#You can tell they’re struggling but they still chase joy.

[thepersonperson]

I think JJK going on break after the last chapter is a bit cruel. This is nerve-wracking. We still have 3 chapters left and so many things can happen there. 268 feels too good to be true and the title is weird.

I'm not sure what is the right translation and I don't have access to raws. Right now, it's 268 title is "Finale" or "Conclusion" but I heard from someone that it can be also be read as "Curtains".

If it can be read as "Curtains", then it could be a reference to "final curtains". The problem is JJK has its own version of "Curtains", right? Idk what to think.

Gosh I wish it was “Curtains”. The chapter title is 決着 (Kecchaku) which means settlement/conclusion/end.

For example, at the end of an extremely brutal fight in Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, Jolyne screams “Kechakuuuuuuu!” (決着ゥゥーーーッ!!) (It's actually a small Jojo meme in the JP fandom.) This got translated as "Game set!"

I love the localization they used for this since that entire battle was like struggling in arcade mode for a fighting game.

Anyways, in the context of JJK, especially since this has been a literal Sukuna Gauntlet and the previous chapter had the “Ringing the bell on a long fight.” editor’s comment, I don’t think there’s an ambiguous way to read Kecchaku. The Curtain/Veil kanji in JJK is 帳 (Tobari). (Though if there’s some fancy wordplay I’m missing please let me know.)

However…I would kneel before Gege if this was an elaborate trick by Sukuna—him giving Yuji delusions of a happy ending only to yank it away last second. It’s very hard to make characters feel familiar but slightly off on purpose for misdirection. That kind of tonal control is something I praise Umineko for. (Dungeon Meshi does it excellently for the shapeshifter scene.)

But that is pure copium I think. Sometimes otherwise good media just fumbles the endings. (Not an example of good media, but I was around for the Secret BBC Sherlock Season 4 Ending meltdown so I’m not too hopeful about a turnaround.) I personally blame the JP work culture/crunch since a lot of modern mangas have rushed endings due to burnout/unfair contracts.

I think the most heartbreaking examples of this phenomenon for me are The Owl House and Moral Orel. Those shows still stick the landing imo, but the creators are very open about how studio interference forced them to condense everything. You can feel that suffocation in the final episodes. Everything is just slightly off and you know it would be better if the creators were allowed their breathing room.

[muffinsin]

muffin! Muffin! I just saw something interesting. Babies ears are more developed by 25-26 weeks and can hear and recognize voices and sounds especially of the parents.

And I got a request if you can, can you do the sisters talking to their unborn child that is still in the womb of their female s/o and how they react when the baby kicks when they hear the sisters voice.

Oh? That’s cool, hon! :) Absolutely🙌 :)

Let’s get into it📝

Masterlists

Bela

Bela is there throughout your pregnancy, every day, day and night

She sticks to your side, helps you through everything that has happened and all that is yet to come

She understands, this is difficult for you and will do all she can to make it easier for you

And really, she is an incredible help, easing pains and satisfying cravings within minutes

But, pregnancy is not only a discomfort

The two of you find the joy in it, too

Of course, both of you look forward to your unborn child

Sometimes, the two of you like to joke around, listing names the little one might receive when they’re ready to come out

Sometimes, your little one joins in on this

Bela giggles every time her voice causes a kick. You two figure it either means the baby loves, or hates the name she proposes

Doing this turns out to be one of your favorite activities

After all, not only does it distract you from your struggles and grants her a break from work, but it also gives you both the opportunity to bond with your little one already

Often, you’re sat up in bed or on a sofa, giggling as she caresses your stomach

“How about….Mary?”, she asks, having already decided the child’s middle name to be Alcina, should it be a girl

No kick, and both of you giggle when your lover pouts

“What abouuuut, Anna?”, she asks playfully

Feeling a kick, you write it down on a list of names the two of you have collected over the past days

“What are we thinking about…ugh, please don’t give us a kick, little one…Daniela?”, Bela asks this time, sticking true to her promise to not immediately rule the name out after her sister woke both of you up in the middle of the night, insisting it would be such a perfect name for your unborn child

You laugh, holding your stomach as a series of little kicks follows

Bela is sure; it’s just because of her voices and playful tone!

Still, you note the name down

“Let’s try Susan!”

No kick, and you quickly turn Bela’s frown into a smile when you pull her in for a kiss

You both smile, whispering gentle love confessions as the little one within your stomach kicks again

Just when she’s about to try another name, you interrupt;

“What if it’s a boy?”

Bela looks shocked for a moment, as though utterly surprised at the mention of the other gender

Ah, yes, she nearly forgot about that

Giggling, she speaks; “Daniel”

Cassandra

When thinking of this particular Dimitrescu, words such as “gentle”, “loving” and “parental” don’t quite come to mind

Alas, this is exactly what the sadistic woman is with you

After all, she does not like pain she doesn’t cause you, of course

But, more importantly, she feels so very strongly towards your unborn child already

She loves them so very much already, feels so protective of them already

She loves you and your little one more than anything else

And your little one loves hers

The sound of her voice seems familiar to them already

Each time she crackles loudly as she chases her sisters or some poor maid throughout the castle, the sound echoing loudly, your little one gives a happy kick

And every time she sleeps by your stomach, her hand and face near to protect you and the baby in all cases, and small purr-like sounds come from her, the baby is blissfully calm

Almost as if they recognize their mother and feel equally calmed by the sound

When you tell Cassandra about this, she immediately takes the opportunity to spend time with you and your unborn child

Often, you need to remind her not to share battle stories

You doubt the small thing can even understand words- in fact are sure of it- but with Cassandra’s DNA…you don’t want to risk it

The two of you also uncover another thing, though:

Cassandra’s voice not only alerts the baby, but calms it, too

Often, the little one will be kicking wildly just around bedtime

It’s frustrating, somewhat painful and annoying when you’re just in need of sleep

Cassandra gets by your side immediately, stroking your hair and stomach, trying to calm the little one down

She speaks calmly, whispers gently as she talks

And it helps

The little one, despite being unable to make out what she says, quiets down at her voice and calm, quiet tone

She jokingly calls herself the baby-whisperer

Daniela

Loving as she is as a partner, you knew she would be just as sweet with your little one

Even in the womb, Daniela already is head over heels in love with the little one

She knows, she will love and care for them forever and protect them for eternity

The first time the two of you find out the baby recognizes her voice, both of you are blown away

You feel so tired, resting in bed, clutching your stomach and whining at the little kicks happening just about every time you close your eyes

You’re at your limit, it seems, whining and groaning

You’re so tired…

You smile exhaustedly as Daniela slips in bed with you, stroking along your bare stomach lovingly

“Hey, little one”, she whispers quietly

“Why don’t we let mama have some rest? Or else she’ll take it out on me”, she adds, giggling when you smack the back of her head playfully

To your surprise though, the sounds of her giggles has the little one kick

“Oh? You like that?”, Daniela coos, giggling more as more kicks follow

“You like when mama smacks me around?”, she gasps playfully, giggling when another kick comes

The two are so precious, you feel as your eyes water already

You love them so incredibly much

“I think they got that from their aunt Cassie”, Daniela whispers, giggling when another kick comes

You feel her adjust your position, allowing you to lay down comfortably

“Now, why don’t we let mama get some rest, you little stinker?”

A last kick, no more follow when Daniela stops talking

She curls up by your side instead, stroking your stomach until you fall asleep

Not wanting to draw another kick from the little one, she stays quiet

Instead, her fingertip trails against your stomach, lightly drawing out a shape

A shape of a little heart

[eflen-n-reegee]

Caregiver Emotions Headcanons (Inside Out)

This one was a little tricky; it’s hard to write them as completely independent characters rather than extensions of Riley. But this is my very favorite Pixar film, and one of my biggest comfort movies, so I tried my best. 🙂

Joy

She is a super playful caregiver, constantly messing with you and telling jokes.

Her high energy means she’s always ready for a game of chase or make-believe or just whatever!

She constantly tries to make the best of things, which can sometimes be… a little frustrating. But at other times, she is truly able to help turn things around, so it balances out.

Joy has absolutely no qualms about breaking the rules for “good” reasons; the others sometimes have to reign her in. (“Oh, you can totally have another cookie, sweetheart-” “Joy, this is how people get stomachaches!”)

She is much better at listening than she used to be, and more willing to step back if she isn’t the caregiver you need at the moment.

Sadness

She’s a much calmer caregiver, and is totally content to sit quietly with you if that’s what you want.

She is AMAZING at helping out when you’re sad. It’s incredibly easy to talk to her about your problems, even if you usually struggle with that. She’s just a fantastic listener.

(She’s also a fantastic hugger.)

Sadness knows a lot about human psychology and can actually give a name to certain mental issues you might be experiencing, which for some people is incredibly helpful.

She frequently reminds you that whatever you feel is okay. Certain actions or responses to emotions may not be healthy, but the emotions themselves are alway okay to experience.

Fear

He is SUPER focused on your safety. There are plenty of dangers in the world, and he does NOT want his kiddo to experience any of them!

(But some dangers, obviously, you will experience - which is why he has a library’s worth of emergency plans prepared.)

As much as he fusses about your safety, he really tries not to be overbearing. He doesn’t want YOU to be afraid of things, just… mindful of danger.

He’s actually great at soothing any worries about monsters or other “imaginary” dangers - and he’s super understanding if they still make you nervous.

Fear is the best one to go to about nightmares; he fully listens if you want to describe them, and doesn’t press if you don’t.

Disgust

She’s great at standing up for you if you struggle to stand up for yourself. She finds it very easy to take charge and has no problem telling others you’re uncomfortable. “Hey, my kiddo doesn’t like strangers, so you can go ahead and back up.”

And if people aren’t willing to listen? Oh boy, she will rip them a new one. Disgust has insults for days and will leave anyone who messes with you in tears. Then she’ll lead you away and check that you’re alright in a more private location.

She makes sure you always have cool clothes and accessories for every occasion.

She is great at helping you hide your regression when you need to, giving you subtle reminders for behavior and keeping attention off you.

She’s not always good at helping if you just want to cry, but if you want actual reassurance? She is ON IT. She will go over every aspect of your appearance and personality, point out every wonderful trait you possess, and remind you that anyone who can’t see your awesomeness needs their eyes checked.

Anger

He radiates heat, and is wonderful to cuddle with. (Which he complains about a little but actually LOVES.)

He insists that people respect whatever age range you’re in at the moment. “You expect a preschooler to do this?! Come back when they’re older, buddy, we’re building a house right now.”

(He also gets huffy when people treat you too condescendingly for your age range. “Can it with the baby talk, they’re eight years old!”)

Anger will fight someone if they upset you. He will fight multiple someones. Anybody. Everybody. NO ONE gets away with upsetting you.

If you’re the kind of regressor who swears, he DEFINITELY encourages it. It cracks him up whenever you swear around the others and they look shocked.

[collectingsparechangemadeeasy1]

Bed Time Blues

HERE WE ARE AGAIN! I really struggled with writing this part ngl, had to write, and rewrite stuff a bajillion times. But! I’m pretty happy with how it came out! So I hope you enjoy! uwu

Ozpin sat alone in his room, shaky hands running through damp silver locks, he felt clammy and uncomfortable in his night clothes. He’d cast several light spells around the room, the glowing orbs casting a warm comforting light around the room. No longer did the dark green walls look inky black and confining, the pictures on the walls once more held precious and treasured memories, not shadowy ghouls and monsters. Maybe he’d take a late night bath, wash the sweat off him and warm up, and change into clothes that were dryer.

He yawned and stretched, but closing his eyes brought back visions of fires. Screaming. Oscar’s blood on his hands… Quickly he shook his head. “A nightmare. Only a nightmare… nothing more. Nothing more at all…”

Nightmares were nothing new to the man. They’d plagued him since he was a boy. Though… since adopting Oscar and building his cabin, they’d been far less frequent. Something he was deeply thankful for, even if it somehow meant the nightmares he did get felt much worse than the old ones.  More... real, more possible...

He had just swung his legs over the bed, and was about to put on the orange slippers Oscar had gotten him for his birthday last month, when there came a knock at the door. He tilted his head in curiosity and shuffled over. Opening it, the light from the orbs spilled into the hallway, and onto the face of his precious little son.

Ozpin couldn’t help the loving grin that overtook his face. His precious little boy, the light of his life. The thing that truly changed his life forever, and for the better. He was a blessing of the most wonderful kind. Finding him in the wreckage of that house was the best thing that ever happened to him, without a doubt.

He swiftly picked the boy up and brought him to the bed. Oscar was holding his sheep plushie in one hand, and the tail of his lion onesie in the other, he looked utterly adorable. Ozpin cuddled him up in his lap and rocked him quietly for a bit, rubbing his back in soothing circles and humming low. When Oscar appeared to still be awake, he looked down at the boy with a tender smile

“Are you going to tell me why you’re up so late my little junebug?” he asked gently, poking Oscar’s nose to make him giggle. Though the sweet noise only lasted a moment before it, and most of the joy in his little boy, seemed to get sapped out of him in an instant.

“I had a bad dream…” he murmured, hugging his sheep tighter, and pressing into Oz’s side more.

Seems to be going around tonight. He thought, pulling Oscar to his chest and kissing his hair. “Oh? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I-I was downstairs, and-and a monster came in and started chasing me! I tried to get to you, but I couldn’t! And you didn’t come when I called! I woke up just before the monster got me! I was so scared daddy!” the poor child promptly burst into tears, rivets of water cascading down his little freckled cheeks.

“Oh! Oh baby, it’s ok! It’s alright sweetheart!” he shushed, bouncing the little one in his arms and rubbing his back. “Shhh, shhh, it’s ok, it’s alright. Daddy’s here. Remember what I told you? No monsters can get in here, cause I’m scarier than all the monsters, so they don’t even set foot on the property!”

Oscar stared up at him with his huge two tone eyes, wet and shiny with tears. “N-no-ot dre-eam monster th-though!”

“Ah… no, sadly I can’t stop the dream monsters.” he sighed sadly. As much as I wish I could. “But what I can do is help you beat them!”

“B-beat them?” he sniffled, “H-how?”

Ozpin smiled and set Oscar on his knee so he could look at him better. “First, you need to know that dream monsters can’t ever hurt you. They’re only in your dreams, and you wake up before they ever touch you! Second, dream monsters are just your brain's way of telling you something. So let's look at the dream, you were running from a monster in the house, and you kept trying to call me, but  I didn’t answer. Right?”

“Uh-huh.” Oscar sniffled, looking at him curiously.

Ozpin nodded sagely, “So… you’re scared of me not being here for you when you need me! And the best way I can help rid you of these fears is to give you a promise.”

“A promise!?” the child gasped, making Oz need to stifle a laugh at his shock.

“Yes darling, a promise. I, Ozpin Azrael Pine, promise you, Oscar Avabelle Pine, that I will always be here when you need me, and will always protect you from the monsters.” he swore, holding a hand over his heart to show his dedication.

Oscar put his own tiny hand over Ozpin's and nodded with an adorably serious face. “I accept your promise daddy, and will hold you to it forever!”

“Good! Ah but… there is one monster I can’t always protect you from…” Ozpin sighed, looking sadly at Oscar. “He strikes at random, and can possess people! But I can at least assure you that this monster is harmless!”

Oscar held his sheep up a bit, “W-what monster?”

“Why, it’s the tickle monster of course!” he roared, snatching up the tot and blowing a raspberry on his little belly, making him squeal in delight.

“EEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH! DAAAHAHHAAHADDY! NOHOHOHOHO!” he shrieked, pushing at Ozpin's face.

