#wait I think I knew which one was repression so I was able to avoid that at least because then Id truly be fucked

[arolesbianism]

Did all the upper layer core suppressions in my second playthrough today 👍 I still stand by that Netzach's healing bursts are maybe a bit too generous, but it did also happen to be the only one I didn't first try so who am I to talk ig 😔

[solo-ojo-jojo]

Chenford Fanfic: About Last Night

The Rookie Fanfiction | Chenford | One shot | 5K | Rated T | 5x01 Alternate Take | Sharing a Bed | Repressed feelings | Chenford Week '23

Story summary: Chenford, Vegas, and the one bed trope

In a world where their undercover op isn't interrupted, Lucy and Tim must find a way to share a bed one night in Las Vegas.

One day last November, my friend @heatherelf77 shared the following tweet, and it got my brain a'thinkin'.

My first thought was of a scene from the 1934 film It Happened One Night, when Clark Gable creates a room divider out of a blanket between his and Claudette Colbert's beds. I imagined Tim doing his own version of that for sharing a bed with Lucy, and it went from there.

Read an excerpt below, or jump on over to AO3 to read it now!

Lucy opened the bathroom door to find Tim arranging pillows on the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, amusement plain on her face and barely able to contain her laughter.

Tim paused and looked up at her. Why did he feel like she caught him doing something he shouldn’t?

“I’m creating a, uh–,” he gestured with his arm, moving it horizontally over the bed from head to toe and back again.

“A pillow wall?” she asked.

Tim looked sheepish under her gaze and shrugged one shoulder.

“Tim…” Lucy swallowed a grin, trying to maintain her professionalism “… do you really think that’s necessary?”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment over the thought of admitting out loud that he was worried about being able to resist his attraction to her—especially when she had already made it clear that she didn’t feel the same way.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I know that this wasn’t part of the plan.”

“It wasn’t. But I can keep my hands to myself if you can.”

Tim held his tongue. That was certainly a loaded subject, and one he had already given far too much thought to in the past 24 hours. He knew he didn’t trust himself to answer. Avoiding the topic, he rolled his eyes and chucked a pillow in her direction.

“Fine,” he relented, and started to place the pillows back at the head of the bed. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“You choose,” she offered, before tossing the pillow back to him. “It really doesn’t matter to me.”

A knock and a voice diverted their attention to the door.

“Room service.”

Lucy was already making her way to the door when Tim stopped her. 

“Wait,” he said in a firm, but quiet voice, causing Lucy to turn to look at him. She noticed his hand hovering behind the firearm tucked away at the small of his back.

“I’ve got it,” she reassured him. “It’s okay.”

“I know you do,” he returned, stepping in close and lowering his voice. “I just don’t like this. Any of this. I keep feeling like something is going to go wrong or our cover’s going to be blown.” He peered through the peephole to find a waiter with a room service cart on the other side. Keeping his hand behind his back, Tim opened the door, then poked his head out to look up and down the hallway.

The coast was clear.

“Baby,” Lucy cooed, walking toward Tim, “you got us room service?” Her fingers curled around his biceps and the tips of her press-on nails sent a shiver through his body.

He turned his head to look at her, and dammit, the way she looked up at him with adoration written so plainly across her face reminded him she could turn her undercover persona on and off so easily. If he didn’t know any better, he’d believe she was actually into him. And it was his job to play along.

Read on AO3

[lovelycorpseprincess]

I don't post to this blog much anymore bc I'm mostly cutting out social media, but here's an update since some of my kinksters (ily) have shown up from my main kink blog:

tl;Dr: it turns out being traumatized affects your whole life, and you actually can become an orphan multiple times. traumadumping, mostly.

basically right now I'm in a limbo waiting for sitting to change. most things are good right now -- I've been working out everyday for a month and gotten to the stage where I feel wrong if I don't, I'm looking at a couple procedures to get my self confidence up, and my husband is doing great in an insanely difficult academic field with graduation coming up, plus we're looking at finally being able to get pregnant around the start of 2026 and bring a mother is all I've ever wanted. things are looking so good.

but my mental health isn't. and I'm only writing this up because I really only speak to my husband and roommate, and after leaving my primary therapist because he called me a p*do (absolutely zero understanding of paraphilia and the difference between contact/avoidant behavior -- six years and he doesn't seem to know me well enough to know I would kms before I did what was done to me), my DID specialist has been in hospital for 3 months and we're losing our communication bridges between each other.

largely due to stress. and like I said things are really great otherwise! life is finally moving in a direction I've been waiting for for years.

but my traumas are family-based. the root of my DID and hypersexuality is that I was raped repeatedly between 2 and 6. my grandmother knew and covered it up and my mother, who is unmedicated un-therapy-ed ADHD & borderline, ignored every sign. my grandmother is herself terrible, but my mother is beyond unstable and erratic and extremely emotionally immature. telling her about the rape, it becomes a screaming fit about what a bad mother she must have been.

I broke contact for 4 years thinking what was wrong with our relationship was me, and got medicated, got psychotherapy, processed things I had repressed, and came back to her to figure out our relationship. she seemed less volatile, said she'd done mushrooms and healed some of her trauma, that everyone said she was better and we could be friends. what, in fact, she's been doing is treating my stepfather exactly the way she treated me -- always at fault, aggressive, manipulative, controlling. she hasn't improved at all.

we're in a position right now where, when she commented that she'd never hit children and I calmly reminded her that she belted me as a kid, we've exploded into "how dare you accuse me of being an abusive mother" and not being able to even explain because all she knows how to do is scream and deny and not let anyone else speak.

so in the middle of processing the rape, trying to understand that what I repressed for 20 odd years is in fact what's always been wrong with me and why I have a sex addiction, I thought my mom was better and we could heal through it like we should've been allowed to when I was little -- and she's not better at all. it's costing us the stability of our system, and part of why I returned contact is because we're so close to having children and I know she'd want to know her grandchildren, but I'm realizing now that I'm going to have to do what I planned to in the first place: keeping my children away from her, and going back to an orphaned mentality. my stepfather, who's really the only sane one in this situation, will get to know my kids, but she's destroyed their marriage and I'm facing down not only that she's divorcing the person I thought could help her, but that she's going to be resentful in the future because he'll get to know his grandkids and she won't.

so we're coping more than living, but not going anywhere. our major focus right now is our original work on AO3, which I'll pin on my blog so you can find it easy. it's a coping mechanism, so it's all dead dove, but I have a degree in writing, so there's plot and more goodies in it than just porn. oh, and there's a lot of porn in it.

in any case, life is hard and that makes the things you fight for worth it. I hope to be more active soon.

kisses xoxo

[fancyfade]

raven chronic pain headcanons

brought on from headcanon of @momo-whore about raven having chronic pain, since textually raven does state she still has the pain she absorbed when she heals people.

also crowdsourced some of these headcanons with people in the raven discord

Raven’s pain increases a lot when she joins the titans and starts using her healing powers more often. She didn’t notice it as much on Azarath.

the titans take forever to notice raven has chronic pain because she is very good at hiding it and extremely emotionally repressed and doesn’t want to burden other people with her problems (from her POV), so on bad pain days she locks herself in her room and tells people she’s meditating

Don’t know if this is comics but taking from the cartoon: raven’s room is a sacred, do not enter space, because she doesn’t want anyone to see her at first in what she considers a vulnerable and needy state, but even when she gets more comfortable and accepting of herself she does need a place without anyone else to avoid being overwhelmed, since being in pain makes it harder to deal with overwhelming sensory stimuli (and raven is obviously autistic, too Link)

She knits and crochets (Ok this is also from someone else’s headcanon) but on bad pain days she prefers crocheting because you can stop in the middle of a row on crochet but you can’t stop in the middle of a row when knitting, so if she was knitting she wouldn’t be able to stop when she starts hurting too bad.

Vic shows her some stretches to help with her pain. He also is one of the first people who she opens up to about her pain, because Vic also has chronic pain from his amputations and she can sense it.*

Vic is also the person to convince Raven that it’s not shameful to be disabled (she has the internalized ableism of “yeah its OK for OTHER PEOPLE but it’s insulting/taking away resources from people who really need it if **I** am”). Raven eventually uses some mobility aids on bad pain days, but not until we get the white raven outfit and she’s at the stage where she seems to be allowing herself to admit she can experience emotion.

The Titans are already shown to feel bad when Raven has to heal them, because they know it hurts her (temporarily), but I think they knew she suffered after affects they would be even more reluctant to have her heal them.

She gets a purple cane with flowers on it. When the cane falls down enough that the pain chips, Joey repaints it.

Dick helps Raven go shopping for braces for bad pain days and tells her about when he was recovering from various injuries and used the braces to help. Raven is like “Why are you like this why didn’t you just wait and recover.” dick: “look who’s talking” (thinking of many instances she healed the team when it hurts her)

Raven loves drinking tea and the heat helps a lot especially when her hands are really hurting. If she has a project she wants to knit she’ll set up right near the water boiler

When the titans figure out about Raven’s chronic pain they want to take her off the chore wheel (they also want to take vic off the chore wheel but he is like “U guys do know my pain works differently right”) but she’s still too reluctant to accept help so dick like tries to observe her for a week and see which chores she seems least affected by and has her do those. He has to keep making up excuses for why he’s hanging around and watching her so closely and as an empath she can tell he’s lying but she doesn’t call him on it. He can help take care of her as long as he doesn’t admit he’s doing it so she can pretend its not happening :P

Raven’s comfort food is fruit parfaits and on her worst pain days her friends prepare them for her so she can take her mind off it.

Kory will can heat her hands up slightly with her starbolts and give raven heated massages. We’ll say Raven is probably only comfortable with this level of intimacy after Raven and Kory’s skinny dipping adventure (when Kory was trying to help Raven work through her feelings about Dick).

*I might want to write a post for Vic too but that’s going to require doing more research into amputation and how amputees experience chronic pain and disability

[ncitygirls]

eternal - jaemin x f reader

fluff, smut, vampire!jaemin, 2.2k

he had yet to utter a word since his confession, and neither had you, though you had tried piecing together a worthy response. he simply watched you as you watched him, your eyes focusing on each delicate ridge in his skin, admiring his nonexistent pores; how the thin slithers of light that broke through the poorly drawn curtain, shone on a bend from the ends of his bangs down and around his chin. a kind reminder of what you swear you have always known, but regret to have never questioned.

“jaemin?”

“my love?”

“have you always been this beautiful?’

he had to admit he was taken back. those are the first words you have said in a long while. they are your first words since he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago - he was counting, not actively, but over time his mind has created room for his thinking to expand, to surpass humanity’s understanding of thought, and most times he welcomes it. but not at times such as these - where he knows he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago, and your first words are in awe of him.

“i told you i am undead.. and that is what troubles you?”

“your beauty is far from troubling,” you retort, eyes still inspecting his face. jaemin’s mind wanders back to when he once pitied humans. how they thought what they saw was really seeing. victims of an already limited life, the human eye is only able to pick up a fraction of their sublime reality. yet the way your eyes traverse each of his features, as if to commit them to memory, he surely found a compelling reason to admit their eyes were not so lacking. “was it the bite that made you so handsome?”

“i wasn’t bitten,” he corrects, as the pads of your thumbs sweep over his cold knuckles, your touch casting a reverence over the scene. he lets out a pretty laugh at your assumption, the soft crease between your brows forming as he destroys your fictional understanding of his kind. “humans have always had a skewed understanding of our lore.”

“so your mother and father were vampires?”

“no.” it has been some time since he has had to explain vampiric lore to a human, but his mind retains his memory of it all the same. “it is not dissimilar to what humans call possession? or a spell? it is a combination of the two.”

“did it hurt?”

jaemin cannot help but melt at the notes of concern lacing your tone. it is his turn to pass his thumb along your knuckles before flipping your hand over, letting his finger trace a swirl in your palm, offering a soft shake of his head. “it makes one feel queasy, a consequence of the change in dietary needs.”

your hand stiffens beneath his touch as your eyes drop to examine them. he fears he has spoken out of turn, pushed the astonishingly pleasant conversation down a dark hole. jaemin once believed humans to be predictable, but you continue to challenge that. “is that why my invites to have you for dinner always go unanswered?”

“i knew that wounded you, angel.”

“it did no such thing!” his chin drops, eyes boring into you in a successful attempt to lure the truth out of you. he immediately softens when you exhale, in defeat of his gaze or distaste at your transparency, he does not know. jaemin would soften all the same. “i will admit, i did make assumptions to make sense of your refusal.”

“did you think i preferred not to visit?” you had never noticed the flecks of red in the perimeter of his irises until now. they glowed slightly, as if enraged, though you know not with you. “there are rules we must follow when entering a new space, silly, unchangable rules.” his frown deepens when you nod, always understanding even when you shouldn’t. “i apologise if I hurt you, angel.”

“hush now, you need not apologise.” you’re proven right when his eyes return to the perfect colour you remember them for: a golden swirl moving within the rich cocoa, shining only as the light hits it. relief floods him when he rests his forehead on your own. he grips your hips firmly, swaying you both as you call for him.

“jaemin, what is it you do eat?”

“pretty girls named y/n.” oh how he wished you would have laughed then, instead of him opening his eyes to find your horror stricken face. “i swear to you that was a joke. that was in poor taste, i am so sorry.” you find his apology hard to believe as his body shakes, shaking your whole frame along with him.

“do not,” you hit his arm once, “mock,” and a second time though ineffective, “me!”

he saves himself quickly, retreating to safety by putting an unrealistic amount of distance between you two in an inexplicable amount of time. when he abandoned you, you nearly collapse forward with the force you were using to hit him before catching yourself.

“come here.”

“i drink blood.” you did not particularly dislike his attempt to stay on topic, just the topic itself. you try to appear enlightened but you have always found it difficult to repress your repulsion. “i know you have no interest in the macabre.”

“blood is meant to be inside you.”

“i think it tastes great.” he quickly arrives in front of you, your open books and abandoned letters fluttering all over the room as his speed garners its own winds. his thumbs journey over the veins on your wrists, slowly trailing up your forearms. he only speaks again when he hooks his thumbs under your jaw, tilting your head to allow his teeth to graze over the column of your neck. “it is reminiscent of fruit. some blood is like grapefruit and lemon. while some are akin to grape, strawberries.”

“oh,” you sigh, heart slowing as his lips drag along the base of your throat. he pulls back, gazing longingly at your wonderment as you feel his mood swing. bitterness seeps into his eyes in how his taste for blood ironically remains the only provision of some kind of memory of flavour, of normality. “do you enjoy it?”

“blood?”

“being a vampire.” no one has ever asked him such a thing. is there anything to enjoy about eternal life? about reliving his youth, being relocated, remade, renewed over and over and over, for an eternity.

as he gazes down at you, he remembers with all the bad must come some good.

“not always,” he smiles knowingly, thinking of his friends. the lives they built for themselves over a combined millennia. it almost makes him retract saying that. “i do regret some things. like allowing haechan to convince us to help real witches free the falsely accused during the witch trials. only to later discover he had a wager on being able to free more than their coven could.” he loved the way your eyes followed along, he loved knowing he could finally share his life in its entirety with you. “i have a thousand reasons why i should hate it, but I cannot bring myself to.”

“why?” he will find a way to forgive himself for giving you a reason to ask. he will ensure you needn’t ask again.

“because,” he whispers into your mouth, his lips slipping between your own, fingers clasped behind your neck. “if i had died in 1625, i would not have had the honour of making your acquaintance.”

“this is hardly an acquaintance,” you remind him, counting his years in your head as he pulls you flush against him utilising less than a speck of his strength. “careful grandsire,” it tumbles from your lips as he licks against your mouth. “i am not sure a man even three hundred years your junior could make it through what you are starting.”

“you needn’t worry about me,’ he sighs, his groin rolling against your own, his fingers clinging to your breakable frame. “though i must confess, my eating pretty girls named y/n was not said solely in jest.” his fingers toy with your knickers, ice cold digits moving freely along the waistband. “in fact, i fear my sanity depends on it. might you be of some aid?”

“who am i to deny a man nearing his fourth century?” he begs himself not to laugh, if only not to kill the mood but more so to avoid dignifying your mockery. his laughter morphs quickly into pants, your hand slotted wickedly between his own and his groin. “how might i be of assistance to you?”

“just as you are,” he whispers, his dulled teeth passing dangerously along the shell of your ear. as a man of his years, patience isn’t something which he is in short supply. but even then, one grows tired of waiting, for coitus, for love, for you. he is quick to remove your hand, finding his own pacing as he presses you against the wall, your heat pulsing beneath his cock, practically leaking. “i forgot how pliant humans are,” it is wicked how he watches you, his fingers rolling your hardened nub betwixt their pads. you shudder at the sight of him, his golden eyes darkening in the sunlit room, his tongue passing over his sharpened teeth. he smirks as you hiss, his fingers pinching your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue rolls in time with his hips, running his clothed cock along your clothed folds. he is quickly reminded of his strength as his palm collects dust as it meets the wall with a thud, steadying himself as you whine deliciously, his name bleeding from your raw lips. “yes, angel?”

