#Angsty with a happy ending

[giggly-squiggily]

SQUIGGLY YOUR EVENT IS MY FAV PART OF FEBRUARY FOR REAL!!!

Welcome to order number one :>

I would loVE to see Miya and Joe with Miss You (“when’s the last time you smiled?”) and Only You. (“Could you…you know?”)

I am always here for father figure Joe 🙏😭

Here is my payment for my candy, I hope this will suffice!

That gif! *sobs* I love him so much! Thank you so much, Ducky! Both for the kind words and this prompt!!! Oh my goodness my heart and soul- Father figure!Joe is so good! I've gotcha covered, Ducky! Thank you for giving me the chance to write for these two!

A little angsty in the beginning because it had to happen

Miss You ("When's the last time you smiled?") + Only You ("Could you...you know).

“Hey there, little dude.” Joe grinned when he saw Miya walking up. That grin fell near instantly upon seeing the redness around the kid’s eyes. “Oh man- Miya, what happened?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Miya shook his head, looking like he was about to cry once more. Joe closed the distance almost immediately, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him close. “Joe, let me-”

“Don’t tell me to let go. Not when you’re crying.” Joe hushed him gently, rocking them both at a slow pace.

“I-I’m not- I’m not cr-crying.” Miya finally broke, small sobs escaping his lips as he clung to the bigger man. “Sh-Shut up, J-Joe.”

“There there.” Joe ran a hand through his hair. “Come on- let’s take a walk.”

~~~

“Ugh, bullies huh? I remember those days.” Joe shook his head in mild disgust as he and Miya walked along a scarcely filled park, boba drinks in hand. Miya had calmed down enough to talk and had given Joe the entire run down of his week. “Want me to come down there and scare them off for you? I did that for Cherry all the time back in our day.”

“It’s alright- they’d probably bully you too- wait, you did?” Miya sounded shocked, staring up at the bigger man with wide eyes. “For Cherry?”

“Of course! Well…actually, he scared off mine. Guy’s rather menacing when he wants to be.” Joe confessed, earning a snort from Miya. The sound suddenly made Joe think. “Hey Miya…when’s the last time you smiled?”

“I don’t remember. It’s been a bad week.” Miya confessed, bowing his head. When he looked up again, he seemed hesitant. “Hey…could you, you know?”

“Ah, you want me to do…this?” Joe pulled the smaller skater into him, his hand clawing gently at his belly and making Miya squeak with laughter. “This is what you want, right?”

“Johohoohohoe! Ahehahahhha! Coohohohome ohooohohn!” Miya giggled against him, nearly dropping his boba. Coming to a nearby bench, Joe quickly deposited both drinks there before scooping up Miya in one of his famous bear hugs, continuing to tickle. “Ahehaehahhahahhha, no fahahhahahhahir!”

“Yes fair! You asked for this, no?” Joe finally eased his tickles, letting Miya hang out in his arms like a ragdoll cat. “And if you ever need anything, just tell me. I’m here for you, kid. Both Cherry and I, Reki, Langa and Shadow. We’re your team. If those bullies bother you again, we’ll all show up and scare them off for you.”

“Pfft, you’re such a dork.” Miya laughed through new tears, smiling properly now. “But thank you. I appreciate it, Joe.”

“Heh, anytime, kiddo.”

~Send me a pairing and a candy heart phrase~

[stars-of-kyber]

I just read your newest one-shot "Your favorite things" and absolutely loved it! Could I make a request for a fic? Could you write about Anthony helping Kate deal with post-partum depression after having Edmund?

HELLO!

Gotta be honest here, you got me working like crazy with this prompt. It’s a bit far from my comfort zone and on such a sensitive topic like this, I ended up spending a bunch of time reading about PPD on the internet. But it was great to push myself like this. Thank you.

Actually, like most stuff, it got away from me and started getting pretty long, so I decided to divide it into two chapters. I’m posting the first part now and I’ll finish the second one in the next few days, hopefully. I’ll have it here and on my AO3 account.

Well, I hope I did your request justice and I’d love to hear your opinions on it.

Enjoy!

———————————————————————

Viscountess Kathani Bridgerton loved her son. She really did. Edmund was a lovely little thing, with coppery skin and a shocking amount of chestnut-coloured curly hair and he looked so much like Anthony it was startling. And he cried. A lot. Every single time she’d try to hold him, to be specific. And he refused to latch, he simply did not want her to feed him at all. But she really did love him.

