#so if i had to guess his death will probably be some final soul-crushing realization followed by him ending his own life

[maguro13-2]

Demons Unleashed ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Gaiden Pt.23 ~

Sonic : It doesn't feel right about this. I mean, we got the Green Pure Heart that was connecting to the Shinra person, but I didn't know why he wanted to duel against, he was the guy who created Soul World and their author is a weirdo. Well, that's no relief of mine!

Tails : Equivalent to all Seven Chaos Emeralds, this green pure heart was a piece of the purity heart created by the Tribe of the Ancients, a highly civilization that existed within the Paper Mario universe.

Sonic : Paper Mario, that 2D counterpart of himself, Paper Mario had a dark experience from darkest things ever had like Princess Peach becoming evil due to being possessed by the Shadow Queen and of course, that jester had plans of putting an end to all, This was probably some kind of gift from the ohkuboverse before 50% of it's universe was completely destroyed by the Time Eater.

Knuckles : No duh, It'll take weeks to destroy this peasant, I hope that it reminds one thing's for sure. Rouge always had me thinking about the Master Emerald being the center of the seven emeralds I collected. But when Angel Island falls into the ocean twice in the Dreamcast era, I had to gather the missing pieces of the Master Emerald from Station Square, Mystic Ruins, and Eggman's Aircraft. Then I had to collect the Missing pieces of the Master Emerald while that bat girl is collecting them during the Space Colony Ark Incident. I collected those master emerald pieces somewhere in the desert, the spooky mountainous region Pumpkin Hill, Aquatic Mine, and of course, there's one place that is so hard to get Master Emerald pieces.

Tails : What place did you hardly find them?

Knuckles : I believe it was space. (a cutaway show Knuckles at Meteor Herd running around while Meteors fall and crash) Help! Why is it so hard to find those darn pieces in Space! If only going through that Asteroid Belt was literally bad idea of going to the space co-(gets crushed by a meteor, in pain) Rats! (cuts back to the group)

Tails : So you eventually realized that the Death God of Mobius have monitored the situation to tell Shadow that he was the "Wrong" way, it's because that the Space Colony Ark wasn't created to destroy our world, it was created to destroy aliens and any other intergalactic beings. Guess Shadow was so worried about alien leaders being the bad father dudes was their problem.

Sonic : It's Daddy issues, Shadow has daddy issues with Black Doom, that's why they had to make throw him to prison or even Grim had to take his Soul away in order to make up for humanity. Humans in our world had no rights to become an arrogant species, the lore of our universe had never beens this weird, mysterious, and sometimes dark for all of us. (walks over get a cup of coffe) Yeah, right, Mr. Daddy Issues, that's Shadow alright. It's not like that Robotnik is going to be alone with his machine since he never really met his cousin Maria on that day. That's a dark secret.

(Door opening)

Sonic : Aw man, it has to be Nights, Yuji Naka never tells me that is other character would come to meet me for a third game and fans are going to displeased about it. Sorry to disappoint, Nights, but Yuji Naka isn't here so it's best that you will-!?

Knuckles : Eh? Who is this?

Sonic : Where in the world is that Jester? Ulala, did you do something to--

Mysterious Stranger (?) : That Dream Jester, and dancing diva Ulala isn't here, she's at the streets along with the sega chumps. But rest assure you that you would do fine if you'll tell me who or what is the final collector and the winner shall receive this prize.

Sonic : What's going on? What are you on about? What do you do need something that you really want?

Mysterious Stranger (?) : That Green Pure Heart, the one you got it from Shinra. With all seven pure hearts collected from the collectors, now all we need is to find the Eighth and final one.

Sonic : The white one, the eighth and final pure heart is connected to the beloved person that Shinra trust.

Mysterious Stranger (?) : I know it, she's the last of the Eight vessels of the Eight Pure Hearts. It's one the keys that Demon Vibe attempted to open the Door to Darkness itself.

Sonic : Then who are you, supposed to be, anyobdy that I know someone? I know it's Nozomi. It has to be you as the Mysterious racer. Or it could be Shahra that is hidden by the hood of that cloak.

Mysterious Stranger (?) : That's my jacket. With all of the eight pure hearts of the Eight pillars are collected, will finally spread the love out of the darkness and joy to the universe, love will conquer it all.

Sonic : Alright, then tell me who are you? You got a name, strange (the stranger unhoods herself to reveal herself as Miku) Say, I don't remember a girl having twintails like Maka before. or some other twintail girl that is Lenalee Lee. But I can't seem to put my finger on it. What's your name?

Miku : Miku, the name's Miku Hatsune, Sonic. But otherwise in Japan, they call me Hatsune Miku.

Sonic : I knew it! I knew it! I remember you! You were that girl that I first heard about in Cyberspace, you're one of the world's newest virtual celebrities of the music industry of the 21st century, Hatsune Miku!

Miku : Yes, you remembered me on my first concert, Sonic. You were the one who looked upon me after you wanted me to join your company for what?

Sonic : For a special someone, I proclaim that Sega would make you the successor of Ulala herself. Before you were born in computer memory space, Ulala was one of Sega's musical divas, she was one of our company's greatest characters that is powerful to save the galaxy with the powers of dancing and music. They say that Sega is looking for Ulala's successor and that successor is you, Miku.

Miku : So what? I was born within computer memory space. I heard about you, I obverse everything from your and the real world, when I was only a kid. I was modeled after a girl who was struck in a fearsome accident back in the year 06.

Sonic : Huh? Wait, you were modeled after a girl who died in an accident last year? Wait a second, I remember, you were named after a school girl that I just met over a year ago.

Miku : That's right, before I became a singer created from within Computer data, I was a senior at a high school who only wanted to be in the music business, the Vocaloid, they were a group of virtual singers that were modeled after those who died created within computer memory space.

Sonic : Computer memory space. I like the idea of that. So what brings you hear, Miku?

Miku : Someone gave me this message and there four, I found out that it would be awesome to have a personality like this. A man with a top hat gave me this to ya.

(a holographic image of Count Bleck appears)

Count Bleck : Sonic the Hedgehog, there is only one Pure Heart collector left and with that, all eight pure hearts connecting to the eight vessels will be completed in order to make them pure again. So I will think of something that this twin-tailed girl you met is not the eigth and final pure collector. So me and my group will begin our search for the final Pure Heart collector, so best be wisely to find the final pure hear collector, over and out. (his holographic self vanishes)

Miku : So I guess it's not me this time, I forgot that that I was going to give you this old Heart-shaped box that I was going give you this. (gives him a heart-container)

Sonic : This is from Smash, a heart container? Wait, That's Zelda.

Miku : Be my guess. Count Bleck and his group are on a search for the eight and final pure heart collector, something tells me that anyone is the eighth and final collector would be lucky enough to me the man of his or her dream.

Sonic : Sounds like Mario will be lucky enough to find the final and eight collector. More importantly, We're still worried about the missing chao from Blue Coast. I won't let Eggman Nega get away with this.

Miku : Sonic, I know you worried about the Chao, but why would a descendant from 200 years in your world would unleash demons that bent on destroying mankind like it's relative, Iblis?

Sonic : Iblis you say. I didn't know that was the creature, the one we saw during the Solaris Mysteries before the game retconned. But where did you say that about a fire demon eating chao.

Miku : He left the portal. And we warned anyone about using it, so, yep, he's going on to kill us with that evil fire demon!

[How it Started (Ifrit Golem Theme) - Kenichi Tokoi, Runblebee]

Sonic : That mad scientist from the future, he's going to doom us all!

Tails : We have to stop that thing before it's going to real world au!

Sonic : The villains that I faced with have the nerves to bring to deal with a bunch of a demons!

Knuckles : Well I'm getting the Master Emerald whether they like it or not! I just wanted things to the way they were!

Sonic : Alright, guys! It's now or never! If it has the White Pure Heart, then we'll able to know something that what the pure hearts to spread that love to purity! It'll take a miracle to find out whoever has it.

Tails : And, It's okay to be cool when it comes to beating down a fire demon. Let's go take down that ifrit, together!

[the three runs off]

Miku : Don't forget who trusted you to find out who it is.

Sonic : I won't forget that. Alright, guys. Let's go!

"The search for the eighth and final collector of the Pure Begins..."

~ Stage 27 : Diva from the Cyberspace ~

[katrinasis]

anyway the final stage of belos’ character is probably going to be the complete collapse of every lie he’s ever convinced himself of. 

we saw beginnings of this in clouds on the horizon, where they make a point of showing belos’ nervousness and how badly he reacts to the thought that the human realm has changed, and then again towards the beginning of king’s tide when luz straight up tells him that no one hunts witches anymore and his drip is trash. it’s pretty clear that, to belos, the idea that the human realm has at all deviated from his idolized fantasy version of it is a Bad and Unacceptable thought that he’d rather just ignore. he doesn’t want to think anything’s changed and he refuses to think he’s changed, either. the man is literally a goo monster playing pretend with human skin and he still believes that he is a regular human. he gets violent towards luz and the collector when they tell him he’s changed because he cannot bring himself to consider the perfectly reasonable idea that they’re right.

and then we have the scenes in which gus pulls up his worst memories and belos calls hunter “caleb”, which are like a minute total combined and also i think the most important scenes Of All Time for belos’ character. 

his rationalizations for the murder of his own brother are so flimsy that literally just thinking about the event itself is enough to make him flip his shit. he knows what he did was unforgiveable and he knows there was no real reason for it and he knows the grimwalkers are not caleb, will never be caleb, he’s been playing god with his brother’s body for centuries when he KNOWS that caleb is gone and he will never get him back. and then, right off the heels of belos finally being forced to confront what he’s done, we see him calling hunter “caleb”. he looks at hunter, the grimwalker that looks the most like caleb, the one now holding caleb’s palisman, and suddenly he doesn’t see hunter anymore. he’s watching caleb “betray” him again, and he doesn’t want to see because it’s forcing him to think about why caleb did it. he was never corrupted or lost or in need of a merciful death, he just wanted something different than philip and that was unacceptable. 

and finally: the collector! belos thought he could use the collector and then throw them away when they weren’t useful to him anymore, just like he has for literally every single person he came across for the past 400 years. the man has been acting essentially consequence-free ever since he murdered caleb, and then the collector is freed and immediately shows him that the manipulation is not going to work anymore. for once in his life he is facing the consequences of his actions, both in the past and in the now. 

what happens now that belos is a small pile of slime on a completely different earth? what happens now that he can’t deny that luz was right, that he isn’t even human anymore? that his home is a place unrecognizable to him? that the childish goals he’s built his life around are considered a joke? is he going to double down or is he finally going to have to realize that he is a joke? that everything he’s done was for literally nothing? that caleb died for nothing? that maybe, just maybe, he could have led a happy life had he not been so obsessed with his own warped sense of righteousness and revenge? 

the walls in belos’ mind are going down and brother, they are going to go down hard. 

tl;dr: the show is making a point of showing that belos’ worst fears and memories are actively being brought to the surface in ways he can’t rationalize. he finally has to face what he did to his brother and the fact that he’s in a form that can’t even pretend to be human anymore. this man is going to try desperately to hold on to anything he can before the walls come crumbling down and we get the third-act breakdown we’ve been waiting for. 

[badgirlcovenrep]

omg chenrich prompts? hell yeah!! Okay so how about immediately after the council meeting? Steph taking Alex to the hospital because u KNOW its steph who takes her to get treated

As is expected I got a little carried away 😁

So this is a bit of a mix between chenrich in the hospital and medical grade painkillers Alex lol

Hope you enjoy!

No one could have prepared them for that community meeting. Steph shook all over just to think of Jed luring Alex into the woods. Of him leaving her for dead in some awful mining hole.

It made her so furious. Even hearing him cry, blabbering like a sad shadow of the man she'd known (the man that was all a charismatic lie, showmanship, to hide the disgusting truth) her anger, her hurt was too fresh for the girl to gather any sort of sadness for him.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Alex repeats, standing at the bar with them.

Ryan is staring, speechless, at his father's crying shadow.

"I'm so sorry-" she tries to take a step forward, but her feet falter, and Alex nearly topples over to the ground, grunting in pain as Steph jumps to hold her elbow and help steady her into the floor once again.

"Fuck, Alex, you need a doctor." Steph insists. But Alex is looking at Ryan with so much concern that she can't get her to move.

"It's not your fault, okay?" Ryan finally speaks, breaking out of whatever haze he'd been in to look back at her, "It's not your fault. I just- need a moment to process all this. Go with Steph, you're hurt."

Alex finally looks at her then, and Steph can feel herself plead with her eyes - because she might not know a lot about these sorts of injuries but she's smart enough to know - just by the way she's swaying back and forth on unsteady feet - they probably have another minute, at most, before Alex collapses.

"You did it." Steph mumbles, voice filling with unbridled pride as well as urgency, touching down Alex's arm to hold her cold hand, "You did it, ok? You can settle down now."

Her brown eyes are hazy, blinking back to Steph with rapidly heavying eyelids.

"Good. That's- That's good." Alex slurs back, the last reminiscent of adrenaline leaking out of her body in a heavy huff, "very, very good-"

Steph barely has a second to process what is happening before Alex's body gives out. By some miracle, she's able to flip her arms around her shoulders just fast enough to stop her from falling to the ground.

****

Pike helps her take Alex to the local hospital before going back to deal with Jed's arrest.

It's a small hospital and probably has about ten rooms, but given that these sorts of things (bad things) rarely ever happen in Haven Springs, they're quickly given a private room, and Alex is just conscient enough (before she passes out from the painkillers) to tell the staff she could stay.

Steph doesn't think she would have left either way. Not without knowing Alex was alright, but it's good to have permission to sit by her as she fluttered in and out of drug-induced, heavy sleep.

The doctor had given her the run-down of the other girl's injuries. Five broken ribs, stage two trauma to the head - probable concussion to be assessed once she was more awake - a punctured lung, internal bleeding all around the ribcage, and a bullet wound to the shoulder.

She was an absolute mess of scars. A walking, breathing miracle.

Steph had heard the doctor talking to the police when she stepped out to get some snacks at the vending machines. "She should be dead." He said, with such conviction and surprise, it made her stomach turn.

Steph felt that she could do nothing but sit by Alex's sleeping form, slowly realizing that she was absolutely screwed. Because she already liked this girl way too much - and God, what a roller-coaster of emotion she'd been put on the last month - but how could she not? When Alex just waltzed into everyone's lives like this determined, selfless little light? When she was so obviously a rare soul, made of so much sweetness, and softness, and strength, Steph doubted she'd ever come across someone like her again?

Looking at the circumstances from the other side now, it seemed as inevitable as any of it.

"I can feel you thinking." Alex's voice startles her out of her thoughts. Steph looks up to meet her tired brown eyes, looking so soft and vulnerable without her glasses and surrounded by clean hospital sheets, "You've been broody lately."

Steph giggles, choking on her own emotion, "Guess I'm still mad about Jed." It's not a lie. She is upset. But there was a lot more than that, more about how her insides swelled with emotion when Alex looked at her - but she leaves it the way it is.

"I forgave him." She shrugs. And Steph knows she did, she was there after all, but that didn't mean the drummer was quite as ready herself.

"Well, I didn't." And maybe that makes her childish - resentful - but she can't take the image of him pointing a gun at Alex out of her head. The image of him pulling the trigger, sending her off to what could very well have been death - "at least you made him cry like a baby."

"Jerk." Alex smiles, eyes squinting back at her in humorous indignation before they slowly turn more vulnerable as she adjusts herself on the mattress, patting the empty space beside her body, "Can you- come lie down with me?"

There's nothing, truly, that Steph would have liked more. She would take any chance of being closer to Alex (and of getting off the uncomfortable hospital chair) but she was also still afraid - still scared something might go wrong and they'd lose her. "Are you sure? You're hurt."

"Please?" Alex pleads, blinking back at her with honest-to-God puppy eyes, even if still a little glassed-over from the amount of Vicodin they were pumping into her veins. For the umpteenth time in the past few days, Steph has even more confirmation that she is screwed.

Because, honestly, there's nothing Alex couldn't get her to do with just a slow blink of her brown eyes.

So she gets up and climbs into bed with her. It's incredibly tight for two people, and they are instantly pressed together as Alex scoots over the pillow so they can look at each other, alone in this hospital room that smelled like industrial-grade detergent.

Alex reaches forward and takes her cheeks between her palms, so very close Steph can't help but catalog all the cuts and bruises covering her face.

"You're so pretty." The girl says, finally, and Steph can hear the tiny slur in her voice. She's probably still drunk on a shit ton of medicine, but it does nothing to stop the drummer from blushing profusely, "you're, really, really pretty. Have I told you that?"

"Hm- yeah you sorta- do that when you're on painkillers." Steph comments, and her eyes can't help but fall to Alex's mouth.

She has a tiny cut on her lower lip, and Steph's fingers itch to touch it. To feel her skin again, like that night on the roof, when she felt so warm and tingly, like a live wire of electricity that could swallow Steph whole. For now, she holds her distance.

"But it's true." Alex pouts, "and you're really hot when you're protective too."

Now that- that was different from anything she'd said before. And when she looks up, the girl realizes Alex's eyes have turned to stare at Steph's lips too.

"Yeah?" She asks, a little too cocky given the situation, but oh well, you can't blame her for the swell of pride that takes over her chest.

"Yeah." Alex teases back, "Thank you. For taking care of me. For being mad at Jed for me- even if you can't do anything about it." Her tone turns sincere, and her eyes flutter everywhere but Steph's face, Alex's dead giveaway that she was trying to hold something back.

"Oh please, I'll rip his mustache off." Steph jokes, because it's her default strategy when she doesn't quite know what to do, "You have lost your right to upstanding citizen facial hair, sir!"

"Fuck, Steph, don't make me laugh." Alex says as a few stolen giggles escape her lips, creating ripples across her shattered chest that made her hiss with pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Steph apologizes, and on instinct, she leans closer to run her hands over Alex's arm in reassurance, holding the weight of her body above Alex with her elbow.

From this angle, they were even closer, and Steph was staring at her from above, watching Alex smile at her, head on the pillow and a half-lidded, humorous expression on her face.

"Oh, this is nothing. Just a few cuts compared to my fighting days." She jokes, and Steph's heart is filled with so much concern, so much love for this girl she can't help but fluster with anger.

"Shut up. You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't take it seriously." Steph says, "you're like, seriously hurt, Alex, you could have died."

Steph wants to ask, but Alex's free hand reaches forward and pulls her closer, fist tightening around the collar of her button-up shirt, and suddenly they are so close her hand shakes with the itch to touch her, "See? Protective Steph is so hot."

"I know. I'm sorry." Alex has the decency to look reprimanded, smoothing one hand over Steph's shoulder in a simple act that sends calming waves over Steph's flushed skin, "I'm okay. I promise" she's being sincere, Steph knows she is by the way she frowns slightly in concern. However, there's a quiet, teasing smile spreading across her face.

And Steph honestly used to think she was smooth.

She made girls blush by the minute. Awoke the bisexuality in at least a few of her drunk makeouts on the way from California to here. She used to be a real flirt, ready for anything a pretty girl could throw her way. But sitting here, with her torso half hovering over Alex Chen's body, her tongue feels heavy, and her brain can't conjure a single thing to offer in response.

It's at least a relief that she doesn't say anything, because a second later, Alex is smiling at her with her coy, knowing little smirk, and pulling her in for a kiss.

Steph is far too focused on not crushing her further, very deliberately placing her hands on both sides of her head to better hold her weight, but she still feels the strong, dizzying zap of electricity as Alex's lips touch hers, her lungs filling with liquid, warm waves of emotion.

And maybe, Steph thinks, it'd be fine if she never breathed air again.

[dxrkdreamer]

How I nearly killed Sukuna... A narrative (Yuji x Reader x Sukuna Crack)

Part 1/?

Word count: 1.3 k

Genre: crack and a bit of fluff and a bit of angst and a sprinkle of crazy

Warnings: mentions of blood and a car accident

A/N: Hi everyone! This was inspired by the show Dead to me (if you haven’t watched it you’re missing out *cries*) and I thought it would be fun to write my own version of the story but with men from JJK.

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

“Ugh I’m a grown fucking adult why am I being treated like a fucking 5 year old!” you yelled to yourself in your car, the angsty music blaring loudly. Yep, what a great way to start your day at 6 am. You had gotten into a dispute with your mom when you came downstairs in the early hours of the morning to bake muffins. And now you were rage driving down a forested path just off your town, it was a common path for early morning joggers because it was peaceful and usually vehicle free. And usually free of crazy girls driving above the speed limit.

You had finished your final year of your undergraduate, and like most you had no idea what the heck you wanted to do with your life. So you came back to the town you grew up in…. To live with your parents until you figured something out, or atleast found a job related to your field. Annoyingly enough, most of the kids in your highschool seemed to have come back too, and you ran into a few familiar faces, much to your dread.

“First fucking Mai has the audacity to tell me I dress like I’m stuck in the 90s, then my mom has to say I should slow down on my fucking eating. I’ll eat whatever the fuck I want, its not hurting anyone!” you rambled on “The 90s had good fashion! And my outfit was cute! And I’m trying to grow my booty, ofcourse I’ll gain some fucking weight- WOAH” you yelped swerving your car as you hit… a deer, shutting your eyes tightly as your car came to a halt. Praying that it was a pink deer you hit. Okay, breathe in, breathe out (Y/N), you gulped opening your eyes as you stepped out of the car. Your shaky legs carried to the scene as you repeated the deer mantra.

“It was just a pink dear that was standing on its hind legs… s’okay it's just a possibly dead-”

You froze as you felt your soul leave you, and it seemed even the angel of death was disgusted by you and had thrown your soul back into your body as your vision cleared and your mouth started trembling.

“A possibly dead Sukuna….” well fawk “Yeah no way am I getting caught for this” and with adrenaline pumping in you and a new found strength in your legs, you jumped in your car and drove off to the nearest clearing, hopping out and jogging back towards the body, pulling out your phone.

“Hello, 911 what’s your emergency”

“Hi! There's, uhhh there's-” you stuttered as reality was hitting you in waves as you stared down at the horror “There’s a body… It’s still breathing and there's a lot of blood…”

-----

You drove back home in silence, and went straight to your bed without uttering a word to your family.

You were terrified because you almost killed a man. Fucking Sukuna of all men. He was the very handsome high school bully. Very loved and feared. “He had it coming from someone anyways” you grumbled, he had definitely harassed and made at least half the student body cry. He was two years older than you and relentless as ever.

Second, you lied to the fucking cops. And you were the first witness on the scene. They wouldn’t call again would they? You gulped hiding under the covers. I need to leave town! You thought, but as you checked your bank account you realized without a job it was not ideal to do.

“Ughhhhhh, I almost killed a man holy shit” you groaned, slumping and hiding deeper. “I can’t leave my house ever again” The dread settled in and pulled you deeper into your guilty consciousness and you felt like you would throw up for the millionth time today.

That lasted about 3 days until you realized you were hungry and wholesome home cooked meals were not cutting it. You needed fat and sugar.

“All dressed chips or… barbecue” You wondered, your thumb played with your lip as you analyzed your options “or maybe even cheetos?” It may be awhile until you leave your house again so you piled all three in your arms, your basket already full of other goodies. You took another glance at the aisle as you began walking down towards the checkout, passing by the produce section “And I guess strawberries…. For health” you grumbled picking up the small container, barely able to balance your basket, the chips and berries in your two hands.

“Almost there… almost there” You kept walking, rounding the corner and-

“Fuck! Ouch!” You groaned as someone’s cart banged against you and you dropped your chips, much to your horror, oh and dropped the berries too that were now crushed under the cart’s wheel, staining the floor in red, almost like blood... you grimaced.

“I’m so sorry I should have watched where I was going! Are you okay! Again, I’m so sorry!” you heard a familiar voice and saw a tuft of pink hair crouching down to pick up your items. And for a second time you felt what it was like to have your soul leave your body, and then be rejected and thrown back down.

“Uh, it’s okay” You mumbled, grabbing the things from his hand, turning around, ready to run away and never come back.

“Hey, wait (Y/N)?” he grabbed your elbow turning you around to face him “Hey! How are you?! Did you forget about me already!” he smiled brightly and then pouted at the end.

Dear God…. “What! Yuji! Sorry I couldn’t recognize you for a sec!” You cringed at how shrill your voice must have sounded. “How’s uhh..” How’s Sukuna? “How was university? Are you back too?”

“Oh yeah, I just came back a few days ago, I was looking for a job where I was living before but my brother sort of... got into an accident” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh I heard” Shut the fuck up for two seconds please “I mean, I saw him on my morning jog” I hit him I’m so sorry I’m such a pussy.

“You what” his eyes were wide “Were you the one who called? Oh my God, thank you so much (Y/N)! He’s probably only alive because of you!” He gasped and pulled you in for a hug.

He’s also almost dead ‘cuz of me… You shook your head and hugged him back, wrapping your arms around him back and pulling him in tightly and rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder. “Yuji…” you mumbled about tearing up, his strong arms and warmth soothed you and you wanted to rest your head against his chest and confess your sins. But he had enough before you could open your mouth and pulled away shortly after apologizing for his outburst.

“It’s no problem Yuji, How is he anyways…” You asked, biting your lip nervously.

“Well, he’s alive” he chuckled dryly “but he’s in a coma, but the doctors said he’d wake up soon, hopefully” you noticed how he was clenching his fists in his pockets. “If anything he probably had it coming anyways” he laughed

“That's what I thought too!” You yelled and then covered your mouth from embarrassment of your inappropriate outburst, but Yuji just looked at you and burst out laughing even harder.

And his next words hit you hard.

“Wanna hang out? I could use the company, my parents are driving me mad” he shyly asked, trying to act casual about it.

And for the nth time today your mouth spoke without permission “Sure! That sounds great!”

[popopretty]

Storm Bringer Spoilers (8)

I said I would translate this part earlier and the last week has been a busy one but it’s finally here. This is the part in CODE;03 (I guess) where Shirase finally got over his fear and risked his life to help Chuuya when Chuuya was fighting the skeleton that is supposed to be his “original” (I said so because we never know if it actually is the original or not). For a boy like Shirase with no special power, to throw himself into a battle like that for someone is a really beautiful thing to me. Their interactions here are so precious too. I couldn’t help smiling when I was translating it. I hope you enjoy it too and have a great weekend.

Feel free to retranslate it if you want. Just remember that I don’t speak either Japanese or English as my first language so there might be some mistakes or imperfectionness in this translation.

...

Hey, hey! 

Hey, hey, come on! What the hell is that? A skeleton? Are you kidding me?

Shirase rubbed his own eyes. That was not an illusion. The surrounding scenery was distorted. The abnormality of the gravitational field left the surrounding gravel floating in the air. 

In other words, the gravitational skill is being activated over there. In other words, Chuuya is over there. 

Too frightened, Shirase almost dropped the clothes bag that he was holding with his two hands. He held it back in a fluster. That was a clothes bag, however inside it was not clothes. It was a bag of stolen items. On his way to find an escape route, he entered a research facility and went gold hunting. After all, neither the securities nor the researchers were out. On top of that, in the research facility, there were a lot of jewels used for laser transmitters, high-speed computing terminals and a lot of other things that could be worth a fortune if sold. 

Shirase thought. These things will surely be burnt down to destroy the evidences anyway. If that’s the case, then wouldn’t it be of better help for people if we use it as a foundation to rebuild “The Sheep”, and let it be reborn as military money? I’m such a genius. He was thinking so as he got lost during his looting.

Then he wandered into this room. 

Shirase looked around restlessly. There was no sign of anyone other than Chuuya and the skeleton. Apparently they were fighting each other. He could catch a glance of the pained expression on Chuuya’s face. 

“Chuuya!” Reflexively, he ran forward, but stopped himself in panic. 

What am I doing? If I go to such a place, I will die. There is a limit to how foolish you can be to get involved in the fight between two monsters. I’m not that stupid. I act wisely and firmly. That’s how I have survived until now. 

Fighting is Chuuya’s job. Getting hurt is Chuuya’s job. Engraving our terror onto the enemies is also Chuuya’s job. And we handle everything else. That’s obvious. That guy has power. It’s only natural that he has to fulfil that responsibility.

But Chuuya today is weaker than ever. 

The Chuuya who is fighting right now has wounds all over his body. He has never seen Chuuya like that. He looks just like a boy of his age. 

No, not “just like”. Chuuya IS a boy of his age. Shirase suddenly realized that. 

... 

But still...

Still, it has nothing to do with me!

“Like I care! I am running away. Alone or not! You guys can do whatever you want about those war weapons or the truths of those special skills! I simply want to live a happy live!”

Shirase held his stuff carefully, turned his back and start walking away, as if he was carving each of his long steps into the ground.

***

The weight from the skeleton increased. In addition to the sound of their bones creaking against each other, there was another lower, heavier sound, probably the sound of the floor’s foundation being bent. If it were an ordinary human’s body, it would have become one with the floor long ago. 

“Stop...”, Chuuya spoke with his lungs being crushed as if he was whispering. “You are me...” 

There was a hint of hesitation shining in his eyes. 

The chin of the skeleton made a sound. The eye sockets carrying no lights at all were staring down at Chuuya. There was no emotions there. There was nothing. A complete void. 

From those eye sockets, from that nothingness, Chuuya heard something. Maybe it was just his imagination. But he couldn’t stop one word from popping up inside his brain. A meaningless word that seemed to be coming out from those white bones. 

”You were supposed to be like this."

“You are... me.” Chuuya said, glaring at the skeleton that had drifted so far from humanity, unaware of what he himself was saying. “If that’s the case, who in the world am I...?” 

The gravity got even stronger. The face of the skeleton which looked like death itself drew closer in front of his eyes. At that moment, someone shouted. 

“Ahhhhhhhhh!!” 

Someone just threw themselves at the skeleton and sent it flying to the side. The skeleton and that person rolled on the floor together. Chuuya opened his eyes wide. He knew the person. 

“Shirase...?” 

Shirase, who just rolled over, stood up and screamed in a squeaky, inarticulate voice. The skeleton that was using up all of its gravity to push down on Chuuya, was powerless to the attack from the side. Its elbow bone was dislocated from the impact. But that had little effects on its movements. It opened its jaw, trying to bite Shirase to death.

Shirase raised his clothes bag, which the skeleton bit right into. There were sounds of high-value jewels and electronic devices breaking inside, but the hardness of jewels had won against that of bones and iron. The lower jaw of the skeleton cracked vertically.

“Stupid Shirase! Run!” 

“Aaaaaaaa!!” 

Shirase shook his two arms with his eyes closed. His arms accidentally got caught in a transfusion tube connected to the skeleton’s spines. The tube came off and a black and blue chemical solution spilled out from inside. The skeleton suddenly tilted and stopped moving for a few seconds.

Chuuya noticed that. He screamed, “Shirase! Pull out those cables! All of them!”. 

Shirase was still waving his arms around incomprehensibly but after a short pause, he came to understand the meaning of that instruction. He rolled around, covered in chemicals, and grabbed all the cords and tubes that were dragging around like tails. He pulled them in and pulled out everything at once.

The bundle of cables leading to the next room were pulled out of the skeleton’s spine. 

The skeleton let out a scream. A body made out of bones only does not have a vocal organ. Its throat cannot vibrate to scream. That was the sound of gravity and the vanishing power of the skills that shook the bones and resonated like a musical instrument. It was the resonant sound of a scream that can take your soul away.

It sounded like a young boy crying in agony on the verge of death.

