#notes that gave me physic damage

[rubys-domain]

just replayed baizhu's story quest. gets me every time

[the-conscious]

I am not and will never be in the business of burning myself to ash for the hateful. If you enter a discussion by being viciously hateful and self-righteous to boot, I am not going to be kind to you, I am not going to gently hold my hand and compose the hostility out of my voice. I'm not going to be a fucking saint while you're a rampaging monster, because that's fucking abysmal for my sanity and you aren't worth it if you're hateful. You just aren't, and you never will be until you clean up your act. And even then, I have too many things to do to hold your hand. I'll give you my words ONCE and if you double-down, I'm blocking without reading it. I write my one message with consideration that the chances I'll be listened to at that point are low, but I also know that my words orbit people's minds like angry bees. So you can let your ego get ahead of you, you can trip over my advisory and punch yourself in the face about it all you want.

But I won't be hurting myself for you.

If I let myself be burnt by every self-righteous prick that was hellbent on killing me because it bothered them that much that I asked them to care about other people, I wouldn't be here. If I let myself be burnt by half of them, I wouldn't be here. A quarter, a fifth, a tenth, a twentieth--I still wouldn't be here.

Turns out it really pisses people off when someone cares, and especially when they're loud about it.

They decide that I'm personally accusing them specifically of a global, collective problem and decide to refuse to grow about it, because I delivered imperfectly. So I don't try to deliver perfectly anymore, and if you hurt people I'm not going to be so careful as to make sure I don't give you a headache.

Hateful arguements are rarely unique in any way shape or form. The amount of times I've had to explain to a bigot (and, just fyi, there's a staggering increase in "woke" biggotry, so it's become increasingly normal to see tons of leftist labels in the description of somebody that spews fascist propaganda on the regular, as if it's different because they changed who the them in us vs. them is) that no, this opinion isn't new, and yes, I know vaguely where you got it and no, I'm not going to listen to you regurgitate something I've heard a million times and no, I'm not rude and ignoring your own personal opinion. It's not your personal opinion. It was a designed opinion that you just as millions of others were tricked somehow in to believing you made as if there wasn't hundreds of different things angling at you, nudging you in to that exact belief--which is precisely why it's not remotely unique. If you make this a personal moral thing you'll get nowhere except Worse.

What you give is what you get, so if I'm snapping at you you should be paying attention. You don't know me, or not yet, but I don't fucking snap at people who don't deserve it, and I'm not disproportionate with it either. If anything, I've been told a lot that I'm far, far too kind. And I agree. But unfortunately that's the only way to make anyone grow up at all, because at the point that you're hurting people and refusing to listen you sure as shit aren't going to listen to a "please" despite how much some of you will throw around insults, and slurs, and vitriol, and wishes of violence. You beg for a perfect saviour and attack anyone for having the slightest bit of care for anyonelse; use their imperfection as a further reason to attack them.

So next time you wonder where all the nice people went, Try looking in the mirror, and asking yourself what needs to change.

Either you've been a massive prick, resulting in you being surrounded by massive pricks, or you found yourself stuck in a pattern that kept you surrounded by them, at which point it becomes inevitable that you become worse because why wouldn't you?

You have to survive, don't you?

Keep bad company, become bad company. Be bad company, make bad company.

Ignore reality, don't learn from it. Run away from reality, fail to fix problems.

If a problem won't go away it's because you don't have the complete solution, perhaps none of the "right" solution at all. If you're constantly miserable, and argueing, and don't know why nobody's hearing you?

You're not doing what you need to be doing.

Somebody with the right words will do what you're trying to do. And if they aren't, then it's just because it wasn't the thing to do. And that's fine. We all make mistakes. A lot of the time they're unavoidable mistakes that are unfair to claim are individual. But it's still our jobs to fix it, so if you keep sabotaging the movement to heal, to fix things, and then you bitch that you're being left out of the help...hm...

Consider that you're asking for something more expensive than you seem to think, and actively increasing the cost every time you're difficult, mean, violent, and we have to put our sanity on the line in order to teach you anything at all--unpaid, to boot. Unrecognised, to boot. And insufficiently supported, too.

[loonylupinblack3]

This Isn't Over

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: toxic!rafe, swearing, physical alteration, hints to domestic violence

Summary: you accidently spend the night at your friends house and Rafe has something to say about it

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: more rafe 🤭🤭 this one has him being a little (😬) toxic so be warned!!

You’d fallen asleep at John B’s house. You knew that because it was barely 8am and your phone was ringing its head off, a sleuth of calls and messages lighting up your screen. You let out a groan, rolling over on the pull out mattress in John B’s living room, untangling yourself from Kiara whose limbs were spread out like an eagle on the bed, and picked up your phone.

Your eyes were bleary as you blinked at the screen, already knowing who was sending you all these messages. Like you’d expected, you saw Rafe’s name all over your phone, missed calls and countless messages lining up your home screen.

You’d made the mistake of telling Rafe of your plans to visit John B and his friends last night. You’d had a good relationship with them a couple months ago but had started to drift apart when you and Rafe started seeing each other. Wanting to remedy that, you’d all planned a bit of a party, just between friends, to catch up.

Rafe hadn’t been happy when he found out. At first he told you not to go, adamantly raving about how crazy John B and his sister were. When you informed him you would be going, because they were your friends and you’d known them way before Rafe started disliking them, he made you promise two things to him. One, that you wouldn’t drink, and two, that he’d be able to see you the next morning.

Looking around with groggy eyes and noting the many empty beer cans, you realised belatedly that you’d broken both your promises.

“Shit,” you mumbled, sitting upright and rubbing your eyes.

JJ gave a groan from the mattress a few steps away. “I will smash whoever’s phone that is if they don’t shut it up right now.”

You gave a sheepish smile even though he couldn’t see you, noticing the other’s restlessness too. “Sorry guys, my bad. Rafe’s just texting me.”

That caught their attention, JJ sitting upright immediately and the others stirring into separate states of awareness. You winced; you should have known better than to mention Rafe, because for all that your boyfriend didn’t like them, your friends disliked him more.

“What’s got him so riled up?” John B asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

You cleared your throat, trying to grab your bearings as you looked around for your shoes. “Oh, I was just supposed to meet him this morning and forgot so…”

Pope raised his eyebrows. “So he’s blowing up your phone? And why were you supposed to meet him at-” Pope checked his watch. “-8:07am?”

You hesitated. “Well, I didn’t set a time, it's just he wasn’t expecting me to sleep over so he probably came early to see me and found me missing.”

Sarah gave you a look, probably the most tired out of all of them but still in her right mind enough to tell you, “that’s like, a walking red flag.”

You laughed slightly, though it was forced. “He just cares. Speaking of, I should probably, y’know, answer his texts.”

There were mumbles and mutterings but no one spoke against you as you looked at your phone, reading the most recent texts from Rafe.

Where are you?

Why aren’t you home?

Did you stay at John B’s for the night? You better not have had anything

What the fuck Y/n. Where are you?

I’m coming to John B’s

Shit. Rafe couldn’t come here. There were so many ill feelings with him in the mix and you didn’t want anything to unfold between him and your friends. 

You texted him back hastily but he didn’t reply, telling you he was already on the way. Shit. 

“He’s coming here?!” Kiaria read, leaning over your shoulder. You were quick to hide your phone but the damage had already been done, all of your friends certainly wide awake now.

JJ let out a disbelieving shock. “Wait, wait, Rafe Cameron is coming here? Did I get that right?”

You cringed. “Um. Kind of? But I’ll meet him outside, you guys won’t have to see him at all-”

Rapid pounding on the door cut you off. You saw Sarah pale and couldn’t help but feel guilty. How fast had Rafe driven to get here?!

“John B,” Rafe called through the door. “John B open up.”

It was as if a switch had been flipped. Instead of your friend John B who teased you and begrudgingly accepted your choice in boyfriend, it was John B who hated Rafe, a dark look in his eyes as his hands curled into fists by his side. No one spoke. “I know you’re in there!” Rafe’s voice got louder; he was shouting by now. “Where’s Y/n? What’d you do, huh? You hurt her? Because I swear to God if you did-”

John B was up and striding to the front door before any of you could stop him. He was like a man possessed, his usual calm persona replaced with an indescribable anger that could only come from countless bad experiences.

He opened the door with a slam, barely avoiding hitting Rafe who didn’t look pleased with the fact. “You think I’d hurt Y/n? She’s my best friend.”

Rafe let out a low scoff, and you could tell he was pissed just by the tone of his voice. You loathed to see the anger on his face. “I wouldn’t put it past you. Where is she?”

John B seemed to still be stuck on the fact Rafe thought so low of him. “I’ve known her since we were four,” he argued. 

“You’re a Pogue,” was Rafe’s immediate response.

“She’s a Pogue!”

Rafe was silent for a moment. “Where is she?”

“No, let’s go back to the fact you think I’d be the one to hurt her-”

“Where is she?!”

You heard the sounds of a skirmish and immediately went for the door, as did the rest of your friends. You should have gone earlier but didn’t want to have to be in the middle of whatever had been going on with Rafe and John B.

When you turned the corner you saw Rafe and John B wrestling. Rafe must have tried to get in and John B forcefully stopped him, which led to John B pinned against the wall with Rafe’s arm pressing on his throat. They were both glaring at each other, wearing similar expressions of loathing on their faces. Rafe looked like an entirely different person, a hint of something wild and scary hidden in his eyes.

“Rafe, stop.”

At the sound of your voice Rafe paused, the pressure on John B’s throat lessening. He turned to look at you, his whole face softening at the sight. There was a look of relief on his face that had guilt eating at you as he took his arm away from John B’s throat, the boy coughing as fresh air entered his lungs.

“Y/n,” Rafe breathed, taking a few steps towards you.

Until your other friends took a step forward, crowding you behind them. The same hostility took over his face, the wild look you’d seen in his eyes increased, his pupils dilating slightly.

“I’m fine,” you whispered frantically to your friends. “Seriously. Let him through.”

You admired your friend's loyalty. It warmed your heart to see them caring about you that much, even when faced with this quite frankly terrifying version of Rafe you hadn’t experienced. It was misplaced though, because Rafe would never hurt you.

They reluctantly did as you said, JJ needing some hasling from Kiaria before moving away. And as soon as they did the softness was back in Rafe’s expression and he was in front of you, wrapping you in a tight hug, hands holding you as close as possible to him as he kissed the top of your head.

“You alright?” he murmured into your hair.

You nodded into his chest, his comfort sinking into your very bones. Rafe seemed to act the same, his tense posture relaxing as he held you in his arms, inhaling your scent and letting the comforting smell of you calm him down.

He pulled back suddenly, a hint of irritation on his face. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

You looked down guiltily, feeling like a child being reprimanded by a teacher. “I was asleep.”

“Here?”

You flinched at the stern tone of his voice. “Yeah…”

“Did you drink?” When you didn’t answer him he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Did. You. Drink?”

“That’s enough man,” JJ spoke, stepping forward again.

Rafe shot him a dirty look. “Stay out of this Maybank.”

“No I’m serious, stop manhandling her,” he insisted, gesturing to Rafe’s fingers still curled around your chin.

“Don’t tell me what to do with my own girlfriend, you pathetic little Pogue,” Rafe hissed.

You let out a gasp, pulling away from your boyfriend. “What the fuck Rafe? Don’t call him that!”

Rafe turned his murderous expression on you, and for a second it stayed murderous, causing a sense of unease to start churning in your gut. It lessened to irritation but you couldn’t get the anger of his previous expression out of your mind, the feeling that in that moment he would have done anything to get his way.

“Y/n-” he started, a hint of frustration in his voice, but JJ didn’t even let him finish.

He moved forward, placing his hand on your stomach to gently guide you behind him. You only let him because of your sudden hesitance around your boyfriend, but this seemed to only make his mood worse.

“Get your hands off my fucking girlfriend.” Rafe surged forward and you let out a gasp, barely moving in time as the two men toppled to the ground, fists being thrown and legs kicking. You were screaming at them to stop but neither man listened to you. John B finally managed to pry Rafe away, only for your boyfriend to immediately turn to him.

You ran into the middle of it before he could, and you swear to God even after recognising you for a second there you were sure he was still going to go for the hit. He managed to restrain himself, however, and said through very gritted teeth, “Y/n, get out of the way.”

You stood your ground, refusing to budge. “Stop hurting my friends.”

He scoffed, looking at you like you were a naive child. “Friends? You consider them friends, Y/n? You can’t trust them. They don’t care about you like I do. No one does. The only person you can trust is me.”

“You sound fucking psycho man,” JJ sneered, blood running from his probably broken nose. He wiped it away as he spoke, smearing it over his face.

“Mind your damn business,” Rafe snapped. He turned to you, grabbing your arm almost desperately. “Let’s just go, yeah baby? We’ll leave, and forget this shit ever happened.”

He started leading you out of the house and you let him, until you were standing in the doorway with him out of the building, which was when you stopped, taking your arm away from him. Rafe looked at you questioningly. 

“I’m gonna stay here for a while longer, Rafe.”

You watched him still, hands flex before curling into tight fists, his jaw clenched. 

“What?” that one word, so quiet you could barely hear it, filled you with overwhelming dread. You’d never heard this tone before, this quiet, deadly tone. He was always explosively angry. This felt like the calm before the storm.

“I’m going to stay here,” you forced yourself to say, grateful your voice came out even.

Rafe took a deep breath, thoughts spinning in his head, before giving a yell and kicking the empty bottles on the steps of the porch, causing the glass to smash and shatter. “Are you serious right now? Are you fucking serious Y/n?! After everything I’ve done for you? You were a dirty fucking Pogue before me that no one wanted to touch. I made you into something and you repay me by doing this?!”

He was yelling. Screaming. Eyes full of rage focused solely on you as he moved forward to grab you. Your friends were quicker, John B, JJ, Pope all standing in front of you. Kiara and Sarah both grabbed each of your hands, giving you the support you so desperately needed.

“Time to go, Rafe,” John B said, voice low. “You can’t take on all of us.”

Rafe knew he was right. You could see him, the fight in him not so much deflating as it was changing, realising he wasn’t going to win by brute force alone. He looked at you behind your friends, a frightening anger in his eyes. What was worse was you could see through it, to the sickening desperation underneath, the knowledge that he needed you ringing in your head.

You dropped your gaze, guilt and fear warring inside you. Rafe let out a low scoff, hurt and disbelief coating it. You heard footsteps and risked looking up, finding Rafe leaving the porch. At the edge he turned back though, eyes finding you immediately, and spoke in a low, almost threatening tone before leaving without another glance:

“This isn’t over.”

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: dad!Jaehyun x fem!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Poly!ilichil. Angst! Daddy kink. Unprotected vaginal sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Cock warming themes. Pregnancy kink(?). Pregnancy. Emotional damage for Jaehyun stans.. <3

| wc: 4.7k

| aurora's note: ....you know..... i had this in the drafts of my poly!ilichil x oc book back in august.............. i feel like i unknowingly manifested this... sorry... um.. little bit of context you need is y/n and poly!ilichil already have a daughter together, her name is Reyna, and they all agreed to not know who her biological father is. i didn't want to change too much from my original story... sorry..

You didn’t want to talk about it. Not for a single second. About two months ago, Jaehyun sat everyone down in the living room with the life and color drained from his face, his hands fidgeting with each other as he paced back and forth in front of the TV for a good two minutes before Doyoung begged him to stop and just say what was on his mind. Jaehyun immediately froze, turned, and spit out, “I auditioned for the military band a couple of weeks ago.” The room went still. “I got accepted today. I’ve decided to go early, in November, just to get it out of the way, so that Taeyong and I can come back together to look after Reyna, instead of all of us just going one at a time.” That didn’t make any sense— That made it worse! Everyone expected that it would be one at a time, making it easier to share the load of running such a big house while having a little one running around. How the hell was it helpful to have him leave early— Two years early, by the way. So you decided you didn’t want to hear it, so you got up to leave with the excuse of going to take care of the baby, while the others sat in silence, staring at Jaehyun with shock.

It took a few days before you could look at him again. He tried to talk to you about it, wanting to explain himself and the fact that he was going into the military band so that he would have ample opportunity to visit, probably with Taeyong too, just to cheer you up. But you didn’t want to hear it. There was a crying baby in your room, begging for her dad, and you wondered what you were going to do with him gone… Yeah, there were the others. Of course they would always help out. But Jaehyun had a special touch with your daughter that put her to sleep whenever she was fussy or made her giggle whenever she was scared after a silly nightmare. There were times when you couldn’t help her but he could. How could he leave her?

“Let me feed her so you can rest,” Jaehyun begged from outside the door one afternoon when he heard her crying because she was hungry and you were grumpy while bouncing her in your arms, trying to get her to calm down. You gave in. The door opened, and Jaehyun took your daughter in his arms with a smile and a happy coo that instantly cheered her up. “Hi, my sweet girl. Let’s get you something to eat so you can nap with your mom.”

While he left with the baby, you crashed in bed, finally able to take a nap for the first time in a few days. The other boys tried to help out and get you to rest, but you had locked yourself away ever since Jaehyun said he was leaving— You didn’t want their help, because who could you trust? Next thing you’d know, Doyoung would be surprising you with his early enlistment, too… And maybe Jungwoo would follow suit… You didn’t dare to dream that Hyuck would leave you, too, but the concern lingered in the back of your mind. Jaehyun had flipped your whole world upside down, and you hated him for it.

By the time you were able to look him in the eyes again, the boys returned to their schedules of taking turns looking after the baby, and Johnny was cooking meals for a silent household since everyone was walking on eggshells around you. They’d just gotten their daughter back, no one wanted to start another argument that would have you retreating into your bedroom again. But Jaehyun observed you closely. Physically, he was at a distance, but his eyes followed you, like he was expecting you to say something to him. And you did.

“Mark and Haechan won’t even be here to see you off.”

Everyone in the kitchen went to a standstill.

“Reyna and I can’t go either.” If people took pictures of you, a random lady, holding a baby at his enlistment ceremony, the internet would’ve burned to the ground with speculation that would’ve flushed down the drain years of hard work keeping your relationship a secret.

Doyoung shifted uncomfortably on his seat while switching Reyna to his left arm to cradle her as he ate his breakfast that Johnny made.

“You’ll miss so much… Her first steps… Maybe her first words too…”

Yuta put his clean plate in the sink for Jungwoo to wash. Johnny turned off the stove before taking his own plate filled with eggs and sausage to his seat at the table. However, no one else moved or spoke until you stood, your plate still untouched, and left to go to your room.

Another two days later, there was a knock at your door, followed by Jaehyun cautiously peeking in to see if you’d send him away after throwing a pillow or something more… damaging than that. To his surprise, when you didn’t object to his appearance, he entered completely, closing the door behind him before slowly sitting on the corner of your bed. Reyna was napping in Mark’s room because he was trying to make the most out of seeing her before he and Haechan had to go back on tour in Europe for a whole month.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, baby.”

You stared at him, hoping that if you didn’t move and kept your breathing steady that you wouldn’t fall apart and start crying.

“But I am going—”

You gulped, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“—and I hope that you’ll support my decision in time.” He bit his lip and played with his hands anxiously. “I know I’m going to miss out on a lot with Reyna, and the rest of you too. It kills me that I might not be here for her first steps, or when she’s teething and keeping you all up every night, or when she says her first words… But I’d rather give up some of that than give up her first day at preschool where she makes her first real friends, or when she gets her first stupid playground crush on some stupid kid who doesn’t deserve her a single bit.” Both of you chuckled quietly. “I want her to know that I’m her dad. If I leave now, she won’t know, and by the time I come back, she’ll learn who I am and always know that I’m her dad, and that I’m never going anywhere ever again. That’s the choice I’ve made. To be remembered by her, and to experience other things with her, I have to give up some of the other stuff now—”

Jaehyun was caught off guard when you threw the covers off your body and immediately leaned forward, putting your weight on your knees, so that you could kiss him gently. It took him a few seconds to snap out of his trance and reciprocate your kiss. His hands caressed your cheeks, fingers tickling your earlobes, his lips and tongue fighting for dominance.

But then he pulled away for air. His gaze was lowered in shame as he whispered, “I don’t want to fight these next few weeks. Can we just… Can we try to have fun? Be normal?”

“I’d like that.”

With a sigh of relief, Jaehyun pulled you on top of him while he simultaneously shifted to sit more comfortably on the bed. He cradled you close to him, like he was afraid to ever let go. In return, you held onto him, fingers tangling in his hair, your forehead pressed against his temple, staring at his dimples that Reyna and Jungwoo liked to play with— Everyone joked that was the one thing she must’ve inherited from Jungwoo, her uncanny obsession with Jae’s dimples and smile lines. And so the two of you stayed like that for what could’ve been hours on end. Every so often, Jaehyun would shift slightly beneath you, kissing you, rubbing your back comfortingly, whispering words of praise and affirmation. When he asked if he could spend the night in your room with you and Reyna, you replied with a nod. Then when Mark returned with Reyna, you took her while Jaehyun laid with his back against the headboard of your bed, his legs spread wide enough for you to sit comfortably between them while your back was resting against his stomach, both of you staring down at your daughter, watching as she slept so soundly knowing that her dad was there.

As promised, you and Jaehyun acted like things were normal. You didn’t want to talk about him enlisting. He didn’t want to upset you. The rest of the house was terrified of setting you off again. So things went on like there wasn’t a doom’s day clock in the back of their minds, counting down the days until November 4th. Mark and Haechan seemed content with the decision to pretend like nothing was wrong because it made their quick stay at home between tours go easier, like how they went out to lunch with Jae almost every other day, and the three of them would play with Reyna in the living room whenever she had a lot of energy in the bouncer Hyuck bought for her.

The evenings were reserved for you and Jae. It started innocent at first, casually cuddling together and watching a TV show he’d been dying to cross off his list for a while. But then he asked you out on a date. Of course those weren’t uncommon in the house— But you going out in public with them was next to impossible, so it struck you as odd that Jaehyun would want to run the risk of a scandal so close to his enlistment… Then again, who were you to deny him? You wanted to savor every moment with him that you could, so against your better judgment, you said yes, letting him spoil you to an entire date night out and about.

During the drive home, Jaehyun’s hand was placed high on your thigh while he massaged it fairly roughly although it was mindless so you didn’t care to stop him. He was distracting you, though. While you tried to admire the city out your window while listening to some of his music, his fingers on the inside of your leg, his cold rings against your skin, his big palm threatening to slide under your dress… You wondered if he had other intentions. He seemed preoccupied with the road while humming along to the music, but his hands seemed to be in a different world from the rest of him.

When you pulled up to the house, Jaehyun ran around the car once it was off so that he could open your door before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt. With a wide grin plastered across his face, Jae took your hand and led you inside, switching to caress the small of your back possessively as you entered the living room to find the boys playing a Mario Kart tournament— Jungwoo, Mark, Haechan, and Johnny were playing  while Yuta bounced Reyna in his arms.

Despite Jaehyun’s obvious attempts to rush you up to his bedroom, Johnny paused the game when Mark stopped the two of you with an innocent question about how your date went. Jaehyun gave a quick, half-assed reply of, “Good,” before trying to corral you again; However, you stayed to tell them about everything the two of you did. He took you to a fancy restaurant that many celebrities took all their “hidden treasures” to because of the staff’s reliable secrecy, and the fact that all the patrons were there with someone they didn’t want to be spotted with, so no one was going to snitch. After dinner, Jae drove you two around Seoul for a bit, going up some of the mountains to the look outs before driving back down to look at the city that was buzzing with nightlife.

“It was lots of fun, yes,” Jaehyun admitted with an impatient smile. “Now, if you don’t mind, she and I are going to be busy for the rest of the night.”

Hyuck looked up. “Can I join?”

“No.”

With that, Jaehyun took his hand in yours then dragged you up to his room which was second on the left, putting him between Johnny and Yuta. The door slammed shut behind the two of you once you entered. Jaehyun immediately pushed you up against the wall, his hands pinning you with nowhere to escape to as his lips began attacking yours.

“I want another one,” he muttered between kisses.

“What?”

“A baby…” He took off your dress and bra. “I want another baby.” His hands began running over your stomach. “Want the boys to send me pictures of you while I’m gone…” He left a big hickey on your neck, forcing you to hiss at the pain. “Want to know that I did it this time… That I have something to look forward to when I come back.”

You fiddled with the buckle of his pants while he latched onto a nipple. “Won’t you be sad, though?”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t be here…”

“I’ll come back and visit every chance I get.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You pushed his pants and boxers down to his ankles. He stood and took off his shirt. With your hand suddenly jerking off his hard cock, you whispered in his ear something wanton about wanting to have another baby with him, and that set Jaehyun off. He used his strength to pick you up and prop you against the wall while he replaced your hand with his own so that he could line his tip up with your wet entrance. He chuckled in your ear. It was pathetic that all he did was touch your leg in the car and beg you for a baby and suddenly you were dripping wet for him. But that was Jaehyun. He was sexually appealing just by existing, how could you not be turned on just by the mere sight of him?

