#just when you thought the angst couldnt get worse

[hoe4sports]

How this ends p2

|Part one| Part three | Part four

Message from the author: Hi babies, this took longer than expected. Part three coming soon.!Sorry, this is probably shit compared to the first part. Oh well, sometimes maybe good, sometimes maybe shit.

Warning: Angst

Summary: Mapi finds Alexia in a horrible state, but there is no comfort from Mapi.

-

Alexia found herself sat in the darkness of your her bedroom. Her physical state was horrible. Her mental state was somehow even worse. She resembled a homeless person more than herself. Her clothes were dirty. All of them actually because she hadn’t washed her own clothes ever, her mami washed them until she moved in with you. It was one of the things you took care of, that she took for granted. Her stomach felt like it was about to hop out of her body to slap her in the face for not eating. She hasn’t done any food shopping because for the last years, you had done all the groceries without her having to even think about it. You would always buy her favourite things, but she hasn’t considered why her credit card dispute was low each month. Yet another thing she took for granted, you paid the groceries. The apartment had a screaming need for a vacuum and some dusting. She hadn’t done chores since moving out. You managed all of those things. Just another thing she had taken for granted. The mail was sitting unready in her overfilled postbox. You had been taking care of the mail. Clean clothes showed up in her wardrobe, food was always available, fruits were always in sight, the apartment was always spotless and the mail were always taken care of. The guilt was eating her alive.

The first week after you left, she shut the feelings out. She focused on herself and her progress. Her captaincy demanded her to set a good example, so she showed up at practice. She did her drills, her conditioning and her strengthening. She pulled herself together and made sure to do her duties.

But she was fuelled by an underlying rage. Cursing herself for making the biggest mistake of her lifetime. The shield she had put up to protect herself from her own feelings had started cracking. Alexia then pushed harder. And harder. And even harder.

Her body pushed as hard as it possibly could until the world came crashing down on her a late Friday. The heartache that she had brought upon herself felt haunting. Like she was watching an avalanche bouldering down the mountain to get her. She couldn’t get away from the avalanche. She couldn’t hide her feelings from herself. The only thing she could do, was to wait for the avalanche to get her. And with that, she was forced to deal with the harsh reality of her actions by staring at the ghost of what once was her first love in the apartment.

Eli got worried when Alexia didn’t show up for the weekly family dinner, then she got even more worried when she showed up at your and Alexia’s apartment without anyone opening the door. Alba tried to comfort her as best as she could saying that Alexia probably was out with the team, feeling slightly guilty for taking her anger out by shaming your name. Alba had tried to reach out to you, without having much success.

Alexia couldnt for the life of her figure how she had managed to get herself into this position. She loved you. She still did. You were her first and only love. She would put you over football any day of the week. Always patient, understanding and loving. You never made a fuss about anything. You never let her down, you never forgot anything and you always prioritised her before you. You never put pressure on her and never had unrealistic expectations. Whenever she forgot important dates, you forgave her. That was just your nature. You were her peace.

-

Two weeks post break up, Alexia had been missing work for a week straight. The coach told the team that she was taking time off for “personal reasons”.

How ironical that what she thought was going to help her career, ended up hurting her even further.

Alexia found herself sitting in the bedroom. Her head couldn’t bear to stay in any room longer than 5 minutes. She didn’t get groceries, and she was living out on whatever you had placed in the freezer earlier. She was sitting in the bed staring at a picture frame. The picture was her favourite picture of you, from Alba’s wedding. Her in her suit and you in a pink bridesmaids dress. She touched your face hoping to feel some familiarity, some sense of comfort but there were none. It was cold. A tear started running down her cheek and she leaned back into the bed as she started into the ceiling feeling emptier than ever. It felt like her world had stopped turning. Her heart hurt so bad that she felt like there was something physically wrong with her. Her head was spinning.

Alexia found herself in a position that she had been in more times that one since you left. Tears were steaming down her face and her sobs were increasing. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she could stop feeling. It was exhausting to have all of these feelings running around like a pack of wild horses. But then, her cries were soon stopped by knocking on the frontdoor.

“Hola, Alexia!»

«Mierda» Alexia mumbled under her breath. She knew that voice. It was Mapi. And Mapi wasn’t the type of persona to leave. She gave it her best shot as she held her breath.

“Alexia! I know that you are home! So open up before I break in por favor”

Alexia got up from the bed and wrapped herself in your favourite blanket. A pink fuzzy blanket with red hearts. A blanket she praised the gods for that you didn’t take with you. She brushed through her hair with her bare hands hoping to look more presentable, before stomping herself to the front door.

“ALEXIA! Sé que estás en casa!” Mapi yelled again, but this time slightly annoyed.

Alexia swung the door up, and Mapi’s jaw dropped in shock. Alexia looked like a train wreck. Like a ghost of herself.

“Que?” Alexia said with an annoyed look on her face while squinting her eyes.

“Ai, Alexia, what happened to you! You look horrible” Mapi exclaimed, still in shock. We eyes wide. Alexia rolled her eyes to her before grabbing the door to close it.

“Adios, Maria” she mumbled. Her hand grabbed the door handle and pushed it close. But her action was blocked by the length of Mapi’s foot.

“I’m coming in” Mapi said pushing past Alexia moving towards the couch. Alexia sighed before closing the door. All she wanted, was to be left alone to cry. To figure herself out. But, Mapi had other plans.

Mapi sat down in the couch and patted the seat next to her. Alexia slowly crept towards the couch before sitting down a bit further from Mapi, then Mapi had initiated. Alexia could feel the lecture incoming.

“Are you sick?”

“No”

“Are you injured?”

“No”

“Is Y/N sick or injured?”

Alexia’s eyes started tearing up. She couldn’t speak. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have the strength within her to yell. All her emotions were spread out across her body and she couldn’t keep it in even if she had tried.

"Is she sick? did she have a miscarriage?? Why didn’t you tell me!! I would’ve brought over Ing-” Mapi said in shock before being cut off by Alexia. Her and Ingrid, had experienced a miscarriage earlier, and there was nobody that understood you better than Ingrid.

“She isn’t sick, Mapi. I broke up with her…”

Mapi sat completely dumbfounded in the couch unable to process what she just heard. She didn’t want to believe her own ears. Her eyes widened even further and her jaw was practically on the floor.

“You did WHAT now? Come again??”

“I..ugh.. I broke up with her”

Alexia looked to the ground staring at her toes, embarrassed of her own actions.

“Alexia, after 13 years a; it’s not breaking up anymore. It’s practically a divorce.”

The words hurt Alexia more than she could imagine. It felt like someone had pulled all the air out of her lungs depriving her of Oxygen. She hadn’t thought of it like this. She had planned to ask you to marry her, but it ended up being postponed because of the World Cup. Just like everything else; the kids, the house and even the second cat you had begged her for. There was nothing Alexia regretted more than not letting you get a second cat. Hell, she wanted you to have all the cats in the world if that meant that you would come back to her. Alexia nodded while she sniffed. She hadn’t thought of it this way.

“Si, Mapi. I was so dumb, it is the dumbest decision I have ever made. And now, she’s gone for good”

Mapi and Alexia sat in the couch in silence. Mapi’s eyes wandered around the room. She could just now see the state of Alexia’s million dollar apartment. It looked like a garbage truck had exploded in there. The decor, your books, and all of the pictures you had put up if you, Alexia and your family from back home was gone. You had even taken the picture of your cat with you. She looked at Alexia and saw how Alexia’s eyes looked dull. Her face was puffy and her skin was red.

“Can I ask why? Did you fight? Did she..cheat?”

Alexia took a quick breath in. You would never cheat, and Alexia didn’t understand why. You had waited for 13 years for something she promised you years and years ago. Alexia wouldn’t have waited for anyone for that long. Mapi raised her eyebrow at Alexia expecting a damn good explanation.

“I thought that she was using me, distracting me from work, distracting me from getting better. She asked me to stay more at home and spend time with her..”

Mapi’s eyes widened again while lifting her hands up in the air.

“Are you delusional? Ai, she loved you even before you had money and fame! Alexia, she asked for your time? A just good enough woman would demand. She is more than a good woman. She is perfect, Alexia. Anyone would be honoured to have her in their life”

Alexia nodded quietly feeling like she was getting scolded by Mapi. But, inside her Alexia knew that it was well deserved. After what felt like hours of silence, Alexia shrugged her shoulders to Mapi’s dismay.

“Do you love her?”

“Mapi, it’s not that easy”

“Si,Alexia! It is!”

“Maria..”

Mapi raised her eyebrow, she felt like her head was about to explode. The fame really had ended up going straight to Alexia’s head. But, the damage was already done.

“I don’t even recognise you, anymore.”

“Please Mapi, don’t say that”

Mapi shot her a look. They had known each other since they were teenagers.

“But I don’t, Alexia. After the fame? If somebody showed me who you are more now back when we were 15, I would’ve never believed them. You are a shadow of yourself.”

Alexia’s eyes teared up. Mapi’s words were exactly what she needed to hear. But it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. The words felt like gunshots running through her heart.

“How, how do I make this right?”

Alexia furrowed her brows while her tears rolled down her face; Mapi got up from the couch before moving towards the door. She crossed her arms before the corners of her lips curved downwards.

“I’m not sure you can”

[hannieehaee]

hi! i hope u are doingg greattt! can u please do a wonwoo fic about when u get into an accident while ur husband!wonwoo was on a tour????????plzzzz do this fic and a happy endingg plzzzz

content: husband!wonwoo, idol!wonwoo, established relationship, gender neutral reader, angst, mentions of an accident, mentions of hospital, (tw for car accident implications), fluff, happy ending, etc.

wc: 1188

a/n: thank u for requesting!! sorry i took a lil while to get to it T-T

masterlist

wonwoo had never felt such fear in his life. i mean, how else was he supposed to react to such an unpredictable situation?

last he had spoken to you had been only three hours ago. on the phone. he had bid you goodbye for the night, letting you know he was about to go on stage and that he'd call you the next morning due to your time differences. he knew you'd be going home from work and head straight to sleep, so he didnt want you to feel like you had to wait up for him as he finished his never-ending setlist.

the next thing he knew, he was walking into the backstage area once more, exhausted but ready to head back to the hotel. except his plans had been interrupted by his manager, who pulled him aside to give him the grim news.

you had gotten on an accident on your way home. there were no more details at the moment. something about your best friend calling wonwoo from the hospital, but his manager had picked up, not understanding much from your friend's frantic rambles. wonwoo's heart immediately dropped at the implication. an accident could mean anything. it had happened on your way home, so that couldve implied a car accident .. wonwoo couldnt breathe anymore. the more he thought, the more his heart raced. his breath became heavy at the bare thought of you scared and alone while at home, not having your husband by your side.

he had been having fun on stage with his best friends while you had gotten hurt. there was no way for him to forgive himself for not being with you right now. he called your phone over and over as he ran to his assigned car, not even caring to change out of his concert ensemble. in the meantime he had his manager book him a flight to you immediately, not giving a second thought to any repercussions to his absence.

it took him a while to receive a response from you, or well, your best friend. she had called from your phone, letting him in on more details of your accident. wonwoo couldnt help but let out a sigh of relief at the news. you were okay. you were alive. you had swerved too harshly in order to avoid a deer that had gotten in your way, which caused the car to crash against a tree. the hood of the car was destroyed beyond reparation, but you had been left injured, but almost unscathed past a few broken bones. it was a broken arm, a broken collarbone, and a few scratches (re: a ton), but it was manageable. he would still dote to you until you healed, but he was just extremely content that you were okay.

regardless of your state, wonwoo still insisted on flying out to you. according to your best friend, you were still passed out. fortunately for wonwoo, his flight would take him to you within five hours, meaning you'd likely be awake by the time he got to you. his heart couldnt help but continue to race for you. the scare was still fresh in his mind, and the thought that he wouldve been away from you had it been something worse made him want to repent.

somehow he managed to fall asleep during the flight, only to be awoken by his manager the moment the plane landed. thankfully, it had been an unplanned flight, which meant wonwoo had the luxury of no one awaiting him at the airport. he had covered himself up – a bucket hat and a face mask sufficed to get him to where he needed to be with no recognition. he made the trip as quick as possible, feeling an instinctual need to be by your side.

after some very inconvenient paperwork, he made it to your room, standing outside as he pondered as to why he was scared to go in. you were fine. and probably even awake by now. but he couldnt help but think: it had taken him a total of seven hours to get to you. if anything ever happened to you, his idol schedule would always get in the way. your husband was not truly a husband. he was always away, always prioritizing his work and his fans, unable to tend to you in such moments. he always knew you'd be better off with someone who partook a more conventional career, but moments like this truly proved his theory.

even now, he felt like a terrible partner. he was pitying himself instead of checking on you. the realization made him shake his head at his own thoughts, forcing them away as he walked in. any thinking prior to that moment had been useless, as his heart became swollen with adoration the moment he saw you look up at the door, smiling as soon as your eyes landed on him. you didnt pay mind to your injuries, sitting up and extending your healthy arm towards him to draw him in.

he couldnt help but fall into your arms, doing his best to avoid any broken bones as he held you against him. he was aware that some of his body weight was above you, but you wouldnt let him pull away to readjust. you wanted him in your arms as much as he did you.

damn any insecurities wonwoo had. he'd be selfish and keep you to himself. if he had to exhaust himself through hours of travel to get to you, he would. or even better, he'd take you with him from now on. be damned anything that tried to get in the way of him and his love.

"my love ..."

"dont worry, nonu. im fine! it was just a freak accident. you didnt have to come, but ... fuck, im so happy you're here," you rambled as soon as you pulled away, still keeping him sitting on the bed as you leaned as close to him as possible.

"ill always come, you know that," he paused, "you scared the fuck out of me, i ... that call. ive never been more terrified. im sorry i wasnt here, im sorry i-"

"wonwoo, no! i understand. i cant believe you flew all the way to see me even if its just a few broken bones. im sorry i scared you."

his hand made its way to your cheek, caressing it gently as he smiled sweetly at you, "dont apologize. ill take a million scares if it means you're okay. i ... is it okay if i stay? i want to take care of you. actually, no, i dont care if its too much, i- i need to be by your side. can i?"

"yes. you dont have to ask, i always want you here."

"good. ill take you home with me as soon as you're discharged. never letting you out of my sight again."

"what about tour, you-"

"shh. ill take care of it. you're my priority. ill take care of you, okay? i love you."

