#maybe i should get my brows waxed too

[miss-floral-thief]

messy but the new palette looks ok

[hobiebrownismygod]

Y'all I got my face threaded last week and it hurt like FUCK so lets make another Pavitr headcanon

Pavitr prob gets his eyebrows threaded every four or five weeks.

The guy obviously cares about his appearance, I mean he takes good care of his hair, he likes to flex his muscles, he shows off in a very cocky way. So obviously, he's gonna care about how his face looks, and I think he'd prob get his eyebrows threaded, maybe even his sideburns, just so he can look fresh at all times yk

I mean look at those brows goddamn

Lots of Indians get their eyebrows and just faces in general threaded because we have very thick hair and threading it shapes it out better.

I have really thick eyebrows and they don't have a lot of shape, so I get them threaded so they'll have more of an arch and look better.

I know other people tend to pluck or wax their eyebrows to give them shape, but like 99% of desi people get them threaded. You can get your entire face threaded too instead of waxing or shaving, and it prevents you from getting wrinkles because shaving isnt' good for your skin and waxing stretches it out so threading can prevent that

anyway I recommend threading and y'all should try it out if you haven't before cuz it can be very helpful

you only need to get it done every month or two and its honestly a gamechanger

I bet Pavitr convinced Hobie and Gwen to start getting theirs done too

They can all slay together

you cannot tell me that gwen doesn't do something to her eyebrows bro look at that arch goddamn

Taglist:

@therealloopylupin2099 @s6onder @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe

[small-sinclair]

Hello, I'm new to your blog but absolutely loved your Bo x Sleepy S/O headcanons. Was wondering how you think Bo would handle a very independent stubborn reader that doesn't know how to ask for help; getting far too ill to be going around the house. Maybe with a sprinkle of bashfulness? Hope this ask happens to be your cup of tea, I'm new to the blog and honestly haven't sent an ask to anyone in ages XD Thanks in advance, sending you best wishes ^u^

Welcome to my blog, new friend! This is just my cup of tea, too. I wrote this a while back when I was sick that has all three brothers! (pst, @fluffy-little-demon and @leewalkin, thought of y'all when I made this)

Enjoy!

Bo with a sick s/o

Bo is like a weed: He'll thrive under any condition.

You, on the other hand, have an HP of 3 plus 10 fall damage.

But you're one determine motherfucker.

You crowed out of bed, swaying side to side. You feel the world weighing you down and you just want to sleep... but you have work to do around the house.

Besides, you don't want to quit now. You're so close to proving to everyone you belong in Ambrose, so why is your body betraying you.

Then you fall down the stairs...

Bo nearly drops the coffee pt on his hand, but he caught himself and placed it back on the burn. He set his mug down on the kitchen counter as he leaves the kitchen. Sometimes, Vincent would miss a step if he go too little sleep. As much as he doesn't say it, he hates it when his twin over does it (thought they are almost done with their mother's dream).

"Vincent?" He asked coming to the steps. "Hey! Get your Vincent van Gogh waxed ass back to," he stops at the bottom of the steps and sees you with your face in the wooden floor, "...bed." He kneels down and slowly lifts you into his arms, resting your head in his shoulder. He's not in a rush or sure if he should be worried about you. "Darlin'? Y/n?" He asked, shaking you slightly. "Sweet heart?"

"I'm good, Bo," you murmur, pushing yourself weakly against him. You tried to get up, but you felt your knees buckle and you slouched against his arms. "I need to get work done."

"Honey, words are slurrin'," Bo raises a brow at you. "Bed. Sleep. Now."

You shake your head as you tried to move again. "I can handle it."

"Ya can't even stand."

"I don't need no man to tell me shit," you playfully smack his chest, but your hand felt too heavy. You leaned against his chest and hummed at his warmth. "Warm... you're so warm."

You felt the back of his hand, and he clicks his tongue. "Sweetheart, yer burnin' faster than heart burn on a Sunday." You felt his arms under your legs as he lifts you up. He carries you upstairs back to your room.

"No, no," you whined. "Don't..."

"Yes," he replies. He places you back in bed and tucks you in. Again, his hand went to your forehead. He holds a still face as he looks back at your personal bathroom you two share. "I reckon I'll hav' Les go t'town for fever meds an' oranges."

You giggle as you felt your brain melt fast. "You talk funny, Bo."

He doesn't smile or smirk like he normally does. He leans down and kisses your head. "Sleep, honeydew, 'n I'll be back."

*****************

By the time you wake up again, it's in the afternoon and you smell soup. Bo came up the steps with a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice. It's hard fro you to keep your eyes open, but he caught you in time.

He placed the food and glass down and takes out a bottle of medicine from his pants pocket. "Keep yer eyes open, love," he says, his voice softer than normal. "Ya need to eat an' move around some."

He sits on the side of the bed and helps you sit up. Your bones ache and grind together, and you sigh in relief as soon as your back is against the bed frame. You felt his hand against your forehead and he shakes his head, sighing disappointingly. His hand moves and brushes your back.

"Can you feed yourself?" He asked, his voice teetering on annoyance.

"Yes" you lied, your voice close to a whisper. It's getting harder to keep your eyes open. You hate that you're stuck here. Hate that you're weak in front of him. Your hand grips the spoon but your fingers can't move it. You try again but it doesn't work.

Bo's calloused hand pushes your hand away gently and takes the bowl. He scouts closer... then a spoon comes up. "Open an' blow, darlin'," he warns at the end. "Hot." You do as your told and you allow him to feed you. "There ya go, y/n. Goin' so good," he praises lightly, his voice heavy in his southern drawl. "Doin' real good now. After 'is, o.j. an' medicine."

You blushed at his words and looked away. "You think I'm good?" You asked bashfully.

"T'best, darlin'," he reassured, flashing you a charming smile. "Doin' real good." He put the soup down and held the glass to your lips. "Slow sips." He tilts the glass as you do what you're told as you drunk slow and steady. You motioned your hand to him to show you're done and he sets the barely half glass down. "Almost done. Look at ya," his hand rubs your knee, "ya such a star."

"A star?"

"A star," he gives you a smile.

He gives you your medicine and lays you back down.

As he leaves, he stops at the door and looks back at you. His heart falls a bit when he sees you breathing slowly, too slow for his liking.

He leaves for what felt like minutes and he's right back in your room. He takes off his work clothing and keeps his black boxers and white tank-top on. Bo comes on the other side of the bed and pulls you close. You rest on his shoulder and he brushes your hair.

"Yer sick," he whispers. "Fever ain't breakin', sweatin' lik' a sinner in church, sleepy and in need of help." His voice echoes in his chest, making you feel like you hear him in a cave. "Closed the shop, finished t'kill, Vincent's got a new project... hav'ta be a hen over a sick little chick." Bo's hand racks through your hair as you started to feel sleep take you again. "Sleep, y/n. There'll be monsters to fight t'morrow."

"You're not a monster," you hummed. Lazily, you lifted your hand and caress his check. "You're not a monster."

He lifts a brow and looks at you. He doesn't stop rubbing your back. "What am I then?" He asked curiously.

You snuggle up against his side and flutter your eyes close. You feel as safe and snuggled against him, his warmth lulling you to sleep. "A helper," you babble sleepily. "Best... helper..."

As you sleep, he kept an eye on you as a smile crept over his lips. He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. "Sleep well, birdie," he whispers against your skin. "Sleep well. Dream of a better place than here."

Bo pulls you a little closer and kisses your forehead and ends up sleeping with you in his grasp.

[dontneedhair]

Going As Far As I Possibly Can

Those who keep following this blog and don‘t only look at the pictures maybe remember that I wrote that I epilated/plucked/waxed everywhere, except for my beard, which I only shave. I had tried to epilate the beard as well almost two years ago, but didn‘t get very far due to the pain factor.

I‘ve always assumed that laser isn‘t really an option for me due to the fact that my hair is (would be) blond. In any case, since my entire body is hair free and without shadow/thick stubble anywhere except for the beard area, it seemed to me that I had reached the limit of my possibilities - and I also knew that what I had done was both rare and drastic already.

However, not too long ago, a fellow fan of the (totally) hairless look mentioned to me how special it would be to be entirely smooth and stubble/shadow free everywhere, including the face and neck. Going for the full alopecia look, so to speak.

After my failed attempt from 2022 I had felt comfortable with the situation as it was; as much as I loved the smooth feeling and the shadow less look, the one advantage I had always seen in the shadow was that it kind of makes a statement that not having hair is a conscious choice. I still think that.

But I couldn‘t get rid of the thought how nice it would be to experience at least once what it is like to literally have no trace of hair anywhere, that nothing could be felt or seen because everything had been ripped out, and even initial regrowth would be barely noticeable. I also assumed that at least most of the beard would grow back if, after having achieved the goal, I wanted to go back to having a beard shadow.

Remembering how impossible using the epilator on my chin, around the mouth and on the neck had felt, I decided to follow a different approach this time: I took the (hot) wax I use for my nostrils and ears and applied it on all those most painful areas. That worked somewhat ok on my neck, even though ripping off the wax felt definitely already above my pain threshold - only that I didn‘t have a choice, it had to come off one way or another.

(Before the painful moment, and what the wax managed to get, though you are not looking at the same wax on both photos.)

On my chin and above the mouth, however, the wax ended up pulling at the hair, but would eventually let go and rip out next to nothing (still painful, but not as bad). My attempts at pulling out individual hairs with tweezers also failed; what I mostly did was just pinching my skin.

For that reason, I figured all that was left to try was, again, the epilator. So I did a wet shave and waited about half a day, and then simply started. The epilator already managed to grab some of the very fist stubble when applied the right way. I kept going as long as I could, often only a split second, before the pain got too intense.

(No, I still cannot really recommend this… )

Then, after a break of a couple of hours, I did another session. That wasn‘t the best idea because some spots were already severely irritated. The beard area is really hard to work on with an epilator, much of the skin is somewhat loose, apart from being very tender. Going over the same spots multiple times should be avoided, which I mostly ignored till things started to look really bad.

Though things were much better the next morning, I still ended up looking like this for two days:

(Nice, isn‘t it?)

On the third day, I did wet shave and most of the red dots came off. I could already notice that the beard was getting thinner:

(The shadow has already diminished.)

Later that same day, I took the epilator to the beard area for the third time. While this is by far not over, I am slowly getting impression that I am getting somewhere.

As said, if I manage to epilate the beard completely, I‘ll have reached the full alopecia look, which is an exciting thought. If I then kept on epilating, I would expect for my beard to become as low maintenance as the scalp and brows already are. Regrowth would likely diminish, maybe cease in some spots (or would the entire beard eventually disappear?). The question will be if I like the look enough to keep tweezing.

[hannibalzero]

blast from the past

Charthur dabble!

🦌🦬🦌🦬

Heading into the general store, Mary Linton…or was it Gills again?

Windowing was such a hard time.

Mary gave a nod to the man that held the door open for her. She had come to Valentine to get her brother Jamie to come back home.

Daddy and Jamie had a fight.

…again.

Just wanting sometime to do, going to the general for a sewing book. Mary spotted a familiar black hat with a fired rope but now had beads on it. That handsome back, strong and broad. Worn blue jeans that showed off the cowboys-

Mary hand to stop herself for a moment.

She was a church going women after all.

But it couldn’t be.

Arthur Morgan, all grown up.

Not the boy she almost ran away with.

Almost married too.

But he was standing next to the sewing books, looking down at a set of paper dolls. One in each hand. Brow furrowed as he chewed on a tooth pick, trying to make a decision on something he had no understand off.

Mary wished she had pulled her corset a bit tighter now, taking out her compact she tuck a bit of hair behind her ears and checked her powers. She looked fine, not great but acceptable.

Finding her voice, Mary made her move.

“Hello Arthur.” She said,

Those same blue eyes of the boy that loved her so, looked to her as a grown man. Time had been kind to Arthur, age had made him handsome. Strong and well a man of the west.

Surprise lit up Arthur’s face. “Mary Linton, it’s been’a long time.” Arthur greeted shuffling the books of paper dolls to his chest as he tipped his hat, a ring caught Mary’s eye. She had no clue what material it was but turquoise was imbedded in it. “You look well.”