“I’m sorry Oscar! I can’t stop him!” he cried in mock sorrow, blowing another raspberry on the toddlers belly, then pretending to eat him alive. “Nom nom nom! The tickle monster is hungry for giggles!”

“HEHEHEHEHEHEH! DADDYYYYYIHIHIHIH!” he squealed and shrieked, kicking his little legs.

Ozpin laughed and finally stopped, cuddling Oscar close. “Ooooooh! I love you so much! MMMMMMMUAH!” he emphasized as he kissed Oscars cheek.

Oscar giggled and squeaked, curling into his papa’s chest. “Hehehe! You’re silly!”

“I know, it’s one of my best qualities.” he grinned back, laying back on his bed with a content sigh. “Do you still want to stay here tonight?”

“Mhm!” Oscar beamed, ducking under the covers and snuggling right in.

Ozpin chuckled softly and doused a few of the light spells to dim the room. Then he tucked Oscar snuggly in the sheets, gave him another kiss good night and closed his eyes.

But unlike Oscar, he didn’t sleep. Oscar had the reassurance of his father to keep his nightmares and fears at bay. Ozpin didn’t… his own bad dreams would come again, as they always did. More fire. More screaming. More… He looked at Oscar. His sweet, innocent, loving son. The being in which his entire world revolved around.

“I’ll protect you Oscar… always.” he murmured, petting over the blankets and gently nuzzling his cheek.

Sleep didn’t come the rest of that night for Ozpin. And Qrow didn’t question why he found him later that day, curled up and hidden in between the hay bales, fitfully napping. He only got him a pillow and a thin sheet for a blanket, and left him to his own devices.

[tigerhidden]

damian. • bodyclaim. • headcanons. • isms. • memes. • thread tracker.

Is that JOSH SEGARRA? No, that’s DAMIAN JUAN SANCHEZ. The 35 year old SINGING MOON WERETIGER ALPHA MALE (HE/HIM)  is a RANCH WORKER (AKA COWBOY). If you ask their friends, they’re known to be CONFIDENT & DETERMINED, but beware, they’re also known to be AGGRESSIVE & CONVINCING. Can you believe they’re from THE PRESENT? Me either.

Born in Cuba, but raised very much in the United States, Damian grew up in Downtown Los Angeles as the older brother of two sisters and the pride and joy of a single mother who fled home to chase the dream in the US. As the kid in class whose English was questionable at best, Damian didn’t have the greatest time in elementary school, but as he grew older.. that would change. He worked odd jobs as early as he could to support his mother who worked part-time in three jobs while Damian was left at home to look after his sisters. They didn’t live far from his uncle who spent a lot of time at the Sanchez house to - as he called it, make sure Damian had a male role model to look up to. His mother never spoke about what they were, but they all knew they weren’t human. It was okay at home to show it, but outside of the safety of their own four walls, they were supposed to be human. Blend in. 

Damian didn’t remember his father, but he remembered the day he left… he remembered his mother crying and begging for him to stay, but he’d been too young to remember a face. It didn’t matter, though. They were doing fine without him. Their uncle wasn’t needed either, but their mother enjoyed another person helping out, so his presence was tolerated. Damian never liked others telling him what to do, least of all those who didn’t know anything about him, but when it came to family trying to meddle with theirs… he stood back, as his mother asked him to. So whenever holidays came up and they came to visit, Damian made sure to spend as little time home as possible so as to not clash with them. 

One could say Damian .. was a player in highschool and not just because he played football. The accent finally came in handy and he had girls practically chasing him and fighting for his attention and of course it helped that - due to his sisters worrying and struggling with appearance in school, that he, too, grew up obsessed with his appearance. He had to be perfect. For his mother, for his sisters, for himself. He worked before school, played football after school, went home to look after his sisters, worked out, homework into the night - if he felt like doing it - rinse repeat. Although… homework was skipped more often than not. School wasn’t his greatest interest by far. So Damian had girlfriends en masse, he never quite actually fell for any, but having a girlfriend was better than not having one, right? 

With time passing and trends changing, Damian became even more obsessed with his health, always eating right, working out between jobs and neglecting pretty much everything else. Every gram gained was .. troublesome, but he dealt with it accordingly. Damian dropped out of highschool when his girlfriend and future wife became pregnant. They moved out, got their own little flat in the city and Damian worked for two households now while still reminded every day that a man should provide for his family. Uncle had taken his job seriously to ensure Damian grew up a proper man. 

But Damian… wasn’t happy. Sure, he loved his child and he knew he had to take care of his family, but … he wasn’t happy. This wasn’t the life he wanted. Hell, it wasn’t even the wife he wanted. Yet he endured. His wife didn’t know his secret and he was glad to find out his child was born human. Utterly human.

Twelve years later… 

Frustration was threatening to take over, his life an endless cycle of work and work-out and self-hatred, which was when Damian began to drink. First at home, but the kid and wife didn’t exactly make that a possibility, so he went out. Bars. First to get away from home, then to drink. He switched bars every night so nobody he knew would see him, which … left him with limited options unless he wanted to drive. One night, he found himself at a gay bar, which - given that he only came to drink, didn’t really matter. That was until someone bought him a drink. Hm. It was a fancy one, too. That’d mark the beginning of a new life. 

The attention Damian drew to himself when in the clubs or bars didn’t go unnoticed, so after a few free beers, he found himself with company. A very interested woman made him a proposition. Work for me and you’ll never want for anything again. The idea was simple enough - if .. evil. Damian was to mark himself available, revel in the attention especially older gay guys gave him, give them time of his day and once he got access to their money… he was gone. It started harmless, a few hundreds here and there, but his associate grew more ambitious with every passing day. 

Soon Damian would be courting men for weeks, or longer until he got his hands on their bank accounts to plunder every penny they owned. Or take whatever treasures they had hidden away elsewhere. Once he got some money, Damian filed for divorce and got himself a new place to live. Then, a car. His most precious possession. But after that … his money income stagnated, his associate growing greedier over the years, demanding more. Which was around the time she caught whiff of a huge sum just waiting to be … well, whisked away. Damian was sent to flirt his way into another man’s life, which… ended up his greatest challenge yet, especially because the guy was like him - in hiding, too, but not human and very much an Alpha. For the first time since he started his career as a grifter, Damian felt for the guy he was going to rob. Denial was his best friend, no matter how shitty he felt - the money was the only thing that mattered. He had rent to pay and gas, too. 

He didn’t know at the time that his life would - once again change once he fled with those fifty thousand dollars that’d been diligently saved up over years, because for once … the man went to the police. Usually they didn’t. The embarrassment was too stifling. This one really wanted his money back, it seemed and sent an army on his tracks before bolting. Well. Damian and his partner went on a merry chase across the continent for revenge, but the only thing Damian found on that journey was … that he’d truly developed feelings for the man over the past six months he’d spent with him. Was he gay? Was he broken? Well, that - and that his partner had taken much more of the money Damian earned while sending him out to fuck guys up for more and giving him scraps. He was not a whore. He didn’t sleep with the guys he stole from. 

Damian tried to apologize, returned most of the money he’d stolen - ditched his blackmailing piece of shit of a partner, but it ..was to no avail. One near-death experience later, he knew he wouldn’t find happiness in the world his lost love lived in, so he went to the place he’d heard so much about by the same guy. Maybe he could be close to him that way? Maybe one day he’d come to his senses and believe Damian when he said he was sorry. Maybe. The police sure as shit didn’t stop, though - so when Damian made it to New Haven … he felt safe. He’d been on the run for over a year, always ducking away from every police car he saw, wondering when they’d kick down his door. No more. 

He didn’t know yet what exactly he planned to do in New Haven, didn’t know what life had in store for him after all this, but he knew he’d have a chance at a new life. And maybe he would figure out why he felt so drawn to Alphas.

[lavienbleuuu]

How to Embrace the Joy of Missing Out and Live Slowly?

Dimulai dari percakapan sederhana yang kemudian mengingatkanku akan sebuah peristiwa. “Sepertinya, lebih seru kalau kita melakukan banyak hal yang kita rencanakan sendiri. Kita tidak sedang melihat orang lain atau mengunjungi tempat tertentu karena orang lain atau apapun itu. Kita bahagia dengan cara-cara tak terduga yang kita temukan dan buat sendiri.”

***

“I’m 34 years old now, and I haven’t achieved anything yet…” she said over a coffee chat. I accidentally met her when I was sitting alone in a coffee shop.

“So what? You have a lot of time. You can still do anything you want to do.” — I replied.

“No there’s no time! Nowadays teenagers are making more than I am making at this point. At this age, people are already settled in their careers, buying their houses, car and traveling the world.

Look at me! Still struggling with my career. House and car are nothing but an impossible dream for me. And traveling is out of the question.”

With teary eyes she said.

She left after a coffee but my mind stayed on the same topic.

And it got me thinking…

Who decided on this definition of success? Why do you have to own a house, or car and travel the world to show the world that you’re successful?

Why can’t you live in a rented apartment, use public transport and enjoy staying at home in pajamas and still be successful?

Why materialistic possessions and desires are the metrics to measure mental success like peace, happiness, and contentment?

I’ve seen countless people in my surrounding struggling to prove that they’re making good money and living a good life. When will people understand — To live a good life, you don’t need to make good money!

No, I’m not saying money is not important. It is! Money is the fuel that you need to drive your life. But what’s the point of having that fuel if you’re using it only to show people how pretty your life car is?

I mean you’re not enjoying the ride anyway. You’re just stalking people with that money fuel to show off. Such a waste of money, time, and effort.

And here’s the reality check for you!

This life car you’re so proud of is also a rented one. Once your life lease is over, you gotta hand over it no matter how pretty, or beautiful it is. And also it doesn’t matter how much money fuel you’ve in your bank. You’ll just have to let go of all of that.

So why not enjoy the ride while your lease is still up?

Also not to mention, the biggest mistake people make is thinking that their life car runs only on money fuel.

What about time fuel? You can still push your life car with no money fuel left. But without time fuel? Naha! You can only use your life car and money fuel until you have got the time fuel in stock. Once the stock is finished so is your life lease, life car, and money fuel.

And what people are doing? They are using this super precious and priceless time fuel to chase money fuel! Simply genius!!

And I don’t want you to do this mistake. Because I care for you and I genuinely wish you have a beautiful life car with an abundance of money fuel so you can enjoy the ride as you wish and dream of. But not at the expense of limited and super precious time fuel you have.

And how can you do this?

Kick-off FOMO and Embrace JOMO!

In short, stop living in the fear of missing out and start living in the joy of missing out.

You must have heard this right? — Change your perspective to change your life.

That’s what we are gonna do now!

Embrace the joy of missing out and consciously choose to focus on what brings you actual joy.

Instead of letting society define the definition of your success, happiness, and contentment; you create your definition of success, happiness, and contentment.

How?

Let me tell you how!

1. Prioritize Your Time Fuel

Your only priority should be savoring and saving your time fuel. Because your time is non-refillable, non-refundable, and non-returnable. So spend it, use it, and invest it wisely.

Do things that truly make you happy. There’s no time to waste in doing things that don’t give you happiness. Remember, your ultimate purpose in this life is to be HAPPY! And if you’re not by any means, you’re just wasting this golden ticket a.k.a life.

2. Define Your Own Success

Forget what society tells you. Nobody is thinking about you. Everybody’s busy thinking about what you’re thinking about them. Just like you’re busy thinking about what people will think about you. Break free from this cycle.

Don’t seek out external validation. Instead, seek internal satisfaction. Choose your success. Fulfill your dreams. Find your inner peace. Love passionately. Live purposefully. Die peacefully.

3. Limit Social Media Consumption

Trust me when I say this, social media is a rabbit hole. But not the kind of one from the story of Alice in Wonderland. It’s more like Alice in Worstland.

Once you fall into it, there’s no way back. You’re gonna be fighting with self-doubt, jealousy, procrastination, laziness, and imposter syndrome for the rest of your life. Until and unless you’re smart enough to find the way out. So set the boundaries before it’s too late.

I’m not saying quit being on social media. But quit doubting your abilities, comparing your life with others, drooling over others’ success, and wasting your precious time fuel.

4. Practice Gratitude

This simple practice has turned out to be the most life-changing one for me. Every morning when I wake up, I express my gratitude for one thing.

Every night when I wake up, I recall one best thing happened during the day and express my gratitude for it. The best way to bookend your day. Start with a happy note and end it with contentment.

For example,

Yesterday when I woke up and saw a message from my friend, I expressed my gratitude to the universe for giving me such a sweet friend.

And when I went to bed to sleep, I recalled my day and realized the best thing that happened that day was a butterfly sat on my shoulder. I smiled and expressed my gratitude for giving me such a beautiful moment to live.

You don’t need big achievements, big checks, or a big friend circle to be happy.

If you look around yourself, you’ll find infinite things you can be grateful for. As simple as getting fresh water to drink. Because there are people in the corner of the world who are not even fortunate enough to have a glass of clean water to drink.

So while reaching for the stars, don’t forget to take a moment to embrace the beauty of a flower blossoming on the ground at your feet.

5. Be Present and Mindful

There’s a proverb — While drinking a tea, drink tea. It simply means, be present. Whatever you’re doing, engage fully. Then be it brushing your teeth or brushing the hair of your child. Everything matters. And so be conscious and mindful with each activity. Romanticize little things. And you’ll fall in love with life!

6. Learn to Say No

It’s okay to say no! Stop making it a huge deal. If you don’t want to do something or don’t want to go somewhere, just say so. Stop finding excuses to save your face. Instead, be bold and say the truth.

“I don’t want to go to a party this weekend, because I’m tired and I need some time to rest.” That’s it! You don’t have to make your mom sick or send your cousin to some another country. Stop with the excuses. It’s ok to say no! It’s your life!!

7. Focus on Your Well-Being

Prioritize yourself! Stop treating yourself as a side character in your own movie. It’s your movie and you are the hero here. But are you living like a main character? Don’t say yes, if you’re not making your mental, physical, and emotional health your priority.

Make time for yourself. Take care of yourself. Pamper yourself. Love yourself. Because you deserve it. And if you don’t, why others will? Remember, people treat you the way you treat yourself.

In the end, leaving you with this poor wordplay.

Life is not a race, don’t get lost in this maze. Don’t make haste, say cheese, and live life the best. Remember you deserve only the best, let go of the rest!

[thequeenofthewinter]

Handling Self-Doubt

This post has been a long time in the making as I, myself, have been navigating how I deal with my own self-doubt when it comes to writing...and if I am honest with you, I've really been feeling it lately.

There is a whole world of writing with many different subjects, styles, and characters, and this, my friends, is a beautiful thing. At the same time, it is also easy to get lost in comparing oneself to others which in turn leads to--you guessed it--the dreaded self-doubt.

I'd like to be able to tell you to just ignore it and NOT feel this doubt because your writing is fantastic, amazing, and brilliant. However, let's be real. Most of us creatives (if not all of us) feel self-doubt at one time or another. It is important for us to find a strategy and a manner in which to deal with these feelings and not just let those nasty self-doubt demons get to you.

I can't promise that what I do or what works for me will work for everyone. I can only speak from my own experience. I am also not a professional writer, and I don't pretend to know everything. I am still learning and growing as a writer too. Please feel free to add your own strategies in the notes.

Ask yourself why you are feeling that self-doubt. Have you been "rushing" your work? Are you burnt out and need a break? Are you not in a good headspace? (Taking a break is NORMAL.)

