#what if they could find comfort and joy in the lines between the tragedy? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ipsen · 2 years ago

Note

For the Shipp asks game could you make the 1 to 10 asks for Etoken? I'm sorry if it's too much, you can just do whatever you want

cracks knuckles Let's do this. Every single one.

(Sorry about the wait! Super long days lately. Also wanted to make sure things were spick and span.)

AFTER A READ MORE WOO!

Describe their first date.

I'm so glad you asked! Would you believe me if I said I pseudo-covered this in Holometabolism on AO3? Because I did. Sort of. please read it.

I think of their first date (a proper one) taking place at a coffee shop neither of them have tried before; it’s one of those things where both of them attach bitterness to the places they took place at (Eto avoids the 20th ward, Kaneki's apartment away from the Asaoka family, and is also never seen visiting his mother's grave, assuming there is one). Choosing a spot with little attachment equates low commitment, and with low commitment comes low risk for long-term harm.

Who wakes up early? Who sleeps in late?

I think they're both light sleepers, but in different ways. Eto is a light sleeper because of her time in the 24th ward, where being able to move at a moment's notice is paramount to surviving. Meanwhile, Kaneki is a light sleeper due to the debilitating fear of loneliness that constantly plagues his being.

However, I think as they spend more and more time together, and get more and more comfortable with the idea that the other person is here to stay, they start to sleep in later, knowing that there will be someone to protect them at any time. The basis of a prolonged relationship between the two of them is healing each other's wounds, which are very similar in nature (abandonment, loneliness, and the counteraction of them via the other, someone who understands).

What was their first impression of each other?

I'll dig into Kaneki's first impressions first. His first exposure to "Eto" is through Dear Kafka, whose release lines up extremely nicely with the death of his mother (he was ten when his mother died, and Dear Kafka came out when Eto was fourteen, their age gap consistently being about 3-4 years). Kaneki really likes Takatsuki's work, praising the vagueness and the hidden strength. Someone brave enough to say these things, unlike him. Supplement this fascination with Haise's analysis of the work. Haise, who has mostly known joy, sees the loneliness and anger and sorrow for what it is. So, in essence, Kaneki feels very close to and understood by her at first, without having met her.

Cut to the book signing, where he does meet her, and she's completely different from the picture in his head. Considering how much of himself he recognized in her work, she's strangely comfortable around people. However, when he dissects her book and she prods his brain, he spies a bit of that person he imagined in his head, and thinks how they might not be so different after all.

Eto first "meets" Kaneki in the Aogiri arc, where he's brought before Tatara. I think she shares much of Tatara's misgivings about him-- he's not willing to hurt people to get closer to his goals, much less the people in charge of "tragedy" (CCG + V), and finds him more content with staying in the Anteiku bubble, therefore a useless thing to be tossed away. He barely registers on her radar, if only because this is in an OEK-candidate searching sort of way.

At the book signing, their second and proper first meeting, however, she is glad for his newly obtained strength after Yamori and beyond. Not only that, she immediately game-recognizes-game sees a lot of herself reflected in him. So, in a way, her work becomes a two-way mirror for the both of them in that moment.

Who initiates affection? Why does the other not initiate affection as much?

As with most (read: all) Kaneki-involved ships, Kaneki is almost physically incapable of initiating affection in the sense of being close. However, Eto, for all she likes to "initiate" pretty terrible things (psychological torture being the obvious one), is in a precarious situation herself. Initiating affection does not come to her naturally, though when she's feeling bold, it'll manifest in simple ways (hugs, for example; I'm a big believer in physical affection to communicate love).

Do they argue often? If so, what do they argue about?

Arguments are born out of the times when one hits the low point, causing friction with the other. Kaneki feeling helpless despite himself angers Eto, while Eto distancing herself from Kaneki due to her feeling unworthy of him spirals into him feeling similarly. Eto's words cut deep, as they often do when she wants them to.

How often do they say "I love you"?

I wouldn't think very often. For all their love for words, their affection is more demonstrated through implicit statements (Eto) or actions (Kaneki), and occasionally they trade professions. Kaneki cooking Eto's favorite meals on a whim (he watches her eating habits without asking directly), Eto spending multiple hours multiple days in a row on Kaneki instead of writing (after noticing he seems a bit more withdrawn than usual), "reminds me of you"s to know they're always thinking about each other and "hey handsome"s to keep up that cripplingly low self-confidence and so on and so forth.

"I love you" itself is reserved for vulnerable and emotional moments. Like a wedding or a birthday. Maybe.

How to they make up or apologize after an argument?

Much like how they say "I love you", their apologies don't usually take the form of "I'm sorry". After the heated moments pass, Kaneki will be seen floating around Eto in a not-so-subtle way, like a lost puppy. If she was the one who got angered the most, the best thing he can do is wait until she approaches him.

Regret is a vital component to both of their characters, I think, and approaching each other to address it is a part of how they stay together. Because a lot of their previous failures are based on not addressing past regrets.

What do they love most about the other?

Kaneki loves when Eto is vulnerable toward him (it makes him feel special). It's like an achievement, the way he notices how she acts just a little bit differently, a little less energetic, when they're alone, and that it's because she's comfortable around him. Getting a healthy dose of her going about without her mask, after so many years of wearing it, means the world to him.

Eto's fascination with Kaneki's ability to analyze and break down passages-- and by extension, herself-- is the source of her glowing praise for him. She feels understood by him without needing to say things outright, and it's the thing that attracted him to her in the first place. Being able to sit in comfortable silence is a gift.

What do they dislike the most about the other?

Eto is eternally frustrated by Kaneki's lack of initiative. His reactive nature is, ultimately, his greatest flaw. He has so much to offer the world, and instead of going out and using it for something, he often keeps it for himself (and for her, which she begrudgingly appreciates and that is also frustrating). It's why she tries to give him the confidence he desperately needs, because that's the main roadblock.

Kaneki, on the opposite end, feels Eto can be too distant at times, especially early on in their relationship. It's too often that he can't always tell what she's thinking or hiding from him, but it is clear she's distancing herself from him. It's a defense mechanism after being alone for so long. And though it's difficult, he tries to (gently) pick her apart so that she gets the idea that being open with him is a good thing and that he won't abandon her for it.

Another thing he dislikes is how sometimes impossible it is to keep her in one place. But you know what they say about caging wild birds; one of the things he learns is to have faith that she'll always fly back to him.

Do they share any hobbies or interests? How do these things bring them together?

Their entire relationship is built upon a mutual love for literature. I love the idea of them just exchanging pieces and listening to the other analyze them.

To supplement this, they will travel to various bookstores (Eto drags/entices Kaneki with a "what if they have the next volume of this?" and it usually works) to see what the locale has to offer. They clean out books fast, unfortunately, and scouring for new things proves quick to take them outside of Tokyo rather fast.

Phew, is that all of them? That took a while. Thanks for the ask!

Edit: I-I forgot to hyperlink to Holometabolism...

#tg #tokyo ghoul #eto yoshimura #ken kaneki #etoken #ask

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three-duck-houses · 1 year ago

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@fe-oc-week day 6 - Supports

So I skipped days 4 and 5, Tragedy and Joy, because I really can't work out what to do for them? The only thing she would consider a tragedy is her mum dying the day she turned 11, and she makes an effort to find as much joy as possible in the little every day things, like sun rises and sun sets and clean air and tasty food and being near people she likes. Just too many things to list

For Supports, I don’t tend to think of Nico in terms of fitting her into the game mechanics (with branching paths and joining different classes), it’s more of a linear story that has conversations at various points that I guess could count as Support convos? Though saying that, I know that one and one conversations with most everyone do all happen at one point or another (if Shez and Byleth get to talk to everyone, so does Nico!) however where most of her story is still living in my head as a giant jumble to half cooked ideas and snippets of dialogue... I'll just share what I've already got for a few people

So here's some of my favourite bits of dialogue and short scenes? =3 (and a few scene outlines because my brain Will Not Work properly)

Conversations with Leonie, Hilda, Lorenz, Felix, Shez, Claude, Sylvain

Leonie:

When Nico first gets to the academy -

“Leonie! Hello darling, it’s great to see you!” she said, reaching out and pulling her friend into a quick hug before stepping back and holding her by her elbows as she gave her an exaggerated once over. “And oooh, look at you! Dressed up all fancy. It really suits you. Give us a twirl? Niiice. Now give me another one so I can check out something other than your ass? And your legs, phew, didn’t think I’d ever see so much of them out in public like this.”

Leonie burst out laughing as she cuts the start of her second spin short and shoves at Nico’s shoulder with a fond eye roll and faint blush. But she’s quickly reminded that they aren’t at Sauin village where everyone knows what they’re like, and are in fact surrounded by strangers when she hears a few other people also laugh while still more splutter from drinking at the wrong moment or make scandalised sounding gasps. And through it all, a laugh she vaguely recognises. She looked round, and found Lady Hilda sitting at the nearby table next to Yellow cape–no, he was Claude, and she was still kinda mad at him–, and she’d half turned towards her to say hi when Leonie’s words made her freeze

“Yeah, I didn’t either, but my uniform choices were this or a dress. It’s surprisingly comfortable, when you get used to it. What have you picked for yours?”

Her eyes snapped back to Leonie, hoping her friend was joking, but no, no it didn’t look like she was.

“Run that by me again? Did you say the options are a skirt or a dress?”

“Huh? Well, yeah. I was pretty miffed about it too, but they seemed kinda strict about it, long held tradition or something.”

She turned to Shez and Byleth, who were watching the conversation with vague interest, and silently asked them what the fuck with a head tilt and brow lift.

“You don't remember us going to see the tailors last night after we talked to Professor Hanneman? Well, we did, and we've picked out what we want, but you were too out of it to pick yourself, so we said we'd go back later today. Oh. They needed your measurements to get started on your shirts, so me and By got them, so they wouldn’t be touching you.”

Well. That was one thing to be thankful for, she supposed, giving Shez a grateful smile, then glancing down at Byleth when she felt a light touch on the back of her hand to find her cousin looking up at her, the faintest of frown lines between her brows, and shifted her smile over into reassuring.

“I’m fine, honest. Just gonna have to talk to them is all.”

“Aww, what’s the matter Nico?” Leonie asked with a laugh in her voice. “You can’t tell me you’re afraid to show a little leg yourself, I’ve seen what you dance in.”

Shaking her head fondly she turned back, noting that Hilda had left her seat and was walking towards them so she needed to wrap this up quickly.

“You know damn well how much of me I’m happy to show, but when you’ve got some free time how about I take you up on Kilani and you can find out how much of a pain in the ass it is to ride a wyvern in a skirt?”

Hilda:

When Nico gets to the monastery, and she’s meeting everyone along with Byleth and Shez, she’s just introduced herself the the Great Lord’s heirs and offered to do anything she can to help them, since she’s employed by Lady Daphnel and trying to build a good rapport with these noble kids -

"Except you. If you want me to buy you more beads you need to start learning Almyran properly and come with me. I'm not having you yell at me for buying you what you ask me for again."

Hilda laughed, rolling her eyes, then started her familiar argument

"I asked for lapis lazuli seed beads Nico–"

"No, you asked for blue–"

"And you bought me turquoise cut gems–"

"Turquoise is blue! I bought you blue stones with holes in them! I tried, ok? This is why you need to come with me!"

End of Harpstring, after the class’ first main mission in which Nico took an arrow to the back of the shoulder for Claude, and then an axe hit to her arm while pushing Hilda out of the way of an attack. Hilda and Leonie have gone with Nico back to the eyrie to help her unsaddle Kilani, since her arm’s in a sling. Probably their C support? -

“Nico, why’d you take that hit for me? You know I’m not actually a delicate flower, don’t you?”

“I know, I know. But I still didn’t want to see you get hurt. Even if you could have taken it, it would still have caused you pain, and I just… don’t want to see you hurt. I honestly do like you Hilda, and I’d like to be friends someday.”

“Wait, you think we aren’t friends already?”

“Huh? I mean, um…”

“Nico!”

“I didn’t want to presume! You are a noble after all, and you’ve paid me to run errands and do stuff for you before! I thought you might still see me as a messenger, or like, a merc who works with Holst sometimes.”

Leonie, who was on the other side of the wyvern stall, started sniggering

“Don’t mind her Hilda, Nico’s pretty bad at knowing when she’s made a friend, she asked me if she could call me one after we’d known each other six months.”

“Leonie!!!”

“Haha, I see! In that case yes Nico, we are friends. And I think Marianne and Lysithea would probably say you are too, so how about we all go and get tea together at some point, yeah?”

“Huh? Oh, um, yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Lorenz:

Lorenz pissed Nico off when they first met because he didn’t like the way she’d talked to Leonie, and reminded her several times that he was a noble who had standards. So when she went back to Daphnel for her first weekend running messages and she offered to take stuff for the rest of the class, she made a point of charging him, since he was a noble, not one of her classmates or friends. This happens shortly after that

“Hey, um, Lorenz? Do you have a second?”

“Yes? What can I do for you?”

“I. I wanted to apologise for the way I spoke to you on Friday,” she said, dropping into a bow and focusing on his shoes, which were of course perfectly polished. “And for all of my conduct towards you so far, in fact. I know I’ve been a real brat towards you, because what you said when we met kinda annoyed me, but that’s no excuse for my frankly terrible behaviour and attitude. You of course aren’t obligated to, but I was wondering if perhaps we could try to start over?”

His feet shuffled in place while he made a vaguely surprised noise, and she could hear their classmates still tidying books and lingering at desks. She hated having to do this in front of them, but, well, she had made the point of charging him for delivering his message and then warping him away to his dad’s office in front of them too, so it was only fair.

“I accept your apology. And as to starting over, ahem. I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She slowly rose up from her bow, looking up and finding him giving her a small, tight looking smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“The pleasure is mine Lord Gloucester. I am Nicolita Eisner, but please, call me Nico. Do you think you might be free at all in the next few days to join me for some hot leaf juice, do you think?”

She bit her lip as she watched his eyes fly wide and he started to splutter, colour rushing to his cheeks and looking like he was trying to be a kettle fit to boil over, before he paused, and narrowed his eyes at her. She shrunk down a little, and felt her shoulders hunch despite herself. Yeah, she’d been trying to wind him up by calling it leaf juice, but she did actually want to have tea with him

“Humph. Very well. But I must insist that you refrain from referring to it as such. While I acknowledge that not all of the blends that are generally called tea deserve the title, those blends do have their own proper names, such as tinctures and tisanes. Come along, and I can begin teaching you the differences now.”

Felix:

End of Harpstring, her dead mother’s birthday. Nico has been trying to keep her head down and not interact with people, and Felix has been trying to goad her into sparring despite her and Byleth telling him to stop - this would be C- I think? -

"Tch, what's the matter? Scared to fight me now I know the sort of dirty tricks you like to play? You truly are pathetic"

That makes her snap, spinning to face him and magic sparking out of her, like in one of those static ball things, and leaving faint scorch marks on the floor near her

"For fucks sake Felix! I'd heard Sylvain was the insatiable one who didn't understand the concept of 'no', but were all those rumours really about you instead? Are you really the type of guy to keep pushing and pushing after a girl's turned you down, and ignore all her attempts to politely make you back off? I’m thinking maybe they were, since Sylvain has been nothing but a gentleman since I met him"

Felix is horrified, because of what she's implying. And Sylvain's a little surprised, because er, does she not remember their date?

“I said no. I said I don’t want to. I am now saying to fuck the hell off and leave me alone and just don’t talk to me about anything, ever, you spoiled little noble brat! It’s more than time you grew the fuck up, learned some manners and learned to fucking listen to people other than yourself!”

Later the same day, Nico returns to the monastery from where she’d stormed off, and goes to find Felix in the dining hall -

"What do you want?" he bites out, and it's an effort to swallow from how dry her mouth suddenly is as she tries to remember what she wanted to say

She bows to him, a full proper one with all the respect he deserves, and says "I'm sorry. I was in a bad mood but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You did nothing to deserve what I said to you, and my words towards you were completely unwarranted and unjustified, and the insinuation I made was unnecessarily cruel. I truly regret my actions, and any harm I've caused you, and will do whatever you want to make things right, if I can."

She waits, holding the bow, for his reaction, and has to bite her lip to try and hide her flinch when he scoffs

"If you think that drivel you spouted will make everything better–" he starts with a barely suppressed snarl in his voice, and she knows it's rude and will probably make everything worse, but she cuts across him

"No, I don't think it'll make things better. I understand if there is nothing I can ever say or do to make up for the pain I caused you or any damage to your reputation. But in case there is, please know I will say or do whatever you deem necessary to make things right"

Silence. And she internally cringes because it's the sort of silence that means everyone in the hall has stopped and is watching, and if anyone hadn't known what happened before then they'd find out now and this was a terrible idea what was she thinking she was such a fucking moron

"Idiot," Felix spits, followed by a tch of him clicking his tongue. "Go away. I don't want to deal with you right now. You disgust me"

(this one isn’t even dialogue, just how the scene would go, but shhhh, pretend it is?) This would be… either C+ or B I guess? -

After everyone’s settled down, she goes to Kilani’s saddle bags and pulls out her set of poi, and moves to a bit of the clearing away from Felix, because they still aren’t exactly on the best of terms from the whole insulting him thing, and starts practising. Hits herself a few times, but mostly does ok

She keeps track of the time, and when their shift is over she looks over at Felix, trying to build herself up to face the cold hostility she’s sure she’s about to get from him, but finds him staring at her, looking considering and calculating, and what? Tentatively calls his name, and he blinks a few times, then tch’s, looking away from her. Says her footwork was interesting was all, he was studying it to see if any of it could be applied to his swordsmanship.

She stares at him, because huh. Didn’t expect him to admit that. But her silence seems to bother him, and he shifts, crossing his arms, then huffs loudly.

Asks if she’d be willing to teach him how to do all that, and she’s a little surprised. Because she hadn’t been entirely sure they were back on good terms… They hadn’t interacted much since the whole blow up at him thing?

He tch’s again, and says she had a point, he was wrong, he’s been trying to be better about it. And… he wants to learn how to do what she did. Not just with these balls on strings. But with the moving around in fights. The dodging out of the way, and all the footwork. And he saw her dancing in town, and the moves she used looked... He thinks it’d be useful for his fighting. Please.

It’s the please that gets her. Because wow. Progress!!!

Shez:

So Nico and Shez are pretty close before the game even starts, so it’s difficult to work out what would even count as supports for them. But I really do love this scene so I’mma share it =3

Context is Byleth and Shez started the Ashen Wolves DLC while Nico was away running messages for Judith, only Judith told her to take a few hours off while she wrote supplies so Nico made a giant pool at the Troupes camp and was teaching the kids to swim when she felt Byleth turn back time (long story). So she warped to Byleth while still in her under things, and joined in the fight in that outdoor map below the cathedral bridge, but because of the excess amount of Sothis magic down there her magical senses are dulled, and she kinda hasn’t noticed anyone else who takes part in the DLC are kinda hanging back to stay out of the way of her attacks… -

A sharp slice across her collarbone as she didn’t step back either quick or far enough, and she hissed in pain, then growled as she felt her top which just got cut through slide down to leave one side of her chest exposed, and then hung loose and distracting off her other shoulder as the knot got stuck in the rings at the back

“Nico? What’s wro–” Shez’s question dissolved into splutters, and then a grunt of pain, and she glanced over to where she was pretty sure he was to see him sprawled on the floor, cheeks a bright red, and a construct standing over him with an axe.

