#sorry for the absence once again i did start my job again but i have truly been lost to gaming i have passed 1k hours in destiny 2

[lilasamaaa]

Ignorance is bliss | Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3K.

Warnings | Brief mentions of sexual activities, panic attack, Max and reader get in a fight.

Summary | Max and you have been dating for several months, and everything is going well. Except when paparazzi start chasing you for no reason. Is your boyfriend hiding something from you?

Author's note | This was requested by @butterflyexe ! Thank you lovely for the great idea! I tweaked it a bit though, so I hope you like it! I loved writing this piece but again, sorry for the crippling angst lmao 🥲 Not proofread as usual, oopsie

The doorbell of your apartment rings, and you leap off your couch, opening the door and throwing yourself into your boyfriend's arms.

"Oh, wow," Max says, pressing a kiss to your head. "Did you know it was me or do you throw yourself into the arms of everyone who rings your doorbell?" he adds, laughing.

"Of course I knew it was you," you reply, laughing too. "I've been waiting for you all week. And I noted that your flight was landing an hour ago, so it lined up," you explain, taking his hand and leading him to the couch, where you both sit down.

Max looks tired, the bags under his eyes casting blue and gray shades on his pale skin. He moves to lie down on the couch, resting his head on your thighs, closing his eyes.

"How was the work trip?" you ask, playing with his hair.

"It was great," he finally replies, opening his eyes and meeting yours. "Quite tiring, but interesting. It was nice to, erm. See my colleagues again," he says.

"I still can't believe your company paid for the trip all the way to Australia," you whisper as Max closes his eyes again under your caresses. "If I had known the automotive industry required you to travel that much, I would have applied for the job."

Max doesn't respond, simply taking one of your hand in his and gently stroking your knee with the other.

"You must feel so out of it with the jet lag..." you continue, concerned. "It's a good thing they gave you a few days to rest. When are you expected back at work?"

"Not until next week," Max says, playing with the rings on your fingers.

"And you said you're going to Japan after? That's such a weird ass schedule," you say, making him laugh. "I feel like you travel more than most influencers... Or even athletes," you state, making him open an eye.

"Perks of the job," Max says before planting a soft kiss on your lips, and standing up. "Can I borrow your shower?"

"Of course! You know the way," you wink at him, heading towards the kitchen. "I'll fix us something to eat in the meantime."

Sitting at the small table in your kitchen, illuminated by a few candles and the lights of the city outside, Max devours the plate you placed in front of him a few minutes ago. You silently observe him, both fascinated by the man before you and disturbed by a thought that has plagued you in his absence.

"I've been thinking," you start, making your boyfriend look up.

"Yeah? Tell me," he says, covering your hand with his.

"How come I've never been to your place?"

Max stops chewing, his light eyes fixated on yours.

"I didn't know you wanted to?" he replies, brows furrowed.

"Well I've never asked to, but isn't that how it usually works in a relationship? Once at mine, once at yours?"

"I'm sorry," Max replies. "I didn't realize it was important to you."

You suddenly feel guilty and squeeze your boyfriend's hand, giving him a warm smile.

"Forget it, sorry," you say, getting up to rinse your plate. "That was stupid. You're right, we're fine here."

After dinner, you and Max settle on the couch again, watching some show on Netflix. When you notice Max fighting against sleep, his eyelids heavy and his breath short, you grab the remote before turning off the TV. The sudden silence jolts him awake, and you laugh before pulling him by the arm and leading him down to your bedroom. You make a quick stop in the bathroom to remove your makeup and brush your teeth and, when you come back to the room, you find Max fast asleep under the covers. The sight is endearing. You press a kiss on his forehead before settling next to him, your cold body against his already warm one.

The next morning, you wake up alone in a cold bed. A familiar smell tickles your nostrils, and you make your way to the kitchen, your eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning!" Max says, already dressed up, and looking much fresher than yesterday. "I made us breakfast."

"Wow, that's so sweet of you," you say before sitting at the table, taking a hot pancake from the plate in front of you.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep so fast yesterday," your boyfriend starts again. "To make it up to you, I'd like to take you out to lunch."

The offer takes you by surprise, and you stare at your boyfriend, mouth agape. It's been five months since you started seeing each other. Five months since you bumped into him by chance at the Monte Carlo casino while you were out dining with friends. Five months of being inseparable, but also five months of very limited outings. Max travels a lot for work, and you don't necessarily have the means to go out regularly in Monaco. Most of the moments you share therefore take place within the four walls of your apartment, and you're thrilled to get some fresh air with him for once.

"You seem happy," he says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I am!" you say, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Where are we going?"

"What about Nobu?" Max says.

"What? Max, that's way too expensive," you reply, furrowing your brows.

"It doesn't really matter, given I'll be the one paying."

"No way," you say. "We're splitting the bill. And I'm not paying three grands for some sushis, as delicious as everyone claim they are."

"They really are. So please, let me do this for you. Just this once? I can afford it," your boyfriend says, making you frown.

His words remind you that you don't know what your boyfriend does for a living. He's talked to you about cars, mechanics, but you're having trouble understanding what kind of job in the automotive industry requires so much traveling around the world. A job that apparently pays very well, given the restaurants he frequents. Realizing there's no point in arguing and not wanting to pick a fight with Max, you simply nod, lips pressed together. However, you're counting on one last point to escape the pricey restaurant and hopefully eat elsewhere. Somewhere more affordable.

"Well, if you insist," you finally say, popping a strawberry in your mouth. "I doubt we'll get a table for noon, though," you add. "I heard you have to book months in advance."

"Don't worry about that," Max says, stroking your cheek. "I need to stop by my place real quick before, can we meet there?"

Two hours later, you're sitting at one of the finest tables at Nobu, facing the sea. The fuck just happened, you think, watching your boyfriend immersed in the menu with a raised eyebrow. How? Before you have time to question it further, a waiter brings two champagne flutes and a bottle in a Nobu-stamped ice bucket to your table before hurrying away, thanking you two profusely for coming.

"Did you order this?" you ask Max, making him look up.

"No, I didn't. That's so kind of them."

"What the actual fuck, Max?" you snap, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" your boyfriend asks.

"Did you somehow not notice how everyone's been bending over backward for us since we walked in? I think the waitress behind you hasn't taken her eyes off us for the past thirty minutes. And since when do they bring champagne to people who haven't ordered anything?" you say with a worried look. "Are they confusing us for someone?"

"Why are you so worried?" Max asks, giving you a look that's meant to be reassuring but just looks uncomfortable. "Just enjoy the moment. And the view."

You sit back in your chair, biting the inside of your cheek. Something isn't right. You can feel it. Max adjusts one of his hair strands, and the sleeve of his shirt slips down slightly, revealing a watch you've never seen before. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the model, and when you do, your heart skips a beat.

"Is this a new watch?" you ask, trying to act nonchalant.

"What? Oh, yeah. Bought it in Melbourne."

"You casually bought a Rolex Daytona?" you ask, tilting your head.

"I didn't know you knew about watches," Max says, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"You don't need to know about watches to know that this model costs almost a hundred thousand euros," you say, eyes boring into his.

The tension at the table has risen a notch, none of you uttering a word. As an anxious waiter places several plates in front of you, you glance around, suddenly realizing something you hadn't noticed before, absorbed in your conversation with your boyfriend.

"There's no one here," you say, still looking around. "It's noon on a Saturday, and the restaurant is empty."

Max sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," he finally says, carefully meeting your gaze. "I wanted us to have some peace."

"What? What did you do?"

"I've privatized the restaurant," he says.

"How did you do that?" you ask, unintentionally raising your voice.

"I paid," Max simply says, grabbing a sushi.

"How much?"

"Several thousands!" Max almost shouts, making you wince. "What's up with all your questions?"

You're completely lost. You don't recognize the man you've been seeing for the past five months. The man who comes to your place by foot, usually in sweatpants, who spends evenings watching Netflix with you. Taking baths with you. Passionately making love to you. You have no idea who this new man is, covered in expensive clothes and accessories, on whom all heads turn and who raises whispers as he passes by.

"Who the fuck are you?" you simply ask, feeling your eyes start to water.

"Baby," Max says, finally realizing how uncomfortable and lost you are. "Please, can we just enjoy the meal? I'll answer all your questions at your place. I'll explain everything, but please. Let's not make a scene," he implores.

You swallow hard, staring at the ceiling to dry the tears in the corners of your eyes. For the rest of the meal, Max talks, telling you about his trip, about his life. You politely answer the few questions your boyfriend asks you, remaining silent the rest of the time. You don't even have an appetite anymore, having swallowed three sushi pieces before your stomach threatened to turn.

At the end of the meal, Max slips a credit card into the folder that a waiter has placed on the table, then adds three hundred-dollar bills. Tip, you think. More than what I earn in a day of work. The price of discretion, probably. The waiter leaves with the folder before coming back, and just as he's about to ask for something, Max shots him a look that makes him close his mouth. Your boyfriend thanks the young man before walking around the table, extending a hand that you grasp to rise as well. You thank the still-empty restaurant staff, giving them a genuine smile despite the anxiety twisting your stomach. Max opens the door for you, and you walk out on the street, thanking him.

For a moment, you curse yourself for forgetting your sunglasses at home, as the Monaco sun blinds you instantly. You blink in surprise, but your blindness persists as Max grabs your wrist and pushes you behind him. You try to open your eyes, but flashes keep assaulting you, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that they're coming from huge cameras pointed just inches away from your face.

"Max?"' you ask with a high-pitched voice, starting to panic.

Max turns around, pressing you against him and covering your eyes as he guides you through the screaming crowd. People push you in all directions, pressing against you, touching your arms, your face, crumpling your clothes. Screaming. At first, you can't make sense of what the voices are shouting, with all your senses being overwhelmed. But suddenly, you hear it. Max. They're screaming his name. Max looks up, and a new series of flashes burn your retinas as your boyfriend holds you even tighter against him, one arm around your shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," you hear him say among the voices.

"What's happening?" you ask, panting.

And, then, you feel it. The panic attack. Even though you've never experienced one before, you immediately understand what's happening to you. You recognize the signs. Your legs give way, and you have to cling to Max to keep from falling to your knees. Your heart rate and breath quicken until they're suffocating, while tears stream down your cheeks.

"I can't breathe," you croak, so weakly that you're not even sure if Max heard you.

"Hang on, baby," your boyfriend says, still walking. "We're almost at the car."

The flashes continue, and so do your tears. Max grips you as tightly as he can, shielding your face, lifting you halfway to help you walk. After a few seconds, the longest of your life, you hear a car door open, and Max gently pushes you into his car before closing the door and jumping in. He wastes no time in starting the engine, cutting through the crowd, disappearing into the alleys of Monaco.

You don't say a word. You're unable to speak. Unable to breathe. Still trembling. Crying. You don't realize it, but Max struggles to tear his eyes away from your body, which seems so small, so battered at this moment. He doesn't speak either, biting his lips until it draws blood. He hates himself. He knows he'll regret making you go through this for a long time. But now, all he can do is explain. Lay all the cards on the table. Something he should have done a long time ago.

The journey seems to last an eternity until you catch sight of a gigantic building, and Max drives into an underground parking. He parks the car and rushes out, opening your door, helping you out. You're still in shock, and Max supports you as he guides you to an elevator. A few seconds later, after twist of his keys, you find yourself in a vast penthouse overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. You don't even have the strength to ask questions anymore. To ask where you are. You sit down on the large couch, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Trying to calm your breathing.

Max watches you, standing at the foot of the couch. Bewildered. Not even daring to come close to you. The two of you stand in silence a few moments, until he finally speaks.

"I know it won't fix anything. But I'm truly, sincerely sorry."

You don't reply, head low. playing with the rings on your finger.

"I owe you some explanations."

No reply.

"I'm a Formula 1 driver."

You finally look up, and the mascara streaks on your cheeks squeeze his heart in the worst way.

"I should have told you earlier. I should have warned you, but I couldn't. With you, I discovered normalcy. Anonymity. I discovered what it was live to have an ordinary life, away from the hustle, the stress, the constant judgment."

"So you knew how precious it was," you say, squinting your eyes. "And yet, you chose to expose me to all of those things."

"I hadn't planned for it to happen. I didn't want it to happen. I tried."

"I can't do this," you reply, feeling fresh tears roll down your cheeks.

Seeing you cry again, Max sits on the couch, pulling you close to him as another sob shakes your body.

"Why?" you ask, crying. "Why did you let me fall in love with the person I thought you were?"

Each of your words, each of your sobs break his heart a little more, but he takes it. He knows your anger is justified. Deserved.

"Because I loved you too. And I didn't want this to stop."

"You lied to me," you say between two sobs. "I trusted you. I trusted you so much."

It's too much. Even for him. A tear runs down his cheek. Max wipes it away angrily.

"If you never want to see me again, I understand. I'll come get my things. I'll erase your number. I won't stand in the way of you living a normal life, of finding love with someone normal. You deserve the best, even if it's not with me."

You hate him.

You despise him for having been himself, his most vulnerable self, with you. For charming you with his awkwardness, his foreign accent, his somewhat strict manners. You hate him for being the perfect man for you. You hate him for making your heart beat so strongly. But above all, you hate him for building your love on a lie, on fragile foundations doomed to collapse and sweep you both away in the wreckage.

"I hate you," you sob, making his heart stop. "And I hate myself even more. For not being able to let you go."

"Baby", he says, moving to kneel in front of you. "If you give me this chance, a chance to rebuild everything with you again, I swear that nothing will ever happen to you again. I won't let anyone near you, anyone touch you. Not even a glance. I will rebuild everything around us. We'll be untouchable. Indestructible."

One month later.

"Are you ready, baby?" Max asks, meeting your gaze. "Once I post it, there's no going back."

"I think so," you say, biting on your fingernails. "Let's get this over with," you add, sitting on his knees while the driver presses a kiss to your neck, softly stroking your leg.

"Okay. Let's do this."

[osachiyo]

𝕱𝖆𝖎𝖙 𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖈 𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖗 · dazai, chuuya & fyodor .ೃ࿐

· 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𐙚 none, gn reader, sfw content, fluff, petnames, headcanons + little scenarios, not proofread

· 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 𐙚 sorry these are really short, im just trying to clear out as many requests as i can for now :') i was gonna add sigma n fukuzawa too but i wanted to get it out asap so i can work on my other wips. also ! i might focus a little more on fluff for the time being :) happy reading and hope you guys enjoyed !

𝖘𝖞𝖕𝖓𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖘... just some cute scenarios with some of the bsd men ᡣ𐭩

dazai.. was an interesting man. he never got flustered no matter how much you flirted with him, not even blushing when you did provocative actions like sitting on his lap, or whispering dirty words into his ear.

instead, he somehow counters your lines with his own — leaving you the one flustered.

but when you give him genuine compliments, or do something nice for him genuinely from the goodness of your heart, the same man who's seemingly unaffected by your advances, somehow turns into putty — melting in the clutch of your warm grasp.

in the quiet sanctuary of your shared bedroom, you hummed sweet words against dazai's dark locks, your lips finding solace on the crown of his head. "you're so pretty," you whispered, a genuine compliment that seemed to momentarily lift the weight of his rough day.