"i love you more, nonu."

he let yet another sigh of relief at those five words, knowing that as soon as he heard those words, he'd be okay. you'd both be okay.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Journals (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: new realisations and hauntingly beautiful words

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2059

Warnings: heavyyyy angst, mental health issues, depression, feeling unworthy of love, panic attack, self harm (alluded to), self hate. thats all i can think of right now, but let me know if i need to add anything

A/n: based on old poetry by @garden-of-runar 🤭i had reblogged them to my drafts on a side blog that i dont use at all, so i couldnt reblog them on my main, but i have put them in the fic, so ig that works🤷🏻‍♀️ also, if i ever write a part 3 (which i might based on feedback) azzie would be the love interest <3

ALSO MY GIRLIE IS SO TALENTED DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED I LOVE THESE POEMS 🥹

(im also tagging people who asked for a part two hope u dont mind <3)

anyways, enjoyyyy!!

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lying on the ground, despite how it hurt her joints sometimes, was one of Y/n’s favourite pastimes. Maybe because sometimes she did not have the energy to crawl into her bed, but that was not the point.

They hate you.

The hardness of the wood panels was oddly comforting, the way the grains sometimes raised enough for her to feel them with her fingers, the soft creaking when she stepped on them. It reminded her that she was here, that she was alive. That she was getting what she deserved for being so pathetic.

The soft mattress did not give her the same level of comfort. Sure, it was warm and cozy, but did she deserve it?

No.

You deserve this.

You deserve the worst.

Y/n sniffled, lying on her side as she lifted her hand higher next to her, dragging her nails down the planks, the feeling overwhelming in itself but better than not feeling anything. She watched her fingers jerk with the motion, pale and bloodless.

She could feel her tears collecting in a pool and seeping under her cheek. She glanced at the foot of the bed in front of her.

It looks so majestic from down here.

Do people who are worse off think the same way about me?

I don’t want them to. Because I am not worth being thought of like that.

I am nothing. I am pathetic.

It became harder and harder to take in a breath from her nose, as it continued to grow clogged from all her sobbing.

It was one of her least favourite things about crying.

Pathetic.

Stop it!

You’re pathetic. Crying over nothing.

You don’t deserve anything good.

The thoughts kept echoing in her head, louder and louder. She couldn’t breathe any longer.

And it was not because of anything physical.

Her chest began to constrict, forcing her lungs to let out precious air. She tried to breathe it back in, desperately wishing to cling to any remnants of oxygen like a child clinging to its mothers skirts.

Please. Just one inhale.

Her throat tightened.

Just one.

She gasped, futilely trying to breathe one last time to breathe before she knew she would collapse, faint because of the lack of air in her body. It gave her some reprieve, and her eyes focused back to the bed.

The longer she stared at it, the more drowsy she became. Her eyelids were drooping, and she finally, finally decided that maybe letting herself submit to her body’s needs wouldn’t be too bad, if it meant that the thoughts would stop. Maybe if she gave in to the tiredness in her bones after hours of sobbing, her mind would stop being so cruel.

Maybe it would take pity on her.

Maybe.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"We should go out tomorrow!"

Y/n smiled a little. A rare smile that only recently had begun showing on her face.

It wouldn’t be considered a real smile. But it was still there on her face. The tilt of her lips.

We. Not me. We.

They wanted her to be present too.

Cassian jumped up, looking at Y/n with a grin. "I always wanted to take Y/n out to Rita’s."

Her smile grew.

The other members talked, making plans for tomorrow. Slowly, the conversation spiralled, as it always did between them all.

Azriel leaned close to Y/n, whispering jokes in her ear that made her giggle. Rhysand sat on the same couch as Cassian, fighting like children. Mor sat next to Amren, amusement shining in her eyes as she added fuel to the fire, while Amren looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

They talked well into the night, politics, food, court gossip bleeding into one another as the time trickled by.

But the moment the conversations wandered into their future, Y/n’s smile faded. She wondered, would they want her to stay in their life?

She didn’t have to wonder long, as the words they uttered were enough to give her peace.

They talked of vacations, of parties and new traditions. Of getting married, of being with their partners. Of celebrating lives and years and months, of celebrating ends and new beginnings.

They talked, and included her.

They talked in ‘we’s’. Not in ‘me’s’.

And that was enough for her little heart to be happy.

For it to heal, for the blood to return to her face.

For her to smile, free and unbidden.

But then, time passed. And just like the sand in an hourglass trickles away, so do all good things.

As she watched, the scene changed from only housing six people in the living room, to adding three more members. And slowly, she was pushed out.

And they began talking in ‘me’s’.

Some ‘we’s’, but it never meant Y/n.

No, it meant them. Them and their partners.

It meant Feyre and Rhysand. Their new lives and baby.

It meant Cassian and Nesta. Their new mating bond and blooming love.

It meant Azriel and Elain. Their growing infatuation.

Y/n doubted the infatuation had ended, as Azriel no longer sat next to Elain at dinners. Lucien’s visits to Velaris had increased too.

But everyone’s visits to Y/n and their thoughts about her had decreased. No one seemed to remember her existence.

And she deserved it.

They chatted among themselves, and the armchair she sat on vanished from under her, leaving her standing knee deep in the freezing snow. Watching from the outside as the warm interior that had seemed so welcoming just a moment ago turned into a nightmare.

Her worst nightmare.

It left her whimpering, leaving her to curl on the cold ground.

All alone, just like she deserved.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It was almost sunset, and finally, Rhysand had built up the determination to read the damned journal.

He walked downstairs, peering into the living room before stepping in front of it.

Mor had departed after Y/n had left, tears in her eyes. Azriel and Cassian had been sitting in the living room for the whole two hours since then, staring into space, looking haunted and horrified at the way they hadn’t realised what was going on with their friend. Amren too, sat in an armchair in the corner, looking as unbothered as ever. But Rhys saw the cracks. The shifting eyes, the too hard hold on the book she held in her lap, the downward tilt of her lips more pronounced.

"I think it’s time we read the journal."

Four sets of eyes shot up to his figure.

"Are you sure, Rhys?" Cassian mumbled, standing up uncertainly.

Rhys nodded. "It is the only option we have."

Azriel sighed, mirroring Cassian’s movements and moving closer to Rhysand.

Feyre perked up. "What is going on Rhys?"

He clenched his jaw, guilt and regret festering in his gut. He had been so busy in his newfound happiness, so wound up in enjoying every moment with his mate that he had forgotten family. He had forgotten her to the extent his mate didn’t even know what the slight tang of copper in the air meant.

"Nothing, Feyre." He mumbled, turning away.

"Elain was asking-"

"Tell her to stop asking, then." Rhysand froze at the coldness in Azriel’s voice, his eyes going wide. Azriel never used that tone of voice with anyone outside of work, let alone Feyre.

Feyre stepped back, her calves hitting the couch as she stared at her friend in shock. "Az?"

Azriel pushed past Rhysand, making his way towards his study where the journal sat, looking as frustrated and unapologetic as ever.

After a shared glance, Rhysand and Cassian followed, Amren hot on their heels.

Azriel was already seated in one of the chairs at Rhysand’s mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on the journal that lay in the middle, his jaw clenched. He seemed to be the most affected, and Rhys only had the faintest idea why.

The four of them sat in waiting until Mor finally arrived, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she sniffled lightly as she came to stand next to Cassian.

"Rhys, do we really have to read it? It will be an invasion of privacy."

Rhys swallowed. Thought it over. "We don’t really have a choice, do we? We need to figure out the root of this. She won’t tell us if we ask, we know that. Plus, she might already be way down the path of another breakdown after what happened today."

"That is why I think that instead of sitting around on our arses," Azriel ground out, "we should go and check up on her."

Rhys raised a brow, though concern festered in his gut. "Azriel, we’ve been through this before. She will feel worse about herself, thinking she inconvenienced us."

A muscle feathered in Azriel’s jaw, but he said nothing.

And so they began reading.

Rhysand opened a random page, his breath catching at the sudden tang of copper, and began reading. As he stared at the words before speaking them aloud, he remembered seeing the exact poem in a book he recommended to Y/n over fifty years ago.

Forgotten.That is my nameThat is the path I walkIt has been so longI don’t remember what it is like to be seenAnd I spill, my tears lining the path to the woods where my body lies,Forgotten.- from GardenofRunar

Instantly, Rhysand’s blood ran cold. He leaned back, exhaling. The pages were decorated in flowers and hearts, tiny little clouds and doodles in the margins so at odds with the thoughts spilled onto them like a hauntingly beautiful scenery.

At this point, Cassian and the others had moved to peer over Rhys’s shoulder. Rhys watched as Cassan reached over to turn the page with a shaky hand, pulling it back almost instantly as if the page had burned him. There, just above the words was a small handful of doodles, and he knew the small figures resembled the inner circle before Rhys had been taken under the mountain.

The poem was more a letter than anything, except it contained so few letters but thy hit everyone with a guilt so hard it was almost like a mountain fell onto them.

So like Y/n, to say so less yet still make an impact.

I didn’t forget about you.Can you say the same for me?Don’t bother.I know the answer.-GardenOfRunar

Under the poem, were a few words.

The poet is so talented. Every poem of them I read, it makes me want to sob.Maybe because I relate to these. Maybe that’s why.

Quiet sniffles came from Mor, but Rhys turned another page. It was the first page where blood began dotting the corners, a few drops on the center of the page veining out towards the edges, as if trying to exit but being unable to.

The almost poeticness of the sight was not lost on them. The blood droplets were almost like Y/n, trying to escape a cruel mind but unable to.

My friends are living lives, and I’m trudging through a million little days,Wasting away.- GardenofRunar

A hand snaked towards the book, slamming it shut. Rhysand jumped, his eyes flying to the owner of the scarred hand that appeared.

"Enough." His voice was still, quiet, but so cold it could freeze even the summer court over. And Rhysand knew. He was blaming himself for not paying attention to Y/n.

Rhys nodded, feeling guiltier by the second.

Everyone went back to their places, sitting in silence. Contemplating.

Wondering how they had become so oblivious to the point that they couldn’t see what was right in front of them the entire time.

The regret, the sadness was heavy in the air. It was getting hard to breathe it in.

Finally, Azriel stood, grabbing the book.

Then he turned, and walked out the door without a word, his wings pulled tight against his back.

And Rhysand wondered again.

Was this just some friendly concern, some self blame, or something else entirely?

Needless to say, suspicion took root. But guilt and hate overwhelmed it once more, and the family was left to sit and roil in it.

To wonder, how could they have been so busy that they ignored such an important part of them?

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

(ps. the first part in the memories/dreams Y/n has is based off this poem

You talk in ‘we’s’ Not ‘me’s’ And it heals my heart, just a little. Puts a smile on my face, just a little. You talk about a future One with me in it And I feel the color Return to my face. Just a little. - Runar

)

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[haechoxo]

[10:35 am]

haechan's apartment was a mess. empty takeout containers littered the coffee table, clothes were strewn across the floor, and the air was thick with the scent of stale beer. he hadn’t expected any visitors, let alone you.

he had spent the morning trying to shake off the anxiety from his late-night confession, his mind replaying every word he had said to you. he was expecting a phone call, dreading and hoping for it all at once. when a knock echoed through the cluttered apartment, his heart leaped into his throat.

he stumbled to the door, tripping over a pair of sneakers on his way. swinging it open, he was met with the sight of you standing there, looking as unsure as he felt.

“i—” you started, then faltered, your rehearsed words suddenly elusive. “i said i’d call, but i thought... maybe we should talk in person.”

he stepped aside, motioning for you to come in. “uh, yeah, yeah. come in. sorry about the mess.”

you walked into his apartment, glancing around. it was a mess–but it was so very haechan. he looked at you, clearly embarrassed, scratching the back of his head and blushing furiously.

“i, um, wasn’t expecting company,” he admitted, trying to tidy up a bit.

“n-no, it’s okay, i didn’t give you a warning…” you were just as shy as him right now. “i think i’ve seen worse anyway.” you giggle, easing the tension a bit.

“can i get you something?” he asked, his voice awkward and hesitant. “water, coffee?”

you shook your head, mumbling a soft ‘no thanks’, as you took a seat on the couch.

haechan sat down across from you, the silence between you heavy. you took a deep breath, finally getting to the point, “i thought about what you said last night.”

he perks up in his seat a bit, eyes flickering with hope, “y-yeah?”

“i… i want to make it clear first, we can’t just—forget any of it happened,” he deflates, “the hookups, the dates that weren’t dates, our fights too.”

“r-right…” he hopes you can’t see that he’s about to cry again.

“but, we were friends before all of that. you were my best friend… a-and i don’t want to lose that either.”

“i don’t want to lose you either i–” he sighs, frustrated with himself, “i let things get so far out of hand, i won’t ever stop making it up to you for as long as you let me, y/n.”

your cheeks tinge with a blush at his words, “yeah you were stupid,” he genuinely laughs at this, “but i probably shouldn’t have agreed to your ‘proposal’ the first time it happened, i told myself it would be a one time thing, but then one turned into two, and two turned into three years. i agreed because i trusted you, because i liked you.”

haechan’s eyes widen, “liked?”

“well—i still do, i mean why else would we be here, but that’s besides the point!” you quickly try to avert the topic from your silly schoolgirl crush.

“if you’re serious about me, as you say, i can forgive you. if we start over.”

“start over?” seriously, how dense can he be.

“no more hookups, hyuck.” you deadpanned

“oh! right, of course, so… you mean, we can go out on a real date, for real?” you’d laugh at how endearing it sounded if he wasn’t so serious.

some things don’t change.

“well—no.”

“oh.”

“i wanna just… go back to being friends—for now.” you stated softly.

“yeah… yeah that makes sense.” he looks like a kicked puppy, you could almost laugh.

“it’s not forever, hyuck,” a breathy laugh leaves your lips, “just until things are back to normal, when we– heal? i guess, from what happened these past few weeks.”

he nods, “so… just friends?”

“just friends.”

haechan looks visibly relieved, content with the current status of your relationship with him, he wouldn’t mind you keeping him at arms length, so long as you were keeping him at all.

