#fic: amnesia

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

Play Pretend

Yandere Past Stalker x Fem Reader

TW: unsettling themes, manipulation, stalking (mentioned), yandere behavior, and drugging

Sizzle. Snap. Pop.

The sounds of eggs frying on a pan filled (your name)’s ears while she sat at the mahogany kitchen table. No matter how many times her husband made her breakfast, she couldn’t quite get used to it… (your name) couldn’t help but feel as if there was something horribly amiss.

A little voice often cried in the corners of her mind that this beautiful man was not her husband. That he was an imposter. Yet she couldn’t understand the voice… this man had to be her husband!

Desiderio was there by her side the moment she opened her eyes when she woke up from her coma. She recalled how his large hands held hers while fat tears rolled down his cheeks. That man clung to her like a lifeline, his lips fervently pressed against the top of her head the moment her eyes fluttered open.

And here she was today! In their house that still felt foreign to her despite the two months that had rolled by… a foreign home with no tv nor a radio. A home full of books, plants, and even six photo albums of her. Yet there weren’t many pictures of the two of them together... Desiderio was an incredibly passionate man when it came to her. (Your name) had no doubt this man worshipped the ground she walked on.

(Your name) jumped when a neatly prepared plate was placed in front of her. Desiderio’s chocolate eyes scanned her face with a frown before he smiled brightly.

“Cara mia, you’re lost in thought again.” Desiderio took a seat beside her, large hand now wrapped around hers. His dark eyes filled with concern. “You’ll get a headache if you think too hard about everything… how about you try some eggs? I prepared them just the way you like them!”

(Your name) smiled at her husband who gently pushed the plate closer to her. “Aren’t you going to eat too, darling?”

The large man shivered at the nickname, a dark blush now on his cheeks. “Yes… but I worry more about you. You’re still so weak.”

Desiderio pressed a kiss on the top of her head before he made his way over to fetch himself a plate.

(Your name) raised a brow at the slightly unsavory taste of the eggs. How odd… had her husband used a new kind of seasoning?

(Your name) continued to much away, blissfully unaware of the twisted smile on Desidedio’s face. The brunette’s hands shook as he tried to keep his breathing calm.

Desiderio had loved this beautiful woman since university nearly a decade ago. He knew they were destined to be together from a single glance and Desiderio would have done anything to make sure that happened…

(Your name) was like a fairy tale princess who was kind to everyone, even someone like him. Desiderio was a loser back then. A nerd with little social skills and a scrawny body, he was half the man his brother was… all his life he was compared to his perfect brother. All because he wasn’t athletic.

Desiderio always yearned for (your name) and her affection. It wasn’t fair that his older brother was the one who swooped her up. His cold, neglectful brother who had the emotional capacity of a rock.

It wasn’t fair! Sirius knew Desiderio loved (your name)! Sirius had everything growing up. The family business, the looks, the love of their parents, the money, everything. So why did Sirius get the girl too?

What could (your name) possibly see in Sirius? Sirius was dull and uninteresting, he was only handsome and the heir to a multi-generational company. He had no other redeeming traits! Desiderio was far more romantic and he always left her loving notes in the locker! Was his heartfelt emotion not enough for (your name)?

Desiderio went into a deep depression when the love of his life married Sirius. He threw himself into medical school and painstakingly climbed up the ladder until he made it to the position of medical director. Desiderio worked out until sweat would puddle at his feet, he grew out his black hair, and he became a beloved member of society to try to forget (your name).

It was pure luck (your name) had gotten hit by that car and ended up in a coma at his hospital. It was destiny that her workaholic husband ignored the frantic calls of the nurses and that he only left his last name down as her emergency contact. It was simply too easy to slip his fingers into the sweet honey pot he had always wanted…

And it was even better that she had amnesia. Now Desiderio could mold her in the way that was always intended… as his wife. There would never be a day where she’d feel unloved or neglected. She’d be pampered and endlessly doted on like the princess she was!

(Your name) let out a cute yawn as she stretched her arms above her head. The sweet sight snapped Desiderio from his musings. Goodness she was so precious… and she was all his.

Desiderio slithered forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders with a smirk.

“Cara mia, it seems you’re still sleepy. How about I carry you back to bed?” Desiderio pressed a tender kiss to her temple. The softest of smiles on his plump lips. “We can lay on each other’s arms for a while longer.”

“You’re always so sweet…” (your name) nuzzled her head into Desiderio’s shoulder as the man gave her a bright smile. “I don’t know where I’d be without my darling husband.”

“You’d just be cold and lonely.” Desiderio would play pretend until the very end.

#female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere original character #original work #yandere obsession #Yandere man #Yandere male #yandere boy #stalker yandere #yandere stalker #thriller #Yandere husband #yandere lovers #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere short story #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere concept #yandere writing #yandere stories #obsessive yandere #yandere x darling #amnesia

[fanaticsnail]

Remember Me

Hello Shanks fans!

This work was requested by @aishabbbb, which I linked back to here for the full description of the prompt. This is my third (technically fourth because my thoughts ran away with me!) requested work that I've completed.

I'm not currently taking requests, but if you do want to see my writing style depict a specific idea, I will honestly most likely hyper-fixate on it until the idea consumes me if you do ask me nice enough. I do appreciate a good prompt! And seriously, who doesn't love an amnesia trope!

Word Count: 6,636

My Masterlist is here!

Echoes of gruff laughter lingered in the air as tankards of ale clanged against one another. It had been a while since the Red-Hair Pirates had made port and as they viewed a rowdy port full of lively music, contagious laughter and bursting at the seams with a variety of pleasurable company; they could not resist.

This port had been known for some time to be a lawless town, accepting of any journeymen as they resupplied their vessels, sailors selling their wares and even the odd Marine here or there had graced the town with their presence. The World Government paid no mind to the comings or goings, knowing should the port be shut down; their supply of rum would slowly dwindle away.

The Captain of the Red-Hair Pirates sat upon a stool at the rear of the room as he stared into the bottom of his tankard, watching the amber liquid slosh from side to side. He withdrew into himself; his former joy and carefree attitude no longer present on his features this night.

A woman with a painted face sauntered over towards the captain, swaying her hips as she overemphasized her intentions.

“Care for some company, sweetheart?” she asked him in a sultry tone as she took his hand in hers that still clasped the tankard. He made eye contact and smiled from the corner of his mouth before withdrawing the hand from her grip and drew his drinking vessel to his mouth.

“Not today, love,” he said, taking a drink from his tankard, “but I can point you in the direction of someone who would be more than happy to share your time.”

She smiled as Shanks gestured to his senior officer, who had a black bandana featuring a white jolly roger insignia atop his lengthy blonde hair. His expression was one of a displeasing grimace, black glasses concealing more of his irritation behind them.

“See if you can bring a smile to his face, would you?” he laughed slightly as she nodded as she made her way to her next target.

Plonking two fresh pints down on the table before him, Benn Beckman sighed as he sat on a stool facing his Captain; taking one of the pints and gesturing for Shanks to do the same.

“You turned her away?” Beckman questioned his Captain, “I thought you’d enjoy a pretty blonde giving you attention this time.”

“I’m not as open today as I have been any other day to the company of a painted lady,” Shanks laughed in response raising his pint and clanging it against his First-Mate’s, “or any other man or woman you’ve since such sent my way. You know this.”

