#no one talk to me about the principles I had to swallow and the struggles I went through to get my taxes fucking filed this year

[mobydyke]

sex is cool and all but have you ever put a task you just finished on your to-do list so you get to cross it off immediately

[fishnapple]

How to love yourself better? A request letter from yourself. (Channelled message)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. White

Dear myself,

If I could light a fire right now, I could, just to see if that fire can compete with my light, our light. And yet I got a feeling that fire will burn brighter than us, just because it had someone to start it. But ours didn't. We stowed our fire away, our light, for fear of burning the eyes of the world? Or for fear of being engulfed in the sea of darkness outside?

Have you ever seen a solar eclipse? People gathered to watch it, a brief moment of the sun being eaten. A brief moment. Imagine how the world would be if that brief moment turned into a very long moment, an eternal one? Panic, fear, despair. We have prolonged our solar eclipse for far too long, let the Sun has its shine. Does it sound arrogant when I talk of us as the Sun? No, you should get used to it. To be the light, the be seen. Even when the Sun seems like a solitary existence on the sky, it's not, so are we.

I wanted to tell you many beautiful words, give you praises and a pat on the head. Sounds embarrassing, right? We should learn to do that more often. And then practice it with other people too, we all need it sometimes, a lot of times.

Do you know what will happen when we turn the anger on ourselves? Somehow, it will ricochet inside us and finally shoot out at other people. It's painful, for us and for them. Let's hold it in our hands, watch it breathe and stroke it gently, find where does it hurt and tend to it, then poof- it's gone. You catch anger not by throwing it around and putting it in a cage but let it heal and fly away on its own.

I'm sure that sometimes you will find yourself drowning in life, in other people's water. Losing yourself could be your worst nightmare. But you will never lose me. It's odd how we're surrounded by people but feel like we are alone in our struggle. Where did all the people go? Are they also drowning like us? In a different sea? I hope that all the seas are connected to each other so we can all find others to swim with us.

Till the next sun rise, yourself.

2. Pink

Oh, how I want to just throw away everything and run barefoot on the sand. To lie face up, watching the clouds passing by for hours. To paint the wall bright pink and yellow (this combination might hurt your eyes if you stare too long, though). But we're not a kid anymore, or so people have told us, much like how we've told ourselves, convinced ourselves to behave.

It's fascinating to watch the process of our resistance to what is taught to us. Why do we resist it so much? It feels like being gravely offended. We have our principles, and now we have to listen to others telling us what is right? What is wrong? Let me tell you, in a small whisper, it's actually nice to listen. Just listening, not obeying. It will feel like swallowing a rock. Maybe we could learn from the chickens a little, metaphorically. They swallow small rocks to aid in healthy digestion. So let's swallow some of the hard lessons.

You always like to think in concrete fashion. You try to touch your thoughts with your own hands and knead them, mould them into whatever you want. And when you're dropped into a relationship with someone, you find yourself lost that ability. It's all a jumble mess. You find your hands reaching out, grasping for something. How about the other person? Are you afraid that you will lose yourself if you hold on to them? It's fine, you won't. It's just an outdated belief that you've held on for far too long.

As we were talking about swallowing, you may want to watch what you're swallowing into your stomach, literally. Watch what you eat! Don't make yourself, ourselves suffer by bringing unhealthy things into our body. We may want to live long, you know.

Hey, if you find a dance class is too embarrassing, how about we turn off the light and dance with each other in the middle of the night. Nobody will know, but we will feel good (I'm not trying to be a flirt with myself here)

Your best friend, love.

3. Red

Make me a cup of tea, please.

Let's have a chat, just us, lying around lazily, sipping our favourite tea, imagining some weird scenarios to entertain us, playing some puzzle.

I don't have much to tell you because we talk to each other every day and I know you always try to be better for us. I love you and I'm proud of you. Let's be vain and give ourselves applause every day. Make it a pinky promise.

A reminder when you're feeling sluggish and slow, we are going to exactly where we need to be. You are guided and protected.

Keep on shining and be the little kid that runs around in the rain.

I love it when you're running wild, letting yourself, me, free, splashing colours everywhere. I just want to grab other people's hands and drag them to the dance. I love it when you're laughing, loudly, even better when you jolted others around you, oh, their surprised look, priceless.

Just be sure to take care of your body. Don't over tasking them. Work hard, play hard, but rest hard also.

Have you been thinking about going on a trip somewhere? No? Then, allow me to make a gentle request. Let me put the idea in your head. Go on, go to wherever you're thinking, there might be a surprise waiting for us, *hint: it will make our heart flutter*.

Let's make it a ritual to go on a trip every year. Let's give our mind and spirit a makeover. Dust off any tangled mess we have and prepare a space for new things to come into. I'm so excited.

It's got me thinking lately, there's this small blinking light in the back of our mind, sometimes I can see it, sometimes I can't. I want to find out what it is. It's like a signal, trying to reach us, can you feel it? Sometimes, there's this odd feeling swelling inside that you can't put your hand on and naming it. I think if we can sit still, quiet, in the dark, we could see it better. It's guiding us. To where? I got a feeling that it's somewhere deep, somewhere with a treasure, waiting for us. If we can uncover it, it will be the greatest gift that the universe has ever given us. So let's go and find it.

Love, myself.

4. Green

I have some news for you. Brace yourself for changes. They're coming, very fast, very soon. Sit yourself tight. I don't want to give spoilers, but I guess we will receive some sudden confessions or offers. What you will do with those confessions is completely your choice. You don't have to feel guilty if you don't return their feelings, my dear.

I think the way the universe is sending us this kind of surprise is telling us to reconsider our 'single' thinking mode. We have stood alone, strong and independent for so long, I think it actually makes us a little too comfortable in being alone that the thought of getting into a connection with someone can be daunting. Will we lose our freedom? What if we are dependent on them? This time, the universe is saying: 'you and your worries will not make a good journey together, break up with those worries, here, I will throw in some opportunities for you to practice '.

If you don't want romantic connection at the moment, fine, different types of connections will come. No matter what, the universe is determined to get us involved with other people. It's for our own good. I have to admit that it's hard. It's not easy to change our way of thinking and believing. So surprises will be needed.

When opportunities come, the gate is opened, we just need to receive them. Walking through the gate will feel like walking out of a confinement into the wild, lively world outside. We will be propelled into a new path that we hadn't even considered in the past. Beware of what you said in the past about how you don't want to do something, you can't imagine yourself doing something. Well, guess what, we are going to do just that, joke on us.

So, in the meantime, even if you're resisting, it's fine. Just take care of yourself, of us. Obsessive worrying can sadden our body.

Something is going away, giving space to a new energy coming in. This new energy will be softer, more loving. The harshness of the past will go away soon. Trust me.

Love, Your companion.

[wrenaspun]

“He was right,” said Laurent. “When I fell in love, I did hand it over.”

“He was wrong,” said Damen. “It’s not something you can give, not to anyone.”

Laurent shrugged with one shoulder. “It’s not something you would accept. That’s not the same.”

“No,” said Damen, a little helplessly.

“I want,” Laurent had to take a breath to swallow the bitter humiliation of being forced to say it, “to give this to you.”

“I’d never ask it of you,” said Damen. “Never.”

“That’s —” Another breath. The rising hot pressure behind his eyes.

Unexpectedly: “I know,” said Damen. Now he looked contrite, his gaze pleading. “That’s not the point. I know. I’m sorry.”

Thank you for writing in!! 💕 This section was so vital to the selkie fic because it was the first real revelation, I think, of what Laurent and Damen were conflicted about, and where exactly they were disagreeing. To Laurent, the sacrifice of giving up his skin is an act of love, but to Damen accepting it could only be selfish; his act of love is refusing the sacrifice. I love conflicts like this, where both parties are genuinely trying to help or enrich each other, but get tripped up by their differing beliefs of how to go about it.

Meanwhile Laurent is struggling with having to express this at all! In his ideal version of this scenario (as he might imagine it at this time) Damen just takes the skin and hides it away and they never talk about it ever. Having to vocalise your desires can be so personal, and someone as intensely closed-up as Laurent would find it super challenging. Even just saying 'i want you to take it' is unbearably intimate, for him -- having that refused is salt in the wound.

And I think Damen understands that well enough to apologise for it: for making Laurent say it, and for having to turn him down. Contemplating the final line of that snippet is making me think about how I could have turned this into a full-on Misunderstandings Fight, but I never really considered that! We know that Damen knows & can read Laurent extremely accurately, that he has his own principles which he lives by, and that he's very straightforward and honest about what he thinks -- and, maybe most importantly, that in the context of the fic they've been together and committed to each other for a while, so this felt like a natural step for him. And it's because he's this gentle that Laurent's hackles go down, and they can try (however awkwardly) to move forward together <3

(dvd commentary meme)

[jee4682]

1

Growing up i didn't really have the desire to transition, to look more feminine. I was adamant on finding a great, genuine love where he will accept me the way i am. How i look, how i talk, how i present myself. I believed that such love does exist, i just have to wait for it.

During my teenage years, i wasn't actively looking for love even though i was surrounded by couples and flings and romance all of the freakin time. I knew it is a different struggle for me to find something they easily have or acquire so ,i decided to wait for it. I decided to let it come to me because i had it in my mind that i was somehow special and that i have a lot of love to give so anyone who would choose me would just be downright lucky. I was confident of myself. I had a sky-rocketing self esteem. I was happy with myself and how i looked even though its far from society's standards when it comes to looking for partners. I was contented and at peace.

Now that i've seen and have been immersed in the reality of the world and how it revolves and how it works, i don't think a love so great is even possible. I didn't even think a great deal of self worth, self confidence and self esteem would be diminished by it's cruel reality. There is too much superficial basis on this world that not even a good personality, good sense of humor and empathy can overcome. It is a sad reality and there is nothing we can do to change it.

I only ever had one lover and that happened because yes, i settled. I felt like if i did't take this opportunity of love (was it really though?),i would lose it forever and that for people like me, it only comes once in a blue moon so i took it despite everything about him went against my personal standards. we had good moments but that always happens when we're alone. when other people are present, we just looked like friends and i went along with it cause i know I am or i will be the cause of his humuliation. I swallowed all of my principles just to feel loved and all i got was betrayal in the end.

Fast forward to one or two years later, i found myself on a dating app. Boo is it's name. For a while it was meh. Just shallow conversations that you know will never elevate into something real. Not until i met him, James (youbin lee). The initial talk felt very different than all the other people i talked to on the app. We bonded over life's miseries and picking up our little poisons (as we call alcohol) just to drown out the misery and the loneliness. The whole time we were talking felt so different and unexplainable. He understood what i was going through and i understood his stuff as well. We'd have moments of epiphany. The "oh, i never thought about it that way". He gave me perspective and honestly, hope. I found myself craving for the feeling i get when we talked and it was great for a while. We'd talk frequently and would not run out of things to say. I'd even drunk text him all the cringey thoughts in my head and he would just laught it off and find it adorable. I was madly inlove with this man. so much so that i associated a whole band, a whole genre of music to his memory and how he made me feel. Even my friends followed suit. Everytime we would listen to Wave to Earth, his name would somehow slither it's way to the moment and I was happy about it. I felt seen and understood. He knew about what i am from the start but he did't cared to clarify it because as per his words "he liked talking to me so much".

several months passed and all of a sudden he disappeared. Without any explaination without any warning. I waited, i sent him messages even though i know he wasn't going to respond. I was devastated, the only person that i felt who saw me and understood me suddenly disappeared.

[i-like-sparkly-things]

Right in front of you

A Halstead!sister

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? Or being caught?"

Requested : Yes by @study-coffee-chicago : They found out she cheated on a test in high school...and Jay's the one who has to pick her up.

Warnings : angry!Jay (lots of it), alcohol, swearing, anxiety attacks

Note : I am so so so sorry this so longg 😭 I ended up so far away from the actual request kayela please don't block mee 😭 butt I've learned alot in writing abt active and passive voices and using more imagery Yayy!! I'm so glad that yall are ok with my grammar thank uu🥺

MASTERLIST HERE

The piles of homework and flashcards you needed to memorize had no end in sight, and now that Will was taking nightshifts along with his usual double shifts, and intelligence was tracking down an underground drug cartel, you spent most days alone, allowing your mind to engulf you.

Every time you sat down to study, you felt a striking pain in your chest. In mere seconds the air was sucked out of your lungs and you found yourself panting, desperate to get oxygen back into your body.

You would be surrounded by books and worksheets and you could swear the walls of your room were closing in towards you, trapping you in a sea of incomplete work.

You failed to follow the schedules and to do lists you had made for yourself. Staring at them, hoping the essays would write themselves.

All you needed, was a break. A moment to relax from anything and everything.

So when your best friend mentioned that her brother used to drink a little before he appeared for an exam, your mind was quick to catch on.

Last night you had borrowed a little bit of beer from Jay's stash of alcohol and took a few sips of it as you studied.

The more you drank, the less bitter it became. It was a weird, new sensation, but it worked nonetheless.

Except now, you were sitting in the girls bathroom at school, ramaging through your notes, trying to recollect what you had learned yesterday.

You saw what you had underlined and highlighted— names in pink and important dates in yellow—but your mind came up blank.

Flipping the pages you saw people in wigs, and castles burning to the ground —None of which you recognized.

A wave of anxiety rippled through you unable to comprehend your next thought —you were going to fail.

Your head was throbbing as you ran a hand down face, massaging your temples trying to calm yourself down.

You took out your water bottle that you had filled with beer and swallowed a few gulps, hoping that it would help you think straight.

You groaned, feeling the sting of alcohol at the back of your throat, popping some mints into your mouth, you ran towards the exam hall.

***

Your foot bounced on the polished wood floors as sweat pooled on your forehead.

You thought you were careful —only taking a peek from your friends answer sheet when Mrs.Ling's back was facing you.

Everything would have worked out if it wasn't for that kid sitting behind you. In a split second your teacher turned around, when he dropped his pen, to see you peering over your partner's desk.

Now you were sitting in the principles office praying that Jay wouldn't be the one picking you up.

You could already imagine his anger at you for pulling him away from his case, only to find you cheated.

Unfortunately luck was not on your side today.

You dare not look at Jay as he entered the office, letting out a huff as he sat down. You could feel the rage emitting him, tension filling the room, as he burned holes looking at you.

"I'll get straight to the point" Your principal started.

"Please" Jay growled, struggling to contain himself. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, when he got the call saying that you had cheated on your midterms.

You and Will were alike,at least he thought so, both good at science and math but weak at geography and history. Nonetheless you continued to secure good grades for the most part.

"Y/n here, was caught cheating from a classmates answer sheet. Our teacher caught her red handed. I truly did not expect this from you. These midterms cost thirty percent of your grade..... "

Pretty soon his voice was muffled like he was getting farther and farther away from you. His figure swayed in front of you as you squinted your eyes to keep him in the center of your vision.

" You are suspended, Mrs halstead"

Your eyes widened , your body choosing the perfect time to bring out what little beer you had taken when you heard those words, letting the alcohol mix with the adrenaline.

"WHAT??!! " Damn, alcohol really bought out your courage as Jay stared at you in shock at your audacity.

"Y/n, your lucky I'm letting you retake the exam. That's only because you've had a clean record so far. I strongly suggest you start preparing early Ms. halstead" your principal said in a firm but monotone voice that left you speechless.

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

Oh god. Every now and then, the ground would sway beneath you, tiles shifting in your vision. But you counted your steps, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, not wanting Jay to find out what else you had done........ until now.

You tilted your head, only to be met with your brother's piercing stare but little did he know, now it made it infinitely harder to concentrate on your walking.

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? *Or being caught?*"

***

You rested your head on the seat as Jay entered the truck, flinching, when he slammed the door shut. Your pounding headache was getting worse by the minute, as your ears started to ring.

You blinked a few times squinting to focus on the road ahead of you but the fast-moving cars and the loud horns made you feel like your head was going to explode.

"Y/n," he addressed you, much calmer now.

You forced yourself to turn to your brother, who wore a confused expression.

But the moment he saw your deshelfed hair and your cracked lips, a wave of worry crashed over him. What the hell?

The truck came to a stop at a red light and Jay immediately scanned you over "Y/n?" he grabbed your chin, his jaw dropping, as he came face to face with reality.

"Are you drunk!!?" he barked , steam basically pouring out of his ears.

But your pleading eyes and empty silence gave him the answer he needed. "Are you kidding me??" he snarled as he slammed the steering wheel.

Oh God no. A blinding pain ripped through your head when Jay's palms made contact with the hard plastic. You winched turning your head away from your furious brother, letting out a whimper.

Jay's eyes widened at the sound, his heart breaking, realizing the pain you were in.

If he was going to be mad at you or at least punish you, you needed to be sober.

He stepped on the pedal as the light turned green taking a few breaths, trying to calm himself down.

With the vice lords reclaiming their territory and selling uncut fentanyl, bodies were dropping all over the city most of them being kids.

Kids..... your age.

Every kid at the morgue, just reminded him of you. He saw parents sobbing, begging for their kids to come back but Jay new better. They were never going to come home. Ever.

So he made it a priority to catch these ruthless creatures. He made it a priority over his sleep, over nine hours shifts and unknown to him, over spending time with you.

"Hey , hey" he whispered, not wanting to hurt you again, "We'll talk about this later ok? for now...... just..... it's ok..... I've got you" here reached out his hand, the other still on the steering wheel, to slowly rub your back as you tried to breath through the pain.

" I got you"

***

Jay wrapped a hand around you allowing you to hold onto him for support.

Silently, he deposited you on the couch, laying you down. He knew that he wasn't in any state to talk to you. He needed to clear his mind from his racing thoughts and rueful images of dying teenagers.

His phone rang, indicating that the district was awaiting him. "Here" he reluctantly shook your shoulders "Y/n, I need to go ok? Will will be here soon"

***

Almost half an hour had passed and you were waiting for Will to get out of the shower. You'd heard Jay explain everything to him over the phone.

You thought about how disappointed he would be.

Will —being the nerd he was— always helped you with your projects and gave you pop quizzes during breakfast, before your exams. He taught you how to organize flashcards just like he did in med school.

Even through your blurry thoughts, the image of Will's betrayed face and embarrassed eyes, knowing you cheated, lingered on your mind.