“i need you,” you breathe, gazing up at him as his lips capture yours. your tongues move in tandem, wrapping around the other in a hypnotic frisk. he swallows your whimpers as he lures them out of you. he sucks your tongue into his mouth, hands moving to your rear before lifting you from the ground. he makes little work of you, rendering you a quarter of your size. your ankles lock around his waist as he casts your knickers aside, hissing as the pad of his finger meets your folds.

“might i have a taste now?” he pleads, eyes burning a fiery amber, pure adoration hidden beneath. “please, angel?”

“take all of me, jaemin.” he holds you still, a metre from the ground as he kneels, his hands firm around your thighs before he lowers you over his mouth. his flat tongue licks long stripes up your cunt, tongue flicking along your hooded clit in his descent. he likens you to a spring, his soul knelt before you, preparing an offering to your fountain. he is ready to collect all you offer him, your essence pouring out onto his tongue, soaking his lips, slick down his chin. his eyes fall to a close at the sight of your dazed form, your eyes screwed shut in prayer, his lips puckering around the hood of your clit, the tip of his tongue rolling against the nerve. “jaemin, right there, please.”

he hums in accordance, his tongue circling your clit as your thighs shake on either side of his head. he smirks as you still, his middle and ring finger entering your warm cavern, forcing your hips to roll against his digits. he curves them slowly, pressing against your pink walls, bulging up against your stomach. “you are so fragile,” he says, lips bitten as he watches your body succumb to his touch. he leans closer to you, steadying you on his shoulders to free his hand. he presses his palm to your abdomen, hypnotised by the feeling of his own fingers inside you. letting his thumb drift down, he pulls up the skin hiding your clit, allowing his lips to pucker against the nub before he offers a hard suck. his tongue joins the fold, drinking you in as you let out a sharp cry, the pressure inside and out joining forces to send you over the edge. “when you’re ready, love, come.”

he can feel your skin burning up, see the sheen of sweat coating your entire body. “jaemin,” you continue to chase your high, but cling to the moment. you feel like your convulsions might snap your body in two. that pleasure such as this cannot exist innately, that only he can bestow it on you. you are proven right as you grow more frantic, his fingers rub against the spot inside you that he found with great ease, as his lips suck on your clitoris. the final straw is his gaze, you feel it and fall victim to it. his irises a bright, angelic white, the rim speckled in gold. one cast of your eyes on your lover and you snap.

there is no doubting that as jaemin gazes up at you, he sees glory eternal. he sees life. he sees an angel.

“come angel.”

and you do. jaemin’s simple command breaks a dam, summoning a flood of pleasure you are unsure you will survive. hot iron passes through your veins, lighting you from the inside out. he continues without thought, his lips sucking the pleasure out of you, his fingers still pounding into your swollen pussy. only when your fingers find his hair, pulling him away with a sharp tug does he concede, lowering you into his lap.

“hi,” he says after some time, watching you pant against the wall. “are you still with me?” he jests, palms gliding up and down your aching thighs.

you hum, gazing up at the golden orbs that you decide you mustn’t live without. much like his life, and much like your love. eternal. “always.”

[tordenvejr]

Hey Vic 🌠 I've recently been going through a terrible, terrible heartbreak. The person who I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with suddenly showed up at my apartment out of the blue (he'd spent the summer in the states for vacation) with every single item I'd ever given him in rubbish bags and a vague note to go with it. I was given no true reason as to why. The note didn't explain anything - just everything he wanted back and told me not to harm myself. He even rummaged through my room to fetch everything he'd given me while I wasn't even home. It was cruel. He came back a completely different person than the one I knew - loving, generous, thoughtful, kind - somehow turned into frightening aggression and hatred for everything. He was the best thing that ever happened to me. My high school sweetheart, my everything.

I waited a month to say anything to him because I wanted to try and get my thoughts together - and I did it via email since I've been avoiding my social media like the plague. I received a response about 4 days later and it's... brutal just from looking at the subject of it. I can't bring myself to read it and I don't think I will be able to for a long, long time. I just wanted to apologize for anything I may have done that could've caused it. I know for certain I didn't do anything immoral or hurtful to him. I was devoted to him. I loved him. But... Vic, he threw me away. I forgave him for doing so, too. I always will forgive him. I just don't understand why.

I've been scrambling to pick up the pieces of myself that feel so lost and so torn before my university classes begin but it is incredibly difficult. I find signs of him in every single thing I do. Even the simplest of things - like drinking a glass of water or walking outdoors. Life will always be different without him in it.

I haven't been able to talk to anyone about this, so thank you for letting me share this with you. I am just in a vulnerable place and I am fighting to keep going. I was just wondering if you could share some advice?

Anon 💛

hello 💛 i'm sorry to hear this, it sounds very difficult and painful.

when a trauma happens when we least expect it, when our defenses are down, when we think everything is okay, it freezes us all the more, it prevents us from having a full embodied and animated response to the trauma and to the healing process that follows. this means it affects your body even more. a trauma is the state of being frozen in time and in a behavior that was stunned out of movement and out of finishing. that's how traumas get stuck in our body, they were denied the movement of action and release.

be aware that you may benefit from a more physical approach to trauma work in order to unfreeze your body, to breathe back movement into the startled and hurting parts of you, the parts that are confused and can't believe that this happened.

what i get from the way you're sharing this is that there's a lot of responsibility taking which is a good thing when it's in balance with holding the other accountable for their part - but i am not seeing you hold him accountable. and i'm seeing a lot of what seems like automatic and instinctual self blame.

i have some questions that i'd like you to turn inwards:

•  why is the first person you're blaming yourself?

•  why do you want to apologize when you aren't even aware what you did wrong or if you even did anything wrong?

you mention forgiving him right away and how you always would. why are you forgiving him? what is uncomfortable in allowing yourself not to forgive him for a while? what do you think or feel that it would say about you if you didn't instantly forgive him? what is uncomfortable in being angry at him? frustrated? you are skipping very, very vital responses when you jump straight to forgiveness and internal peace making and i have to tell you - when you repress any feelings that are not saintlike it may bring you the instant relief of not having to deal with it now, but it will almost always lead to resentment and bitterness.

allow all of your emotions. you said, "he threw me away", that is a horrible way to treat someone that you had a relationship with, it is disrespectful, cruel and immature. it is short of how you should treat any other person, and much less someone you've loved. you have every right to be frustrated, angry or furious. in this situation it is healthy for you to get fucking pissed. 

you cannot move through grief if you skip the stage of anger.

i made this list of prompts for parting ways for another anon the other day, but some questions may be helpful for you as well. i would recommend simply feeling your angry feelings before beginning to intellectualize them though. if you want more direct support you can contact me via my website for updates on my practice and services.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Love Me Now, Love Me Always // F.W.

Summary: Five times Fred has been in love with you, and the one time he tells you.

A/N: This is my entry for @kalimagik‘s magical winter writing challenge. My prompts were friends to lovers and my other is in bold in the text. I hope you like!!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pining, light angst

Word count: 3k

One:

It was in the height of summer when Fred Weasley came to the realisation that he was in love with you.

It was the height of summer; temperatures teetering on the edge of the twenties – no mean feat for a British summer. It had been dreadfully humid; to the point where Fred was pulling his shirt away from his torso in a futile effort to keep the sweat from soaking through the thin material.

Cold drinks and ice creams were on the menu the day that Fred realised he was in love with you. From fairytales and stories, Fred wondered whether he would feel this grand moment in which he knew he had found the one he wanted to love for the rest of his life. His own mother had regaled him stories when he was a young boy about witches and wizards like themselves who had found their one true love; of brave princes who fought magical beasts to save the princess and ask for her hand. He had heard them all from being a youngster.

However, for Fred, it had been a smile and a laugh.

You had spent the majority of the summer with Fred at the Burrow. Your family travelling abroad to see distant relatives in Europe, and you had chosen not to go with them; instead, asking Molly Weasley whether she would mind you staying with the Weasley family until school started in September. Molly had accepted; she would never leave one of her children’s friend out in the cold.

It had been weeks of laughter and mischief filled smiles. Fred felt certain that he had not felt this happy in a long time; the attention he so happily soaked from you bringing colour to his cheeks.

A smile and a laugh; that was all it took for Fred’s heart to skip a beat and his mind to come to terms with the knowledge that over the weeks you had been staying with his family, Fred had been falling deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

The realisation knocked him breathless as he continued to listen to your laughter; your reaction from a story told by Ron. The words faded to white noise as he focused his entire attention on you; your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes lit up under the summer evening sun. His eyes poured over every inch of you and he simply couldn’t help but question whether he had always been in love with you or whether this was a new development in your long friendship.

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, flashing a warm smile in Fred’s direction before returning your attention to Ron, Fred thinks that no, he’s always been in love with you.

Then and there, he’s more than certain that he always will.

Two:

“Are you trying to get yourself killed or expelled, is that it?” You demand, hands firmly on your hips as you glare at the redhead.

Fred has the decency to look somewhat ashamed of himself as he avoids your gaze, looking absolutely anywhere else in the room than at you and the disappointed look on your face.

“The prize money…” He trails off, making a dismissive gesture with his hand; wanting to explain it further but not able to find the right words.

Your eyes soften at his explanation, understanding dawning across your face. “Fred,” You whisper, “This isn’t the way to go about it.”

“Then what would you suggest?” He snaps, instantly hating the acid behind his words as he watches the hurt bloom in your eyes.

You throw out your hands in exasperation, “I don’t know! A bank loan or something. We can figure it out but entering into a competition that risks your life is not the way to go about it.”

Fred remains silent; feeling thoroughly put in his place. You cross your arms; trying not to let the hurt you feel so deep inside show across your face as you ask, “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing such a thing?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but quickly shuts it. He doesn’t know what to say; he doesn’t know how to tell you about his plans for the future, about how he sees you by his side through it all. He hasn’t the foggiest on how to explain his deepest desires, so he settles for silence for now.

You hold a hand to your stomach as your other reaches up to only juts contain the sob that bursts free. “I was so worried. If your name was pulled out of that cup, Fred Weasley, I don’t know what I would do.”

Something in Fred softens; his heart yearns to take you into his arms, to kiss you senseless as he reassures you he would never do something so utterly reckless again. But he doesn’t do that. Instead, he reaches out for you, a hand beckoning for you to join him on the hospital bed.

You scramble to him, settling next to him on the bed, automatically resting your head on his shoulder and grabbing his hand. He squeezes your hand; silently comforting you as he dares to press a kiss to the top of your head.

A friendship this old, there were very few boundaries. A friendship this old, he was bound to have feelings for you. The realisation from the past summer becoming all too clear as he takes in the tension coiling your body tightly, as the kiss he presses to the top of your head does very little to relax to the tightly bound muscles.

Truthfully, he adores you. He would never utter the words to anyone else but you for the fear of having the mick taken out of him, but he does. He adores you entirely, and to see you almost broken at the idea of him possibly entering such a competition – it stirred something in him. A desire to never put you through something like this again.

He presses two more kisses to the top of your head, still worried about the tension tightening your body. “Love,” Fred starts; voice low so other students can’t listen in, “I need you to know, I have absolutely no plans on leaving you without telling you.”

You sniffle, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Good,” You whisper, “Because you definitely do not have my permission to go anywhere, Weasley.”

Fred chuckles, tugging you closer, ignoring the rapid beating of his heart as you cuddle closer to him. He drops one more kiss to your head before murmuring, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Three:

Eyes wide, you glance around the brightly coloured shop. For anyone else, the orange and purple design would be classed as gaudy, but for the Weasley twins, this was nothing short of an explosion of their personalities.

Fred follows you like a lost puppy; hands fidgeting at his sides as he clenches them into fists and then relaxes them once more. A nervous habit, you realise. He waits patiently for your thoughts as your eyes continue to dance around the shop. Repressing a grin, you turn your attention to Fred. His eyes are bright with questions already waiting, poised on his lips as he tries his best not to bombard you and beg for your opinion.

Spinning in your spot, you release a happy laugh, all the while exclaiming, “Fred, this is wonderful.”

“You think?” He asks, a note on insecurity in his tone.

You grin, nodding your head, “All of this, Fred, is wonderful. It’s going to be a hit, so many are going to love it.”

It almost overwhelms him then. His feelings for you. They rise from his gut; almost cutting off his air as the words he has wanted to say since that fateful summer threaten to choke him. He gathers you in his arms, spinning you in a circle, “Thank you, love.”

For Fred, opening the shop was his dream. However, watching you stand in the middle of the shop, a wide smile on your face as you take everything in, Fred is almost overcome with the intensity of his desire to take your friendship to the next level. Not yet, he tells himself, everything was still so new with the shop and something dark was brewing. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.

Not yet, he tells himself, but soon.

Four:

Endless screaming; endless shouting; endless fighting. That was all it had been. For hours, the castle once thought of as a second home for many students had been the battleground for the opposing sides of war. Those siding with the Dark Lord making it their aim to destroy such a symbol of power and innate goodness; those against him doing their best to keep the castle standing whether it meant laying down their life in the process.

Fred’s mind had been one thing through the whole battle: you.

Even as the wall next to him began to crack; even as it shattered into a million pieces and he was blown out of the way by a spell from Percy, his only thought on his mind had been about you.

Desperately, Fred stalks the lines of injured and dead in the Great Hall. Frantically searching for a glimpse of your hair or a flash of your clothes; anything that would answer the one question circling his mind.

It’s the sound of your cry that has him whirling towards you; relief already being written across his handsome features as he spies you sprinting towards him. He spies blood on your face and on your clothes, but he doesn’t dare ask where it stems from, he doesn’t dare ruin the sweetness of this moment.

You come to a stop in front of him. No words dared uttered as eyes scan the other, worriedly checking for any sign of injury. “I can’t lose you,” You cry, “You have to promise me you won’t leave me.”

Fred hauls you into a hug; crushing your face to his chest as his arms wrap around you so tightly that it almost crushes the breath from your lungs. His hand runs down the length of your body, starting at your hair and ending at the small of your back, “Never. I never plan on leaving you.”

Both of you stand there; clinging onto each other for dear life, inhaling each other’s scent. He smells like brick dust, but underneath all the dirt and blood, you can still smell the citrus and cedarwood that you have come to associate with him.

Gently, Fred rocks you from side to side. To so many, Fred is known to have rough edges. To be loud and spontaneous, and to act before thinking. However, for you, he would be soft. He would be the comforting presence in your life; to be the one to whisper reassuring words and sweet nothings whenever you needed.

He wanted to be the one to love you for however long humanly possible. He just needed to work up the courage to confess.

Five:

The nightmares are the worst part of it all. The constant nightmares that make him question whether he’s awake or asleep.

You’ve taken to sleeping on the couch. It started a month after the end of the war; your flat too small for you to feel comfortable enough on a night. Fred would never tell you this, but he’s glad that the size of your flat drove you to his. Knowing you sleep mere feet away helps him return from the terror inflicted in the night.

He doesn’t like to think of how many times he has woken you in the night. His screams permeating the night air as his fear invades every room of the flat. He doesn’t like to think how often you calmed him down; your fingers carding through his hair until his heart slows to an acceptable pace.

It’s as you crawl into bed with him; a side of his bed already stained with the smell of your perfume, that Fred admits to himself, he is doing better. The healing process has started; the nightmares only being part of it.

Fred believes it’s down to you. You push him to work on himself; to fight through the terror that keeps him in its grip every night. To talk about what happened and his near death experience; you were the first he confessed everything to. He couldn’t face George; he couldn’t face explaining just what went through his head as he readied himself to meet the winged clutches of the reaper.

Fred knows it’s down to you, and he loves you more for it. In the early months after the war, he thought you would leave. He thought that after the first few nightmares, you would call it quits, distancing yourself from him in preservation of your own sanity. He didn’t like to admit to himself how often he kept himself awake with that very thought; how long would it be until you walked away and out of his life?

The time never came, however, and he loves you all the more.

One:

Fred tells you he loves on a sunny day in March. Over a year since the end of the war, and over a decade of friendship, Fred simply cannot remember a time when he didn’t keep you close to his heart.

The day had started off by following its usual routine; breakfast then opening the shop. From there, Fred would manage whatever customers would walk through the door, greeting each and every one with a smile and a pleasantry. He may be a famous prankster, but that didn’t mean his mother had raised him to be impolite.

You join him just before lunch; bell ringing above the joke shop door as you walked in. A smile already on your face at the mere sight of Fred working so devotedly. The smile that breaks across his face when he spies your presence has your heart racing and your palm sweating; you don’t think he even realises the effect he has on you.

