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[dorkhellbside]

HELLO!

this is desta-joy-d-etc-etc comin' in hot with another homestuck blog as referenced by the b side in the url. the main one would be @conceptofjoy.

general info and content warnings under the cut. suggested ages 16+, and no stri-cest shippers please and thank you.

every hal panel on a google word doc (WIP) collaborative music yt playlist view link || invite link send an ask by if you just want to rec a song.

aggregate of dirkhal content; im using the ship name here, but i really just mean any weirdly intense interaction between the two. i love studying them with a magnifying glass. hashtag alter hal truther.

i fuck heavy with dirkjakehal. we might have to fight if i see a mf diss english with their whole chest.

huge fan of t-fem hal and t-masc dirk. you'll probably see me she/they hal a lot. i have a human design of hal i default to that exists in my imaginary post canon scenario. more deets on the other blog but there's not a whole lotta story, i'm afraid.

no 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝, any reblogs i make will be avoiding posts with those tags, and i'm a very liberal with blocking if you apply them to my own ^_^. we can hash out the ethics of hypothetical clone fucking, but like, really? is this what we want to be doing? don't like don't follow and i'll be doing the same.

CONTENT TAGGING! this is important. there will be heavy discussions and depictions of abysmal mental health and power imbalances and i will try to be top of that shit with the tags, but also tell me if you need something tagged even if its not "thaaat serious". subjects/ tags may include: physical abuse, verbal abuse, codependency, decapitation, gore, (those will be tagged separately), self harm, unreality and disassociation, freud and incest as it is discussed thematically in homestuck, suicide and suicidal ideation, intrusive thoughts, dubious consent, suggestive content, nudity, nsfw. the list's always gonna be a work in process, learnin' as i go here. also, cause of their general consent issues and the nature of their relationship, it's like... ok, what im saying is, not posting rape. totes reasonable to not trust a rando on the internet with what qualifies as ""dubious consent"", do what you need to do brah.

src

[hellothereobiwankenobi]

yellow ribbon on the door | chapter two

⟢ summary: Tommy convinces Joel to cover for him, and complete the repairs at your flower shop.

⟢ pairing: joel miller x afab!reader (femme but not descriptive as to actual features)

⟢ tags: no outbreak au, flower shop au, idiots in love, small age gap, joel is 35 and reader is 29 about to be 30, reader is a war widow, operation desert storm mentioned, reader is a single mother to ellie, eventual smut, no beta reader we die like men

⟢ wc: 3.2K

⟢ authors notes: Well, let me start by saying thank you for everyone who read chapter one! And an extra thank you to everyone who left such kind comments. I am so appreciative to everyone who has interacted with this story so far.

ꕥ previous │ navigation ꕥ

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The following Monday morning, Joel carries tools back and forth from the garage into the bed of his work truck. He loves this part of his morning routine. It was still early enough that most of his neighbors were in their homes getting ready for work and late enough that all the school-aged children on his street had already been picked up by big yellow buses. It was quiet enough for Joel to get some peace, sip his coffee, organize his tools how he liked, and hear the morning birds sing overhead.

Joel had a busy day ahead of him. He needed to pick up the drywall order for tomorrow's job, place a new order for the correct sized plumbing hardware for a client's kitchen remodel (he knew he shouldn't have trusted Tommy with taking the measurements), and he hoped to stop by elderly Mrs. Williams' home to make sure the handrails he installed in her shower last week were to her liking. He also had an important meeting with a real estate development firm about framing the main entryway of a new apartment complex being built in the city. Landing this job could open more doors for his and Tommy’s business, and it offers a sizable payout.

He grabs his colt coffee mug from the edge of the tailgate before finishing it off. As Joel closes the tailgate, the cell phone clipped to his belt rings. He removes it from his belt and hits the green answer button without checking the caller ID "Miller Brothers Contracting."

"Joel, it's me." Tommy's voice comes through the speaker pressed to his ear "I screwed up, man."

What is it now? Joel thinks. This is far from the first time he has heard his younger brother speak those words over the phone. But this type of call usually comes in the middle of the night and is preceded by a robotic voice stating, "This is a collect call from the Travis County Jail—Central Booking. Do you accept the charges?"

There is no way Tommy has already gotten himself arrested. It's not even eight in the morning.

Joel prepares for the worst. "What now?" 

Tommy explains that he double-booked himself today. He promised to come by your store this morning, but after checking his schedule, he realized he couldn’t make it across town in time for his next client—not in Austin traffic, at least.

"I need you to go and help her out," Tommy adds desperately. "I'll owe you one."

"Already do," Joel reminds him. 

Maybe it was his fault. Joel always felt that, as the older brother, it was his responsibility to bail Tommy out of his messes. Joel couldn't count how many times during Tommy's high school years he had picked him up in the wee hours of the morning because he was too drunk to drive home and too afraid to call their parents. Or the time Tommy ran his mouth off to a couple of good ol' boys at a local dive bar, and Joel had to join in when the fists started flying. Or when Tommy threw a party while their parents were in Mexico visiting family, and one of his friends punched a hole right through the bathroom door because it "wouldn't open." Joel had spent the little money he had on the supplies needed for a patch job good enough that their father wouldn't notice.

"Joel, please. I'm beggin' here." Tommy pleads.

Joel drags his large hand down his face and sighs, "Fine."

"You're a lifesaver. I'll buy us a round tonight as thanks." Tommy rushes out the address of your shop, and the line goes dead as he quickly disconnects the call.

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

Joel sits in the driver's seat of his truck, eyes closed, both hands white-knuckling on the steering wheel, parked outside of your store: Iris-istible. Tommy hadn't mentioned you were a florist.

Joel takes a deep inhale and tries to give himself a quick pep talk. Just go in, tighten a bolt or two, and get out, he tells himself.

Joel gathers the strength to climb out of the cab and grab his navy blue toolbag from the truck bed. As he enters through the shop's front door, a small bell chimes and announces his presence. Three long, natural wood tables take up most of the floor space of the small storefront. The walls are exposed brick in alternating shades of deep burgundy and mahogany brown outlined in grey grout. Wooden shelves displaying premade arrangements, and various house plants in mismatched containers line the store's perimeter. A complex crystal chandelier hangs overhead, illuminating the cozy store front.

Joel looks to his left, and there you are, standing behind a waist-high butcher block counter stacked high with books on the language of flowers and beginner's guides to starting a garden. A goldenrod watering can and an old-fashioned register frame either side of the counter. 

Your back is turned toward the door while you fiddle with the soil of a potted orchid. You're wearing a pair of denim overalls over a short-sleeve white t-shirt. The straps of a sunshine yellow apron wrap over your shoulders and tie neatly in a bow around your waist at the center of your back. 

Your whole body whips around to face the entryway when you hear the bell's chime ringing out through the small shop. You are positively beaming, smiling ear-to-ear.

"Tommy, I thought you'd nev—" Your words die in your throat, and your smile melts away as you make eye contact with the older Miller brother.

"Sorry to disappoint," Joel grumbles, averting his eyes from you. There is an uncomfortable heat running up the back of his neck. Joel wouldn't describe himself as a proud man, but your ever-present fondness for his brother is on full display this morning, making him regret his decision to come.

You stand unblinking, still holding the potted orchid between your perfectly manicured fingers. French tips. Or at least that's what he thinks Sarah calls them.

"No," you come back to your senses and forcefully shake your head. A smile, while much smaller than the previous one, pulls back on your lips. "Not at all. Just surprised."

Joel could be just imagining it, but what looks like a rosy blush blossoms on the apples of your cheeks. From embarrassment or something else, he isn't sure.

Joel's feet remain planted just inside the entrance. He doesn't dare take another step into the store. Maybe it's not too late to leave.

"Let me show you where the walk-in is." You place the orchid on the counter and wipe away any remaining potting soil from your fingers onto your apron.

You step out from behind the counter and wave a hand for Joel to follow. You hold open the black, swinging door labeled "Employees Only" that leads to the store's backroom.

The back room was larger than Joel would have expected—maybe about half the size of the main storefront. Bags of potting soil and mulch are stacked against the wall next to a shelf of extra terracotta pots and crystal vases. A tall, light-colored workbench is pushed against the opposite wall. It is littered with discarded bruised petals and the clipped ends of flower stems.

On the back wall, there is a large silver door with a sizable latching handle. You place both hands on the handle and give it a couple of good tugs until it clicks open. You look over your shoulder with an embarrassed smile as you pull the door open. "Sorry, it sticks sometimes."

You and Joel finally step into the cooler. You had already turned off the A/C unit in anticipation of having it repaired. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling shelving, all filled with different varieties of flora. Some flowers Joel could recognize: roses, daisies, daffodils. But most of them he had never seen before. A few even looked like something you'd find while hiking on a tropical vacation.

His eyes moved from the myriad of colored foliage to the ceiling. At the center is a small, two-fan A/C unit. He's not tall enough to reach it by only standing. He sets down his bag on the floor, directly below the unit. "I'll need to graby a ladder."

"Mhm," you nod, "whatever you need. I'll leave it to the expert."

You both exit the walk-in and head back to the front of the store. You return to your original position behind the counter as Joel exits to retrieve what he needs from the truck. 

He re-enters the building carrying the six-foot ladder under his left arm. You're working on an arrangement of pink roses and yellow Asiatic lilies in a stubby vase. You place the flowers absentmindedly in the vase as you watch him walk by. Joel's biceps flex under the ladder's weight, causing them to pull the fabric of his short-sleeved, forest green cotton tee shirt taut around them.

You could always tell Joel was strong. He filled out his clothing in a way that only a man who'd worked physical labor his whole life could: broad shoulders, large biceps, and a strong chest kept hidden under a few layers of thin fabric.

Once Joel has disappeared into the back half of the shop, you let out a ragged breath and refocus on the bouquet in front of you.

You tried to keep busy with orders and reorganizing display shelves, but your mind kept wandering back to the man inside your walk-in cooler. Thankfully, a customer came in to distract you—a well-dressed, clean-shaven young man looking for a gift for his mother's birthday. 

