#some of last year are still in the freezer I think…

[beardedhandstoadshark]

I need a new niche interest to obsess over and I’m not able to pick. Can you infodump about your own hyperfixations so I can adopt one of them?

Just to ask something here, because between the last ask about hyperfixations and this one I found out that’s actually strictly an adhd term, right? Cuz regardless of suspicions I kinda don’t really have an official diagnosis or anything, so answering this ask As Is seems a bit like indirectly pretending I do, which seems?? Kinda mean to lead you on like that?? So, yeah. Just wanted to clarify/apologize/make sure everything’s cool and comfy here

But anyways, infodumping! I mean, there’s the usual, the videogames, kirby, pokemon, Zelda, minecraft, etrian odyssey- but those are like half this blog anyways and minus the last one not very niche so I kinda doubt they’re gonna be interesting. Uhhhhhhh if the following isn‘t doing it for you please tell me and I‘ll try to find something else, but otherwise

DID YOU KNOW CUCUMBERS ARE CACTI!?

Well not really. But I’m growing some right now and a) their leaves a *gigantic* and b) they’re very fuzzy but also kinda rough because of their hairs, while their stems are full on prickly- I’m guessing it’s a safety mechanism because the cucumbers grow very close to the stems so it makes sense, but having tiny plant-glass shards in your hand still hurts lol. Also depending on the sort, the cucumbers themselves can also have actual spikes. Their flowers are really pretty, they’re big and yellow with 5 leaves, kinda remind me of hibiscuses without the middle thingy. There’s usually separated male and female flowers (unlike tomatoes or peppers) but some variations are bred to only produce female flowers that pollinate themselves, and when they need the male ones for their seeds they make the plants grow those by using silver-ions, which sounds kinda metal ngl (pun absolutely intended). Also their tendrils? Twines? Are super strong for how tiny they are compared to the plant, if they feel something climbable they really latch on to that and don’t let go. They’re actually touch sensitive, kinda like Venus fly traps. Not as instantaneous though lol, it does take a bit of time.

I’ve also got two begonias that I saved from getting thrown into the trash, and apparently their flowers are edible…?? They are really pretty though. And change colors depending on sunlight! They’re apparently supposed to be sitting in half-shadows but mine are taking the sunlight pretty well and turns out if they get a lot, the plant gets redder- not just the flowers but also the leaves and the stems! They’re also male-female separated, with the male ones having differently shaped leaves (and I think I also counted 5 instead of 4?) that’re on top of a capsule holding the seeds, which are microscopically small! You can barely see them and gotta "plant“ them by brushing them like super fine sand. Also apparently another way of growing new ones is by just. Breaking off a branch and sticking it in the mud? Which is?? Super weird??? Because these guys are very fleshy and on normal difficulty, while the only other plant I know you can clone like that is my bow hemps.

And those guys are basically indestructible. Like, normally that credit goes to cacti but those need light. Meanwhile my big guy‘s been hanging out in my no-light-after-11am-room all this time and doing great. They only need water once a week normally but I forgot yet because it’s been sitting in shadows this guys been groovin though 3 weeks. There’s even a tiny baby plant growing! They only grow a single flower per cluster so the main way of getting more is by either chopping said babies away from the mother cluster, or by chopping leaves horizontally so you get stripes, and sticking those in soil. Apparently it can take months until something grows, though. Also when you use this method with the sort that has yellow stripes on the side, it‘ll lose those stripes? Even though the leaf stripe (and therefore the genes) has that yellow in it? Couldn’t find why that happens yet, but it’s interesting. The only way to really screw up with them is either bugs in the soil (though they can tank those too to some degree), or getting too much. Nutrients, but mostly water. It’s better to use pots that‘re a bit tighter and also have holes underneath because the biggest threat is rot, either root or stem rot. That’s also why you shouldn’t give them (or any plants that grow in this circle form) water from above, because it’ll get stuck inside the center and cause rot. It’s better to fill something up with water and put the pot inside, that way you also don’t risk giving them too much water and having it soak your entire floor/desk/etc. Also pots with holes are just better in general because all flowers got the same "too much water = drowned roots“ problem. (Except for my begonias for some reason which frequently get their entire soil drowned and still grow like nothing - even though they’re supposed to take it especially bad?? Not complaining though, just confused)

And tomatoes are berries which makes a lot of sense if you think about it but also feels horribly wrong since they’re neither sweet nor sour

[bogleech]

I have seen the first four episodes of the Sausage Party miniseries, because that exists, and let me tell you the plot so far:

The foods have exterminated most of humanity, at least as far as they or the audience can tell. The story is limited to just the immediate city around the supermarket so I dunno. The foods then try to build their own better society, but soon a bartering system evolves around the symbolic value of human teeth, and a power-mad orange realizes he can amass more of this abstract "wealth" by controlling the flow of resources. Many foods try to ignore this arbitrary system and take whatever they want, so "rules" are established that you're not allowed to just take things, and will have to be punished if you do, with some foods appointed positions of enforcing the rules. The foods think it's only fair that the law be enforced the same for everybody, failing to factor in that some foods require refrigeration in order to not melt or decompose, and the last functioning freezer is already owned by the orange. Without enough teeth in public circulation, perishable foods become increasingly more likely to break the law as they sicken and die, and so the most vulnerable of their society become the most severely punished by an increasingly violent police force [of mostly canned hams]. Anyway while all this is going on the hot dog and the hot dog bun are secretly keeping a live human prisoner and feeding him feet they sawed off of other human corpses. This is where we've left off so far. The writing of all this is much more competent than you are probably imagining, seemingly thanks to a co-writer from Shrek 2, and it appears to have taken so many years to come out because now the animators are being well paid for healthier work hours. I still didn't pay to watch it though because fuck amazon

[finelinefae]

safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.

word count: 5.4k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey

a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333

this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here

. . .

Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonight—the date she’d been looking forward to all week.

This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simple—strolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.

Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didn’t matter—she’d have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.

She opened Harry’s contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.

Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.

Suddenly, the call connected, and Harry’s voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. “Bambi? Was jus’ about to pick y’ up. You missin’ me already?”

Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. “Harry…” Her voice cracked.

“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.

“I-I can’t go on our date tonight,” she confessed, her voice shaky.

“What d’you mean? Don’t be silly, is something wrong?” His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just… my mom came home late, and she’s, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. I’m really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if you’re mad or—if you never want to see me again—”

“Woah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickin’. I don’t hate you, not at all. It’s closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “Y’promise?”

“Five pinkie swears, baby,” he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. “It’s alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have y’eaten today?”

His kindness made her heart swell. “N-No, but we’ve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?”

“Bambi, I’m already on my way to your house.”

Her breath hitched. “What? But, Harry, I can’t—”

“You think I’d let a little change of plans stop me from seein’ you? Been needin’ to see m’Bambi all day. How ‘bout this: you help your mum, and I’ll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and I’ll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice lighter now. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”

Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that she’d normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe. 

. . . 

Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harry’s voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother. 

“I know jujitsu, you know,” Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.

“You take classes?” Harry asked, bemused.

“No, I learned it on Roblox,” Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before. You’ll have to show me sometime,” Harry said with a grin.

Archie snorted. “You could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.”

Y/N’s face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harry’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Y/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,” Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.

“Archie,” Y/N gasped, “this is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.”

Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archie’s face. “Who’s Harry?”

Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to her little brother. “He’s... my special friend.”

Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/N’s shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.

“H-Harry, I’m really sorry—” she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.

“Bambi,” he murmured with a soft sigh, “I missed you.”

She smiled against his chest. “You just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.”

Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. “Kiss?”

Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmured against her lips. “I brought pizza.”

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N sighed softly. “I was just going to throw something in the oven.”

“Hey, Bambi.” She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. “I wanted to. I’m here to help, okay? Now, why don’t we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and I’ll set the table.”

“O-Oh, okay.” She nodded, a bit flustered. “Just so you know, my brothers can be… intense.”

Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. “It’s okay, I’ve got a niece. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.

“Who are you?” a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.

“That’s Y/N’s special friend,” Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.

“Weren’t you the guy making out with my sister the other night?” The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.

Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Sammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.” Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said. 

“Jack, can you grab an extra chair?” Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sister’s instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chest—part of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didn’t know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him they’d had to adapt quickly.

They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.

“Calm down,” he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. “Y’ so stiff, Bambi.”

Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I just get so—”

“So?” Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. “So what, baby?”

“So nervous,” Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.

A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the couple’s banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.

“How old are you?” Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.

Y/N choked on her drink. “Sammy! You can’t just ask people that—it’s rude!”

Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. “No, it’s alright,” he said, amused. “I’m thirty.”

“Whoa, you’re old!” Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.

“Archie!” Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.

“I guess it is kind of old,” Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.

“Are you rich?” Sammy pressed, undeterred.

Y/N’s face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“I do well,” Harry replied, keeping his tone light. “I own a fashion company.”

“That means he’s rich,” Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. “Do you have a sports car?”

Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I own three.”

Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. “No wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!”

“If you think that’s cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,” Harry teased.

“Candy?” Archie’s eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.

“Better.”

“Ice cream?”

Harry nodded. “Ice cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.”

Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner weren’t a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.

Harry’s smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. “What do you want from my sister?” Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.

Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before she’d even taken a bite.

Harry’s hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.

“It’s still early,” Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammy’s without faltering. “But I really, really like your sister.”

Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. “You’re not allowed to like her as much as we do.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.

Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

. . .

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes they’d made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.

"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"

Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game they’d been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.

Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark you’re taking us to," Archie said eagerly.

Harry’s eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard there’s a certain someone’s birthday coming up soon."

Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebration—movies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/N’s smile faded slightly.

Harry noticed the shift immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"

"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Archie's birthday isn’t for another month."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just don’t want to make promises, you know, in case… I mean, what if…" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldn’t help worrying about the future—the uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.

"Bambi," Harry’s voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Where’d you go?"

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Y’ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else ‘cause you're thinkin’ too much."

"I do that?" she asked, surprised.

"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."

"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.

"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothers—they’re a credit to you."

Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my mom—"

"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.

She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.

That is, until Sammy’s voice rang out from the hallway. "I’m coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"

Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, we’re behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in her mind—words that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.

. . .

Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm she’d set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harry’s employment. She was excited, of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.

She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.

Harry: Morning, Bambi 🌞 There’s a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? I’ll be waiting for you at the office. You’re gonna be amazing x

A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harry’s words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldn’t help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.

She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.

Y/N: Thank you. I’m a little nervous but I’ll do my best. See you soon 💕

Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said “professional but approachable,” taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the time—6:45 a.m.—the car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.

She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only person awake in the world.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

“That’s me,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.

You can do this. You’re ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.

Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x

Bambi: Isn’t that my job today? x

Harry: It’s my job to take care of you everyday

Y/N didn’t realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage. 

Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide away—but then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.

She’d seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeable—until he looked her way, and his whole form softened.

“You’re here,” His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.

She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, “Good morning, Mr Styles.”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. “Ready for today?”

“Y-yes,” She said but it wasn’t all that convincing.

Harry grabbed her hand, “You’ll be just fine Bambi.” He murmured the nickname just for her to hear. 

The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/N’s nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.

As they stepped into the elevator, Harry’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since she’d last seen him.

When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.

Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/N’s hand as he greeted her.

“Lindsey, this is Y/N,” he said, glancing between them. “She’s starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.”

Lindsey extended her hand warmly. “Oh is this-”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. “I have to admit, I’m a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistant—he can be a real pain most days.” She shot him a playful look. “But don’t worry, just don’t enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.” 

Y/N giggled and Harry’s eyes brightened at the sound, ““Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, “you’re in very good hands.” He turned to Lindsey. “Make sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but don’t overwhelm her.”

Lindsey chuckled. “I’ll keep it light for today, boss. We’d be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, “I’ll see you later, then.” His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasn’t the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good. 

“Alright, let’s get started,” Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harry’s office. “First things first—coffee? I’ll show you the best spot, and then we’ll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.” 

. . .

Y/N liked Lindsey a lot. 

She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistake—like earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and white—Lindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasn’t used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.

Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, she’d explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.

Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.

“Okay, Harry’s in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,” Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.

She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. “He’s particular about the temperature—hot but not scalding,” Lindsey explained with a wink. “Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of things.”

Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.

“You’ll be fine,” Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. “Just go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. You’ll be a natural at this in no time.”

“I’m going in alone?” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“It’s good practice,” Lindsey grins, “Good luck!”

Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harry’s eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.

As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.

In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.

““Watch where you’re going!” he barked, rising from his seat. “Do you even know how to serve properly?”

Y/N’s heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.

“Do you think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.

“She stained my shirt! She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it,” the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew he’d crossed a line.

Harry’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. “Y/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.

Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harry’s signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. “Your final check—enough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.”

“Final?” Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.

“Correct,” Harry replied nonchalantly.

Mr. Smith’s face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. “Meeting adjourned,” Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.

Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.

Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. “I feel like I can’t do anything right,” she admitted, her voice muffled.

Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“You can’t fire people because of me, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ve wanted to get rid of him for ages—just a sexist prick. Turns out you’re a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,” he chuckled lightly.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. “These eyes,” he whispered.

A smile broke through her sadness. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting.”

“Don’t care, Bambi.” He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. “You actually made it better.”

“I did?” she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.

“Mhm,” he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harry’s lips brushed against hers. 

“Okay, what the hell happened?” Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.

“Wow, Lindsey,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. “Try knocking next time, yeah?”

“Since when have I ever needed to knock?” Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.

“Since now,” Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, “If you’ll excuse me…” He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.

A laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time she’d witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “So, are you two like…?”

“No,” Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.

Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. “Might want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,” she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.

. . .

Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. “Bambi,” He slurred against her lips.”

“Hm?” She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer. 

“I was thinking,” He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, “Maybe this weekend y’ could come to my place and stay the night.”

“The night?” She’d never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house. 

“Yeah… Would you be okay with that?” 

“Y-Yeah, I think so.”

“Y’ think so?” Harry grinned, “Are y’ sure?”

She smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Well, alright then,” he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.

Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.

Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing

Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!

Harry: Can’t help it Bambi 

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

. . .

taglist ~~

@ravenclawmarvel @noididnotsignupforthis @comicalivy  @boomitsallie1 @hazzarules @squirreljoe @c3lline0 @harry2121 @lizsogolden @its-his-dimples @tchalametishot @youngpastafanmug @awritingtree @reidsblessing @idontcareforausernamesblog @madstyles3204 @cherrys4suckers @lomlolivia @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[yikesmary]

options — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: where cheol tries his best to make sure your pregnancy cravings are satisfied—by buying what seems to be the whole convenience store

notes: this can be seen as a pt. 2 to this one shot I wrote back in June of last year (I did not know it's been that long since that has been posted wtf), but it can also be seen as a standalone. I got a burst of inspiration suddenly, so enjoy the one shot! <3

disclaimer: I am not pregnant, so whatever I write about pregnancy is through pure guessing, and also, if I decide to google it! so yeah :)

masterlist

"Did you leave any food for the other customers who might want to eat tonight?" you asked in amusement, watching Seungcheol put what seemed like the fifth plastic bag filled with food from the convenience store onto the table.

"Well, you kept on texting me things the baby might want, so I decided to get everything you've been craving and maybe some things that might work," Seungcheol explained, a bit out of breath from how many times he had to go back and forth.

"Baby, don't you think this is a bit too much? I don't even think baby girl will want a fourth of these," you said, rubbing your pregnant belly.

Ever since you and Seungcheol found out you were pregnant, he had become an even more attentive husband, if possible. He had insisted that you were not allowed to lift a single finger throughout your pregnancy, saying that you shouldn't get tired.

You had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? He would wake up the second you called his name, helping you from the bed and waiting outside the bathroom to make sure you didn't fall in or something (it had happened once, and Seungcheol was both worried and amused at the time). You were hungry? Seungcheol was already ordering something from a food delivery app or cooking one of the doctor-approved dishes that he taught himself to make.

He also made sure all of your pregnancy cravings were satisfied, which was why you've found yourself with what must've been the entire convenience store stock in your home. "So where do we start?" you asked, watching as he brought out a ton of different food out of the bags—chips, samgak (and regular) kimbap, ramen packs, and even ice cream from the bags.

"We should probably see if baby wants the already made food, and the ice cream can be a dessert?" He suggested, but you were already eyeing up your favorite ice cream from even before you got pregnant.

Seungcheol saw that you were looking at the ice cream and without fail, gave it to you before going to the freezer in order to put the rest in so they don't melt. "Thank you," you grinned, a mouthful of ice cream, which made him shake his head in endearment.

"Here, smell this," he said, giving you an open bag of chips.

You looked at him weirdly, yet smelled it. "It smells... like chips?" you said and smelt it one more time just to be sure.

"Does the baby want this?" He asked.

"Oh, not really," you shook your head, and he closed up the chip bag and proceeded to grab another bag, presumably to do the same.

"This one?" Seungcheol asked, giving you what looked like the last item, which was a cup tteokbokki.

"Oh, yeah!" You excitedly said.

"Really?!"

"No, I just wanted to make you happy, but the baby's really not liking it," you sighed.

Seungcheol sighed, which made you feel guiltier, as he had bought all of this food, and it was nothing you were currently craving. "I'm so sorry, Cheol. Maybe I can eat something—" you were saying as you were picking up a package of sweet bread, but quickly dropped it once the smell hit your nose.

"No, you shouldn't have to force yourself to eat if you don't like it. It's not your fault our daughter might just be the pickiest eater ever. I'll just bring all of this to practice tomorrow and the guys can eat all of it," Seunghceol shrugged.

You still felt guilty, which he must've seen by the look on your face, which prompted him to grab you gently so he could give you a hug. "Maybe there's something in the fridge?" He suggested, holding your hand and using his thumb to caress the back of your hand.

You thought about it for a moment before releasing Seungcheol's hand, to which he pouted when you did and walked towards the refrigerator. You looked through the fridge, but nothing caught your eye.

Until a bright orange Tupperware lid caught your attention and you grabbed it. Once you opened it, you looked at Seungcheol sheepishly. "I found something to eat.." you said.

Seungcheol stood up walked over to you and looked at the Tupperware. "Isn't this the japchae Mingyu and Jun made?" he asked, and you nodded.

