#to be reblogged onto the actual writing journal

[foxgloveinspace]

Me, going about my business, just chilling.

Brain: hey, what if I re-awoke your dormant DCU hyperfixation?? Like to the point of wanting to buy comics again, not just read fic??

[drabblesandimagines]

400 requests! joshuaxreader when reader suddenly kisses him. please ❤️

Thanks for taking part in my 400 Followers Event, anon! Hope you enjoy x Distraction Joshua Rosfield x fem reader, just good ol' fluff 658 words

Joshua thinks better when he thinks aloud, and even more so when he has an audience.

You’re sat together on a bench at the top of the Hideaway at sunset – you’ve positioned yourself with crossed legs, facing inwards. He’s mulling away, skipping back and forth between his own journal of writings and the annals of Moss the Chronicler that lie on the bench between the two of you, finding links and identifying areas where he wishes to explore more.

You’re mesmerized by his voice, how adorable you find it when his tone inflects in excitement when he pieces another part of the puzzle together. You wish you could take in what he was saying - Founder forbid if he asked you to repeat anything back! His face, usually pale of late, is full of colour this evening, the setting sun basking him in a golden glow and you are absolutely smitten.

“Mayhaps on Ash I’ll be able to see the mural in full at last – the Circle of Malius still is prominent over there after all, and just like Phoenix Gate I’m hoping an Apodytery will still stand…”

The mention of Ash makes your stomach squirm as Joshua continues his chain of thought aloud. Ash is Odin’s territory, where the last Mothercrystal resides too. They plan to set sail as soon as the Enterprise is restored and that day grows ever closer – Mid regularly sending reports. Worry gnaws at your chest, too close to your heart – both Joshua and Clive had not come out well against Barnabas Tharmr in the past.

“..I was thinking, instead of waiting for repairs to finish, I could prime and just fly over to Ash.”

“Joshua!” You gasp, looking at him in alarm. “You can’t-“

He’s grinning, boyishly. “I do jest, my lady. I could see I’d lost you to your own thoughts.” The Phoenix leans forward. “Forgive me. After all, you are kind to entertain me so as I muse, especially when I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.”

“Not at all.” You reply, softly. “I could listen to you for hours.”

“You shouldn’t tell me that – there is many a topic I can prove to be quite passionate about that others may find too dry. In fact, Moss the Chronicler commented that-”

He is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and you want him to be yours.

You lean forward then – you’re not sure why, a combination of the fear of what is to come, the way his eyes sparkle in the fading sunlight, the handsome smile on his face as he talks – and you cup his face in your hands. Without any further thought, you press your lips onto his.

There’s a horrible second when he doesn’t reciprocate and you know you’ve now crossed a line that you will never be able to come back from. You go to pull back, thinking already of how fast you might be able to descend the stairs, retreat to your bunk, but then his arms are wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and he is kissing you back - hungrily.

You move your hands then, resting one at the back of his head, fingers entangling in his blonde locks and the other runs up and down in his spine. He nibbles at your bottom lip before his tongue slips in, trying to explore every corner of your mouth and you don’t think it is possible, but you melt even more into his arms.

Eventually, inevitably, the two of you break for air, leaning your forehead upon his as you both try and catch your breath, sweet smiles on your faces.

“That is quite an effective way of silencing me.” He compliments in a teasing tone.

“Forgive me for ruining your train of thought.”

 He captures your chin then, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “Actually, I would bid you to do that far more often, sweet one.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-f

[coreene]

It's the 1 year anniversary of Lorelei's Journal! I can't believe it's been a year since I've started sharing this thing. When I started I had no idea it was going to take me this long to write it, nor have I thought how long it was going to be.

It currently has 194k words and 45 chapters! I have made it to act 3 but act 3, as we all know it, is an overwhelming chaotic mess but, I am determined to write it in a way that it can make some sort of sense.

I do plan to end it at 60 chapters which coincides to 60 in-game days, as each chapter is a day. Depending on the things™, it might get a little bit longer - we're gonna see what happens!

For those that do not know Lorelei's Journal is a rewrite of the game in journaling format and uses 1st Person POV. The main romantic pairing is Astarion x Fem!Tav and Lorelei is a half-elf rogue.

Act 1&2 are written from her POV, Astarion starts writing in act 3 alongside her. But I also have a series with one-shots, written from Astarion's POV (mostly 1st person).

And a post-game (non-canon) fluff series written for the Winter Fluffle of 2023.

This is not all I've done for this series however. I've also made a calendar and marked the events that has happened in the fic (and by extension the game) so far!

The Calendar of Harptos is the calendar used in the game and more info can be found in this post.

Now, if I move onto the OCs:

This is Lorelei (Tav)

Her name comes from the song Lorelei by Theatre of Tragedy. I haven't checked it very recently but if my memory serves me correctly, it is also the name of sirens in germanic mythology. (I also like the song Lorelei from Scorpions)

Her guardian (and also her old flame) Athedrin

I've created his name using the information I've linked in this post. It comes from mixing "tath" and "drin" which mean "blue, midnight, night" and "rogue, stealer" respectively. I like to think his name would mean "Midnight rogue"

And lastly, Lorelei's unfinished family tree (slight spoilers):

This one has a few spoilers but I doubt many people who decides to read this will make it this far on the post (or will actually read the fic). And it is also still a wip so the names and descriptions I haven't used in the fic might change.

My plan for its second year is finish up and hopefully start on the following stories I have been turning in my head for the past year.

Thank you everyone for reading this far, thank you everyone who liked, reblogged, kudoed, left a comment and was with me on this journey one-way or the other!

[trans-ralsei]

who the hell are you?

Well, first of all:

my name is ellis. i used to run a blog about politics in my home city. that's my main account, so this is an alt.

things i do in the home city: community organising? journalism? jacking off? graphic design? jilling off, if I feel like it

friends call me ralsei. you can call me ralsei too! i don't mind

we're all making it up as we go along

i'm a transfeminine, non-binary piece of shit that posts about anything I guess

you could call me a twitter refugee but i'm still on that shit app for work. also i'm on bsky, mastodon, threads, whatever. idk lmao i live here now, and have migrated my work persona onto linkedin

i AM kita ikuyo. i AM kita ikuyo. i am Kita Ikuyo. 私は喜多郁代 www 来た! さあ、行こう!

my profile pic is by @sadbocchi!

what will you find here? idk um. bocchi. succession. mcr destiel. yuri. yaoi when my partner likes them. uh whatever.

my partner is a big fujoshi/fudanshi and loves shipping men so watch out

I’ll try to reblog any yaoi my partner likes (spn, 9-1-1) with #the yaoi my partner likes to talk about so you can mute that tag

i am reblogging your posts. i am in your walls. i am reblogging your posts

this isn't actually going to be mainly a deltarune blog; i haven't played in a while. but i got into the game as I started transitioning, and I thought ralsei was a cool and relatable lil goat. i love her!!!

/related-links

trans_ralsei on Archive of Our Own ellis-island: writings on gender

[mim1alix-16]

2 - Rising Shadows

This is an 18+ dark!fic that will contain themes of violence, non-con, stalking, misogynistic views and mental health. I appreciate comments and reblogs. Follow to stay tuned with my fics.

It was the following week and that meant your next session with James, whom you were expecting at two in the afternoon. Soft lighting washed over your office as you entered; a family photo, a motivational quote and your credentials framed in light brown wood upon the walls. You had returned from your lunch break, a soft burp leaving you in a gentle croak, the taste of chicken katsu curry from the nearest Japanese restaurant to your workplace lingering on your mouth. You place your handbag, beneath your desk, but not before taking a swing from the iced peach tea you had purchased along with your midday meal.

You plopped down in your ergonomic chair, logging in to your computer, and began by finalising some emails before sending them off. You then brought up various patient reports and made sure they were up to date. You looked up at the clock to realise that James was due in just 5 minutes. The veteran was punctual, so you were not to worry about possible poor attendance. The knock of metal agaisnt wood sounded, which prompted you to say out loud ‘Come in!’.

James walked in quietly, carrying the notebook given to him last week, and sat amongst the pillows in the armchair. ‘Good afternoon.’ he smiled softly.

‘Well, that’s new.’ you smiled back. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to make the first step when it came to our greetings…Shall we begin?…How about I take a look at the notebook I gave you to journal in?’ You reached a hand towards him.

He gripped the notebook and shook his head, looking to the side ‘Actually’ he began ‘I’m not quite ready yet’

‘Oh…okay, but I do hope you’ve been writing in the notebook regularly James. Moving on, do you now feel comfortable re-telling your nightmares to me.’

His eyes moved to meet yours and he cleared his throat profusely. ‘Yes.’ he whispered and continued on. ‘My latest nightmare was…I was on a mission…it was a a stormy night, cold and dark with very few street lights along the road. I was on a motorbike, I believe. The aim of the mission was the assassination of a man who was at the top of the weapons and technology making game in the USA and arguably the world. Three gun shots, enough to take out the tyres and the car crashed immediately onto a tree.’

James took in a deep breathe before continuing. ‘I pulled on the brakes, bringing the motorbike to a stop there was a woman’s voice…she was crying and wailing in pain. I reached her side of the vehicle and choked her…slowly, then I delivered a swift gunshot to her husband’s skull…And I woke up. I’m always breathing heavily and sweating when I wake up from my nightmares.’ James then began to ramble. ‘They always feel horrible. I try to stop myself from committing the assassination, but it always feels like I’m moving against my will’. He began to breathe heavily, bringing a hand to his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut and exclaims. ‘NO! It’s always HIM!’.

You rose calmly but quickly from your desk. He was having a panic attack and you knew what to do. You pulled James’ arms down to his lap, ‘James, I need you to look at me’. The veteran opened his eyes and made eye contact with you. ‘Now, I need you to breathe with me…one breathe in…two breathe out…one…two…one…two’. Gradually, the redness reduced from his cheeks and the lines in his forehead lessened as James’ breathing returned to normal.

He closed his eyes in relief, but was still clinging onto you and your heart skipped a beat as he pulled you closer. Since when was he so comfortable with being touched? You wondered, but you brushed it off to him needing someone to ground him for just a moment.

He smiled and opened his eyes, steel blue boring into your mahogany brown pair. ‘You have such a calming presence, you know, it’s as if you’re the only light in my dark world’.

You chuckled slightly, feeling slightly uncomfortable. ‘Thank you, James. Let’s focus on how we can bring more light into your everyday life.’ You gently pried his fingers off of your hands. His hands were noticeably large and his grip was surely impressive. You sat back into the sofa and rubbed your thighs. ‘I’m so sorry you had to experience that panic attack, but I’m proud of how you were able to follow instructions to overcome your anxiety and I’m guessing we’ll have to tread more carefully when recalling your past experiences as the Winter Soldier.

James sighed and nodded in agreement, turning his head to you as you spoke up once more, saying ‘You know, James, life isn’t smooth for me either, you know, you’re certainly not alone in that regard. I’ve had my fair share of bad luck in relationships. Sometimes, it feels like I’m destined to be alone if I’m being honest with you.’

His eyebrows drew together as he mumbled. ‘I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be with you. You’re…special. Well, to me at least.’

At his words, you felt an uneasy flutter in your stomach but reminded yourself that it’s just his way of showing how grateful he is.

You walked out onto the car park after signing out at the front desk of the clinic, bringing a hand as you yawned from a long day of seeing patients. Your small, four seater car beeped as you unlocked it using the button on your car key and you pulled the driver side door open, placing your handbag on the passenger seat as you slid into your car and locked the door. The vehicle roared to life as you pressed the ignition button. Your foot pushed the acceleration pedal as you pulled the car out the carpark and began your drive back home.

Your neighbourhood was quiet, with tree-lined streets and a friendly atmosphere. Your two-bedroom house was of many new-builds which sat together, one beside the other, semi-detached. A nice home that you could afford to pay the rent for from your modest salary as a licensed therapist. You drove your car into the driveway, braking and pulling on the clutch before turning off the engine. A deep sigh left your chest, as you lifted your bag and exited the car.

You inserted your house key and brushed your feet against your door mat which said ‘Welcome’ decorated in flowers, before taking a step into your home. Almost immediately a thunder rumbled across the sky, and you smiled to yourself as you realised you weren’t about to caught in the incoming storm. You removed your coat and took off your shoes at the door. Your home was cosy but modest, filled with books, plants and a box in your living room which contained your crotchet equipment and creations.

Lightning lit up the darkening sky as you walked into your bedroom, opened your wardrobe and changed into your loungewear, following your firm rule that outside clothing must not touch your furniture or bedsheets. You shuffled into the kitchen and washed your hands. The dish you’d be preparing was basic. A buzzing and ringing sounded from your handbag in the hallway. You walked swiftly towards the source of the sound, and unzipped your bag. Your mobile read ‘Devyn’ with a heart at the end. You swiped to answer the call, lifting the device to your ear, ‘Good evening, Devyn.’

‘Hello’ she trilled. ‘How’s life?’

You smiled and walked back into the kitchen as the rain began to pour. ‘The usual. Going from work to home. Attending the occasional birthday, housewarming and making sure not to stay at a party for too long, and at the moment I’m just making myself some dinner. I literally got back from work like…10 minutes ago.’

‘Well, this might seem a little much but…I kinda have a guy that is really interested in going on a blind date with you and he’s exceptionally handsome too.’ Devyn giggled.

Your red-headed best friend of 10 years was a lot more extroverted and sociable than you were, and wasn’t ashamed to push forward the romance aspect of your life. She had her own boyfriend too, Marcus, and they were a match made in heaven in terms of personality. You shrugged. ‘A blind date? What could be the harm? Call me back when you have a date and time set Devyn, okay?’

‘Sure’ she agreed and hung up. You placed your mobile down on the counter and pulled open the fridge door. You finger hovered for second or two as you searched for the lasagna you’d meal prepped the night before. You pulled on the glass tray, tore off the cling film it was wrapped in and placed it in the oven you’d pre-heated as you were on the phone with Devyn, setting the timer for 30 to 40 minutes. You rubbed your hands in glee at the thought of savouring one your favourite foods, your mouth watering at the thought of the crispy cheese.

You moved into your living room and plopped down onto your beige fabric sofa, lifting the remote and playing an episode of a series on Netflix. Before you knew it it was 20 minutes till the end of the hour long episode when your oven began beeping. ‘Dinner time’, you thought excitedly. You grabbed the oven gloves and slid out the glass dish and placed it onto the stove. You were reaching to pull open the cupboard door to a pasta bowl, when all of a sudden you jumped at a sudden noise.

You rushed to the kitchen window and looked out to the front garden. Nothing there, although the noise sounded very close to your window. You remained at the window for a few seconds before closing your eyes as your shoulder slumped. You brought a hand to your forehead and rubbed at it. ‘Goodness’, you thought to yourself, ‘all that stress and overwork must be doing a number on me. Was that sound real or…no, I must have imagined it.’

You returned to the cupboard and pulled out a plate, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched.

[maaxverstappen]

I’ve been asking ppl cus im nosy. What’s your writing process like if any? Do u have a preferred place or time. Preferred device. Do u write rough drafts then edit or is it much more considered. How do u decide that an idea is worth fleshing out or pursuing if it looks like it’s plotty. Pls yap at length if u so wish — wiz

i love this question!! and would love to know other answers so if you want to reblog them i shall be on the lookout 👀.

i answered partly here so will just like build on that!!

the process is that i’ll have an idea and depending on how large it is write out some sort of outline. my preference for all planning in life is on paper so i have a little journal that ill write out some ideas in. kind of brainstorm / mind map style of just jotting down random ideas that come to mind.

however, with longer fics like my current post-as-i-go wip i have to do it digital bc so much changes and it’s too long (see pics in previous ask). that one i actually started planning in my notes app on a plane bc the idea had to come out of me someway and i was really excited about it. i then transferred it to a google doc and added onto my chapter per chapter outline (1st pic in previous ask). i felt like that was a bit overwhelming for understanding the overall plot so then i went and made a simple overview of the key plot points per chapter (the 2nd pic in previous ask) just so i felt like i had a better understanding of the goal per chapter.

now when i sit down to write a chapter ill get both the detailed notes and the main plot points and just write whatever i feel like in order to get to the goal of the chapter.

for shorter one shot fics i’ll either have no full outline or a one page idea list kind of thing. for instance, for worth the trouble i knew that it would start and end in the present time and then everything in between would be a flashback, but i didn’t know the flashbacks would be non chronological until i was writing it. same for the chewing gum aspect that ends up being quite an important part of the symbolism and that almost weaves the parts together, that wasn’t a *thing* until i was almost finished with the rough draft and i then went to add it in to previous scenes.

for my long fic i have to be a bit more calculated with the hidden messages/foreshadowing as i can’t go back and edit published chapters lmao so that is a little more thought out + i keep track of loose ends to tie together at some point.

editing is a bit of a harder one. for my long fic my overal editing is per chapter, but i do tend to go back and edit per section too. like right now I’m writing a texting scene and first i wrote the plain texting dialogue, then i went back to add the bits in between from characters’ pov. then i’ll read over it fully and edit where needed. finally when the whole chapter is done ill read over it and edit again, but at that point it’s mainly grammar and punctuation.

my main writing issues i’ve noticed so far is that i tend to switch tenses without realising so that’s something i look out for when editing. i also am always worried they don’t *do* enough so i like to think “hmm what action can i add in here to make them more human” when editing.

so far only worth the trouble has been beta read, the rest i do myself. if I’m stuck i will talk through a lot of it with my partner who will give me some ideas and just like help lmao (she’s also the one that beta read wtt!). but she’s not in the f1 fandom so it’s a little hard to have her beta read for characterisation and specific plot points so i do that myself. like when she beta read wtt she gave a few points of feedback that weren’t too relevant bc the average f1 fic reader would understand (like the significance of spa21, there is no need to explain it).

