#cw self-esteem issues

[aannonn]

I FINALLY FINISHED ITT LETS GOOO

(to anyone who wanna read it on ao3 instead! ><)

not-actually-so-funfact; my computer started to burn in the middle of the translation :D (im brazilian so i write my fics in brazilian before translating them to english- xd)

anyways!! hope u enjoy the read just as much as I did while writing it! <3

- , "Ruined. All Ruined."

(updated/fixed) Tags ;

Rating : Teen and Up Audiences Warning : Graphic Depictions of Violence Tags#1 : rated t mainly because of the swears // violent thoughts // threats of violence // whump // self hatred // self depreciation // self esteem // self esteem issues // angst // angst and feels // heavy angst // hurt no comfort // emotional hurt // crying // selective mutism // talking in musical notes Tags#2 : hurt/comfort // comfort // emotional hurt/comfort // emotional // inner dialogue // minecraft mechanics // neurodivergent // {not exactly the focus but y'k- its there} // author is projecting

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Ruined.

All ruined.

   Green sat on his bed, the tie tied carefully around his neck crumpling from the tightness of his knees being hugged close to his chest. A crumpled tie was certainly not something he would take lightly, and he would quickly fix his posture so he could tidy it up and leave it the way it was before, perfect as it should be. But- honestly? Green felt no motivation to do so right now.

   He doesn't understand what he did wrong. Did he prepare too much? Did he create a lot of expectations? Did he let his anger and arrogance get the best of him again?

   Everything seemed perfect, everything was perfect, but then that silverfish suddenly emerged and, in the blink of an eye, everything around him seemed to be shattering; All the months of planning and preparation and so, so many songs he wrote and scratched because none of them felt perfect enough felt like they had been stepped on, crushed and thrown into lava, slowly burning right before his eyes.

   Is not fair. None of this was fair. He worked so hard to get to this moment, to improve his musical skills and impress an entire audience with his music, his passion. His friends, friendly acquaintances - everyone he knew was there - even Orange was there! They were all there for the concert, for the performance, for him.

   He felt like he was on cloud nine, happily boasting about the praise and applause floating around him like birthday confetti, roses being thrown at him as a sign of love and admiration - His friends and family were congratulating him and looking at him with so much admiration and love and affection for his amazing and so well-planned, so well-done, so perfect performance.

   He felt so adored, like the celebrities he saw on YouTube, being praised and complimented and talked about by many, many people, with so much admiration and adoration in their voices when talking about them. He felt so envied, as if several people adored him so much that they wanted to have his talents, they wanted to be him. He felt so loved, friends and family being so proud of him that he felt himself laughing happily, smiling so big that his cheeks hurt.

   ...Then a silverfish rised onto the stage, stepped on his noteblock, and the adoring, gazing eyes of the crowd - of his friends - were on the mob, and suddenly it seemed like it wasn't his concert anymore, but rather a random silverfish who just invaded the stage and stole his place, his audience, his moment.

   Green clenched his fists, bringing his knees even closer and crumpling his tie even more; Is not fair. None of this is fucking fair. He worked so hard for this, he worked so long for this, and now it's all ruined. Everything is ruined.

   The audience applauded and the show was a success, but the silverfish was the one in the spotlight; It was what was being boasted about, congratulated, adored, happily applauded for its' incredible performances.

   Meanwhile, Green was collapsing in pain in the middle of the stage and suffering from a horrible concussion.

   He felt humiliated, awfully humiliated. Shame, disappointment, and anger flooded his entire being, and the moment he woke up in his room, in his bed, with an ice pack on his head and a potions kit right on his desk, the only thing he did was have a staring contest with the ceiling with hazy eyes, his mind was a complete fog as he felt himself swinging his leg from side to side, jiggling it repeatedly distractedly.

   They cheered, the audience cheered, his friends cheered, but none of the cheers and joyful whistles were directed at him, as if the show had never even belonged to him in the first place.

   Green clenched his fists so tightly that he felt the faintest hint of blood coming from his palms, tears stinging his eyes distressingly, falling and spilling and wetting the mattress like rainfalls.

   Small bubbles appeared in his throat and made him let out soft sobs while small melodic notes came out of his mouth, making unbearably unpleasant and hostile noises, seeming as if a million instruments were being played at the same time, forming a loud and unpleasant noise for the ears. Fortunately the canorous notes that came out were small and therefore you wouldn't be able to hear them properly if you weren't close enough to his face.

   He felt so pathetic, so ridiculous. It wasn't even that bad; Everyone in the audience loved and genuinely enjoyed the show, his friends even formed a band and Orange finally played the electric guitar he had after years of not even touching it! So why was he so sad? Why did he feel like his entire world had just collapsed? Why did he feel so angry at the silverfish that only wanted to play with him?

   Because he was so selfish. So selfish and arrogant the little musician.

   He wanted to pull his head off, his stupid head with a stupid brain that only knew how to think about itself - He wanted to find that stupid silverfish and sink the tip of the diamond sword at its' stomach, jab it and stab it and all over again until all that was left of the mindless mob were little white clouds signaling its permanent death.

   He wanted to punch himself, spank himself - He wanted to be vengeful, he wanted to scream - He was so angry at himself, so angry at the silverfish, so angry at his brain, so angry at his feelings, so angry at his friends who didn't even try to help him get the silverfish off the stage and bring everyone's attention back to him, so angry at the world that was never merciful to him, hurting him again and again and again and again and again and again like a fucking punching bag.

   He wanted to isolate himself from everything and everyone to show the world how fucking angry and tired he is right now. He wanted his friends to invade his room to shower him with love and affection, hugs and apologies and promises that they would take better care of him, that they would never try to hurt him again, that they would never let the world hurt him again.

   He wants the world to burn, he wants the world to hold him like a baby.

   He's so selfish. Selfish and arrogant little adorable musician.

   His mind was a fog full of thoughts as his emotions took control, his body swayed slightly from side to side like a mantra, all of this making his brain unable to register the sound of footsteps approaching his position on the bed or even extra weight being added to the green mattress.

   Green jumped when he felt a hand holding his arm gently, rocking his body serenely and distracting his mind from thoughts for a few brief moments. He still didn't take his face off his knees, but he didn't take the hand off his arm either.

   Faint sobs and small musical notes echoed through the spacious house, the fog of dark thoughts in his mind gradually fading until all that was left were just faint sobs and dry tears gracing his face, a few tears still running down his chin towards the bed, small drops of water, some already old, wetting the mattress.

   He didn't register and didn't want to register how long it had been since he and the familiar but currently unknown stickfigure had been sitting on the bed. The stickfigure just rocked him calmly and slowly, distracting him from his thoughts that only got darker and darker, while also giving him time to calm down at his own pace, which Green deeply appreciates.

   Eventually, his breathing seemed to have finally eased and he opened his eyes, raising his head slowly and groggily, somewhat destabilized after the horrible mental breakdown he had just had.

   Yellow's composed and slightly worried face greeted him, the gentle movement of his head cooled off the nervous spasms he felt in his body after his brain had correctly registered the pathetic and disappointing scene he had just made, right in front of one of the last people he wanted for to see him in this state.

   Yellow remained quiet, his hand still on Green's arm as he continued to rock him gently, his movements filled with nothing but pure affection and concern for him. For Green.

   Green raised his head groggily, feeling light bubbles rising in his throat again and a new spiral of crying emerging before he pushed it back by force, several carefully chosen words in his head ready to start a conversation and break the suffocating silence, even though none of them had any actual desire to actually produce real sounds.

   He coughed, a hoarse, noisy wet cough, taking a deep breath - with some difficulty - before merely forcing a sound out of his throat, words in his mind all jumbled together - he just wanted to break the silence, a silence so quiet and still and suffocating.