“It’s…Gill’s again…” Mary shuffled

“Sorry to hear that.” Arthur gave a nod of his head. “What brings you, here?”

“Oh um, Jamie. He’s bound and determined to set up an apple orchard. Dropped out of school, daddy if awfully upset.”

Arthur nodded and looked back to the paper dolls at hand.

“Do you? Live here?” Mary asked

“Naw, passin’ through.” He looked to Mary now. “Can I ask ya somethin? Need a women’s opinion.” Arthur asked surprising Mary, maybe Arthur has changed? He used to jump at the idea of helping her.

Mary blinked “I suppose.”

“My littlest is about ta be four, been wantin’ paper dolls like her big sister. But there are so many? Ladies and pets…cuse she loves critters. Or maybe the babydoll one? She’s fascinated because we have a new baby comin’. Should I just buy paper and make her some?” He showed the two boxes to Mary.

Mary was very surprised now. Arthur had married? He has children? She cleared her throat.

“If memory serves you are a wonderful artist. I would suggest making the dolls. She would probably like the ‘critters’ you’ve drawn better than the pets. She is a Morgan.” Mary was baiting the man to see if he was married. “How many children do you have?” She asked

Taking the advice Arthur nodded and set the packages down before picking up the cardstock and colored pencils along with wax paper. “Thank ya, I have two. Oldest is almost seven she’s a handful my Dyani, then I have my little girl Awinita. She wants to be like’er sister so badly.”

“You married an in-“

“Mary Gills, don’t you start.” Arthur warned “you married someone too.” He pointed out. Taking out his pocket watch and checked the time. Taking a breath Arthur forced himself to relax.

“Good seein’ ya, wish ya all the best. I gotta get going.” Arthur went to pay, this also surprised Mary. She couldn’t help herself grabbing Arthur’s arm.

“Arthur, I still think of you fondly.” She had no idea why she blurted this out. “Would you..ever consider…”

Arthur pressed a finger to her lips. “Now Mary, we had our time. Did I love ya with everything I had? Yes. But..I got me someone who loves me…even when I was beaten and broken. I love’em too, makes me a better man. I got my girls, gotta baby comin’ and a life. A honest one too.” He moved his hand away now.

“Ya understand?”

Mary looked down unable to meet the man’s eyes. “Forgive me, I…suppose I just needed to…truly see if things were over.” She blinked as a thought hit her.

“Man?” She mumbled to herself as Arthur paid and practically ran out the door. A hand on his lower belly.

“Arthur Smith! ya damn fool. Got to think about Charles again and ran ya mouth.” Arthur grumbled to himself heading to the horse stables where his family was.

[rainbowcaleb]

Jester's Haunting

(wip snippet)

A hand skitters across his shoulders and Caleb twitches at the sensation, as all logical body reactions would, but he only laughs instead of jumping.

“Damn, I thought for sure that’d get you.” Veth ducks out from behind the chair and sticks out her tongue in mock pout. “Beau’s scary story didn’t get to you at all?”

“Spiders don’t frighten me, Veth. I’ve slept near much worse.” Caleb takes another sip of his warm apple cider and smiles as Veth plops next to him and grabs her own cup.

Jester reaches her hands across the table between them all, making grabbing motions at Beau. “My turn, my turn, pass me the candle!”

Beau gives her an uncertain expression. “Jester you are surrounded by extremely flammable candy wrappers. You sure you want to add an open flame?”

Jester pushes some of the wrappers back on the floor and Caleb is grateful that the mess of tower-generated candy trash will simply disappear tomorrow. It is a formidable pile.

“I can’t tell my story without the right ambience!” Jester holds out her hands expectantly and Beau slides over the candle, wax already pooling around the metal base from the length of her own story.

“Make it super scary, Jester, don’t play soft with us.” Veth gives her a wink, likely already thinking of what live action addition she can add to the storytelling.

“Maybe not too scary though?” Fjord asks. “There’s still a few more days until Hallow’s Eve, we should save some of the excitement for later.”

Beau jabs her elbow into his side. “You’re such a baby. Jester, add an extra turtle to your story just for him.”

Fjord sighs, but before he can speak Yasha raises her hand. “I want to tell my story tomorrow. I think you need a day to rest before hearing it.”

“Well. That is extremely ominous, thank you Yasha.” Fjord laughs, but his brows scrunch with anxiety.

“And Caduceus is last! We already agreed his will be the totally spookiest, so best for last!” Jester brings the candle closer to her face, underlighting her blue skin with ripples of warm glow. “My story begins at night.”

“They all do.” Beau interrupts.

Jester rolls her eyes. “It isn’t just any night. It’s a pleasant fall evening, the leaves are turning colors and the wind is getting that crisp smell. You want to go outside and watch the stars start winking in the sky but you can’t. You can’t move at all.”

A hush falls over the Nein, the mugs of cider have stopped clinking on the table. The crosstalk quieted.

[cloveroctobers]

R. Jerimovich | summer/fall prompts !

A/N: yeah this was supposed to be included in my summer prompt collection but time got away from me. Decided to combine and make this my first October prompt of 2022! Hope you enjoy! I’m wondering what they’re gonna do for season 2? I’m challenging myself to write shorter prompts so I can get work out in a timely manner…here goes nothing 😆!

Update; no luck :/ + WARNINGS: language + enemies to lovers? Or rather shit-talking to friends? Lol. Friends with benefits? Is this a Richie x reader or is it undercover Mikey x reader? Idk I just tried to write what it would be like to have him as a friend but it felt a little questionable at times lol. Anyways! Hope you like this 🫶🏽

Prompt: Skinny dipping + Campfire Evenings + 31. “Do you ever wonder if you’d survive a horror movie?”

*ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄

Yeah…you didn’t know what the fuck you were doing here but when your phone lit up, you were on go. His texts should have stayed green but you loved being needed and that was a problem in itself. It has been at least three weeks since the last time you talked to Richie, catching him all dressed up on a date. It was laughable to you, how he could put in the effort for some stranger but couldn’t bother to do the same for you.

He could if he really wanted to.

You’ve always been sidelined and you knew you didn’t deserve it. It was the same useless story since you went off to college and still decided to come back to Chicago. You were there first, through it all and he still chose someone else. You were there for the wedding, the birth of his daughter, and the divorce but somehow you were always second. Even when it came to your shared friendship with Mikey Berzatto…it was a complex trio.

“Why don’t you just date me?” Michael asked you one night; as you ranted over a new Monica joint blasting through your phone.

This was said during a dreadful December, two months before he passed.

You quirked up a brow as Michael glanced back at you, arms hanging over the railing with the view of Chicago’s river walk in the distance, “would you?”

Michael snorted at you with a shake of his head. “Trust me, if I could get a babe like you to fall in love wit a fella like me? It be a honor. But naah I’m not putting myself through that heartbreak! plus I love you too much to even think about you that way. although…it would be fun to piss rich off.”

Scoffing you folded your arms into your lap, leaning forward as you braced yourself against the brutal winter air. Michael maybe five years older than you but you instantly clicked, ever since you became neighbors with your family across the street. The both of you were friends for awhile but Richie knew him first, since their childhood although there was a year or two difference between them. He always liked to make that known, arm lounging around Mikey’s shoulders as he drunkenly boasted, “this right here is my fucken guy! My fucken brother!”

And of course Mikey Berzatto ate that up, grin as wide as the bridge of his nose, “yeah, yeah that’s right you better love me.”

“What? I thought it was a given that you’re my bitch!” Richie pecked the man’s cheek, earning a scowl from the then spiked haired man.

“Your what? Fuck outta here. Moments ruined, jackoff!” Mikey laughed, shoving the man towards you, who stumbled back with you quickly stepping out of the way to not be toppled by the 6’1 man.

Richie caught himself by the bar, slumping against one of the seats by you. He sighed, cup still in his hand as he blinked over at you who side eyed him, “he’s just playing hard to get like you, huh, baby?”

Which of course earned a eye roll from you as you sipped at the rest of your drink, now twenty-one and sent a middle finger at the striking blue eyed man. Both men howled with laughter, Michael reaching over to rest a hand in between your shoulder blades.

“That’s right, y/n! He ain’t worth your time!”

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, clean the wax outta your ears, rich!”

“I’m the best thing she’s got.” Richie argued.

Mikey scrunched up his lips while you glared at a very drunk Richie, “Which is equal to dog shit.”

That earned a cackle from you, picked fro thrown back as you did with Mikey’s hand still resting on your upper back.

“What the fuck?!” Richie’s enlarged eyes were clearly offended but it’s not like Mikey cared much.

He was just telling it like it was, he’s been on the inside of both relationships and was honest with each of you on what he truly thought.

He then wrapped his large arms fully around your neck, giving you a brief squeeze then kissed your temple, “I think she agrees.”

He winked.

Michael was just magnetic that way and there was something about you that he liked the first day he met you, kicking over a garbage can into the street to get the attention of the garbage men who were extremely close to backing into your father’s Toyota Celica that he just gave you for your eighteenth birthday.

You ended up fracturing your foot in two places but at least the garbage men didn’t ruin your new sweet ride. Michael had to give you credit, you knew how to get your point across if you got pushed enough. Since the moment you and your family moved in, he waved to your ma often, not having much time to talk since it seemed like she was always rushing off to work. Michael knew the feeling at twenty-three but as the second man in the berzatto household, he knew hard work since he was practically in diapers! You on the other hand were hard to come by with Michael working crazy hours at the Original Beef of Chicagoland with his dad but when he did see you, he always wondered what you were up to next.

“that the one that broke her foot kicking that garbage can?” A twenty-one year old Richie asked, as Michael and him were making their way back to the Berzatto household for Sunday dinner.

You were dragging your booted foot down the steps, keys jingling in your hand as you took your time going down them.

“Yeah that’s her.” Michael replied, blunt perched between his lips.

Richie decided to call out, “hey, sweetheart! I heard you like kicking cans! And it usually means having a full-time meeting with our maker above. You know you’re usually supposed to drag them to the sidewalk or street if you prefer.”

“And, and, anddd, minding your got damn business is free! So you might want to work a little harder if you want to be hired, asswipe.” You called back out in a sweet tone, hand resting on the railing of the stairs, with the other on your hip as you took a break.

Mikey laughed at the clapback, smacking Richie’s shoulder who was now glaring at you from across the street. “Sorry about my dumb friend here, y/n! Don’t pay him any mind.”

“Thanks, Mikey. I won’t!” You beamed from across the street, making the gelled haired man laugh once more.

Richie held his hands out, confused on what was happening right now. Why was he being ganged up on…especially by some pretty chick Mikey suddenly befriended? Yeah he was feeling a little pressed.

“Well I hope you have a good rest of the day then!” Richie continued, “try kicking a lamp post this time, maybe you’ll break your shit in three places.”

“How about I come over there and kick your ass instead, Hm? ‘Ol bean pole looking—

“Come see me then!” Richie waved his fingers over at the girl.

Mikey jumped in front of his friend, stepping into the street behind a parked car as he actually saw you start to move down your steps again.

“Okay!” Mikey coughed before clapping his hands together then pulled the blunt to rest behind his ear, “no! Let’s start over, Richie this is my lovely neighbor y/n, she’s all studious which I’m sure you can tell with the glasses and shit, loves cats, sandwiches, and cars. Y/n this is my knucklehead best friend, Richie. He’s basically a extra brother I didn’t want but my right hand, got the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, loves a good pair of adidas, and hates trains.”

Richie had his eyes in slits, still staring over at you while you pushed your oval glasses against your nose.

“…why don’t you like trains?”

“Huh?”

“I said, Why don’t you like trains?” You repeated.

“They don’t ever know where the fuck they’re going! The L’s got too many lines: red, pink, brown—the hell is this? Twister?! Fuck.”

A bubble of laughter escaped your lips while Michael lightly shook his head at his friend who was easily frustrated discussing the train routes.

“Well…you could always drive.”

“In this traffic? With what car?! Mikey’s hoopty? The thing can’t even get around the block without blowing a tornado outta its ass!” The long curly haired man fanned his hands.

“This is my last warning,” Mikey pointed at the taller man, “Don’t talk about my baby like that, rich.”