“Fancy grabbing lunch with me?” You ask, hoping he says yes.

“When do I ever say no to you?” Fred jokes: mischief bright in his eyes as he grabs his coat, shouting to George that he would gone for a bit.

You never grab lunch. The weather being too nice to spend it inside a café. Outside the shop, you turn to the tall redhead to find him already watching you with a look you cannot decipher. Smiling, you ask, “Shall we just walk instead? The weather is too nice to eat inside.”

Fred chuckles, dramatically bowing at the waist before exclaiming, “After you, my lady.”

You snort, stepping past him to continue up Diagon Alley, heading towards The Leaky Cauldron. Fred asks few questions about the destination you had in mind; just that the hustle and bustle of muggle London becomes apparent as you turn right outside The Leaky Cauldron.

Fred grabs your hand part way through the walk; an almost absent minded action that has your heart fluttering in your chest. Briefly, you wonder if this is it, if Fred is finally going confess that he reciprocates the feelings you’ve long held for the redhead.

As you both continue to walk, each step if more tension-filled than the last. The electricity between you crackling almost audibly.

He pauses suddenly, his feet no longer moving forward as he’s overcome with the depth of his feelings for you. He tugs you to a stop; wanting to smile at the puzzled expression on your face. “Fred? What’s wrong?” You ask; nothing but concern lacing your voice.

“I need to tell you something,” He rushes out, “It can’t wait any longer.”

The crease between your eyebrows deepens; it takes everything within him not to reach out a finger and smooth it down. “You can tell me anything, Fred,” You state firmly; fingers squeezing his tightly before letting them drop.

“I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“I’m in love with you. I want to love you today, tomorrow, and every day from now on, if you’ll let me,”Fred gasps; the emotions choking off his voice as the sentence ends in a whisper of a plea.

The tears fall down your face freely. “You do?” You sob, voice breaking from the emotions building inside of you.

“I do,” He states. His voice more confident as the feelings he has had for you since he was sixteen years old take root within his heart. The very muscle growing in size to accompany the scale of his feelings for you.

“I love you too,” You confess, your teeth worrying your lower lip as you wring your hands together.

Something within Fred snaps, and before you’re fully aware of it, he has you in his arms. He pulls you tight to him; the length of your body pressed entirely up against his as he buries his face in your neck, practically shuddering with relief.

It takes a moment for Fred to regain composure, to pull his head from the safety of the crook of your neck. He smiles down at you; a wide grin that only heightens your happiness. You reach out tentatively; gently running your thumb across his cheekbone and down the length of his face. He captures your hand in his, pressing a kiss to each fingertip, all the whole his gaze never leaves yours.

He searches your eyes for a silent answer to a silent question. Nodding, you stand on your tiptoes, desperate to reach his height. Timidly, you brush your lips against his. A barely there kiss that has Fred’s veins igniting to flame.

He drops your hand. Instead, he curls his fingers around your waist, tugging you even closer to him as the pressure against your mouth increases. Fred’s mouth insistent on yours as his desperation to memorise every inch of you reaches fever pitch.

You wind your arms around his neck, gasping against his mouth as his hands begin to travel, splaying against your lower back. Fred takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss; he tastes of the tea he drank with his lunch. You cling onto him tighter, wanting nothing more than to take this further until the need for air becomes too much and you reluctantly pull away.

Breaking the kiss, you murmur into the small space between you, “Love me now, Fred. Love me always.”

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95​ @acciotwinz​ @slytherinsunrise​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @remmyswritings​ @xfirstfemale-marauderx​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @ria-rests-here​ @superbturtlemakerathlete​ @inglourious-imagines​ @ithilwen-lionheart​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @ilovejjmaybank​

Fred Weasley taglist: @whiz-bangs78​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual​ @seppys-return-to-madness​ @hexmione​ @ickle-ronniekins​ @oh-for-merlins-sake​

[1994sunflower]

Can you just make something really fluffy of just her hanging out with Ashton and Calum while Micheal is busy or something. Like just siblings love because I could use some nice fluff from my favorite writer at this point. Pretty please. If not it's totally chill. ( Heaven to you)

so so cute, I really liked exploring this friendship. hope you like it!

in which you spend some time with calum and ashton

“I’m serious Michael.” You kept pushing him away from you. Tapping the textbook on his lap, “You need to study, you’re going to fail the class if you don’t pass this exam.”

Michael groaned, “It’s a fucking elective, it’s not like I need it to graduate.”

He’d been trying to avoid the studying he denied needing (but knew he did). You were doing your best to not be distracting. You studied yourself, scrolled on your phone, never once speaking to him lest you take his attention away.

But his eyes always seemed to eventually trail over to your small figure laying on his bed after a long time of staring blankly at the book in front of him. Sometimes he would ask you what you were doing, claiming he was taking a break. Other times he would try to kiss you and start something you knew would definitely just destroy his concentration on classwork. He was just a natural procrastinator.

You pushed him away each time, no matter how sweetly he approached you or how innocent his words seemed. You knew his tricks. And frankly, you were worried you might be too weak to resist him if you let him get any closer.

“That’s right. It’s an elective you chose, so you have to study for it. I know you’ll do fine if you’d just actually try.” You’d made your mind up already on what the solution to the problem was. Because apparently it was you, he couldn’t concentrate with you in the room. You got up from his bed, taking your phone and his with you. No distractions. “I’ll come back when you’ve actually finished studying.”

“Wha-” Michael moved to grab your wrist but you moved out of the way quickly. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. You study or I’ll leave altogether. You’re going to pass this class.” You smiled at him, just to show him just how much you believed and cared about him. You were doing this for his own good. “I’ll be outside when you’re done.”

“What are you even going to do all alone?” Michael called out, turned away completely from his book as he stared at you with disbelieving eyes. You’d always ended up going along with his attempts of distractions before, you’d never actually gone this far to make him study. Not when your absence was likely the biggest punishment his girlfriend could inflict.

You huffed, stepping out of his room, “Worry about what you’re going to do in this room, Michael Clifford.”

You full named him. Michael groaned heavily as he rested his forehead against his desk, that was how he knew you were serious. And he had nothing to do but dreadfully start learning about a subject he didn’t even care about and barely understood during the little lectures he did attend. Because no matter how docile you may appear and how intimidating he may seem to everyone else, his small girlfriend was truly the only one who would ever be able to tell him what to do. He’s wrapped around your finger.

-

The house was lit up for once and you could see Ashton wrestling with the control in his hands, completely immersed in whatever war game was on in the television. Calum was sitting on the opposite side of the couch, glancing up at the screen every so often. But his attention was almost completely on the laptop on his lap. At least one of the people in that house tried to do his school work.

You stepped out hesitantly. You already missed the comfort of your boyfriend’s presence. It might’ve been a punishment for both of you. But it was for his best. So you sighed and moved forward nonetheless. You always felt equally as safe and more than happy in Ashton and Calum’s presence.

“What are you two doing?” You asked as you took a seat next to Ashton. Your movements were confident, like second nature because they never made you feel like you were intruding.

Ashton’s only acknowledgement of you was a nudge but Calum looked up from his screen and smiled at you. It hadn’t been long since you could say you barely knew him, compared to your relationship Ashton. But you were glad that your friendship had evolved and you felt a lot closer to him, a lot more comfortable and friendly.

Calum gestured to his screen which you couldn’t see, “Well, I’m doing my work unlike other people.”

Ashton was just able to let go of the controller with one hand to be able to flip Calum off before going back to handling it with two. The multitasking was honestly impressive.

“At least someone in this house is being a good student.” You muttered, placing Michael’s phone on your lap as you leaned back on the couch. A sigh left your lips as if all your attempts with Michael had left you exhausted.

“I’m sorry.” Ashton glanced at you and only then did you realize he had paused his game, “Are you insinuating that I’m not a good student?”

“I’m ‘insinuating’ that I didn’t know you knew big words.”

“Fuck you, Hood.”

Your giggles were the only thing that stopped Ashton from some saying some very select words to Calum. A smile formed on his lips without him even thinking about it. It was hard to repress, your happiness was contagious. He understood why Michael always talked about your goodness.

“Where’s Michael anyway?” Ashton asked, his tone already teasing. “I was wondering when you’d get sick of being around each other 24/7.”

“Hey!” You slapped his arm in faux-anger. To which he laughed promptly, ruffling your hair dismissively enough for you to swat at him again.

Your attempt to get your hair back to normal was useless until Calum decided to move forward and place the pieces of hair back in place for you. You sat perfectly still as he did. They were always gentle with you. Sometimes you wondered if they thought you would break otherwise, you looked dainty but you’d gotten used to Michael’s manhandling, not being held back by that.

“For your information, he’s studying too. So it seems you’re the only one who isn’t, Ash.”

Ashton eyed you up and down, “I don’t see a book in your hands.”

You glared up at him but to both he and Calum, you looked a little less threatening than a Chihuahua. So they did nothing but smirk back down at you until you huffed out and crossed your arms.

Calum closed his laptop, his attention evidently no longer being held by it. “So you’re just going to wait until he’s done?”

Ashton scoffed, “As if he’s actually studying. Sorry to tell you, Y/N, but you’re giving him way too much credit.”

You looked so offended at his words that both of them wordlessly burst out laughing. Ashton shook his head, his grin so big you could see his dimples as he held out the control in his hands to you.

“Here. While you wait the whole 10 minutes he’ll pretend to be studying, you can play with us.”

Ashton was serious about his games. Only letting a select few friends ever even pick up one of his controllers. It was a privilege for only the people he liked the most. One he was giving you and you beamed with pride. You took the controller from his hand.

Calum took the other one left abandoned on the floor. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, feeling utterly too confident for someone who could barely hold the controller correctly. “You’re going down, frat boy.”

Calum let out a surprised laugh. It was so easy to forget who exactly he was associated with when he was so different from all the frat boys you’d ever known. You were grateful he was, because otherwise you’d never feel comfortable with him. And certainly never develop the close friendship you had with him.

Ashton was kind enough to change the game, knowing you weren’t fond of war, even depictions of it. How ironic for a girl who was dating a guy that seemed to bring the spirit of war anytime he got pissed off. He didn’t ask but you felt happy that he knew you enough to think of your preferences.

It was sweet. The way they took the time to remind you what exactly the keys did (Ashton reminding you for the nth time since the first time you taught you).

“You’ll do fine.” Calum waved dismissively, leaning back on the couch. His laptop long forgotten next to him. “But not better than me.”

When the game finally started, it was a slow start. Mostly because you were trying to get into the rhythm of things and Calum slowed down too, allowing you to adjust. They both watched you carefully, nodding when you were hesitant about pressing a button. Even giving you words of encouragement when you actually did well in the game. Or when your calm demeanor sent a wave of enjoyment through the three of you.

“I think we like you more than Michael.”

“Yeah, you better.”

Your grin and giggles was genuine. You were having fun. Even without Michael there. While any other time you’d be just counting down the time until you could get back to him. Good thing his friends, your friends as well, were so hospitable and nice to be around. That they included you and they liked you. It sure meant a lot to Michael anyway that the people closest to him cared for you and looked after you even when he wasn’t there.

Truthfully, they weren’t the type of guys you would’ve befriended if you hadn’t dated Michael; you were too shy and they were too outgoing and friendly. You would’ve been too hesitant to even try to go into their world or group, you would’ve been too awkward and nervous. But despite that, you felt perfectly comfortable in their presence. And you were glad they were your friends.

Ashton helped you a lot during the game. His gaze would be completely on the screen as he watched you and Calum play but his hands hovered over yours. His fingers sometimes clicking buttons for you that you never would have known to press otherwise. Other times, completely moving your fingers as if he was playing through your hands. You didn’t mind, in fact you preferred it when he helped. It was when you started winning.

His face was focused, serious as it always was when he was playing and it was kind of amusing to glance at, especially because technically, he wasn’t playing.

Calum didn’t call you out for cheating even though having Ashton help you technically was exactly that. It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware. It was pretty obvious, Ashton did nothing to hide it. And even if he did, it was kind of hard to not at least be suspicious when your sloppy gaming suddenly got much better and you started to win. But for your sake, Calum pretended to be oblivious.

Truth was, you sucked. But if anyone ever even tried saying that to you, they’d be asking for a death wish. Especially when you looked so content just to be involved, you trying your best. And that was what mattered to them.

It was subtle when Calum began to ease up on his playing. You didn’t notice. Not even when the game that was so close beforehand started to go overwhelmingly in your favor. Just like that Calum let you win. Even if he was known to be competitive. He could put that aside for his dear friend.

You squealed out in happiness, dropping the controller on the sofa as your arms went up in celebration. “Ash!! Did you see that?”

Ashton locked eyes with your excited one and nodded, his own arms mimicking yours and wooping in celebration. Your high fives were probably too many given that it was a video game you won by cheating half of the time and had been allowed to win. But his smile was large and his laugh was genuine.

He turned to Calum, both hands flipping him off in good humor while you placed your hands on Ashton’s shoulders, just enough to be able to look past him above his head to Calum.

You stuck your tongue out at him in the way that was not very sportsmanlike but very cute, so he couldn’t be mad. “Told you I’d win.”

Then you shrieked when Calum pulled your from your seat. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders enough to have you leaning forward from the weight. He wasn’t as big as Michael but he certainly rose up much taller than you. “Yeah, yeah. Good luck trying to beat me again.”

You were laughing along with him, looking up at the amused boy but you couldn’t respond. Michael’s door was flung open before you could. You hadn’t realized how loud the three of you were being.

“If I’m being forced to study could you two at least shut the fuck up so I can concentrate.” He didn’t leave his room, his head just peeking out of his doorway. He was as daunting as always, his face serious and close to emotionless. His words harsh. But if he wanted to be intimidating, it was a shame his demeanor didn’t effect the room filled with the closest people in his life.

Michael’s eyes softened when he spotted you in Calum’s arms. Obviously he hadn’t been talking to you, he never would be so brash with you. Especially when you looked at him with those eyes that said you could do no wrong. But he also hadn’t expected you to be participating in making the noise with his rowdy friends. His voice was markedly nicer, “Oh…what are you doing?”

“What we get yelled at but she doesn’t?” Ashton scoffed.

You smiled sweetly at Michael, knowing that he could never get mad at you. Your nose crinkled slightly from pride, “I just beat Cal at a game.”

Calum placed a hand on the top of your head, “She got lucky. But she’s actually pretty good.”

“She’s a natural.” Ashton interrupted, even if his words were a bit of an exaggeration, you still raised up on your tiptoes for a second at the praise. Ashton’s eyes held a mischief to them. “One of us just might steal her from you, I think she likes us better anyway.”

If it was anyone else that dared utter those words, you were sure the result would be much different. You could imagine the way Michael’s eyes would shut down in anger, the way his body would tense up and his knuckles would be ready to meet bone. They’d be on the ground bleeding, almost as quickly as the words would leave someone’s mouth. The same went if anyone else put their hands on you like Calum was currently doing.

But it was his best friend. Someone he trusted, cared for and most importantly, he knew cared and respected you as well. He knew his friends’ flirty comments were just talk, just to rile him up. So he did nothing but roll his eyes. “Don’t make me have to beat your ass. Just fucking try it.”

But his words were all bark, no bite. They couldn’t be when he was saying it to Ashton when he knew there was no real problem and when you looked so amused, no discomfort at all. Ashton and Calum were flirty with you before, only when Michael was around and only to get a reaction out of him. You never felt uncomfortable, they always respected boundaries and you had begun to enjoy seeing their friendship with your boyfriend.

Michael struggled with being friendly. But it was almost fascinating and sweet to see him enjoy himself with Ashton and Calum, play around with them like any other guy. Not like the angry, mean guy others saw him as. Even when it came to you, when it would otherwise be when he was most on edge and terrifying. It was a big part of why you felt so safe and secure in Ashton and Calum’s presence as well, because Michael seemed the same way and his trust wasn’t easily won.

Your boyfriend turned around after that and went back in his room. Muttering under his breath, not happy that he had to leave the fun and get back to studying. But you watched him o silently, a small smile on your face as he was actually responsible for once.

In truth, Michael was happy you got along so well. That he could leave you with them and be sure that they’d entertain you, keep you comfortable and safe when he wasn’t around. That you saw in his friends the same thing he did, that you liked them and didn’t mind spending time with them. Even with how different they were from you. They didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.

Even then, you found a way to connect with them to the point where he would find you laughing with them, that you’d hug them as a greeting or goodbye, could hang out with them on your own accord. Not being forced to just to make him happy to see his loved ones together.