Eventually, the skeleton that had lost its instruction system and its source of energy supplies fell to the floor headfirst, breaking at its waist. Losing the gravity that was keeping its body together physically, it crumbled into pieces. Furthermore, the cracks from the attacks stared spreading through its body and it ended up breaking into countless fragments before vanishing.

 And just like that, the skeleton disappeared. Like nothing was ever there from the beginning. 

Chuuya was watching over it in shock, before he finally stood up. 

“Shirase.” 

Chuuya looked at Shirase while holding his side. 

“What?” 

Chuuya stared at Shirase as if he was trying to say something. He looked at Shirase who was covered in dirt, mud and the black and blue chemicals for a few seconds, then said.

“You look hella dirty now.” 

“Shut up!” 

Chuuya held out his hand. Shirase grabbed that hand and got up. 

“Let’s go. We need to meet up with Adam first.” 

“’kay.” 

Shirase and Chuuya walked alongside each other. Shirase took a quick glance at Chuuya. He was covered in wounds, dirt and blood. There were countless bruises and his side was still bleeding.

“Hey Chuuya.” 

Chuuya turned around. Shirase’s expression showed that there was something he had to say, something he had to apologize for. 

Chuuya waited silently. Then Shirase said. 

“You look hella dirty right now.”

Chuuya laughed with his eyes downcast, “Shut up!”.

....

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 6)

Notes: Hi lovelies- sorry it's been a minute since I've been able to work on this fic! If you are just starting this ficlet I recommend starting at Part 1 and reading through or just popping over to read it on AO3 (I'll try to post it over there as soon as it's up here as well).

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

"If you could do anything," Harry murmured one night while they were lying in bed after one of Draco's nightmares (although, truth be told, Harry hadn't been having a much better time trying to sleep), "What would you want to do?"

"You mean like as a career?" Draco asked.

Harry turned his head to look at him, watching Draco stare up at the ceiling, "Sure. Let's start there."

Draco hummed, "I always really liked potions, you know?" he said, turning his head so they were looking at each other. "I'd probably want to do my potions mastery and own a little apothecary or something." He shook his head and looked back up at the ceiling, "Not that anyone would want me to ma-"

He huffed, "I said if you could do anything. That means reality has no place in this conversation." He watched as the corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "Besides," he continued, "Those people are arseholes anyway. And they're wrong about you."

The other man cleared his throat, "What about you?"

"Oh, I want to be a hermit," Harry replied easily. "I never want to see a single person that recognizes me again. Except maybe the Weasleys and a few other friends."

"Cheater," Draco murmured.

(Read more below the cut)

"Hmm?"

"You're cheating," Draco said, rolling onto his side so he could look at Harry. "You told me that reality has no place in this conversation but you're making your entire decision in light of the fact that you're the savior of the wizarding world. If you were just," he shrugged one shoulder, "just Harry, what would you want to do?"

He hummed, "I suppose you're right. I don't know, I like building things," he said. "Maybe I'd want to do that for a living."

Draco gave him a little smile, "That sounds nice," he said with a yawn.

"Maybe I'd build your apothecary."

"Oh?" he asked, eyes sliding shut. "What would you build me?"

So Harry started talking, telling him about the cozy shop he'd build with lots of windows and shelves, with a little counter with an old fashioned register, the cat he'd find him to sit on the counter and silently judge people's purchases. He described the work space he'd build behind, more sturdy shelves made out of dark, strong wood; a cupboard for the ingredients that couldn't be in the light; a skylight to help to keep the room from being too dark. Harry told him how he'd build him a glass greenhouse where he could grow his own potion ingredients all year round.

By the time he ran out of words, Draco was sleeping again; eyes closed, mouth open just a little, the corner tipped up like he was smiling.

But Harry was wide awake, day dreaming.

--------

Harry was out of bed before the sun was up the next morning; plotting and planning, making lists in his head of all of the things he needed to buy as he drove the jeep into town.

It took an hour and a half to buy everything and Harry stopped at the bakery to pick up fresh croissants before driving back home. Before he started, he brewed coffee and left a cup of coffee under a stasis charm beside a fresh croissant for Draco when he got up.

Then he headed out and got to work.

Draco was a late sleeper. Not that Harry blamed him with the nights he had (or in general, it made a weird little part of him happy when Draco slept in) but he'd noticed in the past two weeks that Draco usually slept until around 10:00 am. This meant that Harry had a solid three and a half hours of work in before Draco wandered out with the cup of coffee cradled in his long pale fingers.

The entire frame was almost finished for the greenhouse he was building.

"Harry what-?" Draco started.

"Hey!" Harry said, grinning over at him and grabbing his shirt so he could wipe the sweat off his face. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine," he answered distractedly, "What are you doing?"

"I'm building you a greenhouse," he told him, "Here, come take the tour."

Draco followed behind him and Harry stepped through what would be the door. "Right, so what we walked through will be the door," he said. "Then once I get all of the glass installed I have the supplies to build raised beds all throughout."

He moved into the first room, "The greenhouse is split into four rooms," he continued. "That way we can do climate control. I'll charm the glass to respond to your specifications; some rooms can be darker and cooler, others bright and hot, you know?"

"What?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "obviously the interior walls are glass, too, but fortunately I'd helped with rebuilding one of the green houses at Hogwarts, so I know a spell that will let light come through the glass one way but not the other."

He continued on into the back room, "And then I thought this might work for a studio where you could make potions," he said. "I can build you a fantastic table," he added. "I'll line the walls with shelves for storage, I think there will be plenty of storage space."

"Harry," Draco said, sounding a bit dazed.

He looked over at Draco who was standing helplessly in the middle of the room, cup of coffee still clenched between his hands.

"Why are you doing all of this?"

His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, "What do you mean?"

"The greenhouse?"

"Oh," he said, "Well, I dug up a garden outside this morning, too. You're right, some things will probably grow great here naturally," he conceded. "I thought maybe I'd try my hand at growing some regular vegetables, too, if there's enough room."

Draco shook his head, "No, I mean why are you doing any of this?"

"I thought you'd be happy," he said, starting to feel unsure. "We can ask Ron and Hermione to pick up cauldrons, vials, whatever you need and send them to us."

He stared at him for a long moment, "Why would you do all of this?"

He tilted his head at the other man, "Because you said if you could do anything you'd want to make potions."

"And so you just built it?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, yes," Harry said with a shrug.

"You're insane!" Draco finally blurted. "You're an absolute nutter, Harry Potter."

"What?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because the world doesn't work like this!" he said. "I'm a death eater, Harry! I don't get to have gardens, and greenhouses, and people who care about me." He covered his mouth with a trembling hand.

His heart felt like it had been crushed. After a moment, he stepped forward, "You aren't what they want you to believe you are."

"Who are 'they'?" he asked.

The corner of his mouth tipped up, "Everyone." He shrugged, "Your parents,your teachers, your friends, the people at the ministry, me. You are so many things and a death eater may have been one of them when you had to be, but you aren't now."

"How do you know?"

"I can't explain it," he said, and it's true he couldn't. He thought about it for a minute, "I don't, I guess. But even if you were, I like to think that if you were given the opportunity for something different you'd take it."

Draco was quiet for a moment, searching Harry's face, "I would have," he said softly. "When Dumbledore asked," he continued, "If he could have kept me safe, kept my mother safe."

"I know," Harry replied because he did. "I was there. And I was there at Malfoy manor when you refused to identify me, when you gave me your wand. Which," he continued, "I'm guessing you knew was the master of the Elder Wand."

Draco looked down at his coffee cup, his thumb brushing nervously back and forth along the lip and Harry had a startling realization. Here, in this moment when neither of them knew what the future could hold, with Draco standing outside in pajamas with his hair still a mess from sleeping and Harry in a pair of filthy jeans and little else, when hardly anything made sense, there was one thing that did:

He was falling in love with Draco Malfoy.

Before he could start to panic, Harry pushed the thought to the back of his mind, he could think about it later. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" he said softly. "About saving my life? About your wand?"

Draco's head snapped up at that, "I tried," he rasped. "They didn't believe me."

"You aren't what they believe you are," Harry repeated. "You're good," he murmured, "And you have a gentle soul. You've seen too much of war and hurt; let me give you this."

"I shouldn't," Draco whispered.

"You should," Harry replied. "Please."

Draco's eyes searched his for a long moment, "Alright," he finally said. "But only if you let me help with something."

Harry smiled, "Done." Somehow he knew that he'd never say no to spending more time with Draco Malfoy.

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

Veritaserum Prompt Part 1 Veritaserum Prompt Part 2 Veritaserum Prompt Part 3 Veritaserum Prompt Part 4 Veritaserum Prompt Part 5

[aadikted]

Winners Keepers

A/N - Ok so until now, I have mostly written on Peter Parker x Reader. But i just had to write on Nick Scratch. I know its Nabrina for life, but a girl can dream, cant she? Special thanks to @darkshadowqueensrule and @miniaturepizzadyedhairfreak​  for helping me and encouraging me! Hope you guys enjoy it! 

Pairing - Nick Scratch x Reader

Enemies to Lovers

W/C - Around 5k!!

Warnings! - Some explicit scenes (no sex) and a lot of snarky retorts!

Enjoy!!

~~~

You and Nick had gotten off to a particularly rocky start. Anyone who knew you knew that you could hold on to a grudge. When you had first met Nick, you had to admit that he was dashing, and you may have developed the tiniest crush on him. I mean, come on, you were a witch after all! But all those admiring thoughts flew out of your head as soon as he had opened his mouth. He was probably the most arrogant and cocky bastard you had the misfortune of meeting. He hadn’t said anything to you, but the way he spoke with the others, you just knew. This was just your first day at the Academy of Unseen Arts, but everyone already knew you. It was quite inevitable, after all, you were Sabrina’s best friend and she was pretty popular here, even if it wasn’t for the right reasons. Sabrina didn’t have this class with you, but you knew you would see her later. Meanwhile, all you could do was marvel at Nick and his big head.

As if sensing that you were staring at him, he turned around and looked at you. He cocked an eyebrow, “See something you like, Y/L/N?”

“Nothing worth seeing here, Scratch.” 

You knew you were treading dangerous waters, but you couldn’t help yourself. Both of you maintained eye contact with each other, as though you were under a spell, and suddenly the moment was broken by the entrance of Lady Blackwood. 

“Now students, I expect that you all have memorized the lyrics of the song?” 

“Good.” She exclaimed as all the students nodded.  “Miss Y/L/N, please sing the first verse.”

You could feel everyone's eyes turn towards you and you decided that it was better to die than being in the limelight. You could see the weird sisters looking at you. They looked like predators, just waiting to hound on the unassuming prey. But what really irritated you, was the way Scratch was smirking at you. Like he knew that he knew that you would fail. This ignited a fire inside you and you decided right then and there, that no matter what, you would never let that asshole have the satisfaction of seeing you fail. 

Taking a deep breath and steadying your nerves, you started singing- 

“It's time we put our love behind you 

The illusion has been just a dream 

The valley of death and I'll find you 

Now is when on a sunshine beam

So bring all the young perfection 

For there us shall surely be

No clothing, tears, or hunger 

You can see, you can see, you can be”

You gave yourself to music and the notes. You were so engrossed in your singing that you didn’t notice that Nick was staring at you. 

~

Nick was enthralled. Your voice had captured his soul and he felt...light, as though he was floating in the air. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought that you were a siren, lulling unsuspecting victims into your trap. Nick, would never admit this, but when he had felt someone staring at him, he had totally expected it would either be one of the weird sisters or some guy who didn’t like him. He never expected that he would be looking at you. He was rendered speechless by you. It was not your beauty that captured his eyes, but the way you carried yourself. Your eyes looked as though they could drown someone in its depths. Your stance declared that you would not kneel to anyone and your lips looked like they could kill with just words. He was unnerved by what you made him feel, and in an effort to seem cool he opened his damned mouth and released a string of words. 

“See something you like, Y/L/N?” 

He cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. There was no way that that was playing it off cool.

“Nothing worth seeing here, Scratch.”

Ah! He should have expected this. She had a mouth on her. This just made her seem more interesting. He was unable to take his eyes off her and their eyes met, as though in a match to see who would emerge victoriously. Before a conclusion could be reached, they were interrupted by Lady Blackwood. She asked Y/L/N to sing the first verse. 

This is going to be interesting. He thought to himself. He couldn’t help but smirk. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. Guess the confidence was just in her posture. 

Suddenly, she threw a look at him, and then, it was as though another spirit had entered her body. She gathered herself and prepared to sing. She looked captivating as hell and he could only stare at her. He imagined he looked quite ridiculous then. He felt ridiculous. But it was impossible to rip his eyes away from her. She demanded attention, even if she didn’t want it. And then, she began singing.

~

You held your breath as soon as you finished the song. It felt that if you took even a single breath then everything would come crashing down on you. However, Lady Blackwood had no such trepidation.

“Oh my! That was rather...well done.”

You finally allowed yourself to sigh in relief and looked around you. Your eyes caught Nick’s, but you diverted them as soon as they met and in doing so you missed the soft, admiring smile which graced his face.

Fortunately, the rest of the class passed without an incident, and you were practically sagging with relief as you made your way to the Cafeteria where Sabrina was waiting for you. 

“Y/N/N!” She exclaimed as she waved you over. “Survived your first day I see?”

“Hardly. Most of the classes went fine, but Singing was horrible!” 

‘Lady Blackwood? She made you sing too?”

“Yeah, by myself too! As if my crippling anxiety and awkwardness weren’t apparent enough. 

Sabrina let out a laugh and just shrugged as if to say, School can be the worst. You gladly agreed with that.

You both continued to talk about your day but were then interrupted by Nick. 

“Nick!” Sabrina happily exclaimed as you made a face upon his entrance.

“Hey ‘brina.”

“Y/L/N.” he acknowledged you with a nod

“Scratch.” You replied coldly. 

Sabrina finally caught up on the tension between you. Too scared to address it, she continued to talk as though nothing had occurred. However, you were too busy staring daggers at Scratch to even listen to what she was saying. From the looks of it, Nick wasn’t paying attention to her too. 

Sabrina finally gave up and decided to address the elephant in the room. 

“I gather you have both met before?”

“It would be hard to forget that meeting” You replied from with a grimace.

 Nick just ignored her question.

“I see you are just as pleasant as ever Y/L/N.”

“Couldn’t find any other table which could accommodate your big head, could you Scratch?” You casually replied as you turned away from him.

“You know, you should come with a warning label. So that people know that you are just as snarky as you are pretty.”

There was a beat of silence. Sabrina looked like she couldn’t breathe, while Nick looked horrified when he realized what he had just spoken. You, on the other hand, were downright gleeful at this opportunity.

“You think I am pretty, lover boy?” You smirked. 

“No, I just think you are pretty dumb.” He retorts in the most flustered and juvenile manner. 

You can't help the smirk which was growing on your face. You felt evil and you liked that. 

“Are you sure, lover boy? The only one dumb around here would be you. I did beat you in singing today!” You sniggered.

Pfft, please! That was just singing. You are nowhere near as capable as I am and you never will be. 

The way he said that angered you. How dare he insinuate that you were not as capable as him.

While these thoughts raced through your mind, Nick just stared at you in awe. He knew that he was getting on your nerves, but it excited him. The way your eyes flashed, how your expressions changed just as swiftly as the conversation. If you had been any other person, he would have asked you out immediately. But you weren’t any other person, and he liked that about you. What he couldn’t seem to figure out though, was why you were so angry and annoyed with him. He hadn’t done anything when he had first met you. Sure, he had said a couple of things now, but you had been aggravated with him long before that. He knew he would never be able to get close to you the way he wanted. To get you flushed for him. To make you scream his name in pleasure and to make you hot for him. But he knew that you would never allow that. At least, not yet. So for now, he had to be content in just seeing you flush out of pure rage, to hear you scream his name from frustration and get hot and bothered by him. 

His thoughts were interrupted when you stood up and slammed your hand on the counter. Fortunately, it wasn’t loud enough for the other students to take notice. However, you couldn’t care less even if the entire world could hear your proclamation. 

“I warn you Scratch, you will be begging for mercy before the year is through and you will regret ever saying that I wasn’t as capable as you.”

“I assure you, darling, I won't be the one begging.”

If looks could kill, Nicholas Scratch would have been one very dead man. 

“Dream on, lover boy.”

“Is your drama going to have an intermission soon, darling?” Nick teased.

You just gave him an evil smile, 

Oh lover boy, the curtains haven’t even risen yet. 

~

You had meant every word you had said to Nick that day and you were adamant to prove that to him. You studied hard and practised every spell you could get your hands on, even the ones which weren’t in the syllabus. You were the youngest in the school, and Nick had been there for such a long time. You would be damned if you couldn’t beat him. 

Nick knew that you had been perfectly serious and had no intention of losing without a fair fight. He also started studying and revising. 

There was an undeniable shift in the air between the both of you. There was palpable tension and everyone could feel it. The competition between you just continued to grow and everyone was roped into it. Sabrina was shocked to see you so serious, but you were her best friend and she supported you. She became your study partner and you both tackled studies together. 

You and Nick spent most of your time in the library studying, Sabrina had other things to deal with, and you didn’t force her to join you. However, you would have preferred it, especially since lover boy had decided to torture you more by sitting next to you in the library. You never conversed with him, even if he tried to. 

One such day, you were doing your work in the library when you were interrupted by Nick.

“Your solution is wrong.”

“Funny. I don’t remember asking for your help.” you snarked back.

“Come on Y/L/N, wouldn’t it be just easier if we tried to get along?”

“No, and you shouldn’t even be here.”

“Why not,” he asked

“Because I don’t want you here.” 

Nick gave a sigh of resignation and just left the library. He really liked Y/N, and so he couldn’t bear to see her working herself to death.

You felt a twinge of guilt as you watched him leave. Maybe you had been too harsh, but you couldn’t help it. You had to pass. Failing wasn’t an option

The next day, you went to class with a determined stance. You would prove it to him. Your hand shot up in the air to answer before the teacher had even finished asking the question.

Yes, Miss Y/L/N?

You confidently gave the correct answer and turned back to throw a victorious smile to Nick. But you were surprised to see that he had never raised his hand. Maybe he didn’t know the answer, you mused.

However, when the rest of the day passed in a similar fashion you knew that he was doing this intentionally. With each passing hour, you grew more and more frustrated until you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

It confused you, you couldn’t understand why you were so frustrated by this. You should have been happy that he had given up, cause that meant that you had won. But, this felt empty and bad. That was when you realized that it wasn’t the competition you had been craving, but him and his company. The realization that you actually liked that fucker hit you like a bolt of lightning. You suddenly couldn’t breathe and had to lean against the wall to support yourself. How could you actually like him!? He had constantly made stupid remarks and his ego was so inflated that you actually wondered whether he would burst! But, even as you thought that, you started thinking about how he was nice with everyone around him. He helped the slower students and he was always courteous with everyone. Maybe you had been too quick to judge him. Sure, he got on your nerves and constantly rubbed off your wrong side, but he hadn’t been mean to you. You took a shuddering breath as you realized how wrong you had been. You groaned as you realized that you now owed him an apology, but only for being mean to him first.  You would never apologise for trying to best him because that was something he was responsible for. Your feelings for him was something you didn’t want to address yet. It would fuck up your already fucked up life. 

As soon as the school ended you made your way towards the library and waited for Nick. When he started passing by the door you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him inside a secluded corner as you slammed the door shut.

The surprised expression on his face would have been rather comical, had you not been mad at him.

“What do you think you are doing!?” You practically growled at him.

“I honestly have no idea right now”

“Don’t play smart with me,” you snapped, “Why haven’t you been answering the questions?

“Because I don't care anymore!

Any thoughts you previously had about apologising to him flew out of your mind. 

“What do you mean you don't care anymore?” You inhaled sharply, “You started this entire thing!”

“I didn’t know that you were going to make yourself crazy over this!”

Why do you care whether I make myself crazy over this? You started it and you are going to finish it!

Nick just pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, “I am not doing this Y/N.”

“Why did you start this then?”

“Because I didn’t know how else to get you to talk to me!” He finally shouted.

A queer silence descended between the both of you. He looked at you as though waiting to see your reaction. That was when you noticed how close you were standing to each other. Your bodies were practically touching, and your breaths were intermingling. You couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting to his lips. You lashes fluttered as you looked back up to him, only to see that he was staring at your lips too. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You rose on your tiptoes and kissed him. For a moment he didn’t kiss you back, and you felt like your hopes were drowning. Maybe he didn’t like you that way. But then, you felt his lips move against yours. Your hands weaved through his hair and his encircled your waist. You jumped off the ground and wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles crossed to support yourself. Your mouth never left his as he turned around and you felt your back hit the wall. It didn’t hurt you, but you just held him more tightly. Your tongues clashed and you could taste him on your mouth. His lips then left your mouth even though you didn’t want it to and he placed kisses on your neck. You both were heaving from breathlessness, but you didn’t let that deter you. You placed kisses on his cheek and felt his hands travelling up and down your waist ever so slightly brushing against the underside of your breasts. You threw your head back in pleasure as you felt him getting bolder and travelling further down your neck. His hands brushed against the sleeve of your top, but before he could push it down, the door flew open and you both parted as though struck by lightning. You turned around to see Sabrina staring at you with wide eyes. 

“What the fuck happened here?”

You tried to control your breathing, and you could see that Nick was doing that too. Thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to explain the situation. 

Did he regret it? Did you overstep any boundaries? You had practically attacked him and did not even give him a chance to say. With every such thought, you were getting more and more horrified. Your feelings must have been written all over your face, and Nick easily read them, however, he thought that you were horrified at the thought of having kissed him. He felt as though someone had ripped his heart from his chest. In a quiet voice, he answered Sabrina’s question, 

“Nothing.”

Nothing. That word broke your heart. Nothing. That’s what you meant to him. Nothing. That’s what had happened between you two. Nothing. That’s what would ever happen between you two. That word conveyed more than enough about what you meant to him.

“I need to go.” You said, as your voice broke over the last two words.

You rushed out before anyone could see the tears streaming down your face. You could hear Sabrina following you out, asking you to stop. But you didn’t stop until you reached your home, where you finally broke down in the arms of your best friend

~ 

Nick watched in devastation as you rushed off. He thought that when you had kissed him, it was because you had actually felt something for him. But upon seeing your reaction when Sabrina stumble upon the both of you, he knew that it was pointless. With a sigh of resignation, he started making his way out of the room. Before he could do so, however, he was stopped by a hand on his chest. 

Well, well, well. Looks what the cat dragged in. Heard you and Y/N finally decided to fuck the life out of each other.

“You have the rest of your life to be a jerk, Agatha, why don’t you take the day off?”

“Ooh. Snarky! I like that.” Agatha exclaimed as she fingered the collar of his shirt. “Why don’t you forget about her and let me show you a good time?”

Nick’s patience was thinning fast. He grabbed her hands off his body. “I don't have time for this Agatha.”

“Fine,” she said as she smiled evilly. But don’t come running back to me or my sisters when that bitch leaves you.”

She turned around and left the room, leaving Nick alone to ponder about everything that had just conspired. 

~

“What happened Y/N?”

“I kissed him”

There was a beat of silence.

“And he kissed me back.”

More silence. 

“Say something.” You pleaded as you looked at Sabrina. You both were sitting on her bed. You didn’t want to be in your house with your snoopy siblings, so you had begged Sabrina to have this conversation at her home. Sabrina was naturally dying to know what had happened so she readily agreed. 

Finally, she spoke, “I thought you hated him.”

“I thought so too.” You sniffled, “but I guess I got so caught up in the stupid competition that I didn't even realize when my feelings for him started changing. But it doesn’t even matter now. He doesn’t like me back the way I do. I was nothing to him.”

Sabrina felt helpless as she looked at you. 

“You should forget about him. You deserve someone who actually likes and doesn't just use you as a pastime. You deserve more Y/N”

You knew that what Sabrina was saying was correct but you couldn’t forget about Nick so easily. You needed some time alone.

“You’re right,” you said as you stood up from the bed. “I do deserve more, I just need som-some time ’brina. I’ll see you tomorrow, kay?”

Sabrina just nodded as she watched you leave.

Back in your home, you took a bath trying to forget about everything that had happened today. You scrubbed your body as though trying to forget about how he had touched you. How his hands had roamed on your body. How his kisses felt on your skin. The way he had kissed you, the way it felt when you touched him. Needless to say, the bath hadn’t helped at all. You came out of the bathroom more frustrated than ever and as you crossed your room something caught your eye. You turned around and saw your reflection in the full-length mirror. It wasn’t your nakedness that made you feel vulnerable, but the marks that had been left on your body. Love marks, you realized. Your neck was peppered with his love marks and it just served to make you sadder. Your fingers brushed against the marks and you thought that you could still feel the way he had touched and kissed you. You were startled out of your daze when you heard someone say your name. 

“Y/N”

You were shocked to find Nick staring at you and for a moment you were frozen. It was only when you noticed him averting his eyes, did you remember you were naked. Gasping, you quickly wrapped your towel around your body and stared at him

“Nick! What-how are you here?”

“Well, I am not really here. I’m astral projecting”

“Praise Satan! You can’t just do that. I was naked when you came into my room!” 

“I did enjoy the view though.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

You felt your blood boil. He had no right to do that. To joke as though you were the best of friends, as though nothing had happened.

“Stop!” you practically screamed, “You, you can't just do that!” 

“Sorry, I was just trying to-”

“I know what you were trying to do.” you cut him off before you could finish. “But I mean nothing to you. You don’t get to kiss me and touch me and then just leave.” 

“You were the one who left.” He retorted

“Only because you said it meant nothing to you.”

“I didn’t mean that! Sabrina just startled me with her entrance and I said the first thing that came to my mind.” 

“Go away, Nick”

Nick inhaled sharply when he heard his name on your lips for the first time. 

“Why do you care so much about what I said”

“Does it matter?” You said resignedly “Why are you here?”

“To tell you that I don’t want to leave this time. 

You froze, worried that if you moved then whatever trance this was, would break.

“I want to go out with you. I want to kiss you and touch you. And I don’t want all that while we are hiding in the darkest corner of the library.”

You could hardly breathe. He wanted the same things that you did. If this was some kind of cruel trick then you would kill whoever was responsible. As you were thinking about that you realized that he had stopped speaking, waiting for your response

“Y/N, please, say something.”

Do you really want that? you said breathlessly like you couldn’t believe it.

“All of it. And all of you.” He smiled as he continued, “From the moment I met you, I was enchanted by you. Everything you did, captivated me. I wanted to talk to you but I was rendered speechless and somehow the first things that came from my mouth, were insults. Then, I guess you hated me and I knew that you would never talk to me. So, I tried to irritate you and mock you. I never meant to start this stupid competition but it was worth it if it meant that you would at least look at me, so I went along with it. Today, when you kissed me, I was afraid that if I stopped you would leave me. And then you did leave me. But I don’t want to leave now, not unless you want me to.” 

His entire monologue felt like a breath of fresh air. You felt like you could finally breathe again. As soon as he finished, he looked at you with hopeful eyes. 

A small smile graced your face, “I owe you an apology too. I judged you way too harshly, even before I knew you. During the entire competition, my only goal was to make you lose, but I couldn’t help but see how kind you were to everyone else. How intelligent you were and how much fun I had whenever we were competing. Every time I was away from you, I was craving for your snarky remarks and when you laughed that stupid laugh of yours whenever I said something even marginally funny. I don’t want to leave, nor do I want you to leave”. 

You were smiling so much that it hurt, but it was all worth it to listen to his laugh as you talked. There was a moment of silence when you finished speaking. 

“Do you really want all that?” He asked as if he still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“I do,” you confirmed. “I wish I could touch you right now.”

“Me too. Would-would you mind coming out to the academy right now?” He asked in an unsure tone, afraid that you would say no.

Your smile grew, even though you thought that wasn’t possible. 

“Race you to the tree on the boundary?”

‘You’re on!’

Nick vanished, and you gave a disbelieving sigh, still only partially convinced that all this was a real. You quickly grabbed and wore the clothes you had laid out, and rushed from the back door towards the academy. 

You hadn’t expected that you would reach the tree before him and therefore you weren’t surprised when you saw him waiting there for you. As if sensing that you were approaching, he turned around and his face broke into a smile. You rushed towards him and threw yourself on him, hugging him with all your might.

“I was half-convinced that I was dreaming.” You confessed to him.

“Dream of me a lot, do you?” He asked you in a teasing tone. 

You laughed and pulled back from the hug, and instead leaned in, joining your foreheads. “I’m glad you are still the same cocky bastard.”

He smiled at your teasing and grabbed your hand, weaving his fingers through yours.

“I like the way your hand fits in mine.” He said bashfully.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him, “You know...I can kiss better than you, lover boy...!”

You felt him silently laugh against your lips, “We’ll just see about that, darling.”

~~~

Congrats! You reached the end! I hope you liked it! Feel free to leave me comments and send some asks and love!!

[missskzbiased]

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (21)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader  X Han X OC

WC: ~ 9,2K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness

Tag List:  here

Notes: SO! I hope you guys like it. I’m sorry for the delay. Next one will probably take some time as well. I’m an anarchist now, and updates will come out as I finish the chapters or once a week, no schedules.

PLEASE! Tell me if there is anything you would like to read regarding cute/suggestive scenes so I can include them <3

                                                      ////

    You closed the door behind you with a heavy sigh.

    It had been just a few hours ─ if you could call about eight hours just a few ─ but it felt like time enough to last for a week; the exhaustion from a day too long crushing you mercilessly. You hesitated for a second, staring at the woody surface as you held the doorknob, before letting out another sigh while dropping your shoulders. The soft thud that filled your ears as you rested your forehead on the door was somewhat comforting, emphasizing the silence that met you in the living room.

    Fucking finally.

    Perhaps you were just too overwhelmed by all the things that happened along the day but as you wandered your eyes to the floor ─ meeting the familiar surface under your feet ─ there was an impossibly tight feeling in your chest that urged to be released. The realization that you were indeed at home crawled you little by little, getting to your mind and making you tear up. You never thought that day would come to an end but then you were right there in your living room, enjoying the comforting silence of your home.

    You inhaled deeply, feeling every single corner of your lungs being filled by the air and holding it in as you closed your eyes to focus on everything that you shut away inside your head. The flickering thought that crossed your mind ─ two dark orbs that dived into your soul; a hurt twinkle dancing in them ─ made your breath falter for a second. The urge to cry hit you like a truck, and as soon as you choked on your own emotions and memories, the moment died in your throat.

    You couldn’t let Paris see you crying for him.

    You opened your eyes slowly, frowning as you focused on the complete lack of any sounds in the dorm. Why was it so silent in here? You detached your forehead from the door, turning around with narrowed eyes that roamed around the place just to find it empty. What was going on? You finally placed your eyes on the TV ─ turned off, therefore explaining the lack of the background noises ─, confused as to why Paris wasn’t watching it as usual.

    “Paris?” You called unsurely, stepping away from the door to get a better look inside the house, “Paris?” You tried again, knocking on her door before opening it and peeking inside her room. No one to be seen. You frowned as you closed the door, divided between feeling relieved or worried about her absence.

    Did she mention anything to you?

    You roamed your eyes around the room again, looking for any piece of paper that could vaguely resemble a note but finding nothing in sight. There was something definitely wrong here. It wasn’t like Paris to go out so late at night… Especially without a previous warning. Did something happen to her? You pursed your lips, fumbling through your pockets to find your phone ─ hopeful of any kind of message or missed calls ─ and setting your sadness and tiredness aside for a moment.

