#but as of tomorrow i will be 1 year self harm free

[babyboybuckley]

Ok I would like to say something but it's a bit heavy so I'm gonna say it in the tags

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hii, since you asked for some Sam requests, I throught about this.

What about something where reader (female if possible) is a werewolf and it's like full moon, and she's super insecure because she doesn't want to hurt him but he stays with her during the transformation? And it's just super fluffy before and after? Also, It would be great if It was season 1 Sam :3

Thank you in advance, don't worry if you can't or don't want to do this request^^

Have a good day/night <3

.⋆｡Beneath The Moonlight｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x werewolf!plus size reader

You have a deadly secret that you’ve been keeping for almost 12 years but when Sam Winchester blows back into your life, he proves to you that it’s ok to need someone else to help with the burden

Warnings: angst, self-loathing, fear, brief references to a werewolf’s diet, self-harm in the form of using silver against herself, fluff, almost confession, I made her a little more of a traditional werewolf cause I can, brief mention of dead parents, Dean really wants to be Sammy’s wingman

WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Your eyes darted to the clock above the kitchen sink as you sliced off yet another piece of pie for the ravenous hunter in your living room. There was just about an hour left till sunset- only an hour until the full moon would breach the horizon and you would be swallowed up by the monster that lived in your chest.

Even now, you could feel her flexing her claws and pushing against the walls of your mind. She wanted out and she would do anything to be free.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing back the sting of tears as you took a deep breath and left the solitude of your small kitchen.

Sam and Dean, the sons of the man that saved you from a werewolf pack 12 years ago. John made it a habit to check in on you every once in a while but after he went missing, Dean decided that he should take on that responsibility. So as you were preparing to weather out another full moon chained up in the basement beneath your isolated farmhouse, the younger two Winchesters appeared on your doorstep, inviting themselves in. 

You knew you had to get them out, no one knew your secret and if they found out, you were sure that a silver bullet to the heart was in your future.

“It’s gettin kinda late don’t you think?” You desperately tried to keep your voice level but the flash of hazel told you that you weren’t doing a very good job. You handed Dean his third slice of pie while vehemently ignoring Sam’s gaze.

He had always known how to read your body language, even when you were both 10. “I thought you liked having us here sweetheart.” Dean attempted to croon but instead spat pie chucks across your coffee table. You shot him a look and he sheepishly wiped it up with his shirt sleeve

“I’ve got jobs I have to do early tomorrow and if you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly have the space to house two hunters.” Dean paused mid-bite and cleared his throat before a devious smirk grew over his lips.

“Well I guess not but you certainly have room for one.” Before you could comprehend what the older boy was implying, he had wolfed down the rest of his pie and sprung up from the couch with a speed you thought he could never possess, and ran out the front door while yelling behind him. “Have a good night!”

The roar of the Impala’s engine carried over the quiet fields surrounding your house before Sam was even halfway down the hall. Your hands trembled as he walked back into the room, an embarrassed smile on his face. “I’m sorry about him. I can call a taxi or just walk back to town if you really want me gone.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine Sam. Let me clean up and I’ll set up the bed for you.” Your throat was tight with anxiety as you felt the beast inside you grin. He’ll make a good snack, you could hear her say.

“I couldn’t take your bed.” He started but you waved him off with what you hoped was a comforting smile and not a grimace. 

“You’re too tall to fit on the couch and I won’t accidentally wake you up in the morning if you’re in my room.” Sam’s footsteps followed you into the kitchen. “Go on, I’ll only be a couple minutes. There should be some extra soap in the hall closet if you want a shower.”

You chanced a look back at your friend and caught the briefest glimpse of a soft look on his face. “Thank you.” He silently turned and left, presumably to make use of your small shower, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

If he was in your bedroom, he wouldn’t hear your screams as you turned.

——————

Pain blazed through your veins like a drug, slowly ripping you apart only to stitch you back together and do it all over again. She hated that you had tied yourself up like a dog- a silver infused iron chain wrapped around your neck and bolted to the reinforced concrete floor, the muzzle that kept her from howling bound tightly to your face and the handcuffs around your wrist that prevented you from moving lest the pure silver burn through your skin.

You eased yourself back against the far wall of the basement and turned your head to look out the lone window in the room. It was small and protected by iron bars but it allowed the warm summer breeze to wash over you, granting you a brief reprieve from the agony you were in.

As the weak moonlight finally brushed over you, your senses sharpened. You could smell the leftovers in your fridge and the scent of soap, you could see the small bugs that flew past the window and the small particles of dust that floated through the dark air. You could hear footsteps-

The basement door creaked open and you whimpered, the sound too grating on your sensitive ears. “Leave!” You snarled, your voice deeper and more dangerous as the wolf slowly consumed your mind. The footsteps continued.

Sam appeared at the bottom of the stairs, dressed only in his jeans and a t-shirt. He smelt like you with a mixture of his natural musk that you could only detect when he hugged you. His eyes were downturned and shining with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” The laugh bubbled up from your chest before you could stop it. It was broken and sounded more like a hyena’s cackle than any sound a human could make.

“I only know hunters, what would happen if I told them I need to eat hearts to live?” Sam flinched but didn’t look scared, he almost looked… sheepish.

“Guess you’re right.” He stepped closer to you, his tall body now illuminated by the pale moonlight. “What I meant to say was, why didn’t you tell me?” 

Silence washed over the both of you and your eyes dropped down. The shadows around you were steadily getting shorter, closing you into the far corner of the basement in a vain attempt to keep your wolf at bay.

“You left, like you were meant to. I’m meant to be alone.” You were struggling to speak as your mind slipped into a more primitive state. “Alone- can’t hurt anyone.”

Your ribs cracked and Sam stepped forward. Another wave of his scent washed over you making your chest rumble with a pleased sound. “I would’ve stayed, for you.” 

Warmth bloomed across your face even as your back collided with the cool brick wall. “I would’ve taken care of you.” He slowly dropped to his knees only an arm’s length away from you, the moonlight following behind him. 

Suddenly you were both ten years old again and grappling with the concept that the monsters in your nightmares were real. But yet again, there was the hazel-eyed son of a hunter telling you that everything was going to be ok and that even if no one else was, he would be there for you, no matter what.

A large, warm hand cupped your full cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin. “Sh-sh-should be scared.” You growled but nuzzled into his touch anyway, desperate for the first piece of physical affection you had felt since your parents died. He smiled and took the chance to place his other hand beneath where the collar rested across your neck.

“I could never be scared of you.” Your eyes sparkled with tears which he quickly wiped away as soon as they fell. “And you don’t need to be scared of hurting me or anyone else for that matter. I’ll protect you.”

The moon bathed both of you in a serene light for only a moment before your vision began to blur and your body trembled under the strain of your transformation. “I won’t leave you behind, never again.” But it sounded more like ‘I love you’.

And as you finally surrendered to the monster within you, Sam’s face was the last thing you saw and for the first time since you had been condemned to this life, you knew peace.

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[sofiiel]

Cryptid!Eddie x Reader | PART THREE

⇠Part 1 | Part 2 | Next⇢

Warnings: Some angst. Accidental/habitual self-harm.

Your head was reeling as you set cups of warm cocoa and a plate of cookies at the table. Making one more round to check the windows, specifically the boarded one.

"You've been around all this time?" Lucas asked Eddie.

You could hear both the scowl and relief in his voice. Everything seemed clear for the moment. No trouble making teens lurking outside, and the window was fully covered.

Eddie sat looking down at his claws as he let Lucas lecture him. You quietly took a seat at the table yourself.

"And you didn't reach out to, anybody?" Lucas' question was strangled. He watched Eddie fiddle with his claws, anything to not look up at him.

"Dustin took it hard, he blamed himself for years. Wayne got sick when you didn't come back. Dustin's mom took care of him, and he's fine now but-"

"I...saw all of that, Lucas." Eddie murmured, his words rushing. For a moment, you could see something painful flicker across his darkened eyes.

"Then why didn't you say something!" Lucas shouted. "We could have helped you, this is what we do!"

You jolted, you'd never heard the boy raise his voice in the short week you'd known him.

"This is different! Look at me, man!" Eddie's voice cracked as the shout shook free, his claws briefly digging into his own skin.

You watched the little trails of blood leak from the shallow wounds while he sunk into his seat. A small frown folded between your lips.

Eddie's eyes flicked to his fresh scratches, and then over to you, quickly cross his arms as if to hide what he'd done. His head hung down once more.

Lucas fell silent and released a sigh. "We would have helped you."

Eddie continued to hang his head.

You'd never felt so awkward in your life as you sat still as stone. Your eyes shifting between the two while the somber tension hovered.

"You came to ____." Lucas said.

Eddie shook his head, "no, ____ came to me and lead me here. I was just tired of being alone." he muttered.

"If it helps, that was going to be our next project, after getting him to open things and not fall over himself. I was going to sit him down, and we'd figure out how to best to approach his friends and family." You spoke quickly.

Anything to stop the round about in their conversation and to feel less like a piece of the furniture.

"I mean...." Lucas words faded into another sigh as he stood up, "I'm calling Dustin." he stated firmly.

"Don't!" Eddie called hopping out of his chair to follow Lucas a little too fast, he tumbled to the floor, tripping over his own tail.

"Damn it!" Eddie cursed.

"If you call Dustin, he'll call everyone!" He shouted.

"Yeah, that's the point." Lucas replied, reaching for the phone handing behind the counter.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on! Everyone? How many is everyone? My shop is already an oddity, I can't have a crowd in here after dark, people will come looking thinking the maniac's kid finally snapped!" you nearly yelped.

"See!" said Eddie, "put the phone down, Lucas."

You hide your face in your hands, maybe you bit off a little more than you wanted to chew. Even if you could, in fact, chew it.

"At the risk of being fired, kind of too late to worry about that when you've got the monster version of who's become a Hawkins urban legend." Lucas reasoned back.

You bit your tongue as you shared a glance with Eddie. Neither of you wanting to vocally admit he had a point.

Releasing your tongue, you sighed, "Look," burying your face back into your hands.

Lucas paused in his dialing and looked at you with hesitation.

"I'll close up early tomorrow. Lucas can gather these everyones, and we'll all meet upstairs in my studio. Alright?" You offer, muffled between your fingers.

Dropping your hands, you squared your shoulders. That was your employee and this was your shop. You'd calm the mess, for now.

"It also gives both of you time to wrap your heads around what's happening. Besides, I don't know the guy, but what you don't want to do is spring this on a man who's recovering from falling ill. You'll need to tell him gently." you rubbed your temples.

"Not in a frenzied emotional mess." you tried to gauge their reactions, but both were silent.

"I guess that's fair enough." Lucas caved first.

"I'm sorry." Eddie uttered, curling his hand into a fist, he held it out and Lucas returned the gesture with a fist bump.

"Just make it right. Tomorrow. Dustin's out of town, a lot of us are, but for whose left." Lucas stated.

Eddie gave a firm nod. "Yeah, see you tomorrow then."

"Goodnight Lucas." You called, walking him to the door.

This time you made sure to lock it and lock it tight.

Eddie sat on the sofa, eyes glued to the TV, but barely processing what was on. He stabbed his fork into the bowl of leftovers and ate, mind stuck on what could happen the next day.

"No, that won't work..." you grumbled, flinging items out of the old trunk at the foot of your bed.

Eddie jumped slightly as the Crypt Keeper cackled, and a shirt flew over the divider, plopping near the coffee table.

"Are you not going to eat?" He called to you.

"I will! Shortly just-" another shirt flung over the divider.

"Aha!" you called, popping out of the trunk, a long black sheet in your hands. "Used this to decorate last Halloween, it might be long enough, I just need scissors." you muttered.

Wandering around the divider, you made your way to the kitchen.

Eddie watched curiously, "don't tell me you actually are nuts." he said.

"Maybe a little, you'll thank me later." you spoke quickly.

Setting down his bowl, Eddie got to his feet and went to you. Peering down over your shoulder as he watched you snip a large hole into a chunk of black fabric.

"There," you cheered, whirling around to face him. Eddie quickly stepped back and eyed the sheet up and down.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" He asked.

"Wear it, you see, with this hole it can go over your head and cover you up." you explained.

Eddie jumped again as you shove the sheet into his winged arms and rush to a linen cabinet. You pulled out a towel and a rag before returning to him.

Eddie's eyes were wide when you plopped the towels on top of the sheet in his arms. "Now into the bathroom and drop those torn clothes outside. I'll put them in the wash." you offered.

Eddie gawked at you as his mouth fell open, revealing his fangs.

His voice took on an odd pitch,"B-but, I...I can't walk around in a sheet." he stammered.

"It's just until the clothes you had on come out the dryer." You said with a shrug.

"B-but..."

"You don't have to, I just thought it'd be nice if you weren't tracking all outdoors onto the carpet." you hummed.

"I..." Eddie suddenly looked mortified. "Are you saying I-"

"I found you in a dumpster. Now, unless you operate like an Oz witch and can't touch water, I bet a nice hot bath would feel pretty great right now." you sing.

Eddie blinked several times and looked down at his arms and legs. "Will I even fit?" he asked.

You placed your hands on your hips, "yeah, that might be a problem." you muttered. "You could just take a shower."

"Or wash up, either way, it'll help your ankle heal better." you reasoned. You stole a glance at the cuts on his chest, "among other things." you whisper.

"I should go find the bandages."

Eddie watched you wander off yet again. He wasn't sure just how you managed to find places to disappear to in such a little studio.

He looked down at the objects in his arms and shrugged, walking off to the bathroom.

His head quickly popped back out the door. "You aren't going anywhere, are you?" he asked.

"If anything downstairs maybe, but no." you spoke carefully. Walking to the sofa, you sat down next to Toad and pet her. "See." you said.

Eddie nodded and slunk back into the bathroom.

"Why are you so afraid of being left alone?" You thought.

Eddie would have laughed at himself as he scrunched up into the bubble bath. But with so much on his mind, the sound refused to leave his vocal cords.

His tail brushed the bathroom floors as it dangled out of the tub.

He hugged his knees to his chest and tried to focus on the warmth of the water and the scent of ____'s soap he borrowed.

Outside the bathroom, Eddie could hear the distant sounds of laundry being done. His shoulders relaxed.

"All your life you told yourself people suck, and you'd be fine without them." he thought to himself.

"And then when you have to live without them, you become so afraid that the one you can come in contact with will be just as afraid as the others."

He touched his chest carefully, another set of scratches to add to the collection.

"Attacking yourself won't look good." He sighed quietly.

Tilting his head back, Eddie peered up at the popcorn ceiling, his eyes narrowing.

A burst of uncontained laughter roared from outside the bathroom. Eddie sat up with a jolt, his tail flopping back into the bath water, splashing bubbles onto him in a wave.

He spit soapy water out of his mouth and glanced at the door. He could still hear what could only be described as tickled giggling.

A smile found its way onto his face, like lighting a candle in a dark room. Eddie shook his head. "Little nut." he muttered, taking his rag and washing up.

You'd finally calmed down your laughter, turning away from the Crypt Keeper. "He's gonna be convinced I'm insane." you told yourself.

"But it's a funny show....in context." you said, turning to Toad.

Her expression silently judging you as she gave a half mrow and went to her water bowl.

You got to work putting a sheet on the sofa, turning it as best you could into more of a bed.

"He might be here for a while." you thought.

The bathroom door clicked open, and closed slowly. Turning around, you smiled and bit back the urge to laugh all over again. Eddie rubbed his arm, eyes refusing to look away from the ground as he stood there in his new toga.

"Good it worked out." You nodded with satisfaction, plucking up your small sewing kit.

"I'll just close up the sides." you said.

Eddie made his way over to you, with an involuntary flick of his tail a picture was knocked off the wall.

He cringed and lightly bit his finger, "uh...my bad."

"It's fine, the carpet saved it." you dismissed. Meeting him halfway while threading your needle.

Eddie raised his arms up in a stiff motion, the awkwardness he was feeling oozed into the air, an invisible figurative smog.

"You know I used to have a brother? He's why I know how to sew." You rambled.

"Did he teach you?" Eddie asked.

"Not exactly, he just was built a little different. So his clothing often needed alterations to fit comfortably." you started to weave the thread to close the seam down the right side of his body.

With a contemplative pause, you sighed, "His name was Elias. He was born with Proteus syndrome."

"Ugh, with what now?" asked Eddie.

"You know the elephant man?"

"Oh....um..."

"It wasn't anywhere near that severe of a case. But that's it." You explained.

Eddie watched you carefully, "well, that makes something make more sense..." he murmured.

"Anyway, don't you feel better now?" you asked, trying to lift the mood which seemed to dampen.

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, "yeah, actually, I forgot how nice a hot bath felt." he confessed.

Silence fell between the two of you again as you got to work on the left side of his toga.

"You know he's not mad at you, not really. It sounded like a lot of hurt and many other things. But you can see in his eyes that -"

"Anger wasn't one of them? Yeah, I saw that too." Eddie jumped in.

He exhaled, "that makes it worse. The kid should be mad at me. I want him to be mad at me. They should be." Eddie licked his bottom lip.

"And there I said no more running." he whispered.

"Hiding technically." you said.

"What?"

"Technically, it was hiding. Not running, not if you were skulking about spying on them to make sure everyone was ok." you reasoned.

"I wasn't-" he stopped himself, "ok, maybe a little. But you don't have to say it like that." Eddie sulked.

You caught a glimpse of the halfhearted pout on his face. His bottom lip poked out. "Look, it's natural. Anyone would have wanted to hide. I want to hide when I get a massive bump on my face, or when I walk out of the bathroom and forget to zip up my fly." you laughed.

"People have hidden away for lesser reasons." you added.

"Yeah, I guess." he muttered.

You replaced your sewing kit with a baggy full of bandaids and antibacterial cream. Leaving the upper left side of his toga seam open for the moment.

"This stuff shouldn't sting too bad." You reassured him, dabbing a bit of the cream onto a cotton ball, and going to treat his cuts.

Eddie stood stiffly, allowing you to, as if afraid to move with you so close.

His skin reveal lots of small knicks that had long healed. "That's a mean habit, I hope it's not all voluntary." you whispered.

"I...n-not always." Eddie stammered.

"You don't have to stand like the tin man. I've owned cats all my life, a little scratch isn't going to kill me. Just so you know." you snickered.

Had you been a little less focused, you might have noticed the embarrassment on his face. He had to wonder if he was so easy to read.

Something warm and rough wrapped around your ankle as you placed the tawny colored bandages over the cuts. It slowly coiled and tightened gently.

