#sorry my brain is fandom rotted so when i see writing that moves me i can only write fanfic in response

[yinyuedijun]

no one look at me if I write something for boothill based on that btw

[reverieblondie]

Seeking Advice

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Oral (fem receiving), Cum eating, Horn pulling?.

Summary: Asking out your crush can be difficult, Maybe you should seek advice from your friends on how to ask out your favorite wizard?

A/N: Look...I've been playing a lot of Baldur's Gate 3. Then this guy yelled at me and I fell. I have a thing for grumpy guys what can I say. Now do not worry! I still am writing for ATSV, TASM!Peter and my love Miguel, just I think I can squeeze the bg3 fandom on my blog. Trust I have plans for for all my fictional men. Plus I am working on request! Just had to get this story out, it was rotting my brain. Hope you enjoy it! Its kinda cheesy but its what I like, sorry.

Word Count: 6,957

The energy to the tavern is a welcomed one, All the noise you might have found irritating at a time is now a pleasant chime to your ears. How things can so easily change with time. Since becoming the city's hero many things have changed for you and your friends. The city is back to its wondrous glory. Finally, your life is starting to calm down, well for the most part… 

There is no longer a squirming in your head and the threats to the world's damnation are at the time eased, things should be perfect, and you should be happy riding an inexplicable high. You are happy for the most part, however there is just one thing that is causing you trouble now. It's the ache that swirls within you that only grows when you see him, the now master of Ramazith’s Tower, Rolan. 

The first time you felt it, it was simply a spark, harmless. It didn’t turn into this thrumming storm until the grove celebration after you defeated the goblin camp, and where he taught you his light spell. That night your fate was sealed, now as your friendship has grown you feel those glittering sparks storming through you more often. 

With a sigh, you rest your hazy head in your palm as you watch him with his siblings. The amber lights of Elfsong make his crimson skin appear as if it's glowing, he looks good in any lighting with his striking features but at this moment he looks damn near ethereal. You're acutely aware that you are staring at the trio, but in your buzzed haze from four wine goblets, you can not bring yourself to care. People are properly catching you staring like a lovesick fool; you will move your eyes eventually, you just want to watch for a bit longer. 

Rolan's journey to the city was different than yours but it was not without its hurdles, then when he got here he had to be met with the cruelty of Lorroakan. You won’t lie, you felt immense pleasure watching his spine get cracked in two for what he had done. Now with that horror over, the scars have faded and you see that Rolan is better, happier. He smiles just a bit wider and his eyes shine just a tad bit brighter. It only makes sense that the Tower and Sundries have become more successful with his influence, though you know he’s just happy that his family is now together and safe. 

Blindly you bring the metal goblet to your lips and taste the tang of the red wine nursing you through your pinning. The drink was meant to boost your confidence to go over there and shoot your shot for a date, but it only makes your head cloud into hopeless romantics. Why can’t you just ask him out? You can take on a horde of knols but you can’t bring yourself to confess to the guy you like? Doesn't get more pathetic than that…

Your eyes stay fixed on Rolan as he smirks and rolls his eyes at what Cal is saying, his clawed hand grabs his goblet and you watch as he brings the drink to his lips. Feeling looser from drinking you see as the red wine slightly escapes the side of his lips as he chugs the drink down. The deep red rolls down his jaw and you have to bite your lip from the thoughts that erupt in your mind. 

“Darling, you have got to stop staring.” 

With a sigh, you turn your head to your pale companion with a devilish smile on his face. With a roll to your eyes, you take another drink of your wine trying your best to play unbothered by Astarion as you can. 

“I wasn’t staring” 

“Tav, let's not be coy, you haven’t moved your eyes from a particular wizard since he strolled in. Sighing and squeezing your thighs together like that's going to help your ache.” 

The mentioning of the actions you thought were unnoticed makes your face blush from embarrassment. Asterion can only laugh at your fluster features as you look around the crowded tavern to see hints if others have noticed. 

“I- wasn’t, you don’t-” 

“Don’t be embarrassed, you could pick far worse. He’s a bit pompous for my taste, but the innocent little freckles on his face are pretty intriguing.” 

Astarion gives you a smirk as you whip your head to face him giving him a look of ‘back off’, though he is hardly intimated by you. 

“Relax, I am not going to take a bite out of your favorite wizard. I will leave that pleasure for you, however some advice, you won’t get him from just staring.” 

You hate to admit it but Astarion might have a point, you have been wanting to confess your feelings you just don’t know how. Looking at Rolan you rake your mind with your past chances to open yourself up but always seem to back out at the last moment, his rejecting you would be painful but being in this limbo is excruciating. You have to get your feelings off your chest for some inner peace. 

“Okay, Astarion…what's your advice?”  

Astarion's smile spreads to his lips and he sits next to you quickly, “My suggestion is you make it your mission to get that Rolan in your sheets, my dear. You obviously have had trouble getting your…” Astarion grimaces “Feelings for him out, so why not go the seductive approach?” 

You let out a laugh but Astarion just keeps his face neutral, “You think, I should seduce him? How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Simple, give him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Yeah like what?” 

Astarion looks over at Rolan, seeming to think before his face lights up, he quickly wraps his arm around your shoulder moving your chin to face Rolan. Then he whispers in your ear, “You're going to go over to him, very calmly…place your hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear very sweetly that you want to lick every ridge on his body.” 

Your mouth goes dry and eyes go wide at the thought…running your tongue…down…his��� You blush feeling your face grow hot, so hot you think it could be radiating off you. 

“A-Astarion…I-I can’t do that…” 

“Oh, but picture it, once you're done he will be so spent he will be the one confessing to you.” 

An image of a panting Rolan looking down at you with a fist full of your hair sparks in your mind. Hells, maybe Astarion has a point…he has had plenty of experience seducing people, but you? The thought only makes it so you can’t even move. Astartion picks up on your dazed state and with a nudge he pops you from it. 

“Lucky for you there's a creature in here I have had my eyes on, so just watch and learn,” 

“Wait, you like someone?” You say it a bit shocked,

Astarion gives you a look, “Focus on your own love life, huh?” 

With that, you say quite as you watch Astarion's ruby eyes land on a particularly pretty patron. With a smirk, he grabs your goblet keeping his eyes fixed on them like a predator studying its prey. Quickly downing your drink he releases a cool and steady breath then makes his approach. He practically glides across the room to them, very carefully he starts the conversation with a smile and you can already tell the person is interested. Do they know each other?

In What seems like a quick second he is placing his hand on their shoulder and leaning down to their ear. You can only imagine what he must be saying to have their faces fluster so quickly. Nobody quite had a way with words like him. Astarion leans back up to meet their eyes where they are feverishly nodding. 

With that, he starts guiding them to the exit while turning back towards you to smirk. Well, looks like it's your turn…

Picking up your goblet you see he did finish it, okay next step. Standing you feel all the alcohol you consumed immediately go to your head, deep breath, then go. Making your way over you try to not stumble into people as you push to your destination. Keeping your eyes on Rolan you rehearse the lines in your head over and over, as you get closer. 

Rolan almost like he can sense it then flicks his eyes to you, watching as you approach. Swallowing to ease your dry throat as you continue to make your way over still keeping your nerves despite your stomach being in knots. Then his lips curl into a slight smile and you freeze…shit…looking down at your hands reality hits you suddenly, you're drunk and about to proposition him, you can’t do this…he is just going to dismiss you… the thought makes your chest ache and the feeling of your drink coming back up. 

Looking back at him he tilts his head looking at you concerned smile fading and that's when the fear of rejection rushes you. Opening your mouth you go to say anything, maybe smile at him something to mask your panic but it fails. Your lips tremble and before you know it you're rushing to the exit. 

Finding the exit you look back to Rolan, he’s up from his table and seems to be trying to make his way toward you, he looks completely confused and maybe…hurt. You can’t do this…not when you're drunk and on the verge of puking. 

With that, you're pushing out of the tavern and running off into the cool night of the city. As you're running past one of the city's allies you catch in your peripherals Astarion with that person pinned against the wall as he kisses against their neck leaving them moaning into his hand. You must have caught his attention from your running, he looks at your fleeing figure and calls out to you. 

“I guess it didn’t go well?” 

You don’t bother to give him a response, his advice might have worked for him but you're going to have to try a different tactic. 

Note to self, do not try to drunkenly ask out your crushes, it only ends in you making an ass out of yourself and puking up all your stomach contents. Thinking back on it you can only think back on the look on Rolan's face…the confusion…the disappointment…Maybe you should go talk to him? You don’t want him to think that you're trying to ignore him. You were drunk and didn’t want to spill your guts all over him. Feeling freshly invigorated you decide that you should apologize for running off. Who knows maybe the conversion could lead to something.   

Arriving at Sorcerous Sundries you're not even fully sure if he would even be there, the tower might have been the better bet. However, your guess is shown to be a good one when you see Rolan placing some tomes on the shelves. Gods, you could watch him work for hours…his dexterous hands placing everything so carefully. As you watch you think you almost see his tail wag before he’s fixing it down. The smile it causes to your face can’t be helped, though he is always so composed he still slips at times. 

As you watch Rolan work you have the oddest sensation come over you that you too are being watched. Turning your head you jerk back slightly in surprise seeing that Lae’zel’s yellow eyes are piercing into you with her trademark intensity. It’s quite odd that she is in here, she's not one for spells but as you're looking past her you see that Shadowheart is with her thumbing through a tome. That makes more sense, you're happy those two have become better friends. Especially since they did try and kill each other. 

Smiling you give Lae’zel a smile with a wave, she only narrows her eyes more at you as you move to go talk to Rolan. Approaching his tall figure you're taking in every inch of him. 

He's beautiful, from face to physique, you watch as the muscles from underneath his robes flex from his movements. It’s funny wizards are not known for their strong builds but Rolan's arms and back are a dead giveaway to his hidden strength. Looking up you trace down the length of his horns to where they disappear into his soft chestnut hair, twisted in that half-up style. You wonder if you two get closer in the way you hope he will let you play with his hair, it appears so tantalizing and soft…everything about him is tantalizing… 

In your approach your mind is running through a quick daydream of running your fingers along his horns and through his hair; it causes you not to pay attention to where you are stepping. With the perfect explanation for the night at Elfsong in your mind, you're ready to smooth things over with him. Just as you're reaching out you suddenly see Rolan's shoulders shoot up teasing like something just hit him. Confused you lean forward more but that's when you feel it, something is wiggling under your foot.  

Looking down you see that your boot is crushing his poor tail underneath your weight. Mortified, you quickly step off of it. Karlach had told you how sensitive her tail was when she yelped when someone sat on it, so having it crushed underneath a boot sure is not a great feeling. Rolan's back stays teased as he turns slowly, his tail swiftly moving away from you to go to his hands. His eyes look as if he could thunder wave you out of the building. 

“I-I am so sorry Rolan, I- I didn’t see your tail.” you ramble out as quickly as possible

“How do you not see the appendage handed down from my-!” Rolan stops his yelling and takes a breath, his hands tightening on his tail. There is now a mark from where you stepped and you feel even worse. 

“Here let me-” Reaching out for his tail you are quickly stopped by Rolan holding up his hand and shaking his head. Rolan tail in hands starts walking away mumbling a language you don’t know. 

“I’m sorry!” You call out to his fleeing figure as he ascends the stairs. 

Running your hands down your face, your intentions of apologizing to him for Elfsong completely disappear as you make yourself look like a complete ass again to him. Looking through your fingers you see that not only is Lae’zel still staring at you but now Shadowheart has joined her in watching your screw-up. You make your way over to them with your head down silently standing with them as Shadowheart keeps at her browsing. 

After a couple of moments, you see Rolan coming back down to the shop, his eyes meet yours. A part of you thinks you should go back over to him and apologize but you don’t want to annoy him further so you give him an apologetic wave. Rolan just huffs slightly with a nod before turning his back to you to get back to work. Leaning against the shelved wall you let out a long sigh.

“What am I going to do…”

“You mean about your crush on the new master of the tower?” 

You turn your head to stare at Shadowheart for her comment but she doesn’t even bother lifting her eyes away from the spines of the tomes. 

“How…what…” 

Lae’zel cuts in “Your lusting is obvious, sighing with your head in the sky with your pathetic pinning,” -wow ouch…   

A stray giggle leaves Shadowheart and you're quick to narrow your eyes at her as she bites her lip to silence herself. Crossing your arms you look back at Lae’zel 

“I am probably going to regret this, but Lae’zel what is your advice? How should I go about asking Rolan out then?”

The question is intriguing enough to make Shadowheart put her tome down and look at Lae’zel as well. Lae’zel rolls her eyes for a second before folding her arms and moving her fierce gaze to where Rolan is now helping out a customer. Lae’zel eyes narrow at him, sizing him up as she studies him before she turns back to you with a huff.

“I would not ask, I would grab that teeth-ling by the horns and command him to do as I say.”  The direct advice makes Shadowheart burst into laughter drawing attention from people near you, though you can’t seem to meet their eyes because you're too busy giving Lae’zel a confused look. 

“I don’t think that would work with him…” 

“Tis’k, you do not know this unless you try. Now go grab him by the tail and mount him forming a flesh bond with your desired.”  

You're staring at Lae’zel gobsmacked while Shadowheart practically rolls on the floor with laughter. 

“Lae’zel! I can’t just mount him!” you whisper yell at her. 

“I don’t know, she might have something to the direct approach” Shadowheart soothes

You glare at her “Oh you're done laughing on the floor?” She smirks with a shrug, absolutely no help. 

“Fine, I will gather him for you.” -what?

Lae’zel starts going towards Rolan but you are quick to grab her and drag her out. As the puzzled patrons watch you carry out the githyanki fighter cussing you in her native tongue with Shadowheart trailing behind you, smirk on her face. You try to rush out as quickly as you can mortified that Rolan might be seeing the display. 

Once outside you put her down with an apology, Shadowheart quickly places a hand on Lae’zel’s shoulder to prevent her from cutting off your head. “Why not try talking to the guys for advice? Maybe they can give you the male perspective on things.” Shadowheart offers. 

Thinking for a moment you find that she might have a point, it might help to ask the guys for some advice.

Piercing your lips you study the smiling wizard in front of you waiting for your question. 

“Actually Gale I don’t know if I should ask you for advice on this.” 

Gale's face changes from a smile into hurt then moves to irritation, “Wh- and why not?” he practically huffs. 

“Because the last time you tried to get a person to like you you ended up with a bomb in your chest.” 

“Magic orb…” he mutters while Wyll laughs, nearly choking on his wine. 

“Okay, Tav what advice are you needing? We can try our best to help aid you.” Wyll smooths out the tension of the room. 

“Well…the thing is I need some advice on asking someone out. I figured our most intelligent and most charismatic party members would have some great advice.” 

Wyll and Gale look at each other like they can detect each other's thoughts before they turn back to you “You're talking about asking out Rolan aren't you?” 

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at the duo, “Who told you I was coming?” 

“Astarion and Shadowheart, they sang like canaries. Told us about your ...Mishaps” Gale says somewhat sing-songy. 

Sure he might have gotten a bomb in his chest but at least he got some for the goddess… And Wyll Mr. Prince Charming, half the girls in the city who were in love with him and his fancy footwork. Hopefully, they will have some good advice. You watch as the two men start pacing along rubbing their chins deep in thought. You appreciate they are taking this so seriously for your sake. 

“So have you at least tried? Asking him out? I know you two are pals but have you ever eluded to it.” 

You give Wyll an unamused look “Yeah I tried, but then something horrid goes wrong, I’m either stepping on his tail or about to puke.” 

Wyll nods trying to understand, “Maybe you could try to do an action, like an impromptu dance at the tavern between friends? The music is plentiful, and as you two sway along the music you can tell him with your eyes.” 

You watch as Wyll mimics the swaying of a dance keeping intense eye contact with you, but Gale comes behind him and places a hand on his shoulder stopping him. “Don’t think that will work with Rolan, he's….kinda dense…” 

Gale then lights up with the idea, “Why not ask him for some magic lessons? He can show you the ways of the weave and as you two flow through it, you can send him your thoughts.” 

You think for a moment, you have had him teach you magic before but…that was at the grove…and things were different. You hold that memory when he taught you his trick dear and you're about to agree to it. But you stop…if Rolan rejects you during that…it would ruin that spell for you forever…

“Yeah…he's a strict teacher…can we think of something else…Something that can explain how I feel but I don’t have to choke over the words too.” 

Gale and Wyll sit and think for a minute, then Wyll is snapping his fingers with an idea, “Why don’t you write him a letter!” 

You look at Wyll a bit skeptical, “A letter?” 

“Now that's the way to a wizard's heart, through the written word. Grand idea Wyll! Plus that helps with your shyness you can just hand him the letter! No conversion required!” Gale praises. 

You think for a moment, writing isn’t exactly your thing but it might be your only option left. Plus you're sure Gale and Wyll will help you through it! With a nod, you give them the okay and Gale is already conjuring up some paper and quill. They sit themselves on both sides of you and help you get through your thoughts. You thought it would be best to keep some more private feelings to yourself. They both seemed to be rather…really into letter writing, Gale helped fill the letter with praise of Rolan's grandeur with magic. While Wyll helps you spruce it up with flourishes about how your heart dances for him. It turned out a bit cheesy but Wyll and Gale seemed to have a good time. Maybe they should start a poetry club? 

Letter in hand you pace outside the shop, the letter was a great idea when Gale and Wyll were helping you write it but now… Now that you're here to give it to Rolan you're finding that familiar nervousness is eating away at you again. Peeking through the door you see that Rolan isn’t in the shop. It just seems to be his hologram today…Perfect! Now all you have to do is place it on the front desk for him to find later. That way if he isn’t into it you won’t have to meet his rejection immediately. The thought of Rolan looking at the letter and frowning pops into your mind, but you shake it off. Just place it down…easy…

“Tav! Hey!” 

Pausing you Turn around and see Karlach running towards you waving with a huge smile on her face. This is not good… It's not that you don’t want to see Karlach, she is amazing and you two have become incredibly close. The reason that this isn’t good is that Karlach isn’t exactly…subtle… Karlach is a complete badass but when it comes to love and romance she is a complete softie gushing about it to everyone. Wyll had told her about a crush of his one time and she had gushed about the story to anyone who would listen. It’s truly sweet that she loves love so much and gushes about her friends' conquest, but you're trying to be subtle here, placing the letter then leaving quickly, if Karlach finds out about it she's going to give you being here away.  

“Hello soldier, what are you doing loitering around Sundries? Waiting for someone?”

“Oh, no no…I just have this letter to give Rolan.” 

“Oh! What's it about?”  

“Just some questions about…spells…and curses…if he can detect the traces of the magical…What are you doing?” you quickly change the subject not being able to think of a good lie. 

“I was just at the Forge of the Nine catching up with Dammon, I had found some good iron ingots and wanted to give them to him, he could use them more than me anyways…” -oh Karlach you cutie

Karlach looks into sundries and appears to be looking around a bit, her smile slowly dies away before she turns back to you, “Well, I think you're out of luck soldier, Rolan doesn't seem to be around.”

You shrug trying to seem as unfazed as possible, “That's fine, I will just leave it on the front desk.”

“Or you could give it to-”

“No! No the desk will work, I mean…it’s important but he will find it.” you quickly interject. 

Karlach looks at you somewhat confused before she shrugs with a smile and follows you in. Finally, through the doorway, you quickly make your way to the desk and you feel…good! Finally one of your plans is going to work and you have Gales and Wyll's advice to thank! Maybe if this all goes well you will treat them to a drink at Elfsong. You will finally get your feelings off your chest, sure…it’s not exactly how you envisioned, but all the other attempts failed, this is easy and mess-free. 

Right as you reach the desk, something tells you to look up. Looking up you see Rolan descending the stairs wrapped up in whatever tome he is reading. He hasn’t seemed to notice you however so maybe you can just drop the letter and run-

“Hey Rolan! What udder luck, Tav has a letter for you!” -shit

Rolan looks away from his tome, eyes seeming to widen when he sees you and Karlach. You feel all the blood rush to your face as his eyes meet yours, you can’t quite tell if he is pleased to see you or not, kinda of appears to be…annoyed…or surprised? Damn that handsome studious face! 

Your hands tighten on the letter, you go to quickly place it on the desk and rush out but in the blink of an eye, the letter is out of your hand. Instead of it being in your hand or on the desk it's in Karlach’s hand as she is going towards the stairs…to Rolan…going to hand it to him! Oh, hells!

Rushing over to her you quickly snatch the letter from her hand. Karlach seems taken aback by your action, “Hey? What the fuck?” 

Karlach tries to take the letter back after you rudely snatched it. “Tav isn’t this for him?” 

“Uh…Yeah, but I changed my mind…”

“Changed your mind? But you said it was important?” 

Karlach goes to take the letter from you again but this time it is not so easy to take from your hand. Now in the middle of Sundries, you and Karlach are having a tug of war over a letter while Rolan looks at you two trying to piece together what is going on. With some quick moves on your part, you're able to shoulder check Karlach, not knocking her over by any means but just enough to cause her to loosen her hold slightly. 

Feeling successful you smile to yourself that you were able to get it back, but when you look back at Karlach your smile fades. Her eyes are narrowed and you see the hints of flames starting to spark around her, she looks pissed and you are about to get it. Looking up you see Rolan at the bottom of the stairs approaching you with a very irritated look, it makes sense you did have a fight in the middle of his shop. 

Shoving the letter down your pocket you do the thing that you only seem to know how to do nowadays, run. 

“Ohhhh…..so you wrote him a love letter….” 

“Yeah…I wanted to just leave it on his desk but…that didn’t work out….” 

You and Karlach sit on the stone wall looking out into the city watching the sunset. Of course, when you ran off she chased you down and demanded an explanation. You gave your explanation and that's how you are here now pouring your heart out to her. 

“Tav, I think you're going about this all wrong.”

“Oh? How do you figure?” 

“Well sure everyone giving their advice is nice but…I think you should just do what feels right to you. Instead of worrying about what he will say just…just stop being so scared and talk to him. Be honest. All these games, and trying to be sneaky isn’t how to do it. ” 

You take in her words for a moment before you speak, “So…you're telling me Lae’zel had the best advice? Being direct?” 

Karlach laughs “What I am saying is stop being so in your head Tav. Instead of talking to everyone else about this, just go talk to him. I promise it will be best that way.” 

“When should I do it?” 

Karlach hums then shrugs “Fuck if I know. Maybe it will just hit you.”

A smile spreads to your lips and you nod your head “Thanks Karlach, that...that's some really good advice…” 

Karlach smacks your back, basically knocking the air out of you. “Don’t worry I am here for all your relationship advice needs!” 

“So, how's Dammon?” you say coyly

“Oh don’t even start.” 

Laying in bed you think about all the advice your friends gave you and how all the advice had turned out. Why does this have to be so hard….

Looking outside you see how late it is, people all around are either asleep or going home to rest but as you lay you listen to the stillness of the city. Then your thoughts go back to Rolan. How you ache to be held in his arms…to get to look into those golden eyes on a dark still night like this. To talk to him about everything and nothing as his fingers gently caress your skin. You know you would so easily melt under his touch. How it would comfort you, how you want to comfort him. 

Rising from your warm bed you go to look out into the night of the city. With a click, you open the window and are met with the shivering cold of the night. A chill runs through you as you lean out and admire the star-dusted sky. For some reason, your thoughts go back to the night of the grove celebration. Rolan was being teased by his siblings as he focused on his fireworks show. They didn’t seem to be impressed but you clapped for him, before he gave some response about adoring fans there was a moment in his dark eyes where those golden fires shined just for you. That's when the glittering flickers within you started to storm. At the time you thought it was maybe residue from the magic, but now you know better. 

Holding your hands out into the still night you mimic the moves that Rolan taught you after a few goblets of wine after he got more comfortable around you or maybe just got tired of your begging. As you gesture you feel the fluttering of magic down your arms to your hands, motioning your arms up you release the spell. You used to call it just simple fireworks. Though after that night it now has a new name for both of you; Rolan’s Fire

“What are you calling it?” 