"I guess I'm gonna have to ask them to make you japchae every time you crave it. Or learn it myself,"

taglist: taglist: @belladaises @winterpaos @minhui896 @baekhyunimochibbh @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @coffeesandrains @slaveofmydreams @bmkgemz @dandycharmer @outrologist @stagefrjghts @dahliatopia @exo-saranghajaaa @uhlatcha @watermelon-sugars-things @miniminimingi @venzline @withloveyjh @lockburn-castle @userjunhuii @mypsychicpizzaworld @violetvoo @maevadobreva @soonyoungblr @baekhyunstruly @ryusol @dunixxd @minhwa @ovai @scorpiobitch88 @icyminghao @cookiehaos @duskunt1ldawn

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Eight

Summary: Jungkook's feelings for you have grown immensely and he can't hold himself back from being honest anymore. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 2.6K~ (I know it's short but it was at a good stopping point and I couldn't figure out how to continue it without a big time skip/harsh break so yeah enjoy this mini chapter 😅) Warnings: No warnings just fluff a/n: Another almost four months and I only have a little bit for you 😔 I'm still trying to figure out how I want to go about finishing this story (yes it's close to the end) so please bear with me 😪 but either way I hope you enjoy!

Ever since I told him last month that I didn't want to be friends anymore and by default telling him that I wanted to be with him things have been different.

We've settled into a new routine with the tension between us no longer burning to the point I shy away but something that feel natural, domestic even. 

I guess you could say that's pretty obvious from the fact that we're living together but his subtle touches are welcomed and expected.

Things as simple as his hand on my lower back as he passes by or his arms wrapped around me from behind with his chin propped up on my shoulder or even a kiss on the forehead are all things that we've settled into and it makes me feel loved. 

Love is still a scary word for me to think about or even say aloud but it's something I feel towards him, deeply, hopelessly, painfully.

At times I remember that things could suddenly change without warning. That he could toss me out as soon as he gets fed up with waiting like Jared did. That he cou-. 

"Ow!" I cry out when he pinches my side, "What was that for?" I whine, the spot he abused  already sore. "I've been calling your name for five minutes and you didn't respond so..." he chuckles and I hum, not having the energy to scold him further. 

He wraps his arms around my waist and props his chin on my shoulder just like I had been thinking about while spacing out, leaving me relaxing into him, the feeling of being in his arms taking away some of the anxiety that had started to build. 

"You okay?" he asks, placing a kiss on my cheek to which I hum again, nodding along with it. "You sure, because you've been stirring your coffee for the past seven minutes" he says, my hand stilling once he points it out. 

I take a drink of the completely cold beverage and sigh in defeat, realizing that his words are true. 

"I wanted it cold anyways" I mumble and turn to walk over to the freezer to add some ice, Jungkook letting go but still staying close. 

"Something's wrong" he says after observing me for another second or two, very used to reading my body language. "Nothing's wrong I'm just...tired" I reply and the truth is I am. 

"My internship has been kicking my ass and I don't know, I guess it's all starting to catch up to me" I relent and he takes a turn humming, knowing I'm not telling him the whole truth. 

"You know you can tell me anything right?" he says, coming closer and cradling my face in his hands, granting him a sad smile in return. 

"I know, but I promise I'm fine. It's just been a long week that's all" he studies my features for a while and decides to take my word for it, seeing that I'm not ready to talk about it. He nods his head a tiny bit before leaning in and giving me a soft kiss on my lips, one that lasts but a moment before pulling away.

"You wanna watch something tonight?" he asks and I smile as my answer, making him chuckle. "I'll make the snacks if you wanna go choose" he offers and I nod, my face still cradled in his hands so he gives me one last kiss before letting go and leaving our source of entertainment up to me.

~~~~

As the movie we've already watched and fallen in love with plays Jungkook notices my absence even though I'm cuddled up next to him, my reactions being minimal to nonexistent.

The parts we always laugh at are met with the sounds of his enjoyment and not mine so he pauses it and waits for me to notice which I don't for a while leaving him even more worried. 

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours Bunny? Did I do something wrong?" he asks and I sit up, needing him to know that he hasn't. "No, no you've been wonderful, better than I deserve honestly" I say, mumbling the last part but of course he hears it loud and clear.

"I'm good to you because I love you and you do deserve it, that's all" he admits so freely that I almost don't catch it. "You...what?" I ask, almost too scared to breathe. "I love you" he says with a crooked smile, clearly enjoying my practically speechless state.

I sit there for a minute, stunned into silence, not having expected that at all but he just laughs. "What? You didn't think I loved you?" he asks, brushing a stray strand of hair off of my face, letting his fingers trail down my neck before withdrawing his hand.

"No...I mean maybe? Isn't it a little too early for I love you's?" I ask, tentative to say it after I had been burned by...

"I don't think so. I mean it might be forward but I've loved you for a long time and I've cared about you even longer. You're someone that has been a constant in my life for many many years and the fact that you've given me permission to hold you, kiss you...well it's something that I don't think I can hold back anymore" he confesses, making me feel as though my heart might explode. 

"I-" "You don't have to say anything. Take your time and only say it if you truly mean it Darling. I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for" he says, chancing caressing my face again and rubbing his thumb along my bottom lip. 

"Come here" he says and pulls me in, having me straddle him not for anything sexual but just for the need to hold me close. 

I burry my face in his neck and he rubs my back, knowing that I feel vulnerable since although he's not rushing me, I know he'll be waiting for an answer. 

"I'm scared" I mumble against his skin and he hums, understanding the situation honestly more than I wish he did. He witnessed the ups and downs of the relationship between Jared and I and sat on the sidelines, knowing he could treat me better but caring about me too much to take away my right to make my own decisions and choose who I love even if it wasn't him. 

"Take your time Bun. You know I'll always be here for you, no matter how long it takes" he reassures me of what I knew, making me nod and wrap around him even tighter, taking his words as genuine but still terrified that this could all slip away at any moment. 

~~~~

A week goes by and I still haven't said it and it's killing me.

When he says goodbye he says it, whenever we've been intimate he says it, he even says it randomly just to try to make me smile but my mind won't truly let it sink in until I say it back.

"Baby?" he asks, knocking on my partially ajar door, seeing that I've been taking a little while longer to get out of bed this morning. 

I hum and let him come in, trying to assess the state I'm in before saying anything else as he comes and sits down on my side of the bed, looking down at me and placing his hand on my waist. I'm still laying down, not having made an effort to get up just yet which I know worries him as well but he doesn't push me too hard. 

"You not feeling well?" he asks, now going to check my temperature with the back of his hand but not noticing a fever of any sort making his theory very short lived. "No, just tired" I say quietly, not having spoken a word since I woke up, my voice still raspy which I can tell he enjoys but doesn't comment on this time.

"You want me to make you something? It's already lunch time and you haven't eaten all day huh?" he asks, knowing the answer but still allowing me the chance to reply. "Yeah maybe something simple like a sandwich?" I request and he nods.

"Want me to get it from that sandwich place we love?" he suggests, rubbing small circles on my waist but I shake my head. "No I'm craving one of your sandwiches" I say making him smile, knowing one of his favorite forms of praise is compliments on his cooking. 

"Okay Bun, the usual?" he asks, knowing exactly what I want but asking just in case I'm feeling like something a little different today but I nod my head in approval making him lean down and place a kiss on my forehead before asking if I want him to bring it up here to which I decline. 

"I need to get out of bed at some point" I say and he shrugs, "You're allowed to have a lazy day every once in a while if you'd like. I could even come join you later on?" he proposes making me smile, in favor of his suggestion. 

"Can we take a nap after lunch?" I ask and he smirks a bit, testing the waters to see what I'm actually asking for. "Just a regular nap this time" I roll my eyes leaving him sighing dramatically before leaving, telling me he'll call me down when it's ready.

Once he's gone the doubt that has been plaguing my mind comes circling back.

'What if he's just saying that to take pity on me? What if he's saying it to rush me into something I'm not ready for? What if-' I groan, cutting off the spiral that I send myself down every time I'm alone and throw the blankets off before going into my bathroom and throwing cold water on my face, glaring at myself in the mirror, daring me to keep acting like this.

He loves me. He loves...me. Why am I so torn up about this? People say it all the time so it's not like it's the end of the world. It's just that...well next time I say it I want to mean it. The next time I say it I want it to be real. 

I want to say it to the man that I'll promise to say it to forevermore. 

