#After she passed it was given to me and I have it in a box with all of my family photos

[kbwrites]

“Who did this to you?” A deep voice echoes, vibrating around the walls of the throne room. On the opulent throne sits the owner of the baritone voice — Ryomen Sukuna. The king of curses, resting his head on his arm as he looks down at you, too scared to look up from your feet.

“I don’t like repeating myself.” He warns, your body hasn’t ceased shaking. Your uniform is tattered, the rips in the fabric revealing deep purple bruises. Uraume was the one that found you, unconscious in the butlers pantry. After waking you up they brought you to the throne room. So there you were, kneeling at the feet of your king.

You arrived to the estate a year ago, your life as a servant was agreeable. Lord Sukuna treated all his servants well. You were loyal, efficient and pleasant to look at, it was only a matter of time before he started to notice you.

At first he requested you be the one to serve him breakfast. Then it became lunch, and suddenly you tended to all his meals. He demanded you for everything, his bathing, dressing. He could do all of these things himself of course, but he prefered your gentle hands. His personal attendant, not even Uraume, had seen the king of curses at his most vulnerable... but you had bared witness to all of him.

“Fine, if you won’t tell me who. Then why?” Ryomen slowly rises from his throne, his looming figure towering over your kneeling body. He lowers himself to your level, one hand reaches down to lift your chin. Firm yet gentle he forces you to look up at him, your eyes meeting his red ones. Your once flawless skin is covered in bruises. His eyes darken.

“They t-think you favor me.” Is all you can manage to get out.

Word spreads around the estate of course. And plus Sukuna didn’t exactly hide his preference for you. You didn’t sleep with the rest of the help, you were given a room connected to his. ‘In case he requested your presence in the night’ but the reality was he slept better knowing you were near. You didn’t eat the servant food, you dined in the great hall. At a separate table he had made for you. All of these things on full display for the others to see, it wasn’t long before the insults started. At first it was the odd ‘slut’ or ‘whore’ being mumbled in passing. Then an accidental shove into the wall, always followed by a curt “sorry”.

But today? It was your birthday. You had only mentioned it to Ryomen in passing one day at breakfast. He never understood the need for such a useless celebration. You went about your duties for the day, when Uraume found you and handed you a small box. And there on display for everyone to see, a beautiful beaded bracelet made from polished cherry wood. A token of appreciation ‘for your hard work’.

A gift from the king of curses.

“What’s so great about you anyway?”

“Lord Sukuna’s bed-warmer gets everything she wants!”

They punched and kicked, throwing you into the pantry. The group of servants you once thought of as your family. Clouded by jealousy, hatred towards you — the lord’s favorite.

Ryomen Sukuna, the epitome of ruthlessness and malevolence, softens his gaze. He looks upon your trembling form with… pity? His moment of weakness is replaced by an unreadable expression.

“You have been relieved of your servant duties. You will stay here in my quarters from here on out.” It’s a demand, leaving no room for objection. Your eyes well up with tears looking up at your king, his other hand wipes them away. He rises, walking towards the door, his back facing you.

“Get up. Uraume will tend to your injuries. Once you are well, we will visit the servant’s quarters. You will point out those who laid their filthy hands on you, and I will kill them.”

part 2 out now!!

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[wileys-russo]

the summer tenant (1) II j.hermoso

its missing jenni hours, little mini series incoming the summer tenant (1) II j.hermoso

"sí sí sí i am forever in your debt león. happy?" you laughed, phone wedged between your ear and shoulder as you weighed your carry on, breathing a sigh of relief when it didn't breach the limit for your flight.

"i will be happy when you finally come home!" your best friend whined making you roll your eyes. "my ass is on its way maría, and tu culo better pick me up later!" you warned, muting her for a moment as you stepped up to the front desk and gave your details, boarding pass printed and handed over.

"no i am not thanking you, i was getting my boarding pass. my stuff is all accounted for sí? it arrived safely?" you frowned in worry, this entire process having been anything but smooth.

"sí amiga, just like i told you yesterday and every other day you've asked everything is in boxes ready to be unpacked once you move, and there is just a few things and files and boxes still in storage at your old place in the garage." mapi promised as you exhaled, hovering by the security check knowing you'd need to hang up before going through, promising mapi to call her the moment you landed before ending the call.

you'd grown up in zaragoza, a few houses down from the dirty blonde you'd been practically attached to like a siamese twin almost your whole life. as you got older you'd moved to madrid to go to university, and then to barcelona for better career opportunities once you graduated.

though for the last three years you'd been living in portugal, a dream job when it arose far too tempting to pass as much as it hurt you to move away from your life, friends and family all still scattered around spain.

you of course returned home to visit but once you'd fallen in love the visits had been few and far between, your life becoming split in two as you had anchors tying you down in either country, admittedly maybe allowing the one in portugal a little too much influence.

which is why it hurt so much when that anchor was suddenly cut loose, almost drowning you in the aftermath of what you'd describe as your first real heartbreak.

so licking your wounds you found yourself with a choice, to stay and soldier through the tattered remains of your life in portugal or retreat back to spain with your tail between your legs and into the arms of the rest of your support circle.

the choice was one you probably made a little too fast once your best friend sweet talked the right people and popped up on her weekend off with a job offer and a plan, more than ready to drag you back home.

it hadn't been the easiest of processes, you'd given your two weeks in at your job which turned into four and then into six so you could adequately train your replacement and smoothly handover your client list.

right after the breakup mapi had convinced you to let her rent out your old place in barcelona for some extra income while you weren't sure how long you'd still be in portugal, your now ex quite the well respected lawyer meant you'd come off with much less than you deserved in assets after the split.

you were crashing with a coworker and slowly shipping your belongings home to meet you whenever you could finally leave all this mess behind you.

though really your old place was too large for just you and though you were returning home you wanted a fresh start which meant a new place, mapi offering for you to stay with her while you searched for the right one.

between her and her girlfriend they technically had an apartment each in the same building, though they spent majority of their time in ingrids which was set up best, mapi's used more as a storage locker which is why she was more than happy to let you stay there temporarily.

and with all sorts of tourists flocking to the warm beaches of barcelona for the summer it made sense that you wring out a little extra money from your old place before putting it on the market.

so now finally free from all that tied you to portugal bar a few friendships you suspected may eventually die out with the distance, and almost all of your belongings safely back in spain, it was time for you to join them.

"estás bromeando." you snickered in disbelief as you exited the terminal, spotting the sign and balloons right away and praying they weren't for you. but of course knowing your family, no such luck.

"i am suddenly wishing i lied about which flight i took." you called out with a shake of your head, a cheeky grin and a blur of tattoos and tan skin darting in front of you before a body was slamming you nearly to the ground.

"hola amiga." you exhaled happily, squeezing the footballer just as tightly as you gave her girlfriend a wave who was hanging back with a smile. "mejor amiga." mapi corrected, pulling away and sloppily kissing your cheek making you grimace and push her away.

"you drove all the way here to pick me up? i told you i could come see you on the weekend!" you laughed at your parents, knowing it was almost a four hour journey from your childhood home where they still lived to the airport they were stood in now.

"it has been many years we have prayed for this day hija, let us enjoy it." your mami smiled warmly as you hugged them both next, exhaling happily at the rapid spanish which floated around the air.

you greeted ingrid next, having met the girl many times despite no longer living here, often teasing your best friend that should they break up you'd actually take ingrids side since she was so lovely, but really you adored seeing her so loved up and well treated by the norweigan.

"welcome home from prison? maría!" you groaned, the defender hiding behind her girlfriend making both yours and ingrids eyes roll. "it was his idea!" her finger reached around and pointed to your papi who shrugged with a smile that said it all.

~

"and you told her i was coming to grab some things?" you clarified with mapi who hummed in confirmation. the footballer had been doing the majority of the communication with your tenant in your old place considering until now you'd been in another country and she had set the whole thing up anyway.

you'd tried to offer her some money for all of her help which all that earned you was a firm punch to the arm and a warning not to be stupid, reminding you that family always helps family and doesn't expect anything in return.

"sí sí she said she wouldn't be home anyway, and you are only needing to access the garage so you will not be entering the house." mapi assured as you nodded, telling her to text you what she wanted you to grab from the market on your way back before ending the call.

stupidly mislabeling a few boxes had meant you were missing a large amount of clothing, and though both ingrid and mapi assured you were free to wear anything of theirs you already felt like you were asking too much of them staying with them anyway.

besides a lot of your more work appropriate clothes were what was missing and due to start this new role in a few days time and anything but a patient woman you were quite eager to get your ducks in a line.

"oh come on!" you grunted, having twisted the key in the garage door but struggling to pull it open, something that had pained you for years. a waterfall of curse words fell from your lips as your frustration grew and you strained to tug it open, hope fasting fading.

"you know robbers do not usually make so much noise?" you jumped at a voice behind you, dropping the door and spinning around with a startled expression.

"lo siento. i am not a robber, i am-" you tried to explain but the taller girl waved off your words. "the owner, sí? i spoke to mapi this morning." she smiled charmingly, pearly white teeth bared in amusement.

"i am jenni, your tenant." she added on with a grin holding out a heavily tattooed hand as you nodded in understanding and properly introduced yourself. "trouble with the door? there is a trick." she held up a finger and nodding for you to move aside.

you frowned curiously but did as she asked, watching as she twisted the key and popped her shoulder into the door, your eyebrows shooting up nearly as fast as the door was opened. "fácil!" she winked and gestured inside.

"i lived here for nearly five years and-" you mumbled with an annoyed huff. "-and i live here for a few weeks and know all the tricks." jenni laughed, hovering just outside as you squatted down and began to move through boxes.

"something like that." you sent her a smile over your shoulder. "i promise i will get everything out soon, my car is still in portugal and its the last thing to come back and-" you stopped yourself realizing a complete stranger would be the last person to care.

"and i do not need to be wasting more of your time, lo siento." you shook your head, finding the box you needed and tugging it up and out. "no need to apologise. you are from barcelona?" jenni asked curiously as you shook your head.

"zaragoza, but i have been living in portugal for the last few years." you answered with a polite smile. "mm then how did you end up with a house in barcelona?" jenni questioned, lips curled upward and eyes scanning you up and down.

"my mami taught me not to talk to strangers." you teased making her laugh. "so did mine but here i am letting one into my garage." jenni pointed out as you now laughed. "my garage, technically." you shrugged, noticing a large motorcycle in the corner of the garage.

"pulling the landlord card querida? vale vale. well i have paperwork we both signed though that says for another four and a half months it is my garage." jenni reminded with a grin to which you couldn't argue.

"do you ride?" you asked nodding curiously toward the bike. "what happened to not talking to strangers? i cannot ask how you ended up in barcelona but you can ask me about my bike?" jenni gasped mockingly as you rolled your eyes.

"well you just answered my question anyway." you smiled picking up the box of clothes and moving back outside as jenni effortlessly reached up and grabbed the roller door to bring it back down, something you needed a ladder for which was oddly attractive.

jenni herself was quite attractive, the way her bright eyes followed you and rose pink links curved into an alluring smile, not to mention each of her long limbs covered in even more tattoos than mapi as she was wearing only a pair of shorts and a plain white oversized shirt.

you opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by a second stranger who came storming out of the house, flipping the girl in front of you off and practically diving into a car speeding away making you frown as the other girl in front of you rolled her eyes.

"friend of yours?" you asked with a raised eyebrow as jenni shrugged. "something like that. would you like to come in for a drink?" the abruptness of her question catching you off guard as you opened and closed your mouth.

"i don't think-" you started, placing down the box as jenni cut you off. "you know if you have a drink with me, i will not be a stranger anymore. didn't your mami also teach you about manners and hospitality?" jenni challenged making you scoff but smile.

