#this hole was ripped in the family and they never recovered from it

[imogenkol]

— KOL —

“What about your family?” "I do not remember them. I was surrendered to the Order at a very young age." "You don't know anything?" "Nothing." But that was a lie. Her memory may be unreliable, but the archives at the Temple were not. Imogen once had a mother, a father, even siblings - all of whom she would never get the chance to know. It did not matter anymore and hasn't for a long time. Chasing ghosts was a fool's errand.

[template by @unholymilf]

[clazaries]

Old Love, New Dream (NSFW)

(JonathanLevy! x f!reader)

Summary: Just when you think you've recovered from a debilitating breakup with Jonathan Levy, all those feelings come rushing back when he walks back into your life again as your best friend's boyfriend. w/c: a whopping 10.1k Warnings: angst, Mira is included in this, NSFW; smut, fingering, p in v, oral (fem rec.), eventual fluff a/n: HELLOOOO! I'm back. Sorry took a small hiatus to finish off college and I really struggled to finish the end of this so apologies if it's shit. I also watched a spanish film called a treves de mi ventana (specifically the third one) which I loved and took inspiration from while I was writing this. Anyway hope you enjoy!!!

Fuck Jonathan Levy.

Fuck him and everything he stands for. Fuck him in the past and fuck him in the future. Fuck him and the way he treated you with love in his heart, with stars in his eyes, and with you at the heart of everything he did. Fuck him for being the best boyfriend, partner and friend that anyone could’ve asked for. Fuck him for promising you that it would last forever, that you would always have him for as long as you live. 

Fuck him, especially on that unassuming Tuesday morning when you woke up to sadness on his face, pain behind his eyes and the truth on his lips. Fuck his ‘I think we should take a break, we need to spend time on ourselves, by ourselves.’ Fuck him for making you think that life’s not fair; because how were you to know that after six years of a strong and stable relationship, especially one that guided you hand-in-hand into adulthood, would be ripped from you in a day. 

Fuck him for making you miss him so, so fucking badly to the point where you struggle to get through your day without thinking about him. The countless number of occasions where you’ve had friends and family members tell you so naively to ‘move on’, or to ‘get over him’, or that ‘you don’t miss him, you miss what you had with him.’ 

And in all honesty, they’re exactly right. You can’t bear to reflect upon what could’ve been, so your only alternative is to miss what you had, and therein lies that problem of why he still subconsciously worms his way back into your mind. Because he’s tied to it, intertwined so deeply that he’s the knot you just can’t unravel. 

It’s not like you think about him purposely, in fact, if you had the will-power to compartmentalise everything associated with him into a box, you would lock it and throw away the key. But he left such an imprint on you that in the quietest moments of thought, his name, his face, his eyes and Jesus, even the memory of his scent appears when you least expect it. What’s worse is that they’re good memories, not the ones that broke your heart, not the ones that should be reminding you of how much of an arsehole he is, but the ones that you look back on with nostalgia. 

It took a long time to come to terms that he’ll never be a part of your life again, to shake hands with the devil and accept that he will always be the one that got away. That’s the part that will never leave you. He is the big gaping wound in your heart that will never heal. 

The best you could do was move away to another state, to start afresh with the hopes of finding someone new that could give you everything he did and more. But it’s proven to be a bigger challenge than you anticipated because your desire to find someone capable enough to fill the hole and let it scar has never been satiated. No one, not even in the three years since your break up with Jonathan Levy, has come close.

You had gone for such a long time thinking that this level of pain and heartbreak was exclusive to you only and that there was no one else in this world who could empathise with you. That was until you met your next door neighbour Mira who was shockingly similar to you in every way; broken from a relationship that ended years ago, desperately searching for something or someone to alleviate years of hopeless longing and the need for fulfilment. She was the therapy you always knew you needed and vice versa. There were many nights spent drinking wine, talking about ex-lovers with the same yearning, indulging in each others’ wishes of how they could relive what you both once had. Surprisingly, divulging each others’ woes became a temporary fix to your problem and soon missing him turned from a daily issue to a weekly issue. Now, he’s a quiet thought just once a month. 

But things started to change one night in Mira’s dining room when she announced something you hadn’t seen coming.

She’s got a new boyfriend.

~~~~

You sit there, quietly in shock, at her oak dining table directly across from her, listening as she talks of her newly-established relationship as if she had been blessed by all the godly-deities of every power and religion. 

“You have to meet him,” she says with a mouthful of spaghetti bolognese, “he’s just the sweetest guy.” 

A twinge of bitterness and jealousy has your stomach clenching. “Yeah? Where did you meet him?” 

“I’ve always kind’ve known of him, like, I met him last year when I was travelling for work, but recently we’re just really hit it off.” 

“Do you think it’ll turn into something more serious?” 

The lips of your friendly neighbour beam wider, a subtle coy sparkle evident in her eyes. “I would like to think so, I think we’re both in a really good place.”

“That’s great Mira, I’m happy for you.” 

“I was actually thinking about hosting a dinner with the neighbours, like what we used to do years ago, but I might bring him along this time.” 

“Wow, so really serious then. Must be something really special if you’re willing to dig up an old tradition just for him.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Well you know, I miss those dinners. They were always so much fun. They introduced a lot of new things to us including you, and I feel it would be a good way to introduce him to the street too since they’ll be seeing a lot of him ‘round here in the future.” 

The Maple Avenue dinners were once the highlight of your week, plucked from a suburban neighbourhood’s dream. It was a tradition you inadvertently started when you first moved into the street, a way of getting to know the neighbours around you. Mira, being your next door neighbour was one of the first to receive an invite and was also the one to convince others to join. Surprisingly, the occasion started a chain of events where other neighbours wanted to host their own dinners, play games, chat and share their life over wine. It happened so often that it became a weekly ritual that you all cherished, until organising a roast for ten to fifteen people became too overwhelming, especially for those who had started a family, or who had taken a promotion at work. Having no such responsibilities, you and Mira became the only two to keep the tradition alive.

“I’d like that. Want me to get in touch with the neighbours?” 

“I’ll handle it.”

Two weeks pass and the Friday you have been silently dreading finally arrives. You had been prepared for it up until about an hour ago when you couldn’t remember who drinks white wine and who drinks red, who has an intolerance to dairy and who has an allergy to nuts. 

Spotting Mira’s open window across the way, you decide to lean out your bedroom window, hoping to catch her attention. “Mira!” Within seconds she’s mirroring you, her hair still pinned in curls and her body wrapped in her satin robe. 

“What?” 

“I was going to bring my roasted hazelnut cookies but I can’t remember who has a dairy intolerance and who has a nut allergy.” 

“Don’t you remember? Alan doesn’t have dairy, it could get hairy, and Steph doesn’t have nuts, no buts. You don’t need to worry though, they can’t make it tonight.” 

“See, this is why you’re the better neighbour. Red or white?”

“Go for red. Jonathan drinks red.” 

For a moment, your heart stutters a little in your chest, a small sense of unease tightening your muscles, but you need to remember, it’s just a name. A popular boy’s name. “Jonathan?” 

“Jonathan as in boyfriend Jonathan. As in the-reason-why-we’re-doing-this Jonathan.”

“Oh right,” you nervously laugh, “you’ve always referred to him as ‘the boyfriend’ it made me forget that he actually has a name.” 

“Yeah, well he’ll soon have a face too. Although he said he might be a little late tonight and doesn’t mind missing the starter. He'll be here for the main.” 

“Okay, can’t wait!”

Having food preparations sorted, you take the remaining few hours to present yourself; washing, bathing, moisturising, curling your hair, applying that little extra bit of makeup, and finally choosing an outfit. Despite it only being Mira and a handful of the neighbours who have seen you in worse states, you still feel the need to look presentable in front of a new face, perhaps the result of your mother’s behaviour rubbing off on you when she faced similar situations. ‘Always presentable, always welcoming. First impressions matter.’ 

Her words stay true to this day. It’s what banked you a job, friends amongst the neighbourhood, and impossibly so, Jonathan Levy’s attraction many, many years ago. 

Since the weather had transitioned well into the Spring’s warmth, you settle for a sundress knowing that Mira fully intends to use her beautiful backyard to see off the sunset after dinner. It fits you perfectly, complimented by the sparkling golden necklace that sits squarely between your clavicles; the very same Jonathan had gifted you on your 21st birthday, which to anyone should be reason enough to get rid of it, but just like how you can’t completely get rid of the thought of Jonathan, you can’t get rid of the necklace. At least, not yet. 

You arrive a little earlier than Mira had instructed but with good intentions. You help her set the table, stick the necessary food in the oven and ease her nerves. You’re glad to see her dressed similarly, having put in that little extra glamour on top of her usual appearance to appease her guests and, of course, her boyfriend which you both casually joke about.

Soon, one by one, the neighbours start arriving and quickly settle into their own seats as the first course gets plated out. Only one seat across from you remains empty. 

You’re surprised by how quickly it starts to feel like nothing’s changed at all; being here together conversing over a roast, clinking glasses and laughing over memories and you remind yourself to give thanks to Mira’s new boyfriend for reigniting a fire that burned out long ago. However it seems like you might need to wait your turn with how engrossed the rest of the neighbours are in Mira’s new boyfriend, everyone wants to meet him. His name fails to fall out of conversation with now being the only chance to ask about him before he arrives.

“So how did he ask you out?” Lisa, from number 32, asks, sitting next to her husband Tom. 

“He took me on a date to Rosano’s, very generously paid for my meal, and then we went for a walk along the pier where he surprised me with a bouquet of pink peonies that he had the ice cream vendor keep before the date. He had it all planned out.” 

Everyone around you awes with adoration, their lips pouting and their hands over their chest, almost identical to the way people reacted when you told a similar story to your friends when they asked you how your Jonathan asked you out. Only after you swallow the soft lump of potato do you force yourself to respond in the same way, too caught up in your own memories to give an immediate reaction. 

Pink peonies. Your favourite flower. 

It takes everything in you to ignore the blaring alarm in your head, screaming and fussing over the coincidences. You boil it down to emotions running high and how everything lately has been reminding you of your ex, subconsciously relating everything back to the time you spent with him. Fuck, you didn’t even need to try that hard to link the lentil soup you’re eating back to him. The first meal you had together when you both moved into your new apartment…

The starter course and the conversation concluded when Mira’s boyfriend chapped on the front door. With an understanding nod, you take the plates from Mira’s hands, offering to take them to the kitchen while she answers the door. While there, you can hear through the walls, listening to the cacophony of people greeting one another, sharing names and pleasantries while you stand over the kitchen sink. While the tap runs, you look up to your reflection in the kitchen window, twisting your strands of hair to re-curl that one piece that had fallen flat. First impressions. Better make it a good one. 

You enter the dining room once again with a beaming smile on your face ready to welcome him in, and standing there, by Mira’s side, is the last person you want to see. 

Jonathan. Fucking. Levy. 

It is by chance, or perhaps by fate's cruel hand, that you find yourselves face to face once again in the most unexpected of places. There’s barely enough time to react when your eyes meet from across the room, picked out from a sea of people being none the wiser to the unfortunate predicament you both face. In that moment, amongst the din of the dining room, time almost comes to a stand still and you’re left waiting in the doorway with bated breath, overrun by a wash of emotions as Jonathan’s eyes are confronted with the same feeling. 

Between you and him, Jonathan seems to keep up the pretence better than you do as his smile barely dips, but enough to know that he recognises you, enough to know that he too is filled with the same amount of dread and confusion as you are. And as Mira walks him over to introduce you, he doesn’t let the facade fall. 

She introduces your name to him and without a seconds’ hesitation, he offers his hand. “Hi, I’m Jonathan, nice to meet you.” 

There’s a moment’s delay before you take it, his warmth no stranger to your skin, and with a little wobble to your voice you relay his words back to him. “It’s…it’s nice to meet you too, Jonathan.” 

His eyes stay on you as Mira thankfully takes control of the conversation. Poor, oblivious Mira who is unaware of the fact that your Jonathan has just become her Jonathan…because surnames were never mentioned. “Is the food ready to come out?” 

“Uh, yeah. I can…I can help out if you need.” 

“Perfect! Jonathan, honey, you go sit and get yourself a drink, ‘kay? Dinner won’t be long.” 

You watch agonisingly as Mira peppers his cheek with a kiss and follows you into the kitchen where you finally get a chance to navigate the minefield of unresolved emotions without a roomful of witnesses. 

Mira instantly tends to the roast slowly cooking away in the oven leaving you to stand in the corner, almost not knowing what to do yourself. An explosion has just gone off inside you yet Mira and a roomful of people are expecting you to carry on as normal, as if years and years’ worth of recovery hasn’t just been stripped from you within a single second. Thousands of layers of hurt have been peeled back and left you bare and vulnerable to your biggest fear, and yet Jonathan’s pretence to not know you has forced you to deal with it as if it’s nothing. 

What the fuck are you supposed to do?

“So what do you think?” Mira pulls you from your musing and peers up to you, a proud smile on her face. Her. Mira. It’s all for Mira’s sake, the innocent party in all of this. The realisation hits you like a freight train. If she knew anything about Jonathan being the ex you talked for hours about, it would destroy her. “He’s nice, right?” 

“Lovely,” you gleam back, kickstarting your limbs to dish out the cooked vegetables. “He seems very nice.”

“I knew you’d like him.” 

If only, Mira, if only. 

Not enough time passes before everyone is sat at the dinner table once more, tucking into the delicious food warmly prepared by Mira. You wouldn’t even know, you’ve barely touched it. You can’t find it in you to enjoy the food nor engage in the jovial conversation happening around you because Jonathan Fucking Levy, your ex of six years, is sitting right across from you behaving so casually it makes your stomach churn. 

The little ball of stuffing rolls across your plate, dancing from side to side over and over again. You take the small amount of comfort you can find in the hypnotic motion, stuck in a trance of watching this stuffing ball roll back and forward while Jonathan Fucking Levy drones on about his endeavours. You try to pay him no attention of course, but when everyone else around you is sucked into his conversation narrated by his smooth-like-honey voice that used to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, it’s harder said than done. 

You dip in and out of his story telling every now and then because you can’t stop your curiosity from wondering just how different the last three years have been for him. Apparently he took ‘personal growth’ seriously and you come to realise that it wasn’t just a shoddy excuse to break up. He’s become a reputable academic, striving in the industry and made quite a name for himself which he explains so beautifully, so fluent with expression and elegant with his choice of his words that hooks everyone in which, given his career choice, makes all the more sense. Then, when you throw in his confident manner and the slightly animated way he presents himself when he speaks passionately about something (which, back in the day, used to be you), it accumulates to something you can’t help but admire. You see it in the eyes of your neighbours around you, afraid to blink for fears of missing something spectacular. 

It really makes you wonder how he can act so calm and collected. It’s been three years. Surely there has to be one little atom inside him that's swayed by your being here. There has to be. 

Oh, there definitely is. 

You don’t know it because you refuse to look at him, but every part of Jonathan is burning with anxiety. If you could just spare him one glance you would see that his fingers twitch around the thin stem of the wine glass, that his whole body shakes with his bobbing knee, and that his teeth incessantly chew away at his bottom lip. At least he has the red wine to thank, staining his cheeks with enough colour to conceal how pale he would be otherwise. 

Because he’s terrified. Terrified of not only seeing you, but missing you. Desperately, hopelessly, and unquestionably missing you. He feared he would never see you again to tell you. Yet here you are, sitting an arm’s length away from him, unknowingly tormenting him with the scent of your perfume that consumes every particle of air around him, effortlessly resurrecting memories of how he used to wish that scent would wake him up every morning like it used to. If only he could reach out to feel the buzz of your skin on his, just like it did when you shook his hand, the electricity that flowed through him when your eyes found his. He’s already experiencing withdrawal and he craves for your attention but you won’t look at him anymore. He needs you to look at him again, he needs you to know that he’s been plagued with regret since the moment you split. How can he get you to look at him? 

“So what do you do?” 

His question cuts through the running conversation like a sharp knife, demanding the attention of everyone at the table as they silence and wait for your answer. It takes you a second to realise he’s talking to you and had it been without everyone staring at you, you would’ve ignored him. But you don’t want to come across as rude to the other guests, and you settle for answering coldly. 

“Just corporate work, just a simple nine-to-five-Monday-to-Friday kind of job. It’s nothing special.” 

Mira interjects and you happily give her your attention if it means taking it away from Jonathan. Only, she’s leaning against his shoulder, softly patting his thigh affectionately. “Oh she’s being modest, she’s a finance manager, runs the full finance department with an iron fist, don’t you?”  

“I manage a small team of bookkeepers and accountants, it’s barely a department.”

“Interesting, how did you get into that?” You pan back to Jonathan who’s munching away, glaring at him through the furrow of your eyebrows, almost vehement at his audacity because he already knows how you got in financing. It was him. 

“A friend.” 

“What do you mean?” This bastard. 

“A friend convinced me to do it. I didn’t have the confidence at the time and he motivated me.”

“That was nice of him.” Sarcasm drips with every word. 

You bite back. “Yeah, he was nice. Until he wasn’t. Anyway, that’s a different story for a different time. More wine, anyone?” There’s a few mumbles of agreement, giving you enough of an excuse to rise from the table and make your way to Mira’s pantry in search of a stronger, more bitter tasting wine because God knows you’re going to need it to get through the rest of this dinner. 

Dessert comes and goes at an agonising pace. With the help of wine and the particularly boozy dessert, you become less inhibited, detangling yourself from the thick tension that’s lassoed tight around you and Jonathan. 

Instead, you find solace in Harry, who lives at number 30, sitting next to you, telling you about the struggles of being a single dad to two troublesome toddlers. It’s quite a depressing conversation and not the pick-me-up you were looking for, but anything is better than having to quietly observe the flirting that’s happening across the table. You deceive Harry into thinking that he’s got your full attention but really you’re hyper aware of Mira and Jonathan in your peripheral vision, sharing small, intimate touches, glancing at each other with stars in their eyes, embraced by the bliss of new-found love. 

That used to be you. You haven’t had anything like that since. 

“So…uh…” You have all intentions of continuing the conversation with Harry but you weren’t listening well enough to remember where he left off. “Who’s looking after the kids tonight?” 

“I hired a babysitter. Which reminds me,” he checks the time on his phone. “I said I’d be back by 8 and it’s 7:57. I better go.” To your dismay, your distraction rises from the table, grabs his jacket from the chair, thanks Mira for the meal and bids everyone a good night. Damn. There goes your distraction. 

Everyone around you is locked deep in conversation under the lowlights of Mira’s dining room. All except you. With a heavy sigh, you reach for your wine glass to once again relish the dry, bitter taste of the alcohol as it trickles down your throat. You slouch further and further back against your chair, wallowing in your isolation that no one seems to take notice of. 

But Jonathan does, and to your surprise, you feel something tentatively brush against your leg. At first you thought you had gotten too close to the table leg, but when it starts creeping up the length of your leg underneath your dress, your only option is to consider the man sitting directly across from you. Your eyes burn into the side of his head, ignorant to you while he talks enthusiastically about something you’re not privy to. Not that you want to be, especially when the tip of his shoe caresses the back of your calf, pulling it out from underneath you and hooking your ankle closer to him. He remains unfazed as your foot gently rests atop his underneath the table, tracing small circles over your achilles heel. 

Your heart beats widely inside you, violently disorientating you as much as the twisting in your stomach does. The gesture is so provocative you’re almost sweating in your seat. It’s scandalous, outrageous, and downright inappropriate, but you’ll be damned to hell if you don’t admit to yourself that it feels mildly arousing. 

Only when Mira leaves for the bathroom does he catch a glimpse of you over the tip of his wine glass and old sparks fly as you read the words in his eyes that his mouth can’t say. I miss you. I want you. I need you. 

Shaken, you draw back your leg and pull your eyes from his, feeling completely lost and indecisive about what to do. The hidden touches, the secrecy, it’s all too intimate for you to be opening an old wound that still hasn’t fully healed. You’re not ready for three years of hardship to manifest. 

Yet again Mira comes to the rescue when she returns from the bathroom and ushers all the remaining guests out into the backyard where you sit yourself as far away from Jonathan as possible, but it’s not without the touch of Jonathan’s hand to the small of your back as you all walk out through the glass panel doors, unnoticed by everyone else. There isn’t a doubt in your mind that he saw the momentary shiver that wracked your shoulders the moment his fingers splayed across the bottom of your spine, virtually feeling the heat of your body through the cotton sundress as if it was your own skin. You make a mental note to yourself to never get close to Jonathan for the remainder of the night. 

Once you get outside, you look up to your bedroom window, visible from all areas of Mira’s garden, wishing that you return to the comforts of your own bed, lost in your book and free from this emotional torment. It takes just a glimpse of your window to see everything inside it, something you hadn’t realised was possible until Mira had to awkwardly knock on your door the second week of you moving here and gently warn you to draw your blinds when you were changing. And just as the thought arises…

“Do you remember,” Mira hiccups, perhaps on her sixth glass of wine of the night, “when I had to tell you to close your blinds two weeks after you moved here? I actually thought you were maybe trying to seduce me!” She laughs wholeheartedly, nearly spilling her wine onto Jonathan’s lap. 

A blush blooms on your cheeks. “I didn’t realise you could see in! If I had known I would’ve! Jesus, Mira, way to make me out as a flasher in front of the neighbours.” 

“Listen, if it makes you feel any better, some guys would’ve paid thousands to have seen what I saw every  morning.” 

With a nervous glance of your eyes, you see Jonathan’s glare hard on you. 

“Do I need to contact the HOA and tell them we’ve got a pervert in our neighbourhood?” 

The neighbours laugh but Mira rushes to her defence, unknowingly giving Jonathan that all important detail that he might take advantage of later. “My window is right there! How could I not see you?” 

“Conversation over.” 

Against your wishes, Mira dives into many conversations of a similar nature provoked by Jonathan who annoyingly asks all sorts of questions that involve how you and Mira became friends, forcing her, in her now drunken state, to divulge all the memories you share together, including the many nights you spent talking about ex-lovers. The minute she starts spilling everything, nausea starts to pool inside you and the colour trickles away from your cheeks. Knowing none the wiser, she talks on and on and on about how you bonded over the troubles and hardships of being single, detailing everything about how you would reminisce over ex-lovers and compare them to every shitty cheesy romance film you watched together. And with just a few stories, she single-handedly exposes all of your inner thoughts and feelings towards Jonathan. Right in front of him all for him to hear. 

You silently plead with your eyes, solid in their gaze in the hopes that Mira would catch on and shut up, but she’s seven, no, eight glasses of wine deep that she can’t hold anybody’s gaze let alone yours. 

Jonathan merely sits and listens, amused by everything that is pouring out from Mira’s loud mouth. 

“I mean, it’s hard. And you’ll agree with me on this, that trying to get back into the dating scene as a single woman isn’t an easy experience! You go on dates with guys that bore you to sleep, clicking with absolutely none of them and it just leads to you going home and dreaming about meeting the one guy that sweeps you off your feet. Of course, you’ll know what I mean because you’ve already met him--”

“Mira--” 

She turns to Jonathan to give him context. Knowledge that he already knows himself. “She had this one guy that she dated years ago, the one-that-got-away kind of guy. We used to laugh about him--”

Jonathan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh really? How so?”

Fuck. 

“Mira--”

“Just the usual girly stuff, what we would wear at our weddings, thinking about baby names, and talk about owning the perfect house in the suburbs, that kind of stuff.” 

Jonathan turns to you with an emotion you can only only describe as being distressed, possibly on the verge of being disturbed and you don’t blame him. You’re sure that he could see the very same feeling in you through the gaps of your fingers as they hide your face in embarrassment. 

This is possibly your worst nightmare come to life. The entire night had dwindled into absolute ruins and there’s nothing more that you want than to bury yourself into the ground, away from Mira, away from this mortifying feeling, away from Jonathan. You know it’s not her fault, but everything in you is wanting you to blame Mira, to be judge, jury and executioner and lay out all that she is guilty of in front of her. However in reality, you’re projecting. You were the one to tell her about Jonathan. You were the one to feed her all this information believing that not a word of it would ever reach Jonathan’s ears, and when you consider all that has led up to this exact moment, you are just as at fault as she is. 

And you need to make a run from it while you can. 

“I’m…uh, I think I’m going to go home,” you announce, not realising how shaky your voice is until you speak up. Mira’s expression falls with disappointment, coming immediately to a stand and trying her hardest to convince you to stay. But you know nothing could. 

“Do you want us to walk you home?” 

“Mira, I live next door, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” 

She persistently follows you back into the house. “I’ll walk you to the door then.”

“I know where the front door is--” 

“I just want to make sure you get home okay--” 

“Mira, honey, you go sit, I’ll walk her out.” Jonathan’s voice appears from behind you both, reassuring enough that Mira follows his word and returns to the back garden with a mousey ‘okay’. Once gone, Jonathan, stoic as ever, catches you in his stride, escorting you to the door with a hand to the back of your shoulder. 

This time, when you speak, you can’t stop the sniffle as your emotions run high. “If I don’t want Mira walking me out, I sure as shit don’t want you walking me out.” 

He merely looks down to you and sighs, not listening to a single word you say. Within a matter of seconds, you exit through Mira’s front door, ready and willing to slam it in Jonathan’s face but he’s just a pace too quick and is already following you through the front garden. Your body goes into high alert, having no idea what he’s about to do now that for the first time in three years, you have a moment alone together. 

“Jonathan,” you warn. “Go back inside.” 

“Just let me walk you home.” 

“Why?” 

“Why? Because I want an explanation as to what the fuck just happened in there.” 

“You’re not getting one. You don’t deserve one. Go back inside, Jonathan, your girlfriend is waiting on you.” 

“Like hell. Will you just talk to me for one second?!” He reaches out and grabs your arm, swinging you around to face him where your bodies stand inches apart. It’s not in anger nor frustration but in desperation, as if this is the only chance he’ll ever get again to speak to you alone and he’s not willing to let it slip by him so easily. “Is…is what Mira said true? Did you really talk about all those things?” 

You look down to your fingers wringing them out while you wait for the courage to build. “That wasn’t her information to share. But what does it matter anyway, it’s…stupid.”

“It matters to me.” He tilts your chin with the gentlest of touches, his hand lingering close to your neck as he picks up the necklace sitting delicately around your neck, one that he’s all too familiar with. “I miss you.” 

“Don’t…don’t say that to me.” You begin to feel the tethers keeping the remains of your composure snapping, your mouth sinking deeper into a frown the way it always does when you’re about to cry. “You don’t get to say that to me.” 

“Nonetheless, it’s true. And I think you missed me too.” 

You roll your eyes and he immediately scorns you. “No, no, don’t do that. Don’t invalidate it just because I said it. I’m not trying to be smug or patronising, I want to know the truth. Did you miss me?” 

The wobble in your lip becomes uncontrollable. You don’t have the option to lie because he can read every minute feature on your face like it’s laid out for him in words, he would know if you didn’t tell the truth. With a deep breath, you push out the admission. “Every. Fucking. Day.” 

He nods understandably, retracting his hand from your necklace and sinks it deep into his pockets. He looks up to your window before quietly murmuring words suggestive in tone, “then keep your window open tonight.” 

And it takes your breath away.