“Oh,” Beckman uttered, eyes widening before looking down at the table, “I didn’t realise it was today. Sorry Cap’n.”

“Don’t apologise, Beckman,” he smiled at him before drinking from the tankard. He moaned slightly as the cool, bubbling liquid hit his lips and he tasted the bitter flavour of the hoppy amber ale.

“How long has it been since-?” Beckman began, halting his words in search for the more appropriate way of phrasing it.

“How long has it been since my bride was claimed at sea?” Shanks offered to complete his First-Mate’s sentence. Beckman nodded in response, gesturing with his pint for Shanks to offer his answer.

Shanks sighed and leant back in his stool, his back thumping against the small railing at the back.

“This day marks ten years,” he added with a sad smile. A silence fell between them as they reminisced the day the Captain of the Red-Hair Pirate’s wife was lost to him.

After a brief pause, they commenced their drinking as they surveyed the movements of the patrons and crew interacting with one another.

Beckman raised his tankard to his lips and begin to gulp with gusto at the frothing liquid. He trailed his eyes throughout the bar as he did so; looking to Limejuice as he grit his teeth tightly at the blonde woman’s incessant and unrelenting flirtation was thrust upon him.

He continued his assessment of the room before his attention was caught by a group of sailors laughing amongst each other, a woman throwing her had back at the joke uttered by one among them. Benn Beckman spluttered into his tankard, coughing as the amber ale entered into his wind pipe and corrupted his lungs with it. He continued to draw in his breaths while maintaining visual contact on the situation unfolding before him.

“Benn,” Shanks addressed his choking crewman, “you alright?”

The First-Mate continued coughing and spluttering, managing to relieve his lungs of the bitter substance and gasping in a long breath. His pigment all but fled from his face as he continued staring blankly at the bar in horror.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Shanks laughed, placing his tankard down on the table before clapping a hand against the upper arm of Beckman’s shoulder.

“I-I think I have,” Beckman stuttered slightly before bringing his attention to his captain, “look to the bar and tell me if you can see her too, Captain.”

Shanks furrowed his brows in confusion, laughing lightly at the confession of his crewman before turning and immediately having the playful expression pulled from his lips.

“You see her?” Beckman asked him in a voice just above a whisper.

The Captain wordlessly rose to his feet, almost toppling the stool over in the process as he made his way to approach the woman. His bride, his queen. His whole world was carelessly and unaware of his presence as the melodical laugh fell from her lips; a sound Shanks never thought he would once again experience.

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

You tapped the chest of the older sailor in front of you as you continued to laugh at his joke.

“Harold,” you gasped, wiping a tear from your eye, “and that’s the reason you only have three toes on your left foot?”

“Honest to goodness, lass,” he continued to rumble laughter, his eyes twinkling with utter mischievousness, “the bloody crab nearly carved the whole lot off, if not for my quick thinking!”

He imitated the pinching movements of a crab’s claw and crooked his head to make himself look as crab-like as he could, prompting another roar of laughter to erupt between the sailors and yourself.

“Alright, I’ll get you that drink then,” you teetered your laughter and turned to address the bartender you had come to know, “Mary, give us a couple schooners of ale- the pale stuff if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Right you are, my love,” she acknowledged your order and began pouring the foamed liquid into two smaller cups.

It had been ten years since you found yourself lying upon the shore with no recollection of who or what you were before your arrival. Thankfully enough, your body was strong. You knew how to hold your own when it came to unwarranted and unreciprocated attention, often brawling with men to assert yourself among them.

As you needed a job to afford food, you managed to bully Captain Harold of the Angelfish Shepherds Fishing Crew and would accompany them out to sea, bringing in several catches a day and selling their many items throughout town. It was only when the sun would disappear behind the horizon, you would come home to the tavern: "Mary’s Resting Track" and make yourself comfortable with your crew at the bar; drinking well into the night.

Just as Mary had finished pouring from the keg, you felt an arm placed upon your left shoulder, prompting you to turn to face it's source.

“My bride,” a tall, red-headed man gasped in a voice above a whisper as he drew you in to place his lips against yours. You squealed at the tender impact, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth at the sudden softness and passion you felt from the unknown man. You pushed on his chest slightly before creasing your brows in confusion.

“Steady on, Sailor. Save it for your wife,” you laughed at him, collecting the two schooners from the bar and placing one into the hands of Captain Harold, “or at least buy me a drink first!”

You laughed, prompting your crew to do the same as they raised their glasses and took a drink. You rose yours to your lips and drank from it, keeping playful eye contact with the sailor before you.

He was handsome, his red hair immediately drawing you in. He had a black cloak shrouding his left arm from view and a three-point claw mark over his left eye. His face held a shocked, sobering expression on it as if he was staring at something extra-terrestrial in make.

“Y-You,” he stuttered out, “Y-You’re.”

The words caught in his throat as he again reached his right hand up to attempt to secure a fallen strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You swatted his hand away from completing the action.

“No,” you said firmly, playfulness leaving your face as your eyebrows collected themselves with a frown, “no one touches my hair. It’s out of bounds to even those who know me, and know me; you do not.”

You swiped his arm away fully away from your face while keeping a warning, reprimanding look on your features. He continued to stare at you, his eyes swelling slightly as they fluttered between your own; pleading with you and searching within them for a small shroud of recognition.

“She’s saving it for her beloved,” your crewman mocked you in a high-pitched tone, bringing humour once again to the room. You laughed at his jest, prompting you to turn away from the red head to scold his imitation.

“I don’t sound like that,” you laughed at him, prompting your crewman to again mock you by wobbling his head from side to side and scrunching up his face.

You turned back around to see the man again gazing with a fierce intensity born deeply into your eyes and managed this time to tuck a strand of your hair behind your left ear with his right hand. At this, you brought your own hand firmly up and struck the side of his face, all humour once again leaving you.

At the crisp strike, chaos erupted at the bar. A crew of pirates drew their pistols, pointing it towards you; while your crew of sailors pulled their own from their belt and aimed it at them in response. You kept your eyes completely fixed on the red-haired pirate as his face continued to hold a yearning expression.

“She gave you a warning, Sailor,” your Captain spat at him, “I don’t care how much ale you consumed, you respect the wishes of a lady.”

This seemed to shatter whatever illusion was held on the redhead in front of you as he looked to the assortment of pirates behind him. He held up his hands in defence of himself, taking a step back from his proximity near you and nodding his head in a deep bow.

“Easy, lads,” he smiled, “put them away. We don’t bring out our guns at one little slap.”

The crew focussed their attention on you as you shook your head and creased your brows at his address. He again turned to you, and bowed his head slightly deeper as an apology.

“You’ll have to excuse me, miss,” he uttered, “I didn’t mean to cross your boundary. It was reactionary, and for that I offer my most sincere apologies.”

Your gaze softened at his words as you gently used your pointer finger to raise his chin to look at you once more.

“Apology accepted on the condition of buying me and my friends a round of drinks,” you scrunched your nose with a small wink. He laughed at your remark, shaking his head and smiling once more.

“I would have to agree, miss. Definitely the next one on me,” he continued to gaze into your eyes as you withdrew your finger from his chin and tapped his nose with it playfully.

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

You didn’t remember him. That must be the only reason you didn’t hoist yourself into his single arm and cling yourself against him. Why you didn’t lean into the kiss and allow him to lace his hand into your hair and relieve your face from it shrouding your vision. The act so intimately solidifying your relationship in the early days, holding onto it as you spoke your wedding vows.