Richie scoffed.

You blew out a raspberry as you now stood on your side of the sidewalk, “sounds tough, Richard. But I’ve gotta go to my car over there so enjoy that train ride or don’t.”

“It’s Richie.”

“That’s what I said,” you blinked before turning back to Mikey, “catch you later, Mikey? Tell sugar I said hey.”

“Will do. Take it easy out there on them streets, huh?”

“Of course. I’m no idiot.”

“I know it, just don’t need to hear from your dad down at Chicagoland you went and injured somethin’ else.”

“Too charming for me, Mikey.” You smiled, slowly strolling over to your car as Richie watched this whole exchange, chewing down on his bottom lip.

Mikey puffed out a laugh, beginning to back up onto the curb as you took your time climbing into your car, always on the go. You started up your car, leaving your driver side and passenger side windows ajar as your car vibrated with Lil Wayne’s, “Way of life.”

Busting a U-Turn you drove by the boys waving as you went the opposite direction.

“That girl listens to Weezy?”

Michael glanced at his friend, “yeah, so?”

“I expected Alicia keys, Sugababes, or even Celine dion like sugar.” Richie shrugged, still looking down the streets.

Michael snorted as he knocked his knuckles against Richie’s abdomen, “uh oh you seem kinda concerned there, Richard. I knew she would have your interest.”

“What?” Richie inhaled, “me and that four eyed bow-legged—

“Hey,” Michael cut in, “she’s cool. You started with her remember? That girl ain’t do nothing to you.”

“She called me a asswipe and a bean pole!” Richie placed his hand on his chest as they carried on to Michael’s house, “I work out, okay!”

“That was after you told her to break her foot some more,” Michael yelled as he began jogging up the three steps to his house, “and all you do is jog in place and do three push ups whenever Juliana and the twins show up at the park.”

“Oh fuck off,” richie shoved Michael inside of his house as the older boy pushed the front door open, “I should be the one grilling you! You seem quite in love with her yourself!”

“Nah,” Michael shook his head, “don’t do that. We’re friends and she’s eighteen, that’s not for me. I just wanted you two to meet, put a name to the face her dad was telling my old man about the other day.”

“Can’t say I believe that, Mikey.”

“Believe whatever the hell you want then.”

The two had a intense stare off before the voice of a young Carmy called out to his big brother.

“Mike! Sugar needs your help with ma!”

Michael broke his stare with his best friend to see his dark blond haired brother leaning over the banister of the stairs. He sighed knowing what this meant as he glanced at Richie who waved him along.

“Right, c’mon down here with Richie, Carmy.”

Carmy appeared as if he was ready to argue but the look Mikey gave him made the eight year old mutter to himself instead. He thudded down the steps, leaving Mikey to plop a palm against the top of his head nudging it around before he headed up the steps himself.

“Sup, little shit. What you into these days?” Richie shoved his hands into his pockets as Carmy stared at him with his own set of round blue eyes.

Carmy puffed out a breath, “a helluva lot more than you, richie. I’m gonna call dad.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Richie scoffed at the small boy who jogged by him to enter the kitchen.

The memories kept hitting you and Richie as you sat bundled with a blanket around the firepit. The heat radiated against your frame as you sat, legs crossed over the other while a slight breeze continued to pick up. It’s been a couple of hours since you pulled up to the coach house Richie pin dropped to you and you had a lot of questions.

Why was he renting this airbnb for the two of you when he was the main one who was the penny pincher? Your eyes held the questions but Richie was all grins as he held out a glass of red wine and a spliff in between his lips as he greeted you.

A simple:

i miss u. cme see me 🤲 — Richard

With a location attached was what got you here. Foolish, you knew. The directions let you know it would be a good drive and you had the weekend off so you wondered if you needed to pack a bag. Unfortunately that was your first thought with the second being should you even bother with this Richie Jerimovich? It caught you off guard with Richie being on a full on date after you called your arrangement quits due to Richie not wanting to commit. That was three weeks ago, it hurt but you kept yourself busy as a front desk supervisor down at the starcloud hotel. No matter how much you tried to put it to the back of your mind, it didn’t help that richie felt the need to text you the next afternoon letting you know that the date didn’t go anywhere.

Leaving him on read made you feel better than the actual news. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that the pain subsided about 10% at that. Then another text asking you to come see about him a week later changed everything.

He got naked and decided to go skinny dipping in a jacuzzi but you would not be joining him. Smart choice. You were comfortable sitting right at the firepit despite this man slinging everything around in his own glory. The silence was loud after Richie’s obnoxious rant the first time he stepped into the steaming water but it was quieter on this side of town.

“Stop staring at me, Richard.” You slouched further into your chair, knowing he was doing just that.

“I’m not.”

“I can feel your eyes.”

“No you can’t.” He denied.

You suddenly turned your head to Richie who visibly flinched at your movement, “see!”

“That’s because you started talkin’ to me, it’s called respect! You look at people when they’re talking to you, no?”

“You’re so full of shit, just admit it.” You laughed.

Richie suddenly stood up from the water hands held out, “you don’t know everything, y/n! And look at you now, looking at me in all of god’s given glory!”

You kept your eyes fully on this man’s face, “I’m looking at you because you’re talkin’ to me, it’s called respect!” You paraphrased.

Richie slammed his hands down into the water, “Jesus Christ! Don’t give me no lip tonight.”

“Put some clothes on!”

“Give me a minute, sweetheart! I’m tryna brace myself here.”

You snickered as the wind picked up hearing Richie let out a string of curse words, followed by the sloshing of water. He then ran towards the opposite chair by the firepit and snatched up a blanket to wrap around himself before he plopped down.

After a moment he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“Mmm, must have been hard.”

Richie sent you a look while you bite back a laugh, waving your hand for him to continue.

“About a lot: Mikey, the business, fucken baby new year—

“Carmy?”

“Obviously,” Richie hissed, “this isn’t about him though.”

“Then get on with it.”

“Stop rushing me! I’m trying to have a heart to heart with you here!”

Did you want to have a heart to heart right now? That you were unsure of.

“…do you ever wonder if you’d survive a horror movie?” He suddenly asked after a brief silence filled by the crackling of fire and crickets.

Tilting your head to the side you sat up, hands clenching the arm rests beside you, “you plotting something? If you are, I might have to head inside for a little bit.”

Richie scoffed, “calm your pretty face, babe. I’m not here to do you anymore harm, okay? I’m talkin’…what’s the word? Metaphorically. Life is the horror story, get me?”

Sitting back you hummed. Whenever richie got high he got to talking about the what if’s and it’s always been that way since you’ve known him. However you could tell from your spot across from him that this conversation meant more to him.

“Some of us do,” you started, “I want to. So yes I’ve thought about it, back when I lost my mom and when we lost Mikey. Life gains more meaning when you lose someone important and have to continue on without them.”

“Exactly!” Richie agreed, “it’s kinda ironic. You got to experience lost before you really step back and look at life and live it. The pandemic kinda started that for me, not being able to see my daughter even when fucken Juliana caught that shit—

He stopped himself clearing his throat. He felt anger talking about the woman he once called his wife but sadness when he thought about his constant absence in his daughter’s life. He didn’t want to be a repeat of his own father and yet here he was…

“I had to do things I never thought of doing,” richie spoke, you knew he and Mikey had to deal to keep the original beef afloat. You got it out of Mikey since Richie was so stubborn and sure of himself. They both said they didn’t want to get you involved and you weren’t, you just knew about it. You were their friends so it was only right that you knew about their struggles too? However that didn’t work out too well with Mikey, you bitterly thought.

Richie sniffed as he looked at you, “and it makes you look at things differently. It’s been two years since then and I just—get worked up because I really do care…although I can be dismissive.”

“What are you saying, Richie?”

“Life shouldn’t be this lonely. It’s horrifying, y/n.”

Deeply inhaling and exhaling you took a moment. Did this feel the same as it’s always been? You and Richie were on and off for years now, that came to a halt the minute he married Juliana. He came to your college graduation with her (and Mikey of course!) and that’s when you found out she was pregnant. There was distance with you away in Atlanta but that didn’t mean you didn’t have your fun either. You convinced yourself that you did not need to be hung up over no man and you believed that for awhile.

When you decided to come back to Chicago you had one serious boyfriend, moving on and becoming closer with Mikey during this time. Richie was a new time dad and had to balance life at home with the growing restaurant. It seemed as if the life was slowly draining out of him and you felt for Richie. How couldn’t you? Once upon a time you loved him so deeply. Things were different and you knew it had to do with his poor communication with Juliana, you wondered if she ever found out that Richie drunkenly showed up to your apartment telling you that he wasn’t in love with her and felt stuck. Then there was a baby in the mix.

“He should of thought of that before he put a baby in her, that’s his own problem, y/n. Not yours, just focus on your own relationship. Rich will figure it out.” Mikey often told you at your breakfast meetings.

You missed those breakfast meetings. You only became a breakfast person because of Michael Berzatto…on the other hand? You’d stay right in bed, which is what you were back to doing.

Losing Michael completely shifted the routine.

“I want us to be able to talk again. Really talk again instead of the bickering, disappearing on each other and screwing—even if that’s a pretty awesome time.” He smirked at you while you rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Aw, you want to be my friend again, richie?”

Richie huffed, “I was always your friend even when I couldn’t stand your ass.”

“So the first day we met?”

“Eh, don’t know if I’d go that far. Maybe a little after.” He answered, “anybody that’s a friend of Mikey’s is usually a friend of mine. Guy’s got solid judgment—better than I ever had!”

You wondered what he was hinting at but didn’t push it.

“What do you think he’d tell us to do if he was here with us?” You leaned your cheek into your palm.

Richie snorted, “tell us to kiss and make up already.”

“I’m not kissing you.”

“Why not? Friends kiss! Italians love giving kisses!”

Smacking your lips you stated, “Richard, you’re Serbian.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Richie fanned his hand, “so can we hug it out then?”

“As friends? Sure, since you went out of your way to invite me to this place for the weekend.”

Richie nodded, “yeah even got us separate rooms and everything. Some love—as friends would be nice.”

“The bare minimum.” You mumbled, “…I’m not ready to move yet so can we get a rain check on that?”

Richie stared at you with those bright eyes almost demanding, “come here.”

You didn’t move right away because you didn’t take orders from nobody. You liked to push Richie’s buttons so you sat there, taking your sweet time before you found yourself lounging on his lap. It was too comfortable to be back in this position, arms wrapped around Richie’s neck with his nose buried against your shoulder. He could still smell your signature scent of almond oil, Shea, and hyacinth covered by your own blanket…just like he remembered and missed.

When you pulled back you ran your fingers over his low-cut hair, missing when it was longer and curly. Richie watched your movements before your eyes met his, damn, you sure did want to kiss him but it wouldn’t be the best idea.

There was still so much that needed to be figured out and you just claimed friendship again. Holding your breath as Richie shifted, he gripped your neck and quickly placed a peck right by the corner of your lips.

“Love ya! You’re driving me wild, friend.”

Oh so this was going to be a thing now.

You leaned back against him, head resting beside his as you enjoyed the fire together. You just knew one of you would break and although it wasn’t full on the lips, it was just as nice. Closing your eyes you melted into Richie’s touch, the firm grip of his hand on your thigh was comforting.

Whatever the both of you were feeling, leaning against each other was needed.

You sat up, “you’re still naked aren’t you?”

“Yeah, so what?” Amusement was in Richie’s eyes.

“I can’t sit like this.”

“Ah, please. It was never a problem before.” Richie blew a raspberry while you punched at his shoulder, making him wince.

“Ew, friend.” You hoped up, making richie frown.

“What do you mean, Ew? Is anybody real friends if they’ve never seen each other naked before?!”

“…this is different.”

“Yeah, sure. Y/n, don’t be shy now.”

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up.”

“I’m going inside.”

“So am I!” Richie hopped up.

The both of you raced each other to get inside where the real warm and homey feeling existed. Plopping down on the couch, Richie left and reappeared with one of his velour tracksuits before he sat down beside you. He rolled his head over to you, who now yawned flipping through a gossip filled celebrity magazine.

