#i think i am grateful and its just not enough. everywhere i look it seems no one has enough

[caffeinatedopossum]

I keep crying really easily

[bellamyblakru]

@its-hyperfixation i am so fucking sorry its so late😭today was the first day i tested negative!!! and with that good news, i wrote you a tiny oneshot in honor of our wedding anniversary. i love you so so so so so much. and im continuously proud of everything you do. im beyond grateful to have you in my life, and i hope i can keep you in it for absolutely ever. thank you for sticking by my side for so long😭🩷i will stay there for as long as you’ll have me!!!! i love you my love, my arthur to my merlin, my rowan to my aelin, my f1 to my kpop🥺🩷one day!!!

do not feel sorry (it’s just like a yawn when it is not enough)

Merlin was trying—really, he was, but after five nights in a row of the same fucking nightmare, sleep was almost as nonexistent as his appetite at this point.

But he was fine.

He told Gaius that he was fine after he tripped and fell over the desk that’s been in that same spot for over five years, he told Gwen he was fine after stumbling into her during their morning walks, he told Lance and Gwaine he was fine when he managed to avoid having lunch with them four days in a row.

Did they believe him? That didn’t really matter, nor did he try to look too closely at their suspicious eyes following him everywhere he went.

Arthur pretended not to see Merlin drop all the laundry the third time in a row, or when he spilled all the dishes three inches away from the table, or when he slipped on the floors he just cleaned and fell directly into the king’s arms. Arthur had simply righted Merlin back up and went on his way. It was actually quite out of character—so much so that each time Merlin fumbled, he stayed completely still, waiting for the yells of annoyance that weirdly never came.

By the sixth day of mistakes, Merlin had enough.

“Are you okay?”

Arthur peered up from his lunch, looking first at the dirty laundry spread out on the floor then at the frustrated, and rather exhausted, Merlin whose hands were firmly on his hips out of frustration.

“Me?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Yes, you. Who else would I be asking?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur chose to ignore the jabs for now, focusing on Merlin’s face as it morphed back and forth between confusion and tiredness.

“Are you sure?”

Arthur stood up, stretched, came around his desk, and then leaned against it to have a better look at his servant.

“Yes.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes, but it truly did seem his king was feeling alright. He figured he might as well talk about what was wrong here.

“Well,” Merlin started, unsure yet loud enough that he could hear, “you haven’t been yelling at me.”

Surprisingly, Arthur let out a loud chuckle, the noise making Merlin’s eyes widen in even more confusion.

“What’s so funny about that?” Merlin crossed his arms defiantly, kicking some pretend dust on the ground to avoid looking back up. “It’s true.”

“Ah, Merlin,” Arthur laughed a little more. “Is that the only thing you wanted to talk about?”

Merlin would be lying if he said he knew that his king meant—and with the lack of everything lately, he was sure it was affecting what he could have missed.

“I think so?”

Sighing, Arthur walked towards Merlin, and then suddenly guided them both to the edge of his giant bed. Merlin let him—out of confusion and mostly because of the fact that he couldn’t fight him off even if he wanted to.

“Morgana and Gwen told me I had to be patient with you, but, honestly, with the way you’re going, I think you would kill youself before saying anything to me.”

Merlin tilted his head, “With the way I’m going?”

“Dumbass,” Arthur gently flicked his servant’s forehead. “Do you even know that you look like a walking carcass?”

“Do I?” Merlin looked down at himself, moving his fingers back and forth. “I think I look normal.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Arthur sighed again, rubbing his own forehead in frustration. “Merlin-,” he looked the warlock directly in the eyes, the motion freezing Merlin more than anything could, “-what’s wrong? Why aren’t you getting sleep?”

As if that was all it took, Merlin immediately slouched, his eyes watering up at the question, and he tried to cover it up with his hands holding his hands. But it was too late, Arthur had already seen it, lightly forcing Merlin’s hands away to rub the tears off himself. The featherlight action was so tender that Merlin felt like he was barely even there.

Was this actually his Arthur? His Arthur, the one that gets annoyed too easily? Mad quickly? Kills for a living? Was he always this soft?

“Merlin,” another tear wiped away, “please tell me what’s been going on. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

That was the point, wasn’t it? Merlin never wanted to let people in, to see the world as burnt and empty as he sometimes saw it, to see the world as broken and shattered and lost as he did.

“I…”

And when Arthur only looked back at him with so much concern and attention, Merlin felt he had no other choice but to tell the truth.

“I…been having nightmares.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

Merlin hesitated. Did he want to? No. Should he? He remembered his mother once telling him that burdens are better lifted when they were shared by the shoulders of the people we loved, and suddenly, he didn’t want to keep it a secret anymore.

His head fell to his king’s shoulder, “It’s always the same. I’m on the pyre. You’re on the one in front of me. But,” Merlin shook his head into Arthur, the king responding with kind reassurances and soft motions on the warlock’s back. “But I never burn—it’s you. I watch you burn and burn and burn, and I can never get to you in time. One night, I would get mere inches away before it exploded, while the other I would be too tightly bound myself to even get an inch closer—but every night I never make it to you. I can never save you.”

By the end, Merlin’s cries were being completely absorbed by Arthur’s newly cleaned red tunic, but the king didn’t complain nor move, only holding the warlock closer to him.

“When I try to eat, I can only taste soot. When I blink too long, I see your face staring at me through the flames. When I walk, I see you getting further away from me. I’m so tired, Arthur…”

Merlin’s voice quieted as he continued, his wet eyes blinking slowly on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur took Merlin’s face between his hands, gently lifting the servant to face him, before whispering, “You’re safe here, Merlin. You can sleep here—I’ll keep us both safe, okay? No one can get in here and take me away.”

Merlin drowsily nodded, his face covered in snot and tears and a sadness that Arthur hated to see more than he could even admit.

Slowly, Arthur moved them both to lay on his bed, Merlin tucked safely in his side, the warlock’s legs wrapped around the king’s torso as if to make sure the man wouldn’t move a muscle as he slept. And even though Arthur wasn’t originally tired, being wrapped up in someone he loved so completely drew him right into a peaceful sleep (and not that he will mention it, but these past few days watching Merlin was ruining his own sleep schedule, too.).

By the time Merlin woke up, it was early daylight. He barely opened his eyes, opting to slowly rubbing the person’s back that he held in his arms.

His eyes flew open and his body stiffened once he remembered he doesn’t sleep with anyone, but he only found a softly smiling, already awake Arthur looking at him with so much love that Merlin’s fully melted back into him.

Was this heaven? Merlin would have to say it was at least it’s his perfect heaven.

“How are you feeling?” Arthur asked, his voice still a bit raspy from sleep.

Merlin didn’t avoid the usual urge to move Arthur’s hair out of his face, “Better. You?”

Humming his “good,” Arthur basically purred into Merlin’s hand, making the warlock giggle, moving to play with the king’s hair instead.

After a few seconds of peaceful silence, Merlin felt the guilt gnaw at his heart enough to stop and look at the king in his arms.

“I’m sorry if I made you worry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Arthur huffed, moving Merlin’s hand back to their place in his hair. “You made everyone worry, you dingus. I was yelled at to give you space by multiple people—but it turns out I have very little patience for such things.”

Merlin laughed lightly—that was more like the king than anything else that has happened lately.

“Merlin,” Arthur smiled, making sure the servant was looking at him. “You are not alone anymore. I know you had to be for so long, but you’re not anymore. Not as long as I’m around. I know how much shit you carry—please let me help you hold it all. I have broad shoulders, I can carry more than your scrawny little things.”

Again, Merlin puffed out a laugh, but he stopped in favor of holding Arthur’s face, holding the golden king so gingerly as though he was made out of porcelain.

“If I burn, you burn?”

Arthur took Merlin’s hand from his face and kissed his palm—“Wherever you go, I go. And if it be to death, let it be. I go willingly. No fires can stop our future. We will always find our way around the scorched edges.”

“Together, huh?” Merlin whispered, still in a bit of a disbelief that this was real, that Arthur had accepted him so completely that they could do this as one.

“Hmmhmm, but before that,” Arthur jumped up randomly, surprising Merlin as the king’s hand reached out for him. “Let’s get breakfast.”

Giggling, Merlin gratefully grabbed the offered hand, his starving stomach roaring as if in answer.

It wasn’t going to be easy or perfect or without pain, but his dream was wrong. He knew that now.

If Arthur was on the pyre, Merlin was always going to reach him—no one, nothing, could ever stop him otherwise.

[strawbunnycakes]

hate to say it.....but...if u have to beg+plead every time to fund ur campaigns dont u think that tells u something about what ppl think of ur work :(

like....if its something ppl want theyll buy it w/out u having to beg all the time

im sorry i know this is hard to hear!!! but always guilt tripping ur audience like this to push them to give u money...it looks bad....

hi! sorry but thats such a mean thing to say especially the first little blurb in the beginning. im not trying to guilt trip anyone, im trying to level with people about the background behind of all of this.

im obviously not comparing myself to van gogh but hes a great example of not finding your audience =/= how good someone is at what they do.

i sell out merch at cons where i couldn't keep a lot of my stuff on the shelf for long, i can barely keep up with people commissioning me, i have had many opportunities for expanding my shop through thousands of dollars worth of several successful Kickstarters and campaigns to be able to fund merch of even MORE characters and art that people really enjoy and even collect! people like them enough to sometimes even do fanart of them for free! i have had people tell me they bring my plushies with them everywhere for comfort, and i've had people send me photos (with consent) of others who happened to be walking around wearing my merch.

here on tumblr, my regular art averages 150-thousands of notes. i think someone out there is enjoying what i make and what i do. thanks so much for the helpful advice though! i guess in the end it does seem like people do enjoy my work when i think back about it ^^ thanks for making me realize that!

i'll just keep working on finding the right audience who is interested in the animation side of my characters, because when i look back, people actually adore my art and my characters, and i am so grateful for those people who are uplifting, encouraging, and supportive! in the end, im thrilled my characters and art have brought so many people so much comfort, and have been told about it many many times - which is honestly the top most important part of it all to me ❤️

[shmowder]

I am grateful for the work you wrote, it made my heart flutter, especially the part with Maria! It's very tragicomic, I couldn't help but smile when I read it. I have some ideas about the other characters you suggested. For example, Lara. She gives me the impression that she creates the most convincing illusion of domestic comfort. You can't even call her homewrecker, because she is, in fact, home. It seems to me that the relationship with her is not charged with sexual energy, but rather compensates for the longing for family warmth. The lack of love in its purest, platonic manifestation. She'll be sentimental enough to give her poor partner something small to remind her of, like a thimble.

Vlad Jr. my beloved. At first it seemed to me that he would not fit into such an affair because of his pragmatic approach to things, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. It seems to me that taking someone's spouse away is also an act of self-affirmation for him, an opportunity to declare himself. He does not like to get his hands dirty, so he will probably resort to threats through intermediaries if his courtship is not eloquent enough. I wonder what his father's reaction will be on that melodrama?..

And, well, Daniil is clearly head over heels. He will shower his beloved with promises to take them to the Capital. A little bit of an old-fashioned romantic escape scenario won’t hurt, is it? Although I think it’s mostly a manipulation strategy to bond with person even closer.

By the way, have you ever consider to try match-ups with Pathologic characters? I think it will be an interesting activity <3

Yours faithfully, 🧡 anon.

I like your take on these characters anon, I'm glad you enjoyed my previous post.

Lara's moral compass tells her that as long as you're unhappy with your current marriage, then the relationship you two share is completely justified.

Ever since her father passed away, she tends to overextend her abilities and spread herself thin, attempting to help everyone everywhere at once. Lara sees a corpse in each person she interacts with, mourning the living akin to the dead.

The world is too big, life is too unpredictable, and she desperately needs to feel in control. Establishing a shelter, giving away material goods, trying really hard to make a difference, to leave this world a better place than she found it, even if it cost her blood and tears.

Maybe that's why this affair didn't feel anything like close to the notion. It started with Lara approaching you instead of the other way around, mentioning how unhappy you seem these days, how she heard the rumours about your loveless marriage.

Offering you a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, a place to stay the night if living under the same roof with your cold spouse is too draining. Don't worry, no one will get the wrong idea, how could they ever when Lara is known to host any soul looking for a temporary home until they can get back on their own two feet.

At least, that's how it started. She'd tell herself that you just happen to bring out her overprotective nature, that it's simply nothing more than her wanting to be a good neighbour.

And you find yourself enjoying her fussing, even her nagging is akin to a melody. To have someone worry so much over you that they get frustrated and angry because you didn't wear a jacket out in this cold weather? It was a new world in comparison to your apathetic spouse.

Gradually, you've come to think of her as home.

Her presence with you over the breakfast table just felt right, grocery trips spent together as you carry the bags, and she asks for your opinion on which flavour of jam to get this week.

Mundane tasks like hanging the laundry to dry or doing the dishes feel less taxing now, especially with Lara nearby with you in the room.

The domestic married life you were promised but robbed out of, the safety and comfort... It's the sweetest dream you've ever lived.

One which you bitterly wake up from each time night falls and both of you go to your own separate bedrooms. How wrong this felt to be alone at this vulnerable hour of the night, reminiscing about the way her hand held your own as she wished you a good night.

How her nail pressed against the wedding ring you're still wearing.

The tightness around her polite smile.

Lara only realises her true desires when you eventually have to return back to your house, to leave this home you've built with her because people might talk otherwise. She rationalises it as her only wanting your happiness. Her priority is to get you out of this cage, this soul-draining marriage and set you free... even if you don't choose her, as much as that idea stings.

People love and trust Lara; she is renowned for her generosity and soft heart. If there was one person in this whole town who could organically minimise the damages to one's reputation caused by a divorce, it would be her.

...and if she had to exaggerate some unsavoury stories about your spouse in order to make you seem in a much more dire situation, then so be it. Their reputation will tank most of the damage, yours will come out intact in the end.

And maybe... you'd like to take refuge in her house again while this whole situation simmers down? She will protect you, she promises.

You'll always have a home with her, much like she finally found her own home with you. And maybe after a week or two, instead of letting go of your hands after wishing you a goodnight, she tightens her hold and leads you to her bedroom.

Nothing of note happens that night. The two of you finish your nightly routine, like always, in the same room instead of two separate ones this time.

You can't shake the giddy feeling from your chest, and Lara can't stop glancing at you with her big eyes every other minute as if she's reassuring herself you're really here.

The two of you get under the covers, she lets you hog most of the blanket.

The candle is snuffed out.

As the morning rolls around, you wake up with her face pressed against your chest. Your arms wrapped around her, her legs intertwined with yours.

And it feels just right.

-

Vlad Jr. is paying someone to kill your spouse.

Not in a yandere way, it's nothing personal he reassures you. He's just built like this.

How did you learn about his plan? Because he just told it to you, directly.

The two of you were simply having lunch when he nonchalantly informed you about this, in-between sandwich bites.

Listen, think about it. The best solution is usually the easiest, divorce and reputation management is hard. Getting your spouse out of the picture would be the most beneficial arrangement for both of you.

Well, yes. It is sad that they have to go out this way and have their life cut short. But like he said, it's nothing personal, really.

If anything it's a pretty straightforward deal and he'll make sure to tell the hired butcher to make it a quick clean kill so they won't even have to suffer for long.

The Saburovs won't even get on your case, people die all the time in this town and... you and your spouse are simply not important enough to cause a stir over, no offence. You know he loves you, right? But facts are facts, and this is actually rather convenient for him that you're an average person. It's why he can take you on these lunch dates around town freely and no one bats an eye.

What's that? You don't want them to die?

Ah, well that is quite the pickle huh? And he's not just talking about the one in his sandwich.

There is always option B, leaving the town together. He never planned to take over the family business, and he heard the Capital is lovely at this time of year.

The two of you can start over there, get properly married and well... live life.

But this also means you'll have to abandon all of your friends and family here and never ever return. It is literally social suicide to just up and go sneak into a train in the middle of the night and leave everything behind.

See how inconvenient that would be? I mean where are you two supposed to spend your holidays then if he can't bring you home to celebrate with father and sister?

Which is why the first option is clearly the easier one, so what do you say? Let him kill your spouse? pretty please?

If you feel sad about it afterwards, don't worry. He will spare no amount of money to cheer you up.

His father is fully supportive, surprisingly. Love is love and all of that.

-

The ever noble Daniil Dankovsky would directly go to your spouse to settle this matter over with.

His courtship with you has been rather public, a scandalous affair even as he spoke plainly about his clear affection for you to any person who asked. He abhors lying and doesn't see a point in pretending that what the two of you share is anything but love.

You care for him, and he cares for you too.

Daniil's convictions and reputation are a double-edged sword. They could either shield you from the social repercussions of infidelity or spell your doom and dig your grave for you.

Your friends are aware, your family is aware, and even your own spouse is aware. The one thing preventing your reputation from spiralling down the drain, is the fact Daniil is a gentleman and took it upon himself to knock at your family's door and explain himself and his intentions to them.

It's very hard to deny his sincere feelings. By all definitions, he is still a respectable and educated man. The Bachelor is walking on thin ice.

Daniil paints himself as the clearly superior choice. His methods are a little unorthodox but surprisingly effective as the most conservative of the townfolks find his crusade to earn the right to properly marry you fair and square rather than start a sleezy affair, a little admirable.

Who cares about losing face in this nowhere town when you'll gain double if not triple the prestige in the Capital just by being his spouse?

What really matters is your family, he understands. And he'll make sure they love him, he'll go above and beyond to show that he is the best son in law they could dream of.

Daniil would be one of the people who would hold themselves back from crossing intimacy boundaries while you're still married. A simple kiss on the back of your hand is the most touch you'll ever feel from him.

He just doesn't like it, the label of an affair. As if it is his fault that someone much less qualified just happened to arrive sooner. If anything, he has always been an advocate for divorce despite it still being a controversial topic.

He genuinely believes that if he proves himself and his noble intentions, then people would eventually understand that if he asks for your hand directly and courts you with honour and dignity, then things must go his way.

Because at the end, you two love each other and he knows that. This isn't some desperate bachelor chasing after shadows, this is a man with a solid conviction and a clear goal, a man on a mission to win over his beloved and earn the right to call himself your husband.

-

I think between all the characters you could cheat with, Georgiy Kain is simply too golden of a choice to pass on.

The judge, you're cheating on your spouse with the man who officiated your wedding himself.

Also, a whole judge, an epitome of ethics, a founding father of law in this town, an advocate for justice.

He'd be content with keeping your affair more on the hush hush side, so would Victor.

Any character with something major to lose or who knows their relationship with you doesn't fit the label of socially acceptable, would keep your relationship a secret, and think it's the best if you stay married.

Some characters like Aglaya Lilich might do it for your own safety, so you won't become a target for the powers that be as long as you have a cover relationship.

Or General Block, who knows there is a big possibility he won't make it out alive from the war. He'd rather you never become a widower, let him be a fleeting love instead.

Anyway back to the judge, it would be extra delicious if the affair started on the wedding day itself.

You're dolled up in your wedding attire, be it a fluffy white dress or an elegant sleek suit, a traditional ceremony outift or a casual and breezy wear.

The church is empty, you've arrived her much earlier than everyone. You can't help the feeling of emptiness inside you, gnawing at you that this is the wrong direction to head towards, that this couldn't be what your life amounts to.

But you swallow it down, the acidic mouthful of resentment and regret.

And you see the judge in there, much earlier than the rest. He always liked things to be done as soon as possible, it's only thanks to him that the town legal system is running at full efficiency at any hour of the day.

You look at him and force a smile, a polite greeting. People respect this man beyond believe, some marvel and aw at the Kains as if they were gods walking amongst men.

Yet you can't bring yourself to care at this moment or give more than a tight smile.

You look so pretty, so lovely... it's supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

So why...

You're crying before you realise it, soft tears streaming down your cheeks. Salty and bitter, mournful of a future you've lost, of a doomed life awaiting you outside.

And he simply... gets it. You don't have to speak, you don't have to explain your situation. He knows, of course he does.

He doesn't hush you, he doesn't rush you. He treats you with the dignity of a capable adult even in your most low moments, with the respect of an equal to him rather some lost fawn awaiting rescue.

How shocking it is to receive this treatment after your family and friends pressured you into this marriage because they saw no worth in you otherwise, no hope for you or your future. They didn't care for your brilliant mind or your fragile heart, they thought being someone's spouse was all that you could amount for.

And there he is, the judge himself, appeasing you as someome of equal importance and intelligence to him.

A man of many talents, a grand philosopher and an inventor truly seeing you for the unpolished potential that you are. The hidden gem amongst the rubble, witness the soul beating and screaming caged by your bones to remain content with this average unfulfiling life.

Someone who believes in you, that you can overcome this on your own. You don't need his help, you never needed anyone's pity or grace.

But his affection? Oh, that he can offer you. To let him be the one to steal away your kiss on your wedding day before your spouse ever could.

He's more than content with just one, a simple short kiss that made him feel things he thought were long gone with his youth.

But you pull him into a second then a third, a hunger awakening inside you. A lust for genuine companionship and understanding rather than sexual desires, a lust to taste the lips of someone who shares your mind, to never to have to belittle yourself or water yourself down.

To be understood, a longing to be seen for the brilliant complex soul that you are.

Rather than someone's spouse.

How the wedding day goes without a hitch, you've regained your resolve tenfolds.

How you receive a congratulations letter for your beautiful wedding the next day, an invitation to the Kains' residence, addressed only to your name.

-

I loved writing this, I hoped you enjoyed reading it!

I'm curious about match ups ngl, but I'm absolutely clueless about how they work. I've seen other blogs do it before but I've never participated or paid much attention?

I'd love to hear more if you don't mind explaining it, pathologic match ups do sound fun.

[gremzoff]

have you ever stopped whining to think that maybe,, just maybe, the hate you receive is true? Without whining and crying about it? That maybe, just maybe you're just not…good enough? Or as good as everyone else? People care about the 'basic' ocs because theyre just? Entertaining? Or maybe the artstyle is good? Have you thought about that? Obviously people will idolize who they think is cool. Also, you're 18? You're an adult now. And youre acting like this? Crying and getting your snot everywhere because you arent getting as much attention as the bigger blogs/creators? Or because your oc isnt that loved? Because the fandom got bigger and so the creators with actually good content are getting more notes? Is this your first fandom experience? I thought you were -12 y/o before seeing the bright "18" (shocked). Every fandom has its flaws, you said it yourself. The bigger the fandom, the bigger the flaws. Hat tipped to you for wanting to keep your peace and no longer interacting with the fandom.

