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megalony · 2 days ago

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Don't Let Me Go

This is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by anon. Thank you for this idea I absolutely loved writing it I had so much fun and I hope you will all like it.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) and Eddie have just had their first baby together, but (Y/n) doesn't know what to do when she starts to feel low. And she doesn't feel like she can look after the kids on her own.

(Descriptions of post-partum depression)

Enjoy.

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Closing her eyes, (Y/n) tilted her head forward and tried to stop herself from bursting out into tears. She shifted her heavy, weighted arms up a little while her head bent forward so her lips were meshing against her newborn's head.

The little girl was finally quiet, but to (Y/n), it felt like those cries were still swirling around in her head on full pelt. All she could hear was Lilah's incessant crying that tortured her all day long when Eddie was at work.

All night, (Y/n) had been up and down, up and down. She fed her, she rocked her when she wouldn't settle, she tried cuddling her but it didn't do much good. Lilah kept snivelling and whimpering like (Y/n) was a big bad monster. In the end, (Y/n) just went to sleep and kept her baby on her chest to whimper as much as she liked.

It must have worked because when she woke up a few hours later, Lilah was asleep and Eddie's hand was resting on the newborn's back.

She took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down and focused her eyes on Lilah so she didn't have to look around her. Her hand cradled the back of her head and she cuddled her closer, wishing they could both curl up and disappear.

"We can go home soon."

It wasn't as if they had been out all day. (Y/n) didn't have the strength or the energy for that. She had barely gotten from the bedroom into the living room. Then (Y/n) had burst into tears when she got comfy on the sofa and Lilah woke up crying for her bottle. Trekking into the kitchen and physically making a bottle had stolen every ounce of (Y/n)'s energy.

She wished Eddie was home.

(Y/n) knew it would be hard when Eddie went back to work after having two weeks at home with her and the kids. She just didn't realise how hard it was going to feel, being at home with Chris and Lilah without Eddie there as that extra support.

It would be alright if (Y/n) didn't feel like this. If she didn't feel so sluggish and broken. When Eddie was home it felt better. (Y/n) could ask him to hold Lilah or feed her so she could take a nap and he didn't bat an eyelid. She could move slowly about the house or just sit down with the kids and he didn't fuss. He took Chris to school and took Lilah for a walk to pick him up which gave (Y/n) a little while to herself.

Not anymore.

It had taken everything within (Y/n)- and a broken sob- to get herself up, put on her shoes and trudge out to the car. Driving had felt so frightening to (Y/n) because she could barely concentrate on whether the lights were green or red.

There was no possible way she could of left any earlier and walked Lilah to pick Chris up like Eddie sometimes did. (Y/n) had no willpower to move, she couldn't make it all the way there and back. It was either drive or try and call someone to bring Chris home, and (Y/n) couldn't call anyone and have them know that she felt so useless that she couldn't pick him up herself.

She burrowed herself further into Lilah whose little legs were wriggling and bashing into (Y/n)'s stomach every now and then. All (Y/n) wanted was for Lilah to settle down and go to sleep so that when they got home, (Y/n) could sleep too.

Whenever Lilah went to sleep these last few days without Eddie, (Y/n) had slept too. It was all she seemed to want to do. It was the only thing (Y/n) could do right.

She darted her eyes up and looked around the other parents waiting outside the school gates. (Y/n) was stood three feet from the car. It was a strategy. Standing this close to the car meant she didn't have to move far, Chris could still see her, and most importantly, no one would approach.

Everyone else was stood closer to the gates, all in their little coven circles, nattering away to each other. (Y/n) didn't want to be a part of that. She couldn't. She could barely string a sentence together and if the other parents started talking to her, they would see how useless of a mother she was turning out to be.

Lilah was (Y/n)'s first baby. When she married Eddie, she adopted Chris- something he had asked her to do himself- and it was the best thing in the world. Finding out she was pregnant a few months after their wedding was even better. They wanted kids, God (Y/n) wanted a baby of her own.

The other parents she knew from Chris's school had all been lovely, congratulating them, asking about the baby. They had all seen Lilah when Eddie came down to pick Chris up during those two weeks he was off.

Having Lilah was like a dream, but (Y/n) felt like she had changed personas somewhere along the line. She came home from the hospital and seemed to slump. She wanted to sit down, she had no will power to move. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton all the time, she was constantly fighting migraines.

And she didn't have low moods, she had no mood at all. Like she was on a factory setting, not happy, not frustrated or angry or sad, just… blank.

Having Eddie home made her feel better. He was a natural with the kids, with Lilah, and when he wrapped his arms around (Y/n), she felt soothed and relaxed and like her migraine was disappearing. But he had gone to work, and as soon as he left for that first day, (Y/n) broke down in tears.

She felt like she had been abandoned.

At some point, (Y/n) was frightened she was going to turn into some little puppy, crying by the front door from the moment Eddie walked out until the moment he came back home after work.

That thought frightened her like nothing else.

Relief swarmed in her eyes when she watched the kids start to flood out the gates towards them. As soon as Chris was with her, she could go back home. (Y/n) had been out the house for too long, she wanted to be back inside where she was safe and isolated and away from prying eyes.

"Mum!" Chris wriggled one arm out of his crutch when he reached her and glued himself into (Y/n)'s side, smothering his face in her stomach as he grinned. The touch made (Y/n) want to burst into tears and smile brighter than the sun at the same time, but she couldn't seem to do either.

He sounded so happy to see her, although she didn't know why. Why would anyone be happy to see her? She hadn't done anything of significance, she wasn't even being a proper mum right now. She felt useless.

"Hi, good day?" Her voice was on the verge of cracking when she lowered Lilah in her arms so she could lean down and kiss Chris's curls. She had to make some sort of effort with him.

She couldn't help but wonder what Chris had been like as a baby. She wondered if Shannon had ever struggled to get him settled and if he was a fussy baby. She wondered if Chris had been as glued to Eddie as their daughter now was, but then again, (Y/n) wasn't sure because Eddie had been in the army. He was away a lot so it would of been natural for Chris to cling to Shannon, not him.

Whereas Eddie was around now. He had been here for all of (Y/n)'s pregnancy, not just the birth and he spent the first two weeks barely putting Lilah down. Going back to work didn't change how infatuated Eddie was with Lilah and she always settled for him straight away.

It was overwhelming to have Chris attached to (Y/n) considering Lilah seemed to want Eddie more. She had made up her mind that her dad was better, but (Y/n) knew she could count on Chris to want and love her. He never got upset and demanded to have Eddie instead.

"It was fun," He reached his hand up and gently brushed his fingers up and down Lilah's back who wasn't crying or whimpering anymore, just fidgeting.

When (Y/n) nodded towards the car, Chris beamed and hurried to open the back door for (Y/n) since she had Lilah in her arms. He put his crutches and bag in the back and climbed in the front seat.

(Y/n) was glad to set Lilah down. It felt nice to cuddle her, but it was effort. Picking her up and soothing her was so much time and effort that (Y/n) physically couldn't seem to find at the moment. She hoped the car ride would put her right to sleep and that she wouldn't wake until Eddie came home.

Did that make her selfish?

"Let's go home." Her voice was quiet and she wasn't sure Chris even heard her, but it didn't really matter.

When she climbed in the car, all (Y/n) wanted to do was curl up and close her eyes, but she was the adult here. She was the one in charge. She nodded when Chris pointed to the radio. That was a good idea. (Y/n) couldn't afford to have no background noise because if there were no distractions, what would stop her from falling asleep right now?

"Not too loud," She murmured and ran her hand up and down her aching temple before she put the car in gear. The sooner they left the sooner they could get back home.

She didn't want the music loud. Usually she, Chris and Eddie would always have it loud and they would sing and blast out their favourite songs. But (Y/n) couldn't handle the noise. Background noise to keep her awake was fine, but loud noise to thunder along with her headache would only make her cry. And it would disturb Lilah which she couldn't afford when she couldn't settle her again; not yet.

Chris sat forward and began bopping along to the music, looking out the window like he was in a world of his own. Every now and then he looked over at (Y/n) and those chocolate eyes pulled at something in her chest. She didn't feel like talking, but he might.

"T- tell me about your day." It hurt to force herself to speak when all she wanted to do was go mute.

What she wanted was to disappear from the world.

But she didn't want to make Chris aware of that or make him feel bad, and the way he smiled and started to babble in a similar manner to his uncle Buck when he was excited made (Y/n)'s heavy heart lift just a little.

(Y/n) could feel tears burning in her eyes when they finally pulled up at home. All she wanted was get Lilah and curl up in bed with her. (Y/n) wanted to go to sleep and wake up with Eddie at home, there to sort everything out and make everyone feel a hundred times better.

"…mum?"

"Hm?" She bit down on her lip when she moved her hand to her temple and realised her hands were trembling.

Her shaking fingers scoured against her temple, pressing and rubbing circles into her skin to no avail. It did nothing to rid her of the thunder inside her head; the tormenting weather that no one else could see or feel. The pain that was growing and becoming agitating to the point (Y/n) was ready to lie in bed and never get up until her headache relented.

She looked over at Chris who was smiling as he flung his belt off, ready to get out the car.

"Can we watch a movie?"

She guessed by his tone that he had already asked her that and she hadn't heard him. Thank God. Thank God he was asking her that and not asking if they could do a puzzle or build another Lego creation or play a game. (Y/n) didn't have that much strength within her. But a movie, she could do.

"A movie in bed?" She loved the way Chris nodded and bolted from the car as if it were a race. (Y/n) might beat him to the bed if it was a race.

She could do that. She could get out the car, get Lilah, trudge through the house and collapse in bed with the kids. They had a crib attached to the side of the bed so keep Lilah close at night, and it was a godsend. It was originally so they didn't have to get up and go into the nursery five or six times a night to settle her or change and feed her. Having her in their room was so much easier.

But having the crib attached to the bed was better for (Y/n) when she felt like this. If Lilah whimpered, all she had to do was reach her hand across and her baby was there. She didn't physically have to get out of bed to pick her up and lay with her, only to go and make the bottles.

Right now, all (Y/n) had to do was prompt herself and plan out the route of getting from the car to the bed.

She could do that.

***

Running his hands up and down his face, Eddie tried to ward off the tiredness in his eyes as he stifled a yawn. His bare feet padded along the laminate hallway and his hands switched to scratch along the back of his neck. He felt like going to bed. He'd made the wrong decision of catching two hours of sleep on a night shift at the station last night and it had made him lethargic all day. He should have powered through instead.

He could hear the tv blaring with the movie Chris was happily watching before going to bed and Eddie prayed both kids would manage to sleep so he could have a bit of time with (Y/n) before the pair of them conked out asleep too.

He peered into the nursery since the door was partially open, but the room was empty. He continued down the hall and padded into his and (Y/n)'s room, but again came up empty. The light was on, the curtains were drawn and a pile of clothes were placed on the end of the bed. She had to be in the bathroom.

Eddie changed course and shuffled from the bedroom across to the bathroom. He lightly rapped his knuckles on the door and headed inside with a gentle smile lighting up his face when he looked towards the bath.

For a moment he thought (Y/n) was asleep. She was slouched down in the bath, her head barely resting on the edge of the tub and her knees were slightly bent, just scraping the surface of the water.

She had her eyes closed and her chin and lips submerged in the water, causing soft ripples to break out through the water with every breath she took. And her hands were tightly bound on Lilah's sides, keeping the newborn propped up against her knees and sat on her abdomen.

The sight made Eddie's heart explode in his chest and a surge of warmth spread through his blood. Although he was the tiniest bit unsure because of how relaxed (Y/n) seemed; the thought of her falling asleep in the bath with Lilah in her arms was daunting, even if it was far-fetched.

"Hey, there are my girls."

His voice was quiet and he used the edge of the bath so he could kneel down on the bathmat. His arms folded on the edge of the bath and he leaned his chin on his arms while his eyes looked over his wife.

He watched the way (Y/n) blearily blinked and turned her head in his direction, and the foggy look in her eyes told him she was even more tired than he thought when he came home. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks, but Eddie was sure that wasn't the case.

Her eyes almost looked vacant, there was something distant in them that made Eddie feel like they were standing hundreds of miles apart rather than being less than a foot away like this.

The little hum (Y/n) let out made Eddie smile and (Y/n) slowly drifted her eyes from Eddie over to Lilah before locking back on him again.

All she wanted to do was disappear under the water and see if it would make her feel any better. To see if it would make her feel something, anything, other than dull and tired. She was almost numb. The hot water had relaxed her, but now (Y/n) felt like she was too relaxed, like she was about to slip into an abyss and never wake up again. And she didn't want to take Lilah with her into a dark abyss like that.

"Want me to take her? You look like you're about to fall asleep in here."

Eddie reached one hand out so he could brush Lilah's cheek. He was surprised the newborn was so settled and calm in here, she too looked like she was on the verge of falling asleep. The water must be comforting to her.

It took everything within (Y/n) to stop herself from falling asleep in here. She knew she couldn't. A lapse in focus for even a second could cause her to loosen her grip on Lilah and have her baby sliding under the water. (Y/n) couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't.

Deep down she knew she should have tried to settle Lilah before she came in the bath. At least then, if (Y/n) wanted to sleep or let herself submerge under water for a while, she wouldn't have to focus on keeping her baby safe. But she couldn't ask Eddie to take her when he had been with her most of the morning, it wouldn't be fair.

And for once, Lilah hadn't been crying when (Y/n) had fed her and cuddled her. It felt too good of a moment to let go, if Lilah was settled for her (Y/n) wanted the moment to last.

(Y/n) wanted to agree, she wanted to let Eddie take Lilah, but she couldn't. She was the mother. She had barely done anything today, she had to at least try and act the part even if she didn't feel it right now.

She tried to speak, to form a sentence and actually talk, but she could barely get one word out.

"Headache." Her eyes looked up to her temple before she closed them and sank back down in the water.

"Again?" A spark of worry ignited in Eddie's voice as he leaned his cheek on his left arm so he could move his right hand out towards (Y/n). His knuckles brushed against her cheek and his thumb swiped beneath her eye just as (Y/n) leaned her head into his touch. She pressed her warm, sodden lips into the back of his hand, wishing they could just stay like this forever.

The lack of response gave Eddie his answer and he sighed as he leaned up so his chest was pressing into the edge of the bath. He moved his hand to nudge beneath (Y/n)'s chin and tilted her head up enough so that he could steal a kiss.

It was strange to feel her lips so warm like this and the constant trickling of water running down the bridge of her nose and dampening both their lips made Eddie's nerves ignite. Their noses brushed and when he looked back into her eyes, his heart was struck when he thought she was about to cry.

His hand stayed cradling her face for a few seconds before he reached out and swiped a towel from the rail.

"Let me take her, and I'll grab you some painkillers."

(Y/n) nodded, barely having the energy to lean up for another kiss, but she tried. She felt his lips move to peck her cheek, then her neck and her eyes closed again to relish in the touch that seemed to linger on her skin and take her mind off the tears threatening to spill over.

She felt oddly empty when Eddie carefully eased Lilah from her arms and wrapped her up in a towel.