Looking down at your leg, you did your best to ignore the tiny gesture, as it seemed Eddie was unaware he'd even done it.

The tip of his tail waves back and forth through the air next to your calf at a calm pace.

"It's like the first time Toad laid on her back near me." you thought with an inward chuckle.

"There, all done, If you go sit down on the sofa, I can re-wrap your ankle." you said.

As Eddie stepped away, he came to notice what his tail had done. In his rush to right the wrong, he stumbled over his own talons.

"Shit," he yelped.

Reaching out for him, you hooked your arms under his shoulders and leaned back. Pulling him backwards to stop his fall.

"It's like having permanently untied shoelaces!" you gasped.

"Twenty. Four. Seven." Eddie growled in frustration.

"Sorry about the-"

You and Eddie look at each other, his eyes search for his tail only to find it's wrapped around your torso, in order to help stop his fall.

Try as you might, the laughter tumbled out anyway.

"Mroooow!" Toad chirped loudly, her tail flickering about in frustration. She couldn't look away for five minutes without her two wards getting themselves into minor trouble. She didn't get paid enough treats for this.

The two of you looked at her, and instinctually paused like two misbehaved children.

"Ugh...he started it." you tell her.

Toad however didn't seem any less displeased.

Honestly, blaming the new kitty like that.

"is your cat always this bossy?" Eddie whispered to you.

"See that's the thing, She owns me." you laughed.

With Eddie patched up and all the good shows gone off the TV you excused yourself off to bed.

"Sorry to leave you up like this." You said, feet shuffling across the room to the kitchen in your slippers.

Eddie shrugged, "I'm pretty nocturnal." he said simply.

"I gathered that, you slept all day. Though, I was sure it was just because my sofa is comfy."

"I mean...a little of both." he replied.

You yawned, and poured your glass of water. "Well again, make yourself at home, roomie. I sleep like a rock." you said, heading back for your divider.

"R-" Eddie stopped his question and cracked a bewildered smile.

"Thanks." he said.

You give him a tired wave, "oh you know, just trying to earn my wings." you yawned again. "Goodnight."

"Night." Eddie called back, unsure eyes, watching as Toad curled up on the back of the sofa. He still expected to get scratched.

Laying in bed, you closed your eyes, fighting off sleep long enough to contemplate the many way tomorrow would go. You could only hope things worked out well for Eddie.

"It seems like he's been through enough, and he could use the support of his friends." you thought.

⇠Part 1 | Part 2 | Next⇢

[sskk-ao3feed]

You are my liberty

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/ig1VdJQ by figments_of_reality Nikolai has always felt the need to be free. He doesn't know how to get that feeling fulfilled. After years of getting hospitalized as a teen for his suicidal and homicidal tendencies and urges. Nikolai is once again put back in as an adult. But will his need of freedom be fulfilled? Nikolai is entranced by his roommate Fyodor. Will Nikolai find his reason and in turn do better? Has he finally found the one person who understands him? Will Fydor change his history? *This story was heavily inspired by "so if I survive, then I'll see you tomorrow" by prettysicknasty. Which is a Soukoku fic which I LOOVED and recommend!! Words: 475, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Nikolai Gogol (Bungou Stray Dogs), Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Bram Stoker (Bungou Stray Dogs), Mori Ougai (Bungou Stray Dogs), Yosano Akiko (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edgar Allan Poe (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Fukuchi Ouchi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Fukuzawa Yukichi (Bungou Stray Dogs) Relationships: Fyodor Dostoyevsky/Nikolai Gogol (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo/Edgar Allan Poe (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Mental Instability, Fluff and Angst, Murder-Suicide, Self-Harm, Mentioned Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Bungou Stray Dogs), Bottom Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Bungou Stray Dogs), Top Nikolai Gogol (Bungou Stray Dogs), Obsessive Behavior, Protective Nikolai Gogol (Bungou Stray Dogs), POV Nikolai Gogol (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nikolai Gogol Needs Therapy (Bungou Stray Dogs) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/ig1VdJQ

[mortaljortlebortles]

I love Nikita Gill and the splendid sense she makes and this statement resonated:

My home situation involves none of the financial burden- but I have been looked after by two parents who were abused as children

One who cannot speak of his past, or even remember

Who needed control so badly last year that he took to feeding me less when he was struggling or picked up on something.. Even kindly. Who in anger at not knowing where he was going drove recklessly , and who appeared to be trying to scare me at the time(he lost control and we all do). 

And a woman who is ashamed of her mental illnesses and refuses help, but who is irrationally angry, delusional at times and has always needed us to predict her every mood. She tries her best and is so hurt and is kind. But we apologise for actions we didn’t make, mistakes we made that all kids make, for spilling things and for playing in a way which triggered her to think we didn’t love her enough. 

There are always lies, a lack of knowledge of what is true, no ability to predict the level of anger, conversations about the other which you have to support them with and never diss the other even if there is reason to. Never arguments only tears, passive aggression and apologies. 

Their abusers demand complete love and obedience and have since we were small- and we used to be looked after them 3 hours a day.

My parents cannot be wrong or misremember because there is hell on this earth.

Confusion, aggression and losing control to the point of hitting out isn’t okay

And you can love them and know its wrong

You can know someone is ill and still ensure your safety first

It isn’t selfish

And if you like me are mentally ill and do stupid things, thank people for helping you when they don’t remember, share traumatising things, show you are ill, ask for forgiveness because you are told you hurt people and show you need help-in my case

... that isn’t the same as being aggressive or evil or abusive

That’s trying and failing and growing and being alive

You just have to try to be kind and look after yourself 

respect people’s boundaries+ learn from your mistakes rather than shutting up and never ever ever believe you are painful- you are just in pain and need to get help 

( or get let someone you trust help you- tell them what you need not why you need if they or you believe they might feel the conversation too deeply)

though i struggle with these things everyday 

and I am still fighting to be treated

I know its true

and tomorrow is a new dawn and there is always something you can do

Help:Directory of International Mental Health Helplines - HelpGuide.org

United States

Emergency: 911

Non-emergency essential local services: 211

Suicide prevention

988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline: 988 or Lifeline Chat

Crisis Text Line: Text HOME TO 741741

Abuse and domestic violence

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800-799-7233

STAND! For Families Free of Violence crisis line: 888-215-5555

Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline: 800-422-4453

Darkness to Light Child Sexual Abuse National Helpline: 866-367-5444

Stop it Now! Prevent child sexual abuse helpline: 888-PREVENT

National Center for Missing and Exploited Children Hotline: 800-843-5678

RAINN National Sexual Assault Hotline: 800-656- 4673

Eldercare Locator (a public service of the U.S. Administration on Aging) to report elder abuse and neglect: 800-677-1116

National Center on Elder Abuse (NCEA) directory of state helplines

Mental health

National Alliance on Mental Illness NAMI HelpLine: 1-800-950-6264 or text NAMI to 741-741

Crisis Support Services national helpline: 800-273-8255

SAMHSA’s National Helpline (substance abuse and mental health): 800-662-HELP (800-662-4357)

Teen Line for youth in need of support: 800-852-8336

National Runaway Safeline for runaway and homeless youth, teens in crisis, and concerned family/friends: 800-RUNAWAY (800-786-2929)

Self-harm

S.A.F.E. Alternatives (Self-Abuse Finally Ends) self-harm helpline: 800-DONT CUT (800-366-8288)

UK

Emergency: 999 or 112

Non-emergency: 111

Suicide prevention

Samaritans 24/7 helpline: 116 123

Crisis text line: Text SHOUT to 85258

Papyrus HOPELINEUK for those under 35: 0800 068 4141

The Campaign Against Living Miserably CALM helpline: 0800 58 58 58

Abuse and domestic violence

National Domestic Abuse Helpline in the UK: 0808 2000 247

Women’s Aid online chat

Respect Phoneline for perpetrators of domestic violence: 0808 802 4040

Respect Men’s Advice Line for male victims: 0808 801 0327

ManKind Initiative for male victims: 01823 334244

National LGBT+ Domestic Abuse Helpline: 0800 999 5428

NSPCC helpline if you’re worried about a child: 0800 800 5000

NSPCC Childline for under 18s: 0800 1111

Action on Elder Abuse: 080 8808 8141

Rape Crisis National Telephone Helpline in England and Wales: 0808 802 9999

Rape Crisis Scotland helpline: 08088 01 03 02

Addiction

Frank helpline: 0300 1236600

Drinkline national alcohol helpline: 0300 123 1110

National Association for the Children of Alcoholics (NACOA) free helpline: 0800 358 3456

Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) National Helpline: 0800 917 7650

Al-Anon Helpline for family and friends affected by someone else’s drinking: 0800 008 6811

Narcotics Anonymous UK helpline: 0300 999 1212

Scottish Families Affected by Alcohol and Drugs helpline: 08080 10 10 11

DrugFAM Helpline for those affected by someone else's drug or alcohol use: 0300 888 3853

Families Anonymous (Famanon) Helpline for those who care about someone with a drug problem: 0207 4984 680

Release helpline for help and legal advice about drugs: 020 7324 2989

Dan 24/7 drug and alcohol helpline for Wales: 0808 808 2234

NHS Smokefree helpline for stop smoking services in England: 0300 123 1044

Smokeline for stop smoking services in Scotland: 0800 84 84 84

Help Me Quit helpline for stop smoking services in Wales: 0800 085 2219

Gamcare National Gambling Helpline: 0808 8020 133

Mental health

Mind Infoline: 0300 123 3393

Rethink Mental Illness advice line: 0808 801 0525

SANEline national out-of-hours mental health helpline: 0300 304 7000

NHS: 111

Find a local NHS urgent mental health helpline (England only)

Anxiety UK: 03444 775 774

Breathing Space (Scotland): 0800 83 85 87

SupportLine for emotional support on any issue: 01708 765200

Self-harm

Mind Infoline: 0300 123 3393

Self Injury Support Helpline for women: 0808 800 8088

ZEST (N. Ireland): 0287 126 6999

The Mix support for under 25s: 0808 808 4994

Republic of Ireland

Emergency: 999 or 112

Suicide prevention

Samaritans 24/7 helpline: 116 123

Crisis Text Line: Text HELLO to 50808

Abuse and domestic violence

Women’s Aid 24hr National Freephone Helpline: 1800 341 900

Men’s Aid Ireland: 01 554 3811

Childline Helpline Ireland: 1800 66 66 66

ISPCC Teenline: 1800 833 634

Age Action HSE helpline: 1850 24 1850

Rape Crisis Help Ireland 24 Hour Helpline: 1800 778888

Addiction

HSE Drug and Alcohol Helpline: 1800 459 459

Al-Anon Helpline for family and friends affected by someone’s drinking: 0800 008 6811

Mental health

Mental Health Ireland: 01 2841166

Aware Depression & Bipolar Disorder Support: Freephone 1800 80 48 48

Grow mental health support: 1890 474 474

Shine supporting people affected by mental ill health: 01 541 3715

you can always call your emergency services if you need help (or your doctors if you need non-urgent help)!!!

Your children aren’t meant to be therapists for your bad marriage. Your children aren’t meant to be the adults in the house if your partner isn’t home. Your children aren’t supposed to parent their younger siblings. Your children aren’t supposed to fix your financial woes. Putting these demands on children from a very early age is actually a form of abuse.

[yaasalaholing]

this cap gave me confidence 

by Pippa Akofa UGWUMADU 

1

why?

because I’m black.

years of empowerment.

2 

i live this lonely life 

sad and low eyes 

who’s going to hold 

“I’m a woman”

not a girl 

3 

a part of me won’t wake up

would I be so low to shoot you in the back 

like u wasn’t looking 

you’d see my gut explode from the tension of holding back       tears 

time has it’s way of forgetting 

holding back inaudible words,

language, lyric and harm 

as prickled eyes hold in 

would you be the first to break my heart 

4 

Thursday 20th April 2023 

Left the care home unprepared.

Firstly, socks, bare foot @ my mother’s house. 

An Afro wig, thinking of my braids. 

Glass cup, green tea. 

5

Should i be ditzy

Should i be mellow 

Should i be chill 

Should I admit that I’m hollow 

Waiting to be filled with love 

I be, I be, I believed in to tomorrow 

I never saw the sun come up 

6

I can’t be myself 

I don’t like myself 

Should I accept 

Should I give up 

I have to be myself 

I have to think for myself 

7

Do I appreciate her? 

Do I treat her with respect? 

Hip hop 

8

I was the cat 

Sitting in the back of an Escalade 

Watching two friends 

Pass the joint

After robbing a merchandise store 

9

je deteste ca parfois 

parfois 

10 

I’m a know it all 

I know it all 

But I’m not all knowing 

11

you know this empty space 

is meant to be filled with thoughts of a man 

12

don’t want u to say anything 

Don’t want to hear what you think 

13 

If. 

A bungalow 

Room for self care and singing bowls 

Before shower 

Meditate 

Yoga 

Meditate 

books. Poems to start off. 

Always go outside when you feel bad energy occur. 

or mastrubate. 

CASH always on hand. 

14 

We broke up 

And I’m still not free.

15 

no new words 

just sweet plantain chips 

16 

I smoked too much 

growing 

I made static in the air 

Swivel, Yankee hat symbol approached me, 

Ooo what did he say? 

Sun rays peep the bus window 

never had the spotlight on me, 

not in those days 

17

moon kingdom 

I’m rising, I’m rising 

I’m rising 

Im torn at night 

Faint in day 

and I’m rising 

See nothing but black 

A rug over eyes 

Im all hours of the seconds away 

And awake 

18 

blue jungle 

u gotta little patch on your light 

anatomy shedding pieces 

not quite as gone as 

A sane world 

Outside 

Of me 

Insane 

I don’t smile,

It’s been a long time since genuine

but it’s ‘m light 

jungle rain 

maybe bedhead mess and wisps of fake bountiful hair all over the floor, my blue jungle paint placed in the second I woke up

without a man

a woman, not a girl. 

19

4 you 

Our days are over 

Left on hold 

Knowingly covered 

The whispers. I heard 

Old rasp voice love

My heart sank into a tumour 

As land fit the river 

So I rang 

Lemon haze 

20 

Why not chalk all over the floor?

Why does graffiti have to be on brick walls?

Why can we not walk on the sky?

Why can’t I walk on water

If Jesus walked on water then why can’t I? 

Why is the window not the front door?

Why can’t I lie on my ceiling? 

Why can’t I grow wings 

and fly Paris free of charge in the evenings? 

These questions I want to ask 

Good, most powerful, most high God.

 21 

says 

the butterfly 

I want to be a bird

I can’t see 

The butterfly can’t see 

Flies 

Hong Kong’s busy streets 

Amidst the noise of the city

Beauty was sweet 

When all I have to do is eat 

I can’t see 

But feel the energy 

Of Hong Kong’s busy streets 

22 

when the argument started 

Fire crackled 

When the argument started 

Fire sprung 

Sparks made up for this argument 

The ash and light, soft and spark 

Joined air’s tone 

whistling together “home” 

23 

Taking nudes 

The smallest bathroom 

With a broken mirror 

In a screen 

That seemed clearer 

Never seen, me from this angle 

Never captured who it was for 

Never seen me naked, 

Small chest, big eyed whore, 

Skinny legs 

A body no one ever sought, 

Behind the internet,

Could he even see it was me 

I hid my face 

Wrapped my arms around my breasts

Like a haiku, or a Shakespearean soliloquy 

Spoke to me 

Goodbye lady 

Hello dumb and free 

24 

I wake up tomorrow morning 

Belly flat 

Belly finally flat 

Fat ass 

And a straight back 

from a hunchback 

25 

Drowning 

Ain’t no mystery 

But I’m foreign to his tongue 

The way he wears his slang 

When he approached my realm

I should’ve ran 

When he became my four walls 

With no door

On my back 

There was only the floor 

Lips bruised 

From kissing wild 

Breath broke 

Legs shake 

Hands taunt 

Moan, moan

Taste

Run, run 

Run away and don’t come back. 

[twiceasfrustrating]

I'm sorry if I already requested this of you I honestly have the memory of a walnut. But can I request headcannons of the boys + dia who find out MC has an emotionally abusive husband? Like fluff with some murder maybe?

thank you

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: abusive relationship mentioned, some are a bit murdery, I don't know how to write fluff for such a situation but I tried

A/N: If you are in an abusive situation in the USA and need to speak to someone, please call 1-800-799-7233. If you cannot call, you can also text “START” to 88788. If it is safe for you, you can also go to the website directly. Abuse takes many forms, but it is always about control.

Feel free to add the numbers/contact for other countries if you have them.

Lucifer

He got upset at MC once and they flinched when he yelled and they started apologizing like there was no tomorrow. That was how he found out something was wrong. They wouldn’t say anything, but he could tell that something was deeply wrong. Perhaps he had never noticed before the formation of their pact how MC shuddered around him whenever he got upset, but now he did.

He is very careful not to yell again and when he does he is quick to lower his voice the second MC shows distress, reassuring them that he is not angry at them and would not harm them. It sounds almost hollow after how he acted when they originally met, but he means it.

There was one time MC dropped a dish on the floor while cooking and it broke, spilling hot food everywhere. They started picking up the pieces in a hurry, not even paying attention to how the hot shards burned and cut up their hands.

Lucifer was quick to pick them up off the ground and tend to the fresh injuries, all while they kept apologizing and saying that they would clean it up as soon as they could and saying they would make something else. Lucifer forbade them from doing either and cleaned the mess himself. He did that a lot. Took care of their ‘mistakes’ and cared for them. They would almost believe he wasn't the same terrifying man they had first met.

It takes a long time for MC to get used to their new relationship with Lucifer and once they do they are far more comfortable and less skittish.

He is not pressuring the story out of them. He can wait, as difficult as it is, for them to open up. However, he is no fool. He knows who is to blame, and that man should be very afraid should Lucifer and he ever meet.

Mammon

MC always spoke so well of their husband when they first met the brothers. Mammon was actually jealous and wished MC would talk about him that way. They would always say how kind their husband was and how he loved them and how he wanted the best for them. It sounded like some kind of cheesy romance novel.

Things started to get weird though when he and MC started to get even closer. He would invite them out, only to hear “I don’t think my husband would like that” or “I shouldn’t be alone with you”. It was weird the first time, but it quickly became a pattern. A very worrying pattern. Mammon knew abuse when he saw it. He was the family butt monkey and a witch punching bag, after all.