   - W.. what." His voice was hoarse from crying and small musical notes were muddled with the words, making the words that came out of his mouth a confusing cacophony of sounds and verbs without a correct direction.

   Yellow patted his free hand on his knee nervously, whispering softly; - I just wanted to check up on you."

   Green no longer felt any motivation to actually form words and say them out loud, so he just shook his head sharply and pushed Yellow's hand away from his arm, a small musical note faintly leaving his mouth; a twisted, angry, broken sound.

   Go away.

   Yellow quickly understood the message the older one wanted to convey and tapped his hand on his knee nervously again, a slight, almost imperceptible movement of his shoulders lowering in defeat before he stood up and walked to the door, his steps light, but steady, echoing in the now empty space; where a single green stickfigure sat on his own bed of the same color, hugging and consoling himself from the world that only knew how to hurt. The only sounds that could be heard were his own whimpers and small melodic notes that the form curled up like a ball of the arrogant little musician emanated.

   It's so quiet. The world seemed so much lonelier and more dangerous when it was quiet.

   It's just him, and the world that hates him.

.

.

.

.

   At some point in his breakdown; round two(2), Green fell asleep; spilled tears still dripping onto the mattress while light, dry remnants clung to his cheeks. Honestly, Green isn't sure if he actually fell asleep, all he remembers is that his perception of his surroundings was momentarily desensitized and he found himself lying in his bed, a pair of hands on his shoulder shaking him with enthusiasm to side to side, presumably being the reason why his brain seemed to have regained awareness of his surroundings when he felt a sudden and unexpected physical contact stirring him impatiently.

   Red's excited and unbearably happy face was what greeted him this time, determination and enthusiasm adorning his movements as he continued to shake him the way he normally would when he had done something cool and desperately wanted to show to someone.

   Noticing the slight movement of Green's head moving towards him, Red let go of the shorter stick's right shoulder and jumped back, his arms bobbing up and down happily before grabbing Green's hands and pulling him in a way so that he was now sitting on the bed, relinquishing him and quickly rushing to the door, giving him one last look (still jumping up and down and waving his arms happily) before jumping out of the house, his steps happy and hurried resonating even outside the household.

   Green just stared at the door now open to him, not moving a single inch to follow Red to wherever the latter wanted to show him, an internal debate in his head with the decisions he could make.

   Getting out of bed, let alone walking to the door, seemed like a challenge. His body had little to no motivation to exercise and his head was still a fog that momentarily distracted him from his surroundings. He really didn't want to get up.

   But there would be no more silence if he did. The world would no longer seem so dangerous and immense for him if he went outside.

. . .

   Green sighed, staring at the floor for several long moments before merely forcing his body to stand, stumbling a bit in disorientation after sitting for so long, before practically dragging himself to the door, his slow, sloppy steps echoing through the silent residence.

   The entire time he walked towards the open door, Green stared at the ground, absentmindedly counting the pixel particles of the blocks he passed in his mind.

   He really had no desire to do anything... But the silence he was in was too suffocating and oppressive for him to bear.

   As he walked, Green quickly noticed that the light gradually dimmed with each new block, getting darker and darker until he couldn't even see the color of the staircase.

   Green took his eyes off the floor and raised his head, noticing how the computer's lighting seemed to have suddenly faded, enveloping both him and the programs and the PC's characteristic background in immense darkness - Much like when he himself removed the brightness of the computer to blast his latest music at that time.

   Green straightened up, feeling goosebumps all over his body as he took his cell phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight, quickly taking out his diamond sword from his inventory and holding it tightly, keeping his guard up for any possible mobs or whatever it was that could suddenly jump on him.

   He slowly descended the steps, his steps light and careful as he illuminated the darkness around him and kept his ears open for any sign of movement or noise.

   He wonders where his friends are...

   Suddenly, red and orange and yellow and green and blue lights illuminated the computer and momentarily blinded him, causing him to stagger back in fright and throw his sword and cell phone into the air before quickly grabbing the sword in alarm, pointing the sharp tip towards the light source as he vaguely registered the sound of his cell phone falling to the ground with the flashlight still on.

   A stage - his stage - his concert stage - greeted him back, colorful lights enthusiastically illuminating the center of the stage, where stood his dearest friends that he had known for as long as he could remember.

   Friends who also just watched as his concert was ruined by a fucking silverfish.

   Green shook his head sharply to dispel that thought, slowly lowering his sword as he quickly settled down, no longer feeling the impending danger scratching the back of his neck, though that also didn't mean his irritation had disappeared.

   He simply stared at the four(4) stickfigures on the stage, irritation was obvious in his movements as he gave them the silent treatment.

   Blue clasped his hands together nervously, Red dragged his feet on the floor without looking at him while Orange shifted uncomfortably; The only one who seemed more balanced and stressless of all was Yellow, although Green could detect a slight touch of nervousness in the movement of his shoulders.

   None of them said or made any movement as an indication that they were going to break the silence, Green just stared at them demanding an explanation while the others just moved and looked at each other nervously.

   Blue turned to Red, grabbing his shoulder before pushing him forward. Red stumbled before immediately shaking his head roughly and pushing Blue forward, to which Blue grabbing Orange's hand and pulling the shortest one in front of him, pushing him nervously to be in Green's gaze. Orange looked back and forth between Blue, Red and then Green, staring at the ground while rubbing his arms nervously, before finally taking a single step forward before Yellow suddenly stopped him by grabbing his shoulder and pointing at himself, to which the youngest nodded in thanks and quickly went to Red's side.

   Yellow took a deep breath, only taking three steps forward before finally breaking the silence, his voice a soft whisper with varying degrees of guilt and apologetic tone emanating from it.

   - We're sorry."

   Green bounced in surprise, confusion adorning his movements.

   At the sound of Yellow's voice, the other three(3) seemed to find courage and quickly echoed their own apologies with equal degrees of guilt and apologetic tones, a cacophony of voices over one another as they made several sudden and clumsy movements.

   - We had fun but you didn't have fun and that wasn't- It wasn't what- It was not cool. Nothing cool."

   - We're really, really sorry- The show was horrible- It was horrible to you- It was scary, wasn't it? It was terrifying... We laughed but- And- We didn't even think how hurt would you be..."

   - We didn't try to help you when you needed it most, and we completely understand if you- How angry you might- How angry you are and we won't force you to forgive us or anything-"

   Sincere. Genuine. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Don't forgive us. You don't need to forgive us. We are really sorry. We will take better care of you.

   Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry-

   - So we thought about- Ah. To repair. Give you the concert you truly deserve."

The firm tone emanating from Yellow's voice quickly interrupted the fog that was beginning to form in Green's head, turning his head towards him to realize that the taller one had raised his hand and stopped everyone from continuing with the cacophony of voices. Of I'm sorrys. Of apologies-

   Oh wait.

   Oh. Oh.

   The stage was for him?

   - I know nothing will fix the damage that silverfish caused- The damage we didn't even try to cease- But." Yellow paused, clasping his hands and fidgeting nervously in his seat before taking a deep breath and continuing; - That's- The concert really mattered to you, so. We wanted to- Give you a chance to- A second chance to. Show to the world-

   - The world being us."

   Yellow elbowed Red. - Your performance. And just your performance only. No silverfish to take your place."

   The stage was practically the same as the show, although it was significantly reduced to fit the computer and not cover the entire space to the point of being almost claustrophobic.

   The instruments from before - from the villagers who agreed to help him with the concert - were not there, just the blocks and noteblocks that had been used previously in the concert. On his concert.

   It was his show. It is his show.

   The stage is his. The performance is his. The audience is his.

   Green just stared at the stage, then at the instruments, then at his friends.

