#wish chapter 5 and 6 from this fic were canon

[tsukidrama]

Please Be... a coward.

{ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ } | [ → ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ] [ → ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ]

ᴀɴɴɪᴇ ʟᴇᴏɴʜᴀʀᴅᴛ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ / ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴀɴᴛ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢѕ: graphic depictions of (canon-typical) violence, angst, hurt/comfort, guilt, lying, and even more guilt.

Summary: After the Battle of Trost the barracks are empty. Right when you don't think you can handle being alone, you receive a visitor unexpectedly. Annie finds herself in an unusual state of mind.

cottagecanon | ao3 | wattpad | art | ♫

Word Count: 8.6k

Author’s Note: here's some more blatant miscommunication re: annie not actually being able to talk about what's bothering her! i've also had some inquiry about the backstory for Annie's reader in my little fic world -- i intend to explore that in a different aspect each chapter as well

The battle of Trost was many of the cadets’ first encounters with Titans face to face, but it was not yours. You’d seen them before, five years ago when the Wall fell. You remembered the way their footsteps shook the very ground you stood on. The hot, coppery scent of blood mixed with something inhuman and terrifying clogs all of your senses.

Whenever Wall Maria fell, you were just a child. But you will never forget what you saw on that day. And as much as it changed you, this was worse. The amount of death, and gore. It was unthinkable.

Fear takes over quickly, and you’re torn between freezing in horror and running as fast as your legs will take you. If you hadn’t been on the back of a horse, you’d be dead. Sometimes you wish that you had died, too, with everything that was lost. Everything you had seen.

Seeing the carnage from Titans never grew any less horrifying, no matter what the scenario was or how

But fighting them? That was so much worse. It was worse because this time you saw everything. Limbs being torn from people you knew and were friends with. Your comrades in arms, the people you used to sleep next to and eat with, crushed and bitten and ripped and stepped on, all right in front of your eyes.

Twenty minutes after the gates have broken, you watched your first squad get picked off one by one. You and one other survivor barely made it out, by luck alone. Until you’re able to meet up with somebody you know, you run along rooftops to try and save gas.

After the tides turn, you try hard not to get separated from your friends. You’re careful to swing high around even the small Titans as you zip down an alleyway to clear the path for Eren and the massive boulder that rests on his shoulder.

You make your first kill right then, as you zoom up behind a small Titan, maybe 5 or 6 meters in height. You’re so caught up in the adrenaline and pride in yourself that you don’t realize what’s happened until you hear the screaming from behind you.

It all happens so fast. You hook your maneuvering gear to the lightning rod of a nearby building, just to get away. In the time it takes for you to get to your vantage point and turn around, it’s too late for you to help.

A titan crawling on its hands and knees catches one of your squadmates by the wires of their gear and yanks him to the floor. The only other survivor from your first group runs to help, but the Titan is faster. It grabs him around the chest and squeezes, and then you lose him too.

The rest of you freeze, overcome with shock. Some people cry, you included. It seems like ages have passed with everyone staring in horror as the Titan goes back and forth. When it turns its attention away from its prey, it lunges for a rooftop. The cadet who is perched on top screams and frantically looks for another place to run.

It’s a miracle that the Survey Corps arrive when they do. They zip through the alleyway at the speed of sound, quietly and full of determination. Barely does it take their effort to slay what had been an untouchable monster seconds before.

The casualties are insurmountable. You end the day alone, again. Blood that’s grown cold soaks your clothes and chills you down to the bone, so much more visceral than anything you’ve ever known.

Humanity won, but was it really a victory?

207 dead or missing, and 897 injured. It was nothing compared to when Wall Maria fell but you hadn’t been on the front lines back then. It was so different to drag piles of dead bodies (or pieces of them) into town squares to be burned. It was so different to have every turn you take be filled with more horror and death.

The first time you saw the blood, you witnessed the horror. But you were saved that night, and the sacrifice on your behalf gave you meaning. This time? It was just death around every corner.

The first time that night falls after the battle ends, you go back to the military barracks you were assigned to when you first arrived in Trost. There are only a couple of others in the showers, so you take your time getting clean. You stand under the water for quite a long time trying to wash the blood off. You even stay once the water runs clear.

You take your time in the showers, intending to get as much time to yourself as you can. So whenever you return to an empty room it surprises you – there were four beds in a dorm room, with a bunk against each wall.

It shouldn’t be empty. Between how late you got back and how long you took showering, everyone else should be back. At least somebody.

It hits you along with a wave of nausea. One of them was on your first squad. You can’t recall seeing the other two all day. You realize that you’re the only one out of them who is still alive.

That morning four girls had woken up in that room. You didn’t know them well, but you’re sick over the fact that you didn’t know it would be the last time you’d seen them.

You vomit in the trash can.

Once everything is out and you’re gagging on an empty stomach, you sob to yourself as you stare at the empty beds around you. There were still belongings strewn about the room, discarded pajamas, and half-unpacked travel bags. Are you supposed to get rid of this stuff? Will someone else eventually clear it out?

Whether it’s because you’re lost to your crying or due to well-oiled hinges, you don’t notice when the door creaks open. Only when you hear a gentle knock do you realize that you’re no longer alone.

After quickly wiping away your tears, you turn to look at the entryway to see Annie, looking smaller than usual. The hood of her jacket is pulled up to cover her face, and her face is shadowed. Her eyes are hollow and red, obviously swollen.

“You’re here,” she sniffles, “I mean, alive.”

You nod. “You too, huh?”

She looks down at her feet. “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.”

“You’re crying,” she points out, like she doesn’t know what to do with that information. Like she hasn’t obviously been crying, too.

It’s a struggle to shove your feelings down. You try to wipe your eyes with the backs of your hands.

“I’m okay,” you try to insist, although you’re painfully aware of how shaky your voice sounds, “I just feel sick. I threw up.”

“Oh…” she replies, hesitating in the doorway. “I can leave you alone then. Sorry.”

Annie reaches for the doorknob again, and you can’t help but protest. You hadn’t meant for her to leave, just to make her think you were holding yourself together better than you are. The last thing you needed now was to look weak in front of one of the only people who you want to have a high opinion of you.

“Wait no! Come back,” you plead. You worry that it’ll come off as desperate, but the emptiness of the room “You could stay…”

“Fine, okay,” she says, but pulls a face as she distastefully eyes the trash can you had barfed in moments ago, “Just brush your teeth first, yeah?”

Embarrassment floods through you, and your cheeks darken. “Oh my god. Yeah, my toothbrush is in here.”

As you dig through the bag with shaking hands, you soon find the small pouch where you keep the brush and some toothpaste, which you squeeze directly in your mouth while Annie has her back turned. She glances down the hallway to make sure no one sees her sneaking in before she closes the door.

You quickly brush your teeth over the trash can, then spit the rest of it out and tie the bag closed. Then you kick it far, far away on the other side of the room where you can’t see it.

When you come back to sit on the bed, you find that Annie is already there. She sits folded up on her knees with her hands shoved deep into her pockets.

“I’m not crying,” she sniffles, “this is just because I got smoke in my eyes.”

It’s one of the more obvious lies she’s told, but you don’t argue with her.

“Oh,” you nod, “yeah, me too. It’s the smoke.”

Now that she’s closer, you can see more details of her face. Her eyes aren’t just red and swollen; her entire face is puffy. She’s viscerally upset in a way that you can’t ever remember seeing her before. Lip trembling, hands shaking, and tears pouring from her eyes. She’s barely holding back tears.

You place your hand on her shoulder, and Annie flinches.

She avoids looking at you but begins to cry harder. You aren’t sure whether you’re upsetting her more or if she’s just having a hard time processing. You rub your thumb along her hoodie for a minute.

“I’m sorry,” is all that she says, “I’m sorry.”

Annie suddenly begins to sob, and she’s crying so intensely that she isn’t breathing. Her face goes from red to purple to nearly blue. It’s then that you take her by the shoulders and start to get genuinely concerned.

“Oh my god, you need to breathe,” you urge, wrapping one arm around her shoulder from behind and putting the other on top of her chest.

You force her to sit up straight, and finally, she gasps. Your hand rises as her lungs refill. She breathes raggedly and for once, lets you hold her for a minute. She buries her head into your shoulder and soaks the fabric of your shirt. All you do is hold her for as long as she lets you.

Finally, she pulls away.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, again.

She’s nearly rocking back and forth with an expression unreadable aside from the panic in her eyes. She covers her head with her hands.

“Annie, I’m worried about you. You’re not afraid of anything.”

“I’m not afraid, I’m just disgusted,” she spits, eyes wild. “People that… People we knew died today and I — I’m such a hypocrite!” (she scoffs) “So many people died and I’m here letting you comfort me.”

Your heart sinks, and you hope to think that you know what she’s feeling – there was no reason that any of you survived beyond luck, and who knows what she witnessed when you weren’t around. All you know is that you’d seen more than your fill of horror for a lifetime.

“Hey, no. Don’t do that. You were so good out there today. One of the best of us all!” you frantically try to recount everything, though your memory eludes you at the moment. “You killed like, a bunch of Titans out there. I only killed one and I almost messed it up. But you were on fire. You saved people’s lives – we all saw you save Connie.”

Annie’s fingers clench in her hair, and she yanks it hard. “Yeah… but you don’t understand,” she groans, gritting her teeth and crying bitterly. “Maybe I am getting too attached…”

She swats your hand away when you try to touch her shoulder this time.

You can’t think of anything to say, so you just frown. “Annie…”

She sighs as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders.

For a moment, you remain quiet. After a beat, you push past her protests and plant your hand on her shoulder, squeezing.

“Isn’t it better to try and fight than to just give up?”

Tears well up in her eyes. “No,” Annie shakes her head, “My biggest dream is to give up.”

She chokes on a sob and takes a moment to catch her breath before she continues shakily.

“I don’t care about any of this anymore. I’m so tired…” and with that, something inside of her cracks. A barrier falls and tears flood down her cheeks. “I want to go home.”

There’s a faraway look on her face that looks completely defeated. As soon as she lets herself slump into your arms, she all but gives up. The next thing you know you’re the only thing standing between her and full-on breakdown.

A panic stirs in your gut, that goes beyond just simply unsettling. Seeing her cry was jarring enough, but Annie was quickly devolving to a place you’re not familiar with. Her breathing quickens and she looks absolutely terrified, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

You think back to the only other time she’d cried in front of you, and try to remember why she had been so upset or what you’d done to comfort her. There’s a vague memory of not knowing back then, either. One minute she’d been telling you about her childhood and her training, and the next she was crying.

You certainly remember being pushed away when you tried to embrace her. Was that the first night you’d held her hand? And now, even as she loses it in front of you, you find yourself blushing like a schoolgirl. You place your hand over hers and gently interlock your fingers from above.

You’re about to pull her into a hug when Annie gives you a strange look.

“You never told me how your parents died,” she says, out of nowhere.

You’re taken aback. It takes you a minute to process.

And then another minute to realize that she’s expecting an answer from you.

“Oh, um. They didn’t–” you stutter, awkwardly, “they’re, uh, not dead.”

She sits up straight, and you lose your hold on her. “You told me that your family died when Wall Maria fell.”

“They did. My parents didn’t raise me. Come back, please,” you frown.

Surprisingly, Annie looks a little miffed. She throws your arm back to you. “You’ve never once talked about them, or gone to visit them.”

You shrug, though you feel self-conscious.

“So?” A blush stains your cheeks and ears. “I don’t talk to them.”

Annie stares at you.

“I’ve known you for three years, and this whole time you’ve had parents and a home?” she questions, in a way that feels very judgemental.

“No, I haven’t!” you’re a little taken aback, so you sit up as well. “Why do you care so much about this anyway? Stop interrogating me.”

Annie scoffs. “Trust me, this is not an interrogation. I just can’t believe that I didn’t know that about you,” she scrunches up her nose in thought, “or maybe I never asked... I can’t believe you don’t talk to your parents. What did they do – are they assholes or something?”

“I mean, yeah,” you reply, getting defensive, “Do you think I’m just a horrible daughter?”

She shrugs. “People can be complicated.”

If that’s supposed to be comforting, it’s not. You sigh.

“There’s a reason I joined the military in the first place, and why I still don’t talk to them now. I’m not a bad person.”

Tears shine in Annie’s eyes, and your concern mounts.

She shakes her head. “You’re not… I’m sorry.”

You’re still upset but she was obviously at a moment of emotional overwhelm. It wouldn’t help to push her, but this was a matter of pride.

“I wasn’t lying, you know,” you explain, “everybody who mattered to me died when the Wall fell five years ago. My parents just happen to be the only ones not there. There was a reason for that, too.”

When you look over, you see that Annie has shifted to face you. A moment of silence passes, and then she tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s not quite shy, more on the guilty side.

“Can you tell me what happened that night?” she asks. Her voice is surprisingly soft, and there’s something sensitive, maybe even vulnerable behind the mask she wears.

You freeze up. Annie notices your discomfort and takes your hands in hers. She scoots closer to you and wipes her tears away.

“I never asked. I knew you lost people but I couldn’t hear it,” she admits, and you’re shocked to see how close she is to falling apart as she stumbles over her words; “I’m–m so fucked up beyond belief for only asking now, after today.” Her shoulders sag, and it “but for some reason, you’re the only p-person here that’s keeping it together.”

The only person keeping it together? That’s a fat crock of shit. You eye the corner where the trash can you’d yakked in was hidden away. You were resoundingly NOT holding anything together.

Your chin wobbles, and your voice cracks. “Holy shit, that does not feel true. I’m freaking out. I watched people have their limbs ripped off, get bitten in half. I almost died about ten times. Why am I here while so many others are dead?”

You let yourself slump down on the bed, defeated. By the time you look over again at Annie, it’s like she’s long gone.

It was too much. She let down her barriers for just a moment only to short-circuit. Any vulnerability she’d let come forth is withdrawn in an instant. Her face falls, and twists in anguish before wiping completely clear. Emotionless. She screws her eyes shut.

Tears stream down her cheeks but she doesn’t say a word. She begins to shake, and she looks like she’s seen a ghost. Eventually, when she opens her eyes, there’s a faraway look on her face.

Annie’s lower lip trembles. Her hands are shaking and she looks like she’s about to snap. “I don’t know,” she sobs, “Why… do I have to–?”

Her face drains of blood and for a moment, you’re actually afraid for her. She doesn’t look present, just overtaken by hysteria. Biting down on your lip, hard, it’s all you can do to stop yourself from bursting into tears.

Yet Annie beats you to it. She slaps a hand over her mouth and completely loses her composure once again.

“You’re shitting me… you asshole!” she cries, “N-no– I don’t want to. I won’t…”

Before, you could get through to her, but now she's unreachable. The emotions come on so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. You try to sit up and hug her, but she flattens her hand on your chest to keep you down.

“Oh, Annie,” you soothe from afar, placing your hand on top of hers. She just swats you away, then crumples in on herself with her face buried in her hands.

“No… Oh, no. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to. I don’t want to…”

At this point, you gain recognition that she’s not talking directly to you, just channeling her pain in a very weird, confusing way. It’s a little scary, but you want her to feel like she can come to you. You just keep your distance until she cries herself out.

“It’s not fair,” she sniffles, “This is so much more than I ever signed up for. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Then your heart breaks for her, just as it aches for everyone who fought or died today. You feel as if she voiced the same emotions you’re feeling. You wish you could run away, live together somewhere undisturbed by life and all these troubles.

What a far-fetched dream that seemed like… You’d be lucky to make it until the end of the year before you were eaten in the line of duty.

“You’ll be in the interior soon enough,” you remind her, “you won’t have to fight Titans again.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not even what I mean. It’s so complicated, Y/N.”

It’s obvious that there’s a lot on her mind, and the way she always bottles it up is clearly taking a toll on her. She’s heavy, burdened.

In an attempt to give her space to talk, you ask: “What do you m–”

“–I don’t want to talk about it.”

Well, so much for that.

Annie is visibly agitated. She’s bone-tired enough to never move from that spot on your bed, but her eyes flit back and forth, round and round and her brain spins. Tears well up in her eyes.

You want to touch her again.

“Hey…” you whisper, as you lean over to her, and then slowly position yourself next to her so you can pull her into your arms again.

Maybe you’re young, but you love her. Even if you don’t really know how to tell her, or even if you thought she wanted you to hear it. Something so strong as an “I love you” would be sure to send her running for the hills.

Instead, you play with her hair. You give her a place to come whenever she’s scared or vulnerable and you don’t judge her. It’s the least you can do when she trusts you like this.

“I’ll do whatever I have to to stay alive,” she says, “I’m not a good person.”

“I think that’s okay, Annie,” you soothe, pulling her back into you. “A lot of us would. It’s human to want to live and it doesn’t make you bad.”

She doesn’t fight your embrace, but she doesn’t exactly return it. Instead of relying on her permission to let you in, you wind your arms around her tightly, tucking her head on your shoulder.

“You’re not any worse than the rest of us survivors,” you tell her, “after the battle, we’re all lucky to be here right now.”

You half expect her to cry again, but she seems hollow. She doesn’t argue. The air is heavy with tension, but Annie responds with some sniffles and a sigh.

It looks like she wants to say something that just won’t come out or something that she can’t find words for. Her voice dies at the back of her throat as she tries and fails to get out words.

Annie lets out a broken sob. “I miss my dad,” she cries, “I want to go home.”

For a moment she seems like a lost little kid. You rub her back soothingly, and finally, after a deep shuddering exhale, something inside of her melts away and she lets you really comfort her. She nuzzles into your neck needily.

After that, there really isn’t that much to say. It’s worse to think about everything that has happened in the past 24 hours, so you try to think of something to say, anything to say.

But you’re so overcome with dread that words fail you.

Annie shudders. Her cheek nuzzles into you and the fabric of your shirt grows tight, like she’s pulling onto it. For a little while, you just let her get the emotional release out of her system.

But after a certain point, she seems lost to it. The sobbing borders on inconsolable so you wrap your arms around her tightly. It traps her in place, and when she struggles against you you fear that you’ve made a horrible mistake. But just as quickly and violently, she stops moving altogether.

You’re about to straight-up check for a pulse when you feel her let out a deep exhale. Her limbs tighten around you, and though it’s more of a desperate struggle to cling to you than a true embrace you still feel your heartbeat quickening.

One of her hands stays rooted in your shirt, and the other presses against the skin of the back of your neck. Her fingers gently trace on the back and sides of your neck while her palm remains firmly against your skin. Her breathing slows to normalcy again.

Closeness between you and Annie wasn’t something new by this point, but the days where you’d be able to be with her were quickly coming to an end. And while no breakup was ever discussed, the imminent graduation and the knowledge Annie would leave for the Military Police kept hanging over your heads.

No matter where you chose, you wouldn’t see her anymore. No more dorm room rendezvous or sneaking out past curfew into the woods. For now, all you could really think about was how grateful you were that if nothing else, Annie would be safe in the interior.

You push away thoughts of what it would be like when you’re scattered across the walls. It makes you sick to think that with all the death and loss, you still have to say goodbye to the one person who matters most of all. Knowing she was alive would have to be enough.

For now you cling to her, and think about how soft her hair is. Will you be able to remember in a few months the way she rests her head on your shoulder? The way her breath puffs onto the skin of your collarbone, or with the way you’re holding her you can feel her ribs expanding as she breathes.

And then for just a brief snippet of time, everything is perfect. The horrors of the world aren’t gone, but you’re not facing them alone. You have Annie.

But as always, after a certain point, she decides that she’s done. Whether it’s affection or compassion that she grows weary of, you don’t know. But you can’t say you’re surprised when she worms her way out of your embrace, and the moment ends.

She doesn’t go far, just to lean against the wall about a foot away. She doesn’t even shake your embrace, keeping your arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“I know your parents are assholes,” she says, “so tell me about the rest of your family.”

“Uh, okay, so,” you stutter out nervously, “I lived with my grandparents on my mom’s side. They were farmers. They were my mom’s parents. Um, I’m the oldest. I have two younger brothers, Samuel and Joseph.”

You stop talking. For a second, you can’t breathe.

“I had two younger brothers,” you correct.

Annie shakes her head, pressing her eyes shut.

A long moment passes.

“How long did you live with them?” she asks.

“About four years? I used to spend time there before that, though. My grandparent’s house was way out in the country, and I loved the animals. They taught me how to take care of all of them, and how to cook.”

There’s a look on her face, but Annie doesn’t say anything.

“They had a dog, too. A big cattle-herding one that loved to run around and play. Most of the dogs in the cities were strays, the kind you couldn't really pet.”

“I’m more of a cat person,” she admits, though you manage to draw a wistful smile out of her as briefly, she thinks of fuzzy tails and squishy paws.

A few moments of silence pass, then Annie asks: “Your parents lived in the interior?”

You nod. “Yeah, Wall Sina. It was one of the gate cities – the one on the right, Stohess. My father was a legacy banker. Like his father before him and probably my brothers down the line, if they were here.

She nods as she listens, but doesn’t react with any recognition.

So you continue on. “It’s full of rich snobs, organized crime, and those crazy Wallists. There’s a whole sect of them growing in the city, they even built themselves a little pantheon a few years ago. There are services like, every day of the week.”

Annie’s nose wrinkles.

You move on quickly and pray she doesn’t ask more about your parents or the Church specifically, lest you have to go into detail that you’re not ready to give. You’re quick to change the subject.

“I’m not a city girl anyway, and I loved the countryside in Wall Maria. I wish I could take you there. I bet my grandparents would have really liked you.”

Annie blushes and shakes her head, looking down. “That’s not true. I’m not… the kind of person you can take home. They wouldn’t like me.”

“That’s not true…” you counter, quick to comfort her. “Don’t get upset, okay? There’s no one alive that I’d want to know about you.”

“So I guess that means meeting your parents is out, then?”

You laugh out loud. “My parents don’t even like ME …” and though your chest tightens, you try to keep on laughing, “but my father would be happy to never see me again.”

“Why would you say that?” Annie asks. For the first time in the conversation, she looks upset. And not in an emotional way, but one tinted with anger.

Scoffing in disbelief, you pull your knees up to your chest. “He was happier when I told him I was joining the military than he was to see me alive after the Wall fell. I think he blamed me for my brothers’ deaths.”

Although she’s still pulling an odd grimace, she nods and lifts her eyes to meet yours.

“I’m sorry you don’t have anyone,” she mutters, “It’s hard when you can’t go home for the holidays, or when you’re the only person not getting letters from family.”

There’s a pause, which grows even more awkward the longer you don’t talk. Annie continues to glare, and you don’t understand why she’s so

You rub the back of your neck, embarrassed. “I’ve gotten a few letters from my mom…”

“I’ve never seen you write back,” she narrows her eyes.

“I don’t reply to her,” you confess, “There’s nothing to say and she only talks about herself.”

“Oh…” Annie says. She avoids eye contact, looking off to the side and down at the floor.

You can tell something is still bothering her.

You know that you’re leaving her in the dark, but after the day you’ve had, all you want is to think of better things. There are reasons you haven’t told her every detail of your past and you certainly weren’t ready to spill them when you were in the middle of a completely different crisis.

“Annie,” you begin, “You have to understand–”

She shakes her head. “You’re just lucky that someone writes to you. That’s all,” she says, “I would write letters to my dad if I could.”

You look away, embarrassed. From the very little you knew about him, you didn’t realize Annie was particularly close to her dad. In fact, one of the things that initially brought you together was reveling in what little freedom you had in the dorms compared to what your home lives had been like.

There must be something about their relationship you don’t understand for her to react like this. Maybe he was the only living relative she had left, though in your case, the dislike for your parents goes so deep that it’s tainted your ability to be objective on the matter.

You made your choice on the matter. It’s okay if she didn’t agree with it, but the idea that she didn’t respect the idea gets to you.

“What’s stopping you?” you ask, begrudgingly.

Annie huffs, and for a moment, you deeply regret having said anything.

“It’s not important. I mean, it’s complicated,” she snaps, “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

A nasty look is all it takes for you to look away and drop the subject. “Just because my father doesn’t send me a letter asking me about my feelings every month doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want me to come back home.”

You pipe back up, to defend your very honor. “That is not what I said at all.”

“Well, what else could you mean? Just because your father doesn’t write to you doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want you to come home. He still loves you.”

It’s hard to suppress the laugh that bubbles up with that retort. You weren’t trying to imply anything about her dad either way, even if you did think he was a little bit of a jerk. Okay, maybe a big jerk.

But your dad, on the other hand, is a grade-A, narcissistic piece of shit who never thought about anybody but himself. He’s a complete asshole and it’s a damn pleasure not to know him anymore. Even if you did get the impression that he cared (he didn’t), you still wouldn’t want anything to do with him. The military was less than ideal, but it was an escape before you came of age.

It’s obvious that the subject brings up an insecurity that Annie wasn’t ready to talk about, so you try to move on. You lean back with your head against the wall, exhaling.

“Can we just talk about something else entirely please?” you beg. “I’ll even tell you about the night Wall Maria fell if we can just stop talking about our fucking parents.”

Annie laughs through her nose, so subtly you could’ve missed it. She doesn’t even smile, but it’s enough to dissipate the tension surrounding the two of you. The atmosphere grows heavy again as silence settles.