"my plans for the evening just ditched me, i already started dinner. it is rude to make someone eat and drink alone you know!" jenni tutted, stepping forward and picking up the box for you before you could protest.

"vamos, i promise i am a good cook and an even better host."

~

and as you woke up that next morning in a bedroom both familiar and unfamiliar, you knew her words to be true.

you could smell coffee as you rubbed your eyes and sat up, you heard the door open and tugged the covers up to hide your naked chest, jenni strolling in with a steaming mug.

"how did you know?" you smiled, always starting your day with coffee as the taller girl gave you an add look. "how did i know i wanted coffee?" she chuckled taking a sip as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your assumption.

"what time is it?" you asked with a stretch, bending down and snaking your shirt from the floor, slipping it over your head. "eleven, you really slept in." jenni hummed, leaning against the doorframe as bright green eyes drunk you in.

"sorry." you chuckled, completely missing the slightly awkward silence in the air as jenni stepped forward. "your box of stuff is by the door, get dressed and you should go." the girl shrugged, turning on heel and heading out of the room as your mouth opened in shock.

none the less you hurried to collect your clothes, pulling them on and following after her.

"you know landlords should not really sleep with tenants." jenni tutted with a smirk, pulling herself up and onto the counter as you forced your eyes not to roam her half naked body, flashes of last night where it was pressed against you flickering through your mind.

you scoffed and crossed your arms, opening your mouth to let her have it but she spoke first. "whats wrong bebé? not the normal coffee and breakfast waiting for you afterwards that you are used to? i am not that type of girl." jenni chuckled sipping from her mug.

"but last night we talked about so many things and-" "had sex? sí, and we both got something out of that no? now you should really go, technically a landlord cannot be here without the tenants permission." jenni smirked as you could only scoff.

not gracing her with another word you turned on heel and headed for the front door, hearing her footsteps pad after you as you made a swift exit. you paused as you heard a sharp whistle, slowly turning around.

"did you just whistle at me like a dog?" you asked in disbelief crossing your arms and making her chuckle where she leaned against the door. "you forgot your box." she nodded downward at her feet as you stiffened, swallowing your pride and making your way back toward her.

you glared at her as she simply smiled charmingly, sipping at her coffee as you picked up the box and turned again, storming down the path.

though a second wind brewing as you reached the end you shook your head, spinning to give her a piece of your mind but it was too late, the front door already clicking closed as you heard the turn of the lock.

"puta."

[skeltnwrites]

Summary: You are there for Steve when he has to face his fear of needles. | 1.1k

TW: needles, medical anxiety, panic attacks, bf steve

A/N: this is based on true events 🥲 also you cannot convince me he doesn't have anxiety about this after rewatching that scene where he is literally stabbed in the neck with a needle

This is the first time Steve’s ever let you drive his car. Not because he doesn’t trust you with it but because he’s happy to be your chauffeur for as long as you let him. He’s always one to refuse when you offer, to grab the keys before you even think about it. He’s a gentleman at heart, even if part of him just likes to drive. But today is different. 

Steve’s practically buzzing in the passenger seat, snapping his foot against the floor mat like a rubberband and tapping his fingers where they are crossed over his arm. And he’s silent, which is weird because he’s always been the type of nervous to not be able to shut up. 

You wrap a hand around his knee, thumb caressing denim. He doesn’t acknowledge it like he normally would, gaze trained on the windshield. His eyes are glazed over like he’s somewhere else entirely. You have to call his name twice before he hums. 

“Wanna get ice cream after?” 

You barely catch his nod.

You’re grasping for anything to get him out of his head but he refuses to talk to you regardless of topic. He’s been more obliging during arguments. 

It’s not surprising that he’s anxious today, you expected it. He’s always been hesitant about doctors and only goes if he absolutely has to. But lately, this hesitation has transformed more into refusal, regardless of reason. This appointment specifically, a checkup and routine bloodwork, has been an ongoing battle with Steve for months. After his dad had a health scare, it was recommended Steve be seen to rule out anything preemptively. You’d given Steve every opportunity to schedule it himself like he claimed he would, but weeks turned into months of procrastination so you eventually phoned the doctor's office. 

Steve stalls in the parking lot. You’d turned the car off nearly ten minutes ago but he’s had to fix his hair twice, retie his shoes, and he even pretended to search for something in the glove box. You’ve been patient, but with only two minutes left until his appointment, you circle around to his side, gently guiding him out of the car. Before he can protest or claim he forgot something, you quickly lock the door behind him.

“Name?” The middle-aged woman at the front desk asks. 

“Steve,” his voice shakes so he clears his throat.  

She pops the wad of gum she was blowing, bemused at your boyfriend. “Steve…?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You swipe a hand across his back, finishing, “Harrington. Steven Harrington.” 

She turns to her computer and begins typing lazily. 

“Oh,” he nods. 

She hands him a clipboard and pen, “Fill this out.”

You lean over the arm of his chair as he writes. His hands tremble around the pen and he stops to scribble out where he wrote his birthday incorrectly. You offer to do it for him but he declines. 

“Steven?” A nurse calls from the other side of the room where she’s propped a door open with her foot. You’re thankful for the short wait so Steve didn’t torture himself for long in the lobby. 

Steve doesn’t move so you squeeze the hand you’re holding, “Ready?”

He neglects to answer you but stands. You release his hand, collecting the clipboard and your things. Steve turns around, frowning and wide-eyed. “Are you coming?” 

“Yeah, baby. Do you want me to?”

He nods as you pass him his papers.

The nurse guides you down the hall, obtaining Steve’s height and weight before reaching a small room smelling of antiseptics. She takes his blood pressure, listens to his heartbeat, and jots down notes on the clipboard throughout. Steve’s breathing shallowly and staring at the floor as she works, focused on holding it together. 

When she leaves to grab the phlebotomist, Steve lets out a staggered exhale and whispers, “I really hate this.” His eyes join yours for the first time that morning, all warm and honeyed. 

You climb onto the paper sheet beside him, sealing his palm between both of yours. “I know, babe. You’re doing so good. Almost done.” 

He cranes over until his forehead meets your neck, eyelashes tickling your skin. You lean into him, planting a kiss on the nearest strip of skin. 

There’s a knock before the door swings open. A new face in the same scrubs. This one is all smiles, however, and chatting up a storm before she even sets her things down. 

Steve sprawls up slowly, eyeing the woman’s caddy as she rambles. 

She familiarizes herself with his chart before getting to work– washing her hands, ripping open the needle packaging, brushing a disinfectant wipe across his skin. It's all happening so fast. Steve’s breath picks up and his eyes dart away to the bland wall beside him. The nurse notices but doesn’t address his fear. She instead tries to distract him, asking him about how you guys met. 

A few words will find his tongue before he’s cut off by a series of gasps. He’s trying so hard to speak but his thoughts keep spilling out in a scrambled mess and that terrifies him even more. It terrifies you too– you’ve never seen him so scared. 

Steve gets a glimpse of the long needle near his arm and flinches away from her fingers. You’re pressing his face into the slope of your neck with your free hand because he keeps trying to watch what she’s doing.

“I need you to stay still, okay, hun? I’ll be so quick, I promise,” the nurse encourages. 

But as soon as her grip on his arm tightens, locking it against the table, he’s losing it. Fat tears are dribbling down his red cheeks and falling onto his lap where you’re clutching his hand. His chest convulses with shallow, uneven breaths, his muscles tensing under the strain of trying to keep his arm still. The needle slides in, and for a moment, his whole body stiffens, but she successfully finds the vein with a single poke and starts draining the blood into a vial.

Gradually, his breath starts to even out as he realizes the worst is behind him. Your fingers weave through his hairline and soothing words are whispered into his skin. A few final hiccups escape into your tear-stained collar.

“All done,” she’s patching him up with a cotton pad and tape and even you’re surprised at how quick it was. 

Steve tilts in your embrace to see the damage, unleashing a shuddered sigh. The nurse smiles at him and he offers a wobbly one back. 

Over a bowl of his favorite ice cream, he hesitantly opens up about his fear, recounting his traumatic experience with a Russian doctor. His words are thick with the weight of the painful memory and anxiety lingers through the tremble in his voice. No matter how many questions you have or how much you wish you could take away the experience, you know the best thing you can do is listen and praise him for his bravery.

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl

A Homelander X F! Reader fanfic

A/N: I am still working on my other projects but I just wanted to write something fun and light to get me back into writing. I hope y'all enjoy this short little piece, btw i aint got no kids so i have very little idea how milk banks work, this will be a 2 or 3 part story.

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

Word Count: 3K

Part 1– Heifer

Such a small box, smaller than a shoe box, just big enough to fit its contents with enough space for his ghost to move. You stared at the small box as its buried in the family plot… you never thought of visiting this place to ever bury the last shred of happiness you had left, his body was born weak, so small you wonder if you’d given birth to a child or a chick, 2 months ago you had come home to find your now ex in bed with his ex, he had turned this betrayal on its head and blamed you for it, something about your lack of desire lately, about how your pregnancy had given him amounts of pressures he'd never agreed with, talking endlessly about his needs and how much you’d ignored him.

Whoever this man was, you didn’t recognize him.

Time blurred into nothing but disconnected colors and shapes, all you know was that the stress and anguish lead to this.

A box under soil.

Days passed and in your empty apartment, surrounded by all the stuff you bought you stood in front of the sink, throwing a bottle of fresh milk down the drain feeling tremendous guilt, the doctor said you would dry out soon enough but your breast had swollen so much your bras no longer fit– even the spare ones you bought just in case they’ve grown a size too big from what you expected, you booked an appointment with your doctor hoping they could give you whatever cocktail of drugs to dry you out and save you from the pressure and pain in your chest, it had been nothing but a passing message from a worried neighbor who had stop by to give you some mail that had been sent to them by accident when she mentioned her daughter-in-law had donated her excess milk after her little one refused to latch, she gave you the name of the charity and after much thinking you gave in, you lost your baby but there was some woman out there who could end up experiencing your same grief if their baby starved to death, yours simply born too small and weak to hold your finger for very long.

It felt good, you met the women running the charity and even some of the faces of the women you helped, as you delivered your frozen packs to the women’s clinic where the charity operated, it helped you heal, it gave your pain purpose, but as the months faded behind you a part of you worried about how much you keep producing, less than before but still too much, yet you keep going knowing it would end soon enough. 

Perhaps somebody in the clinic or the charity had dropped your information to these people but you'd received some mail regarding some research trials Vought International was running and how they needed some donors to drop fresh samples, in their pamphlet they offered to pay a decent amount--your divorce had been costly plus having to move to a new place and breaking your previous lease had left your bank account quite dry, this was cheap money, you had given your milk for free, you looked at the few pouches you had collected for next week's drop you saw a wonderful opportunity to make some quick cash.

You went to the Vought Clinic and saw a few other women filling up forms, reading old magazines or dilly-dallying on their phones until some nurse called their numbers, you filled the medical form, waited less than half an hour before your number was called, brought into a small bleach scented room, the nurse read your form and told you she would take a blood sample, a doctor came in, reciting whatever script he’d been given about what this project was, giving you big words you had no interest in, this was about providing better milk formulas closer to natural milk than anything currently in the market apparently, thanking you for your donation, he looked at your form smiling as he saw your inked words.

“You're still producing 4 months after…” The doctor handed you a disinfecting wipe and a freshly steamed breast pump in a silver tray– we just need two samples, please press the alarm to let us know you’d finished, then follow Nurse Potts to the front counter to sort out your payment.”

It had been an awkward experience, but there you were 300 dollars richer, you probably should’ve read those papers a bit closer before signing but money was money and you were told to come back if you could.

You did it a couple times for 2 months, much like a man donating sperm for pocket money or plasma to pay the rent.