No-one was to ever touch your hair apart from yourself and your beloved were the words you spoke while dressed in your white, lace dress aboard the Red Force; Beckman performing the ceremony all those years ago.

You were married in your youth, relationship blossoming from friendship to something more on the Oro Jackson under the watchful gaze of Gol D. Roger. The subtle glances turned into subtle touches, turning into kisses stolen from within the hidden halls of the Oro Jackson as you would press each other against the walls and roam your hands along your bodies.

He was obsessed with your hair, and with each caress, each embrace, he would find himself absent-mindedly playing with it. You vowed alongside your commitment in matrimony that only he and he alone would be allowed to tuck your hair behind your ear in adoration; and you be the only one permitted to place a kiss atop the crown of his head.

Shanks had to contain himself as his soul screamed within the chasms of his chest to embrace you, to hold you against him and cry out in joy at your return. He didn’t touch another woman in the ten long years it had been since your last departure; the notion turning to ash in his mouth at the mere suggestion. It had only been until recently that Beckman prompted him to seek out someone to relieve his tension, but he felt it would’ve been an insult to the beautiful memories you shared with one another.

You were even in the process of early conversations on what starting a family would look like aboard the Red Force with his assortment of rowdy crew.

You would bicker at having the ship make birth permanently at a port, returning every two weeks to the solid shore as Shanks refused to halt his travels. He wanted you and the children aboard, rearing them alongside his crew; an idea you immediately shot down as you understood infants waking and crying at every interval and the disruption would not be fair to bring to the crew.

Shanks remembered Beckman adding to that conversation with: “We’re already getting sleepless nights from the sounds echoing the halls originating at your quarters!”

He chuckled at the memory before he remembered the fear on your face as the storm threw you overboard in your attempt to raise the sheet from the topmast and secure it in place. The black sky and torrential winds making it impossible to see your form as you struggled against the waves. He didn’t see what happened, only noticing your departure once they successfully made it through the storm and into the central eye of it.

The roar-like scream rumbling throughout the chest of the Red-Haired Captain still reverberating within the ears and memories of the entire crew as they recollect it every year. The pain shared amongst them as their captain bore his grief openly; drowning in rum every night before Beckman pulled him out of his rut with the reprimand: “this is not what she would have wanted.”

It mattered not what happened to him from that point. The pain of loosing you was far greater than any earthly injury could bring forth. He didn’t even bat an eye as his arm was claimed by a great Sea-Beast; consuming his flesh within it’s belly. He was more upset by the fact his golden wedding band perished at its disappearance.

And here you were, not a scratch upon you; laughing as if you had not a care in the world.

You had no memory. That was the only explanation Shanks had as he gazed lovingly at you, drinking your free ale at his expense.

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

You shook your head at a comment made by one of your crewmen as they suggested to hold a drinking competition between the red-haired pirate’s crew and your own.

“I don’t think I have enough booze in the house for that,” Mary laughed from behind the bar.

You smiled at her comment, turning back around to see the far off look in the red-head’s eyes.

“You know,” you nudged him with your shoulder, bringing his attention back towards you, “for someone that leads in lips first, you’re awfully quiet.”

He chuckled at your comment, expression softening but with a hidden depth you couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m not usually like this,” he scrunched his nose up with a smile.

“Rough time at sea, then?” you asked him, gesturing to Mary with two fingers to indicate your intentions of purchasing the next round for you and the red-head.

“Not particularly, its just-,” his words trailed off, prompting you to gaze your eyes; flittering them between his own two deep brown orbs before he took a deep breath and looked forward at his crew interacting with your own.

“You gestured for the good stuff, right?” she asked, placing two short, round glasses down on the counter; spiced rum swishing in the base as she did so.

“That I did, love,” you replied, placing down your berry on the counter and taking the glasses from it. You went to place the glass into the red-head Captain’s hands, noticing it was already occupied with a half-drunk tankard of ale.

“You keen on a rum?” you asked him, bringing his gaze up. He gasped out a quick hum, raising the tankard and downing the remainder of his ale with haste and placing the empty vessel atop the bar. He rose his hand to accept your offer and his fingers brushed against your own as he claimed the drink from your hand.

He looked down to your collar bone and noticed a single gold ring hung from a piece of fine leather around it. He furrowed his brows at it as to inspect it from his great distance.

“The gold band around your neck,” he gestured down to your left hand, “are you married?”

“Not to my knowledge, Sailor,” you laughed at him, “I was found with it.”

You sipped at the rum and creased your brows as the heavy alcohol entered your system.

“I apologise for slapping you,” you uttered, “I, uh. I made a promise, you see. I don’t really know what about or to whom, truthfully.”

He hummed at your comment, fixing his eyes on your face as you spoke. He trailed his eyes over your body, looking at you with an expression completely unreadable. Somewhere between: bewildered, surprised, great sorrow, relief, curiosity and apprehension.

“I don’t actually have a lot of that – knowledge, I mean,” you reiterated with a smile, “For the better part of ten years, I’ve been building back what I think I used to be like. I have no idea, though. I could’ve been some prissy young lass with a string of twelve children; or some standoffish, uptight cow-.”

“-You were never like that,” the red-head interrupted you, prompting you to snap your gaze up to meet with his.

“Do you know me, Sailor?” you asked him, your brows creasing together.

“Shanks,” he corrected you, “my name is Shanks.”

“Alright, Shanks,” you corrected yourself, “Do you know me?”

He sighed, drinking a small amount of liquid from his glass and looking to the rowdy crowd as their boisterous laughter echoed throughout the walls.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m going to need two things,” he said, downing the remainder of alcohol from his glass in one quick swell, “another drink, preferably a bottle this time.”

You laughed at him, before asking; “and the other thing?”

“Privacy,” he uttered with a small hint of sadness. You expressed concern within your eyes before patting him on the back and rubbing small circles in comfort to him.

You weren’t sure why you brought your hand up to comfort him, it seemed almost reactionary. A natural instinct of familiarity; organic.

“Alright, Shanks,” you began, making eye contact with Mary once more, “I’ll buy you a bottle under one condition.”

“And what might that be?” he chuckled warmly.

“That you give me a small glint of information before we proceed to the beach,” Mary placed the bottle on the counter and you placed down more berry in response, “I need to know if you are threatening me with a good time, or if you plan on executing me to reclaim some debt.”

“Were we enemies?” you asked him, bearing your gaze at the wall behind the bar.

“Sometimes,” Shanks shrugged his shoulders, prompting you to snap your gaze back to his. He erupted a full belly laugh from his diaphragm at your reaction. He let out a deep sigh before he suggested; “let’s make to the beach and I’ll fill you in.”

Mary smiled, looking between the two of you before the beckoning of Captain Harold and several bottles of the cheapest rum called her from her place before you.

You nodded, neglecting to collect glassware while you grasped the neck of the bottle; not once removing your eyes from the red-head next to you.

You made your way down towards the beach, walking in step with Captain Shanks, as the crew bid him goodnight. You noticed several members of his crew gawked at you as if they had seen a phantom or something of the make.

Once gazing into the open sea, the Captain plonked himself unceremoniously on the sand, legs spread wide as he sat with his knees bent upwards. You smiled at him before crouching down to sit beside him, uncorking the fresh rum bottle in your hands and offering it to him. He smiled as he took it from your grasp and brought it to his lips.

