#anon you are so so kind and sweet and lovely

[deathbxnny]

Helloo!! Arcane is ending soon, so I was wondering if I could request the Arcane cast reacting to a reader who suspiciously seems to know everything that’s gonna happen in the plot? They always appear where the action is, and they warn about dangers before they happen, trying to ”subtly” change the outcomes of horrible events. Tragedies are a core element of the story, so I feel that the narrative would create another disaster if one event got prevented, but the thought of these characters being safe and happy after all they’ve been through would be so healing :3 It’s up to you which way you want to take it 🐁💖 I’m fine with both platonic and romantic, but I’d love to see Vi, Jinx and Caitlyn if that’s ok :)

I love love love your writing, reading your HC’s before bed has become an important part of my day and it’s always a joy to see your work pop up in the tags <3 Thank you for letting us read your creations 💖 I can’t wait to read the second part of your Caitlyn fic!!

The Timekeeper. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx x Gn!Reader

I absolutely LOVE this idea, Anon, and I appreciate your request so much!! Also, thank you for your kind words. It really means the world to me reading something so sweet!<33

Content: Angst, can be read as either platonic or romantic tbh, time traveling, fluff, bitter sweet, cursing, spoilers for season 2?, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

You were always a mysterious figure to them. One that appeared at the right time in the right place whenever they needed you the most.

You never revealed a thing about yourself. You never even told them your name. But one thing they did know was that you had always looked out for them, like a guardian angel in a way.

And on one fateful day, after another evaded tragedy, they finally caught up to you just before you could leave again.

》VI

"Who the hell are you?" She asked completely out of breath after having practically chased you down through the dense crowd of the undercity. She had seen you so many times before. So, so many times. And every time she did, you were somehow able to save her from certain death by subtly showing her the right way to survive.

It took her a while to piece together that you must've known the outcome of every situation she had ever been in beforehand. That was the only logical answer to the many questions around your existence she could come up with, but it wasn't enough to satiate her desperate curiosity. There were times she had chosen against your signs, and the consequences ended up being almost grave. So whoever you were, you must've had otherworldly knowledge about everything and everyone.

Because whilst she didn't know a thing about you, you certainly knew everything about her.

Raising your hooded head, you idly played with the pocket watch in your hand, piercing eyes meeting her own. "Does that matter?" You ask, and truthfully, it shouldn't. Who cared about your identity when she knew she could trust you? But that wasn't enough. "Yeah, it does to me. Now tell me who you are already. I... I've been seeing you everywhere for years now. You have always been there and I..." She trailed off, suddenly losing her confidence.

She had thought of this moment for years now, imagined exactly what she would say to you. And yet, ultimately, she found herself speechless in your presence that seemed to drown out everyone else around you two. "I see... but my apologies, we were not supposed to meet yet." You said calmly, seemingly undisturbed by her appearance. "Time and fate... they both are so tightly intertwined and yet also so far apart from each other... how odd that the timeline changed so suddenly again, no?" Your words made zero sense in her mind, but that just added to your mystery.

"What-" "-Are you happy with the way your life is going?" You ask, and that made the woman pause in thought. The answer was positive, of course, but only because you had a strong hand in it once she accepted your help. She thought of Powder back home, who was probably happily tinkering away with the young girl Isha they recently took in, and that made her finally nod. "Yes. All thanks to you." "Not at all. It was you who chose your fate. I only showed you the alternative paths."

You two stood there in silence for a moment before she shoved her hands into her pockets and looked over to a nearby bar she liked to frequent in-between missions. "Let's go grab a drink and talk. It's on me." Deciding to accept this new path the timelines had given you, you accept her invitation with a smile.

》JINX

"You're terrible at your job." "Am I? I like to pride myself in my good work ethic, actually." Jinx was idly swinging her gun back and forth on her index finger whilst she rested up in the ceiling above you, clearly having followed you around secretly. But she knew that you already knew that from the start.

Scoffing at your words, she jumped down and landed in front of your indifferent figure as she pointed the gun right at you. "Pah! You're a funny one... so what are you? A time traveler?" "Ah, I like the title Timekeeper more." You were aggravating but at the same time a familiar face she had grown to appreciate deeply. You were the reason she was doing well in life now, even if she ignored you for a very, very long time. She thought she knew better despite all the odds pointing against her, especially you. Ultimately, she learned her lesson when she finally just listened to you.

"Ugh... whatever. Can't ya at least tell me your name?" "No." "Man, you're such a pain in the butt!" "Likewise." Rolling her eyes, she lowered her gun and lazily leaned against a wall, arms crossed tightly as she observed the crowds passing by from outside the abandoned building you were in. An admittedly comfortable silence fell between you two, one that relaxed her shoulders and made her sigh in defeat after a while. Your presence was always so comforting.

"So, you let me catch up to you this time. Finally tired of the cat and mouse game we've been playing?" You lowered your head at her question, a sly smile on your face that made her narrow her eyes in interest. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just wanted to ask you how you're doing?" What an odd question, considering the context of your meet-up. And yet, it was somehow fitting coming from you specifically. Wasn't your whole mysterious mission revolving around her well-being anyway?

"Shouldn't you know the answer to that, oh so esteemed 'Timekeeper'?" You found no offense in the mockery of your title. Just pure amusement. "I'm afraid that mind reading was not in the initial job listing." Jinx took a moment to think about your question carefully then, deciding to indulge you despite her better judgment. Things were good now, after all. She, Isha, and Vi were together again as a family, including Vander, even if they had yet to find a way to turn him back properly. But everything was happy otherwise... because you made sure that the end to her story wouldn't be a painfully tragic one.

"... I'm fine. Everything's fine." She muttered, and your smile widened at that answer. "So... I'm not terrible at my job, after all?" Pressing a playful hand to her chin, Jinx acted as though she was in deep thought. "Hmmm... I guess I'll need more convincing than all of this to decide." "Of course... then how about we start with running away before the Enforcers show up to raid this place in approximately... 2 minutes?"

Jinx rolled her eyes again with a grin but agreed to follow you, very much glad to have learned her lesson at your side throughout the years.

》CAITLYN

She was ignorant towards your judgment from the start, especially as she was able to analyze very quickly that you weren't all you claimed you were. You were too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. It was clear that you already knew how her life story especially would come to an end. But that didn't mean that she'd always listen to you.

Caitlyn believed to know better, even going as far as to protest against your word, which she had learned to be fate itself. And sometimes she'd nearly get away with her life, and on others, you'd be the one to show up just in time to save her. It was embarrassing and at times even near humiliating, but you never judged her, just silently left every time she attempted to confront you.

And this time she had finally succeeded.

Now dressed in a formal uniform, she watched your still form stare out of a window in her estate, as though you weren't practically trespassing. But Caitlyn was used to that. "It's going to rain soon. I wonder if the construction workers will get done with the restoration on time today before the first drops fall." The navy haired woman came to stand next to you, ears finely tuned to your calming voice she had heard in her dreams and mind for so many years. It felt surreal to stand next to you at last.

"You already know the answer... but I think Mother will send out guards soon to retrieve them." Her mother, who had only narrowly escaped her death, if it wasn't for you. She had only gotten a little injured from falling debris, but that was all that happened. All of the councilors and people in the building had survived the Jinx attack. No grave injuries. All because you prevented it by throwing Jinx slightly off balance enough to make her shot not as precise.

"... Thank you." "For what?" The right answer would be absolutely everything, but she refrained, noting that you didn't seem keen on praise. You saw it as your job. As your duty to her for a reason unknown. "For saving my mother." That should do.

You nodded at her words in acknowledgment as your eyes spied Ambessa retreating with her troops in defeat. They were practicing chased away by the council since their help was unwelcome. Served them right for meddling with the business of other nations. You had exposed their ulterior motives in secret, and that's all it took for the tide to turn against them. "Just my duty." "I knew you'd say that... but I want to reward you for all you've done. If it wasn't for you... then I... I don't want to know what I would have become."

You glanced at her with an unreadable look in your eye, and that reconfirmed her suspicions regarding how deep she would have fallen otherwise. It's best not to think of it.

Humming to yourself in thought, you gave her a small smile. "Very well, if you insist... you can treat me to some fine tea and cookies." Caitlyn weakly mirrored your grin, relief filling her senses at you accepting her offer. She was worried you wouldn't. "Of course. Follow me." Linking your arms together carefully, you made your way through the dim halls.

A chuckle left your lips when it indeed began to rain.

[thegoogoomuckkk]

ahhhhhh!!! I have so many ideas!! First of all, I love your smaus, they're so fun and cute :) Second of all, I'd love to request just like a comfort smau; any idea you have, just the guys being all nice and sweet to the reader?

Anyway, love you, you're awesome!!!! 💖

comfort -> they're always here for you -> choso kamo, kento nanami, kiyotaka ijichi, satoru gojo, shiu kong, sukuna ryomen, takuma ino, toji fushiguro

this one is kind of a mixed bag. as a smau creator, there are so many prompts that I'd love to do, but so many other amazing creators have done them & the last thing I want to do is make it seem like I'm stealing other people's work. so I just compiled a couple different ideas in here, & I hope it's what you were looking for anon!

did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Second Chance - Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve tried to get you back, but it's not always easy to gain back the trust one loses.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warning: Angsts, like kind of a lot of it, injured character, but nobody dies. A bit of fluff with a happy ending.

Words: 9 224

AN: So, sweet anon asked about part two of Enough is Enough, and well, why the hell no :) I feel like shit (being sick isn't fun), so apologies x4 for any mistakes. My brain isn't braining...

Steve didn’t give up.

Steve’s first apology came in the form of flowers.

They arrived at the coffee shop just as you were opening. A delivery driver handed you the bouquet—a lush arrangement of white roses and baby’s breath, wrapped in soft tissue paper. For a moment, you just stared at them, the scent of fresh blossoms mingling with the familiar aroma of coffee beans. The card nestled within the bouquet bore only three words: I’m so sorry.

Your chest tightened. You didn’t have to wonder who sent them.

“Who’s the secret admirer?” your coworker teased, grinning as she wiped down the counter.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you set the bouquet aside, trying to push down the lump rising in your throat. It was a beautiful gesture—one you might have cherished once—but now it felt hollow.

The flowers kept coming. Every morning, a new arrangement would appear. Daisies, tulips, sunflowers. Each accompanied by a note in Steve’s handwriting: I miss you. I love you. Let me fix this.

You didn’t know how to feel. Part of you wanted to believe him, to give him the chance to make things right. But another part of you—the part still raw and aching—refused.

Then he started showing up.

The first time, you nearly dropped the coffee pot in your hand. He stood outside the shop, leaning against the lamppost with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He looked different—tired, almost haunted, as though the weight of your absence was something physical he carried with him.

You ignored him, focusing on your customers, but you could feel his presence like a shadow just beyond the glass. When you finally closed the shop, he was still there.

He said your name softly as you stepped outside, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t stop walking.

“Please,” he called after you, his tone desperate. “Just give me a chance to talk.”

You turned back, your jaw clenched. “Why now, Steve? Why couldn’t you talk to me when it mattered?”

His face crumpled, and for a brief moment, you felt a pang of guilt. But you shook it off and kept walking.

It didn’t deter him. Steve came back the next day, and the day after that, always waiting silently as you worked. It wasn’t until a week later that you finally confronted him.

“What do you want from me, Steve?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

His blue eyes searched yours, filled with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in months. “I want to make this right,” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you. I never stopped. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening with conflicting emotions. He looked so sincere, so heartbroken, that for a moment, you almost believed him. Almost.

“It’s too late,” you said finally, your voice barely audible. “You can’t fix this. I don’t trust you anymore.”

The pain in his eyes was like a physical blow, but you didn’t let it show. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, defeated.

But the truth was, you weren’t as strong as you seemed. Every step away from him felt like ripping a piece of yourself apart. By the time you got home, you were shaking, tears streaming down your face as you collapsed onto the couch.

You loved him. God, you still loved him. But love wasn’t enough anymore.

***

The days blurred together after that.

You went through the motions of your life—opening the coffee shop each morning, smiling at customers, making small talk with your coworkers—but it all felt mechanical, like a script you had memorized long ago. The warmth and joy that once fueled you were gone, replaced by an empty numbness you couldn’t seem to shake.

Nights were the worst.

Sleep eluded you, no matter how many hours you spent staring at the ceiling or tossing and turning under your blankets. The bed felt too big, too cold without him there. You hated yourself for missing him, for craving the comfort of his arms even after everything he’d done. But the longing wasn’t something you could control.

It wasn’t just the nights, though. Little things kept sneaking up on you, tearing at the fragile stitches holding you together.