"She loves tulips," he explained. You showed him the premade arrangements on the display tables, but they weren't what he was looking for. 

"Let me check the back and see what I can whip up." you give him a reassuring smile before disappearing behind the storage room door.

You're greeted by the sight of Joel standing halfway up the ladder. His hands are above his head, working on the A/C unit, causing the hem of his shirt to ride up and expose the smallest peak of his lower stomach. A trail of deep brown hair extends from below the waistband of his dark-wash denim jeans and travels up until it disappears under the soft fabric of his shirt. Your eyes begrudgingly tear themselves away from the exposed skin and move up his body. His stomach looks soft in comparison to the solid muscles of his chest and upper arms. Your eyes linger on the sharp angles of his jawline. Finally, your studying gaze reaches strong hands. His thick fingers delicately work over the intricate details of the unit.

He had so much control over the fine movements of his thick digits. He presses a petite silver knob between his thumb and index finger, giving it a gentle twist.

Your mind runs through the endless possibilities of what else he could squeeze between those two fingers.

The feeling of your weighted stare breaks Joel's concentration. He looks down to see you standing below him. He pulls his eyebrows together as you frantically try to collect yourself. You can't see it, but you are sure by the heat burning in your cheeks that your face is completely flushed.

"S-sorry," you manage to stammer out, "just need to grab something." You walk around him to the back of the cooler and grab a few different colors of tulips before rushing out.

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

The repair work took longer than Joel expected. One of the pipes responsible for circulating refrigerant into the condenser had corroded. He was able to complete a patch job, but the pipe would need to be entirely replaced for any long-term success. The twin fan blades whirl to life as Joel turns the A/C unit back on, giving his work a final once-over. He wants to ensure everything will hold up until he can get the part needed to finish the job.

When you re-enter the walk-in, Joel is collecting his tools back into his bag.

"How's it going in here?" you ask. You feel cool air brush across your bare forearms and look up at the ceiling unit. 

"You fixed it?" it comes out as a half statement, half question. The same beaming regard from earlier on your face, but it is intended for Joel this time.

Joel felt a mysterious craving deep within him finally being satisfied. He didn't know it previously, but he must have wanted that look, the one you save for his brother, to be meant for him. 

The warmth radiating from your smile was almost too intoxicating. Joel had to distract himself by closing the ladder, or he would have been completely engulfed by it.

"For now." Joel says, making a conscious effort to keep his eyes from returning to you, "I gotta order a part to fix it right."

Joel tucks the ladder under his arm again and moves to return it to the truck. You look down at his tool bag and reach for the handles with one hand. You can barely pick it up off the ground. It is much heavier than you expected. With a soft groan, you lift the bag and keep it secure in front of you with both hands.

Joel looks back at the sound and sees you struggling to hold the bag at waist level. "You ain't gotta—"

"But I want to." is all you say before overtaking him. You trek your way outside the shop with Joel close behind.

You set the tool bag on the curb next to Joel's truck, feeling accomplished about carrying it alone. Joel lifts the ladder over his head and slides it on the chrome rack suspended above the truck bed. He secures it in place with a couple of ratchet straps, then turns to grab the tool bag from the curb. 

With one easy motion, Joel lifts the bag up and over the tailgate, returning it to its original place.

"So, what do I owe you?" you ask with a gentle smile.

Joel looks at you and shakes his head. "Was just doin' a favor for Tommy."

"Come on, I have to pay you somehow." Your smile grows. "There is this really great coffee shop about a block from here. My treat."

Your intention genuinely was to thank him for his help this morning, but a selfish part of you was also trying to find a reason for him to stay just a little bit longer.

"I'll let Tommy know when the part comes in," Joel states flatly. He is already behind schedule. He needs to leave now to make his meeting with the real estate developers.

Joel gives you a nod goodbye before walking around the truck and climbing into the driver's seat. He pulls away from the curb and rejoins Austin city traffic, watching your little yellow apron become smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror.

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

Thankfully, the rest of Joel's jobs for the day go smoothly. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the melody playing from his Hank Williams cassette tape. Joel would be lying if he said the drive home from the city, back to the suburbs, wasn't his favorite part of the work day. He could reflect on his day, watch the sunset paint the central Texas horizon orange and pink, and he could listen to his "old man" music without Sarah making any comments at his expense.

He pulls into the small parking lot of The Whiskey Room, his and Tommy's usual watering hole. The drinks are cheap, the music is to his liking, and it is close enough to his house that he and Tommy can walk home after having one too many.

Joel spots Tommy's dark grey pickup, a weathered "OPERATION DESERT STORM COMBAT VETERAN" bumper sticker prominently displayed on the tailgate next to the driver's side taillight.

Tommy is saving a spot next to him at the bar. He puts out his cigarette as Joel pulls out the chair and takes a seat.

"Heard you landed that framin' job in those new apartments for us," Tommy says, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezing. "Ol' man still knows how to sweet talk a couple suits."

"Whiskey, neat. For my friend here." Tommy calls over to the bartender, "On me."

The bartender, a young woman in her mid-twenties, places a short glass containing two fingers of amber liquid on the bar top before Joel. Tommy gives her a wink as she walks away, flipping her long brown hair over one shoulder. 

Tommy finally removes his hand from his brother's shoulder and returns to his own drink.

"Your girlfriend's A/C needs a new coolant pipe." Joel grabs ahold of the whiskey glass and takes a sip.

"Nah, man." Tommy lets out a soft laugh before bringing his drink to his lips. "It ain't like that. She's just my ol' sergeant's wife."

It takes Joel a moment to put the pieces together. Tommy's old sergeant. The one from his time in Kuwait. The one who moved to Austin after the end of Operation Desert Storm with his wife. The one whose funeral Tommy attended eighteen months ago. 

Shit.

Joel stays silent as the overwhelming impact of his own stupidity washes over him. He can't think of a single thing to say.

Tommy rests his glass on the bar top "Wait, you really thought—"

Laughter erupts from Tommy, drawing the attention of those seated around them. Joel can feel the eyes of the bar's other patrons staring at his back. 

"I've just been helpin' her out since Sarge passed. She's goin' through a lot." Tommy is gripping the bar with one hand and places the other over his chest, trying to catch his breath.

"Pendejo."  Tommy takes his glass in his hand, grinning wide, and shakes his head in disbelief.

Joel's frigid embarrassment begins to grow into heated frustration. He downs his remaining whiskey in one gulp.

"She's always all over you. Gettin' you things, laughin' at your jokes," Joel snaps back at his brother.

"She's a sweet girl." Tommy nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders. "She's the kinda person that likes doin' nice things for other people. It's a mom thing, I reckon."

"Not to me." Joel retorts.

"You don't give her much of a reason to." Tommy takes another drink of his whiskey.

Joel thinks back on the handful of past exchanges the two of you have had. The first time he met you at the Super Bowl party, he spoke maybe two or three words to you. You spent most of the night sitting next to his brother on Joel's brown leather couch, listening captivatingly to Tommy explain the basics of American Football. At the family dinner, he was almost wholly silent towards you. Other than sneaking a few quick glances your way over the kitchen table every time you let an unapologetically sweet laugh escape your full lips. Even today, when you offered to buy him coffee to thank him for the work he had done at your store, he immediately shut you down.

"You really are one dumb bastard, you know that?" For the first time in a long time, Joel found himself agreeing with his younger brother.

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⟢ authors notes: I promised idiots in love, and I gave you idiots in love. Pre/non-outbreak Joel is my absolute favorite things to write currently. He is just such a goober.

I'm pretty insecure about the quality of my writing. I'm powering it though. I used to write fanfiction nearly everyday in my younger years, but as time went on I lost my love for it. But reading the phenomenal works of the authors in this community has reignited my passion.

I'm on spring break this week, so I am trying to write as much as possible until classes start again next Monday. My writing process is a little messy. I write in nonsequential order. As a scenes pops into my head, I scribble it out into a Google Doc the piece them together like a big jigsaw puzzle.

[lads-ficrecs]

ᴇᴘɪꜱᴏᴅᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴠᴇ ────୨ৎ────

✦ This post presents a well-organized collection of Love and Deepspace series fics, featuring both completed and ongoing works, conveniently tagged for easy navigation. If any updates are made to these works, I would greatly appreciate it if the author or anyone else could tag me, so I can keep the list current. Thanks in advance for your help!

We have three categories: 1. Completed 2. Ongoing 3. Status unknown: applies to fics that might initially seem like standalone drabbles but could potentially develop into multi-part stories, though their future is uncertain. Also for fics I'm unsure on if it is completed or not. If a particular fic is updated or completed and I haven't listed that on the post, please tell me so that I can update!

For more information, see the Pinned Post here! Check out the author list here! Check out recommendation lists made by others here!

Not quite human by @comatosebunny09 | Sylus Ongoing: 01

An arcana of hearts by @plutotheplum | Sylus, Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Caleb Ongoing: 01 | 02

The sin and the sinner by @saintobio | Sylus Completed: 01 | 02 | 03

The choices we make by @thechaoticarchivist | Sylus Ongoing: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Take your time, Miss Deer by @borkunlimited | Sylus Ongoing: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

Love is a bitch & Ataxia by @calebrity | Sylus Completed: 01 | 02

Blood Bag by @navydoves | Sylus Ongoing: 01

Wilted promises by @shaiyasstuff | Sylus Completed: 01 | 02 | 03

Out of bounds by @novthirty | Sylus Ongoing: 00 | 01

The cat-tastrophe by @mangooes | Sylus Status unknown: 01 | 02

Inked by @harmonyrae | Sylus, Rafayel Completed: 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

Sensitive by @comatosebunny09 | Sylus Status unknown: 01 | 02

A flame that ignited fire by @bobasbn | Sylus Status unknown: 01 | 02

Sing little birdie by @starmocha | Sylus Ongoing: 0.25 | 0.5 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Black jack, ace & house edge by @peachylynnie | Sylus Ongoing: 01 | 02 | 03

A blooming predicament by @subliminalwish | Sylus Ongoing: 01 | 02 | 03

Serve & protect by @comatosebunny09 | Sylus Ongoing: 00 | 01

Red, through the fire & ever after by @shaiyasstuff | Sylus, Zayne Completed: 00 | 01 | Sequel

7 days of recovery with you by @dellieghtful | Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb Ongoing: 01 | 02

Tides of treachery by @nekoashiii | Caleb Ongoing: 01

The spider's sense by @tojicide | Caleb Ongoing: 01 | 02

It was always you (and us) by @zaynessbeloved | Caleb, Zayne Ongoing: 01 | 02 | 03

Fly little pilot by @starmocha | Caleb Ongoing: 01

Credits: -> @fic-dumpster -> @toastray

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine, boothill and dr ratio with a s/o who's a detective? :3

Detective on the clock!