“so... can you tell renjun to unblock me on twitter now?”

sigh.

previous - next

a/n ; APOLOGIES FOR THE LATE UPDATE💔,, i was unfortunately busy yesterday and couldnt stay locked up in my room 😔 and writing a “reconciliation” type of scene was so much more difficult than the angst… like this was a genuine challenge for me… BUT… only one more chapter after this…😰 im thinking of all the little bonus text chapters and silly blurbs i can make but only if u guys would wanna see those so lmk!! ik this isnt the best, i feel like i am better suited for angst, but lmk what u think! advice is always appreciated! xoxo jelly

[floppydiskettess]

VALORANT AGENTS REACTING TO THEIR S/O GETTING INJURED ON A MISSION

featuring - sage, killjoy, cypher, yoru, sova, gekko, viper

a/n : cyphers part contains a lot of angst and alcohol talk. i couldnt let it ALL be fluff 😋

✮~ Sage ~✮

literally the sweetest ever, but this doesn't need to be said

if its a minor injury, she will definitely be giving you a talk about being safer and how to prevent that from happening

"but what if it was something more serious? something even I couldn't heal? you must be more careful angel."

if her s/o was harmed badly, she would do two things.

one, she would immedietely drop everything and rush towards healing you, this woman will stay up all night trying to heal you and make sure that there is not so much as a scratch left on your body. she would definitely overwork herself but making sure you are alright is all that matters.

two, the second you are stable and resting, she is going to find out whichever enemy agent hurt you and fuck. them. up.

im talking full battle sage, she will have no mercy if the injury they caused was threatening enough.

she may excude sweet and kind energy but she is one scary lady when the people she loves are harmed

she knows exactly how damaged a body must be for it to be unfixable.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be there my dear, but they won't be hurting you again."

she will be watching you carefully, even asking brimstone to take you off of missions for a short time or asking him to keep an eye on you.

she doesn't know what she would do if she lost you..

☻︎~ Killjoy ~︎︎☹︎

she blames herself, how could she not? she designed most of the stuff...it must be a error in her inventions.

she will work night and day trying to figure out what happened. was it a weapon error? did the gun she designed for you malfunction? oh no was she to blame for anyone elses injuries?!

it would take a lot of reassurance for her to calm down. after all, this wouldn't have happened if she had been more careful...right?

"Mein gott...you scared me. I thought I lost you schatzi..."

she is going to be by your side after sage discharges you from her infirmary. expect lots of physical affection (if your comfortable with it.) and care.

she will treat you as if you were glass about to break. you will not be doing any chores while you recover.

oh you need to work on a mission report? its already finished and submitted. you are hungry? she would cook a lovely meal her parents would make her when she was sick. (with the help of some other agents...shes probaly not a great cook lets be honest..)

"KJ...Sage gave me the all clear! I can do it!"

" Nein nein! You are going to rest mein Häschen! I don't want you straining yourself!"

♖~ Cypher ~♖

if you get injured, be it minor or major. this man will WORRY.

he already lost everything, he cannot lose you either. if he did...he would have nothing.

when sage showed up at his door covered in blood and bruises. he knew something went wrong.

you told him you were going on a small mission. just an in and out radianite extraction at an abandoned lab. he had no reason to worry...right?

when he heard what had happened, he was devastated. what was supposed to be a quick mission turned out to be a setup. what makes it worse? you were alone at your site.

he will be thinking the worst. what if you...? if he had only done a more detailed check on the lab...maybe he could have protected you. but he didn't. he feels like he failed.

you spend weeks in the recovery bay, lying unconcious.

he spends those weeks without you in his lab drinking the memories away and trying to figure out what happened.

he just cannot function with the thought of losing you at the back of his mind at all times.

he knows he was caught when viper appears at his doorway with a concerned glare and a solemn looking sage in tow. he can't remember most of it, but viper was worried? about him?

soon he was also transported to sages infirmary. getting put on nutrients and oxygen. it was obvious he was not taking care of himself without your presence

when you wake up, he would be right there cradling your cheek with his hand. his mask nowhere in sight. all that matters was that you were safe now

"يا حياتي..i was so scared i lost you"

he will never forget his past, but he looks forward to his future with you.

can you tell i like cypher guys :)

☁︎~ Yoru ~☁︎

do not even get me started on this man

he would be extremely angry.

but is it at you, the others, or maybe himself?"

upon hearing the news, he would immediately check on you. seeing your unconcious body just makes something in him snap. the thought that someone had done this to you...he plants a soft kiss to your temple, before storming out of the infirmary.

for the next few days, he would lash out at everyone around him. sage came around to bring him some food as he had not left his room and he just...lost it.

he wasn't even sure who he was yelling at, who he was blaming for what happened. poor sage looked petrified and the others seemed to gather the idea yoru didn't want to be talked too right now.

with no word from anybody about your condition, he lay down on his bed and cried numbly. every night he would teleport into where sage had kept you to heal. he would sit in silence staring at your asleep face before always kissing your forehead goodbye. in hopes that somehow, you would wake up.

he went to your room and grabbed some sweaters of yours, every night he slept with them for comfort, clinging onto them as if they were going to leave him too.

when you wake up, he won't care about keeping his mysterious "badass" persona up. he will be at your side holding your hand and crying.

"please be more careful 私の日光...i don't know what i would do if i lost you."

when sage discharges you, he will be glued to you. he will simple little things for you (such as opening doors for you.)

his love language is definitely acts of service

if you teased him about this though, he will never admit to it.

he will be doing simple things such as cooking meals, cleaning up, and helping you finish any work you have

he is so domestic

he may not be super outwardly affectionate, but with each small favour he does for you he is putting all of his love into it.

𖦹~ Sova ~𖦹

sova is literally the most caring boyfriend...like ever..

if its a minor injury, he will treat it (if sage and skye are off on a mission).

he will definitely lightly scold you, not to be mean! just because he hates seeing you hurt and in pain.

"ангел. please be more careful next time..you know i hate seeing you upset."

if it was a major injury though, he is relatively the same.

he isn't scared to cry infront of the others, when he gets the news that your mission went south he was crying into sages shoulder.

he would stay with you the entire recovery. sage had to keep kicking him out at nighttime but eventually she realized she couldn't stop him. she simply would bring meals for him whenever he would forget to eat.

he would sit and tell you about his day, how the missions were going, even the silly schenanigans that the younger agents were pulling

"yoru tried to get revenge on phoenix for his prank but it went so bad ангел. he entered his rift and jumped out to scare him, but reyna happened to have just been passing by! she was absolutely livid родная. i have never seen our dear riftwalker so terrified!" he chuckled

when you woke up, he was still there lightly snoring against the chair sage had brought him.

when he woke up, he was thrilled, his eyes immediately lighting up like a childs

"have you been sitting here the whole time?"

"of course my dear. as if i would leave you."

߷~ Gekko ~߷

as the newest agent, he hasn't known you for very long. your relationship was coming up to a few months old but he hadn't told you how much he loved you yet.

so naturally, when he heard you were injured he was terrified

he knew this job was dangerous! he just never thought it would be you getting injured...he also never really thought of anyone getting badly injured

he was training with harbour when he overheard a mission going wrong...a mission you were on.

he would rush to the infirmary overloading sage with questions about you

"Sage!! Finally...que pasó?? Neon told me something happened on the mission?!"

Appariently, you had gotten caught in a fight with the enemy Breach and he hit you with his aftershock.

He didn't know much about Breach, but he knew that man had quite a bit of strength in his abilities (being like...bionic you know?"

After some skillful and strategic convincing (pathetic and annoying begging) Sage agreed to take him to see you.

When he caught sight of you lying in the bed staring up at the ceiling, he let out a big sigh he didn't even know he was holding.

"Mi sol! Oh mierda I was so worried! What happened?"

He would be sitting patiently listening to you explain what happened. All while staring at you softly.

"Shooottt...sounds like you had a busy mission! I am just happy you made it back cariño."

☠︎︎~ Viper ~ ☠︎︎

if you were minorly injured, it was probably from tinkering with her poison vials and one leaked onto your fingers

after hearing your grunt in pain, she turns around and her eyes widen, rushing towards you.

"Idiot, I said not to touch anything!"

she swears under her breath before wiping it away and rubbing some sort of cream onto your hand

"Honestly..who would touch something containing poison WITHOUT protection?"

her biggest fear? her poison causing you harm.

so what if a mission were to go wrong and you happened to step into a bubble of her poison?

it was a genuine wrong place wrong time situation. she had a poison bubble deployed and sitting on the ground, as she activated it she looked up to see your frame walking overtop of it.

she shouts to get you to move, but you don't hear her in time. next thing she knows, you are on the ground out cold with green and purple lines all over your face.

she quickly would call for backup, holding you tight but trying to avoid the chemical burns.

when she is back to safety, she rushes to sage's infirmary with your barely warm body in her arms

unfortunately, the poison had seeped into some open wounds you had. causing it to spread throught your body. viper leaves sage alone to do her job, pacing back and forth outside.

she knew how strong her poison could be, but she also knew how strong your body was. you would survive. you had too.

after a few hours, a tired sage walks out and nods, signaling it went well.

viper rushed into the room and immediately looked at your sleeping face, wincing at the fading bloodshot lines on your face.

"i'm so sorry love..please wake up soon"

she would wait by your side holding your hand and occasionally planting soft kisses to the back of your hand.

she knew you would be ok, but she couldn't help but feel bad that her miscommunication and carelessness caused this to happen to you.

when you wake up, she would be whispering soft apologies into your ear

"i promise...you will never feel this pain again my dear."

a/n : holy shit guys!!!! this took a while!! i spent a good 4 hours writing all this JDJSBSJSKSKSN its probably cringe im sorry

but yeah! i tried my best to write this with a gender neutral reader in mind but in some of these its definitely a bit more fem reader leaning! also i do not speak any of the languages spoken in this so if i made a mistake or used something wrong PLEASE let me know so I can fix it!!!

[leaentries]

out of line | nico hischier

summary: when his girl finds the ring, it doesn’t end like he had hoped.

warnings: mostly angst, swearing, this does have a happy ending (im sorry i couldnt leave my babies in dispair)

wc: 1.9k+

a/n: i’m sorry in advance, i feel like i don’t write angst that well…but i hope you enjoy regardless

the captain’s girl masterlist

Heaviness lay in thick blankets around the room, almost like the inches of sand that covered the expanse of beach outside. Your throat felt tight at the intense gaze Nico was blazing at you. It wasn’t often the two of you fought, but it sure hurt like hell when you did.

Shuddered breaths heaved in your chest, hands pricking at your nails. It all felt like a nightmare. Except, you weren’t waking up.

Tension had been rising for days, emotions only growing as you and Nico danced around each other. You had refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room, or rather, the ring.

You loved Nico, with everything in your being, but you weren’t ready for marriage. Not yet anyway. Nico had always seemed so understanding about you choosing to wait a few more years before doing anything rash. Yet now, you weren’t so sure.

With Nico inviting you to come along for the trip during bye-week, you couldn’t have been more ecstatic. The thought of being able to spend an entire week with your boyfriend was like a breath of much needed fresh air. And it was, for the first few days.

At least until Wednesday.

❥.

Nico had gone out with some of the guys, promising to be back by 4 at the latest. Not that you minded much, getting the very nice and very expensive villa to yourself for a while was enticing.

After an hour or so in the sun, you decided to take a little break and use the giant bathtub that had been screaming your name since you had arrived. Grabbing your bag and some clothes, you made your way to the en-suite, making sure to leave the door slightly cracked, just in case Nico got home.

You turned on the faucet, making sure the water temperature was just right, before stripping yourself and sinking into the welcoming space. Closing your eyes, you sunk your body lower into the water, until it brushed against your chin with any movement. The motion of the slight waves was like a massage to your sore, sun-burnt skin.

You remained in the tub until the water ran cold and your skin began to get pruny. You pulled the drain, before carefully getting out and wrapping yourself in the closest towel. Walking over to the counter, you rummaged through your bag, trying to find your face wash, yet coming up empty handed.

You rolled your eyes, realizing you must have left it somewhere. Although, it was just a minor inconvenience, since you and Nico both used the same brand, so you weren’t worrying too much.

Squatting down to open the cabinet under the sink, you pulled out Nico’s black bag, quickly opening it to find the familiar bottle. You began to pull stuff out, before a little velvet box fell onto the tile beneath you.

Your breath caught in your throat, hoping it isn’t what you think it is. Nico knew you wanted to marry him, but not now, not during the peak of his career and your schooling. It just wasn’t what you saw for yourself. Shakily reaching down to grab the box, you stood up, scared to open it.

You almost opted to put it back, knowing that if it was an engagement ring, your relationship would never go back to the way it was. This would bring up a new wave of emotions and obstacles. It would open up a door you didn’t know if you could close.

Bracing yourself against the counter, you slowly opened the box. Gleaming back at you, in all its glory, was the most beautiful ring you could have imagined. It was the perfect ring. But this only made it hurt worse. Just picturing Nico picking out a the cut of diamond you had always wanted, or the band color, had your heart clenching with sadness.

You knew you were gonna have to talk to him about it, before he did something that neither of you would be able to walk away from unscathed.

It was the only option to save your relationship. To save Nico.

Sighing, you swiftly get dressed, placing the box back on the counter, hoping that Nico would realize you had found it. Now this may seem cowardly, but it was truly what you thought would be best. At least then, the blow would be softer than a straight out rejection.

You figured that if you prompted him to bring up the ring, the conversation would be easier. Only, he never brought it up. You could tell he knew, by the way he was so cautious with anything he did around you past 48 hours. This only caused your heartache to worsen.

Eventually, the tension came to a boiling point. Having just got home from a private dinner, you can’t help but feel as though Nico had originally planned for more to come from that picture perfect beachfront sunset. Deep down, you didn’t need to guess, you knew.

This was the night Nico was supposed to propose.

You felt conflicted as you entered the living room in silence. On one hand, you felt relieved he didn’t get down on one knee, yet on the other, you felt guilty for hoping the man you loved wouldn’t confess his undying loyalty to you. Your chest tightened with emotion.

“Can we not do this anymore?”

Nico’s voice rang out, interrupting your battling thoughts. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Not do what, Neeks?”

“Not sit here and pretend you didn’t find the ring, or that I wasn’t gonna propose to you.”

There it was. The bomb finally dropped. With those few words, the harsh truth of the situation became real. All of it did. No matter how hard you tried to remain in denial, or refuse to acknowledge it, reality always finds a way to bite back.

You bit your lip, contemplating on how to begin voicing your side, “Nico, what you need to understand is-”

He cut you off, “I do understand, Y/n. But you told me about your whole “plan” 2 years ago when we first got together.” His chest heaved with despair, “I thought you’d change your mind by now.”

