#he’s never taken anything seriously in his miserable life

[dnangelic]

I gotta wooork but I just gotta say even though dark’s the one who ends up on the receiving end of being called an emo more than daisuke daisuke’s the one with more emo spirit

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.

“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”

Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.

“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.

Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.

“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”

It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.

“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”

“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.

Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.

The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.

He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.

He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.

Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.

“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”

“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”

“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”

“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.

Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.

Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.

“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”

“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”

“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"

Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.

"Where'd... ya get all of this?"

"Hmm... here and there."

Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."

Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."

Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.

"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."

"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."

"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."

Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.

----

"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"

Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.

"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."

Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.

----

Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...

"Hair-dye?"

Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.

"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."

Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"

"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.

"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.

"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.

Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.

Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?

"Fuck."

[brynn-lear]

LOCKED AND LOADED [Yandere!Wanderer x Reader]

Prompt: The world is about to end. How will you grieve when you're forced to be with a miserable man until the last second? [Dedicated To: @mixed-kester for the Alone Together Event]

Content Tags: yandere!scaramouche "fluff" oneshot (yes, there are no other parts:]), major persona 3 spoilers but you DON’T need to know the game before reading this since everything is explained, improper use of a S.E.E.S evoker /j, Scaramouche is so normal about you, UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, major character death/s–

V. Acceptance.

"Where the hell are you, (Y/n)?"

Standing near what should have been the front doors of his university was a short man with dark purple hair. He leaned precariously against them, his head tilted upward as if the sickly green moon's ominous pull was nothing to be afraid of. Gekkoukan University's nearby dorms– fraternity and sorority houses included– are not usually this silent. Instead of people, coffins were aligned perpendicular to the ground.

The wanderer glanced at his watch with mild interest. He had been waiting for a while now. Your guest hoisted himself up, circling the ground with the tip of his shoe. The baseline of his attitude had always defaulted to irritability and passive-aggressiveness. The vertically aligned hour-and-minute hands do not placate it. The timing itself makes it worse.

It's December 31st, 2009, 12 AM– the Dark Hour.

With a harsh sneer, he pocketed his hands. You usually have the door to the Velvet Room open to him whenever. What's the big deal? Were you seriously THAT mad at him? Really? He didn't do anything to warrant this "pettiness". He had never known silence as much as this moment.

You should've accounted for the hostility that proceeds on the "off-chance" he did arrive early.

His tone darkened, his bloodied hands gripping his S.E.E.S evoker tightly.

"If you don’t show up, I will cleanse the world of human emotion all by myself"

You shook from afar, afraid of how he wouldn't hesitate to make his threat a reality. He had already taken so much– you were beyond mad at him. You were terrified. Wronged. Abused. You didn't want to step into the light. Much worse, step into his shadow.

The worst thing evil can do is to turn you into one of them.

He clutched the bloodied yellow scarf in his hands tightly.

Why did this happen?

How did things END up like this?

IV. Depression.

You took a deep breath and charged forward.

You don't trust [Wanderer] ever since Ryoji told him about the impending apocalypse.

Seldom do you leave the Velvet Room. You weren't hiding in the Velvet room months before the end of the world was imminent. When April had only reached its fourth day, there was nothing you wanted more than to spend time outside. So ignominiously innocent. You did not know who [Wanderer] was and how much effect he would have on your life at the time. You were just tired of the ongoing stream of uneventfulness.

And now here you are, berating the protagonist in full.

"[Wanderer], why is Ryoji missing?! US ATTENDANTS CAN'T FIND TRACK HIM ANYWHERE!!!"

With a fistful of his university uniform, you yanked him by the collar. Your eyes were livid as you reeled your composure. This wasn't what you had in mind when you were "isekai"d into a video game. Out of any game, why did it have to be Persona 3? And out of anyone that could be a protagonist, why did it have to be HIM?!

You thought this would be a grand affair... Whatever they spun in anime back when your reality existed were pure lies. Where are the scenic views? The mountains? The grasslands? This plane of existence you're forced to sit through for eternity was far from the RPG fantasy people would hope for. No closer you could ever be to paradise.

In fact, this man is threatening to ruin said paradise.

[Wanderer] pulled your hands away forcefully. His glare was not that different from yours. "Why do you care about him so much?"

"Oh, I don't know! Maybe it's because his death means forgetting everything?!" You clenched your empty fists. "You know damn well what happens if he dies! You'll lose all the help you can get to stopping the Fall!"

Such a heavy weight on your shoulders but the protagonist doesn't care. This may be a turn-based game– but it wasn't based on you. If it was, you wouldn't be screaming your heart out at him! You wouldn't be an NPC. Hell, you'd probably be a better protagonist than him.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed every stress out of your system.

"Listen—" You rubbed your temple. "You need to start forming bonds. Social links. Support system. Confidants. Whatever you want to call it. You were supposed to have the answer by now as to what life is for."

[Wanderer] remained silent throughout your spiels. His facial expression alone was enough to infer immense disinterest. You were mindlessly doing your job. There will be no tirade or physical aggression that can convince him that you believe in your assertions with full conviction.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Yes! Of course. Knowing you, you're—"

"Tempted to kill him because you think I want the world to end?"

"Obviously."

That's where you're wrong.

A nihilistic man can have other reasons to commit murder.

"But if he's missing, you can forget about him, right?"

"What on earth are you talking about?!"

[Wanderer] turned around. "Meet me later, you know the time."

"I'll show you where Ryoji is."

III. Bargaining.

XX/09/2009

He doesn't recall the time he was brought into this world like you had.

Puppets are malleable. Memories are easy to overwrite when your body is held together by white wood and "khemia". His past evades him.

Maybe it's better this way.

He took you to Chagall Café. Although it was your first time out in a long while, he had no qualms about ignoring your questions. He feigned deafness as you asked about the news, his college life, friends, or anything related to what was happening in 2009. And he even ignored your humble request to buy the cheapest coffee for you. Instead, he bought you a chocolate frappe.

"For Elizabeth's cutest little sibling." He said, sarcastically copying Elizabeth's tone as he sharply handed the drink. "Wouldn't want everyone's darling to get a caffeine addiction."

Thanks, asshat.

Of all his offensive behavior— he really spent more money just to insult you. You shook your head and accepted it. It's the most expensive one on the menu too. What dedication to being a hater. But before you could open your wallet, he shot your payment down.

"Just take it." He smirked. "Look at you, paying me back for treating you poorly. Are you a masochist?"

You immediately shoved your money back in. "You still bought me a free drink, so really, who's the loser here? Prick."

[Wanderer] laughed heartily before he pulled out his battered codal, which had underlined texts for provisions he deemed important. There was a momentary softness in his gaze that disappeared in an instant.

But that's the only conversation he planned on having that evening. He did mention he'll drag you out in his study session so you weren't too shocked by it. Instead, you sat and awkwardly people-watched. The world you came from and this one were identical. You got through your old 2009 just fine— it's just that Tatsumi Port Island was not a real location from your original Japan.

Your memories about the video game Persona aren't very clear since you reincarnated in the game, but the red band [Wanderer] wore on his sleeve affirmed that he is the leader of S.E.E.S. It's nice to know that someone like him has the potential to become a leader.

[Wanderer] appeared wholly immersed in his studies.

…

Maybe he wouldn't notice if you looked around—

…?!

He immediately grabbed your hand. You yelped slightly as you noticed the iron grip he had.

"Where are you going?"

Don't leave him.

He squeezed just a bit more tightly.

"W-What the— I'm just going to the bathroom." You felt a shiver down your spine as you shared his gaze. There's a dull coldness to it you couldn't quite place, as if he had been a witness to injustice, sevenfold.

You quietly sat back down. He still hasn't let go of your hand.

"Good riddance." He muttered.

"If it isn't [Wanderer]!"

You turned around, yanking your hand away.

It's Ryoji.

You stood up, gawking.

"W-Woah, are you okay?" Ryoji asked, hurriedly approaching you. While you were frozen in place, [Wanderer] looked at his empty hand, feeling your warmth escape his fingertips.

G-Good… he's still alive.

You thought [Wanderer] killed him.

[Wanderer] is the wildcard, and that's a terrifying factor to consider. He hasn't shown any interest in humanity. Knowing his past has not increased any hope on your end. Everyone else in his eyes are insignificant insects.

He has the power to end Ryoji.

He has the power to end this world.

Locked and loaded.

Ryoji's eyes softened. "Wait, I think I know a beautiful face like yours from somewhere… You must be [Wanderer]'s attendant, (Y/n), right?"

You blinked.

"Wait, how did you…"

He chuckled, taking and placing a soft kiss on your gloved hands.

"I have my ways." Ryoji winked.

"Don't touch them." [Wanderer] sneered.

Ryoji stood up straight, unfazed by his threatening tone. You took a moment to examine his appearance. He had a lot of white clothing and a big yellow scarf around his neck. Just below his left eye is a mole. On the surface, he appeared quite human, but everyone seated at this table was aware of his true nature.

He is the 13th arcana. The appraiser.

You and [Wanderer] have every right to be wary.

"I'm Ryoji Mochizuki. It's nice to be officially introduced to you, Mx. (Y/n)."

"Ryoji Mochizuki…" You tasted the syllables.

"Oh? Who knew hearing my name from your lips makes it sound so wonderful."

"C-Cut it out, you don't mean that." You said, a little flustered.

[Wanderer]'s gaze fixated on you, stewing in his concoction of envy and misery. His fists were clenched beneath the table, knuckles turning white. With narrowed eyes, he watched as you continued engaging in conversation with Ryoji. His laughter was grating his ears. He couldn't bear the sight of you engaging with another man, especially someone as flirtatious as him.

Ryoji, sensing [Wanderer]'s distress, shot him a casual glance. To top the look, he paired it with a knowing smirk. He made mental notes of the man's clenched jaw and tensed shoulders.

"You seem a little on edge, [Wanderer]. Finals coming up?" He feigned innocence.

"It's December, and I'm not on edge." He scoffed, trying not to make his gritted teeth evident. "Don't you own a calendar? Finals are in March. To think a pea-brain like you managed to transfer to Gekkan…"

"Right, right." Ryoji smiled, closing his eyes. "Then it must be my proposal you're thinking of."

You stiffened; [Wanderer] did not.

"Ryoji—"

"I know, Mx. (Y/n)." He started. "I know you're not too keen on the idea of killing me. My existence is the affirmation of the Fall. None of you— sorry, I forgot (Y/n) is from the Velvet room— I meant none of them will live till Spring… Or perhaps it's more accurate to say they'll forfeit the will to live."

…

"… I-I'm sorry." Ryoji buried his face in his yellow scarf. There's a certain tremble in his voice that truly emphasizes his sorrow. "Just as all living things die, the flow of time cannot be hindered. But there's comfort in killing me. If you do… you won't have to suffer for the coming days."

If [Wanderer] kills Ryoji, Tartarus, the Dark Hour— the burden of everyone's memories will all disappear.

But [Wanderer] can retain his.

He's not originally from this world after all…

However, should he let him live, the rest of S.E.E.S's life will continue until everyone's inevitable demise.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

[Wanderer] rolled his eyes, diverting his eyes back to his notes. "Everyone will die soon, who cares? I've heard your spiel several times already. You need to get more entertaining material."

"[Wanderer]!" You scolded him.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at [Wanderer]'s unwittingly casual jabs at the apocalypse. You wanted to ask him if he was even listening, but the truth will disappoint you. A cold sweat formed on your brow.

Ryoji's smile crooked into a hopeless one.

"You depend on (Y/n) too much."

[Wanderer] froze. "What did you say…?"

"You have a group of people around you, eager to establish a bond— eager to be friends with you. You have met Junpei, Yukari, Mitsuru, Akihiko, Fuuka, and many others– but you don't consider any of them as your friends." Ryoji shook his head. "Instead, you spend your time with just (Y/n). Never anyone else. Just them. To the point that I think it's unhealthy."

"I don't care for humans." He replied immediately.

"You're human too, [Wanderer]." Ryoji shot back. "You're made of blood, bones, and flesh."

[Wanderer] fell silent. What Ryoji said was true, and yet…

"Am I?" He laughed.

The sound was hollow and mechanical. Deprived of genuine mirth. It did not sound forced, yet his eyes were dull.

…

Perhaps he lived as a puppet for so long that the idea of being human has yet to reach him.

Ryoji shifted, uncomfortably glancing between you two. The tension was palpable despite the cafe's peaceful ambiance. Ryoji cleared his throat softly.

"I should leave…" He trailed off, voice slightly wavering. His eyes darted around, scrambling for words to say. "But, um, before I leave, I just want to say again that you need to give it some more thought, [Wanderer]... It's a big deal… Just…"

Ryoji sighed. "Remember to make your choice to spare or kill me by December 31st. I'm glad you're having fun but don't get too distracted with (Y/n). I'll be waiting."

That being said, his footsteps reverberated loudly in the otherwise still room as he turned and headed for the door. He dared to turn back as he grabbed for the doorknob and saw you two sharing a look that he couldn't determine if it was one of contemplation or displeasure. He hurried out and the cafe door shut behind him.

"Happy?" [Wanderer] bitterly asked.

You paused for a moment… then grinned.

"Tsk, what are you laughing at, worm?"

"Nothing, nothing!" You shrugged. "I just thought that for a guy with a stick up his ass, you're cute when you're jealous."

That riled [Wanderer] up in an instant.

You do not know the full extent of his envy's filth.

"I am NOT—" He stopped, realizing how counterproductive it would be. "Whatever. I don't care."

"Uhuh?"

"Shut up and finish your damn chocolate!"

II. Anger.

Before you know it, it's April.

"Seriously, you three, I'm bored as fuck! Can't I just take a stroll outside?" You yelled, waving the heavy persona compendium in the air as your sisters ignored you.

It hasn't been long since you reincarnated, so your right to go outside isn't as liberal. Given the impending threat of an apocalypse, the Velvet Room attendants are especially overprotective.

"(Y/n), dear sibling, watch your mouth! You mustn't let Igor or Nameless hear you speak so vulgarly."

Taking a good look at your new "siblings", you've noticed how almost everyone was present. Margaret sat elegantly on the sofa while Theodore & Elizabeth were doing their best to calm you down. It's almost rare to have all three in one place. The three oldest were busy-bodies who had more eccentric matters they devoted their attention to. Including rapping and dancing, though neither performances are good for your senses.

"If boredom plagues you, then you should try teasing Theodore." Elizabeth yawned. "He's easy pickings."

"Sister!" Theodore pouted. "Shouldn't (Y/n) focus on studying how fusing works? It would be a better use of their time…"

"The day (Y/n)'s new wildcard learns the value of social links might just be the day miserly politicians become generous." Elizabeth shrugged.

You paled, tugging her sleeve. "Oh fuck… Am I screwed?"