Maybe before going in anon and sending these kinds of threatening/insulting asks calling others immature, you should look in the mirror. Attacking people for their personal decisions and opinions, calling them "12 yo" and immature, this is the real immature act. Why are you doing this, you need to make yourself feel tough? Anyway.

I'm not the only one complaining. If you really cared, you would look around and see I'm far from the only one nor the first complaining about these issues.

This is far from my first fandom experience, I've been in much worse places. I consider that I've grown enough since then to see and point out what's wrong in a community. I see so many new members making posts saying how this fandom feels like a "big family"- but all it takes is actually getting deeper into it to see how rotten the situation is. Idolizing isn't ok. Kissing people's toes isn't ok- and the hypocrisy of some of these people, saying, oh we should support small artists, but then they don't even take time to even look at our stuff- and again, I am not talking only about myself, we are a handful feeling this exact same way, and it's exhausting.

This feeling of anger, sadness, jealousy even maybe, us, small creators can feel towards others is normal. We are human, and we have feelings too, and we shouldn't oppress them. Maybe this is what you fail to realise, the world doesn't revolve around you, others can, too, express feelings. We are allowed to have these feelings and opinions, and real maturity is when you'll accept this fact and scroll past posts that upset you, instead of sending hate.

This has been an exhausting journey. I'm not going to say this fandom has been the worst I've ever joined, like I said, I've been in much darker places. But this is definitely the first time I witnessed such behaviour with my own eyes- sometimes, it almost felt like a cult. And I am not saying this to play around with words and exaggerate my feelings as a shock value, it just takes basic understanding of human behaviour to see what's wrong. This fandom may seem friendly for some, but it isn't the case for everyone, especially if you have experience, and you've been here for a while.

Even if I'm grateful towards this community for some things -like my ocs, my friends, but also the fact I've improved my skills a lot during this journey- , I definitely feel bitter for all the negativity I felt. Between people bashing me for my creations, self doubt and anxiety for not being "good enough", not being able to keep up with posting everyday on my askblogs, or just this uncomfortable feeling of constantly getting thrown under the bus by people who are "more popular". Seriously, nobody would want to meet people who are somewhat known in the community, all that to realise that even in "small" fandoms, people will think they are better than you, and won't hesitate to step on you and almost erase you, but then their fragile ego gets shattered as soon as you dare to speak out about these issues, or worse, express your opinion about not liking their stuff.

I have so many things to say. I hope you get off of your chair and go take a bowl of fresh air outside, because you definitely need it, and probably on the way, look at yourself and reflect on your own behaviour.

[irregulardiaryposts]

20:40 07/03/2024

okay wow well its been well over two years since i updated this 'diary' blog lol

so weird seeing all those old posts about being a teenager with existential thoughts lol i dont really think like that anymore, at least not so much. i guess an update is in order then lmao okay so im in my 3rd year of uni now and im doing my year abroad! doing it in a small city in spain and i really quite like my job, ive only got 14hrs, i have a 3 day weekend, the city is small so i can walk everywhere and this job really gives me a sense of purpose that ive been missing in my life. makes me really realise that university is NOT for me lmfao i was so depressed during my second year i probs went to like 20% of my classes loool. im pretty sure i mightve almost failed aswell but since the professors were doing a marking boycott they released grades without marking the final exam and so since i was already doing well enough in all my classes i passed! quite lucky i think cos i wouldve been so entirely embarrassed and ashamed if i had to repeat a year cos of mental health. i think things are better here tho my issues havent disappeard completely like eg i have these evening classes 6-7.40pm tuesdays and thursdays and for the past like month i havent attended :/ at first it was cos i was sick (i think it was covid lol either from glasgow or on the plane back idk) and then i just didnt go back to class. i think my main excuse is that that is dinner time for me and i dont wanna move dinner time lol. but also i think the class itself is just not for me i dont feel like i learn a whoooole lot while im there and learning on apps is easier for me? but i always felt better for going to the classes cos i was like ha! im not depressed would a depressed person do this!? but of course depression doesnt work like that and i think i need medicated ! but that seems too scary to say. but at least i found someone to do a language exchange with! ive only had one hour with her in spanish, which was yesterday, but i already feel like ive improved lmaooo like i literally dreamt last night in a mix of spanish and english ahahahah cos when i think about it i literally have not ever regularly spoken spanish, ive only really spoken for activies in class or speaking exams so no wonder i have 0000 confidence in my speaking abilities but im hopeful that this will really improve my speaking :) about my job i guess- i work in a high school and i really enjoy interacting with the kids they really do make every day different and more interesting so i am grateful for them but sometimes damnnn sometimes i wanna jump out the window especially with this third year class they are the class KNOWN for being a bitof a pain lol and sometimes i have to lead the class by myself lmaooo mid u ik im 20 but i dont look it and they certainly dont treat me like an adult or a teacher and ngl they are a bit disrespectful at times but also what are u gonna do they are 14 and i have no proper teaching experience to help them by myself i can only hope that im actuallt helping them learn english lol. it is quite difficult tho with my scottish accent to try and sound as clear as possible because i pronounce almost 100% of the vowel sounds differently than rp english which is what i think they are used to so i have to realllyyyy annunciate all my words and man is it tiring lol.

what else. im going to madrid this weekend with bestie and im really looking forward to having a relaxing and fun time but i still havent packed my bags looooooool i alwyas do this tho and its fine not a big deal at all but i def need to do it tonight cos im leaving tomorrow immediately after work so ill have to have an actual breakfast and take snacks with me. im really enjoying my time in spain or at least im trying to but i feel like i have pushed myself enough out my comfort zone to be able to look back on this and say yeah i really took advantage of that. like i think i need to be more personable (is that a word yes it is i used it right) in teaching and be more interactive with them and stuff also i feel like i shoulve arranged a language exchange sooner cos i think this will really help, and i need to interact more with the other assistant but the thing is is im just not a sociable personnnnnnn aghgh. any way cutting this short cos i need to pack my bags for my trupppppp

[moemoemammon]

I just found ur blog and read thru some of ur stuff and im in love !! Ur writing is nice to read, and always gives a nice picture of the situation

If its aight, could u do some headcannons for the demon bros Finding out mc goes real hard on housekeeping ? Im talking fast and good cleaning, does chores without problems, propably even cleans after them (totally doesnt mother them in anyway), all without complaint, mc just cares

Housekeeper MC!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

The fact that he didn't have to shove a mop and bucket into your hands like the evil stepmother has him like 👀👀

Out of every person he's met, you and Barb are the only ones that actually enjoy cleaning? And now he's wondering if you've been influenced by him in some way because got damn are those floors sparkling-

Ever since you've arrived, the house has been immaculate. But as much as he enjoys that, he worries that you aren't leaving enough chores for his brothers to do.

They're gonna be lazy at this rate, especially if you keep cleaning up after them like that. He's planning to sit you down and have a good talk about how you should rest a bit, and- D...did you polish his desk????

"MC... as grateful as I am to you, I thought I asked you to rest? You don't have to clean every little thing in this house. You're here as our guest, and more, so I won't have you behaving like a maid. But if you're that interested in keeping your hands busy, you may feel free to maintain my desktop. It looks as good as new, thanks to you."

Mammon

Oh, so you're one of THOSE types, huh? The goody goodies that like to make everything clean and sparkly, huh?? Well don't expect him to help ya!

Was an asshole at first. Made messes to see if you'd clean them, tried to dump his chores on you, etc. But now that you've stolen his heart? Yeah, he wants you to sit down.

You're messing up your hands with all that time spent scrubbing crevices and dusting ugly old paintings, when you could be spending time with him!

Tch, that's it! If it's chores that're keeping you from looking his way, he'll just finish them before you can do anything! Checkmate!

"You're always scrubbin' somethin'! Let my brothers take care of the messes, while YOU sit down and watch this movie with me! Ain't no point in watchin' it by myself, so I ain't takin' no for an answer!" "Huh?? Waddya mean 'when was the last time I vacuumed'??"

Levi

Oi oi oi...! What do you think you're doing with that feather duster?! You don't think you've got the right to approach his figures with it, do you?! WRONG!

But you quickly discover how ticklish Levi is, and he squirms out of your way while watching in horror as you... delicately handle every figure? And dust them from top to bottom, without so much as an accessory out of place..?

Wait... are you seriously okay with picking up all that trash?? S-some of it's sticky from all the junk food, and- Gah! Don't go messing around in his closet!!!

Yeahhh Levi doesn't let you clean his room lmao. It's way too stimulating to watch you carefully touch every surface in his room... I-it's like you're heaven everything with your presence, and...

"S-so yeah! The only things you're allowed to clean are the figures and the outside of Henry's tank! Nothing else, got it?! Anything more and I seriously won't be able to handle it...I won't even be able to sit still in my own room......." 👉👈

Satan

Satan found it funny how willing you were to take up every little chore there was to be done in the house and he's got to admit, reading is much more enjoyable in a tidy environment.

But what he REALLY wants to know is how you managed to dust off every single book in the house, his room included, without him?? Knowing?? And you've done every shelf as well, cleaned out the cobwebs behind it, and even repaired that little tear in the upholstery of his favorite arm chair????

Has also deduced that you're probably the maid character in the books that knows everything. Actually, you're a lot like Barbatos. What secrets are you hiding human 🔫

Just kidding. But yeah, when you insist on dusting his room, he follows you around the room and watches you. You know, just in case you fall or something falls on you! No other reason.

"As much as I like having you here all to myself, it makes me feel bad watching you do that by yourself. Why don't you we clean together? We'll get it done twice as fast, and when we're finished, I'd like to read a book to you. You remind me of a certain character from a murder mystery novel I've started."

Asmo

Eeehhh?!?!? You've seriously managed to organize both his endless skin care product collection, and his ENTIRE wardrobe?!? You're amazing...!

And you don't stop there. You were more than happy to clean his tub for him and everything, and you know how hard it is to get oil off the side of a tub, right? You're a lifesaver!

Asmo casually pawns off his chores too you. Oh, he just did his nails! Can you do the dishes? Ah, he just bought this outfit. Can you take out the trash? He's about to go out with his friends to a party, so be a dear and take care of the common bathroom for him?

Lucifer scolds the shit out of him every time he catches him doing that. You're welcome. But don't think Asmo won't repay you! He'll give you so much love, you'll be drowning in it! Figuratively or literally, depending on your preferences-

"Fufufu... if you wanted my attention, you should've just told me! You didn't have to go tidying up my shoe collection, but I'm happy you did~! If you keep spoiling me like this, I might not be able to keep my hands off of you! Unless... that's what you wanted?"

Beel

Things tend to get pretty messy with Beel around, with the trail of crumbs he always leaves in his wake, and how he manages to get every surface he touches sticky. But you must be a miracle worker...

You're like a living roomba, and his ravenous appetite is no match against your cleaning skills! You seem to predict when the food bits will fall, and it's thanks to you that he can eat without a care in the world!

It's actually kind of scary, though. He'll drop a bite of his sandwich and move down to retrieve it to eat, and... it's gone. Poof. Into the ether of the garbage can...

You can still rest once in a while though, you know? Beel offers to help you with the cleaning, and he's more than happy to let you climb up his shoulders to reach those high places. It makes him happy to know he can lend a hand.

"MC, I already cleaned over here so you don't have to do it. I cleaned there, too. That means you don't have anything else to do, so why don't you have a lunch break with me? It's not good to work so hard all the time."

Belphie

Belphie's one for the more observant brothers, so your clean freak habits didn't go unnoticed. He didn't know if you were obsessed with cleaning, or if you genuinely enjoyed it, but at least you were doing it without a fuss?

And man did you do a good job. Everywhere you cleaned was left with the lingering smell of vanilla and lavender, and... you know, the smell is making him sleepy.

Every pillow his head touches seems especially fluffy, too! When he found out you made a regular habit of washing and fluffing them, and they smell amazing... He feels like he's laying on a cloud...

He won't admit it genuinely, but he really does love what you're doing with the place. It makes him feel a little fuzzy inside when he finds his pillow on his bed, freshly laundered and soft to the touch. He clings to it extra tight those nights.

"You know if you keep this up, I might prefer the pillows to your lap. Ah, but don't worry, I don't really mean it. There's no way a pillow could replace you, no matter how good it smells. I think."

[messers-moony]

Chaser at Heart | J.P

Paring: James Potter X Fem!Reader

Summary: Without realizing it James Potter has always been a Chaser regardless of his Quidditch position.

Everybody wondered where James Potter got his snitch that he played with. Rumors had been created, but only James and Y/n knew the real truth. The most common story was that James and his Marauders nicked it from a supply closet. The honest question was, why did James play with a snitch when he was a Chaser?

Y/n knew. James - even as a boy - had brilliant reflexes. They met in a field that was near both their houses. James went to the field to sit by the lake or even swim in the lake. Y/n climbed the trees and read books on the safety of the wooden bark. But one day, she wasn’t as lucky. Y/n fell from the branch she was sitting on, and James chased after her to catch her. 

Brilliant reflexes James had. At eight years old, he caught her and ran fast enough to do so. Y/n was waiting for impact, but she never felt it. Instead, two arms had been wrapped around her. One under her knees and one around her back. Instantly she was met with hazel eyes. 

They were beautiful. A gorgeous mix of green and brown. But it wasn’t mixed like paint - no - it was mixed like old and vinegar, separated but together. His hair was shaggy and a mess. It was a beautiful chocolate brown color to match the brown in his eyes. The grass could resemble the green in his eyes. Peonies represented the pink in his cheeks. 

The boy smiled, and Y/n smiled sheepishly back, “Afternoon.”

“Afternoon, sir.”

“Sir?” James repeated teasingly, “Do I look thirty?”

Y/n laughed, “Sorry. Force of habit.”

James set her on her own two feet, “Pureblood then too?”

“How did you know I was a witch?”

“Your scarf.”

She looked down to see the gold and maroon-colored scarf, “Oh. In that case, yes, I am a pureblood. You?”

“Me too.” James stated proudly, “Family of Gryffindors.”

“Me as well.”

James took her hand and kissed the back of it, “James Potter, at your service.”

Y/n blushed at his action, “Y/n L/n, at your service.”

From that point, Y/n and James became close friends. They’d switch between going to the lake or climbing trees. Thankfully their families knew each other, so becoming friends only brought them closer. In fact, Euphemia was so grateful to have Y/n’s mother closer now that their children were friends. Fleamont was delighted to be closer with Y/n’s father. 

Fleamont Potter delved in Potion making while his wife Euphemia worked at St. Mungo’s, helping wizards and witches all around London. Y/n’s father worked with magical creatures, and her mother worked with Euphemia. James and Y/n got extraordinarily lucky. They were together almost every day. 

Meeting at the age of eight gave them three years of being friends before going to Hogwarts. They were close by the age of eleven - really close. They stood side by side as they got on the Hogwarts Express and shared a compartment. James and Y/n talked animatedly until a knock at the container startled them. 

“Um- Hello, everywhere else is full. May I sit?” 

The boy had sandy hair and green eyes. Scars littered his body as far as the eye could see. He was rather tall for an eleven-year-old too, but he seemed nice enough. His voice had a thick welsh accent. It made his language a bit incoherent, but James and Y/n knew what he was trying to say. Nevertheless, James put on a bright smile. 

“Of course!”

He gave a nervous smile looking at Y/n, “Come on. We don’t bite. Although James gets pretty loud.” Y/n smiled.

The boy sat hesitantly beside Y/n, “I’m Remus, Remus Lupin.”

“Brilliant to meet you, Remus; I’m James Potter.”

“And I’m Y/n L/n.”

Another hour went by with James and Y/n starting to get to know Remus. They learned that he was a half-blood and that he thoroughly enjoyed books. Y/n and Remus bonded over that while James was listening aimlessly, just enjoying the sound of Y/n’s voice. But another knock interrupted the conversation. This time a more confident boy showed up. 

He was about the same height as James. He had dark brunet hair - darker than James’ - and blue-grey eyes. His smile was almost perfectly white and straight. His face structure was defined and chiseled. A cocky smiled grazed his features. 

“‘Ello!” He exclaimed, “I was wondering if I could sit here. I just got kicked out of every other compartment.”

Remus and Y/n shrugged; they looked at James, “Sure.” James replied, patting the seat beside him, “Come sit, uh….”

“Sirius, Sirius Black.” Sirius finished sitting beside James as both purebloods dropped their jaws. 

“Black? As in the Noble House of Black?” Y/n questioned, and Sirius nodded, “Indeed.”

James stuck out his hand, “James Potter.” Sirius shook his hand. 

“Y/n L/n.”

“You two are purebloods too. Gryffindor purebloods.” Sirius commented, “Yep!” They replied simultaneously. 

Sirius eyed the nervous-looking boy, “And you?”

“Rem- Remus Lupin.” 

The entire rest of the trip - seven hours - was spent talking—no more interruptions. Y/n, Remus, James, and Sirius all got to know each other. The four of them stayed together through everything until the sorting. They all stood near each other while Professor McGonagall began to call names. James was practically shaking in his boots. Y/n grasped his hand tightly. 

“You’ll be okay.” Y/n whispered, and James squeezed her hand thankfully, “Thanks, you too.”

Multiple names were called in alphabetical order of last name until finally B’s were beginning to get called, “Sirius Black!”

Y/n kissed his cheek, making Sirius blush profusely, “You’ll be fine.”

Sirius nodded as he pushed his way through the crowd of first years. Anybody in the wizarding world knew about the Noble House of Black. They were one of the most respected pureblood families. Most known for their line of Slytherins. Sirius Black sat on the stool and waited patiently as the hat spoke in his ear. His cousins watching eagerly from the Slytherin table. 

Silence cut through the crowd until, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The Great Hall was as quiet as a mouse. A Black in Gryffindor? The rival house to Slytherin, that was a no-go. James and Y/n exchanged nervous glances that said everything that needed to be - Sirius Black was going to be in big trouble. More names got called. Remus began to rock on his heels nervously. 

“Remus Lupin!”

Again, the process repeated itself. Remus took his seat on the stool, and the hat was placed upon his head, making its commented in the boy's ear. Remus’ hands wouldn’t stop moving, and it was making Y/n want to throw up. 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor table yelled and cheered. Sirius Black upon them as a blissful smile placed itself upon Remus’ features. He stepped off the stood giving James and Y/n a grateful smile before sitting beside Sirius at the Gryffindor table. A red and gold tie was placed around his shoulders. His green eyes crinkled due to the cheerful smile on his lips. 

Attendance seemed to be going slower - or so that’s how it felt - because of how close they were approached the P’s. James’ grip on Y/n’s hand began to get tighter, and his hand began to feel clammy. Y/n didn’t mind. 

“James Potter!”

“Oh, Merlin…” James muttered before squeezing Y/n’s hand one more time. 

Before stepping on the stool, he looked back at Y/n, who gave him a reassuring smile. James Potter sat upon the seat, and once again, the hat was placed above his hair. Within seconds the hat seemed to have made its decision. 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Y/n screamed loudly for him along with the Gryffindor table. James’ hazel eyes met her e/c ones, and he winked. The boy took his spot across from Sirius and watched eagerly at his best friend waiting to be sorted. Sirius snapped his fingers in James' face to get his attention. 

“How’d you meet?” Sirius inquired, “Mm?”

“How did you meet her?” 

“Oh, she fell out of a tree, and I caught her.” James replied distantly, still looking at his best friend left alone in the smaller crowd. 

“She’s nice.”

James nodded at Remus’ comment, “Definitely. She’s brilliant.”

Finally, they got to her last name. James was on his tipping point, and Sirius smiled reassuringly - like she had when he began to sit on the stood, “She’ll be fine. You know that.”

“I do, but still.”

Y/n couldn’t fathom her excitement yet nervousness. She was a walking contradiction. Carefully, not to step on her robes while her legs felt like jelly, she moved through the relatively small crowd. Only about ten kids remained now. Y/n sat on the stool and made direct eye contact with James, who threw her the most reassuring look possible. 

“Curious, very curious.” The hat spoke in her ear, “Loyal, hardworking yet courageous and stupidly brave.”

Y/n almost snickered, “What a brilliant Hufflepuff you’d make.”

“Please, Gryffindor. Please, Gryffindor.” 

“Gryffindor? Are you sure?” The hat queried, “Please.” Y/n begged. 

If the sorting hat could’ve shrugged, he would’ve, “If that’s what you think.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

James stumbled from the Gryffindor table as Y/n got off the stool with the same smile Remus had. The blissful, relaxed, and cheery smile. On his way out from the table, he almost fell, but he chased his way to her until Y/n was wrapped in his arms. Y/n placed her nose in the crook of his neck while James’ face was buried in her hair. They pulled away, and James led her to sit beside him. 

“Told you she’d be fine.” Sirius remarked, “I worry.” James retorted with a smile. 

Y/n fiend offense, “You were worried! Where’d you think I’d go? Slytherin?”

“Absolutely not!” James exclaimed, “Jus’ didn’t want to be separated from you.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers, “You aren’t getting rid of me.”

“Neither are you two.” Y/n pointed at the boys across from her, “Welcome to our group of four.”

“We’ve gotta come up with a better name for that.” Remus replied as the other three nodded, “Definitely.”

The boys and the girls had different dormitories. Y/n shared her dorm with three other girls named Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, and Lily Evans. Meanwhile, James, Remus, Sirius shared a dorm where they met a new boy with blond hair and blue eyes named Peter Pettigrew, who quickly was added to their group of four, which was now five. 

James and Y/n shared almost every class aside from History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Instead, Y/n had History of Magic with Remus and Lily. At the same time sharing Defense Against the Dark Arts with Remus as well. She also became quick friends with her roommate, Marlene, through Quidditch. Y/n always admired James while he practiced being Chaser, while Y/n was his fake Keeper. 

Throughout first year the new additions to their original duo learned how mischievous these two were. Y/n had an intelligent mind with practically foolproof plans, and James had the resources to make those plans work. Sirius was quick to join their prank-making wonders while Remus tended to stick with Y/n in making plans. Peter joined whenever he could. 

Soon enough, the group was known as the pranksters around Hogwarts. Surprisingly enough, they were proud of their newfound title. They were all sitting in the boys' dorms. James, Y/n, and Sirius were talking about Quidditch. Peter was practicing the new incantation that Professor Flitwick had taught them, and Remus was reading. When out of nowhere, Remus exclaimed. 

“I got it!”

“Got what, mate?” James questioned as the chatter stopped, and they all looked at the sandy-haired male, “Our group name!”

Y/n perked up, “Whatcha got, Remmy?”

“The Marauders!”

“Marauders?” Sirius repeated, confused, “What does that mean?”