Jaehyun truly wasted no time pushing into you. His hold on your body never wavered, fingers digging roughly into the undersides of your thighs so that he could support you while fucking into you at an unrelenting pace. You knew that he’d been pent up for a little bit. Ever since “the conversation”, Jaehyun hadn’t gotten laid by anyone in the house, and that was difficult for him since he was the type of guy to relieve stress by sticking his dick in something, but since you were pissed off, you didn’t entertain him, and the boys were keeping their distance too. Jaehyun had a lot of pent up energy. Between wanting to fuck-out some of his feelings and wanting to have another baby, there was really no reason for him to hold back. So he gave you everything he had.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he continued to piston in and out of you, strangled grunts reverberating from him every time he hit your clit with his unshaved pubic bone. Even though you were trying not to think about the inevitable, it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his long hair between your fingers and under your palms as you tugged on him to force him to kiss you. Jaehyun did so eagerly, his tongue immediately claiming dominance that you always so willingly handed over to him. With your legs wrapped around his small waist, Jaehyun spun, his cock still inside of you, and he set you on the bed before immediately going back to fucking you. There wasn’t a single moment of reprieve where you could catch your breath. He had a goal in mind, and there was no reality in which he wasn’t going to fill you to the brim with load after load throughout the entire night. Who knew taking silly risks like going out in public together would get him so riled up.

“My good girl,” he cooed lovingly in your ear, “taking my cock so well.” He sucked at your neck to leave a hickey while you whimpered and bucked your hips up into him. “So eager to be filled.”

“Please, Jae—”

His grip on your body tightened threateningly.

“Please, daddy!”

Jaehyun moaned against your skin, one his hands drifting between your bodies to rub your clit as a reward for being good, calling him the name he loved so much. The fingers working on your clit suddenly stopped. You whined, squirming beneath him, desperate for the pleasurable friction to return, but Jae held you still.

“Don’t move.”

You complained with a pout, “Daddy…”

“I know, baby girl, don’t worry, I’ll let you cum. I gotta cum first, though… Then—” He slammed into you roughly. “Then you’ll cum to make sure you take in every drop. Got it?”

You nodded eagerly. “Every drop.”

“Good girl.”

His muscular body swallowed you whole as he put all his weight on the bed, his long hair falling in his face while he kissed you passionately, his legs forcing yours to stay spread wide while his cock stretched you wide, his tip making you wince because it felt like it wa kissing your cervix over and over and over again. He was being a bully. He had you pinned to the point you were immobile, left paralyzed to his will and the chorus of moans the two of you were letting out with every thrust.

“I’m getting close, princess. Shit.” Jaehyun put even more of his weight on you while his hips made shallow thrusts rather than having your hole suck in every single inch each time. “Be good and take my cum.” A final, pornographic grunt set Jaehyun over the edge. His hands squeezing your waist for dear life, his lips pressed to yours, his saliva mixing with yours. “Good girl,” he mumbled.

As he thrusted a few more times to ride out his high, Jaehyun pushed himself upright, moving his weight to his knees so that he had a clear view of your wet cunt which he decided had suffered enough and deserved to finally have an orgasm. His fingers returned to your clit. Both of you moaned when your walls tightened around his cock, pulling in his cum, which only egged him on— All of his focus was trained on making you cum with his big cock still buried inside of you. Jaeahyun was admittedly somewhat of a master with his fingers. Now that he had his sights set on his text task of forcing an orgasm out of you, his skillful fingers rubbed your sensitive nub at a fast pace but in various directions and patterns so that the stimulation was constant and overwhelming, turning you into nothing but moans and pleas for him to have some mercy on you. However, one of Jaehyun’s hands didn’t waver from your hip. He kept you as still as he could while your stomach twisted into knots, his cock all too noticeable. He seemed to know what you were thinking.

He grinned ear to ear and moved his palm from your hip to the bottom of your stomach, pressing on it slightly before he slowly moved his cock. “Feel me, princess? I’m right… here…” And then he pressed his thumb down.

“Oh, fuck— Jae— Daddy— Please!”

“Please, what?”

“Please let me cum!”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

You let go within an instant, your body fighting against his hold, your hands desperately clinging to the sheets and his hand that was torturing your overstimulated clit.

“Keep fucking my cock like that, princess. Just like that. So fucking good—”

He threw his head back as he twitched inside of you, another load flooding into you as your own high faded. The two of you were just trading orgasms. He was the worst.

Jaehyun finally loosened his grip and removed his fingers from your throbbing clit. Both of you slumped, but he didn’t pull out of you, instead he reached over for a pillow that he slid under your hips to keep them elevated before he rolled his thumbs over your hardened nipples for fun.

“I’ve got another few rounds in me,” he told you. You looked at him with exhausted, heavy eyes. He was glowing with energy, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his toned abs extending and clenching as he panted, his muscular thighs twitching when he shifted his weight around to sink into you again. “Be good and keep your legs open for me, okay?”

You nodded, “Yes, daddy,” surrendering to his will for the rest of the night.

Every day after that, Jaehyun would find a rhyme or a reason to have one of the other boys look after Reyna while he fucked you for hours on end in his bedroom. Balls deep in you, he’d always mumble things about knocking you up, having another baby, leaving you with a parting gift. For whatever reason, you didn’t take him seriously. You played into it, moaning that you wanted him to fill you up, to give you a baby… Why you never expected that it would actually happen was beyond you. Nearly three weeks straight he was fucking you into his mattress in every position imaginable. Loads and loads of his cum seeped out of you, day and night, while you were sitting at the dining table eating meals, or while you were cuddled with one of the other boys for movie night. You were an idiot to not seriously think about the consequences.

That was until the dreaded D-Day everyone’d been avoiding for so long.

Watching him from the open doorway of his bedroom, you could see that Jaehyun had pretty much everything ready to go. His hair was already cut short— Shorter than you liked, and they all knew that after the Taeyong debacle in April where Jungwoo had to apologize profusely to you for two weeks straight. His room was in perfect condition, everything was put away neatly, his clothes that were remaining at home were hung up in the closet or neatly folded in his drawers— Even though you said you would keep his clothes fresh so that he would have things to wear when he’d visit. On his desk, there was a stack of letters which you could see had Reyna’s name addressed on the front, along with dates for every week until his discharge. She wouldn’t be able to read them, but he probably expected you or one of the boys to read them to her in his stead. That hurt too much to consider. You didn’t want to think about all the ways he’d poured his heart out for her in those letters, and how you would have to say them out loud like you weren’t suffering without him, that you didn’t miss him every second he was gone.

You gathered the courage to ignore the letters so that you could finally knock on his door with a quiet sniffle. Jaehyun quickly glanced at you to see who was visiting before he returned to his packing. His suitcase was nearly full, there were just a few last minute clothes and toiletries he needed to stuff inside.

“Hi, baby girl. Come in.”

As you stepped forward and sniffled again, Jaehyun looked over his shoulder at you, then once he noticed the tears pooling in your eyes, he stopped packing and turned to you completely.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, baby. Of course.”

Jaehyun sat next to his suitcase on the bed so that he could pull you sideways onto his lap. “What’s got my baby girl all upset, huh?” He wiped away one of your tears. “I’ll be back in a few weeks—”

“Please don’t leave. Please. I’ll do anything to keep you here, just don’t leave us.”

Jae sighed and kissed your cheek, leaving his lips pressed against you while he thought for a minute. “I’m so sorry, baby, I have to go, you know that.”

You started crying even harder, clinging onto his black sweatshirt, babbling more pathetic pleas for him to not leave. He just kept saying how sorry he was between your sobs. There was no reasoning with him, the same way there was no reasoning with you. He decided that he was leaving. You decided that you couldn’t accept that. The two of you were at a standstill in which his pride and honor was winning against your emotional argument. He knew that it wasn’t easy for you to let go, so he tried to just ease your mind only slightly about seeing him off for training at the least… That still wasn’t good enough for you.

“I’m pregnant, Jae.”

He froze underneath you. “What?” he croaked.

“I took tests ‘cause I was late, and given the last few weeks, I was suspicious…”

One of his hands drifted over your stomach. “Is it mine?”

“Of course it’s yours, stupid. You wanted a baby so bad, so I didn’t sleep with any of the others the past few weeks… Of course they’re fucking yours. That’s why I can’t let you leave.”

He chuckled happily before kissing you passionately, his smile sticking to your lips. The idiot was over the moon with excitement while you were crying on his lap like a wounded puppy that had been ditched on the side of the road. That was practically what he was doing to you. Leaving you early. Leaving you on the side of the road to fend for yourself. Meanwhile he was laughing to himself, mumbling things about how happy he was, that he was relieved you were having another baby— His baby. It was exactly what he wanted, so of course the fucker was satisfied with himself. 

“Please, Jae. For us, don’t leave.”

His smile faded and his eyes fell shut. “I wish I could stay… But we both knew that even if this happened, I’d still have to leave, princess.”

He tried to comfort you with a million different promises that honestly went in one ear and out the other. He would visit every single break he was given. He would be there when the baby would be born, same with Taeyong. It would be a bit longer until Doyoung or Jungwoo would enlist, so you would have them by your side through everything, keeping you company whenever he couldn’t. Everything was going to be okay. He was going to be okay—

“I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“I know he’s a boy.” Jaehyun’s touch drifted back and forth slowly. “I’ve had dreams for the past few weeks that we’d have a boy.” Finally, his hands left your stomach to reach up and cup your face gently while he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. “We’re gonna be okay, princess. When have I ever lied to you?” You couldn’t reply, you just tucked into his touch affectionately. “I love you.”

You fisted the dense fabric of his sweatshirt in your hand to keep him close to your body. “I love you, too.”

“It’s time to go,” Johnny said from the doorway where he must have been watching and eavesdropping like you were minutes prior.

Jae sighed anxiously. “Okay, just give me a second to throw the rest of my stuff in my bag.”

“Yuta’s got Reyna downstairs for you.”

He nodded. “Thanks, hyung.”

After Johnny left, you slid off Jaehyun’s lap reluctantly so that he could finish packing while he quietly explained the letters for Reyna on his desk, how he wanted one of you to read a  letter to her once a week, every week until his return. He didn’t care if she wouldn’t remember anything in the letters. His words meant something, and he was eager to come home to her… and to you. He said that last part after zipping his bag shut and turning to face you while holding it. Eighteen months. He’d be back in eighteen months. There’d be so much to look forward to in that time, like all of Reyna’s milestones, and having another baby. He implored you to send him as many updates as possible, just so he was in-the-know and had keepsakes to get him through those eighteen months. And all you got in return was one last “I love you,” as he left the house with only a small handful of the boys to head to his enlistment ceremony.

another aurora's note: sending all the valentines love and support <3 he'll be back before we know it. my asks are always open if you want to talk.

[yandereunsolved]

🐉 ✧ Yandere Aemond Targaryen ✧ 🐉(part 2)

With you, this has been Aemond's only safe place since you were hired when he was but a child, and so were you. He would see you following the other maids and workers around like a lost duckling, constantly tripping over yourself, and failing at the simplest tasks. You grew proficient over time, but that didn't stop the harassment that came from young Aegon and the others. He had to become blinded in one eye to truly see you.

He thought you foolish at first. He pitied your futile attempts to reject Aegon's advances. Your education was nonexistent, and your manners only the minimum. You had not the physical strength of the guard nor the cunning that every power-hungry noble possessed. You did have two things that made you worth his time: your curiosity and comfort.

You didn't gasp in horror after his horrific disfiguration. You didn't scold him for not being wise or mighty enough to win the battle of being ambushed. Chastising him was not within the rights of your station, but many below him still did. Perhaps that is why he was so surprised when you were the only maid who offered to change his bandages and report to the maesters on his healing.

As you got bolder in his care, you dared to lightly caress the scar with the pad of your thumb. He would never admit how embarrassed he felt that you had taken such a liking to him. You seemed so content with the fact that he was now damaged goods. What lady would want a man with such a deformity?

You even gave him a porcelain eye for his socket as a gift. It wasn't the best made, but it was the most you could afford. You spent half of your weekly wages on such a thing. Aemond could feel a fiery sensation rising in his gullet. His fingers caressing the porcelain and meekly thanking you before dismissing you back to your duties.

He never wore the gift, as it wasn't what he had truly hoped for. Even as a sapphire remained in his empty socket, he always kept that glass eye in a wooden box right next to his bedside. He sat up many nights with pathetic droplets of sadness rolling down his pale face while clutching the object. He couldn't be strong all alone, but your token of good faith helped him get through his darkest hours.

That is when his courtship of you truly began. It was subtle. He had grown into a young man, and you had grown to be a fine worker within the walls of the Red Keep. Many would be suspicious if he always asked for you to care for him and do your duties near his room instead of having to traverse all throughout the castle.

He would leave you small gifts, like how a dragon will offer dead beasts to its rider as a sign of affection. They would be flowers from the gardens, trinkets, and silk cloths. Small notes of words that are translated into High Valyrian. "'Avy Jorrāelan', it means I love you in High Valyrian. I am sure your lips are sweeter than any pastry the finest chefs could bake." The short notes became increasingly violent and lewd over time. "One day, I will kill every man who has touched you who is not me. I will ravage you atop their dead corpses, and you will see their blood mixing in with my spilled seed." You stopped reading them. So he switched to another tactic. 

He had you carry his gear when he went to ride Vhagar. He introduced you to her, and she loved you just as he did. He could see it in her eyes. He's never seen the savage beast look so at peace. Vhagar went as far as to gently grab ahold of your clothing and tear at it. It caused you to become fearful and hide behind Aemond, but there was a certain mischief behind his dragon's actions.

"My prince, I fear your dragon dislikes me." You mutter so softly that his ears are barely able to pick the words up.

"I think she is very fond of you. If she hated you, then she would have eaten you already." There was an air of amusement present in his voice that you haven't ever heard before.

"Should I take comfort in that?" You inquired while a bit confused about this peculiar situation.

"You should."

"I shall, then. She is your dragon, and you know her best. You always end up being right about these things—I mean you are extremely intelligent. You are just always able to figure these things out. Your good looks and charm help to. I—" You felt you said too much and shut your mouth.

Aemond learned to tease you in such a way that would get you to spill these thoughts of yours. He did it so shamelessly. He made sure those bastards knew you were taken through his method. He almost kissed you just to prove that neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys would ever be able to lay a hand on you. He didn't have to worry about Aegon anymore. His drunk of a brother learned well not to trifle with you after he gave him a broken nose and a bloodied lip. If anyone dared upset you, especially those not his kin, well, they have particularly gruesome deaths.

All of this and you thought him mostly indifferent to you. None of the most twisted emotions ever rose to the surface when he was around you. He always waited until in private. He knew he had to keep you in his clutches. He couldn't scare you away quite yet. 

"Dear?"

"Me?" You squeak in surprise.

Aemond tucks a dragon's breath flower behind your ear as you turn to face him. No words escape him. Only a contented smirk appears. Before you have an opportunity to question him, he walks off. How strange. You gently adjust the flower in your hair. It makes you oddly giddy. 

"How cute." You murmur.

Aemond heard your words. He couldn't wait for the morrow. He will take you back to Vhagar and confess his love. He will offer you to become his spouse. His mother surely wouldn't be happy, but he would. And if the worst comes, he will burn down all of Westeros just to be with you.

[bbanghiitomi]

BORROWED TIME

pairing: idol!khaerin x nj6thmem!fem!reader

trope: first love! angst with comfort! eventual fluff!

haerin sighed for the thousandth time, she realized just how tiring it was to keep sighing - ridiculous, haerin thought as she stared at herself at the mirror. how weird has this day been? she doesn't know, it's always been weird ever since y/n came back from the hospital, the doctors said she was fine, the blow she got on her head when she had an accident during one of their intensive trainings didn't physically damage her. to haerin, it was kind of hard to believe, how could such a huge blow not do any damage? it had to hurt so much, right?

oh well, y/n's charts that her physician provided didn't seem to show any anomalies...

she told herself not to think too much about it, but that's what haerin does best. she can't stop thinking about y/n, she stayed at the hospital for almost 3 months, hell, it was the worst accident that ever happened to their group; haerin remembered how terrible that night was, everyone was crying and worried sick, y/n fell on the floor and hit her head pretty hard on the ground.

but she survived, haerin hated to say this but it was even a miracle y/n survived, the blow was so hard that it could have shaken her brain and damaged it but her charts didn't show any problem in her brain.

till now, she seemed fine.

maybe she knew y/n more than anyone else but, it doesn't stop bothering her, even tonight.

"excuse me." y/n's voice echoed inside the bathroom, she walked her way towards the sink and stood beside haerin to brush her teeth, haerin stared at the girl and watched as the girl brushed her teeth.

"hey, today's the start of our filming... there's nothing wrong that can happen, right?" this has been occurring in the past few weeks since y/n came back from the hospital, haerin was glad for her to be back but it felt different.

y/n can't seem to recognize haerin's voice, she was functioning like an idol, she can dance to beat, hit the right notes, and act like her usual self but the least y/n thing to do is not respond immediately to what haerin was telling her, it felt weird.

y/n turned around to look at haerin and gave her a soft smile. "don't worry." just like that, haerin doesn't understand the sudden shift in her responses, she's the same way with the other members.

there were times were y/n took a few seconds to reply to the members, often times it felt like she couldn't recognize who is who.

but how?

haerin has no logical explanation, y/n's condition was beyond words, it was hard to explain, she didn't lose memories no, she could tell her members name, she knows what her life was once before the incident but it felt like a part of y/n was missing, barely holding on.

if haerin was to explain this to people, they'd think she's insane.

y/n left the bathroom and haerin, the girl frowned, damned and confused.

it's not like haerin has the sharpest eyes amongst everyone, literally, the shape of her eyes were sharp, but the way she see things weren't always as accurate as it is. but when she stared at y/n during their shooting, in the house where the light was shining upon y/n's face, she knew she had to get these feelings out soon.

y/n was silent, she turned to haerin and gave haerin a small smile. "it's hot isn't it? i didn't want to go to the convenience store with the others cause i knew you'd stay." y/n is still y/n, her memories are well intact, she knows haerin and everything about her.

maybe it's time for haerin to stop thinking too much.

what was that feeling? haerin blinked her eyes and stared at y/n. "i'm glad you're okay." haerin muttered, y/n nodded.

y/n felt bad, just how long does she need to hide this? she knew haerin was catching up to her, y/n knew how rare her cognitive disorder were from the force she got during the incident; she was scared they'd turn her into a lab rat.

that night, when she opened her eyes again, she could barely tell who was who, she knew her members' names but she couldn't recognize their faces as familiar. now, y/n is scared to close her eyes, because when she does, haerin's face fades away...

that same night, haerin didn't speak while everyone did, y/n couldn't remember what her voices sounded like, even now, whenever she's away from haerin, she can't recognize her voice.

in her three months inside the hospital, it felt like hell, her tactile sense was impaired, her auditory sensory too, and even her visual sensory was beyond repair; somehow y/n knew it was hard to explain her condition.

but there was hope, obviously, she really wasn't all that crippled, to y/n, it was just a side effect, yet it's hard to deal with but it was the best outcome out of all. who knows? if she wasn't lucky enough to survive that accident, she would've been dead by now.

yet, she is alive. y/n has to accept that she will live her upcoming years dealing with the anguish that her condition will bring her, it was hard to keep hiding but it was for the best.

y/n looked at haerin. "i promise, i'll always be okay." haerin looked down, it had to be the truth, right? perhaps, their perspective on that promise were different, y/n can only guarantee that everything haerin saw in her was okay, but haerin wanted to know deeper.

the girls came back with snacks, a cold soda, and some breads. y/n turned her head away as hanni cheered, y/n can't tell who was that, every now and then, she kept forgetting the girls' facial features, except for their hair and clothes.

hanni has a short hair in this filming, so it was easy to distinguish her from everyone else, the same with danielle with her curly hair.

y/n is only happy she picks up on it quickly without them noticing.

one day, she'll have to stop playing pretend and come in terms with her reality.

"you want bread?" hanni asked y/n, to which she nodded and smiled. "of course." she beamed at hanni and grabbed the bread.

ah, y/n couldn't tell if this bread was heavy or not.

"it's so soft!" danielle smiled, haerin watched y/n as she looked over the members with a smile. yeah, haerin hated herself for always thinking twice.

both her and y/n needed to make up their mind, find a place where they want their minds to reside, they can't keep going off anywhere.

y/n can't tell what texture this bread had, is it smooth or rough? soft or tough?

her disorder limited her performance in identifying most objects.

the whole filming felt natural, well, it was a tough job but overall, y/n managed to keep up quite well. she was happy to be given this chance to continue with newjeans, she promised herself nothing was limiting her from doing something she loved and being with the people she cares for.

ah, it was another one of those nights again when y/n is in her bed and crying; she can't feel her face, it's been numb and tired.

why does she feel like this?

it's horrible...

why can't she just be honest with what she feels? why does she have to suffer?

it's scary, she can't recognize haerin's voice, her members' face were out of the picture. once again, even for only a short amount of time, they felt like strangers to her.

she needed help and if she can't get it, her cognitive disorder will destroy her whole being, something worse than a nightmare, is her confusion, a poison was the truth.

there's no certain cure for agnosia, maybe it was a bad idea for her to surf the internet for an answer, it must be just anxiety, yeah - she's probably just worrying too much.

y/n sighed, the truth was a pill she couldn't swallow, necessary but felt like a punch on the gut, denial was her only answer, tonight, she wants to still her resolve to face her contests.

haerin heard faint sobbing as she leaned her ears on the door, she sighed, it's one of those nights again. haerin wanted to know what was putting y/n into these kinds of situations, crying herself to sleep until the time burns out and she's left to keeping herself awake till the next day.

haerin knows y/n and her have a connection only they can understand, it was some kind of feelings that both they shared and individually had. something that's hurting y/n is hurting haerin too. haerin knocked on the door. "y/n? are you okay? this is haerin."

y/n rose from her bed and wiped her tears, it's haerin, she knew only because haerin revealed herself.

"come in..." y/n faint voice made haerin's heart skip a beat.

when haerin opened the door, she caught a glimpse of y/n's back, haerin curled her brows but only for a few seconds as she gathered her courage.

"i could hear your sobs you know? what's bothering you?" there was no point with hiding, y/n looked at haerin, the swollen eyes caught the cat-like girl off guard, she sighed and sat on the other edge of the bed, their backs facing each other.

"a lot..." y/n muttered, haerin nodded.

"i guessed it, want to share it?" haerin's offer sounded tempting at the moment, y/n felt like it made sense if she finally came to agreement about what she felt, she'd be able to understand haerin more and get the heavy feelings off of her chest.

"it feels a little heavy for me to share... but i guessed it's you so..." y/n shifts her posture as she turned a bit to face haerin's back, she had a small sheepish smile, haerin chuckled; from what she remembered, the heaviest for her was having to see y/n at the hospital, it made her hate the emptiness of every corridor, the heaviness of her heart weighing all the worries she carried for y/n.

the comfort the practice room once gave her was gone, all that was left is fear of something worse as she await y/n's return.

"i can take it." haerin stated.

"i'm consulting a doctor, again." haerin finally turned her head, both of their backs facing each other but their eyes were on one another. haerin raised her eyebrows. "like your weekly checkups with the physician?" well it was something everyone knew was a part if y/n's new routine.

"why? you don't wanna go there anymore?" haerin asked again.

y/n shook her head as she took a heavy breath. "no," she paused, it was for the best, if she stopped consulting her physician, one thing could go wrong and it's over but she needed more help.

"i... i'll try reaching out to psychiatrists..." haerin looked at y/n, surprised, it was out of pocket.

"why..?" haerin was rather afraid to ask but she wanted to know. y/n shook her head and sighed. "that i'm still trying to look for an answer myself, i felt the need to reach out to a psychiatrist but i can only get the answer why i got the urge if i can hear them out." y/n answered, it was know haerin's turn to shake her head.

"no, there's definitely something wrong." the past was their playful banter, y/n remembers those memories with haerin but all with a distorted image of haerin's face and an almost empty sound of her voice.

even the touch of haerin's palm was unrecognizable to y/n.

that was her problem. "it's hard to explain." y/n said.

haerin frowned and looked down. "are you going to be okay?" like a sad kitten, haerin asked as she looked at y/n. y/n gave her a nod. "of course."

agnosia...

prosopagnosia, the disorder that affects her ability to recognize familiar faces.

phonagnosia, inability to recognize familiar voices, and ahylognosia, the disorder that hinders the identification of textures and materials.

the psychiatrist couldn't give her a proper answer to a cure, even he looked unsure; it brought y/n's hopes down. he could only say that time can help y/n re-develop these skills, it was a side effect of the trauma her head caught during her accident.

"give it at least three or more months. it should be advisable to stay with friends, families, or loved ones, that's the only thing you should really worry about, it doesn't get worse over time as long as you keep great contact with familiar people in your life."

that's what he said.

though, there isn't an instant cure, y/n held on to what her psychiatrist said, he'll keep in touch and check up on her every now and then, maybe that'll help.

as y/n was heading home, she kept listening to their own songs, familiarize... and remember...

watching music videos was her answer, since she gets to call her family all the time she needed to, y/n's main focus is once again recognizing her members.

when she got home, haerin noticed this.

"hey, you've been watching a lot of our music videos." she pointed out, y/n looked up at haerin, just a bit more, she told herself.

"yeah, i like our songs." it was true but in this situation it wasn't.

"how did your consultation went?" haerin asked, not taking no more risk to lose the chances. the members were gone except for the two girls. "it went as expected." y/n answered.

haerin looked down at y/n who sat down at her chair and haerin scratched her cheek. "i hate beating around the bush, can you tell me what you got? i promise i'll keep it." y/n appreciates haerin's honesty but it was hard to say something that took her a lot to understand.

y/n stood up from her seat and shook her head at haerin. "maybe the right time will come, i have something i want to say more now that that." y/n faced haerin and sighed as she let out a sheepish laugh.

haerin blushed as the gap between them got smaller, she really isn't good about these things unless they're playful, definitely not when it's y/n. "what is it?" maybe she shouldn't push the psychiatrist topic so much; it worried haerin yes, but it didn't seem right to y/n, it wasn't her choice.