That was the first mistake, you headed home and woke up the morning after wishing you had stayed out for an extra hour or two, perhaps caved in to your friends pressures and tried going back to dating (after all your ex was whoring himself all across the lower east side without moral qualms) or hookups so you would had gone to a different address, maybe you should had taken a taxi instead of taking the train and walking home.

Regardless you woke in some strange empty room, the only thing beside your person was a pair of pale pink hospital gowns, grippy socks, clean underwear and a pair of thick large towels, you screamed and banged on the door for an ungodly amount of time but nobody ever came, you stayed alone in that room for what could have been 12 hours or more… maybe less… who knew it was all too much, suddenly a sharp sound cut into the silence a note had been slid under the door, you rushed to the note.

It was instructions, they wanted you wearing their clean clothes, you could not leave the room unless you did so, and as much as you hated the idea, you wanted to get out so badly, you knew if you wanted to escape your only chance came in knowing your surroundings, you begrudgingly and tearfully changed, waiting until anything changed– the doors hissed opened, a woman in a sharp cream coloured suit stood there with clipboard and an armed guard, at the sight of the heavy looking gun– you froze.

Then you took the first step towards hell.

You knew the following things: You lived in some basement area– there were no windows, only elevators. You weren’t alone, there were other women here and they made sure to keep your interactions at minimum no doubt to keep all of you submissive and not getting any ideas, sometimes familiar faces will fade and you could only speculate nightmares. Lastly… your purpose, the reason you were trapped here in the first place was… to lactate.

A plucky little thing that stayed optimistic despite your shared horror called herself a ‘Heifer’ she wasn’t wrong… you lived in a small cell where everything had sat on top of each other feed to keep fat and producing milk much like a cow, whoever developed this diet knew of all the ingredients known to help production, and you knew there were putting something else in the food for your breast begun to feel uncomfortable, for a little while you thought you could fight it by starving yourself, then two men with guns came into the room and told you to eat or else.

The time you spend outside this microflat hong-kong style cell was in the milking room and the shower room, you were ordered to stay clean and quiet, at least in the milking room you had some television and could spend time with the other women, but they keep you isolated, you could do very little, sometimes music would play and a book would be dropped with your food but your happiness wasn’t priority, you had to fill a quota.

After a couple weeks of this you simply accepted defeat, too many guns… not enough spaces to run, and nothing to come home to… a man that wanted to sue you for more feeling as if the judge had been unfair, a pestering family who acted as if they had been the only ones who experience loss, an empty cot you still hadn’t gotten rid off and piles and piles of bills, in this quiet cool room you had spend endless hours thinking, you didn’t love your job, you had been distant from most of your friends and you could only imagine that they assumed you had run away or killed yourself after what happened nobody could blame you.

Existing for the sake of existing until you could figure out what to do next.

“Good Evening… I’m glad you’re eating so well” The lady you met the first day said as the door hissed open, she watched you like a hawk as you process this sudden interruption, clutching at your paper thin blanket, you looked at the floral fabric in her arms and the clipboard under her arm– I need you to sign this before you’re allowed upstairs”

“Am I being let out?” You said anxiously, no way it could be that easy you thought.

The lady let her smile waiver, looking at the unseen guard then at her wrist watch as she handed you the clipboard.

“Your performance might determine how soon you'll be release…”

“You assume I won’t go to the police…”

“That wouldn’t be wise Miss L/N but we assure you that you’ll be sufficiently compensated for the inconvenience.”

You wanted to yell, but a voice in the back of your head thought of this but nothing but pageantry, you were dead either way, but perhaps this could be your opportunity to escape, whatever they wanted to do now meant being outside of these buried walls, you signed the sheet without thinking, briefly considered stabbing the bitch in the eye but is likely they would turn you into swiss cheese before you even took a step too close, she took the paperwork from your hands and in change handed you a long sleeved dressed straight out of the mormon section in target, she closed the door and you dressed up.

The halls looked so odd when you didn’t wear your prison clothes, the other few doors housed sleeping and bored girls, your plucky friend hidden behind one of them, the new girl hidden behind one of them and the girl you seen before in the milking room once hid behind one of them.

They took you to an elevator– it was old box, if you had to guess by the button’s design maybe built in the late or mid 70s, you never left their side until the elevator closed before them, the box moved slowly, a dingy silver box with low honey coloured lights, so dim… and you were alone, as the light chime as it went up you felt your entire being sink into your stomach, your heart beating so fast you were sure you were gonna have a heart attack before the doors opened once again, swallowing dry spit, your eyes opened so wide it hurt.

Quiet… it was so quiet when the doors opened, you expected something else, something menacing… something frightening– not an old house, an old house in the middle of some evergreen forest, everything screams old, untouched, museum like, like it's meant to present this idea that somebody lives here but not really, despite it being an elevator hidden behind a bookcase, you take a few cautious steps, your naked feet bury in the plush carpet, there’s bird singing outside and the sun is so bright and warm it hurts your eyes, the cool tones gone and this feels like a bad dream, pinching yourself but you’re awake, tragically awake, a weird wiry smile creeps on your lips, an almost laugh escapes your lips before you can feel tears burning your eyes.

“Hello…?” You ask and you don’t know why.

As you venture into the living room, hands firm against the tacky dark pink wallpaper, you found old floral couches that matched the drapes and despite how old school it was it had a charm to it.

Then you saw him.

Perusing the VHS collection filled the entire bookcase on the wall, just rows and rows of VHS boxes, some plastic and some cardboard, the TV boxy and just as antiquated but who cared— he was there.

You ran before you even realized you done it, crashing into him with desperation, tears staining your cheeks and you could barely breath as you tried so hard to speak.

“Homelander please help me!! I’ve been kidnapped!! Please!!” You cried, pulling on his suit– please!!”

Those endlessly blue eyes more poison dart hide than veronica flower bush the more they stared at you calmly, his lips into a thin smile and his hand thad taken your wrist inflicting just enough force to keep you firmly in his grip… to show you how he wasn’t an ordinary man, he looked at you as your tears changed meaning as if you were the most unfortunate creature he’d ever seen, his lips parted just enough to show those sharp canines that had looked so charming in sidewalk posters, now you could sense their presence squeezing at your jugular.

“You are so much prettier in person, Y/N.” His voice is disturbingly soft and calm, intimately quiet as he takes a whiff of your neck, moving you to make it easier, his free hand creeped towards your hip– I was so glad when I saw your picture and you weren’t hideous.”

Trembling against him, a nonexistent cold draft blew against you, your whole body shivering and covered in goosebumps.

His eyes fixated in your breast, mouth agape as his tongue dared to lick his lip, watching you like a starved man at a las vegas buffet, his hand slithering upwards, you know where this is leading, you can’t stop crying but you can’t scream either, you're just there as his hand avoids your breasts and creeps towards your back and presses your bodies together.

“I’m so glad you signed that sheet, I was getting sad endlessly waiting for one of you to agree to the deal” He says quietly, you stare at him and you realize you should’ve actually read that stupid sheet– why so scared? I ain’t gonna bite.” He bites the air as a joke and you could tell that that single bite could have torn your finger off cleanly.

His eyes shift to your clinging fingers that stayed so stiff against his padded suit, you stopped squeezing at him now they rested limp against him.

“Let’s watch a movie…” 

It’s an awkward dance concluding in sitting down on a couch, its surprisingly soft and you’re sinking on the cushion while your mind dissolved in the sky, the coffee table had a humbled spread of snacks, pizza and milkshakes, not once did you notice, you stared at him clutching at your dress as he picked something out of the shelve, watching as his hand worked the VHS player, the clicks and whirling all you could focus on. He sat beside you as the speakers began to play the included trailers, he took the drink urging you to do the same with a menacing look, filling you with incomplete thoughts as you obeyed.

Malt vanilla marinated in your tongue, you had a terrible thought.

‘Milk’ 

You were there to provide milk… to whom? Why just milk? You thought they would sell your body or your organs, experiment on you but… they wanted your milk, but who was buying it? Who was drinking it? Where did it go? You stared at the pretty blond whose arm kept your shoulders still, you saw the news– you’d known he had a child and who knows with whom but his kid was old enough to not need it… was it for him? You thought… thinking of it as ridiculous until you remember how 20 minutes ago  he was staring at your tits as if he was malnourished, you looked at his lips pursing as he took a long sip of his milkshake and wonder if that was milk… from a cow… not a heifer like you.

Homelander smiled at you.

“I don’t like ‘The mothman prophecy’ , never been a Richard Gere fan” he said casually.

“He was really good in ‘Pretty Woman’ . This one is okay…” You looked at the screen your voice so stiff– what’s going on…? Mr. Homelander… I…"

“Shhh… watch the movie” He leaned against you resting his head on your shoulder– you tasted the best… every batch perfection– such delicate custardy taste… So this is what we are gonna do… I’ll keep you in this floor so you’re not so bored ."

You swear he’s purring as he rubs himself against you marking you as much as he was making himself comfortable.

“There’s cameras everywhere… The glass is bulletproof, doors won’t open without a fob and code, and there’s no phones or internet, but if you do manage to get out of here just be aware I’ll know.” He said such terrible things as if it was nothing– if you tried to off yourself there will be 3 armed guards and nurses here in less than a minute but if you behave I promise you– you’ll be allowed out, but only if you gain my trust.” He looks up at you as you focus on those thin lips of his– there’s no kitchen but your meals will be delivered… if you want anything just tell the camera over there.”

He pointed at the corner tucked in between two VHS tapes was a small camera.

“I like you Y/N you're cute… you’ll behave for me, right?”

You nodded, too afraid to disagree.

“Now… let’s finish the movie… I actually like this part”

You stared at the pizza box, you could at least tell that the pizza was from an american restaurant, which made you feel safe ‘Select Pizza and Grill” said in the box and you knew you were somewhere in Pennsylvania, far from your apartment in Clinton Hill.

You looked at your boobs feeling his piercing gaze on them, you started drawing lines connecting weird things together, back when you were donating your milk, girls joked about people buying for medicinal and fetish purposes, this spelled itself out for you.

Maybe you could get out of here… but you had to do something weird… but as you heard the birds outside and the warm light peeked into the room, you realized maybe you could leave… no you’ll leave, you’ll go back home and you would find a way to ruin this man and those bastards beneath you, you’ll get them out too, so you took one courageous breath and forced a smile on your dried lips.

“You really liked it?”

“Huh?”

“My milk…” You mumbled– you know I never tasted it myself but am glad to get a review.”

“It’s really tasty” he bites his lip.

Your hand plays with one of the buttons on the dress.

“It hurts a bit… I usually get asked to pump around this time… dunno if you know this but it's a bit painful when they get this swollen.”

The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know and as you leaned away from him pulling on buttons with slightly trembling fingers, you watched him follow your movements like a snake chasing prey.

“Would you help me out, mister superhero?” Is not flirty but is slightly playful and you’re surprised that you can lie that well, he’s so shameless as he shakes his head enthusiastically, mouth opening for you– please don’t bite.”

He gasps as you let him see all that he’d wanted from the get go, why he put you in that box, why you ended up in this place for.

His body was lighter than you thought as he sunk against you-- eyes closed, body limp against yours, he made the softest sounds it put you at ease somehow, for a moment you saw a very small being latched on your chest, you’d only experienced it once before, and it was seared into your mind as a painful yet tender memory, so you close your eyes dreaming of a fantasy far removed from this peculiar reality, half lid eyes found a man so blissed out your lips curved, this was unbelievable, the world most famous supe keeping you hostage just so you could indulged him.

But you knew now… that this was your way out.

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well. 