"darling, not as pretty as you," he chuckled, his voice muffled as he buried his face in your chest. the day had taken its toll on him, a tough mission leaving him with more than a fair share of injuries. but those details could wait for another time.

for dazai, these moments were treasures. lying in your arms or having you nestled in his, the simple pleasure of each other's company became a haven. the absence of distractions allowed him to savor the rare peace he found with you, a feeling that almost made him giddy.

your words, genuine and warm, were like a balm for his weary soul. in these moments, he set aside his usual snarky quips and jokes, content to bask in the embrace and scent that spoke of comfort and home. the sincerity in your praise quickened his heartbeat, and for once, dazai didn't need to hide behind humor.

though his face was hidden from your view, dazai couldn't conceal the flush of pink spreading across his cheeks. it was a secret shared only with the solitude of your embrace — a silent acknowledgment of the vulnerability and affection that blossomed in these stolen moments of peace.

considering chuuya's job, you two don't get to spend too much time together. but you had already known and accepted that when you started dating him.

though, when you two do get to spend some quality time together — it's all worth it. he makes sure to spoil you with his affection and attention when he has the chance — making up for all the time he's neglected you.

and after a whole day of getting spoiled by him — visiting fancy and expensive places, tasting amazing food, drinking the finest wine, you finally get to relax at home with your favorite person.

"quit scrunching that handsome face, babe," you sighed, smoothing the furrowed lines of his brows with your thumbs, delicately working the cleanser into his skin. chuuya simply hummed, surrendering to the soothing sensation and leaning into your touch.

"and what's the deal with this?" he asked, his arms enveloping your waist — right where they belonged. "it's just cleanser, does what it says — cleans your skin." chuuya hummed again, drawing small circles on your hips, "just make sure it stays out of my eyes, okay?" you rolled your eyes, adjusting yourself on his lap for better comfort, "obviously."

after rinsing off the cleanser and following through with the skincare routine you'd picked, chuuya stared at his reflection in the mirror — bunny headband adorning his head, bangs swept back and away from his face, which now felt surprisingly soft. "holy shit, my face feels so...smooth?" he blinked, gently squishing his own cheeks. you approached from behind, planting a tender kiss on his neck — "i did tell you my skincare routine works wonders."

"heh, yeah," he chuckled, turning to face you, playfully squishing your cheeks together before planting a soft kiss on your lips, "now it's your turn, love. your skin deserves some of that magic too."

fyodor was a busy man, you always catch him in that dimly lit room — typing away while staring at his monitors. with all the plotting, scheming and hacking — he never really has any time left to take real care of himself.

and that's exactly what you're here for — dragging him out of the dingy room, not paying any attention to his complaints or threats, you know he doesn't mean them.

taking off his ushanka, you wonder how much time had it actually been since he's properly washed his hair — but you didn't ask him that, knowing he'd be even more irritated.

fyodor's complaints ceased once you proposed a shared bath, both of you disrobing before slipping into the warm water. the temperature, meticulously adjusted to his liking, showcased your thoughtful consideration. though the usual positions were reversed, with him against your chest, it was necessary for you to tend to his hair.

"right there, love," fedya sighed in content, tilting his head back and savoring your touch. your fingers massaged the shampoo into his hair, focusing on his scalp. "feel good, huh?" you smiled, placing sweet kisses on the pale skin of his exposed neck before gently rinsing away the shampoo from his raven locks.

these tranquil moments held a special place in his heart. simple yet profound, they kindled a warmth within him. your loving gaze had the power to thaw even his typically cold heart. in those tender glances, he found a promise to himself — to craft the perfect world for both of you.

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal. 

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work. 

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that. 

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift. 

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips. 

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look. 

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.” 

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.” 

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss. 

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.” 

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?” 

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments. 

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.” 

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?” 

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.” 

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes. 

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now. 

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious. 

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.” 

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-” 

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest. 

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!” 

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-” 

“That literally doesn’t-” 

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis. 

He sighs wearily. “Your point?” 

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests. 

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?” 

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-” 

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!” 

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-” 

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.” 

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open. 

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his. 

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves. 

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers. 

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again. 

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset. 

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you. 

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it. 

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

~

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?” 

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.” 

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.” 

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens. 

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.” 

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit. 

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars. 

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.” 

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.” 

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth. 

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it. 

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile. 

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted. 

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven)

taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[ruified]

❝ home 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 ˎˊ˗

warnings: fluff, slight implied angst for oda (IM SORRY 😭), gn! reader . characters: dazai, kunikida, and oda . synopsis: your lover comes home late to find you sleeping already . a/n: this is the first time i’ve written something like this for oda which is surprising bc i love him sm 🫶 .

DAZAI fumbled with his keys outside the door to the apartment before finally getting to the right key. He unlocked the door and swung it open dramatically. “Honey, I’m home!” He sang out, expecting that you would call back to him, but he heard nothing.

He blinked away his confusion and looked around the living room from the door, nothing looked oddly out of place or suspicious aside from your absence. He quietly hung up his coat and removed his shoes before he walked inside. He swiftly made his way to the bedroom and opened the door, making not a sound. To his pleasure, he found you sprawled out across the bed, phone still in your hand, mouth slightly ajar.

Dazai came to stand beside the bed and leaned over you, he pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead which caused you to stir. You hummed drowsily and opened your eyes about halfway, just enough to see your lover staring down at you. You were far too tired to even attempt to fight back the smile that pulled up your lips when you saw him.

“Is that prince charming coming to wake me from my slumber?” You mumbled and reached out towards him, your hand cupped his cheek gently. He chuckled quietly and shook his head. “I suppose that would mean I’m your true love or something like that, right?” You nodded with a blissful smile, your hand slid down his arm to meet his hand, interlocking your fingers. “Mm… yeah, it would, I’m so lucky…”

Slowly, you tugged him towards the bed, not too forcefully though. When he didn’t come closer, you groaned in protest, causing him to laugh once again. “I have to get changed before I come to bed with you. I really can’t sleep in my work clothes.” He explained in a gentle tone, resting his palm on your forehead. His entire demeanor was soft and warm, it was hard to tell if maybe it seemed this way because you were still half asleep anyways.

“You gotta come to bed soon…” You mumbled at him. Dazai nodded. “I will, my dear, just wait for me here.”

KUNIKIDA came home looking stressed and exhausted. He set his things down halfheartedly and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. After recollecting himself, he scanned the living room and registered your absence. He made his way to the bedroom and entered, finding you tucked into bed already. He couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful you looked. He turned on one of the bedside lamps and sat on the edge of the bed, beginning to undress himself to change into his sleepwear.

Feeling something weigh down the bed, you began to stir with a groan. You rolled over and reached out slowly towards the blonde. “Kunikida… you’re home…” His head swiveled around and he gave you a nod. “Yes, sorry I’m late,” He sighed, “I had a lot of paperwork to do because we just wrapped up a big case.” You hummed pleasantly and crawled towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Well, you’re home now, come rest with me.”

Kunikida looked down at you as you rested against his side, putting your weight on him. He sighed softly and placed his hand atop your head gently. “I will soon, I have to change and eat. Did you eat already?” You nodded. “I made dinner and set some aside for you.”

With that, he stood up and started to leave until you grabbed his wrist. You looked up at him drowsily with a frown. “You’ll be back soon, right?” He patted your hand reassuringly and nodded. “Of course, it’s nearing the time in which I’m supposed to sleep anyways, I won’t be long.”

ODA’s jobs are always fairly unpredictable, he’s normally stuck doing obscure tasks assigned to him because he’s at the very bottom of the pecking order. In other words, it’s not completely out of the question that he gets home at varying times depending on the job. Tonight just happened to be a time in which he gets home late. When he got home, he happily found a plate of curry on rice already set aside for him. Of course, he went straight for that first, he figured you were in the bedroom anyways and he didn’t want his food to get even colder.

After finishing his meal, he washed his plate and left it to dry before going to get himself ready for bed. He used the bathroom before finally going to the bedroom, only to find you fast asleep already. Oda leaned over and kissed your temple, brushing your hair out of the way gently. You started to stir with a hum and a smile on your lips. You slowly opened your eyes and blinked away slumber, clearing your vision enough to see your lover.

Your smile widened and you reached out steadily to cup his stubbled cheek. “You’re home.” You muttered drowsily. Oda nodded and reached up to hold the hand on his face. “I’m home. I already ate, thank you for the food. I just came to get into bed.” You nodded and scooted over to make more room for him to lie down.

The two of you laid facing each other, you nestled up against him promptly, following a sort of routine. “Hard job today?” You piped up. He shrugged. “Just took a while, nothing major.” You nuzzled your face further into his chest with a content sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re back.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You laughed. He had a point, he knew how to handle himself already. Sometimes you did worry that he wouldn’t come back, especially considering his rank, but you trusted him—trusted his judgment. You held him close as you fell asleep, embracing his warmth and listening to the steady beating of his heart.

tags: @pockystixxs

[rotdistressxox]

DARLINGGGGG GUESS WHOS BACK FROM THE PYSCHE WARD!!

im currently brainrotting over agito as you can see..can you write how you think he would meet reader and how their relationship would develop into romance with him? like actually i sat at work for like 15 minutes trying to think how but i actually cannot cook anything up.

(Also I'm seeing the ghost stuff and I'm interested...gonna have to do research for dis one☝️)

sorry if i keep sending you silly asks😞

—🪡 anon

JOIN US WE HAVE SEXY POPES WHO DOUBLE AS FRONTMEN AND FREAKY GHOULS. Listen to them, I highly recommend listening to the meliora and prequelle album before delving any deeper. Watch some YouTube videos abt the lore. PLUS THEY HAVE LITTLE EPISODES <3

Time for some more Cakemaster 9000

Phew, this took a while

Kanoh Agito: How does he fall for you?

• Like what I mentioned in one of the headcanons, you work for Katahara. While Agito doesn't directly work for him apart from beint his representative fighter, he's technically his family AND The Fang.

• However, you two hardly see eachother when on the job. BUT-

• You two visit the same coffee shop. He loves his morning Latte, and you love (insert your favorite Cafe drink here)

• When you first started working, you were surprised to see the Kanoh Agito at a small coffee shop.

• He usually greets and addresses you formally, not interested in any small talk.

• "Sheesh, what a stick in the mud" It's not that he was trying to be rude, but he did come off a little condescending when he greeted you. (He has tone issues)

• One day you woke up late and didn't have time to stop and get your usual.

• He notices your absence. "They can't be sick, they showed no signs of it two days ago"

• Long story short, he picks up your order and goes looking for you. Once he finds you, he stiffly hands it to you. "You were late I presume. I picked this up for you"

• Everyone in the room was shocked. The cold hearted Fang buying someone a drink? You smiled warmly and looked into his eyes "Thank you, this was very kind of you"

• His breathing hitched, and he felt speechless. Was he....flustered? "Don't let it happen again, you work for the Chairman afterall"

• You obviously didn't let it happen again....buuuttt it was super sweet how he seemed to care about you enough to get you something.

• To return the favor, you arrived earlier and got him his Latte. Listen, he was speechless before, now he was in shock. He didn't show it though. In his lifetime no one had ever bought him anything or returned a favor. There was a first time for everything.

• You saw through his attempt to hide the baffled expression on his face. It was kinda- cute.

• "Why have you done this?" "Why not? I'm just repaying you" "I-" "Shush, just take the drink, it's burning my hand"

• He has to get there before you now to ensure that he sees you. He's a bit friendlier with the greetings, too. Don't expect a smile though, just a softer glance in your direction.

• When he was around you, he didn't feel like he needed to be The Fang of Metsudo. You didn't hold him to any higher standard when you chatted, you didn't bother holding back a few curses. He felt as if his soul was on Earth instead of hanging in the balance.

• On one of your off days, the two of you get coffee and sit down for once. Finally having a slower paced discussion. It lasted a few hours, you did most of the talking while he had a response to almost anything. There was a lot he didn't know about pop culture.

• Coffee dates became your thing, even though it wasn't technically a date. More like two friends hanging out. Discussions got into deeper topics like pasts and whatnot.

• Agito decided that he could trust you, so he opened up about the Human Gu Ritual. He didn't know what trauma was, so you explained to him that his feelings and memories about that time in his life would be very traumatic.

• "I'm glad you could tell me that, but are you okay? If I had something like that on my chest I'd cry" "I'm quite alright, I'm not fazed in the slightest but I had no idea the caliber of the topic. I hope I didn't ruin the conversation"

• You tapped your cheek and sighed. "Have you ever been hugged before?" Agito thought for a second. The embracing gesture? The only physical contact he's hand was a pat on the shoulder or when he's fighting.

• "No, I don't think I have" "Well today's your lucky day, bring it in"

• He froze as you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into you. His heartbeat raced as he thought of what to do. "Just tell me if you don't like it" you squeezed him gently. He awkwardly put his hand behind your back and rested it there.

• You let go after a few seconds, but he didn't want you to. "How was it?" You smiled.

• "I'm not sure" He smoothed out his suit, trying to relax himself after what just happened.

• A few days passed and you haven't seen him anywhere. He wasn't at work or at the coffee shop. You start to worry. Did you drive him away? Was the hug too much? Oh god was he dead?

• All the while Agito was keeping an eye on you from afar. Not letting you see him, but he could see you. He felt very fragile after that day, he almost felt ashamed. He wasn't good at managing his emotions. And what happened moved him in a way that frightened him.

• He summons the courage to talk to Katahara Metsudo about how he felt. He was the only parental figure he had in a sense.

• "You are a grown man. Is this really a difficult concept to grasp?" Katahara looked out the window of his office. "I'm inexperienced, these feelings are foreign to me"

• 'He's not referring to himself as we and us anymore, this must be serious' Katahara turned around. "To put it simply" he laughed "Tell (Reader) everything you told me"

• "I have a strong regard for you" Agito came clean. You know how I said there was a first time for everything? Well he had a hint of red on his cheeks. This beast of a man, blushing? Utterly adorable

• "So you're saying you love me?" That's the word. Love. He nodded. "Well. Say it then. There's nothing holding you back"

• He pauses for a moment, he's not exactly fond of eye contact. But this was for (Reader)

• "I love you"

• You wrap your arms around his waist again. "That's all I needed to hear"

• His lips curled into a smile as he looked down at you. You parted from the hug and tilted your head to the side. "Wanna go out to a restaurant sometime?"

• "Are you asking me out on...what is it that they call it...a date?" "Yes" you stated bluntly. Beating around the bush or teasing wouldn't get far in this situation.

• "We can talk about plans later, I have important matters to attend to" he look your hand and grazed his lips on you knuckles. Planting a small kiss on it.

• "Now where did you learn that?" "It's a romantic gesture they do on television" you bite your lip from calling him a dork.

• "I'll meet with you later about this date. Until we see eachother again" He leaves, and you're alone again.

• Man, you're already falling for him. It's not like you'd hate dating him. But you didn't want to be head over heels just yet. You looked at your knuckles and sighed "Ah what the hell, being love isn't that bad"

[margowritesthings]

The Greatest Gift A Cowgirl Could Ask For

a @rdrevents Valentines gift exchange for @cowboydisaster

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 4,400 words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, sexual themes, vaginal sex, mentions of death, unprotected sex, throwing up (TW EMETOPHOBIA), very brief mention of SA in the past, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of Micah Bell a/n: am I britney spears in her 2000 grammy award winning song??? because oops, i did it again. i don't know how I managed to get Bea as my recipient for a SECOND time, but it only felt right to carry on building this universe I've made for her and lying to her about it all week. Whoops.

