#I mean it's cringe looking back on it but I had still better tag it so I don't trigger anyone

[limetameta]

this started as a meme but turned into an emotional rollercoaster 🎢 and then an uplifting story about mental health?

So not that anyone asked but the thesis is going well which is why i am rewriting retired prometheus lmao

Stuff gets really mentally unhealthy down there

There are 15 google docs full of seperate chapters because bestie's laptop crashed when i tried to put her on the complete rp google doc???? My story kills laptops, what does yours do?

Bestie made a comment that the google doc chapters 1 through 7 is 100 pages long. And only chapter 1 is edited.

We put RP into that word count to page count converter and it says that the entire story is like 1200 pages or something. In comic sans it's like 1500 I think. Which we found delightful.

None of the chapters are updated yet on ao3 but it will end up longer lmao because i am adding scenes to help with pacing. Also to tie in the side stories and prequels.

All of this started because it's finally passed enough time since i wrote the ending that i can look at it objectively. Some parts of the story are very good and don't need as much rehauling though there are still those that haunt me.

There's this arc i dubbed The fucked arc in the story and i was going through quite possibly the worst part of my life and the writing is ineligible. I barely understand what's happening there. The sentence structure is all over the place. I only vividly remember not sleeping nights and wondering if I was supposed to kill myself and since the answer was yes, if I was going to do it tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. But I didn't want to die until I had finished retired prometheus, so i continued.

The writing in the fucked arc is bad, the content inside the writing is very vivid and heavy and why the folks who read my works endured until the writing got better again. I think about every review that encouraged me. I held onto those reviews like a lifeline and said: Well I promised I'd see this through. So I can't really end it yet. Abraxas and Tom haven't reunited yet for fucks sake *me wading through shitty sentences and awful pacing and a heinous mental breakdown* I need the toxic gays to kiss goddammit!

By the time I actually finished RP I had gotten into therapy and sorta healed. I say sorta because I never actually shook off what happened to me that year. I just kept thinking about it much less. But when I would remember it I would be consumed by my thoughts and I wouldn't really be able to get anything done.

Really the weirdest part was I thought that I was on a timer. Like I ever listened to timers to begin with. But I really rushed the updates like Hamilton in that Non stop song. Because I didn't know if I'd be alive to see the next update. If I'd jump in front of a car or if I'd drown in the sea off the coast of a beach I frequented.

Every big hiatus you'd see in retired prometheus on that chapter index page represents this really low point in my life. Because I only thrive in creative works when I am okay. When I am not deeply unwell. Back then I was.

I didn't really think about what others would say, but I only kept thinking about what a hassle it would be to kms. Though dying would be better than living on. Like that justice statue I'd be weighing the pros and cons of dying to myself. I'd try to get myself to have enough bravery to do it only to falter at the last second and be like as long as nobody knows why I want to do it, I can still pretend like my life isn't over. I can still smile through it and no one will be able to tell but me.

There's a photograph a friend of mine took with her professional camera of me from the summer of the fucked arc and I look like I'm ten years older than I am now. You could really just see the stress. Maybe my friend couldn't or she didn't know what I usually smiled like. I know my own honest smile and that's not something I can expect others to know. But my god I don't think I've ever been in more pain than I was then. Pro tip: don't zoom in on photos of yourself if you're going thru it! I personally think being a chain smoker for 30 years would have given me a kinder face.

Anyway writing would kind of be an excuse for me. So even if I hated everything i was writing I'd still post it because I didn't want retired prometheus to end up unfinished.

On so many occasions I bemoaned to bestie if I would ever finish writing retired prometheus because it was a ball and chain tying me to life. But also i kinda really did want to complete one project (ignores tens of tens of finished stories because they're not retired prometheus and they'll never be retired prometheus)

Then to add salt to injury my best friend not bestie kills herself a year later and I'm left like that pikachu meme going Hey Now! Hey! HEY NOW YOUNG MAN!

I felt like a poser because I was out there just thinking things and she was out there DOING IT!

A grief like nothing I had ever experienced struck me. I didn't know a person was able to feel such emotions until that moment. It was razing. It ruined every thought I had.

I realised such a lovely thing that at the time I hated: her death had shocked me out of my apathy. It thrust me into anger. Into something so deeply tangible I was struggling to accept it. She would never be someone I could hug again. Yet she thrust me back into life with such a vice grip I can feel her hands on my shoulders even now.

The people around me couldn't understand what I was going through. They saw me for the first time as someone at risk, because, if a close friend of mine died - then that, in this small minded country, meant that there was a cult going on. That my friend had not killed herself because she didn't see a way out but because she'd been conditioned to do it.

That because she had a rainbow in her Instagram bio and followed queer people. That's why she killed herself. Because queers in the Balkan remain a sect. A predatory group of people who are going to hurt your children and brainwash them.

I didn't want to kill myself anymore. If only because I had finally unlocked spite. Anger and spite got me on a bus. Secretly. My friend didn't tell anyone she was taking a day off work. I didn't tell anyone i was taking a day off work. My friend didn't tell anyone she was going on a bus to the tallest Bridge in our country. She was dead set on never coming back. And she knew we'd try to stop her. I didn't tell anyone where I was going because I knew my mother would scream at me. Just as she screamed at me in fear that I was going to be next.

Being put on the spotlight like that, for all the wrong reasons, made me want to do something I'd been afraid of doing for years.

I got on a bus that day because I was so tired of the Balkan. I was so tired of living in a place that was hell bent on making me feel worthless.

I got off the bus and walked towards a building not too far from the bus stop. Not too far from where I lived even. But I was wearing headphones and sunglasses and a hat and even a scarf. As I looked in the mirror in the hallway I thought that I'd dressed up just as I'd dressed Grindelwald in the Intermission chapters while he was running from the aurors.

If I had killed a person I would not have taken such effort to concealing my identity.

But where I had gone was a crime, you see. Not in a legal sense. But in a sense of *belief*.

What my friend had done could not be judged because she was dead and she didn't care for it anymore.

I could be judged. And I would be judged. Because that was the country I lived in. With the people I lived with. Who are scared to learn better. Who cling to the belief that what their parents know is good and what their parents know was even better.

Perhaps it would have been better for my family if I did kill myself than subject them to this humiliation?

It was summer. Not the summer of the fucked arc, but the fucked arc was still going. I had stopped asking bestie if would finish rp and if I would just get this stupid arc over. She told me I would. I didn't believe her.

My hand was shaking as I knocked on the door. Inside I introduced myself and said I had sent an email. From a burner email with a fake name. I did not want to give out my full name. But I had to. So I did.

Because not feeling anything was something I had accustomed myself to. Feeling so many things to such a degree as I had at the time was worse. I needed help.

HELP! Somebody! NOT JUST ANYBODY! HELP-

Naturally it only took all of 5 minutes for me to be cured of my mental illness and trauma. The therapist was a pro. And I was a writer with a flare for the dramatic.

Nudge nudge wink wink.

No, it took 5 minutes for me to breakdown about my friend killing herself.

5 minutes of me making jokes about trying therapy. 5 minutes of me trying to make light of the situation. 5 minutes of me being on the verge of tears and refusing to break down and be weak. Because I was better than everyone else who really needed therapy, you know. I wasn't mentally ill. I was just going through a tough time.

Mental illness was worse than if I killed myself. If I killed myself I could get away with being a drug addict. Anything was better than being mentally ill in the Balkan.

My therapist, like 5 minutes in: honestly I think everyone in the Balkan is mentally ill its just that nobody is getting any help for it.

Me thinking of every war this country has gone through only a 100 years back. I let a bunch of untreated mentally ill clowns hold me back from asking for help.

And for what???

Judgement???

I was doing something that took so much more bravery than killing myself would have taken. I was doing something no one in my family, for as long as my line has existed, has ever done: I was going to therapy.

I wasn't drinking rakija until I couldn't see. I wasn't smoking until my lungs gave out. I wasn't starving myself. I wasn't flinging myself from one emotion till the next and making others walk around egg shells around me.

It wouldn't be months until I'd tell my mother I was seeing a therapist, because this was a secret still. As if I was having an affair, I would lie and say I was going to the beach or that I was going drinking with friends. And I would take my bus. In the opposite direction both metaphorically and literally to the one my friend took when she decided to end her life.

The therapist was kind. She still is. But I'm glad she was the one who took me on. I didn't tell her about what happened to me, about why the fucked arc is so badly written. I couldn't get the words out of my mouth, my teeth were so gritted. So instead I talked about other fires that needed putting out.

And I thrived creatively. I wrote the ugliest things I've ever written and I loved it. I loved every word I was putting out there. I felt like myself again.

When my mother learned I was going to therapy she started shouting: Are you only going there to complain about what a terrible mother I am?

And I just remember saying: you *and* dad.

Much like you can expect, slavic parents do not understand that therapy is real and helpful. They think that this is like a drug. That if I become addicted to therapy I will not be able to function in society without having to consult my therapist, drink my therapy, and become a shell of myself.

After years of seeing an apathetic ghost, no doubt she blamed therapy for my anger and my outbursts and my having emotions. I, for one, blamed the bitch who killed herself and got me in this mess.

I swear to god this started as a meme post! Please believe me I had no intention of sitting down for hours on the couch to write this. I put on a dungeon and dragons episode from dimension 20 for fucks sake.

My mother is still against therapy. If I had a father I'd ask. But he'd probably say that writing was his therapy. Just like retired prometheus had been mine. No wonder he writes like shit.

A year later I finished retired prometheus and decided I wouldn't look back. Especially because I think the ending bummed a lot of folks out. And I was like you don't know what being bummed out is you fuckers you came to the mentally ill story and got to the end and you won't even leave a review shame on you don't you know I used to use those as a reason to live. Lmaooo actually just like that Key and Peele skit with the give a dollar save a child shtick. Leave a review and I live another day.

This is the part where we de-escalated this post somehow.

I need to go to work tomorrow. I need to sleep.

This rewrite was a long time coming. Because I know I can do better. I have grown so much more as a writer and I want that to be reflected in a story that is like an autobiography to me. I look at a chapter, at a line, and I know what people i used to hang out with. I know which cafes or bars i used to frequent. I read an inside joke and I laugh.

I don't want the fucked arc to hold me back. I know I can make it better.

But I can only do so now after years have passed. After I know with utmost certainty that I am okay.

It wouldn't really be until this year that I felt completely unburdened by the shit I was going through that year when the fucked arc began. So kind of as a commemoration to that I'm rewriting Retired Prometheus.

Gonna give yall some of those dvd menu extra scenes now because ur gonna finally read the deluxe edition.

[mischievousmoony]

Omg I love ur James fics. You think you could do one where reader finally feels comfortable getting drunk while going out with their group because she knows James is there to take care of her. Ur drunk reader x James interactions are too cute. I feel like I always have a hard time letting go cause I’m afraid I’ll need to take care of my other friends haha. Love your work!

thank u love! i have fun writing them, i just know james would be so caring! ps thank you for being patient ik this request came in a while ago

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (i think that’s it but lmk if i missed any pls)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"But what if Sirius tries to get a new tattoo again?" you ask, twisting back and forth with a steady squeak, squeak, squeak of your barstool.

James clasps his hand on your shoulder, turning you one last time to face him. "Remus is watching him."

"What if Marlene tries to go on another one of her adventures?"

Marlene has a knack for getting herself into precarious situations when she gets drunk, which she likes to call her “little adventures.” Usually, this means going home with a stranger, whether it’s for a hookup or to steal their lightbulbs because they looked at her wrong.

"Lily’s got her.”

"What if I do something stupid?" you ask, now swinging your legs. The nerves eating away at you just won’t let you sit still.

James puts his other hand on your knee, soothing you with a gentle squeeze. "I'm watching you," he says. After thinking it over for a moment, he adds, “And I don't think you'll do anything stupid. Even if you do, I'll do something more stupid so that nobody notices."

This earns him a giggle from you, and he’s happy to see you smiling. He picks up your glass, which is now covered in beads of water, plenty of time having passed for condensation to run its course. He dries what he can with a napkin because he knows you hate when the droplets land in your lap.

You once asked him why it happened, even though you knew the answer. He simply told you it was science.

“Science is stupid,” you had said, eyes fixating on several small spots of water soaking into your jeans.

Now, James wraps your glasses with napkins. He holds out your drink, a black napkin enveloped around it, as he asks, “You want to do this, right?”

You peek into the glass and watch the dwindling ice cubes swirl around in a vodka cran; a drink that James had called “beginner friendly.”

“Yeah,” you answer shyly.

James frowns. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over. A part of you wants to forget it, but another part of you knows you’d be disappointed in yourself for chickening out again.

You wrap your hand around the glass, cringing at the squish of the soggy napkin beneath your fingertips. You don’t know what’s worse: this feeling or the water dripping all over you. But James’ attempts to help make you feel warm inside, so you don’t complain.

“No, I still want to do this.”

“Then I’m here for you. Promise.” James gives your knee another squeeze.

You cast a look toward your friends. For years, you've nominated yourself as the designated driver. Or you've claimed to have early morning obligations. You've always felt better knowing someone sober was around to deliver plenty of water and carb-rich snacks to your incapacitated friends.

That was your excuse, anyway. Not that it isn't one of your concerns, but truthfully, something about drinking makes you feel uneasy. You always knew your friends were safe because you've been there, ready to hold back anyone's hair or stray them away from bad decisions. If you drank too, how could you be sure your friends would have someone to depend on? How could you be sure you would have someone to depend on?

Then, you started dating James, and you found a level of trust you never knew was possible. You know you can depend on him for anything.

When you admitted to him why you never drink when you go out, he swore up and down that he would be there for you.

Remembering his promise summons a wave of courage. You shoot James a nervous smile, and take your first sip, scrunching your nose as it burns your tongue.

"This is kind of gross."

James barks a laugh, "We can try to find something you'd like better next round. That is, if you decide to have another."

Feeling brave, you do have another. That's when you discovered something called the Cosmic Lemon Fizz; a drink that sparkles with edible glitter and manages to be blue, green, and yellow all at once. You laughed when you saw it, not knowing how in for it you were.

"Jamie!" you exclaim after taking a sip of your third Cosmic Lemon Fizz. "This tastes like happy feels!" you gasp as if the thought had just occurred to you, despite this being the fourth time you tell him.

"I bet it does!" James cheers. His eyes wrinkle in the corners as he beams at you.

"You should try one!" you declare, and immediately try to flag over the bartender.

James smoothly takes your hand, stopping you as he says, "No can do. Made a promise to a pretty girl that I wouldn't have a drop tonight."

You whip your head around. "Who!?" you ask, eyes wide.

"Who do you think, pretty girl," he says, poking you in the side.

Giggles escape you and you swat his hand away. He doesn't go far, lifting his arm to brush some stray hairs out of your face. His hand lingers on the side of your face, soothing the pad of his thumb against your cheek.

You lean into his touch, gazing up at him with an affectionate glaze in your eyes; a look that gives him butterflies.

"Wowww," you say dreamily. "You're handsome."

James feels his heart flip in his chest. "Thank you, love," he says, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Hey," Sirius says, appearing out of nowhere as he lazily throws an arm over your shoulders, "How's it going over here?"

While you're distracted with Sirius, James waves over the bartender and replaces your drink with water. The next time you reach for your glass, you hesitate.

"Where's my cosmo magic fizzy thingy?" you ask, an eyebrow raised as you glance at James.

"You must've finished it," he shrugs, acting clueless.

"That's like the oldest trick in the book. You replaced it with water and now you're trying to be sneaky!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," James feigns innocence.

You giggle, bringing the straw to your lips. "I knew you'd take care of me. I love you," you say, happily sipping your water.

James feels another eye-wrinkling smile break out on his face. "I love you too, pretty girl."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[averyakuma]

Secret Admirer

Pairing - Alastor X fem! Reader

Plot - Fluff, building up friendship, secret admirer, physical contact? 🫢

A/N - I’m either gonna cringe so bad at this prompt or really like it 😁 also I cannot sleep it’s almost 2am 😪😢

It’s has been only a couple of months ever since Charlie brought you in to stay and work at the Hazbin Hotel, and let’s say you felt home sweet home.

Even though you were still adjusting to the new place over all, it was definitely better than staying with roommates who wouldn’t even pay for their part of the rent, you were scrolling on your phone, slightly tilted to the couch arm. You were bored out of your mind, you finished all your tasks, and it didn’t look like the others needed help with their jobs. You couldn’t help but think about a special someone in mind, Alastor.

At first, you and Alastor seemed to hate each other, but the more you both got to know each other, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. You put down your phone on your side and turned it off, thinking deeper. Of course, he’s such a tease with his sinister smile of his, but you thought it was charming.

When you were done thinking about this ‘deer’ of yours, you felt a pair of eyes on you. You looked around to see if anyone was there except for husk because obviously he was working at the bar, but nobody else to be seen. You shrugged it off. As you were about to switch apps, someone had snatched your phone out of your hands, it was Alastor.

“I already told you my dear, no phones allowed in this hotel.” He held your phone with his two fingers, like it was something disgusting or smelly. You sighed while looking up at Alastor, as it was already the fifth time this week he had done this. He took your phone, gave you a lecture, and then make it disappear. “Why do you care so much? Plus how long have you been watching me? I thought you were up in your radio tower.” You said as you stood up, crossing your arms.

Alastor was slightly stunned for you to know how he was watching you from afar, as your secret admirer it was kind of hard to keep it in. “Well dear, we don’t want the V’s to get to us y’know, plus your eyes are glued to it, why not focus your eyes on me instead?” He tilted your head to look up at him. You slightly gulped with nervousness, but shook it off immediately.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go to my room, bye Al.” You scoffed as you sat up, walking to your own room. Alastor watched you walk away, sighing once out of his sight. He didn’t mean to make you annoyed at him, but it was just the honest truth.

You were obviously tired of Alastor doing this. As you slammed your door behind you, you plopped down on your soft bed, groaning in your pillow. You turned your head to the side to look at your clock on your bedside, with a picture of you and the others hanging out with each other, and having genuinely good time. You picked it up and smiled at it, and put the picture frame back.

