwing his head back and panting as your hand moves up and down him, before you lift up and slide down onto his cock. His hands instantly grab onto your ass, nails digging into the skin as you find a pace, adjusting to his size. He was bigger than you were expecting but, fuck, did it feel good. You pick up the pace, hips moving up and down as Tom’s hand moves from your ass cheek to your clit, using his middle finger to circle the bundle of nerves. He’s grunting with each move you make, and your head falls back as you continue riding him. He moves his other hand off your ass and brings it back down in a harsh slap, your skin jiggling and a sharp moan escaping your lips. He smirks up at you, your body dropping forward, hands moving to rest by his head as you keep the movements of your hips. He slaps your ass again, massaging the red skin there as you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You reach your right hand to around his throat, gently squeezing. Something snaps in Tom at that, planting his feet on the bed to get leverage to thrust up into you, fucking you from underneath, he grabs a handful of your hair and fastens the pace of his fingers on your clit.

“Fuck, Tommy!” You moan, trying to keep quiet but it’s hard when he’s fucking you so good, the arch in your back allowing him to go deeper, creating a delicious feeling. “I want you to fuck me from behind.” You’re panting and your voice is quiet but Tom hears you loud and clear.

“Fuck, love, you’re so hot,” he pulls out, rolling you over onto your front, your arms reaching in front of you, chest on the bed as your knees widen and your ass is in the air, Tom slaps your ass as he moves behind you, sliding his hard cock between your fold and collecting your wetness before he thrusts back into you.

“Shit, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Another slap on your ass as he fucks into you, hands grabbing your hips for leverage.

“Yes, baby, keep fucking me like that!” You moan into the sheets. Tom reaches forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your back up against his torso, fucking up into you. His hand slides around to grip your throat as he continues fucking you, his lips leaving sloppy kisses on your neck and cheek. He nibbles on your ear lightly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. Tom’s other hand snakes it’s way around your waist down your body, his middle fingers circling your clit. Your head is resting on his shoulder, your hand coming round to pull on his hair as he continues fucking you, Tom’s grunts and groans right in your ear as his lips caress the skin there.

“So fuckin tight, baby, jesus,” Tom’s breath is hot on your neck leaving goosebumps all over your body as you moan at his words. “I want you to cum for me baby, can you do that?”

“Yes, Tommy, I’m so close,” you groan, but Tom pulls away completely. You’re shocked and disgruntled before you realise he’s throwing you on your back, spreading your thighs and thrusting back into you. You grab his shoulders, nails digging in as Tom fucks you, harder than before. Your moans are muffled by the skin of his shoulder, you bite down on his skin, sucking, most likely leaving a mark but you don’t care, too consumed with the fire in your stomach as your orgasm approaches.

“Rub my clit, please,” you breathe out, one of Tom’s hands moving from your thigh to between your legs, resuming his movements on your clit from before. He fucks you in a rhythm, your nails scratching down his back as he does so, Tom’s hair is falling in his face and tickling yours but you don’t care, he looks so hot like this, sweaty and panting above you. Your toes curl and your pussy clenches around him, his cock pounding into you, and it’s like nothing you’ve felt before.

“I’m gonna cum, Tommy!” You throw your head back, letting out a moan as Tom’s fingers rub your clit faster and he fucks you harder, his lips crashing against yours as you reach your high. Tom follows shortly after, sloppily thrusting into you as he cums in the condom. Tom collapses on top of you, your breathing steadying as you play with his hair. After a minute, he pulls out and discards of the condom, flopping onto the bed beside you, opening his arm to you so you can roll into his side.

“Well, that was ... wow,” you sigh contentedly. Your breathing is starting to slow down and a wave of exhaustion hits you. You rest your head on Tom’s bare chest, one of his fingers curling a piece of your hair around it.

“Oh, god yeah it was, something else.” He chuckles, pressing a light peck to your forehead.

“I should probably go to the bathroom then back to my room.” You sigh, you don’t want to move though. You’re absorbing Tom’s warmth and it feels so good. You roll off of his chest, pulling his t shirt from off the floor and sliding it on. Tom sits up as you go to collect your things, “you could stay in here tonight? I mean, sex isn’t the only thing I miss.” His face is flush and he smiles sheepishly at you. You smile back and bite your lip, leaning back onto the bed to peck his nose before heading off to the bathroom. Tom thinks you’ve gone to bed, sighing in defeat and flopping back against his sheets. You go to clean up, making your way back to Tom’s room but not before grabbing another 2 bottles of beer first. You return to his room, smiling as you hand him a bottle. He laughs at you as he opens his beer, taking a sip before opening his arms to you, inviting you to sit with him on his bed. He’s got his boxers back on, duvet loosely wrapped around his hips, shifting while he moves. You sit back on the bed with him, taking a sip of your own beer. You both laugh and chat until you finish your drinks, lying down again and falling sleep curled up in Tom’s arms, his hand gently massaging your scalp as he places occasional pecks on your forehead. You realise that maybe this won’t be the last time as you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #also this isnt proofread lol #daddy!tom is a ducking loos tho

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daddy-chiluc · 3 years ago

Text

No Future (unedited)

Tw: Breakup, depression

Vent fic

——

What was he to expect? He knew from the start it’d fall apart. Crumble and wilt away, not giving them nearly enough time to bask in each other’s love and warmth. No...there would never be enough time. It was all just faded memories, moments once filled with an untamed happiness turning sour in his mouth, his throat soar as the screams he wanted to let out where trapped. He was trapped. Trapped in his own mind as a pile of regret sat along his once confident shoulders. His burning eyes becoming dark, desperate to hide whatever painful memory had come to mind.

They were fresh. New. The moment he found out he was a Harbinger though it was too late. He was already so deeply in love it filled his lungs, drowning him, grasping at his heart strings and violently pulling him down deeper and deeper. He shouldn’t have said anything. He shouldn’t have asked him to be his partner that night. Maybe they were just high off of Valentines day. High off of the floating, elated feeling of finally being loved by someone. Trusted by someone. Just reminiscing was enough to make his eyes burn. He didn’t want to remember. He never wanted to remember...but it felt like he didn’t have a choice.

They flooded him, swallowing him whole as he gasped for whatever remaining air was left. He felt weak. He should have done more. Why didn’t he do more? Childe could be suffering even more now. Suffering without his aid. This idea alone was enough to cause many sleepless nights filled with anxiety. The suffocating feeling of loneliness returning to its perch overhead. They never had enough time.

His memories were vivid. Vivid and gut wrenching. It made his fingers twitch and his work take up his desk space. He couldn’t distract himself anymore...at least not for awhile. No matter what he did or where he went, there’s was always that faint memory of him haunting him. Even on his darkest evenings, he’d go to his closet and grab the maroon shirt that hung idly behind. Burying his nose into the soft fabric his ex lover left behind, tears staining the dark fabric as his scent overwhelmed him, a broken sob breaking his throat.

He should have done more.

A sad smile caressed his features as his grip tightened on the forgotten shirt. He laughed coldly as he remembered his first kiss. Hidden in the restroom of the tavern as Childe looked at him so fondly. A look of pure adoration and love — the look he gave him burned into his memory as he remembered the Harbinger gently rubbing his thumb along his cheek while he held him so closely, the silent fear of letting him go dancing quietly behind his façade. A fear Diluc didn’t notice. A fear Diluc chose not to notice...because he himself feared the same thing.

He remembered the soft kisses they had, they were long and amateur, his heart fluttering like a teenager. He shouldn’t have been so elated. He should have ended it while it was still fresh...but this thought hadn’t come to mind at the time, far too enamored in Tartaglia’s love. His love blinded him.

His body tremors as recalled their first, and last date. The way they held hands. That’s when he got the maroon shirt. It was a birthday gift. That and many other items. But that was something he held onto dearly. Far too scared to let it go, terrified that he’d forget him. Forget what they had. Perhaps a part of him didn’t want to let it go. He wasn’t ready too.

He tried to recall their moments together. He remembered the day he was horribly sick. He wore his shirt all day, a heavy, nauseating feeling settling in his throat. He returned to the winery, Adeline aiding him as his workers took care of his work for the day. Childe had written him letters that day while he was out at Liyue, too far from Diluc’s reach. He had sent over music for Diluc to listen too, aiding him in finding sleep before he woke up heaving over a toilet.

After that it felt like things started to go downhill. Diluc sending and receiving letters everyday. Good mornings, afternoons and nights. He was so deeply in love with the harbinger that it became reckless. He listened to his stories. Storied of home and pets...stories of himself. How he had dated another male before the Fatui found out. That should have ended it right there...but he was so determined to make them understand.

Six months. Six months was all he needed. An absurd amount of time that was never achieved. The rest of his memories were blurry, his mind swarmed with that day. He had written and sent several letters to Ajax that day...but it wouldn’t subdue that uneasy feeling that filled the pit of his stomach.

The anxiety he felt that day. All he wanted was for him to be okay. To be alright. He didn’t care if he didn’t love him anymore. All he wanted was for him to be safe. Hours ticked by as he checked in with Adeline over and over, asking about any letters from Ajax and always getting the same answer. No sir.

Every time those words left her lips his heart would ache. Where was Ajax? He negotiated with himself, trying to come up with some logical situation. Perhaps he was just on a mission, or, maybe, Ajax had finally gotten tired of him. Diluc started to shut down. Becoming cold in his words and actions as he worked and worked, anything to push away whatever thought haunted him in the back of his mind.

When Adeline rushed to him with a letter however...and overwhelming sense of relief washed over him, perhaps a little too quickly. When he opened the black envelope, he quickly noticed it was from the Tsarista. He read through it over and over.

Ajax had ran from the Fatui? He was safe but...this woman could have very much so seen every “I love you” that Diluc and Ajax exchanged. Every intimate moment and their private love story was out on display for all of Snezhnaya to see. The red head’s body was numb. This was it. This is where it was to end. Only lasting for three, almost four months. It became apparent to Diluc now. It didn’t matter how long they waited...Ajax would never be able to be with Diluc. It was too dangerous.

Diluc had watched the fire mindlessly, asking Adeline go put any letter from Snezhnaya aside until morning. Even amongst the fire, the book that sat heavy in his palms wasn’t enough to distract him. It would never be enough. He couldn’t feel his heartbeat or focus on the task he had given himself. It was so short lived Diluc couldn’t do anything. He felt helpless.

He wasn’t sure when, but soon enough Lisa, Jean and Kaeya had silently made their way into his winery. They saw the winemaker sitting absentmindedly in the seat wearing a deep maroon shirt as he seemed almost lost in the flames performance. They were silent, the pain Diluc felt seeping just under they’re skin. The Uncrowned King of Mondstadt was happy with the Harbinger. Genuinely happy. He smiled and laughed more when he was with him, far too affectionate for a single person to even recognize that it was in fact Diluc with that Harbinger.

It was late now, midnight, and Diluc had disappeared to do his nightly routines. Lisa, the kindhearted woman she was, searched for him only to hear broken sobs from his bathroom as he sung a Snezhnayan tune through his cries. Deciding to let him have his space, Lisa notified Jean and Kaeya, a look of dismay dancing wearily along their features.

Too engorged in the agony the night had brung, they fell victim to sleep while Diluc grasped at the cold empty spot in his sheets. Where Ajax once laid as he quietly played the tune in his room, silently crying himself to sleep, slipping in and out of what was once peaceful to what was now a pained filled memory.

By morning, Diluc was too scared to leave the comfort of his linens. Too scared that if he left, what was left of Ajax would disappear too quickly. He wasn’t ready to let him go. He wanted to see the world with him. To move far away and own pets together, calling them their children and creating their own family out in the middle of nowhere...but now it was all just a dream too out of reach for Diluc to hold on.

Carefully, Kaeya walked in and held Diluc as he broke down in his arms. He had dealt with this woman that had intentions of hurting Diluc. He had read every note this woman had dare sent to the winery and disposed of them, a brutal back and forth of letters that should have taken days but it all happened within an hour. Diluc wouldn’t leave the bed. He would never have a happy ending...he couldn’t. The archons wouldn’t allow him to have a happy ever after.

Hours ticked by as he hugged Childe’s pillow, resting in his spot on the bed as he stared out the window. There was never enough time. He laughed bitterly at himself, Jean had even warned him this would happen and he made no effort to listen. No effort to put a stop to whatever forbidden love story he had hoped to achieve. Here he was now, lying pathetically in his bed because of this impossible love story.

Night had fallen once more and he had never been happier to get a letter from Ajax. He read it over and over. The Harbingers didn’t care for their little escapade...the Tsarista, however, would take “time” he said. Time. Something unknown to Diluc. There was no such thing as time. He knew if he stayed Ajax would only get hurt. He already suffers so much, Diluc didn’t want to add to that list if it wasn’t necessary.

And so...he wrote his, hopefully, final letter. He told Childe that he believed in him from the start, encouraging him to chase his dreams and to be himself even if others said not to. At that, he wished him the best of luck as he sent the letter, signing it and crying on his front porch.

They didn’t have a happy every after. What they had was no future at all. Their moments trapped behind an hourglass that would flop over and over in their minds. That’s all it was.

No future.

—

I’m sorry if it’s messy and a little ooc. I needed to vent pretty badly and Chiluc is my comfort ship and this situation that I went through is kind of the reason why I ship them at all.

Ah, the art of forbidden love.

#ajax #childe #chiluc #diluc #ragnvindr #romance #diluc ragnvindr #gay #hydro and pyro #angst #breakup #depression #trigger warning #forbidden love #rarepairs #red and blue #water and fire #genshin impact

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unnamedelement · 4 years ago

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You Carry Them in Your Heart: Ficlet for Diverse Tolkien Week

I wrote this little snippet this morning in honor of @diversetolkien‘s Diverse Tolkien Week, using the prompts “Women of Color,” “Culture,” and “Anti-racism.” It is inspired by a number of blatant headcanons (and some canon-based meta, imho), and the versions of Legolas and Mirkwood that exist in my own work.

Further, it is inspired by my own relationship with my messy and ethnically-complex family history. While I will never know what it is to not be white in this world, I do know what it is for whiteness and for imperialism to steal the truth from you. I do know how badly it hurts to never be able to reach those parts of you whose stories were erased; how it hurts to know that your family’s language was beaten out of them; how it hurts to know that someone somewhere in the past started shaming children for their questions and teaching them lies about their brown skin. I know how it feels to have nameless grandmothers, to have ancestors whose stories were lost to time and shame and trauma, to the endless march of the victor’s narrative.

So, all that is where this little ficlet is coming from. My own family shit, but also Mirkwood and its arguably colonial positioning, plus all my own very gratuitous worldbuilding and headcanons.

You Carry Them in Your Heart

It was midafternoon and the sun shone weakly overhead, and Legolas and his mother were traveling with a small group of elves. It was cold but not too cold, but Legolas was young, and his mother had buttoned him into the fisherman’s sweater gifted him by the Lakemen before they set out that morning.

“Mother,” he asked quietly, and he curled his fingers into his mother’s shawl from where he rode behind, pickaback, and he listened vaguely to the murmurs and melodies of the elves around him. “Why are the Men of the Lake pale like moonlight?”