Remus sighed, and Y/n giggled, “Marauders is another word for raiders, you idiot.”

“I like it.” Sirius commented, “I do too!” Peter interject. 

The three looked at the original duo; Y/n shrugged, “Good call, Rem.”

“How about it, James?” 

“I think it’s excellent! The Marauders it is!” 

Henceforth, their legacy grew and were now known as the five Marauders. They were all known for something. James, good at getting resources. Sirius, good at persuading. Peter, the most logical. Remus, the brains of every mission. Finally, Y/n, the most reckless. Y/n is the one who’d go in first always; she was also the one with the most detentions. 

In the second year, Y/n became more intuitive, observant, and curious about Remus. She noticed in the first year a pattern of when he’d get sick or his mother's sudden illness once a month. She was no stranger to these creatures as her father had worked with them for years. So before the first full moon of the new term, Y/n pulled Remus aside. 

“You said you wanted to speak with me?” Remus inquired, and Y/n nodded, “I know.”

“Know about what?”

“I know.” 

Remus rocked on his heels, “O- Oh….”

“Don’t worry, nobody else knows. Although they may have or will find out.” Y/n assured, but Remus still looked nervous, “Remus.”

She placed her hands on his taller shoulders, “You aren’t a monster. I’ve seen werewolves before.”

“You- You have?”

“My father works with magical creatures.” Y/n answered, “Werewolves are included.”

“Personally, I think they’re beautiful.” She stated, and tears grew in Remus’ eyes, “You do?”

“Of course, I do.” Y/n smiled, and Remus pulled her in for a hug, “Thank you.”

“Anytime and if you need anything. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.”

Eventually, Sirius found out next, which quite honestly baffled Remus. Then James and then finally Peter, who was definitely the most oblivious of the Marauders. But to Remus’ astonishment, they were all accepting. They loved Remus as much as his mom, which - in reality - was quite a lot. Every night after full moons, he’d find all four of them sitting beside him. 

James would bring games to play for when he felt up for it. Peter got his books and set them on the table beside him. Sirius brought sweets and his stupidly funny jokes. Y/n held his hand and comforted him the best he could. Honestly, Y/n gave the best head scratches, and he definitely took advantage of it. 

Second-year was also the time for new Quidditch players to join the team. James and Sirius were about to try out but were undeniably nervous. The morning of, neither of them ate, too worried to think about eating, scared of throwing it up later on the pitch. 

“You both are tossers.” Y/n suddenly stated, “You’ll both make the team, and then we’ll celebrate it later, yeah?”

They nodded, “Good. Now get yourselves outta this funk. It’s annoying.”

It was unavoidable. They didn’t just get out of their funk until they got on the pitch. Before James and Y/n separated - her to the seats and him to the pitch - he took ahold of her hand. Squeezing it tightly with his eyes closed. His broom in his other hand that was trembling slightly. Y/n took her hand from his and placed her hands on his cheeks. 

“You’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Promise promise?” James asked, “Promise promise.” Y/n confirmed. 

She let go of his face and began to run off to catch up with Remus, “Good luck!” 

“Thanks.” James murmured to himself, “I’ll need it.”

Without a doubt, James was the best Chaser the Gryffindor had ever seen. Sirius was one hell of a beater too. Marlene even tried out for the new Beater position too. Four parts needed to be filled due to seventh-years leaving. Two Beaters, one Chaser, and one Keeper. Y/n and Remus were crossing their fingers that they all got the positions they wanted. 

The following week the results were posted. James, Sirius, and Marlene made the team! Y/n would never forget the gleeful smile that passed its way onto James’ face or the way Sirius laughed. She’d never seen them so happy before. Remus and her stood feet away from their little party, his arm thrown around her shoulders. 

“It’s nice to see them this way.”

“It is.”

Remus teasingly nudged her hip, “Seems like James has always been a Chaser.”

“What's that suppose to mean?” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows at the lycanthrope, “You’ll see it eventually.”

Y/n didn’t pry. It wasn’t worth it, especially when it’s with Remus. Remus was the ultimate secret keeper and cynical. He said things that made you think but would never tell you what they mean. Eventually, more years passed and they were in the summer going into their seventh year. 

James invited Y/n to stay the summer at the Potter manor, and she did. It was possibly one of the best summers he’s ever had with her being so close. Mrs. Potter seemed to know what Remus was talking about when she threw looks at her husband when the two best friends were together. But it was one evening that they were all watching a movie when someone came through the Floo Network. 

They jumped up from the couch to see a roughed-up Sirius Black, “Sirius!” 

James was frozen along with his two parents, but Y/n wasn’t. She was haste to get Sirius up from the floor to help him stand. He had a nasty cut below his right eye and what seemed to be more all across his body which his mother could only do. But instantly, Y/n had been ordering James around while Sirius laid on his back on the couch. 

Thankfully, Y/n knew what to do and Euphemia, but she was frozen, still watching her son's best friend take care of their other best friend. James set everything she needed beside her as she began to work quickly. James sat next to her in case she needed anything else. Y/n tore off his shirt and lifted his pants to right over the edge of his boxers. 

“James, hold his hand.” Y/n ordered, and he did it, “I’m so sorry, Sirius, but this’ll sting.”

And it did. Sirius groaned and constantly hissed as Y/n helped his wounds, the muggle way. Euphemia stared in shock, no longer frozen, but it was evident that Y/n had complete control over the situation and needed no extra help. Within an hour, Sirius was brand new. Y/n had carefully used potions and other bandages to help. 

“What happened, Sirius?” 

He chuckled bitterly, “My mother.”

“No shit.” James retorted, “Why?”

“I’ve been burned off the tapestry. I’m not aloud back because I denied them.”

“Denied them?” Y/n inquired. 

“Of you know what.”

“Oh…” Y/n whispered. 

“Yeah, oh.” Sirius chuckled again - venom lacing. 

Euphemia exchanged looks with her husband, “You’re welcome to stay here.”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you guys.” Sirius denied hesitantly, and Fleamont shrugged, “Where else are you going to go?”

Sirius stayed silent, “We don’t mind, Sirius. You’ve stayed here before. Euphemia loves having you around just as much as I do.”

“You may not be our son biologically.” Euphemia began as she knelt in front of Sirius, “But you’ll always be our son.”

A single tear fell from Sirius’ eye, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, dear.”

James and Y/n exchanged looks of pure glee, but Euphemia caught their eye, “No mischief, you two.”

They sighed, “Fine.”

The duo pulled Sirius up from the couch and led him to his new bedroom. Euphemia watched Y/n and James work in perfect symphony as if they were a made team from the start. Fleamont pulled his wife to his side, watching them both as well. How perfectly his son worked with her. How amazingly gentle he was with her. 

“He may not know it yet, but he loves her.” Euphemia broke the silence, “Reminds me of us.”

Fleamont quirked an eyebrow, “How so?”

“You always had this dopey grin on your face. The same one James has when Y/n’s around. It’s been that way since they met. When he first mentioned her name, he had that grin. He’s chased her all these years.” 

“Perhaps our son has always been a Chaser at heart.” Fleamont commented, “Perhaps.”

It wasn’t until the first Quidditch match he realized. When he was chasing Y/n around to try and hug her after the game they had won against Ravenclaw. Y/n prohibited hugs after Quidditch matches. Yet here James was chasing her around the pitch with her a screaming mess. 

Lily, Marlene, and Remus were laughing loudly at him, “Y/n! Y/n come on!” 

“Absolutely not!” Y/n yelled while running, “I told you no hugs after matches.”

She spoke too soon because while she was talking, she had slowed down without noticing. Leaving James to wrap his arms around her from behind. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck while she leaned back into him. 

“See! You love my hugs.” James exclaimed, “Whatever.” Y/n retorted. 

Remus chuckled at them from afar, “They’re definitely in love.” 

“How hasn’t she seen it yet?” Lily chuckled, “Oh, he’s been chasing her for years. Since before Hogwarts.” Remus replied. 

“Chaser at heart that one,” Sirius stated putting his arm around the lycanthrope. 

James realized it then and there. With her in his arms. He was sweaty and full of joy. She was wholly melted into his embrace. His arms around her neck and her arms on top of his biceps. James realized there was nowhere else he’d rather be than with her at this moment. So he pulled her around, facing her. 

“Y/n.” 

“James.”

Without a second thought, he pulled her in and kissed her. His arms were moving down to her waist and hers around his shoulders. He was so gentle and soft with her. As if she was the finest China he’d ever owned. Godric James was so soft and so sweet. Y/n’s hands went through his sweaty hair. 

The whistles and cheers are what pulled them apart, “Finally!”

“It’s about time you realized!” Remus exclaimed happily, “He’s been chasing you for years!”

Y/n smiled at him, and James put his arm around her shoulder, “My chaser.” 

“I’ll always chase you, love.”

Years later, that snitch James always played with would be the same one McGonagall had taken from him one day in the seventh year. It was the same snitch that Harry had almost swallowed in his first year. The same snitch that Dumbledore returned to Harry in his seventh year. 

The snitch? It was given to James from Y/n when they were nine. It was an honorary friendship gift. The snitch wasn’t stolen. The snitch wasn’t nicked. The snitch was a gift to a chaser who never stopped chasing till the very end. 

[animesugar]

ur obsessed

NSFW// under 18 and ageless DNI

college au, asshole!jean, fem bodied reader

cw// unprotected sex, creampie, power play (but everybody's into it) hatefucking kind of, there's nothing crazy in here but pls lmk if i missed anything

i am down bad for this man and also a good enemies to lovers arc. also this is my first one of these so pls enjoy, it's a little slow angst in the beginning but she picks up don't you worry.

what a stupid smirk. you hated the motherfucker staring at you from across the quad that was doing his best to get a rise out of you, and you had ever since his stupid undercut walked into your freshman dorm as a mid semester transfer 3 years ago. He was a prick through and through, but the kind that a less perceptive person would dismiss as charming, so he got away with it. Always 3 stops past the cutoff between funny and mean, he jaunted around campus like a king, surrounded by a mostly constant gaggle of equally-dickish (but admittedly not as clever) boys and a few token brunettes. You weren’t really sure what had made him single you out that first day to get picked on, and it wasn’t really anything obnoxious. Maybe you just weren’t in the mood to be toyed with. Maybe you didn’t want him to think you were buying into the bit. Either way, rolling your eyes and shoving his bigass head out of your face before he even got a chance to bug you at point blank range had made you antagonist number one in his eyes ever since. For three years, Kirstein comma Jean had been like a single fruit fly that just wouldn't die, buzzing around just enough to never anticipate it but to always be infuriated when it came. Sometimes, it was holding the door just long enough for you to be hit with it when he let go. Sometimes, he would spill your drink at the bar under the auspice of grinding on the girl next to you. Sometimes, it was making sure you never got to keep the same seat in any of the classes you had together, taking whatever desk you seemed to have claimed. Your only form of communication with the enemy was a morse code of eye rolls and scoffs, because you weren't even sure if the ashy-blonde beast could understand human language, so why bother. But this strategy backfired because why would anyone believe that someone who you never talk to is actually antagonizing you on purpose. He’s just popular, your friends would say, so he’s kind of in everyone’s way. He’s just everywhere all the time, it’s not personal. And honestly, they would jeer, you’ve made it clear to him to leave well enough alone. And that was true. Jean certainly wasn’t in any shortage of willing victims for his games. Most girls knew that they had a 6 in 10 shot of the taunting turning into something a little more satisfying, and the rumor was that his after hours performances were worth the price of admission. Anyway, Jean’s grating presence had been a constant in the campus ecology since that fucker stepped foot in your freshmen hall, and while you definitely thought about it a lot, your conclusion was that he was just a cocky, conceited, always-cons-his-way, asshole, and so you had long since squashed any ember of desire to be one of the stupid girls in his bed that played the game.

But then, a few weeks ago, some friends asked you if the rumor was true. You watched their faces twist into a smirk as they interpreted your confused look for feigned innocence. Oh c.mon, Jean!! they drew that little fuck’s name out in a mocking tone, I heard you two fucked in the middle of the quad last night. huh?? Wait, I thought it was the quad last saturday and the back hallway of the student center last night!! What?? Your friends are howling laughing, thinking its just toooo good that you finally broke what they saw as obvious sexual tension. Flustered and beet red, you dart your head around, worried someone else heard these accusations. But then again, after a second you thought your friends were just fucking with you. They had long since decided that the running joke would be you and Jean ever getting together, so you started to relax and felt the blood leave your flushed cheeks as you waited for them to get to the punchline.

Except there wasn’t one.

Well, not for you, anyway. 

Your friends watched the look on your face settle and in turn their eyes widened. Wait, so it’s true? they ask, taking your trust in their comedic timing as a proud guilty plea. “What, no,” you say, “of course not! You guys are just fucking around right? Thats hilarious, me fucking somebody out in the open, let alone him.” You laugh through your sentence and your friends' faces grow apprehensive. uhh, no, we actually heard that from Jean...

“What. what do you mean”

They eyed each other then looked back to you.

“What do you mean Jean told you that”

I mean...  he’s been bragging to everyone about it.

Your head whips back around to the little fuck across the quad that is now starting to walk towards you, raking four lanky fingers through his hair. Goddamn it. holy fuck you hate him. He’s so so just........

What’s a matter?? ask him yourself! They all laughed and started to gather their things, a gesture that on the surface was polite but really they just wanted to watch you confront him with no out. 

As he strode up to the blanket you’d been sunbathing on all afternoon, you finally allowed him the satisfaction of a glance, trying desperately to telepathically tell him that you know his little game and he won’t get his way with you.  You wont get bothered, in fact he can say whatever he likes. You are not stupid enough to be so smitten by an idiot. But, when he dropped down to eye level with you, meeting your glare with a cutting pull at the corner of his mouth, the realization that none of those thoughts had actually reached him hits you.

You roll your eyes, an expected next step in your litany of attempted communication with the enemy, and as you started to get, Jean grabs your forearm with a big hand.

“What, now you’re embarrassed to be here with me? From what I hear it should take a lot more than some spectators to pry you away from me.”

He breaks into a full grin and chuckles to himself, so so pleased with his little joke. 

“Fuck right off, Jean, it’s so embarrassing for you that you’re trying to tell people that.” His face softens a bit but the bite is still there, “Anyway, I would never even dream of fucking you, let alone with potential witnesses.” You yank your arm out of his grasp and stand up, gathering your bag and laptop in a swift motion. Turning, you bend down to grab a fistful of the blanket he’s still pinning down, “Get off my fucking blanket, asshole” you hiss. He chuckles and obliges, standing up and cocking his head to the side, “oh, you’re angrier than I thought you’d be. Well, remember, the number one rule to not getting caught is never return to the scene of the crime, but unfortunately for us,” he looks around and spreads his arms in a sweeping gesture, “we’ve just incriminated ourselves and our actions last saturday.” His grin creeps back full-force as he drops his arms back to his sides. You can only scoff and turn away, making your way back home to the dorms. God, you hate him, you think to yourself. You also hate that his voice is stuck in your head now, and you’re kicking yourself for lingering a little too long on the thought that actually, this is the first time you’ve had a conversation with him.

Over the next week or so the rumors still swirled, but since he had been such a predictable prick to you that day in the quad, you decide to fight fire with fire. Protesting and denying will only make things worse, you reason. Jean was such a manwhore that it was universally and absolutely less likely that he hadn’t slept with someone than that he had, so denying this would be working against the current. No, you think to yourself, I’ll use some leverage. 

Which is how you had decided to start telling anyone who would lend an ear that yes, in fact, you had fucked Jean. And he was terrible. My god, he was the worst fuck you’d had in your life. Was it small they’d ask? And not one to give into the cheap shot, you would assure them that no, it was worse than that. It was long enough, but skinny, and he had no idea how to use it. He fucked like the only porn he watches is women taping hairbrushes to broken washing machines, you told them.

Finally feeling like you had gotten the one up on this little fuck, you spent the next few days happily applying all of the worst hook-up stories you or your friends had to Mr. Kirstein, relishing even more that the risk of vulnerability you had taken was paying off. 

Finishing up a group project in class the next day, you start to pack your things as you put the final details on a new tidbit of Jean’s apparent failings for your group partners.

"Oh yeah," you said, "he was biting at my leg for 10 minutes, apparently he thought I was telling him to stop and move because i was cumming. That motherfucker couldn’t find a clit if it took him by the hand."

Laughing to themselves, your group partners shuffled out with the rest of the class. You had stayed back for a minute to finish an email to the TA, and as you look up to shut your laptop, you see a large, lanky hand shutting it for you.

“So, this is the game we’re playing?” a voice questions from above.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve just been hearing rumors,” You say in a coy taunt. “Anyway, I need to go, so if you’d please unhand my things I’d really appreciate it.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re in on it now, let’s workshop some stories together,” Jean says through a shit-eating grin as he replaces your computer with his ass on your desk, “I think we would make a better team than you seem to suggest.”

“Hmm..” you muse, pantomiming deep thought, then turning to him with a glare “Thanks, this actually has given me some ideas. I think i’ll start telling them that you begged like a dog for it. Yeah, I think thats the cherry on top. I can hear the gossip now, ‘Jean Kirstein begs to disappoint.’ Oh yeah, I think thats great.’ You chuckle to yourself as you go to zip your backpack when you feel his hand grab your shoulder.

“Do you really think I’d beg?”

It catches you off guard. the motion, the tone, everything about what Jean just did was loaded. Was this a trick to get you to look like the beggar? Was he actually mad? No, you thought, this felt.....

no, you shook the thought. It didn't matter if it was genuine. It didn't matter if he really wanted to beg you, here and now, to let him fuck you. He was awful, you knew that. You could never forgive yourself for succumbing to him. So you wouldn’t.

“Yeah, actually. I think you’re such a pathetic shell of a man that you would beg. And why wouldn’t I think that? You beg for every scrap of attention anyone gives you.”

He pushes you back, squaring your shoulders off to him as he situates himself on the desk sitting directly in front of you. Your shoulders between his knees, he leans forward and rests his forearms on his thighs, long fingers dangling loosely and grazing your chest.

“I do? You think I beg?’ he asks softly.

Fuck. You sat as still as you could, focusing on steadying your breath and not showing the flush that had just swelled through your cheeks. Staring straight ahead into his abdomen to avoid eye contact, you feel fingertips gently but firmly pushing your forehead back, forcing you to look up at him. Fuck, he’s not letting me hide you think. Goddamnit, this was hot.

But you can’t give up the game. You can’t let him think he’s won.

“God, you fuckin perv. Of course you have to beg. Who would fuck you of their own accord?”

His fingertips fall back down between his knees. He hums then sucks his teeth, “Oh c’mon baby, dont be so mean-”

“Baby?? who the fuck are you calling baby you pretentious little fuck?” you bark at him. The rage you felt towards him had suddenly reappeared in you kind, clearing the fog that his soft touch had created. “Goddamn, I literally can’t even believe you’re trying this right now. Do you really think this is a tease game or something? God, you’re not only horrible in theory, you’re pathetic in person, And that's fucking worse.”

You bite your tongue at that last word. Damn, you really hated him but you didn’t want to stoop to his level and just be fuckin’ mean. The way his face was draining of color made you think you took it too far, and your posture softened, bracing to apologize-

“Say it again”

what? you're speechless for a beat.

“What?”

His pupils start to dilate just enough to notice, and his breath is a little shakey when he asks, “Call me pathetic again, y/n, and maybe i will beg you for it, is that what you want?”

You aren’t sure if he's teasing or begging, but that confusion is allowing the wall that you had pent up any and all desire for him behind to come crashing down. God, he’s terrible, but... You decide to play along like he’s begging, refusing to give him the win of being in control here. Well, thats what you tell yourself, you're honestly so confused about the dynamics in play that your head is spinning. Which is how you got into this situation anyway.

“Yeah, beg for it you pathetic, disgusting fuck. Look at you, panting and pale just from the thought that maybe you’ll cop a feel.”

Something in your mind flips again and all of the rage and annoyances from the last three years flood back to your brain. You hated him. You hated him so so much. He was so mean to you and so obnoxious and everybody loved him and you didn’t get it. And now, you're face to face with your enemy, hurling insults like a firing squad and he's just... taking it.

“y/n, do you really hate me?”

“Yes”

“Fuck” he groans, leaning back on his hands. Now that he wasn’t hunched over, you get a better view of the raging hard on barely contained under his sweats. “You really think about me that much, baby? Enough to hate me?” He stares at the ceiling in deep thought for a moment, then leans back in. “Well I guess that means I was doing something right.” He comes closer to your face and traces your jaw with his thumb, pushing your head slightly to the side. Feeling his hot breath on your ear he whispers, “I guess I will have to beg then, since you hate me so much. Will you let me do that, y/n, will you let me beg?”

Your face is hot and tingling from his touch. It would be so easy to just get up and leave him bothered and embarrassed, and isn’t that what you wanted? It was, you mused, but right now? In this moment, all you want is for him to beg you to let him fuck your brains out. You hate yourself for it, too, are you really that horny that even Jean is making the cut? Or, more horrifyingly, is he actually turning you on? Your internal struggle is cut short by the soft feeling of his teeth grazing your earlobe, and with that your fate is sealed.

“Yes, yes you can beg me for it, Jean” You utter.

With those words, his thumb falls from your jaw down your throat, his fingers following suit and delicately draping themselves on the other side of your neck. He takes a sharp breath, "Please y/n, can i kiss you right here? Please let me, y/n I can barely stand it"

Shuddering and resenting the goosebumps that have trailed his touch, you nod, stifling a whimper. You know that the second you vocalize a response, your lust will be betrayed and he'll know he's won. So you sit there stoically as he runs his lips down your neck, taking in your scent and groaning to himself before he steadies the gentle grip on your neck and lands a soft kiss just below your ear. He continues these little flutters, just the soft touch of his lips and tongue, all the way to your collarbone, where he realizes he's reached the boundary of his request. He drags his lips back up to your ear, and between kisses begs again.

"Please, can I please use my hands y/n? I gotta know if you feel as good as i think, i'm begging you."

The begging is driving you crazy. He looks up at you with half lidded eyes that plead even more desperately than his words.

"Where do you want to use your hands, Jean? Surely you don't think you've begged enough to get anywhere near my cunt, right?" you sneer down at him, putting on your best front and trying to sell that you aren't also aching for him at this point.