Call me a hopeless romantic all you want but if I'm going to trust someone with my heart again I don't want to regret it...

~~~~

"Here you go Bunny" he says and places my sandwich in front of me. "I love you" I mumble, softer than I've ever said anything before but it makes his movements stutter. 

"What was that Darling?" he asks, sitting down in the seat next to me at the table. "I um...I said 'Thank you'" I chicken out and although he wants to call me out on it he doesn't.

"You're welcome baby" he says, his smile a little brighter when he realizes that I'm trying, that I want to say it too but I just don't have the confidence yet. 

"Anything for you" he finishes and caresses my cheek before getting up and grabbing his plate along with our drinks. 

"You sure you're feeling alright?" he asks, my silence through lunch palpable since whenever he tries to start up a conversation I give him small short answers that make his efforts die in his throat. 

"I've just been feeling a little funky that's all" I say and he hums, contemplating his next words which surprise me. "I'm sorry" he says, defeated and honestly quite vulnerable. "Why are you apologizing?" I ask, not thinking that he would have done anything that would require something like that. 

"I knew you weren't ready and I rushed things but I wanted to be able to say what I felt for you because it was eating me alive. Having to cut off my sentences and not being able to speak my mind fully, holding you as close to my heart as possible but not being able to tell you that you had it in the palm of your hand already I just...I couldn't do it anymore" he says, his whole demeanor shifted into an almost sorrowful state that I can't hold it back anymore.

I can't keep hurting him like this when all I want to do is scream it for all to hear, even if the thought terrifies me.

"I love you" I say making his head pop up from it's dropped state, then feeling guilty and looking at his lap again as a result. "You don't have to say it just because I did. I just wanted to apologize because I know that that's was why you've been feeling so off lately" he says but I shake my head. 

"The thought of giving my heart to someone again scares the shit out of me. After...well after going through all of that the thought of opening myself up again was not something I wanted to do. I will admit I sought you out out of lust at first but as our friendship and eventual relationship began to grow I realized that I cared about you a whole lot more that I should" I say, me now with my head turned down, not being able to keep the intense eye contact he's giving me, hanging on every word. 

"I didn't know if you were doing these things for me because you felt sorry or because you truly cared. I know now that doubting your motives was honestly my own self doubt getting the best of me. You've done nothing but love and care for me since the beginning and I haven't let myself fully process the fact that I'm..." I cut myself off and take a deep breath.

"The fact that I'm falling in love with you" and although he said those words first the admission alone has me feeling as though he hadn't, as if he would change his mind now that I reciprocated his confession but he does anything but that, further confirming his true intentions for me as he pulls me closer. 

He doesn't pull me in with a carnal passion in mind, he doesn't even pull me in for a kiss, he pulls me in and holds me close, telling me wordlessly that he's proud of me. That he's proud of me for taking that step, for trusting him with my heart, my mind, soul, fully consumed by him without abandon.

"Thank you" he whispers, his face being buried in my hair making me laugh at the ticklish feeling. "Don't make it weird" I say and poke his side making him flinch and hold me tighter. "How can I not? The woman I love loves me back" he chuckles and when I try to pull back he squeezes me tighter. 

"Just let me have my moment" he huffs making me sigh and return his crushing embrace. "I love you" he says making me burry my face into his neck, mumbling it against his skin in return. 

"Nah nah nah, say it like you mean it" he says, pushing me back just enough so he can look at me. "But I do mean it!" I roll my eyes, playing into his pouty act. "Come on, say it!" he says, pushing me back and forth, making me sway. 

"I already said it, why do you need to hear it again?" I chuckle when his pout gets deeper. "Okay fine" I give in making his brows raise at my quick defeat. "I love you" I whisper in his ear and then run away, his hold on me having loosened from pure shock of my honesty, knowing now that I truly truly mean it. 

"Get back here!" he scolds once he's come back down to earth, the surprise replaced with determination, his intentions being to not let me go til sunrise.  

prev / next Series Masterlist

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @coralmusicblaze @whoa-jo @00frenchfries00 @pastelpinkjoon Tags continued in the comments 💜

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)

[selencgraphy]

— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

prompt drabble series - nonverbal ways to say ‘i love you’

5 - remembering a trivial fact about them

prompts from promptingyou

PAIRING: logan howlett x gn!reader

TAGS: they/them pronouns for reader, fluff, actions speak louder than words is logan’s strong suit, tall!logan bc i love hugh jackman :)

A/N: deadpool and wolverine revived my love for logan so this is just self-indulgent bc i love him so so much. the x-men movies were my gateway into marvel so i just have to show my man some love yk? happy reading <3

WORD COUNT: 597

masterlist || request box <3

You and Logan weren’t that close. Aside from having rooms right next to each other and being co-workers, you didn’t know much about him. Rarely were you ever in a room with him when it was just you two. 

Heading over to the kitchen for a midnight snack, you stumble upon him smoking by the window. “Can't sleep either?" you asked as you quietly padded across the wood. 

Logan merely grunted in response, taking a drag of his cigar. Grabbing the tub of your favorite ice cream from the freezer, you took a seat at the counter. The tub was practically almost empty so you resorted to eating straight out of it. "Are those really any better than regular cigarettes?" you carefully asked in hopes of breaking the awkward silence—well, at least to you it was awkward. At your question, he turned over his shoulder and leaned to sit down against the window sill, his eyebrows furrowed a little deeper than they normally were.

"Haven't tried anything but these," he replied, glancing down at it before looking back at you, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're the first person who's caught me smoking inside that didn’t immediately remind me of Chuck's stupid rule."

"I mean… it is a good rule considering this whole place is built of wood," you joked, taking another bite of ice cream before speaking again. "I'm not one for rules either anyways. It'd be a bit hypocritical of me to get on your case, don't you think?"

He hummed, the tiniest smirk on his face at your nonchalance. He'd been living and teaching (begrudgingly) at the mansion for a while now, but a lot of the kids and other X-Men were still intimidated by him. His tough guy façade certainly didn’t help much but that’s just how he was used to living after being alive for almost 200 years. But that never seemed to deter you. Putting out his cigar, he started to head back to his room. "Don't stay up too late, bub," he muttered as he passed you.

"Night, Logan,” you called over your shoulder, scraping the sides of the tub as you finished it out. Throwing it away, you made a mental note to grab more whenever you went back out to get groceries.

A couple days later…

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as you made your way down to the kitchen. It was pretty early in the day, but you weren’t one to let the time of day deter you from snacking on a few scoops of ice cream. Then you remembered. You had eaten the last bit the other night when you ran into Logan and had yet to restock. Damn.

So it came as a surprise to see yet another full tub in the freezer when you went to rummage through it to find something else to satiate your sweet tooth. A post-it was taped to the top of it, big black letters scrawled across it.

For Y/N. If you’re not them, do not touch this. - Logan

Your face brightened as you read it. Sure, it wasn’t that sweet of a message, but you’d take what you could get. Pulling it out, you realized it was the same exact flavor—your favorite flavor—and brand you loved. You’d barely spent five minutes with each other the other night, but he remembered.

“I gotta thank him later,” you thought to yourself as you sat down, your day made by the gesture. Maybe your efforts to befriend him weren’t a lost cause after all.

[xhazzz]

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

New Year’s Promise

warning: alcohol consumption, pet names, kissing and fluff

a/n: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong :)

masterlist || request’s are open

It was New Year’s morning, and Jake and I were doing some last-minute shopping. The supermarket was packed, the lines were endless, and there was barely enough room to maneuver the cart through the aisles.

“I told you we shouldn’t leave everything for the last minute,” I said to Jake as I steered the cart toward the wine and liquor aisle.

“Relax, bunny,” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders and giving them a little massage. “We still have a few hours before the year ends.”

“I know, Jake,” I sighed, “but I still have to make the lemon pie, you promised Payback you’d do your barbecue ribs, we need to shower, I still don’t know what outfit I’m wearing, I have to do my makeup, get ready…”

“Hey, stop. Calm down,” the blonde interrupted, halting the cart and pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Everything will be ready in time, and it doesn’t matter what you wear. You’re beautiful, babe.”

“Jake, I’m serious. You know how stressful this time of year is,” I added, leaning against his chest and inhaling his delicious cologne.

“Everything will be perfect. Besides, it’s just the guys. We see them practically every day,” he said, positioning himself behind me, his chest pressing against my back as he took control of the cart, and we started walking again.

The Dagger Squad only had a few days off, so they had planned the New Year’s dinner at Payback’s house with their respective partners. Nat and Bradley would be going together (they were finally accepting their feelings for each other), Fanboy would bring his wife and their little daughter, Bob and Coyote would probably show up solo unless they found a last-minute date, and then there was Jake and me.

“Here it is, exactly what I wanted,” Jake said, grabbing a few bottles of champagne off the shelf.

“Very classy, Mr. Seresin,” I laughed, glancing at the other bottles and pointing to some tequila. “We should grab a few of these too.”

“Planning to get wild tonight, darling?” my boyfriend teased, grabbing three bottles of tequila.

“Maybe, to ring in the New Year in the best mood,” I shrugged and continued walking down the aisle.

“So my New Year’s kiss will taste like tequila?”

“Probably…” I leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the lips and kept walking with Jake following behind, pushing the cart.

After finishing our shopping, we got back to his apartment and headed into the kitchen to prepare our dishes. Everything felt so natural; Jake and I looked like an old married couple cooking together, with a couple of beers open and jazz playing softly in the background.

“I was thinking…” my boyfriend started, washing the dirty dishes.

“About leaving the kitchen a mess?” I joked, laughing as I placed the lemon pie in the freezer.

“No!” he replied, laughing too. “I mean this—doing everyday things like grocery shopping and cooking together. Home stuff.”

“Babe, we already do home stuff,” I said, walking over to him as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Jake gently placed his hands on my hips and pulled me closer.

“I know, but I’d like it if you didn’t have to leave anymore—no more going back and forth to your apartment,” he added, kissing me softly.

“But I practically live here.”

“Then we should make it official. Move in with me,” he smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. God, this man had me wrapped around his finger.

“I don’t know, Jake. We’ve only been together a few months…”

“Six months have been more than enough to know I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” the blonde said, cupping my face and pulling me into a deep kiss. Even though I’d kissed him a million times, every time his lips met mine, I felt butterflies as if it were the first time. “Tell me you’ll at least think about it this time.”

“Alright, I’ll think about it,” I replied, kissing him again and smiling mid-kiss. Jake Seresin had been insisting for over two weeks that I should move in with him. It would make it easier for us to spend time together when he wasn’t working—no more late-night trips back to my place or rushing out at dawn so one of us could shower and get ready for work.

“It’s time to shower, Lieutenant,” I teased.

“My favorite part of the day,” my boyfriend cheered, guiding me to his bathroom with both hands on my waist. If we wanted to make it to dinner on time, he’d better behave…

Later, at Payback’s house, we were all gathered, laughing at the stories the guys shared about their time before Top Gun. One of Jake’s hands rested on my thigh, occasionally giving it a gentle squeeze or rubbing his thumb affectionately. After a few glasses of champagne and half a bottle of tequila, I was feeling a little tipsy but having a great time.

“Everything okay?” Jake asked, leaning in to kiss my temple.

“Everything’s perfect, Mr. Seresin,” I teased, playfully rubbing my nose against his chin.

“So, guys, what are your New Year’s resolutions?” Phoenix asked, taking a sip from her glass.

“To be the best in the squad and finally beat Hangman,” Coyote said, grabbing a piece of lasagna Bradley had made.

“In your dreams, buddy,” my man replied, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer.

“What about you, Bagman?” Rooster asked, mimicking his action by wrapping an arm around Nat.

“Well, considering I’m already the best, my first resolution is to convince this gorgeous lady to move in with me,” he said, looking at me tenderly. “And who knows? Maybe there’ll be a future Mrs. Seresin.”

Everyone laughed excitedly, and I felt my cheeks flush.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” I joked, playfully hitting his chest. “I didn’t know you’d already found my replacement.”

“Never, my love,” he replied, kissing me softly. We both laughed mid-kiss and pulled apart when Rooster whistled.

“Get a room,” he teased, pretending to gag.

“It’s almost midnight!” Bob announced, and we all gathered around the TV to watch the New Year’s special.

“10, 9…” we all counted.

“You know I meant what I said, right?” Jake murmured, placing his hands on my waist as if to keep me from running away. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, darling.”

“8, 7…”

“Are you serious?” I asked nervously, laughing. I wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or the way he was looking at me, but I felt my entire body trembling under his gaze.

“6, 5, 4…”

“I’ve never been more serious,” the blonde added, his eyes shining with emotion.

“3, 2, 1… Happy New Year!” we all shouted, and without hesitation, Jake pulled me into a kiss as if there were no tomorrow. His lips felt so good against mine, mixing with the taste of tequila.

“Yes,” I said once we pulled apart, breathless. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned closer to him (if that were even possible).

“Yes?” he asked, studying my face with excitement.

“Yes, I want to move in with you. And who knows? Maybe someday I’ll become Mrs. Seresin,” I replied. Within seconds, Jake was kissing me again, and in that moment, it felt like everything else disappeared around us. It was just Jake and me in our little bubble.

“God, you don’t know how happy you make me, woman,” my boyfriend said with a lovestruck smile. “By the end of the year, you’ll have a big diamond on that beautiful finger of yours. That’s a promise.”

[kinda-super-hot]

I Want More. (1)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Harvey Specter x F!Lawyer!Reader - friends to enemies to lovers <3

Summary: This will be a series! Part 1: (Y/n) and Harvey were 'together' during their time at Harvard, but Harvey couldn't commit to an actual relationship. They 'break-up', or whatever you do to end a situationship, and split on bad terms. Years later, after they become successful lawyers, their paths collide once again when (Y/n) takes a job at Pearson Hardman.

Warnings: commitment issues, angst, arguing - I think that's it but if you noticed something I missed, please let me know.

Word Count: 1784

A/N: I haven't written in a WHILE. Please, please, please constructive criticism. Also, there's, like, no Harvey fanfics. I think I read literally all of them soooooo... that's why there's this thing. Anyways, lemme know if you're interested in part 2 (I already started writing lol).

Harvey and I didn’t used to be so distant. Once upon a time, while we were both attending Harvard, I was the person he went to practice flash cards to study for the bar. While I sat against my bed frame asking him questions off the cards, he’d lay on his stomach with his feet in the air. Seeing as we were both quick witted, we’d often get distracted and end with a battle of lighthearted jabs.

               And likewise, he was there for me when I had been stood up on a date with some frat boy. He ordered in some Chinese food and pulled a big tub of ice-cream out of my freezer. We sat on my goodwill couch picking apart the guy and making up some dumb unfathomable story as to why he hadn’t texted.

               “I can’t wait to hear the headline in the morning: Duke, whatever the hell his last name was, found having been thrown from his car in a head on collision right into a semi-truck loaded with rubber ducks.” He did a news reporter voice that didn’t sound far off from how he normally talked. “Luckily, the ducks cushioned his fall, so he only suffered having lost his phone and missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime with the (Y/N) (L/N).” I repress my giggle but can’t stop the goofy smile on my face. “What a loss.”

               “I mean,” I spoon more ice-cream into my mouth, “Who would name their son Duke? You can tell they wanted a dog.” He nodded along to that and all the other ridiculous things we talked about that night.

               But some friendships don’t last forever. Especially, when you want more.

               We grew closer and had fleeting kisses often. Some borderline dates, but never anything serious. Never anything real. Not to him.

               “Harv.” I called his name from the couch after I heard the door to his apartment open and close. He walked through the door with a smile on his face. “How was your day?” I asked, but I already knew the answer just by looking at his face. He had a mock trial set that day and absolutely crushed it. He was assigned the husband’s attorney and was in charge of making sure that the wife got the minimum of what she was entitled to without having signed a prenup.

               After he boasted about his triumph, I applauded him. But he wasn’t finished running his big mouth. And his next, one little comment, threw our relationship through a loop. “One of the stupidest things a person can do is get married.” He smirked as he took of his jacket and started on his tie.

               I froze in my place on the couch. He continued getting comfortable and taking off his restricting clothes with his back facing me. My throat was tight, but I persevered, I had to make sure that I had heard him right. “You think marriage is stupid?”

               I eyed his back feeling distraught. Every fiber in my being hoped and pleaded that he was joking, but my gut knew better. Moreso, it knew Harvey better.

               “Marriage, in my eyes, is an irrational vulnerability. There’s no point other than, I don’t know, taxes?” He rambles on with his back still facing me. My heart clenches. “And even then, it’s not worth it. Divorce can ruin everything. A man, his family, hell, it can run an entire business into the ground.”

               My head was throbbing, and I couldn’t help the hot tears that brim my eyes. “Huh.” I acknowledge. My voice feels raw already from holding back letting out any noises. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

               My voice must have given me away because Harvey flicks his head over his shoulder to spare me a glance before double taking. His eyes widen and his body tenses. He turned his body to me and takes a step in my direction before stopping in his tracks. A tear falls down my cheek and I feel burning hot embarrassment in my chest.

               “Honey…” He gently grabs me by my biceps and looks into my eyes. “What’s wrong.” His voice is smooth as he caresses my cheek and pulls my face into his chest. I let out a choked cry and he rocks me back and forth for a few moments.

               I feel ridiculous. “Oh, it’s nothing.” I can tell I’m not being convincing when Harvey pulls my face from his chest and gives that knowing look before putting it right back where it belongs.

               I had no idea what to say. How do you tell your kind-of-but-not-really-boyfriend that you had already planned what the centerpieces at your wedding would look like? That this was it. This was everything you wanted. He was everything you wanted.

               “Even if it was me?” I blurted it out before I could really think about what I was saying. He looked confused for a second but then his face went stern.

               “Y/N.” All of a sudden, his delicate touch is a little heavier. “We’re not even-…” He cuts himself off and looks to the corner of the room. My mouth opened as I processed what he was too scared to say.    

               “You don’t want me.” My expression turned icy and I looked down. He let out a frustrated noise and pulled away from me. Though, I felt empty before he could even begin to move from my embrace.

               “That’s not it.” His brows were furrowed, and he wouldn’t look at me. That’s exactly it. I read his face and could feel he was holding something back. I was at a loss for words. I removed my body from the bed and let out an emotional scoff.

               I speedily walked into the bathroom, trying to make a plan. Any plan that won’t leave me anymore heartbroken than I already was.

Leave.

               It was my only option. I eyed the unused, small garbage bag next to the toilet and ripped it from its basket. “Y’know,” I suddenly felt his presence behind me. “I know you’re studying to be a lawyer and their whole schtick is lying and-” I started tossing my deodorant and face wash and every other thing I bought for his place into the bag. “-and withholding the truth.” I ranted in a demeaning voice. “But I didn’t think you would do that to me-”

               “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was raised and his hands were out to his side in an exasperated way. “I didn’t lie!” I didn’t stop tossing things in, in fact I’d finished my bathroom segment and moved on to his closet.

               “You’re right- you didn’t lie, you just kissed me, went on dates, and cuddled me! But, oh no, you’re right. We’re not anything.” I growled as I tossed my spare shirts and pants from his closet onto the bed before stuffing them in my already bulging, see-through bag.

               He didn’t yell, but he did have an icy tone when saying, “It’s not my fault if you convinced yourself there was something here when there wasn’t.” I stopped trying to make everything fit into the bag. The next few seconds were silent as I let his words sink in. My heart had to have gotten heavier because it felt like it was in my gut. Either that, or I was about to vomit.