It was the first time his mother had taken him with her on her trade trips to negotiate with the men around Mirkwood, and he had had many questions.

“Your father is pale like moonlight, emlineg,” his mother responded, hitching him up slightly so his face was pressed momentarily into her curls.

“He is not,” Legolas said, shaking his head firmly. “He is pale like sunlight.”

“Your friend Ithildim is pale like moonlight,” his mother answered smoothly.

“Hm,” he said quietly, and he laid his head on her back, raised a hand to stifle a yawn, for they had been up since long before sunrise. “Ithildim is pale like moonlight...”

There was quiet for a time and Legolas watched those traveling around him. They walked up the River and back toward the wood, and his home was a dark mound on the horizon. The elves around him, however, were not all pale like moonlight. They were some of them the moon, yes, but they were also autumn trees under sun, were hazelnut and chestnut, every shade of the endless wood.

He spoke again: “The Lake is to the east of our home, Mother?”

“It is, child.”

“Saida said the men of the West are different than those of the Long Lake.”

His mother laughed lightly, and Legolas gripped her tighter. “And how would Saida know anything about the men of the Western Woods?”

“Her brother has told her,” Legolas said eagerly. “For he is a captain and has seen many things! He says the people to the West run the plain outside our woods, and they worship the North Sun.”

“And so do you, emlineg,” his mother countered. “The Sun brings us warmth after long winters, does it not?”

Legolas reached a hand out into the air around them and the wind played between his fingers.

“But she says those Men are not pale like moonlight, Mother. They are like loam beneath leaf mould after winter.”

“Like you, then?” his mother asked wryly.

Legolas shook his head behind her.

“Like me?” she tried again.

He shook his head once more. “You are too dark, and I am too light. And they are cool, like clay under silt.”

“Ah,” his mother murmured, and Legolas felt it vibrate from her into him as he pulled his hand back in, wrapped it gently in that hair that was so like his own. “Saida knows a lot for just being told.”

“Her brother is also an artist,” Legolas said matter-of-factly. “He draws her pictures of his travels in the evenings, in their camps. He brings them home to her and tells her stories. His stories are like picture books. I have heard them, too.”

“That is nice of him.”

“Yes. I wish Felavel could draw like him.”

“Felavel brings you back other things from her work,” his mother said neutrally.

“Yes, and I love them—there are so many different things in our Wood!”

“There are, child.”

It was quiet again for a long time. Legolas knit his mother’s hair between his fingers like a loom; her hair was a dark blackwater that contrasted with his tawny skin, warm as the hair she had plaited from his face into a knot that morning, to keep it tidy during travel. He loosened his hold on his mother’s hair and it unwound from his hands like a spring. He scratched at a braid that tugged at his hairline and then turned his attention again to the elves around him. Their hair was light to dark, cornsilk to coils, but the Men of the Lake had hair that waved like gentle weave in shades of brown, and those of the Western Plains had hair that fell in a sheet like dark and windless rain. The men of those places had one hair, it seemed—not many.

He shifted against his mother’s back and spoke: “Why do all the Men in one place look the same, but we elves here—in our one place, in our Wood—we do not?”

His mother did not answer for a moment, and he could feel her thinking, and he matched his breaths to hers while she pondered. She readjusted her hold on his thighs, and Legolas waited.

“Our people are complicated, Legolas,” his mother finally said. “We come from many places and many cultures and many histories, but we all eventually made Mirkwood our home.”

“Ithildim says he has been here forever.”

She laughed. “Many of his mother’s people are Avarin, Legolas. But they have not been here forever, though they have been here longer than even our own folk”

“And much longer than Father’s,” Legolas said assuredly. “Well,” he immediately corrected himself, “than—than his father. Is that right, Mother?”

“You have many questions, emlineg,” his mother said, but she was laughing again. “When we return, I will be telling your father you are finally old enough to begin your studies!”

Legolas shrugged and then squirmed to be let down. She dropped him to the ground and he took her hand.

“That is all right, I guess,” he finally said, and she swung their hands between them. “I think I want to understand.”

There was quiet as they began their journey again, as they watched the wide and wild world move about them.

“The most important thing for you to know, emlineg,” his mother said finally, after they had walked together for a time, and had fallen slightly behind the others due to Legolas’ small legs. “Is that we are all wood-elves, and that you have parts of all of its folk—East and West of the Mountains—in your soul, and your history. You are the creation of all those who came before you, and you carry them in your heart, where'er you go.”

Legolas looked up at her, and her dark hazel eyes were wide and bright and shining in her face; her hand was tight on his.

“That is a beautiful thing, child,” his mother whispered. “You must never forget that.”

Legolas stood and watched her without moving for a moment, for there was something happening here that he knew he was not quite old enough to understand, but it seemed so important to his mother...

He eventually raised his arms into the air without words and she picked him up. She adjusted him so he could tuck his head against her chest, so his legs dangled to either side of her hips.

They were almost caught up with their folk when Legolas finally affirmed, voice muffled in her shawl and cut short by a yawn: “I shall never forget it, Mother.”

And she pressed a kiss to his head then, and he let himself drift as the river cut the plains and they eventually breached the wood; let himself drift as voices were lifted in song, as birds wove their notes in his mind; as it fell to darkness around them and the Sun fled them and the night came down heavy; and he drifted, too, as they went through the great gates and crossed the bridge into the Halls.

He did not even truly wake as his mother handed him to his father, as they hugged above him, as golden hair caught blackwater curls and tickled his tired nose.

That is a beautiful thing, child. You must never forget that.

But he was safe and he was warm and he was loved, and that was beautiful, and elves—

Elves do not forget.

He adjusted himself against his father’s chest and felt his mother’s hand brush his cheek; his father’s heartbeat was strong and steady in his ears as they moved toward his room, and it was a bass drum at festival that beat in time with his; it was a lullaby that reassured him into sleep.

.o.

Years would pass, and Legolas’ mother would leave them, and so much of what and who he was would flee.

And yet, even after all that—even after his mother was but a memory in the wood-elves’ storied past—Legolas would carry her inside him.

He would let her beat in his heart with the dozens of mothers of their people that had come before them—that he had never known—and he would carry them forward, and on.

And to the day that he sailed oversea, Legolas would never ever forget.

FIN

Please reach out to me in a DM/chat if you feel I have written something insensitive. I would be happy to speak with you.

#dvtw21 #legolas #mirkwood fam #diversity in middle earth #my fanfiction #my family trauma shit #lmao haha its fine #cw cultural erasure #lotr fanfiction #throwing my work and my own vulnerability into the world as if i am made of steel and not a delicate flower #long post #diversetolkienweek #silvan elves #wood-elves

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years ago

Text

The Soldier. Miya Atsumu

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2K

Notes: The first installment to my mini-collection entitled “Soldier, Poet, King,” inspired by the song of the same name by The Oh Hellos. That song really makes me want to dance in a meadow of wildflowers in a white flowy dress, no front.

June 28

My love,

I pray that this letter finds you well. The months that have drifted by where I have not been able to see your smile have caused nothing but heartache. But, the prospects of seeing you once again fills me with even more determination to come home to you. Each night that passes is one night closer to this war being over and one day closer to being by your side again.

I sense that this will draw to a close soon. There is talk amongst the troops that our final attack will be launched within the coming months after the adequate preparation is made. I hope that you think of me during these trying times. Knowing that I have crossed your mind for even an instant is enough to stay alive. My love, I wish to return to you as soon as possible. We can finally seal our love and begin a new life together, that’s a promise. Please know that I think of you each minute of every day. You are in my head at this very moment while I scribe this letter to you. Waking and asleep, I yearn only to have you in my company once more.

I hope that you write back quickly. While I am many miles from you, these letters that carry the faintest hints of your perfume are my only piece of you. It is nothing compared to the real thing, but I will gratefully take what I can. Until the next, my love.

Yours,

Miya Atsumu

The small piece of parchment is folded and slipped back into the drawer of a nightstand where it will wait to be read again the next day. The ink had begun to fade, the edges worn from constant handling. It had been nearly three months without any sort of communication from your beloved. There had not been a single letter come through the post with your name written across the envelope in his messy script, but every day you still ran out to greet the postman, that tiny light of hope still shining brightly within you, even if only for a few moments. But, it would only be diminished as the mail was handed to you and just as it had been for the past three months, the postman would smile sadly, knowing just as well as you did that there was no letter from Atsumu.

Your heart kept repeating over and over that he was fine, that maybe he was so busy getting ready for the end of the war that he didn’t have time to write to you. Maybe his letters were getting lost in the mail and there were half a dozen envelopes with your name on them sitting in a pile of letters. But, even you knew that that was a far stretch of the imagination. The others who had found love in the arms of military men had been hearing from their own sweethearts. It was the height of conversation during every encounter. “Have you heard from him?” “Yes! I just got a new letter last week. And you? Has he written to you?” And each conversation was only met with a saddened expression when you explained that, no, he hadn’t written to you in a while. You were always assured with a delicate embrace that he would write soon, but as time ticked by, those reassurances began to make you feel worse and worse.

He promised that he would be back. He promised to make you happy, grow a life with you. If there was one thing you knew better than anything, it was that Miya Atsumu never broke his promises to you. But, that heavy feeling that you found sinking further and further in your stomach each night was becoming difficult to ignore. Each day that passed without a word from him was just another day where you came closer to believing the worst. Surely, though, if something had happened to him, someone would’ve told you. One of his friends from the military would’ve written to you or, at the very least, you thought that Osamu would’ve told you about how his brother was doing, but there was nothing. No one was able to inform you of Atsumu's condition and the unknown was eating away at you with every passing hour.

Still, you clung onto the lingering promise that was beginning to fade from the parchment. He would be back.

But, then another moon passed and your reality began to sink in. You had unfolded and read that final letter so many times, the creases beginning to rip from the wear. There were smudges in the lingering ink where shaky sobs had fallen to the parchment in the privacy of wavering candlelight. You would grow old all on your own, your one love being buried in the ground with thousands of other men who had fallen on the battlefield at such a young age.

“Have hope. My Kita says that the war is coming to a close.”

But, it was so very easy to have hope when there was something telling you that he was alive and well. How were you to continue holding on to this idea that was kept trying to fly away from you? While the dove flittered away, a large raven loomed behind you. How could you possibly focus on keeping the dove in your grasp with the chilling gaze of the raven’s beady eyes boring into your soul, constantly reminding you of its presence? You couldn’t, no matter how much you struggled to keep that little white bird contained, it kept slipping out of your hands, leaving you with the scary alternative.

Each day became harder to bear. Each day that passed where you couldn’t hear Atsumu’s warm laughter, see his lazy gaze that never failed to be so full of adoration for you, each day that he wasn’t bringing your hand up to his lips in a kiss, one that told the world that you were his while still abiding by the social norm, was like living another day in your own personal hell. To share those hasty kisses in the privacy of your home, but still not letting lips be attached for long in fear that someone might see an unmarried couple engaged in such a taboo act of love, the feeling of his lips pressed against your own in such fevered declarations of his fondness for you felt like a dream that had happened one too many eons ago. The knot that grew in your chest with each thought of him brought your sobs closer to surfacing all over again. But, rather, you choked them all away, keeping your head high in a way that you knew would make you Atsumu proud. You could almost hear his low chuckle, feel his hand patting your head gently, “You’re really something, aren’t you? Always so confident. You’ll be fine without me for a little while, princess.”

The thought alone was enough to make you snort. If only he could see inside your mind right now, see that you were anything but fine as the worst possible outcome played over and over, never pausing to give you a break. The image of Miya Atsumu laying out in the heat of a battlefield, bloodied and wounded, trying to fight for one more breath kept weaving its way into your mind, but it always ended the same way. Those bright brown eyes that always held an air of excitement would fall dim, his toned chest would struggle to rise and inevitably fail, head lolling limply to the side as a fellow platoon member closed his eyelids for the last time.

“I hear that the soldiers are returning this week,” Ayaka said as she sat across from you one afternoon, the tea cup rising to her lips. You hadn’t touched your own cup. It still sat on the table in front of you, two sugar cubes waiting to be stirred in. Your thoughts had been gnawing at you non-stop, but this prospect-

He could be coming home.

It brought the dove back into reach, even if only for a moment. You were able to forget about that steady gaze of the raven, focusing solely on the white bird that had returned to you.

“Do you know when?”

“Thursday, I believe. My sister and I plan on coming into town to greet them. Would you care to join us? Even- even if he’s not there, you could at least get a sense of closure.”

You didn’t want to think about the possibility of Atsumu not marching along the ranks of men, you just wanted to see him one more time, to tell him that you loved him all over again. But, even as you weighed the idea that your friend could be right about his fate, you found yourself nodding in agreement to her proposal.

The letter had been read three more times, each night ending with clutching that wrinkled piece of parchment to your chest, wishes made to some nameless being in hopes that he would come back to you. “Please. . .”

Blue military jackets adorned by weary looking men lined the streets, people smiling and cheering that their loved ones had returned home after such long months of being gone. Ranks were broken as people rushed to the awaiting arms of their families, but as much as you scanned the rows, you couldn’t find that familiar blonde hair poking out from under the issued cap. Each row that passed had you slinking further into yourself, the truth bringing that all-to-familiar tug at your heart.

“‘Samu, give me that! You’re just being an ass, come on!”

“If you want it so badly, come get it.”

“How?!”

The tears flowed down your cheeks for a whole new reason. At the very end of the ranks, a group of men were clustered together. They all fared worse than the others. Some were missing limbs, most were just covered in bandages, deep stains of red contrasting against the stark white. Bringing up the very rear, a young man bickered with another, desperately reaching for the wooden crutch that was being held just out of reach.

“Atsumu!”

That beautiful sound was the only thing he wanted to hear. His name from your lips. It had his heart racing and a wide toothy grin spanning across his features. The gunshot wound on his thigh throbbed with each crutch-less limp in your direction, but he didn’t even care. You were running towards him, slowing only enough so that your momentum didn’t take him to the ground. Arms flung around his neck, his easy laughter being the only sound in your ears. It felt just so surreal, the soldier finally returning to the arms of his beloved.

“I was so worried about you,” you whisper, burying your head in the shoulder of his uniform.

“I know, princess. But they wouldn’t let me write to you or anyone else while I was in the hospital. If I could have, I would have sent you a hundred letters to remind you just how much I love you.” Atsumu leans away from you, wincing as he tries to place weight on his injured leg, but despite the pain, he takes your hand in his. Lazy brown eyes never leave your face as he brings it to his lips, a loving kiss placed to your knuckles. There’s no denying the happy smile on his face as he lets you caress his cheek.

“I made a promise to you, princess. And I don’t break my promises,” he starts, reaching up to lay his hand over yours. “I can’t wait to marry you, princess.”

#trt #throne room thursday #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu #haikyuu x reader #miya #atsumu #miya x reader #atsumu x reader #victorian au #x reader #imagine

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gay-otlc · 4 years ago

Text

A Risk I Want To Take

Summary: Pyrokinetics were never destined for happiness, and when Marella grows painfully aware that she could lose control and hurt the people she loves, she has to decide whether loving Linh is a risk she's willing to take.