   Millions of emotions flowed like musical notes, the fog in his head forming like fluffy, adorable clouds, and suddenly he felt an immense urge to jump and bounce and play and scream and stim and-

   A single musical note, so small and confused and twisted and broken - yet joyful and hopeful and excited and free - floated from his mouth, the harp-like sound echoing so low that Green is sure none of them would have heard it if the room was not in a complete silent.

   For me?

   Yellow tilted his head gently, Blue touched his hands like he always does when he's excited, while Orange nodded and Red happily waved his arms up and down, encouragingly signaling the older one to come on stage.

   For you.

   Green timidly walked to the stage, Blue and Red quickly helped him by grabbing his hands and pulling him up, Orange walked towards him and gently pushed him to the center where the noteblocks were carefully placed in a way that formed a piano, patting his back in encouragement before going to join Red and Blue on the chairs in front of the stage, sitting right next to Red who was resting his parrots on his shoulders.

   Yellow had the staff in hand, placing his hands on his hips in a sign of lighthearted annoyance, confusing Green momentarily before realizing that the taller stick was looking at the crumpled tie with small traces of dried tears.

Oh.

   Green looked down at his shabby tie, dismay filling him at how careless he had been with his beautiful tie, before perking up when yellow hands suddenly grabbed his tie by the ends and stretched it, trying to straighten it back to the way it was before. Finishing, Yellow walked away and placed his hands on his hips as a sign of pride, while Green just stared at his tie, now even more messy and shabby than before.

   Such a mistake like that would freak him out, reprimand the causer and quickly fix the damage done.

   Now, somehow, he found no reason to care.

   It was perfect. It is perfect.

   Green took the staff extended to him with such delicacy and care, as if the staff would break with a single sloppy touch, holding it close to his chest like a plush.

   Yellow patted his head, touching his forehead to Green's in a tender and gentle manner, before retreating and getting off the stage, sitting right next to Blue and putting all his attention on Green, on the show. On Green. On the performance. On Green.

   All eyes and heads were on him, all attention was on him and him alone.

  Playing his slightly altered melody as he now played solo, he felt on cloud nine. Gloatingly boasting of the enthusiastic applause and whistles of his beloved audience, who adored every performance he performed no matter how imperfect they seemed to him. Of his friends, who would always be there welcoming him with open arms and would help him in any way they could. Of his family, who adore him and love him so, so much.

   It was perfect. It is perfect.

   He is adored. He is accepted. He is loved.

   He always was. And he always will be.

.

.

.

.

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[abubblingcandle]

Augusnippets Day 30 - Self Harm - Ted Lasso

cw - self harm, self esteem issues, self harm through overworking

Chapter 5 of Lingering Rules

“It’s his prerogative if he wants to get a little extra work out in,” Ted shrugged, and kicked his feet up onto the desk. Ted was right, but Beard was too. Roy couldn’t look away from Jamie, straining and pushing his body to the limit on a random Tuesday. “I think he’s hurting himself,” Beard added and the temperature in the room plummeted.

Here on AO3 @augusnippets

“We need to talk about Tartt,” Beard stated, closing the door to the office behind him.

“What’s the little prick done now?” Roy sighed, leaning on the door frame between the two offices. He scanned out into the changing room where the team were getting changed ready to head home. Jamie’s spot on the bench was empty. His bag was still there.

“He’s still in the gym, on the bike,” Beard crossed his arms over his chest and nodded to the window looking into the gym behind them. Jamie was still going, on his own and in silence. Sweat was beading on his neck and he was flushed with exhaustion in a way that Jamie never usually was. They had finished in the gym about twenty minutes ago and this was not a cool down cycle in any way shape or form.

“It’s his prerogative if he wants to get a little extra work out in,” Ted shrugged, and kicked his feet up onto the desk. Ted was right, but Beard was too. Roy couldn’t look away from Jamie, straining and pushing his body to the limit on a random Tuesday.

“I think he’s hurting himself,” Beard added and the temperature in the room plummeted.

“Coach that’s a large thought to throw out into our little pow pow here. To me Tartt looks like he’s doing just swell. I don’t think an injured man could even try the feat of endurance he seems to be going for,” Ted hummed.

“I don’t think he’s hurt but I think he is trying to hurt himself. He’s been putting in about twice as many hours as everyone else since the Blackburn game and that’s just the hours here.”

The Blackburn game was a shit show. The bus broke down on the way to the game. No one played their best. Colin ran into Jan and very much lost that encounter. The sole of Dani’s boot just came off despite being a new pair. It was a complete clusterfuck and somehow they were drawing nil nil at the death. They got a free kick in injury time. It was Jamie’s striking distance. All Jamie needed to do was to lift it onto Jan’s head and then they had this in the bag. But it didn’t. When Jamie kicked through it, it was way too flat and bounced off the wall. Then everything happened in slow motion. There was nothing Jamie or Isaac, as the held back man, could do to stop the Blackburn winger from ending up one on one with Zoreaux. Then the net rippled.

“I thought we weren’t talking about the game that happened last week,” Ted whispered.

“Since the game that happened last week Jamie has been … wrong.”

Roy hated that it had taken Beard to point this out but he wasn’t wrong. Jamie just looked tired, black bags under his eyes and the loss of the energy he usually vibrated with.

“Plus he’s stopped talking.”

Now everyone’s head shot round to stare at Beard like a tableau of the different stages of grief.

Ted was the manifestation of denial. “He has been talking. He was chatting with Sam earlier about an overlap play and he spotted for Colin,” Ted squeaked.

“He’s only talked when prompted and only about football,” Beard retorted, sighing at the rapidly draining colour from Ted’s cheeks.

Roy was anger. Jamie was supposed to be one of his. All of the coaches unofficially had their players that they worked better with and Jamie was his. He should have been the one to notice that Jamie wasn’t being his usual idea. “I’m going to go talk to him,” Roy growled and stormed out of the office to the sound of Nate’s bargaining that quiet overly focused Jamie wasn’t actually that bad.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Roy ripped Jamie’s headphones off his head and tossed them onto the floor.

“What the fuck?” Jamie yelled, staring daggers into Roy.

“I said what the fuck is wrong with you?” Roy hit the emergency stop on the bike.

“I’m fucking working out until your rude ass stormed in here like someone shoved a flag pole up it,” Jamie kept moving his legs until the bike came to a stop and sat there glaring and rolling his ankles.

“Time to go home,” Roy growled.

“No. I’m going to stay. You guys can go. I don’t need the peanut gallery,” Jamie waved dismissively to the window where Ted, Nate and Beard were watching intently.

“You’ve been overdoing it. That’s how you get hurt. We’re leaving.”

“You’re leaving. I’ve got work to do,” Jamie crossed his arms, mimicking Roy’s tense posture.

“Tartt,” Roy scolded, but stopped before the insult he was forming fell out of his lips. Jamie was still on the fucking bike. “You lot! Out!” Roy yelled, pointing at the gawping coaches.

“Right, yes. Thinks to be thinking and things to be doing,” Ted nodded, falling backwards along with Nate in his haste to get away from this explosion waiting to happen.

“Roy just fuck off,” Jamie sighed, now in private.

“You’re being fucking weird. Get off the bike,” Roy growled.

“No,” Jamie huffed.

“Off the bike,” Roy snarled.

“I fucking can’t alright,” Jamie barked. His posture dropped to lean forward on the handle bars of the bike and his hips clicked. “I’ve been waiting and cooling down and stretching when everyone is gone so I wouldn’t have to have this damn conversation so can you just fuck off and leave me to it,” Jamie muttered.

“No, this is not healthy. This is not how to treat your body. What the fuck is happening in that empty skull of yours?” Roy ranted.

“Gotta get better,” Jamie snapped back.

“What does that mean?” Roy hissed.