When it’s quiet, you’re aware of how empty the room is. You remember all the horror from today, the sound of screaming and the slick weight of blood soaking your clothing.

Annie puts her head on your shoulder again and wraps herself around your upper arm.

“Tell me,” she instructs, so that the silence doesn’t linger.

You nod. “They lived on a farm out in the middle of nowhere, in Maria territory. We didn’t stand a chance when the wall fell.”

Her head hangs. “I’m sorry,” is all she says, and then she retreats back within herself. You lose the ability to make sense of her expression.

She swallows her feelings. They’re gone as quickly as they appeared. A sniffle, then she’s back to looking at you.

“It was the middle of the night. I could hear the footsteps and I knew something was wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on what but I went and got my littlest brother, Joseph, because he was just four. My grandpa carried us downstairs and tried to put us on a horse.

“I ran away at first, I wanted to find my other brother… Samuel. He was really good at hide-and-seek and sometimes, he’d hide when he was scared. I knew all of his favorite spots – I could have found him if I had looked. But my grandpa wouldn’t let me.”

Annie hangs on to your every word, looking horribly forlorn with a faraway look in her eye

“I was so mad. He picked me up and threw me onto the horse. He just slapped it and told me to hold onto my brother. I thought he was going to follow us. We had two horses.

“The Titan came right after he sent the horse away. It was fat, with tiny legs and these wide crazy eyes. And with teeth like a nightmare. Huge teeth that were too big for its face. I’ll never forget it. And it’s still out there… I was so afraid I was going to see it during the siege earlier. If I ever see it… I’ll – I’ll kill it, or I’ll die trying.”

Annie still doesn’t say anything. Her gaze moves between your face and the floor and at one point, you catch her wiping away a tear. Whenever you pause, she tightens her hug on your arm.

“I never saw exactly what went down before I saw it,” you admit, “But I don’t think my Grandpa would’ve left anyone behind. The only thing that makes sense, is that the Titan killed my grandma and my brother, and then my Grandpa sacrificed himself for the two of us he could save.

“That’s all. We reached Wall Rose by morning. It was so chaotic that it took a few days for us to be identified, but within a few days we were back in Stohess with my parents. I was back in private school, and dance lessons, like nothing had ever happened.”

Back to the Church, like nothing happened.

“I’m so sorry. ” Annie mutters. Her face is void of emotion, but not because she isn’t feeling anything. She pushes it all down like you’ve seen her do a million times over. “Your life was ruined when your family died.”

You don’t outright agree, but you certainly mourn the life that was stolen from you. “I never thought I’d end up here, that’s for sure.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, and gets that same hollow look in her eye from earlier. “I really am so, so sorry.”

It scares you, how it seems like she’s begging. You’ve never seen sorrow like this from her before, or sincerity. She apologizes like she should have been there to protect you, and to protect your family.

“It’s okay,” you say, nervous. It feels bizarre that you're still comforting her when it’s your tragic backstory.

“Is this about what I said about my dad?” you ask, “Because you were right – our fathers aren’t the same. I know he wants you to come home just as much as you want to go back.”

“No, it’s not that,” she says, and wipes her nose on her sleeve. “I just, I thought you said both of your brothers died. You said your grandfather saved two of you.”

Huge blue eyes look up at you with anticipation. “What about your littlest brother?” she asks.

Your heart stops. “He died, too,” the words catch in your throat, but you push through it the same way you have for years. “He got sick. It was just a fever, and then he was dead. It was just me after that.”

A heavy silence fills the air, and the emptiness surrounds you.

Annie stares away for a long time. The wheels in her brain are still turning, but she doesn’t find any words. There’s nothing to say.

Her eyes are red, and more tears fall from her eyelashes. After a moment, she

“Do you want to get under the blankets?” she asks, numbly.

It takes a moment to gather your bearings, but then you nod.

The bed creaks as Annie climbs off. While you pull the blankets up and crawl beneath them, Annie blows out the flame in the lantern. Darkness falls in the room, and for a moment you see nothing.

Once your eyes adjust, you can see the dim outlines of furniture from the small amount of light that comes in the crack underneath the door. You’re aware that Annie climbs into bed with you from the creak of the mattress and the slight jostling of the springs adjusting to the weight of a second person.

This time, Annie initiates the comfort. She nuzzles her chin into your shoulder and puts her hand gently on top of your thigh. Yet you notice that despite her efforts, she’s still sniveling.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers.

Although you don’t verbally respond, you lean in to kiss her on the cheek. You’d been aiming for her forehead but the sentiment is still there. Gently you sweep her hair back from her face as you caress along her neck and jawline.

The silence is interrupted by Annie taking a deep breath in, then releasing it. Her wavering breath gives more insight into her state of mind than her words.

Your heart aches.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Y/N,” she tells you, and there’s a sweet lilt to her voice that she rarely shows. Maybe it’s because you can’t see her and that gives her more courage, or maybe she’s more shaken up than you first realized. You certainly can’t imagine her saying those words and yet here you are hearing them.

It was unlike her. So unlike her, and it concerns you. It may have been a hard day, but it’s still a sharp contrast to the straight-faced girl you’re used to, that insecurity floods your mind.

You laugh so that you don’t start crying again. “I’m not sure that I am.”

All the blood drains from your face. You don’t know where it comes from. And as soon as you say it, you realize how inappropriate of a response that it is.

Annie is not amused.

“Don’t say that…” she warns. All of the warmth and docility that had just steeped in her voice suddenly leaves just as quickly as it came.

But again the events of today (that will soon become your everyday reality) flash before your eyes. You see yourself in your mind’s eye stomped on, bitten in half, swallowed whole. It IS just a matter of time, right?

“Even if I survive the next battle and the one after that, there’s always going to be something else. While you’re safe in the interior, I’ll probably be Titan vomit by this time next year.”

Cold hands wrap around your wrists tightly. “Seriously, don’t say that…” Annie protests softly, and her fingernails dig into your forearms, “I don’t want you to die. Not you.”

There’s a tender moment between the two of you where she draws your hands to rest on top of her chest. She breathes in shakily, and the last thing you want to do is make her cry again.

Your fingers trace the jutting bone in the center of her breastbone, etching care with your touch. “I didn’t mean it.”

A sniffle. There’s a shuffle of movement, and one of her hands leaves yours presumably to wipe her nose on her sleeve. You still can’t see anything.

“I’m sorry,” she says for the hundred millionth time that night.

The panic washes over you again – damn it. This wasn’t the reaction you had been going for at all. What had started as self-pity on your end had clearly upset her in a very real way.

“No, I am,” and when she doesn’t reply, you commit: “I’ll never say it again. I’m sorry, Annie.”

Her hand comes back to touch you, this time lacing her fingers in yours, and you notice that she’s trembling with fear.

“ I’m sorry–” she re-emphasizes.

“–no, stop! You didn’t do anything,” you interrupt. You squeeze her hand, and shift your position so that your other hand is on her shoulder. “So stop apologizing, okay?”

Annie swallows hard. She breathes in through her nose, and when she inhales her breath wavers still from her tears.

“Okay,” she finally says. A few seconds later she squeezes your fingers in return.

“It’s because of what I said?” you ask with your heart in your throat.

Another deep breath. “Yes,” she says, as she groans and throws her head off to the side indecisively, “No.”

“Oh, Annie…” you mutter sadly, and lift a hand to her.

She literally knocks your hand away when you try to stroke her face, denying the gesture and telling you to fuck off at the same time. You can still only make out the vague outline of her form and you have no clue how she saw you coming in the dark.

“No, don’t comfort me,” she pleads, “I don’t deserve it.” She sounds so broken compared to how angry her words and actions felt.

When she had been the one to come to you, that stings a little bit. It feels personal, like you’d done something. Had you blown it for no good reason, by doing something you didn’t even understand?

“You don’t deserve my comfort?” you ask, frowning.

The movement of her shaking her head jostles the pillow. “Or your kindness,” she chokes out, “or your love.”

When you don’t have a response, Annie sighs. Her fingers twitch against yours, and her other hand cups your cheek.

“It’s me that’s the issue. It always has been,” she assures you, with a heartbreaking resigned huff of laughter, “You’re the one who deserves better.”

The dynamic flips again with Annie putting herself back down. What you want to do is burst into tears. You want to shake her shoulders until she sees sense, how could she not see that she was everything you wanted? How was it not obvious that you would turn the world for her if you could?

But it wouldn’t help. If you tried to explain your feelings to her, or even to interrupt her destructive train of thought it would just make her go quiet. She’d shut off completely to retreat into herself. Worst case scenario, she keeps on spiraling and walks out, leaving you alone.

You aren’t sure if you can handle being alone right now. You aren’t sure if she can handle being alone right now when something is so clearly wrong.

She won’t listen, and you don’t know what you would say anyway. You bury your head into the crook of her neck and throw your arms around her shoulders. You don’t cry, but you want to.

It takes her a few long and admittedly awkward moments for Annie to get her arms around you, too. The trembling in her hands is still there, making it slow going for her to find a grip.

The embrace does seem to bring her a modicum of comfort, whether she thinks she deserves it or not. Her breathing slows and evens, and she starts to actually hug you in return instead of just holding her arms on top of you.

She pulls you so close to you that you have to shift again. Your arm slides beneath the pillow and around her from beneath, and she scoots so that you can put your head on her shoulder. It leaves you wrapped up in more of an intimate position than you’d anticipated, but it’s nice.

Neither of you moves, and you get the impression that Annie feels just as safe and warm as you do in the moment. Nothing is okay, but right now you can ignore that. That’s more than you’ve ever had before.

You stay in that position for a while, though neither of you are tired. Annie twists your hair in her fingers, and the two of you are both so grateful to be with another person that the silence is comfortable. All you do is lie there and absorb the quiet and fleeting moment of peace. You grow used to the feeling of the rising and falling of Annie’s breath, only interrupted by the occasional wavering inhales left over from the earlier crying.

“Can you promise me something?” she asks after a considerable amount of time has passed.

You look up at the shadowy outline of her face and nod.

And although you can’t see her eyes, you feel them on you. “No matter what happens… don’t die on me.”

“Oh,” you stumble, a little taken aback. You aren’t sure what you’d expected her to say, but it hadn’t been that. “I’ll try…”

She breathes out hard, but not angrily. More like she’s sad. Far away and isolated.

“I’m serious. You deserve to have a life and to be happy,” she tells you, deadpan, as she touches your face. “Please… I need you to live.”

The tenderness of her actions and the intensity of her words is such a sharp contrast that it gives you chills. It would have been just as effective for her to have flipped you around and pinned you down – you feel a little cornered despite that her attention is affectionate.

“O-okay,” you swear, talking with her thumb atop on your bottom lip, “I promise. I’ll survive.”

Annie shakes her head, hand moving to cup your cheek. “That’s not what I’m asking. I want you to live , not just to survive.”

Again, despite the gentle touches you feel cornered. For a moment, you stare in her direction blankly.

You’re about to respond, but she doesn’t give you time before she turns on her side. She does not pull out of your embrace, though she does lean back a bit.

“Can you promise me that when you have the choice of being dead or being a coward,” she asks, her voice so serious that you’re nearly “you’ll always choose to be a coward? For me?”

More than anything, you’re concerned. You’ve never seen her acting like this before, and it leaves a strange pit in your stomach. What was prompting this?

You stroke from the curve of her neck down over her shoulders. “Okay, I will. I’ll do it, I’ll be a coward.”

Annie stares at you like she’s trying to cut through the dark. And with that determination, you fully expect her to be able to see every detail of your face, even if your own eyes have only gotten used to the darkness enough to see outlines.

“Promise?” she confirms, with bated breath.

You pull her back into your arms, squeezing her against you. It surprises you when she immediately grasps you back, with the same intensity and desperation that you have.

“Yes. I’ll stay alive,” you whisper into her hair, “I promise.”

It feels weird, making a promise that you don’t particularly want. More than likely your military postings would keep you apart, and you wouldn’t feel like you had anything to live for anyway. Yet when you have someone that you love so wildly clinging to you like you’re everything, it’s hard to want to leave that behind.

Maybe you lived in a cruel world. You didn’t have a choice in your own destiny and you might be scared shitless, but you were loved. Someone cared about you, someone wanted the best for you. That feeling swells in your heart and threatens to burst inside of your chest.

Someday, maybe, you could be with her again. Who knows what will happen? Maybe you’ll be injured, or run away like you always do. Leave the military and find Annie wherever she’s posted. While she’s a high ranking MP, you’ll stay in all day as her housewife. You’ll get cats, maybe a dog that Annie goes soft on.

If staying alive is the only way for you to have a shot at being with her then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It didn’t matter how long it could take, you decide. As long as she’s alive, you don’t want to put her through the pain of mourning you.

You will be a coward, if it’s for her sake.

Neither of you says anything for a good while after that. Eventually, you fall back into more comfortable positions, and you continue to daydream while she goes back to stroking your hair. The motion lulls you into a state of calm that makes you nuzzle right up into her feeling right at home.

“Thank you,” she whispers. You’re not sure what she’s thanking you for and doesn’t seem to have any intention of elaborating, but you’re not surprised. It’s one of the things you’ve come to expect from Annie.

She never had been much of a talker. It breaks your heart that her vulnerability came at such a steep price – you wanted to know more. More about why she was so withdrawn when connection is all that she craves. Why she was so angry all the time and why she was so cagey about her dad. You wanted to know everything that she was bottling up inside of her.

Slowly but surely, she’s telling you more, letting you in further, but there’s still something she can’t say. Something that haunts her so heavily that she can’t even confront it herself, perhaps. A nameless evil that would swallow you whole, and she was protecting you from.

What was the point of theorizing? You trusted Annie enough to come to you in her own time.

As tiredness begins to overwhelm you, you adjust ever so slightly in her arms. She kisses your forehead, and your arm snakes around her torso. It’s intimate, calm, and everything that you needed after the worst day of your lives.

After a while, you do what you never would have been able to do on your own after today. With your head on Annie’s shoulder, you fall asleep.

[robofriend]

Here’s a short excerpt from chapter 1 of my Near x Reader fic! It’s called Insomnia. The full story is up on A03 now, I’ll include a link at the end :)

(Spoiler warning since it’s post-canon!)

____________________

Near studied the drawing (y/n) had made of him. He was surprised by the way they had portrayed him. In the drawing, he looked shy, thoughtful. (y/n) had drawn a small hint of a smile on Near's face as Near assembled his card colosseum. (y/n) had drawn some clouds in the background as well.

In the drawing, Near looked surprisingly... human. He didn't look like the cold, mechanical robot everyone described him as.

Near tilted his head thoughtfully, twirling a piece of his soft white hair in his signature way. “It's nice. I like it. But why are there clouds?”

(y/n) cracked a small smile. “My drawings tend to err on the abstract side. Symbolism, surrealism- you name it. You remind me of clouds because… to me, your presence is very calming.” (Y/n) finally said.

“You think so?”

“I do! Honestly, I... wish I could be more like you.”

Near’s mouth twisted into a frown. “...like me?”

(Y/n) grinned. “Yeah. Not in terms of sleeping habits, though. You’ve got to get some sleep, dude.”

“I don’t want to,” Near pouted stubbornly.

“If you do, I’ll pay you $5.”

“You’re resorting to bribery?” Near raised an eyebrow.

“Yep.” (y/n) turned their pockets inside out. “How ‘bout a five-dollar bill, 6 nickels, 4 dimes, 3 pennies, and a stick of gum?” Wait, I don’t remember buying gum. Whose gum is this? “Err... actually, on second thought, maybe don’t chew the gum.”

“I don’t like gum, I have sufficient funds, and would it not have been more efficient to simply say $5.73?”

“Noo, cut me some slack, Mr. Algebra. It’s 1 am and my last brain cells have withered and died,” (y/n) lamented.

“Then why aren’t you asleep?” Near questioned.

I’ve always loved the soothing quiet of the night. When I was younger, I’d sneak outside with a flashlight and a notebook and work on late-night drawings beneath a canopy of stars.

At night, the monsters were asleep. No one would bother me.

(Y/n) snapped back into reality, only to find Near studying them intently. His smoky gray eyes bore into theirs.

“I just like the night. It’s nice. But anyways- how come you’re up so late, Near?” (Y/n) deflected.

Near fumbled with his dominoes. “I can’t sleep. In my mind there is a constant, endless flow of thoughts. I cannot stop it.” his impassive gaze returned to the three puppets in front of him.

Did I make the right choices? How many lives could have been saved if I did things differently? If I’d been smarter?

L is dead. Mello is dead. Everyone’s dead.

No… not everyone. (y/n) was right there, sitting in front of him, sympathy evident in their eyes.

[chaotictarlos]

5, 4, 3, 2, 1 aka. 2022 Recap

Thank you to the wonderful @good-ways and @tailoredshirt the tag! You're a peach 😘

Guidelines: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favourite line you’ve written this year!

post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022

You took the best of my heart and left the rest in pieces Word Count: 23,520 | Summary: An exploration of emotions. The Breakup Era from Carlos' POV

This is the fic that took 6 months to write. It was my greatest achievement of 2022. It took so much out of me to write, many tears, and almost deletions but it turned out so beautiful. It's my favorite fic that I wrote this year, and one that I cherish deeply. It was well worth all of the time that it took to write.

With love, your soulmate| Word Count: 27,658 | Chapters: 7 / 10 | Summary: Carlos Reyes doesn’t think he has a soulmate. In the 22 years he had been alive he had never found anything that would tell him otherwise. At first, it bothered him that he was seemingly without anyone and that there wasn’t a perfect person out there for him but he learned to grow comfortable with that information. He learned to adapt, to date enough that he wouldn’t be lonely, and on the nights when he was without anyone he found ways to make himself feel good. He was content. Or so he thought so until a letter arrived on the day of his 22 birthday. A letter addressed to him, from the past and from his soulmate. From there, they start talking. Leaving letters for each other to find and read, falling in love through the words that they shared. Will TK ever catch up to Carlos so that they can have their happy ever after? Or will time remain cruel to them?

This fic was a bit out of my comfort zone and dealt with a new concept. It's been a blast to write and I've enjoyed pushing myself out of my comfort zone. I hope to get this one done very soon!!

Fuck my life up | Word Count: 2,728 | Summary: The one time Carlos and TK talked when they were broken up.

It's no secret that I'm obsessed with the breakup era and exploring the dynamics there. I fully believe, in my little hc, that Tarlos hooked up at least once during their breakup era. This was my take on that.

finding the sun in a world of shadows | Word Count: 5453 | Chapters: 2 / 10 | Summary: In a post-apocalyptical world, two lost souls find each other.

This is another one that took me out of my comfort zone but it's been really fun to write and build the world. I have chapter three done and I need to post it, this is another one I'm hoping to get done this year.

It was always you | Word Count: 3333 | Summary: Sometimes in order to find out just how much you’re meant to be with someone, you have to fall apart and lose them first.

This is one of those getting back together fic's but I adore it so much. I love a good ex's to lovers fic and I love how this one turned out. It was a joy to write.

4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year I have so many I'm excited for.

(along with the two mentioned above):

TK POV Breakup Era Fic - this is a companion fic to the Carlos POV Breakup Era Fic and shows TK's side of things. It's slowly coming along but it's gonna be good and my hope is to have it done by summer!

Sequel to Carlos & TK Breakup Era Fic - this will focus on how and why TK come back together. It'll be canon divergence and won't follow along with how they got back together in canon, but I like the spin on it that I've decided to go with. I think it'll be a fun fic and it'll include a lot of conversations we missed.

[Redacted] Tarlos AU - 😉😏 this one is yet to be started but I have it mapped out. I'm keeping a little hush on the details, though. Sometimes it's fun to have surprises 😘

Secret Dating AU - Professor!TK x Social Worker!Carlos. This one I am currently writing and already has 4 chapters. I'm hoping to write it all out before I start posting it. This is another one I hope to have done by summer.

your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year

Length - My fics this year were longer and more fleshed out. They and more details and really went into the story rather than just brushed the surface.

Dialogue - I always feel like my dialogue is bad, but I think I improved on it this year. Hopefully I'll improve more on it this coming year too.

Ideas - I think my ideas have been better in general, which is really nice.

top 2 resolutions

Writing for myself and my pleasures which includes not being as upset / obsessed over numbers and how people might react to what I write. At the end of the day I need to be the one happy with the content I create, other people liking it is just a bonus.

Keeping in mind that I do this for fun. This is a fun past time and it shouldn't be stressful. Nobody knows me in real life, they only know a fraction of who I am and they may or may not make an accurate judgement of myself. And that's okay. As long as I'm having fun, that's all that matters.

number 1 favourite line you’ve written this year!

That’s what he got for thinking - a broken heart and an empty home that didn’t feel like home without TK. - which, of course, is from Carlos Breakup Era Fic

No pressure tags: @11thstreetvigilante @theghostofashton @bubblesandroses8 @mooshkat @cowlos-reyes @thebumblecee @noxsoulmate @detective-giggles

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

For the character ask, i'm gonna throw it back with a bellamy blake

Ooooh, that is a throw back. Bellamy Blake beloved, let’s go. 

First impression

I came to the show late, when gifs of the season two finale were absolutely flooding my dash, so I will say that I was predisposed to like Bellamy and ship Bellarke, but the first few episodes I really disliked Bellamy. I appreciated that he was smart, and resourceful, and clearly cared about his sister, but he was such an arsehole. It wasn’t until Earth Kills and the whole Charlotte debarcle that I really started to warm up to him. 

Impression now

My darling! My beloved! My dearly departed! Honestly, whenever I think about Bellamy now I just get angry. Both the character and Bob Morley were so severely fucked over by that ending it makes me miserable, which is really unfortunate, because I truly believe that - even though from season 3 I feel like the writing team started to lose touch with his character - up until season 7 and whatever that was, it was still recoverable. Bob poured his heart and soul into a character that was so beautiful and complex, he was a phenomenal lead, and it’s just so shitty the way he and his character were treated for such bullshit petty reasons. Maybe one day I’ll be able to think back on Bellamy without all those mixed up feelings, but for now, that’s just not the case. 

Favorite moment

Oof, there’s so many to choose from. But it’s gotta be when he repeats the line “I do it everyday” to Monty’s mum. It’s such a satisfying moment to see him return back to his core values, and actually do what’s best for his people, rather than fall in line behind Pike. I get chills every time. 

Idea for a story

A fic I should finish but have only written the first chapter for is A book tells more than one story. The basic storyline would be that Bellamy finds a copy of the Aeneid, gets super excited because he’s a fucking nerd and also some family history stuff, but when he actually goes to read it the book is so aged and weathered it’s hardly legable. Upset and disappointed, he gives it to Clarke instead as an art pad, given that the paper’s still pretty good quality. Clarke would be confused over the gift, given this would still be Season One kind of era, and that would seem out of character to her, however she talks to Octavia, who explains it all out and also how important history and mythology are to Bellamy, Clarke then decides instead of a general art pad, she’s going to essentially “restore” the book, but has limited knowledge of the original story. She ends up piecing together her own version of the Aenied from the bits she can read, and fills the book back out with her own verses and pictures, and then gifts the book back to Bellamy as a peace offering and an official start to their partnership and friendship. I’d love to write it out properly one day, but for now the first chapter will have to do. 

Unpopular opinion

Bellamy in later seasons (that is season 5 and 6) was not OOC at all and the maturity he developed off-screen in the time jump was actually a welcome and necessary change. Also Aurora Blake gets a bad wrap and isn’t as bad as she’s painted. 

Favorite relationship

Bellarke babey! Bellarke was so so so good. It was perfect and they fucked it up and literally the only thing that makes me not as bitter as I technically feel I should is that Bob and Eliza actually got together. I’m so happy for them and wish them every happiness. 

Favorite headcanon

Not so much a headcanon as canon divergence, but I do have a particular soft spot for the “Season One Era Bellamy and Clarke adopt an abandoned grounder baby” genre of fic. I also really love Bob’s comment that in an ideal world, Bellamy would be a kindergarten teacher, I think it’s really sweet. 