He cradled their girl against his chest, meshing his lips with the top of her head while he hummed and slowly got to his feet. But his eyes continued to find their way back to (Y/n). He didn't want to leave her, something was drawing him back like she was upset or in need of something, but he wasn't sure what. His hand smoothed up and down Lilah's back as he headed out the bathroom and into the nursery to get her changed. He would get a drink and some painkillers for (Y/n) so she would feel better when she got out the bath.

(Y/n) felt like going back to sleep. She felt like letting herself slump under the water and seeing what would happen, but she didn't. She couldn't.

She had to get out the bath now before she lost the little energy she had left. The energy she had reserved ready to will herself to get out the bath with Lilah.

If she didn't move now, (Y/n) knew she would lay here until the water went cold and then after that too. She would stay here until Eddie came looking for her again and she would panic him if she just went to sleep here. It didn't matter that she wanted to stay submerged in the water where she could escape. It didn't matter that getting out the bath and getting into pyjamas actually took effort.

Nothing mattered anymore.

The moment she was out the bath, tears began to trickle down her face as she slumped onto her knees on the bathmat in Eddie's vacant place and dragged a towel around her shivering frame. It wasn't cold. She didn't know why she was shaking like she was when she couldn't be, not after being in the hot water for half an hour or longer.

She was glad she had left her hair tied up. Washing her hair was such an effort and (Y/n) couldn't be bothered with it recently. Dry shampoo had become her best friend. Washing her hair involved effort, it was time consuming and the act of then having to dry her hair was even worse. (Y/n) didn't have the effort, and she hated walking around with wet hair.

She bowed her head and tightened her arms around her frame, letting the towel soak the remnants of water from her skin rather than actually drying herself. This was simpler. This was easier.

Everything drained from her head once she pushed up onto unsteady feet and secured the towel around her frame. She usually brought her clothes into the bathroom and got changed in here. She wasn't sure why she forgot her clothes.

A shuddering breath left her lips when she walked into the bedroom and noticed Lilah was already in her cot attached to the side of the bed. She wasn't asleep, but she was on her way. How long had (Y/n) been in the bathroom willing herself to get dry if Eddie had changed, dressed her and settled her already?

Loose tears trickled down the bridge of her nose, but (Y/n) swiped them from existence and set on getting changed. The feeling of Eddie's shirt hanging off her frame was comforting. His scent was calming and (Y/n) pulled the collar up so it rested on the bridge of her nose so she was overwhelmed with Eddie's scent while she wore her own underwear and pyjama shorts that somehow didn't feel right compared to Eddie's clothes. Nothing about (Y/n) or her things felt right anymore.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Eddie's voice took her by surprise and she turned to watch him walk back into the room. He set down a glass of juice and some tablets on the bedside table but once he perched down on the edge of the bed, (Y/n) moved too.

She didn't really think, she seemed to move on autopilot, aiming for Eddie like he was the only thing she could see and understand.

When she sat down on his lap, his arms moved to accomodate her and surprise flooded his face, although he would never complain. He wound his arms around (Y/n)'s waist while she deadlocked her arms around his neck and burrowed her face into his neck.

The feeling of each breath Eddie took pressing against her nose and the thumping of his pulse was consuming and warming and (Y/n) could smell his aftershave which always made her feel like she was home wherever they were.

"Amor, are you okay?" Eddie's voice seemed to fall on deaf ears while he glided his hand up and down (Y/n)'s back and his lips attached to the top of her head. He tried to tilt his head back and lean his chest back a little so he could look down at her, but he was in shock to see (Y/n) was practically half asleep.

She could barely open her eyes and she couldn't formulate any words either. Her arms squeezed his neck and her legs bound tight around his torso, clinging to him like she was afraid someone was suddenly going to tear him away from her.

He found himself leaning forward into her and peppering kiss after kiss against her temple to see if it would do any good. It was evident (Y/n) didn't feel well and Eddie wanted to make her feel better, or at least calm her down in any way he could.

He automatically started to sway them from side to side while he stayed perched on the end of the bed. Not daring to move because (Y/n) seemed so calm and relaxed like this and he didn't want to shift the atmosphere.

But Eddie was sure he could hear her murmuring "Don't let me go." into his neck, and it made shivers break out beneath his skin.

***

I can't do anything.

That one thought swirled around in (Y/n)'s head more than anything else. The words danced in front of her eyes. The voice in her head was whispering them so much that it was the only thing she could comprehend.

Tears began to slither down the bridge of her nose as she tried to turn her head and smother her face into the cushion, but it wasn't working. Nothing she did was making her feel any better. Nothing made her feel normal; like herself.

Who was she? Why was she feeling like this?

Her knees coiled up higher to her stomach and her arms bound around her chest while she tucked herself down into the sofa like a child trying to disappear. (Y/n) wanted to disappear. She didn't want to feel like this anymore. She wanted to feel like herself, not whoever was now trapped in her body with her.

She couldn't move. She couldn't find the energy to get up off the sofa where she had been for most of the morning. Her throat was parched and dry from silent sobs, but she didn't hold the strength to go and get a drink. She didn't have the willpower to be bothered about getting a drink either.

She had a headache whether she drank gallons of water or forgot when the last time she had a drink was, so what did it matter if she didn't go and get one?

Her body was sluggish like it wasn't truly under her control anymore. She didn't have the willpower to get up for anything.

She wasn't hungry, she wasn't thirsty. She didn't have any motivation to move around the house. She couldn't take baths anymore because they were too tempting to slip under the water and she couldn't drag herself out of them. (Y/n) couldn't even get a shower yesterday or today because the effort was too much.

And her moods didn't feel like she was even sad, she just felt blank. A plain canvas, desperate for someone to streak a splash of colour across her and make her feel something. (Y/n) would give anything to feel angry, to feel like screaming or shouting or have too much energy and no way of letting it out. She would give everything in the world to feel as happy as she did in the months leading up to Lilah's birth.

She wanted to feel as excited, thrilled and loving as she did when she thought about being a mum while she was pregnant. She didn't think she would feel like this.

It felt horrible.

When a little sniffle followed by a whimper broke through the barrier in (Y/n)'s ears, she could feel her chest quivering as her eyes cast down to her daughter.

Lilah had been asleep in the rocker that (Y/n) had dragged as close to the sofa as she could so they were side by side. Not that (Y/n) could really find the energy to look after either of her kids today.

"Please…" (Y/n) wasn't sure what she was asking of her baby girl and she couldn't seem to find any more words than that.

But when Lilah whimpered again, flood waves burst down (Y/n)'s face and a matching, feeble sound clawed at the back of her throat. Was it time to feed Lilah already? She couldn't. She couldn't do it. She wasn't sure she would be able to move from the sofa or try her luck picking her daughter up.

Her hands began to scratch at her chest like she was clawing her way towards her heart that was fracturing into millions of tiny pieces all around her chest. As if she could bear her pain and show Lilah she couldn't help her; that she couldn't give her what she wanted. What was she going to do?

"Mum, want some dinner?"

Chris wandered out the kitchen and aimed for the living room to see if his mum was still in there. She told him this morning they would be having a chill day today and she had let him spend the morning playing video games in his room while she and Lilah had been in here.

About half an hour ago, Chris had made a sandwich since he was hungry and he presumed (Y/n) had been asleep. He didn't want to wake her when he could make himself something to eat. But he knew his mum hadn't had dinner yet either and Eddie told him to help and look after both girls when he went back to work.

The eleven year old went into the living room and stood by the end of the sofa, leaning over the arm rest so he could look over at (Y/n).

His head tilted to one side and his brows furrowed when he looked down at her. She was curled up in that manner that Chris would lay when he had stomach ache or when he wasn't well. He couldn't see her face, she was hiding in the pillow. And when he realised his baby sister was subtly whimpering and kicking in her rocker, he found it very odd.

Usually if Lilah began to cry, either parent would pick her up and see what she needed. And Chris could see (Y/n) wasn't asleep, she was shaking like she was cold.

"Are you sick?"

When Chris pressed his hand against her temple, (Y/n) couldn't help the way she shuddered and how mor tears streamed down her face and soaked into the cushion.

She was the adult. She was the parent, the one who was supposed to be taking care of him and Lilah. And she was laid here, useless, needing help herself like she had been reduced to a child.

She tried to move one hand away from clawing at her chest, and she managed to reach out and squeeze Chris's wrist, giving him the tiniest bit of comfort she could muster. When she seemed to lose her energy, she flopped her hand over the side of the sofa and laid her hand on Lilah's chest. The newborn temporarily stopped whimpering at the touch, but then she continued to kick her legs out and began to cry.

She was hungry.

She had to be hungry, (Y/n) couldn't remember when she last fed her. What kind of mother did that make her?

She needed to move. She needed to get up and pick her daughter up and go and feed her and look after Chris too, but she couldn't. (Y/n) didn't think she held the strength to pick up her baby, as horrible as that might make her.

"Mum?" Chris didn't like this. She still hadn't talked to him or said if she was okay. Was he supposed to go to his room again and leave her like this? Was he meant to sit down next to her? Should he try and cuddle Lilah for a while until (Y/n) felt well enough to move?

"Please… pl- call your dad." Why was it so much effort to talk? Why was it so hard to use her broken voice and gather strength to get her dry throat to work and talk for a change?

(Y/n) kept her eyes closed so she wouldn't have to look up and witness Chris's expression.

She didn't want to know whether he was angry at her or panicking or wondering why his mum was so useless and silly. (Y/n) didn't want to see the disappointment hiding within his eyes. She just wanted to make everything stop or make herself disappear.

Chris didn't need to be told twice.

As soon as she asked, he backed up and made his way down the hallway towards his room to get his phone. He flopped onto his bed, tapping his toes against the floor while his legs jittered up and down.

What would he do if his dad didn't answer? He couldn't always pick up the phone when he was at work. If he couldn't answer, did that mean that Buck wouldn't be able to pick up either? Would he have to call Carla if he couldn't get hold of anyone? Or maybe Maddie at 911?

"Dad?" Relief like never before swelled inside of Chris when his dad answered after four rings. Expertly cutting off the inner monologue and the doubling panic inside of Chris.

"Chris, everything okay?"

It wasn't normal for Eddie to get a phone call from Chris when he was at work. He couldn't remember the last time Chris had called him like this. It was usually (Y/n) and even then she asked him first and then called so Chris could speak to him before he went to sleep or if he wanted to talk about something.

The one and only time Eddie had gotten a phone call at work from his family was when (Y/n) had fallen and she needed him to take her to the hospital.

"Can you come help mum?" Those five little words were enough to spark a fire within Eddie and have him walking away from the kitchen so he could take this call in private.

"Help her, why what's happened? Has she had a fall?"

"I don't know… she's crying, and- and she can't get up from the sofa, she said to call you."

That didn't sound right. (Y/n) crying told Eddie that she was conscious and awake, and clearly in some sort of pain or agony. She didn't usually cry in front of Chris, she used to shy away from Eddie in the beginning of their relationship so he wouldn't see her cry.

But she wasn't in the bathroom or the kitchen after a fall or a cooking accident like he would typically expect. Had she been sick? Had she woken up in agony? What was the problem?

"Can you put her on the phone for me please?" Eddie needed to talk to her. He needed to know what was going on.

He heard Chris hum and he tangled his hand in the short hairs at the back of his head while he waited. His foot began to tap against the floor and he found himself holding his breath to try and calm his system down while he heard Chris shuffling and stomping, presumably into the living room to find (Y/n).

When he reached the living room, Chris held the phone out towards (Y/n), muttering a quiet "I called dad," to try and get her to talk to him. But he frowned when (Y/n) shook her head and burrowed her face into the cushion.

She seemed to have curled up even more since he left the room. Her body was contorted into a tiny ball and she had pulled the collar of her shirt up towards her eyes so Chris could barely see her. And so he couldn't see the tears streaming down her face.

"She can't talk, she's upset."

"Fuck… tell her I'm coming home now, okay? Please stay there with her until I get home."

One hundred and one thoughts ran through Eddie's mind on the way home. He was so panicked he wasn't sure whether he had gone through a red light or not, and he didn't have time to care.

What was wrong with his wife? Had she hurt herself? Had she been sick? It had been just over a month since she had Lilah so it couldn't be any complication after birth like an infection, that would of shown up sooner than this. Eddie could think of quite a few different things that could be wrong, and all of them were frightening.

By the time he pulled up in the drive he was in a state of panic, almost shaking from uncertainty and paranoid thoughts. Part of him wished he had taken Hen up on her offer to come with him and see if she could help in any way. But when Eddie didn't know the problem, he didn't want to have anyone else involved.

He barely shut the door behind him as he sped through the hall and into the living room, guessing that they were still in there since Chris said (Y/n) couldn't move from the sofa.

He paused in the doorway once he reached the living room, scanning the scene in the same way he did when he approached a scene at work.

Chris was sat on the floor in between the sofa and the arm chair, legs crossed, cheek leaning on the sofa to be closer to (Y/n). He had one hand stretched out, gently nudging the rocker where Lilah was whimpering but not making too much of a fuss at the moment. But his other hand was tightly squeezing (Y/n)'s hand like he was either comforting her or trying to keep her awake.

Not that (Y/n) looked like she was about to pass out. Eddie could barely see her. He had to step closer into the room to get a proper look at his wife. She was laid on the sofa, knees embedded into her chest so much that it must be hurting her stomach. One arm was hidden against her chest while she other hung limply off the side of the sofa to hold Chris's hand.

Her face was tucked into the cushion, but it was her expression that was frightening Eddie. Tears streaked down her face. Eyes half-lidded, lower lip wobbling as shuddering breaths left her lips.

"Buddy, can you give me a minute to help your mum please?" Leaning over, Eddie cupped the back of Chris's head and gently kissed her curls.

His heart almost burst when he watched Chris slowly get up, press a tender kiss to (Y/n)'s temple and head down the hall towards his room. He knew Eddie would assess and look after (Y/n) now he was home, there was no need for Chris to worry anymore.

Once he was out of view, Eddie weaved around the rocker and perched down on the sofa beside (Y/n)'s thighs.

"Baby, can I take a look at you?"

Eddie wasn't sure what to do first. He couldn't see any blood or a point of pain that (Y/n) was cradling or sobbing about. He could see she was awake and alert so he didn't have to worry about her passing out or having some kind of internal bleed or problem.

His hands slithered down (Y/n)'s arms to gently hold her biceps so he could try and lift her up. He couldn't help her if she continued to lay like this, he had to sit her up to assess her and talk to her. But the moment he reeled her up so she was sitting up with him, he was taken back.

Her arms deadlocked around his chest and she meshed her face into his chest like she was trying to turn them into one being.

He could feel each harsh breath she took and the tears that were soaking into his shirt and the way she was trembling was making him shake too. He curved an arm around her waist while his other hand cupped the back of her neck and he pressed a lasting kiss to the top of her head.

"Talk to me amor, what's going on?" The soft tone in Eddie's voice and the underlying tone of understanding made (Y/n) wail. She didn't want him to understand or be nice to her. She didn't deserve it.