She gave you a lopsided smile. "I may be your new sibling but that does not mean I am obliged to resolve your problems, (Y/n). Learn to solve this on your own."

Theodore coughed.

"Please, stop scaring them, sister Elizabeth. It's not their fault this new guest is a cruel arbiter. I fear there will not be a second of groundless joy in store for them…"

"You're not helping me relax either! Motherfucker. Can't you two speak normally?"

"Settle down, all of you."

The four of you stood straight as Igor tilted his chin up. Though you've gotten used to his bloodshot gaze, it had a way of prickling your skin this time around. With his signature smile, he closed his eyes and snapped his fingers.

"Our guest is about to enter."

"W-Wait, RIGHT NOW?!?"

Before you could react, the room transformed into what appeared to be a large elevator. The walls were barred and creaking noises began to subtly make their presence. A floating door materialized, and soon, opened.

Dark purple hair and eyes, short frame, soft face.

"…Hmm?"

You blinked.

"Wait, no way…"

You know him.

Of course, you know him.

"Everyone, meet [Wanderer]."

You decided that you two should reintroduce yourselves and forget that the past ever happened.

For now, you had been gifted with a vital role: being the protagonist's attendant.

According to your Igor, your role is to assist your guest in fusing personas. He had chosen you specifically in advance as you are his "anima/animus figure". Initially, that job was for Elizabeth. However, your beliefs, your intuition, your emotions— they're in perfect tune with [Wanderer]. Igor expects you to facilitate their spiritual and psychological growth and implore them to interact more with others.

Which, based on that alone, sounds like this puppet just hired an unpaid therapist.

"What do you want?"

"Well…"

Since you became [Wanderer]'s attendant, you've started to have thicker skin. He will always make his crankiness known each visit. You're slightly grateful for it, for how else would you know patience otherwise? Though his personality rubs you the wrong way, his strength does have merits you cannot ignore. Even Belladona, the Velvet Room's devout singer, had sung praises for his mettle. There was one line that struck you about her song, something about him being like a puppet with a beating heart unbeknownst to himself…

Which is why you thought you might as well try to see if you could convince him to take you out sometimes.

"What, like a date?" [Wanderer] scoffed then smirked, a light blush on his face. "Are you really that desperate?"

"No, eww—" You rolled your eyes. "I meant it literally. Igor and the others wouldn't let me go outside unless I'm with someone they trust."

He looked away and covered his mouth, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Like a child?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up." You deadpanned, your pride slightly chipped. "Like a child or whatever you want to see it, as long as it gets me out of here. I just want to see the world before it all…"

You paused.

Better not to bring it up. You're not sure if Igor told him yet.

[Wanderer] raised an eyebrow. "What's in it for me?"

You shrugged. "Is money not enough?"

He paused.

…

"You've got to be kidding me— Fine, what else do you want?"

His eyelids lowered, hissing slightly. "Evil expects evil from others, huh? I wasn't trying to think of anything more, but now that I think about it…"

"Oh, great."

"… I can take your request," he pointed at you. "But only if you join me in the library. Anywhere else, especially loud places like clubs, I'll send your ass back."

That's a no-brainer.

"Deal!"

Though you've missed the peculiar sight, [Wanderer] had a small smile on his face as you shook hands. The two of you had become nearly inseparable since then.

Worryingly, he's closer to you than other humans.

The only relationship he needed was with you.

And with what little time this world has left, you hope you could have a last cup of coffee with him…

I. Denial.

Your reality crumbled. What a START.

Your family, friends... all gone. No one was left. You convince yourself you "deserved" this punishment for smoking a life away with dreadful workloads, no matter how untrue it was. When the world burnt down, you were sent into a darkness you had not known before.

The person in charge of your reincarnation process told you that for the next few minutes, you and a selected companion will see your lives flash before your eyes in a void— and it will not necessarily be a comforting sight.

But you woke up relaxed. In an abyss filled with broken mirrors meant to depict your character to pieces, you donned a plain expression. There was not an inch of you that grieved for what was lost. Similarly, you had no care for how you were being transmigrated to another realm. Though you had grown accustomed to this isolation, humanity always struggled with silence. There was ringing on your fingers. When you unclasped your hands, you saw a pointed shard. Curiously, you clenched it. But no matter the tightness of your grip, no blood came out.

Your breath fogged up the glass. You wondered why that Memokeeper told you that you deserve to live on. You thought your life was rather unremarkable.

Makes sense. You thought to yourself. I'd rather pride myself on a boring life with integrity than an ambitious yet fraudulent one.

「Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Was that all your life was...? Then tell me, little (Y/n), why does the mirror in front of you appear distorted?」

And so, you gazed forward. Your reflection stood tall, larger than your life, and it beckoned you to come closer. This "(Y/n) (L/n)" had the opposite of a Cheshire grin- perhaps a caricature- perhaps an accurate depiction. Wearied of yourself and wearied of the sycophantic students around you. How unhappy are you to see yourself as someone like this? Are these the emotions you wish to be preserved? Is this the memory you want your world to be remembered by?

「These memories must be corrupted. Someone must be tampering with them. I do not think you lived a miserable life.」

I can't answer your questions either. But I think that reflection is who I am, because sometimes...

"I wish I had never been born at all."

Your lips were parted, but no sound came out. You resonated with those words, but they did not come from you. The voice was dark, hopeless, and alone.

When you were being sent off, you thought no one was around to greet you. There was another man. He had short hair and purple eyes- an incredibly rare sight in your world. This man seemed to be gazing at his reflection as well. You needn't know how he saw himself. The emptiness in his eyes did not differ from yours. He, too, was masking isolation as independence with an intense fragility. The dread he inflicted upon you was the closest you've ever gotten to facing your own perceived "weakness".

His memories were a mixbag. Some were filled with domestic bliss, but the anger in his heart triumphed more. He had friends but thought himself betrayed. His heart was constructed through a system of evasions, and he was a specialist in self-deception. This man knew little of emotions but had an abundance of it. It's no wonder he refused to sacrifice the artistry of his vengeance against humanity. You can sympathize with how he could not attach himself to those around him. He was burdened with malicious knowledge. Fakes. Lies. Insincerities. A class of his own.

However, he had a sin you cannot empathize with. A trait you can read that you're certain he had never noticed about himself.

He was a sickeningly beautiful man with a peculiar innocence.

He looked like a man who truly did not live in the real world.

This man did not feel real to you. He felt made-up. Fictional. His aura of flawlessness appalled you. Though you shared the same sentiments, you thought him dimensionless.

Yet this is supposedly your first meeting.

「Is it? Where have you seen him before? Can't you remember, dear (Y/n)?」

No. No, I can't.

「... What a shame. Worry no more, little (Y/n). Close your eyes. When you wake up, you will meet your new reality— new realm— new family.」

You nodded and agreed to a higher existence you did not believe in. Unlike others, you were a little bit more incapable of trusting a living soul. But there's no other choice.

Life is ordinarily far from anyone's control in the first place. Why bother fighting? If following can make her fuck off, it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.

Wait…

Is that…

Scaramouche?

Before you closed your eyes and accepted your fate, you could've sworn...

He looked at you with a crooked grin.

「Thou art I... And I am thou...

Thou hast established a new bond...

Thou shalt be blessed when creating

Personas of the Universe Arcana..."」

"Hmm. Strange… Is that truly the order of the story?"

A woman stared at you.

Not (Y/n) (L/n).

YOU.

BEHIND.

THE.

SCREEN.

She smiled wryly.

Hate might empower you for a short while, but it comes at the cost of consuming you whole. Should a shard or any surface reflect [Wanderer]'s face, he would understand what he had become. However, it's too late. He had made his choice and stomped away any remorse he could have. When all is said and done, he alone will spread the ashes. He alone will stand. A blank slate.

[Wanderer] spent his life looking for scapegoats and ended up removing his responsibility.

Betrayals?

What a sad, sad puppet.

What a poor excuse to justify an entire apocalypse.

A poor excuse of a man.

"THE ARCANA IS THE MEANS BY WHICH ALL IS REVEALED." She muttered softly. "And you have been reading your story in REVERSE. Perhaps this is the only way this world can attain SALVATION. The chronological order is not a slice of life. You did not have a disagreement and decided to start your relationship over again. Life is far more WICKED."

"Read it again, but from DENIAL to ACCEPTANCE. The proper way to GRIEVE DEATH."

With great reluctance, she took the five cards laid on the table and placed them in an upright position.

"Let's see if you'd rather ACCEPT the truth or live in DENIAL."

Mixed-Kester can now message Wanderer [prior to 12/31/2009]

[jarofstyles]

Illicit 10

Here we are, babes. The last official part of the main Illicit story. It’s bittersweet because I finally completed something lmao but also, I really love them and their story.

Safe to say this isn’t the last you’ll see of them. I’m fully planning on doing little flashbacks and check ins with them, feel free to let me know what you would like to see/if you have any unanswered questions. Thank you for reading!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings

Illicit masterlist

WC- 3.3k

Warnings- mention of wounds, stitching, having children, marriage talk, nightmares, etc

——-

“Harry, for the love of god, please be careful of your arm.” Y/N winced in worry as the man carried firewood over to their fire pit. He had not been taking his injury half as seriously as he had been taking Y/N’s concussion, treating her like the ‘delicate little bird she was.’ He’d gotten an eye roll for that. Of course he wasn’t letting her help lug the wood for their night in front of the fire. She’d requested with sleepy eyes earlier in the morning to make smores because they’d been in her dream and Harry was giving her basically anything she wanted. 

“M’fine, baby.” He laughed, appreciating her concern but knowing the injury barely stung anymore. “The stitches are coming out tomorrow, and we pushed it, keeping them until then. Only kept them because you wanted me to.” 

It had been about 2 weeks since the attack and they’d left for the lake house. As much as he knew it was terrifying for the both of them, he was utterly relieved to have Katherine behind bars. He’d made sure to keep updated by his contact in the force to know what was happening with her case. Apparently she had really lost it, but Harry didn’t give a fuck. He wanted her to rot behind bars, to live miserably and have Y/N be safe without the threat of some crazy ex-who-isn’t-an-ex looming in the background. 

Harry had kept work to a minimum, only logging in to oversee the decisions he had to make. There had been no calls besides the nightly one with his COO to ensure things were running smoothly. Other than that, his entire attention had been on Y/N. They’d barely left the house considering at first Y/N had been a bit embarrassed of her injuries. Another reason he’d hate Katherine until the day he died. Harry always was one to hold grudges, he was infamous for it. She’d never know peace if the man had anything to do with it. 

They were healing incredibly well, Harry taking the time at night to set her on the bathroom counter and wipe them clean and apply the healing ointment to them. The only one that was more than a fading scab was the one on her head along with the slight discoloration the black eye had caused. Other than that, he was more than relieved to see her bouncing back. The only thing that plagued him still was the nightmare. 

His nightmares. 

They’d always start the same, almost a play by play of what had happened to him walking into the home and up the stairs- only when he got there it had been too late. In his nightmare, the knife had already taken Y/N’s life and he couldn’t do anything to save her. He always woke up before the knife struck him, but it actually hurt him. It was a little difficult for him to admit to her, always wanting to be the strong one when it came to their pairing- someone for her to lean on fully- but she had cried once he told her and insisted that she wanted to be there for him. That a partnership was made out of balance and while she could offer him some of the same things he did for her, she was more than capable to be his emotional shoulder to cry on. It had been a tough thing to come to terms with but this week seemed to be healing. Not just physically, either. 

“Ms. Greta, please tell him to take it easy.” Y/N pouted at the older woman who brought out the tray of s’more making supplies. She’d made sure to add the peanut butter cups as requested. 

“I’m afraid if he won’t listen to you, he won’t listen to anyone.” She chuckled. “Men will be men, and that includes straining their physical health for the macho man act. One day they learn we do know what we are talking about.” A little wink was sent her way as Harry huffed, arranging the wood in the fire pit with a grumble. 

“Because I’m fine.” He stressed, standing up straight and crossing his arms. “It’s healed up nicely. I’m more than capable of setting up a little fire.” Crossing over to Y/N, he stole a kiss before grabbing the lighter and a few other things. “Just sit pretty and let your man do the work, baby. I’ve got it.” 

There was a snort heard from both women but Ms. Greta was now off the clock, wishing them a good night before retreating into the house. As much as he loved having the woman around, he really was obsessed with this alone time with Y/N. There was the residual guilt he had over her being treated less than ideally because he was juggling the faux relationship and the contract, but he knew now that he was going to have to take a bit of a step back from work in order to do that. He’d delegate as he was supposed to be doing to begin with, assign more to his assistant, take Y/N more places and on more dates out in public. He couldn’t fucking wait to attent events with her and show her off. 

He’d been waiting months to let people know who his heart belonged to, and he was finally getting the chance to do so. It was obvious now since the articles had been a media frenzy over the attack, things leaked he couldn’t pinpoint. The only thing he had been commenting on was the fact that Y/N wasn’t a mistress, Katherine wasn’t his lover that was scorned, and there was no true excuse for the actions. It was a good thing in hindsight that they were there, alone. No one had a true clue about the location and he didn’t feel like being hounded by paparazzi- though hopefully they knew better now than to test him and his hatred for the cameras.

One thing that had been burning into him, though, was a question he’d been wanting to ask her. One he knew that was a bit unorthodox but a necessary one nonetheless. 

She sat across his lap, his hoodie covering her tank top and denim shorts as her legs swung slightly while they waited for the fire to burn a bit hotter so they could roast their marshmallows.

“When would you like to get married?” He asked. “And how many kids are we thinking about?” 

The girl nearly snapped her neck as she looked at him with wide eyes, the not so casual question leaving his mouth as if it was him asking what she wanted for dinner. Harry always did find a way to shock the hell out of her but this was definitely one of the top questions that had caught her off guard.  Secretly, she’d assumed Harry had that all figured out. He always made sure to let her know how much he appreciated her opinions and her thoughts, that they were important to him- but he was a planner. Harry was the man in charge and she was happy to let him be. It took a lot of weight off of her shoulders that she wouldn’t admit to anyone else actually weighed on her. 

“Uh…” She blinked at him a few times. “I’m not sure. Kinda figured you’d be the one to pop the question. But honestly… Maybe a year? A few months? I dunno.” There was a slight lump in her throat. “I’ve no doubt I want to be with you the rest of my life so part of me feels like I’d probably be fine eloping right now if that was something you wanted but… We haven't really had the chance to be a couple out in the open. While I doubt that’s going to change much considering we feel so strongly, I think it would be kind to ourselves to let us iron out some of the details first before we fully tie the knot.” There wasn’t a right or wrong answer but it still made her a little nervous to answer. “As for kids? I’m not sure. 2? 3? I’d probably say we have one first and figure it out from there.” It wasn’t like they’d have to worry about resources externally but she knew Harry valued family more than anything and he’d want to be an active father. He’d already indulged that detail to her one night when they were particularly loved up. However, neither of them had any children so they didn’t know the workload it would entail, nor did they know how they’d work as parents. Of course they’d figure it out but it would make it a bit more clear on how many they could handle.