Sighing, she reached out and waved a hand, shooting ice up from either side of Shez to impale the enemy.

“Oh I’m sorry Shez, don’t tell me you got distracted by my non-existent tits?” she asked sweetly sharp, keeping half an eye on him as he scrambled to his feet

“For the love of–gnnngh! I said it one time, and that was months ago! How are you still not over that yet?”

“You’re right, you did only say I’m flatter than a wash board with grapes nailed to it one time, yeah. But there was another time when you said the only shape I have is because of an excessive amount of ruffles! And maybe I’ll start getting over it when you apologise??”

“What? I already did!”

“Bollocks did you!”

“I did! You were yelling at me in the healers tent and started to cry and stopped as soon as I said I was sorry!”

“When I was in…” She stopped after kicking one of the things in the stomach then spinning round to get the momentum to behead it cleanly. She uses this quick lull in the fight to yank at her top, pulling the knot through the rings so it was free and she could drop it to the floor, where it wouldn't distract her by flapping and shifting and tickling her back

“Shez. Darling. Love. Sweetheart–”

“Uh oh”

“–Light of my life. Did you perhaps apologise to me during the three days I lost because I had a mother fucking concussion from being thrown head first into a tree saving your sorry ass from the giant wolves you pissed off?!”

“. . . well when you put it that way–”

“As soon as we’re done murdering these bitches I’m smacking you upside the head you flaming sack of putrid festering duck shit!”

Claude:

Shahid attacked the Locket while the Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth was going on (because he’d heard someone tried to murder some of the Alliances heirs last month, so the Alliance must be weak right now), so the Deer have to ditch protecting the Sword in order to beat up Shahid. Nico provides some psychological horror to the Almyran’s before warping them all back to the capital, and then has a quick conversation with Nader before sending him back to explain that they’re all going home in one piece this time because of her debt to queen Tia—--

Nico blue screens as she puts together that Tiana is the same name as Oswald’s daughter/Claude mum and the Fodlani born Almyran queen and huh

The next day, when Nico wakes up from her magical overexertion nap and Claude catches her in the eyrie -

“So, about what happened with Nader yesterday. I guess that means you kno–”

She spun around and practically lept towards him, slapping her hand over his mouth as she grabbed his shoulder and pushed him backwards until he hit the wall out of sight of the doorway. She squeezed tighter when his hands seem to instinctively go to her wrist and try to pull her off him, and she had to look away from his eyes and focus on a spot just past his ear when she saw how alarmed, confused, and wary betrayed he was, because it made something in her chest ache something fierce to see how he still didn’t trust her, despite everything. But she pushed that aside for the moment, because he needed to hear this!

“Look. There is a very fine line between me strongly suspecting something because of facts I’ve pieced together, and me knowing something because someone else has confirmed it. Right now, I can honestly say if anyone asks that I don’t know who or where your parents are. So I need you to be very careful about what you say to me from now on so you don’t tip me suspecting over into me knowing. Understand?”

A light seemed to flicker on behind his eyes, which were darting all over her face as she slowly lifted her hand off his mouth and let go of him, and then he slowly nodded, something like a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips

“Yeah, I understand. I… yeah.”

She nodded at him, then turned to go back to making sure she’d packed all of Kilani’s things properly, but he grabbed her shirt sleeve, gently tugging, and she looked back at him in surprise, because huh?

“Thanks, Nico. For not saying anything yesterday.”

She gave him a look, brows raised and lips quirked, and shook her head with a sigh

“Don’t be dumb, Claude. You don’t need to thank me for something like that. You should know by now I’ll have your back when I can, alright? No matter if that’s from swords, axes, arrows, or info”

And then a few days/a week later, when Judith comes and gets Claude and takes him back to Deidriu to sit in on the Roundtable, Judith brings Nico along too so she can then fly Claude back (so Judith doesn’t have to make the trip there and back again)

And Nico realises that every time she’s spoken Almyran in front of Claude, he’s understood it. And she starts trying to remember all the things she’s said in front of him, and remembers the whole “We could always bribe these three with the literal Prince’s ransom I’ve been offered to track down the youngest prince if you want me to go take that job?” conversation from after Remire

So she goes to find him, and they have a little conversation where she asks him if that was why he didn’t like her at the start of the year, and he’s annoying and reminds her he’s not meant to do or say anything to confirm either way anything she suspects, and she’s very grrrrr at him because he has a point but also she can tell he’s being a wind up, till he laughs and says yeah, he understood what she said, and while he knew she worked for Judith and she’d said she worked for Gramps, he didn’t know how far her loyalty would last when she was worried about keeping Byleth and her chest rock away from the monastery

And oooooooh, fuck. She’d forgotten she’d talked about that. Yeah, no, not acknowledging that he just said that, moving on

There’s then what would probably be a B support that happens at the White Heron Ball, but I need to rewrite that because I wrote it ages ago and I don’t know if it’ll fit in with various changed I’ve made to the rest now, but tl:dr is Claude asks Nico what she plans to do after they graduate, Nico says not sure, depends what Byleth and Shez do, but probably go back to working for Lady Daphnel at least part of the time, and Claude asks if she’d want to come work for him maybe?

And She kinda does… but she’s got this whole thing about not flirting with people who pay her, and she was really looking forward to trying to flirt with him a little after she wasn’t being paid to kinda look after/keep an eye on him or do whatever he asks her to?

Que conversation where they talk around how they both feel about that, with a few hypotheticals thrown around by both of them ;3

Sylvain:

So what would be their C support (where Sylvain takes her on a date and she doesn’t realise it’s a date because he reminds her so much of one of her troupe cousins and has unconsciously fallen into the sort of banter she has with that cousin) is a giant mess of half formed ideas and half written conversations which I can’t share

But their B- support happens after the Gronder fight, because Nico did something stupid to save some people from the troupe as the students made their way back towards the monastery and completely drained herself of magic and gets stuck in bed (she shares a room with Byleth because reasons) and is bored -

Nico is stuck in bed for 3 days after they get back. She is bored stupid, but light and sounds are still hurting, and she can only just get herself up and to the toilet without help, so classes are out of the question. But she's finding Manuela was right, and stuffing her face with as many cakes and sweets and sugar as possible is helping immensely, and she's getting plenty of them whenever people visit her

She's laying in bed trying to focus on a book Ashe and Ingrid recommended to her when someone knocks on the door, then opens it without waiting for a reply. It's Sylvain carrying a tray loaded with a tea set and covered plates. He puts it down on the side table Byleth found for exactly that, since she can't even handle going to the dining hall to eat, while Nico slowly gets herself sat up

"You could have waited for me to say come in," she scolds playfully, trying not to laugh at his pout and puppy eyes. "What if I was getting changed or something?"

His pout turns into a crooked grin, and his eyebrows dance a few times.

"Then I would have enjoyed the free show," he smarms, and laughs as he dodges the small cushion she throws at him. "Careful. You'll knock over the tea"

"Uh huh. So. Not that I'm complaining, but who are you using me as an excuse to hide from?"

"What?" he draws out, playing at being offended, the doofus. "Can't I visit my dear bed bound friend without having some sort of ulterior motive?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

He manages to hold his fake offended expression for a few seconds against her flatly amused one, before he laughs, shaking his head as he settles on the edge of the bed

"Ingrid was trying to get me to train with her, but I really was planning on coming to see you anyway. Wondered if you wanted to practice chess, but you don't look entirely with it"

- Sylvain ends up sitting/laying next to her in the bed and letting her lean against him as he reads to her since she's having trouble focusing but the book has occasional pictures she likes to look at, and somehow he's way more comfy than Byleth to lay on??? She thinks it's the boobs, she tells Sylvain solemnly, and it sets him off laughing so hard he has to lay back with his arm over his face for a minute or two. He keeps having to nudge her to remind her to eat because she's sort of dozing off, and refilling her tea and making her drink

- Byleth comes in the room, looking like she’s been in the training hall, and her brow goes up when she sees them, making them both laugh. Byleth starts moving around the room putting her things away, and Nico scoots over towards the wall, tugging Sylvain, and tells By to join them, Sylvain's doing storytime. Sylvain tries to protest, because this seems kinda weird, but Nico pouts at him and asks "Why, don't you want to share a bed with two beautiful ladies?"

"Yeah Sylvain," Byleth agrees in an even more deadpan than usual voice while her eyes sparkle with mischief, walking back to the bed and leaning down next to them, one hand resting on the headboard. "I thought you'd jump at the chance to get us both in bed?"

"Do I need to come back later?" Shez's flat voice drifts in from the doorway, surprising all of them, and Nico is the first to burst out laughing only to immediately wince and stop and clutch her head, burying her face again Sylvain with a groan

Byleth keeps laughing lightly as she grabs Shez before he can leave, dragging him and the fresh tray of tea and cakes into the room. Nico groans again when she sees it, turning her face back into Sylvain's shoulder

"I hate to admit it, but I'm getting kinda tired of cakes. I think I maybe even want a vegetable"

Shez gasps, and she opens an eye to glare at the overly shocked face he's making

"Who are you and where's the real Nico?"

- Shez ends up joining them and sitting at the foot of the bed and all three of them bully Sylvain into continuing story time

#ducky rambles #my oc nico #fe oc week

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whimsicaldragonette · 2 years ago

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ARC Review: We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian

Preorder

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Publication Date: June 6, 2023

Synopsis:

[I have opted to remove the comps listed on Goodreads because they are nonsense.]

Nick Russo has worked his way from a rough Brooklyn neighborhood to a reporting job at one of the city's biggest newspapers. But the late 1950s are a hostile time for gay men, and Nick knows that he can't let anyone into his life. He just never counted on meeting someone as impossible to say no to as Andy. Andy Fleming's newspaper-tycoon father wants him to take over the family business. Andy, though, has no intention of running the paper. He's barely able to run his life--he's never paid a bill on time, routinely gets lost on the way to work, and would rather gouge out his own eyes than deal with office politics. Andy agrees to work for a year in the newsroom, knowing he'll make an ass of himself and hate every second of it. Except, Nick Russo keeps rescuing Andy: showing him the ropes, tracking down his keys, freeing his tie when it gets stuck in the ancient filing cabinets. Their unlikely friendship soon sharpens into feelings they can't deny. But what feels possible in secret--this fragile, tender thing between them--seems doomed in the light of day. Now Nick and Andy have to decide if, for the first time, they're willing to fight.

My Rating: ★★★★★

A few months ago he told himself that his choices—that any queer person’s choices—were either to hide or brazen it out, and that’s still true. But there’s another possibility: pushing back against the injustices that force people to make impossible choices.

*My Review and Favorite Quotes below the cut.

My Review:

I read this book in one sitting - while I was supposed to be reading an entirely different book. I picked it up meaning to read a chapter or two while I ate lunch -- because it's easier to read on a kindle than a paperback while eating -- and the next thing I knew I was turning the last page. I can't remember the last time I did that. I knew I would love it from the beginning; that was a given - it's a Cat Sebastian book. But I wasn't prepared for how much I would love it, or for how many feelings it gave me. This book is devastating in its quiet queer joy and relentless hope while living in the face of prejudice and hate. It's about a queer couple in the newspaper publishing world of New York City of the 1950s. It's about the slow realization of feelings, and the inevitable and infinitesimal merging of lives, and the way you can breathe easier when you have a community of people like you who understand you and know you. It's about the comfort and happiness to be found in the little things in life. And it's so soft and domestic, even with the uncertainty and the lies and the hiding. Which takes skill. I teared up several times, enough that it made it difficult to keep reading. I *felt* the truth in this story viscerally. Times may have changed (somewhat) but I could still understand the hesitance and the fear and defiant joy that make up a queer existence. In some ways it was starkly different than Cat Sebastian's other books, and yet in other ways it felt familiar. She straddled the line between quiet joy and simmering rage at the realities of queer life. It was intense and healing and beautiful. I didn't want it to end. I was bracing myself for tragedy as the book progressed, and I'm so glad that isn't the sort of story Cat Sebastian is telling here. That instead she is telling a story of people who just want to live their lives, and who find the courage in themselves to do so despite the fear and threats. Like Nick, I was dreading reading about another queer tragedy. The characters were beautifully drawn and felt so real. I came to care about them so much and feel like they were my friends. It was masterfully done. The setting also felt incredibly, painfully real. It was 100% believable. *Thanks to NetGalley and Avon for providing an early copy for review.

Favorite Quotes:

Nick has spent years making sure that when people look at him, they don’t see anything that sticks out like a sore thumb—they don’t see anything at all, they hardly even see a person, just a man in a suit.

---

Andy gives him this flat, disappointed look that Nick recognizes because Nick invented it and now he’s going to have to sue Andy for copyright infringement.

---

“Back in his day they didn’t have Band-Aids,” Nick continues. “They just slapped mud on their wounds and went back to drawing the news on the walls of their caves.” “I can still hear you,” Jorgensen says. “It’s nice when the elderly keep their hearing,” Andy observes.

---

“It’s the creme de menthe,” Nick says, eying the green liquid distastefully. “It’s like drinking toothpaste, if toothpaste got ideas above its station.”

---

“A heart doctor, though,” he says in a tone that suggests that getting jilted in favor of cardiologists is all anyone can expect. That maybe Andy should have considered medical school if he didn’t want to get jilted. That Emily did what she had to do, because who could turn down a heart doctor?

---

“I was going to make minestrone soup,” Nick says. “You like soup.” “I do like soup,” Andy agrees. “I take it that’s an invitation, not you taunting me with soup I don’t get to eat.”

---

He feels as if he’s been turned inside out, as if he just learned that a part of his heart is on the outside of his body, in the possession of somebody else entirely.

---

But somehow, a journalist being hurt because he’s on to a dangerous story seems less traumatic than someone being attacked for living his life.

---

Andy worries that it’s his lot in life to be mocked by elderly Italian women.

---

Andy isn’t expecting an epiphany at eight on a Monday morning when he’s still mostly asleep, when his first cup of coffee is still hot in his hand. Honestly, Andy isn’t expecting an epiphany ever.

---

A couple times a year, Nick finds a tale of gay misery and woe on his desk, because apparently Bailey has taken it upon himself to be Nick’s personal sad gay librarian.

----

“You have shitty taste in books. Would it kill you to read something that isn’t totally dismal?” “I’m paid for my taste in books,” Bailey says easily. “And I don’t mind dismal things. I’m trying to be your friend, aren’t I?”

---

Families might usually be bonded by blood, but maybe sometimes they’re bonded by shared secrets, by a delicate mixture of caution and faith, by the conviction that hiding together is better in every way than hiding alone.

---

That might be what turns the tide and makes Nick enjoy the book, at least a little. These men are finding time and energy to flirt and have queer parties and get jealous and fall in love despite bombs and injuries and death. That feels like the truest thing he’s ever read.

---

“Yes, well. I figured, you see.” He stops, looking suddenly at a loss. “People in New York have hearts, too, don’t they?” And Emily must really love him if she’s susceptible to a line like that.

----

#cat sebastian #we could be so good #queer romance #queer historical romance #queer books #romance #historical romance #lgbt+#shilo reads #arc review #netgalley #best books of 2023 #favorites #oh my god they were roommates #friends to lovers #grumpy x sunshine #soft domesticity #disaster bi

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lightcreators · 2 years ago

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@somnium-delicata

Circumstances where pure sincerity could been frontally exposed without been worried over the other party reactions were rare … even though, on main lines, he supposed treating his dramatic act of a role as something he would judge endlessly. He could guess eventually at some point inside circumstances, how he would react, and could only with his current abilities, to offering an comedy about the expected reaction — close to the truth, but not with the densities of feelings the other party should have received in return, not enough emotionally troubled, not enough emotionally attacked by brutality of his words and actions. Couple of things remained deeply personal and involving him personally into corners he didn’t feel comfortable to touch once more — how he was supposed to remain indifferent if he knew some of his expected reactions would bring more digust and rejection down his face ? How he was supposed to fake assertiveness when his insecurities mentally generate self-hate ? Back when he desired see no one, pretending he could seek silence of mourning inside an falsery of accepteance of circumstances, distanced himself of that rotten noblesse sphere, he tried to self-loathing to play a role … without ever managing to give honor to face in mirror. Now he gauged how well he performed by Phantomhive’s decomposing face and how hash Phantomhive try to orally stop him — if he could touch him emotionally in sensitive corners, if he managed to make him uncomfortable, felt anger in his eyes, he won … nevertheless it remained pastime as good old days when he had spent his days in his manor, filling a boredom he was trying painfully to forget. It wasn’t even fun to research annoyance in Phantomhive. It was close of ultimate boredom so much that flavor was different, and he knew he felt sorry for him, and sorry for being incompetent himself.

Eventually, he would playfully laugh about how Phantomhive was trying to apprehend bits of happiness and appreciation in his life through his own fault, as he swam in a bottomless ocean of gloom. For someone already destroyed like him, whose little remaining healthy soul he had left was surely indigestible to any demon, he was preparing to destroy himself what remnant of identity he had left … naturally … eager to abandon a world of which he no longer saw reason for his existence to find one of his metaphoric twin. Personal quest that had destroyed walls of illusions, which were brutally breaking, and where he even stopped reacting while the absurdity of his existence flashed in his face. It was a nameless comedy, carrying a tragedy without brilliance, where each piece of circumstance carried share of symphony. Hence, it was appreciated how an unsuspected joy sublimated every feature of his face. Repayment over others was an common feeling, but rarely the opposite. His whole life won’t be enough for thank Phantomhive to had been an helpful little shit at his side who protected his being … His entire soul won’t be enough for infinite return which could never eternally be fulfilled over main concerned, when the promise between them was this unbreakable bond that still gave him a reason to live, that even Phantomhive would be unable to replace. He was almost pained by it. Phantomhive wasn’t enough to keep him alive while his metaphorical twin was the reason for his existence … he was Alois Trancy ; he was an impostor bearing that name … he was clumsy reflection of a lost piece of memory ; he was only person who could carry his legacy … he probably never managed to mourn, to accept that despite his resurrection, he left among spheres of the witches … he would probably never manage to recover that he had been self-proclaimed ‘sacrifice’ of a disagreement between great powers and a disastrous situation between kings …

He managed to forget, though the entire scene passing in front of him, how much, during so much times, he had been physically troubled by hunger. He never let himself feel that emotion again — and since he was sometimes needy of that domain, god, did he had been annoying with Phantomhive sometimes and fuck rules about sweets ! Even now, it wasn’t memories he wanted reflecting once more, especially in middle of an manor when a long time ago, streets themselves seemed kinder … streets offered freedom of stealing or possibility to find compromise for fullfill the hunger … not be treated as a mere toy with no need … He always thought he managed to overcome the memories of that old asshole, nevertheless, by instants, there were moments when recollections and remembrances imposed themselves. For a long time too, even currently, he was searching to erasing the old asshole existence over his manor. Deleting every reminder everywhere, when decoration change was nothing compared to how transforming must be the atmosphere of that place … He still had Hannah for that, it was some kind of reassurance he had, considering all recollections were distilled by Claude presence. Regardless how many brightness exploded naturally inside his face, he was fully incompetent concerning management of such things. It was part of these independant training things he needed help with, and truly had no idea how to do strict minimun. Naturally, he wanted offering some over some kids in the streets, but preferred stayed away of the light of noblesse oblige — he was supposed to be part of the underground doing that kind of things in an greatest levels. Naturally, he wanted to think over an meal for celebrate it, inviting Phantomhive along since it was too much breads for him … also acting as a reminder, back when he was an child, back before his takeover, he would have desired such things. Would have kept them preciously and would have arranged to please his brother in priority … and idea that another brother could have taken advantage of it broke his heart. He swallowed his distress and sadness before it came back up, keeping a huge enthusiastic and eccentric smile, giving a physical thank you in a sudden hug and touching their face. ❝ It’s a gift that I really appreciate, it’s so nice of you ! ❞ No one was doing anything for him, that was the description that usually came with it. He didn’t know the concept of a 'gift’ and the brief experience had been one of unparalleled envy with Phantomhive — being jealous of what he had was the closest feeling he wanted the same … even if at this moment he would like to have his ability to take a step back while he let himself go in a assumed irresponsibility. ❝ I’ll take good care of it~ I thank you just for want repay me ! ❞ He joyfully smiled.