Your body was all over the place. Tiny noises echoing through your ear. Your muscles simultaneously aching and loose.

You were shivering as you tried to curl up into a ball. Your body trying to hold what little heat it had within itself.

But nothing stopped your tears.

You felt water drops make their way down your cheeks forming small splotches of water on the cushion you laid your head on.

And you didn't bother to wipe them away.

Will more or less was in the same state you were in. There was a multi-vehicle accident on the highway and victims were piling in the ED. He was running from one treatment room to the other, waiting to get back home and crash.

Will walked over to you with a huge glass of water and an advil, gently  nudging you to sit up.

Your head still pounded, your eyes zoning in and out of the figure in front of you "Y/n, here drink the whole glass and take this" Will soothed, placing the glass and the pill in your hand "I—I'm sorry" You whispered, distracting yourself from Will's eyes.

Will knew he should be angry. Just like Jay was but he couldn't bring himself to blaming you, not until he had the full story anyway.

You looked so petite on the enormous couch, your legs folded on top of each other, arms shaking as you drowned the glass of water along with the Advil.

Your red puffy eyes and tear strained cheeks,were a contrast from your usual self. or he thinks. He's been pretty busy lately, so he's not too sure. " We'll talk about it later. I'm not angry. I promise"

He assured and was about to head to bed himself when you grabbed his wrist.

If he wasn't angry at you then maybe— just maybe—he would help you.

"Stay" You pleaded , the word falling from your lips just as easily as it had, many, many times before.

And just like before, you were met with Will's soft brown eyes filled with sympathy, ready to help. Ready—to be by your side.

He's slowly nodded climbing onto the couch, next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and you nestled into him, laying your head on his chest.

You found some comfort as he embraced you, talking you under his arm and encompassing you in his warmth.

Holding on to him, you hoped that he would take your pain away, just like he did when you were little.

***

Will woke up to an uncomfortable feeling of something —or someone—   tugging at his shirt.

He slowly opened his eyes allowing them to adjust to the light as he felt another a tug at his side. He looked over to you, but your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, your arm laid across his chest.

You were holding on to Will , using him as a lifeline, grounding you from the pain.

You felt a hand squeezing your own, stopping you from gripping the fabric "Y/n?" You opened your eyes to look up at will who had tears of his own, staring at the state you were in "it's okay, I'm here, I'm right here"

He encircles you, tighter than before, whispering soothing assurances into your hair.

***

With Will's help, the pain slowly subsides, allowing you access to your thoughts again.

You step out of the shower, into the living room and your eyes widen seeing Jay and Will sitting at the kitchen counter.

You didn't even hear Jay come in, but right now taking in his hardened glare, you didn't dare ask.

You knew what was coming and you didn't fight. You couldn't.

"So apparently we're cheating on our midterms now, huh?" Jay's calm voice made shivers run down your spine, starting to take rapid breaths.

"And apparently, someone thinks it's ok to steal alcohol from my stash" He gritted, never breaking I contact with you. "Do you think that's how the world works Y/n? DO YOU? BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED YOU'RE STILL A FUCKING TEENAGER!!" He spat, his thoughts fuming towards your trembling body.

It was every dieing body flashing before his eyes, as the past months' agony slipped off his tongue.

"Jay" Will's voice was stern, giving a knowing look towards his younger brother and didn't bother to give Jay time to argue with him.

"Y/n, we need to know what's going on"

"With school, with tests with....... everything" he stated giving you a solemn look meaning every word he said, promising himself that he would do whatever it takes to figure out what had been going on.

You sucked in a breath weighing all your options. You didn't want them to think that you needed a babysitter or  that you couldn't take care of yourself.

You knew that they had their own problems to worry about but you couldn't take it anymore.

You hated it.

The feeling of your lungs collapsing, struggling to find air for your body, your stress skyrocketing anytime you sat down to study, never getting any thing done.

All day long you would constantly tell yourself to do your work. Every spare second is spent in making a list of things you want to do but when it was time to actually do those things, your mind wandered and emptied.

You took another deep breath, looking up from your feet, your eyes meeting your brothers.

You spilled the past months events from how alone you were all the time and not being able to concentrate to how you ended up drunk at school and cheating on your midterms.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you your hands trembled. You stood crying in the middle of the room until you felt a pair of arms around you.

Will placed his hand at the nape of your neck as he stroked your back with the other "Breathe Y/n, just Breathe" He slowly pulled away leading you to the couch.

God, how he wished he could turn back time. Then he'd been more vigilant to notice the changes that had come over you.

You felt the couch dip on both sides but you intently studied your fingers, fumbling with the hem of your shirt and wiped the tears off your face. They were mad. No, they were furious. You knew it.

But for some reason, they weren't showing it. Maybe they were waiting-

"We're not mad"

You without your head around to look at Jay, furrowing your eyebrows in disbelief. Jay? Not mad? HA.

"but I am disappointed though, but that's only because you didn't tell us......

but stealing alcohol was bad too" he added, earning him a glare from Will.

"Y/n, what Jay means is— we could've helped with school . Homework . Tests . Anything, you name it. We will help" he assured, "But how do we know you need help, if you don't tell us?"

You sighed, taking in the weird turn of events that had happened before you. You had wasted all this time, trying to figure out all your problems out, when the answer was right in front of you.

A mountain of guilt now sat on Jay's shoulders, weighing down on him, pushing him deeper into a wormhole of 'if's'.

Maybe if he'd just been a little more careful, this wouldn't have happened.

Maybe if he'd stop and listen to you once in a while, this wouldn't have happened.

While trying to save kids out on the street, he forgot to care for the kid at home. You were his sister, and yet, here you are in front of him, barely keeping yourself together.

But that would change. Right here. *Right now.*

"Y/n," Jay started "If you would have told us how alone and stressed you were feeling.....I would've taken some time off... Maybe we'd watch a movie or something. All you had to do was ask...... And we'll get you the help you need, y/n. You good with that?" he questioned, his anger and frustration dissipating.

You saw your brother, the workaholic detective, wanting to put his job aside, for you .

You were more important to him, than his job—You realized.

" Yea... Yeah, I am"

Will stood up and got another advil with another glass of water. "and maybe you wouldn't end up drunk and cheating on your test" he smirked, crouching in front of you.

"God, I didn't think it would hurt this bad. I am never drinking again!" you smiled , as you drowned the pill.

"See now that's what I like to hear!!" Jay exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest. You squirmed, trying to get out of his grip, laughing, when you were joined by Will.

You know what? Maybe, things are going to be okay? Ya know?

__________________________

Read more of my fics here!!

Tagging : @girlandthemoon @herecomesthewriterwitch @megaliciab @meyocoko @alkadri-layal

[litwitlady]

The 3x08 fic I was writing in case 3x08 didn’t end with Malex goodness. It’s unedited and very raw, so be gentle.

*************************

Michael sits next to Alex on his lowered tailgate and hands him a beer. It had been a long, stressful day, but they had managed to help Maria pull herself free from Jones and were well on their way to saving Max as well. “To a damn good day.”

They clink their bottles together and drink in silence as the sun sets behind the junkyard. There’s no space between them; Michael hadn’t cared to leave any. He’s no longer interested in hiding what he wants from the person he most wants. That being said, he still hasn’t figured out exactly what to say to Alex about the future he hopes for both of them, still too used to Alex running at the mention of any kind of permanence.

“We make a pretty good team,” Alex says, staring down at his boots. 

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Michael knocks their shoulders together, pulling a smile from Alex.

“I’m not. Not really.” He takes a long drink, swipes at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Michael watches him pick at the label on the bottle and knows he’s locked in a battle with himself. Always at war, never able to find peace.

“Figured out what you’re going to do about the whole Deep Sky thing?” They need to have this conversation. Michael doubts it will go well, but they’d put it off all day in order to get shit done. And now the shit is done. 

Alex shakes his head. “I know what you want me to do. It’s just not so cut and dry for me.”

“Why not?

“Because this is how I’m useful. You all have this alien connection, these alien powers. But I don’t. I’ve got resources and that’s it.” He shrugs, his chin wobbling ever so slightly as he looks off into the desert and away from Michael. 

“Last I checked, Liz didn’t have any alien powers, and she’s been plenty useful.” 

Alex snorts, keeping his head turned away. “You and I and the whole world know that Liz’s brain is her superpower. Hell, she gives you a run for your money in that department.” He drinks from his beer again, sets it aside. “I know I sound pathetic, but I need to be more than just a cheerleader on the sidelines, Guerin. And Deep Sky is how I can do that.”

They fall silent again, less comfortable this time, tension building steadily until Michael’s afraid Alex will bolt. He opens his mouth to say something, to say anything to keep him from running, but Alex beats him to it. 

“And I know this is a demand I’m putting on myself. I get that no one requires anything more from me than just showing up and being there or whatever.” He waves his hands around vaguely, his voice strained and cracked. “You’ll love my useless ass anyway, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to love myself. You know?”

“Yeah.” And the thing is, Michael does know. He’s always struggled with self-worth and feeling like he has to earn his place. He understands that Alex has too, just maybe in a quieter way, held deep inside unlike Michael’s volatile messiness. “I can’t fix that for you.”

“I know. And I’m working on it. I promise. It’s just not going to change overnight.” He turns back to Michael, offers him a small smile now that he’s controlled his emotions somewhat.

“Well, from one self-loathing fuck to another, me too.” He returns Alex’s smile and they both grab their beers again, taking a much-needed break from too many words spoken and shared and unable to be taken back. But regardless of the tension still sitting heavy between them, Michael feels giddy, lightheaded, full of hope.

“It’s just, you know, even Ramos didn’t choose me because of any actual skill. He chose me because an alien boy batted his eyelashes at me once and I handed over my entire life to him without question. Fall in love with an alien and get full access to Deep Sky’s darkest secrets.” He laughs, derisive and sharp. “This is too much self-pity. Sorry.”

“No need for sorry. And I’m pretty sure I never batted my eyes.” Michael considers what he’s said and struggles to find better words to say what he wants to say. And maybe that’s half the reason they have so much trouble talking, trying to find the perfect words rather than just saying what they feel no matter how bullshit it sounds. “But I do think that maybe that is your superpower, no matter how cheesy it sounds.”

Alex scoffs and kicks his foot in the dirt. “My hard-on for alien ass is my superpower?”

“No, love is. I know that sounds like a line out of a sappy 90s romcom.”

“It really does.”

“But, it’s true. You love so freely, so openly, so completely that you were able to entirely change my mind about humanity. And that is power, Alex, maybe the greatest power.” Alex looks at him, brows knitted together like he doesn’t believe a single word coming out of Michael’s mouth, lips already shaped into an argument. “And your capacity for love is made all the more amazing knowing it’s something no one ever really taught you how to do. So I’ve got to give Uncle Ed some credit; he chose you for the right reasons.”

Alex’s face crumples, his eyes shine with unshed tears, and he stares down at his hands for several beats before sliding off the tailgate and taking several steps forward. Michael’s heart races, his stomach plummets because he’s said too much, gone too far, struck a nerve best left alone. He swallows hard and girds himself for Alex’s inevitable next move now that things have gotten too raw for comfort. 

But Alex doesn’t run. He stays put, still and quiet, staring down at his boots and then into the distance toward the mountains. Putting his hands on his hips, he takes several loud, steadying breaths and turns back to Michael. His cheeks are tear-streaked and there’s enough emotion left on his face to take Michael’s breath away. He hasn’t run, he hasn’t hidden himself away. So Michael reaches out his hand and tugs him back onto the tailgate.

“Since I’m on a bit of a roll,” Michael starts, pausing while Alex laughs and swipes at the tears wetting his cheeks, “you were helpful today beyond merely being ‘resource guy’. You have this knack for staying cool under pressure even when I’m spiraling into an emotional mess which made you able to see things I couldn’t. And now we have an entire alien language we need to decode and last I heard, you were a pretty good codebreaker. And if Eduardo is as good a man as you think he might be, I don’t see how it should matter if you’re in Deep Sky or not. He should help you on principle.”

Alex clears his throat and laughs again, the sound music to Michael’s ears. “When did you get so good at this?”

“I’ve been attending the Kyle Valenti School for Wayward Boys. That asshole’s really quite effective and it pisses me off to admit that.”

“I hate that about him.” They grin at each other, thankful they can joke over Valenti now that he’s safe and sound and fully under Liz’s protection. “Thank you, Michael. For everything, for today. We really do make a great team.”

“We do. And that’s what we’re going to continue to be, yeah?” He looks at Alex, catching his eye and holding on, trying to communicate beyond words now.

“Yeah.” Alex holds his gaze, and Michael knows that they’re on the same page. Finally. “You can kiss me now.”

It’s Michael’s turn to scoff. “Who says I want to kiss you?”

Alex just raises a single eyebrow and fists Michael’s jacket collar tight, yanking him forward. Michael takes the direction as always, letting Alex put him right where he wants him. The kiss is soft and lingering, a simple reconnection more than their usual carnal immediacy. But they have time now, so much time.

Michael pulls back. “Kyle Valenti only wishes he were this good.”

“Shut up, Guerin.” Alex kisses him again, smiling against Michael’s lips. 

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Charlie’s 5✩ Inspiration: Daytime Spiritualities [昼日疑魂] Date Translation (END 5: Heart-throb)

“Entrust me all your fears and astonishment alike; there’s no need to hold back.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Charlie’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *5✩ Inspirations have 5 Endings!! *CG Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Charlie’s tag will be #For Night, For Paradox

✥ Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

How should I reply to him…?

★ E5 NIGHT: Nope★

As an adult well-versed in the horror genre, I was immune to horror movies for the most part.

MC: Of course not. We can bet on it if you don’t believe me.

Charlie: Stakes?

It appears that I had aroused his competitive spirit, for he smiled at me with interest.

MC: How about we bet on… who gets scared out of their wits first?

Charlie: Are you certain? I’ve never once lost a bet.

It was a gamble where the outcome was uncertain. The loser would be the first to lose their composure from fear.

There’s no way I’d admit defeat all so easily in the face of a show-off like Charlie!

MC: Absolutely!

Charlie: Interesting. I accept your challenge.

Charlie: You’re going to be the one losing your pride if you get so terrified afterwards that you can’t move.

Charlie: But, before we commence this bet… Aren’t you forgetting a little something?

MC: What do you mean?

Charlie: Where did you go this morning?

MC: The hospital.

Charlie: Think again. Before the hospital?

MC: Before…? Oh, right! I went out to buy snacks.

I jumped up, running to the door and rummaging through the bag of groceries I’d left there.

MC: What do you want to drink?

Charlie: Beer, like you.

I secured two cans of beer from the contents of the bag… Wait, no! What did he just say? He wants to drink BEER!?

I thought he didn’t drink? I mean, last time…

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During my last day off, Charlie had called me in the middle of one of my drinking moods.

Charlie: You’re drinking your sorrows away at home?

MC: I’m not drowning my sorrows in alcohol. I just felt like I was in the mood to drink; there’s an emotional appeal to it.

MC: Don’t you do the same when you go to bars?

Charlie: ...I do go to the bar, but I don't drink.

MC: ...Oh?

The rumoured star of the night who bombed a ton of money in private clubs is actually a “good boy”?

MC: How's that possible? You're lying, aren't you?

Charlie: Is it that odd to not drink?

MC: ...Not really.

Charlie: It's even odder to think that going to a bar equals drinking.

Charlie: Let’s just put it this way. The only reason why I go to bars is to play.

Charlie: And administering alcohol to the body is the greatest thing one can do to sully the living and perfect human brain.

Charlie: Especially this sort of low-quality alcohol made with fermented malt. 100g of the sweetened water called beer and its low molecular weight generates 180 joules of heat with your body.

Charlie: Drinking beer? Might as well swallow active bombs instead. At least, it’ll be much faster that way.

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So… Just what was going on here? It was one of the principles he lived by. Yet, he was doing a whole 180?

MC: Aren’t you afraid that ingesting alcohol will be an insult to that sober brain of yours?

Charlie: Didn’t someone say that drinking appeals to the mood?

Charlie: I'm with my Fiancée right now. Do you think I should retain a high level of reason, or show a rare moment of dullness?

MC: Do I have a choice?

Charlie: Of course not.

Charlie: Don’t worry. I won’t use the excuse of being inebriated to pull anything funny.

MC: ...Look who’s talking here?

Charlie: I can’t stand those sort of people.

Charlie took the can of beer from me before sitting back down.

Never mind; I'll gladly drop the topic. How can an adult not drink at all? Although, I bet his abstinence is probably so that it doesn't affect his job.

Click! Click!

The crisp sound of cans being opened sounded.

Never thought that he'd open it for me.

MC: Thank you, Dr. Zha!

I naturally held an outstretched hand out, waiting for him to pass me the open can of beer.

However, Charlie didn't react.

Click, click, clack…

The continuous sounds of cans clacking came from him.

I curiously peered over, only to find Charlie staring awkwardly at the cans with his brows furrowed. They were still as intact as they came.

MC: Charlie, don't tell me that not only have you never drunk alcohol, but you also don't know how to open cans…?

Charlie: You're questioning a doctor's practical ability?

MC: Then, you...

Pop!

Charlie had cracked the can open.

He freezes, frantically shoving the beer into my open hand. Then, he shoved his hands into his pockets, putting up a professional act.

Charlie: I have the habit of trimming my nails for surgeries, so it's not convenient for me to be opening cans.

For a moment, I didn't quite know what to say as I looked at our nails. They were nearly equally long.

He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t even know how to open a can. So why does he suddenly feel whimsical enough to start drinking today?

I cracked open his can of beer for him. He carefully wiped the foam that bubbled forth the mouth of the can with a tissue.

Charlie: Just now...

He took a sip of beer and slightly furrowed his brow.

Charlie: It was a mere mistake of a perfect person.

Charlie: It will not happen again.

Saying so, the glint of pride returned to his eyes once more. And the can of beer was quietly pushed far, far away.

MC: Okay, let's get back to watching the movie.

The paused screen lit back into action, encasing the room in a chilling and terrifying atmosphere once more.

The plot gradually thickened and I got increasingly absorbed with the movie.

Everything around me started to fade as I zoned into the movie, Charlie included.

Charlie: *Coughs*

MC: ……

Charlie: (Y/n).

MC: ……

Charlie: Are you really not scared?

MC: Stop moving.