~~~~

It’s late. A little past 1am. It’s been all too silent since the last of Mira’s guests left about an hour ago leaving only her and Jonathan next door. 

His last words to you before you separated still echo loudly in your ears but you just can’t figure what he meant. It’s the only thing that’s kept you up this late, and even as you sit on your bed just a few metres from your open window that lets in a cool, calming breeze, you still can’t fathom what he’s intending to do because her window across from you is closed, her curtains drawn and her lights out. 

Is this a joke? Is this Jonathan’s cruel twisted idea of a joke to make you watch as he and Mira settle for the night? Teasing you with something you can’t have? The foundation of that idea had developed a little less than half an hour ago and the more time ticks on, the more bricks are added to it. 

Having enough, you turn your back to your window, taking your duvet and slinging it over your head and around your shoulders, blocking out the world behind you. There’s no point trying to sleep, the embarrassment and the emotional trauma of tonight are still too raw for you to find any peace, so you reach for the half-finished book on your nightstand. 

Fuck Jonathan Levy. Fuck him and everything he stands for. Fuck him in the past and--

Wait, what was that? 

Just then, not even two lines into your book you hear the small creak of a door opening and closing coming from outside. Your eyes dart to your digital clock reading 1:10am. It could be Mark coming in from his backshift. It could be Erin, Alan’s teenage daughter sneaking in from a night out. It could be Rebecca, taking her dog out on a late night walk. All options are plausible and wouldn’t be completely out of the ordinary. But there’s one option that you’re afraid to consider.

What if it’s Jonathan? 

You don’t look to check because you wouldn’t know what you would do if it was him, and so in the meantime, you continue to anxiously sit and listen out for any other clues. 

In time, they come. The rustling of the ivy that weaves in and out of your lattice fencing on the side of your house. The breaths of a man as he scales up the wooden structure to your window. The heaviness of his boots as they thud against your floorboards. The raspiness of his voice as he mutters your name. He’s here. In your room, and yet you still can’t bring yourself to turn around to face him. Your breaths are tremorous as he makes his way closer to you, almost shaking with anticipation of what’s about to happen. 

He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t make any rash decisions. For a moment, he pauses by the side of your bed eyeing you up with your duvet slung over your head and decidedly reaches for it, taking a fistful of the sheets and dragging it slowly away from you until you’re exposed to him, still dressed in the sundress you couldn’t bring yourself to take off. The tension locks you in a chokehold, unable to move, unable to speak, waiting for the moment where Jonathan’s hand reaches out to touch you once more but you know it’ll be different this time. No more gentle touches hidden in plain sight, no more casual excuses to lay his hands on you, everything that will happen here on in will be the result of three years of separation and withdrawal. 

The bed dips under his weight and only then do you turn your head to look over your left shoulder. He’s closer than you expected and you see the tufts of his curls hanging over his forehead come into sight, low and looming. His nose comes into contact with your shoulder and even the slightest touch sets you alight. He scales up the curve of your neck to hide deep within the locks of your hair behind your ear and inhales.

“That fucking perfume,” he whispers softly into your hair. “It’s just as perfect as I remember.” 

“Jonathan, we…” you heaved a breath, fighting temptation. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“You have no idea, do you?” He murmurs directly into your ear, his arm coming around to circle your waist and hug you closer to him. “No idea just how much I missed you, how much I regret what I did, and every day I spent not being with you was a reminder of the mistake I made to the point where I thought I would never get to hold you again.” 

He renders you speechless when he scrapes away the strands of your hair and mouths at the curve of your neck, humming into your skin. It’s almost the same as before, soft pillowy lips showering you with unreserved passion, except this time they’re followed by the slight scrape of his beard grown in the years you hadn’t seen him. It makes his kisses more exhilarating, stimulating. While your body screams for more, your morals just can’t shake the guilt of betraying your own friend. 

“But Mira--” 

“Mira knows.” 

You detach yourself from his lips to face him, still half-lidded and unfazed by his admission. You’re almost nauseous with the way your heart drops in your chest. “What do you mean she knows?” 

Despite your surprise, Jonathan simply tilts his head as he assesses your face in the sheen of the streetlight like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again and doesn’t stop his fingers from intertwining with the short baby hairs at the nape of your neck. 

“She had an inkling that there was something going on between us. There was a reason why she brought me up in the conversation earlier in the garden because she knew from the moment she saw the look on your face when you saw me. So I came clean. We decided to be completely honest with each other and we talked for a while.” 

“And?” 

“Well, she knew your thoughts on me…and it was more than I had ever thought to hear.”

Your cheeks flush angrily, wincing at the thought of Mira revealing every confession told with such a lack of restraint. Back then, telling Mira these things felt like securing all of your secrets into a vault, trusting that they would be safe, trusting that they were secure enough that no one besides you would have access to them. In hindsight, you should’ve perceived her as more of a time capsule, planted, hidden for the time being, and when after enough time passes, they are bound to be found by someone else. 

“I know that you hated me for a while - and I did too. I always wondered whether you resented me as much as I did, for a while I thought it wasn’t possible. And while I knew the resentment was one sided, there was a part of me that wished that missing each other wasn’t. I guess I found my answers tonight.” 

“Was Mira mad?” 

“No, darling,” he grazes his chin over the curve of your shoulder, lips inching closer and closer to your own. “She considered you to be too much of a friend to get in the way and cause you any pain, not after all that you had told her. She knew you would’ve done the same for her.” 

“I…I don’t know what to think. It’s all just a mess.” 

You turn your head towards the book in your hands, fingers fiddling with the page, while you try to figure out where your loyalties lie. With your head? With your heart? It’s a wonder how the same body can feel two entirely opposing feelings and yet still wonder which one is the right one. 

“Maybe…” Jonathan whispers, his hand reaching for the book and sliding it from your grasp, “maybe, you don’t need to think at all. Let me do the thinking for you. Let me show you just how much I’ve missed you, because fuck, as much as I love this dress you have on, I’m much more interested in what’s underneath it.” While one hand pulls you tighter against his chest, his other hand comes to slide down your thigh until curls around your knee, bunching the fabric tight in his fist and pulling it higher and higher. You watch with eager eyes, succumbing to Jonathan’s temptation and letting go of all of your inhibitions. Your eyes grow heavy, wanting to relish the feeling of his fingertips tracing the length of your inner thigh as they gently pull your legs apart, but it’s much more satisfying to watch. Jonathan doesn’t need to watch, not when he can taste the supple skin of your neck. 