When Eddie tried to tilt her back so he could look down at her properly, he pursed his lips when (Y/n) shook her head. She tried to cling to him even more until she was cutting off his breathing and making his chest pulse with a dull ache.

Instead of letting go, Eddie pressed his arms firmly around (Y/n) to the point he was sure he would hurt her in a minute, but it seemed to do the trick. Pinning her to him this tightly seemed to stop her from shaking and made her feel comforted, maybe even safe, he wasn't sure. But he was glad it worked.

"Talk to me," He repeated quietly. This clearly wasn't any sort of injury which was a bit of a relief, it meant Eddie wouldn't have to make a trip with the family down to the emergency room. But it still didn't tell him what the problem was.

"I don't know, I can't… I can't do anything. I feel bleak, my head… I want- I want to shut down."

It seemed to take a while for (Y/n) to find her words, but they didn't feel right. She couldn't find the right way to express how she felt or convey to Eddie what the problem was, but what she said clearly seemed to make sense to him because he nodded against her head and hummed.

She was so focused on breathing in his scent and meshing her face into his chest that she gasped when she realised his arms were no longer pinned around her. His hands carefully cupped her face and he tilted her head back so she was looking up at him, he wanted to check her over.

There was a mental checklist in Eddie's head while he leaned his chin down and looked into her eyes.

She was having a lot of headaches, she was suffering low moods. She was more tired than Eddie had ever seen her before and she was finding it hard to get up and to even start sentences and carry on a conversation.

"Do you still feel tired? Chris said you didn't feel able to get up." When she nodded, he hummed and ticked off another point in his mental list. "Have you eaten anything or had something to drink?" The shake of her head made Eddie's chest shudder.

His hands dropped from her face so his arms could bind around her, and (Y/n) didn't have to cling to him for Eddie to know she wanted to be held tightly. He squeezed her into him and leaned his cheek on top of her head while he gently swayed them from left to right.

He paused and waited while (Y/n) tried to move, but Eddie could feel how sluggish she was and the amount of effort it took for her to shift even a tiny bit on the sofa.

Eddie felt somehow relieved when (Y/n) twisted around so she could sit on his thighs and her arms bound back around his chest while she tucked back into him like a child seeking comfort. He gripped her waist, digging his fingers lovingly into her hip while he merged his lips with her temple and tried to kiss away her headache.

He knew the problem.

Eddie was ashamed it had taken this long for him to see the signs. (Y/n) had to get to this point for Eddie to realise something was wrong. Chris had to call him at work for him to see just how bad things were and to come home and try to help instead of blunder on, oblivious to his wife's torment.

She was depressed. Having Lilah had switched something in (Y/n)'s mind and during this last month, she had developed post-partum depression.

Eddie hadn't thought of this happening. He had missed the first four months with Chris being a baby because he had to finish his tour in the army. Shannon hadn't experienced any depression after having Chris, and neither had his sisters when they had their kids.

With how happy and excited they had been to have Lilah, Eddie vainly assumed (Y/n) wouldn't be at risk of developing this. But in hindsight he should have talked to her before now to make sure.

"Okay, I'm gonna call Bobby and let him know I can't go back to work for the next few days. And then I'm gonna get you an appointment with the doctor as soon as possible, we'll get you some help."

He could already see the phone calls planning out in his head. Bobby would understand. He would agree straight away that Eddie couldn't go back to work until (Y/n) was getting some help, he couldn't leave her like this and he had to look after the kids too.

And Eddie would ring the doctors now and make them give (Y/n) the earliest appointment. He didn't know the last time she had something to eat or drink, she was in agony in her mind and she couldn't get up. She needed an emergency appointment and Eddie wasn't giving up until someone listened to him and helped his wife.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't say that. You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me?" He went back to swaying them from side to side while his hand ran up and down her back to try and calm her down.

She hadn't asked for this. She hadn't done anything to cause this and Eddie wouldn't have (Y/n) apologising when she hadn't done anything wrong. She was sick and she needed help, and that was exactly what was going to happen.

"I'm their mum, a-and I can't…"

I can't even finish a sentence.

A shudder passed through her body while she pressed up into Eddie, clutching him tighter like she thought he was going to agree with her. But the understanding in him was so loving and natural that (Y/n) didn't know what to think or do.

When she asked Chris to call Eddie, she did it because the kids needed him, not because she did. But having him comfort her and hold her broken pieces together like this was a remedy (Y/n) didn't know she needed until now. Eddie was going to help her. He wasn't going to let her feel like this for a moment longer and that was comforting.

(Y/n) didn't want to feel like this. She wanted to be a mother, she wanted to take Chris to school and look after him and cook with him and settle him. And she wanted to take Lilah out on walks to the park and actually feed and change her and cuddle with her and be a proper mum to both kids, rather than feeling like another child that needed tending to.

"Being unwell doesn't make you any less of a mum. You won't feel like this for long, I'll make sure of it."

(Y/n) felt a bit more free and able to move when she lifted her head from Eddie's chest so she could lean her cheek on his shoulder instead. She looked up at him with those doe eyes that always melted his heart and when he reached out to brush a stray tear from her cheek, (Y/n) leaned into the touch.

"I'm gonna take care of you."

His words were enough to calm down the raging storm inside (Y/n)'s mind and for a few moments, she forgot about the headache storming behind her eyes.

Her hand clutched at his wrist, keeping his hand where it was, cradling the side of her face. And she pushed up enough to capture Eddie's lips in a kiss. He was going to look after her, and that was all (Y/n) needed to hear.

#imagine #911 imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie x reader #eddie diaz family #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz #evan buckley

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ak319 · 2 days ago

Note

I absolutely love your yandere Arthur stuff- though I really have the curiosity to see him suffer. I was wondering how he'd go about if the reader, in a desperate attempt to escape, ended up getting really really hurt (if she survived or not, up to you.. but make it real heart shattering please)

Thank you and keep being awesome!!

(AN: So, I got two asks (TW) relating to suicide and the other two I added cuz I thought they lined perfectly with the plot that came to my mind. So saddle up as this is going to be a tough one, do read the warnings, and also thank you to all the anons for reading and sending the asks!)

Warnings/MDNI: Suicide, angst, forced prostitution, the reader is underage. (15-16), not incest, strictly platonic, abuse// I don't condone such behaviour

It had been almost a week since you’d run, from everything that had suffocated you. An older woman in her 50s, a widow with two married daughters, had found you and decided to give you shelter. You couldn’t have been more grateful to Linda, and you even felt for her, living alone in a small house with only her animals for company. What you hadn’t expected, perhaps in your own naivety and desperation, was that choices made in haste often became someone else’s chance to shape their own life for the better.

You were dusting off a vase when you noticed two men approaching the fence on horseback. Anxiety bubbled in your stomach. Even the faint sound of hooves and the sight of those hats stirred reminders of your brother, of the camp, memories Linda knew well by now.

“Linda, there are people outside,” you said, voice tight with unease. She looked up from her book, her expression unreadable as she rose. With an air of certainty, as if she’d anticipated this, she opened the door without even glancing to see who they were.

“Good mornin’, Miss Linda.”

The men stepped inside, their eyes sweeping over the small room before landing on you, a young girl, untouched as they were told, standing tensely in the corner, cloth in hand.

“Is she the one?”

“Yes. Her name’s (Y/N),” Linda replied without hesitation, her tone strangely casual.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Um, Miss Linda?” you murmured, hoping for some explanation. But when you looked at her, the warmth she’d shown when she’d found you, empty-handed and alone, was nowhere to be found.

As their conversation continued, realization dawned painfully fast. This wasn’t an innocent meeting. She had sold you, to men who clearly had no good intentions.

“NO!” you shouted, thrashing as one of them seized you, his grip iron-tight. Panic surged through you as you struggled, tears stinging your eyes.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? LINDA!” you screamed, your voice cracking. “You have daughters of your own!” But the other man quickly moved to hold you down, binding your wrists as dread washed over you. No, this can’t be real, you thought, desperately praying for a miracle, for anything.

“I don’t have daughters,” Linda replied flatly, her gaze fixed on the money roll they handed her. “I live alone. You fell right into my trap, girly, this is what I do for a living.” She didn’t even look up as they gagged you, ignoring your cries and pleas as they dragged you from her house, indifferent to your terror.

⋆⋆⋆

It had been three months since they’d dragged you into this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers with cold eyes and colder hearts.It was useless no matter how much you begged or how hard you fought. The punishments, the beatings, the days locked away in dank cellars, became too much to bear.

"It's always a fun challenge to tame young ones like you,"

Eventually, the fight drained out of you. Bit by bit, you surrendered. You gave up on freedom, on dignity, on every cherished memory. You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t giving up, that they had taken it from you. But deep down, you knew the people around you would laugh at that. A woman, giving in? As if you’d ever had a choice.

Even if... even if your brother somehow found you, what would he say? If he saw you here, saw all that had happened, would he forgive you for running away? He will, he will because you're the only one he has left. It was a lie you whispered to yourself just to make it through the endless nights.

But still, despite everything, you prayed. Prayed that somehow he’d find you, that he’d come and take you back. That he’d see past the shame, past the bruises and broken pieces, and remember the sister you used to be. You clung to that thin thread of hope, fragile as it was, because it was the only thing left that still felt like yours.

⋆⋆⋆

Arthur hadn’t had a moment’s peace since you disappeared. The guilt and fury festered into a dark cloud over him, filling every waking moment. Every step, every job he took on, only seemed to twist the knife deeper, because how could he even think about anything else while you were out there alone?

He lashed out at everyone. Every misstep or delay was another reminder that they’d failed to keep you safe, to keep you close. It stung him that no one had been there, that Dutch’s assurances and promises meant so little when it came down to it. The camp members bore the brunt of his fury, his paranoia that they might’ve even helped you leave simmering just beneath the surface. And though they knew better than to push back, they held their patience, trying to calm him, even if it was like talking to a wall. How could these people not take care of you? It was the only thing he had asked Dutch for in exchange for giving his all, his best with his every breath.

Still, he couldn’t rest. Every day he pushed himself, scanning faces in crowded towns, following trails that led nowhere. He’d never admit it, but he was scared, scared of what might’ve happened to you. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw you for himself, safe and within the bounds of camp again.

⋆⋆⋆

It was one of those days where Chief, the man who forced you to call him that, as if it somehow dignified his cruelty, had you paraded through saloons to attract new customers. The older, more experienced girls absorbed most of the men’s attention, giving you brief respites where you could linger near the corners, gaze averted, trying not to see or be seen. This was your coping mechanism: be present but remain hidden, fading into the shadows, preserving the last shreds of yourself.

Chief rarely paid attention to your position; he was usually too engrossed in gambling or drinking with his cronies to notice. So long as you didn’t step out of line or attempt an escape, an impossible feat with his guards stationed outside, he didn’t care where you lingered. For these few stolen moments, you could almost feel invisible, protected by the wall at your back and the murmur of unfamiliar voices.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

Charles. Right there, across the room. Your heart thundered, your breath catching in your throat. He was here, and the realization struck you like a blow. You must’ve stared too long because his eyes landed on you, recognition dawning in his gaze. You could see his shock twist into something harder, his face darkening as he took in your presence here.

His eyes were locked onto you, and he rose from his seat, his gaze sharp and unyielding, scanning every inch of you with a dawning recognition. Each step he took made your heart pound harder, a mix of disbelief and terror twisting in your chest. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe, as you pressed yourself further against the wall, as though it might somehow swallow you up.

“(Y/N)...?”

His voice was low, laced with disbelief and something that almost sounded like relief, but there was no mistaking the tremor in it. Your throat tightened, and a thousand unspoken words tangled there, as if your body itself was rejecting the reality of being found.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your tongue felt heavy, paralyzed by shame and fear. The silence was broken by Chief, who was now at your side oblivious to the storm brewing, chuckled and tightened his hand on your shoulder. "This is Cherry, my newest one. One of the youngest, too," he taunted, a sick grin spreading across his face. "Would you like a taste, sir?"

Charles didn’t hesitate. In an instant, he was on Chief, his fists swinging. You watched as Charles’s rage took over, each blow landing harder than the last, rendering Chief into a bloody, unrecognizable heap. The noise and chaos around you faded, replaced by a surreal, dreamlike silence.

You wanted to move, to say something, anything, but shock held you frozen. The reality was hitting you all at once, Charles had found you. After all this time, your prayers have finally been answered. But along with the relief, dread crept in. Charles was here, yes, but what about Arthur?

Arthur. The thought of facing him filled you with a hollow, bone-deep fear. What would he say? What would he do when he saw you like this?

“Arthur’s been looking for you. Day and night, he’s been looking. And he’s… well, you know how he is.” He paused, his gaze turning serious. “But he needs to see you. Needs to know you’re safe.”

"I--can't....Charles," he was the second after Arthur whom you called a brother, if this was your condition in front of him, you dreaded facing your real one.

"He...will --no, please." No, this wasn't how it was supposed to be, you should have been happy to go.

"The hell I am leaving you here!"

"Charles, no, you don’t understand!" you protested, your voice trembling as you recoiled slightly from his touch. “Arthur… he’ll be furious! He’ll-”

“He’ll be furious if he finds out you’re here, too,” Charles interjected, his tone sharp yet laced with concern. “But I can’t leave you here. You deserve better than this.”

You nodded slowly, still numb, letting him lead you outside, where the guards who usually kept watch were already scattered, backing off after seeing Charles’s wrath. He didn’t let you go, staying close as he guided you through the quiet streets.

With a final glance back at the saloon, you took his hand, feeling a mix of fear and gratitude surge through you. As you climbed onto the horse behind him, the reality of what lay ahead crashed over you like a wave.

⋆⋆⋆

All the guilt and frustration that Arthur had felt at himself and the others had now morphed into a seething fury. He could barely contain the storm brewing inside him as he stood there, fists clenched, watching Charles bring you back to camp. You stood behind him, your head bowed, and he could feel the weight of your shame even from a distance.

When Charles, with his broken and hesitant words, explained where you had been and what you had endured , Arthur felt a rush of bile rise in his throat. Hearing that you had been forced into such a degrading life, turning into a whore, no less in front of the whole camp, set off a wildfire of rage within him. It felt as if every cell in his body was screaming, torn between the desire to protect you and the urge to just shoot you and then himself.

“Why…?” he managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity of his gaze was like fire. You could only let out a whimper, too overwhelmed by shame and fear to answer.

“Arthur... it's not (Y/N)'s fault-” Charles began, trying to explain the circumstances, but Arthur cut him off sharply, the anger bubbling over.

“I AM ASKING HER, CHARLES, SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I ASKED YOU SOMETHING!” His voice thundered across the camp, startling the others who had gathered to witness the confrontation.

Silence fell over the clearing, all eyes on you as Arthur took a step forward, his expression a mix of pain and fury. You flinched, feeling the heat of his anger radiating off him like a tangible force.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a rabbit caught in the glare of a predator. You could see the way his fists trembled, the way his jaw clenched, and it terrified you. “I---I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, "I am s-sorry...please."