“Rolan’s Fire. You have to admit it has a nice ring to it.” 

The bursting lights grow in a flash then dim in a beautiful marriott of colors and white light. The elegance of the spell always fit him and it never failed to fill you with warmth, but now you still feel the bite of the cold despite how many memories of him you conger or how many times you spill the lights from your hands. 

“Just talk to him…” Karlach's words echo in your mind. Of course, it’s that simple, but would it be enough? Could you even be able to articulate how he sends sparks through you? Would he want you to? Or would he want something different…Clenching your fist hard, your mind running rampant with thoughts, with advice, with what you should do. Then finally you come to your decision. 

The cold air stings your face as you run down the dark streets. With every step, your mind screams how this is crazy but your heart urges your tired feet forward. Running as fast as your legs can take you, the city and the few late-night pedestrians blur beside you as your eyes keep forward to one goal. Ramazith’s Tower. 

Running up to the tower you don’t even give yourself a minute to catch your breath before banging on the doors with all your might. You know you won’t be able to rest until you finally settle this with him. Rolan needs to know, you need to know so you can function again. The pinning of your heart has thoroughly consumed you, it’s time. If only this damn door would open! 

The frustration you feel gets released as you beat against the door, 

“Stop beating against that damn door!” 

The voice sounds rough with sleep but still has that formal tone you have grown to listen for, to adore…

The door swinging open you immediately feel those sparks. His hair, usually tied back so precisely is knotted back in a messy rush, he looks surprised to see you. His handsome face contorted to scrunch in confusion at your slummed body still trying to catch your breath. Staring at him in this state is not helping you catch your breath in the slightest. 

Rolan's chest, usually concealed underneath his robes, is now exposed showing off his toned chest covered in those defining ridges that decorate his red skin. Unable to help yourself, your eyes follow the trail of his ridges to his abs then the simple trousers that are keeping the rest of him from you. 

“Tav?” his voice is laced with concern before it's going back to his usual irritated one. “What are you doing here? Going to act like a lunatic then run off again?” Rolan steps closer “What's been going on with you? I thought we were friends and you keep avoiding me! So what is it now that is so damned impor-”

“Rolan, how do I ask you out?” you interrupt while still trying to catch your breath. 

“Wh-What?” Rolan's dark eyes are wide, any trace of sleep has been knocked out of him by your question. 

Pushing past him you walk into the tower. The tower has usually been lit up when you have seen it before, but now it's dark and intimidating. Turning to look at Rolan he still has that shocked look on his face. You know your question is sudden, but you couldn’t think of anything else. Nervously you begin rambling. 

“Look, I know it’s a sudden question but I don’t know what else to do. I have asked everyone for advice, and I just can’t seem to do any of it right. So might as well just ask the source right? Because all the stuff I have tried I choke, or Im making a complete ass out of myself. So please, just tell me…so I can do it and get this…nonning ache out! I know the reject-” 

During your pacing rant, you feel hands cupping your face gently, slowly they raise your head to have you meet his golden eyes. All the words die off in your throat, Rolan’s is staring at you so intensely. With him so close you take in the details of his horns, the freckles peppering his red skin. The feeling of his hands warming your skin, you want to stay like this forever but you just wish you knew what he was thinking. 

“Rolan I-” 

“Quiet.” 

Rolan’s command instantly silences you. The sparks you have been feeling are erupting into a storm of excitement that rushes through you. His thumbs carefully brush against your skin only making you lean in closer. Rolons eyes glow in the darkness, you want to tell him how they set you on fire but right as you're parting your lips Rolan dips down and presses his mouth to yours. His soft lips make all your thoughts melt away. The thundering sparks are bursting into a warmth throughout your body. Rolan’s Fire…

Slowly as he keeps guiding your lips with a growing intensity, then carefully you feel your body being guided back. Once you feel your back meet the wall you break the kiss with a gasp, but it's only a quick second before his lips are pressing to yours once more. Rolan's hands slide down from your jaw to your hips bringing them closer to press against himself. A soft moan leaves your chest when you feel the hardness of his arousal straining against you. 

Rolan slips his tongue between your lips to taste you, the deepening of the kiss causes you to tighten your thighs feeling yourself getting wetter with each pass of his tongue. Your hands find a place on the hard ridges on his warm chest, as you trace over them slowly you feel him groan into the kiss. Then Rolan breaks the and his warm breath fans over your ear as he speaks.

“Ask me now.”

The words barely register in your foggy mind as you feel Rolan slipping his hands underneath your shirt. 

“What?” You can hardly manage the word, your shaky breath makes Rolan lean into your neck with a smile and a kiss, slowly he drags his soft lips against your skin sending shivers of excitement through you. Then his voice is back in your ear purring his words to you. 

“Ask me out again…tell me what you want…please…I need to hear it.” 

The hands underneath your shirt find your breasts and crease them as you stumble a moan trying to find your words. 

“Rolan…” 

“Yes?”, he whispers as he strips your shirt from you. His eyes roam over all your curves before he leans into your exposed chest, palming and lightly teasing at your sensitive skin. 

“I want you in every way possible…I..want you,” you practically cry as you feel him move from your chest to sink lower, sliding his lips against your stomach. Once reaching the hem of your pants he tugs down your pants, rolling your pants and underwear down carefully exposing your wet sex.  

Kneeling now you feel his lips press against your hips causing you to arch them forward. Shaky hands slide up the back of your thighs, suddenly you feel one of your legs being lifted to hook over his shoulder. Heart beating out of your chest you look down to see his eyes are already on you as he waits patiently on one knee. His eyes are completely blown with desire and you can feel the anticipation in his shaking touch as he rubs his hand on the outside of your thigh. 

“Go out with me?” you ask desperately. 

“Gods yes,” he groans before pressing his face into your folds, his hot tongue quickly finds your clit nudging and licking against the bundle making you throw your head back in a sharp gasp. 

Rolan being a quick learner latches onto your swollen bundle, sucking and twirling his tongue against it. The sudden stimulation has a moan escaping you then quickly your hand comes down to grasp one of his horns, holding on desperately as you watch him ravishingly pleasure you. 

Rolan's eyes widen then roll back as your grip gets tighter on his horn. The groan he releases from the sensation vibrates through you, tightening the coil in your stomach. The slick from your quivering slit is rolling down his chin. Moving slightly he laps his tongue to taste more, Adjusting so his perfect nose is rubbing against your clit. His tongue breaching your insides makes you grab both horns as you pull him in closer. You moan his name like a prayer as you ride against his face. 

The more you tug on his horns the more he groans, he can't help but grasp hard on your behind making you whine more as his nails dig into you. Your stomach starts to suddenly tighten more as his velvet tongue finds the sweet stop within you. 

“There! Fuck there! D-Don't, Ah!” you push your hips off the wall but he's quickly pushing them back against it to keep you still.  

Keeping his eyes on you, he watches as the hot wave of pleasure rushes through you. Clasping your hand over your mouth you moan and shake as your orgasm hits. Rolan eagerly licks and sucks up your release as you ride out your high. 

Finally coming down from it Rolan starts to move away from your spent cunt, though before he's moved away completely he gives a quick nip to your clit making you let out a sharp whine. 

Body feeling feverish you lean and brace yourself against the wall, trembling and breathing heavily. Rolan rises from his kneel and you watch in awe as a mix of your arousal and his spit glistens against his perfect face. He brings his hand to wipe his face, his eyes flicking down at you as he smiles then licks up the residue from his fingers. 

“Meet me at Elfsong tomorrow night?” 

Stars in your eyes you nod absentmindedly at him, “Yes…” 

Gods you can’t wait for tomorrow…

[my-lovely-writing]

Obey Me! Lucifer with an abused teen MC.

Little notes: Haha, sorry that was a bit of a hiatus! I've been struggling with, well...life. You know how it is. But I'm back because I have fictional person brain rot. If you don't want to see anything besides my hero/villain stuff, feel free to blacklist the obey me tags.

Also, I'm kinda new to the obey me! fandom, so I'm sorry if the characters are a bit off. I won't be writing about some of them until I've learned more about them.

With that said, if you have any triggers, please check the tw tags before clicking below. This is about an MC who's been abused.

Lucifer

Lucifer found it a bit strange how quickly you took to him.

He makes you do your homework before class tomorrow? No complaints. He reminds you of bedtime (which you have because nobody's allowed to stay up later than Lucifer in the house of lamentation due to the fact that there may not be one left by morning)? "Okay, no problem! I can study TSL later." (Still trying to hang out with Levi, are you?) If anything, you seem grateful for his overbearing tendencies.

Really, with the chaos of his brothers, he's a little bit weirded out by how much trouble you don't cause. Maybe you're just scared of the demons?

Yeah, that has to be it. Works for him.

Except...it doesn't.

Not when he comes in screaming at Mammon for yet another failing grade and you start trembling, face pale and legs locked from your place on the couch, as if you don't quite know whether to freeze or run.

Dammit, he needs to take care of this lest the angels see you as a hostage and another celestial war is started. Besides, Diavolo doesn't want the human exchange student terrified, he's trying to foster relations.

So, for once, Lucifer forgoes stringing Mammon up from the ceiling, much to everyone's surprise (and your and his shared relief) and instead stalks off to his office to calm down with his favorite cursed records.

Later that night, when he's sending everyone to bed, he saves you for last. "MC, please follow me to my office."

His tone is gentle, reassuring even, but you know better than to mistake it for a request. Your mind races as you follow him on shaky legs. What have you done now? Idiot!

When you reach his office, Lucifer gestures for you to sit in the armchair across from his desk. It's surprisingly comfortable as you sink into it, but you can't help feeling like you're being swallowed up. Is he going to eat you?

As he sits in the chair across from you, it doesn't seem like it. Yet.

"How are you adjusting to life in The Devildom?"

You can't figure out his game here. His face reveals little, but you get the sense that he's asking a question without asking it.

"I'm adjusting," you say simply, expecting him to drop it at that. You're just a mortal, after all.

"I asked how you are adjusting," he counters. "It must be a big shift for you."

Really, it must be, he had realized earlier in the confines of his office—he and his brothers struggled enough after the fall, but you, in your human ways, had not even realized the existence of magic or god before coming here, and now you're surrounded by demons? Not to mention that you're still a child. Lucifer doesn't like to curse, usually finding such foul language beneath him, but he doesn't know what to call it other than a mindfuck.

The Avatar of Pride's efforts to push away the tinge of guilt that accompanied said realization have been in vain. He and his brothers haven't exactly been nice to you, have they?

He's long decided to help you adjust, if only to get rid of this stubborn and unbecoming guilt, but he can't exactly do that if you won't tell him what's wrong and you're just staring at him like a gaping fish, so he doubles down. "Are you experiencing any difficulties, MC?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck—if your mind was racing before, it's moving so quickly now that it's burning into ashes that, somehow, through the magic you've just learned exists, are blown away by the wind to spell those three words.

"MC?" Lucifer repeats your name, eyes widening in that half a millimeter of concern Diavolo talks about (referencing that one chat, I forget the actual measurement and I know his eyes technically widened in surprise, but give me a break) . Is this a human thing? No demons he knows of are this...weak. It's an active effort for him to restrain his judgement as he raises his eyebrows at you which, finally, seems to prompt a response.

"P-please, I'm sorry, I'll do better! I'm sorry for whatever I did. I w-won't do it again, don't eat me!"

Well...

Suddenly he feels like an ass for judging you. Just what ideas has Mammon been putting into your head? You look like you've seen your own ghost. And again, he reminds himself, you are a weak and defenseless human child in a world of demons.

"Nobody, not even Beel, is going to eat you. As our human exchange student, I won't allow you to die before the year closes," he says, lips pulling into a frown, studying you more intently now and watching the way you squirm as he looks at you, back ramrod straight against the armchair. What is going on with you? "Why do you believe that I would eat you?"

"I, uh..." Okay, so you don't think he'll eat you, but it's never good when an adult looks at you like that. "I don't know, you seemed upset earlier and now I've been called in here, so I thought I might have screwed up somehow—not, like, arson or anything, but I thought...I thought you'd find something."

"You thought I'd find something?" Lucifer stresses the word.

"...Yes?" you say with all the hesitance of someone on death row confessing to a crime. You swear you see Lucifer's eye twitch for just a split second.

Meanwhile, Lucifer's got it. At first, he didn't really pay all that much mind when Diavolo mentioned that you come from "troubled circumstances", mostly hoping that you wouldn't be just as troubled and therefore troubling yourself, but he's starting to see that you are—just in a different way than the others.

Of course, he doesn't outright mention or address the clues he's just put together—The Avatar of Pride can tell better than anyone that you're hiding your past as well as you can, which is, admittedly, not well, but he's been persuaded to humor you.

"I am not a sadist." Okay, he is, but it's better that you not know that. He continues, "I am not looking to find something to punish you for and, while there are some things I would kill you for such as threatening my brothers, Diavolo, or the Devildom, I have no intentions of causing you harm under regular circumstances. You may get an F on your math test without fearing me or any punishment I would give you, MC."

You blink as you process the words, a little bit of the fear edging out of your body. "I can?" Your voice is tentatively hopeful.

"You can," Lucifer reaffirms, shuffling his paperwork around, if only for your benefit, as tears begin to brim in your eyes. He allows you to save face. "Go to bed. You're welcome in my office if you ever need to talk."

"Thank you," you mumble to him as you hurry from the room. You don't know what this means, but you know you're not dead and that's good enough.

The next morning, Lucifer's brothers are woken up earlier and met with a stern talk about being kind to you, accompanied by the reminder that you are a child even by human standards who is adjusting to life in literal hell and the threat of them having to adjust to hell a second time over (a punishment—Lucifer's punishment is the second hell). "We're building relations with the exchange student for Diavolo," he justifies explains.

His brothers aren't terribly thrilled with the idea of cozying up to a human, but they agree because they remember how hard the fall was for them.

Asmodeus, being the most familiar and cool with humans due to his pact with Solomon and finding your fearful, doe-like nature adorable, offers to take you out clubbing—to which Lucifer reminds him of the child thing.

Fine, fine, no clubbing. He'll pamper you instead, you certainly have enough split ends to suggest you could use a haircut.

From then on out, a new rule is established where each of the brothers, Lucifer included, have to spend time with you every so often with one or more brothers spending time with you each day of the week.

Needless to say, you're confused by the sudden kindness but you soon don't mind it, finding yourself slowly warming up to them—and, much to the shock of your ruined self-esteem, they to you.

Lucifer is pleasantly surprised and secretly grateful to find that his brothers get into less trouble with you around and, eventually, even more pleasantly surprised to find that you seem almost normal around them. You no longer eat in silence at the dinner table, refuse to meet their eyes, or cower like a puppy used to getting kicked when they raise their voices at each other (everyone has learned not to raise their voice at you, even Satan).

It's not long before Lucifer is calling you his best behaved child sibling. He even goes so far as to have everyone retake the family photo with you in it.

Is there any way he can turn you into a demon? He'd like you to be his child sibling for forever, and humans die far too quickly. As far as Lucifer's concerned, Satan has something new to research.

And it's not as though you don't seem to have some level of darkness in you. Just the other day you heard screams coming from the lower levels of Lord Diavolo's castle and followed them in spite of your fear, kind heart wanting to aid whoever was suffering.

According to Barbatos, you didn't even flinch when you found him torturing your parents, pliers still gripped around one of your dad's bloody fingernails.

Hell, you even asked to join in! (How Barbatos responded to that, I'll let you all imagine lol)

Also, Lucifer will never admit it, but he's quite possibly never felt more pride than the time you, Satan, and Belphie pranked him with a whoopie cushion on his desk chair. Normally he would have beat his brothers with it, but he could tell from the less than ideal invisibility cloak over the object that you were involved and hid a smile from prying eyes as he sat on what felt like his throne despite the ensuing fart noises.

And that's how his family of seven became eight once again.

[tickldpnk8]

Shipper Tag Game

Thanks for the tags @windsweptinred and @writing-for-life! Sorry it's taken me a bit: this week has been really hectic, but this is a fun one! I suspect that my answers may be a bit of a blend of both of yours.

What ship were you completely obsessed with as a teenager, but now you don't care about anymore?

I still actively ship the same pairings I did as a teenager. Mostly because I tend to like canon pairings, so when I engage with a fandom, it tends to be through that lens.

What ship would you consider your first one?

The earliest ship I remember liking is Clark Kent/Lois Lane from Lois and Clark. But this was pre-computer in my house growing up. The first ship I really got into online fan culture with and fan fiction was Harry/Ginny from HP.

Your first fanfic was about which couple?

So I've never written fanfic: I'm more of a fan art person, although I'm pretty shy about posting it. My earliest fan art was probably something Disney...most likely The Little Mermaid as a kid. My most recent foray back into fan art was for The Unknown and Static Strange, Dreamling fic. Otherwise, I've just had fun painting Morpheus' hair.

Do you remember the first couple you saw fan art of?

Most likely Harry/Ginny: there was this excellent artist, whose name (I think) was Marta, who used to post watercolor sketches on her own site called The Art Dungeon: they were gorgeous and really helped shape how I pictured the characters as I read the books. I'd love to find her artwork again to see what her portfolio is like now if she's still working as an artist.

Have you ever gotten into ship discourse?

Oh man...do you know how non-confrontational I am?? I won't touch it with a 10 ft pole: first whiff of a debate going heated and I nope out of there. I took a peek at the Loki tags when season 2 came out and couldn't close my browser fast enough. Ship and let ship, but don't ask me to comment on it.

Did you use to have any NOTP or have one currently?

I generally avoid anything that a huge power imbalance: (think: underage student with an adult teacher). But other than that, I've come to embrace any ship if the writing is good enough. Almost any trope too.

Who were the last couple in the last fanfic you read?

I'm super excited to see Hounds is updating again, even if I've largely moved on from actively pursuing Dreamling. And I LOVED @writing-for-life's The Light of Stars (Morpheus x OC). I dabbled in a few Loki one-shots recently, too.

Currently, do you have any OTPs?

Man, that's hard...because I'm honestly not reading fanfic for the ships: I'm mostly reading it to satisfy the brain rot. So while I tend to prefer canon-adjacent or gen fics (missing moments, alt POV, etc), it seems that the best way to find those is through searching ship tags. Sandman seems to be the exception: I want all of these characters to pair up with all of the other characters and all bets are off the table. If the writing is solid and the plot is intriguing, I'm in!

Is there any couple that, to this day, that you are extremely mad about not getting into?

Not really: I don't invest so much in the ships I like and hate that I can't Ship and Let Ship. Likewise, if I want to read something, I will. And if it's not for me, I'll just ignore it. I also don't get so invested that if it doesn't become canon I'm upset: I kind of figure all things are possible in Lucienne's library

Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they're kind of interesting?

I honestly didn't really like the idea of Dreamling to start: it's not a canon pairing, I wouldn't have put the spin on Hob's character that fandom seems to have latched onto, and I really like that he's the one platonic friendship that Morpheus has able to form. But I find the idea of someone living for that long infinitely intriguing so I dipped into the tags, and some of the most well-known and well-beloved early fics for this pairing really caught my attention and hooked me in. But since then...my interest has waned. As others have pointed out, it's just everywhere and hard to filter. It's also starting to feel a bit OOC as fandom does what they do in shaping a character's portrayal.

I tend to go in spurts where I really like a certain dynamic and then I get bored with the fic selection for a pairing. But generally, I'll always come back to it after enough time. I really want to see more Desire-centric pairings like Desunity as I think they're a really interesting character and it could be interesting to explore them in different relationships given their function.

Do you have any ship that, in the past, would have been considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

I've been in fandom spaces a long time, but I don't think any of them would be considered problematic today. It's more likely that there are things I used to feel were problematic, but I'm actually okay with now. I've grown a lot as a reader (and a human) over time.

What is your favorite crack ship?

Prob Morpheus and his Helmet (have we named this yet @writing-for-life?? it needs a worthy ship name). I'm also fairly certain that I coined the name Timeslayer for the Loki fandom (or might have simultaneously come up with the name when others did). But I've never seen a ship sink so quickly.

What is the couple you read the most fanfics about?

Lately, it's been Dream x Joanna (ConstantDream) coming off of a big DreamMuse kick that was followed by Dream x Lucienne.

What do most of your ships have in common?

That's hard! I was going to say Hard Candy Shell of a Guy reveals he has a Gooey Nougat Center...but really it just comes down to 1) is the writing good? 2) is the plot intriguing? 3) do the characters feel in-character? If you satisfy those 3 things, I'll likely read it.

What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

Absolutely nothing outright. I'll sometimes go off a ship a little once it reaches that point where fanon locks in too tight around it. But I think that's a very me problem, as I crave variation/new experiences/ideas. I'll still love the ship, I'll just know that's just my time to move onto something new and come back and visit every so often.

^ @windsweptinred couldn't have nailed this better. I crave new: new perspectives, new takes on a character or dynamic, new AU scenarios. So once things get a bit too repetitive across authors, I'll pull back and visit something else.

This was fun! Thanks again for the tags. I've been minimally online this week so am not sure who else has done this: if you follow me and want to participated consider this your chance!

[psychewritesbs]

First of all, thank you for your kind response! Second, in my mind you are "the anime psycho", but "psycho chick" is better 😅

So, apparently we share some grievances:

- I still can't get over what Gege did to Tsumiki. Fridged from the beginning, then she becomes the vessel for Sukuna's simp and then ended up in that fight that turned out to be a joke!? To make matters worse, in the middle of all this Megumi was also fridged.

- the "gathering of allies", either when they were going to free Gojo or with Gojo free, I would've liked to see more reactions to EVERYTHING that happened... but Gege prefers to dedicate pages to Kenjaku's monologue I guess.

- Sukuna vs Gojo. At first, one if not the most anticipated fight in the story of course I was very excited but a couple of chapters later and I was fed up. For powerscalling, it's great, the two strongest showing why they are the strongest, except we still don't know Sukuna's CT (or anything else about his character); but for someone like me who isn't interested in powerscalling, I find it a little flat though I'm not sure if it's the right term, it's like something is missing; Gojo... sometimes feels like I'm watching the extended version of the teen Gojo that fought against Toji and I'm not talking about power. (maybe I'm being a little harsh here and when I reread it I'll like it more).

When Gege again expressed his desire to finish jjk this year, giiirl... why did he dedicate chapters to international politics and the US invasion!?; and Sakurajima? I have nothing against this mini arc I swear but Sakurajima might not have happened and it would really change something in the story? Maki was already considered as powerful as she is and Naoya only returned for her training moment so... the unknown points were Kamo's situation and Kenjaku's infiltration.

However despite my complaints, there are still things I love about Gege's writing and I've been invested in the story for a couple of years so I want to know how it all ends (what will happen to Megumi, although I try to keep the minimum my expectations too). I also distanced myself from the fandom because it became unbearable (I can't believe how sometimes this affected my enjoyment), I only follow you and linkspooky.

I understand that when all is said and done my grievances will probably become meaningless. Gege tends to show much later why some things happened (or didn't) that way.

I end here because I already made it very long, sorry. Again thank you so much for your response and for your attention!

HOLA! Welcome back anon 😂.

So your ask came through before chapter 236 I believe so... let's taco'bout it more under the cut...

Ok so after brain rotting a bit more about it, I have achieved a different level of mental gymnastics about Tsumiki. Hopefully I'll sit and make a case for why the way her situation unfolded was actually perfect. Stay tuned.

But, as for grievances, I have to say that for me, the thing I really did not like as of recent has got to be how quickly Gege moved into and through chapter 220.

It just feels rushed to me. Which I actually find relatable, because sometimes, when you write, you know where you're going, but getting there is a little harder.

I think Gege could have gone into more depth about how they all came together again, etc. So yeah, defo not a transition I cared for.

As for Sukuna vs. Gojo, I mean... yeah.

I did not enjoy it one bit and I kind of wish I would have enjoyed it more because Hakari vs. Kashimo was just such an exciting battle. Another favorite was Yuji vs. Choso.