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[thirdsaltyhunter]

Girl's Night

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Jody and Donna ask you for help on a hunt and you all get drunk and call your boyfriend while you're away

Warning: fluff, cuteness, kissing, mentions of a hunt so violence?, celebratory drinking, getting drunk

A/N: not proofread, all mistakes are my own

You woke up earlier than you usually did. Jody had given you a call to tell you that her and Donna had caught wind of a pack of werewolves just south of Sioux Falls and could use your help taking them out.

You wanted to start driving early so you could avoid most of the traffic and so you could offer your expertise as soon as possible. However, mornings aren't really your thing. You fought back the groan at how much you didn't want to leave your comfortable spot in bed where Dean was currently keeping you warm. Nonetheless, you began wiggling your way out from under his arm. You were trying not to wake him up this early because he hadn't slept enough this week.

As you tossed some clothes into your duffel bag, you thought you might be able to make it out without waking him, but he was always a light sleeper. A quiet grumble of your name sounded from beneath the covers.

"Hey baby," you whispered going back to the side of the bed.

"You leaving?" he asked, noticing your packed duffle bag, voice rough with sleep.

"Yeah, Jody asked me to help her and Donna take out some wolves."

He nodded and reached for you to pull you into a hug which, from the position he was in, meant that you were just laying on top of him. He was always extra cuddly in the mornings and you loved it, despite how much it tempted you to crawl back under the covers with him. "Be careful out there," he said, placing a kiss to your temple.

"You know I will." You propped yourself up on your elbow so you could look down at him. "Besides, you know it's gonna be a milk run. They probably don't even need me, they just want me to come up there so we can have girl's night."

He chuckled at that, because he knew you were right. Now that he thought about it, the last time he saw them, Donna had threatened that she'd drive down to Kansas herself and kidnap you if he didn't hand you over for a weekend.

He leaned up to plant a sweet kiss to your lips. "Call me when you finish the hunt so I know you're ok."

"I will." You kissed him again before crawling off of him. "I love you, go back to sleep."

"I love you too, sweetheart," he said, already burying his face into the pillow.

The hunt ended up being even easier than you thought it would be. You, Jody and Donna made a pretty formidable and efficient hunting team. The hunt was done before the sun even fully set, so you headed back to Jody's house to begin cooking dinner.

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he gave in to your request. Grabbing your duffle, you headed out of the bedroom to say your goodbyes to Sam before you made your way to your car to start the long drive up to Sioux Falls.

You all decided to forget the plan of cooking dinner and reward yourselves for a hunt-well-done by ordering pizza instead. Claire was off on her own hunt and Alex was working a late shift at the hospital. That left only you, Donna and Jody, sitting on the livingroom floor around a mostly empty pizza box, passing around a bottle of wine.

About an hour later, the three of you were well past tipsy and were having the best time laughing and telling stories from various hunts.

After catching up on everything and finishing off the bottle of wine, Jody decided to pull out the bourbon and poured a good amount of each of you.

"Soooo", Jody began with a hint of mischief in her voice. "How's Dean?"

"Yeah we need to hear about our favorite couple," Donna chimed in.

You knew she was talking about you and Dean but you decided to play around. "I don't know what you're talking about," you teased.

"Oh come on you know what we're talk'n about. We want to know what you and ol' Dean's like when you're away from the eyes of the world, y'know, when you put the hunter armor down," Jody inquired.

"I betcha he wears fuzzy socks and watches chick-flics, don't he?" Donna added teasingly.

That had you almost rolling on the floor with laughter. "Oh yeah, definitely."

It was nice being kind of childish like this with them. You had never had many friends in your teenage years and the hunting life didn't typically allow for gal-pals, but you had developed a really good friendship despite not having the time to see each other very often.

You wiped the tears of laughter from your eyes. "Oh shit, I forgot to call him", you attempted to grab your phone out of your bag, which took longer than needed, given your lack of coordination. "Dean asked me to call him after the hunt."

Jody and Donna looked at each other and awwww'ed in unison.

You tapped Dean's contact and put the phone to your ear. After a few rings you heard his voice. "Hey sweetheart."

"Heeeey", you greeted excitedly, voice slightly slurred.

"Hiya Dean-o", Donna said loud enough for Dean to hear.

You could hear him laugh on the other end, clearly gathering that you were all pretty inebriated and having a good time. "So I take it the hunt went well", he said with amusement in his voice.

"Oh it went great, we're badasses."

"I have no doubt of that," he said fondly.

"Hey Dean!" Jody cut in. "Is it true you wear fuzzy sock and watch chick-flicks when you're at home?"

"Baby, what did you tell them about me?" Dean asked you with mock annoyance.

"Oh nothing," you responded playfully. "Anyway gotta go."

You could hear he was barely holding back from laughing. "Hey hold on-" *click*

You bit your lip as you hung up on him before looking up at Jody and Donna. As soon as you made eye contact you all bust out laughing.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 7

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, PTSD, soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy gets hurt, anxious reader, mention of torture

Word Count: 3373

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Your senses began to awaken when a hand removed the mask covering your face. Your body felt numb and lightheaded, making it difficult for you to see anything, even if you were able to free your hands from the tight handcuffs. Your legs felt like jelly, and it felt like all of your strength had been stolen away. From a distance, you heard someone calling your name, but you had no idea who it was. Everything was terribly cloudy, complex, and hazy.

The voice attempting to communicate with you was most likely that of another evil scientist who had come to torture you and grab more samples from you. You thought, Oh, my god. How did things turn out for you? How much time have you spent here? Months, weeks, or a year? You struggled to remember every memory; your head hurt so much that you grimaced.

Ben snarled at Butcher, “Give me your fucking coat,” trying to quickly cover your body with his own as he saw you were only wearing a very short, thin, filthy dress that smelt terrible.

Ben said, “You still look beautiful, you know, but you definitely need a good and long shower, baby,” as he saw you straining to completely awaken. He kept observing your facial expressions, fascinated and concerned at the same time, since you appeared so innocent and confused in the metal box. You may have gotten the same upgrades as him, given his newfound abilities, and if he wasn't careful with you, you could do a lot of damage. If it were the same for you, though, he could manage the energy in your chest with ease.

You smelled blood everywhere and felt panicked the moment the smoke burned your eyes and made it difficult for you to see properly. Your body shook from anxiety and terror. All around you, you heard faint whimpers and shallow breathing that sounded like they were ready to pass away. The smell of death and pain filled that place. You knew you had to leave this torture house as soon as you could, while you were still able to. You used all of your strength to push the body in front of you against the wall and across the room harshly while that stranger forced you to put on a coat.

Ben groaned, “Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” as he realized he was through the wall. With a raised eyebrow, he grinned to himself. It wouldn't be that simple, he realized. After all, you were his equal. 

Butcher realized that this wouldn't go away as he had hoped and that he perhaps could have made a small mistake, and he took a step back in terror. He didn't dare get involved because he wasn't on Temp-V. 

You coughed in between clouds of smoke, and the heavy blood all over the area made your face drop. Indeed, you were once more in danger, and those creatures undoubtedly had new plans for you. You halted briefly as hot blood beneath your boots stopped you from continuing your frantic search for the exit. There were corpses all throughout the place, and they undoubtedly belonged to those people who had tormented you and forced you to sleep for who knows how long. 

“At this point, what will you do? Will she explode similarly to you or worse?” Ben stood up from the location he was thrown into, as Butcher asked.

Ben shook his head, scrubbing away the dusk and stones from his hair and clothes. “Stop whining like a bitch,” he shouted loudly. “I can handle this. She's just confused.”

You started to move out the door, but powerful hands quickly grabbed your waist and held your arms, restricting your movements just like the day you were tricked. You cried out, “Let me go,” as your heart raced in anticipation of being confinted or, worse, subjected to more agony.

You tried everything to pull yourself out of the desperate situation, feeling terrified and perplexed, but his grasp held you tightly, and it was strangely stronger than yours. 

A voice called out to your ear from behind you, “Calm down.” Once you found out, you knew it belonged to the man who once acted like he cared about you, then tossed you aside and tricked you with his new lover. That was when you truly realized what was going on. If your supe hearing sense wasn't playing tricks on you, it belonged to Ben.

“I want to get you out of here, sweetheart. I know how you are feeling, but stop resisting. Trust me.”

Ben spoke to you like he was whispering, yet you didn't feel at all at ease. Your body stiffened at the hurtful memories of him casting you aside, teaming up with Countess, and betraying you. He was the one who, along with Crimson Countess, imprisoned you in that icy, cruel location and made you endure unending suffering. His soothing murmurs sounded poisonous to the ears.

You fought to break free from his embrace as fury overtook the entirety of your being, but he applied even more force to you. Your gaze was fixed on the door when he settled his ruthless hold around your back, pressing his chest against your back to calm you. You felt so far away, yet so near to freedom. 

“It seems she's not very happy to see you, huh?” With a sly smile, Butcher smirked to Ben. “We must immediately leave this place. Any suggestions?”

Ben used the mask he had removed from your face moments before to cover your face once more, exposing you to the same smoke, while he managed to get a hold of both of your arms. You started to cry because you were horrified and felt betrayed, and your heart began to race since you had no idea what he would do to you. How come he was even abusing you in this way? 

You were still in his grasp as Ben leaned his head against yours, made you smell the smoke flowing from the mask, and whispered, “Sorry for this, baby. I wouldn't hurt you; I don't mean to. Just stay calm.”

Despite how much you tried to resist it, you have never felt more helpless against him. Tears were streaming down your face, and your eyes began to close. You wanted to talk to him right then and there and attempt to figure out what was bothering him so much about you. Though you planned to speak to him, the faint sound of his name vanished beneath the mask as a deep sleep overtook your already exhausted body.

“Thought you wanted to free her?” Butcher replied in a mocking voice as he observed Ben tightly holding the mask to your face while observing the painful look on your face. With an serious tone, Butcher continued, “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

When Butcher saw you two like that, he was surprised. All he knew was that everyone who knew them acknowledged Soldier Boy and Countess's romantic relationship. At the time, they were the most well-known couple. He was unaware of your relationship with Soldier Boy. As long as Ben followed through on his commitment to kill Homelander, he could care less about the possibility that it was an affair, something between you, or something else. He'd take care of other stuff later. 

Ben yelled, “Fuck off,” in a harsh tone. “Without this mask, we can't take her out like that. Until we get home, I'll keep her asleep.” 

“And how on earth will you do that, Mr. Loverman?”

Ben snapped, “Take that fucking tube,” and softened his hands immediately after applying the mask to your face a little too forcefully. While you were still a supe and wouldn't be easily wounded, he felt a little bad for unleashing his strength on you. You're being a supe did not, however, mean that using force against you was acceptable. “You will carry it while I keep that mask on her face till we get to the car.”

Butcher followed Ben's instructions and grabbed the tube Ben mentioned. As he strained to hold the tube steady on his shoulders, Butcher muttered a groan and said, “This shit is a bit too heavy.”

Even though he was stronger than the majority of other humans even in his human form, Butcher found it difficult to carry the tube. His jaw clenched and his muscles tautened as he bore it.

Ben was furious and was trying to find a method to carry you as he made sure the mask stayed on your face and forced you to stay asleep. “Be a fucking real man for a second,” he cursed. Ben lifted you in his arms and carried you in bridal carry while the other hand remained still on the mask.

“I should have used Temp-V,” Butcher complained once again as he followed Ben, who was making his way out of the room in quick steps, while you slept peacefully in his arms.

“Maybe you should just grow your dick,” Ben remarked as he headed for the car after getting a deep breath of fresh air. Sitting in the rear now, Hughie was staring at them, mouth agape with worry, seeing you in Soldier Boy's arms, blissfully asleep. 

Hughie tried to ask questions, but Ben shot him an angry glare and said, “Why the fuck are you waiting there? Fucking move.”