It’s almost agonising how slow his pace is, how he stalls every couple of seconds to trace circles on your skin and devilishly chuckles when you whimper. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed though, talking about our life’s plan without me.” 

Just as his fingers feel the outer rim of your underwear, you tilt your head back to lean against his shoulder with a sinful sigh. Opening your legs just that little bit wider tells Joanthan everything he needs to know. It’s been years. Years since he’s had you like this, so he has every reason not to take it slowly and fuck you like a man starved of your touch, but there’s something in him, perhaps the little devil on his shoulder, that persuades him to take it slowly, to exploit the part of you that has missed him and prove to you that the years spent apart, however painful, was worth the wait. 

“Tell me,” he urges, “tell me what you had imagined.” 

Call you ignorant but you’re not quite in the talking mood. However, you feel he won’t do a single thing to you unless you do as he asks. “That…that we’d get married in the small church near the vineyard where we grew up. I imagined a quiet house in the suburbs, just us two, at least for a while.” 

“Hm, what kind of house?” 

“One that wasn’t too big that we’d feel far apart, and not too small that we would get in each other’s way. One with a garage and a garden where our dog could run around.” 

“Good,” he praises into your ear. A single digit slips beneath your underwear which instantly gets a feel of your warm, wettening cunt, and you grow impatient.  “What else?” 

“After a while, we…shit…we’d have our own kids. A boy and a girl. I’d hope they’d have your eyes.” 

After doing a few rounds of your entrance, the tip of his finger rests upon your clit, barely moving. Your hips start moving fluidly, all of their own volition but he eases his touch. Instead he gives a gentle tap tap tap, urging you to continue before you can get any more.

The hand that keeps you stable around your middle eventually slithers up to wrap around your neck squeezing with a dizzying pressure. 

“Keep going…” 

“We’d take an early retirement so that we could grow old together. Taking vacations to places we’d never been to before, being the same couple we were when we were younger.” 

“Oh yeah? I love the sound of that. Just as much as I love the sound of those moans you make. Keep singing little siren.” The moan that leaves your lips the minute he nibbles on your lobe is unrecognisable. You haven’t been seduced like this in years and every atom of you is buzzing with anxiety and in your physical form, you can’t sit still. It takes the weight and pressure of Jonathan’s thighs resting either side of your hips to keep you anchored. 

His fingers make quick work of building you up, conjuring that deep, guttural feeling of pleasure and desire to stir within you. Even after years, he still knows you so well, still knows what makes you tick and what makes you scream. There isn’t an inch of your neck that Jonathan’s lips haven’t touched; sucking, licking, biting until you’re coloured with bruises. 

“Seems like you have it all planned out, darling. But why don’t I tell you how I imagined tonight would go?” 

“Please.” 

Just as his words flow from his mouth, two fingers slide easily into you and curl into that spot makes your body restless and your lungs heaving. “Just as I did, I’d find you here, confess that there wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think of you, tell you how I yearned to have the sweet taste of you on my tongue again and the tight squeeze of that cunt around my cock. I’d seduce you every way I knew I could and I’d want you to want it. I’d want you to tell me that you want it and once I knew I had you again, I’d get on my knees, lift up that dress of yours and taste you. Get you nice and wet, ready to take me.”

“Fuck, Jonathan--” 

“After years, I thought my patience would get the better of me if I ever had this chance again, but seeing you here like this,” his fingers pick up the pace, drilling into you and filling the room with sacrilegious sounds. “I think I might want to take my time, let each minute that passes reflect what I have been thinking about every day we were apart.” 

“Please,” you whisper, growing evermore impatient. It all sounds too good. The more he speaks his feelings into words the more you want it. To have the feeling of him touch you everywhere, to feel him inside you, snug and shaped by him and bringing you to the precipice of losing your mind the way only he could. “I need you, Jonathan, need you now.” 

His lips come to your cheek, shaped by a smile of satisfaction. “You will, darling. Soon. I just want to savour this right now.” 

His fingers slip from your cunt, trailing all that he’s gathered up the length of your slit to come crashing down onto your clit. While he circles and swirls his fingers, you twist your head to lock eyes with him and even in the cover of darkness, you can still make out the fire that’s burning within him leaving no doubt that he truly wants to ravish you just as he has described. But it isn’t a roaring fire, it’s a slow burning candle, flickering away to slowly dissolve all of what’s left of his patience. 

Like instinct, your lips clash together hungrily not sparing a second before your tongues and welding together and tasting the remnants of the red wine you both had earlier. Inexplicably, it tastes sweeter on his palate. 

The fingers that curl around your neck tense as if they’re fighting to keep you stable, surging to keep your restlessness at bay and all of this is making you wonder ‘why not just get on with it?’.

You decide to hasten the pace, raising your hips closer to his fingers with the tips of your toes, feeling his cock grind against the small of your back where it should be grinding against your cunt. Though that may be how you truly feel, you make do with his fingers toying with you with his palm flat against your pubic bone to keep you close, once again making you twitch with anticipation and hum with desire. You’re close, so close that with just another lap of his fingers would make you explode. 

Holy shit. You’re going to cum. You’re to cum on Jonathan Fucking Levy’s fingers.

“Don’t you think we should maybe close your blinds?” He taunts, suddenly halting all of his movements. “Surely you wouldn’t want the neighbours to see how easily you fall apart for me.”

Jesus. Where did this side of Jonathan come from? 

“Um…y-yeah. Close them.” God, it’s starting to take effect on you. When was the last time a man made you stumble over your own words like that? 

With a gentle kiss to your cheek, he rises from the bed to leave you attempting to find relief from the friction of your thighs, chasing what you were seconds from having. 

When you begin to wonder what takes him so long, you turn to face him staring out of the window, his silhouette blocking the light of the streetlamp that normally floods in through the glass. The fingers that were toying with your cunt seconds ago twitch by his side rubbing together the remnants of your slick, so sensual that it has you biting your bottom lip. Before he closes the curtain he takes those fingers and puts them in his mouth as if he’s just swiped the whipped cream from atop a pudding he’s forbidden to have. But sometimes that’s what makes it all the sweeter. 

“Jonathan?” you whisper to pull him from his reverie, your patience waning. 

“Coming,” he says gently. “Just taking it all in. You, me…” he snaps the curtains closed and plunges you both into darkness, “your taste on my tongue.” 

Slowly and somewhat menacingly he turns around and his shoulders are hunched, his fists are clenched, his breathing is audibly racing. The tone instantly changes when he comes to stand over you, his fingers tilting your chin up to look at him directly. It hooks you in immediately, suddenly feeling the compulsion to do whatever he wants, to go wherever he guides you. 

Jonathan’s voice slithers through the air like a snake through the wreaths, worming its way into the valley of your ears so clear and precise. “I know I said I was going to take this slowly and I whole-heartedly intend to follow through with that. But just so you know, I don’t think I can be gentle. Can you allow me that?” 

“Yes, Jonathan, yes.” 

“Good.” 

It amazes you how one short syllable completely changes the aura of the room, how easily Jonathan commands control of the situation because all of a sudden, the gentle traces of his fingertips circling your chin changes to a clawed hand around your neck, drawing you into an all-consuming kiss that’s more powerful than before. Without missing a single beat, he forces you onto your back and hovers over you, caging you in and anchoring his weight down onto your pelvis. It should feel claustrophobic and intrusive, but instead it feels like a sanctuary; warm, safe, secure.

Where it feels like he belongs.

Shivers race up your spine and throw your hands into motion as they cling onto his shirt, luring him even closer until the beat of his heart is pounding against yours. Not only that, but you can feel his hips thrusting into yours, grinding his contained cock against your heat and it elicits a moan from both of you. With a sudden rush of adrenaline, he races to undo his belt, pulling himself free and you almost squeal with the anticipation of knowing how well he can undo you with one swift thrust. But like Jonathan promised, he isn’t going to rush this. He slowly peels off your underwear until you are well and truly exposed.

Not without a few pumps of his fist, he lines himself up and anchors you down, teasing your entrance with the head of his leaking cock, giving you a taster of what’s to come. 

“You drive me fucking insane,” he grumbles into your mouth. “Always have, always will.” 

“Please stop talking.”

“Or what, huh?” he chuckles. He takes the head of his cock and batters it against your swollen clit. Deliberately, you guess, to render you speechless. And it works, the snide quip hot on your lips quickly loses all conviction and you’re back to moans and whimpers. “‘S what I thought. You and I both know how much we want this. How much we’ve missed this.”

This time you take the chance to bite back before he robs you of it. “Well get on with it, then.” 

Now driven, he snags your bottom lip with his teeth dragging it out until it’s released with a pop. “Fine.”

Giving you a final taste of his lips, he comes to a stand taking your legs with him with a mighty pull until your hips lie just over the precipice of the bed. He hugs your legs to his chest, his cock lining up with your exposed cunt perfectly and with powerful thrust, he sinks deep into you. All of the air punches out of your lungs in a single beat and you claw at the bed sheets while you fight for your breath back. You’re momentarily debilitated while you acclimate to his size, filling you so effortlessly. Despite being slightly uncomfortable, it’s a welcome intrusion and you’re thankful that he gives you a minute.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Holy fuck.”

Not a moment later, he pulls his hips back, completely withdrawing and just when you think you’ve got your breath back he charges into you again, snapping his hips against your ass and sending aftershocks up the length of your body. It’s a motion he repeats over and over again, giving you that pleasurable feeling of being so full of him as he grinds into you all to be taken away within a moment leaving utterly empty. You have just enough awareness to listen out for the staccato notes of his hips slapping against yours followed by your sheepish sobs. 

It’s insatiable. He never changes pace and the power of his thrusts never falters. He certainly doesn’t allude to breaking his promise of rushing things and frustratingly so, continues his slow rampage, finding pleasure in that little sweet spot where the swollen ridge of his cock drags from your cunt. It’s enough to get you going, but not enough to finish you off. 

“I need more,” you beg between breaths. “Please.” 

Jonathan doesn’t respond, and instead waits until the cheeks of your ass are red raw from his poundings (which feels like a lifetime) and only then, does he take a new approach. Your legs swing apart, forced wide open by his greedy hands and you’re left to watch with bated breath as he drops to his knees and devours you.

“Fuck, Jonathan!”

“Mm, that’s right, baby, say my name.” 

“Jonath--fuck!” His mouth completely consumes every inch of your cunt, lavishing the taste of you with his tongue from deep within you to the tip of your clit. Amongst the buzzes of his hum, the soft scrape of his beard, and the crescent-moon marks pressing into your waist, your back arches as desire slowly morphs into a desperate pain, needing to give his hot mouth more access to your cunt if it was at all possible. And just when you think you are ready to give in, he steals the moment from you. With two fingers, he slots them easily into you and starts working your pussy at a torturous pace. 

“Look how soaked you are.” His lips brush against your clit as he speaks, a depraved grunt rolling from the back of his throat. 

“I’m gonna cum.” 

“Do it. I want it. I wanna taste you. I want you.” 

Your heart grows, a small smile appearing on your lips. The warmth of affection stills you momentarily to appreciate how you have your old love back, the man you could never really get over, that all those years of waiting and wanting are over. You don’t know what it was about the sudden softness and love-drunkenness that washed through you, but God, he was stunning. Everything about him was annoyingly perfect. Stupidly, annoyingly perfect. Yet, here he was, lavishing you as if you were an elixir of life.

Your fingers itch to race through his locks to pull him closer, tempted to never let him go. Through his dark lashes, his lust-heavy eyes find yours as if he knew what you were insinuating.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m never leaving. Let go for me.” 

You didn’t need to be told again. With the final swipe of his tongue across your clit, you internal combust, your entire body folding into itself with Jonathan trapped between your thighs. 

----

You and Jonathan spent the night catching up on all the years you spent apart, sharing orgasm after orgasm until you were completely and utterly spent. Despite only having just a few hours of sleep, you awoke early in the morning, just in time to see the sun rise over the peak of your neighbours’ houses. All is calm in the street aside from the few birds tweeting in Mira’s tree and Jonathan’s steady breathing beside you. The tranquil, blissful few moments of consciousness fills you with a sense of rejuvenation from all that has happened within the last 24 hours. If it hadn’t been for Mira’s approval beforehand, you would be drowning in guilt. You make a mental reminder to talk to her and apologise later. 

You roll over on your side of the bed to find Jonathan sleeping peacefully beside you, his hand tucked under his chin like it always did when he was deep in slumber and you quirk a smile when you realise that nothing’s changed. With a delicate finger, you sweep away the curl resting against his forehead, careful not to wake him but yet he still stirs, readjusting himself subconsciously. Though not fully awake, he reaches out for you as if it was instinct and little do you know, it is. Every morning since you split, Jonathan had always reached out for you to find nothing but empty cold space on the other side of his bed and it was a sad reality he couldn’t quite accept. But now, when his fingertips feel the warmth of your skin against his, he doesn’t hesitate to lure you into his embrace to relish the lingering scent of your perfume, the slow beating of your heart, the little content hum singing from your throat. You’re here. You’re real. And he’s certain to never lose you again.

In his drowsy state, he puckers his lips in a timid kiss to the surface of your forehead. 

“Love you,” he quietly murmurs. 

With a breathy laugh, you return his kiss, whispering the same words against his bare chest directly over his heart. 

I love you too, Jonathan Fucking Levy. 

[majosullivan]

Since it has been on my mind lately and I’m in the mood to ramble, I present to you: why I believe Lenore’s spectre is going to be a Phoenix/Phoenix themed.

Before I go more deeply into this, I want to cover the most agreed upon detail of Lenore’s possible spectre: Lenore having wings. This really seems like a slam dunk at this point. Lenore so far has had a clear association with birds, specifically ravens; with one of the Poe works she is based on being The Raven, her talking to and seeking out the Raven in Nevermore, the cane we see her using in her and Annabel’s memories having a Raven skull as the handle and her family crest having a pair of black wings a part of its design.

Additionally, there’s also the detail of Nevermore’s logo. Nevermore’s logo is comprised of a beating heart and a pair of black wings. Since Annabel’s spectre has a heart shaped hole in her chest, Lenore’s spectre having wings would make up the rest of the logo, with the logo symbolising our pair of deuteragonists.

Furthermore, there is also the scene with Lenore and The Raven, with him mockingly asking Lenore if she has a pair of wings under her blazer after she tries to stop him from leaving in episode 35.

Honestly, this panel might as well have a massive sign titled ‘FORESHADOWING’ in blinking lights attached to it when we take into account everything that we’ve pointed out. So, while it seems very likely that Lenore will have wings, why do I think she will be a phoenix specifically? With her connections to ravens, surely it make more sense for her to be a raven? Well, this is because of one word: rebirth.

Just to have a quick explanation for the basis, a phoenix is an immortal bird that cyclically regenerates or is otherwise born again. Being associated with the sun, a phoenix obtains new life by rising from the ashes of its predecessor. Some legends say it dies in a show of flames and combustion, others that it simply dies and decomposes before being born again. Throughout the comic, there has been a lot of links to Lenore and the ideas of rebirth. Specifically, there are three examples where Lenore has gone through a death of some form, before being reborn/brought back to life in some form.

The first time we see this after the accident with the tree. With the death of Theo, who was seemingly the only person in Lenore’s life at the time who genuinely cared about her, and being locked away in the attic for years after being deemed as never being able to recover from her injuries, along with her parents no longer seeing her as any respectable use since they wouldn’t be able to marry her off, we see Lenore go through her first ‘death’. Forced to live a lifeless existence hidden away in shame, with her ripping away the wallpaper being the only real change that occurred during her time in the attic. All of this leads into first time Lenore is reborn/brought back to life when she first meets Annabel, which allowed her to be freed from the attic and form a genuine connection with someone in years. Lenore even says so herself, describing Annabel as the one who brought her back to life long before she died.

The second time, and the one that arguably has the most obvious link to the ideas of Phoenixs, is when Lenore faked her death to go after Annabel. Here we see her in the process of disguising herself as a man, before finishing her packing and setting the house on fire so everyone will assume she died in the fire and she can assume her new identity without suspicion. Here, I don’t think I have to go too in-depth to point how through her actions, Lenore arose from the ashes of the house fire as Leo Vandernacht, leaving her life as the disgraced daughter of the Vandernachts to burn away in the house fire, just like a Phoenix arising from the ashes of its predecessor (side note quickly but Lenore I swear to fucking god you better actually have a cousin named Leo or I’m coming through the screen to shake you like a maraca). The parallels here are pretty clean cut.

