#we're in the temple on our knees

[bebemoon]

look for the name CASSANDRA (requested by anonymous) | imitation of christ grecian drape front open-sided gown in a stone gray color (s/s 2oo1), { hair } gel-stiffened curled tresses @ yohji yamamoto s/s 2o24, joanne burke handmade hoop earrings, kindred black "rapture in shadow" perfume oil, macabe gadgets "twin moon" crown in gold plate w/ black velour ribbon ties

[hrrtshape]

things that my boyfriend does in my better cr that truly warms my heart ( aka emma yaps about coryo . . again )

i just have to say that like every time i am with him it might as well be raining rose petals because GRAH . i love this man so bad fuck

he steals the hair tie off my wrist mid-conversation just to snap it lightly against my arm. menace behaviour. then kisses the spot he snapped like it's reparations. it's not. but okay.

he uses my perfume when he misses me. pretends it was "accidental" because he was "in a rush" but i literally caught him spritzing it on his pillow. okay scented softboy.

him scribbling my name in the margins of his physics homework.

when i'm sitting on the counter he stands between my knees like it's just. where he belongs. like we're in a 2007 coming-of-age movie starring people with tumblr edits. which we are.

he bought a stupid little charm for my pandora bracelet when he went on a trip without me. i asked why that one. he said "it looked lonely." shut. UP.

he hates when i'm crying, like. goes feral. paces. brings me tea and tissues and then blames the weather. he’ll be like "it's always cloudy when you're sad" like okay shakespeare.

he always knows when i'm cold before i say anything. he'll just silently drape his jacket over my shoulders like it's a cape.

he keeps the receipts from our dates in a box. they're relics. we're going to bury them under a tree one day and kiss above the grave.

he'll grab my wrist when we’re crossing the street. dramatically. we're in a victorian and there’s a carriage hurtling toward me. we're literally on a suburban sidewalk.

he kisses my knuckles. ALL. OF. THEM. slow. one by one.

he makes me playlists with stupid names like "songs for when you're being dramatic (but i love u anyway)" or "music to study the divine tragedy of your smile to" and then says "it's not that deep." shut up it IS.

his mom super duper likes me because i helped carry the groceries once and he hasn't stopped bringing it up like i saved a child from a burning building.

he'll just. rest his head in my lap. no words. he's safe there!!!!!!!!!! that's home.

every time he kisses my temple i lose two years off my life expectancy. every. single. time.

he eats around the onions in my burger. without even saying anything. and then gives me the side-eye like how did you not check for onions.

he always opens my drinks for me. bottle caps, soda cans, vitamin waters. he lives to hear the hiss-pop and hand it to me like some sort of carbonated chalice. boycoded service.

he lets me pop his zits. i don't even want to unpack this one. i think it means we're married.

he pulled a leaf out of my hair and kept it in his wallet. it's still there. crunched and dry and maybe disgusting. romantic rot. ROMANTIC ROT.

every time we're walking past those claw machine games he makes me stop. wins me a plushie.

he saves the voice notes i send him.

he fixed the chain on my necklace with his teeth. we were running late. i was spiralling. and he just said "come here" and bit the clasp back together. yea. yea.

he let me win at chess once and i knew.

if i fall asleep anywhere near him, car, sofa, bench, airport floor, he'll tuck something under my head. his hoodie. his bag. his own arm. i'm never on tile. i'm on love.

i dunno if i ever said that....but yes....he has...indeed....put his jacket over a puddle.

he wrote "ema was here" in the dust on the back of his car. left it there for days. weeks. i checked. he washed everything else. not that. (p.s., i have an obsession with him writing ema instead of emma. just something about that.)

he carries my water bottle like it's his cross to bear but also refills it without me asking. i’m not a girl. i'm a beloved houseplant.

he figured out my coffee order before i told him and now i feel unsafe (in a romantic way).

my phone dies and he lets me use his. like "here. text your mom." and i'm like ??? i'm texting my pinterest mutual actually but thank you!!!

he keeps gum in his glovebox just for me. like i asked once. in january. and now it's always there.

when he walks behind me he'll tuck my tag in.

sings along to my favourite songs under his breath while driving even though he acts like he's too cool for them. you know. he knows every word.

when i wear lip gloss he won't kiss me right away. just stares. and says something stupid like "you're too pretty. it's a trap."

sometimes he picks me up and spins me like we're in a musical. usually in the kitchen. mind you, i'm just trying to get juice.

he learned how to tie a silk ribbon in my hair. doesn't talk about it. just does it when i can't get it right.