You trailed your eyes over his form, trying to conjure a whisp of memory from the recesses of your mind. After having no image return to you, you rose up your voice.

“So-,” you began, only to be cut off my Shanks.

“You were – are,” he started to relay, laughing at the fact he spoke over you. You nodded to him to continue.

He paused, sighing before again voicing what he was attempting to confess to you.

“It’s been ten years to the day since I lost you,” he sighed, looking down to the sand near his knees, “and not a day went by that my thoughts were not drawn to you.”

You looked at him, puzzled at what he was telling you.

“Your gold band,” he gestured with his hand towards your neck grasping the bottle, keeping his eyes fixed on the sand below him, “was gifted to us by our former Captain we served under: Gol D. Roger. He had a lot of love for you and I.”

“The King of the Pirates?” you asked him, eyes wide before adding, “and us. What do you mean, us?”

He sighed again, this time bringing his head to slouch back as he gazed at the dark and cloudless sky above you.

“I can’t tell you what happened right now. It’s-,” he paused between the words, prompting you to inch forward and look at his face. He turned his face away from you as you attempted to gaze into his eyes; “-it’s too painful today.”

You frowned and instead reached down to the hand placed upon his hand, and swiftly reclaimed the rum bottle from within his grip. He turned his head towards you at this and trailed his eyes up to yours as you placed the lip of the bottle and downed two large gulps of the liquid. You squeezed your eyes as the strong alcohol burned its way down your throat and into the pit of your belly.

He laughed at your actions, finally the forlorn expression eclipsed by glee.

“You haven’t changed,” he uttered, reaching his hand up to your hair before recoiling it back again. You watched him do this, as processing the boundary you expressed earlier still lingered within his thoughts. Instead of reaching your hair with his hand, he fell his grasp to your hands as they held the rum bottle.

“Is there truly nothing you remember of me?” He asked you, looking down to where his single hand rested upon your own. You furrow your brows and search your mind through closed eyes, willing yourself to remember any aspect about him. You hissed out a growl in frustration as you found no recollection.

“I want to,” you whispered to him, “you seem a decent kind of man, if not a little forward with the kiss and all.”

He chuckled at your comment, his laughter building to a rumble. His shoulders began to quake lightly as his laughter died and morphed into soft sobs. He attempted to conceal them from you by raising his hand up from where it rested atop his knee and turned to face away from you. You were overwhelmed slightly by this man becoming wrecked with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, bringing yourself to rest on your knees as you pulled yourself closer to him.

You opened your arms and shimmied your legs forward, hoisting them over his bent knees and found a comfortable spot on the sand to rest between them. Your arms circled his shoulders as you felt his right arm wrap beneath your waist and hook up your spine. He held his face flush with your stomach and squeezed his hand to grasp at your body as if you were to slip away at any moment. You felt his shoulders begin to relax into your embrace while inhaling your scent. You looked down the top of his head before absentmindedly bringing your lips down to place a chaste kiss against his hair. He flinched slightly at this impact, tension building in his shoulders before he slumped them forward.

You heard him sigh into your diaphragm as you did so, bringing his face away from its hidden position against you and resting his chin atop your chest to bring his sights to look up at you. For some reason, this man as he held you in an intimate proximity did not have you thrusting him away from your with excessive force as you did with so many others.

You unwrapped your left hand from around his shoulders and set it against his cheek. His youthful smile returning as you caressed him. You warmly smiled in response, feeling the gruff of his stubble against the palm of your hand before he turned his head and placed a brief kiss atop your inner hand.

“I am willing to dedicate the rest of my life to getting you to fall in love with me once again,” he whispered against your hand before turning his head to meet your gaze, “this I swear.”

Your eyes widened at the comment with a small smile toying at your mouth.

“I gather my undying devotion is overwhelming for you,” he chuckled, prompting you to move your hand away from his face and place both hands atop his shoulders.

“It is, to be perfectly candid with you,” you giggled at him, smoothing your arms over his shoulders and tracing circles against them with your thumbs, “I have tried everything to bring a small fragment of the person I once was to the forefront of my being.”

He trailed his hand from its place at the small of your back and rested it atop your left hip, grasping it firmly within his palm and kneading the flesh beneath it.

You brought your attention to the gold ring on your leather necklace as you held onto his shoulder, narrowing your eyes at the metal slightly; pleading within your own mind to bring forth any memory of the man cradling himself against you.

“To put myself in your hideous sandals,” you uttered, prompting him to quirk his head slightly to the side, “you found me, and it’s almost as if you did so only to lose me again.”

“Aye, it is,” he nodded, looking down again and meeting his eyes with the flesh of your forearm. He ghosted his lips over your left arm, dragging it higher within the crook of your elbow. Your hair follicles stood on edge under his ministrations, as he continued to not kiss your skin; but rather feel the way your body tasted below his lips.

“And you looked lovely in my highly practical sandals, last time you wore them,” he smirked his lips against your flesh before placing a kiss against it. He trailed kisses varying in intensity back down your forearm and against your wrist, prompting your breath to hitch in your throat.

That comment was it. After a variety of interpersonal and intimate words shared regarding your prior relationship with the man beneath you; it was the ugly sandals that brought a flitter of memory to grace behind your eyes. Any other comment; the hand in your hair from earlier, the wedding ring gifted by Gol D. Roger before he was executed, anything else; it was the ugly sandals he found in the run of the mill town that he purchased and, much to your horror, wore in public.

You remember taking them from his room and fleeing above deck with them in an attempt to throw them overboard to rid yourself of their ugliness forever, only to have your waist caught by your husband as he twirled you around to face the deck again with playful reprimand in the process of doing so.

At the request of your husband, you placed them on your feet and experienced the absolute comfort they bore you; almost shrieking in disgust at yourself for relishing in the feeling; as he belly-laughed at you.

“We’ll get you some at the next port” you heard his voice within your mind, “then we can be matching.”

You remembered him wiggling his eyebrows, prompting you to place your closed fist against his chest and tap him slightly.

“We can even get tiny little ones for when you relent and let me put a child in you,” you remembered his tone, causing a blush to rise presently to your cheeks.

“Something the matter, love?” Shanks' voice brought you from your singular memory and back into the present moment you were sharing so intimately with your husband.

No other memory sprang forward, only a few whispers of certain smells: sea water, spiced rum and stagnant drinking water with the natural smell men aboard a boat. You circled your arms around his shoulders and again pressed him against yourself, smothering his face against your sternum between your breasts. Your mouth fell slack as you pressed your face into his hair and inhaled the aroma of the fragrance he favoured to utilise in his red locks: sandalwood and ginger prominent with his natural scent lingering beneath it.

You began to feel a rough flurry of taps from the man beneath you as he indicated for you to release him. His laughter was unrestrained as his eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

“As happy as I am to once again have my face pressed between your breasts,” he heaved his laughter, “I do require air to sustain me.”

He brought his eyes to meet yours as you stared your eyes on the crashing waves of the beach as the tide began to come in further. Your eyes remained wide as you continued to will a semblance of recollection to come to you.

Once you offered no rebuttal at his comment, he again reached his hand up towards your hair only to halt it once more.

“What is it?” he asked you, now placing his right hand atop your left arm, holding it lovingly.

“I-,” you began, the words now halting between your lips. You brought your eyes down to look down and you continued to flitter them between each of his own.