#somniumdelicata #ic :: alois trancy #( ♔ ) interconnected subplot #long post /#abuse mention /#( answered. )#alois muse decided to emotionally destroy me with his reply #naivety of me to think he won't be nasty

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remsmoonlight · 3 years ago

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— title : a sweet truth

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : john wich x reader

— summary : you get an overwhelming need to share with John how you feel, unable to keep it to yourself anymore, leaving only the good to follow.

— warnings : none, issa soft one

note: my first one shot back and it’s john of course! anyways i need to binge the movies again because this man’s voice was difficult to master this time around, now i will be getting to requests now i have indulged myself oops

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* requests are open ! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The dull crackle that runs mindlessly beneath the audio of the radio is the only sound that can be heard illuminating the space of the bedroom where you and John lay contently together. He’d offered to repair the object, or even buy another but you refused stubbornly — remarking that it gives it a certain endearing charm. You had joked that it reminds you of him. In the sense that while it has a flaw, it was able to bring joy and amusement to a person’s life. It’s humbling to know that even the John Wick was human, that he had his flaws despite being difficult to witness them in the flesh.

It took a lot for John to bare the darkest and most damaged parts of his conscience. He couldn’t go another day where his mind leapt endlessly to conclusions, his mind conjuring haunting images of your departing body that would eventually come to pass — to him, it was inevitable. He fully convinced himself he was hallucinating when you had not retreated in fear, with the look of disgust cosying up to your reflection, but the opposite. He is still a man greatly feared by a whole world beneath yours, yet you still gaze upon him with nothing but warmth.

You will your mind to focus on the words from the small object, yet it’s the heat that is emitting from his body in waves that prevent you from fully taking in what is being said, its presence doing more to provide white noise than entertainment. The minor glint in your gaze turns upwards to drag your sight across the body that half lays on top of you.

Like vines, to be found in a twist of limbs that would be almost difficult to distinguish what belongs to who is a common occurrence, the sense of shielded from the scorching realities that the world bares boldly is an addicting concoction that you can only find with him. Your heart swells tenfold at the mere thought of him and being here in such a simple way that holds so much affection just for two people.

“ What ? “

The suddenness of his voice lifts you from your thoughts that run their own race, a shy lift of your lips can be seen twirling gracefully in response.

“ Nothing, I’m just thinking. “

“ Thinking? “ he asks you, a light hint of laughter gently coating the question with a feather-like touch. “ Are you trying to scare me? “

Eyes widen in response to what he says, a heavy burst of air plummeting to the soft mattress below the two of you. “ Don’t be so rude! “ A short chuckle trails behind your reply, secretly loving the cheeky side of his personality coming out to peek out.

You’ve realised that he has a warmth whenever you’re together, but even still he maintains an air of such seriousness you’re surprised he has not collapsed under the pressure of holding such a wall up with his bare hands, these moments are the kind that you paint mentally — a still of this moment in a thousand shades of gold. Upon your first meeting of his, you’d never associate that with him, with how intimidating and stone faced he was, it would be a honeyed lie if someone would have described him in such a way but here he is. Not a honeyed lie but a sweet tasting truth that you never want to be without again.

“ I’m sorry. “ he apologises as the amusement in his tones still very much present that would aim to refer to him as a hypocrite, but it’s not spoken with vitriol, his words directed towards you rarely contain any harshness. “ Tell me, I’m curious. “

It’s a minor debate that dances with only itself, zig zagging with a biro pen that creates a mess of lines converging at multiple points to create a tangle plot point that should not be as complicated as it’s being made out. Neither of you have muttered the L word, not even under your breath in passing and the one dominating emotion you can feel overwhelming your body entirely is incredibly close to it.. but is it too soon? Even as a description? It’s a fear you can feel tickling your neck from behind, whispering stained words of discouragement, but if you have learnt anything, it’s that hiding your feelings will be worse off in the long run. Never can a human being strive for the euphoria of authentic happiness clutched in their fist when they lock away their thoughts and their desires in a box to gather age and dust — leaving behind a hollow shell of what could have been had it the opportunity to bud and grow.

“ Well.. “ you begin, your sight lowering to meet the sight of his neck, unable to look him in the eyes fully and you approach the topic. “ I was thinking about you. “

“ Yeah? “

“ I’m just.. happy. More than I thought I could be and it’s you I have to thank. “ Your shoulders shrug as best they can from your position laying down on the bed.

“ I think I should be the one saying that. “ he replies softly, his words ringing truer than they could ever be realised to be as he leans down to leave behind a ghost of a peck behind your ear. It’s an action that is short and sweet.

Never did John imagine himself being rewarded for being the architect in more tragedies and more horrors than he could ever recall. Though, he soon realised your presence was rather the opposite, a ticket to a greener field void of bloodied bargains and death, and should he keep you in his life that would be an opportunity he would not let pass him by in a sea of missed chances left to drown due to his lack of motivation. He gazes upon you fondly in affection, a hand reaching up to draw mindless circles in the back of your hair, memories of his last bargain to leave his previous life playing before him as if an old gritty movie.

“ Stop it, John. I haven’t done a thing! “ your nose wrinkles as you refute what he says with a bashful glint that explodes in your gaze. After all the time you’d spent together and you still refuse to see yourself in the way John has painted you in —

“ You’ve done more for me than you realise. “

It feels like yesterday you shared your first kiss, fondly remembering how you’d mentally remarked that it’s so unfair that what is between you should be so perfect, a cruel joke were it not to work out. Though your heart is full of gratitude when you still tell yourself that not a worry should be had, your need for a physical reminder as you move your hand to his clothed back — bringing him closer as if to burn a permanent reminder into your fingertips.

“ I guess that’s why we compliment each other so well, huh? “

A wispy sigh plummets, your thoughts and emotions mixing more and more into a blend of intensity as you fully realise just how much you have fallen and adore the man who shares your bed. It has been such a long time you have had these emotions to this degree rouse from, what has felt like, an endless slumber. Yes, there had been a few who had caught your eye, but compared to the substance that has been created and nurtured from you both, they had nothing more than a water drop in a boundless and enduring sea. It’s a hope of yours that you don’t look foolish before him, getting so emotional over something like this, you scold yourself mentally — trying to pull yourself together before you completely crumble.

“ What’s wrong? “

“ It’s nothing, really. “ you shake your head, accompanying the almost denial. You want to let everything in your heart free, but the question is how to without scaring him off. There’s not much that can scare him, but you’d rather not throw a spanner in the flawless equation.

“ You don’t have to tell me, but it might help if you do. “ John lends a soothing weight in your hand as he interlocks your fingers together, leaving the choice completely up to you, refusing to force you to share something that is so personal to you. “ it’s your call. “

“ It’s nothing crazy.. “

The side of John’s brain that has been hardwired to jump to every scenario imaginable — good and bad, is running rampant. Itching to be prepared so nothing is able to disrupt the perfect day dream of a life that had only been made available through television shows and movies, now that he has it, every day he promises to never let it be ruined. Nothing good can ever occur from ripping away the first drop of water that touches a person starved of it for days, only a troublesome path of anger can walk that path on its twisted and turned limbs.

“ I think it’s time that I tell you how I feel, “ you state, your lips almost devouring your lips by how hard they bite them, a lost thought of how you have not drawn a drop of blood seeping into irrelevancy. “ how I really feel. “

“ Right? “

For the first time, John is completely unable to get a read of you. The apprehension that is emitting off you in strong waves is not something that comforts him fully, though the fact that you speak not from anger and have opted to stay in your current position as opposed to fleeing is the only source of relief he can continue to draw energy from. Curiosity is the only thing that dominates his mind, wanting desperately to hear the next part of your statement.

In his silence, your brows furrow purely from your own thoughts. Mainly in the wonder of how you can approach this while sounding as if you have capacity and are not obsessed with him as some are with their idols. You know that would be something that would probably scare him off. Your fingertips lay a random beat on the top of his hand, you nestle closer to him as to make yourself comfortable — this does feel like the right time. Should it not? You remind yourself that it is part of a plan that the universe has for you, that it is part of a bigger picture you are not allowed to know until the final moment.

“ I just, “ you pause, blinking as you gather your thoughts and your words further. “ It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything remotely close to this. “

Your words are like a cozy kiss goodnight before two lovers depart until the next time they see each other, a warmth that slowly grows in his heart overspills at the sentiment you individually wrap with each word you speak. He can’t help but tip his head ever so slightly, to take in every detail on your features — in his mind, nothing is more so perfect than this moment.

“ What I’m trying to say is, and you don’t have to say anything — “ the rambling leaves your lips so effortlessly, as if to savour the last few moments of normally before the inevitable confession. “ I can’t help but realise how much I am in love with you. “

His eyes widen instantaneously as his features follow suit, his lips part in surprise. With how your speech had begun, it should not have come as a surprise, yet to hear it from your lips is as pleasant as the final summer’s day, surrounded by warmth and an impenetrable energy that shields you from any harm that would befall you. He’d lived the life of a haunting ghost story that it soon became a belief that he was a monster, to hear you in this moment recite something so real is something that is difficult for him to wrap his head around. Maybe he isn’t a monster that has made its peace with the darkness, that there is more for him as a person.

The emptiness is soon replaced by a soft weight on your lips, he has leans down to join you — unable to fight the desire to savour the taste of him as you often do when you kiss. It’s a fight you have not yet one, and it’s a fight you imagine you would prefer losing. Time is no longer a concept, you’re too wrapped up in the concept turned reality that is John Wick, only are you able to concentrate on the burning that his free hand leaves as they slide up and down your waist. If this is a dream, neither of you want to awaken.

“ Who says I’m not feeling the same as you? “

#John Wick imagine #John Wick x reader #john wick oneshot #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction

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dramioneasks · 3 years ago

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HP FESTS: DramioneFanfictionWriters (Part 4)

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Famous Shakespeare Lines, February 2021:

Short Life For A Daffodil by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione and Draco have a wild daughter who likes to pull up daffodils and frustrate her parents, but the duo wouldn't be without their children.

Friends Dont by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - "You don’t choose who you fall for!” “No, because I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here now would I?” Hermione mourns the loss of a relationship.

The Malfoy Mistress by ThebeMoon - M, one-shot - Unable to bear the sight of Bellatrix carving into Hermione Granger at Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy whisks his hated former schoolmate to safety. He should have known better.

Rules of Engagement by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Lucius just had to be difficult about the idea of Draco and Hermione getting married. Will Draco and Hermione allow him to throw his weight around, or will they bring him to heel?

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Popular 90's TV Shows, March 2021:

The Death of Theo Nott by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - “Hermione.” Her head whipped up to see the broken expression in Draco’s eyes. “He wouldn’t kill himself.”

The Night of the Rats by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - What happens when a prank war goes too far?

Perfect Harmony by Talonwillow (TalonWillow) - T, one-shot -Professor Slughorn's star Potions pupil Hermione was tired of being the ugly duckling, so she created a potion that would transform her into a beautiful swan. Everyone seemed to like the shiny new version of her... Well, except for herself and maybe one other. Would Draco Malfoy convince her that what everyone else was seeing was what he saw every day, and would Hermione finally be able to live in Perfect Harmony?

Dramione Go Star Trekking by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Riker has made a pass at Hermione and she doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

Bloody Colonials by Maira - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger has had a long week, and the last thing she wants to do is leave the comfort of her home. But when her best friend asks for her help in dealing with a possible cursed object, what can she do but help? Brownies, Potion-making robe etiquette, and a cursed Nigerian mask all add up to a typical night at Hogwarts. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

The Latest Teenage Drama by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Teenagers. Gotta love em. Teenage dramas? Not so much. Draco and Hermione navigate the perils of unwanted teenage behaviour - 90s family sitcom style.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Around the World, April 2021:

The Assignment by Art3misiA - G, one-shot - Hermione and Draco, Aurors, have been sent to Cape Town on a top secret assignment - to track down a former Death Eater.

Finding Them by KrysKrossZee - T, WIP - After not finding her parents in Austrailia, Hermione enlists Draco's help and the two make their way to Vancouver when they have a new lead.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: The Language of Flowers, May 2021:

Spilled Ink by Maira - M, one-shot - It's nearly Christmas, and things aren't great. Draco Malfoy is still on house arrest due to the Wizengamot being a bag of dicks. Hermione Granger is out of the country on a job, which means he won't see her for a few weeks. And to top it all off, Hermione has sent Draco a plant. A green, spiky plant, for no reason that he can fathom. Oh, and a spelled journal that he's now supposed to write in. Because nothing could possibly go wrong with that plan. Written for the DFW Deal or No Deal Challenge!

Forever by Art3misiA - M, one-shot - Though they may be gone, our memories of them remain forever.

The Little Things by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - When Hermione buys Draco a cup of coffee and leaves it on his desk, it throws Draco through a loop and he wonders what he should get her in exchange.

The Climbing Vine by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - After receiving some startling news, Draco runs out of the house. He receives some advice from a surprising source.

Changing of the Seasons by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - Hermione & Draco find a local park and two unlikely faces to greet them.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Draco's Birthday Soundtrack, June 2021:

Straight to the Heart by AdAsttra - T, one-shot - Draco's ready to tell Hermione how he feels, but Cupid has other ideas.

Stick Around by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione doesn't know why Draco is the only one who makes her feel safe, but she is glad that she is able to get some reprieve from her brain.

Wild and Wired by Maira - M, one-shot - Need your lovin' here beside me, Need it close enough to guide me, I've been hopin' you would find me, You're the biggest part of me. - Hermione was expecting a fun night out with her boyfriend and her friends. She was not expecting ice cubes, sick ponies, and a serenade beautiful enough to melt her heart. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

Let's Get Serious (Please, for the Love of Merlin!) by Art3misiA - G, one-shot - Draco wants to get serious, but Hermione isn't so sure. Will their opposing views make or break them?

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Magical Monsters, July 2021:

There's A Zouwu In My Basement by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - When a creature has broken into the Malfoy Manor dungeon, Draco has to call for help.

Miseria by crochetaway - T, one-shot - Hermione tames a Dementor.

Aegis by Maira - M, one-shot - Their world is in ruins, and their only protection against creatures wanting to kill them is about to fall. They make a plan to trek across the country to Hogwarts, where others have gathered to make a new home within the castle. There, they will be safe. One problem - before they go, there's a queen to kill. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal Challenge.

Fear & Desire by myladymay - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy wants to change his life. He returns to Hogwarts for Eighth Year and finds himself confronted with both his biggest fear and greatest desire, all wrapped up in a Gryffindor tie.

Innocent Monsters by itscometothis - T, 12 chapters - Draco Malfoy thought he had reasonable expectations for his mandatory Eighth Year at Hogwarts, where he would be confined to the grounds as part of his probation. Isolation, hatred, and passing his NEWTs were really all he had in mind. What he wasn't anticipating: 1) Having a small firstie latch onto him like a bloody koala 2) Said firstie adopting an erkling as if they didn’t feed on children. To protect his little nuisance, he’ll have to seek help from uncomfortable places, including the Swottiest Witch of Her Age. Joy of all joys.

Transformed by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Draco and Charlie have a dragon to catch, and time is running out. Meanwhile, Hermione is missing, adding to Draco's woes.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Legendary Duos, August 2021:

Three's a crowd, four's trouble by AnnaRitaLi - M, WIP - p>My sister is right. My life did change that evening. I just don't think Rosalind meant for me to steal her boyfriend, or I don't think I stole him, Draco, not precisely. You cannot steal something that doesn't want to be whisked away. That's my experience, at least, and I've stolen quite a few things over the years. So I can say this with confidence. You can't lose something you never had. But you’ll have to read it in the book, dear. While the Crown doesn’t wish for me to speak out in public, I have been silent for too long. You see, There were three of us in this marriage. And people, the press, have assumed many things over the years about Draco and me. So this book, as you’ll see, it’s my attempt to set the record straight. Yes, there were three of us in this marriage, but there were also much more going on than that. -- This is the story the Crown never wanted to get out. In other words, I bring you the x-rated version of the book ‘Diana - her true story - in her own words’.’ It’s the Dramione as Charles & Diana AU you didn't know you needed.

The Marquess and the Kitchen Girl by Art3misiA - E, 8 chapters - Draco Malfoy is the son of the most powerful Duke in Wiltshire. One day, he will be the ruler of a large duchy. Hermione Granger lives happily with her parents - that is, until tragedy strikes. Two children will become friends, and gradually discover a forbidden love that seems as if it might one day defy the odds. Alas, this is a tale of doomed lovers.

In Her Arms by KrysKrossZee - M, one-shot - Draco's worked his way up through Voldemort's ranks but it would seem that all of his work has been for nothing when Dolohov captures a new prisoner.

The Happiness I Seek by Maira - M, one-shot - To those without a soulmate, the world is devoid of colour. They say that if you are lucky enough to meet your soulmate, everything changes. The world is brighter, food is richer, and you find a love you never knew you needed. Draco Malfoy has never been lucky. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

darling! by itscometothis - M, one-shot - When Draco and Hermione are invited to help demonstrate a path forward for Wizarding Britain and its reconciliation, neither really feel like they can refuse - Hermione for moral reasons and Draco for practical ones (read: Azkaban sounds bad). But they have very different ideas on how to play up this fake relationship. Written for DFW's Deal or No Deal: Legendary Duos - Kermit and Ms. Piggy. It's as ridiculous as you expect.

A Thousand Ships by floorcoaster - M, WIP - Draco Malfoy knows what he wants, and he's not afraid to reach out and take it.

Quiet My Demons by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - “Unhappy, darling?” He murmured, his cigar placed on its resting dish, dashed out - a little puff of smoke rising into the air between them before disappearing. “Yes, completely.”

I Love Draco by crochetaway - G, one-shot - A few slice of life scenes with Hermione, Draco, and Scorpius ala I Love Lucy style!

DFW's Deal or No Deal: The Final Word, September 2021:

Crime & Punishment by itscometothis - T, 12 chapters - TRIAL TRANSCRIPT OF DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY IS FORMALLY CHARGED WITH THE FOLLOWING: CONSPIRACY TO COMMIT MURDER AIDING AND ABETTING A MURDER USE OF UNFORGIVABLE CURSES: IMPERIUS (2 COUNTS) USE OF UNFORGIVABLE CURSES: CRUCIATUS (47 COUNTS) PARTICIPATING IN A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION -- I don’t regret hoping. I thought I might, at the beginning, do you remember? But I don’t. I regret nothing about you, my love. Eternally yours, Draco -- A story of hope, punishment, and the nature of justice told in trial transcripts, visits in an interrogation room, and letters.