The difference is that he’s a fallen angel that is used to such treatment and, as a demon, the things done to him do very little in the long run. Humans are far more fragile though; their minds, bodies, and hearts. And then Mammon started to hate MC’s husband with a passion that could not be matched.

He cared less about making that bastard pay and more about taking care of MC. Such treatment can ruin a person, especially good people like MC. He would do anything to show them that they deserved better than that man, whatever that eventually meant.

Leviathan

He and MC have a little too much in common for his taste. It is actually almost disgusting how little self-worth they seem to have, but he can also see how that was trained into them.

They play down their worth a lot: “It’s nothing”, “It could be better”, “I failed again”, etc. They never say anything positive about themself. They are really good at picking out their flaws, but almost incapable of pointing out their merits.

It goes against everything Levi believes in, but he has to start praising them since they won’t praise themself. He likes hanging out with them, the stuff they make is nice, they are a really quick learner. It feels weird to praise someone, but it’s nice to see MC start to feel a little better about all the things they do.

Although, he also has the mild thought of showing MC’s husband that there are more terrifying things in the world than the horrors a human is capable of. After all, Levi has seen the monsters that dwell in the deep; he is one of those monsters and there is a reason humans fear the darkest depths.

Satan

There are some wonderful upsides to being the avatar of wrath. Normally, Satan wouldn't be so crass as to give into them, but sometimes humanity is just so vile that he can't help himself.

One of those upsides is a mind filled to the brim with the instinctual desire to rip and tear anything he can get his hands on to pieces. It's an instinct he fights off constantly with his centuries of training and self-discovery, but just this once he doesn't mind becoming the beast he was born as.

MC's husband squeals like a stuck pig throughout the entire night, only the winds, spiders, and Satan being able to hear and appreciate the sound. And appreciate it he does, until the screaming stops and his hands are drenched with blood.

He really needs to get himself cleaned off before he sees MC again, otherwise they will be terrified. He needs to look his best when they come running to him worried about their missing husband. It’s sad how much they worry about him despite everything.

Asmodeus

MC was always so calm and docile when he wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t really get it at first but it was easier to dress them up and take them out, so he didn’t question it. At least, not until someone (read: Solomon) not so subtly pointed out that it is unusual for someone to be so passive, almost to the point of being doll-like.

Asmo didn’t believe it at first. How could anyone treat someone as sweet as MC so cruelly, especially someone that is supposed to love them? But from that day onward, his eyes were opened up and he started to notice things.

The way they didn’t put forth their own opinions and let him take the lead on everything, how they stuck close to him when they both went out, the subtle way their fingers reached out then drew back when they liked something.

“Do you like it?” He would ask and their response was “do you?”

It was so difficult to get them to start putting their own wants and desires above what they thought he’d like. When they showed interest in something, he would fawn all over it. If they liked something, he liked it too. He would buy them things they even glanced casually at, told them they were worthwhile and lovely, anything that other man would never say to them.

He tore them down so completely, but Asmo would work tirelessly to build them back up.

Beelzebub

He is the softest man in the world, and sometimes MC just lets things slip out. He’s very easy to open up to and they don’t think about what they say. He was the first person that they opened up to about what was happening to them.

Suffice it to say, Beel was shocked when they mentioned how terrified they were for the exchange program to end. Despite everything that they had been through over the past year, they didn’t want to go back.

Beel had only felt so powerless one other time in his life. He couldn’t go with them to protect them and they couldn’t stay in the Devildom forever to stay safe. It was painfully cruel just how much he couldn’t help them.

All he could do was hold them and listen to them get everything off of their chest, dreading the day that the exchange program would end.

MC has to hurry up and learn how to summon him, because he wants to keep them safe from that awful situation. He would never allow another person it the world to hurt them again.

Belphegor

Belphie likes exactly one human in the three realms and every other one is none of his concern. Or, they wouldn’t be his concern if it weren’t for the fact that the one human he cared about was the victim of this particular instance.

He’s not like some of his other brothers. He doesn’t do comfort and he isn’t the best at torture, prefering to get everything over with quickly so he doesn’t have to expend all the extra energy. But, for such a special occasion, he is more than willing to put in the effort.

Humans really do create their own worst fears. Their minds run a mile a minute and they have the strangest way of finding how their own terrors can overpower what little defenses they have.

He may not be able to touch MC’s husband, but he can certainly return every slight against his favorite human. Long, sleepless nights wracked with unending horrors that only that man can truly appreciate.

All the while, he will gladly hold MC when their own nightmares overtake them, trying to put their mind at ease for just this moment. How he wished that his powers could control the waking world as well as their dreams...

Diavolo

“Don’t go back.” It was the first time Diavolo had brought up the idea. It was one he had been considering for a long time, knowing that it was extreme given that MC was a human and had to live in the human realm. However, he couldn’t live with himself knowing the kind of life MC would return to once they left.

The shouting, the insults, discarding everything MC liked because their husband doesn’t care for it… Diavolo would never feel right knowing he sent someone dear to him back there.

He had the means to help them get literally anywhere but back to that man. Diavolo could help set them free from that life, even if they didn’t want to stay in the Devildom. He knew MC would have the support of everyone they had met.

All they had to do was say yes and he would move the Devildom itself to get them out of there.

[puckrph]

‘ NEXT TO NORMAL ’ ACT II STARTERS

taken from the obc cast recording of the pulitzer prize-winning musical. tw for mentions of self harm, suicide, child death, drug use, and severe mental disorders. feel free to change pronouns, etc. act i.

WISH I WERE HERE

' it's like someone drained my brain out, set my frozen mind to thaw. ' ' i am worlds away from who i was. ' ' they told me it would change me. ' ' i have lived a life of clouds and gray, but this is crystal clear. ' ' i wish i were here. ' ' it kills my deepest hunger as it fills me with desire. ' ' i'm trying to enjoy it, but i'm missing all the fun. ' ' am i feeling what i think i'm feeling? ' ' i feel the burn, but i don't feel the pain. ' ' can i hide my stupid hunger, fake some confidence and cheer? '

SONG OF FORGETTING

' do i really live here? ' ' i've never felt so high. ' ' what a lovely cure! it's a medical miracle. ' ' it's there, i'm sure. memories don't die. ' ' it's a song of the way things were no t. ' ' sing of what's lost to you. '

HEY #1

' i've missed you. ' ' i thought you might call. it's been weeks. ' ' i've been crazed. ' ' have you been on the scene? cause you look like a mess. ' ' are you clean? ' ' wow, coming from you... ' ' i don't do what you do. ' ' okay, how did it start? ' ' you took it too far. ' ' oh, i took it too far? ' ' don't! don't do this to me! ' ' are we over? don't say that we're over. ' ' don't you want us to be over? ' ' i want who i knew. she's somewhere in you. ' ' will you come to this dance? it's some spring formal dance. it's march first, and it's cheese, but it's fun, and it's free. ' ' i don't do dances. ' ' do this dance with me? '

SECONDS AND YEARS

' a little loss of memory is normal. ' ' i couldn't give a flying fuck what's normal. we haven't had a normal day in years. ' ' is life less cloudy than it was before? ' ' you're not a scary rock star anymore. '

BETTER THAN BEFORE

' the memories are there somewhere. ' ' keep it light at first. ' ' let's start with something small. ' ' they're our wedding rings. ' ' well, that's how i remembered it, so that's how it'll be. ' ' it's an open book to write, here. it's a life we can restore. ' ' we can get back what we had, and maybe more. ' ' i took pictures everywhere we went. ' ' the photoshopping hardly even shows. ' ' this sucks. ' ' i remember this. i made it to the school, but i hid out in the car. ' ' your life has kind of sucked, i think. ' ' if memory makes things better, well, memory always does. ' ' won't anything be better than before? '

AFTERSHOCKS

' they managed to get rid of me. ' ' we shock who we can't save. ' ' you may have wanted some of them, but who can ever tell? ' ' which is worse: the symptom, or the cure? ' ' i'm gone without a trace. ' ' sear the soul, and you'll leave a scar no treatment can erase. ' ' they cut away the cancer, but forgot to fill the whole. ' ' i'm still there, in your soul. ' ' your life goes back to normal now, or so they all believe. ' ' my heart is in my chest again, not hanging from my sleeve. ' ' they've driven out the demons, and they've earned you this reprieve. ' ' with nothing to remember, is there nothing left to grieve? '

HEY #2

' so, tomorrow's the dance... it's annoying, i know, but let's go. ' ' let me know you again. ' ' okay, when? say wait, and i'll wait. ' ' it's already too late. ' ' there's no way it's too late. ' ' will you listen? just shut up, and listen! ' ' you remind me of me, and how fucked up i can be. ' ' okay. hey. let's start over, clean slate. ' ' i'll come by here at 8. if you show, then we'll go. if you don't, well, we'll see. ' ' you just don't give up. ' ' don't give up on me. '

YOU DON'T KNOW (REPRISE)

' my mind is still a mess. ' ' my past is like the weather: it'll come, and it'll go. ' ' i don't even know what it is that i don't know. ' ' i'm some christopher columbus sailing out into my mind, with no map of where i'm going or of what i've left behind. ' ' i'm sure something's missing. i wish it would show. ' ' i don't know where the fucking pieces go. ' ' i don't know how this started, so i won't know when it's done. '

HOW COULD I EVER FORGET?

' you drove too fast. ' ' how could i ever forget? ' ' he had such chills, but still, he lay there so still. ' ' god, i was so upset. ' ' they said to wait. they never said we were too late. ' ' don't. you think this will help, but it won't. ' ' i was a child, raising a child. ' ' those weeks full of joy, and then: a moment of dread. ' ' this was the moment my life was set. ' ' that day that i lost you... it's as clear as the day we met. '

IT'S GONNA BE GOOD (REPRISE)

' it's gonna be fine. ' ' we're gonna go back to the doctor, cause we caught it just in time. we'll take the pills, we'll pay the bills— ' ' what was his name? '

WHY STAY? / A PROMISE

' why stay? so steadfast, and stolid, and stoic, and solid, for day after every day? ' ' why stay? why not simply give in and get on with living? ' ' everyone knows you tried, but somehow something died on the way. so tell me why you stay. ' ' why stay? enduring, and coping, and hurting, and hoping for day after fucking day? ' ' why not simply end it? we'd all comprehend it, and most of the world would say: "he's better off that way." ' ' most of the world would say:  "he's better off that way, to be free. and maybe so is she." ' ' whatever may come, we'll come through. and who can know how, when i all i know now to be true is this promise that i make to you? ' ' should i stay? ' ' a boy wonders whether the two stay together the way that they stay, for year after year, for love or from fear. ' ' here's what i say to the girl who was burning so brightly, like the light from orion above: still i will search for her nightly. if you see her, please send her my love. ' ' the boy was a boy for all seasons; that boy is long lost to me now. and the man has forgotten his reasons, but the man still remembers his vow. ' ' i'll never regret, or let you. '

I'M ALIVE (REPRISE)

' i am old as time and forever young. ' ' i am every song that will stay unsung. ' ' i'll find you, remind you. ' ' until you name me, you can't tame me. ' ' this is one old game that i can play so well. ' ' the medicine failed, and the doctors lied. ' ' i am death defied. '

THE BREAK

' what happens when the burn has healed, but the skin has not regrown? ' ' what happens when the cast, at last, comes off, and then you find the break was always in another bone? ' ' they shrugged and told me: "that's the way it goes." ' ' finally, you hit it! ' ' no one really knows. ' ' what happens if the cut, the burn, the break, was never in my brain, or in my blood, but in my soul? '

MAKE UP YOUR MIND / CATCH ME I'M FALLING (REPRISE)

' this is clarity that you didn't have before. ' ' make up your mind that you'll try again. ' ' there's no cure, but that doesn't mean we don't fight. ' ' maybe i'll let myself fall. ' ' maybe the falling isn't so bad after all. ' ' stay with me. ' ' don't lose what you've won. ' ' you've struggled for years, but you've only begun. ' ' is medicine magic? you know that it's not. ' ' it's not perfect, but it's what we've got. '

MAYBE (NEXT TO NORMAL)

' maybe i've lost it at last. maybe my last lucid moment has passed. ' ' i'm dancing with death, i suppose. but really, who knows? ' ' it could be i'm crazy to go. they say you should stay with the devil you know. ' ' when life needs a change, and the one devil won't, you fly to the devil you don't know. ' ' i'm tired of the game. of coming up short, of the rules, of the shame. ' ' i see me in you. ' ' i see me in you: a girl full of anger and hope, a girl with a mother who just couldn't cope. a girl who felt caught, and thought no one could see. but maybe, one day, she'll be free. ' ' it's so lovely that you've sharing—no, really, i'm all ears—but where has all this caring been for all these years? ' ' for all those years, i prayed that you'd go away for good, half the time afraid that you really would. ' ' for all those years, i prayed that she'd go away for good, half the time afraid that she really would. ' ' when i thought she might be dying, i cried for all we'd never be. but there'll be no more crying, not for me. ' ' there'll be no more crying. not for me. ' ' things will get better. you'll see. ' ' maybe we can't be okay. ' ' maybe we can't be okay. but maybe we're tough, and we'll try anyway. ' ' we'll live with what's real, let go of what's past... and maybe i'll see you at last. ' ' i tried to give you a normal life. i realize now i have no clue what that is. ' ' i don't need a life that's normal. that's way too far away. but something next to normal would be okay. ' ' we'll get by. '

HEY #3 / PERFECT FOR YOU (REPRISE)

' you look like a star. a vision in blue. ' ' hey... you came. ' ' i thought we were through, me and you. ' ' will your mom be okay? ' ' for now, it's all fine. ' ' she's still on my mind. ' ' can you leave it behind? stay, let's see this thing through. ' ' am i crazy? i might end up crazy. ' ' i'll be here for you. ' ' you say that right here, but then give it a year. or ten years, or a life; i could end up your wife. ' ' i will be perfect for you. so you could go crazy, or i could go crazy, it's true. ' ' sometimes, life is insane. but crazy, i know i can do. ' ' crazy is perfect, and fucked up is perfect, so i will be perfect for you. '

SO ANYWAY

' i'm leaving. i thought you'd like to know. ' ' you're faithful, come what may. ' ' i can't stay. we'd both go mad that way. ' ' i'm leaving... although, i guess that you can see. ' ' i'll try this on my own, a life i've never known. ' ' i'll face the dread alone. but i'll be free. ' ' with you always beside me to catch me when i fall, i'd never get to know the feel of solid ground at all. ' ' with you always believing that we can still come through, it makes me feel the fool to know that it's not true. ' ' what doctors call dysfunction, we tried to call romance. ' ' rather than let chance take me, i'll take a chance. ' ' i'll take a chance on leaving. it's that, or stay and die. ' ' i loved you once, and though you love me still, i know it's time for me to fly. ' ' i loved you once, and though i love you still, i know it's time for me to go. '

I AM THE ONE (REPRISE)

' i am the one who loved you. i'm the one who stayed, and you walked away. ' ' i waited, and now you act like you just don't give a damn. like you never knew who i am. ' ' i'm the one you fear. ' ' i've always been here. ' ' i know you told her that i'm not worth a damn. ' ' can't you just leave me alone? ' ' why didn't you go with her? ' ' let me go. ' ' i am the one who held you. i'm the one who cried. i'm the one who watched while you died. ' ' i tried pretending that i don't give a damn, but you've always known who i am. '

LIGHT

' first of all, we need some light. ' ' you can't sit here in the dark all alone. it's a sorry sight. ' ' it's just you and me, but we'll live. you'll see. ' ' night after night, we'd sit and wait for the morning light. ' ' we've been waiting far too long for all that's wrong to be made right. ' ' day by day, we were wishing all our cares away. ' ' i'm trying to fight the things i feel. ' ' some hurts never heal. some ghosts are never gone. but we still go on. ' ' you find some way to survive. and you find out you don't have to be happy at all to be happy you're alive. ' ' give me clouds, and rain, and gray. give me pain, if that's what's real: it's the price we pay to feel. ' ' the price of love is loss. but still, we pay. we love anyway. ' ' when the night has finally gone, and when we see the new day dawn, we'll wonder how we wandered for so long, so blind. ' ' the wasted world we thought we knew, the light makes it look brand new. ' ' day after day, we'll find the will to find our way, knowing that the darkest skies will someday see the sun. ' ' there will be light. '

BONUS: SOMETHING I CAN'T SEE

' have you drained all your resources? have you overshot the mark? ' ' is the man with all the answers only grasping in the dark? ' ' you can't see that without me, she's really not alive. ' ' you've had your chance. ' ' deep inside, you still don't see the truth she keeps concealed. ' ' something i can't see makes you think that i'll be fine. ' ' something i can't see keeps you crossing that same line. ' ' you have your ways to try and make me disappear. ' ' she's lost somewhere that you can't reach, and me? i'm still right here. ' ' how you think that this will set her free is something i can't see. ' ' you follow every guideline, ask the questions, check each chart. but healing mind and soul is not just science; it's an art. ' ' with everything i've lost, it's hard to see the things i've won. ' ' i've done the best i could, but now, at best, i've come undone. ' ' i won't be cured. i won't be tamed. ' ' you won't be cured, you won't be tamed, you won't let go of something that you know cannot be named. ' ' something i can't see is alive inside your mind. ' ' something i can't see means it's something i can't find. ' ' the mind can be so certain while the soul is full of doubt. ' ' the mind lets in the fears you hoped the brain would just shut out. ' ' i see he holds you still. ' ' i always hold your soul. i will until you let me go. ' ' it's a dream, a hope that kills. ' ' there's so much left to try. ' ' i want to help, but how can i? ' ' i don't know what i don't know. all i know is i can't let you go. ' ' it leaves you somehow wanting more. ' ' i fear i've gone too far, but there's still so far to run. ' ' the race is far from over—no, the race has just begun. ' ' i'll keep on fighting until you're free. '

[skellebonez]

(kicks door down) INVERTED AU WITH PROMPT 72, SPECIFICALLY WITH MK

I’m not going to write out the ENTIRE TikTok so just. Watch an enjoy the madness that is B Dylan Hollis. It will make this fill so much more entertaining.

Don’t you dare.

Had it not been even a few weeks ago things would be almost completely on their normal “regular day with no special plans” schedule. Wake up, work, hang out with Pigsy and Tang, get Mei to have some fun, run off to Mount Huaguo for training with Sun Wukong, make sure the immortal Monkey King is taking care of himself, go home and sleep (a few gaps between each in case he needed to chuck a water bottle or granola bar at any of his friends and make sure they weren’t overworking themselves and if he came across anyone who needed his special brand of, as Macaque once called it, “aggressive self care affection”).