She was just tired all the time, despite the fact she spent her entire day laying in bed, so sore and exhausted. All she seemed to have the disposition to do was take a stroll around the house before retiring back to her chambers. She sometimes would sit with Anthony in the study, watching silently as he worked. Sometimes she’d walk to the kitchen for some biscuits, even if she did not really feel hungry at all. She rarely visited the nursery, though. She did not want to risk sending the baby into another crying fit. But most of the day, she’d spent holed up in the sleeping chambers she shared with her husband, alone, doing absolutely nothing at all.

And yet, when night came, sleep eluded her. She’d toss and turn, her mind refusing to be lulled into the sweet relief of slumber, watching as Anthony’s breath would even out, even if he was a horrible sleeper. Most nights she saw the moon run its course in the sky, climbing steadily before falling down, the red and orange rays of sun dawning in the early morning sky.

And she’d feel hollow. She preserved most of her strength for the daytime when she had callers, mostly just family wanting to see the baby. Mary had stayed with her until a couple of weeks after she gave birth when Kate had insisted she’d go to Edwina, who was having a very complicated beginning of her pregnancy. Mary had not wanted to go, but Kate had insisted. Edwina had no family in Prussia but her husband. She had the entire Bridgerton brood to help her.

Kate enjoyed the people coming and going to visit her and the baby. They kept her distracted, even if it was just sitting with them as they interacted around her in the usual chaotic Bridgerton manner.

The problem was when they left and she was allowed time alone with her thoughts. During those long lonely periods when Anthony was in the Parliament, or working in the office, when she’d sit, the baby sleeping in a basket next to her or taken up to the nursery and Newton by her feet, she felt so completely miserable. During the darkest hours of the night, when she’d stare at the ceiling, her darkest thoughts caused the most ridiculous wind whirl of feelings and she had to get out of bed so Anthony wouldn’t wake up to her crying.

The doctor had assured her it was most common for her to still be having humour oscillations in the first few weeks after childbirth, as the body was still adjusting to a new reality. Yet, two months had come and gone, and the oscillations had turned into a melancholy she couldn’t quite shake. And she knew Anthony had noticed and he worried about her. She could tell by the way he watched her, the purple bags under her eyes more and more pronounced, the way he noticed her food going untouched more often and tried to always have something for her to nimble if she wanted, the way she didn’t spend enough time with their adorable little baby, avoiding the nursery all together if he was awake. But he didn’t pressure her.

Every time she’d get up from bed in the middle of the night, his arms would be waiting for her, ready to tug her back close to him “in his sleep”. He’d fill their silent meals with chatter about his siblings’ antics, his latest bill in the Parliament, a spot of trouble their tenants were having, the last correspondence from his Aunt visiting Lisbon. Anything but the baby. He’d sit behind her in bed, her hairbrush in his hand as he carefully pulled her tangled curls apart as she’d sit in stony silence, staring at a fixed spot on the wall.

And she did not deserve it.

He was the sweetest, most gentle person in the world and she did nothing to warrant it. He had chosen her to share his life with, to be his partner, the mother of his children and she was failing him in every single one of the accounts. She had trouble managing the household and the staff, her mind jumbling around the words as the maid came to her with menus to approve and correspondence to reply. Most days, she couldn’t keep much of a conversation, nothing of note coming to mind as they’d sit together, his voice trying a little desperately to fill the cold silence. She was barely a mother, escaping the presence of their child altogether most of the time, watching him and the baby from afar as he visited the nursery, Anthony being the loving and doting father she’d always known he’d be. She felt guilty. She felt worthless. She was terrified of the moment her husband would realize what a mistake loving her was. Maybe there was a reason she’d always been so sure she’d have no children at all, in the end.

She broke down nine weeks and three days after Edmund was born. The nurse had brought the sleeping baby to her, placing his resting form next to her on the large bed. Even the nurse seemed to understand it was for the best if she only saw him when he was not awake. She longed to touch him, place her hand over his little chest and feel his soft breathing, but she was so, so scared he’d wake and refuse her once again, that he’d start crying. She did not want him to cry. She did not want to feel angry at his little desperate tears. She should not feel mad at her baby because he was crying.

So she sat there, just looking at him, her hands wrapped around each other carefully over her lap. It was how Anthony found her, some forty minutes after the baby had been handed to her. He entered the bedroom, his eyes flickering from her to Edmund. Had he been looking for her? For Edmund? Had he been worried about leaving her alone with the baby? Should he be?