“First of all, as much as I’d love to call you my wife right this second… I could never deprive you of the wedding you deserve.” Y/N had told him about the fact that she had always dreamt about her wedding as a little girl. She had pinterest boards full of themes and wedding dresses she’d want to try and cake designs. He wasn’t about to deprive her of those things for his selfish needs.. Harry knew he was indeed a selfish bastard in every other facet of his life, but when it came to Y/N and his soon to be family? That was his only exception. “My mum would probably keel over dead if I did that too. Trust me, you’re going to get your princess wedding.” There was no debating that. “And for kids… I’d love to give you many, many babies.” His tone turned smooth, a little smirk lighting up his face and the twinkle of his eye. “But I think I agree. My idea had been 2-4, but I’ll take as many as you’ll give me. Always.” His hand pulled her in so he could press a kiss to her cheek, muttering a soft declaration of love. 

“Love you more.” She sighed, leaning further into his chest. “I’m so happy that we can live our lives when we get back. I know it’ll probably be a little crazy but there's no more hiding. We can go out and hold hands and kiss, people are going to know we belong to each other.” The giddiness on her face was bittersweet. “I’m so excited to be with you properly.”

The tinge of guilt hit him full on in the stomach, making him frown as he looked into the fire. He knew he had fucked up several times on this journey and Y/N just had a lot of patient and given him a lot of grace when he knew for a fact most other people wouldn’t- but that made it feel a little worse. He’d been wrong in not ditching the contract immediately. “Baby?” He said, voice quieter as he met her eyes. “I’m sorry. Genuinely sorry that I’m a stubborn son of a bitch and I didn’t just dissolve the contract and take on a lawsuit. I should have done it the day I met you because I knew you were going to mean a lot to me even there. I… I know I’ve told you a lot how you were the first and only person to ever make me feel the way you do, but it’s more than that. And my hard headed shit got us into something awful. I know I fucked up and you are more generous than I deserve but…” His fingers tenderly moved the hair from her face, stroking her cool cheek. “I’m going to work every single day for the rest of my life to make it up to you. I’m going to make you the most spoiled, well traveled, happiest woman I possibly can.” His voice stayed quiet as he searched her eyes for any hint of resentment but somehow there wasn’t any there. 

“H.. I knew what I signed up for. You’d been nothing but honest with me the night I ignored you. You laid it all out for me. I knew that you were taken in name only and I liked you so much that I agreed. I never felt like I played second to her. You can say a lot of things about you, lovely, but subtle isn’t one of those things. You never made me feel like she was important. I understood how important your business was to you- it’s the most important thing to you. Did I like seeing you with her? No. But you made it so clear to me that I was yours and you were mine, I never felt like… I never had any competition.” Y/N tried to soothe the ache she knew he felt. Of course she hadn’t liked people thinking he belonged to someone else but she knew he loved her. The most she had ever been loved, the most unashamed. 

“First, I have a correction- You are the most important thing to me. I’d give it all up for you.” That wasn’t a sentence anyone could take lightly, nor one he would ever thought he would say. It used to be the truth, but now it was far from it. “You are my life.” His gaze bore into her own as he cupped her cheek.  “There was never any competition. If we want the honest truth, I thought I’d marry as a business decision. I thought I’d probably not have any kids considering I only ever wanted children out of love. I was happy working until I was gray and about to keel over. Business was my only reason for being, and it wasn’t something I minded- but you gave my life so much more, so much color, my angel.” He’d never sounded more fond in his life, looking at his heaven sent gift perched in his lap. “I didn’t realize there was more to life until I met you. You opened my eyes and made my heart soften. I give a shit about a lot more than numbers now and it’s because of you.” 

People could say he did it himself but he knew the truth. Without meeting Y/N his life would have been the same robotic function it had been since he got out of uni, and he wouldn’t have complained. He’d never know how much he would miss out on. “I thank whoever in the world sent you to me every damn day and you know m’not religious. You are my miracle. It made me feel so fucking sick walking in that house and thinking you were hurt, I have never in my life felt that sort of terror. But I’d do it all again in order to keep you.” The scar on his arm was a reminder of that. 

“I love you, H. The most in the world.” Her eyes watered a little as she smiled at him. “I’m sorry you got scared. I was scared too, scared she would do worse with that knife though I’m still upset you got hurt at all. But I’d go through every bit of it again too.” She sniffled, feeling his thumb brush under her eye as a tear fell. “I know I want everything with you. The marriage and babies and our own house with a pool, if that’s something you want too. You’re the love of my life.” 

“And you’re mine.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to hers. “M’gonna spend every day proving that to you. Just wait and see, my angel. My heart is yours.”  

—-------

Nails dug into Harry’s back as he rocked slowly into his girl in their brand new home. One he’d bought her as a surprise when they arrived back into the city, leaving their old memories behind in the other penthouse and moving on to the next chapter in the rest of their lives. 

“H-Harry…” She bleated, holding on to him while the other hand grabbed his face and pulled his face down so he could be kissed. “Thank you. You always take c-care of me.”

His pace as slow and deep, pressing in as far as he could go on the brand new sheets they’d picked out together. The sunset bled into their room as they breathed each other in, wrapped up in their covers on their first night sleeping there. He’d spared no expense making sure he got the best of the best for her. He was dedicated to the cause, dedicated to proving to her that she was the most precious thing to him in the world. 

“M’always going to take care of you, my love.” He nudged his nose against hers as he dipped his hips to get deeper inside of her. It was like they couldn’t get close enough to one another, her legs wrapped snug around his hips while he kept himself up with one hand, the other under her neck. The term making love was fully about this. It was unmistakable. “You were made for me.” 

He couldn’t wait to spend every morning like this for the rest of his life. The man who used to cringe at the idea of fucking anyone face first now had it as his preferred position, wanting to make sure he could see every second of her reactions to him. She was snug around his cock, taking him like it was her only job in the world. He’d had no problem doing only this for the rest of his life. 

“And you were… you were made for me. We’re made for each other.” Y/N nodded, pressing another open mouthed kiss to his lips as he kept the steady pace, hitting the delicious spot he always knew how to find. “You know my body perfectly. It’s yours forever.” It was both the truth and a bit of a taunt, knowing how much he loved when she spoke like that. 

“You are. You’re mine and m’all yours, never have to share me. I love you so fucking much, Y/N.” He whimpered as her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on it as she was filled over and over again. He hit the perfect spot and was trying to get her to cum, trying to have her finish all over him so he could do the same and stay deep inside for a while. Craving this sort of closeness was an addiction, one he didn’t plan on cutting. The obsession with Y/N grew each and every day. “I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

The woman whined out his name at the last sentence, tugging him closer with her legs as she soaked up every bit of heat from him. It didn’t matter what happened, who tried to get in their way- they would always belong to one another. There was an understanding between both of them knowing this love was bone deep, soul deep, it only deepened by the day. When it felt like they couldn’t love each other more it just kept growing, no matter how full they felt. It was everything. 

A love like this was something people revered as pure, perfect, something that everyone craved and yearned for. Something out of a book or a movie, the sort of feeling that trumps all other people and situations. Their passion and yearning for one another had been cultivated in anything but pureness, it was made in the dark. It always made him laugh a little to know that such a concept had blossomed into a real, tangible thing that he could feel between their bodies, something he could see when he looked at her, something he could taste when he kissed her. 

A love that stayed between the lines wasn’t the type that grew stronger- that’s why he smiled when they called it illicit.

[andkisses]

♡ cold weather care | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: cold weather activities with you <3

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 857 ♡ genres/tropes: fluff, he’s so down bad and tbh u are too ♡ mentions of/warnings: none ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s and heeseung’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ inspired by the complete freezing and miserable weather im having  <33 minimally proofread lol

♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - cuddles and naps

the thermometer is far too low to even think of going outside, even if the snow outside is enticing and beautiful. instead, jungwon brings all the pillows and blankets he can find out to the couch, where after moment of nearly being engulfed by said pillows and blankets, the two of you nestle down into a cacoon of warmth. you snuggle against jungwon’s chest, one of his arms wrapped around you and holding you close. the two of you mindless stroll through netflix, looking for something awful and cheesy to watch. you kiss the bottom of his jaw and relish the way he smiles, cheek crushing into his shoulder. he wouldn’t want anything else.

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - first snow kiss

you both stay up late, peeking behind the blinds to look through the streets lights in hopes of catching the first few flakes. it isn’t until much past midnight, when you’re eyes are heavy and there’s no more games to play. one of you takes one last look outside, and the other starts throwing over coats and hats and scarfs and gloves. suddenly you’re outside, watching the fluffy white flakes fall down towards you. heeseung watches you, chest heavy with something good and romantic. he’s happy this is his life, happy you’re the one he gets to kiss delicately under a snowy night sky, lips soft and warm and smiley just for him.

✧･ﾟ: * jay - pillow forts

perhaps the both of you have taken this too seriously, but who’s to say when such an amazing pillow fort now graces the living room floor? sheets pitched like a tent with chairs from the dining table. you turned the floor into a menagerie of blankets, soft and fluffy while jay brought a carefully curated plate of snacks. you elect to catch up on the latest drama, the one that fell off because of work. as the snow pours down in white ribbons outside, you curl into jay’s side, savoring his warmth against your own. jay does the same, closing his eyes to place a kiss atop the crown of your head. how did he get so lucky?

✧･ﾟ: * jake - nighttime errands

you’re still chilly as you methodically look through the movies at your local library, trying to find something interesting and new. eventually, you grab something with a flashy cover. you check it out and prepare yourself before rushing out into the cold where jake waits. ever the gentleman, once he sees you on the way, he opens the passenger side door for you. when he asks what you picked, you tell him it’s a surprise. you laugh at his dramatic pout before leaning over the center console to press a kiss to his cool cheek. when you lean back, you can’t help but blush at his lovesick smile. you can’t contain your giggles, either, when he leans over, cupping your cheeks, and plants kisses rapid fire all over your face. you’re his favorite.

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - snowball fight

it begins outside, something innocent and wholesome as you and sunghoon step out to admire the snow. it coats everything in a thick blanket of white, and with one touch you realize it’s the perfect snow for make snowmen, or snow angels, or–you whip around in response to the cold hit to your back. sunghoon stands, hands in his pocket and gaze anywhere but you, acting like nothing happened. your shock quickly wears off as you ball up snow with your bare hands, hurtling it towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. it’s a short war that ends with both of you slipping and laughing at each other, noses red with cold. he’s never thought you looked more beautiful than right now.

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - snow angels

always one for fun competition, and because he loves to see the determination on your face, sunoo bets he can create the best snow angel ever. it’s a few minutes of walking around the park by your apartment, bundled up but already feeling the bite at your nose. after, your snow angels so close their wings nearly touch, you and sunoo take time to judge. you fake gag when he calls you his snow angel. your laughter is very much real when sunoo tackles you backwards. he’s only half kidding when he says you’re a snow angel. with a laugh like that, there’s no way you aren’t heavensent.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - baking treats

they say that baking is an exact science, but you and niki have proven that might be a fallacy. the inexact amounts of sugar, salt, and vanilla you’ve added to these cookies would make a purist cry, but as you sit on the floor side by side, watching the cookies slowly rise in the oven, you have a feeling it will work. and when you taste the cookies after they’ve cooled, you share a peculiar look. they aren’t good like a bakery, but they’re still pretty tasty. as you start researching easy icing recipes, brows knit in concentration, the feeling in niki’s chest tells he’s never eaten anything better. and he wouldn’t want to share these kinds of adventures with anyone else.

[honey-milk-depresso]

Hey, Honey~ If you were still accepting: The Prompt: Azul And/Or The Tweels interacting with a GN!Reader that overworks themselves to the point of burnout, but will do most anything but admit it? Can be formatted however you feel inspired, HC's, Oneshots, Gen. Interactions, etc ^v^

Congrats on 2.5K and many more ahead~

Heyyy- I'm on my woman day of reckoning for 5 days-

Octavinelle S/o's overworking themselves and doesn't want to admit

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul understands that everyone in life would go through burnout once in their life that even he does so too, but he isn't very keen to see you pushing yourself over the limit almost every day when you have work to do.

"S/o, I suggest you take a break. You've been overworking yourself far too much." "I'm not tired, Azul..." you muttered in response.

Azul frowns a bit. It's insulting if you think he can't see the dark eyebags under your eyes or dry lips through his glasses if you assumed he had "poor sight". He clicks he tongue, dragging your chair to pull you back from your desk.

"H-huh?" "My Pearl, I will not repeat myself again. Take a break, you're seriously tired." "But I'm not!" the dorm leader merely sighs, shaking his head.

"Pearl, please, I'm worried for you." "Don't be."

Azul's face contorted into a mortified expression. "Don't be"?! How can he "don't be" worried about you? You're his precious pearl, his darling s/o! Of course, he would be worried about you! Just as you were about to pull away, he tightened his grip of your chair, and pulls you back. "S/o... how can I not be? I care about you so much... how could you tell me to not care about you?"

The way he said it was genuinely sad, a bit offended that it made you winced. "I'm sorry..." "Oh don't be, I just want you to know I'm here for you," Azul gingerly wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you into his embrace.

He smiled when you immediately hugged him back and melted into his touch almost instantly. "Now, s/o, why not we give you a nice warm bath, hm?" <3

Jade Leech

He knows the feeling of burnout too well; night shifts taken up by him almost all the time, his duties as vice dorm leader have never been easy ones, and on top of all that, he has to keep up with his academic records.

The eel manages it all quite well, but he laments on the inside of how he would have little time to spend with you (and his mushrooms).

So, imagine coming into your room feeling bewildered as he sees you chained to your desk with your back hunched and hair frizzled, seeing you tiredly but furiously doing your work. He's been seeing you like this more and more frequently, and it's slightly mortifying that this has become your norm.

"S/o, I believe it's time for you to take a rest, no?" "It's okay Jade, I'm not tired." Well, that's just a lie. Jade is unimpressed that you think he can't see your obviously burnt-out state just scribbling away words and formulas on worksheets. "It's very obvious you are, s/o." "I swear I'm not!" you insisted, a pout on your face. That's not going to work on the vice dorm, no, no.

"S/o," he bends down, gently whispering into your ear as you blushed at the sudden close contact. "H-huh?!" "If you don't rest," he says, hands gliding down your arms as they finally rested on top of your palms, continuing in a sultry voice, "I wouldn't be so pleased..." You turned to look at him, his face solemn and serious with half lidded eyes staring right back at you with a certain firmness to them. You gulped as he sighs.

"I'm not angry, I'm concerned, my dear. It would seriously pain me to see you in such a miserable state. So please, take a rest, s/o." Your pursed your lips, sighing. "Alright."