Boats Against the Current by AlannaTCooper - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy is trying to escape his past by running as far away as he can. But the past - and his nightmares - keep pulling him backwards.

By His Side by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione is lonely but there's at least one person who can break through her loneliness.

Trying To Live by IzzieStellar - T, one-shot - After her husband dies, Hermione can’t seem to remember how to live and her friends vow to help her.

In the Dead of Night by AdAsttra - G, one-shot - Hermione and Draco are some of the last people to leave Hogwarts under the veil of a cold, dark night.

This fest is ongoing.

#dramionefanfictionwriters #Fests/Exchanges/Challenges #dramione

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bloomyagi · 4 years ago

Text

bewitched (m)

summary: bakugou has always loved you.

pairings: bakugou katsuki x f!reader, hawks x f!reader (nsfw)

genre: characters are aged up, 20+, pro heroes au

warnings: allusions to cheating, angst, porn w/ lots of feelings, shower sex, kinda subby bakugou, he’s basically lovesick n soft for u, keigo is a good birdie, he would never do this irl

length: 3,518

notes: hello! my first bnha fic, please be kind <3 please let me know what you think! i’ve been so obsessed w/ jjk & bnha recently skdjkjf. send help

It comes down softly at first. The droplets whispering against windshields, ghosting across bare arms, a trick of the light. Then a pause, like the darkening clouds are reconsidering their decisions. There is no wind, no anger in the way it pelts down, darkens the concrete. Like resignation, like relief. It soaks bone, sends most civilians packing as they duck under awnings and flee into shops in anticipation of a short-lived flare.

But it is summer, and the rain is welcome as a remedy against the oppressive heat. Many onlookers merely move their belongings closer to avoid the stream, gaze out glass windows longingly. Some find inspiration, others find peace.

You stand in the middle of it all, drenched and unmoving as you watch your lover wrap his arms around his secretary, and you wonder whose mood this pathetic fallacy is expected to reflect as you look across to meet familiar eyes.

He, too, mirrors your stance. Clothes sodden, yet the nature of its designs only lends to plaster themselves closer to his skin. His irises are that bright, burning red. He is not fizzling, heated against the affair before him. Instead, his gaze is trained on you.

There is no fury, no sadness, no emptiness. His gaze is not hollow, it is instead strangely warm. Your chest squeezes, tightening in the way you experience when you read a novel laced in tragedy, that welling feeling of anguish and sorrow.

His hands are shoved in his pockets, and though his eyes remain fastened to you, he makes no step to move closer.

The sky lightens, a thin streak of sun peering through in a solitary beam. The sounds seem to press close again, like a bubble popping in your ear.

The summer storm is tempered as quickly as it appeared, the sound of life—laughter, the splashing of sneakers drowning in newly formed puddles—and the lingering smell of renewed earth and the chirping of birds as they shake off their wings to take flight.

Water drips silently down the pair of gorgeous wings before you. They flutter briefly, flicking off the thin layer that pooled on its surface, before unfurling to fold over her. He pulls her closer, separating only every so often to breathe.

Shameless, is all you think plainly. And you are—ashamed. That feeling catches you by surprise, breath caught in your throat as the feeling expands, takes root in your lungs. It is that hindsight, that disappointment—at yourself—that has you lowering your eyes.

He is still looking at you, even as someone squeals and a crowd gathers, pushing and shoving to press close, stays rooted to his spot, watching you, even as the couple finally break apart, dishevelled—she adjusts her pencil skirt, re-buttons her blouse; he runs a hand through his golden locks, fixes his half-open shirt—and Hawks’ chuckle rings across the street, one arm braced around her waist as he signs autographs and takes photos. She is glowing beside him, all smiles and shrill laughter. Her nails, perfectly manicured and sharp, digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. He likes it.

You stifle a dry laugh. Turning on your heel, you disappear into the thickening crowd.

He himself is being pawed at, hands fawning at his exposed arms, clutching at him like he is fresh off the conveyer belt.

He waits until he can no longer discern your retreating figure before bearing a half-smile at the crowd. He takes the pen that is shoved into his face, and he begins signing autographs.

Time and experience have tempered his constitution. He has accepted his flaws, worked on them until he could proudly stand on the same stage as his—friends. Because that is what they are—these people that have helped him grow, comforted his trauma, stayed with him despite it all. What else could he call them but the very things they are—they are the pillar of his strength. Because of you, I learned I could be strong for the things I care about.

He is not number one. He has no need for such a title, no need for such a goal anymore. He is no longer the brash, easily angered teenager that charged for the strongest.

“I don’t care what they call me, what rank I am, or what they think of me. I only want the power to protect these people. That’s it.” He thinks back to your words.

You are not often solemn. You laughed a lot, the slow-appearing crinkles to the corner of your eyes a physical testament to your innate joy. You liked to take delight in the ordinary things. Perhaps that is what drew him to you—that strength. To shoulder the burden of your chosen role in this society, to have the bravery to smile amongst the suffering.

There was always an unbidden heat that surged in his chest when he thought of you. That odd feeling of a knot tying itself in his stomach when his skin brushed yours. When you fell from the height of a skyscraper, half-conscious from defeating a new breed of nomu, his heart stuttered and leapt in halting beats to throat as he split from his team, their screams for you ringing in his ears, the rush of badump-badump closing in rapidly, pushing his beaten body to its limits, faster, faster, faster—please! Who was he praying to at the time? He was begging anyone who was listening to give him that push—the gap was too big, you were too far, he was too tired, too useless, too broken—he slammed into you with enough force to compel blood up his throat.

He spat it to the side quickly, not bothering to wipe himself clean before he turned to you. The first thing he registered was warmth. You were limp in his hold, on the edge of passing out, exhaustion lining every curve of your face. Your lips quirked, eyes closed.

“Hurts like hell,” you slurred. “Falling from heaven.”

He stared at you, blinking the blood from his lashes.

And then he threw his back and laughed. It was a full-bodied, uproarish laughter. The type that rumbled from his chest. He shook, though he was careful not to jostle you, and you managed a quiet chuckle.

The adrenaline faded from his body, and he hiccupped as he slumped onto the concrete beam behind him. The ice receded from his veins.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured. It was a quiet plea. Don’t do that ever again, is what he really wanted to say, but how could he? This was the occupational hazard of your shared line of work. This was the risk. His eyes burned, half-lidded as he held you closer.

You couldn’t lift a single limb on your body, so you lean into him.

“No promises.”

It was enough. Your voice was raspy, drained, but there was a sincere lilt to it.

He wanted to say something more, then, but first responders arrived and whisked you separate ways before he could gather his thoughts.

He regrets it, to this day. Perhaps if he had said something then, said something sooner, the scene would have played out differently.

He does not have many regrets, have long resolved to move on from his past and mistakes. “What a useless emotion,” you once told him. “Don’t wallow. Mourn and move on. Do better. That’s what you owe. That is what you are owed.”

But this—this he will always regret.

He finds you on the roof of your penthouse.

“I like it. Being able to see everything from up here.” The first time he’d peered over the edge, he’d been enlisted for furniture rearranging. You handed him a beer, beckoning him over, jerking your head to the scenery below. And it was—breathtaking. You were breathtaking. He hadn’t even bothered to entertain a cursory glance. It was summer then, too, and the evening breeze was light as it brushed your locks back. Lights began to flicker as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. He briefly considered making a similar move.

But moving was a hassle, only further proven by the efforts of today, so he dismissed the thought quickly, taking another swig. He was sweaty, a layer of grime a film over his skin from the manual labour he’d been voluntold for most of the afternoon. It was petty work compared to his—their—day job, but it was still a strangely refreshing workout.

“What are you feeling?” His steps are muted, voice faint. It carries on the back of a shallow gust.

You don’t spare him a look, staring into the distance. You’re sitting, one leg thrown casually over the ledge, the other pulled to your stomach. He’d made an off-hand comment once about adding some railings, but you’d rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully.

Pussy, you called. He chuckled. Like we don’t experience enough life-threatening dangers on a regular basis, he snarked.

All the more reason, then, you shot back. He fell silent then, the pulsing in his throat returning.

He could never really read you. Eyes are the window to the soul. He scoffs internally. Whoever said that must’ve known it was a load of bullshit. Your eyes never said anything. But his—his said everything he couldn’t, and more.

You hum. “Would it be cliché if I said I wasn’t surprised, only disappointed?”

“No.”

“Then I’m disappointed. I had hoped, I suppose, that he would choose differently.”

He tastes the words that I would be enough between, and the sigh of to change him that escapes your lips.

“You knew who he was when you went into this,” he says quietly. No judgement—he is not reminding you of your poor decisions, rather striking a conversation in the same manner one would inquire about the weather.

Quant, you think. And a few years ago, you would have added out of character. But now it is not so—he has grown into himself well.

You tilt your head back. He leans against the wall, arms crossed across that well-built chest of his, shirt straining against the muscle. He’s so tall now—so much taller than anyone had expected him to be. That wild, unruly blond hair of his has remained the same, appearing spiky but soft to the touch. And his eyes—they are gentle but retain the ferocity he is well-known for.

“Yes,” you say after a while. “That is why I am not surprised. But these feelings won’t just disappear overnight because of this.”

He’s quiet for a while, those crimson orbs of his trailing over your expression. You don’t know what he finds, but he must understand your position because he nods.

“I’ll wait for you.”

This—this is a surprise. Somehow, he always manages to surprise you.

“After all this time?” You ask softly.

“Always,” he says quietly.

He leaves, and when you return to the house, you pick up the keys he left on your counter. Twirling them on one finger, you smile to yourself.

Thank you. You know he knows.

“I tried to be the person you wanted me to be,” he says.

“I tried, I really did. But this is who I am, who they made me. I can’t change. I’m sorry,” he says.

He says a lot more, you think, but you’ve long since stopped listening. He knows these are only flimsy barriers that excuse his behaviour. He knows he is not this person. He is not broken, he is worthy of much, much more. He just needs to believe it. They took everything from him. That is what he thinks, how he lives. Like he has no real purpose.

Instead, he is stopped, wings flaring as you reach for him. You smell familiar, and that ache in his heart deepens. He will forever regret losing you, but you deserve more. He is not good for you, and he is not your responsibility. His growth is his obligation. Perhaps, when he is ready, he will find you again.

But by then, he thinks, burying his face into your shoulder, you will have already chosen differently.

“I love you, baby bird. I will always love you,” he presses these words against your neck in a soft whisper, voice cracking, like a prayer, he tries to sear his truth into your skin. He tastes salt on his tongue.

And, between it all, he traces I’m sorry.

You squeeze him once.

You know.

“Hey.”

You’re uncharacteristically shy, cheeks puffing in that sweet smile of yours.

That sharp, familiar warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of you perched on the arm of his leather couch. You look comfortable, relaxed, like you—belonged here, his mind supplies helpfully.

He steps out of his boots, unbuckling his support items and setting them on the counter to clean later. He’s a little worse for wear tonight, shoulders tight from chasing rogue villains the past few hours. The tension seeps away steadily, though, the longer he drinks you in.

You look good. You always look good. Gorgeous, even more so when you’re tired and dirty, covered in blood and dust and debris. It’s been so long since you patrolled together, pulled to opposite ends of the city the past few months.

“Hey,” he says back.

“Shower?” You take his hand.

He trails behind you, nearly tripping over in his haste to follow, failing to register your words in time. This must be a dream, he decides. And he will play along, as he always does in these fits of delirium. He will hold you and have you and love you in ways he cannot begin to describe, and then he will lose you as dawn breaks and he wakes to an empty bed. But he falls anyway, does it over and over until he feels like he will go insane from the sheer longing. He is addicted to you.

You haven’t spoken, not really, since that night on the rooftop. So you, being here, without any prior warning, touching him, smiling at him, leading him to his fucking shower—this must be a dream, right?

You push open the door to his bathroom. It’s big, he’s always been meticulous about his health, and enjoys his fair share of long soaks and hot showers.

He realizes a beat too late that you’re undressing him. He exhales sharply when you tug his shirt off, but before he could say anything, you murmur, “You smell like caramel. You always do. It’s just a little stronger than usual.”

“Oh.” He sounds a little breathless, a little strangled. Unlike him, but he has never really been anything but himself with you. He’s still discovering new sides to himself, it seems.

Oddly enough, he’s the farthest thing from embarrassed as he steps out of his pants and boxers. He’s flushed, but the heat that floods his veins is nothing short of delicious. It makes his head spin, makes him lean into your touch.

You strip quickly, tossing your costume fabric aside his for laundry. He sucks in an audible breath at the sight of your nude body. Beautiful, he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat, and he reaches out with a shaky hand to thumb the smear of grease on your cheek.

You smile, pushing open the frosted glass doors and pull him inside.

The temperature is perfect. He likes it hot on days like today, muscles relaxing as the water washes away his fatigue.

“You know me so well,” he says.

You push him under the stream, water cascading between the two of you. His locks flatten under the pressure, falling over his eyes. You run a hand through his hair, pushing it back as you press yourself flush against him.

“Yes,” you answer. “I do.”

And then you kiss him. A low purring echoes through the space. Ah, it’s me, some part of him thinks absently. He opens his mouth instantly, tongue lapping at yours, arms coming around to hold you close. He can distinctly feel the way your perked nipples rub against his pectorals. He can taste you. And you are sweet, so sweet and the lewd sounds of your make out reverberating in the room so vividly he knows this is not, in fact, a mere conjuration of imagination after all.

He loathes to part from you, but he does. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring him to reality. He looks at you searchingly, beseechingly. If you are here, you can only be here for one reason.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry, I know it must’ve been painful. I’m here now, I promise I’ll never leave again,” you say, cupping his cheek.

His breath catches. His eyes flutter shut.

“You promise?” He sounds so small, so weak. Vulnerable. He would’ve hated that, once, but he is no longer that person. Today, he can accept he is weak for you. Always has been. And that’s okay, he thinks. He doesn’t have to be strong all the time.

“Yes. I promise, Katsuki.” You press your forehead against him, standing on your tippy toes.

He kisses you again, swallows your dreamy sigh, one hand on the back of your head, the other crushing your body against his. He wants you close, needs you close. Needs to feel you, this is real, right?

“Yes,” you whisper, and he realizes belatedly that he spoke aloud. “This is real. I’m here. I’m right in front of you.” You take his hand and press it against your upper rib cage, where your heart beats. Fast, like the wings of a hummingbird.

He can’t help it. He takes you against the wall, so pent up from years of pining he can hardly think, rutting into you like a teenager in heat, feeling like he’s a virgin again, every trace of your skin so new, he maps them out first with his eyes, then his hands and mouth. He slows down when you call his name in a haze of pleasure, takes the time to worship you, find what makes you tick, watches your expression raptly as he rolls his hips, as he tweaks your nipples, palms your ass, litters a necklace of freshly bloomed violets on your collarbone.

He’s panting your name, you’re murmuring praises in his ear, tugging at his locks and biting down on his shoulder and he cums so hard his vision whitens.

The two of you slide down, his legs giving out in the aftershocks, until he’s sitting on the floor of his shower and you’re curled up on his lap.

The water is—miraculously—still hot.

You lay there for a while, and he catches his breath between lazy kisses, enjoying the way your hands roam his chest languidly.

Finally, he stands, letting you down reluctantly to actually clean yourselves. You giggle at the pout that forms when your feet touch the ground once more.

You wash his hair, massaging methodically as he dips his head back to let the foam drain. He takes great pleasure in this, at the way you spread a generous amount of body wash on your palms and begin scrubbing the grime from his skin.

He jolts forward, letting out a low groan as you squeeze his flaccid cock teasingly. He glances away, eyes half-lidded, at the heated look you give him when his cock hardens immediately.

“You underestimate how easily you turn me on,” he says plainly. Not a hint of embarrassment. And why should he be? You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I love it,” you murmur.

You rinse him off before turning. His length presses against your ass, but he makes no move to seek anything further, focused on washing you.

Satisfied, he turns off the water.

You step out, toweling each other off. He pulls you to him, inhaling deeply. He likes that you smell like him now.

Afterwards, you are tucked in close, covers pulled up and he’s buried his face in your chest, bare legs tangled.

Perhaps it’s the novelty, the feeling of finally, but you can’t get enough of one another. You wake each other multiple times throughout the night, clawing at each other, ripping his boxers and your—his—shirt from each other until you were pressed tightly together, bare, a thin sheen of sweet already coating your bodies.

A thin strip of moonlight peeks through the cream curtains. He gazes up at you, thinks everything in his life has been leading up to this moment. That warmth swelling again, as it always does, so intense it has him arching his back. You touch his cheek, smiling. Something lands on the side of his pillow. Ah. You lean down, lips warm as they kiss away his tears.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He closes his eyes.

Thank you.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bakugo smut #hawks smut #bakugo x you #hawks x you #bakugou x reader

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lorcan-minus-lys-scamander · 3 years ago

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Emerald and Clover

Today would be the last day of a long chapter in Lorcan and Lily’s life, and the first page of another. They both had known it was coming since the first time they stepped out of their little row boat and onto the rocky shore in front of Hogwarts. It was their graduation day, something that in their world marked their full acsent into adulthood. Their seventeenth birthdays had marked the beginning of such a transition, leaving the two in a sort of limbo between adult and child. But now the change was complete and once they were handed their diplomas they would turn away from this hollowed place that had fostered this growth and never return. It was daunting, even for Lorcan who looked forward to the future with eager, curious eyes.

But never had he thought he’d be walking across the stage without Lysander by her side. And if you asked him a few months ago, he wouldn’t have believed Johiah to be absent either. Yet only a mere month ago tragedy, cruel and corrosive, had drawn a line between the groups, between even the twins. What had happened to Johiah had wounded her in ways Lily and Lorcan couldn’t even wrap their heads around. The only one who could understand her all consuming grief was Lysander. After all. . .the baby had been his.

Perhaps it was that event, Lorcan reflected, that had marked their true leap into adulthood. It wasn’t just the fact Joey and Lys lost their child that had stolen their innocence, it was the cruelty of how the act had occured. To know the horrors people were capable of, to know that even a father may hurt his child. They had all met a monster that day, several in fact, and Johiah, their dearest friend, had grown up in their den.

Needless to say, Joey and Lys didn’t return to school, but Lorcan and Lily, well they had less of a choice. While they were pained for their friends’ loss, and for the loss of someone they would have loved as well, it was still not their cross to bear. So Lily and Lorcan had returned to Hogwarts, with only each other this time. They took comfort in each other in every conceivable way. Physically, emotionally, even mentally. Some days comforting each other looked like bringing the other food to their dorm when the tears wouldn’t stop and it was too hard to leave their bed. Other days it was holding hands in the astronomy towers trying to find joy in the things they always had. Other days. . .other days Lorcan would find himself inside Lily as they learned what it was to be human again. Every time there were tears, and every time the other would kiss them away.

“You ready for forever?” Lorcan asked Lily once he finally found her in the crowd of seventh years. They were bearing all black robes this time, for the first time no longer seperated by house, but instead standing together as an entire grade, ready to take on the world together. Instead of in the Great Hall, Graduation was held outdoors by the Black Lake, making use of the beautiful summer weather. A stage had been brought out for the graduates to walk across and for the Head of Houses and Headmistress were sat. In front of the stage, hundreds of chairs houses the excited family members of the seventh years who were sat in neat rows to the left of the stage. McGonagal had tried to put them in alphabetical order, Lorcan in particular wasn’t having it. He wanted to sit next to Lily and walk into the next part of his life together with her. It only seemed fitting, they had done everything together all ready after all, and if things went according to plan, they would continue to.