“I-,” you again said, leaning in closer to him; prompting him to have a sense of seriousness overcome his features, “-will never own a pair of those ugly sandals.”

Immediately his seriousness fell away and his face split into a wide grin as his laughter rumbled within his chest one more.

“Yes, you always hated them. I think they’re wonderful,” he gasped while stifling his laughter. You continued to hold his shoulders as his laughter teetered off into a dull rumble.

“I tried to throw them overboard,” you uttered almost inaudibly, “and you threatened me with buying more of them.”

“You remember,” he gasped out a breathy sigh, “you remember me.”

He brought his torso up further to bring your foreheads to rest against each other. He nuzzled your nose slightly at the impact and squeezed his eyes shut with delight. He began to lean in to graze your lips with his, only to be halted by your gentle touch to bring him back.

“I don’t remember anything else aside from your disgusting sandals,” you whispered, closing your eyes before reopening them again and looking at him half-lidded, “and the way you looked at me when you suggested we begin trying for a child.”

A small gasp left his lips as a single tear fell from his right eye. Immediately he pulled your head against his further, seeking out your lips with his own. He moved his hand from its place at your hip to snake around your waist and hold you firmly against his lap. You felt him moan against your lips as you reciprocated his enthusiasm by lacing your fingers into his hair and tugging lightly at the new growth at the back of his neck.

As your proximity was so flush against one another, you had no choice but to press your full weight against him as he laid with his back against the sand; his hair sprawling out atop the course surface. He expertly maneuvered his right leg beneath yours without breaking the kiss, gasping into it as he darted his tongue out to meet with your own.

A soft whimper flung itself from your lips as he relentlessly attacked your mouth with his own; flittering deep and hungry kisses while trying to taste as much of you as he could with his tongue. You unlaced your fingers from his hair and raked them down his shoulders to his chest, massaging the hard muscle beneath them as you continued in your exploration. He gently rose his hand from its place around your waist and drew itself beneath your shirt and groaned when he felt your tender flesh beneath the material.

Placing your right hand below his cloak, you raked your fingers further along his ribcage and drew them up towards his left arm – halting your movement as you found none residing there.

You squealed into his mouth, feeling him smirk against your lips. You attempted to break from the kiss, only to feel his hand climb higher beneath your blouse and lie flat against your spine between your shoulder blades and continue passionately exploring your lips.

“Shanks,” you murmured a warning reprimand against his lips. He smiled while maintaining his lips against your own, feeling the soft pearls of his teeth as they made contact with your mouth. He continued to chase your lips each time you attempted to flee from his embrace.

You brought your hands up to ball the material of his white shirt within your fists and held him further against yourself, prompting him to let down his guard as he whimpered into your lips at your sudden domination. As soon as you felt him relinquish a small spectrum of control, you pushed hard on his collar bones and pried him from your lips. He first groaned in frustration before his body was wracked with uncontrollable laughter. He collapsed against the ground, prompting you to roll your body from above him to onto your own back in the sand as his laughter became contagious.

And as earlier, the heaving of your shoulders in fits of laughter evolved into heavy sobs from the both of you as you mourned the time lost between you.

“My bride,” Shanks called from beside you as he placed his right hand upon his eyes in an attempt to control his emotions.

“Yes, my groom,” you said as more of a whimper than an address.

He rolled over onto his side and hovered his face above yours, as the tears freely fell down the faces of the two of you; the moonlight cascading over your lover’s hair. Hesitantly, he reached his right hand up to your hair and slowly brought some loose strands from your face and wove it behind your ear. He sighed in relief as he watched you close your eyes and lean into his touch, taking your quivering lip between your teeth as you did so.

“You are as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he whispered with a slight hitch of his voice. You reopened your eyes to watch him smiling through his sorrow. You returned his expression and caressed his chest and ghosting your fingertips over his left shoulder.

“And you are one arm less than I remember,” you beamed a wide smile and giggled a little at your prod. He joined you in your laughter and pressed a chaste kiss against your hair before rising to his feet and offering you his right hand to hoist you up to meet him. You took his hand and allowed him to hoist you to your feet, before he dipped his shoulder down to make contact with your waist and lifted you over his right shoulder. He secured you in place with a crisp slap upon your left ass-cheek as he effortlessly crouched down to retrieve the forgotten, half-drunk rum bottle. He rose again to his feet and began to walk with you over his shoulder, using his teeth to uncork the rum bottle and spitting it against the sand.

“Is this quite necessary?” you asked him, mock annoyance in your tone.

He laughed and took a long swig from the rum bottle and gasped in joy as the liquid burnt its way down his throat.

“Not only is it necessary,” he called to you over his left shoulder, “it is also compulsory.” You laughed at him as he almost jigged back towards the tavern, him joining you in your laughter upon arriving at its steps and flinging open the door with his feet.

The arrival of the two of you had cheers erupting and reverberating from every corner and crevasse of the wooden building. Tankards were thrust into the air, foam sloshing carelessly from the top and onto the floor; much to the many protestations of Mary.

Shanks placed you on the floor after setting aside the bottle of rum atop a cylindrical raised bar table.

“Alright lads,” he addressed the room, “let me reintroduce you to my wife!”

He extended his right hand out for you to place your left hand within. As soon as you did so, he effortlessly spun you into him, your left arm laced over your front as he cradled you against himself.

You looked up to his face, your neck laying against his shoulder as he brought his lips down to meet your own for the first time publicly in a decade. Applause, shouts of glee and delight, more sloshing of ale and verbal reprimands from the tavern keeper echoed the hall as you smiled against the lips of your beloved. Your husband, and his bride.

#one piece #opla #x reader #shanks opla #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #one piece live action #opla fic #amnesia trope #my playlist broke me #angst #angst with a happy ending

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Jason suffers from a short bout of amnesia that puts his mind back to when he was a naive little Robin.

But when he regains his memories after a week…. He finds he doesn’t want to give up the soft, loving family that’s suddenly treating him like he’s something precious again. Doesn’t want to give up how Bruce makes every excuse under the sun to spend time with him, doesn’t want to give up Dick positively plastering himself to Jason in every waking moment, doesn’t want to give up Tim trailing after him trustingly like a tiny puppy with wide eyed wonder.

There’s no harm in pretending a little longer… right?

#prompts #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #robin #fic #Tim drake #batbros #Batdad #angst #fluff #amnesia

[loserdiaz]

got love-struck, went straight to my head

for @monsterrae1

buck/eddie | teen and up | 17.5k words

It takes a while for Eddie to realize this morning is not like the others, that there’s this wrongness thick in the air of the room. It takes a while for Eddie to realize Buck’s tense and stiff as a board in his arms and that he’s not responding to any of Eddie’s touches with the usual eagerness and earnestness as only Buck can be. “Buck, baby?” His voice comes out all croaky from the tiredness and from only just waking up. “What’s wrong?” “I’m sorry, I, uh, I don’t-” Buck stutters, crawling out of bed and getting his legs all tangled in the sheets in his haste. Eddie’s frozen in place. “I don’t, uh— Who are you?.” or: The morning of their wedding day, Buck wakes up with amnesia.

read on ao3

#amnesia au #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic #911 fic #911 fanfiction #911 fanfic #911 #911 abc #911 on abc #911 fox #911 on fox #evan buck buckley #april writes

[daffi-990]

What if …

Buck and Eddie got together days before the lightning strike and hadn’t told anyone yet (not even Chris), and when Buck wakes up he’s fine .. except he doesn’t remember that he and Eddie finally kissed and had the talk and promised each other forever.