Are you comparing yourself to someone else? Do you feel that your writing is not worth being read or someone else does it better? Keep one thing in mind: Your writing is valid. ALWAYS. And yes, there will be people who write differently from you. That doesn't mean your writing is bad. It just means that the other author has a different style, they are in a different genre, and/or they have a different perspective. Your writing doesn't have to be like anyone else's. In addition to this, you don't know how long this person has been writing. Writing takes practice and everyone develops at a different pace. There is nothing wrong with that.

Related to number 2, arm yourself with tools. If you feel that your writing needs improvement, that is okay! We can always improve. (But also don't chase perfection. It doesn't exist.) Look up some writing tips to help you improve (but don't take tips as law, guys. They’re not always right.)

Join a community and/or talk to other writers. This has really helped me. Talking with other people who have had the same struggles as you and can share their experiences is a big help in letting you know that you are not alone. They can also help you by giving feedback, ideas, or just a space to vent.

Remember why you write. Most of us write because we love what we do, and it brings us joy. It is amazing to be able to share our writing with the world and to know that others love it. However, if no one else does, that's fine. You are writing a story because you enjoy it. That's the most important thing.

My inbox is always open to talk. If you don’t have any writer friends, I’ll be your friend. <3

Happy writing all!

[bloomyagi]

beautiful, beloved, mine (m)

summary: you set him ablaze. he can only hope you like watching him burn for you. alternatively: this love for you is consuming him, and it all comes out in a badly vomited confession after he corners you at a gala.

pairings: shouto todoroki x f!reader

genre: pro heroes au, characters are aged up 20+

warnings: smut, dry humping, shouto comes in his pants, sub!shouto, he’s a good boi for you, he loves you very much n wants to be your baby

length: 2,447

notes: can u tell how much i love him pls -

.

.

.

“Can I be yours?”

Shouto Todoroki, ranked third pro-hero in Japan, has his strong arms braced around your head. In all your years of friendship, he has never been anything but exceedingly polite. He is well-behaved, thoughtful and sharp. He is guarded, though not intentionally, not anymore—it is reflex, a shield he has never really learned to lower. A reminder of his childhood.

You think he’s drunk. He must be, beautiful dual-coloured locks dishevelled, black button-up half-open and exposing his gorgeous collarbone. You watch, unwittingly, as a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, biceps flexing.

The dimmed lighting unfairly accosts you with his devastatingly handsome features and muscular body. And his eyes. His heterochromatic eyes are alight with something fierce and intense. They are also clear, glowing, almost, in the dark.

The two of you are somehow on the balcony, shut away from the rest of the world, the bass and the sounds of life fading in your little bubble until all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, the warmth of his breath, the heat of skin and the fluttering of your heart in your throat. The cement wall digs into your back.

No, you correct yourself. He isn’t drunk. He’s barely tipsy. He doesn’t like to drink, rarely acquiesces to Kirishima’s insistence of shots.

He doesn’t smell like alcohol. His scent has always been calming, detectable under the thin layer expensive cologne he uses—he doesn’t like perfumed smells either, only uses it on nights like these, when he’s obliged to look the part—that fresh, cool scent. Of clean sheets, laundry detergent.

Still, this is out of character. Todoroki has never once crossed a line with you, with anyone. He’s quiet, reserved, though he smiles more now, the forming dimples in the corner of his eyes a living testament to his character growth. He treats others fairly. He is not unkind, honest and straight-forward. He is many things, and with the way he’s gazing down at you now, you are suddenly reminded of Midoriya’s hushed remarks earlier.

“You can’t see it, but Todoroki-kun treats you differently. He thinks about you, what you’d like and what you like. He cares about you so he’s careful around you. He wants to cherish you. He’s cold because he uncertain. He doesn’t know what to do. This is all new to him.”

“What is?”

The number one pro-hero had looked at you strangely. “Being in love.”

Midoriya is indisputably Todoroki’s best friend. Still, his actions are baffling. Why you? Why now? No, you couldn’t see it at all.

“Todoroki, are you drunk?”

“No. Though I required a little … liquid courage, as they say,” he rasps. He’s so close. His voice, so deep and husky, has you biting your lower lip. His gaze falls immediately.

He doesn’t touch you. The way his arms flex, hands clenching and unclenching, and his stiff posture tells you he wants to. He’s visibly restraining himself. Waiting, watching. Hoping.

“You never … why me?” You say softly.

“I could not. I wanted to, so badly. I have always wanted you. I always thought it was impossible for someone like me—to find someone I would want to share my life with, given my upbringing and dysfunctional family. But then things changed, got better, and then I met you.” He takes a shaky breath.

“I found wordless comfort in your mere presence. I found I could be emboldened, empowered, changed by your words. Every day I wondered how I could be worthy of you—if I could ever be worthy of you. Then I realized it was you … it would not matter to you, so long as I was honest with who I was. That is just the kind of person you are …” He shuts his eyes. His lashes are so long, you note absently.

“I am touched by your existence … I find joy in your spirit, yearning for your embrace, for the heat of your skin pressed against mine, I crave it … these foreign desires, they elicit something dark within myself,” he continues, breathing a little ragged now.

“This need, this desperation, like fire spreading in my veins, uncontrollable and hungry … I feel restless, itching for something, someone … Now I finally understand. I feel like I want to—to devour you. It is no longer enough, seeing you as I do, being as we are, mere friends … I want more, need more. With this desire to monopolize, I fear I have become … insatiable,” he trails off, turning his face to the side in shame.

Oh. Shouto Todoroki is in love with you, you realize with a jolt. He longs for you. For your companionship, your wit, your soul and your body. Your heart.

You reach up with a trembling hand to touch his jaw, guiding him until he looked at you once more. He doesn’t resist, pliant and eager as he leans into your hold.

“Only if I can be yours in return,” you say.

He lurches forward, knees nearly giving out as he slumps in your arms. “Oh, thank god, I … I was anxious I would have ruined everything. I knew it was unlikely they would be reciprocated, but I—I had to try,” he gasps. “This desire, it was consuming me.”

“Todoroki …” You thumb his cheekbone. He sighs faintly, body curving over yours as he presses close. “Call me Shouto, please …”

“Shouto.” He makes a strangled noise.

“Again. Please. You must understand, I have longed for this for so long …” He pleads shyly.

“Shouto,” you whisper, stroking his cheek. He’s so unexpectedly adorable. So, so adorable.

“My apologies, darling. I know I’m taking liberties, but I’m weak … I’m not strong enough to resist such temptation. Not while you are here, in front of me like nights when I dared to dream… So beautiful.” He nuzzles your palm.

You flush at his term of endearment, at the rawness of his tone. He has laid himself bare, singing his truth like a Shakespeare sonnet.

“You woo me like you’re waxing poetry … does this often work with others?” You murmur. You think you’re in real danger of melting.

His eyes fly open in alarm. “No. Never. It has only ever been you. I speak only from the heart, I have never—never done this before, am I explaining myself poorly? I am often told my words could use some more tact …”

Your heart swells.

“I’m just teasing, Shouto,” you say softly, combing a hand through his locks apologetically. “Your words are beautiful, I’m touched, truly.”

He relaxes, curling closer in your embrace.

“You don’t know … how I dream of building a home with you, of sharing all my firsts with you, cooking and setting the table with you … breakfast after long nights, filling the space between us with laughter and joy. Sleeping next to you,” he slurs. And then he goes on plainly, “How I fist myself every night thinking of the swell of your hips, the curl of your lips, your sweet, enthralling scent …”

You inhale sharply. Part of you is entirely taken back by the dual-haired hero’s use of uncharacteristically vulgar descriptions. His words drip over you like a honeyed aphrodisiac. Sweet and addictive.

“May I?” He draws closer, hands releasing you to brace against the concrete behind. Your body shivers involuntarily, missing the heat of his palms immediately.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Shouto dips his head, beautiful heterochromatic eyes watching you carefully for any sign of hesitation or indication you wanted to stop. Ever the gentleman.

This is who he is, you realize. Respectful of your boundaries, honest and, with you, gentle. He eyes flutter close when his lips touch yours. They’re warm, sweet with a hint of the alcohol he consumed earlier. Your fingers bury themselves in his locks, the kiss unhurried, savouring each moment.

Then you open your mouth, tongue touching his. And Shouto falters. He groans throatily, your nose tickling at the scent of ash. Ah. He’s losing control. He jerks away quickly, right hand enclosing over his left.

“Don’t tempt me,” he rasps, blush rising.

You snag the rumpled collar of his shirt, pulling him close. “Kiss me again.”

And when you guide his hands over your hips, he grips them tightly and crushes his mouth against yours, kissing you hard. Spit runs down your chins, messy and sensual.

Something hard presses against your inner thigh. You push his legs apart and shove your leg in between. He chokes, eyes rolling back.

“Ngh—!” He gasps. “More—hngg—please!”

You pull back to survey him. He chases after you, lips slick and swollen.

“Shouto. You like this?”

He pauses, sucking in a breath sharply, eyes flickering. And then—

“Yes,” he whispers, a whisp of flame flaring on his left.

Your core clenches over nothing at his needy, humiliated tone.

“I like this too,” you confess, trailing a hand over the ridges of his abdomen, fascinated by the way the muscles clench.

Shouto mewls, chest thrusting forward when you pinch his nipples experimentally through the cotton. “Ah—ughh—yes!”

“Can you come like this?” You wonder absently as you twist his perked nubs harshly. He moans brokenly, hips jerking.

“I—I d-don’t­—kno—hah,” he pants, eyes half-lidded as he struggles to focus. Pleasure clouds his senses, head fuzzy and vision hazy.

“Can you get off here, like this?” You ask softly. “I want to see you come undone.”

Shouto blinks blearily at you, nodding eagerly. “Hng—yes, wanna be good for you,” he slurs. Oh. My. If you weren’t dripping before, you certainly are now.

He stumbles a little as you push him against the wall, switching positions. He’s barely standing at this point, leaning heavily against the cement as he gazes up at you with glazed eyes. He looks utterly fucked out and utterly delectable.

You undo the remainder of his buttons, holding him back firmly when he whines, pawing at the fabric, wanting to rip it off.

“We still have to walk out of here,” you remind him, giggling. His only blinks at you blankly as if to say and? Too gone to think of the consequences.

“This view is reserved for my eyes only,” you murmur, nails scraping against his nipples. He gasps, back arcing. “Yes, yes!” He agrees mindlessly.

He grinds against your thigh desperately, the weight of his cock heavy and hot. He throbs at every touch.

“Kiss—kiss, please,” he whines, reaching for you. You oblige, internally fawning over his cuteness.

His hips move faster, chasing release as he moans and keens into your mouth.

He parts from you with a gasp and wet shlick. “Feels so good—sho good—hngg,” he babbles. His asymmetric temperatures intensify, the heat of his left searing you and the chill of the right piercing you.

“Oh—I’m—I’m c-cu—” he cries out, gripping you tightly as he fucks himself against your thigh urgently. You push your leg against him harder, nails digging into his stomach.

“Come for me Sho,” you murmur, biting his lower lip. His mouth parts in a silent wail, head tossing as his eyes roll. His body shudders, something warm seeping into the fabric of your jeans.

With a strangled groan, he sags against you, exhausted and spent. You stroke his hair soothingly, brushing back the sweaty locks and peppering chaste kisses over his face as he comes down slowly.

Faintly, you register someone calling your name.

“Oh, Midoriya. Over here.”

Shouto is too out of it, still coming down from his high, his soft moans tickling your ear

“Oh, there you are! Have you seen Todoroki-kun? I—oh!” He squeaks loudly, spinning on his heel immediately and covering his reddening face.

What a sight the two of you must be. A perfectly debauched Shouto, shirt falling over his broad shoulders, the fabric clinging to his glistening skin, raised lines over his bare chest that appear angrier in the darkened lighting, slumped over you, body trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

The One for All user pales when he spots the noticeable burn the size of a palm on the wall behind your head.

“Uh—neverminditwasn’timportanthahahaohsomeone’scallingmegottagobye!” Midoriya practically screams in your face before bolting from the scene in the next beat.

Shouto manages a tired chuckle as you blink in the wake of his dust.

“You’re surprisingly shameless,” you remark when you turn back to him.

His wry smile slips, letting out a weak mewl when you squeeze his cock over his slacks teasingly. He’s already chubbing up, hips rolling slowly against your touch.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m insatiable when it comes to you, darling,” he murmurs, cheeks dusting.

“Then let’s continue,” you say, helping him stand. He valiantly tries to salvage whatever is left of his shirt, but it’s hopeless. He gives up, letting it drift apart, sculpted abdomen and chest in full view.

“Hmm. I quite like this view,” your palm rests on his stomach, smiling when he jolts at your warmth.

“My place or yours?” He breathes, pulling you flush to him.

“Yours, I think. I’ve been meaning to try out your new jacuzzi,” you rest your cheek against his chest, tracing nonsensical patterns on his pec. Goosebumps rise on his skin, and you can hear the rapid fluttering of his pulse. He’s—nervous?

“I built it for you,” he confesses, burying his face into your hair. “After you mentioned how much you wanted to try one, I thought—well, I don’t know what I thought. I only know that I went out the next day to hire a contractor and expand my bathroom. I suppose part of me nurtured a hope I’d one day pluck enough courage to ask you to come over and give it a try …”

You pull away, looking up at him in disbelief. He laughs dryly at your expression.

“Yes. I know. It sounds as irrational as it felt. I still haven’t used it yet.”

“Then …,” you hesitate. And then you say shyly, “Then if you’d like … we could try it today? Together?”

“I … yes, I’d love that,” Shouto swallows thickly.

You take his hand as the two of you start to make your way back. He squeezes your hand once.

“Let’s go home,” you say softly. The corner of his heterochromatic eyes crinkle, lips curling into a gentle beam. He looks radiant, beauty amplified by his dishevelled and unkept state. He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Yes,” he says. “Let’s.”

[3rdgymbros]

— title; i will love you if i never see you again.

— pairing; diluc ragnvindr x ancestor! reader (platonic)

— summary; in which you’re diluc’s ancestor, and it’s after saving him that you realise that he bears a striking resemblance to your former lover, and you ache.  

— notes; the red-haired warrior referenced in the fic has no official name, so i made one up !! this is also dedicated to @starfell-traveler​ for helping me in co-op !!

“Who are you?”

You know that voice. It sends shivers down your spine and sets your heart racing, fills you with hope you haven’t felt in a decade. You know it’s impossible, but you would recognize that voice anywhere.

The man slumped against the wall is pale, so pale, that the blood painting his side seems so violently red in comparison. The man has your lover’s face, as well as his voice, the same vibrant eyes and round cheeks and full mouth. The same tall, reedy frame. The same untamable mess of scarlet hair that he used to let you braid, woven with fragrant white Cecilias.

You want to cry out, to run to him, but you understand that it isn’t him. You know this. You held his hand as you watched the life leave his eyes.

The world had known him as the Red-Haired Warrior, and so had he been immortalized in stories and songs, but to you, he had simply been Luc. Your Luc, with his flaming red hair, and his warm, easy smile, with small crinkle lines around the blue eyes that you had fancifully likened to sapphires.

He holds onto your arm as the two of you weave a path through the evening crowd, filled with those going home after work or possibly seeking nighttime entertainment. Luc tells you that you look beautiful, and the two of you talk of inconsequential things: the weather, gossip, day-to-day affairs . . .