With the softest smile, he placed a tender kiss on her forehead before reaching his hand out to stroke their son’s mane of curly hair.

“Don’t!” She cried in a sharp whisper, her hand closing around his wrist a little desperately. “He’s sleeping.”

Anthony eyed her for a moment before nodding, sitting himself opposite her, the baby between them as they both watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, silence stretching itself into long minutes. Eventually, Edmund began to stir, his little fists opening and closing as his head moved from side to side, making panic swell into her chest, settling there with a vice-like grip, making it difficult to breathe.

“Kate…” Her desperation must have been obvious in her eyes because she could hear the hurt resignation in Anthony’s voice when he called out her name.

“Can you take him back to the nursery?” Her voice was high-pitched, quivering slightly as she pleaded with her eyes for him to understand. “Take him back to the nursery now, please.” The words were harsher than she intended when he didn’t move at first, but Anthony did not look angry, just sad. In a second, he had the wakening baby in his arms, cooing softly as he exited the room with just another worried backward glance at her.

Kate just couldn’t deal with the desperate, sad, despondent looks, with the burning disappointment she just knew he was feeling. She curled up on her side of the bed, her knees pressed tightly to her chest, sobs wracking her body. She heard the door open and close behind her and the shuffling sound of quick footsteps before Anthony’s strong arms pulled her shaking sore body against him, her back to his chest. Her sobs had subsided to a silent stream of tears as his hand caressed her arm soothingly.

“I don’t think I love him.” She confessed miserably, her eyes focused on the curtain closed over the window ahead of her, her voice so low it was barely a whisper, but she knew he had heard her by the way his body stiffened at her words. “I want to but I don’t think I know how.”

Anthony was silent for a very long time as if deciding what to say to her. Would he express her disappointment in her weakness? Would he be angry? Would he tell her she was being ridiculous because every mother should love their child? He didn’t. He didn’t point out her mistakes, or called out her deficiencies or even tried to tell her how she really was feeling.

“I am so sorry you feel this way.” He whispered against her hair. She could hear the way his words seemed pained, his voice catching at the end of the sentence.

“I don’t think he likes me either.” Saying these things out loud, things that previously only belonged to the inside of her head in the dark hours in which her thoughts roamed free, was painful. It felt like admitting to her failures, like accepting they were there, that they were not just some silly ideas in her head. “He cries every time I’m around, and I get angry at his crying, and he cries, even more, the angrier I get. And I feel horrible because I shouldn’t be angry at my own baby, should I?” Kate was thankful for Anthony’s silence as she took a deep breath, willing herself to let the thoughts pour out of her chest. It was easier to do so with her back turned to him but his arms comforting around her, his hands caressing her softly, patiently, the heat of his body enveloping her. “I barely feel like leaving the bed most days. Everything irritates me. No book interests me, I barely wished to touch any food at all the past month and I can’t even sleep. I feel like a horrible mother. Which mother hides from their child all day long? What is wrong with me Anthony?!”

“There is nothing wrong with you. You’re not a horrible mother.” He affirmed into her hair, his tone still gentle but firm now, his heart pounding against her back. “You’re feeling overwhelmed and you need some time to yourself to understand it. My mother…”

“Your mother had just lost your father, the love of her life!” She snapped, her voice harsh, making him flinch. “She was greaving. I have absolutely no reason to be feeling like this.”

“I don’t think you need a reason to feel like this, my love.” He commented quietly, his hand resting on her waist.

“Sometimes, I think…” She forced herself to speak, her eyes closed, the tears leaking from their corners, forming little wet circles where they landed on the sheets. It was her dark, most horrible thought, the one she, herself avoided thinking about at all. In her worst moments, when she was most lonely and desperate it would surface in her mind, leaving her sick and dizzy afterwards. “Wouldn’t it be better if I died when Edmund was little, so he wouldn’t have to remember me at all?”

Anthony swirled her around forcefully, his hands harsher than they’d ever been, until she was face to face with him, chest to chest, his eyes a little wild as he stared down at her.

“There is absolutely no reality in which you leaving us could be better, Kate. You must understand that. Please. I cannot do this without you.”