But Gojo vs. Sukuna was defo meant to be a culmination of so many plot points that I personally was not interested in so... it is what it is. I am glad the battle is over and that Gege is feeding us Sukuna lore, etc.

Gojo... sometimes feels like I'm watching the extended version of the teen Gojo that fought against Toji and I'm not talking about power

Ok, this is so funny to read now that the battle is over given my thoughts on how Gojo was emotionally frozen in time because of what happened with Toji.

Did the conclusion of the battle give you more insight about what you were thinking?

When Gege again expressed his desire to finish jjk this year, giiirl... why did he dedicate chapters to international politics and the US invasion!?; and Sakurajima?

I get it! But remember we now know that, while jjk is in its final stages, it won't be ending any time soon. It certainly is a relief to hear that because, yeah, it was feeling pretty rushed while also addressing weird plot points that felt irrelevant at the time. Hopefully he'll come back and tie some of those lose ends.

Sakurajima was Maki and Naoya's showdown, wasn't it?

God, I honestly hated Naoya showing up again so much. But in retrospect, I can see what the arc was exploring, etc.

I recommend you look over at @blog-of-hubris who wrote some really good stuff about Sakurajima!

However despite my complaints, there are still things I love about Gege's writing

Same. I feel like, for me, Gege's vision is incredibly fun and engaging despite any of the apparent flaws in the execution of the story.

I feel like I am so consumed in the story because the themes resonate with me so deeply, that I am not concerned with execution unless he flops it (*cough*ch. 208*cough*).

I won't be surprised if, during a re-read, in addition to uncovering new layers of meaning I might have initially missed, I start spotting all of the plot holes or start seeing where he could have executed differently to achieve the same effect.

Kind of like Kimi No Na Wa lol. I LOVE Kimi No Na Wa, but the moment you spend any time contemplating the thing, it makes sense why Shinkai himself was so critical of his own creation.

I also have to say that I try to be very cognizant of the constrictions that Gege operates under--time, being the greatest. Not to mention that this is Gege's first big project. So what we're seeing is a fledgling author in the early stages of what I hope is a long career.

I also distanced myself from the fandom because it became unbearable (I can't believe how sometimes this affected my enjoyment), I only follow you and linkspooky.

Giiiiiirl.... lol. Thanks for the vote of confidence 🫡

Honestly, this fandom is just so damn big. Too many opinions abound, too much ego, pointless shipping wars... it's hard. I get it.

I've only started talking to more people on Twitter recently, but for the longest time I kept to my corner here on Tumblr because some people get so defensive about their interpretation of the story that it often feels like walking on egg shells if you dare disagree.

I understand that when all is said and done my grievances will probably become meaningless. Gege tends to show much later why some things happened (or didn't) that way.

I think that chapter 236 just confirmed that in no uncertain terms :)

Thanks for stopping by again anon :)

[bakubros-boo-thang]

Disrespected Devil

Wordcount: -4K

Lucifer x F!Reader

Summary: When you disrespect the demon king, Lucifer is forced to say goodbye to you.

Genre: Angst, smutt, slight fluff, but tbh just angst

A/N: So another first. Not only my first time writing for the Obey me fandom (I have a major Obey me brain rot), but also my first time writing angst and I felt depressed after finishing this (which I did a second ago). I love Diavolo, but I needed a reason for the goodbye to happen so even if his dad is the villain, he is the one to execute it... Hope you enjoy this story.

Warning: NSFW, mentioning of being paralyzed I guess.

‘’What’s with Luci today?’’ ‘’He looks more pissed of than usual…’’ ‘’He probably listened to classical music too long and forgot his homework.’’ ‘’Lucifer forgetting his homework will never happen, but if it did he would look like this.’’ Hearing all those whispers during dinner time is nothing new for you. Tonight is different though. You know why he’s mad and you know who’s the blame. But it’s not as if you don’t have a reason to be just as upset. As dinner slowly ends you know there is only a small gap to avoid a situation. ‘’Beel, how about we go bake something for later this evening?’’ You say, as you cling onto the huge redhead. You know that food is a trigger and you know that this is the way to hide from HIM. ‘’Alright, sounds delicious!’’ He doesn’t seem to notice the way you hold onto him for dear life and the same goes for the others. Clearly, they’ve gotten so used to you that it’s not even necessary to be by your side 24/7. It’s not as if they know tonight will be the last time they see you. It’s a small moment of weakness and you feel your heart clench by the thought of leaving those boys. It’s enough to make you lose your grip on Beel's arm. Enough to bend over, because it physically hurts to leave them behind and enough for Lucifer to finally notice you and come to your aid. ‘’Beel, I think she ate something wrong. No cake tonight, I will see her to her room.’’

And with that, he scoops you up and takes you upstairs. Of course, your room is not an option. It’s way too close to the other rooms. No place to yell. No, Lucifer’s room is soundproof. Made for his nights spent with loud classical music and also made for the occasional screaming match with one of his brothers. As he enters the room, he carefully puts you down on his bed. ‘’Are you feeling alright, Y/n?’’ He says as he lays his palm against your forehead. The feeling of sadness is gone, already replaced by nerves. You know what’s coming. You know you won’t hold back. Will this be your last fight with Lucifer? The question never makes it to the surface, because the moment you nod your head in ensurement, Lucifer opens his mouth. ‘’Good, because you have no idea how foolish you acted today.’’  As mentioned before this room reminds you of the occasional screaming matches he must’ve had with his brothers, but never with you. Pissing Lucifer off is easy. You’ve done that plenty of times. Even made him show his true form, but making him scream, that is something you never achieved. Still, it is worth the try. Tonight is your last chance. As you get up you take a look at his face. What faces you is the cold expression he usually shows when he’s done with someone’s bullshit. The expression you have already mirrored back to him. ‘’So you are going to ignore me?’’ I’m not going to answer him. ‘’Are you serious?’’ I am not going to say a word. ‘’Should I spell out what you did?’’ Don’t say a thing. ‘’You just signed your death certificate.’’ His voice cracks and even though it’s far from the scream you aimed for. It’s still the first sign of emotion from the man you care about so much. ‘’Diavolo didn’t seem upset by what I said?!’’ You can’t help but talk louder. especially after being silent for the past few minutes. ‘’ As if he is going to kill me? ME?! And ruin the bonds that are being formed with the humans?’’

You can feel the tears in your eyes, this fight might’ve been about you being disrespectful in some way, but for you it was different. All this time getting closer with all the brothers. All this time loving them. All this time being there for them. It made you realize that the only one who made it difficult was him. With every step getting closer to each other; there were always a few steps back. An obsession with keeping up appearance, an obsession over a promise he would keep no matter what, an obsession with being a stuck-up asshole; That was Lucifer in a nutshell for you. And still, you couldn’t help being drawn to him. As a moth drawn to a flame. Even when the flame could easily kill the moth. Just as easily Lucifer could kill you. And it’s not as if he hadn’t tried that before. ‘’Y/n, You disrespected his father. I had to bargain for you to even leave the castle. The first time I trusted you enough to take you with me alone. And this is how you behave? You know what he wanted to do to Belphegor…’’ You know this story is his weakness. The reason he ended up becoming the lapdog of his so-called best friend. Still, it only makes you more upset to hear him say it. Even when you can hear the slightest hint of emotion in his voice; his eyes stay just as cold as usual. ‘’He is your best friend, isn’t he? He is my friend too, right? You always do this Lucifer! You always get mad over things and it never solves anything. You get mad at me for having fun. You get mad at me for trying to help. You get mad at me for trying to get closer to you. You don’t share things with me! Maybe Diavolo should’ve locked me up. Might as well get myself killed; it’s not as if you never tried to kill me…’’ Your voice is loud as you speak, but his silence is louder. He just stares at you and then it happens.

It’s not that you’re scared you’ve seen his true form before. It’s just as beautiful as him, but it’s also something that happens when he’s full of rage, just as that one time he tried to kill you. You can feel yourself freeze under his gaze. You can feel yourself moving away from him until you reach the headboard of his bed. Still, he moves closer. Until his lips are inches away from your ears. No screams, only whispers; what a way to say goodbye. ‘’DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON?!’’ You are so shocked by the volume of his voice, the bass it carries, that it takes some time to realize he has more to say. Your ear is beeping as he moves his lips away and locks his gaze onto you. ‘’DIAVOLO IS NOT THE FUCKING PROBLEM, Y/N, HIS DAD IS. YOU INSULTED THE KING OF DEVILDOM IN FRONT OF HIS SON AND MULTIPLE WITNESSES. DIAVOLO CAN’T DO SHIT ABOUT THAT.’’ Only now do you notice the way his hands are gripping your arms; The way his expression has changed from cold to almost desperate. ‘’That guy has only been able to do what his dad wanted. Our friendship is real, but if his father told him to kill me, he would do it without hesitation. Do you really think he would think twice about killing you? IF HE WOULD KILL ME -HIS BEST FRIEND- IN AN INSTANT?” You notice the tears in his eyes. Lucifer is screaming and crying, but this isn’t a win. Before your heart breaks again, his arms are around you and his face is hidden in your neck, but that doesn’t stop the words. ‘’I had to send you away. I had to be cold. They know I care about you, but not to this extent. I had to pretend it was for the sake of the bonds. After you left I had to beg on my knees for your survival. I had to beg. The avatar of pride begged someone on his knees. It was all Lillith over again…’’

There is nothing you can say to fix this. It might’ve slipped your mind while you were there. But you were surrounded by royalty. What might’ve seemed innocent for you, was clearly a lot for them and now you had to leave everyone you loved behind. You can feel the tears fall from your eyes. “I’m sorry Luci, I truly am.” It won’t help, but it’s the least you can say as you look up into his eyes. He is still in his true form, but even with his wings all spread out, he has never looked more vulnerable. There is a sad smile on his lips as he caresses your cheek. “I know you are, you fool.” He says with no trace of the rage he had before. “ I don't want to leave you all…I don't want to leave you!” You know that you sound like a small child that already knows he lost and that’s exactly what you feel like. “It’s too late for that now, Y/n. Diavolo gave me tonight to say my goodbyes.”  You try to distract yourself by focusing on his raven colored wings. “So that means I can’t say goodbye to the rest…”  The pain is back. Never being a fool with Mammon, never dressing up with Levi, doing make-up with Asmo, reading books with Satan, eating with Beel or sleeping with Belphie.  You can’t help but grab your chest again. “Are you okay?” Lucifer is supporting you within seconds as he asks the question. “No I’m not, but atleast I get to say goodbye to you.”  And as you look up he leans in and gives you a tiny peck on the lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time.” He lets out. You can’t help but smile as you pull him back towards you. “Let's make it a proper goodbye then.” You whisper as you pull him back to your lips.

It’s not like it’s your first kiss with Lucifer, but it’s the last and that’s what makes it so much more special. It’s the combination of mutual sadness and desperation, the hint of rage still brewing somewhere deep inside the both of you. He knows your body, the way it will arch when he pushes you all the way down onto the bed. The tiny gasps when he starts kissing your neck. The way you look away when he starts kissing all the way down your body. ‘’Please keep looking at me, dear. I want you to see how much I am going to miss you.’’ It’s enough to make your heart flutter, the way he starts to attack your core with his tongue right away. It’s obvious he is in a hurry, but even with all the sadness, it’s the best way there is. You can’t help your moans; You’re lucky his room is soundproof. He’s fast, maybe too fast, but with everything that’s going on, it’s the best you can get. And that’s what it is. The best, because within a few minutes you can feel yourself starting to reach that point. The knot in your stomach tightens. your hands end up in his hair and with one loud moan, you erupt around him.

‘’I know that Mammon claims he was your first… in multiple ways… and not to discredit my brother, but I intend to be your last in all of them.’’  He says as he looks at you while he licks his lips. Him saying those words, the way he just made you lose your mind. It feels good, after all the fighting, teasing, kisses and losses , you’re with the man you love. You don’t want to ruin the mood. You’re really trying, but the moment you hear yourself thinking about loving him, about leaving him, about leaving his brothers, you just break. The tears start to form in your eyes and as you try to wipe them away you feel something on your arms. Lucifer. His eyes are cold again as he moves up to face you. ‘’Don’t hide your tears. I am just as sad.’’ He takes a long look at you, lets out a sign, and lays next to you as he caresses your back. ‘’I don’t want to play the ‘’Who has it worse’’ game, truly, I don’t want to, but in all the years I’ve been in heaven and hell, you’re the first human to have ever make my blood boil. Both from nerves and anger nonetheless, but losing you. Losing the one that made my family whole, the one that makes me feel all these emotions, the one that I love, hurts.’’ You can’t help but raise your brow. when he notices your expression he lets out a laugh.

You feel his hand grab your chin and suddenly your lips are only inches apart. ‘’I know you love me, Y/n. I’ve always known. Falling for you, was what surprised me.’’ You can’t help, but roll your eyes at him. Trying to ignore the way his hand feels on your back. The way it slowly moves it’s way to your hips. ‘’You know I do love all your brothers quite a lot too…’’ You say with all the confidence you have left. ‘’I know you do, but still I am the one that has you laying here. Practically begging for more.’’ He let’s out a chuckle as he pulls you closer. ‘’Let’s end this conversation, there’s not enough time.’’ And with that he’s on top of you. You know there isn’t much time, but when he starts to unbotton his shirt it’s as if time slows down. Of course he notices your looks and can’t help to give you a sly smirk. ‘’Don’t worry your next.’’ Is all he says as he takes his shirt off and starts tugging on yours. After your shirt is taken off he takes a look at your body and all you see is adoration on his face. ‘’I want to see all of you.’’ It makes your body flutter. ‘’You’re absolutely breathtaking.’’ He whispers. All this praise makes you feel weak. You try to grab his face, but as you put your arms up they fall down. You feel weak. Not because of his words, but something else. You see Lucifers expression change, the adorations is switched to concern, then back to concentration and before you know it he scoops you in his arms and makes you straddle him.

He’s looking at you, but not really. Obviously talking to himself. ‘’He wanted to be sure…’’ And as he says it he’s back. Back to giving you a sad smile. ‘’What’s going on?’’ Is all you let out. Is all you can let out, as you feel your body weighing more and more. He notices you getting weaker, making sure your settled between him and the headboard of the bed, before he speaks again. ‘’I think it’s time… Barbatos must’ve cast a spell… something that gave us a time limit. The probably knew it would be hard saying my goodbyes to you. Now I’m forced to make haste, just to make sure you’re safe.’’ You can’t even respond. You can move, but barely and all you can do is watch as Lucifer grabs his shirt. As he moves away from you, you’re sure of it. No this is not the way we’re going to say our goodbyes. It needs to be on our terms. Of course those words never leave your lips, but with all the power you have you reach out to him and as he looks back you let out a: ‘’No...not like this.’’ And maybe it’s the few words you’ve spoken, or the way your arm is trembling from all the power it takes to hold on to him, but he crawls back to you. His face is right above yours and if it’s not your eyes making it obvious what you want, you’re mouth will do. ‘’Take me…’’ It’s not a lot of words, but with the face you’re making and the fact that you guys were just in the middle of it, it doesn’t take much guessing. You can see that he’s thinking about it, obviously worried for you, but you can see his eyes change the moment it clicks.

His wings ar still there and you wished you could touch them, feel them one last time, but you should be lucky by what you can still get.’’I used to be a rebel, so why not know.’’ He laughs quietly before he lays you flat on your back.  ‘’I’m going to take care of you my love, promise me to let me know when it’s too much or when you want to stop.’’ You nod your head and you know that your eyes tell him all he needs to know. How bad you want him, how even when you were able to just talk normally, you would want this goodbye to be said only in silence. His body is hovering over yours, his hand touching your neck, giving you goosebumps. ‘’Does this feel nice?’’ he whispers as his hands move towards your breasts. You can only let out a tiny gasp and that tells him enough. ‘’I wish we had more time…’’ Is all he says as his finger enters your core. The moan that escapes you is loader then the both of you would’ve expected. As he continues to stretch you out with one hand, his other starts to prep his cock. ‘’Wish I could… do that for you.’’ You manage to say. You can’t keep your eyes from him. The way he’s hovering over you. His finger inside of you and the way you can’t do anything except for your stares, moans and gasps. ‘’All I want is to feel you right now, my love.’’

And with that he places the tip right in front of your entrance. He makes sure your faces are only inches apart and as he slowly slides into you, his arms make there way to your sides. He’s holding you as he bottoms out in you and the only thing you can do is let out a long moan. He starts moving slowly, tender, putting all his love in every trust. He’s the only one speaking from time to time. ‘’I love you’s’’ and ‘’You feel so good’ s’’ are filling the room. All that praise, all the love in his eyes. The fact that he’s not only literally hitting all your spots, but also the spots in your mind, is what does it for you. You feel yourself unravel under him. You’re so close, that you start to tear up. Your eyes are filled with tears, mostly because of how good this feels, the fact that you’re making love on stolen time, but also because the time is probably running out soon. Lucifer never increases his speed. When he notices your tears he quickly wipes them away and as his hand caresses your swollen cheek he whispers:  Don’t cry, my love, let us enjoy these last moments.’’ And just as he is about to give you a kiss on the lips you whisper a soft ‘’Love you Lucifer.’’ You notice his eyes being red as well and it’s devastating, but it feels so good. the way he keeps a steady pace has you reaching your peak and these final ‘’I love you’s’’, the final kisses is all you need to feel yourself tightening around him. He’s close too, because the moment he feels you tighten around his cock he gives you one firmer stroke and that’s all he needs to cum inside of you. He falls next to you and quickly takes you in his arms. ‘’I wish we could stay like this forever. I would sell my soul… but I guess in some way my soul has already been sold.’’ And all you can do is give him a sad smile before your eyes close.

Lucifer knew that it was time. You were starting to feel cold, too cold. After putting on some clothes and making sure you were fully clothed, he grabbed the coin Barbatos had given him. ‘’Use this before the time runs out.’’ So he had warned him for the curse. He knew he couldn’t be mad at his friends. He couldn’t be mad at you, he could only blame himself. He had shown his weakness by loving you. But you loved his brothers, loved him, despite all he stood for, without any shame. And even with the way it felt like he was going to lose you forever, it still meant the world he had the honor of getting to know you. The moment the coin was thrown a portal started to form and as he grabbed your cold body the darkness swallowed the two of you. As he opened his eyes he saw nothing, but darkness. It took a few minutes to notice that he was in a room. It must’ve been yours, because he noticed a picture of you next to a bed. He was going to take the picture, he was a rebel after all. As he tucked you in, he was at a loss for words. So all he could do was give you one last kiss on the forehead. Not being able to stop the tears falling from his eyes. ‘’Goodbye, my love…’’ and as the darkness was about to swallow him, he couldn’t help but leave one more thing behind. A raven feather, just for good measure. Returning to the Devildom was going to be almost as hard as leaving you here. He was once again going to be the villain in yet another story… the story of how he lost you.

You wake up to sunlight. Too much of it. Why aren’t your curtains closed? Wait, you have to get out of bed, it’s your turn to cook for everyone. Everyone? You live by yourself… right? It feels like you had a weird dream, but you can’t remember it. All you feel is sadness. As if you’ve lost something or someone important. The pain hits you so hard that the moment you try to stand your legs give out and you lay on the ground as tears fill your eyes. It hurts, but you don’t know why. As your hands try to find some grip to get up, you feel something soft. A feather. A raven black feather. It’s weird, but it feels comforting. Before you can help yourself, your lips are already on it and even when you should be grossed out by it, you plan to cherish the little trinket...

[procrastinatingnerd]

Hi everyone! So this was my first time taking part in the @osemanversebigbang but I had so much fun!! I can't wait to read everyone's entries! 💜

Title: Angel Rahimi And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Lunch Break

Characters: Angel, Juliet, Rowan, Jimmy, Lister, Bliss, two of Angel’s future uni friends (OCs).

Spoilers? Minor spoilers of important events in “I Was Born For This”.

Word Count: 3.6k

Ships: Bicci, one joke about Juliet/Rowan.

~Joan of Arc (Probably)

“I am so fucking tired”

“Right, time’s up, put your pens down.” The exam officer says from the front of the room. I scribble one last sentence before my hand gives out, and I all but throw my pen onto the desk, sighing as dramatically as I can. This week is a fucking nightmare. Exams and assignments are the piss. Fuck uni, I’m ready to drop out. Or drop dead. Either works, honestly.

As I leave the exam hall, I walk past some people from the students’ union. They’re handing out flyers for the Christmas ball next week. My housemates are all planning on going, but my friends and I planned our present swap for that night, so we’re going to spend it eating a fuck ton of snacks and watching the cheesiest Christmas films we can find. I can’t wait, I bought them each a bag of their favourite sweets from the American candy shop, it's going to be so much fun!

But that’s next week. Right now, all I want is to sit at a table that doesn’t have an exam paper on it, and eat something very greasy and very unhealthy. There’s a pizza place just on the edge of campus, run by some of the culinary arts students, and they make the best sauce ever. It’s pretty cheap too, which makes it a favourite for most people, especially at the end of a semester, when everyone’s bank accounts are running low.

I have about an hour until I need to be back in the exam hall, so I take full advantage of the outdoor seating and collapse into a chair after ordering. My pizza is brought out to me not long after, and I breathe in the smell. Nothing has smelt more gorgeous than the slices sitting in front of me. It’s a surprisingly warm day, for December at least, and for a moment, everything feels calm. I can hear a bird singing in a tree somewhere, other students are hanging around campus, most with their noses in their phones or in textbooks, and I actually let myself relax for a bit. I’ve done all the revision I can for this next exam, and I’m in desperate need of a break. I deserve this.

I pick up my first slice of pizza, and bring it up to my mouth. As I’m about to take a bite, however, my phone rings. I put the pizza down with a sigh and answer the phone without looking at who’s calling. Mum probably sensed I wasn’t doing any work, and is calling to check up on me.

“Hello?” I say tiredly.

“Angel, hi! Is this a good time??” I grin at the sound of Juliet’s voice.

“Hell yeah, it’s a perfect time! What’s up?”

“Wait, you don’t know why I’m calling?” Juliet says hesitantly. Shit. What have I forgotten now? I know it’s not her birthday. Wait, is it mine?? I swear exams rot your brain, have I actually forgotten my own birthday?

“No…?” I ask after internally monologuing for way too long.

“Oh my god, you don’t know??” Juliet screeches in my ear, “Angel go look at your phone, it’s urgent!”

Now very concerned, I put Juliet on speaker and, for the first time all morning, actually read the notifications filling my lock screen. I open the Twitter news one, and my mouth drops open in shock.

“Holy shit.”

On my screen is a news article with a headline that reads, “THE ARK’S JIMMY KAGA-RICCI AND LISTER BIRD’S SECRET RELATIONSHIP EXPOSED”, and just below it sits a large photo of Jimmy and Lister, standing outside a pub, kissing. I don’t believe it.

“Holy fu- Hold on a second. Mate, isn’t that the pub by Piero’s house?!” I say, bringing my phone as close to my face as I can, as if that’ll help me see better. There’s a loud shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and then I hear a gasp.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Juliet says. “Rowan said they were going on holiday, but I thought he meant abroad or something.” I smile at that. Ever since our little jaunt to Kent last summer, Juliet and I have kept in touch with the boys. We even have a group chat now; us and them and even Bliss is in it. I’m so glad we stayed friends.

At first, Rowan was really quiet, and if he did speak he and Juliet would almost always end up arguing, but they’ve been getting along quite well lately. I’m not saying I ship it or anything, I’ve learnt my lesson there, but I have to say, fangirl-to enemies-to lovers would make a wicked fanfiction trope.

“Did you see any of this coming?” Juliet continues. “Surely Jimmy would have said something to you?”

“He said he was dating someone, but didn’t want to give details because they were taking things slow. Well, that and that celebrity phone hacking scandal freaked him right the fuck out, remember?” I say.