Luc takes you to a secluded spot, just outside the walls of Mond. There’s a thick woolen blanket spread out on the grass, with a wicker basket on top and a lantern to keep it from blowing away in the wind. You stretch out next to the lantern and lie down on your back, staring up at the black velvet sky above, studded with thousands of diamonds. There’s a chill in the air, but it’s just enough to dull an otherwise warm evening. Luc settles down next to you, closer than you think he would if the two of you were anywhere else. A strange, yet warm peace blossoms within your chest, the most beautiful flower.

An amused smile quirks up your lips. “I have questions.”

“That’s fair.” Luc says, revealing the contents of the picnic basket for your approval. A bouquet of flowers, a bottle of dandelion wine, two long-stemmed glasses, a small chocolate cake, still warm from the oven, and two forks.

There’s a prickle over your skin, the smallest energy change as the wind picks up speed, chafing your cheeks and your hair. “Why is Barbatos hiding behind a bush?”

“Moral support.” Luc spits out the words almost like a curse, and his tone implies that if he could, he would be chasing the Archon off into the wilderness.

You have to muffle your laughter with the back of your hand. “Next question. Why are there flowers?”

“They’re – They’re Cecilias. They grow only on Starsnatch Cliffs. And they’re for you.”

“Why would you go all the way to Starsnatch Cliffs just for flowers?” Your chest cramps at the thought of Luc getting hurt. You know he’s more than capable of protecting himself, but human lives are so fragile, so easily snuffed out. The Bard had been proof enough. And even the Gods themselves had been unable to bring him back. “That was so dangerous, you could have gotten hurt!”

“They’re for you,” Luc repeats, his cheeks reddening in the flickering lantern light. “And – I was hoping – I want to – I want to court you. If you’ll allow it.”

Oh.

Your heart clenches, and your eyes sting as a thousand different emotions hit you in a tidal wave, overpowering the fear, the uncertainty. It’s a mixture of emotions you recognize, but haven’t felt in a very long time. And this is stronger. It feels real. It’s palatable; it tastes like salt, like tears left in the cold. It’s warm too, as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug, pressing your entire body to his.

“Okay. Yes.” The hope, the joy, bubbles out of you in a bright rash of laughter. “You can court me.”

And Luc’s answering smile had been dazzling.

You bring yourself back to the present with an effort, your eyes losing their dream-like haze. The sense of security and warmth vanishes with the last vestiges of the dream; when you blink, there are Abyss Mages in front of you, and an injured boy at your back. The pages of your Catalyst unfurl, glowing with a silvery light. It’s a beautiful book, aqua-coloured, lined with gold and decorated with pure-white feathers.

Your back straightens, your hands fisting at your sides. “Back off. Last warning.”

You’re rewarded with a laugh, sliding over you like shards of glass. And that’s answer enough, really. You haven’t fought in centuries, but your body remembers what your mind has forgotten, and it eases back into the most beautiful, deadly dance. Water pours out from your fingertips, bending to your every command, wreaking blood and pain with each blow.

You’re vaguely reminded of your early days, when the rebellion had reached its brutal peak. When you had fought alongside your allies, watched as they had struggled and bled and triumphed.

You don’t stop, not until the last Abyss Mage has crumbled into ash, blown away on the wind.

“Who are you?”

The man asks again, as you tuck your Catalyst away, into the pouch upon your hip, and set to treating his wounds. The contact tenses his frame like a bow stretched taut enough to break. But he allows you to continue your ministrations as you labor over him. It’s rudimentary treatment at best, strips of your shirt torn apart and used as makeshift bandages. The white strips bloom instantly with red, and your forehead pleats with worry.

This isn’t good.

You lift your head up to stare at him, searching his face. Now that you and him are put together, side by side, you can see that there are definite similarities. It's not in the shape of the mouth but the set of it, the sheer determination that silvers both your eyes. Your blood flows through his veins, after all. You wonder if he can see it too, the resemblance hitting you like a well-placed knife to the gut.

“Why did you save me?” Your descendant asks, and for the first time since you’ve met him, he sounds vulnerable. Unsure.

Your smile is fragile, and your eyes are soft. “You just – Reminded me of someone. That’s all.”

[myaimistrue]

part two of the fic for my content creator celebration! in this one, cas uses bobby’s story to take care of five year old jack <3 

read part one here (you probably wanna read that first if you haven’t)

read the whole thing on ao3 here

Cas always pays close attention to his son. Jack is at the age where he wants to get into everything, where the whole world feels like it belongs to him and him alone (a common phase for children that seems to have only been exacerbated by Jack’s brief stint as God), so he spends a lot of time exploring their backyard and asking questions and pushing boundaries. Cas understands all of this—he’s read about it in many parenting books—and is always careful to keep an eye on Jack. So he is watching Jack play with legos on the back porch through the window, and he is perfectly able to see the precise moment Jack jumps to his feet to chase a butterfly into the yard, exactly how he goes tumbling down the porch steps without anything there to stop him.

“Daddy!” Jack is already wailing by the time Cas scoops him up in his arms, frantically searching his son for injuries. His knees are bleeding, and his little hands have gone raw at the bottom of the palms; Cas’s stomach twists at the sight of his son’s blood. “It hurts.”

“I know, honey, I know,” Cas says, carrying Jack into the house as quickly as he can. Realistically, he knows that though Jack has been hurt far worse in his life and that this kind of injury is typical for young children anyway, but some instinct within him cries out in fear and worry at the sound of Jack’s sobs.

Cas sits him down in one of the kitchen table chairs and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Stay right here, okay, Jack? I’m going to get something that’ll make you feel better.”

Jack only cries harder, so Cas moves quickly, digging out their first aid kit from the mess that is the pantry and laying it on the table. He mops up the worst of the blood before pulling out a small tube of antibiotic cream.

“This might hurt,” Cas says gently. “But I’ll be quick.”

“No,” Jack sobs. “No, don’t do it if it’s gonna hurt!”

Again, Cas’s heart twinges. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

That only seems to make it worse, and Jack’s crying reaches a fever pitch. Cas feels frantic panic rise up in him—Dean has always been better at this part, has always known how to soothe, how to turn Jack’s tears into laughter into just minutes. Cas wishes desperately that Dean would get back from the store, but it twists uncomfortably in his gut to picture what he’ll find: a hurt, crying child and a husband still too inhuman to know how to comfort anybody. Even at his gruffest, Dean naturally knows how to take care of the people he loves, something Cas still struggles with; he always makes Cas think of Bobby, the rough gentleness he would have about him as he patched Cas up and poured him a glass of terrible whisky.

And then Cas knows exactly what to do.

“Jack, how about this?” He says. “If you try to take a few deep breaths, I’m going to give you permission to do something me and Dee never let you do.”

Jack’s sobbing slows slightly. “W—what?”

“Take a deep breath with me, and I’ll tell you.” Cas inhales, long and slow, and Jack does the same, still sniffling and hiccupping as his crying slows to almost a complete stop.

“Good job, Jack.” Cas smiles fondly and smooths some of his son’s hair back from his forehead. “Now, I’m going to get you cleaned up and put some band-aids on. It’ll hurt. But,” Cas grins in spite of himself. “But, while I’m doing that, you’re allowed to say bad words.”

“Really?” Jack’s eyes go almost comically wide. He always wants to curse—it’s a holdover, Cas thinks, from his time as a sort-of-adult—and Dean and Cas have had to have many conversations with him about appropriate language for little children. “I can? You won’t tell Dee?”

“It’ll be our secret,” Cas says, winking. Jack giggles.

He starts dabbing the antibiotic cream on the cuts before there can be any more discussion, hoping that will be the best way to handle it. Jack’s face screws up in discomfort, and with the utmost conviction, he says, “Dammit, Daddy!”

Cas is almost surprised by the fullness and joyfulness of the laugh that punches out of him at that. He loves his son so much it hurts, a pleasant ache behind his ribs. “Exactly, Jack. Just like that.”

It doesn’t take long to patch him up, after that. Jack takes delight in cursing, going as far as a single “fuck” that sets him off into hysterical giggles. By the time Cas is done, Jack is smiling brightly and swinging his legs back and forth.

“Can I go back to my legos, Daddy?” he asks excitedly, all the tears and pain apparently forgotten. “I didn’t get to finish with my town. They’re having a talent show ‘n I gotta make sure it goes good.”

“Stay on the porch where I can see you from the window,” Cas says as he repacks the first aid kit. “And dinner will be ready soon.”

“Okay!” Jack hops down off the chair and zooms away, tossing a “Hi, Dee!” over his shoulder as he heads outside.

Cas glances at the doorway, and sure enough, Dean’s hulking an absurd amount of grocery bags into the kitchen. He dumps them all into a heap on the table and grins triumphantly at Cas.

“You know you could just ask for help,” Cas says, exasperated.

“It’s a matter of pride, sweetheart.” Dean presses an obnoxious, smacking kiss to Cas’s cheek, and Cas rolls his eyes but smiles anyway as he returns the first aid kit to its proper place.

“Woah, everybody alright?” Dean asks, eyes catching on the white and red case Donna bought them as a housewarming gift (“former angel, hunter, and God, or not, everybody needs a first aid kit!”)

“Jack fell down the back stairs earlier. He skinned his hands and knees,” Cas says. He looks at Dean, then folds himself into his arms—he wants to feel Dean’s steady warmth, and he can now if he wants; it’s been a while, but Cas isn’t sure he’ll ever get over the wonder of having Dean as his husband. “He was crying, but I managed to distract him enough to get him patched up.”

Dean hums as he runs a hand up and down Cas’s back. “Yeah? What’d you do?”

“Something Bobby taught me,” Cas says. He thinks of that night by Dean’s bedside, of the quiet hush in which Cas felt so much younger, somehow, than Bobby sitting beside him.

“Bobby?” Dean’s voice has gone heavy, the way it often does when talking about someone they grieve. “What was it?”

Cas smiles to himself. “I told Jack he could say any swear words he wanted.”

Dean starts to laugh, and Cas feels the vibrations of it through the entirety of his body. He thinks that if he still had his grace, he would feel it singing in joy at the sensation. “Oh, Jesus. I forgot about that.”

“Me too. But then Jack was so upset, and I couldn’t get him to calm down, and I remembered Bobby telling me that story.” Cas pulls back but tangles their hands together, because he always wants to be touching Dean. He glances to make sure Jack is still safely playing on the porch, then back at Dean. “It feels like so long ago.”

“It was,” Dean says. He squeezes Cas’s hand, and he looks a little sad, thinking about Bobby. But around that, there’s a comfortableness, a contentedness, that Cas has only recently seen in Dean’s eyes; it makes him smile. “Never woulda guessed back then that we’d have a kid of our own.”

“Me neither.” Without intending to, they both pivot to look at Jack, at his solemn focus as he rebuilds a lego tower. That feeling of home, of safety and warmth, suffuses Cas from head to toe. It occurs to him that the first time he ever felt that was in Bobby’s house, watching the boys goof around and laughing at them with Bobby. Cas thinks of him, wherever he is, with Karen and Rufus and all the people he’s loved, and for the first time in a very long time, Cas prays—for peace, for love, for comfort and safety. For home.

[poohkeepsee]

I was going through my AO3 bookmarks, and I wanted to organize them a little bit. These are my Dean/Cas canon-ish fic recs.

season 5

canticles  by  2street2car Words: 10,311     Chapters: 1

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

FTBYAM MY BELOVED

post season 6

Someone Who's Feeling For Me  by  ellispark  Words: 45,876     Chapters: 1

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

post bunker

Sun Can't Set Until Nine  by  LeverDrift Words: 67,939     Chapters: 16

Cas moves into the bunker as his powers start to fail. Dean doesn’t know if the arrangement is as permanent as he wants it to be. He's also not sure why he keeps dreaming about his friend. All he knows is that he wants Cas to stay. Overall warnings: canon-typical miscommunication & Dean having self-hatred issues.

Life Skills  by  ilovehowyouletmefall           Words: 26,052     Chapters: 3

After Metatron steals Castiel's grace, and Cas comes to live in the bunker, Dean spends a lot of time with him, sharing all of his favourite things. Dean can't help it if sharing things with Cas just makes everything better. Besides, it's Dean's job as Cas' friend to introduce him to the joys of human life. To teach him how to be human.  And if one of the experiences they end up sharing is sex with women, well... that's just part of Dean's job as Cas' friend too, right? The desire is triangulated, the rituals are intricate.

Sam Stole My Boyfriend  by  sobsicles    Words: 8,445     Chapters: 1

“Dude, you’ve been staring at me a lot lately, like even enough that Sam noticed. More than usual. So, like, what’s up?” Dean pauses, purses his lips and reconsiders. “What did I do?”

Cas knows that would be a perfect time to confess to Dean what exactly happened and what he was thinking. Maybe, Dean had some insight into the situation or even some kind of comfort to offer. But, the longer that he sat there, he realized that he could not tell Dean absolutely anything. So instead, for the first time, Cas fumbled.

“Um,” Cas mutters and abruptly stands. “Freckles?”

Dean blinked up at him as Cas pivoted and left the room. There was only one remaining option he had and unfortunately, it involved Sam.

Aching in the Absence of You  by  sobsicles Words: 95,090     Chapters: 10

Brittle and battle-worn, Cas looks at him over coffee one morning and says, "I need to go," and Dean instantly knows that he's not coming back.

He's not really sure how he knows it, but he does. It settles into the pit of his stomach, curling hot and tight like something he instinctively wants to tear out with his bare hands. He takes a breath, and it gets stuck in his throat, hitching there. It hurts, hurts, hurts when he finally exhales.

"Yeah," Dean says, "of course you do," and he nods jerkily as he looks down at his phone. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't look up from the screen when Cas gets up and leaves the room. He doesn't finish his coffee, or move for a long time.

By nightfall, Cas is gone.

'Communication'  by  JustAnotherSamlicker Words: 11,656

The same story told from two perspectives.

Dean bought a house and he and Cas fix it up.

Is Dean moving out? Is Cas moving in?

Should they just talk to each other already? (Yes they should)

Build a Home  by  domesticadventures Words: 20,102

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them.

He doesn't

season 10

The Most Important Thing  by  NorthernSparrow Words: 94,462     Chapters: 14

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

season 12

Heroes for Ghosts  by  pantheon_of_discord Words: 42,922     Chapters: 7

Canon-divergent from 12.08

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

season 13

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees)  by  sobsicles   Words: 74,173     Chapters: 8

Dean keeps going back.

When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains.

He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would.

He likes to talk.

There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time.

Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.

Trial and Tribulations of Raising a Nephilim  by  Sickandtiredofyou Words: 14,910   Chapters: 6

Dean has far too much on his plate, losing his mom, his best friend and now being a single parent to a newborn nephilim.

In which Jack is an actual newborn instead of a teenager.

post season 13

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination)  by  sobsicles           Words:     108,427     Chapters:     4

Freedom is just one adjustment after the next.

Cas hums again. "I think you already have. It's been months since everything settled. All that's left to do is...get used to it, and perhaps—" His voice stalls out, uncharacteristically, and his gaze roams Dean's face with intensity. When he speaks next, his tone is a little raw. "Perhaps what one does with peace is...whatever they want."

"What if I don't even know what that is?" Dean grumbles, arching an eyebrow in challenge. "'Cause I know damn well you don't just mean good food and a good bed and time in Baby, not simple wants like that. You mean—ya know, the big things, the wants we didn't get to have before."

"Yes," Cas agrees. "If you're not sure, figure it out."

"Easier said than done."