“My plan? My plan was never going to change. You can’t be upset with me, when you were the one who assumed I’d say yes.”

Nico felt his heart shatter at your words, anger quickly began to boil through his veins, “Of course I’d assume you’d say yes,” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “I mean, fuck, we live together. We do everything with each other. I’m sorry for wanting to take that step with you, truly I am.”

His sarcasm didn't get lost on you. Scoffing, you turned away from him.

“Nico, you’re not listening to me-“

“What’s there to hear?” He cut you off once more, arms flaring into the air, “That you don’t want to marry me? God forbid someone actually wants to love you.”

You spin back around, tears springing to your eyes, “You are so out of line right now, Nico.”

Yet, your shaky tone did nothing to calm him.

“How am I out of line? For loving you?”

Disbelief was written all over your face. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the intensity of it all. Nico’s harsh comments pelted through any sort of resolve you had left. Never once did you think Nico would say something like that. Especially knowing your past. It stung worse than any pain you could imagine. 

“T-That’s not fair,” You quivered, “And you know it.” 

Nico’s tense form deflated at your meek voice. The anger that once flowed through him like hot lava, has now receded, leaving nothing but spiky coldness and depression. He felt lost, plagued by the possibility of not spending the rest of his life with you.

He gingerly walked across the room, now standing directly parallel to you, “Why?” His voice was distant and cracking under the weight of his emotions, “Why won’t you marry me, schatzi?”

The use of the familiar nickname was enough to break you. Sobs wracked through your body, knees becoming shaky. Nico immediately engulfed you in his arms, cradling you against his chest like it was the last time he’d ever feel you. You felt Nico’s own tears fall freely, the hurt grasping you both. Heavy cries left Nico’s chest, only furthering your guilt. 

“I’m so sorry, Nico!” You blubbered hopelessly, “I love you so m-much, I just,” Your sentence was cut short by the rapid hiccups in your breath. 

Nico’s hands moved to gently hold your face, pulling it to meet his bloodshot eyes. His cheeks were red and puffy, wet tracks trailing down to his chin, but you knew you didn't look much better. He tried his best to calm your breathing, even through his own unsteady gasps. After a few minutes, you found yourself composed enough to continue. 

“I don’t know,” You admitted weakly, “I don’t know why I don’t want to marry you, Neeks. I’m just not ready, yet.”

Nico took a second to mull over your words. He dropped his hands from your face, leaving you distraught at the possibility of him being even more upset. He quickly turned, retreating to your shared bedroom. You felt your throat squeeze, a new wave of anxiety washing over you. 

Finding the courage to follow him, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. 

You made your way over to him, perching on your knees in front of his legs. He lifted his head, pain written all over his handsome features. Your body physically ached at the amount of hurt swimming in his doe eyes. You cursed yourself for being the cause of it. Nico reached out to slowly like he’d spook you if he moved too quickly. He pulled you to stadle his waist, big eyes drilling into yours. 

He dropped his head in shame, “I’m sorry, schatzi.” 

You swallowed thickly, having not expected an apology.

“I should have talked to you about it first. I-I just got excited when we finally started talking about the future, I thought you had changed your mind.” 

You relaxed slightly, realizing he wasn’t gonna end things, “Don’t be sorry,” You rasped, voice hoarse from crying, “I should have made it clearer.” 

Lifting his face, you forced him to look at you, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get married eventually, Neeks. I promise, I do. Just-,” You looked at his hopeful gaze, “Just not right now.”

He nodded slightly, understanding your words. 

Your eye flickered from his eyes to his lips, before carefully placing a delicate kiss. Nico responded almost immediately, hands pulling you deeper. The kiss was slow and passionate. The days of bottled-up emotions pouring into each other's mouths. You slipped your hands into the back of his hair, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere. 

You eventually pulled away for air, chests panting. You sat for a moment, just taking in the other’s body. Nico was the first to break the silence. 

“Can you promise me something, schatzi?” Nico begged. 

You nodded quickly, “Anything.” 

“Promise you’ll marry me someday.” He swallowed, face falling into a serious expression.

You smiled slightly at his lingering worry. You kissed him once more as reassurance, before pulling away just enough to speak. 

“I promise I’ll marry you someday, Neeks.”

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 11

Chapter 11: fevered Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. Huge HUGe Voyeurism bit, arthur being a perv 🤨👀 huge weirdo energy LMAO small mention of wanting death, WC: 7780 Hello snow angels : ) here is chapter 11!!! this chapter will be from arthurs perspective so very exciting 😳 i had a ton of fun just getting nasty with him and writing his fucked up little thoughts 😈 arthur inner monologue was a bit weird at first but im sure ill get better at it by actually attempting to do it LMAO i hope you guys enjoy and pls let me know what you think!!! i wanna thank everyone who has left replies and asks about this series, all of you have been so supportive and amazing, couldnt do it without you guys 🥹🥹💖💖💖 also this ended up way too long so sorry Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol - What does it matter if the man who saved your life is a little strange?

It must be dusk falling too soon. Slow deprivation of heat and light; does things to his head, as if that wasn’t half screwed off already. Arthur’s fingers clutch the dusty curtain in front of one of two main windows at the front of his cabin; his eyes swear they can see…something out in the treeline. At first he thought of Pinkertons; to collect that bounty they were on about. Why they would follow him to the ends of the earth for that would be beyond him but Arthur had been known to do stupid things for a big payout. And of course, he hadn’t lived this long without a healthy amount of paranoia. Or what he called caution. Or perhaps Charles should have left his ass at the nearest asylum.

But he can sense that he’s wrong when nothing comes of it. No gunshots, no desperate shoot out for his life. Just the quiet again. In a minute, he’ll look out the window and watch the figure disappear. And he’ll shake his head, rub his calloused fingers over his tired eyes. He drops the curtain, pouring another cup of coffee at the silver percolator in the kitchen. He is not losing his grip; he isn’t. He’d leave that to Dutch. 

It’s gotten worse with the winter; those strange things he sees from time to time. They make him feel more out of place than he already does. As if there’s something wrong with him, wrong with this moment. The frost grows over the windows like mold.

The summer sun kept the darkness from slipping in and leaking into his vision. But that’s long gone, been gone for a month. Shit weather up here, long dragging winters. Summers that were too short for his liking and an autumn that was beautiful but also short lived. The winter is too heavy now to do much of anything but loop out to the stable and back. Not much sightseeing to do, the same shock white landscape to see everyday. 

In spite of how beautiful the mountain is; with its sprawling forest, creeks like liquid glass, the fresh winter air… Arthur finds it arduous to see it. Closing himself inside his cabin is easier. He could go and hunt something, draw the scenery. But was that any better than the fireplace? The comfort and simultaneous unease of staying inside the confines of his new home drag him in opposite directions. And even if his paranoid visions are just residue from another time in his life; he knows there are people who could be still searching, who might remember his face. Bad things had a way of following Arthur wherever he went. 

Even more loathsome is the lack of sunlight. The sun disappears around 4 or 5 and it feels like it was midnight by 6. The windows of his wooden cabin blacken like soot, leaving him tired and groggy. 

Arthur tries to keep himself going with bitterness like always. Coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol. He thinks the lack of light plays with his head. It’s easy to mistake shadows for ghosts, trusting himself was hard as it was. 

Damn snow, cuts to the bone.

The stunning silence surprises him still at these odd moments in the day. Arthur thought that maybe the peace would do him some good. But there was a need that scratched incessantly at the front of his skull. Over and over and over. 

He spent a long time being needed by other people. Dutch made him feel needed at the very least. Like he was part of something that symbolized how free a man could be. And he had devoted every shred of himself to the vision that Dutch had for the world. It was all that mattered to Arthur. His fealty was really all he had to give and so he gave it. 

God, had he felt the fool on the last day he saw him, when Dutch walked away, as if everything Arthur had ever done was nothing to him. Twenty goddamn years of his life. If he was being honest, he knew that his loyalty was wasted before that day but he had waited to see if the man he knew would emerge. If he could kill that gutless rat and show Dutch the truth but he refused, leaving Arthur with nothing to show for it. Helping John, Abigail and Jack to safety was barely a comfort when he thought of all that he wasted. All he did was hand another man a chance at the life that he wanted. 

But it was too late. As always with Arthur. (Everything was always too little; too late) Providing for others was embedded deeply in his being. It was something he had done for years, especially when he decided to get his shit together. He might have dallied, thoroughly enjoying his youth. But he learned (through several extremely painful lessons) why it was important that he pick up the slack. Loyalty isn’t represented by inaction. He hadn’t been all too kind to people but he had kept his comfort that in some part, his work was what kept that camp running. And when that fell apart; he really did try to help the less fortunate.

Really, he was making up for his failures to the people he cared about most. Arthur questioned if he had cared enough. If he did, maybe things would have ended differently between him and the people he harmed by being selfish.

Maybe Dutch put some modicum of power in his hands and Arthur had wielded it badly, went around acting like the cesspool he felt like most of the time. But at the end of the day, the camp ate because of him, they had medicine because of him, hell, they even drank because it was him that brought back more money than anyone else. 

There is no one who needs him now. Arthur scrubs his hand over his face then down to rub over his shoulders. Leans his head back. At first it was nice. The independence. No more debt collecting for Strauss, no more worrying if there’s enough food for Pearson, no more looking out for O’Driscolls. He thought he would like only having one person to worry about; he had been lying to himself. Although he still had other things missing from him. They’re like phantom limbs. He can feel where they were supposed to be but when he looks down they’re gone. Hosea’s guidance was missing from him. Even if he was terrible at following it. The sound of the girl’s giggling and gossiping. Even Uncle and Swanson ambling around, drunker than he thought was possible. Dutch looming, watching through his haze of maduro sweetened smoke. He keeps looking down but they’re gone.  

The fire crackles and the wind howls; picks up the silence. Sometimes the wind from the flue sounds like the breeze over Flat Iron Lake. The fire doesn’t sound any different than it did when it crackled warmly around a circle of a mismatched band of criminals singing songs together, alongside the chatter and the drunken crooning. When it was the background noise to thick Irish blabbering. The poor kid. He was going places, as most of the younger ones were, he and Lenny would have run that gang when they got past their growing pains. He could have told them that when they were living, that sentiment would have meant something then. 

It’s been a year or two, the days sort of connect like train cars and chug along, not because he wants them to but because that’s how life goes. It’s an endless drag, an endless struggle. He can’t see how this is much better than being dead. Arthur Morgan is one of the few people who knows how precious life can be, he spent a lifetime taking it away from people as he pleased. 

He tries to savor this peace (as if he knows how to). Tries to remember what it was like, not having any time to himself, always at Dutch’s beck and call. Barely any time to take a piss, let alone really rest, really give himself room to be anything but what others wanted. How he loathes those memories. The years he spent dedicating himself to another man's dreams. Watched all those years slip away, ashes in a smoke stack, rising forever upwards until they’re forgotten. 

Arthur refuses to recall how many things he gave up for that life; down to the simple pleasures. Love, privacy, a family. He convinced himself that anything else wasn’t living, that he couldn’t ever be tied down. That old life was just… what he had. There was nowhere else to go and when he was old enough to go his own way, there were kids like him with nothing left; nothing to return to, no one to look after them. He might not have been anyone to look up to. Maybe he was a shining example of what not to be. It was Arthur who was there to keep people in line, to show them how to be killers for Dutch’s aspirations. He’s sure he ruined lives more than he taught them anything useful.

Nothing about that life was rooted in anything real, substantial to the world. Pipe dreams. Vague imaginings of living free in the west or some such tropical paradise. What a waste. Just the thought of a secluded island with palm trees on it summons a bitter laugh. 

He sits and watches the fire. Tries to ignore the shadow in the corner. It's thin and wavering. Today, it looks a bit too much like Hosea for his taste. Especially when the log on the hearth cracks, it sounds like that ominous cough that followed the graying conniver everywhere he went. 

Arthur lights another cigarette. He’s been making (quite frankly, just awful) attempts at rationing and this is his allotted second cigarette of the day. He’s two for five. He curses himself every time he forgets to take the drags and it crumbles to ash too quickly, landing on the rug beneath his boots. He hisses, a singe on his fingers snaps him back to the present moment. It burns his fingers when he forgets that he’s holding one entirely, too busy drilling holes in the walls with his eyes. He can’t stand it but he doesn’t have another choice. The silence has the mysterious property of making Arthur lose track of himself. He should have listened but he never learns. 

This deep into winter, not too far from the base of Mt. Pàtu, he can’t just head out on the road and get more cigarettes. The nearest town is a six or seven hour ride and that isn’t happening, not in this weather. He might take Currant out for a light trot so he can get some exercise but he can tell something big is coming soon. The bellows of air from the west have him readying for storm weather. Best to get a move on now if he were to be going out. 

It’s dinner now. He’s not sure where the time went but he doesn’t mind too much. He’s got coffee and he’s got hot food. Salt pork with potatoes, boiled in the salt water from soaking the corns of salt off the meat. He’s gotten better at cooking at least. Arthur scoffs at the thought of the slop he used to be eating. He takes a glass out and sets it on the counter, along with his fifth bottle of Kentucky bourbon. He’s allowed 6 bottles a month. By anyone else’s standards it might be a lot but where he spent most of his time; around other drunkards and degenerates, it’s not enough. 

The storm hits full force now, there’s gonna be snow all the way up to the porch by tomorrow morning. But the air inside of his cabin is still and smoky. From the window, he checks the stable to see if the doors stay closed. It’s well insulated so Currant should be fine. The storm will have scared most of the game into hiding away, he contemplates when he’ll head back out for hunting. He takes a seat at his plain dining table, spends a while on the same glass of bourbon. The smell of cedar and salt is nice.  So is the warmth of his cabin but it’s all lost to him. His sense for how fortunate he is to be here and not dead in a ditch is dull. Only he could be the man to crave chaos and blood and the sound of gunshots while sitting on his ass all day, sipping bourbon. 

He thinks he’ll read a boring book or pretend to keep busy by stoking the fire. Arthur listens to the silence, waiting to hear something but the crackling and the draft from a small crack in the wall. But there’s nothing. He should have listened to Charles. But he insisted that he would be fine. He can’t go back on that now, he’s always been fine by himself. He’ll just wear the groove into his leather chair even further like the sorry bastard he is, trying to ignore how small and stiflingly warm the room feels.  