He gives you a pathetic look, almost like he's about to cry, and starts to kiss your neck again. "i just need to feel your tits, y/n, i need to taste them, ple-"

you grab a fistful of his hair and make him face you. "Oh, taste? you need to need to be more specific about your requests Jean, you only asked me to use your hands. Why do you deserve to use your mouth anymore, asshole?" The pounding heat growing between your legs is giving you newfound confidence in your harsh words. Fuck, this is so hot, he is so, so hot groveling for you. Was this really the payback for years of torment? No, he's clearly getting off on this too. You saw his dick twitch under the sweats when you grabbed his hair. No this isn't payback this is... this is some sort of sick hatefuck. At least for you. Probably.

"Fuck, baby you're right i don't. I won't push my luck again y/n I can't risk it. Can i just touch them, please?" He whimpers. Releasing the grip on his hair you say yes, and with that he moves from the desk he's been sitting on down to his knees. He pulls you the the edge of your seat by your waist with strong arms. Slipping his hands underneath your shirt you feel that the trail of goosebumps continues to follow his touch down your back then up your stomach. He stops kissing the crook of your neck and lets his breath collect where his lips once were as he unhooks the fasten of your bra, letting it fall slack gently and pulling his hands back to your now exposed chest.

He runs his thumbs over your painfully hard nipples with a look of ecstasy on his face. You can feel that you’ve already soaked through your underwear and he’s barely touched you, Fool, you scolded yourself. I'm a fool for him right now. Your hands instinctively run up his arms, then neck, then through his hair, anchoring themselves there as you pull him closer. “Please” he whimpers, “Please can i kiss them”

“Ye- yes” You breath out, lifting your arms for him as he guides your shirt over your head. With one in his hand and the other in his mouth, he takes your nipple in his teeth and sucks. He circles the other with his thumb, keeping it just as hard as the one he’s moaning into. You cradle his head close to your body, lost in the warm bliss you had been denying yourself all these years. 

“Fuck, baby, they’re so much better than I even imagined” he switches his hand and mouth

“oh, so you’ve imagined this, Jean?”

“mhm” he mumbles into a facefull of tit. He comes up for air, “Fuck, I have imagined taking you every way possible. I need to, baby, please. You’re the only one who makes me beg for you. For your attention, your time, your body. Fuck baby please let me, please.” He’s whining now, looking up at you with pleading eyes and running his hands all down your sides and up your back. That last ‘please’ makes your eyes roll back into your head as your knees spread involuntarily. But you couldn’t give up just yet.

“what exactly are you begging for Jean? You need to- to use your words” You choke out, stifling a moan from his big hands coming back up to your tits like they belonged there.

“Your pussy, baby, fuck I can see how soaked you are through your clothes. I need to play with it, to taste it, worship it, fill it. Fuck y/n please” He really looks like he might cry if you deny him, and the ache in your cunt is driving you to grind your hips against your chair. “please, baby, can I lick it for you? I know you wanna cum, I wanna make you cum baby. Can I please?”

All you can do is nod

He kisses down from your sternum to your stomach and finally the waistband of your pants. “I need you to stand up for me baby. I’m sorry to even ask more of you, but I just need you to help me so I can make you feel good.” He lifts your hips up like he’s helping you to your feet, and once upright he starts fingering the button of your jeans. As he undoes it and pulls down the zipper, a little whimper leaves your lips and draws a breathy chuckle out of him. Fuck, if this is a game, he’s winning you think. Shit.

But you can’t know how close to heaven this is for Jean. God, the thrill of a three year chase, culminating in this. You’re so perfect, so soft to the touch, and so mean when you want to be. He just wanted to prove to you that those things you said about him being a bad fuck weren’t true. He needed you to know that no one could make you feel like he could. And how could they? No one else has been able to keep your attention for as long as he has. He didn’t know why you still let him get a rise out of you, but he was constantly chasing that little rush he got whenever you would spare him a cutting look, eyes like daggers tracing down his skin. You were tantalizing, and you made it so much worse by never playing along. He had to earn your cooperation in his game. And he intended to do just that, fuck, he needed to.

He looks right in front of him to your now naked pussy, having taken off your soaked-through panties with your jeans. Big hands on your ass, he tilts his head up to you, “Thank you, baby, you’re too good to me. Please sit down now y/n, let me make you cum.”

You oblige, knees spread while you lean back into the chair, letting your dripping cunt hang from the edge, ready for Jean’s touch. With one hand on your inner thigh and the other gripping your waist he brought his mouth to your pussy, licking up and down, sprinkling kisses in between to keep you on edge. Dragging his tongue from your ass to your clit, he starts to suck on it and elicits a sharp whine out of you. Already starting to get close, you gasp again when you feel two long, rough fingers tease your hole. 

“Can I please feel it, y/n?” He mutters, basically inaudible because he’s kind of just asking your cunt. 

“Fuck, yes, Jean, just put them in. You taunt me enough anyway, you don’t need to be such a tease,” you huff, rolling your eyes in mock annoyance, a last ditch effort to convince him you need him to beg.

With that, He looks up at you with an evil glint in his eye and buries his fingers in your pussy, curling them up once he’s as deep as he can get to find the spot that will make you yelp. Hearing that he found it, he starts finger fucking you, stroking that little spot every few thrusts. God, he’s gonna make me cum, you think to yourself. But you don’t wanna just cum on his fingers. You wanna cum on his cock. You need to have it in you, especially if it’s anything like you’ve been imagining since you saw the dick print earlier. 

“Please cum for me, y/n, im begging you. I really need to feel you cum on my fingers, fuck.” He pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in.

“Fuck, you’re so so tight."

Out and back in.

“I just need you to cum for me please.”

Out and back in.

“Could you do that? Because I need to fuck you and I need to get you ready for my cock.” He’s whining his pleads over the lewd sound of your wet cunt, and as he’s begging to bury his dick in you he pushes you over the edge. Feeling that you’ve given in to his request as your walls push his fingers out, he stands over you and lifts you up by the waist.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s so good and i haven’t even put my dick in yet,” he moans into your ear. “Can I, please? I know I can make you feel even better than you do right now if I can use it. Can I use my cock, y/k?”

“Yes, yes Jean fuck you can use your cock. You can use it however you want” you say, panting. With that, he leans down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself and also letting you realize you haven’t actually kissed him yet. He guides you to the wall, pinning your back against it with his hips and pressing his forearm next to your head. Greedy kisses travel from your mouth and down your neck, interrupted only for him to mutter, “Y/n? can you please pull it out? I wanna feel you hold it.”

“Mhm,” you nod shakily, still recovering from the orgasm. You trace your fingers down his toned stomach to his waistband. Hooking a finger underneath, you pull the elastic out and down, grazing his hard cock as you guide the sweats down his hips. holy shit, he’s big, you realize as you take it in your hand, squeezing a little. 

“Fuck, y/n” he pushed his hips back into you. “Fuck can i put it in?”

“Mhm” you squeak.

He takes his dick out of your hand and into his, guiding it along your soaked pussy before he lines up the tip with your still throbbing hole. Holding it there, he hooks his other arm under your knee, lifting your leg and giving him unobstructed access to the cunt that he's been drunk on the thought of since he sat down on your desk.

You gasp when he pushes in, only the tip at first but, fuck, its enough to make you scream. 

“please, Jean, please all the way” 

“Shh,” he coos from the crook of your neck, “Pussy’s so good and tight, I gotta work my way in.” He says, rolling his hips into you one, two, three, more times until finally you feel his full length. Your hands tangled in his hair, all you can think about is how fucking good he’s stretching you out with his fat cock. Just like he did with his fingers, he pulls his dick all the way out of you before rewarding your soaked hole with a hard thrust back in. Over and over and over. You start to grind your hips into his, greedy for more as you let him wash over your senses.

“Please jean, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum again” you cry.

“Oh, now you’re the one begging, huh?” he’s fucking you like he’s made for you, every thrust more intoxicating than the last as he holds you up against the wall. You’re basically a ragdoll at this point, putty in his hands and he knows it, but he’s just so, so high off your fucked out face, blubbering his name while he strokes your starving pussy.

God, you’re even better than he ever imagined. He could keep this up for hours, a constant back and forth of his begging for you and your begging for him. He keeps his dick deep inside and flexes it, resting his face back in the crook of your neck and feeling you shiver at that little move. 

“God, I could fuck this pussy all day, y/n. Did you know how good you feel? You knew what you were keeping from me, huh? Goddamn” His tone isn’t begging anymore, you notice. It’s dominant and in control, but still just as infatuated with you. Which is just as well, because you don’t have the sense anymore to keep up the facade of needing him to beg. God, all you wanted was for him to use you like this for hours. You had already won, he had to beg to get here. You were just fine to surrender now, and fuck did surrender feel good.

“I want you to fuck me however you want, Jean,” you barely string the sentence together. At that, the evil little glint returns. He lifts you off his cock and bends you over a desk. Expecting his dick again you gasp when its his tongue, stroking the length of your cunt then fucking it. His fingers find your finally-recovered clit and coax another orgasm out of you. Hearing your desperate panting, he grabs your hips and shoves himself back inside.

"I know, baby, it hits all the right places huh?" he groans, "Fuck" He propped his knee on the desk you were sprawled over for better leverage, getting deeper than you thought anyone could. You feel a bite behind your ear and hear him pant through another sting of profanities. He's definitely getting close- his hips start to go crazy thrusting into you wild wild abandon. "oh fuck, jean please, please cum right there!" you beg as he rams into you over and over.

His pace slows as his words start to regain a hint of whine. "yeah?" he says "you gonna let me fill you up, y/n? i fucked you good enough that you'll let me do that?"

"y-yes, ill let you, Jean, you can fill me, you e-earned it" His dick was taking such soft strokes in and out of your sensitive pussy, and you feel him flex inside you again. "ah, fuck, jean-" you couldn't even finish your exclamation as two fingers suddenly found their way into your mouth while you felt your cunt get filled.

"you like getting two holes full? hmm? maybe next time ill fill all three for you" He slides out of your stretched hole and pulls you back to sit on his lap. Looking up at him, feeling his cum leak out of you, you can't believe you ever denied yourself this. But, you were glad that you made the man who was giving you a stupid, pussy drunk smirk beg for it.

[silverflame2724]

WWX decides to kill two birds with one stone and with the help of WQ reforges the Stygian Tiger Seal into a artificial golden core replacement which she implants into WWX.

WWXs eyes are now permanently red and he has the full power of the seal at his fingertips at all times because its part of him now.

Another side effect of this Stygian Core is discovered when WWX misses JZXs ambush and is instead attacked and disembowled in Carp Tower in full view of the cultivation world but then immediately regenerates without a scratch and blood ruined robes.

Watching WWX be more annoyed at the bloody robes than being disembowled because the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation has apparently cultivated to immortality USING RESENTMENT shakes a lot of people.

“Huh.” Wen Qing says as she observes yet another failure of Wei Wuxian’s inventions quite literally blow up in his face. “So this Seal of yours protects you?”

Wei Wuxian coughs from the smoke of his busted invention, “Well, yeah. What about it?”

“It’s sentient, correct?”

“Yeah....?”

“Hmm.” Wen Qing observed the Seal slowly bobbing up and down. “Can you circulate resentful energy through the Seal for a moment? Don’t make it do anything. Just channel resentful energy through it like you would if you channeled spiritual energy normally.”

“Okayyy??” Wei Wuxian was perplexed but nevertheless obeyed and watched as Wen Qing’s eyes brightened. “What? What is it? Wen Qing, tell meeeeee! Don’t leave me out!!!!!”

“Brat, I’m trying to concentrate.” She scolded him, but her tone was fond.

Wei Wuxian waited a few more moments before it seemed like Wen Qing had seen enough.

“I want you to calm down when I say this, but I think you can reforge the Seal into a core which I can transfer into you.”

Wei Wuxian was silent......for about two seconds. “............What?”

Wen Qing sighed. “Wei Wuxian, when you channeled resentful energy through the Seal, the Seal acted much like how it would if someone were to channel spiritual energy through their core. The Seal can be made into an artificial core is what I’m saying.”

“I.....you are sure?” Wei Wuxian asked. He knew Wen Qing wouldn’t joke about this.

“Yes. I’m about eighty percent sure this will go well. I can even knock you out when I cut you open this time.”

“I.....okay.” Wei Wuxian was at a loss for words.

“So I’ve rendered you speechless.” Wen Qing smiled. “That kinda feels good.”

Wei Wuxian pouted.

...........

It took a few days to reform the Seal into a form that would resemble a core but Wei Wuxian was a genius and having Wen Qing there to bounce ideas off of helped in giving him a clue as to how a core should look and feel like.

“Are you ready?” Wen Qing asked.

Wei Wuxian, who was one hundred percent not ready, said, “Yes.”

Wen Qing saw through this. “It will be alright.” She squeezed his hand. “This time, it will be alright.”

That was the last thing he heard before he was knocked out.

.

.

.

When he awoke, his eyes had burned for a little before the pain dissipated.

Wen Qing had been in the midst of declaring the operation successful when she suddenly paused, “Huh.”

“What is it?” He asked nervously. Did something go wrong?

“Oh.....it’s, hmm. A’ Ning, get me some water, will you?”

Wen Ning returned not long later and locked eyes with Wei Wuxian. He seemed quite startled and that made Wei Wuxian even more curious. Based on Wen Qing’s reaction, it wasn’t anything bad, but still.....

“Wei Wuxian.”

“Yes?”

“Look at your reflection and you’ll understand why A’ Ning and I looked startled.”

Wei Wuxian did.

And he was shocked to see that his eyes have now become a brilliant shade of red. “What the hell?”

“Mmhm.” 

“Why are my eyes red???”

“Well, Wei Wuxian, I’m not sure if anyone’s told you, but you’re aware your eyes turn red everytime you use demonic cultivation, right?”

“Umm, no??”

“Well, they do. And considering what your core is, well. I’m not entirely surprised this happened. It was certainly unexpected though.” She finished cleaning up and left Wei Wuxian to just sit and admire his reflection.

...................

A week and some carefully supervised experiments later, Wei Wuxian had full control over his core. It was really just the same thing as how one would normally use a golden core, so it didn’t take long for him to get the hang of it. However, considering his core is the Seal, he also had the ability to control thousands of corpses and this time without any of the side effects.

He also spent time trying to get Suibian to respond to him using resentful energy. Considering that the sword was a spiritual sword, he was unsure of the compatibility but Suibian seemed to adapt well enough and Wei Wuxian was so glad he didn’t have to give up ever using his beloved sword again.

The next step on his agenda was to update the wards. Using the power of the Seal to strengthen it was a walk in the park and Wei Wuxian finally felt like despite how the cultivation world was always on the verge of killing him and the Wens, they’d be safe. The wards would hold out.

He then started absorbing all the deep-seated resentment in the soil to make it more fertile as well as trying to clear the Burial Mounds resentment by listening to the stories of the dead and helping them pass on. He also painstakingly dug up all the strewn about corpses, burned them and held proper funeral rites for them.

The crops flourished, the Wens and him were well-fed, and the Burial Mounds started to lighten up. Wei Wuxian no longer looked to be on the verge of death and he was able to cultivate without any problem.

Like this, time passed peacefully.

..........................

He was invited to his nephew’s one month celebration not long later and Wei Wuxian decided that this would be a good time to show the cultivation world that he truly is the grandmaster of demonic cultivation they all claim him to be. (In truth, he never considered himself to be any sort of grandmaster considering how little he knew of demonic cultivation, but it was different now.)

He told Wen Ning and the other corpses - of the resentful spirits that stayed behind saying they wanted to help him - to watch for any Jins since he trusted they’d take this chance to attack the Burial Mounds.

After he put on a concealing talisman for his eyes - since he knew that his different eye color would make a huge uproar -, he took to the skies with Suibian and nearly teared up. He’d missed flying. He’d missed this feeling. Laughing happily, he circulated the resentful energy in his core and sped up, becoming a black blur as he flew straight over Qiongqi Path.

When he landed at the foot of Koi Tower, invitation in hand, the Jin guards seemed surprised to see him there but had to let him in, not wanting to offend him. 

Jiang Yanli-- no, it was Jin Yanli saw him and waved excitedly, beckoning him over. Out of his sight, Jin Guangyao and Jin Guangshan seemed surprised to see him there.

“A’ Xian!”

“Shijie!” The form of address slipped out.

Her face softened. “You made it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

The whispers of the people around him, wondering why he was there, surrounded him, but he ignored it. “Shijie, here’s my present!”

She looked at the bell with a little bit of wonder. “What does it do?”

“It’ll ensure that high level resentful beings and below won’t be able to move!”

“Oh, A’ Xian! This is perfect.”

“Thank you.” Jin Zixuan said, awkwardly. Wei Wuxian had forgotten he was there.

“No need! If it’s for Shijie’s son, I’d do anything!”

“He’s my son, too.”

Wei Wuxian made a face at that. “Well, yeah.”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng called and then stopped. “You have your sword?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, “Yep!” He twirled around. “I started picking Suibian up again! But let’s not focus on that, Jiang Cheng!”

Jiang Cheng seemed hesitant but dropped it readily enough as they started bickering like they used to.

Suddenly--

“Wei Wuxian!” Someone yelled.

Wei Wuxian groaned. Can one day go on without someone yelling my name with hatred??? Like, please??

“Yeeeeeees?” He drawled tiredly.

And some Jin guy that vaguely looked like Jin Zixuan stomped in, looking murderous. “You, remove the curse that you put on me!!”

Murmurs started up all around them.

“Curse?” Wei Wuxian looked confused. “What curse? And who are you anyway? Am I supposed to know you from somewhere??” 

“You know who I am!!”

“No, I don’t actually.” Wei Wuxian scratched his head as he walked forward to get a better look. He really didn’t know!

“That’s Jin Zixun.” His shijie said, coming up to him. “From the Phoenix Mountain hunt?” Before Wei Wuxian could say anything, she continued. “The one that was supposed to apologize to you.”

“Hmm?” Wei Wuxian thought really hard. “Oh! I remember you now!” He said to a rather red-faced Jin Zixun. “Sorry about that buddy, but uhh I didn’t curse you! I didn’t even remember you until now!”

“It must be you! It has to be you!!” He screamed and it was really grating on his nerves. “See! Look at this!” He ripped his robes open and everyone gasped at the evidence of the Hundred Holes curse on his torso. 

Wei Wuxian whistled. “Well, that’s quite some curse. But I still didn’t do it.” Jin Zixun looked ready to refute so he continued, “Why would I curse you secretly when I usually make a big production of those I kill?”

People had to admit he had a point.

Jin Zixun continued to scream expletives until he finally rushed forward and in a rather bold move, drew his sword, plunging forward. However, in his anger, he completely missed his target and the direction of the blade pointed towards Jin Yanli.

“A’ Jie!!” Jiang Cheng screamed

Wei Wuxian was the closest to her and pushed her back, stepping in front of her taking the sword to his gut.

“A’ XIAN!!!” “WEI WUXIAN!!” “WEI YING!!” Jin Yanli, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji, who was actually there, all screamed.

And Wei Wuxian who had just been disemboweled, grit his teeth and pulled out the sword. Which, in hindsight, was a horrible decision since blood got everywhere. Though not so much when his stomach stitched itself back together. “................Huh.” I knew I regenerated quickly considering how often I got hurt plowing the fields and digging up the corpses to put them to rest, but damn that was quick. Though..... “My robes!” He fake-cried, turning his attention to a stunned Jin Zixun. “You ruined my robes! I just managed to scrounge up enough money to buy this new pair and you ruined them!!!!” He fretted over the large rip over his abdomen. “What am I going to tell Wen Qing? She just told me not to stain them!”

The entire cultivation just stared at him in silent shock, making Wei Wuxian feel a little self-conscious. 

“Uhh, what are all of you staring at me for?”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said with all the patience of an exasperated brother. “Is that the only thing you can ask?!” He glared, signaling for two Jiang disciples to restrain Jin Zixun from anymore stupid ideas he’d like to enact. “When did you cultivate to immortality?”

“I didn’t??? What do you mean??”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan said, checking him over. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm? I’m a little dizzy considering all the blood I’ve lost, but it’s nothing big!” He grinned. It felt nice to have Lan Zhan care for him rather than fight with him.

“Wei Wuxian, stop flirting with Hanguang-Jun and answer the damn question.”

Wei Wuxian turned his attention back to his brother and pouted at him, missing Lan Wangji’s red ears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“A’ Xian.” Shijie said and Wei Wuxian abruptly realized her robes had his blood on them. 

“Shijie, I’m sorry I got your robes dirty!”

“It’s fine.” She patted him. “But A’ Xian, I know you didn’t pay attention to those lectures, but only immortals can heal from wounds like that that quickly.”

“Really?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan confirmed.

“Huh. So I’m immortal?”

“Yes.” Jiang Cheng deadpanned. “And you didn’t even notice it. In true Wei Wuxian fashion.”

Lan Zhan frowned then. He had still been checking Wei Wuxian’s pulse. “Wei Ying, what happened to your core?”

“Hmm? .........Oh shit.”

“Why is it covered in resentment?”

“Oh. Umm.” Wei Wuxian really was at a loss for words now. “We can discuss that later?”

“Wei Ying.”

“Aiya, how do you make my name sound like reprimand?”

“Don’t try to deflect the conversation.” Jiang Cheng said, now paying attention.

Wei Wuxian groaned. “Okay. Well, everyone would have found out sooner or later but umm. I might have cultivated to immortality accidentally via demonic cultivation? Haha, ha......”

No one laughed with him. They all looked pretty shaken and Wei Wuxian wanted to laugh at their reaction. He felt pretty detached from it all, to be honest.

“Can we all just forget about this and continue celebrating Jin Ling’s one month celebration?”

And everyone collectively said, “No.”

“Aww.”

___________________

To this day, I’m still unsure of whether it’s Carp Tower or Koi Tower.

[widow-maximov]

You just need to feel it

Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, fluff, angst

Summary: Being hidden away from the Avengers definitely brings curiosity when you are accidently discovered by one of them.

Word count: 5.6k

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Being one of the most rich people in the world daughter, definitely has its own benefits along with flaws, one of them being that when people heard your surname they instantly think you are the most spoiled kid on earth, when in reality you practically don't even know your parents.

People think you overexaggerate, like how can you not know your parents? But it's the truth, at a young age you have been practically given up to Tony Stark, he is intelligent and has his weakness when it comes to sponsoring his businesses to which your parents agreed to with one condition.

That Tony takes you as they never had time in the world to babysit you, so Tony became the father figure you always lacked. He taught you many things along with his passion of building, with each lesson you become better which is why you are currently working for Tony.

You practically have the same knowledge as him so when he is busy or needs another person's perspective he asks you to help and you do it with gratefulness.

When your parents noticed that you are starting to become a potential, they asked Tony to keep you discreet but would regularly check up on you, not that they would even try to interact with you but you didn't really care.