Finally, we have her actual death and her appearing at Nevermore. While we don’t know the full details behind Lenore’s and Annabel’s deaths, whatever they are only have the possibility to strengthen the links to rebirth that have been clearly shown from the start. The whole conflict in Nevermore is the competition for a new life. With Lenore’s death and her arrival to Nevermore placing her in a competition for a second chance at life, she has once again been placed into a position similar to the cycle of a Phoenix, with this time following closer to legends where a Phoenix simply dies and decomposes before being born again. Additionally, Annabel’s complete faith in Lenore can also fed into this. We see in episode 41, how no matter what awaits them, no matter challenges they have to overcome, Annabel has absolute faith that Lenore will find a way to get them out of Nevermore. Not herself or any complex plan she has, Lenore is the one who will ultimately be the key to their escape. Lenore is the key to their second chance at life, to their rebirth.

Speaking of Annabel, the way she describes Lenore in episode 66 can add onto this line of reasoning. During the episode, we see Annabel describe Lenore as ‘ash the moment we met’, before going on to talk about how all madwoman die at least twice. First off, describing Lenore as ash already brings her back to the idea of being a Phoenix, with Pheonix rising from the dead through the ashes of predecessor. Secondly, the idea of all madwomen dying at least twice in relation to Lenore is yet another link to the concept of a Phoenix, with them going through multiple deaths in their cycle of rebirth.

To focus on some of the smaller details, the colours associated with Lenore can also strengthen the idea of Lenore’s spectre being Phoenix themed as well. As we all know well at this point, in very Romeo and Juliet fashion, Annabel and Lenore have clear colours associated to them, with Annabel often dressing in blue, in addition to other cold colours, while Lenore often dresses in reds, in addition to other warm colours. Considering this and Lenore’s already clear association to fire, like Lenore’s spectre having wings, it seems likely that Lenore’s spectre will also have fire powers. Now, what is something that has wings and it linked to fires? That’s right, a Phoenix. This small point can be strengthen by what we know about Annabel’s spectre. Annabel’s spectre is freezing to the touch, which matches up with the colours associated to her. Since White Raven’s spectres are definitely going to parallel each other, this detail increases the possibility of Lenore’s spectre having fire based abilities, and as a result, increases the possibility of Lenore being a Phoenix.

While there are still loads of other ideas about what Lenore’s spectre will be going around, to me at least, Lenore’s spectre being at least Phoenix themed is definitely the strongest theory I’ve seen so far. If anyone else has any other ideas about what Lenore’s spectre will be, or if you have any other evidence supporting the idea that Lenore will be Phoenix themed, I would love to hear it!

[apocalypseornaw]

Don't Blame Me (Pt 1/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean's fear of flying explained, a demon he can't kill and so many questions as to what will happen next

Dean Winchester was a man that didn't fear very much so that would lead someone to question exactly where the fear of flying had come from. Was it some irrational fear? The concept alone or something so much more.

Very few people could mention the true root of Dean's fear of flying without him throwing a punch. The subject was and would always be a very sore one. The subject had left a gaping hole in his heart that he never would want to fill.

------------

Bobby's house was quiet, him and Sam had gone to bed hours before but Dean couldn't sleep. The anniversary of that crash was looming. The one that instilled a fear in him, that changed his life forever and ripped his heart out of his chest.

He sat at the small table in Bobby's kitchen peeling the label off of a lukewarm bottle of beer. The cord of the amulet he wore around his neck seemed to get heavier as the day drew near as if the ring that accompanied the amulet managed to have grown in weight.

He could close his eyes and see your smile, hear your laughter. Why hadn't he gone with you? Or offered to drive you? He knew the logical didn't hold up, him being on that plane wouldn't have changed your fate but he wouldn't have been facing yet another year without you.

That phone call still haunted him to this day. Dean stepped out of the bathroom, running a towel over his wet head. His phone blaring had summoned him out of the bathroom and into the outer area of the motel room him and Sam were crashing in for the night. Sam had gone after food and he was waiting for you to call him and let him know that your plane had landed in Dublin.

His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion when Bobby's number flashed across the screen instead. He sat down on the edge of the bed before answering it "Hey Bobby. What's going on?" There hadn't been many times he'd heard Bobby get emotional, let alone tears being in the older man's voice but it sent a chill directly down his spine even before Bobby spoke. "Dean you haven't seen the news have you?"

He shook his head then spoke into the phone "No, why?" Bobby took a shaky breath before asking "Is Sam there with you son? You don't need to be alone" Dean's heart felt like it was weighed down in that moment, refusing to believe what his brain had already pieced together "Bobby what is it?" "Dean just hold on now..." "GOD DAMMIT BOBBY JUST TELL ME!"

---------

Sam stopped at the door of the motel room juggling bags in his hands. He'd forgotten to take his cell and Dean was more than likely starving by this point.

He slid the keycard in and walked through the door. The moment he did the bags of food hit the floor. The room was trashed, the TV shattered and Dean was on his knees in the wreckage.

Sam ran to his brother's side, going down to his knees next to him "Dean?" He noticed the way Dean flinched as if just hearing his own name was painful "There was some sort of malfunction" the words seemed as if speaking them ripped something out of Dean but Sam still couldn't make sense of it.

When he remained silent Dean slowly raised his head and the tears in his eyes froze Sam in place "She's gone Sammy. Y/N is gone"

There was no body to be returned, no funeral to be had. Very few of your personal belongings had survived the crash and it'd taken Bobby and Dean lining up with the other families to go through what had gotten recovered to find those.

The ring around Dean's neck had been easy to spot. It had a simple promise Dean had always made to you engraved inside it "Even in death" he'd originally made the joke when he gave you the ring, citing that there was no till death due us part with the two of you because even in death you would be each other's.

Along with the ring had been your favorite bracelet that Dean had given to Bobby, the man had pratically raised you so he deserved something to hold onto as well. It was silver and had the different moon cycles around it. You'd found it at some flea market and had absolutely loved it.

----------

It seemed insane that a person could be narrowed down to a few objects and memories. A friend, a lover, a daughter. Gone in the blink of an eye and the ones that left being expected to move on as if they never existed.

A pop of thunder outside made Dean flinch. Of course it would be a thunderstorm, you had always loved them. What would it be like if you'd never gotten on that flight? That question would haunt him the rest of his life and beyond.

@lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898

[gravedigg]

Six Song Soundtrack Playlist

Tagged by @ferindencadash (thank you!!)

I'm filling this out for Angel, I'll write up a little list of explanations for each and link his playlist below <3

1. An event that defines your character's past

Bad luck never leaves Your jinx just floats around Like the taste inside your mouth Or the sound when your skull cracks Feel the growing pains It means you're growing up too fast While you were sleeping I was blood red Sharp as a knife inside your stomach I'm squeezing tight, don't let the light in No medicine Daydream tendencies had you smiling soft and sweet Keep those blurry memories somewhere safe You may need them You can make a wish But there's no rabbit out the hat Realize it's never coming back Realize it's never coming back

2. How your character sees themselves

Waiting for the train In the dead of night I howl We all have our evils We're told just to keep calm Curled up and feeble Plagued by our brains, the internal sinking pain I wish I was equal, if only that simple I wish I was people (I WISH!) The train it now arrives, I plead just take me home

3. How others view them

Driving faster in my car Falling farther from just what we are Smoke a cigarette and lie some more These conversations kill Falling faster in my car

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

Well, prove to me I'm not gonna die alone Unstitch that shit I've sewn To close up the hole that tore through my skin Well, my trust in you is a dog with a broken leg Tendons too torn to beg for you to let me back in You said, "I can't prove to you you're not gonna die alone But trust me to take you home To clean up that blood all over your paws

5. A major fight scene

As it fell on Job's eyes, this water of doubt, he said, "I'm wading in lies, it's wearing me out. But if you want it, all right. I'll buy it." Blood too dirty for mosquitos, I hope that you die soon. Pray to any god you believe in. Those people, they had families. Their families don't have them. You're not any god I believe in. I hope the rain ruins the work you did.

6. End credits song

It's okay, I don't even cry all I think about is a memory and the dream when you kissed my arm as I look away, don't hear what I say That maybe when I die, I'll get to be a car driving in the night lighting up the dark. something in your voice it sparks a little hope I'll wait up for that noise your voice become my home

All of these are from Angel's playlist which is organized as a timeline of his life, from his childhood in foster care, to enlisting in the army at 18, serving in the Gulf War and losing his leg, to the ensuing depression while he recovers and relearns how to walk, to his lengthy bender of sex & drugs when he moves to the city and finds out about gay bars, to him trying desperately to pull some semblance of a life together with what scraps of himself he has left.

As a bit of a guide;

An event that defines your character's past

This ones in reference to Angel's injury while serving in the army, an explosion tearing through his leg and shrapnel ripping up his shoulder and face. He spent a good amount of time bouncing between hospitals, from field hospitals to Germany and back state-side, and had to come to terms with the reality and severity of his injury.

2. How your character sees themselves

I think in many ways its always been this way, but it definitely worsened after being disfigured; Angel has always seen himself as less of a person and more of a monster, which is why he's always felt a sort of kinship with the Monster in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. I think its a potent cocktail of autism, self esteem issues, and the endless, clinging isolation of growing up in the foster system.

3. How others view them

I think from an outside view Angel comes off as really mysterious and cool, he's very serious and quiet and drives a motorcycle. But in reality hes just autistic and terribly uncomfortable and would rather be at home.

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

It takes so much patience and soft love to get Angel to unravel his layers and layers of bottled up shame and pain and desperation. He learned from a young age that to survive he needed to keep as much of himself hidden as he could, and he's clung to that sentiment his entire life. He struggles so much expressing when hes suffering and asking for help, will keep things bottled up even when he knows hes sabotaging himself.

5. A major fight scene

This one's the climax point of his experience with war, having whatever faith he clung to shaken hard when he saw sheer cruelty and mindless violence of it all.

6. End credits song

This is the last song on his playlist, to me it symbolizes this feeling of hope for a future that's really new for Angel, he's spent so long trying to just get through each day. Having someone by his side that he can dream of a future with is more than he could have ever asked for.

Also im tagging @nullshocked, make this for Jules pls.

And if you're reading this, you should do one for your oc :-)

[queenofbaws]

top 5 vhawke moments <3 (whether that be vhawke in general or your own interpretation)

gasp!!! challenge accepted ;)c heuheuhehueuhe guess i have to ramble now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

the numero uno is always going to be returning the tethras signet ring, because um??? hello???????? helLO????? hey i found this. the last real remaining physical object connecting you to your family. i thought you'd probably want it. yeah, it's a ring. yeah, no, there's nothing symbolic about that. it's fine. it's cool. i know you thought you'd never see it again. yeah, don't mention it :) LIKE WHERE DO YOU EVEN START WITH THAT THO??? the two characters. who slowly but surely. have suffered the agonizing losses of every. last. member. of their families. hawke knows what that ring means. varric knows hawke knows. they joke about the whole thing to avoid admitting it. HOW AM I MEANT TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS BIOWARE?!

"you people have done enough to her." just. just dig a hole for me to lie in. bury me. the ANGER in varric's voice. throughout 2 and even up until then in da:i, he's our fun little guy. jokes galore. sure there are moments here or there where that facade breaks, but in that moment, that fight with cassandra? he is. pissed. and he is. tired. he watched kirkwall eat at hawke for so long, watched the chantry take more than its fair share, and here's cassandra, suggesting it still wasn't enough? that she should've been at the conclave too? that after everything the powers that be took from her, stole from her, ripped out of her, how dare he hide her from them to protect what was left??????????? screams

i don't know if it counts as a "moment" per se, but god. just. hard in hightown. in general. aslkdjfalksjdf i don't know who reads. any snippet of that story. and walks away with a conclusion other than "oh, so like, he's in love-in love, huh? all right.' laughter like chantry bells. eyes the color of jewels. the picture of elegance and beauty even when she's in mourning. i see you, varric tethras. i fucking see you.

"i skipped the parts about us." 🥺 i will never. ever. recover. from knowing what we could've had, lmaooooooooooooooo. PERSONALLY, i am...so in love with the idea of a vhawke romance being completely off-screen, all considering. like there's no world in which varric was going to tell cassandra the details of his and hawke's relationship, no way. not happening. that little wink at the end would've been all i needed, and so i refuse to let it go 😫

finally, this is...so small comparatively, but in da:i, once you finish everything leading up to here lies the abyss, hawke and varric just hang out together in front of the war room, and...idk man. idk. it touches my heart every time. it's such a tiny little moment, absolutely unimportant, but you see them standing together like that, and for a moment - just for a SECOND - it feels like they're just. together. and chatting. and things are okay. you know things aren't normal. they know things aren't normal. but there they are, pretending and hoping the way they've done a million times before. *sniff*

[narratorstrash]

Realm’s Best (Dad) Boss

A short fic written by NarratorsTrash for my friend’s GreenKnightMonkie AU <3

(Warning; There’s like one (1) swear word)

It hadn’t taken Pigsy long to hire new help for the restaurant. With the newly merged realms, there had been plenty of displaced people looking for homes and jobs to recover from the sudden change. Pigsy and Sandy both got lucky in the merge; their respective homes were still standing and stable despite the horrible chaos that had ripped through every nearby world.

Tang’s apartment had been almost completely destroyed, having been ripped from it’s foundation and placed in this strange forest world with animal-like beings who knew nothing of humans but helped those who ended up in their corner of the new world anyway. Luckily Tang wasn’t actually in the building when it happened, but having to travel all the way there to rummage the mess for his belongings was difficult to say the least. In the end, Tang moved in with Pigsy.

In truth, the company helped the chef after the loss of his best employee (and son), MK. It was a hard blow he didn’t take well at all, even with the help from his old friends. Mei hadn’t reacted any better than him either.

Within mere hours, MK’s missing poster joined thousands of others on boards and light poles and building walls. But after four years, there was no word on his condition or location. Not even a word from the kid himself. Every day that passed without any information on him was like a jagged knife digging deeper into Pigsy’s heart. He didn’t know how much more he could take…

But when two young adults showed up at his business, hungry and ragged, he didn’t hesitate to hire them. Sure, Aaron could be too excitable for his own good and Harumi was a former convicted felon in one part of the merged realms, but they were hard workers and, in a way, reminded Pigsy of his missing son. It was a painful reminder at first, but now he saw a little light from both of them that helped him slowly escape the dark pit he’d been thrown into.

Aaron seemed to enjoy the stories Tang told, much to Tang’s elation, and Mei and Harumi seemed to have bonded over complicated family— though Harumi never spoke much about her previous life beyond that she lost people and experienced plenty of hardships. Pigsy didn’t particularly care where the two came from as long as they didn’t pull any tricks or hurt his family, they could work for him as long as they wanted.

One day, during a lunch rush, Aaron was running deliveries and Harumi was helping Pigsy in the kitchen when she accidentally dropped a half finished dish. She got frustrated— understandably— and snapped at Pigsy when he tried to place a hand on her shoulder. After that, she seemed to realize what she did and locked herself in the bathroom to calm down, leaving the mess on the floor for the chef to clean. It had been annoying, but Pigsy was sure it had been more upsetting for Harumi than himself.

When she finally left her self-imposed prison, she had grabbed the broom only to find the mess already gone. She seemed confused at first, then surprised, then shook it off to sweep the entire floor as a sort of silent apology. Pigsy thought about getting on her case, but thought better of it when he saw the familiar furrowed brow of emotional distress MK used to unintentionally pull when he knew he was in trouble. Another reminder, yet another sharp sting of memories.

Harumi remained silent for the rest of her shift, even when Aaron came back for the last deliveries of the day and when Mei stopped to ask the two employees if they wanted to visit the arcade with her. Aaron was more than happy to go, but Harumi just gave a ‘no thanks’ and holed up in the apartment above the restaurant. The two young adults had asked what happened, to which Pigsy told them she just made a mistake earlier and was being hard on herself for it. Aaron said he would talk to her after he got back to check she was okay and suggested to make sure she got something to eat. According to him, she struggled to take care of herself when she got like this.

At that point, only knowing her for about half a year, Pigsy could tell she didn’t do well with failure of any kind, so he knew what Aaron was saying was true. He and Mei left quickly after that, leaving Pigsy to figure out what to do with the angsting girl in her shop.

•.~~~~~.•

After debating it and searching all the cookbooks he could, he settled on cooking some comfort food his grandmother and mother would make whenever something went wrong— pineapple buns. They weren’t all that complicated and they always made him feel better, so it was a pretty easy decision.

He made his way up the stairs and knocked on the door, hoping she hadn’t fallen asleep immediately after clocking out. The only response he got was the door opening just a crack and a redish-brown eyes peeking out at him.