Bumping his shoulder with yours, you raised your brows before you took your eyes off Bennifer sharing a kiss in Los Angeles.

“What?”

“Sorry, friend.”

Before your brows could furrow, Richie tugged you by the neck so your lips could meet.

And you completely melted.

‘Fucking Richie,’ you thought just as you imagined Mikey saying the exact same if he was witnessing this right now.

ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄

Continue along with my fall anthology prompts here & summer prompts here.

[i-like-anything-water]

Really relieved to here you are still posting Chloenette, but either way, I'm going to (Slightly) dial back by including other stuff: Idea 1: Wenclair goes on a double date with Chloenette. Wednesday and Chloe talk about how two "bad girls" like themselves ended up dating a pair of sweethearts, while Marinette shows off her fashion design skills to Enid.

Idea 2: Chloenette, but Chloe and Marinette switch financial situations. Marinette is still nice, but incredibly rich and a bit disconnected from "regular" problems. Chloe is now struggling to get by, and has a big chip on her shoulder about her lot in life.

Idea 3: Chloenette AU where Chloe secretly practices martial arts and enters illegal matches on the streets as a way to vent her frustration and aggression... and somehow ends up with Marinette as her manager as illegal fighting groups begin wanting to recruit her.

I can never give up on any of my ships. They're too precious, ya know?

Idea 1: It starts off with compliments. Their girlfriends are amazing and they want everyone within a ten meter distance to know about it because that's just how they are. They're Addams, it runs in the blood.

The compliments started to get more specific until it had words like 'well my girlfriend is' until the two are just trying to one up each other by trying to compliment their girlfriend that it's more like waxing poetry.

Marinette and Enid are watching from the side as Chloe growls while Wednesday crosses her arms. The two girls sigh as their other halves try (and fail) to intimidate each other.

"You wanna go get ice cream and watch the latest TWICE videos?"

"OMG, yes!"

The two leave and chat as they buy ice cream, Marinette showing some of the designs she thought of when she saw the latest videos and Enid getting excited and gushes on how "so cute!" and "they should totally wear that!".

When they come back Wednesday is already at Chloe's back trying to headlock her. Chloe had transformed to her werebear form and was swatting at Wednesday like a bug.

Idea 2: Reminds me slightly of my Fake Dating AU. Marinette knows she's lucky to be born with wealth and money at her disposal. She doesn't take advantage of it (well, most times) and would rather have her own earnings. Alya teases her how she can be a bit clueless at times regarding financial problems.

She tries to help people as much as she can but Chloe was not most people. She's offered to help the blonde by covering the cost of their paired up projects but she's only met with an indignant huff and a sarcastic reply of, "Don't worry. I'm sure splitting the expenses won't get met out of this place easily."

It's not like she can really blame Chloe. Sure, she was a brat but she was also dealing with a lot of problems. Most problems Marinette haven't had in her sixteen years of living.

It's been eight months since the other girl begrudgingly accepted her (consistent) friendship and well...

"Dupain-Cheng," there's a warning in her voice but Marinette decided it was time to maybe push a little. See how far she can go this time with the blonde.

"Bourgeois," she says it like a tease, her lips turned upward, "Let me pay for our coffee? Come on, just once!"

"You're an insufferable brat."

"Thank you, you taught me well."

"Oh, fuck off. I don't need your money. I can pay for coffee. I'm not a charity case, Dupain-Cheng."

She'd usually give up by now, especially when Chloe uses the 'I can pay for myself and I hate your pity' line. But, she has a plan...

"I know you can, but I also know you want to buy that pretty yellow blanket for Pollen..," she honestly didn't know who Pollen was but guessing from Chloe's stories, it was probably her pet.

A raised brow, "So?"

"So, let me pay for our coffee this time. Get the blanket for the lil fella."

"Dupain-Cheng -"

"Or you could repay me later." Please say yes please say yes please say yes-

"Okay." Yes!

Marinette grinned, "Great! There's this newly opened Japanese restaurant I found and I know you love sushi. Repay me by going with me?"

Chloe's eyes widened, her mouth slightly parted. Her face colored pink as she looked away from the blue haired girl.

"F-fine."

Idea 3: Chloe wasn't sure why she trusted Alix when she said she found her a competent and trustworthy manager for her preferred...hobby. work? lifestyle? honestly she didn't know what to call it but she loved doing it.

She was expecting a stoic stranger, maybe a woman who's seen a lot of things in life to not be worried or deterred about Chloe's job(?). Someone who can come to her matches and strike up deals and competitions with other people while keeping everything professional. She was expecting a coach and a manager.

She was not expecting Dupain-Cheng of all people. Reminder to self: kick Alix's ass next time you meet for brunch.

Marinette, to her credit, did not: stumble, stutter, fluster, speak Adrien's name for the entirety of the conversation, called Chloe a brat or tell her she was lost and she was actually a manager for the build a bear right next to Chloe's favorite diner. So, points for her.

Chloe was still Chloe though. "You seem to be lost."

"And you seem to still be difficult."

A scoff, "Fuck you. Alix is probably laughing at me right now. How did she even get you into this mess? Did she tell you she was looking for someone to manage a newly opened boutique while staring at the boy next store across the street?"

Marinette snorted, "No and I do not stare at the 'boy next store'. That's just rude."

Chloe smirked, "You didn't seem to mind staring at Adrien."

"I was thirteen."

"All I'm hearing is you have a type."

The shorter woman's eyes crinkled in amusement, "Oh? And what is my type, Bourgeois?"

"Nice, perfect, and blonde."

"Hmm, you're right about one thing."

"Perfect?"

"No," Marinette leaned up against her and Chloe felt her breath hitch, "I like them blonde, but I also like them dumb and difficult."

Lol I think I made them too long xD. Thanks for the asks!

[thedastrash]

WIP Wednesday!

Now that my exchange pieces are waiting for Arlathan and Templartations reveals... time to pull out some huge WIPs I've been ignoring and see if I can poke at them until some plot falls out. Here's a chunk of Varric that I like, but I'm not sure where it lives yet. Tags below the cut as usual.

--

Wind howled over the Frostbacks, piling snow drifts against the windward side of every building in Haven. The tent Varric had been given was surprisingly large which meant it was also drafty. He was able to set up a small table and a stool within the canvas walls, but the wax wasn’t enough to keep out the wind. Snowflakes blew in under the walls, wind threatened to whip his papers out from beneath his quill, and his fingers grew numb from the chill. 

Perhaps that was enough writing for the evening. Placing his work away carefully, where snow couldn’t dampen its corners, he pulled on his leather jacket. Not the best for the weather, but he didn’t get a chance to pack up when he was forcibly hauled out of Kirkwall on a death march to this frigid rock. At least it was his favorite jacket. And it had nice runes. Thank you Sandal.

“Fucking mountains. Nothing but ice and death,” he grumbled to himself as he pulled his gloves on. He braced himself, but the wind when he opened the tent still made him clench his jaw. All his warmth seemed to evaporate from beneath the collar of his jacket and his ears immediately felt raw and miserable. He should find a scarf, or maybe a hat, from the supplies, but his dignity wouldn’t let him. He’d rather be fashionable than warm.

Cassandra stood like a statue in the training yard, watching Cullen work with the recruits. This was her fault really. She’d kidnapped Varric from Kirkwall and interrogated him for days. He made sure she knew it too. 

“Nice weather we’re having,” Varric quipped from behind her.

Cassandra didn’t even flinch, though she couldn’t have heard him approach. He was far too stealthy to be caught out like that, even in the snow. She turned her head and merely grunted her agreement with a slight furrow to her brow. Always suspicious, the Seeker.

“Couldn’t the Inquisition hole up on a beach somewhere? I hear Rivain is lovely this time of year,” Varric tried again.

Cassandra wasn’t having any of his good humor today. “You are free to go.”

“I will hold those words dear,” Varric laughed. “How I’ve longed to hear them from your lips.”

A small noise of disgust came from Cassandra’s throat before she stalked off to speak to Cullen. Varric wondered if she was staying warm through sheer stubbornness. Her armor seemed better suited to a lower elevation, less ice, more bodies on the ground. Maybe her wrath kept her warm.

Varric made his way into the warmth of the chantry. Appropriate to have taken over a chantry for the dubious organization of the Inquisition. The fires were banked low, but the sheer number of people inside helped warm it up considerably. The air was moist with evaporating puddles and the breath of huddled people in conversation. The camp had been fairly jolly after the last success on the Storm Coast. The Chargers had cheered things up with their irreverent celebrations and their get shit done kind of attitude. The Iron Bull and company were Varric’s kind of people - loud and drunk and bloody. It made him miss Kirkwall if he didn’t keep busy.

No pressure tags: @author-a-holmes | @silvanils | @noire-pandora | @knuttydraws | @raflesia65 | @retrowondergirl | @morganlefaye79 | @charlatron | @kittynomsdeplume | @kemvee | @a-shakespearean-in-paris | @jentrevellan | @isk4649 | @charmcity-jess | @cleverblackcat @dismalzelenka @sulky-valkyrie @dalish-rogue @pierogipie @anderstrevelyan @favorofthewater @anatidae-dragonage @midnightprelude @highwayphantoms @transandersrights @jellydishes @syrupwit @captaincadash @barbex @potatowitch @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul @glowing-blue-feathermage and anyone else who would like to share <3 Tag me so I can see what you're up to!!

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Blood Stains: Trans!Bo Sinclair x fem!reader

Warnings: Bo’s names is Belle, she is MtF, reader is hyperfeminine, blood, death, knives.

A/N: Had to write some trans!Bo, if y’all want a part 2 (that would be smut) Lemme know

The taste of sweet tea hits your tongue as you sip it from your straw. Louisiana was hot and you were hoping for no visitors today so you and Belle could spend more time together. But alas that would not happen as people decided that is was okay to pop a damn tire close to Ambrose.

You watch as Belle talks to the four men outside. One of them keeps glancing over at you but you pretend not to notice from your stool.

When the group finally enters only one of them follows her to the back to get the tire they were needing for the car. The man that was eyeing you comes up, you put a fake shy smile on your face. “Hi.”

He leans on the counter and you sip your tea, biting the straw playfully.

“Hey.”

You see a blush creeping up on his cheeks, and look away bashfully.

“You’re very gorgeous, you the receptionist here?”

You get an ick but try to not roll your eyes at the man. “No, I just came over to bother my friend. Happy I came though. Don’t think I would’ve met you otherwise. I saw you looking at me out there.”

“You were just too beautiful not to look at.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Belle and the man’s friend come out of the back with a tire.

“I can get your car fixed up if you guys wanna look around town for a bit.” Belle shrugs.

“I can stay you guys go ahead.” The man’s friend says, you look at the man and smile playfully.

“Let’s go for a walk.” You giggle and get up from your spot. On the way out you playfully tap Belle’s ass and look back at her seeing her blushing and trying hard not to look flustered. You wink, then turn around and take the guys hand walking in the opposite direction of the House of Wax, knowing the other two men would be on their way there soon. “What’s your name?” You ask, swinging your and his arm.

“Leo, what’s yours?”

You introduce yourself, and take him to an abandoned shop that Vincent is currently working on.

“So what were you guys doing all the way out here in Louisiana? I saw the plate, it said, Colorado.” You let go of his hand and look at random shitty books that you’d probably never read.

He’s close behind you, looking over your shoulder. You feel him shrug.

“Just on a trip is all. We weren’t really going anywhere just stopping at random places and taking pictures, camping, motels. No destination really.” Leo explains.

“Sounds fun! You guys camp last night?”

You already knew the answer with Belle’s from this morning. You hoped she didn’t do anything, turns out she popped the tires!

“Yeah, then we found out this morning, Jeremy’s tire got popped. Must’ve been glass in the road or some shit.” Leo scoffs. You nod your head. “So are you like bored of this town or something?”

You look over at him with your brows furrowed. “No, why?”

“Just wondering. Didn’t know if maybe you wanted to come with us.” Leo shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets and looking out the shop window back and forth.

“Awh, that’s so sweet. Already thinking about me. We only just met. I really would like to but wouldn’t your friends think it’s weird? Having a random girl in the van with you guys?” You finally set the book down after just skimming sloppily over the words, you walk up to the brunette. “I mean I’d really like to.” You walk around him and wrap your arms around him.