Content warnings: (Imagined) death, cursing

Words: 2349

(Read On AO3)

"-Linh!" Marella screams, her eyes flying open. Wildly, she flings her arm out, searching for her girlfriend. It's cold; her blanket must have been thrown off the bed. She can't breathe. Distantly, she notices her cheeks are wet. She barely registers any of this, too panicked to think of anything but finding Linh.

Or... will she never find Linh? Did that really happen? Is Linh really dead?

Did that happen long ago, and her dreams were simply memories? It's so hard to make the distinction. Her brain is foggy with exhaustion and messy with panic, she can't think straight. She thinks she and Linh went on a date together just last night, but maybe that happened a million years ago. Maybe it all happened a million years ago; her life before Linh, and when they met, when they fell in love, all their time together. Maybe it's been a million years since Linh turned from a girl filled with life and kindness and beauty into a pile of ashes, since Marella destroyed her.

Maybe none of that ever existed. Maybe the only thing that's really real is right now, Marella, sitting upright in her bed in a cold sweat, frantically looking around the room as she still sees Linh dying every time she closes her eyes.

Marella knows she would never do anything to hurt Linh- or at least, she thinks that. She thinks that. But can she have one hundred percent certainty, really? Because it's never a guarantee that Marella is safe. She's a ticking time bomb, really. In recent years, she's gotten much better at controlling her outbursts of fire, but they aren't impossible. Panic attacks nearly made her burn her house down multiple times; they would have if Linh hadn't extinguished the fire. If she got upset enough, she might have burst into flame once again, and destroyed everything around her.

The longer she thinks about it, the more she's convinced of it; when she went to sleep last night, her mind simply decided to recount the time she killed her girlfriend, rather than fabricating something fictional from her fears. That had to be it. Memories and nightmares are all blending together in Marella's mind, together forming a cold, gnawing fear, and the sound of Linh's tortured screams.

She holds out her hand, palm facing upward. Her eyes close for a second, then open again. Little flames spark from her fingertips. She watches the fire, its golden glow calming her down, strangely.

How could something so beautiful have killed Linh?

...

"I may be the Pyrokinetic, but you make my heart melt," Marella blurts. In her defense, Linh looks especially beautiful today. It's their first date, and Linh is wearing a light blue mermaid-style dress and has her silver-tipped hair braided, draped over her light brown bare shoulder. For what must be the millionth time since Linh agreed to this, Marella wonders how she could have ever gotten a date with someone so incredible.

As she realizes what came out of her mouth, she cringes, wishing for the ground to swallow her whole.

Luckily, Linh must have found it cute, because she smiles. "I may be the Hydrokinetic, but I'm drowning in your eyes," Linh responds, and Marella feels her face get hot.

"Um- uh- thank you," she stammers.

Linh's smile grows wider. She holds out her hand to Marella, who does her best not to grin like an idiot as she takes it. Their hands fit together perfectly, and Marella never wants to let go. And somehow, it gets better. Linh leans over, closer, and presses her lips softly against Marella's cheek.

Marella isn't convinced she's a person anymore. Maybe she's just an entity of excited butterflies.

If she could have frozen time at any moment, she would choose to live right then forever. Even if that isn't possible, she wants to be with Linh forever.

...

Somewhere, deep inside Marella, something points out that maybe Linh isn't really dead. Maybe it really was just a dream.

Marella finds it hard to believe that. Of course she's killed Linh, of course she'd gotten too close and ruined the best thing in her life, of course she had. That seemed incredibly in character for her. A Pyrokinetic, right? Fintan had told her once that Pyrokinetics were never destined for happiness. Linh had assured her that he was wrong, Marella would be the exception, her life didn't have to be ruled by his misery. Linh said they could find happiness together.

Foolishly, Marella had believed her.

Pyrokinetics were never destined for happiness, and she isn't an exception. Why had she thought she could be? Marella is nothing but dangerous, fire and smoke and destruction. No one should ever love her. Even if she doesn't have bad intentions, that doesn't matter; whether or not it's intentional, the result is the same. The world is in flames. Linh is dead.

Shouldn't she have known this would happen? There's a reason Pyrokinetics were banned, and it's because they're too dangerous to be allowed around anyone else. The Council was generally wrong, but even a stopped clock is right twice a day, and they were right about this. She should have listened to them and isolated herself, because maybe she would be miserable, but everyone else would be safe.

That's what they had said she should do.

Why hadn't she listened to them?

Every time she felt herself growing warmer, something angry and hot grow in her chest, her fingertips tingle with the desire for flame, she heard their voices in her head; You are not safe. Every time, she regretted not listening.

It wasn't hard at all to believe she had lost control eventually, not at all. The details are fuzzy, but it could have happened, and that means it probably did, and Marella has never felt so scared, not in all those times the Neveseen nearly killed her. Never.

"Linh?" she calls again, not expecting a response. She loves the way Linh's name sounds on her lips, full of soft warmth and light and love. It's nothing like that now; panicked and cold. "Linh, please answer me!"

Silence.

"Linh!" she screams.

It's soft, but Marella's sure she hears it: "What?"

"Linh!"

Footsteps sound outside her door, and it swings open. The lights flick on, and Linh is there. Her jet black hair is messy, face wrinkled in confusion. "Are you alright?"

A choked sob escapes Marella's lips.

...

"Don't fucking tell me I'm not allowed to see her!" yells Marella. "She's- She's my girlfriend, she's fucking everything to me. I love her! I fucking love her, and she's fucking dying, and I want to see her!"

Without waiting for a response, she wrestles the door open and runs in.

Everything freezes. The world falls apart; everything seems wrong somehow, like it's all been altered, and nothing will ever be right again. Marella can't move, maybe she's breathing, maybe she isn't- she can't tell. Linh might not have died yet, but it doesn't look like her odds are good. Her chest is rising and falling so slowly. Scarlet pools at her side and onto the bedsheets. She looks so fragile.

So corpselike.

Furiously, Marella swipes a sleeve across her eyes and takes a seat beside Linh. She takes Linh's hand- freezing cold and limp- in hers, squeezing it like she'll never let go. "Linh," she whispers, and then all of her efforts to hold herself together come undone. "It's not- it's not fucking fair," she sobs. "Not fucking fair. We just got together; you said you liked me, and we went on a date, and you kissed me on the cheek, and I knew I wanted things to stay that way forever. I knew I loved you. And then you go get fucking stabbed! It isn't fair!"

Linh doesn't respond.

"I love you!" she shouts. "Linh, I'm in love with you, because you're the most incredible person I have ever met in my life, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You're kind and caring and funny and sweet and brave and beautiful and a million other things, if I listed everything I loved about you, it would take an eternity. But we don't have the eternity we deserve; I don't know how much time we have, but I want it to be longer than the next few minutes. Please, Linh, you have to wake up, so I can tell you all the reasons I love you, and we can fall in love over and over again, every time we look at each other, and we can get married, and we can get old together, and we can watch the world change, and we can have forever. I love you, and I want that, but you have to wake up. So please, Linh, don't die. You're not allowed to die. I won't let you, because I fucking love you!"

Linh doesn't respond.

Of course she doesn't. This isn't some cheesy romance story, a badly written cliche. This is real life, and miracles don't happen in real life.

"I love you, Linh," she repeats. "I'll love you forever. Even when you're gone."

She presses a kiss to Linh's knuckles, and then backs her chair up a few inches so she can curl into herself and cry.

An hour passes, and Linh doesn't die. Then another, and she's still hanging on to life. She survives the next hour, and the next, and then next, until Marella's been by her side for a full day and Linh is still alive.

She wakes up after three days, and Marella holds Linh more tightly than she was aware was possible, and whispers I love you over and over again until it no longer sounds like words. Linh is back, and she'll never want anything again, because she could not be happier.

...

"You're alive," Marella breathes, feeling incomprehensible relief wash over her. She springs up to hug Linh tightly.

Linh squeezes back after a moment of pause. "Um... yes. I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because I killed you!"

Gently, Linh untangles herself from Marella's desperate embrace. "Darling, I love you so much, but you're not making any sense." She bends down to kiss Marella's forehead and takes her hand, leading her back to the bed, where the mattress bends slightly as she sits down. Marella sits beside her, but slides away, just in case she sets Linh on fire for real this time. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Marella is shaking. Has she been shaking this hard the whole time? And she thinks there are fresh tears on her cheeks. "I- I had a nightmare," she whispers, feeling stupid as she says it. Panic washes over her again as she remembers how it felt to watch Linh be consumed by Marella's own flames, to watch Linh die. "We had an argument, and I- I lost control of my Pyrokinesis, and you died. And- and I could have stopped it, but I was mad, and I did no-nothing when you screamed for help, and I didn't care that you were dying. I didn't care!"

"Oh, darling, that sounds horrible. I'm so sorry," says Linh, opening her arms for another hug. Fear flares up in Marella's chest, and she slides away again, shaking her head. Why is Linh apologizing to her? She should be the one apologizing- for being dangerous, for being such a mess, for not caring. "Marella, you don't have to be afraid of hugging me. You wouldn't do that for real. I'll be alright."

"You don't know that," Marella argues.

"No, I'm not absolutely, one hundred percent certain that you will not light me on fire. But I'm fairly sure, and I love you, so I'm willing to take that risk."

"Well, I'm not." It was the most terrifying experience of Marella's life when she thought she had killed Linh, and she never wants to risk feeling anything like that ever again.

"Marella, I know you're not a bad person," Linh says, and even though Marella knows it's a lie, it still sounds nice. "I know you're guilty about having not helped me in your nightmare, but you're so terrified right now- that's proof that you care about me. It was a nightmare, Marella, that doesn't define you."

"But- but it could happen in real life. It could happen. I could hurt you so easily. You'd be safer if you just stayed away from me."

Linh takes Marella's hands in hers, squeezing them tighter when Marella tries to pull back, and looks her in the eyes. "I'd be safer, maybe, but I wouldn't be happier, and I love you so much. You're a risk I want to take."

"I don't want you to-"

"I know it's scary," Linh says. "I know you're scared of hurting me, and I love you for trying to protect me. But I know what it's like to be dangerous, and to be terrified of hurting the people you love, and I know isolating yourself won't help. Nothing I say is going to make all the fear go away, but I want you to know; I love you, Marella Redek. I love all of the wonderful things about you, and I love all of your flaws, and I love your Pyrokinesis too, because it's a part of you, and I love all of you. Loving someone is always a risk you take, because when let yourself be vulnerable with someone, you risk them hurting you, and you choose to love them anyway, because sometimes happiness is more important than safety. Loving you is a small risk compared to the enormity of my love for you, and you're more important than the safety I'd get from always avoiding Pyrokinetics. You're a risk I want to take. Do you feel the same way?"

It's terrifying. Marella is terrified. Hurting Linh is, without a doubt, the most terrifying thing there is. And yet... loving Linh is the most wonderful. "Yeah," she says finally, quietly. "You're a risk I want to take."

#shai types things #kotlc #marellinh #marella redek #linh song #cursing tw #death tw #shai's writing

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jihyuncompass · 4 years ago

Text

Sincerely With All My Heart

Jihyun Week 2020 Day Two ( @mysme-events )

Letters

Jihyun Kim x MC

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: N/A

Summary: On your one year anniversary you and Jihyun reminisce.

On the first anniversary of being with Jihyun, and the third anniversary since you first met him, the two of you sat together at the dinner table. Dinner had been finished for a while by now. Both of your plates are empty and glasses of wine are already finished. Now you were just sitting at the table, talking about whatever was on your mind.

“Dinner was good?” Jihyun asked you. You smiled.

“Dinner was amazing. That recipe you found was incredible, we’ll definitely have to hold onto it.”

“Agreed.” Jihyun inched his hand over to hold yours. He had the most gentle of smiles, the ones that warmed your heart and made butterflies flutter in your stomach. It’s a smile that could take over the world if he wanted it to.

The past year could only be described as the best year of your life. From the day Jihyun returned to you at the RFA party it felt like your world had been filled with so much more life. The things you previously found dull like cooking, cleaning and doing the smallest of household chores felt like grand adventures and sweet romanticized moments you could only find in a film. Jihyun truly felt like the last missing puzzle piece of your heart, and with him you felt happier than you’d ever been.

Now sitting here, holding onto his hand, staring into his eyes you could help but smile like an idiot. You just wanted to keep staring at him and never stop, let yourself get lost in his vibrant eyes over and over again.

“I have a gift for you.” Jihyun said, snapping your out of your train of thought. You leaned forward.

“So do I.” You said.

“Then why don’t we take care of these first?” Jihyun’s smile grew while he pushed his chair back and grabbed the plates you both had pushed aside, taking the plates he went back to the kitchen. Getting up from your chair you took the two dirty wine glasses and followed him.

You began your usual routine, Jihyun washed and scrubbed the dishes while you rinsed and dried them. At this point it was automatic, you knew when to reach out your hand to take a plate and he knew when you were about done with whatever you were drying in order to hand you the next one. Together you hummed along to the music you had playing over the sound of the running water. Little words were spoken, but they didn’t need to be. The feeling of being close to one another was more than enough.

Working together the two of you finished washing the dishes quickly and then made quick work of putting them all away. Again with few words needing to be spoken.

Choosing to move to the living room you both brought out the gifts you’d prepared for each other. Earlier in the month you’d both agreed not to go with anything to fancy. Preferring gifts more from the heart than something expensive.

The gifts were two similarly shaped boxes. Sitting beside each other you both slowly tore off the wrapping paper covering the gifts. Both finding matching boxes willed with envelopes.

You both looked at each other, similar looks of confusion.

“Jihyun are these?”

“They’re some of the letters I wrote to you while I was gone.” He said. “I sent you some but there were dozens I couldn’t get the courage to send. So I put them in this box to hold onto, but. I want you to be able to read them now.” You smiled and looked back into the box, sure enough you could see several dozen letters, all with your name written on the envelope in Jihyun’s messy handwriting. “And these letters are?”

You looked over to the box you’d given him. “Well I couldn’t really send you letters, since I rarely knew where you were but I would write to you, a lot. And since I couldn’t send them I just collected them.” He looked into the box, at the similarly dozens of letters you wrote to him. The two of you laughed. “I guess great minds think alike huh?”

Jihyun kissed your cheek. “I guess so.” He turned back to the box, taking out the first letter in the box. Dated just a week after he had left. Being careful to not tear the envelope he opened it and pulled out the paper inside. Unfolding the pages.

“Dear V,” He started. “It’s only been a few days since you’ve left, and yet I miss you so much already. We knew each other for such a short amount of time and yet I find my world completely changed. I still remember the way you looked at me that last time we saw each other, I want to remember that look forever.

I don’t know where you are right now. You could be anywhere in the world right now, but I hope wherever you are you’re safe, and I hope you can find some of the answers I know you are so desperately looking for.

I miss you, and I promise I’ll wait.

Sincerely yours, MC.”