You were fine with Tony being the only father figure, soon when Pepper came into Tony's life, she was like the mother you always dreamed off, she always supported you and loved spending time with you when Tony was busy with his meetings.

Since you were stuck in the same place at all the times, you wanted to explore but you were forbidden from doing so, you knew no one could find out about you or Tony could get into big trouble with your parents.

You heard of the Avengers and their work, but you and Tony were behind the inventions so they could succeed against enemies three times their size.

It would've been one of those days where Tony would disappear from the team and spend some of his time with you, catching up or helping you with studying.

You was sat at your desk, the room was connected to the lab where you and Tony would come up with creations, the lab had a window that was tinted so only the person inside could see outside of it which was useful, as you could watch people walk past and no one would know you are even there.

The room of course was filled with things that could never bore you but it did bore you. You couldn't leave anywhere because if there was a picture leaked, your parents would be furious, so you were basically locked like Rapunzel but you couldn't escape.

"How are you, kid?" Tony asked as he walked inside the room, taking a double look in the hall to make sure no one saw him.

You nodded as you looked at him "Like any person who is locked inside a room their whole life"

He laughed a little as he made his way towards you "I'm sure it is very entertaining"

"Yeah, I'm so entertained as you can see" You pointed towards your books.

He sat on the desk as he leaned over to see what you were studying "Biology? What's so fascinating about that?"

You rolled your eyes, you would think someone like Tony would be somewhat interested in facts about science "It's interesting, like the human body has 12 systems. Don't tell me this isn't impressive?"

He smiled at you "You need another hobby, kiddo"

You playfully rolled your eyes "And you need to let me explore this building"

His smile fell a little, he knew that this is inhumane to keep you in a room locked and no one could find out about you "Under different circumstances, that would be possible"

You stood up from the chair as you kept your gaze on him "I know, it's okay though, as long as you keep hanging around I'm sure I will be fine"

He nodded slightly with a sad smile "If it only was up to me, you would be able to just walk freely"

"I don't understand, why don't they just let you adopt me, they barely even talk to me, you have been more of a parent to me than they ever were"

He looked at you, he always cared about you, even if you weren't his daughter by blood, he always considered you as one along with Pepper "I wonder that as well.."

The silence started to settle but he cleared his throat, throwing one of his famous smiles and pulling you into him with his hand over your shoulder as he walked towards the lab "I started to come up with this prototype and then I noticed something and I wanted to ask you about it"

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

The time with him went by so quickly, he didn't even notice that he was gone for so long, he gave you a hug which was something that was so foreign to you until he took you, you still wasn't used to it especially since you barely received them but you grew fond of them.

The team started to get suspicious of Tony's disappearances, at first they thought he was sneaking off to see Pepper but that went out of the window when she walked into the Avengers tower and asked about him, indicating that she had no clue where he was.

They wanted to find out what he has been doing all that time, they checked every room they could possibly think off, but it came back short. They even asked Friday but that programmed thing always gave the same answer 'It's confidential' which only just fuelled the team.

Correction; Most of the team, by most that was Sam, Bucky, Thor and Natasha and the rest didn't really care until the four never came up with any explanation to why Tony had to disappear.

Steve only took interest when Sam really insisted and came up with some theory that Tony has a second woman on the side with a whole family, obviously there was no evidence to support that.

"I still think Wanda should look into his head" Thor came back with some sort of drink in his hand as he reclaimed his seat.

There was a slight laugh "There is no way I'm doing that, I respect that man too much, you guys are on your own"

All of them looked towards Wanda who heard Thor and they just sighed knowing that she won't do it, no matter how much they would beg.

"Natasha is a spy, can't she like follow Tony one day and just see where he always wonders off to?" Wanda asked as she sat down next to Steve who was scribbling something down on his notepad.

Sam and Bucky looked at each other with a slight smirk as they both looked at Natasha, who already knew that there would be no way out of this "Natashaaaaa..." Sam dragged her name out in an attempt to get to her " The witch is right, just follow him, you are like a super sneaky spy."

Natasha rolled her eyes as Thor spoke up again after taking a sip of his drink "That could save us a lot of time"

Natasha looked at Wanda who had a small smirk across her lips "You welcome" The witch mouthed which caused a glare to be thrown her way from the Russian.

She eventually agreed, especially when they would follow her everywhere, annoying her until she would crack. The famous black widow for once didn't threaten her team mates since she was as curious as them.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

She has been following Tony all day, sneaking around, hanging from the ceiling and just watching his every move, she was close to giving up but that's when she noticed a door appear from the wall, from the outside it looked like any wall but that's where you would be with Tony all the time.

Tony looked around and walked inside and then the door disappeared. Natasha, feeling of satisfaction washed over her, had a smirk across her lips, finally that's where he has been hiding all this time.

She expected, some embarrassing place where Tony stored away his secrets that she could tease him about, so when he walked out again couple minutes after, she took the opportunity and snuck inside the room.

She was slightly disappointed when she just found a lab but her eyes caught a movement from the opened door, across from where she was, she quietly made her way there as she looked around. It was just a bedroom with a lot of fun stuff.

She observed you as you was sat on your bed with a book in hand so she decided to speak up "Now who can you be, gorgeous?"

Natasha never failed to notice how attractive you were, the way your hair would be pushed behind the both of your ears, in her eyes you looked young but old enough.

You jumped up from the unfamiliar voice, eyes fixated at the redhead in front, you knew this was bad, she shouldn't be here and now that she has seen you, this will only be a big problem.

Just like you jinxed Tony walked in and his eyes widen at the sight of the redhead "Romanoff what the hell are you doing here?"

She eagerly span on her hill as she faced him with a smirk "So that's where you have been hiding out"

"How did you even get in?" He narrowed his eyes as he looked at you, you looked clueless as well.

"The door closes too slow, I just walked in. But who is that?" Natasha simply explained but her attention changed towards you with a smile.

He stood in front of her as he covered you "That's not your business, you shouldn't even be here-"

Natasha walked around, making her way towards you as she extended her hand towards you "I'm Natasha but you can call me Nat, sweetheart"

Her attempt at flirting with you only irritated Tony "Romanoff, I swear if you don't take a step back from her, you'll regret it" He tried to stick to his threat but Natasha knew him too well.

You looked at Tony "Dad, does that mean am I in trouble?"

Natasha's eyes widen as she repeated what you said "Dad?!"

Tony rolled his eyes and looked at you with a small smile "Of course not" His eyes darted back to Natasha "But she will be"

You would be lying if you didn't think that some of the Avengers were pretty good looking, you never was in a relationship for obvious reasons but there would be times you would imagine yourself in one, not that you knew much about them but the films and books seem to give you some sort of an idea.

Natasha mumbled as her eyes narrowed "Maybe Sam was right about you having a secret family"

"Secret family? Have you guys been creating some sort of theories about me? What the hell are you guys doing?" He sounded more than irritated.

"Does Pepper know about you having a secret daughter?" She asked with her arms crossed.

Natasha might have been viewed at scary and unlovable for not more than her body but that doesn't mean she didn't have her own view on some subjects, she just never voiced them.

"She knows-" He paused as he huffed from irritation "I don't have to explain myself to you"

You watched as your eyes darted from one to another as they spoke so you decided to interrupt them "I'm trying to read..."

Natasha's gaze fell on you, she had a small smirk playing across her lips "You know that bed looks more than comfortable-"

"Out!" Tony shouted over Natasha as he pointed towards the exit, she finally given in and with a smirk she walked out and Tony followed but not before he sent you an apologetic look.

They both made it to a private room, out of hearing from anyone. Tony leaned on the door as Natasha stood not far from him, he sighed with a defeated look "Can you keep this to yourself? I will pay you or something"

The redhead with a hint of genuine emotion "You don't have to pay me, I will keep this to myself you don't have to worry but"

He dread that 'but', he knew there was a catch, Natasha continued "Who is that?"

He pushed himself off the door and sat on the table as he looked at Natasha "It's not my place to say, but her parents decided to give her to me and here she is, no one can know so just make up a lie or something"

He seems upset in a way and just like that walked out of the room and went back to you, Natasha's eyes followed him as she felt a little guilty for invading his privacy.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Everyone from the team apart from Tony were waiting for Natasha to return with some hopeful news. She wasn't expecting literally everyone to be tuned in.

She was taken back as she made it into the living room, they were waiting with excitement written all over their faces "So?" one of them spoke up.

The redhead crossed her arms as she raised her eyebrows perfectly "You guys just sat here and waited for me to come back?"

They shrugged and just said 'yes' which just made Natasha shake her head at their nosiness "Well I found nothing, he was busy with his meetings all day." She paused as they all groaned "Maybe there literally is nothing"

Wanda tilted her head at Natasha, she knew she had an advantage over the team, especially if they tried to lie, so when Natasha excused herself the witch took the opportunity to follow her.

"Wait up, Natasha" Wanda spoke from behind her as she caught up to her.

She turned to face Wanda as she raised her brows at her "What's up?"

Wanda looked around and with a swift motion, pushed them both into a room that wasn't familiar, from the sudden move it caused Natasha to slightly gasp from shock as this wasn't what she expected.

"What the hell Wanda!"

Wanda looked with an innocent smile "Sorry, I just wanted to be out of range of everyone"

"Why?" Natasha simply asked, not sure to why Wanda suddenly wants to talk.

"What did you find out?" The witch didn't beat around the bush, she came out with it straight away.

"I'm not sure what you are referring to?" The Russian tried to play dumb.

Wanda rolled her eyes "You might be able to fool them but remember I can still read your mind"

Natasha sighed as she crossed her arms and leaned on a little table that was behind her "Not much, there is hidden room where he keeps some girl who claims to be his daughter, the thing is that is definitely not his daughter. You can't say anything, he asked me not to and I'm only telling you because I don't want you to go inside my head"

Wanda liked the fact that she was somewhat feared by the Widow, she powerful but she would never try to hurt her team mates; scrap that, her family so she just nodded.

"We have a new addition!" Wanda clapped her in excitement "If you need help or anything, I'm here"

Natasha smiled at the witch and nodded and thanked the witch, they both went back to what they were doing; Natasha coming up with a way to find out more about you and Wanda went back to pity the boys.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

It was one of those days for the team, where there would be no missions as Stark had a lot of business stuff to take care off with his company. He needed someone to keep an eye out for you, he would've asked Pepper but she was busy for that day so the only person that popped in his head was Natasha.

He walked into the area where everyone had their own get together to just relax after a chaotic week, he spotted the redhead sipping on beer "Looks like everyone is getting comfortable today"

They looked at Tony who was in a suit rather than something more comfortable "Shame you can't spend it with us" Steve spoke first, he was the only one who wasn't exactly drunk but he wasn't sober either.

Tony shook his head as he smiled "Well, nothing I can do unfortunately. Which reminds me, Romanoff I have a mission for you actually"

The team groaned at his words, Natasha was really liked as she would be able to drink so much and not get drunk, she would barely even reach the drunk state, so having her attend a mission made the team a little moody.

She nodded as she finished off her beer and stood up to follow Tony, she remembered not having any missions, she always double checks so she is never behind anything.

"What mission?" Those were the only words that left the Russian.

Tony sighed, knowing that this is the only way out "I need you to keep an eye out on that room"

The redhead crossed her arms as she listened to him "What do you want me do?"

He handed her a card "I want you to be causation, in case something happens and I'm not here. Do not go in there and disturb her, she has some stuff to do"

Natasha nodded as she looked down at the card "This is to open the door?"

He nodded and smiled at Natasha as he reached for her shoulder and squeezed it "Good luck"

Natasha watched Tony disappear and sighed, she never was the one to break rules but she really wanted to hang out with you, there was something about you that pulled her in and there wasn't a waking second that she wouldn't want to spend with you.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

The Russian did as she was told, she kept an eye out for the room and observed it in a distance to make sure that everything was okay, it was quite boring, but she had her phone to occupy her time, she received some messages from Steve and Sam, showing her what she was 'missing'.

She was going to reply until she heard footsteps, she peaked and saw you with a hood up, waiting for the elevator to come, she smirked as she leaned on the door frame "Where do you think you're going, gorgeous?"

You didn't jump this time, you looked over at her and rolled your eyes as you whispered "Are you stalking me or something?"

The Russian crossed her arms, she knew what to do "Wouldn't you like to know!"

You raised your brows at her shouting, it would attract attention of people close by, meaning you would be spotted, so you marched your way towards her as you walked inside where she was camping out to hide.

"Can't you be quiet?" The way you spoke to her as if you knew her would straight away be a death wish for you but somehow you wasn't scared of her.

She looked out to see if anyone was coming and closed the door behind, trapping you inside with her "I could've been if you were nicer"

You sighed defeatedly as you looked down "Right, I'm sorry.." by the time you were done speaking, you looked up at her as she was analysing you.

"Where were you going to go?" She asked with no hesitation in her tone, she was a little different to the people you met, she wanted to find out why you did what you did rather than punish you straight away.

"I wanted to just leave that room, I never have the chance to do that and I thought today was my chance but" You paused as you eyed her "Clearly not"

The redhead felt hot as you eyed her but she hid it well "Okay, come with me"

You raised your brows at her but smiled as you put your hood up and you followed her like a puppy, you didn't know the place and if the worlds most deadly assassin was going to take you around, you knew it would be best to stick with her.

The two of you made it to the roof top, you never went anywhere your whole life, always stuck in that room or met your parents in some plain white meeting room to discuss what would be best for you.

As you stood near the door, you looked around to see the city and how beautiful it was, it was the first time you saw anything that pretty, usually you would only stare at one view from your room and that eventually got boring.

The Russian chuckled at you and made her way towards the edge of the building, placing herself on the floor, you did join her but sat a little further away from the edge.

You looked down and saw multiple cars go by but from far they looked like toys, the way you observed everything melted Natasha's heart, she never witnessed anyone being so happy whilst looking down a huge tall building.

Natasha shook her head a little with a small smile which caught your attention "What you smiling at?"

She looked at you with the same smile "I never seen someone be so happy whilst looking down to potential death" She teased a little.

You looked away from her and bluntly responded "If you were locked inside a room for your whole life, things like this would amuse you as well"

There was a pause in between, the Russian tried to come up with something to say without wanting to invade your privacy "How did you not go insane?"

You laid down on your back as you stared at the stars above "Hope"

You replied with one word which only interested Natasha even more "Hope for what?"

"For this.." You pointed up at the sky and she understood. You hoped one day you'll be able to just walk around.

She took a deep breath as she laid next to you and looked at your side profile "Why are you not allowed to leave that room?"

You looked at her, meeting her eyes trying to embed into your memory the way her eyes looked at you "Because that's my life"

"Surely Tony wouldn't be this cruel to not let you leave his side" She spoke trying to crack you a little bit more.

You chuckled "No, Tony is the best father figure you could ask for. It's just that my parents have a tight hold over him and if I mess that up, they will literally lock in inside a prison or something"

Natasha's eyes never left your face, it was like she was in some trance "So Tony isn't your biological dad?" The redhead asked, she knew that he wasn't but she wanted to know more from you.

You shook your head from side to side "I wish, he has been more of a parent to me than my own ever were"

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to" Natasha stated softly, making sure you didn't think she was forcing you.

You gave her a smile "I know, but you seem like you want to know unlike everyone else"

She frown at your answer "What do you mean? People don't listen to you?"

You shook your head "Nope, no one cares either"

"I do" It was the most quietest 'I do' you ever heard.

"You are the only one"

She was quiet as she was processing your words, so you continued "My parent's never actually cared about me, but I don't really care, what I care is that they locked me and don't allow me to do whatever I want"

"You talk about your parents as if they are really powerful, who are they?" She asked curiously, not to be nosy but to know more about you.

You looked away, scared about the judgement from her "My name is Y/n Y/l/n"

She looked at you with disbelief "So you're the spoiled kid of the Y/l/n family?" She asked with a surprised tone.

You knew this would happen, the news never shut up about you and your weird disappearance so you nodded and she sat up from the disbelief "That's bullshit, you don't seem to be spoiled"

You raised your eyebrows at her "Am I not? Have you not seen my room?"

She rolled her eyes "Well do you expect to be locked in a room with just a bed and couple books? I think that's a reasonable room for someone who has been forced to stay in it"

You sat up as you listen to her defend you as if she knew you, so you simply smiled "Thank you"

She looked at you as her emotions were quick to cool down "For what?"

"For taking me here and listening to me, I never had friends before, to be fair I never met anyone near my age" You nervously played with your fingers as you admitted it to her.

She smiled as she stood up and extended her hand towards you so she can help you stand up "Well we aren't done.. that's if you still want to hang with me"

You took her hand as she pulled you up "Please, anything to not spend another minute in that room"

She smiled as the both of you slowly started to walk towards the exit of the roof "If you want, there is a small get together with the Avengers, we can tag along with them"

You looked at her side profile this time, if you didn't have to reply to her, you would most likely be speechless by her beauty "Do you think they will know who I am?"

She waved her hand dismissively "Don't worry, I will put them back in their place if they say anything rude"

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

And that's how it started, you both attended the get together, you met wonderful people and for the first time in your life you tried alcohol. The team was more than happy to have you in their circle and shortly they learnt who you were, it wasn't possible to hide anything from them plus you were on the news practically all the time but they never judged you but more opposite, they loved you.

Thor even called you Lady Y/n and you really liked it, they treated you like any other person and you could've been more grateful for that, Natasha walked you to your room and stayed until you fell asleep, she stayed to ensure that you would actually fall asleep but also to watch as you slowly relaxed every muscle in your body.

From that moment, she only started to fall for you even more, the more you opened up the more she was in awe at how brave you had become but it was the moment when you stood up to your parents in front of her that she realised she really likes you.

It was one of those days where she sneaked inside your room and you loved it, the two of you would spend time watching movies that she loved and movies that you loved, or watch movies the both of you hated and just made comments on it.

You gotten comfortable around Natasha and she respected you like you respected her, you wasn't sure whether what you felt was friendly or romantic, your heart would always skip a beat when her arm would brush against yours or when she laughed so hard at something you said and she gripped your arm or hand it just made you miss her touch after.

"I don't understand why they even go towards that stupid sound, I would turn around and just walk off" You commented as you were irritated at the scene on the TV.

The Russian chuckled slightly "That's because you are a wuss, of course you would run away"

You rolled your eyes at her as you looked over "Please, as if you wouldn't. Just because you are THE Black Widow, it doesn't make you less of a human"

She looked over at you curiously "So you're saying everyone would be scared?"

You nodded confidently "Oh for sure, if someone just barged inside here, you would jump for sure"

And that's what happened, someone DID barge in but it was someone you didn't expect, the way you gripped onto Natasha's body as if she would somehow make it disappear and the way Natasha held onto you as if she could make that disappear was more adorable.

"Y/n Y/l/n! What do you think you're doing!" The voice spoke that was familiar yet at the time not really.

You felt a blush across your cheeks as you realised you were still holding into Natasha, you let her go and looked at her, she had a slight blush as well but she quickly looked away from you to mask the blush.

You stood up from your bed and walked over to where the voice was, it was your mother, she stood there with her arms crossed and that's when Natasha came out from behind you, she crossed her arms as she narrowed her eyes at the woman.

Your mother held the phone out as it displayed your newly social media "I don't see what's wrong Mother"

She huffed "You are unimageable disrespectful!"

Natasha raised her eyebrows at her, she understood what you meant now but you continued "No, I'm being respectful, it's you who barged into this room throwing a fit over a picture"

"You are doing this on purpose, you are trying to ruin our imagine! You must delete that now, this is unacceptable" She looked at the phone and at the picture, it was you with the team, the next picture was with Natasha as she leaned on your shoulder and made a cute little kissy pose.

You shook your head "No" it was all you said which caught Natasha off guard but she felt proud, so there was a smug smile across her lips as she observed the woman in front of her.

"Unbelievable" She paused as the redhead finally caught her eye so she pointed towards her "You are the one who corrupted my daughter"

Natasha's smile was gone as those words left her mouth so she decided to speak up "If she was your daughter you would treat her better"

You looked over at Natasha, the way her gaze was on your mother so firmly, make your stomach do flips "She never corrupted me, she was always here for me" She looked down at you with a smile that met her eyes, you looked at your mother "Unlike you or Father"

Her mouth dropped opened at your words, she never expected you to ever talk to her like that, so you continued "I'm old enough to decide for myself, so I'm no longer your daughter but Tony's, he adopted me and I will happily call him my dad and Pepper my mom, they deserve those names so if you don't like it, leave the same way you came in"

She was boiling inside as Natasha chuckled at her expression, she huffed and walked out not saying anything back, you let out a breath that you didn't even know you was holding and turned to face Natasha, a squeak came out of your mouth as you jumped into Natasha's arms.

She held you so tightly but you quickly pulled away realising what you did, you were still in her arms but just facing her "Oh god! This is bad, she will take revenge"

Natasha's voice always seemed to calm you "Hey, hey. She won't do that, Tony won't let that happen and frankly I won't either"

You always seem to be oblivious to Natasha's feelings towards you, she wasn't very open with them which is what caused your obliviousness. The both of you were scared of rejection but something with the way Natasha comforted you and held you tight against her, making you look down at her lips.

She caught on and with every courage that was left in her body, she leaned closer, before her lips reached yours you looked into her eyes "Thank you Talia"

She smiled as she kissed you, she finally did what she always wanted to do, she felt as if there was fireworks going off, the way butterflies would grow just at the touch of your lips, she loved it and she was intoxicated.

You were the first to pull away, resting your forehead against hers "I like it when you call me that"

A grin broke out on your face "Talia, Talia, Talia-"

She kissed you again, this time with hunger as she backed you into a wall, you tangled your hands into her hair as you matched her pace in the kiss.

Even if it wasn't long since you knew each other, the want and the need was stronger than self control for Natasha, especially when you did things like this.

"You really don't want to walk tomorrow" The way her voice was low and her eyes would fill with lust just at you teasing.

"I'm not sure I understand what that means"

Natasha smirked as her lips made their way towards your ear "You don't have to.."

"You just need to feel it" her lips latched onto your skin within seconds, causing a moan to escape your lips.

[anna1306]

Nesting

Poly!Lost Boys x Newly Turned!Reader

It was strange. And it is putting it lightly. You were on edge since the turning, and that was understandable. You were human one moment and the other second you wanted blood. You were on the ground one minute and couldn't get down from the air the next minute. The boys helped you to the best of their abilities. They guided you to self-control, helped you keeping in check your feelings. They tried their best.