    No message or missed calls.

    As much as you wanted to be alone ─ finally allowed to mourn over your poorly made decisions ─, you didn’t want to be crying while Paris could be out there in need of a friend. At the same time, the realization that it was yet another thing to deal with at the end of this excruciating day didn’t help much. The way your eyes turned watery again brought another heavy sigh out of your lips as you rubbed your face in distress, trying to organize your thoughts.

    You pinched your nose bridge ─ index and thumb holding it firmly ─ before you let your fingers slide to make some pressure on your eyes. The motion ─ the closest thing that you would have from a calming massage ─ was barely able to ease your nerves, relieving the pent-up stress in an unsatisfying way that would have to be enough for now. You felt your eyebrows knitting as you tried to hold back your tears; lips quivering and chin trembling.

    You had to organize your thoughts… You should be thinking… You should be doing something… You should make a decision… Why weren’t you calling her? Why were your feet stuck on the floor? Why weren’t you running or yelling or crying or –

    The creaking sound snapped you out of your thoughts and your eyes glued to the entrance as the opening door revealed a smiling Paris carrying some plastic bags. You let go of your phone to stare at her blankly; arms dropping to your sides as she closed the door behind her. The way she walked to the counter ─ placing the bags there without much thought ─ was an incredible indicator that she was fine as hell and you were worrying over nothing.

   Honestly? You didn’t even have the energy to be mad at her.

    “You’re here” There was something under her tone that raised your suspicion immediately. The sentence hung in somewhere between excitement and acknowledgment, and you couldn’t help but frown at her input “I bought us some stuff” She shifted to a somewhat knowing tone, looking at you with glinting eyes as she gestured to the bags.

    Usually, you would ask what was going on with her. Or at least you would study each motion and pattern she had ever presented to you so you could figure it out. But not today. No… Not today. Today you just wanted to go to your bed, tuck yourself inside your blankets and bawl your eyes out for rejecting Hyunjin.

    You wanted to suffer for something you put yourself into and were now regretting. You wanted to be alone, and safe, and able to ignore anything that could add to your already stressful day. You wanted to ignore Paris and any strange antics she was displaying right now for whatever reason she had.

    You wanted to feel at home.  

  “Yeah… Yeah, I’m here” You agreed mindlessly, averting your eyes to your door and nodding your head at it “And now I’m going there,” You said, forcing a small smile as you took the first step to your safety nest. You didn’t miss the way her expression dropped ─ a mix of shock, confusion, and upsetness going through her face ─ but you choose to ignore it as you took another step towards your goal.

  “Wait” She blurted; eyes darkening as she looked at you “Don’t you want to tell me about your day?” She sounded conflicted ─ maybe even offended ─ as she crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head to the side “I thought… I thought that since I missed classes yesterday and we didn’t have much time to talk…” She mumbled unsurely, frowning before averting her eyes “And today…” She trailed off, darting her eyes back to you.

    Today?

    There was just so much one could ignore and pretend not to notice at all… As much as you wanted to believe it was all a coincidence, you didn’t really think that Paris would show up with your favorite ice cream and wanting to talk about your day ─ especially today ─ if she didn’t know anything. You stopped in your tracks, sighing before turning around to look at her with narrowed eyes.

    “What about it?” You asked just to throw her off, watching as she licked her lips before biting them ─ a quirk that showed up every time she was anxious ─ and swallowing dry “Do you have anything to say to me?” It was clear by your tone that you had picked up on something, and the way she darted her eyes around the room to avoid yours was a good indication that she knew it too.

    Paris and Chan were working together.

    You should have seen it earlier ─ actually, it had been happening quite a lot to you lately, hm? ─ but you had no doubts now. Of course, it could be just another gossip going around… Maybe someone had seen both of you? No… Paris wouldn’t just believe in a rumor like this… Not to the point of showing up with your favorite ice cream and asking about your day… Not to the point to get that disappointed.

    On the other side, there was someone who Paris would believe on the spot… Someone that knew far too well why you were waiting for Hyunjin. Someone who knew your feelings and his. Someone who was encouraging you to go after him. Someone who tried to trick him and make him jealous just so he would do something about it. Someone who made sure to clear his real intentions up before walking away… Someone who had been suspiciously close to Paris lately.  

    There was no way they weren’t working together.

  “No… It’s not that I have something to say but…” You watched as she uncrossed her arms, letting them drop to her sides, “I mean… It’s just that I thought… I guessed you would…” She floundered before clearing her throat; the nervous antics confirming your assumptions “… Want some ice cream after a long day?” She risked, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else.

    “Unbelievable” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.

    “Fine!” She whined, pouting as she stomped the floor “Chan told me you and Hyunjin had a talk today, okay?” She confessed bitterly as you threw her a disappointed look “I’m sorry but I am waiting for that ship to sail for too long to not be curious!” She said as if it was a good way to defend herself “Can you blame me for wanting to hear that you finally got someone who loves you?” She tried to appeal, getting another scoff.

    “Yes, I can” You said matter-of-factly, huffing before looking away from her for a second “It’s my personal life, Paris! You shouldn’t be meddling with it!” You scolded, returning your gaze to meet hers “Now what? You and Chan will be like two old ladies gossiping about my life behind my back?” You sneered, huffing “My love life is none of your business” You reminded her, tone wavering slightly with the anger boiling inside you.

    You weren’t quite sure what made you react the way you did.

    It was like your mind had split up into two different trains of thoughts that were totally opposing each other. On one side, you felt the need to be focused and rational, so you pursed your lips and tried to stay composed, pretending to be calm on the outside. On the other side, the sadness was giving way to anger and it boiled and burned you in the unhealthiest way possible.

    You wanted to scream and cry and fight and be mad and… Anything.

    You wanted anything that could put all your fears away.

    Maybe that was why you were being such an asshole.

    “Hey” Paris blurted in surprise; brows arching as she stared at you without a clue of what was happening “What the hell?” She didn’t sound offended as she said it but lost, frowning at you while tilting her head “You don’t seem too happy… Didn’t he… I mean… I thought you would be really happy right now” She admitted, trying to play dumb and not give away his feelings.

    “Yes, he did” You answered blandly; a faux calm settling in your face as you stared at her blankly “He confessed; if that’s what you’re wondering” Of course, you knew far too well that this was exactly what she wanted to know. You knew that your next line would get you into an argument but somehow you didn’t care; you even urged for it “I rejected him” You stated simply, watching for her reaction.

    The expectation raised on you as Paris seemed shocked by your input; eyes lost in yours as she didn’t have a clue of what to do now. You studied the lack of expression on her face, catching the slight change when a hundred thoughts seemed to cross her head at a time. You pursed your lips as her brows slowly knitted together ─ as if each second that went by made her realize what you had just said ─ until she finally frowned at you, mad eyes connecting to yours.

    “You did what?!” Her tone was heavy and stern, a reprehension that fueled you as she scrunched her nose to show you how she despised your decision “Y/N!” That was it! That was the anger you were looking for “Why would you do that?! You like him!” She inquired in dismay; eyes diving into yours to find any signs that could explain your behavior.

    “What does it have to do with anything?” You knew you were being obnoxious and Paris swallowed it hook, line and sinker. The way her eyes glinted in disappointment and outrage fueled you to keep pushing her boundaries “I don’t get why you’re so interested… It’s not like you want him anyway” She scoffed, averting her eyes to try and not take her anger out on you.

    “You know what?” She sighed, still refusing to look at you “I don’t get you” She shook her head in wonder; the grimace present in her face insinuating how pissed off she was “I don’t get what is going on inside your head… I really don’t” She admitted, returning her gaze to you “You’re being ridiculous and I know you know it” She added “I just don’t understand why” She stared at you, disgusted at your antics.

    “Maybe you should ask Chan” You taunted, getting a scoff as she rolled her eyes, tilting her head to look at the ceiling in a fed-up manner. You watched her curiously, waiting for her to blow up but she didn’t. Paris returned her gaze to you once more and threw you a look that almost made you ashamed of yourself.

    Almost.

    Because that was exactly what you wanted.

    You longed for her outburst.

    “I’m not going to play this game” She smirked knowingly; surprising you as she seemed to pick up on your plans “If you want to fight, you need to do way better than that” She grimaced, shaking her head to show that she wouldn't give what you wanted “If you have all this energy to keep bullshiting me then go to Hyunjin and sort things out, Y/N” She sighed, scowling “What do you expect me to do? Yell at you?” She scoffed, arching her brows skeptically.

    “Yes…” You didn’t intend to answer her so honestly but before you knew it, the word hung in the air heavily, making you shrink. You lowered your head, peeking at her reaction just to see her expression morphing into a surprised one, clearly not expecting you to actually answer her “I mean… No, of course not” You lied, voice so low that you couldn’t even convince yourself.

    “I don’t understand” She admitted simply, tilting her head in wonder. You noticed how she started moving away from the counter ─ careful as a hunter afraid that their prey might run away ─ and came in your direction with hesitant steps “Why would you want me to yell at you?” She asked with caution, glancing at you unsurely.

    “Because I deserve it…” You muttered under your breath, prompting her to hum in confusion, questioning you again without any words “Because I deserve it!” You finally snapped; head going up to allow you to meet her eyes. She yelped ─ startled at your break out ─, looking at you with wide confused eyes that couldn’t grasp what was going on “Because I’m a coward, Paris!” You added; voice shaking as you let the tears roll down your face and eyes overflowing with hurt and regret.

    “Y/N…” She mumbled; pity oozing from her eyes.

    “Don’t Y/N me!” You cut her off “Yell at me, Paris! For Lord’s sake! Yell at me! Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me I’m awful! Anything!” You wailed, hand going to rub your face and wipe away some of the tears “Anything! Just tell me that I’m a coward! Tell me that I do nothing but run away! Tell me…” You hicked up, choking on your own tears as you let yourself slowly go to the ground.

    You curled up as you sat, rocking your body back and forward.

    “Tell me I don’t deserve him… Tell me I blew everything up…” You begged, raising your eyes to meet hers. You could feel your face twisting in a pained grimace that threw her off for a second “Tell me I’m a coward, Paris… Please, tell me I’m a coward…” You couldn’t help but curl up again, hands pressing hard against your eyes as you let all your feelings out of your chest; the crying loud and ungraceful.

    She stared at you silently; gaze burning your skin.

    “Why don’t you yell at me?” You mewled; swollen eyes going back to meet hers in a suffering question that you knew she wouldn’t answer “Why can’t you do this, Paris? I’ve been bad… I did everything wrong again… I messed everything up and I can’t stop doing it!” She kept her silent stare at you, and the lack of response prompted you to keep rambling “I run and run and run and run… And I keep coming back to the same mistakes again, Paris” You vented; hand going to rub your running nose and wet cheeks.

    Again, she just stared at you.

    “Say something!” You yelled, eyebrows knitting together in renewed anger “Anything, Paris! Hit me if you want! I don’t know… Just…” You tried to fight back the quivering in your lips, tangling yourself with your own arms before lowering your head again “Just hurt me…” You pleaded, shutting your eyes as much as you could “Gimme a reason to cry, Paris…” You choked on your own words, hiding your face from her as you burst out in tears once more “I don’t wanna cry for him” You mumbled, voice muffled.

    The steps echoed in the room along with your crying but you didn’t raise your head to follow her path, shrinking when you felt two arms wrapping you. The warmth provided was very welcomed, and you leaned on her touch; the unexpected tenderness being enough for you to pour everything out of your chest. You felt Paris kissing the top of your head, no words being said as she silently supported you through your breakdown.    

    “I’m so sorry” You howled but what you really meant was thank you.

                                                       ////

   You stared at the dancing branches above you.

  The light beams that managed to get through the heavy layer of leaves decorating said branches painted the air with thin yellowish strings that caught your attention. You let your mind wander as your eyes followed every single notch that came together into a messy crease pattern, getting distracted by the falling leaves that blocked the beams every once in a while. The moment meant to be calming and reassuring to your soul but you couldn’t help but feel melancholic as the grass underneath you tickled your skin, reminding you of brighter days.

    It was kind of funny how the blue sky peeking at you behind the treetop, the insufferably shiny sun casting beams all around, and the perfectly shaped clouds couldn’t brighten up your mood. As much as you could tell that this was a beautiful day ─ maybe the most beautiful day of the whole season ─, you couldn’t feel healed by any of this. You could see it was all dazzling and colorful and perfect… Yet, you felt exactly the same as if it was a cloudy rainy day with nothing but grey to take in.

  The wind fanned all over the place; a soft puff that intensified the branches’ dance and disturbed the sunbeams’ path, allowing it to hit right at your face. The forced warmth wasn’t enjoyable and the sudden brightness that hit your eyes was even less welcomed, prompting you to close them shut. The motion was harmless and it wouldn’t bring you any suffering on any other day but something about it brought you everything you were trying to push aside right now.

    Perhaps it was the fact that you cried so much on the day before that your swollen eyes felt too heavy ─ even if you had plenty of time to get used to it by noon ─ and closing them just reminded you of your own feelings. Perhaps it was the fact that closing your eyes brought you the urge to cry again ─ even if you had already cried enough for an entire lifespan ─, reminding you of the sadness you pretended not to feel right now. Perhaps it was the fact that the blackness and emptiness behind your eyelids served as a screen to project all of the details ─ his eyes, his mole, his nose, his smile, his dimples, his tears… Just all of him ─ that you didn’t want to remember.

    You exhaled heavily.

    Perhaps it was because you were a fucking masochist that decided to lie down under the very same tree that witnessed everything… From your laughter ─ such as when you caught him pretending to read a book ─ to your bonding ─ such as when he cried while venting about his insecurities ─ to your confession ─ such as when he kissed you as if you were the only thing that mattered in his world ─ to your departure… Such as when you walked away from him, leaving all your true feelings unspoken.

    Yeah, perhaps it was because you were a masochist.

    “Are you fucking kidding me?” You snapped your eyes open, startled at the sudden intrusion as Chan’s voice made its way to your head “Do you mind explaining to me why the fuck are you lying down under this damn tree instead of making out with the bloody guy I had to trick to confess his own feelings to you?!” You sighed; eyes softening into a vulnerable gaze as you shifted to sit down and look at him “Because I sure as hell don’t have a fucking clue!” He groaned, clasping his hands together as he met your gaze in a demanding and inquiring glare.

    “I don’t know what you want me to say” You confessed, exhaling heavily as you crossed your legs, resting your arms on your lap as you lifted your chin to fully return his gaze. He scoffed ─ closing his hands on a fist as he bit his lips to hold back a comment that would have probably hurt you ─ before throwing his head back to huff at the sky. Chan returned his eyes to you with nothing but outrage, grimacing before pinching his nose bridge tiredly, trying to stay composed.

    The façade didn’t last even for a second.

    “Say that you fucking love him!” He snapped, floundering his hands in the air to try and calm down “Wasn’t that what you wanted to say to him?” He asked in distress, eyes urging for your answer “Isn’t this how you feel?” He insisted, offering you a lost and yet frustrated look that prompted you to sigh “Just go and kiss him! I don’t know!” He pressed his temples, closing his eyes as he exhaled heavily to try and organize his thoughts.

    You stared at him blankly, studying his upset features for a few seconds before you lowered your head, focusing your gaze on your lap. Contrary to what you would have expected, the sudden outburst didn’t startle you. If nothing else, his scolding felt like a warm comforting hug and a pat on the back. It was just what you needed. The way he yelled those words at you ─ demanding to know why you had chickened out like that ─ was just like hearing everything going on inside your head out loud.

    There was something about hearing it from him and not from yourself ─ from actually hearing it and not just torturing yourself with those thoughts ─ that fulfilled your needs. It felt real. It was like all those words and feelings weren’t just inside your head anymore. You weren’t the one mourning and reliving everything. You weren’t the only one who despised your actions; plus, you could see it plastered over his face in a way that was impossible to ignore.

      And you didn’t want to.

      As you looked at him, you felt the urge to take care of Chan… To calm him down… To soothe him. This feeling ─ the kindness that finally ran through your veins instead of the hatred and contempt ─ was strong enough to distract you from your mind. Maybe that was what you really needed. Although you could reach out for Chan─ place your hand on his ankle and squeeze it reassuringly ─, you couldn’t do the same for yourself.

    You didn’t deserve it.

    The disappointment you held for your actions was too much to allow you to be this kind to someone so unworthy of it as you. The way you saw it, there were just two possible ways to deal with it. You either cried everything out ─ and you didn’t think you had the right to do it ─ or you relived it over and over again ─ punishing yourself for being like this.

    There was no time to be kind to someone like you.

    But you could be kind to Chan.

    Maybe it could make you worthy of something other than hatred.

    You didn’t need any words as you lifted your eyes to meet his; thumb rubbing circles on his skin and lips twisting in a small smile that was meant to tranquilize him. You sensed it wasn’t the right time to talk ─ as you could see in his embarrassed and regretful eyes ─, so you waited patiently for him to say something, giving him enough time to think about whatever was going on inside his head. He let out a heavy sigh, sitting down across you and taking your hand into his, holding it gently as he stared straight into your eyes with a tiredness you never saw before.

    “I’m sorry” He huffed, hold tightening just a little bit as if to say that he meant it “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like this” You couldn’t help but fight back a smile, finding it amusing how he was so apologetic about something that made you feel so at ease. You shook your head ─ a slow motion that was meant to conceive how untroubled you were about his behavior ─ before smiling at him, dismissing the idea that you were somewhat offended by anything he said “I’m just really tired…” He sighed, rubbing his face in distress.

    “Why? What happened?” You asked softly, and he scoffed before looking away in disbelief. As you stared at his profile, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes but you choose not to comment on it “Do you need my keys?” You offered, tilting your head as you tried to read his expression but getting nothing out of it.

    “Are you really going to ignore why I’m here?” He asked grudgingly, returning his eyes to you “Y/N… I thought you loved him” He admitted “I really did… I…” He chuckled bitterly, pinching his nose bridge before sighing one more time “I spent all night long watching ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ and seeing Hyunjin crying and eating everything he could find in his way” He confessed, and the picture was somewhat funny and yet depressing.

    You didn’t answer him; there was nothing to say.

    “If I’m gonna be honest with you… I thought you guys were meant for each other” He scoffed “I thought you loved him as he loves you… I thought you guys shared so many struggles that you could heal one another… I thought…” He hesitated, letting his shoulders drop as he lowered his gaze to his lap “I thought you would say yes, Y/N…” He confessed, clearly disappointed at you.

    He let the silence hang in the air, expecting you to say something.

    You didn’t.

    “Nothing?” He sighed “Really?” He raised his gaze to meet yours.

    “I don’t know what you want from me, Chan” You tried your best to let your tone unwavering but you failed, and you knew it. You noticed how his eyes twinkled, picking up on your oddness “What do you want me to do?” You asked obnoxiously, scoffing as you looked away “Lie to him?” You felt your lips twitching slightly; the lie tasting too bitter for you to keep a straight face.

    “Haven’t you done that already?” He asked knowingly; voice softening as he seemed to figure out everything “Y/N…” He smiled kindly; the corner of his lips sinking just enough to show his dimples as he played with your fingers “Why are you lying to yourself?” He didn’t sound judgingly but gentle, trying to look into your eyes but failing as you avoided his gaze for dear life “You love him” He stated matter-of-factly, chuckling in relief.

    “No, I don’t,” You scoffed, still refusing to meet his eyes.

    “So what is this for?” He asked, hand going to your face.

    You allowed him to lift your chin and guide you to look at him, shivering as his finger slid from there to the corner of your eyes. You knew far too well what he was going to find there. You pursed your lips as firm as you could, trying to hold back everything that you wanted to pour out of your chest. He caressed your skin gently, and you could feel the faint watery sensation there as he let go of your face to show you his finger; a single drop balanced in there.

    You closed your eyes, refusing to acknowledge it.

    He chose to stay silent, waiting for you to be comfortable enough to say something. Anything. The way your entire face twitched and spasmed ─ especially your jaw that seemed settled in quivering nonstop ─ brought the realization that it was too late. You couldn’t fight back your tears anymore. You threw your face back, opening your eyes in a vain attempt to allow the soft wind to dry your tears away but it didn’t. The way you clenched your jaw and tensioned your throat did nothing but bring you pain before you finally let everything out, bursting into tears.

    “Why are you doing this to me?” You howled, choking on your own feelings as you threw Chan a look that was meant to be a glare but turned out to be more of a cry for help “I don’t want to talk about it… I don’t want to feel it, Chan!” Both of your hands shot to your eyes, pressing them firmly to try and hold back the tears “I don’t want to love him!” You cried, shaking your head repeatedly “I don’t want to!” You insisted, voice stressing in a pained mewl.

    “But he loves you, Y/N” He pointed out carefully, placing his hand on your head to stroke your hair gently “He really does” He reassured you, body sliding on the grass ─ the soft sound giving him away ─ to get a place beside you. He let his hand trail down to your back before sneaking to your shoulder and trying to pull you closer to him but you didn’t give in to his touch “There is no need for you to run away… He’s already yours” He hunched his back to try and take a look at your face but you still had your hands over your eyes “Why not take this chance?” He tried again, and this time it was too much for you.

  “Because I’m a coward, Chan!” You snapped, removing your hands from your eyes and glaring at him “Because I’m a fucking coward that can’t face my own feelings!” You cried, connecting your eyes to his even though you couldn’t clearly see him “Is that what you want me to say?!” You let the corner of your lips quiver, knitting your eyebrows together “Do you want to hear that I won’t ever have someone to love because I’ll keep running away from it?!” You choked, overwhelmed by everything that crashed over your feelings.

    You threw your head back, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

    “Do you want to hear that no matter how much I run, I always end up in the same place?!” You scoffed ─ almost a whimper as your throat tightened by the second ─ before returning your eyes to him “No matter how much I run, Chan… I run and run and run and run… And I always…” You took a deep breath, air wavering to get into your lungs “Always” You emphasized, averting your eyes from him “End up alone, Chan” You muttered, hugging yourself as you lower your gaze.

    “Y/N…” He whispered, shocked by everything you spilled on him.

    “I don’t want to be alone, Chan” You howled, throwing your arms around him as you shoved your face on the crook of his neck, letting your tears soak his shirt. He wrapped you up in his arms, rubbing gentle circles on your back as he let his lips graze over your strands “Just don’t leave me alone…” You pleaded in a choked way that prompted him to shush you.

    “Never…” He promised quietly “I would never”

                                                           ////

    How exactly did you end up in this situation?

    You cut the beef on your plate awkwardly as you avoided looking him in the eyes, the scratching cringe noise making you shrink and grimace as you fixed your gaze on the fork and the knife in your hands. Now that you thought about it, maybe you should have weighted your options a little bit more… Wisely. It was too late for that, though, as Han sighed before dropping his cutlery in his plate, raising his eyes to stare at you uncomfortably.

    “Lemme see if I got this right…” He said, covering his mouth and muffling his voice as he tried to manage swallowing down his food and talking at the same time “You’re asking me advice about your relationship with Hyunjin?” He stressed out the word love, throwing you a skeptical look “Because I hate him” He added in confusion, frowning at you.

    “Yeah…” You cleared your throat, refusing to look in his eyes “Pretty much yeah” You risked a glance at him, bringing the food to your mouth as you tried to buy some time. He stared at you fixedly; head slightly tilted down, which made him look judging and attentive as you munched your food. It went down your throat as gently as a rock, prompting you to cough “I mean… Is tha such a weird thing?” You shrugged but the answer was quite obvious.

    Yes.

    “Kinda” He chuckled, arching his eyebrow funnily “I mean… You stumble over me on the way to have lunch” He raised his index finger in a counting motion “You comment on how Hyunjin missed today’s classes and how Paris saw him wandering around and went after him, leaving you alone” He pulled the second finger “You have puffed eyes and dark circles and look like literal shit” He pulled the third finger, and you couldn’t help but to chortle.

    “Oh, Thank you!” You chirped mockingly, lifting your head so you could fully stare at him, “Such a nice thing to say” You pointed out playfully, getting him to pale and deadpan at you for a second. You could almost hear his system rebooting but it didn’t prevent you from laughing at his face “I’m just kidding” You decided to take pity on him.

    “That was totally not what I meant!” He reassured you eagerly; system finally back and eyes settling for desperation “You’re beautiful as fuck, I swear!” He rushed to say, frowning at his own words “No! I mean… Not like beautiful in a flirting way, you know? Just like beautiful as… As in beauty and... Hm…” He rambled, seeming embarrassed as he trailed off and stared at your grin “You know what? You can do the talking” He sighed, holding his cutlery again and shoving food in his mouth.

    “I think the saddest part is that you’re still being awkward as fuck around me” You mentioned, leaning back on your chair as you tilted your head and looked at him teasingly “The bright side is that you always were kinda weird anyway” You joked, prompting him to lightly kick you under the table and making you laugh.

    “Ha-Ha! You’re hilarious” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief “Pardon me for not wanting to make it more awkward than it already is” He grumbled; mouth making soundless complaints as he took another bite at his food “I mean─ I literally confessed to your all sweaty and smelly and mouth full of sauce… God, that was terrible” He cringed, hand going to hide his face “And then I go all–” He scoffed, taking his hands away from his face “You’re so beautiful” He spoke in a silly low tone, mocking himself.

    “If it makes you feel any better this is the first time that I genuinely laugh in three days” You offered him, face twisted in a playful frown “Also… You weren’t that smelly and sweaty… You didn’t practice hard enough that day, I think” You taunted, and he snorted before looking to the ceiling and huff.

    “Okay… So first: No, it doesn’t make me happy” He knitted his eyebrows together, throwing you an inquiring look “You literally just said you’ve been sad for three days” He pointed out, eyes widening slightly to emphasize his sentence “And two: Coach practically shoved that ball up in my ass! How can you say that?!” He whined, grimacing grudgingly at you.

    You laughed at that ─ like wholeheartedly laughed at that ─, and for a second you actually believed that your attempt to brush aside your feelings was working out. Silly you. It struck you again ─ just like a truck ─ and your laughter died in your throat little by little until the twinkle in your eyes vanished like the flame of a blown candle. Something about it must have caught his attention because Han mimicked your expression, staring fixedly at your face as he waited for you to voice out your thoughts.

     You didn’t.

    “Everything fine?” He asked concerned as you didn’t offer anything back. Hell no… No, it’s not fine. You could never voice it out loud, though, even if it was the truth, “What’s with that face?” He risked, arching his brows to invite you to answer his question.

    “Got it when I was born” You tried to joke it off.

    “I see your jokes didn’t get any better” He taunted; a playful tone trying to mask the worry you could see in his eyes. He cleared his throat before reaching out for you; hand slowly slinking its way to lay on top of yours in a reassuring motion. The situation itself made you fight back a smile, and you found it somewhat cute the way he tried to push aside his shyness to make sure you were okay.

    “Tough crowd” You smirked at him, and as much as he rolled his eyes playfully, you knew he wasn’t buying your cunningness. Wasn’t the fact that you could deceive neither of you kinda funny? You sighed heavily as you lowered your eyes, knowing that pretending there was nothing going on inside your head wouldn’t get you anywhere “Hyunjin confessed to me” You admitted dejectedly, peeking at him to see his reaction.

    Contrary to what you expected, Han didn’t seem surprised or enraged at all, deadpanning at your statement for a few seconds before clearing his throat again and lowering his gaze. He didn’t say anything for a while, diving deep into his thoughts and pursing his lips as his eyes changed from time to time. Maybe you shouldn’t discuss your love life with a friend that confessed to you not that long ago… But now was a little bit too late for that.

      Were you capable of doing something right at this point? You didn’t think so. You sighed heavily as you studied his features, wondering how could you have put so much unnecessary stuff on everybody’s shoulders in so little time. To be fair, you had a lot on your plate right now… It didn’t mean you had the right to fill someone else’s cup, though. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, ready to push the subject aside and move on to any other thing but Han beat you to it.

    “So you love him?” Han’s tone wasn’t really loud but it startled you just like he had shouted right to your ears and then hit you in the face. You didn’t even answer him, mouth closing shut and eyes staring at him blankly for a few seconds as your system seemed to reboot “You wouldn’t tell me he confessed to you if you weren’t interested…” He mused, narrowing his eyes at your reaction “But you rejected him” He assumed wisely, stating it in a matter-of-factly way that made you wonder when did he start to actually be able to figure out what was going through your head.

     There was no way of taking it back now.

    “Love is a strong word” You mumbled, averting your eyes from him and fixing it on your plate again; fork poking the food and scrambling things all over. Well… As people say: You are what you eat. You grimaced bitterly at the sight, grossed out at the mixture you did yourself and dropping your fork with a clink before swallowing down the lump on your throat.

    “Yeah… It is quite strong” He agreed softly, almost sounding mindlessly before he squeezed your hand once to invite you to look at him “But is it the right word?” He questioned solemnly, and you could only be thankful for not giving in to his squeeze and refusing to meet his eyes, or else he would have seen things you didn’t want to show to anyone.

    Things you were trying to hide from yourself.

    The truth was that the rollercoaster of emotions you had experienced through Wednesday and Thursday brought you a realization: There was no way to fight those feelings away. Well… If you were really being honest with yourself there might be a way but you just didn’t have enough willpower to succeed in it. If you had feelings for him but you didn’t want to and you couldn’t fight them away, there was just one other option available for you… Ignore them.

    Initially, you felt guilty for trying to fight away your feelings. Especially with how harsh you were about it while rejecting Hyunjin. Although you weren’t rude, you weren’t gentle as well… You were raw, to say the very least. You knew how much it meant for him to face his fears and voice his feelings out loud. You knew hard it must have been for him to say that he loved you and wanted to be with you even though he was terrified of bonding. Now, you couldn’t feel guilty at all.

    Now, you couldn’t help but think that you should feel proud of what you were doing. So what If you were running away from your feelings? So what if you were scared to handle this maturely? So what if you didn’t want to risk your mental health for him? You weren’t meant to do this. It wasn’t your job to take. You shouldn’t feel sorry for protecting yourself from the instability that was bound to come from this relationship.

     You shouldn’t feel sorry for running away again.

    It didn’t matter how many times you chanted it to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel guilty anyway. In retrospect, you couldn’t remember a time when you managed to overcome your feelings… You couldn’t point out one time that you didn’t give up and decided to run away… You couldn’t point out one time that you fought for dear life for something you wanted. And it destroyed you. You couldn’t help but run away from your problems and every single time you did it, nothing was resolved.

    Your father? You watched as he walked away from your life and you did nothing about it. You let him abandon you and your mother and when he came back ─ as if nothing had happened ─, you let him walk into your mother’s life just so you could follow your own path. Your mother? You left her behind just like your father; ran away from all the problems she got you and herself into and didn’t even look behind. You let her with the one man you could never trust for the rest of your life and pretended you weren’t as bad as him in the most hypocritical way you could ever have done. Hyunjin? You rejected him as if you didn’t love him as much as he loves you… You settled on finding a reason why you shouldn’t love him back and held on to it for dear life.

    Maybe, if you could convince yourself he wasn’t good enough for you, then you could finally let him go. Maybe, if you ignore your feelings like you had been doing throughout all your life, you would eventually grow used to it. Just like, eventually, the pain of being left behind was manageable enough. Just like, eventually, the disgust of acting like your father was manageable enough. Just like, eventually, the façade that you weren’t just like him was manageable to maintain. Just like, eventually, you would be capable to manage to not feel affected by your feelings for him.