Thanks nonny! I really enjoyed answering these 😊

Send Me a Character and I’ll answer the same questions about them 

[emmiewtf]

renga fic recs to help fill the void<3

the momentary space that we call now by beecalm: The park beside the sea is haunted. It takes Langa two weeks of skateboarding lessons to realise this. chapters: 2/2 words: 21.8k

But Not Shattered by MermaidMarie: Oka takes Reki to the hospital after finding him beaten up in an alleyway. (canon divergent from ep10) chapters: 12/12 words: 65.7k

I Know You (better than you know yourself) by SpeedOfSnake:  After a skating accident, Langa loses some of his memories. All Reki wants is to restore their previous friendship, but wonders if has the right back into his life when it was his fault that Langa got hurt. chapters: 12/12 words: 64.5k

there’s a hole in my soul (can you fill it?) by vitane: Langa is a pro-snowboarder who’s dealing with grief. Reki has just moved to Canada carrying deep homesickness with himself. Together, they help each other heal their wounds. chapters: 11/11 words: 58.9k

he was a skater boy, he said—no, you know what, no, we're not calling it that by arahir: Everyone knows Reki and Langa are dating. Everyone except Reki, that is. chapters: 2/2 words: 8.1k

to build a home by thankskelley: The king, Langa’s father, died a year ago. It makes sense to form alliances. It makes sense to strengthen those alliances with marriage. Maybe it’s wrong for Langa to be so apathetic about his own wedding, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Reki is trying his hardest to be the prince his country deserves, to be the heir his mother can rely on. It’s difficult, however, when everything he does is so far from good enough. He’s also getting married, which is kind of a big deal. He can’t wait to meet the guy. chapters: 6/7 words: 61.7k

training wheels by mayflymusic:  After discovering that Langa never learned to ride a bike, Reki takes it upon himself to try and teach him. It...doesn't go well. chapters: 4/4 words: 9.7k

Love at First Sip by tamakibaby: There were two universal truths for college students that Langa had come to realize during his first semester: ‘8 AMs’ were a product of Satan himself and coffee (or any other form of caffeine, really) was man’s true best friend. So it came as no surprise that he stopped by the coffee shop every Monday morning before class and when he needed a pick-me-up. Whether the mood boost was due to the caffeine or the barista who was like sunshine incarnate and always spelled his name wrong on his cup, that was becoming harder to tell with every visit. chapters: 7/7 words: 22.4k

I've Got A Piece of Your Heart (But I Want the Whole Damn Thing) by Jenanigans1207: Reki asks Langa to translate the English writing of his soulmate and is left to wonder why, exactly, Langa turns so incredibly red as he does exactly that. chapters: 4/4 words: 29.8k

let go, take flight by babybluebells, maranch:  Happiness comes in many different forms. Reki and Langa find their own, in their figure skating and maybe, just maybe, in each other. chapters: 5/? words: 37.7k

if you kiss me, will it be just like i dreamed it? by sk8ingfrogs (cursedhazel):  Reki writes down everything he wants to do after graduation but doesn't quite remember putting "fall in love with your best friend" on the list. chapters: 1/1 words: 10k

read in between the lines by minfresh: The love letter is two sentences long. There isn’t even a Dear Langa, that’s how short it is. It covers approximately 10% of the paper’s surface area. The sentences get straight to the point. I have a crush on you. Isn’t that awful? It’s written in striking red, in an almost illegible handwriting. There’s no signature. For the first time in Langa’s life, he cares about a love confession. chapters: 1/1 words: 6.7k

Secret Admirers for Dummies: A Canadian's Guide to Falling in Love by discokonomi: Reki gets a secret admirer. Langa pines, wonders, comes to a realization, and stumbles into love. chapters: 1/1 words: 6.2k

Not Another Song By Avril Lavigne by alpha_hydra: Someone likes Reki, but they wish there was one tiny thing different about him. Surprisingly, Langa is the only one other than Reki who has a problem with this. Now with added love letters, confessions, bisexual crises, and dubious skateboarding knowledge. chapters: 3/3 words: 13.7k

Looking for You by IetjeSiobhan:  It is there, looking, for all intents and purposes, as if it’s been there forever: a snowboard, beautiful and delicate and in the prettiest shade of pastel blue. (soulmark au) chapters: 1/1 words: 3.4k

Pick Me Up by Venxvon:  When Reki asks Langa if he was going to carry him back, he means it as a joke. Langa, on the other hand, absolutely does not. (post ep11) chapters: 1/1 words: 3.9k

Double-edged by realfakedoors: Hasegawa Langa, a young noble with an unreasonable amount of responsibility about to be dropped into his lap following the death of his father, takes a season away from the northern province he's called home. He travels with his mother to Solaris, the kingdom's capitol and her homeland--it will do them good, she said. (She forgot to mention the part where they got ambushed by highwaymen on the way there.) Enter Kyan Reki, an apprentice blacksmith, who is just fulfilling a stupid errand for stupid Shadow, since he technically beat Reki in their last match at S. He ends up involving himself in the lives of some northern nobles, and before he knows it, he's thrust into a world of nobility and politics that might prove to be much more dangerous than any swordfighting could ever be. chapters: 3/? words: 18.2k

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! Hope you’re well :) Do you have a 5+1 rec list? It’s one of my all time favourite tropes and having just found a new one I wondered if you knew of any more? Sorry if you already have one linked somewhere, I’m still not very familiar with tumblr! (The new one I found is works/23857900/chapters/57342538 - sorry I’m not sure how to link properly on asks yet either! 😖

anonymous asked: What’s ur opinion on 5+1 fics?

Hi Lovelies!

Ahhh, sorry for the delay on this one!! I love 5 and Ones!! :D I’ve been tagging them since the beginning 3 years ago so I could more easily find them, just WAITING for people to ask, LOL. I read them a lot on FFNet (it was a BIG fad in the early noughts to have 5+1 fics, just like song fics were a 90′s thing lol)

So here y’all are, plus the one @johnlockedin221b suggested which I haven’t read yet! Please feel free to add your own here! 

I’ve also added some *CLOSE TO* five and ones, so like four and ones, I have a 7 times fic, and just one with 5 times. Hope y’all enjoy!

----

FIVE AND ONES (and SIMILAR FICS)

Once Upon A Time by ProfessorSquirrell (T, 908 w., 1 Ch. || Family, Snippets of Life, Romance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Implied Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending) – There is a room in Sherlock's mind palace where nothing gets deleted. And it looks like this...

The Four Incidents by TheGirlWithRedHair22 (K+, 1,064 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, John Whump, Accident, John POV, Hand Holding, Worried Sherlock, Sherlock’s Self Esteem) – The first time John was present when someone insulted Sherlock, he brushed it off as a strange coincidence.

Five Times John Watson Remained Oblivious by thriceandonce (K+, 1,154 w., 1 Ch. || Five and Ones, Romance, Friendship, Asexual Sherlock, Queerplatonic Relationship) – ...And one time he didn't.

Five Times John Didn't Notice Sherlock (and one time he did) by somanyhands (T, 1,369 w., 6 Ch. || Friendship, Five and Ones, 221B Format Oneshots) – Five times out oblivious John Watson didn't notice Sherlock, and one time he really did. A short series of (five plus one) 221B fics, just because.

The 3x John Carried Sherlock, and Once ViceVersa by ShinkonoKokoro (K+, 1,673 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friendship, Three and One, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Worried Sherlock, John Gets Shot) – It happens more than he suspects.

The Perfect Place by SilverSmile (K+, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance, 5 and Ones, Fluff, Experiments, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock attempts to find the perfect place to sleep, but his little experiment proves to be far more difficult than expected.

Like Euphoria and Scotch by FinAmour (M, 1,856 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fix It, Five and One, Alchohol / Drinking, POV Second Person Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Imagination, Armchair Sex, Cracky and Fluff, Happy Ending) – 5 different ways it all could have gone + the one way it actually works itself out.

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

The Perfect Place by SilverSmile (K+, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance, 5 and Ones, Fluff, Experiments, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock attempts to find the perfect place to sleep, but his little experiment proves to be far more difficult than expected.

Five Times Sherlock Realized He Was Getting Older by Mildred Graves (T, 9,215 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Old) – . . . And one time it didn't matter.

It Was All Right There In Front of Him (A Five Times Plus One Story) by bees_stories (T, 3,191 w., 1 Ch. || 5+1, Protective Idiots, Grooming, Bed Sharing, Lestrade POV) – DI Greg Lestrade is a good detective. But sometimes he doesn't trust the evidence in front of him, until there's a compelling reason to do so.

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

Atrium by kali_asleep (T, 3,460 w., 1 Ch. || 5+1, Valentines Day, Fluff & Schmoop, First Kiss) – Five times Sherlock gave John his heart, and the one time Sherlock got a heart in return (literally)

Because Your Coat is Part of You by camellialice (K, 3,705 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and 1, Canon Compliant, Sherlock’s Coat, Angst, Fluff) – Five times John wore Sherlock's coat and one time he didn't need to.

Five Times John Cooked Something with Peas and One First Kiss by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (T, 3,915 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Cooking / Food, Sick Sherlock, Music, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss) – After John cooks five dinners that slowly reveal their hunger for each other, Sherlock and John finally share a first kiss.

Human Body Pillow by Lunavere (K, 4,122 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Sleepy Johnlock, Bed Sharing) – A story about the five times John fell asleep on Sherlock, and the one time Sherlock fell asleep on him.

What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.

Carry On by Mazarin221b (M, 4,647 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and Ones, H/C, Afghanistan, Frottage, Hand Jobs, First Time) – Five times John didn't want to be carried, and one time he did.

Bed-Sharing Between Flatmates by testosterone_tea (T, 5,053 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Bed Sharing, PTSD John, Science, Whump, Insecure Sherlock) – 5 times Sherlock had an excuse to share John's bed, and the one time he didn't need one.

Storytelling by amythedork (T, 5,126 w., 1 Ch. || John’s Past, Friendship, Humour) – Five times John Watson opens up to Sherlock Holmes, and one time Sherlock Holmes opens up to John Watson. Gen, though could easily be read as pre-slash.

Sociopathy and Other Fibs by kinklock (M, 5,314 w., 1 Ch. || 5+1, Miscommunication, Humour, Friends to Lovers, Post S3, Love Confessions) – Five times John called Sherlock out, and one time Sherlock returned the favour.

five times sherlock holmes lied to john watson (and one time he finally told the truth) by miss_frankenstein (G, 5,948 w., 1 Ch. || TAB Compliant || Homophobia, Pining Sherlock, Oscar Wilde Trials, Happy Ending) – Set in "The Abominable Bride" universe, this piece adopts a familiar format to chronicle Sherlock's quiet suffering in the wake of the 1895 Oscar Wilde trials and the particular way they affect his relationship with (and feelings for) John.

Five Times John Noticed But Didn't Really by ScandalousMinds (T, 6,383 w., 5 Ch. || Domestics, Fluff/Angst, Bratty Sherlock, Idiots, Pre-Slash, Jealous Sherlock, Love Confessions) – 5 times John (thought) he noticed something peculiar about his and Sherlock's relationship but really missed the obvious.

once upon a time by darcylindbergh (M, 6,501 w., 6 Ch. || Fluff and Angst, First Kiss / Time, Love Declarations, Christmas) – It starts with a wish. In the beginning, John comes home. Part 1 of things fairy tales are made of

Five Times by AliuIce0814 (T, 6,667 w., 6 Ch. || Drama, Canon-Compliant S1 & 2, Angst, 5 and Ones, Reunion) – ... Sherlock woke John, and one time John woke Sherlock.

Six Dates by avawtsn (E, 7,421 w., 2 Ch. || 5+1, First Time / Kiss, Post S4-Compliant, POV John) – A rather accidental 5+1 written for the prompt "is this a date?" Hint: it is.

Galapogos by anchors (E, 8,460 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, 5 and 1, John Whump) – Somewhere in the depths of the universe, and somewhere in the middle of Sherlock's chest, a star goes into supernova.

All the Times Something ALMOST Happened by allonsys_girl (T, 9,049 w., 6 Ch. || POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Angst, Friendship/Love, UST) – John and Sherlock dancing around what they dance around in canon.

Illogical, even. by magikspell (E, 9,119 w., 1 Ch. || Grey-Ace Sherlock, Character Study, Growing Up, Victor Trevor, Romance, First Time/Kiss, Sherlock-centric) – Five reasons Sherlock never believed in love and one reason he does now.

A Different Kind of Love by Svenja The Strange (T, 12,357 w., 6 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Romance, Five and One) –  The five times people noticed and the one time John did. A collection of oneshots (some short, some longer) raising the issue of Johns endless dilemma of being deemed for Sherlock’s boyfriend.

A Study in Linguistics by rizandace (T, 12,425 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Canon Compliant/S2 Divergence, Friendship, Slices of Life, Communication, Cranky Sherlock, Hospitals, Sherlock Whump, Pet Cat, Jealous John, Sherlock’s Violin, Anxious Sherlock, John Whump) – Sherlock Holmes and John Watson had their own language. It was a language of few words and minute facial expressions, and John had learned that it was nearly the only way to have an honest conversation with his eccentric flat mate.

First Response by Arwen Jade Kenobi (T, 13,516 w., 8 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Whump / Injury) – Five times John had to perform first aid on Sherlock and one time Sherlock had to perform it on John.

Never-Ending Cycle by orphan_account (T, 17,211 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Est. Rel., Proposal, Fluff) – Or, four times Sherlock Holmes attempted to propose to John Watson, and the Christmas Party at which he finally did. Sherlock thinks he's a miserable failure, John is confused, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade provide some unsatisfactory advice, and Mummy is, as always, the solution. All in a lovely, fluffy holiday theme.

Just a Kiss by emmagrant01 (E, 19,695 w., 7 Ch. || 5+1, Case Fic) – Five times John and Sherlock kissed because of a case and one time they kissed for real.

EMERGENCY CONTACT: Sherlock Holmes, RELATIONSHIP: n/a by blueink3 (M, 5,533 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt John / John Whump, Five and One, Fluff & Angst, Worried Sherlock) – The first time John Watson’s emergency contact is called is the first time Sherlock Holmes finds out that he has the job. Part 1 of The Emergency Contact Series

EMERGENCY CONTACT: John Watson, RELATIONSHIP: Saint by blueink3 (M, 6,229 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt Sherlock, 5+1, Hurt / Comfort, Caring John, Scars) – The first time Sherlock Holmes realizes he needs an emergency contact is the first time he mentally appoints John Watson with the job. John, of course, does not know this and neither does the local hospital. Part 2 of The Emergency Contact Series

Caught In The Act by ShirleyCarlton (E, 7,009 w. across 6 stories || Est. Rel, Voyeurism, Character POV’s, Masturbation, Switchlock) – This is a series of six scenarios written from the points of view of six different people as they accidentally walk in on Sherlock and John having sex.

Five Times Sherlock Realized He Was Getting Older by Mildred Graves (T, 9,215 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Old) – . . . And one time it didn't matter.

The Five Stages of Mourning, Plus One by SunnyRea (T, 10,557 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Pining / Grieving Sherlock, URT, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Drug Use, Graphic Death, Depression, Unhappy Ending) – Sherlock did not want this, did not want another stalemate with John in the middle, a gun in Jim's hand. This cannot have happened without a sign. There has to be something he missed anything which said today is the day I kill for real.

About Sleep and Coffee and the Existence of Fate by Atiki (E, 17,426 w., 6 Ch. || Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Humour, 5+1) – Naturally, John was startled when suddenly the ultimate solution occurred to him: Marriage. This was, of course, a bit of a fundamental problem rather than an actual solution. One didn't simply use the words “Sherlock” and “marriage” within the same sentence. Not even in a hypothetical context. Five times John kind of wanted to propose to Sherlock, and one time he didn’t have to.

Just a Kiss by emmagrant01 (E, 19,695 w., 7 Ch. || 5+1, Case Fic, Kisses) – Five times John and Sherlock kissed because of a case and one time they kissed for real.

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

Five Times: Watching and Waiting by Ira Lea (K+, 23,034 w., 13 Ch. || Friendship, Post-TRF, No Slash) – Five times Sherlock didn't know John was watching, and one time he made sure of it. Five times John didn't know Sherlock was watching, and one time he figured it out. Three years of "he's dead", one moment of "he's alive", and the resulting chase through the streets of London. (Two 5:1s in quick succession and a bonus).

And A Doctor by StillWaters1 (T, 27,393 w., 6 Ch. || Friendship, Doctor John, Whump, Soldier / Doctor Dichotomy, Five and One) – It was only when people actually saw John working as a physician that they began to understand: that it wasn't just about bullets and IEDs and trauma care under fire. That "doctor" actually covered a pretty wide field. And that John was bloody good at covering ground. 5 times Dr. Watson treated others and 1 time he treated himself.

Five Times They Kissed for a Case, and One Time They Kissed for Real by fleetwood_mouse (M, 32,406 w., 6 Ch. || 5+1, Slow Burn, Fluff / Angst, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers) – A stolen ring! An artful blogger! And many more adventures for your enjoyment.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Showering Together, Couple for a Case, Sherlock’s Bum, Fantasies, Jealous Sherlock) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

MARKED FOR LATER

Five Times Sherlock and John Had Realistic Sex and One Time They Didn't by pennydreadful (E, 1,811 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Anal/Oral, Finger Fucking, Hand Jobs) – Reality is a bitch.

A Study in Night Terrors by Dovahlock221 (T, 2,811 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Night Terrors, (Emotional) Hurt/Comfort, PTSD Sherlock, Worried John, Hurt John, Angst with Happy Ending) – Five times Sherlock suffered from night terrors and the one time he had the best dream of his life.

What Every Step Is For by Anyawen (G, 2,921 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Bedsharing, Injury, Illness, Cold, Lack of Beds, Fake Relationship, Fluff) – Five times bedsharing occurred due to circumstance, and one time it happened by invitation.

5 Times John Almost Told Sherlock He Loved Him, and 1 Time He Did by wanderlustmind (T, 3,006 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Additional Tags to be added) – As adorable as a box of puppies, I promise.

The Fundamental Things Apply by Raina_at (M, 6,263 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Kissing) – "Kisses that are easily obtained are easily forgotten." - Proverb

Five Times Sherlock Fell Asleep in John's Arms by Accident and the One Time He Did It – Accidentally – on Purpose by WillowGrove (T, 7,201 w., 6 Ch, || Five and One, Falling Asleep, Cuddling & Snuggling, Texting, Tea, First Kiss, Dreams, Fever, Comfort, Caretaker John, Love, Humour, Fluff) – Sherlock notices that John keeps cuddling him to sleep and he rather likes it. But then John stops, and Sherlock has to result to schemes to make it happen again. Who falls asleep, who wakes up in who’s arms, and – most importantly – will there be a kiss in the end?

Dinner Conversations, a 5+1 by BakerTumblings (G, 7,559 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Blended Families, Parentlock, Dinner Conversations, Established Relationship, Family Adventures, Five and Ones) – Five times that John had something to say at or about dinnertime, and one time where John was requested to listen. Part 8 of Eyes Wide Open

The Refractive Index by NoStraightLine (E, 10,395 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, BAMF John, Crossdressing, Sherlock is Shot, Oral Fixation, First Time, Hurt/Comfort) – Five times John and Sherlock fuck in a bolt-hole, and one time they don't.

Five Christmases that went wrong and one that didn't by love_in_mind_palace (M, 11,685 w., 6 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff & Smut, Domestics, Est. Rel., 5 and 1′s, Canon Divergence, Tooth-Rotting Fluff) – John isn’t sure about most of the things in his life. Except for the fact that he loves Sherlock, Sherlock loves him back and that after years of bad luck, he is getting the Christmas he always deserved.

In Plain Sight by SilentAuror (E, 18,100 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, 5 and Ones, POV Sherlock, Sex on Trains, Sex During Investigations, Sex in Offices, Unspoken Feelings, Anal, Slight Medical Kink, Public Sex Kink) – Five times that Sherlock and John have sex of some kind without talking about it and one time when they do. Part 1 of the Public Sex Kink

Just Dance by 7PercentSolution (M, 22,784 w., 6 Ch. || Four and One, For a Case, Drug Use, Abusive Boss, Ballroom Dancing, Sherlock Loves Dancing, Blackmail, Unrequited Love, Courtship) – Four dances that Sherlock taught Janine — and one he didn’t. Never mind if it leads him into dangerous territory; how could Sherlock resist a case from Lady Smallwood that lets him use his dancing skills? This is a gift work to Silvergirl, who is an inspiration to us all.

5 times Sherlock got (a) dressed like a woman, plus 1 he did not by Nauss (M, 25,719 w., 6 Ch. || Friendship and Romance, 5 and Ones, French Language Fic) – Ton regard est baissé et ton attitude ne brille pas de son habituel éclat Je-sais-que-tu-considères-que-je-n'aurais-pas-dû-mais-la-science-John. À la place, il y a tous ces petits détails que je ne parviens pas à voir, alors je m'approche de ta silhouette enrobedechambrée. Puis je lève la main, bouche bée. - John rentre en avance du travail et tombe sur un imprévu sherlockien.

Exit- An Ex Files Special by 7PercentSolution (G, 27,148 w., 6 Ch. || Sherlock/Victor Trevor, Angst Like Whoa, TRF-Compliant, Multiple POV’s, Unrequited Love, Whump, TBI and Recovery, Heartbreak, Romance, PTSD, Grieving, Five and One) – The end (or not, as the case may be), covering The Fall and its aftermath. Can be considered both a conclusion to my Fallen Angel series and a coda to Extricate and The Ex. A five plus one.

under the burden of solitude by subtext-is-my-division (E, 27,947 w., 5 Ch. || S3/S4 Fix It/Post TLD, Angst, Grief/Mourning, First Kiss, Mentions of Rape, Hurt/Comfort, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Fantasies, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Suicidal Thoughts Mentions, Five and Ones) – Five times they shared a bed platonically, and one time they didn't.

Caesura by emilycare (M, 36,608 w., 10 Ch. || Five and One, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Friends to Lovers, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Bisexual John) – The violin is a retreat that eases the quiet of Sherlock Holmes' solitude. It also speaks for him when he cannot bridge the gaps his defenses create. Moments when music helps Sherlock reach out or let others in, like his stalwart flatmate and, in time, the doctor's daughter. Five times Sherlock Holmes played the violin, and one time he did not.

Magpies Series by 7PercentSolution (T, 218,813+ w. across 4 works || Series WIP || Post TRF, Drug Withdrawal, References to Torture, Confessions, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, PTSD, Oblivious John) – The Magpies series covers the events of the broadcast series three and four, "translated" into my universe. I wrote a lot of it before the episodes were broadcast and made some of my themes into AU (such as the Holmes parents and the sibling). Darker, more intense and angsty than Game Theory and Fallen Angel, the Magpies stories show the effects of the hiatus on all concerned. When parts five to 8 are completed, the series will bring the Ford saga to a conclusion.

[peppersonironi]

Sambucky Fic Recs #2

Part One |

Today's Theme: Soulmate Au's

Welcome to this today's theme! I happen to really enjoy these types of fics and thankfully there's a decent selection in the sambucky tag! Here are Ten fics for your enjoyment! (more under the cut)

1. A Touch of Pain by TowardTheStars

Sam had just turned seven when his world first exploded into pain.

Or, Sam feels his soulmate's pain and wishes to save them from their torment.

Quick warning before we get into things: This is currently a WIP. But I'm finding it great so far! This fic is more Sam-focused with great angst. Also some past Sam/Riley, which I'm always a sucker for!

2. Bright Colors Of Love by Yoursaltness_and_TheMemeQueen

The first time soulmates had skin to skin touch you’d be able to see the colors, that whenever you touched you’d be able to see the world in color, and that the first kiss made colors permanent.

When Sam Wilson is 20 he meets Riley, he falls in love. He takes a risk and holds his hand, the world stays black and white, and he thinks he understands why his aunt says that you don’t need a soulmate to be happy. When Riley dies, there is a bitter part of him that thanks the universe for not making them soulmates. - The first time James “Bucky” Barnes heard about soulmates was through the TV.

He reaches out to hold Steves hand and wonders if the universe can make mistakes.

He decides at about 17 that maybe soulmates are overrated, that the universe is too mysterious to trust. As he’s falling and hears Steve’s cry, he decided the universe is a bitch that knows too much and probably hates his guts. - Flash forward, Bucky knows they're soulmates, Sam doesn't.

Secret Santa Gift for Max!!

This has just the right amount of angst, and I was amazed by how well written it was! I love this fic so much!

3. Reach Out and Hold the Sun by Aluxra

When you touch your soulmate skin to skin, you leave a colour unique to you on them. 106 years and Bucky never received a mark.

Until Now.

Oh my gosh the mutual pining! The uncertainty! The fear of rejection! The utter relief and love that comes at the end! I was grinning ear to ear the whole time reading this!

4. redefining in every way what love is by lovelypenguins1717

On the non-dominant wrist of every person lays a soulmark. A unique mark that appears whenever their soulmate is born. It is the true north to their other half.

Bucky never had a mark and now he’ll never know.

Sam had found his, but the soulmark is meaningless now that Riley’s dead.

But sometimes soulmates are chosen.

*COMPLETE*

Now this is an interesting twist on soulmate aus! I usually love the ones where the people are destined for each other, but I have to admit that I really enjoyed the idea of choosing each other. It was so sweet!

5. Exactly What You're Looking For by @snarky-drabbles

When you lose something, it might appear beside your soulmate in the morning.

Sam never found anything from his soulmate until after Bucky Barnes dragged Steve from the Potomac.

Bucky grew up never finding a thing either, but after he finally gets free from Hydra, he starts finding things beside him the morning.

This is the story of them coming together.

now with a chapter of outtakes and alternate ending

I'll be honest, this fic is hilarious!! The romance aspect and yearning is great, but that ending is just on another level!

More Fics Under the Cut

6. I keep closing my eyes (but I can't blink you out) by @lesbianhozier

Bucky avoids eye contact as much as possible. He can hold a conversation without so much as looking at your face, the only exception to this being Steve. Sam definitely knows why and has seen it a few times before; soulmates. A brief moment of eye contact can change your entire life if it’s with the right person; your soulmate.

canon divergence in Civil War fic. I'll be honest this isn't necessarily my favorite, and it feels a touch weird near the end, but I still enjoyed it! The premise was fascinating and the writing was pretty good.

7. adored by @capnwinghead

The marks were legend - your soulmate's name on one wrist and your enemy's on the other. Most people spent their lives trying to decipher them. Bucky Barnes spent most of his life avoiding them.