"do you like me?" it was such a short question but haerin was taken back as she pointed to herself, she's got her tongue tied as she looked away with a soft blush.

"what's that suddenly about?" haerin asked as she looked at y/n again, y/n smiled and shook her head. "nothing, anyway i'll just get something from minji's room." y/n shrugged and haerin saw y/n walked past her and haerin reached over to y/n's shoulder. "wait!"

y/n turned around and looked at haerin as the cat-like girl took a heavy breathe. "i, i have something to say. promise we'll stay the same?" haerin's face looked delicate, to y/n's eyes, her expression were cute. "of course." she said.

"hm, i like you yeah. but why would u ask?" haerin looked at y/n before scratching her cheek. y/n stared at haerin and smiled, she shrugged and looked away for only a few seconds. "well, if i were to be honest it makes things easier for me. you know? just watch over me okay? i'll eventually get better in no time." y/n said as she beamed at haerin, haerin nodded, a soft blush covering her cheeks.

"well, as long as you tell me about what you feel." haerin shrugged, her breath feels short, must have been her heart beating too much. y/n looked down and nodded. "i promise to be transparent." y/n muttered as she leaned her head on haerin's shoulder.

y/n rubbed her face on the soft fabric of haerin's clothes, the cat-like girl's smell wafted around her, the smell of the fresh fabric conditioner. she's afraid if she closes her eyes her mind would be in a blur.

haerin looked at y/n, she awkwardly stayed still.

"i'm sorry," y/n sighed. "i can't really find a way to communicate what i'm going through, not to you, not to the members." haerin nodded.

"it is harder for you than everyone else..." haerin muttered.

"everyone will find out sooner anyway, i don't have to hide forever." y/n smiled as she she felt haerin's arms around her.

a future with everyone, that's what y/n wanted, though hard to put into imagination, she wishes that once all is over, she'll still be with haerin.

"it's okay, i won't let them force you if you don't want to." haerin knew she sounded silly, it was something tough and brave for her to say but it was true, she'd be willing to speak up if it was for y/n's betterment.

y/n chuckled and nodded. "i trust you." she whispered.

y/n doesn't want to close her eyes, she wants to know that she's with haerin, that when haerin speaks, her eyes could see her presence, she wanted more than to feel, it was out of her capabilities as her cognitive disorder limited her to be able to do such things;

if she closes her eyes, she wouldn't know it's haerin speaking, she wouldn't certainly be able to imagine the familiarity of haerin's face.

maybe just now, but in the future anything could change - hopefully.

haerin had to shake her mind off of y/n's secrets, not everything has to have her in the picture and she understood it.

haerin and y/n both hopes for something better to come, maybe tomorrow it will change, maybe not - maybe it'll only take a couple of days or if not, weeks, months or even a year or two. it's hard to try and live in the future if the present needed to be change; no one certainly knew what would happen.

but in this present, y/n only needed her family, friends, and haerin. through what limited her capabilities, it's not enough to put y/n to a full stop and not enough for haerin to keep caring for the girl.

as they stood in the middle of y/n's room, haerin's hug starts to feel tighter, without y/n noticing it.

"i love you." haerin thought, well, she didn't have enough courage to say it.

sighing, haerin carefully puts a hand on top of y/n's head and gently caressed y/n's hair. for a brief moment or more, it felt like home.

[corroded-hellfire]

what about like an angst with reader, eddie, and Chrissy and maybe ends happy. like a romance type thing but lots of angst

Somehow this got lost in my drafts, so I deeply apologize it took me so long to get it out! I tried to angst it up for you.

Warnings: mentally and emotionally abusive parents, Eddie’s a jerk but he comes to

Words: 3.8k

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Nancy’s voice betrays her worry over the phone, and you have to assure her for the fifth time that you’re all right. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

Annoyed isn’t a word you would’ve used to describe your mood before, but it’s certainly fitting now that Nancy keeps interrogating you. 

“You just sound different,” Nancy answers. “You sound off.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. 

“Why don’t you go and see Eddie?” Nancy suggests. It’s not a secret that your best friend can make you happier even when the world is turning to shit. His presence hasn’t been quite as helpful lately since it’s a constant reminder that he has a date with Chrissy Cunningham coming up—and not one with you. 

“Yeah, maybe I will,” you tell Nancy. 

“Good. Call me if you need me.”

“I will, Nance. Bye.”

After hanging up the phone, you stroll into the bathroom and survey the damage on your face. Digging through your makeup bag to find your trusty makeup remover, you make a mental note to stop off at Melvalds on the way home to pick up some more. The skin beneath your puffy eyes is tender as you use a cotton swab to clear away the smeared mascara. Hisses of pain leak through your teeth as you gently dab at your waterline, trying to make all traces of your sob fest vanish. 

Makeup worked for the most part when hiding your irritated eyes and the raw skin around them from crying so much. But when you cried while already wearing some, it made the evidence plain as day with the black streaks running down your cheeks. The only person who knows that your mom and her boyfriend treat you like garbage is Eddie—which means you have to take extra precautions when trying to hide the signs from him too. Eddie threatened many times to kick the shit out of your mom’s boyfriend. There have been a few times when he was high that you had to physically restrain him from heading out to find the prick. He hated how your mother treated you as well, but Eddie could never threaten a woman—even one as horrible as her. 

Once you’re satisfied with the cover the makeup has given you, you grab your keys and head out to your car. This had been one of the worst beratings you’d ever gotten and there was still a ringing in your ears from the vitriol they spewed. 

You think you’re better than us? Just because you graduated high school? Think you’re some big hot shot? You’re nothing. No one gives a shit about you. I gave birth to you and am obligated to love you—but you even make that difficult!

You imagine Eddie’s reaction if he found out. He’d again be trying to talk you into getting into your car or his van and just driving off together. Somewhere, anywhere. Most of the time the two of you said you’d drive to the beach, seeing as neither of you had ever seen the ocean before. The fantasy of Eddie kicking the ass of the douche your mom is dating and then whisking you away to the beach keeps you company on the ride over. 

Wayne’s truck isn’t parked beside Eddie’s van when you arrive, which means the older man has left for work already. The usual blaring of Eddie’s stereo that you can hear from outside doesn’t meet your ears as you step out of your car. You hoist yourself up the few stairs to the front door and rap your knuckles on it. There’s no answer. Leaning in, you definitely hear shuffling going on in there, though. You knock again.

“What?” comes a muffled bark from the other side of the door. Frowning, you push the front door open and step inside of what has become your second home. 

“Um, Eds?” His back is to you as you shut the front door behind you. By his hunched position over a lower shelf and the shuffling and scraping sounds reaching your ears, you can tell he’s looking for something. Frantically, if the frazzled eyes he gives you in the briefest of glances over his shoulder are any indication. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, turning immediately back to the task at hand. 

“Can I, uh, talk to you?” One of your hands twirls a keyring around your finger, while the other comes up to gingerly touch your swollen lower eyelid. 

“Now?” The groan accompanying his words takes you aback. There’s never been a single time that he’s made you feel like a burden or inconvenience. But the way he’s acting now is sure giving you that impression. 

“Are you busy?” you ask in a soft voice. 

“Trying to find that ring with the skeleton hands holding the stone.”

“Why?”

“Because Chrissy likes that one.” He says it so absentmindedly, like he’s giving 99% of his efforts into finding the piece of jewelry, and 1% of them talking to you. 

“What’s it matter what ring you wear right now?” Frowning, you cross your arms over your chest.

Eddie groans again and opens another drawer. “To wear on our date tonight.”

The air rushes out of your lungs faster than when your mom landed a verbal gut punch at home. You thought you had a whole week to mentally prepare for Eddie going out on a date with the queen of Hawkins High. 

“T-Tonight?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Something came up for her next weekend, so we rescheduled it for today.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say without bursting into tears or punching a hole in the wall. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, turning around to finally face you. “So, you know, if you could just…” Eddie gestures towards the front door, obviously hinting at you leaving. 

“O-Oh. Yeah. I-I just need to talk to you about something,” you say weakly. “It will only take a minute. I-I promise.”

Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t have a minute. I need to find this ring. You and I can talk whenever. The date is tonight, though—it’s important.”

And I’m not, your mind adds. The pain in your eyes seems to throb even more, as if Eddie’s words are irritating them further. 

“Right,” you say. “Okay, I’ll go.” 

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles as he continues his search. It burns like a branding iron down your esophagus. You can’t count all the times that Eddie said to come to him whenever you felt low or like you wanted to run away or when you couldn’t take being at home any longer. It made you feel special. Now, he doesn’t even have the time of day to listen to what you have to say. Even if you shouted, “Hey, this is about the people who I live with that abuse me!” it probably still wouldn’t get his full attention. You’re not going to use that as an excuse, either. Not going to use it to get your best friend to talk to you when he clearly doesn’t want to and has better things to do. 

An idea pops into your head and it’s planted itself before you really even have time to consider it. Slowly, you walk back to the front door. But before you open it, you turn back to face him. 

“Can I just ask one f-favor first?” you say, doing your damndest to keep your voice from shaking. “And then I’ll leave, I promise.” 

Pausing his perusing, Eddie heaves out a sigh and turns to face you, hands on his hips. “What?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Eddie takes the few steps towards you and pulls you in for a quick squeeze. It’s not exactly what you wanted, but you still let your head rest against his shoulder, scrunching your eyes closed as you try and savor this moment with Eddie. Usually, his hugs are like a balm for your soul. But this one is rushed and half-assed. It’s clear he wants you to be gone. So after one last squeeze of him in your arms, you grab the front door knob and open it to the warm late spring day outside. Over your shoulder, you look at Eddie. He’s back to shuffling things around, pink tongue poking out of his pretty lips as he focuses on his task.

“Goodbye, Eddie.”

There’s no response. You didn’t really expect one, anyway. The two of you have been best friends for years. But you know the place that Chrissy holds in his heart and there’s no room for anyone else in that spotlight. It’s not the kind cheerleader’s fault, though. All she did was agree to a date with the best man you know. How could you blame her? 

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the trailer and close the door behind you. 

The first thing you do when you get back into your car is turn up the radio as loud as your eardrums can stand. Hopefully it’ll be enough to occupy your mind so it doesn’t wander and you don’t spiral even further. Melvalds is on the way home from Eddie’s, otherwise you probably would have skipped it. But, you think, you can also grab a candy bar or two to drown your sorrows in if you stop by the store. 

Luckily, no one you know is working at the store this evening. It makes it easier for you to grab the things you need and get out without having to have a conversation with anyone. On your way back to the car, the dumpster on the side of the building catches your eye, as it’s overflowing with garbage. They must have gotten a delivery earlier in the day because empty boxes also pile high out of the large green bin, many littering the floor around it as well. Without giving it much thought, you pop the trunk of your car before grabbing as many boxes as will fit in the cramped space before shoving them inside. You slam the trunk, giving it enough oomph to make it close despite the amount of cardboard you managed to cram in.

No one is home when you get there, which isn’t a surprise. Eddie would be occupied the whole night, so you know you’ll have no interruptions. Because who else would call or show up to see you? No one, of course. So, you lug the empty boxes into your room and take a look around the small space. Most of your belongings should fit in the boxes and the small suitcase, duffle bag, and backpack you have in your closet. 

Heaving a sigh, you get to work and start to pack up your room. What’s keeping you in Hawkins anymore? High school is over and your only college plans so far were community college—and they have those just about everywhere. Family was a mark against staying in Hawkins, and your friends were either going away to college or dating pretty cheerleaders that’ll have them forgetting all about you eventually. Why not have your own new start? 

There’s not a whole lot in your room to begin with, so most everything you own ends up in a box or a bag. It’s nearing three in the morning by the time you shove the bags containing your clothes behind the driver and passenger’s seats in your car. Figuring you’d end up sleeping in your car for the foreseeable future, you pack all your bedding into the backseat, creating a nest that you could curl up into when you were tired of driving. 

The boxes are heavy, but you manage to haul them to the driveway all by yourself. After stashing most of them into the trunk, you realize they’re probably not all going to fit. Gritting your teeth, you decide to give it the old college try and force them all in. Headlights turn down your street and you have to shield your face as the beams blind you. None of your neighbors are particularly friendly, so you know none of them will stop to see what’s going on. To your chagrin though, the vehicle starts to slow as it approaches your home. The closer it gets, you begin to hear the familiar squeak that churns out as the tires roll up. Eddie. Ice floods your veins as your mind scrambles to find something to tell him. What possible explanation could you have for loading up your car with all of your belongings in the middle of the night? But how do you tell him that you planned on skipping town without giving him a heads up first? 

You run out of time as the van comes to a halt and the thump of Eddie’s boots hits the pavement.

“Uh, whatcha doing?” Eddie drawls. The lights on the front of the van finally fade out and you can see him approaching you. There’s a confused yet amused furrow on his brow as he slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing the same t-shirt as he was when you saw him before, but now his leather jacket is thrown over it. 

“Nothing,” you say lamely as you throw your weight behind your attempts to close the trunk. 

“Really?” Eddie raises his eyebrows as he leans against the side of your car. “Nothing? Because you always load your car up with boxes in the middle of the night. How could I forget?”

Deciding to just ignore him, even though you know that won’t work, you put your focus back on the task at hand. Eddie gives you a few moments, watching in amusement as you try to leap on top of the trunk. 

“What, are you getting rid of a body? Come on, who’d ya kill? You know I’ll help you out.” There’s a playful smirk on his face as he pushes off of the car and his eyes catch on the bedding you have in the backseat. “Wait.” He points at your comforter and pillows bunched up on the old worn seats. “Are you…going somewhere?”

“Maybe.” It’s petty and immature of you, but you’re still hurt by how easily he dismissed you before. 

Eddie’s jaw drops and he lets out a scoff. “And what? You just weren’t going to tell me?”

“Honestly,” you huff out, momentarily giving up on closing the trunk, “I didn’t think you’d care very much.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie’s eyes practically pop out of his skull. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, forget it,” you mumble. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came to tell my best friend about my date,” he says, irritation clear in his tone. “But it seems like she’s mad at me for some reason.”

All you can do is stare at him. He seriously doesn’t know? He can’t figure out why you’re so upset with him? Anger boils your blood, thawing out the ice that previously resided there. 

“Well, I’m busy, Eddie. So, you know, if you could just…” Your eyes flicker over to his van, not so subtly quoting him from earlier in the day. 

It takes a few moments, but it finally dawns on him. He drops his arms to his side and has the good sense to look embarrassed.

“Oh, shit.” Eddie groans and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m an asshole, aren’t I?”

Some of your anger turns to irritation as you see his body deflate. You cross your arms over your chest, refusing to give up all your vexation towards him. 

“You are.”

“I’m sorry.” He steps towards you, letting out a sigh. “You wanted to talk to me about something and I just brushed you off. I’m a pretty shitty best friend.”

Not quite trusting your voice, you nod your head. Eddie comes even closer and tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him. His lower lip is jutted out and he’s made his eyes somehow even wider. 

“Can you forgive me?” he asks.

You have to bite your lip from letting a small smile peek through. Even when he’s been an asshole and an idiot, he can still find a way to cheer you up. 

“Maybe,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie heaves an over dramatic sigh that you know is meant to keep the atmosphere around you light. 

“What about we talk about whatever it was you came by for, hmm?”

The suggestion suddenly sours your mood again. You’d managed to get the venom hurled at you pushed to the back of your mind, too focused on Eddie hurting your feelings. Now the vile words come back to you and your best friend immediately picks up on the shift in your demeanor. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles under his breath. He knows the reason your body would tense up like that. It only serves to make him feel even worse about shooing you away before. Eddie lifts his eyes and scans the driveway before looking back at your house. “Are they here?”

“No,” you say softly.

“Good, I’d fucking lose it on them.” He takes a deep breath before ducking his head to meet your eyes. “How bad was it?”

The question is what gets the tears prickling in your eyes. You try to hide it, but your trembling bottom lip gives you away. Eddie doesn’t hesitate to tug you closer to him and pull you into a hug. 

“Whatever they said, it isn’t true,” Eddie mumbles against your hair. 

“D-Did you know it’s almost impossible to love me?” you say with a hoarse voice. You clear your throat before you speak again. “And that I’m a pathetic waste of space that nobody wants around?”

“I do.”

You can’t help but look up at Eddie when he says that, skepticism written all over your face. At first, the look puzzles Eddie. Then he remembers what he did when you originally came to see him and talk about the shitty things your mom and her boyfriend said to you. Eddie had just brushed you off, made you feel unimportant and that he cared about Chrissy more than you. Nothing could be farther from the truth. You mean everything to him and the fact that he made you feel anything less than is absolutely eating him alive inside. 

“I promise I want you around all the time,” Eddie tells you. “There’s never a time I don’t want you around. I’m so sorry about before, sweetheart. I clearly wasn’t thinking. Is…is that why you were leaving?”

Without meeting his eyes, you nod your head. “Figured no one wanted me around. Was tired of being here,” you say, gesturing to your house behind you. 

Eddie nods his head and presses a kiss into your hair. You think he’s going to say something, but instead he walks around you and picks up one of the cardboard boxes you were trying to get in your trunk. Instead of assisting you with it, he steps away from your car with the box, and you look at him in confusion.

“What’re you doing?” you ask.

“This was never going to fit in there,” Eddie says, nodding towards your car. “Gonna put it in the back of my van.”

This confuses you more than anything. You watch him in silence, a frown etched into your brow, as he yanks open the back of his van and slides the box inside. 

“Why your van?” you ask.

Eddie gives you a look like the answer should be a no-brainer. 

“Because the boxes weren’t fitting in your trunk, and I have plenty of space in mine.”

“What?” Your brain feels like it has whiplash from everything that’s gone on today. Maybe Eddie was the one making sense and you’re just not getting it. “How’s it going to help me in your van?” 

“Well,” Eddie says as he walks over and picks up another of the boxes that you couldn’t make fit. “We’re going to have to stop at my place, anyway. I’ll have to pack up some shit to take.”

“Take where?” Your voice sounds about as flabbergasted as you feel. The fact that you’re becoming more and more sleep deprived isn’t helping either. 

“Wherever we’re headed,” Eddie says with a shrug. He slides the second box in beside the first one in the back of the van. “The ocean, I presume.”

“What?” you practically shout into the quiet, dark night. 

“You wanna leave, right?” Eddie asks as he closes the back doors of the van. “Finally leaving these assholes you live with, yeah?”

“I, um,” you stutter, not completely sure of what’s going on or what you should say. “Yeah. I-I’m leaving.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head.

“And you really think I’d let you leave without me? Bullshit. We can crash at my place tonight then head out in the morning. Maybe plan a route over breakfast.”

“Wha—Eddie, no.” 

The refusal seems to confuse him. His brow pinches together as he leans against the side of his van. 

“What?” he asks.

“You can just pick up and leave. You have Wayne. And the Hellfire guys. And…Chrissy.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says with a humorless chuckle. He shakes his head and makes his way over to you. Gently, he picks one of your hands up in his own and laces your fingers together. “The Hellfire guys still have the club when they head back to school in the fall. Wayne’s been saying you and I should get out of Hawkins for months now. And as for Chrissy?” Eddie shrugs and a knot forms in your stomach. “We’ve only been on one date. And yeah, I really like her. But I’m not going to pass up being on the road with my favorite person.”

Not only does the knot untie itself at your words, but it also seems as if the rope turned into little butterflies that are spreading their wings all throughout your abdomen. 

“O-Okay,” you say, trying to fight back the tears in your eyes. 

“I’ll meet you at the trailer, yeah?” Eddie asks, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Don’t go getting a head start without me.”

“I promise.”

Eddie holds his pinky up to you. “Pinky promise?”

Smiling, you lock your pinky with his before letting your hands fall to your sides. Eddie takes one last look at your former home before striding over to his van.

“Thank God you’re leaving this place,” he says, eyeing every little detail of the house with disdain. Memories of all the times you called him crying because of something that happened within these walls flood you. It’s the reminder of all the kindness and love he’s given you over the years that really allows you to forgive him for his rude behavior earlier. It still hurts, but expecting Eddie to be perfect wasn’t fair to anyone. 

“I’ll see you in five minutes?” you ask as you finally get your trunk closed.

“Then you’ll never be able to get rid of me.” Eddie throws you a wink before closing himself in the van.

Grinning to yourself, you slide into your own driver’s seat. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Munson.”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This one's the first of many doozies. I recommend you clock out now if you think the following will distress you: mentions of rape, but no scenes or explicit description. If not, read on! Chapter Title is from Rebel Rebel by David Bowie.

Word Count: 7.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Your first mission is delivered, and it goes about as expected. Contains usual tags, emphasis on mention of rape/non-con.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

When your team stepped into the safe house, you could see the moment the smell hit their noses.

“Merde,” Frenchie was the first to speak, a poor omen within itself. “What the fuck am I smelling?”

“Uh, probably the milk and meat. They’re the strongest.”

Annie said your name carefully, watching your reaction as she spoke. “What happened.”

“He wouldn’t put away the groceries.” You said with a shrug. You were over it. It was like, ten bad things ago.

“So you just. Left them out?” Hughie said, seemingly baffled.

“Yeah.”

“Mallory said she delivered them on the first night.” Annie glanced between you and Hughie.

“She did.”

Hughie’s eyes widened further. “That was almost two weeks ago.” When you just nodded in agreement, he pushed further. “They’ve been out the whole time?”

You frowned. “He doesn’t get to win.”

“What are you, five?” 

You just sighed, giving Hughie a pleading look. “Don’t tell MM.”

“What?” Butcher taunted from the back of the group. “That he was right, and you can’t handle Soldier Boy?”

“I thought you were on my side about this.”

“I’m on the side of the truth, Love.”

Both you, Annie, and Frenchie let out huffs of amusement at that claim, with Hughie looking sheepishly amused.

“You can’t possibly believe that.” Annie gave Butcher a pointed look. He only winked in response, leaving her to turn back to you with an eye roll.

“Has it been like this,” Hughie gestured vaguely around him. “The whole time?”

“Nah. Worse.”

Really, hell would be a better word for it. After the knife incident, there had been the toilet paper incident, which you had won, the coffee incident, also your victory, the laundry incident, point Soldier Boy, the TV incident, point you, and the Lord of the Rings incident, another point Soldier Boy. The Elton John, Jimmy Carter, and Rockefeller Center incidents had ended in stalemates akin to the Cold War, but should those fuses reignite, you were sure you could take them home. Overall, you’d burned him seven times, he’d thrown two chairs at you, you tossed shit in his face once and threatened castration on fifteen separate occasions, and he had offered to sleep with you thirty-one times.

“He hasn’t, he hasn’t hurt you. Right?” Hughie wasn’t fully looking at you when he asked, his voice soft and nervous.

“No. I mean, he’s tried. Not in… that way, but I’ve had a few things thrown at me. All the physical violence died out around the laundry incident, though. Now we’re using psychological warfare.”

“Laundry incident?” Hughie said at the same time that Frenchie said, “Psychological warfare?”

“Don’t ask.” Was your response to both. You’d avoid revisiting the laundry incident in your mind for the rest of your life if you could help it, and the actual practice of your warfare was more childish than you’d like to admit.

“Well, as lovely as a reunion this has been, we need to talk to you both. Where’s the cunt,  anyway?" Butcher craned his neck to look down the hall.

“Probably moping around in his room.” You shrugged. “Let’s talk in the living room, standing at the door is weird.”

While the living room hadn’t taken even close to as much damage as the kitchen, it had not escaped you and Soldier Boy’s sparring unscathed. Books provided by the CIA, which were mostly stereotypical classics, had been upended from their shelves and strewn across the floor. The TV was still intact, as was the sofa, but the former was stuck on PBS, and the latter was, at this point, compromised of 70% trash.

“Holy shit,” Hughie muttered as he stepped over a copy of Catcher in the Rye. “You can’t plan on living like this the whole time?”

“Well, if America’s number one man-baby would stop moaning and bitching about his glory days, then maybe, yeah.”

Annie gave you a concerned look. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll castrate him.” Though the threat had now been made sixteen times, it never satisfied you less to say it.

“I’ve told you, Sunshine, if you did that, you would only be hurting yourself.”

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained over you with tense gazes. You turned to find Soldier Boy almost directly behind you. “I’ve told you, by definition, I’d only be hurting you.”

He gave a mocking pout. “Wouldn’t that plague your perfect little conscious?”

“I’d live.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Prude.”

“Manwhore.”

“Whiny Brat.”

“Waste of space.”

“Waste of good pussy.”

“Waste of government money.”

“Waste of Compound V.”

“Pathetic, assfaced Dickwad.”

“Stuck up, pretentious Ice Queen.”

“Geriatric, entitled, blue-balled G.I. Joe Fuckdoll”

The room had practically vanished around you as you and Soldier Boy fell into your now well-tread path of insults. Your blood was burning with that feeling, aching to burst across the room as both of you glared hard enough to, fingers crossed, kill the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Hughie said, breaking you out of your own spell.

“What are they doing here?” Soilder Boy asked, somehow having only just clocked their presence. “Do I finally get to do my job and leave?”

“No,” Annie answered. “We have no way of knowing how long you’ll be here at this point.”

“That’s what I said,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your team.

“Yeah,” Soldier Boy said at full volume. “And I don’t fucking trust you.”

“Will you get off my ass about it now?”

“I think you like me on your ass, Sunshine. My offer never leaves the table.”

“Cunt.”

“Bitch.”

“Helpless man-child.”

“Prissy tease.”