“You should. You seem so nice and I bet you’ve been stuck here your whole like haven’t you?”

No, you haven’t. You’ve only been here for a year actually.

“Yes! I’d love to see the country too! I’ve only ever read about all those big land marks and stuff. I’d love to see some, especially with you!” You smile up at Leo. He’s blushing profusely.

“I know it sounds crazy, but you might be my soulmate.” He says. You bite your lip.

“I think you might be mine too.”

Leo leans down and kisses you.

You two let go then. “We should get back to the shop. I’ll have to tell Belle what’s happening! She’ll be so excited for me!” You take his hand and drag him out into the street.

Leo holds your hand, you take this moment with your other hand and pull out your knife. You wait a few more steps before turning and stabbing him in the arm, you pull out the knife as he lets out a scream you’re sure Belle and Jeremy heard too. Leo pushes you off him and starts running towards the gas station.

You huff and follow after him, having a harder time in your Mary Janes than you usually do.

Once you’re close enough you make a jump for Leo, tripping him. Your knees scrape on the concrete but you don’t care. You crawl on top of his and stab his chest multiple times. Leo tried pushing you off of him but you force yourself down harder.

Belle can be seen from the corner your your eye.

“Help me! Belle!” Leo sobs, Belle smirks down at him and he realizes how doomed he truly is. You stab the knife through his throat and take it out, watching as he coughs up blood, spraying it on your face and clothes. You get up, stepping on Leo’s body to get over to Belle.

She has less blood on her than you. Her cap is off and she runs her fingers through her hair before taking your face in his hands, she wipes the blood with her thumb.

“Yer so gorgeous like this bunny.”

You smile, for the first time today you’re actually flustered. You lean in to kiss her gently. “Did I do a good job?” You ask when you two part. Belle nods.

“Sure did. Just.. less stab wounds next time. Vince is gonna be mad at the amount of repairing he’s gonna have to do.”

You nod your head. “Sorry, got excited.”

“Yeah? Well yer makin’ me excited. Get yer ass downstairs so I can fuck you.” This time Belle smacks your ass, you laugh and look down realizing just how bloody your cream dress is.

“Can we get me a new dress after this?” You ask.

“Anything for my bunny.”

[bates--boy]

Peter jumped, his body reacting before his mind had even caught on to what was triggering his fight or flight instincts. His vision tunneled when he blinked, the image of Andy pinning him to the bed fading into a pinprick of light before winking away. He was sitting at the table in the studio's kitchen, staring at a meal wrapped in fancy brown wax paper, and an extra large cup brandishing a separate restaurant's logo with whipped cream pushing through the domed top.

And beyond that, Peter watched Mike sit in a chair on the other side. He started taking his own meal out of the bag, and paused when he caught Peter staring at him. He nodded at the food that sat in front of Peter, particularly the large drink. "Root beer float, right?"

"I, uh..." Peter blinked again, and scrunched his brows as he tried to think when he had asked for a root beer float, or for any of this.

"S'your favorite drink, ain't it?"

"...Yeah...?" Peter glanced at the food once more; what would have been an appetizing scent that could make a man drool, hearty and full of homey spices and herbs, was met with a stubborn nothingness. "I didn't order anything."

Mike ripped open his wax wrapper and tucked into the grilled fish and roasted potatoes. "I know, 'cause you haven't been eating all week. Have you?"

Peter briefly thought about lying, meeting the question, well, challenge, in Mike's voice with the defenses up, but Mike cut in those thoughts to add, "You're even skinnier than ever, and you're pale as hell. So don't lie," and that was the end of the fun. Instead, Peter moved the large cup of root beer float closer and stabbed the straw into the fizzing drink. He stirred it and eyed the slow trickle of melted cream down the plastic. "'cause my stomach's been hurting, Mike. Can't keep anything down."

Mike watched Peter as he slowed his chewing. "Did you see a doctor for it?"

"Yes, I did. Everything's normal, so..." Peter shrugged, because that was all he could offer as an explanation. No ulcer was found on the MRIs, no tumors. No blood in the stool or abnormally low microbiome, either. Everything was normal, but when Peter glanced at the mysteriously wrapped shape in front of him, he had to hold back a gag, his guts protesting the thought of food.

"Are you gonna see a specialist, then?"

Will you get off my back? Peter scowled at the table to ignore the stare Mike was boring into him. "I don't know, maybe? I don't see why I should if there's nothing."

"Because," Mike said, "we don't want to see you pass out from starving yourself. If you're sick, you need to get help."

"Like I said, man, it's nothing."

"It's not nothing, or you wouldn't be like this!" Mike set down his plastic fork down, shoved his food aside, and crossed his arms on the table. He leaned in. "Peter, please, for fuck's sake, be honest with me for once: are you okay?"

Peter glared at his cup, his hand stirring the straw stilled. He thought of saying "Yes", a firm, resounding yes that he hoped would be convincing enough to squash this shit once and for all. But when he looked back up, the hardness and frustration he expected to find in Mike's eyes weren't there. The gaze was too soft, too tired, too open, too...

Ugh, oh god, paternal.

And Peter realized that he was going to have to give Mike something to get him off his case. He took a breath, let it out slowly, and said, "I am, sort of. I mean..." he shrugged. "I'm hardly getting sleep, and I've been taking on a lot of projects."

Mike slowly shook his head. "And how is that different from before?"

"It's... now starting to catch up to me...?"

Mike unfolded his arms and leaned back in his chair. He rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. "God, Peter..."

"I don't know what you want from me! I said I'm fine, so I'm fine!"

"Whatever..."

The kitchen fell into silence, with only the chatter of their crew carrying through the wall. Peter watched Mike rub a hand down his face and tried to not feel bad.

Mike let his hand fall to the table. "Do you need a vacat--"

"No."

"Can you at least think about going on vacation? Or take care of yourself somehow? We don't need you having another episode on us."

Incredible how much it took for Peter to not pop the top off his float and dump the cold mess all over Mike's lap. Instead, he lowered his hardened glare to the table again, curling into himself as the memories bombarded him -- the world flashing white, the glimpses of cracked glass and broken skin and bleeding palms. Heat flushed up his neck to his face, and as his fingernails dug into his palm, he said, "Oh, don't worry, man, I'll pay for any more windows I break when I throw my tantrums."

"What?"

Despite being startled by the flash of fury in Peter's eyes when he glanced up, Mike's narrowed gaze and slacked jaw remained. He stayed that way for too long a time, long enough for Peter to realize that this man genuinely did not know what Peter was talking about, and now Peter was forced to feel embarrassed and the heat on his face taking on a new, shameful itch.

Mike blinked and threw up his hands. "Man, I don't give a fuck about the windows! I'm worried about you. Just you."

"Well, don't be!"

"How can I not be, Peter?" Mike scoffed and threw his hands out. "With you moping around, hardly present, looking sick and--"

"Stop, Mike!"

Mike stared at Peter, his lips hanging partly open.

"Just stop."

Another brick placed on the wall as the silence stretched, Mike pursing his lips as he searched for something to say. He then shrugged and threw up his hands once more. "Fine, fuck it." He picked up his fork and stabbed into a potato piece, shoveling it into his mouth and took his fury out into his chewing. Peter refused to feel bad, crushed the shame right under his heel as he played with the straw again.

"...Since you're good and all," Mike finally said, "then you don't mind coming with me to my brother's wedding."

Peter quickly assessed his options: say no -- prolong the conversation by trying to convince Mike to take anyone else, even Anaiis's mother, or get brow-beaten until Mike leaves in a huff and the mood of the day gets fouled. Say yes, which Peter did not want to do -- conversation may die sooner, but then he'd have to plan for dealing with a lot of people he didn't even know when, lately, he'd much prefer to just stay in bed or on the couch.

...Dr. Stieg would want him to go, though.

"Alright," Peter said. "I'll go."

Mike had a smile on his face that Peter very much would like to throw his drink on: relieved, soft. And victorious. "Alright, cool. I'll send you the details later. Now, eat up, we gotta get back to the paperwork."

Paperwork? Peter blinked as he watched Mike tear the fish apart with his fork. Damn, I really have been out of it.

[bronze-bell]

Aesop had moved the hat in the meantime, onto the nightstand, to obstruct Victor as little as possible. It wasn't immediately obvious to Frederick that Victor's vision had grown so blurry, but the visible signs of relaxation were telling of at least something. As Victor curled up, two hands rested on Victor's head, a reassurance as both others waited for the postman's eyes to close. Even if the two weren't physically here the next morning, hopefully the hazy memory of the night would be some comfort. Hopefully the knowledge of having another to confide in would help.

A wave of stillness washed over the group, waiting as Victor's breathing slowed and both Aesop and Frederick unsure if they should move until they knew Victor was fully asleep. Once the two slowly moved their hands away, the two came across some conundrums. For one, they had to get out, and as Frederick knew, that door was not locked in the slightest right now. And if either of them locked it from the inside, they'd be here all night. Aesop held a finger up, as if telling Frederick to wait, before reaching into the bag and removing one of the several door keys. A gesture made towards the letterbox into Victor's room told Frederick the plan, and he would whisper the other locations that he noticed, which he was very glad Aesop was in charge of taking. Even as he noticed Aesop glide his hand far too easily to take the keys Victor kept on his person, watched the hesitation for just a few seconds before removal, an expression of concern in the embalmer's brows.

Once the two had checked that they had as many keys as locks, the two had to fumble with each one to figure out which one would go where, sending each key into the letterbox with a soft metallic sound once it had successfully done its job. It was like some odd reverse robbery. Finally, all the keys were used, all the locks turned. Upon confirming a second time that they left no key behind, the two placed themselves at a distance, Frederick asking a hushed, "...So how much do you... know?"

"I can't say I know any reasons for it all, but... a few things." Aesop replied, trying to run over what he had seen and how it might connect to Victor's behavior as of just now. "He's scared of being seen as... imperfect, isn't he? Not to mention just how much I imagine he's seen..."

Frederick had to do a double take hearing that last sentence. His voice turned resigned, worried. "...you have no idea how correct you are." A pause, as he wondered how much he could disclose, while saying as little as possible at the same time. "I... can't say how, for his sake, but... if or when you do find out, don't tell a soul. For his sake more than yours."

...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Resting atop the keys the following morning is a letter, gray paper with a simple border, a yellow wax seal depicting a rose holding the letter shut. The handwriting is in a careful hand, the script written as if it were meant for this page with how it flows.)

To Victor Grantz:

I hope my appearance last night was not too stressful. I had my own late night duties, and happened to pass by. I did... freeze, when Frederick noticed me. With what was happening, I couldn't help but get somewhat curious. But we all know what that does to the cat, now, don't we?

As for the keys... we didn't know how else to make sure your door was locked through the night. Frederick seemed particularly concerned about this matter. I never got around to asking him why he found this matter so important, but with how many locks you have, maybe that has something to do with it. (Did we get them all?)

Frederick is... wary of telling me exactly what he's heard, but I've been informed you two have been in correspondence for a while. If last night was anything to go by, he's treating you with quite the care. I... aspire wish to do the same.

A. Carl

P.S. Those scars tell stories, I imagine. Perhaps those best kept to the grave.

Victor hadn't moved from his bed for quite a while after waking up, attempts to go back to dreaming thoroughly ruined by having to struggle against his own internal clock screaming at him to just wake up and start working already! His answer to that was no, initially, and he knew that the letters would get delivered by the manor's strangeness if he was not there for them, but the routine urge eventually got the best of him. As it always has, as it always will.

This, in turn, meant that he did not notice the letter until the window for being horribly unprofessionally late with his delivery must have been and gone hours ago. He nearly dives for it, not wanting to waste even more time, but the blood rushing from his head after snapping upright makes him really reconsider the sharp movement.

Instead, he walks over to it with cheerful, practiced steps to protect a facade that collapses immediately upon registering the fact that he has in fact been sent the letter, instead of it being some misplaced mail. Somehow, his late response now feels even worse.

Pocketing the keys left under the envelope in all the right slots of his outfit (though he should probably change their locations soon), he walks back to his bed with a more genuine rush of excitement, delicately opening the envelope despite his hands starting to shake from the pressure of the fact this might have some... Harsher words in store for him.