The blizzard gets louder and louder. Dozing off on the sofa or in his chair sounds like as good a time as any. But he isn’t exhausted, just annoyingly groggy. Bouncing his knee does not count as activity. Neither does all the fidgeting he does, twitching his fingers, putting his legs up and bringing them back down. He tries to pace a little but wearing treads on the floorboards isn’t doing any good either. He puts his hands on his hips. 

 He grabs his journal but he doesn’t have much to write. What would he write about? Surely, the exciting things he experiences everyday. Waking up feeling like hot shit on a platter after having too much whiskey was not the kind of thing worth memorializing in his journal anymore. He’s a little past the shame now too, the embarrassment. He lets his fingers feel the blank page, the tooth of the paper. 

He lets his hand form images of spring, the point of his pencil worn into a dull tip, recollected as best as possible. It’s nothing but a pale comparison. 

There’s a pat on the door. It’s soft and weak. And just as softly, there’s a voice pleading for help, asking if anyone is inside. A light shining in through the cracks of his world. 

He pushes himself up. He knows he hasn’t had that much to drink tonight. The worst possible outcomes play in his head. A ruse from bounty hunters, a local gang taking advantage (not a whole lot better than he would have done only 3 years ago), or another ghost from his past (the ones that play at the corner of his eye). His chest gets a little tight but he’s been good at keeping unease from holding him back. Arthur shakes his hand out, placing the book on the mantle of the fireplace.

“Who’s out there?” It’s an oddity. To hear another voice. One that isn’t his own. It’s a beautiful noise, a pleasing beckon. But he’s no fool. He doesn’t even particularly want to be here, why would anyone be here if they didn’t have to be? He grabs his revolver from the small table next to the entrance, one of the only loaded guns in the house. “Please, sir, I promise it’s just me,” and the earnestness in that voice, he has to believe that promise is true. He has to open the door. With a deep sigh, he stuffs the gun away after a second thought. 

The figure is much too bundled up to gather any immediate details. She’s not very much, standing there out in the cold icy fluff. It isn’t until he nods his head to direct her does she realize she should probably come in. He peeks out at the tracks, just one long line of horse tracks in the process of getting blown over by the harsh wind and the lashing ice. Her struggle up to the porch marked in snow. Arthur scans the tree line for any of those dark silhouettes but they’ve blown away in the wind, they’re pushed from his mind when he turns back and closes the door shut behind the both of them. 

He turns to her, he doesn’t mind the way she shrinks away from his body, skittish and slight. Such a small girl, alone in a snowstorm. He can’t think of a single good reason why she would be going it alone and what she could possibly need more than a night in. She should be warming her hands next to a fire. He could do it for her, could gather them and breathe on them. He tosses that behind him like an empty tin can. He has other things to focus on, mostly trying to get a better look at her and prying an answer out of her as to why she’s out here like this. 

He’s more rude than he intended to be but a little rudeness is nothing new to him. “What the hell were you doin’ out there?” He has been described as coarse. Intentionally and unintentionally. He’s a little bit like a puffed up rooster when he catches her looking him over, marveling at the size of him. But he lets that fall away, surely she needed no old man assuming things on her part. He knows he ain’t much to look at. At his gruff tone, she has no response. The poor thing is so cold, her teeth chatter, whatever she mustered up to yell at him over the storm has run out. Arthur feels a little of his hard veneer chip away. 

He thinks to take her coat, covered in frost and not nearly as insulated as he had hoped, it’s damp with melting ice now that she’s inside. But he feels like he’s dreaming again, peeling her coat off and hanging it on the rack, a faux gentleman. He doesn't know why he’s trying to impress but there’s a chance that she’d like a man like that. So he plays, pretends. He’s surely done that before.

When her coat is shed, all of those visions he’s been having must have caught up to him. 

Jesus, Morgan. You’ve really lost it now. 

This disease of loneliness he’s been given has surely destroyed the vestiges of his sanity. He must be imagining some young soft handed girl with warm bright eyes and vibrant, shiny hair. Face of an angel, looking hopeful; grateful. Her eyes on him burn like hellfire. He feels strange, watching much too close at how her tongue wets her lips; chapped from the cold. Beautiful; she must be someone’s girl, he hopes for a widow who had lost her husband to the winter frost. He’d gladly pick up where the fucker left off. Pry her from his cold hands. Could just be the loneliness talking. He can’t bring himself to care all that much about it. 

Arthur can feel shame eating away at him, like ants at the corners of a scrap fallen off the table. He could have found himself sick to his stomach not too short a time ago. A girl as young as her and he, an old dog with even older tricks have no business together. He knows it too. But he was done with that crushing feeling of dread that ate away at his very soul some days. He had enough of his life to feel awful about. Blood on the floorboards, forgotten promises, disregarded words of affection. Just these moments, where he can hoard the vision that is this girl to himself after so long of giving pieces of himself away. 

What has that shame ever done but made you worse? 

If there isn’t the will to keep his eyes off the girl then there’s the give in him. Like a levy, it cracks a little, breaks into a million pieces of splintered wood for her. It’s been too long since he’s seen something so pretty. All flesh and blood. No graphite on paper; recollections of the women from his past, no Gem of Beauty cigarette card. She carries the smell of soap and perfumed cotton. He thinks it's geranium scented or another delicate flower crushed to pieces to make her smell like she came from heaven too. It’s a weakness he hadn’t culled. 

This girl of his; she must be something quite real. His wishful daydream would have diverted to more intimate topics by now, and he’d probably imagine a woman he’s at least met before. Deciding if he’d prefer her to be real or a misty figment of his imagination; he can’t make heads nor tails of it. Arthur knows he’d probably end up disappointing a real person more than he could offend a figure cooked up in his mind. He sighs. He turns to the iron stove beside the dining table. There’s still coffee and he can distract himself from his ridiculous train of thought by clumsily pouring it out for her. 

Hopeful bastard.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” He knows she isn't but he wants to hear her talk some more. And maybe if she hears what a brute he makes himself out to be most of the time, she’ll turn her nose up at him the way she’s supposed to. Lots of women have, she wouldn’t be the first warned away by his attitude like a bad smell. He could almost let that temptation win. To change who he is at this moment. If only for the selfish purpose of luring her further into his home. However, he’s too impulsive and his tongue is too practiced at offending. He has words that are about as gentle as a fist to the nose. 

He sets her cup down on the table. Arthur doesn’t wait for her to figure herself out, grabbing another cigarette, swiping them off of the coffee table in front of the fireplace. To hell with the rations. It was a special day after all, a goddamned holiday. He strikes the match on the table, lighting it as she tentatively steps forward. Nearly singes his finger on the match he forgot to put out, wincing and waving it out to put out the flame. 

She’s a pearl, surrounded by the ugly oyster that is the less than stellar home he keeps. Carefully, she steps into his space. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of every thing she could find awful or garish; his hunting trophies or the weapons or the wall. Or the mess of papers on the desk in the corner. It has him gripping his cigarette a bit too tight. Her face hardly moves in any particular reaction, as if used to him already. A simple neutrality is what takes her as she looks at some of the things over the mantle, then her eyes track over the small hallway, leading to the bedroom and some storage. She’s quick to bring her attention back to him, a soft smile that stuns him graces her face, kicking up some long buried hope of his.

 If there was a woman who should be a lady, it’s her. She sets herself down on the sofa, neatly keeping her hands to herself, reaching for the cup he set out for her. But first checking to see if it wasn’t for him with a nervous flick of her eyes up to his own. He can hardly ignore how it pulls at him. She holds the blue speckled cup on her thigh. 

“No, I…was getting something for my granny…” She explains she couldn’t make it to the doctor in the almost fatal weather outside. He has a humorless laugh. How could anyone send her out for the sake of some old hag; already knocking on death's door? Selfless girl but stupid. Defenseless. Her own mother, too. He supposes he can relate. The man he regarded as his father had been the one to let him down the most.

 It’s always the ones you trust. 

He makes his opinion known to her, maybe he can talk some sense into her. 

“I can imagine. What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” He reprimands her, she might need it. 

Little girl gone out by herself. Needs you, don’t she?

What she probably needs is someone to keep her from doing things that risk her life for nothing at all. Doesn’t have to be him but he won’t turn the thought away. Breaking her open on her marriage bed. Such a pretty thing, a distracted smile into her cup of coffee. Lost in a snow drift because no one cared enough to keep her inside. 

And she does nip back. Trying to give a rebuttal but he won’t have it. He knows he’s right, giving his idea of a light hearted joke, his particular brand of poking humor. Heavy handed as always. 

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed.” 

 Perhaps insinuating her grandmother was already dead wasn’t the best attempt at familiarizing her with himself, her face tinges with an expression he’s used to seeing. Dutch said he had a sharper tongue than people thought. Hosea said it was too blunt. 

“And if it weren’t for me, well…” she’d be dead. Forgotten somewhere in the snow with a dead horse for company. Such an image should hopefully be sobering for her. It’s a harsh reality but one he would prevent from happening.  His hand comes up to scratch at his brambly jaw. She probably thought his slightly overgrown beard was ugly and unkempt. His fingers raise the delicate rolled cigarette to his lips. A nice calming drag helps his nerves calm down, they quit jumping under his skin every time her eyes pull over him, over his scarred face and his crooked nose and his gnarled hands. She looks like she holds something back. Her tongue, he thinks. He wished she would have just come out and said it. 

But she’s a polite little thing, stifling herself with another drink of the coffee. The satisfaction on her face and the small droop in her shoulders now that she’s warm makes him smile. 

She speaks up with a tremor stuck to her words. “I’m sorry mister,” her nose scrunches a little, doesn’t even know how darling he finds it. “but I don’t think you gave me your name…” 

In a well practiced motion, he leans and ashes his cigarette. It took him a while to remember that he can’t just ash them on the ground anymore. He had floors and a permanent roof now. He tends to get the hang of things at some point. He kicks his legs up on the table, gently so as to not frighten the girl on his sofa, warming herself by his fire, and drinking his coffee. The thoughts tickle that provider’s instinct so deeply embedded in his being. His name, he almost forgets all about that, looking into her pretty eyes, blinking curiously. Right. 

“Arthur. You married?” He never liked small talk too much. Never one for the surface level bullshit people put on. He watches each of her features form into something like a smile but not. Too nerve-y, falls into something else when she presses her lips together, her brows twitch as they pull together and her fingers scrunch in her gloves. 

As if she’d marry you, ain’t exactly the pick of the litter, are ya?

His fingers twitch, squeeze his short nails into the give of his palm. Then why does she call him? So enticing, then, looking at him with soft eyes, her legs pressed together and slanted. A real proper girl. Cute thing. Naive enough not to recognize someone like him at first glance. He’s something to be avoided. He wishes he could see a ring glittering on her finger, to ward away the seething heat in his head and his gut. Like a prayer muttered in the presence of evil but he doubted it’d be strong enough. 

“No, I’m afraid not,” her voice is like velvet, the rub of a rose petal between his fingers. Her eyes flick away and her teeth press gently into her bottom lip, sweet looking. No man to look after her besides her worthless father, left her out here to freeze. Alone, really. Or she might as well be. The world has been known to be cruel to women. To his mother, to a woman whose life he had ruined, to Mary even, to Susan and Molly. Well, most every woman he knew. It wasn’t fair but many things in their lives were disparagingly slanted away from them, scales always uneven. 

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself?” Arthur scoffs, even as he points out her tragedy. “Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” His fingers push his cigarette into the ash tray a bit too hard, twisting it. And he looks at her blouse, drawing the outline of her with his eyes. He’d put it to paper later. She has a small nod for him. A shining opportunity. But he has to introduce his own dingy reality. The one where he was probably old enough to have been able to hold her when she had just been born. 

“You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Honest words slip from him, too loose for him to keep them behind his teeth. The bashful look crosses over her face makes his lip curl up just a little. She deserved to have someone tell her how pretty she is, who wouldn’t ever let her forget for a second how lovely she looked. Where all of these sappy things come from is beyond him. They ooze into his mind anyway.

Delicately, she sets the cup down on the table littered with other cups he had forgotten to put away and empty packages of cigarettes. He rolls his eyes at himself, of course he doesn’t clean up the day he has company.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind,” her hands pet at her thighs, he can see where the fabric is damp. Immediately, his mind clicks into place, thinking on how he can fix it. That’s what the fairer sex truly craved, wasn’t it? Not some puffed up egomaniac. A fixer. A solution. His hands itch to move. To pick up the pieces of her problems and push them back into the shape of something whole. “Ain’t no trouble,” the relieved sag in her shoulders tells him that she actually worried about it. 

So Arthur does, he’s nothing if not a man of action. “Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He’s up before he can hear a protest. But she doesn’t give much of one. In his bedroom, his hands swipe his hair backwards. The small mirror he usually keeps around strictly for shaving catches the light of the small oil lamp. 

God, his best years are way behind him. So say the lines at the corners of his eyes, the gouges of his age on his forehead and the delicate webbing of wrinkles under his eyes. All of the evidence of his lifestyle glares back at him. There’s a ruddiness over the higher planes of his cheekbones from burning them under the sun. Some of the fist and knife fights from his youth have left permanent evidence of his misgivings on his face. Mostly in the form of scars and his odd nose. 

You disgust her, don’t go kidding yourself. 

If he ever told her the truth of himself, he’s sure a girl like her would go running, suddenly not minding the cold. He never was good at keeping beautiful things by his side. They rotted or wilted, or blew away with the wind. His rough fingers rub at the back of his neck. He stares deep into his own eyes. Trying to force some normalcy, some sense into himself but it’s all in vain. He grunts, paying mind to other things. 

He opens his cabinet, all of the simple clothes he keeps. Something new and not so weathered, or dirty, something clean. Like her. Some nice cotton knit union suit, something he bought when he was preparing for winter. He grips them tight and hesitates at the door. 

Just go n’ give it to her, and try not to be an idiot; for god’s sake. 

And the sweet smile he sees knocks whatever sense he had gathered out of him, he can hardly form a word. He just holds the fabric out to her like an oaf. And she rises, as to keep things comfortable, good at reading his brutish signaling, taking them gently and skirting around him. And then she’s in his bedroom. With a mental cuss, he realizes that he forgot to clean the room before he left. 