“Glorified propaganda poster-“

“No,” Annie cut it. “We’re not doing that again.”

“Party pooper,” Butcher grumbled. “I was hoping they’d kill each other this time. Then we could just go home.”

“Well, did you at least bring me drugs?” Soldier Boy seemed to search the room, as if a pile of weed and coke would miraculously appear on the floor amongst the mess of wrappers and fluid-filled paper towels.

“We’re not buying you drugs with government money.” Annie said, giving you a look of apology. “As I’m sure you’ve been told.”

“Many times,” you affirm under your breath. You’d had to hide the glue on day five, which had let to the toilet paper incident on day six. A day had not passed since where you didn’t catch him trying to turn a new household object into something to snort.

“I thought weed was fucking legal now.” Soldier Boy glared at you, as if you were personally responsible for the CIA not buying him blunts. “It’s a free fucking country. I should be able to smoke whenever I damn please.”

“Porn is legal,” you reply. “Doesn’t mean the federal government is going to bring you some.”

“If they brought me porn and weed, I’d be far more open to whatever shit you want from me.” He winked at you.

“We gave you that last time,” Hughie pointed out, shifting nervously. “It barely helped.”

“Will you be a good little supe if we come back with porn and weed? Because we can go and-“

“No, we need to do this now.” Annie spoke over Butcher, and you noticed a line of worry on her forehead, along with Hughie’s nervous fidgeting. Though Butcher didn’t seem plagued by an anxious tell, he relented to Annie faster than you’d ever seen, and alarm bells went off in your head.

“Annie,” you bit the bullet, asking softly. “What is the ‘this’ you need us for?”

She gave you an apologetic look. “Trial run.”

“Trial run?”

“We’re giving you a test, Love.” Butcher said with a smirk. “See if your little experiment is even viable. Maybe take out a player in the process. All depends on if you and him,” he jerked his head to Soldier Boy. “Do your jobs right.”

“I don’t need your little ‘test’ to know if I can do my job.” Soldier Boy snapped.

“Last time you failed,” Hughie muttered.

Frenchie nodded in agreement. “In a spectacular manner, yes.”

“Because that bitch and that pussy stopped me.” An angry scowl was thrown at Annie and Butcher, who returned it and grinned widely back respectively.

“You were going to kill a kid,” Annie said coldly.

“He shouldn’t have been in the line of fire.”

“The line of fire? Do you hear yourself? Do you really care about others so little that-“

“I’d do it again,” he snapped back, unbothered by Annie’s disgust. “You don’t get to ask me for help and get mad when I do.”

You gave Butcher a pointed look. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

Though all you got in response was a grunt from Butcher, Soldier Boy’s eyes shot to you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You returned his glare, steeling your own eyes to match his interrogating gaze. “We’re removing the ‘kill a kid’ option from your choices. You want to know why we’re stuck here? Because you fucked it last time, and we won’t let you fuck up again.”

“You won’t let me?” He sneered, leering at you coldly. “You don’t let me do anything, Sunshine.”

If the “Sunshine” thing continued to stick, you might have to throw yourself off a roof. But you didn’t flinch, just tilting your head mockingly. “You wouldn’t need a shock collar if you hadn’t bit the hand.”

“I wouldn’t bite the hand if it hadn’t tried to kill me.”

“Nobody tried to kill you, Mate.” Butcher interjected. Soldier Boy’s anger switched back to him with fists curling at his side, but Butcher kept talking with a bored drawl. “You shouldn’t have bloody fucked up.”

“And, like I said,” you shrugged. “It won’t happen again.”

“If I see the shot, I’ll take it. Whether you like it or not.”

Looking into his eyes, you believed him. No doubt fogged your brain that, given the opportunity, Soldier Boy wouldn’t hesitate to take out Ryan Butcher with Homelander. Part of you, the angry and bitter part still trapped underground, understood that. But you’d see Ryan once, from afar, and he had looked so young. You didn’t have to imagine his fear or touch him to understand what it was like. For your life to change abruptly and without reason, to have to sprint to keep up with your new one. Soldier Boy had volunteered for this life. Ryan hadn’t. You hadn’t.

So, holding Soldier Boy’s gaze, you made your voice clear and steady. “You don’t get to take the shot until it’s clear. Ryan will be out of the picture before you even see Homelander.” You turned to Annie. “What’s the test?”

“Head-popper.” Butcher answered for Annie with an odd look at you. His voice carried the usual light and oddly joyful tone he used when discussing murdering supes, but his eyes on yours were quieter, with less manic vengeance than you’d seen before. If you didn’t know better, you’d call them thankful.

“Head-popper?”

Hughie jumped in at your confused frown. “Neuman.”

“Oh,” you paused, looking over Hughie’s worried face. “We’re going after Neuman?”

“Who the fuck is Neuman?” Soldier Boy asked with a reluctant grumble. You had picked up on his consistent annoyance with new things after you’d found him screaming at the microwave three days ago, and not knowing new people didn’t seem to be any different.

“She’s a supe who can pop people’s heads like balloons.” Frenchie gestured in imitation for effect. “It’s disgusting.”

“And she’s the VP elect, which would put an ally of Homelander in the White House, one step from the Oval Office.” Annie said pointedly, giving Frenchie a look. You offered him a small smile over her head. Though the demonstration hadn’t been helpful, watching his hands fly around mimicking Neuman’s powers was undeniably entertaining.

“She's dangerous,” Hughie added. “But she’s not a bad person. We don’t want to kill her, just remove her powers.”

“What do we need her for then?” You didn’t have to look to know Soldier Boy’s accusation was directed at you. You bit your tongue, trying to ignore the way the words seeped into your skin.

Because he’s right. A cruel whisper said into your ear, and the itch on your skin began to feel like a rash. You were saved from the plague of your thoughts—the urgent feeling to fall prompted by almost nothing—by Butcher.

“If you think you’re going anywhere without her, Governor, you’d better get used to being wrong. She’s there for the same reason she’s here. So you don’t go postal.”

Soldier Boy gave you an unreadable look as the rush of your heart in your chest slowed from Butcher’s words. You turned away from him, but you could almost feel his eyes through your skull as you looked at Butcher with a blank face.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, praying it would be simple, with as few people as possible around and, ideally, in the middle of a desert filled exclusively with fire extinguishers.

“MM and Kimiko are doing recon on one of Bob Singer’s rallies. Frenchie will create a distraction for the secret service, and Neuman’s personal detail is going to suddenly disappear-“

“Disappear?” You interrupted Butcher with raised eyebrows.

“Keep your panties on, they’ve been bribed. Once she’s isolated, Soldier Boy’ll blast her, and we can all go home confident in your little gambit.”

You hesitated, trying to imagine the last political rally you’d seen. Group of people in tight groups, electrical wiring for microphones, speakers, and lights. Gates and closed doors, hallways leading out onto streets. “How are we going to isolate her?”

“Me and Butcher will work on that,” Annie said, almost reaching for you with a reassuring pat, but thinking better and jerking her arm back. She opened her mouth, an apology certainly on her, but you raised your hand to cut her off.

“How long until we leave?” You asked. Maybe they’d say ‘three hours’ and you’d get to talk to someone who didn’t think swing music was sonically viable for a bit.

Hughie checked his watch. “Ten minutes ago.”

“Ago?” Your eyes widened.

He gave you a sheepish look. “We thought it would take less time to get you.” He turned to Soldier Boy. “Your suit’s in the van. I can bring it out-“

“I can change on the way.” Soldier Boy grumbled, ignoring Hughie’s start of sputtering protests. “Let’s get this over with.”

———-

Much to his annoyance, they had forgotten Ben’s shield, and nobody would let him change in the van. He tried several times, only to be met by a chorus of groans, shouting, and swearing. He had listened to their complaints only because she had started giving him a look he recognized as a flag for a storm of uncontrolled fire. No hot disgust or sparks of rage, only a cold and quiet, almost glassy-eyed stare. Her heart steady but her breathing too fucking controlled to be natural, measured so equally that it sounded mechanical. So, because he figured she would only become more bitchy to live with if she incinerated her alleged “friends”, Ben stopped trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Once he did, the van fell insufferably silent. The edged pleasantries and conversation he’d overheard during Butcher and his band of Assholes arrival had ceased save for tense questions and hushed conversations. Ben didn’t fail to notice all the spineless avoidance and careful words directed at them both. She, even after the foggy look faded, remained curled into a corner, trading small and toothless smiles with her team. More timid than he’d seen her before, almost like a scolded child as she looked around the van nervously. Her eyes watched the shadows as though Homelander himself might jump from them, the chew of her lip giving Ben a headache. The only words she spoke were a jab at Ben when he’d said something about political rallies post-election being fucking pathetic—giving him a lecture about American politics now heavily depending on something called “going viral”—only to fall silent once more after. Her team looked at her like a glass bomb, as if she was a delicate statue looming over their heads and not the vulgar, violent woman who slept down the hall from him. That woman infuriated him, testing his patience every time she opened her mouth, but this paranoid, skittish pussy of a girl was so much worse. So when the van halted and Butcher’s team began to filter out, he called her name. When she ignored him, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“What the fuck!” She pulled herself out of his grip in a second, staring at him with anger. She glanced down at her arms, a look he didn’t understand crossing her face, before returning her attention to him. “Do not touch me.”

“I barely touched you,” he glowered, annoyance quickly flooding him. He had only brushed skin, with a light grip she had thrown off, there was no need to be so dramatic. “When I touch you for real, you’ll fucking know, Sunshine. And you’ll fucking beg for it. I needed to make you listen, you were fucking ignoring me.”

Her brows knit, and he heard the chew of her teeth on her tongue. “I’m not going to beg for anything, and I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“I said your name, and you kept fucking walking.”

“I didn’t hear you.” She snapped, but didn’t relent. “Speak up next time.”

She knew just as well as Ben did that they were both far from quiet, pussy-voiced fuckers. And while he definitely hadn’t yelled for her attention, it shouldn’t have fucking mattered. He’d seen her pick up his grumbled insults and mocking comments just fine over the past two weeks. “Bitch.”

“What do you want?” She asked with a sigh, ignoring his jab and looking at him as if he exhausted her just by breathing. “We have to go, and you still need to change.”

“You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.” He said, not hiding the contempt from his voice. He wasn’t going to skirt around his thoughts, lining them gently to help her fucking feelings.

Her body tensed, her limbs looking as if they’d locked into place. “Like what?” Ben heard her swallow as she answered, her voice not lost enough to make her sound clueless to his words.

“Like you’re a child they have to coddle. A problem they have to deal with.”

She stared at him, her glassy-eyes returning. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, cunt-face.”

Ben snorted. “They don’t treat you like the bitch you are. They always use that sweet, pussy voice, like they’re talking to a fucking puppy, when they say something to you. They’re always all fucking pouty when they look at you, pussyfooting around so they don’t make you sad.” He gave her a mocking grin, hoping the next words landed like a bullet. “They treat you like me.”

It had clearly worked, as the van had grown hot, and her eyes were clearing as her heart began to pick up. Ben felt an odd feeling cover him as he heard it, almost familiar and sparking pride in his chest. She wasn’t a jittery shell anymore, she was going to try and kill him. It made his grin grow genuine, and the van grew only more heated, the air waving around them.

Her mouth opened, and Ben hoped whatever came out of it would be vile and crude.

“Hey!” She turned her head and clenched her jaw as someone called her name from outside, the van rattling as a fist banged against it. “We need to go!”

The door opened to reveal the Cocksucker, whose face grew quickly red, a bead of sweat falling from his hairline, as he was blasted with a quickly dying wave of heat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning from Ben as the heat dropped further. “Coming.”

Cocksucker gave her a worried look, his gaze flying quickly to Ben, but just nodded and stood aside for her to move past.

As the door closed and Ben began to change, he listened for their soft, tense words.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” Cocksucker’s voice was nervous and gentle, like being suffocated by one of those fucking fluffy blankets Ben had seen in the empty bedroom of the safe house.

“No, he just grabbed me to talk. And you don’t have to keep asking me that. I’m fine, and it’s not as helpful as you think it is.” Ben frowned at her voice, the malice from it drained entirely in only a few seconds, replaced with only a tired hollowness.

“Grabbed you?! Like, he touched you?”

Having anticipated Cocksucker being more interested in the “talk” part of her sentence, or the shit that sounded like it was about feelings, Ben's brain rattled over Cocksucker’s word, his tone of panic looping in Ben’s head. He spoke of Ben’s touch as though it were a plague, and not something many people would kill to feel. Ben almost burst out of the van to say just that, but froze when he heard her answer.

“It was fast, I didn’t feel much. Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go the rest of my life without touching people.” Her voice had a finality to it, and Ben could almost picture her downturned lips and wrinkled brow.

“You touch us when you heal us.” Even Cocksucker’s voice didn’t sound sure of his response.

“It’s not the same, and you know that.”

There was a momentary stall in their words, and Ben took the opportunity to emerge, securing his belt as he walked to the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but Cocksucker looking pathetically around, anywhere but the woman as she curved into herself, wasn’t it. She held a white-knuckle grip on the sleeves of her jacket, her thumb running up and down in small movements. They both turned to him as the door banged open, and Ben caught the empty look behind her eyes before her indifference slipped back into place.

“Did you hurry me just to sit around like pussies, or are we going to start fucking moving?” He asked, the air feeling too uncomfortable to sit in.

Cocksucker blinked, glancing at his watch. “We have a few minutes until they arrive, but I guess it can’t hurt to be vigilant-“

“Arrive?” The woman’s eyes widened, and Ben saw smoke curl from her hold on her jacket. “They’re coming here?”

Cocksucker nodded. “It’s a high-security escape exit-“

“It’s a fucking street, Hughie.”

“That’s used as a high-security escape exit.” After a moment of searching the area, Cocksucker pointed a few yards down, at a large door set against brick. “Neuman will come right out of there, and her guards will close her out here, where Soldier Boy will blast her.” He paused, glancing at Ben, before looking back at the door and taking small, cowardly steps away from his spot between them.

“It’s a public area, anyone could walk past! What the fuck were you thinking?!” Her voice was hushed and agitated, and Ben had never seen her face lose color at that speed before, had never heard her heart stutter and jump as if trying to escape her body.

“It’ll be fine,” Cocksucker’s voice wavered, giving them both a nervous look. “It should be fine. MM said it would be fine.”

“You heard him, Sunshine,” Ben gave her a wink, adding a half-cocked smile when she didn’t even return him with a dirty look. “MM said it would be fine. And have some fucking faith in me, I’m not a fucking monster. I won’t blast any running pussies except for this head-popper broad.”

“You don’t even know what she looks like.” Her tone wasn’t quite the vicious mockery he was used to, but it was better than the apathetic, empty voice she’d been using. She was rolling on the balls of her feet, speaking without looking at him, her eyes moving restlessly from the door to the end of the street. “And I don’t believe you.”

Ben just shrugged, allowing the silence to hang. The wind was picking up, whistling through the chill of winter air, making the heat around them, emitting from both Ben and the woman, all the more obvious. Despite the biting cold, Cocksucker had taken off his stupid puffy jacket, even stepping back further from where they stood, with Ben in the center of the street and the woman off to the left. Despite her slowly stepping further and further back, her back now almost against the wall, Ben could feel her watching him, hear her heart continue its new and erratic beat.

“How long now, Hughie?” Her voice was raised to carry over the wind, though it hadn’t lost that stupid fucking weakness. Cocksucker, thank fuck, didn’t get a chance to respond with pathetically comforting words, as only one skipping heartbeat after she spoke a shrill fire alarm sounded.

“I’m assuming that’s your stupid French fuck's plan?” Ben asked dryly. “Start a fucking fire? I thought you pussies were all about minimal damage.”

“He probably just pulled the alarm.” The Cocksucker’s answer lacked any confident assurance. “And I think we’re just against needless murder.”

Ben almost started to rant about their so-called needless murder being a mighty high horse for a group of people who had manipulated him just as much as Vought, who’d been willing to help him kill all those backstabbing pussies from Payback so he’d help them. About how their stupid fucking moral purity complex seemed to adjust perfectly to aid them, and maybe he wasn’t a fucking angel, but he was strong and powerful—something they fucking needed—man, and he wasn’t a pussyfaced liar about what he was, what he did. The words died on his tongue, though, as hundreds of frenzied footsteps reached his ears.

“Fuck!” he growled, turning around and pointing at Cocksucker. “You fucking pussy.”

Cocksucker gave him an idiotically confused stare. “Dude, uncalled for.”

“She,” Ben pointed to the woman, whose heart was beating impossibly fast and looking on with a bloodless face. “Was fucking right. This is a stupid plan, because unless your head-popper walks like a human centipede, it’s not going to be just her that I fucking hit when that door opens.”

Cocksucker only gaped at him like a fish as the footsteps grew louder, annoyingly unsure stutters  escaping him, and just as Ben decided it might be good to slap the idiot out of his daze, the woman stepped forward.

“We need to move, Hughie. Now.” Her voice wasn’t steady, her whole body was tensed and hyper, but it held a determination Ben almost admired. “We can’t be here.”

“He- he could be fucking lying, or wrong-“

“That’s not a risk we can afford to take.” She cut off Cocksucker’s doubts, and Ben found himself surprised at her defense of him, even if it could barely be called that. Her hands were smoking once more, but she had firmly planted herself in the middle of the road, eyes turning sharply to Ben. “If people see you, any element of surprise over Homelander would be lost. We need to fucking move, you need to get in the fucking van now-“

The door banged open, and the streets flooded as hoards of people in star and stripe-themed outfits flooded the road. Everything became so loud, and that rapt, snapping sound in Ben’s head started to spread through him, spurring the drum in his chest. They were finding rhythm so fast, everything fading as Ben tried to slow it. But there were screams and shouts, and everything was getting further and further away from him while carving into him all the same, so though Ben could hear the sounds of metal clanging and shouts of his supe name, he couldn’t think anything past the beat beat beat, until he lost it all at once.

As his vision grew clear with his head, Ben expected to see shattered bodies and bloody walls. Instead, all he saw was the woman and fire. Her face was flushed red, her eyes crazed, and her clothes had become charred with holes as the fire surged from her into a barrier, cutting them off from the crowd. Cocksucker was yelling her name, urging them both to return to the van and leave, but as Ben moved, he glanced back to see the woman frozen and heard her heart as if it were his own. The wall was growing wider and shooting high, Cocksucker wouldn’t shut the fuck up about moving, but her eyes had squeezed shut, unresponsive to anything but the growing flames.

“We need to fucking go, now!” Ben turned to see a large man he vaguely recognized barreling down their side of the street, his face twisted in anger. Butcher, Starlight, a small woman he remembered fighting, and that French prick followed him, all loading into the van as the large man stopped beside Cocksucker.

“I told you he’d fucking blow it,” the man said, giving Ben a disgusted look, so flawlessly revolted Ben wouldn’t be surprised if he’d fucking practiced in the mirror.

“Hey, I didn’t fucking blow it, you pussy-“

“You said that Neuman would come out of here, that it would just be her!” Cocksucker, much to Ben’s shock, cut him with a high voice and a wave at the wall of fire. “That’s way more than just her! Is she even there?!”

“No,” the man said gruffly. “Neuman saw Butcher and figured out something was up. She’s long gone.”

“Fuck!” Cocksucker yelled, running a hand through his hair.

“Oi, we can go over how MM fucked up later,” Butcher leaned out from the van. “We need to go before she sends Homelander.”

“How I fucked up? You’re the one who disobeyed me and blew our cover-“

“What’s wrong with Madame Anomaly?” The French Prick appeared at Butcher's side.

Cocksucker glanced at the woman, calling her name before turning to the large man Butcher had called MM. “She absorbed Soldier Boy’s blast. I think it got her stuck.”

“We don’t have time for this. Get Soldier Boy in the van, I’ll take care of the Anomaly.” MM repeated the French Prick’s words, and Ben realized they were, for the first time, using the woman’s supe name.

“You heard him, Gov. Get in the bloody van.” Butcher’s words were clearly directed at Ben, but as he climbed into the van Ben saw Butcher’s attention locked on the woman.

MM had moved closer to the woman, a move Ben deemed more fucking stupid than brave. If she had “absorbed his blast,” as Cocksucker said, he wouldn’t recommend any non-supe be anywhere near her. MM seemed to realize this himself at the last possible second, taking a pathetic, stumbling step back with a pause. He and Cocksucker exchanged a look, something passing between them that Ben didn’t understand, before Cocksucker leaned down to grab a pebble from the road. Ben watched as he shakily shook out his arms, wound up, and tossed the pebble at the woman.

It was a terrible fucking idea, Ben didn’t have to be Einstein to know that, but the chain reaction that played out still managed to go worse than he might have guessed.

The woman whirled around, her eyes blazing, with a roar sounding from her chest. Fire shot from the wall directly at Cocksucker. In almost slow motion, Ben watched her face become painted with horror as she recognized her target, a different, fearful sound leaving her. She reached an arm out, her heart seeming to falter, and barely redirected the flames before they hit Cocksucker in the chest. The blaze just grazed Cocksucker’s arm, passed the van clear of anyone else, and hit the building with a boom.

The moment the bricks caught fire and the ground began to shake as the building crumbled, the woman's wall of fire fell. The woman herself remained upright, but only barely as MM shouted her name and she started to stumble to the van. Cocksucker was hauled in by Starlight and the French Prick, the former fussing over his burnt arm—Ben had seen worse at Herogasm and nobody whined about it—and Cocksucker waved her off. The woman pulled herself in, ignoring Butcher’s outstretched hand, and the door closed behind her. MM appeared in the driver’s seat, and as the engine started everyone fell into a heavy-breathed silence.

Through the ride, Ben watched the woman open and close her mouth a million times, returned to her fetal position in the corner but watching Cocksucker with a strained face. Her hands tapped against her still-smoking jacket, reaching out hesitantly before she pulled them back into herself. No words were spoken, not even the anxious whispers of the ride there. Ben felt relief as the van stopped, MM climbing out and opening the doors to reveal the exterior of the safe house, grateful for any excuse to leave these stupid, sniffing pussies to wallow in their failure.

MM led Ben and the woman to the doors, opened them by leaning oddly at the doorbell, and gestured for them to walk through. The man followed them in, shutting the doors behind him with a rough push.

“If we failed the test, I am not doing that fucking shit again.” Ben grumbled as MM turned around from the now-shut entrance.

“Butcher told me about the fucking mess you and him made in here.” MM ignored Ben entirely, speaking to the woman as if he wasn’t even there. “A team cleaned it up while you were gone, and Mallory will send more groceries tomorrow night. I saw a picture, it was fucking gross. I’m only doing it once, because I don’t want a new disease to develop in here. You’re an adult, you should take care of this place by your goddamn self.”

The woman looked at her feet, humming a small acknowledgment. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “Is Hughie going to be okay?”

MM sighed. “The kid will live. I’ll look at him when we get back.”

“I could help-“

MM cut her off with her name. “He’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

She gave another nervous hum, and Ben jumped in.

“Can you answer my fucking question-“

“We’ll let you know what our next steps are after we talk to Mallory and Singer. This wasn’t good, but it’s not the end of the damn world.” Once again, MM ignored Ben. It was starting to feel personal. Before Ben could push further, MM reached a hand out to rest on the woman’s shoulder, right over a hole in her sleeve. Her head shot up with her heart, but the panic in her seemed to evaporate just as soon as it appeared. Her name was gentle as MM spoke it, eyes locked with hers. “You didn’t fuck up. You did your job.” She nodded slowly. “It’ll be fine.” With those last words, he exited the building, leaving Ben and the woman in the hall.

“What’s his fucking problem?” Ben grunted, half directed at the woman, half to just say it.

She gave him a flat look. “You killed his family.” Before he could come up with a clever response, honest or dodging the annoying feeling of guilt forming in his throat, the woman turned from him and walked away.

———-

You were so tired. Your bones ached, oddly cold in a way you hadn’t felt in a while, your skin crawled with feverish chills, and when you closed your eyes, you could see the flames graze Hughie and the building turn to dust. As MM’s lingering calm he’d offered you faded, all you felt was tired. Worthless. A liability. You had fucked up, just as much as Soldier Boy. Maybe more so, because he had PTSD, even if he would deny being a “hung-up pussy”. He had lost control because he’d been tortured by Russians, you’d almost killed your friend and definitely destroyed a rec center because you’d been startled. You just wanted to sleep, to deal with the inevitable fight about groceries in the morning, running on more than quickly expiring adrenaline and caffeine pills stuck in your throat.

You made it to your room, changing into one of the pajama sets folded in your drawers, hoping someone mentioned that the allegedly fire-proof wardrobe you’d been given apparently wasn’t strong enough for the full force of your fire combined with Soldier Boy’s nuclear explosions. A shame, you’d liked the pants you’d chosen for the mission. You’d live without the jacket, though. You’d hardly pulled the shirt over your head when the door ripped open, a still suit-clad Soldier Boy standing at your door.

“What fucking happened to you?” His question was blunt and confusing as he entered your room, remaining near the door but over the threshold.

Your body was too heavy to fight with him right now. There was no tense prickling on the bridge of your nose, only the throbbing stab of a headache. “Go away, Soldier Boy.”

“All of you have a fucking thing. A weird, sad reason to whine around and pretend you’re better than me.” He didn’t budge, but rather leaned forward. “What’s yours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said I killed MM’s family. Butcher’s always pussying around about Homelander stealing his girl. Cocksucker mentioned something about that fast asshole doing something as well. I’m not sure what the French Prick bitches about, but I’m sure it’s something.”