His sleepy, misplaced hope goes strangely unpunished, however, and he finds himself staring at the words slightly awestruck as they sink into his brain. He'll surely process it all in a moment, but first and foremost the letter is pretty.

It would be hard to even describe to someone who hasn't seen hundreds of them, but there's a certain warmth within the writing itself that shines through only with a poet's hand, or a loved one's, or apparently those belonging to Aesop Carl. The thing that has him so caught up in it though, is that it's all for him. All for his greedy eyes, and racing mind, and melting heart.

He wipes his eyes to stop his oncoming tears that threaten to ruin the paper, and wastes absolutely no time with his response.

[Dearest Aesop Carl,

It was quite honestly lovely to see you last night. It did startle me a little at the time, but out of anyone here, I am so glad it was you.

I am curious enough myself, do not worry. It seems that neither of you had taken a look into anything in here while I was asleep, which I am very grateful for. Thank you very much for locking the door for me, yes, all of them are here it would have made me anxious if it was unlocked throughout the night. Although I suppose you probably knew this already, you read me so easily it's like you're inside of my head...

I am glad that Frederick is so eager to keep my secrets, and I hope you will do the same for them. You seem to treat everyone with the utmost delicacy as well, so I do not have any doubts as of now that I can trust you, especially with your final point of the letter. You're so gentle with everything you touch, please take care of me the same w

Please be my friend.

Sincerely, Postman.

Ps: extremely sorry for the late response I got distracted by Wick]

Flowery envelope, soft paper, golden rose seal to match this one, and it's off from his workstation to Aesop's room, directly opposite his own. He presents the letter immediately when Aesop greets him, before walking back into his room and sitting behind the door in anticipation of the next letter delivered directly into his heart.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...Jensen Washing Baby

Pairing: Jensen x reader

______

“Hey good lookin’,” you said, carrying two glasses of lemonade out to the driveway. Jensen dropped his soapy mitt on the ground and walked over, gulping down a glass before taking the other one, drinking more slowly but polishing most of it off. 

“Hi,” he said with a pant, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Was that for you?”

“I’ll get more,” you said, sipping on the straw and finishing what he’d left behind. You set the glasses by the door, following him back over to the car. “How’s it going out here?”

“Got the wheels left and then gonna wax her. I wouldn’t mind seeing someone in a bikini type outfit helping me out,” he said.

“I don’t think Jared’s got the chest to pull that off,” you said, getting a good eye roll out of him. “Jared, if you keep riding by on your bike I’m gonna put you to work around here!”

Jensen turned around and saw Jared duck back down behind the gate at the end of the drive, Jensen shaking his head.

“What are you doing, dork?” laughed Jensen.

“I’m waiting for you to finish washing her so we can take her for a drive!” he said as he popped up.

“She’s been home like four hours. You have your own genius!” you said, Jared punching in a code and riding up the driveway, stopping by the tail end of the car. 

“Also, we haven’t got plates or registration or insurance yet,” said Jensen.

“One lap around the neighborhood. No one would know,” he said. Jensen looked over his shoulder at you, that little look in his eye.

“Fine. Once around the block and if we get pulled over, I know nothing,” you said. They were both quickly in the car and Jensen turned her on, immediately frowning. “She has no gas, boys.”

“Ugh. Tomorrow,” said Jensen. You got back out, Jared already back on his bike. “What? You only see me for my car now?”

“I have my own car chores I’m avoiding thank you very much. Your two butts over for dinner? Eight?” he asked.

“Sounds good,” you said. Jared took off and Jensen picked up his soapy mitt again, squatting down by one of the wheels. “I don’t recall keeping her looking brand new one of the contingencies for you getting Baby.”

“I want my girl looking nice for when she takes your spot in the garage,” he teased.

“You don’t get all three spots mister,” you said, picking up the hose. 

“You gonna make me?” he asked. You sprayed some more water in the bucket and grabbed another mitt, going to the back wheel. “I’ll leave my SUV out. Baby stays in a garage was a real contingency I think.”

“That, you let them use her if you guys ever did something more and what was the last one?” you asked. “I know there were three.”

“I think it was treat her as well as Dean does. You know, Dean is very particular about who he lets drive…” he said as you picked up the hose again. “I’m sweating my ass off, you think that’s a deterrent?”

“Oh you like misbehaving too much,” you said, squirting some water near him. “Whoops.”

“I was gonna take you on our first official Baby date night too,” he said.

“What?” you asked. 

“Package from DMV came today. I got plates, registration, added her to the insurance already. Want to go have our own Baby date?”

“Yes please,” you said. “Maybe we should skip the waxing if we’re gonna be going somewhere with her soon?”

“Nah. She could do with a coat. I’ll take off my shirt if you want though?” he said.

“Well, when you put it like that,” you said. He chuckled and you started to work on the wheel, standing to go do the other after a few minutes. You peeked inside the car, feeling him behind you.

“What?” he asked, wiping off his brow.

“Nothing. Glad she’s with somebody that’s gonna take her on drives and dates, not stick her in some warehouse forever,” you said.

“I start talking like that, you got full permission to smack me upside the the head. Come on, let’s finish up so we can get to waxing. You were gonna take off your shirt, weren’t you?”

“Always a boy,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m gonna slip into that bikini and I’ll be right back to help.”

“Don’t take too long, sweetheart. Baby’s waitin’.”

________

[dccomicsimagines]

A Long Day - Jason Todd x Reader

Requested by Anon - Can you make a oneshot or hc on Arkhamverse!Jay where he comes home real beat up and tired and hurt so (wife)reader has give him a bath or else there'll be blood everywhere and just like 2 cups of fluff and a dash of angst? (Also, not NSFW)ak

***

His entire body felt like an open wound with salt rubbed into it for good measure. A deep, primal groan came from deep in his chest as he heaved himself through the window of the apartment and crashed onto the floor. Soft thumps came from the ceiling. Jason sighed. The upstairs neighbors were at it again. Like rabbits. He rolled over to glare up at the ceiling.

"Jason." An angel appeared in his vision, looking down at him. Their brow furrowed. "Are you alright?" The angel disappeared and Jason heard the window shut tightly. The lock he installed clicked firmly.

"Just a little...sore." He pulled down his hood and took off his helmet. His stomach twisted at the thought of showing his face, but he forced himself to relax. The feeling never went away, no matter how many years had passed.

"Yes, this looks like a little." You appeared over him again. That little smile pulled at your lips. Jason's heart skipped a beat. How did he deserve someone like you? "You got blood on the carpet again."

Jason moaned, pushing himself to sit up. "Sorry, sweetheart. I'll clean it up." He shrugged off his leather jacket. You kneeled down to help him wiggle out of the arms.

You hummed. "I think a bath is an order. You're not going into our bed like this." Jason undid his belt and handed you his guns. You checked the safety and moved to put them away. "Can you get to the bathroom on your own? I'll prep the bath."

"I'll be fine." He stripped where he was to avoid getting dirt, blood, and grime everywhere else. In only his boxers, he picked up his suit and took it the bathroom. He froze at the sight of you kneeling beside the bathtub. Your hand was in the water, testing it.

You turned to look at him. "Jay? You okay?" The love in your eyes hit him like a ton of bricks. How could he still be so surprised? It's been years. The J burned into his cheek stun like it always did when he remembered it was there. How could you love him when he was a messed up, tortured man?

"Fine." He dropped his suit and jacket on the floor before he covered himself up with them. Part of him wanted to hide his scars from you. The shame was still there, even with the reassurance you had already seen every scar he had. You nodded, adding bubbles and salts to the water.

"I have to say. I'm relieved to see most of the blood isn't yours." You eyed him. "You busted your knuckles again, huh?" You got to your feet and grabbed the first aid kit. "May I?" You held out your hand carefully.

Jason blinked, confused. He realized he had been staring at you the entire time. "Oh, yeah. Thanks, sweetheart. I knew I married you for some reason."

Your laughter was music to his ears. "I knew it." You winked at him before you tended to his knuckles.

He flinched, hissing when you dapped the cut on his knuckle with alcohol. "I'm surprised you are still awake. I thought you would have went to bed."

"It's hard to sleep knowing about...well...you know." You bit your lip, not meeting his eye.

"(Y/N), you don't have to worry. It won't get bad this time. I have it covered." He pulled his hand away from you and hugged you. "There won't be another gang war. I'm stopping it."

"Jay, I know you're working on it, but you're only one person." You rested your cheek against his bare shoulder.

"One incredibly awesome person." Jason tightened his arms around you. "We'll be fine. Gotham will be fine." His eyes widened as tub was almost full. He jumped away from you to turn off the water.

You flinched at his sudden movement. "Oh." You laughed in relief. "I thought it was another rat."

“Another rat?” Jason blinked. “Did you find another one?” 

“No, but when you see one, you kinda expect another.” You shivered. “Maybe the landlord actually took care of it?”

“Not likely. I’ll have another talk with him.” Jason slid off his boxers and climbed into the bath. The water was so warm, melting the soreness from his muscles like wax from a candle. 

You smiled at the sight, picking up his suit. “I’ll rinse this off. Are you hungry? I can make you something quick.” 

“Anything is fine, sweetheart.” Jason closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He heard you leave. The walls of the apartment were thin. If he listened carefully, he could follow your movements throughout.

Another series of thumps came from the ceiling. Jason opened his eyes at glare up at it. “I should get us a new place, a better place without rats or noisy neighbors,” he mumbled to himself. 

He started to wash himself, wincing as his muscles complained at having to move. Just when he dunked his head under the water to wash his hair, you came in with a freshly made omelet and a glass of milk. 

“That smells delicious,” Jason said, sniffing the air once he surfaced. You laughed, kneeling down by the side of the tub. You wet your hands and shampooed his hair for him. 

“I need to go shopping soon. We’re almost out of everything.” You kissed his cheek. He closed his eyes, relaxing completely in your hands. 

Jason moaned. “I’ll go with you.” 

“Of course you will.” Your hands pulled away. “Dunk again.” Jason went under the water and rinsed out his hair. He surfaced with a gasp and happily took the plate when you offered it to him. “Eat up. I have your suit hanging to dry in the kitchen. Don’t worry. It’s out of view of the window.” 

Jason hummed, inhaling down the omelet like it was the only food he saw in months. It reminded him the first meal he had after he had escaped from the Joker. He had sat down in a diner, using the twenty bucks he stole to pay for a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast. It was the best food he ever remembered having until you cooked for him that is. “Good. Don’t want the neighbors to have a show.” 

You sat on the edge of the tub, watching him eat with a smile. Jason met your eye. He smirked before offering you a bite. You shook your head. “I’m good, honey. You eat.” 

“Are you sure?” Jason waved the bite in your face. He winked at you. “Come on.” 

You sighed and opened your mouth to let him feed you. The two of you finished off the omelet, enjoying each other in silent company.  After the plate was empty and Jason had downed the glass of milk, you left with the dishes. 

The water was getting cold. Jason sighed, stretching his arms until they cracked and slowly got out of the bath. He unplugged the tub and wrapped himself up in the pink towel. Why did he let you buy pink towels? Jason chuckled. Right, it was because they were on sale. 

You were in the bedroom when he entered. Jason’s skin tingled as he watched you change into the pajamas he had bought you for your birthday last year. He enjoyed the sight, but his body was too tired to do anything about it.

“I love you.” Jason came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist to press his chest against your back. You laughed sweetly, music to his ears. 

“I love you too.” You turned your head to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Are you ready for bed?” 

Jason smiled, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Only if you are.” 

You hummed, giggling before you pulled away. “You’re not though, unless you want to sleep with only the towel around your waist tonight.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Jason closed his eyes. “Are you okay with it?” 

“I suppose.” You took his hand, leading him over to the bed and tucked him in. Jason sighed deeply. You crawled in next to him and curled into his side.

Jason felt all his stress and pain fade away as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. “I love you.” He chuckled. “I think I should take you on vacation. We haven’t taken one since we eloped.” 

You hummed. Your eyes were closed, your body going limp. “Whatever you want, Jay.” Your hand moved to rest on his chest, just over his heart. Jason smiled and closed his eyes. 