"That's

right, he stopped talking on the group chat for like two weeks, didn’t he?” Juliet giggles back. “Well, nevertheless, I’m happy for them. They’re cute together.”

“Yeah, they are.” I grin again. “Oh my god, poor Rowan though! I’d hate to live with a couple, especially a new one! It’d be nauseating.”

“Oh I know, right? And imagine what’ll happen when they have their first fight!” Juliet gasps again. I shudder at the thought.

“I’m muting the group chat when that happens.” I joke.

“Not a bad idea.” Juliet laughs back, then pauses. “Oh, Angel, I’m sorry I’ve got the get going, but do you want to skype later?”

“Yeah, no problem! I’ve got a revision session at 6, but I should be free by 9ish?”

“Sounds perfect! See you then!” Juliet says, and with that, she’s gone, and I’m back to sitting alone with my pizza.

Jimmy and Lister. Holy shit. I don’t think anyone in the fandom saw this coming. Everything has been about Jowan, since the fandom started growing it’s the only ship that ever existed. No one bothered writing fics about any other pairings. The only Jimmy/Lister fics I ever came across were platonic ones, and even they made sure to mention Jimmy’s boyfriend Rowan.

Oh god, I hope they’re okay. The fans got so crazy when Bliss and Rowan’s relationship was exposed. Jimmy/Lister is the final nail in the Jowan coffin. Jimmy must be having the panic attack of his life! I’ve got to-

My phone rings again.

I look down at the screen, and see Jimmy’s name. I take a deep breath, and answer.

“Jimmy, hi! How are-”

“Have you seen it??”

“Yes.”

“Oh god. This isn’t how we wanted to tell you guys.”

“You sure? Because getting caught by the national press worked so well for you last time.” I tease. Silence. Oops, probably not the best thing to remind him of right now.

“Jimmy, you still there?” I say carefully. There’s a slight rustle on his end, which means he probably just nodded. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise. The fans will move on. They already did with Jowan, right?”

“But what if something happens again? Something like-”

“It won’t. You guys have better security now, and you’re doing less public events. You’re going to be fine.” I hope and pray that I’m saying the right things. Jimmy and I have gotten close lately, but I’m nowhere near as good at helping him deal with his anxiety as Rowan and Lister are. There’s more silence, until finally, Jimmy speaks again.

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah I think you’re right. Thanks, Angel.”

“Course I’m right! If there’s one thing I know, it’s fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs, and I grin back. “And don’t forget, you’re not alone in this. This is happening to Lister too, and no doubt Rowan and Bliss will be there to help you. Just talk to them.”

“Thank you Angel, I’ll go do that now.”

“Perfect! Love you Jim, I’ll text you later.” I say, and the call ends.

He’ll be okay. He’s got too many people who love him not to be. I take another breath and put my phone down on the table. As soon as I do, however, it buzzes again, and I see Jimmy is trying to facetime me. Now very concerned, I answer it and hold the phone up so he can see my face properly.

“Jimmy, are you okay, what’s happened??” I ask anxiously, but he looks fine. He looks at me with a confused expression.

“Nothing, I’m just talking to the others, like you said.” He says. It’s only me and him on the call. I stare at him in silence for a moment.

“Jimmy, mate… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not any of them” I say slowly, and to my surprise, Jimmy laughs.

“Yeah I know, but I was kind of hoping to have you here, too, if that’s okay?” He says sheepishly. “It’s okay if you’re busy, it’s just that… I don’t know, you’re good with this stuff and you make me feel calm? Sorry, I know that’s a lot to just dump on you.” Jimmy doesn’t look at me directly, and I start to feel tears in my eyes.

“Well damn, Jim, I guess if you truly love me that much, I can stick around for a bit.” I laugh, and quickly glance at the time. “My lunch break is only halfway over, anyway, so I have plenty of time to hang out while you talk to the others.”

Jimmy seems to let out a breath, like he’d been holding it, and grins.

Just as I’m about to start talking again, I hear a ping, and Lister’s face appears on screen, followed by Rowan and Bliss.

“Hey Jimjam, you okay?” Rowan asks, looking as calm as ever. “Oh hey Angel.” He adds. I give him an awkward smile.

“Wait, Angel's here?” Bliss interrupts before Jimmy can answer. “Nice, how’s the week from hell going? Didn’t think we’d hear from you until you’d made it through.”

“Yeah it’s rough, but I’m getting there. This is a welcome distraction though.” I grin at her.

“So you’ve seen the pictures then. They look good, right?” Lister chimes in, before correcting himself. “I mean, it’s horrible they found us, fucking pricks, but you’ve got to admit we look good.”

“You can be so self-centred sometimes.” Bliss laughs.

“Come on Lister, this isn’t a joke.” Rowan chides him.

“Well, I guess he isn’t wrong..” Jimmy mumbles nervously and I see him smile a bit.

“See, Jimmy agrees with me!” Lister argues back at Rowan, who rolls his eyes.

“It’s still not something to laugh about.” Rowan says firmly. “Cecily’s already on damage control, cancelling some events, beefing up the security at others, and giving the tabloids hell. She’s also let your grandad know, Jimmy.”

“Wait, aren’t you guys all down there already?” I ask, confused.

“Nah we got back last night. That picture was taken when we went out for lunch the other day. Took their time printing it.” Lister says.

“Probably needed time to pad out their articles. Seriously, how can they write so many pages about two people dating?” Bliss adds.

“Probably whining about how Jowan is now well and truly dead.” Rowan rolls his eyes again. “Although I have to say, I’m pretty happy about that part.” I cringe slightly as he says that. I will never not regret being one of the Jowan fangirls.

“So Cecily’s already got a plan? That’s good, that’s a bit of a relief.” Jimmy speaks up, looking visibly more relaxed than he had sounded over the phone earlier.

“Yeah she’s got it sorted, so we can start planning our Christmas party!” Lister says, making the others groan.

“Lister what the hell makes you think we should be throwing a massive fucking party right now?!” Rowan says, his voice growing louder. Lister goes quiet, looking like he wants to shrink into his seat, before eventually speaking up again.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be anything big, I just mean… Angel, you’re gonna be in London with Juliet, right? Come over, drag Bliss with you, Jimmy can invite his grandad, Rowan you can bring Jade, and there you go, that’s our party!”

“That’s...actually a good idea.” Rowan says, surprised.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun!” Jimmy adds.

“I’m up for it, Angel, do you think Juliet will wanna come?” Bliss says.

“Hell yeah she would, let’s do it!” I reply with a massive smile on my face. Partying with Bliss and the boys sounds like the best way to spend my Christmas London trip. I’ll make sure to tell Juliet about it when I talk to her later. As I start planning all the food I’m going to bring over, and wondering what the boys’ flat will look like at Christmas, the conversation starts up again.

“You sure you’re doing alright, Jimmy? I can come back home if you need me to.” Rowan says, focusing things on the issue at hand again.

“No no, don’t worry, stay with your family. They’d kill me if I made you miss out on spending time with them.” Jimmy jokes. “I’ve got Lister here, and Cecily’s number if I need it. My head isn’t giving me too much grief right now, anyway.”

“Wait, Lister, you’re there with him?” Bliss asks.

“Yeah, check it out!” Lister says, before picking up his phone and moving. He takes us out of what I think was his room, through a hallway and comes out into a large living room, where we can see Jimmy on a sofa looking at his phone. “Say hi to the chat, Jim!”

Everyone laughs as Jimmy gives an awkward wave to Lister’s phone. Lister then hangs up and launches himself into view of Jimmy’s screen, and the two shuffle about until they’re practically sitting on top of each other, faces

squished together so the tiny phone camera captures them both. I hate how cute they look together.

“Alright, if you’re sure, Jimmy,” Rowan says, smiling for probably the first time this whole call.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jimmy smiles back. “This whole situation is terrifying, and I’m more than ready to hide in my room and not see another mad fangirl for the rest of my life, but... if I did that we’d never get to hang out with Angel again.” He finishes, biting his lip as if unsure of whether or not the joke will hit.

“Uh..ouch!” I clap my hand on top of my heart dramatically and laugh, while the others join in. “I’ll have you know I’ve abandoned my fangirl ways. Mostly. Sort of. Okay, not completely but I’m not shipping real people anymore, so that’s something, right?!”

Lister is giving Jimmy a look of what I can only assume is pride for making a decent joke during a time of peak anxiety, Rowan has his head in his hands, probably contemplating his life choices now that Lister seems to be rubbing off on Jimmy, and Bliss still looks shocked that such a joke came out of Jimmy’s mouth, not Lister’s. When things calm down again, I check the time and speak up again.

“Well this has been fun Jim, but I’m afraid I have mad fangirl duties to be getting back to. Shrines to build, fanfiction to write, you know how it is.” I say sarcastically.

“Thanks again, Angel, for being here, and listening. And you’d better be right about that fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs again, although this time I see his smile falter a bit.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, moving as close to the screen as I can without squishing my face on it. “Things will settle down before you know it, in the meantime, we’re all here for you. You’re not alone in this.” Rowan and Bliss nod in agreement, and I see Lister hug Jimmy closer. Jimmy takes a breath and nods as well.

“Thanks Angel. And good luck with your exam. We’ll see you over the holidays.” He smiles.

“Yeah you got this Angel, go smash it!” Bliss chimes in, giving me a thumbs up and a grin. I say one last goodbye to them all, and hang up.

I look back down at my pizza, still uneaten. I need to stop letting myself get distracted during phone calls. I can eat and talk to my friends at the same time. I’m usually a master at it.

“Fereshteh!” I look up again. Either I’m going loony, or someone just said-

“FERESHTEH!” I turn around and see Mollie and Christina barrelling towards me, with the most excitement I’ve ever seen on a students’ face during exam season. They crash into my table and both start talking at once.

“Have you seen??”

“Did you know??”

“How long have they been together?!”

“Oh my god is this why you won’t tell us about what happened in Kent?!”

“Woah, easy on the interrogation! Seriously, you guys need to work on your interview skills.” I put my hands up in surrender and laugh. Mollie rolls her eyes at me.

“So? Did they tell you or what?” She asks again. I roll my eyes back at her.

“You know I don’t want to tell you guys anything about the boys. They trust me, and I’m not going to fuck that up because of some shit a tabloid prints.”

“How dare you appeal to our morality and ethics, we want gossip dammit!” Christina giggles, lightly banging her fist down on the table.

“Then stick to the Twitter pages.” I stick my tongue out at her. Mollie and Christina are two of my housemates, and are part of the Ark fandom. I never planned on telling them about Kent, but they figured out who I was thanks to the pictures of me and Jimmy on the train. I didn’t think you could tell it was me, but fangirls are like master detectives. They figured it out in less than a week. They haven’t told anyone though, they’re good mates.

“So how are you feeling about all of this? Whether you knew or not, having it out in the press like this is a lot to handle, especially after last time.” Mollie says, now in serious mode.

“It is a lot, definitely, but they’ll be fine. They’ve had this happen before and they know what to expect from the fans. I just wish I could be there for them.” I say, sitting back in my chair.

“I get

that, it must suck that you guys are so far apart now.” Christina chimes in.

“I mean it’s not like we ever lived close to each other before. The only reason we even crossed paths over the summer was because I was staying with a friend. But yeah, being away from them all is kind of hard sometimes.” I sigh dramatically, making Mollie and Christina grin.

“Are you going to visit them over Christmas?” Christina asks.

“I’m definitely going to visit my friend in London again, for a day or two, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to see the boys.” I quickly lie. “They cut back on public events but they’re still really busy most of the time. And this,” I gesture to my phone “definitely won’t help.”

“We’ll keep an eye on fandom updates for you, and try to shut any mentions of Jowan down,” Mollie says, reaching across the table and giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I squeeze hers back and give her a grateful smile. I mostly stopped interacting with the fandom after meeting the boys, reading fanfiction, and discussing theories with other fans just feels weird and creepy to do when the people you’re talking about are your friends. So it’s nice that I have Mollie and Christina looking out for them, and doing what I can’t. Christina has a pretty big following on Tumblr, and Mollie’s a Twitter ace, so I trust them to hold their ground with the fandom.

“Okay, you don’t have to give us any details, but genuinely, what do you think of Lister and Jimmy as a couple? Because I don’t think the fandom could handle a breakup.” Christina says after a while, making me laugh.

“Pfft, yeah I don’t think the boys could handle a breakup, either.” I smile. “But honestly? I think they’ll be good for each other. Lister is good at helping Jimmy relax and step out of his anxiety bubble, and Jimmy can help reign in Lister’s chaotic energy. Plus they’re freaking cute together, I mean just look at this picture!” I finish, gesturing dramatically to my phone again.

“They are so cute!” Mollie nods in agreement. “I’m actually shocked no one thought to ship them together before.”

“That’s the Jowan storm, for you,” Christina adds. “Can’t believe we ever shipped that.”

“So gross.” I shudder at the thought. Suddenly the alarm I’d set this morning went off, making us all jump.

“What’s that?” Mollie asks. I check the screen and practically leap out of my seat.

“Oh shit, my exam starts in 10 minutes!” I say, gathering my stuff up as quickly as I can. I say my goodbyes to Mollie and Christina and start running back across campus to the exam hall.

I make it just in time, much to the invigilator’s chagrin, check my bag in at the desk at the back of the hall, and collapse into my assigned seat. The exam starts, and it’s only when it does that my stomach reminds me that I never actually ate lunch. Shit.

I start to silently scold myself for being so stupid, when my mind starts drifting to the video chat with Jimmy and the others. He and Lister looked so comfortable with each other. Makes sense, they've known each other for so long. But even still, Jimmy looked so much happier once Lister sat down with him, and Lister himself practically seemed at home with Jimmy’s arms wrapped around him. I smile at my exam paper.

I’m so happy for them.

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 17

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: disaster strikes and Kaz has some planning to do

Notes: ugh, once again this is going to get worse but you’ll love it

Taglist:  @mcntsee @amwitherspoon @cxlpxrnia @fcvcritecrime​ @aysegust​ @sagewrites111​ @spawn0fsatan​ @itsemy01 @thedelusionreaderbitch

              Y/N wasn’t surprised when Kaz didn’t come out to see them off in the morning, but she was surprised to see Inej there, looking annoyed.  She approached the smaller woman and folded her arms.  Jesper and Matthias took that as their cue to go make sure the Fabikator and the horses were ready.

              “You didn’t have to lie to him and keep the parem a secret” Inej whispered.   Y/N cocked an eyebrow and felt a little vindicated in knowing that someone would have heard them had she told him.  Inej would have told the leaders, she was one of them now.  “I would have kept it a secret.”  

              “Liar,” Y/N retorted.  “Look, just, give this to Kaz if you see him, I know he might just tear it up but I want him to know how sorry I am and how much I love him.” Inej took the letter and pocketed it quick before Mal came over.  The look he gave her told her that everyone knew she had slept in her own tent last night and she didn’t like the pity.

              “Ready to go?” he asked.  She took one last look around, hoping that maybe he was in the shadows somewhere, still watching her even if she didn’t see him.  She nodded finally and went to climb on her horse.  “Try to just lead him away from us alright?  You don’t have to have the big fight all alone, we just need time.”  

              “If I can kill him, I’m killing him,” she said, urging the horse to walk away.  She took a last glance back and saw the glint of something shiny in the sun and smiled a little.  He had been there, at least, she hoped he had been.  

              It took nearly two days before they found the Darkling, alone in a field, waiting for them.   Y/N had figured he would be setting a trap and she was glad that the Fabrikator had almost finished the amplifier.  Even though it wouldn’t be at full strength it would help.  They stopped about 20 feet from their king and stared.  He smirked.

              “Hello Y/N, please, I know that you are going to try to fight me, and I have heard rumor that you have gotten a Grisha made amplifier, why don’t you put it on?” he asked.   Y/N felt wrong about all of this but before she would say anything the Fabrikator stuck the collar around her neck, sealing it on.  

              “Alright Aleksander, leave now and I won’t have to kill you, just leave us be,” she said, standing ready.  She heard a clinking sound to her right but ignored it. Jesper cried out a warning but by the time she reacted the chain had already been fused to the collar.  The Fabrikator was running towards the Darkling with the chain in his hands.   Y/N tried to stop him, slow his heart, but her power was suddenly gone.  Then with horror she realized that they had been betrayed.

              “You know, the problem with Alina was I gave her a collar, but I forgot to make sure she had her leash,” the Darkling said as the Fabrikator put the chain in his hands.   Y/N’ eyes widened.

              “RUN!” she yelled to the other two.  The Darkling lifted his hands and a shot rang out.  Jesper had fired but the Darkling had assumed this was coming, moving at the last moment so that he was just grazed in the shoulder.  Luckily this gave Matthias time to grab Jesper, pulling him onto his horse before the cut took him out.   Y/N tried to run but was yanked back hard by the Darkling.  She sputtered as she stood again, only to be dragged back another time. This time the Darkling just dragged her to the tree line where a carriage was waiting.  He had the Fabrikator enter before tossing her inside.  He joined her, making sure to sit right next to her as they were driven back to the Little Palace and what she assumed was her execution.  

                Kaz was waiting at the gate for Y/N.  He knew it was too early to expect the group back, but he wanted to be the first person she saw.  He had cooled off from their fight, talked to Inej, hell he even talked to Nina about everything, and both had set him right on what was the real problem.  He understood now that Y/N’s priorities were to save Ravka and to keep him safe, the only way in her mind to do that was to keep herself as the only target.  If she was the only person who had or knew where the parem was then he was safe.  He was an idiot; he would have done the same thing in her situation.  Now he just wanted to set things right and then he was asking her to leave with him.  This place got rot for all he cared, he hated it and wanted out.  He just hoped the Dregs and Y/N would leave with him.

              When Jesper and Matthias came over the horizon Kaz started to walk over but then saw that they were alone.  He felt panic rising in him.  Was she dead?  Captured? Where was Y/N?  The two men got off the horse as other joined Kaz at the gates.

              “We were betrayed,” Matthias said, panting from exertion.  They hadn’t stopped riding since their encounter, and they were exhausted.  Jesper looked at Kaz.

              “The Fabrikator…he made the collar to dampen her powers.  He was the Darkling’s plant here,” he said.  Dammit, Kaz had been weeding out other plants, knowing exactly how to recognize them from his time in Ketterdam and he had missed one.  “He made a chain too, gave it to the Darkling so she couldn’t run from him.”  Nina and Wylan helped the other men back to the camp while Inej and Mal approached Kaz.

              “Brekker, I think we need a thug to handle this,” Mal said after a moment.  Kaz stared at him.  “Can you plan something to help us?

              “I need time to plan,” he said, stomping off without a word to Inej as he went back to his tent.  He couldn’t think right now, everything in his brain was just screaming. She was at the Little Palace, probably going to be executed in some display of power by the Darkling and the last thing he had said to her was that he gave up on her, on them.  He started swinging again, once again breaking everything in sight. Once he was done he looked to the door to see Inej there holding out a letter.

              “ Y/N wanted me to give this to you.  I was hoping that she would be back to tell you herself but now…I’m sorry I kept it,” she said.  Kaz snatched it away and dismissed her with a wave of his hand.  He moved to the cot and sat down, opening the letter.

Kaz,

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the parem.  It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, not really, its that I don’t trust the world anymore.  As soon as I let a secret slip disaster always seems to strike.  As soon as I trust the world is going to work in my favor it cuts me down and I didn’t want that to happen.  I never lied about how I felt about you.  I love you more than I thought I possibly could love anyone.  Remember back when you proposed to me?  Next time someone asks me my full name I’m saying Y/N Brekker because it was yes then and its yes now.  Hope I can see you soon, I miss holding your hand.

Love,

Y/N

              Kaz leaned his head to his hand and for the first time since Jordie he cried.  It was like he broke and every time something bad had happened to him came rushing to him, bringing out desperate sobs.  He knew what she meant about trusting the world, the world never cared about him just like it didn’t care about her.  He cared about her and he had thrown that in her face.  He took a deep breath and finally pulled himself together.  He put the letter under his pillow before getting a pen and paper of his own and writing out two things, one was instructions for Jesper and the second was something for Y/N.  Then Kaz stood and let the tears and sadness behind.  It was time for Kaz to lay low while Dirtyhands came out to play.  

              First, he found Jesper and gave him the instructions and the letter, telling him that if he read the letter that Kaz would personally rip his eyeballs from his face.  Jesper took the instructions and went to work.  Second, Kaz called a meeting of the Dregs and Mal.  He had a plan and it needed to be put into action immediately.  Finally, he told Nina that after the meeting they needed to have a talk.  Once the Dregs were assembled and Mal had sat down Kaz started.

              “Jesper is already on his way to the Little Palace,” Kaz started.  There was a gasp and Wylan actively gagged on his saliva in surprise, coughing loudly.

              “Why in the hell is he going there?” Mal asked. Kaz threw him a glare.  He was in the middle of his plan and Mal needed to fall in line or it wouldn’t work.

              “He is going because I kicked him out of the resistance, and he is going to tell the Darkling that.  Jesper came back empty handed, a Grisha returned to us without Y/N, what use is a Grisha if he can’t use his powers to protect his comrades?” Kaz asked.  Mal’s mouth fell open, he had been the only one in that room unaware of Jesper’s abilities. “He is going to go to the Little Palace and tell them everything he knows about the resistance, proving his loyalty.  We are going to evacuate and head south, just outside of Os Alta and ready for an attack.”

              “We don’t have those numbers…” Mal started.  Inej shushed him.

              “No, we don’t but by the time we reach Os Alta we will. Matthias is going to go to Frejda and gather the small army from there, and Kuwei will go to Shu Han and tell them what happened to his father,” he said.  “Make sure they know that the Darkling is ready to attack everyone, he’s not only after Ravka, he wants everywhere under his control.”

              “Why would they believe that?  He has been relatively peaceful with them before,” Mal said. Kaz smirked and he could tell that made Mal uncomfortable.

              “Before she was taken Y/N and I were planning an all out war with the Darkling, we drafted counterfeit proclamations of war to the Frejdans and the Shu, which they will be receiving just before Matthias and Kuwei arrive,” he said.  “After we have gathered this army we will attack, in which case I assume that the Darkling will try to use Y/N’s power against us using that collar he created. But we’re going to have its creator in our camp before then and he will tell us how to remove the collar.”

              “How will we get him?” Inej asked.  

              “A good question, you will be getting him out of the Little Palace throw a series of tunnels that Y/N created there while she was serving the Darkling, she drew a map for me,” he said, producing the paper, showing several tunnels that led in and out of the Palace.  “You will have to be more careful than ever before Inej, she didn’t know if the Darkling found these tunnels and sealed them or is guarding them.  Once inside Jesper should have the Fabrikator ready for you.”

              “How will we get the Fabrikator to talk?  If he was willing to betray us once he might lie,” Wylan said, still looking sick that Jesper was walking into the Darkling’s stronghold.  

              “That is for me and Nina to worry about.  Shall we Nina?” Kaz extended his gloved hand to her. She took it with an uneasy sigh and he pulled her out of the tent to explain the final, and most difficult, part of his plan.

[itsclydebitches]

Title: Mightier Than the Sword

Fandom: Witcher

Summary: A month after the events of "Rare Species," Geralt slinks his way into an inn and is faced with the question of how an emotionless man apologies. (TV!canon with some details drawn from the books and Wild Hunt.)

Pairing: Pre-slash Geralt and Jaskier 

Word Count: 2,568

Where to read it: Below or on AO3 

A/N: It’s a Christmas miracle! Look at me making an attempt at writing. I figured that if season one was going to leave us in that horrible place with Jaskier and Geralt’s relationship I’d just have to start fixing it myself 👍

The storm had raged for two days and looked as if it had enough life in it for a third. When Geralt shouldered his way into the inn he felt like there was a kikimore on the other side, so strong was the wind keeping slabs attached to frame. When he finally managed and let the door slam shut behind him, catching his heel and dimming the storm’s voice, he found a number of glares leveled his way, the patrons none too pleased at the cold interruption. Dropping his hood did not improve matters.