All I could do was to use a free hand to keep Charlie in place as he fidgeted in his seat.

Charlie: ……

In the movie, the prisoner that was on death row managed to successfully escape into a cramped and narrow underground passageway. As muddy water splashed everywhere, the horrible cries of the jailer sounded from the other end of the door to the secret passage.

I'd given my entire self over to the movie at this point, watching the prisoner's every step with peeled eyes. I'd totally missed the faintest of all finger snaps in the world that'd sounded by the sofa.

Squeak…

The door to the entrance opened.

MC: Is the prisoner about to get caught?

However, the movie never cut scenes to show the jailer coming through the door. Still, I was fairly certain that I'd heard the sound of the door opening. And if had also been very clear.

Just as I was about to turn around to ask Charlie about it, I witnessed a bone-chillingly horrible scene…

The door the prisoner had closed suddenly opens. Sinister winds were brewing outside.

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MC: ……

MC: It should be a sealed-off corridor outside. There shouldn’t be any wind…

The more I thought about it, the more terrified I got. All I could see was the epitome of horror in this movie unfolding before my very eyes!

I felt a chill run down my spine; one different from anything I'd ever felt before, its icy tendrils spreading across my body. An alarm sounds in my heart. I was hyper-aware, with all my nerves strung tautly. It was as if any minuscule change in the surroundings would be able to set my senses off.

BANG!

A loud sound rang out in the air as the secret passageway’s metal door was knocked down. The jailer’s savage smile was reflected upside down in the pool of water by the prisoner’s feet.

MC: AH!

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I frantically covered my eyes, subconsciously backing away into the thing I was leaning against.

Crap! I had such a big reaction! He definitely noticed...

Alas, his low voice entered my ears.

Charlie: Scared now?

His warm and powerful arm snaked around me from behind, wrapping itself around me above the blanket.

My searching back hit his chest; and the moment it did, a small yearning for comfort started making itself known within my heart, growing ever more so… Just like a lost traveller who'd finally found the lone source of light deep inside the forest.

Charlie: Admitting defeat this quickly?

Charlie's warm breath brushes against the top of my head, making the shell of my ear burn. Just a little closer and my face would be able to access the crook of his neck.

MC: Am not.

I stubbornly refused to admit defeat, but my feeble voice, muffled by my hand, proved otherwise.

Charlie: If so, then why are you covering your eyes?

Charlie: You're the one who said we're going to be watching this together? Can't live up to your words now?

His chest rumbled slightly. There was undeniable mischievousness in his voice.

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Charlie: Last chance. I’ll count to three. Put your hand down, hm?

Charlie: Three.

MC: I’m not even closing my eyes! See!?

I vehemently glared at Charlie through the gaps of my fingers.

Charlie: Not counted. I don’t advocate such viewing methods.

Charlie: Two.

MC: ...What can you even do to me?

Charlie: You don’t want to admit defeat, but neither do you want to put your hand down. Is there ever a bet so kind in this world?

His bony left hand reached up to cover the back of my hand as he attempted to push my hand back down.

I struggled against him with all my might, but he was way too strong. Hence, I had no choice but to admit defeat in this losing battle.

MC: One. I lose!

Charlie lets up, dropping the strength he’d been putting behind his fingers and ruffling my hair.

Charlie: Why are your lips poised so high up? Mad?

Charlie: Losing to me is nothing to be ashamed about.

Charlie gathered up the blanket that pooled around my waist, inadvertently pulling me closer to him as he did.

I sulked and refused to reply to him. I can’t believe I still managed to get scared by a horror movie when I’m already a full-grown adult! Not only did I lose, but I also feel ridiculed by this!

Still, I didn't want to admit that Charlie's embrace certainly did provide me with a sense of comfort.

Charlie: There, there. Don't be scared. I'm here.

He gently pats the back of my hand, speaking softly in a manner one would comfort a child.

His warm chest pressed against my back as his steady heartbeat resonated alongside mine, beating in tandem.

MC: ……

In hindsight, I realized that I’d always felt at ease and that I could forget about all my troubles whenever I was with Charlie. Even though he never fails to render me speechless and makes me want to roll my eyes at him for the most part.

Maybe it’s because he’s always so frank about things with absolutely no intent to hide anything? I don’t know...

Leaning into Charlie’s embrace, my fear and panic slowly ebbed away.

However, the door still made me feel a little uneasy, and I often found myself looking at it with frazzled nerves.

Suddenly, I noticed something strange about the little tailor alarm clock by the door.

Its hour hand was pointed at 12. The small mechanical tailor that told the time had jumped out of the clock, bobbing as it frantically rolled its measuring tape back up. Yet… I did not hear any chimes from the clock itself.

MC: What's up with today?

MC: Please tell me it’s not an actual supernatural occurrence…

I was just about to ask Charlie about it when a far-fetched reasoning for this suddenly flashed through my mind.

And it ingrained itself in my brain upon appearance, growing ever stronger…

No sound, with only the motions… Why didn’t I think of this earlier?

MC: Charlie?

Charlie: Hm?

MC: Is there anything that can cancel out sound?

Charlie: Why do you ask?

He withdrew his hand and stuffed it back into his pocket. There was a sliver of wariness in his eyes.

MC: It just came to mind. Just answer me.

Charlie: Vacuum. Sound cannot travel without mediums, and there are no atoms or molecules in a vacuum.

MC: And isn’t that your talent?

Charlie: Y-Yes?

I was getting closer and closer to confirming my suspicions.

The door that had suddenly opened without a sound, and the soundless alarm clock. If there was a scientific reason to explain all of those, then it’d be…

Charlie had just created a vacuum inside the door. That way, the air difference in air pressure on the inside and the outside would be able to push the door open.

Pity; but the soundless alarm clock had given me enough hints to piece everything together.

MC: You purposely scared me so I'd admit defeat myself? Well done, Charlie.

The movie was currently showing the part where the jailer collided with the metal door.

Thud, thud, thud…

This sound was vaguely familiar. A sudden idea hits me.

I tugged on the corner of his clothes, purposely lowering my voice.

MC: Charlie, do you hear something?

MC: Thud, thud, thud. Like someone knocking on the door.

Charlie: Are you having auditory hallucinations now? That's coming from the movie.

He held my head with both hands, turning it left and right.

Charlie: You haven't gotten any water stuck in your ears either.

I directly put my finger to his lips and looked around warily.

MC: Not that. Listen carefully.

A distant but very real thud sounded above us.

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Charlie was so terrified that he'd started shaking as he looked up at the ceiling incredulously.

I took the chance to grab onto his arm, leaning sideways to get closer to him and whispered into his ear.

MC: Believe me now?

MC: Actually, I saw something by the door just now and…

Charlie: What! What’s by the door!?

He quickly shot up from the sofa, encasing me in the shadow cast by his tall and wide back.

The movie had been paused, stopping on the dark scene of the secret passageway. The door of my entryway was partially shrouded by the eerie lighting coming from the projector. The creepy atmosphere intensified.

Charlie silently stared into the darkness for a good ten seconds before letting out the breath he’d been holding.

Charlie: What can there be?

Charlie: If ghosts truly do exist in this world, then why would the world ever allow someone as perfect as me, someone, who goes against even the laws of nature, to exist?

The corners of his mouth were raised in their usual arc. Looks like he has already regained his spirits.

The only thing that betrayed the nervousness he felt deep down were his hands that had yet to crease trembling.

He placed both his hands into his pockets, putting on a calm facade as he surveyed the room…

He’s putting his hands into his pockets again? Does he like to do that whenever he feels nervous?

Charlie: Perhaps something fell upstairs. It’s just a coincidence…

He'd only just finished speaking when another thud sounded. This time, it was much more solid, the sound seemingly reverberating through the very air of my apartment.

All colour drained from Charlie's face. I hurriedly stood up.

MC: Do you hear that!?

Charlie: Yeah.

I hid behind Charlie, slowly putting my hand into his shirt pocket. I could feel the slight tremor of his shoulders through the thin fabric of his dress shirt.

Charlie: ...I certainly do hear something.

His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down more of his fear. He unwittingly attempted to put his hand back into his pocket… only for it to brush against my hand that had touched the cold beer earlier.

Charlie: AHHH! HELP ME!!

Charlie: SOMETHING’S HERE!

Charlie could no longer maintain his noble attitude. He jolted, frantically throwing his composed facade out of the window as he flung my hand away.

MC: It's me!

Charlie: You…

Charlie gripped onto my shoulder with one hand while the other went to his chest. His frantic breathing slowly eased back to a normal rhythm.

Maybe it’s about time I tell him about “that”?

MC: Actually…

MC: There was once a girl who'd been imprisoned here in this room. She died from starvation here. That's why you'll often hear the sound of the door being knocked in the middle of the night.

MC: I never thought that she'd make an appearance in the morning this time…

Charlie: You're joking, right!?

I shook my head with a pained smile.

I placed both hands on his shoulders as I reached higher. I cupped my hand and got close to his ear and purposefully lowered my voice.

MC: If everything was fine and well at my place, then why would I have to call you here to watch a movie with me?

MC: Don't tell me you're thinking of running…?

Thud!

A resounding thud suddenly rang out, shaking even the walls as it reverberated.

Charlie: AHHHH!!

Charlie lost all his composure, screaming shrilly as he dove for the loveseat. I lost my balance as my knees hit the loveseat.

Amidst the chaos, Charlie had wrapped his arms around my shoulders as we both tumbled into one of the corners of the loveseat.

Charlie's skin was flushed from all the adrenaline, his breaths coming out in short and ragged pants. He was akin to a laboratory mouse who had its amygdala stimulated, lying against my shoulder paralyzed in fright.

His shrill scream earlier still faintly resonated in the air, making my eardrums ring in protest. I could help but recall how confident of himself he looked back when he made the bet...

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Charlie: You’re going to be the one losing your pride if you get so terrified afterwards that you can’t move.

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MC: Pft- Hahaha! This is way too good!

I couldn't keep up the act anymore. I leaned my forehead against his as I snickered like mad.

MC: Okay, okay. I'm just pulling your leg!

Charlie: ...What?

Charlie: You're joking? But, you— I— Just now…?

Charlie raised his head, looking absolutely appalled. Having just had a tumble, a tuft of hair stuck out from the top of his head.

I grabbed the tuft of hair that stood arrogantly upwards and pushed it back down with a vengeance, smoothing it out in my revenge.

MC: Yeah! Who told you to scare me with your vacuum earlier!

I could acutely feel how his face immediately heated up against my shoulder. Is it because he just found out that I was tricking him? Or is it because of something else?

MC: So, can you get off me now?

Charlie: I refuse.

He simply buried his head into the crook of my neck shamelessly, avoiding my gaze.

Charlie: You'll have to first explain to me just what is going on here.

Charlie’s arms were snugly wound around my body, seemingly threatening not to let go until he’d attained what he wanted.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Is this man truly the same Dr. Zha that was listed on the leaflet detailing the famed doctors of the Hospital...?

MC: The hungry ghost was just a story I made up to scare you

Charlie: Uh-huh.

Charlie: But, just now…

MC: That was just the heating pipes.

MC: The grandpa upstairs turns the heating on at noon every day.

MC: It's going to be summer soon, yet he still keeps it up. Always at 12 sharp. The man's way more on point than the afternoon news broadcast.

Charlie raised his head, his sweat-soaked hair brushing across my cheek. It was a little ticklish.

Charlie: That's it?

MC: Yup!

Charlie: Ahem.

He sat back up, lightly clearing his throat before composing himself. Gone was the embarrassment from having lost his composure.

MC: Phew… You finally let up, huh.

He reflexively smooths out his collar. Soon, he returned to his usual self that you were all so familiar with.

Charlie snaps to attention with his hands behind his back, purposely looking around the room in an off-handed manner.

Charlie: Actually, I could already tell that something was wrong with the structure of this housing apartment the moment I stepped into it.

Charlie: Alas, it was just as I expected. The pipings are so terribly loud.

Charlie turned to look at me, slightly lowering his head and peering down at me in approval.

Charlie: Also, your acting is really good.

MC: ?

Charlie: Actually… I wasn't scared at all.

MC: ??

MC: If so, then may I ask what’s the whole purpose behind the fear that you so kindly expressed earlier?

Charlie: I was merely playing along with you. It’s the greatest form of acknowledgement towards your acting skills.

Just who is playing along with whom, in this case? Is this even up for discussion?

Still, I think his red ears speak louder than words.

Charlie returns to his seat on the loveseat. His familiar warmth envelops me once more.

Charlie: You still lost today.

MC: How did this come back to that?

Charlie: You're the one who got scared out of your wits first. You still have a penalty to serve, so...

Charlie: Comfort me.

He turned his head to the side as he hugged me. His cheeks were a rarely seen shade of red. He was flushed from the neck to the tip of his ears.

Looking at how embarrassed he was, I couldn’t help but find it a little adorable.

The heat in his embrace didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. In fact, it made a reassuring sense of familiarity slowly spread through my heart, like a warm summertime breeze blowing from the side.

I boldly nestled deeper into his arms, basking in the soft dream-like moment.

MC: How rare for you to be so quiet.

MC: Man, if only your first instinct wasn't to pick fights...

Charlie: Please, Miss. It's not like you don't enjoy it either. It'll be over soon enough.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The movie ends before we know it after the dazed silence that lapsed.

The projector stopped screening once the movie came to a close. The screen blanked out along with my guilt, panic, and fear.

And I’d completely missed the ending of the movie.

MC: Charlie? Do you remember how the prisoner who was sentenced to death got away?

I thought that Charlie would respond immediately in that prideful tone of his, giving me a clear and concise answer. Hell, I was even prepared to withstand another round of his narcissism if that ever came to pass.

Yet, he sounded a little unsteady and unsure, almost as if he too, was thinking of an appropriate answer.

Charlie: ...How did the prisoner getaway? Simple. He defeated the jailer who imprisoned him. All horror movies end the same way.

MC: He defeated… the jailer?

MC: The jailer here is a figment of his imagination; it doesn’t exist.

MC: The prisoner’s trapped in his own dream.

To prove what I’d said, I quickly pulled up the homepage of the movie where the summary and all the reviews were written. I pointed it out to him.

MC: Look, it’s even written in the movie’s summary…

I raised my head to clarify with him, but Charlie chose to completely ignore me, turning his attention to the plush pillow on the sofa. His eyes were very shifty.

Suspicious. VERY suspicious…

MC: Charlie, you… you didn’t take this movie seriously at all, did you?

Charlie closed his eyes in a slight grimace, his eyebrows knitting…

That reaction…. I KNEW IT.

However, he quickly bounces back from that moment of frustration. His expression suddenly turned serious and exaggeratedly grim.

Charlie: (Y/n), life is but a fleeting one.

The hell is this man talking about!?

I didn’t quite know why, but the serious tone he was taking with me sounded vaguely threatening. I could only nod in accordance.

Charlie: I see that you agree as well.

Charlie: If one wishes to have a glorious life as glamorous as the sun in this fleeting period, then some trivialities will have to be forgone.

Charlie: Alas, that movie earlier was an unfortunate one to have been forgone by this perfect life of mine.

MC: ……

MC: I see. I never knew that there was such a poetic way of saying “I don’t remember”.

Charlie: Who says I don't remember?

Charlie: I remember as clear as the day how my Fiancée got so terrified that she burrowed right into my arms.

I helplessly sighed. Looks like it'll be a long time and a good long way before I'll ever manage to understand how that brain of his works.

MC: Then, does the matter of rating and evaluating this projector still exist in your precious time of existence, Dr. Zha?

Charlie: The projector? Average.

Charlie: It's hard for me to be evaluating a projector below $200,000.

Charlie: But, I can consider using it as a console for couples.

He raised an eyebrow, smiling.

MC: And just where are your thoughts running off to?

Charlie: I'm just giving my honest, unbiased opinion.

Charlie: I hope you can convey this precious review of mine to the brand makers. Consider it my good deed for the day.

MC: Alright, Mr. Charitable.

MC: Now, are you quite done with your charitable acts? I'm going to pack the projector up and send it back.

Charlie: Why?

MC: Because… I feel like I don't really need a home theatre.

Charlie stilled my hand with his own, moving to block the projector off from me.

Charlie: Wait. I’ll take it if you can’t find a use for it.

Charlie: Send it to my house next weekend.

MC: You sure about that?

Charlie: Of course, I naturally have the right to accept any common personal property that my Fiancée chooses to give up.

Charlie: Come to my house next week, and don't stand me up.

With that being said, he confidently walked out of the apartment.

The golden sports car parked by the road gave a tremendous roar as it sped up. It soon faded away, replaced by the ever-present bustle of the people on the streets  

Watching the silhouette of the car gradually disappear, the events of what had gone on within my apartment resurfaced to the forefront of my mind… Charlie was far more bizarre than any horror film I'd ever watched.

However, it’s as if his appearance was slowly lowering my impenetrable guard over my small piece of land.

Now, as for what will appear in the future… Will it be volcanos? Or channels? Who knows; we’ll just have to wait and see.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 + 3 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 4 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 5 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Paradox⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: Prologue

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Flights of Fancy

Chapter 7 of 7 (On AO3) by @dracusfyre

Now: Tony

As he watched Bucky walk away again, Tony staggered to the bench and sat down. 

“Tony, I’m so sorry,” Daniel said, sitting down next to him. “l should have guessed the old biddy was just trying to stir up trouble. If I had known I wouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s...It’s not your fault,” Tony said, head in his hands. “Oh, God, what am I going to do? How can I fix this?” He stared out at the dimly lit garden, wings slumped dejectedly. 

“Go after him, of course,” Daniel said. “You want him, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Tony said. “Seeing him again was…” He looked up at Daniel, willing him to understand. “I can’t - I can’t think about wearing anyone else’s paint, or rings, until I know if he doesn’t love me anymore. And even then, even if I find out that he doesn’t want me anymore, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to love like this again. Is that sad?” 

“It’s not sad to love strongly,” Daniel said, touching his wing to Tony’s lightly, comfortingly. “It was easy to see from the first time we met that you have a great capacity for feeling. I can’t say that I understand, but I hope that one day I will love like that.”

“But I can’t just fly after him,” Tony said, looking back at the hall where light was shining out of the windows. “Right?”