The sight of his favorite mug on your kitchen counter. The book he’d borrowed but never finished, still sitting on your nightstand. The faint scent of his cologne that lingered on your favorite sweater, no matter how many times you washed it.

You tried to distract yourself, but nothing worked. Books, once your solace, couldn’t hold your attention. The words blurred together, and you’d find yourself reading the same sentence over and over without absorbing a single word.

Your friends noticed.

“You need to eat more,” one of them said during a group dinner you’d been forced to attend. She pushed a plate of pasta toward you, her brow furrowed with concern. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, picking at the food with a fork.

Kat wasn’t buying it. She leaned across the table, her sharp blue eyes cutting through your defenses. “You’re not fine. And we’re not going to pretend otherwise.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you had to blink back the sting of tears.

Steve’s friends noticed too. Sam popped into the coffee shop one morning, leaning casually against the counter as you took his order.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone laced with concern.

You forced a smile, trying to keep your voice light. “Busy days, you know how it is.”

He didn’t press you further, but the look he gave you lingered long after he left.

***

The worst was when Steve came back.

It was late in the evening, just before closing, when he walked into the shop. You froze behind the counter, your heart leaping into your throat at the sight of him.

He looked just as broken as you felt. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was mussed like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. He lingered near the entrance, as if unsure whether he was welcome.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice hesitant.

You gripped the edge of the counter, steadying yourself. “We’re about to close.”

“I know,” he said, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. “I just… I wanted to see you.”

You turned away, pretending to busy yourself with cleaning up. “You shouldn’t be here, Steve.”

“Please,” he said, stepping closer. “Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening painfully. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And because I can’t stand knowing I hurt you like this.”

His words cracked something inside you, but you couldn’t let him see it. “You need to leave,” you said firmly, refusing to meet his eyes.

For a moment, he hesitated, as if hoping you might change your mind. But when you didn’t, he nodded, his shoulders sagging with defeat.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

You watched him go, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the empty shop. And then you broke.

You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your grief crushed you.

You loved him. God, you still loved him.

But you didn’t know how to let yourself forgive him.

***

You didn’t expect to find Bucky Barnes on your doorstep.

It was a gray Saturday morning, and the porch floor creaked under your weight as you aimlessly swept away fallen leaves. When you opened the door and saw him standing there, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and his blue-gray eyes watching you carefully, you froze.

“Bucky?”

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual, though his expression betrayed a flicker of hesitation. “Mind if I come in?”

You hesitated. This was Steve’s best friend. Seeing him felt like reopening wounds that you’d been trying desperately to let heal. But there was no judgment in his gaze, no pressure—just concern. So, with a heavy sigh, you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

He stepped into the living room, glancing around like he was cataloging the space. You folded your arms, standing stiffly near the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, doll,” he teased, his lips quirking into a faint smirk.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice sharper now. “Why are you here?”

He sighed, the smirk fading. “I wanted to check on you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly. “I’m not with Steve anymore. There’s no obligation.”

He raised an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly as he leaned against the back of your couch. “Obligation? That’s not why I’m here, sweetheart. You’re my friend too. And whether or not you’re with Steve doesn’t change that.”

The softness in his tone made something crack inside you. You wanted to argue, to brush him off, but instead, you felt your defenses falter.

“Besides,” he continued with a wry grin, “someone’s gotta make sure you know not all men are idiots. Steve might be an amazing guy, but even amazing guys screw up sometimes.”

That last sentence hit you like a slap. You felt the tears coming before you could stop them, your vision blurring as all the emotions you’d been bottling up threatened to spill over. You turned away, trying to pull yourself together, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”

That was all it took for the dam to break.

“I don’t know how to stop loving him,” you blurted, your voice trembling as the words spilled out in a rush.

Bucky froze, his expression softening as he watched the tears stream down your face. You sank onto the couch, your shoulders shaking, and he followed, sitting beside you without a word.

“I hate him for what he did,” you continued, your voice cracking. “I hate that he made me feel like I didn’t matter, like I was just… there. And now? Now he’s trying to fix it, like I’m supposed to just forget everything and let him back in.”

Bucky listened silently, his hands clasped together as you poured your heart out.

“It feels like a slap in the face,” you said, your chest heaving with each breath. “Like he thinks flowers and apologies will erase months of feeling invisible. I hate him for that. But more than anything, I hate that I still love him.”

You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled as you added, “I don’t want to love him anymore. I want it to stop, Bucky. I want it all to stop.”

The room was quiet for a long moment. Then, Bucky sighed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Doll,” he said softly, “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but loving him isn’t something to hate yourself for. Steve… he’s a complicated guy. He doesn’t always get things right, but I promise you, he loves you. More than you know.”

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “If he loved me so much, why did he treat me like that? Why did he make me feel like I didn’t matter?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “You’re right. He screwed up. Big time. But… he’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for years. It doesn’t excuse how he hurt you, but I’ve seen him lately, and he’s a wreck without you.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, your tears blurring the intensity in his gaze.

“He’s not good at showing it,” Bucky continued, “but he’s an amazing guy. I’ve known him my whole life, and I’ve seen him at his best and his worst. And I know he’ll never stop trying to make this right. The question is… would you ever let him? What would it take for you to let him back in?”

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and unrelenting. You didn’t answer right away, your fingers gripping the hem of your shirt as you stared down at the floor.

“I don’t know,” you whispered finally. “I don’t know if I can. It’s like… every time I see him, I remember how much it hurt. And even if I wanted to try again, I don’t know if I’d ever trust him not to hurt me like that again.”

Bucky reached out, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he said gently. “But whatever you choose, just know this: you deserve to be happy, sweetheart. Whether that’s with Steve or without him.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any trace of pity or judgment, but there was none. Just quiet understanding and unwavering support.

When he finally stood to leave, he gave you a small smile. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his voice steady. “And no matter what happens, I’m here. Steve or no Steve.”

You watched him go, his words echoing in your mind long after the door closed.

And for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to wonder if maybe—just maybe—you could find a way forward.

***

The compound gym was almost empty, save for the quiet hum of machinery and the dull thud of fists meeting a punching bag. Steve Rogers stood at the far end of the room, his knuckles raw and his breathing ragged. He’d been at it for hours, his frustration and grief pouring into every swing, every strike. The bag swayed violently under the force of his hits, the chain creaking with each impact.

“You keep that up, and you’ll be patching the damn thing again,” Bucky’s voice rang out, casual and dry as ever, though the concern in it was unmistakable.

Steve paused mid-swing, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly as he turned to see his best friend leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. Bucky’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a softness Steve wasn’t sure he deserved.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, his voice hoarse from hours of exertion.

“Figured I’d find you here,” Bucky replied, stepping into the gym. “Thought maybe you’d stop using that bag like it owes you money and actually talk to me.”

Steve sighed, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Not in the mood, Buck.”

“Well, tough,” Bucky shot back, grabbing a folding chair and dragging it noisily across the floor. He plopped it down unceremoniously a few feet away from Steve, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Because I just came from seeing her.”

The color drained from Steve’s face. He froze, his fists still clenched at his sides. “You… you saw her?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said evenly, watching his friend’s reaction carefully. “She didn’t slam the door in my face, so I’d say I’m doing better than you.”

Steve flinched, the weight of Bucky’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He turned away, his hands gripping the edges of the punching bag as he tried to steady himself. “How… how is she?”

Bucky hesitated. He’d seen the raw pain in your eyes, the tears you tried to hide, and he knew Steve wasn’t ready for the truth. But lying wouldn’t help either.

“She’s a mess, Steve,” Bucky said softly. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Steve let out a shaky breath, his head hanging low. “I did this to her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I pushed her away, made her feel like she wasn’t enough. And now… now I don’t know how to fix it.”

Bucky stood, closing the distance between them. “Steve, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Steve turned, his eyes red and tired.

“She still loves you,” Bucky said firmly, his voice steady. “But she’s hurt, and she’s angry. And you can’t expect her to just forget all that because you’re showing up with flowers and apologies.”

“I know that,” Steve snapped, his voice breaking. “God, Buck, I know. But what else can I do? Every time I see her, it’s like she’s slipping further away, and I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You start by understanding that this isn’t about fixing things overnight. It’s about showing her that you’re willing to put in the work, no matter how long it takes. That you’re not just sorry—you’re ready to be better.”

Steve nodded, though the despair in his eyes didn’t fade. “She said she doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“Then earn it back,” Bucky said simply. “Show her that you’re not the same guy who hurt her. And for God’s sake, stop treating this like a battle you can win with brute force. You’re not fighting Hydra here, Steve. You’re fighting for her.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, his head dropping into his hands. “I don’t even know if she wants me to try.”

Bucky crouched slightly, meeting Steve’s gaze head-on. “I asked her,” he said quietly.

Steve’s head shot up, his blue eyes wide. “What? What did she say?”

“She doesn’t know,” Bucky admitted. “She’s scared, Steve. Scared that if she lets you back in, you’ll hurt her again. And honestly? I don’t blame her.”

The words hit Steve like a blow, but he didn’t argue. He knew Bucky was right.

“She told me something else too,” Bucky continued, his voice softer now. “She said she doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And it’s killing her.”

Steve’s breath caught, his chest tightening painfully. “She… she said that?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. She loves you, Steve. But love isn’t enough—not after what you put her through. You have to show her that you’re not just saying the right things. You have to be the right man for her. The man she fell in love with.”

Steve closed his eyes, his mind racing with memories of you—the way you used to laugh, the way you’d look at him like he was your whole world. He’d taken that for granted, and now he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get it back.

“What if I can’t?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What if I’ve already lost her?”

Bucky’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “You don’t get to give up, punk. Not on her, and not on yourself. You want her back? Then fight for her. And don’t stop until you’ve shown her that she’s worth everything.”

Steve swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. “How? How do I even start?”

Bucky gave him a small, knowing smile. “Start by listening. By showing up—not just for her, but for the life she wants. Show her that she’s not a convenience, Steve. She’s the center of it all.”

Steve nodded slowly, the weight of Bucky’s words sinking in. He didn’t know if it would be enough, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t give up on you. Not now. Not ever.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said quietly, his voice rough but sincere.

Bucky grinned, clapping him on the back. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a hell of a road ahead of you.”

Steve nodded, determination flickering in his tired eyes. He didn’t know how long it would take or if he’d even succeed, but for you, he’d move mountains.

Because losing you wasn’t an option. And he’d spend the rest of his life proving it if that’s what it took.

***

Steve left the gym after his conversation with Bucky feeling drained but determined. His best friend’s words weighed on him, both a reminder of the man he wanted to be and the man he hadn’t been for you. He knew Bucky was right—this wasn’t a fight he could win with brute force or a quick apology. It would take time, patience, and a quiet kind of devotion that he’d never had to show before.

He didn’t expect you to forgive him overnight. He didn’t even expect you to notice what he was doing right away. But he had to start somewhere.

***

It was early morning when Steve pushed open the door to your coffee shop.

The familiar bell jingled above him, the sound stirring memories of quieter, happier times. You were behind the counter, moving with practiced ease as you worked the espresso machine. You didn’t see him at first, but when you turned, your eyes locked, and Steve felt the air shift.

“Morning,” he said, his voice soft, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace of the moment.

You blinked, your expression guarded. “Morning.”

“I’m here for coffee,” he said, stepping forward. “For the team.”

Your brow furrowed, skeptical. “The team sent you?”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Not exactly. Thought I’d take my turn.”

You didn’t reply, but you turned back to the espresso machine, the hum of it filling the silence. Steve watched you work, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, and for a moment, he was struck by how natural this scene felt, even with the tension between you.

When you handed him the tray of drinks, your fingers brushed his briefly, and he saw the faintest flicker of something in your eyes—surprise, maybe, or something softer.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice warm but careful.

You didn’t answer, but you nodded, and he left without lingering, the bell jingling softly as the door swung shut behind him.

*

The next time he came, it was quieter. Midmorning, after the breakfast rush had died down, Steve appeared with a small brown paper bag in hand.

You were cleaning the counter, lost in thought, when his voice broke through the silence.

“You forget to eat when you’re busy,” he said simply, placing the bag on the counter.

You looked up, startled. “Steve…”

“It’s just breakfast,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall your protests. “Nothing more. Just thought you might need it.”

You hesitated, the words you wanted to say caught somewhere in your throat. Slowly, you opened the bag, the warm scent of eggs and bacon wafting up to meet you.

“From that diner you like,” he added, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Figured it was better than you skipping meals.”

You stared at the bag for a long moment before meeting his eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But I wanted to.”