Reasons to read this:

Dean reads a story that ends like despair and his reaction is FUCK THAT

Cas wears Dean's hoodie

Jack is a toddler

The Jack and Claire sibling energy we deserve

Eileen being awesome and pulling pranks with Dean while Sam thinks she's an angel

Sam knows

YOUR HONOR THEY'RE IN LOVE

First Date  by  aeli_kindara Words: 8,968    Chapters: 1

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

Also known as the Dean Winchester makes the first move fic.

season 14

Broken Road  by  thegeminisage Words:     109,629     Chapters:     7

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

post season 15

fools and pilgrims  by  lagaudiere Words: 31,904     Chapters: 2

Claire shows up at the bunker a day before Dean was planning to leave, with her hair cut short and a fresh tattoo on her left arm under a bandage. Chuck is dead, Jack has given up his godlike powers, and Cas is back from the Empty, which doesn't make it any easier for Dean to talk to him. Suddenly finding himself in a world without monsters, supernatural forces, or any need for hunters, Dean's solution is to go on a road trip. Claire tags along.

Dean-Claire mirror fic post Despair

what's missing is found (our souls can exhale now)  by  sobsicles Words: 27,403

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

canon(?) au  (Hunters and Men of Letters)

Dean Winchester's Secret (Angel) Boyfriend  by  reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent Words: 11,191     Chapters: 1

Dean Winchester isn't exactly a team player. So when he starts mentioning a new Hunting partner, Ellen and Jo Harvelle aren't sure whether they should be worried or relieved.

But they're starting to get the feeling there's something important Dean's not telling them about Cas...

Shot Through The Heart  by  peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim) Words: 11,191     Chapters: 1

Dean is a hunter.

Castiel is a Man of Letters.

And even though they have to work together on a regular basis, there is not much sympathy between them. Castiel thinks Dean too brash and reckless while Dean in return sees nothing more in the other man than a rude asshole with an obsessive love for books and a truly terrible fashion sense.

But fate clearly has a funny way of throwing those two together over and over again.

And somewhere along the way feelings change into something neither of them would have expected.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: *long sigh* finally. This story has been haunting me for months now. I was so tempted to just go crazy and start uploading it because I love it so much. But If I’m uploading this, it means that we’ve made it to the promised day! Yay! You guys, I think this may be one of my favorites. Which, if we’re being honest, all of my works are my favorites. But this is everything.

That is all. Please read and enjoy. Let me know your thoughts, I’d be overjoyed to hear from you.

Chapter 1. Unbreakable Bond

It was easier than I thought it would be; breaking the bond. Perhaps I was just desperate enough. Practically begging on my knees as I stood outside the dingy apartment building, knowing that this was irreversible.

Wanting it to be irreversible.

The woman’s name is Christina, and she gives me a wary look as she explains the cutting process. Her own severed thread is a testament to her underground business. I trust her.

“I need you to be absolutely positive about this,” she warns. “There's no going back once I cut the thread. It will be nearly impossible to find your soulmate.”

That’s the least of my problems. I know that it’ll be all too easy to check in on the whereabouts of my soulmate; after all, he rarely goes anywhere without it being broadcasted to the entire world.

“Burn it.”

Warning me about the impending heat as she pulls out a blowtorch, I hear her sigh. Christina gathers up my thread and places it delicately atop a metal slab. 

The little warehouse attached to her apartment offers little distraction; there are a few scattered tools laying about and nothing else but dull gray walls. In a time like this, a distraction would be nice.

“Do you ever regret it?” I ask, an uneasy turn of my stomach pushing the question out. Christina pulls her faceguard down, gesturing for me to look the opposite way. My shadow takes up the entire wall as she fires up the blowtorch.

“Me?” I can feel the heat of the fire, but I refuse to flinch. “Not really. But I do feel a bit bad for my soulmate.”

I frown at the gray wall. “Why?”

Christina shifts to get a more direct angle on the thin red thread that hangs from my finger and extends to disappear under the door. “You’re not the only one who is about to lose a soulmate today. At least it’s your decision.”

Staring at the unforgiving gray wall, I have plenty of time to mull over her response. However, the second I begin to worry or feel sorry for my soulmate, I remember the sweaty palms and crippling anxiety from earlier.  

As Christina takes a step back after nearly thirty minutes, turning the blowtorch off, I turn to assess the damage. Frowning at the still intact thread, Christina snorts.

“Don’t move.”

She takes a lofty hammer in her hands, bringing it down hard on the thread. I gasp as sparks fly into the air, my thread tightening around my finger and pulling. Grabbing my hand, I struggled to remain upright on the stool.

“We’re almost there!” Christina huffs, bringing the hammer down again and again. Sparks continue to fly, one landing on my shoulder and burning a small hole in my shirt. My hiss of pain is cut short as the pressure on my finger suddenly loosens, nearly causing me to fly backward since I was straining against it.

My breath comes up short as Christina removes the hammer from atop the thread, and I see what happened.

The formerly vivid red hue fades to a dull color, almost a brown-red like dried blood. I watch as the frayed ends begin to retreat, one end slipping off the table and disappearing under the door.

I push off the stool, ripping the door open just in time to see the red thread glinting under the moonlight, drifting away on a breeze. Retreating to its other half.

Glancing down at my hand, I hold up my finger where the other frayed end stops just a few centimeters away from the base of my finger.

“Yeah, it’ll stay like that,” Christina says as she comes to stand beside me. “Unless you want me to burn your finger off…?”

I give her a dry chuckle. “No, thanks. It’s alright like this.” I tilt my head, marveling at the fact that I’m looking out into the world without my thread obscuring my view. “So...will his thread just disappear?”

Christina shakes her head. “Your threads, while cut, still mirror each other. So his will look like yours in a few minutes when it catches up to him.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

She invites me back inside, offering me a salve for my aching shoulder that was burned, frowning as she tells me that it will most likely scar.

“I’ll just consider it a souvenir,” I mumble. Christina laughs.

“That’s the spirit.” She passes me a mug of apple cider, sitting across from me at the same metal slab she calls a table where my thread was severed. “So, do you know who your soulmate is, then? Is that why?”

I take a long sip of the cider, my mind instantly replaying the scene from hours earlier. “I know who he is. Although, I wouldn’t say that I cut it because of who he is. He’s a great guy, actually. Top notch.”

Christina raises her brows at me. “Really? What makes you say that?”

I pause to look at my frayed thread, the string of fate loved by the world over. The thread that I always thought would bring me joy beyond belief, but made me realize that it would be better to let go.

For him.

“Do you know BTS?”

Christina sets her mug down with a loud bang. “Do I - of course I know who they are. Why?” Her expression turns to horror. “Why?”

I wince, taking another sip of my cider. Holding my hand up to display my severed thread, I wiggle my finger. “Park Jimin.”

✂

Jimin is in the middle of his dinner when he feels a sharp tug on his red thread. Chuckling at it, he holds his hand up for the thousands of fans watching his live to see.

“My soulmate is acting up, I think.” He watches as the comments flood in, most everyone mourning the fact that they are not his soulmate. A few people tease him about it being them on the other side of the thread, and while he knows that they’re simply joking with him, he can’t help the increase in his heart rate.

If only.

The thread tightens around his finger, making him hiss in pain. “Ouch,” he mutters, pulling back against the thread in order to sit still. “Sorry, everyone. What were we talking about? Oh, right. The concert today -”

Jimin whines as the thread pulls even harder, nearly causing him to spill his drink. Pulling back as hard as he can, he gives the camera an apologetic smile.

Then, his eyes widen as an idea strikes him. “Do you think I should follow it?” He asks excitedly. He hasn’t ever heard about people’s threads pulling them in the direction of their soulmate when they’re not even in the same room, but maybe she’s here, staying at the same hotel-

“I’ve gotta go!” Jimin shouts, blowing a kiss with his free hand before promising to visit everyone again soon. “Thanks guys!” Ending the live, Jimin shoots out of his chair, barely remembering to grab his room key before bursting out of his room and into the hallway.

Following the pull of the thread, he grins as he follows it to the elevator. Punching the button as hard as he can, he jumps from one foot to another as he waits for the doors to open.

“C’mon, c- bingo!” Sliding into the elevator with a gleeful shriek, he ponders for a moment before deciding to hit the ground floor.

Jimin’s cheeks are red with excitement by the time he reaches the lobby of the hotel, not even noticing when a couple of the bodyguards that escorted them to the concert venue today see him and immediately start following him.

“Mr. Park!” One of them calls. “Mr. Park! You can’t just leave without some form of security!”

Jimin hardly spares him a glance as he bolts for the exit where his thread continues to pull him. “Then follow me!”

The bodyguards chase after him into the night, exchanging concerned glances as Jimin follows after his thread like a convict on the run.

They nearly tackle him as they round a corner he just turned a few seconds prior, stumbling to a stop as they see Jimin standing still in the middle of the empty road.

“Mr. Park,” one of them pants. “Where are you going?”

Jimin stays completely still, the sudden lack of tension from his thread causing his heart to stop. Glancing down at where it’s wrapped around his finger, he feels the exact moment his heart stumbles to a stop.

Floating on a breeze, he sees the other end of his thread. Skimming along the ground like a plastic bag tossed about by the wind.

“What is it?” Jimin breathes out, the question leaving his lips without his consent. “What is it?”

There’s a chill that settles over him as the thread comes closer and closer, making Jimin retreat almost as though he could stop it from reaching him.

“No!” He yells, taking another step back as the end of the thread now arrives at his foot. “No! Not like this!”

The bodyguards watch on with disbelief as the thread works its way up to Jimin’s hand, slowing to a stop just below his finger. They’re continually glancing down at their own threads, making sure that they aren’t about to stumble upon the same ugly fate.

But it’s just Jimin with the cut thread. It’s just Jimin, who falls to his knees with a dull thump. Staring down at the thread, raising his shaking hand and grasping the frayed edge.

“Are they…?” One young bodyguard asks. His senior shakes his head.

“No. The thread turns gray when they die, remember?”

“Then what happened?” He asks again, eyes wide.

His senior sighs heavily, heart breaking at the sight he’s only ever heard stories about. “They must have found someone to cut it.”

The young bodyguard gasps. “Cut it? Is that even possible?”

Jimin’s sobs answer the question for him, the sound echoing off the buildings. One by one, lights turn on in the surrounding apartment buildings as people wonder what the commotion is all about.

Jumping into action, the bodyguards swarm Jimin, picking him up and supporting him between the two of them. Jimin’s body is weak and limp as he shouts and sobs.

“C-come back to me.”

next

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masterlist

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[life-rewritten]

WE BEST LOVE  (Fighting Mr 2nd) DEYI and The Theme of Control and Power

You know that show that you know you can talk about forever and be obsessed with, although it seems pretty simple and not really that complicated to analyse and break down? Well, We Best Love (WBL) is precisely that in the most amazing way. I'm not shocked because I've always been a fan of the History Series, especially with this writer and how she creates her projects; it's not surprising that WBL happens to be the most comfortable show to lean into. It feels like entering a cheesy, cute, romantic novel. Yet, it still is the most angsty, passionate, drama-filled plot enough to make you want to run into the screen and comfort these comfort characters, scream at them when they're not making sense, and keep watching despite the pain when you feel like they've gone too far. And I kept quiet and watched season 1 of WBL. I was entranced and in love because it was so simple, but it felt perfect for me; it was a distraction, it made me smile, and it also made my heart quiver. I adored all the actors, and I also enjoyed how the storyline was told. It doesn't have to be so deep and full of clues, but there were facets to the characters, clear set rules in understanding their character roles, and small hints building in the last episode that all was not well and a lot was coming for our couple in the future. It broke my heart because season 1 was focused on the immaturity and naiveness of how we feel when we enter university for the first time; the excitement, but still innocence of hopefully finding someone to mesh with, and yet the dumbness/naivety that can distract us or slow us down before knowing who that person is. Season 1 was light, funny, and sweet because that's how our doe-eyed souls feel when we first enter college and get to discover who we are. Season 2, on the other hand, is focusing on maturity, actually dealing with our flaws, coping with the responsibilities and hardships of life, duty and obligation vs wants and need; the characters are older now, affected by the world's cruelties/situations and now have walls up higher than before. 

And in order to help us get that vibe, even more, our couple's relationship is put through the wringer, hearts torn, misunderstandings prolonged unfairly, and everyone broken just staying in a state of pining, longing and anger, anger, at what was lost to them; the innocence/fun of falling in love, the guise of being in control, and the joy of being free and dumb in love. It isn't a surprise to see our main character, Shide and Shu Yi, see their flaws fleshed out more in the open and actually increased and exposed for us, the audience, to watch and dislike. Shu Yi's short temper becomes even more exposed as he struggles to have control over his past and feelings for Shide once they reunite, and Shide's withdrawal of emotions also becomes even more strained and put on focus as he also realises what he has lost. Both of them enter this sick twisted, and tense need for control and power that their relationship becomes intense and full of passion hidden behind the anger and resentment. So I'm going to break down the idea of Control and Power with these twos relationship, a certain theme that has been there since season 1, and why now it's something both rivals are struggling to obtain to win, especially Shuyi, who is determined this time to not be Mr 2nd when it comes to Shide again. Hence the title Fighting Mr 2nd.

Misunderstandings and Miscommunications

Let's first focus on the miscommunication/ separation at hand. This exposed so much already about how these two felt about the power they hold over the other. Let's first look at what season 1 exposed; for Shide, Shuyi has always had control over him since the moment his young self told him that he would be a companion to him whenever he was lonely. Shide has desperately loved Shuyi and did everything possible to ensure he kept Shuyi's focus on him no matter what. The way he decided to do this was to put himself in a place more powerful than Shuyi; he put himself always ahead of Shuyi, ensuring he was always number one no matter what. This was how he controlled the situation; for him, as long as Shuyi noticed him, he was happy to continue hoping for a change and also making him react. In Shide's mind, he never wanted to force/ make Shuyi fall for him because he didn't think it was possible. He just wanted to be by his side (as a 'friend') until graduation was over.This shows me already some stuff about their relationship. How Shide perceives Shuyi; one, he didn't trust in Shuyi's love as being as strong as he was. He even says it to Shuyi on the bridge when they confessed to each other. For him, Shuyi was always the 'lucky' one; the one in control, the real winner because he had him in his palm of his hand. Shuyi was the one who made him whipped, the one he chased after secretly for 8 years or more. Shuyi has always been the one with the hold over him. Immediately they got together, Shide also tells Shouyi his confusion but the happiness that Shuyi is also feeling the same towards him.

Shide can't believe the switch in Shuyi's personality and actions for him; Shuyi still tried to play of Shide's grand confessions of love in the last episode, and Shide was okay as long as Shuyi kept paying attention to him. But in my head, it showed that Shide didn't think Shuyi's love was as unconditional, as strong, as uncontrollable as his. He didn't know he had any hold over Shuyi. He thought it was his constant love and chase that won Shuyi in the end, so what happens when he thinks he pushed Shuyi away? In Shide's perspective, he's the one who slacked behind and pushed Shuyi away by disappearing for 5 years, which fair enough makes sense; Shuyi has every right to be angry at being ghosted. But Shide blames himself and thinks it's because his show of love was weakened and slowed down that it caused Shuyi to retreat and walk away easily. Because he wasn't fighting anymore for their love, he lost Shuyi's attention. Again this suggests how fickle he believes Shuyi's feelings are and how still in his head he believes he's the one with the long-lasting love/feelings.