It just went to show him, once again, how perfect his little girlfriend was. Everyone felt happy with you around, you embodied that happiness, it was impossible not to feel it. You were just so good. And it wasn’t just in his head, a side effect of the love he felt for you, that was proven when he saw the way Ashton and Calum succumbed to your goodness as well. They were powerless not to.

He couldn’t be prouder.

[megan-is-mia]

Hi! Is it okay if I request a poly Pomefiore nsfw oneshot with the prompt starter 103- “You’re so beautiful, chained up like that on my bed. I think I might just fuck you like this.”

Thank you!

(Hopefully, this will make you happy despite how late it is >_<) 103. “You’re so beautiful, chained up like that on my bed. I think I might just fuck you like this.” (Yandere! Pomefiore Dorm x Fem! S/o) (Warning NON-CON AND NSFW AHEAD)

(Y/n) had always been an early riser, ever since she was a child she’d been that way. Since coming to Night Raven College and being sorted into Pomefiore that had not changed. While others rolled out of bed and tamed their bedhead into a presentable coiffure before greeting the day, she’d spend the hour of the sun’s rising just basking in its splendor. Yet today was one of the few times she despised her early-rising nature. For by waking up she had returned to the horrifying nightmare that was her reality. 

She was aware that she was considered a beauty, even among her fellow Pomefiore students where good-looks are almost a requirement to be in the dorm she was considered to be far above-average. Such good looks might have made another soul happy or greedy but not her, for paired with her fair features were a reclusive mind and timid heart that made that gift of beauty a curse. (Y/n)’s  discomfort with dealing with people was half the reason she’d become an early bird as to avoid the conflict before it began. Yet how could she avoid conflict when the place she’d awoken would bring her nothing but conflict? How could (Y/n) hope to continue her life of trying to blend in when people were sure to ask questions at breakfast? Try as she might she couldn't think of a way to explain why she had slept in the dormhead’s bed instead of her own. Yes, that’s where dawn was greeting her. From the unfamiliar warmth and comfort of Vil Schoenheit’s bed as the male in question continued to sleep seemingly undisturbed by her distress. It shouldn’t have been possible for things to be worse, but somehow they were. For it wasn’t just the beautiful boy with his blonde hair that turned lavender at the ends that kept her company but two additional bodies that ensured she wouldn't move a muscle while they slept on.  If (Y/n) turned her head she could see the vice-dormhead Rook Hunt snoring peacefully with his arm wrapped loosely around her waist, his breath ruffling her hair as he breathed in and out.

As for the third occupant nestled snugly in the bed… It took (Y/n) a few moments to recognize the first-year who’s taken the liberty of using her chest as a pillow in his sleep. In her defense, Epel Felmier was basically a stranger to her. The one time they’d spoken being when she’d tried to turn him down gently a few weeks back. After that awkward encounter where she’d had to tell him she wasn’t interested, she’d been making more of an effort to try and blend in with the masses. So why was she here? And why… did her lower body feel so numb? Her head throbbed when she tried to think about it and she let out a small groan of pain as she did so. The moment the sound left her lips, the arm around her waist tightened as Rook let out a yawn. She felt his mouth press against the nape of her neck to place a kiss before he buried his nose into her hair with a contented sigh. “Good morning (Y/n)” the green-eyed male purred softly, his voice still rough from sleep and made her shiver in disgust. (Y/n) imagined that if she were to speak her voice would sound even rougher than his. considering all the screaming she’d done the night before. Yes, despite the pounding headache she had, the memories of the night before were beginning to make their way back to her. How she’d felt unusually tired after dinner, how she’d woken up with her hands cuffed above her head. She’d called out desperately hoping that someone would hear her plea and come to her rescue. Oh her pleas were heard alright, heard by the very souls who’d put her in this situation. She did not remember what exactly they’d said to her in the moment. Yet one phrase from Vil came back to her loud and clear as when it had been first uttered. “You’re so beautiful, chained up like that on my bed. I think I might just fuck you like this” the blonde had growled out, his perfectly cultivated appearance and personality torn away to reveal a man utterly consumed by lovesickness. Epel would have been the first one on her had he not been held back by Rook who reminded him playfully to respect his elders. The first-year had retorted back that it wasn’t fair for him to have to wait when he’d been pining the hardest and been the only one formally rejected by (Y/n). Still, he’d acquiesced to the matter, standing with crossed arms as he watched Vil run his hands over the girl, muttering a mix of criticisms and compliments as he went lower and lower. The entire time the young woman’s only contributions had been pleas for them to stop, for them to let her go, for them to act like nothing had ever happened. All these requests had been met with callous laughter and condescending platitudes. After Vil had completed his overview of (Y/n) he gestured to the other two men to come join him on the bed. Now instead of one set of roaming hands on her body, there were three: pinching, squeezing, petting, and stroking. It was all so overwhelming; one moment she was struggling to keep her legs closed so her pants couldn't be removed, the next she was naked as a newborn babe with her legs thrown over Rook’s shoulders as he ate her out. When she tried to protest again, Vil’s lips were pressed against hers as he shoved his tongue down her throat. As for her bust… well it seemed Epel seemed to be quite interested in that part of her if the fact he was suckling greedily on one nipple while pinching the other between his fingers. Why it’s a wonder she was able to resist cumming for so long with all the stimuli she was being barraged with. So when she lost it, she lost it hard. Moaning into Vil’s mouth arching up into Epel’s touch, and drenching Rook’s face with her juices. Yet the man had kept going, tongue fucking her ever though she was already overstimulated to give the other two men a chance to undress and jerk themselves off to full-hardness. (Y/n) was on the cusp of a second orgasm when Rook pulled back and Vil took his spot between her legs. She’d whimpered when Vil had pressed his cock against her dripping entrance but hadn’t been able to stop him from sinking into her with a soft growl. Nor had (Y/n) been able to stop Epel from prying her mouth open so he could stuff her throat with his dick. A few moments later she felt something prodding at her already stretched-out cunt as Rook eased his cock in beside the other blonde’s with a low groan. She would have tried to protest this move, had she been able to speak that is. Wasting no time, all three men began fucking her with reckless abandon. Every nerve in her body seemed to be on fire, and her eyes rolled back in her skull as she was fucked senseless. And their stamina, dear lord their stamina. The three must have taken some kind of recovering potion ahead of time in order to keep going when she was nothing more than a limp noodle from overstimulation from her fourth orgasm in rapid suggestion. (Y/n) was already half-unconscious when they’d all finally had their fill of her. Epel forced her to swallow his load as Rook and Vil pulled out of her to watch their cum drip out of her well-fucked cunt with rapt attention. Eventually (Y/n)’s   wrists were released from their bindings and kisses were pressed against the skin that had been rubbed raw from her struggles. Someone, she wasn’t sure who used a damp towel to clean her up before she was helped under the covers and felt arms wrap around her body as the three males got comfortable beside her. (Y/n) wanted to try and stay awake so she could have the chance to escape, but she was truly too weary for that and fell asleep after only a few minutes of laying there. Which then of course brought her back to the now of this morning. The now, where she had a blonde hunter speaking sweet-nothings into her ear as the first-year beside her pressed his face more insistently into her bosom and the dormhead slumbered on totally unaware of the situation at hand. She let out a deep sigh, slightly displacing Epel with the moment so he lifted his head from her chest with a sleepy expression. He stared at her with big, innocent-looking eyes. If this had been the first time she’d seen such a face (Y/n) might have been inclined to stroke his cheek and coo. However, she now knew too well what horrors hide under the pretty exterior. “Heya (Y/n)” he said his words slurred as he let his face fall back into place in her cleavage with a soft yawn. “Bonjour Monsieur Crabapple” Rook said, lifting his hand from (Y/n)’s waist in order to ruffle Epel’s hair affectionately, even as the younger boy let out a whine of protest at the gesture. If she hadn’t been scared out of her mind, the young woman might have tried to shush them so they wouldn’t wake Vil up yet. Everytime she closed her eyes she saw his depraved expression in her mind and she wasn’t sure she had the willpower to deal with that sight yet. Too bad that choice wasn’t up to her, as the male in question let out a yawn and stretched his arms over his head before turning his head her way with one beautiful violet eye open to gaze at her. Whatever he saw, seemed to please the young man as his mouth curled into a smile as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. (Y/n) forced herself not to recoil at the kiss, despite how much she wanted to. Vil’s expression was so sickly sweet that it made her stomach tie itself up in anxious knots. “Morning my darling” Vil said, before pressing a second kiss to the girl’s forehead. The pet name only made her insides twist-up tighter. (Y/n) could feel the panic she’d been repressing since she woke up finally got to her. As her heart began to thump wildly and her body quivered like a leaf in the wind with fresh tears forming in the corners of her eyes. If she thought such a display wouldn't faze the boys she was wrong as it only put them all on high alarm and fussing over her.  She could feel her grip on the waking world begin to fade as her vision blurred and she passed out amidst frantically shaking and worried words from the three males. (Y/n) would have to face reality sooner or later, but it didn’t have to be now. Now she could drift through her own personal dream world for a few more hours of peaceful, blissful ignorance before she would be forced to start adjusting to being the trophy-girlfriend to the trio of insatiable men who’d ruin her life otherwise… THE END

[jaalismyhusband]

Took you long enough

Title: Took you long enough

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x f!reader

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, explicit language, age gap, corruption kink if you squint

Wordcount: 2.9k

Masterlist

To say that these past few months have been stressful is an understatement. You were an aspiring actress and somehow landed a pretty big role in a movie. It already had some famous names attached to it and you were quite intimidated to star along the other actors. But nonetheless, you put on your big girl pants and took the opportunity. Caught in a loop of constant stress, memorizing the lines, filming the scenes, promoting the movie, you had only so much time to really appreciate what was going on. It was only after the first month of filming you realized what the hell was actually happening.

Your co-star Sebastian Stan has helped you a lot with handling everything. You remember, when you found out he was starring in the movie as well, you almost passed out. Getting to know him was such a surreal experience. Although you had a big crush on him, you stayed respectful towards him and you two became rather close friends.

To be honest, the more you got to know him, the more you liked him. And this time it wasn’t just a platonic crush. You tried to fight it, but your struggles were fruitless. You had it bad for your best friend. Acting on your feelings was not an option however. It was no secret that no woman occupied his bedroom for more than one night. You knew it was bad news to fall for him, yet you couldn’t help yourself. You liked how he didn’t pretend, but actually listened to you. How he seemed to remember even the little details you mentioned to him. How protective he was of you from the day you met, especially while defending you when people called you “the new kid” - the nickname stuck with you during the whole period of filming, much to your dislike. You knew they meant well when they called you that nickname, trying to make you feel like a part of the group. You were much younger than most of the cast, but you didn’t think of yourself as a child anymore. It seemed impossible to convince others of that, though.

Only a few people respected you enough not to use that nickname - one of them being Sebastian. At times you thought he didn’t see you as a kid with the way he treated you and you were naïve enough to get your hopes up. That was a mistake, you thought, as you watched the interview Sebastian had done earlier that day. He was asked about the cast members. You anxiously waited for your name to be mentioned, palms sweating as you guessed what he would say about you.

“What about Y/N? You seem close, not to mention how often you are spotted together.” The interviewer raised his brow, as he waited for an answer.

Sebastian smiled widely as he answered: “Yeah, we are really close. She’s like a little sister I never had, you know?”

Your heart clenched painfully, as you stopped the video. You just had to accept that it would never work. How could you be so stupid to think he’d actually like you, when he had so many women at his feet, begging to be noticed by him. You were thankful you were his friend - that had to be enough. It wasn’t, though. No matter what you told yourself, you always ended up thinking about him in inappropriate ways.

The door on your trailer opened and revealed happy Sebastian with take out.

“Hey, I thought to bring you some food, since it’s going to be a long day today.” He smiled at you as he sat down next to you on the couch, handing you your food.

“Thanks.” You smiled back. You didn’t waste time and dug in, only now realizing how hungry you were. He seemed to know you better than you knew yourself.

Sebastian broke the comfortable silence: “Hey, so, I want to ask you for advice.” Did he seem nervous? No, you thought as you hinted him to ask away.

“There’s this woman, that I like. I shouldn’t, but something about her is so intriguing, I can’t help it. And I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“I can’t believe you are asking me for an advice on how to pick up women. You getting rusty, old man?” You joked, as his face fell in disappointment.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I think I’m ready to go all the way with her. But she’s not really – uhm, how to put it – available. That’s why I’m so nervous about it,” he sighed, as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Right, sorry. But still, I think you’re perfectly fine. Just ask her out. She’d be stupid to reject you,” you spoke sincerely.

“Thanks, I’ll go for it then.”

The rest of the lunch was enjoyed in silence.

Few days have passed and your mood seem to only decrease as the time went on. You secretly hoped Sebastian was talking about you and that he would ask you out later. But this was your life, not a romcom. Your hopes were crushed, when you asked Sebastian about it and he confirmed what seemed like your worst nightmare.

“She said yes!” he exclaimed excitedly and you gave him a hug to hide the mixture of unpleasant emotions plastered on your face.

“I’m so happy for you,” and you were, truly. As long as he was happy, you would be too. But why did it hurt so much anyway?

Ever since then, you just weren’t your ever smiling self. What you were was a millennial and you did what millennials knew best – repressed your emotions. Stuffed them deep inside your soul where nobody could acknowledge them, not even you.

The days seemed repetitive. You were exhausted from putting up a show not only when you were filming, but now also when you were in a company of your friends. Luckily, there was only one scene to film and then a much needed vacation awaited.

“CUT!” screamed the director. “What the hell Y/N?! This is the seventh take and you still can’t get it right.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get it this time, I swear,” you apologized and immediately took your spot, wanting nothing more, than to finish this scene, go home and curl up in bed while watching your favourite show.

Today was just one of those days, when it seemed like the whole universe conspired against you. First, your alarm didn’t go off, which resulted in being late on your last day. Your hands were shaking by the time you got to the set and you managed to knock over the cup of coffee, just barely missing your costume. Not to mention how anxious you were, since you were purposely avoiding Sebastian. You only missed him more and yet, you couldn’t stand being in his presence. It hurt not being able to look into his eyes. This all held you back from giving a flawless performance in front of the camera, which only frustrated you even more.

“We believe in you, kid. Breathe, focus. Action!” You were truly thankful for the support, as you finally got the scene right.

“And cut! We got it! Ok, that’s it, guys. It’s been pleasure to work with you all. As you may have heard, there will be an afterparty, if you will, tonight. Please, do come! Till then have a great day everyone!” Finished the director and people started to clap. There has been a heavy boulder of a rock lifted from your shoulders as you realized this was it. You quickly said your goodbyes to everyone, eager to go home and hide.

“Y/N! Wait!” you were on your way out when you heard your name being called. You sighed and put on a smile, before you faced Sebastian.

“Hi, I’ve tried to call you, but you weren’t picking up. You’ve been distant lately. Have you been avoiding me?” He accused.

“No! No, I uh… My phone has been malfunctioning these days, I’m getting it repaired soon,” you weren’t proud of yourself for lying to him, but you weren’t ready to tell him the truth just yet.

“Are you coming to the afterparty?” It was obvious he didn’t buy your white lie, but decided not to ponder on it.

“Oh, I don’t think I am. I’ve had an extraordinarily shitty day and I don’t wanna be a party pooper.” You immediately gave him a list of excuses.

“Yeah, yeah, quit it, queen. I’ll pick you up at 7.” He left you no space to argue and just walked away. You shook your head in disbelief and made your way home.

“Finally,” you exhaled a big breath once you collapsed on your bed. Sleep was an alluring way how to avoid your problems. So, you did the reasonable thing and took a nap.

You woke up right as the sun was setting. You still hadn’t decided if you were going to go to that stupid get together or not. You knew it would be a nice change of pace, to let go for one night. Afterall, it was a celebration of the hard work the cast had done. On the other hand, Sebastian would be there. And now that you thought about it, he would probably bring that woman, he asked out earlier. You weren’t ready to see Sebastian all lovey dovey with someone else, god no.

But this was also the chance to see him for the last time. You weren’t sure if he would keep hanging out with you after the movie was done. Tears stung in your eyes as you realized that he would probably cut ties with you. Sure, you would call each other once a week, then once a month, then only on holidays and then he would eventually stop calling you whatsoever. You were going to lose him. You were so sure of it. The tears were now streaming freely down your cheeks as you hyperventilated. All of those emotions that were supposed to stay stored away came at you at once, demanding to be experienced, to be felt.

You couldn’t calm down and there was only one person who was able to soothe you. Your best friend from high school. Due to your career you two weren’t hanging out as often as you’d like, but your bond hadn’t suffered because of that. You dialled her number after you blew your nose, so you were able to somewhat form words.

“Hi, Y/N! Oh my god, it’s been so long since we’ve actually talked!” You sobbed even harder when you heard her enthusiastic voice.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” she pleaded, as you tried to calm yourself enough to talk.