I’m a baby fic writer so a lot of my process will be redefined and refined as i go I’m sure.

as for deciding what to write, it’s really whatever captures my attention. the prompt for help me hold onto you is one i really liked and a trope i love reading myself. i was also ready to challenge myself to a longer plot fic and i was really excited about the idea so i just went for it! my main consideration is really just how excited i am for it.

i will say that i am currently really struggling with perfectionism / imposter syndrome. I’m having a hard time getting the words onto paper bc it feels like it’ll never be as good as my favourite authors anyway so what’s the point. (which is now also impacting the way i read fics bc it makes me sad that ill never write anything as good as what I’m reading lol)

i generally write on my laptop! in a google doc with grammarly activated and the word count on screen (which pisses me off bc i have to turn it back on after every refresh). i wrote my latest crafty!oscar on my phone (bc i was too excited to wait till i got to my laptop) but wouldn’t ever do that for anything much longer or plot-ier than that.

i fear this has gotten very long. i know u said yap away but …. i perhaps have yapped too close to the sun.

[fairy-writes]

For the 800 Follower Event - My second request

I have been in love with the song 'My Heart is Buried in Venice by Ricky Montgomery' and a lot of other pieces by him as well. The amount of times I've cried over this specific song is....a lot.

Specifically the lyrics below hitting way close to home when I was in a relationship. Feeling like you were the only one who loved the other can be even more heartbreaking than the break-up. (this was years ago)

"Say, say what you mean Tell me the truth or tell me you're through Oh, oh, oh, don't leave me to breathe Don't leave me to bleed For someone who chose to leave me be"

I know that I am asking for something rather...odd. But instead of it going the Viktor x Reader break-up route. Could it somehow be end happy?

Like if Viktor is on the outskirts of this debacle? Or the comforting friend-to-lover troupe?

I hope this wasn't super annoying >///<

Thank you

MY HEART IS BURIED IN VENICE

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends (2021)

Pairing(s): Viktor x Gender Neutral!Reader

Song: My Heart is Buried in Venice by Ricky Montgomery

Notes: I seriously struggled with this one. I hope it actually makes sense. I’m running on four hours of sleep after an eight-and-a-half-hour workday. 

This takes place after the Hexcore kills Sky.

__________________________________________________________________________

Viktor lay awake late into the night. He glanced over at the clock on your side of the bed. It ticked away on the bedside table, illuminated by the moonlight. 

2:13 AM. 

You were halfway onto his side of the bed, one arm tossed over his chest and head almost on his pillow. You were always like this at night, migrating from your side over to his in an attempt to preserve body warmth. No matter how many blankets you had on your side, you always told him he was warmer than any blanket you could own. 

It was something that generally made him smile. 

But not tonight.

Come rest your bones next to me

And toss all your thoughts to the sea

I'll pull up each of our anchors

So we can get lost, you and me

Eventually, Viktor couldn’t take it anymore and got out of bed. He slid the pillow that usually propped up his leg under your arm so you could still sleep with something. And he couldn’t help but smile as you held it close.

It was one of the many things he loved about you. 

My heart is buried in Venice.

Hidden beneath all my worries and doubts

My heart is buried in Venice

Waiting for someone to take it home

Viktor made it to his study down the hall without too much noise and turned on the lamp, illuminating the room in a soft yellow glow. He took a seat at the desk and pulled out a page from a journal set aside. 

It was the leather-bound journal you gave him for his birthday. Part of him felt terrible ripping out a page, but you always told him to use it for whatever he wanted. 

And he had to get this out of his system before he lost his mind. 

Even when you try to hide it

A smile creeps out from your teeth

I never thought that I would have to say I'm sorry

For anyone but me

The first try goes terribly. Viktor barely gets out a sentence before he crumples up the page and throws it into the wastebasket next to the desk. 

The second try doesn’t go much better. 

It’s by the fourth or fifth letter (he’s lost track) that he realizes he’s crying. Tears drip down his cheeks and stain the page, smudging the ink. And when he tries to wipe away the moisture, he just succeeds in getting ink on his fingers. 

Now my heart is buried in Venice

Waiting for someone to take it home

Why is this so hard? It’s just words on a page. Words he’s been stewing on for over a week. A week of agonizing about what he’ll say when he actually sits down to write this damn letter. 

He hears a noise down the hall but pays it no mind. He can check in a minute as soon as he starts this letter with the right words. 

Say, say what you mean.

Tell me the truth, or tell me you're through

Oh, oh, oh

Don't leave me to breathe

Don't leave me to bleed

For someone who chose to leave me be

“What are you doing up so late?” Came your tired voice. He turned and saw you standing in the doorway to his study, blanket around your shoulders. He sat back in his chair,

“I was writing a letter.” He said, tapping his ink-stained fingertips against the wood of the desk. You approached and pressed a kiss to his forehead, smoothing his hair out of the way with the hand that wasn’t holding your blanket around your body. 

“A letter to whom?” You asked, and he looked back at his tear-stained page. 

“To Sky.” He said, and your eyes widened marginally before they filled with such love he almost began crying again.

You lean down and kiss him,

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” You whisper, and he nods. He can’t find the words to say. He doesn’t know what he can say that he hasn’t already told you. So instead, he turns back to his letter, mind clear at last. He takes up his pen and begins to write.

My heart is buried in Venice.

Waiting for someone to take it home

Dear Sky,

I know I cannot apologize enough for what happened. I should’ve listened to someone, anyone, about the Hexcore and destroyed it before it caused damage. But I didn’t, and you had to face the consequences. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew about your feelings for me. I just didn’t want to face them. And that was cruel to you. And for that, I apologize. 

I had buried my heart because I didn’t want to get hurt. But in reality, I think I was just waiting for someone to take it home.

I just want to let you know that I’m happy. The Hexcore is gone, I have a partner who loves me, and I only hope to be someone you would be proud of. 

I hope you are at rest,

Viktor

[vaguelyprophetic]

It was a “5 things you didn’t say at all (stewy/roman)” post! It could just be a fault on my end but each time I click on keep reading it shows a blank page. If you still have it somewhere and would be willing to share I’d love to read it <3

OHHHH YES!!! that was a mini fic from a prompt list I had reblogged agessss ago. idk what happened to the actual post but I still have the draft in my docs!! so here you go :-)

5) Things you didn’t say at all

His therapist had told him he should try keeping a journal. Roman is one hundred percent sure that that’s some bullshit. He can barely bring himself to talk about his feelings with a professional, much less write them down and be forced to confront them by himself.

“Just give it a shot,” Dr. Rossi had told him. “A couple of weeks. Doesn’t matter how often you do it or how much you write, just that you write something, alright?”

Roman had reluctantly agreed, so now he’s sitting in front of his laptop, glaring at the empty word document in front of him.

They had agreed that he could type instead of writing it out. Actually writing in a journal feels a bit too fucking teenage girl for Roman’s taste. He’s not going to scribble his crush’s name in the margins and draw little hearts around it. He’s a grown ass man. He types shit. And it’s easier to hide shit on a computer. He doesn’t know where in the apartment he would hide a notebook that wouldn’t be at risk of being found. He knows Stewy wouldn’t go snooping, but he doesn’t know what excuse he could come up with to explain it. If he’s being forced to keep a journal, he would much rather have it on his laptop, buried six folders deep, the way he used to hide porn when he was a teenager. 

This is stupid, he types. He deletes the last few letters, then thinks better of it. He’s supposed to be writing down whatever he feels. And he feels that this is stupid. He finishes the word again. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to write about?” he had asked Dr. Rossi. 

She had considered him carefully for a moment, as if she was trying to figure out how to explain it in a way that wouldn’t piss him off. She spends a lot of time in their sessions figuring out ways to explain things in ways that won’t piss him off. 

“About how you’re feeling. What you’re thinking. Hell, you could even write about what you had for lunch. It’s just about getting words out of your brain and onto paper. Trust me. I think that once you get yourself to start, you’ll find that it actually feels good.”

Roman had stopped himself from saying that he highly doubted it. 

The word document is mocking him.

I’m not going to talk about my feelings. That’s stupid. It doesn’t make any difference if I write things down or if I just think them. This is a stupid assignment. 

Dr. Rossi hadn’t told him that he had to bring in the journal as proof. He kind of wants to, anyway, just to show her how fucking stupid it is. 

“Maybe you can write about Stewy,” she had suggested.

Roman had scoffed at that, but now when he thinks about it, he thinks that maybe it’s not such a terrible idea. As long as Stewy will never see it. As long as no one will ever see it.

Stewy is okay. I like him. He’s fine.

He lets out a long sigh. 

He’s always been really good at lying to himself.

He deletes the line and starts over.

I think I’m in love with Stewy.

Which shouldn’t be a big deal. It really shouldn’t. It’s NOT a big deal. That is something that happens to normal people. They fall in love, usually. Some people don’t. I didn’t think I would. Maybe I’m more normal than I thought I was. (Haha).

Roman taps his fingers lightly on the keys before he types: He makes me feel safe. 

It feels stupider to see it in words. He doesn’t delete it. 

He makes me feel like a real person. He makes me feel normal, sometimes. I guess as normal as I can be. He treats me like I’m normal. He doesn’t treat me like I’m broken or fucked up (even though he knows I am). He treats me the way I think you’re supposed to treat people you care about.

And, okay, yeah, this journal has already spiraled into teenage girl bullshit territory. Here he is, sitting in their bed—Stewy’s bed, he corrects himself—writing about his feelings. He almost wants to write Roman Hosseini as a joke. He doesn’t.

Okay so maybe I love him.

He asks the journal So what?, as if it’s judging him for the words he’s putting into it. Maybe it is. He definitely feels judged, but maybe that’s just him.

Maybe I love him. 

I love him.

Seeing the words in writing doesn’t make it feel any different than it already felt. So he was right—take that, Dr. Rossi. Writing them down doesn’t make a goddamn difference. 

He stares at the screen for a little while longer. The cursor is still blinking, waiting just past the period on the end of him. Roman tries to think of something else to say. He doesn’t think there’s anything else to add. 

So there it is, staring back at him. 

He closes out the word document, saves it as Therapy bullshit, moves it as many folders deep as he can, and shuts his laptop. He doesn’t want to think about how it will still be waiting for him the next time he forces himself to open the document back up. That’s a problem for future him.

He doesn’t think he’ll say it. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever say it. But it’s there, and it will wait for him, as patient as can possibly be.

[charlezarrd]

I posted 880 times in 2022

100 posts created (11%)

780 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-backspin-alchemist

@simplyghosting

@kirtini

@ultipoter

@lieutenant-sarcastic

I tagged 872 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#coolposts - 272 posts

#inspiration - 67 posts

#backspin - 63 posts

#tag games - 47 posts

#my writing - 46 posts

#novembeat 2022 - 44 posts

#novembeat collab - 42 posts

#ask games - 37 posts

#friend art - 28 posts

#golden sun - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#maybe i just need that data transfer cable but i don’t really want to leave it plugged into the headset while i’m moving around a lot yknow

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Lately I’ve been feeling in… A massive creative slump. And by ‘lately’ I mean the past couple years.

It seems like i can’t have an idea or start a writing project without abandoning it. Even as passionate as I was about SHY, i now feel nothing for it.

I actually do feel like that’s part of the problem, is that no one engages with my work. But then again, I have to actually make stuff for people to engage with it, so that’s kind of a catch 22.

There was also Dragon Ball: After Death, and a TMA fan story, too. Neither of which got very far before I abandoned them. Even some more original stories have completely faded from my imagination.

I’ve tried keeping a ‘writing journal’ where I write three pages every week of anything. I’ve tried holding myself to a small word count every day. These things worked for a short period of time before I just forgot to do them.

I really don’t understand why I can’t seem to gain any momentum on anything.

I know all the basic advice, “the best way to start writing is to start writing”, “the best writers read”, and so on. Anything you can just google, i know. I need something deeper.

Are there any writers out there that can help me? I really don’t know what to do.

6 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

#4

11/30/22 - In the Hall of the Golden Goddess

There it is, folks. The last entry for Novembeat this year. Hope you enjoyed. Let me know which one was your favorite if you want. Keep an eye out for @the-backspin-alchemist's music for my stuff, and I'll probably be making a masterpost for all this tomorrow, if I have time.

See you next year!

Or, yknow. Next week if you're following me here.

Lanter enters Tasimira’s hall, the gilded casino, with rows of gambling tables on each side of him, framed by golden pillars.

At the far end, on a throne of dice, sits the Goddess of Fate and Chance herself, as tall as five men.

“Well, well.” She says. “If it isn’t my delinquent proxy. Did you come to apologize for ignoring me, or did you just miss our face-to-face talks that much?”

“Shut your mouth.” Lanter tells her.

He stands at his full height, ready for a confrontation. He’s only able to make eye contact with her knee.

“Excuse me!?” She blinks, taken aback.

“I’ve met your sons, and I’ve met your daughters. Not all of them, but enough. I see through your facade now. I know you never intended to follow through on the deal we made, did you? It didn’t matter how much money I gathered for you, you never had the power to bring her back.”

“Now. The situation was fairly complicated…” Tasimira frowns.

“No. No, it wasn’t.” Lanter interrupts her. “Shut up and let me finish. You’re a fucking child playing with people’s lives. You had all the guts to stand up and declare yourself queen at the beginning of time, and yet, I have yet to see evidence of you actually wield that title with any level of authority or responsibility.”

“Hold on. To be fair, it wasn’t me that took your fiancee. That was entirely Nera’s doing.” Tasimira holds up a hand to stop him, as if defending herself from his words.

“And now you’re deflecting your responsibility onto the goddess of Pain and Death. If you were really going to act like a queen, you’d keep the rest of your pantheon in line.”

“What are you trying to get at? I’m a very busy goddess, so would you mind getting to the point?” Tasimira sighs.

He’s starting to get under her skin.

Good.

“That you’re either an incompetent fool of a goddess, or you’re outright malicious. Either way, you’re entirely unfit to be a goddess at all, let alone Queen of the Pantheon.” Lanter spits on the floor.

“How dare you. I won’t stand for such acquisitions. Why, I have half a mind to smite you in a thousand different ways this instant!” Tasimira glares at him

“But you won’t.” Lanter smirks. “Because you need me. I’m your agent of chaos, your rogue agent. I’m the wildcard. Without people like me, your ‘story’ falls apart. Whatever you want, you need conflict. It fuels you. You crave drama. And you need me to make that happen.”

Tasimira sighs, and slumps down in her throne sullenly. “Well, then what now? What will the ever observant Lanter Spade do next?”

“Whatever the fuck I want.” Lanter tells her. “Since I know you’re not gonna do jack shit about it. Next time you give me a mission or an order or whatever you call it, I’ll decide if it’s worth my time or not. Because now I see through your facade. And I’m not gonna let you fuck with me anymore. And boy I’m gonna make you regret making me your proxy. Because I’m the only person I know that’s more petty, more selfish, and more malicious than you are.”

With that as his last word, he turns and leaves Tasimira’s hall, flipping her off on the way out. No doubt she’ll be sulking about this one for the next few years, if not a couple hundred.

6 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#3

000000 QAN[T] Raiser GN Full Twenty Sword Final Battle GN Particle Accelerator Type

12 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

#2

$35 SD Sinanju kit.

Comes with all these extra really big parts for some reason.

20 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i’m honestly shocked there’s not a larger horror community here on tumblr.

I mean sure, yeah, all right, The Magnus Archives blewed up,

But what about Marble Hornets? That seems right up tumblr’s alley, where’s that fandom at?

And while I’m at it, where’s the Mandela Catelogue fandom? There’s enough going on there to speculate for years even though there isn’t much source material.