But no. Oh no. This was not a few weeks ago.

This was now, not even a month after the Lunar New Year Festival. Not even a month after he was finally introduced to the rest of Spider Queen’s family- plus one not so accidental addition who had decided it would be a fantastic idea to experiment on himself for funsies and “oops all spiders”.

Said addition stood, or rather half stood and half reclined on the mechnical legs protruding from his back, diligently typing away at his computer. The same computer he hadn’t stepped away from except to take a shower earlier in the day.

17 hours ago.

“Syntax,” MK said with the most gentle warning tone he could muster... which, to anyone unfamiliar with MK would sound like he spoke the human turned spider demon’s name like a threat. “Please tell me you have eaten more than a single calorie bar today.”

“I have eaten more than a single calorie bar today,” the scientist assured with a barely thrown over his shoulder smile in the younger man’s direction.

“Ok g-”

“I ate 2.”

The proud look on Syntax's face, as if he had figured out the loophole to end all loopholes, was a stark contrast to MK's expression of angry horror.

"You can't just eat TWO CALORIE BARS, Syntax!" He shouted, grabbing the scientist by his lab coat sleeve before starting to drag him out of the laboratory. If anyone was there to witness this they would find this feat impressive given how Syntax dug his mechanical legs into the floor in protest.

"I have survived on these so far and I will conti-"

"Survived, yeah, as a human," MK noted as he realized the other was simply allowing him to lead him along without a fight in the least. "But you're a spider demon... cyborg... guy now, you need more sustenance than that. And you needed more before!"

"3 bars?"

"NO MORE OF THE FUCKING BARS!"

The moment Syntax shrunk back in reaction to MK’s yelling the Monkie Kid took his chance and gripped the scientist’s sides and tossed the man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before breaking out into a sprint down the halls of Spider Queen’s lair.

“Don’t you dare!” Syntax yelped, attempting to free his arms or move his spider legs but gave up on the later and instead retracted them out of fear he might accidentally harm his captor. “I have work to finish, young man!”

“You can’t finish if you die of malnutrition, I’m teaching you how to cook!”

As they ran toward the entrance they passed Spider Queen who, upon realizing what was happening, gave them a calm wave and a smile.

“Make sure to have him back in time for you to get home before dark, MK!”

“EVEN MY QUEEN IS BETRAYING ME!”

~

Syntax eventually gave in. After all, despite his new enhancements he was still no match for the sheer strength of the Monkey King himself in the hands of a very determined young man with a hard line stance on self care.

And somehow this man decided he should be deposited in... his kitchen.

In front of a phone set up like... a camera.

Huh.

“Uh-”

“Hold that thought!” MK said, positioning Syntax just out of sight as he grabbed a cook book and hit record. “A bean PIE from the 1920s! Today we’re doing something different-” he reached over and grabbed Syntax’s arm, pulling him into frame without even a single change in his expression. “Today I have an assistant because SOMEONE doesn’t know how to EAT NUTRITION and needs more Vitamin B.”

As he let go of the scientist’s arm he turned to him, face as serious as a miscalculated formula when a project was due in 1 hour.

“OK, you’re the science dude. Let me tell you something from experience,” MK grabbed the cook book, holding it up. “Cooking IS science. And this science insists that BEANS can be made into a PIE which I think is bullshit and I am going to prove on camera. Until you learn how to eat things that aren’t instant bars, you are going to join me on my cooking science experiments. Understood?”

Truth me told, Syntax didn’t see the appeal in cooking. It was far too much hassle for something as basic as nutritional supplements you could acquire from far easier means that did not involve making a mess you had to clean up later... but...

The idea that cooking could be a science... that he had never considered before. And MK seemed to be pretty well convinced that he was correct in this assertion. This was part of why Syntax had, for a while now, considered reaching out to him with an offer of becoming his assistant. His tenacity and determination was something that was a great asset in the field of scientific discovery after all! And well...

If making a weird pie could get him into the young man’s good graces...

“Where do we start?”

~

MK held up a bowl of beans to the camera. “Now these took a long bath last night-” he turned to Syntax. “-I’ll splice in some footage from earlier here later-TIME TO COOK EM!”

~

“The pot,” Syntax noted, pointing to the pot on MK’s stove that had begun to over boil.

“AAGH!” MK yelped, sliding over from where he was grabbing his mixer. “BEAN REBELLION!”

~

“Eggie,” MK chuckled out, cracking an egg into the mixing bowl with the rest of the ingredients.

“How many eggs does it call for?” Syntax asked, trying to make sense out of the madness he was being witness to.

“How many? I don’t know, it just says EGGS.” MK gestured to the cookbook before them as if it has just insulted Pigsy himself to MK’s face.

~

“FORE!” MK yelled, closing his eyes and turning on the blender as Syntax held a frying pan in front of himself in preparation for disaster.

And disaster came... just not in the way either expected, as the blender sputtered and just.... stopped.

“... did you just kill my blender?” MK turned the knob on it, shaking it and tapping it gently. “HELLO?”

He shook it harder, twisting and turning the knob on the front wildly before he broke down into laughter. “THE BEANS KILLED MY BLENDER.” MK crossed his arms on the counter, laying his head down on them as he devolved into equally amused and annoyed cackles. “This has never happened before, how the hell!?”

“Well...” Syntax looked around, finding an induction blender sitting half buried on the opposite side of the counter. “Will this work?”

~

Finally. After waiting for the pie to bake. It was done.

A piece sat on a plate before both men, looking both intimidating and somehow delectable at the same time. But both were well away this concoction was primarily sugar, cinnamon, and BEANS. They looked at each other for a moment before nodding, each taking a fork full of the pit before shoving it into their mouths expecting the worst.

MK looked at Syntax as they chewed. Then the camera. Then he started to laugh through his bite as Syntax’s face went on a journey from “this tastes good” to “HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS TASTE GOOD”.

“Nothing makes sense anymore,” he moaned, gesturing to the pie slice before him as he began to laugh in disbelief.

“WHY ARE YOU GOOD?” Syntax asked, shaking his plate slightly. “You have a bag of BEANS in you!”

MK laughed harder, needing to put his plate on the counter as he needed to hold his sides from the pain of trying not to laugh louder than he was.

“This is like if tomato soup made a cake that tasted like chocolate!”

“I-It!” MK wheezed, holding up one hand to get the scientist’s attention. “It has!”

“I’M SORRY- WHAT!?”

~

“Yes? Oh, that’s fine dear! Yes, as long as he has somewhere to sleep and I know where he is- ... yes, we would love to try some when you escort him home tomorrow! Thank you, take care now,” Spider Queen said, smiling as she hung up the cell phone that Pigsy and Tang had no kindly helped her acquire.

“So, uh...” Huntsman asked, rubbing the back of his neck in concern and confusion. “What’s up?”

“Syntax will be spending the evening with MK!” She announced, smiling wide. “He’s taken up an interest in baking, apparently. Something about needing to unlock the secrets of tomato soup and beans.”

[violet-knox]

The Family Secret

Chapter 3: Deep Breaths

Pairing: Young!Snape x Reader

Summary: You finally make it home, safe and sound, happy to welcome Severus into your family. Finally you feel at ease until you’re woken in the middle of the night.

Word count: 4087

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1 

Severus had barely any time to sleep before it was your turn to be dropped off, the conductor glaring down the bus in your direction when he called your name. You were too tired to care for the overgrown child holding a grudge on you because your boyfriend was irritable. Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion and it took everything you had to stay awake, telling yourself you were almost there as the bus swerved around the town. 

“Sev,” you whispered, lightly shaking his shoulders to wake him. “Severus.”

You heard him groan in protest, he cuddled into your side as if you were waking him to head to class. You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled as he hummed in response and for the first time that night, you saw a look of content reflected on his face. He was no longer worried about what you might think of him, whether you’d leave him to the horrors of his family or not. He no longer cared what his parents might do, how they may react. None of it mattered anymore. He’d left Spinner’s End, never to return and for the first time in his life, he knew without a doubt he had someone who cared and loved him back. 

“It’s time to go,” you urged him, trying to push him up. Pulling himself off you with a groan, he rubbed his tired eyes, trying to shake off his sleep. He looked worse than he had before he’d fallen asleep, a giant bruise on the side of his jaw making itself apparent and you could only hope that was the extent of his injuries.

“Already?” He spoke like he had the flu, his voice heavy with pain, harsh like his throat was made of sandpaper. 

“I’m afraid so,” you chuckled, gently tucking his hair behind his ear, your fingers hovering over his bruise tracing its outline. Your smile slowly faded into a frown, Severus grasping your wrist when he saw the sadness in your eyes. The last thing he wanted was for you to worry over him. Wounds heal, but it's hard to change the way people view others, something he was all too familiar with, and he didn’t want you to see him like some helpless child that needed your protection. 

Placing his hand over yours, he peeled it away from his face, gripping it tightly instead, hoping to assure you he was fine. Your eyes met his and you felt your worries melt away as you focussed on him. Severus smiled as he watched your expression soften, relieved you wouldn’t make a big deal over his injuries. Leaning in, he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours, his hand finding itself in your hair as he kissed you. You eagerly kissed back, forgetting about last night, forgetting you’d just helped him run away from home and how worried your parents must have been when you didn’t come home yesterday. You focussed on his touch, his kiss, his love for you and left behind any concerns about what was to happen next. 

“(Y/L/N)!” Shouted the conductor. You pulled yourself away from him, Severus leaning in to keep your lips connected for as long as possible, a small whimper of complaint escaping his lips as you stood up, pushing back the curtains to find Kipling glaring down the bus in your direction. “Your stop!”

You rose your hand to thank the man and turned back to Severus, raising an eyebrow as you suppressed a laugh. You’d never seen a man as old as Kepling hold a grudge over the way a teenager had treated him, but you found the absurdity of the situation absolutely hilarious and apparently so did Severus. He no longer seemed short tempered towards the man, his mood improved after the short nap he’d taken. There were no words to express the relief you felt seeing him happy, watching the life return to his body.   

As Severus took his time to get up from off the bed, you removed the charm on the trunk and pulled on the handle to reveal it from where it hid. Once the bus came to an abrupt halt, Severus took the other side of the trunk and you both made your way off the bus. Kipling glared at you both, arms crossed as you passed him by, saying absolutely nothing when you tried to thank him. The second you’d stepped off the bus, the doors slammed shut and the bus was gone, leaving you in the dark once again. 

You shook your head at the insane night you’d had, hoping that your arrival at your destination meant the nightmare was over, that you could both finally get some rest. You glanced over to Severus who looked rather confused, glaring at the house you’d been dropped off at. It wasn’t enormous, but it was large enough for you to know never to mention it to Severus all these years, knowing how he’d feel about your family’s fortune. But it wasn’t just the size of the house that Severus found quite shocking, it was the fact that it was the only house on the street alive at four-thirty in the morning. The first floor was completely lit and he could see movements in what he assumed was the kitchen. 

“My father’s a doctor,” you explained as you pushed open the gate and made your way up to the door. You’d mentioned previously both your parents were Muggles, but you’d never cared to share what they did, always avoiding the question when he asked, feeling guilty when he told you his mother was unemployed and his father was a factory worker. You never minded of course, but the way he looked when he told you of his parent’s work status, you could tell he was ashamed.  

“What?” Severus looked confused as if your statement couldn’t possibly explain why your house was awake, hoping the reason wasn’t because of him and your choice to stay at Spinner’s End last night. You giggled as you set down the trunk to search for your keys, realizing he had no reason to understand the job of a Muggle doctor. Ever since you’d left for Hogwarts, you’d felt yourself detach from the Muggle world more and more, your parents the only reason you keep in touch

“He works the night shift Thursday through Saturday,” you told him. “He always leaves for work around seven pm and then returns at four in the morning.”

“But why? That sounds like a horrible schedule to keep,” Severus asked, staring at the window where your father’s shadow was shown holding a mug and reading a book. He found it strange for someone to want to work such hours, especially when the entire country was asleep right now. 

“He didn’t pick his schedule,” you said as you pushed open the door and pocketed your keys. Severus watched the figure in the kitchen turn towards the sound of the front door opening before setting down the mug and book to make his way into the sitting room. Stepping inside, he helped you carry his trunk inside before you shut the door. 

“(Y/N)?!” Severus watched your father quickly make his way into the room, clearly concerned for you. “Where have you been?!”

He’d barely thrown Severus a quick glance before focussing his attention on you. His reaction wasn’t one Severus had ever imagined coming from a parent, his own never glancing twice if he stayed out late so long as he was there in the morning for chores. Your father cared for you, the panic of harm coming your way evident in his eyes. He would have been jealous long ago as he always was when he saw others with their parents, but he felt happy watching him hug you. He wanted you to be loved, to have people worry over you, to have what he didn’t. 

“I-I know I said I’d be home by midnight. I’m sorry, something came up. I-” you spoke apologetically, your eyes trying to calm him as you both kept your arms hooked on one another. You peered over in Severus’ direction and he saw the smallest sliver of a smile on your face, like he was part of the family, being welcomed home instead of the intruder he truly was. “Can Severus stay here for a while?”

The man shifted his glance to Severus, letting you go as his eyes scanned him over. He felt self-conscious as he waited in anticipation for the man’s answer, to see if this house would reject him, claiming him unworthy like Lily’s had. He knew how he looked, bruised, hair likely dripping with oil, clothing dirty and torn. He wasn’t exactly in the ideal state to be meeting your father, let alone barging into his home at four in the morning asking for a place to stay. 

“What happened?” your father asked.

“Can-can we talk about it in the morning?” You pleaded with your eyes, too exhausted to do anything but sleep. You both needed to rest after the night you’d had, after you’d made your escape. Severus was free of that horrible house and you just wanted to make sure he was okay rather than argue with your father right now. 

It seemed as though hours would pass by as you both stood there, staring at the man, his arms crossed, eyes squinting, glancing between you and Severus. Neither of you knew what you’d do if he said no. You didn’t have enough money to find a place to stay and going back to Spinner’s End wasn’t an option. He had to say yes, there was no other choice. You’d fight for him to stay with you, at least for the night and if it came to it, you’d figure out what to do tomorrow, take it one day at a time. Finally, your father relaxed his posture, his arms falling by his side as he let out a sigh in defeat.

“Fine. Uh, Severus, you can stay in our guest room,” he agreed to your terms, pointing to the door beside the staircase down the hall. 

“Papa please, can he stay in my room? Just for tonight? Please?” You pushed your luck and Severus could hardly believe your daring attitude. It was enough for your father to agree to let him stay, generous of him considering he’d never met Severus before, but you had concerns. Severus was getting weaker with each moment that passed. He was physically, mentally and emotionally strained from everything that had happened and you wanted him by your side in case anything were to happen.

“Absolutely not.” Your father rejected your request as predicted. 

“Please Papa? It’s been a long night and I don’t want to leave him.” You took Severus’ hand and pressed his arm into your chest, hoping to sway your father. You knew he had a soft spot for you; being an only child did have its perks, at least with your father. 

“Please,” you begged, smiling as you held Severus tighter, your boyfriend likely completely red in the face by now from the situation, but you couldn’t risk taking your eyes of your father to find out. He kept glancing away from you, shaking his head, rolling his eyes at your stubborn behaviour, but you kept your position, never letting up.  

“Fine. But keep your door open,” he finally agreed, and you relaxed your grasp on Severus, happy you wouldn’t have to leave his side just yet. 

“Thank you!” you sang in glee as you turned your eyes to Severus, smiling when you saw his hair fallen around him, what little you could see of his face, beet red. He was embarrassed of course, ashamed he had to ask for help from the parents of the person he’d been dating, who he loved and wanted to make a good impression for. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He wasn’t supposed to stand there in front of the man like a beggar, a homeless student with nothing to show for but the clothes on his back and the trunk you’d helped him lug around. The way the man looked at him now, pity in his eyes, a look of remorse, this wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. 

“Go upstairs and I’ll fetch my first aid kit.” your father ordered, looking rather concerned for Severus. He was paler than usual, his skin whiter than paper, his eyes bloodshot and his breaths heavier than ever before. You’d been so concerned with your travels, getting him to safety, you’d hardly noticed how discoloured he was. 

Picking up one side of the trunk, Severus grabbed hold of the other as he followed you up the stairs to your room. Your room was at least three times larger than his, your bed holding a queen-sized mattress, pillows fluffier than a Pygmy Puff, a large desk organized with as much supplies as you could ever need. None of it a shock to him considering the size and location of the house. You placed the trunk against the wall between your closet and the door before flicking on the light to your room. You’d barely invited Severus to have a seat on the bed before your father came back into the room, setting the first aid kit onto your desk and unzipping it. 

Severus rose a brow at you, doubting how effective Muggle medicine could be, but he let your father examine him nonetheless. Having you by his side was all that gave him the strength to pull through all this. He looked down at his hand, watching your fingers slip through his palm to interlock with his. Your touch was medicine enough for him, the cream your father had given him for the bruises useless when you’d spent all of last night mending his heart.

“I’ll be fine,” Severus insisted, the man asking Severus to remove his shirt so he could examine his chest. “I just need some rest.”

You were about to protest, to insist he let your father look him over properly, but you knew how tired he was, how badly he needed a good night's rest and for all you knew, his evident pain was all due to lack of sleep. Smiling at your father, you agreed with Severus, wanting to rest as well and put last night behind you. Your father reluctantly gave Severus a few painkillers before putting away his kit, realizing how hard of a day you’d both had and began to make his way out of the room. 

“We will discuss this in the morning,” he said, standing by the door. You nodded and stood to remove your shoes, socks and jacket, deciding to sleep in the clothing you had on and change in the morning.

“Goodnight,” you said, watching him leave you be and make his way across the hall to his own room. Looking back to Severus, you let out a sigh of relief, closed your eyes and tilted your head back. It was over. You’d made it. He was safe, he was home. 

Severus walked over to you and gently placed his hands around you, his touch feather light as you let the weight lift off your shoulders. You eased into him, returning his hug and you both held each other, engulfed in the silence; the beautiful sound of peace and freedom. You held onto the moment, smiling as you each leaned on the other, trusting one another. You couldn’t help but hum in delight, breaking the cherished silence between you.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice silky smooth, soft like the clouds in the sky. He was grateful for you, for everything you were to him, for simply existing. He’d spend the rest of his life trying to repay the gift you’d given him tonight, breaking him out of the chains that weighed him down his entire life. 