Annabelle, having enough interjected. "Let the child breathe Arthur! You are scaring her for no fucking reason! You should be happy she's been found you dumbass!"

“Stay out of this, Annabelle!” Arthur snapped, the violence in his tone making everyone around him tense. “You don’t know what she’s done. You don’t know how she’s made me suffer!”

Hosea, who had been observing quietly, spoke up as well, attempting to de-escalate the situation. “Arthur, we need to think this through. She’s back now, that’s what matters-”

But before Hosea could finish, Dutch stepped in, his voice commanding. “Enough! This isn’t helping anyone. Arthur, take a breath. We’ll sort this out, but you need to calm down.”

Arthur’s fury seemed to intensify, the frustration boiling over. “Calm down!?” he spat, eyes dark with rage. “She thinks she can run away from me, become a whore and come back like nothing happened? I’m not letting her off that easy!”

With a sudden, swift movement, he seized your arm, dragging you towards a nearby tent. You stumbled, panic rising within you as you felt the grip of his hand, the anger radiating off him like heat from a fire.

“Arthur, please!” you cried, but he didn’t respond, his jaw set in a hard line as he pulled you along, ignoring the protests from Annabelle and Hosea.

"If anyone comes near me, I am gonna gut em' alive!"

“Arthur, think about what you’re doing!” Annabelle called after you, her voice strained with concern. “You can’t just take her away like this-” Dutch silenced her with holding her shoulders. "Don't you dare go near him! He's not in his senses-"

"SO GO AND STOP HIM!"

But he was already inside the tent, and the flap fell shut behind you with a heavy finality. The moment you were alone, he released you, stepping back with a mixture of anger and desperation. “Why would you do this to me? To us?” he demanded, his voice low and intense.

You backed away and fell onto the cot. "Just...just listen and I'll explain-

"Oh really? Did you enjoy your adventures? See, I was right. This is what they fuckin' taught you , what that bitch Anne, taught you. That fuckin' school!" He grabbed you by your jaw to make you face him. That's when you saw the tint of hurt in his eyes.

“You think this is a joke? I’m a joke? You fuckin’ ran our family’s name, my name, into the mud. I can’t even--” He threw you back onto the bed, the impact rattling through your bones. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Arthur, I’m still me,” you whispered, through sobs. “I’m still.... your sister."

"IF YOU WERE YOU WOULD HAVE LISTENED TO ME AND STAYED HERE!"

He was right, you should have listened and stayed here, chasing your dreams only led you to more nightmares and even now, it seems there are more to face.

You could barely catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you scrambled to find words that might bridge the chasm between you. Taking a shaky breath, you wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"You should be lucky I haven't shot you yet. If I was the one who found you, God knows what I would have done. Stay in this fucking tent until I say so, and don’t show me your face." His voice was low and dangerous, a growl that reverberated through the air like a thunderclap.

You flinched at his words, the truth of them hitting you like a slap. You had been trying to convince yourself that you were still worthy, still, the same person who had left the camp. But standing in front of him, the reality crashed down. You were not that person anymore, and you didn’t know how to return to her.

⋆⋆⋆

Annabelle and the others came to check on you, their voices a distant murmur as if they were speaking through water. You barely registered their presence, lost in a maze of your thoughts, every path leading back to Arthur’s harsh words. What had you expected from him? A comforting embrace? A gentle reminder that you were still his sister, despite everything?

You couldn't help but wonder if you were truly as heinous as he implied. Were you still his blood even? The questions tormented you, each one sharper than the last. You knew the truth of his overprotectiveness, it stemmed from love, from a desire to shield you from the dangers of the world. Yet here you were, the very thing he had feared, tainted by your stubborn quest for freedom and adventure.

Pushing the flap of his tent aside just enough to peek in, you caught sight of him, his back turned to you, oblivious to your presence. Just like he turned his back today on you. Funny.

With a deep breath, you stepped inside and placed the note in his satchel, the fabric brushing against your fingertips feeling heavier than it should.

You took one last glance at your brother, the weight of your choices pressing down on your heart, then slipped out of the tent, moving stealthily toward the supply wagon

When you retrieved what you needed, you returned to the privacy of your tent, the familiar space feeling more suffocating than ever. You sank onto the cot, the cold metal of the weapon glimmering in the bits of moonlight that managed to seep through the fabric.

Taking your time, you pondered everything that had brought you to this moment. You searched desperately for a glimmer of hope, but all you found were dead ends. Before returning with Charles, you had imagined a future where your brother might forgive you, where he could overlook the darkness of the past and allow you both to move on, forgetting the pain that had laced your life. You were even ready to let go of the past, but that hope had shattered just as quickly as it had formed.

With a final breath, you cocked the revolver, the click echoing in the silence of the night. The weight of it pressed against your skin as you brought it to the side of your forehead. At that moment, the tumult of emotions surged, fear, regret, and an aching desire for peace, threatening to consume you whole, and it did.

⋆⋆⋆

3 hours.

It had been three hours and the camp was thick with an oppressive silence that weighed heavily on everyone. The men came and went into the tent, each trying to mask their sorrow with bravado, yet their eyes betrayed them, glassy, haunted. Annabelle’s wailing filled the air outside, her cries echoing like a banshee’s lament, punctuated by shouts of blame that pierced the quiet. Yet through it all, Arthur couldn’t hear anything; he couldn’t see anything except your limp form cradled in his arms, and the world faded to grey around him.

He was convinced it was just a nightmare, an illusion crafted by his mind to torment him.

“Arthur...” Charles’s voice broke through the haze as he placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders, his grip steady yet heavy with gravity.

“We...gotta bury her. Please.” The weight of those words hung heavy in the air, an inevitability that Arthur couldn’t bear to face.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head vehemently as if denying the truth would somehow alter the reality before him. “Only dead people are buried. She’s...she's just sleeping.” The fervour in his voice rose, desperation threading through his tone. “Mum had to always snatch the covers from her because she refused to wake up...she'll wake up soon...I know."

His memory of those mornings washed over him, a bittersweet recollection that clashed violently with the present. The warmth of your laughter, the way you would bury your head deeper into your blankets, evading the morning sun, flared in his mind. Arthur’s grip tightened around you, as if holding you closer could somehow anchor him in this cruel moment, could make you open your eyes.

“Arthur, please.” Charles’s voice trembled with a mixture of compassion and urgency. “We have to let her go. We can’t keep holding on.

“No, I said fucking no. Don't you come near, fuck off!" Arthur growled, the denial thick in his throat.

But all Arthur could think was how cruel it felt, how unbearable it was to even entertain the idea of accepting it. You were his baby sister, his blood, the only family he had left, the one he had been given responsibility by his mother, and the thought of your absence left a hollow pit in his stomach, a void that threatened to swallow him whole. He pressed his face against your hair, clutching you close to his chest, inhaling the scent of you, soft, sweet, and achingly familiar. He murmured incoherently, swaying back and forth like a child himself.

“No,” he repeated choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I won’t lose her, not like this. Not ever. GO AWAY!”

It had taken every man in the camp to separate Arthur from cradling your body. His grip was ironclad, his anguish palpable as he held you against him, as if the sheer force of his will could resurrect you from the depths of despair. They had to pry his fingers from your lifeless form, his cries piercing the stillness of the evening like a gunshot.

As they prepared the grave, the earth was turned and the makeshift coffin formed from an old wooden crate. Each shovel of dirt that fell felt like another piece of Arthur’s soul being buried alongside you. The men worked in silence, their hearts heavy with grief, knowing they could do nothing to ease the torment radiating from him. Charles stood to the side, his own heart breaking.

Even Hosea wasn't able to comfort anyone at this moment. He couldn't fathom that a girl like you, who had so much to live for, for whom he silently had promised to be a guardian of at this camp, was gone. Just like that. He will never forget how you cared for him as a daughter would for her father. Making sure he ate his meals, assisting him with chores and sipping morning (coffee/tea) with him as he read the local news alongside you.

Finally, the moment came. Arthur stumbled forward, the weight of your absence pulling him down as he lowered you into the ground. The first clod of dirt landed with a finality that echoed in the silence of the camp. Tears streamed down his cheek, cutting a path through the grime and dust of the world around him. It felt like a betrayal like they were burying not just you but every memory, every dream he had cherished.

The men finished covering you and when it was done, they stepped back, leaving Arthur alone with his sorrow. He sank to his knees, a hollow shell, fingers digging into the earth as he pressed his forehead against the freshly turned soil. It was all he had left of you.

Dutch approached cautiously, his heart heavy as he watched Arthur, the man he had come to rely on, the strongest in his camp, unravelling before him. “Arthur, my son.." he said softly, “we need to get back to camp. You can’t stay here like this.”

Arthur didn’t budge, his body rigid, his eyes fixed on the grave. “I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, voice low and filled with pain.

“Please,” Dutch urged softly, “it’s time to go. You can honor her memory at camp. We’ll make sure she’s remembered.”

But Arthur only tightened his grip on the soil. “I don’t care. I’m staying here. I won’t leave her. I can’t…she's alone here.” The darkness of the night and you being alone made his body tremble. With that, he lowered his forehead to the cool earth, the pain a constant pulse in his heart, echoing with every breath he took. At that moment, he felt as though he had buried a part of himself alongside you.

"Just...be sure to come back, son."

With a heavy heart, Dutch turned away, leaving Arthur to mourn. And as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Arthur remained there, kneeling by the grave. For God knows how long.

That was the last time since Dutch saw him. Arthur went away from the camp, at least for the whole 4 months. Wandering and coping. Even after he came back, nothing was the same anymore. Pearson's stew tasted worse than ever, its blandness a stark reminder of the joy you used to bring to their meals.

Annabelle had left shortly after your passing, her heart broken beyond repair. She broke things off with Dutch, her fury spilling over. Blaming him, blaming Arthur. This time, Arthur didn’t disagree with her. There were moments when he caught glimpses of hate and blame in Hosea’s eyes too due to that night, moments that cut deeper than any bullet.

That night he had shrouded his fear with his rage because he didn't have the heart to hear any further, anything of what you had endured because he knew he couldn't bear it. Due to this utter selfishness of his, he forgot about your pain, denied to offer his shoulder to you.

Hey Arthur,

I know I’m leaving, and I wish I could tell you that everything will be okay, but I need you to understand something important, none of this is your fault. Please don’t let yourself carry that burden. You’ve always tried to protect me, and it breaks my heart to think that you might blame yourself for my choices. I don’t want you to live with regret, feeling like you didn’t fulfil some promise to Mum. That’s not what she would have wanted for either of us. Neither Dad.

As I write this, I want you to remember the better, more joyful moments we shared when we were young. The laughter that rang through our home, the endless promises of going on adventures we dreamed of as we rode in town with Dad.

You always looked out for me, and always kept me safe, and I will forever be grateful for your protection. You did more than any brother could. But you must know that the path I chose was mine alone. I was foolish to step outside when you even said not to and I got lost along the way. It’s not a reflection of you or your love for me. I don’t want you to carry the weight of my choices as if they were yours to bear.

I want you to live your life without the chains of guilt holding you down. Don’t let this tragedy rob you of your future. Pursue your dreams, even in this hard life of an outlaw and embrace the adventure that awaits you because I have seen how much you enjoy doing what you do even if I was not in favour of it. Find joy in the little things, just as we did when we were young and remember that we are forever connected by the love we share as siblings.

If you find it within you, forgive yourself. I hope that one day, you can look back on our memories with a smile instead of sorrow. I’ll always be a part of you, a part that encourages you to keep going, to live fiercely and fully.

Take care of yourself, okay?

With love,

(Y/N)

Arthur’s fingers lingered over the page of the letter, the ink slightly smudged from his own tears. Each word felt like a dagger in his chest, a reminder of the weight he carried, the weight of his past actions, of his failures as your guardian. He carefully placed the letter beside the photo of you both, sitting together, a snapshot of somewhat happier times, a month after he and you arrived in camp. The Morgans, written at the bottom, as Dutch had called you both. Your eyes were not smiling, they were empty of the mischief and the liveliness which you always held. It clearly showed how unhappy you were being separated from the home you held dear to your heart. He dragged you into this life when you barely had the chance to enjoy your childhood. And he failed to see this at the time, blinded by only his promise to keep you at his side.

I’m still.... your sister.

That plea of yours haunts him to this very day. With a heavy heart, Arthur rose from where he sat, the sun casting long shadows over the camp. He made his way to your grave, each step a reminder of the distance between them now, a chasm he had never imagined would grow so vast.

He knelt down, pulling a few wildflowers from the ground nearby, bright yellow blooms that reminded him of your bubbly laughter. They were vibrant, like the memories he held close to his heart. As he laid them gently atop the grave, a swell of guilt washed over him, choking him with the realization that you had taken the blame upon yourself.

You had written about not wanting him to live with regret, but how could he not? The dark and violent tendencies that had seeped into his life had cast a shadow over everything, over the once innocent and wholesome relationship, filled with just laughter, jokes, care and bickering, and now they had taken you away from him. Arthur thought of the times he had let his anger consume him, the threats he’d made in fits of rage, the moments he failed to protect you in the way a brother should.

"This is on me," he murmured, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "You didn’t deserve this... none of it."

He brushed his fingers over the grave, feeling the cool earth beneath, as if trying to connect with you one last time. He wished he could tell you that he’d change, that he’d find a way to channel his fury into something constructive rather than destructive. But the truth was, that change seemed too far away, and the regret felt too real.

The flowers seemed to wilt under the weight of his sorrow, and he fought the urge to crumble right there beside you like he did every day when he visited you. Maybe, just maybe a simple word of sympathy from him that night could have prevented this, "I’m so sorry, (Y/N)," he choked out, his heart heavy with guilt. "I’m so damn sorry, m-my little Chumchum."

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the camp, but for Arthur. He stayed there, kneeling at your grave, wishing he could turn back time, wishing he could have been the brother you needed, wishing he could have saved you from the darkness that ultimately claimed your light. Even after killing and gutting alive the ones involved, from Linda to those men, nothing could calm his heart.

It might take a lifetime to heal from your death, but it would take a thousand more to forgive himself.