    You didn’t need to fight it because, eventually, it wouldn’t even affect you anymore. You didn’t need to be a fighter ─ to be fair, you weren’t really a good one ─, you just needed to be a good runner. And that you could do for dear life. You were a hella of a runner and if you needed you would be the best of them all. You would run away from your feelings for dear life. You would proudly and actively pretend that not seeing him in the morning didn’t affect you. You would convince yourself that knowing he couldn’t even bear to go to the same classes as you didn’t affect you.

     You would convince yourself that this was your best choice.                        

    You would convince yourself that the tight feeling in your chest meant nothing but an overattachment that you would be able to manage eventually. You would convince yourself that the fact that you kept turning your back to people didn’t affect you… That you weren’t afraid of being abandoned again… That you weren’t afraid of not being enough… That you weren’t afraid of being crazy just like your mother… That you weren’t afraid of being untrustworthy just like your father… That you weren’t afraid of running over and over and over–

     “Hm… Y/N?” Han called you unsurely, trying to catch your attention by waving his hand right in front of your face “You’re still with me?” He asked jokingly; a vain attempt to lighten up your mood. You blinked a few times, trying to regain consciousness. What were you talking about before? You didn’t even remember anymore “So… Do you love him?’ He cleared his throat, searching for your eyes.

    “What I feel doesn’t really matter” You dismissed his question, though your answer made it quite obvious “What matters is that I don’t think he’s the right person for me” You lied but the scoff you got as an answer was a good indication that Han wasn’t buying it at all “And Paris and Chan don’t seem to share my vision… And I was wondering if…” You glanced at him unsurely “You know?” You grimaced sheepishly.

    “You were wondering if I wasn’t up to badmouth him since I hate the dude” He completed for you, arching his brow amusedly “You want me to say that he’s a fuckboy and there is no way that he loves you for real and you shouldn’t fall for his charms, right?” He licked his lips, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair “You want me to say that he’ll cheat on you and hurt you because he’s a huge piece of shit” He added, and you felt your throat itching to refute him, and yet you urged to believe in it.

    “Yeah… Kinda” You nodded, getting a chuckle as an answer.

    “This can never get out of here…” He muttered, moving forward to lean on the table as he cupped his mouth to mockingly pretend to tell you a secret “And I mean never” He emphasized; eyes glinting in amusement. You nodded, confused as to why he was acting so lighthearted to the fact that you just implied you loved Hyunjin and needed reassurance that not acting on it was the right choice.

    “Just spill it” You rushed him, frowning in confusion.

    “I don’t think I can give you what you need” He admitted, and to say that you were flabbergasted would be an understatement. You gawked at him, surprised to see him shrugging his shoulders as he returned to his seat “I know I tried to meddle a lot in your love life… And I know I said he just wanted to get into yours and Paris’ pants that day” He coughed to hide his embarrassment, eyes darting around before fixing on you again “But the truth is that… He did a lot for you guys” He said grudgingly.

   There was no fucking way.

    “You’re kidding me, right?” You scoffed “What happened to your attitude?! You hated him!” You scowled; the rage suddenly building up. What were you going to do now?! You were counting on it! You needed to hear someone supporting your decisions! “Now what?! The fact that he fucked the whole campus doesn’t matter anymore?! The fact that he’s always pissing you off?! The fact that he’s annoying to the point of being obnoxious?!” You slammed the table, though it wasn’t strong enough to catch anyone’s attention.

      “I don’t believe I’ll have to say it…” He sighed; the grimace that narrowed his eyes ─ as well as the whining and ridiculous whimpering ─ showing that he wasn’t happy to say what he was about to say “So what about the fact that he went way out of his way to help Paris?” He scowled as he defended him “Or the fact that you’re constantly defending him when I roast him?” He added, eyebrows moving to emphasize his point “Or the fact that both of you always seem comfortable around him even though he’s a dick? Or the fact that you literally let him kiss you on the stairs?” He pursed his lips judgingly, and you couldn’t help but feel your face burning at that.

    “It was a fake kiss!” You retorted eagerly “And what about the fact that you were always dismissing all those arguments?! What about the fact that I don’t want to hear his good points but his bad ones?! What about the fact that I’m freaking the hell out here?!” You yelled, getting up from your chair and placing your hands on the table to look more threatening “You were supposed to tell me that he sucks, Han” You whined “I need you to help me hate the idea of being with him” You sighed tiredly, returning to your seat.

    “No, Y/N…” He offered you a small smile, reaching for your hands once again “You need to face your emotions” He said softly, rubbing circles on your skin “You were the one to encourage me to tell my father my real thoughts… My dreams…” He sounded grateful, and you couldn’t help but stare deeply into his eyes “I was afraid too, you know? I was afraid I would disappoint him… I was afraid… Well, it doesn’t matter” He chuckled, shrugging “The point is that you’re afraid of your feelings… You’re afraid of being hurt” He moved his hand to your cheek, cupping it gently.

    You lowered your gaze, unable to look him in the eyes right now.

    “And it’s normal” He reassured you “But to be honest with you… I don’t think you would be like this if you didn’t believe he loved you back” He admitted, prompting you to nod softly “You would just know that you couldn’t give in to your feelings and be firm about it… I was on the other side once, I should know it” He laughed, making you cringe for a second “If you love him and you really think he loves you back… I mean… Someone who comes to his enemy to ask for help for a friend couldn’t be that bad, hm?” He offered you, and this time you looked at him again, catching the disgust in his features.

    “Who would think that you would come to like him one day” You joked, chuckling as he scrunched his nose and retreated his hands from you, shaking his head eagerly to dismiss the thought.

    “Not a word about it to him!” He said threateningly, narrowing his eyes at you “If he comes even close to knowing that I don’t hate him that much now, I’ll make your life a living hell!” He grumbled, making you laugh wholeheartedly.

    “You know what?” You rested your cheek on your hand, leaning on the table “I think you deserve a hot dog tonight” You offered him, a grateful smile on your face “Really… Thank you for saying that” You sighed “I think… I mean… I knew it was the right choice but…” You cleared your throat “You inspire me to be bolder, Han” You cringed, hiding your face behind your hand “God! I’m so cheesy and emotional nowadays” You grimaced, making a gagging sound as you let your index go into your mouth jokingly.

    So maybe you were freaking out about your emotions… Maybe you were too afraid of being hurt and hurting him… Maybe you were terrified of not being enough for someone you loved so much. Again. Maybe you were terrified of not being able to support him… Maybe you were just too afraid to allow yourself to fully express your feelings for him… But that was why you were in therapy.

    You would learn how to deal with your struggles…

    Eventually, you wouldn’t be so afraid anymore…

    Eventually, you would learn to manage it.

[blackmissfrizzle]

The Barbershop (EZ Edition)

Angel’s Edition

Miguel’s Edition

Pairing: EZ Reyes x black!reader

Summary: The reader gets EZ ready for his patch party.

Warnings: Use of the n-word & smut

A/N: Thank you to @ly--canthrope​ for the EZ fluff prompts!  

A/N (2): I highly suggest listening to El Clavo while listening. Also, I think Nestor and Coco might be getting some attention from me, so be on the look out for that.

Prompts: 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice” 

Person scrunching their nose & other kisses them

When you got your first pair of clippers in high school, EZ was your first customer and ever since you’ve been cutting his hair. Even when he went off to college, EZ came back to Santo Padre to get his hari cut by his best friend. The only time you didn’t cut his hair was when he was in prison for those 8 years, but since he’s been back, he hasn’t missed an appointment.

Now here he was at your house with his hair longer than usual because he was busy with club shit. Luckily, he came by with enough time for you to do his hair before his patch party. “Ezekiel, please come to me before your hair gets this long again.”

He pinched your side as you moved around him. “Hey, you do Angel’s hair all the time and his hair is a shit ton longer than mines.”

“I’m used to Angel’s long locks! You’re supposed to be the clean-cut brother.” You stopped cutting his hair and moved the clippers in front of his face. “Oh, and if you pinch me again while I’m doing your hair, I’ll purposefully fuck up your hairline. Let’s see how many of those hang arounds will want your dick then.”

He held up his hands in surrender and mumbled his apologies, but not really meaning it. As long as you’ve been his best friend his favorite pastime was to rile you up. He loved how flustered you got when you couldn’t come up with a clever comeback. He loved how your hand slapped him across his body even if it was a little painful. He loved how your eyes widened in shock and he couldn’t help but wonder if that��s how you’ll look when he finally gets the chance to slip inside you.

Everyone was aware of his crush on you, except you. The only reason EZ didn’t tell you was because with the pair of you, timing was awful. When he realized he was in love with you, you had a boyfriend and when you broke up with that boyfriend EZ was with Emily. Then, he went off to prison and when he came back, he didn’t want to involve you with his mess, so he kept his distance. But he couldn’t wait anymore, he had to let you know.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” he grabbed your attention by lightly grazing your hip. “Yes, Ezekiel?” He let out a soft groan. He loved when you used his full name. It didn’t matter if you were yelling it excitement, teasing him, or scolding him, he just loved to hear it.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t say anything else because your phone started to ring. It was your sorta boyfriend, Rick. EZ couldn’t stand him. He was a douchebag that gave you more headaches than anything. And it was obvious to EZ that you didn’t love him. It was evident in the way you talked about him like an annoying chore. For the life of him, EZ didn’t understand why you kept him around.

“Oh, so now you’re coming? Well, just meet me there because EZ’s riding with me.” EZ couldn’t help to smile a bit at you putting Rick in his place. He tried to listen to Rick’s response, but he could only make out his tone and from that he could tell he was pissed. “Why? Nigga, I don’t have to give you a reason why my best friend is riding in my car.” Even though you were busy with your little argument your hand never faltered, cutting hair was second nature to you. “Ugh, if you must know its his party and I’m planning to get him plastered, so he needs a DD. That’s good with you? Oh, wait I don’t care,” You hung up the phone soon after that.

“Rick coming?” EZ managed to keep the disdain for him out of his voice. “Who knows? Probably be better if he stays but forget about him.” You turned off the clippers and brushed his hair, then gave EZ the mirror to inspect himself. After he gave his haircut a serious inspection, he started biting his lip and doing his signature pretty boy poses.

“Okay, Lothario if you’re done making out with yourself in the mirror, imma go take a shower to start getting ready.” As you turned to walk away, EZ grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him. “Thank you, querida.” He kissed your wrist and gave you those adorable puppy dog eyes. “No problem, EZ,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, then went to your bathroom to get ready and ignored your heart swelling up from EZ’s touch.

An hour later you were still getting ready and EZ was taking a shower. While you were applying on makeup, EZ walked into your room wet, fresh out the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. You knew EZ was ripped, but see it up close, my god there are no words.

EZ caught your staring in the mirror. “Like what you see?” He asked, flexing his pecs. “Ew, no!” You falsely claimed and scrunched up your nose in faux disgust.  EZ came up to you and kissed your nose before snatching your lotion off the dresser.  “You know what, you’re right. You love it.” EZ was so damn close to you that you could feel the heat of the shower radiating off of him.

“Yeah, I love it,” you deadpanned before pushing him away. “Now get ready. I don’t want you to be late to your own party.”

--

While EZ was having the time of his life, you were having the opposite. Rick ended up coming, but he was in a funky mood thus bringing your mood down. When his first words were something about how your dress wasn’t flattering, you made plans to break up with him. Using him as a distraction from EZ was draining your soul and you didn’t need that kind of energy in your life.

He made the breakup easier for you when you caught him in the restroom with one of Vicky’s girls with his dick in her mouth. You couldn’t even muster up any anger, instead you gave the girl and extra $100 for her troubles.

Although, getting cheated on sucked, what pissed you off the most was the girls all fawning over EZ. They were all over him like bitches in heat, rubbing on his chest, arms, and head, commenting on his haircut…your haircut. “Damn chica, just go claim your man.” Coco observed how you were sending death glares at the women.

“He’s not my man! He’s grown and can do whatever he wants.” You sputtered, surprised at being caught. “Exactly! If you weren’t too chicken, then he’d be your man.” Angel commented, taking a sip of his beer.

You ignored Coco’s and Angel’s somewhat encouraging words to look back at EZ. Your face instantly brightened when you saw how at ease he was. It wasn’t too often EZ could let go like this.

EZ felt a pair of eyes on him and when he found out it was you his eyes gleamed, he cracked that boyish smile and raised his beer to you. Excusing himself EZ made his way to you and gave you a hug. “Ezekiel, what’s with the hug?”

“I miss you.”

“You rode with me here, EZ.”

“Its Ezekiel and I barely talked to you since we’ve been here. Is it so bad that I want to party with my best friend?” You scrunched up your face. “I guess not.”

EZ hummed his appeasement and kissed your nose.  “Come dance with me.” He didn’t give you time to reject him. Tightly he tugged your hand and pulled you into the middle of the scrapyard.

Prince Royce and Maluma’s El Clavo began to play. EZ knew how much you loved this song, but since you didn’t know Spanish you didn’t understand the song. It was ironic to him that this song was playing tonight. Earlier, he saw how Angel escorted Rick out and the relief wash over you when you saw him leave. He knew Rick must’ve done something stupid. If it wasn’t for your need to avoid conflict, EZ would’ve beat his ass right then and there.

“What are you doing?” You questioned EZ as he placed his leg between yours and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Dancing obviously,” he chuckled near your ear sending vibrations throughout your body.

You decided not to fight him and followed his lead. There’s been plenty of times you’ve dance with EZ, but it was always playful and fun, but this…this was different, this was sensual. A passionate dance only meant to be shared between lovers.

“Eyes,” he ordered assertively. It was his command to you when he wanted you to feel what he was saying.

Si esta noche tu novio te bota (If tonight your boyfriend throws you out) Dile que tú no estás sola (Tell him that you are not alone) Que tú estás conmigo, que yo sí te cuido (That you are with me, that I do take care of you) No como ese idiota (no como ese idiota) (Not like that idiot (not like that idiot) Si esta noche tu novio te bota (If tonight your boyfriend throws you out) Dile que tú no andas sola (que no 'tás sola) (Tell him that you are not alone (that you are not alone) Que yo soy el clavo que saca ese clavo (That I am the nail that pulls that nail)

Y dile que se joda (And tell him to fuck) Maluma, baby

Your breath hitched as EZ began translating the lyrics to English. He had to be able to feel how fast your heart was beating. “There it is.” He pointed out. “There what is?”

“That look.” He tugged your bottom lip that you had tucked underneath your teeth. “What look?” Your breath brushed against his thumb and it took all his control not to pounce on you.

“Eyes blown out, chest heaving. See,” EZ gripped your chin to keep your eyes leveled with his. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. It’s the same look I have when I look at you.”

“Stop playing with me, Ezekiel.” Your heart couldn’t take it if this was some sort of joke. “I’m not.” His voice did not waver.

“What about Emily? Or Gabby?”

“Distractions. Distractions that kept me from the real thing for too long.” You sucked your teeth in disbelief. EZ decided to translate the song for you some more. If you weren’t going to believe his words, then maybe you’ll believe another’s.

Yo llevo la cuenta, esta es la quinta vez  (I keep track, this is the fifth time) Pero yo no entiendo por qué no lo ves   (But I don't understand why you don't see him) Tú estás demasiado buena para estar con él (mamacita) (You're too hot to be with him (mamacita)) Tremenda mujer para estar con él  (Tremendous woman to be with him) Y si te busca a las 4:20 porque te llama borracho  (And if he looks for you at 4:20 because he calls you drunk) Ahora te quiere pero mañana vuelve a hacerte daño (Now he loves you but tomorrow he will hurt you again) Por ese bobo no llores  (For that fool, don’t cry) Deja que yo te enamore (deja que yo te enamore)  (Let me make you fall in love (let me make you fall in love)

Now that you knew EZ’s feelings, the lyrics became much more intense for you. Instinctively, you rested your forehead on his. His lips hovered over yours so much that you could taste the beer on his breath. Your acrylic nails caressed the back of his head caused him to stop his translation and purr against your neck. “You like that, Ezekiel?” You teased, giggling against his neck.

“I don’t know,” EZ pressed up against you tighter so you could feel his hardon. “You tell me if it feels like I like it.”

Now or never, you thought. You brought your lips closer to EZ’s. The both of you fighting for dominance, but ultimately EZ won, claiming you in front of the club. It wasn’t until you heard the cheers of his brothers that he’d stop kissing you.

Instantly, EZ started pulling you in the direction of your car, but you stopped him. “I can’t wait, Ezekiel. I need you now.” EZ’s normally bright eyes darkened and he led you towards the clubhouse. On your way to the dorm room, both you and EZ ignored Angel when he told you, “Don’t be surprised when EZ starts crying.”

As the pair of you made it through the hallway, each of your touches got heavier, more daring. So daring that when you finally got to his dorm your dress was halfway off. The rest of the clothes fly off like a whirlwind except EZ’s jeans. In his rush he tripped over his jeans. “Oh, that’s funny?” He asked when he caught you giggling.

“Just a little.” EZ rushed to you, tackled you to the bed and quickly turned your giggles into soft moans as he kissed you.

Despite your best efforts to keep him close, EZ pulled away. He leaned back on his haunches and admired your body. “I can’t believe I finally have you.” He lifted your leg threw it over his shoulder and started kissing you from your ankle up to your inner thighs. “You know one night when I slept over at your place. I caught you touching yourself. Your hands flew to your face to cover up the embarrassment. “Oh god,” you mumbled.

EZ’s deep chuckle made you peek through your hands. “What are you embarrassed for? For that little 10 seconds, it was the sexiest thing I’ve seen, but it was so damn torturous in the most beautiful way. Do you know how hard it is to have that vividly replaying in my head and not have you?”

The whole time EZ was talking he was getting closer to your core, but you were hyper focused on his words that his mouth on your clit took you by surprise. “Shit,” you squealed underneath his tongue. With your hand you covered your mouth to keep your screams down. EZ lifted his head at your muffled screams. “No, let me hear you. Let me know how good I make you feel.”

Following his instructions, you removed your hand and that earned you an approving smile from EZ. “Good girl.” Before he returned to his meal, EZ grabbed you by the back of your neck, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

This time he added his fingers as he ate you out. The hold he had on you allowed no room for you to run, you had to stay there and take everything he was giving you. Add pussy eating to the long list of things that Ezekiel Reyes is great at.

Your hands shot out to EZ’s head. Scratching it was your best alternative since you had nothing to tug at. EZ raised his head, his mouth glistening from your cunt. “I bet you wish my hair was longer now.” He teased before diving right back in.

“EZ, I’m gonna cum.” You continued scratching the back of his head as he moved his tongue and fingers faster. “Cum all over my mouth, preciosa.” He murmured above your pussy.

An explosion. That was the only way you could describe your orgasm. It busted through your body, leaving you and EZ soaked. The evidence shone on his forearm, highlighting his veins, leaving you in a trance.

EZ noticed your staring at his arm. “Ride my forearm.” He demanded, excited that he’ll be able to get you off this way.

At first you were hesitant, but with EZ’s urging you hopped on it. You were experiencing immense pleasure and wanted EZ to experience the same. Tonight, was a celebration for him and this entire time his focus was on you. Completely selfless as usual. Reaching between your bodies, you began stroking him, smearing his precum all over his engorged head. “What are you doing?” He gasped, flexing his arm a bit more. “Tonight’s about you. I want to make you feel good.”

EZ nibbled at your chin. “I want you to cum all over my forearm, that’ll make me feel good.” You continued jerking him off while you rode him.

Who would’ve thought the rough ridges of his protruding veins and his constant flexing had you cumming a second time for the night? “Fuck we got to do that again!” You tried to nuzzle your face in EZ’s neck, but he wouldn’t let you because he was too busy kissing you all over your face. “EZ, I just came on your fucking arm.”

“Yeah and it was hot! I bet that douchebag couldn’t do that with his measly dick.” Slowly, he began to lay you down. “Now you’re about to cum all over my dick while screaming my name.”

Your now boyfriend made good on his promise. Opposed to Rick’s useless jackhammering, EZ made slow, powerful strokes, ensuring you were well taken care of.

He was tending to your body so well your eyes kept rolling to the back of your head. “Eyes!” He commanded harsher than ever before. When your eyes met his, you could see the struggle in his eyes. EZ wanted to be soft, gentle, and romantic, but deep down he wanted to fuck you hard, show you who you belong to.

“Make me yours, Ezekiel. Fuck me like you mean it.” It took him some time to process the words, but when he did his widened in realization that he got permission to let go. “Fuck, I love you.” He captured your lips in a searing kiss, hoping to communicate how much he loved you. “I love you too.” You told him as he had a bruising hold on your hips.

Gone was sweet soft Ezekiel. He was replaced by EZ, the harsh lover that’s gonna push you over the edge, then bring you back just to do it all over again.

Yours and EZ’s moans accompanied by the sound of bodies slapping together made a symphony that you would never get tired of. This was what you were missing for all those years apart.

“Make me proud. Cum all over this dick, querida.” EZ suckled your neck, branding you with his marks. “Ezekiel!” You cried out as your body combusted, almost feeling every molecule in your body. The newly patched Mayan silenced your cries with his mouth as he came soon after you.

EZ tried to lay in the bed with you but you refused. I t was his party and you were adamant that he enjoys it some more. You two can have your alone time later.

Just as you were sliding up your panties, EZ stuffed his fingers up your cum filled pussy. “Don’t want this leaking out.” He whispered, giving you a cheeky grin as you moaned at his ministrations.

“Okay, that’s enough you nasty ass kids. Playtime is over! Time to get fucked up, baby bro. I’m sure Y/N wants to forget the last 30 seconds.” Angel banged on the door.

“That was nice while it lasted.” You slipped your dress over your head and fixed your hair. EZ hummed his agreeance and led you out the door and ignored the childish jeering from his brothers. They could tease all they want, because as long as he has you, he doesn’t give a damn.

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[amphxtrite]

remus lupin x fem!reader

warning: Swearing, spelling/ grammar mistakes

summary: You and Remus have had a rivalry since the day you met, what happens when the two of you start to feel more?

word count: 3.1k

enjoy<3

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You and Remus Lupin had a… Complicated history, It wasn’t anything really bad, just a childhood nemesis, someone to always be better than. That was all it was for a couple years, a strange rivalry between two children. It all began back during first year, in your very first Defense Against the Dark Art class. You were ecstatic to begin your very first lesson. You sat right at the very front of the room and quickly brought out and organized all your parchment, quills and textbooks, patiently folding your hands onto your desk and waiting with a smile on your face for class to begin. You heard a snicker behind you, and turned to see four boys enter the class, all laughing and whispering behind their hands, you turn back around as the professor walks into the room to begin the lesson.

“Hey would you mind if I sat next to you?” you heard a small voice call from beside you as the professor scribbles something on the board. You look over to see one of the loud students who’d entered the class, a sandy-haired boy with scars littering his face. “Of course,” you say with a smile, thinking this was a chance to make a new friend, but you were proven wrong when the boy simply nodded, put his stuff down and turned to the table beside theirs, to talk to the boys from before. You hid your disappointment by turning back to the teacher.

“Welcome to your first Defense Against the Dark Arts class students!” Professor Sterling, as you learned his name was, called out, “In this class I will be teaching you about defensive spells and possible beasts you could face, to protect yourselves from the dangers of the dark arts, now!” He clapped his hands together. “Who can give me three examples of creatures that will be talked about in this class, hm?” He questions. Two hands shoot up. “Yes Miss L/n?” He points to your hand. “Boggarts, Vampires, and Werewolves.” You state confidently, “Good, 5 points to y/h. Now, what about three spells that will be used in this class?” He questions again. The same two hands shoot up. “Mr. Lupin?” He points to the boy next to you. “Flipendendo, Expelliarmus, and Verdimillious.” He replies, you drop your hand defeated. “Splendid! 5 points to gryffindor.” The boy smiles shyly. The class continues like this, the professor asking a question and the two of you racing to answer before the other. It was an unconscious thing, the two of you hadn’t realized you were competing until you felt your heart race, as a question was asked, and the feeling of anger replacing disappointment when your hand wasn’t picked. It was frustrating to say the least, you were so excited to show off your knowledge in this class and now here was this boy stealing your thunder. You could tell he felt the same though, the frustration in his face when Professor Sterling chose you gave it away.

By the end of the class you were almost seething, the only thing keeping you from hexing the boy was your common sense, and even that was running thin. You tried to keep your composure as you walked out of the class, but you were very obviously muttering curses under your breath. The only thing that got you to stop was the professor telling you on the way out of the class that you were a bright young witch, unfortunately followed by Lupin being complimented as well. You huffed.

That was how the rivalry between you and Remus began, you’d learned his name through Lily Evans, your first friend. She found it funny how competitive you were, not thinking you’d go this far on it. She spent a good chunk of her time prying books out of your hands or hearing you complain about Remus, and that happened a lot.

“I’m seriously starting to believe you fancy him, you speak about him so much!” She huffed out after a bad rant in your third year. “Me? And Lupin?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I have no idea what you’re going on about.” But Lily could swear she saw a pink blush coming about on your cheeks and she knew for a fact that the warm fall air wasn’t the cause, she smiled and decided to let this play out.

For four years, four fucking years, you’d been at it with Lupin and both of you showed no sign of stopping. At any time both you and Remus could be seen reading DADA textbooks, books, and journals of famous wizards, With one goal in your mind, to beat one another. The two of you both started strong in this competition, but you had to admit you were tired of this petty rivalry and really had no problem with Remus, but for some reason you just wouldn’t let up, your competitive demeanor taking over every time you tried to resolve something with him. You decided it would be best just to slowly ease out of your tense situation with the gryffindor and try to focus on your studies instead of just beating Remus. You didn’t raise your hand at every question, spent more time socializing over studying, and didn’t make any sarcastic comments when he got an answer right, just simply continued on with the class. At first Remus thought he was victorious, that he’d finally beaten the y/h witch, deemed one of the brightest students at Hogwarts, and he was happy about it, but he felt he didn’t really care. In fact he missed the constant banter with you. He didn’t like the rivalry between you two either, but he still enjoyed playfully arguing with you over small things and seeing the competitive look in your eyes.

“L/n’s been pretty quiet recently,” James remarks, “I think you did it mate, I think you finally outsmarted her!” He laughs, clapping Remus on the back. The rest of the group looked unsure, especially Remus. Peter pipes up quietly, “I don’t know James, I saw her notebook just yesterday and she already had everything about today's lesson written down, there’s no way she could’ve been stumped.” Sirius rolls his eyes, “You guys can’t be that confused right?, y/n probably just got tired of this petty battle, they’ve been at it almost, what? Four years now? You can’t say you’re not tired, can you Moony?” Sirius rolls his eyes. Remus remains quiet, thinking it over. “I guess not, but for some reason I almost miss it, at least she talked to me then.” Remus sighs leaning back onto the couch in the common room. It was no secret to the Marauders that the shy brunette had accumulated feelings for his little rival over the years, secretly looking forward to DADA classes for the soul purpose of seeing you.

“Well you could try talking to her, y’know, normally?” James suggests with a shrug. Remus sighs “I guess, but you guys know I couldn’t, I could possibly put her in danger, or, what if I lose control and hurt her or worse-”

Sirius scoffs, “Oh sod off Moony, if this is about your, furry little problem, the last person you’d need to worry about is y/n, she’s a master in Defense Against the Dark Arts, not only would she be fine with it, but she she probably knows all about werewolves! Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she already knew.” Sirius finishes, avoiding his friend’s shocked eyes at his small outburst, but someone had to say it. “Well- you have to admit he has a point.” Peter says turning back to Remus. “I’ve worked with y/n before for a project on werewolves bites, and she actually finds werewolves are misunderstood.” He continues.

Remus looks between his friends, and sighs, “I don’t have a choice but to give this a go, do I?” James grins, “c’mon Moony, you know, you two are practically made for each other!” He nudges his best friend, wiggling his eyebrows knowingly. “James!” Remus shoves his head into hands, a red blush coating his cheeks. “W-what should I even talk about? What if she doesn’t want to talk? Maybe she still hates me and I’d mess this all up if I talk to her!” Remus begins to ramble.

“What are you twats going on about?” A voice calls out, Lily emerges from the portrait door, oh no. “Moony’s got a crush!” James calls out. Remus shoots James a death glare, cursing the fact he was head over heels for y/n’s best friend. “Oh really? Who’s the lucky girl?” Lily laughs, walking over to the other gryffindors. Remus speaks before James can say anything else. “It doesn’t matter! Haha, how are you Lily?” He tries to steer the conversation away from his love life, but is unsuccessful. “Good..? Remus, what’s got you so nervous? I won’t tell, you know that.”

Oh, I don’t know, she's your best friend that probably hates me, that I pretended to hate for 4 years, you know, just things I talk about on the daily. Remus thinks to himself sarcastically. Lily’s mouth drops open. Oh shit he said that out loud.

“You fancy y/n?” Lily’s mouth remains agape. Remus winces, “Maybe? Is that a bad thing?” He questions, crossing his fingers for a good answer. “Well bloody hell Lupin, I did not see this coming that’s for sure!” The red-head lets out a laugh. “y/n almost never talks about her love life though so I can’t say much, just know that she’s never hated you, just got caught up y’know.” She plops down on the sofa across from the boys, Remus nods. “So, when did this happen?” Lily questions fixing her eyes on the shy boy. “W-well it’s hard to say really,” Remus furrows his brows, in thought, one memory stands out.

“One day, while I was studying, in second year I think, I noticed y/n sitting at another table scanning a textbook, and well, I felt different, she didn’t seem like the annoying girl in Defence Against The Dark Arts anymore, she was beautiful, and from there it only got worse.” Remus feels himself think back to that day, how your hair cascaded perfectly down your face, and how your lips were slightly parted while you read. He remembered his heart speeding up before he dashed out of the library, very confused. “Aw, that’s so sweet Moony.” Sirius teases making kissy faces at his friend. Remus feels his face heat up again. “Sirius quit teasing him, it’s cute!” Lily scolds the dark-haired Marauder, when suddenly her face lights up. “You know, y/n’s in the library, right now, you should go down and talk to her!” Lily suggests. James stands up and tugs on Remus’s arm to pull him to his feet. “Excellent idea my Lily flower, let’s go now!” Sirius and Peter stand and follow behind, ignoring Remus’s small attempts at objection. Lily catches up to Remus and James as they make their way out of the portrait door.

“Just be casual Remus, everything will be okay.” She reassures. It didn’t help Remus’s racing heart.

The group steps into the library and spots you at a table by a window, slowly scratching a quill against parchment. They walk closer to you and poke their heads around to look at you. You glance up at the Marauders, “Um, hi guys?” you greet awkwardly. “Good to see you y/n, hate to interrupt, but Remus wanted to talk to you.” James pushes the adorable brunette forwards before rushing off followed by Sirius, Peter and… Lily, you narrowed your eyes, what was going on? Brushing it off you look up at the gryffindor boy. “You can take a seat if you want Lupin.” You offer, picking your quill up again. “Oh, thanks y/n.” He sits in the chair right beside you. “Now how can I help you? If you need help with anything you can just ask.” You state scribbling down some notes in your notebook. “A-actually, um, I’d just like to talk to you y/n, about… You.” Remus begins to panic, did that sound right? Oh Merlin he was an idiot. You turn to him with a shocked expression.