               All I could think was ‘get out’. I couldn’t look at him, fuck, my heart hurts so bad. I tie off the bag and walked from his bedroom into the living room and finally, slam his front door. I couldn’t help but stop outside of it to try and listen for footsteps… but I heard none.

               So, I left. For the next few days, I spent my hours crying, sleeping, crying again and completely and utterly alone.

               I hardly saw Harvey again whilst I was at Harvard, thank God we were in different law classes. Of course, with an ego as big as his, it was impossible not to at least hear about him every once and a while. During graduation, I grimaced knowing that he was a few feet away with that million-dollar smile on his face. Never the matter, I put a smile on my face too and high-tailed it when the picture was over.

I moved back to the city I was born and raised, not too far from New York. I practiced as an associate for a while, but quickly climbed the ranks and made Junior Partner at the firm. I had mind blowing reviews and an amazing success rate that assured a job offer at whatever firm would have me. In fact, I worked so hard at my firm, that I reached the capacity of what they could pay me as a Junior Partner. I could either become Senior Partner or go somewhere else if I wanted to continue to grow my paycheck.

               And if I learned anything from Harvey Douchebag Specter, it’s that I should never settle. I set my eyes on the most successful firm in New York: Pearson Hardman. One over the phone interview and a quick glance at my numerous 5-star reviews, recommendations, and success rate-and I was welcomed to the Pearson Hardman family.

I rented an apartment not too far from the firm and began unpacking the few things I had. After paying off my student debt, I went on a spending spree, and I wound up with more than I could manage. After being knees deep in Dior, I had to offload some stuff. I packed everything I couldn’t part with and donated everything else to be distributed to a few women’s shelter. They couldn’t contain their excitement and now I’m a part of the state-wide organization. Funny enough how those things happen!

Either way, it was a fresh start, through and through. I had the bare necessities, and I was content. A shopping spree for some Ikea furniture was calling my name, though. The apartment was a literal husk up and would remain that way until I could find the time to go shopping.

Being in the city where I studied law and had some of the toughest years of my life made me emotional, but in the best way. Now I’m back, and at least 3 times as kick-ass as before.

Of course, since Harvard, I’d heard a comment or two about Harvey and what he’s been up to, but I tended to butt my head out, far away from his business. I’m sure he’s somewhere still in New York, I mean, he loved this city- but New York’s huge! There’s no way I’ll be seeing him anytime soon.

[johnnysuhbmarine]

Knowing a change of scenery was what your mental health needed, you transferred to where your brother, Mark, goes to college. The good news is, he’s not too cool for his younger sister, so he lets you join his friend group immediately. The bad news is, Haechan is in that friend group, and a brief encounter four years ago was enough for you to understand he does NOT like you. Even worse news, he’s a lot hotter than he was four years ago…

Chapter Sixteen: smol bear - six images, 1.9k words - heads up, this has about the same vibe as last chapter

As soon as you opened the door to Haechan, you were ready to fall into his embrace, already having worn yourself out from crying prior to his arrival.

However, what you’re met with is a pint of Ben & Jerry’s The Tonight Dough extended out for you to take, and you flick your gaze up to Haechan in question. “You had enough time to run to the store in the past five minutes?” You ask with a laugh of disbelief, wiping away at the stray tears running down your face, his presence alone enough to start calming you down a bit.

Haechan uses his hand that's not holding the ice cream to scratch at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “No, I just- I keep a pint of it in my freezer in case you’re ever over and...want some, and I figured you’d probably uh- want some now.”

That was all it took before sobs immediately wrack your body again and Haechan just sighs, moving slightly to place down the pint of ice cream before coming back to wrap you in a bear hug. You can hardly think to be embarrassed about your tears staining his shirt, but you knew he would have been adamant that it didn’t matter in the slightest.

Slowly, he brings a hand up to run over the back of your head and through your hair. “What’s that silly brain of yours up to?” He whispers, and you shake your head against his chest.

“Currently? Telling me that I don’t deserve you,” you answer, rendering Haechan still for a moment.

“I can assure you, that’s a lie,” he responds seriously. You let out a heavy sigh against his body before speaking again, trying to ignore how your voice was cracking.

“I don’t like myself very much right now,” you sniffle in his hold, and Haechan is baffled that you couldn’t hear his heart breaking in his chest, though he figures he should be grateful for that. He takes care in maneuvering the two of you so that he could rest his forehead against yours for a moment, his thumb now gliding softly across your cheek.

“Don’t worry. I like you enough for the both of us tonight,” he says gently, and your grip around him tightens as you hide your head back in his chest to try and stifle more sobs. He runs a hand up and down your back in the meantime. “Thank you for texting me,” he continues, and you shake your head against his chest.

“I needed you,” you manage to say through a whimper, forcing Haechan to take a deep breath before tears could end up sliding down his face, as well.

“I’m always gonna be here,” he responds, and you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being - you could feel it.

When the two of you finally broke from the hug, Haechan immediately turned your attention to various board games and movies. Eventually, this led to the two of you laying down on top of your, much more comfortable, couch; with you almost entirely on top of Haechan as his arms wrapped around you loosely.

You were half-way through his comfort movie (the two of you already rewatched The Aristocats while playing board games) when he softly spoke up for the first time since it started.

“You can talk to me about it, you know? I told you your heavy feelings aren’t gonna scare me away, and just taking your mind off of it isn’t going to work forever.” His head is still turned to face the TV as he spoke, and you know it’s an attempt to make it feel more casual - less threatening of a topic.

You hold your breath for a moment before letting out a light sigh, giving in. “You’re not gonna get it, though. I feel like no one gets it. Sure, meeting you guys has been the biggest blessing and my mental health is honestly miles ahead of where it was…though that’s probably hard to believe given the situation. But- you guys always want to hang out with me, and my SM friends did, too, but I don’t get it. Half the time I just want to lay in bed and do nothing, and it’s like you guys know that and purposely don’t let me. I don’t know why you guys don’t let me. I don’t want to eat or see the sunlight all the time. I'm doing better but sometimes I just want to be here, and everyone acts as though it's the end of the world.”

Haechan takes a sharp inhale as his hands cease rubbing circles across your back and you’re terrified you messed up telling him all of that, figuring it paints you as ungrateful for your friends - a classification that he himself fell under, and now you’re worried you upset him. Though, moving your head up to look at him, you catch as he licks his lips in contemplation before pulling his gaze away from the TV and towards you, raising his eyebrows as he asks a question. “Do you step on flowers when you see them blooming?”

You look at him quizzically as you respond with a faint, confused ‘no.’ Haechan lets the softest of smiles cross his face as he shakes his head to emphasize your negative response, continuing to his point as he does so.

“We all try our best to take care of beautiful things, y/n. And even if you don’t see how your actions, or lack thereof, equate to you not taking care of yourself, think about the five year old who tramples over flowers without realizing any harm was done…but the rest of us know. The rest of us grieve. So, we’re all just trying our best to take care of you - before your mental health starts affecting your physical health and you have to stay in bed all day. I mean, I take you out to lunch all the time and I know you don’t want to eat, I know. But what you don’t know is that you eat a little bit more off your plate every single time. So, I never stop inviting you out, cause when I take care of you, you take care of yourself, too. The same thing when Jeno and Jaemin go exploring with you. It’s a huge part of why you’re miles ahead of where you were mentally. You’ve gotten stronger, you just don’t know it. So yeah, we like hanging out with you all the time - cause every time we do, we see you healing, and it gives us the chance to take care of you and fill all the gaps in between.”

If the two of you were breathing once he got done talking, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. The only sound breaking the silence was from the movie. You and Haechan seemed instead to be frozen in time. You watch as he takes a moment to study your figure, opening and closing his mouth a few times, apparently not satisfied with leaving off how he did.

He dodges eye contact now as he begins his next spiel, but his words come out slower, even more decided, than they previously were. “And if it’s the ‘beautiful’ part you’re having a hard time wrapping your head around…well, I’d tell you to think of art museums. Not everyone gets it, but there’s a reason for every piece that’s on display. Someone’s found it beautiful…even those weird modern art pieces that no one seems to get because they’re just red squares half the time. But you? If you feel like a red square painted on a canvas, just know that I get it - it was never even a question. I know you’re beautiful,” he says, moving a hand to gently tuck a piece of hair behind your ear so he could make unobstructed eye contact with you.

You don’t say anything back in reply. You can’t. Instead, you lay your head back on his chest to face the TV, squeezing your eyes shut, though it doesn’t do anything to stop the small shakes of your body with each soft sob that picked back up at his words. Haechan never said anything else, just holding you tightly to him as he resumed tracing shapes over your back until you fell asleep in his arms.

When you woke up the next morning in bed, what you weren’t expecting was to walk out to the living area and see Haechan standing in the kitchen.

At the sound of your footsteps, he turns to face you with a smile. “Hey, do you want coffee?” He asks casually, as if it were his own place and you were the guest.

You can’t stop the small laugh from leaving your system. “What are you doing here?” You ask playfully, and Haechan just shrugs as if nothing were off.

“Well, you fell asleep on me last night, so I carried you to bed and tucked you in and all that cause I figured your bed is more comfortable, but I didn’t want to just- leave you…in case you woke back up and needed me. So, I slept on the couch; unless you think that's weird!! In which case, I went home last night after getting you to bed, then came back here about ten minutes ago to make you coffee...and your friendly poltergeist roommate let me in.” He states plainly, and a fond smile paints its way across your lips as you stare at his figure, currently turned away from you as he resumed his task of making coffee.

“Thank you,” you reply seriously, and Haechan figures it was for the best that he wasn’t facing you anymore because just your 'thanks' had sent blush across his cheeks.

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he answers, finally turning towards you again once the warmth in his cheeks dies down. “Do you wanna hang out today, too? Or are you about to kick me out of your kitchen?” He asks with a bashful smile and embarrassed laugh.

You shake your head and let your eyes roll playfully. “Well, you’re already here…we might as well hang out.”

Haechan lets a grin cross his face but he shakes his head at you. “Oh, no, I’m getting you out of here today; making you take a break from the confines of this place," he states with a lilt of seriousness.

You let out a sigh, though you knew arguing would be futile. “Well, I’m sorry to report that it’s a little early for lunch,” you joke, and Haechan rolls his eyes before answering with a cup of coffee extended out for you to take.

“I didn’t ask to go out for lunch, I asked to hang out. I’m ready for whatever it is you want to do, just let me know,” he says firmly, clinking your coffee mugs together in a mock 'cheers' before taking a sip through the stupid grin he currently bore on his face.

You roll your eyes in an attempt to negate the smile on your own lips. “Let me go get ready,” you say, but before you can take two steps back toward your bedroom, Haechan catches your wrist in his hand, forcing you to turn his way again in an instant.

“We have all day. Just stand in this kitchen and drink coffee with me for a bit first,” he pleads softly. That was all it took for you to move the mug up to your lips, laughing at the man in front of you who was now incredibly too invested in whether or not you liked your coffee.

[previous] -> [masterlist] -> [next]

a/n: sorry about this being posted slightly off schedule hours-wise…I was busy being thankful for my family (and I still don’t trust scheduled posts) but I’m also very thankful for all of you! I hope you enjoy this chapter and the holiday season :))

a/n (x2): you guys would not BELIEVE how long it takes for them to get together after this...

Taglist: @fullsunstrawberry @choizzn @raevyng @dudekiss3r @yewshi @artsenthusiastk77 @injunnie-lemon @markeroolee @chan-yeoldelling @sunflowerhae @mystverse @urlovelily @luvandletter @jeonghansshitester @dinonuguaegi @untilthesunrises @clean-soap @andassortedkpop @dlin3 @roseangelxfuma @gomdoleemyson @simmsunshine @swanyvess @awktwurtle @t-102 @kukkurookkoo @haefelt

@hahaechans @ypoom151999 @goldenclosethobi

[megumiluvv]

It’s Christmas. You’ve almost forgotten about it and rush next door to Choso’s apartment, Yuji’s gifts in hand. You carefully place them under the tree and start to grab your gift for Choso, yet pause to look at the tree.

The ornaments are so pretty and sweet. Mostly items that Yuji has handcrafted for school projects, but also some old ones of Choso’s. An old elementary photo of him catches your eye and you smile. His little kid face is so adorable, but the lack of tattoo across his nose is a little surprising at first. Maybe because you’re used to him with it.

Choso walks into the living room from his bedroom and smiles. “When’d you get here?”

“Just now, still have to bring your presents, so look away.” You smile as he starts to cook breakfast, the Christmas cookies you all decorated a few days ago still in a container sitting on the counter.

You return to your apartment and grab Choso’s gift, you hope he’ll like it. You hide the small box in your pocket and head back to the apartment next door. Choso’s cooking and Yuji’s still asleep, so you continue with the plan you and Choso made last night, grabbing Choso’s boots and a sieve and powdered sugar to make it seem like Santa had visited overnight.

The footsteps lead from the front door to the tree, then lead to the cookies and milk that were set out, then back to the door. Choso looks over and frowns a little.

“Still think the floor will be sticky when it’s time to clean.”

“Quit whining, Yuji has to believe it.”

“The snow would already be melted before he even reached our apartments, we’re under an awning.”

“He doesn’t know any better. He’s too young for practicality, okay?” You huff in exasperation.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” Choso sighs and sets the table. “Sukuna and Uraume should arrive soon.”

Just then, a knock comes to the door. Before either of you could answer, Sukuna opens the door, always walking in like he owns the place. He sees the “snow” and carefully avoids it, knowing better than to mess with Yuji’s image of Christmas.

“He’s still at that age?” He grumbles.

“Huh, speak of the devil and he may come.” Choso mutters to himself. You giggle and help Sukuna set the presents under the tree.

“Is it snowing out there?”

“Yeah, colder than Uraume’s freezer settings.” Sukuna grumbles once more.

“That’s an exaggeration.” Uraume rolls their eyes and sits on the couch beside Sukuna.

You go to wake Yuji and smile at the cute Christmas pajamas the boy is wearing. He clings to you, half-asleep as you carry him out of his room. The moment he sees the presents, his eyes widen, and he believes good Saint Nick stopped by even more when he sees the footprints you created.

“Santa came!” The boy shouts excitedly, hopping from your arms to the tree, looking back at Choso excitedly. “Can I open one? Pleaseeee?”

“Eat first, kiddo, then we can have presents.” You smile and help Yuji to his seat.

He hurriedly eats breakfast and sits at his favorite spot on the couch, trying to hide his excitement for the presents. You set his presents out in front of him, then do the same for the presents for Choso from Sukuna, saving yours for later.

“Woahhh! I got a Human Earthworm poster!” Yuji grins widely. “And spider-man stuff!”

“Damn kid and his spider-man.” Sukuna ruffles Yuji’s hair and smirks as the boy complains.

Choso looks at the present from Yuji, you can see his eyes watering at the little gift. You sit beside him and lean your head on his shoulder, looking at the handmade present. Yuji (with the help of you) made a photo album for Choso, a bunch of pictures from this year’s adventures, and a handwritten note from Yuji saying how Choso is “the best big brother ever in the history of the universe”.

“Yuji, this is so nice, thank you.” Choso barely contains his emotions as he hugs his little brother, much to Yuji’s protests.

You smile softly and stand. “Let’s go play in the snow, yeah?”

Yuji nods excitedly at that and puts his snow boots on. “Yeah!!”

After a long day in the snow and a snowball fight Choso loses, Sukuna and Uraume take their leave and Yuji sleeps in his bedroom. You and Choso clean the wrapping paper mess and the footprints of powdered sugar off the floor. You grab a fake mistletoe plant from the tree and grin to yourself.

“Choso, look up.” You hold the mistletoe over your head.

Choso smirks and places his hands on your waist. “You do understand what that means, right?”

“Mmmhm! That’s the whole point. Now don’t ignore the Christmas tradition, Choso Claus.” You giggle.

He presses his lips to yours and you wrap your arms around his neck, eyes closing and a contented hum escaping your throat. You both hold the kiss for a moment and when you pull away, you place your present in his hands. He opens it carefully and smiles at the locket in the box. Inside the locket is a photo of you and Yuji, you thought it was a little much, but Sukuna said he’d like it.

“…I really like this, thank you.”

Feeling accomplished (and very relieved), you smile and give him a chaste kiss. “Merry Christmas, Cho.”

“Merry Christmas indeed.”

Masterlist

Taglist (ask to join anytime): @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish

@meowsannie

@mediokerrv @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf

@mysteriaqueen @theirlgarfield

@jasminelee324 @t-candy

[after-witch]

Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One: The Last Day] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: Years ago, you were the captive of a serial killer named Strade. And you weren't the only one he kept. After Strade was killed by one of his victims, you ran away--and now your past is finally catching up with you. Chapter one is set during Boyfriend to Death.

Word count: 6352

Chapter notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, past noncon, graphic violence, descriptions of blood, violence and gore, descriptions of death (not reader)

AO3 LINK

She was crying again. Well, no wonder. There were holes in her feet, dotting the top of her thighs. Blood had dribbled down from the gored holes in her flesh like little streams, then dried out. 

The thin, wavy dried out trickles made you think, abruptly, of unfettered period blood, then of Carrie by Stephen King. The scene in the shower, where she gets her period and freaks out. The other girls threw tampons and sticky pads at her and shrieked, chanting, bonded by a morbid commiseration of the entrance to so-called womanhood: Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!

Plug it up, you thought.

But she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Her hands were bound behind her. Did he tie them back like that so that she couldn’t try to hurt him, or because it gave him easier access to her flesh? Maybe a bit of both.

She looked uglier when she cried. Snot bubbled out of her nose and joined a dried streak of blood that went from her nose down to her chin. Her nose was probably broken, hence the blood; the flesh of it was black and blue and an awful shade of green.

One part of you longed to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer and hold it to the bruised, swollen flesh. Hush her cries. Give her an ounce of humanity that might carry her for another few hours, the way Ren once did to you. 

Another part of you, the new you forged under Strade’s knife (and boots and hammers and power drill) wished she’d just die already, so you wouldn’t have to hear her cry or be standing here obediently, waiting for Strade to come back down. You were probably going to have to participate in this next stream–why else would he call you down in the middle of one of his “projects”? 

Unless he was lonely. But even so, he could always kill two birds with one stone. You, here to give him company; and you, here to entertain his horrid audience. And himself, above all. Himself, always.

 The basement door at the top of the stairs creaked open and you heard his heavy bootsteps–thump, thump, thump–before he called out jovially.

“Are you still there, Liebling? You didn’t run off, did you?” 

As if you were stupid enough to do that. You were many things now. Stressed. Afraid. Desperate. Tired. More selfish. Maybe a little bit masochistic, a trick of your brain to keep you from totally losing your mind as you were tortured. All these things and more besides, but stupid was not one of them. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back, lightening your tone. It was important not to sound too scared. Strade wanted you scared, yes, but he didn’t want you to be some obedient, squeaky little mouse. That was too boring. It was best to act as normally as you could, considering the circumstances. That seemed to please him more, at least on most days. Some days nothing you did was right and you went to bed with a swollen eye and broken fingers, eased by frozen peas that Ren snuck you from the kitchen before he went to sleep. 

You’re not the only one who noticed him coming down. The woman in front of you began to tremble and sob more violently, pulling at her bound wrists. It wouldn’t do any good. It never did. How long did she have to live? How long did any of you in this house have to live? 

By the time Strade made it down the stairs, her cries were practically at a fever-pitch. You didn’t want to look to see what he’d run off to fetch, but he didn’t give you a choice.

He called your name. “Come here, darling, I need your help with this.” And oh, you kept your eyes downcast until all you could see was his boots. But then it was time to look up, and you did, and no matter how many times you witnessed him preparing to torture another person, it still made your stomach roil.