(AN: Did you cry? I sure did. PS. This was the first time I wrote on this topic so just wanted to say that if you know someone who is going thru smth or even if not, just be kind to others around you and value each other's presence. And if you are goin thru smth be sure to know that this life is a gift and also a test and there is always someone out there who is waiting for you and loves you with all their might, every cell in ur body works for YOU. Thanks for reading, stay hydrated and peace ‎♡‧₊˚)

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historical-fashion-polls · 2 days ago

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hello my loves! 💕

I just wanted to pop in and say an absolutely enormous thank you thank you thank you to everyone for your super sweet responses and messages on this ask/answer!! 🥰🥰 I may not be able to respond to everyone, but please know that I read all your incredibly kind notes and they absolutely did turn my day around! ☺️☺️ I appreciate you all so very much! 💕💕 while I started this blog mostly on a whim because I like historical fashion and having opinions on said historical fashion, one of the biggest reasons that I have continued it is because of all the wonderful and kind people who have found their way here and continue to brighten my days and make running the blog so fun! 🥰🥰 so, truly, thank you!! ☺️☺️

I also wanted to say to that anon, if you're still here, and if you feel I've misinterpreted your original message, please do feel free to send in another ask! 💖💖 I should have said this in my original response, but I fear I felt a bit hurt and didn't think to offer (though I should have, and I apologize for not doing so originally) that if you wished to convey something that I didn't pick up on, you're very welcome to clarify your meaning! 💕💕 I try to be very open to having dialogue, but I'm afraid the tone of the ask made me feel a bit defensive. but I did want to open that up to you if you were interested in having further conversation on the topic 💖💖

lastly, I'm reading all your responses to this poll on future tournaments, and I'm definitely considering some possible options while still trying to be aware of my own limits! I will have more coherent plans on this to come! ☺️☺️

okay that's all! I love you all and I'm so immensely grateful for this lovely community! 🥰🥰

with much gratitude,

the curator 🪶

#the curator speaks #the curator also cries (happy tears) bc you're all so sweet 🥹🥹

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nanamimizz · 2 days ago

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𝐖𝚬𝐋𝐂𝚶𝐌𝚬 𝐓𝚶 𝐋𝐀𝐌𝚩’𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐌 𝐅𝚬𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋…

𝐓𝚶 𝐂𝚬𝐋𝚬𝚩𝐑𝐀𝐓𝚬 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝚬𝐒𝐓𝚶𝐍𝚬 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝚩𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 !

author’s note: thank you all for another year on tumblr ! i always will appreciate all the people who read my silly little stories and indulge my imagination <3 it means the world to me ! please enjoy and have fun with this little event !

THIS EVENT ENDS ON NOV. 6TH, MY BIRTHDAY.

There are three tiers to pick from - one person can only submit one choice. They are as follows:

GENERAL ADMISSION - send an ask with the phrase “GENERAL ADMISSION” in the beginning and include a description with the dynamic of you and your f/o as long what type of genre of movie you think the two of you would be in and i will curate a 9 image moodboard for you !

example - anon: “GENERAL ADMISSION: bnha dabi and i have an enemies to lovers dynamic and the genre of movie we would be in is horror” (send in as much detail as possible!)

VIP ADMISSION - send an ask with the phrase “VIP ADMISSION” in the beginning and include a description of you and your f/o’s dynamic and i will curate a 6 song playlist of songs that i think would be included on the movie you would star in paired with a 3 image moodboard !

example - anon: “VIP ADMISSION: bllk isagi and i have a friends to strangers to lovers dynamic where yearning and melancholy are prominent themes in the romance.” (send in as much detail as possible!)

GOLDEN TICKET - THIS IS A MUTUAL’s ONLY TIER. as a special thank you to my mutuals i have devised a unique tier for you all ! in this send an ask with the phrase “GOLDEN TICKET” in the beginning along with which ever selfship you want. i am familiar with most so sending in a description of your dynamic isn’t necessary but feel free to do so ! this tier will give you a 6 SONG PLAYLIST, a 9 IMAGE MOODBOARD, PLOT DESCRIPTION and a brief drabble.

@yinyuedijun @petrichorium @suguwu @osamew @isatoru @saintajax @saintshigaraki @prettyboykatsuki @wri0thesley @rabbbitseason @lovemikage @allright @dilucs @threadbaresweater @chigirisprincess @fyodior @yuutito @ghostbeam - (i will tag more people in the upcoming days !

#lamb’s film festivial.#rbs are appreciated!

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take-it-on-the-run · 1 day ago

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Rosyln

Dean Winchester x FreshlyTurned!Reader

It was supposed to be a simple hunt. Something to get the three of you back on your feet after a year of thinking Sam was dead and no contact between you and Dean.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: Vampirism, the reader is turned, angst, hurt/comfort, soulless Sam is slacking, blood, vivid descriptions of smell and pain, vomiting, illness comfort, Samuel Campbell (yes he is a warning he sucks), brief mention of the reader killing Dean

Characters: Dean Winchester, Soulless!Sam Winchester, FreshlyTurned!Reader, Samuel Campbell

Anonymous requested: "hi <3 wasn’t sure if I could request this or not, feel free to ignore if you don’t feel comfortable doing it, but can I request a hurt/comfort fic with dean :) like patching up an injury or smth, thank you !!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Bon Iver + St. Vincent title. Okay, I'm going to preface this by saying this went a little off the rails from what the request asked for, and I hope that this is still generally within the realm of hurt/comfort. Thank you for the request anon, and if you don't think I quite hit the mark, I'm sorry. Other than the haywire writing, this was a ton of fun to write, and made me brush up on my season six lore. Every mistake is my own, heed the tags, and enjoy!

Dean Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Blood ran down your chest and stomach, coupled with a hot, searing pain that pulsated from the side of your neck.

The barn you were in was slipping in and out of vision as you tried to focus on a small crack that ran through a few of the ceiling boards.

The reality of your life coming to an end in a barn on the outskirts of a small Midwest town crashed down on you.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt.

Something to get the three of you back on your feet after a year of thinking Sam was dead and no contact between you and Dean.

Rush the vamp nest, take them out, and torch the place for good measure.

It was a fairly simple plan, given the things you three had gone through over the past years. Ghosts, demons, and the damn devil himself. A plan that would’ve gone through perfectly if Sam followed through on his end.

You were supposed to go through one of the top windows, Dean through the front, and Sam the back.

You found two vamps up in the loft, swiftly cutting through the head of one before the other kicked you straight through the loft’s railing, landing on your back a floor below.

Before you could get to your feet, he was on top of you, yanking the machete in your hands and throwing it across the room. He brought his grotesque mouth to your neck, all sharp needles made of bone. The metallic smell of blood caked to the back of his teeth wafted over your senses.

You could feel the muscles in your neck drawing taught as his teeth attempted to rip out the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder. You tried pushing him off, but the harder you pushed, the more his jaw would close. The only thing stopping him from ripping your throat clean open was Dean running behind him and holding the vampire’s mouth open like a wild animal.

Through your drowning ears, you could hear Dean yelling for Sam to come kill the monster on top of you, but no such relief came.

You didn’t know where Sam was, but you knew Dean had a choice to make.

Either let the vampire’s jaw go, letting him yank your throat apart as he scrambled for a weapon to kill it, or continue yelling for his brother who was yet to be found.

Your eyes met his briefly through the struggle of his vice grip on your attacker. You could see confusion, followed by regret, flash in his eyes; like you were telling him it was one way or the other.

As strong as Dean was, you knew that he wasn’t strong enough to wait for Sam and still have the energy to hold the vampire on you.

He knew it, too.

You closed your eyes when you saw his hands starting to move away from the vampire’s jaw before they slipped off and he was out of your sight.

You didn’t blame him. It was a tough call to make, and if the roles were reversed, you were sure you’d make the same choice.

That’s the life, after all.

You were barely conscious enough to recognize Dean dragging you away to prop you up against a wall with a grunt. You heard the rotting door of the barn get kicked open, and you blinked your eyes open enough to see Sam finally make an appearance with the med kit that you stashed in the Impala.

“Where the hell were you,” Dean spit at his brother with venom. You heard Sam’s voice, but the words were garbled and you couldn’t put together what he was saying.

Your voice rattled a moan without your control, like a ghastly breath escaping your lungs in an attempt to cling to life. Their voices came to a hush as Dean returned to kneeling at your side.

“Hey, hey sweetheart,” his hand cupped the side of your face while the other remained pressed harshly on the gaping wound in your neck, “I need you to focus on me. Just keep your eyes on me, everything’s gonna be alright.”

You knew you were at the end of your blood tank; in reality, it was a miracle you were still awake at all.

Fuck.

You moved your jaw, Dean’s hand riding on the side of your neck in an attempt to keep the wound covered.

In no human realm should you be awake or alive in this moment.

But, as Sam shoved thick pads of gauze into Dean’s hands, you felt the world stop as a new smell cut through the one of your blood.

A deep, unsatiated hunger, as if you hadn’t eaten since the moment you were born, dawned on your tongue. It didn’t pile in your stomach like normal hunger; it coursed through your body, wracking you with the urge to find the source of the smell.

Dean.

The smell was coming from Dean.

You forced yourself away from him, kicking against the rickety floor of the barn as he looked at you in shock.

“What are you doing? You’re going to bleed out, please, I know it hurts, but…” his words died in his mouth as you slowly stood to your feet, feeling around the site of the wound. Your hand moved on your skin, slipping in your blood but not dipping against the gaping holes you knew should’ve been there.

“I need you two to back up away from me, please.” You stated as calmly as you could. Something was clicking in your jaw, and you guessed it was the new teeth forcing their way through your gums.

The two of the brothers stepped away, Sam a little faster than Dean, as you dug your nails into a wooden beam to stop your feet from moving.

You watched them from a distance, whispering to each other with occasional glances your way.

Dean took a step towards you, his hands in front of him cautiously as you firmly planted your feet to the ground.

“Sam says he and Samuel may know how to deal with this, he thinks they might have a cure. I’m going to grab the guy that turned you,” he turned to the body slowly, keeping eye contact with you, “and we’ll need you to come with us. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You craned your neck to look around before your eyes were burned with the light creaking through the walls. It burned like the sun had come down to Earth and set it on fire, swirling up to your brain and distorting your thoughts.

“Dean,” you heaved out, planting your hands firmly over your eyes, “I don’t think-” your brain felt too light to form more words. Everything was too bright, too fast, too much.

Your body buckled at your hips as you heard one of the pair approach you. Hands lightly pressed at the backs of your legs, and you were swept off your feet.

When you woke up, you were sat upright in a chair, alone in one of the many rooms of the Campbell’s compound. You recognized it as one of the rooms dedicated to the many monsters the Campbell family took in; the barred door locked from the outside.

You gasped, holding back a gag as you tasted your rancid breath.

“Y/N?” You heard someone call out your name from down the hall, and you scrambled to the bars, wrapping your hands around them.

“Dean?” You called out with a weak voice. The owner of the voice turned down the hallway, revealing Dean’s broad figure walking swiftly to you.

He knelt in front of the bars, gaze sweeping over you, taking in your ragged appearance.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and steady. “How are you feeling?”

You laughed bitterly. “Like something chewed me up and spit me out.” The words felt strange coming out of your mouth, as if each syllable scraped against your throat, raw and foreign. You tightened your grip on the bars, the metal cold against your clammy skin.

Dean nodded slowly, glancing down the hallway where Sam and Samuel’s muffled voices were discussing… something. Something about a cure. A way out of this. But you could tell by Dean’s face that the chances weren’t great.

“Listen, they’re working on it,” he said. “Sam and Samuel think they might be able to stop this, to reverse it somehow. You just have to hang in there.”

You met his gaze, searching his eyes for any sign of certainty, anything that might give you hope. “And if they can’t?” Your voice was softer than you’d meant, but you had to ask. The hunger clawing at your insides was getting stronger, more insistent, and it terrified you more than anything else.

He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against the bars. “Then we deal with it.”

You felt a shudder run through you, half from fear and half from the hunger that twisted your insides at the scent of his blood. “Dean… you don’t get it.” You tried to explain the gnawing feeling, how you could practically taste his blood just by being this close. “I’m not safe, not like this.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll find a way to make you safe. Whatever it takes.”

Just then, Sam and Samuel came down the hall, carrying an ancient-looking book and a glass filled with a thick red liquid. You guessed it had blood in it, by the smell, but various other scents in the drink made you want to double over. Dean turned, his face hardening as he looked at them.

Sam cleared his throat, glancing at you behind the bars. “We… we think this might work. The cure’s based on a blood transfusion from the vampire that turned you, mixed with some ingredients Samuel and the family found.” He met your eyes, his expression somber, with a blankness in his eyes. “It’s gonna hurt. A lot. But if you can make it through… there’s a good chance we can turn you back.”

With a nod, you stepped away from the door, allowing Samuel to unlock it with a key he pulled from his pocket. Dean stared at you intensely as Sam crossed the threshold into the cell. He handed you the cup and quickly stepped back out of the room.

Before either Sam had a chance to close the door again, Dean stepped in.

“What are you doing?” Samuel asked, creaking open the door so Dean would have the chance to leave.

“If this has the chance to kill her, I think we owe her enough to not let her die alone in a cell like some damn dog,” Dean said harshly.

Sam looked as if he was going to say something, but Samuel silently closed the door and locked it.

“Dean,” you groaned out, the ache of your new sharp teeth erupting past your gums making it hard to speak, “you shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know you, and I know that out of all of us, you’d be the one with the most control to not eat me alive.” He said wryly, sitting against the wall opposite of you as you leaned against it.

You smiled despite the pain radiating throughout your body. The drink in your hand smelled like blood mixed with something bitter that sat in the back of your throat. You looked a Dean for a moment, before raising the cup a little in a ‘cheers’ motion and starting to slam the liquid down.

It burned like the first time you drank booze, but there was no warm and fuzzy feeling when you finished. You coughed roughly, dropping the cup and leaning over to sputter your inside up. Dean moved to you within a second, hand holding your hair out of the way as you finally opened your eyes to see what was escaping you.

Blood.

Blood shot from your lips over and over, the only relief found in the form of Dean’s hand gently rubbing your back as your body purged the vampirism straight from you.

You didn’t know how long you spent ridding the disease from your body, but it was long enough to create a puddle of blood that soaked into the jeans you were wearing. You brought your nose away from the smell, not realizing that the hunger in you had finally stilled. Every inch of your body was stretched and burning, but the smell that Dean carried with him was finally gone.

He leaned back against the wall again, bringing you against his chest as he whispered near-silent words of encouragement and comfort. The two of you sat in that cell for what seemed like an eternity, not bothering to call out for anyone to let the two of you out.

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eepwriting · 1 day ago

Note

Feeling like loving on our favorite drummer. Maybe something about tattoos? Getting matching ink with reader? Or talking reader through first tattoo? :) (your fics are so wonderful btw)

Tattoos With II Headcanons

Warnings: none

This is so cute omg AND ii is getting some more love on here!! And thank you so much anon for the sweet compliment and for sending a request in! 🤍

✧༝┉˚ MASTERLIST ˚┉༝✧

✦ taglist: @ghostlygothicgay @skellyflowers @mathfairchild1 @evisnotok @jeriiicho @adenobabe @trying-not-horny-on-main @rain-down-on-me

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

Matching Tattoos

✶ Is ECSTATIC when you come to him with the idea.

✶ He’s on board right away.

✶ Will spend a lot of time thinking of the perfect design, obviously taking you into consideration as well.

✶ I can see him drawing 10+ designs on paper and getting your opinions on each one.

✶ If you have a solid, well built idea, really no matter what it is, he’ll get it. No questions asked.

✶ If it means getting a matching piece with you, it doesn’t matter to him.

✶ He makes sure to book the appointment with a solid and reputable artist.

✶ Day of, he’s bouncing off the walls with excitement.

✶ Basically makes a whole day out of it.

✶ Out to eat for breakfast/lunch, appointment, maybe a sweet treat after and something fun to end the day.