After a few hours, you heard a knock on your door. You turn your head to ask, “Who is it?” No response. You sigh and open the door , you look down to see a little gift box. You pick it up and turn around, still having the door opened. You look at the tag that says, ‘From Alastor’ You smile at it, opening the box to see a letter and your souvenir.

You open the letter to read,

To my dearest,

I apologize for taking your phone, again.. I’m just saying all this and that because I don’t want the V’s to ruin the hotel, I hope you understand.. I let a souvenir for you so it hopefully distracts you from your electronic.

-Alastor

You smiled warmly again and hugged the souvenir and letter, appreciating it. You felt a pair of warm hands wrap around you from the back, making you stunned. Alastor snuggled his head into your neck, his smile cracking a little. He muttered, “I’m sorry, I hope you can forgive me” and snuggled closer, tightening his grip. You never seen him like this before, after all he was the Radio Demon.

“I forgive you.”

Pecking his cheek.

AGGHHHHH THIS IS SCTUALLY SO CUTEE

[chuuyasheaven]

♡ Addicted to your kisses ♡

♡ Tags: Dazai Osamu / afab! Reader, making out, pet names, praising, soft sex??, desk fucking??, idk what's acc happening rn, Reader distracting Dazai, p/without any/p? , might contain grammar errors, rushed drabble, cringe, etc.

♡ Notes: NEW FORMAT ?!?! But also srry for disappearing, school's already making me want to kms

Dazai had a lot to do this week, there were a ridiculous amount of documents and reports which had to be filled. He also didn't take a lot of breaks during all this, and the worst thing of all? Not being able to be around you. Not being around your sweet touches, your sweet voice and most of all, your addictive kisses. But it's probably better this way, he may be locked in his room at all times but atleast he's not getting distracted!

When you first found out, you were glad that he was catching up on stuff, but now it has been almost two days since you last been with him. Hell, you even started to get worried, so why not check up on him? Just a quick peak and small talk and then leave him be? That was your original plan, trying not to get him overwork himself, which started off innocently. . Until you kissed him. It was just a quick kiss on the forehead, how did it escalate to this?!

"S–shit, i missed you so much, 'donna.", Dazai panted between kisses, while you were just eager for his lips to touch yours again. From this one kiss, it all started from one innocent kiss for most of the paperwork to lay on the floor and you sitting on his desk, with your arms around his neck as he made out with you passionately. You were so deep into it that even his tongue entered your mouth, fighting for dominance even though you're submitting to him. Dazai's hands are now on your waist, holding you close to him. "Did you miss me too?"

"Yes, i did. . a lot, 'Samu.", you answered his question, just the way he wanted it. "Your kisses are so addictive, darling, i just can't stop after one.", he explained while looking you in the eyes lovingly. You needed him so bad, it was even a joke anymore, and trust me, he could tell. "You want more, love?", he asked, you nodded once more, eagerly and excitedly. Dazai only smirked and slid of your pants, leaving you in your panties. He then unbuckles his own belt. You could see his obvious boner, getting more excited yourself.

Dazai just took out his dick and pushed your panties impatiently to the side, sliding into you immediately. When he was in fully, you let out a quiet whimper. After waiting for a few seconds for you to adjust, you gave him the sign to start. Dazai moved his hips slowly first, already groaning in pleasure while your whimpers turned into moans. His hands were still on your hips, his head now on your shoulder trying to stay quiet. "You feel so good, f–fuck. .", he grunted softly into your ear, only getting you wetter. Dazai's thrusts got faster as this went on, he himself started to whimper slowly.

"You're s–so pretty, I can't–,", Dazai started, getting cut off by his cock twitching so good inside you, that it he had to take a deep breath to continue. Dazai giggled drunkenly before continuing his sentence. "I c–can't control myself. But you like it, don't you? You l–like the way you have me wrapped around fingers so easily.", You arched your back as he trusted into you deep, letting out a slutty moan during it. "Y–you're such a good girl, I love you so m–much.", he whimpered softly, twitching a second time.

The skin slapping in the room got louder and sloppier, meaning that you and Dazai got closer to your orgasm. You placed your legs around his waist, resulting into him going even deeper than before. "D–dazai,", you whimper loud enough for him to hear. "Y–yes, my love?", he asked while lifting his head from your shoulder, smiling drunkenly at you, very slight drool rolling down the corner of his mouth. "C–can I get a kiss, p–please?", he just leaned in, kissing you again. As his lips smashed against yours, your back arched again. Dazai twitched once more before cumming inside you, both of moaning into the kiss while you came with him at the same time.

Letting go of the kiss, you tried catching your breath and Dazai pulled out a few minutes later, sitting down back onto his chair and leaving you still on top of his desk. "Did you finish your work, 'Samu?", you asked, while Dazai just laid on your thighs breathing lightly. "Not really,", he stated. "Then go finish it. You know what happens when you don't.", you warned him until you felt his warm breath get closer to your inner thighs. "Relax, darling, let me clean you up first, hm?", before you could protest, Dazai was already breathing towards your cunt's direction.

"—I can't leave you leaking our juices onto my desk, can I, 'donna?"

AHHH I ACC LIKE THIS !! ♡

♡ Random tags:: @soukokulatte, @rxyyyyy, @miloofc !!

[haykawas]

✩•̩̩͙*˚ MONDAY – GETO SUGURU.

summary : you have five days to ask your hot tattooed boss out. better make it count.

word count : 1.3K tags : tattoo shop owner!suguru, modern au, pining, workplace AU, fem!reader, smoking.

MONDAY – TUESDAY

You nervously bit your lip as you considered going out the threshold, your right hand hovering over the doorknob as your thoughts went haywire. You knew what was behind – or rather, who was –, you knew you had to do something about it because you’d been having a stupid crush on the hot owner of your new workplace for a few months now and you just couldn’t seem to get him out of your system – and yes, it didn’t help that you literally saw him every day. 

But honestly, who could blame you? Heavily tattooed – logical, seeing as he literally owned a tattoo parlor –, pierced, with long black hair and sparkling brown eyes, he surely was everyone’s dream man come true.

You wanted to do it right, go right to him, act cool and mysterious, and subtly ask him out while he smiled sheepishly, cheeks red at your forwardness. 

But you knew you couldn’t, that all of this was in your head. For one, he was absolutely not the type to blush. He was the type to make people blush. Second, Suguru was the most popular one at the shop, and considering you also worked with certified heartbreakers like Satoru and Toji, it was something to say. But how couldn’t he be? He was sweet and charming, a smooth talker. He always had the right words and had to be the most patient man you’d ever met.

And of course, he was also smoking hot. It also didn’t help that all you managed to do when you came in less than a three-meter radius from him was act clumsy and stutter like a newborn learning how to speak. You were definitely aware of the situation. The fact that he was way way out of your league. And you’d have discarded the thought of asking him out if Satoru hadn’t infiltrated your mind and set your heart racing when he’d whispered to you that someone he knew was planning on asking his best friend out this Friday.

“I mean, have you seen the guy?” He’d said, a knowing smirk on his lips, “You have ‘till Friday to make a move, or you’re fucked.”

Today was Monday. 

It was Monday, and of course, you still hadn’t said a single word to him. Sure, you two often found yourselves talking about work, new designs you’d come up with, and you had made sure to come to him every time you needed some advice, – and surprisingly, he’d also started doing so, setting your heart on fire every time he came to you –, but that was it. You two had never hung out together outside of work, even though you often had nights out with the others.

You shook your head and turned the doorknob, deciding you were going to stop acting like a schoolgirl with a stupid crush because it was honestly embarrassing. But then you saw him and immediately went back on your words.

God, he was just so effortlessly perfect. Who were you kidding? You could never stop acting this stupid when he looked like this.

He looked engrossed in a conversation, slender hands busy taping against the screen of his phone, a small grin on his lips, and you immediately considered going back inside. You were cringing inside, wondering what you were thinking coming back there when he was clearly busy.

But superior forces must’ve had other plans for you, because before you could make a hasty retreat inside the shop, your foot caught on a loose cobblestone, causing you to stumble and knock off a stack of empty crates.

You froze, the crates clattering and crashing to the ground. If he hadn’t heard you before, he sure had now. You sighed, lifting your eyes to see him, a cigarette casually hanging from his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he beckoned you over with a nod and an amused smile. You looked left and right to see if he was calling someone else over, but quickly realized there was no one else outside. Your head turned to him, cheeks burning from embarrassment as he chuckled at your action. “Care to join me?” He added with a smile, before taking a long drag out of his burning stick.

You bit your lip and complied, leaning against the wall right next to him, as you tried holding in violent coughs, the smoke hurting your lungs. You were silent and must have been staring at the cigarette he was gracefully holding too intently, because he suddenly held it out to you, “You smoke?”

You melted at the sound of his voice, rich and gentle. And, no. No, you didn’t smoke. You absolutely didn’t and you’d never even wanted to try it.

So you couldn’t understand why the hell you were telling him that yes, you did, that you were an expert at rolling blunts at that, like you’d done this your entire life, when even the fruity smokes from fairs made you sick to your stomach. But… you didn’t want to tell him that no, that you found it repulsive at best. Besides… you kind of wanted to try it, now. See why he loved it so much. It couldn’t be that bad if he did, right?

You weren’t sure about that. But honestly, you didn’t even care if it gave you the chance to stand that close to him and share a moment, as short and insignificant as it may have been, with the man you’d been pining after for a while now.

You accepted the cigarette when he handed it to you, clumsily gripping it between two fingers as you stared at it hesitantly. You didn’t know how you looked right now, but you hoped you came across as at least a quarter as confident as he did. You know you didn’t, because as soon as you took your first drag, you started coughing uncontrollably, the smoke burning your throat as you gasped for fresh air.

“Definitely an expert at this, are you?” He teased, his focused gaze not leaving your form one bit as he took the stick back from your hand to place it between his plush lips. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke in your direction, and his eyes crinkled with amusement as he watched you try not to cough it all out. His lips curled into a playful smile, tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip as he watched your flustered form. You were just so damn cute.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice lower, “smoking’s not for everyone. I’m sure you must be an… expert, at something else.” He winked, his gaze lingering longer than necessary as he took you in from head to toe before he met your eyes once again.

Your breath caught in your throat at the implication of his words, heart racing as you tried to decipher what he must’ve meant by that. Surely it was innocent.

…Right?

The man suddenly straightened up, his playful demeanor shifting as he glanced at his watch. “Well,” he sighed, “break time’s over for me.” He casually tossed the half-smoked cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his Doc Martens boot.

You nodded at him with a smile, but couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at the prospect of the conversation coming to an end so soon. This was the longest you’d ever found yourself alone with him, and you hadn’t even come close to asking him out. But before you could say a word, he met your eyes with a knowing smile. 

“If you ever want to experience new things, though…” he dragged out, hawk eyes not leaving yours, “you know where to find me.” The suggestion hung in the air long after the door swung shut behind him, and you let yourself slide against the wall of the alley, lightheaded. A few words from his soft lips had been all it took to make you lose your cool.

Oh, you were so fucked.

…And you still hadn’t confessed. Damn you, Suguru Geto.

AN : ok soo i actually haven't posted a fic about any fandom since like 2016/2017 so i'm back to stage 1 lmao. english is not my first language so i may update my posts sometimes to correct things a little too!! plus it hasn't been proofread yet bc it's 1am where i live rn so yeah. this os is actually meant to have followups, so if people like it i'll work on more parts for this (idk if this'll show up in searches since it's a new blog tho but oh weLL) (it was actually meant to be a drabble but i went overboard) (i still had to force myself to stop writing more)

[scoops-aboy86]

Here, have an au drabble with always-a-girl Stevie Harrington and her boyfriend (husband?) being absolutely roasted by Max and their own dumbassery. Inspired by all the fics where Steddie open condoms with their teeth and a part of me cringes—even though, like, that’s probably accurate to the 80s, idek. 🤦‍♀️

”What?” Stevie says blankly. She resettles the baby in her arms, switching him to her other breast before he makes her feel lopsided—the mouth on this kid, just like his daddy. Who is on the other side of the room, frozen in the doorway with the tray of snacks she’d requested. 

“What?” Max parrots back, nonplussed by Stevie’s confusion. “You didn’t know? You seriously—“ and, fuck, she’s starting to smirk now, the little shit “—really didn’t know?”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, voice cracking and everything. His already big eyes are widened to maximum capacity, fixed on Stevie and their son and her baby bump that’s just starting to show with the next rugrat on the way, because apparently—

“Yes I’m sure,” Max nearly shrieks, lowering her voice just in time that little James doesn’t start fussing. “You’re not supposed to open condom wrappers with your teeth because the latex is right there too! Christ, how are you two considered functioning adults?”

Stevie’s face feels so hot, she’s sure she must look like a tomato right now. A tomato that hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in months and is ‘glowing’ from a morning spent praying out her morning sickness to the porcelain god. And like, don’t get her wrong, she’s happy with her life, she always wanted to be a mom… but neither pregnancy had been exactly planned.

They’d always wrapped up before sex, so it had never occurred to her that she should double up by getting on birth control or something. 

Her eyes meet Eddie’s, and they’re both looking at each other sheepish as hell because holy shit. Holy shit. 

“We can’t ever tell them,” Stevie says. 

“Never,” Eddie agrees faintly, finally approaching with her snacks. (About damn time, she thinks impatiently as she reaches for a pickle, shock and chagrin notwithstanding.) “Robin will never let us hear the end of it. And Dustin—oh my god, can you imagine the lecture? The little shit would bring visual goddamn aids!”

Stevie covers the baby’s ears with the burp cloth she’s going to have to move back to her shoulder in a minute and hisses, “Eds, I meant the babies!”

“Dustin’s kind of like a baby,” Max snickers. “You’ll have to call these ones the twins. Irish twins, y’know? For clarity.”

Meanwhile, “Don’t look at me like that,” Eddie begs Stevie with a wince. “My hand to god, I’ll never try to be sexy again!”

“You’re damn right you won’t,” she shoots back. “When I told you I daydreamed as a kid about having six, I didn’t mean it as a fucking sprint!”

Privately, she doesn’t entirely mean it. Sure, preparing for an infant when already in possession of one is a lot, but she can’t say she’s as put out as everyone keeps expecting her to be about an immediate round two of putting on baby weight. Eddie had been going crazy over her curves during the two minutes or so each week they actually have time and energy to take times for themselves, and personally she’s convinced her tits have never looked better. Still…

“You’re right about Robin and Dustin though,” she admits, turning to Max and steeling herself for negotiations. “How much to keep your mouth shut?”

Permanent tag list:

@hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[dira333]

1,2,3 - you can count on me - Kakashi x Reader

A/N: Reader could be seen as a Ex-Root-Member?

tagging: @revasserium because your Zoro piece is still in the works

1.

Falling in love had always been such a mystery to Kakashi.

He never knew his parents as a couple, but he’d seen how Minato acted around Kushina and even Asuma and Kurenai had acted as unwanted examples of something he never really understood. 

There was a point in friendship, that he understood. He had friends, he liked having friends and he would sooner give his life than betray these friendships. But love? 

Love was something for people who had less trauma to carry, for those who did not wake up at night screaming or gasping for air or wishing to go back in time and switch places with a friend.

But here he was, staring dumbfoundedly into a cup of tea he was preparing. 

He didn’t even like tea that much but he had more than enough at home - because he was in love - and knew how to make it just the right way - because he was in love.

He blew softly at the rising steam and set it down at the table in front of you.

“There you go.” He said softly and watched in fascination as you lifted the cup, brought it to your face, and sniffed before taking the first sip. 

Kakashi had half a mind to wonder if you had noticed his beginning crisis in the kitchenette or if you noticed how utterly pathetic he was being, besotted by something as ordinary as you drinking tea.

Was that what love was? More than just knowing the tiny things that made you you - because he knew a lot about Guy as well and he did not enjoy that knowledge half as much - but being moved by that knowledge? 

He knew how you liked your tea and when you liked it. 

You’d mentioned once that going through mission reports was much more enjoyable with a cup of tea and ever since then he’d been careful to always have enough of it at hand. 

You preferred white tea over black and jasmine over green and it was a testament to both his attentiveness and foolishness that his cupboards were filled with both white tea and jasmine. 

He’d thought that your sniffing was a testament to your past - always attentive and always on your toes, never taking a simple beverage for granted lest it could have been poisoned - but realized that it wasn’t just that. 

It was - and he’d never admit that out loud - cute. 

.

2.

Kakashi would never have thought that in a relationship with him, he’d be the saner one.

But here he was, going to argue with Tsume over something that could have been thoroughly avoided if only he could have been a fool at the right time. But he wasn’t.

“Why do you need another puppy?” 

Inuzuka Tsume looked at him as if he had just pissed onto her shoes.

“It’s not for me.” 

Wrong answer. Absolutely wrong answer. Her eyebrows were doing things they shouldn’t be able to do.

“Look.” He said and he cringed at the way his voice sounded. He sounded like he was begging. Which he was, kinda, but that was beside the point. “I came to you because I know you can keep a secret.”

Tsume blinked. That was a good sign. She had not kicked him out of the house yet. 

“I am seeing someone.” Tsume blinked again, more rapidly this time. That wasn’t as good a sign as the first one, but he soldiered one. “And she’s well… I want to give her a puppy. It would be our anniversary, kind of and she never had a pet before and she loves the dogs but they are Ninken and not pets, and well, I heard you’ve got a new litter. It would mean the world to her.”

“You don’t want to give her a Ninken and you came to me?” Tsume asked, her voice carrying a weird pitch he did not like.

“Well, I was hoping you’d have like an odd one of the bunch or something like that.” Her mouth did something he really did not like and he backpedaled right away.

“Or better yet, she can raise it to be a Ninken, which was my first idea anyway. She would bond so much more with it that way.”

“She’s here? Not on a mission?”

“Uh, no.” Where was this going?

“Be here at three. Don’t be late.”

“It’s actually a surprise-” He started but she threw him a glare that shut him up.

“Don’t be late.” She reminded him again.

-

They were late by thirty minutes but Hana opened the door and Kakashi considered that evening it out. Hana sent him a look that told him that she knew exactly what was going on here but she stepped aside and smiled at you.

“Hi, are you excited?”

“I don’t know.” You truthfully explained, your bluntness another reminder of why he’d fallen in love with you in the first place. 