Jade smiles softly, as he placed his palm on the small of your back, ushering you to your bed. "I'll make you some tea, wait here for me, alright? Meanwhile, be good and rest in your bed, okay? Fufufu~" <3

Floyd Leech

Floyd can easily tell when he's at the point of burnout and would immediately stop himself from doing so. It's rather surprising for Floyd to know of the dangers of overworking himself. Perhaps he has seen others around him who enter this threshold, or maybe he has experienced it before once and it was just the nastiest feeling he had ever gotten in his life.

Either way, he wasn't all the happy to see you slouched at your desk trying to complete all your work. "Hmm? ~ Shrimpy what are you doing? Is that your homework? Tomorrow's a Saturday, you know, you could just do it tomorrow." "It's not just homework, Floyd. Crowley gave me stuff to do, too."

Floyd frowns at this information. "Well, tell him to wait." "He's the headmaster." "So what? You're already tired, Shrimpy!" "I'm not." The eel huffed, already starting to grow frustrated. Seriously, Shrimpy? You think he can't see your half-dead state? What do you take him for???

Floyd doesn't say anything, he only extends his hand and grabs your chair, swirling you around to face him.

"Hey! What the heck?!" "Shrimpy." You paused. You've never heard him so serious before. "Go. Rest. Now." "I'm seriously not tired, Floyd." You tried to turn away, but the vice grip of Floyd left you futile in trying to turn your chair away, and the glare he sent you left you paralyzed and nervous.

"You should know better than anyone else, Shrimpy. Burnout's a thing you should take seriously and avoid. Otherwise, you'd be in a lot of pain, and I don't want that to happen..." Floyd blushes a little, frowning as he averted his eyes away. Never have you though your rambunctious eel would get serious with you. "I... thank you, Floyd." "So, go sleep."

Floyd scooped you in his arms, carrying you towards your bed as he gently plopped you down, before lying down beside you and wrapping his arms around you in a tight and warm embrace. He giggles, signaling he was back to being your regular ol' Floyd.

"Shrimpy, don't overwork yourself again, okay? Hehehe~" <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[octuscle]

The spirit of the previous owner

By the time he was in the cab, Connor had calmed down to some extent. He and his friend had had a terrible fight in their impressive apartment on Marylebone High Street. Not only had a Wedgewood plate or two been broken in the process, but his friend had almost pushed him down the stairs. Connor had loved this man more than anything. He had been his protector. And his stallion. He had felt safe in his presence. And had been fucked like he had never been fucked before. They had had good times. But now times were bad. All they did was argue, his friend made fun of Connor publicly, calling him a pussy and a faggot in front of friends. Yet it was Connor who had brought the money into the relationship. Through the successful sale of two startups he had founded, Connor had more money than he could ever use. His friend had only brought an imposing appearance and a huge cock into the relationship.

Connor had put up with it all, but now he was afraid his friend was going to seriously hurt him. He had been crying, locked in the guest bathroom of his own apartment on the phone with his best friend. And she'd been simultaneously Googling a realtor for a refuge for Connor. Even for people of Connor's budget, immediately available properties in London weren't exactly common. But his best friend had called him back after a short while to tell him that she had found something at least for the transition.

Connor hadn't packed. He'd just grabbed his coat, pocketed his wallet and keys, and walked out of the apartment. The "Yeah, fuck off you miserable faggot" that his friend yelled into the stairwell after him had certainly been heard by all the neighbors. He could no longer return to his old home.

He had never been to Brixton in his life, Connor thought to himself. And when the cab turned into the destination street, he had to swallow. Unadorned row houses, everything a bit run down. But the house the cab stopped in front of was actually the prettiest of the row. Freshly renovated, a bit disturbing was the large modern garage that had concreted over the entire front yard. But on top of the garage, as far as he could tell, was a large roof terrace.

The realtor was waiting for him in front of the house. An unpleasant fellow, nervously smoking a cigarette. Connor hated smokers. But all right now. They shook hands, the realtor opened the door and Connor entered. The first impression was good. Bright, tidy. The furnishings were new, but unimaginative from IKEA or something similar. But that could be changed. No art on the walls, but posters, some not even framed. The motifs are already good, Connor thought with a grin. Predominantly announcements of boxing fights. Pictures of crisp men. He had little love for the working class, but horny fella's they were.

The realtor began to explain when the house was from. That it would be sold fully furnished. Directly ready to move in. That there were plenty of other interested parties. That the price was a bargain. A voice inside Connor told him that was exactly what he needed right now. Connor said he agreed, if it was okay, he'd stay right here. The realtor's mouth dropped open.

Connor had emailed his financial advisor to handle everything financial with the realtor. He had taken the key and pushed the realtor out the door. This was his house now. He had never had a house to himself before. This was his castle. He took a deep breath and felt secure.

The realtor couldn't believe his luck. The house had been unsold for over a year. The previous owner had been shot in his living room. Some gangland war or something. It had taken weeks to clean up the mess. Still, all the prospective buyers had felt uncomfortable as soon as they opened the door. He himself, too. And now this slim young man with an almost feminine appearance came and bought the house. Without batting an eye. Without trading.

Connor walked through the house. It was quite spacious. There was a living-dining room with an open kitchen downstairs and a terrace with a small garden. Upstairs were two rooms and two bathrooms. One had obviously been used as a bedroom, one as a study. A man had lived here. On the walls posters with box motifs, of motorcycles. Almost no books. And the man had been sporty. In the closet were tracksuits, sports clothes made of shiny synthetic fibers, like those worn by the men on the posters. A few pairs of jeans, a couple of jackets. My God, the morning coats took up more space in his closet than his previous owner's entire wardrobe did here. But it was perfect that he had something to change into here at all.

Lastly, Connor went to the garage. It was impressive. More like a fully equipped repair garage. With three high-horsepower looking motorcycles. And with a long wall of cabinets that held motorcycle suits, leather jackets and pants, as well as mechanic overalls. Okay, so in terms of the amount of clothing, maybe there was parity after all….

While everything else in the house looked as if its previous owner had just been out exercising, on a motorcycle ride, or at the pub, the kitchen was empty. There were no pots or anything like that. Just protein powder and bars. A few bottles of water. And a few cans of beer. He was about to grab a bottle of water when a voice told him that maybe a beer was more appropriate for the occasion. He opened a can, poured himself a glass and sat down in the TV chair. After a few sips, he fell asleep.

It was already dark outside when he woke up. My God, had he had a wild dream. He had gotten into a boxing ring. And his opponent was his friend. And he had knocked him out with one punch. He couldn't get the other crap together. He took the glass of beer and drank it down in one go. Shit, it was warm and stale. And he was hungry. If he remembered correctly, there had been a kebab joint not far away at all. That was better than nothing now. He wanted to reach for his coat, but something told him that black oxfords and a brown camel hair coat didn't go with kebabs. Even though his shoes and jacket were too big, he grabbed a bomber jacket from wardrobe, slipped on a pair of sneakers, and headed out.

At first, Connor had considered eating the kebab at home. But he was really hungry and ate it right in the snack bar, standing up. And drank a beer from a can to go with it. If his sophisticated friend could see him like that. The asshole deserved a punch in the face, he thought to himself. And cringed at the thought. Although he was right. Back home, he drank another beer. That would make him tired. He had to go to bed now.

Since he hadn't found any pajamas or anything like that in the closet, Connor had slept in his underwear. And obviously he had had a very wet dream tonight. Heck, how much had he jizzed out there? The realtor had said something about a basement, hopefully he'd find a washing machine there. But now he had to pee first. "Hey, hey, hey, mate!" That hadn't been a voice inside him now. He heard a voice. "In this house, a man sits only to shit. Pissing is standing up!" Connor was transfixed. "Trust me, mate, I only want what's best for you. Now piss, jerk off your morning wood, and then get a fucking haircut. You look like a girl." Connor was way too perplexed. Besides, the voice made him horny. Powerful, masculine, but companionable. With a heavy accent. That's how the boxers on the posters had to talk. Connor cummed. But didn't hit the toilet bowl but the toilet lid. He wanted to wipe it all away with some toilet paper, but that's when the voice spoke up again. "Nah, mate! This is your house, this is your cum. If it bothers anyone, tell them to clean it up."

The voice was right, after all. He finally had to live his life. And the voice was also right about the hairstyle. Connor wanted to change some things, the haircut was a start. But who had put his clothes on the bed for him? T-shirt, jockstrap, white socks, tracksuit. And there was a message on his cell phone. With an address. And a terse text, "Ask for Stevie." The barber wasn't far away. Because he found nothing else, Connor had eaten two protein bars for breakfast. He hadn't showered. He assumed the barber would wash his hair. He grabbed his sneakers and jacket from yesterday, got dressed, and left the house. Crazy, but he felt like the shoes fit like a glove today.

Stevie was more of a Steve. A colossus who was inked all over. He didn't ask for what Connor wanted. Stevie didn't wash his hair. Stevie only did a haircut. And it took five minutes. "Eight pounds, mate," Stevie grunted, "and tomorrow at 08:00 sharp, please." Connor left the store confused. Why tomorrow? He looked in the shop window next to the barber shop. He wasn't concerned with the offers for new cell phone contracts. He was concerned with the reflection. He looked like a chav. He looked like most men who were on the street at this hour.

On the way home, Connor had done some shopping. A few convenience foods, a few cans of beer. And a few motorcycle and martial arts magazines. Once home, he went in search of the washing machine. The entrance to the basement had been moved to the garage after the house was remodeled. And yes, there was a laundry room in the basement. Also, a storage room. But most importantly, there was the basement room under the garage. He had expected a lot of things. But not a darkroom. Fully equipped with sling and St. Andrew's cross. And most of all, with a jail cell.

There had been no net in the basement. When he got back upstairs, he had ten missed calls. His friend. He turned off the cell phone. Still, he heard a phone ring. The ringing came from the jacket he had just put on. There was a cell phone and an anonymous caller. He picked it up. And the voice told him that he could use this phone for now.

Connor took the phone, sat down in the living room, and inspected the phone thoroughly. A carelessly maintained address book. Stevie, after all, he already knew. Otherwise, mostly just abbreviated first names or cryptic ones like "Weed" or "Ink." And under Connor was his own number. Nothing surprised him anymore. Although it was actually maybe a little early, he grabbed a beer and flipped through the magazines. Fuck, they were already hot fella's. Both the lads in the leather suits and the mixed martial arts fighters. Connor jerked off more than once. It made him even more horny to cum on his torso and rub the jizz in. Hell, he had all the choices here, why didn't he put on some of the clothes here to jerk off. He tried on racing suits, boxers and mechanic overalls. Every outfit made him horny. In all of them he cummed. By now it was dark again. The house looked like a battlefield. Clothes were lying around everywhere. He himself was encrusted by the many cum. And still not showered. Then he got a WhatsApp message. From a Nick. With a location. And whether he would like to have a beer. The location was quite a distance away. But why not? He was about to call a cab when the voice came on. How many more motorcycles did he need? He was supposed to get around like a man. Hell, yes! Motorcycles were his world. So Connor put on a suit that went well with the bright red Ducati, grabbed his boots, gloves and helmet and took off.

It had been a great evening with the lads. But keeping Stevie waiting was unwise, Connor thought to himself. As he pissed, he wondered if he hadn't been circumcised. But the massive cock he held in his hands was not. He spread half of his piss on the toilet seat. Fuck, it was his piss. Even if the way to Stevie was short, he took his neon green Kawasaki Ninja for it. Today Stevie took more time and shaved bald in the sides and neck. It looked really good. Connor slipped Stevie 20 pounds, said goodbye to the lads and left the store. Shit, he didn't have any cigarettes with him. So he went to the next store, bought some cigarettes and a lighter and lit a cigarette on the next park bench. While doing so, he checked his cell phone. He still had a number of unread messages. But one was brand new: "Mate, workout at 10:00?" "Sure thing," Connor replied. He got on his bike and intuitively rode to his boxing center.

Sure Connor was a lightweight. But he worked out hard with his trainer. And technically, he wasn't bad at all. After two hours, the two were through. Connor went back to the weights for two more hours. His dream was to build mass. He never wanted to be pushed around by anyone ever again.

So slowly a new routine came into his life. Get up at 06:00, run for an hour, visit Stevie, work out. And in the evenings, roaming the pubs with the lads. Maybe with an occasional fuck in the loo. His body was developing very neatly. He'd persuaded one of the lads from the kebab shop to clean up his mess three times a week while he was out working out. Marylebone High Street was a long way away. Just as he was sitting at Stevie's one morning, he got a message. "Appointment today at 4:00 pm." The sender was Ink. He looked in the address book. Yes, there was an address listed. So he headed there after practice. Damn, why hadn't the idea come to him himself and much earlier. He was the only one of his mates without a tattoo. For a start, a full sleave was quite a good project. At least for the next few days he now had a few new appointments in his calendar.

When the inking of his arm was done, he stood in front of the mirror in the morning after taking a piss. He really liked what he saw. He saw a man who fit the house. And the house fit him. While sitting with Stevie, it occurred to him to check the voicemail on his old cell phone. His financial advisor had told him that everything was taken care of. The house was paid for and his friend's existing powers of attorney had been cancelled. Some messages were from his best friend. He wrote her a message telling her not to worry, he just needed some extended time off. And many messages were from his friend. First nasty abuse, then eventually begging and pleading. Sure, without Connor's money he was nothing. Connor sent a message with his new address "Tomorrow at 8:00 pm." He awaited his friend leaning against the window frame. The T-shirt showed off his new tattoos well. With his hands deep in the pockets of his workout pants, Connor massaged his cock. And down in his darkroom, a couple of his buddies were waiting with bulging bladders for the new piss pig to move into the cell.