once i got mascara in my eye and he said "blink at me. i'll get it out" as if i was a disney princess.

he has my shampoo. doesn't use it. but. it's there. help.

he never lets me carry a takeaway bag. even if it's like. one (1) croissant. "you're not meant to suffer," he'll say, already loading five things into his arms.

he lifts me onto countertops. regularly.

he puts my earrings in his wallet if i take them off.

every time we hold hands he presses his thumb into the back of mine.

if i fall asleep in his bed he'll put socks (his!!!!!) on my feet and act like it's just something that happens.

when i talk about something i love, he looks at me instead of the thing. full eye contact. the whole time. THAT one image from pinterest. you know the one.

when i'm talking and he wants to kiss me, he just. does. mid-sentence.

once when i was crying he wiped my tears and went "you're gonna get dehydrated." (hrrtshape dot com is malfunctioning currently i need a moment)

knows how i take my tea. knows what brand. knows i like the ugly mug.

he put the 'emergency chocolate' in his bag. for me. not himself.

told me he dreams about me. casually. just said it.

when i send a selfie he'll say "come home."

he walks slower when we're holding hands so our steps match. who does that. freak behaviour. soulmate behaviour.

sometimes i catch him just watching me, smiling, and when i ask why he says "nothing." MHMHMMHMHMHMMmmmmmmm.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader Epilogue

"You're getting a vasectomy." Your face screws up in pain, and he sweeps his palm over your damp forehead.

"Okay, mama."

"I'm serious. We're done." Your nurse glances between the two of you with a small smile.

"Alright, are we ready?"

"No," you hiss between clenched teeth, "no, I changed my mind. I want a c-section." You twist his fingers, turning his wrist counter-clockwise, and he bites his tongue. He's never realized how strong your grip is until today.

"You can do it," She encourages and you shake your head, tears on your waterline.

"I c-can't." You groan, turning your face towards his, and he cups your cheek, wiping back and forth.

"You can sweetheart, I know you can. You've been through hell and back, right?" Your lower lip trembles, and then you start shaking, tensing with a contraction.

"Push." She instructs, and even though you're still shaking your head, you listen, curling around your belly as he supports you behind your shoulders. "Good job. Go again."

You do, again and again, and at the top of the hour, when your doctor arrives-

your third child is born.

He's weak at the knees, holding onto the bed as she's put on your chest, screaming and covered in god knows what, but he doesn't think he's seen anything more incredible. More beautiful.

His moon, and another star.

Pyxis. The mariner's compass. 

"Hey baby girl," you're crying and he presses his forehead to your temple, watching as you help rub her down, trying to keep himself under control, trying to swallow his tears.

"She's perfect." There's still a lot of people around, the doctor is still between your legs, nurses disconnecting things, reattaching things, doing who knows what, but in this moment, it's only the three of you. "You did amazing, mama."

"So did you," you look up at him, "good job on not fainting." He kisses you, and cups the back of Pyxis' head. The baby has a blanket over her now, cuddled up on your chest, and he strokes her cheek. "Hey Pyx. Happy Birthday." You sniffle.

"Happy birthday baby."

"Finally managed to show up together at the birth of our kid." You joke, sitting up in the hospital bed, opening your mouth, waiting. He picks another piece of sushi up and deposits in on your tongue. You chew thoughtfully. "Though I guess Nix kind of counts, since I was technically present, you know?"

"I don't count it." He places is thumb in the baby's tiny hand, and her little fingers curl around it. "She's so beautiful."

"I know." She makes a scratchy, growling noise and you rock her a little, settling her back into sleep. You peek at him, and open your mouth again. He smiles. He'd feed you every day, if you let him, especially right now since both your hands are full of Pyx. Just the sight of you, sitting in the bed, holding his baby, makes his heart pound, and he can't help himself from leaning over the bed, pulling you and her into his chest without a word. "I love you," you mumble into his shirt, and he closes his eyes. Thanks the universe for that night in the bar. Thanks whoever was responsible for you being there, thanks heaven and hell for giving him you.

For giving him everything.

"I love you too."

[1-ker0sene-1]

Your blog is like a buffet, thank you 🥺 I would like to maybe put in a wee little request of poly 141 with a reader that has arthritis with pain flare ups maybe, I'm kinda going through it rn with a bad flare

{Thank you for your lovely words and great request! I'm sorry about your flare, I hope it goes down soon!♥️ Take care of yourself pookie♥️ paraffin wax has helped some friends of mine :)}

John notices your flare first. The way you try to breathe through your pain and continue your tasks, eyes close and shudder for a second. His eyes soften and a frown etches on his face. Oh sweet thing, you've done enough. He just wants you to rest. He'll move closer to your side, a hand sliding warmly up your back before holding the nape of your neck. Authoritative, yet in a gentle manner.