Shide's personality is someone who likes to be in control (like Shuyi but for different ways and reasons); he's kind of had to always be; ever since his dad died, he's had to try and make it his goal to become stronger and better to take care of his mum, and to ensure they live well. This is connected to the theme of Duty and Obligation in the show.  Even in Season 1, the reason he has to leave for America for a bit is to ensure his mum settles in nicely. Even after that, he's again the one responsible for ensuring whoever was sick in America was taken care of. It's because of his need to be responsible and be in control that Shuyi always feels distanced from him (mocked, misunderstood, and hurt). Shide is someone who likes to keep a calm demeanour. He likes to take things on by himself; he likes to not show when he's hurting or alone (apart from that one time as a kid where he broke down on Shuyi). In fact, it might be because Shuyi is the only one who did see him in his vulnerable state and gave him an aim to become stronger that made him cling on to his love for him and devote himself to his love for him. But in looking so in control of his emotions, Shuyi always saw Shide as someone who loved winning and making him feel like a fool. In season 1, he thought Shide did it on purpose to see him lose control and be a mess, and in season 2, he's resorted back to that thinking. Let's look at why?

No 1 for You (Shide’s pov)  vs Fighting Mr 2nd (Shuyi’s pov)

Shuyi did not also understand the proper depth of Shide's feelings. I guess we should have seen it coming that he didn't fully understand how deep they were, he had heard ideas from Shide's mother, he had heard grand declarations from Shide (after he was the one to pry it out of him), but he didn't actually trust it fully. I think because he didn't fully trust both their sexualities and identities when it came to their feelings. Like I said, we should have seen it coming when he admits he doesn't want to fall for a guy, but also it's because it's Shide he's okay with being in love. However, people complained about this because in BL, we're tired of the I love you, not boys trajectory always chosen. However, it was more than that. I think because of what's embedded in people's minds at a young age (due to society),  there might have also been, as a result of that,  hints of internalised homophobia (IH) with Shuyi. And that's why it made sense for him to wither and assume that Shide truly would be with someone else and be married and have kids. Because of IH, Shuyi may have automatically thought it made sense that Shide would move on, get married and have kids in America (hence as he said in episode 1,  he was disqualified by choice) because, in his head, he didn't understand Shide's love and devotion for him.

It also points to insecurity and fear that he might not be enough/the better option for Shide. One of his pet peeves was that he was always coming second to Shide, he was always being seen by himself as second best, and he probably also thought he had become the second-best option to Shide living a great 'fulfilled' life according to 'society' where he is married to a wife and has kids. This is why in the special episode, he also gives up easily and wishes him the best refusing to actually question why Shide would do this to him after all the stupid and grand promises he made a year ago before he left. Promises of marriage, promises of devotion, of being his family etc. Of course, this felt like Shuyi was thoroughly mocked and lowered because he had lost again to Shide by letting his heart trust him and wait for him. Now, in season 2, he's determined to not do that too. To not lose control of his heart ever again. To not fail to Shide in any way, shape or form ever again.

Shuyi; The Guise of Control

Shide is always acting on the surface like he's in control, causing Shuyi to always think he's more vulnerable and a fool, and it makes season 2 make more sense. Even if Shide says, he'll make Shuyi look at him again, how on earth is he meant to ever let that happen? He literally manipulated the situation in season 1 and got Shuyi's walls down only for him just to cheat on him, so how can Shuyi trust just his actions on the surface?

No matter how devoted Shide is looking, even at the end finally showing a hint of losing control under Shuyi's hold which Shuyi was not expecting because he thought Shide will always want to again be 'proper'.  And in the past, it was Shuyi who always pushed for skinship once they started dating; Shide always again acted like he hadn't been affected; this was discussed actually in that final episode. Even if on the surface Shide looked affected, Shuyi wouldn't trust that. Because Shide is always holding back whilst Shuyi always feels like a fool, never being able to control himself around him, never being able to control his emotions or have a poker face around him. From the first episode in season 1, Shuyi has always been uncontrollable when it came to Shide, whilst Shide always came out looking cool.

Shuyi always ended up in the most vulnerable shameful state (forgetfully hurting himself in reaction to Shide's presence, being the one distracted and bothered by skinship in the last episode whilst Shide studied, or even being exposed and screaming down a bridge, his love for Shide to make Shide come out and say how he feels). Shuyi always ended up being weakened and frustrated because Shide seemed like he had everything in order. Shuyi is now adamant he's lying or that Shuyi is still the one who's more in love with him (his biggest fear). For example, the slap he gives to Shide (exposed his lack of control of emotions around Shide) and yet Shide immediately tried to control the situation, making Shuyi again look like the irrational one and the most affected one. Also, as mentioned it Shuyi (in Shuyi's head), who proceeded to force/get Shide to confess. Because Shide was too focused on controlling his environment, avoiding the situation, holding back his feelings, whilst Shuyi's emotions always get the best of him and caused him to still lose in front of Shide. Basically letting Shide get his way all the time. And by doing that, it was Shuyi who ended up waiting for a year and then being 'cheated' on, being ghosted with his heart shattered.

The Fear of Weakness and Vulnerability

Other examples are Shide going to Shuyi's house and ignoring him in his own home (again, Shuyi can't even control his environment when it comes to Shide, everything he owns feels little because Shide seems to have a hold over him in everything), and proceeding to make him the fried rice. Even as the vice president who's meant to be in control and be in charge of letting go of people (which his father is pressuring him to do, he has no choice in the matter), Shide is the CEO (a higher position)  of the company and is adamant on convincing Shuyi to do no such thing. It's a big fear to Shuyi, which is why he's determined to ensure he does fire these people because if he doesn't, It means he's again coinciding underneath Shide's hold over him, over everything he has, including his heart.

The act of making fried rice in Shuyi's house as if nothing is going on, Shide ignoring his tantrums and outbursts does again what Shuyi hates, makes him feel stupid, weak and vulnerable. It makes him feel like he's losing again to Shide. This is why I think he really has no other option in his mind to win but to use emotions and feelings (what he can't control) as a weapon to capture Shide. By making Shide fall for him emotionally and then being the one to break his heart, that's how Shuyi thinks he'll finally be able to break down Shide's calm, façade that he's always in control, that's how he stops being Mr Second. Obviously, it's a stupid idea because Shuyi literally becomes weakened just by being in Shide's presence. To be anywhere intimate with him, he will only resort to his own emotions being, even more, harder to handle even if he tries to play it off as just attraction.

And for both of them, control is even harder physically with emotions because they've been 'starved' of each other's presence for 5 years, of each other's touch and connection. As shown in episode 1 of FMS, they're both in a state of pining, longing and waiting for one of them to give in. For 5 years, Shuyi was secretly fighting against the truth that he had been waiting for Shide to return even when he tried to focus all his energy and heart into hate and bitterness (to distract him from the pain of waiting). Shuyi never wanted to give up on hope, never wanted to let go of Shide, because it's out of his control to forget or move on. He couldn't do that even if he tried. This is why he also tries again to use a power play with a fake girlfriend that he couldn't remember the name for.  Every single sentence he said was how he compared himself to the girl he thought Shide cheated on him with. He was saying it to hurt Shide, but in the end, he was still exposing his own hurt and insecurity about why he thought Shide left him.

Shide; Control Vs Sacrifice

Meanwhile, the audience all know that, on the other hand, Shide is the one who has no control over the matter. No matter what he seems like on the surface/ in front of Shuyi, Shide is completely tired, weak and frustrated once he sees Shuyi again. It's frustrating because the only time he shows his emotions is once Shuyi isn't looking; he cries only after Shuyi has left, always holding his feelings and only letting it out when he's by himself. Although to Shuyi, it seems he's in control, being the CEO, being the one who disappeared for 5 years, being the one who is successful and influential, Shuyi couldn't be more opposite in his thoughts. Shide has no control over the CEO position; it's not a job he chose for himself, it's not what he wanted to do, he did it because of again his responsibility to his mother and family. Shide isn't the one who chose to disappear for 5 years in America; he again had no control over the situation because someone else was ill, and he had to be the one to help his family again become stable. And lastly, Shide isn't successful and as influential as he's sold his company to Shuyi's father, so he actually isn't in control of his position, of his life essentially. What Shuyi sees as control is unfortunate because it's actually Shide's sacrifice; he's had to lose what he actually wants to be in that position. All he's ever wanted is Shuyi. Ironic no?

Even in Season 1, when he seemed to be the one controlling the situation, he wasn't; he always did everything to get Shuyi, and for 8 years him being 'in control/winner' as Shuyi puts it wasn't him winning because he always didn't get Shuyi's heart before he confessed. And that's what's so heartbreaking about Shuyi's misunderstanding of Shide; when he first sees Shide in the past in his memories, he doesn't know the moment Shide fell for him; he just sees Shide winning over him, he doesn't even notice the first person who had control over the other was him, because he already took Shide's heart, trust and devotion. This is why Shide told him he was the lucky one; he was the one who was winning, who was always in control. Not Shide.

Love and It’s Hold and Power

And again, although Shide is the one he thinks he's second-best to. Shuyi has a lot of power over everyone else since he was young. He's been a spoilt, rich boy who's had control over his friends (in a positive way like they felt they had to watch him and babysit him), he's had control due to his father's power, and he's had control now over Shide just due to again his father's job and his heritage. And I think that's why he can't stand the fact that no matter what he does when he's with Shide, he loses all of that power; he's reduced to wanting to do something for someone, like in season 1, washing the dishes, being humble, exposing his feelings to Shide so loudly and vulnerably. Shide is the only person who makes him want to do all that, and he hates it. It's why when the employees in episode 1 call him again Shide's girlfriend (even though literally Shide bending down to tie his laces is an act of losing control and him being in control of him), it bothers him because it makes him look weak. He's the one flustered by the actions; his heart is shaken by the movement. What he sees about Shide vs what's genuinely being shown/exposed is so opposite, so of course, they're more prone to misunderstandings because they've always both seen the situation very differently.

So WBL has always been using this theme of Control vs Power with Shide and Shuyi. And how, because of love, both of them feel this lack of control over each other. Mostly from season 1, when Shide gets closer to Shuyi using the idea of rivalry to see who can win over each other, even though he gives in always to Shuyi on purpose. Shuyi's misunderstanding has always been an issue since episode 1, since even when Shide kissed him in the pool. This time around in season 2, we get to deal with the actual seriousness/reciprocation of what that misunderstanding and fear of lack of control can do to them. And how others can manipulate that (Shuyi's father probably). Either way, these twos relationship has become angst central because Shuyi really is fighting Mr second, he's determined this time not to lose to Shide no matter what and he's finally using like the last way he can possibly gain control over Shide. His body. The most vulnerable part of a person is exposed when they sleep with someone else; by getting Shide to even want to give in to him as he requested, he can expose everything about Shide, his weakness, his heart, his truths. Hence, it makes sense the relationship is using attraction and chemistry as a powerful tool for the storyline. Shuyi isn't going to be able to even go through with anything because he's just as vulnerable and weak with Shide as Shide is with him.

I love angst, and I love power plays and fight for control in rivals to lovers stories. I love misunderstandings and requited, but they don't know the trope. I just really enjoy WBL, and I'm so excited to see what happens next. Looks like Shide is finally going to lose that façade he has on the surface once he breaks down under the influence of alcohol; probably, poor boy has been suffering so much. And I think both of them will soon need to gain control over their situation together so they can defeat the obstacles that come in the form of Shuyi's father, society, company issues etc. So yeh, I'm loving this, and it's such a breath of fresh air. Friday is too far away, sigh.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Playing volleyball in Milan is everything Atsumu dreamed of and more - the lights are brighter, the crowds are bigger, there are no distractions, no nagging to ignore, no pending errands to run - nothing to detract from the rush of exhilaration when he executes yet another perfect set. His teammates introduce him to the joy of soaking in the sunset over aperitivo by the Navigli canals, and he develops a liking for cheese and cured meat -  prosciutto, salami, bresola, sending pictures of the street markets to Osamu even though he receives no reply.  

But it’s not long before the novelty of living alone in a foreign land fades. He’s never been particularly good with languages, so he’s unable to get across the language barrier preventing him from socialising outside of his teammates. So Atsumu finds himself falling back into habits he learnt at home - buying take-out pizza on Friday nights from the pizzeria down the street, ordering extra because the pizza in Milan is thinner, crisper and infinitely less filling. There are no aquariums in Milan, no museums with dinosaur bones, so he measures his steps on cobblestone streets to the park every Sunday to sit on a bench too large for him alone, watching the birds and clouds in the sky. 

He tells himself to be content with watching his baby grow through the frame of an eleven inch screen, recording every one of her babbled words and chuckles onto his phone until it runs out of space and has to call Suna for technical support. He becomes a regular at the post office, mailing packages of dolls and nutcrackers, chocolates from his favourite sweetshop and handmade baby dresses from wizened oba-chan he learns to air kiss on both cheeks. 

‘Home, Oto-san?’ Shino asks during one of their calls. His voice breaks when he has to tell his baby ‘sorry, darlin’, not yet’. It’s the only time he opens up the webpage to check if he can book a flight back home. 

He starts rushing to the locker room right after matches end to avoid seeing his teammates’ faces light up when their families congratulate them with kisses and warm embraces after every match. When his teammates ask about his family (he drives away the thought that they’re asking out of pity), he whips out his phone to show them his favourite picture of Shino, her little face screwed up in confusion when they loaded her back with the giant mochi for her first birthday- ‘such a trooper, didn’t even cry when she fell down’ he tells them proudly. He’s quick to swipe past any photos of her. 

He doesn't need the memories, he really doesn’t.

Well - he might not  need  the memories, but it’s not as if they disappear. He wakes up to find himself on the other side of bed. ‘Sorry, darlin’ he mumbles sleepily (because he knows he tends to invade her space, and she’s likely to kick him bodily off the bed if he doesn’t apologise quickly enough) - before snapping awake with a thin sheen of cold sweat on his forehead remembering he’s five thousand, nine hundred and sixty miles from home. 

Not that he’s counting. He really isn’t.

He’s ashamed to admit that he heads to the club that night to pick up someone - anyone to warm his bed, but he’s not sure if it’s the burn of alcohol or the flashing lights (or that prick of something in his chest - it can’t be his conscience, he’s pretty sure only Osamu has that) because his stomach churns whenever pigs with their painted faces and false smiles approach him, and soon gives up, returning to his apartment cold and alone. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol because he pukes his guts out in the morning and swears off from ever going to a club again.

“MIYA !’ 

He only has time for a brief flash of shock between hearing his coach shout his name and feeling the impact of his teammate’s full weight against his shoulder that sends him sprawling across the floor. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sickening snap of bone ringing in his ears as he’s lying on the ground. 

The sharp burst of pain stabbing his shoulder is enough for him to know what the doctors later confirm - a shattered collarbone. Complete rest for at least eight weeks is prescribed for a full recovery. 

‘What were you thinking, Miya?’ his coach asks him exasperatedly when he’s discharged from the hospital. 

‘I goofed’, he replies lamely. ‘Sorry, sir’. 

It wouldn’t do to tell anyone that for a split second, he was distracted by the sight of a dark haired woman with bright eyes cheering at the top of the stands, a plump toddler balanced on her hip. 

It’s close enough to the end of the competition season that his coach figures it’d be better for him to just cut his stay in Milan short and return to Japan early to recover properly. So he lands in the Osaka airport amidst a haze of rain, arm tucked in a sling. The airport staff are kind enough to help him wheel his bags out to the arrivals gate where he’s surprised to find Osamu waiting with a bored expression on his face. 

‘I thought ya weren’t talkin’ to me’, Atsumu says.  

Osamu snorts, taking hold of his bags. ‘Mum made me come and get ya, since you're useless with that busted collarbone of yours.’ Then he turns on his heel and matter of factly adds as he walks off - ‘Besides, you’ll end up stayin’ with me anyway - it’s not like you have a home of yer own.’ 