✶ Takes LOTS of pictures during and after the appointment of y’all’s new ink.

✶ Gives you a day by day update on healing even if it’s not that exciting.

✶ If people ask him about the tattoo, he always mentions that it’s a matching one with you.

✶ I think his heart would grow two sizes bigger every time he looked at it.

Excuse me while I cry at this thought.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡

Reader’s First Tattoo

✶ He’s the first person you ask when you’re finally ready to book an appointment.

✶ He’s very excited for you and gives you extremely detailed advice based on his past experiences.

✶ Asks to see the design you pick a thousand times.

✶ The least judgmental person, he loves the idea no matter what it is, because it’s one you picked.

✶ Is so happy when you ask him to go with you to the appointment.

✶ Makes sure you eat beforehand and drink plenty of fluids.

✶ Definitely packs sweets and juice for you just in case.

✶ We all know he’s covered so he feels very comfortable in the environment, which eases any nerves you may be feeling.

✶ Will absolutely hold your hand if you ask.

✶ Strikes up a conversation with your artist that involves the three of you so there’s no awkward lulls.

✶ Gives you encouraging smiles and hand squeezes if you need it.

✶ Takes lots of pictures of your new ink when it’s finished.

✶ Also gives you lots of compliments on how the new piece fits you perfectly.

✶ Gives his opinions on aftercare and makes sure you care for the new tattoo, while answering any questions you have.

✶ It’s not long before he’s subtly suggesting to get a matching one with you.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

Why do I genuinely want to cry thinking about this

K. Bye bye.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token fic #sleep token x reader #sleep token headcanons #sleep token ii #ii sleep token #sleep token ii x reader #ii x reader

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foodtruckery · 2 days ago

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Hi there! Im a bit new to ur blog but i just wanted to pop in to tell you how much i adore Combat Baby! Im actually super insane about it!! Idk why but the whole coat bits were just phenomenal and live in my brain forever now? Im already a sucker for older ford and mullet stan but oh boy now i cant stop picturing every version of stan stealing his brother's coat...for regular reasons and maybe also spicy reasons 👀 like a consensus i see is ford being a clothing sniffer but stan could also have a coat to sniff...as a treat...anyway sorry for rambling a bit here!! but please keep up the excellent work!

hello there, anon!! hey, if it makes you feel any better, i am also new to this blog so no worries there at all lol. ahh but thank you so much, it's so kind of you to come over here to say that!!

and okay hahaha let me ramble a little bit about the damn coat! cause i hadn't actually planned for like. ANY OF THAT to happen, so i am just thrilled to hear you enjoyed that random ass bit that ended up running away from me! cause like here's the thing. my main goal was just to get a few of ford's fucking layers off for the sake of the scene (fun fact: this whole scene originally started in a different room entirely and i said fuck that and moved them to the kitchen).

but then i figured the coat gave stan something to kinda consider while ford is faffing about, gave me a point to work on to keep driving at that "similar but different" narrative i was trying to lean into. but like....then the coat is there y'know?? i hadn't even included him asking for the thing in my first pass of that scene. but then it kinda felt like chekov's coat at that point and i couldn't not bring it back in.

but yes, i'm absolutely with you. i really do love the idea of stan like. taking comfort in being surrounded by something that smells like ford. especially if we're talking mullet stan and older ford here. and uhhhh. i had other like stuff i was gonna say, i think, but i kinda got carried away so.

hey! welcome to the blog! have a vaguely, hand wavey post-combat baby tidbit of stan jerking off in ford's coat:

This was stupid. Painfully, humiliatingly stupid. And if he got caught, Stan was pretty sure he'd just voluntarily disappear for another ten years rather than reckon with that particular flavor of mortification.

Fuck, what did it say about him that the thought of Ford walking in and catching him beating off in nothing but his brother's stupid coat just made his dick twitch harder in his palm?

Stan bit down on his lower lip and cast a furtive glance towards the door, but he didn't slow his fist any. He couldn't hear any movement outside the room, which suggested that Ford was still down in the basement or fucking around in the woods — he couldn't actually remember which one at the moment. He just knew that Ford had gone and occupied himself somewhere else and left his coat laying around, easy pickings. He hadn't even thought it through before he grabbed the thing and made himself scarce with it.

Vaguely, Stan reasoned that if Ford hadn't taken his coat, he probably wasn't wandering around outside in the fucking snow. But that meant he was probably somewhere inside still, and that really shouldn't make him as hot as it did.

“Fucking hell,” he panted, fumbling with his free hand to tug the collar of the coat up to his nose. He breathed in the familiar-but-not smell of Ford and the memory of making embarrassing noises into the same material while he was railed on the kitchen table.

Shuddering, Stan rolled his palm over the head of his dick and smeared precome down the shaft, muffling a moan in the jacket collar. It was heavy, a noticeable enough weight shifting against his bare skin that if he closed his eyes and tried hard enough, he could almost imagine Ford kneeling behind him, pressed against his back and draping his arms over his shoulders. It would put his mouth right against that spot behind Stan's ear that had never fully shaken the phantom feeling of Ford's lips moving there.

But what the fuck would he even say? Would he be pissed at Stan for taking his coat? Probably. Sneer that he shouldn't be surprised that a whore who can't keep his own clothes on would feel entitled to stealing his. He'd loom against his back and watch Stan fuck his own fist right up until he was twitching, nearly there, and then Ford would grab his wrist and tell him to stop because he didn't deserve to come.

Stan tucked his chin to press closer to the material he was holding to his face and rocked his hips, as much to follow the steady pumping of his fist as to feel the coat shift against his thighs and around where his knees were pressed to the floor. Because he hadn't even managed to make it to the fucking bed once he'd gotten into the room. He'd just stripped in a hurry, leaving his own clothes thrown haphazardly to the side, and yanked on Ford's stupid space coat.

If he were going for realistic, if Ford wandered upstairs and threw open the bedroom door and found Stan jerking off in the middle of the room, he probably wouldn't do anything at all. He'd get that brief, surprised little look on his face, eyebrows raising over the rim of his glasses and maybe, maybe part his lips just a little bit.

And then, while Stan was stammering and trying to come up with an excuse or an apology or literally anything worth saying to make this look less like what it was, Ford would reset his expression and cross his arms and say something short like, “Well? Get on with it, then.” He would stand in the doorway, maybe lean there a bit, comfortable as you please, and watch Stan frantically try to finish the job like he was simply overseeing one of his less interesting experiments.

Stan huffed against the coat and swallowed down a moan as he rubbed against the sensitive spot under the head of his dick. He was so close. And he needed to hurry the fuck up if he didn't actually want Ford to walk in on him. Cause that was all well and good while he was hot and shivering and chasing down an orgasm, but he would probably actually die if he got caught. Or maybe Ford would do him a favor and just kill him on the spot for it?

Nosing the fold of the coat collar, Stan heard a quiet click in the room before the heater kicked on, thrumming away to keep the stupid cabin at a reasonable temperature for the middle of winter. Because the heat had been turned off, like Ford had suspected, and they'd managed for a few days with Stan chopping wood and putting the shack's little fireplace to use. But that was a miserable chore, and eventually Stan figured, fuck it, and gave the gas company a call.

Turned out, telling the right sob story with an appropriately pathetic voice could get you an extension and get the heat back on until your genius brother figured out his nerd ass replacement for powering the shack. Stan didn't know what he meant by that, and he hadn't asked, because as long as they had some way of heating the place up, he was happy.

But he did distinctly remember telling Ford he had gotten the gas turned back on for another couple weeks. The way he made that brief, surprised face and then, for a moment, nothing else at all. Long enough that Stan had rolled his eyes and turned to head back out of the room, because really, what the hell had he expected here? But then Ford had finally cleared his throat and said, awkward, like he'd only just realized he should, “Thank you, Stanley. Good work.”

Stan shoved a mouthful of Ford's coat between his teeth and bucked jerkily when he came all over his fist, skin tingling and Ford's voice rolling around between his ears.

“J-Jesus Christ, Stanley,” he panted to himself once he'd stopped whining and could spit out the edge of the coat — didn't taste nearly as good as it smelled. And, he realized with a groan, he'd managed to get jizz all over the sleeve. Fantastic.

Once he caught his breath, he would get dressed, wipe the coat off as best he could, and put it back. Then he would pray to god that Ford didn't notice anything, wouldn’t see the splotchy attempts at cleaning it or smell Stan on it. And he would never touch the damn thing again. Really.

#yeah again i got nothing #i didn't mean to write this #BUT HERE WE ARE #stancest #nsft #pretend my ask tag is cute

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simp-ly-writes · 4 hours ago

Text

Love is Blind

─────── · · A Smosh FanFic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Smosh Games is making another title in the smash hit board game series, love is blind, but is it all fun and games- or will you actually end up winning something worth a lot more?

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, super tooth-rotting fluff, part social media au, suggestive themes, attempt at humour, a bit chaotic but the vibes are there.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,570

─ · · A/N: let us all thank the anon that sent this request it! 😊

─────── · ·

"Hello everyone and welcome to the Smosh Games channel today we will be finding out is definitively, is love truly blind? And as you can all see, I am joined here with (name), Amanda, Arasha, Olivia, Spencer, Chance, and Trevor for the first time in this shows history!" Angela introduces the viewer as you all way and cheer for Trevor who hides behind his wine glass with a playful smile.

"How are we all feeling today?" Angela asks the table and Amanda leads first. "Heyyyy, My names Amanda I'm 25 and my friends told me to come on this show. I ummmm, am from New York, yaaa! And I love to party, I work as a marketing assistant!"

"Hi, I'm Olivia, 44, I was told we win money on this show-?" Amanda leans over whispering a loud no, and you laugh as her shoulder drop. "Well, I was going to be on this show to win but now I'm just here for the drama and if I find love, great, whatever- I work as a scientist, can make more money."

"Hello, Name's Trevor and I work in digital media, I-uh am 20-something and love to cook!"

"Its Arasha and I am 20, this is being filmed and Europe so don't you dare take this glass away from me! I work in Digital media as well and if my first date is a walk on the beach, just know that there won't be a second date, m-kay?"

"Sup, I'm straight-Chance and you all have no-chance if I'm the other one in a love triangle. I am 22 and work as an actor, catch me in films you never knew about!"

"I'm Angela, 50, sales, have been divorced thrice and am looking for my fourth special-someone."

"Ummm, hi? I'm (name) i'm (age), and work also in Digital Media. I-uh love table-top games and yeah"

"Hi, I'm Spencer, 33, and also love table-top gaming..." You and Spencer both look at one another with a smile before looking towards Angela as she quickly goes over the rules and the game commences.

─────── · ·

Early on, you were not matching with anyone and that was making you nervous. Sure it was a silly game in all but you were competitive nonetheless and seeing as Olivia, Amanda, and Chance all had multiple connections while you had one and nearly a half, you knew that your odds didn't look great.

"Okay!" it was your turn to read out a question card. "For a date I would: A. Rather stay inside, B. Go out to Dinner. C. Go for a Walk-"

"Fuck the walk," Olivia slammed her card down before you could even show your decision, the cast erupted with laughter as you didn't bat an eyelash and turned over your card. "I said A. Stay Inside. I was thinking we could have a movie night at home or just order in. More intimate that way," you explain. Suddenly feeling the reality of the game come to life as you nervously waited on your peers answers.

"the results are in and only one A... hm" you commented, checking it off on your card with a small from. This unknown person was really running away with your scorecard, only one more point and you could propose- potentially winning the game. It was time to lock it in.

Round after round, question after question, you and this person were connecting effortlessly, it even had you questioning if you had both broken the game by how in-sync your answers were. So much so that the other members of cast started wiggling their eyebrows in your direction as your cheeks warmed.

"Okay guys! Its only just a game but a game I do intend to win!"

─────── · ·

So focused on creating a strategy to match your unknown match, you were none the wiser to Angela calling out your name multiple times.

"C'mon you are sounding like my ex-wives, never listening to me. Please stand up, I have something to say, no one else is playing the purple character" Angela yelled across the table, pointing in your face as you held your hands up and walked around to stand in front of the table.

"(name), even though we both have not known one another for long, I have fallen so in love with you. More in love than my other two, or was it three wives? and however many children I father... just know that I want to have you be mine. Please marry me?" Angelas voice cracks near the end, she conceals her laughter by biting her shoulder as you bring up your hands to your mouth to do the same.

Your eyes are clouding in tears before you burst out in laughter and say no, watching as she collapses to her side and bellows out dramatic cries before standing back up and asking Olivia to come over, they both end up getting engaged.

"I would actually like to call someone forward. If the blue character could greet me at the front, please." And to your shock (and internal horror yet delight), Spencer steps forwards, your eyes wide as saucers as he smiles at you. Forgetting what to do Spencer looks down, reminding you to propose much to everyones enjoyment and your embarrassment as Tommy shouts out from behind the camera, "Could love truly be blind???"

"Shut-up, please! Spencer, I-uh. Well we have connected a lot over this game, we see eye-to-eye and have formed a meaningful connection over these hours that have felt like years. I never knew someone could match my freak, so to speak and would you do me the honour of marrying me?" you take the ring out of your back pocket, presenting it to Spencer who appears to have the blush of his own.

You both stand their still in that moment, forgetting the cast, crew, and cameras, "yes, I do- I mean yes I will marry you." Standing up to place the ring on his finger, you both hug and hold each other for a moment too long for what should be a cut scene before taking to your seats.

In all honesty, you both forget that you are still holding each others hands after the cut-scene and it carries through to the end of the game.

─────── · ·

The drama continues yet for you and Spencer, it was smooth sailing as you both did not go out looking for a 'better connection' and end up making it to your wedding day. you keep having to remind yourself that this is a mere fantasy, a game but it feels too real as Spencer takes your hands in his own, smiling and whispering jokes for only you to hear as Tommy reads out your vows.

"And do you, Spencer, take (name) to be your lawfully wedded spouse? In sickness and in health? For richer or poorer? For both as long as you shall live always?"

"yes, I do," Spencer says, placing the ring on your finger, bringing it up to his face for a kiss as your face heats up more than it has all game. "And (name) do you take Spencer to be your lawfully wedded spouse? In sickness and in health? For richer or poorer? For both as long as you shall live always?"

"I do." And the cast and crew all stand and cheer as in that moment you both debate on kissing one another. "Are you playing?-"

"Never," Spencer eases your worries, "could I kiss you?" he asks in a soft tone, wanting to cherish the moment you both know to be real.

"Yes, please." And then his lips are on your own, the world silenced yet again, his had cupping your cheek as you lean into his touch.

─────── · ·

When the cameras cut, your lips still tingling and your face set with an unmoving smile that Spencer mirrors. You two are the only ones left on the set as Spencer leans against the table, "I know this seems a bit weird considering that we're married-" you laugh before asking him to continue with hopeful eyes as he reaches out to hold your hand, you accept, fingers intertwining.

"Would you want to go out sometime?"

"Yes, I would really like that."

─────── · ·

🔔 Spennser just posted, check it out!