Bea, my beloved, Happy Valentines Day. You deserve the world and Im so glad I could dedicate this fic to you. Honestly I probably couldn't have gotten the motivation to get back on my feet and write again if it wasn't for you. Thanks for everything you do bby and I hope this lives up to your 'if by some miracle you get me for your gift exchange disregard my prompts and write a TGG prequel' (yes she actually said that) idea. Love you lots xxx

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @luvliewriting @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @snobbybastard

My Darling Wife,

I’m writing to you from up near Tempest Rim. I’ve tracked this bounty all over the goddamn Grizzlies and I’m ready to come home to you. I miss you so much and I’m real sorry I can’t be home in time for St. Valentines. Hopefully I can catch this bastard soon and make it up to ya. We’ll go to the theatre and sit right at the back, how’s that sound? I’ll move heaven and Earth to be beside you soon, you know I will.

I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can be with enough money to take you out on the town. Won’t be long, I promise. 

All my love, Arthur

All my love, Arthur

All my love, Arthur

Your finger runs over his looped script, over and over as if it will somehow will your husband out of the crumpled paper and into your bed. It’s been 2 months since the letter arrived, 2 months of the agony of not knowing if he’s dead or alive robbing you of sleep each and every night. You miss him, more than you could ever imagine one person could miss another and you honestly don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t come home. 

It’s a 600 dollar bounty, it’s sure to be a tough job you constantly reassure yourself, unable to focus on anything but the absence of half of your very soul in every waking moment. 

The day he comes home starts like any other. Time's arrow marches on, the sun rises and sets over your makeshift family as they work and plan and rob and hunt. You busy yourself planning a job with Karen, cushioned into your schedule between menial tasks so that it’s just that bit easier to not think about him. As usual, your efforts are in vain, but at least the chores are done, your steed Diesel is happy, and, all being well, you and Karen will have about 30 dollars to split between you when the week is out. 

An hour before he comes home, everyone retires to bed, save for John (who’s on watch tonight) and you’re left alone by the campfire. It crackles and pops, embers swirling the air around you. It feels like you stare at the twisting flames until your eyes blur and burn and you can’t tell which are tears of irritation to your senses and which are your heart breaking once more.

Moments before you’re reunited with the second half of your heart, you hear John yelling. It’s instinct that drives your hand into your holster, still resting against your hip despite the late hour, and you perk up like a startled deer, straining to decipher Marston’s words.

“Who is it?!” “Arthur, you dumbass!”

Arthur.

Arthur?

“Arthur?!” It’s a breathless shout, barely heard over the rushing blood in your ears as your feet take you to your husband before your mind can even fathom that he’s here. 

But sure enough, when you reach the edge of camp, heart racing, you see Arthur Morgan riding his chestnut mare straight towards you, spurring her into a gallop as soon as he lays his eye on his waiting wife. Marston probably makes some remark about who ‘decided to show up’, but to you, there is nothing but you and Arthur, two magnets parted by an unnatural force finally reaching each other again with a deafening crash. 

And it is. A crash, that is, when Arthur all but throws himself off his saddle and your bodies collide, great big arms wrapping around your frame. It is then that the tears fall down your cheek, soaking into Arthur’s coat that smells so much like him it truly feels like a dream.

You thought he was dead.

Only when you’re safely in his arms, when he’s pressing frantic kisses to your head, whispering your name over and over into your hair do you allow yourself to admit that fact. You thought he was never coming back, and yet here he is. Words fail you, the overwhelming emotion settling right in your throat.

“Oh, god… oh, darlin’ I-I missed you so much…” 

You feel two large hands cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that holds everything and anything the past 3 months could have been had you not spent it apart. But everything fits back into place, the world starts spinning again and you’re whole the second Arthur Morgan’s lips meet yours. It lasts a lifetime, it lasts a fraction of a second. You want to stop time, keep Arthur in your arms forever and never again have to go through the torture of being away from each other. The two of you only part to throw near identical scowls at John, who is amusing himself by telling you to get a room.

Unfortunately, as Ms. Grimshaw so often reminds you all, the Van der Linde Camp is not a hotel, so tonight you will not be afforded the luxury of a private suite as John so kindly suggested. There is only your tent, hitched against the gang’s weapons wagon, the old canvas pulled around to offer a little privacy when you and Arthur first started… well, needing the seclusion.

Calloused fingers intertwine with your own digits, Arthur’s other hand flipping John off before his weight pulls you towards your little corner of camp. There's so much purpose in his stride, the need to have you all to himself, not even share you with the lord above or wildlife below, driving him forward. Driving him home. 

When you’re finally, truly alone, the tears welling in your eyes glistening in the candlelight, no words are needed. Soon enough, you’ll talk for hours on end, catching each other up on every little detail of the last few months. But for now, all that there is and all that could matter is right this very second, when Arthur reaches for you, brushing a thumb over the tear tracks on your left cheek. His eyes, looking almost emerald in the dark of night, roam over each and every detail of you with such an intensity in him that you think he’s trying to remember this moment for the rest of time. You’re sure it’s one you could never possibly forget. 

Arthur snakes both arms around your waist, guiding you backwards until the backs of your knees gently hit the cot and you lay back onto it. He covers the full length of you and then some, making you feel so fragile and small. It’s nice to feel breakable for once, to let go of the need to be the strongest in the room, lest you be ridiculed for being too sensitive or too weak or too womanly. Arthur knows just how strong you are, you need to prove nothing to him, so you can submit to his embrace, allow yourself to just breathe for once knowing you can break and there’s re will always be somebody to put you back together.

He lowers himself to your lips, pressing a kiss to them that doesn’t last nearly long enough. Arthur then kisses your nose, then your cheeks and chin, before trailing down to the crook of your neck. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire, so starved for the man you cannot live without that now he’s finally here everything feels that much more intense. The tiniest scrape of Arthur’s teeth against your flesh shoots through every single nerve in your body and you moan right into his ear. You can actually feel him harden against your thigh at the sweet melody of your pleasure. 

Pushing Arthur’s hat off to the side, your fingers rake through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp encouragingly as he nibbles at your skin.

“Oh, Arthur… Oh, I missed you so much…” You breathlessly whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat when he pauses his movements to glance at you from under impossibly long eyelashes, jade green eyes glistening up at you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So so much.” His voice is soft, as if he’s handling the peacefulness around you so delicately and it causes the overwhelming emotion to well in your chest and choke up your throat. Arthur sees this, trying not to be too taken with his own surprising amount of emotion himself, and relieves you of your job of a response by directing his attention to the buttons of your shirt. You don’t remember him pushing your jacket off your shoulders, but there it lies on the floor beside the entrance to your tent, so he must have.

Despite the juxtaposition of such dainty buttonholes and such large fingers, Arthur expertly undresses your top half until you’re bare to him. He takes no time at all to take one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking at it with a hunger you feel right in your toes. You moan loudly, unable to stop yourself after yearning for this very feeling for so long. 

Arthur coos and shushes you and it vibrates across your skin, not helping you stay quiet in the slightest. The hand not tugging on his dirty blonde locks reaches between your two longing bodies to begin to unbuckle his belt. You can feel your own heartbeat throbbing between your legs, your coil growing tighter and tighter by the second. It’s been almost 3 months since your bodies have joined like this, and yet you’re not sure you can wait another minute. 

You’re purring for Arthur, twitching and grinding as your hand fumbles desperately at the belt. His absence from your skin is agony the second he pulls his hips back to sit up straight. Spotting your downright bratty expression, bottom lip protruding in a pout, Arthur chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby… I gotta get these damn clothes off us.” He gestures to his belt, still very much buckled around his waist. Definitely not your fault. He was being far too distracting.

He’s quick, you’ll give him that, shedding his clothes without taking his eyes off you. You burn under his stare, even more so when he crawls back on top of you to slide your boots off one by one and peel your pants and undergarments down your legs.

The heat radiates off his huge body, his cock pulsing with need. The way he’s putting his weight into his arms to stop from crushing you with his weight adds a definition to his already beautifully sculpted body. Reaching down, you brush the tip of your finger oh so gently over his rosy head, finding a bead of cum already leaking, and you snap. You can’t wait a second longer, scratching and gripping at him like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Please, Arthur, please I need you. S-So long, it’s been so long-” “Shh, I know, princess, I know. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Gonna take care of your pretty little cunt, I promise.” He soothes you, though his own voice is shaky from the very effort of restraining himself, maintaining his control to not drive into you and ruin you. While he whispers to you, he lines himself up at your entrance and you quiver in anticipation.

In all your years before you met Arthur, you never really saw sex as anything but something to give, or worse, something to be taken from you. You never truly understood, not until you met Arthur, who taught you it’s something to share, to experience. With Arthur, it’s different. It is connection and pleasure and it’s wonderful and god damn it, it’s addictive. So when Arthur slides into you, letting out a visceral, guttural groan as he does, everything is right in the world.

You feel so full, especially when Arthur pushes all the way to the hilt, connecting you completely at the pelvis. The moan that escapes your lips is downright obscene and Arthur crashes down into your mouth to swallow it. 

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long, or the emotion of it all, but you swear you can feel everything. Every vein and ridge, every twitch and movement of his perfect cock as Arthur slowly starts to move in and out of you. 

“Fuck… s-so good, darlin. So tight- y’feel so fucking good, princess…”

You’ve never hurtled so close towards a climax so quickly in your life. His torturously slow, deep thrusts drag into your sweet spot every fucking time and trying to hold back brings a blur into your vision. Your own hips grind against his, Arthur gripping into your flesh to guide you perfectly in time with him.

“I-I’m so close already, Arthur… fuck…” You breathe out, your breath tickling Arthur’s ear and sending a visible shudder down his spine. He looks proud at your admission.

“You missed me that much, huh? Gonna cum for me already, darlin’?” 

He gives you no time to respond, pressing a thumb to your clit and rubbing in time with everything else. You implode, pulling Arthur down to catch the scream you’re about to wake everybody up with. It has never felt so intense, and with every thrust Arthur fucks into you it only grows and grows, shattering you to pieces for Arthur to fix back together again. 

When you return, a rhythmic thudding in your ears, the first thing you see is Arthur, of course. His jaw is fluttering madly, a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead but the candlelight makes him look ethereal. You still can’t believe he’s here, alive.

Tears start to glisten in your eyes. You’ve never cried during sex before, not for anything positive, at least, but somehow this doesn’t feel wrong. Arthur slows again, watching you, and you spot an extra shine to his own jade orbs. He knows. He feels it too. 

He’s right there with you. As he always is.

He brushes a piece of hair stuck to your forehead away, and the gesture is enough to send the tears falling down the same worn path on your cheeks as before.

“I love you, Mr. Morgan…” “I love you, Mrs. Morgan…” 

It seems to become too much for Arthur to stay still, and you’re glad for it. You’re desperate for the friction, already flying towards another orgasm. He’s really fucking into you this time, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. He’s groaning and growling and you decide in that moment that it’s your favourite sound in all the world. 

“I… I ain’t gonna last much longer, baby…”

“C-Cum in me…” “Huh?” He slows, shuddering at the exertion required to control his movements, “I-”

But you’re not listening to his protests, your nails digging into the skin of his back and ass and anywhere else you can reach to urge him forwards again.

“Please Arthur, I-I need you… I need you to cum with me, I need you with me…” you plead with him, not truly understanding your need but honouring it. You’ve been without him for so long, you deserve him with you now.

He appears to consider you for just a moment, before diving down to lock your lips with his. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting every bit of you and he starts to pump into you unreservedly. His body grinds against yours and the friction is perfect and you’re so fucking full and before you can even try to hold back, you’re cumming again, stars scattering your vision, heart pounding out of your chest to find release from it’s mortal, physical cage. Your inner walls twitch around Arthur’s length and this time, he doesn’t hold back either. 

His eyes fly open and lock onto yours as you both climax together. It’s vulnerable and strange, but perhaps more connected than you ever thought possible for two people to be. 

Arthur’s cock twitches inside you, pumping out his spend as he groans viscerally, completely losing control of his rhythm as he thrusts into you one last time, harsh and deep. You’ve never experienced this before, with Arthur or any other man, normally erring on the side of caution when it came to such matters, but even as you come down you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Whatever you and Arthur just experienced together felt spiritual, and worth much more than a little risk.

Arthur collapses, even as depleted as he is still considerate enough to collapse onto his elbows and not crush you. He slides out of you, earning a little wince, and rolls to the side so you can rest your head on his chest. It’s like a locket that’s been ripped apart, finally fixed together with the most satisfying click. 

═══════☆═══════

Two months later, life has returned to its equilibrium. You and Arthur are perhaps clingier, still in a sort of second honeymoon phase where you just can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, more so than usual. It’s a side effect of prolonged solitude, you’re sure.

The first time it happens, you blame Pearson and think nothing of it. It’s pretty early in the morning and you’re sitting with Tilly and Abigail, peeling potatoes for the stew tonight. Abigail is venting her frustrations about when John did this and John said that, and everything feels so normal. Pearson arrives, throwing a rather large, rather dead fish onto the table you’re leaning against and you feel the thud from the weight of it vibrate against your back. 

It isn’t until the smell invades your senses that everything starts to feel off. It smells exactly like all the other fish Pearson has ever slammed onto that poor table, which doesn’t explain why you immediately lurch forwards, grabbing an empty bucket and throwing up your breakfast. The fish stench is suffocating and all you can do is get the hell away from it, not noticing when Abigail’s brows knit together almost… knowingly?

You skip the stew that night. 

―

The second time it happens, you try not to think about it. You’re riding Diesel and almost don’t make it off him in time. There is nothing to set you off, no horse shit or rotting animal at the side of the road, and yet in an instant your stomach feels like it has been flipped upside down. 

The sheer volume of your retching catches Arthur’s attention and he tugs on the leather reins in his hands to steady his mare. 

“Darlin’? Y’alright?” 

His concern is evident in his tone and in the tight line between his brows, which deepens when he finds you unable to respond in anything but a frantic nod. He dismounts, spurs clicking against the dusty ground when he approaches you. 

“Oh, sweetheart… that’s it, easy, easy… you’re okay…”

You feel gentle circles rubbed into the tense muscles of your back as you try to get through this again. It’s not lost on you that Arthur is speaking to you like a spooked horse, but it actually really does help. (You decide to prioritise peace of mind and not psychoanalyse why that is). Eventually, it relents and you regain your composure, albeit somewhat less gracefully than you’d have liked. 

“Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, maybe I ate somethin’.”

Your apology for something you can’t help earns you a sad smile from your husband, who places a loving kiss on the top of your head before reaching for your discarded hat and putting it back on for you.

“Y’don’t gotta apologise. I gotcha, darlin’.”

You know he does.

He always does.

―

The third time it happens, the luxury of denial is stolen from you. It’s early enough that your view while you sit with Abigail drinking coffee involves glorious hues of orange and pink scattered around the rising sun. It’s peaceful, tranquil. The warmth of the little metal mug in your hands and Arthur’s jacket around your shoulders is enough to ward off the fresh morning chill in the air.