Lorcan had a plan for after the ceremony when they would return to Potter manner for a graduation party. He would get Harry alone and finally ask him what he had been meaning to since the night he spent with Lily in the Astronomy tower. Lorcan had known his entire life that he wanted to spend the rest of his days with Lily Potter, but that night she had affirmed to him that she felt the same. So he would do right by her and by their culture and ask her father for her hand.

McGonagal took the stage finally, and a hush fell over the crowd and students. Lorcan smiled, something that had been hard to do recently and brought their interlocked hands to his lips, kissing Lily’s knuckles.

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grace-pricilla-taylor · 3 years ago

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A Girl, Her Gun, and Their Story

It all started with a letter. "Dear Eleanor Morris, My name is Grace Pricilla Taylor. I am a member of the Van Der Linde Gang. For years, I have run from the truth of what had happened between my family and the Pinkerton Detective Agency. In the wake of it all, I have found the truth and while it is a hard reality to face, I am ready to speak the truth about the events that took place while I was with them. I have followed your articles and while I don't find comfort in telling my story, I believe you would do it justice. Please, bear in mind that this story is mine and I can only tell it from my perspective. Which includes death, tragedy, pain, joy, and love. I believe you will help me tell this story to the world with little to no twisting of my words or fables of a lost gang and its fallen members. I will be arriving in Saint Denis Friday evening by train. I will be staying at the Bastille Saloon if you wish to explore this further. With care, Grace Taylor." When she did arrive in the town, memories of her friends flooded her. It was as if she could hear their voices, their laughs, the sound of deafening gunshots, and even feel the familiar touch of one Javier Escuella. For her, this town was haunted. Even the humidity of the swampland didn't phase her the way the ghosts of her past did. She had grown up here. Hidden away in the old cathedral, sheltered from the harsh realities of the world by a God she no longer believed in and educated deep within the walls of the orphanage. She sat alone at a table in the bar of the Bastille, a drink in front of her untouched. Grace did not look like a woman who had claimed to spend her first year as an adult with a gang. No, she looked proper in her fitted dress and tamed red curls falling past her shoulders. She had aged a little, her eyes had lines in the outside corner, smile lines dented her cheeks but were well hidden by the dimples there. It'd been years since she even stepped foot in any of the surrounding territories. After the gang fell, she ran as far away as she could, straight to Arizona. But now she was back to reclaim her past and tell a woman she did not know everything she knew about Dutch van der Linde and the gang she'd once been associated with. The young woman stopping at her table made Grace look up with haunted eyes. "Miss Morris, I take it?" @sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins

#Im so sorry this took so long #grace taylor #a world unknown #eleanor morris #rdo oc

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

Note

Do you know any good movie aus? Not as in they're actors, but fics written based on movie plots?

Hey Nonny!!

OHHHH! This is fantastic! Because I actually have ANOTHER ask looking for crossovers too, and the list is HUGE. So I’ve used this opportunity to split the list up into two. This one here is for my MFL list, and if anyone has any of their own to suggest, please add them to this list!

So, check out Below!

CROSSOVERS and FUSIONS (Feb 2021) Pt. 1.5 [FICS TO READ]

See Also:

Fairy Tales and Fantasy

TV, Movies, and Books AU (Fantasy Pt. 2)

Wonderful Life AU

Sherlock / Hannibal Crossovers?

Science Fiction / Fantasy

Faes / Faeries

Disney-esque Fics

Moulin Rouge AU

Crossovers and Fusions Pt 1

Two More Miracles by PatPrecieux (T, 221 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Angst With Happy Ending, 221B Ficlet, Temporary Character Death) – Tragedy and miracles go hand in hand.

Here, Though the World Explode, These Two Survive by TheTyger (G, 1,194 w., 2 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Post-TRF, Ineffable Husbands, Fluff, Reunion, Rings, Hurt/Comfort) – Tomorrow, it would be three years from that day. Three years with no rude text messages, no experiments being conducted while London slept, no body parts in the fridge. And John still sometimes caught himself buying extra milk and looking for cases and making two coffees.

Just the Book by Carenejeans (G, 1,495 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Humour, Aziraphale’s Bookshop) – John's looking for a book. It's Aziraphale's bookshop, but Crowley provides customer service.

The Case of the Missing.... by Beth H (G, 2,601 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock Crossover || Case Fic) – Crowley has gone missing, and Aziraphale hasn't a clue how to go about finding him. Luckily, help comes from above...or rather, from the side.

The Curious Case of the Missing Antichrist by Aedemiel (G, 2,865 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock Crossover || Vignette, Case Fic, Desperation, Bad Ideas) – What if Aziraphale and Crowley had consulted the great consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, about finding Adam Young?

Eye of the Storm by Calais_Reno (G, 2,996 w., 1 Ch. || The Day After Tomorrow AU || Survival, Cold Weather, Boy Scout John, No Major Character Death) – Weather has become the fifth horseman of the apocalypse.

Nice and Accurate Deductions by htebazytook (T, 3,179 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Romance, Humour, Fluff) – Sherlock drags John to a certain bookshop in Soho.

Snake In The Flat by PatPrecieux (T, 3,293 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Magical Realism, Fluff, Humour, Ineffable Husbands) – There can be a snake in the grass, snakes on a plane and now there's a snake in the flat.

The Picture of Sherlock Holmes by CarmillaCarmine (M, 3,306 w., 1 Ch. || Victorian Dorian Gray AU || Angst, Paris, London, Travel, Painting, Major Character Death, Opera, Captain John, First Meetings) – Sherlock Holmes, a rich and frivolous man, after a lifetime of debauchery finally falls in love. His heart chooses Captain Watson.

The Old Town by a_different_equation (T, 3,573 w., 1 Ch. || Hans Christian Anderson Fusion || Magical Realism, Christmas, Fairy Tale Elements, Love Stories, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Museums, Sweet Sherlock) – Once upon a time there were two boys. This is the story how once upon December, they found the missing Christmas Spirit, true love and new beginnings. A Queer fairytale for all seasons.

Holmes vs. Harkness by coinin (T, 3,960 w., 1 Ch. || Torchwood / HHGTTG Fusion || Crack, Mystrade) – In which Captain Jack gets in a little over his head and is introduced to the myriad joys of bureaucracy, Mycroft is smug, the Guide offers up some helpful advice, John Watson doesn't share, and, in a strange turn of events, Jack doesn't get laid even once.

Perfect by TrufflesTheMushroom (T, 3,984 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || The Apocalypse) – Crowley and Aziraphale have made a huge mistake. It's the end of the world and it all boils down to one fight. Crowley has picked John Watson. Aziraphale has picked Sherlock Holmes.

Limbo by Calais_Reno (T, 4,070 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Waiting Rooms, Ineffable Bureaucracy, Paperwork, Explosions, Apocalypse, Second Chances, Declarations of Love, Nobody Dies) – Ordinarily Sherlock would be quite impatient by now with all this pointless waiting (for what?), but at the moment he feels as if he has all the time in the world.

The Baker Street Flat by Anonymous (PG-13, 5,000-20,000 w., 7 Parts || Lake House Crossover || Angst, Romance, LIVEJOURNAL Comments Fic) – John’s pretty sure it’s a sign of mental imbalance — of which he has been all too frequently accused of late — that he is actually entertaining the possibility that he is communicating with a total stranger two years in the future via the magic mail slot on the door of his new flat. He certainly won’t be mentioning this at next week’s session. On his way out the door to interview for a part-time position at a local surgery, another meeting where he has no intention of mentioning his most recent hobby, he drops a fairly sarcastic note: If you’re really from 2012, is the world about to end?

In the Shadows by Laur (M, 5,029 w., 1 Ch. || Loose Shutter Island Fusion || Disturbing Imagery, Psychological, Angst, Major Character Death, Grief/Trauma) – Do you believe in ghosts? When Sherlock’s eyes snap to him they are anguished.

come be my april fool by a_different_equation (M, 6,473 w., 1 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Writer!Sherlock, Est. Rel., Fluff / Humour, Baking, Marriage Proposal, Military Kink, Domestics, POV John, Romance, Sherlock Wears Glasses, Sweet Sherlock, Bookstores, Queer Themes) – After leaving ‘The Great British Bake Off’, Sue Perkins has written a book about Victorian baking. Tonight, on April 1st, she is reading at ‘The Bard’, Mike Stamford’s bookstore in central London. It is the exact same spot where John Watson, battered and bruised, had learned all about his magnificent bastard – one Mr. Sherlock Holmes, famous gay crime fiction writer – for the first time. A story about found family, DRAMAtical lesbians, how to react when your boyfriend has a military kink but he doesn't want to act on it, oh, and popping the question. Sequel to 'i read your book, you magnificent bastard'. Part 2 of Magnificent Bastard!AU

The Babadook by CatieBrie (T, 6,886 w., 1 Ch. || Babadook Fusion || Post-TRF, Horror, Demonic Possession, Violence, Halloween, Grief, Angst with Happy Ending) – “A children’s book,” John mutters as he flips it open. The pages are scrawled with beautiful charcoal lines and thick black ink. The cover, bright red, edges the open pages and something tugs at the back of John’s brain. It’s a familiar feeling, black and tarrish and thick in his thoughts. He shakes it off and picks the book up off his bed, turning so that he can sit on the edge and spread the book out across his knees. If it’s in a word or it’s in a look, you can’t get rid of the Babadook. He turns the page, ignoring the pressure building beneath his chest. There’s a closet on one page; paper doors meant to be opened by the reader flutter as John reads the text on the other page.

What To Do With An Atypical Animal Within by HarveyDangerfield & swimsalot (E, 7,804 w. || Harry Potter AU || Animagus, Porn With A Little Plot, Tail Porn) – Sherlock is determined to be an animagus. But what happens when it isn't a fox or a horse or a dog he's turning into?

The Lonely by elwinglyre (E, 7,888 w., 1 Ch. || Twilight Zone AU || Major Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Firsts, Sad Ending) – Witness if you will a distant planet with a dungeon made of desert sand and mountain stone. This planet holds one inmate, a man wrongly accused, serving a life sentence. His only solace, his notebook and the thought of the day when the supply ship brings him a pardon. Instead, salvation comes to John Watson in a large box and a visitor from The Twilight Zone.

Friend by esama (G, 7,909 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Character Death, Kid Fic) – Sherlock finds the skull when he's five.

Spell It Out by prettysailorsoldier (M, 8,344 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Fusion || Teenlock, Christmas, Love Potion/Spell, Pining Sherlock) – Remaining at Hogwarts over break has become something of a tradition for Sherlock and John, staying behind together ever since their very first year, but, when Irene throws a gift of doctored coconut ice into the mix, plans quickly change, even if John doesn't. Part 6 of 25 Days of Johnlock

The Long Goodbye by elbereth (M, 8,367 w., 1 Ch. || Time Traveller’s Wife AU || Doomed Timelines, Time Travel) – Sherlock travels in time. The ending is known even before they meet, yet they choose to live this love. One of them knows the past, one of them knows the future, yet their deepest secret is safe from each other. Limited time, but unlimited love.

Sugar & Spice by Ttime42 (T, 8,476 w., 1 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || First Kiss, Baking) – Sherlock Holmes and John Watson compete on The Great British Bake Off.

Pygmalion by ancientreader (T, 9,136 w., 2, Ch. || Pygmalion AU || Magical Realism) – The spell to turn a statue into an animate being has been illegal in the UK for a hundred and seventy years when the -- body? -- is found on Hampstead Heath. It changes everything.

Am I the Current (Tiger) King of England? by Dee_Laundry (T, 9,360 w., 1 Ch. || Tiger King Fusion || Post-S4, Dreams, Friendship, John’s Sexuality, Sherlock’s Sexuality, Quarantine/CoVID-19, Past Character Death, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Dom/Sub, First Kiss) – “I had the weirdest dream last night,” John said. Seven times.

I Could Try by Arcwin (T, 9,583 w., 5 Ch. || Greek Mythology Crossover || Post-TRF, Orpheus and Eurydice Myth, POV John, Pining John, BAMF John, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Horror, Angst with Happy Ending) – John is grieving Sherlock's death post Reichenbach until one day, he sees the violin case, and something inside him tells him to pick it up. Crossover between BBC Sherlock and the Greek tragedy Orpehus and Eurydice, wherein Eurydice is killed for her beauty and taken to the Underworld. Orpheus, being the son of Apollo (the God of Music and Medicine) travels to the Underworld to convince (via playing his lyre) Hades and Persephone to let Eurydice go. Orpheus then must travel with Eurydice behind him, not looking back, until they exit to the land of the living.

Puzzlebox by standbygo (E, 9,867 w., 5 Ch. || Hellraiser Fusion || True Love, Supernatural Elements, Psychological Horror, First Kiss, Post S2, Angst with Happy Ending) – A love story with horror. A horror story with a happy ending.

you are a paradigm by 1electricpirate (M, 10,013 w. || Harry Potter AU || Wizard!John / Muggle!Sherlock, Magic) – Sometimes, only sometimes, when Sherlock is very far away and absolutely guaranteed not to return for at least three hours, John sits on the sofa and lets the tea make itself. In which John is (reluctantly) a wizard, Mycroft is (apparently) omniscient, and Sherlock is (surprisingly) oblivious. Part 1 of More Things Than Are Dreamt Of

Already Gone by johnwatso (M, 10,078 w., 8 Ch. || Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Fusion || Non-Linear Narrative, Memory Loss, Ambiguous / Open Ending) – Dear Mr Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes has had John Watson erased from his memory. Please never mention their relationship to him again. Thank you, Lacuna Inc.

A Real Deal by toyhto (M, 10,339 w., 1 Ch. || Black Mirror-Inspired || Science Fiction, Post-TRF, Canon Divergence) – Please be real, he thought and pulled Sherlock closer.

You Don't Need Wings to Fly by Laiquilasse (T, 11,326 w., 11 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Bullying, Angels, Suicidal Ideation, Christmas) – John, an angel, is sent from Heaven to help a desperate Sherlock Holmes by showing him what life would have been like if he had never existed.

Backup Copies by etothepii (M, 13,332 w., 3 Ch. || Dollhouse Crossover || Major Character Death) – When John dies, Sherlock doesn't know what to do. But Mycroft does.

Silent Night by khorazir (M, 15,060 w., 1 Ch. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Care Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dev. Rel., Reunion, PTSD John, Christmas) – It’s Christmas Eve 1944, and Sherlock Holmes has received his most precious gift already: after a long, dangerous deployment, Surgeon Captain John Watson of the Royal Navy has unexpectedly returned from the front. As if this weren’t enough, there’s a case. Both events make for a night full of promise, excitement, and the difficult task of getting reacquainted with the man Sherlock hasn’t seen in three years and feared he’d lost forever. Part 2 of Enigma

In Arduis Fidelis by Raliena (T, 18,628 w., 10 Ch. || GI Joe Crossover || Captivity, Surgery, BAMF John, John “Three Continents” Watson, POV John Watson, Prisoner of War, Cobra - Freeform, soldier John, John-centric, Doctor John Watson, John is a Very Good Doctor, Violence) – Once upon a time John was a Soldier and a Doctor. And he was known John or Doc or Doctor. But things change. And he *earned* his right to the name “Three Continents Watson”. Part 1 of the Three Continents Watson series

Serendipity by Calais_Reno (T, 18,222 w., 3 Ch. || Serendipity Fusion || Christmas, Romance, Coincidences, First Meetings, Misunderstandings, New York City, Fate and Destiny) – A bit of New York Christmas fluff, based on the 2001 movie.

Magnificent by esama (T, 19,477 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Crossover Pairing) – The birth of the Ministry of Magic and his relationship with the British Government.

Much Ado About Nothing or Get Over Here and Kiss Me Already! by MorganeUK (NR, 19,847 w., 13 Ch. || Much Ado About Nothing AU || Mutual Pining, Angst, Lestrolly) – AU in modern time where the Holmes' are a powerful noble family, Mycroft is the chief of defences and Sherlock is working for secret service. Lestrade is a high rank officer in the army. Ms Hudson is an old Lady that took care of her niece and nephew Molly and John since their youth. Part 1 of the Sherlock / Shakespeare series

Dead Letter Office by a_different_equation (M, 20,364 w., 15 Ch. || ‘Bartleby’ Fusion / Office Setting AU || Different First Meeting, Epistolary, John's Blog, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pre-Canon, John Watson is Sherlock's Boss, PTSD John, Military Backstory, Writer John, Drug Use, Texting) – John Watson comes home from the war, gets a new job and meets Sherlock Holmes through Mike Stamford. Same tale since 1891, except this time it’s 2008, John is Sherlock’s boss, and they work together at the Dead Letter Office in London. It's not a love story, until it finally is.

When John Met Sherlock by MorganeUK (T, 21,293 w., 10 Ch. || When Harry Met Sally AU || Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Faking It, Mutual Pining, Background Lestrolly, Fluff and Smut, Rom-Com) – At first they thought that friendship was impossible. Then meet again and become friends. After dinners, texts, cases and discussions they become more, best friends. Faking orgasm before falling on the floor together to get real one... Then going back to pushing each other away again... Before falling in love!But not necessarily in this order.

You're The One by Mazarin221b (E, 21,768 + w. || WiP || Underage Dirty Dancing Fusion || Period Typical Homophobia, Sexism, Angst, Fluff) – John Watson is seventeen years old and has his life planned out: medical school, a commission, and an opportunity to change the world. He just has to get through three weeks at The Copper Beeches - a resort owned by one of his father's patients - with his annoying sister and his perfect parents before he's off to Cambridge. But John has a secret he's trying desperately to keep, and, it seems, so is just about everyone around him, including the incredibly gorgeous and amazing dance teacher, Sherlock Holmes, and his partner Irene Adler. Too bad Jim Moriarty seems to know precisely what everyone is hiding.

Into the Multiverse by AnAnYaH (M, 21,958 w., 18 Ch. || Avengers / Sherlock / Dr. Strange Crossover || Multiverses, Everstrange, Parentlock / Teenage Rosie, Sad Sherlock, Angry Sherlock, Sherlock/John Fight, Magic, Strange John, First Kiss, Whipping, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Threats of Rape / Non-Con, Mental Anguish, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending) – Nothing lasts forever. I am beginning to think it's the same for you and me. In a world where we don't co-exist how long will it take to finally break us ? Or are we already broken in need of a fix ?A multi-chapter fic where Sherlock and John had to leave their lives to save the world from universal threats and pursue as Doctor Strange and Everett Ross.Will they ever reunite? Part 1 of the Everstrange series

Addicted to a Certain Lifestyle by KatsatheGraceling (M, 22,751 w., 1 Ch. || James Bond Crossover || Bondlock, BAMF John, Assassin John, Q is a Holmes, Clueless Sherlock, Omniscient Mycroft) – The one where John is a BAMF assassin. With an affinity for cuddly warm jumpers.

Impossible Improbable Truth by KaraRenee (M, 24,308 w., 9 Ch. || Labyrinth AU) – John and Sherlock take a case investigating the disappearance of a teenage girl and her toddler half brother. What they find is an impossible adventure that leads them on a journey of discovery of their sexuality.