“First of all, you did kill MM’s family.” You really don’t want to do this right now, but maybe he’ll give up and fuck off. A fruitless wish, a small part of you knows, but you have nothing left to push back with. “And Homelander didn’t ‘steal Butcher’s wife’, he raped her.”

“Right.” Soldier Boy watched you, his expression unreadable in the shadowy room. “Those are all fucking things. So tell me what yours is.”

“I don’t have one,” even as you speak the insistence, it sounded fake and hollow.

He takes another step forward. “Yes, you do. I saw how you froze, nobody without a thing locks up like that. I heard Cocksucker ask you if I ‘hurt you’. Just for the record, Sunshine, I may not be a Boy Scout, but I’m no fucking rapist.”

“You’ve tried to sleep with me thirty-three times.”

“And I’ll blow your mind when you realize how much you’d love it, no sooner. What’s your fucking thing.”

You stare at him, the intensity in his voice throwing you off. He’s insistent, comfortable in your room but standing at his full height, attention fixed entirely on you. That impression of dissection has returned—the feeling as if he’s trying to pick you apart for him to play with. “Why do you even care?”

“Because maybe if you tell me, I can kill what supe fucked up your pretty little head and you’ll be less of a bitch.”

You can’t stop the snort that escapes you. “What a selfish fucking cunt reason.”

He shrugged in something that could’ve been an agreement. “Maybe.” He falls silent, but doesn't leave.

You collapse to sit on the edge of your bed, staring ahead as you rub your temple. “Please just go.”

“No.”

You look at him, not caring if he sees the desperation in your eyes. “Can this not wait six hours for the morning?”

“No.”

“Do you know any words but no?” You mutter under your breath.

You didn’t miss his annoyed humph. “Oh, just fucking tell me.”

“No.” It was your turn to snap. Your exhaustion was becoming lined with bitter childishness, and you didn’t care enough to try and suppress your urge to sneer at him.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an idiotic, self-absorbed, sadist asshat who wouldn’t know empathy if it started sucking his dick.” You mocked.

He grinned. “Ok, now name my bad qualities.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll start guessing,” he took another step forward, now almost directly before you. “Did that red-headed lesbian steal your puppy?

You frowned up at him. “Maeve was bisexual.”

“Did Noir take credit for a college project?” He ignored your comment, leaning down with a mocking smirk.

“Trust me, I got all my dues in college.”

“Did that gay-for-Jesus blond steal your boyfriend? Did the fast asshole that stole Cocksucker’s girl break up with you? Did water-boy eat your goldfish?”

“I’ve never met Ezekiel, A-Train actually murdered Hughie’s girlfriend, and The Deep famously doesn’t eat seafood, he fucks it. But by all means, keep going.”

Soldier Boy blinked. “He fucks it?”

“Yep. It’s gross.” You shrug. “Are you done?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

You give a toothless smile. “Not until you get all your guesses out.”

“Oh?” There was unquestionable surprise in his voice at your relent, only making your fake cheer grow and your immature anger fully overtake you.

“I want you to feel like a real fucking asshole when I tell you.”

His face split open with a grin. “Well then, did the Twins kick you out of Herogasm? Did that bitch, Crimson Countess, overshadow your big debut? Did a Z-lister get more attention than you from the Vought pussies?”

You just raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms as Soldier Boy continued until the list of supes ran dry. As the last jeer left his mouth, he mirrored your face of cold amusement.

“Well?”

You leaned back, watching him closely as you spoke. “Homelander kidnapped me, kept me in a dungeon, raped me in an attempt to make more mini-Homelanders, and, after you returned, started experimenting on me to try and recreate the V used on you.”

A small shock rushed through you after you spoke. You hadn’t said any of that out loud, not fully, since you’d escaped. You danced around it with Butcher and his team, with Mallory and the CIA leaders, always picking and choosing parts to omit so nobody would look at you with pity and fear. It hadn’t worked, they did anyway, but there had still been control over it. Up until this moment, nobody had known why Homelander had done all those things to you. Everyone had seemed happy to chalk it up to him being a fucking psychopath, not anything deeper. Certainly not attempting to create a small army of additional Ryan Butchers. Small things were still yours, flashes of hunger and warped sounds remaining in your head, but everything else you had just told him.

Why did you do that? A voice hissed as the high from your petulance faded. Why did you let him win? Why did you give him a weapon to use that could hurt you?

But looking at him, he didn’t appear to be a portait of self-satisfaction and heartless triumph. He was staring at you, scanning you as though the scars Homelander left would be visible on your bare legs and arms. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t weak or coddling, but angry.

“He kept you locked up?”

You nod, part of you getting ready to fight him over something.

“He hurt you? To try and recreate me?” Your repeated nodding only seemed to inflate whatever was happening. “Did it hurt?”

Your arms and face started at that, an uncertain feeling spreading through you. There had been no reverent tone as Soldier Boy had asked the last question, no sadistic for affirmation. But you didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Why he even wanted to know. But an involuntarily honest answer escaped you. “Yes.”

He stared at you for another second before he opened his mouth, only to close it without making any sound. Abruptly, he whipped around and began to leave, giving you only one more indecipherable look as he closed the door behind him, leaving you on the edge of your bed, alone in your room.

You lay down slowly, half expecting him to storm back in at any moment, but minutes passed, quickly turning into a half hour, and your body sat at the edge of collapse once more. Soon it was unbearable, and you lay down, your racing mind being forced to a halt as sleep pulled you under.

Your sleep, as had been the case for a while now, was haunted by nightmares of blue eyes and yellow, fluorescent lights. You woke up in a cold sweat, and took a long, needlessly warm shower before forcing yourself to leave your room around 9:30. Despite your lingering fatigue, no part of you wasn’t restless as you walked down the stairs. Your body tense and ready to run, your head spinning with hypotheticals and lining up words you may need—that feeling under your skin creeping up your spine and fluttering in your gut. But Soldier Boy wasn’t in the living room or the hall. You poked your head in the dining room, hoping to avoid the minefield of the kitchen, but it was empty, the plastic chandelier lights off, the table occupied only by a vase of wilted flowers. You moved to the kitchen, ringing growing in your ears, but he wasn’t there. You turned to walk away, continue your search, but double-back as it hit you.

Nothing was in the kitchen. It was empty. Of Soldier Boy, and of the groceries MM said would be delivered.

You wandered in slowly, watching the counters as if they might start to glitch and flicker, revealing hidden produce and dirty dishes. But, leaning over the sink, there was a single plate, soaking in water that was dotted with crumbs. Slowly, you moved to the refrigerator, slowly opening it as you glanced around the room. Your eyes widened at the sight inside. Milk, drinks, and produce had been placed inside, disorganized and haphazardly. There was a jar of mayonnaise in the fresh drawer, along with a box of pasta on a side shelf, but the fridge was full. You moved quickly to the pantry, which had been sorted in a similar fashion, but filled. And when you opened the last cabinet, you saw a piece of paper stuck under a jar of peanut butter.

I know I did a shit job. Clean up if it bothers you, but don't bitch to me about it. And tell Mallory to get smooth peanut butter next time, or I’m not doing anything for her but killing Homelander - Ben

[genderkoolaid]

curious if you have any thoughts on the moral panic of “porn addiction”

this ask is 100% inspired by an argument im currently having in the notes of your post about booktok smut (someone gave me the link to a southern baptist lobbying group as proof that porn causes brain damage and i am just. in awe)

& I hope you know how much I value your efforts <3

In my first ever sociology class my teacher showed us a documentary on porn addiction. He was otherwise a cool guy, but leaned radical feminist and it really showed in that unit. The doc starts with a little white child playing on a playground, which was just absurdly emotionally manipulative to me. & throughout the documentary the "experts" were all people who financially benefited from the idea of porn addiction (sex therapists, book authors), they said blatantly incorrect information, and never once explained to the audience the controversy surrounding the term or showcase the opinions of sex workers or people engaged in BDSM and kink.

This is all to say that my experience with porn addiction has been that its often discussed by earnest people with genuine concerns, but the way it is conceptualized and understood is shaped by anti-sex bias & whorephobia. It capitalizes on fears of sex outside monogamous heterosexual vanilla marriage as an intoxicating poison equivalent to alcohol, but causing moral instead of physical illness. When there are real problems related to someone's interaction with porn, the blame is misdirected because of that anti-sex bias. It shouldn't surprise anyone that the people most invested in the idea of porn addiction are conservative Christians (and red-pill types who are also anti-masturbation. Imagine being a misogynist and stigmatizing jerking it? Sad!)

Pornography Use and Psychological Science: A Call for Consideration (article)

What Do We Know About the Effects of Pornography After Fifty Years of Academic Research? (book)

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 8

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: The next few days pass by in a rush, but you've never been happier. That is until Scott reappears and decides to restart old drama. Word Count: 3872 TW: Heavy Making Out, Kissing, Undressing Each Other, Grinding, Tyler Picks Reader Up Briefly, Fingering, Confrontation, Family Drama, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, and @seeyalaterinnovator for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever and @green-socks for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

The next five days passed in a blur, yet they were some of the best of your life. Every morning, Tyler met you at your door with a smile and a kiss. Then you’d walk downstairs together and join the other Wranglers for breakfast. Afterward, you packed up and rode with Tyler and Boone as you chased after a few tornados. 

While you no longer had that initial anxiety like you did on your first chase, you never got tired of the breathtaking feeling as the storm hit the front of the truck and you passed through the heart of the funnel. That rush of adrenaline surging through you never lessened, and you understood why the Wranglers continued to do this after so long. 

After each chase, Boone and Lily reviewed the footage he captured, Dani inspected Tyler’s truck for any damage, and Dexter began checking for any more potential storms forming in the area. Meanwhile, you and Tyler would sneak off for some time alone together. Sometimes it would be in the bed of his truck, sometimes in the middle of an empty field, and, one time, even on the top of Dani and Dexter’s van. 

Most of the time, you kept things fairly PG—just some making out, snuggling against his chest while he held you, or him laying his head in your lap while you played with his hair. But occasionally, things would drift into a little more mature nature. You still had only known Tyler for less than a week and didn’t want to move too quickly, but sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. A few times after an exceptionally exhilarating storm or when Tyler was being extra sweet, you found yourself straddling his lap, grinding against him as his hand cupped your breasts. 

These moments often ended with the two of you panting heavily next to each other while you gave Tyler a few minutes to calm down so he could walk back to the rest of the crew. Though you knew you weren’t fooling anyone about what you were getting up to, no one said anything. However, you did catch Boone, Dani, and Lily exchanging a few pointed glances and snickering. If Tyler noticed, he didn’t let on. He just wrapped his arm across your shoulders and walked towards his truck with a big ol’ grin on his face.

Then, later once everyone had settled into their new accommodations for the night, Tyler would walk you to your room and say good night. Every time it became harder and harder to watch him walk away. You wanted him so badly and not just on a physical level. Sure, he was the most attractive man you’d ever kissed, but the more you learned about him—the more you got to know his personality, humor, and intelligence— the more you needed him to fuck your brains out. 

But that was the old you talking. The new you was trying to restrain yourself and build a solid foundation before taking this steer for a ride, but damn if it wasn’t frustrating. To make matters worse, you had planned to spend this trip with your brother, potentially sharing a room, so you hadn’t packed anything that would help you work out those frustrations. So every night when Tyler left you alone—lightheaded, wet, and needy—all you had was the almost non-existent pressure from the motel shower head and your own hand for any relief. 

As much as you were trying to behave, all it was going to take was one small thing for your cracking resolve to crumble completely.

The Wranglers changed motels almost every night since the storms sometimes took them hours away from where they started their day. However, all the chasers tended to follow the same storm cells so they all ended up in roughly the same location each night. 

Since receiving Javi’s note, you had spotted Scott several times. Sometimes it was at a gas station or a dinner, but most often it was at the motel as everyone settled in for the night or prepared to roll out in the morning. In each instance, you tried your best to stay out of his sight or not draw attention to yourself. At this point, you honestly couldn’t care less about what Scott thought of you or your being here. All of your focus was now on Tyler and the Wranglers. However, you knew Scott was still angry you were hanging around so you figured it was just easier to avoid him than to continue to poke the very grumpy, gum-chewing bear. 

But apparently, he had other plans.

On your ninth day in Oklahoma, Tyler picked you up at your room like always, planting a kiss on your lips and sliding your backpack onto his shoulder as soon as you opened the door. However, it was only when you were both at the bottom of the stairs that you remembered you had left your toothbrush on the sink to dry. He offered to run back and get it for you, but you waved him off, insisting you could go while he loaded everything into the truck. You could see it went against every courteous bone in his body, but he reluctantly agreed though you could feel his eyes on you until you disappeared at the top of the stairs. 

Luckily, you hadn’t returned your key to the drop box yet so you could enter the room, grab your toothbrush (which was sitting smack in the middle of the counter clear a day), and hurry back to the stairs all in less than thirty seconds. 

Crossing the parking lot, you spotted Tyler storing your backpack in the back of the truck and were about to start jogging over when a voice from behind you said, “So, it’s been over a week. When are you going to call off this little charade of yours?”

Sighing, you stopped and turned to face your brother. “It’s not a charade. I like the Wranglers and I’m having fun. I’m sorry if you don’t like that, but I’ve tried to stay out of your way. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

Standing with his hands on his hips and his sunglasses tucked into his button-down’s front pocket, he snapped. “I want you to go home.”

“Scotty—”

“And stop calling me that!” Scott’s nostrils flared as his eyes burned beneath the bill of his hat. “I’m not ten anymore and this is still my place of work even if you treat it like a theme park. Some of us are trying to do a job while you play daredevil and make out with your latest boy toy.”

You knew he was pushing for a fight, but you physically bit your tongue to not take the bait. Ignoring his last outburst, you answered his previous question in a calm voice. “I’ll go home in a few days like I planned. Until then…Scott…” You dipped your head and resumed your walk. 

Looking ahead, you noticed Tyler had stopped packing and was leaning against the side of the truck, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes following your every step. You could tell by his rigid posture and stony expression that he heard what you and Scott said. You were about to give him a small wave to let him know everything was alright, but, before you could, Scott called after you.

“Hey! What is it that you want? An apology?” he shouted, his face turning slightly red. “You want me to say I’m sorry for getting angry that you showed up unannounced to where I work with the hope of just inserting yourself into the middle of a dangerous and highly complex situation? You want me to say I’ve learned my lesson after watching you throw yourself at Owens every chance you get? Hmm? That watching him jam his tongue down my little sister’s throat while broadcasting it to the entire fucking world showed me how wrong I was? Would that make you happy?”

Turning back around, you said, “I don’t want you to do anything unless you want to and you mean it. But, you know what—” you threw your arms into the air “—you were right.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed slightly as he examined you, searching for what kind of trick you were trying to pull now. “I was?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “I shouldn’t have just showed up without asking first but I knew if I had, you’d have told me no. Well, actually, you’d have told me ‘fuck no’. So I figured it would be better to ask for forgiveness than permission and I just showed up. I did fall back on that self-centered, ‘everything works out for me’ person I once was and I’m sorry. It was exactly that behavior I came here to show you I had outgrown.”

Taking a few steps closer to your brother, you added, “But, Scott, let's be real. You wouldn’t have actually answered my phone calls or texts if I had tried to ask. We barely ever talk and the only times I see you are at Christmas, Thanksgiving, and, occasionally, someone’s birthday. But I wanted to change that. I wanted to try to rebuild this relationship before it was too late. Before we drift so far apart that there’s no finding a way back. I still want my big brother in my life, but now I’m afraid all I did was push you even further away.”

You waited for him to say something, to assure you he still wanted that too or that you had screwed things up past the point of redemption. But when he just stared at the ground with his jaw clenched, you nodded, wiping a tear from your cheek. “So, I promise, I’m done playing games or trying to force a relationship between us. I’ll stay out of your way as much as possible while I’m here but I’m not ready to leave yet. I know that may not be fair to you and I’m sorry. I’ll see about staying at a different motel than Storm PAR from now on—one less place for you to have to see me.” You turned to leave, but paused to add, “The next time I’ll contact you is right before I leave. That way you’ll know when I’ll be out of your hair. Until then, you have my number if you change your mind and want to talk.” Wiping a few more tears off your face as you walked away.

It hurt, being so vulnerable and laying out how you felt only to get absolutely no response in return. You hadn’t expected Scott to wrap you in a tight hug and promise things would be sunshine and rainbows from here on out, but you had hoped he would at least acknowledge your feelings in some way. But then again, this was Scott you were talking about. You couldn’t remember the last time he had ever given you a hug or compliment that he wasn’t forced into giving you. Maybe it was time to just let him go and stop trying to force something that was never going to happen. Maybe both of you would be happier in the long run.

As you neared, Tyler pushed off the side of the truck and asked, “Everything okay or do I need to step in?”

“Nah, we’re good. But thank you for offering.” You wrapped your arms around Tyler’s waist, leaning your head on his shoulder as he returned the embrace. Smiling into his chest, you said, “And thank you for not just coming over and jumping in when you saw things starting to get heated. Most guys I know would have barged over the minute they saw us and it would have turned into a huge fight. Instead, I was able to say some things that needed to be said.”

“I knew you could handle yourself.” He squeezed you tighter. Then he muttered, “Besides, I’m not most guys.”

“I’ve noticed,” you grinned as you recalled a similar conversation the two of you had the first morning he had picked you up at your room. “And I’m so grateful for that.” 

He kissed the top of your head then released you. “So, we ready to go?”

You nodded and he opened the passenger door to his truck. As he helped you in, you looked up to see Scott watching you. Since you had last seen him, he had slipped his sunglasses on so you had trouble reading his expression. You gave him a nod with a small smile but he just turned and disappeared behind Scarecrow. You felt Tyler squeeze your hand and knew he noticed the exchange as well. Taking a deep breath, you finished climbing in and settled into your seat. But as Tyler drove his truck from the parking lot, you couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in your gut that that might have been the last time you saw your brother for a long time.

Looking out the window, you stared at the empty fields whooshing past. Everything here was so open and untouched. Normally, you viewed it as a nice change from the crowded, bustling city you came from, but today, it just made you feel so small and alone. 

As if sensing what you were feeling, Tyler reached over and took your hand as he drove. You gave it a quick squeeze of acknowledgment but your eyes remained gazing out the window. Boone had opted to ride with Lily until you reached a potential storm, so the only sound that filled the cab was the soft droning of country music turned down so low you couldn’t make out any of the lyrics. It was a far cry from the joyous laughter and deep conversations the two of you usually shared on these rides, but with your talk with Scott running through your head, you couldn’t focus on much else.

After about twenty minutes, Tyler finally broke the silence. “Hey, something you said to Scott got me thinking…”

“Hmm?” You ran your finger over a smudge of dust on the passenger’s window. “About what?”

“Why don’t you stay?”

Snapping out of your ruminations, your head whipped around to look at Tyler. “W-what?”

“I mean, you’re only supposed to be here for another five days, right?” He shrugged, “But what if you stayed longer?”

You blinked, suddenly realizing you and Tyler had never talked about your upcoming departure or what that would mean for the two of you. “I-I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. Do…do you want me to stay?”

Tyler chuckled, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to. I realize eventually this’ll have to come to an end or something’ll have to change, but I’d like to spend as much time with you as I can before that happens.”

“Oh.” You felt the heat rushing to your face and a smile creeping across your lips. “In that case, I mean, I have classes starting soon that I’d have to be back for. But, yeah, since you want me to, I think I could manage a week or so longer than I originally planned. I’ll just have to call and move my flight.”

“I’d really like that,” Tyler said with a grin. “And let me know what it costs to change it. I’ll take care of it.”

Tears filled your eyes. You had the money, it was not an issue. But Tyler’s offer just solidified in your mind how much he actually wanted you to stay. He wasn’t just suggesting it to cheer you up after talking to Scott—he meant it. 

With a slight tremble in your voice, you said, “Ty, I—”

“Hope I’m not interrupting you lovebirds, but Dex just spotted a potential cell to the east forming fast.”

Dani’s voice cut through the cabin. You knew Tyler’s radio had been switched off so no one heard what you had been talking about, but you still sunk back in your seat. 

Tyler shot you an apologetic look then switched on his radio and responded. “We copy. Let’s pull off up here. Dexter can show us where we’re heading, Lily, we’ll need you to get Cairo ready to fly, and Boone, come join us up here once we park. Sound good?”

“All good, boss,” came the echoed reply. 

Tyler switched the radio back off and glanced at you. “Anything else you wanna say before things get crazy or you wanna pick up this conversation later?”

“We can talk later. Thank you, Tyler.”

He squeezed your hand before turning his focus back to the road as he looked for a place to pull off. You leaned your head against the window and stared back out at the field, the gears already turning in your head. 

You didn’t want to talk. If today had shown you anything, it was that you were ready to show Tyler how you felt. 

No one commented or asked questions when Tyler informed the crew that they would be staying at a motel a little farther away than originally planned. You had been nervous about asking him to go to a different motel than Storm PAR, but apparently, he heard your promise to Scott and remembered without you having to say a word. Taking his hand from where it rested on the center console, you kissed the back of it before resting your cheek against it. Tyler glanced over at you and smiled, acknowledging your silent ‘thank you’.

Usually, Tyler walked you to your room as soon as the vehicles were parked and your bag was unloaded. However, tonight you insisted on staying downstairs to help everyone with their nighttime routines. Tyler seemed a little surprised but was more than happy for your company. He showed you all the checks he, Boone, and Dani ran on the truck each night to ensure everything was still functioning correctly. Lily let you help her charge up Cairo and download all the footage she captured today. And Dexter asked you to prep the food for breakfast in the morning. You never realized how much the Wranglers had to do each night while you sat alone in your motel room. But you promised to help out from now on.

When everything was finally done, Tyler grinned widely at you—his dimples on full display—and grabbed your bag. The two of you didn’t talk as he walked you to your room, but you snuggled close to him, listening to his heart beating beneath your cheek. 

Far too soon, you reached your room. Just like every night, you unlocked the door and Tyler handed you your backpack. However, tonight instead of keeping ahold of the bag, you tossed it inside the room, not bothering to look where it landed. 

Turning back to Tyler, you fluttered your eyelashes and asked, “So, Mr. Owens, care to join me inside?”

Tyler's eyes grew wide as he swallowed, his Adam's apple leaping in his throat. Stepping closer until he towered over you, he whispered, “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

You nodded, just a soft dip of your head. “I think it’s time I invited this cowboy in.” And you stepped back to give him space to enter the room. 

You knew it wasn’t your smoothest pick-up line, but when all you could think about was how much you needed him, you were surprised you could string a coherent sentence together. However, Tyler didn’t seem to mind. He hesitated for a second then stepped over the threshold into your room. 

For the past few days, you and Tyler had been making out every chance you got, yet the energy between you already felt so different. This time, you both knew there was no need to hold back. The second the door clicked shut, Tyler grabbed your waist and spun you around. Driving you backward, he pinned you against the door with his body as his lips ensnared yours. You melted against him with a moan. Running your fingers under his cowboy hat, you tugged on his hair as his tongue slipped between your lips. 

Needing to feel more of him against your skin, you pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side. Tyler stumbled back for a moment, his eyes drinking you in, and then he launched forward, sweeping you into his arms. His mouth latched onto your collarbone and he began to suck hungrily as if his life depended on it. You could already tell you would have a mark there in the morning, but you didn’t dare tell him to stop. 

As he helped you shimmy out of your shorts, your fingers fumbled blindly with the buttons on his flannel shirt. You moaned into his mouth as your hands brushed against his muscular bare chest for the first time. Your fingers traveled lower, tracing along his firm stomach until you felt his coarse trail of hair leading down to the top of his jeans, and your core clenched against nothing. The emptiness within you was becoming unbearable.

You moaned as you rubbed against him, “Ty, I need you inside me. Please. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Detaching himself from your neck, he murmured, “Patience is a virtue, my beautiful girl. And you’ve been so good.” You whimpered as the praise shot straight through you. “Now it’s time for your reward.”

Lifting you up, Tyler carried you over to your bed. He laid you down gently on the edge then stood back to gaze down at you. However, as you reached back to unhook your bra, he grabbed your hands before you could slip it off.

Chest heaving, he stared deep into your eyes. “Sweetheart, if you want to stop—”

Shoving him away, you let your bra drop to the floor as you demanded, “Take your pants off.”

That was all Tyler needed to hear. Quickly, he yanked off his boots and unclasped his trademark buckle, the metal clinking loudly as he tore his jeans off and tossed them to the other side of the room. Standing there in nothing but his black boxer briefs, he was a sight to behold but you wanted more. 

And, always the gentleman, Tyler seemed ready to oblige.

Pulling you down so your ass rested on the edge of the bed, Tyler hooked one finger into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them off. Hunger darkened his usually pale green eyes as the last of your clothes joined the pile on the floor. He groaned and palmed himself through his underwear and you felt a rush of pride that you could make him react like that. 

Running one hand through his hair, you tugged on it so he looked at your face. “I know you’re out of practice, Mr. Ex-Bull Rider, but I expect you to last more than eight seconds.”

He chuckled as he grabbed your knees and thrust your legs apart. Slowly, he slid two fingers into his mouth and pulled them out with a pop. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t worry about me.” 

He plunged his fingers deep into you, causing you to collapse back onto the bed as your world went white. 

Part 9 coming 10/7!

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[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Chains of Destiny - Eva (Ch.1)

Summary: X-men including Logan, are being sent to retrieve a young mutant woman from a experiment facility. However, not everything goes as planned.