A small smile was present on your face. Even though you had collected these to give to him, you hadn’t read them back since you first wrote them. Inclined to just seal them up and move on with them. Jihyun put the letter back into the envelope and then motioned towards you.

“It’s your turn.” He said.

“Is that how we’re doing this?” You laughed. “Alright, I’ll read one of yours.” You took out the first one. Dated just merely a day after he had left. You opened up the envelope and cleared your throat.

“Dear MC,

I still can not get the picture of you out of my mind. I’m currently at the airport, waiting on a taxi to take me to a hotel I’ve booked, and sitting here I can’t get you out of my head. There’s this temptation in the back of my head to turn around and get back on a plane home. But I won’t. This is something I need to do, and I’ll return to you when it’s the right time.

Even though I’m not with you I hope you know I’m thinking about you. I wonder if you can feel my heart reaching out to you.

As selfish as it might be. I hope you’ll wait for me.

Yours truly, V.”

You closed the letter, even just reading it you can remember the voice of the man you met first. The mysterious photographer V, and thinking about Jihyun now, it truly was like he was a completely different person. Yet still in his words you could feel the seeds of the Jihyun Kim you know starting to take form.

Setting it aside so you would remember you’d opened that one you looked back to Jihyun.

“Your turn.” He turned back to the box and retrieved the next envelope. This one dated one month after he’d left. You tried to think back on what you had written in, or what was on your mind at that point. While he opened it you couldn’t force yourself to remember.

“Dear V,

The past month has been so strange. Adjusting after everything has been a lot harder than I expected. Though, I guess I didn’t expect it to be easy either. I guess you don’t just get abducted by a cult and go back to normal life huh?

Luciel told me you were in Europe recently. I wonder what you saw there, I keep imagining you in art museums, walking along the city streets with your camera. I hope you’re enjoying yourself, and I hope your eyes are healing well.

I constantly find myself thinking about you. Every time something happens you are the first person I always want to tell. Even though by now we have spent far more time apart than we have together I still think of you. And I can’t help but wonder, if you’re thinking about me too.

I’m still waiting, and I don’t plan on stopping.

Sincerely yours, MC.”

Jihyun looked at you, closing up the letter. “I did think about you. All the time. Everywhere I went I would constantly imagine you there with me. The first few months, those were the most difficult and imagining you with me. It always helped.” You leaned over kissing Jihyun’s cheek. “Now. I think it’s your turn?” You pulled out the next one. This one marked around three months after he had left.

Two things also came inside it. One was a torn up plane ticket. Listing for the same date as the letter. A flight that had obviously been cancelled. The second thing, what looked to be a sketch. It looked like a bustling coffee shop. In the corner of the paper, Jihyun’s signature.

“Dear MC,

I’ve been in London for the past week and a half. Being here I am struck by just how beautiful it is, and just how much I wish you were here with me.

Last night I bought a plane ticket on a whim. I had been struggling, nightmares seemed to be constantly plaguing my mind, and when I would wake up all I could think of was you. I almost longed for the days I was under the influence of that drug, if only so I could wake up with you next to me. There to comfort me when I felt scared.

I ended up cancelling the ticket, as badly as I want to see you. I also want to see you when I’m the man who deserves to be around you. And considering my state last night, I still have a lot of work to do.

This morning I sat in a coffee shop, feeling lost in my own thoughts. And for the first time in as long as I can remember I felt the urge to draw my surroundings. My skills aren’t very good yet and I wish I could have done better, but this is progress.

I miss you, and I hope you’re well.

Yours truly, V.”

You held the sketch in your hand, You could nearly imagine yourself sitting there, seeing all the very things he saw, and looking over the details, you could see where his art style was taking shape. Although only in small details here.

Jihyun shook his head at the sketch. “That is much worse than I remember it being.” You raised your eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I think it looks great.” You smiled looking over the details again. “I can tell you worked hard on it, and I love it.” You slipped the ripped up ticket and the sketch back with the letter in the envelope. You motioned towards the box in Jihyun’s lap. “Your turn now.”

This letter was dated six months after he left. Like the others you wondered about its contents. Jihyun opened it and unfolded the page, before he spoke you saw the way his eyes read the first sentence with hesitation.

“Dear V,

I broke down in front of Jumin today.

We were just having dinner. Like we have for months now, I’d had only one glass of wine. We were sitting on the couch, just talking. He’d been talking about his childhood with you. He even pulled out old photos of you.

He showed me a picture of when you were a kid, and ones from highschool. But then there was this one. It was you and Jumin, and Rika.

There was something about seeing her that set me off. I just kept imagining her standing over you back at Mint Eye. Down in that dungeon after you’d been drugged. I kept seeing the way you looked after she’d stabbed you. I just. Kept hearing her voice in my head. And I broke down.

I feel terrible for Jumin. He had no idea what to do, and I couldn’t stop crying. In the past six months I’ve cried a lot sure, but never in front of anyone, and especially not in front of Jumin.

I guess. I guess what happened left a much bigger mark on me than I thought.

I miss you V, but I’ll keep waiting.

Yours truly, MC.”

Jihyun closed this letter slowly, He looked at you, you took his hand.

“I had a rough go of it for a while.” You cringed. “Actually the six months to one year point was pretty rough.” Jihyun moved to sit closer to you, to see your face more up close. “I don’t think I really dealt with what happened, and then it all kind of hit at once.” Shrugging you rubbed the back of your neck.

You and Jihyun moved through the stacks of letters. Some were written days apart, others, weeks. Some of them were deep and philosophical, others were mundane. Like the one where you spent all of the page complaining about your grocery list, or another one where Jihyun wrote about a terrible plane ride he’d been on. Some were positive, filled with hope and a belief that things would get better. Then some were sad, like when Jihyun wrote about his mother, or his relationship with Rika. Some of yours were angry. Angry at the world, at life, at Rika, at him, at yourself.

The both of you cringed at the angry ones you had written. He read them while you apologized continuously. You assured him you were just struggling and didn’t know how to direct your emotions. And Jihyun forgave you with a kiss and a hug.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you when you were struggling. You shouldn't have felt like you were going through it alone.” You held him tight but shook your head.

“No, you shouldn’t have had to feel like you had to care for me. You had so much you were also trying to figure out. By staying you would have ended up taking care of me instead of yourself.”

“I guess you’re right about that.” He put the last letter he read back in the box. “You do know me well.” You laughed.

Like with the letters you wrote, there were ones Jihyun had written that made him cringe. Though instead of the anger you had, Jihyun’s letters held sadness. The kind that felt reminiscent of your time in the safe house while he was recovering. When he was determined to go back to Rika, to sacrifice himself. In his letters he wrote of how much he missed you, how much he wanted to come back.

After a particularly cringy one Jihyun had pulled part of his sweater over his head in embarrassment.

“I was not having a great time that night.” He said. “I also think I’d had a little too much to drink, I’m so sorry.” You laughed reading over the letter again.

“I want to paint only you forever, I don’t care if I become poor and destitute, I only want to create your image.” Jihyun groaned. “I think it’s cute.” He shook his head.

“Can we just move on?” You put it back in the box and ran a hand through his hair poking out from his sweater where his face was hidden.

“Sure love, why don’t you read one?”

You read through more letters and notes until you got to the last one. You read the date, only one day before his return to you. A smile crossed your face while you pulled out this final note. Unfolding it you began to read aloud, one more time.

“My dearest MC,

I’m sitting in the airport now. My flight to you boards in just under an hour. I can’t deny how excited I am to return to you. Everytime my mind wanders it goes to you, I wonder what you’ll look like. How much you’ve changed since I saw you two years ago.

I keep thinking of what I want to say to you, I tried to even write out a speech for you. Confessing everything I feel, everything I’ve learned since I’ve been away, but no matter what I wrote it never seemed to sound right. Maybe it would be better if I just spoke from the heart.

This is the moment I’ve been dreaming about for the past two years. Since even before I left you. Somehow I’m still nervous though. So much can change in two years, I know I have. The one thing though, that hasn’t changed is my feelings for you.

Even if I couldn’t admit it then. I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.

I imagine this will likely be my last letter to you. Since I’ll be seeing you in only a few hours, but I love you. I love you so much.

With love, Jihyun Kim.”

Tears filled your eyes, Jihyun’s hand moved up to wipe the ones that escaped away from your cheeks. You sniffled and put it back in its envelope. Putting it back so carefully.

“I love you too Jihyun, My feelings never changed either, just got stronger.” You leaned in and kissed him. The words of the latter written 366 days ago still in your head, then pulling away you glanced to the last letter you wrote to him. Dated for the same day. “Go ahead.”

He opened the final one, taking in a deep breath. You curled around him, arms circling his waist and your head on his shoulder. This is one you remembered well.

“My love, V.

I just picked up my dry cleaning. Tomorrow is the RFA party. The first one since the cancelled one two years ago. I’ve been planning it for months now, this party is going to be huge. We have celebrities of all kinds coming, and so many different unique guests. I can't help but be thrilled.

I’m scared too. Jumin has assured me that everything will go well, but I hope I did okay. I think most of all, I just hope that you’d be proud of this party, and think I did a good job.

The fact it’s been two years since I last saw you doesn’t feel real. It feels like just yesterday I said goodbye, and also? It feels like it has been a million years.

I hope wherever you are you’re warm and comfortable. I hope you’ve found the courage to paint again, I hope your heart has healed since I last saw you. As much as I want you to come home to me I also hope you’re at peace. Because you deserve to be happy, and you deserve to feel at ease.

I’m still waiting, and I’ll keep waiting. Even if it takes two more years, or five, or ten, even if you don’t return until we’re old and wrinkled I’ll still wait. My heart is yours, and it will always be.

Tomorrow and forever, everything I do will be dedicated to you. I love you Jihyun Kim, and I’ll keep waiting for you. Forever.

Sincerely, with all my heart,

MC.”

#jihyunweek2020 #mystic messenger #mysme #jihyun kim #mysme jihyun #mysme v #v #v x mc #jihyun x mc

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softest-cinnamon-roll · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Could you possibly give some of your favorite finished chaptered reddie fics?❤

Well do I ever! Enjoy these amazing fics by some amazing people! Its an extensive list so I’ve put it under a read more so as not to clog the tag!

Is there somewhere by @tozier-boy | 11/11 | complete | explicit

Richie didn’t belong in boring, old fashioned, small Derry, that was for sure.

Richie Tozier wore leather jackets and ripped jeans. Richie Tozier had his ear pierced and he painted his nails black. Richie Tozier wore combat boots and let his curls grow wild and messy. Richie Tozier always had headphones around his neck and sometimes he wore eyeliner. Richie Tozier smoked weed on the school ground and told teachers to shut the fuck up. Richie Tozier was tall and skinny and he wore bands tank tops. Richie Tozier was the reason why Eddie had started biting his lower lip way more frequently than he did before.

Zero Characters Left by @stellarbisexual | 18/18 | complete | explicit

Eddie works in social media at a tech start-up in Boston, and Richie's been hired to do some video production for the company.

Characters are aged-up to their late twenties, and this takes place in 2017.

Bright as yellow by @speakslowtellmelove | 30/30 | complete | mature

“‘Remember that hot guy I couldn’t stop turning around to stare at while watching the movie? Y’know, the one I stalked? He’s being hilarious in my math class full of nerds.’ You honestly think that’s my fault, Eds?”

Eddie felt his cheeks heating up, because Richie was right about all of it. Well, most of it. “My name is Eddie, not Eds. And I didn’t stal–”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie. See, isn’t that better? Eddie and Richie, Richie and Eddie. R plus E. It has a nice ring to it.”

the sea around us by @eddiefuckinkaspbrak & @tozier-boy | 26/26 | complete | explicit

Prince Edward, is due to marry Princess Myra in order to help secure his kingdom financially. In a last ditch effort to be free and fulfil a lifelong dream of travelling the world, he sneaks out of his window and on board a pirate ship. Captain Richie Tozier’s pirate ship.

or Prince Eddie & Pirate Richie AU

Beep-beep, Eddie Kaspbrak by Ragno | 5/5 | complete | mature

Eddie Kaspbrak is 14 years old and he just defeated a demonic clown along with his friends.

Eddie Kaspbrak is 16 years old and he's fighting against himself and the way he feels and the way he thinks.

Eddie Kaspbrak is 18 years old and he'd much rather fight a demonic clown all over again than face his true feelings for Richie Tozier.

The Order by @s-s-georgie | 10/10 | complete | mature

“You guys lost too?”

“Nope. Believe it or not Silent Hill is my actual destination.”

- The Silent Hill Au Literally no one asked for but you're getting anyway.

far too young to die (part one) by @catsbrak | 17/17 | complete | explicit

Eighteen year old seamster Eddie Kasprak is forced to put his survival skills to the test when he’s selected in the reaping for the 27th Annual Hunger Games, where twenty-four young ‘tributes’ who are gathered from each of the twelve districts must fight to the death. Eddie forms close bonds, his priorities undergoing a drastic shift, and he instead takes on a more difficult task: to try and protect his friends.

(in other words, the reddie hunger games AU no one asked for, and everyone will hate me for)

Kryptonite by hoeziertozier | 13/13 | complete | explicit

‘Richie looked down and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “There’s a reason I came to New York.”

“Isn’t it because of your job?”

“Yeah, but there’s a reason I specifically chose New York. I mean, it’s Wonder Boy’s home.”

Eddie choked on air. For the first time in ages, he wanted to use his inhaler. “What?“

"Yeah, I’m kinda obsessed with him. He’s, like, my idol.”

So, his new roommate was his superhero persona’s fanboy. Yep, that was definitely not going to be a problem.’

Or, the self-indulgent Superhero!Eddie and Superfan!Richie AU that literally nobody asked for.

Just Survive Somehow by @s-s-georgie | 21/21 | complete | mature

When the world ended, and the dead rose to eat the living, it turned into kill or be killed, but how do you survive when the creatures around you are constantly evolving?

Wishes by strictlyamess | 14/14 | complete | mature

It's one thing to vacation at the Happiest Place on Earth with all your friends.

Working there with them is another thing entirely.

(or: the Disney World Employee/Cast Member AU written by a former Disney World Cast Member that some people asked for but most did not)

Operation: Hawaii Honeymoon by @tinyarmedtrex | 9/9 | complete | mature

A plan formed in Eddie’s head. One that would benefit them both. “Does your ex have an instagram?” Eddie asked. Eddie shook his head. “Do you want to make her jealous?”

“More than anything.”

“Hear me out then.” Eddie said, plunging forward even though he knew his idea was ridiculous. “What if you came to Hawaii with me? We’ll act like the perfect couple- she’ll get jealous, maybe want you back, and Myra will have to accept that I’m gay and will leave me alone.”

Richie looked up at him, a noodle dangling out of his mouth. “What?”

[ or Eddie and Richie meet on a plane to Hawaii and strike up a deal. Pretend to be lovers to make Richie’s ex-girlfriend jealous and convince Eddie’s ex-fiance Myra that he’s gay. What could go wrong?]