[kelin-is-writing]

slowly creeps around corner

i come with more angst >:)

so we've already established what it would be like if dabi is scared of touching you for various reasons but what if you are scared of touching him?

ofc you don't think the scars are gross or anything - you would never - but you can tell that he's in pain. he tries to hide it as much as possible but you notice anyway.

the way he wears loose-fitting clothes to prevent them from rubbing against the burnt skin and how he sometimes flinches when he accidentally touches smt on a bad day

so you avoid touching him bc you're scared it'll hurt him and dabi completely misinterprets your actions and assumes you think he's disgusting

when he finally confronts you about it (he's lowkey trying to break up with you to spare himself the pain of getting dumped by you) our poor baby might actually cry when you finally tell him why you do it :')

that's it. sry my asks are so sad lately lol 🧍

- 🥛

damn milk... you were seriously coming through with these angst asks like— why would you want to hurt me like this is truly beyond me...

like... you had noticed that recently, because the amount of times he had overexerted himself, by using his quirk, and that has made you worry to the point you sometimes couldn’t sleep well at night, thinking about how much in pain he might be.

so one day when you came across him, you right away walked up to the raven haired boy ready to hug him but remembering how only yesterday you overheard him hiss in pain as he changed into clean clothes, you stopped on your tracks right away and dabi would be so taken aback at seeing that you were about to put your hand on his neck but stopped midway with your hand stretched out, eyes full of panic fixed on him and an awkward smile petrified on your face before backing away with a little “hey...”, he starts to get super paranoid, thinking you’re disgusted at the idea of touching his scarred skin; his heart sunk at the thought of such a scenario, but nevertheless he acted like he hasn’t noticed your hesitation and instead of giving you the usual hug when you come to him, he just gave you a knowing bittersweet smile before brushing past you, leaving you behind, confused by such an action.

since you’ve noticed how that whole week he’s been in huge pain because of his scars seen the increasing amount of missions there has been recently and also the weather being a bitch, definitely taking a tool on him, you kept your distances for his sake but still staying near him.

that wasn’t enough for dabi though, because he didn’t only need you close to him... he needed to feel you close to him and right now to the arsonist you felt more far than you’ve ever been, even more than before you two started dating; your absence made him feel miserable, weak and lost, but he also understood (well... not really...) why you wouldn’t want to touch him. his rough greasy scars must’ve felt gross to touch and look at after all, so he couldn’t really blame you for not wanting to even brush against it, but it still hurt so fucking much because it was you and only in that moment dabi has realized how much important you were to him to the point he couldn’t breath when you weren’t by his side and that was dangerous, he wasn’t supposed to depend on someone so much and you deserved someone better in his opinion.

someone who would help you provide the bare minimum to survive, who wouldn’t put you in danger only because the two of you were together, who you wouldn’t be disgusted to touch, who could make you actually happy. and that someone, unfortunately, wasn’t him, because he’s a villain who has committed mass murder and is wanted across all of japan.

your life with him would be miserable, that’s why he ultimately decided to let you go, for both of your sakes.

so one day after he came back from another mission, and you went to welcome him, dabi waited for the others to be far from the hearing range before asking if he could talk to you about something important. feeling suddenly anxious, seen his face and tone, you muttered a small “sure...” following him into his room where he made you sit on his bed while the villain stood with his back resting against the door, hands in the pockets of his jeans and head hung low to hide the pained expression he had on “i’ve been thinking about this for a while now... i was a little hesitant at the beginning because you’re so damn important to me, but this is going to be for the best...”, were you tripping or was this speech leading to a... break-up?!

when you realized it, you jumped on your feets right away glaring at dabi upset and already on the verge of tears “no.”, he stopped talking looking your way like a lost puppy, sad eyes glancing into yours “don’t do this dabi.”, that was the first time you called his name so harshly and it made him widen his eyes for a brief second before he averted them, pointing the downwards, not able to hold eye contact with you any longer than he already did “why are we even having this talk in first place? i don’t understand...”, you questioned clenching tightly your fists resting long your sides, view becoming blurry as tears were starting to come up, you were so confused, disoriented and scared it was making you feel dizzy “you don’t understand? when you’ve been the one putting distances between us, out of no-fucking-where?”, dabi vented out never looking at you in the eyes, afraid he might waver the moment he locked gaze with you, you were the only one to ever make him hesitate and that was scaring the shit out of him.

you looked at him blinking furiously, confused as seconds went by, trying to understand what he was on about. when ever did you put distances between you and him? you weren’t understanding a thing about what he was saying “wait a moment, when did i ever put distances between us?”, you questioned resting an hand at the side of your head and lifting one up in front of you, to signal the boy to stop talking for a second because your brain just blew up from all that situation, before looking at dabi quizzically. he curled his lips turning away from you, bitter expression on his pretty face as he spoke “there’s no need for you to act clueless, i know you’re disgusted by my scars...”, the boy spat coldly, jaw clenching as soon as he finished what he had to say; damn... saying it out loud hurts even more than just thinking about it.

you were flabbergasted, to say the least, at hearing what he was saying “say what now?! i’m not disgusted by your scars though?!”, he let out a sarcastic snort before glaring you from the edge of his eye “don’t fucking lie to my face y/n.”, dabi growled between gritted teethes, making you whince surprised by the way he spoke to you, clicking his tongue as his eyes looked away from you, already feeling bad and guilty for talking that way to you; he just hates liars with burning passion though and maybe this was for the better, he could use it to push you away from him so you could let go of each others more easily.

pressing your lips together in frustration, you stomp heavily towards him and cup his face to force dabi to turn your way, eyes looking firmly into his cerulean ones “i’m telling you the fucking truth dabi.”, he’s taken aback by the confidence in your voice and the intensity of your gaze “i love you and your scars, so i better not hear you say such nonsense anymore.”, and as per usual, it took dabi only a few words from you to easily make his convictions waver.

the raven haired villain pressed his trembling lips together swallowing thickly, then his hands rested over yours, an anguish feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked at you with sad eyes “then why have you stopped touching me?”, the weakness and desperation with which dabi asked that question was so new to you, it made your heart sunk more though the way he had seemed so hopeless until now, like he was waiting for you to leave him and never look back “i miss you so fucking much princess...”, he whined with deep hoarse voice closing his fingers around your hand while leaning into your touch and turning his face to press his lips against your palm, kissing it with so much longing and yearning that all together with his words made you short-circuit as your heart skipped a beat before jumping up to your throat.

completely weakened by dabi’s current state you went for it and surrounded his bust with your free hand hugging your man tightly, surprising him “i miss you too pretty boy...”, at those words his heart fluttered even though he felt anything but pretty, still... when you called him that dabi couldn’t help get swayed, his free arm going to surround your waist and hug you even closer, if it was possible “i didn’t touch you because i was afraid of hurting you... you seemed so much in pain these days, i didn’t want to add to it...”, you confessed in a small voice, feeling tears prickling at your eyes as you buried your face against the crook of his neck, feeling right away reassured and happy to finally be back where you belonged, his lips parting from your palm and going to rest on your cheekbone “there’s no need for you to be afraid of hurting me, your touch and presence is everything i need to feel better...”, before kissing it lovingly as his hand went to rest on the crook of your neck, thumb brushing against your cheek tenderly “you just have to stay by my side.”, and his lips slid down to yours pressing against them longer than usual before he angled his head to interlock them with one another, tongue licking slightly your bottom lip sneaking inside your mouth to deepen the kiss.

dabi has been away from you a little too much, it was seriously crazy how much he had missed to feel you this close to him and as of now he can’t believe he had actually pondered about letting you go, when he needs you much more than he has ever thought he would have.

when you two parted your lips curled up in an happy smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you set your loving gaze into his completely lovestruck one “don’t worry, there’s no way i’m leaving you.”, and that’s everything dabi needs to hear before he goes to kiss you once again, mover fervently this time.

and you can bet that’s going to be a veeeery long night for you lovebirds 😚

[kuroneko1815]

Shatter me with a kiss or spare me my heart

Welcome to another instalment of El’s bedtime stories. This didn’t work and she proceeded to remain awake for another two or three hours. Anyway, this was based on the Descendants 3 song ‘one kiss’ that she sent me, so I guess kind of sleeping beauty. @eloise175 please go to sleep on time, or at least pretend to sleep after I send you a ficlet.

Penelope stared at Callisto, sleeping peacefully and deeply. Too deeply that it was unnerving. One would think he was dead. With the slow breaths he took, his pale countenance, and the slow beat of his heart. She was unused to such a quiet and still Prince. If anything, he was how she often wished him to be when he vexed her so.

‘Twas a curse from one of his enemies, they declared. Though she knew it was none other than his wretched, miserable, shrivelled up old stepmother who had long since chased away the emperor from her bed with her odious looks and personality that had caused this curse.

They all thought their relationship to be false and full of artifice, as though they had only put on a show. But she knew her feelings ran deep, as the saying goes ‘the course of true love never did run smooth’ or something of the sort. And Penelope loved him, loved her handsome, valiant, gentle, magnificently irritating lover of a dragon prince to the very depths of her soul and more. She would kiss him awake if only she knew it would work. If only she had any certainty that he felt even the barest of feelings for her other than amusement and fondness.

If he felt even the tiniest bit the way she had, she would kiss him true and break this curse. For surely her love would be enough to fill up what love lacked from him? But she was afraid to find out, to know, that she was nothing more than a whim and a moment in his life.

Outside those doors she knew Sir Porter waited to see his liege awake. She could walk out and lie, say that it didn’t work and let him sleep on forevermore, let her live with the delusion that he loved her and all she needed to do was gather her courage.

Or she could kiss him now. She could shatter it all, her delusions and her heart and kiss him to put an end to this farce and walk away from him and everything that reminded her of him. Let some other woman try their chance at being his true love, let her kiss be what woke him, her love be what healed the man broken by war and death.

She tried to imagine living her life in that delusion, that uncertainty always looming over her, that what if? Even if she walked away, she would never move on unless she knew. A broken heart she may have after this, she decided as she leaned closer, but at least she would have closure. Let this be the last then. “I love you, Callisto Regulus.” She said as she gathered what love she had in her for him, this insurmountably vast ocean whose depths were untold, fathoms and leagues unmeasured and unexplored, and put it all into one gentle kiss as she let what sadness linger in her eyes and heart, let a tear or two fall as she pulled away from her unresponsive prince.

So that was it then. She straightened herself. “Goodbye.”

And just as she’d walked two steps, a hand reached out and pulled her back, down she fell on to the bed and onto his chest, stunned and dazed as she looked at those piercing red eyes of the man who held her tenderly.

“And where were you to go, Princess?” He asked, voice hoarse from sleep and disuse. It had taken days for her to get the message and rush to his side after all. “I’d not given you permission to leave.”

“Your highness! You’re awake!” She cried happily, arms lacing around his neck. It mattered not that he couldn’t say it. Not yet at least. For she at least knew what he felt for her with the breaking of the curse.

Seriously though, if you have any idea how many plot bunnies, WIPs, and half finished chapters, stories, or instalments I have, you’d understand why I haven’t posted anything big recently. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. Stay healthy and safe everyone.

[until-another-one-comes]

Additional serial killer Francis headcanons part 6 tw for mental illnesses, murder, suicide, organs and a rotting corpse

Francis willingly works overtime not just because he doesn’t have anything better to do, it’s because he’s punishing himself. He wonders why he was ever born in the first place. For a person as deplorable and irredeemable as he is, he feels like he doesn’t deserve to enjoy life or find anything he likes.

Sometimes he steals an organ from one of his victims (e.g their heart, liver, stomach) to make it seem like a doppelgänger has eaten their organs. He’d wrap the organs up in a newspaper and keep it in his fridge for a couple of days before disposing them, either by burying it in some other place or grinding them up and throwing it away in the trash.

This is also just a general headcanon but a Francis has chronic insomnia due to staying up all night from his childhood abuse. This caused him to not get enough sleep as an adult. He became a light sleeper as he can only sleep for 4 hours before going to work again.

He always uses a different knife when he’s out to kill. Not his kitchen knives because he doesn’t want to contaminate themselves he’d get it from his victim’s kitchen or get himself a new set.

Francis’s room is very bare and minimalist. In fact, it looks borderline depressing. He doesn’t see the point in decorating it because his home is only a place where he can stay in and sleep.

He doesn’t celebrate his own birthday because a) he doesn’t see the point since it feels like every other day and b) his birthday is a reminder that he was born into this cruel miserable world.

Francis knows how to cook for himself. He’s decent at it since he only views it as a skill needed to survive since he had to grow up too fast in an abusive environment. He helped his mother in the kitchen when she was young and she taught him how to cook. It was quite a pleasant memory for him, at least when she didn’t turn abusive to him. The dishes he would make would be soup because it’s the easiest. He does put salt and pepper on his chicken but that’s it. He eats take out if he’s too busy but he prefers not to dine in at a restaurant because he hates being surrounded by people.

Francis can be manipulative if he needs to. When confronted with evidence that leads up to him, he’s pretty smart at gaslighting, “how do you know that knife belongs to me. It doesn’t have any fingerprints. And it’s not from my kitchen. You must be making a mistake here.”

Speaking of which, Francis wears gloves when committing his murders for obvious reasons.

Francis also doesn’t laugh. But when he does, it’s the most deranged, psychotic, demented, Yandere type laugh you’ll ever hear but that’s only when he’s at his breaking point or if he’s found guilty.

Francis feels at peace the most when he sleeps. It feels like the world isn’t out to get him anymore. One day, he dreams he can sleep forever and never wake up.

He has a plethora of undiagnosed mental illnesses such as PTSD and such. Unfortunately since it’s the 1950s, mental health wasn’t taken seriously and Francis hates opening up to a therapist so that’s why he leaves his mental health unchecked.

After crying too often in his childhood, Francis became prone to numbing his emotions after he had gone insane. But that doesn’t mean he’s immune to them. This is a new ending I will make where Francis finally takes his own life. As he grows older to his 40s, Francis’s mental health will decline tremendously due to the stress of his work, his unchecked mental illnesses and due to suppressing his emotions too much. He refuses to let himself cry or be happy anymore. It got so bad to the point where all his emotions flooded his heart at once that Francis had the largest mental breakdown in his life. He hates himself, he hates that he was ever born, he doesn’t wanna live anymore.

Francis will kill himself either by jumping off the apartment building or stabbing himself in his heart. If we go by the first option, Francis feels no fear from jumping off a high building. As his body hits the ground, Nacha will be the one to come across his corpse. She’ll cry for help and everyone will be in jeopardy when they see his body.

If we go by the second option, Francis’s body won’t be found until a few days later. A rotting smell will come from his apartment that will bother the residents of the third floor. Steven and Mclooy will be the first to find his body as they recognise the smell of a rotting corpse as they fought in the war. As soon as everyone finds Francis’s body, everyone in the building will be panicking over the sight of his rotting body.

No matter how Francis dies, nobody would come to his funeral and he’ll die all alone. Everyone will forget him and he’ll be buried in the most barren, coldest desolate place in the graveyard. Nacha and Amastacha might come to his funeral but that’s only a possibility.

(nothing much to add, other than I have the same cooking hc)

[nabicube]

Beginning of the Happy Ending: Prologue

Masterlist ◈ Pairings: ot8 x gender neutral atiny reader (lmk if sth isn't gn) ◈ Genre: non-romantic idol au, angst, fantasy (?), all ages (correct me if I’m wrong) ◈ Summary: In the depths of despair, your world feels like it’s crumbling around you—nothing seems to go right. The only source of light in your life, Ateez, is dimmed when your bias, San, suffers a life-threatening accident on stage. Just when it feels like there’s no reason to keep going, an otherworldly being appears with a chilling message: you have only 100 days left to live. But there’s a choice—if you wish hard enough, you can switch places with San and save him from his fate. The decision is yours, but time is running out. ◈ Warnings: Themes of depression and despair, mentions of suicidal thoughts, dysfunctional family dynamics, supernatural elements, mild violence, swearing, idk if this is a warning but brief mention of Felix from stray kids (he's my skz bias hehe) ◈ Note: This series is a non-romantic ot8 x atiny reader story leaning more heavily on San x reader because he is their bias. It will be a compilation of short episodes, rather than chapters, showing how each member would guide you through hard times in real life based on their personalities. The story is more focused on the concepts and ideas than the plot. While there will be no romantic relationships portrayed, members and the reader develop a bond that is beyond just friendship.

