#the last two cases being the only ones i could mildly enjoy was crazy

[minothtime]

insane to me how danganronpa has some of the most interesting and uplifting speeches of all time, along with genuinely fun characters, and then it has the most dogshit fucking writing you could ever read for hours on end and characters so badly written that you sigh in relief when they're dead and gone

[deltaengineering]

Spring Anime 2023: It builds character

Yuri is my Job!

I really wanted to like this one. As a noted Marimite enjoyer, as much as I like the stilted, abstract and operatic vibe of Class S, I also always felt that it's also a prime avenue for metafiction that takes a closer look at how bizarre that setting really is when looked at from outside. So this show about a bunch of girls that have to act out Class S gayfabe in a themed cafe seemed to have limitless potential.

There's only two problems with Watayuri: The first one is that it's not that show. It does not really engage with its setting much and is mostly interested in just being straightforward heightened yuri drama. This seems to be a case of the Re:Zeros or Mob Psychos: The writer is intimately familiar with the tropes, but isn't really interested in actually engaging with them beyond surface level, so they just wrote essentially Another One Of Those with a few jokes.

So that's a disappointment, but since this genre is so rare in anime I'd still have gladly taken it if it was good. But... it's not. Not only is it not Metamite, it's not even a bad Marimite; It's more like a bad Citrus. Drama like this requires really good characters, and all the characters in Watayuri are gimmicky and shallow: Hime's base characteristic is that she puts up a fake personality, which is treated with all the nuance an isekai writer exhibits when they make their main character OP via giving them a cheat skill, and she has just forgotten than Yano used to be her best friend. All other drama derives from this bad idea, so none of it really works. I could go through the entire cast but this review is already too long, so suffice it to say, if they seem interesting that only lasts as long as it takes for their drama to arrive.

It's really a shame, because even with these simplistic, unlikeable characters you could have made an entertaining, (early) Kaguya-ish comedy — which is why the few instances where they do exactly that save the show from being worthless. But still, having to admit the best episode in the entire thing is the one where the new uniforms make Yano's breasts look too big really points out the problem here. 5/10

Skip and Loafer

Skip and Loafer does raise a profound question: Can a show be so much of a 6/10 that it becomes a 5/10? I'm honestly surprised how little I enjoyed this show, because there's nothing really obviously wrong with it: it's lighthearted, cute, amusing, relatable, etc., and I've enjoyed many a banal Kiraralike in the past. But in the end, I think the reason is that there really isn't anything substantive to Skip and Loafer. It's bland and inoffensive to a fault and devoid of anything even remotely edgy. It's not funny enough to work as a comedy, it's not a romance because it really doesn't commit to that, and we'll get to the "drama".

The only really driving factor (and the show's biggest asset, as it were) is Mitsumi's tryhard but good-natured personality, and that can only get the show so far, especially since all the character development she gets is to become more normal and boring. As an aside that doesn't really fit anywhere else: I also really dislike hearing the clipped, stilted way Kurosawa delivers her lines in this show, which is weird because she's usually a very good actress. Shima is just boring from the start and has no chemistry with Mitsumi, and when he imports some contrived crazy ex drama into the show at the end it's eyerollingly stupid, but hey, that's as close to "something happening" as the show ever gets. Not that it matters with how inconsequential it is. The supporting cast is generally mildly amusing, but they're just sort of there and don't offer anything meaningful besides their presence.

Sure, none of those issues are close to dealbreakers, but what's lacking is a deal in the first place. I can understand why someone would like the show and I would not recommend against it, but it's just way too shallow. Even for me. 5/10

Jigokuraku

If you want to know what's bad about Jigokuraku, here it is: Glacial pacing, an intense amount of jargonbabble, flashbacks in the middle of fights everywhere, running commentary by bystanders on everything that happens, random powerups galore, and no ending.

However, I would assume that nobody saw the first episode and went away thinking "oh boy, sure hope this isn't an extra edgy shounen fighting manga". It most definitely is what it is, but with expectations duly adjusted, Jigokuraku is... fine, actually. It's got cool visuals, good production values, a fantastic OP (if nothing else, the show's a good excuse to listen to that song once a week), and most importantly really good characters for a show like this. None of them are particularly deep, but when they're just there to:

Be mammals,

Fight ALL the time,

Have the purpose to flip out and kill people,

I'm already content if they're more interesting than the ISO standard Shounen Jump (i.e., Dragonball Z) cast. It's just fun seeing Sagiri fret over whether she's really good enough at beheading people, or Gabimaru doing everything for a wife that may or may not exist, or Yuzuriha getting out her... well, let's stop this here. This show is cool; and by cool, I mean totally sweet. 6/10

Otaku Edomae Elf

I was pretty skeptical of this one at the beginning, because self-serving otaku jokes tend to get very old and also because the author uses RPG Elves as a shortcut to "immortal ancient being", which isn't a sign of high ambitions, especially nowadays. And while the elf part doesn't really matter one way or the other, the majority of the show is indeed Elda being a nerd and doing nerd things. It's not a large majority though, and the rest of the show provides an interesting thematic framework to hang the jokes on. The real core of the show is the odd couple relationship between Koito and Elda, with the former desperately wanting to be an adult while the latter has been around for practically forever while still being completely immature. It's very cute and sweet, and it's even better in the occasional moments where it becomes bittersweet because both of them are well aware of the only way this can end up. Skip and Loafer take note: you don't have to have much, but you have to have something.

It of course helps that Edomae Elf (the name that I prefer, for obvious reasons) is well made; It's very expressive and has good comedic timing, which are the key factors for a sitcom like this. I'll also note the OP; it goes unreasonably hard and is possibly even better than Jigokuraku's. And even if otaku jokes are a low-hanging fruit, the show usually does a good job with them. The exactly one (1) legally obligated history lesson per half-episode feels a bit too forced though. And that's pretty much it with this anime, it's not the most ambitious but it's very charming and moderately thoughtful, even if its structure is holding it back somewhat. 7/10

Heavenly Delusion

Very rarely do we get a TV anime where the main artistic impulse just seems to be "we don't give a fuck what you think, lol", but here it is: Heavenly Delusion is mostly just wild. Sure, postapocalyptic roadmovies aren't exactly a new idea, but I usually like them, so that's a good start, and this one in particular comes with an interesting setting and a bunch of great characters. But what really elevates Heavenly Delusion is its command of tone, or in particular, its ability to run circles around tone issues. This show can snap from comedy to drama to mystery to action to horror unpredictably and quickly, and it's a marvel that any of this works at all, but on top of that it has a fondness for exceedingly touchy subjects and each episode could probably come with its own unique set of trigger warnings. It really reminds me of a Fire Force without the shounen bullshit, and that's high praise.

Clearly the writer has a lot of skill, but the anime direction and production takes it to the next level. Heavenly Delusion has great direction and movie-level production values throughout, and then does flexes like getting a bunch of KyoAni guys in to make a mawkish KyoAni episode that's better than anything KoyAni has made in years, and later getting a bunch of TRIGGER guys in to make a wacky TRIGGER episode that's better than anything TRIGGER has done in years. Ya love to see it.

But given all the hairy stuff this show attempts, it can't have a 100% success rate, right? And no, it does not always succeed. It's not even a surprise that it happens, it's rather a surprise it only happens so late, at the ending – where it hurts the most. For starters, it doesn't really have an ending. That's to be expected from an ongoing and long manga, but it's still a bummer. But more critically, said abrupt stoppage happens right after one of the grimmest arcs in the show. This is sadly the one point where the tone falls apart; they didn't want to end on a down note, but it just doesn't work to go from ultra rape o'clock to "our fun adventure continues, bye :D" in one and a half scenes. The show has dealt with heavy material before and it has proven it can pull off the swerve off, but in that instance it just runs out of air time before it can actually do it. So while it's unreasonable to expect the show to be several times as long as it is, it would at least have sorely needed one more episode to uncompress its ending. I guess that if you consistently play with fire, you get burnt eventually, but at least there were pretty lights. A second season would be much appreciated. 8/10

The Witch from Mercury

Back when G-Witch started its break, I said that "all they have to do was not mess with a good thing". Obviously, they messed with a good thing and Sulemio cuteness was replaced with them both suffering alone for the majority of the second half. So now what? The plot in this second half is best described as "messy". Notably, it's lacking in throughline: First it's all about opaque machinations and corporate backstabbing, then lol jk that doesn't matter and everyone pulls a Death Star out of their ass, and then that gets resolved with the Power of Love™ and vague Newtype mysticism. Gundams gonna Gundam, I suppose. Towards the end it also obviously runs out of time, and everything needs to happen very quickly, yet it still keeps on piling on subplots for various reasons — be it corporate franchise mandates like "we made a Schwarzette toy, now deal with it somehow", some thing that was set up ages ago that now has to pay off somehow no matter what (like Notrette's whole deal) or just the pure mechanics of shuffling pieces into place for something that never needed to be this complicated in the first place.

However, despite this large-scale jank G-Witch still ends up a very good show purely based on its writing detail. It doesn't really matter all that much that scenes barely fit together and are jammed against each other without connective tissue when the scenes themselves almost always deliver on their own terms. In particular, G-Witch consistently has great character moments no matter how weird the route to get to them is. That dumb Lauda subplot that's only there to sell HG Schwarzettes? Its true payoff is the best Felsi moment in the show when she just walks in and aborts the misbegotten plot tumor. Was it really worth it making a whole "Guel stumbles into Iron-Blooded Orphans" episode when the show desperately needed more time to wrap up its main plot? Maybe not, but Guel getting told by random ass mercenaries that he needs to man the fuck up before him doing exactly that is just an extremely satisfying moment no matter what.

And while the epilogue is a bit flat on the plot side, it has to be said that while cheesy as hell it takes the time to send every character off properly and gives everyone a happy ending (Sulemio paying off in the end isn't much of a surprise since I don't think that Ookouichi wants to spend the rest of his life in the witness protection program). That is pretty much the show in a nutshell, ultimately it's less well constructed than it sh/c-ould have been and it's held back by being a Gundam show after all, but it's always entertaining, and that is what matters the most. 8/10

Insomniacs After School

While I don't know why I dislike Skip and Loafer, I am also not quite sure why I love this show so much. The concept takes some suspension of dislike right away, because I am extremely skeptical of "sadboi stumbles into magical girlfriend that's prefect but only compatible with him in this one specific random way". But boy, once it gets rolling it nails the whole "first love, also big seishun energy" in a rare form that we haven't seen since Tsuki ga Kirei. It's all in the characters once again, and Ganta in particular is exceptionally well constructed. He seems whiny and self-centered at first, but as it turns out, yeah, he's supposed to be like that (his first big character development milestone is him realizing that other people have problems too and that his woe-is-me attitude isn't helpful), plus he has a very understandable reason. He still has that attitude, but now we know he can't help it. It's the rare case of "relatable" and "backstory drama" done right - the drama is there, but it's in the past, can be established in a tiny amount of time and doesn't suck the enjoyment out of the present. And then you can drag it up and swiftly deal with it when the story calls for it — The point is not to have maximum drama onscreen, but to motivate the characters. Magari has this going too (even if I think she still ends up being a bit too "perfect" for my taste, to be honest), and even Yui, someone we know almost nothing about, ends up feeling unique and well rounded, so I think it's fair to say that Skip and Loafer's lacking characters are just a skill issue. Add to that a more one-note but enjoyable supporting cast, and you have a banger of feelgood, wholesome and yes, monumentally cheesy puppy love about a bunch of cute dorks that you can't help but grin about. The production values don't always quite hold up, but who cares when it knows what it wants to be and goes all in when it needs to, and yes, it does have as satisfying and ending as you can expect from one of these. Grand fromage avec compétence is probably not the palate cleanser for everyone, but it's my blog so skill with it. 9/10

[mentally-in-northern-italy]

Wrong Idea — James Potter x reader

***not my gif***

Summary: You have a big crush on James Potter but have to live with the ‘fact’ that James is smitten with your best friend, Lily. But is this really the case, or have you just got the wrong idea?

Word count: 2.9K

A/N: Hi! Second fic, whoooo! No one really requested this but it just came to me. Again, a bit too long for my liking, but it’s okay. Any feedback is very much appreciated. Requests are open, so feel free! Enjoy!!

_________________

“He is totally staring at you, Lily,” you whisper to your friend as you stand beside her, both pretending to be overly concentrated on finding just the finest box of Chocolate Frogs that Honeydukes has to offer. 

“He is not,” Lily whispers back, acting as if this prospect sounds ridiculously unbelievable but you could see her small smile as she tried her best not to glance at his direction. She continued to act as though she was very carefully examining a box of Chocolate Frogs as you chuckled quietly, trying to ignore the faint pang in your chest.

James Potter. Star Quidditch player. Self-appointed ‘mom’ of the Marauders. Personification of the very cliche, but fitting phrase, “messy hair, don’t care”. And, of course, a very famous lady’s man.

And, lastly, your ‘former’ crush who was now seemingly smitten with your best friend, Lily.

You weren’t sure when it was exactly when you had realized that you were inordinately conscious of how you looked whenever he was around, how you stole quick glances at him throughout your shared Potions class, hoping he wouldn’t notice, or how much the thought of the raven-haired boy consumed your mind. Slowly, but surely, your crush on James had developed into something so strong and overwhelming, you couldn’t even think of confiding in anyone else. Not even your best friend, Lily Evans. 

When you had heard about the rumours and gossip circulating around the school, about how James was supposedly head-over-heels for a certain red-head, you had tried your very hardest to force those feelings out of you. You couldn’t have a crush on James. He liked Lily. End of story.

You felt even worse when Lily would blush mildly, her cheeks turning as red as her hair, whenever James stopped you two to talk in the middle of the hallway. How Lily would talk your ears off about how much she hated James, and how annoying and arrogant she perceived him to be, but you knew better. You knew Lily liked James too, maybe not as outwardly as James liked her, but enough to make you feel like a terrible person for liking the same guy as your best friend of five years.

And now, you couldn’t help but notice the way James’ eyes seemed to follow you two, as he stood by a shelf at the entrance of the shop, watching you both weave around the shelves stocked with sweets and treats in Honeydukes, talking quietly amongst yourselves.

“Lily, you like him, he likes you,” you try to tell her once again, ignoring how it made your heart sting a little every time you thought of them together, “why, in Merlin’s name, are you acting so oblivious?”

“[Y/N],” she scoffed, feigning offense, “I’m not acting oblivious. And I don’t like him. I just don’t… mind him.” 

“Mhm,” you hummed as you picked up a cauldron cake off the shelf, “I totally believe you, Lils.” 

“Believe what you want, [Y/L/N],” she retorted with a clever smile but the smile started to falter as she started to look more nervous, looking steadily at something behind you.

You turned around to look at what it was exactly that had her looking so alarmed and were just as alarmed when you saw James approaching you two, after abandoning the display he was previously taking a close look at, with a confident smile set on his handsome face. 

“[Y/L/N],” he greeted as he smiled at you for a millisecond too long, sending butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy, “Evans.”

“Potter,” Lily greeted him back curtly, her face set into a smile that conveyed politeness but not necessarily obvious interest.

Maybe it was your failure to repress your intense feelings for James, but you could’ve sworn that he was looking intently at you, perhaps in the hopes that you would also acknowledge him in some way. But, you didn’t trust yourself to be able to speak without melting into a stuttering mess so you stayed quiet, averting eye contact, and fidgeting with the packet of the cauldron cake in your hands. 

“Did you need something, Potter?” Lily questioned, raising a single eyebrow. James’ gaze still hadn’t left you but he was forced to tear his eyes off of you to address Lily. 

“Oh, no, I don’t need anything,” he remarked, regaining his confident (bordering on arrogant) composure as his eyes involuntarily shifted to you once again, “I just wanted to ask something.”

This captured your attention as your eyes jumped up from the cake in your hands to the sly smile that James was sending you and Lily. This is it, you thought, he’s going to ask her out and--

“Is there any chance, [Y/N],” James started out, sending you a sincere look, making your breath hitch in your throat, “that you could give up that Cauldron Cake?” 

“Huh?” you say in surprise. Cauldron Cake? 

“The one you have in your hand,” he smiled, “Uh, Padfoot, apparently, has been craving one for a few weeks and, unfortunately, that’s the last one they have. I looked all over.” 

“Oh,” you said, a bit awkwardly, evidently struggling to find the right words for this unusual sort of situation, “yeah, I guess you can…” 

“Y’know, I told him that’s not how cravings work,” he tried to crack a joke as you handed the cake to him, his hands slightly brushing against your own, making you weak in the knees, “but he claims I wouldn’t get it. It’s just a dog--, uh, a Sirius thing, I guess.” 

He laughed an incredibly awkward laugh, while you and Lily stood there, clearly unsure of what to do. It would not be correct to say you didn’t laugh because  you thought what James had just said was unfunny… no, it was more about the fact that you hadn’t understood it at all. This wasn’t like James. Sure, James’ jokes weren’t hilarious but they certainly weren’t as… dry as the one he just told. If you could even call it a ‘joke’. It sounded an awful lot like he just winged it -- came up with a half-assed joke just for the sake of coming up with one. Not a typical James Potter move, that much you knew. 

Lily was watching this exchange occur with weirdly curious interest. She wasn’t sure what was happening but she also couldn’t tear her eyes away from darting back between you and James. It didn’t take her too long to get a general gist of what was going on… she was the brightest witch in her year, after all.

“Right,” you say, attempting to swiftly leave this incredibly strange conversation, “I’m afraid Lils and I should get going now. Enjoy the… cake.”

“Oh,” James looked down at the cake, as if he had entirely forgotten he had it in his hands and then back up at you, “yes. Thank you, by the way, for the cake. I’ll see you back at the common room, [Y/N]. Evans.” He nodded in Lily’s direction, while he mentally cursed himself for acting so awkward.

Before anyone could say anything else, you took a hold of Lily’s gloved hand and started to lead her towards the exit of the shop, ignoring whatever it was she was saying to you. You shook your head a little as ridiculous thoughts started flooding your brain. Why did he use my first name and not Lily’s? Am I reading into this too much? Am I going crazy? 

You had decided that the latter two were more likely to be the case when the corner of your eye caught an entire shelf in front of the entrance of the shop, stocked with Cauldron Cakes. And the display wasn’t too far away from where James originally stood. In fact, that’s the very display he was checking out when you had noticed him staring. 

________________

You groaned as Marlene and Lily dragged you out of the dorm room, against your will, mind you, insisting that it was absolutely crucial that you abandon your History of Magic of homework and follow them.

“We have a test coming up!” you tried to reason with them, “Lily, Mar, come on, we should be studying!”

“Studying can wait, [Y/N],” Marlene said to you, matter-of-factly, “Quidditch cannot.”

They dragged you by the arm, through the Gryffindor common room, to the Quidditch game, which was just about to start. Today was a big day; the first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. 

You, of course, knew what this meant. 

James Potter. Flying around on his broom. Being a brilliant chaser.

You had never been a particular fan of the game, but when you had started liking James, you found yourself going to the Quidditch pitch quite often. That is, until you deemed your feelings for James to be forbidden. Now, Quidditch games were just about the same as rubbing salt to your, very deep, wounds. 

The way he would look over at Lily, who stood right beside you, and wink at her made you angry. And not angry at Lily or James, but angry at yourself. All the glances he would send her way only made you get mad at yourself for ever feeling this way about someone who was so far out of your reach.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Lily said as you snapped out of your thoughts, leading you through the hallways in the direction of the Gryffindor stands.

“Yeah,” you mutter under your breath, with a twinge of sadness, making sure she wouldn’t hear, “for you.”

_______________

Gryffindor had won the match. Hufflepuff played exceptionally well, but it was no match for the Gryffindor’s brilliant offensive tactics. 

As the Gryffindor seeker had caught the snitch, the cheering in the stands rang out. You, Lily and Marlene jumped up, screaming and clapping, overjoyed at this brilliant win. 

“Come on,” Marlene said excitedly, “let’s go down to the pitch!”

“What?” you asked, alarmed. You did not want to be in close proximity to James right now. Not when his jersey would be clinging onto his body and his hair would be all sweaty and his face all red, making him look even more hands-

“Yes! Let’s go,” Lily agreed instantly, dragging you by the arm. 

You groaned once again but you knew they wouldn’t listen. As you three, no, as you two were walking down, -- Marlene was practically skipping -- thoughts of the Quidditch match in action flooded your mind. James sent so many winks and smirks in Lily’s direction that you could’ve sworn by Merlin that some of them were to you. Or this was just wishful thinking. After all, Lily was sitting right beside you. You decide that this is just you getting confused -- but then again, why did Lily always glance your way after James smiled at you, as he scored a goal, expecting you to react in some way? And why did she look genuinely pleased, instead of having even the hint of jealousy in her eyes? 

There’s nothing for her to be jealous about, you told yourself repeatedly, he was looking at Lily. 

As you three reached the Quidditch pitch, you could see clumps of students, crowding the Quidditch players, congratulating them excitedly. 

“Lily, I came to the match,” you tried to whisper to her as you two stood there, unsure of where to go, “can I please go study now?” 

“No, [Y/N] [Y/L/N]!” providing special emphasis on your full name, yelling loudly, capturing the attention of everyone on the pitch. Everyone’s head turned to look at you as you seemed to shrink into yourself and Lily wore a proud smile on her face, looking at you slyly. 

The mention of your full name had attracted a lot of unwanted attention. But it also, almost immediately, seemed to attract some wanted attention as well. 

Well, not wanted, that wasn’t allowed as per your rules, but appreciated, nonetheless. 

James’ head turned to you as he diverted his attention from some excited first-years to you and Lily. Your eyes had widened remarkably, your face had started to heat up and the butterflies in your stomach who had seemed to be asleep previously, had now woken up. 

“Oh, would you look at that,” Lily said quickly, “Thomas Lee looks dashing, I’m going to go tell him congratulations!” And with that, she walked away from you and towards Lee, the Gryffindor keeper.

James had started walking over to you as you stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do. Do you meet him halfway? Do you keep standing there? Merlin, why did this have to be so difficult? 

“[Y/N], so glad you could make it,” he smirked at you as he pushed his sweaty hair back. 

“Uh, yeah, congratulations,” you said, trying to keep yourself from looking at his figure, “you played really well.” 

“Thanks!” said James, with, what looked like, genuine gratefulness, before the look in his eyes turned cocky again, “Although, I’ve played better. This game was a piece of cake.” 

“Of course,” you couldn’t help but smile softly at his words. This is the James you knew. The James you liked. The James you shouldn’t like.

“Speaking of cake!” he exclaimed suddenly, trying to salvage this conversation from turning awkward, “Thanks again for that cauldron cake! I was so bummed when I found they had run out.” 

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” you told him politely, when you remembered something. 

They hadn’t run out of cauldron cakes. In fact, they had them all piled up on the shelf right in front of the entrance. Before you could say anything, James started speaking again.

“Y’know, there’s a Hogsmeade trip coming up,” he started out confidently, but the slight shaking of his hands and the easy-to-miss quiver in his voice indicated otherwise.

“Yes, I know,” you told him, quietly. Was he telling you to ask Lily for him? Godric knows you would never be able to do that. “Lily knows too, so… you can ask her. I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

“What?” he looked very surprised, his eyebrows had furrowed as if he had no idea why you had mentioned that. 

“The Hogsmeade trip. You should ask her. She might seem like she would say no but she’ll say yes.” You ignored the feeling of your heart sinking. 

“But, I don’t want to.” he said with a slight shake of his head.

“What?” 

“I wanted to ask you.” his voice had gotten unusually quiet.

You were in absolute shock, to say the least. James Potter wanted to ask you? To Hogsmeade? What about Lily? 

“What about Lily?” you asked, confusedly, “I thought-- everyone thought--”

“I like you, not Evans,” he told you with no hesitation, “who said I liked her?”

“Literally everyone thinks so.”

“Well, they must have gotten the wrong idea.”

“But--”

“[Y/N], for someone so bloody smart, you are incredibly oblivious,” James said, with the slightest bit of his irritation showing through, “Didn’t you see me staring at you? Winking? For Merlin’s sake, there wasn’t a shortage of Cauldron Cakes back at Honeydukes! I just wanted to talk to you.” 

“But you were staring at Lily,” you say defensively, “not me. Why would you do that?”

“Because… I like you?” 

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!” 

You shook your head in frustration. You couldn’t do this to Lily. This is not what best friends do. No, there is no way you would act on these feelings.

“Lily!” you turn away from James and make your way over to Lily, “we need to go.” 

You drag Lily away from Lee and start making your way off the pitch, leaving Lee and James staring at you both in confusion.

“So, did you say yes?” she asked you as you tried to walk as fast as you could without making it seem like you’re running away.

“What?” you turn to her. 

“To James? He asked you out, didn’t he?” she asked eagerly. You were surprised to see she wasn’t sad. At all. In fact, she seemed happy for you. 

“But you like James,” you tried to tell her, trying to work this whole situation out, standing only a few feet away from James and Lee, who were watching this interaction intently. Didn’t she?

“I thought I did,” she told you, “but I think I only convinced myself that I did, because I thought he liked me. To be honest, I really don’t. And all those times you tried to tell me he was staring at me? It was always you, [Y/N], I just happened to be standing right beside you every time.”

“But, I--,” you struggled to find words. 

“Look,” Lily said as she put a hand to your shoulder, “I know you like him. I also know he likes you. Why, in Merlin’s name, are you acting so oblivious?” she said, imitating your words from that trip to Honeydukes.

“You really don’t like him?” you asked, unsure of what you wanted the answer to be. On one hand, you would love to go out with James, on the other, you never wanted to hurt Lily’s feelings.

“No! Not even one bit,” she reassured you, “I’m a bit relieved, really, plus, I think I’ve found myself a keeper.” She turned away from you to face Lee, still stood a few feet away from you two, and smiled. Lee winked back. You laughed at this and reluctantly turned your head to James, also stood a few feet away from you. He stood with his confidence a little diminished, looking defeated. But he still gave you a small smile and waved awkwardly.

“Go! Say yes,” Lily told you, chuckling, “We can even go on double dates together.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully at Lily before you took a deep breath in and started to make your way towards him. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Um.”

“Let’s start over,” you told him as you straightened your posture and fixed your hair. 

“Start over?” he asked, regaining the arrogance.

“Ask me out again, Potter,” you told him, having found confidence yourself after your talk with Lily. You no longer felt bad about liking James. And you felt even better knowing he liked you.

“Oh, yes!” James plastered his smirk back on his face, “There's a Hogsmeade trip coming up, [Y/N].” 

“Yes, I’m aware,” you nodded and smiled, stifling giggles from erupting.

“Let’s go together.” he said cockily, his eyes twinkling.

“That was pathetic, James,” you said as you started to laugh softly.

“Hey!” 

“But yes. Let’s,” you told him with a mischievous smile, “Maybe this time, I can help you find the very noticeable, hard-to-miss Cauldron Cake display.” 

“Deal.” He sent you his infamous James Potter grin at which you grinned back.

[elsewhereuniversity]

The fae didn’t really understand time as mortals did. The thing that lived under the glade certainly didn’t. It was vaguely aware that sometimes humans came and sometimes they left, and when they came that was a Fresh Man, and when they left that was a Graduation. It was less clear on the finer details, but what it boiled down to was an ever changing variety of prey to sniff out and play with. That was all most humans were to it; something to hunt for food or entertainment, whichever struck its fancy.

Most of the creatures it was acquainted with, then, would see it preparing for the party and assume it was hungry (or bored, as the case may be). They would be wrong. True, it wouldn’t turn down a snack, if it was convenient, but it had other plans for the night as well. Rosalind’s graduation party was supposed to be a small, intimate get-together for those who knew Rosalind best. It had decided that after three and a half years of surveillance, it was one of those who knew Rosalind best, and invitation or not, it deserved to be there.

So here it was, disguised as a handsome youth with dark hair and glittering brown eyes, walking towards the clearing in the forest as if it possessed one of the few invitations Rosalind had seen fit to send out. Someone stopped it just as the lights came into view.

“Sorry, I need to see your invitation-” the girl began, hand already on a poker thrust through a belt. The creature turned its gaze to her, giving its best imitation of a friendly smile. It probably looked grotesque, but the glamor did its work, and the girl withdrew her hand, looking slightly dazed. “Oh- never mind…” she trailed off, as if expecting a name. It would need one of those, it supposed.

“Windcutter,” it said, gracing the girl with another smile. She blushed, waving it through. It was that easy. It was always that easy. It frowned for a second. Was something strange? It dismissed that thought nearly immediately. It was just imagining things, distracting itself from the reason it was here.