“Me? Um- sure Lupin, ask away I guess?” You give him a small smile, “as long as we can talk about you too.” You add, feeling bold. Remus lights up, “Yeah, yeah. That sounds great! Alright, where did your love for Defense Against the Dark Arts come from?” He asks, genuinely interested. “Oh,” Your eyes light up. “My father is an Auror and throughout my childhood he’d tell me all about his adventures, and his victories fighting dark wizards and all that sort. I thought it was amazing, so I started to read all about it, wanting to be just like him once I grew up.” You grin broadly.

Your conversation continues, you talk about your childhoods, dreams, goals, ambitions and your favourite books. You learn a lot about the shy brunette boy you never really gave a chance too. You learn he has a love for chocolate, every single kind. He also loves books, enjoying muggle literature in particular, and that he also wants to become an Auror, to protect people and to help the world from dark magic. You found this very admirable and saw that little boy from your first DADA class in a different light. He wasn’t the annoying boy who stole all your thunder anymore, he was the boy that was also just trying to follow his dreams and help the people he loved. You smiled as you listened to him go on about a book he was currently reading, watching his eyes sparkle and his smile widen, it was strange thinking of Remus this way, sure you’d thought the brunette gryffindor was cute, but you’d always tried to shut yourself down when you thought of anything more, so when you found yourself hanging onto his every word and glancing down to his soft pink lips every now and again, you knew something was up. Your past self would’ve kicked you for this, but you found yourself giving into those inevitable feelings for Remus Lupin, and it just felt… Right. This change of heart left no doubt in your mind, and a light flush made its way onto your cheeks.

Remus could’ve sworn he was on cloud nine when he saw the beautiful pink blush come onto your cheeks, was he right? Did you feel the same? He was so happy to be talking to you about anything and everything that he didn’t even realize the Saturday sun turned into night and soon Madam Pince was pushing them out the door. The two of you laughed, taking a walk around the castle, neither of you wanting the conversation to end. You decided to stay in the Clocktower Courtyard for a bit, sitting next to each other on a bench. Remus watches you stare into the night sky, he sees your face relax and he smiles when he sees you close your eyes and take a deep breath of the night air. He thanked his lucky stars there wasn’t a full moon soon, or he would’ve missed this magical day with you. He lets a couple words slip out of his mouth he didn’t intend to say today. “You’re so beautiful y/n.” He sees your eyes widen and your face go pink. “Thanks Remus.” You say smiling back. Godric, his heart swelled when he heard you say his name. Not Lupin anymore, Remus. He felt himself lean in, years of yearning getting the better of him, and felt his forehead touch yours. “I’ve fancied you since second year you know?” He confessed suddenly, “that day you saw me run out of the library was the day I knew.” He saw a smile spread across your face. “Oh Remus that’s so sweet.” suddenly your eyebrows furrow. “Listen, I’m sorry about my arrogance. I was annoyed that you were just as smart as I was and I let a kid’s jealousy get in the way of really getting to know you and I want to apologize for that-” Remus cuts you off. “Darling, it’s alright, we were children, what matters is how you feel now.” Remus cups your hand in one of his, searching your eyes for any sign he should stop, “I- like you too Remus, I think I have for a while, just been to dumb to notice it.” You giggle, looking down at your interlocked hand. Remus places his fingers on your chin and lifts your face so you’re eye to eye again. He pauses, silently asking if this is alright. You nod and he grins, pressing his lips to yours, a rush of heat flows through your body and you're overwhelmed with happiness. Remus can feel he’s practically beaming into the kiss, he can’t believe it, he’s kissing you, he’s actually kissing you! The kiss is chaste at first, but you soon cup his face and pull him closer to you, reaching behind his head to run a hand through his soft curls. Remus sighs at the feeling and you take the opportunity to explore his mouth with your tongue, taking in the taste of chocolate and minty toothpaste. You pull back after a couple seconds, taking steady breaths. “Wow.” You murmur smiling at the boy in front of you. “Can we do it again?” Remus asks, still in a daze with a stupid grin on his face. You lean in again and can feel his lips brush yours before you hear whispers.

“Move over Pads, I can’t see!”

“Shove off James.”

“Ow, Peter that’s my foot!”

“Oh My Godric they kissed!”

There’s a loud crash. You look over to see Sirius, James, Peter and Lily in a pile on the ground, all sporting guilty looks on their faces. “Um- Congrats you two! We were just heading back to the common rooms!” Lily stutters out, removing herself from the pile and quickly walking off with the rest of the group hot on her tail.

You and Remus look at one another before bursting into a fit of laughter, unable to get the look on the group’s faces when they were caught out of your heads. Remus slowly stands up, offering a hand to you, “We should probably get going, love. It’s getting real dark.” You nod and take his hand. Remus pulls you close to him and you stand there for a couple more seconds, “You know, I still don’t believe this is happening, that this isn’t a dream, you’re really here in my arms.” Remus confesses nuzzling his nose to yours. You smile gently and press a kiss to his lips. “Well, you better get used to it, cuz I’m not going anywhere.” You quip gently, wrapping your arms slightly tighter around the handsome gryffindor. You can feel him tighten his arms around you as well. “There’s nothing I’d love more.” he whispers into your ear.

[capstoverogers]

A Soul for a Soul - Chapter 2

Pairings: Past Natasha Romanoff/Black!Reader, Eventual Carol Danvers/Black!Reader

Genre: Grief/Angst

Warnings: Mention of Characters' Death, Cursing, Lots o' Sad

Word Count: 3,016

Chapter 1

-----

There was a party raging on the battlefield, because no one didn’t know what else to do, except you all knew Tony would want you to celebrate. But maybe everyone just wanted to put off mourning till morning, didn’t quite yet want to deal with the consequences, for better or for worse.

It was an easier concept to swallow when Thor and his pretty warrior friend with the flying horse disappeared for a moment, then came back in minutes with as much Asgardian beer and liquor as they could manage (which, between the two of them, was a whole damn lot). A friend of Rocket’s - Star Lord - then took the charge, cracking open the first beer and finishing off half it in a single gulp before blasting some mix tape of 70s tunes from his space ship that soon turned the battlefield, this graveyard, into an all-out function.

The largest fire you’d ever seen raged where the compound once stood, courtesy of Zoey, and bodies started to move under the moonlight, freely to the music, helped of course by the copious amount of liquor that helped bury down any sense of sadness in favor of this celebration.

You couldn’t focus, though. You still hadn’t managed to find Nat in this swarm of familiar and strange faces, and she was the only one you wanted to see. Once you had her in your arms, then you could let yourself celebrate - or at least you could try. Even as everyone slowly started to let loose, there was this permeating sense of sadness, as prevalent as the cascades of smoke soaring upward from the fire, as no one could escape the thought of the sacrifice that allowed you all to celebrate like this.

It was like everything was in the way, though, and you supposed you could give a few minutes to these friends who you hadn’t seen in years before you found your wife.

“I can’t believe you’re married!” Zoey was gushing as you stood in a small circle with Bucky, Sam and Steve; the superpowered were wielding Asgardian drinks while the rest of you eyed their bottles enviously. You couldn’t help but grin, showing off the simple, but sleek vibranium band on your finger as Sam pretended to squeal like a valley girl with a hand to his chest and Bucky shot you a simple grin as he held out his metal arm.

“We match.”

You beamed at him, though not with the fervency of Steve, who hadn’t pulled his eyes from the Winter Solider for a second since the battle had ended. Well, except to urgently meet your eyes, seemingly desperate to pull you away for a private moment. You didn’t know why - didn’t know if you wanted to know why - and found yourself avoiding his gaze as it drifted to the crowds of people, hoping to catch the one face you wanted to see above all else.

“I feel like I know no one,” Zoey murmured beside me, also taking in all the people around her. “It’s weird to think that it’s been five years. It felt like…a malfunction. One second I was gone and the very next second, I was here, like nothing happened. Like the world had just…glitched.”

“Like a blip,” Bucky said knowingly. Zoey nodded with a frown, then perked up when the Jackson 5 started blaring from the speakers. She turned eagerly to you, already drifting to where Star Lord had started up a makeshift dance floor.

“We gotta dance!”

Sam was nodding fervently, a little grin playing at his lips as he started to move easily to the beat. You grinned a little, but you were still so distracted, especially as you could sense Steve about to interject, his eyes once again set on you, and you couldn’t get caught in a conversation with him. As much as you truly loved him, they tended to be endless.

“I’ll meet y’all out there,” you assured, backing away before their protests could fully reach your ears. “Gotta find Nat.”

“(Y/N)…” Steve started, but Zoey beat him to it as she nodded with a grin.

“Oh, I bet you do,” she said, eyebrows waggling ridiculously, and man, you missed this. You laughed heartily, then turned away, starting to feel desperate the deeper you got in the crowd. It had been over an hour - where had she been?

You finally caught a glimpse of Clint, who had seemingly changed into his civilian clothes, your heart spiking when you saw that he was talking to someone who his body mostly obscured, but you could tell it was a woman shorter than him. Of course your best bet would be to find Nat with Clint; she’d probably got caught up in the crowd and reunion just like you did, but just like he’d promised before he left, Clint was still looking out for your girl.

Before you could make my way over to them, though, you found yourself colliding straight into Peter’s strong chest. He stumbled back, the profuse apology already tumbling off of his lips, only slowing down when he noticed it was you. All thoughts of making your way to Natasha fled from your mind as you took in your friend’s red eyes, half-empty bottle of aged Asgardian liquor in his hand and the sway in his step.

“How are you, Pete?” You asked, stepping close so he could hear your voice, soft with compassion and concern.

“Drunk,” he hiccuped with a brief, bright smile that reminded you of the fifteen year old boy you had met years ago before it quickly faded. “And sad.”

Peter was always the type to wear his heart on his sleeve - one of the things that hadn’t changed about him, along with his forever gentle and earnest brown eyes. Even as he sprouted up - shoulders broader and jaw firmer and covered in the scruff he hadn’t gotten a chance to shave off yet - he was still Peter. Just a wearier, more mature one, but still always filled with a hope that had helped fuel you all.

As much as your own heart hurt over the loss of Tony, it hurt even more seeing clearly how it was affecting Peter. You’d never seen him drunk before. Granted, it took a lot of Earth liquor for someone like him to even get a buzz, but the way his words slurred off of his tongue was telling.

“I’m sorry, Pete.”

He shrugged, eyes glazing over for a second before his attention drifted to the music. He perked up slightly.

“Hey, is that Zoey?!” He smiled a little in wonder, eyes honing in on The Flame as she figuratively burned a hole in the makeshift dance floor. She had attracted the attention of a drunk Star Lord, who was laughing as she showed everyone up. “Wow. I haven’t seen her in…”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as he struggled to count.

“Five years,” you supplied, your smile more soft than mocking as he turned back to you with an eager nod. “You go say ‘hi.’ She’ll like that. I’m gonna find Nat.”

“Okay!” Peter chirped, seemingly drunk and distracted enough by Zoey to let his sadness fall to the wayside, at least for a moment. He began to stumble towards her, but stopped, something pensive crossing his gaze. “It’s not weird anymore.”

You furrowed your brow at him, “What’s not weird?”

“If me and her went out. S’not weird anymore ‘cause I’m grown up.”

You chuckled fondly at how ironically boyish he sounded. Peter’s crush on Zoey back in the day had bordered on infamous with how completely obvious it was, but of course she had seen him as nothing but a little brother, with the nine year age difference and all.

But you guessed that was a four year age difference now.

“Better get on it before that Star Douche dude does,” you said, nodding to how the aforementioned space punk was dancing a little too closely to Zoey in a way that was almost rhythmic and would have maybe been charming if you weren’t already decidedly Team Peter Parker. You clapped Peter on the back, and you grinned at each other. He started to sway towards the dance floor, his shoulders bouncing to the beat, and you watched him for a second.

“Hey Peter?”

He looked at you curiously over his shoulder. You offered him a small smile.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you said. “I know it doesn’t really feel like it now, but…we’ll get through this too.”

You were happy to see his smile sincere, no matter how small it was. He nodded once, then turned back towards Zoey and the dance floor, finally leaving you to make your way to Natasha.

Except as you got closer to Clint, you realized that he wasn’t talking to Nat, but his wife, who he must’ve fetched from their home - along with their kids - and brought back to the celebration. You furrowed your brow at how even from across the way, you could notice how red his eyes were as his shoulders seemed permanently slumped. Tony meant a lot to everyone, but you hadn’t expect to see Clint that affected.

“(Y/N)!”

You let out a sigh as you recognized Steve’s voice from behind. In a second, his long steps led him right in front of you, this striking mix of urgency and tragedy saturating his blue eyes as he gazed down at you.

“I need to talk to you,” he said in a quiet, serious tone. He took ahold of your wrist, firmly but gently, and you knew you had no chance of pulling away from his grip.

“Can it wait?” you pleaded, your head started to crane around again. “I just really want to see Nat.”

When you looked back at him, something had completely crumbled in his gaze as he stared down at you, and you knew immediately. You think you knew the second you’d stepped foot on the battlefield and hadn’t seen her, hadn’t felt her, but had buried the feeling down deep, because it couldn’t be true.

“(Y/N)…”

“No,” you said, shaking your head as you tried to step back, though Steve’s tightened grip held you in place. “Steve, no.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No.” Your voice stretched and cracked as your eyes started to sting. This wasn’t happening. You were misreading this. Nat was about to come up to you at any second, wrap her arms around your waist, assure you that she was there, that everything was okay.

“To get the soul stone, it required a sacrifice,” Steve said, voice strained and eyes pained, and slowly you started to feel everything crumble around you. “A soul for a soul. Clint tried to stop her, tried to give his life, but you know Nat…”

He tried to smile; it didn’t hit.

You did know Nat. How she always felt like she wasn’t doing enough. How she never felt like she had fully atoned for the darkness of her past. How big and noble her heart was, how she would do whatever it took to complete the mission, if it meant it would save you all.

It’s why you loved her so much.

It felt like your chest was about to collapse on itself. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see through the mess of tears streaming down your face. This couldn’t be real.

You could feel Steve’s arm start to come around you, but you pulled away, shaking your head as he stared at you helplessly. He was one of the greatest heroes Earth had ever known.

But there was nothing he could do about this.

-----

One shot of Asgardian liquor, and you were done. Thor wasn’t kidding about that shit.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. Could’ve been ten minutes. Could’ve been three hours. You sort of wished that it was the rest of your life, that Thanos would’ve managed that snap before Tony snatched the glove away from him - then you wouldn’t have to feel.

The next best thing, though? Being fucking drunk. The ache was there, but it was more numb. Your head unconsciously swayed to the music, fainter from where you sat in the dirt, yards away from the party. You fingered your wedding band and felt so fucking empty, but somehow it was okay, because you were drunk.

You wanted to kill Clint. He told you he’d look out for her. You trusted him to fucking look after her.

Then you remembered how broken he looked when you’d caught a glimpse of him and realized that if there was anybody who could understand how you were feeling, how you were trying not to feel, it was him.

You were rooted to the spot, though. Maybe you’d never move again. Why did it have to be Nat who went to that dumb planet to get that stupid stone? It couldn’t have been anyone else? No one knew what you’d have to lose in order to win?

You heard footsteps approaching, and usually your reflexes were sharp (you hadn’t climbed your way up the S.H.I.E.L.D. hierarchy by being slow, after all. You wondered what your job would be now that Fury and Hill were surely back. You wondered if you’d make it past this night), but it took you a long second to pull your head up from where you had been staring at your ring.

You squinted at the strong-stanced blonde hovering carefully a few feet away from you. Her figure was imposing, but somehow you could tell that her eyes were soft.

“Hey,” you coughed up a hiccup, “hey, Carol.”

She looked amused and pitying at the same time as she nodded, taking a slow step closer.

“Hey (Y/N),” she said softly. She glanced down at the bottle perched in the dirt by your feet, chanced a small smirk. “I don’t think that stuff’s made for people like you.”

“You mean us mere mortals?” You slurred with a stupid, bitter sort of grin followed by a hollow chuckle.

Her own grin was drowning in the pity now.

“Yeah. No offense.”

You shrugged. You didn’t care. Nothing like spending the past decade with a bunch of super-humans to make one deeply confront their own mortality. You’d reckoned with your normalcy a long time ago, the fact that you’d never be as great as them, no matter how hard you tried.

“How about sad people?” You said after a moment.

Her brow furrowed, puzzled.

“Sad people,” you reiterated with a slur. “This shit made for sad people? ‘Cause I’m…” You frowned for a moment. “Not sad. ‘Cause sad’s a feeling, and I don’t think I have those anymore.”

You were kind of confused by the understanding in Carol’s eyes, and you realized you knew next to nothing about her. You knew she’d saved Tony, Peter and Nebula from space five years ago, and she was possibly the most powerful being you’d ever seen. You knew she’d known Fury since you were a child and that you liked her. She felt safe without trying, was witty and to-the-point and was really easy to get along with. She’d swing by the compound to check in, every few months, and it was always nice when she did.

“I heard what happened.” You don’t know when, but suddenly Carol was sitting next to you, and you think she was trying to drown you in sympathy as she looked intently, but gently at you. “I’m sorry.

You peered at her for a long second, then shook your head.

“You can say her name, you know,” you announced, strangely angry at the vagueness of her statement, like you were fragile, like your entire childhood hadn’t been marred by loss and struggle. “Natalia Romanova. Natasha Romanoff to us dumb Americans.” You gave a laugh that came out more as a hiccup. “Black Widow. My wife.”

You ran your fingers across your wedding band as Carol watched quietly. You couldn’t really read her gaze, didn’t really care to, but she’d stopped looking at you like you were the most pathetic creature in the world, so that was nice at least.

The two of you were silent for a moment. You kept playing with your wedding band. You and Natasha had been married for one month, two weeks, three days. You thought you’d have forever. Everything burned. Your eyes, your throat, your chest.

“I lost a wife too.”

Your head snapped up. Carol was staring off towards the party, the fire still going strong.

“The same one, three different times,” she continued with a dry chuckle. “I won’t lie, it’s different than your situation, but…”

She shrugged, turning her head towards you with a slight smile.

“I know what it’s like, feeling like your entire life has been ripped away from you and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m the biggest bad ass in the universe,” she gave a self-aware smirk, and it actually made you grin a little, “but I still couldn’t get her back.”

Helpless. That’s exactly how you felt. You’d always been able to get what you wanted, even against the most seemingly insurmountable odds - you had grown up an orphan in the hood, for Christ’s sake. But now there was this, and you knew you couldn’t get what you wanted this time. As hard as you tried, as much as you worked, what could you possibly do in the end?

You wanted to cry. You just hiccuped instead, then appraised Carol curiously.

“She didn’t die three times, though,” you said with drunken certainty. “Your wife.”

“No. Just the last time,” Carol said simply. Her words surprised you; you’d assumed maybe Carol’s wife had been snapped away but was back now. “I lost her a long time before that, though.”

There was steadiness, a resignation to the sadness that tinged her otherwise cool voice.

“Oh.” You shifted a little. “Sorry.”

She shrugged, meeting your eyes again.

“Me too.”

Taglist: @afuckingshituniverse

[catboylupin]

you have rly interesting takes abt wolfstar!! I was wondering if you had any head canons about the Prank like why Sirius did it and what Remus' reaction was?

hello and thank you and i’m So sorry that this has been sitting in my drafts for like Weeks at this point.... i’m physically incapable of doing anything intellectually demanding in a timely matter and this is such a hard topic because, like, i don’t know!! i’m not very well acquainted with the Fandom Mythology surrounding the Prank or the mainstream interpretation of events so i really don’t know what to make of it, especially in terms of sirius’s motivation. here are a few things that i referenced when typing this all out: meta meta/fic fic beautiful art 

the first thing that is interesting to me, and something to keep in the back of our minds when thinking about this, is that when discussing the prank in the shack during PoA, sirius says that “it served [snape] right.” 

also i think that the song hospital by the modern lovers possesses some outstanding post Prank vibes...

ok so re: sirius’s motivation. i don’t know. i think it was a combination of things. i don’t even think that sirius entirely knew why he did it, or what there was to gain. 

i guess the thing to sort out is to what extent sirius factored remus into the equation. was he not thinking about remus at all and how it would affect him and just wanted to hurt snape because he hated him, or was he like “this is for remus and remus will think it’s funny too”?

i think that he felt slightly goaded by snape because snape was being a massive asshole trying to get them expelled, and he also just did not like him at all. like, the most obvious motivation or end goal in sirius telling him is that he just wanted to scare snape so he would leave them alone and also it would be a little funny because hahaha he is a slimey wizard nazi (at age 15/16 do you think sirius would be politically advanced enough to have a ‘punching nazis’ outlook on snape? i don’t know)

and i don’t think that he ever seriously thought that remus would react well (like, how could he? sirius had to have known that remus’s worst fear ever was hurting someone). and he was literally risking the entire school finding out he was a werewolf. but maybe a small part of sirius was like “take that snape!! that’s what you get for bullying my beautiful mysterious friend!! remus will love this lol”

but i think the thing that makes the most sense is that he wasn’t thinking about remus that much and didn’t think he would react well.

and here i where you can start thinking about sirius’s upbringing and how that affected how he viewed werewolves/remus. 

i think that sirius was probably raised surrounded by some pretty intense anti-werewolf beliefs and he dealt with remus being a werewolf by 1. separating remus from the wolf and 2. kind of like romanticizing it. so much of sirius’s attraction to remus stemmed from this sort of fascination.. james was so similar to sirius and generally uncomplicated, but remus, even though he was kind of weird looking, always sort of elicited this morbid curiosity from him. and he saw remus’s lycanthropy as something he could fix, or at least help (see: the animagus thing, my personal headcanon that he was very into taking care of remus during their relationship). remus was his tragic werewolf friend. but remus never thought that sirius understood his lycanthropy the way remus wanted him to, that there was always this sort of tension, a lingering sense of “you think you’re so different from your family, but you’re not really.”  

sirius could have thought that snape actually knew about remus and wanted to make him prove that he knew, like: “sirius, i know what remus’s secret is, hint hint wink wink” “okay, if you really know then go to the shrieking shack,” like snape kind of goaded sirius into telling him, and sirius thought that he would know better. but that is just such a profoundly stupid thing for sirius to do, and i feel like putting too much blame on snape is being too generous to sirius.

leescoresbies has an interesting headcanon that the prank happened around the time sirius ran away from home and he was thus was very emotionally volatile. and so it was in part a result of sirius’s trauma/anger/joy, and i like that idea, those emotions had to have been a factor. and if you are someone that has a really hard time reconciling with sirius’s shitty behavior as a teen, that’s kind of an easy/ canon compliant way of saying “yeah, he was an asshole, but there was also this other thing going on...etc.” however, i don’t think that was the only reason, or even the main reason. i think that sirius is a deeply flawed person and thinking about the prank from the perspective of said flawed-ness makes his and remus’s relationship all the more complicated/interesting. 

and unfortunately a lot of this sort of boils down to whether or not sirius wanted to kill or seriously injure snape. those were the stakes he was dealing with in this situation. i don’t think that sirius wanted to kill him, just because that’s not really the sort of thing teenagers do, you know. and, as further evidenced by how he treated kreacher, sirius doesn’t always treat those he considers lesser than him with any sort of respect. maybe sirius just didn’t care that much about whether or not he died. he knew on an intellectual level that he was sending snape to his likely death, but maybe he just didn’t make that calculation in the moment? like sirius was so used to not facing consequences that maybe he thought things wouldn’t turn out that badly. 

i can understand, maybe, in sirius’s version of events, in his own reckless, teenage narrative, that he thought it would be okay to hurt snape. but remus? did he seriously fail to make the calculation that he would be turning him into a murderer? what sirius did was such a major, major trespass of trust/friendship in a way that is actually sort of unforgivable.

doesn’t sirius say in PoA “i’d rather die than betray my friends!” ? well, he did : / he betrayed remus..

and i think that remus would be massively upset and i don’t think he ever really completely forgave him.

when did this happen? 5th or 6th year? i think that by this time remus would kind of be relegated to a state of melodramatic, shame-ridden misery that came along with being sort of in love with sirius. and so the prank really tore him apart, because of course it would. remus was so used to being defined by his lycanthropy, used to facing discrimination, and his friends were his one refuge from that. but then sirius who he loved used him basically as a means to an end. what sirius did was incredibly exploitative— he exploited remus’s marginalized identity for personal gain without thinking about how it would affect him. and i think that remus really did care about him enough to want to forgive him. he probably felt like he had to forgive him (his friends were too important for him to lose, and, importantly, there was probably this feeling of “i am a werewolf and therefore i need to be extraordinarily forgiving in order to be perceived as non threatening, and this is just how the world treats people like me and i can’t and shouldn’t fight back”). and those are just such deeply fucked up feelings to feel towards a friend, especially one you admire and have a major soul crushing crush on.

i think that there was a period of time after the fact when they weren’t really talking, remus was very rightfully upset, everyone was angry at sirius... i think that sirius apologized, but sort of begrudgingly. because twenty years later he still thought that snape got what he deserved. 

at times i think that remus was someone who saw his relationships as very transactional. and initially he felt in debt to the other marauders because of the animagus thing and just because they were his friends. and, as dear @direwolf-summer said in this post, the prank changed the dynamic between remus and sirius: remus was no longer the one in debt, sirius was. and that is such an interesting point. remus starts demanding more from him and he finally feels that, even though sirius was really popular and closer to james or whatever, they were on even standing. this is how he was able to be more forward about his feelings— sirius stopped being this precious object who demanded endless patience in order to retain as a friend (or so he thought, this is remus’s insecurity showing). he stopped feeling so bad about having a crush on sirius. he’d be like “fuck you sirius. i’m in love with you. deal with it and you have to be nice about it in order to repay your debts.” like  he wouldn’t say that out loud but it would be in his internal monologue and he would kinda hint at it. 

there’s that line in eclipse and transit where remus says: “You say one thing and do another and half the time you don’t even try to say it, it’s like, I don’t know, like you’re daring me to leave. And everything—every single thing Sirius, it all comes back to January of sixth year, whether you’ll ever admit it or not. Or whether you even realize it” and i think it’s fitting. during fights remus probably would bring it up, and sirius would fail to understand why remus never got over it. like, sirius: “i apologized i was 15!!” and remus: “this is bigger than just that, what you did was emblematic of your flaws as a person and how even though you understand me more than almost anyone else you still don’t understand me completely and it frustrates me!!! and also i feel like you never fully understood that what you did was extraordinary fucked up.”

and i think that remus was so in love with sirius that he did forgive him, or otherwise allowed his love and affection to forget about it. but it was always bubbling under the surface...and that’s why their relationship was sort of volatile, that’s why he was so willing to believe that sirius was the spy (as in, “he betrayed me, why wouldn’t he have betrayed james and lily?”)

now i’m remembering when, in one of the snape’s memory /pensieve / flashback scenes in OotP, sirius says “i wish it was the full moon” and remus says, darkly, “you might.” now, we don’t know if that scene takes place before or after the Prank (before probably? idk), but i feel like it further compounds the extent to which sirius seems woefully unaware that remus is a werewolf and it’s not something he can separate from himself and that lycanthropy impacts every facet of his life. sirius came to understand it as just some fun thing to do every month. his sort of ignorance towards other people’s needs and experiences is also further evidenced by how he treated harry like he was james. sirius has a pretty good track record of taking other people’s pain and making into something for him to enjoy. and he doesn’t do so in a way that is entirely selfish either, i think he really thought he was helping harry and remus. maybe it all goes back to his family and childhood trauma or something (doesn’t everything? “it all started one afternoon in the 1960s..”)

[unlikelymilkshakedream]

Those Damn Freckles

A/n: okay so I may or may not have like the biggest crush on charlie weasley right now so I'm going to write this fic. This is defiantly going to be a series, three or four parts, maybe more. Hope you enjoy!

To say that charlie weasley and you were best friends was an understatement. You two were practically soul mates, platonic of course. However you were starting to wonder if there could ever be more. Ever since you had stayed at the burrow for like a week over summer, you haven't been able to stop thinking about those damn freckles.

You descended the stairs as the clock struck one am, the short shorts clinging to your legs nicely. You couldn't sleep for hours, tossing and turning in the worst way. You decided to finally get up and get some water, thankful that no one else was awake. You went to the sink and grabbed a glass, pouring water and looking at the vast fields in front of you covered in the moonlight.

The feeling of the water slipping down your throat brought you a strong sense of calmness. You felt as though the craziness of your life, such as your family, your future and the upcoming tests in your 5th year at Hogwarts, had all paused even for a split second and you felt good.

You were brought out of your daise by a noise behind you, you whipped your head around and saw in the dimly lit kitchen charlie weasley's silhouette standing on the last step. The sudden movement of your body caused the glass to fall and shatter on the ground. "Shit charlie, you scared the crap out of me." He huffed humorously.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone was awake." I pulled out my wand and repaired the glass.

"Yeah, I was enjoying the silence, this house is never silent." He walked over to you and took the glass out of your hand.

"Yeah, these hours of the day are some of my favorite." He smirked at the light blush on your cheeks as he thought of how pretty you looked in moonlight.

"I will admit it is peaceful here, thanks for inviting me." He chuckled.

"Of course, I wish you could stay longer." You smiled.

"Yeah, I bet you do." You chuckled. He stepped closer to you, your bodies inches away.

"Want me to show you how much I want you to stay?" Your cheeks were definitely a crimson color now.

"Ch-charlie, what're doing?" You whispered. You were staring at his freckles, thinking about how much you loved them. You looked into his eyes as he towered over you and swore he could see directly into your soul.

"I can't stop thinking about you y/n. You're my best friend and I can't live without you."

"Charlie, I- i don't know what to say." His smirk faltered.

"I'm sorry y/n, I don't know what I was thinking." He started towards the stairs before you could stop him.

"Charlie, wait I-" he ignored you and continued up the stairs to his room.

Now, as you were boarding the train to your fifth year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you felt a subtle stress settling on your shoulders. You sighed and looked through compartments, smiling when you saw your best friends Nymphadora Tonks and Ben Copper sitting in a compartment.

"Hey! I missed you guys so much!" They both smiled as they saw you put your trunk into the overhead compartment.

"Hey y/n! How was your summer?" Your smile subsided. "Great, how was yours?"

"Awesome, I went to new york of all places, saw the empire state building-" you smiled as tonks recounted her summer to you and Ben. You sat back as the train pulled away feeling more than content.

As the train pulled up to Hogwarts and students got out, you and tonks made your way to the platform, Ben left to go with Barnaby Lee and Andre Egwu, both of whom greeted you with hugs. Now it was just you Tonks and your friend Tulip Kasaru.

Tonks wanted to make sure her dungbomb was secure in her luggage but you and tulip wanted to go with the rest of the leaving students to dinner in the great hall. You checked her luggage and went back to the platform where it was almost completely deserted. You both let out groans of annoyance.

"We have to hurry, we'll be late and thats not a great way to start our fifth year." Tulip said as you nodded. You three hurriedly ran to the great hall, getting death glares from Filch and Mrs. Norris. As you were sitting down at the Gryffindor table, you looked over and saw Charlie looking at you. You looked at him and blushed, going to ask him if you could talk later, just then Dumbledore's voice broke through the great hall. You turned away from Charlie to listen to the speech.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year-" you drowned out the speech and thought of that night with Charlie, you turned to look at him, seeing him looking at Dumbledore and Dumbledore only. You looked back at Dumbledore as first years began getting sorted into their houses and tried to stop thinking about that damn red hair you loved so much.

After dinner, you and your best friend Rowan went to the common room and sat down. "Hey y/n, how was your summer?"