─────── · ·

Liked by trevorevarts, ianhecox, co_mill and others

spennser first date and just married, quite the day! w/@.yourusername

View all 1,245 comments

yourusername you forgot engaged too*

↳ spennser sorry my bad 😞

username24 if you two didn't end up going out after THAT episode, I would believe that love is dead, not blind... or well maybe both idk

Ianhecox this post is doing numbers, please make more videos together, we need these profit margins 🙏

co_mill you two are so cute, can't wait for when you actually get married! 🥹

↳ spennser who says that that wedding was fake? 🤨 ↳ co_mill no, you are correct. I have no idea what I was saying earlier, beautiful ceremony, now can I have your spouse? ↳ spennser no ❤️

username88 no @.username01 comments?? What in the world is happening here??

trevorevarts cograts, cograts, congrats, and congrats (I think I got them all?)

anthonypadilla I leave smosh again for one day to go to the doctors and now another pair of you are getting married, wtf?

─────── · ·

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt @thevintagefangirl @uniquely-haunting @maricarorp @sarahskywalker-amidala

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joi-me-hoi-me-noi · 1 day ago

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I never had any prom night :( I always wanted one and wear a pretty princess-like dress So could I ask for Shigaraki and any other mha boys making some kind of special prom night? :3 Thank you <33

A/n: Damn Anon! I’ll make sure this is equal to some of my prom nights!!! You’re gonna love it! 😊 Please enjoy! This features Shigaraki & Todoroki

SHIGARAKI Tomura -

“You’ve never been to a prom before Y/n?”

You shake your head, smiling at Toga. Shigaraki listens in as he leans against the doorway.

“I’ve never been but I always wanted to go. When it was prom night, I would watch from afar at all the dresses in the night. I wanted a big dress so bad.”

Shigaraki lifts off his mask and walks to the exit. He simply nods at you and Toga before leaving. He was thankful it was night time since it would be so much easier to get the things he needed.

You’re going to have the best prom with him and everyone else at the LOV!

He knocks on everyone’s door and lets them in on the plan. Dabi was a bit hesitant but after some bribing he said yes. You were one of Dabi's closest friends, so he didn't really need that much convincing.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Y/n, come with me to the roof. I have something important to show you."

"Okay Tomura."

You stand from your seat and follow behind him. You first thought that you were in trouble since you ate all the cookies on top of the fridge but then that thought disappeared as soon as you stepped onto the rooftop.

Little fairy lights ignited all at once when you took a step forward. 'Shigaraki' started to melt into nothing in front of you and the real Tomura Shigaraki was revealed in a suit. Along with the rest of your friends at the LOV. Tomura walks over with a dress in his arms.

"I overheard your conversation with Toga and how you never had a prom before. I took matters into my own hands and - and I got you a little something."

You were led to a dressing room by Toga who was dressed in a pink and red gown. You practically squealed when you saw what he picked out for you. He really did listen to you when you spoke.

Soon, you stepped out of the dressing room and Shigaraki was so in awe that he had to take the hand off his face.

"How do I look?"

"Terrible. Absolutely terrible."

You punch his arm and laugh. "Be so for real Tomura."

"Beautiful. I love this on you."

You spent the entire night talking, drinking and dancing with Shigaraki. It was wonderful, even as the night was coming to an end. You stand next to Tomura and smile at him before placing your hand over his.

“Thank you. This was the most fun I’ve ever had in my life.”

You push your lips softly against his CRUSTY cheek before walking back downstairs. He stands there for a moment, hand hovering over the lipstick stain and relishing in that small moment you had just then. He could feel his cheeks heat up before he also headed downstairs.

———

TODOROKI Shoto -

Shoto just overheard you when you were chatting with the rest of the girls in the common room. You looked like you were about to head to bed. You had your hair wrapped up, silk pajamas and had a pillow squished in your arms.

“I’ve never had a prom before. I’m probably not missing out.”

Some of the girls shared their input about the topic and asked questions.

“Why didn’t you have a prom?”

“I couldn’t afford a dress and I was anxious since I was the odd man out in school.”

You simply smiled and looked at the girls. Some of them looked surprised and showed pity on their faces. You waved your hands when they started to apologize.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I look at it as dress up so I probably didn’t miss out on much.”

You smile, nod at them and then stand from the couch. Shoto was buying snacks from the machine nearby when you stopped behind him.

“Hey Todoroki, you having a movie night or something?”

“Just studying. This’ll help me stay awake and focused.”

He moves to the side so you can get what you want out of the machine. You had grabbed the bag of sour candy and then bid adieu to your classmate. As soon as you entered your dorm, he kept thinking about how sad you looked. He hurried back to his dorm and wrote down ideas to make your night.

He came up with the perfect plan!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You were still awake, staring up at the ceiling and scrolling through your phone. Was that stupid prom talk getting to you?

“Ughhh.” You push a pillow into your face as you sit up from your comfortable position.

Just as you remove the pillow, a knock sounds on your door. You checked your phone and saw it was 2 in the morning. You get up and mope toward your door. You open it and no one is there.

You look down at the floor and see a box of shoes and- is that a dress? You pick up the two items and then you see the note. You read it in your head and smile to yourself.

“Guess I’m getting ready.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After getting ready, you hear a noise from your balcony. You decide to check it out in case it was something serious. You pull back your curtain and look at the ice slide leading to a big patch of ice. You let out a “fuck it” and slide down to meet face to face with Todoroki… in a suit.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Thank you for the dress, I love it.”

“I had a feeling you would.”

He holds out his hand to you and you place your hand in his. He quickly clicks a button on his phone before tossing it to the side. A slow song starts playing and you both rock to the rhythm.

“As a person who’s also never had a prom before, I had to ask my mom about specific details that she remembers.”

He spins you around and goes back to rocking with the rhythm. As a crescendo sounds in the song, bright twinkles form in the sky. He can’t help but look at your facial expression of awe.

“You certainly outdid yourself.” You laugh.

“I couldn’t get everything done that my mom had mentioned in this much time. Only the things she remembered significantly. For example…”

He picks you up and spins you around in his arms. You squeal and laugh in excitement at this. He smiling softly at you, even as he slowly lowers you to the ground. Your arms are around his neck and his are around your waist.

“Did she mention something like…this?”

You lean in and connect your lips in a sweet and gentle kiss. You could feel his left side heating up and his right trying to cool his body down. It was such a nice sensation. You didn’t even want to move away.

You wanted to stay just a little while longer.

———————

A/n: that’s it! Thank you so much! Please think about requesting when you leave! Byeeee!

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maybanksprincess · 12 hours ago

Text

isnt the same without you.

warnings: comforting, fluff, insecurity, a little bit of blood.

summary: jj goes to a party without reader for the first time, and when jjs phone dies, she starts to overthink. (based off this ask, thank you anon!)

a/n: this is sort of short because its just a blurb, but i really love this request, its so cute!

pairings: insecure!reader x soft!bf!jj

you weren't feeling up to this big party that everyone was attending tonight. unfortunately, you and jj were planning to go for a few weeks now, and since you didn't wanna go, you didn't wanna stop him from attending it as well.

he insisted that he would stay home and look after you, he offered to buy you snacks and even watch those cheesy romcoms that he absolutely despises, but he tolerates them because you love them.

but you assured him it was okay, and he can go even if it made you feel a little uneasy.

you had never done well with being away from jj for long periods of time, let alone him going to a party without you. but you told yourself to 'grow up' and 'stop being a baby' about it. you needed to get a grip.

you decide to text him about an hour in, just to make sure he was safe, and then you promised yourself you would stop bothering him after that.

imessage:

11:01 pm: hey jay! im just checking in to make sure your okay, i dont wanna bother you or anything so im gonna let you have fun! bye i love you <3

you chew your nails, anxiously waiting on a response from your boyfriend.

about five minutes went by, and you were constantly picking up your phone, swiping up for any sign that he had read the text or responded. but there was nothing.

you waited another ten minutes, then got back to anxiously checking it again, still nothing. delivered.

you told yourself your being dramatic, and went to occupy yourself with doing the dishes, and sweeping the kitchen floor. by the time you had gotten back to your room about fifteen minutes later, there was still nothing.

you toss your phone down onto the bed, feeling frustrated but also upset at the same time. had he been hooking up with another girl? is he drinking too much? what if hes talking to someone else?

all these thoughts cloud your mind, and you find yourself biting down on the skin beside your nail bed. as your chewing away at your skin, your phone dings unexpectedly, causing you to jump a bit, tearing a piece of your skin off. (ouch.)

the sting of the bare skin makes your eyes water a little, a bead of blood trickling down your finger. "ow." you mumble, before picking up your phone and looking at whoever texted you.

it was jj. all your pain was instantly forgotten the moment you seen his text on your screen.

imessage

jayj🤍: "hey beautiful, im sorry i didnt text you back. i forgot my charger like a dumbass. but im at home now, and i didnt have fun. it was boring as shit without u baby."

you instantly reply to his message after reading it, your heart no longer feels like its carrying a weight anymore.

you: "thank you for texting, i was worried sick baby...i literally hurt my finger trying to answer the phone. I thought you might've been cheated on me or something."

you send that text with a underlying hint of insecurity in it, hoping he wont just brush you off. your in need of some reassurance from him right now.

jayj🤍: "baby you hurt your finger?!! and what do u mean 'cheat on you'? thats not even possible for me mama."

the next text eases your worries a bit, but you wanted to get everything off your chest.

you: "i just hate being without you for a long period of time, i wish i would've let you stay in with me tonight, but i know how excited you were for the party."

jayj🤍: "oh baby, no. parties are not the same without you. i would never cheat on you, im sorry if i made you feel that way, but that isn't me. you know your stuck with me forever mama, whether you like it or not."

now all your worries and insecurities are instantly gone, touched by your boyfriend's loyalty to you.

after you let yourself think for a moment, you remember the minor injury you caused yourself a few minutes back and wince slightly at the sting.

as if exactly on cue, jj double texts you.

jayj🤍: "oh and im on my way with some bandaids and snacks, i love you baby. unlock the door for me beautiful."

after he sends that text, you hear jjs dirtbike pull up.

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do-you-ship-it-polls · 2 days ago

Note

I am the first anon who posted about misandry. Thank you for your answer, I understand better why you posted this banner.

I just want to make a distinction between what I'd call feminist misandry and TERF misandry.

My friends are the farthest you can imagine from TERF (a lot of them are even trans). They are misandric because a lot have suffered from cis-men. For them, misandry is a protective instinct: if you meet a group of cis-men, be careful.

They hate cis-men as an oppressive group. They don't take a essentialistic view of masculinity, but a sociological one. Men are a group of power, that can abuse it, and they will protect each other. And of course, they don't include trans women in it. (A lot of the feel waaaaay safer with trans women than cis men).

That has nothing to do with TERFs, who use misandry to say "trans women are oppressors" or "trans women are essentially men"

Anyway, I understand the desire to piss off terfs and radfems. But I'd be sad if the word "misandry" was appropriated by them.

Sorry to bring that discourse, and thank you for the clarification!

genuinely don't understand why people are so deadset on identifying themselves as bigots who think 50% of humanity is out to get them. like, being against the patriarchy means you're a feminist or anti-sexist or ideally just a normal person but idk how many people agree. irrational hatred of men is not the same as wanting to knock the patriarchy down, all it does is just: be irrational hatred against men. when there's discussions like this, it also verges on "trans men aren't real men" territory because for some people, they are the exception. until they go on T and dress in a masculine way, then they're too cis man-like to participate in queer spaces (dunno how common it is, but it does happen!)

english isn't my first language, nor have I grown up in an american culture, so I wonder if it's my use of the word misandry that sets people off? like, is that a loaded word? because the definition of misandry is simply "hatred against men". it doesn't mean you feel uncomfortable with men or are scared of them, it means you hate men. I never thought that I would get so much shit for saying that it's weird to have such a deep, blind hatred for half of humanity. I don't think the word can be appropriated my radfems/terfs because there's nothing to be taken out of context, it means the same thing for anyone who uses the word.

why not just call yourself a feminist, an anti-sexist person, an anti-patriarchy person, etc etc. why do you label yourself as a person who hates all men for being born men and no matter what they do, they can never become a good person because they were born as men? I'm genuinely so baffled. not that anyone is planning on changing their mind about this, atleast not me.

thanks to the comments and asks that confirm to me that I'm not crazy for thinking this lol. also, I'm just some guy behind the screen. you can unfollow, block me, ask me to remove your submissions from the queue, whatever.

Just a fun side note, you know who started this discourse in the first place? All of this about transandrophobia and misandry?

little chihiro over on my queer blog... (I really liked the headcanon so if the person who submitted them sees this, i'm not saying it's your fault at all) just funny that it's this little cute character.

I should probably stop answering asks about his now.

#mod talks shit #not a poll

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flyinghome-againstthewind · 1 year ago

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Your top 5 JxC scenes from The Outlander ?

Hi there! So sorry I have been sitting on this for forever. It is a struggle for me to pick my favorite of anything usually so I just couldn't make up my mind 😅 So this is like, my top 5 JxC scenes from Outlander that immediately come to mind (and in no particular order!)!

This will not be shocking to anyone, but the scene in 2x06 where they're cuddling in bed and talking sweetly to each other and Jamie feels Faith kick. That whole scene is so tender and lovely and just 🥺🥺🥺!!

The 5x11 window scene. They're so MARRIT in that scene, I actually cannot stand it 🥰 It has everything! Jamie waking up immediately bc Claire is not beside him! Going after her bc gotta make sure wifey is okay! Their entire exchange leading up to "your special perfume??"! Claire with the butt smack! The way Jamie is so upset with himself when he says "You wanted me and I fell asleep without touching you, I'm sorry"! The way that Claire's voice gets all soft when she says "you were tired..."! 😭 Jamie making it up to his wife for falling asleep without touching her!!!

I'm cheating and saying all of their scenes together in The Wedding. This is like my ultimate comfort episode because so much of it is simply Jamie and Claire being adorable and falling hopelessly in love with their new spouse, and there is almost no drama or danger or other plots in that episode. I just love newlywed JC so much 🥹🥰

THE DEVIL’S MARK!!! 😭 Claire trusting Jamie and telling him the truth and him believing her even if he doesn’t understand it. That’s love!!! I lose my mind every time I watch that scene!!

As much as I love A. Malcolm, I think I gotta go with the turtle soup scene in 3x11. I love drunk, flirty, giggly Claire with my whole heart, and after all the shit they've been through, they deserve to be silly and horny together!! Also Jamie not being able to administer the shot bc he cannot hurt Claire 😭🥰

#jamie x claire #outlander #ask #anonymous #thank you for the ask anon!! this was fun!