Content Warning: mean Logan, like he's actually a jerk here. Hurt, pain, angst (hell a lot of it), mentions of torture, experiments, violence, mentiones of suicide/wanting to die,

Author's note: So I actually planned on this series for a while. Not gonna lie Deadpool and Wolverine gave me a bit of a push to finally publish this series. Keep in mind that this does not take place during Deadpool 3 timeline. This series will have lots of angst so brace yourselves and I really hope you will all love it the same way I love writing it ❤️

Word count: 8 326

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of technology from the giant monitor hanging on the wall. Around the long, metallic table sat the core members of the X-Men—Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Jean Grey, Hank McCoy, and Logan, who sat at the far end, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed as he stared at the screen.

Charles Xavier sat at the head of the table, his hands folded in front of him. The image on the screen showed a grainy surveillance feed from the inside of the lab they were about to raid. It was dark, but even through the low-quality footage, they could see her—Eva. Curled up in a glass cell, arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly ahead. Her small frame seemed fragile, but the readings from Cerebro painted a different picture entirely.

“She’s been in there for years,” Charles began, his voice calm and measured. “A captive, used as an experiment by a faction of scientists attempting to create new, enhanced mutants.”

Jean’s brow furrowed, her eyes full of concern. “They’ve been adding mutations to her, manipulating her DNA. That’s… unethical doesn’t even begin to describe it. How has she survived this long?”

“Barely,” Charles answered softly. “She’s had to endure unimaginable pain. Not just from the mutations, but from the emotional and psychological torment. One of her powers allows her to absorb the pain and injuries of others, healing them at her own expense. But it’s more than that. It’s not just physical. She absorbs their emotional damage too. She’s a living conduit for others’ suffering.”

Ororo closed her eyes for a moment, her voice thick with empathy. “No one should have to endure that. We have to help her.”

Scott nodded. “She’s a mutant, and she’s in danger. That makes it our responsibility to get her out of there.” 

Logan leaned forward in his chair, his face twisting into a scowl. “Hold on a second.” His voice was rough, laced with irritation. “You’ve read her file, Chuck. You know what she’s capable of. That kind of power? You really think it’s a good idea to bring her here? She’s a damn walking nuke. You touch her, and she’s in your head, messing with your emotions, maybe worse. That’s if she doesn’t blast you halfway across the room with her force repulsion or whatever the hell it is.”

Jean glanced at Logan, her brow creasing with concern. “She’s been through hell, Logan. She didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I get that,” Logan shot back, his voice sharp, “but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s dangerous. You saw what happened in the last raid when we tried to bring in that mutant with the volatile powers. He almost brought the whole damn building down.”

“Eva isn’t a threat by choice,” Charles interjected, his tone steady, though there was a quiet firmness to it. “She’s been conditioned, pushed to her limits. The trauma she’s endured has caused her to lose control. But she is not beyond saving.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, a growl rumbling low in his throat. “That’s the thing, though, ain’t it? Control. She’s got none. We storm that lab, and she could go off on us just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “and you know it. You’re askin’ us to walk into a situation where we don’t know if we’ll be able to handle her if she flips out.”

“Her powers make her volatile, yes,” Hank spoke up, his deep, thoughtful voice cutting through the tension. “But we’ve faced dangerous powers before. If we don’t act, she will continue to suffer. And from the looks of this lab, it’s only a matter of time before they push her to the breaking point. We have to try.”

“Try?” Logan scoffed. “What if trying gets us killed? Or worse—what if she turns into something none of us can handle?” 

Scott, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Logan. “We know the risks. But that doesn’t change our mission. We don’t abandon our own, especially not someone who’s been tortured like this.”

“Yeah, well, maybe this time we should think about it,” Logan muttered, his eyes narrowing. “She’s not one of us. Not yet. We don’t even know who she is.” 

“Logan.” Jean’s voice was soft but firm, a note of understanding in it. “You know better than anyone what it’s like to be taken and turned into something against your will.” 

Her words hung in the air like a weight, and for a moment, Logan’s scowl deepened. His hands clenched into fists, his claws threatening to extend. He hated being reminded of what had been done to him—of the experiments, the torture, the mind games that had turned him into a weapon. He’d spent years fighting to control the rage, to stop himself from becoming the monster they tried to make him. 

But this girl… she was different. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t hardened by battle, wasn’t tempered by a lifetime of violence. She was a raw nerve, and in Logan’s mind, that made her more dangerous than any enemy they’d faced.

“She’s not ready for this world,” Logan said, his voice lower now, but no less intense. “She’s not ready for what happens if she loses it. And we sure as hell ain’t ready for her.” 

Charles met Logan’s gaze evenly, unflinching. “I understand your hesitation, Logan. Truly. But this girl needs us. She’s been used and discarded, treated as nothing more than an experiment. If we don’t intervene, she’ll die in that lab. And if we leave her there, she may very well become the very thing you fear—a weapon. But if we bring her here, if we can reach her, she has a chance at something more. A chance to be more than what they’ve tried to make her.”

Logan grunted, looking away. He could feel the weight of the room’s eyes on him, but it didn’t change the knot of unease twisting in his gut. He didn’t trust this situation. Something about it felt wrong, and his instincts were screaming at him to walk away.

But the problem was, he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to turn his back, he couldn’t ignore the part of him that remembered what it was like to be the one trapped, the one without control.

Finally, after a long pause, Logan let out a rough sigh. “Fine. We go in, we get her out. But don’t expect me to play nice if she goes feral.”

Charles nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you, Logan. We’ll do everything we can to make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

Logan stood up from his chair, cracking his neck as he moved toward the door. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t end up regrettin’ this.”

As Logan stalked out of the room, Ororo exchanged a glance with Scott, who sighed softly. “He’ll come around,” Scott said, though there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“He always does,” Jean murmured, watching the door where Logan had disappeared. “Eventually.”

Charles sat back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the image of Eva on the screen once again. Her small, frail figure was a stark contrast to the power that resided within her.

“She will need time,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. “But I believe in her potential. She is more than what they’ve tried to make her.”

And with that, the plan was set. They were going to get Eva out of that lab. Whether or not she could ever be truly free from what had been done to her, though, was another question entirely.

*** 

They needed to act quickly. No one was here for now, but they didn’t when they would be back.

The sharp scent of antiseptic and cold metal filled the underground lab, the walls lined with sterile, reflective surfaces that amplified the clinical horror of the place. Logan led the way. His claws twitched within his knuckles, ready to spring at any moment. Behind him, Storm, Jean and Cyclops moved in silence, their eyes scanning the corridor for any threats. They had heard rumors of this lab—where scientists experimented on mutants—but nothing had prepared them for the twisted reality.

Then Logan's senses sharpened.

"She's close," he growled, his voice barely a whisper, yet thick with urgency.

The lab was dimly lit, sterile, and cold. The sharp scent of chemicals hung in the air, mixed with something darker—something that stank of pain and fear. The X-Men moved quietly, their boots silent against the sleek metal floors. 

“Chuck better be damn sure about this one,” he muttered under his breath, his fists clenched tight. “I ain’t buyin’ this ‘save the girl’ crap.”

Jean turned her head slightly, giving Logan a sharp look. “You know she didn’t choose this, Logan. She’s a victim.”

“Yeah? You tellin’ me she’s not dangerous?” Logan’s voice was a low growl, tinged with irritation. “Because I’ve seen plenty of ‘victims’ go off and take half a town with ‘em.”

“She’s a kid,” Storm cut in, her voice firm but calm. “She’s been tortured. She needs help.”

Logan rolled his eyes, his claws itching to come out. This whole mission felt wrong to him. Saving people? Fine. But saving a mutant who could, at any second, go berserk and tear them all apart? Not so fine.

“You’re all thinkin’ with your hearts,” he muttered, his tone harsh. “And that’s a good way to get us all killed. Just sayin’.”

Cyclops shot him a look, his jaw tightening. “We’re here to help her, Logan. If you can’t handle that, maybe you should’ve stayed at the mansion.”

Logan sneered, his lip curling. “Maybe I shoulda.”

But he didn’t. Despite every instinct telling him to turn around and walk away, he came along. Part of him didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way Charles had looked at him, that quiet conviction in his voice when he said, “She needs us, Logan.”

Logan had heard those words before. He’d been the one who needed saving once. And yeah, he’d been dangerous too. But it didn’t mean he had to like this mission—or trust this girl.

They rounded a corner and found a room that reeked of fear. Through a cracked glass wall, Logan saw her—huddled in the corner, shackled to a metal chair. Her appearance was fragile, like a broken bird too wounded to fly. Tangled hair fell over her face, and her body seemed emaciated, but the air around her pulsed with something dangerous. 

Logan’s stomach tightened as he looked at her. She was small, fragile-looking, her eyes hollow, like she hadn’t seen anything good in a long time. But that wasn’t what set him on edge. No, it was the raw power he could feel rolling off her in waves, even though the thick glass. She was a bomb. One wrong move, and she’d go off.

“Let’s get her out of there,” Cyclops said, moving toward the controls.

Logan bristled, stepping forward. “Wait. What’s the plan here, huh? We just let her loose, hope she’s all sunshine and rainbows?”

 “Logan,” Jean said, her voice steady, “we can calm her down. She’s scared. She’s not going to hurt us.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the last guy who thought he had a handle on a mutant with no control.” Logan’s voice was hard, his eyes narrowed. “That guy ended up in pieces.”

Cyclops sighed, clearly losing patience. “Logan, we didn’t come here to debate this. We came here to get her out. Stand aside.”

Logan didn’t move, his eyes locked on the girl. Something in his gut twisted, but he shoved it aside. “Fine,” he muttered. “But when this goes sideways, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

The glass door slid open with a low hiss, and for a moment, nothing happened. Eva didn’t move, didn’t even look up. She was still, like an animal caught in a trap, waiting for something worse to happen.

Jean stepped forward, her voice gentle. “Eva? We’re here to help you. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Logan snorted under his breath. Safe. Yeah, right.

Storm moved forward. "We’re here to help," she said gently, trying to project calm through her voice. Her hand moved to the console, disengaging the restraints that held the girl. The moment the locks clicked open, the girl lifted her head.

At first, Eva didn’t respond. But then her eyes flicked up, and Logan saw it—the fear, the confusion. And beneath it, a barely contained surge of raw, unchecked power..

Before anyone could say a word, Eva’s body tensed, and Logan’s instincts screamed at him. Something snapped inside her, a ripple of energy that exploded outward.

“Shit!” Logan barely had time to react before the force hit him, slamming into his chest like a freight train and sending him flying back into the wall with a grunt. The others were thrown back as well, but Jean managed to hold up a telekinetic shield just in time to soften the blow.

Logan hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him. His head spun as he pushed himself up, his vision blurry for a moment. “Goddamn it,” he snarled.

Cyclops struggled to his feet, his visor sparking. “Jean, calm her down, now!”

“I’m trying!” Jean said, her voice strained as she reached out mentally, but Eva’s panic was overwhelming. The raw emotions she absorbed from the team—fear, frustration, Logan’s anger—were feeding her powers, making them spiral out of control.

Logan gritted his teeth, claws snapping out instinctively. His healing factor allowed him to push through the pain, but it didn’t stop the girl’s attack. The forcefield around her shimmered, pulsating with her terror. She backed into a corner, eyes wide with an animalistic rage, and her breathing was ragged, panicked.

Logan got back on his feet, his body aching from the impact, but he was pissed now. “This is what I’m talkin’ about!” he growled, stalking forward, his claws gleaming. “You can’t control her!” 

Eva’s eyes darted wildly, her chest heaving as waves of energy pulsed off her, distorting the air around her. Her hands trembled, her face twisted in terror. She was completely out of control, her powers lashing out blindly.

"Stay back!" she screamed. "I don’t—don’t come near me!"

Logan pushed himself up, panting. "We’re not here to hurt ya, kid," he said, voice gruff but calmer than before, trying to anchor her in the chaos of her mind. But her eyes had already glazed over—she was lost to the overwhelming storm inside her.

“Eva!” Jean called, her voice soothing but desperate. “Please, you need to stop!” 

But it was no use. Eva couldn’t hear her over the roar of her own panic. 

Logan moved in, fast and low, dodging another pulse of energy that nearly sent him sprawling. His patience was shot, his temper flaring hot. He’d warned them. He’d told them this was a bad idea. And now this girl was about to bring the whole lab down on top of them. 

“Enough of this!” Logan snarled, charging at her with his claws raised. 

Eva’s eyes snapped to him, her panic morphing into raw fear, and without thinking, she thrust her hands out. A blast of energy hit Logan square in the chest, sending him flying back again, slamming into a steel pillar with a bone-rattling crash.

“Dammit!” Logan spat, coughing as he got back to his feet, his ribs screaming in protest. His vision blurred for a second, rage bubbling inside him. “I told you!” he shouted at Cyclops, who was trying to keep his balance. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

Eva staggered back, her body trembling violently. She looked at Logan with wide, terrified eyes, realizing what she’d done. She hadn’t meant to. She didn’t want to hurt him. But the damage was done.

Logan’s gaze locked on hers, filled with fury and mistrust. “You’re gonna kill us all, kid,” he growled, his voice rough, dripping with venom.

“Logan, stop!” Jean shouted, stepping between them. “You’re making it worse!”

“Worse? You think it can get worse than this?” Logan barked, his eyes blazing with anger. “She’s a loose cannon, and you’re all actin’ like she’s some poor helpless kid. She’s not! She’s a damn weapon!” 

Eva’s breath hitched, her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes. She wasn’t a weapon. She wasn’t a monster. But that’s all they saw, wasn’t it? That’s all she’d ever be to anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“Yeah?” Logan’s voice was sharp, cutting into her like a knife. “Well, you did.” 

Before Eva could respond, Storm stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding. “Logan, enough.” 

Logan’s scowl deepened, but he backed off, his claws retracting with a sharp snikt. He shot an angry glare at Eva, his eyes filled with mistrust. “If you can’t control yourself, you don’t belong out here.” 

Eva’s heart clenched, her body trembling as she took a step back. The pain in Logan’s words cut deeper than any wound. She didn’t want to be this way. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. But all she ever seemed to do was cause more pain.

A tidal wave of agony and fear threatened to consume her. Haunting recollections of torment, of relentless experimentation, surged through the maze of her mind. The harsh utterances of the man had become a ceaseless refrain since her arrival here. She was reduced to nothing more than an implement of warfare, forged for the benefit of others. Her emotions, her own inner turmoil, were inconsequential. She was bereft of care or compassion. 

Tears welled up in her eyes, a dam of pent-up emotion threatening to break. The potency of his words was such that it cleaved her to the quick, opening fresh wounds and exposing deeply buried insecurities in her already scarred heart. He needed to grasp the truth, he needed to comprehend the reality of her existence: she was no monster.  

Her presence here was not a matter of choice, but rather of necessity.

Without warning, she lunged at him. Her hand made contact with his arm, and suddenly, a flood of raw emotions poured into him. Fear. Pain. Desperation. The weight of all the suffering she had endured hit Logan like a punch to the gut. His mind reeled as her powers synced with his, letting him feel what she felt.  

The room distorted around him—her memories blurring into his thoughts. Logan saw flashes: needles piercing her skin, the cold, merciless faces of scientists, the endless nights spent in isolation. Every ounce of agony and torture she’d endured slammed into him, nearly buckling his knees. 

"Get out of my head!" Logan snarled, shaking her off. But it was too late—her power had taken hold, binding their emotions together like a knot. 

"Logan!" Cyclops shouted, firing a quick burst from his optic blast. The force knocked her back, but only momentarily. The girl screamed again, and this time her forcefield flared with blinding intensity, hurling them all across the room. 

Storm shot into the air, lightning crackling around her as she tried to contain the energy swirling around the girl. "We have to neutralize her, Logan—she can’t control it!" 

"I know!" he barked, struggling to regain his balance as another pulse of energy sent a chair crashing into the wall. His claws slid back into place. He could see it in the girl’s eyes—she wasn’t attacking them out of malice. It was terror. Pure, unbridled terror. But it didn’t matter. Right now, she was a threat. 

Logan moved toward her again, determined this time. "Listen, kid," he growled, "I know what they did to you. But we’re not them. You’ve gotta stop—" 

She didn’t. Her hand shot up, and suddenly Logan was on the floor, his ribs burning as her force slammed him again. But this time, before she could do more damage, a blinding streak of light shot through the air. Cyclops’ blast hit her square in the chest, knocking her unconscious. Her body crumpled, and the forcefield flickered out. 

The room fell silent. 

Logan dragged himself to his feet, clutching his side. "Dammit," he muttered under his breath, shaking the lingering disorientation from his head. 

Storm knelt beside the unconscious girl, her expression a mix of sympathy and concern. "She's just a kid, Logan," she whispered.

"Doesn't change what she can do," he replied, his voice low and dangerous.

Cyclops approached cautiously, his visor still glowing faintly. "We need to get her back to the mansion. Charles might be able to help her... stabilize."

Logan glanced at the girl’s fragile form, her face calm in sleep but haunted by the shadows of what she had been through. Something in him twisted. She was broken, just like him—but there was something more dangerous about her. Something darker.  

"Maybe," Logan grunted. But his eyes lingered on her longer than he intended. He couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how much they tried to help her, she was a ticking time bomb. And no one—not Charles, not the X-Men, not even himself—would be able to stop her if she went off again. 

Cyclops looked at Logan, as though sensing his unease. "You think we’re making a mistake?"

Logan snorted. "I don’t trust her." His gaze remained hard, unyielding. "And I don’t think she trusts us either." 

They gathered the girl carefully, carrying her out of the lab. But as they left the cold steel behind, Logan couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion in his gut. Something about her still clawed at his instincts. 

And Logan always trusted his instincts.

***

The X-Men team arrived back at the school in the early hours of the morning. The sky was still dark, the stars barely visible against the approaching dawn. The mansion loomed ahead, its windows softly illuminated by the interior lights.

Eva, awake already and restrained by the power-dampening cuffs, was guided through the front entrance. Her eyes were downcast, her steps slow and hesitant. She hasn’t talked much on their way back and no one was really in a talkative mood either. The only interaction Eva had was with Logan’s constant stare. 

The team moved with purpose but with an underlying tension. Logan walked alongside her, his jaw set and his eyes wary. 

As they reached the foyer, Charles Xavier awaited them in his wheelchair, his expression a mix of concern and resolve. He had been up all night, preparing for this moment. He wheeled forward to meet them, his gaze settling on Eva with a gentle, reassuring look.

“Welcome back,” Charles said softly, his voice warm. “I’m glad to see you’re all safe.” 

Logan, his eyes still fixed on Eva, grunted. “We got her here, but I’m telling you, this one’s a liability. Her powers are way out of control.” 

Charles nodded, his eyes never leaving Eva. “I understand your concerns, Logan. Eva, we’ll be taking you to the hospital wing for now. It’s important that we manage your powers and ensure everyone’s safety while we figure things out.”

Eva met Charles’s gaze briefly, her fear evident, but his kind eyes offered a small measure of comfort. She followed him and the team down the hall, her movements slow and cautious. 

As they approached the hospital wing, Charles turned to Logan, his expression thoughtful. “Logan, I know you’re worried. Her abilities are indeed formidable, and it’s natural to be concerned.” 

Logan’s brows furrowed, his frustration palpable. “Formidable? The girl almost killed me. She’s a risk, Charles. We don’t know what she’s capable of if she loses control again.” 

Charles placed a calming hand on Logan’s arm. “I understand. But she’s also a person who’s been through unimaginable suffering. We need to balance our caution with compassion. She’s scared and alone, and that’s why we need to approach this with care.” 

Logan shrugged off Charles’s hand, his gaze still dark. “Careful or not, we’re walking a tightrope here. One slip and we could all be in trouble.” 

Charles’s tone was firm yet soothing. “Yes, we are walking a tightrope. But remember, we have the means to help her, and we must give her a chance to prove that she can find control. We’ve faced dangers before, and we’ve come through. We will handle this situation with the same resolve.” 

Logan sighed heavily, his eyes narrowing. “Just keep her in check. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” 

“I will,” Charles said softly. “And we’ll do everything we can to ensure that doesn’t happen. But we also need to give Eva a chance to find her place here, just as we all had our own moments of struggle.” 

Logan’s gaze flickered to Eva, who was now being gently guided into the hospital wing by the staff. He didn’t say anything more, but the hardness in his eyes softened slightly.

Charles watched Eva as she was led to a bed, his concern evident. He turned back to Logan, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “Thank you for your vigilance, Logan. It’s what makes you a valuable member of this team. And it’s what will help us find the best path forward for Eva.” 

Logan nodded curtly, his expression still tense. “Yeah, well, let’s hope you’re right.” 

Charles watched him leave with a thoughtful look. He knew that Logan’s fears were not unfounded, but he also believed in the power of empathy and understanding. For now, his focus was on Eva, ensuring that she felt safe and supported as she began this new chapter in her life. 

As the door to the hospital wing closed behind him, Charles took a deep breath, preparing to meet the challenges ahead with the same determination and compassion he hoped to instill in everyone around him.

***

Logan stood at the threshold of the med bay, his silhouette casting a long shadow on the floor. The hum of machines monitoring Eva’s vitals filled the quiet, sterile air. She lay in one of the beds, hooked up to a dozen wires, her frail body looking even smaller against the white sheets. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, her face pale and sunken, with dark circles under her eyes. She looked fragile—broken, even—but Logan knew better than to trust appearances.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles white, his nails biting into his palms. Anger simmered just beneath the surface, bubbling up through his veins like molten steel, but it wasn’t the familiar kind of anger. It wasn’t the kind that came from a fight or from someone he hated. It was… different, raw and twisted, like a splinter lodged deep in his gut that he couldn’t pull out. 

Logan took a step forward, his boots heavy against the cold floor. His eyes never left the girl, even though something inside him told him to turn away, to leave. But he couldn’t. He had to face it—face her. 

“Why the hell am I still here?” he muttered under his breath, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth. He didn’t know why, but something kept pulling him back. Maybe it was that look in her eyes when she’d blasted him across the lab, that raw fear and regret that hit him like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t meant to hurt him—not really. But that didn’t change what she could do. 

*She’s dangerous,* Logan thought, his teeth grinding together. *Too dangerous.* 

The med bay door slid open with a soft hiss behind him, and Jean stepped in quietly. She glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, then back to Eva. 

“She’s stabilized.” Jean said softly, her voice careful, as if she knew how close Logan was to snapping. “Her body’s been through a lot, but she’ll recover. Physically, at least.”

“Physically, huh?” Logan’s voice was low, a harsh rasp that betrayed the turmoil inside him. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Jean sighed, stepping closer to him, her gaze flicking between him and the girl. “I know you’re angry, Logan.”

“Angry?!” He barked out a bitter laugh. “Hell, Jean, I’m beyond that.” His eyes locked onto Eva, who lay still and silent, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him. “She almost tore me apart. If I didn’t have my healin’, I’d be lyin’ in pieces right now. And it ain’t just me. She’s got enough power in her to wipe out this whole school if she loses it again.” 

Jean’s voice softened, but there was a firmness underneath it. “She didn’t mean to hurt you, Logan. She was scared. She still is.”

“I don’t care what she meant to do,” Logan growled, taking a step closer to Eva’s bed, his fists clenched. “What matters is what she can do. She’s outta control, Jean. And you’re tellin’ me you’re okay with keepin’ her here? Around the kids? You really want to risk that?” 

Jean didn’t respond right away, her eyes lingering on Eva’s small, fragile form. “She’s still young, Logan. A young girl who’s been tortured, experimented on. She didn’t ask for any of this.” 

“And what happens when she can’t keep it together?” Logan shot back, his voice harsh, laced with anger. “What happens when she lashes out again? You think the kids are safe with her around?” 

Jean’s silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, she turned to face him fully, her voice gentle but firm. “Logan, I know you’re worried. We all are. But we can’t just give up on her.” 

Logan’s face twisted, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with an intensity that made even Jean flinch slightly. “Maybe we should,” he muttered, his voice low, dangerous. 

The words felt like poison on his tongue, but part of him believed them. He didn’t want to hate her—hell, he didn’t even know why he did—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that keeping her here was a mistake. A big one. It wasn’t just about what she’d done to him in that lab, or even what she was capable of. It was the feeling that clung to his skin like sweat whenever he looked at her—the feeling that she was a walking disaster waiting to happen. 

“Look, I get it, Jean,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, though still rough. “She’s a victim. But you can’t tell me that doesn’t make her more dangerous, not less. All that power, all that hurt… It’s a bad mix. She’s too damn powerful, and she’s got no control over it.” 

Jean opened her mouth to respond, but Logan cut her off. “You don’t get it,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “I can feel it. She’s unstable. You saw what she did without even tryin’. That’s the problem, Jean. She ain’t tryin’, and she still almost killed me. You really think it’ll be any different next time?” 

Jean’s eyes softened, but Logan could see the conflict in them. “She’s not beyond help. Charles thinks—” 

“Charles is a damn optimist,” Logan spat, shaking his head. “And maybe he’s wrong this time.” 

The room fell silent after that, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Jean didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree either. She just stood there, her hands folded in front of her, looking at Logan like she was waiting for something—waiting for him to let go of the anger that twisted his face into something hard and unrecognizable. 

But he couldn’t. 

Logan’s eyes drifted back to Eva, lying there so still, so helpless. His gut twisted again, that strange mix of guilt and fury gnawing at him. He hated her. He hated the situation. And he hated himself for feeling this way. But every time he tried to shake it, tried to tell himself she was just another lost kid who needed help, all he could see was the blast of power that had sent him flying, the fear and confusion in her eyes as she lost control. 