Hughie took a step forward and turned around without uttering a word. He watched, worried, as Butcher set down a big tupe on the seat next to Ben, who had come into the car, put you on his lap, and covered your face with a mask.

“Let’s fucking get the fuck out of there,” Butcher murmered after he gave a look to Ben and you.

Ben tenderly laid your body on his bed, and Butcher and Hughie followed him inside his room, their eyes wide with curiosity. 

“What happened to her?” Hughie asked Butcher and Ben, but neither of them responded.

In the hopes that you would be more at ease, Ben removed the mask from your face and waited for you to wake up once more. He saw you gently open your eyes, and his heart raced. Uncertain of your response, Butcher and Hughie put some distance between them.

You opened your eyes and let out a painful moan. When everything became clear to your sight at last, it was then that you realized you were lying in a bed that was comfy.

Ben slowly sat down next to you, placing his large hands on yours and muttering in a dry voice, “Everything's good; you're good.”

Was it truly good, though? 

With a feeble voice, you asked, “Ben?” while keeping your gaze on his green ones. He didn't look quite the same as when you last saw him. His beard gave him a more serious, grown-up appearance. “What's going on over here?” 

The two strangers who were observing you intently caught your attention, and they inhaled deeply. Ben was about to grab your hand, but you quickly moved to put some distance between you and avoid his touch. You smelled a lot worse than you looked, and you were wearing a long, black coat. You checked your body, and your face wrinkled with loathing. Oh god.. For how long has it been? 

You grimaced, gave Ben a fierce gaze, and asked, “How could you have done this to me?” before he could say anything more. 

Ben was briefly taken aback, but he wasn't shocked that you believed he was the one who had fooled and deceived you, placing you in such a horrible situation for decades—even though it had all been Vought's evil shit all along.

"Course it wasn't me." Ben immediately defended himself, gazing over your body. “I didn't even know,” he said.

You raised your hand to interrupt him before he could say any more lies, saying, “I just need a shower right now.”

You were careful not to touch Ben while he nodded and apologized in a low voice as he attempted to assist you in standing up. The two guys across the room were simply silently waiting and observing you when Ben sent them an angry glare, and they quickly left the room. Though you were ignorant of the dynamics amongst the three of them, you knew you needed to use caution if they were Ben's new fellow soldiers. In the end, you had no understanding of what was going on, and you received no change from anyone.

There was an unsettling silence the two of you had while you were alone in the room, but he soon showed you the bathroom. 

You murmured, gently keeping the coat against your body, “I need new clothes.” After everything that happened to you, you shouldn't have been concerned about how you looked, but you were unable to stop it. It was a natural inclination, after all, to feel clean. 

Ben smiled warmly at your hesitant attitude as he went to the wardrob with pride and showed you the t-shirt, underwear and all he had previously purchased for you with Butcher's money. He wanted you to see how interested and ready he was to start things again with you, as he had already given it much thought. Not only did he take your suit from Legend, but he promised to display it to you later. Your suit wasn't a priority, considering that the chaos all around you had already overwhelmed you.

“I'll be waiting downstairs, so we can talk about what happened properly,” Ben stated after clearing his throat. Then, you took the clothes from his hands and entered the bathroom, locking the door as though someone would dare to interrupt.

You took the longest shower of your life, showered head to toe, put on the clothes Ben bought you, and headed downstairs. Ben and two strangers were watching the news on TV, which seemed a little unusual because it was so modern. 

Ben did not make a scene, even though his face fell when he saw you sitting on the couch, distant from him. As you began to watch the news, you glanced at the gadget that Hughie was holding and clicked on it while wearing a serious expression. Then you turned to face Ben and requested, “Tell me slowly, what year we are in?” in a low voice.

With rush, Butcher responded, “It's 2022.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, placing your hand over your forehead, while continuing to stare at the TV and gawking at all the strange things you had never seen before. Ben had stole your years.

Ben instantly spoke up and stated once more in a firm voice, “I didn't do this to you. Vought deceived both of us. Also, it has been about four days since those fuckfaces rescued me in Russia.”

“You’re welcome,” Butcher said, sipping his whiskey.

You questioned Ben once more in a suspicious tone, “How did you even find out what happened to me?” You had plenty time to ask all the thousand questions you had, but you still had priorities.

Ben's gaze strayed as he thought about sitting next to you and making a physical connection to ensure you listened him properly without you passing judgment on him, but he remained where he was. He never considered discussing Crimson again, but it seems that it was inescapable.

Ben only said, “I learned it from Crimson Countess,” trying not to show how insecure he was. He and the Countess had already done you an immense amount of pain. 

With a sad smile, you nodded meaningfully and said, “Of course she'd be the first to pay a visit.”

She remained his main concern even after all this time and your efforts on his behalf. But now it means absolutely nothing. While you were sleeping, so many years had gone by, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. You felt like you had undergone a complete change from the person you knew in the past.

“It’s not what you think,” Ben said seeing your disappointed face.

“I really don’t care, Ben,” you simply said with all sincerity. You weren’t lying.

Although it was difficult to accept their relationship and everything that had happened in the past, you now felt a little foolish for not just letting go. In addition, you spent years in a metal box and were tortured because of your naive attitude. You felt lost, and you had nothing now. You were left without even a place to go.

“Do you have something to eat?” you shyly asked Hughie, who had a humble and kind expression on his face. You have questions, for sure, but you needed to eat something first.

Hughie quickly said, “Sure, we can order something.” And you thanked him with a smile on your face.

Ben took a deep breath and decided not to press the issue because he thought you were a little too sensitive and hungry. His whole body was itching to sit next to you, and his eyes never left you. He was never fully aware of how much his body yearned for your attention and touch. Perhaps since so many years had passed between you, this need and yearning had always existed. But you were not the woman he had known before, and your gentle but determined attempts to keep him at a distance disturbed him.

You leaned back as you ignored Ben’s gaze on you and tried to focused on the TV to see how much the world has changed.

“I visited her to ask what happened to you,” Ben suddenly said with a rough voice.

Without getting into an argument, you just nodded and carried on watching TV, saying, “Okay.”

There was a headline that said, ‘Soldier Boy's terror killed at least 50 people in a week,’ when the information first came on television. 

Ben cursed loudly, and you murmered, “What?”

You were all fixated on the reporter commenting on the extent of Ben's damage to Ohio and New York while Butcher turned up the voice of the TV. You gasped as you watched an entirely wrecked street in New York and heard injured people telling the TV reporter how far Ben's explosion was heard from and how badly he damaged the lives of everyone inside, killing 19 people, including children. 

Ben's face was unreadable as he stared at the television, lost in thoughts and feeling a weight of guilt in his chest. He had no intention of blowing up in the first place. He was aware that the Russian song was the reason behind his unexpected outburst in the middle of the street. He had no feelings of hostility toward people.

When they also displayed the doctor's picture on the screen—who was heavily involved in your torture—your lips parted in disbelief. The reporter was telling the public that Soldier Boy had blown up his house and him as well.

“What have you done?” you murmered to Ben whose lethal green eyes were fixed on yours.

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

And Happy Pride Month to my dearest readers and everyone! -`♡´-

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. -`♡´-

[bueckerrss]

SKYFALL - PAIGE BUECKERS

warnings: angst.

tags: @patscorner @wintersstan @pbueckerslover

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

TEARS FORMED IN MY EYES the words i dreaded the most were finally said and i had no idea how we got here but it finally happened.

how did we get here? i thought everything was okay between us, but i guess not everything was like i thought it was.

“look, i’m sorry okay i just don’t feel a connection between us anymore and i’m not going to lie i have been seeing someone else” she said no emotion behind her words.

wake up, wake up, wake up!

this is just a horrible dream y/n she’s not here, she’s not real, but what if it was? what if she really is here telling me all the things i’ve never wanted to talk about?

“oh,” i whispered fearing that if i said something else i would break down “since when?” i asked looking at her face for answers “for a while now, like three weeks or so” great. around that time she was being the most loving girlfriend.

“PAIGE!!” i shrieked as she tickled me making me squirm beneath her trying to free myself from her grip “SAY IT! SAY I’M THE BEST AT FORTNITE!” she said in between laughs still tickling me “never!” i laughed out as i flipped us over so now i was on top looking at her. her eyes looking into mine then down towards my lips, in one quick motion her lips were on mine a fire enlightening in us. the spark suddenly being back, the spark i’ve missed so much.

“so everything we did and everything we shared was fake?” i felt tears prick my eyes blinking them back i look at her face no sign of remorse or guilt being shown “i mean not entirely but yea, look i have to go” she said standing up and heading for the door.

once i was sure she was gone i let out a sob finally letting everything out, how could i be so stupid? i knew she was no good for me but i let my guard down. i trusted her.

“paige look it’s a duck!” i said pointing to the pond in front of us as we walked down the park hand in hand “where?” she asked looking around the pond “right there by the rock!” i said she followed my gaze and smiled at the sight of the baby duck waddling out of the water. “he walks like you” she teased slightly nudging my shoulder, i turned around pretending to be mad at her “babe, don’t be like that! i was joking!” she said going after me and placing a hand on my shoulder i shrugged it off looking anywhere but her. “baby come on look at me” she said stepping in front of me she lifted my chin up with two fingers making me look at her “there you go, wasn’t that hard right?” she whispered, letting my chin go she pulled out a box from her pocket and held it out for me. the black velvet box seeming so small compared to her hand, i looked up at her a smile spread across my face as she nodded towards the box for me to take.

opening the lid it revealed a beautiful golden necklace with a heart charm “look into the heart” she smiled at me as i looked into the heart my smile grew wider it said “i love you” in every language.

i took off the necklace she had given me and placed it on the table in front of me, laying down on my back looking up at the ceiling the tears pooling out of my eyes the harder i tried stopping them the more the tears would came out. it felt like my whole world was crumbling apart.

my heart felt like it was breaking every second that passed, i felt like i couldn’t breathe without her by my side she was my source of oxygen and i lost it. i held my breath trying to calm myself down but a sob escaped my lips making me cough.

-

i’ve spent more time looking at my phone for a text or call from paige, but nothing all i wanted was an explanation. the one she gave me didn’t feel like her. it felt forced. but i didn’t have time for that anymore.

i walked towards the familiar door i’ve walked through a thousand times before knocking on it. a girl i didn’t recognize opened the door “hi, sorry to bother but is paige home?” i asked looking at the redhead in front of me “babe who’s at the door?” a familiar voice said in the background as it got closer “y/n” she said locking eyes with me her whole demeanor changing “paige,” i said stretching out my arms with the box of her things “just came to return your things” i said as i handed her the box “uh, thanks” she said “lily could you put this in my room please?” she asked giving her the box leaving us alone.

“is that all?” she asked looking around “yea, that’s all and here” i said taking out the velvet box from my pocket and putting it in her hand before leaving without saying anything else.

“do you ever think about the future?” i asked paige as i drew figures on her arms “all the time, why?” she asked looking at me “am i in it?” i whispered looking at her “baby, you are my future there’s no one else i’ll love more than you.” she whispered back pulling me closer to kiss my head. i smiled as i let sleep take over my body and enjoying this moment.

[pinksfloydss]

i like the way you kiss me 

Pairings: erik lehnsherr x afab reader (she/her pronoun use)

Warnings: smut, 18+. praise kink, mirror kink, insecurity, toxic (?) relationship. fwb of sorts. takes place after Days of Future Past. first time writing smut so be nice!

She knew her position in all of this, and she didn’t dare step over the boundaries. She knew Erik was not interested in a relationship, that he was looking for a warm body to press up against on the cold nights. At first she didn’t mind it. Just like him, she wanted a distraction from all of this tragedy and ostracisation in her life. Being a Mutant on the run from law enforcements was not an easy task, especially when nearly every Government agency was after Erik, and her by association. There was that understanding between them. An understanding that they were in this together. But not together, together.