But Eddie remembers.

Eddie remembers but Buck doesn’t and Eddie just .. he just doesn’t tell him. He’s scared and has all these feelings about the lightening and the memory loss and he talks it all out with Frank for weeks and when he’s finally ready to talk to Buck about it .. the graveyard scene happens.

So Eddie stays quiet and tries to move on. He tries with Marisol but his heart isn’t in it and so they break up and he decides to not date. To be alone because he loves Buck and will always love him. He’s his forever, even if he can’t have him the way he wants .. the way he briefly got a taste of.

And Buck is dating Natalia and things are .. fine. They get a couch and she stays over every now and then and things are fine. Except they’re not because something feels like it’s missing, and Eddie has this sadness in his eyes and Buck doesn’t know what’s wrong, and of course Eddie doesn’t want to talk about it.

And then one day Buck just remembers. He remembers everything and oh my god how could he forget?! How could he forget what Eddie tastes like? The way his eyes shone with tears of utter happiness and joy after their first kiss, their first “I love you”. How could he forget?

Cue Buck knocking on the Diaz front door at 11pm on a random Tuesday and of course it’s raining and Eddie opens the door and he looks tired but so soft and warm and like home and he says “Buck?” and Buck just starts crying.

“I remember”

And then they’re kissing and holding each other and crying but it’s okay. It’s better than okay because Buck remembers and he’s here. He’s home.

EDIT

I ended up writing this and it’s now a fully completed fic on AO3.

You can read it here 💛

#got this idea while in the gym listening to THE LIGHTENING STRIKE by Snow Patrol #buddie #fic idea #buddie ficlet #fanfic ideas #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #buck/eddie #the lightning amnesia fic

[sir-ballister-boldheart]

Fic Idea: During the knighting ceremony, the Jumbotron fell on Ballister's head. Nimona somehow manages to save him from the wreckage. But oh no, now he has amnesia and literally can't even remember who he is. But everyone claims he is a villain who killed the Queen of his country....

#nimona #amnesia au #ballister boldheart #lol #original post #nd stevenson #nimona movie #fic ideas #riz ahmed #netflix #queen valerin #lorraine toussaint #chloe grace moretz

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! i've seen you track down some pretty obscure fics and i have one ive been looking for, for years.

here's what i remember:

the OG hale pack live and move somewhere else

it starts with stiles getting in a car crash, I think, and getting amnesia

Because he doesn’t remember anything and his phone and stuff got destroyed the hales take him in??? for some reason??

Amnesia seams to be in season since a lot of town people have been getting it??

pretty sure its Derek/Stiles

as the fic goes on it learned that a local witch has been working with a rival pack to take down the hales and was amnesia-ing people as practice

spark stiles

Pretty sure that the McCall pack is still a thing and losing their minds worrying about stiles

i think it was over 30k words?

sorry if thats too broad, i'm half convinced that the fic was deleted.

thanks so much!!

Hi @iamdracula-bleh-bleh-bleh! @midnightwinterhawk says it's this one.

Nature of the Beast by Gia279

(19/19 I 56,964 I Not Rated I Sterek)

He still couldn't believe his name was Stiles.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #amnesiac stiles #amnesia #lost fic

[outtoshatter]

Fractured Starlight, featuring THIS absolutely drop-dead gorgeous art from @seanchaidh7, is now completely posted, start to finish, thanks in large part to @missanniewhimsy for giving me a little push to just post the last few chapters today!!! :D

#sterek #sterek fic #sterek art #fic #art #i still cannot stop looking at this art #amnesia fic #magic au #witch Stiles #gia writes #i am just so excited the whole thing is out there for everyone to see now!!

[muffinlance]

Welcome to the Earth Army by dandelionlily

When Zuko gets knocked out (again) during the town fight in Zuko Alone, he doesn't pop back up again. He wakes up hours later at an Earth Army camp with amnesia and enlistment forms that say his name is Li.

Thus begins the biggest headache of Captain Wu's career, which just might tip the balance of the war.

Inspired by Amnesia!Zuko Joins the Earth Army by MuffinLance.

Read on AO3

#Amnesia Zuko #gift fic #avatar the last airbender #atla #Zuko #I know what I'm queueing up in the ol' e-reader tonight <3

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics where either Louis or Harry has amnesia. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Finding Thoughts | Teen & Up | 6,810 words

"Hi, my name is Louis Tomlinson and I suffer from short term memory loss."

2) Our Love Was Made For Movie Screens. | Not Rated | 8,106 words

Harry wakes up and doesn't know anything about anything and Louis is his omega.

3) Cause I’m Really Not Fine At All | Mature | 13,679 words

Louis Tomlinson, one of the famous members of One Direction, is involved in a car accident that caused him to have amnesia, wiping all the last five years of his life from the memory. The interesting part is he may not remember that he has a girlfriend now, yet his mind seems to think that he has been in a relationship with one of the members, Harry Styles. Harry is baffled and shocked at the situation that's thrown in his face. He finds himself learning how to be a good boyfriend for Louis. It has to be easy.. right?

4) Indestructible | Explicit | 24,243 words

“Hi,” Harry murmurs, and Louis hiccups out a sob. “Hi,” he manages, still clutching onto Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s fingers drift across Louis’ cheeks, and there’s something off about Harry’s expression, but Louis can’t figure out what it is. “I’m okay,” Harry says, and Louis is going to say something to that, even if he doesn’t know what, except Harry’s kissing him. Louis freezes.

5) The Way This River Runs | Explicit | 27,417 words

Louis is provided a chance to start over. He takes it.

6) Deleted Scenes | Explicit | 33,623 words

Agent Harry Styles was injured on the job a few months back, and gets roped in one last mission before he can retire prematurely: playing house with Louis, a widower who has amnesia. The assignment seems simple at the beginning, but soon enough Harry's twisted in a web of his own making, and can't get out anymore.

7) Just A Pretty Boy | Explicit | 35,614 words

The alpha in front of him wasn’t only tall, but used every inch of his body to look even more threatening. He looked as shocked as Joseph felt, in his eyes he could clearly see horror and anger mixed into an odd and painful mix. It was as if he just watched a ghost or a monster from a nightmare come to life.  “Louis…” he said with a low voice. It wasn’t a question, he was calling Joseph by that name.  The crease between Joseph’s brows deepened. “Who?” Louis and Harry were married until, one day, Louis passed away in a tragic accident. Years later, he is found alive and with a thousand questions plaguing his mind. The most important ones; was his husband involved in his disappearance? And, how long did it take Harry and his best friend to fall in love after his supposed dead?

8) The Things I’d Do To Wake Up Next To You | Mature | 36,109 words

AU. Harry wakes up to a pregnant Louis Tomlinson and a wedding band on his finger.

9) Strangers In Love | Explicit | 42,207 words

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

10) Define Me Again | Mature | 54,385 words

He's never felt so frightened in his life before, so fucking terrified for himself. And Louis. He looked down at their hands, which seemed to have been connected throughout the incident. He looked at the ring on Louis' hand, for the nth time that day. His heart hurt so bad now, he was terrified. He wanted to do so many things, he wanted to check on louis, if he- if he- God he couldn't even think about it. "Louis," he tried to whisper, but nothing but air came out from his mouth. "I love you, Harry," whispered a voice. But it was nowhere near him. Visions attacked his mind, rapidly flickering through like one would do the pages of a book. He was terrified. His entire life literally flashed in his mind, vision growing more and more weak and he fought unconsciousness. Memories and the picture of Louis lying unconscious in front of him altered and flickered, so rapidly that he felt dizzy with how fast his mind was whirring. What happens when you die? God he was so, so, so, fucking terrified. All his senses gave out, last thing he felt was Louis' hand in his and then, everything went black.