He didn’t stay long, didn’t push for conversation. He just gave you a small nod and left, leaving you with breakfast and a strange, lingering warmth in your chest.

*

Natasha was relentless when it came to her movie nights, and somehow, you found yourself at the Tower despite your protests. The room was cozy, filled with the low murmur of conversation and the scent of popcorn. You settled into one corner of the couch, trying to ignore the way Steve’s presence tugged at the edges of your awareness.

When the opening credits began to roll, Steve appeared beside you, holding something in his hands.

“Here,” he said quietly, offering you a pair of thick woolen socks.

You frowned, confused. “What’s this?”

“Your feet get cold,” he said simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, your chest tightening, before reluctantly taking the socks. “Thanks,” you muttered, slipping them on.

He didn’t linger, didn’t push for more. But later, when the movie reached its tense climax, he handed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate—rich, creamy, with just the right amount of cinnamon.

“You don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a small, knowing smile.

“You love hot chocolate after horror movies,” he said, his tone soft. “Figured you might want some.”

You took the mug, the warmth seeping into your hands, and for the first time that night, you let yourself relax.

*

The envelope was waiting for you in your mailbox, unassuming but carefully placed. Inside was a single ticket to the sold-out Broadway show you’d mentioned to Sam weeks ago.

The note tucked inside was brief, written in Steve’s familiar handwriting: Thought you’d like this. Hope it’s as good as you imagined.

You stared at the ticket for a long time, your heart aching with a mixture of gratitude and frustration. He remembered. Of course, he remembered.

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it was just a kind gesture, but deep down, it chipped away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

*

The night your car broke down was cold and quiet, the kind of night that made the world feel vast and lonely. You sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the lifeless dashboard, your breath fogging up the glass as you fought the urge to cry.

You tried calling a few friends, but no one answered. Finally, with trembling fingers, you dialed the one number you swore you wouldn’t.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice came through the line, steady and concerned.

“My car won’t start,” you said softly, ignoring the pet name, hating how small your voice sounded.

“Where are you?”

You told him, and he didn’t hesitate. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

When his truck pulled up beside you, he climbed out without a word, his breath misting in the cold air as he checked under your hood. His movements were sure and efficient, his presence steadying.

“Alternator’s shot,” he said finally, closing the hood. “I’ll take you home.”

You hesitated, your pride warring with your gratitude, but the freezing air made the decision for you.

The drive was quiet, the heater humming softly as Steve navigated the empty streets. He didn’t pry, didn’t try to fill the silence with unnecessary words. He just… drove.

When you woke up the next morning, your car was back in its usual spot. The engine purred like new when you started it, and a small note was taped to the dashboard: Shouldn’t give you trouble anymore. Call me if it does.

*

Each gesture was small, unassuming. Steve never pushed, never demanded more than you were willing to give. He just… showed up, quietly and consistently, letting his actions speak louder than words ever could.

And slowly, despite yourself, you began to notice.

***

Three months had passed since the breakup.

You wouldn’t say things had gone back to normal—far from it—but something had undeniably shifted between you and Steve. His quiet persistence, the way he showed up without pushing or demanding anything from you, had started to chip away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

At first, your conversations were stiff and polite, nothing more than a few sentences exchanged when he stopped by the coffee shop or brought you breakfast. But as the weeks went by, those moments grew longer, softer. He’d ask about your day, about the books you were reading, or the things you enjoyed, and you found yourself answering more openly. It wasn’t quite like before, but it was closer to the first moments of your relationship, back when everything had been new and uncomplicated.

Still, there was a voice in the back of your mind that wouldn’t let you forget. A quiet, insistent whisper that reminded you of how he’d hurt you, how he’d pushed you aside and made you feel invisible.

That voice grew louder the day he asked you to talk.

***

It was late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the windows of the coffee shop as you wiped down the counter. The shop was quiet, the usual morning and lunch rushes long gone, leaving you with only the hum of the espresso machine and the soft clatter of dishes.

The sound of the bell above the door caught your attention, and when you looked up, Steve was there.

He’d been coming in more often lately, not just to pick up coffee for the team but to see you, to talk to you. This time, though, something about the way he stood—his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched—told you this wasn’t just a casual visit.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice careful as he approached the counter.

“Hey,” you replied, setting the towel aside.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked, glancing around at the empty shop. “I mean… can we talk?”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting. The vulnerability in his expression was disarming, but that voice in the back of your mind warned you to tread carefully. Still, you nodded, gesturing toward one of the empty tables.

Steve followed you, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from you. For a moment, he said nothing, his hands clasped tightly on the table as he stared down at them. You waited, your heart thudding quietly in your chest as the silence stretched between you.

Finally, he took a deep breath and looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About what I should say. How I should say it. And the truth is… there’s no easy way to do this. So I’m just going to be honest.”

You nodded, your throat tightening as you braced yourself for whatever was coming.

“I screwed up,” he said, the words heavy with regret. “I let you down in a way I never should have. And I’ve been trying to figure out why—why I acted the way I did, why I pushed you away when you were the best thing in my life.”

His hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to find the right words. “I think… I think I was scared. Scared of not being enough for you, scared of dragging you into everything that comes with being me. The missions, the stress, the weight of it all—I didn’t want to burden you with that.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion and frustration bubbling to the surface. “So you decided to ignore me instead? To shut me out?”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice breaking slightly. “I know it doesn’t make sense. It was selfish and stupid, and I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel. I just… I thought if I kept it to myself, if I didn’t tell you about everything that was going on, I could protect you from it. But all I did was hurt you.”

His eyes glistened, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. For making you feel like you weren’t enough when you were everything to me.”

The raw emotion in his voice made your chest ache, but the wounds he’d left were still fresh, still tender.

“Steve…” you began, your voice trembling, “you hurt me more than anyone ever has. Do you know that?”

He flinched, his jaw tightening, but he nodded.

“I spent weeks wondering what I did wrong,” you continued, your words spilling out in a rush. “I kept asking myself why I wasn’t good enough for you, why I wasn’t worth your time or your attention. And then, when you finally started trying again, it felt like a slap in the face. Like you thought a few kind gestures could erase everything you put me through.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you fought to keep your voice steady. “I wanted so badly to be enough for you, Steve. That’s all I ever wanted. Just to be enough.”

“You were,” he said quickly, his voice cracking. “You are. God, you’re more than enough. I was the one who wasn’t. I didn’t know how to handle it—how to be the man you deserved—and I let that fear control me. But I swear to you, I see it now. I see what I lost because of it.”

He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I know I don’t deserve another chance. I know I might have ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. But if there’s anything—anything—I can do to change your mind, tell me. I’ll do it. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can be better, that I can be the man you need me to be.”

His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper. “I just need to know if there’s any part of you that still believes in us.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding as the weight of his words settled over you. The pain, the anger, the love—all of it swirled together in a storm of emotion that left you speechless.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your voice trembling as you said, “I don’t know, Steve. I don’t know if I can trust you again. I don’t know if I can forget how much it hurt.”

His face crumpled, but he nodded, accepting your words without argument.

“But…” you continued, your voice softer now, “I can’t pretend I don’t still feel something for you. I can’t pretend I don’t still love you.”

His eyes widened, hope flickering in their depths.

“That doesn’t mean we can go back to how things were,” you said quickly, your tone firm. “If we’re going to try… if we’re going to even think about trying, it has to be different. You have to be honest with me, Steve. About everything.”

“I will,” he said immediately, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear, I will.”

You nodded, your throat tight with the weight of what you’d just said. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was something. A small step toward rebuilding what had been broken.

And as Steve reached out, his hand brushing against yours, you let yourself hope—for the first time in months—that maybe, just maybe, it was a step worth taking.

***

It had been a week since the conversation with Steve, and your emotions were in turmoil. You felt caught between the raw pain of the past and the cautious hope of what could be. His words haunted you—his apologies, his promises, the way his voice had cracked when he told you how much he still cared.

You needed clarity, and there was only one person who could give you the no-nonsense advice you desperately needed: Natasha.

She arrived at your place that evening, a takeout bag in hand, and didn’t waste a second settling herself at your kitchen table. Her sharp green eyes studied you as you sat down across from her, picking at the noodles she’d brought for you.

“All right,” she said, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Steve,” you admitted, your voice soft.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “What about him?”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the table. “We talked. Really talked. He told me everything—why he shut me out, how he felt, all of it. He apologized for everything and… I believe him, Nat. I really do.”

“But?” she prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“But I don’t know if I can trust him again,” you confessed, your throat tightening. “I don’t know if I can let myself go through that again. He hurt me so much, Nat. How do I just move past that?”

Natasha studied you for a moment, her gaze piercing. “Let me ask you something,” she said finally. “If you didn’t still love him, if you didn’t still want something with him deep down, would we even be having this conversation right now?”

You frowned, her words hitting you hard. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been three months,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “If you were done with him, if you really didn’t care anymore, you’d have moved on by now. You wouldn’t still be here, agonizing over whether to give him another chance.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came. She wasn’t wrong, and deep down, you knew it.

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him tomorrow or even next week,” Natasha continued, leaning forward. “But if there’s still a part of you that wants to believe in him, don’t ignore that. You owe it to yourself to figure out what you really want. Not what you’re afraid of, not what you think you should do. What you want.”

Her words lingered long after she left, a quiet truth that refused to be ignored.

***

At the same time, Steve was grappling with his own uncertainty.

He sat in the Tower’s lounge, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as he stared out the window. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your conversation, about the raw pain in your voice when you told him how much he’d hurt you.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Steve turned to see both Sam and Bucky entering the room. They exchanged a look before sitting down on either side of him.

“You’ve been brooding,” Sam said bluntly. “What’s going on?”

Steve sighed, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “It’s her,” he admitted.

“Figured,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair. “What happened?”

“I talked to her,” Steve said. “Told her everything—how I felt, why I shut her out. I apologized for all of it.”

“And?” Sam prompted.

“She said she doesn’t know if she can trust me again,” Steve said quietly, his voice heavy with regret. “But she also said she still loves me. I don’t know what to do with that, Sam. I don’t know how to make it right.”

Sam leaned forward, his expression serious. “Look, man, love isn’t always enough. Not when there’s hurt involved. If she doesn’t trust you right now, that’s on you to fix. You can’t just expect her to forgive and forget because you feel bad about it.”

“I know that,” Steve said quickly, his jaw tightening. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to mess this up again. I need to figure out how to show her that I’m serious without overwhelming her.”

Bucky gave him a long, measured look. “You’ve been trying,” he said finally. “We’ve all seen it—the little things you’ve been doing. But if you’re asking me, you’re not going to fix this by tiptoeing around her. You’ve got to be honest, Rogers. If you want her back, you need to let her see all of you. The good, the bad, and the stuff you think she won’t want to deal with.”

Steve frowned, his gaze dropping to the floor. “What if she doesn’t want to deal with it?”

“Then she doesn’t,” Bucky said simply. “But if you hold back, you’re not giving her the chance to decide for herself. And that’s not fair to either of you.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “You’ve got to let her see that you’re not just saying the right things, Steve. You’ve got to show her. But don’t make it about fixing things fast. Healing takes time, for both of you.”

Steve exhaled slowly, the weight of their words settling over him. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Sam said with a grin. “You’ve got a long road ahead of you, Cap.”

***

Steve spent the next few days thinking about their advice. He’d been so focused on not pushing you, on giving you space, that he hadn’t realized he might be holding back too much.

When he saw you next, it was at the coffee shop, just as you were closing up for the day. He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, his heart pounding.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the quiet.

You looked up, surprise flickering across your face. “Hey.”

“Do you have a minute?” he asked.

You nodded slowly, setting down the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. “Sure.”

He gestured toward one of the empty tables, and you followed him, sitting down across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Steve began, his voice steady but low. “About how much I hurt you, how I made you feel like you weren’t enough. And you were right. I let you down in ways I’ll never forgive myself for.”

Your throat tightened, but you stayed silent, letting him continue.

“I’ve spent so much time trying to fix things in small ways, trying to show you that I’m serious,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ve been honest enough with you. I don’t think I’ve let you see how much this has been tearing me apart.”

His hands tightened into fists on the table, his knuckles white. “I don’t want to overwhelm you or push you, but I can’t hold this back anymore. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw tears in his eyes. “If there’s anything—anything—I can do to earn your trust again, tell me. Because losing you would be the biggest mistake of my life.”

Your own eyes burned with tears, the raw honesty in his words cutting through the walls you’d built around your heart. For the first time, you saw not just the man who’d hurt you but the man who was willing to fight for you, flaws and all.