The puppies were in a separate room, six fat little bundles of fur and noise, running around each other and play fighting their brothers and sisters.

Kakashi could tell right away that you were overwhelmed. He had wanted to avoid just that, had planned to pick the dog out himself, knowing you’d get in your head about the choice and what it all entailed and what did one do with a dog anyway?

“Hey.” He grabbed your elbow and pulled you back towards himself until his chest pressed into your back. “Why don’t you take a seat in the kitchen and we’ll bring them to you, one by one?”

“Is that possible?” You asked and Hana nodded slowly. “Mom’s in the kitchen. Just go right through there.”

Kakashi wasn’t sure if leaving you alone with Tsume was the best idea but Hana was waving at him to move and pick one of the puppies up and you had already left anyway, eager to get away from the noise.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Hana asked as he looked down at the dogs. Akamaru’s white fur had mixed with the black of the mother, leaving five of them with interesting patterns of black and white and one slightly smaller one who was a soft grey. He picked him up instantly and Hana threw him a look. 

“Not that one. Kiba wants him for himself.”

Kakashi sighed and put the little one down, picking up another one instead that had a black streak right under his nose, making him look like he’d grown a beard.

But as they walked through the door towards the kitchen, a lithe black body pressed through the door that led to the garden. 

It was a large dog, it’s fur completely black. Kakashi could instantly tell that it had been a powerful Ninken but it had grown old, its shoulders sagging a little as it walked. Hana tensed next to him and Tsume, seated at the kitchen table opposite to you, looked at the dog approaching them. 

“What is it, Ume?” She asked the dog that stopped, looked at Tsume, and then turned towards you with a determination that scared Kakashi.

“What is she-” He started but Tsume threw him a glare.

The dog stopped in front of you, seized you up, and put his head on your lap without a moment of hesitation.

Silence fell over the table as you looked down at the massive head that covered your legs.

“What do I do?” You asked, your shoulders stiff.

“You can pet her,” Tsume said, but the pitch of her voice was too wobbly for someone as headstrong as her. 

Kakashi watched, utterly fascinated, as you lowered one of your hands and carefully caressed the soft fur between the eyes of the dog.

“Hello Ume,” you murmured. The dog let out a low whine and your head snapped up right away, your eyes searching for Kakashi.

“She likes it.” He tells you softly. “She doesn’t talk like Pakkun.”

He barely notices that Hana takes the puppy from his arms nor that Tsume grabs his elbow and pulls him towards the table.

“Ume,” Tsume starts, “Was Takumi’s dog. He died a few weeks ago.”

Your hand on Ume’s head stills softly.

“I’m sorry.” You tell her and she nods, her eyes not leaving the dog. “Ume’s too old to train with someone else. She was too old to go on missions either but Takumi still took her with him anyway. She’s been refusing contact with anyone but me and she only let me feed her and that was all. She’s been griefing. The fact that she’s choosing you of all people to touch her…” Tsume stops and you look up but not at her, your eyes searching Kakashi’s as if to ask for approval.

“My mother’s name was Ume.” You explain softly. “Grief recognizes grief sometimes.”

You look at Kakashi again, another silent conversation. Kakashi wonders when he started to become the saner one in their relationship. The voice of reason in this mess.

“She’s old.” He tells you softly when looks alone can’t spell out what needs to be said. “She should stay with Tsume.”

Tsume looks at him with furrowed brows then back to you.

“You want to take her?” There’s no saying what that tone means. But with Tsume, every tone is a dangerous tone.

“Why would I take a puppy if this dog needs love?”

-

3.

If Kakashi had to describe you in three words, stubborn would be one of them. 

He’s seen you stare down anyone and anything. Sometimes it’s cute. 

Right now it’s a bit more concerning.

“Why are you staring at the pot?” He asks. His hands itch to hold your waits but first he needs to make sure you’re going through something. Last time he’d been a bit too blind to the signs and ended up with a Senbon in his thigh. Good times.

“I read that if you look away for a second, the milk tends to boil over.”

“Okay?” Kakashi takes a step closer. It’s not unreasonable to not want the milk to boil over. Carefully, cautiously, his hands inch closer to your waist. You sense him coming and lean into him, your focus never wavering.

“What are you cooking milk for?” He asks, content now that he has you in his arms. He drops his nose in the crook of your neck and inhales, pretending to sniff you exaggeratedly to get you to laugh. It works like a charm today and your laughter rings through the kitchen, making more than up for the fact that you’re still not letting the pot out of your sight.

“I wanted to try a new recipe. Hinata mentioned that Hot Chocolate is good for the Soul. I’ve never tried that before.”

“You’ve never tried Hot Chocolate before?” Kakashi’s careful to keep his voice neutral. You don’t take kindly to a tone that might sound of pity. He’s never pitied you once in his life, but he does occasionally sound like it, it seems. 

“Have you?” You ask, pulling his arms a little tighter around you. Ah. Sensitive topic.

“Occasionally.” 

“Tell me about it.”

Memories wash over him. His father used to put Cinnamon into it, a testament to his late mother. Rin always brought bars of chocolate on long missions, and melted them down in a cup of water if there was no milk around.

His breath hitches. The last cup of Hot Chocolate he shared with his Sensei, just a few days before Naruto was born. The one and only Cup of Hot Chocolate he managed to bribe Itachi with, tense silence as he tried to make sense of the younger boy.

Warm lips press onto his. You breathe into him, pull him out of his memories. He blinks, only to realize that he’s still here, that you’re still with him.

You don’t ask if he’s okay. He doesn’t have to pretend he is.

For a moment that’s all there is, the shared of comfort of each other's body being close, the well-known taste of lips you’ve learned to love. 

Something heavy nudges him to the side, breaks the two of you apart.

Ume whines loudly.

“The milk!” You gasp and whirl around. The pot sits calmly on the stove.

Kakashi steps closer, furrows his brows.

“Honey,” He can’t help smiling. “You have to turn the stove on too.”

[reveriememory]

⭐️ °. • Thank You Neil • .° ⭐️

I pushed myself to finish this in time, and I did! I met Neil, and gave him a physical copy. Till this day, I just freak out when I remember… I really admire him! I’ll talk about that and this art piece after the Read More if you’d like to hear about that.

This art piece started in October, last year as an Astarion fan piece, but overtime I realized I wanted to do something more meaningful. I’ve known of Neil since DBH, so why not create something for him? So I added in Neil, and then I left it alone for months. Didn’t really think anything of it since usually all my art follows this treatment. I focus on it for a whole two weeks and then it fades into the background. However, I got word that Neil was coming to my area, and that’s when I started freaking out. Like, oh my god, I need to finish this… can I give this to him? I’ve never gone to a convention before… what am I gonna do?

So I kept debating to finish this, because I didn’t know what was allowed, and if I could even finish in time, how would I even print this? I mean, I can just finish it at my own pace and tag him or something. In the end, I decided that it’s more important to me to get it to him in person, that way I can also get my copy signed. I had to plan this all out, and long story short, I rushed it in a week. I pulled two all-nighters, and just REALLY rushed on poor Gavin in the background. Gavin was actually a last minute decision! I would’ve added Kamski, but he’s literally just a face copy of Neil so I decided against that, and Gavin was the close second. The reason I chose DBH was because that’s where I first discovered Neil. I was a fan of this game when it first released. Heisenberg was another option, but I never got to his part of the game so I felt it wasn’t a good pick since I was going under personal limitations. Not to mention, really low on time. However, I added some references on the wall, specifically the ones where it was games that I had played! I could’ve added more, but again- time. I drew them in a motion capture studio, because I envision Neil practicing and performing with the characters he had worked on. I just felt like It was a cute little idea, and I admire Neil for his motion capture the most. It’s something I’m trying to get into, or some form of it at least.

Then. The Day.

AHHHHHH. I was starstruck. I’m just going to sum it up and talk about this specific moment. I’m next in line and I just blurt out, “I’m trying really hard not to get starstruck!” But I’m already shaky and half my memory gone. I was so anxious, trying to get through the moment that I didn’t really get to enjoy the moment, but man, am I still happy. I tell him about the piece and he’s like oh, what have you been working on? The drawing got jammed in its protector, so I was just struggling with it. “OH, sorry, it’s stuck!” And he thankfully found it funny. Gave it to him, got my copy signed and perfect. But AHHHH, I’m anxious right? I ask him if he could sign the back of it, because I was worried I’d cringe at the piece in the future. I normally don’t call my art cringe but why, why was I THAT honest—

He’s so quick to reply, super sweet man, just tells me no, don’t cringe. He also asked me about my focus in motion capture, but that’s another post for another day. I have something in the works for that!

Look, in my defense! I RUSHED the piece, so I knew I’d get a bit irritated in the future seeing my art and knowing I had the time to really do a beautiful job! I just meant that knowing how much potential I had, had I taken advantage of that, it would have turned out so much… not better, but to my liking. I’m content, considering the limitations, but… y’know? Anyways, I still wanted to look at his signature and proudly display that, like aye, I got to meet him!

Considering that I rarely draw real people, I’m definitely proud with how Neil turned out. Just like Neil told me, and many others, can’t be too harsh with myself. When working on this, I was super excited and actually thrived while working on it. Yes, under pressure, but dedicated. I can’t remember the last time I ever fixated on an art piece like this. With that said, I definitely want to try again in the future and get better at drawing semi-realism. And Neil is coming back to my area next year so… ideas.

Anyways, thank you for reading my little journal entry! Back to work I go~

[harleehazbinfics]

Home is where my heart is.

Chapter 6: Surprise! Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 1188 A/N: ehehehehe yeah of i had to put this in, he's our good lil duck boy. also also, if you want to be tagged for future updates you can dm me or reply under this 👉👈

I ran my fingers through the desk and lifted my eyes to the walls covered in décor and pictures. Lightly humming as I walked further into the room and stood next to the slumping figure fixated in his creation.

“Seems like you’ve been up all night again, your majesty. Something bothering you?” I asked raising my eyebrow as I continued to watch him tinker away.

“Well, the extermination this year finally ended and now, they wanted to have a meeting with me. How fun,” he replied sarcastically rolling his eyes all the while and making gestures.

I laughed, crossed my arms, and replied, “I suppose anyone wouldn’t be enthusiastic to meet the ex-partner of their spouse. Have you talked to Charlie about it? Seems like she needs that extra push, besides, that would mean that you wouldn’t have to see Adam’s face.”

Lucifer’s face immediately lights up at my advice but not a second later he frets, “But, how do I say it? What if I say the wrong thing and she hates me forever?!”

He shoots up from his seat from worry that I had to take his shoulders and ease him back down on the chair and patting them, “You worry too much~. Charlie loves her dad too much to do that anyway. Just say what you want to say and then wrap it up nicely.”

He nods taking a deep breath. He paces around the room thinking what to say first and took his phone out of his pocket. He hovered his hand on her number he dials it up and bites his nails as he tried to soothe himself. While I just silently stood still and waited for him to end his call.

“HI CHARLIEEE~”

I couldn’t help but cringe when he couldn’t control his tone but kept an encouraging smile on my face as he continued to talk to her.

“Listen, there’s going to be a meeting with the angels, and I wanted you to attend for me! I can’t go right now since I have… veryyy important things to do today.”

He looks over at me for approval while I gave him two thumbs up in satisfaction from his performance.

“No problem. Stay safe! Love you!”

He lets out a sigh of relief changing into his snake form making me giggle at his silliness. I plucked him off the ground and placed him on his desk.

“Well, that has to be one of your best performances yet,” I complimented him with a round of applause.

“Thank you, Miledy. I know things would’ve ended up badly if you weren’t here,” he sighs changing back to his normal form.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I mean you did all the talking, so give yourself a pat on the back for a good job, your highness,” I smiled dusting off his top hat and putting it on him.

He smiles sadly and says, “I thought I told you to call me Lucifer, Mel.”

I didn’t falter at his words and just squeezed his shoulder, “You know we can’t. Alastor just came back after 7 years, and I’d rather not have him dig his heels on the King of Hell who happens to be a good friend of mine. You know how crazy he gets,” I joked shrugging my shoulders.

He sighs and slumps his shoulders disappointed in himself, “You’re right. I’m sorry that ever crossed my mind.”

I bumped shoulders with him and just replied, “Hey, you took it better than those other idiots who got their heads so far up their asses that no means consent.”

“Hey, just call me when you need something, okay?” he said smiling at me.

“Sure. See you around, your highness,” I waved before diving through the floor and leisurely made my way to the hotel.

Poking my head out the ground and saw everyone all gathered by the TV, “Uhhhh.”

“Just in time! Come on!” Vaggie reaches for me and takes me out from the ground throwing me in Alastor’s arms, him placing me on his lap.

“Al? What’s happening?” I asked still in his arms and walks us into a room, probably doesn’t have any plans to put me down any time soon.

“I made a little deal with the princess’ little girlfriend. Now, we have to record a new commercial for her,” he answered walking us towards a vanity, placing me on the seat.

“Oh, they didn’t like what you made for them?” I teased laughing lightly.

“You know I’d rather eat a can of worms than be involved with that,” he says as he rolls his eyes, then squeezing my shoulders. “Now, then time to get you dressed up!”

He twirls his finger above my head and changes my outfit. I looked at the mirror and immediately noticed the dress I was wearing. It was the same loose blue dress that I wore at the bar when we first met.

“Aw, dear. I haven’t worn this dress in ages!” I exclaimed holding my necklace feeling sentimental.

He smiles at me, pleased with himself and responds merrily, “You look ravishing as always, sweetheart!”

He offers his hand for me to take and onto my feet. He dips his head and kiss the back of my hand, while I blush at his actions that he takes in as he takes a peek at my reactions. He gives me a laugh then places both of his hands on my cheeks to hold and cradle me in them while nuzzling his face to mine, making me feel warm and fuzzy inside from his wholesome display of affection.

“As much as I want to cuddle with you, darling. I think we should go help them film now,” I suggested softly with a giggle.

He rolls his eyes with a smile and begrudgingly parts from me, of course not before giving me a kiss.

The door bursts open and there Angel yells, “Let’s go sickos. Let’s get this show on the road.”

~Later~

While we waited for Charlie, Al and I sat on the sofa like we used to when we were expecting Abby and just talked to each other not minding the looks both Husk and Angel gave us.

“Before we recorded the advertisement,” he answers glancing down at me, “where have you been?”

“Just visited a friend. I get worried for him after exterminations happen,” I explained which was all true.

He hums and sees Charlie come in as well, “Well, I hope you had a fun time.”

“—Alastor pulled some strings and it’s about to air,” Vaggie spoke leading her girlfriend to the couch.

“And I pulled a few limbs too!” he ‘laughed’ while Charlie and I exchanged waves.

“Wait, the commercial? You guys made a new one?” she asks.

“Yeah! One of my better performances if I do say so myself,” Angel proudly states.

“That’s amazing,” Charlie starts before getting cut off by Angel.

“SHH! It’s starting!”

But before the ad could play it gets interrupted by a news flash causing a choir of complaints.

“Breaking news in hell today! We just received word from the heaven embassy that next extermination is happening sooner than ever before. That means where’s all royally fucked!”

The TV cuts to the countdown changing to 176 days.

[serawritesthings]

hi! do you take requests? if not you can discard this but i really love the way you write emotionally charged moments so i’d love your writing style on this prompt, it can be a one shot or more of a blurb whichever you like: so perhaps taking place post canon where arthur is found half dead on that cliff and reader is nursing him back to health, trying hard to stay strong and believe he’ll get better but arthur is just waiting to die any day now and wishing he hadn’t been found, until he hears reader in another room crying to herself having to see him so deathly ill like that and slowly losing hope. so he starts feeling more determined to at least try for her sake and maybe see her smile one last time. but in the end he does get better, not quite back to his full strength yet but better 🥹 hope i didn’t ramble too much, i absolutely love your work and the way you write and i can’t wait to see what you post next 🫶🏻

IN TREMBLING ARMS

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | While the world you had built around yourself seemed to crumble right before you, the last measures to sustain your happiness grew hard to take as the man you love fell deeper into his own despair. Tags | Angst-heavy, description of violence and wounds, fluff somewhere... :o Word Count | 11.4k A/N | Hiiii lovelies! ♡ I recently got this request that I really liked the sound of, which meant I obviously had to write it;) I hope what I wrote was in tune with what you had in mind! Enjoy! Also, thank you for the kind words♡

The pain of recalling an old life is surely something we’re all familiar with. Undoubtedly, it’s a brutal world we live in, one that sometimes takes too much and only gives small crumbles in return. You often found yourself crawling the ground to pick up these crumbs, laden with dust and dirt, just like your joyous memories are tainted in blood and pain–small glimpses of happiness amidst the hardship in day-to-day life, the tiny things that make living worth fighting for.

They were all thanks to Arthur. You’d been aware for quite a while that he didn’t think highly of himself, meaning he couldn’t possibly estimate how much his presence impacted your life. He couldn’t see that every good memory lately was in his favor–how he held your entire world in the bare palm of his hands. He could never understand, and you could tell he didn’t.

Every part of you was clinging to the last remains of a man who dropped the world’s weight off his shoulders, preparing to breathe the last breaths on this earth, alone and without you. It was so close now that you could almost taste it. You could tell by how his shoulders dropped heavily in resignation, the words that grew dull and lifeless, and his wit that never failed to bring a smile to your lips disappeared. 

Even so, you saw glimpses of the man you fell for, and if you looked closely, you could find those few crumbles that gave you hope, even though they were ridden with filth. He’d still pinch your waist lightly to jest when you were in a bad mood, always putting your comfort above his own, even though he needed it more.

The burden on his shoulders was heavier than ever when he returned from being out. He was no doubt following Dutch's careless orders that, with time, became more uncaring and, worst of all, unsafe. It bothered you heavily that there was no regret anymore as he bid his orders around like Arthur wasn’t hunching down in exhaust with every step, more often than not needing a seat as coughs so rough wrecked through him, never failing to make you cringe.

Of course, Arthur could take care of himself, never stopping short of explaining that to you. But now, times were different, and you could see his eyes grow slightly more hollow every time he returned to you, and his bloodshot eyes grew into normality.