Oh the angst in this one!!! So good!!

8. gunmetal grey by Someone_aka_Me

Soulmates wear the same mask, and only your soulmate can remove it.

Sam isn't expecting to find his mask in a history book, worn by a man who's been dead for decades.

I literally cannot sing the praises of this fic enough!!! Holy crap it's so good!!!! It takes place in ca:tws and continues afterwards, but it ignores AoU/ca:cw. I don't read to many fics from this era (working on more of them, though! I got a request for some fic recs, and my research is so much fun!), but I'm honestly adoring this so much. And the writing is so good too! And the whole premise of soulmate masks was fascinating to me! I've never read a fic like this before. BUT I LOVED IT SO MUCH!!!!

9. there is a sweetness in you by Someone_aka_Me

AU: Your soulmate is the only person who cannot hurt you.

Sam gets kicked off a helicarrier — yet he can't help but notice the boot to the chest doesn't hurt like it should.

Yeah, yet another of this kind of au. They seem to be semi-popular for sambucky (Kinda? there aren't too many soulmate au fics though). But I'm a sucker for them, alright? And this one is so cute too! :-D

10. Fortune Tellers And Falling & Fortune Tellers And Falling: Part 2 by @jeffersonshattricks

Prompt: During a “game” Sam is told that is soulmate will be the next person to do “X” to him and it happens to be Bucky. Sam is in denial but destiny cannot be stopped.

&

The is Bucky's POV for the first part of this. It explains how he knew they were soul mates, and shows a bit of what he went through while waiting for Sam to catch up.

A Two-Parter right here, guys! So fun! I love fics that show both POV's, they just add a new dimension, alright? Also, the pining and uncertainty in these are super good!

And that's it for today folks! I really hope you enjoy these! Once again, feel free to hop into my asks and request any trope or theme you'd like! I already got one that I'm currently working on, so that'll be fun! I also have a coupole other themes that I'm working on right now too, and I'm really excited about them!

Also, let me know if you want to be tagged for these!

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 7: Natural Born Killers

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would  have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training  centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from,  your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for  a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no  girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when  Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular,  highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have  bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4  champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a  living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick  is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that  Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially  when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer,  and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to  ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 9.5K

Warning: This chapter is very heavy with multiple deaths described in detail.

PLEASE AVOID READING IF YOU CONSIDER THIS CONTENT UPSETTING

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does  writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those  behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he  approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of  these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

You had remained with the girl’s body after her canon sounded. The momentary adrenaline rush from killing her attacker had faded and you were filled with despair at the sight of her lifeless eyes. It was strange how little guilt you were feeling, you had just killed someone – something you never thought you could actually do. Even though what he was about to do to the girl was disgusting, you were expecting to feel some sense of remorse over taking another life, but yet there was none. You remembered Hoseok’s vicious attack on seven from yesterday and shuddered, did you have more in common with him than you wanted to admit?

‘No.’ You shook your head, arguing with yourself. ‘He’s a monster, he took pleasure in his kill. I killed to protect someone else… But didn’t Hoseok kill to protect you?’

Disturbed by your conflicting emotions you hit your head against trunk of the tree, begging for the thoughts to leave your head. It was too much to try and process right now, especially with the girl’s body lying on the ground next to you. The impact on your skull and the rough bark grazing against your forehead provided a welcome distraction from your inner monologue.

For a moment, you thought that a whirring noise was coming from the ringing in your head, until you felt a blustering wind, along with surrounding leaves and twigs beginning to lift from the ground. Confused, you scrambled away from the girl and over to your bag. Shouldering the straps, you whipped your head around trying to see what the cause could possibly be, as the wind and whirring sound only grew stronger.

With nothing abnormal around you, you turned your gaze upwards to see an airship hovering just above the trees. A door along the bottom opened, and a large metal claw slowly began to lower through the leaves, knocking several branches out of the way. You stumbled backwards, not wanting to get in its way, and watched with sick fascination as the claw reached the boy. It hovered for a few seconds, getting its bearings, before the metallic arms began to retract. The gears whirred as they clasped around the body, some digging into the dirt below him, before they formed a tight grip with a sealed clunk. And then the claw was moving upwards, the thick cord retracting until it disappeared into the ship above.

It was such an odd sight, such an inhumane way to treat a dead child (‘the dead child you had just killed’). You just stood there staring, until the claw reappeared at the door, once again empty. You looked over to the girl’s body, regretfully knowing she would be taken next. But there was nothing you could do for her. You didn’t know if the airship could be giving away your location, or whether the other tributes would think to run in the opposite direction, but you didn’t want to stay and find out. Securing your bag, you turned your back and ran.

 *

 Two hours later it was difficult to see the sun through the leaves above, which made it hard to try and navigate. You were starting to run low on water and you had an idea to try and get to the edge of the pool behind the cornucopia, closer to the waterfall. Your idea was basically that people who wanted supplies would go to the cornucopia itself and those trying to run away would have gone in the opposite direction. If you could sneak along the edge of the forest, maybe you could reach the fall and stay hidden. Your plan had worked well, after finding where the edge of the forest neared the river, you had stayed hidden in the trees and made your way in the direction of the waterfall. When the cornucopia came into sight, you took a longer detour back inland through the trees, not wanting to risk coming into contact with any tributes who might be hiding so close to supplies.

You knew you were getting close when the sound of crashing water began to get louder, and more rocks started appearing in your path. A canon sounding very close by caused you to jump and momentarily forget your plan. Looking around you had to be at the cliff that would take you up towards the top of the fall. Remembering the careers from yesterday, you knew you definitely didn’t want to keep going in that direction. The noise of the canon seemed to have come from further inside the forest, close to where you had been walking through only moments ago. Climbing up the cliff wasn’t an option, and neither was staying in this part of the woods, so the waterfall remained your target. You let the noise of the water guide you and continued to made your way over – the surface becoming increasingly rockier the closer that you got.

The cornucopia came into view, in all of its temptation. It was across the other side of the rocks that you were traversing. It was less filled than yesterday; however, you could still spot an array of supplies scattered around. For the first time you felt your stomach rumble and you longed to run across and raid it for some of the fruit that you could see. But it was far too out in the open to be worth the risk. So, you continued towards the fall.

The closer you came, the more you were left in awe by the design of its structure. The rocks became harder to climb over, but you realized that they went behind the pounding curtain of water, into a cave. You were apprehensive. It was such a brilliant hiding spot, but being so close to the cornucopia you felt like another tribute had to have found it by now. However, someone could only have seen it if they had chosen to come closer to the fall, rather than the cornucopia, which wasn’t necessarily an expected move.

You didn’t want to take any chances, and pulled your knife out from your pocket, just to be extra careful. Doing your best to balance, and stay hidden between the large rocks, you slowly made your way closer to the water’s edge. Once there you crouched down, repeatedly checking behind your back to make sure no one was trying to sneak up on you, and filled up your container. Once full, you put the cap on and then began to try and scrub off the lingering traces of blood that were staining your hands.

It was as you were finishing up that you spotted a moving figure through a crack between the rocks, in the direction of the woods. You sprung to your feet and quickly hid behind the closest rock. Making sure to check behind your shoulder first (in case anyone was trying to sneak up on you whilst you were distracted), you peered out from behind the boulder to see your worst fear – Hoseok and Namjoon working together.

You spun back around, your back hitting the rock, as you pressed yourself against surface. They definitely hadn’t seen you yet as they were moving towards the cornucopia and neither of them had been looking over in your area. You recalled the canon from before and instantly knew it had to be their work. Your heart was racing and a tightness was beginning to seize across your chest making it harder to breathe. You wished you could somehow melt into the rock and hide inside until these games were over, but you knew it wasn’t a realistic option. Staying outside here would be far too risky with them so close by. The forest wasn’t safe as they would very likely see you if you tried to run back now. Your best option was the cave behind the fall, as it was surrounded with large rocks for cover, and neither of them seemed to know of its existence. The possibility of another tribute being inside no longer scared you when the two worst tributes in the arena were so close by.

Using the rocks as a shield, you scrambled the last remaining meters to the fall. Once safe behind the curtain of raging water you stood in awe of the size of the cave within. The boulders from outside seemed to morph into smoother steps that lead upwards and further inside the cliff structure. There was still no sign of any other life inside, but you kept a firm grip on your knife in case of any hidden attacks. The higher you climbed, the drier the rock below your boots became. With the waterfall keeping you hidden from the outside, you deliberately allowed your footsteps to echo throughout the cave in order to alert anyone inside. You weren’t here to fight.

When you reached the top of the rock steps you found a smooth plateau and the first sign of life. There was a makeshift camp of a few supplies – a sleeping bag, a pot, and flint – set up around the ashes of an extinguished fire. The coals still had a faint tinge of orange, so someone still had to be close by.

“Hello… Is anyone here?”

You called out, but were only met with the sound of your voice bouncing back off the walls.

The sleeping bag looked like it had some sort of shape underneath it, so you slowly walked over, wondering if anyone was still inside. You didn’t want to come off as threatening, but you also weren’t stupid enough to approach someone without a weapon, so you hid your knife behind your back.

“I’m [Y/N] from Four, I ran away from the careers. Two and Four are at the cornucopia now.”

The closer you moved towards the bag, the darker the cave became, but you could still faintly make out some sort of shape. You frowned, why wasn’t the person responding to you?

“Please, I’m just want to hide,” you lowered your voice as you reached the bag.

“I promise I don’t want to hurt you.”

You tapped at the bag with your foot but were met with a hard feeling beneath your toe.

Rocks?

 A trap

 Leaping away from the sleeping bag, you narrowly dodged the swing of a machete from a figure hiding in the shadows by less than an inch.

“But I want to hurt you”

The voice of your attacker was feminine, but you had no idea who the person is.

“Are you fucking crazy, I’m trying to offer you an alliance against the careers,” you swore as you shuffled backwards, trying to put some distance between yourself and your opponent.

“No thanks. I had one until your boyfriend killed him…” The girl continued to follow you, and as she steps further into the light, you recognize her from District 7

“…And I’d like to return the favor.”

She swung the machete again, and you narrowly ducked with a shriek, rolling towards the edge of the plateau. You just managed to catch yourself from rolling off the edge, but before you could get to your feet, Seven charged at you with another swing of her blade.

You brought your knife up to block it, which she clearly didn’t expect. She’s too stunned by the fact you stopped her attack to block your leg that kicked up and into her stomach. She hunched over and gasped, barely keeping her grip on her weapon after having the wind knocked out of her. You didn’t give her the opportunity to catch her breath. There was no time for guilt or doubt as you thrust your knife upwards. It sunk in between her ribs with a broken scream, causing her to finally release her grip on the machete. It clattered to the ground beside you as you pulled your knife out.

She was still alive, her hands pressing against the bleeding wound as she stood above you. The previous sight of your would-be-killer is gone, replaced by a scared girl who knows she’s going to die. You can’t exactly blame her for trying to kill you – after all your alliance tortured her district member – but there’s no point in feeling sorry for her now. The best you could do is give her a faster death than her partner. Getting to your feet, you stabbed her again, this time in the stomach. She made a strangled gurgle, coughing up blood as you ripped your knife back out. She moved to try and grab for the machete, but stumbled over her feet and instead slipped off the edge of the plateau.

You looked over the side with morbid curiosity, to see her body had landed amongst the rocky water at the bottom. The pool below is a violent mess of currents created from the waterfall and you watched as her body was quickly pulled under to the sound of a canon.

 *

 “I’m almost disappointed by how easy this has been,” Namjoon commented as he picked up a small sack of rice and tossed it into the water. Since disposing of Krystal, the duo hadn’t so much as seen a trace from another tribute on their way to the cornucopia. They had arrived with ease and quickly finished stocking both their backpacks with food items. It was when they discovered there would still be plenty left for other tributes that Hoseok had come up with the idea of throwing whatever they couldn’t take with them into the river.

“If only [Y/N] was that easy to find,” Hoseok muttered in response. Between tossing away any food he came across, he was also searching for more arrows.

“Nothing good is ever easy, she can’t hide forever.”

*boom* 

The noise of a canon stopped them both in their place, it had sounded very close by. Namjoon looked around in a circle to see if there was any sign of an airship, whilst Hoseok suspiciously eyed the waterfall. The canon had definitely come from that direction. It was too high to see their camp up the top, but in his mind the noise had sounded closer. For a few minutes there was an uneasy silence, until he spotted something in the water.

“Over there”

Hoseok tapped Namjoon on the arm and pointed towards a figure that was emerging from the raging waters. Forgetting about throwing away food, the two moved towards the edge of the cornucopia’s rock to try and see the body. The water near the fall was a violent mess of waves, before it smoothed out into an eerily placid pool by the cornucopia rock’s edge. They watched as the body was tossed around, pulled underneath the currents, until it eventually drifted further way from the fall and resurfaced closer in their direction.

“It’s a girl,” Namjoon commented as they watched the body float closer.

It was difficult to see any details, but they could both tell the body was too big to be one of the younger tributes. There were no male tributes with hair long enough to tie into a ponytail, which gave away the fact it was a girl. With Athena having short hair, Krystal being killed earlier, and four known female tributes having died yesterday, they both mentally ran through which older females were still left in the games.

“You don’t think it could be…”

“No.”

They were both thinking the same thing, but there was no way Hoseok would allow Namjoon to say your name out loud.

It wasn’t you; it couldn’t be you. There was no way that you could have been taken from Hoseok without him feeling it inside. You were tied together and the second you left this world he would be able to feel it like a tether had snapped, right? He had no idea what he would do if you died before he was able to reach you in these games. It was a given that he would kill whoever was responsible in the most excruciating manner possible, but afterwards? Probably a rage induced rampage until he was the only person left, before killing himself. If you weren’t together with him at the end, then no one could win.

Hoseok followed the body along the rock as it drifted, until it was close enough for him to be able to reach. He could hear the sound of an approaching airship, but he had to see who it was with his own eyes first. Leaning over, he grabbed the body by its jacket and pulled it close enough for him to flip over. His sigh of relief upon seeing some insignificant nobody was audible.

“Not her,” he called to Namjoon, who had followed behind him.

“Stab wounds…” Namjoon acknowledged, nodding at the two bleeding cuts in the body. A solid incision between the ribs and a deeper wound in the stomach.

“From someone who knows how to handle a knife…"

Hoseok’s words trailed off at the end as he recalled your training in the arena. Particularly, your skill with throwing knives. The boys looked at each other, both knowing what the other was thinking. You were very close by. Looking at the waterfall where the body had appeared, there was nothing to suggest that you were around. If it weren’t for the fact that you were trying to stay away from him, Hoseok would have been proud that his girl was so good at keeping herself hidden.

“Look over there”

Hoseok’s head snapped over to the direction Namjoon was pointing at, but couldn’t see anything.

“What am I looking for?”

“The rocks. I didn’t notice before, but look how they trail behind the waterfall. I think there’s something back there… more importantly, someone.”

In an instant Hoseok was at his feet, the body below him forgotten about entirely. His bow and quiver of arrows were already on his shoulder.

“Leave the supplies here, we can come back for them when we have YN,” Hoseok instructed as he walked over to pick up some rope from the cornucopia. He doesn’t want to have to restrain you, but given you ran away it’s not like you’ve left him much choice.

Eying the rope in Hoseok’s hands and the knife in his own, a dangerous smile flashed across Namjoon’s face.

“Let’s go get our girl.”

 *

 The guilt you were wondering why you didn’t feel earlier, seemed to crash down upon you all at once. With a horrified gasp you, were hyperventilating over the reality you had now killed two people in one day. You didn’t want to, you didn’t mean to, you knew that you had to otherwise it would have been you that was dead. But it didn’t make the reality any less awful. You wondered what your father would be thinking if he was watching. He had been the one to train you with a knife in case that your name was ever called, but could he handle the reality of actually seeing you kill other kids? What about your mother? She was already dead, what if she was waiting for you to join her in peace, but you were sending other children to her instead?

You felt sick, but there wasn’t any food in your system to throw up. Instead, all you could do was dry reach and cough as you backed away from the ledge of the plateau. Maybe you should throw yourself over into the rocks to drown. You didn’t deserve to live as a killer. But then wouldn’t that make those deaths meaningless? And as selfish as it sounded, you didn’t want to die a painful death. You were scared. Scared to die, scared to suffer, scared to survive and have to live with yourself if you made it.

You crawled backwards until you felt your hand touch something soft. You flinched in surprise, looking down to see the sleeping bag from seven’s camp. It felt wrong to even consider, but you couldn’t help but think it would be a nice spot to hide out for a while. There was shelter and more importantly, warmth. You weren't exactly in the mood to return to the woods again and have to climb another tree. You shrugged your backpack off your shoulders and tried to distract your racing thoughts with the task of pulling the rocks out of the sleeping bag that seven had stuffed inside.

As you worked, you could hear the sound of rocks crunching. At first you thought it was just the sounds of the ones inside the bag as you moved them, but then you paused, and you could still hear the noise. It was hard to hear anything over the sound of the waterfall, but you had a bad feeling. You fumbled for your backpack and began to slide further backwards into the darkness of the cave.

“[Y/N]”

You feel as if your blood has turned to ice at the sound of Hoseok calling your name. How the hell could he possibly know that you were here?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…

You shuffled backwards until you hit a rock. You couldn’t see anything in the darkness around you, and you could only pray that darkness would keep you hidden from him. You curled your knees into your chest and tried to shrink yourself as small as possible, clutching onto your knife, which would be your only hope of escape if he found you up here.

“Son of a bitch!”

You flinched at the sound of Namjoon’s cursing, and felt yourself panicking. Hoseok on his own was bad enough but Namjoon with him was too much. You doubted you could take one of them in a fight, but you knew that both of them would be impossible. You didn’t know what Hoseok’s plans with you were, but you swore you would rather die on your own than find out. You might not be able to fight them both, but you still had your knife, maybe you could take yourself out on your own terms.

“What?” Hoseok barked, his voice getting closer as he began to climb the rock steps.

“Some little shit is stealing our bag.”

That caused him to pause. Whilst the careers did have some basic supplies back at their camp, because they had thrown away a lot of the other food at the cornucopia, they needed those bags.

“Go stop the prick then, I’ll meet you out there with [Y/N].”

Namjoon nodded with a pissed off frown, turning around and heading back out of the fall the same way that he came. He hated when his plans were interrupted and he was going to make whatever moron thought they could steal from him pay.

You had no idea what bags they were talking about, but felt a sliver a of relief over Namjoon leaving. At least you had a fighting chance now if Hoseok found you. You could hear the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps coming closer, as he continued to climb.

“[Y/N]~” Hoseok’s voice echoed throughout the cave as he sung out your name in a sickeningly sweet call.

“Why are you hiding from me, angel? You should know that I would never hurt you.”

His steps continued to get closer and you clasped one hand over your nose and mouth to try and muffle the sound of your breathing. You tried to breathe as slowly and quietly as humanly possible.

“If it’s over how I tortured that boy from seven, I only did that because he tried to hurt you. But if you want, I’ll make all my other kills quick and painless. I’d do anything for you.”

The sound of his footsteps reaching the plateau kept you paralyzed in fear. He was here, there was no escape anymore. You clenched your eyes shut and prayed that the darkness could keep you covered.

Hoseok’s brows furrowed as he reached the top level and saw the abandoned camp. There were visible signs of a struggle from the earlier fight, but he couldn’t see anything else. The sleeping bag was barely visible in the darkness, but he could vaguely tell there were rocks nearby and some still inside of the bag. So that dead girl had tried to set a trap, but you were too clever. Again, he felt a combination of pride and frustration. If only you weren’t so afraid of him, you would be unstoppable together.

If his vision was to go by, you weren’t here. There weren’t any rocks to hide behind and it was possible you could have run in the opposite direction than where Namjoon and himself had approached from. But why did you feel so close? He narrowed his eyes and tried to squint further into the darkness, how deep did that cave go? Could you possibly be hiding in plain sight?

He pursed his lips, preparing to walk closer before the sound of a canon stopped him in his tracks.

 *

 Yoongi was in a bad mood.

After his argument with Krystal, he had been left alone to fish up the stream, but he had a lingering sense of unease. Why didn’t she understand that he was only looking out for her best interest? He didn’t sign up for these games to protect her just to watch her get killed for some stranger. It’s not that he hated you, or wanted you to die. He felt sorry for you and the way that Hoseok had singled you out, but it was better you than Krystal.

His luck with fishing had been mediocre. He had been apprehensive to use their food supplies for bait in case there weren’t actually any fish in the river. On the plus side it turned out there were indeed fish, but on the negative, the ones he had managed to catch were tiny. He lost track of how long he had been fishing for, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his face after such a freezing night, when he was snapped out of his peace by the sound of a canon.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t put his instincts into words, it didn’t make any logical sense, but he had a very, very bad feeling. It was like a part of him had collapsed inside of his chest.

‘Where’s Krystal?’

Surely, she would be back at camp, just like she was supposed to be?

He tried to shake off the feeling, canons were a normal part of the games, if Krystal was smart then she would still be with Athena. On her own Krystal was a formidable opponent, and Athena was a powerhouse. The only real threat that could take those two were the other careers, but they were all back down the cliff. She should be fine… so why didn’t it feel like she was?

With a huff, Yoongi wheeled in his wire and tossed the coil into the bucket. He would try fishing again later, using the smaller fish as bait. But first he had to go and find Krystal to put his mind at ease. He dipped the bucket into the river to fill it up with a little water, in order to keep the bait fresh in the meantime, then began his walk back to the campsite.

When he rounded the corner of the river that led to the waterfall, he felt his stomach drop upon seeing Athena alone at the campsite.

“Athena! Where’s Krystal” He yelled.

Her head jerked up from picking through a pile of different sticks, organizing them into different firewood. She seemed surprised, but Yoongi just thought that was from how loudly he had yelled at her.

“YOONGI, LOOK OUT!” Athena screamed back at him.

‘Look out for what? We need to look for Krystal?’

But his confused thought was interrupt by a searing pain running through his thigh. Gasping in agony, he was in so much pain he couldn’t even scream. Looking down he saw the long blade of a machete protruding out of his leg. Before Yoongi could even react, he was struck across the back of the head, whilst someone else landed a kick to his speared leg. Disorientated from the pain, the two attackers were easily able to manhandle him face down into the river.

Athena leapt up to help, but was met with a rope being wrapped around her neck from behind. The pressure instantly cut off her air, causing her to choke as she desperately clawed for the rope. But whoever had attacked her had miscalculated their strength. Once she was able to get a grip on the rope around her neck, Athena didn’t waste time trying to pull it away. Instead, she used her hold for leverage and rolled her body forward, causing the girl behind her to come flying over her shoulder.

Laying sprawled out on her back District 8 realized she had made a terrible mistake, but it was too late for her. Athena snatched a nearby spear from the weapons pile and drove it straight down into the girl’s stomach. After ripping the point out, Athena kicked her sharply in the side, sending her rolling into the rushing waters. Whether it was from the stab wound, drowning, or falling onto the rocks below, all Athena cared about was the sound of the canon that followed.

Spear in hand, she raced up the bank to save Yoongi.

One down, two to go.

 *

 Hoseok was quick to dismiss the sound of the canon as Namjoon taking care of the boy trying to steal from them, but his head turning towards the direction he thought the sound came from caused him to see a falling silhouette through the waterfall.

“What the fuck?”

He didn’t care for his allies atop the waterfall, but the odds for his plans in the games were better if they could stay alive until the outlier tributes were taken care of. He cast a quick scan around the cave for any sign that you were there, but seeing nothing he huffed and started climbing back down.

You couldn’t believe your luck.

After everything that had gone wrong so far in the arena, the moment you were seconds away from being found by your worst nightmare, something managed to distract him.

You should have felt guilty that the distraction came in the form of another person dying, but you were to high strung to properly register that. Listening to the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps, you waited until he was at the bottom of the steps before slowly moving forwards. Not wanting to risk being seen or heard, you slowly crawled your way to the edge to see Hoseok disappearing back out the side of the waterfall that he had come in from.

There was no way you were going to remain in the same place and risk being caught if he came back. Making sure your backpack was still secure, you climbed your way back down the same steps. But when you reached the bottom, you hurried along the rocks under the fall in the opposite direction that Hoseok had left.

 *

 Namjoon and the boy from 10 on the cornucopia had been trapped in a stalemate ever since Namjoon had returned from the waterfall. The boy had been distracted with filling up a bag as quickly as possible that he initially didn’t notice Namjoon sneaking up on him, but a movement in his peripheral version alerted him to the career’s presence. His head snapped up, as he saw him coming back to the cornucopia. Namjoon held the boy’s eyes with a dangerous stare that screamed one thing; ‘you’re dead, kid’.

There were barely any supplies left, the rock was sparse and the last remaining good items were now in the bag slung over his shoulder. Clearly Namjoon had to want what was in the bag if he was coming back for it.

“Don’t come any closer, or I’ll drop it!”

The break in his voice severely reduced the impact of his words, but the boy dangled the bag over the side of the water to show that he was serious.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, clearly not taking the threat seriously as he continued to walk, forwards, only to stop when the boy released the bag entirely. The boy caught the bag by the handle, but held it back up over the side of the edge once more.