But still you couldn't put a finger on what you didn't like... You slept with the boys for the most part, trying to get the hang of sleeping upside down. But they still got you a room. There was a bed, there was some shelves, it had some comfort (even if in a strange way), but something was off. You understood that it was good room. You liked it visually, but...

But you still preferred to sleep with the boys, at their rooms, even on the couch. Your things still were thrown everywhere, on the couch, some in guys' places, some at yours room and you didn't like it. And still you couldn't bring yourself to get everything in one place. Your room was empty for you, not very... Appealing. You had to use it, but something stopped you from doing this.

- Don't you like it? - Paul looked up at you, pouting and hugging you tightly, laying on top of you, both of you sprawled all over the couch. You sighed, hugging him back. - We can change it if you want to. We all have our own places here, you need one too, babe. Did we do bad? What's wrong?

- It's okay, Paul, - you smiled weakly, letting him lay on you. - Just... I want to be around you more, not alone, - you finally found a reason. For Paul it was enough to turn his attention to giving you tons of kisses instead of worrying.

- You are paler, - for Dwayne it wasn't enough. He took your hand in his, while you were walking around at a Boardwalk, wondering where you should head next. You shrugged.

- Haven't had a lot of sleep lately... - you smiled a little. Dwayne squeezed your hand, watching over you very closely.

- You sure? You slept with us before, why this night?..

- I don't know, - you interrupted him. - Have no idea, maybe it's because I am new to all of this? - you sighed, feeling his attempt at calming you down and get to the roots of the problem. But you weren't ready to tell them that you didn't like what they did for you. - I'll be fine, - you assured him. He nodded, though a little bit hesitantly. He believed you would go to them if anything was going on.

- Look what I got! - Marko caught you in the entrance to the cave. He pointed to the poster of your favourite band. - How about we hang this in your room, huh? - he grinned, and you felt bad for the amount of anger that rose this offer inside of you. - Or not... - shit, he probably felt it. You bit your lip, trying to calm up with an excuse. Having a mental connection with your mates really had its downs.

- No, it's... It's fine, I'm just... A little tired and there was a lot on the Boardwalk, so...

- Do I need to deal with someone? -he wiggled his eyebrows, making you giggle. - Or we can make ourselves romantic meal with someone, how about that? - he tried to change the theme, and you were grateful for that, even if you still felt his worry. But at least he didn't press it.

- I think I am capable of protecting myself, but thanks for the offer, - you smiled, kissing him to distract from this theme.

They were oblivious or made it seem like it. You didn't want to worry them, yet constantly did exactly this. You wanted to understand what problem do you have with the room they gave you, what didn't let you live in peace? You were inseparable with the ones you loved, with ones you were supposed to spend the eternity with, everything in you longed for them. But yet something was wrong.

You were tired beyond anything because of constant thoughts of something not being right, of something being off. Even cuddles didn't help. Nor did hunt. You were on the edge.

That night you woke up earlier than the boys. You were sleeping on the couch, not wishing to disturb them with your shenanigans any more than you already did. Laying there for couple more minutes, you stood up, making your way to the unfortunate room. You were supposed to live in here. You were supposed to love this place. But everything about it made you go crazy.

The more you looked at it, the more you hated it. The conflict in your head between your love and gratefulness towards boys and hate and wish to do something around here made your mind hurt. You were grateful to guys for giving you your own personal space, but at the same time you hated it. It had been this way for a month now. And you were finally done.

You walked to the shelves you put some of your things in, hoping in vain that that would motivate you to love this room. You put your hand on it and... Crushed the wood, throwing it away. You hated it here so much you didn't even felt the weight of it. You kicked the stone wall, making some dent in it, but you kicked and kicked again, until there was some space. You almost broke the bed, but stopped in time only throwing the blanket and pillow away. The vase flew to the wall as well, and your things to the entrance.

- Kitten? - you shivered, turning to the boys who obviously woke up from all of this noise. Marko whistled from all of the mess and snickered. - What's with yellow eyes and all of that? - you felt the wash of guilt again, closing your eyes. Because they let you stay here and you just thrashed the whole room. You whimpered and looked around, trying to calm down.

- I'm so sorry. I don't know what has gotten into me, I... I'll fix everything and...

- Stop it, - David said sternly, making you silence yourself. You know this tone of his, and he was very serious. Yet, his eyes told you more about his worries. He walked up to you, picking the splinters from the shelves from your shoulder. - I know what you feel.

- No, you don't! I didn't mean it that way. I am forever grateful that you let me have my own personal space, but... I just can't, there is something wrong here, I don't know what, but it is. I know this is extremely ungrateful, but I tried so hard to like it and...

- When Dwayne got his room here, he broke down several stones there, almost ruining the wall, - David interrupted you. You stopped, looking at him dumbfounded and turned to look at Dwayne, who just shrugged. - We needed to tell you from the beginning, but I thought you would ask.

- Ask about what? - you looked back at David questionably. You thought you knew everything about vampires, the shit they hid from you again?!

- It is nesting. All of our places is made by us. Some was smaller, some had different things. You are remaking place like you see it fit, - he calmly explained. - It's... Like an instinct. You aren't ungrateful, you just... Building your own nest, as your instincts tell you to do, what would be better for you.

- That's why you were so pale. You couldn't understand your own wishes and were in conflict, - Dwayne added. - And you couldn't sleep with us, as we all sometimes need a break. We are one coven, we are lovers. But we need one or other day alone. In our personal place, - he went to you and kissed you on the forehead. - We should have guessed sooner, sorry.

- And I. Am. Not! - suddenly exclaimed Paul. - I was so worried that I did something wrong. That I chose wrong room, that I brought something bad, that I messed up and was a bad mate, and you couldn't just say what was on your mind?! - he looked at you almost angry, but you didn't sense it in him truly. Irritated, maybe, but not angry. Still, you shrugged sheepishly.

- Sorry... I didn't know what to do and why I am like this. Why didn't you tell me?! - it wasn't all your fault, they all went through it, they could have said something, guessed and... They gave you personal space. Now. When you needed the help. When you needed the space, they would never do that.

- Because we are forgetful. Or dumb, choose whatever you like, - giggled Marko, coming to you closer. - And we thought that we were bad mates and didn't see what you were going through and what we did. Sorry.

- We are gonna leave you to it, - David kissed you on the cheek. - You are gonna kick us out anyway to do anything by yourself. But if you need anything - just call.

- Yeah, we are gonna get you anything. Blankets, pillows, fabrics, rocks, any shit, - Marko nodded. Paul still pouted, but "mhm" in agreement.

In the morning, when you settled down in your new room that you did especially for yourself, with tons of pillows, blankets, your things onto some of the shelves, but in different place, the prizes you all won at the Boardwalk, and guys came in to say "good day", you finally felt at peace with yourself.

The Lost Boys Taglist: @minafromasgard @starmullet @iloveslasher

[mrspillow]

Sorry (Jellal Fernandes x Reader)

"Hmm... strawberry cake..."

Suppressing a small laugh you turned your head to Erza, your best friend of childhood days that never seemed to miss the opportunity of shoving cake into her mouth.

You had seen the amounts of baked goods the redhead could swallow within minutes, not even speaking of hours, but when it came to strawberry cakes, it turned ridiculous.

"I do not know how you aren't fat already, Erza", you mused and put your chin onto your palm, still watching that food orgy of hers "But I guess that's okay, Ichiya likes your body just the way you are."

Even though she was wearing armor, you could see the shivers running down her spine and her face growing blue as she choked on that cake.

"Stop that", she didn't like being teased with a matter as serious as Ichiya, not even by you "You know exactly he gives me the chills every time."

You shrugged and turned back to the field inside of the Domus Flau arena in Krokus, watching the pair of wizards fight it out. Although you were no part of a guild, you were busy cheering on for Fairy Tail whenever they entered the field.

Yeah, sure, there were shouts of boos and the mocking of the other guilds but with Erza alone, they couldn't be any worse than the best.

You just knew it.

Even when the both of you were just kids and surely no force to reckon with, she wasn't just a surprisingly powerful mage but also kind and caring for those in her family. She was everything that made you change minds back then and you couldn't have been more grateful. It was only then that you realized just what exactly it was that you were doing and you felt so dirty the moment it became clear as day.

You snapped out of your stupor before it became obvious you were lightyears away and focused on the matches ahead of you.

Snatching the list from Gray's hands (who was too absorbed into fighting off Juvia - as always) to take a glimpse at the letters, you let out a sigh of defeat.

"Can I have a piece too?"

Just as you felt your eyes sliding shut, Natsu bumped into you, nearly making you fall over the handrails but at least, you were awake now.

"Is it finally over?" you leaned back and let out a yawn "Thank God!"

After all, you weren't that much into stuff like tournaments, Fairy Tail was basically the only reason for you to come into this cave of pent-up masses.

Nobody answered you, either tired as well or already on their way through the door and out of the arena, back to their sweet sweet home. You got up quickly and grabbed Erza (still next to you but with a very empty plate - you could only guess Mira had sacrificed her even more cakes) to get out.

It was just then that you noticed how far the sun has gone westwards making you suppress another yawn that made its way up. You got to go to bed soon enough anyway so no need to rush.

The way back out was surprisingly swift and without running into any hostile guilds (lucky you). So you were out before Natsu broke something or bumped into somebody.

"Let's go grab something to eat, (Y/N)? You coming?", you heard Gray's voice from behind you, making you turn around and give him a bright smile - only to decline.

"I'd love to, really, but there is that thing I need to get done yet. Don't worry, I'll be back soon, just start without me.", your voice was sweet enough that you nearly even betrayed yourself, if it hadn't been for that tiny tiny voice in your head.

Why don't you just tell them?

But you brushed it off without a second thought, no need to worry your friends about your self-made worries and troubles.

"Okay...", Erza didn't seem as convinced as you would've liked "You sure?"

A simple nod was enough to soothe her and so, you made your way back into town, taking a stroll through the streets devoid of people or friends. You were alone with your thoughts and the memories that came with them.

You sighed making eye contact with the horizon to take in the way the sun was drowning beneath these parts of bustling streets and places.

You hadn't missed the silence that came with the night for you had heard it over and over again in those sleepless nights.

It shamed you to this day that you hadn't noticed the way he was using you, cocooning you in soft and sweet words to make your finger bleed from hard work and your skin shining from the sweat and tears spilled for him. The worst part of it all was that damned silent voice within you, asking again and again if what you were doing was right.

How could you build weapons of mass destruction meant for thousands with a straight face?

How dared you think sacrificing people to a black wizard could be a way to achieve paradise?

How did you fail to notice that you would never be able to sleep after you were so willing to make these sacrifices more for him than for Zeref after all?

Who knew.

Did I know?

You wondered for years if maybe, just maybe, you had known what you were doing. You probably weren't even able to throw the cloak of ignorance over your shoulders to save yourself from the cold feeling of guilt.

Shame, shame on you.

You hated the way he made you feel so far away from everything like he had built a place away from the wars and the screams of the world, simply made for the two of you.

And again, you failed to notice how it was only the mist caught in between your fingers.

"(Y/N)?"

At first, you thought it was only the back of your mind, playing tricks on you by reviving past days and voices. But after some seconds, you had noticed the silhouette nearby and wondered if you had heard his voice.

Maybe you were going crazy.

At first, you noticed the dark blue hair, sticking out to spite the cloak it was put under, then that tattoo you would notice everywhere.

Jellal Fernandes.

Surprisingly enough, your panicking mind took it upon itself to react, stumping you with the bright - borderline hysterical - laugh that came out of your mouth.

You just couldn't help it. The way he appeared after decades with nothing to say but your name just about the moment you had wallowed in self-hate and guilt was just ridiculous.

Jellal stood quiet, not even his face gave away whatever irritated look he might have had, giving your laugh an untimely end. And that was just about what you needed to come back to your right set of mind.

"What are you doing here?" You didn't bother the biting hate in your voice or the way his shoulders slumped from your tone.

"I came because Erza told me you would be here.", he started when he had straightened again "She said it wouldn't be a good idea but I came because I wanted to speak to you."

You didn't trust the way this man looked so sad. You couldn't.

Not even enough to sit next to him when he scuffled over to the next bench and gestured for you to take a seat.

Not ever, not in a thousand years would you take that seat.

So you stood like a tree, unmoving and unwavering in your place, staring at him and ready to defend yourself by any means.

Would he try anything funny?

From the way, you knew him back then? Definitely.

Surprisingly though, he didn't try to press you into sitting down, instead starting to talk about whatever it was that lead him back to you.

"It took me a very long time to properly realize what had happened in the Tower of Heaven" he started "I did things in there that I never remembered to have said or done, horrible things. And when I remembered, it was like watching through the glass as someone else moved my body."

For the blink of an eye, his hand hovered over his head before he opted to pull down his hood and revealed the dark blue hair. Jellal sighed before he put his face in his hands for a few moments as if he was trying to get ahold of his last pieces of sanity.

"And when I understood what I had done, I felt so, so guilty. I tried to sacrifice hundreds - no, thousands of people, I manipulated you, Milliana, and the others to work for my cause. The worst of it all was the way I led you to believe in the lies I told you over and over again. I remember that look of adoration in your eyes and I misused it for these terrifying things."

The way he spoke of these sins the two of you committed so easily made you relive the shame of it over and over again. It was like your mind couldn't stop.

"I need to atone for these sins, for the things I did to you, and I wanted to start by telling you how sorry I am for the way I treated you and led you into believing these tales.

I do not ask for you to forgive me or to see beyond that, I came here to apologize because that is what you deserve."

For the first time since he started talking, he looked into your eyes as if waiting for your response and your mind came to an abrupt halt.

What exactly was it what you were feeling?

Hate?

Sadness?

Anger?

...No.

For the first time in forever, you could sympathize with him - that person who you had thought of as a monster for much longer than you wanted to admit. He had been taken advantage of and used to do whatever malicious things asked of him. He did not have a choice.

What did he feel like when he discovered how many people had been suffering under him? Was it sorrow? Betrayal? Shock? Or even anger?

And only when you were ready to answer was it that you too were looking into these dark eyes.

"I remember every damn word you spoke whenever you looked at me so fondly and I remember how you laughed at me for even believing in your farce. " you didn't try to cover up the bitterness sneaking in when you recalled your heart break into pieces just like that.

"And now that you are sitting in front of me, asking for forgiveness, I don't even feel the hate anymore." it had stilled to numbness in your heart, always there, but only with that hollow feeling, never leaving.

"I cannot forget", you further explained feeling unshed tears prick in your eyes "My memories have become a part of me and they will never leave again. A Sorry won't fix everything."

By then, two or three tears escaped over your face before you could wipe them away, not escaping Jellals gaze.

He turned to look at the ground for a few seconds, then he moved off the bench and cast a sad smile at you, only to walk away from you as if that was his clue to disappear back into the night.

Only when you understood where he going, you set into motion, reaching out for his hand.

"But..."

The blue-haired male revolved when he felt your hand in his, soft as in those memories he still held close. His eyes became wide at the side of your tearing and red eyes, paired with that tiny, hopeful smile directed at him.

"But... I won't give up on you."

His mouth carved up to mirror your smile as he squeezed your hand just like sunlight kissing your skin.

[nobutfredweasleytho]

YOU JUST DON’T LISTEN(F.W)

Summary: Fred’s ex girlfriend writes him a letter to explain the how him using her wrecked her emotionally.

Warnings: angst, like a lot of angst, depressed Y/N, mentions of self doubt, a little swearing, mentions of parents not loving correctly, used reader. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Major thank you to Gabriella @onlyfreds for being an amazing person and encouraging me to write whatever this mess is. I am forever grateful to you

(The font is terrible Im sorry im just getting used to working on tumblr)

Fred Weasley checked the muggle clock on his nightstand. 10:30 AM. His mom will call him for breakfast anytime now. He has been awake for quite some time if he can even count the 30 minutes he tried to sleep but couldn’t, not when every time he tries to close his eyes his mind and eventually dreams are clouded by her. By the last time he looked at her, how devastated she looked, How her face was wet from her tears and her eyes bloodshot red, but the thing Fred will never be able to forget is her voice. How raw and vulnerable she sounded while saying the most horrible thing’s anyone has ever said to him, but he can’t blame her, he has no one to blame but himself because in the end it was he who caused all of this and now its come to bite him in the ass. He hears the door open and his twin brother George enters.

“Mom says breakfast is ready and she wants you downstairs. She says she’ll drag you herself if you don’t show up again today.”

“Tell her I’m not hungry and I’ll come grab a bite later.” I really don’t feel like being surrounded by other people right now. Not in this pathetic state I’m in. Besides it will take me willpower I don’t have to not hex Ron into oblivion.

“Well she will not take no for an answer and I wont either. What’s done is done now and you’ll have to face the world someday so start with your own family because everyone down there is worried sick about you and the least you can do is show your face once in a while so they know you haven’t died of starvation or sleep deprivation.” George has worry written all over him and I’m sure the rest of the family has it too. I feel even more like shit for worrying them.

“Fine. But I come back here if she is mentioned are we clear?”

“We weren’t gonna mention Y/N anyway now lets go moms worried sick for your dumbass.”

Breakfast was going smoothly with Ginny and Ron being exited for Quidditch season, Harry and Bill discussing the unfortunate events of the Triwizard tournament last year, dad asking Hermione about a rubber duck whatever that is, but the most shocking thing is mom asking me and George about the joke shop products. George is doing most of the talking but still the fact that shes even asking is awesome. I was finally feeling peaceful this whole winter break until I heard a hoot outside the window.

“I thought it was Tuesday but since mail is here does it mean its Friday already? Oh how fast time is going.

“No Arthur honey you are right it is Tuesday, Bill or George can one of you see if that owl has the owners name attached to it and bring whatever letter he has here to see who is it for.”

Bill got up from his seat and went to the window next to the countertop to look at the mystery owl. “Do we even know a Y/N Y/L/N?”

The room went quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the owls hoot asking for its treat. Bill seemed not to realise this as he took the letter from the owl, gave him a treat and sent it on its way.

“To Fred Weasley from Y/N Y/L/N… Who’s Y/N is she the girl you’ve been crying over this whole time huh Freddie?” Bill chuckled but I just grabbed the letter. I had no time to even be mad at him because once again my mind fogs up with only her. I couldn’t help but feel relieved and the happiest I felt in a long time. She has forgiven me. Y/N forgave me. That has to be it. Why else would she send me a letter?

“I had a great time with you guys but there’s important matters for me to attend so I have to go to now. Thanks mom the breakfast was amazing as always.” And with that I sprinted towards my room, locked the door and examined the letter in my hands. It was a bunch of them in here. I went to mine and George’s worktable threw some papers that were on top of it to make room for these letters and carefully opened the envelope.

The first thing that I grabbed was a photo. It was a polaroid of me and Y/N on the Gryffindor common room. Happiness filled my heart when I started remembering this night. I looked at the back of the polaroid and surely enough there was a writing on it.

Fred and Yn on the Gryffindor common room at 1 AM the night she turned 17. Listening to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”. Picture taken by major 3rd wheel George Weasley.

Tears filled my eyes when I remember this night. It was the night I looked at her the way I always should have. Not as a replacement of someone who didn’t care about me.

The next one was also a polaroid photograph but this one I don’t remember being taken. It’s a picture of Y/N teaching me how to play the guitar. I can make up that we are in her dorm but not more as the picture is taken in black and white. I look at the back and surely this one also has a writing on it but the handwriting doesn’t look familiar at all.

A drunken Y/N accompanied by a even drunker Fred trying to play the guitar in the middle of the night. If I fail my charms exam tomorrow I’m killing you both but right now you two look adorable. Picture taken by Cho Chang.

The third one is an actual letter. I chuckle looking at the handwriting. Always so precise and not even one line out of place. I always thought Y/Ns handwriting always contradicts her hot headed persona but it’s actually really cute. I start reading the letter and my heart stops.

Dear Freddie,

I can only imagine the shock that receiving a letter from me would cause you right now especially after our last conversation.

But I have a lot to get off of my chest and I wont be able to move on if I haven’t said it all. Call me a coward but I was really scared to ask you to meet me so I can say it in person, but maybe that’s what I have always been. A coward. A coward because I get scared when someone wants to enter my life, a coward because I hate trying new things at the expense of failing, a coward because I should be able to confront people who brought darkness and sadness to my life.

But one thing I will admit Fred Weasley is that I wasn’t a coward when It came to loving you. It was the first time that I let someone come into my life and heart the way you did, and it will probably be the last. Throughout our “relationship” if you can even call it that as it was more of you customizing me to be her, to be someone I’m not. But that’s why you even talked to me is it, because I reminded you of her.

The signs were right in front of me and I feel stupid enough not to have seen them. But I guess people are right when they say love is blind. Love is such a funny thing to me as the first time I experienced the right kind of love was through you. But that was me creating stuff in my head. You didn’t love me no, you loved the idea of me. But I loved you. I loved you more than anything or anyone I have ever loved, I loved everything about you. But you just don’t listen. You don’t listen to anyone around you. Not George, not your other siblings, not Lee or any of your other friends for that matter, not your professors, but most importantly you don’t listen to me.

You didn’t listen when I told you that the love my parents gave me was only because I reminded them of my brother, the love my old friends back home gave me was one of interest. Everywhere I go no matter who I talk to no one will love me for me. I came to accept that until I met you.

You were funny and crazy and brave and oh so gorgeous. You were basically everything I looked for in… well everything. In a friend or in a partner it doesn’t matter. I thought you saw me for who I am. A broken teenager with issues but that at the end of the day was deserving of love. Oh how wrong I have been but no more wrong than you. You knew this but you just didn’t listen.

That makes us both horrible people now does it. Me who thought you were some kind of savior or some kind of saint and selfishly wrapped myself around your love and you who used me because I remind you of your ex girlfriend who broke your heart. But mine is excused I feel like and yours isn’t.

You would have kept me going for who knows how long just so you can live your imaginations you had for someone else.

Did you think about her the first time we slept together?

Was I not enough for you Freddie?

Was I too clingy too soon?

Is it my hot temper that gets the best of me?

So many questions will be left unanswered on my end because frankly, I never want to speak of you again. Sure I am deprived of love but I will not take it if its not directed directly at me.

I still care about you and will continue to support you and George on whatever you set your mind into. I was waking through Diagon Alley last week and saw this little store with a “for sale” sign. It’s right in the middle of Diagon Alley. I hate how my first thought went that you would have loved it but I seem to do that a lot recently.

I’ll get dressed and think would Fred love this skirt or this shirt.

I start applying lipstick and I’ll think will Fred love this color.

I start eating and I’ll think does this look good enough that Fred would’ve stolen a piece of it when I’m talking to Ginny.