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Detective!Reader, Crime-solving, Witty Banter, Partnership, Mystery, Tension, Fluff, Adventure.

Warnings: Mild Language, Implied Violence, Mentions Of Crime And Investigation, Action, Slight Angst In Boothill's Storyline.

The soft chime of the clock struck midnight as you studied the crime scene evidence, furrowing your brow in concentration. Just as the details started to piece together, a figure slid into the room, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Late night again, love?” Aventurine’s smooth voice broke the silence, accompanied by the gentle scent of his cologne as he leaned against your desk, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Some people work for a living,” you replied, sparing him a quick, affectionate smile. “Unlike a certain risk-taker who plays the stock market as if it’s a card game.”

Aventurine chuckled, feigning an offended gasp. “Why, I’ll have you know that every investment is as strategic as a chess move. And speaking of strategy…” He slid a small, folded paper across your desk. “I managed to get some information that might help with that case of yours. A little gift, courtesy of the IPC.”

You took the paper, heart thumping as the details unfolded. It was a lead you’d been searching for. “Aventurine… how did you even get this?”

“Do you really want to know?” He grinned, pushing his glasses up. “Or are you happy with the result?”

You leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Sometimes, I think you’re the better detective.”

“Maybe,” he mused with a wink. “But I’d rather leave the real mysteries in your capable hands.”

Together, you returned to your work—one a master of risks, the other a seeker of truth, blending your strengths to bring the shadows into the light.

The galaxy's starry expanse flickered beyond the viewport as Boothill silently reloaded his revolver, checking each chamber with practiced ease. You leaned back, arms folded, watching his every move.

“Any idea what’s waiting for us down there?” you asked, squinting at the worn map on the dashboard. The old freighter rumbled beneath you, navigating its way through treacherous asteroid fields toward the IPC's latest outpost.

Boothill's sharp teeth flashed in a grin. “Justice, sweetheart. That’s all that’s waiting. And maybe a little trouble, if I’m lucky.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your lips twitch into a smile. “Lucky, huh? You mean reckless.”

“That, too,” he drawled, glancing over his shoulder at you. “That’s why I have you, my little detective. Keepin’ me on the straight and narrow.” His eyes gleamed with affection. “Mostly.”

“Someone has to,” you said, crossing the room to stand beside him. “I may not have your… firepower, but I’d like to think my detective instincts are keeping us both alive.”

He reached out, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “Those instincts of yours are sharper than any blade. Once we hit that outpost, keep your eyes open. They’ll have what we need, but I’ll need you watching my back.”

And with a quick, heated kiss, you both turned back to the task at hand—a vengeful cowboy and his vigilant detective, prepared to bring justice to every shadowed corner of the galaxy.

The night was quiet, a stark contrast to the tension brewing in your office. You sifted through case files, piecing together the fragments of an unsolvable mystery. Every clue, every lead pointed toward an unknown answer—until a soft knock at your door made you look up

There he stood: Dr. Veritas Ratio, the renowned genius, a glint of amusement lighting his features. He entered, a scroll of notes in hand. “I heard,” he said in that calm, assured voice, “you were looking for a missing variable.”

You blinked in surprise. “Are you offering help?”

“I’m offering insight,” he replied, placing his notes before you with a flourish. “Intuition, as you call it, though I prefer ‘scientific deduction.’”

You scanned the pages, the tiny puzzle pieces starting to fall into place with Ratio’s guidance. “You did this for me?”

He tilted his head, almost as if the thought of not helping you was absurd. “A detective’s work is not all that different from mine—chasing truth, unraveling the unknown. Besides, I find it... intellectually stimulating.” His hand brushed yours lightly as he took a seat beside you, eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of passion. “Together, I believe we might solve anything.”

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “Then let’s crack this case, shall we?”

And as you both leaned over the papers, minds entwined in a dance of logic and intuition, you felt grateful for the brilliant man who saw mystery in the ordinary and in you, his remarkable detective.

[howlettloki]

Less smut, more meaningful words with such eloquence, well executed plot, characterizations and world building.

A Loki (Marvel)/Reader Fic Recommendation

If you’re like me, who loves to read longer fics then this blog post is for you. This list features beautiful books I have read featuring Loki and the reader for the past 5 years. This is long overdue I have been planning to do this for a while now. I’ll do my best to share all of them in one post (might probably edit this once I remember more). One thing, I really love when an author finds a way to not use Y/N. Enjoy the list!

Completed Fics

Frostbite by Maiden_of_Asgard

Synopsis:

Iceland is nice - sure, you probably should’ve picked a time of year when the weather was a little warmer, but it isn’t too bad, and at least you’re away from your desk job, right? It’s a pretty big adventure.

You’ve always said that you wanted more adventure in your life.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This one you’ve probably read, if not go check it out. It’s one of the best out there. I mean, need I say more?

The Proposal by BirdsofHermes

Synopsis:

An AU gender-reversal of the 2009 romantic comedy The Proposal. You work for Loki Laufeyson at Asgard International Publishing. He accidentally lets his work Visa expire and is about to be deported back to England, so he blurts out that he's marrying you. Now you have to convince an immigration inspector as well as your own family that you're in love with Loki or he gets deported for life and you face five years jail time.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I have read this more than one can count fingers in their hands.

Broken Crown by Michelleleahhh

Synopsis:

Your betrothal to Thor was convenient - brokered as an alliance between two powerful families.

Your marriage to Loki... is unimaginable.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Please proceed with caution and read the tags. When I read this the first time, I was new to this world but I remembered enjoying reading this piece. I just recently re-read this, and I just found some minor stuff I didn’t really enjoy. Overall the story and the plot got me hooked however, there’s just few chapters that I feel could’ve been explored more and executed better. Still, I enjoyed reading this the second time around.

Fǫruneyti by Evaldrynn

Synopsis:

A story in which a herbalist makes a decision that will drastically change her life, and in which a prince begins to realise that there might still be hope for him yet. A tale of danger, adventure, friendship - and, ultimately, love. 

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨

This one I stopped reading at 70%, I have certain icks when it comes to reading and once I reach that ick jar I’m done. It was still beautifully written, got me hooked and all, loved the progress. What can I say, I love slow burns.

The Devil Inside by Ursus_minor

Synopsis:

You're a free lance artist and just running short of rent money for the month, so when your good buddy Thor offers you a one-off job at his sister's company, you take it - even though helping his little brother out with some paperwork sounds awfully tedious

I always wondered what Loki, Hela and Thor would do if they were 'mere mortals'

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨

It’s deleted but I was lucky enough to have read this way back 2020. It was one of my favorite back then, because it was hard to find a long fic where Loki is not the God of Mischief but just a mere mortal living amongst us. I honestly forgot most about this story, I only remember bits and pieces, you’re Thor’s best friend and he helped you gain money by working under Loki, like the synopsis said.

A Study In Suit by lowkeyorloki

Synopsis:

You've worked too damn hard to get into Professor Laufeyson's course, and you're not about to let your pesky attraction to him get in the way. Your Professor, however, has other plans.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Professor Loki. That’s it.

From the Void, With Love by pilotisms

Synopsis:

Torn from time, you have to navigate the TVA with the one person who singlehandedly tried to conquer NYC. Turns out you & him have a future-past. Time is weird.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is one of the best I’ve read, this is my second to The Proposal. I fucking love this you have no idea. Wished there was a longer sequel though.

Litklœði by GoldTrimmedSpectacles

Synopsis:

“And the sire promised that he would spend the rest of his days searching for the cure of the flower disease which took his friend. And he did find this cure, but not without a cost,” Frigga explained and stroked Loki’s head as the illusions vanished. “But now, when one is fraught with flowers in their chest, a völva can remove these flowers with seiðr – saving the victim’s life and removing the vines from their lungs.”

The Allmother paused and looked at your small, childish face. Her smile was kind and full, but her eyes lay empty and sad. The knowledge of yet to come lay heavy on her features.

However, be warned my child, that with the removal of lung flowers the feelings of unrequited love will be removed too. As will any remaining trace of friendship. So be careful how you give your heart, my dear. You may never know what you could lose.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hanahaki Disease AU? Anyone? This one is from my previous blog post. Pure feelings. Loved young loki and young reader.

In Progress or Abandoned Gems

Mea Culpa by OlympianWine

Synopsis:

Six years ago yours and Loki's relationship came to an abrupt and messy end, leaving resentment and hurt in its wake. Now you haven't heard a whisper of him in years, until he turns up at his brother's wedding, seemingly changed for the better, and you're thrust into facing both him and the memories you had buried. But a dangerous figure from Loki's past looms overhead, and Thanos is determined to hunt Loki down and make him pay for betraying him.

Review:

💔💔💔💔💔

I mean based on the synopsis who wouldn’t want to read that? Last update was last year, here’s to hoping it’ll update more or I’m gonna have to kms.

Anagapesis by OlympianWine

Synopsis:

You have a perfect life; a loving husband, a beautiful baby. But when it all comes crashing down, you must put survival ahead of sentiment and turn to a darker prince - your husband's brother. Loki is cruel and cold, and he hates you with a burning passion. Or so you think.