She could see the pained tears forming in his desperate eyes, his face just a couple of inches from his, his breaths shallow. He gathered her in his arms as she dimly noticed her entire body shaking. Her breaths were raggedy and fast as the tears washed her face harder than before.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed against his shirt. “I don’t know why I am like this. Most of the time I am horrified at the idea, but some moments I just feel so miserable and…” She needed to stop speaking to be able to catch her breath. “It makes me feel sick, thinking about it. It only comes to me when I am too overwhelmed. I don’t understand it. I don’t know why I feel like this. I’m sorry.” The silence took over the room, only her harsh breathing echoing in the walls. He held her close, his face on her hair and his arms wrapped tightly around her as if he was afraid she’d vanish in a moment. His hands were trembling lightly around her back.

“After my father died…” He began, speaking the words in a hushed whisper into her curls. “My mother barely left the bed. My siblings were destroyed. Eloise would scream herself hoarse every night. Francesca simply stopped speaking for four months. Greg was so little, he didn’t understand. He kept asking for Father. And I couldn’t feel anything at all. It was like my entire body was numb. I would go through my day because I had no other choice. My siblings needed me. The estate needed me. It felt like I would never feel anything ever again. I couldn’t even bring myself to cry.” He spoke methodically as if he had been nothing but a spectator on it all like he was recounting someone else’s feelings. “I used to wish it was me instead of Father.”

“And how did you make it stop?” His brow furrowed as if it was the first time he’d ever stopped to think about it before he shrugged.

“I don’t know.” She watched him as he tried to puzzle out what had happened in the months after his father passed when he’d taken over all the responsibilities that should not have been his. It was a topic they had discussed many times before, but every time there was some side of their loss that seemed new. “I remember sitting with Hyacinth one night when she wouldn’t sleep some eight months after he died. I think Eloise was there as well. She was barely sleeping at all at the time, El. I was tired. It was close to the harvest and there was so much work to do. And Hyacinth would wake and only settle with me. So I’d take her to the office. We were sharing a glass of warm milk, I think. You know Hy, she could never stay still for long, not even as a baby. She managed to hit it and drop the entire thing on me. Not a drop on her, even if she was on my lap. She let out these big adorable baby giggles. Then I looked at Eloise, she looked shocked for a moment. I thought she might cry, her face was all red, her eyes huge, and then she surprised me. She started laughing so hard she could barely breathe. I think it was the first time I heard her laugh aloud since father passed.” Kate gently ran her fingers on his cheek, wiping away the lone tear that he had barely seemed to notice that had escaped. “Eloise started laughing and I felt so… relieved. Because Eloise would be okay. And so would Hyacinth and Greg and the others. I ended up laughing with them, completely covered in warm milk, in the middle of the night in the office.” He took a deep breath, his eyes finally drifting down to her face, watching her with so much tenderness it had Kate’s eyes watering all over again. “I think this was the moment I realized that things would be alright. It would never go back to what it was before. Not without my father. But that… hollowness? That would eventually go away.” He cleared his throat, pressing a loving, soothing kiss to her forehead. “It will go away, Kate. It will pass.” He whispered into her skin, his words burning into her, settling deep into her heart. “No matter what, my love, you’ll still have me. You’ll always have me, Kathani Bridgerton.”

“Thank you.” She whispered into his shirt, closing her eyes and allowing the scent of her husband to surround her, his warmth soothing away her tears. She was not exactly well, but pushing her feelings out of her chest, having them out in the open, raw and painful for him to see, seemed to make her entire body lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her.

She was not close to being better. She suspected that it might be a long and hard way before she’d be back to herself, if she ever truly would.

The feeling of guilt and shame still swirled on her chest, but something else was there, blossoming as a flower coming back to life during the spring. Anthony loved her. Anthony understood. He might be frustrated, worried and hurting by seeing her like that. But he would never desert her.

And there, with her husband’s hand on her back, his caring words, his easy reassurances, she felt less alone.

And well, that in itself was a step forward, was it not?

Send me a pairing and a number and I'll write you a drabble.

[toughbunnyforever]

the beginning and the end

[hoonatic]

emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable. 

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you’d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself. 

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you. 

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms. 