“Why not? What’s the point of being a Duke if you can’t tell society to go hang once in a while?” Daniel said, shrugging his wings. “If you want, I will send your carriage home and tell everyone that you are feeling poorly.”

Tony’s eyes softened. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, feeling his chest get tight and his eyes burn. “You are truly a kind person. You’ll make someone a lovely spouse. ”

“I know,” Daniel said briskly but with a wry smile, coming to his feet and pulling Tony up with him. “I’ve a couple of prospects that I think deserve a chance to console me after you and I call off the engagement. If it works out with your Bucky, you can thank me by sending me a very expensive wedding gift.”

Tony’s laugh at that came out a little damp. “Of course,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.” As Daniel started to shoo him away, he shrugged out of his cape, balling it up in his arms and handing it to Daniel. He climbed awkwardly on top of the garden wall and jumped into the air, flapping strongly to get above roof level. Stretching muscles that hadn’t gotten this much of a workout in years, he glided in widening circles, trying to keep an eye out for Bucky’s red coat. He found him a few streets over, heading towards the hotel district where he must have rented rooms. Tucking in his wings, Tony swooped down to land in front of him, backwinging and throwing up leaves and dust as he landed, tripping a little from being out of practice. Bucky was taken aback when Tony appeared in front of him, but as soon as he realized who it was he scowled. 

“Bucky, please, just listen,” Tony said as Bucky started to walk around him, stretching out a wing to block the way.

“Does your fiance know you’re here?” Bucky asked cuttingly as he brushed Tony’s wing aside with his own, the bitterness in his voice sharp as a knife. 

“He’s the one that sent me. Bucky, please, if you ever loved me, stop and just  listen!” Bucky stopped but didn’t turn around, leaving Tony to talk to the unreadable feathers of his back. “After Howard...did what he did, he bound my wings and locked me in the estate. Any time I left the house I had an escort, and I wasn’t even allowed pen or paper unless it was part of my studies. Three years I lived like a prisoner until Howard’s horse broke a leg during a hunt and landed on him, breaking his back. As soon as I could, I looked for you. For over a year, I searched, but no one knew where you were. I didn’t even know if you were alive or dead,” Tony said, hearing his voice wobble. Still Bucky didn’t turn around, so he swallowed thickly and continued. “Howard signed a marriage contract with Daniel’s family before he died and didn’t tell me. I didn’t even know about it until they showed up on my doorstep with the contract, ready to start planning the ceremony. Breaking it off would have been cruel and unfair and likely ruined his reputation, so I agreed to stay engaged until we could end it quietly.” Tony waited for Bucky to say something, anything. He took a step forward and hesitantly reached out to put a hand on Bucky’s wing, growing a little braver when Bucky didn’t move away. “Can you look at me? Please?” When Bucky turned around, Tony stepped into the light under a streetlamp and spread his wings as wide as they could go, feeling naked and exposed with his feathers bared. This was the first time that another person had seen his secondaries in years, much less since he'd started painting them after Howard died, and he felt terrifyingly vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that he was standing in the middle of the street with his wings open.

Bucky’s eyes dropped to the paint on his secondaries. “What is this?” He ground out. “Do Stark men grow crueler as they age? Why would you show me this?”

“What? Bucky, this…” Tony curled his wings in and looked down at the design. “This is our design! I’ve worn this paint, our paint, ever since my father died.”

“No, it’s not,” Bucky said, and he reached inside the pocket of his coat, pulling out a piece of paper that had been handled so many times that it had holes in the creases where it had been folded. He unfolded it and held it out for Tony to look at, and Tony was speechless when he realized that it was their original sketch - Howard hadn’t gotten his hands on it after all. As he looked at it, he choked back a sob. Bucky was right, the paint on his feathers was different; as much as he had tried to hold it in his memory, he had forgotten much of it and now the design on his wings had only a passing resemblance to the one on the paper.

“I didn’t…” Tony struggled to control his voice around the tightness in his chest. When he heard the paper rattle he realized his hands were shaking, and he thrust it into Bucky’s hands, humiliated. “I thought…Christ, I’m so stupid,” he said, folding his wings up against his back, vision blurry and throat burning with the effort of holding back tears. “I’m sorry, I need to-”

“Tony,” Bucky said, and his voice was so soft, so unlike the hard edge it had before, that Tony had to choke back another sob. “Come here, sweetheart.” Hands were on his arms, pulling him close, and then Bucky’s arms and wings were wrapped around him in a soft, warm cocoon smelling of vanilla wing oil. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Tony heard, and felt the press of lips against his temple. “Your wings are lovely, thank you so much. I can’t believe you did that for all these years.”

Another sob broke in his chest at the reminder. “But it’s not even the right- ”

“Shh,” Bucky said, arms tightening around him. “That doesn’t matter. I know it was for me. I’m sorry,” he said again. “I should have trusted you. I should have listened instead of storming off.”

Tony buried his face in Bucky’s shoulder, aware that he was getting Bucky’s fancy dress uniform wet. “I wanted to find you first, so I could tell you about the engagement myself. This was...not ideal,” he said, wrapping his arms tentatively around Bucky.

“I’ll say,” Bucky said. They stood there for a few minutes until Tony felt steadier and pulled away, wiping his cheeks on his sleeves, heedless of the expensive fabric. Bucky’s wings pulled back from their close embrace but still circled him, blocking out the view of the quiet street. “The design is lovely. I’d be honored for a chance to wear it one day,” he started, but Tony shook his head.

“No. Now that I’ve found you again, we should have a fresh start.” He looked down at the design with rueful sadness and folded his wings. “By the time I’ve shed these secondaries, I will be free of my burdensome betrothal and you and I can pick a new design. One that fits the people we are now, not the people we were then.”

Bucky smiled softly and cupped Tony’s cheek. “I think that’s a brilliant idea,” he said. “I want to court you properly this time, without having to hide.”

“I can’t wait,” Tony said, smile blinding.

                                             ******

One Year Later

"Look at that lovesick bastard, he isn't even listening to us."

When someone nudged his shoulder, Bucky pulled his eyes away from where he'd been watching Tony talk animatedly with one of his high society friends, wings and hands moving as he explained the mechanical principle that had captured his imagination this week, and turned his attention to his friends. After the first few hours of dancing and making conversation, they had claimed a table in the corner of the room and were steadily making their way through the stores of wine set aside for the wedding celebration. "When you say something worth listening to, maybe I will," he said loftily, taking another sip of the champagne that had been growing warm as he watched Tony.

"Dernier was just commending you on your wingspan, to fly so high in such a short time," Falsworth said, gesturing around them at the elaborately decorated hall that Tony had rented out to have their reception. Flowers spread their sweet scent from every table, with fine white linen and bone china place settings. Ladies and gentlemen in their colorful clothes looked like brightly colored birds as they tittered in conversation and spun around the dance floor.

Bucky scowled at the implication. "I would have loved Tony if all he had was the shirt on his back," he said, straightening, and Dernier held up his hands in preemptive surrender.

"Or perhaps better, with no shirt on his back," Dernier said with a wink. "But I meant no disrespect. You have flown through many storms to reach ton grand amour. But it is also good to finish your journey at a well-feathered nest, n'est-ce pas?"

"I think we all have done well feathering our nests," Rogers put in, hoping to head off an argument. They all had to nod at that, and toasted each other; raiding Napoleon's supply lines, including a particularly daring attack on an armored wagon carrying gold to pay the army's debts, had left them with a respectable nest egg which they had in turn invested well on Tony's advice.

"So what are you two planning to do next?" Dum-Dum asked, waiving down a server to get another plate of the hors d'oeuvres, adding to the stack of plates that were already on the table in front of him. "I can't see you doing this forever," he said as he gestured out to the crowd.

"Most definitely not," Bucky said, making a face. "We're planning to travel, actually. There has been some interesting developments in the field of electric energy in Paris and America that we are excited to investigate. Tony thinks that one day they will revolutionize manufacturing. Can you imagine using the power of lightning to run a loom or turn a mill?"

There was a moment of hesitation as his commandos stared at him blankly, then Gabe said, "I'm starting to see why these two fell in love. They're both barking mad," and Bucky crossed his arms over his chest huffily as everyone laughed.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he started, but Dum-Dum started speaking over him.

"Remember that time he tried to argue that if you got a big enough cannon, you could shoot a man out of it?"

"Oh I remember you volunteering to build the cannon if Bucky volunteered to climb inside," Morita said. "I haven't spent much time with Lord Stark, but he strikes me as a man who would definitely climb inside. You're right, they're definitely a perfect match."

"I thought it was a fine idea myself," Rogers said with an admirable poker face. "Much more efficient than flapping your wings, to be shot through the air like a cannonball."

"I wasn't necessarily saying we should do it, just that we could!" Bucky protested, but they all just kept laughing. "Fine," Bucky said with an exaggerated huff, draining his champagne. "Keep laughing. I'm going over to my husband who actually appreciates me." But as he turned away from the table, he was smiling; it was good to be around his friends after so much time going on obligatory visits and meetings with people obsessed with rank and social climbing and who said what to who.

When he reached Tony he ran a hand down his wings, still secretly thrilled that this was a thing he could do now, without fear of reproach or reprisal. An even greater thrill was how Tony turned to him with his brilliant smile like a flower turning towards the sun, and Bucky bent down for a kiss, remembering at the last minute to land it demurely on his cheek instead of on that smile.

"So this is him," one of the ladies standing with Tony said, studying him with one hand on her hip, looking amused. "The infamous James Barnes."

"Infamous?" Bucky repeated, baffled.

"Bucky, meet Ms. Jessica Jones. Jessica, you clearly need no introduction. Jessica was the detective that I had looking for you," Tony explained.

"I was running in circles all over Europe trying to pick up your trail," Jessica said testily, sounding more put out that she hadn't caught him than that she'd been put through the hassle. "Every now and then I would find someone who had met a mysterious group of Englishmen with one of them matching your description, but then you were off again."

"For years I had all sorts of gruesome nightmares that you had been shipped off to the West Indies, or put out in the wilderness to starve, or some other dire fate," Tony said. "Finding out that you were in the army was some small relief that at least Howard hadn't killed you outright."

Bucky bowed deeply to Jessica with a broad sweep of his wings. "Then though I must apologize for putting you through so much trouble, I can only be grateful for the role you played in bringing Tony and I back together," he said.

"Oh, there is no debt," she assured him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I made sure that Lord Stark paid me well for my trouble. In that sense, I must thank you for helping provide the money I needed to get my own company started."

"I'm sure I made many people rich looking for word of Bucky," Tony said dryly. "But I'd rather not speak of it now. You've had all the money you'll get out of me, because I don't plan to lose him again." At that, Tony spread out his wing and laid it atop Bucky's possessively, and Bucky was suddenly finished socializing.

"Don't you think it's getting pretty late, dear?" Bucky said, and with a frown Tony looked towards a window and saw that the sun was still up, if low in the sky. He turned to Bucky to protest but must have seen the turn of Bucky's thoughts written on his face because he closed his mouth and nodded.

"I am getting rather tired," he said unconvincingly, and dipped his head in farewell to Jessica. Bucky followed him as they went around the room and made their farewells, concealing his impatience, but when they were finally alone Bucky pulled him close and kissed him thoroughly as he'd been wanting to do all day. "I have a surprise for you," Tony murmured against his mouth, and wiggled out of Bucky's arms. "Close your eyes."

Bucky did and felt Tony's hands in his own, pulling him along. Bucky stumbled a little on uneven ground as he followed, then heard the creak of a door opening and felt the air and ground change as they stepped inside a building. Tony guided him through and put his hands on what felt like a ladder and told him to climb. Intensely curious, he did, feeling his way to his feet as he got to the top of the ladder and waited for Tony to join him. "Wait here," Tony instructed, and Bucky heard him walk to the other side of whatever room they were in before coming back. "Alright, open," Tony said.

Bucky opened his eyes and his face went slack with surprise. He knew this room well; it was the hayloft where he and Tony would sneak away to meet, where they'd spent their last golden hours together before Howard had ripped them apart. But instead of being full of hay covered only by a purloined blanket, smelling of horses and grass, the room had a bed in the corner, curtains on the windows and a thick carpet on the floor. On the wall, framed, was the copy of their old wing paint design that Bucky had carried with him for so long as well as the new design they'd chosen, beautifully sketched out by Rogers as a wedding gift. Tony himself was standing in front of him, wings and chest bare with a pair of paint pots in his hand, eyes shining. "This time, my love, it will be perfect," he said, handing Bucky one of the pots.

"Maybe," Bucky said, setting the pot to the side to frame Tony's face in his hands. "Maybe not. But we'll be together, and that's whats important," he added, leaning in for a kiss. He took the pot from Tony's hand and set it aside as well, then started walking him backwards towards the bed.

They didn't end up painting their secondaries until the morning, but neither minded; Bucky thought it was better anyway, because instead of painting their wings in darkness and the flickering light of a lantern, they did it in the bright light of morning and let the sun dry the paint as they tumbled through the sky together.

[ot3]

Sorry to bother - feel free to ignore. I’m trying to write an orv fic bc. I like them. And I’m having trouble understanding why with the regression depression it’s the happy memories that get yjh the most. Best I can figure it’s bc he can use the bad memories to propel him forward - like he’s doing this to avenge them. But the good memories force him to realize these people are gone and he’ll never see them again. Do you have any thoughts? Thanks!

i think that's definitely more or less accurate! i think the 'those people are gone and he'll never see them again' bit you've pointed out is the critical piece here. ill stick my further thoughts below the cut. this is really long because i've pulled a LOT of long chunks of text from the novel to shore up this point. i just got home from work so my thoughts are gonna be a little bit incoherent here. skip to the end if you're not interested in reading all the segments i pulled from the text. spoilers all the way up through chapter 508

first things first, let's just go back to the novel and look at all the bits where YJH's depression gets brought up

“Maybe Yoo Jonghyuk-nim has already repeated a few lives. You have fought against terrible enemies and struggled against the beings of this world to save people. Enduring alone, lonely memories… We respect your sublime spirit.”

This jerk, such skillful flattery. Yoo Jonghyuk would be moved to tears if he heard. Later when he was depressed, I would have to tell him these words.

“But Yoo Jonghyuk-nim should’ve realized it from your past regressions. Even if you have an outstanding miracle, you alone can’t fight against the disasters that will come.”

Plus, he was right.

- from ch 48

「 Everything is twisted because of this person. 」

「 It is different from what I know in the earlier regressions. The amount of information available is too limited. I can’t save the world like this. 」

What was this?

「 The reason I was hurt by the Salvation Church was because we spent too much time in the last round. It was a mistake to train for 100 years then. My mind was permanently damaged. 」

「 Maybe it was a mistake not to get the Absolute Throne.  」

「 I will start from the beginning again… 」

Dammit, the regressor’s depression had begun. Was it due to the mental attack? I cried out in fear of what he would decide. “I’m hurt you jerk!”

- from ch 140

「 Those people can’t save the world, even with 100 trucks. 」

「 Once again, the answer is regression… 」

“Now now, our Supreme King isn’t in a good mood right now so back off. Do you want to die?” I personally stepped forward to get rid of any causes of depression.

- later on in ch140 as well

This jerk, he was always so impatient. He had been given time to rest but he was still busy thinking. Regardless of his depressed state, Yoo Jonghyuk was Yoo Jonghyuk.

“Before that, let’s take a moment to breath. The view is great.” I said while sitting on the roof railing.

Yoo Jonghyuk asked me, “What are you up to?”

“I’m just looking at the world. Isn’t it beautiful?” The city of Seoul was destroyed by the monsters. I quickly added, “It was originally a beautiful place.”

“I don’t like landscapes.”

“Why?”

“They are things that will disappear someday.”

I thought I had a bit more understanding of the third regression Yoo Jonghyuk after fighting against Shin Yoosung. I wanted to believe he was a person who could love this world without giving up or feeling despair.

I told him, “However, we need to protect these things.”

“Kim Dokja, you don’t know.”

This might be my misunderstanding. Yoo Jonghyuk could give up at any time because he was still in the midst of his regressions.

In the end, Yoo Jonghyuk’s purpose was to prevent the ‘destruction of this world.’ Paradoxically, he could give up on this world at any time. His essence was regression and this fact would never change.

“No, I know,” I replied.

“What?”

“The fact that you can regress at any time means that death is meaningless.”

I looked down at Lee Seolhwa caring for the injured. Lee Seolhwa was feeding her boiled soup to an unknown person. Despite her efforts, there was a high probability that the character would die. Even if they lied now, they would die tomorrow. If they miraculously survived tomorrow, they would die the day after tomorrow.

It was the same in the fourth regression and the fifth regression. There would always be ‘death’ in the world of Yoo Jonghyuk, even after passing the 100th regression.

“If there is no sense of death then the value of life also disappears.”

- ch141

There was the vague belief that he could do better in the next round with more information. It was easy for him to give up on this regression if something went wrong.

This was the precursor symptom of ‘regression depression.’ Some of the contents of Ways of Survival passed through my head.

It was around the 48th regression. Yoo Jonghyuk had consulted with an incarnation of the constellation ‘Discoverer of the Subconscious’ on the ‘regression depression.’ At the time, he seemed to be speaking like I was now.

I continued speaking, “Yes. It might be as you say. If you repeat it 10 or 20 times then it will surely get better. You’ll be exposed to more scenarios and see more of the future. The real problem is when you someday save the world in this manner.”

“What does this mean?”

“At that time, do you really think you saved this world?”

“…”

“Do you think you will be able to keep the same mindset after repeating it 100 or 200 times?”

“I won’t regress that many times.”

I silently stared at Yoo Jonghyuk.

「 …Don’t tell me? 」 Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes slowly widened.

I kept speaking, “Are you having nightmares these days?”

“…”

“You won’t be saved, even if you save the world. The moment you save the world, the worlds you have forsaken will come to you. Despite saving one world, all the other worlds you abandoned will drag you to hell.”

- from further down in ch141

「 Yoo Jonghyuk felt lonely as he saw these watches. They got their time back but he still wasn’t

living in this time. Yoo Jonghyuk suddenly thought. If so, where do I live in those countless hours? 」

It was the monologue of Yoo Jonghyuk, who once saved the Demon World. It was also one of my favourite scenes from Ways of Survival.