Review:

💔💔💔💔

Just when you think you’re falling, he makes you remember what type of person he is. I feel for Loki, but he’s just cruel man. I wish there was more so I could understand him a bit more.

Seiðmaðr by GoldTrimmedSpectacles

Synopsis:

Amidst the fallen brethren of the Vanaheimr war against Muspelheim, the dark prince of Asgard finds himself lost and riddled with amnesia. His words are barbed, his tongue is gilded and his eyes are sharp. He has no recollection of his name or family, but he soon comes to realise that perhaps it is best for the past to be shadowed by the future, and that life as a beloved commoner is better than life as a miserable prince.

Review:

💔💔💔💔💔

I’m a sucker for fantasy and a well executed world building. I love how I’m instantly transported into the world created by the author and I feel alive inside. I wish there was a way to find out what happens next. I just love this so much I wish there was more.

[thebibliosphere]

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites

In a world of dwindling hope, love has never mattered more...

Captain Nathan J. Northland had no idea what to expect when he returned home to Lorehaven injured from war, but it certainly wasn’t to find himself posted on an island full of vampires. An island whose local vampire dandy lord causes Nathan to feel strange things he’d never felt before. Particularly about fangs.

When Vlad Blutstein agreed to hire Nathan as Captain of the Eyrie Guard, he hadn’t been sure what to expect either, but it certainly hadn’t been to fall in love with a disabled werewolf. However Vlad has fallen and fallen hard, and that’s the problem.

Torn by their allegiances–to family, to duty, and the age-old enmity between vampires and werewolves–the pair find themselves in a difficult situation: to love where the heart wants or to follow where expectation demands.

The situation is complicated further when a mysterious and beguiling figure known only as Lady Ursula crashes into their lives, bringing with her dark omens of death, doom, and destruction in her wake.

And a desperate plea for help neither of them can ignore.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites by Joy Demorra is a queer, paranormal, gaslamp fantasy romance novel featuring enchanted forests, gothic castles, and just a smidge of industrial coal dust, and is the first book of the Hunger Pangs slow-burn polyamorous romance series. Join Vlad, Nathan, and Ursula as they navigate a magical world torn asunder war and politics as they work to restore balance to the world and find love along the way. Book one is available now in ebook, paperback, and audio.

Buy the (high heat) Flirting With Fangs Edition Here. 

Buy the (medium heat) Fluff and Fangs Edition Here.

Why are there two versions, and what's the difference between them? Glad you asked! You can also check out individual content tags and heat ratings on my website at www.joydemorra.com

[sharpace]

Jaime Morales  RockinArt || Rok_BotMarch 17, 1960 - January 21, 2025

When I was in elementary school, my favorite day of the year was when my dad would come into my class to teach us how to draw. I could barely focus on the lessons, wiggling in my plastic seat as I kept checking the time in anticipation. One of my favorite people in the world was coming into my little world and everyone would see how cool he was. 

When he had entered, I would be awash with a level of incredible joy that was unmatched. He’d come in and teach us the basics such as how we can take what we see and how to interpret it on paper. He’d make the class giggle by telling them how when I was a toddler I would draw his curly hair as spirals. I felt bashful as the class looked at me, but my shyness was overcome with how proud I was of my dad as he went on to teach the class how to draw Powerpuff Girls, Spongebob, and superheroes.

Over the years, art became our shared thing. Sitting together and drawing, going to art shows, going to conventions, and so much more. Even now, all these decades later, we’d share each other’s artwork and love for art.

On January 21, my dad passed away suddenly at home. It’s been strange to experience, the sensation of loss, and something my sister and I have been navigating together. It’s been over a month and yet we still check the time, still check my inbox, and still feel like he’s due to arrive any moment. I’ve been sitting on my sofa, browsing through his pages and looking at his art once more, knowing everyone knew how cool he was.

He loved making art and sharing it with the world. His work was vibrant and diverse featuring rock stars, robots, recreation of classic pieces, etc. He may not be coming through the door again but everyone can know what a wonderful artist he was and he can live on through those pieces.

If you’ve ever bought or received a piece from him, my sister and I encourage you to take a photo and tag him with a memory.

[sthbigbang]

✨Sonic the Hedgehog Big Bang 2024 Posting Dates Announcement!✨

We are just three days away from the posting period of the first annual Sonic the Hedgehog Big Bang!

The posting period will begin on Friday, June 21st, continue on Saturday, June 22, and culminate with Sonic’s birthday on Sunday, June 23!

As our artists and writers work to add the finishing touches on their pieces, we’ve compiled some previews to show off just a taste of what this Sonic-filled Extravaganza has in store for us! When posting time comes, be sure to check out the #sonic big bang 2024 tag or this blog, as we’ll be reblogging every piece here as they’re posted! Once all the pieces have been shared, we’ll be compiling them together into a master collection for easy navigation!

Featured writers (in descending order): @whisker-biscuit, @generic-sonic-fan, @eccentricglimpse, @sweetredbeans, @jack-enbyfold, @franticmelody

Featured artists (from left to right): @whalesharkstho, @siggiedraws, @mechaseraph, @summerroseart, @autisticsonic, @mstormcloud, @vanlikespaintingclouds

[changes]

Tuesday, July 16th, 2024

🌟 New

On web, you can now navigate away from your current feed (Dashboard, searches, tags, and more) without worrying about losing your spot when returning via your browser’s back and forward buttons.

Communities now include helpful tooltips to point out features that are new to you.

Community admins can now generate invite links, which will allow new members to join (until the population limit is reached). The link can be refreshed if it accidentally goes out to the wrong place, invalidating old invite links. Send them to a friend, post them to your blog, write them on a postcard, print them on business cards, the options are endless!

Community admins can now remove community members. There’s an option in the meatball menu in the members list.

Community admins will now receive a push notification and activity item when their requested community has been approved.

Community members will now receive a push notification and activity item when they’re promoted to (or demoted from) moderator.

The Android app’s post editor now has an improved blog picker that includes communities, so you can post directly to them quickly.

🛠 Fixed

Privacy Data exports were failing to generate for some users. This has now been fixed, and all failed exports are being regenerated.

“Post to another blog or community” no longer appears every time you start a new post.

Logged out users were briefly not able to view public communities. This has now been fixed.

Community notifications were briefly not dismissible. This has now been fixed.

The community invite box has received clarity improvements.

A handful of push notifications have received clarity improvements.

Avatars on bundled activity items have been repositioned, which does indeed improve clarity.

🚧 Ongoing

No ongoing incidents to speak of right now.

🌱 Upcoming

Community admins will soon be able to ban community members entirely.

Experiencing an issue? Check for Known Issues and file a Support Request if you have something new. We’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

Want to share your feedback about something? Check out our Work in Progress blog and start a discussion with the community.

Wanna support Tumblr directly with some money? Check out the new Supporter badge in TumblrMart!

[labs]

Hello again, Labs here with a recap of our test of Collections! We introduced this prototype back in September and then handed the feature to a handful of volunteers sourced from the notes on that post. Thank you again to all volunteers! 

We got so much useful feedback, and wanted to share some of that here, and reveal some next steps we’re taking. There are a couple of big projects cooking in Labs, and Collections has taken a backseat lately, but it is important to us to not leave y’all hanging. We very much want to build things with you here.

Our goal with the volunteer-based super-early phase of Collections was to see if those volunteers actually use the feature, watch what they come up with, and check whether anybody they invite to Tumblr signs up and becomes a regular user of the site. Turns out, nobody did sign up — it’s not as useful of an onboarding strategy as we thought it could be.

However, one piece of feedback we got is that Collections make great custom feeds, which people on Tumblr have been asking for a lot over the years. We hear you loud and clear: you want to supplement the standard Following / For You experience with more intentional control over feed content. That’s really important to us.

With that in mind, for those in the prototype, we’ve moved the Collections list to the left sidebar / mobile navigation as an expandable area like Account, for quick access. We like this better than putting them in the dashboard tab bar, but it’s still something we’re mulling over:

We also heard the need for more filtering options beyond just blogs and tags. What about only including a blog’s posts that use a certain tag, or excluding posts using a certain tag? Or list tags with a boolean AND operator (“posts tagged [tag] and [other tag]”), not just the OR operator we’re using now for sourcing tagged posts. Lots of ideas on how to further customize what shows up in the feed, and better define what the feed is “for”.

There were other fun, tangential bits of feedback, too, like the desire to make these Collections a collaborative feature, so that more than one person can help build a Collection. There were also several usability issues that came to the forefront, which we’ve addressed. And there were some well-articulated thoughts and questions about etiquette, such as how to seek a blog’s “permission” to be included in a Collection – that’s something we care a lot about, to help prevent this kind of feature from being a source of abuse.

Another piece of feedback we heard repeatedly is the desire for Collections of posts. This is not really what we intended with what we built, but it’s not too far afield either. We totally agree that having better, easier ways of collecting and curating individual posts would be useful, so we’re going to investigate that as a separate project.

With all of this in mind, we’ve split the work on Collections into two separate tracks:

Shaping this feature as a “customizable feeds” solution, away from an “invite others” tool.

Building a new thing for saving and curating static posts.

Stay tuned here on the Labs blog for updates on when/if we’ll be moving these Collections tracks of work to more people on Tumblr. (If you are one of the volunteers who helped us with Collections, you’ll still have access to it for the time being!)

Thanks for reading! And please reach out to us via Support, the replies here, or your reblogs, if you have any more feedback, as always.