Inexhaustible Source of Magic by @jem-carstairs-is-perfection & @tinyarmedtrex | 17/17 | complete | teen

The Triwizard Tournament is back at Hogwarts and this time, two students from each school will be chosen to participate. When Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak are elected by the Legendary Goblet of Fire to compete, they must come together as a team and overcome their differences to prove to themselves and to others what they are capable of.

ask me to stay by @richietoizer | 7/7 | complete | teen

“Your lip is all busted,” Eddie said, as though pointing out that Richie’s lips were injured would somehow make it okay that Eddie was paying attention to them. Richie’s hand came up, long fingers wrapping around Eddie’s tiny wrist, and he gently guided Eddie’s touch away.

Eddie finally wrenched his eyes away from Richie’s lips and met his best friend’s gaze. There was a softness there that he rarely got to see, not even the smallest hint of teasing or joking there. It was just Richie, just Richie looking at him and Eddie looking back. For a single moment, it was just Richie and Eddie alone in the world. Nothing to bother them, nothing to live up to.

[or: the year is 1994, and Eddie Kaspbrak is in love.]

Sex, Money, Murder by @studpuffin | 8/8 | complete | explicit

“The only sin is mediocrity.” ― Martha Graham

the years go by like days by georgiestauffenberg | 4/4| complete | mature

It’s Eddie he wants to get a hold of, though, and he does, tucking him under his arm, and ruffling his hair, making him laugh. He’s startled when Eddie looks at him with such happy, shining eyes. And, for a split-second, he’s tempted to kiss him right then, right there in front of everyone.

He wants to. Badly. He doesn’t.

He leans in, instead, and he smacks a loud, wet kiss to Eddie’s cheek, punctuating it with a “mwah!” He does it again and again. “I’m so proud of my little Eds Spagheds!”

“Get off me!” Eddie says, laughing and shoving him away, swatting at his hands.

AU. in the 27 years in-between, Richie and Eddie forget a lot, but they don't forget each other.

Fall Away From Me (I Just Can’t Take It) by @thelazyeye | 6/6 | complete “ explicit

It’s okay, though, Eddie tells himself. It’s all fine. This is part of their arrangement. This is a casual thing they have going. It’s his own stupid fault for catching feelings for someone he agreed to casually fuck. Especially when that person is his best friend from childhood.

It Was Always You by eddie_kaspbraktozier | 12/12 | complete | teen

Eddie, miraculously, survives the fight with Pennywise. Richie is still hopelessly in love with him, even after all of these years. As Richie stays with Eddie to help him with his recovery and divorce, he tries to find the courage to tell Eddie his true feelings.

Eddie wakes up after the fight with Pennywise to realize his whole life has been a lie – his asthma, his marriage, god, his whole adult life. Although now, Eddie is finally free to decide what he wants out of life. Eddie slowly comes to realize his feelings for his best friend.

Told in alternating point of views – Richie and Eddie’s.

IT Chapter Three. The ending we deserve.

IDK, spooky stuff by varnes | 3/3 | complete | explicit

“You’re a ghost hunter, aren’t you?” Georgie reminded him. “And he’s a ghost, or something. So obviously the police won’t find him, but you guys can, with all your equipment. You can find him and make the murders stop.”

From the couch, Richie’s whole face was lit up with delight. That was always a bad sign.

“I don’t know, Georgie,” Bill said, but before he could get the words all the way out, Richie was leaping up and yanking the phone out of his hand.

“Murderous ghost circus performer, love it, love it,” he announced. “Georgiekins, say no more, not one word, we are absolutely going to come bust the shit out of this clown.”

Or: the quasi-BFU AU where Bill, Stan, Bev and Richie go to Derry to hunt a ghost. Featuring a one-armed boy out for revenge; a Tiny Smol hotel clerk who can't decide if he wants to fight Richie or marry him; The Hot Fireman From LA?!; a local librarian who just wants to read books to children in peace; and, of course, Pennywise the clown.

#reddie #multi chapter fic recs #fic recs #enjoy #complete

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aelaer · 4 years ago

Note

Uhh can I ask for BBC Sherlock fic recs? (Preferably friendship and/or familial fics, but romance is okay too)

Ooohh boy are you in for a list. I know you asked this like, at the start of quarantine or at sometime where I decided that I was no longer interested in communicating with the wider world, but hopefully this will still be of interest to you?

Throughout 2018 I did very little writing because I was busy consuming everything offered by the Sherlock fandom produced over 7-8 years. I definitely read well into the millions of words. A lot of them were from specific collections on both ff.net and AO3. I recommend looking in “collections” on ff.net in particular (as I still can’t really figure out how collections work on AO3 and how to find them easily... it’s really easy to find them on ff.net).

To my knowledge, these are all complete.

If there is any romance tagged here, it’s because it’s really, really fucking good as romance is my least favorite genre. I cannot remember all of them, but there’s a lot of angst, definitely humour, and definitely some great canonical bits. Also whumpy ones that are either really really good or a bit ridiculous but there you go.

It’s long, so under a cut. If the cut doesn’t work, I have tagged it as well.

From ff.net (alphabetical order) - NOTE: I did NOT include anything from the authors I recommended because the list was already too freaking long! But be sure to check out the authors, you can sort by “category” on ff.net on their author page and then go down to “Sherlock” to find their works:

Anything by A Wandering Minstrel (sooooo many genres)

Most anything by chappysmom (tons of genres, some are excellent, some I could take or leave, overall good stuff)

Most anything by Dayja (she writes in a ton of genres, so some I *adore* while others aren’t my cup of tea, but overall good stuff)

Anything by Gwen's Blue Box if you want angst up the wazoo.

Anything by ivywatcher for fantastic character studies.

Most anything by Jennistar1 (another multi-genre writer, both friendship and slashfic)

Anything by Radon65 - a mix of stuff. Canon IIRC.

Anything by Richefic for good, canon-friendly gap-fillers

Anything by StillWaters1 for good, canon-friendly gap-fillers

A Brief Account Of Life With Zombies by Silver Pard Sherlock thinks it's all a bit of a nuisance, John is having the time of his life, and Mycroft is Not Impressed. With anything, but mostly his minions' inability to provide a good cup of tea. Rated: T - English - Humor - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,384 - Complete

A House is not a Home by selenityshiroi This is a prompt fill from the LJ Fic Meme. John and Sherlock got a flat share because they needed to split the rent. But when John comes into money, people wonder 'why hasn't he found a place of his own' The actual prompt is inside the story Rated: T - English - Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 8,190 - John W., Sherlock H. - Complete

Annie's Song by Berouge She has a second engagement with a man and his violin, in the park, at night. Sherlock's not going for it! ONESHOT! Rated: K - English - Romance - Chapters: 1 - Words: 8,869 - Sherlock H., Molly Hooper - Complete

Basic Training by chai4anne Summary: A death at a boys' school leads to conflict and revelations among Lestrade's team, Sherlock, and John. Set between "The Hounds of Baskerville" and "The Reichenbach Fall." No slash. Rated: T - English - Mystery/Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 10,851 - Sherlock H., John W., DI Lestrade, Sgt. S. Donavan - Complete

Breaking Point by Haelia When Sherlock and Donovan are abducted and Sherlock is grievously wounded, it is up to Donovan to get them both out. "First things first, Freak. You do not give me orders. You are going to do everything I tell you to," Sally said sharply, "because we are getting out of here." Can they both escape with their lives from the most dangerous gang in London? Rated: T - English - Mystery/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 3 - Words: 14,401 - Sgt. S. Donavan, Sherlock H. - Complete

Firestorm by Dustbunny13 Sherlock returns, but his friendship with John is damaged. Nevertheless, they embark on their final hunt to finish off Moriarty's net, but it ends in a catastrophe: Sherlock is shot and lapses into a coma. As John keeps vigil, he reads Sherlock's diary written during the hiatus. Slowly, he begins to understand and finds himself wishing for another miracle. Completed. Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Adventure - Chapters: 53 - Words: 133,754 - Complete NOTE: Probably my favorite novel-length multi-chapter you find only on ff.net for this fandom.

How To Accidentally Summon a Demon by patster223 Sherlock is possessed by a demon. A damned, wicked soul that uses the kitchen table for blood rituals and experiments. John doesn't even notice the difference. Rated: K+ - English - Supernatural/Humor - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1,411 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

Kidnapped! A Comedy by scuttlesworth Poor kidnappers. Kidnapping John Watson is like pulling on a thread tied to all sorts of crazy. It's enough to make a bloke get a job and go straight. Rated: T - English - Humor/Friendship - Chapters: 2 - Words: 10,758 - John W. - Complete

Mobile Phones, Rubble and Shock by prettybirdy979 In the aftermath of the explosion, Lestrade must work to keep Sherlock Holmes alive and make sense of his communications... with only a mobile phone and Sherlock buried under the rubble of the pool. Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,679 - Sherlock H., DI Lestrade - Complete

Mouth of Babes by Morgan Stuart Several weeks after the explosion at the pool following "The Great Game" episode, Lestrade visits the recuperating Sherlock and John at 221B Baker Street. He brings case files and food... and a visitor in tow. Rated: K - English - Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,495 - Sherlock H., DI Lestrade - Complete NOTE: This is a whole series. If you like it, look up the rest under the author. It’s super cute.

Of Surgeons and Soldiers by EmRose92 Being a doctor has its advantages. He knows how to put people back together, and he knows how to take them apart. 221B is forced into a hostage situation, and John seems to be the only one who has the power to get them out of it. Includes BAMF John, protective Sherlock, and several unfortunate criminals who mess with the wrong army doctor. No slash. Rated: K+ - English - Adventure/Family - Chapters: 2 - Words: 9,695 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The Empty Home by chai4anne Sherlock would always be haunted by memories of one particular case. The first body, its once-so-familiar features blurred by the passing of time and death, moved him more than he would ever have expected. But the worst was the skeleton he uncovered later, bits of hair and clothes still clinging to it—which had no effect on him whatever, until he looked up and saw John's face. Rated: T - English - Mystery/Suspense - Chapters: 28 - Words: 150,773 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The frigid trench by Nova-chan Sherlock is badly hurt. And alone. And incapacitated. Rated: T - English - Drama/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 15 - Words: 13,118 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The Hand You're Dealt by Lady Sam Mallory Sherlock, John and several others are trapped in a building when an explosion disrupts the crime scene they are working. COMPLETE. Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Chapters: 1 - Words: 12,092 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The Secret Identity of John Watson by scifigrl47 Taken out of context, John Watson leads a terrifying life. You have to wonder what those poor women he dates thinks of it, especially if John decides to try keeping one away from Sherlock, and Sherlock decides that it'd be best if he could get rid of her Rated: T - English - Humor - Chapters: 3 - Words: 29,251 - John W., Sherlock H. - Complete

This Is What He Does For Fun by nyssa123 Sherlock and John go to the pub after a long day and Sherlock realizes that the man sitting next to them is a serial killer. He then proceeds to tell everyone how he knows. Written for a prompt on the LJ kinkmeme.

Rated: K+ - English - Humor/Mystery - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1,147 - John W., Sherlock H. - Complete

Totem by IshkabibbleScribble Rescuing Sherlock from the clutches of a violent terrorist cell forces John to rely on a long-unused, lethal skill. Rated: T - English - Friendship/Drama - Chapters: 2 - Words: 8,752 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

War Wound by SoulfireInc Set sometime after Sherlock's return, before John's wedding to Mary Mortsan. An old comrade of John's arrives at 221B Baker St, scared and desperate for the consulting detective's help. Perhaps, had Sherlock known the consequences he and John would suffer as a result of this surprise encounter, he never would have accepted the case ... [Written before season three aired.] Rated: K+ - English - Drama/Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 21,319 - Sherlock H., John W., DI Lestrade, OC - Complete

From AO3 (alphabetical order) - NOTE: Just like the ff.net list, I did NOT include anything from the authors I recommended because these lists are just ginormous.

NOTE: I did *not* include warnings, pairings, etc in these summaries (too many tags to try and organize in the messy copy/pastes). Read the tags if you have any sensitivities/squicks/etc for all links!

Most anything by CaffieneKitty (over 100 shorts, so some I really love, others I can pass. Well worth checking out)

Anything by dragonnan if you want a huge wallop of angst. Also illustrations. Also writes in the MCU.

Anything by Jolie_Black (You thought stories written in script could only be bad? You thought WRONG. Very very canon-compliant goodness).

Anything by sgam76 (another multi-genre writer)

A Freak Adventure by dioscureantwins Words: 13,719 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes Sally Donovan John Watson Mrs. Hudson Oh Christ, the Freak will be like a dog with two tails if she turns to him for assistance. Sally can feel her hands curling into fists ready to punch the condescending smirk off his face as she glares at the lift panel, willing the lift to go faster. But this is about Susy, Sally tells herself, not about him or Sally’s abhorrence of the atrocious git. She’s still convinced he gets off on it but he can wank himself into a stupor over Susy’s disappearance for all she cares as long as he finds her.

A Smelly Affair by dioscureantwins Words: 13,756 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mrs Hudson Greg Lestrade Molly Hooper Anthea Mycroft Holmes Sherlock had published an interesting thesis on the splintering of various woods on his website. As well as an equally fascinating treatise on different types of ropes and knots and the best techniques for securing someone. Obviously, his captors had followed those instructions to the letter; thereby disproving John’s theory nobody took notice of Sherlock’s website. A victory, perhaps, but one Sherlock felt he could have done without. Trust his readership to turn the tables on the author. Morons.

Constantly by thesignsofserbia Words: 4,530 Chapters: 1/1 Mature Sherlock Holmes Mycroft Holmes Mycroft and Sherlock have a tenuous relationship at best, but with Sherlock taking down Moriarty's web, they might need each other more than they'd care to admit.

Croatia-Water-Blue by hollyesque Words: 12,117 Chapters: 1/1 Not Rated Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes “I…” John licks his lips, twitches his fingers as though he wants to reach out, “I’m here, Sherlock,” he says; “I know I haven’t been, but…but I am now.” Sherlock wrinkles his nose. Haven’t been—? “What on earth do you mean, you haven’t been here?” he asks, “You’ve been living here.”

Getting to Know You by Dimity Blue (Arnie) Words: 4,605 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes John picked up the kettle. "Nothing from Lestrade?"Sherlock flipped himself over on the sofa and presented John with his back; John sometimes felt he was living with a cat.Clicking the switch on the kettle, John grinned to himself and, keeping his tone casual, said, "Maybe you could send him an owl."There was silence for a few seconds, then Sherlock asked, "Why would I send him an owl?"

Landscape With The Fall Of Icarus by CaitlinFairchild Words: 4,572 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes Mycroft Holmes John Watson Closing his eyes, Sherlock allows himself a brief swell of feeling--let’s not put a name on it, just call it a feeling--for his big brother. He knows that when Mycroft opens that steel door again, every man now inside will be a fresh corpse.The East Wind will take them all, Sherlock thinks fuzzily, before the curtain of sleep descends.

London Orbital by merripestin Words: 13,642 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Greg Lestrade Sally Donovan Sherlock Holmes John Watson "I'm driving first," Sally said. "Guv can take over after me. If we're all still mad enough to be at this after that, John can drive third shift. Then the freak, if we decide we can risk it.""John doesn't drive," said Sherlock."Then what's John along for?" Sally protested. Which Greg reckoned had to be just Sally trying to wind Sherlock up. She knew better. All night in a car with Sherlock was bad enough. All night driving round and round the M25 looking for a killer, with Sherlock deprived of John Watson, sounded like a new circle of hell.