So naturally, you never stopped short when voicing your concerns to Arthur, but he was so headstrong he refused to acknowledge the toll everything was taking on his body. Deep down, you wondered if he continued since he had come to terms with his fate, putting other’s safety before his own because he had simply stopped trying. 

He damned you for not listening to him, but his words held no real threat because he couldn't find it in himself to force you away against your will. So he let you stay, and through his violent coughs and wheezing, he always felt you rub his back soothingly, knowing that his time was running short. Because of this, he took every chance to bask in your gentle touches that felt more like home than anything else.

"Did you find out anything about John today?" Speaking softly, you run your fingers through his tousled hair, undoubtedly from wearing his rugged hat all day, observing his tired face as you were on his lap, Arthur sitting down as he came back to rest his aching legs.

"Mmm, we did." Thumbing at the fabric of the shirt you had stolen from him, he let the words rumble softly against you, breathing warmly against the chilled skin of your cheek.

"Abigail's real worried, you know, begged to come with us." Humming, you pondered over his words. Your dear friend has been over her head in worry as of late, the disappearance of John not doing the slightest to ease her anxiety.

"We'll get him back." You weren't sure if you were reassuring Arthur or yourself, but then again, there wasn't much you were sure of anymore. It seemed unlikely that anything you would say would comfort him, but that didn’t mean you didn’t try–every chance you got, you wanted to make him see reason.

Bringing you closer, he breathed heavily into your shoulder, throat whistling slightly from the strain, as his hands gripped your waist firmly, sighing in contentment when you hugged him back.

"How are you feeling?" you whispered, earlier taking notice of his eyes that had grown redder than usual and the slight blood stain he hastily wiped when you approached him, hoping you didn't get the time to spot it.

"The usual, I guess." Nodding slightly to appear positive before you, he let out a heavy sigh.

As the silence stretched, he kissed the top of your head lovingly after a while when you nuzzled your head further into his shoulder, savoring the moment since you hadn’t seen him much these past days. 

"Tomorrow, me and Sadie thought about goin’-" You didn't give him a chance to finish, lifting your head from his shoulder as a frown appeared. God, you knew it was coming, but you had hoped he would still see reason and not do something stupid like that in his condition.

"Couldn't someone else go with Sadie? You not-" Catching yourself before you said the words you knew would get him riled up, you sighed slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm just so worried about you, Arthur. About everything."

"Hey." Cradling you closer, he softly grabbed your chin between his calloused fingers, beckoning you to meet his warm gaze. "What did we talk about, hm? I'll be alright." 

You grabbed his cheek and stroked your thumbs against the scarred skin. He was so beautiful to you, just like he had always been, and you were sure he would scoff at you if you voiced your thoughts. But it was true. That face had seen you through the most challenging times of your life, and never had they been the reason for your tribulations and sadness. 

"Now you're just lying to me to make me feel better." A long silence followed as you stared at each other, both stubborn beyond means, until the corners of his mouth raised slightly, a low chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile against your will, trying to keep your previous frown on your face. 

His eyes, often weathered and wise, turned into soft pools of warmth and affection as they gazed at you. The world’s weight seemed to lift every time, even now, leaving only the tender vulnerability of a man deeply in love.

"Now, now," he spoke, words growing into his usual teasing tone as he grazed his hands along the fabric covering your sides, a wicked smirk growing on his lips. There’s an intoxicating allure to how his lips curve, never stopping short of making the butterflies in your stomach go haywire. "There's that smile I've been looking for." 

Slightly tickling the sides of your stomach, you gasped as you tried peeling his hands away when a giggle left you from the unexpected sensation. Damned be Arthur and his refusal to let you worry about him, always trying to lessen your pain when he was severely worse. 

"No, Arthur! Stop it!" Laughing merrily, he placed small kisses in the small crevice of your neck, relentlessly tickling your sides as you squirmed in his arms, an ugly laugh leaving you as you found it harder and harder to breathe amidst his torture. He snickered audibly at the sound leaving you, always finding humor in the strange quirks he loved so much.

The moment didn't last long, though, for the gut-wrenching coughs that left him amidst your banter made the cheerfulness of the moment quickly grow into a distant memory. Arthur would tell you he was okay and that all he needed was a few moments, just like he always did, but you both knew the disease was growing more severe as time passed.

Your precious memories grew less and less, though, and as time passed, there were hardly any crumbs left for you to pick up. The ugly paint of power, distrust, and hatred covered them. A hatred that grew so deep in every single being that surrounded you, and even in yourself. Hostility from one’s upbringing, misfortune, and wrong-doings. Bitterness for striving towards a goal that doesn’t have a finishing line, only a no-return sign at both the start and end. 

A selfish disdain, it is, and oh so human. How could you possibly find the end where everyone could make amends when they had no will to change? How could you save him when he didn’t want to be saved? His only interest now was to get everyone away from the gang that he could for the time being. It had been apparent for some time now that whatever this was, it was over.

Because of this, Arthur told you to leave some time ago. He had begged you on his hands and knees as the blood he coughed up dripped like rain down his paled, gray skin. A beautiful tragedy it was, one that would leave people in a theater with tears glistening down their cheeks as the sight before them clenched at their hearts. That wasn’t how you experienced it, though. It was more like someone cutting through your numb skin and laying your heart down on the table to unfold every crevice and nook to prod at every part that hurt so terribly with a knife. 

It made you wonder if hearts could bleed. You weren’t sure, but somehow you knew yours did as every strained cough from the man you love caused the tears that fell from your eyes to turn into a deep red, mingling with his on the ground. 

As he begged, you could only stare at the ghost of a man you once loved: the warm skin turning cold under the palm of your hands, calculating and mischievous eyes growing vulnerable and exposed, and strong arms that once held you tightly, weak and skinny. They gripped your skirt for dear life like the sullen fabric covered with filth kept his weary body alive. And god, how you tried, despite the pitying looks thrown your way and resistance from Arthur's side, you wanted to keep him alive.

You had hated no one in your meager, seemingly insignificant life, but you hated Arthur. You hated him passionately for trying to make you leave behind the only thing that made you feel even the slightest bit of happiness. The only reason you had stayed with these people for so long was him, only him, and now he asked you to leave so he could spend the rest of his short time either getting shot or dying from his disease?

“You go now, or I’ll drag you on that train myself and tie you to the seat.” Silence had followed his last attempt to push you away, thick with a wave of heated anger from both of you as the remnants of your love grew shrouded in an unwillingness to understand. You didn’t want to recognize his worry, for you knew it would be the end for you and him.

“I ain’t got much left to lose now, so I must do this. You have to understand. Go.” The bitterness in his words grew colder as he spoke; the conversation that started so filled with passion grew harsh.

“Don’t get much to lose?” Your meek voice was choked up with frustration as you felt your heart drop to the ground. “What about me?!” 

Everything hurt deeply, like he had set your whole body alight and then stomped on the remaining ashes. You had tried so hard to keep your head straight for Arthur through these challenging times, following every step he took loyally, never once questioning his decisions. Him telling you to leave had been the final straw. For him to expect you to give up everything you had done for him made you wonder how much you were worth to him.

“You can’t just tell me to leave!” Broken sobs left you when you spoke, hands trembling where you tried to rip his hands off your skirt, anything to lessen the tightening in your chest. When he didn’t ease his grip, your hands hit his chest as tears flowed down your warm cheeks. He closed his eyes from where he sat, the grip on your skirt turning his skin ghostly pale as you tried to create some distance, refusing to let you back away. 

In your head, he was supposed to want you with him until the last second, and you could not dare imagine it any other way. Because of this, it wounded you deeper than he could imagine.

The hands that never once had grown harsh with you only pulled you closer, letting you bat tirelessly at him while your eyes grew heavy with a furious sadness gnawing at your insides. The surrounding air had become thicker than it usually was in the confines of Beaver Hollow, so it left you gasping for air as the distress wound its way around your throat.

His eyes were as warm as they always seemed when looking at you, and you damned him for it. Even when Arthur broke your heart, he rendered you entirely at his mercy the way he kept this gaze reserved for only you–like he understood you.

“I hate you.” Growing weak, you sank to your knees and rested your weary head on his chest, letting him hold you as you trembled in his sickly arms. 

Soon after that, it seemed everything had reached a breaking point, and it couldn’t have been late enough. Arthur put you behind Sadie on the tall horse, making her promise to get you somewhere safe while he went and risked his life. Risk it for what you thought, kicking and screaming at him as he lifted you. Sadie was trying to comfort you, her hand on your waist as the worry for you and Arthur filled her mind.

"Let me down!" Tears were falling from your bloodshot eyes, filled with endless pools of agony and sorrow as the man before you avoided your gaze. "You're not sending me away!" You attempted to swing your leg over the saddle as you spoke through the hiccups that wrecked through you, fighting against Sadie’s hold.

"Please, sweetheart, come on." Broad arms caught your waist hastily, lifting you to put you back behind the worried woman. "Go with Sadie, now; she'll keep you safe." His voice grew distressed as you resisted, a deep worry for your safety that he always kept as a priority clouding his thoughts when you didn’t comply.

Not listening to him, you shimmered down the horse and threw your arms around Arthur's familiar embrace, burying your head in his shoulder as you breathed in his familiar scent. "Don't leave me here; please take me with you." 

You knew now that his death was inevitable, an end you had refused to acknowledge as possible ever since you first set your eyes on him. Despite this, the love you kept for him made everything pale in comparison, not wanting to spend the endless days of the remaining part of your life without him. If he would find his solace in death, so would you.

He didn't answer you, instead wounding his arms around your smaller frame as he hugged you tightly against him, trying to map out every part of you into his mind so that even in death, he could remember the feeling of you forever. 

"Don't go." You begged him without shame, holding onto him tightly as your tears darkened the material of his shirt. "I'm begging you."

You felt a pair of hands cover your cheeks, the blue orbs you knew so well staring reassuringly into yours, hiding the endless anguish taking cover behind its facade.

"I love you, sweetheart." His voice shook as he spoke, gazing with a terrible agony into yours. "I love you so much, you hear me?" Shaking your head slightly as he said, you could only weep as you realized your attempts to save him were useless. 

"I love you too, Arthur," you said through sobs. Arthur was stroking the tears from your eyes as he pulled you in one last time, face scrunching together from having to leave you as he kissed the top of your hair.  

So, in the end, he watched you leave as you stared after him in disbelief when Sadie set off, your body growing numb as he disappeared between the forest trees, hugging the woman as sobs wrecked through you.

"God." Crouching down, he panted as coughs broke through the silence surrounding him after you departed. But it didn’t seem to be the only thing rendering him on his knee as the dirty ground prodded at his knees, the all-to-consuming thought of never seeing you again clamping at his heart something so fierce he thought he might heave.

He had never been a stranger to heartache, having lived a life full of gut-wrenching memories and stories that were not for the faint-heartedly. But this, this was something entirely else. All these years of fighting, never knowing where he would rest his head the next night, and for what? So he could be free? He had been angry, so very angry at the world. 

It all felt meaningless now, the constant blood on his hands, the pain he had brought others that might as well have been him had he chosen another path, the choice to drag you with him to the gates of hell instead of taking your hand and running off so he could keep you forever. 

And in the end, as he lay there on the mountain, bleak eyes staring at the rising sun, he could feel an unfamiliar peace crawl up his feet, relaxing the very troubled muscles that had never rested up to his chest where a heavy weight had been present his whole life. In it, the heaviness had torn a big hole in his chest that pulled every good thing that had found him in his life into the prolonged darkness. 

 But somehow, a relief was spreading in his mind as he figured peace was closer than he thought, slowly and surely beginning to unfold in front of him. Darkness spread around him as the last lights reached his eyes before the tired lids grew shut, the now ever-so-strong memory of you branded into his mind.

–

You were no stranger to the rain. As a child, you reveled in the droplets that fell from the sky when the clouds formed. It was so simple, yet a memory so strong that it stuck with you throughout your life. Now, though, the rain that clung to your clothes only made the numbness grow worse, unable to feel your fingers as you rode on the muddy path that stretched before you, slippery and treacherous. It was no longer comforting, raking through your body like ice, chilling you from tip to toe.

Although not sure of your actions, there wasn't a single regret in your body for leaving both Sadie and Abigail when they found John, taking the first chance to head back the way you came from, the glimmer of hope that you would discover Arthur alive pushing you on, even though it dimmed with time. 

When John returned, he could only look at you sadly while shaking his head, the look in his eyes enough for you to understand that Arthur hadn’t come with him. But you knew, of course you did, that he wasn’t coming back to you; his words and your knowledge of his ways are telling enough.

You had calmed down now, thinking more logically, but you preferred how you felt before instead of the hole beginning to form in your chest. It consumed you, growing bleaker and bleaker with time, making you wonder if you would ever find Arthur.

You found him eventually, but the torment of seeing him lying lifeless as the warm, lingering evening sun glazed over his skin beat at your bruised heart. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looked so small, like his body was cowering against the ground, seeking shelter from the cold breeze and a world that had grown so cruel, so malicious. 

If the anguish following his departure was anything to go by, the sheer pain that shot through you after your bewildered moment of silence could only be likened to a thousand times worse. What you had feared the most seemed to be reality now, and it couldn’t have hurt any less.

Your aching feet, sore from climbing the far way up the mountain, ran the muddy path up to him as your hands enclosed his cold cheeks–swollen and purple with bruises as dried blood covered the majority of his skin. 

“No, no, no!” You mouthed the words since you couldn’t get a single sound to leave you, a force so firmly clamping at your throat. You grabbed his clothes, shaking him as if it would make a difference and show a sign of life. It didn’t work, so you could only wrap your trembling arms around his neck, wailing out his name while begging the heavens above to bring him back to you, for the pain was too much to bear.

How would you continue life without him? The thought was too heavy to consider, your distressed mind refusing to believe he was gone. He’d always rise back up the moment something brought him down, so strong mentally and physically that you sometimes wondered how he was real. Why couldn’t he do that now and spare you all this hurt?

“Do you remember when we first met, how you always told me we would run away, just you and me?" Grabbing his hand, you placed small, lingering kisses on the battered knuckles, intertwining his fingers with yours as your voice trembled fiercely. 

There had been a magnetic pull in the way his gaze had lingered on you when he spoke of his deepest wishes as if every word was a silent vow etched into the very fabric of your relationship. It’s something you both said of often when everything grew heavy, like an escape from reality to what things could be.

“How can we do that now if you’re going to leave me?” Sobs wrecked through you, gazing at his closed eyes while you internally begged for them to open. “Why are you leaving me?!”

Resting your head on his chest, you breathed in the scent solely your Arthur as he flooded your senses. Your guttural cries of anguish filled the air until your voice broke, eyes growing heavy with strain while you could only lay there with him, imagining he was alive under you.

Your head had grown empty after that, laying upon the body you had so many times before. You remembered the moments of complete and utter peace when he held you in the confines of his tent, warm hands always managing to find sanction around your waist no matter how exhausted he was.

The thought made you smile, remembering how his heartbeat would pick up as you intertwined your fingers. He was in many ways stoic, rarely sharing how you affected him, but you knew. In secret, of course, you knew, and you would kill to feel that again.

But when he fell asleep underneath you, the beating pattern would cease and instead follow a slower thud, never failing to bring you to sleep. Just like it beat now, you felt the lids of your eyes that were still wet with tears grow heavy under the comforting thudding of his heart, lulling you closer and closer to sleep.

Your eyes shot open so fast that you almost got a whiplash, raising your knees in disbelief. Arthur was lying still even now, body still beaten and bruised, but as you put your fingers on his pulse, you could feel it.

There it was, the slight thud of a pulse buried deep between the layers of skin and flesh, keeping Arthur alive despite the turmoil that had rendered his body almost inert. Grabbing the sides of his face, you shook it slightly, hope now filling your mind even though he didn’t move a single muscle. 

God, he was alive, even though barely. The air got lodged in your throat as you felt puzzled, having been dead set on having to bury a corpse. 

“Arthur, can you hear me?” Not a single indication left him as you spoke, wiping the hair covering his eyes so you could get a better look at him. A slight fluttering of his eyelashes could be seen as your voice broke through the stillness of the mountain. The more you grabbed his body in disbelief, the more movements you saw from him: fingers twitching slightly, small intakes of breath, and brows furrowing in small motions. 

Raising on your feet, you sat down with his head in your lap, stroking his cheeks gently before you started tapping at them briskly, anything to wake him up. It didn’t work, so you started calling for him loudly, hoping it would reach him wherever he was. 

“God dammit, Arthur, wake up!” 

That did it. Unfocused eyes began to open up from underneath you, though Arthur found it difficult because of the swelling around the eyes. Seeing him so beaten up hurt you heavily, but you put all your energy into making him regain consciousness, forcing the turmoil far away from your mind. 

“Hey, look at me. Can you see me?” The slightest motion of a nod could be seen, and you thanked whoever above that he responded to you.

Although through blurry eyes, he could see a slight indication of you hovering above him, wondering if he somehow had ended up in heaven to be able to gaze at you one last time. But maybe it was hell after all, the torturing fire replaced with you, barely in reach where he couldn’t touch you, which was the worst kind of torture he could conjure up.

You could see his fingers flex slightly, in your mind trying to show signs that he heard you, but in his stretching so he could reach out to you to touch the softness of your skin with his sinful hands.

“I need your help, Arthur. I can’t carry you alone, so you need to try, okay?” To be quite honest with yourself, you had no idea what you were doing, never mind if it was even possible to get him to move to the state he was in. But you had to try, at least. You weren’t leaving him here to fend for himself in search of help, pondering if those few moments could lead to his death. It was the only way.

“I told you to leave.” Amidst his close-to-death confusion, Arthur had grown more conscious, managing to speak as his eyes closed again. He realized you weren’t conjured up; instead, you were as real as could be as you prodded at his exhausted limbs. 

You ignored his hurtful words, putting your arms under his head so you could assist in getting him to raise. He wasn’t light, that was for sure, but still, you tried until he was sitting up, although his head was hanging low and his back was arched forward in exhaustion.

“Come on, Arthur, I need you to help me.” Amidst your tries to keep him upright, you felt the all too familiar flood of tears threatening to flood from your eyes when the challenge felt impossible. You never felt so weak as you did right now, the possibility of helping him stay alive fading against the man's heaviness and your weary muscles. 