“We lost on Friday because of me. I fucked up that kick. I didn’t have the stamina to keep up the intensity for the full ninety and so couldn’t chase down the counter. I fucked it. I tried to apologise to the lads but Ted just said some stuff that didn’t sound like he accepted my apology. So I need to get better. I need to get fitter, I need to improve tactics, I need to be better,” Jamie rambled. As he spiralled, Jamie’s body slumped forwards with his elbows rest on the handlebars and his head in his hands.

Roy sagged as well. Beard was right. Jamie was hurting himself, not in the traditional way but still as painful, but it was out of guilt. And out of guilt over something that was not his fault. It was a small mistake in a clusterfuck of mistakes but Roy knew the feeling of the constricting vine around Jamie’s chest well. Every footballer felt it. They didn’t usually try to work themselves to death over it though. “That loss. Not your fault. We all fucked up. It was a clusterfuck. Any shit that could hit the fan did hit the fan. Those are the sort of losses you wipe from memory and move on with your life,” Roy slowly and tentatively rested a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, settling it there when Jamie didn’t flinch away.

Yet he still shook his head, "I’m the best player out there. You know that. Everyone knows that, if they don't they're fucking dense. So if we lose then that's on me. I fucking lost and that makes me a fucking loser.”

“Tartt,” Roy groaned but the denial caught in his throat. There was something not right. Ok there were a lot of things not right but there was something that Roy was missing. Something that he should be remembering because that did not sound like Jamie. That wasn’t the usual grandstanding, everyone look at me attitude he had when stating that he was the best player out there. There was a darkness to it. And there was only one person in Jamie’s life that would talk about Jamie with that level of praise and degradation. “Is this your fucking dad again?”

Jamie’s shoulder tensed under his hand, and then there was a slight nod. “I think so. He was always on me about letting other people make me look bad. If other people were going to make me look bad then I needed to get so good that they couldn’t tarnish it,” Jamie whispered.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Roy muttered, he just couldn’t hold it in, but thankfully Jamie didn’t react. “Tomorrow you’re talking to the doc,” Roy sighed. Jamie nodded again. Ok that was a start. Now he needed to bring it home, literally. “Tonight you are coming home with me. Lets get you out of here, ice bath then back to mine for food and rest,” Roy’s tone brokered no arguments but Jamie tried anyway.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he grumbled, finally lifting his head up off his hands.

“I don’t trust your mindset right now. It’s either come home with me or I’ll call Ted back here,” Roy released Jamie’s shoulder to help hold his waist instead as Jamie prepared to move.

“That is emotional blackmail,” Jamie huffed, groaning as he lifted his leg over the front of the bike.

“It’s a choice,” Roy smirked, catching Jamie as he dropped down and as predicted his legs buckled underneath him.

“Fine. I’ll come back with you. But that means you have to make me that salmon pasta. That was mint.”

Roy rolled his eyes but both of them knew what they were going to be eating for tea. It wasn’t perfect. Jamie wasn’t fixed but at least for tonight and tomorrow Roy knew Jamie was safe.

[pendulumstarway]

A very disheveled and unamused Jack carrying a damaged Bruno.

I wanted to test out halftones and I really like how it came out! I'll deffo be doing more in the future.

[needlesandnilbogs]

the sad thing about spending time with an ex dancer friend is that we watch our old nutcracker dvds and go “oh hey that’s mckenna, she quit a year after this one with anorexia” “oh hey what happened to lea? oh yikes, broke an ankle and quit” “ooh, remember grace? she was always getting bullied by the teacher so she quit too” “oh I haven’t seen isabelle in years, she must have quit right after that, wasn’t she the one so and so liked to pick on?” “yeah iirc kanani quit too, she said it was killing her self esteem”

[dumblemonchickenwing]

continuation under cut

[transwhorefinn]

I think we should talk about how Chip’s words are borderline s**cidal

“I’m just another bastard, I never should’ve existed”

Like….

I’m extremely concerned…

[tundra-employee]

i don't lie. you're pretty. pretty boy

I-

I don’t believe you. You’re. I’m not. I’ve never been. I know I’m not. Its fine. People can be attracted to my mind or my personality. Not that I think those are any better but. No one would find me attractive.

[steampunkserpent27]

Beautiful

for @hdcandyheartsfest 's prompt: "Beautiful" rated: G CW: Gorgon Harry, Snakes, Self-esteem issues, Happy Ending A sequel to this “Draco?” Draco paused, the paintbrush still balanced on his fingers. “Yes, Love?” He lingered near the doorway, leaning up against it. “Why… Why do you love me?” Draco’s eyebrows furrowed, as he got up and made his way over to him, taking his hand and bringing it to his lips. “Love, you’re such a wonderful, kind person, and you always take such good care of me. Why wouldn’t I love you?” His eyes stung, as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. “But… Look at me.” “You’re beautiful.” “No, I’m not.” He shook his head, feeling the writhing coils of snakes attached to his scalp grow agitated, as they were thrashed around. “I’m…” He paused, his throat flexing.”God. I mean look at me.” Draco brushed his fingers against his cheek. “Hey. Hey. I see you, Love. I see you.” His shoulders shook, as he fought back tears. If he started to cry, the snakes would only grow more restless, as they’d want to know where the danger was. Only there was no danger, it was only him. “I’m a monster.” “No, you’re not.” Draco leaned closer, running his fingers through the writhing coils of snakes. They curled around and enveloped his hand, sniffing it with their pink tongues, before they gradually calmed and grew still, resting against the warmth Draco offered. The snakes had long ago accepted Draco and no longer tried to strike at him, even in their most frenzied of states. Draco wrapped an arm around his back and guided him closer, allowing him to rest his head against his shoulder. He found he couldn’t hold it back any longer and started to cry, letting out breathy sobs, as Draco attempted to soothe his frightened snakes. “You’re so beautiful, Love. Everything about you is so, so beautiful.” Draco continued to hold him, whispering words of encouragement into his ears, as he rocked him side to side. “I love you.” He whispered, once his tears had dried. Draco pressed his lips against his cheek, lingering over a patch of black scales that descended from his scalp, before he moved to his forehead and then his nose, kissing him again and again. “I love you.”

[pyreshe]

one thing i did not anticipate about me leaving my job is the amount of people who came out to tell me how much they enjoyed working with me and will miss me. the lead of a different department even went as far as telling me that she would have hired me to her team on the spot had they had an opening & that she will tell me if they ever do have an opening so i can apply (if i want to). like the fuck?

[kattartsblog]

Rated M

Warnings: Swearing, baited fluff, Blood, Anxiety, Death, OC x Canon, Self Esteem Issues

Today is the day, will Ilona finally confess their feelings to Melone or will their heart be crushed?

Author’s note: Looks like it’s going to be another long post again, sorry everyone I’m not sure why it’s not working.

It was a simple hit, so easy a mouse could do it. There was a private club hosting an event for a wealthy couple Signore and Signora Cotoletta. The task: kill Signore Cotoletta with the power of Hybrid Theory and Melone would serve as backup. The stage was set as Ilona wore a very striking black tailed tuxedo with their hair slicked back. Melone had his hair up in a small half ponytail and wore a striking white suit to blend in with the wait staff. Melone helped Ilona fix up their small little purple bowtie. “Alright Il, you know just what to do. Break a leg.” Ilona nodded and Melone kissed Ilona’s forehead, he left to watch for Ilona to signal for backup. Ilona walked onto the stage and whispered to the musicians that they would be performing a piece. The musicians nodded. Ilona grabbed the microphone in the front and tapped it to get the crowd’s attention. Ilona took a deep breath and began to fake a cocky smile, “Ladies and gents, for this next performance we got a special request from the missus.”