[theonyxstate]

Who are your Favourite Blogs and people on Here?

ohh i have so many, i love my tumblr users. thank you for the ask!

fav people: @dyl-z @queermoons @psychoticallykind @butterli5 @my-castles-crumbling @faeyells (& i love their blogs sm too 💖) kas @/queermoons is filling my need for a polish marauders obsessed queer (?) mutual <333 fae is a sweet soul who writes fics that i love, @/butterli5 also writes & is so so wholesome ily<33 dylan & cas are also fic writing royalty and tumblr celebrities and you should check them out (if you don't know them already). cas writes microfics like they breathe them out, and every one is perfect; they also do anon advice asks💖 dylan is currently writing one of the longest and most popular marauders sm uni & fame AU mixed fic called "growing sideways" and when i tell you im feral, i really fucking am. and incredibly proud. like ahhb look at him😭💖 his account also features people repeatedly yelling at him for the fic's events (dont worry, he likes it)

fav blogs that i personally haven't spoken with: @crescenthistory @ellecdc @unconventional-lawnchair @moonstruckme y/n fic royalty, tumblr celebrities. they all create amazing, often very long fanfiction on tumblr (carina @/crescenthistory once wrote over 14k words fic. on a tumblr post. and every word was magic) & elle has fic collection so long you would think she must've started in xivth century lmao. she is one of the biggest marauders people here on tumblr. @/unconventional-lawnchair wrote my favourite barty x reader fluff, and to this day it's one of my comfort fics <33 to mae @/moonstruckme i got through her collaboration with elle in "Thawing Out", an incredible wolfstar x reader ice‐skating AU, and ever since i cannot stop reading those. i've read (almost) all of those creators' works. repeatedly. and will continue to do so

@honeycaksy @cannissmajor @spookeart @alexsays-no @meemoop - art royalty, celebrities on tumblr & other platforms, followed for art & stayed for both their art and personalities. @/honeycaksy is famous for her amazingly thought-out what-if-regulus-karma-was-him-having-a-child-who-looks-like-sirius AU featuring exploration of north african magic society. @/cannissmajor is best known i think for that one incredible realistic portrait of mary mcdonald and revealing later that he's literally 15 (still cannot believe it. his works are fucking amazing). @/spookeart is wildly known for that one moonwater smoking fanarts, but all of their works do big numbers here, on ig & pinterest. the only person i support on patreon😊 alex is famous for his "y brillamos juntos" jegulus fanart, but - again - all his works are praised (rightfully so). he's also making an indepentent comic project about navigating your identity, past, future and present, being a young mexican trans person & it's consuming me daily, i once sent him a detailed description of its characters based on their zodiac signs lmao. would support him on patreon if i had enough money xxx @/meemoop is known for her cutest drarry comics & illustrations, & "the veiled boy" fanfiction which she writes and illustrates

@interstellar-jay - ao3 fic author that in my head is a celebrity (writing royalty) & the fact that they tag me in their posts sometimes feels surreal. again, got there for their writing, stayed for writing & personality both. their fic "how far will you go?" is a long jegulus one, canon divergent and stunningly written. i am so invested in those characters i cannot bring myself to finish the last chapter because what if angst? i cannot see them suffering more😭 it's been months & im still on the edge

@outromoonyy @cosmicsmoony - they both write and marauderpost original content a lot & i obviously love it. honey @/cosmicsmoony is the person pushing me to try to write so if i ever post it, she should take credit xx

@moonyswarmsweaters @what-would-sappho-do @the1970sdeadgaywizard-regulus @regregregulusblack @equippedtolove - fav marauders blogs, chaos, comfort & angst guaranteed. they tumblr marvellously. reg @/regregregulusblack is my favourite rp account. reg @/the1970sdeadgaywizard-regulus is not an rp account & is also a part of a wild tumblr friendgroup. if you see any chaotic, multipart personal drama where you dont understand 1/3 of the words & it features one garden of runar account, that's reg's friends. i love the chaos but tbh i am not sure what i am a part of

@cosyfroggo @reallyrandombigirl @lettertovera - my favourite followers ily them so much<33 forever hunting argentinian remus fics with vera :p

@ghostcasket - the person behind The Hallmark Exes original story (where the story instead of the main clueless girls ™ focuses on two men who they left behind in the cities - Levi, one's [now ex] boyfriend of 4 years and fiancé, and Xavier, who was a boyfriend of 5 years and supposed to become a fiancé on christmas day). best turn of a bland and overdone trope ive ever seen, cheering him on in writing them some more!

18+ recs below the cut❗️

@indigostation @trstalks @rablovergirl @lurlurlurlurlur @z-eel - lovely blogs that i adore for their unhingedness, marauders nsfw royalty. indigo is the driving force behind moonwater and a tumblr celebrity (as are the rest of them. at least in their niche). be prepared for a ride with them (they are correct tho.) i cannot specify a single niche for each one of them because they exchange and prompt ideas between each other like a full time marauders nsfw company. zeel is the author of the pornstar polycule™ (moonwaterflowerkiller. dont jugde til you read). wild wild content that im here for

@until-the-house-shakes I AM SO SORRY, BACK WHEN I FOLLOWED YOU YOU AND MAE HAD PFP IN A SIMILAR COLOUR I THINK?? Anyways yeah i'm very sorry for confusing you two😣 you ARE one of my favourite blogs in here, though, so i'm keeping you here, if you'd let me. a writer, original content poster, author of the one and only marauders sm spider-man AU fic & trans reg getting out of an abusive relationship AU, @/until-the-house-shakes got my love for combining all of writing media to create loads of marauders content, and all of it is just wonderful. sfw & nsfw both. once again i apologise for the confusion 🙇 and i'm really glad you're back, even if this post didn't read like it😥❤️‍🩹

@anxiousthoughts365 - writes on ao3 and tumblr, both sfw and nsfw content. my lovely mutual, the first one xx i live for his drarry <33

and that's it from the top of my head! because yes, to be honest, im very fond of everyone i follow here <333

very sorry if i used someone's wrong name or pronouns! i dont remember all of those so if anything's wrong please tell me so i can fix it xxx

[somuchforahobby]

Coping mechanisms

Summary: after the death (sorry💀) of your boyfriend Steve Rogers, you attend therapy to navigate the loss (while your own thoughts haunt you). Italics are flashbacks. Tags: Bucky x reader / implied Steve Rogers x reader Warnings: This might qualify as steamy but it is not smut; no physical descriptions nor explicit content. Words: 1k Writer's note: this is the closest i've been to writing smut so PLEASE let me know what you think thanksss

“So how has it been the last couple of weeks?” The therapist asked you from across the room. Her gray hair was neatly brushed back, a warm smile on her lips.

A couple of books fell when your back hit the book shelf. The pain of the wood against your skin is forgotten while the heat of his lips traveled down your neck, leaving love bites all over.

“It has been—“ you inhaled, “better.” You could feel the thin layer of sweat on the back of your knees against the leather sofa, working as a reminder not to use shorts for your next visit.

“Have you been doing the breathing exercises?”

Your chest goes up and down, inhaling deeply in a lame attempt to control your movements. A strong set of fingers keep your hips rooted to the mattress while his tongue takes the filthiest sounds out of you.

“Yes”

“And how about your sleep? Has it gotten any better?”

‘I know you have it in you’ his deep, hoarse voice in your ear shook you with a new wave of pleasure while his hair, long and disheveled, tickled your neck.

‘Please, give me one more’ he coaxed you between moans of his own, finally taking you off the cliff for the third time in the night.

His strong arms circled your waist, pulling you over his chest. He left soft and lingering kisses all over your flushed and oversensitive skin. ‘Good night, babe, rest.’

You barely heard him over your sleepness.

“I’ve had some better nights lately”

“Tell me about your social life, have you tried to go out?”

‘Wanna come over?’ You blocked your phone as soon as you sent the text in an attempt to mute the crippling anxiety it brought you.

Your screen lights up seconds later with a notification.

Message from Bucky ‘On my way’

“Not really” your gaze was fixed on your feet, “though I have been seeing some of my old friends”

‘I brought you sushi and a bottle of wine’ Bucky left the shopping bag on the counter of your apartment, his smile strained. ‘Thought you may want dinner after I’m done with ya’ he sent you a cheeky wink that had you discarding your shirt on the spot.

“Do you mean Steve’s friends?”

‘I’ve seen that before’ Bucky tugged at your oversized shirt.

‘It was his’ you muttered, standing next to him on your bed.

He nodded, shame and sadness flashed his blue eyes.

‘We are gonna have to take it out of the way’ he pulled it over your head before taking you back to the mattress.

“Yepp”

“Did you see them on the street? Or where did you see them?”

Your eyes opened lazily to find a super soldier tangled next to you. His relaxed features brought a warm smile to your face.

“No, he visits to check on me”

Bucky crossed the threshold of your apartment door with a bag of groceries, ‘just the basics’ he said as he took them out and put them in the fridge. ‘Another basic’ he pulled out a box of condoms and threw it your way.

You catched it with a grin.

“Just to make sure you are ok? That is a good friend.”

‘Come on, baby’ he was shaking, holding his release for you, ‘I need you to come now’ he cooed as his fingers worked on you.

Once your eyes rolled back and released the breath you’d been holding, he allowed himself to do so.

“Yeah, he always puts me first.” you admitted robotically.

“And how does his company make you feel?”

Your fist closed on the sheets, desperately trying to ease the building tension of your core. But you were merciless at his disposal.

‘You like that?’ He kissed your temple, his broad chest over you.

Unable to form any words, you merely nodded.

‘Let me take care of you, gorgeous.’ He muttered as he pressed deeper into you, causing hot pleasure tears to dwell in your eyes.

“Good” the foot that hung on your opposite knee was bumping awkwardly. An anxious and unconscious habit.

“That is an improvement. He is dealing with something similar, maybe not the same, but you are grieving the same person. Spending time with him probably will help you soothe it, though it won’t heal it. Have you spoken about it with him?”

‘That was the best orgasm of my life’ you muttered with eyes half closed.

Bucky smirked, ‘don’t talk ill about my friend’ he pressed his lips to your jaw.

‘I am not bad mouthing Steve, I am praising you’ you moved to kiss him, pushing him on his back to straddle his hips. ‘Your turn’

“A little bit”

“Did it make you feel better?”

Vibranium fingers sank on your hips, a rough moan came out of his lips while your face nuzzled in his neck in absolute bliss.