The newly christened Windcutter swept its gaze around the party. There were little lights in glass bubbles- faerie lights, he remembered dimly from some conversation. The mood lighting was entirely lost on something with perfect night vision, but it highlighted Rosalind’s face as she hopped down from a tree, brushing off her clothes. Unconsciously, Windcutter’s hand went to its shoulder as phantom pain tingled down the equivalent of its arm.

It was supposed to be easy. The mortals’ minds did most of the work for it; once they hit the glamor, they would fabricate details to cover up any of the little holes. The trick, it had learned, was to add some mild imperfections- these days, the students were wary of anyone too pretty. It had worked for- well, for however long it had been before Rosalind came along.

She was Gar then, one of the Fresh Men, and her roommate had been Koi. Oddly, it barely remembered what Koi smelled like, just that when it saw her at a party, it had deigned it the superior of the two. It had been simple to flirt with her, throw up enough charm that anything it said would attract it, that no warning bells had gone off.

And when Gar had left the party, gone into the back alley, and found it with what remained of Koi, it had been child’s play to send a wave of glamor at her so strong that it wouldn’t have been surprised if Gar had let it consume her as well. It was, understandably, a little surprised when Gar pulled a solid-iron knife and stabbed it. The surprise was nothing compared with the pain, though, and it had… well. It was embarrassing, but it had run, crawling under the glade to metaphorically lick its wounds. It had been mildly perturbed to find that even after it healed, any form it took had a little silver line of scar on the shoulder.

That was how the story ended, somehow. Gar had turned to the knights, and then turned herself to a knight. Somewhere along the way she became Rosalind, and all along the way the creature watched the mortal being that had wounded it for the only time in its long, long life. Its feelings were somewhere between fear and fascination- it had never bothered to follow up on any mortal before, but it had watched as Rosalind declared her major (in “biology”, but everyone knew she was Forbidden Major), had chartered a truce between some of the forbidden majors and the courts, had disappeared for three weeks and reappeared looking haggard but none the worse for wear. This was its last chance to see her up close, so for tonight, it was not hunting. It was… mingling.

It approached one of the party guests milling around. The boy smiled at it as it lightly prodded its influence to surround him.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s…”

“Windcutter,” Windcutter supplied.

“Right, Windcutter, from…”

“School." 

"Windcutter from school,” he said, blinking and nodding. “I remember, yeah. How are you?”

This close, Windcutter could see the freckles on his face, smell the sweat on him, and it had to remind itself that it was there to see Rosalind, not to hunt. The boy was still smiling, it realized, waiting for it to answer as it stared hungrily at him.

“I am well,” it said, a truthful answer. “And you?”

“Looking forward to the rest of the night,” he said, leaning conspiratorially towards Windcutter. “I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

“Bond,” said a clear voice that Windcutter had listened to for three years, “are you monopolizing…”

“Windcutter,” Windcutter said again, turning the full force of its smile to Rosalind. Once again, it had the nagging feeling that something was off, and it had to resist the urge to scratch its shoulder.

“Are you monopolizing Windcutter?” Rosalind finished.

“Not if you want to talk to them,” Bond said. He flashed another charming smile at Windcutter, who made a mental note to see if he could be lured into the woods. “I’ll just go take care of other business, shall I?”

“Sure,” Rosalind said, rolling her eyes. “And make sure that the guards are on alert!” she yelled after his retreating form.

“Guards?” Windcutter said, tilting its head coquettishly to one side. It was just as well that it had glamor to cover for it- it could never remember how far humans were supposed to be able to do that. “Is something the matter?”

“Well, friend,” Rosalind said, then squinted quizzically at it. “Did I never tell you about this?”

“I believe not.”

“Huh.” She looked down. “Well, my friend, this may sound crazy, but I believe that something has been watching me for the past few years.”

“Watching you?” It could have laughed.

“It sounds farfetched, yes, but… I can feel its eyes on me, sometimes. I think I know what it is, too.”

“Do tell,” it purred.

“Do you remember my roommate?”

“Koi, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Rosalind looked away. “Koi. Well, something took her freshman year.”

“How terrible.” It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or disappointed; relieved it was in no danger, disappointed that Rosalind was so far below its estimation.

“I found her,” Rosalind said. “And that thing standing over her. It tried to make me… I don’t really know. Forget, or stop caring, but I was so angry that it just washed over me, and I stabbed it, and it ran.”

“How brave of you.” The creature shifted in place slightly. Something was definitely strange here. It felt… it didn’t know. Something.

“I didn’t really have much choice,” Rosalind said with a laugh. She drew a sword, idly flipping it in her hand. “It was instinct. I think if it was anything else, I wouldn’t be here today. Whatever it did- did you know, somehow it had managed to make her take off her iron and salt?”

The creature knew, of course it did, it-

Wait.

Rosalind was no fool. She couldn’t be, in order to have lived this long as a knight or a Forbidden Major. Protection was basic enough that even the newest and most naive knew to have it, to demand to see it.

And it had gotten this far without any protection at all. No lines of salt, no running water, nothing. The fact they hadn’t touched it with iron or salt could be put down to its power, but not the basic, rudimentary safety procedures for an outdoor party.

Alarm bells started ringing in Windcutter’s head. Who held a party outside, in the woods, in the dark?

“We were close, did you know that?” Rosalind continued. She still wasn’t looking at it. “She even told me her true name. Trusting to a fault." 

"I… should go,” Windcutter said. It had ignored its instincts for too long. Something was wrong.

“It was Rosalind,” Rosalind said. “I never forgot.” And then, finally, she met its eyes.

Windcutter jerked back, a hiss of revulsion bubbling from its throat. It was not Rosalind’s eyes in her face: they glittered as if cut from gems, and, worse, it knew somehow that she could see it, really, see it. It felt suddenly like a butterfly pinned to paper, trying to squirm away from that horrible perception. It turned, still hissing, to see Bond returning, armed with a spear. He wasn’t smiling anymore, and now that it was looking, it realized that his eyes glittered similarly. All of the partygoers eyes did, they- they could all see it- 

“A little deal with the Spring Queen,” Rosalind said conversationally behind it. “Three weeks of my time to serve her, and for every day, an hour of Sight and a clear mind for someone at my little soiree.”

It bolted then, half-mad with the eyes of the party boring into it. It sprinted into the woods, then screamed as it hit the salt line, scrambling back on burning feet. Of course there was a salt line now. They had lured it in.

“Tell me,” Rosalind said as it whirled. She was on guard now, sword out and willing. “Why did you watch me?”

“Never been hurt before,” it said, the truth being dragged out almost against its will. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be above its prey.

“Really.”

“You’re leaving soon,” it said. Offering a deal was something it hadn’t done before, but it needed a way out, and Rosalind’s speech had given it an idea. “Let me out and I can promise you you’ll forget what happened to her. You can let go of the anger.”

“Who told you I was leaving?” Rosalind smiled, all teeth and no friendliness. “My classes are over, but I’m staying. Someone has to make sure beasts like you don’t hunt for too long.”

The creature hadn’t ever really had to fight; nobody had armed themselves against it, after all. Its claws slid out almost involuntarily as the fear and rage flowed through it, rendering it incapable of human speech. It hissed again defiantly.

“That’s right,” Rosalind said, her voice almost hypnotically soothing. “It’s you or me. One of us leaves tonight, the other one stays here forever.” Without moving her eyes from the creature, she jerked her head over her shoulder. “The salt line has a break in it behind me. Get through me, and you can leave.”

Frightened, cornered, the creature growled deep in its throat and unthinkingly sprang.

-bean

[willyoulovemeinthemorning]

The Prodigal Daughter Chapter 1

Summary: As the secret daughter of Jason Gideon, you’ve always had a certain proclivity towards profiling. After finishing the Academy, you finally have your chance in the BAU- only months after your dad’s passing. Will it all be too much? Will you find yourself sharing another proclivity with your father for a certain genius with big puppy dog eyes?  A/N: Hello! This is my first fic in a very long time, but this story idea has been living in my head for upwards of 6 or 7 years! Please go easy on me, and I hope you enjoy! a big thanks to @candlesandsoftrain for being a great beta! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
 Category: Fluff/getting to know you games with the team Content Warning: nothing in this chapter except lots of flirting, tension, sexually charged drinking games, etc. Later chapters will include NSFW Word Count: 4000+

Chapter 1

The years moved by much too fast for your liking. You were older than you were willing to admit, and the years had been hard. Time moved so oddly- it was so difficult and slow when it was happening, but when you looked back, it was as if it sped by like a freight train.

Today was your first day at your new job-  you were 27 and you’d been waiting your whole life for this day to finally come. After hearing stories about your father all through your life; catching the monsters in the dark as well as those that hide in plain sight… you wanted to be a superhero too. And lucky for you, you had a certain proclivity towards reading people. So, you became a profiler. And after years of grueling school, training and fighting to earn your place with no one knowing the legacy in your blood line, you did it.

No, those weren’t tears in your eyes… it was just dusty in the bullpen, that was all. You could feel him everywhere. You knew this was where he lived and breathed and worked for so much of his life. Your mom never understood how you ended up being so understanding about never seeing him, while your brother spent so much of your lives incredibly bitter and angry at him for “abandoning” you both. You always told Stephen that dad spent every minute of every day trying to make the world a safer place for the two of you to grow up in. And now you could finally continue his life’s work.

You caught a few pairs of eyes looking at you when you entered the bullpen for the first time, walking through like you’d been there a million times before- because in your imagination, your dreams, you had. Dad was always so descriptive with his words, and it was never hard to get lost in his stories.

You walked right to the Unit Chief’s office, knowing that Agent Hotchner was already in there waiting for you. You were supposed to have your first meeting on Monday, but when the team didn’t get back in time from their last case- a strangler in Minnesota, he had called you and you rescheduled to accommodate those dang annoying serial killers. Now it was Wednesday, and you could feel the tired energy in the room. It was filled with the sounds of scribbling pens and pencils on paper, the groans and squeaks of chairs as everyone tried to stay comfortable while doing their paperwork. You spotted a few very attractive people around you, but tried to keep your eyes forward as you headed for your destination.

After knocking on the door, you heard a shuffling of papers as a low, gritty voice welcomed you, “Come on in.”

“Hello, Agent Hotchner. Nice to see you again.” You offered your hand, which he took with his baseball mitt sized one. It was rough and strong, and reminded you of your fathers when you were young. You could tell these hands had seen a lot of conflict.

“Y/N , you’ve grown up a lot since last I saw you.” He had a kind smile on his face, which surprised you, even after all this time. Aaron Hotchner was always such a serious man, even when you were younger. “And please, call me Aaron. You know that.”

You chuckled in response. “I know, but it feels weird to call you that now that you’re my boss.”

“Hotch will do then. Morgan will give you quite a hard time if he hears you calling me ‘Agent Hotchner’, I can promise you that. Sit, sit. Let’s get through all the necessary annoyances so I can properly introduce you to your new team.”

After all of the finalized paperwork and introductory nuisances, Hotch finally stood up, indicating it was time to enter the bullpen again, but with a promise of introductions to your new team. You felt a small pang in your heart. You wished your dad could have been here to do this instead of Aaron. He took notice of your second of discomfort- something you were sure to get used to quickly working with profilers.

“Y/N, he’s here… in you. I know how proud he would be of you.” He said to you with a hand falling to your shoulder.

With a smile, you accepted the comfort, turning to look at him again. “Would you mind… could we see Uncle Dave first? I think it would make me feel a little better to have him next to me for this.” That damn dust was at it again. You were fine, really. You’d been preparing for this emotion for months now- there was nothing to surprise you.

With a gentle smile, Aaron- no, Hotch, you remembered- nodded. “Of course. Follow me to his office.” It didn’t escape your notice that, as you followed him, you were on your way to your dad’s old office. Each step brought you to a place you’d heard about, thought about, dreamt about, but had never seen. But when you walked in behind Hotch, you knew this was nothing like your father would have kept it. It just screamed Rossi.

“Y/n! If it isn’t the smartest and brightest star from the Academy, falling right here into our laps at the BAU!” Dave cheered as he saw you, shooting up from his chair and almost running to you, pulling you into his arms while Hotch closed the door to offer you all some privacy.

“Uncle Dave, you can’t believe how amazing it is to have you here on my first day.” You said into his shoulder, holding him close. He was always such a big supporter of your career- there every step of the way whenever your dad couldn’t be. You always said that you were lucky- god blessed you with a loving, mildly helicopter mother, and two superhero dads so fight all the monsters for you.

“You’re gonna be great, kid. Unless your academy grades and reputation were all a lie to get you out of their hair!” He laughed, low and warm.

You giggled, pulling back from him and punching him lightly in the arm. “Rude.” You took a deep breath, and both men noticed that you were preparing yourself to say something important. “Aaron, Uncle Dave... I made it here on my own, with my mother’s maiden name and no one knowing who my father is. I am so proud to be the daughter of Jason Gideon, and I miss him every day… but I think I want to keep my birth last name a secret for now, if you’re both okay with that. They legally changed my name when I was a baby, and while I would be so proud to have his last name again, I’m- just not ready to hold up his legacy just yet.” You explained to them, hoping they understood. Your parents had decided very early on that they didn’t want you to have the last name Gideon. It was just- too dangerous. Your father had put away too many bad people, especially people that preyed upon little girls, to risk your life that way. So while you thought of yourself as Y/N Gideon in your mind, you’d never said it out loud before. Not once.

“Of course, kiddo. Whatever you want, we’ll follow your lead. Hopefully Garcia can’t find anything with your last name, but we’ll have Kevin keep an eye on her search history in case she finds anything. But if you’re worried about anyone finding out, I would tell her and promise her to secrecy though. Because if super tech genius finds out before you tell her… everyone will know.” He explained, and you laughed. You’d heard about Garcia. Your dad used to drive her crazy. You considered Rossi’s advice and nodded, understanding and deciding to think on it.

“Ready?” Hotch said after a moment, gesturing to the bullpen, where you could see several people grouped up at a desk, staring into Rossi’s office with curiosity and perhaps a little bit of uncertainty.

“As I’ll ever be.” Rossi squeezed your hand and you smiled at him, a big toothy smile shining back at you. With two men you knew you’d already trust your life with by your side, you walked out of the room knowing that these people who you already knew so much about would soon also hold your life in their hands. “Team, I’d like to introduce you to the new member of our team, Y/N L/N. She’s transferred in with top marks from the Academy, and she’s been highly recommended by all of her professors.”

You blushed at his compliments, rolling your eyes at him. “I didn’t have the highest marks in ALL of my classes. Shooting targets took me a while.” You smile, waving at the team awkwardly. “Hi everyone, it’s an honor to be here with you. I’ve heard so much about all of you. You’re all pretty famous around the bureau. I can’t wait to meet you all and get to know you as my team instead of people I’ve been idolizing for 10 years!”

Everyone laughed, and a tall, dark and handsome man walked forward with a giant grin on his face. “Hey, Y/N, I’m Derek Morgan. You are welcome to continue to idolize me as much as you’d like.” You could have snorted, he was so much like your dad described.

“Nice to meet you, Agent Morgan.” You said with a mildly flirty smile, holding your hand out to him happily. No worries for you, you were definitely going to like your job if you had him to look at all the time.

“That’s enough touching for now, little newbie,” a big beautiful blonde said from behind him. “That is my man-candy you’re ogling and groping, thank you very much.” There was no venom to her words, just something that you could only describe as adorable teasing. She was so colorful, it was almost as if there was a light shining around her. She was just a glowing ball of sunshine… You knew you’d be fast friends with her. “I’m Penelope Garcia, resident tech Goddess and most loyal beck and call gal.”

You took her hand and shook it, before doing a slight curtsy, earning you a giggle. “An honor to meet you, Tech Goddess Garcia.”

“Ignore her, they’re perfect for each other because of their over inflated egos.” You heard a blazé voice coming from the other side of Derek Morgan. “He’s eye candy for us all, much to her dismay. She’s never been one for sharing. I’m Emily, one of the few normal ones here.”

“Normal, pfft. She’s far from normal. You should hear her talk about her cat. Jenniffer Jareau, but my friends call me JJ.”

You took both of their hands in firm handshakes, grinning at them both. “Nice to meet you, and thank you for the permission to ogle, Agents. As far as normal, I sure hope not. Normal is vastly overrated.” You grinned at them. Damn they were cute. Was this whole team models who decided to become do-gooders and join the FBI?

“Halloweentown, 1998, said by Debbie Reynolds.” A small voice in the back of the group piped in, confident in words and speed, but somehow… demure and shrouded in uncertainty, too. The team parted so you two could see each other, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a few seconds. In front of you was the prettiest, most adorable, hottest guy you’d ever seen. He had a sexy professor thing going on, but simultaneously looked like he was an anxious teenager, terrified of being bullied by this newcomer.

You longed to hold him and protect this stranger from the rest of the world and heal any wounds he had succumbed to in the time before you. He was staring at you too, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, pupils a little bigger than you can only assume they would normally be. After a snicker broke you both from the weird moment, pretty boy smiled a little and gave an awkward wave. “Hi. Doctor Spencer Reid.”

Oh. God. Your heart stopped a second time, and you swore, this is what a stroke felt like. You’d heard about Spencer for the last ten years. Your father loved him almost as much as he loved you and your brother. Maybe even more sometimes. The BAU resident genius, IQ of 187, eidetic memory, born in Las Vegas and wasn’t allowed in most casinos due to his card counting ability. Ability to empathize and love in a beautiful and incredible way- your father adored him, and because of how he spoke of him, you… you’d always had a crush on this faceless idea in your head with his wild mop of hair and tall, lanky frame. You had a general picture from all these years, but nothing had prepared you for this.

“H-Hi. I’m Y/N. N-Nice to meet you.” You said, trying your hardest not to sound like a little school girl with a crush on her teacher. You’d just met the man, for god sakes. You heard another snicker, and this time you knew it was from Morgan just from the proximity of the sound and the testosterone you could feel from the gesture. You tried to ignore your flaming red cheeks, and held out a hand a second before remembering that he hated being touched by strangers. A big germaphobe, always calculating the risk of what contact could mean for him. But before you had a chance to pull away, he reached out and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. You must have looked as shocked as you felt, but no one else noticed because everyone was staring at Reid with the same expression you were wearing. And to be honest, he looked just as surprised, if not more so.

Garcia made a breathy squeak sound, and somehow, that broke the tension of the moment, and you and Reid pulled away at the same time, both looking like you’d just been shocked by electricity. You stretched your hand out, staring at it, feeling on edge all over again, thinking about how good his hand felt in yours, and how good it would probably feel other pla-

“Well, I hope you all will be on your best behaviors, and treat Y/N like you would want to be treated as a newcomer in a team like ours, seeing what we see.” Hotch finally broke the silence. “Y/N, if you have any problems, come find myself or Rossi and we’ll help sort them all out.” Nodding, you looked at him and smiled, suddenly very embarrassed that your boss and your uncle just witnessed all of that. As profilers, they were going to come to so many conclusions, and each was more embarrassing than the last.

“Pretty boy and pretty girl, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-” You heard Derek sing-songing and he walked away, looking like the cat who got the cream. He was interrupted only when Emily punched him quite hard in the arm, looking at you with a wink and a smirk as she headed back to her desk as well. You tried to avoid looking at the genius again, but it was… difficult to say the least. You wanted to memorize everything about him. You wanted to pick his brain and listen to every fact he’d ever memorized. You wanted to experience him in all the ways your father had gotten to and more.

You watched as the team dissipated and then your eyebrows furrowed. “Rossi?” You asked, stopping him in his tracks as he was headed back to his office. “Where’s my desk?” He looked over his shoulder at you and you could tell he was holding back a shit eating grin as he pointed with his thumb to the desk directly across from Reid.

Fuck. You both looked at each other… or well, you looked at him, and he looked away like he’d been caught doing something and sat down, looking at his paperwork blankly. As you headed to your new desk, you’d give anything to know what was happening inside that massive brain of his.

Staring at your empty desk, you imagined what you could put there. Pictures of your family, pictures of your friends and your cats… One day you would put up a picture of your father… one day. For now, you grabbed your briefcase from your side and opened it up. You started unpacking some of your first day necessities; pens and notebooks, little toys and bright objects to remind yourself that there is good in the world. Your pile of books out; you always kept at least ten books on you at all times. One for every kind of mood you could be in- and at least three that you hadn’t read yet and were planning on.

As you prepped your desk, you could feel those eyes on you, analyzing your every move. You wanted to look up and see if you could find what he was figuring out within those eyes, but you tried to keep busy so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself again.

“Another book nerd, I see.” You heard that deep, caramelly sweet voice behind you. Derek sat on your desk right next to you and smiled a toothy smile at you. “Pretty girl likes to read, huh?”

Smiling at him, you raised a brow. “Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” You were about to quote the originator, but someone else beat you to it.

“Malorie Blackman. British children’s literature writer and science fiction author.” Your head snapped to the person in front of you, who wasn’t looking at either of you.

Smiling at him, you nodded, and then turned to Morgan. “Yup, Malorie Blackman. Empathy is a huge part of the job, right? Reading allows us to experience a million different perspectives- which, as proflers, is necessary to catch the bad guys. I read so I can try to understand as many perspectives in this world as possible.”

Derek looked a little impressed, at least, and you couldn’t get a read on the gorgeous mop of brown hair on the desk across from you. Derek picked up one of the books still on your desk, not organized in your little library yet. “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings?” He comments, and you catch Spencer’s eyes flick up at the title, curious.

“It’s my favorite. Not only do I love birds, but I’m a very big Maya Angelou fan. I’ve… always kind of felt like a bird stuck in a cage. Flitting about, trying to figure out what to do with my life and who I am... No book has ever made me feel more seen or understood as a human being.” You caught those big, interested eyes and you almost felt like you might have shared too much. You’ve always been an open book, but somehow, the way he was looking at you made you feel more vulnerable than you had… ever.

Derek nodded and smiled, putting the book down on your desk. “Well, lady genius, I’m going to try and get everyone to get together tonight for drinks, would you be interested in getting to know us in a more fun environment, or would you rather just go to the library with Pretty Boy over here and nerd out together?” He teased, making both of you blush.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve spent all of the years of my adulthood studying and sleeping and working to get here, so I haven’t really… spent a lot of time at bars?” Admitting that wasn’t the best feeling, but better to be honest than try to make up a lame excuse.

“Do I hear we have a light weight to peer pressure?” Derek said, loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone else. JJ and Emily looked enthused, and Rossi poked his head out of his office to chime in.

“Someone’s convincing Miss nose in a book Y/N to go out for drinks tonight? I’m in and I’m buying!” That was met with an uproarious approval from everyone on the team, with the exception of Reid, who was just looking at you, seemingly waiting on you to decide.

You bit your lip, noticing how Reid’s eyes fell to your lips in reaction. Well… if you could spend more time with the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen looking at you like that more… “Well… I guess. Sure. Sure, okay, I’m in.” You finally agreed, everyone whooping and hollering in celebration at you giving in. “Doctor Reid? What about you?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, and you could swear you saw his eyes dilate more.

“Oh, pretty boy barely ever comes out drinking with us anymore. He’s always holing himself up in his apartment- books from floor to ceiling, books in the fridge, freezer, on the bed, in his drawers and closets…” Derek teased, reaching over to Spencer and ruffling his hair.

Reid looked at Morgan and shoved his hand away and tried to fix his hair, rolling his eyes. “I do not have books in my freezer. That would be a terrible spot to put them, it would completely ruin the delicate spines.” You smiled at him in support, and he sat up a little straighter. “I… I’m in. For tonight.” He looked right at you when he said it, and you couldn't help but feel a little flutter in your stomach at the idea that he was going just to get to know you.

Morgan seemed to be thinking the same thing, and the face he gave Reid as he stood up and sauntered away said more than he needed to outloud. Once Reid looked away from Morgan, your eyes met and you both smiled again. “You’re a fan of Maya Angelou?” He asked, nodding towards your book.

“I am. I was always drawn to books that had birds on the covers, but then I actually read it and realized how beautiful it is on the inside.” You held the book in your hands gently. It was a mutual love, one your shared with your dad.

“The number of bird species in a person’s surroundings correlates directly to happiness levels.” He said, smiling at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world. The attention should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you feel warm… important.

“Really?” You searched his eyes, wondering how much information was in that brain, stacked away for use when necessary. “That’s so interesting. I thought most people found birds annoying because of all the noise.”

He shook his head. “On the surface, they think it’s annoying, but once one becomes used to the sounds all around them, they find the background noise comforting. Most people find absolute silence much more disconcerting.”

“Absolute silence, for sure. But comfortable silence between two people who find solace in each other… I think that’s my favorite background noise.” He looked at you as you spoke, a small bit of hope flickering in both of your faces. You’d felt… alone, since your fathers spirit left this world months ago. It had been so hard to be at school and unable to go to his services, terrified of people finding out who your father was and that information altering your career. You hadn’t even applied to the bureau until you had your recommendation letters in order- you didn’t want Aaron giving you any false starts just because he knew. You liked to visit his grave once a month and tell him all the things you wrote in your letters to him. You carried around his private notebook as a reminder of the people in the world he saved, the people you wanted to save. You clutched your briefcase close, knowing you couldn’t put it in your desk with Reid watching you so closely. You’d find time to slip it in later, when no one was looking. With that eidetic memory, you knew he’d recognize it immediately, and you didn’t want his curious gaze to ruin your secret just yet. You wanted the team to form their own opinions of you before they knew... because the moment they knew, everything would change.

Next chapter

[dameronology]

welcome to the jungle {frankie morales}

summary: after taking a job with the delta guys, you cross paths with frankie morales. even though you’re at each other’s throats at first, it proves to be the start of something beautiful.  (for @what-the--curtains​ - i hope you enjoy!!) - 7k words

warnings: swearing, mentions of ptsd

this is kinda ambiguous in terms of the timeline of the film but i sort of hint to the first half being before the events of t.f and the second half being after -- with that said, you can take it as you would like :D

- jazz

Your brother had dog sat for a few days.

In exchange, you were flying out to Colombia in the middle of your work week. 

You believed in favours, but these two did not feel like they were equal. 

Still, you were a person of your word - and getting to fly to South America was exciting. The job itself was exciting, if not a little...eyebrow raising. His friend, an ex-Delta soldier, needed somebody to ID a body. That part didn’t bother you - you were a forensic archaeologist after all and it was quite literally your job description. The suspicious bit was the circumstances under which you were doing it; Santiago Garcia hadn’t been entirely clear on the phone, but he’d said something about witnesses and getting the government off of our backs. You’d met Santiago a few times and you knew what kind of work he did - military stuff. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was probably an under-the-radar kind of affair. But, you’d never been one to back down from a challenge. 

So, here you were on a warm Colombian Tuesday afternoon, suitcase trailing behind you as you trekked towards a dusty old air base. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on your back in a way that had initially been comforting, but was now just plain annoying. You didn’t know how long you were going to be here, but packing three jackets now felt like a stupid idea. The one one you’d worn on the plane over had been long discarded and tied around your waist, which only added to the struggle of dragging your case up the steep, sandy hill. In the distance, you could see an ATC tower glinting under the sun - the streams of light bounced right back off of it, causing you to shield your eyes with your forearm. The taxi you’d gotten from the international airport - not like this sandy little place - had only taken you so far. At least, of all things, the boots you’d opted to wear were built for this kind of thing. 

A few hundred meters up the road, you finally saw another sign of human life. A 4x4 was parked outside the abandoned terminal entrance, three men leaning against the side of it. You spotted Santiago standing a few metres away on his phone, thumbs tapping away. He didn’t look any different to the last time you saw him; dark and curly hair, a semi-friendly smile and stubble littering his chin. You hadn’t seen him since your brother’s birthday party a few months ago. 

‘Hey!’ The former soldier offered you a grin when he saw you, holding his arms open. ‘Long time, no see!’

‘Hey, Santi!’ You replied, giving him a pat on the back as he pulled you into a hug. ‘And yeah, it’s been a while. Then again, when was the last time you were in the country for more than five minutes?’

‘I’m in high demand.’ He shot back. 

Pulling back from the embrace, Santi pointed to his colleagues. There was Will and Benny, two blonde boys, both in military gear. It didn’t take much to figure out that they were brothers; same smirk, same stance, same eyes. Even if Santi hadn’t pointed it out, you would have figured as much. You were naturally deductive - came with the job. After the brothers, there was Frankie. He had dark eyes and hair, the latter of which was covered by his hat. Unlike the other three, he was wearing more casual clothes, just with a tac vest over the top. You kind of got the vibe that he didn’t want to be there - that was...comforting. 