You didn’t have an answer for him—not yet. But as you reached across the table and took his hand, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were ready to start finding one.

***

You were closing up the coffee shop when your phone buzzed. The message was from Natasha. That alone was unusual—Nat rarely texted without reason. You pulled your phone out, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb.

The words on the screen made your blood run cold: We’ve lost contact with Steve and Bucky.

Your breath caught, and the phone nearly slipped from your trembling hands. For a moment, everything around you blurred—the soft hum of the espresso machine, the faint chatter of pedestrians outside, the smell of coffee beans—all of it faded into the background.

You didn’t think, didn’t even register dropping the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. Your hands shook as you locked the doors, fumbling with the keys before rushing to your car.

The drive to the Tower was a haze, your chest tight with panic as Natasha’s words repeated in your mind. You knew Steve went on dangerous missions. It was part of who he was. But something about those words—lost contact—made this time feel different.

***

By the time you arrived at the Tower, your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might break through your ribcage. The elevator ride felt like an eternity, each floor passing with agonizing slowness. When the doors finally slid open, you practically ran into the common room, where Natasha and Sam were already waiting.

“What happened?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

Natasha turned toward you, her expression calm but her eyes betraying her concern. “They were on a mission. Everything was going according to plan, but then we lost contact about three hours ago. We’ve been trying to re-establish communication, but there’s been no response.”

Three hours. That might as well have been three days.

“What do you mean ‘lost contact’?” you pressed, your voice rising. “How does that even happen?”

“It could be anything,” Sam said, his tone soothing but cautious. “Jammed signals, a misstep in the mission. We don’t know yet.”

You stared at them, your breathing shallow, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario imaginable. “So they could be…”

“They’re not,” Natasha said firmly, cutting you off. Her voice was sharp, but there was a softness in her gaze. “Steve and Bucky have been in worse situations than this. They’ll find a way to get back to us.”

Sam nodded in agreement, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. “They’re two of the toughest guys I know,” he said. “If anyone can make it out of this, it’s them.”

You wanted to believe them, but the fear in your chest refused to let go. You sank into one of the chairs, your hands gripping the armrests so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

The minutes dragged by like hours, the silence in the room heavy and oppressive. Natasha and Sam tried to make conversation, to keep you distracted, but you barely registered their words. Your mind was too consumed by the thought of what could happen—of what might have already happened.

***

When Natasha’s phone finally buzzed, the sound cut through the quiet like a gunshot. She snatched it up, her sharp gaze scanning the screen. Relief flickered across her face as she read aloud:

“It’s from Steve. They’re on their way back, but a medic is necessary.”

Your heart seized, a mixture of relief and panic coursing through you. “Who’s hurt?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“He didn’t say,” Natasha replied, her lips pressing into a thin line.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the knot in your chest refused to loosen. You told yourself it didn’t matter who was hurt—they were alive, and they were coming back. But the not knowing gnawed at you, the fear for Steve settling deep in your bones.

No one told Steve you were here, and maybe that was for the best. But as you sat there, waiting for the jet to arrive, you realized just how fragile everything felt. The past few months flashed through your mind—all the moments of doubt, the anger, the hesitation—and for the first time, they seemed so small. In the grand scheme of things, you could have lost Steve today. That thought terrified you more than anything else.

***

The sound of the jet’s engines rumbling low overhead pulled you out of your thoughts. You stood with Natasha and Sam, your heart pounding as the aircraft touched down on the Tower’s private landing pad.

The ramp lowered slowly, and the first thing you saw was Steve, his arm slung around Bucky to help him walk. Bucky looked pale, his arm hanging limp at his side, his face tight with pain. Medics rushed forward to meet him, but your eyes were locked on Steve.

He didn’t look much better than Bucky. His shirt was torn, streaked with dirt and blood, and his face bore a fresh collection of cuts and bruises. His shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion, his steps slow and measured.

But when his eyes found yours, he smiled.

Even battered and bloodied, he’d never looked more handsome. His beard, grown in over the time he’d been away, gave him a rugged edge, and his blue eyes still held that quiet strength you’d always admired.

The moment your gaze met his, something in you broke. You ran to him, barely aware of your surroundings, and threw your arms around him.

“Steve,” you sobbed, burying your face in his chest. His shirt was rough against your skin, damp with sweat and blood, but you didn’t care. “I was so scared. I thought… I thought I might lose you.”

His arms wrapped around you tightly, his grip strong despite his obvious exhaustion. “I’m okay,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “I’m here.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, tears streaming down your face. “You have to be more careful,” you said, your voice trembling. “You can’t… you can’t do this to me, Steve.”

His expression softened, and he reached up to brush a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What happened?” you asked, your voice cracking. “What went wrong?”

To your surprise, Steve didn’t hesitate. He guided you to a quieter corner, his hand resting lightly on your back, and began to explain.

“The mission was supposed to be straightforward,” he said, his voice low but steady. “But things went sideways fast. There were more hostiles than we anticipated, and Bucky got hit—bad. I couldn’t leave him behind, so I…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

“You carried him out,” you finished, your throat tightening.

Steve nodded, his eyes meeting yours. “I wasn’t going to leave him, no matter what.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t just from fear. They were from the overwhelming realization of who Steve truly was—the man who would sacrifice everything for the people he cared about.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softer now. “I won’t make that mistake again. And if you’re willing to listen, I’ll tell you everything—about the missions, about what’s going on with me. No more shutting you out.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mixture of love and fear and hope. Slowly, you nodded. “I’m listening,” you said.

And as he began to speak, you felt the cracks in your heart begin to mend, one word at a time.

***

Steve stayed with you after the medics whisked Bucky away to the infirmary. He’d insisted Bucky was in good hands, though you could see the guilt still lingering in his eyes. You sat together in one of the quieter rooms in the Tower, the tension from the mission still clinging to him like a second skin.

Despite his exhaustion, he refused to let go of your hand.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you sat beside him. “I know it’s late.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He gave you a small, tired smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re too good to me.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “No, Steve. I’m just—” You paused, searching for the right words. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging as the adrenaline that had sustained him through the mission began to fade. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For everything,” he replied, meeting your gaze with a vulnerability that left you breathless. “For scaring you, for shutting you out before… for making you feel like you weren’t enough. I know I’ve said it before, but I need you to know I mean it.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. For a long moment, you didn’t respond, your chest tight as you tried to process the enormity of what he was saying.

“I was so scared today,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “When Nat texted me, when we didn’t know if you were okay… it was like the ground had been ripped out from under me.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I realized then how stupid these past few months have been. I was so caught up in my own hurt, my own doubts, that I didn’t see what we were losing.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You weren’t wrong to feel that way,” he said softly. “You had every right to be hurt, to doubt me. I earned that. But I don’t want to lose you, baby. Not now. Not ever.”

His words broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

“Don’t you dare scare me like that again,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady and resolute.

***

The days following the mission passed in a haze of quiet moments and tentative steps forward. Steve stayed at the Tower to help Bucky recover, but he checked in with you constantly. Sometimes it was a quick text—How are you? Did you eat today?—and sometimes it was a phone call that lasted longer than either of you expected.

You visited the Tower often, bringing Bucky some of his favorite snacks and sitting with him while Steve caught up on reports. Bucky teased you relentlessly, of course, his dry humor cutting through the tension in ways only he could manage.

“So,” he said one afternoon, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “When are you two going to stop tiptoeing around and just admit you’re back together?”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “We’re not—”

“Sure,” Bucky interrupted, smirking. “And I’m the King of Wakanda.”

Steve, who had just entered the room, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glaring at Bucky.

“Just pointing out the obvious,” Bucky said with a shrug, earning himself an eye-roll from both you and Steve.

Despite his teasing, Bucky’s words stayed with you. He wasn’t entirely wrong. The way you and Steve interacted had changed since the mission. There was a closeness now, a sense of trust that hadn’t been there before.

***

One evening, Steve invited you to dinner at the Tower. He didn’t call it a date, and you didn’t press him on it, but there was something deliberate about the way he’d set the table, the candles he’d lit, the care he’d taken with every detail.

The two of you sat across from each other, the soft glow of the candles casting warm light over his face. For a while, you just talked—about work, about Bucky’s recovery, about the books you’d been reading. The conversation flowed easily, the tension that had once lingered between you finally gone.

At one point, Steve leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” he began, his voice steady but quiet. “About how scared you were. How I need to be more careful.”

You frowned slightly. “Steve, I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I know your work is dangerous. I’ve always known that.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But you were right. I can’t keep doing this—not without being honest with you about what’s going on. If I’m asking you to be part of my life, I need to make sure you feel like you’re part of it.”

His words sent a warmth through your chest, a feeling of being truly seen and valued. “I appreciate that,” you said softly.

Steve smiled, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like everything between you was falling into place.

***

As the night wore on, the conversation grew quieter, more intimate. Steve reached across the table, his hand brushing yours.

“I know we can’t go back to how things were before,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But I think we can build something better. Something stronger. If you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no doubt. Just quiet determination and a love that felt as steady and unshakable as the man himself.

“I want that too,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened, and for the first time in months, you felt the weight in your chest begin to lift.

It wasn’t a perfect ending. There were still things to work through, still scars to heal. But as Steve reached for your hand, his grip warm and sure, you knew you were ready to take the next step—together.

[daisymbin]

Hi, belle! I love your writing 🤍

Can I ask for suggestive prompt 15? w/ jeonghan + fem reader

him being the person to say this in the middle of a fight while the reader wants to fight and he's clearly thinking about something more interesting

hi anon!! such an interesting take omg yes!! thank you for requesting 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hannie's m.list

suggestive prompt #15: "if you keep talking like that, I won't be able to hold back."

“you’re so stubborn, jeonghan,” you snap, pacing back and forth across the living room. your voice is sharp, cutting through the otherwise quiet apartment. “do you even realize how frustrating you are?”

jeonghan watches you from where he’s sprawled on the couch, his head tilted lazily against the cushion. his dark eyes follow your every movement, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite the irritation etched into your face.

“i think you’ve mentioned it once or twice,” he says, his tone light and teasing, as though your anger is nothing more than a passing breeze.

you stop pacing and whirl to face him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “this isn’t a joke, jeonghan. i’m being serious.”

he sits up slightly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “oh, i know you’re serious,” he murmurs, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “you always get this cute little crease between your brows when you’re mad.”

you glare at him, heat rising to your cheeks at his words. “stop trying to distract me. you can’t just—”

“can’t just what?” he interrupts smoothly, standing up in one fluid motion. he’s in front of you in an instant, his gaze piercing as he looks down at you. “can’t just call out the fact that you’re practically glowing right now? that you’re so worked up it’s actually kind of... hot?”

your breath catches, your resolve faltering as his words sink in. but you shake your head, trying to regain your footing. “you think you can just... sweet-talk your way out of everything, don’t you?” frustration still bubbling within you.

his smirk widens, and he steps closer, the heat of his presence overwhelming. “and what if i do? is it working?”

“no,” you snap, though the slight waver in your voice betrays you. “we’re supposed to be having a serious conversation right now, jeonghan. you can’t just... just flirt your way through it!”

he hums thoughtfully, tilting his head as if considering your words. “maybe i’m not flirting,” he says softly, his voice low and velvety. “maybe i’m just trying to remind you of something more important.”

“and what’s that?” you ask, your frustration boiling over.

his lips ghost over yours, the slightest hint of contact that makes your knees weak. “i think we both know who’s really in control here.”

his gaze darkens, his smirk fading into something more intense. he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long.

“if you keep talking like that,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “i won’t be able to hold back.”

your heart stops, your breath hitching as his words hang in the air. his fingers trail down to your jaw, tilting your face up so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“jeonghan,” you say, your voice trembling. “don’t change the subject. we were—”

“were we?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “because all i can think about right now is how hot you look when you’re this fired up.”

your mouth opens to respond, but his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “you don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?” he whispers, his lips so close you can feel the warmth of his breath.

your hands rise instinctively to press against his chest, but instead of pushing him away, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “hannie,” you whisper, though it sounds more like a plea than a protest.

“tell me to stop,” he says, his voice rough, his forehead resting against yours. “if you don’t want it, tell me to stop right now.”

but you don’t.

instead, you tilt your head up, closing the small distance between you as your lips meet his.

the kiss is electric, sending a jolt down your spine as his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him. his lips are soft yet insistent, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, grounding you even as your knees threaten to buckle.

“you drive me crazy,” he mutters against your lips, his voice low and full of heat.

“good,” you manage to breathe, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

he chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he trails kisses down your jaw and to the sensitive spot just below your ear. “you’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving you gasping.