She stood in the motel’s bathroom, a thin door separating her from Erik who was sitting on the bed. Sighing deeply, she tossed the empty box of hair dye in the trash can along with a pair of stained gloves. Sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, she glanced down at her gold watch, taking note of the time. After 45 minutes, she stripped out of her clothing and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water rush down her body. She used the shampoo and conditioner set she purchased alongside the hair dye. Erik argued that it was nonsensical, since the motel would have complimentary shampoo and conditioner for them to use. She fought back with the fact she was already changing the color of her hair, she wasn’t going to damage it anymore with cheap motel products. 

After drying off her body with the rough towel and blow drying her hair with the motel-given dryer that made the lights flicker when she turned it on, she slipped into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top. There was a knock on the bathroom door. 

“One second,” she replied, raising her voice only slightly. 

“Come on, you’ve been in there forever,” Erik retorted through the door. “The suspense is killing me.”

She rolled her eyes and unlocked the door, allowing him to turn the knob and step in. She wasn’t ready to look at him directly yet, so she continued to nit-pick her appearance in the mirror. Erik came up behind her, gazing at her in the mirror as well. He gathered her waist length hair into his hands, holding it up like a ponytail. 

“I think it suits you,” he murmured. “It's a shame there wasn’t any extra to share.”

She smiled at him in the reflection. “I can go back to the store tomorrow.”

“I’ll pass.”

Erik pressed himself against the back of her, dropping her hair down over one shoulder as he leaned in. He pressed soft kisses into the kiss of her neck, his scruff scratching her soft skin. 

“Erik,” she muttered. “I just got out of the shower.”

“You can take another one.”

He grasped her jaw, turning her head so that they could kiss. It was soft, almost convincing. He kept her body pointed at the mirror. Sighing softly, he pulled himself away from her, looking down at her with dark eyes. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” he whispered. 

Her breath shook as she exhaled. She grabbed his hands that were planted at hips and started tugging on them. Placing one of his hands on her chest, she pulled the second one further down. He cupped her through her pajama shorts. 

“Eager, are we?” he teased. 

“Don’t make me beg,” she pleaded. “It’s embarrassing.”

He smiled against her neck. “You sound so beautiful when you beg.”

She closed her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t be able to look at herself in the reflection. “Erik,” she whispered. “I need you. Please.”

Erik removed his hands from her body and grabbed the hem of her tank top, guiding her through it and off her body. Next, he moved to her shorts, pushing them off her hips and down the legs. She supported herself up by placing her palms on the sink counter. Her legs were weak, pliable. She kept her eyes closed. 

She always considered herself to be a modern-woman, not in the need of a man to help her with anything. But at this moment, she needed Erik’s help. He was the only one who could make her feel better. The feeling of embarrassment with desperation kept her eyes sealed shut.

Erik pulled her back up against him, and she could feel the fact he just removed his own clothes. He groaned when she shifted weight, her soft skin rubbing against his growing hardness. One of his hands reached around her to her chest, rubbing his thumb across her hard nipple. His lips found the spot right under her ear, kissing it softly. Next, his other hand ran over her stomach and down between her thighs. His two innermost fingers slid between her folds, slipping inside her.

A gasp left her lips as he worked at her. The heel of his palm rubbed at her clit, making her tighten around his fingers even more. 

“Erik,” she sighed. 

“Say it,” he groaned. 

“Please,” she choked out. “I want you. I – fuck – please, Erik.”

Erik complied to her pleads. He removed his hand from her and shuffled behind her, finding the right spot to stand. Finding it, he lined himself up with her and slowly slid in, giving her time to adjust. Perhaps the lewdest sound she has ever made came out of her. Perhaps the people in the neighboring rooms could hear her. Perhaps she was feeding into his ego. Any of it, she did not care. All she cared about was the way he was making her feel in this moment. 

Erik grabbed both of her wrist, holding them behind her at the small of her back with one hand. The other grasped the base of the back of her neck, pushing the upper part of her body flat against the sink counter. She turned her head to the side, one cheek flushed against the cool counter. Erik made sure to collect all of her hair away from that side of her face, even placing it so it was off the back of her neck. His thrusts started out slow, patient with her body. But they soon picked up speed. With every moan she let out, he felt more of a responsibility to make the next one better. 

“Is this what you’re too embarrassed to say you like?” he murmured, his one hand still gripping both of her wrists while the other braces himself on the back of her shoulder. “Do you like giving yourself completely over to me? Do you like the way I make you feel?”

She choked out a cry. She was never going to admit it out loud, she couldn’t. But the way his words – the truth she was afraid to confess – made her feel, sent shock waves through her body. He grabbed a fistful of hair with his hand, pulling her face up high enough to be seen in the mirror. 

“Open your eyes, sweet girl,” he groaned. “Look at yourself.”

At first, she shook her head, but then he tightened her grip on her hair. Not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to send a message. Her eyes fluttered open, and she finally saw what she was so worried about seeing. Her face was flushed, her eyes hazed over, her lips slightly bruised from where she was biting down on and didn’t even realize it.

“I wish you could see all that I could see,” Erik groaned. “So beautiful, taking me so well.”

She unknowingly backed her hips up at him mid-thrust, electing a soft chuckle from him. Her eyes left her own reflection and stared at his, seeing the way he gazed down at her. She didn’t want to convince herself of anything. Not now, not here. 

He let go of her wrist and her hair, pulling her body back up to be flushed up against his chest. She turned her head so she could actually look at him and not his reflection. His hand cupped her breast as he continued to move inside her.

“Tell..” she stopped herself. 

He stopped moving. “Tell what?” he asked. 

She shook her head, rocking herself back and front and trying the mimic the way it felt only a few seconds ago. “Ignore me,” she replied.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, sweet girl,” he said softly. “Say it.”

She closed her eyes again, turning her face away from him. “Erik, not now.”

He pulled out of her entirely, whirling her around to face him. “I can’t enjoy this if I think you’re not.”

She grabbed his face with both of her hands. “I am enjoying this,” she said, pulling his face down to kiss him. He kissed her back, hesitantly. Slowly, she started shuffling her way out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. One bed. It was the only vacant room in the motel. 

She crawled onto the bed, stopping when her face met the soft pillow. She was on her knees, her back arched, showing herself to him. This could be her most vulnerable, but when she felt Erik move into bed behind her, grab her hips, and flip her onto her back, she felt more exposed than ever before.

“I want to see you,” he explained. “I want you to tell me what you want.”

She pulled him down so that he was hovering on top of her, forearms boxing in her head. Her hand pulled him down to kiss her while the other hand grabbed him and lined himself back up with her. He sank in completely, and she moaned into his mouth. 

“Please tell me, my girl,” he whispered, pulling away from the kiss. 

She tucked her head into the crook of his neck. “Tell me you like me, Erik. Tell me how good…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence before his hips snapped against hers. He grabbed a spare pillow and shoved it under her hips, creating a different angle that she could feel. 

“You’re squeezing me just right,” he groaned. “So perfect. You’re taking me so well, sweet girl.”

Her back arched involuntarily, her chest meeting his with ragged breaths. She wanted more, and he could tell.

“You want to make me proud, don't you?” he teased. “I can see it in everything you do. Look at what I’m seeing.”

He brought her gaze to between their bodies, where he was hovering enough over her that they could watch him disappear into her with every thrust. 

“You don’t know how perfect you feel,” he groaned. “Wrapped around me like you were made for me. Only for me. Your mine.”

She cried out, digging her fingernails into the skin of his shoulders. Erik dipped down to kiss her, helping her through her orgasm. With the way she was tightening around him, he didn’t last that much longer. Groaning, he quickly pulled himself out of her, letting himself finish on her stomach. She was panting, her thighs that were tight against his hips were shaking. After a moment to catch their breaths, he dropped himself onto the bed next to her. He took one look at her stomach and got out of bed, walking to the bathroom. He grabbed her clothes and a wash cloth he ran under warm water. Before walking back out, he quickly pulled on his boxers. 

When he came back into the bedroom, she had pulled at the sheets enough to cover her breasts and thighs. Erik chuckled softly, making a teasing remark on her modesty at this point. He wiped her stomach clean and helped her back into her clothes. She sighed at the feeling of his rough hands against her skin. 

He climbed back into bed beside her, pulling the blankets up over both of them. He noticed her hesitancy and how frozen she seemed under the blankets, so he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled him against him.

“I may not be telepathic, but I can see when you’re thinking,” he commented. “What is it?”

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his expressions. “I know what we are, Erik. But sometimes it still stings.”

“And what do you think we are?” he asked, his eyes burning into her. 

“It’s just sex between us,” she replied, taking a deep breath. “I know that.”

He signed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Quietly, he said her name, and then repeated it so that she would look at him for once. “It’s not just sex, sweet girl. I could spend every waking moment with you, not even touching, and that would be enough to keep me content. I just happen to like the way you kiss me.”

Her eyes were almost sad. “Erik,” she whispered. “If I didn’t side with you, and we weren’t on the run..”

“I would risk arrest if that meant catching a sight of you.”

She chuckled softly, closing her eyes as she felt his nose brush against her cheek. “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that ‘cause you were just inside me 5 minutes ago.”

Erik pressed a kiss against her lips. “No, I’m saying that because I mean it.”

[spacedace]

Bruce is grateful for the fact that Damian has made friends, he is.

He's happy that his son has met children his own age at school and befriended them. That he is growing from that prickly, unhappy, scarred child he'd first been when he'd come to live with Bruce. That his friends are even normal kids - baring Jon, who is still normal enough despite being the son of Superman and occasionally a super hero himself - with no links to anything strange or dangerous or illegal.

"Oh, sup B."

He just wished that his son's friends were also just a little less...feral.

"Hello Elle."

Elle Nightingale gave him a little wave with the lemon she was holding - or as best as she could considering the space she was working with - and smiled cheekily at him. Bruce felt a headache budding behind his eyes.

"I thought Alfred banned you from the kitchen?" She shifted a bit, nudging a bottle of milk - farm fresh, courtesy of the Kents, passed along via Jon as thanks for looking after him for the weekend. Bruce wished he'd had the foresight to expect that Jonathan Kent staying over for the weekend would mean that Elle, her cousin Billy and their friend BL - the children refused to say the girl’s real name, likely to spite Damian, and thr initials had been a compromise to calling her Box Lunch - would take it as them being permitted to stay over for so long as well. Damian had just given Bruce a an unimpressed look when he'd expressed his surprise at the sudden influx of twelve year olds in his home. As if Bruce was disappointing him at being so foolish as to think his entire pack of hellhounds wouldn't be invading enmass.

"Just getting a snack." He assured her, not wanting her to being the wrath of Alfred down upon his head. The hellions liked doing that, for some reason. "I don't suppose you could tell me what exactly you're doing in my fridge." Bruce tried, looking at the girl curled up in what should have been a deeply uncomfortable position between a few shelves of the large appliance.

Elle grinned. Her canines looked a little too sharp in the odd light of the fridge. Bruce really had to stop thinking of his sons friends as demonic hellions, he was starting to impose impossible features on them when he was sleep deprived.

"We're playing hide and seek." She made direct, unblinking eye contact with him as she brought the whole lemon to her mouth and took a bite out of it like it was an apple. "It’s Day's turn to seek." She added, lemon juice dripping down her chin as she swallowed her bite, rind and all.

Well at least she was getting enough vitimin C.

"Right." He nodded, deciding that it wasn't cowardice that led him not wanting to get involved. No, it was just...good parenting. Letting the kids be kids. It was a sleepover, and Damian was actually playing a game! That was something to be encouraged! Bruce wasn't fleeing from this particular group of children's brand of chaos at all. "...could you hand me one of the fruit cups Alfred made earlier?"