‘What’s all this?’ Frankie asked, gesturing to the heavy metal suitcase behind you. 

‘Just...stuff. Tools.’ You replied. ‘Things I need to do my job, I guess.’

‘How heavy is it?’ 

‘Light enough that I was able to get them onto a commercial flight?’ You offered. 

‘The plane is already at max weight.’ He replied, brown eyes flickering up to meet yours. 

‘God, give ‘em a break, Fish!’ Santi slapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’ll be fine.’

‘Remember last time you said it would be fine-’

‘- hey.’ He cut him off with a harsh look. ‘We don’t talk about that.’

‘So I can bring them?’ You raised your eyebrows. ‘Because I can’t do whatever it is you need to do unless I have them.’

‘Yeah, it’ll be fine.’ Santiago gave you a comforting smile. ‘Let’s head to the jet and we’ll talk about the job.’ 

Swinging your duffle bag back over your shoulder, you picked up your suitcase and began to follow the guys further up the hill. There wasn’t anybody else around -- just sand, sun and rusting old jets. There was one in particular that they seemed to be headed towards. It was only mildly less eroded than the damaged ones around you, but the engines were running and the cargo doors were open. Santiago took your bag from your hands as you approached it, tossing it in with the other luggage. 

‘Do not throw that one, Garcia!’ You demanded, flinching slightly as he took your suitcase. 

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ He shot back. 

‘Sure thing.’ You rolled your eyes at him. ‘You brought a medkit right?’

‘No. Why?’

‘There’s one in my duffle bag.’ You replied. ‘Side pocket. Can you grab it?’

‘We don’t need one, we’ll be fine-’

‘- Santiago Garcia, do you want me to report back to my brother that you took his baby sibling on a jungle-wide expedition without the correct medical supplies?’ You challenged. 

Santi swallowed, mind briefly flashing back to the time he’d almost been decked by said brother for letting you walk home alone. ‘Fine.’

Your triumphant smile only lasted a split second; as soon as your eyes fell on the plane, you realised you still had to get on it. Fuck. 

The engines seemed to be working fine, but it was just...old. And eroding. And making a funny sound. You were by no means an engineer, but even just binging a few episodes of Air Crash Investigations made you feel qualified enough to know that this was not where it was at in terms of air safety. You could have taken it up with Frankie, but he didn’t seem entirely approachable. 

You did trust Santi, however - though sometimes that seemed a little against your better judgement. Every crazy story that your brother had relayed back to you from their time in the military involved him making questionable decisions. Hopefully, opting to fly this hunk of metal wouldn’t be one of them. Here’s to hoping it was aerodynamic. 

‘Are you getting in or…’ Frankie peered down at you from the stairs, eyebrows raised. 

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘This thing is safe, right?’

‘What’s it to you?’

‘What is it to me?’ You snorted. ‘Just, y’know, that I’m about to fly a few hundred thousand feet in the air and if it falls out of the sky I’ll die.’

‘I know what I’m doing.’ Frankie shut the door behind you as you climbed aboard, twisting the handle shut. ‘I’ve been flying for years.’

‘I’m not saying it’s you.’ You brushed past him, shoulders bumping as you did. ‘Captain fucking Sully couldn’t fly this thing.’

‘The guy from Monster’s Inc?’ 

‘No, the guy who landed the plane on the Hudson? They made a movie about it, with Tom Hanks-’

‘- you should sit down now.’ Frankie turned away from you. ‘We’re about to take off.’

Your mouth fell open in slight disbelief. What an asshole. 

Santi called your name, signalling for you to sit with him in the cockpit. The seats on the plane hardly looked comfortable, and your brain was mentally working out if it was safer to sit over the wing in a crash, or by the tail. You’d definitely seen it in a documentary once, but you couldn’t remember exactly what they said. Perhaps the best option was to just be less dramatic. 

Taking a seat between Frankie and Santi, you pulled your seatbelt on and shuffled awkwardly. This was fine. Absolutely fine. Frankie was a trained pilot (and a dickhead, but that didn’t take away from his flying skills) and you were going to be fine. Fiiiiine. Maybe if you said it once more, you’d believe yourself. You were going to be fine. Yeah, there we go. 

A few deep breaths and you were certain. Or, at least you’d convinced yourself to be certain. 

‘So.’ Your eyes momentarily flicked over to where Frankie was adjusting some controls. ‘What exactly am I doing here?’

‘A few months ago, the boys and I were involved in the shoot-out.’ Santi began. ‘Pretty standard for the type of operation we were on.’

‘Right. Standard office work.’ You muttered. ‘Do go on.’

‘We thought everyone who had witnessed it had been recorded.’ He continued. ‘And everyone who we spoke to verified that it was a justified shootout. No dirty work, no ulterior motive. All valid, from a legal perspective.’

You thinned your eyes. ‘I don’t think I like where this is going.’

‘We ID’d all the bodies at the time.’ He said. ‘Including a Ricky Martinez. Except now, a guy claiming to also be Ricky Martinez has come forward, claiming that his version of events is a little different. Like, different enough to incriminate us.’

‘He’s lying, right? You guys were the good ones?’ You urged. Santiago’s silence was anything but comforting. ‘Right?’

‘Morals are all a matter of perspective.’ He replied. ‘Our labs ID’d Martinez’ body twice but we need a third party opinion before we can completely dispel the guy pretending to be him.’

‘Guess that’s where I come in?’ You asked, leaning further back into the seat as the jet began to move. 

‘Exactamente.’ Santi nodded. 

That didn’t sound too bad. Between excavating the grave, running tests and returning the body, it would take a few days tops. You could manage that. 

The jet began to pick up speed, making its ascent towards the runway. Frankie did look like he knew what he was doing -- heck, the man looked bored, even.  He barely even had to look at the dash controls as it moved forward, hands moving freely and easily to manoeuvre the plane down the runway. 

‘What are you staring at?’ Frankie glanced over at you. 

‘N-nothing.’ You replied.  ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on the road-’

‘- that’s a runway.’ He cut you off. 

‘Whatever.’

You were thrown backwards in your chair from the momentum of the take off. The plane angled upwards as it went up in the air, tilting sideways as it balanced out. You felt your stomach drop as the ground disappeared from beneath you, the push of the engines pulling you up higher into the sky. There was a clunk, signalling that the landing gear had retracted. 

Well, the plane had fulfilled its first purpose: taking off. That was a good sign. 

‘So,’ Benny peered over at you. ‘What’s your callsign gonna be?’

‘My name, presumably.’ You quirked a brow at him. 

‘We have Ironhead, Catfish and Pope.’ He continued. ‘But Will and I were talking, and we thought Barbie was gonna fit well.’ 

‘Oh, really?’ You sniffed. ‘And why might that be?’

‘Because you’re young, and pretty hot-’

‘- so your call sign is Benny, right?’ You cut him off. ‘Short for Benjamin? That’s really clever. Did you come up with it yourself?’

‘Maybe Eye Candy will be beter-’

Benny was cut off when you reached across, leaning over Santi to smack him in the chest with your balled up fist. All four of them jumped in surprise at your action - clearly, you weren’t somebody to be fucked with. You hadn’t worked your ass for years to get your degree to get discredited like that. 

‘Make a comment like that again and I’ll drop kick your ass out of this plane.’ You jabbed your finger towards him. 

Benny thinned his eyes at you. ‘Frankie wouldn’t let you do that. Right, Cat?’

‘You heard ‘em.’ Frankie’s eyes didn’t move from the clouds ahead. 

--

To give credit where credit was due, Frankie was good at landing planes. 

Specifically, he was good at landing planes in places where planes should not have been landed. Not that he’d had much of a choice when the engines gave in half way through the journey, a couple hundred miles over the thick Colombian jungle. 

In short, you’d been right the entire time. The damn thing wasn’t safe. Of course, you weren’t going to say I told you so right then, since it felt like a little bit of a sensitive subject. 

Now, the five of you were standing next to a pile of what-used-to-be-a-plane, defeat plastered over every one of your individual faces. You were lucky to all have made it out okay - just about. Santiago had taken a hit to the head, Benny had bitten his tongue pretty hard when you’d collided with the ground (fitting) and Frankie had split his head open. You and Will were the only ones who hadn’t sustained any injuries. He had proven to be much more tolerable than his brother. 

‘Okay, we just gotta…’ you looked around, eyes taking in the debris around you. ‘We just gotta stay calm-’

‘- stay calm?’ Frankie cut you off. ‘You’re the reason the fucking thing went down! If you hadn’t taken all that extra weight-’

‘- do you ever shut up, Morales?’ You snapped. ‘And I’m no genius but I don’t think the engines catching fire was anything to do with me bringing an extra bag onto the plane!’

‘I’m the pilot.’ He reminded you. ‘I know what I’m talking about.’

‘Maybe it was the weight of your ego that made it go down.’ You chided. 

‘Hey - Patrick, Spongebob!’ Will finally yelled. Both your heads snapped in his direction, eyes wide. ‘Can you keep it in your pants for two minutes so we can work out how to make it through the night?’

‘Right, sorry.’ You nodded. 

You glanced around the crash site, brain calculating for a minute as you took in what little was left. The plan had landed on its belly and skidded for a few hundred metres; consequently, most of the luggage had come out on the way. That left you with the one remaining bag, the medkit you’d scared Santi into bringing and the strewn camping kit that had been ditched in the back of the fuselage. 

Pulling your phone out your pocket, you sighed when you realised that you had no signal. What had you expected? Four bars in the middle of the jungle? Probably not realistic. You did, however, have a compass app. That was something. You thought for a moment, glancing between the app and the sun’s position in the sky. It was splintering through the trees, washing heat over you like a bucket of cold water. There was a small stream a few metres away, which was a source of water at least. 

‘It’s just gone four, maybe five in the afternoon.’ You announced. ‘So we have about three hours till the sun starts to set. The water in the stream runs that way so if we follow it, we’ll find the source. People are more likely to set up civilization around a source of water.’ 

All four of them looked at you like kids who had lost their parents in Walmart.  Were they really ex-military? 

‘So, what?’ Benny frowned. ‘We...set up a new civilisation?’

‘Oh my days.’ You muttered under your breath. ‘I am spoon-feeding this to you! It means that there will be a town with people.’ 

‘That’s smart.’ Santi nodded. 

‘But before we do that, we gotta sort this out. Will, d’you know how to check for concussion?’ You asked, to which he nodded. ‘Okay, you check Santi and I’ll clean up Frankie’s head. Then we gotta gather those camping supplies and head east. Best case scenario, we find a town before sundown. Worst case scenario, we camp out for the night.’

‘Who put you in charge?’ Frankie asked.

‘Me.’ You replied. 

Taking the medkit from Santi’s hands, you quietly thanked him and led Frankie over to some rocks. He didn’t seem all that pleased when you forced him to sit on one - and he was even less pleased when you pulled his hat off. It revealed a tangle of dark curls, some of which you had to push back to get to the mark on his head. Some may have debated the importance of mentioning such a detail, but you couldn’t help but notice how soft his hair was. 

You knelt down in front of him, pulling the supplies out of the little medical kit. There weren't many, but there was enough to give him something temporary till you got to a proper hospital. If you got a proper hospital. 

‘It’s not too deep.’ You observed, running your thumb over the creases of his forehead. ‘Just a couple stitches at worst.’

‘Don’t you normally stitch up bodies?’ Frankie asked. His brown eyes were glued to the floor, following the outlines of the boot-prints that you’d left. 

‘Yeah, it’s the same kinda principle though.’ You laughed slightly. ‘Despite your attitude, I’m not gonna give you Y-incision stitches.’

‘Thanks.’

‘At least not in a place people can see them.’

Frankie snorted, but it translated to a hiss of pain as you dabbed an alcohol wipe at his forehead. Despite everything, you had a slight admiration for him. He’d managed to land the plane safely as the situation allowed and despite a few minor injuries, things could have been much worse. You didn’t quite feel like vocalising that to him when you were still stranded in the middle of the jungle, but if you ever got out? You might get Santi to pass the message on. 

‘D’ you think it’ll scar?’ Frankie quietly asked. 

‘Maybe.’ You admitted. ‘Just take a deep breath.’

‘Where did you even learn to do this stuff?’ He asked, letting out another small grunt of discomfort. ‘The stitches and the compass shit.’

You shrugged. ‘I’ve been around the block a few times. You kinda learn to be prepared.’

‘Really? As a morgue worker?’

‘Not a morgue worker.’ You grumbled. ‘Then again, I am stabbing a needle through your skin so I suppose I’ll allow the discrepancy.’ 

‘What is it you do then?’

‘I’m a forensic archaeologist.’ You explained. ‘So it’s my job to retrospectively work out how people died, whether it be because their body was found a long time after they died or because they had to be exhumed from their original resting place.’

Gently pulling the needle back from Frankie’s forehead, you cut the thread and dabbed it again with an alcohol wipe. You brushed his hair back down and placed his hat back on his head, offering him a smile. For the first time since you’d met him, he returned the gesture. 

You dusted off your knees and took a place on the rock beside Frankie, examining your handy work. Considering you’d been in a plane crash not quite an hour ago, it wasn’t too bad. At least if it did scar, it was in a place his hair covered up. And in your defense, scarring wasn’t usually something you had to worry about with your other...patients. They usually went back in the ground not long after you dealt with them. 

‘You’ll wanna sit down for a minute.’ You replied. ‘D’you feel dizzy at all? Sick?’

‘I was just in a plane crash.’

‘Me too, funnily enough.’ You rolled your eyes at him. ‘I s’pose it’s the most interesting job I’ve worked in a while.’

‘Same here.’ Frankie said. ‘I normally work for a flight school, so this is...something else.’

‘It’ll make me grateful when I get back to the office.’ You agreed. ‘Because it has four walls, air conditioner and co-workers who don’t give me ridiculous nicknames.’

‘Right.’ He snorted. ‘Benny can be...Benny. He doesn’t mean to be an asshole.’ 

‘Benny wasn’t the asshole.’ You quipped, nudging him with your elbow.

At least Frankie had proven now that he could talk to you without being insufferable. You couldn’t work out if you’d warmed to him or if he’d warmed to you, but doing somebody’s stitches was unarguably one hell of an icebreaker. He was just a little closed off; quiet and reserved, you figured. You didn’t know what him and the Delta guys had been through, but Santi had mentioned a few things in passing that pointed to a heavy past. That was something you could relate to - your job was no walk in the park either 

‘It’s not...personal.’ Frankie glanced off into the distance. 

Will had managed to salvage the remaining bag from the jet, meaning that Santiago could use it as a seat. Benny was sitting with them, talking amongst themselves. You would have to move soon, in order to find a suitable place to camp before sundown, but taking a minute to recover from the last hour was also important. You’d barely stopped to sit down since the plane had gone down, and now you had, the shock had hit you. Your suspicions about safety had actually been correct. Not that it mattered now, but at least you had a plan to get everyone back to civilization as soon as possible. 

‘So you being an ice cold bitch isn’t to do with me? That’s a relief.’ You joked. Frankie smiled in response; his first genuine one since you’d met. 

‘The witness that you were going to ID was from the last job we all worked together.’ He explained ‘It went bad. Really bad.’

‘From what Santi said, it sure did sound like it.’ You replied. 

‘I hadn’t seen anything as bad as we did then since I was stationed out in the war zones.’ He continued. ‘So being back here, and being with the guys, has just put me on edge. I’m sorry if I was an asshole.’

‘You don’t have to say sorry.’ You shook your head. ‘I mean...actually, yeah, you were an asshole but I get it.’

‘You do?’

‘Forensic archeology is no walk in the park either.’ You replied. ‘It’s my job to work out how people have died. Most of my work is on crime scenes or in war zones so I’ve seen some...dark stuff.’

‘It sticks with you.’ Frankie quietly murmured. 

‘Yeah, it does.’ You said. ‘I know you might not think it on the surface, because it’s the usual sort of job that leaves stuff weighing on your shoulders-’

‘- doesn’t matter.’ He cut you off. ‘Trauma is trauma. Regardless of how you got it or where it came from, it’s valid.’

You gave him a small smile. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. 

---

Later that night -- and after a few hours of walking -- you and the guys had settled down into a makeshift campsite. It was just at the edge of a clearing, not too far from what looked to be a small town glinting in the distance. You did offer to keep going, but between the injuries the group had sustained, it was easier to stop for the night. You had enough of a combined skillset to find some fruit growing to snack on and to start a fire.

Santiago, Will and Benny had long passed out. It wasn’t until after they had done so that you realised there was absolutely no room left in the tent. It was only built for two people, let alone five. Where that left you in terms of sleeping arrangements, you didn’t know, but the chances of even getting to rest felt low. Your brain was on full overdrive, tired eyes darting constantly around the distance. How safe was this place? You’d managed to convince yourself that the plane was secure, and that had gone down like...well, like the fucking plane. 

You were sitting on a log, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick. It was just something to keep your brain occupied as you fought off the tiredness. The jet-lag from your flight to Colombia had hit in full force and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into your bed -- the bed that wasn’t there. 

‘So, are you keeping a look-out?’ 

You jumped at the sound of Frankie’s voice, twisting around to face him. ‘Something like that.’

‘I can take over if you want.’ He offered. ‘You should get some rest. You’ve saved our asses like three times today.’

‘Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t fit into that tent.’ You replied. ‘I can hear them snoring from here.’

‘Is it worse than the alternative of me keeping you company?’ He softly smiled, taking a seat beside you. ‘I’ll promise not to be an asshole anymore.’

‘We spoke about this.’ You reminded him. ‘I get it. It’s okay.’

‘I still feel bad.’ He sighed. ‘Especially after you stitched me up and led us through the jungle. We woulda eaten something poisonous and died if you hadn’t stopped Benny going near those mushrooms.’

You chuckled. ‘Don’t feel bad, okay? You’ve had bad experiences before and it’s natural to be anxious.’

‘I shouldn’t have taken it out on you-’

‘- Frankie!’ You cut him off with a groan. ‘I’m about to be an asshole if you don’t stop saying sorry.’

‘So we’re good?’ 

‘We’re good.’ You smiled. ‘Thanks for keeping me company.’

‘Santiago, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that he would come for our kneecaps if we left you alone in the dark.’ Frankie admitted. ‘I think he likes you.’

You chuckled, shaking your head. ‘I think you have the wrong idea. Santi is only so protective of me because he’s one of my brother’s best friends, and I guess by extension, that kind of makes him my brother too. They go right back to high school, and then they did the academy together.’

‘That’s a long time.’ Frankie nodded. ‘So you and Santi, that’s...nothing, right?’

‘Absolutely not.’ You snorted derivatively. ‘And if it was, my brother would probably end him.’

‘So,’ He took a stick from the floor, joining in with random doodles you were carving into the ground. ‘Be honest: if these stitches scar, d’you think I’ll look rugged and handsome?’

You peered over at him, eyes creasing as your smile grew wider. ‘Sure. Why not?’

‘Ouch.’ He dramatically grabbed his heart, shaking his head. ‘The correct answer was no Frankie, you already look rugged and handsome.’

‘Okay, it would make you look more rugged and handsome.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘Better?’

‘Better.’ He grinned triumphantly. ‘When was the last time you stitched up a living, breathing human?’

‘College, I think.’ You replied. ‘My roommate got into a fight and didn’t have insurance, so I did some makeshift stitches with a cheap sewing kit we found at a 24/7 corner shop.’

‘We’ve all done it.’ He laughed. ‘I’m glad the stitches you gave me were actual, professional ones...right?’

‘Obviously!’ You exclaimed. ‘You’ll probably want to get them redone when we get back to...y’know, civilisation.’

‘Naturally.’ He nodded. ‘I appreciate you stitching me up. The others would not have been able to do that if it had been just us.’

You shrugged. ‘It’s nothing, really.’

‘What if - and feel free to blatantly reject me for my earlier actions - I took you out for a drink when we got back? Y’know, if we ever get back to civilisation.’

‘Yeah, okay.’ You smiled. 

Normally, Frankie wouldn’t have been that bold -- and you would have absolutely rejected someone who had made such a terrible first impression. But, said impression had changed. He’d been an asshole but you could see why; you could reason with it, even. God knew that you also had a tendency to become withdrawn and irritable when you were retracting back to the darker corners of your mind. Bad days on the job were hard to shake. They stuck with you for a long time. 

The conversation continued, though you couldn’t recall exactly what it was about. Nothing and everything. Growing up and going to college - or for Frankie, the military. You compared stories of Santiago; Frankie’s were better, but yours were pretty good. He told you about how he’d got his piloting license back, and you in return offered a tale of the time that your brother had gotten a DUI. 

Between the warmth of Frankie beside you and the crackling fire in front of you, it became harder and harder to fight off your exhaustion. You would have been tired enough if you were from this timezone, but your body clock was hours out of whack. With your eyelids getting heavier and the dark sky above you, it wasn’t long before you’d flopped into the pilot’s side with defeat. 

‘’M sorry.’ You murmured. 

‘It’s fine, you don’t have to apologise.’ Frankie replied. He moved his arm around your shoulders to support your weight from falling off the log - also to give a sign that he was more than okay with it. 

You rested your chin on his shoulder, peering up at him. Now that his cold facade had slipped away, you could admire him a little bit more. Warm chocolate eyes, a strong jawline, and a face that just felt kind, even despite initial impressions. The warm glow of the fire illuminated his face with a soft hue, making the lighter tones of his eyes a little more visible. 

You were both still lingering from the adrenaline of the plane crash, hearts pounding in your chests and brains wrestling with the idea that you’d both made it out with minor injuries. Was that what had made you bold? The sudden reminder of your mortality? Because you never would have kissed him if it had been a normal night.

He met you halfway, lips gently capturing yours in a soft kiss. They were a little chapped from the humidity of the jungle air, but intoxicating and enchanting all the same. He tasted very, very faintly of tobacco and a little bit of mint -- had the bastard had chewing gum this whole time? Not that it was relevant. Not that anything else in the world was relevant. Not when Frankie Morales was kissing you.

Neither of you said anything after; he simply pulled you into his chest, resting his head on top of yours. Between the mental exhaustion and emotional ping-pong game that you were partaking in, you wanted to sleep. 

And sleep, you did; tangled together on the dirt of the jungle floor, not a worry in the world. 

---

Time passed. 

It passed quickly and slowly all at once. 

Once you’d found a little town and got on a coach to Medellin, you did what you came to do: identified the body, cleared their names and closed the case. Your duties at your actual job called you back home and less than a day later, you were on a plane home. 

After that, everything was a blur. You tried to keep in contact with everyone, but life was demanding as ever. Thanks to a promotion at work, you were being kept busy 24/7. Santiago finally retired from active duty and moved back to your hometown, near to his parents and to the guys. Even with the group chat he’d made - affectionately titled Plane Pals - it was hard to constantly keep up with everyone. 

You and Frankie had texted for a while, but it sort of faded out. Whenever you were able to make it back home to see him and everyone else, he was busy. You’d both tried to make plans a few times but they’d never come to fruition. You still texted each other happy birthday every year, but that was it. Like that night in the jungle, he quickly became a thing of the past. A distant memory that sometimes felt like a dream. 

It made a good dinner table story, especially for first dates. You told it on many actually, actually -- only one ever went well. So well, in fact, that you’d ended up in a four-year-relationship. A marine biologist called Simon; not boring, but not necessarily exciting either. He was nice...enough. Nice enough that you didn’t find a reason to leave. 

Looking back, you probably had a million reasons to leave. He was an asshole, for one. The last time he’d treated you right had been your first anniversary - and for some reason, you’d stuck around to celebrate your second and third and fourth. Everyone around you was settling down, and you felt that pressure too. 

Even Santiago fucking Garcia, the biggest flirt and bachelor you knew, was getting married. You’d RSVP’d a plus one - Simon, obviously - but the week before you were due to fly home for the wedding, things had finally reached a bitter end. You weren’t sad about him; more sad that you’d wasted four years of your life on the Walmart equivalent to Ned Flanders. 

On the brightside, your brother’s respective relationship had also gone through a shitty demise, meaning you could move your seats at the reception next to one another. Like Santiago, he had also retired from the military and was living his best life - even though it had taken six months for him to start speaking to his friend again. He hadn’t taken well to the idea of Santiago taking you on a job that left you in the middle of the jungle. 

‘People are gonna ask where Simon is, aren’t they?’ You muttered. 

‘Cheer up.’ Your brother nudged you. ‘I know what’ll help - let’s make a bet.’

‘What?’ You groaned. 

You were standing outside the church, waiting to be called inside. You’d waved at Benny and Will as they came in. The latter had kids of his own now, but Benny was focusing on his boxing career. He hadn’t called you Barbie again though, so that was something. 

‘I bet you twenty bucks that Santiago is divorced by the end of the year.’ Your brother grinned. 

‘No! That’s horrible.’ You slapped his arm. 

‘Whatever. That’s $20 you’re missing out on.’

‘I hate that we’re related.’

‘Me too.’

‘Shut up!’

‘You said it first!’

The two of you were cut off by someone clearing their throats.

You almost did a double take when you saw Frankie Morales stood in front of you. He didn’t look that different to his six-year-old Whatsapp profile picture; he wasn’t wearing his hat, instead wearing his hair pushed back, and rather than his old tac vest, he had a suit and tie on. You had a sort of vision of him in your head from that night, but it didn’t do him justice. He was even better in person. 

‘Catfish!’ Your brother jeered. ‘Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!’ 

‘Says you!’ Frankie gave him a slap on the back. His eyes then fell to you, and his demeanour changed a little. ‘Hey.’

‘Frankie fucking Morales.’ You murmured. ‘How’re you?’

‘Thriving.’ He replied. ‘You?’

‘Also thriving.’ You smiled. 

‘I was sorry to hear about the divorce, man.’ Your brother, as clueless as ever, didn’t sense the sudden onset of tension. 

‘Divorce?’ You blinked in surprise. ‘Is that really something you should bring up-’

‘- you brought up your break up at dinner last week-’

‘- only because you brought up yours first-’

‘- guys!’ Frankie cut you off. ‘It’s fine, really. I appreciate you looking out for me but it was a while ago now. Besides, I’ve got Leya. She takes up all my time.’

‘Leya?’ your eyebrows shot up. ‘Is that your girl-’

You were interrupted by a bell ringing, signalling that it was time for the guests to enter the church. Did the universe hate you? What kind of fucking dreadful timing was that? 

‘I’ll see you guys at the reception, right?’ Frankie asked. 

‘Sure thing, dude.’ Your brother waved him off.

The pilot turned on his heel, giving you a smile as he headed for the church. He was the best man after all, and his presence probably was needed. 

‘You asshole!’ You have his shoulder another whack. ‘I was talking to him!’

‘Jesus, calm down! And why do you hit so hard?’ He huffed. ‘What’s so important?’

‘Who’s Leya?’

‘I dunno! Do I look like Gossip Girl?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You’re mean.’ He grabbed you by the arm, dragging you towards the church entrance. ‘And mum made me promise to make sure you wouldn’t play Doodle Jump during the vows.’

‘That was one time!’ You snapped. 

Thankfully, the actual ceremony passed quicker than you thought. Santiago’s new wife was beautiful -- you hadn’t met Yovanna before, but both her and Santi had greeted you with a bright smile as you entered the reception. It was in a large hotel room, decorated with strings of fairy lights and a large dance floor. A lot of thought had clearly got into it. 

It made you a little sad to think about. How many weddings had you been to in the last five years? How many times had people looked at you and your former boyfriend and said you’ll be next. You weren’t even sad about him. If anything, you were mad that you’d let yourself think about marrying him. You could do better. You were going to do better.

‘Is that girl over there eying me up?’ Your brother’s voice pulled you back to reality. ‘I swear she’s been giving me heart eyes since they brought dessert out.’

‘Which one?’

‘The one in the cute dress! Brown hair, dark eyes-’

‘- that’s Santi’s cousin.’ You rolled your eyes. 

‘And?’

‘Santi’s cousin who is a lesbian?’ You tried to suppress a laugh. ‘Who has been with her wife for 11 years and has three children?’

He groaned. ‘Why must you find such joy in my pain?’

‘It’s what siblings are for.’ You grinned. ‘I’m gonna get a drink. D’you want anything?’

He only let out another groan in response - you took that as a no, simply giving him a pat on the head as you stood up. 

You’d tried to ask around with a few mutual friends if they knew who Leya was -- either they hadn’t seen Frankie in a while, or they pushed to know why you were asking. You couldn’t exactly play that one as suave. Nobody took a casual interest in the personal life of somebody they barely knew -- even though you did know Frankie. Quite well, actually. He’d practically recounted his entire life story to you that night. Told you things that not even Santi knew. 