‘So, he’s quick,’ Namjoon internally assessed as he held up his hands in a mock surrender.

“You have something of mine that I want back,” Namjoon nodded to the bag.

“If it was yours you would have taken it with you,” the kid snapped back.

“Everything in this arena is mine, including your life. Drop the bag on the rock and your death won’t be a painful one,” Namjoon threatened as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to showcase his muscular triceps that were probably three times the width of the scrawny teenage boy’s.

“Come any closer and your bag will be thrown to the bottom of your river”

Namjoon longed to rush the boy and slam his head against the rock to teach him some respect, but the bag of supplies kept him rooted to the spot. Meanwhile the boy was tossing up his options. The boy from 10 knew that he was fast, but the weight of the bag would slow him down, and it was possible Namjoon could catch him. But if he dropped the bag his odds of outrunning him into the forest were much higher. But the boy wanted the bag just as much as the careers did. He hadn’t eaten since the start of the games. He had scarfed down a protein bar whilst cramming supplies into the bag, but he didn’t think he was going to last long in the forest without anything.

And so, the two stood eyeing each other down, neither willing to cut the loss of the bag, not even a body flying over the edge of the waterfall to the sound of a canon could distract them. However, Namjoon could still see Hoseok resurfacing out the side of the fall.

Hoseok could be brash but he wasn’t an idiot. Seeing the boy holding the bag over the water and Namjoon with his hands up, he could tell that there was some sort of bargain happening. With the boy’s arm over the water, it wasn’t like he could just shoot him with an arrow, without the bag falling in. Being within Namjoon’s line of sight, and with the boy having his back to him, Hoseok sent Namjoon a signal to let him know he would approach quietly.

Keeping his hands raised, Namjoon began to walk around the boy. He maintained the same distance, moving clockwise around the rock with lazy steps.

“You’re not getting off this rock with that bag,” he taunted as he walked, deliberately keeping the boy’s attention away from Hoseok, who was moving closer towards their direction.

“As a matter of fact, you won’t be getting off this rock alive at all”

“Then there wouldn’t be much sense in me keeping a hold of this bag then,” ten sneered.

“The second you drop the bag, is the second you die and you know it,” Namjoon replied coolly as he continued to pace.

“Not unless I make a trade”

Namjoon barked out a laugh.

“For you to make a trade you would need to have something I want. The only thing I want is that bag.”

“Oh really?” Ten asked with a knowing grin starting to crawl across his face.

Namjoon rolled his eyes at the audacity of the kid to think he could possibly strike a bargain, but he had to admit it was somewhat amusing.

“And what else could you possibly have?”

“I saw you and two earlier, I know you’re looking for your district partner. I also saw where she went”

There was a hint of glee in ten’s voice, like he was aware of a hilarious inside joke and Namjoon didn’t like it one bit.

“Bullshit,” he called.

At this reaction, ten outright giggled.

“I know you were tracking her, and that you killed that other career. But I also saw where she was going, and you were both so close.”

“And what makes you think that I believe you?”

Whether Namjoon believed him or not, having the boy keep talking was an excellent way to stall for time as Hoseok continued to get closer. With Namjoon now on the other side of the rock, it was only a matter of time before they had the kid trapped between them.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?”

Namjoon let out an exasperated sigh.

“No shit, we’ve all seen her at training and the interviews. Hardly proves you saw her today.”

Ten fumbled the bag slightly, his arm starting to burn with lactic acid from holding it over the water for so long. Bringing it down to the ground, he placed a foot on top, easily able to kick it into the river if he wanted. It was in the process of doing this that he caught sight of Hoseok approaching from his peripheral vision.

“Tell him to stop right now, or I kick the bag,” he immediately threatened.

“Hoseok!” Namjoon yelled, before making a cutting gesture across his throat, to get him to pause.

Hoseok reluctantly listened, coming to a stop just slightly further away from the boy than where Namjoon was on the other side of the cornucopia.

“So now what? I drop the bag and I die, or I give you the bag and I die” Ten deadpanned as he looked between the careers on either side of him, not exactly liking his options.

“Sounds about right to me,” Hoseok grinned, sliding the bow off his shoulder and preparing to load an arrow from his quiver.

“If you shoot me now then I can’t tell you where your girl is.”

Hoseok paused his hand right as it touched upon an arrow.

“Where is she,” he demanded.

Namjoon mentally slammed his palm against his forehead, of course Hoseok would be too blinded by his obsession with you, and buy into this bargain.

“I’m not just going to tell you so you can kill me. Look I can see there’s no situation here where I leave alive with the bag, so I’ll drop it. Here,” Ten paused to toss the bag a few feet in front of himself.

“Walk towards me and let me walk past you” Ten gestured towards Hoseok “and I’ll tell you where she is.”

Hoseok nodded curtly whilst Namjoon just rolled his eyes. He thought Hoseok was a lovesick fool, but was satisfied with the fact they at least had the bag back again.

The walk across the rocks began, ten deliberately tried to walk in a path that would create a gap in width between his body and Hoseok’s when they met. Hoseok read this and navigated himself in a way to lessen that distance, in case Ten tried to run without giving him the information that he wanted.

Meanwhile Namjoon walked towards the direction of the bag to retrieve it, but spotted something from the corner of his eye. There was some sort of shape in the rocks near the waterfall. He knew he should probably be paying attention in case Ten thought it was a good idea to jump his teammate, but Hoseok was strong enough to take care of himself, and this weird shape was bothering him. It was hard to see over the mist that sprayed up from the crashing impact, and when he squinted his eyes to look, it was like it was never there at all. For a moment he dismissed it as a bird until it moved again. A blur ducking up and then disappearing behind the closest rock. And then suddenly it clicked – why Ten had been laughing when talking about how close they apparently were to you before. The boy had seen you…

“HOSEOK!” He bellowed right before the two boys were about to pass each other “SHE WAS INSIDE THE CAVE. SHE’S MAKING A BREAK OUT THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FALL”

 *

 Whatever luck you had acquired for Hoseok to leave inside the cave, seemed to have vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. You couldn’t hear the words that Namjoon had yelled over the rumbling noise of water crashing nearby, but you could see him pointing in your direction.

For a split second you all froze. You were caught like a deer in headlights, Namjoon was pointing at you, Hoseok looked livid and the boy from ten was scared to death. There was barely any distance between Ten and Hoseok. They were less than six feet apart, with Hoseok blocking the way to the forest, and Ten had just lost his only bargaining chip seconds away from managing to escape. With no weapon on his body, and no way to get around the armed career in front of him, he made a split-second decision to turn back around. If he was going to die, then he wasn’t going to let those careers get that bag, He’d kick it into the river if it was the last thing he did.

Immediately, chaos erupted.

You took off into a sprint across the rocks. You no longer had to worry about remaining hidden and put all your focus on speed. There was no point in prioritizing your safety on the dangerous surface either – it was either get away, or die. You’d risk slipping and breaking your neck than winding up caught between Hoseok and Namjoon any day. Using every ounce of instinct built from years living on the coast, climbing your boat, and scaling rocks near the sea, you made a break for the forest.

Being the closest, Namjoon would have pursued you, if wasn’t for ten turning around. Reading his move for the bag Namjoon had to race him for it, which was in the opposite direction that you were running. Hoseok and ten were both the same speed, so it was down to him being closer to save their supplies.

“No! Get her! GET HER!” Hoseok yelled to Namjoon as he watched you slipping through his fingers, whilst you ran closer to the forest’s edge.

But Namjoon ignored the demand, leaping onto the bag just seconds before Ten’s foot could make contact with a kick. Instead, Namjoon took the hit to his side and rolled, causing ten to go flying over the top of him.

Ten landed with a sickening crunch. He had thrown his arms out to break the fall, only to break his wrist on impact with the rock. Despite the agony, he used the momentum to keep rolling and fell off the side, into the water below. Namjoon sat up with a grunt, with his water experience, swimming the boy down wouldn’t be a problem, except Hoseok was about to beat him to it.

With his bow loaded, Hoseok shot an arrow straight into the shoulder of ten. The boy let out a muffled scream as he fell underneath the surface, no longer able to swim. With ten no longer a threat, Hoseok looked up to try and find where you were, to see you were right at the border between the rocks and the forest edge.

You had made it to the trees and stopped to look behind to see if you were being chased, when you witnessed Hoseok shoot the boy from ten. You thought that would be it, that he would be left to drown now that he could no longer swim, or that Hoseok would fire a second arrow to be certain. Instead, you found yourself rooted to the spot as Namjoon reached into the water and pulled ten back up to the surface by the arrow stuck inside of his body. As Namjoon continued to drag a screaming ten out of the water, and back up onto the cornucopia rock, Hoseok stood at his side, pointedly staring at you.

Your eyes were locked onto his, trying to read what he was going to do next. You leaned against the closest tree as you tried to suck in deep breaths. Your lungs burned from sprinting over the rocks, but you had to be ready to run again into the forest at any moment. In return Hoseok was eerily still. He watched the rise and fall of your chest with every breath you took, studied the flush of red across your cheeks and beads of sweat trickling from your forehead, and thought of the ways in which he would love to elicit such a response from your body. He ached to run and take you into his arms so he could feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, but knew that you would disappear into the forest the second he tried to. So, instead he chose to drag those seconds out as long as possible, just watching you breathe from a distance to find comfort in knowing you were still alive.

  *

 The sound of the canon had distracted the two boys that were holding Yoongi under the water. Turning their heads over towards the sound they were hoping to see Athena dead and the other girl from eight returning to help them take care of the last person at camp, but were met with the sight of an enraged Athena running in their direction.

“Shit! What the fuck do we do?” The boy from district 8 hissed, as he maintained his pressure on Yoongi’s neck to keep him face down under the water.

“How the fuck should I know?” the boy from district 9 snapped back, “You’re the genius who said your partner could take care of her”

“I thought she could! How hard is it to sneak up and kill someone from behind?”

“Too hard apparently”

“WATCH OUT!”

The two boys’ bickering was cut short by eight shoving nine to the side and narrowly avoiding the spear that Athena had thrown.

“That was clos-”

Eight’s sigh of relief was cut short by a second spear landing in his throat.

Nine released a horrified scream at the gruesome vision. The canon hadn’t sounded yet as eight was barely clinging to life, choking out gargled breaths as blood spilled profusely down his neck and into the water below. Nine was so preoccupied by the sight that he didn’t even notice that Yoongi had surfaced from the water. With an agonized grunt, Yoongi pulled the blade of the machete out of his leg and swung it straight into the kid’s head.

Two canons sounded one after the other as the boys died simultaneously.

With the surge of adrenaline fading as quickly as it had appeared, Yoongi collapsed on the shore, vomiting up the water he had been forced to swallow whilst being held under. His injured leg was throbbing, he had a splitting headache and his chest felt like someone had been sitting on it. He was barely conscious when Athena caught up to him and dragged him further out of the water, to make sure he didn’t get caught in the stream and sent over the waterfall.

Pulling her button up shirt from her body (leaving just a tank top underneath), Athena set to work on creating a makeshift tourniquet by tying the sleeves tightly above the wound.

“You know, I could easily just kill you now,” Athena mused.

Yoongi’s response was a laugh in the form of a sharp huff. It was true, he was defenseless. The machete had been lodged into nine’s skull and taken away with his body. He now had no weapon and a major injury in his leg, whilst Athena was a skilled hand to hand combat fighter. She could also easily run back to the weapons at their camp before he could even struggle to his feet.

“So why don’t you?” he grunted, closing his eyes and letting his head fall onto the ground below.

Yoongi knew his shot at the games was practically over with such a severe injury. His bad feeling over Krystal was only made worse by the surprise attack from the three tributes. What if they had killed her when she went off to have a bathroom break earlier? She hadn’t been seen in hours and there were far too many canons that had sounded today. If Krystal was dead then there was no purpose for him to be here anymore, though he hoped to at least wait to see the tribute display in the evening and confirm Krystal was gone before entirely giving up.

“Hoseok and Namjoon,” Athena sighed in response.

Though his eyes were closed, Yoongi raised an eyebrow, indicating for her to elaborate.

“What do you think those two would think if they came back and saw you dead in camp and your sister missing too? They’d probably act like I did it and kill me on the spot for betraying the alliance.”

“That sucks,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Yeah, it does,” Athena laughed. Nothing about the situation was actually funny, but it was such a surreal experience it was all she could do.

“But you know what else sucks?” She continued, earning a questioning grunt from Yoongi.

“That this wouldn’t have even happened if Hoseok and Namjoon didn’t go off on their stupid search for YN. The weird obsession with her, it’s literally insane.”

“I don’t get it either,” Yoongi sighed.

“I’m sick of it. They left us here to die, maybe Krystal already has…”

Yoongi flinched.

“Sorry. But for what? A stupid crush they’re going to have to kill in the end anyway. I didn’t get my name pulled out of that bowl just so I could die as a side character in some weird love story.”

“So, what are you going to do about it? Jump them when they come back to camp?”

Athena scoffed at the suggestion.

“Tempting but I think we both know they’re stronger than I am. I might take down one of them with me but I couldn’t get both. And it’s not like you’d be much help there either.”

“I offer you my complete moral support” Yoongi deadpanned.

Athena barked out another laugh.

“I’ve got nothing,” she sighed. “Maybe we have that in common, and maybe we should at least watch each other’s backs.”

Yoongi opened his eyes and looked up to see Athena staring down at him.

The pain of potentially losing Krystal was still too raw for him to properly process, especially without any closure of knowing that it had really happened (though every instinct in his gut told him she was gone). But he had been so focused on his goal of protecting his sister he hadn’t given much thought to any of his other teammates.

Athena looked tough and intimidating, she scored high in trials and interviewed well. By all standards she was just another typical career, but the reality was she was also human. Yet another sacrifice to the capitol, just like his sister and just like himself. With Krystal, he had someone he loved with him, but Athena had no one. Her closest thing to a partner, in her district mate, had abandoned her for a prettier girl like a child distracted by a shinier new toy. If they were both doomed to die here, then the least he could do was make sure she wasn’t entirely alone.

“Yeah, I think we should”.

 *

 The sound of two back-to-back canons cut short whatever moment you were having with Hoseok. It was a slap across the face reminder that this was a game to kill until the last person standing, and the man standing across the rocks from you would ultimately have to try and kill you, no matter what sweet promises he made.

“YN wait, please!” you heard him beg as you broke eye contact, but you didn’t look back again as you turned and vanished into the forest.

“FUCK!” Hoseok screamed in frustration, launching a kick into the ten’s shoulder, the same one he had shot the arrow into. If he couldn’t have you now then he was going to make the little shit who ruined his plans pay.

Namjoon took a step back, and picked up the bag of supplies. He then walked over to a nearby rock and set the bag down in front of him, perfectly secured between his legs. Unzipping the top, he reached inside and dug out an apple, biting in as Hoseok ripped the arrow completely out of ten’s shoulder. Namjoon watched nonchalantly as Hoseok reloaded the arrow and shot it into ten’s other shoulder, the younger boy writhing in agony below.

The torture continued as Namjoon ate his snack. Hoseok would pull the arrow out of ten’s body by twisting it painfully, before reloading and shooting it again into another non-lethal area. His arms and legs were more like a bloody human pin cushion by the time Namjoon had finished a second apple and decided he was bored.

“We should get back to camp,” he declared, shouldering the bag.

Hoseok turned his attention to Namjoon with a raised brow.

“Those two canons earlier, and the one before that, we should check on Athena and Yoongi.”

Hoseok opened his mouth to argue before Namjoon cut him off.

“I don’t care about them either, however it would benefit us to know if they are still alive and who attacked them if they’re not. If there are other tributes working together, we need to take care of them before they go after YN next.”

Hoseok rolled his neck to stare up at the sky with an exhausted sigh. He knew Namjoon was right, and self-indulgent torture sessions weren’t going to get you back.

“Good,” Namjoon confirmed with a smile, before leaning down and snapping ten’s neck with his bare hands.

 Another canon.

 *

 It took slightly longer than an hour for Namjoon and Hoseok to climb the cliff and return to the campsite, where they were met with the sight of Athena wrapping a bandage around Yoongi’s thigh. The duo was informed the first aid kit was a gift from a sponsor and that the Yoongi and Athena were ambushed by three tributes, all now dead. When Yoongi asked if they had seen Krystal, Namjoon denied anything and asked if they heard any canons before they were attacked. Athena confirmed there had been, and Yoongi had broken down crying.

Hoseok left the other boy to grieve, knowing his sister was dead long before the nightly display confirmed it. Laying down in the tent, he longed to run into the forest and find you right at this second. However, he knew he needed to rest, and that tomorrow when he left camp, there was no way he would return without you. For now, he settled on mentally calculating how many people had to be left in the games. Krystal was gone leaving only himself, Namjoon, Athena and an injured Yoongi in the careers, and of course, there was still you. Eight tributes had died on opening day, two had died over the night, there were two earlier canons that morning, and with the short-lived alliance of three, the person you had killed, and the boy from ten, then that only left one other tribute who was still alive…

  *

 You sat high up in a tree, tied to a branch, as you heard the Panem music blast throughout the arena. Shivering under your blanket, you listened as the game maker praised the blood bath of the day, and commented that you were on track for the fastest games in history. When Krystal’s face appeared in the sky as the first tribute, you lost it. You bundled the top of the blanket into a ball and openly sobbed into the fabric, mourning the loss of the only person in the arena who you would have called a friend. You cried far longer than it took for the capitol to display all of the people who had died, and so you honestly had no idea who was left, or exactly how many people there even were now.

You knew Hoseok and Namjoon were still alive as only one more canon had sounded after you ran into the forest, and there was no doubt in your mind it was for the boy that had been shot with the arrow. You felt physically sick from crying; your sinuses were clogged and you had a nasty headache. You were also dizzy from not eating anything in hours and downright drained from how physically and emotionally taxing everything was. You had zero plan for survival in the arena, and no idea what you were going to do the next time Hoseok came close to finding you. In your exhausted state, you decided that would have to be a problem for tomorrow. Letting your head fall back against the trunk, you closed your eyes and quickly succumbed to your body’s need for rest.

Little did you know that someone very close by had been tracking you since earlier that afternoon, and was waiting for this exact moment.

  Note: Ten’s idea was to grab the bag and run, he didn’t stop to search what was inside, and obviously regretted the fact he didn’t check for a weapon when he had the chance

So close to 10K but I didn’t want to fill it with garbage for the sake of trying to boost the word count, so 9.5 it is.

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

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Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time. 

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night. 

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.” 

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him. 

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Language.” 

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.” 

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series. 

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it. 

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words. 

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked. 

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it. 

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.” 

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth. 

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable. 

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.” 

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room. 

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse. 

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm. 

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress. 

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely. 

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit. 

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide. 

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred. 

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm. 

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip. 

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul. 

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure. 

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack. 

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled. 

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock. 

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place. 

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic. 

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.” 

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary. 

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed. 

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.” 

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.” 

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud. 

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them. 

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed. 

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.” 

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[ya-ya-sestrahood]

6, echoes from elsewhere

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

Tough one! I know it seems like the sort of story with a million unwritten details, and it probably would be in the hands of a different writer, but any world-building I do is strictly in service of the plot and not much beyond that. If you take a peek behind the curtain, you'll find a lot of empty space.

But hey, for you, I'll come up with some bonus facts now, one for each chapter. Not a huge fan of the retcon, so feel free to pick and choose which are canon. Spoilers follow.

1. When Helena takes Alison's hand to show her a past memory, she chooses one they both share: the night they met at Felix's apartment.

2. In timeline A, Sarah, Beth and MK were a near-unstoppable DYAD-fighting team and they grew close. MK was very fond of Kira.

3. 4KR919's real name is Petra.

4. It's a trap! There are hidden cameras watching Sarah throughout this chapter. Beth's mattress gun was planted just a few minutes earlier. It is, of course, not loaded.

5. Alison and Krystal started a two-person book club in their cells. Their taste in literature is surprisingly similar.

6. Sarah was Cosima's best man at her wedding. Sarah didn’t expect or want to cry during her speech, but she did.

7. The knowledge that Helena's other self put all her faith in Helena makes Helena question herself and whether she’s really any different from Tomas. Despite how it makes her feel, she decides to carry her other self in her heart. When she is first allowed a quiet moment alone, she mourns.

8. After the Ledas leave the apartment, Delphine with nothing else to do, looks through not-Beth’s notepad. The handwriting strikes her as oddly familiar, and soon, a terrible thought creeps into her mind. Shortly after, Rachel’s men burst through the door.

9. MK has only lost to Beth once at Scrabble (she drew 99% vowels). When she saw the look on Beth’s face as she won, MK wished they could live like this forever.

10. After everything goes down, MK becomes Krystal’s new cell neighbor. I have nothing more to say on this topic.

11. One Christmas Eve, Eloise managed to convince her mother to sit down for a Christmas movie marathon. Partly due to the holiday spirit and partly due to the rum she was allowed to add to her eggnog (her mother found the stuff revolting), she found her mother’s dry commentary to be the funniest thing in the world. It remains one of her most treasured memories.

12. In the nine years since she escaped the DYAD facility, Alison never stayed in one place long enough to put down roots. She managed a living working from the back of several small businesses, out of sight from the public, and was always popular among her co-workers. Much of her income went toward a series of private investigators, hoping to track down her family.

13. Sarah’s lullaby to Helena is one their mother used to sing to them, somewhere in a happier timeline.

14. Sarah finds a timeline in the infinite web where Jennifer Fitzsimmons, fully cured, has become a part of their family. Her heart is huge, and she’s fiercely loyal to her sisters, ready to drop everything and help when things are tough. In many ways, she’s the glue that holds them together. When Sarah breaks free, she feels a part of her has been lost.

15. There’s a strong part of Alison that doesn’t want to go back. When she finally finds Helena, she feels a huge weight lift from her shoulders. She finally found her family. Someone who knows who she really is, someone who knows the burden she’s carried all these years. And now that DYAD has stopped looking for them, they wouldn’t have to hide anymore. She feels that, in time, they could start to live again.

16. Remaining in Timeline F, Beth and unlikely ally Krystal work with a reluctant Rachel to free the other imprisoned Ledas and help rebuild their lives.

17. After Rachel’s parents were declared dead, her new sister became her life raft. When she cried, Veera was the only one there to hold her. She doesn’t cry anymore, but when she starts to feel the urge, she remembers the weight of her sister’s arms around her and she’s calm again.

[poohkeepsee]

I was going through my AO3 bookmarks, and I wanted to organize them a little bit. These are my Dean/Cas canon-ish fic recs.

season 5

canticles  by  2street2car Words: 10,311     Chapters: 1

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

FTBYAM MY BELOVED

post season 6

Someone Who's Feeling For Me  by  ellispark  Words: 45,876     Chapters: 1

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

post bunker

Sun Can't Set Until Nine  by  LeverDrift Words: 67,939     Chapters: 16

Cas moves into the bunker as his powers start to fail. Dean doesn’t know if the arrangement is as permanent as he wants it to be. He's also not sure why he keeps dreaming about his friend. All he knows is that he wants Cas to stay. Overall warnings: canon-typical miscommunication & Dean having self-hatred issues.

Life Skills  by  ilovehowyouletmefall           Words: 26,052     Chapters: 3

After Metatron steals Castiel's grace, and Cas comes to live in the bunker, Dean spends a lot of time with him, sharing all of his favourite things. Dean can't help it if sharing things with Cas just makes everything better. Besides, it's Dean's job as Cas' friend to introduce him to the joys of human life. To teach him how to be human.  And if one of the experiences they end up sharing is sex with women, well... that's just part of Dean's job as Cas' friend too, right? The desire is triangulated, the rituals are intricate.

Sam Stole My Boyfriend  by  sobsicles    Words: 8,445     Chapters: 1

“Dude, you’ve been staring at me a lot lately, like even enough that Sam noticed. More than usual. So, like, what’s up?” Dean pauses, purses his lips and reconsiders. “What did I do?”

Cas knows that would be a perfect time to confess to Dean what exactly happened and what he was thinking. Maybe, Dean had some insight into the situation or even some kind of comfort to offer. But, the longer that he sat there, he realized that he could not tell Dean absolutely anything. So instead, for the first time, Cas fumbled.

“Um,” Cas mutters and abruptly stands. “Freckles?”

Dean blinked up at him as Cas pivoted and left the room. There was only one remaining option he had and unfortunately, it involved Sam.

Aching in the Absence of You  by  sobsicles Words: 95,090     Chapters: 10

Brittle and battle-worn, Cas looks at him over coffee one morning and says, "I need to go," and Dean instantly knows that he's not coming back.

He's not really sure how he knows it, but he does. It settles into the pit of his stomach, curling hot and tight like something he instinctively wants to tear out with his bare hands. He takes a breath, and it gets stuck in his throat, hitching there. It hurts, hurts, hurts when he finally exhales.

"Yeah," Dean says, "of course you do," and he nods jerkily as he looks down at his phone. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't look up from the screen when Cas gets up and leaves the room. He doesn't finish his coffee, or move for a long time.

By nightfall, Cas is gone.

'Communication'  by  JustAnotherSamlicker Words: 11,656

The same story told from two perspectives.

Dean bought a house and he and Cas fix it up.