There is absolutely no warning when it hits, when it happens again. You’re so goddamn sick (no pun intended) of hurling. Your eyes water and your throat hurts a little and you curse under your breath when it’s over. Abi is beside you, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. She waits until it’s over before speaking hesitantly.

“Uh, can I ask you somethin’?” 

You nod, eyes still red and glistening as you swirl coffee around your mouth to take away from the awful, acidic taste lingering. 

“When did you last bleed?”

“What, like an injury? Uh, I cut my hand couple days back, but I don’t see what-“

… Oh fuck. 

═══════☆═══════

The anxiety bounces around your body and you decide that you’ve become far too acquainted with the concept of nausea. You can actually tell the difference between nerves  twisting your stomach and… well, let’s say it as it is:  morning sickness. This is the former, you deduce, spinning both your engagement and wedding ring around your finger to give your hands something better to do than carve fingernail-shaped moons into your palm. He should be home any minute now. Any minute now and it will all change forever.

It’s quite late, but the poker game Arthur was scoping out for potential jobs is known to last a while. You’re the only one still awake, poking the embers of the campfire to keep yourself as comfortable as possible. 

You hear hooves hitting dry dirt first, and it seems to trigger your fight or flight response. God, you’d love to run away from this, but that is pretty much impossible, so fight it is. It’ll be the greatest fight of your life, you’ll soon learn, one you’re privileged to be a part of. But right now, it feels like an all-consuming unknown. 

Arthur can tell something is wrong the second he sees you. You’re terrible at hiding things, especially from him. He always reads you as though you have a poster advertising your feelings printed on your forehead. Arthur dismounts, kissing you tenderly on the temple and wrapping his arms around you.

“What’re you still doin’ up, darlin’? Is everything alright?” You can feel his worry vibrating in his chest as you nuzzle into his embrace. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… Can we talk? I kept the fire goin’.” You say it into his shirt, reluctant to move from this hold.

“Of course…” there’s something in his voice, a tense apprehension that really doesn’t help the knot contorting itself in your gut. 

While you’re more than capable of keeping a fire going, Arthur is an expert, and has it healthily burning within seconds of you sitting down on the overturned log the gang has fashioned into a bench. You’re back to spinning your beautiful gold bands around your finger, trying to remember to breathe in and out every so often.

“What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” His voice is so soft, so kind that it makes you want to cry. But you promised yourself you wouldn’t until you’d told him, because this might just be the most important conversation you’ve ever had, and you definitely won’t get through it if you’re a blubbering mess.

“I, uh… I… somethin’s happened.”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat and Arthur leans towards you, completely enveloping your hands in his. They’re sandwiched in now and you can’t fiddle with your rings anymore.

“What? What happened? Was it Micah? If he’s said somethin’ to you, I’ll kill him, the rat bastard-”

“No, no, it’s… as much as I’d love to see that, it’s not him.” 

The tension releases. Just a little bit.

“I’m pregnant.” 

Oh wait, there it is. 

The silence is deafening, even though you’re almost certain it isn’t actually silent out here right now. There's a fire going and crickets are just metres away, you’re just shutting down with nerves. 

The normally so often tense, fluttering jaw of Arthur Morgan is slack, his eyes wide and gaping at you, occasionally flicking down to your so far bump-less belly. (You should know- you’ve been obsessively looking in a mirror any chance you get for some sort of sign that this is really happening). 

Say something. Please say something. Please don’t be angry. Oh, God please don’t hate me. 

“I-I… You’re pregnant?” He repeats, reassuring you that you haven’t actually gone deaf, though his tone holds no indication of anything but shock. That’s probably fair…

You nod, hands instinctively reaching over your belly. It feels… weird. Holding your hands over your baby. Yours and Arthur’s baby. 

“It happened a couple months back, when you got back from The Grizzlies, I think… I-I’m sorry, Arthur. I shoulda’ been more careful and-and…” You’re rambling, filling a silence that probably should just be allowed to be a silence.

“There… There’s gonna be a baby?”

There. Right there, adorning Arthur’s beautiful features, is the pull of a smile. It chokes you up instantly, so far deep in nightmares of arguments and unhappiness that you hadn’t even considered the good. You start to nod, a little bit of your fringe falling in your face.

“Yeah… There’s gonna be a baby. Our baby…”

“Our baby…” He repeats, his arm raising to brush the hair away from your eyes in such a natural manner it feels like it’s just his instinct to care for you. It is his instinct to care for you, Arthur has shown you that in every minute of every day of your marriage, and suddenly you’re not sure why you’ve been so scared. 

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He still seems in disbelief, but that’s normal. It’s taken you a few days to come to terms with it, and even then the fingernail marks in your palms are still red raw. 

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

It hits him. Really hits him and he all but throws himself into you, scooping you up and spinning you around as he laughs unreservedly.

“Well goddamn, I’m gonna be a Daddy!” 

You laugh with him, worries and anxiety a distant memory as your feet swing around in the air. You’re probably waking the camp up, but you don’t care all that much. Right now, you’re the happiest girl in the world.

A baby. There’s gonna be a baby. Arthur’s baby.

Really, it’s the greatest gift a cowgirl could ask for.

[bitchinbarzal]

Here’s an angst idea

After having Wyatt, Mama B, and Mat decided that it was best if Mama B stepped back from her job so that someone could care for their kids 24/7.

Once Hockey season resumes, the weight of everything started to fall on Mama B a lot. 4 kids, and you’re practically a single mother. You have 2 kids in school with active hobbies, a clingy two-year-old and a newborn.

Her husband? He’s either on a roadie or going home late after celebratory drinks.

Then, they had a big fight one night. Mean things were said but Mama B’s stand is “You get to enjoy your life and career while I have to sacrifice mine. I love the kids but isn’t fair and I fear I’m losing my self of identity.”

After Wyatt was born, you’d decided to take the same six month break you’d taken with all of the other kids but as the time went on you felt like you should stay home and be with the kids.

So, you decided to take a leave of absence from the team indefinitely.

In the beginning, it was all fine. You were soaking up the newborn phase and then the off season came around so you didn’t feel any different.

When the season started back up again, Mat would come home telling you all about his day at the rink and you couldn’t help but become sort of jealous. You wondered what your boys were doing, how were the new guys getting on?

You loved Wyatt, this wasn’t about her. It was about feeling isolated from your friends, work and social life.

You sat at home alone watching stories of the devils on road trips, of your husband out drinking with his friends while you were surrounded by your sleeping kids.

During the day, you felt like you didn’t get a moment to breathe. Ryder had hockey practice almost every single night and Ivy was doing something if it was dancing, piano lessons or something. Along with the fact that the kids were still taking ASL lessons on top of all of that.

On Sunday Mat had an afternoon game and by the time he’d returned home you had already made the kids dinner and cleaned up, everything Mat promised to help with.

He walks in and the house is silent, apart from Wyatt’s gurgling.

When he enters the kids playroom he sees them all, you included having a conversation solely in sign language.

He frowns, not being able to depict the whole sentence only a few words.

“What you guys talking about?”

You all turn to look at him, you bounce wyatt in your arms.

“We’re telling Bailey a bedtime story!” Ivy announces proudly.

“You are?” He asks, walking in and picking Bailey up into his lap.

Bailey begins signing to Mat but his dad only frowns “I-I’m sorry bud I don’t know what you’re saying”

“Mat, he can’t hear you” you grumble “He’s not got his cochlear in”

Before Mat can defend himself, try and sign something to Bailey you take the toddler and mumble something about putting him to bed.

When you come back down, Mat has sent the two older kids to the playroom to watch a movie while Wyatt sleeps soundly in her bassinet by the couch.

You begin pottering around, cleaning the kids mess when Mat speaks “What did you get up to today?”

You don’t look up when you say “Same shit, different day”

He chuckles softly “they can be a little much huh?”

You scowl “and how would you know?”

Mat looks taken a back at your tone “what?”

“How would you know, Mat? How would you know what our kids are like; it’s not like you’re ever around”

You drop the rag in your hand and stare at him wildly “Well?”

He stutters “What is wrong with you?”

You let out a loud and tired sigh “What is wrong with me, Mathew is that I am tired! I’m so tired, I’ve never stopped all day since the day we brought Wyatt home and now you’re telling me you know what our kids are like as if you’re ever around!”

“I’m around-“ you laugh at that, laughing so hard you need to hold your stomach.

Mat stands there, looking like Bailey does when he’s in trouble until you stop “Oh sorry, that was a funny joke”

“It wasn’t a joke”

You point “no, you see it was a huge joke just like you Mat”

“You’re being so rude right now” is all he says and you pout, somewhat mocking him

“You know what’s rude Mat? The fact you can’t even speak to your own son” you shrug “because you’re not home to take the lessons that we agreed we would all take for Bailey!”

“I’m busy at the-“

“At the rink yes I know! I know Mat, because I wish I was at the rink, I wish I was with my team, I wish I was still at work!” You cried, angry tears lining your eyes.

He gapes “You’re mad I’m doing my job?”

“No!” You almost scream “I am not mad at you for doing your job, I’m mad at you because you stopped me from doing mine!”

“The NHL was my childhood dream y/n!”

You sob “It was mine too, Mat”

Both of your chests are rising with rapids breaths “I-I love you, Mathew and I love our kids. We have four beautiful babies here with us, but I cannot keep playing a backup role in the Mat show. I won’t do it”

Mat stands up straighter “The Mat show” he mocks “Like I haven’t always done the things you wanted, we moved house because you needed to work in jersey instead of New York, I gave up so much time chasing you while I was a rookie, everything-“

It hurt hearing that, that he felt like winning you over was an inconvenience.

“I never wanted you to chase me mat, and if you’re so resentful of it then maybe we would’ve been better of if you hadn’t tried”

His heart breaks a little, your suggestion that life would be better if you weren’t together definitely stung.

“You get to enjoy your life and career while I have to sacrifice mine, Mathew. I love the kids and I love you but all of this isn’t fair and I fear I’m losing my self of identity”

Mat is rendered speechless, he’s not sure what to say so he asks “Well What do we do now?”

You shrug “I don’t know, I’m going to put the kids to bed”

A little over an hour later you reappear at the kitchen door and he’s sitting with his hands grasping his hair waiting for you. When he hears you his head shoots up to look at you, eyes falling on the bag in your hand.

“Where are You going?”

You shake your head “Not me, you. I think it’s best if you find somewhere else to live for a little while Mat, give us some space”

“You don’t mean that, we can talk about this” he is almost begging and you.

You drop the bag on the floor and sigh “Please Mat, don’t make this harder than it needs to be”

“It should be hard! We need to fight for our marriage y/n”

“No, Mathew we don’t. Text me your training schedule for the next week and we can sort something out with the kids, Wyatt won’t be able to stay over night because she’s breastfeeding but the rest of them are fine”

Mat doesn’t know what to say, he’s at a loss for words this wasn’t angry words you were saying you were calm, collected and thinking this all through.

He was standing right in front of you. His fingers ghosted over your cheeks and he could feel your tears.

“Baby-“

“Please” you whispered “Please just go, I can’t do this”

So he did, and it hurt him so much to go but if that’s what you wanted he would do it. He went into the kids rooms and kissed them all goodnight before he left, residing at an Airbnb that he managed to find on such short notice.

he spent the entire night awake, looking through your Facebook at your wedding photos, you babies pictures all through tears he watched as his family slowly slipped further away from him and he wasn’t sure he could get a grasp on them again.

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this on popular demand, I hope you like it!

It is a part two to this Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x female!reader (x Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw) imagine.

Thank you @footprintsinthesxnd for proofreading!

Warnings: failed relationship, pregnancy, kissing an ex even though you’re in a new relationship, this fic is racially and body type inclusive despite the moodboard suggesting otherwise

Living with Jake and being involved in a romantic relationship was different than what you had experienced before.

While Jake had kept his distance before he was incredibly loving now, holding you and supporting you all the time.

He went back to work after a while even though he did so reluctantly, you were the one to encourage him for once because you knew he’d be in trouble if he didn’t go back.

You had talked about living accommodations because it had been your and Bradley’s apartment you were sharing.

But when Jake had talked to Bob about why he wasn’t at work he had told him that Bradley was staying at his place, which made the need to move trivial.

Jake shared a small apartment with Coyote that barely had enough space for his twin size bed, it would have been far too stressful to accommodate another person.

Jake was careful to give you enough space to get to terms with Bradley’s absence in your life, especially since he hadn’t talked to you once in the weeks following Jake’s assault on him.

It hit you hard and you really needed your personal space to figure things out, Bradley’s departure, the baby, and Jake’s feelings for you.

You realized that you loved Jake too, which evoked a feeling of relief but also guilt towards Bradley and the baby.

Jake considered your need for personal space and while he held or kissed you intimately he didn’t go any further.

You seldomly talked about Bradley but after a while Jake sat you down to talk to you.

You had just made a call for your first appointment with the doctor’s office for the pregnancy, and your heart was pounding in your ears.

You didn’t know what would happen to you and later the baby, and you were scared for your job and life in general.

Jake saw that and sat you down on the couch, his hands resting on yours reassuringly.

“If you want me to be I’ll always be there for you,” he started, squeezing your hand to give his words more weight.

“I’ve loved you since I’ve known you. And whatever you decide I’ll be there,” he went on and you gave him a defeated yet grateful smile.

Jake was silent as he watched you, knowing exactly what your fears were.

“I’d love to raise the baby with you,” he whispered carefully, and your mouth opened in shocked surprise.

You knew what kind of responsibility that was and you knew Jake was aware of it as well, which meant that his words only hit you harder.

“If you decide to be with me I will be there every step of the way and I’ll be as involved as you’ll let me. I would love nothing more than to raise the baby as my own,” he finished and you cried in response.

You were in love with Jake, especially after what he had said.

You lived together, cared for each other and went out together in public.

Jake was caring and attentive, making sure everything was alright with you.

You saw your friends again and went out with them, with Nat being supportive while the rest were reluctant, being close friends with Bradley as well.

While you were at the Hard Deck and the others were having fun drinking one evening Bradley came to join you.

It was the first time you saw him again and you were nervous, but he didn’t interact with you.

He was busy talking to his friends but you felt his eyes on you, especially whenever Jake embraced or kissed you.

You felt sorry for him, but you didn’t stop Jake from touching you the way he wanted to.

You didn’t like not talking to Bradley so you were relieved when you got back home, a place where you and Jake could relax again.

Jake had had a few beers and had to work the next day so he went to sleep, after asking if you were okay with it.

He was just getting ready when the doorbell rang, and you went to answer it.

You were surprised to see Bradley standing in the doorway and your heart started beating faster, out of nervousness or excitement you couldn’t say.

You didn’t say anything but stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind you as you did so.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do this,” Bradley let out as he stepped closer to you, invading your personal space just enough to establish an air of intimacy and on your part uneasiness.

You swallowed harshly as you looked at him, not sure what he meant by what he had said.

“He wants to claim what’s mine, and I’m not letting him have that,” Bradley said, lowering his head slightly to come closer, but you tried to step as far back as you could, finding yourself pressed against the wood of your front door.