‘What can I get for you?’ The bartender asked. 

‘Uhhh…’ you glanced up at the menu. ‘Is it an open bar?’

‘If I had enough money for every time someone asked me that tonight, I’d be able to pay for all the drinks.’  She shot back. ‘So, no.’

‘Jeez.’ You muttered. ‘How much for a double rum?’

‘Fifteen bucks.’

‘Fifteen?!’ You spluttered. ‘How much is tap water?’

‘Y’know, I still owe you a drink.’

Like earlier, Frankie had suddenly appeared unannounced. You couldn’t help but grin when you saw him leaning against the bar beside you, a goofy smile plastered across his face and his undone tie wrapped around his left hand. Your eyes flickered up to his forehead, examining it for a minute. 

‘So the stitches didn’t scar?’ You asked. 

He pulled back his hair, shaking his head. ‘Nope.’ 

‘You lucky duck.’ You quipped. ‘So. About that drink?’

‘This shit is insanely overpriced.’ Frankie said. ‘I can steal us a bottle of wine if you’re willing to hide and drink it?

You glanced over at your brother, who was now crying to one of Santiago’s great aunts, piling cake into his mouth. 

‘Yeah. I’m down for that.’ 

--

Five minutes later, you and Frankie were out in the gardens of the hotel. It had been raining all day, but there was an undercover patio not too far from the main reception; the walls were made out of white wood, with red roses trailing up the side. The fairly lights tangled beside them illuminated the place in a gentle glow, blue evening sky providing a beautiful contrast. Even though the showers had stopped, you could still smell the rain in the fresh evening air. 

‘Wine?’ Frankie led you to a seat by the edge of the patio. ‘I stole it from the head table so it's the expensive shit.’

He tore the cork off, handing you the bottle. Neither of you had brought glasses, but you didn’t mind drinking from the same bottle. You’d kissed already - what was the point in formalities? 

‘I hate it to break it to you.’ You paused to wipe your mouth, recovering from the bitter taste. ‘But that’s champagne.’

‘Still alcohol, right?’ He took it from your hands, taking a swig. ‘And it’s free!’

‘You’re right.’ You chuckled. ‘So...I believe we have four years worth of catching up to do.’

‘D’you wanna go first?’ Frankie offered. ‘I heard you got a promotion.’

‘I did, yeah.’ You grinned. ‘It’s a thousand times more work but I get more control over what jobs I take, so that’s good.’

‘Anyone special in your life?’ He asked. 

‘Cut the shit, Frankie.’ You groaned. ‘I know that Santi updates you on every second of my life as it happens.’

‘You got me there. He mentioned a...Steven?’

‘A Simon.’ You corrected. ‘But Dickhead or Asshole works just as well.’

‘Damn, I’m sorry.’ Frankie gave your leg a light squeeze. ‘What happened?’

‘He didn’t deserve me and I stayed with him too long.’ You shrugged. ‘I didn’t think I had a reason to leave.’ 

‘Not having a reason to leave isn’t a reason to stay.’ He murmured. 

You didn’t know whether to bring up the D-Word. D-i-v-o-r-c-e. He hadn’t seemed that phase when your sibling had so eloquently and gently brought it up earlier, but you knew Frankie was good at putting on a front. It was why you’d clashed when you first met. 

‘Am I allowed to ask?’ You quietly said. 

‘It’s nothing bad.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean it is bad, terrible actually, but it was two years ago now. We only got married because she got pregnant and then left the minute our daughter was born.’

‘Leya.’ You didn’t mean to say the name out loud, but it made sense now. ‘Leya is your daughter.’

‘Yeah.’ Frankie warmly smiled. ‘I hate what happened but I’d do it all over again ten times if it meant having her in my life.’

He spent the next few minutes telling you about her. She was named Leya after a certain space princess, though Frankie had changed the spelling to make it less obvious (to which you had argued it was still quite obvious, but a cool name nonetheless). She was currently three years old, often got confused between Spanish and English words, and enjoyed Power Rangers. All in all, she sounded like a great kid. Above all, it was obvious how much she meant to Frankie. His whole face lit up when he spoke about her. Her mum was entirely out the picture, meaning he was doing the whole thing by himself. 

‘She sounds amazing.’ You beamed, peering down at the picture on his phone. ‘She looks so much like you.’

‘Thank God.’ Frankie murmured. ‘I dunno if it being a dad has made me more introspective, but I think about that night a lot.’

‘Me too.’ You replied. ‘Not the thing about being a dad. The other part.’

He laughed. ‘I got that.’

‘What do you think about?’

‘You, mostly.’ He admitted. ‘The fact I was an asshole. The fact you basically saved us all. The fact I never got to take you out for that drink.’

You took a swig of champagne, poking his arm. ‘We’re doing it now!’

‘I know.’ He grinned. ‘I just...I know it was only one night but we might not have been around to tell the story if you hadn't been there.’

‘You were the one who landed the plane safely.’

‘Which wouldn’t have mattered if you didn’t do all the stuff after.’ He reminded you. ‘The thing I think about most, though, is that kiss.’

You froze slightly, head slowly turning to look at him. He was peering down at you now, brown eyes intently gazing at you, not unlike they had the first time you’d been in this position. Now, you weren’t both beyond exhausted, or stuck in the middle of the jungle. You were safe and sound, right here with one another. 

‘It was a pretty good kiss.’ You edged slightly closer towards him. 

‘A very good kiss.’

‘Maybe we should do it-’

Frankie cut you off, meeting your demand before you could even finish it. He was just as you remembered; chapped-but-soft lips with a hint of mint. No tobacco this time. He gently placed a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you further up towards him. It was like you were both reliving the memory of that night in a dream - something you’d done many times. Your memory of it had faded over time but this? This was vivid and giddy and entirely consuming all at once. 

‘You know,’ Frankie pulled back for a moment, keeping his hand on the back of your neck and forehead pressed to yours. ‘I asked Santi about you a few years ago, pretty much the minute I realised I was ready to move on from...her.’ 

‘You did?’ You murmured. 

‘That’s when he said you’d been seeing Simon for a few weeks.’ He admitted. ‘I was gutted. Kept wishing I’d got there first.’

‘I wish you had got to me first.’ You lightly chuckled. ‘It would have saved me a lot of pain.’

‘If I were to ask out now, what would you say?’

‘Fuck yes, obviously.’

‘Good.’ He pressed a brief peck to your lips. ‘I admire the enthusiasm.’

That night - well, actually it had probably been the night in Colombia, depending on who you asked - marked the start of a fresh start for you both. What had initially started out as an attempt to seek solace in one another during a difficult time had led you to something more: something whole, something fulfilling. 

If someone had told you the first time you’d met Frankie Morales that the unfriendly pilot was going to become the best thing that ever happened to you, you probably would have slapped them. Or laughed, or cried, or all three. That night you met, you thought the emotions you were feeling were from the plane crash -- adrenaline and warmth and panic. 

As it would turn out, it was simply the feeling of knowing -- knowing that Frankie Morales was it.

[softluci]

atla hcs

i’ve been thinking about this for a minute, and i wanna do a set of headcanons for how i think the brothers (and eventually the undateables) would feel about certain avatar: the last airbender characters, or something along those lines. i actually just wanted to talk about lucifer and azula, so everything else here is a bonus. this doesn’t matter, but for what it’s worth: wherever the mc pops up, they will be gn, enjoy!

also: this kinda goes without saying, but there are most definitely spoilers in here. for which seasons? i don’t remember, i watched this show when i was nine, but proceed with caution if you have yet to watch it.

lucifer

if it’s one thing you are not gonna play with him about, it is princess azula. this man is an azula supremacist, and while he might not say those words exactly, anyone would be able to tell that’s the case if they talked to him about the show for longer than two minutes. he actually wasn’t even interested in the show until azula showed up, and he will readily admit this to anyone who inquires about it. what makes it funny is the fact that her first appearance is literally, like, ten seconds, so that means he saw her and immediately knew she was the best, which, like—real recognize real. is he projecting? am i projecting? yes, no. in that order. shut up.

he actually almost couldn’t hide how proud he was when azula almost killed aang, this man is deranged. the same way he takes her wins personally, he takes every loss of hers personally as well, so when she lost that agni kai? 🚶‍♂️ 

the average azula enjoyer believes azula should get a redemption arc, lucifer believes azula should simply get whatever she wants, and the difference between those two things is striking.

average azula enjoyer: i believe azula deserves to heal and redeem herself. it isn’t fair that she was left with her tyrannical, abusive father during formative years of her childhood, with no one to help her or show her what it means to be good. she cannot be blamed for the way she turned out. it especially isn’t fair that she gets no redemption for evil things she did at age fourteen, for a year, while the entire show is iroh’s redemption arc, and he was doing evil for decades—he is literally called “the dragon of the west” because of it. additionally—

lucifer morningstar, resident azula supremacist: everything azula did, she was right to do, because i would’ve done the same. there was never a point at which she was wrong, it’s just unfortunate that nobody could keep up with her, her father included. the only reason why she ended up losing, ultimately, is because this is a children’s show, and good is supposed to win out. it was plot armor. if this were realistic, she would’ve beaten everyone—at the very least, she would’ve beaten zuko in the final agni kai, it’s just that he broke the rules and brought backup. at the time of the agni kai, she was literally the strongest firebender in the show. that’s actually the only part of this lucifer is right about, but you can’t tell him that.

if you ask him what his favorite quote in the show is, he’ll immediately say, “i can see your whole history in your eyes. you were born with nothing, so you’ve had to struggle, and connive, and claw your way to power. but true power? the divine right to rule? is something you’re born with.” and he will do it so well that it’ll give you the chills. 

in actuality, his favorite quote is, “i’d really rather our family physician look after little zuzu, if you don’t mind.” it’s just that it doesn’t have the same chilling effect as the first one. 

does he like any other characters? does he even care about any other characters? he has a deep fondness for sokka because he reminds him of mammon.  yes, and they are katara and suki, with honorable mention to avatar kyoshi. 

does he hate any characters? no, but if you mention avatar kuruk or uncle iroh to him, he might get annoyed. is mildly frustrated by aang, but has the sense to cut him some slack for being twelve and the last of his kind. never speak of ozai.

mammon 

toph supremacist. frequent user of the phrase, “toph is just fucking class.” knows for a fact that toph is the best and strongest bender in the entire show, and no one has ever managed to convince him otherwise. mainly because nobody really disagrees. like, have you ever even seen toph slander?

just like lucifer with azula, he wasn’t invested in the show until toph showed up, which, once again, is funny, because technically her very first appearance is only a few seconds long, so that means he saw her for a literal second and just knew. you can’t even be mad at that, real recognize real. 

no one will ever see him more proud than when he’s talking about one toph beifong. he can’t get over her raw, unbridled talent, and he really never should. if you let him (so, if you’re levi), he will spend so much time analyzing her character and every single one of her strengths, from the fact that she’s the only one who knows when azula is lying, all the way down to the fact that even though she projects a tough persona, she can still be vulnerable, AND—

not only is she strong, but her personality is simply untouchable. this girl grows on literally everyone; like, even lucifer likes her, even though he’ll die before saying it out loud. 

he gets so smug whenever someone asks him who his favorite is and it’s because he knows his taste is top tier, and what makes it worse is that no one can even disagree because toph is just that good. 

will never admit it, but he was shaking and crying during the scene where it looked like toph and sokka were literally gonna die. was also gonna cry when toph almost drowned. basically: he is eternally grateful to suki. 

his favorite line in the entire show is, “i am the greatest earthbender in the world! don’t you two dunderheads ever forget it.” it’s just fucking class.

does he like any other characters? he sees himself in sokka, he’ll tell you that much. he also knows that satan and lucifer like sokka because of him, and he found out because he heard them talking about it. to their joint dismay, they turned to see him standing behind them, grinning like an idiot, and they couldn’t even scare him into leaving them alone when he hugged both of them at the same time because, one, they didn’t really want to, and two, they couldn’t turn off their fondness for him fast enough ^_^. did they reciprocate his hug? did they stay like that for a little bit? did lucifer kiss the tops of their heads? maybe so🤨

does he hate any characters? not really, but he doesn’t particularly like azula because she scares him and makes him sad, like lucifer and doesn’t see her appeal. once tried to make a case for why she shouldn’t have a redemption arc and felt painfully human from the way he almost died. do not mention toph’s parents to him. the name ozai should also never be on your tongue.

levi 

resident sokka enjoyer and suki appreciator. do not ever call sokka dumb in front of this man unless you want a proper lecture. unlike a few of his brothers, he doesn’t like sokka just because of his similarities to mammon. he also likes sokka because he relates to him on a personal level. 

levi absolutely knows what it’s like to feel inadequate and outshined by people younger than you. he absolutely knows what it’s like to feel like your competence is overlooked. while he might be unfamiliar with how it feels to strategize for a war and lose a battle, but it is one of his biggest fears and it absolutely crushed him to see sokka go through that. 

on a lighter note, levi has a deep appreciation for sokka’s comedic value, despite the fact that it can overshadow his intelligence. levi would actually venture to say that he likes sokka’s funnier side because it overshadows his intelligence to the point that it throws the opposition for a loop. this is the aspect of sokka that reminds him of mammon. 

it also seriously warmed his heart to see how everyone missed sokka while he was away for sword training; he especially liked that episode because it was just an affirmation of the fact that sokka is an integral part of team avatar, which he really needed to see. 

you know who else is an integral part of team avatar who needs to be recognized as such more often? suki. do you know how much pain levi is in every time he thinks about the lack of suki screentime . it’s a lot . suki is just too good for the amount of screentime she has, he’s sorry, but it’s true. this is evidenced by the scene of her literally running across prisoners’ heads to apprehend the warden of boiling rock. that scene speaks for itself—she and the other kyoshi warriors end up as zuko’s body guards for a reason. 

he will never let anyone forget that if it weren’t for suki, sokka would still be a misogynist. she was an essential element to sokka’s growth as a character and everyone had better remember it or so help him. also , he is a firm believer in the fact that suki was the best love interest for sokka, with zuko as a close second. don’t ask questions. rip yue but argue with the wall.

his favorite line in the series? 

“zuko’s gone crazy! i made a sand sculpture of suki, and he destroyed it! oh, and he’s attacking aang.” 

it’s not profound or cool or anything like that, but it makes him smile and giggle every time he thinks of it ^_^. 

does he like any other characters? he has a lot of love for toph and azula for the sole fact that the series improved exponentially after both of their introductions; he thinks both of them are in leagues of their own and seeing them in action just puts a smile on his face. he’s also inexplicably fond of king bumi. 

does he hate any characters? not particularly, actually! he pretty much respects and appreciates everyone, except the guy who mutilated his thirteen year old son for speaking out of turn.

satan 

just pick a girl. any girl. and from the way he talks about them, you’ll think they’re his favorite. he can and will go on about the girls of atla for the rest of eternity.

but since we’re being specific:

katara appreciator. azula enjoyer. basically, between him and lucifer, no tongue raised against azula shall prosper. he has a deep respect for each of their wraths. he also really must have a thing for angst because both of these characters just break his heart. 

if you let him (in other words, if you’re levi), he will go on about how it’s not fair that people call katara annoying when, in reality, she just hasn’t healed from the trauma of seeing her mother’s corpse at age eight, followed by having to take care of her village, meaning she got literally no time to grieve properly, and—

call katara annoying in front of him and you might actually have to meet god for your shallow views of such a deep, complex character. 

he will also go on and on about how katara would be the best bender in the show, if it weren’t for toph, who is untouchable. instead, he’ll talk about how katara almost killed pakku for being misogynistic and how she single handedly beat azula during sozin’s comet. you will frequently hear this man say, “katara aang’s master for a reason,” and he’s right. 

similar to if you call katara annoying, if you call azula scary in front of satan, he’s bullying you. he’s sorry, but it has to happen. no way you’re scared of a traumatized fourteen year old, what are you, eight? or do you have no understanding of azula’s depth? both are unacceptable. 

satan is the average azula enjoyer, times about seven. you simply won’t get away with speaking poorly of azula in front of this man, so if you’re like mammon and don’t like her, you better tread very carefully. 

one time mammon tried to be like, “azula is too far gone to deserve redemption anyways,” and satan literally reverted to his demon form as he said: “if i were abandoned with my terrible father as a child, with literally no one to help me, and then my friends betrayed me, and then, as i was about to be crowned ruler of my country, my dumb fucking idiot brother showed up with his dumb peasant friend for backup, which isn’t even allowed, i might be mad forever too, actually—” and then he threw the nearest chair at mammon for his criminally bad take.

another reason why satan loves azula so much is because he’s convinced she’s a lesbian and satan is the most “let’s go lesbians!!!” person you will ever meet. you actually can’t convince him that she isn’t a lesbian. forget chan. nobody gives a fuck about chan.

what’s his favorite line in the entire series? 

“trust me, zuko—it’s not going to be much of a match.” 

like, come on. katara is just too good. 

does he like any other characters (other than the girls of atla)? he’ll never admit it, but he has a lot of respect for sokka and a soft spot for him because he reminds him of mammon. he also has a lot of respect for aang because he reminds him of beel of how well he handled literally everything despite being twelve. 

does he hate any—yes. never speak of avatar roku. or iroh. or ozai. for good measure, don’t mention general zhao either. 

asmo 

what lucifer is to azula, asmo is to ty lee. like do i even have to say anything else. but for what it’s worth, he also love, love, loves azula because she reminds him of lucifer, from her strength and class, all the way down to her descent into madness. and even though she breaks his heart just as much as she does satan’s. he may or may not have cried over azula in satan’s room while they were talking about her. unlike lucifer and satan, he can respect it if you don’t like her, but it’ll make him so sad. 

but enough about azula. ty lee is where it’s at for him. her subtle strength and unwavering love is something to die for, and he will defend it against anyone, up to and including lucifer, and he’ll win too. asmo is not to be trifled with and neither is ty lee; he can make a strong argument as to why ty lee is the strongest character in the show, and you will have a very hard time trying to refute his points. (the main point being: it’ll be really hard to win a fight against someone who can paralyze you in a few seconds, bender or not.)

the fact that ty lee ran away from home because she was tired of the fact that nobody ever saw her as her own person is just something that tugs at asmo’s heartstrings. he thinks ty lee’s bravery is just something that can be so personal. 

also—he has a massive appreciation for the fact that, even though there’s a war going on and ty lee is in near-constant danger, she still has the sense to maintain her appearance and worry about the skincare of not just herself, but also people she’s close to. that is a detail he will never let anyone forget. 

never mentions it in front of lucifer but one of his favorite scenes is when she paralyzes azula to save mai. once again: ty lee’s bravery is just something that can be so personal. 

he doesn’t have a favorite line in the series, but his favorite exchange of dialogue is between ty lee and azula, wherein ty lee is trying to teach azula how to flirt. he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

does he like any other characters? of course! he likes everyone ^_^ . you’d actually be hard pressed to find someone he hates. ozai. it’s ozai. he has a real soft spot for mai because she reminds him of belphie. something about their shared aversion to affection is just so cute to him!

beel

aang supremacist, will hold steadfast to the fact that aang is the best character in the show and you will struggle to figure out how to convince him otherwise. 

if you ask him why aang is his favorite, the first thing he will do is gesture to a picture of him and say, “look at the material,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, before diving into a ten minute in depth character analysis for this boy. 

come on. he shouldn’t even have to explain himself. not only is aang one of the strongest, most competent avatars to exist, ever, he also mastered all four elements in a year, when he was twelve—he’s literally a different breed. and he managed to beat ozai in his own way, without killing him, as a means of staying true to a culture that could have literally died with him at any point in the show. aang is just fucking class.

he also admires aang for his near unwavering kindness and lighthearted nature. and for never going berserk and killing everyone he sees, especially after finding out his people were killed while he was in ice.

you have no idea how much pain beel was in when he found out that the air nomads were just gone. seeing a child find out that not only their family is gone, but also the entirety of their people and culture, just absolutely broke his heart. and that guilt aang was feeling? hit way too close to home for him. 

he also thinks it’s really nice that aang was so quick to forgive zuko after everything, and the two of them ended up being really good friends. it just puts a smile on his face. 

after some reflection with levi, he would’ve liked to see the full scope of an airbender’s power in the series; as in, he would’ve liked to see someone suffocated, but it’s okay, because aang wasn’t like that.  and he heard it happens in the next series over.

anyway, beel’s favorite quote in the show...well, it isn’t really a quote, as much as it’s a dialogue between two characters. it’s the scene where toph asks, “do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?” and aang says, “i don’t see why not.” it could bring a tears to his eyes just thinking about it; and in the next series over when it’s proven to be true, he absolutely cried. 

does he like any other characters? he’s actually really fond of zuko and mai because they both remind him of belphie. he also likes sokka for the same reason lucifer and satan like sokka. he has a deep appreciation for katara because aang would literally be dead without if it weren’t for her.

does he hate any characters? well, he doesn’t really like azula. he feels bad for her, but he doesn’t like her. but as for who he hates? take a wild guess. 

belphie 

zuko makes him sob is his number one. yes zuko is his favorite because of his redemption arc, yes he sees himself in zuko, no he will not explain any further than that, what’s your point🤨

in actuality, he will never be able to properly articulate how important it is for him to see that redemption is, indeed, attainable, if you put the work in. in a similar vein, he will also never be able to give words to how important it is for him to see that forgiveness is also attainable.  it means the world to him. that is why it makes him cry. the feeling is overwhelming. i’m gonna cry if i think about it for too long.

he will cling to the fact that zuko is the best character in the show, and he will cling to it even when zuko embarrasses him by saying stupid shit like, “no lightning today?” and even when zuko is so awkward it causes him physical pain. that’s his number one and he’s not changing on it!

firm zukka supporter. will not argue. that’s all.

what’s his favorite line in the entire series? it’s one of the two you’re thinking of. make that decision for yourself.

does he like any other characters? he positively adores aang and will readily admit that it’s because he reminds him of beel. bonus points for aang because he also loves the dynamic between him and zuko. toph is a distant third, mainly because he just really likes her attitude. he looks at her and thinks, now this is someone who would not hesitate to kick lucifer’s ass. 

does he hate any characters? you better believe it. he hates iroh because he reminds him of dia. he can’t really bring himself to like azula because she makes him a different kind of sad. and if you know what’s good for you, you will never mention ozai. 

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 35

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----

Chapter 35

“I’m going to miss this little place,” Ron said. 

“It was a good place,” Harry agreed, using his wand to lift the final suitcase into the pile of things that needed to be sent to Nottingham. “Small, but nice. Nice and cosy, I’d imagine.”

Ron nodded, looking around at the still-furnished flat he would be leaving behind in a few short minutes. He really had liked living here — not so much for the place itself, but because of what it meant. It was the first place he and Hermione had shared together. The first place they could call their own, even if it never truly belonged to them. They didn’t even own the furniture, yet… it had felt like theirs. 

He remembered the nights falling asleep with Hermione in his arms or waking up with her beside him. Or waking up to find her already up — on weekends still in her pyjamas and a pot of coffee already made; on work days, dressed and showered and nudging him to also get up lest he be late. 

There had been times where they had curled up together under a blanket on the sofa, talking and laughing, sometimes getting into petty arguments about one thing or another. Sometimes their talking would become intimate, and it’d lead to kissing, sex, or just straight up romance where they would fall asleep holding hands. 

The kitchen was where they cooked food — Ron learning how to cook out of necessity with Hermione’s crazy work hours. 

Even the bathroom held some memories — especially the times (as rare as they were) where Hermione wasn’t in a rush and she’d let him jump in the shower with her. 

Of course, he knew these things wouldn’t change in their new place, but there was something special about it being their first. 

But he also knew that their new house would create so many more memories over so many more years, and he was looking forward to the rest of his life living there — with the absolute love of his life. 

“I’m also keen to see what you’ve done with the new place since I saw it last, though,” Harry added. 

“Not much,” Ron confessed. “It didn’t need much work. Just the protective enchantments, really. So no peeping neighbours wonder why we never have to garden, or why there is smoke in the chimney all year round.” 

The biggest change they’d made in the last month of owning the house and not living in it had been purchasing all of their own furniture. They now had their own bed, their own sofas, their own table, their own kitchen appliances (which Ron was still getting the hang of). They’d gotten the keys in December, slightly before Christmas, and had spent the last six weeks preparing to move into it, all at the same time trying to enjoy their short break away from work, and spending time with family. 

But everyone had volunteered to pitch in to help — Harry and Ginny helping with the packing, Hermione’s parents even making the two and a half hour drive to help them with the furniture deliveries. Molly had cooked them a week’s worth of meals so they wouldn’t have to worry about it. 

And today was the day. January, and finally they were moving into their new house. 

“The two of you are taking a lot of huge steps together,” Harry said after a moment, and there was an element of pride in his voice. “You’re in this for the long haul, huh?”

Ron turned to Harry, about to ask where he’d been for the past almost three years, but stopped himself when he saw Harry’s mischievous grin. 

“Ha, ha, very funny.” 

Harry shrugged, and then put his arm across Ron’s shoulders. “It really is great. I love you guys, you’re my family, and as much as you drive each other crazy, it’s a good kind of crazy. I swear you argue less now that you're together than you did when you weren't. You really love each other.”

“More than anything,” Ron said. Over the years, talking about his feelings to Harry had become slightly easier. In fact, talking about his feelings in general had become easier the moment he could admit them to Hermione. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d been forcing himself to keep quiet, terrified of the consequences were he to admit that his feelings for one of his best friends really crossed those boundaries of friendship. 

But then she had kissed him, and his barrier had been dropped, completely punctured through. She loved him, too, and all of a sudden, he could tell her, and he could tell the world — including Harry, who really didn’t want to hear about it to begin with.

Now, Harry felt like their biggest supporter. As if he really did want them to last.

Ron laughed lightly. "You should have heard us the other day. Arguing about what sheets to get for our new bed. We couldn't agree and it took us an hour to decide. They thought we were mad, the people in the shops."

Harry also laughed and shook his head. "I'm not really surprised. You ready?"

Ron nodded. Everything was packed now. Hermione and Ginny had taken Crookshanks and their owl, Arwen, over to the new place already, along with some other things. All that was left were the suitcases filled with clothes and other little things that wouldn't fit anywhere else. 

"It'll be sad to have you guys a little further away," Harry said as they both lifted their wands at the remaining stuff.

"You're only a Floo call away,” Ron said. "And we've set up Apparition boundaries too, not too far from the house — we thought it would be weird if any neighbours saw you exit the house but not come in, so that way you can at least look as if you walked."

"You moving has made me think about it a bit," Harry said.

"What, move out of Grimmauld Place?" Ron asked, not entirely surprised by that news. Harry had always said it was temporary because he’d always hated it there.

Harry shrugged. "It was never a long term arrangement. And it's already been longer than I planned. And it's huge for just me and Ginny." He hesitated a moment after that, looking uncertainly at Ron. "You'd, um, be okay if I proposed to her soon, wouldn't you?"

"What?" Ron asked.

Harry suddenly looked very uncomfortable. It had been a long, unspoken agreement that small details of Ron and Hermione's relationship were allowed to be shared, but Harry and Ginny's was taboo. Ginny may have been okay gossiping with Hermione about her brother's sex life (even though Hermione was adamant that never happened), but it was not something Ron even wanted to think about, let alone hear about.

But that wasn't even what shocked him… or annoyed him. It was the fact that for once, Ron had hoped to be the first. 

"I mean… soon?" Harry said. "You'd be okay with it, right? If I asked her?"

Ron didn't say anything for a long while, his wand hanging limply in his hand. 

No, let me ask Hermione first, he wanted to say. For the love of Merlin just let me have this one. 

But who knew when that was going to be. With the house, and then the furniture, and then the probability of that damn car neither knew how to drive (granted, Hermione had decided to learn) he'd had to reduce his payments to fortnightly and with fewer Galleons. 

"Well," he said, keeping the bitterness from his voice as best he could, "I don't really have a say, do I?"

"But you're my best mate," Harry said, "and her brother. Your opinion matters."

"I'm okay with it," Ron said. "I mean, it's not like I'm surprised anyway. You just caught me off guard."

Ron thought he'd handled that very well. He smiled, genuine. Harry mistook it as an approval smile. 

"I know it weirds you out," he said.

"Not nearly as much as it used to," Ron said. "As long as we continue with the whole need-to-know basis, then it's all good. When do you plan to ask?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't actually know. It is only a recent thought I've had. Not for a while, I guess." 

Ron nodded again, smiling. "Well, congrats, mate. I'm happy for you. Hermione will be too. We'll have a celebration once it's over with."

"Over with?" Harry chuckled. "You make it sound like it's some lengthy procedure you want to get out of the way."