“Today has just been such a shitshow,” you cried out. You told her all about your day, but the topic soon enough changed to the real reason why you were crying – Sebastian.

“You know what’s the worst thing? I love him. So fucking much. And I know he doesn’t feel the same. He sees me as his little sister. SISTER. No way he would be attracted to someone he considers a sibling. Oh, and have I mentioned that now he’s suddenly had a change of heart and stopped sleeping with random women because he mEt SoMEoNe sPeCiaL?” you mocked him, “I just can’t. I know that I did this to myself and it’s not his fault, but fuck! I can’t even tell him how I feel, because there is only one scenario to this – him ending our friendship because of it. I don’t know if I’m ready to lose him completely.” You kept on rambling as your supportive friend listened, offering you her kind words here and there.

Soon after she apologized profusely, as she explained her break was over and she had to get back to work. You assured her it was okay and that you were thankful she found some time to listen to you pour you broken heart out through the phone. She ended the call by reminding you that she loved you and hung up.

You sighed and blew your nose again. You stood up from your bed, taking the used tissues with you.

“Fuck.” You stopped dead in your tracks, feeling like a deer in front of a headlights. There stood a very shocked Sebastian.

“How did you get here?”

“I came to pick you up, remember? Front door was unlocked, so I let myself in. You didn’t respond when I called your name. I looked for you and found you here, crying,” his voice cracked at his last words: “I have never seen you cry before.” He seemed truly sad, but you were too frightened to notice.

“How much of it did you hear?”

“Everything.” He exhaled and you struggled to meet his gaze. You huffed, storming out of your bedroom, leaving him behind. You just wanted to disappear right on the spot and avoid this confrontation.

You almost ran to the kitchen, throwing the tissues to the bin. You hoped this was all just a bad dream and that in fact Sebastian wasn’t here, but all that convincing was futile once you turned around and saw him sitting in your kitchen. There was a tense silence, as none of you knew what to say next. The air grew heavy, suffocating you.

“So,” Sebastian cleared his throat, “you like me?” To which you only nodded, as you leaned on the counter.

“Why?” he asked. You laughed at that, the sound so alien to you because of all the crying.

“You were nice to me from the first day. You gave me a chance to get to know you. Once we started hanging out I just, I don’t know. I like how you talked to me, like I wasn’t just the new kid. You actually listened to what I had to say. You made me feel special, Seb. Not to mention, you look like a fucking Greek god,” he chuckled at that.

“Weren’t you discouraged by my age? Or the fact that ‘I slept with random women’?” he asked, using your words against you.

“Well, I can’t blame you for that. And I can’t blame those women either. And your age never bothered me. In fact, it’s just another thing about you that turns me on.” You realized too late what you were about to say and just said it. Your eyes widened and your face heated up, as you tried to shrink your existence and hide from Sebastian’s piercing gaze.

“I turn you on?” Sebastian asked, amused by how embarrassed you were. He stood up and walked up to you. You shied away, but he trapped you in between his arms against the counter, so you wouldn’t run.

“I’d like your advice on something,” he started as he looked you straight in the eyes, “There’s this girl I’ve befriended. She’s really young and innocent, like an angel. I think I liked her right from the start, but I knew I wasn’t good for her. And yet, I can’t help but be attracted to her. I’ve tried to forget, but all those meaningless nights and faceless women couldn’t fill the void. Couldn’t erase the feelings she brought up in me every time I thought of her, saw her, touched her. I think about her almost every night. About how I’d hold her, kiss her, make her moan my name.” You squirmed under his gaze, but he paid no mind as he continued his monologue: “I fantasize about deflowering her, turning her into a mess, while I transform her into my greedy whore. The image makes me painfully hard. And now, I have a chance to make her mine. What do you say, doll? Should I go for it?” You gasped at his confession and only weakly nodded.

His lips met yours in a desperate kiss. It was all tongue and teeth. He wasn’t gentle with you by any means, not that you wanted him to be. His hands pulled you impossibly close, as they squeezed your ass, making you moan into the kiss. You both had to stop and take a breath, your foreheads connecting as you panted.

“I made her up, you know,” spoke Sebastian softly.

“What?”

“The woman. She doesn’t exist. It was you who I’ve been talking about, but then I chickened out.”

“Why?” you were curious and anxious at the same time to hear his answer.

“You called me an old man! I thought you would be creeped out!” he got defensive.

“That was a joke, Seb,” you laughed, “Why did you tell me that she accepted?”

He awkwardly scratched his neck, as he mumbled: “I didn’t want to disappoint you, that your advice hadn’t worked.” You just burst out laughing at that. Sebastian didn’t like that, as he faked getting offended and hurt, which only caused to make you cry-laugh. You finally calmed down, after a while, only now seeing how Sebastian was watching you the whole time. He gently wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, as he held your face.

“I love you, Seb,” it felt good to finally say it out loud. You were absolutely lovestruck and at this point you didn’t care.

“Took you long enough,” you rolled your eyes at him, as he smirked.

“I love you too, doll.”

[delirioushrimp]

Salvation is found in pain(ful pleasures) [Your Boyfriend AU]

Once more, I truly have no self control when it comes to @harbingers-appointed and his boys. Be happy Flauros, you finally get to steal the show from the King.

Hope you’ll like it Vee !

How many ? How many times did he kill you since the beginning of this twisted game ? How many times did you come back to him asking, craving, and begging for the punishment he was always so eager to bestow you ?

He cut your throat, watched you drown, let you bleed out, broke every bone in your body so many times you wonder how he hasn’t grown tired out of you yet. After all, no matter how satisfying and amusing it must be to kill a person -one yearning for death so ardently- over and over again, one has to get bored of seeing the same face dying by their hands, right ? You’re just a toy to him, an interesting one -maybe-, but a toy, nonetheless.

You’re not stupid enough to believe he genuinely likes you.

Still, you always come back to him, knowing he’s the only one able to give you what you want, what you deserve. You hate it when he does it in the front of the King though, because watching the pain and self-hatred in those gorgeous blue eyes as your life fades away to hysterical cackles, truly breaks your soul. He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve to suffer so horribly when all he’s done is love you earnestly and wholeheartedly, and most of all he doesn’t deserve loving someone as broken and ruined like you. You curse God for doing this to him, knowing you’ll never be able to return his feelings because you’re not worthy of his love. You’re not worthy of anything but pain.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair !

Lately though, you’re starting to notice a few changes in him. His knife lingers longer than it should, leaving shallow cuts on your skin before piercing you to the bone. His eyes which were usually narrowed in sadistic glee appear distracted, deep in thought as he observes your dying body. It’s strange, you’d never thought you’d get to see him so pensive; he always appears so confident, happy go lucky and in control of everything.

At first, you think it’s because he’s finally growing annoyed of your presence and constant pestering for pain. Maybe he found another, newer and more amusing toy to distract himself with. You would understand if that was the case, it was a wonder he actually “played” with you for that long. But that means you needed to find someone or something able to give you what you sought.

The next time you wake up after another of your “play sessions”, you don’t go to him. Instead, you ignore everyone and everything as you try to come up with a new alternative to your lack of executioner. You manage to evade Samael without much trouble, knowing the castle like the back of your hand after how many times you died there. You’re terrified of gazing into his eyes, terrified to see the absolute grief and agony in them.

You roam around the halls for a while before you manage to find a good enough hiding spot, a small balcony, away from prying eyes. You sit there for who knows how long, time perception long lost ever since the start of this never-ending game. What would happen now ? With nobody else willing to waste their time on you, what are you supposed to do ? Kill yourself over and over again until God decided to take pity on you and finally send your soul to where it belongs ? You remember the bastard’s words after the eighteenth time he cut you open, looking at you with that all-knowing smile.

“His Highness is the only who can end your misery. You could always ask him but- ah” he tilts his head to watch your life spilling away into a red river. “I doubt he’ll agree to it,” he ends with a dark chuckle. “But hey, no harm in trying, right ?”

He’d wanted you to do it, only because he knew of how much pain and agony your words would induce to the King. You had doubted his words, -you always did- fully aware that if he had lied to you, you’d have made Samael suffer for nothing. And you couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to bear the thought.

So you hesitated, waited for a miracle to happen, for the sadist to admit he was fucking with you, anything so you wouldn’t have to take the risk, like the coward that you are. And of course, he noticed, relishing in your growing  paranoia and dread. God ignored your pleas once more, and you began to understand why Samael rebelled. You’ve never been a fervent believer after all.

God is not a benevolent being , merely the leading puppeteer of this world.

You gave in after seven more deaths, despair finally overtaking over fear, and went to find the King. It felt disgusting, seeing him smiling so earnestly at your mere presence when you only came to use him for your own, selfish and self-destructive wish. You felt it to your core, invading your soul, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You wish he hadn’t knelt before you with such devotion, you wish he hadn’t kissed each of your trembling fingers so tenderly, you wish he hadn’t whispered your name so fervently. The words that left your mouth on that day felt like the vilest of poisons.

“You…would do anything for me, right ?”

“Anything !” you flinched at the desperate, borderline hysterical tone of his voice. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you !”

You wondered briefly if watching you die so many times is what caused him to say those words, clinging to your body so pitifully, or if his adoration truly ran that deep from the start. You wished to never have an answer because whatever of the two it’d be, it would only make you more guilty.

“So…” your lips were dry. You felt your sins crawling on your back. “Kill me. Kill me please.”

The  gut-wrenching look of pure horror which crossed his face told you two things; it told you your executioner had not lied to you, and it told you that no matter what you did, Samael would never be able to grant you your only wish. You knew that no matter how much you tried to hurt, destroy or even hate him- something you never believed to be possible- he could never bring himself to end your suffering. And you could not blame or despise him for that, he had waited so long for you and the only thing you gave him was pain and torment.

You deserve this, you deserve this punishment.

“Are you done moping around  ?” you hear that familiar, bone-chilling voice calls for you.

You don’t even turn around to face him but knows what awaits you if you refuse to answer his question, as rhetorical as it may seem.

“I’m not mopping around,” you flatly say. “Just here to think.”

You hear him take a step closer, but don’t flinch or try to move away while he stands right behind you, and you wonder how long it’s been since you got used to this.

“Really ?” he asks a bit more cheerfully. “So, you’re not avoiding me ?”

You frown and remain silent for longer than you should as you try to find the meaning behind his words. He doesn’t seem to mind though as if he was waiting for your half-baked excuse.

“Avoid you ?” you retort back in a slightly sarcastic tone. “What are you even saying ? I know you’ll always be able to find me.”

He hums in agreement, taking no offense of the fact you still refuse to look at him, instead you think he is pleased by your admission.

“You don’t seem very happy to see me though.” He almost sounds hurt at the idea and maybe you would have bought it if it was one of your first interactions. “Did I do something to upset you sweetheart ?” The innocence in his voice is sickening.

You never bought the cute pet names or the honeyed words of concern though. You recall how you cringed the first time he used them on you, which was strange. You had never met him, and yet somehow, you’d been able to tell this behavior was not natural to him. He was attractive -at least to your standards- , his voice was rich and smooth, and his gaze had been solely focused on you; you should have enjoyed the attention from such a charming being, or at least, feel mildly flattered. But instead, your mind and body recognized the eager executioner that he was. Maybe it was because you refused to believe someone could have a genuine interest in you, or maybe it was because you’d unconsciously compared him to the King. Whatever it was, you never fell for it, and you never will.

“No,” you answer in a detached tone of voice. “I’m just staying out of your way.”

You’re not sure if he is confused, amused or irritated by your words but it feels like you’re suffocating. You’re used to the mockeries, twisted chuckles and fake flatteries but this silence, it’s not normal.

When were things ever normal here ?

You can’t help the gasp leaving your lips when you feel a hand grabing you by the hips and a cold breath tickling your neck. You easily guess the smile against your skin, and it takes everything in your power to repress yourself from kicking him in the ribs. You’re not afraid of the pain that might follow after that, but the other types of punishments he must have in mind.

“You think I don’t want to play with you anymore ?” His voice drops by a few octaves, sending vibrations across your skin. You still manage a small nod, voice stuck in your throat. “Aw…how sad. I must have done a terrible job lately, haven’t I ?”

“It’s just-“ You don’t like how your voice waver at his freezing touch. “You seem distracted and well…bored.” You hear him whisper a small oh ? against your flesh. “I thought you got tired of killing me.”

You realize how fucked up this sounds, and a sense of relief washes over you because it means you still haven’t completely lost it. But the moment is short lived when you feel him chuckle darkly, sending goosebumps along your skins. You really, really don’t like this.

“How awfully observant of you dear.” You feel his teeth graze the juncture of your neck, but you don’t move an inch, instead wondering if he intends to cut your jugular with his sharp incises. He’s never done that before, at least from what you can remember. “But don’t worry, I’m not bored of our little game…yet.”

You believe him for once, it would be rather strange for him to come here if he didn’t want to spend time with you anymore. But his voice, the way he stands so uncomfortably close, tell you he wants to change the rules and you’re almost sure he’s happy you noticed the changes. In fact, all of this might have been part of his plan, for you to notice the little hints he dropped during your last sessions and break from the usual pattern the both of you had created since the first day.

He’s always five steps ahead of everyone after all.

You let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that no matter how this conversation will end, you won’t like what will come out of it. But it’s too late to turn back now, not when he’s literally clinging to you like some damn leech.

“What do you want ?” you curtly demand.

“Ah, don’t be like that sweetheart,” he whines to you, but you can feel his smile growing wider. “I just want you to enjoy this as much as I do.”

What the fuck is he saying now ? Maybe you should just kick him after all, then jump and, if you’re lucky enough, break your neck against the cold pavement below, if not you’ll just break every bone in your body and wait until you respawn like some videogame character. It’s nothing you haven’t experienced before, though the demon freak is more into using his knife -you think it’s always the same- than his own hands on you.

“We both know you’re not getting out if this cycle, not for a very long while at least…” he trails off, as if you had somehow forgotten why you were here in the first place, as if you weren’t living with the constant reminder that you couldn’t die. Is he trying to make you cry or something ? “And well…I know you’re not getting off of the pain, you’re not that kind of freak.”

“Just get on with it, the floor below us is starting to become more interesting than you,” you grit between your teeth as you take a step towards the edge for emphasis. He lazily takes another step as well, completely unbothered by the situation. He must know you’re not joking.

“Don’t interrupt me, that’s very rude,” he scolds you, like a parent trying to reason with their unruly child -the idea both amuses and creeps you out- but you don’t miss the cold authority behind it. The warning is clear. “Like I said, you’re not getting anything out of this and I’m starting to feel like the bad guy here.”

You take another step forward and grip the stone railing as tightly as you can as a sign for him to hurry but also to keep yourself from sending your fist in his face or his stomach. Can’t he just break your neck or bleed you dry ? Starting to feel like the bad guy ? Well, he’d fit the role if this was a classic fairytale, although as sweet and devoted Samael was to you, he would not make for a very good prince charming -or a very twisted one- while you’re all too aware of how terrible of a damsel in distress you’d be. One could almost say the purple freak is the only one playing his part right.

“Don’t you think you deserve some award for going this far ?”

Your eyes narrow. Why does he speak as if you had a choice in this ? Why does he speak as though there is anything to be celebrated expect for you to have fallen as low as only finding some sense of peace in dying brutally to the hands a psychopath ? Is this what he wants to reward you for ? Does he really think you’ll agree to it ? You refuse to believe it.

“Ah you’re right, that was a poor choice of words,” he admits in a childlike voice as if he’d heard your thoughts, but it’s not the first time he'd done that. “Rather, I think you’d enjoy our playdates much more if you indulged yourself a bit…” His voice grows huskier as the hand holding your hips moves lower and lower, somewhere he’s never been. “I promise to make it feel so good you’ll forget your own name…” he whispers sensually to your ear before his tone suddenly shifts to sadistic glee. “And then…I’ll watch that beautiful blissful expression of yours turn to absolute agony !”

His revelation turns your body to stone as you attempt to process what he just suggested. This can’t be real. All of this just because he wanted to fuck you  ? No, it was not just about sex -not when he could do so much better than you-, this was about the additional control he’d have over you. He’d already gained ownership over you once he became the only one able to give you pain, and by becoming the only one able to give you pleasure, he’d have complete control of your strings.

“I’m not interested, get off of me,” you try to sound calm, much calmer than the inner chaos that your mind is right now.

“Really ?” How could a word carry so much darkness ?

Before you can react, you feel  a hand grabbing your hair in a tight grip then violently yanking  you aside, in a soundless cry till you’re forced to look at him. You close your eyes on instinct, refusing to submit to his gaze. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes but you ignore them, instead focusing on the sensation of his cold face against your own.