He cleared his throat, “Hey Rumi. I know yer probably a little upset about droppin’ those noodles earlier, but ya don’t needa be.”

She still didn’t respond, glancing away in shame for a split second.

“Anyways, I made some pineapple buns an’ thought ya might want some.”

He waited for a moment, then another. Finally, Harumi answered.

“Thank you…” she mumbled, opening the door enough to receive the food.

He handed the plate off to her and smiled softly, relived she took the offering. After that, he simply let her be, busying himself with wiping down tables and mopping until Aaron got back. When he entered the door, he had a large smile and appeared to be hiding something behind his back. He bid a quick hello and good night to the chef and bolted up to his and Harumi’s shared room. Pigsy huffed, too accustomed to Mei’s similar behavior to question it. Hopefully his employees would be at a hundred percent by opening tomorrow.

•.~~~~~.•

When he unlocked his shop and entered, his yawn was interrupted when he spotted an unfamiliar mug on the counter he preferred to work on. He hung up his bag and approached it with a little wariness, picking it up and turning it to see what the words were.

Printed in a neat font, it read ‘World’s Best Boss’.

Pigsy was more than mature enough to admit his eyes watered just a little when he understood the gift and who had got it. Damn those kids and their friendship with the ever mischievous Mei…

[jjsmaybank20]

Broken

Natasha Romanoff x GN!Stark!Reader

Summary: Dealing with the loss of your family broke you more than you could know. All Clint can do is support you the best he can.

Warnings: Literally just angst. Language, legal-age drinking

Word Count: 587

A/N: Enjoy this super angsty blurb that I thought of in a dream. I kind of hate the ending, but what can you do.

navigation  marvel masterlist

---

It had been 6 years since the first blip, 1 since everyone had been brought back. You know you should be happy for the people who got their families back, but how could you? You lost almost everyone who was ever important to you.

After the final battle, you sunk into a deep depression. Drinking yourself to sleep every night, not being able to face the nightmares without it. It got to the point where you were almost never sober.

Finally, Clint had had enough. Enough of your self pity, enough of your destructive habits. He decided to interfere. Showing up at your house, he banged harshly on the door. When you didn’t answer, he picked the lock and came in.

He found you on the couch with a whiskey bottle in hand. He wants to give you a piece of his mind, but he can’t do it after seeing how broken you look. He stands in front of you, shaking his head disappointedly. 

“How could you do this to yourself? Natasha would hate seeing you like this.” As soon as he says that, you spring up and get right in his face. “Don’t you dare say that to me. Don’t you fucking dare. You still have your wife, your kids. You got them back. For me, everything is gone.” 

Clint shakes his head, disagreeing with you. You stare at him before practically yelling, “My girlfriend, gone. My best friend, gone. My brother, gone.” 

You put a hand up to stop Clint from interrupting, knowing that he was going to try to cheer you up. “And don’t give me some ‘they’re never truly gone’ bullshit. Yes they fucking are. I know she was your best friend, Clint, but she was the love of my fucking life. I had everything planned out. I mean, I was going to propose! We were- we were gonna-“ Your voice cracks. 

You let out a sob and sink to the floor, making Clint rush over and wrap his arms around you. “We were gonna move to a big house in the suburbs, maybe adopt a few cats, and just live a normal fucking life. But just like that, our dream got ripped from us, and I’m left with this- this- gaping hole in my chest that nothing can fill. At least the booze makes it smaller.”

All Clint can do is hold you and listen while you pour your heart out. He holds you tightly until you calm down slightly. “Look, Y/N. I can’t tell you that you’ll ever feel whole again, because that hole is always going to be there. It’s just going to get smaller as time goes on. What you need to do to honor their memory is pick yourself back up and try to heal. They’re looking down on you, and they can see that you’re in pain. It’s time to start to try again.”

You nod slightly in the mans’ arms, knowing that he’s right. “I don’t know how to heal. I just- I just don’t know.” You whimper out. Clint squeezes you, knowing that what you need right now is the comfort of a friend. 

“How about you come and stay with me and Laura for a while? We wouldn’t mind. I actually have some people that I want you to meet. What do you think?” You give Clint a weak smile, giving in to his attempt to help. 

Healing would take time, but with your newfound support system, maybe you would be able to recover.

—

Join my taglist!

[x-theolivia]

You bring the best out of me

Fairy Tail Masterlist - Navigation

Request: @the-letter-horror-lover - I was wondering if I could may have a Fairy tail Platonic young love headcanon between Wendy Marvell and a male S/O Gray Fullbuster's little brother who is the same age as Wendy. The only thing is S/O is pretty much considered as a rather cold kid figuratively..exactly like Ciel Phantomhive from Black Butler. (Wendy brought out the best in Gray's younger brother)

Summary: You think you won’t need friends. That their just some waste of time. But Wendy Marvell thinks otherwise.

Pairing: platonically Wendy Marvell x male!Reader

Warning: platonically fluff and none, I guess but If you find something, let me know

Authors Note: Fairy Tail doesn’t belong to me and so does this gif. This is my first request and I just write something stupid down. But I hope you like it and I‘m so sorry for my bad english

-

You don’t need friends, that’s what you though your whole life

You are alone in this world. That’s what you think.

Your brother, Gray Fullbuster, were always busy with Lyon and left you behind. You learned what you can do alone. Just Ur taught you how you use your Ice Magic.The loneliness left a big hole in your heart and you said to yourself: before this happens again, I won‘t let anyone near me, ever again… and so you did

7 years ago, Ur died. The last one you let near you just disappeared out of your life.

Your brother dragged you with him. This is the story how you became a part of Fairy Tail.

At first everyone tried to cheer you up. Tried to be your friend. But your family left a big hole in you and nobody seems to be able to stuff this. After months they stopped trying and you became the only one in this guild without a group. Even your brother left you behind and it hurt you.

2 years ago Wendy became a part of Fairy Tail and you - a grumpy, cold, arrogant brat - caught her attention. She was shy at first but when you snapped at her she was determined to become your friend. Come what may.

-

Your sitting in the hall and mind your own business, everyone is chatting around you but no one is chatting with you. You’re fine with that. Everyone knows that you don’t want friends.

She sits in front of you, her eyes never leave you but you’re too annoyed to keep this up

„What do you want Marvell?“ you ask her before you roll your eyes at her

„Keeping you company. You seemed so lonely“ she answers and you didn’t like it

„I‘m not lonely! I‘m minding my own business. You should do the same, Marvell“ you snap at her but she doesn’t flinch, instead she shows you a sheet of paper. A mission.

„Go with me on this mission!“ she asks and looks at you with puppy eyes, it makes something inside you twitch

You rip the paper out of her hand and start reading:

It’s a request from a village known as Eldoria, located deep within the enchanted forest. It seems that a mysterious and ancient tome, said to hold unimaginable power, has been stolen from the village‘s sacred temple. The village elders are desperate to recover the tome before it falls into the wrong hands, as it‘s magic could bring devastation to the realm.

The tome is believed to be hidden within a treacherous labyrinth, guarded by powerful magical creatures and intricate traps.

„Why would you ask me? Go with Natsu or somebody else!“ you try to scare Wendy away but she shakes her head

„I want to go with you! pretty, pretty please!“ she‘s too determined

„Fine, whatever“ you roll your eyes but her eyes shine like diamonds

Secretly you’re as excited as she is

-

„Thank you so much for your help. You see, this tome is very special for our village and if we don’t get it back and the tome falls into false hands… it could be the end!“ the eldest says when you and Wendy arrive at Eldoria

You stand in front of this called labyrinth. It seems scary and dark but you’re not afraid. You call yourself fearless… way too often

„Don’t worry, we will find the tome. My friend is pretty good with his magic“ she says and heat rises in your cheeks. Friends.

You step inside the labyrinth and the hedge behind you closes itself. You‘re trapped in this labyrinth.

You first stop is a glade and the trees seems to whisper. They are possess by a mischievous spirit. They whisper some easy riddles and puzzles, that help you navigate through them.

You take the lead. Wendy seems not quite to understand so you grab her wrist and guide her through the forest.

The next stop is a hidden chamber adorned with glistening crystals but they don’t seem right. Wendy starts to turn and push the crystals around until she reveals a secret passage behind them

„How do you do this?“ you ask confused

„They looked not right so I turn them until it looks beautiful“ she explains with a big, proud grin

„Pft. Girls“ you mutter, but secretly you’re impressed by her

When you go over the secret passage you get into a grand chamber that is protected by an ancient staue. A guardian who tests your wisdom and knowledge.

He asks you a series of riddles and question and you need to get them right. You take the lead again. Your knowledge isn’t small but one question is pretty hard and you stand there, stammer something but don’t get the answer. Wendy jumps in and answers the question right.

The guard is impressed and let you through

„Thanks“ you whisper but she smiles at you, which melt your heart

„You’re welcome, Y/N“

The last challenge awaits you two in the heart of the labyrinth. You face a series of elemental trials, each representing a different force of nature. You must demonstrate your ability to resist fire, water, earth and air to unlock the chamber where the tome resides.

It was not that easy because your ice can’t do much against the elements but Wendy helps you out with her magic of a Dragonslayer.

„You ok?“ she asks when you sink on your knees to take a breath

„Yeah, I‘m fine“ and for the first time you smile at her. She stands there, shock in her eyes but it forms into happiness before she storms into your arms and give you the biggest hug in your life

After overcoming the challenges of the labyrinth, you reach the final chamber, where you find the stolen enchanted tome hidden away.

However, you soon realize that an infamous dark guild seeks to claim its power for themselves

A fierce battle ensues as you and Wendy defeat the dark guild, ensuring its safety

With the tome recovered, you return to Eldoria to the joyous celebration of the villagers, who are grateful for your heroic efforts

You stand besides, let the other celebrate, when Wendy come up to you

„You did a great job, Y/N“ she says and smiles at you

„You weren’t bad yourself, Marvell“ you give her also a little smile before she stick out her hand to you

Confused you look at her and her hand

„Friends?“ she asks nicely and tilts her head to the right

„Yeah, whatever“ you gave her your hand and she drags you into the celebrations

The mission is a success, and the power of the enchanted tome remains safeguarded, preserving the harmony of the magical realm.

-

When you return to Fairy Tail everyone can see your change. You smile more often and go on missions with Wendy… and Wendy only

Even your brother looks at you and feels proud of you to find a friend in Wendy

Sometime it seems that you’re still grumpy but you aren’t

One day, Gray Fullbuster goes up to Wendy.

„Thank you, Wendy“ he says but she doesn’t understand

„You bring the best out of my brother“ he explains but she just smile and hug Gray tight

[warriors-rewritten-chaos]

Family Reunion Gone Very, Very Wrong

Alderpaw meets his great-grandpa for the first time!

Based on the Cursed!Redtail AU by Sammi Safetypin on YouTube

TW for body horror, general horror, gore, blood, mentions of nausea and vomiting, graphic overuse of commas and italics, and terrible writing

General rundown on the AU proper as I understand it: Redtail fights off Tigerclaw instead of being killed by him and StarClan gives him the gift/power of immortality as a result to use in continued service and protection of his clan. He eventually loses his mind completely due to the constant grief from losing all of his family and his continued life. He believes that everything is a threat to his clan and becomes zealously, murderously overprotective of them. He ends up killing Jayfeather and Lionblaze, with Hollyleaf only surviving by escaping to the tunnels and Dovewing survives only by having her clanmates discover what’s happening and save her. Redtail is brutally mauled and driven off but still doesn't die.

Also, any wounds Redtail gets never close or heal (or stop bleeding, I think).

Alderpaw likes going foraging. Most things make him nervous, like treating patients or talking to other cats, but foraging is always a guaranteed calm affair. He likes seeing if he can recognize specific kinds of plants and keeping track of how many he recognizes. Sometimes he sees small animals running about and watches them. Yes, foraging for herbs is a comforting task.

But it isn’t today.

Alderpaw freezes as a bizarre sensation registers in his brain. His paw is sticky where he’d just stepped. When he shakily raises it to get a better look at what he stepped in, he’s hit with the overwhelming smell of blood. And it isn’t any animal blood either. There are chunks of calico-patterned fur stuck in it as well.

At this point, Alderpaw is shaking so badly he can hardly stand. But he manages to steel his nerves. If there's this much blood, the cat that’s bleeding must be very badly hurt. They could even bleed out if not treated quickly enough! While Alderpaw might be a coward, he isn’t going to just stand idly by as a cat suffers. He reluctantly goes sprinting off in the direction the blood trail leads.

When he sees what the cat that made the trail looks like, Alderpaw immediately wishes he hadn’t followed them.

The calico is laying in a pool of their own blood, still as stone. Their fur is absolutely covered in both lacerations and the blood still pouring from them despite the cat apparently being dead. They have to be dead. No cat could survive wounds this severe. When he looks, he can see the cat’s intestines peeking out from a hole in their gut and the inside of their throat from the deepest claw wound he’s ever seen. 

Alderpaw is shaking again. He feels the bile rising, can taste it on his tongue. Even when he vomits, he can’t turn away. He’s shaking so hard he can’t move. His heart is pounding so hard it hurts. He’s going to die from fear. Leafpool had told him it could happen. He’s going to die. He’s going to die. Why had he followed the trail?

Suddenly, the cat shudders and jerks and yanks themself to their feet as if they had suddenly returned to life. As they move, the gashes gush and tear further and their organs peek out through their stomach just a bit more. With quick, jerky movements as if recovering from rigor mortis, the cat turns their head and looks directly at Alderpaw. Their eyes are wild and bloodshot, opened almost unnaturally wide as if something was physically holding them open. Their claws- at least the ones that don’t appear to have been ripped out- are unsheathed and their teeth are bared.

While the cat had almost looked ready to kill Alderpaw at first, their posture changes the more they look at him. It seems to soften in a way, but their desperately wide-eyed expression never changes, even as they somehow speak despite their throat being torn so wide open Alderpaw thinks he can see their vocal cords move as they do.

“S q u i r r e l f l i g h t?”

His voice is rasping and cuts out several times. It isn’t nearly as deep as Alderpaw’s father’s is but definitely enough to identify the cat as a tom. Never mind that! He called Alderpaw by his mother’s name... Does this monster know Alderpaw’s mother?

When Alderpaw doesn’t react, the tom steps closer. He hasn’t blinked at all throughout this entire painfully long exchange. Can he even blink? How is he standing? Is he even alive? Why is he bleeding so much?

“D o n ‘ t  y o u  r e m e m b e r  m e?”

The tom tilts his head with a jarring snap and another gush of fresh blood onto the grass beneath him. His mouth curls into a too-wide smile that shows all of his bloodied, yellow teeth. Just how much blood does this cat even have to be losing all of it and still have more?!

“I t ‘ s  m e . . .  Y o u  r e m e m b e r  g r a n d p a  R e d t a i l,  d o n ‘ t  y o u?”

That name makes Alderpaw’s heart stop. He knows of Redtail, of course, he’d have to live with moss stuffed in his ears to not know. He’s heard stories of his great-grandfather, a cat who had been given a great blessing and mission by StarClan only to have gone mad and murdered two of the Prophecy Cats. He had been driven off after that, thought gone for good. But he clearly wasn't. He’s right there in front of Alderpaw’s eyes, real and horribly wretched and still alive.

As the lacerated tom steps closer and closer, the scent of blood is overpowering, choking in it’s stench. Up close, it’s so, so obvious that Redtail should be dead. He can see all of his wounds, can see his veins his organs everything that he shouldn't see. Alderpaw is terrified, and just as the monster nearly reaches him...

Alderpaw bolts.

“C o m e  b a c k!” Redtail screeches, claws just nearly missing Alderpaw’s flank as the apprentice runs as fast as he possibly can. He doesn't dare look behind him. He can hear Redtail’s agonized cries filled with rage echoing behind him as the demonic tom continues to give chase.

“Y o u  c a n ‘ t  l e a v e!”

“I  w o n ‘ t  l e t  y o u!”  

“D o n ‘ t  l e a v e  m e  a l o n e  a g a i n!”

Don’t stop running don’t stop running don’t stop running don’t stop running

That mantra is on repeat, echoing throughout Alderpaw’s brain as he runs. He keeps running even when the desperate shouts fade and cease. He keeps running even as he tastes blood from how hard his heart has been beating for so long. He keeps running even when he gets back to camp, sprinting straight into the Medicine Den and practically bowling over Leafpool in his efforts to get inside get to safety help me protect me save me-

“Alderpaw?!” His mentor exclaims in shock right before Alderpaw passes out from exhaustion.

...

As Leafpool frets over her nephew, a pair of wide, bloodshot eyes watch them from the trees.

“A t  l a s t . . .  I ‘ m  f i n a l l y  b a c k . . .