And you’re sleeping hard on Darkness Under My Bed, too, istg. Y’all like Markiplier but not horror games?? Bruh, Markiplier is what got me into horror games.

And for all the talk about “biblically accurate” this and that, i’m sure seeing a lot of not-the FAITH series by Airdorf.

Anyway, I think ppl should give some of this stuff a try. Or at least have their dark and mysterious cards revoked, if they’re too chicken.

22 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[plothooksinc]

Memelicious Part I

Tagged by @curiosity-killed!

Three ships: Wangxian is definitely the ship that is actually set fire to my brain; most other ships tend to develop via journal RP!  I’m not much of an active shipper, though-- most tend to be backburner “this would be nice if this happened-- OH HEY THAT’S NICE ART /reblog”.  Ah, hmm.  Nami/Luffy is a very popular ship and I love it, either romantically or platonically, they’re a great team.  Annnnd hnnm Nami/Vivi.  I’ve mostly ditched out of the OP fandom but I still have my favourites I guess.

First ever ship:  Showing my extreme age, I’m going to say it’s Mark/Princess from Battle of the Planets, a cartoon I watched when I was 7 years old.  (And then later found out this was actually bb’s first anime, just... horribly dubbed and butchered like they all were in those days.)

Last song: Every Day is Exactly The Same by Nine Inch Nails (also actually the first time I’ve heard it.  I’m trawling someone’s manufactured Spotify playlist for AMV ideas.)

Last movie: TMNT v Batman, which we watched for the lols.  It’s about as good as a TMNT v Batman movie needs to be tbh.

Currently reading: Way too much fanfic in both The Untamed and the TMNT fandoms.  (There’s two distinctly opposing tastes...) Away from fandom, I’m rereading Guy Gavriel Kay’s Fionavar Tapestry series.

Currently watching: Apart from dissecting the Rise of the TMNT movie for fic-writing purposes, I just finished the Spy x Family season and am watching MSG:  The WItch of Mercury.  I’m about to start Westworld.  And about to watch Rise again with yet another person who needs to see it. >>

Currently consuming: Nothing.  I last consumed a baked potato with taco mince and low fat cheese.  It’s my birthday this Sunday, I refuse to eat well.

Currently craving: the ability to carve scenes straight from my brain and onto the paper, because I just started writing for the first time in a long while and I know it’s only a matter of time before I’m exhausted again.  GOTTA WRITE WHILE MY MUSE IS HERE. (But also, a nice wholemeal muffin with some peanut butter.  That part, I can do.  Excuse me.)

tagging @akaikit, @gophersaurus, @janedrewfinally, @herthoughtswandered, @regnigt, @beanbagologist, @consultingjedi, @eggxalted, and @shadowbends (I think it was tag nine?   Do it if you guys like!  And if you’re not tagged and want to, do it anyway, consider this a tag.)

[getosugurusbangs]

OH MY GODDDDDUUHHHHH

i kinda wanna write another fic but i literally have no ideas on what to write about

[reyavie]

Here's a prompt: there's been found luxury objects from the Mediterranean and Gaul in Tintagel, suggesting how refined and wealthy their inhabitants were and the intense commerce in the area. The prompt is Gorlois gifting his family some pretty things

So I’m considering this my first entry to wordtober challenge (are we still calling it that?) and warn that it might not make sense because i’m apparently not that into sense today.

xxxXXXxxx

 There was a mirror in the lake. It was an odd lake, red and still in the middle of the clearing, seemingly uninhabited by fish or frog. Branches dipped onto the still waters, their large leaves barely touching the reddish surface, just a breath away from stirring it with the movement of the wind. Nothing moved, nothing lived and people wondered what it hid in those old woods.

There was a mirror in that lake. And the men who found it, daring to cross the water’s surface to reach for the silvery item did not know it had once been prized, loved, cherished. They did not know it had been melded in twilight and painted with dew. They did not know a fairy loved his little girls and wished to protect them, so he had weaved rays of moon and blood of his and the winds and flowers into metal, giving a little bit of him to keep close, when he could no longer stay.

There was a mirror inside the lake. And those men who found it did not know its story, did not worry over taking it away. Did not see the bloody colors of the water slip into a soft blue. They did not feel something snap and break as they ripped it from the floor beneath the water and the spell words once spoke lost finally their power as a small house appeared on its shores. An old house. A stone house, just as old as the woods it had been sheltered in.

There was a mirror within the lake. The children who once owned it became women and faded, the father who made it was stolen before his years had gone by and the mother who slipped it under the water had been broken beyond repair. But the memories remain, even if there is no one to remember them.

Strain your ears, dear reader, as you trail your fingers down its surface, the delicate flowers and the gentle curves, all drawn with a careful and steady hand. There is love there, isn’t it? Can’t you hear the laughter? Can you hear him singing to the three children, speaking of a foreign land, whispering of their roots, of their history, of playing and shifting and smiling underneath the boughs?

There was a mirror. In this lake, right here. And they lived, right there, over there, where the fog meets the earth and the music still rings.

[erodasfishtacos]

The Only Thing That Matters

Prompt (from kofi commission): Easton’s birth!

Word count: 10k+

warnings: angst, smut, childbirth, minors dni

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!

i write for FREE - I am also trying to steer away from paetron so everyone can have access my stories - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

authors note: i am so excited for you guys to read this. i worked my ass off on this! i hope you guys are a little SHOOK by the plot 😙

-

It unusual for the two to fight.

They weren't a couple who participated in pointless power struggles or irrational debates, just occasionally get annoyed with one another, if that.

It was unfortunate that one of their first major argument was occuring when they had so many exciting events happening in their lives.

College graduation was looming over them, after months of studying for exams, it was nearly time to take the finals.

Harry wasn't concerned about studying, finals weren't important to him, not with the draft ceremony only two days away.

YN had never seen Harry so high-strung or stressed out - he was usually very carefree and not worried about a single thing enough to make him on edge like he has been for the past few weeks.

His nose wasn't buried deep in his textbook for sports management, no, it was constantly on his phone to read articles and watch videos about the upcoming event and experts opinion on who was going to be first pick.

YN was not quite sure why he was so anxious, nearly 99.9% of predictions were that he was going to be the first choice.

It wasn't a secret he was already to be predicted to be one of the best players of all time, of course he was going to be picked first - any team would be idiotic not too.

It was the pressure that Harry was getting from every aspect of his life, his coaches, teammates, and the media.

The most upsetting part of this was that Harry had become so overly stressed out and pressured that he was drawn thin - he was constantly between working out, practicing, photoshoots, and interviews for ESPN and Sports Center.

YN can't remember the last time that he had gotten more than four hours of sleep, other than their 'date night' which was a evening they set baseball and studying aside to watch a movie with the promise of sex afterwards - especially because that wasn't happening quite as much with how exhausted Harry was.

However, not even fifteen minutes into the movie, he had his head tucked into the crook of YN's neck and was snoring softly with his shower-fluffy hair tickling her cheek.

She couldn't be upset because she knew how tired he must be, especially if he turned down sex because that had literally never happened before.

It wasn't anything they couldn't manage together, they tried to end up at least sleeping in the same bed at the end of the night - almost exclusively at the frat.

It wasn't until a day before they was going to fly from North Carolina to Miami for the ceremony and following festivities that things started to go wrong.

YN had three, yes, three final papers plus an article for a journalism class. The other two of her classes were comprehensive exams that took a lot of studying of all the information they learned in a semester.

Not to mention the journalism article that had been taking endless hours of research, interviews, and deep diving into archives of the library to get done.

It was always planned that YN would go with him, of course she would, he wouldn't rather have anyone else there to support him.

Not to be dramatic, but Harry knew that he would be marrying YN after the second date, it was just a matter of time before he bought her a ring.

He actually already had a plan of how he was going to propose.

After his first game in the major leagues, he would bring her out onto the field, just the two of them, and get down on one knee - fireworks lighting the sky right afterwards.

But plans rarely turn out that way.

YN had just stayed up for nearly sixteen hours straight, switching between studying flashcards and typing away viciously at one of the many papers.

Her lids were heavy, making it more difficult to blink at the bright screen, her stomach was in knots so she hadn't eaten recently.

Harry had been at a meeting with his management team, there was a lot of coordination that went into making sure everything went smoothly.

It had been an itching thought in the back of her mind that she wasn't possibly going to be able to go to Miami, not with everything due but she was still praying she could get it done.

Then that dream was obliterated into tiny, nonrepairable shards when her laptop died - unexpectedly.

She hadn't realized that the charger was not pushed in enough to provide the power to do so, which meant that she had just lost nearly four hours of work that her groggy mind had not saved.

Still hopeful, she quickly plugs it back in and pulls up her document again - only to be confronted with the thousands of words she was missing from her writing.

Fuck.

YN can't do anything for a moment but let her head drop in her hands and internally scream at the situation.

Tears build up from the frustration, the disappointment, but also the realization that she is definitely not going to be able to go to Miami.

Harry had been so excited, he'd been talking about bringing YN with him since they first started dating - over two years ago.

She knew he had set up dinner reservations, a couples massage, went out of his way to make this special for her despite the fact that the trip was supposed to be for him.

YN knew she needed to prioritize her education, she knew that Harry was her soulmate and she hoped they would get married soon but nothing in life was guaranteed.

She didn't work hard all of her life to get a good education just to be a trophy wife, she needed to be able to support herself if she had to be on her own.

Harry had also been on edge even more so than lately and YN knew this news wasn't going to make the situation any better.

The night unfortunately does not go any better after this.

Harry opens the door to her dorm room, his hair is damp from a locker room shower and his shirt is sticking to his skin from putting it on before he was completely dried off.

He had his practice duffel over his shoulder and an annoyed expression decorating his face, not the usual puppy dog excitement when he sees her after a long day.

"Why are you here?" Harry asks abruptly, voice rough from a long day of yelling - he doesn't drop his bag or make any effort to make himself comfortable.

YN looks at him, perplexed, why wouldn't she be in her own dorm room?

He sees the confusion on her face, huffing out like he's impatient he has to explain it to her, "I texted you like six times to meet me at the frat. I'm tired and don't want to sleep on your tiny bed. C'mon."

She didn't appreciate the attitude that was interwoven between his words.

She could understand and appreciate that he was stressed up but it didn't mean she had to put up with the backlash of it.

"I can't tonight, H. My computer died and I lost almost an entire essay that is due," YN explains, pushing back her chair from the desk so she can spin around and cross her arms to let him know that she meant business.

"Just come do it at the frat," Harry states, like it's the obvious solution, "I'm tired and I'm not tryin' to have a back and forth with you."

YN's eye bug at him in disbelief, scoffing as she says,"Then sleep by yourself tonight. It's too insane to concentrate over at the frat. I need to get this done."

"We need to talk about the trip," Harry replies, his tongue kissing the back of his teeth, "Figure out the details."

She takes a deep breath, it's not ideal to tell him right now when he's already crabby but she didn't want the guilt weighing on her for any longer than necessary.

"I'm not going to be able to go," YN's voice softened, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes as she looks down at her feet to avoid the hurt flashing across his face.

"What?" Harry drops his bag and strides over, he kneels in front of her, finger coming under her chin so he can make eye contact, "Darling, I've been a bit short lately. I'm just-"

She stops him with her finger brushing against his plush lips, "It has nothing to do with that. I just don't have enough time to finish all these finals if I go this weekend. I have to put school first."

Harry's eyes narrow, nearly into slits as he processes what she's telling him, pushing back to stand up, "I want you to come with me."

"I want to finish my college degree that I worked my ass off for," YN bites back, tears boiling over as anger sweeps through her body at his stubbornness.

"Why are you acting like you're going to actually need to work?" Harry asks in true bewilderment, "I'm estimated to be the highest paid player ever and this is what you're worried about?"

YN grinds her teeth because he is being so fucking obtuse right now, "I need my own livelihood, incase things dont work out. I'm not saying they won't but I need to be able to stand on my own."

"What the fuck are you even talkin' about?" He replies with more frustration than she's ever heard out of him off-field, "You know we're going to be together. I'll always support you, even if something happens."

YN throws her hands up in agitation, "I can't believe that you're being so dense. You care more about me attending this event than graduating from college. Do you even hear yourself?"

"Do you just not want to go?" Harry accuses as he stands back up and straightens his back - rigid and cold, "You should have been more responsible and had them done by now. Not acting surprised when they're due. You've known about Miami since last summer."

"I am so supportive of you, literally even second of the day. I don't appreciate your lack of understanding about this," YN tells him, trembling with a mixture of agitation and desperation for him to understand.

"Because I need you there with me!" Harry booms, louder than he's ever been with her, "I don't understand how you can't bloody see it! I literally planned three days of shit for us to do afterwards from massages to rooftop dinners and you're now refusing to go because a fucking essays you poorly prepared for."

A sense of guilt starts to sink into her stomach.

Even though she was angry at him for the way he's reacting to the news, she understands how much he must be hurting that she isn't going with him.

"Harry, your mom and Gemma are going. It's not like you'll be going alone," YN tries to remind him but his jaw is clenched and eyes fiery - past the point of conversation or reasoning.

"Right. Well fuck me for wanting the woman I want to spend my life by my side during the most improtant night of my life," He replies with a disgusting amount of sarcarsm laced through his words.

"You're being unreas-" She tries to argue but is cut off by his loud tone again.

"You know what. Have fun writing your essays. I'll see you when I get back from Miami," He cuts her off before slinging his duffel back over his shoulder and heading towards the door.

YN has tears streaming down her cheeks as she watches her boyfriend.

He glances back at her before leaving, reminding her, "I love you, more than anything but right now I am so fucking furious with you."

And then the door shuts louder than necessary.

YN finds herself wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweatshirt constantly through the night as she trudges through the essays.

She half expects Harry to come back, apologize and just hold her for a bit, maybe even a text message but nothing comes and that's how she knows he's more angry with her than he's ever been.

Miami was only a day away and her heart shattered when she realized that Harry had no plans on seeing her that day before he left.

YN ends up drifting off to sleep with her head resting in her arms at her desk, only barely conscious at some point to move to her small bed.

Harry is always the first one to text in the morning because he's always up the earliest because of his beginning of day workouts.

When YN rouses from her sleep, disoriented and just feeling off, out of habit she grabs her phone to text her boyfriend - realizing that he hadn't sent her one.

A wave of nausea hit her at that moment, having her flee from her bed to the bathroom to empty her stomach into the toilet bowl.

She stays there for at least fifteen minutes, trying to breathe through the turning of her stomach.

It ebbs after awhile, allowing YN to jump in the shower and clean herself up, she just felt absolutely awful - emotionally and physically.

YN chalked it up to the stress, the fighting, the amount of work she still had sitting ahead of her at laptop.

Throughout the day, YN checks on Harry through their 'Find My Friends', he's busy from his location changing to the stadium, gym, across town at his manager's office, talking to scouts, and she knows he's not purposely ignoring her except for via phone.

YN found herself running to the bathroom once more around noon due to her stomach just churning but she figured that the stress of everything was really getting to her.

Quite a few mornings over the past week and half, she'd been waking up with an upset stomach because of all the pressure of the semester coming to an end.

Since then, she'd been cautiously sipping on a ginger ale and trying to get her nerves under control so that it didn't happen again.

She can't lie and say that she isn't constantly checking her phone to see if Harry has texted her or called - she would be shocked if he actually left for Florida without another word to her, that would be too out of character for him.

And she's right.

It's nearly nine at night, her bum hurts from being sat at her desk for the whole day and there's still so much more work to do.

There's a knock at her door, a bit harsh, and she knows exactly that it's her annoyed boyfriend.

YN gets up to unlock the door, she's relieved because she thinks that he's forgiven her and he finally understands why she can't go.

Instead when she swings open the door, Harry who looks dead on his feet doesn't make a move to come in - his shoulders are broad and tense, he looks unhappy.

"Hi," YN starts but doesn't get her full greeting out before being interrupted.

"Did you finish all your work?" Harry asks bluntly, raspy and sharp, "It shouldn't have taken you more than the day, right?"

"H," She replies softly, "I'm sorry, baby. I really really am. I just can't go. It’s not all going to be done by tonight.”

Harry swallows harshly, jaw flexing as he processes her words, "I can't believe you. You know how important this is to me, how important you are to me. Can't believe you're really fuckin' doing this to me."

YN has never seen Harry this upset with her.

Sure, she sees him rage and act like an absolute nightmare on the field but when it came to them - they'd really fought, sure they got annoyed with each other but not like this.

"Harry, you're acting like I am purposely not wanting to go!" YN exclaims with a tinge of fire, her tone raising just the slightest at the offense.

"You know what, have fun with your papers. I'm glad that all your stuff is so much more important than me," He bites back, his eyes are livid and his voice is louder than hers now.