“I have to admit, it’s been a while since I found someone so pathetic and hopeless. Kinda reminds me of…” he ponders while you try keep your breathing steady. “Oh no I shouldn’t speak of him when he isn’t here,” he seems to mumble to himself. “But really, you have nothing to lose here, cutie,” he finishes in a sing-song voice.

“You’re only doing this to hurt the King,” you finally manage to breath in a cracked voice.

“And what of it ?” he says in a surprisingly flat tone, which causes you to stop struggling. “You’ve only hurt him since you arrived here.”

You don’t want to hear it, not from him.

“You ignored him, didn’t even try to spare his feelings or spend time with him because you were too engrossed in the only thing that mattered to you .”

How dare he lecture you about feelings ? Him, out of everyone you’ve met ?

“And when you asked him to kill you ? Oh, that was beautiful !” He laughs heartfully. “Trying to use his own words against him so shamelessly…I’ll remember this for a while haha !”

“Stop…” you whisper weakly.

“Stop fooling yourself Darling, you’ve never cared for him,” voice full of poison slipping into your already sick mind. “Maybe you actually like to see him so miserable.”

“ That’s not true !” you cry out. “I never wanted him to suffer because of me !”

But have you ever done  anything to prove it ?

“I never-“ you struggle to form a coherent sentence. “I didn’t-“

“Didn’t even give him a chance, went straight to me instead. How fucked up is that huh ?”

You’re trembling, trembling from the truth of his words, trembling from the coldness of his body, trembling from realizing you’re the villain of this story.

“After all,” he murmurs right into your soul, “monsters recognize each other, isn’t that how the saying goes ?”

He lets go of you, and you crumble. You barely register your body falling to the ground as you feel your nails dig into your skin. He sighs.

“Come on sweetheart, you know I’m the only one who can make you feel better. It’s only going to get better from now on. “We’re gonna have so much fun you and I =)”

 [ACCEPT HIS OFFER]           [RUN AWAY]           [JUMP OVER THE EDGE]

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

Okay, so there are three endings to this fic, I intend to do them all but I’m really interested in which one you’d like to read first. I’ll regulary check to see what people want during the next few days.

Pick your poison :)

[wizkiddx]

honeymoon morning

Honestly I apologise in advance bcos this is pure sickening, god awful fluff. It’s shit bit fluffy af and warmed my cold heart of stone a little ahah. Kinda imagined that its actress!reader too, but doesn’t acc have to be (oh and for the purposes of the story also married Haz off to the readers best mate). On a real, really didn’t excute the idea the way I wanted but hey-ho. T x 

Summary: the morning after the wedding and there are some beans to be spilt in between all the happiness

The best morning of her life. Y/n knew it would be just that. I mean, it already was - she woke up in the arms of the man she loved, that she could now call her husband forever and ever. Tom looked glorious; still asleep as he lay on his back, slightly tilted toward her side and his arm outstretched as if he was waiting for her to come back to bed and join him. Even unconscious, Y/n still wanted to please him in everyday possible so she did just as he wanted. Tiptoeing from the doorway on their ensuite, she pulled the cord of the white silk robe slightly tighter round her stomach. Before she lay down next to her husband, she smiled gently and pulled her still wet hair to one side, smelling like apples of the hotels free sample shampoos. As if rehearsed, as soon as she settled on the white pillows, ontop of Tom’s outstretched arm, he rolled almost ontop of her, throwing his other arm over her side and squeezed. Y/n couldn’t repress that little giggle his actions illicited, making the brunette around her groan and mumble something incoherent meanwhile pressing his head further into her hair. 

Which made him pull back and slowly blink awake with a scowl. Her hair was still wet. 

“Hi husband” She grinned, loving the way his scowl at being awoken morphed into this shit eating smile. 

“My beautiful wife huh?” Tom tucked a clump of damp hair behind her ear before letting his palm rest on her glowing cheek and just staring into her seemingly ever changing eyes. No matter how many times he looked into them, Tom always managed to see something different and exciting in them. Something else to fall deeply and helplessly in love with. 

“Yesterday was…”

“Everything.” Tom finished off for her, before pressing his lips to hers as she shifted to lean over him. 

“Uh-huh. But now it’s today. Which means… you gotta get up!” She eventually got to the point, sitting up and therefore avoiding his second attempt to meet lips, once again making him pout. 

“Is it too much to ask to just spend a day in bed with my wife?” His wife. Boy did that sound like music to her ears.

“Yes because everyone is waiting downstairs for us at breakfast!”

“They can wait there till tomorrow for all I care.” Indignantly, Tom closed his eyes pretending to go back to sleep.

“And… because I got you a marriage present.” That got his attention. Eyes flying open, as he pushed himself up so he was sitting against the headboard of the big four poster bed, Tom looked quizzically at his wife. His wife. 

Giggling at his oh-so-predictable reaction, Y/n leaned off the bed to pickup the small gift wrapped box on the floor.

“Y/n you really shouldn’t have I didn’t know we were doing this-“

“Oh shut up and open it would you?”

“Unless this is a toy for… you know, then you really should have.” Even half asleep, Tom still had something on his mind.

“Tom! Just open it before you ruin the moment anymore.” She wasn’t really mad. She was smirking and jokingly rolling her eyes at his idiocy. He was her idiot though. With a confused look, Tom followed her instructions, carefully unwrapping the silvery gift paper to reveal a navy blue velvet box. He looked up momentarily to question Y/n, who just gestured for him to open it. Going at a painfully slow speed, he lifted it up to reveal an old and tattered watch. It had a cracked glass front yet Tom could still see the ‘Rolex’ logo branded onto the face of it. 

Not going to lie - he was confused. Y/n knew he already had multiple nice watches he wore regularly. All of those were in better nick than this. 

“I umm-“

“It’s an old Rolex. I thought you could do it up like your dad did for you.” She whispered, with this massive smile just because she knew Tom still didn’t understand.

“Oh I er… I mean I could I’m not sure-“ Tom stammered, she seemed so proud of herself, yet he couldn’t really understand why and didn’t want to disappoint her. To be fair him being a bit slow wasn’t an uncommon thing, Tom would hold hid hands up and admit he wasn’t the smartest. Whereas and completely unknown to most people, Y/n was really really clever, I mean she was nearly going to be a doctor. That was one of the things Tom absolutely loved too, the way she would be able to make leaps and figure things out the average person would just stare at confused. So fair to say, she was used to explaining things to him. 

“You know your Dad gave it to his first born on their eighteenth, your eighteenth birthday. And I thought you could do with all the 18 years because I dont fancy you as a professional watch-fixer.” Tom was still absolute clueless, waiting for more of an explanation. 

“18 years?” The number seeming a bit random but oddly specific to Tom.

“Well you know… 18 years from now when your son or daughter turns into an adult. When they aren’t our little baby anymore.” She whispered, taking his hands in her and pressing it against her ever so slightly bloated stomach. 

And then finally it clicked. His eyes grew impossibly wide, pressing lightly on her silk-clad stomach as he sat forwards.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Tommy we are going to be parents!” She smiled whilst nodding, totally enamoured by the look of sheer joy on his face. 

“This isn’t a joke right?”

“No I swear to you. 12 weeks yesterday.”

“You’re serious? We’re going to be parents?” Y/n just nodded in response this time, before instantaneously Tom’s lips were on hers, pouring all the passion and love and excitement that he could on her. After a few moments they pulled away, yet keeping their faces impossibly close.

“I love you”

“I love you and… well I love them too.” Y/n was so in love with the man in front of him. He just was going to be the best Dad in the world and there was no-one she would rather start this journey with. In complete honesty, yesterday the first thing she’d wanted to do when she saw Tom standing at the altar was tell him. It had been impossible, the last weeks of keeping ‘shtum’. But she’d only found out when she noticed she was 3 weeks late on her period, by which point Tom was away filming. They’d agreed that so they both had a quality honeymoon, to finish any backlog of work before the wedding, so it was a 8 week holiday with just the two of them. It had also made the reunion that much better, having been apart for almost 2 months before the wedding. 

“You want to see them? I had the scan really early yesterday morning?” It was an unnecessary question, as soon as Y/n even mentioned it Tom bolted up like an excited puppy. With a knowing laugh, Y/n then slipped her hand under the pillow to produce the little white card and offering it to him. Tom took the card, while with his other hand pulling her flush with his chest so she was sitting half on his lap. Slowly Tom lifted the front of the card, to reveal the black ultrasound print. For all he knew that could be an ultrasound of elephant dung; but the fact that he had it on good authority it was his wife and baby, Tom swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful. Knowing he was more than hopeless at this, Y/n took him through slightly different blobs on the picture, demonstrating the head, an arm, a foot. 

“Why didn’t you tell me though? You had to do this by yourself?”

“By the time I found out myself you were already in new york and… well its not something to say over the phone is it?”

“Y/n as perfect as this is, you could’ve sent me a text for all I care. I wouldn’t have let you do this on your own! Have you been sick or-“

“Not technically on my own… don’t be mad but Y/f/n was there when I took the test, she was the one who said I should.”

“I should’ve guessed that to be fair” Tom rolled his eyes playfully, of course Y/f/n knew they were basically joint at the hip. She probably sensed it with her best friend powers.

“And yeh mornings aren’t very fun but thats supposed to ease now we’re over the first trimester.”

“I-fuck I don’t know what to say… I just love you.”

“And that is all I’ve ever wanted.” She whispered against his lips before they connected once again. It was just so full of gentle, care and love for each other. The moment was just perfect… until her phone rang. 

Y/n pulled away, receiving an almost whine from her husband, reaching to answer her phone. 

“Hey… yeh yeh I know we are on our way, just had some news to spill… I think he’s happy yeh-“ she giggled, as she watched Tom gently pull back the sides of her robe to reveal her belly. At only 12 weeks, she was barely showing at all but now Tom looked he didn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed last night. “-… I’m not sure let me check hang on” Y/n spoke into the receiver again, Tom already knew the moment it rang it would only be Y/f/n. Only she would have the audacity to interrupt the couple the morning after their wedding. 

“Tom so… I kind of made arrangements just incase, because this is a pretty good time just because everyones here. But I figured you might want to keep it a secret for a bit when its just us that know?” He looked toward the window, apparently deep in thought, before turning back to her. 

“I’m spoiler king right? Might be safest to tell them before I explode.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeh course, you know I can’t keep a secret, one look at Haz and he’ll know something is up”

“Actually he might already know too-“

“WHAT”

[robininthelabyrinth]

For the prompts! Wen Qing/Jiang Cheng, accidental marriage that still has to be honoured for political reasons.

Wen Qing was a proud woman, talented and arrogant in it – but all of her medical skills didn’t help defend her when she refused to raise a sword in the Wen sect’s war of aggression. She’d been offered a post as the head of a supervisory office, with assurances that she could offer her medical services to prisoners of war as well as Wen cultivators, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize that her prisoners of war were being sent to the Fire Palace and then back to her, her medical assistance being used to prolong their pain rather than end it.

She “carelessly” permitted a break-out of the most grievously wounded and, out of shame for having failed, resigned her post. Instead, she went to join battlefields, offering what care she could to whoever she saw on the basis that she couldn’t be sure if those cultivators in different colors weren’t secretly Wen spies.

It was not a position that made her very popular.

She was still surnamed Wen and Wen Ruohan had once prized her talents in peacetime; no matter how much disgrace she was in, it wasn’t enough to lead to her immediate execution, or that of her loyal subordinates. She was safe enough from that, and from the base physical abuse that other women in the Wen battle camps faced –

But not safe from everything.

The attack on the Jiang sect had been brutal; she hadn’t known about it in advance and had rushed over as soon as she could to preserve what lives she could, even though Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao laughed at her frenzy as pointless – the order had been to wipe them out.

She smiled in the face of their mockery and sent her subordinates to help “clean up” instead, smuggling as many of those still living as she could out of the Lotus Pier in boats filled with corpses. Wen Ning was especially good at it, since Wen Chao seemed incapable of remembering either his name or his face for more than a handful of moments at any given time, and seemed to generally assume that someone had given him proper orders to do…something.

It only worked in the spaces where no one was paying attention, though. There wasn’t anything she could do when the guards brought back Jiang Cheng to be the star entertainment in Wen Chao’s celebration of his victory. She couldn’t save him.

She couldn’t even save herself.

“Qing-jie,” Wen Chao called, laughing; Wang Lingjiao at his side was positively cackling, tears in her eyes. “We found you a husband to match you, Qing-jie – look at him, a perfect fit for you: beautiful and useless! Say ‘thank you, Wen-gongzi’.”

Jiang Cheng might be beautiful, underneath the tears and the blood that covered him, the ruin of his chest and back, the bruises that stained his flesh, but his eyes were empty and dull – as dead as the golden core inside of him that was no more. That wasn’t something her medicine could fix, even if Wen Chao would be inclined to let her try.

“Thank you, Wen-gongzi,” Wen Qing said politely. “Do you want me to take him out of your sight?”

That would have been too easy.

Her subordinates had all been sent away; she was alone, outnumbered and helpless, and with Wen Zhuliu standing close by, his eyes a little too intense as he stared at her, she didn’t dare protest – not even when they wrapped her in a banner of red silk and had Wang Lingjiao stick pins in her hair, a mockery of a bride’s wear, or when they made her kneel down in front of them and bow three times: to the Jiang ancestral shrine and to Wen Chao as representative of her ancestors, to the heavens and to the earth, to Jiang Cheng…

He was barely conscious for the process, which wasn’t a surprise – the discipline whip was not a toy to be played with lightly – but he was aware enough to flinch away from her when they were thrown into a room together, a cheap storage room with nothing but a bed inside, the door locked behind them.

“I’m not going to touch you,” she said to him. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do that.”

He looked at her dully. “Do you have a choice? They’ll check.”

It was Wen Qing’s turn to flinch. It would be just like Wang Lingjiao’s vile bitterness – this entire thing stunk of her plotting – to get some grannies to come in later to confirm that Wen Qing had, in fact, lost her purity. That was the goal of this, surely, in addition to humiliating her for having been better liked by Wen Ruohan than the useless Wen Chao had ever been, son or not – after something like this, she would never be able to marry anyone else.

Her husband would be beautiful, but useless, and he’d hate her for doing this to him in the bargain.

She closed her eyes and felt the tears drip down her face. “I’ve been helping people escape, where I can. There’s not much I can do, just little things, but – some people have lived that would have otherwise died. That’s worth something, isn’t it..?”

She shook her head when she realized she was trying to talk him into agreeing to it. She wanted to live, yes, but…at this cost?

“I won’t –”

“Just do it,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m useless now. If you can help even a few people live…that’s more than I can do.”

He was as much of a virgin as she was, and they fumbled together through it, neither of their bodies cooperating to make the process easier – he was in pain and in mourning, she was revolted by the idea of the rape she was committing, but in the end they managed it.

Wang Lingjiao came the next morning with the grannies, triumphant smile on her face, and of course she laughed at Wen Qing, pretending as if it had all been a joke that Wen Qing had taken far too seriously – but now that she’d gone ahead and lost her purity, well, what could be done..?

“Is there anything else you want?” Wen Qing asked coolly, not letting the vile things pouring out of Wang Lingjiao’s mouth touch her. When it came to questions of purity, at least she had bowed to the heavens and earth before touching her husband – Wang Lingjiao couldn’t even say that much.

Perhaps Wang Lingjiao sensed her barely-hidden disdain, and realized the cause for it, because she bristled and ordered Wen Qing to accompany her for the day, treating her like a maid in the guise of giving her ‘marital advice’ – and in the end the only good thing that came out of it was that Wen Qing had a very good alibi when her husband mysteriously disappeared.

Wang Lingjiao slapped her a few times on the basis that she must have forgotten to lock the door, but even hypocrites like them couldn’t concoct any way for this to actually be Wen Qing’s fault.

She went back to her room later that evening, and found her brother had come back at some point.

“Did you..?” she started, then stopped, because of course he had. Her little brother was good at saving people. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, averting his eyes. “Jiejie, they said –”

“A joke,” she said firmly, rolling her eyes. “You know Wen Chao’s sense of humor. So I did a bit of bowing, so what? It’s not like it counts if you don’t mean it.”

Wen Ning looked relieved, then glanced from side to side, his shoulders hunching. “Jiejie…do you think you can come away with me for a little while?”

“Where to?”

“Back to Yiling,” he said. “There’s a patient there that could use your help.”

Wen Qing repressed a sigh at how obvious her little brother was – he wasn’t born to be a spy. But she found a reason to make some excuses (Wang Lingjiao was pouting over her plan not being funny anymore, and convinced everyone to agree as long as it meant Wen Qing would leave) and she went to Yiling, where Wei Wuxian waited.

Where he asked her to –

Well, at least her husband wouldn’t be useless anymore, she argued to herself, and pretended that what she was doing wasn’t every bit as much a violation as what she had done to him in that spare room.