“Just because Jake loves me doesn’t mean he wants to own me. It doesn’t work like that, I thought you knew better. You’re petty, Bradley,” you defended your new boyfriend, and your ex scoffed at you.

You were upset by what he had said and you wanted to go back inside, but you physically couldn’t move.

Instead your eyes were locked on Bradley’s, who stepped closer, pulling your hips against his.

“No, I just missed you,” he whispered as his fingers wrapped around your chin, gripping it tightly and pulling you in for a kiss that you immediately reciprocated.

You didn’t know if it were the pregnancy hormones or if you were still in love with him, all you knew was that you had missed Bradley much like a diver air to breathe.

part three

tagging: @wildbornsiren @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @hederasgarden @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bespinnn @softromantist @malindacath @oliviah-25 @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @marvelandotherfandomimagines @natasharomanoffisbaebby @luckyladycreator2 @blue-aconite @tipsykeen @airedale17 @iangiemae @dempy @princessofglitterland @teti-menchon0604 @butaneandthebeast @katesmadness @call-sign-hurricane @kajjaka @kkrenae @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @rhettabbotts

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

[6emo6zombie6]

HII OMG THANK YOU FOR ANSWERING MY OTHER REQUEST, THE STORY WAS SOO GOOD LIKE AHHH!! <333

not tryna make you feel overwhelmed or anything of the sort, but I was wondering if I could request a fem! reader who used to be bubbly, friendly, and just a fun person to be around before she started to grow distant from Dutch, Arthur, and John and became fond of someone else. She and this new person would be hanging around each other constantly around camp, hunting together, shopping together, etc. Which caused them to start becoming jealous?

this doesn't have to be written in a story, if you want you can write this in head cannon format and I'll still eat it up <3. thank you so much

Hi! I'm sorry for the delay on this one, I had some other stuff going on. The prompt was a little bit of a challenge for me, so i hope this isn't too bad.

Jealousy headcanons ~ John, Arthur, Dutch ~

John:

Initially didn’t think anything of you growing more distant. He still talked to you and went on as usual, even if you showed up to him less.

Started coming to you once you weren’t the one showing up to talk to him.

His time for you got less and less as he was constantly busy doing chores and jobs.

It took him a little while to figure out that your attention had shifted completely to the gang's newest member, he wasn’t surprised. A lady such as you was bound to fall for a handsome, charismatic young man.

He still thought little of it. Who you were around was your decision, not his.

Only got hurt once he tried to talk to you about it. He’d gotten used to initiating most of the conversations in your friendship, but this time you flat-out brushed him off. It was like this new gang member had completely claimed you as his.

“Oh, sorry I have to go help him,” You muttered straight-faced, leaving John mid-conversation.

John just stood there, confused and hurt. Of course, he didn’t show his hurt, he never did, he was too tough to get all pent up over this.

He, however, would still be thinking about this all night. He hated seeing you with this new guy, suddenly he was taking you out and teaching you to shoot. John had unconsciously taken that as his task.

From that point on he started ignoring you completely. No longer did he greet you when you walked past him, he never got you coffee in the morning, and he stopped helping you with your guns.

John’s the type of man to hold a grudge and take it to his grave. He didn’t expect you to come back.

He didn’t try too hard to ignore you, he sometimes even glared at you when you walked past. He wanted to be close again like you were before, but you didn’t see the urgency in socializing with him.

He snapped one time when you bumped into him, and it scared you. His feelings had been bottled up for so long and you hadn’t noticed once or even asked him how he was doing.

Arthur:

He had an opinion on your new relationship, for sure. He knew something was off about this new kid the day Dutch brought him to camp.

Despite his doubts, he managed to keep an open mind. You seemed happy with this guy, at least. That’s what he was most worried about.

He managed to convince himself that your new friend was perfectly sane. He seemed to take good care of you, even if Arthur was still clinging to how that was his task previously.

Yeah, he missed taking care of you. He never even thought of how much he took that task upon himself, it seemed like instinct.

Your absence made him think—a lot. He was used to keeping his thoughts to himself and just letting them simmer down, but this was different. He was worried about you, yet he had no clue how to tell you how he felt.

He avoided you for a while, mostly to keep his thoughts quiet. Of course, it was hard to avoid each other in a camp as small as yours, so he brought it upon himself to be the errand boy for a couple of weeks.

The two of you had a slight clash at a party on campgrounds. Arthur, you, and the rest of the camp were all wasted and having a good time. Arthur managed to keep his thoughts to himself as he usually did, but when he saw you hanging with him again, something snapped.

“Excuse me,” He murmured, still polite despite the amount of whiskey in his system as he grabbed your arm and practically pried you away from your fling. He pulled you along behind the nearest tree, making sure nobody could hear you—and then it started. For once in his life he conveyed his thoughts through words, even if it was with the help of liquor. He told you exactly how he felt, and how your absence had affected him. His words made you realize, making you snap out of your love-drunk state.

Dutch:

He was very optimistic about the new member he had rescued from a life of begging on the street. He knew the two of you would get along, seeing as you had always been a very social and bubbly person.

As Dutch had predicted, the two of you became close super quickly. You seemed to have an interest in all the same things and hobbies. He saw no harm in your new-found friendship, and he didn’t even question anything once the two of you started getting closer than just that.

Though, once you started showing up less, he immediately got worried, and a little defensive over you. He would pull you away from him whenever he felt like you were together too much.

You knew no other behavior from Dutch, he would even pull you away from Arthur sometimes when he felt the two of you were doing too little work, so you went along with his requests as usual.

He started questioning you more and more as time went on, he’d have to pry you apart from your love more often since the two of you seemed to be together every moment you got. He even sent Micah along on a heist with the new member, just to get him out of the camp for once.

He would never admit it, but he was jealous, you were all buddy-buddy with him before this. If Arthur wasn’t deemed his pet, you definitely would have.

“I need you to spend more time doing chores, and less time getting all cozy with that boy.” He confronted you when you were alone for once. “I haven’t seen you talking to Arthur anymore—or Mary-Beth. What has gotten into you?”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you once Dutch told you off for our distant behavior. You knew he was right, but you’d been avoiding his questions for weeks.

You agreed to see him less to focus more on chores and getting back to socializing with other gang members, even Dutch got his daily dose of attention from you.

Maybe his constant bickering was a tad manipulative, but he knew it was for the better.

[always-together]

Just a Little Something Up Ahead

(Aka: A very long overdue apology, where I’ve been, where I’m going, and the future of my blogs (Spoiler alert: I’m not going anywhere, but updates are needed))

Tagging everyone I remember writing with frequently on my blogs in the hopes they see this and read the whole thing: @pcrplevenom , @nxtleftbehxnd , @misfitxofxfriends , @ssatxr , @advnterccs , @opportunistic-chicanery , @trickywanderer , @twistytwine , @automaton-otto , @monmuses , @raktanag , @dragonizens , @alicerozen , @arianatheangel-girl , @saltygempearl , @castleofmxses

Please take the time to read this whole thing if you can. This has been a long time coming and I don’t want anyone to feel as if my absence has been anyone’s fault, because it absolutely has not been, under any circumstance. It’s been entirely me, and my own inability to maintain all of my blogs during college.

Hello everyone. If I’m remembering correctly, this is my first non-reblog post since last October, when I vowed to come back and respond to the Halloween threads I attempted to start and obviously, disappointingly (most especially to myself), never did. I felt very bad then and still do, because it was going to be my first time interacting with several new blogs and I just…ruined my chance to make a good first impression because all will to write Garnet completely vanished. Some of the people that I tried to start interactions with are tagged in this post, and to both you all and those I write with all the time, but especially the first-timers, I apologize deeply and hope you can forgive me for letting you all down like that.

I know there’s a million worse things to be guilty of on the internet than abandoning your rp blogs because you have no muse, but this has all been just as bad as those worse things to me. Although I’ve undoubtedly been having fun on my Spamton blog I’ve also been feeling incredibly guilty, and for leaving you all in the dark as to my thought processes and IRL reasons why I went away I once again deeply apologize. No words can properly express to every single one of you all just how sorry I am for disappearing this past year and a half. It’s been a long time coming, but now that my fall semester at college is over I feel now is a good time to explain everything and talk about where me and my blogs are going from here.

The number one thing is, of course, college. Even in my freshman year, prior to my Spamton blog, I was having trouble maintaining multiple blogs and characters at once due to work sapping all of my writing energy. Coupled with the jobs I ended up getting, especially the one I’ve had since June, trying to run five blogs at the same time proved impossible. So, foolishly, I took the easy way out and stayed put at the one I had, and still continue to have, the most muse for. I don’t regret doing so, as it made balancing everything much easier to handle, but I do regret not telling you guys somehow first and leaving you all behind like I did.

The other main thing is…hard to explain through just text with no tone indicators, so please bear with me and know that, again, me leaving most of my blogs and you guys behind was no one else’s fault but my own. Attempts to properly come back here and apologize have been stymied by me finding my prior writing style and tagging system cringy and disorganized, respectively. Of course, it was only a matter of time before I felt this way: This blog has been around since I was 17 and now I’m 20, with much more writing experience behind me and the ability to refine my tagging process over the course of my different blogs. This blog feels stuck in the past in comparison to my Spamton blog, my newest blog, in a certain way, in regards to that. Especially with the disorganized tagging. What was I thinking 🤦‍♀️

That’s not even getting into the muse pages across all of my blogs, further worsened by the fact that I’m primarily mobile and can’t edit them at a moments notice or create fancy Caards like all of my mutuals. They make me cringe more than my writing in some ways. Please do not look at my About the Mun page on this blog, I will be removing that when I can 😬

Returning here eventually became associated with regressing to how I was back in 2020 in my mind, and soon that began to spread towards how I felt about my other blogs, too. I was rigid in replies and sticking to plots, barely sent partners memes yet inwardly expected to be sent them in return, and never really IMed or communicated except through tags. I am happy to say that over the past year of silence I’ve gotten better at all of that, but you all shouldn’t have had to suffer while I figured my shit out. But nevertheless I still left, and hid away at my Spamton blog until now.

I want that to change, desperately. I miss you all. I miss Garnet. I miss all of my other muses, too. But considering I’m a junior in college now, with my capstone/thesis fast approaching, I don’t know how difficult that’s going to be. And of course, I don’t want to abandon my Spamton blog, either. Whatever I end up deciding, however, I need to update all of my information pages to reflect my current standards and make my tags more easier to navigate, like they (mostly) are at my Spamton blog.

So until I can find the time with my busy holiday work schedule to do this necessary work on all of my blogs, all activity is currently at @thebigshotman . Feel free to send in memes, random asks, and interact/IM me there, if you’d like! I’ve gotten a lot of crossover threads going lately, and much like the Haunted Mansion there is always room for one more 😊 So please, if you’re still interested in interacting with me after all of the shit I’ve done, head there for now.

I’ll be reblogging this on all of my other blogs tomorrow so as many people see this as possible, and know I didn’t forget about everyone. Changing everything looks like it’s not going to happen until after New Years, so consider coming back to everything my New Year’s resolution-except unlike many resolutions, this one is actually going to happen.

Thank you for taking the time to read all of this, if you indeed still are. Like I said, I’ve missed you all dearly, and I want to come back. But I can’t until I’ve done some very overdue updating and organization. (Everything old will stay tagged as it is, but going forward things will be easier to find.)

I’ll see you all soon. And this time, that’s a promise.

Love, Mun Bri ❤️

Relationships/friendships with Garnet and all of my other muses will remain the same unless you or I message each other agreeing otherwise

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Kate Bishop x Reader Not Who You Think I Am Part 6

Summary: Yelena opens your eyes to a hard truth. Kate comes home.

"On your feet y/n now" Yelena ordered taking a few steps forward, but you remained on your knees with your head hung low. Your sword clattered to the floor as your fingers lost their grip on the hilt. You didn't have any strength left to fight her, even if you wanted to. All of the fight was drained from your body, the second it it you. That it was truly over soon enough Kate would return home, and Yelena would tell her the truth. You would have to go on the run to stay out of prison.

The blonde grabbed you by the front of your shirt and hauled you back onto your feet. "I said get up" she demanded. The lack of anger in her voice threw you off a bit, and you finally gained the courage to look her in the eyes. They were sympathetic, and that just confused you even more. Yelena pushed you back into a chair at the kitchen table with ease, as you still refused to put up a fight. She moved to the kitchen and you heard her rummaging around in the cabinets.

"Now I know you're driving yourself crazy at this point. because you think I'm going to tell Kate your big secret." Yelena began pulling out a box of macaroni and cheese. She headed over to the stove, retrieved a pot from the bottom, and started dumping the box into it.

You lifted your head watching her move around as if she lived here. It was possible that Kate invited her over when you weren't around. It would make sense it seemed like she wanted to keep the blonde a secret up until a few days ago. "Are you not going to tell her?" You asked her trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Of course not" she replied.

The weight of your worries were lifted in that instant, and you leaned back into the chair releasing a deep breath.

"I'm going to let you tell her yourself after all its not my secret to tell. Plus I feel like it would hurt worse coming from me" The blonde finished.

Just like that the illusion of peace was gone, and you were tensing up again. Yelena came over to sit in the chair across from you. "But what I really want to know is why?"

"Why what?" You whispered defeated.

"Why are you working for Kingpin? Kate told me you and her grew up together and she's done nothing but go on about. How much of a good person you are, and I don't feel like she's wrong-" Yelena paused to look you up and down. "I know a bad person when I see one y/n, and I don't get a see one in you. So once again why are you working for Kingpin? Explain it to me."

"It's a legacy thing my father chose this life, my brother followed in his footsteps, and with both of them in the grave. I'm the one who has to pick up the pieces, and finish what they started" You told her.

"What about your mother?"

The apartment grew real quiet after that question. Your mother was a touchy subject and even Kate didn't know the story about her absence in your life. She tried getting the truth out of you once when the two of you were sixteen, and you shot her curiosity down with a single look. Kate never brought your mother up again. You didn't like to think about her, and the few moments you shared with her for more than a couple of seconds. It wasn't animosity, but grief that kept the memories at bay. Your mother was a kind soul who loved her family dearly, and lived a honest life. Her only mistake was falling in love with a bad man.

Yelena could feel the tension increase as your hands balled into fists. "Never mind-

"My mother paid for my father's mistakes in her own blood" You whispered.

"I'm sorry" Yelena replied with genuine remorse.

"I didn't ask for this life nor did I want it. I spent my entire life doing everything I could to get as faraway from possible from all this, but in the end none of it mattered. Wilson Fisk has too much power and influence. It was easier to just give in and do what he wanted rather than try and resist. I figured I could do these few jobs for him, tie up the loose ends with the Tracksuit Mafia, and once the scores was settled. He would keep his end of the deal and leave me alone for good. Kate would never find out about my involvement and the two of us would go on to live happily ever after." You went on with your explanation after taking a minute to gather yourself.

The blonde's facial expressions were unreadable, and it drove you crazy as she got up to go check up on the food without so much as a word.

"Kate will be home sometime tonight. Do you plan on sticking around till then to make sure I tell her?"

She didn't answer your question right away. It would come five minutes later after she was settled back into her chair with a bowl of macaroni and cheese in one hand, and a bottle of hot sauce in the other. She dumped a good portion of the bottle into the bowl, and took a few bites. Before turning back to you with sympathetic eyes.