“Honey, go. You-” Arthur slurred out as he almost dropped. “You shouldn’t be here.” Yelling in frustration as he once again fell towards the muddy ground, you put your hand over your face as the dam of tears broke.

“I’m not leaving you here to die, Arthur!” Taking a deep breath, you bent down again to try once more. His eyes were barely open now, staring at you in pain. “Please, just try.”

A loud grunt left him as he raised again, hands gripping the soil underneath him, damning your stubbornness. Although weak, you managed to get him to stand, leaning most of his weight on you. It was hard, no doubt, to feel his body supporting your smaller one, but it worked, for now. The breaths leaving him were awful, and he gasped out loud as you stepped forward slowly. 

“This ain’t gonna work, honey,” Arthur mumbled, not a single hope left in his body to survive the long way to safety.

“Yes, it is.” You refused to listen to him, mind set straight on getting him to the horse. 

Far back in your mind, you remembered a place Arthur used to take you, always going on about a man he used to hunt with until your ears bled. He had told you of its location when the poor man had died, bringing you there once. That should be fine, you thought. Hopefully, it was empty. If not, you have another problem on your hands. 

The way back to the mare was challenging, with both of you falling countless times as the ground underneath you was uneven and riddled with stones. But your stubbornness wasn’t in vain because, after some time, you saw the familiar black coat of the horse appearing in front of you like an angel.

Not a single sound left him, eyes now almost closed as coughs left him then and again, both body and mind tired. He was taller than you, so he got on the horse much faster than you initially thought possible. Soon after, you swung your legs over the saddle in front of him, letting him lean his weight on you as you circled his arms around your waist so he wouldn’t fall off. 

“Stay awake, Arthur.” Glancing back when you didn’t get an answer, you only met a tuft of hair as his head fell on your shoulder. “Come on, I can’t do this without your help.” 

The road to the house you barely remembered was long, and you couldn’t ride too fast, worried about the grip on you that grew less by the minute. Thankfully, he had managed to stay awake the whole ride, but you felt his breathing grow more unstable and shallow. 

The weather on that mountain had been forgiving, like time and space had stopped moving in sorrow, the warm sun covering you in its blanket. Now, though, the howling wind surrounding you made your surroundings bitterly cold, arms held in front of you to see where you were going.

Many times, you tried to speak to make sure he was still with you, but your voice grew muted against the forceful wind, so you gave up, hoping his weight on you meant he held some sort of consciousness.

As time passed and darkness began to spread around you, a small house by a lake appeared behind many trees and foliage. It was different from what you remembered, but still, somehow the same, staring back at you like some sort of angel, the promise of comfort egging you forward.

Not a word was exchanged as you helped him down the horse, a solemn resignation making him follow your will without a complaint, or maybe he was too tired to complain; you weren’t sure.

Stumbling through the doorway, it felt just as cold as outside, shivers shooting through you. It felt strange just barging into a dead man's home, but you deemed your selfishness just, Arthur’s health at the forefront of your mind. Empty of life, it was, and it made you relax slightly, not having to worry about someone else taking refuge here.

Soon, you could rest your heavy arms; you thought as the bed in the right corner of the house appeared before you like a halo. With the door closing behind you with a slam, you waste no time pulling Arthur with you in clumsy steps, letting him lay down on the soft mattress with a huff, dust flying around you as the bed creaked audibly under his weight. 

Glancing at Arthur, his face was still contorted in pain as it had been since you found him. You carefully lifted his legs on the bed, removing the filthy, wet shoes from his feet and throwing them to the floor. Leaning over him, you touched his freezing cheek, finding him already passed out.

Hastily, you removed the wet clothes from his shivering body, laying them by the foot of the bed as you hurried to drape the sheets as well as some pelts you found over him to warm him up. Looking around, you tried to get your hands on some firewood to warm up the house, thankfully finding some not too long after your search. Your arms complained, though, from the weight already spent from the strenuous day–blisters on your fingers only worsen it. 

The room soon filled itself with an orange glow, bouncing in heavy shadow on the walls, and your whole body huddled close to the fire as you warmed your hands for a moment, not realizing amidst your frenzy that you, also, were almost freezing to death in the chilly night.

It only lasted for a moment, though, the reminder of Arthur making you rise on your tired feet, rummaging through the cupboards and various wardrobes to find some supplies. Luckily, it appeared that the veteran kept quite the supplies on him, which you thanked him for under your breath. Some bandages you were sure you could still use were pushed into your arms, a few tonics that could lessen the pain, and, best of all, coughing medicine. 

Walking back on the creaking floor, you dragged a side table closer to the bed and placed what you had found in your search, running outside quickly to get the water pouch hanging off the mare. 

It wasn’t easy tending to Arthur; the number of hits he had taken was noticeable. Some kicks to his ribs, it seemed, amidst the various other bruises that loitered his skin. Stopping in your tracks, you wondered who could have done this. You hadn’t thought about it until now; your worry for his safety has been on your mind this entire time.

Micha.

The sudden thought of him sullied your mood even further, making you realize that no Pinkerton would leave him at the brink of death like that. Undoubtedly, they would have finished him off or taken him with them, another way to get to Dutch, for sure. 

Cringing deeply at every purple bruise you dragged your finger over, hatred for the man laying his hand on Arthur grew. It was more fierce now than ever, the persistent name-calling and teasing he put him through when the disease started taking its toll not nearly as severe as this. You knew Micha was capable of this; deep down, you had known.

And where was everyone else, you wondered. Thinking logically, everyone had most likely run away the second things went downhill, but Dutch and Charles? Javier? Had they lost Arthur as they escaped from Beaver Hollow? And why did John not return with him if he had been alive?

The questions were running wild in your mind, but you had to put your questions aside for now; there was enough time later to wallow in contempt and confusion. Instead, you focused on cleaning the rest of Arthur’s bloodied face and bandaging the more gruesome gashes on his body. You knew getting him better wouldn’t be easy, but you weren’t ready to give up.

Sighing audibly, you put your head on your knees when you had done all you could and dragged the sheets over his shivering form. Gods, you were tired. It felt like your whole body had been running on spurts of adrenaline until now, and now that you got the chance to sit down, it rushed over you like a tidal wave. The whole ordeal, by any means, had felt like a fever dream.

No, more like a nightmare, you concluded. It was strange, and everything had happened hastily like the time had been fast-forwarded. Quite the difference from now, as the only thing audible was you and Arthur’s breathing and the slosh as the water hit the bridge just outside, time seeming to stand still in the tiny house by the lake.

It felt nice, though, you concluded as your eyes grew heavy. It was like the air around here cleared your sullied head slightly from all the months of stress and worry–gaining some distance even though it wasn’t by much. You could see why the man who had lived here chose to stay, finding the landscape calming yourself. 

Often, Arthur would tell you about the man. Hamish, you believed his name was. A veteran, he said as he stroked your hair, telling you about the days he spent with him, softly lulling you to sleep. You had always found their relationship endearing but were only met with a scoff from Arthur every time you voiced your thoughts about their camaraderie. The idea made you smile.

You turned your gaze toward him, gazing thoughtfully. The swelling on his face was severe but not yet rendering him unrecognizable. You admired him for a moment, the rugged masterpiece under the purple bruises that the harsh strokes of life had always weathered. Yet he had always seemed to have been carved with a pen so beautiful everything it created couldn’t be anything less. Every scar, like poetic verses, had always added to his allure.

In many moments, Arthur’s gaze had been a haven for you, a refuge where you could peer into his most profound thoughts when he kept himself away from you. It was a place where you could find solace amidst all the chaos, a silent dialogue–a gaze that showed what he never said. But now they were closed, and the thought left you sadder than anything.

–

You had tended to Arthur many times before, and even though the scrapes had been nasty, this was something entirely else. His disease only worsened the state of his injuries, taking you ten steps back every time you thought you could see a flicker of consciousness in the following days.

Yet, he remained motionless on the bed for days on forward, awful coughing episodes making him shoot straight up from the mattress. Succumbing to the relentless coughing, it echoed in the room with harsh, hacking sounds. Each one seems to wrack his body, the force evident in how his shoulders tense and his grip tightens on whatever’s within reach, the strain etched on Arthur’s face, lines deepening with each cough. 

Your hands reach his back to reassuringly rub the warm skin, feeling helpless. Unable to stand his pain any longer, you retrieve the cough medicine you put on the side table, the label on the glass bottle promising relief. 

Too out of it to register what you were doing, he only lays there as you pour the liquid down his throat, and as soon as his sore throat swallows the last drops, his eyes flicker close, body relaxing in resignation on the bed.

“You would hate me if you were awake right now.” A breathless laugh left you, hand stroking the hair away from his face as you pondered how long he would stay like this. It seemed that’s what filled your days and nights now, constant worry as you sat plastered by the side of the bed, holding his hand tight as you prayed for whoever would listen to give him back to you. 

Rarely did you take the time to open the various cans loitering the cabins, filled with canned food and other things that would fill your stomach well? Instead, you grew nauseous at the thought of it. You took the chance to spoon Arthur some soup, though, the small moments between sleep and wakefulness, hoping it was enough to give him some energy.

Some nights, when the pain was too much to bear, you would wound yourself around Arthur like a snake, being mindful of his injuries as you rested your head on his chest. You would listen to the slow thumping of his heart that had grown steady, slowly falling into a deep sleep, letting your heart rest, if even for a moment.

–

You were unsure how much time had passed in that house, endless days bleeding into each other. Most time was spent looking after Arthur, and when you weren’t, you were perched on the wooden steps of the house, gazing into the flickering water of the lake. Your bleak eyes always stared heedlessly at the scenery before you, and although beautiful, it did nothing to lighten the intricate knot growing in your chest.

Despite trying to keep your head straight, doubts always come to mind whenever you don’t have your hands full. What if you had been wrong all this time, and Arthur wouldn’t get better? The possibility was big, but you couldn’t imagine doing it any other way as you thought more of it. But all this chaos and energy you put into keeping the very soul of him alive, what if it wasn’t enough? What could you do that would be enough?

You walked down the porch steps with light steps, bending down on the bridge to wash your face, hoping it would ease your mind. While it didn’t, seeing your drained face and bleak eyes greying your features worsened it. You could only sigh as the sight of your exhaust reflected in the water.

“God.” You said, sitting back on your heels as you stared into the distance, horrified. No wonder you hadn’t taken the moment to care for yourself in the drastic days of apprehension, having been too wrapped up in the horrifying complications. With closed eyes, you rinsed your face, refusing to give yourself another lookover as you walked back towards the house.

The sight that you saw when entering through the door made your heart rise your throat. Blue eyes you adored so much were staring back at you, and although laden with fatigue, they were halfway open, gazing at you indescribably.

Quietness followed your surprise, and after a moment of contemplation, Arthur mumbled out under his breath. “Why'd you come back?” 

His question hung heavy in the air; the only answer you could provide him was a face of bewilderment, mouth dry like cotton. 

“I can’t-” As Arthur closed his eyes, a sluggish arm came to rest over his eyes. “-can’t save you now.”

You motioned to speak, but the words were lodged somewhere deep down where you couldn’t bring it up. Instead, you stepped closer to Arthur with small steps, like he wasn’t real. He couldn’t be; you hadn’t been given that hope for the longest time. But he was breathing before you now, moving. 

You were so quiet at this moment you even surprised yourself, but as you crawled your way beside Arthur and draped your arms around his neck as you had done so many times before, you found that the bridge holding your tears at bay had blocked the words so they couldn’t escape you. But the bridge overflowed, tears now running freely down your cheeks as the feeling of his arms finally circled your waist. 

He held you in that cranky, old bed for a long while, drowsy, sunken-in eyes closing in content regardless of his earlier concern, basking in the warmth your body provided his shivery one as his hands memorized you. The sunlight mirrored its way on your skin, the feeling now warm and tender, unlike the cold and empty touch it grazed with you before.

Arthur’s raspy voice pulled you closer in his embrace as he consoled you, tears wetting the skin on his neck as you gripped the strands of his hair tightly in your grasp.

“Hush, now.” He murmured out, voice so comforting it only increased your sobs.

"Breathe, sweetheart, breathe." Whimpering into his shoulder, you gasped for air between your snivels, breathing erratic that grew somewhat more stable as he ran his broad hand over the small of your back, hushing soothingly.

Things seemed to ease up from that day onward, and now that Arthur grew more conscious, you didn’t feel the draft of loneliness waft through you anymore. Still, he wasn’t up on his feet yet, heavily bedridden as the slightest movement could set off his coughing.

While his recovery gladened you something immensely, you could tell it put a heavy strain on his confidence; not used to being so weak and counterproductive. You could see how his eyes faltered when you tended to his wounds and how he avoided your gaze as you helped him eat, a deep confliction noticeable.

In these moments, he grew quieter than he usually was now. It was like he was waiting for something–something that was just out of his reach, putting a distance between you that wounded you deeply. You had to tell yourself many times to give him some time, to provide him with some peace of mind as he recovered from the trauma to both his body and soul.

So, you took the struggles daily, and as you stayed with him, you could see a glimmer of the Arthur you knew–the stubbornness, the humor, the fierce loyalty. But they are fleeting moments, overshadowed by the weight of his conviction that he is destined for a different path that doesn’t intertwine with the life you could offer.

“You know,” He told you one night, surprising you as you were plastered on the chair beside his bed, stroking the back of his hand while deep in thought. “I always felt at peace out here, like the air is different somehow.” He only got a hum as your eyes were locked on his fingers, intertwined with your smaller ones. 

“It’s something I always imagined for us.” He murmured, staring at the ceiling as he searched for the words to voice his thoughts rightly. “Well, when times grew hard, I thought about it quite a lot.” 

After some time, a small smile graced the corners of your lips, never having heard him be so open with you. You often voiced your wishes to run away together, towards something more fulfilling, something that would ultimately be safe. An ordinary life with Arthur was more than you could ever ask for, always opting to tell him about it late at night when he was too tired to react fully to your words.

It wasn’t possible; you both knew it, so it was only decided as wishful thinking. Also, Arthur always shot the idea down when you steered the conversation that way. He was too loyal to Dutch, finding your words unthinkable, constantly shaking them off as nonsense. Now, if it was because he felt that way or finding the thought hurting too much, you didn’t know. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You spoke quietly, meeting his warm gaze as he stared at you, lifting your hand to his chest, where he placed it against his heart. 

“Mmh. Well, every time I passed here, I thought about you.” He smiled slightly at you, continuing as a rumbling chuckle left him mid-sentence. “Hamish asked about you quite a lot, found you fascinating, he said.”

“Me?” You raised your eyebrows, half-endearingly for the thought that Arthur talked about you and half-suprised that you made an impression on the man. “How come?”

“He wondered why a woman like you stayed with someone like me. Said you were doin’ charity work or somethin’ like that.” You rolled your eyes slightly in jest, bringing his hand to your lips as you placed a nimble kiss on the coarse fingers.

“Well, I happen to like doing charity work,” you mumbled against the skin, breath warming the cold tip of his fingers, finding Arthur gazing at you indescribably.

But some days, he let the words that he pondered about day in and day out be heard, and those moments were the hardest for you.

“I don’t understand you.” He would mumble as his head finally began to clear. You told him that John, Abigail, and Jack had likely gone to safety. It made his mouth’s corners chirp slightly, content they got on alright. But as matters turned to you, he suddenly became cold, eyes crinkling when his eyebrows screwed together.

“You get the chance to go and live your life to the fullest, yet you go back to try and save a man that already died a long time ago.” It appeared impossible for him to wrap his head around the thought, looking at you as if you were a scientific experiment. 

“You’re not dying.” 

“YES, I AM!” You gasped slightly as his voice grew loud suddenly, yelling out the words as his hand pointed at you, eyes wide open where he lay glued to the bed. 

“And all I want before I die is to see you safe, and you can’t even give me that!” 

He had never yelled at you like this if he had even yelled at you at all. Arthur had always tended to take the image of the rugged, unforgiving brute, but never had he been that way with you. It was always tender touches, calculating glances, and a sense of utter contentment when you were around–acting like you would break if he didn’t keep calm and collected.

It differed from now, the usually calm sea of his eyes now a stormy whirlpool, harshness lining the edges, and it was pointed towards you. You pulled your hands against your chest nervously, wishing to shrink into the ground to avoid his, to you, unjust fury.

“Stop.” Your voice grew quiet as the air in the room seemed to lessen, eyes shooting towards the ground. 

Groaning, Arthur raised his arms, gasping when he had to support his weight on it. Stepping forward to help him, you were only faced with his palm begging you to stay away. 

“Of course, I couldn’t leave you,” you reply gently. “Besides, I had to know what happened to you.” 

“Stubborn woman, didn’t I tell you to go? It ain’t safe anymore.” You backed away, not wanting to listen.

“Now I don’t know where the hell Dutch is, where Micha is, which means this is far from over. That’s why I’m sayin’ you shouldn’t stay!” He tried to reason with you, make you realize that your part in this was over.

He felt conflicted. Whenever he thought of you, he struggled between being selfish and thinking of what was best for you and what he needed to do to keep you alive through all of this. On one side, he longed for every part of you to remain with him, but on the other side, he couldn’t stand you being hurt on his behalf more than you had already been. 

He knew he crushed you in the process, it was undeniable, the cries that left you when placed behind Sadie before telling enough–but it had to be done, despite how much he despised himself for putting you through this. You were always so calm and level-headed that he couldn’t be anything more than heartbroken when you called after him that day, the distress so unlike you.

Arthur didn’t like it, which fueled him to push you away even further when he realized you didn’t see reason, deciding that the only plan left was to show you what kind of man he was, or rather, what kind of a man he was to everyone else. 

“This isn’t you talking, Arthur.” 

“What do you mean it ain’t me talkin’?” His face grew red with strain as he spoke, alerting you as you bent down to meet his gaze, placing your hands on either side of his cheek. He scrunched his eyes together, heart pleading to give into you as your ever–so-gentle hands closed around him.

“You're sick, Arthur, and you’ve been beaten to a pulp. Now, I don’t know what transpired on that mountain, and I’m not sure finding out would do me any good, but I thought-'' Stopping in your tracks, you closed your eyes. “I thought you had died, Arthur. I, I cried for you, thinking I would never see you alive again.” 