The Art Of Seduction: A Study In Pulling by flawedamythyst (M, 25,279 w., 1 Ch. || Queer As Folk Inspired AU || John/OMC, Additional Tags to Be Added Upon Reading) – Sherlock ran a website called The Science Of Seduction, on which he gave advice on the best ways to get laid, wrote blog entries detailing the results of his various sexual 'experiments' and generally contributed to the stereotype of 'every gay man is a sex-mad playboy'. John avoided the thing like the plague. AU in which Sherlock treats sex like he does crime in canon. Inspired by Queer As Folk UK, but it very quickly went its own way. Part 1 of The Art Of Seduction

False Advertising by ravenscar (E, 27,722 w. || Office AU / Devil Wears Prada Inspired || Victor Trevor, Flashbacks, Hurt / Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Younger John/Older Sherlock, Marriage Proposal) – Sherlock is John’s boss and mentor at an advertising agency. Can they find love in the cut-throat workplace?

A Wizarding Barista's Field Guide to Seducing a Muggle by paradigmfinch (T, 29,344 w., 9 Ch || Harry Potter Coffee Shop AU || Wizard John, Muggle Sherlock, Bisexual John, Flirting, First Dates, Secret Identity) – To help pay for Healing tuition, John Watson gets a job at a coffee shop in Muggle London, where he soon sets his sights on a particularly gorgeous customer. John's seen plenty of Muggle films. How different can it really be to woo a Muggle?

Time Of My Life by fiveainley_ohmy (E, 29,719 w., 8 Ch. || Dirty Dancing Fusion || Bisexual John, Dancing, Gay/Demi Sherlock) – John Watson takes his alcoholic sister to a summer camp in attempt to rehabilitate her. He didn't expect to fall in love with the dance instructor.

Through Dangers Untold by hogwartswitch (E, 32,003 w., 13 Ch. || Labyrinth AU) – The Goblin King has fallen in love with John Watson and visits him in dreams. But the evil wizard who cursed the Goblin King cannot allow that to continue. Will John survive the labyrinth? Or will he become a lost goblin like all the rest?

Unsettled by AxeMeAboutAxinomancy (E, 33,879 w., 10 Ch. || HIs Dark Materials AU || Daemons, Dark Themes, Non-Con) – Sherlock's dæmon hadn't settled. Once John realised that, so much made sense. Though so much else didn't, because it practically wasn't possible. Part 1 of the The Utmost Edge of Hazard series

The Last Companion by standbygo (E, 34,101 w., 14 Ch. || Firefly Fusion || Prostitution, Case Fic, Falling in Love, Angst with Happy Ending, Slow Burn, BAMF John, Discussions of Non Con But Doesn’t Happen) – Thirty years after the Miranda Wars, there is peace, both on the Rim and the Core planets. There are a number of old social mores still in place, such as the Order of Companions, but there is a sense that even such respected practices are coming to an end… Sherlock is a Companion - the best Companion on Persephone. With a bit of detective work on the side, of course. Then he meets a man named John Watson, encounters a series of bizarre cases, and finds his world is getting turned upside down.

The Great Bakerstreet Bake Off by Elphen (M, 38,058 w., 8 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Caring Sherlock, Sweet John, Fluff, Baking, Accidental Touching, Pining, BJ’s, Banter and Bickering, Oblivious Characters) – John has decided to watch The Great British Bake Off this year and he is determined to do so. As Sherlock joins him, he is certain that that plan is ruined. He's in for a surprise when he's allowed to watch it but the real shock comes when Sherlock decides they ought to bake themselves. What's more, they should bake what they make in the Bake Off. John's not so sure it's a good idea but when his insides flutter at the thought, he finds it hard to complain.

Toe to Toe by standbygo (E, 44,971 w., 26 Ch. || White Nights Crossover || Ballet/Dance, Slow Burn, Spies/Secret Agents, Angst with Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Shower Sex) – Sherlock Holmes is an international ballet star. After a favour for his brother goes south, he finds himself trapped in a foreign country, with a man named John Watson who could be an enemy... or an ally.

Silence by halloa_what_is_this (T, 44,993 w., 13 Ch. || The Piano Fusion || Victorian Sherlock, Dub Con, Voyeurism, Permanent Mutilation, Johniarty, Mute John) – In 1850, John is a mute young man forced to marry to save his father from indebtedness. His sister as his interpreter and his piano to keep him company, he travels to London to live with his husband James Moriarty. Without John's consent, James sells the piano to his friend Sherlock Holmes, who only asks for lessons from John in return. The lessons turn into a power play between the two when Sherlock proposes a deal: John may earn his piano back one key at a time, certain conditions attached. Part 1 of the Aborted Wings series

Crime is of the Essence by K8BNimble (M, 45,569 w., 18 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Mystery, Slash) – When a man he hasn’t seen in almost ten years appears in his home with a man he thought was dead for twenty years, Harry Potter knew his evening had just gotten complicated. Written for Snarry Swap 2011. Named Hot Rec by "The Daily Snitch"1/18/2011. Snarry, past Harry/Sherlock. Long plotty mystery with light graphic slash sex.

Always 1895 by standbygo (E, 45,901 w., 19 Ch. || Oxford Time Travel AU || Time Travel, Friends to Lovers, Case Fic, Victorian, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, First Kiss/Time, First Meetings, Slow Burn, Angst With Happy Ending) – Time travelling historian John Watson goes to Victorian era England to study, and meets detective Sherlock Holmes. He finds himself torn between the work he was sent to do, the exciting life of solving crimes, and the extraordinary Holmes himself.

Curled (A Tangled AU) by crimsonwinter (G, 46,330 w., 13 Ch. || Tangled AU || Alternating POV) – Sherlock lives a limited life, high in a tower, and all he's wanted in eighteen years of isolation is to someday break free and see the floating lights. Somehow, a string of events leads him to John Watson, a surprisingly kind thief who steals his heart. Will they escape the selfish advances of Moriarty, Sherlock's paternal guardian, and will Sherlock find the meaning behind the silver lanterns?

The Boy Who Balanced on the Train Tracks by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 54,894 w., 5 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || John/Snape, Period Typical Homophobia, Character Death, Underage Sexual Attraction, Sexual Awakening, Time Turner, First Time, Poverty, Domestic Abuse, Death Eaters, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with Happy / Bittersweet Ending) – Every year, on the 2nd of May, John Watson dreams of long black hair.

Say You’ll Stay With Me by justacookieofacumberbatch (E, 63,349 w., 21 Ch. || Pretty Woman Fusion || Prostitution) – It was just supposed to be an ordinary business trip, but when John’s car stalls out on Hollywood Boulevard, he meets someone who just might change his life.

Whispers in Corners by esama (T, 64,402 w., 10 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Deathly Hallows, Crossover Pairing) – Everything started with a stumble - his new life in a new world as well as his surprisingly successful career as a medium.

Masters of Ink by Indybaggins (E, 67,382 w., 7 Ch. || Ink Master Tattoo TV Show AU || Angst, Banter, Body Modification, Cheating, Desire, Developing Relationship, Disability, Falling in Love, Feels, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Married John, Past Drug Addiction, Pining, Requited Love, Sex, Slow Burn, Smoking, Tattoo Artist John, Tattoo Artist Sherlock) – First-meeting-on-a-reality-show AU, Ink Master edition! There is expert tattooing, slightly less expert flirting, and two men falling hard. But John is married, and they can’t all win.

The Craving in Between by love_in_mind_palace (E, 69,349 w., 16 Ch. || Wedding Planner AU || Infidelity, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Sexting & Texting, Alternating POV, Mary is Not Nice) – Sherlock Holmes, The wedding Consultant. Picky about his projects and a nightmare to work with. Rejects ninety percent of the couples after just having a look at them and can predict how long a marriage will last. But when unassuming, plain, John Watson reluctantly limps his way in his office, with his more than enthusiastic fiancée, Mary Morstan, instead of dismissing the ill-assorted couple on the spot, he promptly decides that the project, and the groom.. are definitely worth working on.

The Loss of Flesh and Soul by deuxexmycroft (M, 69,712 w., 6/8 Ch. || WiP || Silence of the Lambs Crossover || Serial Killers, One-Sided Relationship) – Five years after John Watson puts the murderous Sherlock Holmes behind bars, a vicious copycat killer emerges. A reluctant John is pulled out of retirement to seek the expertise of the only man who can help, a man who has developed an unsettling obsession with John himself. Part 1 of The Loss of Flesh and Soul

The Vampires of London by consultingdetective (E, 72,660 w., 21 Ch. || Dracula AU || Pining Sherlock, Army Doctor John, Sharing a Bed, Porn With Feelings, Plot Twists) – Over one hundred years after the first battle, a series of murders have caught the attention of London's police force and Sherlock Holmes. While most of the city has forgotten the vampire that once walked its streets, the descendants of the Van Helsing, Harker, and Seward families have not.

Save Me or Let Me Drown by GubraithianFire (E, 72,986 w., 16 Ch. || Shameless AU || Dysfunctional Family, Alcoholism, Recreational Drug Use, Angst, Humour, Clubbing, Bipolar Disorder, Custody Battle, Mutual Pining, Family Fluff, Smut, Handcuffs, Anal Sex, Shower Sex, Rimming, Come Shot, Angst With Happy Ending) – How Sherlock escaped from his family, John sacrificed everything to his, and how, together, they built their own. Part 1 of the The Watsons series

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.

Sherlock, P.I. by Callie4180 (E, 83,264 w., 11 Ch. || Magnum P.I. Fusion || Past Relationships, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Canon-Typical Violence, Stalking, Creepy Moriarty) – For the Fall TV Sherlock fusion project. Sherlock, P.I. is an American television show that follows the exciting adventures of genius private investigator Sherlock Homes and his friends as they live their lives on the beautiful island of Oahu in Hawaii. Sherlock solves crimes as he wrestles with the ghosts and demons of his past.

Saudade by tunteeton (E, 96,952 w., 30 Ch. || After That Very Much AU || Case Fic, Non-Con Drug Use, Dubious Science, Canon Compliant up to THoB, John’s in Denial, Sub!Sherlock, Fake Non-Con Drug Use, Dom/Sub Relationship, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Kidnapping, Threatened Torture, Mary is Not Nice, Anal, Fluff, Non-Con Domming, Verbal Abuse, Slapping) – saudade (port.): a deep and melancholy longing for something or someone that is gone and not coming back. Homesickness, an emptiness in one’s soul, a love that remains after the loved one dies. John loses Sherlock, gains Sherlock and learns to never, ever, ever pray. Part 1 of the The Untranslatables series

Rosethorne by suitesamba (M, 98,888 w., 28 Ch. || Secret Garden AU || Injured Sherlock / John, Recovery, First Times, Minor Character Death, Disability, Past Domestic Abuse [Mary/OMC]) – John Watson, WWII army doctor, is injured in the line of duty and can no longer wield a scalpel. Sherlock Holmes, Britain’s best code-breaker, is side-lined by his own devastating injury. In a work inspired by Frances Hodgson Burnett’s “The Secret Garden,” the two men must find meaning and purpose in a world which seems to have taken away all they hold most dear. But of course, it really hasn’t.

Cake and Other Sins by Indybaggins (E, 100,670 w. || Great British Bakeoff AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Baking, Desire, Disability, Incest (Holmescest/Holmescest with John), Masturbation, Falling in Love, Oral, Outdoor Sex, Past Drug Use, Poisoning, Voyeurism) – Sherlock and John meet as competing bakers on The Great British Bake Off. There’s intense baking, lush recipes and enticing food. Mycroft, guilt, past sins in chocolate and gingerbread. And love. That too.

Fallen Through Time by susandwrites (E, 102,040+ w., 39/? Ch. || Outlander Fusion / Victorian AU || WIP || Time Travel, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex/Fingering, Riding Crops, Rough Sex, Floor Sex, Breath Play, Light BDSM, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Switching, Romance, Sex to Love) – Inspired by my love of Outlander, but not exactly an Outlander AU. Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, finds himself in Victorian London while investigating a murder. The first person he meets is Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and his world is irrevocably altered.

Reichenbach Falls - Déjà vu by VeeTheRee (M, 180,436+ w., 29/303 Ch. || WiP ||Gravity Falls / Multifandom AU || Alternate First Meeting, Gay Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Unilock, Summer Romance/Love, Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Villain Mary, First Kiss, Slow Burn, Doctor Who, Supernatural, Canadian John, French Canadian Lestrade, Insecure Sherlock, Mystery, Domestic Fluff, Developing Relationship Summer Love, Light Angst, BAMF! John, Case Fic) – Two Canadians, two Brits studying in Canada, and an upkeeper walk into a Mystery Shack…. and live there. Summer holidays are here, and the step-siblings, Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes, find themselves in a boring town called Reichenbach Falls, Oregon, USA. It isn’t as boring as it seems, however, once Sherlock stumbles upon a mystery journal, and the author is unknown. The journal contains ciphers, a strange colour wheel, and information about magical creatures that are said to be looming in the Northwestern forests. With mysteries to solve in hand, he and Irene set out to get to the roots of the town, and the abrupt disappearance of the author of the journal. But they’re not alone - John Watson, quite the handsome nephew of the Mystery Shack owner Greg Lestrade, is on their side to help out, plus mess with Sherlock’s feelings, in a good way. Shenanigans, romance, fun, danger, and deductions ensue. Oh, and there’s also occasional SuperWhoLock and two dorky Winchester brothers to spark up the action later on. Part 1 of the Reichenbach Falls series

To the Sticking Place by blueink3 (E, 121,973 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Musical Theatre AU || Showmance, Friends to Lovers, Bickering, UST / RST, Fluff, Virgin Sherlock, BAMF John, New York City / Broadway) – Renowned Shakespearean actor Sherlock Holmes has finally burned all of his bridges in the theatre industry save for his constant director, Greg Lestrade. John Watson has made a name for himself in the musical theatre circuit, but age and injury are working against him. Can they reinvent themselves for an all-male Macbeth without killing one another? Part 1 of the Screw Your Courage series

Bel Canto by bendingsignpost (T, 127,481 w., 16 Ch. || Phantom of the Opera AU || Secret Identity, Sherlock’s Violin, Operas, Aristocracy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Disguise, Inheritance, Genderqueer Character, Classical Music, Singing) – After years of waiting for wealthy patrons to faint, Dr John Watson discovers a far more interesting patient in the opera house basement.

Welcome to Silent Hill by Cleo2010 (M, 130,227 w., 37 Ch. || Silent Hill Fusion || POV First Person Sherlock, Unrequited Love, Psychological Horror, Violence / Gore, Monsters, Nudity, Drug Use, Harm to Children, Cults, Distressing Imagery, Torture, Death) – John is missing. When Sherlock receives a text summoning him to Silent Hill he's intent on reclaiming his friend but the town has other ideas. Our detective must battle through a world shaped by his own troubled psyche as he uncovers the town's secrets, attempts to find John and hunt down Jim Moriarty. Part 1 of the Welcome to Silent Hill series

Drift Compatible by J_Baillier (E, 130,380 w., 26 Ch. || Pacific Rim Fusion || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Family Drama, Accidental Telepathic Voyeurism, Martial Arts, Sci-Fi, Internalised Homophobia, Rubbish Siblings, Army Doctor John, Medical H/C, Bullying, Neurodiversity, PTSD, Drug Use, Depression, Mourning, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, UST/URT) – A washed out war hero struggling with his past. A prodigy who wants nothing to do with his family legacy. Both are looking for something—and someone—worth fighting for in a world where human civilisation is constantly under threat.

Out There by DiscordantWords (T, 131,695 w., 10 Ch. || X-Files Fusion || Slow Burn, UST, Case Fic, Government Conspiracy, Aliens, UFOs, Mutants, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Coma) – FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

Omens On Baker Street Series by WorseOmens (NR, 155,294+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Sherlock / Good Omens Crossover || Post S4 Sherlock, BAMF Aziraphale, Soft Crowley, Jealous Crowley, Fluff, Angst, General Idiocy, Misunderstandings, Crimes, Humour, Pining, Crimes, Magical Shenanigans, Unlikely Friendships, ?Slow Burn, True Forms, Ineffable Dads, South Downs) – Sherlock and John are no longer the only crime-solving disaster duo in London. After Sherlock unknowingly wrongs a demon, he finds himself with two mysterious rivals in the detective scene. For Crowley and Aziraphale, it's just a bit of fun, but they end up learning more about human nature than they bargained for.

Skeletons by flawedamythyst (T, 174,262 w. across 3 works || Nightmare Before Christmas Fusion || Implied Character Death) – Sherlock's refusal to talk about his past hides far more skeletons than John could ever have guessed at. Halloween-esque AU.

In the Deep, Where Dark Things Sleep by HardlyFair (M, 184,979 w., 26 Ch. || Scorpio Races AU || Graphic Violence, 1960′s, Slow Burn, Past Drug Use, Bed Sharing, Water Horses, Folklore, First Kiss/Time, Horror Elements, Vet!John, Protective John, Magical Realism, Horse Racing, Mutual Pining, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort) – The closer time crawls to November, the more water horses the Scorpio Sea spits out. The colder Thisby becomes. Sherlock Holmes is an islander - completely surrounded by the water. John Watson, he knows, comes from the mainland and lives for the Races. On the first of November, Sherlock will race. The man holding steady by his side is someone he never expects. A Scorpio Races AU (Maggie Stiefvater), but no knowledge of the book needed.

Rom-com adaptations... Series by MorganeUK (T, 211,229+ w across 8 works || Series WiP || Assorted Crossovers || Rom-Coms, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Friendship, Additional Tags Per Story) – Mostly Johnlock with Mystrade or Lestrolly. If you want a movie to be johnlocked, let me know :-) Each story is completely different from the other!

Enigma by khorazir (M, 289,667 w., 23 Ch. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Case Fic, Espionage, Period-Typical Homophobia / Sexism, Pining Sherlock, Inexperienced / VirginSherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence) – It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies' encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy.

Over/Under Series by khorazir (M, 319,561 w. across 5 works || Cabin Pressure Crossover || Post-S2 / Reichenbach, ReunionFriendship, Angst, Humour, Pining, Cycling, Mountains, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dev. Rel., Case Fic, First Kiss, Pining, Family Issues, Inexperienced Sherlock) – After his Fall, Sherlock travels the world to destroy what remains of James Moriarty's criminal empire. When things don't go according to plan and he finds himself in desperate need of a discreet means of travel, cue MJN Air ...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #crossovers and fusions #to read #Anonymous #long post #e-rated fics

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castielsangelsx · 5 years ago

Text

Dear Gods (Ivar x Reader)

A.N.: this was a request by @unabashedgentlemenpirate, hope its okay! Criticism is welcome

Summary: Multiple miscarriages later you’re finally pregnant with Ivar’s child. Its too good to be true and it is, as the birth of your son resembles Ivar almost too well.

Characters: Ivar x Reader

Warnings: miscarriages, birth and fluff

Word Count: 1782

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

The day of our third child's birth came quicker than I thought. Well, it had only been four months in, and the only thing that left my womb was blood and the unbearable pain of another child lost. Covered in my own blood and beads of sweat lining my chest and face the mix of tears only added to the mess.

Ivar had left the room as soon as the mess appeared. I knew he was going to head to the hall or speak to Ubbe about the unfortunate news, but I couldn't cry or sob anymore. I was numb, and the thralls helped clean me up before helping me into Ivar, and I's shared bed.