"It was pretty good, how was yours?" She smiled and leaned back on the couch.

"It was amazing. Spending everyday with my family was wonderful. What about you what did you do?" Just as she said that, a certain red head walked in the common room.

"Well, this summer I stayed with a friend for a while, and honestly, things have been a little weird since." You said as Charlie walked by with Andre, you knew he could hear you. He sat down across the common room and looked at you. You smiled and he quickly averted his gaze.

"Really, who and how so?" Rowan asked, munching on some snack nuts. You looked back to her, making your voice a tad bit louder so the red head could hear you in the somewhat quiet common room.

"Well, this friend and I have known each other for years, and we're really close, but I think they have started to catch feelings. I have too, but the problem is over the summer, they tried to pull something and of course, I was too stupid to react in time. Hence the awkwardness." You took the chance and glanced at Charlie, whose gaze was directly on you.

"Damn, have you tried talking to them since?" You responded keeping eye contact with Charlie.

"Yeah, actually, I have, but I wish they would actually talk to me, I mean, I feel like an idiot because I'm not good at feelings, you know?" She nodded and smiled at the same time Charlie looked back at Andre.

"You know, any person is lucky to have you, you are the most generous and caring person I know, I'm sure it'll work out, you just gotta give it time." You smiled at her as Charlie went up to his dorm.

"Yeah I'm sure your right Rowan, thank you." You smiled. "Hey, I'm really jet lagged, or I guess train lagged, is it alright if I go to bed early?" She smiled.

"Of course, sweet dreams." She said as she made her way over to Andre. As you walked towards the stairs, you decided to take a huge chance and went to the boys dorm instead of the girls, specifically, Charlie's dorm. You prayed that he was alone, thankfully, as you opened the door soundlessly, you saw him sitting on his bed, head dropped between his shoulders in an empty dorm. You slipped in and shut the door.

"Charlie," you said in an unsteady voice. He shot up and turned towards you and you realized he was shirtless. He stared into your eyes for a second before he spoke.

"Y/n, blimey, this is the boys dorm," he said as he put on a shirt. You averted your gaze to the floor.

"I know, I'm sorry I just really wanted to talk to you, ever since summer, I feel we've been incredibly awkward in each other's presence." When he didn't say anything, you continued.

"Look, I don't know if you heard me downstairs, but I think you did and I meant what I said, all of it. The part about me being too stupid to realize how to respond, the part about me liking you back, everything." He walked over to you and you held your breathe.

"You mean it, you sure?" You let out a shaky breathe.

"Yes, I mean it i swear, I'm idiot and you're my best friend. Ever since that night, I swear I miss you so much and want you just as much as I miss you." He smiled and took your hand.

"I'm so glad, I've had a crush on you for years" you let out a laugh.

"So does this mean we're dating?" You asked sheepishly.

"Wow you really meant the part about being stupid huh?" You laughed and tried to look offended. Before you could say anything back, he brought his lips upon yours in a long awaited kiss.

Hi everyone! I hoped you like it and like I said I will write another part, probably going to be a few months into the relationship, but I am really excited to write this because I have a huge crush on Charlie. Please let me know what you think, it means a lot to me!

[animeyanderelover]

Can you write number 48 to Pluto?

It’s my pleasure.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, clinginess,mentions of death

Prompt 48: “I hate it when you pay attention to something else besides me.”

“And why do I need to take care of him now? Not that I mind, I like Pluto. But still! Don’t you think I have other things to do besides taking care of a demon hound?” Ciel sighed loudly, not looking happy that he had to ask you for this favor. “Believe me, from all the people I could have asked you’re the last one I wanted to ask. But you’re the only person who I can trust with him. You know what he really is and besides...” You bent curiously closer. “Besides?” “Besides it looks like Pluto got very attached to you and you’re the only person he listens too.” You chuckled and glanced at his butler. “Hey. I thought you were one hell of a butler. How come that he doesn’t listen to you anymore?” Sebastian didn’t answer. “Well?”, Ciel asked you. You thought about it for a moment. “Alright then. I have nothing against coming over and taking care of him.” To your huge surprise you heard Sebastian and Ciel sigh in relief. “Thanks a lot. I was worried that he would burn the whole manor down if you don’t agree.” You raised your eyebrow. “Why would he do that?” “As I said, he got very attached to you.”

The next morning you quickly made your way to the Phantomhive mansion. Many people might wonder how you even know the young Earl Phantomhive. It was simple. Your parents and his parents had been friends since a very long time and you and Ciel had been friends since a very young age too. After the fire and after the loss of his parents he had become a bit more distant to you, but at least he had still talked to you. You knew about him and his butler as well. How? Well, you had always been fascinated with reading stories about demons, angels and all this other stuff. And one year ago you had caught him without his eyepatch, seeing the strange symbol he had in his eye. Ciel had panicked and tried to come up with an excuse, you on the other hand had just stared fascinated at it before asking him bluntly if this was a Faustian contract. Ciel had been stunned when you had asked him this and you had simply added one and one, quickly figuring out that his red-eyed butler must be a demon. You honestly weren’t surprised, you had always suspected Sebastian to be anything, but a human. Were you happy that Ciel had given his soul away? No. But you couldn’t do anything against it. Luckily Ciel had trusted you enough to keep it a secret, feeling impressed that you had figured it out.

You waited patiently at the entrance before Sebastian opened the door. “Miss (y/n). You’re finally here.” As soon as he mentioned your name, you suddenly heard loud barking. “Pluto! No! Wait!” Was that Finny’s voice? You stepped in, curious about what was going on. Finny was stemming his feet against the ground, leaning all of his weight back and pulling desperately on the leash he was holding. Pluto on the other hand was trying to move forwards, barking excitedly when he saw you and tried to run to you, but was harshly pulled back, whining loudly. At this point you were scared that he would choke. “Finny! You’re going to choke him if you continue to pull on the leash like this! Let him go!” “Are you sure?!”, Finny asked you. You nodded. The same moment Finny let go was the moment where Pluto jumped towards you, instantly making you fall down with his weight on your top. You started giggling when he started licking all over your face and neck. “Stop that! I’m ticklish!” Pluto barked excitedly. You started petting his head, going into full dog lover mode. “Who’s a good boy? That’s right, you!” You suddenly heard someone clearing his throat behind you. “Would you mind doing that somewhere else? Not right in front of the entrance?” You turned around to see Ciel standing on top of the stains. You started laughing embarrassed. “Sorry. Guess I’ll go into the garden.”

The next few weeks were spent with you visiting the manor every day to take care of Pluto. And slowly, but surely you noticed that Pluto had probably gotten a bit too fond of you. At first you had just brushed it off because this guy was after all a demon hound and dogs were known to be very clingy. But could his current behavior be considered as normal? You weren’t too sure anymore. It had begun with him simply refusing to leave your side, he was clinging on your waist all the time and whenever you had tried to leave him for even one second he had started whining and had refused to let go of you, even if you ordered him too. Whenever you had left the manor to go home he had thrown a drama. It had gotten that bad that Sebastian had to step in every time to prevent him from leaving and it happened more than one time that he had been forced to knock Pluto out. All of this was, even though highly annoying, still in a yellow zone. But it had gotten out of hand when Pluto had scared anyone away from you who even dared to come anywhere near you. For example when Mey-Rin had tried to talk to you Pluto’s grip around your hip had suddenly tightened and he had let a deep growl out of his chest, giving Mey-Rin a dangerous look which reminded you of a predator looking at his prey. He did that to everyone and at some point everyone had started to stop talking to you and if they wanted to tell you something they had started to yell it to you from the distance. Even Ciel kept a safety distance. And from day to day it became worse.

You knew that something was wrong the moment Pluto suddenly stopped acting excitedly. He was just staring at you with narrowed eyes before bending down and starting to sniff on your clothes. “...Pluto? Is something wrong?”, you asked confused. He just continued to sniff on your clothes before he suddenly started growling dangerously, his grip around you tightening. You needed some time until you finally understood what was wrong. He must have sensed the smell of your old classmate on you which you had met on your way here. You had bumped into him earlier this day and both of you had for a moment stopped whatever you had been doing to catch up on old times. When both of you had gone separate ways you had given him a short hug. You hadn’t thought of it as something bad, but Pluto seemed more than just enraged. He was furiously growling. “Wow! Pluto, calm down! He was just a friend of mine!” You had hoped to calm him down, but that didn’t work. Instead he became even more enraged when you mentioned the word friend. By now his nails were digging painfully in your skin and the look he was giving you made you feel scared. What was wrong with him? Was he really so territorial with you? Wasn’t it enough that you spent all your time with him? He had already scared everyone in the mansion away from you! You could endure a lot with him, but that was a bit too much! You had your free time as well! “Pluto! Quit it!” Pluto abruptly stopped growling and gave you a surprised look. You had never spoken that harshly to him since he normally always listened to you, but it seemed like you had to be a bit more stricter with him. “Listen Pluto! I really like you, believe me, I do! But you need to understand that I can’t spend all of my time with you! I have other people in my life and I won’t accept it that any longer that you scare every person who tries to make contact with me away!” Pluto looked completely crushed. He whimpered and tried to stretch his hand out to touch you, but you lifted warningly your index finger. “No Pluto!” For the rest of the day you treated him more coldly, being in a bad mood.

It was late at night when you were suddenly woken up from your sleep. You rubbed your eyes to get rid of the tiredness. What was that for a noise? You were sure you had just heard something right now. You listened closely into the silence of the night. For a few seconds it was quiet, making you questioning if you had just dreamed that. But then you heard it again. It sounded like...the whimpering of a dog! And it sounded like it was right in front of your house! You stepped out of your bed and left your room, heading downstairs quickly. You knew that whimpering just too well. But what was he doing here? He was supposed to be at the mansion this late at night. When you stepped down you suddenly noticed another noise coming directly from your entrance door. It sounded like someone was scratching with his fingernails against the wood of your door. You stood for a moment unsure in front of your door, not knowing whether to open the door or not. But then you decided to let him in, it would mean serious troubles if someone would see a naked man whimpering and scratching in front of your door. So you turned the doorknob around.

Pluto instantly stormed inside, jumping onto you and barking happily whilst starting to spread all his salvia over your face and neck. “Pluto? What are you doing he-“ You stopped when suddenly a nasty smell started to hit your nose which came directly from Pluto himself. The smell was overwhelming and made you nearly dizzy. What was that? You tried to push Pluto away from you so that you wouldn’t have to endure this sickening smell anymore, but as soon as your hands touched his bare chest you instinctively pulled back. His chest was covered in some sticky liquid. It was very dark and the only source of light was the moon who was shining through the open door inside your house. You squinted your eyes to try to get a better look at Pluto. Your eyes needed a moment until they had adjusted to the darkness. The second you realized what this liquid was you paled. Pluto was covered in blood! It was smeared all over his face and body and since he was laying on top of you your white nightgown was also smudged with the scarlet liquid. Why was he covered in blood?! Did he...? Pluto himself didn’t seem to mind that much, he just continued happily to lick all over your face. You gulped. “P-Pluto?” He lifted his head, signaling you that he was listening. “W-what did you do?” Pluto blinked for a moment before he suddenly hurried out of your door, grabbing something he had hidden next to the door before quickly returning and letting the object fall into your lap, looking proud of himself.

Your brain on the other hand stopped working when you saw what that thing was. It was an arm! Blood was still flowing out of the opening, staining your nightgown in even more blood. You took notice of the clothing that was still visible on the arm and that’s when you knew to whom this arm belonged. It was from your old classmate. Judging from all the blood in which Pluto was covered you didn’t think that he was still walking under the living. You should have screamed and thrown the arm away, but you couldn’t. Your whole body was paralyzed and your limps felt like they were made out of stone. No matter how much you yelled at your brain and body to move, they didn’t listen to you. Pluto nudged you with his nose and you slowly shifted your eyes to look at him. He had an expecting look on his face, wanting to be praised by you. You didn’t even realized when your hand moved to start stroking his hair and you told him:”Good boy.” Why did you do this?! You should scream at him, but your body refused to. Perhaps this habit had been too deeply engraved in your mind to shake it off and your brain probably thought that this was the best way to handle this situation. By telling him that he did good and encouraging him to do this again. Pluto was clearly joyful when he heard this and once again his warm tongue went all over your face. “W-why did you do this?” It felt hard to speak this sentence, your tongue feeling like it was made out of lead. For a moment Pluto tilted his head as if wondering if it wasn’t already obvious. He stared you directly into the eyes and it was like there was a silent message written inside of it, that was only meant for you. “I hate it when you pay attention to something else besides me.”

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

One Weary Human

The Company x Reader

All of the company is drunk. The twist? None of them act the way you’d expect, like at all. Shy Bilbo is all flirty, chill Bofur keeps wanting to start bar fights, Kili/Fili try to be philosophical, Dwalin is the “You’re my best friend. I just love you so much, man,” type of guy, and Thorin is actually FUN and FUNNY. The reader is just sitting there feeling like she’s legitimately in the fucking Twilight Zone ---middleearth2asgard

---

You knew you should've stopped them from drinking all that ale. 

Over and over again you thought to yourself that this night won't end well if you don't put a cap on their drinking, but each time you came close to interfering you kinda just decided that letting them have fun is better. 

I mean, they've earned it so why not let them enjoy their first night out of danger after all those awful things that happened? Dragons, trolls, orcs, near-death experiences, a war, thousands of horrible things and one night to unwind and be happy. You can't very well take that away from them. 

But you really should've. 

By the time they polished off the first half of the barrel of ale they are completely wasted, and it's hard to keep track of them amidst the sea of men, other dwarves, and elves who survived the battle. 

Well, maybe not wasted since they can still talk and walk around sort of well, but they're definitely inebriated. 

You had maybe a quarter mug of drink before you realized they'll need someone to watch over them, so after that you gave up and decided to make sure none of them do anything stupid (also, ale tastes horrible so you don't wanna finish it). 

Which, to some extent, they do. 

Act stupid, I mean. 

It's just the complete opposite of who you thought it would be. 

You honestly thought that your biggest issue would be Fili and Kili, and probably Dwalin, but as it turns out they aren't even close to being a problem. 

As it turns out, your biggest issue at the moment happens to be Bofur, Bilbo, and Ori. 

Bofur is, quite literally, trying to start a fight with everybody. Bilbo won't leave you alone, and flirting with you so shamelessly. And Ori... won't stop crying no matter what you do. 

For the life of you, you don't know what to do. 

Every time you tell Bofur to calm down he tells you to square up (more or less), when you try to console Ori he cries even harder, and Bilbo... he has pickup lines for days. 

"Bofur! For the last time, sit down and stop glaring at everyone!" You snap, grabbing the back of his shirt when he starts yelling at someone for 'looking at him funny' while also patting the back of Ori's head comfortingly. 

"E-Everyone is so mean to me..." Ori sniffles and sobs, reaching up to grab onto your hand, using it to wipe his tears away like a tissue. 

You cringe but let the young dwarf do it since he's sobbing so much, and when he releases you, you turn to Bofur.

"Stop tellin' me what to do!" He shoots back angrily, though he doesn't fight you when you force him to take a seat. "Damn woman..." 

"Bilbo, please keep an eye on these two while I find everyone else." You tell the small hobbit making heart eyes at you. 

"Surely, my dear, you would much rather stay with me?" 

You kinda just stare at him for a moment before slowly saying, "Do as I say." 

He doesn't reply to that and takes a seat, listening to you surprisingly enough. 

Once that's done you slide off your chair and try to find everyone else, noticing Thorin right away since he's... doing stand up comedy?

He's standing on a table and the group that's gathered around him is laughing their asses off, telling him to give them more jokes which shocks you to your very core. This mans is the complete opposite of funny and chill. 

"And then I told him that no pretty pixie of an elf will talk to me like that!" 

The crowd around him roars with laughter and applause, and while you didn't hear the first part of his 'joke' it still doesn't humor you. 

You fight your way through the countless bodies and finally get to the table, cupping your hands over your mouth so he can hear you when you yell, "Thorin! It's time to go!"

"Y/N! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Thorin calls happily, successfully putting the attention onto you. "I've lost my nephews! Have you seen them by any chance?" 

Why is he asking you??? 

You shake your head slowly and reply, "No, why would I know where they are?" 

"Well, you certainly seem to know the whereabouts of their tongues quite well!" He calls with loud boisterous laughter while everyone around proceeds to find it funny too. 

You kinda just stand there for a moment, looking up at him blankly before your face begins to grow hot. 

Okay, you know what? No, you're not dealing with this right now. 

Very slowly you begin to back away, trying to both avoid eye contact with everyone and also trying to keep yourself from blowing up on the new king. 

Where did he get such an idea from anyway? Freaking dummy. 

"There she goes, off to another royal snogging!" 

More laughter, but you're disappeared and gone before anyone can poke anymore fun at you for something that most certainly did not happen. 

The next person you find, coincidentally, is the princes, and you're pleased to see them sitting mellowly at a table and having a conversation. 

"There you boys are! Thank god you're not drunk, if you could please help me to gather-" and then you hear their conversation and horribly slurred speech. 

"No, I'm tellin' ya, Fee, there's no way lovin' is easier than being loved. It jus' doesn' make sense." Kili tells his brother while shaking his head.

"Of course it does! When ya love then ya don' have t' worry about your own feelin' anymore, 'cause then you already know." 

Are these two really discussing the complexity of loving versus being loved? 

"An' how would you know that?" Kili asks, shaking his head back in fourth a bit too much to show his disagreement. 

"Tha's none of your busn'ess." He slurs back, pointing a finger at him accusingly. 

"How can we even be sure that it's real in tha first place?" 

"Are you sayin' you don't love me?" Fili challenges. 

Kili freaks out and shakes his head, "N-No no! Of course I do!"

"You better, 'm your brother." Fili grumbles, turning his head until he notices you, "Oh! Y/N!"

You're quiet for a moment, kinda just looking at them oddly since their conversation both makes no sense, but also makes all the sense.

They take your silence as a go ahead to continue their 'discussion' and Fili then brings up, "Well wha' about Y/N?" 

"What about her?" Kili asks back, laying his head down on the table after a moment. 

"Nnoo, 'm askin' her." 

"You didn't ask me anything." You chime in, reaching over to take their mugs from them. "You two are making no sense." 

"Wellll, I think she would rather be loved since it doesn' make sense tha' loving is easier." Kili grumbles, trying to reinforce his point through you. 

"I don't think it really matters at the moment, boys. Why don't you both come with me and we can all take a nap and sleep off our drunkenness..." 

"No! It does matter!" They both yell at the same time, successfully earning a sigh from you. 

"But-" 

"Y/N!" Someone calls excitedly suddenly. 

You turn your head slowly, but before you can put a face to the voice, someone it crushing you in a big hug. 

"Have I told you that you're an excellent woman?" The person crushing the life out of you asks, and it's at that moment that you realize it's... Dwalin. 

"U-Uh, no, not really-"

"Well, that's a shame! You're wonderful." He confirms with a quiet hiccup, holding you slightly tighter when you start to squirm. 

"Alright, thank you Dwalin but if you could please-"

"See! My point is proven." Fili slurs triumphantly, pointing at you and Dwalin. "He's havin' a ball, nd' she's freakin' out!" 

"That h-haaas nothing to do with love, Fee!" Kili grumps back, smacking Fili on the shoulder harshly. 

"Hey! Who do you think yer lookin' at!?" An all to familiar, standoffish voice bellows to your left. 

You turn your head and see Bofur trying to get some huge dude to throw some punches, and then you hear more jokes from Thorin across the room, Ori's wails, and Bilbo flirting with some other person. 

Mahal save your soul. 

"You three." You call suddenly, gaining the attention of Dwalin, Fili, and Kili (the three you thought you would be having the most problems with). "Whoever gathers the most of our friends outside gets a big prize."

Kili gasps and asks, "A big prize?" 

"The biggest prize." You confirm, feeling relieved when Dwalin lets you go. 

"What is the prize?" Dwalin asks, looking at you with a very uncharacteristic grin on his face. 

"I can't tell you, it's a secret until one of you wins." 

"Oh, I'm gonna get more than you two!" Fili calls, struggling to get up from his seat before Kili, the two pushing and shoving each other while they fight to stand. 

"No fighting or you are disqualified." You warn, wagging a finger at them.

Thank god they listen. 

---

You manage to gather the original three (Ori, Bilbo, and Bofur) and Nori, and get them outside of the party hall, trying your best to calm Bofur and Ori while Bilbo keeps on calling you beautiful and complimenting you. 

Eventually, Dwalin walks out with two dwarves. Balin (who is sober, thank god) and Dori. 

The next person to show up is Kili, and he has Bombur and Gloin. 

Finally, Fili emerges from the hall and managed to swipe Oin and Bifir.

You smile at them brightly before you realize you're one short, "Where's Thorin?" 

Fili sighs and answers, "I tried ta get 'im but he made fun of me until I left." 

That sounds about right. 

"I tried, too! But he kep' callin' me names." Dwalin grumbles while Kili nods. 

"Yea-h, he kep' pokin' fun at my beard." Kili agrees, looking at the two he gathered, "Who won?" 

"None of you, it's a tie." You reply, shaking your head.

A part of you is glad, actually that they all have the same amount, because you have no idea what the supposed 'big prize' is supposed to be. "I'll have to find a way to get Thorin, I guess..." You state wearily, already growing tired of their shenanigans. 

" 'm sorry." The three you assigned to help you say sadly, looking at you with big upset eyes. 

"N-No, it's fine! Just, keep everyone out here, okay? I'll be right back." 

---

Suffice to say you were not 'right back' at all. 

The moment you walked back up to Thorin he started making more jokes about you 'being with' different people in the original company, and very quickly does your patience wear thin. 

At some point you just lose it and end up grabbing his ear and dragging him out of the party hall while people boo at you for being a fun killer. 

Once you've successfully made him leave, you push him out the doors and do a quick headcount to make sure everyone is still there. 

You take them all to a private wing where they all have their rooms in as well as a private kitchen Bombur introduced you to. 

"Okay, good. Now that we're all gathered up in one place... Come with me to the kitchen. Lets eat a bit and have some water, okay?" 

"Is there more ale?" Dwalin asks with the same smile. 

"No!" You snap a bit angrier than you mean to, "No more alcohol for any of you."

That successfully shuts them up. 

Once everyone is seated at the table in the newly stocked kitchen, you go through the cupboards and collect some berries and bread, bringing them over to the table so they can get something in their stomachs to absorb all that alcohol. 

You give them all some chunks of bread and leave a handful or two for everyone (more for the bigger of them), then you walk off to get some water. Balin helps you out with it all (being as he's barely even tipsy), and eventually everyone has water and some food. 

It doesn't take long for everything to disappear into their stomachs, and once they've done as you instructed you start to help some of them to their individual rooms. 

Nori and Dori drag Ori to the room they share, Balin takes care of Dwalin, Bombur excuses himself and thanks you heartily, but you have to take care of everyone else unfortunately. 

First, you deal with Bifir, Oin, and Gloin, which isn't too hard luckily. 

Bifir says something you can't understand and gives you a hug before going off to bed, and Oin thanks you tiredly before closing his door. Gloin smiles at you, being less drunk then those left behind, and thanks you as well before heading off to sleep. 

Now you're left with Bilbo, Thorin, Fili and Kili, and, finally, Bofur.

When you reenter the kitchen, Thorin is laughing about something he said no doubt, and Bofur is glaring at him so angrily you're afraid he might actually hit him. 

"B-Bofur!" You call, running over to stand between them before wrapping your arm around his waist when he starts to wobble and walk towards Thorin. 

Right away he stops and leans into you, still glaring at Thorin while he wraps an arm around you in return, "Wha' is it?" 

"Come along, I'm going to take you to your room for bed. You too, Bilbo, come here." 

Bilbo has no problem walking over to you (though he does sway a bit) and stands next to you while you begin to take Bofur out of the room. "That's a good boy, come on." You usher them both out and, eventually, manage to get Bofur to his room so he can sleep it off. 

You shuffle him to his bed, and once he's seated you tell him to take off his shoes. While he does that, you swipe his hat and lay it on the bedside table, pulling his blanket back so he can lay down. 

Once he climbs in, you pull the covers up over him and pat his head, "There you are. Go ahead and sleep for me, dear, cause you're going to feel dreadful in the morning." 

He closes his eyes while grumbling something about being told what to do, of course he listens nonetheless and doesn't move or say anything else. 

You lean down and kiss his forehead lightly, then turn and leave the room. 

The door thumps softly when you shut it, and then you grab Bilbo's arm and walk with him to his room.

"You're simply stunning in this light, Y/N." Bilbo tells you, wrapping an arm around you despite being able to walk fine. "Completely breathtaking." 

"Thank you, Bilbo. Though, you're going to be mortified tomorrow. I can imagine you'll be begging for forgiveness within an hour of waking up." You comment, opening up his door so you can take him to his bed. 

"W-"

"Not a word." You cut him off quickly, knowing that he's going to say something very not appropriate, for both your sake and his. 

He climbs into bed without further coaxing, though you do have to take off his coat for him and fluff up his pillow a bit, but once he's nestled under the covers, he doesn't go to sleep. 

Instead he stares at you with baggy eyes, and smiles lightly, "You look radiant." 

"As you've said a few times, Bilbo. You spoil me." You lean down and press a light kiss to his forehead next, and when you stand up straight again he reaches up and taps your nose.

You giggle softly and grab his hand, placing it back at his side before walking over to the door. 

"Goodnight, Bilbo." 

"G'night, Y/N." 

When you arrive back at the kitchen, Thorin is gone and only Fili and Kili remain, talking about another odd topic once more. 

"Where did Thorin go?" You ask, looking around then back down the hall. 

"His head hurt, and he went to bed." Kili replies chipperly, smiling brightly. 

Well, that does make your job a fair bit easier. 

"Alright. Well, boys it's time for bed so come along." You tell them in a gentle voice, gesturing for them to come to you with a wave of your hand. 

Somehow they manage to get to their feet, but after they take a few steps it becomes painfully obvious that there's no way they'll be able to make it, like Bofur. 

Right away you go over to Kili and have him wrap an arm around your waist, and, somehow, you manage to shuffle forward with him to his brother who is looking very unstable at the moment. 

You get Fili to wrap an arm around you as well, and once you've got them both you proceed to, very slowly, shuffle your way to their room. 

At some point Kili started to press his face into your neck and Fili began to lean into you more heavily. If it weren't for the fact that you had one of them on either side of you, you probably would've toppled over. 

Eventually, you do manage to get them to their room, and once you do you bring them to their beds (there are two). 

You have them both sit down and go to light a candle, and once that's done you turn back to see if their laid down yet. Only, their both looking down at their feet as if they expect their shoes to taken themselves off. 

With a heavy sigh, you walk over to Fili and crouch down, taking off his shoes with little difficulty. "There you go, now take off your jacket and lay down." 

Fili nods his head and begins to shrug off his coat, so you turn and go to Kili, pulling off his shoes next. 

Once he's barefoot, you stand and smooth his hair back lightly, "You take off your coat too, okay?" 

"A'right." He mumbles, doing just as you said. 

You step away and take a few steps; and, once their both laying down, you go to Fili and pull his covers up to his chin. 

"Do you sleep with your braids in?" You ask quietly once he's tucked in. 

"N't my mustache ones..." He replies with his eyes closed. 

You nod, though he can't see it, and reach down and pull the clips off, placing them on the beside table so he can grab them tomorrow morning. 

Once he's settled, you lean down and press a kiss to his head, then turn and go to Kili. You're basically on a seesaw with these two, tending to one for a moment before going to the other. 

Kili is sitting up with his legs under the blanket, but when you walk over he lays down completely and waits for you to give him the same treatment as his brother. 

You grab the top of his comforter and pull it up until it covers most of his chest, and once that's done you reach behind his head and pull the clip from the back of his head, off. "Is there anything else?" You ask softly while placing his beaded clip down as well. 

"No..." 

You nod, then lean down and kiss his forehead like you've done to literally everyone else.

"Alright. Goodnight then, boys." 

[bubonickitten]

Fic summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Chapter summary: An examination of endings and how to realize them.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Full chapter text & content warnings below the cut.

Content warnings for Chapter 24: brief claustrophobia; some RSD/fear of abandonment stuff; extensive discussion of death (this chapter’s all about Terminus, babey); allusions to past suicidal ideation on Jon’s part; mentions of eye gouging/blinding (not graphic); some internalized victim blaming; anxiety symptoms; spider mentions; swears. Let me know if I missed anything!

Chronic fear has been Jon’s baseline for so long, it’s difficult for him to conceptualize what he would be were it to abandon him. In some ways, he’s become acclimated to it. On the other hand, fear is a volatile, prolific thing, its many shades relentlessly coalescing and mutating to form new strains. It all but guarantees that the Eye will never truly be sated: there will always be some heretofore unknown species of terror to discover, experience, and add to its collection.

Sprinkled in amongst the more noteworthy moments of abject terror and the constant background pressure of existential dread, there are smaller fears: everyday anxieties; pervasive insecurities; acute spikes of panic and adrenaline. Each discrete instance may pale in comparison to life-threatening peril, but muddled together and given time to ferment, they compound. They feed into one another. Sometimes, they come to attract the attention of larger, far more forbidding monsters.

In this way, Jon is no different from the average person – and one of the oldest, most deep-rooted of those comparatively banal fears is his fear of rejection, of disappointing, of being seen and found lacking. It guided his path long before his first supernatural encounter, and in many ways, it still does. His self-awareness of that fact does little to dampen its influence.

So it’s vexing, but not surprising, that the foremost concern vying for his attention right now is whether this might be that final straw that chases Georgie away for good. She sits with her hands clasped in front of her mouth, eyes closed and brow furrowed as she gathers her thoughts. The longer she remains silent, the more time Jon has to run through all the worst-case scenarios.

It’s already difficult for him to capture a full breath under the crushing weight of anticipation. It doesn’t help that his intermittent claustrophobia has decided that right now is the perfect time to manifest. A tunnel collapse would probably damage the Archives above it, though, and there’s no way Jon would be so lucky. He isn’t sure whether to consider that a consolation or not.

Finally, Georgie takes a breath, opens her eyes, and leans forward.

“Okay.” She tilts her folded hands towards him in an indicative gesture. “Explain, please.”

“Right,” Jon says, rubbing one arm nervously. “S-so, Oliver –”

“I knew his name wasn’t Antonio,” Georgie mutters.

“No. That was an alias he used when he first came to the Institute to give a statement, back in 2015.”

“The prediction about Gertrude’s death?” Martin asks.

“The same.”

“And what was a harbinger of death doing looming over you while you were in a coma?” Georgie presses.

“I don’t know that I’d call him a harbinger –” Jon’s mouth snaps shut immediately when Georgie shoots him an impatient glare. “He wasn’t – he wasn’t trying to – to reap my soul or anything like that, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Then why was he there?”

“He was called there,” Jon says. “By the Web, according to him.”

“Oh, and you don’t think that makes him dangerous?” Martin says, throwing one arm out in a surge of exasperation.

“He isn’t allied with the Web,” Jon replies, fiddling with the hem of his jumper. “It just… got into his head, and it was easier for him to go along with it, rather than fight it indefinitely. Oliver tends to have a fatalistic outlook. If he sees something as inevitable, he’s not inclined to try to stop it.”

“So, what – he’s serving an evil power not because he’s sadistic but because he’s just apathetic?” Georgie couldn’t sound any more unimpressed if she tried. “How is that any better?”