"This really is a crappy situation you got yourself into you know, and while part of me wants to let you keep your little secret. I know better than anyone y/n that you can't run from your past. No matter how hard you try its the one thing in life that is guaranteed to come back and haunt you." She said her gaze drifting off as a look of longing fell upon her face. "Sometimes its best to just face it and own up to it."

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" You insisted slamming your hand down on the table.

Your frustration didn't faze at her at all as she simply just shook her head at your antics. "You're still trying to hide it from it. Did you ever stop and think things could've been different. If you had been honest with her from the start?"

"Considering she put her own mother in jail I’m pretty sure I know what would happen if she knew the truth about me."

Yelena shook her head again. "I'm talking about before Kingpin came to you. All your life you've known Kate, and you never opened up to her. You never considered that she might be able to help you."

"I didn't want her to see me differently alright" You shouted jumping to your feet so fast. Your chair fell backwards on the floor. "I love Kate with everything in me, and I know she loves me too. But in her eyes the world is black and white there is no gray area. You're either good or bad. A villain or a hero. No in between."

Yelena had no words of encouragement this time because you were right. Even though Clint wasn't the man that Valentina had made hime out to be. In order to persuade Yelena to accept the contract to kill him. He was far from the perfect hero that Kate believed him too be, but trying to open the young girl's eyes to his flaws was practically impossible. In her eyes Clint was a hero who could no wrong, and while she didn't exactly feel bad for what happened to Eleanor. The woman had been acting out of love for her daughter when she put out that contract on Clint's life. Everything her mother every did was to keep their family safe, but Kate was unable to see that.

There was a good chance that Kate might've seen the worst in you even she knew the truth, but still it would've been better for her to find out then. Rather than now with you knee deep in Kingpin's operations, and working to help cover up his crimes and connection to the Tracksuit Mafia.

"We don't have to tell her" You whispered pleadingly. "There is only one more thing I have to do then I'm done."

Yelena eyes bore into your own, and she saw the desperation in them. You were clinging on to the last bit of hope you had, and it almost killed her to have to crush it. "What if Kingpin isn't willing to let you go? A man like that isn't bound by his word and he knows your biggest weakness. What if he decides he has more use of you?"

"Got dammit" You cursed kicking the fallen chair so hard it flew into the kitchen. "Why would say that?"

Deep down you knew what her questions were valid, because you had been dreading that very thing happening. Wilson Fisk wanted nothing to do with the Tracksuit Mafia, but with your history and skillset. There might be a chance he decided to try and keep you under his thumb. You told yourself you'd only worry about crossing that bride when it came, and you were one job away from its arrival. The big man was supposed to be giving you what would you final assignment in just a few days, but what if he wanted more? You couldn't keep up this charade forever especially with Kate making it her mission to bring you down.

"I know you don't want to admit but I'm right and we both know it" Yelena told you. After a few minutes of watching you spew curses and toss objects all around the apartment. You had sunk to the floor with your back pressed to the wall as your emotions ran dry.

"I love her" You managed to get out voice cracking.

"Then tell her the truth and I don't just mean the whole secret identity thing." The blonde walked over to crouch down in front of you. "Tell her everything and maybe you save your relationship."

You simply shook your head letting the tears that you'd been holding back. Since the beginning of the conservation fall free from your eyes.

Hours Later

"Babe I'm home" Kate called out as she entered the home dumping her bag on the floor, and placing her suitcase on wheels in the corner. She walked into the living room with a huge smile on her face. Glad to be home so she could just kick back, and relax in your arms. But her smile began to falter as ten seconds went by without you answering her, or no noise coming from the bedroom or any other part of the house indicating you were home.

"Y/N" she shouted your name a bit more worried now. It was way too late for you too still be at work, and usually if anything was going to keep you out. This late at night you would give her heads up rather she was out of town or not. It didn't make sense why you wouldn't be home unless something happened.

The new leader of the Tracksuit Mafia came to mind, but Kate shot it down almost immediately. Yelena promised her that the city had been quiet, and there were no signs of a girl running around in a wolf mask with a sword. Most importantly the blonde reassured her that she stopped by just two hours ago to check up on you. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Was it possible that the girl waited until Yelena was gone before making a move? But then again you definitely wouldn't just go with her without putting up a fight, and you were a sensei at a dojo. You could her own against the best even Kate herself couldn't best you in hand-to-hand combat. The apartment would be in shambles if you were kidnapped.

Kate realized she wasn't getting anywhere letting her mind run wild with all the endless possibilities. It hit her that a simple phone call to you would clear this whole situation up, and put her nerves at ease. She dug her cellphone out of her jacket pocket, and dialed your phone number. The five seconds it took for the ringing to start were an eternity to her. Waiting for relief to flood her body at the sound of your voice, Kate almost failed to hear the distant music coming from outside. Your familiar ringtone could be heard just a few feet away but it was slightly muffled. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on the window leading to the fire-escape. Her cellphone clattered to the ground at the sight before her.

Outside the window standing on the fire-escape with your phone held up in her hand. So Kate could see it clear as day stood the girl with the wolf mask with her sword strapped to her back. Her eyes widened in fear before squinting in anger. The girl wasted no time in pocketing your phone and flying up the stairs with incredible speed. Kate dashed over to retrieve her bow and arrows located in the duffel bag on the floor. Before pursuing the girl who was practically her nemesis at this point. She could hear the criminal's hurried footsteps above her implying that she was headed for the roof.

All she could think about was you standing on the ledge of the roof with your hans secured behind your back. Your body too gripped by terror for you to try and escape. You would be freaking out trying to figure what was going on. The girl in the wolf mask kicking you off the ledge sending you to your death below.

"I'm coming y/n" Kate whispered under her breath picking up the pace.

But when she finally did reach the top of the roof instead finding you tied up dangling over the edge. The only person present was the girl in the wolf mask on the other side with her back to Kate staring up at the night sky.

Kate looked around to see if she had stashed you anywhere else, but there was not a single trace of you. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and notched it. "I'm going to give you one chance to tell me where she is?"

You glanced over your shoulder making eye contact with Kate through your mask. Wondering if she would see right past your defenses to unveil the agony in your eyes.

Kate pulled back on the arrow bringing it up to aim at right at your heart. "I'm serious turn around and take off your mask."

It was ironic how just a couple of weeks ago the two of you were lying in each other's arms professing your love for each other, and she gifted you a necklace with a arrow through a heart. Now here she was pointing a real arrow at your real heart ready to strike you down. Maybe you should saw the necklace as a warning for the future.

You continued to stare up at the sky admiring the beautiful view, and letting the cool air wash over you creating a false illusion of peace. You wanted to stay like this for just a little longer, because after this peace will just be a foreign concept to you.

"Now no more games" Kate demanded impatiently. Her fingers tightening their grip on the arrow, as her bowstring started to strain from the pressure. "I'm not going to say it again."

You took a deep breath and exhaled before turning around to finally face her. "Calm down Katie there’s no need for that."

"I told you not-" Kate started to chastise you for using her nickname that was only reserved for you. When she realized that you hadn't used a voice distorter to disguise your voice like last time. But that wasn't what threw her into shock.

What had her grip on the arrow loosening until finally she brought the bow to her side was that. She recognized the voice behind the mask.

It was yours.

"Y/N" Kate breathed in utter disbelief.

You brought your hand to pull the mask up and over the back of your head revealing your face. Her face went through a wide range of emotions over the span of ten seconds. As she tried to process the truth at first it was shock which twisted into anger that only lasted for a brief second. Before confusion took over as she tried to piece together any signs. That she might've missed when the two of you fought last time, and then came betrayal. The final emotion.

"Hi Katie."

Tag List: @danveration @yelenabelovasgf @romanoffomixam @xxromanoffxx @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mellowladyangel @musicinourlips @natashasilverfox @jokertgkk @catswag22 @be-missed @lizlil @kacka84 @acutenobody @screechcat @itbeila @supercorpdanbeau @jimicantaffordtherapy

[pink-tonic]

A New Start?🔪

Previous

Next

All Chapters

Warnings: Stalking

Text message labels:

Bold = Ayato

Red text = Info-Chan

Additional Notes: Hey! I'm sorry for my short absence from posting! School has been crazy as of lately and it's taken up most of my time. But I'm back and making more chapters!!! Hopefully I'll get back on track with posting, but thank you agian for sticking with me this long!!🩷🩷

My eyes open up, and I'm met with a brighter world. The slight dullness is gone, and I can now see the brightness of the world once again.

I let out a yawn and stretch, but I don't get up. Instead, I cuddle up to my blankets and embrace their warmth.

I start to imagine that my blankets are someone. I'm not imagining Taeko, instead my mind is filled with thoughts of (Y/N).

I can't help but smile at my thoughts of him. I cuddle further into my blankets, and I imagine that (Y/N) is right next to me.

In my mind, he is still sleeping comfortably, and his back is turned to me. I pull him closer to me, and I can feel his back up against my chest. I look down at his face, and he is at peace. He looks handsome and everything I could ever want.

The thought is a nice one, and one I need to make come true soon. I can't keep living without him. I need him by my side.

This motivation causes me to get out of bed and start to get ready for school.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

On my walk to school, I decide to use this time to text Info. It's been a few days since I've texted her, but I need her help more than ever.

I need your help.

Oh? Where did you go for the past week?

I'm sure you know.

How clever. I do know.

But I need your help.

Is it about your Senpai?

No.

No? What happened?

I thought you would know already.

I know a lot, but not this. Now, tell me I must know.

I've switched my focus.

Really? To who then?

To (Y/N).

I should have seen this coming eventually. But what do you want me to do?

Give me any new information about people who are getting close to him, just like how you did for Taeko.

Of course. As long as you are willing to help me.

What is it?

I need you to set up more bugs.

Where?

Anywhere you haven't yet, but I want your first target to be the infirmary.

Why?

Because there is a new nurse. The old one had to take care of something, so I think it's about time you bug that area.

Okay, I'll get it done soon.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

When I make it to school, I decide that I would set the bugs during lunch. But for right now, I want to look over (Y/N).

When I was still in love with Taeko, I didn't do a great job watching over her. But when it comes to (Y/N), the same won't happen.

I'll watch over every last move he makes.

I wait by the lockers to see if he is going to come. I eventually see him with Taro and Taeko, but something unusual happens. The three of them rush past the lockers, not bothering to switch out of their outdoor shoes. They then make their way to the nurse's office.

Once they get into the office, I decide to go over as well. I go over to the nurse's office and try my best not to make anyone suspicious of my actions.

Unfortunately, when I make it to the nurse's office the door is closed. One of them must have closed it once they were all inside.

I decide to take a seat and wait for them to come out.

Ten minutes pass by, and eventually, the door opens up. Taeko and Taro come out, but (Y/N) doesn't.

I decide to take a peek inside of the nurse's office since now the door is wide open. I look inside, and I can hear a bit of the conversation (Y/N) is having.

I'm not able to get too close, but from what I hear, the new nurse needs help.

(Y/N) accepts to help him and then leaves. Before (Y/N) can see me, I quickly go the opposite direction.

While I walk away, I think of the new information that I now have.

I guess bugging the nurse's office will be more worthwhile than I thought.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It's lunchtime, and I can't wait to set up the bag. Since (Y/N) is now going to spend more time in the nurse's office, I'll get to find out more information about him.

I quickly go over to the nurse's office and open up the door. I take a quick look inside, and I notice that the nurse isn't inside of his office. He must have gone to eat his lunch.

I quickly look around the room and then close the door behind me. I take out the bug that Info gave me, and I go over to the nurse's desk and place it underneath it. I then go over to one of the beds and place a bug underneath it.

While I'm getting up from crouching down, I hear the door slide open. I can feel my heart slightly stop.

I can hear the person let out a 'Hmmm...'

I turn around, and I'm met with one of the student council members. I notice that it's Aoi Ryugoku, who is one of the most feared student council members. Her vibrant blue hair, poor posture, and eyepatch would make you think she was one of the delinquents. But her white and red uniform, and red armband all indicate that she is a part of the student council.

Ryugoku looks at me before turning around and walking out the other door and closing it.

Once she leaves, I can't help but frown. I always hated the student council members. I thought they were nuisances and another obstacle in my way.

I walk out of the nurse's office, not wanting to linger further in it.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I decide to stay after school today, but I don't stay for my club. Instead, I'm staying for (Y/N). I was waiting for him to leave, so I could follow him, but he never showed up. I then figured out that he went to the nurse's office.

I decide to stay after school to do my cleaning duty. It's been weeks since I've done any cleaning, and I'm surprised I haven't gotten in trouble yet, but I should start cleaning now before I do.

I make sure to clean near the nurse's office so I can see once (Y/N) leaves.

I sweep the same surface and wait patiently for him to come out. I wish I could see inside, but the bug I planted will give me an advantage.

While I'm down the hallway, I hear a door slide open. I turn my head, and I see (Y/N) walking out of the nurse's office.

A smile starts to form on my face when a realization hits me. (Y/N) doesn't have anyone to walk home with. He is going to walk home by himself.

I quickly leave to put the mop and bucket away. I put them in the bathroom, but I don't bother to dump the water or clean the mop. Someone else can take care of that. Because right now, I need to take care of (Y/N).

I go over to the lockers, and I see him closing his locker and walking out of the school. I quickly change out of my indoor shoes and into my outdoor ones. I close my locker and follow him.

I make sure to keep a safe distance from him, but I also make sure that I'm not too far away. I follow him, but sadly, he doesn't do anything interesting. But that can also be a good thing. He just goes straight home.

I decide to leave before (Y/N) can go inside. I don't want him to turn around at the last second and spot me.

I start my own walk back home.

[fa-by]

Did you miss me?

Hey my babies 👋🏼🤗. How are you? Wow, has it really been that long? It's been 1 year and 2 months apparently and it doesn't seem so 😅. I feel like a part of me should apologize for the absence, so I'm sorry 🙏🏼 but, to be completely honest, the other part of me doesn't want to justify because this is just an app we use to distract ourselves from the reality of daily life 🤭🤣. So, for those who have been wondering, my recap is that I'm 31 now, I've been unhealthy/sick for several things, last year I grieved for my baby girl dog who passed away after 12 years (and who took a piece of my soul with her), I changed my job and I’m being mobbed by my boss every day 😅. The several most important good news? I adopted a beautiful puppy girl in September of this year 😍🤩 and my girlfriend whom you also know well came to me here in Italy twice; once for three months last year, and once for our 2-year anniversary this year by staying for almost a month ❤🥰😍🤩. Oh and, of course, I've started writing again as of today. This obviously has to be put among the good news 🤣. I won't hide from you that I've missed writing, so here I am, although I can't promise that I'll be very active in answering the asks as before due to my various commitments, but I'll try to be here more often 😉.

P.S. I'll only post the 6 most recent asks I've received because I didn't want to create a way too long post, but thanks to everyone for the recent and past messages (even last year's ones) ❤🙏🏼.

You broke my heart with that emoji 🥺. I'm here, dear @sweet-dreamcs​ ❤.