He probably wouldn’t forgive her, if he knew – but he wouldn’t know.

He would go his way, she would go hers, and they wouldn’t meet again.

She thought that way for a long time.

Long enough to run to Wei Wuxian, who owed her a favor, to rescue her brother – long enough to follow him back to the Burial Mounds – long enough to expect a siege.

She hid behind a tree when she saw the flash of purple that was Jiang Cheng walking up the mountain.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said in greeting – he looked calm, but she could tell he was nervous. “You’re here about the Wen remnants, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked irritated. “I’m here to bring you back to Yunmeng.”

“I’m not going –”

“Without them, yes, I figured,” Jiang Cheng snapped. “The entire cultivation world knows that by now, I think. I told them you were acting under my orders.”

Wei Wuxian’s jaw dropped. “You did what?! Jiang Cheng! The whole point of doing it without telling you was so that you could avoid being blamed for it!”

“Maybe you should have told me what you were planning first,” Jiang Cheng said snidely. “Then we could have coordinated better. Are you going to get moving or not?”

“Wen Ning can’t be moved yet,” Wei Wuxian said automatically, then frowned. “You really told everyone that you permitted my actions? What – is the Jin sect upset?”

Jiang Cheng just gave him a look.

“Of course they’re upset,” Wei Wuxian answered his own question. “But…you’re here, and you want to bring everyone back to the Lotus Pier. You – convinced Jin Guangshan to drop his claim?”

Jiang Cheng nodded.

“How?”

“I told him that we discovered that he’d accidentally kidnapped my wife,” Jiang Cheng said.

Wen Qing covered her face with her hands, stifling a yell in her throat. He couldn’t be serious!

“Your – wife?” Wei Wuxian said blankly. “You…married?”

Nothing they’d encountered so far had stumped him – not her request, not the Jin sect, not the Burial Mounds – but apparently the thought of Jiang Cheng having tied the knot was all it took to break him.

“To who?!”

“Wen Qing,” Jiang Cheng said. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

Wen Qing made a face, gathered her courage, and walked out from behind the tree.

“Sandu Shengshou,” she said politely. He nodded back at her in a way that would be all regal and dignified except for the way his cheeks flushed pink at the sight of her.

Which was better than she expected, honestly – she wouldn’t have held it against him to pull out his sword and stab her.

“…Jiang Cheng, you can’t do that,” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “You can’t just say you’re married to someone! Wen Qing has a reputation to think about, what if she wants to get married someday –”

“She’s already married,” Jiang Cheng said flatly. “To me.”

“Jiang Cheng!”

“You don’t have to honor it,” Wen Qing said before Wei Wuxian could say too much. “It was under duress; no one would hold you to it.”

“I hold myself to it,” Jiang Cheng said, crossing his arms in what was probably meant to be impressive but came off as defensive. “We bowed to the heavens and earth together. I’m not going to – it counts. At least to me, it counts.”

He hesitated, even as Wei Wuxian’s head swiveled between the two of them faster than an open window in a thunderstorm, his mouth gaping open like a fish.

“I mean – I’m not going to demand anything from you,” Jiang Cheng continued, ducking his head. “Just, you know, politically, I thought – if you wanted –”

Wen Qing can’t quite keep herself from smiling. Her husband was even more charming when he was being extremely awkward and ill-footed than he was when he was being impressive.

“I’d be happy to go back to Yunmeng with you,” she said, and he smiled – he was rather attractive when he smiled, actually. Wen Chao hadn’t been wrong when he’d called him beautiful. “But only after Wei-gongzi finishes with my brother.”

“What is he doing with your brother?” Jiang Cheng asked.

There was a little bit of a fuss after that, what with Wen Ning taking that moment to wake up as a fierce corpse and just barely recover his consciousness – Wen Qing secretly suspected he’d waited for the most dramatic moment to do so, and if this one hadn’t been dramatic enough, he would’ve waited longer – but in the end it all worked out.

The Lotus Pier was a much better place to rest than the Burial Mound, no matter what Wei Wuxian’s grandiose plans for a home there had been; Jiang Cheng arranged for rooms for all of them near the main family home and told his disciples to keep an eye out for anyone who even thought to make trouble.

Wen Ning was shown to a room not far from Wei Wuxian’s.

Wen Qing –

Jiang Cheng stared at the hallway in front of him, body stiff and cheeks bright red. “My sister’s room is on the right,” he said. “She’s currently staying at Koi Tower, and I don’t believe she’s coming back – an engagement is in the works between her and the Jin sect heir, and anyway even if she was, she wouldn’t mind you taking it for a while.”

“Mm,” Wen Qing said. “And which one’s yours?”

Jiang Cheng was adorable when he started stuttering about how he really wasn’t going to pressure her into –

“I meant to sleep,” she clarified and poked him. “Besides, given what happened between us, I would understand entirely if you’re not attracted to me –”

“You’re extremely pretty and I like you a lot but I don’t know how to deal with that!” he yowled.

“We can date,” Wen Qing decided, not even pretending not to smile. “Take it slow – get to know each other.”

That plan lasted exactly one shichen.

(Wen Qing wasn’t sure how they’d started kissing, but Jiang Cheng had valiantly asked her if she was sure when about half their clothing was off, which was very noble of him but also extremely getting in the way of what she currently wanted, so she’d justified it with a half-assed excuse about needing to make sure they’d be compatible as marriage partners and he’d found the argument convincing. To no one’s surprise, sex was much better without the duress and one party being half-dead from torture.)

Afterwards, though, when he was running his fingers through her hair, she felt the slight stirring of her conscience. If they were going to be married – originally forced and politically convenient as the marriage might be – was it really acceptable to go into it with lies?

“…I know why Wei Wuxian didn’t tell you about coming to help me,” she said, and Jiang Cheng’s fingers stopped. “And about why he hasn’t been helping you here. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and tell him he needs to tell you about it. You should know in advance that you’re probably going to be very angry when you hear it.”

“I’m just happy to know that there is a secret reason,” Jiang Cheng confessed, his voice low. “I thought – never mind.”

Wen Qing didn’t need to know all of Jiang Cheng’s history to know what it probably was: he’d thought the problem was with him; that somehow, through some failing, he’d driven Wei Wuxian away.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” she said. “He’ll tell you, or I will. We’ll all have a great big fight about it and then we can decide what we’re going to do next.”

“I like how practical you are,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Wen Qing squinted at him. “You barely know anything about me. How can you have a favorite?”

“I know lots of things. I like the way you pretend that you don’t want to strangle people when you think they’re being stupid –”

“You’re not allowed to like that!”

Maybe this marriage had a chance of working out after all.

[pannabethjesus]

A Small Gift: A Jercy Fanfic

Jason tapped his foot nervously, as he stood outside the café. His date was supposed to arrive in ten minutes, and it was all he could do to not glance at his reflection in the glass every ten seconds to fix his hair.

He thought back to an hour ago, when Piper, his best friend, had been fussing over his clothes.

"No, Jason," she'd said, "You can't wear a white jacket on a lunch date. You'll look like a pimp." And with those words, his jacket had been tossed away, and replaced with a baby blue blazer, which went well with his soft pink shirt and black jeans. He had to admit, he did look handsome, and the copious amounts of gel Piper had used to set his hair seemed to be working well, despite his aversion to hair products.

He glanced at his watch, and let his eyes wander over the sidewalk. Where is he? The sun was getting lower, and he was beginning to feel like an idiot but then his eyes met a pair of stunning sea green ones.

Percy Jackson had finally arrived.

Jason felt his chest tighten and loosen, as he struggled to breath. His heart was beating dangerously fast and he could feel the back of his neck break into a cold sweat.

He's here, he's here, he's here- his heart was beating with that rhythm.

Percy was looking amazing in a deep green jacket and a grey shirt, paired with normal blue jeans. His eyes seemed to glow. Jason noticed that he was holding a small bouquet of yellow poppies and his mussed hair and cheeky grin, as he walked over, made his heart skip several beats.

Dammit, I should have gotten something.

Mentally slapping himself, he turned his attention to his date. He took a deep breath and gave Percy a big smile, one he had been holding in since he spotted him. Praying to whatever god was listening, he hoped he didn't look like a fool.

Percy's cologne hit him first and then he registered the dark haired boy grinning in front of him. He must have been nervous too, Jason noticed, because his knuckles were almost white with how tightly he seemed to be holding the poppies.

"Hey, you ma-" Jason began and before he could say anything else, Percy thrust the bouquet into his hands, his face flushing.

"These are for you!" He said, his voice an octave higher than normal. Gone was the look of the cheekiness, replaced by utter shyness. Jason couldn't help his smile at this sudden transformation.

Or maybe you never noticed this side of him before.

'I'll be able to experience more of it, if things go well today. ' He thought.

"I- thank you. These are beautiful." He answered and Percy's face lit up again.

"Really? That's great, my mom picked the-" He stopped immediately, the rose coloured blush making it's way back on his face and Jason had to bite his lip to stop grinning uncontrollably.

"Never mind that. I hope you didn't wait too long." Percy said and Jason shook his head. "Not at all. You're right on time."

He extended the arm that wasn't holding the flowers out to Percy. "Shall we?" He asked.

"Oh yes, absolutely." Percy answered and linked his arm with Jason's, eyes glinting all the way through, as both of them walked inside the café wordlessly.

It was a cozy place, nothing too flashy or gaudy. The interior had pastel coloured walls filled with canvases of paintings in different media, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted temptingly about.

Although it was late afternoon, the darker bits of the café were illuminated by a soft golden light that made Jason's hair glow. Percy caught himself staring at his date several times in the few minutes it took for Jason to find both of them a table.

It was located right next to the large glass windows, from which the street was visible, but also was towards the back, so the chatter of the rest of the crowd wasn't very audible.

Percy took a step forward to pull a chair for Jason, at the exact same moment that Jason did the same for him and they both stood there, watching each other for a few seconds with their hands on the chairs, before laughing.

"Why don't we-" Jason began and Percy nodded. "Yeah, that works." He answered and they both sat down at their respective places, across the small wooden table. He watched as Jason fiddled with the bouquet before realising that he didn't have something to keep the flowers.

"Excuse me, miss!" Percy called out and Jason shot him a confused look.

"Have you already decided your order?" he asked and Percy felt his face warm up.

"No, I was hoping to ask them to get you a vase to keep the flowers in." He said and it was Jason's turn to blush.

"Oh." was all he said before turning his attention to the flowers.

The waitress who came over managed to get them an old jug for the bouquet and Percy watched as Jason placed the flowers meticulously, careful to not let break or bend. The blond's hands moved skillfully and deftly, and Percy marvelled quietly at how good he was.

"Your hands are really good at that."

He blurted out and the full weight of what he said hit him a second later. Jason paused and looked up at him, his icy blue eyes wide and his cheeks flushed.

Jackson??? What the hell???? His brain screamed at him, but he managed to keep his composure.

"Um. That came out wrong." He added and Jason chuckled.

"Thank you, Percy." He said turning his attention to him.

"So.." He began and Percy relaxed. He's just as nervous as I am. But his fingers did a little tippy-tappy dance on the table.

"So..." He responded, staring into Jason's eyes. "This is nice."

Jason tilted his head, a small smile gracing his face. " Yeah. It really is." He paused, considering his next words. Percy's eyes were really distracting and the way he was staring- it was unhelpful for his train of thought to say the least. He shook his head slightly and focused on the table in front of him.

"So, Piper.." Jason began, looking at Percy but avoiding his eyes. "You guys know each other?" He asked. Percy smiled and nodded, seeming absolutely at ease with himself, unlike Jason who was feeling like a dork each passing second- and not in the good way.

"Piper and I met in the college art club in our first week there. I've been into abstract art since I was a kid, so.." Percy trailed off, his smile unwavering.

Jason recalled Piper telling him that. She'd shown him some of his artwork and it was mesmerising.

"I saw some of your work in the exhibition. Percy, it was amazing. You're such a great artist. Have you considered going professional?" Jason asked excitedly. Percy blushed profusely, the smile on his face suddenly falling away and giving way to an expression of an artist not accustomed to praise, which was surprising since he was one of the best.

Percy looked at him with a sincere expression. "Thanks Jason, it means a lot. I considered going pro, but my major is oceanology, so that's what I'm inclined to do." His voice sounded empty as if a little of his cheerfulness had drained out of it. Jason cursed at himself mentally. He'd touched a sensitive topic.

"Oh." He responded, unable to find the words to say. How could he comfort him? It wasn't his place to say. He opted for the softer way out of this.

"Well, Percy, I'm sure whatever it is you decide to do, I'm sure you'll be great at it. Life looks out for people like you, you know?" At that Percy grinned. "You are quite the philosopher, Jason." He rolled his eyes in faux annoyance, feeling nothing of it.

"I'm flattered." He smiled, and then passed a menu to Percy. "I'm also hungry. And I'm guessing so are you."

Percy gratefully took the menu and smiled at him.

"What's your favourite here?" Percy asked and Jason grinned. "Have you had the chicken Alfredo pasta? It is to die for." Percy put down the menu and looked at Jason, his eyes sparkling and his face shining as if withholding a secret.

"What?" Jason inquired, fiddling with his menu, as Percy's eyes bore into him, sending electricity down his spine.

"What are the odds?" Percy wondered out loud. "What are odds," he repeated, "that my date and I would have the same favourite food, especially on our first date?" Jason's heart thumped loudly.

"No way." He said quietly, failing to repress a giggle.

"I think I'm in love with you already."

He blurted out and Percy laughed.

"I can't blame you, Grace, I'd fall in love with someone who was a fan of chicken pasta too."

And with that, he winked at Jason, who suddenly felt like the air was being ripped from his lungs and in the best way possible.

They ordered the food, talking back and forth about college, about everything and about nothing at all. The hours slipped away, the sun went lower and lower and gave way to shimmering moonlight. And they kept talking.

When it was finally time to leave, Percy and Jason walked out the door, the former shivering because of the cold. Jason instinctively put his arm around him, and Percy blushed.

"Oh-" He began, but Jason pulled his arm back.

"I'm so sorry, oh god, I didn't mean to." He sputtered out, his face warming up uncomfortably. Even in the dark, Percy's eyes still unravelled something inside of him and he had to make an effort to keep himself pulled together.

But Percy just silently took his arm and wrapped it around his waist, holding it there.

"Thank you for the warmth." He said and Jason relaxed.

They walked to the university dorms, and in the midst of a comfortable silence, their hands touched and wordlessly, intertwined. The flowers Percy had given were awkwardly tucked under Jason's arm but they were there. There was no further awkwardness, nothing that felt wrong.

Percy's heart felt light, as if a burden had been lifted off of him. He felt at home with Jason. Those five hours with him gave Percy more happiness than he'd felt in a long time in his life.

He had been meaning to ask out Jason for a long, long time and when Piper told him that it was his birthday, he knew it was the time. So three days before Jason turned nineteen, Percy asked him out on the date. Jason didn't know that Percy knew, and the small box that Percy carried in his jacket pocket felt heavier as both of them approached closer to Jason's dorm room.

As they reached, Jason stopped in front of the door and took out his keys with one hand. The other one still held fast onto Percy's. He turned to face the brunet and in the dim golden light of the hallway, he could he the pink tip of Percy's nose. He really liked it.

"So, this is my stop." Jason said and Percy nodded.

"Yep."

"So, is Piper there?" He asked, trying to make conversation but Jason shook his head. "I don't think so, she might be with a classmate of ours. Annabeth? I don't know if you know her."

Percy shook his head. "Never heard of her."

"Oh, cool."

"Yeah."

Jason started to turn to face the door again but couldn't. Percy was watching him quietly and he didn't want to leave yet. They stared at each other, not wanting to leave, but having no idea what to tell the other. Then Jason steeled his nerves. He had been too much of a mess this evening.

"Percy, thank you for tonight. I loved it. And thank you for the flowers. I had a really great time."

Percy smiled brightly, his heart beating faster.

"Of course, Jason. I really enjoyed with you too, and I wish we had more time together but..." He trailed off. But Jason knew.

Life was hectic, university was stressful. But here they were, in their own moment of peace. That's what mattered right now.

Percy looked at Jason. He was beautiful. There was no other way to describe him. His icy blue eyes made his heart stop. And the tiny scar on his upper lip which almost vanished when he smiled made Percy want to kiss him and know how that scar felt. He was very much aware of how close they were and how his hand was held in Jason's. The scar on his lip was mere inches away, a tiny little shard of lightning.

Lightning! He thought and did a mental pat down to check if the box was still there. Sighing slowly, he let go of Jason's hand and pulled the tiny turquoise box out.

"I, um, got this for you.." He began and Jason gave him a surprised look.

"You didn't have to." He said but Percy shook his head.

"No, I did. Piper told me you liked charms so, here's one from me."