He’d brought down a p[ot of boiling water, which he carefully held by the handle with both hands. Tucked underneath his armpit was the bag of frozen peas. The bag, you thought, because for as long as you’d been here, no one ever cooked them. They got passed around between you and Ren under cover of night.

Here they were, in the light of day. You suspect you wouldn’t want to re-use them after this. 

“Be my Lamm and take the peas, won’t you?” The sensible part of you eyed him warily; it wouldn’t be below him to toss the pot of boiling water at you while you reached for them, just to fuck with you. But you didn’t disobey him, either. You carefully leaned over and slid the bag from underneath his armpit, and held it in your hand.

He smiled. Grinned, really, which was a bad sign for the sobbing woman tied to the pole. His good moods and bad moods were both equally shitty, but in your unfortunately well-experienced opinion, it was his good moods that produced the most painful scenarios.

“Now!” He crouched down in front of the crying woman and grabbed her chin. She shrieked and tried to jerk her face away, but he held her tight. “I’m sure your wounds are sore, aren’t they?” She sobbed out something–meaningless pleading that you’d long since lost the ability to discern–and he tsked.

“Oh, poor thing. I know just what might help!” He snapped his fingers and looked back at you. “My lovely friend here will give you some ice to help you feel better. Won’t you?” He grinned wider and you nodded, feeling both scared and numb in a confusingly equal measure, as you crouched down next to him.

She yelped when you placed the frozen bag on a group of puncture wounds on her thigh, but you held it fast. It probably hurt more than it soothed. An icy bag right up against wounded skin didn’t sound pleasant. But maybe it would numb it a little. That might be better than nothing. 

“Perfect! Now…” He reached over and picked up the steaming pot of water, still bubbling from its boil on the stove. “Hold still, my Lamm… wouldn’t want to splash you.” 

It was so strange, the way that your time with Strade had made it possible for you to actually keep your hand there, despite the fact that you knew he was about to pour boiling water on the skin of this poor woman. Pour it right where it would surely splash on you a little, if not a lot. Probably a lot. Two birds, one stone, and all that.

It didn’t matter if it was strange. Your fingers flexed and your muscles tensed as you saw him turn the pot over slowly, and steaming water came flying down, pouring over the woman’s wounds.

She screamed. It was loud. It hurt your ears. The irritation of it distracted you from seeing Strade move the pot around so that the water trailed over the frozen peas–and your hand keeping it pressed against her–as he covered her thigh in the water.

“Fuck!” You said, biting your cheek hard. Your fingers danced on the bag but you didn’t dare pull away. You could see your own skin turning a shade of red. Her thighs had taken the brunt of it, though. There were even blisters forming on her skin already as she sobbed and cried and begged for someone, anyone, to help her.

You were someone.  You were anyone.

You couldn’t help her.

“Language, liebchen,” Strade said, teasingly. You mumbled out an apology, although you doubt he actually cared. 

He sighed when the pot was emptied, and tossed it on the floor.

“I don’t know… I just don’t think it’s enough. Do you?” He grasped your burned hand and you couldn’t stifle the sound of yelping pain as he gripped it hard. Your skin would blister too–it was already peeling a little. 

“What…whatever you think is best,” you stammered. 

“That’s right,” he said, grinning. He gave your hand a squeeze and you groaned. “I think I’ll work a little more on this project myself before dinner.” He let your fingers go, and you cradled your hand against your chest. “Have Ren take care of that. Come back down when it’s wrapped up.” his free hand grabbed the chin of the sobbing, bleeding, blistered woman again. “I think we’ll make a movie, and I need my prettiest co-star to help me out.”

“Of course.” You gave her one half-pitiful glance–the way her frightened, bloodshot eyes darted to you with a mixture of anger and pity made you want to hurl–and went up the stairs.

By the time you’d made it to the top, you already heard Strade pulling out his video equipment.

—

“It… doesn’t look too bad,” Ren said quietly. He held your hand underneath the sink, letting the cold water soothe your burn. But every time your hand trembled and the stream went just out of reach, it burned again, and you winced.

“Most of it hit her thigh,” you whispered. Though you didn’t need to, since both of you were well aware that Strade was busy in the basement. Old habits die hard, however. “She got it worse.”

Ren hummed. “They usually do.” He told you to keep your hand in place while he fumbled in the cabinet under the sink, looking for supplies. “I don’t know if he has–oh!” His ears twitched and perked up as he found what he’d been looking for.

It was a tube of burn relief ointment. He flipped it over and read the back, mumbling all the while. “It’s expired but…”

You smiled, just a little, and finished his sentence for him.

“Better than nothing, right?”

Ren smiled, and you caught sight of his tail curling behind him as he turned off the sink and told you to sit down on the toilet so she could wrap you up.

Was it wrong that some of the most pleasant moments in this house, if you could call them pleasant, were with Ren? Especially quiet moments like this, where he took care of you, or you took care of him. You were both well acquainted with fixing up the results of your time with Strade by now. 

He’d cleaned out deep cuts on your back, and you’d iced and splinted his broken toes. He let you curl up in his nest of a bed after a particularly awful night of torture, and you let him slide under your covers when he’d had an nightmare about the last time Strade made him kill someone.

It was transactional in some ways, you supposed. But when you saw his ears perk up or his tail swoosh or the way his eyes seemed to light with something genuine behind them while you talked with him, you realized it wasn’t all practical. It couldn’t be. Not when you were in this together.

Ren made quick work of bandaging your hand. The cream was smoothed over the reddened, flaking parts of your skin and he wrapped your hand up with a bandage. It hurt, still, but nothing to write home about. Hah! As if you’d ever be allowed to write home.

Hell, if by some miracle  you could write home, how would you even word the letter? 

“Dear mom and dad, last night my captor-who-also-fucks me made me keep my hand on a table while he hammered nails underneath my fingernails and asked me which one hurt the most. P.S. The milk in the fridge is expired and he’s threatening to make me or Ren drink it because of the waste.”

The thought made you snort. Ren looked up from his spot on the floor, where he’d taken to impromptu digging through the cabinet to look for some undisclosed item. 

“What’s funny?”

You mulled it over. Sometimes, you didn’t like to tell Ren what you were thinking. You trusted him, to an extent. You liked him, to an extent. You were friends, to an extent. How far did that extent go? It depended. 

He was here first, and sometimes, the tension between the two of you was too taut and fraught to ignore. There was always that underlying worry, an electric buzz you couldn’t turn off all the way: what if Strade decided he didn’t want two captives? Or what if he felt two was his limit, and he wanted to bring someone new in?

Which one of you would get the ax–literally?

But this was maybe not the type of thing that Ren might murmur to Strade in a moment of weakness. It was harmless, wasn’t it, to make a joke about writing home?

“I was just imagining what I might write home in a letter to my parents.” You flexed your bandaged hand. “I mean, if we were allowed to write home.”

“Like from a summer camp?” Ren asked. He pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. 

“I guess,” you replied, smiling a little. “Although this would be one…” Fucked up, disgusting, hellish– “Specialty summer camp.”

Ren snorted a little. “Definitely not like the ones in movies.”

“Maybe horror movies,” you added with a grin. One of your front teeth–not from the center two, thank hell–was missing now, so you rarely grinned. But it felt different when it was just you and Ren alone. It was okay to let him see those imperfections, because he had them too. Maybe not missing teeth, but…

“Sleepaway Camp!” He blurted. “Or Friday the 13th…” 

You started to open your mouth, ready to tell him that you once saw a screening of the first Friday the 13th at a summer camp, when an all-too-familiar sound came wafting up from the cracked open basement door.

“Liebling! It doesn’t take that long to bandage a little burn! I hope I don't have to come get you.”

Ren’s tail went straight up at the sound of Strade’s voice. The sing-song nature of his words did not hide the danger in them. If you had a tail, yours would be standing stock straight too. But your body had to make do with your muscles tensing and your bowels clenching hard.

“I have to go,” you murmured, hopping off the toilet seat. 

You paused in the doorway. Ren had his knees hugged to his chest, his ears flat against his head. No doubt he was wondering if Strade would call him down, too. Or if he’d be pissed off about something and take it out on Ren later.

“Thanks for patching me up, Ren.” His ears twitched, and he glanced up at you. “Really, I mean it.” You smiled–grinned, showing off one of your missing teeth. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

His tail relaxed a little and he smiled back, an almost puppy-like grin crossing his expression for a moment, and it was enough to give you some vague emotional relief as you left the bathroom before Strade was forced to come up the stairs and retrieve you. 

–

She wouldn’t last another day. That much was clear. Her blood was everywhere now. On the floor. Smeared on her skin. On Strade’s hands–on yours.

Of course he’d made you participate. You were his lovely assistant, after all. Although he always said Ren was better at the work, when it came down to it. You were too prone to trembling and hesitation. To say nothing of your occasional habit of vomiting at the sight of anything more than blood–guts, in particular, were your weakness. 

Hers, too, by the way she quivered at the sight of the large hunting knife Strade twirled in his hands.

“I think this has gone on long enough. Don’t you, Schatz?” He looked back at you with a thoughtful smile. “Shall we end it?”

Without thinking much, you nodded. Yes, it had gone on long enough. Yes, you wanted her to just die already. Yes, you wanted to go over to the sink and scrub your hands until they were pruney and wrinkled and there was no trace of her visceral fluids on your skin.

“Go on,” he told you, gesturing at the trembling woman. Covered in cuts and gouges and burns. Where there had been dried blood earlier today, there were now smears of fresh gore. From Strade’s boots and the knife. Strade had even taken a blow torch to the burns caused by the boiling water, making them go from peeling and red to a series of gouged, pus-like craters in her flesh.

Cold seeped into your socks from the floor as you walked over to her. She regarded you with dull, dying eyes. She opened her mouth, maybe to say something, but whatever word she might have come up with wouldn’t come. Her swollen, bruised lip trembled as blood dribbled out of it. 

One of the handcuff keys was taped to the back of the poll. Strade always liked to keep extras around, in case he lost the original but still wanted to uncuff someone. He usually didn’t uncuff people unless they were being bound in some other way (usually not a good sign) or he was just about finished with them (definitely a bad sign); and in this case, you knew she was being released only to make killing her a little more fun.

Her hands flopped forward as soon as the cuffs were undone. There was a brief moment where you saw her regard her wrists, all reddened and cut from where the metal handcuffs dug into them. 

But the moment was over as soon as Strade stepped forward and pulled her close with a decisive yank of her hair. She yelped–you were surprised she had the yelp in her, her voice should have been shot from all the screaming–and he twisted her hair tight to keep her still.

“It’s been fun, but it’s time to go now. Don’t take this personally, hm? Or do, actually, it might make you feel better.”

She didn’t have time to respond. He rarely wanted them to say anything, you thought. It was just part of his internal script, a set of syllables that gave him extra pleasure as he snuffed out someone’s internal light. 

He stuck the hunting knife into her gut and twisted. She didn’t scream. She barely shouted. The sound, instead, was one of strangled horror. Like she couldn’t believe what was happening to her. He twisted again, and she grunted and gasped, a sound that was almost like a deep, gaping hiccup.

“Shh,” he murmured, a sick grin splitting his face. His eyes darted over her face, and you got a front-row view of how his expression was gleefully illuminated by the sight of her own life fading away. He enjoyed it so much, he even let go of the knife handle so that he could grasp her face with both hands and keep her dying gaze in his sights.

Who was she? What had she been, before the basement? Was she thinking about her friends, her family? Did she have children that were going to be left behind? Maybe she was in college, maybe she’d been studying for exams that would never happen. There would be uneaten prepared lunches in her fridge, a bookmark that would never move past a certain page. 

Her hands went tremblingly to the handle of the knife sticking out of her. She held the handle tenderly with bruised, bloody hands. Didn’t Strade see it? No, he was too focused on her face. But he didn’t even see the way her expression shifted. 

No, he saw it. But maybe he didn’t know what it meant, because he’d never been on the other end. The way she went from looking confused and horrified to determined. 

She didn’t act right away. 

You could have said something. You could have called out a warning. 

But instead you watched as the dying woman yanked the knife out of her gut, viscera and blood coming out with it, and stabbed it right into Strade’s neck.

He gasped now. A gaping, strangled sound. His hands went instinctively to his neck and it took him a few slow, trembling tries to pull it out. You saw the blood arch and spurt–an artery–and he fell to his knees.

The woman stepped away with what must have been her last ounce of energy. She had only enough life left in her to turn to you and smile–she was missing teeth, too–before she collapsed on the ground. She was still alive, but her shock would come soon after.

It wasn’t her you were watching, anyway. It was Strade.

His eyes darted to and fro until they landed on you. He had his hand pressed against the wound now, but it wasn’t doing much good. He would need a proper compress… an ambulance… surgery of some kind. 

You don’t know why you called him. To help Strade? To help you? 

“Ren.”

Not loud enough.

“Ren.”

Still not loud enough.

“Ren!” 

Before you knew it,  you were simply screaming his name, filling the basement with a different pitch of scream than it was used to. Your own voice was barely recognizable.

The basement door slammed open and you heard frantic footsteps pounding down the stairs. You saw Ren, only a blur of orange in your shock, take in the scene. His own mouth slowly gaped open, but unlike Strade and the unfortunate woman on the floor and your own panting lips, no sound came out.

Ren said your name. You think it was Ren, because Strade was surely in no position to talk. It shook you out of your stupor and you ran to him, clinging to his arm, crying fitfully. He wrapped one arm around you and the two of you stood, together, watching Strade bleed.

“What do we do?” The inside of your elbow pressed hard against Ren’s back as you held him. You wanted to snuggle, like the way you did on good nights. You wanted him to make it all go away. 

Maybe he sensed this. Because while the two of you had clung together in so many occasions, this time, he stood up taller. He held you tighter. And then he assessed the situation.

Ren watched Strade quietly for a long moment. Strade gazed up at him–at you, too, but mostly Ren–with wide-eyed helplessness. The look didn’t suit him at all. He seemed to know it. 

“Help me,” Strade managed. It almost didn’t feel like speech. Maybe the knife had grazed his vocal chords. 

Neither of you moved at first. There was a long moment in which either of you could have sprung into action; could have ran to the supply cabinet and grabbed thick gauze to press against the wound, while the other could have bounded up the stairs to call an ambulance.

But you didn’t. And Ren didn’t. 

And then Ren looked at you, and took a step backward. He pulled you with him, and you went willingly, taking another step, and another, until the two of you were standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“You…” Strade gurgled out the word, and blood came bubbling out in between the fingers pressed against his neck with it. “You…”

He didn’t get to finish. His eyes widened and you saw the light leave them before he collapsed on the floor. 

For the first time since you’d been brought here, the basement was truly silent. 

Strade was dead.

Neither of you moved for a while. And then you felt a hoarse sob coming on. Relief, terror, and shock coursed through you, fighting for the surface in a way that could only result in tears. 

Ren regarded you with an unreadable expression and slowly removed his arm from your shoulder. You whimpered–don’t leave me, you wanted to say–and he smiled, a soft, little thing. 

“Don’t worry. I’m just going to make sure he’s dead.”

Oh. That was a good idea. But what if he wasn’t? What if Strade got to his feet and oh, the two of you would be in for it. He’d probably kill both of you–or at least you–and it would be slow and awful and you’d beg, beg, for death.

“Ren,” you said, almost stammering, swallowing a thick lump in your throat.

He turned back towards you, curious.

You pointed to the table of tools at Strade’s disposal. “Take something. Just in case.”

Ren stared at the weapons that had been used to kill countless people. At the blades and torches and nails that had been used to hurt him, and you. Then he grabbed a heavy hammer and slowly approached the bleeding corpse (please let it be a corpse) of Strade.

Strade didn’t move as Ren approached him. Or when Ren knelt down, hammer at the ready. Or when Ren’s fingers slowly reached out and pressed against his neck, his wrist. 

“No pulse,” said Ren.

Ren set the hammer down and used both hands to shove Strade’s body until it was fully on his back. His eyes, dull and dead, stared up at the ceiling without seeing anything.

He was dead. Truly dead. 

Really most sincerely dead, your thoughts echoed in a half-mimic of the Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.

You barely registered Ren digging around in Strade’s pocket before he returned to you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to lead you upstairs.

“Let’s not stay down here,” he said. He gave Strade’s corpse one last look before staring ahead at the basement door. How many times had the two of you gone up and down these stairs at Strade’s whim? It always meant you would get hurt, or you would help Strade hurt others. It was never willing, going up these stairs. Never a choice.

And now the two of you were going up them together, Ren leading you, of your own free will.

Free will! What a concept. One you thought you’d lost forever. And yet here it is, given by the hands of a woman whose last days were filled with unnecessary, unfair agony. You wish you knew her name, so you could thank her properly.

Ren shut the basement door. It sounded louder than it ever had before. Or was it because the house was so quiet now? 

“Come here,” Ren said. And you didn’t know why he said it–shock, confusion, uncertainty still reigned–until you saw what was in his hand. 

His collar. It was… off. But how and–

Ren held up the key he’d taken from Strade’s pocket and shook it back and forth, like a well-earned prize. That’s what it was, in some ways. 

You stepped towards Ren and turned around, breathing heavily at the thought of being truly free from the collar. Strade only took them off the pair of you when you were showering and, once you had learned to behave well enough, when you slept. But they always went back on first thing in the morning, and their threat was an ever-constant presence in your mind, just like the metal was ever-constant around your neck.

Ren’s fingers brushed the back of your shoulder. You heard him breathing just as heavily. For a moment, he didn’t do anything. Wasn’t he going to…?

“Ren?” You asked, voice quivering. The air felt suddenly too heavy, your collar weighing you down more than normal. There was an awful thought, then: What if he doesn’t take your collar off? What if Ren is… what if, what if…

But then you felt the pressure from him sticking the key into the back of the metal contraption, heard it twist, and felt cool relief on your neck as Ren lifted the collar away from your neck and set it down on the coffee table. 

Both hands went to your neck. The skin was sensitive, bruised. A few days ago, Strade had come into your room at night for a session of “fun,” which ended with you being choked into unconsciousness. You’d woken up to Ren splashing cold water on your face. “Thought I’d lost you,” he’d said. 

The bruises Strade gave you would fade away in time. At least the ones on the outside.

And Ren…

You turned around and gave him a fractured smile. You leaned in, and Ren leaned in, and you hugged each other tenderly. Not just because it was the nicest way to hug, but because Ren’s rib fracture was still healing, and your back hurt, and both of you were littered with scars and cuts and bumps and bruises.

After a while, Ren pulled away. “Let’s… sit down.” 

He sat down on the sofa, which was dotted with sprinkles of Ren’s orange fur; no matter how much you lint-rolled the furniture, you could never quite get all of it out. 

Well, that didn’t matter now. You’d never have to clean up this living room, or the kitchen, or the brain matter and blood stains in the basement, again. You could go home.

And Ren could go home. 

And the nightmare would be over.

For now, you sat, side by side, on a sofa that had never seemed more ordinary. The house had never seemed more ordinary. Its secrets were primarily down in the basement. The rest of the house was bland and boring by comparison. Unless you counted upstairs, as it was not unheard of for Strade to take his particular brand of “fun” into your respective rooms. 

And now? It was quiet. Still. There was no chance that Strade would come walking up the stairs. No chance that you’d be called down them to torture someone.

Certainly no chance that he’d call both of you down, which never ended well. He liked to see Ren hurt you, because it seemed to hurt Ren. But sometimes, sometimes, you thought… there was a glimmer of something in Ren’s eyes in those moments. 

Something that reminded you too much of pleasure to ignore. Just a spark of it, but that was enough, when you were bound to a table and he was clawing open your thighs at Strade’s behest.

“Ren?” You forced yourself to stop thinking like that. That was the past. This was now. No, more than that: this was the future. A future without Strade, without this house, without pain. 

Ren looked over at you, slowly. The realization of what had just happened, and what it meant, seemed to be catching up to him, too. “... Yeah?”

Your fingers scratched at some of Ren’s stray fur on the couch. Some of the orange fur had already started clinging to your bandage. 

“What do we do now?” A simple question for you to ask. Several plans rushed through your head but it was hard to make sense of them. What was the best course to take; which authorities did you appeal to, when there was a dead serial killer and one of his victims in the basement, but your hands were on the torture tools, yet the same tools had been used to hurt you? 