You snuggled into him, your fingers running through his hair in comfort, your face sore from smiling for so long. You loved him so much, your heart fluttering as you held him, thinking about spending your summer together, happy and safe. The events you’d witnessed yesterday, the way he was treated in that house was a nightmare you never thought he’d suffered through, his life resembling that of a prisoner than a poor Cokeworth boy living on the wrong side of town. 

Neither of you knew how long you’d stood there for, but when your legs could take no more, they walked you both to the bed, your hands interlocked until you managed to find your way under the covers. Like a moth to a flame, your bodies held onto each other tightly, your limbs tangled in one another, his face nuzzled deep in the crook of your neck, your lips pressed against his hair, taking in his scent as sleep welcomed you with open arms. It took no more than five minutes for you both to drift off, dreaming of your futures, the possibilities that awaited you, the mends that could be made with those you’d both said goodbye to long ago. Severus had closed the door on his past, his family, but you’d kicked open a hundred windows for him, opening his life up to so many opportunities. He was no longer tied down to live as the boy with massive piles of debt passed down from his parents, trying to work his way out of poverty. He was the boy with great potential, the boy with love to help him concur anything thrown his way. 

You wanted nothing but the best for Severus and the Sandman had granted you that wish tonight, your dreams filled with aspiration for him, watching him complete his Mastery in Potions and rise to be known as the Wizarding World's most successful portioner. He’d be awarded an Order of Merlin and you’d be there by his side to support him, always. You gasped in amazement at his achievements, gasped when he told you he couldn’t live without you, gasped on the day of your wedding, gasped-

When you woke at the sound of alarmingly desperate gasps, a sound like none other you’d heard before, like a wounded animal screaming for its life. Your eyes wanted to stay closed, to shield you from the horror of the real world. Go back to sleep, life was kinder in your dreams. Severus was gasping for air like he was drowning, unable to come back to the surface. Your body jolted up when you finally realized what was going on. 

“Severus!? Sev!” You sat, kneeling beside him on the bed, your hands cupping his cheek, hoping to wake him from this nightmare, that you’d both wake up perfectly happy again. His eyes opened the slightest bit before rolling back into his head again, his chest desperately grasping for air. “Severus please!”

Tears swelled in your eyes as you begged him, begged Merlin, begged the universe for this to stop. It was a dream, a horrible nightmare. It had to be, this couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. You were happy, you were safe, you’d saved him. No, no, no, no!

“Papa!” You shouted through your cries, your mind unable to grasp the situation, screaming at you. Your body tensed, your arms wrapped around him desperately. You could do nothing more than cry, to hug him, to shout and scream, your thoughts too scrambled to think to do anything else. 

Both your parents came running into your room, your mother turning on the light and your heart dropped as you saw the colour completely lost from Severus’ face. He was a ghost, a mere image of the boy you loved. Your vision blurred as your tears thickened, carrying every memory of him that flashed through your mind, every plan you’d imagined for your futures together. Your own throat closed up, no longer accepting air as you screeched lowly. Please.

“(Y/N)! Get off the bed!” your father ordered, but you couldn’t process his words, anything past the perimeter of your bed miles away to you. You couldn’t focus on anything but the state of your boyfriend. He was barely breathing, his eyes refusing to open, his blood no longer pumping through his body. The world was lost to your mind. You didn’t want to accept it, you couldn’t think that way, he was still here, he was still with you, he was still alive. 

You felt yourself being pulled back into reality as your mother hugged you from behind, dragging you off the bed. Your body was too weak to function, too focussed on the panic you felt that you fell backwards in your mother's arms, bring you both down to the ground as she held you, your tears falling to the floor as you watched your father take your place, tearing at Severus’ shirt to examine him.

“His lung collapsed,” your father stated so casually, like Severus was just another one of his patients, like he meant nothing to him. Your blood boiled at the absurdity of his words. How could his lung have collapsed? What had his father done to him last night? How had he managed to travel on the Knight Bus with you? Your mind burned with questions, your tears drying as your panic turned into rage. Anger covered up your fear, wanting to blame someone, to go back to Spinner’s End and make those horrible people undo the damage they’d done to their son. You struggled to keep yourself grounded as your mother slowly let go of you, your father’s words muted to your ears as he spoke.   

“Grab the car keys and call the hospital, let them know I’m on my way with an emergency patient,” he said to your mother who immediately ran out of the room. Her heavy footsteps echoed in our head, your vision finally returning to you as you watched your father pull Severus to the edge of the bed.  

“I-I can take him to St. Mungo’s,” you managed to say, finally grasping the situation and trying to think of the best way to help Severus. “They-they have better treatment, faster treatment.”

“It’s too far away. By the time we even reach London he’ll-” Your father shook his head as he slowly gathered Severus in his arms, lifting him off the bed to carry him out the door. He paused and looked back at you, seeing the pain in your eyes, the worry and sorrow. 

“He’ll be fine (Y/N). Just, go help your mother,” he tried to assure you, but his tone told a different story than his words. He was just as worried as you were and that frightened you more than anything. You let out a shaky breath, trying to push aside your despair before nodding slowly and turning on your feet to run over and grab the keys to the car, your father making his way after you with Severus. Your mum got off the phone just as you picked up the car keys and ran to unlock the car, following behind you in a haste. 

Tears returned to your eyes as your father entered the garage after you, Severus lying lifeless in his arms. Your bottom lip trembled as you pushed down your emotions, trying to stay strong for him. It would do no good to resume your state of panic, it would do him no good. You had to stay strong for the both of you. For Severus you would stay silent, you would hold him and cast every healing spell you could think of on your way to the hospital. You’d keep yourself from falling apart for the sake of his life, his future. You couldn’t let yourself mourn him because he wasn’t gone. He had an entire life to live and so you fought just as his body was fighting to keep him alive. Together you would fight through this, you’d survive and come out the other end stronger than before. You’d conquered over so much pain and agony within the last few years together, there was no reason for you to give up now. You were going to fight off death, win his life back and re-join each other on the other side of the battlefield, you were sure of it. It was love that brought you home tonight and it was love that would bring him back to you again. 

~

Next Chapter

~

@dracos-mudblood​ @darkthought15​ @severuslovebot​ @mitchiesdungeon​ @bush-viper-cutie​ @ravenhopeflyte54​ @wanderingtrails @sleepysnapesnake​ @lizlil​ @eave3​ @cuddlebunny0330​

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 20: Then Perish

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event​ Prompt: Then Perish (Part 1) Rating: M (violence, minor character deaths) A/N: We wanted to finish Jasonette July with a bang.  The second half will be posted tomorrow for the Saturday Challenge.  We’ve appreciated all your comments and kind words, we really do read every one. It genuinely means a lot to us and encourages us to continue writing together.  As a fandom you have been nothing but kind and supportive, and we enjoy bringing you fics great and small with a wide variety of genres, dynamics, and iterations.  Also blame DC fanboy for the memes in this fic. Marinette loved to travel, she had traveled all over the world from New York to Shanghai. Today, she traveled with her parents to Gotham City to visit her parents' friends, whom they had not seen in many years. Sabine was initially afraid to visit Gotham City, due to its crime rate and ever-growing list of criminals. Tom reassured his wife, saying that his big stature would scare any would-be criminal from harming them, that the trip would be short and they would visit Metropolis afterwards. Marinette wore the Ladybug Miraculous, just in case something were to happen. As the family got off the taxi at Park Row, everyone felt something was off. "Park Row really has...changed." Thomas muttered. Sabine held on to both her husband and her daughter, "I think we should leave." she said. Soon shadows began appearing around the corner, then came the yelling, and soon after came the gunshots. Thomas grabbed his wife and daughter and ran to find shelter from a hail of bullets. Marinette looked back to see many civilians, men, women and children caught in the middle of this gang war.  She needed to be a hero, her father could take care of her mother, she needed to save those in danger. She freed herself from her father's grasp and ran behind a corner, she whispered "spots on" and transformed into Ladybug. Diving and flipping across streaking bullets everywhere, she flung her yo-yo to drag any unfortunate bystanders into an abandoned building. While in a building with innocent civilians, she peeked her head out the window to see a monstrous man.  Wearing a blood red helmet and wielding two pistols, he systematically killed everyone before him. His flips and kicks were graceful yet brutal, the cries of pain and pleas for mercy made her shudder. She couldn't fight him, no, she was afraid to. It would be best to find her family, she did all she could and got bystanders to safety. She quietly transformed back into Marinette and went to look for her family. She ran back to where she last saw them, she scoured the streets shouting "Maman! Papa!" hoping that using her French would help her parents find and identify her. She soon ran into the Red Beast, as she began to turn and run back before she saw the two people at his feet. “<No, no no no, please god no.>” she whispered to herself, tears building in her eyes. There lay her parents, in a pool of their blood with bullet holes between their eyes. Marinette dropped to her knees, silently crying. The Red Hood either didn't see her, or chose to spare her and decided to walk away. Marinette ran to her parents, grabbing them both and shaking them. "<Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me>” she wept. Later, she was picked up by the GCPD. They escorted her on the flight back to Paris along with the remains of her parents. When she arrived, she was approached by the Aide Sociale à L'enfance (ASE).  They told her that she'll be staying at a nearby orphanage until after her parents' funeral. Then she would then be sent off to live with her only remaining relative, her Great-Uncle Wang in Shanghai. On the night before the funeral, Marinette was unable to sleep.  She curled her legs to her chest while she sat on the mattress.  She has spent the past few days researching the mysterious Red Hood, crime boss and self-proclaimed Prince of Gotham.  She read article after article of his meteoric rise to power, first conquering Black Mask, then The Penguin. Nightmares plagued her whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the Red Hood tower over her parent's lifeless bodies, covered in their blood. She was worried about being sent off to a foreign country tomorrow evening, while barely even speaking any Mandarin. All the while knowing that once she is on that flight to Shanghai, her parent's killer would without a doubt walk free. Morning comes, yet Marinette still thinks of what she should do. Could she really go to Shanghai to start her life anew, not knowing the language and allowing her parents’ killer to go on unpunished? At the funeral, while standing over her parents’ graves, she remained silent. The priest, ASE agents and her friends all came to pay their respects. Each of her friends approached her to give their sympathies, but she did not listen to a word they said. The Red Hood weighed heavily on her mind, and she made her fateful decision. To run, run and never look back. She had prepared a backpack containing the Miracle box with all the Miraculous, along with a few essential supplies and money. She turned into Multimouse to sneak on board a passenger aircraft to make her way to Gotham City.  Jason knew, better than Batman, that fighting crime sometimes meant getting your hands dirty.  What started as a petty squabble between two rival gangs grew into a bloodbath.  He missed Roy at times like these, Artemis and Bizarro were still missing, but he held out hope that they would one day return to this Earth. A teenage girl with an impressively sturdy yo-yo had burst onto the scene, trying to get civilians to safety.  He was a bit too preoccupied with the battle to get a good look at the girl.  Knowing Bruce, the next time he’d see her, she’d be under his wing.  Sadly, there were two civilians that neither of them could save, a large, burly looking man and a tiny woman.  The person who shot them with frightening accuracy had got away, moments later a teenage girl had arrived on the scene.  There was a brief flash of fear in her eyes when she saw him, and she would have just scurried away if only he hadn’t been at the very spot where her parents lay dead.  The girl was inconsolable as she fell to her knees and wept, pleading with them in French.  Red Hood walked away, thinking it would be best to leave her to grieve.  There wasn’t a whole lot he could say in English that would make her feel any better, never mind in French. He watched from a distance as the GCPD arrived to pick up the pieces, Red Hood watched from the shadows as police officers and an interpreter tried to get the girl’s side of the story.  From what he gathered, the girl’s name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her family owned a bakery in Paris.  Her next of kin was a relative in Shanghai, and it sounded like the best option for her would be to go and live there.   The plan was to ship her and her parents’ bodies back to Paris, and let child services take it from there.  He would have probably told her to get as far away from Gotham as possible, away from the clutches of a certain someone who was also orphaned in Crime Alley.  He saw her cradle what looked like a small pink doll to her face as she wept, before he turned and walked away. A week later, Jason had a break in the case.  This was all caused by some low-level members of the Falcone and Maroni families continuing their decades-old battle.  As far as everyone knew, the crime families swiftly executed the men responsible and went about their business.  Two crime families were unable to keep their lackeys in check, and now the people who weren’t lucky enough to be whisked away by Yo-Yo Girl, were now either dead or wishing they were.   He thought back to poor little Marinette, wondering where she was now. Bruce confronted him at the Iceberg lounge shortly after the incident, to which Jason explained that the perp had got away.   He had killed people before, and that wasn’t stopping anytime soon, after all it wasn’t that long ago that he tried to kill the Penguin.  “This may surprise you Bruce, but the Red Hood isn’t the only one who uses guns in Gotham '' he snapped.  There were some lines that even he did not cross, lines that he had drawn for himself. Judging by the accuracy of the gunshots, this was no accident.  Their daughter was probably starting a new life, probably on the other side of the world.  Still, he wished he could have said something to the girl, a simple “Hey, it’s gonna be all right” probably would have sufficed.  Little did he know that Marinette was making her return to Gotham City.  She would have her revenge on the Red Hood, and this time she had nothing to fear and nothing to lose. After her very uncomfortable 10 hour flight from Paris to Gotham City in the cargo hold, Multimouse quietly sneaked out of the crowded airport without alerting anyone. Marinette wandered around Chinatown, thinking of her next step. She was thinking about how she would have to go through the city with a fine tooth comb to search for a lead, likely starting small with his men in the streets.  Before she could put the earrings back in her backpack, Tikki begged her to reconsider what she was doing.  “Please Marinette, you need time to heal, to grieve,” she pleaded, but Marinette didn’t need the powers of healing, luck and creation. If and when she encountered the Red Hood, she wanted to bring him death, misfortune and destruction.  After all, that was exactly what he had brought her.  With a stroke of luck, she overheard someone getting a beatdown.  "You get your ass outta here, this is Red Hood's turf. If you wanna sell that shit, you gotta give the boss his cut."  Marinette whispered "Plagg, claws out" and transformed into Lady Noire, before sneaking up behind one of the Red Hood’s men. He released the person he was beating, and chased him out the alleyway.  She took this opportunity to swing her staff,  hitting the back of his neck and sending him face first into the ground. He immediately tried to stand up, as he stood on wobbly legs he took out his knife from his jacket. "Oh shit, Catwoman?!" he yelled. Lady Noire used her staff to sweep him off his feet and slammed her staff onto his face.  "Where is the Red Hood?" she growled.  "Screw you bitch!" the goon retorted. Lady Noire had a feeling that he wouldn’t tell her the location of the Red Hood, so she decided to try a different approach. "Fine then, why don't you give your boss this simple message…" Before she could finish her sentence, she heard the telltale click of a gun being loaded. She turned around and started spinning her staff, creating a grey shield to deflect the storm of bullets that were being fired at her.  She moved her hands at a rapid pace, and frantically pushed back against the hail of bullets.  As the bullet storm subsided she looked up and saw, up on the fire escape, was the Red Hood with an assault rifle. The Red Hood casually tossed his gun aside and asked "So, what's this message you have for me, Catwoman?" He gracefully did a forward flip and landed in a crouch.  "Wait a minute..." he said, the first thing he noticed was that this person was tiny, 4’11 or maybe 5’ on a good day. Her eyes were a bright acid green with dark slits like a real cat’s pupils.  "You're not Catwoman, you're too short to be her, for one thing.” he remarked “also she usually has a whip instead of a staff, who are you?" Lady Noire gritted her teeth, "You killed my family" she answered with a low growl. "Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down Kitten?" Red Hood's taunts made her snap.  She screamed "YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!" The Red Hood stared at her, as he crossed his arms.  "I don't even know who you are, what's your beef with me?" He asked, Lady Noire lunged at the Red Hood with her staff, she swung wildly to try and hit him.  He dodged most of her strikes with ease, “Is that the best you’ve got?  You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”  Where she might have lacked in skill, she made up for in determination.  She wasn’t pulling any punches, he had to give her that.  He caught the staff under his arm, and punched Lady Noire with his free arm.  As he went on the offensive, he slapped her staff aside, and came at her with a series of punches and kicks.   “So, what do you want Kitten? Money? Jewels? A very big ball of string?”  he joked.  “All I want is revenge,” she spluttered. “Get in line Kitten, you’re in the city that runs on vengeance” he retorted. Marinette was lucky that the suit gave her enhanced speed, strength and endurance. She always loved how the Lady Noire suit felt a lot lighter compared to the Ladybug suit. Though she shuddered to imagine what her opponent would do with this power.    He raised his leg to end his combination with a forceful downward kick, Lady Noire raised her staff up to a horizontal block to stop the kick. Upon contact with the kick, the staff split into two, and then Lady Noire launched into her counter attack. She was striking the Red Hood with a flurry of blows with both halves of her staff.  "Escrima sticks too? Looks like we have a Nightwing fan here” he smirked under the mask; this new girl was just full of surprises.  He brought his arms to the sides of his head in a defensive posture, blocking the onslaught of strikes from the escrima sticks.  Red Hood then grabbed Lady Noire by the back of her head, placing her in a Thai clinch. He launched a powerful knee to her face and sent her reeling back. He drew his pistols and fired a torrent of bullets at her. Lady Noire had to dodge, weave and use her staff to deflect incoming bullets. One bullet even grazed her cheek. She then pointed her staff at the Red Hood and extended it with so much force it slammed him against the wall of a nearby building. Without giving him any breathing room, she then retracted the staff. She launched herself towards him and then dropkicked his face straight into the wall. His helmet cracked against the tremendous pressure. "It's now or never” she thought, as she cast Cataclysm and swiped at one half of the Red Hood’s helmet. She saw the helmet dissolve and reveal the target beneath.  She noticed that underneath the helmet he wore a red domino mask, not unlike the one she usually wore.  She would have time to think about how overly dramatic that was later, as she used her other hand to pick up the knife on the ground that the other goon left behind.  She jumped on top of the Red Hood, “Now perish!” she cried out as she thrusted the blade towards the exposed part of his face. Red Hood recovered quickly and caught her hand holding the blade. As the two struggled for the knife, Lady Noire tried to swipe at him with Cataclysm again.  Suddenly, she felt the power of 50,000 volts coursing through her, as the Red Hood activated the taser hidden in his chest piece.  She powered through, running purely on anger, grief and adrenaline. She was only able to struggle for about a minute, before passing out from the pain.  Red Hood flipped Lady Noire’s unconscious body aside, before he took off his helmet to inspect the damage. "The hell?." he pondered, "So, indestructible staff that can do double duty as a shield, and the ability to disintegrate things with one touch. Let's find out who you really are."  He slowly stood up and looked down at her unconscious body. He tried to peel away her domino mask, yet it would not come off. He tugged on the mask, even to the point of lifting the unconscious girl off the ground. He released the mask, and let the body drop with a small thud.  The Red Hood began talking to himself "She either superglued the mask on or it’s something else. Considering all that she can do, I'd say 80% chance it's magic and 20% a lantern. Either way a 100% pain in my ass".  He heard a small beeping noise and gingerly lifted her hand up off the floor.  As it emitted black and green energy, he noticed that she had a ring on.  The beeping came from a small picture of a paw print, which was missing a few pads.  If she was a lantern, that ring was going to run out of charge any moment now.  He took out his phone and called the Iceberg Lounge. He requested that they send for a van to pick him up and his new guest.   He requested that the Su Sisters get her cleaned up and ready. He needed to find out who sent her and who she worked for. He took out the special handcuffs that Batman designed when dealing with metahumans. As he walked towards Lady Noire about to cuff her, he heard some more beeping, followed by a bright light surrounding her.  Her suit and mask disappeared, leaving behind a small girl in pastel pink clothes who was probably no older than 15 or 16.  Her long braid changed back into a couple of shoulder-length pigtails, and she had a pink backpack on her back.  Jason looked inside the bag, there were a few sets of clothes, a wallet and an antique Chinese jewelry box.  He wondered if that ring was just one of many tools in her arsenal.  Jason's eyes widened, he recognised her as the girl he saw a few weeks ago when the turf war in Crime Alley broke out.  "What’s she doing here?" he said to himself aloud, “ Idiot” he muttered. He remembered following the girl and her GCPD escort to make sure she boarded her flight back to Paris.  She was supposed to be with her remaining family. Yet she came back to, no, ran away to Gotham City.  All for revenge.  He checked her wallet and saw the name printed on it, he sighed, this just confirmed that she was the same girl. When she had her revenge, what would she do then?  He wasn’t the undisputed master of thinking things through, but even he thought she was a fool to come back here.  Gotham City didn’t have the best track record dealing with orphans.  He knew this from personal experience, but there was that time where many were rounded up and sent upstate to juvie, for the crime of trying to survive on the streets.  He would have been in the same position, had it not been for his own fateful encounter in Crime Alley. He shuddered to think what her other option would be in a place like Gotham City, becoming a Robin.  Part of the reason he wanted her out of Gotham was so that Bruce wouldn’t get any ideas about taking her in.  When the car arrived, he scooped up the girl in his arms and carried her towards it.  Marinette woke up with her heart beating frantically in her chest, the first thing she saw was a bright light.  She was dead, she had to be, the last thing she remembered was confronting the Red Hood and now he had killed her.  She slowly sat up, she looked down to find that someone had changed her clothes, she was wearing light blue pajamas.  She started to look around, to her left there was a large floor to ceiling window where she could see a city at night with bright twinkling lights.  On the table next to her was the Miracle box, she quickly grabbed the box and looked through it. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that all the Miraculous she brought with her were still there.   Suddenly, Marinette heard someone clear their throat.  At the foot of the bed, stood a rather large woman who had a bundle of clothes in her hand.  Next to her was a blonde woman with pink highlights who had a tray of food. “Oh good, you’re finally awake” the large woman said gruffly, she set the clothes down on the edge of the bed.  The blonde girl set a tea tray down in front of her, along with a couple of pastries.  Marinette’s heart sank at the sight of the croissants, they reminded her of her parents and their bakery. “Eat up and get dressed, the boss wants to see you later” the blonde woman told her, before skipping to the larger woman’s side.  Just as the two were about to leave, Marinette piped up, “Um, where am I?” she asked, “Who is your boss?” “You’re in the Iceberg Lounge in Gotham City”, the large woman told her gruffly.  “The name’s Suzie, this is one of my sisters, Candy. Our boss is the owner.”  Marinette gave an awkward wave as they left, and Candy returned it with a more cheerful one.    She took a bite out of the croissant, it tasted cold and dry. However, if she was going to defeat the Red Hood, she’d need all her strength. She put Plagg’s ring back in the box and reached for Ladybug’s earrings; she needed a new tactic.  When Tikki appeared in front of her, she also quickly looked around the room before looking back at Marinette with a concerned look on her face. “I couldn’t do it,” Marinette explained “he managed to stop me and I ended up back here”. Tikki’s eyes were sympathetic as Marinette held her closer to her face, “Are you sure you still want to go through with this?” Tikki asked.  “For now, I have to get changed and go upstairs to meet the boss.  Maybe he’s the one who found me after the fight was over” Marinette theorized as she gave Tikki the cookie from the tray.  While Tikki quietly nibbled at it, Marinette stood up and walked over to the edge of the bed.  Inside the small bundle of clothes were a simple white blouse and black skirt. They were a little big, she would probably hem it if she had her sewing machine.    Moments later, a tall woman with dark hair led Marinette into the penthouse, a large room with a desk in the corner.   A tall man in a suit stood with his back towards the door, overlooking the sparkling city skyline.  She slowly stepped inside, looking around the room as she walked towards the man.  “Um hi, who are you?” Marinette asked as she apprehensively walked towards him.  She couldn’t help but feel small in that grand high-ceiling room. “I am the owner of the Iceberg Lounge,” he explained. “I guess the question I should be asking is…” he turned towards her and Marinette saw he had a domino mask over his eyes and a red half mask covering his nose and mouth, “who are you?” He threw something at her and she caught it.  She looked down and saw the Red Hood’s helmet, half of it looked as though someone tried to tear the metal open.  Then she remembered everything she had researched about the Red Hood, and the fight that took place not long after she arrived back in Gotham. “You…” she hissed. To be continued...