I suddenly seemed to understand a bit of his mind. To the regressor Yoo Jonghyuk, the time in these worlds didn’t belong to him. In a life that could go back over and over again, the present time was meaningless.

Once this was over, I would ask Aileen to make me a watch. If he had something like this, he might become more attached to this world. Maybe the regression depression would get better…

- ch 207

A person who regressed more than a thousand times. A spirit that had become insensitive from the hundreds of suicides and tragedies that an individual could suffer. The extremely widespread regression depression…

「 Yoo Jonghyuk of the 1863rd round is the despair of the world itself. 」

- ch 285

Abnormal condition? There was no way. Who was the 1863rd regression Yoo Jonghyuk? This was Yoo Jonghyuk who was the Ruler of the East Hell and killed the Devil of Principles. There was no one among the constellations who could place an abnormal condition on the present Yoo Jonghyuk.

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes were blank.

I felt uncomfortable like something was stuck in my throat. No, there was. There was only one person who could cause an abnormal status in Yoo Jonghyuk.

+

* The target is suffering from ‘regression depression’ due to an unknown cause.

+

It was Yoo Jonghyuk himself.

Regression depression. The spirit of the man who had been broken over 1863 lives made the regression depression almost a passive, low level skill. Once he fell into the depression, his consciousness was caught in the weight of his memories and he couldn’t wake up.

[Kill him! He isn’t invincible!]

The ruthless strikes caused Yoo Jonghyuk’s body to bleed little by little. It was strange. Originally, the regression depression shouldn’t occur in this situation. In the 1863rd round, Yoo Jonghyuk had learnt how to manage this disease.

- ch 286

then this REALLY LONG BIT from 287. it has stopped letting me indent for some reason so i guess ill bold this.

I knew how to wake up Yoo Jonghyuk from his regression depression. In other words, it meant I also knew how to sink him deeper into that melancholy.

I saw Yoo Jonghyuk’s fingertips moving and opened my mouth. “Do you remember? The 33rd round. You cleared the 40th scenario and Lee Jihye said this.”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes dimmed and his moving fingertips stopped.

「 “It would be nice if Master didn’t have to go to the next round.” 」

“Think about it. You weren’t always unhappy. Right? In all the rounds, there were moments when you were happy.”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s expression was becoming stiffer.

“The 173rd round. You protected Earth for quite some time. You also saw Lee Jihye receiving her high school diploma and Lee Seolhwa smiling at someone’s child.”

「 “Jonghyuk-ssi, are you happy that you’re alive?” 」

Every time I spoke, Yoo Jonghyuk’s expression collapsed. It wasn’t despair that broke down Yoo Jonghyuk.

“The 383rd round. You finally cleared the 75th scenario. Fortunately, nobody died in that round. That was the first time. Then Lee Hyunsung told you.”

「 “Jonghyuk-ssi, I won’t forget today until I die.” 」

The feather-like memories sank into his head.

“Then the 498th round…”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s palms moved to cover his ears. The usual Yoo Jonghyuk wouldn’t have fallen from this much. Now it was different. I held his hands and kept talking. “That happened 10 times.”

A human sank deeper into the water just because of the weight of these feathers.

“Twenty times.”

My breath clogged up and my lungs tightened. I could feel what Yoo Jonghyuk was going through. Only I could feel it. The most primitive darkness at the bottom of one person was swallowing his ego greedily.

“100 times. It repeated over 1,000 times.”

All those words were destroyed. All the happy memories flowed back to a time they could never return to. Through the countless regressions, the meaning of happiness faded. All the values he preserved became pieces of torn paper.

“Yoo Jonghyuk.”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s self was sinking into the deep sea. It was to a place that he could never come up from without someone’s help.

“Have you protected all the things you wanted to keep?”

I looked at Yoo Jonghyuk’s miserable face and thought: Don’t worry Yoo Jonghyuk. I’ll do the rest. You stop and rest.

[Your understanding of the character ‘Yoo Jonghyuk’ is increasing explosively.]

Yoo Jonghyuk’s empty eyes were showing memories of losing his master. I didn’t use Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint but it wasn’t hard to read.

「 I want to die. 」

「 I want to finish all of this. 」

「 If only I can never wake up. 」

A few drops of rain fell from the sky. It was black rain made from the blood of the demon kings and constellations. Liquid also flowed onto Yoo Jonghyuk’s face. Yoo Jonghyuk’s gaze lowered and finally fell on me.

I was looking at the moment a human’s spirit collapsed. There was a broken voice. Like a creaking machine, Yoo Jonghyuk stammered, “Wh,at… should, I, d…o?”

i think this one is obviously very important.

then, the 'have you protected all you wanted to protect' stuff obviously reaches its culmination in the finale

⸢The regression depression.⸥

That was the only weakness of Yu Jung-Hyeok, who had repeatedly regressed for a very long time.

[In the 173rd turn. You managed to protect Earth for a pretty long time. You got to see Yi Ji-Hye receive her high school diploma, and you even got to see Yi Seol-Hwa smile with another’s child in her arms.]

The light in Yu Jung-Hyeok’s eyes was wavering.

⸢It wasn’t despair that could defeat Yu Jung-Hyeok.⸥

⸢Small feather-like memories settled down inside his head one by one.⸥

The ‘Dokkaebi King’ was using the exact same method I relied on back then.

⸢The breathing got harder, and the lungs were getting tighter.⸥

⸢A man drowning in water would sink even deeper under the surface from the weight of a mere feather.⸥

I couldn’t afford to idly watch on anymore. I shouted at Yu Jung-Hyeok, telling him to wake up, and not to fall for such an illusion.

However, my voice couldn’t reach them as if a non-conductive barrier was set up between us. And the ‘Dokkaebi King’ was smiling away, perhaps to mock this entire story.

[Yu Jung-Hyeok, have you protected all that you wanted to protect?]

Slowly, Yu Jung-Hyeok’s knees sank down.

I roused the Status of Fables. I needed to undo that ⸢Stage Transformation⸥ right now, But, how should I…

Grab.

There was a hand still tightly clutching mine. It was Han Su-Yeong.

“That’s not a battle you can interfere in.”

“But, if he’s left alone….!”

“….Even a star that can’t be seen still emits light. You said that, right?”

….A star that can’t be seen?

Her words made me look back at Yu Jung-Hyeok once more.

His gaze being lowered had come to a stop. Blinding sparks were completely enveloping him.

Tsu-chuchuchuchu….

Something was waking up his fading consciousness.

[Great Fable, ‘Ones that Remember the Apocalypse’, has begun its storytelling!]

That was a Fable I wasn’t aware of.

As the sparks lessened gradually, several silhouettes revealed themselves. Now that I took a closer look, Yu Jung-Hyeok wasn’t alone. No, four others were standing beside him.

A tall man, a young man with blonde hair, a girl with a ponytail, and finally…

[[He couldn’t protect anyone. That’s why he now stands in this place.]]

….An Archangel with blindingly-pure wings.

Astonishment quickly dyed the Dokkaebi King’s expression.

The Fable from the destroyed 999th turn was now burning brightly like the conflagration of end times on the edges of the Archangel’s blade.

[[Because he believes there are still things left to protect.]]

- from ch 508

Now here's a couple of tidbits about depression when it comes up for Other entities:

The fastest thing to get shaved away after becoming a Constellation was their own ‘Fable’. The more a Constellation depleted its story, the weaker its power would get. They would grow bored, disinterested, fall into depression, or lose themselves in tedium.

Constellations would desperately seek out other Fables in order to escape from such a quagmire. In other words, they would search for a new tragedy to escape from this horrible eternal cycle, even if it was only for a brief moment.

- ch 498

⸢[Constellation, ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’s’ ■■ is ‘Something that can’t be found’.]⸥

I had read what his ■■ was from the original novel. His description showed up when he became Yu Jung-Hyeok’s ally for a little while during the 1863rd turn.

⸢The evil dragon suffering from the worst possible depression in this <Star Stream>.⸥

The reason why the ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ believed his age to be 15 was simply that he’d not be able to continue on if he didn’t.

A life stretching for thousands, no, tens of thousands of years, made an originally solitary dragon into such a creature.

In order to stop itself from decaying, he chose not to age. He chose not to lose his curiosity of the world. He chose to torment Incarnations or play bizarre pranks. And for his final prank, he even chose to betray the ‘Absolute Evil’, too. He stood on Yu Jung-Hyeok’s side and while mocking the <Star Stream>, breathed his last.

- ch 503

okay so

i think there are a couple of different ways to look at the regression depression in line with each of orv's 'themes'. of course despair at losing his comrades is the main primary emotion here, but there's subtler stuff going on here too.

for starters, the foundational components of any creature within the star stream is its stories. the more your stories are known and shared the more powerful they are, etc, etc. time and time again their shared stories are the thing to save them and ground them. but as we see with the hellscape of eternity, yjh begins to become isolated from the interpersonal aspect of the story as he loses the people he originally formed these stories with. the stories are how people communicate. as YJH progresses through his regressions he is unable to relate to the 'story' in the way you are supposed to, and this essentially causes a complete ego death. life no longer has any meaning for him, because he is fundamentally incapable of connecting with people. the [impossible communication] of a life and a burden that can't be shared.

then there's the [samsara] aspect - being worn down by the endless repetition of fate. everything is the same, over and over again, and yet we still delve into it hoping to get something new out of it. maybe the story will be different this time. ABFD was able to stave off depression by keeping himself in a state of permanent novelty - there was still something left to discover - but as YJH progresses through the regressions and falls deeper and deeper into repeating the same pattern, the tedium becomes too much. he has nothing new to experience. he has repeated everything this reality has to offer - or so he thinks - and it shows no sign of ever changing. if it's the same every time, why stick around? why not go again? it doesn't matter. none of it matters. you are just part of the wheel.

and if we think of it in terms of [good and evil] we see yjh slowly become something that almost any human being would call a monster. as kdj says in that conversation with anna croft near the end, "can you really call someone a human if you have to look so hard to find their humanity?" as far as it goes. yjh commits some atrocities! Because of said aforementioned removal from reality and ego death, he is able to fully justify any action it takes no matter how horrendous. and yet his noble goal never changes. undeniably, what he is by the end is some sort of monster. but still, of course, just a man. and he knows this. he feels himself slipping a little bit more, every regression. he knows its coming. and he doesn't want it. he wants to maintain his humanity.

but really i think we can almost best think of yjh's regression depression as almost his equivalent to the [fourth wall]. whereas the 4th wall is a unique passive skill that protects kim dokja by preventing him from fully conceptualizing what's happening to him as 'reality', the regression depression harms yjh by preventing him from conceptualizing what's happening to him as 'reality'. in a sense, his friends and loved ones have almost become 'characters' to him as well, as he already knows the way this story happens. he is an outsider, observing these beings interact with each other but not quite the same as them. he is an anachronism. this isn't his present. this is a present, one he can take or leave at any time. the thing yjh does in his later regressions - using people as tools - is something kdj does in the beginning of his journey. because, well, it doesnt matter if this isn't the 'real world'! they mirror each other.

that ended up being so much longer than i thought it would im sorry. i hope this was even like 10% helpful.

[mira--mira]

Hi! I was wondering

How do you think Hashirama and Madara would be in a Road to Ninja version?

I remember once reading a Hashimada fic (which I never finished RIP) that was about Madara appearing in the RTN universe and the 3 things that stucked with me were:

1.- Madara was the first Hokage (something that Madara thought was horrible when he saw his sculpted face on the Hokage mountain 🤣)

And personally I think that it would not have been like that even in the RTN universe because we didn't see his face along with the other faces of Hokages in the movie (Yeah, apparently I'm basing myself on a movie which I'm not even sure if it's canon or not, even though Kishimoto wrote it) and the RTN characters didn't seem to even know who Madara is.

2.- Hashirama having his bowlcut as an adult

And I agree with the Madara from that fanfic, it looks awful on him. Hashirama, babe, I'm sorry but the only ones who can rock that style are Guy Sensei and Rock Lee, I know you just were trying to be cool but it doesn't suite you.

3.- Tobirama was a porn writer

Instead of being a fan of forbidden jutsu and creating justus, he wrote porn novels a la Jiraiya. And I'll hold that headcanon with my dead hands.

The only other fanfic that places the founders in the RTN universe is one where the protagonist is Mito (it's an interesting one-shot that pairs her with Itama 🤔)

She was kind of a shy person 🤔? And so it was Tobirama 🤣 which I found fun.

Hashirama, as the first fanfic I mentioned, was the Tobirama of the place (saddenly Madara wasn't in this fic).

So I would like to know what are your versions of the founders (or only Hashirama and Madara if it is too much) in the RTN universe! And how do you think things would be

Hmm, RTN is an interesting concept to me but, to be honest, I don't think Konoha would exist if a lot of personalities got flipped 😂 I haven't read any RTN fics with the founders, but if you, or anyone else, have links at hand I'd love to check them out 👀

1. Madara

Here's the big one and the crux of why I don't think the village would exist. Typically I characterize Madara as an extremely responsible man who internalizes things when he shouldn't, takes himself way too seriously, is aggressive and abrasive even to people he loves sometimes, but genuinely loves the people closest too him. Reversing this would make a character that slacks off, takes no responsibility, and is completely passive in life and has fleeting attachments to others around him. Assuming he wouldn't die on the battlefield, I could see the RTN "alternate" personality coming about of Madara's being so overpowered and competent that he loses interest and distances himself from things before he can get attached and lose them.

It makes building a village very hard though. (At first I was tempted to go RTN Sasuke route and maybe RTN!Madara is a little more openly flirty than canon!Madara, but the passivity and refusal to take responsibility would be the "core" qualities for me.)

2. Hashirama

Hashirama is a bit weird because he has a lot of surface-level "conflicting" traits in canon. He is optimistic but he pushes beyond his natural attitude and uses it as a mask to hide instead of addressing his feelings. He's mischievous, likes jokes and games, and can be a bit hedonistic with his pleasure but can equally be serious when necessary and will willingly sacrifice for others around him. And simultaneously, Hashirama and Madara are connected by a shared sense of idealism but also anger. Hashirama is a very kind, but extremely angry, man. I think a RTN!Hashirama would share a kind of apathy of RTN!Madara but instead of passivity his lack of anger would manifest as cruelty. Because canon!Hashirama is angry but his anger is usually a righteous kind. I don't think RTN!Hashirama would go out of his way to be cruel, but he doesn't have the empathy of canon!Hashirama, especially to others' suffering. He enjoys fighting just a bit too much and has no qualms about killing. In his mind, he should always come first in any situation and prioritizing (or even considering) others' is effort and him going out of his way to be "nice" and the other should be thankful. Similarly if he feels any negative emotion, he won't bottle it up and swallow it down, he'll immediately address it, usually confrontationally. RTN!Hashirama is as intelligent as his canon counterpart but he doesn't suffer fools and he hates it when people underestimate him. He's pretty proud and vain, tbh.

I really don't think the above would make him the "Tobirama" of RTN verse. To me Hashirama and Tobirama have different core values and perspectives and inverting Hashirama's doesn't make it become Tobirama's, if that makes sense. This one is also wordy bc I immediately knew how RTN!Madara would be RTN!Hashirama is a bit harder to pin down. But I hope it's clear why I have doubts about the village existing...maybe if RTN!Hashirama got it in his mind as a pet project for the hell of it, that he'd be a better leader for the country and not just the Senju alone, and RTN!Madara liked the idea of no responsibility and being able to detach even further than he already was? But that's still kind of grasping for a reason.

3. Hashimada

Equally I think any Hashirama/Madara relationship would be ehhh. They definitely wouldn't have the overwhelming bond of their canon counterparts, and it could be a relationship ripe for unhappiness. The closest I can think of to making the ship work is RTN!Madara would be drawn to Hashirama's absurd level of self-confidence and able to let the casual cruelty slide off instead of getting worked up about it. In a way RTN!Hashirama is stable and predictable. If he's pretty overpowered, there's less of a chance RTN!Madara would lose him, so their relationship isn't deep but it's more or less dependable and Madara knows exactly what he's going to get. In contrast RTN!Hashirama has an audience in the form of RTN!Madara and a partner that's not going to push back against his ideas. RTN!Madara doesn't ask for much and he doesn't complain when RTN!Hashirama puts himself first. He doesn't want, or might not be capable of, the deep emotional bond their canon counterparts have. RTN!Madara wouldn't leave Konoha (if it existed) in the AU, because he doesn't really care. If someone upset RTN!Hashirama and he decided to leave to 'do it right' RTN!Madara would probably follow, maybe out of some loyalty for RTN!Hashirama but mostly because it's what's easiest.

4. Tobirama

The core of Tobirama's character to me is prioritizing logic over emotion and both a conscious and unconscious failure to realize he can't completely eliminate emotion. Tobirama loves his brother, he's curious and has a desire to find out what makes things work and is willing to bend morality to get results if it'll serve a greater good. He's very aware of the unfairness of the world but believes it's an unspoken truth of humanity and can only be mitigated through logical means, but never completely erased. He'll be the sacrificial lamb, the one that works in shadows so his brother can have his utopian dream. Despite everything, he loves his genin, the strongest bonds he has aside from Hashirama, and does try to instill in them lessons he think will help them and lead to peace and stability in the village. He's still influenced by the prejudices of his time and can never find it in him to truly forgive the Uchiha.

A RTN!Tobirama would be a man ruled by emotion. Him writing erotica all day definitely could be one way this manifests lol. But overall he's sensitive and spiritual and can't stand the idea of killing. He and RTN!Hashirama don't get along and he actively tries to avoid his brother. RTN!Tobirama has equally strong principles as canon!Tobirama, but they're pacifist in nature and while he likes his studies, he prefers to be out talking to people and learning from them first hand. He's very naive and can be easily taken advantage of and he has trouble focusing on any one thing for too long. No matter how many times this happens, he never can harden his heart or be overly suspicious of others. RTN!Tobirama would most likely be the one support peace in this AU. He embraces the Uchiha and all the Senjus past enemies with open arms, almost to a foolish degree. It'd be a bad idea if he became hokage in this AU because he's a terrible negotiator and has a bad people-pleasing streak and struggles with long-term tactics. With the exception of RTN!Hashirama, who he considers an aberration who doesn't have a soul, humans at their core all have good intentions at heart.