“It’s, ah… it’s really not that simplistic,” Jon says, adopting a delicate tone. “And I don’t think I’d call it apathy so much as…”

“Acceptance,” Georgie says stiffly. “Everything has an ending.”

“Yes. Oliver is an Avatar of the End, and the End is characterized by its certainty–” Jon pauses when he catches a glimpse of Georgie’s hands, fastened to her knees and trembling with tension. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

“No, I –” Georgie sighs, relaxes her grip, and flexes her fingers. “Just – tell me why you invited him here.”

“It’s like I said upstairs – there were things I couldn’t tell him about outside of here.”

“Why do you feel the need to tell him anything?” Martin asks.

“I just thought… he might be able to help us.”

“Why would he,” Georgie asks, “if he’s so fatalistic?”

“Because, he…” Jon hesitates, biting his lip. “I suppose I thought that maybe – maybe he’s like me.”

“He’s nothing like you,” Martin says vehemently.

A flicker of a smile crosses Jon’s face. “You don’t even know him.”

“What, and you do?”

“Not well,” Jon admits. “But I do think I understand him.”

Martin crosses his arms, transparently miffed. In an attempt to suppress his amusement, Jon presses his lips tightly together. It doesn’t work, evidently.

“What?” There’s a flat, defensive edge to the demand, highlighted by a suspicious scowl. “What’s with the smirk?”

Jon already knows the answer to the question he wants to ask, but he can’t help himself: “Are you jealous?”

“No!” Martin yelps. “Why would I be jealous?”

Jon shakes his head, chuckling softly. “Well, you don’t need to be.”

“I’m not!”

“If you say so,” Jon says with a shrug and a sly grin.

“I am not jealous,” Martin insists – and now Georgie is snickering, one hand clamped over her mouth to (unsuccessfully) stifle the sound. Martin glowers at her, betrayed.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says. “Just – didn’t realize you were quite so jealous.”

“I’m not,” Martin says for a third time. “But – but even if I was, I would be completely justified.”

“Because he woke me up,” Jon says, toning down the smugness now.

There is an uneasy boundary between affectionate teasing and perceived mockery, and here in the past, he hasn’t quite mapped the shape of that line. Between seeing one another in the Lonely and anchoring each other through the apocalypse, he and Martin had been forced to confront long-held insecurities about themselves, both as individuals and as a unit. That shared history no longer applies. While Jon has no desire to repeat that chain of events – there are happier, healthier pathways to a relationship than bonding via trauma, or so he’s heard – it does mean that this version of Martin hasn’t yet had the same epiphanies.

Much like Jon, Martin struggles to take a declaration of love at its word. People lie; they mislead; they say what they think others want to hear – whether out of self-interest, sympathy, or simple social ineptitude, the results are the same. Sometimes they start out sincere, but little by little, their tolerance dwindles and they recognize their mistake: what they thought was genuine affection was at best a passing fancy for someone who turned out to be far more trouble than they were ever worth. Or worse: a caring façade born of pity or guilt or obligation, only to turn rotten and toxic when the burden grows too tiresome.

Add all of those deep-seated convictions to the lasting influence of the Lonely, and Martin needed proof before he could entertain the possibility of being loved. Following him into and then leading him out of the Lonely was a fairly convincing statement. Absent another life-or-death gesture to act as a catalyst, Jon suspects that this time around, building that confidence will come down to time, practice, and repetition.

“Okay, yeah, about that – what does that – what does that mean, he woke you up?” Before Jon can get a word out, Martin barrels on: “I mean, what makes him so special? I spent weeks – weeks – begging you to come back, and nothing. He visits you once and suddenly you’re fine?”

“I really did try to come back on my own,” Jon says – not accusing, not pleading, not even self-flagellating. Just plain, sincere assuredness. “I heard you calling me. Not at first, but – the last time you visited. It was the first time I’d heard your voice in… in so long, I – I never thought I’d hear it again, and then you were there, and I was – I was so relieved, so… so elated.”

Martin sulks quietly, glaring at the floor, but there’s a noticeable flush staining his cheeks now.

“And then – and then I heard you on the phone with Peter, and…” Jon swallows hard, the despair he felt in that moment still stark in his mind. “I tried to call out to you, but you couldn’t hear me. The Lonely was drawing you in, just like before, and there was nothing I could do. I wanted to wake up more than anything, but I just… couldn’t figure out how. I still don’t know why – I don’t know the exact mechanics of it all – but for whatever reason, I wasn’t able to wake up until Oliver’s visit. Same as the first time.”

At that, Martin seems to deflate somewhat, finally looking up to meet Jon’s eyes.

“If I could have come back sooner,” Jon continues, smiling sadly, “I would have. In a heartbeat.”

Martin pouts for a moment longer before surrendering, his rigid posture slackening as the rancor drains out of him.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

“So you think you owe him,” Georgie guesses. “For waking you up.”

“Partially,” Jon admits. “But that’s not why I invited him, really. He just seems… I don’t know. Lonely, I guess?” Georgie rolls her eyes. “He never – he never asked to be a death prophet. No more than I wanted to be a – a trauma leech. And arguably – arguably he was even less to blame for what happened to him than I am for what I’ve become –”

“Jon,” Martin says warningly.

“No, just – just listen.” Jon takes a measured breath as he puts his thoughts in order. “Oliver started having prophetic dreams several years ago. Just – out of the blue. As far as I know, he did nothing to tempt fate. Eventually, those dreams carried over into the waking world. Everywhere he went, every single day, he could see the evidence of imminent death. There was no escaping it.

“In the beginning, he tried to help people. But it never worked. When he was unable to save his own father, he stopped trying to change fate, for the most part. I think the last time he tried was when he dreamed of Gertrude. He saw how far-reaching her death would ultimately be, and he tried to warn her, even though he didn’t have much hope that it would make a difference. And he was right, in the end. He couldn’t save her, and he couldn’t prevent what came after.”

“So he just… gave up,” Martin says flatly.

“When you fail over and over again to do good in the world, when you witness horror after horror with no recourse to stop it, when you try again and again and again to escape and never even come close… at some point, you burn out,” Jon murmurs. “Lose all hope. It becomes your new normal. Exist like that long enough and you start to become numb to it all.”

“You lived through an apocalypse and you didn’t give up,” Martin counters.

“I did, though,” Jon says quietly.

Martin frowns. “What?”

“After I lost you.” Jon averts his eyes and folds his arms tight against his middle, holding his elbows. “I was lost. I couldn’t save anyone, I couldn’t change anything, I couldn’t even look away. I wasn’t allowed to sleep. I wasn’t allowed to die. So I just… survived, even though I wanted anything but.” When he glances up, he sees that Martin’s expression has softened. “You were my reason. Then you were gone, and I was alone.”

Jon hadn’t known that the world could end a second time, but there it was. With Martin gone, what little that remained of Jon’s own microcosm shattered. Yet the Ceaseless Watcher’s world dared to continue turning, to go on churning out horror after horror as if nothing at all had changed. And Jon was just another cog in that machine, going through the motions and fulfilling the purpose for which he was cultivated.

It wasn’t truly ceaseless, of course. Everything has an ending. But it felt like an eternity – and for Jon, indefinite waiting has always been a special kind of torture.

“So what changed?” Georgie asks, her tone gentler than before.

“For a while, nothing,” Jon says. “I sort of… drifted. Wandered aimlessly through the domains for… I don’t really know. When nothing ever changes, keeping track of time becomes pointless. The Panopticon kept trying to draw me in, of course, but I – I suppose there was still enough spite left in me to make a show of ignoring it.

“At some point, I got lost in a Lonely domain. Which was fine, really. Or – it would have been fine, had I been allowed to succumb to it. I wanted to just – fade into it, let it in, but” – Jon breathes a bitter laugh – “it wouldn’t take me. Wouldn’t let me go numb, wouldn’t let me forget – didn’t have the decency to let me disappear, no matter how long I stayed.”

No one got what they deserved in that future, but this was a rare exception to that rule: to be allowed to simply forget his role in creating that nightmare world, to sink into blissful ignorance, would have been a miscarriage of justice. Not that the Eye cared about what was just or fair, of course. No, it simply would not – perhaps could not – deign to relinquish its hold on its Archive.

“But the longer I stayed,” he continues, looking at Martin now, “the more I thought about you. In retrospect, maybe that’s why I didn’t want to leave. And maybe that’s part of why it wouldn’t have me – I couldn’t let you go. But being there, it kept reminding me of the first Lonely domain we came across after the change. We were separated, and I was – I was so afraid you wouldn’t come back to me. But you did.” Jon smiles to himself, remembering the relief and gratitude and awe he felt in that moment. “You rejected the Lonely all on your own. Found your own way out – found me, and… every time I thought about that, I imagined your voice in my head. Telling me off for wallowing. For giving up.”

“Sounds like I would have been justified,” Martin says delicately.

“You would have,” Jon confesses with a contrite half-smile. “I was in peak brooding condition. Eventually I wore myself out wallowing there, though, so I left to go wallow somewhere else. I needed a change of scenery, and – well, I got one. Stumbled into a Spiral domain. Ran into Helen, and… funny enough, that was the last straw.”

Jon can still recall the encounter down to the smallest detail.

‘Still drifting aimless, are we?’ Helen bared an unsettling number of teeth as her grin stretched – literally – from ear to ear. ‘Exactly how long do you plan on moping about, Archivist?’

Jon did not answer; did not even meet her eyes, instead staring vacantly over her shoulder. The incessant reel of horror scenes playing in the back of his mind made it difficult to focus on any one thing at a time, and there was nothing he cared to see so much that it was worth the effort it would take to grant it his undivided attention.

‘You know,’ Helen said, tapping an elongated, crooked finger against her lips, ‘I wonder what he would say, if he could see you now.’

It didn’t matter. Martin was gone. Those parts of the world that hadn’t already been thoroughly razed were slowly but surely withering. There was nothing left to salvage.

‘Disappointed, I imagine,’ Helen continued, distant and muffled by the din of a splintering world. (Somewhere deep below their feet, a man was screaming himself hoarse in a labyrinth made of mirrors and fog.) ‘But not surprised. It’s not the first time you’ve let him down, is it?’

Jon gave a listless shrug. Her words stung, certainly, but they were a far cry from some of her more artful jabs. A pointed insinuation to send him spiraling into his own self-destructive conclusions would always be more corrosive than outright disparagement.

(The man in the maze gazed into mirror after mirror, hoping to find himself within. In every one, his reflection had no face.)

That said, Helen wasn’t wrong. Even as a child, Jon had always been a burden. He never did manage to prove himself worthy of all the many unwilling sacrifices made on his behalf. Never measured up; never put nearly enough good into the world to balance out the cost of having him in it.

(The man in the maze had misplaced his name. Did he drop it somewhere? He checked his pockets only to find holes. Yet another eyeless reflection stared back at him from beneath his feet.)

‘You were always headed here, weren’t you?’

Yes.

(The man in the maze tried to retrace his steps, but everything looked the same: an endless, recursive corridor of mirror images. He asked one of the doppelgängers for directions, only to realize that the man in the mirror had no mouth with which to answer.)

‘To think – all that time he spent coaxing you along, and you crumble the moment you don’t have a prop to coddle you.’ Helen cackles, high and cruel. ‘What a waste.’

She wasn’t telling him anything that he didn’t already know.

(The man in the maze was scouring the mirrored ground, searching for… something he’d lost; he couldn’t quite remember, but he knew that it was important. He checked his pockets, only to discover that he had no pockets.)

‘Although, I guess the blame doesn’t fall squarely on your shoulders. He was naïve. It isn’t your fault he was foolish enough to hope for–’

The words jolted Jon back to the present like an electric shock. Whatever else Helen had to say, he’d never know. He tuned her out, and he started walking.

“She was having a go at me – nothing new there – but then she brought you into it, and…” Jon shrugs. “I don’t think it was her intention, but it nudged me back on track. You and I had a plan, before, and… honestly, I didn’t have much hope that it would work, but you had. That made it worth trying.”

It wasn’t like Jon could break the world more by parleying with the Eye. At worst, it made no difference, but at least Jon did something to honor Martin’s memory; at best, it put Jon out of his misery, one way or another.

“I’m glad I did, because… well, it changed things, obviously. You were right.”

“Sorry,” Martin says with unmistakable self-satisfaction, “could you say that again?”

“You were right, Martin.” Jon rolls his eyes, but the effect is undercut by an indulgent smile he can’t quite repress. “You often are. All of this is to say – I’m only here because you gave me a reason to be. If not for that, then… well, I meant what I’ve said before, about needing a lifeline in order to stand any chance against the Fears. I was – I am lucky enough to have one.”

More than one, he thinks with a sense of wonder. The support he has now is such a far cry from the ostracism he experienced the first time he was here. It still gives him pause every time he dwells on the contrast. Sometimes, it almost seems too good to be true.

“Oliver didn’t,” Jon continues. “It’s hard to begrudge him for resigning himself to fate, especially considering how the power that claimed him is defined by fatalism. He never asked to be chosen, he was given no hope of escape, and he had no one to reach out to, let alone anyone to reach back. It’s unsurprising that he would come to accept the inescapable when the only anchor he had was the certainty of oblivion.”

“‘The moment that you die will feel exactly the same as this one,’” Georgie says quietly.

Jon nods. “And without a dependable reason to see the moments in between as significant, it’s… well, it’s hard to see the point in anything. I’ve been there.”

As has Georgie, Jon knows. She exhales heavily, massaging her temples, visibly conflicted.

“I still don’t think you should trust him,” Martin says.

“I’m not suggesting we trust him wholesale,” Jon says, “but I’m certain that he isn’t an enemy. He might not resist the End, but he doesn’t work to end the world in its name, either. He’s… thoroughly neutral.”

“Then what makes you think he’ll lift a finger to help?” Martin asks.

“I doubt he’ll go out of his way to help,” Jon admits. “He might be willing to trade information, though. I just thought… Avatar of the End – he would have more insight into the limits of Jonah’s supposed ‘immortality’ than I do.”

“You think he can tell you something about the dead man’s switch,” Georgie guesses, rubbing at her forehead.

“That’s my hope, yes. He can see the route that a person will take to their end. Or, he can when their death is imminent, at least – I’m not sure how far into the future his foresight stretches these days.”

In the hospital, Oliver implied that he could see something in Jon’s vicinity. Whether that suggests Jon’s own end is near enough for Oliver to foresee it, Jon does not Know. Given his proven resilience, he suspects it’s just as likely to be a quirk of his strange existence. There’s no shortage of idiosyncrasies that may mark Jon as an outlier: he’s the Archivist; he’s traveled through a rift in time; he’s the primed and practiced focal point of the Watcher’s Crown, and the fate of the world hinges on his ability to keep that potential in check.

And if his situation is an exception to the rule, perhaps Jonah’s is as well.

“Maybe he’ll be able to see whether our routes flow into Jonah’s, so to speak,” Jon says. “When Oliver dreamed of Gertrude’s impending death, he saw how much of the world’s fate was intertwined with hers –”

“– the veins, whose domination of the dreamscape had only ever been partial before, had thickened and now seemed to cover almost the whole space of every street – the destination – into which all the veins flowed – The Magnus Institute – choked with that shadowed flesh – following that red light that would now pulse so bright that I knew were I to see it awake it would have blinded me – and every one of those veins – where they ended – a person sitting at that desk and it was them that all of this scarlet light was flowing into.”

“Gertrude,” Martin says.

Jon nods, then holds up one finger: Wait. The Archive has more to say; Jon can practically feel the words bubbling up his throat and crowding behind his teeth. As discomfiting as it is to have it hijack his voice, sometimes it’s easier to ride out that compulsion than to tamp it down.

“I have no responsibility to try and prevent whatever fate is coming for you – such a thing is likely impossible – but after what I saw I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try – there is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.”

Statement ends, Jon thinks, working his jaw to soothe the unnatural tension that has taken root there. Happy now? Anything else to add?

As expected, it doesn’t answer. He’s well aware that addressing the Archive essentially amounts to talking to himself, but carrying on an internal dialogue with the more frustrating aspects of himself was a habit long before he took on the mantle of Archivist.

After a few seconds, he feels the Archive’s imposing presence start to recede, releasing him from the compulsion. It’s still there, of course – it’s always there, looming over him like a vulture, as impossible to ignore as a knife to the throat – but for now it seems content to fall back and observe once more.

Georgie sighs. “That’s why you’re sympathetic to him.”

“He tried.” Jon shrugs. “He didn’t have to, but he did.”

“That still doesn’t mean he’s going to help this time,” Martin says.

“No, but he has no incentive to hurt us, either. There’s no harm in asking him questions. He’s not going to run to Jonah to inform on us. The worst that happens is he says ‘no’ and goes back to minding his own business. But if he agrees to talk… well, it might be our best chance to determine how much of what Jonah says is true.”

Georgie chews on her thumbnail for a few seconds before looking back up at Jon, a pensive frown on her face. “Why’d he go out of his way to come here at all, if he has no motivation one way or the other?”

“Honestly? Curiosity, I think. But… I suppose I’m also hoping that there’s a part of him that might sympathize.”

“Do you really think there is?” Martin asks.

“I don’t know. In my future, probably not. He wasn’t enjoying himself like some of the other Avatars – I mean, he was feeding on the fear produced by his domain, but even then, he didn’t strike me as cruel. It was just… acceptance in the face of a conclusion at ultimately stayed the same regardless of the path leading up to it, and…”

And maybe it speaks to Jon’s mental state at the time, but there were a few points in Oliver’s statement that struck him as almost merciful. After all, in the face of seemingly endless torment, death was a covetable escape.

“I have no power to stop it,” the Archive recites, “and even if I did, I would not do so. For to rob a soul of death is as torturous as its inevitable coming – I fear the annihilation you would gift me as little as I desire it – perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned – I am now, as the thing I feed, a fixed point, that has neither the longing nor ability to change its state of existence – even you, with all your power, cannot keep the world alive forever. All things end, and every step you take, whatever direction you may choose, only brings you closer to it.”

“That Oliver again?” Martin mutters tetchily. “Doesn’t sound to me like he’ll be particularly inclined to help.”

“Well–” The word comes out as a rasp, and Jon has to pause to clear his throat before continuing. “That was – that was the Oliver of the future. After the change, he was too much of the End not to live its truth, just as I was too much of the Eye not to walk its path and archive its world. We were both conduits, inseparable from the powers that laid claim to us. Here and now, though, I’m hoping he might still be…”

“What, benevolent?” Martin says incredulously.

Jon is quiet for a long moment, trying to find the right words to explain.

“At my most hopeless,” he says slowly, “I still cared, even though there was no meaningful way for me to put it into practice. I don’t think I ever managed to reach the level of acceptance that Oliver did – and sometimes I envied him for that. But embracing the End as a foregone conclusion doesn’t necessarily mean he’s completely unmoved by what happens in the interim. Not yet, anyway. And as of right now, whether it’s out of curiosity or compassion, obviously he still interacts with the world from time to time, even if he prefers to exist in the background for the most part.”

Martin and Georgie both look unconvinced.

“I’m not asking him to help us change fate,” Jon goes on. “In his view, there is no obstructing fate – not in any way that genuinely matters to his patron. Oliver isn’t particularly concerned about when the End will come – he’s just secure in the knowledge that it will happen eventually, with or without the interference of any mortal actor. Passive or active, nothing he does or doesn’t do will change that. But I’m thinking it’s been a long time since someone has asked him for help that he actually has the power to provide, and… I know what that’s like.”

Despite the immense power that Jon could exercise after the culmination of the Watcher’s Crown, he was ultimately powerless to change things for the better. It’s why he leapt at the chance to help Naomi in her nightmare: even a small, low-effort act of kindness after so long without the opportunity was overwhelmingly liberating.

It was insignificant against the vast backdrop of the universe, perhaps, but it still left a mark. It prompted a cascade of little changes that completely rewrote their dynamic; it curtailed some of the suffering in which Jon had previously been so unwillingly complicit; it's even acted as an inoculation against the loneliness that had permeated both of their lives during this stretch of time when Jon was last here. Those little changes mattered to him, and they mattered to Naomi – not only in that first moment, but in all the time since.

All of that had to count for something, right? It took fourteen ill-fated marks to end the world, after all. With any one of them missing, the Ritual wouldn’t have worked and the world at large would never have noticed. But that didn’t make any one of those marks wholly insignificant on its own. They scarred him and the people around him; every encounter changed him, whittled away at his sense of self, left him progressively vulnerable and set him up for successive marks.

The repercussions still linger. They probably always will.

In his sporadic moments of cautious optimism, Jon cannot help but wonder: If a series of little cruelties can create such a perfect and terrible storm, is it really inconceivable that a pattern of little rebellions could keep it at bay? And Jon has long since come to the conclusion that compassion in the face of unimaginable cruelty is its own form of rebellion.

“As much as Oliver talks about fate and inevitability,” Jon says, “he still seems to believe in free will to an extent. That we all make choices. When he last spoke to me, he offered me a choice. Now I’m offering one to him.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…” Georgie releases a weary exhale and tosses her head back to stare at the ceiling. “You’re sure this won’t come back to bite you?”

“We have nothing to lose by asking,” Jon says. “And he has nothing to lose regardless of what choice he makes, but… it feels right to at least give him the option. Whatever he decides, I won’t begrudge him for it.”

“Fine,” she says tersely. “Do what you want.”

Jon just barely suppresses a wince. “Georgie?”

“Sorry, that came off as –” Georgie heaves another sigh. “I’m not angry with you. I get it. It makes sense. I just don’t like it.”

“I know.”

“Just… be mindful, alright? You don’t owe him any answers you don’t want to give. And he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt just because you relate to him.”

“I know,” Jon says again.

“I mean it, Jon,” she says sharply. She takes a steadying breath before continuing, more diplomatically this time. “It’s… sweet, I guess, that you want to empathize with him, but you have a tendency to…” Georgie pauses, weighing her words. “I mean, I’ve seen you compare yourself to Helen, too. And Jonah.”

“Well, I don’t think anyone would deny that there are certain… similarities,” Jon says, not quite under his breath.

“Yeah, you’re always going to have something in common with other people if you look hard enough. But sometimes you see the worst in people and you fold it into how you see yourself. Like you’re looking into a funhouse mirror, but you can’t see how the reflection is distorted.” Jon avoids meeting her eyes, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it, but you have a history of comparing yourself to your abusers. Sorry,” she adds when he flinches, “but it’s the truth, and you need to hear it. Just… think about it, okay? Ask yourself whether this is compassion or if it’s just another way to dehumanize yourself.”

“I –” Jon swallows around the lump in his throat, his mouth gone dry. “Okay, I – I get your point, but – I swear that’s not what this is. With Helen, and – and – and Jonah, it’s – they’ve actually gone out of their way to – to manipulate, to cause real harm. Oliver is different.”

“You were marked by the End,” Georgie says pointedly.

“Yes, but that wasn’t Oliver’s fault. He didn’t hurt me, never tried to trap me or trick me – never pressured me into making one choice over another, even at the end of the world. I really don’t think he’s evil, or sadistic, or – or scheming, weaving some grand web. He’s just watching things unfold, because he had a crash course in the stages of grief forced onto him and the end result was… well, acceptance. He doesn’t fear the End, but he doesn’t worship it, either. He just embodies it, openly and authentically.”

Georgie is silent for nearly a full minute, scrutinizing Jon intently, before she capitulates.

“Alright. I’ll… trust your judgment, I guess,” she says, but she shares a knowing glance with Martin – who looks just as leery as she does – when she says it. “Still, be careful.”

“I, uh… I imagine you don’t want to be here when I talk to him?” Jon ventures, though he’s certain he already knows the answer.

“No,” Georgie says summarily.

Jon releases a breathless chuckle. “Fair enough.”

“I really should be getting home to Melanie, anyway. It’s stay-home date night. Pizza and a movie.” Georgie offers a tentative grin, her shoulders relaxing minutely. “She hasn’t seen the new Ghostbusters yet, somehow – something about having been preoccupied with real paranormal bullshit for the last few years – but I checked and the DVD version has audio description, so I bought a copy. She’d be cross with me if I stood her up for the grim reaper.”

“I imagine so.” Jon tilts his head. “Although, Oliver isn’t actually the–”

“Jon,” Georgie sighs, “I was being facetious.”

When the three of them leave the tunnels, they find Oliver still waiting awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs out of the Archives, Basira standing sentinel nearby. Daisy leans against a far wall, eyeing him from a distance.

Georgie gives a long, doubtful look at Oliver before turning to Jon and offering a hug that he gladly accepts.

“Text me later tonight?” Georgie says. “And keep me updated on your travel plans.”

“Will do. Tell Melanie I said hello. And tell the Admiral he’s a national treasure.”

Georgie snorts at that, shaking her head in amusement before turning towards the stairs. Oliver nearly jumps out of the way as she strides in his direction, but she doesn’t stop to confront him beyond a glare as she passes. A prolonged, awkward minute of silence passes after she leaves, charged with suspicion and tension.

“Tunnels,” Basira says eventually, her tone and expression giving nothing away. She doesn’t wait for a response before stalking off down the hall, Daisy falling in line behind her.

Basira barely waits for the others to take their seats before she launches into her interrogation. Although her eyes remain fixed on Oliver, her first question isn’t directed at him.

“Why is he here, Jon?”

“Like I said, I invited him.” Jon glances at Oliver, apologetic. It feels odd to talk about him as if he isn’t present.

“Why?”

“Mutual curiosity, I expect,” Oliver cuts in, inclining his head towards Jon. “You have questions for me.”

Jon returns a nod. He has ulterior motives, and Oliver knows it. To pretend otherwise would be pointless, not to mention insulting.

“Oliver is an Avatar of the End,” Jon tells the others. “There might be a chance he could tell us how much of what Elias says is true.”

“And what’s the price tag?” Basira asks.

“He has questions of his own. He could tell in the hospital that there’s something… wrong about me. Obviously, I couldn’t talk about it where Elias could hear.”

“You shouldn’t disclose it at all,” Basira says. “If any of it gets back to him –”

“Oliver has no reason to betray our confidence.” Jon’s gaze flicks to Oliver. “Right?”

“Consider me a neutral party,” Oliver replies.

“You’re going to just… take him at his word,” Basira scoffs.

“The End has no Ritual,” Jon says, “and it has no reason to prevent any of the other Entities from successfully pulling off their own Rituals. No matter what happens to this world, the End will claim everything eventually. The when and how are irrelevant to it. In the meantime, the world as-is suits it just fine. It has no desire to postpone or hasten the end of all things.”

“Terminus is what it is,” Oliver agrees. “I have neither the power nor the desire to contradict it.”

“Then why would you help us?” Basira asks.

“I never said that I would.”

“I’m not asking you to actively intervene,” Jon says before Basira can offer a retort. “I just want to talk. That… is why you came here, isn’t it?”

Oliver hesitates for a moment before answering. “Your curiosity must have rubbed off on me.”

Unbidden, Oliver’s statement rushes to the forefront of Jon’s mind: I still remember the first time I tried to touch one…. I don’t know why I did it; I knew it was a stupid thing to do. But I just… maybe I wanted it this way.

“Don’t know about that,” Jon says quietly. “Curiosity is only human.”

And the worst part was that, somewhere in me, I – I liked it, the statement plays on. Underneath all that awful fear, it felt like… home.

“Perhaps,” Oliver says, noncommittal.

“So you’ll tell us what we want to know,” Daisy finally speaks up. Despite her veneer of calm – leaning back in her chair, arms crossed – her bouncing leg belies her agitation.

“It makes no difference to me.” Oliver shrugs. “Though I can’t promise my answers will be satisfying.”

“I still don’t like this,” Basira says, glaring askance at Oliver.

“Look,” Jon says, “this is the only way I can think of to figure out what stakes we’re working with. Jonah has been cheating death for centuries–”

“Jon!” Basira hisses.

“It’s important context,” Jon argues back. “And anyway, it’s going to come up when I tell him my story. It’s not exactly a detail I can gloss over; it’s central to the plot.” He sighs and looks at Oliver. “Elias is Jonah Magnus, the original founder of the Institute.”

Basira throws her hands up with a frustrated snarl. She turns to Daisy for support, but Daisy only offers a sympathetic grimace and a half-shrug.

“I thought there was something odd about him,” Oliver says blandly. “He’s long past his expiration date.”

Daisy snorts at that. Judging from the bemused, almost startled expression on Oliver’s face, he hadn’t expected to garner anything other than aggression from her.

“Whenever one of his vessels is… compromised,” Jon elaborates, “or nearing the end of its usefulness, he takes a new one.”

Recovering from his fleeting bewilderment, Oliver turns his attention back to Jon. “He wouldn’t be the first.”

“Maxwell Rayner and Simon Fairchild,” Basira says.

Oliver nods. “Among others.”

“Does that… I don’t know – offend the End?” Martin asks.

“No,” Oliver says. “They can’t outrun it forever, as so many have discovered firsthand.”

“Like Rayner,” Daisy says.

Once again, Oliver looks thrown off-kilter by Daisy’s diminishing hostility, but he does offer a wary nod in response to her contribution to the conversation. “And in the meantime, their fear of their own mortality ages like a fine wine.”

“Is an unnaturally long life somehow tastier for the End, then?” Martin asks. “I think most of the statements I’ve read about it involved somehow cheating death.”

“Perhaps. If my patron has a conscious mind, it has never spoken to me directly. Everything I know to be true is just… feeling.”

“So it’s as cagey as the other Powers, then,” Daisy says with a derisive chuckle. “Good to know.”

Oliver smooths his hands across his coat, draped across his lap, before glancing at Jon for guidance.

“I gave you a story,” he says reticently. “I would like to hear yours. Then I will answer your questions.”

“Fair enough,” Jon says – and abruptly realizes that he has no idea where to start. “You, uh… you don’t need to hear my whole life story, do you?”

“I did give you an outline of mine,” Oliver says with just a hint of amusement. “I admit I’m curious as to what led you here, but I imagine if you went into detail, we would be here for hours.”

“Much of it doesn’t bear repeating, anyway,” Jon says. “Just the highlights, then?”

“If you please.”

“Right,” Jon mumbles. He takes a deep breath. “Had my first supernatural encounter when I was eight, never got over it, and a combination of lifelong obsession and unchecked curiosity brought me to the Institute. After Gertrude died, Jonah chose me as her replacement because he knew I would be easily molded into the catalyst for his Ritual, and I was.” He looks up. “Is that enough?”

“Which of the Powers marked you first? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“The Web.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you seemed… entangled.”

There’s something… off about you, Oliver had told him when they last spoke. The roots, they look… sick. Wrong. And the threads are – tangled.

It’s possible that Oliver was speaking in metaphor – alluding to the threads of fate, so to speak – but the question has been simmering in the back of Jon’s mind for months…

“When you visited me before,” he blurts out. “You said the Web sent you.”

“Yes,” Oliver says candidly. “Not an explicit command, of course. It was more a… well, a feeling. A tug. The Web usually prefers subtlety, but there are times when it wants its marks to know the hand that moves them.”

“S-so, when you said the threads around me were tangled, was that figurative, or could you… see the Web’s influence?”

“The Spider might make its presence known sometimes, but Terminus doesn’t give me the ability to see the shape of its web any more than the Eye does you.”

“Not unless the Web allows itself to be Seen,” Jon says absently.

Despite how much he could See in his future, the Web always remained something of an enigma. It wasn’t until after his standoff with the Eye that he was able to follow the Spider’s threads.