One man splendid in rotting clothes and stained teeth spat as soon as he saw Geralt’s hair. Another flinched away from his eyes. Still another pretended to keep attention on his food but Geralt caught the inquisitive looks he snuck, far worse than any hatred. The curious only thought they were kinder.

“Witcher,” said a fourth. That tone spread through the room. Apparently Jaskier’s ballads hadn’t reached this corner of the world yet.

Geralt found his seat and kept his back to the wall.

For all the poverty he’d passed through in this town the inn at least was holding its own. The horse hair plaster did little to warm the space, but the many bodies and roaring fire made up for the lack of insulation. The room was otherwise dark. Comforted in the soft chatter and the simple blessing that, though they might growl, no one was inclined to approach him. Geralt took a moment to merely sit, listening to the drip of water from his cloak and the clink of spoons against bowls. The latter made his stomach ache something fierce and with a sigh Geralt stood, approaching the bar.

The innkeep took one look at his threadbare clothes and went back to cleaning his nails. Geralt slid what little coin he had across the counter.

“Oats,” he said. “For the chestnut mare outside.”

“This look like a ploughing stable to you?”

“Does this metal look fake to you?”

Geralt spoke of the coin. Might have meant his sword. Either understanding worked just fine. The innkeep pocketed his meager offering in a flash.

“Doesn’t get your bitch much,” he said, but moved to the back regardless, presumably to make up a pail. Geralt traced his movements just long enough for reassurance before heading back to the fire. His knuckles creaked and when he grimaced the skin of his lips split.

As he sat that hole in his stomach grew wider, deeper, pulled him down stronger than gravity herself and Geralt had to plant his feet against the wave of dizziness that hit. Even witchers were susceptible to starvation. Obviously he would have preferred food for both himself and Roach, but work hadn’t been kind to him these last few weeks. Oh, there were plenty of monsters, just few people willing to pay for their demise. As he’d once told Jaskier, the two rarely went hand-in-hand.

...must be the hunger addling his brain. Geralt knew of no other reason why he should think so much on a bard who was no longer bound to him. He’d severed that tie himself, over a month past.

“Endings,” Geralt said. To Roach, really. The conversation had picked up enough to cover his voice and he knew his horse was just beyond the wall, sheltered beneath the hanging roof of the inn. “It was bound to happen eventually. Best to do it on my own terms.”

If pressed Geralt might have admitted to catching that snort. As if Roach had heard, understood, and had more than her fair share to say about that claim. But he held his ground. Jaskier would have left, and all the better for it. Over the last few weeks Geralt had pictured the man lying prone on Yennefer’s bed. Thought over the advice he’d given about heading to the coast. Become antsy during the long stretch of silences and could only admit now that he’d grown used to Jaskier’s singing. The memories of his songs had settled in the back of his mind, rooting there with a determination that fit their author. More than once Geralt had caught himself humming a tune when there was no one else to hear it.

Yes. There were things he... missed. But better to miss them now while they shown bright in his memory. There would have come a day when Jaskier would no longer ask to accompany him to far off places. Where his songs would warn of a witcher’s violence and treachery, rather than simply lying through his teeth. There may have even come a time when he fell and no sorceress, not even one of Yennerfer’s skill, could save him. Geralt knew this as surely as he knew the weight of his own sword.

Jaskeir would have grown to hate him whether he’d held his foolish tongue or not. That was a destiny Geralt could believe in.

He’d just resolved to meditate until the phrase ‘Toss a coin to your witcher’ finally left his head—its repetition had certainly not brought the command into reality—when a plate was dumped in front of him, steaming meat and crispy potatoes. A bit of relish dotted the top, specific to the region as Geralt didn’t recognize the spices. The smell was enough for him to draw a sharp breath though, swallowing it like that might fill the hole in his stomach. He forced himself to look up into the eyes of a plain woman and kept his hands away from the table's edge.

“I didn’t order this,” Geralt said.

The woman smiled. “I know.”

Hmm. “You misunderstand. I don’t have coin to pay for this.” A drink was set beside the plate. The smell of steamed milk had Geralt briefly closing his eyes.

The woman chuckled. At his longing or whatever game she played, he didn’t know. Perhaps both. Though Geralt had an inkling that he had misjudged her when she pushed the plate closer, a chipped nail tapping its edge.

“It’s you who’s not understandin’” she said. “Coin’s already in the pocket. Mine, not my lout of a brother over there.” Her head jerked towards the innkeep. “Pretty bard was in here just a mo’ ago. Went pale as milk when he saw ye. Thought the poor boy was gonna faint! But he recovered, sure as anything, and gave me a handful of silver before slippin’ out the back. Had stern instructions that I get you a hearty dinner so now here I am, doin’ jus’ that. You won’t catch Sinah goin’ back on her word, no sir. So go on. Eat your fill, witcher. More where that came from if you’ve a mind to have it,” and Sinah inched the plate ever closer.

Geralt’s gaze was on the hearth though. He stared at the flames and tried to ignore how the smell of meat had gone sour. “A bard?”

“Aye. As said, a pretty thing. More dolled up than we’re likely to get ‘round these parts. Sang a bit for his own meal before settlin’ in the back. Quiet. Fidgety. Like a mouse before the cat. Specially when he caught sight of that hair o’ yours. Thought he might be a monster himself—one of those dopple things, if you know my meaning—up until he asked me to serve ye. Odd that. I’ll not have my cookin’ go to waste though. I’ll take it back if—hey now!”

But Geralt was already up and on the move because he’d heard it. Muttering something about saving his plate, he was across the room with a dexterity only a witcher could manage, dodging legs, chairs, spilled drinks, all in near darkness. Throwing himself out into the gale that sound grew stronger. No one else would have heard it above the storm, but Geralt followed it like a clear, melodious bell.

Someone was speaking to Roach. Jaskier was speaking to Roach.

A little ways down the path to avoid a small river forming, around the corner of the inn. Geralt slipped into the shadows created by the overhang and blinked at the sudden assault on his vision. Jaskier was dressed entirely in purple and pink, a beacon amid the grays of the night. Geralt’s first thought upon spotting him was that his clothing was a monstrosity all its own and he would happily accept a contract to dispose of it.

Then, ears perking like a wolf’s, Geralt focused on the conversation.

“—hardly deserves it,” Jaskier was saying, using Roach’s neck to hide from a particularly sodden gust of wind. His mare put up with it, long familiar with the man’s proximity. “Though I suppose that you could technically make an argument for reciprocation. If I am owed a ten percent cut of whatever work he secures thanks to my genius ballads, then perhaps I owe him ten percent of whatever I earn thanks to his heroics. Yes, yes. I know I’m not supposed to be touching you, but I’m not see? I’m touching your saddlebags. Geralt can’t get mad about that, can he?”

He could, yet astoundingly Geralt found that he was not. How could he be when the light of the moon showed Jaskier slipping coin into the side pocket where Geralt was sure to find it? Shivering, drenched to the bone, Jaskier continued to give up his riches, smiling all the while. Geralt could see it even from the shadows. Noted the melancholy grip on its edge. He looked away—again—and this time told himself that it was so his shining eyes didn’t give him away. The excuse sounded weak even within his own head.

“Just a bit to tide him over,” Jaskier said, continuing to pour more than “a bit” into various pockets. “And you of course! No need to tell him I was here, but you should make sure he buys you plenty of carrots. You need more than these wet oats... oh by the gods those look disgusting. I’m sorry, girl. I’d sneak back in to get you something as well but... ah.... not sure ‘sneaking’ and ‘White Wolf’ go well together. Our King of Brooding would spot me for sure and then where would I be? Suffering another punch I’d wager. And given our last meeting I don’t think Geralt would settle for aiming at my gut. Sorry, girl, but this face is just too beautiful to risk.”

Another sliver coin glinting from the shadows. An endless wave of prattle just under the rain. Geralt listened as Jaskier told Roach all about his travels over the last month, how audiences were growing weary of the ballads he had, demanding new, exciting tales. Jaskier had nothing to give them. Though that was fine. Grand even! Challenge and limitation, the bread and butter of an artist. He would find a way and until then he’d help others find there’s. Even grumpy witchers.

“I’m his friend, after all,” Jaskier said. It came out quieter than all the rest. “That’s what the foolish man doesn’t realize. Hardly matters whether he’s my friend. Doesn’t stop me from being his. Really, all those mutated brains and he’s dumb as a goat half the time. He’s lucky he’s gorgeous.” Roach tossed her head, knocking into Jaskier’s and drawing a chuckle. “Knew you’d agree with that, girl. There now. All loaded up? Excellent. I’m going to go dry off now. I will not allow this storm to ruin my new outfit,” and he did a little twirl, showing off the decorative stitching. “Stunning? Why yes, I’m quite aware. Never hurts to hear it though. Thank you, darling.”

Jaskier planted a quick kiss on her muzzle, whispered not to tell, and with a wink slipped away. Geralt took note of the house he was renting a room from and then returned to the inn.

He found Sinah in the back removing a man’s hand from her waist. She followed him to his seat, the meat and potatoes now cold. Geralt shoveled forkfuls down regardless.

“You said the bard’s coin would get me more?”

Sinah inclined her head. “Aye. Wanting a second plate, do you?”

“No, but I’ll take paper and quill if you have it.”

If she found the request odd she didn’t show it. Sinah left and returned with the speed of a wraith, depositing pulpy parchment and a vile of ink heavily watered down. It was enough. Geralt inclined his head in turn, the most respectful gesture she’d seen all day, and the two parted with satisfaction on both sides. Geralt put aside a third of his meal for Roach before finishing the rest with a speed that would have choked a human man. Done, he set about composing a list.

He was no poet. Geralt hadn’t the words to describe his contracts with anything other than the blunt language spoken by all witchers. Still, he made an effort to include details. He wrote about the noonwraith he’d dispatched three towns over, only to find that the residents had but an eighth of the coin they’d originally promised. Geralt had looked at their own sunken cheeks, taken half of that eighth, and been on his way. After that had come the drowner colony, but no one cared to pay for what amounted to a pest—even a dangerous one. There were the men who’d succeeded in both putting a hole in his cloak as well as forfeiting their lives. The young woman who looked much like Sinah but had none of her honor, attempting to lure Geralt into a robbery through false tears. The ghoul whose liver he'd eaten when he couldn’t sell it. The curse he’d lifted for a roof over his head. The nekkers that had managed to drain the rest of his energy before he’d finally collapsed here. It was all common work. The witcher equivalent of doing one’s chores. It was only Jaskier’s voice in his head that told Geralt any of this might interest another.

The whole thing filled five pages and took the length of time required to dry his socks. There was no signature. The writing was splotchy and the paper now smelled of rain. Geralt folded it with all the care he’d give to cleaning his sword.

It wasn’t an apology because witchers didn’t do apologies. Geralt wasn’t even sure he’d know how to give one if required... though this was probably as close as he’d get. He would not think on what Jaskier had done to earn the attempt.

Instead, Geralt planned to sop up the remaining juice on his plate and lick his fingers clean. He would return the inkwell to Sinah and, when the rest of him was dry, he’d ruin it all by going back out into the storm, across the weeds, into the room where Jaskier slept with lute and clothes as flamboyant as a peacock. Geralt’s notes would look like a pauper’s trifle next to the rest of his belongings, but perhaps Jaskier could spin them into something grand.

Indeed, perhaps someday soon there would be another inn, a new ballad, and this time Jaskier would choose to stay. Geralt wouldn't deserve that, but he found himself thinking on it nonetheless. Treacherous thoughts that circumvented destiny and warmed him far better than the fire.

Until then, Geralt curled in on himself and let the music he already knew wash over him.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi! Can you rec some canon slow burn fics? I love that kind of thing, friends to lovers, case fics etc. I am also new to the fandom and let me tell you - your blog is amazing. ♡

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: Hi Steph, do you know of any slow build/first proclamation of love fics? Preferably told from Sherlock’s POV or a mix of both, something like “A Road Less Traveled” by verityburns? Thanks

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: do you know any really long slow burn fics that don’t have smut? sorry i really just don’t like smut cause im ace

Hi Nonnies!

First of all, thank you so much for your kind words about my blog, Nonny 1!! I’m glad you’re enjoying it, and welcome to the fandom!!

Second of all, of course I can rec y’all some slow burn fics! I’ve a lot of them! I’ll just give them all to you, and y’all can filter out the AU fics / POV fics, etc. because I always write in my tags if it’s an AU / POV fic if I remember :)

Nonny 3, just check out the fics below for anything not rated above T, and you should be good

Love you, Nonnies, and I hope you find something you’re looking for! (thought I did LOL) so I’ve added it to my MFL section!

FALLING IN LOVE / SLOW BURN / DEV. REL.

See also:

T-RATED Pt. 1: Friends To Lovers Fics || [MOBILE LINK]

Friends to Lovers [FULL POST] || [MOBILE POST]

First Time || [MOBILE]

John Will Never Forget by gelos (bia_mpinto) (NR, 244 w. || Fluff, First Time, Love Confessions) – John will never forget Sherlock’s everything.

Of Locks and Keys by Youarethelightoftheworld (G, 574 w. || H/C, Angst, Falling in Love, Friendship) – He listens to the steady beating of John’s heart and thinks of his own; weak and vulnerable, but aching to be released.

A Need To Know Basis by mattsloved1 (G, 934 w. || Humour, Romance) – As the cab door shut firmly, the DI had yelled out they were to make an appearance at Scotland Yard the next day. It was while John watched London pass by that it happened.

Moonshine by CKLizzy (T, 1,408 w. || Cuddling / Snuggling, Touching, Dev. Rel., Bed Sharing, Comfort, Touching) – Sometimes, routines changed. Sequel to “Nightfall”. Part 2 of Solace

I love you, I say by khoshekhskitten (G, 1,576 w. || Pre & Post TRF, Hurt / Comfort, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – “I love you” is a phrase that follows John Watson through his life with Sherlock Holmes.

Blanket Burrito by All_I_need (G, 1,894 w. || Tooth Rotting Fluff, Pining Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Sort-Of Love Confession) – John, a blanket-wrapped burrito of laughing sunshine in a ratty t-shirt, notices. Of all the moments for him to be observant, this is the one he chooses.

Five Times Sherlock gave John a Pebble and One Time John Returned the Gesture by grimmfairy (NR, 1,895 w. || Love Confessions, Penguins and Pebbles, Nervous / Pining Sherlock, Oblivious John) – Sherlock isn’t good with words, so he decides to tell John his feelings the way penguins do, by bringing him pebbles with different meanings. John catches on.

Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil by PipMer (T, 1,895 w. || Deaf John, Mute Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Fluff and Angst, Character Study, Morse Code, Love Confessions) – John is deaf. Sherlock is mute. There are no two people more suited for each other.

Duvet (green) by Mazarin221b (G, 2,021 w. || Post-THoB, Mind Palace, Revelations, First Kiss) – Sherlock recalibrates and restructures his mind palace so it looks like 221b. What he chooses to put in John’s room is a bit of a surprise, and a revelation.

The Importance of Torn Papers by MyLittleCornerOfSherlock (G, 2,427 w || Pre-Slash, Love Declarations, Fluff) – Little things make a big difference, even little notes of thanks. Small reminders to show he cares.

Where You Are by Mazarin221b (E, 2,478 w. || Beach Sex, First Time, Fluff, Smut, Holidays, Pining) – He can admit he’s secretly a little glad Sherlock didn’t come with him. He needs a break. Sherlock is a handful at the best of times, and the near-constant apologizing, fixing, dealing-with, and following up on is exhausting. The near-constant unrequited attraction is a bit exhausting, too, to be honest, and John could really use a tiny bit of rest from the relentless hammering on his brain and heart.

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

A Bit of Indulgence by beltainefaerie (NR, 3,364 w. || Fake Relationship, Pride Parade, Declarations of Love, Fluff, Dev. Rel., Case Fic) – A case leads John and Sherlock to fake being boyfriends and John runs into an old acquaintance.

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands by miss_frankenstein (T, 3,731 w. || Kissing in the Rain, Angst With Happy Ending) – In which John and Sherlock finally confront their feelings for each other - as only they would do - in the pouring rain.

Tell Me a Secret, Sherlock Holmes. by DaringlyDomestic (NR, 3,880 w. || Love Confessions, Truth or Dare, Smut, Gentle Explicit Love, Microscopic Angst) – John’s voice is low and seductive, sending a shiver of want crackling through his stomach. Sherlock’s heart beats frantically against his ribcage, and his breathing grows fast as he feels John’s lips flutter against the sensitive skin of his neck. The kiss, if it could really be called that, is so quick and so light that Sherlock is almost convinced he had imagined it. Part 9 of Tumblr Drabble Challenge

Five Times John Cooked Something with Peas and One First Kiss by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (T, 3,915 w. || 5 and Ones, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Cooking / Food, Sick Sherlock, Music, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss) – After John cooks five dinners that slowly reveal their hunger for each other, Sherlock and John finally share a first kiss.

Jukebox by standbygo (T, 3,990 w. || Fluff, Singing/Music, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Humour, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – After the music halls of Sherlock’s mind palace get damaged by accident, John learns that Sherlock never forgets a song. Even the ones he’d rather forget. But the random singalong brings some unexpected benefits.

The Sum of His Parts by CommonNonsense (T, 4,311 w. || Body Worship, Pining, First Time) – There are eleven major organ systems in the human body. Sherlock knows about all of them to some degree, but none fascinate him as much as the ones that make up John Watson.

Law of Reciprocals by thequeergiraffe (T, 4,377 w. || Fluff, Angst) – “Law of Reciprocals, is it? You’ve saved my life enough times. I figure, turnabout’s fair play.” Sherlock finds ways to reciprocate his appreciation of John.

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

A Quiet Murmuration by cathedral_carver (T, 4,684 w. || Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing) – Just pay me back with one thousand kisses.

Confessions by crimsonwinter (T, 4,711 w. || Love Confessions, Fluff) – John and Sherlock finally confess their love for each other.

How Will I Know? by eragon19 (E, 4,895 w. || Pining, Love Confessions, POV Sherlock, Fluff, Sherlock’s Imagination, Papa Lestrade) – Here was the problem: Sherlock Holmes was completely and irrevocably in love with John Watson, and he had absolutely no idea how to tell him.

Laid Bare by esplanade (T, 6,529 w. || Romance, Fluff, Pining, Angst) – “I suppose it comes as no surprise that I always rather detested grand romantic gestures. They struck me as unnecessary and contrived, feeble attempts at desperately holding together relationships, most of which should have been allowed to fall apart.”

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

Speak My Language by Itsallfine (T, 7,479 w. || Thanksgiving, Love Languages, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When Mrs. Hudson introduces John and Sherlock to the concept of the five love languages, Sherlock descends into a dark mood and John’s curiosity gets the better of him. What is Sherlock’s love language, and why does the whole concept set him so on edge? Part 1 of A Holiday Triptych]

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

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

Ravish Me by amalnahurriyeh (E, 10,025 w. || UST / RST, Makeup / Lipstick, Sympathetic Sally, Experiments, Pining John, First Kiss, Face Fucking / BJ’s, Cuddling) – Sherlock is experimenting with patterns of wear on lipstick in daily encounters. John is going to go insane.

You fit me, Sherlock Holmes by orphan_account (G, 10,077 w. || Fluff, Slow Burn, Idiots in Love, Experiments) – An unfortunate series of events leads to John accepting being a part of Sherlock’s study in physical intimacy. As the days pass by, John realizes he might be in for more than he bargained for. He doesn’t entirely mind.

The River Variations by withoutawish (T, 11,619 w. || Soulmates, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Three Garridebs, Romance, Light Case Fic, Near Death Experience, Angst and Fluff) – John Watson never knew that he wanted a ‘no toast in the mornings’ normal until he realized what an honor it is to be destroyed by Sherlock Holmes.

The Nutcracker by Odamaki (T, 13,758 w. || Nutcracker AU ||  Christmas, Dark Magic, Dolls) – Sherlock is unimpressed with Uncle Rudy’s present. A doll? What does he want with a doll?

Pattern Behaviour by SilentAuror (E, 14,835 w. || POV First Person Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Introspection, Stroppy Sherlock, Light Humour, Friendship, John Takes Care of Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Wall Kisses, Fluffy Angst, Happy Ending) – Sherlock doesn’t even know why he resents John’s dates so much. Until the day he does know. Slight angst, unrequited feelings (but don’t let that scare you off!)

Merlot by Itsallfine (E, 14,844 w. || Christmas, Pining Sherlock, Wine, Slow Burn, First Kiss / Time, Love Confessions, Wine, Holmes Family) – Sherlock and John work toward becoming something more as they prepare to host the Holmes parents at 221B for the holidays. Part of 25 Days of Fic-Mas 2015.

Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E, 15,139 w. || Fake Relationship, Christmas, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Angst & Fluff, BJ’s, Anal) – John is invited to his aunt’s Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John’s family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock.

Everlasting by cypress_tree (M, 16,884 w. || Magical Realism, First Time, Immortality, Angst & Fluff) – Most lives end. A Tuck Everlasting fusion, in which the Holmes brothers have lived for a very, very long time.

Uncharted Territory by J_Baillier (T, 19,603 w. || Dystopian Future / Black Mirror AU || Angst, Drama, Homophobia, Bisexuality, Technology, Humour, Romance, Near Future, Happy Ending) – The System puts people through a series of assigned relationships in order to determine who their Perfect Match is. John believes that it works; Sherlock really, really doesn’t. One of them is probably going to be wrong.

At the Heart of it All by SilentAuror (E, 19,812 w. || Virgin Sherlock, Post S3, POV John, Domestics, First Time, Kissing, Romance) – John has been back at Baker Street for four months now and thinks it’s about time they had the Talk to see whether or not they could be more than friends. Sherlock has a lot of uncertainty about this concept for multiple reasons. Unabashed romance.

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

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

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

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock’s parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn’t understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John’s request.

Maintaining A Personal Life by Gingerhermit (E, 24,284 w. || Alternating POV’s, Bisexuality, BAMF!John, Romance / Drama, Sort-of Case Fic, Peril & Angst, Love Confessions, Toplock, Soft Idiots in Love, Post S3) – Sherlock and John discover some interesting revelations about each other’s sexuality, which lead them both to question the assumptions they’ve made about one another for years. In the midst of their mutual discoveries, a dangerous psychopath looms on the side-lines who threatens to destroy their new beginning.

Tomorrow’s Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w. || Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

Dropping the Act by jadztone (T, 27,258 w. || Parentlock, Fake Relationship, Mary’s Family, Post-S4, Cuddling & Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Pining, Christmas) – Sherlock and John are quite happy living together with Rosie in Baker St. They might be even happier if they didn’t act towards each other like their love is only platonic. Mycroft brings troubling news in the form of Mary’s parents wanting to know just what their grandchild’s home life is like. The boys decide to spend Christmas pretending like they are in love in order to seem more like a “normal” family. It’s easy enough to pretend when all you’re doing is dropping the act.

Don’t Leave Anything Out by lookupkate (E, 27,422 w. || Epistolary, Falling in Love, Misunderstandings, Alternate First Meeting) – The first letter John writes home from Afghanistan is meant to go to a woman he went on only one date with. How it ends up in Sherlock’s hands is completely innocent. What happens next is not. What do you do when you find out the person you’re in love with has been lying about something as monumental as who they are? What do you do when you’re the one who lied? How on earth do you put the pieces back together?

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

Another Auld Lang Syne by DiscordantWords (M, 30,234 w. || Post S4, Mutual Pining, Alternating POV, Introspection, Parentlock, Christmas, New Year’s, First Kiss, Past Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending, Drinking, Sherlock Whump) – There had been years of missed chances.

The Kissing Disease by cottonballz_of_death (E, 30,856 || Sickfic, Angst with Happy Ending, Case Fic, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Jealous Sherlock, Body Image Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional H/C, POV Sherlock, Oral / Anal, Thong, Frottage) – John brings home a boyfriend, shocking Sherlock, who long ago gave up hope that his straight flatmate would ever take a romantic interest in him. In a bid to reconnect with John, he tries to infect himself with a “harmless” virus. Neither of them is prepared for the emotional fallout that results.

Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein (T, 31,987 w. || College/Uni AU || Professor John, Ph.D Student Sherlock, Pining John, Poetry, Falling in Love / Slow Burn, Light Angst, Happy Ending) – John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

Five Times They Kissed for a Case, and One Time They Kissed for Real by fleetwood_mouse (M, 32,406 w. || 5+1, Slow Burn, Fluff / Angst, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers) – A stolen ring! An artful blogger! And many more adventures for your enjoyment.

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

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John’s POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice) – Clara’s American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she’s also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she’s placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

The Boy Who Drank Stars by kinklock (E, 36,157 w. || Howl’s Moving Castle AU || Witches and Wizards, Slow Burn, Magic, Jealous John, Happy Ending, Bed Sharing) – “I’m looking for a castle,” John informed the scarecrow. “A moving one.”Except that, as it turned out, it was not a moving one at all.

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

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (M, 39,968 w. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Indifelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

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

The Soul Remembers by i_ship_an_armada (E, 43,636 w. || Oblivion AU || Post-Apocalypse, Movie Fusion, Science Fiction, Action/Adventure, Angst, Dreams, Bittersweet Ending) – John Watson is the lone security repairman stationed on a desolate, nearly-ruined future Earth. His dreams are plagued by a tall, dark-haired man, and when his dreams meet reality, he will be forced to question everything he believes is the truth about his life.

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

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

The Norwood Love Builders by flawedamythyst (T, 47,798 w. || Fake Relationship, Slow Burn, Post TRF Angst) – Sherlock and John go undercover to solve the murder of Joanna Oldacre, but things are complicated by the many feelings John has been repressing in the wake of Sherlock’s faked death and return.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most.An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete.(This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

Triage by scullyseviltwin (E, 51,612 w. || Character Injury, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock’s mind goes exceedingly, devastatingly quiet and gray-blank. When he speaks it’s through a thick haze, it’s through molasses, he’s so disconnected from the words that it may as well be the unconscious shooter speaking.

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Sherlock AU, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Alternate First Meeting) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family’s private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it’s time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape, BAMF John) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

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

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

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w. || Notting Hilll AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant – but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (E, 62,006 w || First Person Sherlock POV, Pining, Angst, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Sherlock Learns About Himself, Happy Ending) – Sherlock struggles with his feelings for John, makes a mistake, and learns just how important he and John are to each other. Non-BBC Mary / John, but it’s a *complicated* relationship.

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief…

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

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he’s a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover’s trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world’s highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

A Case of Identity by jkay1980 (T, 91,009 w. || Fake Relationship, Post-TRF, Case Fic) – John and Sherlock have succeeded in rebuilding their friendship after Sherlock’s fake suicide, but an unusual case puts their relationship to the test. They pretend to be engaged and attend a marriage counseling workshop. Under the pretext of the case, Sherlock turns out to be a master of seduction, and John finally learns he might like Sherlock more than he thought. Slowly, John discovers that he loves Sherlock not only in a friendly, brotherly way, but both men have to fight their own demons before they can think of taking their relationship to a new level…

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

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

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

Eyes Up, Heels Down by CodenameMeretricious (E, 107,845 w. || Sports Equestrian AU || Fluff, Angst, Humour, Rider!Sherlock, Groomer!John, Show Jumping, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) – Sherlock is a top eventing rider currently training at Baker Farms. John is the new groom who’s been told to steer clear of the surly rider and his horses. Part 1 of Baker Farms

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship’s surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there’s more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin’ the eye, he has to choose… is it a pirate’s life for him?

To Light Another’s Path by BeautifulFiction (E, 128,654 w. || Post-TGG, Sick Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction / Recreational Drug Use, First Time / Kiss, Case Fic) – Teaching John to observe seems to be a losing battle, but when Sherlock falls ill and submits himself to John’s care, will he realise that there is more to life than the science of deduction? Meanwhile, there is a murder to solve, and John must try and convince Sherlock not to sacrifice his own health for the sake of the case.

Colors by Quesarasara (E, 140,537 w. || Pleasantville-Inspired AU || Soulmates, Colour Bonds, Alternating POV, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Case Fic, Medical Procedures) – Everyone on earth is born with eyes that see in black, white, and an endless series of greys. When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color. We’re all searching for the person who brings color to our lives. John and Sherlock are no exception. Part 1 of The Colors ‘Verse

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn’t have much choice. There’s only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate’s secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn’t he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock’s past as events conspire to threaten their future.

MARKED FOR LATER

(these are fics I have in my MFL list for future reading and have not read them yet. Read at your own discretion).

And Then There Were Two by NimWallace (T, 10,194 w. || Post S4, Mutual Pining, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Angst, Grief / Mourning, Mystery, Cults) – It’s quiet at Baker Street. Too quiet. It’s been a year since Mary died, but only a few months since the events of the Final Problem, and Sherlock and John have fallen into a state of despairing and monotony. So when a case involving a vicious cult on the English Country side appears, they quickly jump to go undercover as Sean Harmony and John Wales. But how can Sherlock keep a delicate John from breaking? And how can John come to terms with his love for his detective? Most importantly, what really happened the night of the Final Problem?

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can’t be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade’s team and something happens that will change everything about their lives…

What Friends Do by agirlsname (E, 23,177 w. || Post-ASiP Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Infidelity, First Kiss/Time, Fluff and Smut, Cuddling and Snuggling, Platonic-to-Not-Platonic, Blow/Hand Jobs, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock has never had a friend before. He didn’t even know he wanted one until John moved into 221B. But John quickly becomes essential to him, and their friendship turns more and more intimate. It’s all platonic, of course. All perfectly normal for close friends. Part 1 of the Friends series

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,505 w. || Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes & Funerals, Angst, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression and Insecurity, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock’s closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don’t need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

Focal Point by PuffleLock (E, 60,913 w. || Post-TRF Divergence / Different Reunion, POV John, Slow Burn, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Sad Wank, Sherlock in Makeup, Dancing, Mentions of Torture / Depression / PTSD, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Scars, Rimming, Anal, Toplock, First Kiss / Time, Gay Sherlock / Bi John) – John comes home early from a medical conference to find that every once in awhile, Sherlock can surprise the hell out of him. Can John surprise him back?

First and Only by crimsonwinter (E, 68,390 w. || Kid/Teen/Unilock, Family Drama, Romance, Alternating POV, Slow Burn, Angst & Fluff, Rimming, Anal, Fingering, Grinding/Frottage, Sexual Tension, Oral, Virginity, Switchlock) – Sherlock and John have been inseparable since birth, working through life as neighborhood best friends, attached at the hip. Unfortunately, reality can break up even the closest of us, and John and Sherlock struggle through all that growing up entails. But first loves are unforgettable, and the boys come to realize that their love is the first and only they’ll ever have.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Road Less Traveled Series by verityburns (M, 75,130 w. across 3 works || First Kiss / Time, POV Sherlock First Person, Angst & Fluff, Romance) – Sherlock realises that John’s dating habits involve an unacceptable level of risk… what if he meets an unusually tolerant woman and ends up getting married?

Philia and Eros by distantstarlight (E, 84,660 w. || Historical AU || Friends to Lovers, Time Travel, Kilts, Possessive Behaviour, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Implied Rape/Non-Con) – Love is timeless but time isn’t necessarily linear. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes are about to embark on an unintended adventure that will take them far away from the comfortable confines of 221 B Baker Street. Part 1 of Strange Paths

How Long? by TheBritishBourbon (M, 111,010 w. || Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Sherlock, Protective John, PTSD Sherlock, Flashbacks, Dark Themes, Implied Torture) – Sherlock never got to jump off the roof of St. Barts, he never got the chance. Sherlock was abducted and held for 5 years, but now he has escaped. What awaits him as he returns to reality? Part 1 of How Long Universe

Did you feel it? : A soulmates AU by MorganeUK (G, 126,783 w. || Soulmates AU || Kid/Teen/Unilock, Protective Greg, Angst, Big Feels, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Mystrade, Injuries, Slow Burn, Anxious John, BAMF John, Protective John, Est. Rel., Happy Ending) – In a world where 0.01% of the population have a soulmate with whom they share pains and violent emotions… what are the odds that an ex-army doctor and an ex-addict detective open their heart and soul enough to found each others?Finally writing a twist on the soulmates trend… Hope you like it!

“Merry Christmas” I wrapped it up and sent it with a note saying “I love you” by starrysummernights (E, 136,580+ w. || WIP, chapter missing? || Post S4, Slow Burn, Mary is Not Nice, Christmas, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Parentlock, Past Torture / Rape) – John has moved back into 221B with his daughter Rosie after Mary was killed, but things are not exactly comfortable between him and Sherlock. After everything that has happened, they are trying to become friends again…and maybe something more. What better time than the Christmas season?! Takes place after TLD.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel.) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it’s a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Jewel in the Tower by PoppyAlexander (E, 207,079 w. || Dystopian AU, Violence, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Mild Dub Con, One World Government, Class Issues, Assassin John / Geisha Sherlock, Self Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Espionage, Miscommunication, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Letters/Texting, Phone Sex, Infidelity, First Time, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Injury Recovery, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Scars, Misgendering, Happy Endings) – In a contemporary dystopia, Unity is peace – despite the fact unsanctioned information, illicit currency, and every sort of danger flows unchecked in the world’s pleasure districts. John Watson, a weary hired gun, is assigned by the mysterious Mentor to investigate a subversive element lurking in the Icehouse, the world’s most famous House of Repose. As accustomed as he is to dealing with the unexpected, John is nevertheless woefully unprepared to meet the gem of the Ice house, Xie, the world renowned “drashaskaya,” the living work of art after which all other drashas are modeled. In sumptuous suites, amid trailing puddles of silk and fervent whispers in the night, John soon learns that nothing is as it seems in the floating world of London’s pleasure district.

You Go To My Head by 7PercentSolution and J_Baillier (E, 257,765+ w. across 8 Stories, WiP || Surgeon AU || Medical Realism, Doctor John / Doctor Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Addiction, Angst, Slow Burn, PTSD, Pining, Insecurity) – This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson (senior neuroanaesthetist) and Holmes (neurosurgeon).

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. “It is what it is.” John Watson is what happens when what “it is” becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (E, 463,024 w. || Parentlock, UST/URT, Pining Sherlock, Grieving John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Slow Burn/Build, Case Fic, First Kiss / Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide & Drug Use, Slow Burn, Sherlock Whump, Panic Attacks) – John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don’t get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.

[loudest-subtext-in-tv]

A Study in Fate teaser

Here’s the first 2200 words of a novel-length fanfic that I’ll finish sometime this year. It’s a WiP on an atypical schedule: At a later date I’ll release the rest of the first chapter, but then I’ll release everything else all at once.

Some authors don’t like if you hassle them to hurry up, but I may find it motivating. I’m going to attempt to get better at answering my asks/comments so feel free to ask me things about this fic, but keep in mind there’s a lot of things I won’t answer. Please be aware that no one cares if you don’t like first person perspective.

Though a big aspect of this story is about how to manage depression, it starts in a relatively dark place and weaves in and out of it. If you can’t handle unresolved distant thoughts of suicide right now, maybe wait until the entire story is posted.

Finally, I am doing okay financially right now, but two of my fandom friends are not. If you’ve ever wanted to give me money, I now have a Patreon. Anything you give me will help me help them.

Description: After the events of The Empty Hearse, Sherlock struggles to figure out who he is now that John no longer seems willing to play a prominent role in his life. As his mind runs in circles trying to parse their relationship and determine who threw John in the bonfire, his world is shattered by an enigmatic visitor: himself, bearing bad news from the future.

Series 3 time travel remix; series 4 compatible.

Tags and warnings: first person present, agonizing slow burn, explicit but romantic, depression, suicidal ideation, NOT FLUFF, self-actualization

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Chapter One - The Curtain Rises

One can’t get far without an organizing principle. Every man needs one drive to which all others are subordinate, a touchstone that seizes him with purpose.

I had one once.

Now I have chips.

Dreadful organizing principle, chips: once you’ve got them, there’s nothing propelling you forward anymore. Have enough of them and you hardly want to move at all. God. I was in the best shape of my life, body and mind, and now I’m turning into Mycroft.

Except Mycroft has already transcended these struggles — or so he claims. Yet again, I’m lagging behind on a path I never wanted to follow. Splendid.

Any moment Mrs Hudson will come out and start chattering away about you. That will set me back the rest of the day, yet I won’t ascend the stairs. Does no part of my mind demand control of my brain stem? I’m meant to be some kind of genius: Any visionary corner of my psyche eager to make something of me? No takers?

No. Life is now nothing more but the wandering of here to there. And thoughts like that are why everyone thinks I’m a baby, so for god’s sake stop.

I am all too stopped.

Depression is a dowsing rod: shows you where to dig. So: Why do I halt here, at the bottom of the stairs? Why can’t I face the only place I’ve ever belonged?

It’s not merely that you don’t live here anymore. Not quite. That would be too easy.

Where are you wandering now, John? You got off work an hour ago. No one's called to alert me you've been kidnapped, so there's one thing I didn't miss today.

Still figuring that out, darling. Off my game. Maybe was never on it. Against my better judgment I let romance rot my mind, and you're the one who's suffered most. But I've recovered from less noble chemical weaknesses than your company. Against all odds I still draw breath. If I make myself do nothing else, I will turn this around. I'll prove you can rely on me.

Any threatening emails? You don't just attempt to incinerate a man and move on. For god's sake, give me something.

Oh. A text. Not a threat; a video from the homeless network. Must have been delayed whilst I was on the tube.

There you are, alive and unwell, and here responds my heart but it's nothing. Mere streets away from me, and nowhere near her flat. Why do you do this, John? Is your phone broken? We could just talk about this. Give me another chance and I swear I won't come on so strong. I was too presumptuous when we last spoke weeks ago. I broke your heart, I'm monstrous; you're no longer fond. I get it.

You're no longer fond, but you're in need of a hit. Which is curious, you realize. You understand how a man would get the impression... But no. I won't presume. Life is boring and I'm dangerous and bless you, you need a hit. Just come get one. I'll pretend I'm managing, I'll find a way to switch on that whole persona for you and you can do your hero worship thing. I won't act desperate.

Just show up, and I will respect your wishes.

Do anything but pensively stop on the sidewalk in front of shops you have no intention of entering. It just screams, I'm distracted! Kidnap me! It's been an age and I know you despise me, but if you keep doing this I'm going to have to conduct surprise drills again.

Maybe you're trying to get kidnapped. I wouldn't put it past you. Maybe it would be charity to send a car around for you to blithely climb into. Do you even think about how that would make Mary feel, John?

Of course, it's me you're thinking about right now. The tension in your posture, the unconscious clenching of your hand, the conflict evident on your face even from this distance: definitely me.

You know, I wasn't the only one who presumed. The papers presumed, the entire British populace presumed, even your sister presumed and surely she'd -- No matter. You've made yourself clear. Just: spare a thought for "the best thing that's ever happened" to you. I've no talent for consoling women on my best days, and I'd hate to see how I'd fare in a worse state than her.

No, I don't know that. I don't know that I love you more than she does. She's never broken your heart.

Oh. Wait, why...? For god's sake, Pilar, why would you approach him? He'll notice.

Well. Can't complain about seeing your eyes more clearly. Not good for my recovery. And there, yes, you've noticed. Paranoia in full swing, hackles raised, and a step forward. 'Can I help you?' in your usual tone that fashions a threat from etiquette.

Not good for my recovery, no. The things you do to my blood, John.

'Got a pound?'

'For someone recording me?' You scoff, narrow your eyes. 'Are you...?'

'Say, aren't you John Watson?' Oh, clever girl. Look at him, pretending he's not pleased to be recognized.

Yet nothing is ever simple with you, John.

'Yeah.' You're either too smart or too suspicious for your own good. (Freud would presume. I'm only saying.) 'Did he...?' You look directly at the camera; at me.

Come on! You assume it’s me? When roaming bands of criminals have set you aflame? Oh here we go, that spark in your eye -- you're going all in:

'Did you put her up to this?'

Oh well.

'Who? What makes you say that, sir?'

'Uh, well he does it all the time.' I don't. 'You know what? Just send it to him.'

'Not sure what you mean, sir.'

'Oh,' you laugh, 'you're not sure what I mean. Stop bloody recording me.'

And that's the end of that.

So. Guess you won't be coming over this week either. Or will you? Are you angry enough to confront me? It's not stalking when it's for your own protection -- just ask my brother, John. God knows he could use the conversation.

I’ve got to find more discreet operatives.

> Next time don't be so obvious.

When did she send this? Ten minutes ago. No, if you were going to come over, you would have arrived by now.

I suppose you’ve already said everything you have to say. But not even a text for stalking, John? I thought we had a connection.

Or we did. Before Moriarty won.

Not your fault. All mine. I underestimated him, failed to foresee the lengths to which he'd go for his insane plan. Didn't realize how many pieces he'd put on the board. Stupid.

A ping:

i thought youd like it? before you whinged you cant hardly see him

It was only supposed to be months, John. Then dozens of pulled threads later and you'd already gone and shacked up with a woman! That's what I get for being thorough.

And not even thorough enough. But if I wasn't thorough enough then neither was MI6, John. If Moriarty still had operatives in London, that's on Mycroft. And me. But definitely on Mycroft.

I don't know. Hate not knowing.

Are we really never going to talk about this? I took down an international crime syndicate for you, and you broke up with me on your blog?

No, no -- sorry. I take full responsibility.

This is ridiculous. I don't know why anyone comes to me to solve their problems. I can't even make it up the stairs.

Ah.

That's it, isn't it? I don’t live up there anymore, either.

Yes. Everyone says you can find Sherlock Holmes just up those stairs, back from the dead and cleverer than ever! Like most things everyone says, it’s not true. I search for him in these rooms daily, and all the evidence points to this: Sherlock Holmes was a character created by John Watson. An exciting story. A fairy tale. (Dare I say a fantasy?)

People will believe anything you tell them, John, and they did. You were so sure I was a hero that even I came to believe it in the end. Now they only keep believing it because I lied. I was never steps ahead, never as infallible as you made me out to be -- and now that you've quit writing me I'll never be anyone at all.

But I'm doing it again. Getting histrionic. I'm not the first nobody to have his heart broken. They all get on with life.

Well: usually. Technically speaking, the most invested ones turn to murder or suicide. On the upside, murder is still in the cards: Assuming I can pull it together long enough to hunt down the appropriate parties, they are murderers and it would be doing the world a favor to murder them right back. In the course of any such investigation there will tend to arise situations in which I would have no choice but to murder them -- or, fortune willing, sacrifice myself so that you may live. Or both! Now that would be a power play: cleanse the board of evil, preserve the king. The ideal way to die may yet fall into my lap.

It's nice to have things to look forward to.

But say it doesn't pan out. Given my recent track record it would be foolish to place undue faith in my forecasting abilities, and after all, I don't know for certain this has anything to do with Moriarty's network. He pulled so many rugs out from under me I'm always half expecting yet another rug. I may grow as paranoid as you, John, with him skulking about in my head. For all I know everyone involved was in Moran's network, and I'm chasing after people who are already in custody. Maybe there's no grand end, no power plays, no relief.

That leaves suicide.

I'm not saying I will, John. I refuse to break your heart again. And it would be no way to honor the lengths to which you've gone to preserve my life. They're mere thoughts. They come and go -- always have, and I always haven't. I'm not going to do it, and if I am, I can always do it later.

But no appealing alternative has revealed itself. Only the obvious path for the invested: live like everyone else, and finally sever myself from aspiring to anything meaningful or exciting. Growing up, they call it.

Freud called it repression, so let's hold off on drastic measures. I made this life work before and I can make it work again.

Of course, that was easy for Freud to say: Being invested in life isn't an exercise in masochism when you have a lifelong companion. Not to be maudlin, John, but I wasn't making it work until you came along. Not truly. You were the gear that made it all click. I couldn't become Sherlock Holmes until you facilitated it.

It felt like the strength you granted me persisted during our years apart, but it's no surprise I drifted off course the moment you weren't at my side. That's not superstitious, John, that’s just a cold fact. You would have caught the little things I didn't. You would have kept my ego in check.

But what's done is done. I'll muster some strength for you. Reinvent myself again. Reorder my mind, keep myself off the needle and the pavement until I tie up these loose ends. Then... who knows.

Maybe someone else will come along.

Well. Feels good to laugh.

I’ve got to get on with it. Life may be a flight of uncarpeted stairs, but I'm sick of being down here.

'Going out, dear? John didn't call, did he?'

Will I always be this damned slow?

I sigh loudly, not that it will make any difference. 'No, and no.' You scowl like you do when I talk about him. 'Just getting in.'

You frown. 'But we were just talking.'

My heart leaps. 'You and John?'

'No, silly.' My heart falls. You tilt your head; smile. 'You and me.'

'You were talking. I was out.'

You shake your head and laugh, a cheery, infuriating tinkle. 'You had quite a lot to--'

'Mrs Hudson.' For god's sake, do not go senile on me. Not one more straw.

'Is it drugs, dear?' Terrible, hushed pity. Everyone always leaps straight to drugs! 'Oh don't get angry, I know all the signs! The nerve of him, putting you in this state. I'd say a few things to him, if only he'd come around once in a--'

Anything has got to be better than this.

'Project much?' The stairs are fine two at a time.

'I need those for my hip!’

'Adjust your dose! You're clearly...’ What?

What in the world?

'That would explain so much,' he says, and the room tilts.

Through the door. There I am. There he is.

Sherlock Holmes.

End notes:

In The Lying Detective, Sherlock tells Faith that chips are “the only perk” of being suicidal. In The Empty Hearse, he was eating chips when Mary told him John had been kidnapped.

John’s most recent blog entry before this story takes place is The Empty Hearse. It’s a mindfuck minefield for poor Sherlock, but we’ll get into that more soon. For now, know it contains this doozy: “Oh, and in other news, I’ve got engaged. But, it’s not something I’m really going to talk about much here. I want to keep some things private. I will say, though, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Sorry, Sherlock :)”

I borrowed the name Pilar from Sherlock Holmes and the Baker Street Irregulars: The Fall of the Amazing Zalindas, a novel by Tracy Mack and Michael Citrin. I’ve never read it, mind, it just seems like it wouldn’t be the sort of thing Sherlock would assign to Wiggins, and Wiggins would never be so sloppy.

Sherlock is obsessed with Freud. One Freud reference in The Abominable Bride, which was constructed entirely from Sherlock’s drugged out brain, came from Mycroft, who asked John if he was aware of theories of paranoia. Freud believed paranoid people were closeted homosexuals, heavily insinuating that Sherlock believes John is a closeted homosexual. Freud meta to come later; he’s very important.

Freud was with his wife for 57 years.

“Life is a flight of uncarpeted stairs” is from the poem “Spring” by the early 20th century queer poet Edna St. Vincent Millay. She ended up dying of a heart attack that made her fall down the stairs, which is itself poetic. Though she was a woman, I think it’s realistic Sherlock would know about her: the Casebook notes that Sherlock reads the agony aunt columns in women’s magazines because they contain all of life and are pertinent to his line of work, and in the same spirit I’ve made him familiar with all old famous love letters, for which she’s renowned. We also know Sherlock is familiar with Shakespeare and moved enough to remember entire soliloquies, so there’s no way Sherlock could read “Spring” and not retain some of it — especially as John and Mary had been aiming for a spring wedding, and the poem references April, which is just wrapping up as the fic begins.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

Arma mulieremque cano.

I've been in a mood for heavy angst, so keep that in mind. Reader discretion is advised here. This was inspired by a two-page doujin my good friend Azure linked in our Discord server. I got intoigued, then got in a mood to make people suffer, and boom! this was born. hell yeah. Also my deathfics are shorter than my usual stuff, so I guess my heavy angst is to be consumed in a concentrated form? It felt weird to write and feels weird to backread, so I'm posting it now for the sake of gaining experience and showing a more daring side of my writing.