"Darlin'?.. you doin' alright?"

He asks, he knows you're not. But whether you tell him you are or not gives him an inside to exactly how much pain you're in.

However no matter how you answer, he's sending you to go rest. Kissing your temple.

"Hm? How about you watch a movie with our boys? I'll take care of dinner.."

His arms wind around your waist, pulling your back into his chest. Kissing on your shoulder. He didn't want you to feel bad for needing a break. Besides the boys waiting on the couch would be more than willing to look after you.

"John you really don't have to worry about it-"

You can hear the creak in his knees as he bends to lift you up. An arm under your knees, and another behind your back. Kissing your cheek, his beard tickling your soft skin.

"We're home now. We can take care of you."

He mumbles. Glancing over as Kyle walks into the kitchen. Tilting his head at the scene.

"Something happen?"

He asks in a bit of alarm, raising his brows. John shakes his head coming over to stand in front of the younger man, holding you up between them. Mindlessly you reach up, skimming your fingers over Kyle's jaw. Who takes your hand gently and kisses your fingertips.

"I'm alright really-"

John sighs at your dismissal. Leaning to kiss Kyle's head just above the brow, explaining to him.

"Flare up.. darlin' will be up in no time. Just needs some rest and care is all."

Kyle hums in acknowledgement, taking you into his own arms. You groan at their dramatics, dolling you around like you can't move at all. But smile as Kyle peppers your cheek in kisses.

"Let's get you to the couch lovie.. I'm sure Johnny will be all too eager to give ya a massage while I get you an ice pack yeah?"

You sigh softly, leaning into his chest as he carries you into the living room. Despite your groaning earlier, it was nice to simply rest. Get the weight off your aching and stiff joints.

"Thank you sweetheart.."

You mumble into him, a smile spreading on his lips.

"Just loving you sweets, nothing any of us wouldn't wanna do."

Coming into the living room around to the couch, Simon sits up stiffly seeing you carried like that. Nearly throwing Johnny off on accident, earning a yelp from the scottsman. Seeing that look of pain threw the blonde man off.

"She alright?"

The question Simon asks makes Johnny blink and sit up as well. Kyle waves them off, slotting you carefully between the two men.

"Flare up."

Is the only words he needs to say. Before both Johnny and Simon envelop you in their arms.

"They're being dramatic- I'm not dying y'know-"

You giggle. Simon chuckles, an arm around Johnny's hips as you lay between them on his chest. Johnny laying almost on you, quite the effective soldier sandwich. Johnny kisses your collarbone. Leaning into the dramatics to cheer you up.

"Our wee lass. How are we ever gettin' by without you?"

He practically purrs. His hands warmly brush over you, serious for a couple seconds.

"Where does it hurt bonnie..?"

As you tell him, he caresses, massages, and feels over each area that you mention to him. Watching you with loving bright eyes. Occasionally leaning down to notch your lips together, swallowing up your groans of comfort. Simon licks his lips watching the both of you, gripping Johnny's mowhawk to pull him back a bit. Kissing him first, sloppy and rough.

You watch the two of them. Pressing a kiss to Johnny's throat from below him, your fingertips skim over Simons arm. When Si disconnects the kiss he leans down to kiss you next, gentle and soft. Moving slow and sweet with you. Now Johnny is watching with a lovestruck grin. Hands still kneading and massaging your aching joints.

Doesn't take long before Kyle walks back in with a couple of ice packs, kissing Simons cheek- which has the blonde pulling back. Just so Kyle can get the next kiss, cheekily pressing his tongue in to run over your mouth. You laugh and pull back when he's had his fun.

"Got your ice baby."

He hums, Simon takes the packs, resting them where Johnny is done massaging.

"Twenty minutes on and off!"

You can all hear John say sternly from the kitchen. Kyle smirks and nudges your shoulder.

"I'll go help the old man with dinner."

He says. You reach out before he can leave, bringing him into some drowning kisses from all three of you on the couch. Kyle finally slips away after a couple minutes of chasing eachothers mouths. Wiping his lips with a dazed smile as he heads back to the kitchen.

Johnny's cheek is on your chest now, cradling the back of his head close to you. Simon is kneading at your hips. Whispering into your hair.

".. We'll get you in a hot bath.. yeah doll? Warm you up.."

His Manchester accent purring in your ear.

"You won't have to move an inch. You take care of everything while we're deployed. Gotta do the same for our girl.."