"Yes, I am so sorry I think it's more important to graduate college than go to Flroida for a weekend," YN replies sarcastically, her hand squeezing the doorknob.

"You bloody know I'm going to be first round pick! You fuckin' know I'll be making so much money I won't ever have to worry. Neither will you because it will be your money too!" Harry huffs out, his anger rising as his neck starts to flush pink.

"It's not just about money, H. I'm not going to stand here and argue with you. You're being unreasonable," She shakes her head, truly though, she justs wants to give him a hug and tell him she's sorry for letting him down.

Harry just stares at her for a moment, deciding his next words before saying, "I'm being unreasonable? I think it's pretty fuckin' reasonable why I'm upset but you've made up your mind apparently. Have a great weekend."

The last sentence was coated in a fake happiness before he's pushing off the doorframe and turning on his heel.

YN slams the door to get across the point that she's not in the wrong and she's just as angry with him.

When she finally shuts her laptop screen, it's late and she has a headache - she misses her boyfriend because this is the longest they've went without talking and she just wanted to sleep in the same bed as him.

But they’re both stubborn, she isn't going to fold on this one because she knows she is making the right choice for herself.

YN can't believe she forgot to set an alarm because when she finally blinks her eyes open - the now familiar nauseous rolling through her, it's nearly noon.

Harry would already be in Miami, getting his tailored suit on, and nearly ready to head towards the stadium for the event with his mother and sister.

As for YN, she's hunched over the toilet before she can even move to open her laptop to start her next paper.

When the pains in her stomach subside, over dry heaving due to her not even eating anything yesterday - she opens the lid of her laptop to finish her final paper for Sports & Media Journalism.

She opens another tab on her browser to pull up ESPN live television to watch the coverage on the draft pick - she wasn't going to miss watching Harry just because she was cross with him.

When she finds what she's looking for, she hits her volume as an advertisement plays across the screen for leak-proof tampons.

Her stomach sinks clear into the floor of her dorm room because something clicks inside her head that she hasn't had hers yet this month and she has been nauseous most mornings.

There's no way.

Is there?

Actually, maybe.

Now that she thinks back to about two months ago.

-

YN had usually taken her birth control pills religiously- rarely ever missed one or forgot to set an alarm to take it.

However, it was spring break and they were staying at Anne's house for nearly a week and they were both admittedly lax.

Harry and her had been sleeping in until mid-morning, sometimes into the afternoon, and lazing around by the pool or cuddled up watching movies.

It was a rare time he got a break from baseball.

YN usually took her pill as soon as she got up in the morning but sleeping in with her warm, sleep-soft boyfriend who wrapped himself around her like a vine was much more tempting than an alarm clock.

She knew better but hadn't thought much of it when she took her pills later than normal that whole week, notably forgetting to take them one of the days they were there and not realizing until they got home.

It didn't seem like a big deal at the time.

And YN knows exactly which time may had got her pregnant - if she was.

YN meant to remind Harry to pull out, he normally didn't have to because she was so responsible with the pill.

She meant to let him know that he should because she hadn't been that week and she should probably get back on track before he does.

It was the night they got home from Anne's, in Harry's frat bedroom because despite how horny Harry had been that whole week - the house was entirely too small for them to have sneaky sex.

The walls were thin, Anne's room was right next to theirs, and the room Gemma was in was on the other side - blocking them in.

The bedroom door didn't have a lock and had a tendency to drift open if there was a draft in the house.

Harry pouted like a little boy the whole time, begging YN to sneak into the bathroom with him or "Please baby, just give me your mouth."

But Harry can't shut up when he's receiving any kind of pleasure and the last thing YN wanted to do was get caught by his mother or sister in the act.

And so, when they got home from Anne's, Harry had carried their suitcases up to his room in the frat, taking the stairs by two in his haste - it was on.

As soon as they both were in his bedroom, he slammed the door shut so hard that the wood was trembling against its post and the metal of the doorknob was shaking in protest.

Harry lifted YN up, making her squeak in surprise as he sat her on his dresser - his lips capturing hers and his tongue pushing into her mouth without the patience to ask permission.

His hands were everywhere, acting like he's fucking starving as he barely breaks their kiss to yank her shirt and bra off of her, none to gently.

"Missed this perfect fuckin' body," Harry growled under his breathe as he roughly cups her breasts to bring to his mouth where he begins to nip and suck on her hardening nipples.

"Shit, H. It's only been a week," She giggles breathily as she yanks at the roots of his hair - making him moan through the sharp pain - slicking up her chest with his tongue.

"Need you everyday though," He emphasized as he pulls back to admire the marks he was leaving all over the softness of her breasts, "S'never enough, got the best cunt I've ever had."

YN gives his curls one more tug, enough his head bends a bit as she posessively murmurs, "Only one you've ever had, you brat."

Harry looks up from her tits with a toothy smile and sugary soft eyes as he presses their lips back together, "Yeah, yeah it is. S'cause you're my person, right? Been waiting my whole life to give it you."

"Don't have to charm me, already got me. C'mon," YN rolls her eyes, bringing their lips back together as his fingers curl into the waistband of her yoga pants and begin to pull them down - kneeling as he goes, lips trailing down her belly until she’s moaning with satisfaction as he licks up her center.

-

YN remembers only realizing they shouldn't have done that after the fact, when they're already in the shower cleaning themselves up.

She had brushed it off because she thought the likelihood of something happening was so low - she is starting to think that she is poorly mistaken.

YN doesn't realize that she is physically trembling until she's jolted from her stupor by Harry's name being announced over the speakers of her laptop.

She had zoned out, missed his whole introduction because when she looks back at the computer screen, she sees her devastatingly handsome boyfriend shaking hands with a few men before being handed a New York Yankees jersey.

Holy shit.

As she watches him accept his new team, his life is changed, he is moving forward to be successful as expected - he’s smiling widely on the screen, eyes twinkling, and they cut to Gemma and Anne tearful with pride for him.

YN was struck with fear that she just ruined something for him, scratch that not just something, she’s just ruined everything for him.

They were so so young.

Just starting their lives as adults and they were only twenty!

She had a mixture of confusing emotions stirring in her belly but before she tried to delve into those, she knew she shouldn't get ahead of herself before she took a test.

In her haze, she leaves her phone at home when she heads out to go to the drugstore - she picks one further off campus in hopes of no one paying any mind to her.

However, as she tucks the boxes into the crook of her arm, she hears someone calling her name and she freezes in surprise.

Niall is jogging up to her, a smile wide on his face, "Thought you'd be in Florida. New York Yankees, huh?"

He takes in her deer-in-headlights expression before his eyes dart down to the boxes that boldy indicate what they are and his eyes dart back up quickly.

"Please," YN whispers, feeling tears pool up in her eyes, she really didn't want to cry but she felt like this couldn't get worse, "I'm going to tell him bu-"

Niall cuts her off, his face soft and concerned, hand coming to her shoulder, "Hey, no tears, yeah? M'not gonna tell. It's your business, not anyone elses. Do you need anything?"

YN smiles watery, she loved Niall, he was such a good friend to both of them but she shakes her head and he tags along without asking any questions when she goes to check out.

-

When she gets back to her room, the event is still up on her computer and there is a decent amount of picks that have gone through already.

YN can hear her phone vibrating on her desk, she runs over - all her missed call notifications popping up, signaling that Harry had tried to call her multiple times in the past hour.

"Hello?" She asks into the phone, if she was in her right mind - she would have already realized that she should have called him and congratulated him on his achievement but she’d forgotten her phone.

"You're that fuckin' cross with me that you're not even going to call and tell me congratulations?" Harry bites out angrily before adding, "Been sitting 'ere, waiting for my phone to ring and nothing. Not one fuckin' word from you."

YN's mouth gaped open for a second in surprise, his voice was raised and sharp, it had a rumble that was from deep in his chest.

"I meant to call but -" YN tried to gather her thoughts, her mind was going every which way right now as she stared at the bright pink and blue patterns on the boxes in front of her.

"But what? There's literally no bloody excuse for you not to call me!" Harry bites out, his mouth sounds much too close to the receiver and she can hear muffled noises in the background.

"I'm-“

"Whatever, I'm not going to sit on the phone and listen to excuses. I needed you here and you didn't come. I bet you didn't even watch it, did you?" Harry accuses angrily, a tremble in the strain to keep his voice at a low volume, like there were people around.

"I did watch it," YN replies but she knows that she sounds dull, unexcited, numb because she's more concerned that she's about to ruin the life he just began than arguing over a phone call.

"Don't sound so thrilled," Harry scoffs - calling her bluff but the hurt is laced through his words, "Whatever. I'm not going to sit here and beg you to be happy for me all because of a little fight. I can’t believe you.”

Then the line goes dead.

YN feels like she's going to throw up.

She snatches up the boxes, going into the bathroom, and is ripping every single white plastic test out of the packaging before laying them next to the sink in preparation.

She had chugged a massive amount of water that she had purchased at the drugstore on her way home - which could have also contributed to her upset stomach.

YN stares at them for a long moment, she doesn't think her heart has ever raced so fast in her life because this will change the course of not only her future but Harry's too.

She sits down, does what she needs to do then reapplies the caps and places them on the counter as she sets her timer for three minutes.

YN tries to keep her mind blank but it isn't working - she knows Harry wants kids, wants kids with her but she also feels like this might ruin his dreams - getting this dream job and then dealing with the weight of the responsibility of a baby he didn't plan for with the woman he would resent because of it.

The shrill timer has her jumping from the edge of her bed, legs feeling like absolute gelatin as they drag her to the tiny dorm bathroom.

She looks at herself in the mirror, trying to convince herself that they'll be negative but when she darts her eyes down - they're all blaring the same word to her.

Pregnant.

YN's breath caught as she picked them up and examined the one with just the lines further before she let herself exhale, steadying her breathing.

She instinctively puts a hand to where her baby is being homed, a new emotion that she's never felt in her life crashes over her like a tsnaumi.

It was a warm, honeyed mixture of love, fierce protectiveness, and awe of what she and Harry had unknowingly created with their love.

Harry.

YN doesn't know what to do.

She doesn't know how he's going to take it.

YN rushes to her phone, picking it up to ring him and it only rings two or three times before he's sending her to voicemail and ignoring it.

It doesn't deter her, she's calling once, twice, three times before he finally answers out of annoyance of her persistence.

"What could you possibly want from me right now?" Harry growls in frustration over the line, a tone she’s never head him use with her, "Humor me."

YN freezes in panic, this isn't how she wants to tell him when he's already so angry with her.

What if he was planning on breaking up with her?

"I-I'm sorry," YN chokes outs, she feels like she might hyperventilate with the stress coursing through her body, the calmness that was there a minute ago disappearing, "I-I'm sorry."

There's a short pause.

"Baby," Harry breathes out, the softness that she's used to seeping into his tone, "Are you okay? I-"

"I can't-" YN stammers, squeezing her eyes shut and swallowing harshly, "I...I can't do this right now."

YN makes a rash decision, she hangs up the phone and presses the side button until the screen fades to black.

Then she's setting it on her desk, ignoring the fact that Harry is most likely desperately trying to call her back.

She couldn't fight with him anymore right now, not when she was having to process that she was growing another human inside of her.

YN feels the exhaustion of the past week and a half of morning sickness, sleep deprivation from finals, and arguments with Harry hit her like a ton of bricks.

Her eyes close the second her head hits her pillow.

-

There's a loud banging at her door which startles her out of her slumber, her bones feel heavy and her head hurts from the day.

She can tell time has passed because when she fell asleep it was only mid afternoon and now it was completely pitched dark outside of her dorm - the streetlights glimmering dully.

YN drags her feet, assuming it was mostly likely one of the frat boys who Harry sent over to check on her.

She knows she looks like a hot mess, face swollen, puffy eyes, and a bun that had her hair sticking every which way out of it.

"What do you want?" YN groans to get the banging to stop, unlocking and flinging open the door without another thought.

To her utter surprise, it was none other than her boyfriend who looked absolutely livid but at the same time, relieved that she was safe and okay.

He was wearing a New York Yankees tee and his normal athletic shorts and Nikes, his hair still nicely gelled from his television appearance earlier in the day - a bit of sunburn on his nose.

"What the fuck is going on?" Harry rasps, looking her body up and down, "Turning off your phone like that. What on Earth are you thinking?”

YN just...starts crying.

She buries her head in her hands and lets the sobs wrack through her body, shaking her head because she just can’t fight with him right now.

"Baby, baby," Harry responds, alarmed as he pushes himself into the room with her and shuts the door behind them, "Okay, darling. It's okay. I promise I was just cross, baby. Please, breaks my heart to see you cry like this.”

YN allows Harry to tug her straight into his strong chest, wishing that his warm scent could ground her like it usually does but it doesn't.

"I need you to talk to me. I need to know what's going on. You haven't acted like yourself at all today, sweetheart. I know I could have handled my anger better and I'm sorry, my love," Harry murmurs into her hair, lips brushing against her as he keeps her secured to him, his hand slipping under her shirt to rub at the warm skin of her back.

"Don't apologize," YN manages to spit out, "It's me, I'm...I'm messing everything up for you."

Harry pulls back until they make eye contact, his brow furrowed in confusion, "You're the best fuckin' thing that's ever happened to me. You've never ever messed anything up for me."

"Don't say that, please," YN whispers, shaking her head, "I have to tell you something."

Harry's eyes widen and an almost heartbreaking expression takes over his previously rigid one, "Baby...you didn't cheat on me?"

"God, Harry," YN can't help but wetly chuckle, "When would I have time? You're literally trying to get it every other second."

His face smooths out, a boyish smile appears for a moment until he's serious again, "What happened? What did you do that you think could mess up my life?"

YN lets out a loud exhale before detangling herself from him, she goes into the bathroom to gather the tests into her fist and swallows hard before coming back out.

Without making eye contact, she shoves them into his palm and watches nervously as the crease between his brow appears as he brings them up to examine them.

It takes him a moment before his eyes meet YN's, he says, "Tell me once again, how you think you could possibly be messing up my life?"

"I'm pregnant," YN whispers as if he doesn't have the tests in his hands, "It's not..it's not what you planned. you just started your career."

Harry tosses the plastic tests on the desk, striding towards his girlfriend, and hugging her so tightly that it nearly hurts before his lips on hers.

"Sweetheart, you're gonna give me a baby?" Harry asks sweetly, his eyes watering and he chuckles as he wipes away the tears that start to spill over.

"I am," YN smiles softly, unsure as she thumbs at the apples of his cheeks where his grin is so wide his eyes are squinted, dimples popping.

"How...How could you think I wouldn't be anything but excited?" Harry murmurs as his large hands start rucking up her shirt to palm at her belly, "Never been a secret that I wanted this with you. Always want you more than anything, that includes baseball."

YN buries her face into his chest, lets him rock them back and forth as she feels little sobs shake his chest.

"I can't believe we're gonna have a baby," Harry sniffles happily, "Never thought I was gonna find the one, you know? Wanted my whole life for you, didn't think you existed. Then you just come into my life and give me everything I ever wanted."

"You just started your whole life," YN still feels her lips quiver while Harry pecks them over and over again, hands rubbing over every inch of her tummy as if he’s saying hello to the baby.

"You're right," Harry agrees with a soft smile, he's trying to hold back a sob, "Got onto my dream team, got my dream girl, and now we're gonna have a little family."

YN shutters out a choked noise, shaking her head in denial still, "It's..It's...We're going to hold you back."

The curve of his lips drops, into something more stormy, his hands firmer on her hips as he makes eye contact, "Stop it now, okay? I want this baby. I want you. All of it. Nothing, nothing is more important than this."

YN nods in better understanding, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing their lips together once more, "We're going to be parents."

Harry brings her as close as possible, she can feel his heartbeat thudding rapidly in his chest like after a long game.

She's confused when he pulls back, keeping her at arm's length before he's kneeling down, "I don't have a ring right now but I'm sure as hell making you my wife as soon as possible. Gonna be my wife and have my baby. I don't want this with anyone else, baby. I'm so god damn in love with you I'm stupid with it. Please darling, please marry me."

YN knows the shock on her face is visible, she must pause for a moment too long because Harry begins to speak again but YN is giggling and saying, "Of course, I'll marry you," before she's stepping forward and knocking him over with how much force she hugs him with.

It ends up with Harry splayed on his back on the carpet of her tiny dorm room, with her on top, kissing him and tugging at his shirt until she can pull it over his head.

"Gonna give it to your fiancé? Gonna show me what a good lil' wife you're gonna be?" Harry rumbles, the arousal already setting into his bravado as he moves to take off her top - squeaking when she bites his lip at his cooing tone.

-

It's not the wedding she thought she would have with Harry but that was okay - somehow what they ended up doing was way better than anything over the top or extravagant.