Ilona signaled to the musicians and they began to play; first a violin began to play quite aggressively, then drums and piano followed suit. The lyrics began soft and sweet and once the chorus hit, the room could feel the bittersweet passion of the melody. Melone put on his earplugs when the chorus hit, though the vibration of the bass could be felt as he watched Ilona dance through the stage attempting to charm the audience. He couldn’t help but giggle, their movements were mesmerizing and yet goofy.The second verse hit and Hybrid Theory emerged to sing as a backup chorus. With a stamp of their foot, Ilona was able to find Signore Cotoletta and Hybrid Theory’s tendrils were able to snake into his ears as they belt out a loud note. The room began to ring for the other patrons, but to Signore Cotoletta their ears felt like they were on fire and blood began to fall from their ears. As they bowed Melone gave the signal that he still was alive and they needed a second song. Ilona nodded and whispered to the other musicians, “For this next song, is for the dearly devoted.” They took a deep breath and began to sing, the first verse began as a whisper and once the chorus hit, there was an aggressive voice beginning to take over. This voice clearly sounded like Hybrid Theory singing the most important bits, as if they were singing messages from deep within Ilona’s soul. Melone’s eyes widened as Ilona belted out a mighty note, it was as if Ilona themself had declared their love out right there on stage. Melone watched as Signore Cotoletta’s heart stopped, he looked like he passed out from a heart attack.

Ilona finally stopped and bowed, they looked up to see Melone stunned. Ilona blushed as their eyes met, they could feel that unlike the opera house this was a look of awe and adoration. They quickly eyed Signore Cotoletta who looked more pale and limp. Ilona grabbed the microphone, “Grazie a tutti, buonanotte!” The crowd cheered in obliviousness as Ilona took one last bow and left the stage. Melone took the earplugs out of his ears and threw them in the trash, Ilona waved at him to signal that they were ready to leave. Once they left the main celebration, Melone grabbed their paw and the two made a mad dash for the exit. They immediately went to find Melone’s motorcycle, once found the two assassins hopped on and began to ride off into the evening. Ilona held on tightly and pressed their body against Melone’s back. They looked up to Melone as his hair blew in the wind and the scenic Italian seaside scrolled past them, Ilona felt that feeling again. It was here, during their great escape where the spark began. Ilona fell for him here.

XxxxX

Sorbet and Gelato looked at each other in confusion then at Ilona, “So, you already sort of declared your love through song.” Ilona was perplexed and took a minute to think about what Sorbet said, the realization soon dawned on them, “Oh… oh god, I mean it. I just did my thing and just sang whatever.”

“Well you have to be upfront with him. If you don’t, he’s bound to be confused and take it the wrong way.” Gelato nodded, “Just be honest and maybe a tad flirty if you want. But most of all, don’t be upset if he rejects you.” Ilona nodded, “I think I’m ready. Thanks again.” Ilona got up and placed their paw on the doorknob, before they exited the room they looked down. These paws were not human anymore, but that didn’t matter. Melone had made them feel like a normal human being again.

[librababe99]

More Than Skin Deep

Word Count: 766 

cw: Fem! Reader, Self-esteem issues, reference to scars and disfigurement, established relationship, hurt with comfort 

A/N: This is my first time writing for Wade! Honestly I wanted this to be short and sweet–plus this man is sooo deserving of some gentle love❤️ Would y’all be more open to content with Wade? How are we feeling? 

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The night was quiet—surprisingly so for a place like New York City, where the streets never truly slept. But here, in the dim light of Wade’s apartment, the world outside seemed a distant memory. The soft glow of the streetlamp filtered through the window, casting a warm, golden hue over the room, illuminating the gentle rise and fall of Wade’s chest as he lay on the bed.

You sat beside him, your fingers tracing the well-worn path over his skin. Wade Wilson—merc with a mouth, the man who’d seen more carnage than most could even imagine—was currently as still as you’d ever seen him. His eyes were half-closed, a rare vulnerability etched into the lines of his face.

Your fingers followed the familiar route, gliding over the uneven terrain of his chest. Every scar, every imperfection, was a testament to the battles he’d fought and survived. They were part of him, part of the man you loved, and you cherished each one.

“Why do you do that?” Wade’s voice was softer than usual, lacking the usual quip or joke. There was something raw in his tone, something unguarded. He didn’t open his eyes, though. Maybe he was afraid to see what might be reflected in yours.

“Do what?” you asked, your voice equally gentle. Your fingers continued their journey, moving lower, tracing the ridges and valleys of his abdomen. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the tension in his muscles gradually easing under your ministrations.

“This.” He gestured vaguely to where your hands roamed. “Touch me like I’m… I dunno, something precious.”

You smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “Because you are.”

Wade let out a scoff, the sound more automatic than genuine. "Come on, you can't really find this attractive," he muttered, a trace of self-deprecation in his voice.

You smiled softly, leaning down to kiss one of the scars on his chest. "I find you attractive," you whispered against his skin, feeling the subtle tremor of a laugh as it reverberated through him.

You shifted, lying down beside him so you could face him, your hand moving to cup his cheek. His skin was rough here too, but to you, it was perfect. You brushed your thumb across the ridge of his jaw, feeling the way he leaned into your touch, despite himself.

“You’re not just scars, Wade,” you said, your voice firm but tender. “You’re the man who makes me laugh until my sides hurt. You’re the guy who takes on the worst of the worst to protect people, even if you’d never admit that’s why you do it. You’re the person who makes me feel safe, and loved, and important.”

Wade’s eyes finally opened, and you saw the conflict in them—an uncertainty that rarely showed itself. “You really believe all that?”

“I do.” You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, soft and slow. “I love every part of you. The loud, the quiet, the scars, the smile… all of it. You’re mine, Wade, and I’m not letting go.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, his hand coming up to rest on yours where it still cupped his cheek. “You’re too good for me,” he said, but there was less conviction in his words this time.

“Maybe,” you teased lightly, pulling back just enough to see the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

Wade’s hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the lie in your words. But there wasn’t one. What he saw was the truth—the unconditional, unwavering love you had for him.

“Guess I could get used to that,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

You kissed him again, letting your lips linger, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him. Your hand drifted down his chest once more, over the scars and the rough patches, your touch reverent, worshipful. You poured everything into that kiss, into your touch, wanting him to feel the depth of your love, to know it was real.

When you finally pulled back, Wade’s eyes were dark, filled with something that looked an awful lot like hope.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words barely audible.

You just smiled, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, your heart full. “Always.”

And as the night stretched on, with the world outside growing quieter still, you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms. Wade’s body relaxed completely under your gentle ministrations, his heart finally accepting what his mind struggled to comprehend.

That he was loved—scars and all.

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[koolaidoverwriting]

GENERAL DATING HEADCANONS

CHARACTERS: Eyeless Jack, Jeff the Killer, Gender Neutral Reader

Request. I wasn't sure if you meant Jack x Jeff. I stuck to separate SFW and NSFW headcanons. But you can send another ask to clarify! :)

CW: Explicit Sexual Content, But Also Romantic Fluffy Stuff, Blood, Self-Harm, Cannibalism, Biting, Not Graphic

NSFW UNDER CUT! MINORS DNI!

EYELESS JACK

SFW:

Jack doesn't feel as much empathy or sympathy as other people. It definitely takes a long time for him to warm up to you, let alone get comfortable enough to date you.

Jack is an outlier in the mansion. He likes being alone, doing his own thing. Plus, a lot of people don't like his bluntness and sarcasm.

His tar spills faster when he's upset, but it's pretty much gone when he's happy. That's why he hardly cries tar around you.

He has a hard time showing affection through his words, but you know he loves you. Sometimes, he just pops up and holds your hand, or wraps his arms around you.

When you're hurt, he tends to your wounds, cooks you warm meals, and stays by your side. It's a mutual silence where you're just enjoying each others' presence.

Jack is a bookworm. You spot the books he reads and you check them out. Jack is over the moon when you randomly reference his favourite book. "Did you really read that for me?"