11) Flash Back To Me | Explicit | 73,068 words | Prequel

Louis narrows his eyes, wanting more than anything to tell Liam to go fuck himself, but he can’t be sure, is the thing. As much as he knows for a fact that he would never date someone like Harry Styles, he has months missing from his memory. And it’s scary to think that, in that time, everything he’s come to know about himself could have changed so drastically.

12) Consequences | Explicit | 78,556 words

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

13) Invisible String | Explicit | 84,726 words

Louis swears on his life that that man came out of literal nowhere and he thanks each lucky star for having good breaks in his car. This strange alpha also happens to be the most beautiful being Louis has laid his eyes on. For some unknown reason, the omega feels safe around the alpha. It might seem strange, but you can't always explain why or how things are the way they are. All you can really be sure of is that they happen for a reason. There's a higher power (call it what you want) that knows better and definitely knows more than you do.

14) The Dead Of July | Explicit | 117,446 words

Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #blp fic recs #amnesia

[gintrinsic-writing]

Some Four and amnesia content for @kasanya-01 .

—

He was alive, and everything hurt.

“Whoa, easy! It’s just us, Four.”

He was alive, and every blink exacerbated the slow-blurry-tilting haze around him.

“You’re safe, I promise. Please, put the sword down.”

He was alive, and it felt like his head was going to split open.

“It’s okay! Breathe with me. Just breathe, Four. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

He was alive, and something was terribly, terribly wrong.

“Have his eyes always been so red?”

He was…

He was.

“Get away from me,” he yelped, ignoring the sting from his split lower lip. Reality began to focus. He was surrounded by strangers.

“We’re friends, Four. Allies.” The closest of the strangers raised their hands in a conciliatory manner. The callouses across their palms promised violence.

“I’m… Link,” he said, not entirely confident. The name wasn’t right, wasn’t all, but it felt better than anything else. “I don’t… know you. Stay away. Stay back!”

It worked, somewhat. So did raising his sword a little higher. They kept their distance, warier than before. Worried, even.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” the stranger with pink hair asked. Beside him stood a frightening man in armor, his magic too dark, too otherworldly, to be safe. Link took a cautious step backward, trembling in fear.

“I’m— I don’t… I don’t know?” The pain in his head was a likely hint. “I was hurt. You hurt me?”

“No,” the stranger with the fur pelt answered, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re our friend. We’d never hurt you.”

“You got hit by some curse,” the youngest of the strangers explained, anxiously picking at a loose thread on his pants. “It must’ve affected your memory.”

Link wished he could close his eyes, but weakness wasn’t an option. A curse? “What about—“ His voice cracked, so he tried again. “What about the others? Where are the others?”

The eight strangers pretended to be confused. They were almost believable. “Others?” the one with the scarf asked. “You mean the monsters? We slayed them.”

Link shook his head, regretting it when the movement made him feel queasy. “No, the others.”

“Who do you mean?”

Link wished he knew. Goddess, he wished he knew. To his dismay, tears sprung to his eyes. Being this emotional didn’t feel right. Then again, nothing did.

“Guys,” the stranger with long hair murmured, “give us some space, please.” He looked at Link with such empathy, body language loose and unthreatening. Link had to fight the urge to run forward and let himself be comforted.

“Where are they?” he whispered.

The stranger shook his head. “There were never any others. Just us.”

A lie. It had to be a lie. Link swallowed past the lump in his throat and tightened his grip. He only hoped he was brave enough to survive whatever trap this was.

#Lu four #lu red #linked universe #lu fic #gintrinsic writing #amnesia babyyyy

[theotherbuckley]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday 🫣

New WIP, hope you enjoy

The day started just like any other; Buck woke up to his alarm blaring, slapping around in his nightstand until it shut off, he forced himself out of bed, made a double shot coffee which he practically inhaled, before running out of the house, barely remembering to lock the door behind him. So the day started out like any other but now he’s in the hospital and he can’t remember why.

His head aches as he twists in the uncomfortable bed, turning to see a man sleeping in a chair pulled beside him. Buck’s not quite sure who this man is, other than that they may just be the most beautiful man that Buck has ever met. His soft brown hair is sticking out in every direction but he looks absolutely adorable. Buck’s not sure he’s supposed to have this kind of reaction to seeing a strange man in his hospital room but he’s never been one to make good decisions — he did steal a fire truck to go hook up with a girl like a month ago.

Buck groans where he lays, he’s lucky he still has his job he shouldn’t be thinking about more ways to lose it again. The noise startles the man beside him from his slumber. Deep brown eyes stare back at him. Buck swears he could get lost in them.

“Buck? Buck, you awake?” The man beside him says frantically, rising from his seat to stand over Buck.

Yeah sorry Buck’s brain has gotten a lil bit jumbled 🫣💜

Tagging the gang: @bidisasterevankinard @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark @underwaterninja13 @daffi-990 @fionaswhvre @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 @smilingbuckley @loveyouanyway @hippolotamus @incorrect9-1-1 @buckdefencesquad @actualalligator @pirrusstuff @actuallyitsellie @dangerpronebuddie @babybibuck @exhuastedpigeon @perfectlysunny02 @buddieswhvre @loserdiaz @rogerzsteven @bucksbignaturals @smallandalmosthonest let me know if you want to be added or removed

#911 abc #amnesia buck fic #911 fandom #evan buck buckley #911 buddie #buddie #911 fic #purple writes #911 fanfic #911 show #911 #tease tidbit tuesday

[draqthar]

Wish I could wipe my memory clean so I could read Tommyinnit's clinic for supervillains for the first time again

#tommyinnits clinic for supervillains #tcfsv #dsmp #dsmp fic #tommyinnit's clinic for supervillains #when is it my turn to get an amnesia arc /j #sbi fic

[daffi-990]

remember to remember me | the lightning amnesia fic | Explicit | 31K | Completed | Read on AO3

cover art by @daffi-990

Something is wrong.

“Buck”, Eddie says his name slowly, like he’s a deer that could easily be startled, “do you remember Monday night, after I got home from working a shift without you?”

“We had a few beers and you told me about that crazy call.”

“Yes. And do you remember what happened afterwards?”

“Uh — no? Should I?”

The ice in his veins spreads and soon his whole body feels frozen, like a bucket of icy water has just been dumped all over him.

“Oh shit, did I drink too much on an empty stomach again? That always leaves me way drunker than I should be and I can’t remember shit the next day”

Buck doesn’t remember.

He doesn’t remember.

Eddie’s entire world crashes down around him. He feels like his body has stopped working. He doesn’t know if he’s breathing but he’s pretty sure his heart has stopped.

Buck’s memories of them can’t be gone.

OR

Buck and Eddie finally get together only for lightning to strike a few days later, leaving Buck with no memories of them ever becoming a couple.

#buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 #911 on abc #buck x eddie #the lightning amnesia fic #daffi writes #fic: remember to remember me

[princessfanonanona]

Danny rubs his temples, silently begging the building migraine to stop.