You swallowed hard, shaking your head, willing the dizzying thoughts to quiet down.  “Do we call the police first? Or… an ambulance? Or–or–” 

Ren gripped the hand that idly scratched the couch. He intertwined his fingers in yours, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were wide. And just a bit wild.

“We could stay here.”

Your heart thudded. Once, twice. A third time.

“What?” You shifted on the couch, facing Ren more clearly. “We… we can’t, it’s–”

Ren squeezed your hand, a little too hard–the burn–and you winced. He didn’t let up, but he didn’t know you were hurting, did he? It was all just a rush right now, confusing, scary.

“We can,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. His mouth broke into an almost childish grin as he continued. “Strade’s got a lot of money, we can use that to keep up the bills. Buy whatever we want. We won’t have to worry about anything!” His tail swished behind him, thumping into your side. 

When you didn’t respond–words weren’t coming–his grin deflated a little. “I’m… I’m a good roommate,” he said, ears flattening. “I’ll take care of you.” He squeezed even tighter now. “We’ll do everything together, and we don’t have to worry about Strade getting mad about it. We’ll watch movies or-or play games or whatever you want.” He swallowed and you watched his throat bob. “And I promise I won’t leave fur everywhere.”

“Ren–” It was your turn to give his hand a squeeze, and you took his other in your free hand and clasped them both. “I’m not worried about your fur.”

His ears perked up and his smile came back.

“It’s… we can’t stay here,” you said, voice wobbling but gaining more firmness as you went on. “We need to leave. We need to call the police.”

Ren’s ears twitched. He looked thoughtful, opening his mouth, and shutting it. He was just confused, that’s all. Like you were. He needed to be reminded that if Strade was gone, the both of you were free. You’d go home, and he’d go home, and you could call or text or email or something but…

“Don’t be stupid.” 

The firmness in Ren’s voice shook you a little. More than that, it made you worry. He frowned at the sight of your tense shoulders, the quirk in your mouth. “Think about it,” he said, gently saying your name. “Remember all the people who watch his videos? Don’t you know who’s in those chats?”

The reminder of the chatrooms came hurtling straight into your guts. The chat… the people there paid money to watch people suffer. Watch them die. How many times had they encouraged Strade to indulge in some fucked up torture? Hell, they’d asked him countless times to string you up, cut you open, pull out your guts while you were still alive. Strade had danced away the requests with a teasing lilt, but the threat was never gone.

Ren let go of your bandaged hand and gently cupped your cheek. He spoke slowly, almost sweetly. “They’re rich. Important. Mayors. Politicians. Doctors. Police.” 

The anguish your stomach began to stretch. Ren didn’t stop talking.

“They know both our faces. Do you know what they’ll do to us, if they find us?” 

Tears pricked, unwanted and unbidden, at your eyes. He was right. You couldn’t go to the police. You couldn’t go to the media. This could never get out. But that didn’t mean you had to stay here. More than that: you couldn’t stay here. 

It would be another type of collar, to find yourself stuck here with Ren. And the collar might not be electric, but it would be just as dangerous. 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “No police.”

Ren grinned hopefully.

“But,” you continued. “We can’t stay here. I want to go home. And you–you get to go home now, too.” Ren had never talked much about his life before Strade, but surely he had friends. A family. An apartment or a house. A life. Just like you. 

“You want to leave–” His voice was thin and there was a fissure in it, ready to crack.

The hand on your cheek pressed harder, and you felt the thin press of his claws against your skin. Your eyes must have widened or perhaps you flinched, you don’t know, but Ren saw–and yanked away.

“S-Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He was upset, he was scared, hell, you didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry or start belting out show tunes right now. 

Freedom was confusing as hell. 

“I know,” you said, slowly. “It’s okay.”

Ren stared down at the ground. Then he stood up and fished Strade’s keyring out of his pocket and set it down on the coffee table with a jingling rattle. 

“I’m going to get us some water. And maybe a snack. We’ll… we’ll talk about this more. We can talk about it, and not make a decision right away. Okay?” He fumbled with both his hands in front of him, looking like the meek young man you’d met that first night, when he cleaned your wounds and gave you water to drink. 

You stared at him, perhaps for too long.

“Okay, Ren, we’ll talk about it,” you lied. 

You watched him walk into the kitchen, where Strade would never saunter in for a case of beer again. You heard him open the cabinet for an empty glass, none of which would ever again find themselves dashed into tiny shards that could be ground into your skin for fun. 

And then you leaned forward, grabbed the keyring off the countertop, pulled out the key to the front door, and softly padded your way to the threshold that neither of you had been able to cross in ages.

Your heart thudded. Your stomach heaved. But you unlocked the door and bolted, socked feet aching on the concrete sidewalk.

Ren said your name after the third step you took beyond the door of Strade’s house of horrors.

You could have kept running. Maybe you should have.

But instead, you turned around, to look at Ren standing in the doorway. There were no glasses of water in his hand–you don’t remember registering the sound of the sink at all, in fact. It was just Ren, with his hands at his sides, looking at you with an expression that was equally pitiful, agonizing, and worrying.

He said your name again.

You felt hot tears squeeze out of your eyes as you shook your head, turned around, and ran for your life.

[hughjackmansbicep]

Delicate

a/n: hi friends!!!! im hoping to make this into a multi part series, got lots planned for this mini fic :))))) this is kind of the prolouge to the real deal, needed to get the setup for it started before we divulge. expect lots of twists n turns my friends!

Pairing: Logan Howlett X F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: uhhhhh none lol

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: The government has successfully began the eradication of all mutant species in the United States. Lucky for you your dad has taken careful precautions to protect you from the evil that lurks in the streets outside. Tucked away in a concealed basement you sat and rotted away clinging to your old life and dreams. What happens when one day you've got a severe hankering for some ice cream and he ran out of beer the same night? Both finding yourselves in the right place at the right time.

The world as you knew it was slowly coming to an end. Mutants everywhere were dropping like flies after the government slowly started poisoning everyone's food. Unless you were an off-grid loner living off the land, you succumbed to the same fate as everyone else, 6 feet under. Lucky enough for you, your father kept you pretty sheltered. Tucked away in your fully renovated basement, the world is ignorant of your existence. It was safer this way; I mean, sure, you missed going out to bars and seeing your friends; hell, you even missed those 8 a.m. bio classes you used to take. But this was safer; at least that's what your father always preached. “It’s safer down here, away from all those evil people.” He'd remind you every day, “You're to never leave my site, kiddo, and never step outside those doors.” Not like you could anyways, while your mutation allowed you to control the atoms around you and morph them into anything your heart desired, you had one weakness, adamantium. Your house was coated in it; every doorknob, lock, and even the goddamn windows were coated in the shit. 

It was 3:00am, no one was home, and you found yourself craving ice cream. It wasn't uncommon for your dad to leave you to your own vices. He still had a job he'd have to attend to, and that more often than not led you to solidarity on his trips. And here you were in the middle of the night, the light from the fridge illuminating the dimly lit kitchen, tearing your freezer apart hoping to magically find a pint of Ben and Jerry’s buried deep in the frost. You groan, sinking down to your knees, met with disappointment and an ever-growing craving for the sweet, delicious taste of The Tonight Dough. Sure, you could've totally put in an Uber Eats order, but where would the fun in that be? You stood in front of the adamantium-cladded door, using all your strength to melt it to the ground, but to no avail. The only thing between you and your Jimmy Fallon-adorned ice cream was some space metal, and to hell if your dad really thinks that's going to curve the urge.

For the next hour, you ran around the house like a lunatic looking for a weak point. Maybe your father missed just one spot—one tiny spot in this prison he calls a home. A small hole fit for the size of a mouse teased you. Sure, you control all the atoms around you but your own? You'd never even attempted to entertain that idea, although the worst that could happen is you turn your body into a permanent pile of slop. That didn't sound too terrible when compared to being a basement dweller for the last 7 years. And it turns out it wasn't as bad as you'd thought; you melted your body down into a pile of liquid, slithering your way through the walls of your house before you were spit out from a hole in the bricks. The air on your skin cascaded goosebumps along your body; you honestly couldn't remember the last time you felt wind grace your skin or the sun illuminating off your shoulders. 

You skipped happily toward the corner store, taking in every sound around you. The sound your feet made when they hit the pavement, the distant chatter of the locals crowding down the sidewalks, even the obnoxious sound of a car horn brought a smile to your face. You finally understood the saying, ‘the city that never sleeps.’ You reached the corner store, swinging the door open and prancing inside as if it were Disney World. Your happy fantasy faded as the man behind the register yelled at you to put some shoes on before walking into his store. You looked down, wiggling your free toes, with all the excitement of liquifying yourself to get a taste of the outside world, common societal rules had slipped your mind. “I um.. Just came to grab a pint of ice cream; I’ll be really quick, I promise.” You pleaded sheepishly, offering him a quick smile to butter him up a bit. He simply rolled his eyes in disgust and turned his back to you, mumbling something under his breath.

You made your way around the convenience store towards the dairy section when something, or rather someone, caught your attention. He looked tall, and even with a leather jacket on, you could tell he was huge. He had some silly-looking facial hair and even sillier-looking cat-ear-like hair, but man, he still looked good. Your eyes slowly traveled down his arms to his pants. Cute butt, you thought to yourself. He stifled a laugh before turning in your direction and saying, “Thank you.” He grumbled, turning back towards the beer cooler. “What?” You ask, heat rising to your cheeks once you realize you'd accidentally said that out loud. He didn't acknowledge you, just went back to scanning the cooler. You took that as a hint to keep moving, finally landing in front of the ice cream section and grabbing the last pint of your favorite ice cream. Carefully looking around to make sure nobody was watching you, you pulled the lid off and used your mutation to pull out all the atoms belonging to the anti-mutant poisons that were mixed in with the delicious sweet treat. Floating above the ice cream, you cautiously manipulated them into a different container of food and made your way back towards the front. What you didn't know was that the unfortunate corner store owner had been watching your freak act on the CCTV cameras the whole time.

Turning around one of the aisles, you had spotted two men in suits talking to the man upfront. You couldn't make out what was being said as they whispered, but watching him point to you using your mutation on the TV screen explained enough to you. You backed up slowly, trying to even your breaths out before you had a panic attack. You felt someone grab your shoulder, spinning you around into them. It was Mr. Cute Butt; he must be working with those suited men too. Your eyes go wide as you focus all your energy on him. You were attempting to melt him, freeing yourself from his grasp, but it wasn't working for some reason. He just stared at your brows laced together, trying to figure out what in the fuck were you doing. “You're going to shit yourself if you keep straining like that.” He whispered a low chuckle, following after.

You froze, looking up at the man with pleading eyes. “Please don't hurt me; I just wanted some ice cream. Please i'll leave right now, sir.” You rushed out searching his face for sympathy or remorse something in hopes he'd release his grasp on you. He looked confused at what you were saying to him as if you were speaking some foreign language, but that didn't last long once you two heard footsteps approaching you. “C’mon kid.” He grumbled out, dragging you by your arm, ducking in between the small isles towards the exit. “They're over here!” The man upfront yelled, and the mystery man beside you just groaned before scooping you up into his arms and rushing you out of the store. You both quickly fell into the crowd, blending into the sea of people that populated the streets of New York. As soon as you two were outside, he'd set you on your feet, his arm still gripping your wrist, dragging you through the city with him.

“I need to go home, sir; please don't hurt me. I'm so sorry.” You cried, tears adorning your cheeks as you pleaded with him; if your father knew what was transpiring at this very moment, you'd be toast. Absolutely never allowed outside your basement ever again; you could kiss the sun goodbye because you'll probably never see it again once he gets home. He ignored your pleas though as he pushed through the crowds to a parked motorcycle on the road. “Oh no, I am not getting on that thing.” You halted your movements, digging your heels into the ground. “Suit yourself, sweet cheeks.” He laughed at you dryly hopping onto the bike, “They'll find you eventually.” He kicked the stand up, revving the bike on. You looked through the crowd behind you, worry etching onto your face. Maybe he's right; maybe I should hop on that bike and ride it into the sunset with this beautiful specimen, or he's no better than those suited men and could ultimately be leading me to my death. “Just get on the fucking bike.” He growled at the sound of sirens roaring closer to you two.

Begrudgingly, you hopped onto the back of the bike, plopping the helmet latched behind you on your head. At this rate, your sure your dad is going to skin you alive and hang you up to dry. “Hang on tight, princess.” He turned around to smirk at you. You snaked your hands around his torso, and he took off, the force causing your face to smash into his back and your grip on him tightening. You were sure if you had been gifted some form of super strength, you would've popped his torso clean off his legs with how tight you were squeezing him. You attempted to give him directions back to your house, but he couldn't hear you and kept heading in the opposite direction. He totally could hear you too, but he was ignoring your requests to return you home.

The quick 15-minute drive felt like an eternity with how utterly petrified you were. Matter of fact, you were so scared, eyes clenched shut, arms squeezing all the oxygen out of his lungs, you hadn't even noticed that you'd arrived at your mystery destination. He pried your arms off him, causing you to open your eyes; you were in complete shock. A gorgeous castle-like building stood before you, surrounded by trees, and a long gravel driveway trailed in front of it. A voice broke you from your thoughts, but this sound didn't come from the man sitting in front of you; no, it appeared like it came straight from inside your head. 'Logan, would you please introduce me to your new friend? The voice sang through you, your head whipping around frantically to find the owner of these words. “C’mon, I got someone for you to meet.” The man in front of you finally spoke, helping you off the bike and placing the helmet back in its spot on the rear. He guided you through the mansion all the way to the back, stopping at two huge double wooden doors.

“Come in, please.” Rang the same voice you heard earlier, the double doors slowly opening before you to reveal a small, bald man sitting in a chair. “And who might this be, Logan?” He questioned, looking towards the big man next to you. Logan, huh, you thought to yourself, cute name and a cute butt. Logan awkwardly shifted beside you, the bald man sending a booming laugh throughout the room. “Oh my God.. Did I say that out loud?” You whispered heat rising to your cheeks once again. Ignoring you, Logan started explaining to the bald guy, whose name you quickly learned was Charles, what happened earlier. Logan had seen what you were doing in that small store—how you made some substance float out of the ice cream and back into another pint. He assumed you were attempting to do something similar to that when he had grabbed you, and you began shaking like a Chihuahua, yet all you could think about during their discussion of the previous events was how you never got to eat the ice cream you risked your whole life for. “So,” Charles spoke, directing his attention to you. “What can you do exactly? What were you doing with that ice cream?” He hummed his eyes, raking you up and down, studying all your features. hoping they might tell him about who you are.

You were fairly normal-looking; I mean, to the average human eye, they couldn't tell you apart from another human. You felt like a deer in headlights right now, though; you'd never been asked or questioned about your mutation. You never dared to speak about it aloud; hell, your dad wouldn't even let you use your powers ever; it's like he was ashamed of you. “I can... manipulate things, i guess.” You spoke quietly; it felt taboo to you to speak about this, like this was some intimate, inappropriate topic to discuss. “And what do you mean by that?” He mused, deeply interested in your mystery. “I’m not exactly sure, sir. I just know I can do this.” You focus your eyes on the pen sat upon his desk, watching it quickly fall into a liquid puddle. “Fascinating.” Charles smiled up at you, “Can you change it back?” You trained your eyes down on the mess you created, quickly blinking as it slowly morphed back into its original shape of a pen.

Charles laughed in amusement before clasping his hands together. “We have much to discuss, little one, but for now Logan will show you to a room you can rest in. We'll talk more tomorrow.” He nodded at you before Logan had turned around out the door. You took this as your sign to follow, doors shutting behind you both. He guided you up the stairs, stopping at a random white door and handing over a towel and toothbrush he'd picked up on the way to your room. “Just try and get some sleep.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “I’m just up the hall if you need anything, i guess.” He nodded his head in the direction of his door. You just smiled, turning around into your room and softly closing your door. 

You had no clue where the fuck you were or what these strange men were planning to do with you. You've heard the horror stories from your dad about how the government would poke and prod you if anyone knew what you could do. you'd be a test subject for rich white males to toy and play with. You'd set the towel and toothbrush down on a chair in the room you were assigned and slowly stalked your way to the bed. As you crawled into bed attempting to get some shut eye all that you could think to yourself was, "Man my dad is soo going to fucking kill me when he finds me."

[ahhhwomen]

You can say no?

Vampire Empire

Part 6

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is not my best-written chapter I won't lie, but it will still hurt if you are looking for a little angst fix... Yeah no, this hurt a little... I won't lie. Also, peep the tags, I had to make a change for this one...

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), death, alluded rape/non-con Minors DNI 18+

Word count: 1.8k

Taglist

Your hands weave through cold water, their damaged nerves trying desperately to hold on to something, anything. Waving against unfamiliar territory, you paddle and struggle against heavy waves, they push and pull, and you heave for breath between the swishing walls.

The water is chilling and gloomy.

The expansion of the ocean, vast, and intimidating.

You never realized it until now, with your feet kicking and struggling against the currents, but-

you don’t know how to swim.

There was a woman, long before Master entered the picture.

She was the only one to take an incline of pity on your small shaking frame as she dished out the punishment for eating before you were given permission.

Your chest struggles against the hammering of your heavy heart as the older woman looms over your small frame, sitting in the chilled freezer, your hands clamber around the rough wool sweater she instructed you to put on.

“Here.” Her voice is estranged and lost within time, but you remember the way she would hand you a little flashlight and a painting she had observed your eyes drift toward while you stayed with her.

Even at your young age, there had been something about that painting that drew you to it. The delicate brush strokes were perfected over time. You could almost see the progress of the artist within their work. Some lines were thicker, and rougher, as if they were made with an inexperienced hand. Yet, toward the end, the last final touches among the petals were as beautiful as could be.

The first painting she ever brought inside the cold metal box was your favorite. It helped fend away the thoughts of your stiff, shaking body, inside the locked freezer.

It was a field of sunflowers.

You claw against gruff hands as he holds you under the freezing water.

The cold hits you and you can’t help but try and gasp for air, the only reward you're given is water forcing its way into your lungs and dragging you down even lower.

Your vision darkens and you know.

There is nothing you can do.

As you squint up at the man, the water obscures the view, it morphs and moves, and his blond hair almost reminds you of the sun.

Your airways close as his hands tighten, despite the ice-cold water, blood pools inside your head, heating you up from the inside out, as your body numbs.

His horrid vanilla perfume penetrates your senses much like the chilling liquid that surrounds you.

You never tasted vanilla before… this may be the closest you will ever be to it.

In a blurry of delusion and hallucination, you dream of the beach. With the real sun, instead of his blond hair, peaking over the horizon.

And as you lose conciseness you picture a warming light and delicious ice cream with real vanilla.

The forceful grip of chill has been both a friend and a foe over the years. When you woke up that morning, you didn’t think it would be different from any other day. And you didn’t really care, even if it was.

On one side, the cold numbs you and lessens your senses until you can’t feel the burning pain of a harsh hand or even harsher canines.

Yet, on the other hand, with the lack of mobility, you can’t protect yourself. It’s not like you ever had much of a chance against your masters, to begin with, but that one night.