“I ain’t less than a ghost now, darlin’; you should have left when you had the chance.” He stared tiredly into your eyes and then turned away from you. “You have to accept that. It’d gone much easier if you left me on that mountain.” His heart beat as he voiced the reality of his thoughts, knowing it would hurt you, but the statement was also true.

Silence followed for a long time after that, the turmoil inside you breaking, seeping like blood from the cracks of your heart as you were left staring at the side of his face. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Arthur, but it has never felt like I’ve known you entirely.” While he gazed at you, the fury still raced deep in the blue orbs, coloring them darker with pain. 

“You have a barricade around your heart that I can never breach. And I tried; believe me, I did. For the longest time, I tried to be there for you, be something for you to come home to, to ease your mind that always was off somewhere else, somewhere I could never follow!” Your tone that started quietly grew loud as you spoke, heart racing inside your chest as the words fell like liquid out of your mouth.

“I can’t-” Your voice hitched, angry tears falling unwillingly from your eyes. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in!”

“I don’t need your help!” You could see Arthur close off from you even more, pushing you away as the harshness of his voice cut you like a razor. “I never had!” His voice broke as he yelled, panting as he sat on the bed, hunching forward as frustration rose.

“Arthur!” You felt anger grow in your chest, finding him unbelievable as you swatted at his chest lightly, standing up to put some distance between you, seeing him trailing after you. “I’m done with you telling me to go when all I live for is you!” Fiery and consuming anger flared within you, setting your cheeks ablaze as you spun around to face him.

“Well, I’m over you being so stubborn all the time! Never listen to me when I only want to see you off safe, caring for me like it’s a glimpse of hope that I’ll survive!” A scoff of disbelief left you, staring at him as you almost laughed in shock.

“Me!? Stubborn!?” Your palm found your forehead, voice laced with anger-filled frustration. “That is very rich coming from Mister. I never listen to anyone other than myself!” You paused before you yelled. “Ever!”

“Because I know what’s best, alright!? And I know that you should be far, far away from me!” A fire started to show in his voice, but it also crept into your bones, warmth spreading on your cheeks. 

“Oh, and what?! Find some boring, middle-aged asshole who’ll tie me to the kitchen and make me have tea-party with some lifeless, dreary, pompous, old ladies?!” Your breathing was hectic as the words spilled out in a heated rush.

“Yes, that’s what I want, ‘cause that would mean you would be safe!” He stalked closer, cornering you at the door.

“I’d rather die, Arthur,” you said. “I’d rather die with you than face the long, bleak years of this world alone! You backed away, feeling suffocated when he didn’t give you any space to breathe.

“The only place I feel safe is with you, Arthur!” Your voice broke slightly, gripping his shirt to shake some sense into him. “It’s with you I’ve always felt at home!” Gripping his stubbled cheeks in your palms tightly, you pleaded with him as he gazed into your eyes. “I’m not leaving you; get that through your thick, dumb skull!”

“Stop being so goddamn unselfish and think about yourself for once!” He met your gaze, dark as he stared at you from underneath his brows. “Get out the hell out, leave!” 

You only stared at him, cold shivers like freezing water wrecking through you, backing towards the door as his shadow grew more prominent, stepping unbalanced on his feet towards you. Grabbing your shoulders in his broad hands, he stepped so close that all you could see were his eyes blaring into yours.

“Come on!” He yelled, shaking your body as if to shake some sense into your stubborn mind. “GO!”

Choking on your tears in distress, you were left gasping for air as you tried to breathe, feeling his body falter above yours. The coughs that now raked through him made you sink on the floor with him, and as the blood splattered on your dress, covering your chest in a deep red that contrasted the ivory fabric, you sat on the dirty floor, a man devoid of the will to live anymore laying in your trembling arms. 

After that, you only felt his lips that sought yours, entangling your limbs together like snakes in a snake pit–not a gentle surrender but a clash of hunger, a collision of lips borne from ages of holding back the reality.

Bloodied lips against bloodied lips met in a fierce urgency after taking a quick breath, fueled by the unspoken desires and the acknowledgment that, despite your disagreements, the love you kept for one another was deeply engrained in both of you, hearts unable to stand the hate you felt.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping as if seeking reassurance as the world blurred. Anger melted into a raw vulnerability, frustration giving way to the unspoken plea, and the desperation grew more considerable than it ever had–and as you both pulled away, breaths heavy and gazed locked, the air crackled around you as he instead hoisted you up in his arms so you could fall into each other’s embrace yet again.

Your tears now rubbed their way down Arthur’s cheeks, your breath hitching as sobs still found their way through you. His broad hands pulled you tighter against him, the inner fight that took place in his mind showing as he wanted to push you away, only to draw you closer to his dying limbs.

“You know I ain’t a good man, honey. That ain’t going to change, ever.” His gaze was gravely and serious as he stared into your eyes, an uncanny vulnerability etching them deep down. “This life lives within me; I can’t escape it. I can’t escape the sins that I carry. I’ve done horrible things, things you couldn’t even dream of.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “You know that.”

Your eyes softened as you saw the wrinkles in his face release, finally hearing something real coming from him. “You’re not your sins, Arthur. And even if you were, I’d carry them with you, lighten the burden.” Stroking his cheek with the tips of your fingers, he opened his forever lonely eyes, now staring into yours.

“God, I tried, honey. I tried to get you to leave, talkin’ to you in ways I’ve promised myself I never would–everything to get you to leave.” He pushed your head against his shoulder, resting his head on yours in defeat. “It was harder than I thought, see you cryin’ like that.” Sighing heavily, he continued. “But somehow, you always stay.”

“I’m not leaving.” You mumbled against his skin.

“There’s no mistaking that.” He chuckled, stroking your back. “Everything I do is to keep you safe; you’re so stubborn not to realize that.”

“I’m safe when I’m with you, Arthur.” He didn’t answer you for a while, holding you comfortingly. He felt the strings that held his will up loosen, giving up on trying to push you away, the sight of you sobbing tugging at his heart.

“I feel like all I do is make you cry lately.” Staring at your smaller arms that hugged him, the doubt that he still wasn’t good enough for you clouding his mind. 

“You make me cry when you push me away,” you admitted, your voice steadier now. “It hurts, Arthur.” He sighed, fingers still entangled in your hair, twisting your hair strands with his fingers.

“I know, honey,” he murmured, a concession to the unspoken ache.

“Then stop.” He lifted your head to make you look at him through wet eyes.

“Stop hurting me; I can’t handle it anymore.” He felt like you had shot him right in his chest as you begged him, staring through vulnerable eyes he rarely saw. He had done countless horrible acts in his life, but this was indeed to be pivoted as the worst, never having felt the pang of agony quite so brutal.

He couldn’t tell how long he would live now, down to his last breaths, but he didn’t have the power to keep you away from him any longer, not when you were so adamant about staying. Had you been angrier at him, he was sure you would take your things and leave him, but there was a part of you he so adoringly loved, a part that always seemed to care too much, love too hard. 

Somehow, he praised whoever made you that way because were you not, he would no longer have the light of his life in his arms, even if his time was running out. No longer would he be able to feel the graceful touch of your fingers on his skin and the sparkling in your eyes as you stared up at him in mischief, making him feel more alive than he had ever felt in his miserable life.

Hugging you closer to him, he captured your soft lips in his, feeling the ache only increase as he basked in the way you sighed, relieved. You felt the promise of not pushing you away anymore lingering in the corner of his mouth, dragging you closer to him as hope finally seemed in reach.

–

“And as the last light of day shone through the window, he realized how it felt like to hold the world in the palm of his hands, for her eyes were the window to everything he wishes for, and more.” Glancing mischievously into Arthur’s eyes through the pages, you conclude. “The end.”

Pushing the book’s pages close with a loud bang that echoed through the sunlit room dramatically, you presented him with a toothy smile.

“I never took our dear friend for being such a romantic, Arthur.” Raising from the bed, you spun around to face the man who seemed reluctant to let you go, bending down to stare into his eyes cheekily. “Are you sure you went hunting together? With all these books, maybe you spent your time cooped up here reading romance?” A giggle left you as you walked towards the stove, checking on the stew bubbling deliciously, the smell making your mouth water as it passed your nose when you opened the lid. 

Behind you, you could almost hear how Arthur’s eyes rolled back into his head, arms still outstretched towards you. “Sure,” he drawled, staring at you warmly as you teased him. “Our favorite pastime. How did you know?”

His sarcastic tone reached you as the warmth of the cooking burned your tongue slightly when you tried to get a taste, hissing as you dropped the spoon back into the pot. 

“You can’t fool me, Arthur; I know you’re a true romantic.” Pushing your finger against the sore part of your tongue, you turn to face him, resting against the counter. 

“It’s something I always imagined for us.” You mocked slightly, puffing out your chest as your voice grew into his familiar southern drawl, imitating your earlier talk with him some time ago.

Scoffing at you, he suddenly rose from the bed, the book falling from the floor as he stepped towards you. Perking up at his motion, you found yourself stuck as his arms encased around you, the warm scent of him mingling with the food as he stepped closer. 

Cowering slightly under his gaze, you giggled nervously as you leaned back. “Have you ever heard of personal space?” He didn’t answer you as you jested with him, palms finding each side of your face as his eyes observed you tenderly. 

God, he loved you like this. Ever since your fight, every obstacle that hindered you from growing closer to each other was breached. Every time you laughed, it filled his heart with warmth, finding the life he once fell in love with reaching you again as you settled; the hardest of times now passed.

He couldn’t help it as he pressed against you, sighing deeply as your lips found his in a loving caress, smoothing over one another as the sound of your slight humming broke through the silence. 

It felt like a blessing to have Arthur close again. Some time ago, you feared you had utterly lost him as he remained a shell of who he once was, shielding himself from you and everyone else. Although at ease now, the heavy shadow of his disease still lingered over you like a cloud, most times reminding you of the sad realization that all was not well.

Despite this, you could see how much better he was faring, now both up on his feet and with a sane mind–much more like the man you fell for. At times, the anxiety still clawed its way into your mind, wondering if all of this was too good too last. Although, since both you and Arthur realized that relying your thoughts and fears on one another was fatal if this was going to work, he always kissed your worries away, driving the somber mood gone with his hands.

“Where did you go?” The words rumbled quietly against your lips as your eyes lifted to gaze into his wondering ones, feeling him push your hair behind your ear. You gave him a small smile, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Secret.” You whispered when you felt him lean closer again, the tension growing in sparks around you. 

“Oh, I see. We keepin’ secrets now?” Raising his brows in fake mock, you felt his hands circle your waist so he could lift you around his torso. An innocent smile covered your lips as he hoisted you up, slightly pinching your waist so you let out a breathless laugh.

Stalking back towards the bed, you realized his only plan had been to bring you back all this time, giving Arthur a knowing look. “I am allowed to have some secrets, you know.”

“Are you now?” He smirked at you, kissing your nose before laying you on the soft bed, hovering above you. “I think I know a few ways to get you to speak.” Crawling up your thigh was a hand filled with sinful intent.

“Well, I won’t tell, you brute!!” You laughed as you squirmed against him, wishing his hand away as they traveled further.

“Oh, I’ll show you, brute, darlin´.”

All the wounds and hurt weren’t healed by any means, but as time passed, it started to mend the damage it created. The crumbs that once were so few grew larger and larger, now swapped out with a special love that you were sure was destined just for you and the man who always had it in the palm of his hands–only the need to accept himself in order to let it reach you. 

And while this story certainly isn’t over, the worry about Arthur’s health and the glimmer in his eyes he still kept for the life he had lived and would never escape still existed. You could tell he was aware you saw it, noticing him staring longingly into the wild, fingers flexing with anticipation.

But those were thoughts for darker days. For now, as you lay with Arthur’s arms wound around you and the sparkling of the fire cracking into the silence, you would bask in it for as long as you could. With the soup long forgotten—you realized you would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked you, even if it meant your death.

[hisunshiine]

—so break me off another night [4/7]

Part 4 of 7 of the Seven Days Series ↣ series masterlist

🗓️pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️au/genre: non-idol au, brother’s friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut 🗓️rating: M 🗓️wc: 3,596 + text messages 🗓️warnings: emotionally constipated pairing, reader is older, adult worries, growing older, dating younger, time passing and not hitting milestones everyone else is, biological clock ticking woes, angsty argument, feelings of being emotionally cheated on despite being single, parents with toxic viewpoints, self doubt, again Kim Seokjin as the antagonist, explicit sexual content: fingering, unprotected sex, only one person orgasms, dirty talk  🗓️an: thank you once again to my amazing team of betas for reading this for me. @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @peachiilovesot7 you guys rock. obviously we are getting towards the end of the week, but I am still working on the last two chapters, so idk if i can manage a surprise drop this week like last week, but i am aiming for consistency. thank you for reading, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @sizzlingfestpeach @mochminnie @jungkooksmytype @kookslastbutton @taebangtanbabe (if joining the taglist, please think about reblogging with tags/leaving feedback!)

“Yoongi, darling, please put your phone away at the table,” your mom says as she reaches out towards his other hand. You share a look with him at the gesture and pet name, and he coughs to cover the awkwardness as you turn back to your cutlery, pretending to be invested wholeheartedly in the meal before you. Your dad sits on your mom’s right side, across the table from Yoongi’s fiancé, Leah, nose buried in a book and missing out on the conversation.

“Sorry, Mom. Just helping one of the guys out with some girl troubles.” Yoongi pockets his phone and smiles over at his fiancé, who sits to the left of him. “Thankfully, I don’t have those issues anymore.”

You know Yoongi doesn’t mean anything by his statement other than to bask in the love he shares with Leah, but you internally cringe because you know your mother. Three, two, one…

“You might not, dear, but your older sister’s biological clock is ticking. Speaking of your friends, is that one doctor, Seokjin, still single?” 

“Uh, I’m not sure, but he works a lot, Mom. He doesn’t really have time right now to date and stuff.” Yoongi looks over at you where you sit at the edge of the table on his right side, his eyes apologetic at opening up this can of worms.

“Now, honey, she’ll find someone when she’s ready. No need to rush, right, princess?” Your dad comes to your rescue, seeing the tension you’re clearly showcasing—tight smile, eyebrows raised, fists clenching around the silverware.

“But I want grandchildren! Healthy grandchildren at that! She is getting to an age where risks of certain disorders increase, and if she waits too much longer, she might not be able to survive a pregnancy, let alone the child,” she huffs, pouting about the scenarios she’s spewing. 

Your mom has always had a complete lack of regard for others’ feelings; it’s just one of her selfish qualities that you’ve all been subjected to over the years. Not that her wanting you to get married and have kids so she can have grandchildren isn’t selfish already, but now to demand that they have absolutely nothing ‘wrong’ with them—despite that not always being something a woman can control when carrying a child—just puts the icing on the cake. 

You make sure to time your response for when she picks up her wine glass. “Yes, Mother. I will be sure to tell the semen that gets ejaculated into me that it better not have any disorders.” 

The sounds of her sputtering the wine back into the glass fills you with satisfaction. Leah, Yoongi, and your dad all laugh to some degree, though your dad also displays wide eyes at the blunt nature of your words. 

Your mom says your full name once she regains her composure, but you’re too busy placing another bite into your mouth, the morsel melting on your tongue as you hum with contentment. 

“Young lady, I am speaking to you!”

“Oh? I’m sorry, I thought I was old and withering away, all my chances of giving you crotch goblins to dote on basically fluttering out the window.” You nod at the large window behind her. 

“Very funny. Seriously, you’re a true comedian. I’m just the villain in your life, because me wanting to make sure that you don’t squander your life away alone and without love is a bad thing to want for my daughter.” Her fake tears are building; voice warbling as if she’s getting choked up at her manipulated selflessness being misconstrued.

“Oh, give it a rest, Mom!” You raise your voice, fed up with her attempts at gaslighting. Especially with the way things have been between you and Jungkook lately, you’re a little more sensitive to her needling at you than usual. The rest of the table falls silent, not used to you responding to her like this. 

“Honey,” your dad tries to cut in, but you’re already set on being honest. 

“No, Dad, don’t try to change the topic. She wants to talk about this, so we will.” You turn to face her head on, hoping that you won’t see Yoongi’s reaction when he finds out the truth between you and Jungkook. “I’ve been seeing someone for awhile now, and I didn’t want to tell you about it because you like to push and push and scare people away. I didn’t want to tell anyone about it until it felt like it could be serious. So stop trying to pair me with Seokjin, or Namjoon, or any of Yoongi’s other friends, because I’m already seeing one of them. Jeon Jungkook.”

The room falls dead silent. 

“Wait, you’re…no way! You’re the one he’s been seeing?!” Yoongi’s incredulous tone has you swiveling to look at him. “I thought you guys were just like…best friends,” he finishes lamely. 

“Yes…why, what do you know?” Your interest piques as varying emotions cross Yoongi’s face. 

“Nothing, just that he’s been seeing someone for several months, and—actually, this is weird. I’m not talking to my sister about my friend.”

You sigh out, annoyance in every huff at the way he just decided to end the conversation. Especially since this means your mom now gets the chance to speak. 

“Jeon Jungkook? Is he that nurse friend of yours, Yoongi?”

He nods at her question, deciding to talk to her instead of you, as if it would be a safer territory. “Yeah, he works at the same hospital as Seokjin and Namjoon.”

“That’s a respectable job.” Your mom seems to be plotting, wheels turning behind her eyes. “How old is he again? Does he have any assets of his own?”

“Uhh, he’s twenty-six. And I’m not sure, I’m not his financial advisor. But he’s a good guy—works hard, is loyal to his friends, or so I thought, before I knew he was seeing my sister behind my back.”

You roll your eyes at him, about to speak up, when Leah beats you to it. 

“Yoongi, please do not tell me that you’re one of those guys who thinks that father’s and brother’s own the women in their families and that your older sister making her own relationship decisions is somehow something that needs to be run by you? And that it’s okay for you to be associated with him, but not for your sister?”