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

[sourcabbages]

tfw ur avian teammate hates ur guts

aka my super self indulgent breath of the wild au

[cryptidmickle]

so what if. and hear me out. i made my own au for shadowvanilla purposes-

au details below

HELLO SO I PRESENT AMNESIAC AU

so you see, i was minding my business, drawing and looking at cookies and how everyone has their own cool aus with awesome designs and i went "well im not very good at designing but i Love putting characters in Situations"

this au is mostly focused on shadowvanilla so dont be too hopeful I'll get into the other cookies besides their little circle, im ill for gay yaoi only okay

So! motions to comic above, amnesia smilk time! let me elaborate

Pure vanilla fucked up BIG TIME, in that he maybe ventured out to beast yeast alone to try and find out more about the beasts and a way to stop them, as people with a savior complex have a habit of doing. Maybe, perhaps, also at the same time, smilk was getting the workings of his new dough body done and sensing pv was nearby decided to take the opportunity to torment him a little, yknow he cant help himself! he needs to see him

a nasty little fight and confrontation in some old structures of smilk (or at the spire) result in pv using a strange spell he spotted in the surrounding papers and documents, and .... accidentally cracks smilk's soul jam! hehe, oops!

and also sealing his memories. double oops. damn, what are you gonna do now pv?

well he cant leave confused smilk alone here, and itd honestly be best the other beasts and dark enchantress dont drag him back there in this state, so he offers a hand.

"Come with me. We can help you, I'll make sure you're okay."

a memory-less smilk is confused by this but... he's already grabbing the other cookie's hand before he realizes it. It'll probably be fine, something about this cookie... makes something in him feel okay.

taps forehead, im still working everything out of course, and i WILL be cursing all of you with sketchy stuff about it when I'm able, i need more time to figure out smilk's behaviors without the soul jam and corruption

of course I'm always of the mind that pre-corruption smilk was kind of a rat and rude but how exactly is the real question!! how bad was it before the corruption exacerbated the negative qualities of knowledge and his personality

anyways,,, feel free to ask questions!! it could help me figure this all out, if yall are interested of course,,,,,,,my,,,, handful of crk followers SNRRKS

[bluefeather-tmnt]

next

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well. 

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[mysteriousmissme]

we're so back mitsukouers

[thesongistheriver]

Arthur stripped off his nightclothes and stepped into the water, hissing a bit at how it was slightly too hot. That never happened when Merlin was—Stop! he ordered himself. If Merlin didn’t have time to serve him any longer, then that was how it would be. 

Regardless, the thought had made something nasty settle in the pit of his stomach. After he’d gotten over his—episode, he decided to call it, earlier, he’d tried to work out why Merlin stepping away from his duties troubled him so deeply. It wasn’t as though he were leaving Camelot entirely, and even if he were …

Except Merlin had never been anywhere but by Arthur’s side. Despite a less than auspicious first—and second—meeting, they had fallen into each other’s orbit so quickly that Arthur himself could scarcely recall the last time he had undertaken any endeavour, large or small, without Merlin. Over the years, Merlin had learned to read Arthur perfectly, every mood, every thought, and most surprising, Arthur welcomed it. Uther had drilled it into him that a prince and future king could trust no one—trust was a vulnerability. 

But it wasn't, with Merlin.

[rosietrace]

The way I avoid angsty non-mc-reader fics like the PLAGUE bc I know damn well I'm gonna cry my eyes out

.... And I STILL end up reading them

[juicybvns]

Simon x fem reader

A/n: Ghost angst usually hits the best

—

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who thinks about you the whole 4 months he was deployed

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who’s heart aches just thinking about his wife is all alone and been expecting him since last month

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who stares at the door nervous to walk in but excited to see you maybe cuddling a cup of coffee on the couch like your usual morning routine

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who’s eyes burn a bit, rimming with tears under his mask when he sees you almost spill your coffee when you look towards the door

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who drops his bag and and lifts his mask up when you stand up and stumble to him

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who squeezes you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who holds your head against his shoulder and he closes his eyes to let it sink in that he’s finally home

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who breathes in your scent when a tear drops from his eye

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who hears your sniffle and brings you’re head face to face with him while he looks into your eyes and smiles

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who kisses you like he would never see you again, taking away your breath

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who then gently brings his forehead to yours and says “I missed you so much, love.”

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who kisses you again and guides you to the bedroom

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who lays you down and removes his shirt by grabbing it from the back and bringing it over his head

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who shows you how much he missed his wife by giving you hours of pleasure and his undevoted attention

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who, a few weeks later drops to his knees to hug your stomach when you tell him your pregnant

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who promises to love, cherish, and protect his new and long wanted family <3

[haveihitanerve]

Bruce makes it in time to get to Jason. But… is it enough to save him?