Prologue: The End

Word Count: 1365

All it took was a single, cutting remark from your so-called parents—a seemingly insignificant jab that shattered the last remnants of your self-worth. The final barrier holding back the tide of despair had crumbled. Everything seemed to be falling apart.

All your life, you were forced to constantly move around, leaving you with no one you would truly consider a friend. At least nobody who you feel like you can spill all of these dark feelings of yours. You were failing miserably in school, work, your personal life.

You were emotionally drained, just so exhausted. It felt as if you will never escape this hell. You didn’t know what you wanted in life, because you were taken away your will to hope for any kind of future. 

The last thing that was keeping you on earth was your love for Ateez and San, your favorite idols. They’ve helped you through the most difficult times. And now, they’re everything to you in your crumbling life. Their powerful performances, music, and kindness for atiny…they gave you a reason to live.

But then there was the constant judgment from your parents.

“You’re seriously into those idols? Aren’t you too old for that?”

“Why would you waste your time on that? Why don’t you work on your life instead?”

When they insulted them, it almost hurt worse than when they insulted you. You were used to being degraded. However, they don’t deserve to be judged when they have nothing to do with how you are failing completely in life.

But now, you were just so tired.

You posted about how you felt on social media, but as always, no one responded. Most of your followers were bots anyway.

Just as you thought things couldn’t get worse, a post flashed across your screen from one of the kpop news accounts—and the headline you saw made your heart sink.

-------

Breaking: ATEEZ's Choi San Suffers Serious On-Stage Injury During Concert

-------

No. No, No, No. This can’t be true.

Your heart pounded in your chest so fast that your whole body started trembling.

San, the idol you adored more than anything, had been in a terrible accident on stage.

Your mind spiraled into chaos. You searched frantically for updates on San’s condition on your phone, but the situation seemed dire.

Despair washed over you. The one connection you still had to this world, the one thing that gave you a reason to keep going, might be gone.

If San is gone forever from this world, what is the point of staying here alone?

Maybe this was your sign to end it all.

Your vision started blurring, and as the darkest thoughts had almost consumed your entire mind and body—out of nowhere, a reply popped up on your social media feed from an account you didn’t recognize. The icon was the default image, and the username was some kind of random combination of alphabets and numbers.

The reply, clearly directed to your username, read:

“You will die in 100 days.”

What the hell?

You were confused. It was so random, yet it seemed like this random stranger somehow knew your situation.

After the initial confusion, the anger that you did not know who to direct at started boiling up.

You were thinking of what kind of nasty things to reply.

What the fuck? Who are you even? I’ll die when I want to, not when you tell me to.

But just as you started typing, suddenly, a shiver went down your spine. You were terrified, and you had no idea why. Suddenly, you were not alone in this room anymore.

And then you saw IT. Floating in through your closed window without any noise.

Great. Now I’m hallucinating. My brain must really be breaking down.

The entity kept floating closer until it was hovering over your bed. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. The only thing you could do was freeze and stare at it with wide eyes.

Does this mean I’m dead? And this thing came to take my soul?

It was tall and impossibly slender, its body a mass of swirling, black tendrils that writhed and twisted like living shadows. Its form shifted in and out of focus, as if the creature wasn’t fully tethered to this world. The entire entity moved with an unnatural grace, like smoke drifting through the air, yet it carried an overwhelming presence.

But then the thing spoke. Its eerie, deep voice was terrifying yet surprisingly soothing at the same time.

“Hey, I’m the one that sent that reply.”

Kind of sounds like Felix from Stray Kids, you thought.

Wait - what the fuck did it just say?

You almost laughed, despite the fucked-up situation, just because while that line was very unlikely to come from a demon… grim reaper…shinigami? Whatever this was, it matched Felix’s voice better than Felix himself. Good choice, my hallucinating brain.

That Felix-sounding thing said slowly:

“You are completely consumed with the thought of death, aren’t you?”

You agree with that. The thing keeps going in a painfully slow, unsettling tone.

“While at it, do you want to make my job easier by switching souls with your favorite idol that’s dying? You could save him in exchange for your life, and I have one less death to deal with. Your body is going to die in 100 days, but…at least he’ll have another 100 days to live, and I get to procrastinate. You can die in his place now, or who knows, his body might survive. Even less work for me. Your choice.”

It took a while to process what it was saying. The product of your imagination seemed to be getting oddly specific and creative.

“W–What? Uh…what the actual fuck? Are you saying I can switch places with San? You’re giving me this power? Why? Why now? What’s the point?”

You can’t believe you’re starting to think this thing is real and trying to converse with it.

The thing doesn’t exactly have a face, but you somehow could sense it was irritated at your response. Its following words were spat out much faster as if it didn’t care to sound scary anymore.

“Um…did you not get the message? I’m fucking lazy. It takes like a whole day for me to process souls after a human dies, especially those by suicide. Oh, by the way…do you care to know how you’ll die in 100 days?”

The ominous character of the thing was slowly starting to fall apart into a more sluggish, human-like one.

“N—no! No, absolutely not!”

That seemed contradictory because you were going to take your life at any moment. But now, since there is a possibility that it could be the cause of death for San, you didn’t want to hear it.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” The thing says in an unserious tone.

Then suddenly, you remembered why you were panicking in the first place.

“I—I want to switch with San! How do I do it? I have to take his place before he dies!”

You were desperate. You were still not 100% confident that this was not your hallucination, but fuck it. You would do anything to save him.

“Just wish for it real hard. Then go to sleep. When you wake up, you’ll have switched.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to sleep in this situation!?” You snapped.

The thing let out a deep sigh. “Okay, whatever–Forget what I said, have a good night…” It said, floating towards the window, mumbling something to itself.

You panicked.

“W-wait! I’ll do it! I’ll try at least, so don’t go!”

The thing paused for a second, then turned your way and crossed its arms lazily, tilting its head, waiting for you to do your part.

You laid down on your side, squeezed your eyes and fists so hard that they hurt.

Breathing heavily, your mind raced, filled with nothing but thoughts of San.

His powerful yet sensual performances. His sweet, dimpled smile. His thoughtful words for atiny.

You kept thinking and thinking until exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster you had experienced, you finally managed to drift off to sleep. You were more tired than you thought.

[orions-choker]

+:★:+* Chapter Six: Damage, Inc. +:★:+*

Japan should have been fun. Touring the world should have been fun. Y/N had been stoked initially, to see the country that had founded some of her favorite monsters, art and shows. Instead she was fucking miserable.

She hadn't left the hotel room since they arrived yesterday, honestly no one had noticed. The boys coped with their grief by drowning in alcohol and Y/N had never felt so alone. They hadn't spoken in weeks properly to each other. On the outside they laughed and joked but there wasn't much to say to her. There wasn't much that could be said in general.

Kirk's absence in her life had hit her the hardest. When they were supposed to rely on each other he was off in strangers beds, fresh snow lining his nose. If he thought he was being sneaky about it he was stupid, or maybe he just thought Y/N was stupid.

The damage between all of them seemed irreparable and it wasn't made any better by a new unwanted presence in the band. Under no circumstances or in any universe could Y/N think of a reason Jason should have entered their lives. It wasn't his fault, as much as the boys sure acted like it was.

Y/N just couldn't bring herself to look at him. He was odd, out of place no matter how hard he tried to pick up the pieces. She felt guilty that she had put her wall up around him.

A light tapping at her door stirred her from the nest she had made on her hotel bed. Unbothered by the blankets tangled around her limbs she shuffled to the door, cracking it open as much as the chain across the lock would allow. “Oh, hey Jase, what's up?” She knew her disappointment was thinly veiled.

Nonetheless he smiled at her, a wide smile that left deep laugh lines in his cheeks. His curly hair was a little wild as he stood in front of her door eagerly. If she had been in any better spirits she would have wanted to draw him, just like this. He was gorgeous of course, you would be blind to not see it. “Hey Y/N! The guys wanted me to come grab you. We're heading out for dinner and drinks, they said uhh, you're not allowed to say no.”

Y/N tilted her head back with an exasperated groan. “Seriously?” She questioned, sighing in defeat as Jason nodded back to her. “Wait here.” She mumbled, shuffling back from the door and closing it. The blankets were dropped back into their pile and she scrounged around for a pair of jeans.

She stared hard at the mirror as she raked a comb through her hair. She really needed a haircut, it came down her lower back now, nearly her hips. She had just been too lazy to do anything about it. There were deep bags embedded into the skin under her eyes. She looked like hell and once upon a time she would have never been caught in such a state. Everything just seemed too pointless now.

Barely presenting as a functioning human, she excited her room to be greeted once again by Jason. “Alright lead the way Jase’” she sighed. Jason's soft smile at her crawled under her skin. He was too kind to her, too kind to all of them when all they had ever done was push him away.

Greeting the two of them in the lobby were the other three. Lars was the only one who greeted her as he would normally. “Man, Y/N you look like shit.” The grin on his face as he said it looked nearly demonic. James punched him in the gut.

She couldn't say anything, she did look like shit. Her eyes drifted to Kirk who noticeably ignored the situation, eyes locked on a chair in the lobby to avoid looking at her. Ouch. She followed them wordlessly onto the busy streets of Tokyo.

It was dark out, she hadn't expected it to be dark already. Her senses were overloaded by sound, neon signs and lights and the smell of fried street food. If she stood in one place she would be swallowed by the sea of people. She reached out grabbing her brother's hand as a lifeline.

James smiled warmly down at her, like they were kids again. He had only ever been two years older than her but had taken his role as her big brother seriously from the beginning. It was the first time she found herself smiling back.

“There she is, hello sunshine” He grinned at her, pulling her closer and ruffling her wild hair. She shook her head gently but the smile persisted. He slowed down, allowing her to catch up to his pace. For the first time in weeks it felt normal, a new normal.

Lars led the pack towards the restaurant they were heading to. To Y/N's surprise Kirk and Jason were…close? She wouldn't deny it hurt to see Kirk being his usual self with someone else, it was nice to hear his laugh. Jason was saying something, his words tumbled out too fast for Y/N to catch them, but she did catch the blush on his face when Kirk responded enthusiastically.

The restaurant seemed too fancy for all of them as they approached, however as they entered it was packed full of people. All loud, rowdy and drunk. She ended up sandwiched between James and Jason, sat directly in front of Kirk who still wouldn't look at her. She frowned again.

“Hey, what do I order?” Jason asked, leaning down to her with this menu in hand. “Kirk told me you eat this stuff all the time and I have no idea what this stuff is.” Y/N looked between the two boys, catching the way Kirk blushed. So he had at least talked about her.

She smiled kindly at him. “Sushi isn't for everyone,” she explained “avoid anything with raw fish for now.” She pointed to a couple of items shaking her head. Eventually after explaining everything on the menu to Jason he found something he considered palatable.

Kirk had become a vegetarian earlier that year, Y/N had honestly been so proud of him for sticking to it. She found herself slowly following suit, unsure if she agreed with the lifestyle or just wanted his approval. Despite not talking to him as of late she still avoided ordering anything with meat.

With their orders taken they all fell into a comfortable chatter. Y/N sat, curled into the seat as best she could, lips pressed tightly as she attempted to listen to two separate conversations. “Y/N what are you going to do with the week off in between us touring the states again?” James asked her, and suddenly everyone's focus was on her.

She shrank in her seat under everyone's gaze. “Well, actually I dont think I'm going to come with you guys again, I think I want to go home after Japan.” She mumbled awkwardly. Kirk sputtered around his drink.

“What do you mean? You've always come with us, what the fuck man?” It was the first sentence he had spoken to her and it was in anger. She flinched a little at his sudden outburst. She noticed the disappointment in James and Lars's eyes as she looked to them for help. Alone, again.

“I just, what's the point? I'm an extra person to book hotel rooms for, feed, and clothe? I'm not a member of the band.” She fumbled her words, hands tapping anxiously on the table. “You guys would hardly notice i'm gone.”

Kirk scoffed, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed. It was Lars who spoke. “We like having you here Y/N, you might as well be a member and we would notice, but it's up to you.” It was surprisingly sincere. Her eyes softened looking at him as he shrugged.

The thick tension was cut by the arrival of their food. Y/N was thankful to shovel the yam sushi rolls she ordered into her mouth to avoid saying anything else. From the corner of her eye she could see Jason eyeing a mound of wasabi on his plate, prodding it gently.

Kirk leaned forward with a grin. “Hey Jase, they gave you mint ice cream.” He declared. “You should eat it before I do.” Y/N's eyes widened. As Jason scooped a huge mound of it onto his spoon she panicked, slapping it out of his hand.

With wide eyes Jason turned to her. He opened his mouth to protest at her sudden outburst but Y/N interrupted him. “Dude that would have killed you!” She kicked Kirk under the table as he burst into laughter. “Not ice cream, wasabi.” She explained, taking a tiny amount on the tip of her chopstick and offering it to Jason.

Jason raised his eyebrows confused but leant forward taking the small amount into his mouth. Suddenly he was sputtering, rubbing at his nose, eyes watering. “What the fuck is that!” He asked, quickly grabbing his drink and downing it as fast as he could. Y/N couldn't help but giggle a bit at the reaction, imagining how much worse it would have been had she not intervened. From the corner of her eye she could see Kirk glaring at the two of them.

“It's really good if you like spice.” She explained, grabbing a large dollop and smearing it on her sushi roll. “It's kind of like horseradish?” She shrugged and popped the piece into her mouth. Soon the laughter from the others died down. The conversation that followed finally seemed to include her.

The rounds of drinks that were ordered seemed never ending. The pleasant buzz that tingled against Y/N's skin soon turned into the room spinning around her, her stomach churning as she realized she was far more drunk than intended. “Are you okay Y/N?” Kirk leaned over the table concerned, his hand reaching out to grasp hers.

Without thinking she recoiled back from his touch. “No m'not feeling good, wan’ go home now.” She slurred her words, leaning her head against James' shoulder. “Why do you care? You don’ care about me.” She grumbled at Kirk.

“Y/N that's not…let me walk you back to the hotel.” He sighed, pushing his chair back and walking to her side of the table. Gently he pulled her into a standing position. James looked over in concern, mouthing something at Kirk and receiving an affirming nod in response.