Ah, she’ll find out how pathetic you are at some point. Just a matter a’ when… 

All those empty bottles and habits he’s formed from living alone. Dirty clothes piled somewhere and sheets that probably smelled a bit too much like sweat. Christ. He sighs, pinching his nose. He’s not sure why he’s putting so much thought into this. He doesn’t care. Not a care at all. Right…sure.

At first, he distracts himself with preparing food, his leftovers, hopefully enough for her. Doing this is an action which is perhaps a bit selfish. He wants to make it clear that he can give her things she needs. He could figure out wants later.. Typically, he hadn’t thought too much of what women wanted but with her he makes lists, takes out the fine brandy. Sometimes he took after Dutch more than he would like to admit, the man was all too good at forgetting about a woman’s wants and needs.

The food hasn’t gone too cold. His hands look for things to do, stirring unnecessarily. Fumbling the dish he places it on. However, the little comfort he gains from activity fades. He can only grip the counter like a vice while staring out the window above his sink for so long. The shades of brown and orange that make up his cabin blur into nothing, the wood grain isn’t as grounding as he wants it to be. 

But then his legs drift in the opposite direction, He can hear a soft sigh and the rustle of clothing behind the door. He wets his dry throat. Arthur shouldn’t salivate. He does anyway.

You’re a creep. Something in his head laughs at him. 

Been too long since you had a woman this close to your bed and she ain’t even in it with ya…c’mon. C’mon, just open the damn door. 

His heart is about to pound his ribs into dust. He’s among the worst of the worst but this… pushes boundaries. Lines drawn in the sand. Peeping on women wasn’t something he was raised to do. And if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, it was an accident. 

You ain’t that bad.

He’s used to letting the tide wash those out so he can draw new ones. And here is a new one. When his fingers push at the door and he can see the sliver where she bares her own flesh. Rubs her hands up her thighs, stepping out of her clothes. His throat goes dry, his teeth bite bluntly at the tip of his tongue as his jaw gets tense. 

His eyes follow the natural plush curve of her body, pale yellow lamp light glancing off of her. He’d kill a man to touch her and he’d kill a man for touching her. Devouring every inch, his eyes soak it all up, dedicating her to memory. 

 And then she’s stepping into the creamy cotton of his clothes. Doing up the buttons at her front. Unbidden by him, his cock fills out, half hard, pressing uncomfortably at just the sight of her. The perfection of her hips, her hair brushing over her back. 

The guilt is chewing a hole in his conscience. It’s like there are termites gnawing away at the foundation of whatever restraint he had. He’s felt less disgusting after killing a man, making him choke on his own blood as it fills his lungs. But the reward had never been so delightful. A sweet girl, so trusting, putting her hand to her chest and smiling as she realizes he’s there. It doesn’t feel good at all, the realization that he’s drooling over her like a mutt. All she has given him is reluctance, nervous glances. She doesn’t touch him or leave her hand to linger. A sweet-as-cream smile is all he has, enough to tide him over. He wants her anyway, needs her to stay. Letting her walk out after this will be next to impossible. 

“You scared me, Mister…” Mister. So polite, an angel delivered unto him. He can feel how his body is tense, tight like a spring. How she doesn’t notice the evidence of his wrongdoing, pressing at the front of his pants is luck or her naivety. His expression must be dazed, a foolish look because all he can do is stare, unable to stop himself. Observing the way his clothes drape over her, exaggerating how much smaller she is in comparison. How stunning she’d look, sprawled over his bed sheets. Precious girl; struggling not to cry when she gets all stretched out on something wholly too big for her. In his mind's eye, she mouths his name, looks at him like all she wants is him inside of her. Right. His name again. 

He dips back into his own ease in which he controls all of himself with. He is self assured and well handled. And he certainly doesn’t curl in on himself. Lets her see how big he is, slips back into old habits with the ease that comes with capability. “Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” his real name, no Kilgore’s or Calahan’s. She should know it anyhow, if he has any real intention in giving it to her.

It’s dangerous and it’s like she can feel it, somewhere in her body is that base instinct. One she was born with to protect herself from people with bad intentions. But she has another instinct, bares her neck to him. Arthur has always been good at suppressing his hunger, desire for soft pretty things. Settling like sediment on them was the control he had, buried them and buried them and buried them. She's a rainstorm, flooding his mind, washing out his carefully maintained resistance. Leaves his want raw and exposed and actionable. He wants her too much, wants her more than he has any right to. 

He feels what little control he has over his urges begin to slip with that thought.  Usually, he let them take over. Let whatever pain and anguish in him manifest into pure rage, cold and unadulterated. At first, it revolted him, his actions. And the reputation he built to go along with them. But they began to grow over him like a second skin until they encased whatever hope he had for a better life completely. His self induced hatred hid whatever pieces of him weren't supposed to be his to have and to share. The things he had to hide from himself even to feel like a whole person at any given moment. And he let himself be that awful thing people thought he was. Arthur Morgan. A force of nature. 

But he deserved it, didn't he? Everyone should keep their distance anyway. He has a habit of making things worse than when he found them. But all he wanted was for her to be close. Sure, he could play the vulnerable man who could pine after his sweetheart, go out riding after her, guide her home where she would forget all about him. Just a kind man out to help the world.

That's not what he wanted. He wanted her to stay here. Can’t bear the thought of being a good man, sending her away when the storm blows over. In sickness and in health, til’ death do us part. That’s what he sees when he closes his eyes. She’s standing in the kitchen, turning the spoils of his hunts into dinner. With that easy smile. His too empty house just wouldn’t feel like a home without her in it. He’s sick, he knows; but he’s sure she can cure him. 

Arthur Morgan has always wanted more than he could have. He chews on the thought like tobacco. Bitter but eventually he begins to need the taste, to crave it. 

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” God, his tongue feels too thick in his mouth and his jaw aches from gritting his teeth too hard. And of course, he lays all his cards on the table. Man can’t leave his woman hungry.

Every little gesture she makes, wrapping her arms shyly around herself, the gentle tilt of her head and the small affirmative gesture she makes is in no way unordinary. But they’re all dripping with her appeal. How can she smile at him like he doesn't look the way he does? Like he hasn't made the world worse just by existing in it?

 He soils her just by laying greedy eyes on her neck, on her nipples which he can make out through the fabric of his union suit. And when she opens her mouth, he knows he’ll end up calling her what she is. Sweet and syrupy, soothing on his throat. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” Arthur is convinced he heard her wrong. But her honesty is in those radiant eyes, in her easy posture. It must be meant to be, it’s not every day a woman talked to him like that. Or talked to him at all. He was perhaps too busy making sure they knew what they would be getting into; dealing with him. 

It may just be the respectful manners instilled in her. He supposed her parents had given her that; mannerisms that made her quite the catch. Utter perfection. But really, even that was a disservice. They damned her to him. Makes him see glimpses of a life he could have. Hundreds of conversations, every iteration of the precious babe they'd have together with his hair and her eyes, a son or a daughter. Two of each perhaps. Hours and hours of her gentle, refined voice taking up the empty room. He bows his head as if he can keep his disbelief and joy under the brim of his hat, currently hanging by his front door. 

She comes nearer. He can smell her cotton scent, can see the way the light casts around her hair, feathering over her, turning it into gold. His body moves to make the smallest space for her. Hoping she’ll nudge against him. He doesn’t even realize the way he’s formed himself to keep her here for just a moment. So close, Arthur nearly loses track of what he was supposed to be doing.  

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” apprehension floods her body, her features. Her eyes focus on him, waiting for something terrible to happen. Arthur sees how she bristles. He only meant to be honest but she’s already read between his lines. Smart girl. 

He shows her just what he means. Even when he knows better, even if he’s never been this far. It’s like he has to touch though. No where uncomfortable, just to be sure she isn’t a sign that he’s truly gone from this world. 

“Please, I-” 

Her plea goes down his spine. It rakes its teeth over the parts of him that are wrong. That weren’t formed with gentleness, aren’t intricate. Just instinct that he’s indulged. 

He may not be a good man. But he can behave well enough to keep her. Now that he has the room for her. He doesn’t live in a drafty tent. He’s not a dog chained to the hand that fed him too many years ago. He would never treat her like an object to display or a mistake made in a drunken night of pleasure. He wouldn’t throw this away, this one chance at having something real. Wouldn’t lay waste to this opportunity to fill a hole in him that yawned empty for what felt like eternity. She’d be his wife and he; her man. A husband. Mister and Missus Arthur Morgan. A crock of shit, he would have said a month ago.

That ain’t the hand you been dealt and you know it. You’ve made a mess of things enough.

 But now… it's a dreamy reality. It hasn’t quite taken shape but he can get it there. Determination starts to crystallize over the idea. She’s something good; doesn’t need him. He could try to make something better too, could make the best of a situation, try to show her the best in him. But he knows it’d never be enough for her. He always throws these good things away, always ruins it somehow. But he grips and shakes like a mutt at this idea, gnaws it until it's raw. He can just take what he wants. Done that before, hasn’t he?

Just leave’er alone. God, you never learn, goddamned fool…

His fingers graze over the skin on her neck, uncovered by the collar of the union suit he lent her. Here in the dark of the small hallway, he can swear there’s something in the way she breathes, shudders. “I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman… Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He’s aware that he sounds like a right bastard but he’s only telling the truth. His hand settles at her back, like it’s supposed to be there. They’re meant to be, all he has to do is show her. 

ok yall how we feeling LMAO i think his perspective was interesting and fun for me to write but idk if its any good, but i hope with practice ill get more confident 🥹🥹 bro is a freak sooo yeah it was fun to write him as a freak he is very conflicted about everything and he is super weird but also sexy sooo😳 i hope you guys enjoyed this lil backstory on why arthur is a weirdo 😊😊😭😭 lmk what you guys think !!

[dunmeshi-darlings]

Hi! May I please request some angst?

Marcille,Falin, and Laios (separate) with an isekai'd terminally ill s/o who needs to go back to their world in order to get treatment, since their disease is incredibly advanced, by their standards, and not easy for magic to handle.

However, the three want to save their s/o, but at the same time doesn't want them to go back to their world.

Aye a somber request but one i can do. After All, The whole worlds a stage. For some it is a comedy, Others an adventure, and yet still for others it is a tragedy. But all must play there part one way or another.

When you first arrived marcille was in awe, Not only did another entire reality exist, but you had apparently somehow been teleported from there?! She had questioned you for hours about the world, about what it was like. Fascinated that it was a world of technology in a vaguely similar fashion to the dwarves machinery, yet even more advanced. How it was a world without monsters and only had regular animals. How it was a world inhabited only by People like you, Nothing but tallmen (though in reality you and the rest of the people from your world werent tallmen, they just happened to be the most similar to your people). But strangest of all it had no magic (or so you thought), The idea seemed foreign to her and she couldnt even imagine what it could possibly be like.

You two had grown closer and fallen in love and marcille viewed you as a gift from the divine...but like all divinity they are cruel and can change there whims in a split second. It started off with a small cough, neither of you were particularly worried about it, sicknesses come and go after all. But the cough over time slowly progressed and got worse and worse, it eveolved into a tightness in the chest and struggle breathing. you became unable to do most physical things as your condition worsened, Then the dry coughing grew worse when one day you coughed into your hand and when you pulled it away it was soaked in blood.

Marcille tried everything she could, she had asked falin to do everything she could, but sadly to no avail as the healer couldnt seem to slow this disease. She asked laios for help who spent a small fortune of his newly aquired kingdoms gold to try and find you the best healers in the world to no avail. Marcille was at her wits end, she couldnt see you die. She had seen so many people she loved and cared about die already, she couldnt loose you too. However one day you brought up an idea, one that broke her heart almost as much as the idea of your death did. "i think...the only ones who could help....me..are doctors from...my world.."

Marcille begged and pleaded, she didnt want to loose you that way either...but she knew deep down that there was no magic here that could help. The both of you knew that with the magic of this world, your death was certain and you needed to go back to be treated...but...but what if...what if marcille used magic not of this world.

That dark beckoning call came to her once more, its powerful embrace called out to her, it whispered gilded words that dripped a hopeful venom. It asked of her how far would she be willing to go to save the one she loved? If her true desire was to save you, she would do anything right?....right?

She had already used its power once, what harm would using it once more do? Maybe it could save you? maybe it could fix this disease and you and her could live happily ever after. Marcille had already called upon these dark ruinous powers before, it would be so simple to do it again? Who cares about the law, of morality, of the dangers this magic poses...Would marcille truly wield that eldritch power once more to save you? consequences be damned...right?

Your arrival was incredibly to falin, the idea of a whole new world of wonder, of things to see and do, a whole new world of beauty she had never seen before made her giddy. You and her would sit up for hours as you told her stories of your world, of just how different it was than her world, how the people were, how life was. And though there were many sad stories, Falin always found it comforting to know that so many good things happened in this other world to, that no matter how grim the world seemed. There would always be people being happy and living there lives and trying to make the world a better place, it made her smile. The two of you grew closer and eventually you confessed your feelings for her, however she giggled saying how she had planned on doing the same as well. The two of you getting together as you two travelled together after laios's ascension to be the new golden kingdoms king. However, Death once more made its presence known in the door of falins home, but instead of seeing her once more it decided to come calling the one person she hoped most it would never see for years.

The coughing was the first sign something was wrong, Falin was a gifted healer and so she used her magic to try and get rid of it...but it didnt work, no matter what she did that cough wouldnt go away, at most only disapearing for a day or so then coming right back. Its progression only getting worse and worse as she frantically tried to out heal the symptoms, each time she would try to heal you she would be in tears. messy tear drops falling down her cheeks as she would use her healing magic over and over and over till she herself would throw up from magic sickness.

By the time you had started coughing up blood you had to force falin to stop trying to heal you, you both knew it wasnt going to work and that she was just hurting herself and that broke your heart. the two of you laying together as you both sobbed at all of this..it wasnt fair, it wasnt right. How could something so awful happen to such an amazing and loving person....falin couldnt believe it could happen. Eventually you told her one night you had an idea. "Falin...i think the only way ill survive is if i go back to my world...and get help there."

It broke falins heart, because she knew deep down you were right...that the only hope you had was to go back to your world and get help there. Falin was quiet for awhile, her mind racing before she softly takes a hold of your hands. "Ok...if thats the case...IM GOING WITH YOU!"

She shouts confusing you, asking her if she is serious!? would she just leave this world behind? her nodding saying that your her world and wherever you go she wants to be right there with you. And besides, she cant loose you..