M y  p r e c i o u s  f a m i l y . . .  I ‘ l l  p r o t e c t  y o u . . .”

[steviefm]

[  chase  sui  wonders,  24,  she/her,  cisfemale  ]    ››   look,  stevie  chen  just  tweeted !   said  they're  going  on  tour  with  thieves  soon,  and  they  can't  wait  to  bump  celebrity  skin  by  hole  on  the  road.  they  mentioned  something  about  attempting  to  run  from  the  cops  in  every  city  too.  the  group's  sound engineer  is  known  to  be  magnetic  but  hot-headed,  so  it  makes  sense  lol.  anyway,  excited  to  see  them.

** tw: mentions of death below the cut. **

stevie chen was born november 12, 1997 in seattle, washington. she was not a wanted child — her parents were both barely 21, entering their senior year of college at UW. a baby was the last thing on their minds. and yet, laura and eric loved stevie deeply as soon as she arrived. they got married a year later, after laura graduated ( eric, try as he might, could not finish his business degree, and ended up dropping out with just a few credits remaining. )

yes, she was named after stevie nicks. and yes, her younger brother, born two years later, was named bowie after ziggy stardust himself. as it turned out, laura and eric weren’t entirely compatible — the sweet elementary school teacher and the grown-up frat boy, who would have guessed? — but the one thing they could agree on was music. 

their inevitable divorce, when stevie was 6, was amicable, and laura got full custody of both kids. eric had begun continued to drink heavily after college, and it was agreed laura could take better care of their kids. 

stevie grew up a bit of a rebellious child, with a lot of energy and nowhere to put it. it didn’t help that as bowie entered school, he was picked on, and little stevie fought fiercely to protect her brother. she got into trouble frequently at school, and laura was not having it, asking her to please think before she acted.

what stevie wanted, more than anything, was to be like her mom — sweet and kind and loving and talented. but try as she might, she had no talent for instruments, and her voice was tuneful but not beautiful. though laura never pushed her into music and performing, stevie could tell she was disappointed, and that hurt even more than when she was mad. 

even so, they were a tight-knit little family, them against the world, and stevie relied heavily on her mom. through her, she developed a love for music, particularly riot grrrl bands of the 90s — laura’s favorite.

however, their family was ripped apart when stevie was 13. on her way home from work, laura was involved in a car accident that put her in a coma. stevie and bowie spent weeks by her bedside until, having been informed that she was unlikely to recover, the family made the difficult decision to take her off life support. 

all the energy stevie had spent trying to be more like her mom, thoughtful and kind and generous? that evaporated with laura’s death. all she was left with was grief, and unending rage. 

stevie and bowie were sent to live with their father, having no other relatives in america who were willing to take on two grieving pre-teens. unfortunately, he intended to do little to take care of his children, leaving stevie to be the primary caregiver for her brother and her father. 

high school was difficult, as stevie worked two jobs to keep the lights on — one at a record store, the other moonlighting in audio engineering at concert events. the basement scene in seattle welcomed her in even with all her fire, and for the first time in a long time she managed to make some friends, including a few future members of thieves. plus, it meant she didn’t have to spend as much time at home. as it turned out, she wasn’t a musician, but she sort of had a knack for sound.  

she went off to college at berklee for two years on scholarship, but dropped out when she couldn’t make the money work anymore. it remains one of the biggest regrets in her life. ultimately, though, it led her back to thieves, and she’s been working with them ever since.

personality-wise, stevie is honestly a bit of a bitch — she’s very blunt, short-tempered, and can be straight up mean to people she doesn’t know. not to be cliche, but it’s a wall that guards away the damage inside and makes sure that her fears or being hurt or abandoned again will never be realized. 

if you do manage to get to know her, she is fiercely loyal and funny, and a truly caring person. she’s weirdly charming despite her negative qualities?? people do seem very drawn to her for some reason.

i will have a bio up soon >:) but here is her stats page and here are some wanted connection posts to inspire u 

[thedrarrylibrarian]

Hi Librarian! I hope your having a wonderful day. I've been looking for some Drarry memory loss fics, but I haven't seemed to find any. I was wondering if you have any you could recommend? Thanks so much!

Hello! I am having a wonderful day! I hope you're also having a wonderful day, and if not, I have news that might help it be wonderful - your holds have arrived!

Memory Loss

So You May Remember This by @stargazing-enby and @tepre (486 words, rated G)

Draco meets the wrong end of a curse and has to reacquaint himself with his life for a day.

Nothing Like a First Kiss by @tontonguetonks (1,598 words, rated G)

Harry lost his memory while on the job. Five years later, he has a husband who he doesn't remember marrying... or that they used to hate each other.

Ship of Theseus by GallaPlacidia (18,240 words, rated T)

When Harry gets amnesia and forgets he and Draco were ever married, he refuses treatment to remember.

In Pursuit of Lost Marbles by @graymatters (22,096 words, rated T)

Every night after work, Healer Malfoy follows the same routine, beginning with a familiar flight of stairs that leads to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's. With an air of professionalism, he introduces himself to Harry, his husband of seven years, when a memory curse makes Harry look at him like a stranger. He tries not to flinch when Harry calls him sir, but he smiles when bits of the old Harry emerge. Eventually, Draco leads Harry to the Pensieve where he shows him pieces of the life they've built together, what Harry will come home to, one day, when this is all over.

Then, Draco waits. He waits, and he hopes.

The Coldest of Days by Anonymous (54,683 words, rated E)

At thirty-one, Harry Potter finally has it all: four incredible children, a naughty Niffler named Penny, and a brilliant boyfriend who has managed to fill the hole in his heart. But because Harry is Harry, chaos is bound to follow. On a cold December morning, Draco wakes up with no memory of the war, his children, or his life with Harry. That, and he’s insisting that he’s been thrown fifteen years into the future.

Charming Chocolates by @fantom-ftnoise (100,867 words, rated T)

The summer following the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter visited his parents' graves and disappeared in a mysterious attack. His wand was recovered but the trail soon went cold and the world moved on. Twelve years later, Remus Lupin discovers James Charming, of Charming Chocolates, a mute man with no memories before July of 1998.

James Charming, father of identical twin boys and loving boyfriend to a Scottish Muggle named Monty, is ripped out of his comfortable life and forced to rediscover Hogwarts, magic, and a whole world of past memories. His Mind Healer helps him to balance his new life with his old memories. A rift is formed between James and Monty, and he finds himself wanting to spend more and more time with Healer Malfoy. Meanwhile, Auror Weasley tries to solve the mystery of who is out for Harry Potter's head before it's too late.

I Do Not Love You by @writandromance (228,290 words, rated M)

In 2013, a carefully-designed Obliviation leaves Harry reconfiguring his life and identity without any memories of true love; an act that's essentially erased Draco Malfoy from his mind despite a wedding band and shared home.

In 2000, Draco had expected Pansy's relationship with Luna to bring the Gryffindors a bit closer to his orbit of quiet, carefully pacifistic existence, but he never expected to navigate such a transparent embrace into a unit of family, friendship, and love.

A mystery, two love stories, and a reminder that learning to love never has an end date.

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Lots of Love and Happy Reading!

[lazysimp]

Dark Clouds (+18) /// Shoto x Male Reader

Click HERE to read the Fem version

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only Minors DNI

Summary:  You love Shoto more than anything but what if you were the only thing standing in between him and his dreams? Smut+Angst

A prequel to Cloud Nine.

Word count: 3k+

Warnings/tags: Angst, Blackmail, Morning Sex, Breakup, Soft Dom Shoto, Praise, Explicit sexual content, Oral sex (receiving), He/Him pronouns, All characters are adults.

masterlist┃AO3

“Oh fuck Shoto! Please just a little more,” You beg, your back arching off the bed as you push his head down. Your fiancé had made it a habit to wake you up with his mouth on your cock, licking up your cum like it was his last meal.

After living together for a month you thought he would finally start to calm down but his need for you had only grown. He had barely left the apartment, deciding to take a vacation to spoil you instead of working on climbing the ranks. You tried to convince him to focus more on his career, but he would drop to his knees every time you brought it up.

“I love this pretty cock,” He groaned, swiping his tongue over your tender glands as more precum leaked from your slit. His lips closed around your tip, sucking it into his mouth while his fingers teased your tight hole.

You yelp and clench your thighs, caging in his head but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, your soft thighs against his ears sent him into a frenzy. He thrust his long fingers into you, curling them up to press against your sweet spot.

Your body bolts up, curling around his head but he continued on, never giving you an ounce of mercy. With your head directly above his, the lewd sounds of his mouth filled your ear, sending you further down the rabbit hole.

He released your cock from his mouth and moved to your hole to gather more of your addicting taste with his tongue. “My baby has such a good hole. So tight and hot, and it’s all mine.”

You let out a whine at his praise, you wanted to always belong to him. To never leave his side as he rose to meet his dreams.

He added a third lubed finger into your ass, stretching you open in preparation for his cock. You hiss at the slight burn but it fades quickly as his expert fingers began to fall in temperature, soothing the ache. He had always been so considerate during sex, always making sure you were well stretched before he ever tried to enter you.

The first time the two of you had sex was not the greatest but it was a moment in your life you would never forget. For hours he explored your body, experimenting and exploring you to understand exactly what you liked. By the end of the night, you were both absolutely exhausted, barely able to move.

His tongue returned to your cock, teasing the side of it with the tongue as his fingers continue to pump into your ass. Your breathing grows frantic and your body becomes tight as the pleasure swelled inside you. You could feel your thighs tremble around his head and your hands shake.

He smiled as your sweet hole trembled around his fingers, his baby was close. Remembering to not speed up he kept his movements consistent, listening for your little mewls to direct his touch.

As your breathing grew more labored and body tense he took you all the way into his mouth, sucking to pull every last ounce of pleasure from you. It was the final straw, he watched in awe as you fell apart. Your ass milking his fingers while your cock pulsed in his mouth with each spurt of cum.

Normally he would keep his mouth on your cock, cleaning up your orgasm with his tongue but he had to be at work in twenty minutes. Grudgingly he moved his mouth from your sex and rose to his knees. He gently slid his hands under you and flipped you over, exposing your mouthwatering ass to his view.

Holding his breath to stop from cumming, he lifted your hips up and pushed your back down. It looked as though you were presenting yourself to him. While he loved watching your face as you cum, this view definitely had its perks.

Lining his tip with your entrance he watched himself sink into you. Your cute moans filling his ears, serenading him as he bottomed out. Wanting a better view, he grabbed your ass with his large hands and spread it open, exposing your tight rosebud. He ignored your squeal of protest and started to thrust, watching you take his cock so perfectly.

Each thrust into your tight heat drove him further into insanity. He would never grow tired of this, tired of you. He still wasn’t sure how he managed to get you to agree to marry him, it still felt unreal, like someone was going to rip the floor out from under him. Something as good as you never happened to someone like him, something always messed it up.

“Shoto,” You whine, dragging him out of his thoughts. “Fuck, I need more.”

Determined to have you cum around his cock he reached around and wrapped his hand around the base of your cock. He let out a sly grin watching your body jerk as he thrust his hand, knowing the extra stimulation would send you right over the edge.

“Please, Shoto, please,” You begged, the tight coil inside your chest reeling tighter with each lazy pump of his hand. You lose the ability to speak, only moans leaving your lips.

“That’s it, that is my good boy. So perfect for me. I want you to cum on my cock while I watch,” He says hoarsely behind you. That was all it took, the spring inside you snapped sending you spiraling into oblivion.

Your toes curl in uncontrollably as you scream into the pillow, the brutal waves of pleasure crashing into you. You couldn’t even breathe as your rode out each pulsing wave. His hand did not stop milking your cock, instead teasing you through the high. Making you ride the wave as long as possible before his thrusts started to fall out of rhythm.

You lay face down into the bed, exhausted as he finally falls apart. You could feel his cock pulse inside you as his cum fills you. Once he finally finished he rolled off the top and laid next to you, pulling you into his arms.

You both lay there for a few minutes, not needing words as you recover from the morning quickie. Shoto pushed himself up on his elbows and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. He then stood out of bed and started to get ready. You lie in bed and watch as he dons his uniform and smooths out his sex hair.

“I should be home for dinner today, I am only scheduled to patrol until five.”

You nod, “Do you want to go out? Mina said the new soba place was really good.”

Shoto flashed you a warm smile, “I would love that, I’ll see you tonight.”

You push up on your elbows to meet his lips for one last kiss before he leaves. No matter how many times you kissed him, he always managed to take your breath away. You bring your hand up to his cheek as he slowly pulled away and looked into his eyes.

“Please be safe.”

He tilts his head into your hand, giving you some of its weight. “Don’t worry, I promise I will always come back to you.”

You drop your hand and lay back down, watching as he leaves the confines of the bedroom, and listened for the front door to close. Slipping on one of your lazy shirts, you make your way to the kitchen. You grab a few ingredients and cook a quick breakfast, eating it while you watch the news. Thankfully there was nothing big going on in the city, only a few petty criminals.

Shoto was more capable of taking care of himself but it was hard not to worry. You knew what you signed up for when you agreed to go out with Shoto, but he made all the stress and worry worth it.

You sit at the small counter and eat your breakfast. You avoid scheduling anything on your days off just in case they let Shoto off early so you had nothing planned. You put your dishes in the sink and start to collect some laundry, you could at least clean up some before you rested.

A loud buzz filled the apartment signaling someone was wanting to come up. You drop off the laundry and click on the speaker. Shoto had chosen this apartment because of the added security measures in place. No one could come up to the floor without a key or explicit permission.

“Hello?” You say into the small mic, unsure who would be asking to come up. Shoto hadn’t mention anyone planning on coming over.

“Can I come up?” The deep powerful voice of Endeavor said to the mic.

For a brief moment, your heart stopped. You tried to frantically think of what to say but no words came to mind. You had only ever met him once and you had Shoto by your side. You know he does not approve of your relationship with Shoto, after all, Shoto is going to be one of the world’s strongest heroes and you were well you.

“Just a minute,” You say to buy time as you debate whether or not to call Shoto. On one hand, having him by your side would keep Endeavor in line but on the other, you should be able to handle being around your fiance’s father. After all once you get married he will be family.

You suck in a stabilizing breath and call down to the front desk to give Endeavor permission to come up. While you waited for him to arrive you run to the bedroom and quickly put on a more presentable outfit. You still wanted to call Shoto, to have his supporting hand at the small of your back as you talk to the flame hero.

Three stern knocks signaled that Endeavor had arrived. You turn the knob and ignore the dread filling your stomach, you could do this. Endeavor knew better than to hurt you, he probably just wanted to talk about your engagement.

You stood frozen in the doorway and stare at the flame hero. He did not have any of his usual fire blazing, letting you see his natural hair better. Without his flames or hero uniform, he was a lot less intimidating.

You plaster on your best smile, “Please, come in.”

He steps into your shared apartment and takes off his shoes. You smile, this was definitely a good start. You both silently make your way to the dining room and sit. You were unsure what you need to do so you sit silently and wait.

Endeavor cleared his throat, “This is a very nice place the two of you share. Shoto chose well.”

You give a cautious smile, “I do really love this apartment. I have never lived somewhere with a view as nice as this one and it is easy for both of us to get to work from here.”

Endeavor nodded, “I won’t waste any more of your time, pretending to be here for a visit. I am sure you have seen the news lately. Shoto has fallen over two spots in rank compared to last year. After evaluating his skills and performance in the field, my agency has determined that his fall in rank is due to the amount of time he is taking off.”

You stiffen in your seat, scared of where this is going to go.

“I allowed this relationship to continue as it was not worth getting Shoto upset with my interference, but this is going too far. You are ruining his chances at becoming the number one hero.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, “Excuse me!”

Endeavor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small booklet. He opens it to reveal a single check. He pushes it over to you, the box for the amount was blank.

“You fill out how much you want to leave this relationship.”

“You can’t be serious, what kind of person do you think I am?”

Endeavor’s face held no emotion, “How much?”

Your face twists in anger, “Fuck you! I’m not leaving Shoto, not for any amount of money. You can take this check and shove it-”

“If you do not leave I will be forced to take action.”

A rush of fear runs through you, “What do you mean?”

Endeavor sighed, “I let Shoto leave my agency with the understanding that he would still work to climb his way to the top. He is no longer doing this. If he continues like this I will have to call up the agency he is working at and have him removed from their staff.”

“Removed, you mean fired. You will have him fired because he is going to marry me?” Your throat began to grow tight as the world started to close in around you.

“I am going to have him removed because he can’t do his job properly and be with you.”

You begin to shake, “And how is that going to help him become the number one hero?”

“Simple, he will have to come work for me again. Under my influence, he will take over the number one spot in no time.”

“You know he hates working for you. He loves the agency he is working at, you would rip that way from him?”