*Too dangerous,* he thought again, clenching his fists. 

His mind raced. He couldn’t figure out why his anger was so fierce, why his hatred for this girl seemed so personal. Maybe it was because he’d been there—maybe not the same way, but close enough. Maybe it was because her powers were so raw, so unchecked, like his claws before he learned how to control them. Or maybe it was because he saw a reflection of himself in her—what he could have been, what he was still afraid he could become. 

Whatever the reason, it didn’t change how he felt. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t hurt someone again, someone who wasn’t as tough to bounce back as he was. 

“She’s too powerful,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jean. “She doesn’t belong here.” 

Jean took a step closer, her hand resting gently on his arm. “She’s scared, Logan. Just like you were once.” 

He jerked his arm away, glaring at her. “Don’t. Don’t make this about me. This is about her. She’s dangerous, and you know it.” 

Jean didn’t flinch, though her voice softened. “And so were you, Logan. But we didn’t give up on you. And I won’t give up on her.” 

Logan let out a rough sigh, turning away from her, his eyes fixed on the door now. He couldn’t stand being in that room any longer. Not with her lying there, not with all the anger boiling up inside him. His heart felt too heavy, weighed down by everything he didn’t want to feel. 

“I’m tellin’ you, Jean,” he muttered as he moved toward the door, his voice hard again, “you’re makin’ a mistake. And when it all goes wrong, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

With that, he stormed out of the med bay, the door hissing shut behind him. But the knot of anger and guilt stayed with him, gnawing at his insides, refusing to let him go.

 ***

Eva's eyelids fluttered open to the soft hum of medical machinery and the muted light of early morning filtering through the blinds. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor and the occasional shuffle of footsteps outside. She blinked groggily, her mind struggling to piece together the events of the previous day.

The room was sterile and clinical, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh lab she’d known. Her wrists felt heavy, the power-dampening cuffs still securely fastened. As she shifted slightly, the soft rustle of the hospital bed linens reminded her of her vulnerable state. She winced, feeling the dull ache of yesterday’s emotional and physical turmoil.

She glanced around, trying to take in her surroundings. The walls were painted a soothing blue, and a small window offered a view of the gardens outside. It was a serene setting, but Eva felt anything but calm. The memories of her violent outburst and the fear in Logan's eyes replayed in her mind like a relentless loop.

Her breath quickened, and the panic spread. She tugged at the restraints, jerking her arms violently as she tried to free herself, but it was useless. The cuffs held firm, and with each tug, the fear inside her grew. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered what had almost happened—what she’d nearly done. 

"I could’ve killed them. I almost killed them." 

Her stomach twisted, and bile rose in her throat. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She never wanted to hurt anyone, but it didn’t matter anymore. She was too dangerous, too unstable, and the more they tried to help her, the more they were at risk. Everyone was in danger because of her. 

Her thoughts spiraled, faster and faster, and for a brief moment, she considered ripping her own wrists raw against the restraints, breaking free just to get as far away as possible. She couldn’t stay here. She didn’t belong here. She shouldn’t even be alive. 

Her body shook as the realization hit her. She didn’t want to live like this anymore. Every breath felt like a burden, every second a threat to those around her. 

"Why didn’t they just let me die?" 

Before she could spiral further, the door to the hospital wing hissed open, and heavy footsteps echoed through the sterile room. She stiffened, her eyes darting toward the figure who entered. 

It was him. Logan. 

He crossed the room with that familiar roughness, his boots heavy on the tile floor. His face was hard, expression unreadable, but the tension in his jaw and the simmering anger in his eyes told her all she needed to know. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t trust her. And she couldn’t blame him. 

Logan stopped at the foot of her bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at her. "You awake, then?" His voice was gruff, biting, as if the mere sight of her irritated him. 

Eva didn’t respond at first, her eyes still wide with fear. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, the weight of the handcuffs pressing into her skin. Her throat tightened, but she managed to whisper, “Why… why am I still here?” 

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his lip curling slightly. "Good question. I’ve been askin’ myself the same thing." 

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill over, but she swallowed them down. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” 

Logan’s eyes flashed, and he took a step closer. “That’s the problem, kid. You didn’t mean to, but you did. Almost tore me apart, nearly killed everyone in that damn lab. Hell, if you’d gone all the way, this whole place could’ve been rubble by now.” His voice was low, dangerous, each word dripping with the frustration he was barely holding back.  

Eva’s chest tightened, guilt flooding her system. “I don’t know how to control it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop it." 

Logan’s gaze didn’t soften. If anything, his eyes grew colder, harder. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You can’t control it. So why the hell should we trust you? Why should we risk the kids, the people in this school, just because you’re scared?” 

Tears finally spilled over, and Eva shook her head, feeling the weight of his words crush her. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be alive!” Her voice was desperate, her entire body trembling. “You’re right, okay? I’m a danger to everyone, and I know it. You should’ve let me die.” 

Logan’s face twitched, just for a second, and something flashed in his eyes—something almost like regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same hard, cold mask. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Maybe we should’ve.” 

His words hit her like a slap, and Eva turned her head away, unable to look at him anymore. Her chest heaved with sobs, the weight of everything pressing down on her until she couldn’t breathe. 

Just then, the door to the med bay slid open again, and Charles Xavier entered, his wheelchair moving silently across the floor. The tension in the room shifted, and Logan stepped back slightly, though his posture remained rigid.

Charles’s voice was soft, calming, as he approached the bed. “Eva,” he said gently, his eyes kind as he looked at her. “You’re safe now.” 

“Safe?” Eva’s voice was bitter, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. “How can you say that? I almost killed him.” She nodded toward Logan. “I could’ve killed all of you. I’m not safe. Not for you, not for anyone.” 

Charles’s expression remained calm, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes. “We understand that you’ve been through unimaginable pain. But you’re not beyond help, Eva. We can work with you, teach you how to control your powers. You don’t have to go through this alone.” 

But Eva shook her head violently, panic rising in her throat. “You don’t understand. They’re going to come for me. The people who did this to me, they’ll come back. And if I’m here, they’ll destroy everything in their way. You’ll all be in danger because of me. I—” Her voice broke, and she lowered her head, trembling. “Please… please just kill me. End it. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.” 

Logan’s jaw clenched at her words, his anger bubbling up again. He wanted to snap at her, to tell her how selfish it was to think death was the answer, how ridiculous she sounded. But instead, he stood there, watching her break down, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of something else. Pity, maybe. Regret. He hated it, but it was there. Deep down.

For a moment, he saw himself in her—the same lost, broken thing, unsure of his place in the world. And it twisted something inside him.

Charles leaned forward, his tone soft but firm. “We don’t give up on anyone, Eva. You have a home here, if you choose to stay. We will help you, as long as you let us.” 

Eva shook her head again, tears streaming down her face. “I’m too dangerous. You’re making a mistake.” 

Logan exhaled sharply, stepping forward. “Maybe we are,” he growled, his voice cutting through the air. “But that’s not your call to make. You wanna give up? Fine. But Charles is right—we don’t give up on people here. So you’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not.”

His words hung in the air, and Eva stared at him through tear-filled eyes. She didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved, but all she felt was the crushing weight of guilt and fear. She wanted to believe they could help her, but deep down, she wasn’t sure anyone could.

And that terrified her most of all. 

Eva’s tears soaked into the hospital pillow, and for a moment, the room was thick with silence. She couldn’t shake the terror clawing at her chest. Charles’s kind words barely registered through the haze of guilt and fear. Every instinct screamed to get away, to run before she hurt someone again. But the restraints around her wrists, humming with the suppression of her powers, kept her pinned to the bed, a prisoner to her own body.

Logan stood by the door, arms crossed, his expression dark. He had always been a difficult person to read, but right now, his anger was crystal clear. He didn’t want her here. He’d made that painfully obvious. Part of her agreed with him. She was too dangerous. Even if Charles promised help, what could they really do? 

She had almost killed them. All of them. Logan, especially, and he wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon.

Logan broke the silence first, his voice sharp and cutting. "You think just 'cause we say we’ll help, that’s some kinda ticket outta responsibility? That you can just sit back and let us fix you? You’ve gotta want it. And I don’t think you do, kid."

Eva flinched at his words, her face contorting in pain. His anger wasn’t just justified—it was expected—but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. She turned her head away, unable to look at him.

"I don’t want anything," she whispered. "I just want to disappear."

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his frustration clearly boiling over. He took a step closer to the bed, his voice rising. "You think you’re the only one who’s been through hell? You think you’re special ’cause they did some experiments on you? Join the damn club." He jabbed his thumb at his own chest, his scowl deepening. "I’ve been there. I’ve done all that, and guess what? I didn’t get a choice. So don’t you stand there askin’ us to give up on you just ‘cause you’re scared."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and Eva’s tears flowed harder. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had been through hell, yes, but she didn’t have his strength. She couldn’t fight it the way he had. Her powers were out of control, and she was too weak, too broken to even try.

“I can’t control it,” she choked, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop it. You don’t understand. They built me to be a weapon. I’m a ticking time bomb, and sooner or later, I’ll explode again.”

Logan clenched his fists, his knuckles white as the words hit him. He hated how familiar it all sounded, hated how much of his own past he could hear in her voice. But he couldn’t let that soften him, not when the stakes were this high. Not when she could destroy everything they’d built here, everything they protected.

 “I get it, alright?” Logan growled. “You’re scared, and yeah, maybe you’ve been turned into a weapon, but that doesn’t mean you get to give up. You’re here now, and if you’re gonna stay, you better start fightin’ for somethin’ other than your damn self-pity.”

Eva trembled, her wrists pulling at the restraints as if she could somehow claw her way out of this nightmare. “I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be anywhere. I should’ve died in that lab. It would’ve been better for everyone.”

Logan’s face tightened, a growl building in his throat. His anger, which had been simmering on the surface, was threatening to break loose. But before he could unleash another biting remark, Charles raised a hand, his voice calm but firm.

"Logan," Charles said gently, his gaze shifting from the girl to the man, “perhaps we should ease up.” 

Logan shot Charles a sharp look, but there was something in the Professor’s eyes that made him pause, though the tension in his body remained. He backed off a step, arms still crossed, but the scowl stayed firmly in place. His anger wasn’t gone—it was just barely contained. 

Charles turned his attention back to Eva, his voice soft and steady, the same calm she’d heard from him before. But this time, it pierced through her haze of fear just a little. 

"Eva," he began, "I understand why you’re afraid. I can’t pretend to know the extent of your pain, but I do know this: you are not alone. You are not the first person to feel like their powers are too much to bear, and you won’t be the last. This place, this school, is for people just like you." 

Eva shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “You don’t get it. It’s not just me. The people who did this—they’ll come back for me. They’ll come for all of you. You’ll be in danger because of me.”

Charles’s expression didn’t waver. “We’ve faced threats before, Eva. But we believe in protecting those who cannot protect themselves. No one here will abandon you, no matter how great the risk.” 

“Maybe you should,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “Maybe it’d be better if you did.” 

Logan scoffed from the corner, his patience thinning. "Maybe she’s got a point. You’re gambling a lot on someone who’s not even sure she wants to be saved, Charles. She could bring this whole place down." 

Eva flinched again at his words, her heart aching with the weight of them. He was right. What was the point of trying to help her if she didn’t even know if she could be helped?

But Charles, as always, remained resolute. 

“I know the risks,” Charles said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. “But I also know that we must give her a chance. Eva, if you stay here, we will do everything in our power to help you gain control. You can have a life, a real life, outside of the torment they put you through.” 

Eva swallowed hard, her chest tight. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to, but the fear was too overwhelming. What if she couldn’t control it? What if Logan was right, and she was just too dangerous to be here? 

She shook her head, the tears never stopping. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s even possible.” 

Charles leaned closer, his eyes filled with the kind of kindness she hadn’t seen in a long time. “We will help you find out. But first, you must give yourself that chance.” 

Eva’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the Professor, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was offering her a lifeline, but could she trust herself to take it? 

Her eyes drifted to Logan, still standing with his arms crossed, his face hard. He looked at her like she was a threat, like she didn’t belong here. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe he was right.

But part of her wanted to fight. Just a small part, buried beneath all the pain and fear, but it was there, flickering weakly.

“I don’t… I don’t know how,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

Charles smiled gently. “You start by staying. By trusting us.” 

Logan scoffed again but said nothing, though his eyes bore into her, still filled with distrust. But for a fleeting second, something flickered in his gaze. Maybe it was pity, or maybe just the faintest trace of understanding. Either way, it didn’t last long, quickly replaced by the cold mask of doubt. 

Eva closed her eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn’t know if she could trust them—or herself. But for the first time in a long time, she had a choice. She could choose to run. Or she could choose to stay and try. 

It was the scariest choice she’d ever faced.

[nomniki]

stuck in your web ━━ jake sim ⟡ spiderman au

★ wc 1.3k warnings none note @soobnny u inspired me to write this while i was on the plane i’m actually insane my brain is rotting w spidey bf jake (proofread but idk if there r any mistakes rip sry pookies)

Not even your blankets could stave off the whisper of cold wind that followed Jake in through the window, a chill that was just as quickly chased away by his embrace. He slid in beneath your comforter, a drawn out sigh leaving his lips, one of which you learned as you turned around, was split and crusted with blood. Your hand found his cheek in the darkness, the other reaching out blindly for the light switch.

“No, don’t,” he grumbled halfheartedly, pressing his forehead between your shoulder blades in a lazy attempt to hide the lasting damage of his latest fight.

Your fingers closed the switch and you turned your bedside lamp on despite his protests, propping yourself up on your elbow to better survey his injuries. Jake had made a terrible habit of assuming that slipping into your bed and just having you in his arms would solve all his problems, emotional and physical. As much as you despised the fact, that wasn’t true.

“Let me clean you up?”

You asked softly, brushing his bangs away from his face lazily, wincing as you felt his ordinarily soft hair crusted with something— blood, or dirt, you weren’t sure. In times like this, it felt like there wasn’t much you could offer Jake, and an inescapable feeling of helplessness swelled and formed a lump in your throat. He’d reassured you time and time again that your company was enough, but you figured the least you could do was clean him up to the best of your ability.

“No, let’s just go to sleep, I’ll do it tomorrow,” Jake mumbled, his eyebrows furrowed cutely and his words muffled by the soft cotton of your pillow.

You rolled your eyes, and gathered the motivation to slip out of bed— Jake let you go without any coherent protest, and you padded into the bathroom. The routine you’d adopted was methodical and you had to admit there was something therapeutic about it— saline solution, a glass of warm water, a flannel and the Hello Kitty bandaids Jake claimed to hate but never stopped you from putting on the lesser of his injuries. His arms wound around your waist as you perched on the edge of the bed, pulling you close enough that he could rest his cheek against your thigh.

“I’ll sleep easy knowing I’ve helped you, even a little,” you hummed quietly, running your hand through his hair, trying not to tug when your fingers caught on whatever it was that had gotten stuck, presumably during his fight.

“You’re helping me by being a good cushion,” he huffed, his breath fanning warmly across your bare skin and it was almost criminal how endearing he could be without trying.

“Jake.”

He sighed dramatically, shuffling to sit up in front of you, still in his spider suit— the webbed material had become oddly familiar under your fingers and it was with practiced ease that you peeled the suit away from his skin. Your heart was caught in your throat as you revealed planes of tan skin, terrified you’d come across an injury that couldn’t be fixed with pink—patterned plasters and a gentle kiss. Jake reached for your hands, grabbing your wrist and bringing your trembling hands to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m fine, really— just a couple scratches.”

His reassurances did wonders to comfort you, and you swallowed down the anxiety in your throat, nodding and offering him a small, sleepy sort of smile. You traced the ridges of his collarbones, your fingers dancing over divots and muscles that contracted instinctively under your gentle touch. Jake slumped, relaxing into your assessment of his injuries, and it gave you a rush like no other knowing you were the only person he trusted with this.

“Keroppi or My Melody?”

You asked, a laugh dancing on your lips in the form of an amused smile as you held up his options— a square plaster with Keroppi depicted on the beach, or My Melody sat with a character you didn’t know the name of.

“Keroppi,” Jake murmured after a moment of contemplation, and you averted your attention from his pretty face to focus on peeling the paper backing off the plaster.

There was a cluster of small scratches along his ribs, raw and aggravated, and you frowned— Jake’s thumb reached up to push gently at your frown, and you bit the tip of his thumb playfully. He laughed, and the sound of it was the only plaster needed to soothe your worried heart.

“I can barely even feel ‘em, you don’t need to look so worried.”

“‘s my job to be worried about you, Jake.”

Jake let out a quiet huff, his bottom lip jutting out in a stupidly kissable pout, “it’s not your job, but it’s one of the many reasons why I love you.”

You were grateful to be sat with your back to the lamp, knowing the blush on your cheeks wouldn’t be illuminated.

“I love you too.”

“I know.”

You went through the motions of cleaning the rest of his injuries— thankfully, none of them were more than shallow scratches, and some warm water and a cloth had them mostly sorted. His torso was an array of carefully arranged Hello Kitty plasters, at least twelve pastel coloured, cartoon faces staring up at you with unseeing eyes. The only injury you hadn’t dealt with was his split lip, and Jake frowned when he realised you’d insist on cleaning that too.

“Ynnie, can’t you just kiss that one better?”

He pleaded, looking up at you through his lashes with the puppy—dog eyes that ordinarily would entice you into folding to his whims. You shook your head, placing your palms against his cheeks and squishing gently, forcing his lips into a pout. You leaned forward and kissed him softly, allowing the tension to bleed out of your rigid shoulders once you’d seen for yourself that he was truly okay.

“I can’t kiss it better, but I can kiss you anyway,” you murmured against his lips, pressing another chaste kiss against them before you pulled away, the warm, damp cloth in hand.

You cleaned the small cut as carefully as possibly, and if a minute or so of that time had been spent admiring the slope of his cupids bow or the criminally enticing pink of his lips, that was between you and God.

“Your pyjamas are in the wardrobe,” you prompted him— they were technically yours, but they had become a staple of Jake’s post—fight routine.

He rolled out of your bed still pouting, nearly taking your duvet with him before you tugged it back, hiding a giggle behind your arm. Jake threw his spider suit into the depths of your closet with the internal promise to grab it when he woke up, and suited up instead in fluffy Cookie Monster pyjama bottoms and a shirt he was sure had once been his. When Jake crawled back into your bed, he flopped onto your chest with no regard for your need to breathe.

“If college doesn’t work out, I don’t see why you couldn’t pursue a career as a mattress,” he mumbled, situating his cheek against your chest and ensuring he could feel the steady pound of your heart against his ear, “actually, that’s a terrible idea— I think if you ever let anyone else lay on you like this, I think I’d throw up.”

You let out a huff of laughter, your hands tangling in his hair like they belonged there, your eyes crinkled in amusement. Jake’s weight was familiar, and you relaxed under him, fumbling blindly for the duvet to pull it over both your bodies.

“Not a career path ‘m considering, so you have nothing to worry about,” you whispered against the top of his head, your statement punctuated by an unfairly soft kiss. Jake propped his chin up on your sternum, looking up at you expectantly.

“Goodnight kiss?”

You rolled your eyes in feigned exasperation, and leaned forward enough that your lips met in a sweet kiss, though you were mindful of the split that would take at least a few hours to scab over.

“You’re such a baby.”

“Your baby.”

“Yeah, mine.”

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 8

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: The next few days pass by in a rush, but you've never been happier. That is until Scott reappears and decides to restart old drama. Word Count: 3264 TW: Kissing, Groping, Confrontation, Family Drama, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever and @green-socks for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Ending Edited to Be Appropriate for SFW Blog. Original Can Be Found on My 18+ NSFW Blog @a-reader-and-a-writer But Please Only Interact If Under 18

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

The next five days passed in a blur, yet they were some of the best of your life. Every morning, Tyler met you at your door with a smile and a kiss. Then you’d walk downstairs together and join the other Wranglers for breakfast. Afterward, you packed up and rode with Tyler and Boone as you chased after a few tornados. 

While you no longer had that initial anxiety like you did on your first chase, you never got tired of the breathtaking feeling as the storm hit the front of the truck and you passed through the heart of the funnel. That rush of adrenaline surging through you never lessened, and you understood why the Wranglers continued to do this after so long. 

After each chase, Boone and Lily reviewed the footage he captured, Dani inspected Tyler’s truck for any damage, and Dexter began checking for any more potential storms forming in the area. Meanwhile, you and Tyler would sneak off for some time alone together. Sometimes it would be in the bed of his truck, sometimes in the middle of an empty field, and, one time, even on the top of Dani and Dexter’s van. 

Most of the time, you kept things fairly PG—just some making out, snuggling against his chest while he held you, or him laying his head in your lap while you played with his hair. But occasionally, things would drift into a little more mature nature. You still had only known Tyler for less than a week and didn’t want to move too quickly, but sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. A few times after an exceptionally exhilarating storm or when Tyler was being extra sweet, you found yourself straddling his lap, grinding against him as his hand cupped your breasts. 

These moments often ended with the two of you panting heavily next to each other while you gave Tyler a few minutes to calm down so he could walk back to the rest of the crew. Though you knew you weren’t fooling anyone about what you were getting up to, no one said anything. However, you did catch Boone, Dani, and Lily exchanging a few pointed glances and snickering. If Tyler noticed, he didn’t let on. He just wrapped his arm across your shoulders and walked towards his truck with a big ol’ grin on his face.

Then, later once everyone had settled into their new accommodations for the night, Tyler would walk you to your room and say good night. Every time it became harder and harder to watch him walk away. You wanted him so badly and not just on a physical level. Sure, he was the most attractive man you’d ever kissed, but the more you learned about him—the more you got to know his personality, humor, and intelligence— the more you needed him to fuck your brains out. 

But that was the old you talking. The new you was trying to restrain yourself and build a solid foundation before taking this steer for a ride, but damn if it wasn’t frustrating. To make matters worse, you had planned to spend this trip with your brother, potentially sharing a room, so you hadn’t packed anything that would help you work out those frustrations. So every night when Tyler left you alone—lightheaded, wet, and needy—all you had was the almost non-existent pressure from the motel shower head and your own hand for any relief. 

As much as you were trying to behave, all it was going to take was one small thing for your cracking resolve to crumble completely.

The Wranglers changed motels almost every night since the storms sometimes took them hours away from where they started their day. However, all the chasers tended to follow the same storm cells so they all ended up in roughly the same location each night. 

Since receiving Javi’s note, you had spotted Scott several times. Sometimes it was at a gas station or a dinner, but most often it was at the motel as everyone settled in for the night or prepared to roll out in the morning. In each instance, you tried your best to stay out of his sight or not draw attention to yourself. At this point, you honestly couldn’t care less about what Scott thought of you or your being here. All of your focus was now on Tyler and the Wranglers. However, you knew Scott was still angry you were hanging around so you figured it was just easier to avoid him than to continue to poke the very grumpy, gum-chewing bear. 

But apparently, he had other plans.

On your ninth day in Oklahoma, Tyler picked you up at your room like always, planting a kiss on your lips and sliding your backpack onto his shoulder as soon as you opened the door. However, it was only when you were both at the bottom of the stairs that you remembered you had left your toothbrush on the sink to dry. He offered to run back and get it for you, but you waved him off, insisting you could go while he loaded everything into the truck. You could see it went against every courteous bone in his body, but he reluctantly agreed though you could feel his eyes on you until you disappeared at the top of the stairs. 

Luckily, you hadn’t returned your key to the drop box yet so you could enter the room, grab your toothbrush (which was sitting smack in the middle of the counter clear a day), and hurry back to the stairs all in less than thirty seconds. 

Crossing the parking lot, you spotted Tyler storing your backpack in the back of the truck and were about to start jogging over when a voice from behind you said, “So, it’s been over a week. When are you going to call off this little charade of yours?”

Sighing, you stopped and turned to face your brother. “It’s not a charade. I like the Wranglers and I’m having fun. I’m sorry if you don’t like that, but I’ve tried to stay out of your way. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

Standing with his hands on his hips and his sunglasses tucked into his button-down’s front pocket, he snapped. “I want you to go home.”

“Scotty—”

“And stop calling me that!” Scott’s nostrils flared as his eyes burned beneath the bill of his hat. “I’m not ten anymore and this is still my place of work even if you treat it like a theme park. Some of us are trying to do a job while you play daredevil and make out with your latest boy toy.”

You knew he was pushing for a fight, but you physically bit your tongue to not take the bait. Ignoring his last outburst, you answered his previous question in a calm voice. “I’ll go home in a few days like I planned. Until then…Scott…” You dipped your head and resumed your walk. 

Looking ahead, you noticed Tyler had stopped packing and was leaning against the side of the truck, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes following your every step. You could tell by his rigid posture and stony expression that he heard what you and Scott said. You were about to give him a small wave to let him know everything was alright, but, before you could, Scott called after you.

“Hey! What is it that you want? An apology?” he shouted, his face turning slightly red. “You want me to say I’m sorry for getting angry that you showed up unannounced to where I work with the hope of just inserting yourself into the middle of a dangerous and highly complex situation? You want me to say I’ve learned my lesson after watching you throw yourself at Owens every chance you get? Hmm? That watching him jam his tongue down my little sister’s throat while broadcasting it to the entire fucking world showed me how wrong I was? Would that make you happy?”

Turning back around, you said, “I don’t want you to do anything unless you want to and you mean it. But, you know what—” you threw your arms into the air “—you were right.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed slightly as he examined you, searching for what kind of trick you were trying to pull now. “I was?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “I shouldn’t have just showed up without asking first but I knew if I had, you’d have told me no. Well, actually, you’d have told me ‘fuck no’. So I figured it would be better to ask for forgiveness than permission and I just showed up. I did fall back on that self-centered, ‘everything works out for me’ person I once was and I’m sorry. It was exactly that behavior I came here to show you I had outgrown.”