He said and lifted the lid.

Jason gasped when he saw what was in the box. It was a tiny, silver charm in the shape of a lightning bolt. Don't cry, Jason. Don't freaking cry. Do not. Nope.

He took the box quietly and turned the charm in his hand.

"This- Percy, I don't know what to say. This is beautiful..." He said and Percy bit his lip. "I'm glad you like it." He answered softly.

Jason looked up from the charm at Percy. His face was flushed.

Then he looked straight into his soul-melting green eyes, not caring how his heart suddenly was sprinting at twenty miles an hour and how his own face was probably redder than a strawberry.

"You're full of surprises." He half-whispered. To his surprise, Percy smirked and raised his eyebrow, leaning in closer. He whispered back.

"Do you have the heart for one more?"

Jason could have sworn he stopped breathing but he managed to answer any way.

"What do you have in mind?"

And that was it.

The wall came crashing down between them as they closed the distance between themselves. Percy finally knew what the scar felt like against his lips and it was nothing less than magical. The world was a blur, everything melted away and all that was important was that he was here, and Jason was here.

The kiss lasted mere seconds but Jason felt like an eternity had passed. When Percy pulled away, he struggled to breathe. He gasped and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Percy didn't seem to be doing much better.

"I've been waiting a long time to do that." He said and those words made something bloom inside Jason's chest.

He somehow found the words to speak.

"Trust me, so have I."

Percy started laughing. And before he knew it, Jason was laughing too. Both of them were laughing quietly, marvelling at what had just happened and how there was nothing but pure joy behind it.

But once they stopped, Percy looked at him, his date, the golden haired boy, who had stolen his heart since the first time he had seen him. He knew it was getting late. "I'll see you around?" He asked hopefully and Jason nodded. "Absolutely. I'll see you tomorrow." He said and Percy's heart did a backflip. Tomorrow. Another day with him.

But for now, tonight was enough. Tomorrow would be dealt with when it came. Percy reached over and kissed Jason's cheek, who was still flushed from their kiss.

"Happy birthday, Jason." He said and turned around to go to his own dorm room, leaving behind a very perplexed and flustered blond.

***

"You're back! Did you guys kiss? Did he dance? Where did you eat? How was it?" Piper shot questions at Jason as soon as he entered his room.

His head was still spinning from all the amazing things that happened within a few hours.

"Weren't you supposed to be with Annabeth?" He asked, taking his jacket off, the charm still tucked inside his fist.

She waved him off and jumped up from the sofa. "Nah, I came back early."

"Oh." He said and collapsed onto the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.

Piper gazed at him. He looked like he was glowing and her heart softened. She sat back down next to him, and patted his leg. "So.." She began softly. "I take it, it went well?" She asked and Jason sighed happily. "It was more than well." He said and sat up, looking at her. She raised an eyebrow.

"You got something to say, Sparky?"

Jason's eyes glinted and he grinned.

"Oh, I have a lot to tell you."

...

Fin.

[tink27]

What if John and Sherlock met as kids? (short fluff)

No one in the Holmes household noticed when the young Sherlock Holmes went missing out the back gate, clutching nothing but a cleaned out empty jam jar in his hands, which were not yet big enough to fit all the way around.  

His excellent plan (if he did say so himself) was to collect samples of local bugs and to examine the rate at which they would decompose. His new nanny (vegetarian, going off the hemp tote bag, and the small scrunched up expression she pulls as she makes his ham sandwiches) seemed completely opposed to the idea, so sneaking off was necessary.  

Thankfully, there was plenty of data to find, with his house located on the edge of town with plenty of woodland area a short walk away (even when walking with child-sized legs). Speed however was imperative, he had approximately 25 minutes before the nanny realised it was not sherlock ‘playing’ with his microscope that she could see, peering into his room. But rather a stack of pillows wearing a jacket and a curly black costume wig, with a tape looping his voice including all of his latest deductions, of which he had recorded the day before.  

When you are 9, any plan that takes more than one day of planning feels astronomically important, even for the mature William Sherlock Scott Holmes, and succeeding was paramount. Because of this, Sherlock was running fast as he could, nothing on his mind but finding soil damp enough for worms, and rocks large enough to cover up significant family of woodlice. Therefore, he wasn’t able to notice the tangle of his undone shoe laces, making the little boy fall rather quickly, not even able to catch himself as both small hands were occupied with the all-important jar for his specimens.

Now, those who knew Sherlock Holmes rarely saw the little boy cry, even at age 9 he had decided it was weak and unbecoming (subconsciously copying his stiff and repressed older brother), so he was immensely grateful that no one was there to see the large tears that forced themselves from his eyes, stinging the rather large graze he has gotten across his cheek.  

“Hello”  

The soft voice startled the tearful boy, and for a moment all he could do was stare. There in front of him stood a boy, maybe slightly older than himself dressed in jeans, a muddy blue and white rugby top and dirty shoes that were once white and pink, with black marker smudged over the pink in an attempt to cover it, if sherlock was not so destressed he would have deduced that he was a poor boy, wearing his older sister's hand-me-downs, and is embarrassed about it.  

As Sherlock stared the boy got closer, choosing to sit with his legs crossed in front of him, pulling a crumpled packet of tissues out of his pocket, holding one out to Sherlock. This interaction snapped the crying boy out of his shock and he clambered to his feet, adamantly rubbing his tears away on his t shirt, feeling quite angry that this boy had walked in on his moment of weakness.  

The boy did not appear to be judging Sherlock though, he was not laughing at him or smirking. Still, he had little trust for people his age, and did not like to risk being made a fool. So, he held his head high and walked past the boy, aware of the time he lost to his fall and the questions he would need to answer upon returning home.  

“Wait!” the boy said, shocked at the cold reaction, and yet not deterred. No boy his age had ever acted like this boy, and the small John Watson knew he had to be his friend. Using all of his 10 years of knowledge in making friends, he decided the best course of action was to introduce himself.

“My name is John” he declared, walking quickly to fall into step with the dark-haired boy, and upon realised he was not getting an answer asked “what's your name?”

Now, weather John knew this or not he had just introduced Sherlock with a difficult question. At their age, insults were uncreative and simple, and yet one thing kids their age seemed to know was that Sherlock’s name was ‘weird’. He was therefore expecting the same reaction from this normal looking boy, and steeled himself as he plainly said “Sherlock Holmes”  

Sherlock had avoided eye contact as he declared his name, but if he had been looking at John he would have seen the amazement on his face “Wow!” he exclaimed, grinning “you sound like you’re from a book!”

This was.... new for Sherlock, something almost like a compliment, before he could figure out how to respond, John took his silence as a sign to carry on.

“really, you should take the tissue, if you let that cut get dirty you could get an infection, your face would swell up and get all gross” he sounded perversely pleased as he said this, the same way many little boys did when mentioning something ‘icky’.  

Sherlock was not one of those little boys and at the implication that his face could “get all gross” was not fun, and he promptly snatched the tissue that was still in johns fist and rubbed at the graze on his cheek.  

“no! Not like that!” john said, sounding rather alarmed as he stole the tissue back and to sherlocks horror spat on it, rubbing it onto sherlocks face to get rid of the grime. John did not see an issue with this, he saw plenty of mothers outside the school gates licking at their thumbs to rub dirt from their children's cheeks, this was no different, and it couldn’t be dirty if mums did it.  

“what on earth do you think you're doing?” Sherlock asked with horror at having a stranger's saliva on his face

“cleaning your cut, now stay still and stop talking like the queen” John said, with no malice, he had simply never heard anyone in real life talk the way Sherlock did, especially kids, and the queen was the poshest person he could think of.  

Sherlock wanted to reply, but as John wiped his face with one hand and held his chin still with the other, he felt oddly little need to protest. He felt... cared for.  

As John pulled away he smiled a big toothy grin at Sherlock, showing off a missing front tooth

“all better” he declared affectionately, stepping back “why were you running so fast with a jam jar anyways?”

Sherlock suddenly remembered his all-important task, and took off with a surprisingly serious expression for someone so young “I am looking for bugs, I want to keep them and then observe the rate at which they decompose”

Sherlock though this was bound to disgust his new companion, but was pleasantly surprised when the golden boy grinned and asked “can I help?”

[16woodsequ]

Can you tell us headcannons/scenes from fic ideas you have had but have gave up on?

I do have a few ideas for fics that I either thought about writing but changed my mind, or have, but didn’t ever really plan on writing. This is mostly because the ideas are very angsty and while I like thinking about them, I think they might be super depressing to write.

Hallucinations

One idea I like playing around with is the idea that Steve started to hallucinate Bucky after he came out of the ice. I probably won’t write this fic, because I am not sure if visual hallucinations commonly work by having just one person following someone around and talking to them. I don’t know enough about having hallucinations to feel comfortable using it as a means of telling a story.

But anyway, if you remember my rant about the cabin SHIELD sends Steve to, I imagine that he started hallucinating Bucky either during or after that. Of course, he wouldn’t tell anyone about it because he would be worried about getting labelled as crazy and sent back to somewhere like the cabin or worse.

I think the hallucination of Bucky would be a personification of Steve’s own thoughts and feelings, so at times Bucky would be comforting and friendly. But other times he could be cruel and blame Steve for letting him die (because Steve blames himself,) or point out all his flaws.

Since I headcanon that Steve knows about the bugs in his apartment, he wouldn’t be able to risk talking to Bucky except when alone outside, or in the bathroom. (Which Bucky would take full advantage off.)

I don’t think he would hallucinate Bucky constantly, but Bucky would show up regularly. I think the first time Bucky showed up, Steve was doing something like cooking, and he hears Bucky’s voice saying ‘I’d like some of that’, and he responds without thinking—before his whole body freezes and he realises what has just happened.

Steve knows that hallucinations are not normal, and that he isn’t okay. But he doesn’t want to tell anyone, and part of him guiltily doesn’t want the hallucinations to stop (something that Bucky calls him out on sometimes, because again, he is basically Steve’s own thoughts, which would be hard to deal with sometimes.)

Bucky doesn’t show up while Steve is on missions, which is important because otherwise Steve would definitely be a liability. Also, it is important, because eventually Steve is going to be fighting the Winter Soldier, and the mask is going to come off, and Steve is going to get a shock of a lifetime.

I imagine that after Hill brings Steve and the others to see Fury, Steve locks himself in the bathroom for a while and rants with hallucination-Bucky, trying to figure out if what he saw was actually real. Since Steve has been hallucinating Bucky for a while, he isn’t sure if he can trust his senses. But he argues that he has never seen Bucky during a fight like that, and why would he hallucinate Bucky’s face on someone like that? He has always seen Bucky as his 40s-self, so why would he see someone with long hair and a metal arm?

(Bucky argues that Steve hasn’t eaten or slept properly for several days, and could just be crazier than usual, and if he is wrong, he could be putting everyone in danger. And, isn’t the fact that he is busy talking to himself in the bathroom alone, a sign that he isn’t really stable? The man didn’t even know who Bucky was, how can Steve claim that he is Bucky?)

In the end, Steve decides that he can’t risk not believing that the Winter Soldier is Bucky, and he decides to treat him like it is Bucky, until he is proven otherwise.

I’m not sure if the hallucinations would stop after Steve finds Bucky, and Steve may or may not finally tell Sam about his hallucinations while they are searching for Bucky.

Some more angsty stories I probably won’t write have to do with self-harm and suicidal tendencies/attempts by Steve, so I’ll put that under the cut line.

Suicidal tendencies

I do have a general headcanon that Steve was suicidal back in the 30s-40s. I imagine it was soon after his Ma died. Steve would have grown up being told he was a burden from one source or another, and he probably felt guilty that he wasn’t able to get his mother more care during her illness.

I can see him getting very depressed and listless after her death, especially if he is in-between jobs, and can’t seem to get another one. I headcanon he lived with Bucky, and Bucky would be working to try to pay the rent, and Steve would start to think it would just be better if he weren’t there taken up money and resources.

I think it would take some time before Steve actually decides that he should kill himself, but the idea would slowly grow more and more intrusive. Eventually he would convince himself that everybody would be better off if he were dead. (Especially since, with his illnesses, he has probably been told he is going to die young anyways. Might as well get is over with.)

For this, I headcanon that he planned to jump off the Brooklyn bridge. I’ve looked at pictures, and heard stories, so I think it is possible for him to do that. On the day that he planned it, he waited for Bucky to go to work, and then he put away all his things in the apartment, and wrote a note for Bucky to leave on the table. In the note, he mentions where his body will probably be found.

He goes out, and first stops by Mrs. Barnes to say goodbye to her (although she doesn’t know that.) It starts raining as he begins walking down to the Brooklyn bridge. I don’t know how far it would be from where he lived, but he wouldn’t really be concerned about the distance.

Meanwhile, Bucky happens to come home early. At first he is confused by Steve not being home, but then he sees the note on the table, and reads it with growing horror. Since Steve mentioned where he was going, Bucky dashes out of the house, hoping against hope that he isn’t too late.

It is pouring rain by now, and there is almost nobody on the bridge because of the weather. Steve is right by the railing when Bucky gets there, and he’s kind of out of it since he isn’t in a good place right now. Bucky ends up tackling him and Steve is shocked to see him.

Bucky is, of course, terrified and angry, and he yells at Steve because he is so scared. Steve just breaks down and they eventually make it home. I don’t think suicide was really talked about a lot back then, so neither of them would really know what to do, and it would probably sit between them like an elephant in the room for a while.

Eventually the tension would snap and Steve would probably yell about why he is better off dead, and Bucky would yell back how wrong he is about that. I can imagine Steve saying something like “You know I’ll be dead by thirty anyways. You know what the doctor says.”

And then Bucky grabs his shoulders desperately and just goes. “No! No. They keep sayin’ that, and you always prove them wrong. Who cares what they say? You gotta prove ‘em wrong. You’re going to live till your one hundred, ya hear? Promise me.”

And then Steve would stare wide-eyed at him, and stutter out a promise.

Steve wouldn’t try to kill himself again in the 40s, but that promise would become important after he wakes up from the ice.

When Steve wakes up in the ice, I imagine his depression hit even worse, and it was even harder for him to resist his intrusive, suicidal thoughts. And, when he wakes up from the ice, he is technically 94 years old. So he resigns himself to leaving six more years. He decides he can live six more years before he kills himself. He doesn’t know if he ages anyways, and the thought of living like this forever is horrifying, but he can do six years. He can keep his promise to Bucky and last six more years.

Of course, intrusive thoughts are very hard to resist, so I imagine Steve got close to making another attempt in the two years after he woke up, but he was either interrupted or managed to talk himself down.

And then, eventually he finds Bucky again, and that focus helps push away the thoughts for the time being.

I always imagine though, that while in Wakanda, Bucky remembers Steve trying to kill himself when they were younger, and he confronts Steve about it. That is when they are finally able to have an open conversation about what Steve felt, and what Bucky felt, and where each of them are mentally now.

Self-harm

This was a fic that I actually planned to write. I have a WIP that was going to introduce this eventually.

The idea was that after Steve woke up from the ice, he slowly began to self-harm to deal with all his anxious, repressed emotions. It would start out small—digging his nails into his fists, and arms to try to focus/calm down etc—before eventually it would evolve to cutting.

Steve is very careful to hide it, and his super healing helps. I headcanoned that he used a pocketknife that Bucky gave him during the war (one of the only things of his that he has, besides his compass). He always keeps it on him, and he develops a sort of anxious tick were he unconsciously brushes his hand over his pocket when he is feeling stressed, just to reassure himself that the knife is there if he needs it.

He knows that self-harm isn’t healthy, but he avoids thinking about it. He justifies the fact that he heals quickly, and doesn’t scar. It hardly matters, right?

I usually headcanon that Sam finds out about the self-harm while they are tracking down Bucky. Once Sam finds out, Steve does try to work on quitting, but it is a two steps forward, one step back process for him. He starts carrying around elastic bands in his gear belt so that he can use those when he has an urge.

Usually I don’t have any of the other Avengers find out—although Steve might tell Bucky once they get to Wakanda. Once Infinity War came out, I headcanoned that Steve really wanted to keep from self-harming after Sam and Bucky died, because he knew they would want him to, so he asked Natasha to hang onto his knife for him. She didn’t know why he asked that, but she could tell it was important.

When I first thought about writing this story, it appealed to me because I wanted to write a self-harm story that should the slow progression Steve’s self-harm took.

The main reason I don’t think I will write this story anymore is because it will probably be depressing for a long time. In order to do the slow-burn right, we’d have to follow Steve’s headspace for a while, so it would be a long time before he got any help. I still like this idea, but I probably won’t write it.

I hope you enjoyed those fic ideas! Hopefully it wasn’t too depressing. If you want to chat with me more about this ideas, feel free!

Headcanon masterpost