Elle obliged on the condition Bruce didn't tell Damian about her hiding spot and returned to happily eating her...whole lemon...as he shut the fridge door on her.

As he returned to his office he glanced out one of the manor's large windows long enough to see Billy stick his head out from the top of the twelve foot tall topiaries out on the front lawn, checking to see if Damian was about. Bruce shook his head, kids and their ability to climb impossible structures never ceased to amaze him. Billy should be careful not to keep trying to peak for Damian though, he was going to end up getting found that way.

[moonstruckme]

sirius x reader where reader is remus' roommate at academic and one day she meets sirius when he is visiting remus and they click right away, all flirty and smiles and remus acting all annoyed but is actually happy for them

Hi sweetness, thanks for requesting!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 555 words

“Hey,” Remus calls as he walks in the door, Sirius in tow. “I brought a friend over, hope that’s alright.”

You barely look up from your laptop. “Mhm, sure.” 

“Thanks,” he says. He feels weird asking—you’re amiable enough, and have never given Remus any indication that you care what he does in your apartment. Still, you’re a quiet thing. You generally keep to yourself, which suits Remus just fine, but it makes him feel a bit guilty that he’d forgotten to tell you his loudest, rowdiest friend would be coming to visit. 

Sirius’ eyes blow wide as soon as he catches sight of you, and he shoots Remus an open-mouthed look he can interpret without his friend saying anything: You didn’t mention your roommate is hot.

Remus sighs. “Sirius, this is Y/N. Y/N, Sirius.” 

You shut your laptop, looking up with a polite smile that only broadens as you take in the boy in front of you. “Hey,” you say, your eyes assessing. 

“Hello.” Sirius grins at you. “So, how are you enjoying living with our Moony? Is the snoring getting to you yet?”

Remus huffs indignantly, but neither of you seem to notice. 

“Moony?” you ask. 

“Old nickname.” 

“Right.” You shrug, looking bored. “Remus is a great roommate. He’s clean, quiet, not a creep. Checks all my boxes.” 

Remus grins proudly (though really, that seems like a fairly low bar), but Sirius shakes his head in disbelief. “Seems like she’s too nice to you, Moons,” he says solemnly, speaking apparently to Remus but with his attention still solely on you. “Who’s being mean to you when I’m not around to do it?”

You cock an eyebrow. “Sounds like he needs to be meaner to you.” 

Sirius grins. “Ah, he sure does try, but unfortunately there’s not much to say. I’m impervious to insult.” 

Remus is beginning to feel like a piece in a game in which he’s not expected to participate. “Are you sure about that?” he asks innocently. “Because I seem to recall an event during fifth year—”

“Although I have to give it to him.” Sirius rushes to speak over Remus, somehow still maintaining a casual tone. “He definitely knows how to pick the most gorgeous friends, doesn’t he?”

Remus is surprised at how easily you rise to meet Sirius’ bravado, not even the faintest blush coming to your cheeks as you return his smile. “Seems like it.” 

Remus rolls his eyes at the two of you, though he has to admit he’s immensely entertained. “Y/N,” he says, feigning reluctance, “Sirius and I were going to stop by the pub down the road, would you like to join us?”

“Sure.” You stand, shooting Remus a smile sweeter than anything you’ve shown Sirius thus far. “That sounds great, thanks.” 

Sirius almost knocks Remus over in his rush to occupy your attention again. “Excellent! Let me guess, you’re a cider girl?”

You roll your eyes at him, brushing your shoulder against his as you pass and letting him trail after you like a puppy. “Guess you’ll have to buy me one and find out.” 

“Enticing.” Sirius’ grin turns wolfish. “I don’t mind a bit of mystery.” 

Remus heaves a sigh, following the two of you out of the apartment and locking up. He suspects he’s in for a night of third-wheeling.

[diejager]

New Ownership

Pairing: Dark!Krueger + König x doll!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, possessive behaviour, magic?, death, heartbreak, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.2k

You used to watch people awe at you, expressing their shock, incredulous and pleasing, under the protection of your owner —your creator. You were an object of emotion; of melancholy. You were a life size doll made of porcelain and wax, of hohair and glass eyes, painted in the richest pigments and dressed in the finest fabrics, you were the epitome of treasure in your time. A doll made with utmost care and tenderness to heal a wounded heart. 

Your creator was a doll maker, building every doll with a special kind of affection, be it for his collection or for a client, he always loved his dolls. He made as much as he gave, the single joy of his life was the present his late-wife gave him, a daughter to call his own, someone soft and living unlike the cold bisque of his creations. You were a present for her coming-of-age, a mimicry of her person, made with love for the adoration he had for his daughter, and sadness for seeing her grow up and leave, to start a new life without him. Every stroke was perfection and every detail was imperfection, you were perfectly imperfect, a mirror to a human.

You were made as an object to remember him by once she left to live with her fiance, painted in the last moments before he saw her off. He dressed you up in a pretty dress, a voluptuous crimson for the passion and a deep black for the end of he past and the start of a new beginning. He made you into what he saw his sweet, precious daughter as, a dream that he was ecstatic to gift, but she was in an accident the week before her celebration. She died of it, passing in writhing pain and tearful agony. It broke the man who lived to care. Your tender creator who lived to love and give.

He drowned in the throes of sorrow and agony, paraliysed by his own fears and torn apart by his nightmares, and left the house you once loved to rot and waste away just as he was. Sobbing nights and depressing mornings, you were unable to do anything but watch as he spent his days rotting, his skin sinking, his hair outgrow and his complexity pale unhealthily, yet he still cared for you. Your creator —your father cleaned you, dressed you and incased you in a thin layer of wax and gel to protect you from the changing times. 

You gave him solace, something to live for after he closed his quaint shop and became a hermit, crazed and lonely, having nothing but you to talk to and spend his shortening time with. You wished you could tell him how much you cared, how much you shared his sorrows or how saddened you were to see him like this. And like his daughter, your father passed away, heartbroken and lonely, leaving you to watch over his cooling body dissolving in his bed. All the wasted years, spent seated in your chair, unmoving and unliving, never being able to reach out to him to show him how much you loved him. Life, however, ran its course, uncaring of any kind of self-sought fury or self-given agony, you were just a doll given conscience and memory. 

You were picked up by a relative, estranged and distant from yours. He was German, or Austrian from the rough tone he used, a deep growl as he appraised you, rough fingers caressing your face like he was admiring you. He was, this wasn’t admiration in his eyes, you knew it, that sick and twisted gleam in his brown eyes, it was obsession. It was a perverted kind of adoration, it made you fear what he would do to you.

And these fears, these demons that clung to your peripheral, weren’t unfounded, weren’t an illusion your conscience made up to fill the void in your empty core. You were carefully stuffed in a box, stored safely during the long move from your small town in Germany to a place in Austria, locked away in a loud and dark place and only brought out to be placed in another cage of gold. 

He laid you in a pentagram of sorts, a crooked thing painted in a dark red and terrifying runes that promised nothing but evil. He enacted this… ritual that would affect you in some way, his low chants and hisses while he stared you down with hungry eyes once he stripped you of all clothes, lathering your porcelain with markings. He scared you more, knowing that he had this planned out, and that he wasn’t alone. 

There was a shadow of a giant behind him, a man heads taller than most with cold eyes peeking through a fabric to gaze at you. He had broad shoulders and thick arms, seemingly swallowing the corner he stood from. He took up a lot of your attention, ripped between the chanting man and him from your chair, placed perfectly at the center of this ritualistic circle. You were a show to the giant and a project to your new owner, a spectacle to watch unravel and writhe in pain.

It hurt. Why did this hurt? Your skin tingled, an annoyance that grew to a boiling agony, this sacrilegious magic reworking your imperfect body to fit one of his whims. You shook in your chair, the red sinking into your skin, lining the inside of your precious porcelain with runes as your fingers and toes flexed, limbs jerking from the information overload on your new nerves, synapses snapping into place and building a circuit of sensitive system. You could blink and you could cry, tears springing from your fluttering lashes, lips trembling before you screamed, a shrill cry that wailed out of your lungs. 

Your chest burned, it felt heavy with an erratic pulse, beat after beat slamming into your calcified ribs, warm fat and strained muscles. You felt like you were drowning, your throat clogged with something sick and dying after you shriek, acidic to your tongue. It stole the air from your lungs and you had to fill it back, the nagging urge to do so. Your chest expanded with your first breath, it hurt - it burned, but you didn’t drown - but it seamed the first seed of life within you. 

You slumped forward, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the last words he uttered passed through your mind, a searing memory forever imprinted in your conscience. You fell into warm arms, a soothing warmth unlike the boiling pit of magma that raged over you, embracing you with a quiet coo from the man who brought you to life. He hoisted you up, wrapping an arm under your knees and another firmly pressing your naked chest to his. Yours limbs were strangers to you, new and uncanny that you couldn’t move or control just yet. You limply laying your head in the crook of his neck, burying your nose in a green veil smelling strongly of musk and metal, your legs too weak and arms too tense like a newly born fawn.

“Besorg mir etwas, um sie zu bedecken, König”

“Ja, bin gleich wiener da..”

“Welcome to the living, Rehkitz.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Target Acquired - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Female! Reader

Length: 1.2k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Discussions of Menstruation/Periods and Everything That Goes with It; Rooster (Slightly) Panicking; Amelia Being Sassy; Fluff; Flirting; Use of "You" but No Y/N; Female Reader but No Physical Description

Summary: Amelia gets her first period while Rooster is left in charge of her. He is forced to ask for help from the first woman he sees, which just so happens to be you.

Master List

When Rooster agreed to watch Amelia for Penny for a weekend so that she and Maverick could have a weekend to themselves, he thought that it was going to be simple. Amelia was fifteen. She couldn’t drive herself anywhere, but she could advocate for herself. If he left her alone for half a day, she would survive.

But, of course, Amelia had to get her period for the first time. Ever. And Penny wasn’t answering her phone. And Phoenix wasn’t either. 

So, here he was, standing in the middle of Target, starting to pull his own hair out, as he tried to figure out what size of pads or tampons he should buy Amelia. He had no idea. Not a clue. His mom had given him an overview of what to expect with women on their periods, but his mind was completely blank as he edged towards a state of uncontrolled panic. 

“Just get the normal ones!” Amelia yelled at Rooster over the phone, holed up in her bathroom back at the house. “I still can’t find my mom’s stuff!”

“Just tell me what size to buy!” 

“The normal ones!”

“What color are the normal ones!?”

“I don’t know! Can’t you read!?” Amelia yelled back at him. Rooster sighed, forcing himself to take a breath. “Just ask someone!” 

“No, I’ll figure it out.” 

“I’m literally bleeding out in my bathroom right now, Rooster! Ask someone for help!” 

Rooster held the phone away from his ear, which he swore was ringing from Amelia’s yelling. Looking around, Rooster paused when he saw you step into the aisle. You offered him a kind half-smile before turning to the products. Quickly grabbing a set of tampons and pads, you were about to carry on with your shopping when Rooster seized his chance.

“Excuse me, Miss?” he asked awkwardly, causing you to grow a bit defensive. After all, women assumed that the one aisle where they wouldn’t be accosted by men would be in front of the tampons. “Um . . . I need some help picking out some pads and tampons.” 

“Okay,” you replied cautiously, clearly a bit confused. 

“My . . . step-sister just got her period for the first time and her mom isn’t picking up and I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to buy. And I really need some help so that she doesn’t kill me when I come back with the wrong stuff.” 

Your face softened at his explanation and you even chuckled a bit to yourself. Pointing at his phone, you asked, “Is she on the phone right now?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Can I talk to her?” 

“Yeah, of course. Uh, her name’s Amelia.” 