“Master Bruce-“ “I’m almost there Alfred.” Bruce bites back, almost breaking his wrist by how hard he twists the motorcycle accelerator. And he is. He can see the warehouse. Bruce lands, not even bothering to slow, leaping off the bike as it crashes into the trees and he sprints for the doors, terrified he’ll make it too late, that he won’t be fast enough for his son. The door slams open, Bruce not even bothering to check if it’s locked or not, just plowing it down, and hurries inside, spotting his son within a moment. Jason opens his eyes in surprise, mouth curving to form a perfect O. “Br- Batman.” He whispers, voice hoarse with disbelief. Bruce rushes to his side, cupping his cheek, cradling the boy- his boy, to his chest. “Jay. Jay bird. Jaylad. Hey firecracker. Hey bud.” Jason’s eyes fill with tears and Bruce does his best to wipe them away, to press a kiss to his son's forehead. “You came.” Jason whispers, tears clogging his throat. “Of course baby.” Bruce murmurs, rocking back and forth. “Of course I came, baby. I will always come for you. Always.” He presses another kiss to Jason’s head. “I love you son. I love you, I love you, I love you.” “I love you too-“ Jason rasps, but his eyes catch something on the wall behind him. “Dad, wait- the bomb-“ the explosion shakes the very earth, and Gotham seems to curl in on herself, screaming with a pain and rage that is unimaginable. In a basement cave in the middle of Gotham, a butler's hands go cold. A man, wearing a blue mask a city over, suddenly feels a chill sweep over him, and something inside him, probably his heart, feels like it’s been torn in two.

Their bodies are found, or at least what’s left of them, two days later, the larger man wrapped almost completely around the smaller, cradling his boy to his chest. Nightwing almost beats Joker to death and is only stopped by three others, all of which seem just as inclined to kill him, but resist. Gotham mourns, earthquakes shaking the ground, warehouses crumbling to dust, and Joker is found drowned in the harbor, the fishes whisper of a presence so old and strong even the biggest fish feared her, and Aquaman shudders. Gothamites mourn their fallen Prince and his adopted son, but Gotham mourns her prodigal sons, her children, her oldest and youngest, and cradles the last survivor to her chest, cloaking him in shadows and gifting him all the things she did not give the others, the things she thought they wouldn’t need so long as they had each other, the things she had not yet granted them ready for. She drapes them over the young, jaded hero, gifting him sight and smell and sound, allowing him to control her shadows and her streets and most of all… gifting him flight, the way his namesake first claimed, the way her firstborn child and her youngest were never able to. The Vulture takes to the Gotham skyline like a moth to open flames, perhaps a little less withdrawn with his punches, perhaps a little more protective of young boys, but belonging to Gotham all the same. The Joker stole something from her, and she will never allow it to happen again. The Vulture gains followers, friends, the Starling, the Goldfinch, the Owl, the Crow, the Cardinal, and Robin, all under Gothams protection, and she has him watch, from his watery prison, as they protect her, defend their city from the ilk like him, not giving in to their rage and revenge, but helping, rebuilding Gotham in his image. Their image. The man who saw hope, and his son. Batman and Robin.

(In case it was unclear, the three people pulling dick away from Joker are Babs, Kate and Luke, and then the Vulture is dick, and his friends, in order as listed, are Stephanie, Duke, Babs, Cass, Tim, and Damian. Also Gotham does kill Joker because she knows dick cannot but she also keeps him half alive, suspended in time, destined to drown for all eternity and watch as the bats succeed in honor of Batman the man he fought against.)

[hauntedhotel]

Kinda obsessed with the difference between Martin's perspective during the apocalypse and Jon’s.

It's the difference between "I know you might hate me right now" and "I love you, I always will, and I know you love me"

It's the difference between Jon not being able to trust anyone, not even himself, but never for a second doubting that Martin loves him and Martin never being sure Jon’s feelings for him won't change.

It's the difference between Jon not always being loved perfectly and Martin having never been loved before.

It's Jon spending the entire apocalypse telling every monster they come across that Martin is his boyfriend, have you met Martin, this is his boyfriend Martin, his anchor, his last tie to humanity, his reason to still be hoping for a better ending. It's Martin telling his Lonely-self that if it comes down to it he'll ask Jon to destroy him and not being sure whether Jon will say no.