"Well… the thought of it is kind of terrifying, isn't it? I mean… there's always a chance they'll say no. They'll change their mind even if they’ve assured you they’ll say yes. That they'll say they don't actually want to get married."

Harry didn't say anything for a long while. Suddenly, he looked mildly terrified, causing Ron to feel guilty. "Obviously, that's not going to be your case!" he added hastily. "It's just… a thought."

"I guess I never thought about that," Harry said. "I mean, she is playing Quidditch, she's rarely home… do you think she'll have time to even get married?"

"I'm sure it would be a top priority, mate."

But Harry didn't look overly convinced, and the guilt hit Ron like a slap to the face. He hadn't meant to worry Harry. He'd just been expressing his own internal fears he'd been too uncomfortable to admit to himself until now. 

"Just ask her," he said after a moment. "It's not going to go badly. Trust me."

"I've never done this before," Harry said. He turned to Ron. "How do I do it? How do I ask?"

Although he’d never admit it, Ron felt rather put out that their conversation had turned to Harry talking about how he was going to ask Ginny to marry him. 

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "I would have told you if I'd done it, don't you think? I can’t even afford a stupid ring, so you’re asking the wrong person.”

"Ring?” Harry asked, looking at Ron with a stunned expression. “I'm sorry, what?" 

Ron went red. He hadn't meant to say that. "Nothing," he said quickly. “I mean… forget I said that.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. “You have a ring?”

“Well… no,” Ron said, realising he’d already said too much. He may as well tell Harry the whole story. "That’s the thing. I went to… get one last year. In April. I was going to ask Hermione, but the ring I wanted to get was ridiculously expensive, so I've been paying it off each week. Well, fortnight since we got the house."

"You were going to ask Hermione to marry you?" Harry asked softly, apparently now more interested in Ron's story than his own romantic plight. 

"Yeah," Ron said. "I really wanted to do it right, too. But the shopkeeper won't give it to me until it's all paid off. It was supposed to be a year, so I'd have it this April, but with the house and everything, I've had to delay it a little longer. I probably won't get it until the following April at the rate it's going." He sighed again. "I was so ready to do it and everything; I'd even organised a whole romantic evening that I had to cancel because it was pointless otherwise. She was so confused. I think she realised what I was planning, and then I cancelled and… I don't know. She hasn't said anything about it. She hasn't said anything to you, has she?" 

Harry shook his head, shrugging. “Not a word. You mean to say, you’ve put it off for almost a year now?”

Ron nodded. 

Harry watched him for a moment. Then,“You're the biggest idiot I've ever met.” 

"Thanks," Ron muttered. 

"You're telling me you've been planning to marry her for almost a year, and the only thing holding you back is the fact that you decided to get her an engagement ring that is far too expensive?"

Ron shrugged. 

"She doesn't care about a stupid ring, mate. I can tell you that much."

Ron shrugged again. "It was the only one that felt right. I didn’t want to just get her any old one because it was cheaper. I chose that one before I knew the price and I knew it was right for her."

Harry laughed. "You're an idiot," he said again. "But while you're being an idiot, will you at least help me come up with a plan for Ginny? Seems you have some idea on what to do, which is more than me."

"Yeah," Ron sighed. "I'll help. Just don’t tell me the intimate details, will you? One of us may as well be getting married while the other is being an idiot."

Harry shook his head, still laughing. "I wonder if Hermione realises she's moving in with the biggest prat in the world."

Ron stuck out a leg to kick Harry.

"Is that any way to treat your future brother-in-law?" Harry asked.

"Careful," Ron warned. "I might just tell you I'm not okay with it."

"And I'd have to tell you that you were right — it's not really your decision, is it?"

They grinned at each other, and Ron felt glad that his friendship with Harry had stood the test of time and many, many obstacles. And that his best friend would one day be family for real. 

“We should actually get this stuff to the house,” Ron said, nodding at the pile of things they’d been tasked to transport. 

Harry nodded, and together, they Vanished the stuff to what would hopefully be the new place. Hermione had shown them the spell, becoming frustrated when they hadn’t managed it first go, muttering something about them going to make useless Aurors if they couldn’t manage a simple Vanishing charm. 

It felt like old times, like when they were back at Hogwarts and studying for exams. The only difference this time was rather than telling her to lay off them, Ron had pulled her towards him and kissed her. It had been the most effective measure in silencing her for the past few years. 

“Ready?” Ron asked, gripping Harry’s arm. Harry nodded, and Ron spun from the living room of the flat, landing a moment later in the living room of the new place…

...to a pile of suitcases and bags which had crash landed on the brand new coffee table he and Hermione had bought, causing one of the legs to snap.

Ron grimaced at the mess, and then looked up to where Hermione and Ginny were muttering about their uselessness in moving things.

“Well, how were we supposed to know where exactly it was going to land?” Ron argued as Hermione repaired the coffee table. “We couldn’t see.”

“I managed to get the other stuff in the correct places,” Hermione retorted. 

“Yes, well, we already know we aren’t as accurate with magic as you are. Rub it in, why don’t you?” Ron grumbled, shifting the bags and suitcases into the corner of the living room. “Where do these go, anyway?”

“Upstairs,” Hermione said. For a moment, Ron thought she was going to Vanish them up there herself, but when she didn’t move, Ron realised she wanted him to drag them up himself, probably as punishment for destroying their brand new table before they’d even officially moved in. 

“I’ll levitate them, at least,” Ron told her, to which she only raised an eyebrow. 

“A little help?” Ron said to Harry, who had been standing back slightly. 

Harry nodded, and they began levitating the objects, guiding them through the doors and upstairs. “She has a point, really,” Harry said on their way up. “We should be able to do that spell.”

“She’s just stressing as Hermione stresses in situations like this,” Ron said. “Everything has to go perfectly to plan.”

They let the bags fall onto the floor of the bedroom, where all that was there was a bed — made up and looking fresh and clean, and ready to be slept in. 

“Hermione?” Harry asked, nodding toward the duvet. It was a pale blue and white cover, which was one of the many small arguments they’d had about the decor of the house. Ron had not liked it, but then she had won the argument by stating she didn’t like the idea of Quidditch hoops in the garden, but she wasn’t telling him no to that.

So they had bought that one.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “I get the Quidditch stuff, she gets everything else in the house, and I’m okay with that. I really want the hoops.”

Harry chuckled. “Married life, I guess.”

“Not yet,” Ron reminded him. 

“As good as.”

“Yeah,” Ron said with a small smile. It was.

A moment later, Hermione and Ginny came into the room as well, laughing at the sight of Ron and Harry staring at the bed. 

“You moved a few bags and you’re contemplating taking a nap, are you?” Ginny said. 

“No,” Ron and Harry said together. 

“We were just commenting on the duvet,” Harry added. “It’s… nice.”

“A good thing you don’t have to sleep there then, isn’t it, Harry?” Hermione said. “Ron doesn’t like it either.” She looked at Ron, amused. “Mum and Dad just got here with a few extra little things we realised were missing this morning. Is everything gone from the other place?”

“Yep, it’s just the keys to pass on now. Where’s the cat and where’s the owl?”

“Crookshanks is exploring the garden, and I told Arwen she could stretch her wings.”

They made their way back downstairs and into the kitchen where Hermione’s parents were both standing by the bench. A pile of small bits and pieces sat atop it, and a bag full of groceries.

“We thought you might need a head start,” Jane said, smiling. “So you don’t go hungry. Though, I hear Molly has you covered for that as well?”

“Mum would never let us starve,” Ron said to Hermione’s mother. He took the bag from the bench and looked at Hermione. “I may need some help with what goes in the refrigerator,” he added.

“If it’s cold, it goes in, if it’s not cold, the pantry,” Jane said. 

“Thanks,” Ron said, and he began unloading the butter, some milk and eggs into the refrigerator. Arthur had spent a good thirty minutes admiring it when they’d put it in a week ago. 

“Fascinating,” he had kept saying. “And, Ron, you’ll be living with elektisity. Amazing!” Much to the amusement of Hermione’s parents, who had also been there.

Ron had to remind him that Percy was also living in a house with electricity with a gentle nudge to go and bother him. 

Now, Ron continued unloading the groceries. Hermione’s parents had bought some vegetables as well, which stumped Ron. Harry had to help him sort them out. 

“Merlin, that’s going to take some getting used to,” Ron said. “The flat was all magic. We didn’t need one.”

“You’ll figure it out, I’m sure,” Jane said kindly. 

“You’ll be fine,” Hermione added, smiling at him. 

He returned her smile. Anywhere with her was home. 

“Well, perhaps we should go to our hotel for the night,” Jane said after a moment. “Check in. We’ve decided to stay in Nottingham, just to see the two of you settled in. In case there’s anything else you need.”

“Thanks,” Ron said, and he didn’t just mean for the food. Ever since getting the house, they had been so busy that he’d not had a chance to really thank her parents for the help they had given for the house. “I mean… for everything, not just today. For… the house.”

Both of her parents smiled. “It is the least we can do, Ron,” her dad said. “To get the two of you set up.”

Sixteen thousand Galleons equivalent wasn’t a small thing, but Ron didn’t push the matter. He was grateful for the help, because without it, they wouldn’t be standing there right now. 

“We’ll go back, too,” Ginny said. “I’ve got tomorrow off, but training starts again on Monday. We’re going out for dinner tonight, me and Harry.” She beamed. “It’s been forever.”

“Enjoy,” Hermione said. “Maybe try the Floo back to your place. Make sure it works. It was a hell of a lot of paperwork to get it connected, so you may as well use it.”

“Will do,” Ginny said, grinning at them. “Enjoy your first night in your new place. Try not to break any more furniture.” She turned to Hermione’s parents then, and added quickly, “I do mean literally. Ron broke the coffee table earlier.” She looked back at Ron and Hermione. “We’ll drop by again tomorrow. See you.”

The four of them left after that, Harry and Ginny Flooing back to Grimmauld Place, while Hermione’s parents drove back down the driveway toward the city of Nottingham where they were staying. 

Ron threw his arm around Hermione’s shoulder as the car disappeared down the road and they closed the door behind them.

“Tomorrow we give the key back, and then this place is truly ours,” he said. “Just you and me.”

“How do we spend our first night in our new place?” Hermione asked. 

…

It was nearing ten o’clock at night, and just as Ron had imagined all those weeks ago, they sat on the sofa, curled up together with a blanket thrown over them. It wasn’t even that cold, but it was comforting and the romantic in Ron had insisted. 

“This is nice,” Hermione said, and her voice sounded faraway, as if she was almost asleep. 

Ron drew her closer towards him, his thoughts wandering into something resembling pure bliss, only interrupted a few moments later by an intrusive memory that he’d brushed aside until now. 

“Apparently I am helping Harry figure out a way to ask Ginny to marry him.”

“What?” Hermione lifted her head off Ron’s shoulder and sat up. “Since when?”

“Since this morning, apparently,” Ron said with a shrug. “He asked me if I’d be okay with it, which… well, yeah, I am. Then he asked me if I could help him do it. I mean, I assume he meant helping him find a way to ask her that doesn’t seem ridiculous and cheesy.”

“That’s great news!” Hermione said, and she sounded genuinely thrilled. If there was any thought in her mind about when she’d be getting engaged, she hid it very well. “Oh, I’m so happy for them. Do you know when he’s planning it?”

“No,” Ron said. “You know Harry — if it’s something that involves even a small plan, then he prefers to dive right in, head first.”

“Ginny did say they were going to dinner tonight…” Hermione began.

“Yeah, but he asked me for help,” Ron said. “And I haven’t given him the slightest bit of help.” He thought back to earlier that day, and Harry’s amusement over the whole ring situation. “Except, I guess, what not to do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked. 

“Nothing.” Ron shook his head. “Just something that happened while we were packing up the stuff at the flat. You think Ginny will say yes?”

“Certain of it,” Hermione said. “Though, with the Quidditch season starting up again soon, I can’t imagine when they’ll find the time to get married. They’ll have to squeeze it in between a game, I guess. And that all depends on whether the game has actually finished before the next one is due to start.”

Ron laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Hermione asked.

“Well, I’d hope — and correct me if I’m wrong if I’m assuming too much — that Ginny would actually consider missing a game or two for her own wedding.”

Hermione flushed, and it was obvious that the thought hadn’t actually occurred to her. “I… I suppose you’re right.”

Ron watched her for a moment. Now he knew she definitely was thinking about their own potential wedding. She had an air of guilt about her. 

“If you and Harry find you’re struggling, I can offer some suggestions, too,” Hermione said after a moment. “I do think, considering it’s Harry and Ginny, something simple. Or something Quidditch related.”

“Maybe at a Quidditch game?” Ron suggested.

“Harry wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself like that,” Hermione argued.

“Good point.”

“A dinner is a little cliche, but nice and simple, and if it’s in the house, then there’s no one else around.”

“Wouldn’t that be boring, though?” Ron asked.

“I think it’s romantic,” Hermione said. “I think it would be nice for them to become engaged just at home, no one else around…”

Ron smiled at her. 

Hermione flushed a little, and added quickly, “But I mean, if, um, Harry doesn’t want to do it that way then there’s other options. Start by asking him, I guess. You’re good at that kind of thing, Ron. Better than he is. I’m sure you’ll think of something. It’s so exciting for them!”

Ron’s smile widened. “I love you,” he said. 

She responded by kissing him. 

…

There was a cool breeze floating through the window the following morning. Ron shivered. What was it doing open in January? It was far too cold for such a thing. 

And then he remembered. 

Their first night together in their new place had become heated, especially when they’d decided to come to bed. They’d needed to open the window after a bit, just to cool themselves down. 

And now it didn’t help in the morning that he’d fallen asleep without any clothes and the blankets were tossed down around his waist. 

He groaned and rolled over, drawing them back up to under his chin. “Morning,” he said groggily, reaching out an arm to place around Hermione. She didn’t respond, but he could feel that beneath the blankets she also had forgotten to get dressed. He snuggled into her, partly for warmth and partly because he was still very much remembering how he had fallen asleep and wanted to be as close to her as possible.

Her even, gentle breathing lulled him back into a sleep. He didn’t know for how long, but he was woken again by Hermione shifting against him. She rolled over and before he could even open his eyes, her lips were on his again. 

“Good morning,” she whispered, snuggling into him. Her skin was so warm and soft against his. 

He grinned, still through closed eyes. “Very good morning,” he said, moving his arm under the blankets and drawing her closer towards him. “You’re so warm,” he added, suppressing a shiver. “Dumb idea, leaving that open all night.”

“I was going to close it, but then I fell asleep,” Hermione said, keeping her voice low. 

Ron drew her even closer to him, sinking lower under the blankets. A moment later Hermione pulled away. His eyes sprung open as she reached for her wand, pointed it at the open window and then snuggled back in under the covers.

“We don’t have to get up today, do we?” Ron asked. 

“I’m okay to stay here,” Hermione agreed, and she kissed him again.

And they would have gladly stayed in bed all day, enjoying their new house (and each other’s company), but at some point (Ron didn’t know and didn’t care what the time was) there was an annoying disruption.

A rush of flames, and then a shout that sounded a lot like Ginny’s from the bottom of the stairs. “You two up there?”

“Great idea linking the fireplaces,” Ron groaned, pulling away from Hermione unwillingly. “Your best idea yet.”

Hermione, also looking rather annoyed at the interruption, sat up in the bed in a very flustered state. “I don’t think we’re in any state to go down just yet,” she said. 

Ron definitely wasn’t, so they laid back down, Hermione flicking her wand to open the window again. 

“I doubt they’re sleeping,” Ron heard Ginny say, probably to Harry. “It’s midday. Honestly.”

And then there was silence, with any luck the two deciding to go back home. Though, Ron knew that was wishful thinking. 

“I suppose we should get up,” Hermione said after a while, once the cold air began to become a nuisance again, and not a relief. 

“Annoying little sisters,” Ron grumbled as they both sat up and attempted to find something to dress into. Nothing had been unpacked yet, and by the time Ron had found a shirt and a pair of jeans to throw on, Hermione was opening the door in her pyjamas that she definitely had not worn last night.

Harry and Ginny were waiting in the kitchen, both with a mug of hot tea in front of them. 

“Sorry, should have sent word when we were coming over,” Ginny said, and to Ron’s surprise, she actually looked a little embarrassed. 

“Yeah,” Ron replied, unable to contain his annoyance at their unwelcome intrusion. “Also should have used your brain.”

Hermione gave him a whack across the chest.

“Ow.”

“It’s alright,” Hermione said, accepting an offer of tea that Harry had just poured. “We were just about to get up.”

That was so far from the truth that no one believed her, but no one said anything. 

“So, how’s the place?” Harry asked. “You’ve settled in alright?”

“Yep,” Ron said. “There’s a lot more space than we’re used to, but that’s alright. We’ll get used to it, I’m sure. It already kind of feels like home.”

“I’m glad,” Ginny said with a smile. 

They moved into idle chat after that, Harry and Ginny talking about their date night, and then moving onto work, and the new Quidditch season. It wasn’t until Hermione jumped up from her seat and said, “Harry, can I see you in the next room?” that the conversation died.

“Is that some secret work business going on in there?” Ginny asked. 

“I dunno, maybe,” Ron said, though he had a feeling that Hermione was sharing all her sudden ideas about how to propose to Ginny in the next room. He repressed a sigh.

“Harry told me what you said to him yesterday,” Ginny said after a moment. “About the ring. You’re an idiot.”

Ron glared at her. 

“I’m serious,” Ginny continued. “You. Are. So. Stupid.”

“I’m not getting into this discussion with you,” Ron said. “It’s too late now, anyway. I can’t back out, and I don’t want to.”

Ginny stared at him for a moment, then shook her head again, stating, “You’re an idiot.” 

“That’s what George told me when I told him what I did.”

“Yeah, well, he’s right, too.”

Ron couldn’t say anything, for Harry and Hermione returned, Harry looking rather overwhelmed. 

“We should head back,” Ginny said. “I have to be back in Holyhead at seven in the morning tomorrow.”

“Good luck for this year,” Hermione said. “We’ll try to get to some games to see you play.”

Ginny smiled, giving Hermione and Ron a hug each. “Thanks. We have a pretty strong team. I’m just glad to be playing this year at all.”

“You deserve it,” Hermione said. 

“Thanks. See you guys, and enjoy the rest of your afternoon. We’ll remember to Apparate next time, or send word first. Sorry.”

Once they had gone, Hermione turned straight to Ron and said, “You need to help Harry. He’s clueless.” And she took another sip of the freshly brewed tea. 

[asgardianthot]

Flesh And Bones – Part 9

Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist

A/N: oof this took a while! second to last :( gonna miss cracking my head with this fic lol never again shall I just wing it without a clear idea of how to end a story.

*Important: Hydra base scene but I won’t depict a tortured Bucky, he doesn’t always have to suffer at the expense of his ex-captors and I’m honestly getting tired of the obscene amount of torture fics out there!! Consider this an anti-trigger warning but also a threat? Idk enjoy

The anguish never went away.

Two days later, Bucky found himself knocking on Sam’s door, his heart on his hand.

There was no answer behind the thick walls, but Bucky knew he was there. Somehow, he felt it deep in his bones.

"You okay?" he asked.

The sound was muffled inside Sam’s room, both from the structure separating them and the external sounds that made their way in through the open window. There, Sam rested both hands on the lower frame as he stared outside, more focused on the wind and noise that drowned down his thoughts than the actual view. Bucky’s interruption made him realize he didn’t know for how long he’d stayed in that frozen position.

He slid down the window until it hit its frame, "Yeah, why?” he lied nonchalantly.

His mind was racing. As time passed and brought the team closer to the Hydra raid, Sam worried for Bucky. Not that he wasn’t prepared or that he was being reckless, because he knew that wasn’t the case. What had him worrying was the idea of Hydra potentially targeting Bucky. Although Natasha had assured him a million times that there was absolutely no chances that this was a trap, Sam’s mind couldn’t help but wander around horrible ‘what if’s, ones that compromised his soulmate because Hydra’s finest assassin had escaped them, so they were likely to want revenge on the man. Maybe even try to get him back under their grasp. And if Sam was deprived from the option of saving him, he wouldn’t know how to live anymore.

Bucky’s answer, however, got his head out of the dark cloud.

"I don't know. I feel weird." Barnes mumbled from across the door, loud enough to be heard though.

The last three words alone were enough to bring Sam towards the closed door. Bucky felt him. He felt weird, and wondered if Sam was alright, and he went to check up on him. As soon as he faced the mildly pouty lip, the big brown eyes, the badly concealed worried frown, he wished for nothing else than to kiss that pout away.

Which he did very aggressively. Sam brought his body against Bucky’s, he cupped the brunette’s face by his raspy cheeks and crashed their lips together. He didn’t wait for Bucky’s tongue to dance with his, he made it. When they stopped to regain their breaths, and the make out was over, Bucky looked confused, but in the best way possible.

He caught his breath with an amused look, "Okay."

Sam wanted to laugh with him, address his flourishing emotions, but his worry was far greater. So he showed the man inside and gestures to follow him. They both sat at the end of Sam’s bed.

“Yeah, there’s something wrong.” Sam admitted.

Barnes’ tone became sterner and more precautious, “What?”

Wilson held his hand before speaking.

"Tony said there's no rules or anything.” He reminded the latter of their informative chat with Stark, “But he did make it seem like there was some sort of... I don't know, some sort of progression.”

"What do you mean?"

Sam inclined his head like he was pushing himself to say the next thing out loud, "You've been really nervous lately."

Bucky didn’t flinch, yet he wasn’t comfortable either. The idea of Sam knowing that, finding out that he wasn’t as relaxed about the raid as he wished to play it out, was a quick disappointment.

"Guess you could say that." He looked away.

"I know that.” Sam emphasized the word while at the same time lowering his volume to attain a more intimate tone, “I don't think I should be able to."

Bucky simply shrugged.

"Why can I tell when you're anxious?” He had to insist on his concern. “How come you do too? It doesn't make any sense. Unless..."

"Hey.” The soldier stopped him, already knowing what scenario Sam was forming inside his head, “There's no step back here.”

Given Bucky’s certainty was convincing, and he was becoming aware of the fact that he was overthinking, Sam still couldn’t shake off the sour feeling of approaching danger.

“You’re supposed to be the sane one here, Sammy.” Bucky laughed, which brought a warm feeling deep in Sam’s chest because of the employed nickname, “We're okay. It doesn't have to mean anything, remember?"

That was enough for Sam’s heart rate to drop considerably. Bucky managed to calm him like that.

"Thank you.” Sam said genuinely.

Nevertheless, Bucky could read him. Hell, he could feel his dark feelings not shifting away. So he went into the gray zone he didn’t think he would be approaching anytime soon.

“Is it because of Riley?” he dared to bring up the subject.

Sam was more than taken aback, but he blinked to dissimulate. They had only ever talked about Riley once before, in another heart-to-heart, and it had brought tears to Sam’s eyes. Bucky knew everything, their friendship that was always something more, the love declarations left unsaid, the part where they saved each other’s asses in Afghanistan. Riley was the reason why Sam trusted the universe to be kind, even without a soulmate. He was the reason Sam told everyone you can love without a bond, because that memory was all that was left of the dead man.

“What do you mean?” he let the words out minimally.

“Are you afraid to lose me like you lost him?”

Sam shook his head, rejecting the mere thought of comparing the two men, almost desperately. There were open wounds that he hadn’t had the courage to heal yet. He cleared his throat and tried to shrug it off.

“He, uhm… He didn’t have that crazy serum of yours.” Sam faked an absent mind, although he failed, “You’re not the same.”

Bucky could see right through him.

“Exactly, I’m not Riley.” He grabbed Sam’s chin endearingly. “I heal fast, and you’ll feel me the entire time, and I get that you’re scared, but so am I. It’s why we got each other, right?”

Sam’s vision became less blurry when his soaked eyes dropped a single tear each. They rolled down his cheeks and were wiped away by Bucky’s thumb.

“I promise you won’t lose me.” He ensured his soulmate, who allowed himself to be held and rocked until he felt like talking again.

-

“Everyone on comms?” Steve’s voice barged into everyone’s earpieces.

As soon as the five other voices replied, Rogers gave them the orders required to execute the raid perfectly.

The first two floors would be empty, according to their lead, for they mainly consisted of dirty  storage units meant to distract anyone from even getting close to finding the real base. So, those floors were their entrance and their escape, if ever needed. Hopefully, they would imprison everyone, realistically speaking, a few would be taken out in the process, perhaps killed. Whatever may come out of the raid, Steve Rogers had a whole alphabet of backup plans.

First off, they had to disperse. Steve and Rhodey walked upstairs as silently as possible, reaching the third floor in minutes. Meanwhile, Bucky and Natasha moved forward and explored the premises with their guards up. Romanoff’s excuse to pair with him was that they both had experience with these kind of organizations, although they everyone was rather aware of the fact that she was keeping an eye on the man Sam was worried about. Bucky ignored the reason behind it, and made no comment as the pair was left behind by Sam and Wanda, who walked upstairs.

When the first line of Avengers broke down the door in one swift blow, shield and blasters up with anticipation, they found the entire floor empty. After a confused glance between Rhodes and Rogers, they lurked around every single corner and behind every single door. Nothing.

“This wing is clear.” Rhodey said through his earpiece.

Although it didn’t seem to upset the rest of the team half as much, Sam was experiencing his fair share of anxiety. He looked up to the ceiling, as if he could burn a whole straight through and peak at the floor in question.

“Where are they?” He whispered to himself.

A minute later, Steve sent another command, “I need guns on the front line.”

Barnes rolled his eyes in mocking of his best friend.

“Nobody talks like that, Stevie.” He taunted him.

Yet Steve didn’t appreciate the joke, for he was far too tense. His eyes moved around frantically, looking for a possible trap, which his paranoia was leading to.

“Guns first.” He repeated himself clearly, “Something feels off.”

But nobody got there. Before Bucky or Natasha could even reach the stairs, a set of loud noises surrounded them. In every floor, metal doors fell from the ceiling, blocking exits and doors. These doors weren’t too intense, but their tech hadn’t picked up on them, which meant they were expected. Every Avenger found themselves trapped in their respective zones. As for Barnes and Romanoff, they were too apart from each other to even see the other’s face.

So, deep in his fear, Bucky raised his gun and checked every wall his sight could reach, almost waiting to be attacked. If Natasha was completely honest, she would have bet Bucky was a target, as well. That is what everyone’s minds went to, especially Sam’s. Luckily, he had the company of Wanda right next to him to feel calmer.

"Everyone okay?" Rhodes checked.

Sam and Wanda replied with their status and whereabouts, but after a lack of response from the other two, the man confirmed their status on his wrist screen, only to see that Barnes and Romanoff were off-line. He figured they must’ve been trapped downstairs.

"We gotta move fast.” Steve ordered, keeping his Captain-like calm, “Try to get to the control panels, if not, evacuate. They know we're here."

Wanda and Sam. Walking slowly. Careful. Not many places to hide, but there must be a way out.

“He’s okay.” Wanda let Sam know.

They walked side by side, as slowly as possible. There weren’t many places to hide nor another entrance that they knew of, on the second floor, yet they remained precautious.

“What?” Sam let out without paying much attention.

“I’m saying, he can take care of himself.”

Once Sam understood that Wanda was playing the best friend card in letting him know she knew Bucky to be strong, he realized he probably looked too worried.

He fought back his frown. “I know that. I’m just…”

“Anxious?”

“We’re trapped in an underground intelligence base,” He sighed loudly, “shouldn’t I be?”

The statement earned an acknowledging nod from Wanda, who waited a few more seconds to press his earpiece and reach the Captain.

“Steve? You think it’s okay if I tear down a wall?” She asked for permission to jump into action.

“No.” Steve denied her dryly, “Bucky and Nat are on their own, we won’t engage until they’re safe.”

The young woman shut her eyes with annoyance, “Okay, Steve? You’re not helping Sam stay calm.”

She received no further comments. Everyone felt too powerless after all. No comments.

Down in the bottom storage, the place began to look more like a maze. It was a mess of similar, dusty hallways and old, closed doors. Natasha tried each and every single one of them, but they were useless, and she figured they wouldn’t get her anywhere, anyway. It might as well have been an underground cellblock.

“Barnes, give me a sign.” She asked for a second time.

Bucky indulged her, complying with her attempts at finding each other. Together meant safer.

He thought hard about his whereabouts, “East wing’s on my… left side.”

“I can’t get through to anyone else.” Romanoff finally said what seemed obvious to both of them.