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

Gender Thoughts Pt 1 and 2

The first time I put a binder on, a little under a week ago, I felt euphoric. Ever since I hit puberty very early on, I felt uncomfortable with my breasts. They never felt right on me, and even though I’ve come to love them sometimes, they still don’t always feel like they match up. I hated how people always looked at them, pointed out how much they showed in low cut shirts when I never even noticed they were--or even wanted them to. They were just there. I liked the way low cut shirts feel and look on me, I just can’t help these giant sacks of flesh that sit on my chest. 

Except...now I can! I ran my hands over my smooth chest, feeling bright. I looked into the mirror, and felt something warm wash over me. I put on my new masculine clothes, letting my partner clip on my new suspenders. I realized that I was shaking as I looked at myself again… I looked like a boy. I felt like a boy. Like a man. And I liked it. I wanted it. Admitting that to myself was like coming home. 

I remember being in sixth grade, walking around the track for my civil air patrol class. I had been slotted in with the rest of the girls, the boys walking ahead of us. I remember feeling uncomfortable being shoved in with only girls, and looking at the gaggle of boys ahead. The exact thought that whispered in my brain was “I wish I was a boy. I want to be like them, with them.” I never forgot that moment, and how strange it made me feel. How it was easier to shake that thought away, and dismiss those feelings. Except they never really left, did they? 

I remember sitting on my bed, crying with my best friend kneeling in front of me. I remember telling her how I didn’t like feeling like a woman all the time. That I wished I could be a black shadow, monstrous, androdynous. Specifically like Venom. She took my hand, did my makeup all in black and helped me pick out the perfect black outfit to achieve that dark, gothic look. I was so incredibly happy and validated. But I still felt like something was missing. 

I remember going into an Adam and Eve for laugh, not expecting much since I am an asexual with a low libido. I remember seeing packers and feeling my chest tighten. I never liked my genitalia--I had wished for a cloaca or something akin to that, but since that was biologically impossible for a human… I sometimes wished I had the opposite of a vagina. I frequently imagined what it would be like to have a penis. I frequently lamented the fact that I didn’t have one. I took the box up to the counter to ask some questions, my dress swishing as I went. The cashier told me it was for trans people only, and a girl like me couldn’t have it. She didn’t know what asexuality was, and had tried polyamory once but decided it was bad when her girlfriend kissed her boyfriend. I was upset, disheartened, and left the store empty handed feeling frustrated and lost.

I remember finally cutting the long, curly locks that had frustrated and imprisoned me for so long. Seeing all of my hair fall to the floor, staring into the mirror as the barber buzzed the back of my head… It made me want to cry tears of joy. It was the first time in my entire life that I had looked at my hair and was happy. The first time I could look in the mirror and feel like myself. Then I remember wanting to go shorter, and my barber encouraging me to keep it a little longer so I didn’t look manly, so I could still be soft and feminine. The way my stomach dropped and the sick feeling in my chest only increased when he began to make fun of the gay men who came down the street near his favorite restaurant. I never saw that barber again. I instead found a nice local place down the road from my apartment, where the kind lady cut it all off without question, other than “Why?” and accepted my warm “It makes me happy. It makes me feel beautiful.” 

But wearing that binder for the first time? It was as if a beam of light had funneled its way directly into my heart. I felt like a handsome man, with just a little bit of striking man boob, and it felt so right. My partner called me a dashing boy and my heart began to race. I still feel his hand tracing my jawline as he called me handsome, and the butterflies it sent up through my belly, even after more than eleven years. 

I love my partner--he identifies as agender and primarily masculine, and has been on the lookout for a good pair of size thirteen shoes to wear with a dress. They also wear joggers and flip flops and graphic tees and can’t seem to stop talking about the ocean and outer space. They’re probably one of my biggest inspirations for finding myself, and being authentically me. 

I’m not super sure who or what I am right now. I’m still figuring that out, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between agender and genderfluid. I feel like me more than anything else, but all pronouns make me feel good. I feel like all of them and none of them at once, but I swing between wanting to be feminine and masculine pretty strongly, though I enjoy being masculine most of all--even when I’m wearing dresses and pink. I feel like a beautiful person in a dress or a button down, no matter what gender I feel like today or tomorrow. 

I am me. And I am one dashing boy, and one beautiful girl. 

4 July 2021

XXX

Since first writing this little essay, I’ve been doing a lot more examination of my gender. I have come to the conclusion that I am transmasc and nonbinary, and am shaky on the title of genderfluid. I am feeling less and less like a woman--if anything, occasionally adjacent to a woman rather than actually being one. I love feeling like and presenting as a man. I have my first appointment with a gender services doctor at my local community clinic for consultation on starting hrt testosterone. I am planning to start with low dose first, and see how I feel. 

I am still unsure of my exact identity, but I have found great euphoria with being and presenting as a man. I love being a man and everything that entails. I have loved myself like never before. Being with my partner is amazing, and he has been endlessly supportive--even recounting little things they had noticed throughout the years. One of the funniest being that I only ever referred to my body parts--my belly, hands, hair, genitalia--with masculine pronouns. I always seemed to see my body as male even if I had a certain sort of dissonance from it. 

Coming out has been difficult. I have had both positive and negative experiences from it. I have been told going on testosterone would be self harm, and that I can’t be something I’m not. I’ve had coworkers I trusted out me without my permission. But I have also had positive affirmation, polite questions, and discussions. I am terrified to tell my mother and her boyfriend--I have no idea how they will react and am terrified that I will be disrespected and disowned. 

But I am prepared to do whatever it takes to be my happiest and most authentic self. 

I have been binding a lot more often, wearing sports bras for long shifts at work, and occasionally going without either when I feel like letting my man boobs hang free. I’ve had the delightful experience of going to a men’s big and tall store and finally wearing pants. I grew up as a fat girl and felt as if I had to perform high femininity to be taken seriously and be treated well--and had been told by someone I trusted that I was too fat to wear pants, which I heavily internalized. So I had completely cast them away in favor of dresses and skirts, bows and gaudy jewelry. Realizing that I could wear pants was...totally wild. That I could be comfortable and look good in pants and shorts, and that it didn’t matter what people did or thought of me was life changing. Maybe I’ll feel like being feminine again someday, but right now this masculinity and masculine clothing, with perhaps the added spice of funky earrings, feels like home. 

I also grew up autistic and with PCOS, both which I think have affected my gender identity. Being autistic, I truly struggled to connect to others socially, and especially to understand societal norms. Being a proper woman felt like I was making up for everything else I was lacking--I may have been awkward, semi-verbal and weird with no friends, but at least I was cute and girlish. I never connected to womanhood though, and always felt out of place no matter how hard I tried. With PCOS, I had heightened testosterone, which meant wider breasts and shoulders, a lack of periods, and excessive body hair. I recall the endocrinologist asking high school age me if I had excessive body hair around my stomach, breasts, etc. and my mother jumping to say no I didn’t...even though I did. I remember suddenly feeling very self aware and ashamed of something completely natural, and even something I started to enjoy. I started shaving my entire body then. 

I even remember being in middle school, and thinking nothing of my hairy legs. In fact, I loved my body hair and how it felt. A rude girl began making fun of me though, tutting her tongue as she cooed, “Aw, does your mommy not let you shave?” Among other things, all throughout many years of severe bullying and abuse. I remember feeling ashamed, but not knowing why, and immediately shaving my legs, covering them in nicks from my shaky and unsteady hands, that same night. 

So many things set me back in my gender expression. So many things contributed to me willful ignorance and denial. I remember wanting to be butch, and everyone in my life laughing at me and saying I was too soft for that. That sweet, sharp ache in my chest. I remember going to a salad bar with my mother, wearing a button up and telling her I wanted to wear some more boyish clothes around that same time--I had already told her that I was bi sometime earlier. I remember her lip curling, looking uncomfortable, and telling me that I better not become one of those boy girls. My late father was very vocal in denouncing homosexuality and specifically men loving men--something which always sat horribly wrong with me on a deeper level. 

I think I might ending up being a trans man. I am still unsure and figuring myself out, but I struggle greatly with the autistic need for sameness vs. the trans need for change. My sapphic love of women has always been very important to me, and fully becoming a man rather than genderfluid is scary for that very reason. I am still navigating my identity and what it means to me and my reality--but no matter what, being a man, being masculine is integral to who I am. 

I was called a “sir” at a job interview for the first time the other day, and nearly began to bawl from sheer joy. The gender euphoria from that and so many moments is worth so much more to me than the years of suffering and ignorance and my ongoing struggles with dysphoria. I finally got a packer and have had help from my partner in learning to position it properly--I am thinking of cutting my hair even shorter. I have almost perfected a pretty basic tie tying skill. Okay, not really, but I’m getting there. I feel deep inside that even though my father loved me, he would not like who and what I am. Still, I wear the last watch he ever wore, and hope to be a good man like him--and to learn from the toxic parts of him to be an even better man. 

I am very excited to start hrt. I am terrified of hair loss and vaginal atrophy, but I look forward to so much more. I cannot wait for bottom growth and body hair, for the voice drop that will hopefully get me misgendered less. I have always felt disconnected from my voice and look forward to getting to know it better as it changes with me. I look forward to meeting with new facial hair. Working out and growing muscle. I just look forward to my second puberty and becoming more like myself. I look forward to navigating and exploring my gender even further, both with loved ones, support groups, and myself. 

More than anything, I am just happy to be me. 

25 August 2021

[fandomstuff67]

Yesterday’s Silence NOW COMPLETE!!

Hey everyone! I have posted the first chapter of my next long Destiel fic on Ao3! It’s called Yesterday’s Silence and you can head to my Ao3 to check it out or read a quick preview below! 

Description: Dean Winchester is a struggling photographer who takes jobs everywhere he can. When he stumbles across a new flower shop on a street corner near his apartment, he is enraptured by the beautiful flowers outside. Drawn to their colors, he enters the shop to ask if he can take some photos, and is instantly intrigued by the owner of the shop, a man named Castiel Novak.

TRIGGER WARNING!: self-harm, sucidal thoughts, abuse.

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, photographer!Dean, florist!Cas, angst, meet cute. (full tags on Ao3)

Yesterday’s Silence: Chapter 1

Preview below the cut (bear in mind, this is not where the fic begins): 

Dean shifted his camera on his shoulder and then set off down the sidewalk. As he walked, he felt the warm summer air swirl around him and he took a deep breath, only to pause for a moment as he was overpowered by the sweet smell of flowers. His eyes searched for the source of the smell and it became apparent as he rounded the corner.

Baskets laden with flowers rocked gently in the soft afternoon breeze and Dean took a moment to gaze at them. He spotted roses, and sunflowers, but there were so many different kinds that Dean couldn’t even put a name to. He turned to look at the shop that the baskets hung outside of and saw more flowers sitting in an outdoor trough-like windowsill.

There was paint on the door that glistened in the sun as if it had been painted mere minutes ago. There was a drawing of a bee sitting on a flower and the yellow words painted beside it read: Mel Flora.

The store was clearly new, Dean had walked these streets for years and this shop had definitely not been there a week ago. He tried to remember if he’d seen it on his walk to the park, but he didn’t really pay attention on those walks, he just let himself walk blindly, trusting his feet to guide him.

He couldn’t help but look back at the baskets filled with flowers and suddenly he had an urge to photograph the soft yellow petals of the sunflower in front of him. But Dean didn’t want to be some strange guy photographing a bunch of flowers that didn’t even belong to him, so turned back to the door and once he made sure there was an Open sign hanging inside the glass, he pushed his way into the shop. A bell jingled at his entrance and filled the small quaint store with a soft note.

The store smelled strongly of flowers and Dean paused to take in the shop. There were flowers everywhere. Hanging from the ceiling in baskets like the ones outside, sitting on shelves, growing in corners, they were just… everywhere.

“Um… hello?” he called out to the seemingly empty room.

“Hello!?” came an excited, deep, voice in response.

Dean followed the sound of the voice and found himself at the cashier desk in the back of the store. A man stood behind it, dressed in a white button down shirt that was rolled up at the wrists, exposing his forearms, with a twisted blue tie that hung loosely from his neck. His hair was dark and ruffled, sticking up in some places but flat in others, and his skin looked perfectly tan. As Dean drew closer and let his eyes connect with the other man’s, he felt his footsteps falter slightly.

The full picture of the man behind the counter came into view as the blue of his eyes connected with the dark hair and the shadow of stubble lining his jaw.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to ground himself before he could say something stupid. “Uh, hi,” he said with a small smile, shifting his camera bag on his shoulder.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” the man asked with a smile,Castiel, his nametag read.

Castiel’s smile was bright and gummy and Dean felt his own smile grow. “Um, well, I’m not exactly in the market for flowers, I just…” he paused, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I uh, I have a strange request to ask.”

Castiel’s head tilted slightly to the side and his eyes furrowed into a squint. “What might that be?”