“I—no, I don’t think that way, I’m just shocked that the two of them kept it secret for so long, that’s all. That’s all, I promise!” He repeats it when Leah continues to glare at him, as if she is contemplating whether or not to proceed with their wedding at the end of the week. 

Your mom tries to direct the conversation back to your love life. “He’s twenty-six? Oh, no, he’s way too young for you! You’re thirty-two, darling, he’s not going to be ready to settle down with you at this point in his life! Why, he’s probably just now starting to enjoy his single life. At that age, men want to sow their seeds, not plant them for the rest of their life.”

Blinking at her, you feel dumbfounded at her words. As if twenty-six is so different from thirty—the age your brother is right now. You realize that there’s no arguing with her, nothing you do will be good enough for her. It stings to know that even if you were to get married and give her grandchildren, that they probably wouldn’t meet her expectations either. 

“Listen,” Leah breaks in, voice soothing as she reads the room. “I think it’s smart that you and Jungkook are keeping things quiet until you’re ready. Less room for others to try and break you up, and allows you to grow into love with each other without outside influences and doubt. He may be twenty-six, but you’ll know better than all of us what he’s ready for. Ages don’t have set milestones.”  

“Well said, Leah, thank you. Yoongi, have I told you that you did well choosing your future wife?” Your dad attempts to break the tension, and it works for the most part. The five of you resume eating lunch, and once it’s over, you bid your parents farewell under the guise of needing to finish preparing for your brother’s joint bachelor/bachelorette party that you’re graciously hosting. 

Unsurprisingly, Yoongi follows your lead, an excuse of last-minute wedding preparations rolling easily off his tongue so that he, too, can make an escape with Leah in tow. The three of you walk down the front steps into the summer humidity, and you wait patiently at the door of your car for Yoongi to gather his thoughts into words. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for what I said back there. I’m just surprised to find out about you and Jungkook because he’s talked to us about you before. I didn’t know it was you, and now that I do, I kind of wish I still didn’t,” he jokes with a gummy smile, easily settling your nerves, “but mostly, I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, the only reason I didn’t tell you about Jungkook is because he’s your friend and I didn’t want to make it weird for you guys, especially if it wasn’t going to turn into anything. I still don’t know if it will, but Mom was pissing me off, and I just wanted to shut her up. It didn’t work, but, oh well.”

Yoongi looks at you with questions in his eyes. “Do you…you know, want you and Jungkook to turn into something?”

You ponder the question, blinking as you roll the thought across your mind. “I think—I…”

“Let me rephrase it. Maybe it will help you figure it out for yourself. How would you feel if Jungkook decided he did want more, and stopped whatever is going on with you to pursue it?”

Just hearing the thought that Jungkook would decide he wanted more and not deem you to be the person to pursue ‘more’ with…it brings a pang to your chest. Your face reveals it, and Yoongi just hums before asking another loaded question. 

“Would you be okay if Jungkook decided to bring someone with him to the wedding? Someone who isn’t you?”

This causes you to pause again. 

“What do you mean ‘if he brings someone with him to the wedding’? Like a date?” Your chest feels tighter, a string coiling itself inside of you making it hard to breathe. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything at first, lips hesitant to speak, but you must be looking at him as if you need something, anything, to be able to fill your lungs fully. 

“Look, I care about you both, so I’m not going to gossip or share anything that I’m told in confidence. That being said—if either of my questions made you feel some type of way, do something about it.”

Yoongi leaves you with those parting words, moving to the driver’s side of his car. Leah waves at you from the passenger seat, and you wave back as Yoongi reverses out of the driveway and disappears out of view. 

Your living room is freshly vacuumed, various board and card games stacked on your coffee table and bottles of liquor lining the kitchen counter. You load a case of beer into the fridge, waiting for Jungkook to show up with the food you ordered so you can set it out on the small dining room table.

A few decorations line the edges of the counter and dangle from the walls to celebrate the upcoming matrimony of your brother and his fiancé. You were able to change into a cute summer dress, possibly a little short but you were at home and could easily change if you needed, and just about everything was done. You check your phone again looking for a message from Jungkook, and it pops up when you unlock your phone. 

Slipping into your flats, you walk out your front door and watch as Jungkook’s car pulls up to the side of your street and parks. You walk the short distance to his vehicle and open the back passenger door to grab the tied plastic bags of hot food. 

Jungkook is still seated, the car’s music still playing despite being turned off. He’s grabbing his belongings, a black backpack, car keys, and cellphone, before grabbing the cardboard box from the passenger seat. 

“Thanks for grabbing this for me, Gguk. I was able to finish all the decorating and cleaning.”

You shut the door with your hip as Jungkook makes his way around the car, locking it with care as he balances the box in his hands. 

“Of course, it was on my way. Plus, we have thirty minutes to relax before people start showing up.”

Using your foot to open your front door wider, you allow Jungkook to enter first and then follow him in. Setting the hot food on a platter, you turn your oven on to warm so that everything stays fresh and ready to eat once the guests arrive. Jungkook sets the cake in your fridge above the case of beer, and you can hear him double check the front door is shut properly before he returns to join you in the living room.

You’re leaning over the far end of the couch, searching for your charger cord. “You know, I really should invest in one of those six-foot-long cords, this one is always disappearing.”

“You know, that dress is really short, babe.”

“Yeah, but I really like how it looks on me. If I start flashing people, let me know and I’ll put on some shorts or something.” You’ve almost got the charger in your grasp, satin-like cord slipping through your index and middle finger multiple times. The heat of Jungkook’s body pressing into you is both welcoming and pleasant, but one glance at the watch on your wrist and you know you don’t have a lot of time. “Jungkook!”

“C’mon, how am I supposed to resist this perfect ass when you’ve got it up in the air for me.” Jungkook leans back, replacing his body with his hands, firmly massaging your exposed cheeks. “I can be quick.”

“People will be here in like fifteen minutes, we don’t have enough time!” You move away from him, climbing off the couch and going to the kitchen counter. You’re sure you have another cord there that you can plug your phone into.

“What do you mean? That’s plenty of time for me to get you off.” Jungkook follows you, not giving you much space as you lean over the counter.

“And what about you?” you say as you turn to face him, finally having grasped a cord to plug your phone into, the connecting sound chiming off.

“What about me?” he says, leaning into you for a quick kiss. “I don’t have to cum right now, I know you’re good for it.” He ducks his head and kisses you again, this time pressing his body into you.

You return the kiss, and you don’t stop his hands as they travel up your thighs to get to your thong. He wastes no time in pulling it down, and once the waistband slackens he lets it fall the rest of the way to the floor, his fingers moving deftly to part your folds.

“Can’t believe you tried to act like you didn’t want me,” he mumbles against your lips about the way you’re already wet when his fingers make contact.

“‘Cause there isn’t a lot of time—”

He cuts you off with his mouth, kissing you hard until he feels you melt in his hold. You hear the rustling of his pants; the sound of the fabric and the distinct zip of his jeans as his free hand tackles his clothes. His fingers leave your core briefly, and you open your eyes as he pulls back from the kiss. Following his gaze, you take in the sight of his glistening fingers applying your slick essence to his shaft. 

“Turn around,” he orders, and you follow his instructions. You’re not prepped like he usually makes sure you are, but sometimes it’s fun this way, even feels good, the pain mixing with the pleasure as he splits you wide. You feel the head of his cock as it slips through your folds and then the pressure as he penetrates your opening, thick cock stretching you open.

“So tight, fuck,” Jungkook growls out, and he continues to push his hips into you until he bottoms out. You feel yourself clenching, walls contracting around the intrusion as you grow accustomed to his size. 

“Please, Ggukkie—move.”

Jungkook sighs with relief at your request, pulling out of you just to slam back in, fucking you hard into the counter. You grasp at the edges of the counter, searching for purchase as you slide along the cool countertop. He never lets up, only picking up speed as you leak more after he adds his fingers to the mix, index finger spelling something along your clit as he pounds you. 

Pressed up against the counter like this, you place your cheek flat to the surface, the cool temperature helping to calm your heated skin. Jungkook leans over you, and you welcome the closeness as he kisses at your neck, sucking lightly when you mewl at a sensitive spot.

“Fe-feels so good. Don’t stop.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, feeling the tightening coil building, and you’re so close now that he’s found the rhythm and is hitting your spot exactly how you like. “Kiss me.”

His lips find yours easily in the position, but the kiss is sloppy; Jungkook’s always liked it wet and messy. Likes you wet and messy. You’re close, and the sound of your doorbell ringing should make you freeze—should make you push Jungkook away from you so you can clean yourself up—but knowing someone is standing just outside your front door while Jungkook defiles you only a few steps away? 

“Fuck, babe, that’s it, cum all over my cock.”

Jungkook shivers as you stifle a moan, and as impatience rings your doorbell for a second time, he slips out of your warm core and pushes you towards your bedroom. 

“Coming!” Jungkook calls out, grabbing a paper towel to dry himself before tucking back into his pants. He sees your discarded panties at the last second and pockets them before opening the front door to let in one of his coworkers, Kim Namjoon. 

“Hey man, come on in!” he greets, holding the door open as the Fellowship Doctor steps through the entryway. “Just finishing the last touches, let me wash my hands real quick, I was in the kitchen.”

You appear just as Namjoon passes the counter to enter the living room, and Jungkook can’t help but notice all the ways he’s affected you. It just makes him want you more. He plans to have more of you later tonight, hence his backpack with a change of clothes for work in it. 

He can see you’ve fixed your hair, smoothed out your dress, but a small blossoming mark on your neck remains the only proof that he made you cum seconds before letting Namjoon into the room. The doorbell rings again, and you greet Leah and Yoongi graciously as you lead them into the main room. 

Jungkook eyes your legs, wondering if you had enough time and sense to put on a pair of undies—he’s hoping that you didn’t. 

As the room slowly fills with more guests, you and Jungkook orbit around each other, close enough to touch but avoiding contact for several reasons. His smirks and your desire-filled eyes speak loud enough for the both of you, though. 

Hours pass, and the group is buzzed and happy after a drinking card game. You find yourself sitting on Jungkook’s lap, as there isn’t enough sitting space for everyone to be comfortable. No one finds it weird though—you and Jungkook have been close since college and with the alcohol flowing, no one notices the too long touches or the way his hand sits high on your thigh as you joke with Seokjin and Hoseok. No one pays any attention when he finds out that you did not replace the underwear burning a hole in his pocket.

“Hyung, I finally have my outfit for Sunday,” Taehyung shares, calling across the living room to where Yoongi sits with Leah. 

“That’s good, I was worried you might show up naked.” 

Everyone laughs, and once it quiets down, Yoongi makes an announcement. 

“If any of you plan to bring a plus one, please let us know soon, so we can make sure our counts are right for Sunday.”

Murmurs go through the group, everyone confirming what they’ve already RSVP’d, but you stare at your brother. Your buzz disappears quickly as you wait for the man under you to agree that he’s not going with a plus one, but he shifts under you, not saying anything. 

“Can I let you know tomorrow?” 

Yoongi’s eyes move from you to Jungkook as he answers him.

“Yeah, that works. You deciding on bringing that girl you told us about?”

“Yeah, I’m sure SoHee’s waiting on a reply,” Seokjin chimes in. 

SoHee? As in school nurse SoHee? Your brother looks at you again as if to say ‘See? I told you so’.

“Shut up, Jin-Hyung. I only said I might invite her. I’ll text you tomorrow.” 

Everyone returns to their conversations, but a silence settles around your corner of the couch as both you and Jungkook read a little too much into what each other’s actions mean.

stay tuned for “i must be favored to know ya” coming 8-?-2023!

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[buggy-samaaa]

Caught, part 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

Word count: 380

Content: NSFW — mdni, gender neutral reader, no y/n, second person POV, voyeurism, anal, masturbation, misuse of devil’s fruit powers, man musk

Tag list: @hey-august

——

Not only was your face right in Buggy’s crotch, you also had the smell of milk and gravy permeating your nostrils from what had soaked into his pants. That and what could only be described as… musk. You placed your hands on either side of his legs to push yourself up with a gasp.

“God, that stinks,” you said, cringing. “You do wash your pants, right? Please tell me you wash your pants.”

Buggy’s mouth was agape, blushing furiously. “How are you so calm about this?!” he yelled after a moment of stammering. “You just went head-first into my junk and you’re asking me about laundry?!”

“What the hell am I supposed to say?”

“Nothing! You say nothing! You get up and you leave!” Buggy put his boot on your shoulder and pushed you away with a grunt. He kneeled and picked up what food he could off the floor while grumbling under his breath. When you, too, got on your knees and tried to help, he gave your hand a smack and glared at you. You glared back.

“Maybe you already know this, but walking in on you was an accident, okay?” you muttered.

“I said not to talk about it,” he whispered angrily. “In fact, just, never talk to me again. Don’t look at me, either. Captain’s orders.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not stupid, you’re stupid! Why would you come in, anyway?!”

“I thought you said not to talk about it!”

“Orders revoked, tell me why.”

You groaned out a sigh. “I thought you were hurt, okay? You were moaning like, like — a wounded animal! I was concerned!”

“Oh, yeah, right, like you’d care if I were hurt,” he said in a mocking tone, and he finished picking up the food on the ground, then got to his feet and stomped away.

You were dumbfounded for a moment, still kneeling on the ground. “The hell does that mean?!” you called after him, but it was too late. He was already out of sight.

Around the corner, Buggy paused and leaned against the wall, feeling like an idiot. There was no chance you’d be interested in him now. Maybe it was better this way. And, maybe, he wouldn’t think of you again.

Boy, was he wrong about that.

[shrekgogurt]

Ten Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tags! @artsyunderstudy @roomwithanopenfire @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @monbons @larkral I'm eating up reading your answers because we're all so DIFFERENT.

How many works do you have on AO3? 9 (technically 10 but we orphaned one of them out of shame)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 99,978 (mine) + 7,531 (shared) + 9,991 (someone else's) = 117, 500 (total)

What fandoms do you write for? presently, Carry On but back during my high school ff.net days I did some Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus (Percabeth and some separate OCs), Alex Rider (OCs), The 100 (as an elaborate prank), Harry Potter (literally just a My Immortal parody), and Divergent (OCs) and if they weren't oneshots they were never finished.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? YES! I'm currently behind on my replies, but it's so fun! It's like a book club but for stuff I created!!???? Shit rocks. I fully didn't expect anyone to read IKABIKAM (my first fic on ao3) when I first published it and so every comment still feels like a miracle.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! I love collaborating because it gives me something to bounce off of. A scene partner. A ticking timer. It's like lifting a heavy object by yourself versus getting someone else to bear some of the weight with you. It's easier. I also find myself constantly seeking collaboration with other people even with my solo fics. I'm all up in those DMs pestering people both as motivation and as external processing. And by GOD, do you fuckers have some good ideas. Y'all make me exponentially better.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? SnowBaz but also in a very real sense...Percabeth. (You never forget your first.)

What are your writing strengths? I got my start with rping, so dialogue is really comfortable for me. I also think my training in other art forms (dance, music, theatre, film, academia) positively influence my approach. When writing action, I often mentally frame it as 'blocking' the scene or 'choreographing' the movement. When crafting sentences, I'm constantly evaluating the rhythm and rhyme and repetition (not to mention alliteration) as if it's a song, always searching for the perfect word or metaphor. I also listen to actual songs and pull the emotion from them, using them as character studies or a musical soliloquy. I imagine shots and then write what I see from the perspective of a director explaining the actor’s motivating thoughts. I constantly revisit my thesis, grounding the narrative in callbacks and a cohesive structure like it's an academic paper. And all those things combined create this kinetic cause and effect style I'm really proud of and tangibly improves every time I write something new.

What are your writing weaknesses? I do not have a firm grasp on proper grammar. I'm also really slow and inconsistent with my output because my process is so physically disorganized and meticulous which often frustrates me. I'm also impatient. I don't do wholesale messy drafts; I edit as I go and when I'm done I want it published immediately. I also fall victim to the white room syndrome with physical descriptions. Establishing shots? Don't know them. What a guy looks like? What they're wearing? Sorry, I haven't told you because it felt weird to jam in there. Outside of fanfiction, I also struggle with creating something from nothing. I'm a theologian rather than a god. I much prefer playing in a sandbox and exegeting meaning from someone else's grunt work rather than conjuring the wood and the sand myself. My writing is also incredibly referential to pop culture which I'm not sure would translate outside of fanfic, but I guess I'll cross that bridge if I ever get to it.

First fandom you wrote for? Divergent (big cringe)

Now tagging! @onepintobean @cutestkilla @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @mooncello @brilla-brilla-estrellita @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @urban-sith @prettygoododds @valeffelees @ileadacharmedlife TELL ME HOW YOU WRITE YOU GENIUSES

[saintmagx]

I Knew you were Trouble ❤️‍🔥

In which y/n joins the WWE as a female competitor and is thrown into the crazy world of the Usos. Friendship, love , betrayal and mutual pining awaits.

AN: Literally making this for myself, might publish more of it, might not - enjoy I guess? 😳😂

in this reality, Trinity is still with WWE

Pairing: Jimmy uso x reader, Jey uso x reader (platonic)

w/c: 766

⚠️ Warnings: 18+ , swearing, violence (this is the WWE after all) slight smut, infidelity, jealous Jimmy, bad writing, cringe story telling, the Usos (because they are a warning in themselves) ⚠️

I was in your sights, you got me alone, you found me❤️‍🔥

“And the challenger, being accompanied by the Usos, from y/h/t, y/r/n”

I was on top of the world. My life couldn’t be much better. I had my boys walking me down to the ring to face off against Charlotte for the Woman’s championship. I had been busting my ass for the past 8 months and finally earned my shot at the title. Nothing could ruin this moment for me - right?

“What the - ”

THUD

Then there was darkness.

Ok, so we may be getting a little bit ahead of ourselves, let’s take it back to 8 months ago, when it was your first day on Smackdown.

8 months ago

I was finally getting my opportunity after years of busting my ass in the independent circuit. I guess you could say I had made a name for myself and the WWE just had to have me.

Tonight I was making my debut on Smackdown, I was teaming up with Naomi to face off against Carmella and Mandy Rose. Carmella and Mandy where the current Woman’s tag team champions and Naomi had been teaming with Natalya - however she had been injured and I was asked to step in. This match could make or break me - I HAD to impress.