I don’t even know why I am telling you this. How pathetic I’ve become clinging into someone that doesn’t want me.

Anyway I’ve probably bored you enough with my ranting but I wouldn’t have been able to move on unless I said everything that felt heavy on my heart. I also attached some photos I thought you’d like to keep seeing as now you can see yourself with Kayla without having the burden to be near me.

Say hi to your siblings and Harry for me.

Have a nice life,

Y/N

[punemy-spotted]

Of Blackbirds and Barons: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You Make The Rain Fall Harder

Relationships: Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader; CEO!Billy Russo x Reader; Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader x CEO!Billy Russo

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con; Dark!Fic; Mob and Mafia Elements; Character Death (Minor and Major); Threesome; Possessive/Obsessive Characters; Blackmail/Coercion; Kidnapping; Mentions of War; Human Rights Violations; Contract Killing; Mafia AU; Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat; Complete Disregard for Actual Rules of Journalism and Style Guides; Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply

Chapter Specific Warnings: Non-con; Drugging/Date-Rape; Fingering (F-Receiving); Vaginal Sex; Unprotected Sex; Possible Breeding Kink; Kidnapping; Obsessive/Possessive Zemo; Dark!Zemo; Human Rights Violations; Discussion of Destruction of Novi Grad and Sokovia; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The problem with having sympathy for the Devil is that he will drag you down to Hell regardless.

Author’s Notes: Another series! Because I can’t get enough of Mob!AUs! Zemo makes his dark entrance. And this IS dark, so read at your own discretion. As always, all of my work is 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Masterlist

The long tradition of the Duchy of Sokovia, that which once stood the test of time against the Tsars of Russia, began to crumble long before its borders did, its sweeping architecture and decadent mystery giving way to the sharp lines of Brutalism and the characteristic industrialism of the Eastern Bloc. Still, the Sokovian people managed to maintain their identity in the face of a new kind of empire, bringing greenery and art to a brisk, concrete world.

There is no Sokovia now, not the way one would think, but there are still Sokovians scattered around the world, clinging to the traditions of their once-home and searching for a banner to be united under.

A banner carried by a man like Helmut Zemo.

The caret blinks back at you with a mocking sort of finality, a metronome counting down the seconds to your ultimate frustration. Once. Twice. Thrice — you lose count, staring at the screen until your vision crosses and the words blur together, until only his name remains.

Zemo.

Baron Helmut Zemo.

Your notes are expansive, excessive, papers strewn about you and you look at each scribbled anecdote, each carefully dictated word, each photograph you have annotated until it is more red marker than actual picture and you are… frustrated.

Where do you put all that passion? He asked you over champagne and charcuterie.

You know this man.

You know this man like you know your own soul. You know this man who has bared his soul to you in turn and how are you supposed to impress upon the world that he has shown you the broken heart beating slow and painful in his chest in just a thousand words?

There is nothing. Nothing you can do, nothing you can saywhich could even begin to encompass the horrors which he has experienced and now as you painstakingly tap out word after word describing the grand beauty of his apartment, you wonder if this really was what your life was meant to be.

These are… fluff.

This is a man who has managed to unite an entire fractured country under his royal banner and yet the project wants to know about the indoor garden of his apartment, wants to photograph him in fine suits and know his haircare routine and this can’t be it. This can’t be the face of the man you see everywhere now, moreso since you picked up the assignment, purple-masked and surrounded by brass wings, over the homes of Sokovians all over New York.

And not just there.

I am a man, he told you with his hand on your thigh, But I can become an idea. And an idea is immortal.

You let your eyes skim over the photographs you took, a collection of banners and graffiti and billboards all proclaiming the need for the Sokovian people to come together and heal. To show that their small country — broken and divided in the wake of an attack by a rich megalomaniac’s private military — could not be taken down simply because its borders had been erased and its capitol turned to rubble.

We live in an age of information, and through information we are boundless.

It should terrify you.

It does terrify you.

But inside of that terror is a sick fascination with the man, isn’t there? That’s the trouble with you investigative types — peel back the layers enough and you find yourself capable of feeling sympathy for anyone.

He flaunts his power, and yet it’s innocent. Is it so wrong, then, to want to bring my country back to its glory?

No, you remember answering shakily, but not as well as you remember the pinpricks of heat his fingers left on your skin when that gloved hand brushed over you arm.

Breathe deep, hover fingers over your keyboard and try not to feel like you owe him the weight of the world. He approved of this, even suggested a word count and a topic of conversation — any chance to put his name out into the consciousness of the public, it seemed, to raise interest for the gallery by raising interest for the cause. Make it indulgent. My people, they enjoy art. They enjoy knowing that their leaders have preserved the past for them.

So do it.

… Baron Zemo’s New York penthouse is its own garden amongst a sea of steel and stone, a veritable museum of priceless artworks rescued from what remained of Sokovian museums and ministry buildings. It is, in its own way, an ode to the spirit of Sokovia, which lives on in the hearts and minds of its people around the world. He displays artworks of the many displaced Sokovians, gesturing broadly to a 3D model of an art gallery he intends to have built near the memorial at Novi Grad — with the consent of the Slovakian government — and speaking fondly of his intention to showcase the lost art of Sokovia as a reminder that loss of land cannot be the loss of an identity…

The artworks, they will be painful at first. But the gallery will showcase more and more, and eventually we will have hope.

He waves a gloved hand over the pieces he has preserved. Sokovian history. Scenic expanses, fields and flowers, a city skyline dotted with domed cathedrals. Each painting marred some way too, you can see when you look close. Patched canvas, the dusting of ash and rubble in the corner of an ornate frame, a trick of the light revealing repainting to cover up damage.

A stone hoof sits on a bookshelf, The attached horse and rider blown to rubble in the attack. I’m told it was of Emperor Ferdinand, but my archivists have not been able to confirm, he tells you as he stands behind you, his hand resting soft on the small of your back.

Come. There is more to be seen.

More to be experienced.

His living room is a garden.

It smells like fresh jasmine the moment you walk in, ivy climbing the walls and you swear you can hear birdsong from more than the pigeons cooing outside. Flower arrangement is an often looked down upon art, but the gardens in Sokovia were impeccable. My father won several awards for his pieces before his…

He trails off and you watch him, seeing the pain paint his face as openly as if he meant for you to watch the facade crack and then back to that placid, pleasant calm, a serpentine smile on his face as he extends to you a hand and guides you to the open air of his balcony and bids you Sitbids you Enjoy bids you I have looked forward to his meeting.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Baron Zemo, you begin politely, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and trying to avoid the way his eyes follow your fingers, feeling seen, We’re grateful for the honor of your patronage for this piece, we know you could have —

Nonsense, he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, gesturing to his butler and then leaning back comfortably in his seat as champagne and various cheeses are brought forth, You are my guest, and I am grateful you agreed to come meet me here, to assist with my… project. Now. Please, enjoy, I do not want to treat this as strictly business.

Is that why he had you come alone?

Don’t.

Don’t dwell on it.

It happens all the time, right? It has to.

A somewhat reclusive man, not keen to be in the limelight, in need of public attention to achieve his goals — you are a means to an end and he is your means to an end, surely you can understand.

Is that why he wipes the honey from your lips and kisses it off his fingers?

This is going to be a difficult conversation and you know it. You can only gush over houseplants and rose décor for so long before it becomes… trite, before you’re a part of the problem, painting a shining veneer over a half-decade old injustice

But he is warm, warm and friendly and you cannot help but laugh to his response when you draw attention to the architecture to draw attention from your blush — Very modern, yes. We are in New York, after all, and the old ways are fine for country houses but not so fine, for sunny penthouse apartments —not noticing the way he looks like he’s just smelled blood at the sound of it, the narrowing of his eyes and the hiding of his inscrutable expression behind a sip of champagne.

Well then. Shall we get started?

Of course.

Why don’t we start with your plans for opening night?Your notepad is out, the recorder sitting in front of you to pick up the sound of your voice and his, ready to commit everything to memory.

Of course. We cannot deny the… elephant in the room, I think you Americans call it. There are many who took pictures of the aftermath of the attack, and not enough who have seen it immortalized…

… The tragedy of Novi Grad and the consequential absorption of Sokovia into its surrounding countries weighs heavy in the Baron’s living room, draped in ivy and jasmine and hanging vines but also in photographs of what was left after a private military corporation chose to turn human lives into a war game.

No one knows who Ultron is, only that he is dangerous, that his technology rivals that of the SHIELD Syndicate’s Tony Stark, that he is willing to ally himself to the highest bidder, and that he is fully capable of unleashing endless destruction upon the world…

You will never forget the photographs he shows you, all that death and destruction in the golden light of his balcony, all that warmth and all you can see is cold bodies bathed in concrete dust.

They call to you, when you close your eyes — answer for our crimes — and you remember the way his voice changes too, so soft and solemn, the brush of fingers against yours when you touch the bombed out shell of a country mansion My home, in Sokovia, to the gray-and-blood horror which forms the centerpiece of his display, and you remember your research too, that the Baron is a widow, that his title is inherited from the most tragic of circumstances, that his son was an innocent lost in the attack and you are furious too, at the senselessness of it all.

It is a tragedy yet unanswered for, more than half a decade since the dust settled.

That quote sits front and center on your mock-up, wondering if you could make whatever editor who would inevitably rip this piece to shreds — just before publishing its corpse alongside some glamour picture of the Baron his coat — finally see the error of ignoring the tragedy. You won’t, but it’s worth a shot, as you lean back in your chair and stare at the screen again.

Sometimes you think about it.

Watching Novi Grad happen from the comfort and safety of your living room, wrapped in blankets as open war broke out in the capital city of what had once been a crown jewel in an ancient dynasty. A playground, a show of force.

Sometimes you hear the screams.

The blinking carat waits for you to add more to this story, to decide where you want to go.

… The Baron plays a game with his interview, insists on knowing his guests just as we insist on getting to know the enigmatic leader who has risen up a beacon for the displaced people of his homeland. We will not be recreating our answers in this article, as they were of course of a personal nature, but we do thank the Baron for taking the time to get to know us just as he bared his soul, his sorrows, and his hopes to a gaggle of strangers seeking to make him known to the world…

Tell me of you, sweetling.

Me? This interview is about you.

And so I must tell all my secrets for free? No, I insist. A secret for a secret.

He watches you with a hunger, coal-black eyes an invitation. Slide your gaze away or fall and who knows what depths he will drag you into and what you will find there?

No.

Don’t look, don’t look as you sip the tea Oeznik brought when you politely declined the champagne — Another time, probably — and let it brace you with its bitterness, let it clear your head.

Breathe.

You’re in too deep now, trapped in this cave of wonders… and wouldn’t it be worth it? Know him as he knows you, follow the trajectory of the smiling man before you.

What would you like to know?

Tell me how you taste his eyes whisper.

Tell me what it would take says the curve of his fingers over your hand.

Let me put you on display hums the razor-blade of his smile.

Tell me what drives a woman to take on such a … dangerous line of work, is the final inquiry, innocent and curious and gentle and you sip your tea and smile.

Is it dangerous?

You must know how many secrets you uncover — and the lengths the keepers will go to in order to hide them.

If people get hurt, shouldn’t I bring that to light?

How noble of you, he tells you with another hum, with his fingers squeezing yours, with his eyes fixed on the gaze you refuse to send his way, It must be quite thrilling.

Let me thrill you too, sweetling.

Pull away.

Do it.

Pull your hand away, make an act of it, pick up a candied strawberry and press it past your lips, let the sweetness soak your tongue and wash away the bitter thoughts, let yourself be bright and chipper and pretend you are not afraid.

Because you’re not.

Of course you’re not.

You are in control here, you must be in control here.

This is nothing. This is a casual interview with a handsome man in his handsome penthouse, an interview about architecture and art galleries and you were a correspondent once and you are meant to be friendly here, not afraid, so what are you afraid of?

What is it about his coal-dark eyes and too-sharp smile that turns your blood, that sends you back into your hutch, little rabbit, what is it about the way he prowls at the corner of your thoughts that makes you shudder so?

What are you running from?

Who are you running from?

Your turn, sweetling.

Mmh?

Our deal, or have you forgotten already?

Yes. You have.

It’s his eyes, you keep insisting to yourself. They drag you in, so dark it feels like you’re drowning in the void of them, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s a chase.

It’s what you’re good at.

Right — I’m sorry, I’m…

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The fog in your thoughts doesn’t fade, confusion crossing over your features and ill delight crossing over his. All you had was tea, tea and some of the candied fruit his butler brought for your enjoyment, how can you feel so…

Hazy?

So…

Upturned?

Something clatters behind you and you realize it’s the chair you were sitting on as you stand, unsteady and abrupt, lost in the moors of your own frantic thoughts and there is his hand on your elbow, so careful and soft and there are his lips before yours, so…

Tempting.

Somewhere, a woman croons to you of falling rain and rushing blood and the room does spin round as you stand still in the open air of a desire that is yours and not your own all at once. Shhh, shhh, let me help you whispered in your ear, a hand to your cheek and you…

You blink.

Reality flows into view like a sudden bath of ice water. Jerk away from his iron grip, raise your hands and try to resist, shake your head and N-no, I think. I think I need to go, I’ll just call a cab —

I cannot let you do that, sweetling. Not when you are finally within my reach.

His hold is steady. Unbreakable, even, as he pulls you close and you might even be dancing with the way his arm wraps around your waist the moment you fall into his chest, Don’t look so afraid, sweetling. No one will hurt you, here.

I will protect you like a jewel.

Your mind is still yours — the dose was just enough — but your limbs? Your limbs are tied to his strings, lost as he guides you right back inside, lost as he gestures for Oeznik to close off the balcony.

Your place is somewhere else now.

You belong underneath me.

He guides you inside, jasmine intoxicating your senses and wisps of smoke seeming to float past your eyes. Reality blends into the fantasy, the Baron and his prize, the gentle touch against your soft cheek, the cradling against his form and he is…

Determined.

A door opens. A portal into another kind of decadence, with soft sheets and softer touches, the sliding of a mouth over yours as your escape clicks shut behind you and you are pressed between wall and man and you are consumed.

Curl your fingers into the lapel of his coat, lose yourself to the pressure of his lips, the sharp nip of teeth against soft flesh. He tastes of champagne and honeycomb and you are saccharine on the tongue, a mess of sighs and admonitions left unsaid.

My precious thing, whispered into your unfocused sighs, I will take such fine care of you.

And you want to protest, want to insist you are free you are uninterested you do not want this man and his hands under the cotton of your blouse but the words tangle on your tongue and instead all you can do is whimper.

Whimper, and hear him chuckle against your skin, a line of kisses drawn from your parted lips along your jaw until he’s found the thrum of your pulsebeat to draw a gasp the moment his teeth scrape against the delicate skin. He must mark you his, after all, and this he will gladly renew, over and over.

Over and over as he draws you to bed, lays you amongst soft cushions and softer sheets, indulges in the soft curves of you in the golden glow of the room. Your clothes — so conservative, so professional, so unnecessary — he makes short work of even with what mild resistance you manage, Shh, shh, do not fight me.

The heat is yours and not yours all at once, warming your skin and leaving you flushed, leaving a trail of burning want along your skin where his fingers trace over you and centering in your core You need this, sweetling, look at you…

Do you?

Is it you who needs this or he, he who has begun to kiss along your skin, he who presses himself between your legs so impatiently? The accusation lives in your thoughts and passes past your lips as a strangled Nnh-no, ignored without ceremony or appeal.

Protests are useless when your tongue can form no words and your limbs can do nothing but writhe, seeking structure in the grip of his sheets as he unravels you with a press of his lips to that soft center of yours, slick with a need you cannot own and yet all yours.

He maps you with a hungry gaze, fingers already tracing the plushness of your folds, gathering slick like he might have been collecting nectar and you watch him pull back, watch him bring his hand to his mouth, watch him wrap lips around his fingertip and drag the taste of you onto his tongue, One day I shall make you taste how sweet you are…

One day, after he has savored you so deeply.

You are so full of words they burst out of you on a normal day and yet nothing you say comes to light, just the bare whimpers and anxious mewls of your needy self as he returns to inspecting, to enjoying, to savoring the reactiveness of your body.

He touches. He touches as if he has owned your body a thousand times, he touches as if you are delicate, as if you are breakable, as if his fingers might lead you to shattering around him here and now and you…

Are so close, already.

So close, trying to find the strength in your muscles to pull away, to speak something beyond desperation with every curl of fingers against your cunt, with every pleased hum he utters in response to the flex of your sex. Shh… no more fighting, sweetling, I know you can be good.

He knows you can be good, he says, with all the innocence of a man trying to convince his cat to stop clawing the couch, not a man presently holding your legs open with one hand at your thigh and the other curling against your walls while you arch your back. It builds, the pressure, it builds and builds and builds and — Let go, sweetling. Let me see your ecstasy.

Is that what this is?

You keen. You keen softly, desperately, brokenly, as skilled fingers find the spot which makes you, which leaves you breathless and flushed and sobbing, a trickle of tears making their path down your cheeks as you bite your own lip to muffle the sounds you did not know you could make. Wordless and pleading and he notices with a cold smile the way you seem to succumb, hips no longer desperate to escape the curling, stretching assault of two — no, three — fingers preparing you for him.

Hips pressing back towards him now, a betrayal of your conscious-yet-barely-focused mind, that lustful sweetness in you taking over and he can only watch in awe. Awe not at your surrender but at your perfection, muttering in a language you do not understand and yet you understand perfectly what he means — he will have you, all of you.

Ah, I shall so enjoy playing with you more, sweetling.

But not now.

Now his impatience outpaces your need and both outpace his cruelty, his desire to see you beg and so instead he pulls back his hand — and hears the desperate N-no, please don’t — to bring a cruel gleam to his dark eyes and even barely conscious as you are you know he is beautiful.

Beautiful and cruel, as he frees himself and curls fingers around his cock, rubs your own slick onto that soft skin, hisses at the very feel of you like it must be a preview to how you will make him throb, and presses himself over you. Presses himself over you, absorbs the cry of pain or anguish or relief which pours from your plush lips with the punishment of a kiss just as he sinks, hips pressing against yours, stretching you with his full length and Now we are one, my sweet.

Now we are one.

He will take fine care of you but you, you take finer care of him, so plush and tight around his senses, so desperate as you cling, so lost and wanton and he kisses away the tears which continue to sting your cheeks and hisses half-sensible promises into your ear — You will always be mine — as he ruts his hips and practically shoves you forward with every thrust, dragging you back with a snarl and the pressure builds.

Builds and you moan, builds and you sob into his hungry mouth, builds and you hold to him as if he were the last thing which made sensein the world builds and you are consumed and he is consuming, and the release is both of yours, spilling deep inside of you and that too is the final shackle upon your soul.

You sit. In the darkness of your office and you remember, worrying the cuticle of your thumb and staring at the words you have typed while your memory drifts back to that hazy reminder.

… A discussion with the Baron about Sokovia reveals a country rich with history. Once a Duchy of the Hapsburgs during the era of the Holy Roman Empire, the deeply Catholic country clings to the Austrian and Italian tradition of ceremony and indulgence. Baron Zemo plays an example of the hymns sung in the many cathedrals which once filled the country, a mixture of Sokovian and Latin to raise the soul to divine heights.

The Baron speaks of the country’s culture with a warm fondness, of how even during Soviet occupation, the people managed to enjoy games like ice hockey, and football (the European, variant, the Baron would like to emphasize), and even spent time indulging in horse racing. Surrounded by Slovakia and the Czech Republic, it keeps a similar tradition, with a twist…

No, that cannot encompass all that you discussed, and yet that is what the recording shows, words traded back and forth which you do not remember, a conversation of laughter and warmth and none of it slots into what your mind tells you occurred.

You erase. You rewrite. It is the same passage, over and over, fingers acting unbidden of your frantic will and eventually you give in, demand to be done with these words and this screen, eventually you desire peace.

… Baron Helmut Zemo is many things. A historian, an ambassador, a politician, an activist. He is a widower, a man trapped in the past, a man with lofty dreams for the future. He wears his sorrow as well as he wears his happiness, and for those who still call themselves Sokovian, he is their shepherd into a new age.

And as the door to your office opens, your keeper.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Sixteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n:

***

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

In Cassian’s arms, Nesta is shocked for all of a second before melting into his heat, kissing him back with just as much tenderness and joy as he gives her.

Fireworks go off, illuminating the scene around them, but he doesn’t hear or see any of it. Confetti poppers are popped, sending glitter and paper flying everywhere, and still he kisses Nesta.

It’s not until the fireworks show hits its crashing climax that Nesta flinches, breaking away from his lips.

She hates loud noises, Cassian remembers. He stupidly considers covering her ears against the noise for her, but then her shoulders relax, and she comes in again for a deeper kiss. His hands tangle in her bronze hair, and when they next break apart, he remembers the words he’s been holding in for so long. “I love you,” he says against her mouth, imprinting the shape of the words onto her lips. Her answering grin is bright enough to match the moon.

For a single moment, they are a perfect couple. No secrets, no baggage, no outsiders to judge them. And then the fireworks die out and the confetti falls to the floor, and the lights seem to turn bright enough to burn the eyes. The party returns to normal, and so do they.

Nesta is clutching Cassian’s wrist, looking like she has something she needs to say, but then her gaze drifts past his shoulder. To where her sisters and his friends are. She looks up at Cassian nervously. “Can you—”

“Deal with that?” he finishes for her, referring to the friends who had surely seen everything. “Yes.” It’s his responsibility to bear in the first place. Nesta doesn’t owe anybody except her sisters an answer.

Nesta looks torn between feeling guilty and grateful. “I should be there with you.”

Cassian can’t help but be awed. Nesta, who can’t have dinner without knowing what’s on the menu at least two hours ahead, has no idea what to expect from his friends. And still she’s offering to face them with him.

He takes her hand and runs a soothing thumb down her racing pulse, then her sweaty palm. “Go back inside,” he tells her, placing a kiss on her fingers. “I’ll find you when I’m done.” He might put a little sensual promise into his words to ease the nerves lacing her body, but he doesn’t know if it helps. She nods and stalks off.

Cassian stays where he is and leans his arms against the wooden balcony railing, staring into the clear night while the rest of the guests slowly trail back into the warmth of the cabin. He and Nesta will have to clean up this whole mess of confetti and streamers tomorrow, and they’ll have to do something about the new wine stain he spotted earlier on the couch—

Feyre storms up to him first. “How long?” she demands.

He looks sidelong at her. “How long, what?”