You curl into yourself, your muscles are weak and tired, but you try to hide from the outlash of thoughts and memories.

If you weren’t so damned cold, maybe it would’ve played out differently.

Maybe you could have spoken up before she had them remove that ability altogether.

“HOW DARE YOU!” You whine and turn as two hot weights settle you back in place. Something strokes your side in a gentle up-and-down motion as searing flashes of the past bombard your senses.

“YOU ARE A PET!” Army boots are the only thing you can focus on as she forces you down to your knees in the snow.

Your leash is wrapped around one of the boots, the weak material fraying around the edges as her heels dig into the ground and force you even lower. With your face flush with the dead grass that is layered with frozen water, she stares you down.

“YOU ARE A SLAVE!”

The last leverage of your knees is quickly kicked out from under you, and you fall with a heavy thud. Your eyes force themselves closed as the snow invades your nervous system.

“YOU DON’T GET TO SAY NO TO ME!” The harsh breathing of the older woman is slurred and hissed. Which is how you know her sharper teeth are out.

Your eyelids slowly peel open, and with a determined turn of your head, you stare up at her in wonder. What did you do?

“DID YOU TELL HER NO WHEN SHE DID THIS TO YOU, HUH!?”

Did you tell her no?

You can say no?

Before the vision can continue, you startle as soft whispers sneak past your eardrums. The words are hard to make out between the intense tone of the blond woman and the horrid chill of the surroundings.

You can only make out parts as the gentle strokes return to your side. A warmth, unfamiliar to you, presses itself closer to you as you can feel their grip tighten against your flailing body.

“Hush, it’s okay…”

Is it?

“You’re okay baby.”

You?

You are, okay…?

Aren’t you drowning…?

Yeah.

You are drowning.

“Shit, she’s getting worse.” Wanda curses under her breath as she closes the distance between the two of you even more, even going so far as to pull Natasha closer by the arm wrapped around your midsection.

Both she and the other redhead lay on their plush carpet in nothing but underwear as they clutch you close while the fireplace burns and crackles to the left of you.

After Natasha had carried you into their home, earlier that day, the vamped-out redhead had quickly ordered her wife to strip down, her voice harsh yet monotone. At the time, Wanda had been riddled with confusion, Natasha had never spoken to her in such a manner before, much less with a demand like that.

The way her words had drawled over each syllable, the air hissed against prominent canines as her tongue clicked at the roof of her mouth. It oozed authority, a clear disrespect toward the older vampire.

There are ranks within the vampire world and rules to follow such ranks. Wanda was the Wanda Maximoff, clan leader of the Maximoff clan. As far as the vamp rule applied, Wanda was at the top of the food chain.

Natasha is strong, always has been, but if she were ever put up against the command of a clan leader her free will would cease to exist. Of course, the powerful redhead would never do such a thing to her wife, but that didn’t mean a vampire´s rage was something that could be stopped.

And Wanda should be angry, she should be outright offended that a lesser vampire would ever speak to her in such a manner. Had Natasha been someone else, Wanda would’ve ripped her head off already.

Yet here they were.

Natasha laid you down gently in front of the fireplace, her hands were already moving to start the fire before she could register what she was doing. Strong, orange, flames licked her upper body as the wood caught ablaze. The heat sizzled and the wood groaned. Previous charcoal that had laid forgotten on the ashpan glowed and flourished with the newfound heat.

Then much like she expected Wanda to do, she stripped down to her underwear. It’s as if she couldn’t get the clothes off fast enough, with every glide of expensive fabric that loosened and fell, she just became more irritated. She doesn’t know how long you have been like this, but the window for action was closing by the minute.

The scent of blood from your scratched elbow drifted through the mansion, yet it was the last thing on the redheads’ minds.

Crawling over to the couch Natasha pulled down every blanket she could get her hands on, and in a jiffy, she was back at your side.

Wrapping you both up like a burrito as she buried herself under the blankets with you.

An audible hiss could be heard as Natasha first laid her front flat against your bare back. Your skin could rival a piece of paper for the bleakness. But it wasn’t just that, you were beyond cold. If Natasha didn’t know any better, she would think you were a corpse.

The thought made her shudder, in a moment of need for a distraction, her eyes started their journey toward a hotheaded redhead.

Natasha knew the significance of demanding anything from her wife, to be frank, it had just slipped, and as her eyes connected with her lovers, she was expecting to see anger flaring within them.

Instead, when her eyes disconnect from where they had been staring at your greasy hair, they glance up to see Wanda stripped down and standing protectively over the both of you.

So, after being let into your little burrito, they both wrapped themselves around you and waited with bated breath.

There was an unspoken understanding amongst them. You were special, whether they wanted to believe it or not.

Close to an hour later, you started whining in your fever-induced sleep.

It all went downhill from there.

(On the other side of the city)

Carol huffs as yet another problem arises, she could never get any peace.

Walking out she can finally breathe as the cold city air flows into her. Her lungs expand and contract as her eyes slip closed for a second. If she wasn’t so fucking angry, she may have enjoyed the silence that hung in the crisp air.

Pulling her phone out she goes to check your location, she hadn’t planned to run off like that, but one of the idiot goons had started trouble with another clan. If she hadn’t stopped it then and there, they were all as good as dead. It had been an ally of the Maximoff clan after all.

“Urgh” pinching her eyebrows Carol groans in frustration. She is going to get an earful from Thor once she gets back to work.

If her mood wasn’t sour before, it most definitely was now.

She was only half-heartedly checking your tracker, too busy wallowing in self-pity, that is until she saw the house, or more like a mansion, where your collar now resides.

Glass shatters, small pieces of melted sand, scattering and clinking as a mastered craft meets asphalt.

She is going to kill you.

Taglist:

@thinking1bee @tobiaslut @esmeseasle @skittlebum @tia-thesimp @maximilfsworld @leenasayeed @scarlethexelove @itsalwaysskorpioszn @observeowl @tekanparadiae @alexawynters @adelareys @anqyuicka @ichala @thalia-is-not-ok @lovelyy-moonlight @wandamaximoff-simp @opossumking03 @confidant-thoughts @delivery-bird @esouliie @geydumbbetch @dorabledewdroop @mousetheorist @herwagonempathkid @mommysfavouritegirl @auroraromaximoff @roman0ffsheart @morganna-la-faye @kaosrsing @marvelwomenarehot0 @lizzieswife101 @og-kxsh-420 @chibilauren @sgm616 @cyber-juipter @falloutboy-lover @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @likefirenrain @cole2907 @rahhhha @taliiiaasteria @mommysfavouritegirl @dehydratedcoffeeaddict @viktoriaromanovaa @julz2000

[lou-struck]

Heatwave

Hawks x reader

WC: 1.1k

~ It's the hottest day of the year, and you are stuck roasting on Zoom calls; if only you had a hero to save you from your inconvenience. 

You hate this…

It's the hottest day of the year, and you are cooped up in your tiny apartment with a broken air conditioning system. All morning long, you have been tied up with Zoom calls and team meetings, forced to wear an itchy, lightweight cardigan for the sake of professionalism. At times like this, you are thankful that your laptop's camera quality is so poor, your forehead is covered in beads of sweat, and the crappy little navy blue desk fan you have perched on a stack of books is doing little to cool down.

Your manager leading this meeting looks relatively comfortable in his little window. His tie is actually fluttering from the consistent airflow from the top-of-the-line air conditioning unit he was bragging about having installed.

Damn him

You were only half listening to the call when his dull voice came drones through your speakers. "Alright, everyone, we're gonna step away for 15 minutes or so; feel free to turn your cameras off, and we will resume shortly." 

Your heatwave-fueled rage festers within you as you mute yourself and turn off your camera. Your thoughts shift to what website mailing lists you could add his email to when your front doors burst open. 

Your boyfriend, Keigo Takami, known to the public as the Winged Hero Hawks, comes in loudly. "Damn, it's hot out there; what is the commission trying to do having me patrol out there in full uniform? Turn me into Fried Chicken?"

"You're telling me," you pant, taking a large chug of your ice water and slipping off your scratchy cardigan. Discomfort and pain twist on your features as you chase the weak airflow from the fan with little success.

"What's up with you?" he ass shucking off his flight jacket. It hits the floor with a thud that tells you that it has absorbed more than its share of sweat today. 

"Debating a career change," you groan, craving the cold. "M' gonna move to the Arctic and think up new ice cream flavors."

"Sounds chilly," he chuckles, tucking his wings to his back and striding across the wooden floor. "Mind if I join?"

"No," you groan. "You are too hot, Kei. You would contribute to global warming." The heatwave may be destroying your ability to think rationally, but your sarcasm is still delightfully intact.

"Awe, Angel, you wound me." he chuckles, placing his hand in front of his heart. His avian-like eyes peer into yours, full of love and mischief. "Wouldn't you miss me out there, all alone in the cold?"

"You know I would," you chuckle as a bead of sweat rolls down your chin. "But it's too warm to want to do anything else."

He spots your blackened camera and steps away shyly from the view of the screen. "Wait, are you in a meeting?"

You roll your eyes as you once again remember the cause of your discomfort. "Unfortunately, all the other departments have the day off today, but I have been stuck popping in and out of meetings for the last few hours."

"That's rough, and it's not exactly cool in here, is it?" he coos, making a B-line to your freezer and pulling out one of your ice pops. Peeling off the wrapper, the color is revealed to be a bright red, rivaling the rich color of his wings. "Nice, I got cherry." He grins, biting the sweet treat with his teeth making you cringe slightly. 

"Psychopath," you mutter, "why do you have to eat it so quickly?"

"I can't help it," he laughs, wiping a bit of cherry juice with the back of his hand. "It's hot out, and I gotta speed up that Brian freeze. You know, my place has some pretty decent air conditioning. You'd be way more comfortable if you moved your set up there." 

"True, but your apartment is much nicer than mine, and my coworkers would notice," you frown. Your relationship with Keigo may not be considered a secret by you; you would prefer it if your coworkers didn't know about it. People tend to get kinda weird when they find out you are dating one of the country's top heroes.

"I get it; you just want to keep me all to yourself," he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. His stubble tickles your skin as he presses soft cherry-flavored kisses to your warm skin.

"Keigo, it's way too hot for this kind of affection," you whine, squirming in his hold. 

"You mean your little fan right there isn't taking care of you?" he teases, eyeing your only warrior in this fight against Mother Nature. You don't know how it happened but the weak little gust of air seems to be getting weaker by the moment. 

"The fan sucks, Kei," you mutter, tapping the center lightly with your finger, urging it to pick up the pace.

"Then it's fired," he says, pulling its plug and tossing it over to the couch, where it bounces on the plush cushions.

"Hey, I needed that, it may suck, but I really need it to make it through the day," you say, noticing the movement on your screen as your coworkers slowly begin to get back on the call. 

"Ooof, duty calls?" he asks, peering at your screen. You are thankful that your camera and microphone are off.

"Looks like it," you frown. "Can you grab my fan for me, please, so I can hop back on without roasting to death?"

"Nah, I won't be doing that." he teases, his honey-colored gaze boring into yours. "But if you need to cool off a bit, I have something in mind." The hero's wings twitch in amusement as your brows pinch together in confusion. 

~

Fifteen minutes into the next round of your call, you are surprisingly comfortable as a strong, silent breeze bushes against your skin, cooling you off lovingly as you listen to your coworkers ramble on and on about topics that could easily be an email.

Your boredom is subdued, however, when you catch a glimpse of your manager. Whose state-of-the-art air-conditioner seems to have given out, and now he is sweating buckets, having to mute himself occasionally to hide how out of breath he is.

Keigo sits just on the other side of your desk, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. Glorious red wings outstretched as they beat softly into the air. Fanning you far better than any air conditioning unit.

You can tell that Keigo is over the moon getting to help you like this. You feel refreshed and full of energy as you notice your manager is growing more and more uncomfortable. You have a feeling this meeting will be coming to a close fairly soon. 

Once you are free from your corporate shackles, you'll have to find some way to thank Keigo for his invaluable assistance. 

Maybe with some ice cream for dinner?

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @sleepyyshroom @anjodedesgostoeerros @isaacdaknight @qardasngan

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 16

So... in my defense I was really sick yesterday and accidentally scheduled the post for 10:17am and snuck in chapter 16. And I didn't even realize it until the other chapter had several likes, comments, and reblogs.

So I'm posting this now as a sort "Sorry I fucked up! Enjoy an extra chapter on me!" type thing!

In this we have Steve's no good, horrible, rotten bad day and the end of Act 2.

Also? Cliffhanger!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

~

Steve was feeling all the stares from both his fellow employees and the customers. He felt like shrinking in on himself every time it happened. It was like they couldn’t figure out what was so wrong with him that his dad would chase him out of town. Because most of the town didn’t know.

Clint Harrington had seen to that. Oh, his buddies knew, his wife’s sewing circle and club ladies knew, but the lessers? Nah, they only heard rumors. And whoo boy did Steve hear some wild ones.

Like that he had been caught in an orgy, or that he been dealing drugs out of the pool house or even that he had been caught with an underaged girl.

Thankfully most of the people didn’t believe that one one bit. But it was near thing and if Steve got his hands on Hank Tippets he was going to wring the man’s neck for that rumor.

It was Robin’s day off, and while usually the boss had them work together, Steve was with three other kids.

Three kids who had been slacking all day, making Steve handle the rush and refilling both the ice cream and toppings, and generally just being asses of themselves.

He was on his last nerve.

“Okay, guys!” Steve huffed putting his hands on his hips. “I’m all for slacking, but I am not the only capable of getting out the ice cream. It’s someone else’s turn!”

The two girls rolled their eyes but did what they were told. The boy on the other hand refused to budge.

“Just because you’re older,” he huffed, grabbing a handful of M&Ms and just shoving them in his face, “doesn’t mean you get to boss us around, man. Go back to whatever bridge you crawled out of.”

Steve’s lip curled. “That’s gross.” He rolled his eyes and put one hand on his hip. “And besides I didn’t crawl out from under a bridge, you did. Look at you. You’re hair is greasy, you smell like you haven’t bathed in years, and you have a stain on your shorts I don’t even want to think of what that is.”

“It’s chocolate,” the kid said with a sneer. “So if you aren’t living under a bridge then where are you living?”

Alarm bells went off in Steve’s head. “The only address anyone needs is my PO Box where to send my paycheck.” He shrugged. “Other than that, why do you care? What are you the Feds?”

The kid rolled his eyes at that and walked away. Steve shook his head. He just had to keep his head down and his mouth shut until he found something else.

Suddenly both girls were giggling and shushing each other.

“Hey, Steve can you come here for a moment?” the one called out. “I think the door to the freezer is stuck.”

Steve sighed and went to the back area, but as soon as he opened the door, a bucket of warm, melted strawberry ice cream fell on top of him. It hit the side of his head, knocking the hat off and clattered to the ground. He was covered head to toe in a gooey, sticky mess. It was in his hair and in his shoes and his socks were drenched.

Suddenly laughter filled his ears as he realized what had happened. This had been their plan all day. To get him annoyed enough that he would just barge through and get it dumped on him. He felt like fucking Sissy Spacek in ‘Carrie’.

Hot tears welled up as he tore off apron, stomping on the stupid hat and storming out of there. All the to calls of telling to come back, that it was all a joke, that he needed to lighten up.

He dashed off to his car, leaving behind a trial of melted ice cream. He tried to put the key in the door, but his hands shook too bad. He was forced to sit next to the car as he sobbed.

A man came up to him, waving his hands and shouting. “You there! Get away from that car! That mess will ruin the paint job!”

Steve looked up at him in shock. “But it’s my car!” he protested and showed him the keys. “See?”

“You’ve clearly stolen this car!” the man bellowed. “I’m going to call the police!” He made a grab for the keys but Steve was faster. They wrestled for them.

“Get off me!” he cried. “Help!”

Suddenly the man was being pulled off of Steve and the sense of relief he felt when he heard Hopper’s growling voice asking what the hell was going on, was palpable.

“This boy stole this car!” the man howled, still trying to get to Steve and take the key.

Hopper, who was dressed for work, leaned down to look closely at him. “Harrington? Is that you under all that goop?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said, lifting his tear stained face up at the police chief. “My coworkers dumped old and melted ice cream on me and I was just trying to go home.”

Hopper sighed. He shook the man he pulled off of Steve. “That’s his car and if you don’t stop your screaming I’m taking you in for assault and attempted theft.”

The man’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to get away from Steve and Hopper.

Hopper turned back to Steve. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you into your car so you can go home and clean off.” He took the keys from Steve and unlocked the door. “Now drive real careful, all right? Don’t want you in an accident because you’re too emotional to drive.”

Steve nodded. He got to his feet and drove off, clearly being mindful of his state of mind, taking time to do things he wouldn’t normally think about.

Now to go raise fucking Cain with the manager of Scoops Ahoy.

~

The kids were still doubled over with laughter when Hopper came storming into the store.

“You kid!” he barked causing all of them to stop laughing and stand up straight. He peered at the name tag. “Kyle. Get a mop and a bucket and you mop every inch of the mall that has even one drop of that pink goop.”

Kyle opened his mouth to argue but closed it when Hopper glared at him. He ran to grab the mop and bucket and started with mess in front of the store.

“You two,” Hopper growled, “Close the store now. This the scene of a crime. An assault. I will also need the number to the owner or manager. And I mean I want it yesterday.”

The first girl whose name tag read Mary hurried to pull the front gate closed most of the way. Enough to show they were closed, but open enough so Kyle could get back in.

The other girl crossed her arms and scowled at Hopper. Her name tag said Linda. “No one’s been assaulted. We’ve been here the whole time, we would have seen something like that.”

The gate rattled as Kyle forced his way back in with the bucket and mop. Hopper looked over his shoulder.

“Good,” he huffed in annoyance, “you’re all here. That means I don’t have to repeat myself. I’m referring to the assault on Steve Harrington. Dropping a bucket of that size, filled with melted ice cream could have seriously hurt him. What would you lot have done if the bucket had his his head dead on and knocked him unconscious?”

Kyle scoffed. “Like that could happen. Not!”

“Yeah, kid,” Hopper growled, “you a cop or firefighter or even EMT? You some Doogie Howser or some shit? Because if you’re not any of that then you don’t get to tell me what’s possible or not.”

Kyle gulped and looked away as the girls eyes went wide.

“We weren’t trying to hurt him,” Mary insisted. “We were only trying to humiliate him a little. I mean have you seen that fancy car of his. He doesn’t need this job. We do.”

“It doesn’t matter why he’s working here,” Hopper said gruffly. “He was hired to do the fucking job, just leave him alone. You didn’t even have to like him. Just. Not that.”

Hopper called the manager and he was over in a heartbeat. He spotted the gate down first and then splattered mess everywhere.

“What the hell has happened here?” the man shrieked. He spotted Hopper and first he went deathly pale and then he went bright red. “I want to know the meaning of all this!” He yanked the gate up and slipped inside.

Hopper walked up to him. “Mr. Bauman, I’m Chief Hopper and three of your employees set up a bucket trap filled with bad strawberry ice cream, causing it dump all over a fourth employee’s head. A Steve Harrington. I am taking the three kids in for questioning and if I feel it’s serious enough, pressing charges on Harrington’s behalf.”

Murray straightened his back and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Now see here. You have no proof they did anything of the sort. Just Steve’s word.”

Hopper advanced on him, like a panther seeking its prey, but Murray didn’t even flinch. “You’ve got cameras in his place right?”

Suddenly Linda was running for the manager’s office, but Hopper’s voice cracked out like a whip. “You touch that tape and I will absolutely haul your ass in for tampering with evidence.”

Linda skidded to a stop and Murray stared at her agape. “What the honest fuck?”

“I’m gonna take that as an admission of guilt,” Hopper said, narrowing his eyes at her.

Linda ducked her head and slowly walked back to stand next to Mary and Kyle, her hands clasped in front of her.

“I’ll look at the tape and bring it over to the sheriff’s station,” Murray vowed. He turned the three stooges. “And if I find anything on that tape that even so much as hints you did what Chief Hopper is suggesting. Don’t bother coming back into work. Because you’re fired. And I’ll make sure no one in this mall will hire you.”

Hopper nodded at Murray and then turned to the kids. “Now I don’t have enough handcuffs for all of ya, but I’m about to get really creative.”

~

Steve came home and just stripped his uniform off and just face planted into the bed. He didn’t care about his hair or that he was still covered goop. He just wanted to bury himself under the blankets and never emerge.

He must have fallen asleep because he woken up by Robin on the phone.

“No, Mom,” she hissed. “I don’t care what you say. I’m not going back to working at Scoops. Not after what they did to Steve. And I’m not quitting the Corroded Coffin job. He needs me.”