Surprisingly, Jack talks a lot. He rants about his interests in gardening and science.

Speaking of gardening, he'll most definitely grow your favourite flowers for you. He'd give you handmade bouquets and flower crowns, as well as perfumes and scented candles.

Jack isn't against light–hearted teasing. He says flirty things just to catch you off guard since you aren't used to it. Most of these "flirty things" are phrases he heard from TV shows.

He does try to get you to try kidneys. If you refuse it because it's raw, he'll cook it for you. If you refuse it because it's gross, he'll shrug a shoulder and eat it himself.

NSFW:

Jack is gentle with you. He knows how much smaller you are in comparison, so he makes sure he doesn't bruise you.

If you allow it, he'll bite you enough to draw blood, but nothing more.

His ears are sensitive! Licking or biting them gets him all worked up.

Jack has three tongues that overlap in his mouth, meaning he's a fucking demon with oral sex. His tongues squirm inside of you, hitting all the right spots. He could eat you out for hours before substituting his tongues for his cock.

When he sees you're close, he only fucks you harder.

Jack's cock doesn't fit inside you all the way. Your senses leave you, and you're a drooling, blubbering mess as he rams into your entrance.

After you're done, he'll clean up any blood that spilled and kiss your bite marks. While cuddling, he asks you what you want to eat. He'll cook anything for you.

JEFF THE KILLER

SFW:

Jeff lives in the mansion and has been living there since he was 17. Before that, he lived with a blind old woman who thought he was her grandson.

Dating him means you're going to have to get used to his angry outbursts until he learns how to control them better. He tends to lash out and then apologise later. You're sure with enough patience, things might get better. Especially because you know he's trying his best.

He loves emo music. In fact, he collects merchandise from the concerts he sneaks into. At night, you get to cuddle with Jeff while some emo song blasts on his speaker.

He also plays the electric guitar and would love to teach you how to play. And if you already know how to play, he'll get really excited about duetting with you.

Jeff has had self-esteem issues since the incident. He tries everything to make himself "beautiful", taking extensive care of his skin, hair and clothes.

He believes the scar makes him look better, maybe because it distracts from other parts of his face he's insecure about. He refreshes his cut every month.

You have to remind him that he's beautiful just the way he is. There are nights where you argue over it, but you try everything you can to help him overcome his insecurities — or at least accept his flaws.

He has a knife collection. He paints the handles of his knives all different colours. Some days, you could sit and talk with Jeff while you paint knife handles together.

"Can I test the sharpness on you?" "What?" "...I'm joking."

Jeff isn't a good cook. He never put time into learning how to cook. You, knowing he has to learn at some point, convince him you're on a "cooking date" whenever you want to teach him how to make a meal.

NSFW:

I already have a NSFW post for Jeff, but these are softer alternatives for when he's in a relationship.

Known fact: Jeff will use his knife during sex. He enjoys grazing it across your skin, smiling at your "cute" reactions.

The tip of the knife scratches your thighs. Your legs twitch as he looks into your eyes with a needy look.

Jeff likes seeing your desperation. He loves it when you grind against him, begging for his cock. He'll keep his hands off you, forcing you to grind helplessly. "Horny little bitch... Yeah, tell me how much you want me."

He fucks you at a rough, unstable rhythm as he tries to reach his peak. When he's in the zone, it's only his orgasm that matters to him.

Jeff mutters profanities under his breath with almost every thrust. It's a mixture of praise and degradation. "Fuck... D–Damn slut... You feel so fucking good..."

For aftercare, he doesn't do much. Just small things like giving you water and cuddling with you in bed. It's simple and it's nice.

!!! i'm very sorry if you meant "jack x jeff"! feel free to let me know in another ask, though!

[fearthecoldblood]

Sinday asks 15.

nsft content below! / sinday asks

15. Tell us about their sex fantasy? Things they want to try and do, but haven’t yet.

Despite being fairly experienced, there are a few scenarios that he’s not had the time/opportunity to participate in. Most of his encounters are typically a sort of rushed affair to get the deed done rather than explore other forms, test boundaries etc. He’s always had a sort of ‘would that be fun?’ approach to threesomes/multi-person s*x. It’s definitely a ‘maybe’ in terms of whether he would seek out the opportunity but it’s there. Another thing would probably be trying out new sneaky places to get it on: libraries, balconies, fields of flowers… his mind is curious. Maybe best to avoid the doctor’s clinic though, Geh.r.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 6

WC:1288 Masterpost CW: Self-esteem issues, past abuse, past experimentation, past starvation

“Hey Kid,” Jason said after he knocked on the door. It may have been left open a crack for safety reasons, but Jason still wanted to give the kid as much privacy as they could with all this.

The kid looked up at him from the bed with wide, startled eyes.

Right.

“I’m the one with the helmet.”

“I, yeah, same outfit,” the kid mumbled but didn’t look any less wide eyed.

Jason held back a sigh “Can I come in?”

“Sure, yeah,” the kid said as he forced himself to sit up against the wall with shaky arms.

Jason took the seat that Tim had used and kept a careful distance between them, even as he leaned forward and clasped his hands. “I want you to be honest with me, Kid, because you feeling safe here is the most important thing. I’ve made some soup and I’d like you to eat it and some bread, but if you don’t feel comfortable eating something I made we can do am MRE instead. That way you can know it’s still sealed.”

“No. I mean, no to the MRE. Soup sounds…” the kid had to stop and swallow. “That sounds really good.”

“Okay, Kid,” Jason said with as gentle of a voice as he could manage right then. “It’s only going to be a small portion to start, just to give your body time to adjust, but you keep it down and are still hungry there will be more. Whenever you’re hungry there will be food, I promise, and you don’t have to do anything to earn or deserve it. You can just ask whoever is around. Hell, when you’re well enough to walk around you can get anything you want from the fridge or pantry, okay?”

The kid nodded slowly, but that wide eyed look was back. Jason was going to have to warn the others about making sure that the kid ate and knew that he had free access to the food. They should get some granola bars, chips, and bottled drinks for the kid’s room too, but only once they knew the kid wouldn’t gorge himself.

“And just to check, any allergies or restrictions? I made the soup vegan, just to be safe, but it’s got some corn starch as a thickener.”

The kid shook their head.

“Good. After you eat, if you feel up to it, it would be good for you to take a bath or shower. But if you can’t,” Jason gave a little shrug, “that’s fine too. It can be another time.”

The kid shook his head. “I want to. I mean, if I can, I want to. A shower sounds… really good.”

“Yeah, I bet it does. I’ll go get you that soup and a sports drink. I know it’s going to suck, but we’re going to want to track you staying hydrated so you’ll be drinking lots,” Jason warned to another answering nod. He closed the door most of the way behind him again as he left the bedroom.

“He was awake then?” Dick asked softly when Jason moved to fill up a bowl.

“Yeah. Hey, can you start a log? I want to track what the kid eats and drinks and when,” Jason said.

“What’s the starvation concern?” Dick asked with a little frown as he tapped on the tablet.

“Right now I’m worried about the kid not believe he can eat whenever he’s hungry, so we’ll have to keep asking. But we need to watch for gorging. Lots of small meals often right now.”

Dick nodded. “Okay. I’ll make the log and set a silent alarm for whoever’s with him every hour. Did you talk about moving safe houses?”

Jason shook his head as he place two bowls and a plate of buttered bread on a lap tray. “We’ll let him get fed and through the shower first, maybe even another nap.”

“We don’t want him to get too settled here,” Dick pointed out.

“But we also don’t want to spook him,” Jason countered.

Dick just sighed. “Fucking timing.”

Jason opened his mouth—

“And if you make a dick joke right now I will throw something at you, little wing, I am not kidding.”

Jason help his hands up in surrender for a moment before he picked up the tray and headed back to the bedroom. He knocked with his foot before he pushed the door open.