It's at City Hall, the witness being someone who happened to be in the courtroom that day - YN was dressed in a simple white dress, Harry in the same suit he wore to the draft pick.

By this point, her bump was just showing at nearly four months, so much had changed in that short time.

They both had graduated with their degrees, relocated to a small apartment in Manhattan, Harry was already in the first season of his new career.

It wasn't the luxurious lifestyle quite yet, they still had to budget their money and make sure they didn't eat out too much because Harry had yet to make any major money yet (oh, how that would change).

They knew their families would be upset they weren't invited to the wedding but it was something they just wanted to do for each other and the tiny baby growing in her stomach.

Harry sobs like an absolute baby when YN says "I do" and when it's made official Harry has both hands on the sides of her jaw and brings her in for a deep kiss before one palm moves to cradle her belly.

-

Harry was just starting his second season of the game, as soon as he had been drafted - he had been thrust onto the field.

It hadn't been a surprise when within a few weeks he was starting pitcher and on the hitting line-up.

YN traveled with him to nearly every game until it wasn't safe for her to fly anymore as she reached the end of her pregnancy.

The money had begun to appear in their bank account at an alarmingly fast rate, making Harry a multi-millionaire overnight.

They moved from the tiny one bedroom to a luxurious apartment in mere months because not only was he getting paid to play, the commision from his jersey and other memorabilia, then he signed multiple contracts with different brands like Nike and Smart Water for millions upon millions of dollars too.

YN had never seen Harry happier, they were both thriving, and they were loving the little life they created in New York City.

He couldn't be happier with his dream job, his wife, and his little baby on the way - however, he did struggle on the occasions where he was traveling for an extended period of time and was away from her.

-

"How are you feeling?" Harry murmurs, it's dimly lit in his hotel room - he's exhausted from a long game and the anxiety of being away from his wife.

"Bub is kicking up a storm," YN replies with her own smile, she moves the camera until it's on her belly - obvious against her taut skin when an elbow rolls into her side, "They miss you."

It was the wrong thing to say today.

Harry begins to sniffle on the other line, YN pulls the phone back to her where she can see Harry's eyes watering and he's rubbing his face against the sleeve of his shirt.

"I hate being away from you," Harry mumbles, rubbing his eyes before looking at the camera with a guilty expression, "I don't get it. All these guys have no problem going out and partying after every game and all I can do is miss you and the baby."

YN doesn't think anyone in the world would think The Harry Styles, newly twenty-one, millions of dollars at his disposal, and available girls at his fingertips wouldn't be partying after an impressive game - no instead he's in his hotel room tearful about how much he misses his wife.

YN decides empowerment would be the best course of action to make him feel better tonight, so that's what she does.

"H, you're being the best husband and daddy, you know?" YN reminds him, wishing she could cuddle him in this moment, "Providing for your family."

Harry seems to hear that, smiling a bit and nodding, "Anything for you two. I'd do whatever I had to, to provide for you."

YN has no qualms that she married the right man.

-

YN is about a week and a half away from her due date, her ankles swollen and the baby getting uncomfortably large in their home.

Harry had a photoshoot for a Nike advert in Manhattan today for a new line of running clothes that he was modeling for.

She had accompanied him, making herself as comfortable as possible on a sofa in the corner of the studio - sipping from a water bottle as she watched her husband.

He looked so fucking handsome is the thing, changing right there in front of everybody - showing off his rippled stomach, the sharp vee that leads into his shorts.

She couldn't lie and say it didn't do anything to her because the pregnancy hormones - well Harry hadn't been complaining with how often she was trying to get with him.

-

Harry had a late flight home, he fully expected YN to have been asleep by the time he dropped his duffel in the entryway of their flat.

However, when he trails into the living room, he's surprised by her sitting on their sofa, looking at him expectantly in just a tee of his and some soft-looking panties.

"Hi darling," Harry murmurs, his voice soft and low but she didn't look an ounce of tired as her eyes looked him up and down, "Not sleepy?"

"Mmm, was waiting up for you," YN agrees before casually tacking on, "So that you could fuck me."

Harry's eyebrows nearly shoot into his hairline, a warm zip of electricity making his cock twitch, "Baby, are you--"

"Don't," She complains brattily, heaving herself up and off the couch to trail over to him, wasting no time in getting his shirt off before he gets with the program and is taking over.

Harry groans loudly when his hand dips down into the front of her panties, "Fucking shit. This for me, sweet girl?"

"Please, m'so ready," YN huffs, not wanting any teasing like she usually does, "Harry, please. Stop messing around. Just want it.”

"Jesus, you're so fucking hot," Harry rumbles as he gently pushes her back onto the couch until she's laying down and he can crawl ontop of her, smiling more fondly when the large bump of her belly prohibts Harry from pressing himself against her like he wants.

“No, not like this,” YN complains after just a moment, pushing a confused Harry up until she can rearrange them until he’s sat up and she can lower herself down onto him to get deeper.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry gasps when she sinks all the way down, his mouth moving to lick at her sensitive and puffy nipples as she begins to lazily grind back and forth.

She isn’t rushed, completely lost in her own arousal as she moves her hips every which way to find where she can get the most friction on her clit and where he’ll be hitting her spot.

“No bloody wonder m’obsessed with you,” Harry remarks breathily when she begins to pick up the pace of her movements, eyes shut and head tilted back, pushing her chest further into his mouth as she mewls at her oncoming pleasure, “Never seen somethin’ better than this. All full of my baby, riding me like you own me. You do own me, baby.”

-

YN is taken out of her dirty daydream by a sharp pain to her side, it’s not like her usual jolts from when the bub kicks her too hard or throws an elbow.

Instead, she’s panicked when a gush of fluid seeps through her leggings and begins to drip down her legs - for a moment she thinks she wet herself until she realizes her water just fucking broke.

YN’s frozen for a moment, Harry’s currently giving the flashing cameras a dazzling smile in a mesh top and matching shorts.

The ache she felt moments ago resurfaces but feels more visceral this time, making her toes curl at the pain that radiates through her whole body.

She doesn’t feel like she can stand up, not without help, and there’s no one right near her but she doesn’t want to cause a scene by yelling for him.

After another contraction rocks her, it’s involuntary when she cradles her stomach and lets out a low moan of pain that has everyone turning their head to look.

Harry’s rushing from the white backdrop, over to the couch to knee down, when his hands come to rest on her thighs he notices the wet fabric underneath his fingertips.

“H,” YN whimpers, reaching to place her hands on his shoulders, “The baby’s co-coming,” She stutters over a contraction.

Harry goes into serious husband mode, “Okay, okay darling. We have to get you to the hospital. You’re doing perfect already. Let me help you up.”

YN gets to her feet, gripping her husband’s forearm hard when a cramp radiates through her stomach, and Harry just presses his lips to her clammy forehead until it passes.

-

“Alright, honey. I need you to push on three,” The doctor at the end of the bed instructs as the nurses flit around to prepare for the arrival of their child.

YN nods, holding Harry’s hand tightly as she pushes as hard as she can for five long seconds before slumping back down onto the bed and panting.

“Okay, we’re gonna give you a minute break then try again,” Dr. Dicer instructs before smiling reassuringly at the young couple.

“You’re doing so good,” Harry murmurs against her temple, pecking all over her sweaty face and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, “You’re so so close. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

“I just want our baby,” YN huffs between gasps of catching her breath, “Just want our baby, H.”

“Soon, soon we’re gonna have them, huh?” Harry smiles happily, his hands were shaking with nervousness and excitement all in one, “We’ll have our baby. Be a family.”

“Yeah, we wi- ohh,” YN cuts off in a groan, scrunching her face up and crying out, “I have to push. I can’t stop-“

“It’s okay, mom,” The doctor reassured her, settling back into position, “The baby’s ready to join us. Only a few more pushes than you’ll be parents.”

Harry’s eyes widen when he looks down to see brown wisps of hair as the baby begins to make its entrance into the world push by push.

“Darling,” Harry’s lower lip is wobbling as she bears down to give it all of her might and he nearly chokes on his own breath when in the next minute the doctor is holding a squirming, unhappy crying baby up.

“It’s a boy! Congratulations mom and dad,” Dr. Dicer announces before laying the baby boy on YN’s bare chest as he lets out little bouts of wails.

“Oh my god,” YN giggles between tears, her fingers coming to touch the baby’s strands of damp hair before tracing over his tiny facial features, “Harry, baby. Harry, look.”

“I’m looking,” Harry sniffles, his thumb coming to rub at the baby’s forehead before the nurses swoop in to perform all the necessary tests, “He’s perfect, he’s so fucking perfect. Look how good you did. Did such a good job at giving us our baby, mama.”

It’s the first time the nickname slips from his mouth but far from the last time.

After he’s cleaned up, giving a clean bill of health, and done with their assessments - the nurse asks Harry if he’d like to have skin-to-skin contact.

YN has to chuckle to herself, in her hazy mind as Harry takes off his shirt and the two nurses' eyes widen when they see what’s hiding underneath- checking out his chiseled chest down to where his happy trail leads into his shorts.

It’s forgotten when Harry sits in the chair next to the bed and brings his son to his chest, the baby’s cheek resting against his pec as Harry rubs down their back.

And he just loses it.

Harry’s full on sobbing as he hugs his son to him, tears running down his cheeks and chest shaking with emotion as he kisses the top of the baby’s head.

-

Harry had just had another failed date, defeated as he drags his feet back up to his room in the frat house to change out of his nice outfit.

There isn’t any reason he shouldn’t have feelings for the girl he was just out on a date with, she was pretty, smart, and they even went to the same yoga studio.

He thought it was going good, he even agreed to go back to her apartment with her but when they were watch some dumb romantic comedy and her hand went to rub at him through his pants - nothing happened.

Harry felt defeated as he made up some bullshit excuse that he was tired from all the work-outs and games, that’s the only reason he couldn’t get it up.

But in reality, it was because there wasn’t a connection with the girl and he didn’t feel like he could even create one with her.

This had been his reality for his full life, he’s ashamed to admit when he got home from that date - he laid in bed and cried because he didn’t think that he would ever find someone who he could be close to, let alone be in a relationship with.

-

Now he was sitting here with the love of his life and their baby - something he truly had believed may never happen for him.

YN brings him back to reality when she reaches over to stroke his cheek, concerned in her eyes at how much he’s crying.

“M’okay,” Harry laughs quietly, a bit embarrassed as he kisses the palm of his wife’s hand, “I just..I’ve never been happier than I am right now.”

YN smiles back at him, tired and loving, “I’ve never been happier either.”

“Just you, me, and Easton,” Harry murmurs adoringly as he kisses his son’s head, “I’ll never need anything else but you two. Only thing that matters to me.”

-

💕

[thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask]

Yandere Ticci Toby Alphabet

Warnings: Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Past Abuse mentioned (Toby), Rape implied, dependence, decapitation, forced killings, trauma, kidnappings, insecurities, gaslighting, manipulation, cursing, name calling (Bitch), Gore and forced affection

Author's note: My first creepypasta writing! If you like this writing why not give me a follow? Or send in a request, or just reblog this, whatever works best for you!

Links: Alphabet Used|| Masterlist

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Since Toby didn't come from the best home life, having an extremely Abusive father and his mother being mentally ill, I don't think he got much affection when he was growing up, so I can see him being extremely touch starved.

He finds a lot of comfort in you and you help him relieve any stress and worry he has, you make him feel normal.

He'll hug you from behind and force you to cuddle him You don't want to get your fingers to get chopped off, now would you?

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Since he's a serial killer and one of Slenderman's proxies, I can see him being pretty clean with his killings, but he can get sloppy at times, but that's fine! They tried to take you away from him! They don't deserve to have a quick and painless death. Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He'd be a rollercoaster of emotions. He tries, he really does, but he's sadistic and doesn't have that well of control over his emotions.

He'd keep you chained to a wall in his room in the manor and forbid you from leaving his room. Since Slenderman said he can keep you as long as you weren't a distraction and you behaved, so you're staying locked in his room.

He would mock you about how pathetic you are and how easy it was to get you, before immediately changing emotions and asking if you were ok and checking if you had any cuts or bruises, just in a case he hit you too hard.

He'd get you books to keep you entertained and if you're good he'll let you use his TV or get you a sketch book or journal for you to draw and write in. Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

A lot of forced affection, he doesn't respect your boundaries at all.

Since he has really bad mood swings, he will definitely make you do some messed up shit, like behead a baby deer or force you to kill one of his many victims.

I can see him threatening to force himself onto you when you really piss him off, but those are normally empty promises, but he'll only do it if you escape, try to ask for help, mess up his room or when you're asleep, they do say fear is the best motivator.

He'll force you to dispose the bodies of his victims, and then kiss you and run his fingers through your hair, telling you that you're a monster just like him, and that you belong to him... And only him...

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He's not naive or delusional, he knows what he's doing is wrong, but he just doesn't care enough to let him effect him.

He'll only give you surface level an never open up to you until you gain his trust, which will take years!

He'll give you lots of physical affection and due to his mood swings, he'll get violent really quickly.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He'd find it amusing at first, calling you cute that you think you can actually do something, before he immediately gets angry and pins you down, stepping on your back as he tics, trying to understand and process why you'd even think that you're little plan would work, HE'S TRYING TO PROTECT! SEE IT! JUST SEE IT!

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No, no this is not a game to this man. He'd come back from a mission he was assigned and just want to lay down and cuddle you to his hearts content, but when he opened his bedroom door and saw you weren't in your chains, he lost it.

He'd slam his door shut, breaking it off it's frame, he'd tic and curse under his breath as he walks down the long hallways of the manor. He'd check every room, door and closet in the entire place, even checking Masky and Hoodie's rooms just in case they were hiding you.

Once he see you're not in the manor he's running outside and into the forest, hatchets in hand as he runs through the forest like a mad man.

He'd find you at a camping sight with a few people helping you out. He'd tic and he walked closer, anger consuming his entire body as he throws one of his hatchets, beheading one of the campers. He kill every single one of those campers until he and you are covered in blood.

He'd go up to you and pin you down, his hands around your throat as he cusses you out, calling you a bitch and that you're an ungrateful whore he took pity on and that you're nothing but a toy to him. He'd knock you out and take you back to the manor, the punishment you'll be receiving will be worse than death.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

This ma is sadistic, and by sadistic I mean really sadistic.

He's forced you to murder people, dispose of dead bodies, witness extreme amounts of Gore until you threw up and cried, and actively shame you, but none of that is worse than what he did after your first escape attempt.

The moment you two got to his room, he'd chain you to the wall as he fixed his door, muttering curse words while ticking uncontrollably.

Once the door's fixed he'd cut your clothes off with his axe, leaving you only in your undergarments. He'd then grab a sharpie and draw lines all over your body, a line on each of your fingers, a line on both of your thigh, lines that shown your mouth being shut and Finally lines over your eyes. He'd tell you that every mistake you made, that body part was coming off. First your fingers, then your thighs, then he'd sew your mouth shut so you could never speak and then gouge your eyes out so you couldn't see.

He'd then strip his own clothes until he was left in his undergarments, and then he'd get to eye level as he grips your thighs.

"Be on you're best behavior my precious... If you want to come out in one piece..."

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He doesn't really know what he wants his future to be with you is, he just wants you to love him and stay with him forever.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Since Toby is insecure and is worries about you escaping, h gets jealous very easily.

He lets you talk to Hoodie and Masky, since he doesn't want you to just snap and be as silent as a mouse.

Masky can get pretty flirty and touchy with you, but not because he has interest in you, but it's more to piss Toby off.

Toby watches as he tics uncontrollably, trying to control his emotions but he just snaps.

He'd grab you and drag you away yelling curse words at Masky before kicking you into his room and locking his door.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He's either soft and cuddly, violent and sadistic or a mix of the two.

When he's soft he most likely had a really bad and stressful day, and he'd probably just want to cuddle and kiss you until all his stress left his body and he could sleep in peace.

If he's violent he most likely messed up a mission, someone pissed him off or he's extremely stressed out and isn't looking for affection.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He'd stalk you for a about a year, learning your routine, your interests, your friends, your family, your pets, your clothes size and basically everything about you before he actually makes contact with you.

He'd come up to you without his mask and goggles, making him look like a normal person. He'd befriend you and you two would spend a lot of time together.

He'd invite to go camping with him and you'd agree. When you look in the back as you guys were driving towards the woods, you'd see two hachets right beside and duffle bag. You'd ask Toby about but he'd say it was camping supplies.