The soldier couldn’t help but take a deep, calming breath, for it was a much needed one. He gripped his gun harder, trying to ease himself.

“Me neither.” His mouth spoke in disconnection with his brain, which was submerged in paranoia by now.

Natasha could sense that.

“We’re okay.” She did her best at calming him realistically, as she looked around for a way to find him, “You said east wing? I think I got you, Barnes.”

Suddenly, a gunshot was clearly heard, making Natasha turn around in a haze, only to find herself alone, and realize that the shot came from afar.

“Crap.” Bucky groaned, his communicator still on.

After the sound of three other guns and what appeared to be Bucky’s rapid machinegun, the woman panicked.

“Talk to me.” She ordered him.

"I got hostiles!" Barnes screamed over the noise of his own weapon.

As soon as Natasha realized she could hear where the attack came from, she followed the echo, running. Eventually, the sound drowned out.

“Bucky?” she asked, fear crippling through her.

There was no reply but the sound of Bucky panting. She managed to find a grilled gate, which she shot and kicked open easily, all the while her mind raced to the worst case scenario. Sam had trusted her with his soulmate’s life.

Finally, she hit the scene: two dead bodies on the floor, both hostiles. The soulmate’s life was still intact.

“Good, you’re alive.” She breathed out, pretending she wasn’t just losing her mind mere seconds ago.

Nevertheless, she quickly noticed that Bucky’s panting was linked to whatever made him hold his ribs so painfully. Then, Bucky removed his flesh hand from that zone in order to look at it, revealing to both of them that the hand was covered in blood. As terrified as Natasha was, her expression couldn’t match Bucky’s.

"You’re shot." She stated with wide eyes.

Bucky swallowed hard, "We have to find Sam." He said roughly.

As Romanoff processed Bucky’s fear, the latter looked around for an out in desperation. He was worried that Sam was hurt. Sam, who couldn’t bleed out from a soul bond wound, while Bucky had his fingers pressed against a pool of red.

"He'll live.” Natasha approached him carefully, “You, on the other hand..."

Barnes shook his head. "Sam first."

-

Wanda was known to save the day without too much effort. Turns out, the Hydra base was covered in desperate traps because they were too vulnerable to withstand a raid. Therefore, the witch tore down the metal walls and flew up to help Rhodey and Steve, who didn’t need too much aid as it was. Sam stayed down, fully aware that the other three were probably kicking ass, and still worrying. He ran downstairs as soon as the blockade was taken care of, in need of finding Bucky safe and sound, even if he knew that he was.

And he knew he was okay, because Sam himself hadn’t felt a single sting. Not a gunshot, not a bruise, not even a scratch.

So, if Sam felt untouched, then Bucky must be.

Finally, he heard the pair, and found them at the bottom of the stairs. He jogged the last few steps and noticed that Bucky was holding himself up against the wall, limping. The latter looked up with big, concerned eyes.

"You okay?" He asked Sam.

That was when Sam saw the bloody hand pressed against his soulmate’s chest. Natasha was helping him stay on his own two feet, while Bucky examined Sam’s body like his own life depended on it. Technically, that was the whole deal. Wilson pushed his own hand against Bucky’s and frowned.

"Did you get shot?" he shouted in despair, his eyes as big and afraid as ever.

"I'm sorry. I tried-" Bucky tried, but cut himself off with a grunt of pain.

"Buck." Sam grabbed his torso.

"Let's go home." Bucky begged.

"Yes. We will.” Sam’s tone became serious and authoritarian, “Sit down."

"I'm fine."

"He's losing a lot of blood." Natasha confirmed Samuel’s suspicions.

In between the frantic commands and worrisome looks, Bucky couldn’t help but notice Sam’s lack of discomfort. Almost like he hadn’t felt a gunshot in his chest a few minutes ago.

He frowned with confusion, "Why are you-?"

"I didn't feel it.” Sam shrugged it off, way more focused on the open wound, “Sit down. Bucky."

"What do you mean-?"

"I didn't. Bucky!” Sam grabbed the face of the stubborn, hurt man with his free hand, smearing blood all over his cheek, and yelled to his face. “James! Listen! There was no bond. Right now, that's not important. You're bleeding out."

"They didn't hurt you?" Bucky seemed to finally understand.

“No!”

The new information hit Bucky like a soft, warm wave of tranquility. If Sam wasn’t hurt, if Hydra hadn’t hurt Sam, then he didn’t need to worry. He could breathe. And as he breathed, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, along with some heavy dizziness.

"That's good." He mumbled, looking past Sam with lost eyes.

"It is. Now calm the fuck down." Wilson begged, trying to take a good look of the wound.

Bucky nodded, finally compliant, "Okay."

With that last word, Bucky’s eyes rolled back into his skull, and he surrendered to tiredness. He stopped feeling anything other than her very light head, until everything went black.

"Shit.” Sam cursed under his breath, catching him before he hit the ground completely.

He eased his partner’s fall and let the passed out body rest against the wall.

“Give me a hand.” He asked Natasha.

They managed to sit him straight against the wall, in order for Sam to press his hand against the bleeding gunshot. Nat said something over the communicators for the rest of the team, which Sam didn’t fully catch, before she knelt down next to her friend. She examined the wound, then Bucky’s pupils and let out a breath.

“He’s gonna be fine.” She appeased Sam.

“I know.” Sam said without giving it too much of a thought.

The woman gave him a wondering look.

Sam merely shook his head with uncertainty, “I just do.”

[adoreyou303]

Sweet Creature (H.S. Fic)

CW: fainting

Chapter Five

Nothing compares to your first time. Your first kiss. Your first shower after a week camping. Your first broken bone. Your first time back after a traumatic experience. She expects an intense rush of emotion, especially considering the secret nestled in her midsection; however, once she walks through the doors of the arena, she feels mildly… flat. 

Soundcheck feels painfully like going through the motions, and all she wants to do is get it over with. There is nothing worse than feeling like the thing you once loved has turned into a chore. And, either the intense heat of the stage lights or the being currently leaching off of her body’s nutrients is causing intense dizziness that she can’t shake off. Fortunately, she has the mic stand to cling onto, helping to hold her upright. When she feels like she just about can’t take it anymore, she hears a familiar voice on the area floor. Cupping her hand over her eyes to try to make out the figures, she speaks into her mic.

“Is that Harry? Can you send him up here?” she pleads, just a little too desperate. She pulls at her in-ear monitors, still grasping the stand in case her body decides to give out on her. 

“Mel? You alright?” Harry inquires, practically shoving a water bottle into her hand. She nods her head yes, but flashes him a look of panic. “Why don’t we go have a sit in the dressing room, yeah?” 

Not waiting for an answer, he wraps his arm around her, taking nearly all her weight. The draining color of her face alerts him that something isn’t right. When had she last eaten? Did something trigger her? Is it the baby? No one knew about the last part, so he couldn’t say anything just yet. He had to be absolutely sure if he was going to speak up. 

When they reached the dressing room, Harry gently set her on the couch. He brought the water bottle up to her lips, which she gratefully accepted. 

“Alright?” he asked softly. She nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Are you going to be able to do the show tonight?” 

“I think so. I think I just got a little overwhelmed, being back in an arena and all,” she lies, reaching out to hold the water bottle. She wants to tell him that every cell in her body hurts and all she wants to do is take a bubble bath then crawl into bed while wearing her comfiest PJs, but she has a job to do. 

“I’ll be out there with you. You remember what to do if you need to stop?” 

She showed the hand signal they came up with, which universally meant to everyone to continue playing until whoever needs to get off is off safely. 

Harry stays with Melanie right up until she is needed on stage. It’s only once she’s up there safely that he goes to change into his own outfit.

Before he turns to walk toward his dressing room, he takes in the sight before him. She’s gleaming in the lights. Guitar strapped to her chest, her eyes closed as if the music was leading her home. She makes it look easy, the way her fingers fly over the strings and frets like they were made to do it. A smile dances on his lips as he watches her get closer to the mic in a passionate swell of the bridge to the chorus. He remembers the first time he saw her lipstick-stained microphone. He teased her relentlessly for how close she got to the mic that her lip products transferred onto the stainless steel. A rose tint crept its way up her cheeks every time she put the finishing touches on her makeup. What color was going to embrace the microphone tonight? When was it going to be his turn? 

All was going well- or so it seemed. She enjoys her job, really. What she didn’t realize, however, was how intense it would be with the new addition to her body. She apologizes to her fans, citing a sleepless night for her unusual lack of energy. They pay it no mind, screaming for both her and Harry, shouting lyrics, and giving all the love to their band. Really, she couldn’t be more grateful. 

Under the sweltering lights, Melanie feels beads of sweat prickling at the back of her neck. Her chest tightens with every breath she is able to huff out. Somewhere between Mitch’s guitar solo and a dreamy duet with Harry, her hands began to shake. The shaking begins to intensify as the heat in her body rises. What’s worse, no amount of water she consumes seems to quench her thirst or settle the heat radiating from her body. 

Desperately trying to catch Harry’s attention, she turns towards him, back facing the audience. He’s too busy entertaining the crowd to notice she’s signaling the band to stop. Sarah and Mitch notice right away, watching with worried eyes as she continues to hold the signal waiting for everyone to notice. When it’s clear he isn’t going to notice in time, Sarah and Mitch take over, changing the set to help cover. 

Harry whips around to question why his band just skipped a chunk of songs, but instead, he notices Melanie inching further and further from the front of the stage. Her skin, usually flushed under the lights, is oddly grey. Her eyes are wide and distant, as if she was looking through him. He takes a second to get a look at her, taking in as much as he can before something in him screams this isn’t right. 

He pulls his mic stand upright and starts walking over to her, mouthing “You okay?” over the music. Instead of an answer, her knees buckle, her body collapsing. He crosses the stage faster than ever, catching her in his arms before her head hits the hard stage. Gasps and murmurs fill the arena along with the sound of shutters and the flashes of cameras. But that didn’t matter to him. All he could focus on was her and the way her eyes flutter underneath her eyelids. 

“Come on, Melanie. Wake up, wake up,” he chants, lightly tapping her cheeks. All kinds of people rush out to help, surrounding the two from any kind of pictures or video. 

“We should move her. It’ll be safer to have her backstage,” one stage crew member suggested, gesturing to the crowd behind him.

“We aren’t moving her until she wakes up,” Harry growls, pushing the hair out of her face. He didn’t mean to be rude. He is always kind to everyone helping backstage. At this moment, he just feels frightened, like someone is going to take away his best friend. The person he loves. He feels the need to protect her right here, right now. Always.

“Harry?” she whispers, her eyes blinking rapidly trying to focus.

“Hey, love. How’re you feeling? You alright?”

“What? What happened?” she questions, her voice weak and tired.

“You fainted. You’re okay now.”

“What? In the middle of the concert??” she starts, her eyes getting big. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” 

Harry stays with Melanie until she is more alert and ready to stand. Ushers at the venue shut down the concert and lead most ticket holders out of the arena. There would be no continuing the concert. 

“They won’t be mad at you, Mel. They literally saw you faint. It’s not like you decided to go on vacation and not refund their tickets,” Harry sighed, rubbing her calf gently. 

“I can’t do my job anymore,” she voices, her throat tight with tears. 

“You can, love. It’s just a matter of figuring out your new boundaries. This was your first show back. You’ll get the hang of it, promise,” he whispers, placing a gentle kiss to the smooth skin of her leg. The simple gesture sent her heart into a frenzy. She didn’t know if he meant it platonically or if he knew how much his touch drove her crazy, but if she could stay here with him in this moment forever, she would be happy.

[honeyjaez]

Maze of Miroh- Chapter 17: Dinner with a bit of Angst

Authors Note:

HELLO LOVES. IM SLEEPY. 

Anyways, this is a shorter chapter, but it sets up the highlight of this arc, which Im really excited about. Hope it isnt’ too shit haha.

The Under

 An echo of a bell rang through Minho’s ears as they pushed through the door and into the little shack.  He looked around and noticed small tables were placed throughout the area with wooden walls attached to the side, blocking people from others' sight.

Minho felt a familiar prickle of anxiety as he looked around. He always hated small, secluded places and actively avoided them. But he forced himself to relax and smiled slightly when he recognized Yunho’s fluffy brown hair in the back corner. He bowed to the neighboring table as he made his way through the store, Jisung at his side. As he did so, he heard Chan behind him stop near the entrance, calling out to someone, but Minho didn’t turn around to listen.

 Minho caught San settling down next to Wooyoung who was situated on Yunho’s side When the young thief's eyes caught Minho’s he smiled, gesturing him over.

 He swallowed a ball of saliva loudly. On one hand, he was glad San and him were okay, but he was also still VERY wary of the blond. Luckily, before he was forced to respond, Jisung tugged on Minho’s arm roughly towards Yunho’s other side, settling down in the other vacant seat.

 As Minho followed suit, he could see in the corner of his eye, San giving Jisung a rather nasty glare, but the younger's only response was to stick his tongue out, mocking him. Minho felt his eyes rolling automatically, choosing to ignore both of their antics. He instead turned towards Yunho, giving the doctor a small smile.

 “Glad you could take a break for a bit.” he said earnestly. Truthfully speaking, he was  rather glad to see a nice member of Hongjoong’s crazy group.

 Yunho took a sip of his water, nodding appreciatively “The other doctors can handle the situation for the night. I'm starving!”

 Jisung broke his glaring contest with San to look over at the doctor, concern sparkling in his eyes. “There were a lot of sick people in there….Is there some sort of sickness going around?” 

 Yunho’s eyes flashed towards Jisung, and his smile grew tired as he ducked his head. “Nothing we can’t handle....Just a common thing at this time around….”

 Minho's eyes narrowed as he caught the hesitation in Yunho’s voice. He looked to Jisung and could tell that the younger caught the tone as well. 

  There is something he isn’t telling us… 

 He opened his mouth, ready to ask the younger boy what exactly it meant, but, before he could, he was interrupted by Chan, who was walking up to their table with two new faces Minho had never seen before.

 “Except for its not….”  he said matter-of-factly “Is it Yunho?”

 His words were harsh, but Minho couldn’t read his leader's face as he gazed down at the young doctor. Yunho who was looking up at the curly haired blond only chuckled  humorlessly, a twinge of guilt passing through his eyes. 

 “There is nothing you don’t see, is there Bang Chan?”

 Chan cracked a small smile and shrugged softly, “It’s a blessing and a curse.” 

 The older boy then turned and looked at the two of them, motioning to the strangers on his side. “Minho. Jisung. “ he started “I want you to meet two more of Hongjoong’s crew. This is Jongho and Mingi.”

 The shorter one, Jongho, only gazed hard at them, a single nod of his head before setting down next to San. Mingi, on the other hand, stayed standing, and gave a wide toothy grin. “Sup! I heard you kicked San’s ass earlier. Care to give me pointers?”

  “Uhhhh…” If a human could sweatdrop, Minho sure was. Luckily for him, the conversation was interrupted by Wooyoung hissing in annoyance at the pair. 

 “It’s not something to joke about Mingi! San could have died!”

 Mingi’s only response was to roll his eyes at the silver haired boy, settling down in his spot at the table, “Please Woo. Don’t be dramatic.”

 “Yeah” Yunho agreed, pouring a glass of water for everyone “Like San would be stupid enough to die from something like that.”

 “That being said” Jongho spoke for the first time, voice hard as ice, looking at the blond with a small amount of contempt “Why didn’t you avoid the rocks?”

 All eyes were on San now who looked at them all innocently. His eyes were wide as he stuffed his cheeks with rice. Minho gave a small laugh as the food piled up in his cheeks, puffing them out like squirrels.  So Jisung isn’t the only one who does that huh….

 As he heard Minho’s quiet laugh, San’s eyes suddenly shifted onto his, his face forming into a smirk, winking at the older. “What can I say?” he said lightly, swallowing the food in his mouth. “Maybe I wanted Minho to hurt me…. I’ve got certain kink you kn-”

 His words were cut off as Wooyoung took a single fist and smashed it into the blonds head.

 It was quiet for a moment before San suddenly cradled his head, crying out in pain and rolling on the ground behind him. Mingi laughed out loud while Wooyoung glared at the crying boy. 

 “You all are so noisy” Minho’s ears perked as he heard a familiar voice cut through the tabel.His eyes turned over to see Hongjoong walking up, the tall figure of Seonghwa right behind him. 

 Minho gulped seeing the dark haired boy again. He was just as beautiful as before, and the aura he radiated off of him was just as deadly. But to his relief, Seonghwa seemed to be ignoring him and that was fine by him.

 “HyunggggG!” San whined, looking up at the two like they were his parents “Wooyoung hit me!”

 “Yeah cause you can’t keep it in your pants for 5 fucking seconds!” he hissed back. 

 The noise was started to cause a scene and Minho spotted multiple eyes now on them. Hongjoong must have noticed too because he rubbed his palm in his face, looking down in annoyance. 

 “This is why I can’t take you guys anywhere…”  Hongjoong then noticed Chan’s presence next to him and he looked up, suspicion in his eyes.

 “Chan” he said coolly. “I didn’t know you would be joining us.”

 Chan smiled, face still unreadable as he bowed in respect “Sorry for surprising you. San invited us. I hope it isn’t inconvenient.”

 Minho caught Seunghwa’s glare at their leader but kept his mouth shut. Hongjoong waved his hand, settling down on the floor. “No. No. Just a surprise, we will have a full table tonight.”

 “Who else is coming?” Jisung pipped up, motioning towards the opened seat next to Mingi. Hongjoong’s head turned slightly to look and then looked back, eyes shining brighter than Minho had seen since coming here. “Yeosang.”

 At the sound of the name, Yunho’s head snapped up from the drink in his hand, and Minho didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up in mild happiness. “You mean he is coming?”

 Hongjoong smiled at the younger, nodding his head “All the spies currently working in the field have been called back for a meeting by Zico. Yeosang should be here in a little bit.”

 “Huzah!” San yelled, raising his glass in celebration. 

 Yunho sighed happily and Mingi did his own clap of excitement. All the other remaining members held a small smile on their face. When Yunho noticed the look of confusion on the outsider’s faces he laughed apologetically.

 “Sorry” he chuckled “I guess we should fill you guys in. Yeosang is the last member of our group here. He is one of the best spies The Under has, and he is often traveling above ground on missions...so we don’t get to see him much.”

 “The last time we saw him was nearly 3 months ago” Wooyoung mused, almost sad.

 “Make use of his time” Seonghwa interjected, almost scolding them like a mother “We don’t know how long he will be back so make it worthwhile.”

 “Sir yes sir!” the group hollowed.

The table fell into their own little groups as dinner arrived. Chan was talking enthusiastically to Mingi about some stupid thing Felix once did, while San, Wooyoung and Jongho were having their own private conversation-mostly scolding San about losing in a fight with Minho. 

 Minho himself was having a rather pleasant conversation with Yunho, with Jisung stuck in the middle. 

 Even Seonghwa seemed mildly interested in Chan’s story as evident of his wandering eye towards the two.

 The only one who didn’t seem to be enjoying themselves was Hongjoong, who was frowning down at his full plate.

 “So have you guys always been together?” Minho asked the brown headed doctor, mouth full of food “I know Woojin hyung said he found you guys together but was that always the case? You guys don’t look related.”

 This earned a hearty laugh from the doctor and he shook his head in response. “Goodness no. Me related to them? I mean have you seen Mingi?”

 “What about me?” the gruff boy voiced over.

 But Yunho ignored him, looking almost sheepish at Minho “This may sound weird or stupid, but I don’t remember any of my childhood before i met them so I don’t really know where I came from. And actually…” he paused, looking around at the table “None of us do.”

 Minho’s eyes widened as he felt a familiar sensation in the pit of his stomach.  Just like me…

 “None of you do?”

 Yunho shook his head, a look of mild sadness on his face. “From as far back as we can remember, we have been together, but we know we know there was a time before where we were not together….”

 Jisung who was enjoying the conversation silently, swallowed the bit of food in his mouth, eyes narrowing slightly. “But if you don’t remember anything, how can you know that?”

 Yunho smiled again, but this time it was more guilty than anything. “Actually it’s just a hunch but also there is Yeosang….”

 “Yeosangie has something that none of us do.”

 Jisung tilted his head in confusion “What does he have?”

 Yunho took his arm and placed a hand on the back of his shoulder “He has a tattoo right here. He doesn’t remember getting it, nor what it means. But even if he did, I don’t think he would talk about it….” there was something in Yunho’s voice that made for a melancholy mood. His eyes casted downwards towards his nearly empty plate and chewed the bottom of his lip. “I don’t even think he is aware that he does this, but occasionally he takes his hand and touches it...his eyes would get so sad...like the memory is trying to surface, but the sadness it holds is enough to cause him excruciating pain.”

 Minho looked down at his plate, realizing his own appetite was gone. There was something about their group wide memory loss that was really causing him distress. His stomach churned and he quickly excused himself, rushing outside before anyone could stop him. 

 The city lights blurred his eyes as he felt his breathing going ragged. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. But what?

  Calm down Minho!  

 He mentally cursed himself while trying to regain control of his breathing again. What set him off so suddenly? Was it Yunho admitting about the memory loss? That doesn;t make anysense…..sure Minho also suffered from his own intense memory loss. He could relate to the group suddenly more now, his own childhood lost in his memories. But that was nothing more than coincidence.  Right?

 But before he could explore these thoughts, he was interrupted by a hand being placed on his shoulder in a form of comfort. Minho, still trying to calm down, only reached back and placed his hand on top of the foreign hand, rubbing it as a form of gratitude.

 He stayed like that for another minute before letting out one more ragged breath and straightening back up. 

 “You okay?”

 Minho closed his eyes, hearing Jisung’s quiet, soothing voice near his ear. He nodded once but refused to turn around, afraid to. “I’ll be okay….” he admitted.

 “You nearly scared half the people in there.” Jisung jokenly scolded “You rushed out so fast, they thought they were under attack.”

 Minho let out a quiet laugh, appreciative at the younger's attempts to take his mind away from the problem at hand.

 “I’ll have to apologize when I go back in…” he quipped back.

 He heard light footsteps and felt Jisung brush up against his side, making his way to stand next to him. Neither of them looked at each other, and chose to stare at the city lights instead.

 “What was it?” the younger finally asked, voice small and quiet. Minho squeezed his eyes shut, knowing what he was getting at.

 “I don’t know…”

  Liar

 “Hyung” Jisung said,obviously not believing him. 

 Minho let out a long sigh, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to say something, but found no sound behind his voice. 

 He was ashamed.

 But for what reason? His memory loss wasn’t his fault. He didn’t willingly wipe his memories away. 

 This was nothing to be ashamed of.

 So why did he?

 When Minho opened his mouth again, he let out a muffled cry, like he was admitting to a serious crime.

 “There is something I haven't shared with the group yet….” he confessed.

 He paused, expecting an immediate reaction from Jisung. But when he got none, and only felt the younger brush up against his arm he stumbled on his confession. “I don’t have many memories that I remember. I remember working at the plant. I remember becoming friends with Hyunjae. I remember Grandma Yoo taking care of us, but that has all been within the last 8 years….”

Minho looked to his side, teary gaze locking onto Jisung’s unreadable ones. “I have no memory of my parents, nor where I came from. The only reason I knew my name was Minho was because I found an ID with my face on it…” he paused, feeling his voice pick back up and his breathing laboring in his rant. 

 Jisung took his hand and squeezed his shoulder tight, pulling Minho into a tight hug. “It’s okay hyung” he murmured quietly. “Your memory loss isn’t your fault.”

 Minho hiccuped, taking solace in Jisung’s tight hug “I know but... ” he trailed off, the fear taking over. “What if it's more than just a coincidence? What if The Ord-”

 DRIIIIING DRIIIIING DRIIIIING

 He nearly jumped out of his skin as a loud alarm rang through the entire city, red sirens flashing all around them. Jisung seemed taken off guard as well as they broke apart to look down at the downtown area. 

 “Whats happening?” Minho had to somewhat yell out over the loud sirens.

 “It’s the city alarm system.” Hongjoong’s voice sounded on his other side, walking out from the shack. The others followed him outside and Minho caught Chan’s gaze who seemed fearful but not surprised. 

 “What does it mean?” 

 As if on cue, the sirens suddenly stopped and were replaced with a familiar cool voice that made the hairs on Minho’s neck stand up.

 “Hello citizens of The Under” Zico’s voice filled the entire clearing and Minho nearly had to cover his ears in response. “I have some unsettling news…” the man continued “Right as we speak, enemies of our beautiful city are moving against us. Their armies have infiltrated the tunnels and plan to strike us with their high tech assault weapons.”

 There were a few screams heard nearby as people took in their leaders' words. But Minho and the entire group stood still, listening intently. 

 “I have dispatched guards to fend them off, but for your safety, we need everyone to evacuate to the center of the city asap-”

 “What is he saying?!” Hongjoong growled.

 “I will be with the fighting force” Zico continued “But you will be in good hands there. Remember everyone, the safest place you can be is in the innermost part of the city. I won’t let anyone past the gates. The Under is my life, and the people are its future. Until we meet again.”

 And suddenly, just like that, his voice was gone. The red hue from the sirens remained, but now all that could be heard was the panicked screams of the people who began rushing around heeding their leader's words. Only Minho, Chan, Jisung and the entirety of Hongjoong’s group stayed still, including San. They seemed to be digesting their leader's words to figure out their next steps. San was the first to make movement, heading towards the stairs that led to the inner city.

 “San wait!” Chan yelled, causing the younger to stall. 

 Chan turned back towards Hongjoong, his eyes hard as steel. “Hongjoong”

 Minho gulped realizing the situation they were currently in. Something wasn’t adding up and it all pointed towards Zico.

 “What is he thinking?!” Seonghwa growled out loud “The center of the city? That is the worst place to evacuate to!”

 “That's because it is a trap” Chan interjected, his eyes not leaving Hongjoong’s frozen body.

 “Hyung” Jisung tried to warn, wanting him to stop.

 “Watch your tongue rat” San suddenly hissed with venom. “He is our leader!”

 Chan starred evenly back at San, his gaze cold and calm. “He sold you out.” He pulled on Hongjoongs arms, forcing the red headed leader to break out of trance. “Tell them Hongjoong.” He challenged “Something tells me you already suspected him of that.”

 The clearing was quiet, all 9 of them there looking towards the one singular Hongjoong who finally after a few more moments let out a long, exhausted sigh, his fierce expression from before long gone now in the presence of strangers. “A few days before you guys got here, I caught Zico having a private meeting with someone.”

 There were small gasps that came from Mingi and Yunho, while Jongho’s eyes widened slightly. Only San seemed unaffected by the news, his gaze cold as ice as he stared at Hongjoong.

 “Who?” Chan asked, but Hongjoong shook his head, looking out to the city below. 

 “Zico claimed he was an outer spy of ours, but I had never seen him before in all my years here. And the way he talked to Zico….it was no way to talk to your boss…”

  Hongjoong paused, casting a look out at the horrified faces-his eyes landed on San’s cold ones and he gave the younger a look of pleading sympathy.

 “He was trying to convince Zico to take some sort of deal. One that only benefited himself….”

 “No” San spat, disregarding his claims. “You’re lying”

 “San.” Seonghwa started “This is Hongjoong we are talking about here he would neve-” the elder was cut off as Chan’s voice rang loud and clear over the sirens.

 “Zico betrayed you all.” he growled harshly at the thief “The quicker you accept that, the easier this next step will be.

 “Quiet rat!” San spat back, taking stance “One more word out of you, and I’ll kill you. I don’t care what the rumors say…”

 The clearing went cold. Neither side made a move as San and Chan glared each other down evenly. 

Jisung wasted no time after San’s  very real  threat in marching between the two, his eyes hard as steel as he glared at San. 

 “You’ll have to get through me  first. ” 

 San turned his ice cold gaze on Jisung and Minho felt his stomach drop.

 “San!” Seonghwa barked “Stand down!”

 But to Minho’s dismay, the blond refused, pulling out his two daggers. Jisung mimicked the action by pulling out his own cuffs, electricity shooting out in waves almost immediately. Minho’s heart felt like it was about to burst, his earlier anxiety now gone and replaced with the stress of their current situation. No one seemed to want to stop the imposing forces, not even Chan, who was having an intense staring match with Hoongjong. All the meanwhile, the red hue from the sirens continued to flash all around.

 Minho looked to Seonghwa, who seemed just as tense, but as they locked eyes, was relieved to find a similar sense of panic in them.

  This was not the time to be fighting each other. Seonghwa gets that.

 Minho opened his mouth, ready to say whatever necessary to quell the two fighters. But before he could get a single sound out, a new voice sounded from behind him, one he did not recognize.