When you first showed up laios was excited about the possibility to learn about all new monsters in a whole new reality....however when you told him that monsters werent a thing he couldnt help but admit how your world seemed boring.

Despite that he adored you as the two of you grew closer and closer and eventually got together. You ruling the golden kingdom alongside him. The two of you ruling the kingdom together happily, Despite laios endless hunger and curse towards monsters he was happy. you help him deal with the stress of ruling the kingdom, But perhaps fate had one last curse in store for laios...or perhaps this was some aspect of the winged lions curse on him itself.

You started off with coughing, Laios noting it was likely a cold or something and asking falin or marcille to use healing magic to help..but it didnt work. You only continued to grow worse and laios grew more and more worried. He looked through his books about monsters trying to find something in them that might heal you. He had you drink multiple brothes, eat mixtures of vegetables and herbs, bath in some monster blood but nothing was helping. None of the medicinal properties of the various monster parts he would hire people to go get would work.

By the time you had started coughing up blood, laios had all but given up hope. Nothing was working, no matter what he did, no monster remedies could help, neither marcille or falins magic could help..and his own healing magic wasnt great. He would just sit by your bedside and cry into the sheets as he held you. Eventually though you spoke to him. "Laios...i think the only way ill live..is if i go back...the doctors of my world are more advanced...its the best chance i have."

It tore laios to pieces to hear this, he hated the idea of loosing you. he had almost lost his sister, and he was so afraid to loose you too. But he knew you were right, it was the best chance you had. He would join you if he could...but he couldnt, he had to rule over the golden kingdom. There was nobody else that could rule it in his place, He had to stay behind..and it ate him alive. He told you that he would always be yours, and that he would always think of you no matter what. And as long as you lived, thats all that mattered to him.

[onlyangellucifer]

I LOVE YOU, ITS RUINING MY LIFE

PLOT:

It’s the biggest trial of the year and the whole world is watching. Stakes are higher and tension is higher. Little do they know, the prosecutor and defence attorney are in love.

OR

Harry is a popular defense attorney in London & Y/N is a popular prosecutor. Both are known for rarely losing & now they’ve found themselves in a pickle.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

WARNINGS:

Mentions of murder, blood, and the likes (nothing too graphic), smut (in the future), angst, fluff, etc. will add more if any others pop up!

AUTHORS NOTE:

Hello!! Ive been MIA, sorry. However, ive come bearing gifts! Below the cut is a sneak peak at this new short series (no more than 6 parts atm). Im working on the other series’ too, sorry for the delay. Hope you can forgive me. Anyways i hope u enjoy defense attorney!Harry 🫶🏼 the preview also isnt proof read, so excuse any typos. Meaning things WILL be changed / could be changed & moved around! Not sure of word count, but cant be more than 1500. Its short.

London hasnt seen a case this high profile since the case of Harold Shipman, who killed up to 250 victims. Many feared this may be another case of Jack The Ripper, as they double checked their doors at night, hoping the serial killer wasn’t going to show up at their door. The relief that washed over the town when the police had finally caught the man whom they think is responsible for the latest killings of 20 men and women. The scenes were too graphic to show on tv.

Y/N ended up with the case. The crime scene photos were unnerving to her and interviewing the victims families made it even worse. Bile creeping up throat as she read the horrific things that happened to each victim. She wanted to know this case by the back of her hand, because of course she was up against one of the top defense attorneys in the country. He rather lost and found plot holes in every single case, having a 97% success rate with getting his clients off the hook and their record clear. She thought noone would pick up the mans case, there was so much evidence that pointed towards the man.

Harry was attractive, tall, dark hair and those piercing greenish hazel eyes. Y/N was nervous and she hated being that way. Harry often came by the law firm, having connections with anyone and everyone. His career was unmatched, he was handsome, wealthy, the whole package. Yet he was single and that blew Y/N’s mind.

Harry was just as shocked as Y/N to learn they’d facing each other in court. He was certain his client did it, but, he had to defend him anyways. He was called by the court to do it pro bono, as noone else wanted to take the case. If he lost, his numbers would certainly be impacted. If he won, people may look at him differently in a moral sense. Surely though there was a plot hole and the prosecution would slip up. He couldnt believe it was Y/N who got the case. Soft, shy, gorgeous Y/N. He already developed this small crush on her and now he had to take her on in court? Surely this wasnt a good thing. It had to be God punishing him for helping criminals and making a good living while doing so. Harry always viewed her as the more submissive type and his dirty thoughts were hard to keep at bay. Maybe that was the reason God was punishing him.

While Harry laid awake, staring at the ceiling, Y/N was doing the same. Y/N had never seen Harry in action, but, she’s heard how he’s always been strict and concise in the court room. His dominant side coming out, and that scared Y/N. Especially because she imagined him being dominant somewhere else, mainly at night when she lay in bed alone with her thoughts and hands.

[chaoticspeedrun]

saw ur recent post and thought

lets all stereotype the tmnt simps like they’re animals at a zoo together chaotic

[insert funny picture of us staring at the funny ppl in the cage with their desired turtles (i lowkey couldnt find a meme that would suite this 😠😠😠)]

raph simps ; either fiesty gremlins who’ll bite ur toes off if you go near them and spray them with water or sweet little souls who’ll tuck you in bed and give you forehead kisses. both simp types aren’t rare and are commonly found together as a pair, explaining their view on the himbo buff boy raph and how they can either “fix him” or “make him worse”.

leo simps ; traumatized beings, it doesnt matter if you’re a cocky and mean in a loving way or a i’ll do anything you say because you’re so great kind of leo simp, you’re traumatized in some sense, whether it be through fiction or real life. you guys lowkey ENJOYED giving ur oc’s or self inserts loads of angst when it came to the future and movie. man, you guys have so much love for this one turtle his ego is literally thru the roof.

donnie simps ; a true simp. let me guess— you like nerdy men who are also queer as hell, who is also straight as hell at the same time, who is also the type of man you’d expect him to do nice things for you to only throw you under the bus. listen up you simps, i understand that the few of you “down down bad” simps are into that and might sans fangirl your way into this— but let me explain and introduce you into the “ilovehimsomuchiwoulddieforhimandhisbigforehead” simps. you’d be an awesome duo trust.

mikey simps ; now i KNOW you guys got something beneath those precious and fluffy oc and self insert moments. there has gotta be SOME SORT OF EVIL ANGST AND TWISTY MOMENT YOU GOT GOING ON— much more worse than the leo trauma, FARTHER WORSE— teehee you guys got such a cute puppylove selfship going on teehee 😊😊WELL WHABAM!! the moment mikey gets his mystic powers n angsty moment in the movie out comes the freaking angst beast and comfort waves following behind it >:))))

— 🖼️🗝️ (guess whooo 🙃🙃🙃)

Not me looking at the way you signed and going "Who's Keyframe?" I AM HAVING A DIFFICULT TIME FIGURING THIS ONE OUT.

Also, I love psychoanalyzing people💖

In my opinion, from what I have seen at least, most Raph simps I've interacted with are like really sweet and anxious people that REALLY NEED A HUG just like my boy Raph.

The Leo simps, as I said earlier, enjoy bullying him so much- and with that I mean, they're most times the kind of people that tease or bully their crush, but they care so much about him and love adding so much depth to his character.

The Donnie simps I know can't drop the color purple for ONE DANG SECOND, the color is everywhere all the time all at once, they seem very curious and are some of the ones that I see the most active in the fandom.

And Mikey simps are freaking wild, one minute they're the sweetest and the next they're jumping around the walls and scaring you, I love those.

*Sips on coffee, staring at the cages*

Ah yes, what a wonderful and interesting set of specimens.

[thedivineflowers]

hi!!! Love you works they’re so silly and good😜but sad😔 anyway I hope you’re doing well! I wanted to ask for when the boys (idk how many you’ll take but I think if you need a limited amount go with the first years����) but yea when the boys say something plain ass bitchy and mean to middleschool!reader, like how were magic-less useless kid (looking at you Ace😡) saying some shit about our family or babying us too much till it become insufferable or smth and then when we get rightfully upset and cry or get upset (leaning on crying for more drama, angst and guilt😘) they realize how bad they fucked up and apologize, I feel like we would be a little stubborn about the apology depended on who it is to😭 but yea my goofy ahh request take your time and you can switch up the characters it’s your writing I don’t care! Love you works<333

YEHAHAHAHAHAH I LOVE THIS IDEA SM AND I LIKE DONT REALLY HAVE A LIMIT UNLESS I COULDNT REALLY THINK OF SOMETHING SO EYEYEYEY

OKAY IMA ETART IM SOMEZCIYED

I ONLY DID THE FIRST YEARS BECAUSE IT WAS GONNA TAKE SOME TIME AND I DIDNT WANT TO KEEP YOU WAITING SO HERE 😆

Ace: he’d always tease you. And during the first few weeks when he was warming up to you he’d diss you by saying that you were nothing without magic. He even referred to you as the useless and magicless kid for some time. Even after months he still referred to you as that and one day you just bursted. “Why can’t you shut up about me being magicless?! I know I’m at a disadvantage but I’m tired of it! The jokes dead now why can’t you get it!? If I could I’d just make a portal by myself to go back to my world so I don’t have to listen to you all damn day but guess what?! Im just some useless and magicless kid!!” You shouted at tears ran down your face. You stormed away and he tried running after you but you quickly maneuvered away from him. Because of his pride he didn’t apologize for days and stayed quiet when around you. One day after he was given a reality check by Deuce he apologized because guilt was really eating away at him. You still avoided him for a bit just to make sure but your friendship came back together.

Deuce: he kinda has a temper (to me he does) and he’ll let it out sometimes making him call you shit like Ace. But because he is trying to be a good student (and a good friend) he’d be very quiet if he’d call you things but you always manage to him whisper it to himself. One day you two were alone in the classroom doing detention because you two got into a fight when a guy mocked you. “Hey, Deuce.” You called him with an empty tone. “Do you really wish that I had magic. That I had someone to look after me so you didn’t have to stick around me all the time?” You asked as you eyes were glued to the table in front of you. Barely managing to answer the first question on your math homework. “I see how you look at me when I mess something up because I lack magic. I just wanna know.” You said as there was a pressure on your throat. Like you wanted to throw up and let out a yell at the same time. His answer only made the pressure worse as your breathing became short. Did he really think that it’d been better if the magic mirror didn’t pick you? That you’d only stay as the schools janitor? You quickly walked out leaving everything behind to go to the teachers bathroom that you had access to. Everyone thought the same thing about you so why were you throwing up in the sink and crying your eyes out? Because you thought of him as different? No. Deuce came to your dorm later that evening with your completed math homework and backpack. He sighed before apologizing about what he said earlier and the things he’s called you. After some talking your friendship was alright but with rockiness

Jack: At first because you were obviously magicless he’d be very overbearing to you when it comes to things like flying your broom three feet off the ground. He’d chastise you when you used simple spells by waking you up the morning and running with him. He’s trying to protect you but it seems that he underestimates what you know you can and can’t do. You’d get frustrated and try to express that you didn’t need to be babied but the words would just stay stuck in your throat because you knew that he was just trying to look after you. “I can do this Jack! You need to stop worrying about me with small things like having the damn ladle stir itself in the pot! I’m not gonna get hurt with it and I know you’re looking after me but you’re making me uneasy like I could die from just touching a book about small spells! You’ve seen me fly a broom around and be perfectly fine in Mr. Crewels class so what is it that makes you think that I need you breathing down my neck all the time?! Is it because I’m magicless and from another world? Is it because I’m still a kid?” You bubbles over and spewed at him one day while you were making yourself dinner. Jack stood there as he awkwardly looked to the side trying to find an excuse. “I-“ “Im not as fragile as you think. If I was I would’ve been dead.” He’d been contemplating how much magic you could handle and he knows you know that he’s watching over you but he doesn’t know that it was getting overwhelming for you. He avoided you for a bit before apologizing and admitting that he had protected you because he feared you were weak because you were still a kid. You nodded in understanding and forgave him.

Epel: he had a small ego boost because he heard that you were magicless and a child who still knew nothing. He’d also heard Vil chatting away about you and saying mean things even when you were around. So he thought that you wouldn’t mind if he did too. You tried getting along with him at one point but he just pushed you away. “Is there something wrong with me that makes you stay away from me? I know that Im nothing like you but I’m trying to make an effort to get along with you!” You cornered him one day in the hall with small tears about to well over. He had almost nothing to say but a small peep “Does me being magicless and from another world disgust you? If it does then just say it already so I can leave you the hell alone and stop wasting my time trying to make an effort!” You demanded “I- no, not at all! I just…” He cleared his throat away of his country accent. “I thought that a kid like you couldn’t go through so many things and not have anything to hold onto yourself, ‘thought it was silly and that everyone and you were bluffin’ so I pushed you away because I thought you were way over yourself before I even got the chance to talk you properly…” he trailed off as you wiped your eyes and looked at him in understanding. Over time you both tried holding conversations to get to know each other and get warmed up so the same mistake doesn’t happen again. (It is hot in my damn room help 😭)

(The ones from diasomnia don’t really know you here)

Sebek 😈: He’d always talk about it was ‘impossible for a child with nothing to their name’ to even do anything in a world where they didn’t belong when he wasn’t stuffing his mouth with praises for Malleus. How ‘Their parents clearly made a mistake in raising them’ because you couldn’t cast a spell in class without needing help or looking at the instructions again. He’d even insult you in front of Malleus when you do someone like walk past their table “That child has no grace when they walk! Even in the presence of my lord himself! Utterly disgusting!” He’d say and the other three wouldn’t really respond because they hardly know you. One day Mr. Crewel had you two paired in a project so you two went to a secluded place to start (I mean he walked away while you followed after him.). “For the hundredth time that species will poison you! Can’t you understand?! Sevens I don’t know how you’re alive when you can’t even memorize stuff like this.” He muttered as he pinched the space between his eyes. You then slammed your fists in the table with tears of Frustration boiling up. “Can’t you understand that I can’t get a grasp of things here?! I’m only (age) and I’m in the (grade) grade! No sebek I cant understand anything because I’m not from here! I’m not supposed to be here making spells or talking to you because I’m supposed to be in a world where I get shut out like you have done to me because of shit like this! I don’t have an identity but only my face as proof of my existence! I don’t care about this project anymore you can blame me all you want I’m leaving.” You concluded before shoving papers in your bag and hastily walking away before he could even speak. After he had complained of what you said to him to Lilia he suggested that he look at it from your view and apologize. So he did. Which earned him nothing more than a smack on the face and a door to his nose. It’s up to you if you forgive him.