“maybe i like the risk,” you whisper, emboldened by the way his hands grip you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“careful,” he warns, his voice dripping with both amusement and desire. “if you keep talking like that, i’ll show you exactly what you’ve started.”

so you try again, because if anything, jeonghan looks a thousand times just as hot when he's all worked up, "hannie,"

"yes, love?"

"you're so stubborn and it's annoying," your voice dips, and jeonghan knows you half mean it, & somehow, it turns him on even more.

the look in his eyes is all the warning you need—and yet, you find yourself leaning into him, daring him to follow through.

[afreakingdork]

Writing Request: Reader x Donnie's V-Card 💜

Hey, guess what?! I do these anonymously too!

This one goes out to a lovely anon! Thank you for your support!

From now until the poll closes if you can prove to me that you voted hassan/mikey in this poll then I will write any short 100-400 word request like below or draw you a doodle of your chosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

Under the cut for spice, but it's not explicit!

Donnie had meant to do this so sweetly. He had a plan. He was going to do exactly what you were supposed to. Despite his proclivity otherwise, he was going to lay out rose petals. He was going to set the mood with lighting that made up for that garish red and avoided the danger and smell of scented candles. He had four different playlists prepared and an algorithm ready to switch based on what tempo best suited the night. He had a multitude of condoms in their different texture and make-ups because there should be a choice and he definitely didn't get overwhelmed looking at the yokai selection. he had lubes of the same, but that had thankfully been an easier choice.

So why were you sinking down his length in the bathroom while he sat on the toilet of all things?

Family.

He wasn't thinking of them.

Friends.

They were the furthest things on his mind.

What wasn't was the start of this intimacy. The romantic plan had gone as discussed. You were both ready to take the next step. You inaugurated the evening with a date. There was light dinner that was walked off in cozy arm and arm. There were the lights of the city and a few breath taking jumps to get your heart rate elevated. Though he had taken you to see the city from above, there was a new connotation as New York sparkled in your eyes.

The moment you turned to share the sight with him, you saw his vision and that was it.

You kissed.

It grew a little hotter.

You whispered against him to take you home.

it was another shot of adrenaline as he carried you straight down the closest underground entrance that led to the lair. You whimpered in his arms as he shot you amorous looks throughout. You mewling thing were all the more ready and he equally so even if there was a certain clamminess to his hands.

You got to his room.

He locked up the door tight.

The roses.

The light.

The playlist.

The assortment of choice.

You were thankful in your saunter and plied him with kisses. It made all the agonizing and embarrassing preparation worth it. Those cheek pecks once again drew heat from his core. His heart swelled. It was his turn for the flood of endorphins and you steering the pair of you to bed was your confirmation that you were game. You wanted him. You chose him.

What sweet validation.

As you teetered on the bed, it began. First Leo, who portalled straight in because only the lab had that kind of anti-mystic protection. You squeaked knowing your misdeed, but to the outsider, you looked like you were doing nothing more than making out. Donnie raged at the interruption, but Leo brushed him off saying he needed back-up in dinner choice. Donnie oh, so kindly reminded him that he had already ate and the date was long logged in the family calendar. Leo not so hopelessly stared at him and second guessed the decision before he was run out. Donnie was left fuming at the door as he added a 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign.

"It's alright."

Your voice was sweet nectar.

It beckoned and soothed.

He floated back to you and never reached your lips when the pounding came.

Michelangelo in a tizzy because he'd dropped his ant farm. His latest hobby and the colony has somehow unionized. He spoke of how they were taking over the room with domain expansion ready for the kitchen provision and Donnie screamed over his shoulder for Mikey's to just ready for once in his life. There was a popped syllable and bashful apology before the air hung heavy. The littlest made his review of the three words as loud as possible before he cited comparatively non-nonchalant apologies and annouced to Raph that they were going to war as peace talks fell through.

The oldest brother groaned somewhere not too far away.

A little close for comfort as you shudder where you were beneath your boyfriend.

"I'm starting to realize the others are... right there..."

The first signs of uncertainty flared in his mind, but he could fix this. He enacted sound proofing. He set his entire room to do not disturb. This measure was typically saved for crashing on particularly hard nights, but it was worth it. This was his fault for not remembering how tenacious his family was. He was the one making the best nest for you and his folly had been in placement. Once again secure, you reviewed his preparations with some meter of affection.

There was still a chance.

A kiss.

Shy and sweet that simmered as the burner was on. The heat percolated in bubbling pops of lips leaving for air and little soft moans. They lead further down with your hands shaping his plastron and his at your sensitive sides. Down until your back hit the bed and you pulled him with. His knee slotted between your legs and your heads dipped to share a little more than oxygen.

"PURPLE!"

Splinter's voice was a bucket of ice water in some old time challenge and Donnie could only turn his head before all his carefully constructed provisions were broken through in a second. Mystic prison hadn't been able to hold his father; the man was too powerful for his own lazy right. Especially when he demanded his remote be fixed after the ant army had taken its batteries to power their remote controlled tanks.

Donnie was starting to think he may have to help that endeavor as he marched over to get his dad two triple A's.

You.

You with your kindness.

You with your patience for him.

You talked to his father in the meantime.

Yes, the date was wonderful.

Me and Donnie were planning to spend more time together tonight.

No, we won't be eating dinner with you.

I hope you get the clam chowder you're craving.

When Donnie returned, you looked a little to comfortable on his bed. No longer were you ready to be splayed, but you were sat ready on the edge. A sight of someone in the midst of changed plans, Donnie relegated the union of your love to another night. You would go now and have at it on the battlefield before your war torn bodies enjoyed whatever dinner option Leo presumably wanted instead.

That would be nice.

Be it laying beside you with a sheen of sweat from coupling or conflict, you would look just as radiant.

You finally stood, your face determined, and took his hand to go.

He was putty in your fingertips and only sort of noticed your detour to his table of choice.

Then you were in the hallway where the distant sounds of the fray leaked out.

You didn't go that way.

You turned, presumably ready to get suited up in his lab.

You led him right into the bathroom.

He had been stunned, but you continued to move him.

The door locked.

You worked his fly.

He took a cold seat with a bare thighs on porcelain.

You stripped only the necessary bottom layers.

You prepared yourself.

You prepared him.

Back at where his mind had left him, you had descended upon him with little force. Only the angle was a tricky one, but you were certainly managing. A slow up and down that spread your love out from its fluttering wing beats in his heart to between his legs. The steadily increasing moisture of the right whipping filled the air before you caught him. You shared his distraction with a hopeless smile. You accepted him in all parts, family included and you were his beating heart. It was his pleasure to watch your reassurance slip into little breathy moans and he left behind his place as bystander. In one twitch of his thighs and his hands to your hips, his angle improved and you draped over him to share in the sweetness.

The story for old would include the bed.

it would include the petals.

The gorgeous lit neon.

Playlist number three.

You had full say in the memory he'd print, but this, you framed with the shower curtain in the background, working yourself as hard as you could for him, whispering his name like a plea and your salvation, that part he would leave in for your future generations and he leaned in to make sure you'd agree to it the same way.

[thewalrusespublicist]

is it true that john in the 70s would listen to pauls records and comment you’re here or there you are or something along those lines? if so, i just don’t understand it, like what does he mean by that. also, couldn’t he just call him?

(Quick note: the first bit of this is really similar to what was discussed in the first episode of @anotherkindofmindpod's Strange Bedfellows series. I think what I say is enough to constitute a slightly different perspective but as it's borderline I've linked the episode here. It's a great series so recommend people check it out regardless.)

Hi anon! Yes, it's true, the source for it is actually Paul:

PAUL: ... after [John] died, the thing that helped me the most, really, was talking to Yoko about it. She volunteered the information that he had . . . really liked me. She said that once or twice, they had sat down to listen to my records and he had said, "There you are." So an awful lot went on in the privacy of their own place. So, yes, it was very important.

--Paul McCartney, 1984 Playboy Interview

So it's true but ... like you said, what does he mean by that? I think there are two options. Option one is a ''Well Yoko, there you are, he's brilliant you can't deny it'' kind of ''there you are'' which is sweet in itself. The other, more insane option is him tenderly stroking the record player like ''there you are, we've grown so apart that sometimes I feel like I can't recognise you anymore but there you are, here is the person I love, right here where I thought you would be, right here in the music.'' It's a shame we don't have a audio or video (actually do we? Someone correct me if I'm wrong) because tone would be a BIG help here. The crazy thing is from the other stories we have of this account from Yoko via Paul, John is crying and saying he loves him really so it seems like the second option is the more likely one which goooooood god.

As for why he can't just call him? Ugh, great question! If the real life/stepping out demo is about Paul, even John himself is telling himself to just call him on the phone. We know that in some cases, John does call him and does reach out. So why not more if he's crying over records about his undying love for the man? Well, I've discussed it in greater detail elsewhere but John's feelings for Paul were complex and distorted by hurt and mental illness. Sure in these moments he was filled with his overwhelming love for Paul but in the very next moment he could be back to boiling 'hatred' or jealousy or anger. It's also hard to call someone when you have so many feelings of hurt and rejection that could slip out (and have in the past causing screaming arguments down the phone). You would have to be really brave and open and willing to be vulnerable to do that which is a lot to ask. This is especially a lot for John who did not call people by his own admission out of insecurity.

So to sum up everything, it is true and John didnt call because emotions are hard, relationships are hard and mental illness is REALLY hard.

[stars-n-spice]

Be healthy. What nicknames do Batchy and their partners give each other and for what reasons (Phee calls Tech brown-eyed because of the color of his eyes, for example)?

Hello! I just came off of having a cold, so I hope I stay healthy lol. But I hope you are healthy too dear anon! 🩵 Sorry it took so long to answer! This is such a cute question! I'd been meaning to do little doodles of them calling each other nicknames so here ya go!

Hunter's not really one for nicknames, so he rarely uses them and Jung really only uses a few as well since he doesn't speak much

Echo and Viram enjoy using sweeter nicknames for each other, with Viram using a few ridiculous ones that make Echo laugh every time she calls him one of them

Wrecker and Khea uses nicknames for each other constantly - sweet, endearing, cringey, silly - they use them all because it's fun but also because Khea is someone who is constantly using nicknames for everyone and anyone

Phee is like Khea where she is constantly using nicknames, but the ones for Tech are special and sweet - meanwhile, Tech typically uses very romantic and charming nicknames for Phee like some kind of Victorian lover

Crosshair thinks pet names are kinda stupid so he doesn't like using them - instead he'll use insults (affectionately sometimes) for Tay, with him rarely calling him something like 'babe' - meanwhile, Tay loves using any and all nick/petnames for Crosshair

The nicknames included are both in universe and in a modern setting!

Hunter calls Jung:

Cyare - 'beloved' in Mando'a because Jung is his beloved Taku taupuhi - 'darling/my chosen' one in Māori because he chose Jung to be his partner in the special dynamic they have

Jung calls Hunter:

Darling - because Jung likes the regal politeness of it Hun - short for "Hunter" and a play on words of 'Hon' (which is short for 'Honey') 여보 - means 'honey/sweetheart' in Korean

Echo calls Viram:

Cyar’ika, Love - sweet words of endearment to show how much he loves Viram E ipo - means 'darling' in Māori Taku whaiāipo - means 'my sweetheart' in Māori Nectarine - because Viram reminds Echo of a nectarine (sweet and colorful)

Viram calls Echo:

Love/Honey - sweet words of endearment to show how much she loves Echo Snookums/Cutiepie - silly words of endearment she uses to make Echo laugh Querido - means 'dear' in Portuguese Meu eco - means 'my echo' in Portuguese (because that's what he is)

Wrecker calls Khea:

Mesh’la - means 'beautiful' in Mando'a because Wrecker thinks she's beautiful and he knows she appreciates him using the language of her people Babe/Hon - classic terms of endearment he enjoys using Sunshine/Firecracker - cute nicknames that reflect her enthusiastic and hotheaded behavior Manu iti - means 'little bird/birdie' in Māori because she reminds him of a bird

Khea calls Wrecker:

Ori’cyare/Big Guy - reflecting on some obvious physical attributes of Wrecker, 'ori' means 'big' in Mando'a so she's calling him her 'big beloved/sweetheart' basically Ori’dral - akin to meaning 'big bright, powerful light' as 'ori' means 'big' and 'dral' means 'bright, glowing, strong, and/or powerful' to reflect on him being a guiding light and a source of strength to her Mi vida - 'my life' in Spanish because he's everything to her Mi corazón - 'my heart' in Spanish because he's her wants and desires Papí - basically 'daddy' in Spanish and she jokingly uses it 여보 - 'sweetheart/honey' in Korean