He'd lead you far out into the forest until you got to a small little camping sight. He'd tell you to wait there while he got the supplies. You sit in the dark for a while until you began to hear a ticking noise from behind you. You'd turn around and see Toby with his mask and goggles on, along with two hachets. You try to run and Toby would pin you down and knock you out. He'd drag you back to his car and tie you up with zip ties, before driving to the manor.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

No not really, he doesn't really put up a front in front of you, he only did before he kidnapped you do he could gain your trust.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He'd traumatized you with extreme Gore until you got physically sick.

Force you to kill people, and force you to kill your loved ones, and then have you burn their bodies while and calls you a good boy/girl.

He may SA you, but that's not as often since he doesn't have a high sex drive.

He'll cut limbs off if you really fuck up.

But in a minor note, he may just gaslight, shame or harass you until you broke down into tears.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Freedom. Just all your freedom is gone.

He may even burn your clothes so you don't get to chose what you get to where. You either stay in his clothes, or say in your undergarments in his cold room.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Depends. Normally he isn't patient, but sometimes if your having a really bad day or he's desperate for affection, he could rate a tad bit longer.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He'd break down, he would not be able to move on. He already lost his sister and now he lost you, HE WON'T FUCKING ACCEPT THAT!

If you escaped, he'd hunt you down. Killing anyone in his path and mutter all the things he'd do to once he his hands on you.

If he finds you, you know how that ends up.

If he doesn't, he'll break down and lock himself in his room for days on end, the voices getting louder and louder, mocking him for letting you escape, mocking him for being so weak. He'd be out of commission for a while, but Masky and Hoodie would eventually force him out of his room and start doing shit again since he needed to get over it and move on.

Same thing would happened if you died.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He doesn't feel guilty in the slightest. Yes there are times where he sees the sadness in your eyes and has sympathy, but that isn't enough for him to let you go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Most likely because of his traumas. The abuse he suffered from his father and the death of his sister most likely caused this, and he mental disorders didn't help it either.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

You screaming or crying doesn't effect him that much. He'd tell you to stop and shut up.

Isolating yourself is impossible, he's locked you in HIS room.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Not much, he's kinda like a normal yandere but not really.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He craves your validation, that's all he wants.

You can use his need for you validation to your advantage, but use it carefully and wisely, cause he'll soon find out.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes. No further comment.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Toby is definitely a worshiping kind of yandere, just a extremely fucked up one.

He'd kill for you, he'd destroy an entire city if you asked, but he'd want something in return.

"I'll do it if you give me a kiss, Love..."

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

About a year before he actually interacts with you, and a month before he actually kidnaps you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes, but not on purpose. Most likely during one of his many episodes.

[study-coffee-chicago]

Ok ok I’ve read like all your Halstead!Sister fics and I love them!! I’ve got an hc that baby sis is an art history major/art major and paints and stuff when she’s dealing with a lot, so could you maybe write a fic about something big going on a she’s painting non-stop and Jay and Will notice cause she hasn’t done this in hot minute and they’re concerned?

This was originally a Headcanon request, but it turned into an imagine of over 9k words. @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff I hope you (and everyone else) likes it! Remember to reblog and comment! Here it is!

Ars Longa, Vita Brevis (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister Imagine)

Trigger warning: for d*pression, s*icidal thoughts PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU! I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH

It never used to be this bad. Sure, it would happen once in a while, for example, high school geometry class, but it was never a recurring thing. Maybe it's all the homework for subjects you didn't see the point in learning and teaching yourself--after all, it was your freshman year of college--maybe it was that you had to make new friends, hell maybe it was fucking seasonal because it was starting to turn from summer into fall and the days were getting shorter and the nights longer. Sunlight made people feel this way, right? All you knew is that you'd be sitting in class and just staring off into space, hyperfocused on what the professor was saying, but not be able to retain what was being talked about, and then you'd have to go to the bathroom and slow your racing heart.

And then, if that wasn't enough (the hyper-focusing and all the other stuff typically only happened once a week, so you could deal with it), you felt like you wanted to cry all the time and you didn't know why. You'd go home and thank the Lord that Jay was still at work and just slump against your bedroom door and stare off into space, pleading with yourself to cry. But it never came.

The last time you remember feeling like this on a consistent basis was when your dad died four years ago. You had an okay relationship with him (all of Pat Halstead's relationships with his kids were complicated to some extent), but you lived with him up until he died. He was your sole caregiver; your sole parent. Yeah, you didn't agree on some things like moral values and politics, but he was still your dad and you still loved him.

Despite this, you hadn't cried when you found out he died. You had waited three days to cry. You were in the church, standing between Jay and Will in the very first pew when it hit you. You'd never see your dad again. He was actually gone.

You took a sharp intake of breath and grabbed onto Jay's arm. This was the part of the service where everyone was standing up. Jay looked down at you and you crumbled. All the tears you had been holding in came out at that very moment and you buried your head in Jay's chest. He wrapped an arm around you and just rubbed your back. Will noticed ad had grabbed one of your hands and held it. Once you had pulled away from Jay, Will pulled you into his embrace. He kept an arm around for the rest of the service.

But, that was the last time you remembered feeling sad, feeling...whatever the fuck this was. Numb maybe? And that was only for three days. Sure, sometimes around your period, you'd feel like this, but you blamed it on your hormones going crazy because your uterus was shedding since it didn't get a baby to house.

But this had been going on for over six weeks at this point.

This wasn't normal. You knew this. But, you didn't know what it even was that you were feeling. (Was not feeling feelings an actual feeling? Probably not.) So, how would you even go about explaining it to someone?

So, you kept quiet and did what you did whenever you were sad.

Paint and bullet journal. (While listening to sad music and hoping that the tears would come. Spoiler alert: no matter how sad the song was, you still couldn't cry.)

***

4 weeks later

Okay, so you thought this was going to get better, but it had actually gotten worse. Usually, before class, you'd get up half an hour before you actually had to and draw or bullet journal and drink a cup of coffee. Basically, you'd relax before the day started. But, now you just hit snooze. And, eventually, you just pushed your alarm back and slept for half an hour.

Jay knew you did this and would occasionally make you a cup of coffee if he was home and waking up at the same time and making his. But, now he saw that you weren't having your relaxing morning routine. (He was always proud of you for doing this because one, it meant that you typically weren't late to your classes and two, you were taking care of yourself to make sure you had some me-time in the day.) He just chalked you not doing this anymore to the homework load you had due to college and you wanting more sleep.

The shitty thing about it was that you weren't enjoying what you had decided to major in. Analyzing painting and drawings and other art pieces and thinking about the artist's thought process and mood when making it used to give you so much joy. You'd even rant about this stuff to Jay and Will. You even enjoyed hearing what other people thought and what their perspective was on the artist's thoughts and feelings even if they were different from your own.

This was art; everyone interpreted it differently.

But, this, these feeling you had been having for two and a half months now, you hoped that everyone would interpret them the same: shitty.

And your drawing reflected that.

One was of a girl sitting on her floor, and you were going to draw a brain inside and draw he thoughts, but instead, you just drew a circle for the brain and an empty thought bubble because that's how you felt right now: not happy, not sad, not mad just...empty.

And to make matters worse, today was one of your favorite holidays: Halloween.

Jay knew this of course.

You had been digging your nails into your palms all day just to feel something. You had gone to class like everything was normal, but had zoned out yet again. And, that was when you started to dig your nails into your palms. You could focus on something. And periodically, you'd listen to the professor lecturing. It went like this:

No nails in palm + whatever this empty feeling was = nothing to focus on = zoning at = not listening in class.

Nails in palm + whatever this empty feeling was = focusing on something = paying attention in class.

Everything had been fine...well, that was until Jay barged into your room to ask if you wanted to go to Hailey's apartment with him and watch Halloween movies.

"You hiding something from me?" Jay asked while raising an eyebrow and staring down at you like you were a suspect.

"No. Why?" you asked innocently. You really had no idea what he was getting at.

"Your hand's all clenched," he answered.

Shit. You knew you had drawn blood earlier and you hadn't bothered to clean it out and you no doubt had just drawn more blood. You felt the pain, but at least you felt something, so you really didn't care. But, you knew that explanation wouldn't help. If you didn't even know what you were feeling, how were you supposed to explain it to Jay?

"Oh," was all you said.

"Well, are you gonna unclench it?" he asked.

You looked around the room, trying to find anything to distract him or get him out of the room. But, there was nothing.

He gave you a look.

You cast your eyes down into your lap and unclenched your hand, revealing your scratched-up palm to your older brother.

"What did you do?" he asked as he crouched down and grabbed your hand.

"Got bored in class," you answered. It wasn't a total lie.

"You haven't been in class for four hours, Y/N. I know what fresh blood looks like." He paused and continued to study your hand. "I also know what old blood looks like. Y/N, look at me."

You met his gaze.

What Jay saw broke his heart. Your eyes looked sad, but at the same time, they looked empty, like you were looking through him, not at him.

"Why did you do this?"

You shrugged. That was the truth at least. You really didn't know why you were doing this because you didn't know what you were feeling. All you knew was that digging your fingernails into your palm made you feel something, even if it was pain that you were feeling.

"You don't know?" Jay asked.

"I don't know," you confirmed quietly. "I guess I just did it."

Jay knew there was something you weren't telling him, but he let it go.

"Let's go clean this up, okay?"

You nodded and got up and followed him to the bathroom where you sat on the counter and Jay got out the first aid kit from underneath the sink.

"This is gonna sting," he warned.

"I know," you mumbled.

"I know you know, but I just figured I'd give you a fair warning."

Jay poured the alcohol on a cotton ball and gently dabbed it on your hand.

You hissed. "Shit." You grit your teeth and grabbed onto Jay's shoulder and squeezed.

"Sorry," Jay apologized and then started wiping it with the cotton ball. Once he was finished, he had you rinse your hand under warm water and dry it off. Then, he covered your palm with two bandaids and wrapped medical tape around your hand so that the bandaids wouldn't fall off.

You went back into your room and started to close the door when Jay stopped you.

"You sure you don't wanna come with me to go to Hailey's?" he asked.

"I'm sure," you answered. After all of this, all you wanted to do was go to sleep. Or, maybe you'd do some painting with Halloweentown playing in the background.

"Okay. Well, if you decide that you wanna come over later, just text me or Hailey to let us know."

"Okay." Then you shut the door and changed into some pajamas.

Half an hour later, when Jay left, you curled up in the soft blankets of your bed and went to sleep. Finally. Some relief from this hell.

***

"I don't know, Hailey," Jay said to his girlfriend as they stood at the counter of her apartment while Hailey was pouring them each a glass of red wine. "It's like she's tired all the time and she just goes right to her room when she gets home from class. If I'm home when she gets home from class that is. I don't even know what she's doing when I'm not there. Oh, God, I'm rambling aren't I?"

"It's okay," Hailey reassured. "You're just worried about her. How long has this been going on?"

"I mean, I've noticed it for about the past two weeks."

"Okay. It could just be that her period is just kicking her ass, Jay."

"I know. I've thought of that. But if it was, she would've told me because she'll milk her cramps to the end of the earth if she has to. I'll ask her to answer the door and she'll yell back no because of her cramps. I really don't think that's what this could be."

"Maybe it's just stress from school?" Hailey suggested.

"Maybe. But, she would've told me she's stressed. And, if she was, I probably would've witnessed at least one mental breakdown by now."

"I don't know what to tell you, Jay. But, if it goes on any longer, maybe talk to her about it? Have her talk to me or Will about it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess."

***

2 weeks later

You kept thinking about it. So you did what you always did: painted it.

You knew the thought wasn't rational. Hell, it wasn't even normal.

Normal people didn't see a bridge and think these things.

Normal people didn't think these things about the bridge near their house every night.

Normal people didn't think about how to sneak out in the middle of the night and how to jump off said bridge near their house.

You painted it twice. During the time when it was drying, you took a nap and then started on the other one.

The first one was during the day. The bridge was bathed in the fall sunlight. It was black with smudges of rust on it. To the left, there was an intersection and the light was green, yet there were no cars passing. Then, to the right, there was more road and an empty parking lot. People would sometimes kayak down the river, but since it was fall, it was starting to get cold, so there was only one car in the parking lot. You didn't draw the kayaker going downriver because you knew you wouldn't attempt this if you knew that someone could see you.

Then, you drew the water. You added some fall-colored leaves which floated on top of the river and added a tree to the left side of the shore. You added the few cottages on the shore as well. You assumed that no one would be there because the weather was becoming colder since it was mid-November, so you didn't paint a single light on in any of the cottages; you painted the windows but colored them in gray because no one would be in them anyway.

Then, you painted yourself with your back to what others would see when they looked at the painting. You painted yourself in a pair of jeans and a black coat, your hair slightly blowing in the wind that would come since it was November. You made sure that you positioned the head of yourself to be looking at the river below and made sure that your hands were gripping the railing.

Then, you stopped and painted the sky. It was a light gray, to make it look like snow would be coming soon.

Then, you let it dry and took a nap.

On the second one, you made it look like it was nighttime. This one to you seemed to be the most accurate because if this happened, you didn't think you'd take the chance of doing it during the day.

You painted the bridge first as you had done in the previous painting. This time, you painted it all black since only you would be able to see the spots of rust. People from far away wouldn't be able to see that since it was nighttime. You drew the intersection again. You still made the light green, but because it was nighttime, you painted a streak of green on the road too, to show that it was illuminating the road a little in the dark of night. The parking lot this time was completely empty, as no kayakers would be able to get themselves downriver in the middle of the night.

You drew the water as mostly black, but there was still some you painted as dark blue mixed with brown because you'd make the streetlight shine down on that spot. When you drew the cottages, you made sure to paint them darker than in the painting of the bridge during the day since you wouldn't be able to see the color of the cottages in the moonlight. You painted the inside of the cottages black instead of gray this time because you knew you wouldn't be able to see into any windows.

You painted yourself the same. But, this time, you painted yourself in all black as if you were a shadow in the night. You still made sure to draw your hair blowing, this time from beneath a winter hat--which was also painted black--and have your hands gripping the railing.

Finally, you drew the streetlight to your left and positioned the moon in the center of the painting.

You painted the sky black and speckled it with stars.

On the first painting, you wrote in black paint in cursive handwriting in the gray of the sky: Ars longa, vita brevis.

Once the second painting dried, you did the same thing. Except it was written in white over the black sky speckled with tiny stars: Ars longa, vita brevis.

You had learned that phrase in one of your art history classes when talking about the ancient Romans and art. It was Latin.

Ars longa, vita brevis.

Art is long, life is short.

***

Three days later

You were sitting on the couch drawing in one of your sketchbooks while Jay sat on the couch across from you and watched the Blackhawks game. Usually, you'd watch it with him, but you didn't feel like it. What was the point of watching if, at this rate, you didn't even know if you'd be here come playoffs in April?

"Fight!" Jay yelled, causing you to turn your attention to the tv.

You watched blankly. Usually, you'd be excited when a fight broke out because they weren't as likely as they used to be in hockey say ten years ago now that the reffing has gotten stricter. Sometimes you'd even bitch with Jay about how that wasn't even a fight and should've been a roughing call instead, which would bring the penalty down from five minutes to two minutes.

When the call was made and both the players got five-minute majors for fighting and the player from the other team got an additional two minutes for an instigator, Jay was excited. But, you just shrugged. "At least we got a power play out of it," you said.

Then, you went back to your drawing.

Jay turned to look at you and paused the game. "Y/N, are you okay? Normally you're excited."

You looked up at him and shrugged. "Just tired, I guess," you lied.

"We can finish the game tomorrow if you want?" Jay suggested. "And you can go to bed now."

"No, it's okay. You can keep watching it. I'll just finish it tomorrow," you said.

Then, you took your pencil and sketchbook and started towards your room.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Jay asked. "It's just, you're tired all the time and you don't wanna do anything."

"School's just kicking my butt," you lied. You weren't having any trouble in your classes--other than the fact that you had started skipping a lot of your 8 am class sessions which were on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Jay didn't need to know that--and you made sure to study for your quizzes and exams and get your art assignments and other assignments finished on time.

"Okay, well now you're on Thanksgiving break, so you should be able to catch up on sleep and relax for a bit," Jay said.

"Yeah," you agreed. "I'm gonna go draw and go to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Jay wanted to continue to push you to tell him what was wrong but he knew he couldn't force it out of you; you'd have to come to him when you were ready. Hell, he wouldn't even care if you talked to Will or Hailey when you were ready. All he cared about was that you told someone what was going on.

Once you were in your room, you turned on your two lamps to make your lights dim and continued drawing. You also resisted the urge to dig the fingernails of your right hand into your left arm. You had done that in school today and quickly rolled down the sleeve of your sweatshirt and went to the bathroom.

You now kept a small first aid kit in your backpack to clean up the small punctures in your skin. They barely drew blood now because you didn't want to bring attention to them when you were home all week for Thanksgiving break. But, you still cleaned them up with an alcohol pad and placed a bandaid over them.