I'm here, my dear Anon 😄. I'm all ears 👂🏼 and I've missed all of you too.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄, I answered about my health in the recap at the beginning of the post, thanks for your concern 🤗. I'm fine now, how are you? I hope well 😊.

I do still ship Camren, how could I not? 🤣 I'll ship them forever 😜. And yeah, I saw Laur's new “relationship”, if you want to call it that. I, on the other hand, like to call it for what it is: PR. And that I think explains my thoughts about it 😉.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 well thank you, my dear Anon😄. I like being right 😉. No, I'm just kidding no, I'm not 🤣. Joking aside now, I've already told you guys in the past that everything I post comes from the research I do and that therefore I post only the truth with proofs.

Anyway, yeah I'm not interested in the version with Señorito 😑, I'm just waiting for Mila's undistorted one now. Oh and, my dear? I'm ready for the thousand questions 🤣.

I'm here, dear Anon 😄. As you said yourself, they're both PRs, so don't worry. And I mean it for real. I don't know how I could reassure you guys any better than that since you already know how it works. It's not the first time we've endured it and it certainly won't be the last. Be strong as always, my dear 💪🏼. Don't talk about them around on social media because that's what they want, and hang on. That's my advice, my dear.

Hey to you, dear Anon 👋🏼😄, and I'm okay now. Thanks for asking and I hope you're okay too 😊. Well, how can I answer your question correctly? 🤔🤔

The answer is in your question itself, my dear 🤣. What happened at Coachella and that we saw all over the internet is shit 💩. Yet another display of poor acting. It's as simple as this 🤣. No but, for real. They're simply testing the waters and creating havoc, aka publicity, before Mila's debut with the new label. That's it 🤷🏻‍♀️. Nothing new. Ignore them as I do.

‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍

I thank everyone for your concern for me and for continuing to write to me and wanting me back 🥰. I also thank you for the asks and I hope I've been helpful this time too 🙃. I'm always available for those who have questions, so feel free to ask 😄. Aaaand let's bring back my tradition, shall we? 👅.

Remember to be nice. Always. Both with others and with yourselves. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Don't let our ship sink. Keep shipping them, but please respectfully 🙏🏼. Sending you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗. I love you, babies. Always with love, F❤️.

[idolish7imagines]

Hiii could I request imagines for Tenn and Momo x Reader and what they’d do if they were stuck in the rain? Thank you🤍

Tenn and Momo with an s\o stuck in the rain

A\N: I hope you enjoy these! Sorry it took a while

.::.

Kujo Tenn

"Agh, you're definitely going to get sick. Let me take your temperature."

Your boyfriend heads to the bathroom cabinet with a sigh, looking over the shelves to see where the thermometer was.

Since you'd been slightly shaking (though you'd been trying to hide it so he wouldn't get even more concerned) there was a pink blanket thoughtfully draped over your shoulders by him so you could warm up.

That morning you'd nearly been running late for work, so you headed out without checking the forecast, which turning out to be to you dismay prompting the absence of an umbrella you desperately needed as it almost violently started to pour down right before you got off work.

Fortunately Tenn spotted you as he was walking home from the store, your job was conveniently nearby and you were standing under a roof at the entrance of your job's building praying that the rain would at least let up soon. To make matters worse you were even wearing short sleeves.

After your temperature is taken, he looks at the number on the thermometer, shaking his head.

"..is it bad?" You attempt to lean over to look.

"Not as bad as I expected it to be, but still." He frowns. "You should take an umbrella with you whether you're sure its going to rain or not." He scolds you.

You could only hold your head down and nod. There wasn't much you could say back to that, he had a point.

There a pause for a moment, and he leaves the room again.

Because of you being too cold and wet to think, you hadn't yet thanked him for walking you back to his house. Letting out a small hum while glancing around his room while you sat in his chair, you decide you'd do so once you got more settled. It was still pouring outside after all, so you weren't in a rush to leave.

Tenn returns with a small portable heater and a towel. Running water was heard from the bathroom.

"I'm going to wash your clothes while you take a bath, and then you can lie down next to this heater." He places it on the nightstand next to his bed.

You blink, looking at it and then into his pink eyes in slight surprise.

"Oh Tenn you really don't have to do all this, I'm fine right here." A fond smile crept onto your face.

"I don't mind. Besides, if your clothes are wet, not only will you be more likely to get sick from wearing it for a long time but you'll get my chair and blanket wet." He reasons with a stoic expression.

You have half a mind to give a half lidded stare back at him, but either way he had a point. Getting up from the chair, you neatly fold the blanket before heading to the bathroom.

"Thank you for everything tonight Tenn." You finally get a chance to say before walking in.

"Of course." You couldn't see it, but there was a small smile on his face.

Momo

Unfortunately you only have your work briefcase to hold over your head to shield you from the harsh rain as you began your commute home. It didn't help much, as the freezing droplets still hit the rest of your skin and clothes, but it was something. Your ride cancelled at the last minute and there were no taxis nearby.

You had barely noticed someone holding an umbrella walking past you, who soon stopped and did a double take in your direction, turning around.

"D−Darling?" A familiar voice is heard from them, and you finally look up from your downcast gaze you'd had since beginning this walk.

The rain stopped piercing your skin as there was now an umbrella held over your head.

"..Momo?" You blink a few times in shock.

"Where's your umbrella?" His tone is more concerned and worried than scolding, as he puts a hand on your back and continues walking with you to your house.

Once you're home, Momo walks inside with you, closing his umbrella and taking off his jacket.

"...Sorry, I should've asked first, but its too rough out there to just trudge through it all over again." He lets out a short chuckle. "Do you mind if I rest here for a minute?"

"Sure, go ahead. I owe you for walking me home." You begin taking off your own incredibly damp jacket, going to put both his and yours on the coat rack.

Thankfully his clothes weren't nearly as wet as yours, so you wouldn't complain when he sat on your couch.

"This is a little romantic, we're rained in together!" Momo jokes.

"I think the trope is being snowed in." You correct, letting out a small laugh while you made a hot drink for both of you to have to warm up.

"Still, its a good excuse to cuddle." He pauses, before dramatically gasping. "Do you think we were meant to conveniently be heading the same way?"

"Either way, its better than being rained on. And you saved me. So a win win." You smile at him. "Now go get the blanket off my bed so we can cuddle like you want."

[dreamlandreader]

Ghost of You - Chapter Two

A/n: Thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter! Every like, comment and reblog meant so much to me! If anyone would like to be added to the series tag list just let me know ❤️ I’m so sorry I haven’t updated sooner than now, I found out shortly after posting the first chapter that I got my dream job and I have had so much paperwork to get through before I can start on Monday. Once I’ve settled into the new routine I’ll be able to set up a better schedule for posting so there hopefully won’t be so long between posts! Anyway, happy reading! 💖

Chapter warnings: Memory loss, angst, very brief discussion of injuries

Prythian

5 Months Later

Amren was not an anxious being. She felt rage and lust, irritation and satisfaction. Very occasionally, she even felt admiration, but she did not feel anxiety. However, the last five months had begun to push her towards the brink of worry.

It had been five months since her High Lord and Lady were stolen away in the middle of the day from right under her nose. Five months since the Morrigan had arrived at the River House to find it empty and reeking of blood. Five months since the entire Night Court had gone to hell.

She still couldn’t understand it. How someone had outsmarted her High Lord, the tactical expert who was always a step ahead of his enemies. How they had managed to leave seemingly unscathed when faced with Feyre Archeron, the human turned fae with the power of seven high lords. Nothing about that day made sense, and the unknown made Amren uneasy.

It did not make it any easier that Amren had been prepared for something like this to happen. She was second in command for a reason. Rhysand had chosen her because she was a reliable member of his court who was not afraid to make hard decisions and sacrifices for the sake of her home. Despite this, Feyre and Rhys’s absence was having an increasingly profound effect upon the Night Court, and Amren was slowly beginning to lose her handle on the situation.

It was not like the last time, when Rhysand was under the mountain for half a century. Then, all of Prythian was suffering, no court was left unscathed, and therefore, there was no strife between courts. Internal conflict with the Illyrians and the Court of Nightmares was, for once, not so prevalent, and on the rare occasions trouble did rear its head, rebellion was easily quashed. This time, however, trouble stirs deep in the underbelly of the Night Court. Rumors swirl of Rhysand and Feyre’s disappearance, some speculating that they abandoned their court and its people because they believed a war was brewing once again. The Illyrians took that idea and elaborated upon it considerably, seizing the opportunity to dispute Rhysand’s claim as High Lord, pointing out his inadequacies, and sowing seeds of doubt amongst themselves and Night Court citizens alike.

Hewn City residents were being equally as troublesome. Despite being banished to life in the Court of Nightmares, numerous Hewn City fae have been spotted wandering the Night Court, causing damage to property, starting brawls, and injuring innocent bystanders. Chasing these incidents has possessed the majority of the Inner Circle’s time, which has made searching for Feyre and Rhysand even more difficult.

Trying to find them had been like locating a needle in a haystack. The scene upon which Mor had stumbled on that day provided only a few clues. The tang of blood wafted heftily through the air, broken glass littered the kitchen floor, and a suspicious black powder dusted the dark oak countertops. Azriel’s contact at the local apothecary provided intel that the powder was a highly protected substance, one only available to those with the highest clearance due to its abuse in previous centuries by criminals. The intended use of the powder is for aiding sleep, and works when a small amount is mixed into a tonic. However, when inhaled in larger amounts, the effects of the powder lead to drowsiness and temporary vision loss, suggesting that Feyre and Rhysand were blinded by their attackers, and that the incident was anything but a fair fight.

“I still don’t understand how they got past the wards,” Azriel puzzled, breaking Amren out of her thoughts and plunging her back into the river house dining room, which, in recent months, had become the Inner Circles meeting room.

“Rhysand must have made a mistake. Left a gap in the wards, or not noticed a weak patch somewhere,” Nesta replied, staring intently at the map of the River House in the middle of the table, considering, as they all had over the months, where things went wrong.

“Rhys wouldn’t do that. He’s not stupid. And he wouldn’t risk Feyre’s safety knowing they have a huge target on their backs,” Mor snapped. The longer this mystery dragged on, the worse the tension in the Inner Circle became. Tempers were rising, and as time ticked on, the stakes were getting higher and higher.

“I’m not criticising him,” Nesta retorted, “I’m just saying that everyone makes mistakes.”

“Not Rhys. Not with this,” stated Mor, who refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Look, we need to focus on finding out who did it. If we find them, we find Feyre and Rhysand,” Amren insisted. She was sick of it. The questioning. The not knowing. But, sitting around debating what may or may not have happened was not getting them anywhere.

“There is nothing to go by! We’ve spent months and months going over the same few clues, and we’ve still come up with nothing,” Cassian growled.

“Well, what do you want to do boy, give up?” Amren glared in Cassian’s direction, as he shrunk in his seat and began shaking his head profusely.

“No! I would never give up on finding them. If it took three centuries, I’d keep searching. But we need a better plan. What we are doing isn’t working. Sitting around here day after day bickering amongst ourselves is useless!”

“He’s right,” argued Elain, speaking out for the first time that day. “Turning on each other isn’t going to help, and we have been going over and over this with a fine toothcomb for weeks and still come up with nothing. We seriously need to think about reaching out to the other courts for help.”

“No,” Amren scowled.

“Amren, please!” Mor begged. They had been trying to convince her of this for weeks. Bringing in members of outside courts. Asking for their assistance, for their best minds and their advice. No matter what they said, everytime Amren’s answer remained the same.

“I said no. It’s bad enough that the Illyrians and Hewn City are using this as an opportunity to cause problems. We are not letting the other courts know how seriously this is impacting the Night Court. If Autumn knew how bad things have become, they would take every advantage against us.”

“We aren’t suggesting we talk to Beron, but Helion has already offered his assistance in any way possible. A fresh set of eyes might be exactly what we need. We know him. We can trust him. Rhys and Feyre trust him!” Mor protested.

“This remains a Night Court issue. We will not lean on other courts unless we become desperate. Helion may be a trustworthy ally, but how do we know that one of his court members isn’t responsible for this.”

“The Illyrians are spreading lies about our High Lord and Lady which half of the court is starting to believe. Hewn City residents freely walk our streets causing chaos everywhere they go. Our friends are gone, and we have no idea where to even start Amren. It’s been five months. It can’t get much more desperate than this,” Azriel pleaded, and was met with a hard stare.

“I’ll think about it,” Amren mumbled. The entire room sighed, but they knew better than to argue. From Amren, an I’ll think about it was the best they would ever get.

The meeting continued for a further two hours, with Cassian reporting back on his trouble keeping the Illyrians in check, and Azriel interjecting with his own issues locating missing Hewn City members. Elain informed the group of her success in sourcing a group of trusty elderly Night Court fae to keep watch for any suspicious activity, and Nesta detailed the searches that the Valkyries and Mor had performed that week along the southern border in their efforts to locate Feyre and Rhysand.

After delegating a series of tasks to each member of the Inner Circle, Amren finally called the meeting to an end, and everyone slumped out of the river house to get started on their orders as soon as possible. Morale was at an all-time low, and the clock was ticking on their opportunity to find Rhysand and Feyre.

Glancing across the dining room, Amren’s eyes fell upon the portrait that hung above the smooth marble fireplace. Shortly before their disappearance, Feyre had presented Rhysand with a painting of the Inner Circle, crafted from a memory of them all sitting around the dinner table, drinking, laughing. Rhys and his mate were front and center, and he was looking towards her with a level of adoration that one would assume impossible to achieve unless they had seen it with their own eyes.

Amren’s head was beginning to ache. The one thing that comforted her was that she knew Rhysand and Feyre were at least alive. If not, the magic of the Night Court would have already assigned someone else the role of High Lord or Lady. For now, they remained living, but she was well aware that did not necessarily mean they were safe, or that they weren’t on borrowed time. Amren felt the weight of her decisions heavily on her shoulders, and the pressure was starting to become unbearable.

Rhysand

Scotland, United Kingdom

Rhysand flipped the flimsy sign from open to closed and started checking off his nightly tasks. Every evening for the last five months had been the same. Close up. Check. Wipe the tables. Check. Mop the floors, take out the bins, and empty the dishwasher. Check. Check. Check.

However, despite the monotony, Rhysand was unbelievably grateful to Doug and Jenny for not only giving him a place to stay whilst he got back on his feet, but also trusting him to work at their beloved cafe. The Humble Pie was a quaint spot, which specialized in delicious homemade fruit pastries and a variety of fancy herbal teas. Jenny had a knack for baking, and after retiring, she decided it was finally time to follow her dream and open a place of her own with Doug to share her delightful creations. It didn’t pay a lot, but it was enough that within a few months Rhysand was able to rent a small flat around the corner, and even put away a few savings for a rainy day.

Rhysand was well aware that he owed the Caldwells a lot. If it wasn’t for them he had no idea where he would have ended up. The thought often occurred to him - mainly in the middle of the night - that the woman he heard crying out in his memory of the attack may not be so lucky. Was she alone? Was she scared? Did she have any memories of that night? Or, like Rhysand, was she living with scraps of memories that haunted her. Every time the girl came to mind, Rhysand’s stomach twisted. After months he still couldn’t shake the pain that echoed through his body at the thought of her in danger. It was a strange reaction, something he was well aware of, which is how he knew she must be important. There is no way his very soul would ache so violently at the mere thought of a stranger. No, she was different, and Rhysand had made it his mission to find her.