“This shop’s new, right?”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Yes, I just opened today.”

“Are you the owner?” Dean asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh, well, perfect. So, I’m a photographer and I was uh, wondering if maybe I could take some pictures of your flowers. I could send them to you and you could use them for a website or something, it might help you gain some publicity.”

Castiel frowned in consideration. “I couldn’t pay you or anything, the shop has hardly had any customers yet.”

“No, you wouldn’t have to pay me, this would be free of charge,” Dean said. “I just think your flowers are really beautiful and I want to capture their image, and I figured you could probably use the pictures.”

Castiel’s small gummy smile returned. “That’s very kind of you.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s nothing really, I’d be happy to do it.”

“In that case I’d be happy to oblige you.”

Dean smiled and gripped the strap of his bag tighter, just to have something to do with his hands. “Great, so, uh, maybe I could come by tomorrow and take some pictures. I can do the inside of the shop too if you want.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Dean nodded and began to back away. “Awesome, I’ll come by around noon.”

Without another word, Dean retreated before he could say or do something embarrassing. It was as the bell above the door was ringing out the singular note again, that he realized he didn’t even give Castiel his name. He couldn’t bring himself to go back inside just for that, so he opted to tell him tomorrow.

[skieswords]

Pull Through Part 1

Warnings for this book: Mentions of depression, alcohol and drugs, abuse and self-harming behaviours. Please do not read if any of these things will affect you, I have plenty of other stories on my page that are free from potential triggers❤️

Summary: Alex’s little sister Becca, is Sunset Curve’s number 1 fan. After her 16th birthday, her relationship with the lead guitarist becomes questionable, and she’s left trying to decide between following her heart, and respecting her brother’s wishes. Starts in November 1994.

Friday afternoons were always dull. Everyone's eyes were glued to the clock on the wall, heads slumped in hands, with the back row asleep save for one person. The only person paying any attention to the lesson was Gina in the front row, her comically large glasses falling down her nose as she scribbled notes from the board furiously. Becca tapped her foot absentmindedly, drumming her fingers on the desk as she stared out of the window. Her thoughts were on the essay she'd been issued last period, that she had no idea where to even start with. Was it on Shakespeare? Or the flaws in capitalism? Oh wait- that was what Mr Malcolm had told her would get her suspended again. She was jerked out of her thoughts by the scraping of chairs on the floor, and rustling papers as the class packed up and made their way out of the door. She sighed and pushed back in her seat, slinging her bag over her shoulder and trying her hardest to slink out of the room. 'Don't see me, don't see me, don't see me.' She crossed her fingers and prayed silently, ducking behind a group of girls, but her attempt to leave unnoticed failed miserably. "Rebecca, hold on a moment please." Becca cringed at her full name and turned to face her math teacher, false grin planted, eyes wide and innocent. "I wanted to talk to you about your math homework- or more accurately, the absence of it?" With an internal groan and a brief eye roll, Becca tried to formulate an excuse in her head, but failed. "Can I give it to you on monday morning?" Mrs Jacob, the math teacher, sighed, but nodded, a grim expression on her face as she turned back to her desk, waving Becca away. Breathing out in relief, she legged it out of the classroom. The corridor was basically empty now, with only a handful of stragglers hanging around, either for detention, or waiting for extra credit opportunities.

"Hey stranger, you coming?" Reggie appeared in front of her, guitar case slung over his shoulder, and hands in his jean pockets. Becca grinned at him, and searched her pocket for her locker key. "Two secs, got to grab my stuff." Reggie followed her to her locker and laughed as she opened it, revealing at least half a foot of paper sitting in a heap at the bottom. Becca shrugged and reached in, pulling out her skateboard. "Homework?" She scowled at him, shoving some paper into her backpack carelessly, and zipping it shut. "Alex told me to ask." Becca groaned and reached in to the warzone once more, pulling out her math textbook, before slamming her locker shut and stalking down the hall, Reggie following closely behind. "Who's driving today?" She turned to face him as they walked down the front steps of the school, face falling at his expression. "No, I'll get the bus." Reggie grabbed her arm as she tried to walk away, dragging her back to his side and shrugging. " He's not that bad. He needs practice, his test is next week." Becca groaned loudly, but continued down the sidewalk to where her brother's beaten up 1993 mustang sat, one headlight cracked, and scratches covering the doors. Alex had been given the car for his 16th birthday, and Becca suspected she would get something similar for hers. Although god knows she'd take better care of it than Alex did- his could easily pass as being 10 years old, not 2. "Hey trouble." His voice came from the driver's seat, and Becca bent down to lean on the window frame, her face blank. "Crash and I'll kill you." Luke grinned up at her, that ridiculous smirk that hadn't changed since elementary school, and she reached through to pull his beanie off his head. His smirk turned into a scowl, and Becca laughed at him, walking around to the rear of the car. The trunk was already sitting open, the boys guitars and school bags dumped among the empty water bottles and crisp packets. Becca dropped her own belongings in and slammed the trunk shut, taking her seat in the back beside Reggie. Alex turned to face her, pushing his fringe off his face. "How was math?" Becca shrugged and pulled one knee up to her chest, looking out of the window. "Bex. Math?" She rolled her eyes at him and groaned, throwing her head back against the seat. "It was fine. I've got homework." Alex nodded and reached into the footwell, tossing a can of juice at her. "I'll help you with it tomorrow?" Becca smiled and cracked open her can, taking a gulp and kicking the back of Luke's seat. He turned and glared at her, grabbing her shoe and tugging her forward, causing juice to splash up onto her face. They launched into a game of tug of war with Becca's leg, until Reggie leaned forward, and interrupted, pulling Luke's hand off Becca. "Is Bobby coming over tonight?" Luke shrugged and and turned back to the wheel, the car shuddering to life a moment later. Becca put on her seat belt and crossed her arms. "Hold on boys. This could get messy." She caught Luke's eye in the mirror and winked at him as he gave her the finger, before resting her head back on the seat, and tapping her fingers to the rhythm in her head, on the windowpane. He noticed, and smirked to himself, reaching over to turn up the volume on the radio.

When they pulled up to Luke's house, Becca noticed his knuckles turn white, as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. Opening the door and pulling his seat forward to let Becca out, he walked toward the rear end of the car and opened the trunk, frowning slightly. "Hey Alex? Could you uh, take my guitar to Reggie's tonight?" Alex sighed and nodded, taking Luke's place in the driver seat. Becca walked past Luke, who slammed the trunk shut a little too hard, making her jump. "Sorry Bex. See you tonight?" Becca smiled, waving over her shoulder at him. He smirked and bit his bottom lip, nodding his head before turning on his heel, and heading into the house. Alex started driving back to their house, tapping his fingers to the beat of the song on the radio. Becca started humming along, and he cranked it up a bit, whistling the tune through his teeth as they drove through their neighbourhood. Alex and Becca's dad was a lawyer, and their mom was a doctor, so they lived in a very nice area. They constantly made jokes about how their incredibly academic parents, a lawyer and a doctor, produced two delinquents. The gay drummer of a rock band, and a skater daughter, who flunked all but two of her classes. It was clear they were still hoping for clones of themselves, through their ridiculous insistance that they be called Rebecca and Alexander, names that both siblings despised greatly. This, and the constant pressure about college. They'd given up on Alex, because he'd already been contacted by a number of schools, wanting him for their music program, and he'd made it very clear that was what he was going to do. However, Graham, their dad, was currently on Becca's back because she was failing math, reminding her daily that she'd never make it to medical school with her current grades. "Ready?" Alex turned the engine off and got out of the car, walking around to the trunk. Becca followed him, picking up her school bag, and reaching out for her skateboard. She'd just grabbed the edge when the front door opened, and Graham appeared. Alex smacked her hand, making her drop it, and pushed the trunk shut quickly, stepping away from the car. He placed a hand on Becca's shoulder and gave her a push, sending her inside. "Rebecca, good day?" Becca nodded, and ran past her dad, head down. Alex watched her go and resisted the urge to punch the eldest member of the Mercer family, before locking the car and following her in. He heard her bedroom door slam shut upstairs, and sighed internally. "Hey sweetheart, how was school?" Alex walked into the kitchen and dropped his keys on the work top, running a hand through his hair. "It was good, mom. It still okay if I take Bex over to Reggie's tonight?" Julia smiled softly and walked over to Alex, reaching up to stroke the hair off his face. He towered over her tiny frame, 6 foot of blonde hair, sarcastic comments, and brightly coloured t-shirts. "Rebecca should study. You can go, but she's behind in school." Alex rolled his eyes subtly and nodded. "She won't study if I leave her. If I take her with me she can sit with Reggie's mom?" Julia considered this, and glanced around with a worried expression. "I have a shift tonight, and your father's gone out for a bit. Leave now, and as long as your both back by 10, you can take her. Make sure she works." Alex smirked, and grabbed his keys, before kissing her swiftly on the cheek and running up the stairs.

Becca's room was a soft grey, with one orange wall that had a large desk leaning against it, littered with sheets of paper. A black acoustic guitar, with a light coating of dust, sat in the corner, a red electric on a stand beside it. Another empty stand sat nearby. A Sunset Curve flyer hung above her bed frame, pride of place. Her built in closet hung open, clothes spilling out over the floor, and more hanging on the chair of her desk. Paper was scattered across her bed, Becca sitting up in the middle of it all, chewing her pencil. Her light brown hair sat in a bun at the nape of her neck, tendrils falling around her face. A knock on the door made her look up, and a pair of bright blue eyes met her own, as Alex stepped through the doorframe. "Leaving for Reggie's in 5, you ready?" Becca grinned,  jumping up and grabbing one of Alex's old hoodies from her closet. Slipping her feet into her converse, she looked up at her big brother, an innocent smile on her face. "Can you drop me off at the skate park?" Alex snorted and pointed to her school bag. "Not a chance. Grab that, I told mom you'd study." Becca rolled her eyes, but swung her backpack over her shoulder, throwing some of the paper from her bed into it. "Oh shit." Alex turned back to her with his eyebrows raised. Becca was pulling her glasses off her face, tucking the large black frames into her pocket. "Sorry. Now we can go." They headed out the door and down the stairs, Becca jumping on Alex's back when they reached the bottom. "Why don't you wear your glasses out? No-one minds them." Becca shrugged and rested her head on Alex's shoulder, only jumping down when they reached the car. "I dunno. They make me look dorky. Bobby's going tonight isn't he?" Alex nodded and turned the keys, the car giving a few shudders until it jumped to life with a roar. Becca groaned and threw her head against the head rest. "But he always flirts with me! It's so gross." With a surprised laugh and slight smirk, Alex started the well-known route to Reggie's. "He's been warned, but he tries to sleep with anything that moves." Becca raised her eyebrows silently, but snorted, and Alex realised what he said, his face flushing red with embarrassment and fear. "Uhhhh I mean, flirt. Yup. Totally didn't just make a sex joke to my baby sister." Becca laughed and punched his arm gently, kicking her feet up on the dash. "I'm not a baby- I'm sixteen in 4 days. And I'm only like a year younger than you." Alex rolled his eyes. "Maybe you need more help with math than we thought."   Becca looked at him questioningly, as he turned left, away from Reggie's. "Got to check Luke's not still at home. His folks won't have taken him." Nodding, Becca started chewing her lip and looked out the window. Luke was the youngest of the band, only turning 17 a few months ago, and was the only one who couldn't drive yet. The sun was setting, the November chill drifting through the cracks in the car. When they reached Luke's house, the front porch light was on, and they could see into the living room. The Pattersons were all there, Luke's arms outstretched. They couldn't quite see his face, but by the looks of things, they were arguing again. Alex honked once, and Luke glanced out the window. He seemed to shout one last thing, before running out of the room appearing at the front door moments later, that ridiculous grey jacket thrown over his arm. As he stalked towards the car, Becca noticed his tearstreaked face, and felt something wrench in her chest. She clambered into the back seat without argument, pulling her bag with her. "Hey man, you alright?" Luke sniffed and rolled his eyes, nodding at Becca in the rearview. "Hey Bex." She didn't say anything, smiling weakly and watching his reflection in the wing mirror. He rubbed his eyes fiercely with his fists, and started to bite the little nails he did have, his eyes wraught with pain and anger. Becca wanted to say something, but didn't know what would make him feel better. "Hey guys, can we get ice cream?" She leaned through the gap and rested her elbows on the seats. Luke turned to look at her, his green eyes rimmed with red. They made brief eye contact, and she gave him a soft smile, tilting her head slightly towards him. "We have to get to Reggie's though..." Becca looked at Alex with puppy dog eyes, and Luke leant forward to join her, sticking out his bottom lip. "You two will be the death of me. Fine, but we're getting for everyone." Becca and Luke's fists connected, and Becca felt a shiver go down her spine as a deep chuckle erupted from Luke's throat. She sat back, and watched out of the window as Alex drove further and further away from Reggie's.

"We brought ice-cream!" Alex came barging through the door of Reggie's garage, where Bobby was in the corner tuning his guitar, and Reggie was sitting on the couch, feet on the coffee table. "Hey man, running late?" Luke came through after Alex, dumping his guitar case on top of the piano and starting to unpack it. Reggie sat up and leant towards the ice cream bag, picking a tub out. "I thought Bex was coming?" Alex turned round and looked about him in confusion, rolling his eyes with a smile when she came through the doors dramatically. "She is and she did. Reg is your mom in? Or should I chill in the loft?" Becca came strolling towards the boys, empty handed, school bag abandoned in the car. "Mom's in, you can choose." Bobby put down his guitar, ran his hands through his hair, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey gorgeous." Alex stepped in front of him, pushing him back gently. "Hey. She's still underage, still my sister, and still totally off limits." Becca laughed and walked over to the piano, leaving Bobby to groan at Alex's insistance that Becca would never date. "Hey, can I take this?" Luke looked down to her, and the pile of paper in her hand. "Uh sure, what's it for?" Becca shrugged and disappeared up the ladder, leaving Luke watching her with a raised eyebrow. But he didn't have long to ponder what she was doing, as Reggie started tuning his bass, and Bobby sat back on the couch, still pouting after Alex's telling off. Becca took her seat in the loft, settling into a beanbag with her stash of paper. The loft was small, but she hung out here most nights of the week, so she'd made it comfy. One wall had a few shelves on it, with her favourite books and a few blankets stacked on them. A large stack of Sunset Curve CD cases were piled up in the corner, t-shirt designs crammed in a box next to them. And in another corner, tucked behind her beanbag, was her guitar. Becca unclipped the case and slipped the strap over her head, strumming quietly. The boys made enough noise that they wouldn't be able to hear her in the loft, but she was careful anyways. It was a secret, that she played. Alex knew the black Martin was a gift from someone, so just presumed his little sister was too polite to give it back, or sell it. The electric was Luke's, left there years ago, and never retrieved. She adored the beaten up Fender Reggie's mom had given her when she was 12, and didn't have any plans to exchange it. It was covered in stickers, and she'd re-strung it so many times the tuning pegs were worn. There was an entire corner dedicated to vans stickers, collected from the 4 billion pairs Luke seemed to own. Becca and her guitar had been through everything together. She'd fought with her dad just after Alex's birthday last year, and after ignoring her for a week, she'd found a gorgeous black Martin resting on her bed. It remained untouched, as she felt like it would be an insult to Reggie if she accepted it. Besides, her old one was perfectly broken in, and felt familiar and heavy in her hand. She noticed the floor of the loft was vibrating beneath her, Luke's chords biting through the air forcefully. He was clearly upset. Becca sighed, slipped her glasses on, and picked up the sheets of paper in front of her, scribbling furiously.

And you use your pain 'Cause it makes you you Though I wish I could hold you through it

She picked through a couple of chords gently, frowning when she couldn't quite work it out. It must've been hours, because the boys had stopped playing. Tucking her guitar back into it's hiding place, Becca reached for a notebook sitting on the shelf, and pulled it into her lap, rewriting the words next to some verses she'd come up with in the past.  "Hey Bex, Alex wants to go, you ready?" Becca jumped at the sound of Luke's voice, scrambling to hide the sheets of paper sitting in her lap. She must have lost track of time, or reality, because the garage was silent, and Luke's watch said it was 9.30. "Uh, yeh, two seconds." She stuffed it into her hoodie pocket, and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Nice glasses." Becca's eyes widened, and she pulled the offending articles off her face, stuffing them in her pocket alongside her music . Luke came all the way up the ladder, and crouched opposite her, looking over the various sheets of paper. An orange notebook lay open on the floor, and he picked it up, scanning the page. "Damn, Bex, you write?" Becca jumped up and grabbed the book, dropping it onto the beanbag and sitting back down. "No. I just get bored listening to your guys stuff, it's poems and stuff for school." Luke appeared to be holding back a laugh, and was looking at her in utter disbelief. He knew she was lying through her teeth, but decided not to say anything, choosing to sit cross legged and continue flicking through the assortment of pages laying on the floor. Becca watched anxiously, and started putting stuff away, making sure her notebook was tucked away safely on the shelf where he couldn't see. "Some of these poems are really good. You should try putting them to music." Becca snorted and snatched the sheets out of his hand. "Fat chance, I don't sing, and I don't play." Luke appeared skeptical, but he stayed silent, frowning slightly as he started to pile up the loose paper. "Anyway, as I was saying, your brother wants to go. And I'm staying with you guys tonight." Becca nodded, and climbed to her feet, brushing down her jeans. Luke started climbing down the ladder, smirking up at her. She rolled her eyes, and followed him down, hugging Reggie before walking out to the car behind all the guys. Bobby took the front, leaving Luke and Becca in the backseat together. It wasn't late, but she felt her eyelids drooping as the car purred along the darkened streets, and with the boys all totally silent, it didn't take long for her to drop off to sleep. Luke glanced down at her head on his shoulder and smiled softly. His jacket was sitting in his lap, and he gently swung it over her, before turning his head to face out the window, watching the houses in Bobby's neighbourhood flit by. When they reached his house, he turned to say goodnight to Luke and Becca, frowning when he found them both asleep, Luke's head now resting on top of Becca's. Alex turned round, and rolled his eyes, giving Bobby a light shove to get him out of the car. "Sorry dude, I gotta have her home by 10." Bobby sighed, but fist bumped Alex and got out. "Thanks for the lift bro, catch you later." Alex waved at him and drove off, heading over three neighbourhoods to his place. The driveway was dark, and he let out a disappointed sigh as he realised his dad was still out. Oh well, at least they could go in undisturbed. Luke apparently was awake, sitting up gently so as to not disturb Becca. "Wake her if you want, she'll fall straight back asleep when she gets upstairs. "Nah I feel bad. Want me to carry her up?" Alex raised his eyebrows but shrugged, pulling his chair forward to let them out. Luke slipped one arm under Becca's knees, and pulled her head into his chest gently, letting it fall onto him as he climbed out of the car. His jacket still draped over her, he carried her through the door, slipping his shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. "Where's her room again?" Alex locked the front door and came up the stairs behind them, his fluorescent pink socks padding quietly on the cream carpet. "Opposite mine, up the stairs." Luke nodded and turned left on the landing, knocking her door open with his knee. "Liar." He scoffed when he saw the silhouettes of the guitars in the corner, and set her down on the bed gently, pulling a blanket over her. Curiousity got the better of him, and with a glance at her sleeping form, he couldn't help but move to the desk in the corner, picking up a couple of the loose sheets sitting there. Pages and pages of writing stared back at him, clearly the work of an extremely talented writer. He peered over his shoulder at her, smiling when he caught sight of the moon lighting up her face. "Hey man, you coming?" Alex appeared at the door, jeans swapped for a pair of sweats and a sunset curve t-shirt. Luke nodded, and grabbed his jacket off the end of Becca's bed before pulling her bedroom door closed gently, and walking past Alex to his room. Alex came into his little sister's bedroom, and pulled off her shoes gently, closing her curtains so she wouldn't be woken up too early. If dad was out, chances are he wouldn't be back til tomorrow evening. She deserved some extra rest. Becca listened as the door clicked shut, and smiled to herself. The weak scent of Luke's cheap ass cologne, and something that was unarguably boy, remained on her shirt, and she breathed it in, closing her eyes, and drifting back off to sleep.