You smiled and brought his phone up to your ear. Introducing yourself to Amelia and offering Rooster a reassuring look, you looked at the period products in front of you. 

“So, I think it’s probably best for you to start with pads,” you began, picking up two different boxes and placing them into Bradley’s basket. “I’m grabbing you a thicker pad and a panty liner. Start with the thicker pad and definitely wear it overnight. But when your starts to stop, you can switch to the panty liner just to make sure you got it all out.” 

“It seems pretty heavy now.” 

“The first days are usually the heaviest. It’ll get lighter as the days pass. Some women finish their periods in two or three days. But if it goes on longer than a week, you should talk to your doctor about it. Or maybe go to see a gynecologist, if you can.” 

Rooster stood there, quietly making notes to himself, in case he found himself in this position again. After reassuring and answering a few more of Amelia’s questions, you grabbed a box of tampons and placed them into the basket as well. 

“I’m giving you a box of light tampons. They’re the smallest ones. But don’t feel like you have to use them. I waited almost two years to use them myself. But if you want to try it out, you just squat a little, insert it, push the smaller moveable part up while you hold the bigger piece in place, and then slowly pull the plastic out. Don’t leave that in there. And don’t forget to take it out after a couple hours.” 

“Thank you,” Amelia replied, causing you to smile. 

“Anytime.” 

You handed the phone back to Rooster, who offered you a thankful smile before he pulled the phone up to his ear. 

“You okay? Do you feel better now?” he asked Amelia.

“I mean, I’m still bleeding out, but at least you’re bringing the right stuff back.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be home soon. Text me if you need anything else.” 

Rooster hung up the phone before turning back to you. Sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, Rooster tried to not be awkward after his request to you, a complete stranger. A complete, very cute, stranger, who was no longer staring at him like he was a freaky weirdo lurking in the feminine products aisle. 

“I hope that was helpful,” you offered, causing Rooster to nod.

“Definitely. I was completely lost.” 

“I could tell.” 

“Right,” Rooster laughed off, rubbing the back of his neck. Slowly dropping his arm, he added, “Is there anything else that I should buy for her?” 

“There’s always things that you can buy for this,” you assured him.

You led him through the aisles, placing some pain relievers and a hot water bottle in his basket. And when Rooster asked again if there was anything else that he could get for Amelia, you pulled him into the food section. 

“Now, every woman is different, but when I’m on my period, I’m always craving something sweet. Chocolate is a good go-to, but honestly, I’m usually craving some kind of baked good. A cupcake or peanut butter cookies or something else entirely. Does she have anything that she usually likes to eat?” 

“Peanut butter, actually, yeah,” Rooster agreed.

The two of you walked through the rest of the food section to pick out a few items before slowly making your way to the checkout aisles. 

“I should pay for your stuff,” he offered, causing you to shake your head.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you insisted, holding your basket away from him. “It’s nothing.” 

“Let me pay for something, at least.” 

“You can buy me a coffee,” you replied, smiling softly. “After you go home and help Amelia, of course.” 

You typed your phone number into Rooster’s phone and the two of you bid goodbye to each other before heading your separate ways. Not even an hour after you left the store, Rooster texted you.

Amelia told me to say thank you again for your help. She and I know that I would have been hopeless without you. 

Sitting in your kitchen, you smiled to yourself as you typed back a response.

Always happy to help!

Biting your lip and wondering if the exclamation point was too aggressive, you let out a breath of relief when Rooster quickly texted you back. 

Are you free tomorrow for that coffee? Amelia’s mom is coming home then, so I’ll be free. 

Yeah, I’m free. Does 11 work? There’s a cute coffee shop right around the corner from Target with a nice patio in the back.

I know what place you’re talking about. I’ll see you there tomorrow at 11.

It’s a date, you typed back.

[himegureisu]

The Howler

Summary: Your husband, Severus, receives a Howler from you.

A/N: This prompt randomly passed through my brain. I thought it would be nice. It did take a day or two to write but here it is! I hope you like it, this is the first time I'm writing for Severus x Reader.

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

In the Great Hall, the breakfast banquet was served. Their students eagerly chattered among friends over good food and drink before classes. On the other hand at the High Table, small talk and occasional personal questions were exchanged.

That’s until the owls, in turn, the mail, came for the day.

Their tiny but sturdy claws carried various packages from letters, gifts, newspapers, and journal subscriptions. Among them, one particular barn owl was heading straight toward the High Table holding a distinct red letter.

From afar, Severus could see the owl, ignoring the House Tables, and coming straight for him. It wasn’t his owl. No, it was your owl. If it was your owl then…

“Oh dear,” Severus said,

By his side, Minerva, who was perusing her copy of the Wizarding World News stopped, to glance at him as the owl dropped the angry red letter above his plate.

“Severus,” she asked, the attention of other professors turned to him, “Is that a Howler?”

“Who would send our dear Severus a Howler?” Filius asked after,

You. His wife. Would send a Howler. You, who were undeniably cross after being forgotten.

Your owl chirped, Severus presented to her a treat, which she happily accepted before flying off. He stared at the Howler mentally preparing for the reprimand about to happen when Dumbledore said.

“Well go on, Severus, open it,” he urged, “I heard it is unwise to leave Howlers unanswered,”

So, he did.

“Severus Tobias Snape!” your voice echoed throughout the Hall, the student's attention on him, “You forgot about the move! I reminded you a thousand times when it was, and you still didn’t come.”

This time the Great Hall was quiet. Their attention focused on the tirade given to their most hated professor.

Let’s just say he wanted to die then and there.

“I know you hate handing your classes off to someone else, but I at least thought you’d make an exception for me!” you shouted at him in mind, “I moved across the continent for god sake! Do you know how much stuff I had? No! Do you know hard it was to transport all my boxes into the Manor? No! It was hard and that was with magic already. The only good thing you did was leaving the portkey because if you didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to enter the damned Manor and would be standing outside of it looking like a fool!”

The Howler paused.

“I love you but if you don’t come home tonight to help me unpack, you’re going to find yourself locked out of your own house.”

The Howler combusted thereafter.

His colleagues were in shock at the message conveyed. His students stared in a mix of horror, amusement, and curiosity. On the other hand, he was so screwed. His composure slowly faltered upon deliberating what to do and quickly decided on the appropriate course of action.

To go home to you.

“If you’d excuse me for the day, Professor,” Severus addressed Dumbledore, standing up from his seat, “I need to make it up to someone,”

“You can take the rest of the week off, Severus,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in wonder, “It seems you have some groveling to do,”

“That I do, Professor,” he answered, walking away then sighing, “That I do,”

Part 2 is up 💖

[supremechancellorrex]

Avatar in my head and I was thinking about Maiko and Mai.

Now, Mai's character arc in Avatar, from my interpretation, is rediscovering herself and her wants and personhood that has been stripped from her as a noblewoman part of a family that submitted to the Fire Nation Imperialist structure and Ozai. We see in Book 2 set up for this. Mai in early Book 2 does not resist Azula's will aside from brief sparks of rebellion where she isn't present. "Of course not, Princess Azula" she notes formally and apathetically when Azula asks if she "minds", knowing she has no choice as Azula 'just' ponders if Mai's hostage brother is worth an Earth King like Bumi. Mai is always aware that Azula, as Princess in an authoritarian nation where the Fire Lord is God, can have her executed and her family punished. The unequal power dynamic is surprisingly consistent in the show.

Mai can't even insult Azula back in Zuko Alone as a child. She just lets Azula put an apple on her head (as Ty Lee loyally sniggers along), set it on fire, and when Zuko pushes her into the fountain to put it out, Mai, drenched, glares and says "You two are such… ugh". We know Mai can have an acid tongue, yet her fear of Azula prevents her from using it. Her most rebellious act in Book 2 is when she says "She can shoot all the lightning she wants at me. I am not getting in that wall sludge juice". Mai actually has self-respect, but she can't express it in the presence of greater threats, meanwhile Ty Lee merely says "Come on! Azula said we have to follow them", because Ty Lee follows Azula's will even when she isn't there.

Even when Mai gets with Zuko, she falls into a subservient role. When Azula interrupts Maiko's smooching, lazily dismissing Mai with "Oh Mai, Ty Lee needs help untangling her braid" Mai responds quickly "Sounds pretty serious" with only a touch of dryness and leaves, only able to muster throwing Azula a dirty look a split second after passing her. However, this little ember of rebellion will grow.

Mai has continued difficulty understanding Zuko's anger and reactiveness, or how to even function in a relationship. She initially tries to joke in a dismissive fashion, as if saying 'ugh, feelings are lame, right?', but that would only work with Azula logically. The Beach episode is a key Mai episode. She continues to be emotionally repressed, to the point Zuko, Ty Lee and Azula comment on it. However, Zuko's insecurity at her talking to Ruon-Jian to the point he physically removes him from her presence, and his accusative comments like "You like him, don't you?", also makes Mai feel a little boxed in, controlled, and that does irritated her given her history. However, at the Beach's emotional narrative climax, Mai is able to finally express herself at the rest of the group (Azula included) for the first time, telling them to "Leave her alone" and that she's "still mad". After Zuko explosively reveals the extent of his pain and confusion, we see a 'smoothing' effect on her attitude. She realises her and Zuko are dealing with pain in different ways and his way is understandable.

Mai says softly, "I know one thing I care about, I care about you". This is the one thing Mai can grasp in the confusion. This is where Mai betraying Azula becomes inevitable. We see Mai continue to be more supportive with Zuko, more actively trying to cheer him up in Nightmares and Daydreams with big smiles and jokes while Zuko remains shut down over the War meeting and is acting irritated and repressed due to his family trauma. When Zuko later leaves and joins the Avatar, Mai is hurt and angry, which shows in the Boiling Rock, saying "All I get is a letter? You could have at least looked me in the eye when you ripped out my heart". They have a tense conversation, but it's their most honest one. I actually think Mai already made up her mind in this scene to support Zuko over Azula, and she doesn't quite realise it. "Save it? You're betraying your country" she accuses, to which Zuko replies, resolute, "That's not how I see it", and in response Mai just folds her arms and turns her head away in an almost defeat.

I find it very telling she doesn't respond. It's because she realises Zuko is more passionate and resolute about his mission than she is hers. It's because she knows the Fire Nation under its current authority is not exactly great. Sometimes in life we fall into a box and we need someone to give us that little push so we can realise we can climb out of it, that the toxic space we're in isn't normal, and we don't have to tolerate it. I like to think Mai was thinking in that moment where Zuko locked her in the cell and he and she gazed into each others' eyes, what she was really thinking about was what life she actually wanted to live. She was thinking of Azula and being under her thumb, and she was thinking of all those moments with Zuko, like when they were lounging on the sofa together, smiling and joking in Nightmares & Daydreams, and she realised how ridiculous it was to be afraid of Azula killing her when the real fear should be being Azula's servant until her dying days, decades of repression and misery.

After all, what does Mai have left to fight for? Fear of Azula? Hah, what a joke. She remembers "I know one thing I care about. I care about you" and when she sees Zuko about to die she has to intervene.

"I guess you just don't know people as well as you think you do. You miscalculated. I love Zuko more than I fear you" Mai says to an increasingly-enraged Azula's speak of 'consequences', because Mai did fear Azula, but now in her love for Zuko she has found a purpose she has been lacking, her feelings and wants over Azula's will. Zuko being true to himself is contagious. Iroh's love for Zuko puts him on the right path, and in turn the love Mai has for Zuko saves her. As a consequence Ty Lee chooses Mai and their friendship over Azula's toxic, fear-based one and even later bonds with former enemies like the Kyoshi Warriors. Like Zuko says to Ozai, "an era of peace and kindness" will replace an "era of fear". In the face of fear, love and empathy win.