‘You’re perfect’ he kissed the top of your head.

‘I might fight you from now on to go on top, Barnes’

You saw a loving smile before he leaned in to kiss you.

“You could say so”

“The next step would be to go out. I think you are ready.”

You grimaced. The woman in front of you leaned her head sideways, trying to bargain.

“You have to, eventually. Why don’t you text your friend, and ask him to hang today in another place than your apartment?”

You huffed, taking your phone out of your pocket.

‘Hey, what are you doing tonight?’ You read the text out loud.

The Doctor nodded.

The answer came almost immediately.

‘Hopefully you. 9 pm at your place?’

“He’s free” you said, not reading his answer out loud.

“Then invite him to do something outside your apartment.”

‘See you at your apartment’ you sent the text without sharing it with your therapist.

“Done.”

“Great” Your therapist smiled, “now try not to fill the void of your late boyfriend with his friend. Think of this new friendship as a coping mechanism for both of you, ok?”

You smiled back, “alright doc”

[phantomcodes]

abelia | theme by sage

get the code: $6 - live preview / preview v1 / preview v2 a fansite theme with lots of options!

features (more info below the cut):

toggle: tags on click, faq & navigate popups, links, events, status, members, & affiliates boxes

optional uploadable header image with full, medium, & short height options

choose between left, right, or both sidebars

headerbar includes icon/blog title, home & archive links, ask link or faq popup, search bar or explore popup, scroll to top, day/night, & tumblr controls buttons

sidebars include an uploadable image with a custom description, links, events, status, members, affiliates, & info boxes

optional disclaimer footer

customizable: colors, body & title fonts, and font size

npf supported, responsive design, 3 corner options, tabler icons

only the (optional) faq & navigate popups need to be changed in the code, everything else can be changed in the customize panel! however there are other changes you can make in the code if you want - please see the customization guide

terms:

reblog if using

do not touch the credit

all terms / faq

credits listed in the code / credits page

please consider supporting me ♡

blog name !! important

make sure you fill out the blog name field, this is what will show on the top of all your original posts. to clarify: your blog name is your blog’s url - for example: phantomcodes

responsive sidebar

when the browser window gets too small the sidebar will disappear and become toggleable, the sidebar toggle button will appear on the right side of the headerbar next to the day/night button

faq popup

the faq menu has your blog's ask box and allows for unlimited questions

navigate popup

the navigation menu has a search bar and allows for unlimited links with optional section titles & subtitles

sidebars

if you use both sidebars the reblog button will move to the bottom of the post next to the like button, the permalink will move to the more info popup at the top of the post

if you want to move sidebar boxes around please see the customization guide!

links box

the links box has up to 6 links

events box

the events box has up to 2 events each with an optional image, title, date, status, a short description, and up to 2 links

status box

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[ace-of-spadez]

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

POV: Simon "Ghost" Riley is your ex, in a moment of drunken desperation you call him to pick you up from the club.

Tags: Slight momentary spice, Simon being a gentleman and a softie, drunken confessions, kissing

I based this off of the Chai made by Laura! Just look up "Simon Ghost Riley" if you are interested. It should be the 4th one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you stumble out of the bar, the dimly lit street amplifies your unease, a consequence of the excessive amount of alcohol you consumed. In a moment of impulsiveness, you call your ex-boyfriend, Simon, desperately hoping he can come to your rescue. Within minutes, Simon arrives in his car, his eyes catching sight of you anxiously waiting on the curb.

“Get in!” he says curtly, his voice laced with a mix of coldness and anger as he opens the car door for you. You stumbled into the car silently, a look of disdain on your face, already regretting your decision to call your ex in your time of need. Shutting the door and buckling your seatbelt, you discreetly glare at the man beside you out the corner of your eye. As you buckle up, Simon starts the engine and pulls away from the curb, the city lights blurring together as he navigates through the night.

His hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension. He avoids making eye contact, focusing on the road ahead as he drives in silence. You pull out your phone to avoid confrontation and open Tinder, flicking through your DM's and reading a few requests from random men. Simon silently observes your actions, studying your profile on the glowing screen, his eyes narrowing. His jaw clenches as he sees the flirtatious messages and photos from random men, a surge of jealousy flooding through him. Feeling his eyes on you, you decide to call him out.

“Stop being nosy. It’s not like we’re together anymore,” you say with a drunken venom in your tone. You immediately regret being so harsh, deciding to stay quiet. Simon’s eyes remain fixed on the road, but his expression remains impassive. He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he reaches over and snatches the phone from your hand, tossing it into the glove compartment with a soft clunk. His tone is low and controlled when he finally speaks. You go to cuss him out, but he cuts you off.

“No need for that language, love. You’re drunk and don’t need that kind of attention right now. Trust me.” His voice is calm, almost soothing, but there’s a hint of authority in it.

“Love? Really? Plus, why do you even care anyway?” You slump back in your seat and focus your attention out the window, attempting to make your silent tears go unnoticed. Simon’s eyes flicker to your face, but you're too busy watching the scenery pass by to notice the worry in his gaze. He swallows hard before speaking again.

“I care because I don’t like seeing you hurt, okay? And I care because-” You cut him off, yelling out in frustration, “Because what Simon? No, really tell me! Because last I checked, you broke up with me.” Teary eyes still looking out the window, watching the gloomy scenery pass by. He pulls the car over to the side of the road, his movements quick and precise. He shifts his body to face yours, the expression on his face serious.

“Because we had something special, OK? And because I had made a mistake.” He can hardly make eye contact with you out of guilt, but when he finally does you can see the guilt riddled throughout his features.

“A mistake? What mistake could you have possibly made?” you face him fully now, tears on clear display and the alcohol radiating from your slightly slurred speech. Simon takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours with a newfound confidence he didn’t think he could conjure up in this moment.

“I made the mistake of thinking I could do without you, that I could move on. But the truth is that I can’t. I still think about you every day, and seeing you like this… it tears me apart knowing I’m the cause. I never wanted to hurt you, but sitting here now I’m realizing that it was stupid to think you were better off with me.” You sit quietly, looking down at your hands fiddling in your lap. You don’t know what to say, so you let him continue. Simon reaches out to gently brush a tear from your cheek. His voice is soft and filled with regret as he continues.

“I shouldn’t have let you go. I should have fought for you… for us. And now that I have you here, I don’t ever want to let you go again.” You look up at him as you start to cry more, pulling him in for a kiss. Simon hesitates for a moment, his lips pressed softly against yours. Then, as if a dam had broken, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a passionate, desperate embrace. Your hand reaches up the back of his neck, fingers lacing through his hair and gripping gently. He moans softly against your lips, hands moving to your waist to pull you closer as the kiss becomes more urgent and fervent.

“God, I missed you.” he murmurs huskily between kisses, voice laced with lust and pupils blown wide. You pull your lips away and rest your forehead against his with your eyes closed. The thumping of your heart dropping to between your supple thighs, but you suppress it to remember you’re heavily intoxicated… Should you really be doing this right now? Stuck in thought, you don’t realize you’ve gone silent and opened your eyes to see his pleading ones searching for understanding. His hands are still on your waist, holding you close as he feels the tension in your body, breathing heavy and ragged. He feels the hesitation and pulls his head back slightly.

“Do you want me to stop?” The confusion and slight fear of hurting you again flashes on his face, but as fast as it appeared, it vanished just the same. Gathering your emotions, you gently reassure him, “Truthfully no, but at the same time I feel like you are only doing this to make me feel better… like as soon as I’m happy again you’re just gonna disappear. I’m scared, Simon.” His eyes soften as he looks at you, thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I’m not just doing this to make you feel better,” he murmurs, voice low and sincere, “I’ve wanted this for a long time now.”

“Then what made you think that you would be better off without me?” Your voice breaks with a hiccup, starting to breathe heavier and faster, almost hyperventilating. Simon’s expression turns serious as he glances over your hardened features, hands still gripping your waist. “It’s complicated,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “ I felt like I wasn’t good enough for you.” You almost bust out laughing, appalled at the idea that the man next to you could ever even be close to not good enough.

“Not good enough for me? Really? Jesus Christ Simon, I’m the one not good enough for you! I’m clingy and overprotective and- and get jealous easily! Why did you pick me..?” His hands tighten around your waist as he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, salty embrace. “Because I saw something in you I couldn’t resist. You were passionate and caring, and you made me want to be a better man.” You both sit silently for a moment, you searching his eyes for even a sliver of doubt or deceit, but it never appears. Slowly wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss him passionately, conveying emotions, not able to be understood through words.

Simon’s response to your kiss is immediate and intense. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you up and over the center console onto his lap into a firm hug. His hands roam your body hungrily, tracing every curve of your hips and thighs through the thin fabric of your dress that is bunched up around the hill of your ass. He realizes where this predicament will eventually lead to and stops, resting his forehead against yours.

“Let’s get you home and sobered up. A real man never lays a woman while she is inebriated,” he spoke, chuckling at the whine that unwillingly slipped through your bitten lips. “Now I know it’s unethical, but perhaps you could stay comfy right where you are while I take us to our respected residences.” The suggestion puts a small smile on your face as you snuggle your face into his neck and wrap your arms around his shoulders, inhaling the woody pine musk of his natural scent. You want to question him about the legal stance of this, but are too warm to care. Instead, you hum a satisfied agreeance and let him drive.

Stirring slightly to the engine of the car being shut off, you sleepily lift your head to see your apartment building. Without a word, Simon opens the door and carries you inside, up to your room, and lays you on your bed. Like the gentleman he is, he takes off your heels and lays them aside, grabbing the makeup wipes from your bathroom and gently removing the smeared streaks of mascara that cascade down your warmed cheeks. He gets up, and you immediately start to worry that he is leaving, only to sit up and see him in your dresser, returning with an old t-shirt of his you had yet to return and a pair of sweatpants. You give him a knowing grin at the suggestion of him changing you when he retorts, “Oh hush it, love, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Wordlessly, you let him continue. He respectfully takes his time, making sure to keep eye contact with you. Fearing his inevitable absence, you decide to test your luck. “Si?” You mutter out into the comfortable silence, his only response being a small “hm?” “Please stay.. I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Struggling to hold eye contact and fearing his rejection, you’re surprised to feel his hand massaging your leg. “Oh darling, I won’t go anywhere if that’s what you wish.” He smiles lovingly and stands up straight, picking you up and your legs wrapping around his waist. He crawls into your bed and wraps you both up, petting your hair as you slowly drift off to sleep.