Taking a few steps closer to your brother, you added, “But, Scott, let's be real. You wouldn’t have actually answered my phone calls or texts if I had tried to ask. We barely ever talk and the only times I see you are at Christmas, Thanksgiving, and, occasionally, someone’s birthday. But I wanted to change that. I wanted to try to rebuild this relationship before it was too late. Before we drift so far apart that there’s no finding a way back. I still want my big brother in my life, but now I’m afraid all I did was push you even further away.”

You waited for him to say something, to assure you he still wanted that too or that you had screwed things up past the point of redemption. But when he just stared at the ground with his jaw clenched, you nodded, wiping a tear from your cheek. “So, I promise, I’m done playing games or trying to force a relationship between us. I’ll stay out of your way as much as possible while I’m here but I’m not ready to leave yet. I know that may not be fair to you and I’m sorry. I’ll see about staying at a different motel than Storm PAR from now on—one less place for you to have to see me.” You turned to leave, but paused to add, “The next time I’ll contact you is right before I leave. That way you’ll know when I’ll be out of your hair. Until then, you have my number if you change your mind and want to talk.” Wiping a few more tears off your face as you walked away.

It hurt, being so vulnerable and laying out how you felt only to get absolutely no response in return. You hadn’t expected Scott to wrap you in a tight hug and promise things would be sunshine and rainbows from here on out, but you had hoped he would at least acknowledge your feelings in some way. But then again, this was Scott you were talking about. You couldn’t remember the last time he had ever given you a hug or compliment that he wasn’t forced into giving you. Maybe it was time to just let him go and stop trying to force something that was never going to happen. Maybe both of you would be happier in the long run.

As you neared, Tyler pushed off the side of the truck and asked, “Everything okay or do I need to step in?”

“Nah, we’re good. But thank you for offering.” You wrapped your arms around Tyler’s waist, leaning your head on his shoulder as he returned the embrace. Smiling into his chest, you said, “And thank you for not just coming over and jumping in when you saw things starting to get heated. Most guys I know would have barged over the minute they saw us and it would have turned into a huge fight. Instead, I was able to say some things that needed to be said.”

“I knew you could handle yourself.” He squeezed you tighter. Then he muttered, “Besides, I’m not most guys.”

“I’ve noticed,” you grinned as you recalled a similar conversation the two of you had the first morning he had picked you up at your room. “And I’m so grateful for that.” 

He kissed the top of your head then released you. “So, we ready to go?”

You nodded and he opened the passenger door to his truck. As he helped you in, you looked up to see Scott watching you. Since you had last seen him, he had slipped his sunglasses on so you had trouble reading his expression. You gave him a nod with a small smile but he just turned and disappeared behind Scarecrow. You felt Tyler squeeze your hand and knew he noticed the exchange as well. Taking a deep breath, you finished climbing in and settled into your seat. But as Tyler drove his truck from the parking lot, you couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in your gut that that might have been the last time you saw your brother for a long time.

Looking out the window, you stared at the empty fields whooshing past. Everything here was so open and untouched. Normally, you viewed it as a nice change from the crowded, bustling city you came from, but today, it just made you feel so small and alone. 

As if sensing what you were feeling, Tyler reached over and took your hand as he drove. You gave it a quick squeeze of acknowledgment but your eyes remained gazing out the window. Boone had opted to ride with Lily until you reached a potential storm, so the only sound that filled the cab was the soft droning of country music turned down so low you couldn’t make out any of the lyrics. It was a far cry from the joyous laughter and deep conversations the two of you usually shared on these rides, but with your talk with Scott running through your head, you couldn’t focus on much else.

After about twenty minutes, Tyler finally broke the silence. “Hey, something you said to Scott got me thinking…”

“Hmm?” You ran your finger over a smudge of dust on the passenger’s window. “About what?”

“Why don’t you stay?”

Snapping out of your ruminations, your head whipped around to look at Tyler. “W-what?”

“I mean, you’re only supposed to be here for another five days, right?” He shrugged, “But what if you stayed longer?”

You blinked, suddenly realizing you and Tyler had never talked about your upcoming departure or what that would mean for the two of you. “I-I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. Do…do you want me to stay?”

Tyler chuckled, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to. I realize eventually this’ll have to come to an end or something’ll have to change, but I’d like to spend as much time with you as I can before that happens.”

“Oh.” You felt the heat rushing to your face and a smile creeping across your lips. “In that case, I mean, I have classes starting soon that I’d have to be back for. But, yeah, since you want me to, I think I could manage a week or so longer than I originally planned. I’ll just have to call and move my flight.”

“I’d really like that,” Tyler said with a grin. “And let me know what it costs to change it. I’ll take care of it.”

Tears filled your eyes. You had the money, it was not an issue. But Tyler’s offer just solidified in your mind how much he actually wanted you to stay. He wasn’t just suggesting it to cheer you up after talking to Scott—he meant it. 

With a slight tremble in your voice, you said, “Ty, I—”

“Hope I’m not interrupting you lovebirds, but Dex just spotted a potential cell to the east forming fast.”

Dani’s voice cut through the cabin. You knew Tyler’s radio had been switched off so no one heard what you had been talking about, but you still sunk back in your seat. 

Tyler shot you an apologetic look then switched on his radio and responded. “We copy. Let’s pull off up here. Dexter can show us where we’re heading, Lily, we’ll need you to get Cairo ready to fly, and Boone, come join us up here once we park. Sound good?”

“All good, boss,” came the echoed reply. 

Tyler switched the radio back off and glanced at you. “Anything else you wanna say before things get crazy or you wanna pick up this conversation later?”

“We can talk later. Thank you, Tyler.”

He squeezed your hand before turning his focus back to the road as he looked for a place to pull off. You leaned your head against the window and stared back out at the field, the gears already turning in your head. 

You didn’t want to talk. If today had shown you anything, it was that you were ready to show Tyler how you felt. 

No one commented or asked questions when Tyler informed the crew that they would be staying at a motel a little farther away than originally planned. You had been nervous about asking him to go to a different motel than Storm PAR, but apparently, he heard your promise to Scott and remembered without you having to say a word. Taking his hand from where it rested on the center console, you kissed the back of it before resting your cheek against it. Tyler glanced over at you and smiled, acknowledging your silent ‘thank you’.

Usually, Tyler walked you to your room as soon as the vehicles were parked and your bag was unloaded. However, tonight you insisted on staying downstairs to help everyone with their nighttime routines. Tyler seemed a little surprised but was more than happy for your company. He showed you all the checks he, Boone, and Dani ran on the truck each night to ensure everything was still functioning correctly. Lily let you help her charge up Cairo and download all the footage she captured today. And Dexter asked you to prep the food for breakfast in the morning. You never realized how much the Wranglers had to do each night while you sat alone in your motel room. But you promised to help out from now on.

When everything was finally done, Tyler grinned widely at you—his dimples on full display—and grabbed your bag. The two of you didn’t talk as he walked you to your room, but you snuggled close to him, listening to his heart beating beneath your cheek. 

Far too soon, you reached your room. Just like every night, you unlocked the door and Tyler handed you your backpack. However, tonight instead of keeping ahold of the bag, you tossed it inside the room, not bothering to look where it landed. 

Turning back to Tyler, you fluttered your eyelashes and asked, “So, Mr. Owens, care to join me inside?”

Tyler's eyes grew wide as he swallowed, his Adam's apple leaping in his throat. Stepping closer until he towered over you, he whispered, “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

You nodded, just a soft dip of your head. “I think it’s time I invited this cowboy in.” And you stepped back to give him space to enter the room. 

You knew it wasn’t your smoothest pick-up line, but when all you could think about was how much you needed him, you were surprised you could string a coherent sentence together. However, Tyler didn’t seem to mind. He hesitated for a second then stepped over the threshold into your room. 

Part 9 coming 10/7!

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Bait and Switch (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - A series of unfortunate events leads to (Y/n) turning on her favorite clown.

Notes - Based on a request to show reader snapping on Art 🫢 I originally wanted to take a smutty approach, but I didn’t feel that it was realistic to his character and behavior in this scenario so decided not to for this one.

Word Count - 1,926

Warning(s) - Acts of aggression, minor argument/tension, angst

Song Inspiration -

Ice Nine Kills - Ex-Mørtis

The rain started the week. It wasn’t the soft, misty kind (Y/n) usually enjoyed during her peaceful walks through the cemetery, finding time for herself to recoup.

No, it was a downpour that began when she was still a good distance from home. An unrelenting, soaking storm that had her sprinting back, camera now ruined despite her best efforts to shield it. 

When she entered the building, anyone who even glanced at her would steer clear. She stood stiff in front of the door that closed behind her, clothes drenched and dripping wet along with her hair that stuck to her face. Her eyes held a heavy glare, filled with hatred for the universe that defied her. 

As she shuffled into the work area that Art occupied in front of his desk, she made her way over and took the camera from around her neck, nearly slamming it onto the empty stool beside him. 

Art jumped, items dropping from his hands and snapped his head to look over at her. He took in her disheveled appearance and emotionless expression, then suddenly started to hunch over in laughter. He motioned at her during his fit and held a hand over his stomach as she crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look. 

“I don’t suppose you know how to fix a water-damaged camera?”

He then gasped, laughter coming to a halt. He pointed to the soaking camera and her eyebrow twitched in confirmation. Art pouted and solemnly shook his head. 

She rolled her eyes and went on to spend the next few hours trying to salvage what she could, praying the water hadn’t seeped into the lens she so loved, but no amount of drying or tinkering helped. The final death blow came when the shutter jammed with a soft click. Silent, but devastating.

The tone was set for what she now declared a dreadful week. 

(Y/n) woke up the next night to find her latest series submission, Memento Mori, was shredded by protestors through the local newspaper. She had come to expect the harsh criticism, but something about this particular review clawed at her. It was brutal, dismissive, and worst of all, physically destroyed her work.  

Tasteless, is what they called it. As if her entire soul, spilled across her paintings and photos, could be reduced to a single word. (Y/n), who had always been quiet and careful about how she handled criticism, could barely stop her hands from trembling as she lowered the paper with an incredulous chuckle.

It stung in a way it hadn’t in a long time. And that sting stayed with her as her hand came up to press against her forehead in disbelief. 

“I don’t get it. These same people go out and watch people get slaughtered for fun in the movies, dress up all bloody and disfigured for some holiday, yet when I put it on a canvas it’s morbid?” (Y/n) ranted and ripped the newspaper in half, tossing it into a steel bucket and beginning to pace. 

Sensing the rising tension, Art put down his tools and spun on his stool to face her, one leg crossed over the other with his hands folded over his knee as he gave her his full attention. 

She whipped to face him, hand on her hip as she continued. “Am I really that fucking messed up? Am I wrong? Just because I don’t follow their status quo?” 

Art shook his head with a snobbish expression, pointing his nose up, hand shooing at the space beside him. 

“Trust me, I wish I could brush it off, but when someone tears up my work, that’s an entirely different story.” His face twisted into an offended countenance, nearly breaking his neck with how quickly he looked at her. 

He then stood and grabbed the ripped newspaper from the bucket, holding the two pieces together to read the article. He analyzed the photos provided showing security cam footage of the perpetrators, taking in every detail of the individuals involved. 

Art then dropped it back into the bucket, stalking past her to grab his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He turned to look at (Y/n) who simply watched indifferently and nodded his head towards the door for her to follow him. 

As the rest of the week piled on with a series of small mishaps, it seemed as if she was only inching closer to her breaking point. The littlest inconveniences chipped away at her already weaker state of mind given what had happened already. 

Packages arriving late, leaving her without the materials she needed for her next gallery submission. Tripping over a piece of wood laying around in the work area to which she casually flipped off. Her shirt getting caught on a doorknob as she walked past it in an already irritated state of mind. 

(Y/n) tried to push it all aside to maintain her usually calm demeanor, but it all inevitably added to the growing pit of frustration in her chest. She felt it slowly spreading, a storm forming just beneath her skin.

By Friday, her patience was thinner than spider silk.

She painted the canvas on her easel, limited to such mediums as her new camera had yet to be delivered. She felt the metal piece connecting the bristles to the handle wiggle as it loosened over time, teetering on the edge of falling off as she painted in the finer details of her work. 

As per usual, Art sat at his desk beside her, tinkering away. He then paused with a thoughtful expression, tapping the screwdriver in his hand against a nearby empty jar. 

(Y/n) sighed, trying to keep calm as she thought the sound wouldn’t last too long and he would go back to working. When it didn’t, she took a deep breath to compose herself. 

“Please stop.” She asked politely, but he caught her irritated undertone and his eyes glimmered. 

He held up the hand that was tapping in an apology, nodding before looking back at what was in front of him. As (Y/n) continued to paint through the interaction, he grinned mischievously. 

The tapping resumed and (Y/n) poked her tongue at the inside of her cheek, dropping her arm that was painting and tapped her foot. She closed her eyes to calm herself once she felt the familiar sense of anger begin to bubble, taking another deep breath. “Art, stop.” She asked a second time, her voice now firm. 

He pouted and put his hands in his lap, looking down at it in disappointment. She paused for a moment, waiting for him to start back up. When she deemed it clear, she lifted her arm again and resumed painting. 

For the third time, the tapping resumed, this time in a rhythm. Her heart began to race as the frustration continued to build, nearly spilling over. It felt as if the sound was only getting louder, the high-pitched sound of the glass nearly painful. 

Just as she thought it couldn’t get any worse, the tip of the brush finally fell off and paint smeared onto the canvas as it fell. 

Without hesitation, she dropped the handle and snatched the jar from Art’s desk, chucking it against the wall nearby and shattering it to pieces. 

She stared at Art furiously, nose flaring slightly. His hands were up in defense, mouth creating an ‘o’ of surprise with eyebrows raised. He then smiled deviously, setting down his tools without breaking eye contact and rising from his chair intimidatingly. 

Her head tilted up to look at him, standing her ground and expression unchanging as he stepped in front of her. His hand then snatched her jaw, almost painfully as he forced her to hold his gaze. His nose twitched before he suddenly let go, turning away from her with a frown and walking towards his bag. 

He picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder and looked at her one last time before walking out of the building. 

(Y/n) stared at the door as it closed behind him, taking a deep breath. She turned to look at the shards of glass on the floor, biting her lip in thought. One of her hands covered her eyes, then ran down her face before she grabbed a broom sitting against a corner and began to sweep up the mess. 

Guilt began to set in as she finished, deciding to wind down in her room before anything else had happened. She sank into the edge of her bed, elbows on her knees as her hands held her head.

(Y/n) tried to defend him, telling herself that he was just trying to cheer her up. But that couldn’t have been true. He knew she was irritated and went ahead and continued to annoy her anyways. But that still didn’t mean she had to lash out at him of all people. 

He had his own personal oddities and behaviors that were out of the norm, but he still had her best interest in mind. He just didn’t know how to properly show it and she should have been more understanding. 

(Y/n) eventually laid down on the bed, closing her eyes as her music played softly in the background. 

She wasn’t sure how long it had been before she heard the front door open again, a couple of hours at the least. She shot up from her bed, taking a deep breath and stood to open her door. She looked to her left, seeing Art’s now bloodied form dropping his bag in the workroom and she immediately walked over to him. 

Art jumped when he felt arms wrap around his torso from behind, face twisted into confusion before he realized what was happening. His shoulders relaxed, expression neutral as his dirtied hands came up to rest over (Y/n)’s arms. 

Her breath seeped through his suit as she sighed and he patted her arm, turning around in her grasp to face her. She looked up at him with apologetic eyes, lips frowning and his head tilted endearingly. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you…” She mumbled in shame, gnawing at her lip anxiously as he stared down at her with a level of intensity that was almost too much to bear. 

Art patted her cheek, his usual smile popping onto his face when he pulled away from her and motioned for her to wait a second. He turned to his bag and began to dig through it, picking out a few things before turning back to her. 

In his hands were new brushes. From the looks of it, they seemed to be of higher quality and her eyes lit up. 

The smile now on (Y/n)’s face nearly rivaled his own as she gently took the brushes from him, eyeing them in appreciation. She giggled excitedly and hugged him tightly, cheek squished against his chest. He patted her back, tipping his hat when she pulled away. 

“But why? I snapped at you?” She asked genuinely. 

He simply shrugged with a sheepish look and she giggled and shook her head, stepping up to kiss him on his cheek. He blinked rapidly at her, swinging abashedly. 

“Why are they bloody?” (Y/n) asked him with a smirk when he started to turn to make his way to his desk.

Art froze, lips downturned as if he was caught in the act with wide eyes, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. 

Tag list: @callsignwidow @hoe-for-daddywise

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 (𝘐 𝘏𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘛𝘰 𝘈𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘖𝘧 𝘐𝘵)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’d never expect a mission going sideways would result in a bonding moment between you and your boyfriend. Or: Bucky’s back is hurting and you offer a massage.

Warnings: rape/non-con, sexual abuse, (all past events), massages, ptsd, Hydra Themes, implied Hydra Trash Party.

Note: Thank you to @buckys-metal-arm for the idea!!! Your support means a lot to me!!

[Series Masterlist]

“Okay. So you did the shower and you’ve had the conversations. That’s good, James. If you keep working at it, I’m sure you’ll be fine having that kind of relationship soon.” Dr. Raynor said, scribbling down a note in her notebook.

For some reason, that made Bucky..uneasy. This is what he wanted, right? The thing he was working so damn hard towards? And it’s what you wanted. He knew that. What kind of waste would he be if he couldn’t give you that?

He knew how people who didn’t have sex were treated. And even if he wasn’t aware of how it was in the 21st century—he knew what it was like in the 30s. Married women who wouldn’t have sex? Prudes, old maids. Married men who weren’t sleeping with their wives—or women at all? Homosexuals, f—

He did not have time to get into those feelings right now. The point was, if he couldn’t give you that, he would be defective.

Was he defective? Damaged goods?

He blinked away the water in his eyes before Raynor looked up.

“Now, tell me, how has your week been? What did you do this week so far?” She asked.

You scrolled through your phone as you laid on the bed, your back propped against the pillows. Just then, Bucky stepped out from the en-suite bathroom, a towel around his waist. You knew he was comfortable with this, as you were directly across the room and as long as you didn’t make any sudden movements.

His back faced the wall to your left as he attempted to bend down to reach the handle of the middle drawer on his side, where he kept his underwear.

“Fuck,” he grunted under his breath as he straightened back out. You knew his back was bothering him. It had been hurting all of yesterday too. You knew it was from an injury he’d gotten the day before yesterday, from a mission that had gone awry.

“Buck, you really should see a doc—“ You began.

“No. I’m fine.” He replied, turning his head to look at you as he held his back like a little old lady.

Yeah, okay, the doctor idea was dumb. He was terrified of hated doctors. And it wasn’t like he could just take some pain pills, due to the Serum.

“I could give you a massage?” You offered after a moment. He stared at you, finally turning his body to face you. His head was tilted down slightly, his eyes darting down and to the side. It was his typical ‘confused, unsure, kicked puppy’ expression. It made you want to grab the sides of his head and pepper his face with kisses.

“Okay,” he nodded slowly, after a moment. And then, without putting any other clothes on besides the towel, he walked towards the other side of the bed and laid down on his chest. It was an insane amount of trust.

You grinned. He’d turned his head to face you and he gave a weak smile back as you crawled across the bed to be next to him. He turned his head the other way, still looking at you through the corner of his eye. You knew it was more physically comfortable for him to lay that way, and you were proud of him. Finally, comfort had won over caution. It was a big step for him.

“I’m gonna touch you know, ‘kay?” You warned.

“Okay.” He hummed his approval as you slowly extended your arms. You graced your fingertips against his back, gentle before you rested your entire hands against him. Baby steps.

Of course you noticed the way his thighs pressed together tightly, but you didn’t say anything. The trust was still there.

You began to gently knead into the muscles. “S’helping?” You asked.

“Mm. Feels good.” He hummed. You chuckled at his response.

As you began to move lower down his back, you finally noticed how fuckin’ tightly he was clenching his asscheeks. It wasn’t a huge deal to you, but he was so tense you could see it in his thighs. You had noticed him bringing his hand up to gently hold the bedsheets beside his head, and yeah, his lazy grin had gone away, but you’d assumed he was calm.

“Need me to stop?” You said after a moment.

“No,” he said after a moment of consideration. “S’okay. I trust you.”

He clenched a little less tightly.

He cleared his throat as he walked into the kitchen the next day.

You were at the counter, making some sandwiches for lunch. The clock on the microwave read 11:00 AM.

“Hey,” you said, as usual.

“Hey. Uhm..thanks. For last night.” He said, fiddling with his hands.

“You already thanked me, Bubba. S’not a problem.” You grinned as you took the two paper plates to the counter. He quietly thanked you as he accepted his plate before setting it down.

“No, I mean—thank you. You had a helluva opportunity to—“ he took his outstretched hand and quietly jerked it an inch forward. You were really impressed that your mind hadn’t exploded like the emoji at the gesture.

“—but you didn’t.” He continued. “So..thank you.”

You shook your head once. “Uhm—no, you really don’t need to thank me for not—for that. Like, you actually don’t.” You stumbled the words out awkwardly.

“I..made this really weird, didn’t I?” He said after a minute.

“A little,” you smiled lovingly. “But it’s okay. Cause I love you. And you really don’t need to thank me for not being a..I don’t even have the words to describe it.” You chuckle a little.

He smiled warmly. “I love you too.”

A/n: remember the first part!!! I’m going somewhere with that I promiseee

graphics by @saradika-graphics

[royboyfanpage]

Can I ask your thoughts and opinions on Mia?

Thank You 🙂

Oh I have SO many thoughts and opinions on Mia Dearden.

I feel like a big issue I've seen with how people try and fit the Arrowfam family dynamic is that they end up erasing a lot of aspects of Mia while doing it. Don't get me wrong, I have seen some brilliant analysis of Mia in fandom, but things such as Mia's early supposed crush on Ollie and her kiss with Connor tend to get ignored in the fandom, or in some cases I've seen people try and use the "DC stands for disregard canon" mentality against these events, which I think are just counterproductive.

In the case of Ollie, Mia having a "crush" on him at the beginning of their relationship IS very important to their father/daughter relationship, both in how Mia views herself and what she believes she deserves and how Ollie is able to disprove her preconceived notions of what a caregiver is supposed to do. It's important to note this panel in particular-

Because this mindset that Richard taught her is very influential for how Mia assumes Ollie will be and what Ollie will want. Because obviously Richard is manipulating and grooming Mia when he says this, but those things Richard claims to be doing- loving and caring for her- are what Ollie actually does do when he takes her in.

The biggest examples of Mia's "crush" on Ollie both take place in #11- her dream where she kisses Ollie, and her outright saying she has a crush on him. In terms of the dream, it's important to take into account that this was the same dream wherein she became Speedy. Mia's lived a significant part of her life at this point where everything has a price- the supposed protection Richard gave her came at the price of sex. Since Mia's dream at that point was becoming Speedy, she automatically assumed that becoming Speedy would come at the price of having to have a sexual relationship with Ollie when we know this isn't what she wants- like she told Richard, all she really wants is to be a kid and be treated like a kid, but she's not used to the idea that that could be a possibility. As for her saying she has a crush on Ollie, that was directly following Ollie expressing genuine paternal affection towards her, something she doesn't have experience with. She doesn't know how to respond to that, so her response is a mix between trying to downplay the genuine moment and saying what she still somewhat believes Ollie wants to hear.

In addition, I was talking to @lesbian-cowpoke recently about this actually, and in their words, "Mia views him as a father and that's WHY she had the "crush" on Ollie. Oftentimes, victims of CSA (especially incestuous ones like mia) will engage in inappropriate behavior and thoughts because of the severe damage sustained to their psyche. There are studies upon studies on how CSA survivors externalize their behaviors and have issues with interpersonal relationships, and sometimes (like in mia's case) go sorta in search if relationships that replicate that behavior" which is really the perfect explanation.

As for Connor, I don't think it takes much reading comprehension to understand that scene. It explicitly says in the scene that the kiss was a gesture and not one of sexual or romantic intent. In that scene, Mia was telling Connor she’s worried she’s dirty and nobody would want to love her because of her HIV, and Connor kissing her was proving to her that there will still be people out there who want to kiss her and give her physical affection in a romantic sense, and to prove that he isn't afraid of her diagnosis. He was co-opting a typically romantic gesture to use in a non romantic way to prove that she is capable of being loved, which is Such an important aspect of her HIV storyline.

I think Mia's story is genuinely one of the most well written stories in DC history. The development of her relationship with the rest of the Arrowfam- particularly with Ollie- is so compelling to read. I love the way their relationship is built because there are so many scenes that just feel so real. Ollie and Mia don't have the perfect father/daughter relationship. They have their ups and downs. But the important thing is they're able to resolve these issues with communication.

I'm also a really big fan of the way Mia inherited the name Speedy, and the parallels between her and Roy are so poignant. Speedy as a name repeatedly humanising stigmatised groups in society- addicts, sex workers, and people with STIs specifically. I also love the fact that to Mia, Roy's one of her biggest heroes not in spite of his addiction but because of it- because he managed to overcome his addiction and survive. Speedy means survival and perseverance and it's the perfect mantle for Mia to take up.

So yeah, those are some of my thoughts and opinions on Mia Dearden :) hope this is okay!