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An Oath is an Oath

Summary: ...so you should know better than swear two that contradict each other, especially during a war.

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses (Post-Timeskip) Ship: Ingrid/Sylvain (implied)

Wordcount: 1.5K words

Content Warnings: Depictions of violence, major character death

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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I’ll never lose someone again, Ingrid had promised herself when she had gotten over most of her grief. I won’t let anyone kill someone dear to me ever again. I’ll stop them before they can.

Back then, she hadn’t had the powers to stop Glenn from meeting his undeserved demise. Years later, she had that power she had once lacked, hands strong enough to act on her will. She wouldn’t let herself taste powerlessness again she thought and swore, not now that she had become the warrior she wanted herself to turn into as she’d grow up.

 But war is war. It tears people apart with no mercy, disregarding affections and feelings, until soldiers fighting for their life and their nation’s honour had their minds numbed and hearts changed into stone, having become soulless killing machines. No matter how many fairy tales of brave knights saving whom and what they loved she read and inserted herself into, it couldn’t change war into anything prettier than men and women killing each other for a greater cause.

And, no matter how much she tried to be the ideal warrior she had imagined Glenn to have been when he was still alive, Ingrid couldn’t deny the horrors of it as, firmly armed with her lance, she faced a very familiar face, wearing different colours and branding a different animal, the dreadful realization making itself known too quickly for her brain to even attempt ignoring.

 She’d have to break her promise with her own two hands.

 A bittersweet long time no see, huh graced her as she arrived to face the next unit in the war. She almost went mute as she realized she’d be fighting one of the people closest to her right at this instant; but she shook her head and made his smirk disappear.

“This is war,” she replied, “and you know what this means, don’t you?”

“Oh, I sure do.” His expression put on a coat of seriousness unlike anything she had quite seen from him. “I’m afraid this will be the last time we see each other.”

The pressure on his axe strengthened.

“I wish it wouldn’t have ended this way, Ingrid. We were friends.”

“I could say the same of you, Sylvain. I’m disappointed by the choices you’ve made in this conflict, yet wish we’d have fought for the same cause.”

“When haven’t I disappointed you anyway, huh?” He scoffed. “That was yesterday, though, and today is something else. We’re not friends anymore, are we? To say that I’ve missed you…”

His chit-chat was annoying to hear, nagging at her loyalty and sense of morale. He had always tried to escape inconvenient situations with not-so-beautiful words and purple prose she had only seen through.

“We’re merely soldiers fighting on different sides, now. Shall we begin? I don’t want to lose more time speaking to the enemy.”

 The harsh tone in her voice sounded fake to her but seemed to have sounded convincing to him, as she could theorize from the way he rose his axe at her. She could read conflict on his face too, the dilemma neither of them wanted to face, yet had to in order to make their side win. That was war, after all, and they were only the tiniest part of it.

Ingrid’s heart wanted to fight against her lance and the way her wrist moved itself in swift moves to brandish her weapon of choice against the face of a man that, five years ago, she’d have protected from himself; but her mind was stronger, it had always been, and her mind was loyal to King Dimitri and the Blue Lions. Not her fault if Sylvain thought the grass was greener elsewhere.

Not her fault, not her fault if he was dumb, not her fault if he wasn’t loyal, not her fault if he was running after Goddess-knew-what, not her fault if he was going to die by her hands.

 That was war and she couldn’t do anything about it, that was how things were and had always been; yet her eyes still squeezed shut as she made her mount delve down in his direction, white feathers blowing in the wind, her lance’s tip heading down, metal shining against the light of the sun, fingers trembling, hands clammy, eyes wet and will wavering with the wind blowing through her hair.

Forgive me, Goddess.

Her lance plunged with her horse.

Forgive me, Glenn.

A noise of flesh rupturing, of metal meeting metal, of hooves crushing the dirt and the leaves.

Forgive me, Sylvain.

 She had to feel something warm splatter over her face and gliding down her armour to open them again, to dare face her deeds, face the feelings she hadn’t wanted to cultivate and scythe away without harvesting any fruit like you’d pick up rotting apples on the ground of the perishing acre.

I beg of you, please forgive me.

 Her lance had slipped through a hole in his own armour, drippling in red as she got it out of his body, blood painting the grass behind them. He fell from his wyvern, who escaped the field as its knight had disappeared from its back, black wings vanishing away from her sight and under the sun.

Even as her fellow warriors pursued the fight, their cries echoing in the distance, she instructed her mount to land, getting down of it in a rush and kneeling next to whom had been more than just a foe to vanquish in a war that had almost numbed her sense of empathy, steel boots clinking against the ground, red and green printing onto it and dirtying its shine.

 Without thinking more than a moment about it, Ingrid picked Sylvain in her arms, a quick glance examining the wound: right in the lung, most likely in-between the ribs, a fatal wound if left untreated properly. But she was no healer, no ally of him, merely a former friend who had had to kill her enemy in battle if she wanted to win and keep her life. It was expected of her not to do anything about it, to just let the course of things be, so why was she so reluctant to watch this, to do this?

There was nothing she could about it, so why was she on the verge of crying, of weeping like the young girl who had never had to kill someone with her two hands? Was her heart still this tender, this naïve? What had made her so sensitive, so emotional over doing what she had done countless times by now, in the span of five years? Was it the memories of their playing time, the bond they had previously shared, the promise she had made under the stars on one calm but sorrowful night?

 “Should’ve seen it comin’…” He coughed out, blood dripping down from his mouth, lungs congesting. “You’ve always been better at fighting than me…”

“I trained while you were busy skirt-chasing,” she replied, calmly, trying to keep it together. It’d be a disgrace to her king and comrades if she started bawling in the middle of the battlefield for the fallen enemy.

“Still… I’m almost glad it’s you who killed me… At least, you were a worthy opponent…”

“I could say the same about you, I suppose.”

He tried to laugh, but all that came from it was red almost splashing on her.

“I’ll finally stop causing you problems,” he finally said, eyes closing on themselves. “That’s a good thing, no…?”

 Ingrid didn’t reply, her mind unable to come out with anything satisfactory. Teasing the enemy seemed fine, until she remembered that, in death, allies and enemies barely made sense. Her sense of allegiance had left the premise for a moment, the notion of picking a side suddenly stopping to beat with her heart.

He seemed to notice her lack of reply with this smirk giving stead to a serious expression.

“Y’know, Ingrid… Even like that… I don’t hate you...”

 There was no right answer to give him, obviously, as words were already an act of treason to her cause. Honour before feelings and all that. Proverbs stopped making sense, but she was still following their principles anyway.

“In the end, I realize that… neither do I.”

“Good… ’d’ve been a shame if you did…” His lips reached an all-time low. “It’s all messed up anyway… World’s mess’d up…”

His eyes shut never to open again, his warmth already slipping between his armour’s holes, pouring from his wound, joining the sky above.

“See ya on the other side, Ing… ’t was nice knowing you, even if it ended like that…”

“Farewell, Sylvain.”

 I’m sorry; so, so sorry. I couldn’t keep my word.

 In this battle of a name that escaped from her memory, sorrowful Ingrid had broken the promise she had made to herself as she cradled next to her sob-rattled chest the still-warm, smirking, lifeless body of her dearest friend, knowing the battle would rage on with or without her, with or without him. As she resolved herself to either let what was left behind there or bury the remains, one question came to her mind, burning her tongue, scorching her throat, singing her chest from the inside:

When had she become a gravedigger?

[solia-dreams]

X-Files fanfic: sneak preview of Chapter 41 of ‘This Is How The World Ends’

Author’s note: To those amazing, devoted, precious people who put up with my painful lapses, thank you and sorry. I have started my PhD (which apparently involves some work...) and this week presented my research proposal TO WRITE AN X-FILES FANFIC to a room full of more serious people than me and THEY WERE COOL WITH IT AND EVEN IMPRESSED BY THE ORIGINALITY. Now that I am not trying to fight to legitimise fandom, hopefully I can come back and get Scully, Harlow and Colt out of their basement. Until then, here’s what I’m working on.

Haunted is a descriptor best given to places and people.

The room beyond the basement door was at first sight just an extension of the messy hall – dark, full of boxes, old furniture misarranged about the space, papers on the floor – but when the light was flicked on and it reluctantly came to life, it became slowly apparent that this was an office of sorts.

More quickly apparent was its significance to Dr Scully, who stood frozen in the doorway like she was trapped in some kind of time-distortion field. Harlow had found the doctor scary and unapproachable with her cool distance and emotionless, calculating bravery with this investigation, but framed by that door, the nameplate reading Fox Mulder lying on the floor at their feet, she saw a different Agent Scully.

A human one. A moved, vulnerable one.

“Whoa, I can see why you think it’ll be safe down here,” Colt expressed, breaking the office’s spell on Scully, and she stepped in ahead of them quickly. Almost as if by instinct she moved to the pile of boxes opposite the door, which, Harlow saw when she followed her in, was actually burying a desk. Behind the desk was a messy yet evidently deliberate collage of newspaper clippings, printouts, photographs and postcards, all of them curled and yellowed and faded with time, covering a corkboard of a wall beside a faded, torn poster of a UFO flying over a forest. Aliens.

Not even funny.

Harlow picked her way carefully ahead of Colt, noting other indications of abandonment, like an old television on a trolley with a VCR of all things, and the thick grey layer of dust over everything, including the glass wall over the back separating this main area from another space. She didn’t know the extent or complete nature of Scully and Mulder’s work during their time as partners, but she knew that this was where it had happened, and while she wasn’t a particularly superstitious or spiritual person, she could feel the immensity of this place. This was their storeroom, where two troublesome agents dipping their feet in unwanted waters were sent to rot in silence but instead where they drew together and pushed back, refusing to be quashed. Refusing to let the truth die.

Their truth, apparently, involved some pretty heavy shit. Harlow’s overly dramatic yet mostly rational brain was still pounding with disbelief at the latest instalment to Dr Scully’s initiation of crazy: zombies. Zombies, what the fuck? Who the fuck was Dr Scully, really, to be investigating this kind of bullshit, and what the fuck was Fox Mulder’s deal to still choose to be involved even after leaving the employ of the Bureau? Fine, it was one thing to do a favour for his old partner, throw her a bone if he happened to come across something helpful, but yesterday she’d realised fully that their ‘previous partnership’ was not only entirely unknown to Agent Colt, it was also still quite active. Mulder was out there working this same case, in some mysterious capacity, even finding them leads and using coded messages to light their way.

What even was this? One part of Harlow said this was very bad news, and she should back away calmly and run, because it was not what she and Dr Scully had been cleared to do at the quarterly and was not what she’d assumed they’d actually be doing when they were cleared at the quarterly. This was so, so much bigger, another part of her realised, and, unable to tell which voice was the overly dramatic and which was the rational, she found that she had little choice but to see it out. She owed it to herself, and to the family she’d failed the first time she’d allowed herself to be shoved into a newer, cleaner version of this basement office. Dr Scully was still going, still picking away at this case that went back years, and if Harlow wanted to push back and make an impact, she was going to need to trust the older doctor and follow her lead.

“There’s a refrigerator through here,” Scully said now, dropping off her carrycase and pushing away from the desk to show her two junior agents to where a small open bar fridge was just visible behind another stack of crumpling boxes. Without being asked, forever chivalrous, Colt squeezed to the front to push the stack aside for her, and Scully knelt to dust off the shelves inside. It was dark, disconnected from the power. “I hope it still works.”

Harlow knelt, too, uncomfortably, and felt around on the grimy, dust-carpeted floor for the power cord. She found it first and tugged it, finding it loose from the wall. “Where’s it plug in?”

“Here.” Colt, still standing, held his hand out for it and leaned his tall self over the unit to plug it into the wall. She saw his barely withheld wince and the awkwardness of his posture, knowing every movement was serving to remind him of yesterday’s beating. The refrigerator’s white light immediately brightened and the whirr of its engine woke up. Scully stood easily; Harlow had a little more difficulty, and was only half-surprised by the thoughtful hand on her elbow that pulled her upright when her core didn’t engage like she’d hoped. Colt, she was finding, was hopelessly kind and unflinchingly helpful. She thought after her treatment in her small department in Quantico it would be difficult to adjust to behaviour like Colt’s. Turns out it wasn’t so much.

It made her all the more annoyed that Dr Scully was keeping him in the dark.

----

A/N: If I haven’t finished it by next weekend, I’ll post more here. Sorry again and thanks for your patience! @firstofoctober @squatch1n @defnotmeyo

[nightowldaylark]

[Fic] String Theory [Slav/Shiro]

Title: String Theory

Pairing: Slav/Shiro

Summary: In any number of these realities, Slav knows the meaning behind the tangled red string that curls one end around him and flings the other out into the cold emptiness of space. In any number of them, the red string does not exist.

Author’s Note: This fic is the culmination of:

1) Reading a bunch of soulmate AUs and making myself nostalgic for the traditional red string version which is pretty rare in this fandom

2) Me wanting to do a soulmate AU from the POV of an alien who didn’t have this custom but got soulmated to a human and had to spend their whole life not understanding what’s going on until they actually meet the human

3) Wanting to write something from Slav’s POV (never again)

4) Slav/Shiro being one of my favourite crackships and I love their angst potential with the whole shared Galra prisoner background and how Slav is one of the few people who consistently gets Shiro’s back up.

I think that says everything re: what this fic is about.

AO3 Mirror

Every action has its corresponding reaction, its consequences that split reality into an infinite web of parallels and divergents. Slav traces them in his mind’s eye, and lets the pure precision of mathematics leading him down the paths of what-could-be and what-might-be and what-is.

In any number of these realities, Slav knows the meaning behind the tangled red string that curls one end around him and flings the other out into the cold emptiness of space. In any number of them, the red string does not exist.

In other realities, it is a simple sight defect. A mutation that allows him to see in spectrums the rest of his species cannot. No one else can see because their eyes are simply not made for it. But Slav has never seen anything else outside the visible spectrum. Nothing except the red string. Nor does his eyes differ from the average in a measurable way.

In more far-flung ones, it is a sign of his madness. A mental defect instead of a physical one. A lie he conjures up that exposes rot in his brain long before his captivity by the Galra. The string does not exist. There is nothing on the other end.

But in this reality, the red string simply is. Incalculable, unmeasurable, a mystery that defies explanation. A predetermined path to he knows not what, but a constant presence even the Galra cannot take from him.

At least until the Paladin enters his life through the door of his prison.

Later, Slav calculates the possibility of the Paladin coming through a different entrance, one that does not exist in his cell. He calculates the possibility of the Paladin never coming for him at all. The probabilities are immense. The likelihood of him living in the reality where the other end of his red string of impossibility comes to him while he is still alive, while they are both still alive, is so infinitesimal it sends his vitals elevating through the roof.

At the time, Slav is too busy elevating his vitals due to other panic-inducing reasons. Starting with the fact that the Paladin wants him to leave his cell. Slav is achingly aware of what happens if, when, if they fail to escape. But the Paladin talks of stopping the Galra, and freedom, and a way to be of use that does not involve torture or compromising his morals. And his lucky range of terahertz. Every word the Paladin speaks is a too-attractive trap that makes him hope.

It is almost a relief when the Paladin loses his patience. This, Slav is used to. He lets the familiar snarls of frustration fade into the background as he teases the crease in the blanket just so. The Paladin had actually lasted an amazingly long time before giving in; perhaps that is what the red string means: someone who can put up with Slav and his compulsions.

“Just take the blanket with you!”

Perhaps the red string needs recalibrating. The thought amuses Slav and almost calms him except the Paladin is still asking him to brave the water. There are too many realities where he can’t swim. Slav can’t remember if this is one of them, and the more he tries the more the realities blur together. Perhaps this is the reality where he is already drowning.

It is not any of the realities where Slav is drowning because it is the reality where the Paladin picks him up with his glorious robot arm and carries him heroically across. Sadly, it is also not the reality where the Paladin has two glorious robot arms which would increase their likelihood of survival to actually maybe survivable. But Slav is wrapped around the Paladin’s shoulders, and the arms cupped around him are gentle in their grasp. Slav lets himself enjoy it, until they reach The Cracks.

Slav isn’t even surprised that the Paladin seems to have no regard for his mother. Whatever importance Slav may place on his unquantifiable string and what lies at the end of it, it is clear that this is not the reality where the Paladin differs from everyone else in any appreciable way.

But in the end, the Paladin never forces him over. He listens, and implements Slav’s suggestion instead of making him go along with his. He does not harm him, even though he could have at so many points, even though Slav knows he wants to.

In the end, as realities unspool from his numbers, bright strands of actions and reactions pulling and pushing each other into infinity, Slav picks his reality and slams down on the control panel. His eyes on the tableau in front of him - his torturer, his saviour, the other factors who matter but do not matter. Slav calculates all the ways in which this ends.

The airlock doors swirl open, reality shunting down another path as Slav follows the pull of his consequences. There is, always and forever, the fear of death; dying in the void of space is such a messy death. But Slav is following his string, and the Paladin is there at the other end.

Slav does not go to him, but aims himself at one of the others, the one who had praised his suggestion. He keeps some distance between himself and the Paladin; a better vantage to observe. Safe in the arms of the small green one - not an unlucky frequency, but he regrets a little that he hadn’t aimed for the blue one instead - Slav lets himself be relieved for a moment; this is not yet the reality where he dies. He looks over, and contemplates the possibilities of a reality where the end of his string is a positive outcome, that he is defective in neither his eyes nor his brain. And then he remembers, this man does not even honour his mother’s back.

In some realities, it is not the Galra Slav must fear, but the Alteans.

Here, he is a fighter, he is powerful, and Shiro is Sven is a comforting presence at his side. Their string is not tangled but runs true between them, and their bond is the strength of physics and trust.

They are partners in all the ways that count. From the moment Slav sneaks into the Altean prison and finds that the weapon the Guns of Gamara wanted him to steal is a living, breathing alien. From the moment Slav finally meets the other end of his string and solves the mystery that has plagued him his whole life.

He is the one who breaks Sven out. He is the one who saves him.

In this reality, Slav sits in the outdated ship of a dead race and calculates how to keep them all alive. He is in his room tonight, having finally aligned everything inside it in optimal ‘staying alive in as many realities as possible’ configurations. So engrossed is he in his work, Slav completely misses dinner and does not even realise until someone knocks on his door.

“It’s me,” Shiro says, tone even. “I brought you some food.” It takes Slav a mathematical age to remember that he is no longer a prisoner and Shiro is waiting to be allowed entry.

Shiro squeezes inside gingerly when Slav finally opens the door, trying not to touch anything, and stands in the middle of the room with his limbs tucked close, food tray held to his chest. It is comforting to see him act so respectful; it makes Slav wonder once again if the red impossibility that twines around them means something, that Shiro can be so accommodating.

Slav takes a quick look around the room, trying to see what can be moved with the least chance of disaster. After some deliberation, he shifts the tablet on his bed from one end to the other and points at the space left behind. “There. Our survival rate in 42 whole realities will not suffer inordinately if you sit on the creases of this corner of the blanket.”

Shiro takes the seat, his mouth quirking up in a way that does not say ‘danger’. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Does ‘inordinately’ in this case mean we’re already doomed, or that we’re not doomed at all?”

“Only if you sit on that corner and that corner ONLY.” Slav folds his primary arms, his secondary set already reaching out for the tray of food. Shiro lets go of it without even a play at keeping it from him, and Slav finds himself pulling the tray with too much force without even realising he was going to. He should have been able to anticipate this, he should know Shiro well enough by now to be able to predict how he would act - how he wouldn’t be cruel this way, but Slav had seen the food and let his hunger and fear override his calculations. In other realities he would have used just the right amount of force, Slav thinks bitterly, watching the synthetic nutrient goo slop onto the tray. In other realities, the entire plate might have overturned.

But Shiro is here, hovering his hands under the tray as if to catch it in case it falls. “Sorry, sorry,” he says hurriedly. “I should have just put it down somewhere instead.”

Slav’s torso stiffens, straight as a beam. “No! The chances of disaster if you just drop it down haphazardly! The-”

“What are the chances of disaster?” Shiro asks, cutting in before Slav can build up more steam for his rant.

“Very high!” Slav blusters. “There is a 96% chance that someone can trip over it, fall down on something important, smear this nutrient goo all over EVERYTHING.”

“Huh, that actually sounds reasonable.” Shiro blinks. “Good thing I didn’t put it down somewhere then.”

The calm that surrounds him grates at Slav, people aren’t calm around him - not even Shiro. But the low-key condescension to Slav’s behaviour is at least familiar. Slav spoons nutrient goo into his mouth and glares.

Shiro ignores it with seeming ease. Except now that Slav is looking, he is not so sure whether Shiro is as calm as he had thought he was. The way Shiro is holding his shoulders, it is both similar and dissimilar to when they were running through the prison. His eyebrows are set low on his forehead, and there is a stiffness to him that reminds Slav a little of the corridors of Beta Traz, when Shiro was so set on forcing Slav over the Cracks. It sets off Slav’s instincts, vestigial ones from before Slav’s species learned to reason. Instincts that tell him to fight or run or both.

“I want to apologise,” Shiro says, all the stiffness leaving his body. This is not the reality Slav had thought they were in. “I’m sorry for shouting at you on our way back. It was uncalled for. I’m not sorry for doing whatever it took to save you while we were in Beta Traz though.”

“I saved us,” Slav points out to give himself time to think, to recalculate.

“Yes, you did.” Shiro nods firmly. The corners of his lips are tucked down. It makes him look - not foreboding, not the way the Galra do when their lips turn down, but - unhappy. “Thank you for saving us. It was brave, what you did, and dangerous.”

“Well.” Slav blinks, uncertain - the number of realities where this happens is so small, almost smaller than the number of realities where he finds the other end of his string and it is a Paladin of Voltron who saves him from the Galra. “I don’t plan on repeating it.”

“Please don’t,” says Shiro, still with that look on his face. “It’s our job to protect you .”

It has been so long since Slav felt the emotion that wells up inside him, he doesn’t recognise it at first. And then he does. He feels safe. Slav looks at the string, still hanging between them and not a hint of slack in it - despite the distance they had between them, the distance that has shrunk so much. The probabilities of something positive on the other end of it were so small. The probabilities are still so small.

Shiro’s voice interrupts the familiar litany of his thoughts. “Are you comfortable here? Do you have everything you need?” Slav looks up to see him glancing around the room. “Nothing’s in an unlucky terahertz range or something?”

Slav blinks slightly at the sudden change in topic, but follows along. “No, no unlucky terahertz ranges here.”

“ Do you have an unlucky terahertz range?”

“Less of a terahertz range, and more of a colour that doesn’t really exist,” Slav says drily.

Shiro’s mouth works as his brows furrow. “Wait, wait, I think I know this one. Our eyes made it up or something. Purple, right?”

Slav looks at him. “Yes, exactly.”

“Oh. Right.” Shiro presses his lips together, then opens them again. “Weren’t you working with the Blade of Marmora before?”

“Yes, exactly,” repeats Slav, waving his tertiary arms at the prisoner smock he still wears, his secondary set still occupied with the tray and primary set with the bowl and spoon.

“Fair enough.”

“Surely you understand,” Slav points at the robot arm with a quarternary hand.

Shiro looks down at it, face scrunching up as he does so, but then he is looking back up at Slav and all the wrinkles have smoothed out. “My experiences with the colour purple has actually been quite positive recently.” He turns as if he can see through the walls, in the direction of the hangers that house the Lions, if Slav remembers correctly from his tour of the Castleship.

“The Lion? That’s black.” Slav scowls at Shiro, turns to where he is looking, then turns back for good measure. “Is this a problem with your visible spectrum? Are all human eyes like this?”

“No.” Shiro huffs, in inexplicable good humour. “It’s the Black Lion for us too. But it’s also quite purple.”

Slav squints at Shiro’s face, he looks - if it is even possible for humans in the first place - besotted. “Is this a human language thing then?”