 “Stand down San. They are telling the truth.”

 All heads spun around to look at the incoming newcomer, his ash blond hair growing past his ears, all messy bedhead like. His face remained calm and neutral, but Minho could tell from his eyes that the stranger was looking past Minho and them to stare straight at San as a sort of warning. 

 “Yeosang” Yunho breathed.

[blog-sliverofjade]

Of Doms & Subs 4: Bribery Will Get You Everywhere

Pairing: Angus Hopper x OFC

Summary:  What's a submissive female to do when she fights her nature and goes on the run as a Lone wolf to avoid being assimilated into a pack?

Word count: 2315

Of Doms & Subs Master List

Sleeping in was something I used to enjoy.  Nestled in warm sheets while the world outside continued to turn, safe in a cozy cocoon.  After the Change, it was no longer so peaceful.  Although the house was decently soundproofed for humans, I could hear water running as someone showered.  The buzz of an electric razor.  Clinking of dishes in the kitchen.  After ten minutes of hiding with a pillow over my head, I gave up and burrowed out of the nest of blankets.  I was just pulling my shirt on when Mickayla knocked.  A thrill of pride ran through me for recognizing her scent.  I was getting better at this!

“Mornin’,” I called out and she came in at the tone of invitation in my greeting.

“How was your little adventure last night?” she grinned.

“Mortifying,” I grumped while tugging a brush through my hair.

“So if I tell you that there’s a betting pool on when you’d make a break for it we can see if werewolves die of embarrassment?”  Her grin deepened to flash a lot of pretty, white teeth.

“How about you give me a cut and I don’t throw my dirty, wet socks in your face?”  I started to reach for the duffel full of dirty clothes.  She laughed and handed me a couple of bills, which I stuffed into a pocket without counting.  “Next time let me know, I’m not above taking a fall.”

“There’s going to be a next time?”  A perfectly plucked eyebrow rose.

“Eugene and Seattle aren’t all that far.”  I turned away to wrestle my hair into a ponytail.  One look in the mirror confirmed that there was no hiding the marks from Angus’ bite, so might as well own it.  “I’m sure I could get a babysitter to come with.”  There, that barely had any bitterness to it.

“Don’t think of it that way,” she shook her head so that the blonde waves swayed back and forth.  “Think of it more like sexy bodyguards.”  I laughed in spite of myself.  “Speaking of which.”  There was a glint in her sea-blue eyes that suddenly made me very suspicious.  “You’ll want to swear off humans for awhile until you get used to your new strength.  Don’t want to break your toys.”

I stared at her in confusion until comprehension crashed over me, immediately followed by a furious blush.  “That is certainly not an issue.  Happily single since the divorce became final last year.”

“Ah,” said Mickayla knowingly, and I belatedly remembered with no small amount of chagrin that she was a therapist.  “That’s why you’re so determined to not get involved with a pack.  Too much commitment.”

“Ugh, it’s too early for psychoanalysis,” I groaned, rubbing at my face.

“Come on, cranky pants, let’s get you some breakfast.  New wolves are kinda like kids.  If they’re cranky, do they need food or sleep?  Antsy?  Then they need to go run off some energy.”  She linked her arm and in mine as we set off for the kitchen.

“Gee, thanks for that glowing comparison,” I said snidely.

“And in your case, maybe caffeine.”

“Give me tea and nobody gets hurt,” I pronounced solemnly.

“Threatening bodily harm before nine am, are you sure she’s submissive?” asked a man who had come out of a room behind us, also evidently on the hunt for breakfast.

“Watch this.”  Mickayla fixed me with a glare and before I even knew it my neck bent against my will till my throat was bared to her.  And she hadn’t even drawn on any power.  I glared at her from the corner of my eye and my face grew flaming hot.

“I wanna try,” he said.  I met his dark brown eyes with no small amount of anger that he thought he could control me so easily.  “How?  I’m more dominant than you,” he sputtered at Mickayla in confusion.  She laughed and wrapped an arm around each of our shoulders.

“She doesn’t know or respect you, Brian.  Neither her or her wolf are gonna roll over for some stranger unless he seriously pulls rank.  Do you think Alan would for just any old wolf?” she asked the somewhat forlorn wolf.

“Who’s Alan?”  At the stairs, Mickayla released us and led the way down with Brian in back so that I was sandwiched between them.  It seemed automatic, like their instincts to protect subtly guided their movements.

“Our submissive and resident quack,” Brian answered.  I automatically started to bristle at labeling any healer with such an epithet.  That thought was pushed out when it occurred to me that if they had both a submissive and a female, then they probably had no need of another.

“I’d like to see you call him that the next time he has to patch you up,” she said dryly.

The kitchen was sized and equipped to feed a small army.  Come to think of it, was there any difference between that and a pack?  People moved in vaguely organized chaos, piling plates with bacon, sausage, eggs, hashbrowns, and various baked goods before moving to the dining room on the far side.  Mickayla reached around someone, who was busy wrestling the Danish that he wanted from the rest of the basket, grabbed two plates and handed one to me.  Being small meant I could easily dart around and through people to get in and out quickly, but I had no idea what the protocol was for seating arrangements so I stuck close to Mickayla and Matt, who’d joined us.

I had never seen a dining table so big, at least a dozen people were already sitting and there was room for more.  It was obviously custom made.  The kitchen also had a table that was pushed up against the main one so that everyone could be seated.  I gave Mickayla raised eyebrows in question.

“You get our fearless leader’s right hand side.  Normally that’s Tom’s, Angus’ second, but since he’s not here you get it as our honoured guest,” she said with only a hint of teasing.  I gave her a grateful look before taking the seat in question.  I stifled my surprise when she and Matt sat to my left.  Evidently they were high in the hierarchy to sit next to the second, which I thought was a silly term when Beta would have made much more sense.

“Shane and Matt will be ready to hit the road by 10:30,” Angus said casually after I’d made some headway into my meal, trying my best to ignore him.  Why he thought I’d be safer with two strange werewolves than on my own, I would never understand.  But Matt couldn’t be all bad if Mickayla had married him.

“So soon?” I asked just as casually as I liberally doused my hashbrowns with salt and pepper.  “I thought I might stick around and get to know ya’ll better.  If I have to give up my job, there’s not much of a reason to go back to Oregon right away.  Unless that would be an issue?”  Put two or more intelligent beings in a room together and politics could spontaneously erupt in a vacuum.  Visiting a pack in another state before even meeting the one back home could potentially cause more than an eruption.

The room went eerily silent as the others waited to see what their Alpha would say.  Most of them seemed to be mildly surprised and curious.  I was pretty sure they had all noticed the mark on my neck, but no one had said anything nor given it a second glance.  Despite the weird fluttery feeling of fear in my chest, I managed to actually look him in the face.  Not the eye, of course, but his strong chin, which was one of his few physical aspects that said Alpha.  Maybe that was because I always had trouble seeing men with weak chins as dominant.

“The Eugene Pack was hard-pressed to welcome you on such short notice, so no feathers will be ruffled.  And despite what that crazy lone wolf might have put in your head, you are free to travel.”  He gave a small smile that eased some of the tension that had somehow crept into my shoulders.  I was no Helen of Troy, but the apparent rarity of submissive females and the territoriality of werewolves could create a powder keg waiting to go off.  As much as I enjoyed yanking his chain, any fallout could affect both packs and they didn’t deserve that.

Mickayla made a “gimme” gesture at Brian, who sat a few seats down from her.  He sighed and handed her a twenty-dollar bill.  “Haven’t you learned not to bet against my mate yet?” Matt shook his head.

“Hey, didn’t she only go out with you because of a bet?” Brian retorted.

“Yeah, and even though I won, I still ended up losing,” Mickayla said with mock ruefulness.  The banter and round of chuckles said that it was an old joke.

“Speaking of sore losers,” I said to her with a pointed look, “I have some wet, dirty socks in dire need of a wash if there’s a washing machine I could use?”

“I’ll show you where we keep our poor beleaguered beast chained up in the basement,” Shane offered as he stood up with his empty plate.  I followed suit since I was done as well.  Mickayla surreptitiously slipped me a tenner as I passed, which immediately went into my back pocket.

“Don’t scare the poor girl!” someone called out.

“Eh, she’s seen your face and it hasn’t run her off yet.”  The teasing faded only slightly as I tagged along behind Shane.

“O captain, my captain,” Mickayla said without a trace of mockery.  There never was with her.  “If I may beg an audience?”  I nodded with a small smile that conveyed exactly what I thought of her false formality.

“Since it’s our duty to woo the new girl, some of us were thinking of showing her around town,” Mickayla said once we were ensconced in my office.  I had a suspicion that the others she was thinking of had no inkling of their implication in her plotting yet.

“Considering how she navigated rush hour traffic to evade Tom, I’d say she knows the area pretty well.”  Neither the wolf nor I liked the idea of Ellie leaving our sight.  I propped one hip on my desk without a care that it put my head slightly lower than if I were standing.  Like most of my wolves, she was taller than me anyway and she had never been anything other than proper.  Oh sure, she would skirt the bounds of propriety when the situation allowed for it, but never in a manner that would call my authority into question.

“It might be good for her to get out and see that we’re not as draconian as that John made us out to be.”  Translation: prove to her she’s not going to lose all of her freedom or she’ll bolt again.

“If you are going to manipulate me, you’re going to have to do a better job than that.”  While her point was valid, I was not about to let her think I would cave so easily.

“You can talk at her until you’re blue in the face, but she won’t understand the benefits of a pack until she sees it,” said Mickayla.  “She’s only staying because the evil that you know is better and partly to tweak your tail.”  I raised an eyebrow at that observation.  “Ellie’s a modern woman suddenly thrown into submissive wolf mentality and those instincts scare the daylight out of her.  So she’s going to make us all work for it before she settles down.”

“Dominance is dictated by a person’s nature before the Change,” I shook my head.  “She’s submissive because she was as a human.”

“I think her ex-husband did a number on her, or maybe John, or both,” she said with a small frown, which I mirrored at the thought of what might have happened to her.  “That’s why she’s so prickly with any male who tries to play power games with her, like verbally bitch-slapping the guys last night.  If she can relax where there aren’t so many wolves, she might tell me more.”

“What do you have in mind?” I asked after regarding her thoughtfully for several beats.  Part of that time was spent contemplating tearing apart Ellie’s ex.

“Hit Pike’s Place until she realizes she’s not ready for so much public.  One or two of us should be able to help her keep control.”  Mickayla’s smile was far too predatory to belong on the face of a therapist.

“One of the biggest tourist traps on a three-day weekend?” I asked in disbelief and gave her the look that idea deserved.

“She still thinks of herself as human and she’s likely to screw up pretty badly until she sees that.  The sooner we get that out of the way, the sooner she might calm down,” she pointed out.

“Take Matt and Shane with you,” I sighed and waved at her to go.  Not only were they good muscle, but they were both married, even if Shane’s wife was human.

“Technically this is pack business, especially since she would work well with Alan, both as a medic and a sub.”  If she’d said anyone other than Alan, my hackles would’ve gone up.  Their temperaments, although both being submissive, weren’t suited for mating.  And I got the feeling that Ellie liked her men dominant, despite what she may say.  I affected a much put-upon sigh, drew out my wallet, selected a credit card, and passed it to the blonde.  She accepted it with both hands, kissed the simple ring on my middle finger, then flashed a smile and a wink before dashing off to find her charge.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Storybrooke, Maine

Chapter 7:  Games

He took the sword back to his shop. He put it into a nice case, something to assure it couldn't be so easily stolen again, and then he sat in the back and waited. He waited, and he stared. He waited, and he pulled out the potion he'd mixed for himself. He waited and pondered whether or not he should take it. He waited and concluded that whether or not he should take it depended on what happened next.

He wasn't magical here, he couldn't use a mirror or a cauldron to see what was happening, and he couldn't use a crystal ball to see what had happened, and he couldn't use the Seer to see what would happen. Here, he had to use his own intellect. He had to go with what he knew. With Snow White and David awake, the future was uncertain. Until he was certain this problem was fixed, he couldn't put himself under again. And he was confident that he would know when and if it was.

Regina. She was paranoid. He'd heard Snow say that she was on to them in the forest. If they got away or took the potion and stayed, he felt certain that she'd come to him either way. There was no need to watch the news for answers; she'd bring it right to him. He was confident…but that didn't mean that waiting for that moment was any better. By the time he finally heard the bell to his store chime, he was ready to jump out of his own skin. He wanted to sigh with relief when he saw it was Regina, but instead, he kept a straight face. He didn't want her to know that he was awake. For this encounter, he had to be sure he wore the mask of Mr. Gold and not Rumpelstiltskin.

"Well…I thought you'd at least have the sense to hide out in your cabin."

"Excuse me?" he asked innocently enough. Fortunately, he'd played Mr. Gold for so long it barely took a thought to summon him forth.

"Don't play dumb with me!" Regina yelled, striding toward him. "You know everything about this town, cursed or not, and I refuse to believe you haven't a clue what's been going on today! This sort of thing reeks of you!"

"Madam Mayor…" he chuckled to himself. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, but considering my work here, I think you'll find I'm quite ignorant of whatever event you are speaking of. Tell me…what have I missed?"

She stared him down, her eyes looking for a lie, but he was older than her and had been lying since before she was born. She'd find nothing in his stare. "A John Doe escaped from the hospital this morning," she spat out quickly. "He'd been in a coma for as long as the doctors can remember. We've been searching for him all day!"

"Well, that is a lovely story of recovery, but it seems to me that he might be in search of his family and not a pawnbroker. I do hope you find him, though."

"We have," she answered. "Mary Margaret located him in the woods. By then, he'd fallen back into a coma. We only just barely got him back to the hospital in time to save his life."

His heartbeat raced. Found in the woods…they hadn't gone through with it. They were still here, David was still in a coma and Snow…Mary Margaret...

"Ah…then it seems to me you should be speaking to his doctors or better yet Ms. Blanchard to see if he revealed a name before she found him."

"Enough with the lies!" Regina yelled, fumbling for something in her pocket. She stepped up close to show it to him. It was a vial. It was the vial! It was the vial he'd put the potion into. It was empty. Snow and David had taken it. All was as it should be…nearly.

"That's mine!" he breathed, faking surprise as he plucked it from her fingers. "That's part of my collection, but it's been in the back. It's not for sale until I can have it cleaned. How did you get it?"

Regina scoffed. "Like you don't know."

He didn't have to play the part, something deep in his chest, Mr. Gold, he suspected, didn't like the disrespect she was showing. It was easy enough to work with.

"Madam Mayor, I assure you this vial is part of my alchemical collection from the 1560s. It's worth…hundreds of dollars, even without the rest of the collection. I wouldn't let it out of my sight."

"Then how did it end up outside, today, of all days."

"I have no idea. I was here all day."

"All day."

"Except…"

"Except?"

"When I left for lunch."

Regina smiled like a cat who had just captured a very tasty mouse. "Granny's was closed today," she pointed out. "Everyone was searching, including her."

"Which is why I had to eat lunch at home," he explained easily. "I wasn't sure why she was closed, so I just went home, made myself a sandwich, spent perhaps a bit too much time reading the paper. He must have stopped in then."

She crossed her arms in front of her in frustration. That was good. When she'd first walked in here, she was convinced he had his memories, and now she was starting to doubt herself. It was all a lie, but lying was second nature not only to him...but to Gold as well. Mr. Gold knew as well as he did that the best way to get away with a lie was to be confident in it, to believe the lie was the truth. He really was himself and Gold. How fortunate and startling all at once.

"Did you forget to lock your shop?" Regina questioned, trying to find holes in his story. There would be none.

"I never forget to lock the shop."

"Did your shop appear broken into?"

"Not to my eyes, but then, I'm not a detective, Regina. We'd need your bedmate for that."

"What are you talking about?" Her arms fell, and her face dropped at that particular comment. That was exactly what he'd wanted to happen.

"I think we both know what I'm talking about, Regina. You and your sheriff...quite the lone wolf that one, I doubt he'll ever really settle down."

He smiled as Regina watched him carefully. Now that she was starting to believe him, he had to admit he'd thrown that quip about him being a lone wolf in just for the fun of it. And he was about to have some more. There was no magic in this world for him to use, not on his own. But Storybrooke was a town made of magic that had been carefully woven together like firm strands of thread into fabric long before they'd arrived. That's why he was so certain what he was about to say would work, even if he didn't have his powers at the moment.

"Now, the day's nearly done, and I have work to do," he explained, pocketing the vial. "So if there's nothing else you have to report to me, Madam Mayor, then you'll excuse me…please."

He smirked perhaps a little bit more than he wanted to on that, but it was impossible not to as Regina's eyes went round as saucers, and she looked like she'd been slapped. He liked this. He enjoyed this game of keeping her in a state of confusion over what he knew and didn't know. But sadly, as she turned on her heel and left, he acknowledged that it was the last time he'd play the game for a while.

Things were as they should be. He'd been holding off on taking that potion for himself until he knew for certain they were right. Now he knew. And yes, he could stay awake as he was now. He could continue to keep Regina in a constant state of "is he or isn't he"…but eighteen years was an awfully long time to wait, an awfully long time to play a game that would only be mildly interesting. Years ago, he'd seen what happened as Regina cracked. The only one in the town with memories made it a prison. Having false memories, being under the Curse…it was easy compared to that. It really was just like living in a dream. It was lonely, the world always would be without Belle or Baelfire, but he'd rather live the next eighteen years of his life in a lonely dream than counting down the days until Emma's birthday. He'd rather grow angry and irate every day at the sight of the broken down library across the street than be reminded of Belle when he looked at it. He'd rather Baelfire's old ball just be a ball rather than a memory of his son.

There was no question in his mind. He was going to put himself under again. And in eighteen years, he'd wake up, and he'd meet the Savior, get her to break the Curse, and play the game with Regina all over again. But until then…

He put the empty vial back in his black bag and put it away, as it had been, then he wandered back out to the place he'd been when David burst in…no, he couldn't do it this way. David had burst in nearly first thing that morning. It was afternoon now. What would Gold think when so much time had passed? It wouldn't be the first time Mr. Gold had worked through lunch, but the missing hours were too much. He sighed as he got down onto the floor. He had memories of David with the sword. Now the sword was in a different place. He'd let Mr. Gold think that he'd been assaulted and knocked out and was only just now waking up; ironic when he was about to go to sleep and re-enter the dream. He only hoped that Gold did nothing to make Regina even more suspicious of what had happened today.

Laying on the floor, he gripped the potion tight, summoned up images of Belle and Bae, his two favorite people in the world, then closed his eyes and swallowed the potion. His last act was to toss the vial far away from him so that Mr. Gold would never suspect-

Something shattered far away. He was on the floor, laying on his left side, his cane still in his hand. How had he gotten to the floor? He sat up slowly and looked around. His eyes landed on the windows, the shadows outside…that wasn't the way it had looked before…before…

His last memory was the man he had told to get out of his shop, heading for the door. He must have gone, but…he'd grabbed a sword and…

His eyes went to the umbrella stand. No sword. No strange man. He must have…he must have come after him. The man had been angry or frustrated; it was hard to remember. But he'd been crazy; he remembered that much. After he turned to leave…they must have had some kind of altercation. Maybe he'd hit him? He didn't feel sore anywhere, but he preferred to think that over the scenario where he fainted like some kind of damsel. If he'd hit him, it would have knocked him out for several hours; that would have been why the shadows resembled later afternoon rather than early morning.

He listened carefully, suddenly wondering if the man could be in the back. Perhaps that was the sound of glass breaking he'd heard. But there were no sounds from anywhere. He was alone. Truly alone. He used his cane to get to his feet and shuffled into the back to find what had fallen and broken. He had to call the police and report an incident; the sooner, the better.

He had work to do.

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

The Queen’s Jealousy

So, Moonjumper's kinda a thing. There's a fanon thing going around where he's The Prince's body based off how he's dressed making it seem like the devs possibly intended for him to be The Prince before they decided to remove him from the game. So that's where this idea came from.

Also, I call The Prince 'Lukas' in this fic because I've read a couple fics where he was called 'Lucas' due to that being the name of Snatcher's voice actor. I like the name so I decided to just go with it and spell it with a 'k' instead because I prefer that spelling.

*

Vanessa was upset again; Lukas was spending too much time focusing on his studies. He was maybe spending more time on them than was strictly necessary because he didn’t want to spend time with her but it was important. It was his passion and since he was going to marry her one day, making him King someday as well, he needed to know this stuff.

That didn’t mean he didn’t love her, of course not. She was the… love of his life. He would make it up to her… one day. For now, he’d just get her another bouquet of flowers and pray it placated her for at least as long as his break from his lessons lasted.

Which was what brought him to the marketplace. A pretty young redhead manned the flower stall, possibly the daughter of the man who normally ran it? It didn’t matter though, she knew what and where all the flowers he requested for his bouquet were and bundled them up just as prettily.

“Thanks,” he said as he handed over payment, adding a whole extra gold as a tip because he was in a good mood. He took a breath to follow it up with a ‘have a nice day’ but paused at the sound of a familiar gasp of dismay. He glanced over in that direction but the crowds had already closed in, concealing whoever it had been. If it was anyone at all. His ears were probably just playing tricks on him, there were lots of sounds all around him after all.

Lukas turned back to the flower stall attendant. “Have a nice day.”

“You too,” she replied as he started to move away.

 -

He dilly-dallied around the marketplace for a while a longer. He didn’t want to go see Vanessa yet; he was stalling. It had been a while since he’d last had a chance to come here so he was going to enjoy it for a bit longer before returning to his love. But because he’d already bought the flowers – in hindsight he should’ve brought them right before leaving but he hadn’t been planning on staying long – he couldn’t justify staying for much more than an hour. Thus, he quickly found himself knocking on the door to Vanessa’s manor.

The door servant quickly answered it. He was tense, head bowed, and silent which suggested Vanessa was full on angry now, ready to snap at any servant who dared to even mildly inconvenience her. But… she couldn’t be mad at Lukas, right? He hadn’t seen her since that morning when she’d cried about how little time he was spending with her, saying he didn’t love her anymore so what was the point of even existing anymore? She’d then locked herself up in her room, freeing him to head out to get something to placate her with. So it would probably be fine to approach and apologize and assure her that he did love her and always would. Regardless he was already here and seen by one of her servants meaning he had no choice in the matter.

She was in her room, door wide open, sitting on the cushioned seat at the foot of the bed. Back to the door, the rigidity of her posture made it clear that whatever had angered her was still making her furious. Not a good time to approach. He’d retreat, come back later when it was…

“Luke.” He voice was filled with ice. Too late, she’d heard him come in… somehow.

“Uh… hey Vanessa.” The quiver in his voice made him angry with himself. He sounded like a sniveling coward.

“How could you?”

“How could I what?” He hadn’t done anything? Why was she mad him now? He’d brought her flowers for fuck’s sake.

“You know what you did.”

“Actually no, I…”

“Guards,” she interrupted. “Lock him up.”

Armor clanking, the guards standing watch outside of her room stepped in. Before Lukas could process what was happening, they grabbed him under the arms and started dragging him away.

“Vanessa, wait! You can’t do this! Let me go!”

But his pleas fell on deaf ears, she didn’t even turn to look at him as her guards dragged him away, too strong to be bothered by his struggles.

They brought him to the cellar, to the back. One guard pushed him up against the wall while the other two put shackles around his upper arms. They then stepped back.

Lukas let out an undignified yelp of pain as suddenly all his weight was put on his shoulders; his feet were a good foot or so off the ground. “Wait,” he said as the guards started leaving. “You can’t do this to me! How long are you going to leave me here?”

They didn’t answer and soon he was alone in the dark.

He grunted as he lifted his feet and pressed them flat against the stone wall behind him. If he could just get some weight off the chains holding him up… but it was no use. He gave up after a few minutes.

Vanessa was just having an especially bad fit for some reason. She’d release him soon and would then apologize profusely and then tell him much she loved him and was nothing without him and was trash for hurting him, just like she’d done on the rare occasions she’d slapped or actually hit him with a thrown object. And then she’d go back to being sweet and loving… until he did something else to upset her.

 -

Hours passed. An unnatural cold settled in, chilling him to the bone. The pain in his shoulders built steadily. Every move he made, to shift or in a desperate attempt to find a way to alleviate it, made it worse. It was the most excruciating pain he’d ever felt.

Never again! He was done with Vanessa. This was going too far. He was going to end it as soon as she freed him. … Hopefully that would be soon.

 -

It wasn’t. Time dragged as sleep alluded him. Hunger and thirst set in as the pain in his shoulders peaked, becoming a constant misery that could almost be ignored. At some point, he wet himself, adding shame to his suffering. His hate grew too, rivaled only by exhaustion. The cold seemed to grow as well, unnaturally, though it was possible it just felt like that too him because he body was weakening.

At some point he passed out, hunger, thirst, and sheer exhaustion finally over overpowering the pain and suffering enough to allow him sweet blissful unawareness. He was awoken by the scuffing of feet on the stairs.

He looked up but it was too dark to see and they weren’t here yet. But a person meant salvation… right? His torment was over? … Right? He’d do anything for that to be the case.

Finally, a small light came around the corner. A candle flame, held I someone’s hands. Even that was enough to make it feel like daggers in his light deprived eyes.

“I did it, Luke.” It was Vanessa. There was an odd quality to her voice that hadn’t been there before. It sent chills down Lukas’ spine even as her mere presence filled him with rage. “There’s no one to bother us anymore my love. They’re all frozen solid, especially that wretched flower girl and your whore of a teacher. They can’t tempt you away from me anymore, no one can.”

Lukas was finally able to open his eyes and look at her. She looked… different; her clothing tattered, her hair a mess, an odd discomforting glint in her eyes – were they glowing slightly red? Surely not, that was just a trick of the candle light… right? There was something else though that Lukas couldn’t place and made him feel almost nauseous to look upon.

“What did you do?” he asked through gritted teeth, his voice rough and painful from lack of use a and a dry throat. She’d mentioned his teacher and the flower girl – why her though? he’d spoken to her once – meaning she’d killed them? Really? She wasn’t that fucked up, was she?

“While you’ve been away with your studies, I’ve been studying some stuff on my own. Magic to be precise. I froze everything and everyone. I shattered your teacher and the girl you cheated on me with. So, it’s just us now. It’s just you and me now, forever. Aren’t you happy?”

“No! What the hell you, crazy bitch?” It couldn’t be true, could it? She couldn’t have killed everyone… right?

The disconcerting smile on Vanessa’s face vanished, replaced with an even worse frown. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want, you’re being a crazy bitch!” Lukas would’ve slapped her if he could. True or not, the words she was saying were awful.

Her frown deepened. “Fine. I was going to let you down but since you clearly have not learned your lesson, I’ll leave you down here for a couple more days.” She snapped around and started walking away.

Lukas took in a breath to tell her to stop and come back to let him down, beg for mercy essentially. He bit back on it though. Anyone other than her and he would’ve without hesitation but he’d rather die than beg for mercy from her.

Despite that resolve and the anger at her words, his heart sunk at the distant sound of the cellar door thumping shut a short while later. He was once more alone with his suffering and the darkness.

 -

“Friend…” a hollow voice pulled him out a doze that wasn’t quite sleep.

He lifted his head to see nothing but the usual darkness. Was he imagining things now too? Just what he needed to add to his misery, insanity.

“Good, you are awake…”

Lukas jerked back up. “Hello? Can you help me?” Whoever or whatever it was it clearly wasn’t Vanessa so… it had to be here to help him, right?

“I can help you and I will if you agree to help me…” Placing the location of the speaker was impossible. It sounded almost like it might just be in Lukas’ mind.

“W-what do you want me to do?” Under different circumstance Lukas wouldn’t have trusted such a voice in a million years but he was desperate. Everything hurt, he was dying of thirst, he needed it to end. “I promise whatever it is I’ll do it as soon as I’m able. Just… please let me down, please.”

“I need a vessel. Yours will do. Let me have it…”

“What does that mean? And… what are you?”

“You can call me Moonjumper.” That didn’t answer the question. “And by ‘vessel’ I mean a body…”

“What?”

“You are going to die anyway. Within the next couple of days if the witch does not come back to free you. So, let me have your body. In return, I will free your ghost. You will be a shadow but you will be free of your shackles…”

“A… a shadow?”

“A powerful ghost but still a ghost so not alive. Do we have a deal?”

Was Lukas crazy for finding that idea appealing? … Yes, without a doubt, it was death that was essentially being offered to him; death with a side of a mysterious entity taking his corpse. But… the alternative was suffering for longer and waiting for Venessa to come back. If what she’d said was true, assuming he lived long enough for her to return, she was going to keep him here with her indefinitely, just the two of them. Surely any fate was better than that so…

“Deal!”