Official Recruiter by Captain_Author Words: 49,469 Chapters: 21/21 General Audiences Clint Barton Phil Coulson Sherlock Holmes John Watson Stephen Strange Crimes were so simple before aliens, gods, and supernatural abilities made themselves known. But Sherlock Holmes never enjoyed simple and these inhumans and mutants provided quite a challenge. SHIELD needed someone to find the superpowered. Funny how both their needs can be met.

Rigging screws, size 1 3/8 inch, galvanised by AJHall Words: 15,250 Chapters: 6/6 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson "How's a woman supposed to prove her husband's a murderer, dammit?" On the eve of a planned voyage to Brittany, Marjorie Jameson starts her day with no problems more pressing than forcing a boatyard to do an emergency repair to the family yacht. A chance encounter at the Cowes hi-speed ferry terminal begins to unravel a web of conspiracy and murder, with her charming, untrustworthy husband Julian right at the centre and Marjorie as the next intended victim.But no-one's going to trust the word of an aging housewife whose complaints of abuse the police have previously dismissed as delusions.

Somewhere in the Dinaric Alps by drpepperdiva91 Words: 1,735 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Sherlock is caught off-guard by a flashback to his time in Serbia, just before John arrives home from work. Sweet, but still semi-realistic, hurt/comfort.

The Case of the Missing Bus Ticket by Unsentimentalf Words: 10,543 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Dirk Gently Sherlock Holmes Richard MacDuff John Watson Mycroft Holmes When Dirk and Richard's new client inexplicably fails to stay alive long enough to pay them, their ailing finances mean that a certain amount of subterfuge is required to get them back to London. The sudden death of their client has, however, attracted the attention of another rather more famous (if less holistic) detective and the stage is set for a long distance bus ride of suspense…

The Green Blade by verityburns Words: 72,929 Chapters: 15/15 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Lestrade (Inspector) Mycroft Holmes Sally Donovan Anderson (Sherlock) Mrs. Hudson As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit... WARNING: COMMENTS CONTAIN SPOILERS!

The Holiday by Scriblit Words: 18,962 Chapters: 9/9 Mature Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes Mrs. Hudson Greg Lestrade Molly Hooper Mary Morstan ACD Canon Characters A month following an horrific, sadistic attack during a case, Sherlock is still physically incapacitated and emotionally damaged. A holiday is suggested, but even stuck out in the middle of nowhere, he and John happen upon a case that could make Sherlock begin to feel like his old self again - or could kill him.BBC Sherlock Reworking of ACD's Devil's Foot, with Illustrious Client in flashbacks. Scenes of violence and implied "off screen" sexual violence/sexual assault.

The Shallow End by hollyesque Words: 6,923 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes "I told you once that I don't have friends," he says to John's back, "Now you know why."

The Silence of the Bees by trappedinathoughtbubble Words: 14,169 Chapters: 7/? Mature Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mary Morstan Mary Watson Greg Lestrade Mycroft Holmes A kidnapped teenage girl. A political conspiracy. Bees. And somehow in the midst of it all, John learns a few things Sherlock forgot to mention about those two years. Note: Not completed, but the author's around and one of the sweetest people ever if you want to give encouragement to take a look again at this story!

The Triple Bluff by SarahKnight Words: 28,331 Chapters: 8/8 Mature Sherlock Holmes Greg Lestrade Mycroft Holmes Sally Donovan Philip Anderson Sherlock annoys his landlord at Montague street, grows to hate Donovan and gets into trouble a lot on a kidnapping case involving a woman who bullied him as a child.The events leading up to A Study In Pink. A case fic that answers questions from the first episode such as why Sherlock had to leave Montague Street and find a new flatmate, why he and Lestrade both quit smoking but didn't know the other had, why there's so much animosity between Sherlock and Donovan, and why Sherlock hates traveling in a police car.

Welcome Home by thesignsofserbia Words: 3,435 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mrs. Hudson Mycroft Holmes "All my nightmares escaped my head. Bar the door, please don’t let them in. You were never supposed to leave. Now my head's splitting at the seams."

And of course I have my own Sherlock/Doctor Strange crossover up on AO3 if that tickles your fancy, illustrations and all. :D

But if you haven’t delved deep into the fandom, this should tide you over for some time.

This list is by no means an exhaustive list of recs. I didn’t really include anything that concentrated on a romantic pairing, for instance. I left off anything explicit as well. But yeah, here’s a small amount of the overall goodness produced by the BBC Sherlock fandom over the last 10 years.

#neutronstardust13 #long post #bbc sherlock #fic rec #sherlock holmes #john watson #gen fic #genre: humor #genre: angst #genre: fluff #crossover #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #martha hudson #ask #answered

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clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

Note

mayhaps,,,backseat serenade for a prompt?? (don’t ask me to pick a specific part bc i am Indecisive) also for any pairing but i am partial to malum

OKAY hear me out. i know you said malum and i will happily write this with malum if you want but this song is a muke song to me. and since ive never written muke (!! it is a night for debuts eh) i figured. may as well give it a go. in this low stakes tumblr prompt fic environment. SO here we have it. the closest ill probably ever get to writing smut without writing smut <3

Luke’s on his third drink when he sees Michael across the room, and Michael catches his eye. Luke lifts a hand, gesturing for him to come over, which is a bad idea, because he’s drunk, and Michael’s definitely drunk — he’s been drinking whiskey all night; weird choice but there’s no explaining Michael — and Luke and Michael are notoriously lacking in self-control when drunk, but now Michael’s already coming over and it’s too late to take it back.

“Hey hey hey,” Michael slurs as he leans against the bar, crowding already into Luke’s space. His breath smells of whiskey, and Luke wishes that were enough to turn him off it, but it’s very much not.

“Hey back,” Luke says. “Having fun?”

Michael barks a laugh. “Fuck no. Are you?”

Of course Luke’s not having fun — it’s why he’s sitting at the bar. “No,” he says, trying and failing to refrain from saying what he wants to say next. “But I could be, now.”

Michael smiles. “Worst chat-up line I’ve ever heard in my life,” he says, coming around Luke and using his shoulders to spin him around on the barstool. “Try again.”

“Who said anything about chat-up lines?” Luke blinks up at Michael, wide-eyed and innocent. It’s gotten him before and it’ll work again. Luke wishes he didn’t know that so well, but Michael licks his lips and they’re here again like they’ve been too many times before.

“Got me there,” Michael breathes, leaning in. Luke leans away instinctively and his back presses into the bar.

“Maybe I just needed a friend,” he says weakly.

“I bet you did,” Michael says, watching him carefully.

It’s no use. They’re caught in the web already. Struggling against it will be in vain, so all that’s left to do is sink deeper and hope that it’ll dissolve by morning.

Luke pushes himself off the seat so swiftly that Michael stumbles backwards. Good, Luke thinks with relish, because Michael loves to push him around and sometimes it’s Luke’s turn. “Your place or mine?”

Michael chews on his lower lip. Luke suddenly finds it hard to breathe. “Yours.”

Luke orders an Uber and they leave the bar to wait for it. The summery nighttime air is warm with just a hint of a breeze, and Michael hangs off him the whole time they wait, pressing butterfly kisses to his jaw with deceptive gentleness.

(Michael’s never gentle with him. It’s why Luke keeps coming back — or at least one of the reasons. Maybe he needs to be reminded that he can take it. If Michael can’t break him, nobody can. And Michael’s awfully good at pushing his limits.)

Luke feels badly for the Uber driver; Michael kisses Luke the moment they slide into the backseat of the car. The radio is on, something loud and angry playing through the speakers. Distantly Luke thinks he’ll definitely leave a generous tip, although presently all he can think about is Michael’s mouth on his, and wishing Michael’s mouth were doing other things, although those things should definitely wait until they’re no longer in the backseat of a car.

“Michael,” he manages, trying for scolding though he’s sure it comes out desperate. Michael pulls back, at least for a moment, hooded eyes gazing into Luke’s own. “Slow down.”

“Slow down?” Michael repeats, sounding deeply unimpressed. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“We’re in an Uber,” Luke hisses. “We’ll be back at mine in five minutes.”

“Mm,” Michael says. “That’s five too many, if you ask me.”

He presses back into Luke, pushes him into a messy kiss, and Luke tries, really tries to stop the way he melts into it, but it’s fucking impossible. Kissing Michael is his main source of relief, the antidote to all of his pain, and every time they kiss Luke hurts a little less all over. The world is bitter and frequently out to get him, but Michael is a welcome reprieve, someone hungry and immediate to deal with, enough to take Luke’s mind off all the shit he’s trying to ignore about his life and focus just on this.

Five minutes does turn out to feel like an eternity, and Luke doesn’t even wish the driver a goodnight because he’s almost too embarrassed to even acknowledge the ride happened. That concern quickly flies from his mind when Michael essentially manhandles him to the door, and Luke fumbles with the lock just enough to remember that he is, in fact, rather drunk, and so is Michael.

(But what is life for if not making stupid decisions about sleeping with your bandmates slash best friends when you’re wasted?)

Michael all but pushes Luke through the door once it’s open, at which point Luke decides he’s had enough of that, and spins on his heel to pin Michael to the back of the door. Breathing hard, trying not to become completely incoherent from Michael’s disheveled state, he says, “Be fucking patient.”

Michael juts his chin out, so casually defiant that Luke’s heart stutters in his chest.

(Which is wrong. This isn’t supposed to be a matter of the heart — Luke’s heart should have checked out by now, but it’s still here, watching and waiting for Michael, hungry in a different way. This should be a physical affair, the way it’s been every time before, but Luke can’t help the leaps and bounds in his ribcage, only do his level best to ignore them.)

“Make me,” Michael says, around a delicious smirk.

They’re in Luke’s house, though, and the time for patience is past, and anyway, Luke is probably stronger than Michael but he’d much rather be on the other side of this hold, and they both know it.

The song from the radio still on repeat in Luke’s head, he leans in, and Michael meets him halfway, a battle they fight over and over with no clear victor.

Luke wakes up in bed, Michael snoring lightly across his bare chest, sunlight streaming in through the windows, a furious headache behind his eyes. This, at least, is familiar. The unfamiliar piece is the dull thud of Luke’s heartbeat picking up speed as he registers Michael in bed with him.

It’s not as if they haven’t woken up like this before. It’s not like they’ve never shared a fucking bed, notwithstanding whether or not they’d just fucked. Luke feels vulnerable, laid bare; even though it’s impossible for Michael to know what he’s thinking, Luke is nervous that Michael will know.

As if summoned by Luke’s thoughts (an idea that doesn’t put Luke’s nerves at ease), Michael’s eyes flutter open, and he yawns.

“Hi,” he says, looking up through tired eyes at Luke.

(Luke has learned to reconcile the Michael from last night with the Michael from this morning. They’re not the same person, but then again, neither is Luke.)

“Hi,” Luke says. He closes his eyes. The light is doing absolutely nothing for his hangover. “We should try and remember to close the blinds.”

“Fucking amen,” Michael grumbles. “I’m blaming you. It’s your house.”

Luke would have remembered if he hadn’t been so distracted by a certain someone, but he’s pretty sure they have an agreement not to really talk about it, so he doesn’t say that. Instead, he says, “I’ll make breakfast if you ask really nicely.”

“Make breakfast or I’ll TP your house,” Michael says, burying his face in Luke’s side. “I know where you live.”

Luke smiles and huffs a laugh. “Try again.”

“Don’t make breakfast,” Michael says. He tilts his head and looks at Luke. “Don’t get up yet. Come on. Go back to sleep. We don’t need to get up.”

Luke stares. This is uncharted territory. Michael’s not supposed to ask him to stay. Michael’s not supposed to ask to stay.

“I have to, um,” Luke starts, still staring at Michael as Michael stares back. There’s a challenge in his expression but also something pleading about it, something vulnerable and on the whole very unlike any version of Michael that Luke knows.

“Close the blinds?” Michael finishes for him, offering him a soft smile.

Luke catches his breath. “Yeah. And then we can go back to sleep.”

Michael flops onto his back, releasing his hold on Luke. Luke feels cold, and quickly slides out of bed and crosses to the windows. Shutting the blinds throws the room into a much dimmer light, and he takes a second to adjust his eyes before ambling back over to his bed and crawling under the sheet.

Michael immediately tucks himself against Luke’s side, fitting so comfortably that Luke can’t believe he’s been sleeping all this time alone. It makes sense, and it feels right, and Luke’s chest feels full to bursting with the fact that Michael hasn’t left. Michael is still here, breaking every rule they’ve written for themselves.

So Luke ducks his head and presses a kiss to Michael’s hair. (Because what’s one more?)

“Mm,” Michael hums contentedly, looking up at Luke. “I’d kiss you if I cared enough to reach you, honest.”

“Could just ask,” Luke says lightly. “I’m very accommodating.”

“Oh, I know.” Michael grins. The rulebook is in tatters; Luke thinks, fuck it, and shuffles down in bed to kiss Michael. Somehow this one, more than all of the other ones they’ve ever had, makes Luke’s stomach churn. Michael tastes of stale whiskey and salt and morning breath, a mixture that should be atrocious but for some reason isn’t.

Michael smiles again when he pulls away, sleepy through half-lidded eyes. “I’m sleeping ‘til this hangover goes away on its own. Hope you didn’t have plans.”

Luke can’t find it in him to come up with any kind of witty retort. “Okay,” he says softly. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” Michael answers with a yawn, and within moments he’s back to sleep.

Luke falls asleep soon after. It’s much easier to fall asleep, he finds, with someone else curled up in bed with him, especially when that someone is Michael. Luke thinks about potential energy and drifts off with a smile.

#THIS IS WILD MY VERY FIRST MUKE #somewhere in the world helen is mourning #michael clifford #luke hemmings #muke #muke fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #THIS IS SO EXCITING #anonymous #ask #answered

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muertawrites · 4 years ago

Text

The Lovers of Ba Sing Se - Part 2 (Zuko x Reader) [Modern AU]

Part 1

Summary: You finally reunite with Zuko after the war, standing up to those from his past who would rather you stayed in Ba Sing Se.

Word Count: 3,200

Author’s Note: As promised, I finally wrote a fic where my self-insert self gets to proverbially smash Mai’s head in with a baseball bat. Before those of you who disagree flood my inbox with arguments, please reference this post for an in-depth explanation as to why I dislike her so much. I’m tired of having to explain this to people and like honestly, I’m just a person on the internet and this is just a show (a great show, but a show nonetheless) - my opinion about her should not matter enough to you that you feel the need to take the time to go into my inbox and try to change it. There are better, more important things to devote that time to. Plus, a few people have asked to see the relationship from Zuko’s perspective, so I’ve written it as someone who has lived much of the same kind of trauma he did. This fic is truly just catharsis for myself and it is so fucking sweet.