Is Dean moving out? Is Cas moving in?

Should they just talk to each other already? (Yes they should)

Build a Home  by  domesticadventures Words: 20,102

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them.

He doesn't

season 10

The Most Important Thing  by  NorthernSparrow Words: 94,462     Chapters: 14

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

season 12

Heroes for Ghosts  by  pantheon_of_discord Words: 42,922     Chapters: 7

Canon-divergent from 12.08

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

season 13

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees)  by  sobsicles   Words: 74,173     Chapters: 8

Dean keeps going back.

When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains.

He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would.

He likes to talk.

There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time.

Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.

Trial and Tribulations of Raising a Nephilim  by  Sickandtiredofyou Words: 14,910   Chapters: 6

Dean has far too much on his plate, losing his mom, his best friend and now being a single parent to a newborn nephilim.

In which Jack is an actual newborn instead of a teenager.

post season 13

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination)  by  sobsicles           Words:     108,427     Chapters:     4

Freedom is just one adjustment after the next.

Cas hums again. "I think you already have. It's been months since everything settled. All that's left to do is...get used to it, and perhaps—" His voice stalls out, uncharacteristically, and his gaze roams Dean's face with intensity. When he speaks next, his tone is a little raw. "Perhaps what one does with peace is...whatever they want."

"What if I don't even know what that is?" Dean grumbles, arching an eyebrow in challenge. "'Cause I know damn well you don't just mean good food and a good bed and time in Baby, not simple wants like that. You mean—ya know, the big things, the wants we didn't get to have before."

"Yes," Cas agrees. "If you're not sure, figure it out."

"Easier said than done."

Reasons to read this:

Dean reads a story that ends like despair and his reaction is FUCK THAT

Cas wears Dean's hoodie

Jack is a toddler

The Jack and Claire sibling energy we deserve

Eileen being awesome and pulling pranks with Dean while Sam thinks she's an angel

Sam knows

YOUR HONOR THEY'RE IN LOVE

First Date  by  aeli_kindara Words: 8,968    Chapters: 1

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

Also known as the Dean Winchester makes the first move fic.

season 14

Broken Road  by  thegeminisage Words:     109,629     Chapters:     7

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

post season 15

fools and pilgrims  by  lagaudiere Words: 31,904     Chapters: 2

Claire shows up at the bunker a day before Dean was planning to leave, with her hair cut short and a fresh tattoo on her left arm under a bandage. Chuck is dead, Jack has given up his godlike powers, and Cas is back from the Empty, which doesn't make it any easier for Dean to talk to him. Suddenly finding himself in a world without monsters, supernatural forces, or any need for hunters, Dean's solution is to go on a road trip. Claire tags along.

Dean-Claire mirror fic post Despair

what's missing is found (our souls can exhale now)  by  sobsicles Words: 27,403

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

canon(?) au  (Hunters and Men of Letters)

Dean Winchester's Secret (Angel) Boyfriend  by  reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent Words: 11,191     Chapters: 1

Dean Winchester isn't exactly a team player. So when he starts mentioning a new Hunting partner, Ellen and Jo Harvelle aren't sure whether they should be worried or relieved.

But they're starting to get the feeling there's something important Dean's not telling them about Cas...

Shot Through The Heart  by  peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim) Words: 11,191     Chapters: 1

Dean is a hunter.

Castiel is a Man of Letters.

And even though they have to work together on a regular basis, there is not much sympathy between them. Castiel thinks Dean too brash and reckless while Dean in return sees nothing more in the other man than a rude asshole with an obsessive love for books and a truly terrible fashion sense.

But fate clearly has a funny way of throwing those two together over and over again.

And somewhere along the way feelings change into something neither of them would have expected.

[free-pancakes]

Dreams and Nightmares

Summary: LeviHan Canon-Divergence fic

Hange barely survives the final fight against Eren, and is saved by inheriting the Beast Titan from Zeke Yeager in the end. However, the Scouts soon find that this would come with a heavy price--particularly at Levi's expense.

Chapter 8/? Chapter 7 Chapter 6 Chapter 5 Chapter 4 Chapter 3 Chapter 2 Chapter 1

crossposted to ao3 here: link

notes: sorry for such a late update. this also turned out much longer than expected. it's real fluffy though, and quite self-indulgent, but hope you all like it!

CHAPTER 8:

“Was he really that important to her?”

The words echoed in Zeke’s mind as he continued to watch the memory unfold before him.

Hange returned to the room with a steaming hot mug in her hand, and carefully handed it to Levi. She watched in anticipation as he took a quick sniff and sipped on the tea.

“Not bad,” he whispered. And at that, Hange’s face lit up, and it took all her might not to let out a loud “Yahoo!” in her excitement—she heard Levi was quite particular with his tea, and she was feeling absolutely ecstatic that he didn’t spit it right out.

Levi soon fell quiet, satisfied with the drink. Hange sat down at the desk right next to him, keeping him company as she scribbled away in one of her notebooks where she kept notes on her titan research, often speaking her thoughts out loud. While listening, Levi’s eyelids began to droop. To Zeke, he seemed... almost as though he was fighting sleep just to listen to her for a little longer.

The memory soon dissipated, Zeke finding himself standing in a new setting—a gigantic ballroom lay before him, the massive chandeliers glowing dimly above him, hundreds of people wearing ornate, traditional-looking suits and gowns. A sign by his side read, “Annual Sina Military Ball”.

Zeke walked around, trying to find Hange but instead found Levi standing alone, a small cloth bag in his hands.

“The previous commander?” Zeke said under his breath as Erwin and two others approached Levi, clearly teasing him.

“Guys, please. And Mike, shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just sayin, if she turns you down, you can join me. Open bar this year yknow?”

“Mike, stop stressing him out!” Nanaba replied, swatting Mike on the shoulder as he laughed.

Erwin stood behind Levi, grabbed him by the shoulders and gently pushed him into the crowd.

“Just go already, she’ll love it.”

As Levi walked into the crowd, the three huddled together.

“He’s hopeless isn’t he?” Nanaba sighed.

“Yup. Erwin and I will wait at the bar,” Mike answered.

Zeke walked behind Levi into the crowd of people, until he saw him hesitate before tapping the shoulder of someone in a long navy blue gown shimmering with gold. Big, beautiful brown curls turned to reveal... Hange?

Zeke’s jaw dropped—he barely even recognized her.

“Oh! Levi! Aw I’m sorry—“ She itched at the fabric on her side. “I wish they’d let me wear a suit or something to one of these things, all this traditional wear or whatever is too much, but I mean your suit doesn’t even look comfortable either! Man, I just—“

Hange paused as soon as she noticed the small cloth bag in Levi’s hands.

“Oh? What’s that! What do you got there?”

His heart was thumping so loud, he was sure Hange could hear it. He reached into the bag, to pull out a yellow hair clip—it was his mother’s.

Hange’s eyes grew wide and nearly sparkled in the low light, and she smiled as Levi pulled the strands of hair from her face, and held it up to the side of her head with the clip.

“Not bad,” Levi said under his breath, his heart almost stopping at how stunning she really was. Hange gave him a quick hug hiding the blush suddenly reaching her cheeks, and the hug sent Levi’s head spinning. She then reached out her hand—

“Levi, the orchestra’s playing my favorite! Let’s show them all what a proper slow dance looks like!”

Levi rolled his eyes, but took Hange’s hand, accompanying her to the dance floor.

Sand began to fall like a curtain in front of Zeke, wiping the scene away to the open sky, sun setting peacefully in the horizon above the water. The smell of salt tickled at his nose, and he stood ankle deep in ocean water. Young voices sounded from behind him.

“We probably should get going soon, right? The sun’s already setting.”

“Aw Jean, just let them have a moment. I haven’t seen them this happy in such a long time.”

“Sasha, Captain Levi never looks happy!”

“Connie shush! You can tell he’s happy underneath! Come on, just look!”

Hange and Levi stood knee deep in the water, and Hange held up a small, cream-colored conch shell. Levi’s face scrunched up in disgust as she held it towards him, but she pulled him close by the shoulder while trying to reassure him, and held up the shell next to his ear. Zeke waded in a bit closer to hear what they were saying.

“You can hear the ocean inside the shell! It’s something I read about once.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Come on, Levi! Just listen.” And when he finally did, his eyes lit up ever so slightly, his mouth just partially agape.

“So you’ll always remember our first trip to the sea,” Hange said. And before she could hand the shell to Levi, she dipped it into the water letting it fill up, and splashed him with what collected inside.

“What the hell, Hange!” Levi grumbled, kicking water back at her. Splashes back and forth escalated so much that they had gotten absolutely soaked—Hange laughed as she tackled Levi into the sea, the two coughing and giggling stupidly as the rest of the kids ran back into the water to join them.

Once again, sand whisked away the scene and Zeke was now standing in a balcony, overlooking a courtyard. He looked back to see what was going on inside—another ball? He then looked down to see Hange and Levi standing together out in the venue’s garden. They looked a bit more mature, older. And Hange was wearing an eyepatch—it must have been a different memory from before.

Zeke heard footsteps coming from the hallway behind him.

“I’m telling you, Mikasa, smelling someone’s hair during a hug means they love them!”

“I guess now that you say it, I suppose that could be true…”

The two walked out past Zeke, and leaned their elbows on the balcony together, looking down at the courtyard and garden. They gasped and crouched when they saw who was standing down there.

“I’ve never seen Sasha so nervous! She wanted to dance with Niccolo, so I took the hair clip off and put it on her—yknow for the confidence boost. I hope that’s okay, Levi?”

Levi looked at Hange, and tucked her loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I like it better on you, but I suppose Sasha needs it tonight, then.”

A new song echoed from the orchestra inside—Zeke recognized it to be the same from the earlier military ball memory.

Levi reached out his hand, just how Hange did before.

Hange giggled and grabbed his hand, pulling Levi close, practically in a hug as they swayed together. She leaned into him, her cheek pressed against his forehead.

“New shampoo, huh? Lavender—you know that’s my favorite, right?”

Jean and Mikasa heads snapped towards each other, their eyes locked and faces red in realization.

“Hange-san smelled his hair—“

Mikasa slapped a hand over Jean’s mouth.

“Shush, they’ll hear. Let’s go before they notice us—“

The scene quickly changed, and it was quite jarring for Zeke this time around.

He found himself staring into the face of his past self, sitting miles above Liberio inside the war balloon the Scouts had taken control of. This time, he could see the room where Hange and Levi walked off to after hearing about a fallen soldier named Sasha, or something like that.

Levi stared at Hange, in his eyes a mix of worry and anger stirring inside him.

“Stop looking at me like that, Levi,” she said curtly, clearly trying to hold herself together.

“Hange…” Levi urged.

He watched her hands shake as she reached into a first aid kit from her bag, pulling out a half used tube of wound ointment—the same one she had always used on him.

“C’mere,” she beckoned, and Levi obliged begrudgingly, letting Hange pull down his shirt slightly to apply the ointment to the lacerations on his shoulder. He watched Hange biting her lip—he knew she was holding back the tears, trying to “look strong” for everyone else, but he thought that was utterly stupid. She was allowed to have feelings… Commander or not.

“Hange…”

“I’m fine, Levi, would you stop pestering me already??” She barked back, though still maintaining her gentle touch as she tended to his wounds. She continued in silence until they landed.

Hange and Levi left the back room, standing together outside the door as the Scouts filed out with Zeke and Eren. Oyankopon nodded at them both, and left. Lastly, Jean, Mikasa, Armin, and Connie, holding Sasha’s body, all of them a tear-ridden mess. Both Levi and Hange saluted them as they walked past.

Hange started to follow behind them but Levi took hold of her hand. She didn’t look back.

“I’m okay, Levi. Really. I have to—“

Levi pulled her and ushered back into the room, now that everyone was gone.

“Go be okay in there for awhile. I’ll stand outside.”

Before she could protest, he gently closed the door behind him, and stood guard outside of it. He knew it was exactly what Hange needed.

From behind the door, there were muffled sounds of glass breaking, boxes thrown, and anguished wailing.

Zeke watched as Levi stood unmoving from the door his head down, biting his lip as a few tears ran down his face.

The memory faded and Zeke was now in a small office. Levi sat before him, holding a familiar cream-colored conch shell. He lifted it up to his ear, listening, and maybe, just maybe, a smile began to form on his lips.

A quick, loud knock on the door startled him, and he hastily shoved the shell into a drawer, slamming it shut.

“Levi, quick!”

He stood up frazzled.

“What’s wrong??”

“A camera, Onyankopon got us a session with a camera!”

“Hange… what the hell is a camera? And you know I don’t trust all these Marley things…”

Hange gave him a big pout. “Aww, Levi! Come on, it takes photographs! Like the one in Eren’s father’s notebook! The one of his old family?”

“My family photo…” Zeke thought, his own past memories now aching at his chest.

The memory dissolved, but the same scenery returned, unchanged. Yet this time, Levi was holding a framed photograph in his hand—a picture of him standing next to Hange seated, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. He looked tired, a light shade of purple hugging the skin under his eyes. But when Levi laid his eyes on the photo, his face lit up with a genuine smile as he stared.

Then once again, a quick, loud knock on the door startled him, and he quickly stuffed the photo into the backpack sitting at his feet.

“Hey, Levi! You busy?”

Levi stared back at Hange, both need and sadness swimming in his eyes.

“I know Levi… but I brought you a surprise!”

She pulled from behind her a white, spherical object, and held it out for Levi to see.

“A… baseball?” Zeke said under his breath, emotions tugging at his chest.

“Hange… this is the last afternoon we spend together just us—God knows long I’ll have to watch Zeke in the forest before I get to see you again…” He said, avoiding eye contact with Hange.

“Don’t you trust me, Levi?”

Levi continued to look down towards his backpack, fiddling at it with his foot, only stopping when he felt Hange’s hands on his cheeks, and a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Do you really have to ask me that, Hange?”

She laughed, the sound of it bringing Levi comfort. She backed up and held her hand out towards him, a smile on her face, her eyes beckoning him to come with her. And of course, Levi sighed, and took her hand.

They walked outside, a clearing in the patch of trees next to the barracks.

“Here take this, they’re called mitts! Helps soften the blow when you catch, since the baseball is pretty hard.” Levi took one and wore it.

“So I read a bunch of different Marley novels, and for some reason, playing catch is such a common kind of bonding time? Between a parent and child, or between friends? A symbolic kind of theme, maybe? I thought it was fascinating!”

Levi looked at the baseball—“So what… we just, throw the thing back and forth? And what? We’ll magically become friends??”

Hange threw her head back and laughed. “Good one, Levi! We’re already friends! So, hm, how about we just throw it back and forth for now? If it gets too boring well, we could always just drop it. Sounds like a plan?”

As soon as Levi nodded, Hange grinned and ran a distance away. She waved to make sure Levi was ready, and lobbed the ball over to him, landing with a satisfying thump as it hit Levi’s mitt. He picked it up and ran his fingers over the red laces, and soon pitched it back to Hange a bit too far, so she ran and dove for it, catching it just before it hit the grass.

“Hange be careful!”

She laughed in excitement, and got up to throw it back.

Before long, they were throwing for hours, talking about anything and everything. Sharing memories that hadn’t been touched in years, laughing over inside jokes, the 104th kids, and their past, beloved friends.

Their voices began to fade, and Zeke strained to listen, calmed by how comfortable their conversation felt, comforted by the sound of the baseball hitting their mitts, back and forth.

Soon, the memory went black, a burst of light, and he was back.

Paths.

And there was Hange, laying down in front of him with her back towards him, the sand no longer black surrounding her.

“H-Hange?” Zeke asked.

Hange didnt’ turn around to face him.

“So, you saw all that then too, huh?”

“I… did. Sorry, they seemed like private memories,” he answered cautiously, careful to guard himself if Hange decided to fight him again.

“No harm, Zeke. Not like that was your fault.” She finally sat up, sniffling and wiping away residual tears.

“But we do have to thank Levi—he got us out of a potential mess.” She ran her hands through the sand, now colored a bright white. “Susceptible to our emotions huh. Could have been a disaster.”

Hange caught on quick, Zeke thought. But something she said bothered him a bit—

“What do you mean, thank Levi, though?” Zeke asked, genuinely confused as to how she thought he played any part in getting her out of the black sand ordeal just now.

Hange smiled, knowing exactly what Levi must have done. The box of things she had him pick up—he probably opened it.

“Not bad, Shorty,” she whispered to herself.

She laughed to herself again, but soon stopped as she saw Zeke holding out his hand in front of her.

“Are you… are you deciding to help me?”

Zeke’s chest tightened as he thought about all the memories he had just seen. He was angry at how much it moved him, both personally, and objectively—Hange and Levi had a history he never imagined existed between them, based on what he knew about them prior.

With his free hand, he pinched at the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He hated that he wanted to help. But he couldn’t deny it—he felt for Hange.

“Yeah,” Zeke replied. “Let’s figure this out, together.”

Hange grinned excitedly, and grabbed Zeke’s hand.

[obirains-archive]

Filaments

The Sun and the Moon and the Sea I.5

Summary: In the aftermath of the execution, Cassian and Mirian are left to pick up the pieces. As the sky darkens and the air freezes, and as Cassian's anger burns hotter and hotter, he struggles to accept the close of his first, long day. The first of how many?

Word Count: 6000

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, depictions of grief, references and reflections of canon-typical violence

Series Masterlist + Taglist

ch. 4  //  ch. 5  //  ch. 6

Reblogs are the best way to support writers on Tumblr. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging and commenting!

+ A thank you to @oloreaa​ for the nickname “Miri”!

Cassian still remembered the first time he killed a man. Hiding behind leafless brambles, clothes torn and small fingers bleeding, covered head to toe in the mud of the Festian spring thaw, squinting through a foggy scope. The soldier walked alone. The soldier's back was turned. Cassian could never fight him face to face. Cassian had orders. Cassian was eight. 

These men on the ridge, these five crumpled bodies—they weren't his kills and he wasn't their killer. He hadn't held the gun today. That was for the Imps, for other men with orders. So why, fuck, why did he feel so sick? Why the guilt? He'd done nothing. He was nothing here. 

His shirt felt wet. His shirt was moving. Cassian looked down. Sedra was still there. And Sedra was crying. How long had he held her there? Long enough for the birds to shriek and take flight, circling and diving and rising again into a failing sun. Adjourned.

Cassian let go of her, quickly. The girl shot away to her mother, held onto her sleeve. He shook his head in a daze. In a dream. It was the light, he told himself. Dreamlight that washed the landscape red, Mirian, red, with Sara in her arms and the girl beside her. Ugly, ugly light. He wished the clouds would close the gap. He got to his feet.

Fuck, his knees ached.

Looking around, everything was the same. Clusters of people clung to each other, shrubs overlooking dying grass: a man and woman with ancient faces, veiny, trembling, interlocked hands; a Mirialan woman on her knees, dark-haired, human-complexioned son in her arms; a tall, dark-skinned man kneeling next to his mother, head resting against her stomach. There were more further down, before the sleek, trooper-manned transport. They stood at attention and stared across the valley. Cassian stared back. 

Commandant Riceter broke the silence and the hushed, forbidden weeping. 

"Go back to your homes. Night is falling."

And they did. Little by little like the thaw and the not-yet spring. 

A few from the crowd, friends and neighbors and the otherwise bold, joined the families at the front. They laid hands on them, gently helped them stand. Sara Yarem stayed put, and Mirian with her. 

Cassian stood alone. 

"My apologies, Mr. Skova." The Commandant descended down stairs roughly cut into the rock. He sidestepped Mirian and Sara, approaching Cassian with his usual languidness. His eyes shone ghostly in the last, unfading glow from Kepnos's noxious city lights. The execution squad stood silently behind him. Cassian fixed his eyes on their helmets.

"It's a nasty business, certainly." Riceter looked at the ridge with a shade of fake regret. "Particularly unpleasant for your first day. But I hear Eleos suffers similarly."

Cassian said nothing.

"We are lucky, then," he said pointedly, "that this isn't frequent, or else that might be too much for us all to bear. Especially for our young Point over here. Competent and loyal to a fault—" Cassian's stomach turned. "—but still new to it all."

"How new?"

"Well, older, actually, than almost anyone. She's lived here ten years or more. But she is new to the work." Riceter shook his head. "I myself only arrived three years ago, right before Mirian the Mother died—after a decade in Huvo, that is. Have you heard of it?"

"Vaguely."

"Well," Riceter replied, "if you ever have the chance, I'd certainly recommend a look around. The Empire has done a particularly magnificent job of setting its barbarism into order. We've set up factories and industrial centers to put its citizens to good work; we've set up schools to educate their children, and to discipline them: Huvo is well on its way to maturing into a most industrious Imperial state, one of our finest successes. Have you ever heard of the Huvon black hawk, Mr. Skova?"

"No."

"Half bird, half amphibian: they can soar over a hundred and fifty thousand feet in the air, yet can dive and swim among the creatures of the Huvan reefs. Nearly extinct now," he added sadly. "They lived primarily in Huvo's great seaside forests, which have been mostly cut down out of necessity. However, I did manage to snag one for my private aviary. A beautiful creature it is, the poor thing. Mirian, my dear!"

Mirian stood, straight and still and ready as a droid. Her clothes were dirty. 

"Yes, Commandant."

"I've determined that you and your Second will visit in two weeks' time. He should be well-established in the position by then, and just in time before the freeze. You'll take care of him well, I trust? Keep him out of trouble?"

"Yes, Commandant."

"Splendid!" He clapped his hands with that mildly saccharine restraint. "I will remind you the day before. Have a good night, my dear Mirian. A brief one too, let us hope. And you, Mr. Skova..."

Riceter lowered his voice and leaned closer, close enough to make Cassian's stomach crawl. "... Your position has been empty for far too long. I hope that, with your support, mishaps like these may be better avoided. And a good night to you, my friend."

He left for his transport. His hands were clasped firmly behind his back; his back was firmly turned. Oh, how Cassian would have loved to use him for target practice. His shoes looked too clean for this muddy earth. 

Mirian knelt again, muttering into Sara's ear. They both forced themselves to their feet on shaky knees, in ash-caked clothes. 

"Skova!" She was already walking past him. "Take care of Sedra, please."

Take care? Care of what? Sedra was fine. Sedra didn't like him, or wouldn't like him later. Why should she? Happy just as she was at her mother's skirts.

"Skova!"  

Cassian grit his teeth— just a kid— grit his teeth and closed the gap in one long stride. He laid a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Walk with me, Sedra."

The girl stopped, wrapped her arms around herself, and looked him up and down. "Who are you?"

"Skova. Well—" Cassian choked on his words. "I'm Amrodoro. Skova."

Her eyes narrowed; she leaned away. Cassian started to panic. Why the panic? This was a kid. A fucking kid. 

"You can—call me Amrod if that's easier."

"My name is Sedra."

"Yes." He glanced ahead; Mirian and Sara were yards ahead now. He held out his hand. "Let's walk, Sedra."

She paused—would she? what then?—but put her small, slight hand in his. Her fingers were cold; Cassian gripped them tighter. He walked slower for her short legs. Not that the others set a rough pace. He was glad—it meant he slipped less often. Especially now. It was getting dark. 

"Who are you?"

"Amrod."

"What do you do here?"

"I help Mirian."

"You and Miri?"

"... Yes." Cassian's face twitched. "Me and Miri."

Sedra's fingers relaxed a little in his. They were getting warmer. 

Several minutes passed in silence. The four of them kept Kepnos at their backs; far ahead something dully reflected its ugly blue light. The bogs. North and maybe a little East. Far, far from the house. The Mirian House, they'd called it this morning. Midmorning. It was evening now, close to night. Miri of the Mirian House. Cassian tested the name once more on his tongue. He hated the taste.

"Uncle Sergo was there," the girl said suddenly.

Cassian bit his tongue and looked to Mirian. Her back was turned. She was no help. 

"He was."

"He plays Catchem with me. You play Catchem?"

"I don't know what it is."

"Huh." Another pause. "Uncle Sergo got me swords."

"Swords?" Panic welled again. Cassian felt silly. "Where'd he find swords around here?"

"Under the black houses. He takes me there sometimes. Mama doesn't like it unless she comes. Then she tells me to sit by the tree. But sometimes Bobbidy comes."

Cassian had no idea what she was talking about but let her go on; short, matter-of-fact sentences. He was unreasonably tense. Why panic? Fucking kids. He'd been a kid too, once. A long time ago. Like everyone. He couldn't remember it, couldn't remember what to say. Should he say anything at all? He'd been a kid who'd lost family once. All of them, actually. What did people tell him? He couldn't remember. 

Didn't help that she'd apparently adopted Mirian's delivery. Miri. Downright unsettling. 

"How old are you, Sedra?"

"Six. I turned six two weeks ago. Actually... three weeks ago."

"Well. A happy birthday to you."

Cassian asked nothing else. 

It was pitch black by the time they stopped. C-Series still whirred here and there in the streets like artificial torches, belts pulsing white and orange and gold. With Kepnos they cast a warm, muddy light over the glinting muddy streets, and the people who walked them—fewer now; still very much alive. Cassian's eyes stuck on their hardened faces. They knew. They'd seen. No one spoke. 