Tech calls Phee:

Honey, Beloved/My love/Darling - Tech loves using any and all super romantic and flowy words of endearment for Phee to show how much he cares and loves her Taku taonga - 'my treasure' in Māori because she's worth everything and more to him and because pirates

Phee calls Tech:

Brown Eyes - for obvious reasons we all know and love Babe/Dear - classic terms of endearment she likes to use because they never fail to make Tech smile Sweetcheeks/Pudding/Muffin/Cutiepie - silly terms of endearment that she loves to use because they make Tech blush and short-circuit

Crosshair calls Tay:

Idiot/Bastard - usually said with a scoff or roll of his eyes (Tay)-Babe - occasionally calls him the classic 'babe' name and will call him 'Tay-babe' either to get something he wants or because he's going, "Tay. Babe." after Tay says/does something stupid Taku whaiāipo - means 'sweetheart' in Māori because Tay is sweet to him but this is something he's only ever call Tay in private

Tay calls Crosshair:

Baby/Babe - classic terms of endearment that he uses a lot Hubby - after they get married, Tay uses this a lot just because he's grateful and proud to call Crosshair his husband Mi cielo - 'my darling/sky' in Spanish for reasons that can be found in this fic in the third chapter! Cariño - 'darling/honey/dear' in Spanish and something Tay likes using because he purrs it and Crosshair always blushes Literally any embarrassing pet name under the sun - Tay likes teasing Crosshair and will say anything to get him to blush or squirm

[raekensluver]

YOU SHOULD MAKE A SMUT ABT STALKER FRED WEASLEY EEEEEEEEKKKK

(there isn't any p in v action but i hope this is okay!) sorry this took me ages!! anon- i love your mind. muah muah

you stumbled into your apartment, breathless and laughing, with the mysterious stranger whose name you hadn't quite caught over the din of the pub's music. the lights were off, casting everything in a warm glow from the street lamps outside, and the smell of rain-soaked wool and whiskey lingered in the air. he had a mop of fiery hair that matched his vibrant personality, a stark contrast to the quiet life you usually led.

his eyes, a playful shade of brown, searched yours for approval as he gently closed the door behind you. you nodded, a shiver of excitement coursing through your body, as his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers with surprising tenderness. the moment was charged with a tension that was both thrilling and slightly unnerving. he had been flirting with you all evening, but there was something in his gaze that hinted at a deeper connection.

his other hand traced the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest. your breath mingled with his, the whiskey on his breath warming your face as you leaned in to kiss him again. his lips were soft and sure, moving with an urgency that belied the casual encounter you'd had only moments before. it was as if he'd been waiting for this, planning it, dreaming of it.

you stumbled backwards together, his grip never loosening, until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the couch. with a silent agreement, you both tumbled onto the cushions, his weight pressing you into the plush fabric. your hands roamed over the contours of his body, exploring the lines of his chest and the firmness of his arms. he murmured something against your neck that you couldn't quite make out, but the reverence in his voice sent a thrill down your spine.

his hand slid up to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, as he kissed you deeper. the sound of the rain outside grew louder, a rhythmic backdrop to the beating of your hearts. but amidst the passion, a nagging doubt began to creep in. his words from the pub echoed in your mind: "i've been waiting for this moment since the day i saw you." it was sweet, but the intensity behind it made you uneasy. you tried to push the thought aside, focusing on the heat of his body, the way his touch sent sparks through you.

his hands grew more insistent, and you felt the zipper of your dress start to lower. you pulled back, your eyes searching his. "wait," you breathed, "are you okay?" his smile was soft, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "better than okay," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. "i've been dreaming of this, of you, for so long." his words sent a chill down your spine, and you realized you didn't know his name.

"what's your name?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. for a moment, he paused, his expression faltering. "fred," he finally said, "fred weasley." the name didn't immediately click, but there was something familiar about it. "have we…met before?" you ventured, the question hanging in the air like a chill. his eyes searched yours, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.

his grip on your hair loosened, and he leaned back slightly, allowing you to sit up. "not exactly," he replied, his voice a little less certain. "i've just…seen you around. you're kind of hard to miss." his gaze drifted over you, and you felt suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his stare. the room grew quieter, the only sound the rain tapping against the windows.

you tried to recall any past encounters with a man who looked like him, but nothing concrete came to mind. yet, the feeling that you'd seen him before was unshakeable. in the corners of your vision, you could almost make out a flash of his hair, a hint of his smile in a crowded room. had he been at the bookstore where you worked part-time? or maybe you'd passed each other on the street, his eyes lingering just a moment too long?

his confession left a knot in your stomach, but you brushed it off with a forced laugh. "stalker much?" you quipped, trying to lighten the mood. his expression grew serious, his eyes searching yours. "not like that," he said, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "i just…noticed you. you stand out."

his hand rested on your knee, his thumb making small circles through the fabric of your dress. his touch was warm and comforting, but the creeping sense of unease remained. you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. "it's okay," you told yourself, "it's just a bit of fun, no strings attached." you leaned in to kiss him again, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right.

but as your lips met, you couldn't shake the image of his eyes following you from afar, watching you live your life without ever saying hello. the thought made you pull away again, your eyes searching the shadows of the room for any sign of a hidden camera or some other evidence of his obsession. "are you sure you're okay with this?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

his sincerity was almost too much to bear, and for a moment, you wanted to tell him to leave. but the attraction was still there, a magnetic pull that kept you rooted to the spot. "yes," you lied, pushing aside the doubt. "i'm just…nervous." his smile grew wider, and he leaned in to kiss you again, his hand sliding up your thigh.

his touch sent waves of heat through your body, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment once more. you allowed him to remove your dress, his eyes never leaving yours as it pooled at your feet. the cool air of the room kissed your skin, making you shiver as he traced the line of your collarbone with his fingers. his kisses grew more insistent, his breath hot against your neck as his hand moved to the clasp of your bra.

the sound of the rain grew heavier, the thunder rumbling closer, echoing the tumult of emotions inside you. part of you felt like you were betraying your better judgment, but the desire was too strong to resist. you leaned back into the couch, allowing him to explore your body with the same passionate intensity he'd shown all night. his mouth found your ear, and he whispered, "you have no idea how much i've wanted this." the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you wondered again about the history you didn't share.

his kisses grew more demanding, and his hands began to roam with a possessiveness that made you uncomfortable. you tried to push the feeling aside, focusing instead on the way his touch made you feel alive. but the nagging doubt remained, a persistent itch at the back of your mind that grew harder to ignore. his hands slid up your body, and you felt him unclasp your bra. the fabric fell away, and you felt exposed under his gaze.

you reached for him, trying to regain some semblance of control, to make this feel like it was still your choice. his shirt came off with ease, revealing a chest that was surprisingly toned under the soft fabric. you ran your hands over his skin, feeling the warmth and solidity of him beneath your fingertips. his breath hitched, and his eyes closed, a look of pure pleasure crossing his face. and for a moment, you almost believed that this was just a normal hookup, that you didn't know the extent of his obsession.

[nat-seal-well]

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovely person 🌹

You are such a talented writer! I adore every single one of your AUs and the snippets of your thoughts that you share on here. Marin and Nat are one of my favourite pairings! And your enthusiasm and kindness is wonderful, always.

Here’s a romance-themed OC question for any OC(s) of your choosing (no pressure to answer on Valentine’s day itself, or at all):

What does your OC get as a Valentine’s gift for their LI (if anything)? What does their LI get them?

Aww!! You're going to make me blush ;//////; This was the sweetest message to see when I got up this morning, anon. Thank you so much <333 I'm giving you the biggest hug right now. And I hope you're having a lovely day!!

For your question, we'll go with Marin and Nat!

Marin isn't very good at gift-giving, and it stresses them out a lot, especially since I feel like Nat would be very good at it. They want to give her the perfect gift, but they never know what. Is there a price limit? How much is too much? They want to give her everything she could ever want! But that's a little hard when all you don't even make enough for a decent car, lol. What do you buy for a vampire who's been alive for three centuries, earns a wage that's more than decent, and already has a warehouse full to the brim with antiques she's been collecting for lifetimes?

It's something that's been on their mind for a long, long time. And then they get an idea.

Instead of finding something, wrapping it up, and hoping for the best, they take her out on a date to one of the bookstores in town. One that has a rare book room. And then they set her loose.

It's a win-win: Nat gets to explore shelves hard-to-find books--first editions, autographed copies, and more. Now Marin doesn't have to stress over finding her the wrong thing! (Not that that would be possible, if you asked Nat. She would love whatever they got.)

Nat, on the other hand, spends hours before the holiday, scouring through every single little art gallery Wayhaven has to offer. And since it's a coastal town, I imagine it would have a lot. Ava, of course, is her driver companion, going with her through every gallery in the area. Maybe even in the next town over. (She has to beg Ava for that, but it isn't very hard to win her over.) They don't come home until she finds a seascape that is just right. She ties a red bow around it and hides it in her closet until February 14th, lol.

(It makes Marin cry.)

[thevalleyoftriumph]

Helloo o/ I'm the anon from earlier who sent you many many questions about your system chosen Very glad that my ask wasn't overwhelming because I approach with yet more questions >:] get ready Does Dark know Chosen is a system? Or a part of a system? Unsure of the correct way to call it. What does he think of each of them if yes? I can see Dark talking excitedly about a shared interest with Killer, Dark loves Chosen dearly but its. Difficult. To get a bit of emotion out of him. Killer though? Once they feel comfortable around him I can see them allowing themselves to become more expressive/ easily excited "Beast had sorta filed them away as one of the very few ""trustworthy"" sticks" <- quote from the answer you gave to my first ask. I'm guessing Dark was also in this list yes? Beast was co-conscious during AVA3 if i remember correctly and so saw Dark was willing to help and defend. Even if Beast didn't trust them 100% it didn't think of them as a threat right? Maybe even considered him an ally And if yes, Dark was on the Trustworthy list, what about the virabot thing made Beast decide "Hmmm no he's an enemy actually"? I wonder how Killer unmasking around Dark for the first time went, and whether that's how Dark found out his brother is a system Has Killer ever jumped 10ft in the air because they were startled by the toaster? And if yes, how long did it take for Dark to stop laughing Has Beast ever come out mid spar? Realises they're mid combat so rushes out to protect and- And Dark realises he's not fighting who he was before, Chosen doesn't look at him with infinite distrust. Killer doesn't stand both ready for combat and to flee at a moments notice (Beast wouldn't flee, but despite that, I think its always ready to). Dark just backs away slowly I think, lowering his hands and doing everything possible to communicate he's not a threat. This allows Beast a bit of extra time to take in what's around, just incase its missed something in its initial assessment and. And they're both wearing handwraps, Dark's taken their bracelet off and whoever was here before Beast tied their jacket round their waist. Beast doesn't need to protect here, but it does now need to apologise I'm guessing Beast remembers it can speak while fronting from time to time right? Even if it feels Odd. I've got the mental image of Dark cooking something for himself, except Beast ALSO likes it alot alot and Dark just hears "Please." from behind him. Turns around to see Beast staring at him like its trying to beam the thought directly into Darks mind. They understand, and Dark maybe even gets a "Thank You" after the foods made. Idk, I like small things like that, if Dark doesn't know Chosen's a system then its just a small couple What-If's or What-Could-Have-Been's Also, what is a Singlet? I cant remember where you used the word but I am unfamiliar with it Also also, VERY happy that my terminology is correct, that whole ask I was terrified that I was aggressively wrong about something and was going to end up being incredibly rude Also ALSO also, I am giving Beast a mug of hot chocolate and a weighted blanket. It deserves to relax Breaking this up into more than one ask because tumblr is angry with me

WOW. HI!!!! OH MY GOD. HELLO. you are literally the most bestest person ever for being so curious and allowing me to speak so much WOW okay let me break all this down.

putting everything once more under a cut, but a breakdown here is i FIRST go through unrelated things such as helping a bit with your confusion on terms and meanings, before getting into the actual AVA stuff, so if anyone wants to skip that, there Is gonna be a linebreak ^_^ a lot of it is just definition talk so its probably boring if you already know this stuff lol. if youve come just for the headcanon, feel free to skip down to it! <3

FIRST ! since you were a bit confused, i would like to say; DID specifically stands for "Dissociative Identity Disorder." It is probably the most well known of the disorders that would constitute as being a "system" disorder, if you will. In the past it has been referred to by other things such as MPD, or multiple personality disorder, but that is since considered inaccurate and incredibly out of date.