No one would ever know.

Hell, you didn't even know. Well, you knew that you were doing this, but you didn't know why you were doing this.

You went back to your pencil drawing.

This time, it was of you in the river.

You were under the water, floating, your eyes closed, your face relaxed. You made the water ripple around you and your hair go whichever way you drew the waves. You drew your lips parted slightly and your arms out at your sides.

The drawing looked almost...peaceful.

Sometimes--well, more often than not recently, most times--you longed to feel a peacefulness like the one you had drawn.

And you knew that there was only one way to get that.

But, you knew you'd never go through with it...right?

***

Four days later

It was Thanksgiving. There were a few people over at yours and Jay's apartment including Will, Hailey, Stevie, Kelly, and Stella. You all planned on watching football for the afternoon and then going over to Molly's.

Yes, Molly's for Thanksgiving dinner. The bar was closed, but everyone was bringing a dish to pass and all your friends from Firehouse 51, Med, Intelligence, and their immediate families would be there. Since Cindy was in charge of the turkey, Hermann proposed they all had it at Molly's...and that way there'd be enough seating for everyone.

Normally, you'd be sort of excited to see everyone who wasn't on shift and to eat all the delicious food that everyone had prepared to share.

But, not today.

You didn't want to go, but you couldn't just tell Jay and Will that because you knew they'd pry your secret out of you.

You felt like you had no energy left. Every time you had to go out somewhere, even to class, it was painful.

You felt like there was no point anymore. You'd just finish your degree, get a job, and then die years and years down the line. Was that really truly living?

You didn't want a life like that.

But, you didn't know what kind of life you wanted besides that, either.

You were sick and tired of being tired all the time and having no interest in life, but it wouldn't go away.

And, to you, there was only one option.

You knew this would wreck their Thanksgiving for years and years to come, but they'd eventually forget about you. After all, all your friends from high school had, so obviously, it wasn't that hard.

You always thought you'd sneak out in the middle of the night to do this, but if you wanted this to be over before dinner--and have less time to think about the repercussions--you'd need to do it sooner rather than later.

You needed the perfect excuse.

You wanted to make churros for the get-together and you were sure you had all the ingredients, but you knew if you hid the bottle of cinnamon and sugar in your room and then said that you were going to the store just a block from here, nobody would be suspicious. You knew they were open until 3:00 today anyway.

So, you snuck the cinnamon and sugar bottle in your room and hid it in your closet. Then, you started pulling out ingredients to make your churros in the kitchen. You rummaged around in the kitchen for a bit longer than usual to make it seem like you were looking for the missing bottle.

"Jay?" you called.

"Yeah?" he yelled back.

"Have you seen the cinnamon and sugar? I can't find it."

"Should be in the spice cupboard!"

"It's not!"

Jay mumbled something about you needing to open your eyes and actually look for stuff and then got off the couch and came into the kitchen.

He looked in the spot where the cinnamon and sugar usually was. "I swear we had some."

"Me, too." You groaned. "Now what am I gonna do?"

"I'm sure you can find another recipe online," Jay suggested.

"But I wanted to make churros," you whined. You had to make this seem convincing. Then, your face lit up. "What if I run to the store?" you suggested. "The one close by. I think they're open until 3:00." It was only 1:30.

"Okay, but traffic's a pain today, so you might wanna walk," Jay suggested.

Perfect.

"Okay." You went to your room and grabbed your wallet and phone. You knew if you didn't bring it you'd look suspicious, so you just planned to turn it off ten minutes into your walk.

You grabbed your hat, coat, and gloves from where they were by the door.

"I should be back in about forty-five minutes," you lied.

"Okay, be safe," Jay said.

"Pick up some more tortilla chips while you're at it," Will said. "We have too much salsa and not enough chips for this game."

"Well, we'd have enough chips if you didn't just keep eating them!" Jay protested.

You laughed. Maybe you'd actually miss this.

"Okay," you began, "cinnamon and sugar and tortilla chips. Got it. Be back soon."

Then, you left.

Time to get this over with before you could actually think things through.

***

Jay and Will's phones binged at the same.

"It's Y/N," Jay said. His eyes bulged as he read the text. "Will, read your text and tell me what it says."

Will drew in a sharp intake of breath. He couldn't speak, so he just held his phone out to Jay.

"We have to go now."

"Jay, what's going on?" Hailey asked.

"Y/N. She- she sent me and Will the same text. It says I'm sorry. This isn't your fault. I love you, always remember that."

Hailey's face paled.

But, Kelly was the one to suggest a game plan. Will, Jay, Hailey, and Stevie all knew what that text meant. And, from what Jay had mentioned to Stella and Kelly at Molly's, they knew enough to know what was going on.

"Me, Jay, and Hailey will go drive around and look for her. Stella, Will, and Stevie will stay here and try and find out where she is."

"I'll call the 21st on the way there. See if they can ping Y/N's phone so we can get a location," Hailey said.

Luckily, all six of them were first responders so they fought in situations where others would flee or freeze. So, Kelly, Jay, and Hailey ran out to Hailey's car, all three forgetting their coats because this was an emergency. And, Stella, Will, and Stevie went to your room to try and get a clue on where you could've gone in case your phone was off or you had ditched it so that they couldn't get a location on you.

Three minutes later, Hailey announced that your phone had been turned off, but that they had a last-known location from where your phone pinged. So, they followed that. But, it was the route that you'd normally take to go to the store.

They were at a dead-end unless the other three could figure out where you had gone.

Will ripped open the drawers of your dresser while Stevie and Stella frantically flipped through your notebooks.

"I know she keeps paintings in one of these drawers," Will said frustratedly as he dug through them. "I just know it. C'mon, kid, please tell me you left us some clue. God, we can't lose you."

He got to the last drawer which was where he saw a pile of your paintings. He took them from the drawer and set them on your bed. He started flipping through them.

"I got something!" Stella yelled. "It's a drawing." She set it on the bed for all three of them to look at. "Looks like she's underwater."

"Okay, water," Stevie said. "That helps a bit."

"Someone call Jay or someone else in that car and tell them that while I go through these!" Will ordered.

Will started flipping through the paintings while Stella called Kelly and told them that they had something, but it was just a drawing of you underwater.

"Wait!" Will yelled. "I think I got something!" Stella put the phone on speaker.

The three of them looked at the two paintings of you overlooking the bridge you had done recently.

"Ars longa, vita brevis," Stevie read. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know!" Will snapped. "It doesn't seem that important right now!"

"It might be a clue," Stevie said and then pulled out her phone to translate it.

"She painted two paintings of the bridge close by, Jay," Will explained. "The one above the river that people kayak in."

"You think she's...?" Jay trailed off.

"The paintings make it look like she's contemplating jumping," Will answered Jay's question.

"Ars longa, vita brevis means art is long, life is short," Stevie said.

Will met eyes with Stevie. His were filled with the most worry she had ever seen.

"We're on our way to the bridge," Hailey said.

"We're leaving right now," Stella said and then ended the call as the three sprinted to the door and out of the house and to Will's car.

***

You stood on the bridge, your hands grasping the cool black metal with spots of rust. You looked down at the rushing water. You wondered if the water would be so cold that it felt like a thousand knives, like what Jack had told Rose in Titanic. But, you didn't want to die by drowning or hypothermia. You wanted the fall alone to kill you. You wanted your body to hit the water as hard as it could, as if the water was concrete. That way, death would be faster.

You weren't afraid of death. Rather, you were afraid of how you died. You wanted it fast and you didn't want to suffer. So, you hoped this bridge was high enough to kill you from the fall alone.

You took a deep breath and carefully brought a leg over the railing so that you were now straddling it. Then, you did the same thing with the other leg, so that you were now balancing on the small bit of concrete on the other side of the railing.

You looked down.

All you had to do was let go and fall forward.

It was that simple.

You couldn't think about it. You had to do it. If you kept thinking about it, you'd just talk yourself out of it.

You heard sirens.

Shit. Your plan was ruined. You had to do it now.

But, you couldn't will yourself to move your feet from the ledge.

No, you had to do this.

Carefully, you started to lift one leg.

You started to kick it out, hoping that would propel the rest of your body forward and down into the water.

But, then you felt a pair of arms wrap around the back of your arms that were still holding on to the railing.

"No!" you yelled. You needed whoever that was to let go. You needed to go through with this to make the numbness in your brain stop. You just wanted everything to stop. You didn't see the point in living anymore. "Let me go!"

"I'm not letting you go," you heard Jay's steady voice say. "I either help you off the ledge or I haul you over the railing. Your choice."

"No! Let me go!" you yelled again.

Jay had no choice. He nodded to Kelly and he came over and grabbed one of your arms. Only then did Jay let go of that arm and wrap both his hands around your right arm. Then, you felt one hand gripping each of your arms and another one going underneath either of your armpits.

A few seconds later, you were back on the other side of the railing.

"No!" you yelled and tried to turn back, but Jay stepped in front of you and blocked you from doing that. "No! Let me die! Just fucking let me die, goddammit!" you yelled and then started to hit Jay's chest in an effort to make him move out of the way.

More sirens.

You kept trying to get to the other side of the railing but were stopped by either Jay or someone else.

Then, you felt a hand around both of your forearms.

"Y/N," you heard someone say. "We're paramedics. We're here to help you."

"No! I don't want help!" you cried. "I just wanna die! Just let me fucking die! Let me die!"

"We can't do that sweetie," one of the paramedics said and then nodded to their partner, which you didn't see.

"Ow!" you yelled when you felt a pinch in the left side of your neck. Then, you felt yourself start to relax and a few seconds later, your eyes closed.

***

Jay and Will sat in the small room with you in the emergency department. They had their phones but had to leave anything that you could possibly use to harm yourself outside by the nurse technician, such as their phone chargers. The four others who had helped look for you were waiting in the waiting room. Jay and Will had told all of them they could leave and go to the Thanksgiving at Molly's, but they insisted on staying.

"I can't believe I didn't notice any fucking signs," Jay lamented. "I'm around her at home and I didn't notice anything. Well, I did, but I figured it was better if she came to me than me pushing her. I should've just forced it out of her, dammit."

"You couldn't have known this was going to happen," Will comforted. "At least she didn't jump. And, it's not all on you. I could've said something, too."

"But we shouldn't have let it get to the point of her thinking she needed to jump. God, we're terrible people."

"No, we're not. None of this is on us and none of this is on her. People who feel this way get good at hiding it and she did just that."

"So what do we do? How do we fix this?"

Will shrugged. "I'm a doctor, but not that kind of doctor. Dr. Charles said he'd meet with her when she wakes up."

"What if she doesn't talk to him either?"

"Then he'll just talk to her and make her feel like it isn't her fault and explain what could be going on in her brain."

"What do we do once she gets out of here?" Jay asked. After all, you lived with him and he couldn't see the signs because he wasn't home enough. He couldn't leave you home alone now after all this had happened.

"We'll figure it out when she gets a discharge date. For now, she's on at least a 72-hour psych hold, so we have a bit of time to figure it out."

You started to stir and then opened your eyes. You groaned. You had no idea where you were.

"I'll go get the nurse," Jay said and stood up.

Will wheeled the stool he was sitting on closer to your bed.

A few seconds later, Jay and the nurse walked in, since there was one outside your room monitoring you in case something happened.

The nurse crouched down by the right side of your bed. "Hi, Y/N. Do you remember what happened?"

You rubbed your eyes and nodded.

"Okay. We're here to help you. And, if you're hungry, we can bring up a menu so you can get some food in you. How does that sound?"

"Okay," you whispered.

"Do you have any questions for me?"

You shook your head.

"Okay, I'll get you that menu. Be back soon."

She motioned for Jay to follow her out of the small room and he did. About a minute later, Jay came back into the room. He quickly pulled out his phone and texted Will, saying that Dr. Charles would be meeting with you after you had something to eat. He didn't want to say it out loud because he didn't know whether or not it would upset you. Luckily, both of their phones were on silent, so Will would see the text whenever he picked up his phone next so it wouldn't look suspicious.

"Y/N, talk to us, kiddo," Will began. "What's going on?"

You shrugged. "I dunno. I just- I don't wanna be here anymore." There was no point in keeping this a secret anymore. Hell, you were in the hospital; there's no way you'd be able to keep it a secret in here of all places.

"Did anything happen that made you feel this way?" Will asked.

"No. I just started feeling like nothing mattered anymore."

"For how long?" Jay asked.

"Two and a half, three months."

Jay drew in a sharp breath. He knew something was going on since the moment he saw the nail marks in your hand. And, when he saw the nail marks in your forearm later, he blamed himself for not looking hard enough. He thought it was a one-off thing, but obviously, it wasn't. He thought it was just stress from your first year in college, but it wasn't. It was more than that.

The nurse came back in and handed you a menu. You ordered what sounded good, which was mac n' cheese, breadsticks, and a slice of chocolate cake. You didn't know if you'd eat it all, but maybe Jay or Will would want what was leftover.

"Can I go back to sleep now?" you asked after you ordered your food. "I'm tired."

"Sleep as long as you need," Will said.

"We'll be here when you wake up," Jay added. "We promise."

***

You woke up and you ate your food. You finished everything except for the last bit of chocolate cake, which Will and Jay finished for you. Then, Dr. Charles came in half an hour later and Will and Jay left the room.

"Hi, Y/N. I hear you've been having a bit of a rough time. Would you like to tell me about that?"

Your heart rate monitor started to go a little faster, and Dr. Charles noticed.

"It's okay. You just have to tell me what you feel comfortable with."

"Will you tell Jay and Will?" you asked.

"No. Whatever you say here stays between me and you. Unless you have another plan. Then, I do have to tell them. But, anything else is completely confidential."

"Okay."

"So, Y/N, can you tell me how you're feeling? Are you feeling anxious? Sad? Angry? Nothing?"

"Do you mean right now or before?"

"Whichever one you feel comfortable telling me."

"Right now I'm feeling a little anxious because I'm talking to you," you answered.

Dr. Charles nodded. "And that's perfectly normal. What about before you came here? What were you feeling let's say, yesterday morning?"

"Um, nothing I guess."

"And, I'm just wondering, how does nothing feel?"

"I dunno. I just didn't want to do anything. I'm tired all the time."

"Okay. Were you not sleeping enough? Could that be why you were so tired?" You shook your head. "Can you give me an estimate of how much you might've been sleeping on a typical day then?"

"I dunno. Maybe ten hours?"

"And you were still tired?" You nodded. "How's school been? I know you're in college now and I know that that's a big adjustment."

"Yeah," you agreed. "School's fine."

"What's your major again? I'm sure I've heard Will mention it, but you know old people's brains. They can't remember everything."

You cracked a ghost of a smile. "Art history," you answered.

"So, what's your favorite medium?" Dr. Charles asked. "Pencil drawing? Painting? Collage?"

"Painting," you answered.

"And have you been enjoying painting these past few months?"

You shrugged. "Sort of. But my paintings aren't happy like they used to be."

"How so?"

"I dunno. I use darker colors instead of brighter ones I guess."

"Like Picasso's blue period," Dr. Charles said. Then, he changed the subject. "Can you remember when you started painting with those darker colors?"

"Maybe two months ago?" you guessed.

"Did anything happen then that made you paint things with darker colors?"

"I don't think so," you answered.

Then, you kept thinking. You thought back to August. That was when you started college and all your friends from high school left. You never had the easiest time making friends and with living at home, you were only on campus when you went to class, which meant there were limited people you interacted with and a limited amount of time you had to see these people. You also had quit your job at a coffee shop around that time because you, Jay, and Will had thought it would be a good idea for you to not work for this first semester so that you could focus on school and see how to the workload was.

Also during this time, Natalie had left. She had been your female role model since she and Will had become colleagues six years ago. Sure, you had Hailey, but she had only been a big part of Jay's life for a little over two years. Natalie had been there longer; she had been a constant who you could talk to about things you couldn't talk to your brothers about such as periods. She was also the one who would go with you to shop for homecoming and prom dresses and help you get ready for the dance. Once Hailey was in Jay's life, she joined you and Natalie, but Natalie had been there through every high school dance.

And now, she wasn't here. She had left.

Sure, you had Hailey and you loved Hailey. But, it was weird just having Natalie leave after six years of her being there.

"Natalie left," you said.

"And, how did that make you feel?" Dr. Charles asked.

"Sad, I guess. She was always there and it felt nice because I didn't have a mom." You paused. Now that you think about it, Natalie had been like a mother figure to you through your last two years of middle school and through all four years of high school. "She was like a mother figure."

"So, a few weeks after Natalie left, did those feelings of sadness start to go away? Or did they stay?" Dr. Charles already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear how you interpreted your feelings.

"They stayed. I thought it was just stress from school, but it kept happening even when I didn't have homework or school."