The kid had fixed the bed while Jason was out of the room. He even straightened up the mess of tools that Tim had left.

It made Jason’s stomach turn over.

“You didn’t have to clean up,” Jason said, hoping to let the kid know he didn’t have do work to stay. “Red leaves a mess wherever he goes.”

The words had the opposite effect and the kid ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jason soothed. He’d have to mention this to the others too. “It’s nice not to accidentally step on a screw or something, just that you didn’t have to. Can I set the tray on your lap?”

The kid nodded and scrambled to straighten back up. Jason was careful not to touch him as he set the tray down and made sure it was balanced.

“So I divided the veggies up differently. Which bowl do you want?”

The kid’s eyes darted between the two bowls and then up to Jason, as if trying to find the right answer.

“I don’t mind either,” Jason added, casually as he could, and sat on the bed next to the kid. “I can get more if I want it. Hell, I probably will. Spoiler always says I’m a bottomless pit with how I eat.”

Slowly, the kid reached out to scoot the bowl more more potato chunks closer to him. He glanced up at Jason from under the messy white bangs. Jason just smiled and took the other bowl for himself. He blew on a spoonful of soup before starting to eat. A beat latter, the kid did the same.

Jason ate steadily, setting a rhythm for the kid to follow, and the kid was mimicking him. It was almost like the other didn’t even know how to eat any more. For a moment, Jason had to close his eyes and breathe. The Pit Rage wasn’t what it used to be, but there was a still an anger that could burn inside him and when it did, it burned so fiercely hot. Right then, it wanted to burn whoever did this to the kid to ashes. Jason didn’t much want to stop it, but he wouldn’t risk scaring the kid for vengeance.

Not when this was his new little brother.

(He wasn’t going to mess up this time, not again.)

The sound of the spoon scraping softly against the bowl next to him trailed off. Jason kept eating, focused on his own bowl, so not to call note to it. He’d like the kid to eat a little more, but he wouldn’t push it. He’d push so little with this kid, not outside of keeping him safe.

When the barely there weight settled against Jason’s side, he froze.

Slowly he turned his head as little as possible.

The kid was tipped over, head pillowed against Jason’s arm, sound asleep.

Jason reached up with his other hand and tapped his comm twice. Dick was at the door in a flash, silent despite having obviously run. The alert bled out of Dick as he took in the sight and his face split into a grin. Silently laughing, Dick raised the tablet still in his hands and started taking photos.

Jason flicked him off for the next shot.

Damn brothers.

---

AN: Another mostly soft Trauma Tuesday! But my is poor Danny messed up... at least he has his big brothers looking after him! (Even he doesn't know that part yet.)

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe here!

[adverbally]

I Put a Spell on You

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Halloween” | wc: 1,213 | rated: M | cw: minor discussion of the consent and self-determination issues arising from love spells (which do not actually apply to what happens) | tags: attempted magic, halloween costumes, eddie’s self esteem issues, this turned out more humorous (or even cracky) than intended but i figure i was due for a light angst day, happy ending | title from the song by “Screamin’ Jay” Hawkins (though I personally love the version by Creedence Clearwater Revival)

———

Under any other circumstance, Eddie would be thrilled to have an amorous Steve Harrington in his arms, pressing him up against the side of his van and kissing him senseless. Honestly, there is still a part of him that thrills at the contact, but a far greater part of him is too guilty to enjoy the warmth of Steve’s mouth on his.

“Steve, wait,” he gasps between kisses, planting a hand on Steve’s chest to keep him at arm’s length.

Steve frowns at him. It’s a ridiculous look contrasted with the werewolf costume he had put together for that night’s Halloween party, complete with hairy paw gloves and a repurposed fake beard glued onto the sides of his face to simulate overgrown sideburns. “Too much?” he asks with genuine concern.

It takes everything in Eddie not to flinch away from the scratchy fur when Steve raises a hand to cup his cheek. “No, I just– are you sure about this?” He’s not sure what he means by this, exactly, but it definitely includes making out with another guy in full view of whoever is still wandering around Loch Nora at two in the morning. Especially when it’s the weekend before Halloween and they’re dressed as a vampire and a werewolf.

“I really like you and if you feel the same, I wanna see what this can be,” Steve says firmly. “Especially if you let me keep kissing you.” His lips are stained red, courtesy of the fake blood he picked up from Eddie’s mouth, and his cheeks are flushed from alcohol and the exertion of the past few minutes. He’s almost beautiful enough to distract Eddie from his ethical dilemma, but not quite.

“I appreciate that, but did you feel that way before, like, Thursday evening?”

Steve lets go of his face. “That’s a suspiciously specific question,” he observes through narrowed eyes.

“What do you mean?” Eddie keeps his eyes wide, trying to look innocent.

“Eddie.”

It doesn’t take much to make him crack, just a hint of disappointment on Steve’s wolfy face. “I, um.” He scrunches his face up as he searches for the words. “I might have cast a love spell on you?”

Steve, to his credit, doesn’t immediately burst out laughing. Another worrying bit of evidence pointing to the spell’s success, maybe, but he mostly looks incredibly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I found this book at the library,” Eddie confesses miserably. “About magic. And of course I didn’t think it would actually work, but I had to try it, you know? For science or whatever. So I cast a love spell on you, and now you’re here,” Eddie waves a hand at him, “and you’re suddenly into me.”

Steve’s frown gets even deeper, if possible. “You know how insane that sounds, right?”

Eddie really regrets slicking his hair back with gel to complete his fancy vampire look. The urge to fidget with it is especially strong right now. “Yeah, obviously it doesn’t make sense. It’s magic.”

“It’s not real!” Steve exclaims, throwing his paws in the air in exasperation.

“Steve, look at the evidence here. It’s Friday night– or Saturday morning, I guess– and it’s the first time we’ve seen each other since I did the spell on Thursday. You expect me to believe that you genuinely want to be my boyfriend and the timing of this was a coincidence? I mean, the odds are practically zero!”

Steve is blinking at him like he’s trying to understand a foreign language, but his smile is fond when he says, “I didn’t do great in Stats, but I’m pretty sure the fact that you just described exactly what happened makes the odds, like, a hundred percent.”

That’s not how probability works but Eddie isn’t sure he can explain why while he’s tipsy and distraught, so he ignores that statement. “And it doesn’t matter if you say you already wanted to be my boyfriend. The whole point of a love spell is that it makes you think you’re in love. Maybe that’s a retroactive effect! Maybe if it worked, you would just think that you’ve had a crush on me this whole time!” Eddie is sort of shouting by the end. Good thing Steve’s neighbors are so far away.

“Eddie.” Oh god, Steve’s eyes are sad now. He’s probably about to explain how this insane violation of his free will makes Eddie a shit person (which, yeah, he’s aware) or argue that he stole Steve’s chance to fall in love for real (also very hard to refute).

“I’m sorry, okay, it was supposed to just… do nothing. That’s why I knew I could test the book by doing this. Because if you showed any interest in me, which would never happen in a million years without magical intervention, it would be proof that the spell worked.” Eddie spreads out his arms as if to say ta-da! “And now here we are. I totally understand if the whole mind control aspect of this, like, ruins our friendship, ‘cause I’m sure that would be a dealbreaker for me–”

Steve covers Eddie’s mouth with one of his giant furry gloves. “Eddie. I’m going to ask you something. It might be hard for you to answer, but I want you to try, okay?” He waits for Eddie to nod before removing his hand. He looks Eddie dead in the eye and calmly poses his question. “Why do you think it would be impossible for me to like you of my own free will?”

“I mean, I guess it’s technically possible? Just super unlikely and even demonstrably false.”

Steve rests his paws on his hips. “I think you know what I mean.”