Unfortunately, that's not how migraines work.

His parents continue their screaming argument with Mister Lancer.

At this point they're so off from the original topic that he can't even remember what set them off to begin with.

(It was how to properly ensure the students safety.)

More unfortunately, they're in front of the entire school population in the gymnasium.

"You good?" Sam stage whispers from her place on the side of the makeshift stage.

"I'd rather deal with the Observants," he hisses back.

Sam winces.

Danny hiccups on a breath of cold air, as a presence solidifies behind him.

"Good, then maybe we can-" Danny grabs the hand that's placed on his shoulder and flips the Observant over, slamming them bodily between the adults.

The ensuing silence is deafening.

"Ancients, I swear if Johnny is nearby, he's getting souped for a month." Danny mutters walking closer to the ghost.

"Danny?" Maddie asks, a little bit shocked but something like pride in her eyes.

"Nuh-uh," Danny puts his hand up. "You're not touching this one."

Jack frowns, "But it's a-"

"I don't care-"

The Observant groans, trying to sit up. He stomps on their shoulder, pinning them to the stage.

"-and you shut up, I'll deal with you in a second."

The eyeball glares at him, "I will not be treated in such a manner."

Danny pulls out his thermos, "You want to be souped?"

The Observant holds their hands up, palms out.

"That's what I thought, now you two-"

"Did you just negotiate with a ghost?" Maddie asks, a little gobsmacked.

"Yes, now you two are going to pack your weapons up into the GAV and go home."

She frowns. "This is an educational-"

"Yeah no, it stopped being educational 30 minutes ago when you started a screaming match with Mr. Lancer."

"We did not-"

"I do have to agree," Principal Ishiyama says, watching the ghost warily as she steps on stage. "It would be best if you two were to leave, this assembly has officially lost its purpose. Or we can have you forcibly removed."

Maddie glares at her while Jack frowns, gaze bouncing back and forth between the ghost and Danny.

"It's just letting you hold it down?" Jack asks.

"They're a they, not an it, and yes because they know to wait their turn." Danny says. 

The Observant makes a noise that's a cross between a huff and a growl. Danny shifts more weight onto their shoulder, wiggling the thermos. 

They fall silent. 

"Go home, or at the very least, get off the stage," he says. 

Maddie narrows her eyes behind her goggles but pulls Jack back. Her hand drifts to her pocketed gun.

"Mr. Lancer, unfortunately I think I'll be missing the rest of the school day. This has a bit of a higher priority." Danny waves a hand at the ghost.

Lancer sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ghost nonsense is not a higher priority than your education," Ishiyama states.

Danny frowns as something cold touches his shoulder. Stepping back he flips the now visible second Observant over his shoulder, slamming them into the first.

The both make a pained noise as the stage cracks.

"Sure, and more will keep showing up until this is dealt with," Danny says.

"How many more are there?" Lancer asks.

He shrugs.

He blinks, eyes shifting to the side as he feels another cold spot form.

Pivoting on his heel, he slams his leg into the next Observant, doubling them over.

"Seriously?!" Danny throws his hands up, "Can you guys chill for once in your afterlife?"

"This is of utmost urgency," the second Observant says, floating upright.

"I said I would deal with you guys in a minute."

"Technically speaking, you only told-"

Danny punches that one in the eyeball.

The three other Observants visibly wince.

"Mister Lancer, can I be excused now, please?"

"Wait, go where?" Jack asks.

"You're not going anywhere, Daniel James Fenton," Maddie draws her gun.

"Ooh you got full named," the punched Observant mocks.

"I will literally soup you where you float," Danny hisses.

"Step away from the ectoplasmic embo-"

"Or what, you gonna shoot me?" Danny snaps. He presses the heel of his hand against his temple. "Go ahead, shoot me in front of my entire school. Show everyone how you're such a caring mother."

She flinches, as if slapped.

Danny doesn't stop the next two Observants, who show up simultaneously, from grasping his shoulders.

He does, however, uncap the thermos to suck five of the Observants into it. The very first Observant remains, still laying where they were.

"Hey, George-"

"That's not my name," they cross their arms.

"And I'm not spending nine minutes to say your full name, so George, can you tell the rest of your collection to chill for five fucking minutes?" Danny rubs his temple again.

They squint up at him.

"You can have my full undivided attention in five.

"You have four minutes and 55 seconds left," they say before vanishing in a swirl of ectoplasm.

"That was some fine ghost wrangling," Jack says.

Danny pivots to face his teacher and principal. "I'm leaving with or without your permission."

Ishiyama frowns, "you will be doing no su-"

"Fine," Lancer cuts in, "But I expect you to inform us when you return. And a complete report on my desk first thing tomorrow morning."

"Report?" Danny blanches.

"Explaining whatever," he gestures to the cracked stand, "this all is."

Sam jumps onto the stage to press a bottle of pills into his hand.

"Excedrin, you better take it now before you go," she says.

Danny opens his mouth to say thanks when a portal opens under his feet.

"Oh you are getting fucking s-!"

#danny phantom #dp phic #phanfic #danny has ran out of fucks to give #bamf danny #lancer knows au #this is somewhat of a continuation of the amnesia danny fic #if you count writing the before events as continuation #did i write this whole thing cause i wanted danny to beat up some observants? yes #jack is trying to be a good parent #hes just a little confused #nona writes

[loserdiaz]

several sentence sunday 💌

tagged by the lovelies @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela @daffi-990

this is from my amnesia au!

"I can't do this." Eddie shakes his head and pushes Buck further away as he shifts and and sits up straighter, with his back against the bed frame, the sheets pooling around his waist as he goes. "Not when you don't— You don't remember anything and it just feels wrong."

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a few seconds.

He feels Buck moving beside him, hears the little rustle of the blankets as the man straightens up.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I got a little carried away." Buck clears his throat and Eddie's eyes flutter open, his arm falling to the side as he just stares at this— stranger that's on his bed.

Buck tilts his head and gives him a breathless, sheepish crooked smile. "I'm a sex addict?" He says as if looking for an excuse to be absolved of whatever that was, a poor attempt at trying to dissipate the tension that's now choking them.

Eddie raises an eyebrow and gives him an unimpressed, unamused look.

"Self-diagnosed." Buck says and Eddie scoffs and snorts.

"You're unbelievable."

"Listen, dude. Sex is sex and you're like, stupidly and annoyingly hot." Buck says blunty. "Can you really blame me?"

His skin still feels too hot and there's this buzzing underneath, like a beehive has made a home of his insides.

"Look, I know neither of us knows how to handle this or what we should do," Eddie sighs as he looks for some clothes. "But we need some ground rules."

"Bossy," Buck smirks, still from his place in bed. "I like it."

Eddie fixes him with a stare and points a finger at him, "No more of—" He makes a vague gesture towards Buck and then to the sheets all in a tangled mess on bed. "That. At least not for a while."

tagging @hoodie-buck @buddierights @rogerzsteven @bigfootsmom @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @father-salmon @devirnis @wildlife4life @barbiediaz @buckaroosheart @jesuisici33 @evanbegins @steadfastsaturnsrings @fortheloveofbuddie @athenagranted @malewifediaz @weewootruck @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck

#amnesia au #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #buddie wip #my wips #my writing #seven sentence sunday #911 fic #911 wip #911 abc #911 on abc