Mirian and Sara disappeared into a little door. Seconds later soft, yellow light streamed through the opening. Sedra pulled her hand from his. His fingers felt cold.

"Come on, Amrod."

Cassian followed her through to the little house. 

Very little. A single, rectangular room with a low roof; three dingy white walls and one on the right of poorly paneled wooden slats. Bits of light shone through from the other side along with unfamiliar voices. A two-family house. In the far right corner beside a single yellow lamp hung a set of bunk beds—slabs of metal protruding from the plaster wall, covered with sleep mats and sparse bedding and draped with torn clothes. Sara Yarem sat on the lower bed, resting her head in her hand, staring at the sandy, unswept ground. Across the room Mirian had straightened her scarf again and worked at the makeshift stove, a thin metal tile balanced on half of an old heat generator. 

Sedra laid her head on Sara's knee. "Mama?"

"Yes, baby."

"Can I show him my swords?"

"Yes, baby."

The girl scrambled up some sacks from the end of the bed and emptied them into her hand. 

"Here." She showed Cassian. Two spiral screws lay in her palm. 

"What are they?"

"They're our swords. Here."

She jabbed one towards his chest. Cassian flinched; his heart pounded.

No panic. Fucking kids. 

He glanced at Mirian. She'd put a pot on the stove and was measuring out a helping of rice. She watched him from the side. Cassian waited for her to tell him what to do. A Skova!; a jerk of the head. Mirian looked away. Nothing. 

Cassian accepted the screw. 

The girl smiled and held up her sacks—not sacks but dolls, two of them, oval heads the length of their flattened bodies, hairless, mouthless, charcoal streaks for eyes, made from what looked like faded rice bags; loose threads tied off their grotesquely oblong limbs. 

She shook the doll in her right hand. "This is Bobbidy—" then her left; "—and this is Graida."

They were identical. Cassian pretended to tell the difference.

"These are their swords?"

She nodded. "Do you wanna play Catchem?"

Back to Mirian. No sign from her yet. The frothing pot reminded Cassian of his hunger, and his thirst, and his exhausted eyes, and his cold fingers, and his overheated head. But no, no. This wasn't the time, this wasn't right. 

"I'll play."

"Sit down. No, here."

Sedra dragged him from the door to the center of the room; he had to bite back a laugh. It felt so wrong here, small and chairless with a silent, grieving stranger on one side and a silent Imp on the other, but he hadn't had a kid boss him around since he was a kid in the Pecquenta Corps. He looked up. Mirian was smiling. 

"Catchem," as it turned out, was Sedra's tag— armed tag. Cassian didn't remember his tag involving swords. Sticks, stones, hand grenades, maybe, running after and running from real armed men. They'd had that. But that wasn't for fun. Maybe he shouldn't try to relate. Maybe just sit, and humor the girl as long as possible, and try not to kick up too much dust. He let her doll catch up with his; she drove her screw through its limp abdomen. Cassian flinched. 

"Bobbidy wins!" she yelled. "And Graida falls with a great scream. A scream, Amrod."

"Ah!"

"A great scream."

"Aaahhh!"

"She falls to the ground—" Cassian dropped his doll. "—and breathes... her... last..."

Sedra threw her hand over her forehead and collapsed. "Dead!"  

"Are you Graida now?" Cassian asked. She scowled and sat up again.

"No. I won."

"Yes," he laughed, "I think you did. Just about skewered it—"

She seized his doll, screw hanging out, and lifted it victoriously. "And Graida lives!"

"She—" Cassian blinked. "She what?"

Just then, Mirian tapped Sedra's shoulder. Dinner was ready. She set a small helping of rice and a cup of water next to the other doll, and stooped down by Cassian's shoulder. 

"Weren't you listening, Skova?" Her voice trembled with excitement. "Graida lives."

Cassian rubbed his ear where she'd whispered. Goosebumps. By the time Mirian had given Sara her share, he couldn't help but notice there was none left for them. His stomach ached with hunger; he could feel it in his chest. And Sara only picked at her food.

"Baby, don't eat on the floor."

"Yes, Mama." Sedra picked up her food and joined her on the bed.

"And don't leave your—"

"I have it." Cassian swooped up the dolls and screws like a hawk its prey. He set them gently at the foot of the bed, forcing himself not to look at their food, not even to smell it. He felt guilty. Why the guilt?

"What do you say, Sedra?"

"Thank you."

Cassian only nodded. He leaned against the door while Mirian drew a rickety stool to the bunkset. She sat with her elbows on her knees, pulling a datapad from an inner coat pocket, tapping here and there in silence. They'd have to talk soon, one way or another. Sara didn't seem ready yet, and Mirian didn't push her. Decent of her. Cassian couldn't stand to watch. 

There was a window a foot and a half from the door, a little below his eye level and boarded up with rocks and mud. The insulation looked several years old, if not more. Too old to hold up another winter. Cassian examined the doorframe. Little cracks spread from the seams. Here, the light within and the dark without, there was no telling if the cracks were wide and deep enough to let cold air right through. The plaster itself was cold to the touch. Would Mirian mind if he stepped outside? Just for a minute, just to look at the door. She probably would. Did Cassian care? It was chilly out. And there were people out, too; what if he recognized one from the crowd? So what if he did! He'd meet them eventually. Possibly. Probably. 

"Household. . . Livelihood. . . Unit compensation. . ."

Compensation... Awfully Imperial to Cassian's ears. Awfully pragmatic. Was Sara in any shape to talk, to understand? Of course. She worked here. Volunteered here, actually. There was a difference. Was Mirian her employer? Or her coworker? Would Mirian demand her back to work the next day? Awfully Imperial... But that happened in the Rebellion sometimes, too. Back-to-back missions, frequent loss. But that was different. 

Would he be shipped right out again, once he got back? If he got back. The whole thing was already fucked. Hopefully they'd send him off right away; he didn't like to sit still. If he got back.

Cassian scuffed his boots over the sandy floor. Little pills of rolled up mud peeled off his soles, sticking against the ground. He tried to stomp them up again. 

"You alright, Skova?"

Mirian had put her datapad away and stared at him. In other light, in other eyes, Cassian might have called it genuine worry. He flushed.

"Fine. All fine." 

She nodded, unconvinced, but turned back to Sara. She squeezed her hand. 

"We'll have it in first thing tomorrow. Things will be okay. You and Sedra both. I promise. And I'll take these—" She bundled up the clothes hanging from the top bunk. "—and I'll be back soon. And you're welcome any time of day and any time of night, for anything. I promise."

"Thank you."

"No need." Mirian kissed Sedra's head and tugged on her braid. "You stay out of trouble. Promise me?"

"I promise." The girl nodded bashfully. Mirian kissed her again and tightened her hood scarf. 

"Skova."

Cassian opened the door and held it for her. Her scarf brushed against his hand; the fabric was warm. He shuddered. 

"Bye, Amrod!"

Cassian froze in the doorway. 

No panicking.

"Goodbye," he said with another forced smile. He shut the door tightly behind him; hopefully Sara remembered to lock it. Hopefully she didn't notice the rolled up mud on her floor. 

Here in the darkness, Cassian could see light leaking through the cracks in the window and door frame, dull, golden filaments that led to nowhere. Someone had better fix them before winter came. 

He caught Mirian staring. 

"What?" he snapped.

She raised an eyebrow. "All fine?"

Cassian took one last look at the door before pulling himself away. "All fine."

They took a soft pace back; Mirian walked more beside him than ahead of him. She murmured directions now and then, "left" and "straight" and "cross." Otherwise they walked in silence. Snippets of somber conversations drifted through thin, plaster walls; tookas snarled lowly from dark, adjoining alleys; the vibrowire fence droned on to the melody of a lone, late-evening mourning dove. And then there was his own shaky breath and its pale steam. He had nothing to cover his face. 

It was almost nice to walk beside another human being. Almost, for the time being. 

Back at the squat, square house, Mirian input the key code. Outside, nearby droids shone on the scratches in the door like ghosts. Inside, Mirian's own droid was working. Cassian could see the fragile, telltale filaments around the door frame. These would need fixing, too. 

The door slid open. Mirian wiped her boots on the mat and Cassian followed suit. She set the Yarems' clothes at the foot of her bed. 

"Sit where you want."

Cassian took the chair on the far side of the desk-chest, the one he'd taken this morning. Mirian stood again at the stove. Should he offer to cook this time? His head was so heavy, heavy as an ion cannon; he propped it up against his palm. The sedated droid was warm against his other hand. If Cassian wasn't sure she'd see, he'd press his whole face against it. Fall asleep. He was so tired. Where would he sleep? Too tired to even ask. But too hungry to be too tired. His ears pricked up at the sound of rice poured into water. Cassian looked over, expecting to see Mirian as she was at the Yarems'. No. Here she was hunched over the narrow countertop, head against the cabinet, fingers digging into an empty plaster bowl. Cassian thought she might be sick. What then? Go on cooking, probably. She seemed like the type. 

"He'd brought the bread home," Mirian said suddenly. Cassian raised his head. 

"She had enough time to get it out of the house, sink it in the marsh. She could have been killed if they'd found it first. Certainly arrested."

Cassian waited for her to continue. She didn't. Eventually she straightened up again, stirred the rice pot, strained the water out through old mesh. Cassian only fought his way through muddled thoughts and foggy memories of the day. Yes, they'd seen Sara before. He'd seen the brother, too, what felt like days ago. It had to be less than twelve hours. He didn't know the time. And Cassian realized he'd never known which of those gaunt, scared faces belonged to Sergo Yarem. Not that it mattered anymore. His body was gone and over the ridge. The blackbirds here, the shriekers—were they scavengers? They'd make unrecognizable messes of those faces, anyway. His stomach flipped, now with hunger, now with nausea.

"You told her to, didn't you?" he finally asked. 

Mirian walked to the desk with two bowls of sticky rice; she returned with two cups of something steamy. Her eyes were glued to the ground. She took care to pull her chair out quietly.

"I can't help them when they get caught," Mirian repeated to her own food. "But sometimes... sometimes we can get away with a little more. With much discretion."

She began to eat. Cassian eyed his food suspiciously. Poison wasn't completely out of the question but the odds were low enough. He took a bite, two, three, four, shoveling rice into his mouth like he'd never eat again. It was wet and unseasoned; the sogginess soon dried out on his tongue into a plastery paste. A whole minute passed before he remembered his thirst and he looked to the mug. Tea, probably. Lifeless gray leaves floated on the water. 

He took a sip. It burned his lips and tasted like licking a power generator. He tried to control his puckering face. Mirian put her spoon down. 

"I'm sorry that this happened today, Skova."

Cassian froze with his mouth still full of battery acid. He'd have to get used to this stare of hers: wide, gaunt eyes with dark circles swallowing up his, rarely blinking. Eyes it might prove difficult to pull the wool over and a mouth sharp enough to slice through it, anyway. Cassian tried to match her stare, but—oop! He didn't care to. He went back to his sticky rice and tried to forget about the tea. 

"I'm not the one who needs an apology."

"Let me amend it, then." Mirian folded her hands on the desk. They rested dangerously close to his; he pulled his rice bowl closer. 

"I dislike," she said after a deep breath, "the circumstances surrounding your arrival and subsequent assignment, for reasons we've already discussed. I say 'dislike' for two reasons. Firstly, because their peculiarity sets me on edge. I find it hard to believe that a single day has brought not one but two misfortunes. Secondly, because they've made your life here—for the immediate present, at least—much harder. No one's supposed to jump into this with no training whatsoever. Especially since, I admit, I'm not in the best position to train you. You need to learn quickly and you need to be ready, in an emergency, to take the lead. I'm afraid the manner of your own arrival has sabotaged you—to what extent, I don't know.

"Nonetheless: whatever's at the root of the peculiarity—" her eyes flashed. "—you've been dealt a cruel hand. Personally so. It's cruel that you should witness the worst of the job in your first twelve hours. Perhaps you're right," Mirian sighed. "I shouldn't apologize to you. But I think it's beneficial, for honesty's sake, to acknowledge the unique ways in which today has been cruel to you. And it would be cruel of me, too, to pretend all is well when I'm sitting right across from you. That's why I'm sorry."

Cassian swallowed another mouthful of slimy rice and tried another swig of tea. He very nearly coughed it up. 

"If it's cruel, it's common. Commonplace. It's the same everywhere." Cassian shrugged. His voice was hoarse.

"Maybe—" Mirian stared at him with knit brows. "You mean to say that none of today's events have bothered you?"

"I mean it doesn't matter who's bothered. What happens, happens."

She looked down into her untouched tea. Something deflated in Cassian's chest, like the string pulled taut between them had snapped. 

"I think..." Her fingers twitched. "I think you're lying, in some way or another. I hope you're lying."

"Life has enough worries already," Cassian echoed from the transport. Bitterly. 

"That's right."

But something about that wasn't as genuine. Cassian thought she was lying, too. 

Without warning, Mirian scooped up the last of her rice and downed her whole cup of tea, leaves and all. She took both their bowls to the sink. 

"We'll stop by Sara's tomorrow, and all the other families. Make sure they've gotten through the night. Distribution begins at noon. We'll submit the R&R the day after tomorrow or tomorrow evening, if there's time."

"R&R?"

"Recompense Requests." She scrubbed their spoons with a hard block of soap. "Imperial-related deaths, when they impact a family's livelihood, are sometimes eligible for some compensation. Never enough, but it's something more than nothing. Executions are harder." 

She sighed. She spent several more seconds bent over the sink. "Sara's a registered volunteer. We might be able to push something through for her."

Wasn't Sergo a volunteer too? Cassian didn't care enough to ask. His tea still sat before him mockingly. It wasn't steaming anymore. Cassian decided to chug it. Fuck. He should have chugged it when he had the chance; the heat at least distracted from the rancid perfumy taste. The hair at the nape of his neck stood up on end. Cassian threw it back like Mirian did, forcing himself to keep it down. Every muscle in his face contracted. He felt thirstier than ever as he smoothed over the cup with his thumb.

"Where am I staying?"

Mirian glanced at him from over her shoulder. "You stay here. You can bring me that mug to wash."

"Here?" 

"That mug, please."

Cassian pursed his lips as he handed her the still-warm cup. He was getting impatient. 

"Points and Seconds house together," Mirian explained, satisfied. "In some of the newer Sectors they live in adjoining units. Our house is too old to add another wing. So, yes, here."

He forced a laugh. "Where would I sleep? There's only one bed."

Mirian hesitated. "The last Second and I shared," she said slowly, "and my mother and I before that. I have a sleeping mat and bedding to spare if you'd rather take the floor, and we can keep the droid beside you if you don't mind the noise. But winter is coming on quickly. Past winterfall the droid won't be of much help. But it'll be enough for now." 

Cassian looked around. Professionally, a nightmare. If he could reconnect with Kaaza, they'd need a way to communicate regularly—far from Mirian's gaunt eyes. Not just Mirian, or Miri . An Imp. If she wouldn't try to save a friend from a public execution, she'd do nothing to cover his ass. Hell, she might report him for getting mud on her bedsheets. Just for fun. 

But where else was he supposed to go? Sector One housing seemed thin as it was. Was he planning to curl up next to a feral tooka for warmth? They had a personal C-Series here; if he had to stay through the winter, he'd want somewhere clean, warm, and dry. And staying through the winter was rapidly becoming less possible than probable. 

Not if they moved fast. Maybe this was incentive. Fuck. 

"... I'll take the floor."

When he looked back, Mirian's eyes had lost their razor focus. She nodded absentmindedly, almost in relief. "Yes, the floor... And the mat."

She slid a sleeping mat from under the bed, spread it alongside in front of his duffle bag, and handed Cassian one of the pillows and the top blanket.

"It'll drop to freezing tonight, though not below yet. The fresher's in the back corner. We have enough water if you need a shower but not much of a water heater. There's an extra towel in the cabinet. You have something to sleep in?"

"Yes."

Mirian spared him a tight smile before heading to the fresher. He soon heard running water. 

In the meantime Cassian spread the blanket neatly over his mat and straightened the flat pillow. The mat was stiff but not damaged, and barely dented. Barely used. The old Second had shared her bed, after all. Wonder who they were, wonder what happened to them. Long gone by now, probably. Wonder why they left. 

Rummaging through his duffle bag, Cassian found the tattered old day clothes he kept for pajamas—but good enough that he could move and run and work at a moment's notice. Next to them were his toothbrush (no toothpaste) and a handheld scope the length of his index finger. Cheaper than he liked, but cheap got you through the detectors at customs. 

Cassian listened for the running water before changing into his pajamas. They felt like his day clothes when he put his parka back on. He stood, dirty clothes in hand—how did they do laundry here? How often? Sometimes Cassian hadn't changed for weeks, sometimes he'd lost count. Mirian seemed like she'd care, though. Would she kick him out if he didn't keep clean? Cassian chuckled at the thought. 

He heard a bout of coughing from the fresher, deep from the lungs. He stopped laughing. 

She wouldn't cough all night, would she? Cassian refused to sleep with ear plugs on principle. Maybe he'd just have to deal with it. The water shut off. Not wanting to be caught standing, he draped his muddy pants over his bag, pushing them back from his pillow.

The fresher door slid open with a shuddering scrape. It should be re-oiled. Mirian reappeared with her outer clothes in hand, including her hood; long, dark hair hung down her back in a loose braid. She opened her desk-chest, folded and replaced some of her clothes, and draped her ashy trousers over the wooden chair. 

"You can put your dirty clothes here," she said with her back turned. "I'll wash it all tomorrow if I have time. Not all days are this messy."

Cassian's face burned as Mirian checked the locks on the door and then the window: thick, grimy glass instead of mud and pebbles. She pulled the ratty curtain tightly shut and tucked it into a crack in the plaster.

"Things are quiet here," she murmured, "but we all keep cautious. You remember what I told you today?"

"If I'm not cautious I might be turned into peat."

"I told you to keep your mouth shut." Her fingers dug into the fabric of the curtain. "Among other things. This house is probably the safest place in the whole Sector. Bear in mind that that could change in an instant. You understand."

Cassian nodded, and waited: she looked like she wanted to say more. Nothing came. She only dimmed the lamp that sat near the stove—soft, deliberate steps near silent without her boots—and sat on the bed with her legs dangling off.

"You'll move the droid where you will?"

"Yes."

She paused, eyes darting. "... Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

"No."

Cassian met her bloodshot gaze. 

"Goodnight, then. Skova."

"Goodnight."

Mirian curled up into the single pillow under the single coverlet, curled tightly next to the wall. Cassian frowned. She'd be colder there. 

He draped his muddy trousers over the opposite chair and set his boots by the front door. Mirian's sat on the other side. They'd run into each other if they both had to get up in the night. He pulled the C-Series closer to his mat, running his hands lightly over its buttons and lights. Medium heat setting. Fine enough. He wrapped the blanket around his coat and lay down. 

Even with the mat, the ground was harder than he'd braced himself for. COlder, too—though nicer, somehow, than the cramped stuffy quarters in the belly of the ship. At least he could stretch out his back. But whenever he tried the backs of his legs froze. So he curled up again, quite as cramped as he'd been most of the past week. 

This morning. The ship was this morning. It had been a forever. Not a forever. Just a time. 

Kaaza was in Sector Two. Their intel was in Sector Two. Their maps, their comms. Everything. 

Cassian was in Sector One. 

That was okay. Okay. All that separated them was a ridge, after all. And Mirian said it could be crossed. Further North, probably—unforgivable idiocy, Cassian thought, to try to climb in secret over Golgaelar Hill. But would secrecy matter more than speed? And Cassian was Second now. Would he even find the time?

Golgaelar Hill. Strange name. He shuddered with cold. Who named it? Doesn't matter. It sounded hateful coming from Riceter's mouth. These men we call our friends. Brothers. Sons. They had crumpled like puppets without their strings. Sergo Yarem was one of them. Which one was he? Where had he stood? In the middle for all to see? Or shafted to the side, watching his sister scream from a distance? Did he see Cassian standing there behind the front row? Standing alone—behind the front row with the other families mourning. 

Strange that no one else had tried to fight. Maybe they had. Cassian hadn't been paying attention. Maybe they had. Maybe Mirian just played favorites. 

Not that it mattered. Even if the crowd overwhelmed the execution squad, backup would be close behind. They'd all have been killed anyway. They were as good as prisoners here. They had no power. 

Mirian did. Mirian who was called but not named; Mirian who wept and cooked for the woman she'd rushed to restrain. Our young Point, competent and loyal. Karlon Riceter knew her well. Karlon Riceter esteemed her highly. She had no right to be here. No right to cook for Sara and no right to tug the girl's braid. No right to whine. I can't help them when they're caught. Had she even tried? 

No, of course she wouldn't. She'd lose the esteem; she'd lose the house with the personal C-Series she hated. That droid was a privilege. She had no right to complain. How many others froze through the night? How many others slept on the ground, and what would their Point do for them once winter fell? No telling—might even be his job by then. Get fucked. 

Don't get ahead of yourself. Don't get too worked up over a handful of people you don't know. You're here to get your intel and get out. You're here on a mission. Maybe it'd help to kill her in her sleep. For the mission, of course. Nothing personal. Just like the men they'd shot up on the ridge. The men awaiting justice. The men we call our friends. They'd crumpled like puppets. Crumpled down the opposite cliff. He saw them like shadows. Fuzzy, burgundy shadows backlit in red, shadows through leafless brambles, crumpling, and crumpling again—

Cassian sat up. He was covered in sweat. He threw off his blanket, threw off his parka, stumbled to the fresher. He hadn't taken that shower. He hadn't brushed his teeth. He'd have to wait until morning. Shaky hands forced on a faucet ringed with white crystals. He splashed water against his face. It was ice cold. Fuck, he was so thirsty. He drank out of cupped hands, drank until the water ran down his forearms and the dryness of his mouth relented. He turned off the water and stared in the mirror. Gaunt eyes with dark circles. His whole body sagged with exhaustion. 

Without the running water, he heard breath from the other room. Uneven breath, again and again. Cassian wiped his face with his shirt and leaned against the fresher doorway. 

Mirian hadn't moved from her spot by the wall. Another breath. Shuddering, shaking the mattress below. A sniffle so faint he could only just hear it. Muffled in fabric. Cassian felt sick to his stomach. 

He had to cross the room; he had to put his coat back on. He heard her crying clearer here. He tried to be quiet. He wanted to scream. 

Cassian turned the droid's setting to High; it hummed a little louder. When he wrapped his pillow around his head he heard its whirring only faintly. Resting on his arm—he knew it'd prick and ache tomorrow. At least the sound was drowned.  

Tagged:

@princessxkenobi​, @captainrexstan​, @the-studious-porg​, @thespareoom​, @blondekel77​, @agent-catfish-kenobi​, @unlockyourmind-wp​, @darthadeline​, @laserbrains​, @sunflowermp4​, @petite-cattleya

[irondad-creator-awards]

The Nominations So Far (Kinda)

Some of you have been asking to see who’s nominated in which category, so I’m putting up what I’ve done so far. This is by no means everyone nominated, as we’ve had 96 submissions to the form, and I’m not going to be able to log them all until nominations close. But if you’ve been contacted to say you’re up for an award, you should be listed below...

Good Luck to everyone nominated x

1. THE ONE THAT MADE YOU GASP! — A story which had a plot twist you didn’t see coming. Something that caught you so off guard that you had to stop a minute and take a breath before devouring the rest. What’s the story for you?

A Peter Parker Problem by Spagbol99

Chaotic Peter Parker by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

Cycle Through by Ambivalentangst

Ever In Your Favor by Iron_Spider

Irondad Ficlets by Ironxprince

Like Father, Like Son by An_Odd_Idea

Love Leaves A Memory No-One Can Steal by Ironmum

More Peril In Thine Eye  by Iron_Spider

No Longer In Service by Starryknight09

Proof Of Concept by Flurrbee

Serenity by Jolinarjackson

Spidey Tot by Kevy_Grayce

Stab Me In The Back (I'll Catch You From Behind) by Lansfics7

Stop, Look, Listen by Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror

  2. THE MULTI-CHAPTER YOU COULDN’T PUT DOWN — A story which kept you up all night or calling in sick for work so you were free to read. Who’s the culprit?

 A Parent Apparent by Happyaspie

A Peter Parker Problem by Spagbol99

A Sailor Went To Sea by by Yellowdistress

Air I Breathe by Heartofcathedrals

And You’ll Blow Us All Away by Losingmymindtonight

Astronomy In Reverse by Pansley

Come My Darling, Homeward Bound by Iamirondad

Every Beautiful Lie (Always Has An Ugly Truth by Da_Moose

Five Times Tony And Peter Chaotically Cleaned by Ironmum

I Will Carry You (Always) by Thestarvingwriter

Identity Crisis by Kitcat992

If They All Knew About You by Mshermia

In Unlikely Places by Looneylizzie

Irondad Ficlets by Ironxprince

Mr. Parker Declined To Commentby Apisdn

Pain Will Always Come Back To Haunt You by Kevy_Grayce

Permanence by Theexhaustedalchemist

Pieces Of Echoes by Geekymoviemom

Proof Spiderman Loves Clickbait by Mauvera

The Lost And Forgotten by Lizcraz

 3. THE ONE-SHOT THAT THAT HAD YOU HOOKED — Some writers can cram more greatness into less words than a 100k monster. What’s the one-shot that did it for you?