For several seconds there was nothing, not even a sound from Moonjumper, whatever it might be. But then a strong force seemed to tug on Lukas. A nauseating feeling of something ripping accompanied it. It stopped just as suddenly as it had started it. But with it the pain, hunger, and thirst stopped too. It was amazing!

Shaking with relief, he opened his eyes to find he could suddenly see in the dark. Far better than he would’ve liked because he was staring at himself, hanging limp in shackles. It took a bit of the joy of release out of the moment.

Suddenly his body jerked and spasmed, making the chains rattle loudly. Colour drained from its face, fading to grey. Its eyes opened. They were empty, just white, no pupils. “It was a pleasure doing business with you…” the voice came out of it, unchanged other than being a bit louder. Whether that was a blessing since it wasn’t using his voice, or a curse because it was still using his mouth to speak, Lukas couldn’t decide. Before he could respond, it vanished, leaving the chains hanging open and empty.

Lukas shuddered, not from cold though, he barely felt the cold anymore. Maybe giving whatever that thing was his body hadn’t been a good idea. But… he couldn’t find it within himself to care… yet. He might later but for now, he was free and no longer suffering! He couldn’t help but smile for that reason alone, his face felt weird while doing so, like his mouth was stretching up further than should be possible. He didn’t care though. He had to get out of here. First though…

He looked down at himself. His body – ‘form’ was probably a better word for it now – was different. He had no legs but a long tail instead. His arms were long, his hands rounded and strange. He sensed other changes, his face and neck, but without a mirror he couldn’t see them. So, he moved on.

He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. Surely his new form would allow him to traverse along less mundane routes. … How though? … Eh, he’d figured it out later. Getting out and checking on the veracity of Venessa’s claims came first. He did however change course to exit the cellar through the back entrance, leading outside.

He didn’t have the key though so… he’d get to try out his new ghostliness some after all. It was surprisingly easy to slip through the crack between the doors, all he had to do was try. It felt like becoming one with the shadows.

Outside snow had piled up all around the manor. A lot, more than even the deepest of winter should bring. And it was still snowing. Something was wrong; very, very wrong.

He quickly moved on, unbothered by the cold even if he felt it a bit more out here. First, he went to the town. It was frozen over too. Blocks of ice that housed the bodies of residents littered the streets. Outside of town was more and more snow. Finally, he reached the forest. There was snow here too but not as bad, some of it looked to have blown in from the manor. And it wasn’t as cold so given time the now might clear out.

But… everyone was dead. Venessa had been telling the truth. She’d really killed everyone so it’d just be the two of them. … She was a crazy a bitch all right and Lukas never wanted to see her again.

What did he do now though? What could he do? He’d given up his body to an unknown thing and was a shadow, a powerful ghost, according to Moonjumper. What could he do with that power though? Could he destroy Venessa? She clearly had some powerful magic of her own too so could he take her? Did he even really want to try? … No, not really. If he ever saw her face again, even if it was a literal million years from now, it would be too soon. So, unless she came looking for him, he’d leave her to her frozen manor, to wonder its halls alone for the rest of her miserable life, that was a better form of revenge anyway.

What did that leave him with though? … Well, there were the numerous ghosts he’d come across in the frozen town, wondering around lost and confused. Maybe… he could do something for them? He could try anyway. If it worked, he could get them to work for him and together they could try to rebuild something of meaning in the forest, away from the manor and its foul Queen. He’d always wanted to take on a position of leadership and ruling over a bunch of fellow ghosts didn’t sound too bad. This whole death thing might actually be kind of exciting.

[esteliel]

Les Mis - The Staged Concert

Review time!

In case you're going to sit in the grand circle, don't worry - the strange construction of lighting rigs rises up as soon as the music starts, and from the second row side seat I had a good view of basically the entire stage.

I went with a cheap seat since I'm not a fan of Boe & Ball, and, well. Alfie Boe is exactly as he was when I last saw him in the role on Broadway, meaning that he sings it BEAUTIFULLY - truly, technically his Bring Him Home is to die for! - but he's just not much of an actor and I think it's that lack of expression that makes him come across as lowkey pissed off during the entire show. I was wondering if the concert staging would help, because that is basically how he's always sung his big numbers even on Broadway - as if he weren't acting in a show, but singing Who Am I or Bring Him Home contextless in a concert setting. I think it does help a little - thanks to all the cuts/lack of staging, he doesn't get to have aggressive interactions with Cosette, for example - but since everyone else does act, I still really feel the lack of it from him; the artfulness of his singing just stands out a lot more to me. YMMV, of course; his Bring Him Home is so otherworldly beautiful that I'm sure just about every reviewer will give him 5 stars, but I just need more of an emotional presence in addition to the singing to connect with it.

Michael Ball as Javert - oh dear. In basically 90% of his scenes, he's a somewhat hammy, nice Uncle Ball who has decided to dress up as Javert. His Stars wasn't bad, I thought - it was the only time I felt any sort of determination coming from him. Which, given that this is JAVERT he's playing, umm...

His Suicide wasn't terrible either, but again there wasn't much of an emotional connection. I never once had that sensation of being drawn into this emotional maelstrom of despair alongside him - I was just watching Michael Ball pretending to be Javert, instead of watching Javert, if that makes sense.

For those who care about costume details, Ballvert has a ponytail, and he comes out for the sewer scene with his hair loose and a gun in his hand which he points at Valjean. I always like stagings where Javert gets to threaten Valjean with a gun in the sewers but there was just so little emotional turmoil involved here that it didn't do much for me. :(

Furthermore, his recitative parts (and actually large parts of this production) are sung SO SLOWLY that it felt incredibly strange to me. Especially because there are so many cuts of scenes that are vital for the plot/the atmosphere, and yet the songs are slowed down so much that I feel like 30 minutes out of the 2:30 runtime is thanks to the slowness. I wonder, did they slow it down intentionally, or is it because the concert version score is from before they sped up the production...?

Carrie's Fantine left me cold. I was sad about that; her Eponine never did much for me, but surprisingly I REALLY enjoyed her in Heathers. Her Fantine was just... barely there. She was more Carrie on stage than Fantine, which was always how I felt about her Eponine as well. And she couldn't even make the most of her one big moment with I Dreamed A Dream; I don't know, she just seemed quite weak in the lower parts of her song.

Matt Lucas as Thénardier does the same stupid adlibbing that I hate so much about Thénardiers. With the slapstick humor for the Thénardiers that Cammack productions go for I'm usually at least mildly entertained the first time I see someone in the role, and it's only when you see them do the exact same stupid slapstick routine again and again and again that I really start to hate them, but Matt Lucas annoyed me right from the start. The audience LOVED HIM though, he got HUGE applause for basically everything he did and played with the audience, asking for more applause, telling them to stop it, but I really didn't enjoy him at all. And with the concert staging, you can't even focus on the antics of the ensemble during Master of the House, sigh.

Shan Ako as Eponine: her On My Own was lovely, she sang it very well - but I think her character was the one most affected by the concert cuts because I don't think she even gets to do more than just On My Own and then dying in Marius' arms (plus her bit in A Heart Full of Love). There's no young Eponine in the show at all, so we first see her show up in Paris, and I wonder, if I didn't know Les Mis so very well, what I would have made of her as a character?

And the thing is, one of the reasons I love Rob Houchen so much is that he usually has a lot of chemistry with everyone he interacts with, but since in this staged concert version, she has to die standing up while hugged by him, I really didn't get as much emotion out of that scene as even mediocre Eponines can do. Which is a shame, because after her On My Own I really believe she could do a lot more with the show, if the cuts/the concert staging didn't take away most opportunities to do so.

Lily Kerhoas' Cosette is a letdown, she's just very weak throughout; both singing- and acting-wise she really paled next to Marius and Eponine. I wish we could have had Amara in this, who always had SUCH presence on stage. :/

Simon Bowman's Bishop is so lovely! His powerful voice! <3 It's so good to see an actual older Bishop on stage instead of the usual under-30 ensemble member.

And I've been so looking forward to FINALLY seeing Earl Carpenter on a stage again, and he is SO good as Bamatabois - he's clearly really having fun with the role, and he's giving 1000% acting every second he's on, but at the same time this is what makes it really frustrating because argh, to waste Earl on Bamatabois who has 2 minutes on stage? A crime. ;___;

I've already talked about how much I love Rob Houchen, but honestly, everyone knows that I'm not in this fandom for the amis, but the most joy I've felt in this production was at the start of ABC Café when Rob Houchen, Bradley Jaden and Raymond Walsh were on stage together for the first time. That combination is the true dreamcast in this production. My favourite Marius, Enjolras and Grantaire ever. And all of them were so good! <3

Raymond is such a good actor, but again due to the staging he doesn't get to do most of the small amis interaction details that always make him such a joy to watch on stage when I usually dislike most Grantaires, but he makes good use of what opportunities he gets.

Rob is lovely - pretty much the only actor I've ever seen who can imbue the bloodless role of Marius with an endearing, youthful charisma and who usually manages to have beautiful chemistry with his Cosettes. (That he doesn't really this time is the fault of the not very present Cosette, alas.)

He does have great chemistry with Enjolras and Grantaire though, and his Empty Chairs was beautiful.

There were only ever two Enjolras' in my life I have truly, deeply loved - Bradley Jaden and Wallace Smith. It's been so long since Bradley!Enjolras that I was starting to question myself - was he really that good? Was I maybe remembering wrong? Has he maybe aged out of the role now, after his year as Javert?

And then he came onto stage for the first time and I knew that I hadn't remembered wrong at all. He has this incredible stage presence and charisma that draws you in and commands the stage, and where his Javert is weirdly emotional about stars, lol, and incredibly, insanely, fiercely obsessive and emotional about Valjean, his Enjolras hits all the emotions JUST RIGHT. The litmus test for a good Enjolras for me is that he needs to have enough charisma on stage to make you want to join the revolution - there have only ever been two in my life that have pulled that off. He does it so effortlessly, it's incredible, just watching him there on stage being Enjolras with every fibre of his being.

But OMG, the orchestra is GLORIOUS! Getting to hear the score played by 24 musicians for once is such a treat! I haven't heard this show sound so well since I saw it in Austria played by the entire orchestra of Linz's opera house. <3 OMG that string section. There were violin lines and oboe parts that I never even consciously heard before, and I've seen this damn show so often.

Also stage door was CRAZY, but my favourite part of it was that despite the huge, screaming crowd no one but me recogized Claude-Michel Schönberg when he came out of the stage door ahahaha. (He then hugged Raymond Walsh so clearly he has good taste. <3)

Audio to follow later today, once I've had time to track it!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello, what's the most recent fanfiction you've read?

HAHAHAH OKAY SO. I was legit just going to do “Last XX Bookmarked Fics”, but then I checked when I last did this list and it was in November 2017. I usually wait until people ask me this very question before I post them up. After some deliberation… WE’RE DOING ALL the bookmarks I’ve saved since my last one over a year ago! I’ve been reading longer fics lately and RE-READING some faves because I have this thing where if I read ONE fic I don’t enjoy, I go on this huge spree where I re-read a lot of my bookmarks to counter it, hence why I’ve only under 100 bookmarks in over 1 year, LOL. Anyway, enjoy, in word-count order as per usual! These are ALL fantastic reads, so check them all out!!

I-J’s LAST 86 BOOKMARKED FICS (Nov. 2017 to Jan. 2019)

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

New World, Old Words by thedeafwriter (G, 641 w. || Deaf Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Always John) – It was disconcerting to experience. One second, he was laying on the table, breathing in the gas that would make him sleep, the next, he was dragging his eyes open to look around the bright room, trying to wake up.

New Year, New Beginning by DaisyFairy (T, 810 w. || New Year’s Eve, John POV, Post S4, Friends to Lovers) – New Year at a crime scene and John makes a decision.

Bands by dragonQuill907 (T, 1,017 w. || Established Relationship, POV Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock) – “Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it’s regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger.”

The First Night by TheForerunner (NR, 1,043 w. || First Time, Fluff, Non-Explicit, Prose, ACD Canon) – When all was over, Sherlock reached to dress again and John reached to stop him. They sat at opposite ends of the bed and one set of eyes surveyed the other’s set of limbs, and they were quiet in the downbeat, melody suspended. Sherlock was sheepish, and this confused John, who now smelled of his companion and felt they were part of one another.

Secrets by 796116311389 (G, 1,084 w. || Drunk Sherlock, Drunk Confessions, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Pining Sherlock) – “He is the best person in the world and sometimes I get sad because I’m not. Not his best person.”

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.

Lost and Found by jaradel (G, 1,750 w. || Post-HLV, John Whump, Est. Rel., Hurt/Comfort) – He’s honestly not sure what’s worse, right now - being where he is, the beaten kidnap victim, or being where Sherlock is, trying to rescue him before it’s too late. Unwillingly his mind offers up the image of Sherlock in a video message, tied to a chair, bruised and bloodied. John squeezes his eyes shut to hold back tears. No, he decides. That would be so much worse.

Like Euphoria and Scotch by FinAmour (M, 1,856 w. || TSo3 Fix It, Five and Ones, Drinking, Pining, Second Person POV Sherlock, Armchair Sex, Cracky and Fluff, Sherlock’s Imagination, Happy Ending) – 5 different ways it all could have gone + the one way it actually works itself out.

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.

The Lie-In by KendylGirl (M, 2,000 w. || POV Sherlock,  Bed Sharing, Fluff, True Love, Introspection) – Five months after his return, John and Sherlock spend a day in bed. Part 2 of When to Let Go

Husband by jinglebell (E, 2,003 w. || Est. Rel., PWP, Anal, Multiple Orgasms, Fluff) – Sherlock orgasms when John refers to him as ‘husband’.

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

A Study in Lace by KarlyAnne (E, 2,320 w. || Est. Rel., Crafty Sherlock, Tiny Lace Panties / Lingerie, Domestics, Experiments, Oral, Masturbation) – “Why do you suppose he was doing that?” “Why do I suppose who was doing what?” “The room. The lace. The secrecy. He was playing with fire in everything he did, and didn’t care one bit. But he had a secret chamber, carefully concealed, solely for the purpose of making lace lingerie. Obviously for personal use. Why?“ Part 1 of The Unintentional Crafts of Sherlock Holmes

Thief by KendylGirl (M, 2,430 w. || Rev. Reich., Heavy Angst, Regret, Grief / Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Implied Drug Use, Self-Flagellation) – John has been gone for four months, and Sherlock is not dealing well with it. When he finds a personal item of John’s, the situation reaches a crisis. Part 3 of When to Let Go

Undercurrents by entanglednow (E, 2,996 w. || Disturbing Things, Crime Scene Fetish, Pseudo-Necrophilia, PWP, Masturbation) – “There, that’s it, perfect, shut your eyes and don’t move - and don’t speak.”

Untouched by KittieHill (E, 3,239 w. || Kissing, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, Body Worship, Sherlock’s Scars Mentioned, Masturbation, PWP, Rimming, Multiple Orgasms) – Sherlock leaked a lot. John had never needed lubricant. John loved watching it, had once spent an entire afternoon edging Sherlock so he could watch as the thick precome drip, drip, dripped onto Sherlock’s belly.

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.

The Bee Charmer by dreadpiratewatson (M, 3,314 w. || Est. Rel., Captain / Soldier John, Idiots in Love, Domestics, John in the Army) – Greg goes to 221B to check up on Sherlock after a strange phone call pulls him away from an important case, and is stunned to find himself in front of a gun brandishing soldier with a sleeping Sherlock on his chest. John Watson is a doctor, a war hero, a husband, and the only one in the world who can soften Sherlock’s heart.

Apodyopsis by QuinnAnderson (E, 3,347 w. || PWP, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Anal, Sexual Tension) – Apodyopsis: (æpəʊdaɪˈɒpsɪs) noun. the act of mentally undressing someone. Part 2 of Undressed

Paranoia by Ewebie (M, 3,789 w. || Humour, Drinking Games, Scotland Yard Gang, Jealous / Posessive Sherlock, Inappropriate Questions, Embarrassed John, Matchmakers) – John and Sherlock join the gang of Scotland Yard for a night of drinking, and it gets a bit personal and revealing.

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

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.

Tree Topper by May_Shepard (E, 4,017 w. || Christmas Tree, Christmas Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, Smut, First Time, Friends to Lovers) – Sherlock and John are celebrating Christmas the best way they know how–alone together, with booze. They’ve almost finished decorating their tree, but John is determined to find the best way to top it.

Things That You Can’t Say Tomorrow Day by PsychGirl (T, 4,022 w. || Post S4, POV John, Cuddling / Snuggling, Hypothermia, Snowed In, Angst, Romance, First Kiss/Time) – Things go horribly wrong while John and Sherlock are on a mission for Mycroft. Now they’re out in the woods in the middle of winter with no coats and no shelter. However will they stay warm?

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

If He Knows by shamelessmash (M, 4,513 w. || TSo3 Fic, Pining Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Angst, Sherlock POV, Texting, Internal Monologue, Blanket Forts) – I imagine mornings: John handing me a cup of tea, hair sticking out at odd angles. How he would bend down to kiss me, smiling fondly as he pulls away. The way his skin crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his skin looks in the morning light. The soft sigh as he sits in his chair with the morning paper, the way his toes curl in the carpet, the way he rolls his shoulders before sinking deeper into his seat. I watch him, how he is when he is content, as it should be. As he deserves. Happy. With me.

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

Times Two by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 5,595 w. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Victorian John, Modern John, Sherlock has a Good Imagination, PWP, Bottomlock, Spitroasting) – “But you’re not that John…”“Of course I am,” John’s lips and mustache brush against Sherlock’s mouth as he talks. “All us Johns are that John, now. That John is in every room in your Palace.” He leans in for another messy kiss, tongue swirling all around the inside of Sherlock’s mouth. “In fact,” he moves to suck on the sensitive skin underneath Sherlock’s ear. “I think I hear him coming right now.”

The Only Available Transportation by blueink3 (T, 5,379 w. || Post S4, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Sherlock, Caring John, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Birthday, Family, Misunderstandings) – It’s possibly the desperation that’s seeped into his voice despite his best intentions, or perhaps it’s just a mother’s intuition, but she knows that whatever he’s calling about is Serious, hangover be damned. “What’s happened?” she asks, tone soft and as comforting as a hot cup of tea on a cold winter’s night. “Mummy,” he begins, voice catching. “I think John may be moving out.”

Talk by illwick (E, 6,364 w. || Dirty Talk, John’s Giant Junk, PWP, Light BDSM, Size Kink, Oral / Anal, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Rel.) – Sherlock was never much for dirty talk… until an unexpected visit yields unexpected results. Part 20 of Unwind

5687 (Approximately) by prettysailorsoldier (T, 6,771 w. || Est. Rel., Alternate Canon, Christmas, Pining, Fluff, Soldier John) – When John’s leave request for Christmas is denied, Sherlock is nothing short of devastated, not that he’s letting it show. The holiday season now something he’s just waiting to end, Sherlock doesn’t think anything can possibly make it worse. That is, until he realizes no one in his life believes his army “boyfriend” is even real, but, luckily, everyone is in for a surprise. Part 13 of 25 Days of Johnlock

A Kiss and a Cuddle should be Sufficient by Evenlodes_Friend (E, 6,853 w. || Gay Sex Club, Fake Relationship, PWP, Orgies, Rimming, BJ’s, Violence, Case Fic, Voyeurism) – Going undercover, Sherlock and John pursue a vicious killer to a gay group sex party. Not unexpectedly, things get a little out of hand. Set after Baskerville, but before the Fall.

Full Disclosure by Itsallfine (E, 7,032 w. || Bars & Pubs, Fake Relationship, First Kiss / Time, Love Confessions, John’s Army Mates, Three Continents Watson, Semi-Public Sex) – John’s army mates get together for the first time post-discharge and invite John “Three Continents” Watson to join them. If John shows up alone, he knows he’ll be the object of non-stop ridicule all night. Sherlock plays along. John tests the waters.

where the good things grow by anchors (M, 7,066 w. || Tea Shop AU || 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, John Experiments in Sherlock) – 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

The doctor is in by PlainJane (E, 7,581 w. || Omegaverse || Sex Therapist, Anal, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock is a young alpha with an aversion to his cycle. John is a gender medicine specialist. Nothing could possibly go wrong… Part 1 of Doctors and detectives

On Favors and Keeping Score by Ewebie (G, 7,622 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Fluff, John Whump) –  John woke up to the horribly unpleasant sound of his clock alarm. Which meant he’d slept through his phone’s alarm. And for a moment he glared blearily at the noisemaker before smacking at it with his palm. Ugh, he felt like rubbish. The back of his throat was burning with the irritation that heralded a proper dose, his nose was threatening to drip every few seconds, and he had the uncomfortable flush that normally suggested a fever. Nothing high, just uncomfortable. Nothing deadly, just irritating. Nothing worth calling in sick with, just a full day of discomfort in the face of other people’s discomfort. It was going to be a day where he was forced to bite his tongue from telling people off. “You’re not as sick as I am, so off you pop.” Part 7 of Tumblr Shorts

On the Steadfast Approach of an Oncoming Darkness by 2bee (T, 7,772 w. || Apocalypse, Minor Character Death, Sort of Parentlock) – The world is ending. Not fast, but slowly, like falling asleep with a fever.

Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w. || Were-Creatures, Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say ‘oh well, at least we tried’. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.” (This one is… REALLY REALLY kinky, heavy dub-con warning)

Every Night I Look for You by destinationtoast (E, 8,377 w. || POV John, Post-TRF, Angst, Mystery, Unsafe Sex, BAMF John) – Every night, John looks for familiar hints of Sherlock in the men he meets in bars, and he does with them all the things he wishes he’d done before. Eventually, he stumbles into a situation that Sherlock would know how to handle, and John must decide whether he can handle it without him.

Galapogos by anchors (E, 8,460 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, 5 and 1, John Whump) – Somewhere in the depths of the universe, and somewhere in the middle of Sherlock’s chest, a star goes into supernova.

He’s Not Paid Enough to Deal with This Shit by janonny (T, 9,828 w. || Personal Assistant AU || Humour, First Meetings, Snarky John) – One of the first things John did was to write up step-by-step instructions on how to conduct a proper job interview before handing it over to Mycroft for his perusal. There were no kidnapping, deserted car parks or stolen therapy notes anywhere on that list. (Or the one where John returned from the war and ended up working for Mycroft as his personal assistant slash doctor on retainer. Everything was fine, until he was sent to post bail for one Sherlock Holmes.)

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

Rainbow Hearts Retreat by PajamaSecrets (E, 11,638 w. || Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Undercover, Fluff and Smut, Bed-Sharing, Therapy, Humour/Crack, First Time) – “It’s a same-sex couples retreat. For those experiencing troubles in their relationship. Consists of group and couples therapy as well as encouraging socialization between the couples. It’s all in their incredibly dull brochure.” “Rainbow Hearts Retreat,” John read. “Sounds… quite gay.”

And Here We Are by J_Baillier (T, 12,416 w. || ASiP Fic, Alternating First Person POV, Drama, Friendship, Mild Case Fic, Autism Spectrum Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Protective John, Pining, Homophobia, Loneliness, Angst, Humour, Domestics, Morbid Fluff, Kidnapping) – All the little things we never got to see when an army doctor and a consulting detective were adjusting to sharing a flat. And a life.

Fucking Cake by Random_Nexus (E, 12,965 w. || Pre-Slash, Humour/Crack, Inanimate Object Smut, Frottage, “For a Case” / “Experiment”, PWP / Kinky, Mutual Pining, Fluff) – Sherlock brings home a chocolate cake, John finds him about to have sex with said cake, then exceedingly weird hijinx ensue. Part 1 of “Fucking Baked Goods” - Sherlock BBC

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?

I Will Take Care Of You by SailorChibi (T, 16,664 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Sherlock, BAMF John, BAMF Lestrade, Reunion Fic) – Two years after Sherlock’s death, John comes to find him on the sofa. Wounded and ill, Sherlock is convinced he’s hallucinating and refuses to share any details about Moran or the fact that Mycroft has been compromised. That doesn’t stop John from stepping up and taking care of the last of Moriarty’s web, BAMF-style.

Software Malfunction by tiger_in_the_flightdeck (E, 16,679 w. || Android Sherlock, Love Story, Unhappy Ending, Angst) – “You think I can’t love you? Just because you’re made with metal, and detailed programming?” The doctor propped himself on his elbow, and looked down at it. “I am nothing but blood and bone, and tissue. Things just managed get mashed together in a manner that made me like this. Just like you were put together to make you how you are. When I kiss you-” he did so, briefly, to prove his point. Then more deeply, and lingering, because he could. “When I touch you, or smile at you, does it make you feel different from when others have done it in the past?”

Best of Three by SilentAuror (E, 17,473 w. || POV John, 3G Moment, Porn with Feels, Post HLV, Rimming, Denial, Anal) – “You want to have sex with me,” Sherlock announces one evening about a year after John’s divorce. John’s vigorous denial sparks a three-day wager wherein Sherlock is determined to prove his point, and John is determined to hold onto his heterosexuality. Set well after HLV. (Canon-compliant). PORN. With feels.

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

Uncharted Territory by J_Baillier (T, 19,603 w. || Dystopian Future / Black Mirror AU || Alternate First Meeting, 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.

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.

When to Let Go by KendylGirl (M, 22,109 w. || Friends to Lovers, Reverse Reichenbach, Sacrifice, Forgiveness, Angst, Love, Implied Drug Use) – What if it were John who had to die to thwart Moriarty’s plans? John’s supposed death shatters Sherlock, and when he returns, it will challenge the pair to forge a path of forgiveness, to peace, and to find a way back to each other. Part 1 of When to Let Go

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.

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.

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.

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.”

Malediction by MapleleafCameo (M, 36,680 w. || Ladyhawke AU || Magical Realism, Romance, Curses, Eventual Happy Ending) – Cursed to a half-life, John and Sherlock must fight the forces of evil to be reunited once again.

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

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.

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can’t help but wonder if he’s imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn’t getting cold feet about the wedding… Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

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…

Bloody But Unbowed by BeautifulFiction (E, 43,211 w. || Abduction, John Whump, Mild Torture, Background Case Fic, Friends to Lovers, Post-TRF / S3 Rewrite, Hurt/Comfort) – When a familiar argument threatens to destroy the last remnants of John and Sherlock’s failing friendship, both men are left questioning their worth to one another. Before either of them has the chance to make amends, circumstance intervenes. John is left at the mercy of his abductors, and this time, he’s not sure Sherlock will bother coming to his rescue.

Lost Without My Blogger by starrysummernights (E, 52,155 w. || Rev. Reich, PTSD, Hurt / Comfort, Fluff / Angst, Psychological Torture, Reunion Fic, Friends to Lovers) – John is abducted and declared dead. How will Sherlock cope without his blogger? How will he react when John comes back from the “dead?” Drama and angst with a healthy dose of romance. Part 1 of I’d Be Lost Without My Blogger

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 Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it’s all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia

Scars by SilentAuror (E, 60,493 w. || Rape / Non-Con / Abuse, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Dub Con Elements, Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice) – S3 rewrite, showing Mary’s manipulation of John as he realizes his love for Sherlock. Mary is not having it.

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?

Uphill by scullyseviltwin (E, 84,945 w. || Olympics AU || Sherlock POV, Skier!Sherlock / Medic!John, Rivalry, 2014 Olympics, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is striving for gold in this, his fourth and final Olympics as a downhill Alpine racer.

31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 Series by distantstarlight (E, 96,540 w. across 31 stories || Prompt Ficlets, Assorted Kinks, PWP) – A collection in response to the 31 Days of Porn Challenge issued by AtlinMerrik! Thanks for doing that because this has been buttload of fun (that joke never gets old). All stories will be brief stand-alone one-shots.

The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) – Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school’s Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

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. (I’m about a ¾ done this fic and I already know I will be bookmarking it, so here we are! Additional tags will be added to subsequent recs of this fic

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w. || FutureAU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say:Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

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

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Swan Triad by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers’ attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

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

How to Build a Heart out of Ashes by Teumessian (E, 144,931 w. || Changling AU || Slow Burn, Drug Use, Mentions of Child Abuse / Bullying, Mentions of Student/Teacher Relations, Uni-Age) – In an AU where a small number of the population become Changelings at a young age, at 17 John Watson believes he’s destined for Normal life but then the Change takes him and he is sent to the Baker Institute. There he meets Sherlock Holmes.

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w. || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That’s all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition.

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

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored. Oh, and…porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

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.