OSDD, or Other Specified Dissociative Disorder, is another dissociative disorder as the name implies. In one specific case, is similar to DID in that a major symptom is the forming of distinctive parts - or alters - but has enough differences that it's been classified as it's own thing [though iirc, some professionals are debating if the distinction is necessary? Honestly I'm not a psychologist so I can't really comment on that part, but I felt it was worth noting that this was brought up once or twice.]

The distinction here is this; DID is usually diagnosed when there are at Least two distinct "parts" to a person, often being two [or more] entirely seperate people, and is paired with amnesia. This is not at all everything to do with the disorder, as it's a massively complex disorder with plenty of symptoms, but it is this specific symptom set in its most basic explanation. OSDD however can vary! OSDD-1 is specifically defined by wikipedia as when one is experiencing a "sub thresh-hold" to DID. There's way more "types" to OSDD, and as such I am not nearly equipped enough to talk about 2-4, but chances are if you're speaking to a system who has it, they will usually have either OSDD-1A, or -1B. These two aren't technically real diagnostic terms, they're moreso used to describe a set of symptoms. 1A is defined as having less disticnt alters than DID or 1B. 1B is specified by a lack of complete blackouts, aka amnesia, though they may instead experience grayouts and emotional amnesia. To be fair in at least my case specifically, grayouts are pretty common rrrregardless? But honestly that might just be a My Own Thing issue and a case of overlapping symptoms than anything else, so don't take my word for it entirely lol I get complete blackouts and grayouts and its soooo miserable helppp [I'm being lighthearted in tone on purpose you're allowed to laugh ^_^ /gen]

Lastly, the term "singlet" is an unofficial term that a lot of systems online use to refer to people who do not have alters. I'm like 99.9% sure it's like, never used in a professional setting, but I'm also Not a psychologist, again, so I have no clue if it's ever used offline. It's not anything negative, just a descriptor term the same way many other descriptor terms are used :]

Okay that's about it for explaining things. If anything else confuses you for any reason please don't be afraid to ask! And if you wanna look into it yourself, all I'll say is use literally anything OTHER than social media for research, there's a crazy amount of misinfo, especially on Tumblr or Tiktok.

Onto the questions and scenarios -- for questions, I will once again copypaste and bold them. For scenarios, I'll probably end up putting in a screenshot [with IDs, don't worry] for clarities sake.

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

1: Does Dark know Chosen is a system? Or a part of a system? Unsure of the correct way to call it. What does he think of each of them if yes?

For a very long time, Dark had NO idea Chosen was part of a system. [And either descriptors work, I honestly use both depending on which sounds less clunky at the time lol].

Dark had just assumed Chosen had some odd "quirks" here and there for ages, and didn't really push too hard whenever "Chosen" ended up getting really quiet, or more jumpy. I def agree with your HC that Dark probably doesn't have very many interactions [if any at all] with sticks outside of Chosen, so at most he just assumes this is normal.

Of course eventually, they do end up telling him - it takes a lot of effort on their part to build up the courage to do it and not immediately chicken out, because this is a Pretty Personal Thing after all, but like. Dark takes it so much better than they were expecting? And he's also very open to accomodating the other two with very little issue. Even if it takes time for Killer [and even Beast] to relax enough around him, and even if he does still have some trouble telling who's-who at first, he does try his best. At the end of the day, the three are his family, and he DOES care about them.

While we already know [or can at least infer] what he feels about Chosen, he does have different thoughts about the other two. You're 100% right this part specifically:

Dark and Killer do have quite a bit of overlapping interests, they realize once they get to talking to each other! They honestly bounce off each other scarily well, and are the type of people to start a stupid bit as a joke and just keep adding onto it for like, twenty minutes. For the most part, Dark's perception of Killer is positive! He's also gotten a bit into the habit of being A Bit Obviously Noisy around the house once realizing Killer's issue with being snuck up on or surprised - previously, Dark was unintentionally VERY quiet. He's naturally sorta light on his feet, lacking footsteps most of the time, and ends up startling most people. After both a discussion and accidental event, he starts trying to be more purposefully loud in their home, especially if he's somewhere Killer can't see, or has to be behind them for one reason or another. Nothing anything TOO loud - no slamming doors or footsteps, no yelling, just casual noise. Jewelry that clacks together or just humming a song.

With Beast, he's more cautious. He understands its purpose, and why it's there, and for the most part, Dark doesn't really.... saying he doesn't mind makes it seem like something it's not but honestly I can't find a better way to word it. He doesn't mind its staring or its lack of speaking, and I'm also gonna pull up another part you said because honestly while I initially wanted Beast to be 100% quiet I'm a massive fan of this little scenario and so I'm adopting it into my worldview immediately;

So yeah Dark is like, completely on board with Beast's more odd traits, once it actually is able to relax for once. I'd say Beast is probably the one Dark knows the least just by way of it rarely ever fronting outside of the more dire circumstances. He knows enough from what he can piece together from his own memories of it, plus any resulting messages from Chosen and Killer depending on how much they know about it at that point in time. However, if asked personally and privately, Dark would express a bit of sympathy, maybe worry for Beast. He understands what it's like to be seen as a sort of... villainous person - not to the severity that Beast had been treated, but he can sympathize. And while he leans into it, he knows that it's the last thing Beast - or Chosen and Killer for that matter - would want for themselves. He sometimes wishes he could do more to help it, but often refrains from trying, knowing that any pushing could absolutely do more harm than good at this point, no matter how much he wants to try. It's a tricky situation, and it's a very unsteady trust they have, and he's not willing to rock the boat too hard and end up hurting the three. As I love to say about my favorite antagonist characters; he's a villain, not a monster, he's got standards lol

1.5: Assuming Dark DOESNT know Chosen is/ is apart of a system (still don't know the correct way to call it), how does he react to switches? Or Killer and Beast in general?

Switches, in general, are meant to be pretty covert of a thing. If all goes right, no one should be able to tell, at the very least not right away, that a switch occured. Thus, before Dark learned about everything, a few little things did tip him off as to something being a bit.. off with "Chosen." He'd notice a lot of forgetfulness of things that happened literally yesterday, or sudden preferences doing a complete 180 into something else, or, like you mentioned, complete silence all of a sudden. If it's a big enough and sudden enough change then he would definitely notice how odd it is and just kinda file it away for later, thinking "oh that was really strange, maybe I should ask about that?"

Yeah honestly all of this is pretty accurate to how that'd go down pre-knowing. Like I said Dark definitely hasn't interacted with very many people [if anyone at all] outside of Chosen and thus does think this is probably normal to a degree, but the first few times [more like a couple hundred times] it DOES kinda hurt a bit and cause some confusion before they can work something out for it.

2: ...I'm guessing Dark was also in this list yes? Beast was co-conscious during AVA3 if i remember correctly and so saw Dark was willing to help and defend. Even if Beast didn't trust them 100% it didn't think of them as a threat right? Maybe even considered him an ally

Oh yeah, for a while after it was able to let go of the constantly moving train of thought that consisted exclusively of just "protect" and "danger," it did for a long time consider Dark trustworthy enough to feel safe around and to relax, even if it was just the tiniest amount. It's almost always on guard, but... well, surely it can let Dark watch its back just this once, right? It was a sort of "well, you're not hurting me, and we are fighting the same guy, so......." sort of allyship at first. It probably definitely helped that for a long time between AVA3 and Showdown, Dark and Chosen probably had pretty relaxed lives outside of the whole tormening the internet thing. They probably didn't really do anything that'd warrent the feeling of danger in their free time, so on the days when Beast would be the one jolting awake at night, it'd be able to, slowly, calm down. Plus, with Dark being so open minded about things that help Beast instead of hurt it, and the way the other two seemed fine with him, it did begin to trust him.

2.5: And if yes, Dark was on the Trustworthy list, what about the virabot thing made Beast decide "Hmmm no he's an enemy actually"?

Oh god, the Virabots. Yeah that whole thing was a complete MESS for the three honestly. It was less the presence of the Virabots themselves and moreso the actions that Dark had made them do against Chosen specifically. Until then, Chosen was mostly cautious about them - he knew they could be dangerous, but at that point still believed he could talk Dark out of his plan. Along with this, Dark is kinda the worlds most emotionally constipated guy ever, and has ZERO skills in talking about his plans and feelings without requiring people to do a five page deconstructive essay to decipher what he means about it. To Chosen, the second that first Virabot ended up trying to actively kill him, was when the seed of doubt kinda bloomed. He was worried then, and had the idea that yes, Dark is still a killer, he is destructive, always has been, and is fully capable of hurting him - or worse, if he somehow got the upper hand. Chosen knows this fact very, very well. It was quite literally their first ever interaction.

But he still wanted to believe Dark wouldn't do that.

Until he got quite literally dogpiled, of course. I'd say the second Dark started actively sic'ing Virabots at him was the moment that Chosen pulled back and Beast shoved itself into front going "okay, this is serious, this is not the person we trusted, because our Dark wouldn't hurt us like this." It was vehement denial mixed with a sort of bitter "I told you so" feeling. It saw this coming, it let its guard down, it trusted someone, and now it was being attacked by something it could barely take on as one, nevermind tens, maybe hundreds. It was being attacked by Dark. So it had to fix that mistake and remove the threat at the same time, if that makes sense.

^ Literally 100% you read my mind anon this has totally happened before, especially more in the early years of the two living together. You described this really well actually, and the way you described Beast's stance - ready for combat AND read to flee at a moments notice - is exactly how I picture it;; it's always ready to fight back and lash out, but moreso in that cornered way where it's obvious it also sorta wants to book it after getting enough hits in to where it'll be confident that whatevers after it Isn't Moving Towards It anymore.

I really don't have much to add to that scenario because you are literally so correct I am shaking you by the shoulders [positive tone] this is SO REAL RAAGH. Yeah ^_^

Honest to god yeah that's probably exactly how he ended up knowing. I think like I mentioned earlier, it's kinda a case of a bunch of little things adding up before they eventually tell him any details that help with understanding, but before that Dark definitely has his suspicions and it's totally because of Killer 😭 Unfortunately bro is NOT very subtle if they're not putting their focus into masking /j

It'd probably be something small and inconsequential and silly, really. Something simultaniously dumb as hell but also a massive show of trust, y'know? I'd have to think more on the details but I like to think that as Killer gets more comfortable, and more sure that they don't have to pretend to be Chosen to still be safe, they let go of the masking little by little, with small things - maybe a preference in food or drink here and there, or small comments about interests that they know are much too distinct from anything Chosen ever expressed liking before. It feels more natural the more they do it, before they eventually forget to mask around Dark, because it feels more comfortable to them being themselves.

Oh yeah for sure. 5 minutes at least, paired with that sorta laughy halfhearted apology for laughing, followed by the occasional snort or huff or laugh every few minutes after that whenever Dark thinks about it for the rest of the day. Killer is not mad at the laughing but they are in fact waiting for the day they can do the same towards Dark ☝ every day they hope he trips stupidly [JOKE]

3: Who was fronting during The Box? You mentioned Chosen during Wanted, and I'm assuming its either him or Killer during the beginning of the box. But once they realise they're trapped? When Chosen turns to Victim in the episode? I can see that being Beast. I know shifts aren't always easy to spot but if Beast was going to come in at any time, it was when they realised they were trapped.

You're pretty correct here; for a lot of The Box, it's primarily Chosen, though Beast is definitely doing the metaphorical "hovering ominously in the back" thing thanks to the chase and injury sustained during Wanted. It's not quite reaching the "feeling like their life is in danger" levels at this point, but it's close and Chosen is feeling very dizzy, thanks.

You're also very correct in your assessment that realizing they're trapped is what, primarily, causes Beast to switch in; collectively, they have a VERY bad history with being trapped or imprisoned. Honestly I feel like they're actually pretty claustrophobic - I don't really see anyone mention this too much, but when Chosen got caught by the firewall in AVA2, he LITERALLY gets locked up inside a little box. It's probably cramped and dark and obviously unbreakable. That 100% left an impact on him - and in this HC, his system as a whole never really escaped that being a triggering thing.

To Beast, it feels very obviously trapped - cornered and contained much like it had been when it first formed. To it, this isn't a fight to JUST protect, but a fight to save their life. It feels genuinely like that, even if it wont die here, it'll just be imprisoned all over again, chained down and used for anothers gain. And it wants anything BUT that. It will fight tooth and nail - quite literally, might I add - to get out of there, because it believes that the second it gives up it is over for them. It has no idea what Victim wants from it -- and so it defaults to that Victim wants to fully and entirely kill them.