5. Mito

I characterize Mito as a very level-headed woman. Her marriage to Hashirama is political in nature but they grow to be good friends and she never expected to fall in love and she's glad Hashirama didn't want a traditional wife. Mito is devoted to her community work (she works hands-on with people in the village), she seeks out connections with others and, despite the distance, remains close with her family in Uzushio, constantly writing them letters. She's spiritual and follows the Uzumakis' beliefs (not gonna list this OoT spoiler lol) and studies fuinjutsu in her spare time, something she's done since she was a child. She is willing to sacrifice if it meant protecting something she considered greater than herself, much to her own personal detriment. She loves and is proud of her children and grandchildren, but if she had a choice, she would have chosen to remain childless, she finds her true calling elsewhere.

RTN!Mito, similarly to RTN!Tobirama, is ruled by emotions. She dreams of one day making a good marriage for herself and centers romance and being a mother as her ideal life, but she's extremely picky when it comes picking the perfect husband. RTN!Mito knows how much she's worth and she refuses to settle and will not even entertain the idea of an arranged marriage. She has a hard time forming long-lasting, deep bonds with other people and views starting her own family as the solution to this problem. At times she can be a bit absent-minded and unintentionally selfish, but she's not actively malicious. She blusters a lot and depending on the situation can come off as cold and uncaring, but it's only to hide the depth of her true feelings and loneliness. In this AU she would absolutely refuse to marriage RTN!Hashirama. Nothing on hell or earth, could make her change her mind.

Mito is such a blank-slate character it feels like writing an oc more than a canon character, tbh. And this is something I don't see brought up a lot but a "heart full of love" to combat the kyuubi's hatred to me has never been exclusive to romantic or familial (to children) love. *cough* I want a complex female character who's not vilified for not wanting to have children and/or regretting having them *cough* Mito's "love" was for the people of Konoha and Uzushio. My personal headcanon regarding her and Hashirama's child (I don't think she had more than one) was that she was dedicated to her son, but quickly realized being a mother wasn't her dream or something she even actively liked. The kid was well-cared for and she was dutiful towards him, but Hashirama was the parent that loved and embraced him with his whole heart and it led to some tension between Mito and her son as the kid could tell the difference and neither of them were "wrong" to feel the way they did. This is why Tsunade was shown with Hashirama instead of Mito, he was a lot more present in her life when she was young (instead of Kishi just not having made Mito as a character yet). But after Hashirama and Tsunade's dad died (and then Nawaki), she and Mito grew close but it was definitely more of a friendship or student/mentor relationship rather than a traditional grandmother/granddaughter relationship but both were satisfied with it and loved eachother. Likewise I didn't want RTN!Mito's characterization to be shallow and hit misogynistic undertones with her being an "opposite" to Mito's calm, level-headed, focused on her work/passions characterization.

6. Closing thoughts

#1: Wow this got long #2: I feel conflicted about RTN because it seemed to flip surface-level characteristics instead of deep characterizations, and ignored flaws altogether. The ones above, esp. Hashirama and Madara's, are kind of dark in a way? But that's the only way it makes sense to me...Gai and Lee caring about style and being stylish is a funny joke but if you were to actually poke and prod and say their personalities were inverted, neither of them would be top-notch ninja as we know...unless I'm just completely misremembering RTN because I realize it's been years since I saw it lol. Anyway, hope this was entertaining!

[queenbeean]

she's mine / ari levinson

werewolf au

author’s note: fic for @lielullabye 500 challenge, congratulations💕(this is a repost of my work) dedicated to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork love you amber💕

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual harassment, threats

prompts: slight beauty and the beast au; werewolf!ari x mate!reader

read please: this is an alternate universe with ari levinson, in this fic there’s no RSDR, no guy thomas, just the man with the same principles and ideals; also, my knowledge on werewolf dynamics is limited, i’m writing this with what i know from what i’ve read before

“Why do you hate her so much?” Sam asked Ari. They were coming back from yet another successful battle against rogues. Those wolves were tormenting packs all around the state and Ari made it his mission to help as many packs as he could. But the rogues were still coming, they were relentless.

“I don’t hate her.” He grumbled.

Ari didn’t want a mate. Simple as that. He didn’t want to deal with caring about someone who had the power to kill him. He was fine with saving packs from being murdered by rogues. That was his mission in life. No getting distracted.

Until she came along. Until he saved her.

Ari wanted to despise her. He needed to hate her.

Why couldn’t he just bring himself to reject her?

He had tried so many times. It would be so easy to go up to her, reject her and be free of their so called bond. The human in him didn’t want to be cruel. But he couldn’t allow himself to care for her, for anybody. That was the animalistic part of him. Because the wolf part of him wanted nothing more than to be her mate.

Still he couldn’t do it.

“Okay, then. Let me rephrase.” Sam chuckled, making Ari grit his teeth. “Why do you dislike her so much?”

“Can we not do this right now? I’m tired.”

“We never do this. You are always tired when it comes to her. Funny because she’s as quiet about you whenever I ask her.”

Ari’s head whipped so fast in Sam’s direction. “So now you are talking to her?” He demanded to know, his Alpha voice coming through. He didn’t know why Sam talking to her was making his blood boil.

Sam’s laugh boomed. It was so easy riling him up when it came to Y/N. “So what if I am?” He taunted.

Ari stopped the car, tires screeching on the pavement, making the cars behind struggle to stop as well. He got out of the car and before going to Sam’s side, he mind-linked his wolves.

“Everybody get to the house, now!”

The first driver resumed driving and the rest followed. The Alpha’s orders were clear. They wouldn’t want to disobey in any way, especially with an angry Alpha.

Ari opened Sam’s door and took him out by his shirt. “She’s a really nice girl, Ari.” Sam continued his teasing. If Ari wasn’t so angry, he’d realise what Sam’s intentions were. He would also know that Sam meant no harm and would never disrespect Y/N nor his Alpha. “Why are you so worked up over me and her?”

Ari dropped him and Sam took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Back at the pack house, Ari walked in with his mind set on someone. His pack bowed in respect and in other circumstances, he would nod in acknowledgement but he was on a mission. He opened door, making young wolves whimper in fear, something he regretted instantly. He tried calming himself down but the she and Sam would pop into his mind.

At last he found her. The sight in front of him doing something to his heart. Y/N was sitting with a book in her hands, the pages showing cartoon wolves. Around fifteen toddler wolves were sitting in front of her, their attention on the captivating woman telling the story. Her hands moving gracefully and her words smooth as honey.

“Fuck.” Ari muttered under his breath. Y/N gasped, letting him know that she had heard and so would the younglings would have if they weren’t so captured by the story. Their eyes locked and she looked away first, intimidated by his hard stare. “Y/N, a word.” She nodded in acknowledgement and closed the bedtime story.

Simultaneous whines came from the young wolves. “It’s time to sleep. We can finish tomorrow.” She said in a soft voice and Ari cursed in his mind. He stepped aside as the wolves dragged their feet towards their respective rooms. Ari let out a small chuckle at the sight. “How can I help you?” His head snapped in her direction and instinctively took a step back, something as an Alpha he shouldn’t have done. Weakness. Exactly why he didn’t want a mate. Especially a beautiful one with a voice like velvet.

Y/N bowed her head and took two steps back when Ari did that. He hasn’t officially rejected her yet but she knew it would nearly kill her whenever he did. It was already painful and he had only put some space between them. It was a ticking bomb that he was handing her and she no choice but to accept it.

Ari swallowed hard as he realised what he made her feel but then Sam’s words sounded in his mind again. “Why have you been talking to Sam?” No, he wasn’t beating around the bush. He needed to know with urgency what was going between his Beta and his very own mate.

“What do you mean?” Y/N sounded genuinely confused.

Ari groaned. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N. He told me you two have been talking and I want to know why.” He didn’t realise he had walked into her personal space until there was nothing else he could smell but her. And it was maddening.

“Alpha,” Y/N whispered, feeling her heart beating worryingly fast and her wolf clawing for a way out, ready to be with her mate.

The way his title sounded coming out of her lips pushed him to the edge. In a swift movement, he carefully pushed her against the wall and kissed her. His lips were devouring her and she tried her best to keep up with him. As an Alpha, she knew he had the upper hand when it came to dominating her. And she loved it. The way his hands were firmly but gently cupping her cheeks until they needed air. Then one of his hands left to cup the back of her neck and the other to wrap around her waist. His hot breath fanned from his cheek, her jaw to her neck and shoulder as he placed open-mouthed kisses all over every inch of skin. She could do nothing but run her hands through his long hair, the feel of his silky strands were driving her crazy. And she gripped them tight when she felt his canines rubbing the place where her neck met her shoulder, what would be her marking spot.

As soon as Ari felt her tensing, he came to his senses and pulled away. His eyes locked with hers and his heart hurt when he saw the fresh tears gathering.

Y/N pushed herself off the wall and walked past Ari.

“Don’t take another step, Y/N.” He didn’t know what to tell her though, he didn’t know if he could succumb to her. She stopped, she couldn’t disobey direct orders from the Alpha, from her Alpha, her mate.

Ari saw her lips trembling but he couldn’t bring himself to move and get her in his arms. And he didn’t try stopping her when she moved. He just saw how she walked away from him, hurting him in the process.

Y/N ran out of the pack house all the way to the river a couple of miles into the woods. She knew he wasn’t following her but her body could still feel him. Then she yanked her clothes off and shifted, hoping that running would make him disappear from her thoughts. She needed to brace herself, harden her heart for when the time came that he would reject her. Because he had said so. Just waiting for the right time.

/

Ari’s wolf was going crazy. There was too much distance between him and his mate. The only thing that Ari staying put was knowing she was still in his territory. The patrolling wolves of that night let him know that she was safe. And as much as he hated it, Sam offering to keep her company kept his mind at peace.

He knew his resolution was crumbling but there was so much at stake for him. A few minutes with her had him losing focus. Nothing else existed but them. How was he supposed to care for an entire pack when he lost himself in her.

“Alpha Levinson.”

Ari looked up to the door and his blood boiled. Gabe Ashton was the type of wolf that shouldn’t be an Alpha. Ruthless, merciless and cocky. Had been tormenting wolves for years but without proof there was nothing much Ari could do to stop him. It didn’t help that he had an army of trained and loyal killers that somehow helped rogues destroy entire packs.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ari stood up and tried moving forward when Gabe presented a gun and pointed at him.

Gabe tsked. “Be smart, Ari. I came in peace, I promise.” His smile was taunting.

“What do you want?” Ari gritted through his teeth.

“I have a proposition for you and you will accept it.” Gabe grinned maniacally. “I’ve been planning for months. You have a nice pack. Strong wolves. Pretty she-wolves. You have pretty much everything. Last I heard you were only missing a mate to have the perfect pack…”

“Sam, get Y/N back to the house. Now!”

“I’ve been planning your destruction and today, something made me realise that I didn’t have to plan so much. I don’t even have to do much. You have a weakness but then again, you are not even that strong. Ari Levinson, the mighty Alpha, but are you really?”

“What do you want, Gabe?” Ari repeated, his hands fisted and his face red. Nobody threatened him or what was his.

“How’s that pretty new wolf of yours, your mate? You know, I saw her shift earlier. Got the whole show for myself. It’s funny. I didn’t catch any scent that would indicate she’s been claimed, she was reeking of you but no mark on her soft neck…” Gabe taunted, waving his hand in front of Ari. “Since you don’t seem to care about her, what about I mate her? I wonder how she would look under me as I make her mine-”

Ari lost it. He grabbed Gabe by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Gun going off before dropping to the floor.

“One more word out of you and I’ll fucking end you.” He threatened. “She’s my mate, you hear me. Mine!”

Sam burst into the room. “Ari, Y/N… she’s gone.” Sam’s voice was frantic.

Gabe chuckled and Ari growled.

“Oops, too late I guess.”

[photonromance]

BobaDin [Soothed] {Omegaverse}

This fight was not going well. They darted him toward the end, a sharp little microdart that was slamming through his bloodstream and wiping out every trace of decades of hormone suppressants

He killed them.

Bloody vibroblade clenched so tight his gloves creaked, he cut and sliced and shot his way through leering faces making threats as his scent began shifting in the dozen seconds after the dart struck

The filth they spat at him was- Din shook his head to clear it. The disgusting creatures were dead. That's what mattered. He shook his head again, the fog still thick. He was in trouble. Din fumbled the pouch at his thigh, digging for the hypo he knew lay there.

Except it wasn't. The hypo slipped from shaking fingers and clattered across the floor. Kriff. His head was swimming. The hypo blurred, doubling as Din struggled to focus.

From the shadows, a pair of boots stepped out, unfamiliar but definitely local. "Oh, you'll do more than nicely." The voice was modulated, a vocoder, and Din blinked once more before the darkness swallowed him up.

Din came to in a fog. His hands were bound behind him, bad news, but his feet were free, even if they were made of lead at the moment. There was an arm hooked under each of his, forcing his shoulders up and apart and it was painful, even if the pain felt disconnected. They were dragging him. Din’s head lolled and, kriff but he was messed up not to notice immediately, he realized his helmet was missing. There was cool air on his face, but it felt tender, like he had been in the sun. Stars, how long had he been out? Been bare? He ducked his head drunkenly, an instinct long worn in to protect himself from prying eyes.

"Little late for that, pretty boy," the same modulated voice from before spoke again, "You'll probably have a nasty sunburn from the ride back, but I dont think Fett will mind. He doesn't need you too pretty."

They were going to Fett?

They had parted on good enough terms, Din had thought? Had something changed? 

He was so foggy. 

Had he forgotten something? Stars. He'd been lucky enough to avoid any heat drugs up to now, so it was possible? Maybe? The drug had turned his head dizzy and his blood thick and it was a struggle to remember where he'd been before this-

Ah-

Din had heard of heat drugs. Who hadn't? He knew, in principle, that they triggered hormonal changes with small doses in the dart. The more suppressants in the victim's body, the harder the turnaround was on them. Hence Din’s long spate unconscious. He'd been suppressing for years at this point. Here came the reason his body had chosen unconsciousness.

Pain began growing in his lower abdomen, from a twinge to a firestorm. He drew his knees up, desperate to soothe the ache tearing at him. "Stop that." One of the goons holding his arm kicked at his knee, drawing a ragged sound from Din.

"Don't worry," the modulated voice spoke again, mockingly, "Fett will handle that for you."

There was muffled noise, people talking and soft music, and the sound only made Din hyper aware of his bare face. The pain in his belly spiked and Din tried again to curl up, to put pressure on what felt like an aching wound. The goon kicked him again, laughing. "Do you think he'll share?" 

The other asked pinched Din’s chin to try and force his face up. "After he's done? Nah, you know how Mando are. Always fighting, but they're possessive. I heard there was a Marshall out by-"

"Shut up!" The modulated voice cut in and there was a shift of something heavy, a door? And a slice of light cut into the dark hallway.

Din flinched away from the brightness, flushing with humiliation as he was hauled forward into the light, face bare and hormones rank. He knew he was a sight. 

He hoped Boba killed him quickly if this was some slight Din didn't remember. 

The talking fell from a mild chatter to near dead silence in a moment. The music died even quicker. Din was thrown forward, tripping over his own boots, and landed face first into the stone floor. At least the stone was cool. Another pain was blooming fast and Din curled up against it, breath hitching as he struggled to remember all the training he'd been taught. Breathe through the pain, accept it, hold it, let it go. It was harder than he remembered.

Above him, there was a shift, boots against stone. 

"We bring-" the Modulated voice began, before it was cut off by a single blaster bolt. Something thumped to the ground nearby. Din focused harder on breathing as his abdomen began to relax again. Stars, had it always been so bad?

Behind him, there was shouting, a fight? But it was over in moments. The sounds of boots dragging over stone as the two goons were hauled off. Above him, the light was blocked out suddenly.

"Did they hurt you?"

It's Boba. Din would know that voice anywhere. "Heat drug-" he slurred, trying to raise his face from the ground.

"I know, hush now."

Something tugged- his cape? And the world went dim and soft. Boba had pulled his cape up, over his head. 

To cover his face. 

He wasn't mad? 

Then why- oh but none of that mattered. Boba was bundling Din up, slicing his arms free with a blade before hefting him with an arm around his shoulders and an arm under his knees.

"Hold on."

Din nodded, oblivious to the fact Boba couldn't see it under the cloth. They walked that way a while, Din slowly focusing as the pain faded once more. When he had a moment of clarity, he asked, panicked, "Fett, my helmet-"

"The idiot was holding it. Someone will bring it up shortly, don't worry." Boba spoke in short bursts, voice pinched and even.

It took Din several moments to realize why.

"Kriff, Boba, I'm so sorry, I- Ah!"

He was cut off in his apology by pain again blooming in his belly, faster now than before. He curled again, jostling Boba's hold.

"Hang on-" Boba shifted Din’s weight, keying open a door before hurrying in.

The door locked audibly behind them and Boba lay Din gently on something soft. A bed, obviously but- his bed. It was obvious by the heady scent of Alpha and the spiced sweet scent of blaster oil. This was Boba's bed. 

"Boba, no-" 

"Hush." 

Stars. His voice was gentle but firm and Din wanted to roll over and show his belly. He felt pathetic.  

"I’m sorry," Boba followed the words immediately, soft and apologetic, running his fingers over Din’s head, over curls covered by cloth, "I won't use the voice." He picked up Din’s arm, laying at his side, and began unbuckling his vambrace, slipping his finger under Din’s shirt to begin rubbing the feeling back into the muscle. "I have someone bringing suppressants," Boba soothed, rubbing circles in the skin of his wrist, "until then, I need you to tell me what to do, Din. Can you do that?"

Tell- Boba? What to do? It struck something wrong in Din’s chest. He whimpered, his free hand rising up to grab at Boba's bicep. "I can't-"

"You can." Boba promised, lacing his fingers with Din’s loosely, "I've seen what you can do, Din. You are Mando'ade. You are not just your nature. I know it hurts. Show me the warrior." 

Din swallowed, closing his eyes despite his cloak covering. "Okay." He took a slow breath through his mouth, fighting the intensity of Boba's scent all around him. "I need the suppressants but- it won't be enough." 

"Any Alpha you desire is yours." 

Din shook his head. "I haven't- I'm not comfortable-" 

"I can provide toys?" Boba suggested, returning to slow circles on Din’s wrist with his free hand.