Shrugging his hands off of her, Y/N pouted. “No, I'd rather Jason take me.” She complained, the other man's eyes followed her curiously. “He's the only one who's bothered to talk to me lately, I don't like you guys very much right now.” as she said it she regretted it, seeing the hurt flash in her brothers eyes, Lars turning away from her with a grimace.

Jason stood up awkwardly, placing a hand on her arm. “I can take her, it's fine.” He smiled at Kirk. “I..actually I don't really know the way back to the hotel.” He admitted.

Kirk turned to the table again. “Me and Newkid will take her back, meet you guys at the bar across the street?” He was already dragging them out of the restaurant. He had never looked so angry and for some reason it satisfied Y/N, finally an emotion directed towards her that wasn't indifference.

“Why do you have to be suck a prick lately.” She provoked him further as they walked, stumbling over her own feet and only staying upright thanks to Jason's tight grip on her. She watched as Kirk's fists clenched and unclenched, willing himself to stay silent. Y/N continued her drunken rant. “Fuckin bullying Jason, fucking ignoring me, fucking this, blah blah, you used to be so sweet.”

They entered the lobby of the hotel in silence. As they reached her room Kirk finally spun around to face her, tears in his eyes. “Yeah I don't know if you've noticed, but life is kind of shit right now dude, we lost Cliff, we almost lost the band god forgive me if I'm not fucking peachy keen right now.” He snapped at her. Jason being the unfortunate witness to this took a step back, working on opening her door.

Y/N rolled her eyes, stumbling forward and catching herself against the wall. “Im supposed to be your best friend, im hurting too and you fucking abandoned me, why weren't we going through this together.” She poked at his chest aggressively before her arms were grabbed gently.

Jason steered her away into her open hotel room. “Okay, Let's get you to bed.” He mumbled. Looking over his shoulder at Kirk in concern. He seemed to sigh in defeat, following them into the room to get her into her sheets. Jason placed her down on the edge of the bed, Kirk grabbing a glass and filling it with water. “Just sit tight okay, watch some tv and get some sleep.”

Y/N groaned, slapping away their doting hands. “Yeah whatever, just fuck off, leave me alone, again.” She emphasized the last word with a glare at Kirk. She flopped back against the mattress, rolling over to face the other way so she didn't have to look at them.

The two men eyed each other wearily before stepping out of the room. The lights shut off leaving Y/N in complete darkness. The door was closed with a gentle click. She could hear the muffled sounds of their concerned voices as they walked away from her room. Thoughts of Kirk’s teary eyes and the uncertainty of her future with the band engulfed her until she finally succumbed to the heaviness on her eyelids and the tired ache of her bones.

[izunx]

Hii! Can you do a Luck fanfiction where he finds the reader crying? The reader is always cheerful and happy, but is secretly depressed. So he was surprised to see them like this.

LUCK with a depressed s/o

. In which luck finds his precious significant other crying. . warnings: depression.

✧.* luck x gn reader

Luck doesn't know where you are, which is rare. Usually by any moment right now you'd be in the black bulls lounge area chirping away at whatever antics you've been up to. But now that he thinks of it, it’s been ages since he’s last actually seen you functioning properly.

He feels funny. That feeling you get where you know just something isn't right and he hates it. He hates feeling this way especially when it's about YOU.

You were always one of the brighter ones of the squad, uplifting people when they were feeling down and discouraged. Now that he thinks of it, he doesn't think he's ever seen you get comforted but at the same time he's never seen you upset.

Is it possible for a person like you to even get upset?

The sobs he was hearing proved him otherwise though. As he walked past the hallways, he heard you. The hallways were dim but through the crack of the slightly open door he could see the bright lights shining through.

Much to his dismay, there you were sprawled out on your bed without a care in the world crying with a tub of sweets by your side.

"I don't have the energy for this Luck!" You threw one of the plushies HE got for you at him. He catches it and just looks at you in confusion. Is this real?

Because what he was seeing on your bed just couldn't be you right? Distressed and letting down all your guard, ultimately showing your tear stained face and horror blood shot eyes. It didn't just stop there either; you were gripping onto the sheets and suffocating your sobs into the pillow.

The state of your room wasn’t any better. It looked as if someone mistaken it as a rage room, it was abhorrent to say the least.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

You simply gave him a weak frown, "Not that you’d care."

To that he just frowns. Why would you doubt him like that?

"If I didn’t care I’d be a shit boyfriend." He sat down on your bed, encouraging you to begin on letting your feelings out. But you were stubborn.

"Just why would I do that? No one takes me seriously anyways" despite saying that, you sunk your head into his shoulder, grabbing onto his shoulder. "Where did I go wrong in life, Luck?"

The grab on his shoulder became more intense; you were biting your lips harshly and hid your eyes away.

"Everyone else got so lucky with their parents! I’ve grown up miserable with them."

Luck thinks back on it, you’ve never mentioned your parents before. But he doesn’t say anything. He needs to let your feelings out first.

"Not once since I’ve come here have I received a letter from them- after ruining my life they can’t even say sorry now that I’ve done what they’ve wanted and become a magic knight?" Now you’re a mess.

Your hair was sticking onto your face and you had salty tears streaming down your pretty face, staining it.

And Luck just hugged you. Held you close and comforted you whispering sweet nothings into your ear reassuring you.

"Everyone thinks I’m incapable of being sad but God you haven’t seen the worst!" You try and get out of his grasp, still hurt from your past.

"I won’t be taken advantage of again-"

"That’s enough Y/N." Luck held your arms and looked straight into your eyes.

"Every single member in this squad appreciates you more than you think, they adore you. They admire your will to strive and encourage other people and God do I love your stubbornness in our fights. I love everything about you."

You gawked at your boyfriend. He wasn’t done though.

"and lord do I love your smile so don’t let it be sullen with your past because now in the present you’re loved a lot." He gave you one of his smirks and it just made you cry even more.

Not so much sad tears but definitely you felt just a little bit happier.

Luck wasn’t so fortunate himself and he too was on his last straw but being able to fight people stronger than him and have you by his side was enough. He hoped it could be the same for you.

"I just always feel like this Luck and I just don’t know how I’ve managed to fight like this" He again took you in his arms and took in everything.

He understood you were depressed, unhappy with how you yourself was and he heard you out. Sat there the whole night taking in what you were saying.

It’s true at times you weren’t faking that smile, you enjoyed the moments with your boyfriend a lot. You kept all his little trinkets and treasured them.

You were snug holding onto the plushie he bought you on your first date in the city. It was unreal to you. You were loved and you thought it was just surreal. You held the thought close to you and you’ve grown to appreciate that fierce boyfriend of yours.

You can get used to this. Letting your feelings out wasn’t so bad after all. And although it would take time to heal, you knew Luck would always be with you through thick and thin.

[totally-not-deacon]

WIP Apparently-It's-Wednesday!

Tagged by @dalishthunder, and hitting up @singleteapot, @molliehaswords, @throughtrialbyfire and @electricshoebox if ya wanna have a go.

This is more a oneshot than anything, set a bit before ch6-ish in AR, but kinda stands on its own, based off the Missing in Action quest. It's a little long, so it's under the cut!

“You know we’re not getting paid, right?” he sniffed. “I don’t see why we can’t just… make something up and be done with it.”

“We’re not doing that,” Marasa said, her tone icy. Nebarra shot her an curious glance.

“What’s even the point? Snowback’s probably already dead, and the old hag just can’t accept it.” Seriously, she wasn’t actually planning on waltzing halfway across the province over a lost cause, was she? Surely she had to be a little smarter than that if she’d made it this far in life. He was beginning to have his doubts, however.

“I said, we’re not doing that.” Marasa stopped in her tracks, fists balled at her sides, choking down the urge to rip that stupid helmet off just to give him a solid blow to the face.

“There a reason you’re speaking for me now? I never agreed to anything,” he snapped back, crossing his arms and leveling an unseen glare at her.

“Because you’re such a self-centered ass, you’d rather bitch about coin than help someone for once.” She couldn’t believe him right now. Of all the times to be a stubborn jackass, he chose this one? “Maybe I have to.”

“The dead can’t be helped.”

“He’s not dead.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were a seer,” Nebarra sneered, his own temper rising to the challenge. Neither seemed to notice the wary looks they’d been gathering while they argued in the middle of the street. “If you are, then you should also be able to see what a stupid idea this is.”

“If they bothered to take him, they did it for a reason.”

“Yeah, the reason being he’s a Stormcloak.” Nebarra rolled his eyes. It was like arguing with a stone wall.

“And so were all the others we’ve seen rotting out in the wilderness.” Marasa willed her voice steady, only barely succeeding. “If they went through the effort to capture him, they wouldn’t be killing him. Not yet. They want something from him.”

“And you know this how? Taken many tours through Northwatch, have you?”

“I – I just know.”

“Uh-huh, like the hag just knows, right?” What had gotten into her today? That rotten milk drink of hers must have addled her brain or something, none of this made any sense. There was risking your life, and risking your life for free. Two vastly different things. “These knuckle-brains must be rubbing off on you. You’re going soft.”

“If all this bothers you so much, fine. Stay and be miserable. I’m leaving with or without you.” She wasn’t arguing about this any further. With that, Marasa shoved past him, marching towards the gates, not bothering to look back.

“And suicidal, too?” he called out after her, scowl deepening as she ignored him. Stupid elf was going to get herself killed over nothing. Nebarra stood in the road, seething, unable to uproot himself from the spot. Why did he care, after all? No. He didn’t, he told himself. It was just… frustrating, was all, watching someone he thought might have a decent head on their shoulders do one of the most idiotic things he’d witnessed in his living age. She simply refused to listen to reason. It was frustrating – she was frustrating, he repeated. That’s why he found himself stomping after her, shoving the gates open with far more effort than their well-oiled hinges required. He just… liked having the last word, was all. So what?

He caught the carriage just as the driver was climbing up to his perch, nearly throwing a small sack of coin at him before climbing in the back, opposite Marasa. She refused to look at him, furious stare burning a hole through the rough wooden floor. He frowned, catching how her hands seemed to tremble from where they dangled between her knees. It wasn’t that cold today, at least by Skyrim standards.

“Why are you so dead-set on all this?” Nebarra finally spoke nearly an hour later, assuming she’d cooled off by then. Maybe now he could get it through her thick skull, and they could turn around before they’d gotten too terribly far from town.

“Because no one…” There was no heat to her voice any longer, it cracked weakly. She finally lifted her head to face him, but it was different from before. There was a familiar, haunted look in her eyes, one he’d seen staring back in the mirror far too often than he’d ever like to admit. Marasa swallowed. “No one deserves that kind of fate.”

He said nothing, trying to ignore the pang of guilt he felt in his gut. There was something he was missing, wasn’t there? Something big. Something raw. She wasn’t going to elaborate further, he could tell by how she seemed to curl into herself slightly—guarded, wary. A cornered animal poised to bite if he kept prodding. For once, he decided to drop it, letting the carriage fall into relative silence, the crunch of rocks beneath its wheels being the only thing to cut through it.

The trip was just as tense as it was long, days spent dancing around the subject, neither keen on bringing it up again. Solitude’s windmill was just beginning to peek over the canopies, Dragon Bridge now well behind them. Time didn’t change his mind, he still thought this was a stupid thing to do, but there was no disuading her. Really, he should’ve known that already, well before they’d left Whiterun. It wasn’t like she hid her stubbornness, as if she could in the first place. In all honesty, that tenacity was likely what had kept her going – through the dragons, the endless jobs… the war. Sometimes he felt it put his own to shame, not that he’d ever tell her that.

“You do understand that the Thalmor will track down your friends and family, right?” Once again, he was the one to speak first, clamboring off the carriage after it stopped, their destination finally reached. He’d waited until they were out of earshot from any possible eavesdroppers. “You’re ready to throw them away for some Nord you don’t even know?”

“They can’t track us down if no one’s left breathing,” she said simply. They chose to forgo stopping in town, opting to begin the frigid trek to the keep, trying to stay out of sight of any Thalmor patrols. Even being seen in the area before they enacted their plan could lead to suspicion, and they weren’t about to take any more chances than they had to.

“We’re assaulting an entire keep. It’s far more likely we’ll be the ones not breathing.” Well, at least he’d been smart enough to keep his own identity under wraps. If he was lucky, that would be enough whenever he inevitably met his end there. Hopefully the farm would remain safe. They would remain safe. Gods, why was he even doing this?

“We take down literal dragons almost daily. A couple of Goldenrods is child’s play.” Perhaps it was overconfidence, but she knew how they operated, their tactics – they both did. It was a damn near suicide mission, yes, but with a bit of luck, they might just make it out intact. And hopefully with Thorald as well.

“Wow, really? At least come up with an original insult.”

“I’ve had to listen to you call me cannibal and tree lover for months now,” she smirked, a hint of playfulness behind her words. It disappeared just as quickly, replaced by a pensive frown as her bravado slipped. Her next words were quiet, more to assure herself than anything, “I’ve survived worse… I can, we can do this.”

[writingwarden]

The Quote Book

John 'Soap' MacTavish x Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Summary- Price and Gaz keep a document of funny things Soap and Ghost have said

TW- None that I can think Of

Word Count - 1,343

[A/N: these are actually based on mine and my friends quote books! Comment and feedback are always appreciated!]

The 141 task force always had its hands full. And most of the time it wasn’t the missions that caused the headaches, rather it would be the skull-wearing, pun-totting menace and his utterly obsessed demolitions expert who would set the entire base on fire given the first chance. So after many memorable moments with the duo, Gaz and Price decided it would be appropriate to create a “Quote Book” for them. Gaz’s reason was that they were just too unpredictable not to. Price’s reason was more wholesome. He wanted to keep a record of fun moments for the inevitable wedding that would occur for the two task force members. Here is a short compilation of the most memorable moments.

- -

They had just gotten back from a small scouting run that had unfortunately taken way more effort to complete than previously thought. It had rained the entire time ensuring they were all miserable for the entire duration. So when they had finally gotten back to a nice and dry base, Gaz hoped that they would all cool off their tempers in time for dinner. But he had never been lucky in his life, why would it start now? 

Heading down to the group's private kitchen/ mess hall Gaz had high hopes to finally get some nice warm home-cooked food in his stomach. One can only eat so many MREs before they’d rather eat dirt. When he entered the room he could feel the annoyance rolling off Ghost's form. Taking a quick glance around he noted they were all cleaned up and in casual clothing. What was weird is that Soap was sporting a white shirt rather than his usual blue or gray. Whatever, he probably didn’t have any clean clothes; Soap hated doing laundry. Gaz continued on into the kitchen where Price was turned to the oven cooking spaghetti. 

“Evening Gaz.” Price greeted over his shoulder. He moved to grab an oven mitt, pulling garlic bread from the oven. It smelled amazing.

“Sup’ Captain. Need anything?” He was in here already and to be completely honest, he really didn’t want to deal with what would surely be an explosive situation with Soap and Ghost. 