Atsumu opens his mouth to retort but shuts it with a snap. 

‘You better hide in the kitchen if ya don’t have the guts to show yer ugly mug around her’, Osamu tells him at half past six in the evening, not even looking up from the tuna and spring onion onigiri he’s forming in his hands. 

But Atsumu doesn’t. He tells himself it’s because he can’t bring himself to leave Shino’s side for a second more than he has to, not when he’s still drinking in the sight of her grown so, so big in the span of just a few months. The little girl had been confused at first, when both he and Osamu turned up at the childcare centre to pick her up, but after several minutes of coaxing her to recognise which one of them was Oto-san and Oji-san (the hair colour probably helped) and the bribe of a very elaborate doll (probably the main reason), she’d warmed up to him and refused to let go of his hand. 

She pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya with a gentle smile on her face when Shino shrieks ‘Mama!’ at the top of her little lungs and rushes over to her, though it vanishes the instant she notices that it’s not Osamu playing with the little girl. He tries his best to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest when she takes an instinctive step back to yank Shino behind her legs. 

‘You’re back’, she finally says, glancing at his arm resting in its sling.   

‘Yeah…’ he responds, starting to sweat like he’s standing under the hottest stadium lights. ‘Ya look good’.

‘I know when you’re lying, Atsumu’, she sighs - and if he's being honest, she’s right. To the untrained eye, she looks perfectly put together, dressed in a pencil skirt and heels with her hair neatly tied back, but he knows her too well to be fooled. He can spot the pallor of her skin beneath her makeup, the droop of her shoulders, the downward tilt of her lips. But before he can formulate a response, she grabs Shino’s hand and turns to go, the little girl waving goodbye at him until they’re out of sight. 

‘Wow. That was awkward.’ Osamu quips from over the counter. Atsumu can’t even find it in him to respond.    

Osamu makes him work at his store in between his sessions of physiotherapy. ‘To keep ya out of trouble’ he says, and Atsumu doesn’t really mind, it still leaves him plenty of time to pick up Shino from childcare every day, and it certainly gives him the excuse to hang around Onigiri Miya when she stops by in the evenings. 

He tries to make conversation with her - ‘That’s a new dress you’re wearing’, but is always rebuffed - ‘I bought this old thing years ago’, to Osamu’s endless amusement. She’d always enter the store with a fond smile on her face for Osamu (it makes him want to puke), and would immediately drop it the moment she meets his eyes. 

He tells himself it’s normal, she used to be cold and standoffish to him before they started dating, that she’d come around after a while. But even when he tries a different tack (perhaps compliments don’t work on her like they used to before), asking her ‘how’s yer day’, she shoots him a look of distrust that cuts right through his smile - ‘Just tell me what you want, Atsumu. You’ve never bothered asking me that before’. 

Osamu actually roars with laughter at that. Traitor. 

‘Need help with that?’ Osamu comments after watching Atsumu struggle to reach the exercise tape on his back with his one good hand, stepping in after Atsumu gives a reluctant nod. But he immediately yelps in pain when Osamu decides to abandon all pretense of being gentle and yanks on the exercise tape viciously.

‘Just take off my skin while you're at it, why don't ya’ Atsumu whines. ‘It never used to hurt that much when  she  would help me after physiotherapy’. 

‘She’s always been nicer to ya than ya deserve, fuckin’ scrub’. Osamu retorts, pulling at the remaining tape with increased vigour. 

Atsumu bites his tongue through the pain, picking apart his brother’s words before replying - ‘Hey ‘Samu. She’s still really mad with me, isn’t she? D'you think she’ll ever forgive me?’ 

‘Have ya tried apologising to her, for starters?’ 

‘What?’ Atsumu asks, bewildered, before yelping - 'Wait - ouch!! What the hell that bloody hurt!?!?!' 

‘You know - saying sorry? Owning up to your mistakes? Asking for forgiveness? You abandoned your wife and child for months - but I suppose that concept must be alien to you, shit stain.’ 

Osamu doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shaking his head as he walks away. 

His pride is an ugly, misshapen lump in his throat that's so inflamed it's almost impossible to be swallowed, but he does so anyway, asking her if they can speak for a short while in the alley behind the shop, away from Osamu’s eavesdropping ears. She furrows her brows at his request, but follows him out without complaint. 

It’s only when she’s standing before him in the dimly lit alleyway, the dying light of the setting sun reflecting a halo above her head that it hits him like a blow to the back of his head that he’s a fuckin’ idiot - how did he manage to convince himself to blame her for trying to get in his way of chasing his dreams. This is what he missed when he was living alone in his cold studio apartment in Milan - being able to return after trainings and matches to a cosy flat overflowing with her cheeky banter and his baby’s laughter. 

Gods, he wants his family. He wants to come home. 

But before he can pour out the apology he’d been preparing with Osamu’s help, she interrupts him by slapping a brown envelope into his chest. 

‘Look, I’m not sure what you have to say to me, but frankly, I’m not sure we have much to say to each other anymore,’ she tells him impatiently, as he opens the envelope, a tidal surge of dread overwhelming him. 

‘What's this’, he says blankly, even though the title on the very first page of the stack of papers trembling in his hands sets it out clearly -  Rikon-Todoke. i.e. Divorce papers. 

It spells out in clinical, cold words the terms of the proposed separation - dissolution of marriage by mutual consent, no request for alimony or compensation, legal custody to be granted to her with ample visitation rights for him. He would think it fair, if it were to apply to anyone but him.  

‘But why?’ he rasps, chest burning from the knife that pierces him right through his heart. 

She shifts forward, and the neon lights from the buildings surrounding them melding together to throw her face into sharp focus, her mouth curving upwards into something much harsher than a smile. It’s as if his departure acted as a whetstone, sharpening her edges, shaping her into a woman with hard eyes he can’t recognise. 

‘You and both know it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it Atsumu? You’ve made it quite clear that this marriage isn’t what you want out of life. In any case neither of us have really been happy even before you left, so we might as well be free from each other.’ 

At this, he shakes his head, parting his lips to object but she continues ruthlessly, her words slicing past his tissue thin excuses. 

‘If anything, my time with you has taught me that it's impossible to stop the storm from destroying everything in its path. You can only try your best to outrun it, and  this' - ’ she stabs a finger at the stack of papers shaking in his hands -  ‘this is my attempt at outrunning you.’

It feels as if his world has somehow shifted, tilted upside down, turned inside out, his assumption that her taking him back would be an inevitable conclusion now disproven by the papers burning in his hands. He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but he never thought that his choice to chase what he thought were his dreams would leave him without the ground beneath his feet. 

‘You don’t need to do anything else - just sign it and give it back to me soon. I think it’s better for all of us - you, me and Shino, if we divorce formally and lead our own separate lives’, he hears her say, turning to go. 

Acting on instinct, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist and she flinches, the steel in her eyes crumbling to leave only frozen terror behind. 

I could never hurt you, he wants to say, but doesn't - because he knows it's a lie. 

Numbly, he releases his grip, letting his hand drop to his side. 

He hears the door close behind him. 

Osamu finds him hours later, crouched on the back steps to the shop, papers clenched in his hands. He takes the papers from him and mouths to himself while scanning through it, but there is no spark of surprise in his eyes. 

‘Did ya know she planned on divorcing me, ‘Samu?’, Atsumu asks, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 

‘I had a pretty good guess it was coming’, Osamu replies heavily. 

‘Fuck’, Atsumu groans, dropping his head between his legs. 

Osamu prods his side with the tip of his shoe. ‘It’s not that I want to kick a guy when he’s down, but she's your wife, not a toy you can toss aside and come back to after a few months, shit for brains. And if I’m being honest, it looks like you’re acting like a brat who only wants his toy back when someone else picks it up’.

Osamu’s response lights a fire in his chest, and he whirls to his feet, grabbing his twin by the front of his apron growling - ‘Whose side are ya on anyway?!’ 

Osamu looks at him calmly, uncharacteristically refusing to take his bait. ‘Well, it's not as if ya don't deserve it. You walked out on her and Shino for almost a year, Atsumu. I’ve been the one cleaning up yer mess like I’ve been doing my whole life - I’ve been the one picking Shino up from childcare, I had to accompany yer wife to the hospital when yer kid was down with a high fever - d'you still have to ask whose side I’m on?’

‘D'you love her, ‘Samu?’ Atsumu asks after a pause. 

The twins stare at each other. 

‘I love her like a sister, you asshole. And I hate that it’s my own brother causing her pain.’ Osamu eventually says, pushing him away.  

The door slams behind him again.  

The dark clouds above him rumble ominously. It starts to pour. 

[still-a-morosexual-help]

OBEY ME! LESSON 54 DETAILED SUMMARY + THEORIES

There are 2 locked lessons and I really need to start unlocking things + I have all the hard lessons too…

Asmo’s gushing about whatever Beel did, saying it looked like Beel was enjoying himself too and maybe he discovered a new side to himself, Barbatos says that while most of it was probably solomon’s curse Asmo’s ability to charm people impressed him and I really don’t want to know. Barbatos says though many demons can charm others no one’s on Asmo’s level. Asmo tells him not to feed his praise kink but is sad that his charm never works on MC. MC wonders why they’re immune and Asmo says that’s what he wants to know. Barbatos suggests they break for tea. Barbatos goes off to make tea and Asmo suggests they take a peak at his grimoire while he’s gone. MC shuts it down. Asmo says MC doesn’t know what Barbatos is capable of – that none of them do. Lower rank demons shudder at his name and there are rumours that his powers can rival the Demon King’s but for some reason he’s just Diavolo’s butler. & when it first happened the news of it had shook the devildom but no one other than Diavolo knows why it happened (considering Asmo and them weren’t even in the devildom when Barbatos became Diavolo’s butler it really must have had a big impact for even them to find out about it.) He says the answer to that legendary mystery might be in the book so… MC shuts him down. Asmo sulks.

After tea they go to Levi’s room, Asmo tries to remember the secret phrase and MC completes it for him but obviously they don’t get a response so they just break in and end up in a green valley. They immediately all back out to the hallway where Asmo freaks out about the savanna now attached to their house. They open the door again and nope still a savanna and realise this is probably a game. Levi laughs and says they make it sound like he always does that….bro. Levi says this actually a program from crowe tht displays whatever scenery you want & he was actually trying to have a solo photoshoot while he still was a giraffe before they interrupted. Asmo despairs being related to Levi and Levi ignores him, saying that since MC’s a sheep they wouldn’t fit the savanna anyway and asks crowe to close the program. He then drags MC into the bathtub and starts telling them poses while he takes pictures and MC’s a fucking idiot so they go along with it. Asmo’s disappointed in life that Levi’s just having a cosplay photoshoot and Barbatos says hey you know Levi’s pretty distracted rn and MC gets the hint and moves in closer to Levi in what is implied to be a very seductive way, Levi starts stuttering and covering his face and MC gets closer. Asmo says with the most blank expression ever, “Wow… I can’t believe I’m watching a sheep making a move on a giraffe in a bathtub.” Ah yes the twilight zone says Barbatos. MC then yanks Levi’s tail out, he immediately wants to take a picture of the triumphant look on MC’s face. Asmo says, “ugh, gross…”

They’re out by the pool and Asmo’s giggling about all the photos he has of his brothers completing the orders and they would trend on devilgram and increase his followers. MC agrees but ultimately tells Asmo not to upload them, he complains but leaves to moisturise after he realises the air outside is really dry. Barbatos says they won’t be out long but Asmo says this right now is a life or death situation as he runs back in. Barbatos says there’s no reasoning with Asmo and the two of them are left in awkward silence until MC either asks more about Solomon (he tells them he has nothing more to add and to ask Solomon) or starts talking about the weather (he asks if they feel awkward around him and they don’t need to feel uneasy and they don’t need to struggle to find a topic). Not one to be deterred MC asks him what he thinks of 1.)Diavolo – Diavolo’s the reason for his current existence and he devotes himself to serving Diavolo 2.)The brothers – he says that as long as you’re just watching them they’re enjoyable but if they involve you in their BS it becomes troublesome and that he wishes they didn’t include Diavolo in their shenanigans so often (as if Diavolo isn’t the one who readily jumps into said shenanigans or isn’t the one who causes them in the first place) Barbatos actually acknowledges this too and says Diavolo liking being involved gives him headaches 3.)The angels – he has no strong opinions about them though he does approve of Luke’s love for baking & that he finds it charming that he does it to pls his superior. He then asks MC how they feel about the brothers. They say the brothers are their family and that they love them all to death, he says that makes sense cause you’d go crazy if you tried to live with them and love wasn’t there to act as a buffer. He also notes that MC must trust them implicitly. He asks about the angels and again MC says they’re dear friends who they love, he says it’s understandable that MC would find them likeable considering how different they are from other angels (the implications of this lol). MC asks if Barbatos is gonna ask how they feel about him. He says outside of Diavolo he doesn’t give a shit what people think about him but since they’re on the topic sure he’ll indulge, MC says they consider him a friend and he says “thank you?” or that they like him and he says he’s honoured. I like that Barbatos genuinely does not give a shit about MC, it’s refreshing.

So the I like you is a confession not a casual platonic remark damn. And if you choose that the next lesson starts with him asking but ‘why me lol we barely know each other’ and MC can say they’re attracted to his looks, personality or devotion to Diavolo and it’s at this point I noped out and went back and chose the friend option. After the friend option it starts with Asmo coming back sobbing and asking for help with a sleeping Belphie being dragged along. Belphie had been sleep-walking and “those dumb-dumbs” had said Asmo was a pillow and Belphie had started chasing after Asmo and eventually caught up to him and now Asmo can’t make him let go. Barbatos says he doesn’t really understand what’ happening but he’s impressed that Belphie’s still asleep while being dragged across the floor and Asmo is mad at him for being impressed. Asmo tells them to hurry up and get his tail and order him back to bed and MC remorselessly pulls it off, which still doesn’t wake him.

Back inside, Barbatos complains about being the one stuck carrying Belphie and Asmo says they have no choice since Belphie won’t wake up and as a butler Barbatos should be used to carrying people, Barbatos says he has no idea what Asmo’s talking about and that as older brother shouldn’t he have more practice carrying people. Asmo says ew no cause he like his arms slim and he doesn’t want them to get too much exercise and become muscular. Barbatos sighs. The other 4 catch up with them, demanding Asmo give them his DDD so that they could delete the pics, Asmo starts running around while they try to catch him and Barbatos who has had his fill of all this shit for the day asks MC to make the brothers all stop, MC tries to play dumb but Barbatos smiles at them and says they know exactly what he means and he’s at his limit so try and fucking test him so they command the brothers to stay. Barbatos finds joy in the brothers’ suffering. Mammon and Satan are both smiley over getting to watch them try and catch Lucifer, Levi brings up how he escaped them the first time though they were able to catch Satan and Satan, while blushing, says he let himself be caught to help MC out. According to Levi’s reaction to this Satan’s being repeating that to everyone. Since Lucifer will be extra cautious this time around MC asks satan if he has any strategies to take him down. Satan’s delighted he gets to pull out his “Ideas For Utterly Destroying Lucifer So He Finally Learns His Lesson notebook” which is thick enough to be a lunch box according to Beel (and considering what Beel’s lunchbox probably looks like…) Asmo shuts Satan down cause 1.) they’re not going to actually kill Lucifer 2.) if they did he’d still find a way to get back at them and fuck them up even more. MC then turns to the only normal person here: Barbatos. The brothers realise Barbatos probably see a side of Lucifer they never do and ask him what Lucifer’s like when alone with Diavolo – he’s quite cheerful and really seems to enjoy himself. Asmo goes “Cheerful!?”, Satan says Barbatos must have confused him with another demon and Mammon says Lucifer’s default expression with his is a big, angry frown. Barbatos says maybe they have themselves to blame for that. Asmo laughs and says Lucifer has a soft spot for Diavolo and then brings up his similar soft spot for MC (the implications…) and that gives Asmo an idea – to have MC “act all sexy and seduce him” like they did with Levi. “Fucking excuse me!? What happened with Levi!?” asks Satan while Mammon tries to get Levi to spill all the details and why he got to mess around with MC when Mammon didn’t. Levi starts stuttering and denying it but Mammon says he’s shaking so hard it must be true when all Mammon got was being hung from the ceiling. Barbatos agrees that Asmo’s plan would be their best chance and he too compares Lucifer’s soft spot for Diavolo to his soft spot for MC (THE IMPLICATIONS!!!)