[t4tlottie]

okay so ive been thinking about femme reader who still hasnt accepted being a lesbian (internalized homophobia, but only towards herself. almost like a But im a cheerleader situation where she believes she couldnt be a lesbian because she goes to church or maybe has a bf she lowkey doesn’t like. or maybe both) but has the biggest crush on van. it doubles worse in the wilderness because theres not a whole lot she can do to distance herself from van so anytime she talks to her she just sounds so awkward 😭

thinking about doomcoming,, when she sees tai and van kiss she pretends to be happy but goes to sit by herself for a little bit to process her emotions for a minute. reader accidentally admitting her feelings for van when shes tripping on the shrooms

- ✂️

chalking down your feelings to just it being a really, REALLY big friend crush 😁 maybe every time you think of her as more than a friend though, you call up your stupid boyfriend to hang out and make you forget about the feelings :/ it'd be so funny if ur bf kinda looked like van too....red hair and goofy but you just do not like him 😭

feel like van would be a touchy friend lowkey so whenever you guys hang out it's the worst for you. van who walks you home after hanging out and hugs you tight before leaving and you're smitten dawg. you always wanna ask if she wants to sleep over but you're so awkward. and she'd probably make some excuse to leave anyway because shes going over to tai's 😖

longing looks at van while u watch her eat some soup 😔 thinking of jackie asking you if you miss your boyfriend and ur too busy staring at van to even remember him LMFAO. and to be completely honest, you haven't thought about him once since crashing. after you determined you were fine and didn't have any serious injuries, you immediately went to find van because she was all you could think about. your heart stung a little when taissa found her first.

AND AFTER VAN GETS ATTACKED???? my goddd you could've confessed then but you were just so scared she wasn't going to make it that you cherished each moment with her :(( being ur awkward self while trying to cheer her up and even cleaning up her scars for her :(

thinking of how awkward it would've been the morning after confessing... tai has no idea of this and even though u didn't participate in the 'hunt', you couldn't go back to the cabin so you decided to sleep outside with the rest of them. feeling a pang in your heart when you walk back with them and giving van A Look. maybe angst where she cant look you in the eye because she doesn't feel the same way :/

or maybe a happy ending where van helps you realize you are a lesbian and that you shouldn't be ashamed and that you should be proud!!! joining taivan???? them showing you so many new things and helping you explore ur lesbianism :((

[kiwibongos]

i dont really infodump in general at all but im doing it cus i need some ideas off my chest. do you freak with angst? perhaps an unhappy ending?

// sdr2 chapter 5+ending spoilers ig. also kuzuhina au baybee

so i had an idea of like. what if nagito DID actually bomb the island, taking everyone out alongside himself?

so when nagito finds out that he alongside all the other participants (aside from chiaki) are remnants of despair he just wants to end everything for good bc he doesnt think the ones he called "symbols of hope" deserved to live. so bombs are spread all around the islands forreal this time, and hes still just as vague and ominous, never really specified how many bombs there were, what island it was on, and left it up to the survivors to try and figure it out. so they'd all been searching for days, but to no avail, and at the very last moment when fuyuhiko finds them at the military base (nagito had just freshly died + placed them on the truck), he drags the others there to check it out. once nagito's video message to them ends, the bombs go off alongside a chain of other explosions across every island. the remaining survivors ran out of the factory, barely on time, and everything started crumbling around them, and all the others were downed one by one, crushed underneath falling structures with no time to be saved

but somehow haj and fuyu survived (who were farther away and had more time to react), the others dying right in front of their own eyes. but they ran away, retreating to the warehouse immediately. and hajime just takes a minute to crumble in fuyuhikos arms wishing he couldve saved them. until they hear music echoing in the warehouse. they walk down, and past a curtain, they find nagitos body with a spear through his head. (the fire/poison didnt go off btw, it wasnt really necessary in his plan.)

im sure u can imagine hajime was fucking raging at that point just breaking down and stressing out, how mad he was at nagito for running away like this and inflicting all this pain onto everyone, and monokuma let him do it since yknow, technically he couldnt punish him for a crime he hadnt committed yet, and all this happened in a matter of minutes. but fuyuhiko snaps him out of his panic for a second and knocks something through hajimes head, and the realization hits; it’s just them now. they’re the only ones left

and neither of them know what to do

but their first thought was to get out of this factory as fast as possible, so thats the first thing they do, navigating through the fire and leaving the entire fifth island, and hope that maybe they can find a way out of here, or ask monokuma or monomi for help (since the island is in shambles, they must have to let them go right?), so they wander around, hoping maybe then something would happen, but there wasn't any sight of monokuma or monomi. the fire kept on spreading, the smoke was getting worse, so fuyuhiko and hajime eventually retreat back at the military base (one of the few places untouched by the bombs) so they could catch their breath, collect their thoughts, and make a plan (or hopefully monokuma would come to them, if they stay in one place.)

they just kinda sit inside of a garage for a while, talk a little and comfort eachother through it, hajime is crushed by guilt and horror, but he realizes they wont accomplish anything just by sitting here. and if he couldnt save the others, he can save him and fuyuhiko. so haj leaves fuyuhiko in the garage with determination to think of something to get them off this island somehow. he looks for ways of escape, like the helicopter outside, but no fuel. he looks for materials or tools for a boat, but the island had been extremely lacking in that, everything was either burned or missing by now, so even their most plausible idea was destroyed. when hajime returns to the garage in a panic, pacing around, fuyuhiko realizes they arent getting off this island. they cant wait here forever. but hes known this for a while, and he knows what he has to do now

eventually, he hands hajime a pistol(acquired from the truck of firearms outside), and asks him to kill him so it could finally be over

obviously hajime refuses at first, but fuyuhiko begs him, because he isn’t a good person and he doesn’t have much else to live for, while hajime has singlehandedly saved everyones asses, he deserved to escape more than anyone else here, he basically tells him 'its time you take care of yourself.' by now, hajime was crying, but they’ve been at this dead end for so long, he knew he had to do it or else they’d never be getting off this island. so hajime just had to accept it, so he just holds him close, says his final goodbyes before making it quick for him

pulling that trigger hurt him more than anything, knowing he'd failed to the end, but anyway boom monokuma comes out congratulating him, ends the simulation, and hajime is the winner

also postgame babey; when things end here, hajime would wake up from the simulation, and since he never got to choose his own future alongside everyone else, he wakes up as izuru kamukura, inside the abandoned pod room. he's not entirely empty i think, izuru and hajime still would have "merged" afterwards, but his memories of the simulation are very fuzzy very quickly, so hajime is somewhere in there, mourning, justi n the deepest parts of his mind. but thats a whole thing to get into. the survivors, fuyuhiko, and everything that happened, are just kind of like a vague nightmare that sticks with you no matter how much you try to forget it

but he just leaves the pod room, and lurks around the city without any other purpose to serve anymore, all alone. the future foundation hasnt found him since

edit: side note i was really back and forth on it for a while but i finally wrote this into a fic lol. the brainrot consumes

[lilyamorous]

ft - reo x gn reader , angst

VERRYY SHORT 💜

summary ; you..wont ever love him, will you?

The rich heir had spent each morning making sure he looked perfect before school. Because of reputation? Of course that was one of the reasons, but not the full reason.

It was you, you and your beautiful smile. He first saw you when you were walking to school. You had your bag strap over your shoulder as you chatted and laughed to your friends.

Then, he felt his body freeze as he just looked at you, a feeling he had never felt before overwhelming his entire being.

He shook it off, getting Nagi from his house as he went to school with his driver bringing him there, although his mind had been plagued with just you. How did he not notice you before?

As he walked into the classroom, sitting next to Nagi, he saw you, sitting on the chair at the back. You seemed distracted, looking everywhere but where you were supposed to. Even if you werent focused, he still thought of you as something amazing .

~~~~

Reo had spent a long time looking at you instead of focusing on the lesson. Looking at you, he felt his heart skip a beat, to him, you had become even more stunning the longer he had stared at you, and he couldnt get his eyes off of your figure. You were like a drug to him. He needed you.

When class ended, he planned to go ask if you wanted to hang out with him, maybe just to go to a restaurant or go to a cafe of some sort, maybe even his house? But instead of being able to walk up to you, he felt his mind blare alarms as he saw you talk to another guy in the class.

He bit his lip, continuing to stare over at the two of you. He felt his heart shatter as he watched the boy you were talking to give you a kiss, you laughing as you slapped his elbow.

“Reo, whats wrong? You seem down-“ One of his friends said, but he didnt care, grabbing onto his bag with a harsh grip as he walked out, going home quickly and texting his driver to say he walked.

He felt worse then ever.

In another world, could you perhaps have been his?

If he was quicker, if he saw you before him?

He still loves you. But you dont..

[ilovechubbieguys]

Pretty Please

Chapter- 2 (chapter I)

F!reader, slight angst, swearing, spoiled!reader arrangedhusband!nick Enjoy!

------------------------🎀------------------------

I couldnt believe what i had heard. I mean this has to be some kinda sick joke right? Daddy would never do this to me...

And right as i thought it was over he opened his dirty mouth to start talking again. "I arranged for the 2 of you to meet at 4:30" he said not looking me in the eyes "i suggest you go get dressed" mom chimed in.

She hasnt said a word this whole time and now she decideds to speak up? Worst of all shes ok with this?!

"You guys are sick.." i say before storming up the stairs to my room slamming the door with all my force

What if hes a creep, or a 50 year old man? I dont even know his name?! Theres no way im marrying this man, ya no not in a million years am i marrying some stranger especially not just so my parents can get rich?!

Im over with emotions and begin to sob on my bed. My face in my hands and knees to my chest. I hear a familiar knock. Immediately knowing who it was.

"Come in" i say threw my hands. The door opens and i look up to see my cook steven. "Hey honey i heard what happened" he said slowly coming in sitting next to me on the bed.

The shift in weight was comforting. Knowing that atleast someone was there for me made me feel a little better about this shitty situation.

"They...they cant do that, right?" It stays silent while steven looks for the right words "unfortunately they can..i would come in and save you if i could you know that..i wont let anything bad happen i promise"

I continue crying in my hands and lean my weight onto steven who hugs me "thank you.."

------------------2 hours later-------------------

I put on a nice outfit per my daddys request (imagine like old money like that kinda⬇️)

And headed out my room for the first time since daddy told me the worse news ive ever heard. Well along side when i found out they discontinued my favorite dior lip gloss duh

I saw daddy waiting at the bottom of the spiraling stairs. He was wearing his best suit and mom was no where to be seen. Shocker.

I followed daddy to the limbo not saying a word to him. The whole ride was silent. I mean what more was there to say? He sold me off and didnt even seem to care.

It took us 35ish minutes to get to there mansion, and ill admit it was bigger then ours. But sure as hell not big enough to sell me off to!

Our driven opened my door and i stepped out, and there they where all standing in a line miss donna mister donna and him. Ya i said him CAUSE I STILL DONT KNOW HIS NAME!

Me and daddy walk up to them and take turns shaking hands and then it happened miss donna introduced me to him

"And this is my son nick"

NICK?! his name is nick? Not a very fancy name but who am i to judge

"Hello, Nick," i say with a sour face. Daddy nudged me with his elbow, and i put on a fake smile. "My name is y/n," i say passive aggressively with a clearly fake smile. "Nice to meet you y/n" he said.

"I guess your my wife now..." the air was thick with tension. I gritted my teeth trying to reply nicely "ya i guess so."

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

CHAT I PROMISD THEY WILL GET INTERESTING SOON OK THINGS WILL SPICE UP I SWEAR JUST GOTTA KEEP ON UR TOES.

[riagraie]

I'm going fucking feral over my oc (Hanna) and her relationship with Lloyd, I've had a few things stuck in my head for too long so now you all have to see them too.

Context, really cute/fluffy/angsty/funny quotes or short comvos I've thought about for them.

Hanna will be in purple

Lloyd in green (obviously)

I'll explain the timeline of when the quote happened before each one. And I'll probably be posting an explanation of how they developed eventually lol so it'll make more sense

Advisary phase, still don't like each other (a kid pointed at Hanna and said she looked like an emo bc of her hair)

"Hah.. no. It's natural."

"Its more goth anyway."

"FSM, I hate you."

*little bit later*

".... Emo."

"Shut the FUCK UP! I AM NOT AN EMO!!"

...

Advisory phase, starting to warm up to each other (they are cooking dinner)

"You're literally a ninja. How are you this bad at cutting onions."

"Like you're any better."

"Give me the knife and I'll show you."

"Absolutely not."

"What? Afraid I'll stab you?"

"..Yes!"

...

Crushing phase, they no longer hate one another and Lloyd is fr crushing hard on Hanna... she doesn't notice and doesn't realize shes crushing hard for Lloyd too (they're chilling at the monastery and Lloyd finds Hanna trying to braid her hair and failing)

"Need some help Han?"

"No........ Maybe.....fine.. yes I do."

*after Lloyd's done*

"Thanks."

"Anytime, just have to ask sweets."

...

Hardcore flirting phase, not official yet but heavily flirting with each other(they just woke up and ran into each other in the hall)

"Good morning angel."

"Mornin' gorgeous."

"Uh.." (she doesn't handle compliments well, but dishes them out fine lmao)

...

Official couple now gang (Hanna went off to a meeting with the main villain for echoes of the echoed and Lloyd followed her...angst lol)

"I couldnt just stand by and watch you walk into a trap."

"I get it, okay? I'm not a ninja and I can barely control my powers. But I thought my boyfriend would have a little more faith in me."

...

Official couple (angst and fluff bc why not, Hanna's stressing out)

"I should just leave, let you and the others handle it. I'm not useful, I'm a liability."

"No, you shouldn't leave."

"Why not Lloyd? Every time something has gone to hell it was only made worse because of me."

"Because, I don't want you to leave. I don't give a damn how many things go wrong, I'll take care of every single one if it means you stay."

"B-but.."

"Stop it. Your not useless, your not a liability. Your amazing, beautiful, and so much stronger than you know."

"...Lloyd.."

"The team needs... I..need you here. Please sunshine."

"... Okay.."

...

I will be sharing how they said ily first, how they got together in the first place, and some other HCs probably. Plus the relationship development explanation soon.