"Hold me?" Din asked, regretting the tremble in the words the moment he said them, but it needed saying, "I need you to- just hold me. Until it passes. And then- then maybe- but- not like this." 

Boba is quiet for a long time. But the circles continue, so Din doesn't stop breathing just yet. Boba's scent is thick with arousal, and his restraint is frankly impressive. But if this is just a reaction to a heat, then Din won't get his hopes up. 

“If you promise to eat,” Boba says slowly, helmet tipping to the side as he considered, “and let me take care of you, to soothe my nature, I’ll agree.”

Din hardly needs convincing. “Kriff yes.”

Boba dips his head slightly, pressing his helmet to Din’s forehead, under the cloak. “We’ll talk about this, after. You know that, right?” He asks softly. 

Din is silent for a long moment. “I think I would like that,” he admits, pushing himself up slightly into the touch before he collapses back on the bed, gasping as pain begins to claw at his belly again. 

“I’ll call for those meds.”

Boba is gone for just a moment, rumbling into his comm as he undresses quickly, efficiently. “That doctor we freed? See if she has any hypos to spare.” His helmet thumps onto the table, boots kicked off. When his trousers hit the floor, Din’s cock twitches, desperate for a little confirmation of what’s to come. 

“No,” Din huffs to himself, turning over to fumble his armor off in turn. If Boba does it, his body won’t let him rest after, he knows it. An Alpha touching him, undressing him- ah Kriff. Din stifled a whine, shucking his trousers and peeling his shorts off with a whimper. He was sticky. Between  his cock drooling absently against the front and slick beginning to drip to his thighs with each cramp, his shorts were soaked. “I- ah- hope you aren't’ fond of these sheets,'' He joked, fighting the urge to hide in a shell of silence. 

“Sheets be damned.” Boba was returning, climbing up onto the bed, down to his own underclothes. He knelt there at the edge of the bed, studying his new bedmate. “You’re sure you’ve never done this?” he asked, head cocking to the side curiously, “You’re damned beautiful.”

Din laughed, a huff of breath as he moved to lift the cloak. Pulling it back, he looked up at Boba with bare eyes for the first time. "Still think so?" He asked, a nervous smile tugging at his lips.

"Moreso." Boba opened his arms, offering everything Din needed. 

Stripping out of his shirt, Din crawled across the bed, slotting himself chest to chest with Boba and nuzzling into the side of his neck with a broken little noise. The ache in his belly began, fluttering as Din squeezed Boba as tight as his arms allowed and Boba returned the pressure just as intensely. The pressure, the weight of an Alpha's scent, along with the knowledge that Boba was resisting for him, sent a rush of endorphins through Din’s blood, steadying the pain and even, thankfully, easing it.  

Din could do this. They could do this. 

"Together." Boba promised.

[strikethematch18]

Dadzawa x F! Reader - Over Worked & Tired Part 2

After your shower which made you feel a little better than before as the act of cleaning the accruing sweat and radiating germs from your body. Your next step was hoisting yourself out of the shower base and to a position you can dry your body and get dressed. This would be an awfully awkward thing for your teacher to help you with, so this task left you on your own. 

It took a little bit of time and effort but eventually, you did manage to dry your body. The next step was to put the fresh clothes Aizawa left for you on your body, they were definitely comfortable and comforting. This took a little less bit of energy but still took a lot. After sitting for a moment on the seat on the toilet you stood up to face your weakness and the overpowering world spinning. 

You open the door to the bathroom quietly and slowly make your way down a hallway holding on to the wall for added support. It wasn’t long until you heard the quick steps of your professor coming from what you could assume was the kitchen in order to give you added support and led you over to a couch already made with pillows and a new blanket which made you frown slightly.

In your moment of help, you couldn’t help feeling a little guilty, “Y/N, you should have gotten my attention, and I would have been helped you sooner so you didn’t exert nearly as much energy and strength.”

Picking up on your frown Azaiwa said, “it’s just in the wash, I figured it would help and it would make it a little softer. Same thing with your clothes”

“Oh okay, thanks,” you responded weakly.

He stood in front of you and crouched down to your sitting level, “Do you think you could eat a little soup for me kid? It’s chicken noodle so it’s going to be easy on you. I know you’re not the biggest rice fan.”

Aware that you hadn’t eaten in a few days you responded, “Yeah I can try.”

As he walks away you begin to acknowledge how cold you feel but you know it’s a drawback of your fever. Truthfully you didn’t want to eat anything, what you wanted was to curl up in that blanket and sleep, but you weren’t about to let Azaiwas cooking efforts go to waste, and you putting it off any longer probably wouldn’t help your case either, so complying seemed like your best option here. In your slowed thinking you hadn’t realized Azaiwa was just arriving in front of you holding two bowls preparing to hand one to you.

You took the bowl with the spoon in it and were surprised to see your teacher taking a seat in front of you on the floor looking up at you with his own soup which confused you slightly. Had you not been sick and unable to concentrate or focus you may be able to comprehend what he was doing.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to eat by yourself, makes it a little less awkward, plus I’m a little hungry myself,” he said in his gruff normal monotone voice.

“Thanks for that, it actually means a lot,” you replied before taking a spoonful of the soup and eating it.

The meal took place in silence, you slowly eating your chicken noodle soup not wanting to rush yourself as you weren’t really all that hungry plus it felt like a lot of food. As Azaiwa eats his own he examines you in your sick form, He couldn’t help but feel responsible for this, he did push his students as far as they could but he didn’t see just how much he was taking and pushing Y/N. He tried not to show favoritism among his students, but he couldn’t help but care for you as though you were his own child. Really he just wanted you to be happy.

Spooning soup into his mouth, he began to think about the information he had read in your file over the years. He knew that your home life wasn’t all that great. Evidence that you were often left alone for days alone with no real-life knowledge of how to take care of yourself and a house. Your mom was an alcoholic and would have repeating men over that would verbally abuse you, and you did live with anxiety and major depression, but you didn’t know that he knew, all because it was in your student file. He remembered that he is going to have to do some updating to it now that he knows symptoms of the overuse of your quirk.

He noticed you had put your bowl in your lap looking down as though you were deep in thought, perhaps even getting down on yourself. Until he saw that you managed to eat only half the soup he had given you. As he quickly finished his bowl he then proceeded to stand up and gently take the bowl from you.

“Hey kid, it’s alright, you managed to eat something, we can do this again later when you feel up to it okay? I’m proud you made it this far.”

You looked up at him and nodded slightly to demonstrate your agreement on the matter.

After taking them back to his kitchen and in the sink the teacher sighed, he knew you felt terrible, but he was hoping for a little improvement on this, but this just showed you were working on it. He walked back into the living room and saw you still in the same position as before just sitting in a dazed state, but now he noticed your visible shivering from the fever you no doubt had. He put a hand on your forehead and once again you leaned into is getting a little bit of pleasure from the coldness to you. What he noticed was that you felt warmer than you had before and sighed. 

He walked away and headed to the bathroom and into a medicine cabinet. He grabbed a thermometer and ibuprofen and Tylenol, unsure of what would help the circumstances more. Once he got back to you he crouched down in front of you again as you hugged yourself giving the illusion of creating a little warmth.

“Y\N, I need you to open your mouth and stick this under your tongue so I can check your temperature, okay? See what we’re working with.”

As it beeped he discovered the results were very undesirable, 102.4 degrees Fahrenheit, starting to get into dangerous levels. The time was approximately 6:00 in the morning and right about now would usually be preparing to train you in combat before classes for the day, but today is different for the obvious reasons. The teacher sighed as he debated on the blanket or not, but it would make you more comfortable so he left it for you,

“Alright, kid, why don’t you lay down and get some sleep. You’re staying here for the time being at least until I deem you well enough to go back to your dorm. Now, what works better for a fever reducer for you, ibuprofen or Tylenol?” he said and asked as he held the bottles up.

After releasing a small cough you responded with, “Tylenol works better for me.”

And with a quick motion, he took two out of the bottle and handed them to you take along with a bottle of water. You gave him a small smile of gratitude. And after you swallowed he set the bottles down and helped guide you to laying down knowing that to you, you must feel incredibly heavy and weak. Started with your upper body making sure your head hit the pillow, then helped lift your legs onto the cushions. He proceeded to take the blanket and placing it on top of your frame to provide that extra bit of comfort.

“Why don’t you close your eyes and get some sleep kid. I’ll be here when you wake up, if I’m not in here directly find a way to let me know.”

“Okay Mr. Azaiwa, but what about classes today, shouldn’t you be there instead of here taking care of silly old me?” you said with a small laugh that leads to a coughing fit.

“Don’t worry about it Y/N, I’ll figure it out, right now you are my priority. Now go to sleep little one”:

And with that, you closed your eyes and your breathing slowed as you snuggled into the couch and pillow while wrapping yourself in the provided blanket. He sighed and took another look at the time, Roughly a quarter after 6. He knew Present Mic would be around in a little over an hour and a half as the human alarm clock with his projecting voice for teachers and students. He knew he was going to have to stop him this time since he knew you really needed the uninterrupted sleep and he knew it was essential to getting you healthy. In the meantime, he decided it was in his best interest to take a small nap and unwrapped one of his many sleeping bags and laid down in it on the floor next to you.

In about an hour and 15 minutes he woke up and got up to wait in the hallway to see Present Mic and ask him to not do his normal routine and explain the situation. Later in the day, he had plans to retrieve your laptop to email your professors at the American college and also speak to principle Nezu to alert him of the situation at hand, also he was supposed to alert him anytime a modification was to be made to a students file.

After a few more minutes Present Mic exited his room and was surprised to see his friend already out of his room and headed over to him.

“Hey Hizashi, anyway I can talk you out of doing your normal wake up routine?” Azaiwa asked.

“I mean sure, but why?” the other teacher proceeded to ask.

“I’ve got a very sick student crashing on my couch right now. She has been overworking herself and been trying to function on next to no sleep and forgot to eat in the mix of it. I brought her back here to keep an eye on her.”

“It wouldn’t happen to be Y/N would it? She’s the American girl also working on her college degree right?” Hizashi asked.

“Yeah, that’s the student. I guess she at the end of the semester and is struggling a bit. I think she’s also been depending on her quirk more and has been overusing it. Speaking of which, you know how the symptoms of that were missing from her student file? Well, I finally found out tonight.”

“Well shit man, what are they?”

“From the information, she gave me they are usually a lack of focus, occasional headache, and often night terrors and the extra fatigue. I’ll be going to Nezu here in a bit since it will be a modification to her file.”

“Alright man, I’ll spread the news to ask I wake the other teachers up.”

“Thanks for that Hizashi, and would you mind helping out covering my classes today. I want to keep a close eye on the kid. Has a fever of 102 degrees and is really struggling,” Awaiza asked to hope for the best.

“Yeah no problem Shota, just take care of the kid and let me know if you need anything else from me,” and with that, he walked off to start his morning wake-up calls.

With this taken care of, he proceeded to walk back into the apartment and see Y/N still sleeping soundly and decided to crawl back into his sleeping back, hoping to achieve some sleep himself, as he too needed some sleep in order to help her.

[p1nkwitch]

@lonelyeyesweek

Day 1 - First Meeting

Peter was very reluctant to go to the Magnus institute funding party; uncle Nathaniel informed him that one of his new duties would be to make business with James Wright and he really didn't want to do that. A beholder… What a nightmare.

I would've stayed at home

'Cause I was doin' better alone

Peter was very reluctant to go to the Magnus institute funding party; uncle Nathaniel informed him that one of his new duties would be to make business with James Wright and he really didn't want to do that. A beholder… What a nightmare.

The party was unfortunately the most informal way to meet the man, otherwise he would be forced to enter a small room with the watcher to make sure he didn't dry up his family money for an indefinite amount of time.

So he was really dreading the moment he would be meeting this man, Simon kept telling him that James was an old friend and that it would be fine, that he was actually funny beneath all the politeness, however he wasn't so sure about that.

Due to Simon’s and his uncle’s influence he has a very loose idea of some boring old man, a type of academic with a nondescript look that he will forget as soon as he leaves.

With any luck he would just make his acquaintance today and then he may go from the party, Peter preferred to be at home instead of dilly dallying with the masses. As much as he likes to observe people, he likes it better when it's on his own terms and when he is not forced to be part of an event.

So he goes with very little hope for the night, the only positive is that he may get some free food and some alcohol, albeit champagne will not do much for him.

The moment Simon sees him, he zeroes on him and stays nearby talking about his trips to Europe. He also tells him about a few sacrifices he made that actually seemed rather interesting. Still Peter preferred the ones he committed at the ocean, but he knew the man was always more partial to the sky so its not surprising they are all on that vein.

“What about you Captain? You have a few voyages under your belt now lad, how did those go? Were they to your liking?” And the answer to that is a bit complicated, Peter is still getting used to handling a ship, his crew hasn't been properly trained yet to keep themselves in check so he has to… ugh make a few rules.

The other problem is that most of his crew is formed of older, more experienced sailors. Peter is 26 and unfortunately has a rather… soft looking face, he has been trying to grow a beard to at least make himself look a bit more rugged or older looking, but that will take time and he just has a five o’clock shadow for now. It will take him months to have anything resembling what he wants. The graying hair does work a bit better, that he can count for at least.

He is considering hiring someone to relay his messages to, so that way he can stay away most of the time and he can practice his solitude in peace. He really would love to not be perceived until he looks like he wants.

“Its ok, I still need to figure out a few things to be honest, I would love it if the crew was a bit less…”

“Talkative?”

“Friendly” Simon nods at him and pats his shoulder before going back to another story of a trip he made like 250 years ago. It is quite interesting, albeit Peter gets struck with how old the man is. Most of the time he can forget it, easy to do when Simon is so lively, but when he tells him these stories…. hard to ignore in all honesty.

Picking up an offered champagne glass he listens distractedly wondering when he will meet the man organizing this whole charade.

The older man talks to him but at some point his sentence drifts off and he looks behind him with a grin. A bit lost and now concerned, those grins never end up well for him, Peter turns back to check what exactly was his companion watching.

The answer comes to him like a hit to the face.

An older man talking and entertaining several people at the same time, Peter doesn't realize that he was gripping his glass very tightly until Simon waves and calls for the man over.

He wasn't boring looking like his uncle or very, very old like Simon. He must be in his fifties, he was dressed up impeccably with a black shirt that had his sleeves rolled out to his elbows, a deep green vest with golden details and dark green pants.

The man also has a pencil moustache and a few moles near his jaw, which made him stand out. He was also a bit shorter than him, but most people are so that doesn't surprise him.

The air of surety, of knowing he had made him feel bigger than he was however.

Peter swallows and feels his face warm up for reasons he can't comprehend.

When the man turns around towards Simon, he can see his eyes-

Grey.

Peter never looks anyone to their eyes and yet, and yet-

For a second it feels as if the man also froze looking at him, he had a look of….surprise almost?

But it was only for a second, the next thing Peter knows is that the man starts to approach them while he is struggling to not disappear in a puff of smoke. Oh, Forsaken protect him.

“Hello Simon” His voice is very low and amused, oh fuck.

“Hello James!! It's been a while hasn't it?” Ja-

James?

“You are James Wright?” Peter cuts off the man before he answers back to Simon and he realizes that he is an idiot, shit-

No wonder he was so eye-catching then.

…

For some reason James' lips twitch upwards as if he was trying not to smile at something. Peter has no way to know what is so funny.

“You must be Peter Lukas then? Nathaniel… told me about you, its a pleasure to meet you” Peter smiles his usual vapid smile to keep him from prying, he already feels exposed and kind of confused about the man. Better to make this quick and go.

“Yes, uncle mentioned you too, albeit he did not do you justice” ???? What the fuck is he doing, what is wrong with him??? Why did he say that??

Peter feels his hands sweat and his face warm up, he is praying he is not red in the face.

James looks perplexed and he feels Simon staring at him with the biggest grin ever as if he was having the time of his life which knowing him, he probably did, he loves drama after all.

“Is that so?” The man crosses his arms and Peter has to keep himself from staring at the flex of it he has to.

What the hell is wrong with him?

“Yes! He made you sound like a boring old man to be honest, but you are quite the opposite, you look very-” Peter spends a lot of time alone, meaning he doesn't properly talk with people. His usual mechanism of defense is to talk so much that everyone just lets him be.

That translates into him not having a filter, because of that he just says what is on his mind, even if he knows he shouldn't. In this case it is a shot in the foot and he has no idea why, why is he reacting like this? The man is-

Is just a bit good looking thats all!! No need to be so nervous.

“...Good” His face is burning, Peter knows he must be red all over.

He is an embarrassment to the family name, he has to go, he has to go now. How is he going to face him to do business oh shit-

James for his part seems to look at him with something akin to wonder an a bit of curiosity, while Simon-

Simon for his part is sighing mentally about his nephew’s taste in man. Very on brand for a Lukas, albeit Jonah seems to be quite taken aback.

Peter might look like Mordechai but they are not alike at all.

“Well thank you Mister Lukas”

“Peter is alright” Why won't he shut uppppp, what is wrong with him? This has never happened before, a little bit more and he will spontaneously combust.

James smiles at him and something in his chest squeezes. Is he dying? Is his heart giving out on him so soon?

“Well Peter, it was lovely meeting you. I can't wait to make business with you. I'm sure we will get along… very well”

“I can't wait” !!!!!! He wants to die.

Peter is going out to sea for the next 4 months just to get rid of whatever this is.

James grins at him and is about to leave, making him let out a breath of relief when he turns slightly.

“Say… I was going to ask Simon to drink with me after the party, in my office. Would you like to join us?” No!

“Sure” The man gives him a smug look and goes.

Simon pats his back.

“You need to get better at flirting, albeit i do believe you impressed him quite a bit, he usually ignores all the Lukas that come to make business with him”

“Im going to kill myself” He hates his life so much.

“Ah lad don't be like that, its just a few drinks, it doesn't have to go anywhere else”

Several years and flings with the man later. Peter is left with only grief at James sudden passing. They had something of a thing going on, not really labeled, since neither liked that. But the man suddenly broke things up and Peter in his anger left for months on end.

By the time he came back he found out James died and he had a new replacement.

Elias Bouchard.

He hates him on principle.