 5 Times Peter Sleepwalked And The 1 Time He Pretended He Did by Losingmymindtonight

Countless Ways To Say I Love You            by Hopeless_Hope

Familiar Faces by Happyaspie

First Wednesday Of March by The Case Of The Missing Museum Bea-Storer

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by Aloneintherain

I Can Hold The Weight Of Worlds (If That's What You Need) by Bluesweatshirt

I Promise I'll Do Better by 221broadwayiron

I Will Soften Every Edge by Losingmymindtonight

Petey And The Hermit by Eccentric_Artist_221b

Something Here Will Eventually Have To Explode by Madasthesea

What You're Feeling Is Probably Normal  by Finny3120

 4. THE BEST THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES — A drabble (under 1k) can pack in all the goodness that you need in a coffee break read. What’s that story for you?

 Butter Me Up by Iron_Spider

Cuddle Bug by Marvelous_Writer

Food At Home by Aimaim94

Insomniacs In The Dark by Littlemissagrifina

Irondad Cuddles by Lilacsoulw

Let The Mind Games Begin by Ironmum

 5. THE BIODAD THAT TOUCHED YOUR HEART — Some of the greatest stories flip canon and make Tony Peter’s biological father. Be it baby Peter taking his first steps or Tony dealing with the fact his son is following in his superhero footsteps as Spider-Man, which is the one you loved most of all?

 An Abstract Concept by Iron-Spider

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Built From Scraps by  Peter Stank

Happy Hogan Never Forgets A Face by Jen27ny

Hardest Lessons (Softest Results) by Mainstreamelectricalparade

If They Knew All About You by Mshermia

My Little Bambino by Maicaly

Return To Me, The One I Love So Endlessly by Superherotiger

Slow Down, Start Again From The Beginning by Cassiecasyl

Sound Logic by Aytheria

Spiderson by Emily_F6

Stars, Hide Your Fires by Yellowdistress.

The Less Than Secret Life by Yellowdistress

The Ties That Bind Us by Winterturtle

They Say Boys Don't Cry (But Your Dad Has Shed A Lot Of Tears) by Tempestaurora

What’s In A Name? by Geekymoviemom

 6. THE ONE WITH THE FIELD TRIP — The field trip trope is one of the most popular in the fandom. What’s the story that you think pulls all the elements together to make it great?

 A Different Take by Cyberwolfwrites

Constant Internal [Spider] Screaming: Semi-Connected Scenes From A Graduating Senior’s Life by Isadancurtisproduction

Field Trip by Inkinmyheartandonthepage

Field Trip Flip by  Happyaspie

I Don’t Want To Talk About It Anymore by Bees_And_Wasps

Mr Stark Enough For You? (Another Field Trip Fic Bcs We Dont Have Enough) by Livinei

Neon Liar (Hiding In Plain Sight) by Isadancurtisproduction

No Reason To Go by Pokegeek151

Tower Of Donuts And Doubts by              Platinumdollz

Who Is He? by Velarisstars

 7. THE TIME AFTER TIME ONE — There’s some great time travel stories out there, but which is your favorite?

 Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Every Beautiful Lie (Always Has An Ugly Truth) by Da_Moose

I Have Time by Peterparkr

The End Is Just A New Beginning              by Tytach

The Time Traveler’s Mentor by Iamirondad

Whatever It Takes by Starryknight09

 8. THE ONE WITH ALL THE OWIES — Another massively popular Irondad trope is hurt/comfort, and there’s some amazing stuff out there. Which is the one that you love most of all?

 A Peter Parker Problem by Spagbol99

Air I Breathe by Heartofcathedrals

Be Weak by Fluencca

But What Is Grief? by Odd_1

But What Is Grief? by Odd_1

Danger Pizza by Alice_In_Ink

Darkness Will Be Rewritten by Marveal

Dude, Do These Tacos Taste Funny To You? by First_Page

Follow The North Star Home by Fallingforbees

Foolish, Fragile Spine by Plnkblue

Outnumbered by Heartofcathedrals

Sometimes It’s Easier To Just Swim Down by Mjscorner

The Room Where It Happens by Notapartytrick

We All Chase After A Few Dying Stars by Losingmymindtonight

What I Have, I Give To You by Aatticsaltt

When My Body Won't Hold Me Anymore (Where Will I Go) by Madasthesea

Your Heart Changed (Mine Stayed The Same) by Loisselina (Loisselina)

 9. THE ONE THAT HURTS SO GOOD — We all like a bit of angst sometimes, so what’s the story that you wanted to hide from but you had to keep reading to get to the happy ending?

 Built From Scraps by Peterstank

Cycle Through by Ambivalentangst

Fifteen Years In The Making by Potts89

Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me by Itsreallylaterightnow And Killerqueenwrites

I Need You To Be Free by Marveal

I Promise I'll Do Better by 221broadwayiron

If You Listen You Can Hear The Ibis by Yellowedistress

Let's Get On With Living (While We Can) by Almond_Blossoms

Let's Get On With Living (While We Can) by Almond_Blossoms

Love Leaves A Memory No-One Can Steal by Ironmum

May Parker's Complete Guide On How To Raise Your Spiderling by Embarrassing_Myself

More Peril In Thine Eye by Iron_Spider

Of Flying And Falling by Polaroid15

Sunlight by Ardenskyeholmes221

The Room Where It Happens by Notapartytrick

When Trauma Comes Knocking by Kevy_Grayce

 10. THE ONE THAT SOOTHES THE PAIN — What’s the story that you go to when you need a pick-me-up after the angst?

 5 Times A Spider-Baby Got Dad Smooched by Buckets_Of_Stars

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud by Grilledcheesing

5 Times Tony Stark Protected Penny Parker by Emily_F6

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Bitch Better Have My Money by Neicy286

Career Day: A Short Story by Shewritesall

Early Childhood Education by Thedisneyoutsider

Five Times Peter And Tony Chaotically Cleaned by Ironmum

Hardest Lessons (Softest Results) by Mainstreamelectricalparade

I Can Hold The Weight Of The Worlds (If That's What You Need) by Bluesweatshirt

Instant Kill Mode by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

Kids These Days  by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

The Road So Far by Nicolemoon8

No More Lonely by Shewritesall

Petey And The Hermit by Eccentric_Artist_221b

That's How You And I Will by Frostysunflowers

What You're Feeling Is Probably Normal by Finny3120

Whatever It Takes by Starryknight90

 11. THE ONE WITHOUT A HOME TO GO TO — There’s some wonderful homeless Peter stories out there, so which is the one you were blown away by?

 A Difference In Husbandry by Happy_Cloud

After The Landslide by Freyaatterton

Distracted by A Dime by Happyaspie

I Told You I Had Issues by Bergen

Is It Too Much To Ask For Home That Lasts? Ft. Peter Parker by Wakandaforever2357

The Little Things (That I Miss) by Da_Moose

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle

Unexpected (Everything I Never Knew I Wanted) by Moonchild2593

 12. THE ONE THAT’S A WHOLE NEW WORLD — There’s lots of imaginative AUs in Irondad fic. Whether it’s Steve and Tony as baseball players or Pepper being Peter’s mom, which one is your number one?

  A Guardian Among Us by Superherotiger

A Soul's Best Friend by Superherotiger

Ever In Your Favor by Iron_Spider

Have Patience, A Quick Wit, And A Gentle Heart by Ironfamjam

I Battle My Jerk Step-Dad by Andromath

Petey And The Hermit by Eccentric_Artist_221b

Sea Spider by Bean_Reads_Fanfic

Spidey Tot by Kevy_Grayce

Though Everything Is A Miracle by Overtures

Until It Disappeared From Me by Ashleyparker2815

When I Am On Your Shoulders by Ladyblackwater

You Mispronounced Spider by Lliblo

 13. THE TWEAKING THE SETTINGS ONE — There’s things we all wish we could change in canon — *cough* Endgame *cough* — so which canon divergence does it for you?

 5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud by Grilledcheesing

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It          by Savana_Marlark

Beautiful Boy by Emily_Davison

Bittersweet by Kevy_Grayce

Built From Scraps by Peterstank

I Will Restore All That Was Broken            by Killerqueenwrites

May Parker's Complete Guide On How To Raise Your Spiderling by               Embarrassing_Myself

Moulded Minds by Wingswithstrings

Pieces Of Echoes by Geekymoviemom

The End Of Infinity by Friendlyneighborhoodfangirls

The Returned by Nicolemoon8

What Was Missing Was You by Happyaspie

What Were The Words I Meant To Say Before You Left by Madasthesea

 14. THE ONE YOU GO BACK TO AGAIN AND AGAIN — Some fics deserve a re-read or ten. What’s the story you go find yourself going back to?

 A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood by Ambivalentangst

A Parent Apparent by Happyaspie

Age Regression Was Impossible... Right? by Chvotic

Am I Just A Shadow You Drew by Ironxprince

Apartment 43B by Ironfamjam

Back To Bed by Eccentric_Artist_221b

Beautiful Boy by Emily_Davison

Family Is More Than Blood (It Is Light) by Moonchild2593

Keeping Company by Whumphoarder And Xxx_Cat_Xxx

Keeping Company by Whumphoarder And Xxx_Cat_Xxx

Moulded Minds by Wingswithoutstrings

Play by Losingmymindtonight

Rules Are Made To Be Broken by Ironmum

Sins Of The Fathers by Geekymoviemom

The Darkest Hour Is Just Before The Dawn by Starryknight09

The Lost And Forgotten by Litcraz

The One Where Peter Is Bucky’s Weakness by Jinxquickfoot

The Rise And Fall Of A Spider by Spidersoning

The Spider-Man Conspiracy by Tempestaurora

 15. THE SERIES THAT SWEPT YOU AWAY — Some of us love to go on a long ride with a series, so which is the world of multiple stories that you binged or waited anxiously for each update?

 Another June Day by Skeeter_110

Chaotic Peter Parker by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

Home by Glwilliams97

I Love You More Than Anything (Bio Dad Au) by Iron_Spider

I Love You More Than Anything (Bio Dad Au) by Iron_Spider

Irondad NSAP by Chvotic

Lights To Guide You Home by Jolinarjackson

Mr. Stark & His Kid by Writerstrash

Once Upon An Adoption by Kevy_Grayce

Out Of Darkness by Starryknight09

Soul Stone Realm by Marvelmusicmystery

The Room Saga by Iamirondad

Tony Stark Is A Good Mentor by Happyaspie

Was That A Star Wars Reference, Dr. Stark? by Jen27ny

We Forgot Peter by Inkinmyheartandonthepage

Webcams And Webshooters by Losingmymindtonight

 16. THE IN-PROGRESS ADVENTURE — What’s the story that has you checking your email each day, hoping for an update?

  A Difference In Husbandry by Happy_Cloud

A Perfect Storm by Grilledcheesing

Ain't My Blood; Still My Boys by Parkrstark

All The Stars Align by Ashleyparker2815

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It           by Savana_Marlark

Every Beautiful Lie (Always Has An Ugly Truth) by Da_Moose

Fifteen Years In The Making by Potts89

Found Family by Thedisneyoutsider

If They Knew All About You by Mshermia

If You're Going Through Hell, Keep On Going by Baloobird

Mr. Stark, Something Is Wrong by @Simping-For-Peggy

Outnumbered by Heartofcathedrals

Outnumbered by Heartofcathedrals

Peter’s New Step-Brother by Bowtiez

Priorities by Jlmonroe1234

Priorities by Jlmonroe1234

Return To Me, The One I Love So Endlessly by Superherotiger

Sleeping Through A Rogue Winter Storm by Pogokitten

Survivors Guilt   by Ember_Darla And Marvel_Cinematic_Universe_Fan

Tech Of Nondestructive Yakking by Wabisabi

The Case Of The Missing Museum Bea-Storer by Ironmum

The Hero Of Our Own Story by Kingdomfaraway

The Many Adventures Of Iron Dad And Spider Son by Lbigreyhound13

What You Were Then I Am Today by Madasthesea

You Are My Sunshine by Iamconstantine

 17. THE COMPLETE FIC THAT YOU CHERISH — Whether or not you’ve got the patience for an in-progress or not, there’s a wealth of complete stories you can devour at leisure or all in one coffee-fuelled binge. What’s yours?

 Intern Spider by Emily_F6

Only For A Little While by Eccentric_Artist_221b

The Guardian by Emily_F6

 18. THE ONE THAT GAVE YOU ALL THE LOVE — We all love Irondad, but some stories come with bonus bonds that give us just as much. Do you have a Peter & Bucky, or a Peter & Steve working alongside which delivers all the found family goodness?

 "I Have A Nephew!" by Zimnokurw

5 Times Happy Hogan Nearly Had A Heart Attack Because Of Peter Parker by Thespydersargon

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Brighten Up, Sunshine by Iron_Spider

It Must Be Nice (To Have Mrs. Potts On Your Side by Sdottkrames

It Takes A Village (To Make Sure You're Okay) by Baloobird

Kingdom Come Undone by Killerqueenwrites

Project: Get Bucky Barnes A Dog by Ruxian

Road Work Ahead by Toniwilder

Rules Are Made To Be Broken by Ironmum

When In The Dark by Kevy_Grayce

 19. THE PROLIFIC WRITER AWARD — Irondad has some amazingly prolific writers. Which are the ones you’ve subscribed to get at that fic-wonder goodness of 10 works or more?

 Aimaim94

Buckets_Of_Stars

Emily_F6

HAPPYASPIE

Inkinmyheartsandonthepage

Ironmum

Iron-Spider

Jen27ny

Littlemissagrafina

Madasthesea

Magicalyss

Mshermia

O0CITRUSEE0O

Parkrstark

Superherotiger

 20. THE NEWBIE — New writers are joining the fandom all the time. Who’s the newbie (posting for 12 months or less) that’s delivering the good stuff for you?

 107thinfantry

Fallingforbees

Ironmum

Jinx_Frost

Just_Ppeachy

Kittybellestark

Lilacsoulw

Maicaly

Polaroid15

Spagbol99

Sunflowerspideyy

 21. THE OG — Who’s the writer that’s been around for a while (12 months or more) that keeps you captivated?

 Ashleyparker2815

Emily_F6

Happyaspie

Iron_Spider

Jen27ny

Kevy_Grayce

Parkrstark

Snarkymuch

Spooderboyandtincan

 22. THE WILD CARD STORY — The story that does (or doesn’t) fit into the above categories but you believe deserves the prize. Which one is that for you?

  Aliens Really Are Out To Get You Aren't They? by Some_Sort_Of_Trash

Born To Cherish by Ironfamjam

Everyday Superhero by Stoneage_Woman

Five Times Tony And Peter Chaotically Cleaned by Ironmum

Guess I’m Not Good Enough by Freyaatterton

I Can Hold The Weight Of Worlds (If That's What You Need) by Bluesweatshirt

I Will Soften Every Edge by losingmymindtonight

I’m Not Telling Him. Period by Scooter3scooter

Irondad NSAP by Chvotic

Irondad NSAP by Chvotic

Kids Suck, But You're Great by Gymlily06

Long Gone | Marvel Au Strangerlyparker

Play by Losingmymindtonight

Tech Of Non-Destructive Yakking by Wabisabi

The Reinvention Of Tony Stark by Losingmymindtonight

This Ride Is A Wild One  by Just_Ppeachy

What You're Feeling Is Probably Normal  by Finny3120

 ART 1 — DIGITAL MEDIA - Who has those PhotoShop skills, who makes the best mood boards? We have some wonderful artists in the Irondad fandom, and we’re here to celebrate them. Who's your favorite artist?

 @Itsybitsyspiderling (Tumblr)

@monireh (Tumblr)

@Blackchessknight (Tumblr)

 ART 2 — SKETCHES  — Who has the skills with the original medium of art in sketches? Whose pencil can create the characters we love best?

 @broskev (Tumblr)

@Dakt37 (Tumblr)

@monireh89 (Tumblr)

Ellarie.png (Instagram)

 ART 3 — CARTOONS — Chibis, Manga, Anime, who can create the very best?

 @Maryo274 (Tumblr)

yes-i-am-happyaspie (Tumblr)

 ART 4 — FANVID — Some of the greatest creators are the ones that match the music to the mood, find the perfect scenes to make us laugh and cry. Who does that for you?

 All My Life || Tony & Peter (Father/Son Au) by Akapotatogirl (YouTube)

Emsxworld (YouTube)

Tony Stark & Peter Parker | Ashes  by Mythicalroyalty (YouTube)

 ART 5 — BEST IRON FAMILY FANART — Who can create those feeling of Ironfam with their art? Who captures the characters we love in that iconic family.

 @broskev (Tumblr)

@moonestaly (Tumblr)

eccentric_artist_221b (AO3)

Ellarie.png (Instagram)

[onlythebrave-mp3]

my top 2020 fics!

okay! so i recently jumped back into this fandom after a couple of years, and started reading fic again, and i wanted to rec some of my favorites that were written this year. there’s ten on this list, and i probably could’ve done like 30 but this is already so long lol. it’s kind of in a general order, so #1 is my fav for this year, but i tried not to focus on the ranking too much because it stresses me out and i don’t need any more anxiety so it’s ended up being a pretty vague system.

1.  Our Lives, Non-Fiction (113k) by @indiaalphawhiskey 

listen. I’ve reblogged this fic like 10 times. I’ve read it twice already and it came out less than 3 weeks ago. It is an instant classic, right up there with fics like TIF or Wear it like a Crown. It has gorgeous, gorgeous writing, a thoroughly developed plot and well written character development, and such a compelling story. It is a marcel/louis fic, and I usually shy away from that kind of thing, but i’m so glad i didn’t this time because god, this one is so good. Seriously, if anyone ends up reading it, come and rant to me about it and we can cry together. Halfway through the second chapter, I created a note on my phone so I could keep track of everything I loved, and my comment on that fic is essentially a love letter to @indiaalphawhiskey. It's just so good. If you’re going to read one fic off this list, read this one. 

2. Loving You's a Bloodsport (106k) by @rosesau

okay i’m pretty sure this one made me cry like four times, which is a feat for me because i’m not usually a crier. Its soulmates with a little bit of a twist, and the plot is so well developed. Harry and louis’ feelings and their progression are written so vividly and i wish i could forget that i read it so i could go and read it again for the first time. It's also got some enemies to lovers, which is my favorite trope, and all of the side characters are beautifully developed as well. Prince!Harry, soldier!Louis, angsty soulmates. What more could you want? Oh and if you’re not convinced enough, here is a quote that fucking follows me around because its so beautiful: “Love and hate are two sharp knives balanced on a very fine line and I’ve cut myself on both because of you.” (ohmygod)

3. Mine Would Be You (114k) by @crinkle-eyed-boo

okay this one is listed at number three but it really should be 1c lol. I started this one at 11 pm like an idiot, and i don’t think i slept that night at all. It's Exes to lovers, and it's so well written. It switches between the past and the present, it's  heartbreakingly beautiful, the breakup and resolution are both so realistically written as well, and there's a great ot5 plotline too that i really loved. This one was also an instant classic- i bookmarked it before i even finished reading it. It's also got beautiful art and Louis and Harry are both artists in NYC, which I'm a slut for. Please read this one, it's so good.

okay i just realized how long this got so i’m putting the rest under the cut

4. The Murmur of Yearning (93k) by @mediawhorefics (for some reason tumblr isn’t letting me tag them??) | mediawhore on ao3 

I just finished this one, and my goddddddd it's so good. I read it in a day, and it's essentially 100k. Which isn’t that unusual for me except I did skip a class to get through it (an exam prep class. Not my finest moment but I passed. so.) There are tons of original characters that draw you in, and the whole world that is created is so fascinating and detailed. There's also no homophobia, so if you like historical fics but get triggered by that kind of thing, this is for you! Also, if you’re worried about the non-con elements, I'm sure you could message the author but also feel free to check in with me! I’ll definitely be rereading it in the near future and am totally up for discussing and crying over this fic with anyone.

5. Remember Me Fondly by @bluejeanlouis | kiddle on ao3 

ahhhhhhh this one made me sob too! It's set in both the present and the past, and I fell in love with all of the characters. This one is also heartbreaking, but I promise there’s a happy ending. Also, they way this fic deals with the fame and the homophobia and tours that harry and louis went through -even if it isn’t actually canon and is set in the 90s- is so vividly painful and realistic. It's written half through a journalist’s eyes and half through harry and louis, yet the switch in pov is so seamless and fluid and adds so much to the piece. 11/10.

6. Nothing But You On My Mind (83k) by @absoloutenonsense | nonsensedarling on ao3

okay. I started this in the middle of the night, and told myself I'd read one chapter to see if I liked it and then I would go to sleep. I'm pretty sure I read like 6. It sucks you in right from the beginning, and there's such a well developed plot. And it's so unpredictable and all of the details are so nuanced and tiny and then you look back at everything after you’ve finished it and go oh. Ohhhhhh. This one is also enemies to lovers. Are we sensing a pattern here?

7. An Invincible Summer (44k) by @twopoppies | Brooklyn_Babylon on ao3 

so as you can see this one is only 45k but i just love it so much that i’m rec’ing in anyways. It’s such a gentle, exploratory piece of literal art, and I kind of want to stay in the world that was created forever. Its set in the 1940s on a farm and i know @twopoppies has said that it started off as an excuse for barn sex, but it such a vivid story and its heartbreaking and emotional and uplifting all at once and please please please go read this. The only critique I have of it is that it's only 40k.

8. Somewhere in Between Lightning (99k) by @nauticalleeds, @shiningdistraction, and jassy117 on ao3

So this one's exes-to-lovers as well, and it's written in such a realistic way. Also i’m in love with the concept of louis on love island, despite the fact that he said he hates it. There's a sauna scene that I still think about sometimes. It's got just the right amount of angst and fluff and pining and despite the fact that it's set on a show that is usually pretty dramatic and unrealistic, this is written in a really beautiful but pragmatic way. I love it. i’ve got it  downloaded on my phone so I can read little snippets of it sometimes if I have to wait somewhere.

9. You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) (95k) by @harryrainbows | lucythegoosey on ao3 

god so this one incorporates some of Fine Line into it, and wouldn’t say it's a song fic so much as it is written as a canon compliant fic that ties harry’s songs into it and its done so fucking well oh my god. Harry and Louis are exes in this one too (lol i'm sorry) and the build up of them getting together and the pining and longing is written really well.

10. At Risk, I Fold (15k) by @bearmustard | clare328 on ao3 

so i know this one is only 15k, but I put this in the list anyways. It's canon compliant, and it does mention the stunts (as stunts), but don’t let that deter you. Harry and Louis are written almost exactly as i’ve imagined them, and this one is such a heartbreaking look into the resilience and love and bravery that they have. It made me cry despite the fact that it’s not really a glum fic. The only reason it is last on the list is because it's shorter and i was mostly intending this to be a long fic rec. The love that they have for each other really shines through in this one, and it’s super gentle and soft and sad and happy all at once and just please go read it.

[calaisreno]

Hey. For the “The Half-Life of Death.” Nos. 1, 3, 5 and 9. It was the first fic I read from your collection of works. Thanks a bunch.

Thank you, @seekers-who-are-lovers ! I'm guessing you mean The Half-Life of Love!

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I was inspired by some of the teenlock stories I'd read, but felt the need to explore what happens to a teen relationship when life takes them in different directions. Young love can be beautiful, but would it survive? Very few people meet the love of their life when they're teens, and that struck me as the tragedy lurking beneath the teenlock story: the inevitability of change.

I began with them meeting at school, which is were a lot of teenlock begins and ends. Originally I intended to trade the narrative POV between John and Sherlock, but decided to stick with Sherlock because he is selfish when he first loves John. I wanted him to gradually realise what he'd lost and why he'd lost it, and begin to hope he might get it back. All of that needed years to develop, so it became a prequel to canon, ending with their reunion at Barts after John's service in Afghanistan.

I gave it a shell-story told from outsider POV: the first chapter is Lestrade, the last is Molly. The rest is Sherlock.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

I don't have a particular line, but there are parts I felt came out well:

The second chapter orientation to Sherlock's character. He's a bit predatory and sees John as a prize he can go after, but I hope readers can also feel his loneliness and vulnerability.

And Chapter 6, where he sort of loses his mind and becomes paranoid: "It was just a tape playing in his mind, so they could trick him."

5: What part was hardest to write?

I hadn't written a story that covered so many years before and didn't want the narrative to be boring and dragged out. I may have telescoped the plot a bit too much in places. It was a compromise, showing time pass and hitting the highs and lows.

The ending was also hard to write, their confessions and realisations.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Yes! This story is based on one of my first adventures in writing Johnlock, one I never posted, but it taught me how not to write the story. I think a lot of my first efforts at fanfiction were self-indulgent. I have kept them and sometimes mined them for ideas that later became posted stories.

Anyway, in the original version, they are not separated, defy Mycroft's attempts to keep them apart, go to university together, etc. None of it was very interesting because it wasn't really going anywhere. It was episodes of "bad stuff happens, but we're still in love." It was wish fulfillment. A reminder of why ending sexual tension, or any kind of tension, usually results in jumping the shark.

Thank you for asking! It's been a while since I looked at this story. Though it's not the first one I posted on A03, it is one of the earliest Johnlock stories I wrote.