Even the jealousy, which is slightly played for laughs, still comes down to Jon being like "aw my boyfriend's getting all possessive 🥰" whereas deep down Martin has never let go of the idea that under different circumstances Jon could do better.

They're more emotionally open with each other during the apocalypse than they are for the years leading up to it, and they still don't stop misunderstanding each other.

[claws-and-quills]

Stay With Me

A/N: This was a little more self-indulgent for me, ngl. Old Man Logan seriously deserves more love and attention.

CW: mentions of blood, old scars, talks of death

Word Count: 1,391

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Everything felt like a blur. Where had the time disappeared over the years? You clenched your teeth, looking at your beaten and bloodied reflection staring back at you in the mirror. Your hands still trembled with shock, pain, and adrenaline. Your stomach churned at the sight. Blood stained your blouse that was now riddled with bullet holes.

“Logan?” You finally work up the courage to call out to him. The back of your throat burned with unspoken emotions. You could hear the soft grunts echoing down the hallway; your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. “Logan?!”

Swallowing thickly, you rush out of the room. How long have you been out? An audible gasp falls from your lips at the sight of him slumped tiredly against the wall. He looked to be in just as bad of shape as you, if not worse. You fall to your knees in front of him, tenderly cupping his cheeks in your hands. His gaze meets yours, a soft grimace at his lips.

“Hey…m’not dead yet. I'm not that easy to kill just yet,” He cups your cheek in his hand. Your stomach tied itself into knots at his words. Time has been so cruel to you, and to especially Logan; the reality felt like a swift kick to your gut.

“Don't say that. I know you're no spring chicken, but….that's something I'd rather not think about…” Your eyes remain focused on his, searching his features, memorizing every scar, every crease, every perfect little imperfection. 

A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest; though, he immediately winces at the movement. Life had been so much darker, harder even ever since the X-Men had slowly dwindled and smoldered down to mere foggy memories. You slowly take one of his hands into both of yours and tenderly kiss his knuckles. Tears picked the corners of your eyes. This was never how you imagined life would be; not like this, not living day to day with fear of the unknown. It felt as though it took every ounce of your energy not to let the tears fall from your eyes and down your cheeks.

Logan furrows his brows tightly as he watches you. His eyes, though tired and painful, soften at the sight of you. He could smell the fear, the pain, and the relief that radiated from your body. He cups your cheek with his other hand. His fingers were rough and calloused against the tender skin of your cheek, but you didn't mind it one bit. You lean into his touch, savoring how his hand felt on your skin, how his natural scent still held onto the aroma of rustic oak, leather, and a touch of mint.

“Hey…m'just a little banged up. Don't heal like I used to before. It's going to take more than this to keep me down…” His voice was soft, hoarse even as he fought to speak through the pain. You knew he was right, though. You were blessed and cursed to see him over the decades, centuries even,  as time slowly kept its way onto his face and across his body. You nod stiffly, slowly opening your tearful eyes to meet his gaze. “C'mon, don't cry. Hey…I'm still alive now, aren't I? Don't cry, Pretty Girl. Please…”

“Lo…” You croak, your voice shaky and uncertain. Your eyes finally open and rest on his tired face. You slowly get to your feet, tugging at his hand to try to get him to follow. Just as in your younger days, he refused to budge at first. Grunting, he slowly gets to his feet, and the small clink of spent bullets hitting the ground followed him through his movements. “You look a mess…” your voice was hushed, barely a whisper. The expression in your eyes told Logan everything he needed to know and hear. He didn't try to put up a fight, nor did he try to give you a hard time; in a rare moment, he let you lead him away to be properly cared for.

You cover your mouth to keep another gasp at bay after you have worked his bloodied beater up and over his head, revealing the bullets that were still lodged deep within his chest, arms, and abdomen. It was painful for you to watch as he struggled to force the bullets out from the wounds they had left behind within his skin and body. The breath you were holding became stuck in your throat, almost suffocating you as you watched in painful silence.

“Lo…” you say softly and slowly wrap your arms around him from behind. His skin was hot against your cheek as you rested your cheek against his bare back. Hot tears began to roll down your cheeks. You couldn't hold it back any longer; the pain became too much to hold back. You press a tender kiss against his back between his shoulder blades, followed by another over an old scar that had been left behind from what you only imagined had been a sentinel. With every metallic clink that came from the bullets that fell into the sink, you could feel Logan's body tense and relax, forcing the bullets out.