Peter is cold with him at every little meeting, speaks just as necessary and goes before the man even attempts to chat him up. At least he has his own loneliness, the only thing that truly lasts for him.

It sings out to him, like a siren song, it's easier to get lost on it, to just… become colder and harsher. What else should he do? It's not like Peter could ever love someone like that again.

Or want to.

“-ter, Peter!!”

“What do you want Mr Bouchard?” The younger man was glaring at him and it feels unfair, he should be the one glaring.

“I was asking you if you intend to stop being difficult and listen to me for once! I swear i get you lonely ones love playing at the grief stricken partner, but its been months already im getting tired of trying to talk to you like pulling teeth. Listen- i know i was kind of an ass, but really i needed to do the switch and i was worried a bit about people talking about some favouritism-” What the hell is he on about now??? Also how dare he!

“What- are you talking about? I'm not faking- what are you-!? Listen, I'm not up for games, let alone your games. I have better things to do than be your little entertainment, give me the papers to sign and I will be on my way, off of your life-” Elias gets up and slams his hands on the desk making him flinch.

“That attitude!! I don't want you out of my way!!! I said what I said as James because I was going to change bodies and people were talking about our relationship too much, it would look odd when I became Elias and we hooked up again!!”

Peter freezes.

“What- what do you mean became Elias?” The man who is not Elias??? Narrows his eyes and then suddenly looks surprised and confused.

“You don't know-”

“What do you-”

“How can you not know I told you- i-” Elias? Drifts off and looks to the empty room with a blank expression.

“I forgot to tell you”

“Um-”

“I thought i told you after- oh, oh fuck we ended up sleeping together after sacrificing that woman at the restaurant, i got distracted and-”

Peter starts to piece together a few things.

“James…?” Elias flops on his chair covering his face and doing a muffled scream into his hands.

“I can believe i forgot i got so excited that you let me tie you up that i completely forgot” Peter’s face burns.

“I-”

“Yes, yes it's me, I thought you were being difficult not that you- oh my god you actually were grieving me weren't you? You sap” His face turns smug, and it's so familiar-

The eyes-!

“Yes, those are really mine”

“You-!” Peter wants to punch him.

“Me?” Elias already closes his eyes expecting a punch. Yet he side steps the desk, comes closer and pulls him up to his feet by his tie.

“If you- you want to choke me-” He shuts him with a kiss. It takes a bit to register on the other’s mind because once he does he grips his hair and pulls them closer practically melting against him. Peter doesn't stop kissing him, cnat.

“You twat-” In between kisses he curses him out, he was making the rounds across his neck, decided that he was going to leave pretty little marks for everyone to see. Elias? James? Doesn't seem to mind much.

“Sorry-”

“You- fucking- bloody- ass!!” A bite close to the jugular has him moan a bit, Peter’s hands go to grip his thighs and the other catches his meaning because he lets him lift him up. He carries him to the small couch and drops him there with an ompf-

“Hey-” That he interrupts when he climbs on top of him and starts to kiss him again with a very clear intention in mind.

“Oh…” Yes, Peter is glad he can use forsaken to soundproof the room, he had no intentions to let the other be quiet.

Now that he is not upset, angry or… turned on, Peter lays his head on top of Elias' chest, while he explains the whole being Jonah Magnus, and thinks that he is very handsome.

Not in the same way as James was, no, but he was still very handsome.

“I was leaning more into pretty but unassuming, but thank you for the vote of confidence for the new body” What a smug prick.

“He is not…?”

“God no, only fragments or echos, the real Elias is very dead, its just me”

“Jonah?” Elias nods at his question.

“Basically”

“Huh” The shorter man’s hands play with his hair making him nuzzle his neck. He thinks about it for a bit, but decides to go for it, after all he has gotten this far anyways “Pleasure to meet you Jonah”

The other stays quiet for a bit.

“Pleasure to meet you Peter”

Their relationship is not conventional or normal by anyone's standards, but…

It works.

Somewhat.

“So… I got you so distracted you forgot to tell me huh?” Elias sighs.

“I can show you exactly how enticing you looked to me to make me forget, do not tempt me” Feeling his face heat up he tries to play it off.

“Maybe when we are in an actual bed and want to experiment a bit” Elias chuckles and then turns into a full blown laugh that makes him feel the rumble of it against his ear.

“I can't believe this, but i missed you” He hears Elias heart speed up while admitting that to him, it makes his face warm up.

Peter knows he missed him too, but he wont admit that, too out of character. So instead...

“Will take that with me, feels delicious”

“Oh hush, you already cannibalized yourself, don't be a prick”

Yes, he definetly missed this bastard and he will have so much fun re-aquitaining to him properly. They are closer in age now, Peter’s body is a bit older than Elias now, just 6 years, but it feels good.

This time people will give Elias looks instead of him, Peter’s gray hair and beard made him look older.

“You are impossible Peter”

“Stop reading my mind then” Elias sighs and kisses the top of his head hesitantly.

“Don't make it so easy then” Peter lets out a breath.

Prick.

"Never"

"Rude, what a rude person you are" Peter nuzzles him and that shuts him up.

Better.

[lacedspine]

mandatory exile arc drabble!

trigger warning for implied abuse, just generally dream and tommy’s relationship during that period

“—And I found some more diamonds today! made a pair of boots and everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! and I remembered you gave me a netherite pickaxe, so I’ll be able to go again soon!”

“Tommy.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, right, sorry mate…” Tommy trails away, pulling the helmet off and shaking his hair out. He’d been so caught up in the eager chatter he hadn’t even noticed Dream beginning to dig. Guilt bubbles in his chest, sickening and slow but ever-constant. Fuck. He should’ve been paying attention.

Blessedly, Dream doesn’t comment, just hoists himself out of the hole he’d made and watches Tommy struggle with the straps of his armor, even undoes one of the buckles for him at one point, which is nicer than Tommy would’ve expected— shit, no, that’s not true. Dream is his friend now. His friend. He doesn’t have to constantly expect Dream not to care about him anymore.

“Thank you,” he tells Dream. The words are heavy on his tongue. Dream dips his head and steps back to let Tommy toss the chestplate down into the pit with the rest of his items.

He even puts an arm around Tommy’s shoulders to pull him out of blast range, which is considerate of him.

“So what have you been up to?” asks Dream, tipping his head to the side and sticking his hands into his pockets. “Anyone visit you lately?”

Tommy’s good mood promptly fizzles out. “No,” he admits, kicking lightly at a loose rock next to the path. “Nobody. Not even Ranboo. And he usually at least leaves notes for me in the chests and things.”

It’s strange. Tommy sort of has to dislike Ranboo on principle on account of him being so tall— and getting to stay in L’Mamburg with everyone, chimes a small, bitter part of him— but the hybrid is just so...genuine that it’s hard to hate him. And anyway, company is company.

Except for this week, apparently.

Dream makes a sympathetic clicking noise in the back of his throat. “Nobody? Not a single person has come to visit you out here since I’ve been gone?”

Tommy laughs. “No need to rub it in, big man,” he says, the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably. Dream just hums and heads off down the dirt path into Logstedshire, and after a moment of silence, Tommy follows.

He’s not sure what mistake he’s made, but the atmosphere is far more tense as Dream begins rifling through the chests and barrels, not even attempting to match Tommy’s awkward small talk.

He gives up, after a while, and just stands there awkwardly, back pressing against the smoothed out wood. The pressure is comforting, in a strange way. Tommy’s always liked the comfort of walls, as long as they’re not too close, too stifling.

Pogtopia was too stifling. The ravine was cramped and shitty, sure, but it was the lurking danger, the constant air of we’re-not-safe that had really done it for him. Wilbur marching down the stone stairs, hands tracing the wall and coat flaring out behind him. He smells like gunpowder. Why—?

“Tommy.” Dream’s voice snaps him out of the reverie, suddenly enough that Tommy startles and nearly hits his head on the wall.

“Sorry, I— yeah?”

Dream turns around, and— oh, fuck. “Tommy,” he says, tone heavy with disappointment, holding out the gleaming netherite pickaxe. “What’s this?”

Tommy swallows and wonders why his throat feels so dry. “That’s— that’s just—“ the words are tangling hopelessly in his mouth. Across from him, Dream stays perfectly still, the morning sun glinting across the perfectly polished surface of the mask, the smiley face.

He swallows again. Opens his mouth. “That’s— Ranboo gave that to me a few weeks ago,” he says, horribly conscious of how badly his voice is straining. “He— Look, I just—“

“Ranboo gave you a perfectly good pickaxe,” interrupts Dream coolly. “But you still accepted mine?” He tilts his head. “Is this just a game to you, Tommy? Or maybe you were trying to steal it from me?”

Tommy shakes his head with a terrified fervor. He would never steal from Dream, never— “I’d never steal from you,” he says, voice shaking with panic. “Never— I’d never— we’re friends, Dream, I just— I just forgot about Ranboo’s, that’s all.”

Dream holds up a hand and Tommy forces himself to fall silent, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Tommy,” he says slowly, weighing out his words. It reminds Tommy of his last day in L’manburg, horribly enough. It had been like a trial, almost, that morning with the sun beating down on him and the breeze tugging lightly at his hair and Tubbo adjusting the tie with a gaze as unbending as steel.

It’s like a trial now, except Dream is judge, jury, and executioner.

“Tommy,” he repeats, and takes a step forward to press a hand to his shoulder.

It’s firm. Grounding. Possessive.

“I’m not going to punish you, alright? I think you’ve been doing pretty well, especially with getting rid of your armor, so I’m giving you a pass this time.”

Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. “Really?” he asks, and immediately cringes. “I mean— yes, of course, I— thanks, thanks mate.”

Dream dips his head again, and this time, his mask slips enough so that Tommy can see the way his lips are curved into a smile. “It’s fine,” he says, lifting a hand to ruffle through Tommy’s hair a bit too rough, exactly how Wilbur had always done. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

“I won’t. Thank you, Dream,” says Tommy and means it.

tagging: @pump-kin

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Journal Entries

Request: Hello! :3 Would you mind writing a harry x reader where y/n is a shy and soft Ravenclaw that has a crush on him and she's always carrying a notebook where she writes/draws random stuff she likes and has a special section for Harry where she writes little things about him and puts some photos that she takes out from the daily prophet or that y/n herself takes of him with her Polaroid camera? and turns out that Harry reciprocates her feelings? (Sorry if is too specific, I love your writing btw)💕

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this! I loved writing it! I hope I have done it justice. I’m sorry it’s so short!!

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: accidental invasion of privacy

Word count: 1.7k

As an early seventeenth birthday present, your parents gifted you with a gorgeous brown leather journal for the safekeeping of your thoughts and dreams. This journal was not your first, nor would it be your last. Your parents felt that as a Ravenclaw who struggled to get their point across, the journal would help push your ideas from your mind and onto a page where they could be formed into something with more substance.

The journal was your security blanket, your safe haven. Everything went into your journal, and you wouldn’t be found without it. It was like an extension of your arm. Over time, it had become worn – a show of your love for whatever was inside. Spine broken and pages worn. It was the one place your inner most thoughts were safe.

Everything you felt; everything you thought went into your journal.

It turns out most of your thoughts and feelings revolved around The Boy Who Lived.

A crush, that’s all what this is. A simple crush.

It had started in third year, and now three years later, the crush was still very much alive.

At this point, it could be strongly argued that it was past the point of being a simple crush.

Harry Potter had captured your attention, and then captured your heart. There was something about how fiercely loyal he was to his friends; how he fought for his principles as well as remaining uncommonly kind. All of this went into your notebook; among the clippings from The Daily Prophet that covered the Triwizard Tournament and the polaroid’s of the Quidditch teams; among the sappy quotes about love and hopeless wonderings.

----------

Your journal sits on your desk, right next to your pot of black ink and quill.

Transfiguration was spent with the Gryffindor’s. It was in this class that you were able to spend four hours a week admiring your crush from afar. Three years into your crush; three years into your hopeless daydreams and being too shy to approach him – but you always had this class.

Your friend Margot elbows your side gently, “He’s watching you; you know.”

“Who is?”

“Who else? Harry!”

You frown, “I doubt it.”

“Well don’t! He’s still staring,” Margot giggles.

You glance out of the corner of your eye and sure enough, Harry is staring at you though he quickly looks away with a deep blush. A blush so bright and deep, his friend Ron makes no effort to cover his laugh at.

Ducking your eyes, you shift your attention back to the front of the classroom where Professor McGonagall has taken her place of pride and begins her lecture.

And you try to focus on the lesson at hand; try to take notes and seem interested in what’s being said.

But your mind keeps relaying Margot’s words as well as flashing back to Harry’s face – to the blush as he turned away from you. Your heart races as your mind runs through every possibility for why Harry could be looking at you. The logical side of you tells you that was probably caught off guard, staring into space until zoning back in to find both Margot and you watching him. But the side of you that hopes and dreams tells you that there could be a chance of him feeling the same as you.

The bell rings startling you from your daydream; you throw everything into your bag, rushing to join Margot at the door before rushing to your next lesson.

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

Sitting in the Ravenclaw common room, you fight back the tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You chide yourself repeatedly – how could I be so stupid? In the three years you had been filling journal after journal with your thoughts and dreams, you had never misplaced one. You snort; this isn’t very Ravenclaw of you.

You go through your bag again and again; the contents already spread across the common room floor. Going through the checklist verbally, you note that your journal was still missing.

It seemed that no amount of wishing was going to bring it back either.

You could have sworn on Merlin himself that you put your journal in your bag; that you had it with you at every part of the day, but with the way your eyes dance around the floor, gazing at the contents of your bag, your hope of finding your journal was dwindling fast.

Biting your lip, you let the overwhelming sense of dread wash over you – the clippings, the photos. If your journal fell into the wrong hands, that was it. The entire school would know and Ravenclaw would be descend into humiliation.

You hang your head in your hands; the humiliation already washing over you.

“(Y/N)?” A voice sounds. Looking up you find Margot watching you with a concerned look on her face. “Is everything okay?”

You smile a watery smile, “Yeah, it will be.”

“I’m here if you need me – you know that, but I came over to tell you that you have a visitor.” Margot smiles smally but her eyes show the excitement she feels about this visitor.

“Who is it?” You sniffle.

“Harry Potter.” Margot sounds; pronouncing each syllable of his name.

Your stomach falls to the floor. “Harry Potter,” you whisper, “He’s here?”

Margot nods wildly; her curls bouncing with each nod of her head. “Right outside the common room door.”

You throw yourself off the couch; bounding over to the mirror where you scrub at your face and flatten your hair. Returning back to the couch, you throw everything back into your bag – double checking the floor to make sure you don’t repeat your earlier mistake. You throw your bag at Margot, asking her to take it to your shared room as you run out of the room.

The last thing you hear before the common room door closes behind you is the sound of Margot’s laughter.

Someone clearing their throat has you turning to the right.

Where you come face to face with Harry Potter.

“(Y/N).” He greets.

“Harry,” You whisper, breathless.

Harry kicks at the ground; scuffing his shoe against the stone. “I found something of yours earlier.”

Your heart is in your throat. He’s found it.

Harry was the one to find your journal.

You want to hide away because from the look on his face, you know he’s looked through it.

Harry brings the worn, brown journal out from behind his back, “I found this after Transfiguration.”

You take it from his hands; already feeling comforted at the feel of it back in your hands. You flip through the pages absentmindedly, going through the pages of quotes, thoughts and feelings – the majority related to the teenager now stood in front of you.

“I hope you don’t mind but I peeked at it.”

You close your eyes, “You did?”

“I did.”

You scrunch your eyes closed further, feeling nauseous, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“(Y/N), will you look at me?”

You shake your head, “I can’t.”

Hands take yours, “Will you please look at me?”

Again, you shake your head. Harry sighs, tugging on your hands gently, “Come on, follow me – you’ll need your eyes open for this bit.”

You blink against the light in the corridor, following Harry’s lead as he fetches you to a lesser walked corridor. Harry pauses by a statue, not letting go of your hand. “Will you talk to me now?”

You focus your gaze onto the floor, not wanting to meet his eyes for fear of seeing the rejection… or disgust.

A finger under your chin pulls your eyes to his, and for a moment, you’re dazzled by the blue of his eyes – seemingly burning brighter from the candlelight in the corridor.

“Please?” He whispers.

You take a deep breath, “I put everything in my journal – all of my thoughts and feelings.”

“And the pages about me?”

It’s at this moment you desire nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole. “I’m really sorry you had to see those.”

“So you keep saying but I don’t know why they’re there.”

“I like you, that’s why the pages are there.”

“You like me?”

You nod, “I have for a while. You weren’t ever meant to see those pages.”

“I can’t say I’m not happy I found your journal because I am.”

“You are?”

Harry nods, “I’m sorry for the invasion of privacy but you can’t imagine how it feels to know that the person I have been crushing on feels the same.”

“The person… you’ve been crushing on?”

Harry ducks his head, blushing, “Yeah. Ron thinks it’s hilarious, but that’s because he won’t admit his feelings for Hermione.”

“You have a crush on me?” You ask, double checking that what you heard him say is true.

“Yeah, since Fourth Year when you visited me out of the blue in the hospital wing after the Triwizard Tournament.”

“I had to know you were okay,” You whisper.

You remember that day; you were driving yourself to the brink of madness, pacing outside the hospital wing, arguing with yourself all evening before eventually pushing the door to the wing open a crack. You found his bed easily; a large black dog curled up on the bottom and Mrs Weasley asleep in the chair next to him – a hand protectively placed on Harry’s blanket. Harry was awake when you made it to the end of his bed; words weren’t spoken, but smiles exchanged and that was that. Life returned to normal after that; or as normal as it could be.

“That was when I started to have feelings for you.”

“I wasn’t long before you.”

Harry smiles; he beams at you. He brings a hand up to your cheek, his thumb rubbing across the bone. You grin up at him, leaning into his touch. Happiness and bliss runs through your veins; a feeling you could become addicted to. The same is reflected in Harry’s eyes as he starts to lean in.

You tilt your face up to his; giving silent permission. In a single, silent movement, Harry presses his lips to yours. It’s chaste and sweet; everything a first kiss should be.

“Thank you for bringing me my journal,” You whisper, lips moving on his.

Harry smiles against your mouth, “You’ll have to misplace it more often if it leads to this.”

“Only if it’s you that finds it.”

******

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