The sounds of the city were quiet for this time of night. He couldn’t imagine sleeping without it, just like he couldn’t imagine sleeping without you. The nightmares he used to get haven’t caught up to him in years. You chased them away. Jason opened his eyes to look at you. “You make my life better. You make me better.” He kissed the top of your head gently.

“Me too.” You mumbled, flinging your leg over his hips. “Go to sleep, Jay.” 

Jason sighed. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

[alwaysmarveling]

Balloons

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Warnings: cursing, arguing, and Clint (since he seems to be a sensitive topic for some of you)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Natasha surprises you with balloons. What do you get for her in return?

A/N: It can get a little confusing, so just for clarification, a single dash (-) indicates a flashback, and three dashes (---) means a skip forward in time. Also, this takes place during the Snap.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a couple of days, okay?” Natasha barely looked up from her computer screen, but she heard your murmurs, going so far as to lean into your touch as you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

If you didn’t love her, you would’ve scrunched your nose, judged her for what must’ve been days without taking a shower. Instead, your brow furrowed slightly as you leaned over her, allowing your arms to drape over her torso, your hands clasping together at the center of her chest.

“Take care of yourself, okay? No more peanut butter sandwiches.” That elicited a groan from your wife. Her eyes remained on the monitor in front of her, but she still sunk into your embrace, her body almost on autopilot once she felt the familiar contact. “Promise me, Nat. I’ve left enough meals for the next two weeks in the fridge. All you have to do is microwave them.” A low sound left her mouth—maybe it was an “okay” or an “alright,” you really couldn’t tell—but you knew that was all you were getting from her at the moment. So, with a sigh, you brushed a quick kiss to her cheek and pushed yourself to stand straight.

“I love you, Nat.” It was only then that she turned around, finally allowing you to see the sparkle in her eyes that, more so now than ever, she reserved only for you.

“I love you too, malysh. Be safe. And call me if you need anything.”

“So you’re saying I can call and ask for you?” The redhead chuckled, leaning out of her chair to grab you by the hands. Once you were standing in between her legs, one of her hands trailed up to your cheek before pulling you down to kiss her.

“Anytime, malyshka, anytime,” she murmured, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, yeah?” Natasha nodded at you. The last thing you saw as you walked out the door was her characteristic smirk, the sly wave of her slender fingers, and the way her body was slumped against the chair, another sign that betrayed just how long she had gone without sleep. You had to succeed at this, for her.

---

It was pouring when you found him. You don’t think you would’ve seen him if it weren’t for the neon signs, their reflections against the growing number of puddles lighting up the street. But you didn’t need to see him to find him; the yelling and clashing of swords were enough to tell you where he was.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was gruff. It was clear he didn’t want to see you.

“I’m here to bring someone back.” He had yet to turn around, and yet you could still hear him scoff despite his turned back and the patter of rain.

“Then keep looking.” You rolled your eyes before clearing your throat and straightening up. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to see your growing assertion, but you’d make sure he heard it.

“I’m here to bring you back.”

“Don’t you have a wife to be getting back to?” You almost flinched at his words.

“How funny, I wasn’t sure if you even knew we got married.” Yes, Clint was your friend, but you didn’t forget the way Nat’s eyes shined with hurt when she looked in the crowd at her wedding and noticed that her best friend wasn’t there. It was just another thing that made her doubt what she was doing, wonder if she was a monster for moving on while everyone else suffered. You almost lost her that day, having to get Steve to pause the ceremony as you took her off to the side, desperate to make her stay.

-

“Nat, every day I wake up I think of all the people that we lost, just like that. But you’re still here, and I can’t lose you too. And if wanting to hold onto the one good thing I have left in the world makes me a monster, then-” She had pulled you close, kissed you through the tears that ran down her cheeks.

“You could never be a monster, my love.” Your foreheads pressed together as she whispered, allowing you to see the crystal droplets, physical evidence of the internal struggle she felt every day.

“And neither can you. Marry me?” She simply nodded, and you thought you couldn’t have been happier, more relieved.

But she proved you wrong only minutes later when she read her vows out to you, her eyes only leaving the crumpled paper to look at you, to make sure you were still there, as she tried to make her true feelings known. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper—you were sure you were the only one who could hear her, but that was more than okay with you—as she told you, “You told me I’m the only good thing you have left in the world, but you are my world. If I lose you, I’ve lost the world. It doesn’t matter how many other planets there are, how many galaxies exist outside of our own. There’s nothing after you.”

You pulled her into a searing kiss, not caring that Steve had yet to tell you to kiss your bride.

You were married. You were hers, and she was yours.

-

And he missed it. Clint missed one of the most important days in his best friend’s life. He still hadn’t responded when you spoke up again. You were bringing him back no matter what. Because she needed you to.

You got him to come back with you. You honestly weren’t too sure how you’d done it; maybe he was just too tired to argue anymore. But it didn’t matter because the two of you were getting in a Quinjet and going back to Natasha.

It took less than twenty minutes for you guys to be off in the air. You set the aircraft on autopilot and left the seat, heading back to put away your things.

“I will admit, I thought we’d be moving a little faster.” Your head cocked to the side at Clint’s words, not quite understanding what he meant.

“Trust me, we’re going as fast as we can. We should be there in a couple of hours.” You were almost out of earshot when he spoke again, but his words caught your attention as if he had screamed them at you.

“What’d you get her for the anniversary?”

“Wha- what do you mean? What’s today’s date?” And as Clint sighed with a shake of his head, you felt your heart sinking in your chest. He didn’t need to answer. You thought back to yesterday’s phone call and you knew exactly where you’d messed up.

-

“Hello? Nat? What are you doing awake? It’s late, you should be asleep.” There was a pause over the phone, and at first, you thought she’d hung up.

“I, um, I just wanted to check in on you.” It wasn’t so much the fact that she called or her words as it was her dejected tone that grabbed your attention, immediately made you concerned.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she quickly reassured you. “Just… you sure you’re not forgetting anything?” You scanned the supplies you’d laid out on the dresser. A weapon or two, a couple of toiletries, only the necessities. But nothing was missing.

“No, I think I have everything. Why? Did you see something at home?” Another pause. And, still, you chalked it up to bad connection, or maybe the fact that it was late for her, she must’ve been tired.

“No, you didn’t leave anything at home.” You took one last glance at your things before nodding and launching into your plan for how you were going to get Clint back. She wasn’t as excited as you thought she would’ve been, but you never caught it. Even when you ended the call and all she gave you was a quiet goodbye, you never caught it.

-

You entered the compound with a crash, scrambling to find Natasha. It was nighttime when you got back, the lights automatically turning on one by one as you ran through each of the rooms, each of them full of furniture but devoid of life.

First, you reached the kitchen. Natasha hadn’t put away the candles, the wicks drowning in wax as if nobody had bothered to blow them out. One plate of food—which was much fancier than any of the meals you had left for Nat in the fridge—lay untouched on the counter, and you knew that, if you dared to open the fridge, there’d be another plate waiting for you.

Next, you made your way into the living room. A vase of roses sat on the coffee table, but one of them was already wilted, a petal threatening to fall off if you so much as looked at it for too long. A small bunch of heart balloons hovered in the corner. The shadows fell on them in just the right way it seemed, with them looking more like they were threatening to chase after you rather than welcome you home.

You went to your bedroom next. You doubted she would’ve been in there, but some small part of you hoped that you and Clint were wrong; you hadn’t actually missed anything, and Natasha somehow pulled herself away from her work to grab a few hours of sleep. But it wasn’t your wife on the bed. Instead, an unfamiliar yet friendly-looking teddy bear sat on the comforter, the card next to it standing upright. And though every part of you yelled at you not to open it, you did.

It was storebought, but that wasn’t what affected you. What finally broke the dam, made the tears stream down your cheeks, was the brief message she’d written on the inside.

“I know I haven’t been the best wife lately, but you are still my world. The sun, moon, stars, it’s all you, malyshka. It always will be. Happy anniversary.”

It was only then that you set off for the one place you were sure Natasha would be.

---

The smell hit you before you even entered her office. Then, you heard the somewhat incoherent grumbles, each word charged with more anger and sorrow than the last. And so it was more to your horror than surprise when you found her still at her desk, her head in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other.

“Natty…” A flash of red filled your vision as her head whipped up to see you, but you weren’t sure if the color came from her cheeks or her hair.

“Oh, so you still remember my name?”

“Natty, please, I’m so sorry. I was so hun-” At first, your wife seemed slightly surprised, as if she wasn’t expecting you to apologize. Or maybe she wasn’t expecting you to know what you were apologizing for.

“Don’t you dare call me that right now, Y/N.” If her order didn’t sting, her use of your actual name definitely did. But you pushed away those feelings; right now, it was about her, the way it should’ve been about her yesterday.

“Natasha, let me explain. I was so focused on Clint, on the things we had to get done here. The dates really meant nothing to me.” Her flinches were delayed, slightly sluggish, but they nevertheless hurt to see.

“So the date of our wedding means nothing to you? I got you balloons, Y/N, I got you fucking balloons.” You flinched, but it wasn’t at the sound of the vodka bottle slamming down on the desk or at her words. It was at the words she’d told you on your six month anniversary of dating, the day she’d surprised you with a dinner at a three Michelin star restaurant and a night in a five-star hotel, a luxury you’d never experienced before and never thought you’d have in your life, let alone while you were on the run from the US federal government. But, you’d had to remind yourself as Natasha pulled you into the hotel room with a giggle, this was the world’s best spy you were dating. Of course, if anyone was capable of pulling this off, it was her. 

-

“What are those?” you’d gasped, the glint of the dim lamplight on the mylar catching your attention.

“I got you balloons,” she’d chuckled as she pulled you into her embrace. “I love you so fucking much that I got you balloons. God, I’m such a sap.” You met her lips in a sweet kiss before pulling her closer, if that was even possible.

“You’re my sap.” Nat pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth, loving the way it curved upwards in a grin. Loving the fact that she made it do that.

“Well, duh, you think I’m going to go out and get balloons for Tony?” You simply giggled, the champagne the two of you had enjoyed earlier that evening only strengthening the joy that bubbled in you. “No. Never. Only for you, detka.” She had punctuated each sentence with a kiss, each one being on a different spot on your face.

“You got me balloons,” you finally whispered, meeting her eyes.

“I got you balloons,” the blonde agreed. You loved the way the green orbs captured your own gaze; you could bathe in the love they held for you.

-

But at this moment, you felt yourself drowning in the sorrow filling her eyes, the fact that she wasn’t crying being one piece of dignity you couldn’t maintain no matter how hard you tried.

“Nat,” you slowly stepped closer to her, your footsteps being the only sound filling the room during the pause. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant I barely processed what day it was at all. The only thing I was focusing on was getting Clint back.” A small part of you knew that Natasha was far too hurt and drunk to be reasoned with at the moment, but you still tried. And the rejection hurt just as much as if you hadn’t been expecting it.

“You don’t love me.” You were by her side in an instant, quick to refute her point.

“That’s not true at a-”

“You don’t love me! Just admit it, Y/N. You don’t love me.”

“Natasha, please-” Your vision was so clouded by tears you could barely make out your surroundings, but the anguish on your wife’s face was somehow clearer than it had been all night.

“You only love me when it benefits you! God, how was I so foolish to believe you could ever love me back in the same way I love you?” And though you tried to stop her, pleaded with her to just listen to you for a second, she never even hesitated for a second, the remaining vodka threatening to spill out out of the bottle with how she swung it in the air. Her insecurities from your relationship, the ones you had spent night after night reassuring her of, were coming out in full force, each word thrown out of her mouth being another punch to your gut.

But it was her last sentence that made you almost double over in pain; the way she looked at you, eyes glassy and her lower lip wobbling, the way she spoke, her voice airy and broken, the way her face was contorted, as if something had broken inside of her. Maybe something had.

“Did I really make you feel safe, or did I just help you not to feel alone?”

-

You knew she was standing outside of your room well before she knocked. Well, you knew someone was standing outside of your room.

Sure, you weren’t expecting the normally-closed off assassin to be the one who entered when you let out a measly “come in,” but you were too wrapped up in your grief to care.