She paused for a moment. “Nope there is nothing you can do to change my mind. Look there’s another call coming through. Chief Hopper said he’d call with more information.”

Robin slammed the phone down and muttered, “Oh yeah, I’m so grounded. Worth it, though.” The phone rang immediately and she picked it up. “Chief Hopper. No, he’s still sleeping. I would be too after after everything he’s gone through.”

She listened for awhile, putting in the appropriate hum where required.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell him,” she said. “I think he’s waking up. Did you want to him? Not a problem. Thank you.”

Steve gave up all pretense of sleep and sat up, rubbing his eyes. His arm was still sticky and gross but he didn’t care.

“I’d tell you to cover up,” Robin said with a grimace, gesturing to all of him, “but you don’t have to.”

He looked down at himself and realized that he had fallen asleep on the covers in just his underwear and socks. “Oh. Sorry.” He pulled a pillow over his junk and stared up at her.

“So as you could probably guess, that was Chief Hopper,” she said. “He said to tell you that he gave each of the perpetrators a little scare down at the station and made their parents come get them. The dude that tried to assault you about your car, was picked up later for erratic driving and given a ticket. Sgt. Callahan pegged him as the guy because he still had ice cream all down the front of his expensive suit and tie.”

“Good,” Steve said dryly. “Bastard. I was literally sobbing my guts out and he was more concerned with the paint job.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. “Karma bit his ass hard.”

She sat down next to him and put her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about what happened. I know it’s not my fault or anything, but it really sucks that they did that to you.”

“Thanks Robs,” he murmured.

She stood back up. “I’ve told everyone to leave you alone for a couple of days so when you’re ready to see people again, reach out okay?”

He nodded as she walked to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. She turned back. “Just one more thing. Hopper says he told Joyce about the bullying and she has said she’ll back off about the job now. So there’s at least that silver lining.”

“Yeah.”

~

Steve wasn’t sure how long he laid in bed, but it was obviously enough for a welfare check up from his friends on the staff.

This time it was only Bob and Rosa, but they both looked concerned.

“There is gunk everywhere,” Rosa huffed and waved her hand over his room. “The bed sheets stink and you are wallowing, mi amor.”

“You’ve got to at least shower,” Bob said with a note of distress in voice. “Give Rosa time to clean the room, change the bedding.”

Steve shook his head. There was no need to get out of bed ever again.

Then the door of the hotel room swung open and Bob and Rosa turned.

“Just who are you that you can just be walking in here?!” she bellowed, rounding on the stranger with her duster.

The man raised his hands up in surrender. “I’m Eddie Munson. I pay for the room.”

End of Act 2

~

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Oops! When I took people off the list, I forgot to add the new people on!

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts @steddieislife

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

[rafetopia]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

- 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

pairing: virgin!pope heyward x virgin!fem!reader

genre: soft smut and lots of fluff

words: ~3.8k

warnings: outdoor sex (on a roof), protected sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, loss of virginity, mentions of food and alcohol

summary: a date night on the roof and a love confession lead to your first night with your boyfriend

It was a beautiful Saturday night, the sky was clear making all the beautiful stars visible to those who wished to look at them. There was a fresh breeze dancing through the late summer air. It was a quiet night, scattered seagulls were singing in the distance, mixed with the sound waves crashing softly onto the shore.

You were sitting on the roof of “Heyward’s Seafood”, together with Pope, your boyfriend. The two of you had only started dating recently, which added to the slight nervousness you were feeling in your stomach. This obviously wasn’t your first date and yet, something felt different tonight. He was going all out since his parents weren't home tonight. It was their 21st anniversary and like every single year before, Heyward took his wife out for dinner and dancing. Pope had been in charge of closing the store and as soon as he was done, he had invited you to date night on the shop's roof. He knew how much you loved watching the stars at night, it had been your favorite thing to do since you were a little girl.

He had spread out blankets and even made you pasta, your favorite food. Well, all he had to do was cook pasta, roast pine nuts, drown them in pesto, and put some parmesan cheese on top and it still took the best of him. But even after almost dropping the pesto and burning the pine nuts, he still managed to make everything look and taste just as you loved it the most (minus the over-salted penne but you let that one slide because it’s Pope). He even got you that cheap wine you were always dragging around with you when you were hanging out with him and his friends because you knew all they were drinking was beer. JJ used to laugh at you for that, but after multiple smacks to his head by not only Pope but also Sarah, he quickly learned to shut up about your drinking preferences. Pope also knew what a sweet tooth you had, which was why he knew he couldn't miss dessert. He had stored some ice cream in the freezer box, which he had hurled up the tiny ladder. He almost have fallen back down if it wasn't for JJ, who had helped him prepare everything last minute.

“How does it taste? And be honest please, I can handle it.” He asked, his left eyebrow rising as he looked at you with hopeful eyes.

You took a second to finish chewing and swallowing but you didn’t need long to think of an answer. “It’s perfect, baby. I love how you made the pine nuts extra roasty.” You smiled genuinely, but Pope seemed to capture your response more critically than you intended.

“I burned them, didn’t I?” He said, all excitement leaving his voice. “I’m so sorry, I knew I should have made new ones…”

“No, no!” You exclaimed as you stuffed the last few noodles into your mouth. “I said they’re perfect, Pope and you know, I never lie.” You smiled, while you tried to chew your food down as fast as possible. “They are way better than when my dad does them.” You added, before taking the empty plate out of his hands and crawling onto his lab.

“I guess that does mean something, considering your dad is a chef at the country club.” He smiled, almost believing you.

“See.” You giggled, as you softly wiped away the stain of red pesto left on his upper lip. “He always takes them out of the pan way too early, you can barely taste that they are supposed to be roasted.”

For normal people, that would have been a lie, because no one on that island was able to cook as well as your dad did, but for your taste buds, they were always way too mild.

He smiled at your statement, even though he knew he kinda fucked up a little bit. But to his advantage, your mind didn’t stay long with the pasta because as soon as you saw the box, something else crossed your mind immediately.

“Baby, what’s in there?” Your eyes lit up as you saw the smile crawling over his lips, knowing exactly what that meant. He knew how much you loved Ice Cream and since everything was (almost) perfect tonight, you knew what must be in there.

You knew you were right when he opened the box and pulled out a box of ice cream and two spoons. “You know I set all this up, so we could watch the stars together and now you’re sitting with your back to them.” He chuckled, softly as he guided a spoon full of Ice cream to your mouth.

“First of all, I can see them behind you, and second of all, you are way prettier than the stars.”

He tried to hide a smile but he was so flustered, it was hard for him. He loved receiving compliments from you but still, he wasn’t very used to them. You loved seeing him like this, you loved getting his cheeks all hot and flustered, it made you giggle and sent even more butterflies through your core.

You took a sip of your wine, that he had even filled into a wine glass. You didn't even know he knew what a wine glass looked like and he probably didn’t and just took the weirdest looking glass in the cabinet but you were still surprised. You were even more surprised that he decided to drink wine with you tonight, knowing he would get teased endlessly for it if his friends saw him. You appreciated what he did for you tonight, so much that you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He always looked pretty but tonight it was different. He was dressed in a black shirt and some black basketball shorts, a look he knew was killing you. You were obsessed with him dressed all in black and you knew exactly that was why he chose this particular outfit tonight.

The two of you kept rambling on about whatever came to your mind while slowly but surely emptying that box of Ice Cream. Well, in the end, it was you who ate most of it, since Pope was the one who did most of the talking. You couldn’t help but smile at every single thing he said, no matter how boring you would normally think the topics were. After a while he stopped talking, as he looked at your smiling face, wondering what it could be that amused you so much.

“What’s so funny?” He asked. You noticed how unsure he got, a normal thing for him when he caught himself talking without a break. “Am I talking too much? I’m talking too much…”

“No, no!” You chuckled, giving him a reassuring smile. “You know I could listen to you for hours.”

You looked down into the no empty Ice Cream box, the feeling of guilt rushing over your face, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, don’t worry, I mostly got this for you.” He smiled softly, knowing you would feel bad anyway. “Really baby, you know I don't even like strawberries that much.”

“True.” You chuckled, as leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

He quickly retorted the kiss, putting the empty box away, before placing his hands on your waist. The kiss started slow and sweet but quickly turned more passionate as you felt the wine circulating through your veins, giving you the courage to let your hand travel down to his pants, where your hand started massaging his growing bulge. Quiet moans escaped his lips, as your hand slipped into his pants, and quickly the two of you noticed that night, might be night where you went all the way to the end. When you started dating, you quickly found out and neither of you was very experienced in that matter, which made you decide to wait a little bit. There had been many times where you thought this was the night but you always ended up stopping before the actual act. This time felt different though. His hands had wandered under your dress by now, where he quickly noticed the lack of fabric that came with you only wearing a lace thong.

You smirked as you felt his dick twitching under your touch, combined with the sweet moans escaping his beautiful lips. His hands were now wandering up to your tits, where he once again was met with the lack of fabric. You heard a quiet “damn” escaping his lips, as his thumbs traced over your nipples. You let your head fall back as his lips traveled over your neck, kissing every single inch of your skin. You tried to control your moans but the sensation from his thumbs on your nipples and his tongue on your neck was too much for you to stay quiet.

“Baby…” You whispered, your hands finding their way back inside his pants.

“I know.” He mumbled between his kisses, before turning his attention back to your mouth.

Before he could do anything, you had pushed your tongue inside him, not caring to wait for him to take the lead. You gently slid under his pants, so you were holding his hard dick in your hands. You slowly let your hand wander up and down, while your thumb brushed over his tip. You knew how much he loved it when you did that, his twitching erection being the proof. His right hand was now sliding down to your thong, where he laid his finger on your soaking, but still covered clit. This wasn't the first time he made you wet like that but it was the first time you thought it might lead to more. You needed more of him and as if he could read your thoughts, he gently pushed the fabric to the side, before placing his finger back on your clit.

The sudden feeling of direct skin contact, made you moan out loud even louder. He noticed how needy you grew, so you let his fingers trace over your entrance, causing you to look at him with pleading eyes.

“Can I…?” He asked carefully, not being sure if he was going too fast.

“Please.” You whispered, nodding in support of your answer.

He was so gentle as he let his fingers slide inside you. You were already soaking wet but he was so scared of hurting you that he took them back out just to spit on them. You didn’t expect him to do something like that but it only made you want him more. He gently pushed them back inside, causing you to gasp out in pleasure. You shot him an assuring smile before leaning back in for a kiss. You let your hand slide up and down his length while he pushed his fingers back and forth into your core. He started slow but soon began to match your movements, which made it very hard for you to concentrate.

“Pope…” You whispered, “I… I love you.”

He stopped and looked at you, eyes widened in surprise and you were just as surprised as he was. “I…” You stumbled, but he placed his index finger under your chin and guided it up, so you’d look him in the eyes.

“I love you too.” He smiled. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you moved here.”

“But Pope, that was in third grade.” You chuckled, now your eyes were filled with surprise.

“I know.”

This was enough to send you over the edge. You smashed your lips back into his, without leaving him any room to breathe. After what felt like hours, you stopped. “I’m ready. Need to feel you inside me.” You whispered.

He stopped his movements as the excitement rushed all over him. “You sure?”

"Absolutely." You smiled, “If you are.”

“100%!” He exclaimed. “But I don’t… JJ gave me one but It’s downstairs… I think.” He mumbled, earning nothing but a smile from you.

You leaned in for a kiss and whispered: “Pocket inside my bag.”

Pope internally smiled at the way you were always prepared for everything. It was one of the reasons he was so in love with you. He gently pulled your dress over your head, leaving you all exposed in front of him. He took a second to admire your beauty before you pulled off his shirt. You too, needed a second to take him in. It wasn't that you hadn't seen him like this before, you did countless times at the beach but you fell in love with him all over again every time.

“God you’re so pretty.” You mumbled, leaving him all shy and flustered.

“I believe that’s my line, baby.”

“But you’re pretty too.” You giggled.

He smiled and pulled you in for a kiss, while his hands wandered from your waist down to your ass. Your hands were placed on his soft-toned chest, feeling his muscles playing beneath his skin. You were still sitting on top of him, so he signaled you to get up, for him to be able to pull off his pants. Once they were off, he told you to lie down and climbed on top of you. You pulled him in for more kisses, while his hand wandered down to your thong. He easily let his fingers slide under the fabric, his touch sending goosebumps all over your skin. He let his thumb dance over your clit, while his index finger slid inside. You let out a loud moan, leaving a smirk all over his face. It quickly turned into an expression of slight embarrassment, as he remembered where the two of you were at.

"What's wrong?” You asked slightly confused.

“Nothing baby, it's just… what if anyone hears us?”

“Then let them hear us.” You giggled, “But I can try to be more quiet if you want.”

“You know what? No.” He grinned, the thought of other people hearing how good he made you feel suddenly turned him on more than he thought.

And he did make you feel very, very good. The thought of actually being vulnerable like that for someone had always freaked you out a little bit but with him it was different. He made you nervous but not in a bad way. You were nervous indeed, but it was more exciting than anything else.

The deeper his fingers dug inside you, the more you wanted him. Your left hand was placed on his shoulder, while your right one was looking for your bag. You grabbed it and pulled out a tiny colorful package.

“Are you ready?” You asked, earning a nod from your boyfriend.

“Are you?”

“Hmm… I think so?” You answered, more unsure than sure.

“I uhmm… I can…” He stuttered, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

With that, he went down but not without covering your body in kisses, causing you to giggle at the sensation. The moment his tongue met your folds, your giggle turned into moans. You had never felt this way before, as he had never used his tongue on you before. He struggled at first, not really knowing what to do but the louder your moans got, the more confident he became. Pope had always been a quick learner so it didn't take long until he had figured it out. He twisted his tongue inside, hitting exactly where you needed him to hit. He even added his thumb to your clit for support- causing you to see stars even though you had closed your eyes.

You felt something in you tighten, it was unfamiliar but it felt so good and it got only stronger the faster and more eager he got. Before you knew it, your high rushed over you, causing you to almost scream his name into the night. Your angled legs slid down next to his, as you desperately tried to contain your voice. Your hands that were tangled in his hair cramped together, sending a slight pain through his head but in this moment, Pope would’ve rather died than stopping you in any way. He looked up at you, trying to get a quick glance at you since he had never seen a girl orgasm before, at least not outside of the internet and most definitely not caused by himself. He was so amazed by your beauty, that he didn’t realize he was still staring once you opened your eyes again.

“What?” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “Did you just watch me? Oh my god, how embarrassing.” You mumbled as you felt your cheeks turning all hot.

“You are so damn beautiful, you have no idea.” He said, his fingers softly caressing over your thighs. “This was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“Then you really should look into the mirror more often, pretty boy.” You grinned, before signaling him to come closer and kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips and to your surprise, it was better than you had always imagined. “I think now I'm ready.” You giggled, as you let your hand travel down to his underwear.

You let your hand slide under the fabric, where you quickly felt him harden under your touch. You handed him the condom and he removed his boxers. You were sitting next to him, preparing the extra blanket he had brought, while he tried to roll over the condom, struggling.

“Here, let me help you.” You said, as you led your hand slide over his length, up and down until he was more than ready. Pope’s mind had already drifted back to pleasure land, but you were able to roll it over with ease. You laid yourself back on the blanket, as he crawled on top of you. You swung the other blanket over him, which earned you an appreciative “thank you” from your boyfriend. You spread your legs as he was looking to push it in but you both soon found out that it was actually way easier if you guided him.

The moment he slid inside you, you both let out a moan, almost synchronized. It did hurt a little bit though, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asked, his voice filled with concern. “We can stop if it hurts, I’ll stop.”

“No.” You whispered, “It does hurt a little bit but I’m sure it will stop soon. You did good preparation work.” You smirked, causing him to smile himself.

“If you want me to stop, just say it okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You smiled, before pulling him in for a soft kiss.

He slowly continued his movements, careful not to hurt you. He enjoyed every second of it but couldn't get the thought out of his head that it might not feel the same for you. He got convinced quickly though, when your hands traveled down his back, nails digging deep into his skin, so deep that he was sure it would be visible tomorrow morning.

“Just like that, baby.” You moaned out, “You can even go faster if you want, it doesn't hurt anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes baby, please.”

With that, he sped up his pace, still careful but faster than before. He was close to you, legs angled and face over yours, because there wasn't a second where he didn’t want to look into your eyes. He leaned in for a kiss, which you retorted quickly, while you wrapped your legs around his torso, pushing the blanket off him in the process. You would’ve been sorry but you needed him to be as close as possible to you and judging by the sweat on his skin, he didn’t seem to mind much. With your newfound position, you were able to push him even deeper into you, a fact both of you welcomed very much. As his movements got faster, your moans got louder and he soon realized that he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Your nails dug deeper into his skin and he wanted to hold out longer for you but it grew harder and harder for him to do so. Especially as soon as you moved your lips to his neck, which almost sent him over the edge.

“Faster baby, can you go faster?” You moaned out, to which he sped up his movements.

“Fuck…” He whispered, and soon after, his orgasm washed over him.

He sounded so beautiful, as he moaned into your ear, so loudly, that you were sure someone must've heard the two of you. As soon as he felt like himself again, he collapsed on top of you. He wrapped his arms around your body, and laid his head on your chest, perfect for you to straddle his head. You loved tracing your fingers through his locks, and he did as well since it always helped him calm down. You were somehow able to grab the blanket that you had lost earlier, so you covered the two of you with it. Your fingers went back to straddling his head, and before you knew it your eyes fell shut. You both were tired, so tired that you were pretty sure you both fell asleep for a few minutes. As soon as your eyes were met with the beautiful night sky once again, you tried to wake up your sleepy boyfriend.

“Pope baby, wake up.”

“Hmm, too comfy.” He mumbled, and you were pretty sure he fell back asleep right after.

“Baby, you are still wearing the condom, we need to get cleaned up.” You chuckled, as you tried to keep yourself awake. “I don't want it to get lost in me.” You added, as you once again tried to shake him awake, less gently this time.

“Hmm, am wake.” He mumbled as he lifted his head.

“Careful, baby.”

He carefully sat himself up and pulled out of you. To your surprise, everything went over smoothly and you were able to get up without leaving behind a mess. He wrapped it up in some tissue and the two of you got dressed.

“I’m pretty sure my parents are back by now.” He said as you gathered all the things he brought on the roof.

“If so, they probably heard us. And if that’s the case I’ll never be able to look them in the eyes ever again.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yep.”

You were lucky, Heward's truck wasn’t there yet when they climbed down the roof. The two of you put everything away. When you fell into bed a few minutes later, he pulled his arm around you so you could snuggle your head onto his body. You both fell asleep within seconds but more connected and in love with each other, than ever before.

add yourself to my obx tag list here