Endeavor’s flames started to sprout, “I have seen too many heroes with potential never amount to anything because of relationships like yours. I will be damned if the same happens to Shoto.”

“So I will talk to Shoto about not taking as much time off.” You try to reason.

Endeavor shakes his head, “It is far too late for that. It is not just me who is taking notice to his slacking. If he continues to behave the way he is, I won’t even need to make the call to have him removed. If you want him to not have to work for me you will leave him or all of this will be your fault.”

Endeavor stands to his full height, “After today if I see you anywhere with him he will come to work for me whether he wants to or not.”

He leaves you to sit alone in the apartment. You sit still in your chair, unsure what to think. How could a morning that started so perfect end up like this? You somehow managed not to cry, too focused on figuring out what to do.

You know Shoto loved you, he made sure to tell you almost every day, but could he love you if it meant he had to do something he hated? He loved working at the agency with Inasa and others. The time he spent working under his dad was some of the most miserable of his life.

The entire reason the two of you even met was that he went out with his friends to celebrate finally leaving his father’s agency. How could you ask him to stay with you if it meant returning to misery?

With no one to turn to you flip on the tv, needed background noise as you try to find a solution. You could not ask Mina or Kirishima for help, they would spill to Shoto the minute you told them. If he even caught a hint at what was going on he would go berserk.

You had only ever seen him mad once when a fan tried to throw something at you. His entire demeanor changed from quiet and calm into a simmering rage. He would have easily laid out the fan but you somehow managed to calm him enough to convince him to go home. He had spent hours fucking you to get out his rage. By the time he was back to normal your entire body was covered in hickeys and bruises.

You shake your head to clear your mind of, this was not time to think about sex. You look around the apartment you share with Shoto and feel tears begin to well in your eyes. You didn’t want to leave him. Being with him these past few months had been the happiest of your life. You had never loved someone like you loved him.

Could you live with yourself if you had to watch the beautiful light in his eyes fade if he worked for Endeavor? In the dark of night, Shoto would confide in you about his childhood. How his father only saw him as a tool to overcome All Might. If you stayed with him he would have to be around that mindset every day.

Shoto deserved happiness, even if it was not with you. He was young and handsome, he could easily find someone else. You know it will be hard on him but you could not live with yourself if you had to watch him grow to be miserable.

You lift your chin up, you had to break up with Shoto, it was the only option.

You turn to the bedroom and grab a duffel bag you used moving in. You had to move your stuff out before he got home. You know if he had time he would be able to convince you to stay.

You haphazardly pack away your clothes, not bothering to fold the piles as you shove them into the bag. You would only be able to pack a bag without a car to move.

The small click of a lock stopped you dead in your tracts. No, he wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another hour. The bag drops out of your fingers and you run to the living room. He was standing in the kitchen with the fridge open. He did always get hungry after patrol.

He turned his head at the sound of your footsteps and smiled. Your heart finally broke in half, you were never going to have this again. Deep sobs tore up your throat and before you could stop them fat tears began to fall.

Shoto’s face filled with panic and he rushed over to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice filled with panic.

This only makes you cry harder, you didn’t want to do this. The weight of your loss grew stronger as his hold tightened.

“W-we have to break up,” You incoherently sob into his chest.

“Baby, I don’t understand what you are saying, can you look at me?” He gently bruised his hand up your forehead pushing your head back so he could look into your eyes.

Your lower lip trembles but you somehow manage to speak, “I am calling off the engagement, I can’t do this anymore.”

You watch as his face drops, his eyes wide with confusion, “Baby, what are you talking about? What is wrong, did something happen when I was gone?”

You shake your head, “I can’t do this anymore.” Lie. “Being with you is exhausting.” Lie. “I thought you were the one but I was wrong.” Lies, lies, lies. You hate every word that comes from your lips but this had to hurt. You had to make him hate you, it was the only way.

He drops the arms that once held you close to him, “I don’t, I don’t understand? We were fine this morning, what happened?” His blue eyes were glossy with unfallen tears.

You wrapped your arms tight around your waist for mock comfort. “I-I have been thinking about this since you proposed, I can’t handle dating a hero it is too much stress. I am m-miserable.”

Watching Shoto struggle to speak as he processed what you said hurt more than just ripping your own heart out.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why did you let this go on for so long if you felt that way?”

You shake your head, “I thought I would get used to it, but it has only gotten worse.”

“But this morning and every day before that you never said anything. You seemed happy.” He turned his back to you and walked towards the kitchen.

“Why now? What changed?”

You needed to end this before he asked any more questions, you let thick walls close around your heart and go for the kill, “Because I don’t love you anymore.”

His entire face crumbles as if you had stabbed him. Unable to look at him any longer you grab your duffel from the bedroom. You take one last look at the bedroom, the bed still a mess after this morning.

The weight of your loss was so suffocating you couldn’t even breathe as you walk past Shoto. He stood still in the living room unmoving in shock. He blinked strongly a few times like he was trying to wake up from a terrible nightmare.

You reach the front door “I am going to stay at Mina’s if you need anything. I’m so sorry Shoto.”

This was for the best, he could receiver from losing you. You were only in his life for a few months but his dream of being a hero had been lifelong. This breakup will only be a road bump in his journey to success. You knew he will reach the top, it just won’t be with you.

[4dtk]

more than a bet (cont. from a sweet bet)

anon: “ohmygod i loved that sub!jae work sm😭😭 would you be able to do more?? maybe with a soft femdom and whiny jae? its truly heartbreaking seeing the lack of sub!jae on here 😔” i’m glad you liked it!!!!! hope u like this one too <3 i might have made reader a bit of a mean dom i’m sorry ;;

ps was gonna make jae orgasm untouched but…. aha / you don't have to read the previous part to understand but anon is talking about this fic!

warnings/tags: pegging, bit of dacryphilia, handjob, sub!jaehyun, soft femdom!reader, brief face-sitting, brief cunnilingus

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!

“back for more already?” you laughed, eyeing the timid boy standing in front of you with fists clenched onto the straps of his book bag. his knuckles turn white from how tight he’s holding it and you don’t miss the nervous shifting he does with his feet.

all jaehyun lets out is a dreamy sigh, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he ignores the calls of his friends a metre from him.

he’s tall, although all the male wants to do right now is turn to mush with the uncomfortable rub of his thighs against each other and the gaze you’re looking down at him with.

it’s no different when you have him in your bed later and in the palm of your hand, literally, as the other clutches onto the sheets with the same intensity earlier, the skin of his neck exposed from how far he’s dropped his head back in pleasure.

jaehyun’s dick leaks pre-cum like no other while his tip throbs red, begging to be touched impatiently by your rather patient hand. it stays at the base of his cock, squeezing and unsqueezing as the other’s whines reach your ears.

“(y-y/n)… hurts s’bad!” jaehyun groans, eyes which were scrunched tight opening as they plead with you. it was shameless in the way his legs were spread to accommodate you in between, with the occasional buck of his hips that made the rustling of sheets ever resonant in the room. he was at your mercy, from day one in the quiet classroom, and he was at your mercy, now, with mouth parted as delicious moans spilled from his lips.

“what does, baby?” you ask, knowing full well what he was hinting at before leaning down to place a harmless kiss on his tip. you relish in the way you make him feel, the gesture making his thighs almost close, something that he does out of habit if not for your hands holding them open.

“t-that! that hurts, (y/n)-ssi!” he chokes on the moan he lets out, twitching with sensitivity when you finally move your hand along his shaft, giving him what he wants. your hand moves easily with how much he’s leaking, the lewd noises increasing in volume as you increase your pace. you make sure to pump his full length, up, down, up, down, with his arousal providing for sufficient lube.

jaehyun lets out a sob, slapping a hand over his mouth as the knot in his stomach tightens and tightens, threatening to release at any moment with how good you’re making him feel. your lips feel dry with the desperation in his movements, sounds and noises alike bringing much wetness to your underwear. it’s not the priority on your mind for now, rather more fixated on helping jaehyun to his high.

“you wanna cum, hm?” you mocked with a grin, speeding up your hand while the other goes up to tweak at his nipples, rolling them in between your thumb and index as his moans become more prominent and frequent. there’s multiple affirmations spilling from his lips, yes, yes, yes, i wanna c-cum!

“go on, then, cum,” you prompt with a pant and it hits. it hits like truck as a sultry groan rips from his throat while you observe how his veins pop out in frustration and quads flex when the string snaps. jaehyun’s eager to get more pleasure as he jerks into your already moving hand.

there’s endless profanities mixed in with mewls as he spills all over your hand, white hot spurts of cum dripping from his tip and down the back of his hand. you so skillfully lick it up while it’s still wrapped around his cock, deliberately avoiding the shaft.

as jaehyun catches his breath, there’s a whispered question of do you think you’re ready? you don’t push it when he shakes his head, but you realise that you’re thankful. so so thankful he’s come back a second time for you to be able to see this again.

and again.

and again.

the next time, you’re lapping at his hole, prodding and teasing with your tongue while his face stays buried in his sheets. he’s struggling to keep a quiet front even when you slip a finger in, both from embarrassment and the family movie going on outside and sticks his ass up into your face achingly.

“that’s it, baby boy, relax for me. gotta prepare you for my cock, now, yeah?” you moan at how easy his hole is sucking in your finger, no doubt doing the same to your strap later on.

jaehyun watches in awe as you remove your outfit, eyes lingering on the obvious bulge sticking out of your underwear. his mouth hangs open, both in fear and excitement with you having worn the strap-on for the whole day of university, lips turning up at the mere thought of you ruining him in the next few minutes.

“whatcha smiling about?” you grinned, guiding his chest down onto the bed again as he mumbles with a whine, something that makes you freeze up in the midst of lubing your cock.

“just thinking of how dumb you’d fuck me, (y/n)-ssi.” you’re sure it’s the innocence laced within the voice, so pure, so needy, yet so dirty.

your breath is shaky as you ease the strap-on into him. every inch that disappears into him only make you groan in the sight, while the male bites down on a finger to prevent any noise. by then, you’re unable to keep a cap on your lust, snapping your hips to deliver a hard thrust that has jaehyun’s moans hitting the walls.

“you doing okay, honey?”

jaehyun only hums, a pleased smile spreading across his lips as he turns back to you with eyes that take your breath away. they’re dilated, tinted with something you never knew you could bring out of jaehyun.

as his back arches to get more of your cock, you have to swallow. it’s the only way to take your mind off the sweat glistening off his back and the tight grip his hand has on your thigh.

“’s so good, (y/n), ’s so so good- mmh!” he drawls out his speech while you continue to thrust in and out at his confirmation, losing just a bit of control with how smoothly your name rolls of his tongue.

your hips meet his ass continuously, feeling the burn of your thighs and the roughness of the sheets below you. there’s distant chatter outside the door, fortunate enough for jaehyun’s room to be at the end of a passageway and away from the living room.

“h-harder! faster, p..pleeease-!” he almost screams when your cock meets his prostate, mouth dropped at the immense pleasure and tongue lolling out.

tears lingered at the corners of jaehyun’s eyes, making you want to cum on the spot with the expression on his face. beautiful, beautiful, all spread out for me. it repeated like a mantra in your head.

jaehyun cries out when your hand wraps around his cock and he swears he sees heaven for a second with eyes rolling back. you’re stroking with fervour, matching the pace of your satisfying thrusts and the squelching sounds only contribute to the atmosphere, room smelling like sex and musk and desperation.

“c’mon, baby boy, cum on my cock. do your worst.”

and he really does.

“hhhn- cumming, cumming, so good- so full!” jaehyun whimpers into the sheets, just loud enough for you to hear when you’re hovering over his body. it’s the most the male’s cummed since the last time, white staining both the sheets below you and your hand while his body jerks at the intense orgasm.

you hum, easing out the strap that jaehyun moans at the emptiness. nevertheless, he relaxes when you place a kiss on his shoulder, still recovering from the hypnotising high.

“what about.. you… (y/n)-ssi?” he slurs, turning his head on the pillow so his eyes could see you in your glory.

“you’re tired, aren’t you? come, let’s rest up-“

“no…” jaehyun whines, and you’re so close to edge him again, “wanna eat you out, (y/n)…”

your lips can taste his cum when you bite a finger out of nervousness, hands fumbling to remove your strap almost immediately. you’re positively soaked when you touch yourself after, caving in to your desire when jaehyun drags you closer.

“just relax, (y/n). take your seat,” he’s still delirious, giggling when your surprise shows. and when you eventually do? it’s the best fucking seat that he offers, his mouth sucking on your clit as your legs tremble around his ears.

“you’re delicious, (y/n).”

it’s the best fucking seat and jaehyun’s glad to clean up after you, worshipping you at the foot of your throne adorned with gold and velvet that he always comes back to. it’s addicting, but how could he resist when you’re a queen that never stops giving?

[homosexuality-at-its-finest]

Hey honey! You think you can make a part two to the recent fic with Steve? where the reader and Steve are both turned to super soldiers and both go into ice? Steve’s found first and thinks the reader is dead until the reader pops up in an avengers interview years later with Bucky by his side because he saved Bucky?

Sorry baby I already commented this but I just thought I’d send it here too❤️

A/n: I am LIVING for the pet names, thank you for sending the request here! It makes it easier for me. I hope you like it!!

Plot: Requested

Pairing: Steve rogers x Male reader

Y/n: Your name

L/n: Last name

H/c: Hair color

E/c: Eye color

Warnings: Angst, cussing, temporary death, reader is also a super soldier, fluff

Word count: 1302

As the plane nose-dived towards the cold ocean, all Steve could think about was Y/n, the man he loved more than anything. His head turned to the side, locking eyes with the other man, any words Peggy was saying was blocked out as the lovers wordlessly gave their goodbyes. The H/c haired mans fingers intertwined with his own, bringing Steve’s hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles.

The plane hit the water with a thundering crash, and Jesus it was colder than anything Steve could’ve imagined. He squeezed Y/n’s hand as hard as he could as they sank into the abyss, selfishly happy that if they died, they at least died together.

Death was colder than Steve thought it would be, but that belief slapped him in the face as his baby blue eyes fluttered open, met with harsh sunlight shining into his eyes. For a second, he thought it was all a dream, looking to the side to find the spot next to him empty.

“Y/n?” His voice was hoarse, throat burning with apparent disuse. His gut twisted, a sick feeling festering in him. The super soldier had escaped the room and had come to an alarming conclusion. He was no longer in the 1940’s, he was in the 2010’s now and he was all alone.

The thought hit him harder than a train, making his knees weak and it felt as though there was a hole where his heart used to be. In such a short span of time (For him) he’d lost the two most important people in his life. Apparently when they’d found Steve in the ice, Y/n was nowhere to be seen. His body had never been recovered and Steve had to live with that guilt and pain every day for the rest of his life.

He was given a distraction in the form of the Avengers, a group of extraordinary people fighting the battles no one else could. It didn’t fill the hole in his chest, but he no longer felt so alone in this world. He had a purpose again, saving as many people as he could with his newfound family.

The only thing he had from his past was a photo of Y/n that he kept in his compass, the H/c haired man’s head was thrown back in laughter, his beautiful E/c eyes screwed shut as he laughed at some cheesy joke Steve had told.

Every day he missed the other man, but over time the pain became easier to handle. He pushed himself into his workload, designating himself as the captain of his team. He fought many battles and over time he selected new enhanced individuals to join the team.

Today was another day of interviewing people Nick Fury had specifically chosen out, himself and the other Avengers picking them apart to decide if they were good enough to join his team. The super soldier was honestly ready to call of the rest of the interviews for the day, so far no one had even slightly peaked interest, and he was beginning to believe that the team was fine the way it was.

Imagine his surprise when two familiar faces he hadn’t seen in 70 years walked in. Bucky, God how he had missed his best friend, looked very different. His brunette locks had grown long and shaggy. His once shining blue eyes were now dulled, a haunted look permanently reflecting in his orbs.

Then there was Y/n, he looked a bit different, but he still made Steve’s heart pound and made his knees feel like jelly. Steve was out of his chair before he could even process it, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor falling on deaf ears.

He had no control of his body as he moved forward, ignoring all the questions and looks his team was throwing at him. His arms were around Bucky before he could even think about it, a shaky sigh leaving his lips. He didn’t miss the way the other man tensed up, before hesitantly hugging back.

After a moment he pulled away and his attention was turned towards the man he had been endlessly longing for since the moment he woke from the ice. “Y/n…” It hurt Steve to realize how odd it was to say his name once again, part of him was terrified this was just a dream and he’d wake up alone in bed once again.

His baby blue eyes found the E/c eyes he dreamed about nightly, his heart twisting. Y/n’s hands cupped his cheeks, a delicate smile playing on his lips. “Hey Stevie.” Oh, how he’d missed hearing his voice, and hearing that nickname. He leaned into the other man’s touch; eyes fluttering shut.