[brokebonewritings]

Help Me Remember You

Marc Spector x Fem! Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, language, slight gore, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: You are given a second chance at life after dying. After waking up in the hospital, you find that Marc has no recollection of you or your relationship.

Word Count: 3.5K

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A hand grasps your shoulder, as you stand on the sidewalk close to your flat in London. You couldn’t remember how you got there, but you turn your head to see who it was. A man stood tall next to you with a grim look on his face. With a shaky breath, you follow where his eyes lay. There on the ground, was you. Lifeless. Your eyes staring towards the sky. Towards the moon.

You look back up at the man. “Who are you?”

“Anubis.” He says, giving you his full attention. “I came for you, sweetheart.”

“What about Marc?” You ask, turning back to look at yourself.

“They will learn to live without. They have done it before.”

Before you can respond, he is gone, and you are in a new place. You stand in a gleaming white space, the afterlife you realized. A man stands in front of you just a few yards ahead. You can’t help but feel a sense of comfort radiating from his direction. As you begin to walk towards him, you see the small table and scales set upon it.

“Osiris.” You say softly, and bow your head.

“Yes, child.” He replies, “I am sorry we have to meet like this.”

Nodding, you kneel before the table and he does the same. Osiris reaches out and places a feather on one side of the scales while gesturing for you to place something on the other. You see a knife laying in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you take it and plunge it into your chest. Though there is no blood or pain. Reaching inside, you grab your heart and place it upon the scale.

The room falls silent as the scales tip ever so slightly, the feather barely moving. You hold your breath, waiting for Osiris to make a decision. After what feels like an eternity, he looks up at you with gentle eyes.

“Your heart is light, my child. You have lived a life of love and kindness.” Osiris's words wash over you like a soothing balm, filling you with a sense of peace.

As he stands up, you follow suit, feeling weightless and free. Osiris extends his hand towards you, a warm smile gracing his features.

“Welcome to the afterlife, where your soul will find eternal rest.”

You ever so slightly reach out your hand, before taking it back. “But this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

He chuckles softly, a sound like distant bells floating through the liminal space.

“Destiny is a fickle thing, my child. It weaves and changes, guiding us down paths we never could have foreseen.”

“Please I have to go back, I know there is something I need to finish.” You plead, not realizing tears had begun to fall down your cheeks.

Osiris's expression softens as he observes your distressed state. He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his touch bringing a sense of calmness over you.

“I sense a powerful yearning within you, a yearning that transcends even death itself.”

With a gentle smile, he motions towards a shimmering portal that has materialized beside you. “If your heart truly calls for it, the path back to the mortal realm awaits. But remember, the threads of destiny are tangled and mysterious. Be prepared for what lies ahead.”

You take one last look at Osiris, gratitude in your eyes before stepping through the portal. The world around you blurs and shifts, time and space bending to accommodate your return.

As you open your eyes, you find yourself in the hospital. Rightfully so, you had been strangled by a madman. You reach your hand up to feel the brace around your neck.

“Don’t move too much, darling.” You hear an unfamiliar voice before a nurse steps into view.

She has a kind smile on her face as she checks your vitals and adjusts the IV drip by your bedside. You try to speak, but she shushes you softly.

“Your vocal cords are very damaged, dear, you’ve been through quite an ordeal.” She says softly, “but you’re safe now. The police caught the man who attacked you.”

Pointing at her pen, she obliges also handing you a small notepad. You scribble a quick note asking about Marc.

The nurse pauses, a shadow crossing her features before she responds, “I’m sorry, dear. There was no one else found at the scene.”

Your heart sinks at her words, grief welling up inside you. He hadn't known you were attacked. You clutch the pen tighter, before writing his number.

“Would you like me to call him? Is he your emergency contact?”

You nod as best you could, and she nods back. “I'll be back in a moment.”

The nurse steps out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you lie in the hospital bed, flashes of memories flood your mind - moments shared with Marc, laughter echoing in your ears, his warm embrace enveloping you on cold nights. 

The beeping of the machines fades into the background as you drift into a haze of longing. Minutes feel like hours until the nurse returns, a somber expression on her face. Your eyes never leave her face, searching for any sign of hope or despair.

“Darling, Was this the right number? The bloke who answered said he didn’t know who you were.”

As the nurse's words sank in, a wave of panic washed over you. How could Marc not know who you were? You had spent countless days and nights together, sharing your deepest thoughts and dreams.

Frantically, you motioned for the nurse to dial the number again, hoping it was just a misunderstanding. You listened intently as the phone rang on the other end, each tone echoing in the silence of the hospital room. Your heart pounded in your chest, the seconds stretching into eternity until finally, a voice answered.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end sounded gruff. It was definitely him.

“Hiya, it’s me again. Listen, dear, she is very sure that this is the correct number.” The nurse tries.

“Fucking christ, I already told you I don’t know who that is. Did this woman get hit in the head or something?”

You wince at the harshness in his voice. He definitely doesn’t remember you. You wave at the nurse, and scribble another name onto the notepad asking her to say it to him.

“She can hear you, you sorry bastard. She just wrote another name on the page, says Jake Lockley.”

There’s silence on the opposite end of the line. After clearing his throat, he asks, “Which hospital is this, I’ll be right there.”

You feel a mix of relief and confusion as Marc agrees to come to the hospital. Maybe there was a mix-up, a misunderstanding that could be cleared up once he saw you. The nurse smiled reassuringly at you before stepping out to wait for Marc's arrival.

Hours pass, each minute feeling like an eternity as you anxiously wait for Marc to arrive. Finally, the door opens and in walks a man, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. 

“Are you y/n?”

You try to speak, but your damaged vocal cords only allow a hoarse whisper to escape. Tears well up in your eyes as you nod. His expression shift, looking much softer, but still no recognition. Though you immediately know who you’re about to talk to.

Scribbling on the notepad, he slowly walks over and sits in the chair next to your bed. He looks over to see what you wrote.

Steven. Please remember me.

He looks up at you with his doe eyes. “How did you know it was me? How do you know about us.”

Fiancé

“But I don’t know who you are. How could we be engaged if I’ve never met you?”

You hold his gaze, willing him to remember, to see beyond the fog that clouds his memory. With trembling hands, you reach out and touch his face, tracing the lines as if to etch your presence into his very being.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you try to convey years of shared memories and love in a few fleeting moments. You point to the engagement ring on your finger, a symbol of the promises made and the future planned together.

His eyes flicker with a hint of recognition, a spark of something familiar dancing within them. He takes your hand in his, gently running his thumb over the ring as if trying to unlock hidden chambers of remembrance.

“I... I don’t understand,” he stammers, his voice laced with confusion and a tinge of fear. “How can I be engaged to someone I don’t remember?”

You scribble on the notepad again.

I died, I met Anubis and Osiris.

“You met Anubis and Osiris?! How is this possible? How are you here?!”

You smile, this is the Steven you remember. They gave me another chance, but when I came back you didn’t remember me

Something in his eyes flashes, and the hard expression returns. Marc was back, his eyes searching your face for any sort of recognition. Your heart ached at the disbelief and confusion in his eyes.

His hand recoils from yours as if your touch burned him, his features contorted in a mix of fear and disbelief. You watch helplessly as the connection you once shared with him slips further away, like sand sifting through your fingers. The weight of your heartache presses down on you, squeezing the air from your lungs.

“I can’t... I can’t do this.” His voice is barely a whisper, filled with a turmoil you cannot comprehend. He stands abruptly, knocking over the chair in his haste to distance himself from you. “I need to go.”

You reach out to him, the words trapped in your throat as you watch him move towards the door. This man before you, who was once your anchor in the storm, now feels like a stranger walking out of your life.

As he reaches the threshold, he pauses for a fleeting moment, his back still turned to you. “I’m sorry... I don’t know who you are,” he says softly before stepping out. 

The door closes behind Marc, leaving you alone in the silence of the hospital room. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, wrapping around you like a shroud of sorrow. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks as you try to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

You clutch the notepad to your chest, feeling the indentations of the words you had written in haste. Memories of your life together with Marc flash before your eyes, each one a painful reminder of what once was. The engagement ring on your finger glints in the dim light, a symbol of a future that now seems uncertain.

As you lie there, staring at the blank walls of the hospital room, a sense of numbness settles over you. The sounds of the machines humming fade into the background as you slip into a state of disconnected solitude. The world outside continues to spin, indifferent to the ache that gnaws at your heart.

Hours turn into days as you remain in the hospital, your voice slowly coming back to you. Janice, your nurse, had quickly become a good friend. Helping you contact your landlord, and trying to get Marc to come back. Each time getting the hard no.

"Y/n, I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you," Janice said softly, placing a comforting hand on yours. "But you're not alone. We'll figure this out together."

You managed a weak smile, grateful for Janice's support during this tumultuous time. Despite the ache in your heart, a sliver of hope bloomed within you at her words.

After almost a month in the hospital, you were released. You got to go back to your life. Not entirely, but for the most part.

As you stepped out of the hospital, the sunlight felt harsh against your skin, like a stark contrast to the dim confines you had grown accustomed to. 

Everything looked different, even the familiar streets seemed alien as you navigate your way back home. The weight of Marc's absence pressed down on you, a constant ache in your chest that refused to dissipate.

Your home was almost the same as it was before the incident. A bit cleaner, since Janice stopped by to collect your post, and check on the flat. Despite Janice's unwavering support and encouragement, there were moments when the loneliness threatened to consume you. 