It had been a couple hours, I had laid in bed waiting for Ivar to come back. Being the third miscarriage, it didn't hurt that he'd left, if anything I expected it. His ego was hurt, but I reassured him it wasn't his fault he still carried the burden that it was the gods doing. Making his life even worse.

The sound of crutch, thump, crutch, thump on the timber signalled for Ivar's return. The noise was softer as the door opened. He was trying to be quiet, but I couldn't bear it, I turn my body to face him, and I couldn't help my sobs as his tired face comes into view from the candlelight.

"Oh, Ivar." His face softens as he limps towards me. He sits on the side of me, resting his crutch to the bed's edge before he leans himself over me. His hand reaches to my stomach, bare with no child. The other hand reaches to my cheek, and he just stares, studying my face. Rubbing his fingers under my eyes to wipe away the loose tears.

He clenches his jaw at this, but his concern does not falter. "Do not be sad, my love, the gods, will not discourage us." Placing my hand on his cheek, I smile in between tears. His hopeful attitudes lifted my sadness slightly. But the sorrow in my gut in the loss would not falter.

————

It had been a couple of months since our last lost child. To find that I was pregnant again was scary, to say the least. To think that I was carrying a child that may or may not reach the full term of its growth was horrifying. Once the child grew to 8 months, Ivar and I were beyond happy. We were incredibly close to the last term and in saying that Ivar had ordered, I was to rest and eat food that healers recommended for the prosperity of the unborn child.

That's what led to lying in bed all day, every day, with a hand secured on my full belly watching Ivar seated in front of parchment illustrated with maps. Having not been outside in a few days, I decided I needed to get some fresh air. Slowly rolling onto the side, I use my arms and the strength I have left to sit myself up onto the bed. Ivar's body shifts to turn to face me, he gets up fast crutching the table before reaching for the bed in an attempt to get support for his legs. He reaches for me, grasping at my hand. "Y/n, you must rest." I shake my head and sigh.

"Ivar, I know you're worried about our child and me, but I need some fresh air. They keep moving, and it's uncomfortable for me.” Ivar sighs and he sits there in silence watching me. His hand reaches to my belly before he rubs it gently.

“I will fetch Ubbe,” I shake my head and laugh. He heaves himself up off the bed and reaches for his crutch. Completely ignoring my distate for company he hobbles out our chambers and returns soon after I had fixed my hair and gown.

Ubbe walked in with a large smile on his face and all I could do was smile. “Sister-in-law,” he greets me,

“Ivar I can walk by myself. Ubbe you don’t need to, I will just take rounds around the market.” His smile softens before he offers his arm for me to take.

“Do not worry Ivar, she will be in good hands.” Ivar smiles in my direction and I notice his continuing glare as we leave into the streets.

------

"How is Torvi? I have not spoken to her in days," Ubbe nods and his smile only widens at the thought of Torvi. I couldn't stop my smile at his expression, yet the sharp pain in my abdomen stops me in my tracks. The market was filled with sellers, they paid no attention, but Ubbe did.

"Y/n you alright?" I hunch my back and grasp my belly. Pure anxiety and fear overwhelmed me, and I knew I needed to get back to Ivar, and I needed a healer. I did not want this day to end in another tragedy. I didn't want this to be the fourth baby.

"I need Ivar," he nods in response, and he motions for me to wrap my arm his neck to help me back. Luckily we hadn't gone too far, but it felt like an eternity as the anxiety grew as the pain returned. Rushing back into our shared room, Ubbe called for Ivar before running for a healer. I hadn't heard Ivar's steps as quickly as I heard them enter. His face looked tense, with jaw clenched and his hair ruffled and loose in his braids.

He came to the side, letting go of the crutch he sat on the floor. Completing disregarding the crutch. I lay in our bed, with a hand clutched on my unborn baby. The pain was different; it felt a burning sensation and cramp-like pains in my lower abdomen.

I was hoping the healers would come soon and identify the pain. To tell me my baby was not dying. "I told you to stay here," Ivar says. Frustration is evident in his voice as he grasps my hand tight. I said nothing, I just stared off in the distance wallowing in my fears.

The healer has rushed into the room. An old woman with a concerned expression on features she rushes to my side. Pressing into my stomach and feeling the hands she smiles in my direction. I study her face waiting for an answer. She does not falter at Ivar's distaste and lack of patience. This hadn't been the first she'd felt Ivar's anger during these circumstances.

"My Queen, your child is on their way." I couldn't stop the laugh that escapes. Complete joy and happiness overwhelm me, being so grateful that the pain I was feeling meant they were coming. Ivar grabs at my stomach and then grasps my face in his hands before he kisses me. Grabbing his face in response, we both laugh in joy.

"He's coming."

"You think its a boy?" The healer asks. No preserve for Ivar's usual threatening attitude I smile at her question.

"I think its a boy," I interject. Rubbing at my belly at Ivar, who smiles proudly at my response. The healer sits by my side, checking up on my progress before I feel another sharp and immense pain, I groan.

----

It had been under twelve hours before I pushed the last one I could muster. I had been exhausted. Ivar had been pushed out the room and Torvi had entered the room along with three other thralls to be there to clean and to support me. I was glad I was around women I trusted, but I needed Ivar.

I felt a significant relief leaves my body as I pushed. However, the cries of the baby did not come. I waited and attempted to look over my bloody and wet gown to see my child. The healer peered up at me and swallowed.

"What's going on?!" They looked to one another before looking back to me. "Please, someone say something! Give me my child!" Before I could cry out again, the sounds of crying swallow the room. The healer huffs in relief, but her face remains stoic. She looks to Torvi before wrapping it in a cloth.

"This is your boy, y/n." Passing me my child, I press him close to my chest. His cries are loud, and I couldn't help crying in joy at the sight of a bloodied wrinkly baby who continued to wail in my chest.

"Y/n, his legs." Looking up towards Torvi who looked over me and pulled apart the cloth to reveal the deformed legs of my boy. I didn' t know what to say, but I did not feel disappointment but sadness. Not knowing how Ivar would react. "I need Ivar," I say with tears falling down my face. I wrap him back up and rock him against my chest, in an attempt to calm the crying baby. The thralls push my sticky hair from my sweaty forehead. Torvi motions for them to exit the room and I am more than pleased for them to leave.

Once they leave the door is opened yet I see no one enter. Not until I hear the sound of dragging against the timber floor that I notice Ivar coming towards the bed, hauling himself across the floor. I hadn't seen him do this in some time, and it comforted me knowing he felt comfortable.

"Oh, Ivar. Our son is here." Completely disregarding his deformity I watch as Ivar heaves himself up onto the side of me, his face written in calm. I hadn't seen him like this before. Motioning to the sleeping baby in the bundle of cloths Ivar reaches his arms to wrap them around the baby before picking him up. "Ivar," I say, but he interrupts me.

"Shh." He undoes the cloth from its legs and I watch in concern to his reaction. I would hope that our miracle baby would be enough for Ivar. Ivar eyes the baby's deformity before clenching his jaw. Wrapping him back up, he looks towards me. Anxiety bubbled in my gut, and I swallowed harshly.

"Ragnar," is all he says and I furrow in confusion.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"We will name him Ragnar," I smile at his words, he says nothing but looks down to the small boy in his arms. "He will be fearless, he will be strong, and everyone will love him." I smile at his words. "Dear gods, may everyone fear his name." I shake my head. Oh Ivar. I watch as he kisses Ragnar's forehead and runs his thumb over his nose.

He was our miracle, by the Gods.

TAGLIST: @youbloodymadgenius

#Ivar Bjørnson #vikings ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #ivar smut #modern ivar #ivar fluff #vikings imagine #viking imagines #vikings x reader imagines #vikings ubbe

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morwensteelsheen · 4 years ago

Note

farawyn and borodred for the ship ask game thing?

thank you so much!! :)

okay i’ll start with borodred because for some unfathomable reason i actually got there first —

1. What made you ship it?

One of my favourite Types of ships is the Elder Statesmen Of War-type set-ups, where it’s less about people brought together through theatrical romantic gestures and more about the steadiness of people who are going through similar (immensely difficult) circumstances, who know that in their hearts they’re always going to put their duty to that cause first, but still seek out human comfort in other people who will understand what their priorities are and why.

I think there’s also a lot of similarities about the kind of helplessness they both face despite having this tremendous innate strength. Both of them still have to deal with family dynamics that are complex (made more complex by the war) and that can’t be fixed just by their own sheer will power; both of them die these utterly unnecessary deaths (not that death makes a ship but I think in this instance it actually points to the constant tragedy these guys face); and both of them are meant to be the principal figures of their families and people and are ultimately sidelined by the cruel mechanisations of war and the forward march of history or whatever wanky term there is for it — my apologies to ep thompson's ghost, dont haunt me bro.

Plus there’s obviously the interesting thread raised when Faramir starts bitching about Gondor and likens Gondor (and by very explicit extension, Boromir) to Rohan. That always made me go ‘Hmmmmmm, wonder what else Boromir liked about Rohan,’ lmao.

Anyways for me the ship is the equivalent of Star Wars’ Kanan and Hera or (my OTP to end all others) Luke and Wedge, just people getting by on love and duty and without big ol fancy romance.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

The fanon, I think, really makes it, as with so many other LOTR ships. battlefield manners, by themightypen is essentially the definitive take for me on them — these two guys who are just so fucking exhausted, man, but still overcome by defensive love for their families, even if their (foster-)siblings are naïve fools. That I just love, love, love. Plus I think they’re unique for their ability to pretty comfortable explore the relationship between Gondor & Rohan in advance of the Ring War without having to stray too far into AU, which I always appreciate.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not really, tbh, except in that I don’t think Boromir is necessarily as laddy as people like to portray him. I’m happy to play into it in, say, my modern AUs because I think that’s a fun and sweet niche for him, but I am a bit 🤪 about Boromir as this kind of reckless, drunken playboy (not least because I think that’s a much funnier niche for Faramir to fill, at least when he’s younger). Chapter Four of Swaddledog’s Hearts and Minds gets my preferred Boromir characterisation absolutely spot on, I think.

And now, sigh, the ultimate OTP, Farawyn —

1. What made you ship it?

For starters, I think I am obsessed with Éowyn in a way I’ve never quite been obsessed with any other fictional character. I came to reading LOTR at this moment in my life where I was intensely frustrated about everything — trapped inside permanently (helplessly!) because of the pandemic, just starting a new political organisation that I truly believed in but that was still making me feel like shit, facing down an untenable about of work, and, fundamentally, really, really hating being a woman and what that means. And along comes Éowyn, who is bitter, who is cold, who is ANGRY, and who doesn’t perform joy or softness or gentleness just because people expect her to. She’s this seminal Woman Of War in so many ways, I think the kind of person a lot of us wish we could be. She’s got her emotional taps cut off at the source, she holds her head high and faces down unimaginable personal and political terrors, and at the end of it all still has this abiding love for her family that, I would argue, is almost unparalleled by anyone else in the book.

After all that, she gets this incredible moment of emotional catharsis (or what we expect to be emotional catharsis): “no living man am I!” She undertakes THE greatest martial act of the Ring War, and in that moment there’s this unbelievably sophisticated dialogue happening about gender (“Éowyn it was, and Dernhelm also”), and leadership (Merry finding his courage not because of the immediate scenario of the Witch-king, but because he’s spurred into it by Éowyn’s presence), and love and care.

And then we learn that no, actually, this glorious act of violence wasn’t the emotional catharsis we thought it would be. She gets to ride to war, she gets to throw herself headlong at death, and in the end that hopeless act of individualism isn’t really what does it for her. She’s still left desolate and despairing, and actually all of her problems haven’t gone away.

And then we need to rewind a bit, because along comes Faramir, who is gentle, and is kind, and does seem to believe in joy, but not because people expect it — actually it's made abundantly clear nobody expects it — but because it’s something quite innate to how he figures the world. And he’s a huge fucking nerd too. I have a lot of thoughts on Faramir’s flaws and why I find them endearing, which I won’t put here, but almost immediately you get this sense of a guy who’s quite melodramatic, good humoured, and very much not made to live in a time of war.

But he’s also clear-headed about war and what it requires (tactically, if not strategically, though that’s a post for another day), but who is kind of cynical and weary of it in his own unique way. And it’s a unique cynicism given his personal circumstances because he’s the second son of The great family of Gondor, he’s apparently — though with some big ol’ question marks hanging about the extent — very able to command some of the elite units in the realm, and what’s more than that, he’s got all these fantastical powers (the light mind reading to start, to say nothing of this apparently magical ability to command animals too. bruh.). By all accounts he should be this brazen hot mess, but he’s not. He’s desperate to claw his way out of this war-torn cage of expectation his people have for how a man should comport himself in time of war. Is it a little naïve? Sure. A little fussy? Absolutely. But does it point to that same desperation that Éowyn has? Yes! But also the practicality, like, neither of them are really enjoying the circumstances they live under, but good fucking god are they both able to Make It Work.

So finally we get to the Houses of Healing and what is the finest and most aggressively romantic writing of LOTR. Seriously, it’s so fucking much. It’s breathtaking. It reminds me quite viscerally of this fabulous quote from Les Mis:

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

At some point I will devote more time to talking about the two reasons line, and the blissful Queen of Gondor speech, but I think to me that big, important line is: “And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.”

It’s not about Éowyn changing herself entirely (though, I think, it really does bear mentioning that she does change, and that’s every bit as important to understanding that scene as it is romantic), it’s about Éowyn coming to terms with how to live with herself as herself, and how to live in communion with someone else. She can’t just cut people out anymore, and she can’t just treat them as objects of infatuation as she did with Aragorn, she has to reckon with people as they are. And that’s sort of the moment where I knew I was about to plunge fully off the deep end with these two and never know a moments’ peace again, lmao.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Someone on here once called Farawyn a love letter to women and, by god, yes, exactly that. I love the capacity for emotional intimacy, that is beautiful in ways I can’t express. To me, though, my favourite thing is the promise of life they speak of. Not as in oh they shag loads and have babies (though not opposed to that, obviously), but in the sense that unlike Aragorn and Arwen, who are always going to be buried under/burdened with the crushing weight of history and tradition, Éowyn and Faramir are going out yonder those hills and they’re going to do some real cottagecore farming shit. Obviously with all the trappings of rank and nobility and whatnot, but they, unique to anybody else in the books, get to sow this new idea of what life should be. They are, outside of Aragorn, the single most powerful people in Gondor. Éowyn’s got the ear of a king, a steward (which is essentially a prime-ministerial deal here), and functionally her own prince (if the hobbits are to be believed when they refer to it as essentially hers). I suspect that, in life, there were remarkably few arguments she wasn’t winning, and that Ithilien probably trended towards the jumped up noble hippie camp Tolkien so desperately wanted Oxford to be (or, in other words — Cambridge, lol).

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Yeah, man, everybody stop treating Faramir like he’s a big fucking crybaby and Éowyn like she’s some kind of shrieking 2010-era tumblr girl.

One of the single most important lines defining Faramir’s character is when Denethor roasts his ass for always trying to appear noble and lordly, if you ignore every other piece of textual evidence we have about him, what part of that line makes you think Faramir’s some simpering daisy? And why would you want to link tremendous emotional intelligence and care with being too limp-wristed to function, lol??? Like I struggle loads with writing Faramir, because I have never once in my life tried to be noble or self-restrained, so find it hard to get into that mindset, but better, I think, to imagine him too closed off than to do this wilting flower song and dance lmao.

And stop making Éowyn out to be this over-emotional angst machine. She’s got problems, yes, and she’s sure as shit got a lot of angst, but at almost every point in the book where we’re overtly dealing with her emotions, she’s sublimating them into something else. One of the most serious times we see her cry is when she’s fighting with Aragorn about riding out, and after that moment she literally tries to kill herself. Those tears aren’t standard, man, that’s a real watershed (lol) moment for her. You have to read around what the text is saying to get a better feel why everybody’s constantly calling her cold and distant.

#god this is probably obnoxiously long because i can't do cuts on my phone #but refuse to open the tumblr website on my laptop lmao #faramir #éowyn #boromir #théodred #farawyn #borodred #god sorry for these fucking tags man im just trying to make my blog slightly more organised #i just have a lot of thoughts #i should really write more metas it would probably help my writing out quite a bit #asks #meta

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otomegamesandme · 4 years ago

Text

A Lily in A Sea of Red

Fandom: Piofiore: Fated Memories

Pairing: Leo/Lili

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild references to violence

A/N: This is more a character study then anything, and I'm still sad there isn't more fanfic for them. I might write more, but for now here's this. Also on AO3 if you'd prefer to read it there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32233639

News spread quickly among the Falzones. It was necessary. If the members didn’t keep on top of things, it could be the difference between lost turf wars, lost members, lost Falzone bosses. Efficiency had gone up since the last boss’s passing, leaving Dante the newest leader in tragedy’s wake.

This time the whispers were of a young woman. Soft and saintly, an aura only someone of the Church could have. It was unknown why she was staying at the mansion, other than Dante’s claim Yang’s gang was after her. It was for this reason Leo was placed to guard her. The idea made him nervous.

He was a skilled shot, had to be so he didn’t get killed. Hand to hand combat was a little harder, since he was smaller than most the men he’d find himself against. Protecting someone inside the mansion, though, was something he convinced himself he could do.

The first time he met her she’d been filled with nerves, and so had he. She’d held her hands together in a formation like prayer, and he noted it was to stop her hands from shaking. He knew her name, but when he heard her say it, the sound was peace in spring.

“Liliana Adornato.”

After the first meeting he’d mouthed her name in bed, wondering if he’d ever capture such a feeling again.

The two fell into a routine, it was easy to. Being around her was a break from the chaos he was used to. Having meals together, snacks together, conversations together, were so different than what he was used to. Although this was his family, and he owed his life to the Falzones, he couldn’t help the loneliness that crept up on the worst of days. He was aware of his failings, and although he wished nothing more than to prove his worth, he still felt like a child stumbling over each step.

With Liliana, he felt weightless. Perhaps it was under false pretenses, he was a killer after all, and the sunshine he showed was as artificial as the moon reflecting the sun, it brought her comfort. At some point, during those first weeks, he’d nearly forgotten who he was as well.

The first time there’d been an attack on Lilliana, it’d been outside as she had visited the church again for the first time. The Lao-Shu had been waiting and watching. It was something that didn’t feel natural to them. What they wanted, they took, and what they wanted was always beneficial to them. Leo couldn’t pinpoint where Lilliana fit into it all.

He’d taken her hand and ran, because his duty wasn’t to fight it was to protect. Her hand trembled in his, but there was a gleam in her eyes that spoke of her determination to survive. He hadn’t had time to process the way that struck him, as the two zipped through side streets.

Afterwards, when they’d made it to the Falzone mansion, Liliana had asked if it would be alright to have tea together. Her nerves were shook and he was a master at lightening the mood. The two spoke for hours, until her eyes were heavy lidded. Before they’d parted ways, she placed a hand on his shoulder, smile lazy in her exhaustion.

“You can call me Lili.”

He didn’t know how a simple sentence could make him so tongue tied, “Are you certain?”

“Yes. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Despite the violence which had broken her naivety, she still considered him a friend. If Leo guessed, she still considered everyone here as someone she’d grown to care about in some way. The surprise of it all made a smile bloom across his face, “We are.”

It didn’t take long for Leo to wish for them to grow into something more.