An embarrassing sound left his lips as Y/n kissed him, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. He brought up his shaky hands, cupping the sides of the other man’s neck, ignoring the indignant sound Tony made as the two men kissed.

Steve refused to pull away until his lungs begged for air and his head felt fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. His forehead rested against the H/c haired man’s own, heart pounding wildly against his rib cage.

“How are you alive?” Steve whispered, thumb brushing against Y/n’s pulse to reassure himself that he was actually there. The sound of Y/n humming met his ears, causing his body to relax a bit.

“Hydra.” The reply felt like a punch to the gut, he knew Hydra had still existed, not long ago they’d found out shield had been infiltrated by the organization. The idea of those monsters having Y/n or Bucky made him sick to his stomach, and he wanted nothing more than to rip them apart with his bare hands.

When Steve didn’t reply, Y/n continued.

“Guess they found the ship and grabbed me; I don’t remember when. I remember bits and pieces and then I found Bucky there too. Took a lot of time and a lot of planning but I finally got us out about a year ago, when you had brought down shield. After that we hunted Fury down and set all of this up.”

Steve could tell it was heavily simplified, probably not wanting to spill his and Bucky’s story to a room of strangers.

There moment was broken by Sam speaking up, an eyebrow raised. “Cap, you gonna tell us what the hell is going on?”

The super soldiers reluctantly pulled away from each other, Y/n giving the team an awkward wave. The action was so painfully familiar that Steve couldn’t help but bark out a short laugh. That caused a smirk to spread across his boyfriends’ lips, and Steve would tear the world apart to see him smile like that again.

“Uh hi, I’m Y/n and this is my stabby best friend Bucky. We fought with Steve in World War II.” Tony let out a groan, mumbling about there being more old men on the team. Steve simply ignored his friend, speaking up.

“This is my partner, Y/n and my best friend Bucky. Bucky is who Natasha and I have been looking for, for the last year.” Steve felt a bit awkward as the team fired questions at the trio, but Steve couldn’t find himself caring, not when he had Y/n back.

The world had torn them apart from each other, but now he had the man he loved back. He didn’t care if he had to fight a thousand more wars, as long as he had Y/n by his side he felt like he could do anything.

[strangeradventuresofp]

symphony (arthur morgan x reader)

this story involves smut!! please do not read this if you are not over 18 years old

a/n: not entirely back to writing yet, but i did this and i sorta like it so lemme know what you think. also this is my first time ever writing smut that wasn’t for a roleplay so im super nervous about it. but anyway have a story with my favourite boy 

masterlist

It felt like your gut had been ripped open, like there were pins where your heart was before it cracked and shattered into thousands of fragments that would never be found. It was like someone had put a bullet in your skull and it was rattling around, hitting against every nerve and causing as much damage as it went along. 

Your blood turned to ice in your veins at the sight of him. Never had you seen him look so weak. So helpless. How in his voice he seemed okay despite the state of his body – at least two open wounds, his shirt stained multiple shades of red that weaved in with brown from what had already dried. Hot tears stung in your eyes when they studied him. Despite the warped vision, it was obvious to anyone that he was in pain. How his face contorted and twisted whilst Miss Grimshaw washed over his wounds to get a better look. The grunts and curses that left his dried lips were unbearable to listen to. 

Once you tore your eyes away from him, you assessed the others in the scene. Dutch stood at the foot of the table, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands balled into fists so tight that his knuckles whitened and cracked. Every now and again he mumbled words of encouragement or instructions to tell Miss Grimshaw what to do, despite her knowing much more about how to patch someone up. 

Miss Grimshaw had taken charge immediately, as soon as he had been brought into camp by the others on the job. She removed his shirt swiftly, washing his wounds with a cloth and water. Her expert hands cauterised his wounds and though she winced at every sound of discomfort, she knew that she was helping, and so she continued.

Tilly was around helping Miss Grimshaw, running to get things that she needed presently or that she would need, or that she might need just in case. She fed him alcohol for the pain and listened close when she was asked to do something to help.

You? You simply stood there, frozen. Miss Grimshaw had asked you for something, but you neither moved nor even heard her request for your brain was travelling at a speed that caused you physical pain. The noises he made left an awful taste in your mouth, knowing that you couldn’t help despite wanting to more than anything in the world. 

It was about then that Hosea took your hands in his and gently pulled you away with a “Come on, sweet girl.” And though you protested, you let him take you, because you couldn’t do anything else. You couldn’t just stand and watch him as he was an inch away from death. It hurt. Hosea took you far enough away that you couldn’t hear the sounds of pain that each felt like a bullet to the chest.

He held you to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Hosea.” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth once you had remembered how to use your voice. The man smiled a fatherly smile.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.” He assured, though you couldn’t seem to meet his eye. Gently, he squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance. Though, reassurance for what, you couldn’t be entirely sure. “I know you wanted to help. It’s difficult when the people we love get hurt.”

You scoffed. “I… I don’t even know what bein’ in love feels like. But, I guess, maybe…” Trailing off, your mind began to wander just as the thoughts pulled a sigh from your lips. 

“Hosea, I don’t—”

“Do you think I don’t see the way you look at him?” Hosea asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused that you had tried to deny his claims. 

“Sweetheart, you look at him like you’re starving and he’s a hot meal.”

“I do?” Your voice sounded so small against the deafening silence. As much as you wanted to deny it, Hosea was right, and he knew it. It was terrifying. “I—I’ve never been in love before.” Startling thoughts began cascading down you. You and Arthur were close, real close. You told each other everything. You could be vulnerable around each other. You were there for each other. Was all of that about to be ruined because you were stupid enough to catch feelings?

“What do I do?” 

Hosea chuckled at that. “Get some rest, sweetheart. Try not worry about him, he’ll be fine. He always is.” While you appreciated his attempt of reassurance, you honestly didn’t feel much better at all. Instead, your brain was flooding with the thought of being in love with Arthur on top of the question of whether he was actually going to survive his injuries. 

You stayed just out of camp for a while longer, until you could hear the noise inside start to die down until it was obvious that everyone was asleep. You crept back in, being sure to not make too much noise, you didn’t want to wake anyone. No, not that, you didn’t want anyone to know that you were visiting him. Grabbing a chair, you pulled it up beside where Arthur’s was body was lay and took a seat. You looked over him, humming lightly, Miss Grimshaw really did a good job of patching him up. Your hands wrapped themselves around one of his, and you simply sat at his side until morning, being sure to move away at least two hours before everyone else woke up.

~~~

A few weeks later 

~~~

Chores. Although you helped out on jobs sometimes, since Arthur and Hosea taught you how to shoot properly, you enjoyed helping out around camp, too. It was the least you could do to help out Miss Grimshaw, considering she saved the man that you loved. Besides, most members of the camp were out either on jobs or shopping, or at saloon, so, you were spending your time washing clothes to help out.

Arthur, luckily, survived his injuries and although he was still recovering, he was back up and out on jobs again. Dutch did make sure not to put him on any dangerous (by his standard) jobs, despite Arthur protesting because he’s fine, it was just a couple of scratches and—Goddamn it, Dutch I don’t need supervision, I’m alright and—

“Careful you don’t rub a hole in that shirt.” A deep chuckle came from beside you. Your head snapped up immediately at the sound.

“Arthur!” You only then noticed how hard you had been squeezing the shirt in your hands and how hard you were scrubbing it against the washboard. Loosening your grip, you smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I—Wait a minute, what the hell are you doing up and around? Dutch told you that you rest today.” A laugh left Arthur’s lips as he held his hands up in surrender. “You should be resting.” With that, you stood, ushering him back to his tent where he could lay down. He took a seat on his bed, looking up at her with a strange expression. Was he… Nervous?

He reached out for your hand, gently tugging you over to take a seat beside him. Instead of letting go of your hand, he held it, his gaze fixed on it. He delicately traced over the veins that peeked through your skin, too delicate, like if he held you any firmer that you would shatter before him. His eyebrows drew together, and you hummed slightly, searching his eyes.

“Arthur? Y’alright?” You asked softly, your eyes furrowing in concern. 

“I’m alright, darlin’, I just…” He took a deep breath. “Going through all that and, not knowing whether I was gonna die, it, uh, it made me realise a couple things. Shit, uh…” 

“It’s okay. Take your time.” You assured, a smile crossing your face. Arthur looked up at you, a troubled look in his eyes that gave you an awful feeling in your stomach. You breathed out through parted lips, ready to take in the bad news that he was about to tell you. His eyes flickered slightly, quickly looking down your lips before he swallowed thickly, looking back up at your eyes.

“It made me realise that, I’m terrified of losing you. And—And I think that I… Shit. I’m in love with you.” Arthur’s face burnt up entirely as he confessed, flushing red from head to toe. When you didn’t respond, only blinking blankly at him, he pulled his hands away from yours, looking away as he rubbed the nape of his neck anxiously. Your hand reached out to cup his cheek, tilting his face back to you where you planted a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. You could feel how his breath was pulled from his lungs as you did so and his eyes lit up, though his face still looked worried.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan. More than anything in the world.” And with that, his lips captured yours in such a way that had your own breath hitching at the sensation. Your lips danced against each other’s rhythmically, and your chests moved up and down in sync. 

You had always loved Arthur. From the moment that he had saved your life in the woods when you first met. This big, scary outlaw meant everything to you. This gang was the closest thing you had to family. No, it was your family. Things had always been different with Arthur, though. Things you had never given a second thought about until now. Longing glances from across camp, touches that were a little too long to simply be considered friendly. Putting his arm around you at the campfire so that you wouldn’t be cold, bringing each other stew so that the other wouldn’t starve. The way he spoke to you; how his voice changed to be much softer when he addressed you. The urgency in his voice when he thought that you were in danger. The way that he always worried about you, just how you worried about him. The way that he looked at you, just how you looked at him.

It all made sense now.

The kiss was incapsulating. In this moment where nothing else mattered, merely you and him. You each opened your mouths, delving your tongues in to dance with the other as your tastes swirled together. He tasted like honey and cigarette smoke, you tasted like wild berries and rum. His hand hovered over the curve of your waist for a few seconds, before he hesitantly placed it down, pulling you close to his chest. Your arms snaked up his chest and wound around his neck. Arthur hooked an arm around your waist, gently lifting and shifting you over to sit in his lap.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavier than usual as you looked at him. A sweet shade of rose covered the cheeks that you gently pecked before stroking with your thumbs whilst you cupped his face. 

“We don’t have to go any farther.” Arthur declared; his voice low despite there being no one around. You breathed for a moment, scared of all the new feelings that erupted throughout your body. Though, the fireworks in your stomach couldn’t be denied. So, you smiled.

“You—Your wounds…” You mentioned, and he chuckled softly.

“Darlin’, I’m fine. But we can stop if you ain’t comfortable.”

“I don’t want to stop.” 

A smile spread over Arthur’s lips at your words and he hummed in response. “Tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” He asked, cupping your cheek, to which you nodded before leaning in to kiss his lips once again. You couldn’t get enough of him. He tasted so good. Whilst your lips worked against his, his practised hands ran over your body and his fingers began to work at the buttons on your shirt, threading them back through the hole before pushing it off of your shoulders. His hands moved up to knead softly at your breasts, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers which earned a mewl from your throat. 

He pulled away from your lips, jaw falling slack when his eyes fell over your now bare top half. He hummed as his excitement grew, moving your head to the side with his thumb before burying his face in your neck which he peppered with open mouthed kisses and gentle nips that began to purple the flushed skin, branding you to him. With your noises of approval and your fingers unthreading the buttons of his blue shirt egging him on, he began to suck the skin at your clavicle to which a breathy moan was pulled from your throat. 

Shrugging his shirt from his shoulders, you moved your legs on either side of his hips, straddling him. Your fingers gently caressed each of his scars that you felt. He was beautiful. As he continued to leave his mark on you, your hands reached up to tangle in his locks, tugging ever so slightly, but a growl left him, nevertheless.

“Do it again.” Arthur pleaded, his lips brushing against your skin to cause goose bumps. A low groan fell out of his kiss swollen lips when you repeated the action. His large hands cupped your ass, pulling you closer against him, his arousal rubbing against you through layers of fabric that separated you from feeling all of him. You needed to feel all of him. You moaned at the contact, fumbling messily with his jeans while you kissed him, but he pulled away. 

He picked you up, laying you down before he shed himself of the remainder of his clothing. While his back was turned, you did the same. When Arthur turned around, he bit his lip at the sight of you, flushed, sprawled out for him on his bed. He licked his lips hungrily, cock twitching before he lay above you, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips which you held while his hand dug lower. His fingers spread you open, teasing by gently brushing against your clit. He smirked at your wetness.

“Arthur—” You whined. “Please.” He took your endorsement, groaning in delight at the sounds you made when he quickened his pace, curling his fingers inside you. The hot coil began to grow in your stomach, and he watched as you writhed beneath him, moaning deliciously at how good he was making you feel. His cock was painfully hard and ached for release, but he wouldn’t stop until he had brought you over the edge at least once before he fucked you. 

“This for me?” Your hips bucked up in a silent plea for more friction and he chuckled slightly into your mouth before pushing a digit inside you. With a sharp inhale beforehand, you moaned in approval, causing him to add a second finger, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace. 

“So good for me, darlin’.” Arthur’s voice was husky when he spoke, his words wrapped in lust and desire, eyes dark with adoration. His free hand reached up to toy with your nipples, pinching gently, teasingly to bring you closer to your release. 

It wasn’t until your hips bucked uncontrollably and a strangled cry left your plump lips that Arthur pulled his fingers out of you, the hot coil snapping in such a wonderful way that left you aching for more. His mouth opened and closed around his fingers, coated with your juices. When the taste hit his mouth, a low groan rumbled in his chest, and the mushroom head of his member leaked with arousal. 

Arthur didn’t touch himself once until he had brought you over the edge one more time with his tongue alone, and when that hot coil broke in your stomach once again, he lapped up the remainder of your juices, making sure to not waste a single drop by licking along the insides of your thighs for any excess. His cock throbbed painfully from the influx of lust, his hand stroking himself up and down a couple of times before he pushed himself into you. The sound you made from him entering you alone nearly made Arthur cum there and then, but he was determined to make you feel good. After pushing in about halfway, he pulled back out completely, groaning at the sight of your slick on his cock. You whined at the lack of contact, reaching to touch him but he swatted your hand away.

“I don’t think so.” He said with a chuckle before pushing into you entirely. You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulders, loving how he stretched you. “Mm—” Arthur’s hips thrusted against yours once as he moaned at how you clenched around him. “Such a good girl for me.” He set a fast pace, each thrust increasing in power and might, and soon enough an animalistic desire consumed him, his hips clashing against yours. Your names left each other’s lips among curses and beautiful sounds of pure pleasure. Series’ of moans spilled out from your reddened lips.

Arthur kissed you, hard. You could feel the swelling of your lips. The bristles of his unkempt stubble tickled your skin. When your tongues met, you groaned at the taste, your taste. Your nails sunk further into his skin and he groaned at the sensation, his spare hand reached down to focus your sensitive bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb. His cock throbbed against your walls as the familiar feeling began to grow in your stomach once again. He pounded into you with a near primal hunger, your plea for him and your beautiful sounds being the only thing to fill his ears. Arthur made his own share of delicious noises, both of your voices ruined with pleasure though it sounded like the most stunning symphony.

You felt your third climax nearing, the white-hot coil repeating but so much stronger than before. With your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands on you, he made you feel wanted. He made you feel loved. It was nearing closer, and closer and you covered your face to which Arthur removed your hands from your face, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other returned to its spot at your clit.

“Nuh-uh, darlin’. Hafta see you.”

Soon enough, your release washed over you like a wave of pleasure. A ravishing sound forced itself from you, your legs trembled, your body shaking violently from the pleasure. Arthur felt your climax all over him, his body entirely racked with pleasure. As you clenched around him, he pushed in once more and pulled out, releasing with a husky shout that you would dream of for weeks on end. His juices lay atop the bedsheets and he sighed happily, pulling you in for a soft, loving kiss.

Arthur reached over into his pile of clothes to find a dark piece of cloth, his bandana. He soaked in some water from a bucket outside his tent and gently dragged it over you skin, revelling in how incessantly beautiful you were. At first, when he reached your folds, you whined from the overstimulation, but soon relaxed at the feeling.

Once you were cleaned up, he lay beside you, cradling you in his strong arms. You pecked his lips before resting your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Your eyes fluttered closed and Arthur hummed contently. “I love you, darlin’.”

lmk if you want to be added to any of my taglists!!<3

“I love you too, Arthur.”