Standing backstage doing my pre-match stretched I’m broken from my trance

“Hey girl, I’m honestly so excited to be partnering with you tonight”

“Trinity hey, honestly same - though I’m a little disappointed we have to lose the match.”

“Yeah it bummed me out abit too at first, but all we have to do is put on one hell of a show”

“Good luck tonight baby” my eyes switch from Trinity to the handsome as hell man who approached her. His smile was infections, enough to make me weak at the knees. Wait…..baby?

“Y/n, this is my husband Jon, Jon this is y/n”

As if time stopped, his attention was on me, I could feel his eyes bore into me, slowly dragging up my body, my cheeks HAD to be red, oh god please don’t let anyone notice. Jon smirked at me - safe to say he noticed.

“Pleasure to meet you y/n”

Before I could reply, another equally as handsome man joined his side.

“Josh, this is y/n, y/n this is Josh, Jon's brother” Trinity said as she was stretching out for our match.

“I’m the handsome brother” Josh says, with a wink

“You do remember we are twins right?” Jon retorts

“Obviously uce, but I’m still the better looking brother”

Josh stood there with a shit eating grin plastered on his face. He had ruffled his brothers feathers once more and he was proud of himself.

These boy are going to be trouble.

• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Our match was set up for us to lose, but we put on one hell of a show - main event material. Back at the gorilla Hunter were there to chat with me after my debut.

“Think of the bigger picture y/n” Hunter says

“You can’t always win. Remember when you go through that curtain you are telling a story, selling it with you matches and promos. Anyway, this sets it up perfectly for you guys to go for the titles”

“What?” I look up at him in disbelief

“The titles?”

“Y/n your hard work and determination shows off. The tag titles is a fantastic opportunity to kick start your time here.”

Not really sure what came over me but next thing I knew I had my arms wrapped around hunter squeezing him tight.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, thank you, thank you, thank you - I won’t let you down”

“You deserve it kid, now go show everyone what you are made of”

Leaving the gorilla my eyes glance to Trinity and the boys walking towards catering.

“TRIN DID YOU HEAR” I scream, jumping her from behind.

“HUNTER IS GIVING US THE TAG TITLES”

“What?”

A twinge of jealousy spreads across me as I watch Jon dip his head down and place a kiss on Trinity's forehead - wait, I shouldn’t even be feeling like this - I give myself a shake and turn my attention to Josh.

“We have to celebrate”

“Josh, we haven’t actually won the titles yet, let’s save the celebrations till then huh?” I laugh

“Wait that’s a great idea, let’s do drinks, come on y/n let’s go get ready” Trin says as she drags me off.

Guess we are celebrating tonight.

If I’d have know how the night would turn out, I’d have headed straight back to the hotel.

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 3 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

Part 2 is here.

AO3 link is here, darling.

Chapter Word Count: 2256

Act I, Chapter 3 - The Tension

Another day passed, and another evening of Astarion wandering off while the others ate their meal.

“Doesn’t he ever eat?” Karlach asked.

“Maybe he snacks throughout the day,” you commented idly. "He certainly doesn’t like my food," you muttered after.

“Then he doesn’t have good taste,” Wyll said, giving you a smile. “For what it’s worth, I think your food is absolutely delicious.”

You beamed. Gods, you had to admit to yourself that you were a whore for praise. It was what had kept you by your former employer’s side for longer than was healthy. You shook your head of the memories. Some things were better left in the past.

While the others finished up their meals, you went to prepare the tents.

As you finished Gale’s tent, you saw him coming up to you.

“Watching you work has been an absolute pleasure,” he said with a smile. “I’ve performed great magicks, manipulated the Weave into spells that could topple castles. But you? I’ve never felt a more welcoming and warm magic. It’s like a comforting blanket I could just wrap myself in and never leave.” He leaned a bit closer to you. “I’d love to learn some of those cantrips from you. If you don’t mind sharing your secrets.”

“Sure! I’m not sure how well I can teach you, but I’ll do my best.” You were quite giddy from the fact that a wizard was asking you, a mere hearth witch, to teach him something.

“Wonderful.” He reached out, perhaps to touch your arm, but you instinctively flinched away. Noticing your reaction, he let his hand fall. “Well, have a good night,” Gale said, giving you a friendly wave of his hand instead before turning in for the night.

You stayed still for a moment, turning over two things in your head: one, wondering if you were good enough to teach a wizard, and two, berating yourself for recoiling so obviously from a friendly touch. You had sleeves and gloves on, so there was no reason for you to have done that, yet habits instilled into you as a child were hard to change. Because of your ability to feel others’ emotions through skin contact, your mother had trained you to avoid touch in general as a safeguard. You could react appropriately with forewarning, and sometimes you even brushed someone’s hand or arm on purpose to get a read on them. But there were times when you were caught off guard. 

I thought I had gotten better at that.

With your mind churning, you turned around and saw Astarion walking back to camp, watching you with a smirk.

“What?” you asked as your path crossed his on your way to the next tent. You inwardly cringed at your tone. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.

“Nothing,” said with his usual smarm. “Unless you were looking for praise from me as well.”

For a moment, a singular, split-second of a moment, you let your craving for praise show on your face before you locked it down.

But you had already revealed too much.

“Though you’d need to impress me first,” he replied, breezily walking past you toward the campfire to join the others who were still awake.

Never mind, he deserved that tone. Damn noble.

Out of spite, you neglected to cast warmth on his tent. Let him freeze for one night, see how he feels about being condescending to you tomorrow.

***

“It was awfully cold last night,” Astarion commented in the morning.

The others looked at each other, then they all looked at you.

You immediately got up, unable to stand their curious stares. “I need to check the fishing nets,” you said quickly as you stalked away toward the water.

You could hear Karlach distantly. “I thought my tent was fine.” 

Once you reached the water’s edge, you knelt down and tugged at the nets, but your mind was elsewhere. Now that you were faced with the consequences of your actions, you regretted your petty revenge. Sure, you could have lied your ass off and gotten away with it. But since you had panicked and bailed without giving a good excuse, it was pretty clear what you did, or rather, didn’t do. What would everyone think of you now?

“You didn’t run very far, little hearth witch.”

Still in the middle of your existential crisis, you immediately stood and whirled around to see Astarion walking towards you.

“Now, I would have assumed you just forgot about poor me if you had just lied about it,” he said in a tone that clearly implied that he wouldn’t have believed a damn word out of your mouth. He stepped closer, and with the water at your back, you had nowhere to go. So you stood your ground and stared at him until he was practically toe to toe with you.

“Instead,” he continued, tipping his head, “you ran away, guilt written all over your face. Whatever could I have done to warrant being singled out like this?”

Seeing his smug face brought your previously squashed annoyance bubbling to the surface. You glared as you hissed, “You held a knife to my neck!”

“But I apologized for that, and I explained myself, didn’t I?” He tipped his head the other direction, looking like a kicked puppy. “I thought we were square.”

You bit your lip. Yeah, you knew he was faking it, but regardless, you did feel guilty. A moment of petty vengeance, not just against him, but against what he represented. The nobility.

It wasn’t fair to him. You knew it wasn't a fair thing, a night of discomfort in the cold for one snarky remark that you could have just ignored. You were better than that. And you knew not all nobles were bad. There were quite a few that were good, upstanding folks. One bad experience in the past should not have soured your outlook on an entire class of people.

You swallowed. Looked up at him. Remembered that he too had his own fears and shadows. Maybe he just had a bad day. You always prided yourself on being able to consider the situation of others before acting, and to have failed in doing so stung pretty damn hard. The guilt gnawed at you until tears began to well up in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. “That wasn’t fair, and… you didn’t deserve it.” Your voice had grown shaky with emotion. You hated that you sounded like a trembling kitten.

A self-satisfied grin spread on his face. “Well, I accept your apology.” 

When you continued to silently cry, he began to look uncomfortable. “I’m not mad,” he said as he looked over his shoulder, starting to look a little panicked. “It’s not a big deal. The others will think I’m a monster if they see you cry. So stop.”

You were crying more out of anger at yourself and not because of him, but you had to admit, you felt some schadenfreude from seeing him so anxious. “Say please,” you joked through your tears.

He sighed. “Fine. Please.” Then he leaned in a little closer. “Please,” he repeated, quieter, gentler.

You looked up at him, surprised by the change in his tone. “Alright,” you said, your voice still a little shaky.

Astarion smiled at you then, and your heart skipped a beat. Dammit, he sure knew how to use his attractiveness to his benefit. 

“Good girl,” he said before patting you on the head and walking away.

You touched your head where he had patted you. There had been a sense of satisfaction in his touch, but you weren’t sure if it was for you, or himself.

***

Late that night, you were awoken by the soft sounds of cloth moving around. You opened your eyes to quite the sight at the campfire, so you lay in your bedroll, feigning sleep so you could watch surreptitiously. 

It was quite the contrast to Astarion’s usual day time persona.

He was shirtless, sitting cross legged by the fire pit. His profile was lit by the slowly dying light of the campfire and the full moon, his brows furrowed in concentration as he slowly sewed together the damage on his undershirt. You could tell from the toned muscles on his bare torso that he wasn’t just eye candy. He could hold his own in a fight, and from the past couple of days, you got the idea from the others that he was a little extra gleeful when he got to stab someone.

He hissed when he pricked himself with the needle, his brow furrowing even more. He brought the shirt closer to his face, examining the tear from different directions. His movements seemed a bit slow, as if he was exhausted from the day’s activities.

Maybe if he ate my fucking food, he wouldn’t be so tired.

You shook your head of your ire and sighed. You couldn’t watch him do this any longer when you could easily fix this with your cantrip. Rolling out of your bedroll, you quietly crawled over to him.

He looked over at you and promptly looked away.

“What, come to mock my sewing skills?” he asked. His usual sass was only half-present, as if he was too drained to defend himself.

His defeated tone saddened you a bit. Looking closer, you noticed that there were mends all over, and the stitching appeared to be a bit haphazard. You reached for the shirt, only to have him suddenly yank it away.

“Don’t. Touch.”

You blinked. Then you looked at him, truly looked at him. He was frowning, his body almost curled defensively. He was holding onto his shirt like it was his only possession in the world. Under your gaze, his glare changed to a tired expression.

“What do you want,” he asked in a deadpan tone as he slumped a little.

“I just wanted to help,” you said sincerely. For all the attitude you had given him before, you didn’t hate him. It wasn’t his fault you disliked most nobles.

He tipped his head and considered your offer. Slowly he held out the shirt to you, his eyes staring into yours. “Can you fix this?” he asked in barely a whisper.

Taking it gently, you examined it in the dim light. It was hard to see, so instead you ran your hands over all of the material and realized that it wasn’t haphazard stitching. It was layers and layers of thread, as if he had carefully mended his clothes over and over again. He was a noble, wasn’t he? Couldn’t he just buy new clothes? Why would he go through the trouble of repairing something that was worn out to such an extent?

Your fingers carefully searched for what seemed to be the oldest mend. From old to new, you told yourself. Contrary to how this spell was taught, you had figured out that reversing the order would strengthen the repairs of the newer section by unraveling everything down to the core and rebuilding it anew. It was a slower, more meticulous process, but it made for a stronger repair. 

You focused closely on the fabric and began to hum. It was an old song, a song from your childhood. A song that made you think of sunlit evenings and aurora midnights that lasted but a moment, of moonlit days and months of snow. The cloth unraveled slowly, and then came back together, the old threads falling to the wayside and then woven back into the cloth as if they had always belonged there. The scars from the past make up the skin of today, so it must be incorporated back in, not discarded nor removed. At least, that was how your cantrip worked.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him leaning in closer, but you ignored him as you continued to work. It was critical to maintain the song, maintain the flow, otherwise you would have to start all over. And somehow, the importance of this was understood, since Astarion sat by quietly as you worked. You weren’t sure how long it took, but when you finished, the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, and your throat was dry from the constant use of your voice.

Finally, you looked up and blinked. Your vision was a little blurry, but you could see Astarion looking at the shirt with awe in his expression.

He seemed far away as you handed the shirt back to him. His hands ran over the places that you had worked extra hard on, where several patches and mends had occurred, overlapping each other.

“It’s… perfect. As if it were brand new,” he murmured.

You were insightful enough to know that this shirt meant much more to him than he let on. So you quietly stood and left him to his musings.

He suddenly grabbed your hand. You were surprised to feel a deep gratitude before he let go, his expression vacillating from something softer to awkward before settling on his habitual sneer. “I suppose you’ll be wanting some coin for your trouble,” he said, his usual snarky tone returning.

You shook your head. “I just wanted to help,” you repeated, and meant it. You decided to just begin your morning chores, but not before glancing back to see him touching his shirt with a reverence that made your heart clench in sympathy.

What would make a noble cling to a simple piece of clothing so earnestly?

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

End Notes: More cantrips, more singing. Hope y’all don’t mind, as it's going to be a theme here. I re-wrote that internal monologue that Hearth Witch is having in her head while she’s standing by the water so many times, so I hope the emotions came through. Next week, the chapter that most of you are probably looking forward to - let’s get close to Astarion. Really close.

[porcupine-girl]

Tumblr: Myth vs Fact

People have been talking a lot about Tumblr on Twitter lately (for no reason whatsoever), but that also means a lot of misinformation is going around. So if you're coming from Twitter, I would like to clear up a few misconceptions, starting with:

Myth: Tumblr is dead. It died with the Dec 2017 porn ban and now it's a ghost town.

Fact

Well, okay, yes, it did die with the Dec 2017 porn ban. Mostly. But it got better! On November 5, 2020, Destielpocalypse happened and Tumblr rose from the grave. Since then it hasn't been as busy as in, say, 2015, but it's gotten over its death and has had a steady stream of traffic ever since.

See the rest below the cut!

Myth: Tumblr is where all the drama and discourse starts.

Fact

Again, this hasn't been true in quite a while. When Tumblr died in 2017, most of the people responsible for the discourse moved to Twitter. Since then, it's been pretty chill, even after Destielpocalypse resurrected it. People like to say that Twitter is just Tumblr five years ago, and... it's pretty true right now, at least in the drama department. We'd appreciate it if you didn't try to change that.

Myth: Porn is allowed again on Tumblr!

Fact

Sadly, this is not true. However, nudity is allowed now. Just no visual depictions of explicit sex acts. Here is a pretty detailed explanation from the CEO of Automattic (the company that owns Tumblr) on why they can't bring porn back right now, even though he would like to.

Note that this only applies to visual depictions. Explicit text (yes, that means smutty fanfic) has always been allowed.

Myth: You should never add anything to a post you reblog.

Fact

Actually, one of the really cool things about Tumblr is how a post can grow and develop with every new addition! Simple Tumblr posts have turned into repositories of useful information or complex scifi world-building thanks to users collectively adding cool stuff with each reblog, or sometimes just asking relevant questions for others to answer in their reblogs.

But you don't have to add anything in order to reblog! Most people don't! And if you have something to say that doesn't really add to the post (like "Cute!") or is just for your followers, it can go in the tags.

Which brings us to a related myth:

Myth: There is a complicated system of etiquette around reblogging and tagging and if you don't follow it everyone will point and laugh.

Fact

Okay, there are some general etiquette guidelines that have developed that most people follow. Like the above, about only adding onto a post if you have something substantive to say and putting other comments in the tags. I'm sure you've seen rules like this around.

But these are flexible and nobody is going to hate you for violating them now and then. If you reblog something and forget and add "Cute!" to the post instead of in a tag, nobody is going to dogpile you. Worst case, people will click back to the reblog before yours and reblog it from there instead of reblogging yours. Or they might just reblog yours because tbh it doesn't really detract from the post. Just don't be rude, and remember that the OP and everyone who sees the post can see your tags very easily now.

The main thing is please do reblog stuff! That is the #1 way posts get new viewers (see below, most people turn the algorithm off). You don't have to add anything or even tag it; reblogging it is just a way to say "hey followers, look at this neat thing I found!"

Don't let the idea that you're not reblogging "correctly" prevent you from reblogging at all.

Myth: It's cringe to reblog old stuff, or to go through and reblog/like lots of things from someone's blog.

Fact

Posts are made for reblogging. We are all here for the reblogging. We want you to reblog. There are posts from 2012 or even older still making the rounds. If someone stumbles on my blog and reblogs a bunch of old stuff in a row, I'm just happy that they enjoyed my blog.

If OP doesn't want a post to be reblogged anymore, they now have the ability to turn reblogging off. Otherwise, reblog away.

Myth: Tumblr is the golden land of no algorithms!

Fact

Tumblr is the golden land of allowing you to avoid the algorithm if you so choose.

Most Tumblr users changed these settings years ago and have been living algorithm-free for so long they forget that when you first sign up, it does have an algorithm unless you turn it off.

Here is how to customize your viewing experience (on the app):

From your blog (the little people in the bottom right corner), hit the Settings wheel in the top right corner.

Go to General settings

Go to Dashboard preferences

The first four are all various algorithms. Best stuff first reorders your dash by algorithm - if you turn it off, it's all chronological all the time. 2-4 add extra stuff to your dash that the algorithm thinks you'll like. If you turn them off, you will ONLY see what's on the blogs you follow. (Note: if you turn off "Include followed tag posts" you can still view the tags you follow in the "Your Tags" tab at the top of your dash.)

4b - If you want to view mature stuff (nudes but also violence or anything drug/alcohol related) go to Content You See and turn it on. It's off by default. This is also where you can set tags or keywords you want hidden.

(These settings can all be found in similar places on desktop.)

Even after you do all this, if you really want to see what the algorithm has to say, just go to the For You tab. It will... probably convince you that you made the right choice in turning all of this off. Tumblr's algorithm really isn't that great, and we're fine with that.

Myth: Neil Gaiman is an active Tumblr user.

Fact

@neil-gaiman has no social media.

Myth: Supernatural is a television show that went off the air two years ago and is no longer relevant.

Fact

Welcome, you are now on the Supernatural website, where even if there wasn't a prequel series currently at this very moment airing, Supernatural will never die. Or will die and be resurrected repeatedly. It will probably creep into something on your dash eventually. Mute a few keywords if you don't want it, but brace for the occasional gif anyhow.