The will of the family was put before anything. And Dante Falzone represented this will. Leo was only meant to be her guard, and it was obvious to Leo Lili meant something to him. If Dante wished it, who was Leo to go against it. He was given the gift of a family and in return he offered his loyalty. And besides, Lilli only saw him as a good friend. And as a boy.

He was sunshine beaming through rainclouds, offering her joy on the worst of days. When things in the city got worse, when a new drug started circulating through town, when people died in front of her eyes, when she was caught between the feud of three mafia families, he was there. He offered conversation and distractions and laughs. On the days it was too hard for her to leave bed, he offered comfort.

His hands would comb through her hair as she cried out the shock in silence. The reactions became less severe, and she had mastered the art of masking her horror long ago. But in these moments alone, she broke. Except Leo couldn’t bare to leave her alone.

As the weather became cooler and autumn entered it’s late stages, Leo had gotten permission to take her to shop for warm clothes. Everything she had was so thin, and while she insisted she hadn’t minded, she also hadn’t left the manor in a while. Dante had wanted things to calm, and there’d been a lull in violence for the moment.

After a lot of insistence, Leo got permission, and the two headed into town. Lilli’s eyes always filled with melancholy whenever she went out now. The city had changed, from a place of vibrancy to one of lifelessness.

“Things will get better soon, I promise.”

Lili startled at his words, looking as though she’d just woken from a daydream, “I know they will.”

She’d been praying for weeks now, for this very thing. Sometimes when he’d gone to her room to remind her of dinner, he’d hear her whispers. He never could interrupt her prayers, so he’d listen to the muffled words, and offer a prayer with her. For her. It was the only thing he felt he could do.

Now, he offered his arm, feeling oddly bold in doing so, “Come on, let’s make the most of the day.”

When they returned, they were greeted by news of Nicola’s betrayal.

Broken morale followed in the week after, then a quiet anger underneath. The oppressive atmosphere that once existed outside had leaked into the Falzone household, electrifying the air. Any reprieve they had was encased in suspicion of everyone else. If their leader’s right-hand man was a traitor, then it was possible anyone else could be, too.

“Maybe it’s foolish of me, but I think there’s a reason he did it,” Lili stared at her tea, the opaque liquid reflecting her face back to her. Her hands were clasped in her lap, nails biting skin. Leo wanted to take them in his and rub away the nail marks left behind.

He glanced at the table instead, mirroring her actions, “I want to believe so, too. Everyone knows they’ve been best friends ever since they were children. It’s hard to believe he would do this without a reason.”

“I can’t help but feel this is my fault,” the line struck Leo. He rushed to protest, but she was faster, “All of the events happening here have been the result of my existence in some way. Maybe I bring tragedy.”

“Lili…” He felt her pain like his own. For all the years he’d been part of the Falzone family, he hadn’t been one to stand out. He wasn’t as strong, as quick, as coordinated as those around him. Sometimes he wondered if he’d been better, would old members still be alive. The sentiment Lili shared was one he resonated with.

She gave a choked laugh, “I’m sorry, Leo. I know you try so hard to cheer me up. I just can’t help but worry—”

Tears pricked her eyes, and Leo went to her without thought. His hands cupped her cheeks, and her eyes widened. Carefully, he wiped them away, cradling her face in his hands. She looked so small, when he saw her like this.

“You are a gift not a tragedy,” his voice was one he could hardly recognize. Underneath, he felt all the things he’d wished for, encompassed in a single phrase, “This is not your fault. The three families have been warring for years, it was bound to come to this eventually.”

Lili’s hands came to rest over his. A part of him expected her to pull them away, but instead her fingers traced along his skin, as if not comprehending. Her eyes were still wide, but her tears had stopped, and in that moment it was the only thing that mattered.

“We’ll be happy again, Lili.”

“We will be.”

Neither of them had strength in those words, but there was determination in their blood. A spark was back in Lili’s eyes and Leo smiled in relief. Lightly, softly, he ghosted a kiss across her forehead before he pulled away. He was aware he shouldn’t have, but the soft blush on Lili’s cheeks kept bay any regret.

His job was to protect her, and he’d long decided it included her heart and spirit as well.

#piofiore: fated memories #piofiore #piofiore fanfic #piofiore leo #piofiore leo x lili #LISTEN #I know there wasn't a proper kiss but it didn't feel right in this context so #If I write another fanfic it'll solely be so I can do the kiss scene #also guess I write fanfic now ajsjs #these are so funny

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years ago

Note

mr mendes just released a new song & i was wondering if you could write something inspired by the line: "i wonder what it's like to be loved by you" 😌✨

Ericaaa I loved this prompt! 💕 Of course I had to throw in some Pining because it’s so good ... hope you enjoy! (here it is on AO3)

to be loved by you

It’s a secret to absolutely no-one that Amy Santiago is the kind of woman that likes to excel in any skillset. Unapologetic in her badass-ery, she can (and has) chase a perp through the boroughs of Brooklyn in boots that have a higher heel than three of her male colleagues put together. Her finely tuned memory - the same one that has led Trivia Newton John to seven straight victories - helped solve a series of long-dead case files, and her problem solving skills are the reason that one of the city’s biggest kingpins is currently behind bars.

With this in mind, one could consider it safe to say that Amy regretting her natural ability to ace any situation would be up there with hell freezing over, or for a flock of pigs to soar across the sky.

But tonight, here in Shaw’s bar as she watches Jake have what seems to be a lovely date with Sophia; Amy just might be, if only maybe a little, slightly regretting her highly graded observation skills (yes, the same ones that pushed her into the highest percentile when graduating from the academy - which she very rarely brags about, and she really should - it was mentioned in the commissioners speech and everything).

To be fair, it wasn’t all bad. She could, for example; hear the jukebox in the corner, playing Come on Eileen for the fifth time in a row - unknowingly settling into a duet with squelching sneakers as a bunch of drunken frat guys danced, all of them too far gone to notice any repetition. Plus, she could pick up on the subtle click of the acrylic nails on the woman at a neighbouring table, listening to them tap against a series of her friends’ photographs, rotating between descriptions of priddy and gawgeous.

Mixed with the scent of spilled beer and day-old peanuts, it was exactly the combination that to others may appear seedy, but to Amy and the squad, just seemed … familiar. Shaw’s was their watering hole, the basement bar each could disappear into and drink to forget their days, and despite the five empty glasses on her table and the half-full one in her hand, Amy was finding it incredibly difficult to stop noticing just how sweet Jake was with his girlfriend.

Even more impossible was to stop imagining what it would be like if she were the one standing near the dart board, with Jake’s arm resting comfortably over her shoulders.

It had all started earlier today, when she had glanced over at her partner just in time to pick up on the tiny little smile that grew on his face when he noticed a text from Sophia.

(Okay, it’s possible that it had actually started back at The Maple Drip Inn, with that look he’d given her after maybe, yes, a little. It had definitely led to a series of Thoughts after Teddy’s departure, of which she’d only given herself just that night to think about.)

(Except ‘that night’ then turned into that week, and okay fine then it had turned into ‘just that month'; and now here she is, several weeks later; completely unable of getting Jake Peralta off of her mind, and it’s becoming very likely that this is more than just a little crush.)

It had been so endearing to see, that tiny glimpse of joy and enchantment as he’d read Sophia’s message - just fleeting enough for Amy to wonder if anybody had ever reacted to a message from her with such glee. (Teddy, she remembers, preferred not to text; and would instead express his affections by saving her the last bottle of his favourite pilsner, or brewing a new concoction ‘inspired by her’ … sweet, but somehow didn’t hold the same sentiment.)

So she’d kept her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her as she listened to Jake pick up the phone and order a bunch of flowers to be delivered to Sophia’s office - using his debit card, and not a combination of the five questionably balanced credit cards under his name - which in itself is huge. Pretended not to notice the multiple kiss emojis in his reply, or the soft tune that he hummed for a few minutes after, focusing intensely on the case file in front of her as she described a recent interrogation in finite detail. Kept up the facade of all that stuff with us is in the past as he recounted a romantic weekend to their squad in the break room - laughing along in all the right places, doing her very best to keep the wistfulness out of her eyes.

And all the while, Amy’s mind had kept contemplating if she would ever get to know what it would be like to date someone like Jake: to have somebody who would take all the black and whites of her life and show her the beautiful greys in-between.

So when he’d shown up at Shaw’s this evening, with Sophia’s hand carefully wrapped around his own and a grin that announced his contentment to anyone who cared to look; Amy had felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. Her painted smile had just lasted until the couple retreated to the corner for a crazily competitive game of darts, and Amy had decided tonight would be a great opportunity to drown her sorrows in a few glasses of whiskey, doing her absolute best not to notice all the little things she will never have.

Like the way Jake would punctuate each congratulatory high five with a kiss, even when it meant that his girlfriend had beaten him at a game. The gentle way he steered them away from a rambunctious crowd, keeping an eye on the raised voices as his unaware girlfriend played her shot and came so close to hitting the bullseye. Or the way Sophia’s hand would rest on Jake’s chest as he held her in his arms (just the way that Amy wishes she could do), and the way she would laugh so happily as he commented on the drunk guys dancing near them.

It was all very simple, but undeniably sweet, and Amy doesn’t know how she ever doubted that Jake would be anything but.

“Your covert skills need work, Santiago.”

The chair beside Amy scrapes angrily against the worn floorboards and she turns, startled by the interruption, quietly praying that her face isn’t quite as red as it suddenly feels. Terry, far more interested in taking the last sip of his scotch than commenting on her appearance, settles in to his new location next to her, and his glass hits the soaking cardboard coaster with a slap.

“Wha-huh? Covert skills? You really must be drunk, Sarge. We’re not even on a stakeout right now. Unless you’re talking about us staking out the contents of that fridge behind the bar haha!”

(She’s rambling - she knows she’s rambling; but cannot stop the desperate need to pretend that she hadn’t just been completely busted for spending her entire evening staring at a life she may never know.)

“Ugh. Okay fine.” Her mouth stretches out into a cringe, eyes flickering to the colleagues Terry had just walked away from. “How noticeable are we talking here?”

“Noticeable enough that Charles has spent the last 40 minutes lamenting on ‘the beautiful tragedy of unrequited love’”. Dropping his air quotes, Terry rolls his eyes, one eyebrow lowering as he returns to his drink. “He lost me when he started quoting poetry. Terry loves Shakespeare, but he could do with a little less soliloquies - and a little more spirits - tonight.”

“Oh! You know what, there was just a Shakespeare play in Polonsky that starred - ” Terry overlaps her last words with his own heavy voice, and Amy’s stops in it’s tracks.

“Dianne Wiest. Terry knows. That was his segue, Amy.”

She nods, sensing the need to dig up. “Should have known. Charles loves his Wiest feasts.” Terry grunts his assent, pressing his lips together as he savours another verse-less sip, and Amy seizes the opportunity to cast another furtive glance at the happy couple.

“Seriously, though. Just because Peralta hasn’t noticed, doesn’t mean the rest of us haven’t.”

Amy brushes her hair to the side, swirling the liquid in her glass with her free hand. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t been very subtle tonight, or whatever.” Her gaze returns to Jake, drawn to him like a magnet, and her heart squeezes once more.

To his credit, Terry gives her a moment; waiting for a silence to settle over their table before leaning forward in his chair, ignoring the sticky residue of the tabletop as he rests his arms on either side of his glass.

“Out with it, Santiago.”

She shakes her head, swallowing hard to push down the burgeoning lump in her throat. “They look really happy together, don’t they? He looks … happy.”

Terry shrugs, glancing in the direction of Amy’s eye line. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“He does! All shiny and cheerful and just .. happy.”

“I don’t know. Terry remembers a time when you and Teddy looked just as content.” His look is pointed, and followed by the unsubtle raise of his eyebrows. Amy nods, draining the last of her drink. Somehow, she has a feeling that Sophia’s underwear isn’t lined with mesh like Teddy’s had been (and even if it was, it would be some kind of inexplicably sexy mesh, for sure).

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem, sarge.”

“You know that works both ways, don’t you?”

Nodding again, Amy wipes her thumb along the smudged lipstick print on her glass, choosing to remain silent. Terry didn’t get it - none of them got it, really. She’d had her chance, the very first time the words romantic styles were uttered, and she’d let it slip away. And now, she has to live with the consequences.

Clearing his throat, Terry continues. “I mean … she is a defence attorney, you know.”

“But see, even that isn’t something that I can fault. Not fairly, anyway.” Clocking the look of disbelief on Terry’s face, Amy shrugs defensively, waving her hand vaguely in Sophia’s direction. “I know we all like to joke and call them evil, but really … all they’re doing is making us prove that our findings are beyond reasonable doubt. If anything, it’s people like her that push us to do better - to work harder to make sure that we’re definitely charging the right person. And as annoying as that can be, it’s definitely not a reason to hate her.”

“Kinda sounds like you do, though.”

She shakes her head, feeling the sense of defeat sink into her bones. “I really don’t. She’s incredibly smart, and funny and beautiful … she honestly looks like she should be in a commercial for shampoo or something. She’s perfect for Jake, and I’m just …”

“You’re just … ?”

Shrugging, Amy slots her thumbnail into the edge of the coaster underneath her glass. It, like her heart, had seen better days, and it was time for her to cut her losses. “I’m just … going home.”

“What? No. Stay! Our squad kicked butt this week, Amy. We all deserve a drink.”

Painting another smile onto her face (she really is getting good at them), Amy pushes her seat away from the table, allowing herself one more glimpse at Jake’s smile before shaking her head at Terry. “Sorry sarge, I just can’t seem to celebrate tonight.”

Heading towards the exit without a second thought, Amy doesn’t see Jake pull away from Sophia, taking a half step in the direction of the door as he watches her leave. She doesn’t notice him pull out his phone, start to type a message before hesitating, pocketing it without hitting send. The night moves on as Amy walks away, and the streets are deafeningly silent as soon as the bar door closes behind her.

The sky seems to feel just as morose as Amy this evening, tiny droplets dropping onto her grey work blazer as she waits for a cab; too lost in her thoughts to take in the frivolity of a parting crowd. As the rain increases and the splotches on her blazer turn into tiny Rorschach Tests she decides to give herself one more night - one last night of wishing for things that will never be.

In the backseat on her ride home Amy twists her hands together, linking her fingers and imagining not for the first time that one hand was Jake’s (she would imagine similar .. later). She thinks of what it could be like to have his warm presence near hers .. to have his hand resting on her leg, not out of possession but just to be near. Watching him get out of the car first, only to turn and offer a helping hand for her exit, every time without fail.

She pictures what it would be like to feel the brick exterior of her apartment against her back as Jake presses his soft lips against hers, kissing the life out of her, making her see stars before pulling her into the apartment for so much more.

He wouldn’t always be the perfect partner - and lord knows, neither would she - but Amy knows that through it all he would remain her best friend, because even through all of this yo-yo pattern of denial and admittance, thats who Jake has been for her. After all these years, he’s become the only one she wants to talk to, at any given moment of the day, who knows her coffee order better than his own and remembers her Abuela’s birthday, even when she hasn’t mentioned it in weeks.

The scent of rain lingers in her apartment as Amy readies herself for bed, casting her pantsuit aside with drunken abandonment and giving her face a half-hearted wash before stumbling towards her bed. She closes her eyes, the thoughts of what could have been still so loud in her quiet apartment, hugging the pillow beside her tightly while her mind begins to wander.

As she finally drifts off to sleep that night, Amy tries not to remember the smile that Jake gave her as they danced so long ago at the community hall - that special kind of smile, that made her think that maybe it was solely for her - and tells herself once. and. for. all. that sometimes, life just doesn’t work out the way you’d hope.

* *

It’s a rush of cool air that alerts Amy to a brand new morning, the drop in temperature squashed as quickly as it arrives by the wrapping of a warm arm around her middle. She smiles into the pillow as it completes its protective loop, letting her body get pulled closer to the human hot water bottle in the middle of her bed, and if there was a better way to wake up on a cold day, Amy is yet to see it.

She lets out a sigh of comfort as the bridge of a prominent nose digs into her shoulder blade, feeling the warmth of his breath through her old academy shirt, nestling closer until her legs are well and truly tangled amongst his. It’s late, later than she would normally allow herself to sleep, but the two of them were far too invested in basking in the afterglow of a rainy Saturday filled with sex and movies to consider leaving the bedroom anytime soon.

Jake’s voice is rough, the remnants of a deep sleep obvious in his throat. “Today’s Sunday, right?”

Amy nods, wriggling herself just free enough to turn within her boyfriend’s embrace. His hair is sticking out on all ends - unaided, she is certain, by her hands the night before - and she runs the tip of her thumb along his right cheekbone. Though his eyes are still closed, he leans into her touch, and she grins. “Definitely Sunday. A rainy Sunday, but part of the weekend all the same.”

He nods, the short and prickly fibres of his morning stubble scratching her palm. “Good. More time for time machine building.”

“… we’re building a time machine?”

“Yeah, one that lets us skip past all the boring work stuff, and leaves us with all the time in the world for more of this. Kinda like that movie Click, but a lot less ‘trying to change the past’ stuff, and a lot more sex.”

She chuckles, and his left foot rubs along the side of her calf under the blanket. “You’re crazy, Peralta.” (Although, she will admit - the ‘a lot more sex’ part did sound kinda great.)

His eyelids flutter open, gaze growing soft as a smile stretches across his face. “You’re beautiful, Santiago.”

Amy feels her cheeks begin to heat up, resisting the urge to cool herself down by tucking her hair away, completely unable to move as long as Jake continues to look at her like that. There’s a pimple growing underneath the surface of her chin that is going to rival Mount Vesuvius, and her morning breath could probably wilt the flower pots living happily on her kitchen’s windowsill. But here, in bed with her boyfriend of almost two years, she feels more beautiful than all of her best days put together.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this today, but I love you, Jake.”

Leaning forwards, Jake’s soft lips press against Amy’s, and he winks as he pulls away. “I mean, we’ve both been awake for a sum total of three minutes, so yeah, you’re pretty late with the love you’s today, babe.”

Her free hand flies out from under the cover, delivering an indignant smack to Jake’s chest, and he grabs it back before she can pull away, linking their fingers together and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I love you too, Ames. Even if you don’t want to build a time machine with me, I still love you.”

She laughs - a giggle that starts in her belly and bursts through her lungs, something that she’s been doing a lot more of these days - and pulls Jake in for a longer kiss, morning breath be damned.

One day, in eight or so years time, they’ll have a son - a miniature version of Jake that, much like his father, runs to the beat of his own drum; and answers to the name Mac. Amy will fall pregnant again, and when they explain to their son that he’s going to be a big brother, his response is so perfectly him that it makes Amy’s eyes tear up with laughter.

For they are, by Mac’s decree, now officially a Ninja Turtle family. He is Raphael (or ‘Rafel’), Jake Michelangelo due to his love of nunchaku, and Amy nabs Leonardo purely out of homage to one of her favourite artists. The mini-Peralta still growing in her womb is, by default, Donatello (or Donatella, depending), and even though there was a time when Amy truly felt like she could never be this lucky, she will love their little family with all of her heart.

But for now, she has Jake; and together they have warm bedsheets and no plans for a future that isn’t together - no matter what obstacles may be thrown their way.

And Amy realises, as Jake begins to trace a series of kisses along her side of her neck; truly, being loved by him is better than she could have ever imagined.

#it's all about the yearning #pining!Amy #fic prompts #has the ninja turtle family thing been done? I can't remember #b99 fanfic #peraltiago fanfiction #b99fic

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