They search the entire manor and end up outside Lucifer’s room, Barbatos asks MC if they’re ready to go seduce a demon and they say, “fuck yeah!” and I mean to be fair they’ve been unconsciously seducing demons from day 1 so… Asmo and Barbatos will be outside watching through a crack in the door. MC knocks and goes in when Lucifer answers. Lucifer says he’s surprised to see them come walking into the wolf’s den on their own and he calls them a brave little sheep (fucking cheesy ass bastard I love him). MC gets the option to either sit on his lap or to pull him by the front of his shirt an make him sit on their lap and it’s the second option that actually works and makes Lucifer blush (and I think I’ve said this before but despite all the sadistic Dom vibes Lucifer gives out he gets incredibly flustered whenever MC takes charge. This man gives out the serious vibe of someone just begging to dominated and/or topped, and I mean after having to be in control of everything for his very long life it makes sense that he’d want someone he trusts to temporarily take the control from him). Barbatos and Asmo are whispering commentary from the corner. Barbatos says that Lucifer obviously can’t resist being proactively pursued while Asmo says he looks super happy on MC’s lap. Lucifer says, ”So you think you can do whatever you like to me, do you? …All right. What are you gonna do next MC? Go on…” Asmo moans about being really jealous. Barbatos asks who exactly he’s jealous of. Asmo says both obviously! Lucifer asks MC what they’re gonna hit him with next and honestly he really is begging for it isn’t he? Lucifer desperately wants to be fucked and MC just wants his tail…  They can either beg him for the tail or demand it from him. He laughs if they beg saying they look like a sad abandoned puppy and smiles at their audacity if they demand it, either way though in the end he tears his own tail off and hands it to MC cause he can’t find it in him to refuse them. Asmo barges in with a camera cheering and ready to take a pic of Lucifer following an order but Lucifer asks Barbatos to take “the little voyeur” away, Barbatos agrees but says Lucifer now owes him one. Asmo screams, complains and cries the whole way out. Lucifer then looks at MC and asks what they desire from him.

MC comes back to their room to find the other 2. Asmo immediately bombardes them with questions asking what they made Lucifer do and if they took pictures. MC can just say it was a lot of fun or that it’s a secret or that he should ask Lucifer. Asmo’s upset at first and then says “WAIT WAIT did y’all fuck!?” (or rather he asks if they did things they can’t even tell him about. This and that he says.) He gets excited about it and Barbatos congratulates MC on collecting tails from all of their opponents. He says there are more important things to focus on than whatever Lucifer & MC did (Asmo takes offense to this) like the fact that Solomon will arrive soon and says they should have tea while they wait. Asmo asks if something feels not right about a game being a test for sorcerers and MC agrees that it’s strange. Asmo says getting everyone’s tails was too easy and that there should be more to it for example like… for example like if we double crossed you, says Barbatos and then he pulls MC’s tail off. And like I mean Solomon did say that MC had to be the last one standing before he gave them Barbatos and Asmo… but still damn that’s fucking cold…

In their room Solomon laughs his ass off about how MC hadn’t suspected them till Barbatos actually bulled their tail off and Barbatos says MC’s willingness to put all their faith in a person is both their greatest virtue and their greatest weakness and it made their job very easy. Asmo giggles about how he even managed to take a picture of the shock on MC’s face. I like to imagine MC’s just lying flat, face down on the ground stewing in misery. MC raises their head from the floor to demand how they could lie to them like that. Solomon bursts out laughing (and MC thumps back onto the floor) and asks them to hear him out before they get mad. He says the game wasn’t the exam and it was instead to see whether MC could resist the temptation to open Barbatos’s grimoire despite knowing how powerful it was. Asmo says they were even able to resist his attempts to sway them. Solomon says there are very few sorcerers and that they keep their existence secret from the public and they need people who they can trust to not reveal that secret no matter how great the temptation to do so is. Barbatos says the grimoire they had is fake and there would have been consequences if they’d opened it. Solomon says they passed the test and that they’re an amazing person who deserves their fifth star – chastity. Asmo congratulates them and MC either thanks them, says they’re really happy rn or says they’ll continue to work hard. Solomon says he’s as happy as if he was the one who passed the exam, he then asks Asmo if he can take a look at all the photos he took, Barbatos says Solomon looks way too happy and Asmo says that though Solomon said he was just testing MC, getting these pics might have been one of his goals too. Solomon laughs and says maybe. And that’s it. I actually really liked this whole arc and how he gave more backstory for Barbatos, Solomon, Asmo and even Diavolo while still keeping Barbatos and Solomon’s pasts secretive and it’s got me frothing at the mouth for more. I also like how they established the relationship dynamics between Barbatos and Solomon and Barbatos and Asmo. I really wanna see more interactions between Solomon and MC too…

[glimmerglanger]

I really liked TS - I thought you treated some potentially very icky issues on power and abuse between Ben and Jango with thoughtfulness. Are you taking requests? Because if so I have some! (I also sometimes struggle with fic requests because clearly, as the author, you ended the story where you thought it was best to be ended...but we are greedy creatures...) I’m very curious about the Jedi that Jango delivered as bounty - Dooku? Does that come into play when Jango delivers an ass whooping on Qui-Gon? I would also love to see the first time they’re intimate post freedom, maybe from Ben’s perspective? And maybe a moment when Jango hears what’s happening with the new mandalorians vs death watch? I feel like he would be conflicted, but make a conscious decision to stay out of it. So! Many! Thoughts!

Thank you! I am generally into doing snippets after long fics. I like playing in the space for a while, it brings me joy. I decided to did into Ben’s POV on them getting intimate the first time. 

This takes place roughly two years after the ending (or three years before the coda). Jangobi. SPICY. Not Safe For Wizards. Mentions of past trauma, but no major warnings. It’s mostly Ben thinking, honestly.

~~~~~~~~

Ben relearned how to want things slowly.

Sometimes, on particularly bad days, he wondered if he’d ever known how to want things in the first place.

He couldn’t be sure, one way or the other, and, really, it didn’t matter in a practical way, so he left the thoughts slide away. Instead, he spent his time learning what kinds of food he wanted to eat, what kinds of teas he wanted to drink - he no longer had to rely solely on what was brought to him - and how he wanted to sleep…

He learned how to want all those things. Basic things. Things other people probably knew how to want automatically, and--

Sometimes, his head got so loud, so noisy with memories of why he didn’t. The weight had a way of pressing down on him, crowding into his throat and his chest, smothering and thick. He learned, before they ever landed on Yulion, that Jango made that go away.

Jango felt things...strongly. He had since the first time they met, when he broadcast a need for help so clear and sharp that it had cut through everything else. He’d felt like a drowning man, thrashing around desperately.

Ben had been taught how to help those drowning, in another life. Received warnings that, if you got too close to a foundering soul, they could push you down, as well, unintentionally and in a panic. Those drowning often drowned uncautious rescuers. But that wasn’t a good reason to allow someone to perish.

Jango had radiated a desperation for help, so Ben had helped him.

He still did, sometimes. But there was something...below that need for help, ever and always. Ben didn’t have words for exactly what it was that he felt from Jango, as they lived together. But it made his chest warm and achy. It chased away the tightness in his throat and the memories in his head that made him want to pull himself to pieces.

He could press close to Jango and feel, with certainty, that he was wanted. Safe. Secure. Jango used the word ‘love’ for how he felt. That felt like a good descriptor, Ben decided, eventually. It was...warming and wonderful. Ben wanted to pull it all around himself some days, some nights, after nightmares.

Jango seemed happy enough to let him. When Ben requested that he keep feeling that way - haltingly - he always went still, and Ben could feel him trying to modulate his surface emotions and it was--endearing. Ben could not find a way to tell him that the underlying base of what he felt didn’t change, anyway.

Perhaps someday he’d find a way.

He hadn’t, by the time he realized he was learning how to want other things. The realization slipped in slowly, as the two year anniversary of their arrival on the planet eased closer. He found himself watching Jango more, as he cooked or cleaned his weapons, found himself aching oddly as they spoke softly together after getting Ani to sleep, found himself breathing faster, when Jango curled around him - body and feelings - in bed.

They’d been married almost a year. He’d expected, at first, that Jango would become impatient with waiting for him. But he seemed content enough to...handle things himself. Ben felt it, distantly, when Jango touched himself in the fresher, the twist in his emotions and wants a shining kind of beacon.

The first time Ben idly imagined joining him, his cheeks flushing at the thought, he ended up standing outside, staring up at the sky and dragging a hand back through his hair. Ani followed him out and insisted they play tag, which, at least, thoroughly took Ben’s mind off of matters.

But the thoughts recurred. The wants returned, even when Jango wasn’t feeling any particular wants at all. Which meant, Ben was increasingly sure, that the desires were his own.

Ben shivered, considering the scope and breadth of what he felt. It was...strange. But not unpleasant. His gut flooded with warmth, the next time he leaned in to kiss Jango, something they did, occasionally. Ani was sleeping, safe and snug in his bed, his presence in the Force gone slow and peaceful with dreams. 

And Jango felt--so good, his mouth and his hand, curved against Ben’s cheek, his wants and emotions curling out between them. No one else had ever felt the way he did. It was one of the reasons Ben had so much difficulty classifying the emotions he picked up.

Those thoughts fled, in the moment, as Ben settled closer, warm all over, fingers tangled in Jango’s hair. They’d been on the couch. Ben had been reading, he thought, before he started kissing Jango, and--

And he couldn’t recall why he cared what he’d been doing. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, changing the angle of the kiss, and Jango made a sound against his mouth, shifting a little closer and then checking his movement. 

Jango pulled back, blinking a few times and turning his face to the side. He cleared his throat and said, “I think I’m going to hit the fresher,” like a code, as though Ben didn’t know exactly what he planned to do in the fresher, and--

“Don’t,” Ben said, the word slipping out as he reached out, curling fingers around Jango’s wrist.

“Ben,” Jango said, his voice thick. He glanced over and said, eyes all dark, “I’ll come back. I just--”

“I’d like you to stay,” Ben said, wetting his bottom lip without thinking about it. “Or--for both of us to go. Maybe to your room.”

Jango stared at him for a long beat. “You want to be held?” It was a fair question. Ben often did. 

His heart beat a little faster in his chest and he said, feeling a flush creeping over his cheeks, “No. Not really. I want--” He shifted closer, slid his hand over Jango’s thigh, and Jango sucked in a breath when Ben found him hard “--to help with this.”

“It’s--that’s--” Jango swore and visibly marshalled himself. “You don’t have to. I’m perfectly capable of handling it on my own, so--”

“I know I don’t have to,” Ben cut in, and there was a giddy kind of joy to hearing the words and knowing they were true. He could feel that Jango meant it. “I want to. Do you want me to?”

The question felt silly, for a beat. He could feel how much Jango wanted, could feel what he wanted; hands on skin and mouths brushing together and soft gasped sounds. “Yes,” Jango told him, swallowing hard, “I do--” And Ben leaned towards him, and his fingers were in Jango’s hair, then, his mouth sliding against Jango’s, warm and welcoming.

Jango wanted, so badly. Ben felt it, shivering as Jango slid a palm up Ben’s thigh. Ben managed to get a hand under Jango’s shirt, on warm, familiar skin, as Jango rasped out, “Ani could wake up.”

“I’ll know if he does,” Ben murmured back, reassuring. Ani felt deeply asleep. Content and safe. “Please.”

Jango made a ragged sound, and Ben was willing to admit that perhaps adding the please had been slightly unfair. Jango wanted him to have the things he wanted. And that was--heady, as Jango pulled him into a kiss, one Ben was delighted to melt into, the pair of them slowly sliding sideways, until they were sprawled out on the couch. 

It didn’t take much effort to undo the closures on Jango’s slacks. He was hard, his cock familiar when Ben curled fingers around him. Jango made a ragged sound, kissing across Ben’s cheek, to his jaw. Jango’s beard rasped against his skin, a flare of sensation as Ben shifted his grip, tilting his head back, aching, thinking about the best way to bring Jango off and--

“Do you want--” Jango broke off, shoving up on one arm, eyes dark and breathtaking. “Do you--” He shifted his hand, fingers dragging down Ben’s stomach and, oh. Ben had barely realized he’d gotten hard, himself. “Can I…?”

“Please,” Ben rasped out, again, and took Jango’s wrist, pushing his hand further down, enough that he could rock up into the pressure. Jango swore, quietly, and tugged at the closures on his pants, radiating want and--

Feeling someone want, more than anything, to make him feel good was something Ben had not been able to imagine, a few years ago.

It made his spine arch, made him groan, made him hard and aching and wet and--

“Gonna take care of you,” Jango rasped, and kissed him again. Ben nodded, half-senseless all at once. He could feel that Jango meant it. Jango had meant it for so long. Tried and succeeded and--

Ben buried his fingers in Jango’s hair, when Jango shifted down his body, bit his lip to muffle the sounds he wanted to make, somewhat, at the touch of Jango’s mouth over his skin. He was so close to the edge already when Jango licked across the head of his cock, mouth warm and hot and unexpected and--

Ben felt himself rock up; he felt electrified, throbbing and so full of wants and demands from his body. For a moment he wondered if Jango had somehow learned how to read wants, too, because he bobbed his head and slid a hand between Ben’s legs, thumb brushing back and forth, so perfect.

Ben went off like a shot, like the blasters Jango had insisted on teaching him to shoot, barely able to strangle out a sound. Jango swallowed, and Ben made a ragged sound, feeling good and achy at the same time, inside of his body, a whisper of other wants getting louder.

He set them aside, focusing enough to hear Jango breathing raggedly down by his hips. He’d turned his face against Ben’s thigh, muscles tense, an arm stretched back. Ben managed to raise his head enough to watch Jango jerk himself hard and fast, emotions flashing over all hot and good and buoyant when he came.

For a moment, they just slumped there, breathing heavily. “Oh,” Ben managed, finally, tingling from head to toe. 

Jango snorted, cheek still pressed against Ben’s thigh. He shifted, wiping his hand on his shirt and then, with a little frown, pulling the shirt off and mopping it across Ben’s stomach. He asked, voice all warm and thick, “Was that...what you wanted, Ben?”

“Mm.” Ben nodded, trailing touches over Jango’s skin. “Yes,” he said, and then, learning all kinds of things, “I want to do it again.”

Jango’s head snapped up, and Ben couldn’t help but smile at the expression on his face. Jango said, tone darker, “You…?”

“Now,” Ben told him, “I want to do it again now.” And Jango made a hoarse noise, falling into him, kissing him while Ben wrapped both arms around him and just...felt, for a while.