~ Muerta

You stood in the courtyard outside Zuko’s room in the palace infirmary, leaned against the wall beside its window and chewing your nails down to their stubs.

You’d been in the Fire Nation for a little over two months, living in the servants’ district of the imperial city and supporting yourself by working for a high end dry cleaner that catered to the wealthy and diplomatic who lived around the palace. When the siege began, you scoured the streets searching for Zuko, finding him when his confrontation with Azula ended in a massive explosion that lit up the skyline like a nuclear bomb. You made it to the palace just as Katara - who you’d met when you’d thrown yourself over Zuko’s unconscious body, distraught and fearing him dead - determined that she’d be able to heal him. You’d been stationed outside his room since then, unable to sleep or eat for the twelve excruciating hours Katara and the other healers spent working on him; it was near morning now, purple hues starting to burn the edges of the midnight sky.

Katara finally stepped out, looking as exhausted as you felt. Her hair, knotted sloppily atop her head, fell in tangles around her face, her eyes drooping from exertion and lack of sleep, but she thankfully didn’t seem upset. She sunk down beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“He’s going to be alright,” she assured you. “He’ll scar pretty badly, but he’ll make a full recovery. You should get some sleep; I can ask someone to get a room ready for you if you want?”

You sniffed, wiping a nervous tear from your cheek.

“Can I stay with him?” you asked meekly, sounding not unlike a lost child asking for help from a stranger. “I just want to see him.”

Katara nodded, gently lifting you upwards as she stood and guiding you into Zuko’s room.

He lay on his back on a large, plush bed, wrapped in bloody bandages from his shoulder to his stomach. His hair was longer, falling in messy strands around his cheekbones, jaw, and neck, which all looked much more gaunt than you remembered. He also looked older, as if the months of running he’d done had aged him years instead of just weeks. Your eyes stung with tears, hands shaking as you reached up to your chest and clutched his necklace beneath the fabric of your shirt.

“I’m having a cot and some blankets brought for you,” Katara told you after mumbling something to one of the nurses. The room began to clear out, and she sat with you on a chaise that backed up to one of the far walls; the room felt more like a grand master suite than a hospital room.

“Are you the girl from Ba Sing Se?” Katara asked quietly, taking one of your hands in both of hers. You nodded, keeping your misty eyes locked on Zuko’s sleeping form.

“He talks about you all the time,” she told you. “We haven’t seen him happy all that often, but he always looked it when he told us about you. He’s really missed you.”

You smiled a little, taking a shallow, gasping breath in.

“I’ve missed him, too,” you said, voice quivering. “I’m livid, but I’m glad he’s okay.”

Katara sighed, her lips curling up just slightly with amusement.

“Yeah, he was worried about that,” she replied. “But if you mean as much to him as it sounds like, it’s worth forgiving him. I can tell he loves you, even if he’s never admitted it to any of us.”

The nurse Katara spoke to before returned, carrying a foldable cot and a sleeping roll, setting it up under the window beside Zuko’s bed. She made everything up for you, fluffing the pillows and smiling kindly at you as you approached, thanking her.

“We can get you some clean clothes,” Katara offered, standing in the threshold to the courtyard. “Do you need anything else?”

You shook your head, giving her a spent, appreciative grin.

“I’m okay,” you told her. “My apartment is in the city. I’ll send someone to get my stuff later.”

Katara nodded, wishing you pleasant dreams before slipping out the door, sliding it softly shut behind her. You fell back against the cot, not even managing to take off your shoes or tuck into the blankets before falling asleep.

When you woke, you found the bag you left Ba Sing Se with resting against the wall beside your cot, pinned with a note from Katara’s brother explaining that he’d taken care of having your belongings retrieved while you slept. A table had been set up nearby, stacked with lidded dishes - each one held rice, pickled vegetables, and a traditional omelette. You took the container of rice and crossed your legs atop your cot, slowly filling your empty stomach as you allowed the sleep to ease out of your heavy eyelids.

Halfway through your little meal, Zuko stirred, whispering your name and sending you careening to his side.

“Zuko,” you gasped, clutching his hand and holding it tight against your chest. He blinked heavily, his dreary expression brightening as his vision cleared and he realized he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating.

“How did you get here?” he murmured, head swimming with confusion. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Only about a day,” you told him, speaking slowly as you brushed his hair back off of his forehead. “I've been here since a little after you left to join Aang. I wanted to meet you when you came back.”

Zuko attempted to sit up, dizzying himself but unconcerned with his own state, instead worrying only for you.

“You smuggled yourself in?” he slurred, still hazy with sleep and pain medication. “Why would you do that?? Do you realize how fucking dangerous that is??”

You laughed softly, tears rising behind your eyes as you placed a hand on the uninjured side of his chest to lower him back onto the pillows.

“Stop being so concerned about me,” you scolded him. “It's making it really hard to stay mad at you.”

Zuko sighed, his exasperated expression falling into one of deep regret as he curled his fingers with yours, grasping your palm tightly against his.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “I was an idiot. I felt like an idiot the moment I left Ba Sing Se. I should never have betrayed you and Iroh.”

You hushed him, bringing his knuckles to your lips.

“You are an idiot,” you admitted, “but we can talk about that later. Right now you need more rest.”

He nodded, removing his hand from yours to stroke your hair, running his fingers through it in the same tender, delicate way he did in the mornings you used to wake up together. The action made you shiver, stirring up more tears.

“I'm sorry,” Zuko mumbled again. “I'm so, so sorry. I love you.”

Zuko healed quickly over the next few days. You spent all your time by his side, being offered your own room multiple times but always declining it, having missed him so much that you didn't want to be apart. Instead of the cot, Zuko made room for you in his bed, and it almost felt as if things were back to the way they'd been before.

As soon as he was coherent enough, Zuko explained himself to you. He told you about how conflicted he felt after returning to the Fire Nation, how reuniting with the people within it only proved to him how spiteful and miserable they made him. He told you about confronting his father, about earning the trust of his friends and finally learning how to exist among people who didn't use and manipulate each other for their own gain.

He told you about Mai, his retelling of the events at Boiling Rock filling you with rage.

“How could you let her do that to you?” you howled, eyes flashing wild with hatred. “You just sat there and let her turn your own problems against you? After everything you went through??”

You frustratedly slammed your hands down on the table you both sat at, knocking over the teacup you'd previously been drinking from.

“If she comes here, I’ll kill her,” you growled.

“Babe, please…” Zuko attempted to quell you. You held your hand up, fixing him with a steely glare.

“No,” you snapped. “You know how long I suffered that shit. How my closest friends turned every hurt feeling I had around and convinced me I was the one causing harm to them. You know how badly it fucked me up - it's the exact same thing your father did to you, Zuko. Just because she called herself your girlfriend doesn't give her the right to abuse and gaslight you like that and get away with it. If you don't stand up for yourself against her, I will. I refuse to let anyone get away with that bullshit anymore.”

As fate would have it, Mai did show up to try and reclaim her hold on Zuko - little did she know she was stepping into a dragon’s den, in which neither inhabitant was likely to let her come out unscathed.

You were moving with Zuko back to his chambers, which had been renovated while he was in the infirmary; he requested that everything be taken out and redesigned so that each room was unrecognizable, wanting to let go of the horrible memories that lay within them. You helped him into a silken robe, slipping it over his injured arm and lightly pecking his lips - the moment was broken by a raspy, grating voice cutting through the peaceful morning din.

“I never thought you were the type to rebound so fast, Zu.”

Zuko’s face hardened, and you whirled around, knowing before he even said her name who was bold enough to intrude on your moment of intimacy.

“And after I spent four months in prison for sacrificing myself to save you,” Mai drawled, glaring at you from under her bangs. “You really did want to break my heart, didn't you?”

Zuko took hold of your arm with his uninjured hand, attempting to keep you back - you shoved him off, unable to obscure your rage. You prowled forward, stopping a few feet from Mai and looming over her in the threshold, holding yourself high.

“Leave,” you spat lowly, calmly, but with force. “There's no place for you here.”

“Says the the Earth Kingdom trash being used as a fuck toy,” Mai jeered at you.

She didn't realize her mistake until it was too late.

Without a second thought, you raised your hand and slapped her across the face, digging your nails into her skin as you struck her. Zuko jolted, curling his good arm into a fist, ready to defend you; Mai stared up at you with wide eyes, shocked, holding a hand to her cheek.

“Don't you dare speak to me that way,” you hissed. “How dare you think you can come back here so easily after everything you did to him?? How dare you turn his trauma against him and make him feel as if you were the one being wronged, when you knew exactly the situation he was leaving?? How dare you contribute to it by staying faithful to his psychopathic sister until his life was at risk - not even for the first time, just when you could finally see him being threatened?? Get out. You're done using him for your own validation.”

Mai let out a primal cry, striking you back with a palm to your cheek - she hit you so hard you bit the inside of your mouth, causing blood to trickle over your bottom lip and down your chin.

“He wasn't the only one who was hurt!” she shrieked at you. “Do you know how hard it was for me growing up in a family that didn't let me be myself?? How painful it was to have to suppress myself?? I don't care what you think I did - I love Zuko, even if I don't always show it because of everything I've suffered from showing people how I feel.”

You spat the blood pooling in your mouth at her, squaring your shoulders. Her sudden outburst didn't scare you - you refused to back down.

“If you loved him, you wouldn't have let your own pain hurt him,” you stated. “I've been broken to the point of facing death, but I never once let my anger or insecurity hurt the people I love. People who truly care about others don't repeat the cycle of abuse - you're too weak to overcome it. And it has no place here.”

In a swift motion, Mai slammed her forearm into your chest and drove you backward, crashing your shoulders into the wall behind you, hard enough to knock the wind out of you.

“Mai!” Zuko shouted, advancing in an instant and reaching to try and force her off you; she produced a knife from her back pocket, raising it to your neck in a silent threat to slice if he attempted to touch her. She pinned you where you stood, pressing the blade of her dagger to your throat with her face only inches from yours; the red marks you noticed your nails had left in her flesh gave you a morbid, loatheful satisfaction.

“Do it,” you dared her, defiantly holding her gaze. “It still won't convince him to take you back, or make up for anything that you've done.”

She glowered at you for a long, tense moment, tears brimming in the nooks of her eyes. She shifted towards Zuko, still holding you down with all her strength.

“Please, Zuko,” she begged. “I know you can forgive me.”

Zuko shook his head, gazing down at her with a somber, pitiful expression.

“I have forgiven you, Mai,” he told her. “There's just no way I can forget.”

Another moment of awful, biting strain passed before Mai backed off of you, shoving her arm deeper into your sternum before releasing you. You gasped, heaving in to try and catch your breath as Zuko’s arms formed a shield around you, steadying you against his chest without a thought towards his own wounds. He held you close, unwilling to ever let go.

“Have it your way,” Mai drawled bitterly as she walked away. “I'm sorry I couldn't be more to you.”

For a while, you didn't move, cheek pressed to Zuko’s chest with his hand at the back of your head in a firm, protective stance. He buried his face in your hair, still sheltering you like a fortress long after Mai had disappeared. You cried, the confrontation bringing all of your own demons back to life, but reminding you just how strong you were in the face of them.

“I've never seen her like that before,” Zuko murmured. “I'm sorry she tried to hurt you.”

You shook your head, pressing a chaste, benevolent kiss to his collarbone.

“I'm okay,” you assured him. “I just have that effect on people - for better or worse.”

Zuko chuckled, letting out a soft, relieved sigh as he tucked a finger under your chin, tilting your face up so he could look you in the eye. His thumb traced a gentle trail over your jawline, his lips coming to rest tenderly against your forehead.

“That's my girl,” he whispered.

Zuko asked you to marry him immediately after he was officially declared Firelord. You supposed that most men would have waited a day or two, taken you somewhere romantic and secluded and given a moving, heartfelt monologue, falling onto one knee and presenting a ring the cost of a small single family home, but not Zuko - he took ten steps off the dias where he was crowned and pulled you into his arms, kissing your fiercely and popping the question in front of his uncle, the Avatar, and half the Fire Nation government. You were terrified, never having given much thought to marriage and, whenever you did, dismissing the idea completely. But Zuko was the man you loved, and you trusted him with nothing short of your soul - there was nothing left to risk except a life spent by his side, so you said yes.

Instead of a large, public ceremony, you eloped, returning to the city you met in and getting married at the Jasmine Dragon. You wore your favorite black sundress and Zuko wore jeans, the celebration attended by his found family and a slew of your coworkers from the lolita bar (it was a bit embarrassing having to explain your former occupation to a group of people who saved not only the mortal world, but the spirit world multiple times, but to your relief they didn't seem too bothered by it - Sokka was even somewhat pleased, nudging and playfully congratulating Zuko on landing such a catch.)

You spent your honeymoon in the city, waking up the morning after your wedding to a view of the brilliantly sunlit skyline, Zuko standing on the balcony of your rented suite as a warm, delicate breeze tousled his hair. You rolled out from between the crisp white sheets, floating out to him in a drowsy haze so you could wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly from behind. He took your left hand in his, admiring the ring on your finger and tenderly kissing your knuckles; you pressed your lips to the bare skin of his back, peppering gentle, loving kisses between his shoulder blades.

“Let's stay here,” you mused. “You can be Lee again, and we can work in the shop with Iroh. Maybe we could even open our own shop - a used bookstore connected to the Jasmine Dragon. Momo can take over as Firelord.”

Zuko chuckled, turning so that he faced you, his arms coming to rest around your shoulders as he kissed the top of your head. His fingers ran through your hair in their familiar, affectionate way. You missed his touch; you were glad to be with him again.

“It does feel like home here, doesn't it?” Zuko hummed. “We have to help rebuild after the last government took over… Maybe we could stay longer. Look at houses around our old district.”

You smiled, kissing his jaw and savoring the scratch of his morning stubble against your lips.

Though you knew you'd have to return to the Fire Nation, that you would ultimately have to come to accept it as your own (which you could do, as it was home to Zuko’s people, a part of him you loved as much as the whole), you also knew that nothing could change your past, nor the bonds you formed while lost together in a city so foreign to you. You were lovers first on the streets of Ba Sing Se; but no matter how far you journeyed, whichever reaches of the globe you traveled, whoever happened to rule over them, you knew wherever Zuko was would always be home.

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klainebrittana · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 1 of seperated!

Enjoy!

Chapter 1!!

August’s pov

We ran around the table, giggling like the little children we were. That was all we had to worry about then, one tagging one another. We were 7 what more did you expect from us. She was my best friend. We were brought into the orphanage at the same time you see. Both abandoned like the others. We understood the pain the other was going through, we always had, always will. We both wondered the same questions, why would anyone ever give me up? Why did they do it? Didn’t they love me? We kept each other going, made each other laugh when we were sad. Kept each other alive. What I would do without her I don’t know. But in that moment life was good we had not a care in the world. No consequences, no troubles, now all I want is to go back to that. I want it so badly. I would do anything.

“I’m going to catch you.” I giggled.

“Not on my watch.” She replied before squealing as I pushed her down to the ground and tickled her senseless.