“Wanda made dinner.”

“I don’t want it.” You didn’t have to turn your head to know how she was standing, feet shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over her chest. And maybe, if you cared, you would’ve been scared, but for all you were concerned she could come running full speed at you with widow’s bites in her hand and you wouldn’t even flinch. Maybe you’d welcome it.

“It’s not a negotiation. You’re coming to dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’m not hungry.” At first, Natasha didn’t respond. You thought you were safe. She’d turn around, close the door behind her, and you’d be alone once again, the way you should’ve been. The way you always should be. But instead, you heard her approaching footsteps and felt the mattress sink as she perched herself on the edge of your bed.

“You deserve to eat, Y/N. Just because you made a mistake-”

“A mistake is forgetting your phone at home, Nat. I got people killed. I deserve to die.” Natasha paused for a moment, and you felt the weight of her hand as she rested it on your ankle.

“You’re not the first of us to do that. Do you think we deserve to die too?” Anger and frustration swelled in your chest at her words. Of course they didn’t deserve to die; how could you agree to that? But she didn’t understand, you were different because you were you.

You hated the way she trapped you with simple logic, wanting to scream and yell for her to get out. But she was the woman of your dreams, so you stayed silent. She’d leave eventually. They all did. Or maybe you just made them leave, who knows?

But she was there 5 minutes later, 10 minutes later, 15. Half an hour passed and she was still sitting there, her posture just as perfect as when she first sat down.

Another half an hour passed before Natasha sighed, the corner of the mattress lifting. But she didn’t leave the room. Instead, she rounded the bed and sat down next to you, hands folded in her lap and her back against the headboard.

“You’re not going to leave?” you finally asked.

“No.”

“Why?” You hated the way it came out cracked and broken. You were the one who messed up; why were you also the one falling apart?

“Because you deserve to be forgiven. And you don’t deserve to be alone. I’ll stay until you realize that.” It amazed you how she said it so matter-of-factly, how she said it as if it was painfully obvious.

“Then it looks like you’re going to be staying the night.”

“Good thing I wore my pajamas.” It wasn’t until she said that that you finally turned around to look at her. Why was she wearing her pajamas?

“You knew I wasn’t coming out.”

“I had a feeling.” Her shrug was nonchalant, but the way she picked at her fingers suggested she was more nervous than she was trying to let on.

“Why are you here, Tasha?”

“Because I care,” was her answer, spoken softly yet firmly, as if she was challenging you to oppose her. But you let her.

You let her slide down, lay her arm over you. You let her lay a kiss on your forehead, hold you while you slept, fend off the screams of the departed so your dreams didn’t turn into nightmares. And just before you finally dozed off, getting the rest you’d been deprived of for days, you murmured something so quiet she could barely hear it. She’d never forget it.

“Ever since I joined the Avengers, I’m always waiting for someone to leave. Someone getting hurt, getting killed. They’ll leave one way or another and I won’t be able to get them back. I’m always on edge. But you make me feel safe, I think.”

-

“Tasha, you know that’s not true at all. Please,” you tried walking towards her again with one trembling hand outstretched, just to get her to put down the bottle, just to pull her into your arms as you tried to physically show her just how much you really did love her, just to do anything.

She backed away.

It hit you then; you weren’t going to get her back. Not now, at least. Nothing you could say, nothing you could do, could get her to listen to you at this moment.

“Just leave me alone,” she whispered, as if she could read your mind. You always thought the two of you were connected in some way. Maybe she could tell what you were thinking.

But it seemed the connection stopped there. She couldn’t understand how your feet were glued to the floor, how your heart stopped for the umpteenth time that hour, how your eyes scoured any and every part of her for want of some sign that things would be okay. She gave you nothing but a renewed hardening of her gaze, as if she had just remembered her days as one of the world’s most formidable assassins.

“Fine. I’ll leave.” And just like that, she was gone. It didn’t matter that she almost stumbled over the leg of a chair, or how you got an extra strong whiff of vodka as she passed by. What mattered was that she was gone.

---

Natasha got you balloons, filled you with joy and love as if you were a child at the center of attention during their birthday party. And you, distracted by all the other decorations that surrounded you, had let them go, the strings slipping out of your grip and floating to unreachable heights.

You had let her go.

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu

[seriesxwriting]

I’m gonna end up in prison anyway.

JJ maybank x you! <3

JJ is upset about jhon B being in prison and takes it out on you… but JJ soon realises he’s in the wrong and apologises confessing his love for you at the same time <3.

Warnings- kissing and swearing. I think that’s it.

Also just wanna say that I know all my writing has been outer banks characters but more characters are coming soon I promise. I’m just obsessed with this show at the moment :)

“JJ your an idiot!” I yelled at him once he’d climbed in to the speeding car explaining what he had tried to do. “well I’m going to end up in jail anyway so who fucking cares” JJ ran his fingers through his blonde hair avoiding eye contact with me sitting tight in the seat next to him.

“I fucking care JJ” I mimicked him in a calmer tone.

He looked at me still panting from the run “you alright?” Pope eyed his best in the mirror from the front seat. “Just a shit day” he inhaled and exhaled loudly turning his whole body away from me and staring out the window.

What the fuck was he thinking trying to bust jhon B out with that plan! We needed to prove his innocents not go on the run again.

Ki drove us back to where we were staying in silence. Her and pope went off in to the night talking about some random stuff, giggling some might say flirting. “y/n” he called out when I was walking away from the car minding my own business “what”.

JJ came around to my side climbing out of the white suit he was dressed in tying it around his torso.

“You still mad?”

“I’m not even mad JJ I’m -just worried” I stuttered trying to think of the right words so I would give him any clues to how I really felt about the boy.

“John B is in prison! I needed to do something It’s him you should be worried about” “I am! But I’m worried about you as well your acting like an idiot your not going to prison JJ so stop blaming all your shit on that, it’s not down to you we’re all doing everything we can to free him but your choices there down to you! So watch them”

“None of you are doing anything” he scoffed, I went closer to take his hand in mine. “why do you think your going to prison?” I whispered looking up at his beautiful eyes holding his hand in to my stomach.

“Because I am! Im going to end up in prison anyway so what’s the point” he shouted pulling away from me looking up at the sky with the roll of his eyes.

“well I’m not gonna let you!”

“You can’t do anything about it y/n were all fucked! ki just got kicked out of her parents house Pope hasn’t been home for days! My dad is a dick head- so is Sara’s and you, I don’t even know what your doing here you could go back home to you warm fluffy bed any time you wanted… John B is already in prison it’s just a matter of time before we’re ALL in there too” he shouted at me with tears in his eyes.

I wanted to hug him because he was in pain but he’d hurt me.

“FUCK YOU! I’m a pogue”

“are you? Do you want to be in prison with us” JJ asked me calmly with a hint of a smile.

I pushed him on the chest and he stumbled back a bit looking at my face knowing he’d hurt me.

“your upset …about John B I know, but you don’t have to be such an asshole! If you wanna fuck your life up and go prison be my guest JJ… but you won’t see the others in there, don’t say I didn’t try to help you because that’s all I’ve EVER tried to do” I shouted with a tear sliding out my dolled up eyes. Side looking him before turning my back with attitude and leaving JJ stood there. Alone.

I couldn’t believe I was actually in love with that ass, he’d never spoken to me like that how I knew he was just hurt.

But I wasn’t going to take that it’s not acceptable, no one should be spoke to like that and if he wanted me to forgive him he was gonna have to work for it. I went to sleep soon after that, on the beat up sofa with scrappy blankets feeling empty inside, though I didn’t get much sleep overall.

I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, playing back the conversation in my head overthinking it. finally getting to sleep around five am.

“Don’t tell me how to wax my bored!” Is what I woke up to.

My head was clanging from lack of sleep and the sun glaring down at me through the dusty window.

“Boys, SHUT UP” I sailed out to them, not being in the mood to be awake yet “sorry y/n! JJ is just being an idiot”

“what else is new?” I wondered to pope coming out into the straight heat blocking the sun with my hand.

Kiara and pope laugh at me while JJ stood there looking guilty underneath his sunglasses. His face showed that he regretted what happened last night but I really wasn’t interested at the moment. He’d pissed me off.

“Don’t you think he’s using to much wax?” Pope pointed at the bored in JJ’s hands.

“don’t tell me how to wax my bored! Jeez”

JJ lifted up his sparkling sunglasses up on to his head in anger at pope.

“I’m just saying…” “guys seriously stop it!” Kiara looked up giving them daggers clearly getting annoyed. “Remember when y/n suggested you shut up, listen to it!”

“wait shhh.. do you hear that?” JJ rotated his head and eyes away from me peering in to the distance of the road “is that…” I trailed off listening out. Jhon b swerved around the corner in his van with a huge smile on his face. The feeling in the air changed immediately.

“JHON B?!” Kiara jumped over the sofa throwing her magazine on the floor running towards him excitedly flopping in to his arms

The boys followed jumping in to a happy group hug I didn’t Wanna disturb. Though it did put a smile on my face.

“what the hell bro?” JJ slapped John B on the back with a beautiful smile fixed on his face. It was nice to see him genuinely smile.

“They let me go” he smiled shrugging while everyone took a step back.

“Come here” jhon B laughed putting his arms out to me, I’d stayed in the dorm frame the whole time just watching. I bounced over and we met in the middle hugging tightly. “Ugh it’s so good to have you back” I whispered softly

“but they just let you go?” Pope questioned confused.

“Sure did- charges were dropped, wheres Sarah?” He looked around and then at me.

“She didn’t come back last night” JJ sighed so I didn’t have to answer “she went to meet wheezie and didn’t come back” he explained again in more detail when John B looked at me for answers again.

Suddenly out the corner off our eyes we saw a speedboat heading to us, with topper and Sara. The confused ,but happy to be reunited, pogues all ran towards it but gently my wrist was grabbed. Stopping me from following.

“can I talk to you?” JJ asked with a sad soft face pointed to the floor,

“maybe if you actually look me in the eyes for once” I told him while folding my arms defensively so I’d get out of his grasp.

“I’m- sorry I’m so sorry y/n, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that you didn’t deserve to hear that, it came from a place of anger and worry and sadness it wasn’t meant for you”

“That’s what I said to you JJ, I also said I was here for you but you can’t push me away like that” I attacked him with guilt “I know that…” “but theres a reason” JJ fixed his top setting it straight and looked dead into my eye.

This time he took my hand…myy heart beat quickened as I grew more nervous thinking about all the possible things he could say.

“Uh… okay, I really like you..y/n” JJ confessed with a smirk.

“W-what?” My words didn’t know how to come out and my body insisted on making me look like an idiot. I forgot got how to control my body, my mouth was open in shock with What the boy had just said.

“me?”

“Yes, you” JJ’s laughed filled my ears flicking his blonde hair out his eyes . “I said all that’s shit to you yesterday because I know I’ll never be good enough for you… and that hurts so I fucked things up.. but I don’t wanna fuck this up”

“You didn’t fuck anything up, I like you too” I told him softly snaking my hands up to his face holding it so he was looking at me. It was all such a rush.

“but you need to work on your eye contact because you have such pretty eyes” I smiled against his soft lips before kissing him.

Our tongues entered each others mouths and my hand held on to his blonde hair for support. We both pulled away out of breath and burning with the excitement of young love. leaning out foreheads on each other’s.

“Fucking hell y/n, I’d thought out every possibility about how this would go but none of them where like that” he breathed quietly, giggling holding my waist and bringing me closer to his body.

“I promise I won’t ever shout at you again”

“I can deal with the shouting JJ ,it’s the part where you put your self down! That hurts me because I believe in you”.

He looked taken back, “no one- has ever spoke to me like you have” he whispered in realisation, “well then you better fucking listen to what I have to say huh” I raised my eye brow chewing on my bottom lip

JJ nodded his head grinning down before pulling me in to a hug.

“thank you” he whispered in my ear. “For what?” I looked at him funny “for not giving up on me” “no I like you too much” I shrugged looking at the floor to distract my smile.

“I promise I won’t ever give up on you” I told him seriously.

JJ beamed and leant in for another kiss warming my heart and securing me in his strong arms.