Today was Friday, the one day a week that Rhysand’s search for the anonymous girl from his dreams was put on pause due to his boss’s obsession with getting him to socialise. On Friday’s, Doug insisted that he walked Rhysand home and they shared a few beers and a takeaway. Rhysand was not a fan of beer, and leaving his research untouched for the whole night was always a real struggle, but this was the compromise Doug had offered forward after Rhys continually turned down his invites to join his birdwatching club. So, for Doug’s sake Rhys held off from obsessing over articles and reports for one night a week.

Walking into Rhysand’s flat, Doug stalled near the sofa, taking in the state the flat had become. Each week he visited, Doug observed how research was strewn across the coffee table and occasionally lined the walls, but it seemed as though Rhysand had taken it to another level. An explosion of papers lined every surface. Some sheets were covered with hurried annotations, others were severely dog-eared, and a rather large pile appeared to have scorch marks along one side. The place was a wreck, and the sad thing was that Rhysand didn’t even seem to care. Doug didn’t think that Rhys was a particularly messy person by nature. He was always presentable, and even appeared to have a habit of consistently checking his clothes for lint, but his obsession with solving the mystery of the girl from his memories was taking over his life.

Two months after he woke up in that alleyway, Rhysand had become tired of waiting for the police to find any leads on what happened to him. With very little information and no one coming forward to report Rhysand missing, there wasn’t much they could do, so Rhys’s case was pushed to the bottom of the pile for more pressing matters. The final nail in the coffin was when Rhysand insisted that they needed to search for the woman whose screams he remembered, concerned she could still be in trouble, but as his memory was so shaky and there was no evidence of anyone else missing or injured in the area, it was written off by police and doctors alike that the woman was likely just a part of his mind playing tricks on him, a side effect of his memory loss. After that, Rhys took the situation into his own hands.

“Jeez Rhys, what the hell happened in here. I swear these papers multiply every time I come round,”

“Yeah, things are a bit chaotic at the moment,” Rhysand said, quickly swiping some research from the sofa before Doug threw himself down. “But I swear I’m right on the cusp of something.”

“Why does half of it look like it was set on fire?” Doug enquired, looking pointedly at the singed pile.

“Ah, that would be because it almost was. I wasn’t getting anywhere with it, so I thought about throwing it into the fire. I didn’t, but I got a little close, and it caught alight. Nearly burnt my fingertips off with that one,” Rhys chuckled nervously.

“So, you’re still intent on finding the girl then?”

“Look Doug, I know you think I’m crazy, but I-”

“Hey I don’t,” Doug interrupted, “Extremely disorganised and slightly obsessive sure, but I get it. If I was in the same situation, I can’t say I wouldn’t drown myself in paperwork to figure out who I was too,”

Rhys hummed looking down at his feet, knowing exactly what was coming. This was not the first time that Doug had tried to have this conversation.

“Do you not think you should take a little break from it though? You know, come back with fresh eyes and all that?”

“No,” Rhys replied firmly.

“No?”

“I do that, and I might miss something, and anyway, I can’t waste time. She could be in trouble, and I need to know who I am,”

“You know you might have more luck if you tried the internet. I know you’re more old school and seem to be weirdly bad at technology, but you could check through stuff so much faster online,” Doug suggested.

“I don’t know,” Rhys replied, skeptical about tackling the web again.

Doug had tried to set Rhys up with a phone the first week he lived with him, but technology was clearly not his strong suit. For some reason, Rhys was incredibly intimidated by the internet and still hadn’t come to terms with the TV, never mind texting or searching for things on Google.

“You’ll be able to check a much bigger area, much faster. All this research is local news. You never know, she might be further afield,”

“Fine. But you’ll have to help me,” Rhys gave in.

After half an hour of vigorous searching on Doug’s phone, they came across an interesting article from only three months prior.

“Young Woman Appeals to Find Family After Memory Loss Shock. 

Two months ago, a young woman believed to be in her early twenties was found injured and unconscious on the streets of New York City, after what police presume was a robbery gone wrong. After being rushed to a nearby hospital, it was soon discovered that she was suffering from amnesia and could not recall her own name, history, or anything relating to the incident. 

It was believed initially that the victim's family would eventually contact police about her whereabouts, especially considering she was found wearing an engagement ring. However, no family has ever come forward, leaving detectives to believe that the victim could have potentially lost contact with her loved ones shortly before the incident. The woman - who is currently known as Jane Doe - is now appealing nationwide for any potential friends or family to come forward to identify her.”

Rhysand was holding his breath. The dates aligned. This woman was found on the exact day that Rhys was discovered unconscious in the alleyway. Skimming through the rest of the article, Rhys was desperate to find any information to prove that it wasn’t just a weird coincidence, when a small photograph amidst the writing caught his attention.

A young woman with beautiful blue eyes stared back from Doug’s phone, and Rhys could have sworn his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He knew her. He didn’t know how, but he recognized the blush on her cheeks, the delicate shape of her lips, the swirling tattoos that graced her arms and hands. Rhysand knew her in his soul, and at that moment her name simply fell from his lips.

“Feyre,” Rhys gasped.

The name reverberated around his body. Feyre. He knew her. He had found her. Images began to flood his mind. Broken and twisted, but there nonetheless. Feyre angry, throwing something his way. Feyre embracing him with a tenderness he felt in his very bones. Feyre holding his hand, a dazzling ring adorning her finger. Dancing. Making love to him. Laughing. Crying. Feyre. Feyre. His Feyre. 

“What?” Asked Doug, surprised.

“It’s her. That girl, that’s her. I - I remember,” tears were spilling from Rhysand’s eyes, and he was so overwhelmed he didn’t care he was breaking down in front of his friend for the first time since his ordeal had begun.

“What, you remember everything?”

“No, I remember her. Not anything specific, and it’s all a jumbled mess, but its there. Doug I’ve found her,”

“Rhys are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, when I said she might be further afield, I meant Edinburgh or maybe even Glasgow at a push. I didn’t mean three thousand miles away. It’s impossible that it’s more than a coincidence, surely?”

“Doug. I know it in my soul. It is her.” Rhys retorted, desperately refusing to let go of the hope which blossomed in his chest.

“Okay, okay I believe you,” Doug replied quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. Rhys wasn’t so sure he really did, but he was too focused on the situation at hand to continue pleading his case.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I have to go. I have to find her.” Rhys cried, running his fingers through his dark hair in frustration.

“You want to go to New York. Just like that. Rhys, you really need to think this through. You don’t know where this girl lives. Do you even have a passport?”

“No. I don’t know where she lives, but look at the bottom it says to contact a … Detective Bailey,” Rhys said squinting at the rest of the article. “This detective will know how to find her. If I can get to see her then maybe she’ll take me to Feyre. She’s looking for family, and I’m … well, I’m obviously something to her.”

“But-”

“And the passport thing is fine. The police sorted me out with all that stuff when I first woke up,”

“Look, Rhys, I really don’t think you’re thinking this through,”

“I need you to trust me. Please!” Doug took in the look of genuine hope in Rhysand’s eyes and knew he couldn’t bring himself to take that away.

“Okay. Alright, I trust you.”

Doug spent the next hour helping to plan what Rhys should do next, he helped book the plane tickets and even offered him a ride to the airport the next day.

After Doug left for the night, Rhysand stood by the window, staring out at the glistening lights in the night sky. For the first time since waking up, Rhys felt like he could look to the stars and dream.

Feyre (aka Jane Doe)

New York, USA

“Damn it, I can’t do it,” cried Frank slamming his brush down onto the paint-splattered work table and crossing his arms in defiance.

“Hey, Frank what’s the matter? You’re doing so well,” Jane responded gently, sitting down by the disgruntled pensioner.

“How am I supposed to paint a damn picture when I can’t keep my arms still!” Frank huffed.

“I know it’s difficult, and you’re still building up your strength, but that’s okay. These sessions are to help you do that,” Jane advised, placing her tattooed hand comfortingly over Frank’s. “It’s frustrating not to be able to jump back up and do everything with the ease you used to, but you just need to take your time.”

Jane had been working at the art therapy center since she had been discharged from their services two months prior. Her doctors had recommended art therapy to help Jane heal her mind and potentially stir some memories. While it didn’t appear to conjure anything new recollection-wise, she had found art to be an incredible escape from the anxiety she felt nagging her all hours of the day.

After unsuccessfully appealing in a national newspaper, and also online, for any information on potential family members, the distraction of painting helped to ease some of the ache in her soul. After seeing Jane’s aptitude for painting and her willingness to help other patients, the therapist in charge offered her the opportunity to help run art therapy sessions, and she hadn’t looked back since.

Frank had been one of her first patients. He had come in after suffering from a stroke, and his doctors were hopeful that art sessions would help to improve his physical condition. Jane had bonded with the man immediately. He had made vast strides already, but she understood his irritation with the knowledge that he wasn’t progressing as quickly as he would like.

“How about you and me take a quick coffee break and then try again in a while, huh? I brought your favorite cookies!” Jane singsonged.

“Oh, go on, you know how to tempt me,” Frank chuckled as Jane led him out to the break room.

Half an hour later, when Frank was stuffed full of Oreos and had settled back down to his canvas, Jane wandered over to a client she had never seen before.

Erica was young, maybe only a year or two older than Jane herself, and she was dressed in the loveliest shade of lilac Jane had ever seen. It wasn’t her appearance however which stopped Jane in her tracks, but the painting which sat before her. An expanse of pastel-coloured roses, violets, and begonias, amongst other delicate florals graced the canvas, and something about the soft warmth of the gardens before her, sent Jane into a tailspin. Jane was immediately transported into what could only be a memory. She was surrounded by creaky wooden walls that let in the bitter cold of winter. Her hands had gone numb in the short while she had been painting, and crouching at such odd angles had stiffened her limbs. Before her sat an old dresser with three distinct drawers, which Jane had spent the evening decorating. One was consumed by red and orange flames, another adorned with the night sky, and the last … the last was covered with little flowers, just like those in Erica’s painting. They were much more crudely drawn, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Please, I swear I’ll keep it clean this time!” A voice begged. Soft and gentle as a feather in the breeze. Jane recognized the warm lilt, but she just couldn’t put her finger on exactly who the voice belonged to.

“Absolutely not. The last time you borrowed my cloak, it came back covered in soil. I’m not lending you any of my clothes if you insist on gardening in them!” Another voice argued. It was far more stern than the last one, leaving little room for argument. The determined tone of the second speaker left something aching in Jane’s chest. She knew this voice too. But how?

“Well, mine finally fell apart this morning. I need something to stop me from freezing to death while I weed the garden,” the first person uttered, frustration lacing their voice.

“I’m not your only sister you know. Ask Feyre for hers.”

Jane felt as though her heart had jumped into her mouth. At that exact moment, something within her stirred, and she recalled two things, the first things she had remembered about herself since the day she lost her memory. First, was that she had sisters, two of them! Somewhere out there, a family of her own. The second was that her name was not the hospital-assigned Jane Doe, but Feyre Archeron.

Finishing her shift with her nerves all over the place, Feyre practically ran out of the door and back home to her cramped apartment. Rushing into her bedroom, she grabbed the nearest blank canvas, and began to desperately paint the drawers from her memory in the fear that the vision would fade from view. An hour and a half later, covered head to toe in paint, Feyre stared longingly at the image before her and finally allowed herself to let out a sob.

Tears streaming down her face, Feyre reached into the drawer of her wonky bedside table and carefully located a cloth-bound object. Gently unwrapping the purple fabric, a small but stunning ring fell into the palm of her shaking hand.

She had a family. Sisters, and by the looks of it a partner. So why had they still not come to find her? The past five months had been filled with hope after hope shattered. First, the discovery of a mystery lover who never showed up. Then, her appeal for her family to come forward came to nothing too. Feyre initially wondered if she didn’t have any family at all, maybe that was the reason nobody had tried to find her. However, this latest revelation suggested that she did have a family, but they clearly weren’t interested in locating her.

A burning knot formed in Feyre’s chest. Why wouldn’t they come? Was she a terrible person in her past life? Had she done something that caused everyone she once knew to turn away from her?

Looking through her bedroom window at the few stars that cut through the city’s light pollution, Feyre tried to control her breathing and tucked away her heartbreak for another day. The lack of starlight caused a strange sense of discomfort in Feyre’s gut, as though some part of her knew she belonged in a land that thrived under ethereal skies.

Feyre sat for hours, staring out of that window, completely unaware that three thousand miles away, the love of her life was also enduring the torture of missing a life he barely remembered.

[call-me-copycat]

Hello everyone! I'm terribly sorry for being away for so long! I've been busy with school and looking for a job (plus the awful heat - bleh), but I still wanted to take a moment to thank you all for 400 followers!

I know the number of followers isn't that important on Tumblr, but I still want to reach out to thank everyone who's here! Despite all my absences and delays too, it means so much to me! ✧( ु•⌄• )

I wanted to do an event!

Rules:

Look at the slots and find which ones are still open. If you're the first one then how lucky of you! It's first come first served!

Put in a request with the emoji/genre and the character. Then please tell me what you'd like the short story to be about. Please be as specific as possible (it helps me out), and please just ask for MHA characters. This is all MHA x Reader, it can be romantic or platonic, just please let me know!

You're done! Once I finish the short story then I'll mark the slot as [CLOSED], along with the link to the fic

I'll try my best to make these requests my top priority! I have free time this weekend so I feel I can spend it well (˶ᐢᗜᐢ˶)

If you want a Pick-A-Prompt, then please pick a prompt from the ones I gathered below, and then please tell me the character. Again, please be as specific as possible, it greatly helps!

Please Don't Ask:

Please no character x character

Please no NSFW

No real-life people can be involved in the fic (ex: celebrities, actors, political figures, etc)

I don't write ABO since I don't know anything about it (just putting this here since I got a request for it awhile ago)

No OCs please

Slots:

🍰 Fluff [OPEN]

☕ Angst [OPEN]

🍘 Hurt/Comfort [OPEN]

🍮Childhood Friends [OPEN]

🔪 Yandere [OPEN]

🥠 Pick-A-Prompt 1 [CLOSED - #8]

🥠 Pick-A-Prompt 2 [CLOSED - #4]

🥠 Pick-A-Prompt 3 [OPEN]

Prompts (for Pick-A-Prompt):

"I'm glad you came into my life"

"It scares me what I'm willing to do for you"

"I've been looking for that shirt"

"You better have a really good reason for being out of bed"

" I thought you’d like some company. "

"Do you trust me?"

“I can’t sleep, can we have ice cream?” / “I was about to say that.”

"Why are hiding behind me? What did you do?"

"Do you want my help or not? Cooperate with me here"

"Trust me, I was an extremely irritating child."

♡ ••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ♡ ♡ ••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ♡

Thank you all once again! I hope you enjoy the event, and just so you know I'm going to start writing again soon! The cooler season is making it a bit easier to think properly (=ﾟДﾟ=)

I hope you all have a wonderful day! ヾ(๑╹◡╹)ﾉ"

*P.S: I'm also currently working on those requests! I haven't forgotten about them!*

2023年/09月/03日