“Stop, stop.” She chuckled. I stood up and layed beside her. “Let’s be besties forever.” I whispered. “Forever.” She echoed. Then the matron came in. “Time for bed girls.” She smiled warmly. She was always so kind to us. She said we were her favorites. Now I know what a lie that was. She wouldn’t have done it if we were. She wouldn’t have forced us to make that decision. She wouldn’t have ruined our lives like that. She wouldn’t have ruined everything. I hate her for that and I will never forgive her.

We had our own dorm together. We had begged and begged and eventually we were allowed to. Together we made a sign out of paper that was stuck on the door with sellotape. It read May and August’s room, we found it hilarious that we both had names named after months. My name is August and hers is May by the way. The sign was rainbow striped and our handwriting wasn’t the best and it was all wobbly. We also hardly coloured inside the lines. I remember it vividly, like it was yesterday, even though it’s been years. We would talk late into the night; a lot later than we were supposed to. I have no idea how we always found something without fail to talk about. We spent every day together, what thing happened to us that the other couldn’t possibly know?

That night we stayed up until 1:00 AM in the morning. We created a fairytale together. I scribbled it down in my notebook as May helped me think of all the words I didn’t know. She was super smart for her age, way smarter than I was. I remember wishing and wishing I could be as smart and as pretty as her. It never happened though. She was always the better, prettier, less troublesome, version of me. I admired her so much for that. She inspired me to be a better, although not perfect person.

We sat there whispering, with a torch that I had bought a few days ago for this very reason. We were lucky we didn't get caught. Especially when we both started howling because I fell out of my bed. It didn't hurt, it was just hilarious. When that happened, we heard matron stir and we just had a moment where we stared at each other, eyes wide, I saw tears brim in Mays eyes, she was never told off, I slowly reached out and wiped her eyes, she gave me a small smile. Luckily Matron never came in but, in that moment, we were both so terrified. She never told us off, never raised her voice, excluding a few times at me. When there was silence again, we both let out a sigh of relief.

"That was close." She whispered and I replied with a quiet yeah. Then we carried on writing our fairytale, of which we had only written a paragraph of because we got distracted very easily.

I've kept the notebook ever since then, too many memories are contained in the pages for it to have been thrown away. I'll attach the story here. Later on in life I wrote messy notes all over it, which I will also include here.

Once upon a time there was a pretty princess called May. My idea as I was trying to tell her in a discrete way how beautiful I thought she was. She lived in a massive castle and had servants to help her do whatever she wanted. All she had to do was snap her fingers and they would come running. May said she had seen this in movies and books. They had to do whatever she said or she was allowed to send them to be executed. May had to explain to me what this meant. But one day an evil witch came to the castle. She kidnapped the beautiful princess! Now they needed someone to save her or her kingdom may go into chaos. In the end they sent her best friend. A poor servant called August. Although even though she was poor she was beautiful as well. Again, May's idea. August found her very easily and had to fight off the evil witch to save her. She did it quickly and then ran to get May. May thanked her and they were best friends for forever more. The end.

It's very short and not great but we enjoyed creating it and that was all that mattered.

May’s pov

I woke up at 6:30 AM and like I promised woke up August as soon as possible by jumping on her bed. It was my birthday! I was so excited as all young children are when that time of the year comes around.

"Happy birthday May!!" August screamed and I looked down at my feet embarrassed from all the attention. Even though it was coming from August. Then we both looked across to the door. One by one all of the other children in the orphanage walked through the door singing happy birthday. They were being quite rowdy and their voices were raspy and completely out of tune, it was sweet that they tried though. I chuckled. "Thaaannkk yoouuu" Then matron walked in rubbing her eyes, she was in a nightgown and I fought the urge to burst out laughing. I could see the others were in the same situation. Her cheeks were rosy red and her hot pink nightie dragged across the grubby floor.

"Why are you already awake?" She groaned.

"It's Mays Birthday!" Peter piped up and the rest of the group nodded animatedly. She sighed.

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that. Let me get ready then I've got a suprise for you all." All our faces lit up.

"What kind of suprise." I said.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Matron replied and winked as she spun and walked briskly out of the door.

I wonder what the suprise is." I said to August.

"Me too!!!" She replied. She was super excited. She was always so cute when she was excited. She would jump up and down or dance around. Or she would be grinning from ear to ear and speak really fast. She would also grab my hand and drag me everywhere with her. She would be clingy and on the verge of whiny. I didn't mind though. I was nearly always excited as well. And if I, wasn't I didn't mind entertaining it because she was my best friend, my sister. I could never stay angry at her for long.

The room was noisy. Thunderous almost. It was chock full of about 30 chattering children. It was so claustrophobic as well. Most people were pushed against walls or stuck in a group of people since it was only a small dorm room. I dreaded having to actually get out of the room. "Shall we go to our secret hiding spot?" I yelled to August. "Yeah, it's too noisy in here." She said, she'd grabbed my earmuffs and had clamped them on top of her ears. I had shaken my head giggling quietly. That silly girl.

We pushed through the crowd. No one even noticed we had gone. I guess they were all too intrigued by what Matron said. I looked at August behind me. She was giving dirty looks to the room. She hates loud noises and was very claustrophobic. I burst into laughing just looking at her. I remember it clearly now, like it was yesterday. August said “what” huffily. She had put on a fake scowl only so she wouldn’t laugh as well. It was still showing a bit though. I half laugh, half sigh at the thought of it. “You!” I replied. We could say stuff like that to each other because we were such great friends. “Have you seen what you look like? Giving dirty looks at the door and holding bright pink ear muffs against your ears, in summer, and holding on like you’ll die if you let go.” She let out a snigger.

“Ok fine that is pretty funny.” Then we both doubled over laughing.

We had about an hour to ourselves before Matron came in breathing heavily. “There you are girls; I’ve been looking for you for ages.” She said. “Sorry Matron.” We chorused. “Right,” she said sighing. She was still out of breath? “We need to go into the other room so we can leave. We are going to the theme park.” Me and August squealed and grinned at each other. Jumping up and down. The theme park! We have never been there before!

“Oh, my goodness May, the theme park!” August said to me. I don’t think I had ever seen her smile so much. This made me grin too. Seeing her happy, it made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside. “I can’t believe it, its really happening, after years of begging!” She punched the air in triumph. Then tried to shake her fringe out of her eyes. She had really short hair, a pixie cut. It suited her quite well. She had cut it herself. Matron refused to do it as it was too ‘boyish’ but August was having none of that. She stole the kitchen scissors that same night and cut it as well as she could.

August really was a tomboy though. I wasn’t apart from the fact I love to play video games. Me and August would sit for hours on end playing them. Our favorite one to play at that point was Minecraft. August though. She wore trousers, never skirts or dresses, plain black things or stuff to do with our favorite tv shows. We loved anime. Especially my hero academia and my promised Neverland. August also was very casual she would stand leaning against the wall with her hands in her pocket. She thought she looked ‘cool’ and at the time I thought she did as well. Looking back now is another story though. I’ll just say it did not look cool.

As we walked in the room, I noticed an increasingly worried look was appearing on August’s face. Her palms were getting clammy and she was trembling slightly. I squeezed her hand tighter and whispered in her ear “Don’t worry, the crowds won’t be too big, I promise, it will be fine.” August relaxed her posture and she gave me a small smile. “Now that’s the August I know.” I whispered and we carried on walking into the other room where everyone was standing.

“About time!” Alexa, the oldest, said. She wasn’t being horrible though she had a big grin on her head. “Now come her my little monkey.” She said and I had run into her arms as she gave me a massive bear hug. She squeezed me tight and I could smell her perfume. After approximately a minute I went back to August.

“Right get your shoes on everyone and we can go!” Matron shouted.

“Ok!!” We screamed back. Then everyone scrambled to get the shoes from the box. There was a lot of pushing and shoving, I had got Augusts for her. The room was actually quite big but as we all had to go to the same part it was chaos. When at last everyone had their shoes on, we left to go to the theme park. What we didn’t know though was how that trip would be the start of the horrific events to come.

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h2ojustaddmako · 5 years ago

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My Thoughts After Re-Watching Season 2

Hiya everybody. Sorry for the long times between posts. Working two jobs and keeping a social life, while also trying to sleep, eat healthy and get hydrated is taking a toll on this account. Bright side is, that because of the whole Corona situation, I might spend a lot of time home soon. So head-up, another headcanon/theory is coming this week, but just to break the hiatus, I decided to write today.

Every now and then, I decide to re-watch one of the three seasons of the show, just so I could have something to fill my time. So, recently I decided to watch season 2 again, and, as I like, pick up on some details, ideas or thoughts I didn’t get during previous binges. I’ve watched this season, like the others, around four or five times now since release, maybe more - and yet I’m still genuinely surprised at the things I notice or realize every time. So I figured I might turn it into a list of the good, the bad, and the plain interesting.

This list is in no particular order, I just write my thoughts as they go.

1. I am still BLOWN AWAY by how good the writing is on this show. It may not be an Oscar-winning script, but for a teen show of the early 2000′s it’s amazingly deep and well thought of, from every angle. That what makes my theories so fun to make, because they planted so much information throughout the shows that I genuinely enjoy picking out details and information from it.

2. To go into more depth, I really enjoyed all the different storylines they brought in throughout the 26 episodes. Look, twenty-six episodes is a lot for a TV series. Most shows release around 10, since long storylines are hard to follow and are easy to get messy. But while they added so many side stories (Max and the original mermaids, Ash and Emma, Cleo and Lewis’ breakup and Charlotte getting in between),. each of these stories merged with the main plot so well, and actually added depth to the story, making it more complicated for the characters, and more interactive for the viewer.

3. While the main focus for the season was the Cleo-Lewis-Charlotte relationship, both Emma and Rikki had their romantic paths taken as well. But unlike season 1, where the couples fought for screen time, this time those relationships were put to the side in favour of the main plot, which made them more slow-paced and interesting to watch. I enjoyed the fact that Emma and Ash stayed in the dark throughout the entire season, and that Zane only appeared when he was needed. Both are good characters, but not needed every time.

4. On the other hand, Cleo and Lewis’ relationship was handled very maturely all through the season. From when they dated, through the post-breakup, and all the way to managing being friends, the relationship was very well looked into and explored.

5. Might be a side thing, but I loved that Ash was actually figuring out something was off about Emma. One of my favourite lines by him was, “You realize none of this is natural. But you already knew that.” (Ep. 26) Mostly in shows like these, the character either never questions the weird occurrences around them, or the curiosity fuel the storyline (like Zane in season 1). The writer really wrote out of pure logic and not out of plot requirements, and I dig that little detail.

6. This one is felt throughout the entire show, but was most dominant during this one. The show is not about mermaids at all. This is written as a show about three girls and their coming of age process, and the things they have to deal with, one of them being turned into mermaids. But it’s far from being the only problem these girls have, and it’s showing when some episodes really struggle to squeeze in scenes of the girls in their tails for pure rating, even when the plot is not in need of any mermaid action. The girls have a very full and normal lifestyle aside from being mermaids. They go out, go shopping, have other friends, work, study and fail, deal with personal issues at home or with partners. The tails are just another part of their lives and I love it.

7. Episode 23 is a turning point for Charlotte’s character arch. I’ve spoken greatly before about how I feel like Charlotte is seen in our minds as the “bad guy” while she was a nice character most of her time on the show. And she was! Up until episode 23 when was never trying to hurt the girls. She may have acted out of jealousy before towards Cleo, but she was insecure and worried about her boyfriend. What should she think when her boyfriend spends a whole lot of time with his ex and fails to explain to her exactly why? The show did a great job showing the point of both sides in the argument between the girls and Charlotte, and showed the entire process of how their relationship turned into what it was. A lot of ego, assumptions, and false worries, and a lot of unfortunate events. Episode 23 was really a turning point because that’s where both sides of the fight were really right in different ways, things that led Charlotte to want to go on her own, and the girls to stay away from her. Charlotte acted the way she did because she felt like the girls were treating her badly (which she was wrong about sometimes, but they too hold the blame, mostly Rikki). From episode 24 and on, she started acting as the “bad guy” the show built her to be, and even then I can see her side. But enough on that.

8. Lewis is hot. Idk what’s up with Charlotte’s eyebrows.

9. One thing that feels off every time is how quickly Lewis started dating Charlotte. I don’t blame a guy for moving on quickly, I do find it weird that during the post-breakup from Cleo, he not only protected Cleo’s respect and jealousy by not flirting with any other girl, but also didn’t really seem like he was into Charlotte at all. She was a good friend at the beginning, then Cleo got in the middle, and for some reason, Charlotte did her best to rub it in Cleo’s face that she wants Lewis. But he never, for once, showed interest back until Cleo gave him permission to move on, and all of a sudden they’re dating. What I'm saying is that Lewis never seemed to like Charlotte romantically, like she liked him. So that was weird, they just never felt right together.

10. The reason Charlotte mastered her powers so quickly, at least in my eyes, is because that a) she had the girls to explain her at least the basics, and b) she didn’t put herself into a box of ‘this is what I was given’, bc she wanted to be better than Cleo at every cost. Her will power helped her master her powers. While the girls dealt with learning their boundaries and abilities and adjusting into the new life they got, Charlotte learned about mermaids before her transformation and knew what she was getting into.

11. The show never shied away from real-life issues, that may be considered inappropriate or harsh to the audiences the show is targeted at. Handling with divorce (and the outcomes of it!) and parents starting dating again (true story, Cleo’s way to handle with Sam’s introduction into her father’s life helped me cope when my mother started dating men a couple of years ago), while also showing signs of LGBT references (Nate mentioned people think Lewis is gay, in other words) or even sexual harassment and consent (both when Rikki was mad at Zane for kissing her against her will, and when Ash’s apology to Emma when he believed Lewis thought he was trying to have sex with her/spy on her showering, which to remind y’all, she was 16 while he was 18). It’s so brief I never noticed it before, but once I did, it was hard to miss.

12. And lastly, I just love how this show treats science. So much real life and true scientific information is included in the lines of the story, mainly by Lewis, but also by other characters like Will, Cleo, Lowrey, Max and Dr. Denman. When they wrote the entire base to what mermaids are and how they exist, they didn’t care it was a show for goddamn 9-year-olds, and that what makes it so interesting. If you’re not into science, let me tell you that every scientific blurb or word you hear on the show is 100%% real and makes sense within its context. From talking about marine biology, to referring to mermaids groups ‘pods’ (which is a group of marine mammals in scientific terms), to the science of “magic” and mermaids as a whole, the show knows what it’s doing is within the realms of possibility from a scientific point of view, meaning none of it is real, but it could be, in another life.

Anyways, if you have anything else to add, feel free! This is your list as it is mine. I just really love this show and I wish people appreciated it the same way we do. When I tell people I like this show they remember it as just another kids TV show, and it’s so much more than that.

Hope you’re having a great day, be safe, and wash your hands (just not in front fo people, keep the secret safe!)

Until next time, maybe not as far as you think. xx

#h2o just add water #lewis mccartney #cleo sertori #emma gilbert #rikki chadwick #Charlotte Watsford #zane bennett #Ash

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