Priced turned to him, he was wearing an apron that read Kiss The Cook. It was a corny gift from the boys for Fathers day. Everyone jokes about Captain Price and his ‘overgrown sons’. Gaz smiled fondly, ready to make a joke at the captain's expense but was interrupted by the raised voice of Ghost from the dinner table. 

“How about I stab you.” There was seriousness in the statement. The next set of noise was  the clatter of a chair falling over and an audible struggle. The two men in the kitchen just looked at each other and sighed. Price began cleaning his hands, probably to get ready to break up the on-going fight.  

A plea in the form of a nervous chuckle came from Soap, “Aye come on L.T! Please don't stab me, I'm wearing a white shirt - my only white shirt.” Gaz walked around the wall that divided the different areas. The scene before him would be amusing any other day if it weren’t for the legitimate anger behind Ghost’s skull clad mask. Soap was holding his chair in front of him like it would deter the taller man. Ghost had rolled his sleeves up and his fists were clenching and unclenching, like he was trying to restrain himself from swinging on the sergeant. 

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before provoking me.” 

Ghost took a step towards the man trying to defend himself with the chair but was intercepted by the captain; a disapproving frown on his face. 

“You two can either take this to the training room or you can fix the mess you made and eat some damn dinner.” There wasn’t really any choice to be had. Ghost stepped back and picked up his chair. Soap put his chair back and they both sat down, refusing to look at each other. Gaz laughed under his breath, whatever, that's fine for now. 

- -

Gaz was on his way to the training rooms when he overheard/ encountered this:

The rapid chant of something could be heard coming from the rec room. As Gaz paused it began to take the form of: "Amongus Amongus Amongus Amongus Amongus Amongus Amongus." An unmistakable Scottish accent. 

Not being the one to miss out on stupid shenanigans, Gaz entered the room to see Soap sitting on the pool table with his phone in his hands. The man looked absolutely enthralled with what was unfolding on his device. The chant continued. That’s when he saw a movement from the corner of the room. Ghost was laid out on the couch, winding up for a throw, a book still in the hand about to be thrown. 

The book flew across the room, hitting Soap square in the back of the head. A bewildered Soap spun around and stared at the man, who still looked calm as ever. 

"Shut the fuck up Johnny."

Soap got up and grabbed the book, handing it back to the L.T and then sat on top of Ghost’s outstretched legs. Ghost didn’t do anything about it other than rest his hand on Soaps leg and continued reading. They hadn’t even acknowledged he had entered the room. 

So, Gaz turned on his heels and walked right back out. What the fuck had he just witnessed.

- -

Laying face down on the floor of a safe house somewhere in the middle of the woods was Ghost. And Soap, although he was much more animated than his counterpart. Price, who sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room could tell Ghost was exhausted. He could also tell Soap was about to start something. Soap crawled over to Ghost and laid himself across Ghost’s back, forming an X. If Ghost was annoyed he made no move to acknowledge it. They stayed like that for around half an hour if the clock on the wall was accurate. 

Eventually Ghost rolled over, taking Soap with him. Soap now laid on top of the man’s chest. Soap looked up at Ghost’s face and asked, “Can you even breathe L.T?”  

“Meh, I accept my death.” 

Soap grinned and Price could tell he was scheming. “Does that mean you accept this?” Soap moved his hands towards Ghost’s ribs like he was going to attempt to tickle him. Ghost shot into action, yelling “ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT I ACCEPT DEATH NOT A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH!” He threw Soap off him in the direction of where Price sat. Price could only shake his head at the man that now laid at his feet. 

- -

The sergeants of the 141 were talking in the meeting room while waiting for the others to arrive so they could begin the debrief. Contrary to the rest of the base’s belief, they were almost always the first to any meetings. 

Soap had been the one to start the conversation so he had to see it through. Gaz was droning on about some quarrel that happened with his neighbors while he was on leave. Soap sat there occasionally asking questions or making small comments about how the neighbor was in the wrong. 

All was fine until Ghost walked in wearing a tight fitting long sleeved muscle shirt. Suddenly Soap couldn’t focus on anything the other man was saying. It took Gaz snapping his fingers in front of Soap’s face to get him to pay attention. “Huh, yeah what.” Soap turned back to Gaz. The man wore a face that said that he knew everything. 

“What’s wrong Soap? A hot man enters the room and suddenly you can’t hear?” He teased, his eyes flitting to Ghost then to Soap. Soap was now bright red in the face. 

“Ah away and biel yer heid.”

- -

Now this snippet was heard over the coms by everyone.

“That's not how chloroform works.” - Soap

“No but that's how the lack of oxygen to the brain works, Johnny” - Ghost

[themoonsbride]

hey darling<3 i would love to request a fluff with peter protecting y/n when she's having an argument with dr brenner or someone from the stuff and he's like "touch her or say smth about her and i'll kill you"🧎🏻‍♀️😫

hello!! yes of course I can do that for you, thank you for requesting ! <3 I hope you like it/enjoy.

Protected.

Summary; Reader gets threatened by one of her co-workers for breaking one of the lab rules, Peter threatens their life as his way of protecting the reader.

warnings; mentions of murder, anxiety, and threats

requested; yes!

You roamed down the hall looking for the double doors that lead to the rainbow room. You were about to be late as you checked you watch and then began to walk at a faster pace to reach where you're meant to be as of right now. As you turned down the hall you'd bumped into one of the male orderly, you knew this due to the work attire that was clothed onto the person's slim frame. Though you didn't bother to look at whom you'd rammed into and only replied with a sorry as you continued practically running down the hall. The male you bumped into watched you turn down the next hall as he straightened out his shirt and fixed his blond curl.

You entered through the double doors and saw multiple of the children's eyes land on you, in response you smiled softly at them and flattened out your skirt with your hands as Alec looked over at you with an expression of disappointment and confusion. You stood in your place on the other side of the double doors since Alec was already standing on the left side of the doors.

"Where the hell were you?" Alec whispered over to you. you looked over at him with your brows furrowed a bit as you felt your nose scrunch slightly. You never liked him, he was such a teachers pet towards Brenner, well, more like a bosses pet then.

"It's not your place to ask Alec." You said as calm as possible even though annoyance was straining your voice like nails on a chalkboard. You tried to be polite but it was clearly failing as miserably as the staff were feeling here. Except you seemed to be the only one who thought I was just the tiniest bit decent. The children were nice to work with, though it mightve been because there were no other female orderly, atleast not that you've met or seen, or even heard of.

Alec scoffed at your reply as he rolled his eyes and went back to his duties of keeping an eye on the subjects and also zoning out whilst wishing he'd never even got hired for this damn job. The coffee was as pathetic as the orderly's efforts of caring about anything anymore. Yeah Brenner was a stuck up hag, but he could be easy to deal with if you just did your job correctly.

Brenner seemed to have taken quite a liking to you though, whether it was because you were well behaved, or because he thought you were pretty you weren't sure, but you just assumed it wasn't anything creepy, because you were well behaved, you did do your job the way it was meant to be done. You graduated highschool and collage and were pretty smart. There were more than just Brenner who'd seemed to take a liking in your smartness, not only just that but your beauty too.

You knew you were beautiful, your mother always told when you were growing up that you were developing into a beautiful young woman and would make something amazing out of yourself one day, she was right about beauty, not so much about making something out of yourself. Seriously, you were practically working inside of what felt like a mental hospital, not something most people would be proud of or call 'amazing'.

But there was a particular individual who seemed to catch your eye quite often. His name was Peter, and you guys were actually decently close, each day you grew closer and closer. Over time you'd find yourself thinking about him whilst looking over the children, or would catch yourself staring at him in the breakroom or in meetings sometimes. There were even a few incidents where you caught him looking at you before he'd quickly bat his eyes away and focus back onto what he'd been originally doing.

Peter was never typically one to open up or be talkative with people, and you didn't mind it at all, you used to be the same exact way in middle school and highschool. But it was because of your anxiety that you didn't talk to people and had very few friends. Even though you knew Peter didn't have anxiety, it could be difficult to find it in yourself to talk to the other people here, especially if it isn't necessary.

But when you were around eachother, it seemed like there wasn't any fear, or difficulty when it came to talking. You could tell him stories and things you've heard in your life and even just give him random motivation life advice and he would listen. He could listen to your voice for hours. And after awhile, he'd realized he fell in love with you, and wanted do anything to keep you out of dangers way. And he would too.

You hadn't even realized you were zoning out until you felt small tugs at the end of skirt, when you looked down, there was a small Eleven looking up at you with innocent dough eyes, and you just couldn't help but smile at her, she was your favorite out of all of them.

"Did you need something?" You asked her sweetly and quietly. she pointed over to a small bin of building blocks and took your hand as she lead you over to them.

She sat down on her knees as you sat criss cross infront of her as she took out the blocks one by one, when she finished she looked up at you again.

"Build." she said quietly, You were confused what it was exactly that she wanted you to build, so you just looked at her for a couple of seconds before grabbing some blocks and attempting to build a house with them. Once you finished you smiled at her, She moved one of the blocks slightly with her mind and they all toppled over.

She looked down at the pile of scattered colorful wooden shapes before sadness laced around her pupils.

"It's okay Eleven, why don't you take a turn building something." You spoke softly and she looked at you without moving her head, you smiled comfortingly at her before she looked back at the blocks and just decided to attempt to hand you one with her mind. You were confused again.

You just stared at her. She started at you. "What am I supposed to do with this sweetie?" You asked her. glancing at the other wooden pieces and at her. Alec watched the 2 of you from across the room, eavesdropping in on what you'd been saying to Eleven. 'Sweetie? what was she, your daughter?' Alec thought to himself. He didn't like how you'd been acting so kind to her like she was your daughter.

You'd never thought of having kids before, but that didn't mean you couldn't treat these kids with kindness right? It's the least you could've done for them after all. Besides, what's the harm in calling them cute names like 'Sweetie' and 'Honey'?

You just got odd break with Peter. You could feel your face was warm and a smile was curved on your lips, making your mouth muscles sore. There were butterflies tickling the inside of your stomach as they fluttered around inside your body. The way he'd make small flirty comments every now and again, how he'd look at you with his glistening blue eyes as deep as an ocean that you could drown in if you stared into them for too long. He felt like a dream to be around and to look at, his hair was always perfectly neat and done everyday, and his clothes were always pristine and straightened.

Later on that day as you roamed the halls during your break, someone from behind had called your name. You stopped abruptly and turned your head to look behind you, it was Alec. 'Great. what does he want' you mentally asked yourself feeling annoyance rush over you.

"What is it Alec" you said trying to hide the fact you didn't want to see him as a child would hide candy behind their back.

"I need to talk to you." He said somewhat sternly, You felt yourself groan in annoyance, he treated you as if you were 5 and didn't have common sense, it pissed you off dearly.

"About what?" you asked as he approached you, suddenly goosebumps crawling up your spine as you began to feel as though someone may have been watching the two of you, somewhere from afar where you wouldn't be able to see, you tried to ignore it as he stood infront of you, his facial expression seeming like a parent who'd just reviewed their child's report card that had F's and D's printed on it.

"You know you're not allowed to mother the children." He said, the sterness in his voice not leaving. "What does it matter? they don't even recognize they're being mistreated, the least I could do is make them feel like someone cares." You instantly reply.

"Someone who cares? Why would you even care in the first place? They don't 'regonize' that what your doing is wrong." He said harshly.

"What I'm doing is wrong? Have you not seen what goes on in this place? If anything Brenner is the one whose doing them wrong." You barked back and he immediately made you hit back against the wall, his hands that pushed against your shoulders were rough and hard. It caught you off gaurd as fear began to tremble inside your body.

"If you continue to mother those subjects, or speak of our boss that way again, I'll make sure you pay for it." Alec threatened you, You didn't exactly know how you were meant to react, but you knew you were scared. You'd seen how Brenner had punished Peter before. It was horrible, you didn't want to have to go through what he unfortunately went through, You hated this place and everyone inside it.

"Is that understood?" He asked glaring deep into your pupils filled with fear, his filled with anger. You nodded quickly and gulped nervously.

He quickly moved away from you and soon was out of your sight. You stood there in complete shock of all the events that just occurred as your deep scared breathing slowly regulated. Your head shook quickly as if you were trying to snap a thought outside of your mind to make it go away as you checked your watch and continued on with your day.

Later that night whilst you were sitting at your desk inside your bedroom, working on paperwork and filling out a few forms, you'd thought you heard something outside in the hallways but just decided to ignore it, assuming it was one of the night guards just working the night shift.

Peter was walking down a hall, as he checked his watch and took note of how his shift would be over soon, he searched for something, or more so someone. His blue eyes darted and scattered the halls like a wild fox looking for its meek pray.

He found Alec only a few moments later and straightened out his mind, clearing his thought process and began to walk towards him.

"Hey Alec" He said calmly. Alex turned his head to see who'd been calling him, his expression not changing much when seeing Peter as he was opening one of the storage closet doors, about to walk inside.

"Hey Peter." He replied simply as Peter caught up to him.

"May I speak to you for a moment?" Alec walked inside the storage closet as he spoke.

"Yeah, What is it." He said as he was rummaging through a box looking for something. The blond man unnoticeablely checked for anyone around before stepping inside and quietly closing the door, turning the lock slowly.

"Earlier today.." Peter said as his voice had suddenly deepened while he looked down at his shiny black shoes. Alec turned to face Peter, nothing the door was closed, but he didn't seem to care all that much.

"Yeah?" He said confused, waiting for him to get to the point, He never spoke to Peter, and didn't prefer to either.

Peter looked up at him as his now soft blue eyes had turned cold and hard, as he walked closer to Alec, making his back hit the wall just like Alec had previously done to you. He was extremely confused now and even a bit nervous, as Peter used what little power he could that his sorteria didn't fully block to start to choke Alec, it was only cutting his oxygen off by a small amount.

"Don't ever fucking speak to Y/n like that or think about getting that close to her ever, again. Or I'll kill you." He said clearly, sternly, calmly. He turned his head to the side just a tad bit as he'd threatened Alec's life, He just stared at Peter feeling terrified.

"Don't let Brenner find out about this either." Alec quickly shook his head in agreement, signaling he understood, he'd leave you alone, he'd live. Peter waited a few extra seconds before letting him go and simply leaving like nothing happened.

He soon approached your bedroom door and knocked, feeling his veins tingle as they hit the hardwood door. You got up and answered it, suprised to see him at your door.

"Hey peter, did you need something?" You asked while smiling at him a little confused, he stepped closer to you and kissed your forehead.

"No, I'm just here to say goodnight." He said looking down at you a bit as you stood there frozen in suprise and felt yourself become flustered as your cheeks became warm.

"Goodnight Y/n." He said smirking and closed the door, leaving you there with your face as red as a bundle of roses.