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egophiliac · 9 months ago

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What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 chapter 4 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 chapter 4 spoilers #stage in playful land #i hope this is legible whoops #anon i am sorry but you made the fatal mistake of asking me to talk about diasomnia #insert 'i just think they're neat' jpg #i do like the other characters a lot but they are definitely my favorites #they just hit a lot of my favorite things in characters i guess!#yes even you sebek even though you keep shrieking NINGEN at me #(it's okay he gets Character Development™ later)#and their dynamic! it's great! these guys frikking love each other SO much and they WILL have terrible terrible angst about it #ohoho delicious #give me all your emotional hangups baybeeeee #also somewhere in there i went from 'i like them all equally (but lilia is the most fun to draw)'#to 'lilia is absolutely my favorite (and still the most fun to draw) (EVEN MORE fun now thank you swishy ponytail!)'#(it was probably when his candy coating got a little scratched and whoops all the tragedy fell out)#(where's that 'get loved loser' post because i need to staple it to lilia's forehead)#i am extremely bad at putting things into words so please don't ask me to explain it any further #just know that the diafam is everything to me and if we don't get more episode 7 soon i'm going to crumble into dust and blow away #we'll be getting the crowleytimes on monday and maybe there will be. idk. some foreshadowing or something in his groovy #probably not but LOOK i'm desperate

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historical-fashion-polls · 1 day ago

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Hey, I'm not the original anon, and I think it's unfortunate that their ask has had such a negative impact, but I do kinda get where they're coming from and thought I might be able to add some insight. I've been following this blog for a bit and I do definitely think I'm developing a "feel" for which outfit will be in the lead (often strong, deep colors, silhouette that's attractive by modern standards). That's not necessarily a bad thing, and I don't think it called for a grumpy ask, but I can see anon's point, especially in the context of frustration with costuming in period productions, which often goes for a "historical vibe without being too weird for modern viewers" approach. But these polls aren't a competition, and it's fun to play fashion judge with them. Anyway, thanks for all the great work you do, have a good day!

hi dear anon! 💕

thank you for your thoughts on this, and I'm so glad to hear that you're enjoying the blog! ☺️☺️

in the time since this was sent, I have heard from the original anon again, so I will link that response here, as my response to them is similar to what I would respond here!

as I mentioned, it's definitely worth having a conversation about attention to historical detail in media! 💕💕 but I do fear it often comes down to factors like money and time, since – from what I've seen and heard – costume designers are often massively underpaid and underfunded, and frequently given insufficient time to complete the kind of work that historical detail requires

I don't doubt that some aspects of the skimping on historical details are down to making things more approachable to modern audiences, but also I think it's not a phenomenon that's particularly new. for example, check out this "1830" costume from 1910 or even a well-known film like It's a Wonderful Life where I'm always jolted from the dance scene that ostensibly takes place in the 1920s by the aggressively 1940s style of the dresses and hair (not a dropped waist in sight lmao) 😆😆

as I mentioned, I do truly hope that the blog might help people gain a better understanding of historical fashion, even if it is mostly for fun! and even if responses do trend toward more "modern" looking garments, I'm hoping folks still enjoy the exposure to a wide range of historical styles! ☺️💕 I'm still nowhere near an expert, but I can say that I myself have learned a ton since starting the blog! ☺️☺️

anyway, suffice it to say that this is a definitely a complex topic that is worth analyzing, so thank you for sending in your thoughts on it! 🥰🥰

#the curator speaks #curatorial correspondences

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 4 months ago

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HEAR ME OUT

“Don’t you think I’m scary?”

“Scary? My god you’re divine”

AHHHHH

FuskqosnisisbssbjHWISNSKSOAOAKWAJ 😭😭🤭🤭😋😋

I love two lovestruck idiots who don’t know they’re in love w each other and it’s grumpy German shepherd x golden retriever 😻😻

PLEAAASEE german shepherd x golden retriever is one of my faaavvv tropes OAT !! it’s so so adorable and especially with katsuki cus i know he just thinks he’s so scary ! i got a lil idea after the recent manga chap that just came out, so this might be a liiiiiittle super small spoiler but i think its so cute ! hope you enjoy anon tysm for the ask ! much luv xxx

fem reader, super duper minooor spoiler but katsuki has stitches !, mutual pining, idiots in love, soft katsu (cus he has to be but also cus he’s whipped) (but hes still a little piece of shit) reader is a lil sweetie, short lil fluffy fic, touchy katsuki bc i cannot help myself, lmk if i missed anything else !

before the war, bakugou had made a lot of new little habits.

he’s made it a habit of waiting for you to head out of class so you could walk together. he’s made it a habit of sharing just a portion of his lunch with you, because apparently he’s constantly been making too much, ignore the fact that he only let’s you have those ‘extra’s’ that doesn’t mean anything.

he’s made it a habit of carrying around an extra water bottle with him because you always forget to keep yourself hydrated after training, he’s also made it a habit to scold you for it endlessly. he’s ruthless even as you whine about how mean he is, saying that “he wouldn’t need to be on your ass so much if you just remembered to grab your damn bottle.” he ignores the fluffy feeling in his heart and tells you to shut up when you tell him that he always has your back anyway, swiftly looking away from you and cheeks turning red.

and since you're on the way to his house, he's made it a habit of walking you home. you call it hanging out after school, he calls it 'just making sure you don't get lost somehow..hah ?! don't ask me how ! your dumbass would probably find a way to !'

anyway, he's made it his mission to grace you with his presence every day after school. you always bid him a cheery goodbye, "see you tommorow !" you say, and he always looks forward to it, even when he turns away, nonchalantly throwing you a quick wave over his shoulder.

usually you wake up at completely different hours, so he doesn't pick you up the morning. you always wished you could see him first thing in the morning, but seeing him waiting by the school gate's was more than enough to make your heart soar, you were more than happy with that.

but today you can finally go back to school. after dealing with non stop fighting for what felt, and probably was, hours and hours on end during the events of the war. and being stuck in the hospital for a few weeks, it feels nice to wear your school uniform and feel somewhat normal again. you'd get to see all your friends again and you'd official be a second year. you smile softly to yourself in the mirror.

katsuki had sent you a text a few minutes ago. he'd asked if you were almost ready, and you'd responded that you were only for him to leave you on read. you didn't mind much and shrugged it off.

but today, when you walk out the door, you see katsuki waiting for you on the sidewalk.

you blink twice, eyes widening. katsuki turns and looks up from his phone screen at the sound of the door he also blinks, although he's more unbothered then you as he simply stands up, pushing himself off his knees with a groan "took you long enough." he drawls. his eyes are warm and his lip twitch just the slightest bit at your expression "thought you'd keep me waiting forever."

"katsuki !" you exclaim, eyes still wide "what're you doing here ?!" you quickly walk to him, standing close enough to see the marks on his face, and the unmistakable stitches on his cheek.

he raises a brow like you're crazy, tilting his head "m'walking you to school."

"bwuh-are you even allowed to go to school ?" you sputter, realising he had his school uniform on, you liked it when he started making it a habit of wearing his tie more often. katsuki grumbles at your worries "shouldn't you be in the hospital ?" he scoffs at your fretting, but his eyes soften as he leans in closer to you. you see his battle scars better that way. you gulp at the sudden proximity, he's never been shy about getting in people's faces, although it was never meant to be intimidating when he did it with you, if the pink tint of his cheeks meant anything.

"doc said it's fine as long as i keep quiet.." he scoffs after finishing the sentence, rolling his eyes and causing you to giggle. hearing the sound he hadn't heard in what felt like ages made him sniff in amusement. you reach for his hand then, and he doesn't take his eyes off you while intertwining his fingers with yours. both your eyes shining with longing and affection for the other. you smile brightly at him and even though the doctors had told him to be careful with his heart, it seemed you were gonna make that hard for him. it didn't matter though, he was always up for a challenge.

pulling him along, you decide to tease him "guess that means you're gonna have to be on your best behaviour today, huh ? so you can't go gettin' mad at kaminari for no reason !" you playfully scold.

he rolls his eyes at the mention of your friend, though he doesn't hold back his smirk, he's definitely more open then he was compared to when you'd first started school. thinking about how far you've come together makes you happy, but it also feels bittersweet. "dunce face s'the who keeps pissin' me off, not my fault he can't handle it." you snicker and he snorts in amusement, squeezing your hand and making butterflies squirm around in your stomach. you don't mention the tight grip he has on your hand, probably because you're gripping his just as tight with no intention of letting go anytime soon. you probably look like a couple to the people walking by, you realise. and the thought does not displease you at all, far from it. it makes you a little too happy.

"behave." you squeeze his hand.

"i do." he growls, squeezing back, "he keeps trying me." you respond with a snort. your eyes occasionally fly towards his face, to the stitches on it more specifically. he's caught you looking multiple times on the way to the bus stop, not like you were exactly being subtle. your stare makes him nervous and he decides to finally confront you about it when you get to the bus stop.

"spit it out." he says, hands clammy in your grip, he hopes and prays you don't notice because it's so unbearably embarrassing to have to admit he was worried about what you'd think about his new look. he'd been anxious on your doorstep but you didn't give him much of a reaction, too shocked to even see him at the time, but your constant shifty glances made all the anxiety crawl back up again. so he speaks, keeping these distracting and frankly irritating thoughts to himself just irritated him.

you blink, humming curiously. katsuki grumbles to himself, keeping his eyes from yours. "ya keep staring at me, so what's up ?"

"it's strange seeing you with stitches." you answer bluntly. usually, he likes how honest you are, but right now it does nothing but stress him out. "i heard you messed your face up pretty bad, but i'm glad it didn't leave too much of a nasty scar." you muse. katsuki hums but his eyebrows furrow as he catches your last words, he's a little pissed off that you'd heard about what happened during the war. he'd wanted you to know as little as possible to keep from worrying you, or at the very least he'd wanted to tell you himself. he'll make sure to thoroughly question his fuckass friends later. of course, it also could've been her.

"..how'd you-"

"your mom told me."

he grunts. of course, it was his mom.

that damn hag..

"of course." he mutters bitterly. you don't respond, and to him that's all the answer he needs. a pit settles in his stomach.

"yeah, it's weird, isn't it ?" he agrees bitterly, unconsciously tightnening his grip on your hand. "it looks kinda creepy, right ?"

"what do you mean ?" his jaw tightens " i mean..like, on my face..." he sputter and mutters to himself, unable to properly say what he wants. you understand him though and immediately you turn till your face to face with him. your expression determined as you grab his other hand, both of his scarred hands now in your grip. his eyes widen in shock, embarrassment creeping up on him.

"there's nothing wrong with your face, katsu." you reassure, you'd made it a habit of calling him all those stupidly endearing nicknames, and it doesn't help taming the blush on his face slowly bleeding onto his cheeks. he pouts, fixing his gaze onto you and towards the floor.

"but doesn't it look..i dunno," he mutters, suddenly feeling self conscious "scary ?"

"scary ?" you tilt your head, he squints and looks away.

"i guess." he grunts with a nod, trying to save face. obviously it doesn't work by the look on yours. you're always so bubbly and sweet, he hates seeing such a pained expression on your face. you tug at his arms to get him to look at you "scary ? there's nothing scary about you.." you say sweetly, shaking your head. "i personally think you look really cool.." you mutter. katsuki feels his face heat, but his heart soars nonetheless. his eyes have been stuck wide for a second.

cool.

you think he looks cool.

"i was just wondering if they hurt ?" he tilts his head back in thought at that. instictively running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"nah, just felt weird when they were numbing it. but i didn't feel a thing." he shrugs, he suddenly smirks, the stitches being pulled up by the movement "wanna touch em ?" he teases, pulling you closer by the grip he still has on your hands. your eyebrows shoot to your hairline and he barks out a laugh.

"i-i can't do that ! what if i touch them and they come loose or something !" katsuki rolls his eyes at your jittering, using the hand still in his grip to bring it near his cheek, you desperately pull back and his evil smirk widens.

"katsuki, no !" you protest. he cackles meanly.

"it's fine." he insists, your pointer finger grazes his cheek and you turn your head away.

"i don't wanna !" you shake your head, your shoulders shaking as you hold back a giggle.

"yn. you're fine." he insists. he'd made it a habit of calling you by your first name after you'd started hanging out more. you called most of your friends by their first names pretty quickly into the year, your cheeriness making it easy for you to get along with everyone but you always were a little on guard with katsuki at first. he'll never admit it, but he was a little jealous that you'd call everyone in your shared friend group by their first name except for him. the sweet bubbly tone in your voice when you called for sero or kirishima made a nasty feeling bubble up in the pits of his stomach he'd desperately tried to push away. until one day he'd snapped during your group outing at the mall (outing he was coerced into going to by kirishima after finding out you where going too)

he'd regretted how whiney and bitter he sounded at the time, but he thinks it was worth it every time you'd look at him and say his name so sweetly, definitely worth it, as embarrassing as it was. and he'd started calling you by your first name too shortly after. all your friends do, but it felt so, so different with him.

finally your fingers make contact with the staples on his cheek. you peek up to look at him then. you run your fingers across them ever so softly, making sure not to hurt him. katsuki slowly let's go of your hand. unmoving and unnervingly still as you take your time scanning his face.

"so ?" he raises a brow, smirk slowly melting into a softer smile as he sees you smile to yourself.

"it's..not bad.." you tentatively start, still too worried to move too suddenly. he hums playfully. "and you don't feel it at all ?" you ask

"at all." he softly shakes his head. you don't realise you've gotten closer to his face but he sure has, and you end up realizing a little too late, but neither of you move away. you try to, but katsuki pulls you back in before you can get far. "do i still look cool up close ?" he jests, but there's some seriousness and vulnerability in his gaze. you smile warmly.

"yup," you say softly, you hear katsuki inhale sharpy, eyes never leaving yours "definitely still the coolest. not scary at all" you giggle, he rolls his eyes but chuckles. before you can question your positition or move away (or closer) to him you see the bus arriving in the distance. he notices it too and you share a look before you take a step back, smiling shyly at the floor while he keeps his gaze on the bus on the way.

until—

"OW, fuck !!"

your eyes snap up to see katsuki holding his cheek in his hand, your heart hammers and your eyes widen. you're next to him in two steps. "what, what—why-what happened ??!" you stammer, your hands reaching up to grab ahold of his face though you stutter, maybe it was your fault ?!

until—katsuki bursts out laughing. mean, but undeniably cute watery cackles that have you furrowing your brows in confusion until your jaw drops in realization.

the. asshole.

"you're not funny !" you whine, pushing at his arm although pushing might be the overstatement of the century. it could be more comparable to a nudge because even though he is an asshole, you wouldn't want to hurt him. even if he deserves it, you're better than that. you'll just think about hurting him.

katsuk chuckles breathelessly, grabbing your arm while you walk closer and stretch your arm out to signal the bus to stop. "it was funny, admit it !"

"you suck. you're the worst." scanning your bus ticket and walking ahead ignoring him, katsuki quickly scans his ticket and follows diligently behind you.

"you thought it was hilarious." he smirks.

"the absolute worst, the lowest of the low." you huff, ignoring the persistant heat of his eyes on you. he only snickers.

"i see you laughing."

today, you arrive to school with katsuki not at the school gates waiting for you, but walking together with you to start your new school year as second years. and you both hope you can make a habit out of this.

#thanks for the ask anon!#it was super fun to write and a fun way to come back from break !#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou drabble #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n

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