But then, the Eye hadn’t been the only watcher lurking in the Panopticon. The Web had woven itself into the foundation of that place from its conception, and the Spider made no effort to hide. More than once, it stationed itself where he was sure to notice it. The more he thinks on it, the more he suspects that the ensuing ability to See its threads, to Know where they converged, was as much an allowance by the Web as it was due to his communion with the Ceaseless Watcher.

“When I spoke of threads, I meant more…” Oliver opens and closes his mouth a few times as he struggles with his phrasing. “Well, I’ve not yet found a perfect description for it. Think of a life and fate as… a jumble of intersections. Some people feel like thread-and-nail art. Others feel like a snarled ball of yarn. You,” he adds, looking at Jon appraisingly, “are something of a Gordian knot.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Martin demands, a protective edge in his voice.

“It’s not a compliment or an insult,” Oliver says mildly. “Only an observation. Come to think of it, Gertrude was much the same way. The fates of many hinged on the routes she took. Less of a butterfly effect and more of a hurricane.”

“So you can see fate?” Basira asks. A genuine question, but the flat skepticism in her tone makes it sound rhetorical.

“To a limited extent,” Oliver says haltingly. “I see the near-future as it relates to death specifically. When people near the ends of their routes, I can make out the details of their–”

“Seeing those awful veins crawling into them, into wounds not yet open, or skulls not yet split – they sneak up and into throats about to choke on blood, or lurch into hearts about to convulse – webbed over the face of a drunk old man stumbling into his car – one snaking along the road, over towards the railing – I’ll never forget seeing a field of cows the week before they were sent to the abattoir…”

Jon trails off with a tired groan, rubbing his eyes furiously.

“You have a good memory,” Oliver says.

“Sorry,” Jon mumbles. “Archivist thing. Can’t always control it.”

“S-so,” Martin redirects, “if any of us were about to die, you would be able to see it, right?”

“Yes. But I don’t make a habit of telling fortunes,” Oliver clarifies before Martin can ask. “Knowing your end is coming does nothing to prevent it. It only ensures that you will live your final days in fear.”

“Wouldn’t your patron like that?” Daisy asks.

Basira immediately latches onto that thought. “We have a statement here about a book that tells you how and when you’ll die.”

“Case number 0030912,” Jon cites. “Statement of Masato Murray, regarding his inheritance of an untitled book with supernatural properties. Each time the reader rereads their entry, they’ll find that the recorded date of their future death draws closer and the cause more gruesome.”

“Thanks, spooky Google,” Basira says sardonically. “Who needs an indexing system when we have a walking, talking card catalogue on staff?”

“One of my predecessors in ancient times once filed a complaint with the Eye, aggrieved by all the terrible powers it foisted upon him,” Jon says matter-of-factly, not missing a beat. “Being a benevolent patron, it granted him and all future generations of Archivists a convenience feature as compensation.”

“Smartass,” Basira says, but it sounds almost amiable, and Jon allows himself a tentative smile.

His tolerance for making light of this part of himself tends to be variable. Unpredictable, even. On good days, shared gallows humor is a balm, bringing with it a sense of solidarity and camaraderie; on bad days, even the gentlest dig feels like a barb.

He also tends to be selective about whose teasing he can weather. Martin and Georgie are safe more often than not. Daisy can usually get away with it; she’s prompt to let him in on the joke whenever he doesn’t pick up on her sarcasm. Given how blunt Melanie can be, it at least tends to be obvious when her pointed comments are meant in jest or in umbrage; and anyway, he hasn’t yet spoken to her directly since she quit.

Basira, though – she’s always been difficult to read. They have a similar sense of humor, but part of his brain is still living in a time when she saw the worst in him. No matter how many times he tells himself that things are different now, he can’t quite shake that feeling of being on indefinite probation. Hostile attribution bias, he recognizes, but having a label for it doesn’t make it any easier to silence those perennial fears. It’s only recently that he’s been able to take such joking from her in stride. Not always, but sometimes.

“Anyway,” Basira says, looking back to Oliver, “I take it that book is affiliated with the End. It feeds on the reader’s fear of knowing the details of their death.”

“Almost everyone has some degree of fear regarding mortality – their own or that of others,” Oliver says. “For some, that primal fear permeates their entire lives. Others only spare it any thought when it closes in on them. Terminus feeds on all of it equally. I suspect that active encounters with it are more about…”

“Flavor?” Basira suggests.

“So to speak,” Oliver says. “Welcome variety in its diet, but not necessary to sate it.”

“Which is why its Avatars have such wildly different methodologies,” Jon says, nodding to himself. “Justin Gough was allowed to survive a near-death experience, but acquired a debt that had to be paid in the lives of others, killing them in their dreams. Tova McHugh was granted the ability to prolong her own life by passing each of her intended deaths onto others, adding their remaining lifespans to her own. Nathaniel Thorpe was cursed with immortality after trying to cheat his way out of death. He was only one of many gamblers who played such games of chance–”

“Jon,” Basira sighs, “you don’t have to go through the whole roster of personified death omens.”

“Sorry.”

“So what kind of Avatar are you?” Basira asks, looking Oliver up and down. “How do you feed your patron?”

“For me, Terminus has not been particularly demanding. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because I never attempted to cheat my way out of death. It simply… chose me – or I wandered across its path – and it never left. Thus far, it seems content to have me play the observer.” He glances at Jon. “You can probably understand that.”

“The Beholding isn’t satisfied to have its Archivist simply observe. It wants its knowledge actively harvested, recorded, curated.” Jon huffs, not bothering to contain his disgust. “Processed.”

The conversation lapses into a tense silence for several seconds before Basira changes tack.

“About Gertrude,” she says. “You tried to warn her about her death.”

“Yes,” Oliver replies.

“Why?”

“The evidence of her death snaked its roots all across London – as far as I could see, and perhaps further. At the time, I’d never seen anything like it. Such a sprawling web of repercussions stemming from a single death – I felt like I had to say something. As I expected, it made no difference in the end.”

Jon worries his lower lip between his teeth. “You said the roots surrounding me seemed sick.”

“You saw roots around Jon?” Martin says urgently, jolting up ramrod-straight in his seat.

“They’re… different from the ones I’ve grown accustomed to,” Oliver says slowly. “There’s no light pulsing within them, no life flowing to or from them. And looking at them, it’s almost like…” He frowns, squinting down at the floor as if it might offer up the words he needs. “It’s like they’re there and not there simultaneously. Faded, like an afterimage – one that can only be seen from a certain angle.”

“Okay, and what does that – what does that mean?” Martin asks.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I was hoping Jon could shed some light on it,” Oliver says, raising his head to meet Jon’s eyes. “I may not have the same drive to know that you and yours do, but I find myself returning to the question frequently over the past few months.”

“R-right,” Jon says. “Let me just, uh… where to start…”

Jon rubs at this throat with one hand, the other clenching into a fist where it rests on his knee.

“Jon,” Daisy says, “are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I just, uh –” Jon breathes a nervous laugh. “This never gets any easier.”

“Do you want me to say it?” Martin offers, schooling his tone into something approaching calm. His posture remains rigid, though, hands balled into white-knuckled fists in his lap.

“No, it’s fine.” Jon takes a few deep breaths and then looks Oliver in the eye. “In the future, I ended the world.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think the Beholding gave you any precognitive abilities.”

“It, uh – it doesn’t. I didn’t foresee the future, I lived it. For… for a long time, actually, so I –” Jon exhales a humorless chuckle. “I probably meet your definition of past my expiration date.”

Oliver tilts his head, considering.

“Hard to say,” he settles on. “You’re… a bit of a paradox. Feels as if you exist in multiple states at once, and it’s difficult for me to tell which one is true.”

“Maybe all of them are,” Jon says distractedly. “But, I, uh – I eventually found a way to come back to before the change – or, to send my consciousness back, anyway. But only as far back as the coma. I… I wish it had taken me back further – back to the very beginning, though I” – Jon huffs – “I suppose it’s hard to say what counts as the beginning.”

“It depends on how you want to define a beginning,” Oliver says. “In a way, the advent of existence marked the beginning of the end. Everything since then has been just another domino.”

“Well,” Jon begins, but Daisy cuts him off.

“Nope,” she says bluntly. “You go down that semantic rabbit hole and we’ll be here forever.”

“Fine,” Jon says with a petulant sigh. “Anyway, I couldn’t figure out how to wake up on my own, so just like the first time I was here, I had to wait for you to come along and help.”

“I still don’t understand why,” Oliver says.

“Neither do I, I’m afraid.”

“Not to encroach on your sphere of influence, but I think in this case, not knowing the answer might bother me even more than it does you.” Oliver releases a quiet sigh. “So you came back to stop yourself from starting the apocalypse.”

“It’s not like he chose to end the world,” Martin says, immediately leaping to Jon’s defense once more.

“Apologies,” Oliver says with an earnest nod in Martin’s direction. “I didn’t intend to imply otherwise.” He glances at Jon. “I’ve known of many who seek to bring on the end in the hopes that they will be able to choose what shape it takes. You don’t strike me as the sort.”

“No. But Jonah is.” Jon ducks his head as he speaks, fingers twisting in his jumper. “He wanted – wants to rule over a world reshaped in the Beholding’s image. He needed an Archivist with particular qualities to serve as the linchpin of his Ritual. So he created one. By the time he showed his hand, it was too late. I was the key, and Jonah didn’t need my consent in order to open the door.”

“I imagine it didn’t go as he planned,” Oliver says.

“No,” Jon says with a grim laugh. “No, it didn’t. He suffered as much as anyone else did in that reality. It all started because he was afraid of his own mortality, and yet – in the end, he met a fate worse than death.”

“Whatever it was, he deserved it,” Martin mutters.

“Maybe so,” Jon says. “But it was never about deserving. There was some poetic justice there, seeing him brought down by his own hubris, but… at the end of the day, he got the same treatment as anyone else. Just – pointless suffering, utterly divorced from the concept of consequences. Had a way of… diluting the schadenfreude, honestly.”

Martin’s spark of vindication appears to fizzle out as Jon speaks, his shoulders slumping and his eyes softening.

“Regardless,” Jon continues, “Jonah wanted to be a god, but at his core, he was no different from any other human. Fodder for the Fears. And the one he feared the most – it was in no hurry to finish the meal. I imagine by the time Terminus finally came for him in earnest, he would have welcomed it.”

“Those who seek immortality always come to see it as a curse in time,” Oliver says sagely. “When they come to terms with the fact that there is no such thing as a truly immortal existence, it comes as a relief.”

“I walked through your domain once,” Jon says after a pause. “You gave me a statement about the End’s place in that world. The domains were reluctant to let their victims die – they’d bring them to the brink, then revive them and repeat the process – but the Fears are greedy. Eventually, they would suck their victims dry –”

“– bones – every one of them – picked clean and cracked open – desperately gnawing – trying to reach whatever scant marrow might have remained inside – sucked from them to leave nothing but dry, white fragments – the hunger he saw in their eyes–”

Jon bites down on his tongue. That’s quite enough of that.

“You alright?” Martin says, leaning over and putting a hand on Jon’s knee.

“Sorry,” Jon says gruffly. “That one was…”

“Grisly?” Daisy says.

“Yeah,” Jon huffs. “But – not necessarily inapt? That reality was a closed economy. No new people were being born. The ones who already existed were destined to die, no matter how unwilling the other Fears were to grant that release.”

“As has always been the order of things,” Oliver says.

“You predicted that eventually the Fears would start poaching victims from one another’s domains – and they did. There were…” Jon grimaces. “There were a lot of territorial disputes, towards the end there. Domains encroaching on one another, monsters fighting over scraps. The Eye got its fill Watching it all play out, of course, but given enough time, it would have starved, same as all the rest.”

“And once the world was rendered barren,” Oliver says, understanding, “Terminus itself would die.”

Jon nods. “And until that happened, both you and your patron were content to let things play out.”

“Terminus is patient.”

Too patient, Jon thought at the time.

“I don’t think it was your intention,” he says, “but your statement did come as a relief. I already expected as much – that eventually it would all end – but having it corroborated by an authority on the matter was… very welcome.”

“People may fear death,” Oliver says, “but anyone who outruns it long enough finds that there is a much deeper fear hiding underneath – that of having the release of death withheld from them.”

“We have a lot of statements to that tune,” Basira says.

“I imagine so.”

“So,” Daisy says brusquely, “is that enough of a story for you?”

“I suppose,” Oliver says. “Although it raises more questions than it grants answers.”

“Our turn for questions, then?” Basira asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “The… veins, or… roots you saw around Gertrude. You’re saying they didn’t just foretell her death, but showed how it would impact everything else. So, what about the ones you saw around Jon?”

“It’s difficult to observe them for any length of time, but they do seem… more sprawling.” Oliver studies Jon for a moment, considering. “Like you are the heart of a watershed moment destined to happen.”

“So that’s it, then,” Jon says dully. “I’m still the spark for it all.”

Pandora’s box with a ‘use by’ date, he thinks to himself, somewhat hysterically.

He already knew it to be true, but that doesn’t make the confirmation any less harrowing. Everything hinges on his ability to keep his head above water, but the fate of the world weighs ever more heavily on his shoulders, pressing down, down, down –

“Does that mean…” Jon hugs his middle, slowly curling in on himself. “Does that mean it’s going to happen again?”

“I cannot say.” If Jon’s not mistaken, Oliver sounds… almost sympathetic. “This is unprecedented. I can only theorize. It’s possible that you’re like Gertrude, and what I see is a premonition. Or maybe the reality you came from still exists, parallel to this one, and it still clings to you. Perhaps it’s a Schrödinger’s cat, and it both does and does not exist, right up until the point where you do or do not bring it into being. Or maybe it doesn't exist, and the roots I see are only… imprints, so to speak. Echoes of a time and place that this world will never overlap.”

“Like trace fossils,” Jon murmurs. “Ghosts.”

“If you like.”

“Could you – could you follow them?” Jon can feel his pulse quicken, his heart thrumming in his throat. “See where they originate?”

“They originate from you.”

“O-oh.” Jon’s gaze darts uncertainly around the area before fixing on Oliver again. “Then, uh – can you see where they end?”

“You have a suspicion,” Basira says, watching Jon carefully.

Jon swallows around the breath caught in his throat. “What if they go back to Hill Top Road?”

“As far as I can tell, they reach out in all directions,” Oliver says. “There may not be a single end point. Regardless, I have no desire to visit Hill Top Road.”

“Oh,” Jon says despondently. It’s not like he expected Oliver to go out of his way to help, but…

“Would it really tell you anything of value anyway?” Martin asks.

“I don’t know,” Jon says, running a hand through his hair, one finger getting caught in a knot and pulling hard at his scalp. “But – but it feels like something I should at least check –”

“To what end?” Daisy asks. Jon looks at her blankly. “No offense, Sims, but the most likely outcome is you get no real answers, you lose yourself obsessing over theories, each more catastrophic than the last, and you spend the next few weeks compulsively checking yourself for spiders. Some things aren’t worth chasing after.”

“I just – I feel like I should know one way or the other –”

“Is that you or the Eye talking?” Martin asks.

“What’s the difference?” Jon says flatly. He immediately regrets it when he glimpses the expression on Martin’s face – a very familiar mixture of concern and frustration. “I’m sorry. Just… I don’t know. I don’t Know.”

Jon tugs on his hair once more, focusing on the dull ache it produces. He’s always had trouble letting things go. Letting questions go unanswered; letting mysteries go unsolved. The Beholding just nurtured that obsessiveness, encouraged that impulse to proliferate in his head like a weed and choke out his inhibitions.

“You’re here now,” Martin says firmly. “You can’t go back, so you may as well go forward.”

“Yeah,” Jon says, guilt heavy and searing in his chest.

“Like I said,” Oliver says, rubbing the back of his neck, “my knowledge of the future is narrow. I can’t tell you anything about parallel universes, or branching timelines, or the ability to alter history. The only certainty is that anything that begins will have an end, one way or another. All the rest is just… details.”

Martin folds his arms across his chest, examining Oliver with narrowed eyes. “You say that like the details are irrelevant.”

“I wonder about that,” Oliver says softly.

“Well, I think our experiences matter,” Martin says. “The fact that we were here at all, it’s… it’s not nothing.”

“Even those who make the greatest impact are forgotten in time.”

“So what? It will always have happened, even if no one is alive to remember it. And – and you never know when something little will have an impact on someone, which contributes to them doing something that makes a greater impact – that changes history.”

“Even time itself will end eventually. History will be forgotten, and nothing will remain to register its loss.”

“And?” Martin persists. “We won’t be around to see it. In the meantime, we’re here. We’re alive. If we’re going to end no matter what, why not make it worthwhile? Sure, there are no equivalent powers of hope and love to counter the Fears, but – but who cares? That just means that we have to make up for that absence.” Jon smiles to himself as Martin builds momentum – shoulders pushed back, chest thrust out, head held higher, speech growing more impassioned as he argues his point. “If a few mistakes and some asshole with a god complex can end the world, who’s to say a few deliberate kindnesses can’t save it?”

“Am I the asshole with the god complex?” Jon says drily. Judging from Martin’s disapproving scowl, he is not in the mood for self-deprecating humor. “Sorry, sorry. But, uh – in all seriousness, I think it was more than a few mistakes on my part–”

“You know what I meant, Jon,” Martin snaps. “And – and fine, maybe a few kindnesses can’t save the whole world, but – but they can save someone’s world. They can save a person. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Yes,” Jon says with a small smile. “Yes, it does.”

“R-right.” Martin blinks several times, momentarily stunned by the lack of resistance. “It doesn’t change the world – except for how it does. Just – the universe might not care, but we can, and that’s exactly why we should. It’s… it’s what we owe to each other. That’s what I think, at least.”

Martin goes quiet then, arms still folded with a mixture of self-consciousness and sullen defiance.

“How long have you had that rant queued up?” Daisy teases.

“A while,” Martin says, rubbing his arm sheepishly.

“You’re quite the romantic,” Oliver says. He says it like a compliment, albeit somewhat wistful.

“Yeah, well.” Martin blushes at the praise in spite of himself. “Someone has to counter the fatalism around here.”

If you ask Jon, there are many reasons to love Martin Blackwood. This is doubtless one of them.

“Besides,” Martin recovers, apparently on a roll now, “it seems to me there’s as much evidence for fate being changeable as not. Yeah, sure, eventually everything dies, but who’s to say that the details are set in stone? Like – like that book, the one where the details of a person’s death change every time they read it.”

“But does their fate actually change, or is it just the book messing with their heads?” Basira says, tapping her fingers against her lips and looking down at the floor pensively. “If the End has foreknowledge of a person’s death, maybe the last entry a person reads before dying was always their fate, and all the previous accounts were just lies intended to seed fear.”

When Jon opens his mouth to chime in, the Archive seizes the initiative, unceremonious as ever.

"When did it change?” comes the cadence of Masato Murray. “Was it when I turned back to read it again? Or perhaps when I had made the decision to never visit Lancashire? If the book knew the future, then how much did it know me? My decisions and choices were my own, so was it responding to them or simply to the fact that I opened the book again? Perhaps it changed every time I opened it, even if I didn’t read the page, every interaction changing my fate…. When I close the book I wonder: are those same words still there, squatting and biding their time, or have they already changed into some new unknown terror that I can neither know nor avoid, waiting to spring on me.”

Jon holds his breath in anticipation. After a few seconds of suspense, the pressure recedes, the Archive having spoken its peace.

“Archive’s talkative today,” Basira observes.

“Apparently,” Jon grumbles. “What I originally meant to say was that I’ve wondered the same thing – whether the book was really telling the future or simply playing on the fears of the reader.”

“Maybe offering textual support is another convenience feature?” Daisy keeps her tone carefully neutral, gauging his mood.

“The Beholding is known for being exceedingly generous,” he retorts.

Basira ignores the banter and speaks directly to Oliver. “Do you know?”

“I’m unfamiliar with the book in question,” he replies. “All the deaths I’ve personally foreseen have come to pass so far. That says nothing about whether or not the End always reveals the truth to all who cross its path.”

“Right.” Basira shakes her head. “Not sure why I expected a straightforward answer.”

“Maybe there isn’t one,” Martin says. For a fraction of a second, Basira tenses. Jon suspects she’s just as repulsed by such a prospect as he is.

“Whatever,” she says curtly. “It isn’t important right now. What I want to know is how to deal with Jonah Magnus. So” – she pins Oliver in place with sharp, unblinking eyes – “what can you tell us about his mortality?”

“In short? He won’t live forever, regardless of how much he wants to deny that reality.”

“Yeah, you’ve said,” Daisy says, tossing her head back with an impatient groan. “Him dying eventually doesn’t help us now.”

“I’m not a mind-reader,” Oliver says. “If there’s more to your question, you’ll need to elaborate. What are you actually asking? How to kill him? For me to tell you whether his death is on the horizon?”

“Jonah claims that he’s the ‘beating heart of the Institute,’” Jon explains. “He says that if he dies, everyone else who works here dies as well. You were able to see the ripples created by Gertrude’s death. I suppose I thought – maybe you could tell us if there’s something similar with Jonah.”

“If his death was imminent, perhaps.” Oliver averts his eyes as he twists a ring around his finger, growing increasingly tense under such concentrated scrutiny. “But as I said before, I don’t make a habit of telling fortunes.”

“So you won’t tell us,” Martin says.

“To be frank, this place is rife with potential.” Oliver casts his gaze around the area, as if seeing something the others cannot. “It would be… difficult to untangle it all.”

“Fine,” Basira says tartly. “Then can you tell us whether it’s possible for him to set up a dead man’s switch in the first place? Seems to me something like that would be the End’s domain, wouldn’t it?”

“It would.”

“Then would he be able to exercise any real power over it?” Basira persists. “There’s nothing inherent to the Eye that suggests its Avatars should be able to bind others’ lives to them. Even the Archivist doesn’t work like that – we’re linked to Jon as far as being unable to quit goes, but we won’t die if he does. I think it’s more likely that Jonah did something extra to bind the Institute to himself.”

“Assuming he’s even telling the truth,” Daisy says.

“So, is there an artefact that could let him do it?” Basira asks, still staring Oliver down. “A ritual? A favor from an affiliate of the End, maybe?”

“Terminus has a variety of ways in which it operates,” Oliver says cagily, “same as all the other Powers. I don’t seek out instances of those manifestations. Given the sheer number of statements collected here, it's likely you’re all more familiar with the breadth of its influence than I am.”

“You’re very helpful,” Daisy scoffs.

Oliver hunches his shoulders, chastised. It’s an odd sight – Jon wouldn’t have expected him to be particularly affected by such an accusation. Oliver never promised to be helpful; does not owe them his cooperation. Before Jon can pursue that thought any further, though, Oliver continues.

“I will say that Terminus is its own master. Those who believe they have tamed it are only fooling themselves. Orchestrating their own misery. The moment in which they finally realize that fact – that they have never had the upper hand, that the entire time they have never strayed from the route to which Terminus binds them…” Oliver chews the inside of his cheek, considering. “The existential terror that moment creates – I wonder sometimes whether it’s a delicacy to my patron.”

“Sounds a lot like the Web,” Basira says. The suggestion must pique his interest, because Oliver sits up straighter and leans forward ever so slightly.

“Except the Web reviles its extinction as much as the other powers, and as much as any mortal mind,” he says – not quite excited, but more engaged than before. “Terminus, on the other hand – its eventual oblivion is part and parcel of its existence. It does not fear the conclusion of its story. The Web will never surrender to such a fate. It will always seek an escape route, some way to appoint itself the weaver of its own ends. Its threads can never stray from the confines of the routes dictated by Terminus, but the concept that it may itself be under the guidance of another… such a thing is incompatible with its definition. Still, the shape of the Spider’s web will always mirror the blueprints of a greater architect.”

“And you think the same is true for Jonah,” Jon says.

“I know it is.”

“Okay, but – but Jon changed fate,” Martin protests. “In a million little ways – some we probably don’t even know about – and some big ones, too. So who’s to say that every step of the route is part of the End’s blueprints? What if – hold on.”

Martin stands and moves to Jon’s makeshift desk, rummaging around for a few seconds before coming up with a pen. He snatches one of Melanie’s therapy worksheets from the top of the pile and turns it over to the blank side.

“What if the only things set in stone are – are certain points along the route,” he says, scribbling a scattering of dots across the page, “but all that matters is that the route eventually intersects with those points?” Martin connects two points with a wavy, sine-like line. “Maybe it doesn’t even matter how convoluted” – he draws another line, this time with several loop-de-loops – “or long” – yet another line, this one traveling all the way up to the top of the page and making several winding turns before plunging back down to connect with the next dot – “the path is.” He holds up the finished product for everyone to see. “As long as the dots connect, the rest is free reign.”

“I like to think that choice plays a role,” Oliver says. “That fate is less of a track and more of a guideline. But honestly, there’s no way to know for certain. I only know the end point. The rest is speculation.”

“It’s also possible that the rift brought me to an alternate reality,” Jon says, eyes downcast. “If the reality of my original timeline still exists, I haven’t changed fate at all. I’ve just jumped to a different track.”

“Okay, and if that’s the case, and this is a different dimension,” Martin says heatedly, “then that means it has its own timeline and its own future, and whatever happened in your future has no bearing on ours.” Martin glares, daring Jon to argue. He doesn’t. “So it’s a moot point. If we can’t know one way or the other whether the future is already written, then let’s just act as if it isn’t. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best. At least then it will feel meaningful.”

“The worst isn’t something you can prepare for,” Jon says darkly. “Trust me, I know.”

“If I want ominous proverbs, I’ll let you know,” Martin immediately counters – and Jon loves him for it. Daisy chokes on a startled laugh; Martin ignores her, instead pivoting to face Oliver. “We want to kill Jonah Magnus. Or, at least make it so he can’t perform his Ritual. But preferably kill.”

“Never realized you were so bloodthirsty, Blackwood,” Daisy says approvingly.

“The world will be a better place without him in it,” Martin says without a hint of indecision, not looking away from Oliver. “Jonah’s original body is in the center of the Panopticon. Except his eyes, because apparently transplanting them into innocent people is how he cheats death, because of course it is, why wouldn’t it be some messed up–”

“Martin,” Basira sighs.

“Okay, fine, moving on,” Martin sasses back. “It makes me wonder, would destroying his original body hurt him, or do we need to destroy his original eyes as well, or would destroying just his eyes be enough? And – and would it kill him, or just – blind him, disconnect him from the Beholding? Or – or would that kill him, because the Beholding is what’s keeping him alive?”

“Your guesses are as good as mine,” Oliver says. “Much of this really does come down to speculation and thought experiment, and it seems you’ve done plenty of that amongst yourselves already. I’m afraid that the only certainty I can offer is the certainty of an ending, and I don’t think that’s as much of a consolation to you as it is to me.”

“No, it’s not,” Martin says.

“But, uh – thank you for your honesty,” Jon jumps in. “For trying.”

“I really do wish I had better answers for you,” Oliver says, not quite meeting his eyes. “The End is… somewhat of an echo chamber at times. When you’re already on the inside looking out, it can be… difficult, to shift perspective.”

“I wouldn’t be able to offer many straightforward answers about my patron, either,” Jon admits.

“Wait,” Martin says. “Could you… could you at least tell us whether you can see anything about our deaths?”

Oliver draws in a deep breath and releases it slowly. “In my experience, there’s nothing to be gained from such knowledge.”

“Tell us anyway,” Basira says.

“Why?” Oliver says tiredly, his hands curling into loose fists. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because if you can see something, it could help us narrow down possibilities,” Basira replies. “If you see all of us dying in the same way, maybe it means we all die when Magnus does.”

“Or it just means you all die in the same freak accident.”

“Wait, do we?” Martin asks, his voice pitching higher in alarm.

“It was just an example,” Oliver says, scrubbing one hand down his face. “I’m just saying that this kind of knowledge doesn’t tend to give people the answers that they want.” Met with nothing but four determined stares, his shoulders sag in defeat. “Are you all certain you want to know?”

Everyone nods. Oliver equivocates for a full minute, rubbing at his forehead in complete silence. Eventually, he releases a long, low sigh.

“Right now,” he says, “I don’t see death closing in on any one of you.”

“Shit,” Martin says on a heavy exhale. “The way you were putting it off, I was sure you were going to predict a massacre.”

“Honestly,” Daisy mutters. “Bury the lead much?”

Jon ignores them, preoccupied with the implications of Oliver's revelation. If they were planning on killing Jonah tomorrow, it would say nothing about whether they were to succeed, but it would suggest they don’t die in the process, which would at least offer some reassurance going in. But Jon has no idea when they’ll be able to execute any sort of plan. This only confirms that none of them are likely to die in the next few weeks – and that’s assuming that Oliver’s premonition is accurate. Up until now, his predictions have come true, but there’s a first time for everything.

Judging from the contemplative frown on Basira’s face, she’s running through the same calculations.

“How far out can you see?” she asks.

“It varies,” Oliver says. “Weeks, usually. Sometimes months.”

“And it could change in a few weeks,” Daisy says.

“It could change tomorrow. It could change an hour from now.” Oliver looks between the four of them with a faint, melancholy smile. “I did warn you that it wouldn’t offer much sense of security. It only makes you want to know more.”

“Look where you are,” Basira scoffs.

“Point taken,” Oliver says with a startled laugh. “But honestly, ask yourself whether it’s all that different from Masato Murray and his book. If it’s worth living your life around the question of when and how – especially when the answer, should you receive one, will never put your mind at ease.”

“Just to be clear, ah – was I included in that prophecy? Or do you still see the veins around me?” Jon asks. Oliver raises his eyebrows. “I know, I know – the answer won’t satisfy me. Just – humor me?”

“Yes,” Oliver sighs, “I can still see them, if I look for them, but as we covered quite exhaustively, they look atypical and wrong and I don’t know what to make of them.” A tinge of indignation breaks through Oliver's characterisic mild manner – and then the moment passes. “I don’t think they indicate an imminent demise, but much about you is an enigma.”

“And there’s nothing else you can tell us about Jonah Magnus?” Basira asks.

“It isn’t a matter of if he can be killed, but how. Unfortunately, you’ll have to figure that part out for yourselves. As for whether or to what extent he could bind his fate to the rest of the Institute… there are any number of strange phenomena and improbable feats in this world. I would never claim to be an authority on the scope of it all.” Oliver offers another wistful ghost of a smile. “I’m afraid you might just have to take a leap of faith.”

Again, Jon thinks with an inward sigh.

But at least he can say he’s had practice.

End Notes:

Citations for Jon’s Archive-speak are as follows: MAG 011; 011; 168; 121; 156; 070. The “I still remember the first time…” & “And the worst part was that…” Oliver quotes are from MAG 121.  

Yes, “what we owe to each other” is a nod to The Good Place.  

So. This… was a beast of a chapter, and the last half of it really kicked my ass, which is why it’s taken so long to finally finish it. Still not sure how I feel about it – it’s a bit of a digression, but I’m hoping it still fits in thematically. Either way, next chapter we’re moving on to Ny-Ålesund.

Hopefully it won’t take me an entire month this time to write the next chapter, but… we’re down to two episodes left, folks. Chances are, next time I update, we’ll have heard the series finale. Are you all ready? Because I categorically am NOT. aaaaaaaaa

(That said, I already have a handful of epilogue standalone fics planned for this AU once the main story is done. Because hurt/comfort and recovery fics are going to be at the top of my hierarchy of needs once Jonny Sims destroys me in two weeks, I s2g.)

Thanks for reading!