“How long have you had feelings for my sister?” Her cheeks are flushed red, either from the cold or rage Cassian can’t tell. This isn’t the question he expected from her.

“Since the day you told me to pick her up from the middle of the woods,” he answers honestly.

Feyre turns impossibly redder. “And how long have you been together?”

“Since Thanksgiving.”

Feyre looks seconds away from attacking him. “I trusted you—”

“Darling.” Rhys has come up behind her, Mor and Elain trailing him. Azriel watches coolly from the door, likely only there to see the drama unfold.

Rhys puts a hand on Feyre’s back, and she ignores it. “I trusted you to take care of her, to live with her, because I knew you would never take advantage of her like that. Because I believed you wouldn’t do exactly what you’ve just done,” she seethes at him.

Cassian stares in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about right now?”

“I’m talking about how you’ve had a hard-on for Nesta this whole time, in close quarters with her, and never thought it was worth mentioning to me.”

“I share one kiss with my girlfriend and that’s what you jump to? That I preyed on your adult sister? You really have no other questions for me?” His voice raises with every sentence, and a few guests lingering on the ground below glance up toward the balcony.

“What else am I supposed to believe?” She’s nearly shouting at him. “You didn’t tell me anything. You lied to me, knowing that Nesta is—Nesta.”

“For good fucking reason, I’m starting to see.”

“Cassian,” Rhysand says warningly.

Cassian didn’t hear him. “What is your real problem with Nesta, Feyre? Where is the problem in me loving her and her loving me? Do you think she’s incapable of making decisions for herself, or is this another thing where you’re jealous she has a life outside of you?”

“That is not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?” he demands.

“You know!” She stabs a finger at his chest, chin quivering. “You know how she is, how she feels and sees things differently than most people, and how her history with men isn’t great. And you still thought it was okay to drag her into a relationship. Why else wouldn’t you tell anyone about it, if you didn’t feel it was wrong?”

Cassian’s face turns colder than the frozen air around them. “I don’t know who you’re talking about right now, but it isn’t your sister,” he says. “It’s not my fault if you don’t know her the way you thought you did. Take that up with her, not me.”

Feyre’s breath steams in the air before her. “I will,” she fumes. She spins on her heel to leave, but Cassian catches her by the wrist.

“After you cool down,” he demands. “You’re not ruining her night.”

Feyre stares him down for a long moment, and eventually shakes his hand off her wrist. She walks back inside, waving Rhys away when he tries to follow. Elain, who Cassian forgot was there, stares at him before going inside as well.

Rhysand turns back to Cassian with ice in his violet eyes.

“Don’t start,” Cassian says, tired. “She doesn’t need you fighting her battles for her.”

“That’s not what I was going to talk about,” he says. “You lied to us.”

Mor bundles deeper into her white coat. “You really love her?” she says quietly.

Azriel steps into their little circle beside Cassian without saying a word. Supporting Cassian in silence.

“I liked having something I didn’t have to share with everyone,” Cassian says, the admission feeling heavy on his tongue. “And I don’t regret it. It was nice while it lasted.”

“I think I’m losing my mind,” Mor mutters.

“So,” Rhys gestures at the spot where Cassian and Nesta kissed, “that’s it? You’re dating Feyre’s sister now, with nothing else to say?”

“This isn’t a damn group decision,” Cassian grits.

“That’s not what we meant,” says Mor. “But you’ve been hiding an entire girlfriend up here for months. We have questions.”

“Then I’ll hold a Q&A session later,” he says sardonically. “But since we’re on the topic of Nesta, I do have something to say.”

Mor and Rhys look taken aback.

Cassian straightens up. “You don’t have to like her. You definitely don’t have to be friends with her. But I expect all of you to respect her, even Amren. If it’s not something you would say out loud about Feyre or Elain, then it won’t be something you say about Nesta. You will be on your best behavior around her, and you will not upset or scare her away. Is that clear?”

Az snorts. “Yes, General.”

Cassian cuts a sharp look in his direction. “That applies to you, too. Don’t toy around with her.”

Az grows solemn and nods.

“Is that it?” Mor raises a brow.

“You might find it harder than you think.”

She scoffs. “Well, if I had known I was bitching about your girlfriend this entire time…”

“You wouldn’t have changed,” Azriel interjects. “You’d be even worse.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. I can play nice.”

Cassian looks to Rhys.

“I haven’t spoken a word to her in years,” Rhys grumbles.

“You will respect her, even when she’s not in the room.” He doubts Nesta will be happy to have shit talked about her when she isn’t in a sex-driven haze.

Rhys looks away. “I can’t believe you even have to ask me such a thing,” he mutters. “She’s with you now, of course I’ll lay off her.”

“And you’ll stay out of the sisters’ issues,” Cassian adds.

Rhys smiles wryly. “When did we switch jobs? You want to be boss now or something?”

“If we’re done here, can we go the fuck inside?” Mor groans. “I’m freezing. And I’m holding you to that Q&A session.” She points a finger at Cassian.

He allows himself to grin, feeling truly light for the first time in months. It isn’t a band-aid solution to everything, but it’s better than lying to his family for the rest of his life. Mor and Az head back inside, and Cassian and Rhys trail them. It’s not until Cassian reaches the door that he remembers—

“What was it you wanted to tell me earlier?” He turns to Rhys.

Rhys looks startled, then uncomfortable. “I don’t think it’s the right time for it anymore. You might not want to hear it at all.”

Well, now Cassian’s curious. “Just tell me. I want to know.”

Rhys holds in a sigh. “Fine. Let’s talk inside.”

***

It’s almost two in the morning when the last guest goes home, and Feyre has no excuse left to idle around.

She finds Nesta in the kitchen doing dishes, her back turned to Feyre. Her heels have been discarded, her hair is tied up out of her face, and her sequined dress sleeves are pushed up her arms so they don’t get wet. She looks so… at home. Like this kitchen and the rest of the cabin is undeniably hers.

It reminds Feyre that it wasn’t Cassian kissing Nesta that felt like a punch to the throat. It was when Feyre saw Nesta break away, smile brightly, and kiss him back.

Feyre carefully approaches the island and clears her throat. Nesta doesn’t hear her over the sound of running water. Feyre tries again harder, but swallows the wrong way and ends up in a coughing fit.

That gets Nesta’s attention. She spins around to find Feyre hacking like an idiot, and shuts the tap off. “What’s wrong with you?” she says.

Feyre coughs one final time, her throat scratchy now. “Water. I need water.”

Nesta’s eyes nearly roll out of her head, but she grabs a clean glass and fills it up, handing it to Feyre.

Feyre chugs half the glass and sets it down with an exhale. “I was trying to say,” she starts after an awkward moment, “that you look very settled here.”

“I am,” Nesta says without pause.

“And you’ve probably heard about my—argument with Cassian by now.” Cassian, who is no longer just Feyre’s friend, but Nesta’s boyfriend. Someone Nesta loves, if Feyre heard correctly in her fury.

“Unfortunately, wooden walls carry sound pretty far.” That’s all Nesta bothers to say before turning the sink on again, resuming her dishwashing.

Feyre used to think Nesta’s lack of words meant she had nothing to say. Now she suspects there’s a storm of words raging in Nesta’s head. Too many words to even try to string together coherently, so she stays silent instead.

“I wanted to ask for your side of the story,” Feyre says. “I didn’t even think to consider your feelings before I went off at Cassian, and I might have made—some assumptions.”

“You implied that I was too weak-minded to make decisions for myself and that Cassian took advantage of my weaknesses to get me into his bed.” Nesta’s tone is flat, her eyes on the plate she’s scrubbing.

Feyre winces when she hears it out loud. “Yes, I did that.”

“Why should I tell you anything?” Nesta says. “You clearly have no problem believing what you already believe.”

“I can’t know how you feel about things if you never tell me, Nesta,” Feyre tries to defend. “I’ve been going off my assumptions for years because you don’t share anything about yourself. If I had misconceptions about you, you never corrected them.”

“And that’s an excuse to not ask me about my feelings? To not come to me when you have concerns about my life?”

“I’m coming to you now,” Feyre says. “That’s the whole point.”

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Feyre adds, “I know that we don’t know how to communicate without offending each other. So for five minutes can we just put the defensiveness aside and talk about this?”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about.” Nesta rinses the last glass and shuts the water off, going to dry her hands on a towel.

“I’ll start then: Why didn’t you tell me about you and Cassian?”

Nesta stares at the countertop. “If I answer that question honestly, you’ll call me cruel.”

Feyre hides her flinch, and decides she doesn’t need to hear the answer. Deep down, she probably already knows it. “Alright. When did you start liking him as more than a friend?”

“October. Do you want cake?” Nesta turns toward the fridge in search of dessert.

“I’m good,” Feyre says. “How did you—fall for him?” She’s had all night to think about these questions, but it still sounds impossible saying it out loud. Like two worlds colliding in the weirdest way.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Feyre repeated for the third time that night, sequestered with Elain touching up her makeup in one of the bathrooms. “Does it make sense to you?”

“I can see it,” Elain said flatly. “Nesta’s emotional, and Cassian’s emotionally intelligent. If anyone could put in the work to understand her, it’s him.”

Elain didn’t show a hint of feeling since she watched Cassian sweep Nesta into his arms and kiss her like a hero from a romance novel. When Feyre later asked Elain if she wanted to talk to Nesta with her, she curtly refused and proceeded to leave the party early.

Now, Nesta busies herself by digging through the fridge. “He’s kind. He’s unfaltering. He’s easy to talk to. It doesn’t hurt that he’s hot.”

“Is that it?”

Nesta shuts the fridge, cake in hand. “Why don’t you ask what you really want to ask, Feyre?” She yanks a drawer open with a little too much force and grabs a fork.

This, Feyre hasn’t practiced for. But she needs to find a way to voice it. “I never knew… after Tomas, I didn’t think you would trust a man again. I didn’t trust a man with you again.”

Nesta whips her head to glare at Feyre, and Feyre shrinks away from her near-feral stare. She spoke too much. She fucked it up already.

“What do you know about Tomas?” Nesta says lowly.

“It doesn’t take a genius to know that Tomas was shit. I never liked him. I was so happy when you left him.”

“And what?” Nesta drops the cake onto the island with a thump. “You thought he broke me? You thought I’d never find love again?”

Feyre looks down, playing with her nails. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe, Nesta,” she says quietly.

“And I’m trying to tell you I don’t need your protection. I never did. You do not get to assume what I’m fit for and what I’m not. You do not get to pretend to know me when you’ve never made an effort to understand me.”

“Made an effort?” Feyre can’t believe Nesta’s words. “All I’ve ever done my whole life is make an effort—to talk to you, to be close with you.”

“No,” she says firmly. “You only ever tried to make me do things your way. You wanted me to be more like you. I always came over to your place, I always participated in your parties, I always did the things you wanted to do even when I hated it, because that was me making an effort for you.”

The words take a long time to sink in. Feyre finally swallows. “Do you always have to be so cruel?”

“I’m not being cruel. This is just me. The person you see is the person Cassian fell in love with, and he likes me just fine. You’re the one who’s never liked me.” Nesta’s chest is heaving. “Yes, I am well aware of my flaws, and yes, I’m putting in the work to get past them. That’s what therapy is for. But until you look at your own issues instead of being personally offended by mine all the time, I can’t speak to you without wanting to scream.” She’s trembling as if she’s holding in a shriek right now. “I can’t keep bearing the weight of it—of our past, of everything you want that I can’t give. You won’t let me move away from it.”

Her words ring in the silence.

Feyre’s face is cold, and she touches it to find tears on her cheeks. “I didn’t know…” She blinks, looking away. She suddenly wants to be anywhere else but here, where all she’s good for is torturing her sister. But Feyre is twenty-one years old and she’s getting too old to keep this hateful thing between her and Nesta alive. She reaches for the cake and takes off the lid. “Get me another fork,” she sniffs through tears.

Nesta stares at her for a long moment, then does what she asked. Feyre wipes her eyes.

They sit across from each other at the island and dig in without bothering to get plates. Feyre takes a bite and makes a face at the sour taste, nearly spitting it out. “What is this, lemon?”

“Yes,” Nesta says, stabbing her fork into the cake. “Lemon is for guests.”

“Implying you have different types of cake lying around?” She points to the fridge.

“Chocolate is for Cassian. You can’t have it.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Shared cake, Feyre thinks. How long until they sign up for coinsurance?

They eat in silence for a few minutes, but Feyre’s mind whirls the entire time. She has to speak first, but she doesn’t know where to start.

The beginning might be good.

“I…” she speaks hesitantly, “didn’t mean to make you feel responsible for the past. That wasn’t anybody’s fault.”

Nesta doesn’t look comforted by her words. “You think Dad wouldn’t have let us all die in our pile of bills if you hadn’t stepped up?”

True. Feyre used to drown in bitterness over it: working forty hours a week and then some just to keep the family alive, and receiving nothing in return. While Nesta escaped to the woods to read all day and Elain flirted with boys in mall parking lots, Feyre carried the brunt of reality on her shoulders. It wasn’t until their father died and she got out of that town that she realized—if it was anybody’s fault, it was his.

“I think we all did our best to survive,” Feyre says. “Especially you. But if it’s moving away from me and Elain that you want, I can’t give it to you.”

Nesta looks unsurprised. Before she can argue, Feyre states firmly, “I can do things your way. I can come to you. We can learn to meet each other halfway.”

“Then you’ll be disappointed when, even after all that work, I still find you annoying as fuck.”

Feyre actually laughs. The sentiment still stings, but… “We’ll just have to see how it goes.” But what if Nesta never does like her? The thought nags. What will she do then?

Nesta narrows her eyes at Feyre. “And what about Elain?”

Her absence in the kitchen suddenly feels pointed. Feyre twirls her fork. “We’re not as close as you think, you know. I don’t always know what she’s feeling. You might have to figure her out on your own.”

Nesta looks like she would rather die.

A knock sounds at one of the kitchen entryways. Feyre turns to see Cassian leaning against the wall, looking warily between the two sisters. “I hate to interrupt,” he says, “but can I see Nesta now?”

It still startles Feyre: he’s here for Nesta, not her. That’ll definitely take some time to get used to.

“For sure,” Feyre says, getting up from her seat. She looks back at Nesta, wondering about how much more they need to say to each other…

From the look on Nesta’s face, they’ve done enough for tonight. “I’ll be calling, then,” Feyre says.

“Can’t promise I’ll answer,” Nesta replies.

Of course. Feyre turns on her heel to leave, but stops before Cassian for a brief moment. “I’m so sorry.” The words flow a lot more easier with him than they would with Nesta. “I said some terrible things outside—please forgive me.” She’s genuinely terrified at the idea of losing Cassian over her battle with her sister.

Cassian smiles down at her, not his usual grin but something gentler, more understanding. “There’s nothing to worry about.” His eyes dart to Nesta for confirmation of this, and he must like whatever he sees, because he looks back at Feyre and ruffles her hair. “Glad you’re feeling better, kid.”

***

Once Feyre leaves and Cassian can hear her and Rhys getting ready for the limo drive back home, he finally allows himself to approach Nesta at the island. Rounding the counter to where she sits, he wraps her into a hug.

For once, Nesta doesn’t question his unsolicited affection. She leans in and wraps her own arms around his torso, resting her head against his stomach. “Where were you this whole time?” Her voice is muffled in his shirt.

“Nowhere,” he plays off easily. “Just talking to Rhys about work stuff.”

The conversation lasted much longer than Cassian would have preferred, but by the end of it Cassian’s stance was firm.

“It’s a year-long project based in Milan. It would technically be a promotion for you, and you would work on-site the whole time. I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to get out of the cabin,” Rhys said.

“By sending me out of the country?” Cassian scoffed.

“With the way you’ve been avoiding us lately—I know now that it was about Nesta, but when I heard about the position, you were the first person to come to mind. Taking time to yourself, traveling on your own, making a mark without having your entire family attached to your hip… It sounded like something you needed, so I recommended you for the job.”

Rhys was scarily accurate, because those were all things that Cassian wanted. He and Nesta made lists about places they wanted to visit all the time. But doing it like this?

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to Italy.”

Rhys looked away. “That’s what I thought you’d say. You’re still in the honeymoon phase with Nesta.”

“Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t go. A year away from home? What are you thinking?”

Rhys raised his hands in defense. “Look, you don’t have to go. I can give the position away to someone else. But you’re the most qualified and deserving person on the team and we both know it.”

Even now, Cassian knows it. Unfortunately for Rhys, that won’t get his answer to change.

He smiles down to where Nesta hides in his arms, visibly exhausted after the night she’s had. “How did your talk with Feyre go?” he has to ask.

“I thought I was being pretty generous. I didn’t even call her a hypocrite for half the things I wanted to.”

“Does that mean it went well?”

Nesta sighs against his chest. “I think we reached some sort of understanding. Though I’m not sure if that makes me a bad person, for giving her hope of a better relationship between us.”

“I think it makes you a strong person,” Cassian says honestly.

“And what if I can’t deliver?”

“You can’t find out until you try.”

Nesta looks up to meet his eyes, and for a short second he’s overwhelmed by need. “Say it again,” he breathes.

Her brows furrow. “Say what?”

“What you said in the truck. I need to hear it again.”

“Oh, that.” She looks embarrassed. “Iloveyou,” she mutters quickly.

He pokes her. “Say it like you mean it, not like you’re announcing you have syphilis.”

She glares, but clears her throat and gets serious. “Cassian. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

His heartbeat stutters at the earnestness on her face. “Since when?” His lips spread into a grin.

Her face drops. “Yeah, this is really putting a damper on my feelings right now.” Nesta starts to squirm out of his arms.

“No, wait—” He tries to stop her.

“I’ll help you clean in the morning, okay?” She yawns, heading for the exit. “Good night, babe.”

“I was kidding—” He starts to follow after her, shouting, “Where are you going?”

***

Nesta wakes late the next morning with a solid warmth pressed against her back. For a second, it disorients her. She never wakes up before Cassian.

But she turns around and there he is, dead asleep while the sun is already high in the sky.

She reaches up on instinct to brush his silken hair out of his face. He’ll be pissed he missed his six a.m. workout, New Year’s Day be damned.

Putting on her glasses from the nightstand, Nesta carefully eases out of bed and crosses the room to pull the curtains shut over the wall of windows. When she’s satisfied that the room is dark enough, she tiptoes out of it.

The downstairs is still a mess from last night. Nesta wrinkles her nose at the sight of it. Discarded champagne glasses scatter the living and dining areas, and whoever snuck in those damn confetti poppers left a mess on the hardwood floors. Platters of long since finished food lie on random surfaces.

“Even the rich and sophisticated party like pigs,” she mutters to herself, stepping over a discarded throw pillow to reach the kitchen. She needs coffee and a hose to scrub this place down—

“Good morning.”

Nesta yelps, spinning toward the figure near the sink she didn’t see while coming in. “Fucking Christ!”

Azriel doesn’t blink, holding an apple in one hand and a paring knife in the other. “We’re out of coffee.” He looks like he just rolled out of bed, sweatpants and all.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta demands. “Where did you come from?”

“Ah, about that,” he says casually. “I never left.”

“You slept here?”

“Do you have breakfast? Because there isn’t even a box of cereal in this place.”

“Azriel,” Nesta forces his name out. “Start answering my questions.”

He has the decency to look sorry and blushes. “I needed some time away from Velaris. I figured the cabin would be empty since you moved out and I brought some of my stuff over last night.”

“So when I found you upstairs…?”

“I was staking out a room to stay in.”

Nesta has so many questions she almost forgets to be upset. But it’s hard not to be upset when she’s standing in front of a near-stranger in only Cassian’s shirt. “Does Cassian know about this?”

Azriel carves out an apple slice and shrugs dismissively. “He will soon.”

Her stomach churns with familiar anxiety. “But you can’t—” She wrings the shirt she’s wearing in her hands. “You can’t do this.”

“Why not? It’s my brother’s place.” His eyes dare her to disagree. “In my defense, I didn’t think you’d be living here when I decided to move in.”

“I don’t live here,” she says. In fact, she’s supposed to return to her apartment tomorrow. “But I spend a lot of time here and I didn’t get to prepare for—” she waves her hands in Azriel’s direction, “you.” It’s a wrench thrown in the gears of Nesta’s carefully calculated life.

Azriel raises a dark brow. “Do you need to prepare for me?” He pushes an apple slice into his mouth.

“Yes!” This is a change she had no say in, and those are the worst kind of changes.

Azriel puts the apple and knife down and leans against the counter. “Prepare for me, then.”

“What?”

“Before Cassian gets up, take the time to get used to the fact that I’m going to be around for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Nesta pales.

“A month, tops,” he promises. When Nesta doesn’t look reassured, he says quietly, “Go on. Do what you need to do to get comfortable.”

“But I barely know you,” she says. Well, Nesta knows Azriel is the pretty brother and the quiet brother, but now she’s starting to think he’s also the weird brother.

That’s three things they have in common, at least.

“Uh...what do you want to know?” He tries to sound nice, inviting. Nesta uses that awkward tone all the time.

It actually brings her some semblance of comfort. She sits down carefully on a barstool and asks, “Why are you really here?”

“I’m avoiding someone,” he answers without hesitation.

“Who?”

“Nobody of interest to you.” They’re doing rapid fire mode, then.

“Do you know how to cook?” she says.

“No. Do you?”

“No.” A loss on both parts. “What are you good at?”

“Minding my business.”

Nesta narrows her eyes at him. “Like you were minding your business outside Cassian’s room last night?”

He makes the slightest wince. “That was an unfortunate incident where I toyed with you. It won’t happen again.”

She doesn’t know why, but she believes him.

“What won’t happen again?”

Nesta turns to find Cassian trudging into the kitchen, looking only half-awake. He notices Azriel. “Oh, hey bro.”

Azriel nods. “Hey.”

Cassian is about to drop a kiss onto Nesta’s head when he freezes. “Wait.” The look on his face makes Nesta forget her earlier discomfort; she laughs out loud.

Peering all the way up at him from her seat, she says, “Your brother is moving in. I am reacting to this like a well-adjusted human being.”

He raises his brows. “Are you now?”

“I didn’t freak out one bit,” she says, trying to spare Azriel from her boyfriend’s overprotective wrath. Cassian doesn’t buy it.

He looks at Azriel and tilts his head toward the living room. “You wanna talk?” He leaves before the other man can answer.

Nesta shrugs apologetically at Azriel’s stunned face. “I did my best. He’s going to give you a lecture on boundaries now.”

“No, he’s not,” Azriel grumbles as he starts following after Cassian. “He’s going to beat my ass.”

***

a/n: when in doubt, write a flashback scene in italics

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