“Hmmm.” Shiro’s brows scrunch together. “I don’t think this is a translation issue. It’s two different words in English - the language I speak - as well, and two different concepts. It’s just how the Lion works.”

The explanation explains nothing. Slav sniffs contemptuously. “Magic.”

Shiro just shrugs. “It could be a leftover from Zarkon, that’s not the kind of thing I felt comfortable asking Allura or Coran, but...I think it’s just the Lion itself. It’s Black, but also Purple.”

“That makes no sense scientifically,” Slav says, trying to ignore how Shiro says Zarkon’s name so easily.

“Magic,” says Shiro, and this time his smile is a smirk.

Slav sighs. “I suppose magic is as good a reason as any why all of our species recognise a colour that doesn’t actually exist.” That’s not the only thing Slav sees that doesn’t actually exist, after all. Almost unconsciously, he reaches out with his tertiary hand, watching as his fingers slip through the string like all the other times he had tried.

But this time he is not given a look of confusion for grasping at what everyone else only perceives as air. Shiro is looking at him with wide eyes, skin leeching of colour. Slav’s instincts surge up again and he flinches back, but Shiro is faster, one large hand clamping down on Slav’s outstretched wrist, the tray clattering between them.

“You can see it?” Shiro’s voice is urgent, but not harsh. Slav squints open his eyes to see Shiro’s face filling his entire field of view. Somehow, his instincts no longer tell him to flee.

“You see the string too,” Slav accuses. He glances to the string and back, in time to see Shiro has just done the same.

“I- I didn’t think…” Shiro stumbles over his words, face slack. Slav knows that look, it is wonder. “The Alteans don’t have it, you know. I thought it was just a human thing. I hadn’t thought you would be able to see -”

“You...did this…?” Slav knows as soon as he says it that it’s not true. But nowadays he is all too accustomed to a life where he sits as things are done to him.

Shiro tilts his head to the side. “I don’t know... do I take responsibility for this? I didn’t do it on purpose, and it’s not something I can control, but this string is - as far as I know - a human construct that I’ve never heard exist in any of the alien races we’ve met. Unless - is it a thing for your species?”

“No,” says Slav. “As far as I know, I am the only one. No one else could see it. It doesn’t exist to them.”

Shiro winces. “Yes, even on Earth - among our species, you can only see the string that is tied to you, no one else’s. If none of them are tied by a string, then it’s only natural they wouldn’t see anything.”

“Then how do you know,” Slav asks, voice rising in horror. “How do you account for it? If it can’t be measured, or quantified, if no one can see it but you and the one who shares your delusions-”

The way Shiro looks at him is so soft, Slav doesn’t understand. “You just have to trust it.” His mouth quirks up again. “Or that’s how it goes in our society. Maybe it is a delusion, but precisely because you share the delusion with the other end of your string, it means something to us. No matter what your life is like, on the other end of your string is someone who will see the world as you do, even if only a small sliver of it. It’s a special bond.”

Slav lets the words sink into him, breaks them down into their component numbers and allows his calculations to reform around them. Possibilities die and spring into life. “What are you going to do now that you know?” Slav asks because he does not know the answer for himself.

Shiro hums. “For humans, this string is a symbol of fate tying us to one another, it shows we’re soulmates. It’s expected that once we find each other we’ll stay together. But, well, human expectations don’t exactly prepare for aliens.”

Slav frowns at that. “But your string must have stretched out into space like mine did.”

Shiro hesitates, the hand that was still circled around Slav’s wrist finally drawing away. “Yes, it did.” He does not explain further.

The dismissal does not hurt, but Slav feels whatever connection that Shiro had drawn between them fade. He could try to reach out, to draw up a connection from his end, but Slav is still not sure if he wants to. Slav looks down at the tray in his lap, then back up. The string is still there, no longer Slav’s delusion but a shared one; whatever bond they have or not have, that hasn’t changed.

“Anyway, we still have to defeat Zarkon first,” Shiro says calmly, as if he doesn’t realise the impossibility of his words. “We can talk about what we’re going to do once it’s over.”

Perhaps it is the result of this new paradigm that Slav has been introduced to, perhaps the idea that the delusion is shared means something to Slav as it means to Shiro, but for once he does not want to bring up their vanishingly small chances of success. Realities unfurl in front him as they always do, but Slav spoons more goo into his mouth and does not speak of their doom.

In other realities, the string is quantifiable after all. Traceable by the dark magic of Haggar’s druids. The quintessence of two pools together into one, and Haggar follows the string to the end.

Slav is kept not at Beta Traz, but Central Command. His first view of the end of his string is the Champion fighting for Zarkon’s entertainment. Their first contact is under Haggar’s observation; their string is not a private bond between them, but yet another thing for the Empire to violate.

But they are strong together, they escape together. Together they are unstoppable.

In this reality, Slav is sneaking onto the Teludav one last time on the eve of their culminating strike against Zarkon. He has made sure everyone had left before he did so, a feat that takes longer than he would have liked - how long does it take for Humans to have an emotional moment together before the big, decisive battle anyway?

But Slav is patient, he knows how to wait. He has been watching the Humans; he makes sure to count every single one of them as they leave, before hunkering down on the ring that runs horizontally across the Teludav. He is just starting to run both primary and secondary set of hands over the curve of one of the lenses when he hears the voice behind him. “Didn’t Coran ban you from the Teludav after you made it explode?”

“Only a small explosion!” The assertion slips out while Slav is still turning. It is the first time he has seen Shiro again since he brought food to his room. Since Slav found out that the string is real. That Shiro is the other end because he sees it too.

“No more explosions, even small ones!” Shiro looms, inserting himself physically between Slav and the Teludav. Slav lets himself be herded, but plops down on the ground the moment they’re off it.

“If you just let me do what I need to do, we will have an even higher chance of surviving in this reality!” It feels strange to trust that Shiro will listen, but despite his disregard for Slav’s methods, he has let Slav act out his compulsions before, and does seem to have some respect for Slav and his abilities. All he can do is appeal to Shiro’s better nature.

“What you need to do,” repeats Shiro, robot arm waving wildly. “To this already complete Teludav. That you have already blown up.”

“Yes!” Slav beams. “Also, I repeat, that was only a small explosion, nothing as dramatic as ‘blowing up’.”

Shiro frowns. “No, Slav.”

Clearly Slav is a fool for thinking Shiro even has a better nature. Meeting the other end of his string has been nothing but a long, painful road to disillusionment. Despite what Shiro says about the string being a special bond, he has proven time and time again that he does not understand Slav at all. Slav frowns too, the disappointment making him restless. He throws himself forward even though he doesn’t even need his calculations to know his chances of getting past Shiro are somewhere in the negatives.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Shiro catches Slav easily in his arms, taking heavy strides that lead them even further away from the Teludav. The momentum curls Slav around Shiro’s body, a reminder of their breakout from Beta Traz. “Look,” Shiro says with a sigh, “can’t you do whatever you need to do away from here? Preferably somewhere without anything breakable.”

“Nooooooo.” Slav wobbles in Shiro’s grasp, feeling childish and disagreeable. He clings tighter, refusing to let Shiro set him down. It is Shiro’s fault for not listening. For being such a disappointment. For avoiding him after all those pretty words about how they’re soulmates who are supposed to be together.

Shiro remains unsympathetic, dropping down cross-legged on the ground now that they are a decent distance away and taking Slav with him. “Don't you ‘noooo’ me. Act your age, for goodness sakes.” Shiro pauses, mouth slack. “Wait, how old are you?”

Slav pauses too, thinking.

Shiro narrows his eyes at Slav suspiciously. “Why is this something you need to think about?”

“Your words made me realise that in 112 realities you let me on the Teludav when I told you I am prepubescent for my species,” Slav says truthfully,

Shiro does not stop looking suspicious. “I can't believe that works on me in any reality.”

“Well, to be fair, in some of those realities that was one of the first things I told you about me. And then there are the ones where it's true!” Slav waggles his eyebrows at him, trying to look sly. “This might be one of them.”

“Yeah, no.” The frown deepens on Shiro’s face.

Slav thinks about trying his luck further, but Shiro is pulling at him, hands tangling in Slav’s prisoner smock and keeping him in place. Slav curls tighter in retribution, stretching up from the back of Shiro’s head so he can rest his chin on the crown, feathering out over Shiro’s forehead.

Shiro squints up at him, cross-eyed. “If I let you stay there, will you keep away from the Teludav? What about a distraction. Can I distract you with something?”

“Hmmmmm.” Slav strokes down his chin, tugs at the strands and calculates the probabilities if he pushes now. He is 57 and 77/100ths of a percent sure that this is one of the realities where it will work. “Tell me more about the string. I tried to scan it with the equipment the Castle had. Even they can’t trace it.”

Shiro stills, but does not pull away. “Yeah,” he says, looking away. “The Alteans don’t have it. It was pretty hard to explain the whole thing to them. I’m still not sure if they believe us now, or they’re just humouring us.”

“On the bright side, the Galra doesn’t seem to be able to measure it either.” Not in this reality at least.

Shiro’s face jerks; not upwards, in a smile, or downwards, in a frown, but an intense look into the distance that Slav is intimately familiar with. “Yeah, they can seem so indestructible; they’ve been around for so long, unchallenged. But there are things even they don’t know.” Shiro takes a breath, his face smoothing out. “It’s something to keep in mind. Even if they’re so technologically advanced that they can attach a brand new limb to an alien they’ve been studying for less than a year and have it go without a hitch, they’re as unaware of the red strings of fate as everyone else.”

“Does that mean you have been rethinking my proposal about two robot arms? Because I think it will really improve-”

“No, Slav,” Shiro says exasperatedly, a phrase he has heard too many times today. Shiro’s human hand reaches up, tugging at where Slav had earlier. His grasp is gentle, gentler than Slav’s had been, and the intimacy of the act sends a shiver up Slav’s torso.

Slav slithers back down, pooling into Shiro’s lap this time. “You’re distracting me, my question was about the string.”

“I did say my whole goal is to distract you, remember.” Shiro shifts his arms away from Slav, leaning his weight on them as he flattens his hands against the ground and giving Slav the choice to move away if he wants. Slav stays where he is, looking up into Shiro’s face as the shadows there are banished by a smile. “What else did you want to know?”

57 and 77/100ths of a percent, Slav reminds himself. “Is the string how you knew I would be here?”

“Pretty much,” Shiro says easily. “That’s another aspect of the bond. You can’t really hide from each other, not when the string gives away your general direction.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” Slav replies haughtily. “I thought you would just ignore it. Like you’ve been ignoring me.”

Shiro doesn’t reply straight away, the silence between them stretching out long enough that Slav braves another glance upwards. The shadows are back on Shiro’s face. “I-”

Slav waits, but Shiro doesn’t say any more. “I haven’t seen you since our conversation in my room,” Slav offers. He isn’t sure what response he wants from Shiro.

“I have been avoiding you,” Shiro admits. “I’m- I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I haven’t been...I’ve been rude,” Shiro says finally, as if he’s not quite sure how to admit to all the outbursts he’s directed at Slav since they’ve met.

“You’re not very good at cooperating,” says Slav, in full agreement.

“I’m not-” Shiro splutters. “I’m not cooperative! I-”

Slav watches as Shiro takes deep, shuddering breaths until his face is back to its normal colour. He’s gotten used to the Humans enough that it doesn’t scare him as much as it did, though the fact that he’s not stuck in a confined space with Shiro as his only hope for freedom certainly helps.

Shiro takes another breath before he speaks. “Forget about cooperation, what I’m talking about is how I haven’t been very good at staying in control. Mostly around you.”

There is a familiar darkness in Shiro’s eyes, one Slav recognises. That might be why he gives Shiro an out. “The conversation in my room wasn’t so bad. You didn’t shout at me in there.” Just scared me half to death with the intensity of your reveal that the string actually exists.

“Just scared you half to death by being too intense about our bond?” Shiro raises an eyebrow, emphasising the way he casts his eyes to the string between them.

Slav strokes his chin again, more solid under his fingers than the string will ever be, and says, “So is this all connected to our...bond? To the string?”

Shiro looks away, a habit that Slav understands well enough now to know it is guilt. “No. That’s not how the bond works. That’s not how a person is supposed to treat their soulmate.” And then he is looking at Slav again; the intensity in his eyes and the way Shiro sets his jaw should be scary, dangerous, but it isn’t. “I don’t deal very well with people not listening to me, especially when I can’t understand the rationale behind why you don’t listen to me. I am trying, but...a lot of the time your requirements just sound frivolous. I don’t think I’m worse about it because we are soulmates or anything, but, well, a year as a prisoner of the Galra probably didn’t help the control issues.”

“My requirements are always rational,” Slav says, because he knows what Shiro really wants is absolution, but he doesn’t know if he wants to - if he can - give it to him.

“Only to you,” Shiro says with a sigh.

Slav curls up tighter in Shiro’s lap, and then, because he does know something about being a prisoner of the Galra, he gives Shiro another out. “In our last conversation, you said that you weren’t prepared for aliens. What did you think of your string then? Surely it stretched out into space like mine did. What were you expecting?”

Shiro’s face closes off as it had last time, but - maybe he realises this is Slav’s way of reaching out - he still doesn’t pull away, hasn’t even once in this entire conversation, Slav realises belatedly. Shiro’s human hand reaches up from the ground to trace the space the string doesn’t inhabit. “I said humanity wasn’t expecting aliens, because we aren’t. We haven’t even left our solar system. None of us knew aliens existed until…” The hand in the air waves at his robot arm. “But I’d always wondered - hoped - that my string leading out into the sky meant something. That there’s something out there, on the other end, waiting for me just like everyone else.”

“Me too,” Slav admits, unable to look away from emotions that flits over Shiro’s face as he talks. “I didn’t know what it meant or where it lead, beyond the infinite of space, but I’d always hoped that there was something on the other end.”

“There is,” says Shiro; this time, his smile is not happy. “All those people who thought that there was something wrong with my string, and all it took was a year of captivity by an evil alien empire and being chosen to save the universe by a telepathic robot lion.”

“So many realities where you are already dead.” Slav nods in agreement. “So many realities where you could still die.”

“That’s what you said back in the prison too.” Shiro pauses briefly, then says, “Why did you decide to come with me, when there were...what, only 2% chance of not dying?”

“1 and 97/100ths of a percent actually, it only became 2% thanks to the efforts of my blanket,” Slav corrects him. “And those numbers were only of ME not dying in the prison break. Your chances were worse.”

“Why did you come then?”

Slav shrugs into Shiro’s thigh, uncurling from his lap so that he can flop out over his knees instead. “The other choice was to stay there. Of course I chose you.”

Shiro’s face starts turning red again, but this time not from anger. “Yeah, I get it, any choice starts looking better when you compare to being a prisoner of the Galra.”

“And if I was going to die, at least I managed to find out what was on the other end of the string before that.” Slav shrugs again, watching as Shiro’s face turns even redder.

“We’re not going to die,” Shiro says firmly, and clears his throat. “We will defeat Zarkon, and win; what do you want to do afterwards?”

“You do realise our chances of defeating Zarkon are much, much less than our chances of not dying in that prison break?” Slav asks, so he can avoid actually thinking about what Shiro’s asking of him.

“You said that the possibilities are infinite,” Shiro replies, undaunted. “So if we do live in the reality where we will defeat Zarkon, what are your plans?”

“You’re the one who said we’ll talk about it after it’s over.”

This time, Shiro doesn’t respond straight away, closing his eyes and opening them again before saying, “Yes, but that’s just what I want, and that’s not fair to you. What do you want, Slav?”

Slav looks up thoughtfully. All those different emotions he had seen on Shiro’s face, all the feelings he had revealed to Slav, all wiped away now by the determined face he shows to everyone else. When they had met, and Slav had said he survives in less than 1 and 97/100ths of a percent of realities, he hadn’t even known Shiro back then. Now he does, now he knows the chances of Shiro surviving are even smaller than that. And yet, the reality they are in had ended up being the reality where they survived the prison break anyway. “Very well. After it’s all over, we can talk about it then.”

A/N:  One thing I’ve noticed on Voltron is that all the aliens have ‘our’ body language; almost everyone is at least vaguely bipedal and most have the same number of mouths/eyes/eyebrows. Which, sure, why not, more things in heaven and earth etc. etc. At least it made it easier for me to write Slav, though I wasn’t sure how much familiarity he would have with lips. But he has been around a lot of Galra after all.

[droewyn]

Question Game!

I was tagged by @phlintandsteel!

rules:

1. answer the questions given by the person who tagged you

2. write 10 questions of your own and tag 10 people

1.  Have you ever truly hated another human being?

Yes.  My stepmom’s son.  She raised him as a single mom, and while she didn’t have much of anything, she gave it all to him.  He wanted to go to broadcasting school to be a radio DJ.  She was terrified that he’d fail, but supported him anyway, and when he didn’t fail, she was his biggest fan.  Then he met and married Old Southern Money, and became ashamed of his roots.  He cut off all contact with her -- told her via fucking certified mail that she didn’t “do enough” for him and he wanted nothing more to do with her.  Periodically he calls just to fuck with her brain, saying that he wants to talk, only to go off on her and belittle her.  When his first kid was born, he invited her and my dad to the baptism, and when they flew down to New Orleans on their own dime he bitched her out and told her he didn’t want her there.  Like he'd never intended for her to attend, he just wanted to humiliate her in person.  We had her on suicide watch for weeks after that little trick.  I've actually wondered if driving her to suicide is his goal.  He is staggeringly cruel, an absolute waste of humanity, and the world would be so much better off without him in it.  At least then my stepmom could have some goddamn closure and stop getting tortured every six months.  I hope his wife has a billion affairs, gives him crotch rot, and leaves him for the mailman.  I hope his kids grow up to break his heart.  I’d also really like to kick his balls into his throat.  Repeatedly.

... sorry.  You asked.  :/

2.  How do YOU pronounce caramel?

CARE-uh-mel.

3.  What was your first fandom?

Um.  Okay, so, like.  I'm old. Tumblr OldTM, but still. So I'm kind of not sure how to answer this question.

The first thing I went absolutely nuts over was My Little Pony.  I was four, and there were these pastel unicorns and I.  Had. To have.  Them all.

The first thing I made up stories in my head about was Rainbow Brite.

The first thing I had headcanon for was She-Ra, Princess of Power.  When the DVDs came out and I rewatched the series as an adult, I was genuinely shocked that the episode where Adora had to earn everyone's trust because hello, there's usually a step between "I've decided to quit being the enemy's greatest general" and "I accept the position of leadership in your rebellion", didn't actually exist.  I still "remember" it vividly, and I'm not entirely convinced that there wasn't some history rewriting or parallel universe involved.

The first fanfiction I wrote was for Final Fantasy I.  I wrote a Save Our Princess! flyer for some spelling test or something in sixth grade.

My first actual online fandom was Sailor Moon.  I had a 2400 baud modem, and the tiny, distorted, 300x400 video of the Japanese opening credits took two days to download.  Fanfiction.net didn't exist yet, never mind AO3.  We had WEBRINGS.  It was barbaric.

4.  Guys in high heels, yes or no?

Doesn't do anything for me, but then I'm demi, and my boy has never been into that.  You do you and don't worry about what I think.

5.  Did you go to college, and if so, was it worth it?

I dropped out as a sophomore, so no.  It was not worth it.  I'm making decent money as an entirely self-taught Salesforce admin. 

6.  What is your favorite type of AU?

Something that gives me an entirely new experience while staying true to the characters.  I've loved me some A/B/O, and I've also been utterly revolted by A/B/O.  Ditto for soulmates, fake relationships, pretty much all of it.  It's all the writer and their storytelling for me, not a specific setting.

...

OKAY FINE GIVE ME ALL THE LEVERAGE YOI AU IN THE WORLD AND I WILL BE SO HAPPY THERE I SAID IT

7.  Would you hide your orientation/stay in the closet to get ahead in your career (I guess I’m assuming since this is tumblr that we’re all queer here)?

I joined the workforce in the late 1990's.  Of course I have been in the closet at various workplaces, though much of it was less being concerned about possible advancement or lack thereof and more not wanting to deal with being the freak in the triad relationship. These days I'm open about being queer with my coworkers, though I have not laid out any actual details to anyone. Except for the one adorable little baby gay who worried that I might find some people's behavior shocking if I went to Detroit Pride this year.  Then I was all oh sweetie you think I'm vanilla that's so cute let me tell you exactly how wrong you are.

8.  What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

So I take about a quarter cup of olive oil, right?  The regular stuff, not EVOO; EVOO can't take being heated without losing flavor so there's no point in spending the extra money for the sake of being fancy.  I grind up some salt and pepper with a mortar and pestle until it's super fine and add it to the oil, stirring so the particles are evenly suspended throughout.  Then I crush about 4-6 cloves of garlic and add them.  Yes, cloves.  More than that if they're small.  Next, I turn the stove on to the popcorn sweet spot (just past the 7 line on my range) and add a single kernel of corn.  When that pops, it’s time to add the rest of the popcorn, about a half cup.  It has to be kept moving!  I use one of those hand-cranked popcorn kettles that lets me continually stir; if I don't have that it's shaking the (lidded) pot like a savage and trying not to get burned by escaping steam.  When the popcorn is done, it gets dumped in a very large bowl and sprinkled immediately with powdered parmesan cheese so that the remaining oil will allow the cheese to stick to the popcorn.  Sometimes I add some fresh chives if I'm feeling precious.

That is my favorite popcorn, and it is the fucking bomb.

9.  What character do you think deserved a better redemption arc (or to get one when they didn’t)?

Actually, I'm going to go back to my She-Ra headcanon from above.  I know it was a child's cartoon from the 1980's.  But even when I was a child I understood that some transgressions are just too big for "Whoops, sorry I was like brainwashed and stuff" to cut it.  She needed trials, tribulations.  She needed to earn her place.  Earn the right for redemption.  I'd love to see a take on the series that digs into that.  (That and the Hordak/Adora relationship.  Why the fuck did he raise her to be innocent when keeping her that way was so much trouble?  Was she a trophy?  Was she the one good thing in his life?  If so, why did he make her fight for him?  Did he ever care for her at all?  These questions should keep her up at night.  She should be torn between hatred and love for the father figure she thought she'd had.  IT WOULD BE SO DELICIOUS)

10.  What element would you choose if you could bend/control ONE.

Carbon.  I'd basically have control over everything organic and RULE THE WORLD MUA HA HA HA HA

I’m tagging the following people (entirely voluntary, of course):

@mercury01, @minttytea, @doesitlooklikeineedanotherfandom, @silvercrystal1, @basedpandesal, @cinnamonviking, @spideypool-snarryalways, @planeoftheeclectic, @ihaveacrappyusername, and all of the porn bots.

My questions:

1. What would your ideal T-shirt slogan read?

2. What is your comfort food, activity, and/or piece of clothing, and why?

3. Which fandom are you the most proud to be part of?  Which fandom are you ashamed of?  They can be the same fandom.

4. Name one thing about yourself that you like.  This must be genuine.  NO SIDESTEPPING, SELF-NEGGING, OR BACKHANDED SHIT.  IF I CAN DO IT YOU CAN.

5. Do you have any traditions in your family that you’ve inherited and are happy to carry forward?  Are there any traditions that you’d like to start yourself?

6. What are your pet(s) name(s)?  If you don’t have a pet, what would you name your fantasy pet?

7. What of yours would you like archaeologists (alien or future humans; your choice) to dig up one day?  Why?

8. You’ve done all of those “What’s your porn/writer/Star Wars/etc name” memes.  We all have.  What’s your favorite one?

9. What song summarizes you?

10. What’s your superpower?  Will you be a hero or a villain?

BONUS QUESTION BECAUSE MY HUSBAND WANTS TO CONTRIBUTE BUT IS A SMARTASS: 

11. If Richard the Lionheart had actually taken his shit seriously, do you think he could have spanked Saladin, or did existing socioeconomic and political conditions doom his Crusade to failure?