He slowly rests his hands on top of yours; his fingers tenderly caressing your arms. For a second, you could have sworn you heard him exhale a shaky breath before he turned to face you. His eyes were soft and concerned; his gaze tenderly fixed on you. Your eyes finally meet his. He looked tired, pitiful even. It felt as though a thorn bush had wrapped its thorns around your heart, tearing into it with every beat.

“Stay with me…please…” The words fell from your lips without a single thought. He tenderly takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up towards his.

“I'm not going anywhere…hey…I promise, I'll never let go…” He rasps softly against the top of your head. His lips press a tender kiss to the crown of your head as he wraps his arms around you tightly. “How bad is it…did they hurt you…”

You shake your head against his chest. Parts of you were unsure as to how much of the blood that was on you was yours or the agents that had hunted you and Logan down. You didn't care if you were injured; all you knew in that moment was that you didn't want to let go of him. A soft breath catches in your throat at the sensation of his fingers hooking into the bottom of your blouse, tugging it up your body to be gently pulled up over your head and gently dropped onto the floor. Your wounds had healed for the most part, but you still appeared to be in rough shape.

“I'm okay…I…let me help you…please…” You speak softly, to which Logan nods. Standing on your tiptoes, you place a chaste and tender kiss on his lips. His arms snake back around your body, pulling you in close against his chest.

“Only if you let me help you…” He murmured into the kiss. His thumbs rub small circles onto your hips. You finally nod, sniffling as he pressed his forehead against yours.

Once in the shower together, the hot water felt heavenly against your and his sore body. The pain in his eyes faded away as he watched you. His eyes close at how tenderly you caress his chest, pressing a chaste kiss over his heart. A soft, quiet, appreciative moan rumbles deep in his throat near the top of his chest as you start to wash the dried blood away from his chest and arms. It was the small intimate moments like this that made him fall in love with you all over time and time again.

“I'm sorry, Darlin’...” His voice is soft. You lift your gaze to see him watching you with soft, loving eyes. “I'm sorry you have to endure this…all of this…”

His words felt like a hot poker had been stabbed through your heart. You shake your head slowly. “I would rather go through 1,000 hells with you than live in a 1,000 heavens without you…”

He cups your cheeks in his hands, pulling you in close for a tender kiss. “I love you…”

“I love you too, Logan. Always and forever…” You whisper softly against his lips.

[actual-changeling]

Y'know Scully needed to be pregnant during season 8 or she would have offed herself the second Mulder was dead and buried. Just leave the grave open, Skinner, she'll jump right after him and call it a day—same thing with their roles reversed.

There's only so much she can take, and finding Mulder dead in that field without a pregnancy giving her a reason to keep living would have been too much by a mile. She would have suffocated on the emptiness he left behind.

Even in canon, Skinner and her mom must have had one hell of a time taking care of her after the funeral 'cause i don't think Scully was particularly eager to go through her daily routines except to avoid not perishing on the spot.

While they were still searching for him, she was visibly numb to the world and lost the spark that had survived all the way through their numerous kidnappings, the cancer arc, Emily, Antarctica, weird brain diseases and stranded alien spaceships, and failed IVF.

No Mulder, no faith, no life. For them, it really is that simple.

And the thing is that we get used to seeing her like that! We know something is wrong, we know what is wrong—what is missing—but it only really hits you how much of a walking corpse she was once Mulder is breathing again.

Before his return, she wears exclusively dark, muted colours and high-collared shirts; a lot of the time, she's completely drowning in her black coat. Her cross necklace is invisible and hidden away, she solves cases and does her job, sure, yet there's no actual joy or excitement, no scientific wonder.

Without mulder, the x files are reduced to simply that: files. There's nothing to fight for without him.

This is the only Scully Doggett (and Reyes) get to know, their understanding of her and Mulder's relationship is based on rumours and stories, and what little they can extricate from Scully herself.

Then they find him, they bury him, they bring him back to life, and the SECOND she feels and sees him breathing, his heart beating, that spark roars back to life. There's more determination and liveliness in her eyes during this one conversation with Doggett than when some fucking cult whackos shove a worm up her spine and try to make her their worm god carrier.

But no matter what Mulder's chances are, the choice not to open up that grave was wrong.

You could have dropped her in front of his grave with nothing but her bare hands and a mission, and she would have dug him up and wished him back to the world of the living all by herself.

They're irrevocably bound together, they need each other not just to survive but to LIVE period, and god help anyone who comes between them.