The silence of your apartment echoed with memories of laughter and whispered promises, now replaced by a deafening void that seemed impossible to fill.

One evening as you sat by the window watching the stars, you see a figure on the rooftop of the building across from yours.

The figure was familiar, a silhouette etched in your memory like a ghost from the past. Despite the distance and the darkness shrouding their features, you knew without a doubt who it was. Marc. He stood there, his form outlined by the faint glow of the moon, his gaze fixed on your window.

A surge of emotions welled up inside you, and you know he saw you notice him. Your heart pounded in your chest, as you got up and moved to lay in your bed.

The sight of Marc on the rooftop stirred a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you, pulling at the threads of hope and heartache that had woven themselves into the fabric of your being. His sudden appearance after weeks of absence sent a surge of questions racing through your mind, each one vying for attention in the chaos of your thoughts.

As you lay in bed, unable to tear your gaze away from the figure on the rooftop, a sense of longing welled up inside you. Could this be a chance to bridge the chasm that had formed between you and Marc? Or was it simply a cruel twist of fate, dangling the possibility of reconciliation before you only to snatch it away once more?

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness that lingered between you like an invisible thread.

The figure remained on the rooftop, unmoving yet a silent presence that seemed to bridge the gap between your past and present. You lay there, caught in a limbo of emotions that threatened to unravel the fragile threads holding you together.

Eventually, a soft knock at your door broke the stillness of the night, startling you from your reverie. With hesitant steps, you made your way to the door, heart pounding in anticipation of who may be on the other side. As you turned the doorknob, you were met with a familiar silhouette backlit by the soft glow of the hallway lights.

Marc stood before you, uncertainty etched across his features as he searched your eyes for a sign of acceptance. Before any words could be spoken, you found yourself enveloped in his embrace, the warmth of his touch seeping into your bones like a soothing balm.

Tears welled up in your eyes as weeks of pent-up emotions threatened to spill over the edge. You didn’t know what was happening, but you needed this.

As you stood in the doorway, locked in an embrace that felt both foreign and achingly familiar, a sense of hope bloomed within you. The raw vulnerability in Marc’s touch mirrored your own, a shared language of unspoken apologies and forgiveness that transcended the barriers of time and memory.

In that moment, as the world outside faded into insignificance, all that mattered was the connection between two souls reaching out for each other across the expanse of uncertainty.

The embrace with Marc felt like a lifeline, a beacon of light cutting through the darkness that had clouded your heart for so long. As you clung to him, the walls you had built around your emotions began to crumble, giving way to the flood of feelings you had buried deep within.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Marc’s voice trembled with emotion, his words a whispered confession that hung in the air between you.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze as tears streamed down your cheeks. “I don’t understand…” Your voice is still hoarse.

"I was lost, Y/n. Lost in a storm of confusion and fear that clouded my judgment," Marc's voice cracked with emotion, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to cup your face. “But I saw him. He told me everything.”

“Saw who? Marc, please. You remember me?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t, but please let me.”

The sincerity in Marc's eyes tugged at your heartstrings, a flicker of hope igniting within you despite the lingering doubts. His vulnerability laid bare before you, an unspoken plea for a second chance that resonated with the deepest corners of your soul.

With a shaky breath, you reached out to touch Marc's trembling hand, a silent gesture of understanding and acceptance. “Was it Osiris?”

He nodded, “We went searching for him. Khonshu, the old bastard, actually helped me.”

Osiris? The name reverberated in your mind, sending a shiver down your spine. Memories long buried stirred within you, whispers of a past that seemed almost surreal. And yet, here was Marc, standing before you, his eyes reflecting a turmoil of emotions.

You’re brought back to reality for a moment, and realize you’re in the open where your nosey neighbor is probably spying on you. “Do you want to come in?” You ask Marc, and he nods.

Closing the door behind him, you lead him to the living room and sit next to him on the couch. “I just don’t understand why you came back. You know I was actually beginning to accept you not coming back.”

"I know I've caused you pain, Y/n. And for that, I will never forgive myself." His voice wavered with emotion as he continued, each word heavy with the weight of his confession. "But meeting Osiris...it made me realize I fucked up.”

You studied Marc's face, searching for any hint of deceit or manipulation, but all you found was raw honesty etched in his expression. A part of you wanted to push him away, to guard your heart against the possibility of hurt once more. But another part yearned for the closure and healing that only forgiveness could bring.

“I can't erase the past or the pain I've caused. But when Osiris showed me the truth... I couldn't stay away. Everything leads straight back to you.” You see a stray tear run down his cheek and he explains himself. “I know I don’t remember you. We all don’t remember you, but we want to.”

Your mouth felt dry as you listened to him speak. As you gazed into Marc's tear-filled eyes, a surge of compassion welled up inside you. You feel his hand take a hold of yours. His hand trembles in yours, but the touch grounds you in the present moment.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whisper.

“Don’t say anything, just…” He sighs before continuing. “Help me, Help us remember you.”

As you sat there on the couch, silence enveloping you both like a protective cocoon, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath and when you opened them you saw him still sitting there. No trick of the mind or anything.

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes. A flicker of relief passes across Marc's features, gratitude shining in his eyes. Without another word, he reaches out and pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if afraid that you might disappear if he lets go.

In that moment, as you find solace in each other's arms, a sense of unity washes over you. The past may be shrouded in shadows and uncertainty, but the present holds the promise of rediscovery and redemption.

“Let me kiss you.” he whispers softly.

You hesitate for a moment, “but you hardly know me.”

“y/n, I know I’ll remember you. Let me kiss you.”

Uncertainty begins to swirl within you like a tempest. However, his eyes ignite a flame of trust in your heart. Leaning forward, you meet his lips in a tentative kiss, a gentle exploration of emotions that have been suppressed.

In that fleeting moment of connection, you feel a glimmer of recognition as if a door to the past has been cracked open, allowing fragments of forgotten moments to seep through.

As the kiss deepens, a sense of familiarity washes over you, intertwining your souls in a dance as old as time itself. The weight of unspoken apologies and unshed tears melts away in the heat of this newfound intimacy, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that binds you together in shared longing and hope.

When you finally pull away, breathless and trembling, Marc's gaze meets yours with a mixture of yearning and uncertainty, as if seeking validation in the depths of your eyes. For a moment, the world around you fades into insignificance, leaving only the echo of his touch lingering on your lips.

“I will remember you,” he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, “I promise.”

With a silent nod, you offer him a small smile. “I know you will. I’ll help you.”

join my taglist!

Taglist: @guacam011y

[aziraphales-library]

i’ve been looking for some human AU aziracrow fics where either crowley or azi are mentally ill/suicidal/traumatized etc etc, but I can find any D: i’d really appreciate it if you could help me out! thank you for your work on this blog :)

We have lots of tags you can check out: #mental health, #aziraphale's trauma, #crowley's trauma, #crowley has ptsd, #aziraphale has ptsd, and #tw suicide. Here are a selection of human aus to add to the mental health tag. Mind the warnings on some of these, folks!...

Staying In by hiya_angel (T)

Crowley shook his head, pressing his palms into his eyes before stepping closer, meeting Aziraphale’s gaze with earnest eyes. “I thought I’d scared you, gone too fast. I didn’t think you wanted…” He trailed off, biting his lip as his eyes flickered down to his feet. “Wanted what?” Aziraphale whispered, heart pounding so hard against his chest he was sure the neighbors could hear it. “I didn’t think you wanted… to be, er, my Angel.”

With or without you, I'm lost anyway by RandomLoner_1412 (T)

Anthony J Crowley is a man with a lot of issues. One day, one of these lands him in a mental health institute, which is something he's less than pleased about. But as he gets to know the other patients, or rather one very odd other patient, he finds out not everything is what it seems, and maybe larger forces than himself are at play...

What is forgiveness but the silence after a scream? by Moonstone_Lingo (M)

After being forced to return to the town he once ran away from decades ago when he hears of his mother's death, Aziraphale is confronted with a past he wants to forget, but one that is hauntingly insistent on being relived. When a chance encounter with a stranger reveals that Crowley is not far away at all, Aziraphale must consider which he cares about more: his belief in God or his love for Crowley, and not wanting to choose, he quickly discovers he cannot have both. Unsure whether it is already too late, Aziraphale learns that he has to fight for what he wants before it slips out of his grasp. or "God loves you, Crowley." "not enough to stop hurting me." "I love you, Crowley." "not enough to save me."

The Work of Living by comicgeekery (E)

One day, seemingly out of nowhere, Crowley goes from being a happy man in a loving relationship to someone terrified that the world as he knows it could come to an end. Aziraphale has been experiencing extreme depression, but hiding it well. Then he makes an attempt on his life. He doesn't die, but it's a near thing. Now Crowley and Aziraphale have to figure out what comes next together. They have to find hope again. Because sometimes life needs more than love. It takes work too. (The love helps though.)

As Yet Untitled by badwolfgirlicouldkissyou (E)

Aziraphale Fell is a number one best-selling author, despite his lack of self confidence and desire to hide from the public eye. Whilst fighting off his anxiety disorder at the premiere of his first novel's feature film adaptation, he meets an enigmatic, mysterious photographer who seems to only have eyes for him. Can they navigate their newfound bond? Or will past trauma and current obstacles get in their way?

This Phantom Life by anatomicgirl (E)

Zee slipped back into his flat and closed the door quietly. This had been a mistake. He could feel the edges of his carefully pasted-together life starting to curl, exposing the raw undersides. It was a good thing he was near the end of his current manuscript, because he needed to be as shut-in as possible. Allow some distance between the conversation tonight and the next time he spoke with Crowley. Let the spark of this connection fizzle out before it took root. *** Zee (Aziraphale) Marsh is a widowed hermit who secretly writes bestselling romance novels under the pseudonym Bella Swansea. His life is rigorously controlled until his new downstairs neighbor arrives. Anthony Crowley causes something to come alive in Zee that he hasn't seen in over twenty years, but Crowley brings with him some of his own very dark secrets.

- Mod D