“Steve, stop trying to spin this into being okay! I know I fucked up but I’ll undo it as soon as I can. I owe you a huge apology.”

“No,” Steve shakes his head, which makes his lupine sideburns rustle. “No, that’s actually the complete opposite of what I’m trying to tell you here. I like you. Really! You’re smart and fun, and I love how creative you are and how you want to help people and even how fucking self-sacrificing you are.” He puts his hands over the exaggerated shoulders of Eddie’s vampire cape. “That’s all because of you, not some stupid spell.”

“Oh.” All Eddie can do is stand there, hoping the tears in his eyes don’t spill over and smear his makeup. “Really?”

Steve laughs. “I’ve only been trying to ask you out since August!”

That makes Eddie snort, mostly at his own obliviousness. “Give me a break! I had just relearned how to walk in August, I was a little busy.”

“If you need something to do that doesn’t involve fake magic library books, I might be able to help,” Steve jokes with a crooked grin. “That is, if it’s okay to kiss you again?”

“Blanket permission, as long as you forget this ever happened.” Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and pulls him close again.

“Mm, I don’t think so.” Steve tilts his head to kiss Eddie. It’s not as frantic as it was earlier, now that Eddie isn’t panicking about the moral implications of intimate activity under the influence of a love spell.

Somehow it’s even better.

[fourmoony]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬

james potter x f!reader, modern college au, 1.3k

cw: smoking, past rejection, implied self-esteem issues

summary: reader isn't as subtle as she thinks about her crush on jamie

James is propped up against the hood of his car when you pull into the space next to his. He's talking to Sirius and Remus, who stand a few paces in front of James, both smoking a cigarette. Technically, they're not supposed to smoke on campus, but you doubt anyone would be stupid enough to mention that to Sirius Black and his infamously smart-mouthed boyfriend.

James turns his gaze to you as your engine cuts out, keys jangling in your hand and he lifts his hand in a wave. You wave back, half focussed on collecting the multitude of things on your passenger seat and stuffing them into your bag. The carrier bag in your footwell snags your attention, heart stammering a little with the reminder of what lies inside. It's cool. In your opinion, a very cool poster. One you know James has been looking for, for months. His favourite band.

But there's a voice in the back of your head, one born of being fourteen and asking a crush out, only to be told you'd gotten the wrong idea. A voice born of years of being lusted after, but not wanted. It's a voice that tells you James might assume you got this poster because you fancy him and find it weird.

And, sure. You might have went to the lengths of scrolling the internet for hours and paying extra for express shipping because you couldn't wait to see his smile when he unveiled it, to watch his eyes crinkle at the corners with excitement. There's something so overwhelmingly pretty and soft about James Potter. You've been living with that heavy admittance in your chest all semester and next week, your final term of sharing classes with James will end and you want him to remember you. You want to be able to say you tried.

But you don't want him to know all of that.

With a glance, you look back to James. He's waiting patiently for you, still talking to Sirius and Remus. The bag crinkles when you pick it up, the anxiety prickling over your skin like a heat rash. His friends offer you kind smiles when you exit the car, bag slung over your shoulder and the framed poster in hand. "Your engine doesn't sound great, love. You checked your oil recently?" Sirius asks, foregoing a proper greeting.

James laughs at the same time Remus rolls his eyes, akin to a love sick fool even when he's pretending not to be. "Ignore him," Remus drawls, flicking his cigarette to the ground, "He's decided he's going to be a mechanic."

In the year you've known Sirius Black, he's decided he's going to be an artist, then the lead singer of a band, then a lawyer, then a pilot, and now, he's going to be a mechanic. You hope, one day, that one might stick. Though, you've seen how much he loves his motorbike and would put money on the mechanic idea sticking around for a while longer than the time he wanted to buy a zoo.

"Oh, right. You can have a look if you like, but Jamie filled the oil last week." You tell Sirius, who scowls at his best friend.

James smiles kindly when you settle beside him against his car, leaning over to bump your shoulder with his bicep. His height difference is nothing, compared to Remus, but you still have to look up to meet his kind eyes. "Hi." He says.

"Hey."

Sirius scoffs, "Hi."

James pointedly ignores him, "What's in the bag?"

Your eyes nervously flick to Sirius and Remus, the former becoming incredibly interested in what's in the bag as well. Remus must sense your hesitation, because he grabs his boyfriend by the wrist and turns to walk away. "See you later, Prongs. Bye, love."

Sirius can be heard causing a scene even when Remus has dragged him half way across the student parking area. You smile after them fondly.

"You gonna make me guess?" James asks, pushing off of his car to stand and face you.

You have to crane your neck even worse to meet his eyes at this angle, but it's worth it. They're so light in the morning sun they look crystallised. He looks amused, lips twitching as he looks down at you. Heat prickles over your skin as he assesses you. "What's in the bag?"

You hand it to him, wordlessly, and nod for him to look inside. He pulls the frame, turning it until he can see the poster inside. His brows furrow, then lift, his lips parting in surprise. Genuine joy passes through his eyes and you wonder how someone can be so readable, so expressive. His beauty astounds you.

James looks at you, mouth opening and closing like he can't find the words.

"It's for you," You offer, rather dumbly, "Obviously."

James laughs a little breathless, the sound sending your heart slamming into your rib cage. "Where on earth?" He asks, bewildered.

"It's a secret. But I know how long you've wanted one, so I had it framed for safe keeping."

"Thank you," James slides the frame back into the bag, sets it to lean against the front of his car. "Seriously, thank you."

You shrug, hoping it's somewhat believable. "No big deal."

James rolls his eyes at your nonchalance. "Can I hug you? Is that too much? I feel like I should hug you."

You laugh, the feeling of anxiety lifting as James reaches forward to wrap his arms around you. He's warm and soft and smells like cologne and freshly washed clothes. His arms squeeze you tight, his nose buried in your hair where he's hunched over.

"Let me take you to dinner or something, as a thank you." James says as he pulls away, unlocking his car to place the frame safely in the passenger footwell.

"Really, James, you don't have to do that. It's just a poster." You wave him off, pushing off of the car and collecting your bag.

James follows as you walk, shoulder to bicep, skin brushing and your heart in your mouth from the contact alone. "I'm taking you to dinner. Not because I have to, but because I want to."

You find yourself fighting a smile, "Well if you want to." Your voice is teasing an it makes James smile.

"I do. It's a date." James tells you, like it's nothing.

You've halted in the doorway he's holding open for you, head tilting to look into his face. To be sure. To make sure he's not kidding, to make sure he doesn't mean a 'friend date'. He smiles, knowingly.

"You're not subtle, you know," He ushers you through the door, eager to make it to your class on time, "That poster is not easy to find, nor is it cheap."

"It's what friends do." You protest, cheeks warm and palms sweaty.

You brace for rejection, for a joke, for the 'I just don't see you that way'. But James rolls his eyes, reaching around you for the door to the classroom, "Friend's don't go on dates."

"We haven't been on a date." You laugh, incredulously, leading James to your usual seats.

It's a nice feeling, a warm feeling, to feel suddenly safe within your conversation. To feel the normal level of comfort you do with James, even when putting yourself out there. James frowns, "We've been on multiple dates. The library, the cafeteria, the coffee shop just off campus. We even went to that Ethics seminar that one time!"

It takes looking at him to realise he's kidding, the corners of his lips twitching up until he can't fight it anymore. It should be unsettling, for him to make a joke of it. But as he sits, his hand brushes over your shoulder, a gentle touch that sets your skin on fire. "I'm kidding, when I take you out for real, there'll be no confusion on whether or not it's a date."

His breath fans over your ear, warm and his voice thick and you think you might pass out, saved only by the entrance of your professor. James settles in, sends you a wink that has you more flustered than it should.

"Noted." You whisper, though you don't imagine James has heard you.