"I see. Y/N, I think you're depressed."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Finally. There was a name to what you were feeling.

"It's a relief, isn't it?" Dr. Charles asked as if he could read your mind. "Putting a name to these feelings?"

"Yeah, it is."

"So, here's what we are going to do about it. I think we'll start you on one hundred milligrams of Zoloft, an antidepressant, while you're here and we'll see how that goes. Coupled with therapy sessions, I think you could make a lot of progress."

"You do?"

"I do. And, if we need to adjust your dosage or change medications, that's perfectly fine. But, just remember: you are not your mental health diagnosis. You aren't depressed. You are a person who has depression."

***

1 week later

After one week in the hospital--three days for the mandatory 72-hour psych hold, and another four for just observation and to make sure that your medication wasn't making your suicidal thoughts stronger and actually lowering them--you were deemed mentally stable enough to be discharged.

You were still depressed; the meds wouldn't work fully for about another week, but you weren't a danger to yourself anymore so you had been discharged. The one caveat was that the doctors had recommended that you shouldn't be alone for extended periods of time unless absolutely necessary.

Jay had taken emergency furlough and Will had continued to work, but would always come and visit after his shifts. Jay, Will, Hailey, or Stevie were always with you in your hospital room. Sometimes, others you knew would come and visit, like when Kim and Adam came and brought you coffee and donuts from your favorite coffee shop. Or when you mentioned feeling gross because the heart rate monitor got in the way of your hair when you tried to brush it so it was all tangled and greasy. Once you took a shower a few hours later, there was Stella who brought her laptop for the two of you to watch Netflix while she did some of the most amazing and complicated braids in your hair. Later that day, you learned that Hailey had texted Stella and asked her to come by.

You smelled the fresh air--well, as fresh as you could get in Chicago--when you walked out of the hospital with Jay on one side and Will on the other.

"So, let me get this straight," Jay started, "I had to be released in a wheelchair, but she doesn't?"

"Jay," Will sighed. "You were shot. Y/N...well, she wasn't. It's up to the physician, or in her case, the psychiatrist."

Jay rolled his eyes. Once you got to his truck, you saw Will start to get in the backseat.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"You wanna tell her or should I?" Will asked.

"You can do it," Jay said.

You looked between your two brothers with a sense of nervousness. Were they sending you away because they didn't want to deal with your fucked up brain?

"We're going to the cabin for two weeks," Will said.

"What about school?" you asked frantically. You still had two weeks left. And, you'd already missed a week. You couldn't miss any more.

"It's all taken care of. Your grades will stay with what you have in your classes right now and you'll be exempt from the work and exams for the rest of the semester," Will said.

"How?"

"We talked to the dean and explained the uh, the situation," Jay answered.

"Great, so now everyone knows I'm a freak. Thanks."

"No, no, far from it," Will reassured. "It's just the dean who knows all the details. He just basically told your profs that they have to make you exempt from the rest of the semester's assignments."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Jay said. "So, get in the truck. I don't feel like getting up there at midnight. And before you ask, your suitcase is in the truck. Hailey packed it. And, you're sitting in the front seat because you get carsick. And, yes, you can pick the music."

***

"Did you two do this just to keep an eye on me?" you asked as the three of you ate the food from Taco Bell you had picked up when you were almost to the cabin.

"Er..." Will trailed off.

"Y/N, you have to understand where we're coming from with this," Jay began. "You might not be here right now if we didn't find you. And, until those meds kick in fully, despite you being able to be discharged, we're not taking any chances. And, because of that, you're sleeping in the loft area with me."

You groaned. There was one bedroom and a loft area. Whenever you came up here with your parents, they got the bedroom and the three of you got the loft area. Since there were only two twin beds, they'd have to bring up an air mattress for one of you to sleep on. Now whenever you'd come up here with your brothers, since you were the only girl, you'd get the bedroom and Will and Jay would take the loft area.

"It's not too bad," Jay laughed. "We can play Mario Kart or NHL '97 on the old N-64 up there all night if you want."

"I probably forgot how to play those."

"Perfect time to remember how," Will said. "All I ask is that you beat Jay's high score on Mario Kart for me."

***

"Jay?" you asked into the darkness later that night when the three of you had gone to bed after watching one of the movies that were always kept up here.

"Hmm?" he mumbled from across from the room. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just...I got a question for you."

At this, Jay propped himself up on one elbow and turned to look at you, well, as much as he could see of you in the darkness. "Okay, what is it?"

You took a deep breath. "Am I stupid?" you asked.

"What?" Jay flicked on his bedside lamp. "Why would you think that?"

"I just...I have a great life and here I was trying to end it. Wasn't that like stupid and selfish? I didn't even have a good reason to do it."

"Y/N, listen to me. This is not on you. It's just how your brain is wired."

"Yeah, but shouldn't I have been able to override it?"

"Sometimes, you can't. Just like when I have a nightmare or when I flinch at fireworks because of..."

"Because of your PTSD?" you finished for him.

"Yeah, because of that. My point is--" He coughed and then took a sip of his water next to him-- "Sorry. My point is that your brain just does things even if you do your best to stop it."

"Yeah, but you saw so much over there. You have a reason to feel that way. I don't."

"Y/N, depression is just as much of an illness as say, the flu. So is PTSD. You wouldn't not take Tylenol because you didn't think you should have the flu. You'd take it to feel better. Same with depression and PTSD. You have it, so you take medication to feel better."

Your jaw almost dropped. You had never heard Jay say something like that before.

"How did you do that? Know exactly what to say?"

"Oh, that comparison wasn't from me. I heard it at a veterans' support group."

"Well, I liked it."

"Good. Now, are you ready to go to sleep?"

You nodded and Jay turned off the light and you felt lighter than you had five minutes ago after getting that heavy conversation off your chest.

***

3 days later

You had an exhausting day. First, you ate breakfast, and then Jay and Will watched the news (you only got three tv stations up here) while you read one of the books you had downloaded on your phone on the drive here a few days ago since you knew you didn't have wifi up here. Then, the three of you walked about half a mile down the road where there was this abandoned trailer that was said to be haunted. (You'd gone there every time you had been up since you were eight, so you knew it wasn't haunted, but despite all three of you being adults, you always had to go check for the old lady who been rumored to have lived there.) Will even decided to jump out at you and Jay and Jay almost punched him in the face. Then, when you got back, you had lunch and played card games. Then, Will and Jay used the old air pump they found in the garage to blow up tubes you'd typically use to go down the river during the summer. Then, you all took those tubes sledding down the giant hill that the cabin was built on. Next, you ate dinner and made a huge batch of brownies to eat while you watched movies. Will went to bed, and you and Jay went up into the loft and played a few rounds of Mario Kart on the old N-64. Jay won of course--there's no way you'd be able to beat his high score like Will wanted you to--but it was still fun. And then, the two of you went to bed.

Because of all this, you thought you'd sleep through the night easily. But, you woke up and felt something wet.

Shit.

Then you went to the bathroom.

Your period.

You had gotten your period and hadn't brought anything with you.

When you started getting depressed, you missed two cycles. And, basing when you'd have your period on your last cycle before your period, you shouldn't have gotten your period for another two weeks.

But here you were, with two older brothers and no period products in the cabin or in any of the bags you had brought with you. Then, you remembered that Hailey had packed your stuff. Surely she had put something in there.

But, there was nothing.

You didn't want to wake Will or Jay up. All you needed to do was go to the tiny mini-mart ten miles away. You'd only be gone half an hour max.

You grabbed your duffle bag and quickly changed your clothes and threw your hair into a ponytail. Then, you slipped your license in your back pocket and put on your coat, and reached for Jay's keys--

"Y/N?"

Shit. Will.

"Y-Yeah?" you asked and put your hand down back at your side.

"Where are you going? It's the middle of the night, kid," Will said.

"I- I..."

"If you're having suicidal thoughts again, you need to tell me or Jay remember? So that we can figure out a plan and get your dosage increased or change your medication altogether or do a different combination of meds," Will reminded you.

"I know, I know. It's not that. I just need to go to the store is all."

Will crossed his arms across his chest. "Anything specific you need at the store in the middle of the night?"

"I got my period and I have nothing, okay?" you snapped. Will just started laughing. "This isn't funny!"

"I know. But, you could've just led with that. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Yeah, but I should've at least made sure there was some in there, but I've been so irregular, so I didn't think to check."

At this, Will jumped into doctor mode. "How long has it been irregular for?"

"Will!" you groaned.

"I'm just wondering from a purely medical standpoint."

"Uh! Fine. I haven't had it for two and half months."

You saw the wheels turning in Will's head as he quickly did the math.

"What the hell is going on down here?" Jay asked as he walked down the stairs and saw the two of you. Then, he saw how you were dressed and his eyes went wide. "Y/N, no you're not...we're here to help you--"

"Jay, it's fine," Will interjected. "I'm just gonna get changed and run her to the store. She got her period."

"Will!"

"What? I would've had to tell him why we were leaving anyway. And, it means your meds are working."

"My antidepressants are solving my irregular periods?" you asked. Yeah, you knew Will was a doctor, but you still weren't convinced.

"Yeah. Your cortisol--stress hormone--has been so high for a while, so your body knows it's not ready to have kids, so it stopped your hypothalamus from sending signals to your ovaries to start menstruation. It means your meds are working, Y/N."

"I mean, I don't feel as tired as I used to be during the day," you said. "And, I guess I am happier."

"Alright, so everything's good?" Jay asked. "You got it handled?"

"Yeah, I got it handled," Will answered. "You can go back to bed, Jay."

And Will was right. Your meds were working and they worked even better coupled with the therapy sessions you went to once a week (which you started when you go home from the cabin). You went home a few days later and when you returned to class after Christmas break, you no longer freaked out in class and then came home and sat against your door trying to cry. You no longer dug your fingernails into your palms. And, the first thing you did after you realized that you were feeling like the normal you was pull out the paintings of the bridge.

There, you took your paint and crossed out the brevis in ars longa, vita brevis. Above it, you wrote longa.

Now both your paintings read ars longa, vita longa.

Art is long, life is long.

A/N I hope you liked this! And, we hit 70k reads! That's insane! Anyway, please feel free to comment and tell me what you thought, and don't forget to reblog, too! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I'll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07@thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18@iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things@herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

[littlemisspascal]

The Infinity Cube Part 8

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Chapter Pairing: Dave York x Female Reader

Word Count: 1200+

Series Summary:  When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Warnings for the chapter: Language, TW: night terrors, ptsd, choking, violence, blood Angst, First time writing Dave

Author Note: Thank you everybody for your kind support of this fic! I appreciate every like, comment, and reblog 💝 A shorter chapter this time cuz Dave is tough to write for. I wrote a similar scene in Ezra’s Journal Entries and I thought it’d be interesting to twist it for Dave and Reader to experience given Dave’s background.

PART 1 / PART 7 / PART 9

When your reality stops spinning and settles again, you’re lying in a bed. The room is dark with the barest hint of moonlight peeking in through the floral patterned curtains, washing everything in pale silver.

For a moment, you’re almost fooled into believing you’re in your actual bedroom, that this whole whirlwind adventure has finally come to an end—but the wallpaper doesn’t match yours and there’s a suit and tie hanging on the back of the closet door that you’ve never seen Marcus wear.

Exhaustion pulls at your eyelids and you blame it for the reason your brain slowly comprehends there’s a warm, familiar arm curled around your waist, fingers clenching at your nightgown tight enough the knuckles bleed white. 

Another nightmare, you realize, and you make the mistake of shifting to roll over. In a heartbeat, the hand releases your clothes and grabs your neck instead. The gesture itself is threatening, but there’s no pressure behind it, no tightness or squeezing. Still, your entire body freezes, eyes staring up at the wooden beams stretching across the ceiling. 

“Dave,” you murmur softly, hoping to gently ease him out of the nightmare’s grip. “Honey, you need to wake up, okay? It’s me. Your wife and—”

Your brain spasms, latching onto those two words and playing them over and over on replay. Your wife, your wife, your wife.

Your. Wife.

It makes sense logically that sooner or later you’d be dropped into a reality where you and a version of Marcus are married. But a selfish part of you also had been clinging with desperate fingers to the hope you wouldn’t, if only so you’d never know another husband other than Marcus.

If he even wanted to marry you, that is.

And if you ever made it home.

If, if, if...

You sigh, forgetting your precarious situation for a split second, and the movement of your chest rising and falling triggers Dave’s subconscious, awakening the slumbering monster within.

He rolls on top of you, the weight of his heavier body pressing yours into the mattress, and his fingers close around your throat like a noose, a promise of impending doom. In the shadows of night, his handsome face appears cold and menacing, devoid of any recognition. 

You once thought you could never be scared of him, but the only feeling flooding through your veins right now is bone-chilling fear.

“Dave,” you whimper, digging your nails into his arm, your instincts screaming at you to fight or die. “Dave, stop it!”

Your pulse becomes frantic, blood roaring in your ears as dark thoughts start to grow in your mind, mercilessly taunting you. He’s going to kill you. The person you love the most in this whole world is going to be your murderer.

In a state of frenzied panic, you wildly throw a hand out towards the nightstand, grabbing onto the first item your fingers touch—the cube, a fucking miracle of all miracles—and ram it  against Dave’s skull with a hoarse cry. 

Dave lets out a loud grunt of pain, falling sideways onto his side of the bed with a hand pressed against the bleeding wound. You don’t waste a second, clambering off the mattress and flipping on the lightswitch while leaning your trembling body against the wall. 

“Oh, fuck,” Dave gasps, looking grievously horror-stricken. You watch him round the bed, feeling like a mouse caught in a trap, and your stomach churns with disgust when blood drips down the side of his face onto his white t-shirt. “I’m so sorry, pretty, I’m so so sorry,” he murmurs over and over again, eyes glued to the bruising already starting to form on your neck.

You hug the cube to your heaving chest, then grimace when you accidentally rub blood on your nightgown. Your eyes keep flicking from the carpet to Dave and then back again, unable to stand looking at him for longer than a few seconds. Not only does it hurt you to see your usually resilient, self-assured husband resembling a man who’s had his heart torn out of his chest, but what makes the pain of it all sting even worse is the sudden influx of memories trying to cram themselves into the shelves of your mind, replacing precious Marcus moments with ones starring Dave.

Their similarities are staggering—both work as government agents for the DIA and FBI; both prefer to be clean-shaven, maybe just a hint of occasional scruff; both want to have kids, settle down in the suburbs somewhere; both have recently taken up jogging in the mornings, always bringing you back a coffee from your favorite cafe when they return.

But for all their shared traits, there are two glaring differences you force yourself to remember, tattooing them on the side of your brain: 

It’s Dave’s ring on your finger. Not Marcus’.

And Dave is haunted by the sins of his past—of bloodshed and bombs and the loss of his partner he was too late to save.

There’s Marcus and there’s Dave, you tell yourself. Two separate men. 

MarcusDave, your mind counters stubbornly, their faces superimposing over each other, details becoming blurred. DaveMarcus. 

Your grip on the cube tightens with the urge to flee as far away as you can from here.

As if he’s privy to your thoughts, Dave says, “Don’t go.”

“Dave…” Your voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard causing you both to wince.

“Just let me hold you, pretty girl,” he says softly, barely above a whisper. “Please.”

His plea pulls on your heartstrings, crumbling your resolve into dust. You step closer, reaching out to card your fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, then gently pulling him by the back of his neck into a hug. He all but melts against you, burying his face into your neck and arms wrapping around your smaller frame.

It’s strange, finding comfort from someone who minutes ago nearly killed you. Maybe it’s the knowledge that Dave would rather jump in front of a bullet than ever hurt you—consciously, at least—that gives you peace of mind in this moment. Or maybe it’s the way he keeps pressing kisses into your hair, murmuring apologies and confessions of love in-between each one.

You pull back, swallowing thickly when you glimpse the head wound again, still sluggishly bleeding scarlet. One of your dark thoughts lingers the same way smoke does after a fire, poisoning the air with its filth. This is not your reality, but it is pretty girl’s. And when you leave, there will be no cube to save her.

“Promise me something, Brown Eyes,” you say, placing a hand on his cheek. 

“Anything.”

“Get help. If not for your own sake, then for hers. For your future family’s.”

Confusion sparks in his eyes, no doubt wondering what the hell you’re meaning, but you don’t stay to explain, turning the cube again without hesitation. 

And maybe it’s foolish to hope he remembers your words, that they come to him in the darkness in the midst of his nightmares and spare him pain. Spare them both pain. But, then again, you’ve been a fool from the very beginning thinking you can solve a cursed cube where countless others have failed. 

So fuck it. You’re going to keep on hoping for the best until the bitter end, until your heart can’t break anymore.

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