[liberty-barnes]

Letters To A Stranger

Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: The story of a girl who loved a boy, but couldn't talk, so she wrote.

Warnings: fluff for a bit, but then massive angst, and i mean massive, STOP READING HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT ANY SPOILERS BUT I WOULDN'T FEEL OKAY WITHOUT LISTING ALL THE ANGST FACTORS 

(mentions of ED, mentions of self-harm, implied character death, mentions of social anxiety)

Word Count: 1.3k words

Estimated Reading Time: 5 minutes

A/N: did you miss me?

Masterlist 

February 21st, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

Are you new? Or was I simply too oblivious to your presence until now? I've never seen you before, you're really pretty.

 I don't think I've ever used the word "pretty" to describe a man before. Well, boy, but my point stands.

But you really are. With your caramel eyes, and artistically tousled hair. You're cute. Kind of like a puppy. Not that I'm attracted to dogs, of course, but there's really no better way to describe you. Your face lights up when you talk on the phone, like an excited golden retriever who'd just been told he was going for a walk. I wonder who you're talking to. Is it your partner? Please, say you're single.

You get off after me apparently, so I guess I'll just keep my pining to my letters and hope to see you again tomorrow.

Kinda wishing I was yours,

Your secret admirer.

February 22nd, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You're back! Is this a simple coincidence or are you a regular? 

From the backpack on your shoulder, I'd say maybe you're a student. I don't go to school. You make me wish I did if only to see your face every day for more than the short ten minutes of our joint ride.

I wonder how old you are. You look old enough to be in high school, but which year are you? I know I'm only nineteen, but I'd feel a little bummed about crushing on a fourteen-year-old.

You're smiling again today. I'm glad. I don't see a lot of smiles at the diner. Mostly glares, impatient huffs, and tired, distant expressions. It's a nice change.

I have to go now but thank you for making my day.

Hoping to see you again tomorrow, 

Your secret admirer.

February 23rd, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I'm starting to think that smile is permanent. It's the third day in a row that I've gotten on the train and was immediately greeted with your beaming smile as you watched some video on your phone. It made me smile too.

Your sweatshirt's pretty. It says "Midtown Tech" on it. Is that a school? Is it your school? 

I may have to do some digging later.

Please don't think I'm a stalker.

Your totally not-stalker secret admirer.

March 1st, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I was late this morning so I didn't get to see you. My boss was not happy about it, I felt like I was walking on very thin ice.

And then this guy grabbed my ass while I was taking his order. I acted on instinct, tried to remember everything they taught me at my self-defense class. I ended up accidentally punching him in the face. 

So yeah, I lost my job today. Which is why I'm here so early. I might stay on the subway just to see which stop you get off on. 

Yeah, maybe not, that'd be weird and I should start job hunting as soon as possible.

Thank you for making me smile on a bad day.

Thank you for being you,

Your secret admirer.

March 17th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I got a new job! I'm working at this coffee shop/bookstore and it's honestly the greatest thing in the world. I get to be around books AND get free hot chocolate, how much better can life be?

You looked a little down today, I wonder if you're okay? Is everything well at home? Maybe school's the problem? Maybe you got a bad grade, but you look really smart so I don't know.

I hope you're feeling better tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

March 19th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I wish I knew your name, that way I'd know who to address this to. But I guess Cute Boy On The Subway will have to do. 

You were smiling again today, that's nice. I haven't seen you smile in a while, I was starting to get worried. The sweater you were wearing looked a little too big to be yours, the collar slipped down a little when you moved. It looks like there's a massive bruise on your upper chest. Does it hurt? Are you okay?

I wish I was brave enough to ask you in person.

Get better soon, 

Your secret admirer.

March 25th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You're back to not smiling today. I don't like to see you frown. Not at all. I want you to tell me what's wrong. I want to help you get better, see you smile again.

I want to talk to you.

I'll do it tomorrow, 

Your secret admirer.

March 26th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You were sad again today. But that's okay, cause I said I'd talk to you. 

Except I didn't.

My stomach started doing uncomfortable flips and I had to get off the train earlier than usual so I could throw up. It was not fun. 

Maybe I just have the flu?

Hopefully, I'll be better tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

March 30th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I've tried talking to you for three days, every time I had to get off and empty my stomach's content. I started to see a pattern so after a half week of that vicious cycle, I went to see my doctor.

Turns out I have social anxiety tendencies and you simply trigger them a bit. So, basically, my body won't let me talk to you.

I'm a little sad but also kind of relieved. At least I know I'm not voluntarily letting you slip through my fingers.

Not that I ever plan on doing that, you've become too important.

I hope you smile tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

April 7th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I'm worried about you. Your sleeve rose a little when you held onto the pole. There are scars there, familiar ones, ones that I recognize as scars left by one's own hand. Physical marks of a person's suffering.

Why are you doing that? It hurts to know that you feel down enough to resort to that. I want to help, but I can't bring myself to talk to you.

Please stop this,

Your secret admirer.

April 12th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

Your eyes were red today. You've been crying. There are dark circles under your eyes, how long has it been since you've last slept?

A lady asked you if you were alright. You said you were just a little tired. I've never heard a more obvious lie.

I wish I could talk to you,

Your secret admirer.

April 16th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

The dark circles haven't gone away, if anything they've gotten darker. But now there's a bruise on your cheek. You seem to be getting thinner too.

What's going on?

Your secret admirer.

April 28th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

How much weight have you lost? Your cheekbones are more prominent, and your arms are getting thinner by the second. Why don't you eat? 

The bruises are more frequent now. Cheek, eyebrow, lip... 

Who's hitting you?

Who's making you suffer?

Your secret admirer.

May 6th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I haven't seen you in a few days. I wonder where you are.

Are you okay?

I'm sorry, that's a stupid question, you probably aren't.

I've decided that next time I see you I'm gonna talk to you. Ask you what's wrong. Force you to tell me if that's what it takes.

I hope you're safe.

Your secret admirer.

May 27th, 2024

Dear Peter Parker, 

I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to talk to you when I had the chance.

I hope you're in a better place now.

I'm sorry you were alone when you did it.

I'm sorry you had to do it.

With love,

(Y/n).

yes, i'm one of those authors that post something an then disappears for two months, i'm sorry. i've been super busy with school and i haven't really had the motivation to write lately but i got this idea and i just needed to get it out.

also, i may be getting a new computer in like 1 or 2 weeks, so that's cool! it'll be better to write and stuff cause this one's getting kinda slow and sometimes it's hard to post stuff cause it won't load lmao.

anyway, i hope you liked it and if you did don’t forget to reblog/comment/like

love you all!

-Miah

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» 

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you) 

PERMA TAG 

@jeezkiddo​ @officiallyunofficialperson​  @beananacake​ @theunderlier @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @onebigolemess​ @samoney69​ @agirlwithpointlessideas​ @ddaawwssoonn​ @inhumanwithpowers​ @imagineshere-forall​ @stiles-banshees​ @orowit​ @spideynut​ @deathofmissjackson​ @parkersbliss​ @ephemeral-limerences​ @write-from-the-heart​ @cardboard-ben​ @my-alignment-is-bisexual @mendes-marvel​ @timotayswriter​ @inthecornerchair​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @niallssweetheart22​ @incorrect-things​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @harishaanne​ @ellamw04 @bisexual-disappointment​ @onelovesr​ @ellyseveronica​ @sovereignparker​ @notsosmexy​ @theamazingtomholland​ @lozzypoz321​ @peterspideyy​

PETER PARKER TAG 

@dreaming-lia @markleehee​ @juliebean247​ @quechulitaaa​ @bubblegumbarnes​ @sofiaconlaz​ @bellaaa321-blog​ @parkerpetertingle​ @emily-louise-hynes @clara-licht​ @ekelly2015​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @quaksonhehe​ @danicarosaline​ @tutuabby28​ @sovereignparker​ @spn67-sister​ @t-monosapiens-h @kayleypaige2233​ @galaxystern08​ @highlydisfunctional1​ @jillanaholland​ @zeusmyster​ @sirtommyholland​ @a-singleboat​ @allthisfortommy​ @middevil456 @kdotcxz​ @drishtisikarwar 

MARVEL TAG 

@dreaming-lia @emily-louise-hynes @arts-ismything​ @peachyafshawn​ @cathwritestragediesnotsins​ @spn67-sister​ @t-monosapiens-h @galaxystern08​ @highlydisfunctional1​ @jillanaholland​ @hyluas @ravenagrimes @captainbuckyy​ @kaylig02​ @crazyassbitch-things-blog @sharenaloveyouX @tacobacoyeet​ @andycanbeemotional​ @angelicromanoff 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey do you know any johnlock fanfictions, that are very slow burn and at first it's just sherlock being sad that him and john are never going to get together (maybe after the wedding or something) but have a happy ending? (possibly with 100k+ words)

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhh I like to argue that ALL my slow burn recs are especially painful, LOL LOL!! I didn’t have a lot of over 100 K ouchie-burn fics, so I’ve decided to quickly go through all my fics tagged “slow burn” and give you all the fics I KNEW gave me too many feels when I read them because of the burn!! So I hope that’s okay!!

And as always, Lovelies, I’ve certainly missed a lot of fics because of improper tagging or just too many sleepy nights skimming my bookmarks, so feel free to add your faves!

BURN SO SLOW IT HURTS

See also:

Love Confessions / Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. (Fluff Version)

Falling In Love / Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. || [MOBILE POST] (April 2019)

Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. / Falling in Love Pt. 3 (Nov. 2019)

Slow Burn / Dev Rel. Pt. 4 (Apr 2020)

Mutual Pining

Pining Sherlock || [MOBILE FRIENDLY VERSION]

Pining John

A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

You fit me, Sherlock Holmes by orphan_account (G, 10,077 w., 1 Ch. || It’s An Experiment, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Questionable Science) – An unfortunate series of events leads to John accepting being a part of Sherlock's study in physical intimacy. As the days pass by, John realizes he might be in for more than he bargained for. He doesn't entirely mind.

Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) (M, 10,862 w., 10 Ch. || For a Case, Gay Bar, Pining, Coming Out, Slow Burn) – Sherlock drags John undercover to a gay bar - for a case, of course - looking forward to seeing John flustered by their surroundings (since you know, he's NOT GAY). John decides that he has hidden both his orientation and his feelings for his daft flatmate for far too long. He is done hiding, time to be honest with his bloody best friend in the world. He just hopes it won't change anything between them. And then it does.

The Slow Burn by CaitlinFairchild (E, 12,097 w., 4 Ch. || Romance, Emotional Infidelity, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Fix-It) – John smiles, something small and private and for him alone, and Sherlock just...he knows. With a heart-stopping certainty, Sherlock suddenly knows. It feels like falling off the edge of a cliff. It feels like falling off the edge of the world. It feels like flying.

Merlot by Itsallfine (E, 14,844 w., 17 Ch. || Christmas, Pining Sherlock, Wine, Slow Burn, First Kiss / Time, Love Confessions, Wine, Holmes Family) – Sherlock and John work toward becoming something more as they prepare to host the Holmes parents at 221B for the holidays. Part of 25 Days of Fic-Mas 2015.

Pleasure to Burn by scullyseviltwin (E, 17,863 w., 1 Ch. || Firefighter AU, Firefighter John / Arson Investigator Sherlock, Slow Burn, Pining, Case Fic-ish) – “If you’d kindly stop knocking about in there and destroying all of my evidence, it would be most appreciated!” John groaned and for a moment rested his head against the side of the truck. Of course he was the only captain left on the scene, which meant he would have to be the one to deal with the arson investigator.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

The Sexual Awakening of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson by suitesamba (M, 24,579 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, H/C, First Kiss/Time) – Sherlock owes Mycroft a favour. Mycroft calls in that favor by offering Sherlock's consulting services in a charity auction. Sherlock and John soon find themselves at the country manor of Mrs. Ives-Patton Smarmington III - not very coincidentally a long-time friend of Sherlock's mother - where they are reluctant participants in her Murder Mystery Weekend. It's a play within a play for Sherlock and John, and their roles for the weekend event bleed over into their real lives, waking the sleeping dragons within.

Tomorrow's Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining, Jealous Sherlock) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w., 4 Ch. || S3 Fix It, Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance, Humour, Masturbation, Love Declarations, Bottomlock, Brief Suicidal Ideations) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Rel., Roadtrips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk. “Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

The Kissing Disease by cottonballz_of_death (E, 30,856 w., 15 Ch. || Sickfic, Angst with Happy Ending, Case Fic, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Jealous Sherlock, Body Image Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional H/C, POV Sherlock, Oral / Anal, Thong, Frottage) – John brings home a boyfriend, shocking Sherlock, who long ago gave up hope that his straight flatmate would ever take a romantic interest in him. In a bid to reconnect with John, he tries to infect himself with a "harmless" virus. Neither of them is prepared for the emotional fallout that results.

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching, Mycroft is Dying) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical.

Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein (T, 31,987 w., 11 Ch. || College/Uni AU || Professor John, Ph.D Student Sherlock, Pining John, Poetry, Falling in Love / Slow Burn, Light Angst, Happy Ending) – John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

Five Times They Kissed for a Case, and One Time They Kissed for Real by fleetwood_mouse (M, 32,406 w., 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.

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w., 5 Ch. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

LHR-HNL by scullyseviltwin (E, 35,066 w., 7 Ch. || Hawaiian Vacation, Post-TRF, Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Just Talk Already, Drinking, Mutual Pining) – In need of an endangered flora sample, Sherlock and John must make a trip to an unexpected destination.

The Boy Who Drank Stars by kinklock (E, 36,157 w., 4 Ch. || Howl’s Moving Castle AU || Witches and Wizards, Slow Burn, Magic, Jealous John, Happy Ending, Bed Sharing) – “I’m looking for a castle,” John informed the scarecrow. “A moving one.”Except that, as it turned out, it was not a moving one at all.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w., 4 Ch. ||  H/C, Injury, Slow Burn) – When John's left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she's about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.

Left by lifeonmars (M, 45,153 w., 9 Ch. || Magical Realism, BAMF!John, Slow Burn) – John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w., 68 Ch. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w., 12 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Case Fic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage, Angst, Anal, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Spas / Massages, Shampoo, Jealousy, Fake Relationship) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

The Norwood Love Builders by flawedamythyst (T, 47,798 w., 9 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Post TRF Angst) – Sherlock and John go undercover to solve the murder of Joanna Oldacre, but things are complicated by the many feelings John has been repressing in the wake of Sherlock's faked death and return.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

Triage by scullyseviltwin (E, 51,612 w., 14 Ch. || Character Injury, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Sherlock POV, Toplock) – Sherlock’s mind goes exceedingly, devastatingly quiet and gray-blank. When he speaks it’s through a thick haze, it’s through molasses, he’s so disconnected from the words that it may as well be the unconscious shooter speaking.

In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w., 12 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator, Closeted Bi John, Angst, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, First Time, John’s Blog / Epistolary, Selective Mutism) – John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing...and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes... and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they're both so very, very rubbish at talking.

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w., 14 Ch. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings, Bossy Bottomlock) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family's private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it's time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w., 26 Ch. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) –  Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w., 2 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it's all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (E, 62,006 w., 25 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || First Person Sherlock POV, Pining, Angst, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Sherlock Learns About Himself, Happy Ending) – Sherlock struggles with his feelings for John, makes a mistake, and learns just how important he and John are to each other. Non-BBC Mary / John, but it’s a *complicated* relationship.

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w., 17 Ch. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) –  John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Autistic Sherlock) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 97,884 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w., 71 Ch. || Future AU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say:Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

Eyes Up, Heels Down by CodenameMeretricious (E, 107,845 w., 43 Ch. || Sports Equestrian AU || Fluff, Angst, Humour, Rider!Sherlock, Groomer!John, Show Jumping, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) – Sherlock is a top eventing rider currently training at Baker Farms. John is the new groom who's been told to steer clear of the surly rider and his horses. Part 1 of Baker Farms

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w., 215 Ch. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Colors by Quesarasara (E, 140,537 w., 17 Ch. || Pleasantville-Inspired AU || Soulmates, Colour Bonds, Alternating POV, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Case Fic, Medical Procedures) – Everyone on earth is born with eyes that see in black, white, and an endless series of greys. When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color. We're all searching for the person who brings color to our lives. John and Sherlock are no exception. Part 1 of The Colors 'Verse

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

How to Build a Heart out of Ashes by Teumessian (E, 144,931 w., 31 Ch. || Changeling AU || Slow Burn, Drug Use, Mentions of Child Abuse / Bullying, Mentions of Student/Teacher Relations, Uni-Age) – In an AU where a small number of the population become Changelings at a young age, at 17 John Watson believes he's destined for Normal life but then the Change takes him and he is sent to the Baker Institute. There he meets Sherlock Holmes.

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w., 83 Ch. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl -- but cannot be ignored. Oh, and...porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.