4: Speaking again of the box, when they realise that they are NOT beating Victim, does someone elbow Beast out of the way? To try and escape? Because fighting has proven entirely futile? Or is someone co-conning (I assume that means co-conscious) with it and convincing it to pull away, since in the original post, Vic was talking to Beast while 'Chosen' was tied up on the chair

[You're right, co-conning is short for co-conscious ^^]

Honestly probably yes? For a good while it's still fighting back, or at the very least sticking around to take the brunt of whatever Victim is throwing at them - being a protector doesn't only mean physically, it also means mentally. Sometimes things may not hurt someone on the outside, but could wreck them on the inside, and they need someone more equipped with dealing with these things - or, more crudely, Used To dealing with these things - to take over.

When it becomes apparent that Beast cant fight its way out of this, someone - though I haven't really settled on who - definitely tries to front to try other methods of escape. Maybe it's Chosen, maybe it's Killer, honestly realistically they wouldn't even be able to tell either under all that stress. There's definitely someone giving passive-influence to try and escape though. Beast is determined to intimidate Victim, and to keep the others from having to experience anything rough, but... it's a bit hard to stick around when everything in your body - externally, and internally - is screaming for you to get the hell out of there, in one way or another. In short it's having an awful time and unfortunately the others are there for the ride /j

5: Beast comes out when they're trapped or in a fight for their life, but does it (and the others) have any positive triggers that will draw them out? I've heard of music being used, or toys, maybe also food? Idk, but if you have something in mind for these three I'm curious what it is

Oh yeah positive triggers can definitely happen with systems! At the end of the day they do still trigger out an alter so it can still be pretty disorienting at first, so I will say it's mostly [at least and my and my friends cases irl] only used either when we are completely okay with it [both system-wise and alter-wise] or when whoever's in front is having a rough time and kinda needs a break, but doesn't exactly want to stress anyone else out via a negative trigger, if that makes sense.

However comma ! That does not mean I can't give positive triggers to my little guys here. Because I do think they deserve good things.

You're right in that things like music, toys, and even food are really common ones, at least in my experience and from what I've seen. Sometimes it can also be certain people! It really varies quite a bit, so when developing a headcanon that relates to that, there's quite a bit of wiggle room lol

I think it'd be slightly different for these three depending on who it is;

Chosen would probably have some related to music, and maybe a more niche one related to welding. Music because I feel like he's the type of guy to get comfort from listening to songs he loves on loop, and welding because he probably heard the sound a lot while Dark was working in his little workshop, either on the Virabots or on other such projects. [Sidenote, welding as a sound is something I'm actually pretty fond of myself, but if anyone's not a big fan of the sound of sparking, or repetative "buzzing", you probably won't like it if you look it up lol. It's not too loud on video, but I can see how it'd get annoying or give someone a headache.]

Killer is definitely the more food oriented one in all honesty. Maybe even specific books it's read? Certain meals that it enjoys are primarily it though - maybe things that it's made with Dark that it has a positive association with? Or things that it's tried once or twice, REALLY loved, and ended up always snagging front when they eat it because of that association. That kinda thing lol.

Beast is... kinda tricky to think of actual positives for? Not because it doesn't enjoy anything - honestly I think it's the type to enjoy slow and relaxing activities that it doesn't need to put a lot of thought into. Moreso because it's hard to pin down anything that would actively trigger it out just to experience. I am open to suggestions here! But for now I'll probably have to leave it at just, if it has any, it hasn't found out what they are yet </3

6: Can they feel the emotions of the other alters? I'm guessing they can feel the emotions of whoevers fronting, because physical sensations, but if someone was fronting and the other two were hovering over their shoulder so to speak, would they be able to tell how they feel?

Unrelated to this question but I had no idea emotions were a physical sensation that people felt until like, a few months ago, like it was just baffling to me it's kinda funny now that I think abotu it.

ANYWAYS; honestly I'd say yes, to some degree! Passive influence is pretty common in a few systems - you'll probably hear it talked about similiarly to how you asked about it, along with people saying something like, for example, they couldn't decide what to order from a restraunt, but someone else in the system wanted [this meal], and thus there was that passive influence to get it. Not sure if that makes sense but that's basically what that can feel like - and since it applies to things like opinions sometimes, it can also presumably apply to emotions!

It'd be less of a "they can feel each others exact thoughts and feelings about this thing if they're co-conning" thing, and more of a, for instance, "Chosen doesn't have any real strong feelings about the show they're watching, but Killer on the other hand really likes it, so Chosen feels a bit of that secondhand enjoyment and positivity towards it." Sorta an ambigious background feeling if that makes any sense. They do share a brain and body after all, so sometimes things do get passed and shared that way. [This one is super projecty based off my own stuff lol, I cannot count the amount of times someones ended up passively influencing me on accident when we were stuck co-conning. It's almost comical /j]

Okay I think that's all once more, I started writing this literally as soon as you sent these in and it's been nearly 2 hours so I've probably talked your ear off [talked your... eyes out? How does that phrase translate into text. Much to think about ...] but once again literally thank you so much for being so curious, and it's really not an issue that you've sent such long asks!!!

I adore talking about this headcanon a lot. I've said it before but this HC means a lot to me as a system; we don't get a lot of representation [nevermind good representation] so a lot of the times I like to try and find a character I feel it would fit the best, and then delve into it there. This HC is very very special to me and has a very special place in my heart, so seeing not only so many people accepting and positive about it, but also your own massive curiosity and engagement, really makes me happy!

Plus, ever since I posted this HC ages and ages ago in the community I've seen a ton more pop up every once and a while. It does make me pretty happy to see HCs like this be so widely accepted and appreciated. Along with that, I've also seen other systems in the fandom get super excited about this HC!!! And I'm just so so so happy that my silly little headcanon about sticks in this guys head can make other people feel more seen. I think it's the highest compliment to anything I've ever made. :]

[scaramutual]

can you draw your s/i more i think they are really cute!!

anything for you anon

here are some REALLY old pics for all the scaramutual loremasters out there + all her old design iterations!

sorry xiao for stealing your emote

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Listen I love FL he's such a scrunkly hehehehe such a blorbo, very happy shapes for my neuro divergent brain

My wife has joked to some of our friends that she's 86% sure that I'm a cryptid because of various factors (from being able to see well in complete darkness without any issues, calming down feral animals by just talking to said animal for a minute, etc).

And I'm thinking about FL with a reader that has cryptid energy and thinks he's just the cutest little guy ever hehehe like they're pretty weird in their own regard but they have a lot of heart and somehow have befriended lots of creatures throughout the world (from the regisvines to hilichurls to weenuts to the mushroom creatures, they're all about making friends)

*claps hands* hoyoverse make a character who is friends with Abyss Mages in a wholesome way, do it!!

you and Childe would get along famously since you both have a mischievous streak- when he's not on the clock, of course. your favorite activity is popping out from the shadows when he least expects it, acting like you've been there the whole time when you definitely weren't! he also adores how you become friends with any creatures you run across, ranging from cats all the way to the monsters of the wilderness (he swore he once saw you using an Abyss mage as a pillow), so he's not worried about introducing you to Foul Legacy at all

Foul Legacy, on the other hand, IS worried- what if he's the exception, the one monster you find terrifying? he wants you to like him as much as he likes you!! so when Childe finally allows him to meet you, he instantly tries to lower his head so he appears more friendly, less intimidating. luckily his worries are for naught, because you think he's the cutest, most beautiful beast you've ever seen, laughing with delight and cupping his cheeks so you can plant a kiss on his forehead. now whenever you happen to see Foul Legacy you immediately run towards him, hoisting yourself onto his shoulders so you can mess with his hair and horns, putting little flowers that you found earlier in his ginger locks

you both give shiny rocks to each other as gifts :)

[boxwinebaddie]

Hi Uncle Neen! HYH! It sucks to see you struggling cuz you are a big inspiration of mine :( but you said you did your makeup the other day. Can we seeeeeeeeee maybe?

d'awwww ksahdlkdss, you are so sweet, nonnie! thank you so so soooo much, baby! xx i really needed this. i hope i heal ( i will...i have to, i am too much of an asshole to let god win, fuck him ) and i hope you heal from whatever harms you as well! you can do it! mWAH!~

-- also brb crying ;-; <3333 whenever y'all tell me i inspire you, it seriously makes me want to cry; you mean SO much to me, so to mean so much to you; it's Everything to me, my love. thank you for believing in me, know i believe infinitely in YOU and will keep fighting the good fight, living authentically and modelling pos behavior on this blog bc i take being a role model very seriously. :')

BUT ANYWAYS! sakhdlasd oh my god aaAaaAAAaa please!!! YOU ARE SO CUTE, THIS IS SO CUTE OF YOU, hELP AAAAA!!!!!! but yes, of course, of course. considering i am super bacteria nina right now and had to resign from my ( admittedly ) trash job and am no longer, at this moment, an education girlie ( besides on here, ofc, educating you on my two gay sons in love ), i can freely exist and post pictures of myself again! thank you for for giving me a safe place to do that. <3

i'll elaborate on what 'safe' means to me down below, but just for context i took this...sigh...last week, when i was told i would 'all better', just trying to feel like myself again after a month of being unmadeup and unfitted and ugly and troll-like and on death fucking row and fucking miserable as hell, i had my new hair appointment lined up, was about ready to take life by the balls again...and that shit BLUE BALLED ME SO HARD AND SAID *ravenstan vc* JK, BABY!

okay, sorry i have some really bad scarring and wounding up there by my neck so i had to cover her up but...there she is! the she beast!

as for posting pictures of myself just...please...PLEASE BE KIND. and i wish i meant that as a joke, i mean it very, VERY seriously. i am at a point right now, where i look my very fucking worst, i am weaker than i have ever been in my life, there are abrasions all over my body, which per the results of my culture ( i was right...several fucking times and no one would listen to me ) my body is trying to kill me and right now...it is Winning. ( i'm not gonna lose tho, dw, i am a nasty bitch from hell and i refuse to die this ugly, i fucking won't; choke )

tldr; I AM VERY VERY VERY SENSITIVE ABOUT HOW I LOOK. I DO NOT FEEL PRETTY, I AM LIKE ONE BAD COMMENT AWAY FROM TEARING THE SKIN OFF MY FACE AND I AM TELLING YOU GUYS I CANNOT DO THAT, I CANT CREATE ANY TEARING ON MY BODY OR THE BACTERIA WILL TUNNEL AND ITS HARD ENOUGH AS A BITCH WITH DERMATILOMANIA.

PLEASE BE NICE TO ME.

i know we shoot the shit on here and are funny and clown eachother, you guys are my family; it's what families do, but my boundary is that you can say i am pretty and be objectively kind or Please do not send me anything At ALL about how i look; i CANNOT take it rn. i know were just joking, but please, please, PLEASE Do NOT compare me to any ugly creatures, make me feel weird about any part of my face, tell me i look blurry, say anything is too big or too small…

please don’t meme on me abt my appearance...Ever.

it’s a very sensitive spot for me and makes me v anxious.

all this to say, i love you; thank you for being my home.

HYH.

-uncle nina, single ravesey mother and human petri dish

[savebylou]

hello!!! this is kind of a stupid message but i just wanted to say that you seem like a really nice and kind person.like seeing you talk to your mutuals and sending them asks and stuff is so nice to see cause youre always so so nice.i hope you have a good day/night/etc :))

Anon you and Ailo will make me cry with their lovely messages and this is not a stupid at all I love this.

I always try to be nice and kind (for the most part), that is so sweet of you to notice 😭🤧.

Omg you use my phrase amazing. Is night for me haha. But I hope you also have a good day/afternoon/night as well.

Thank you anon this was lovely to read and make me smile.

[crushedsweets]

Are you sure you haven't been drawing for multiple lifetimes? Because like your art is so good that I can imagine you being Renaissance Painter if you were born in the 1500sヾ(❀╹◡╹)ﾉﾞ❀~

Anon in honor of you Leaving me such a sweet ask I’m going to share with you the creepypasta self insert oc I made when I was 10 on ms paint in my living room computer. This is my 1500s renaissance art. This is the past lifetime you discuss. NOBODY REBLOG THIS ILL ACFUALLY DIE FROM EMBARASSMENT

[wexhappyxfew]

Okay but now I’m imagining Annie and Brady snuggled up together for warmth but then they start getting handsy 🤭

ANON I JUST SCREAMEDDDD!!!!!!!!

the way now that im convinced i have to write this as a continuation of whatever tf annie and brady were getting up to in the bunk when ya know they were just ~cuddling~ for ~warmth~. this absolutely needs to happen. it needs to be done.

im very much 👀👀👀 this ask. ya know. i think i have to write it no LMFAOOOO ANON I LOVE YOUUUUUU 🫶🫶🫶🫶