[riddlesrizzler]

SELECTIVE!mute r w mr

I NEED

1. Animagus reader w mr

2. Sick reader like so sick he's worried

3. Stressed reader

4. Yule ball

5. First argument like heated argument

6. Date night gone wrong

Any one of these or or my most FAVORITE

Setting the scene

We are laying in bed after not getting out of bed for the whole day because it's raining and IRONICALLY ENOUGH we have a pretty window right next to our bed so we're starring out and BOOM INCOMW CANNONBALL WORRIED MATTHEO RIDDLE SNACKS ON SNACKS ON SNACKS MOVIES CUDDLES AND MORE CUDDELS AND GUES WHAT???? MORE CUDDLES IM TALKING IN DEPTH DETAIL OF HOW THE SHEETS FEEL HOW HE SMELLS HOW OUR BREATHING IS IM SYNC THE WAY HE HOLDS US I MEAN COME ON DUDE LIKE PUPPY DOG "ILL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU"

I MEED HIM ON HIS TOES AT ALL TOMES HE NEEDS SOMETHING IM TALKING WHIPPED!!!!!!

But yeah anyone of those will do 🙄😉

Sincerely, Thalia who absolutely adores selective mute!reader with mattheo riddle 💜

THAILIA!!!! YOU'VE GOT MY BRAIN WORKING!!!!!

he would be just sweet and patient with her because he is so used to screaming and fighting and now that there is silence, he is almost confused on how to handle it. my sweet babies!!!!

You sat curled up on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, knees tucked tight to your chest. The sky stretched out above you, wide and endless, but your chest felt small, squeezed tight with everything you couldn’t say.

The words were there-caught in your throat like tangled thread. Too many thoughts, too much pressure, too loud. You didn’t need to be alone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain it either.

The door creaked open behind you, but you didn’t look. You knew his footsteps by now-slow, careful, like he was always trying not to scare you off.

Mattheo didn’t speak. He never did right away. He just sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed, and held out his hand, palm up.

You stared at it for a long moment before slipping your fingers into his. Warm. Steady.

His thumb traced slow circles across the back of your hand. You didn’t have to look at him to know his eyes were watching you-not with pity, but patience. Like he was willing to sit here forever if that’s what you needed.

“You don’t have to talk,” he said quietly. “You don’t even have to think, if it hurts too much. Just… breathe, love. I’ve got you.”

You blinked hard, the pressure in your chest softening just enough to let a tear slip down your cheek.

Mattheo leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “When you’re ready,” he whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

[evilminji]

Hey Minji! A thought for your Star Wars things!

Who ever said the SI-OC was the only one to get dumped in SW? Just. A Creche that has several Reincarnations/Transmigrants.

Oh? My god? Just... the FIRST thing that popped into my head? Was the image of one of those "we are so Unbelievably Overworked We No Longer Fear You Nor Death" Sort of office workers/team of workers(nonspecific)?

Just... fuckin EVERYBODY knows Star Wars. Not everybody focused on the same PART of it, but the DO know it. So OBVIOUSLY? The Force decided it should bring in an A Team.

It Did Not ASK the A Team.

They are... like? 4. And sitting in a soft foam, brightly colored Creche, in their lil Jedi rompers, all sitting in a circle, looking at each other like... ( -_-) (-_- ) you too, huh?

Yeeeeeep. (God does Jerry want a cigarette. Jerry gave them up in his 20s. But he's KINDA GOING THROUGH IT, okay?!) (Sarah is hyperventilating in the corner. Her KIDS! Oh GOD. Her KIDS! She was on the way to pick them up from SOCCOR PRACTICE!!!)

Just? This whole ass team of "yeah, we know the LORE, but buddy, pal, we had LIVES! What the FUCK. Star Wars was a HOBBY!" Type adults? No one is happy and everyone wants to choke the metaphysical concept of The Force with their itty, bitty lil baby hands.

They may RIOT.

And like? Do to sheer NUMBERS? They make up ALMOST a full Creche?

Almost.

There is like... one? Maybe two? Actual Jedi Babies™ in their group? It's A Team... plus our collective children. Whom we parent. The MOST baby of babies. Also the spokesperson when they want to fool anyone into thinking they're "normal".

I want Jerry to have a fake cigarette. He's looked up death sticks and like FUCK is he putting that shit in his body, but dear LORD are the oral fixation and mental effects of a past addiction still both real, and a pain in the ASS.

If you try and TAKE his fake ass, hand made, bespoke not-a-cigarette from his itty bitty lil baby hands? He will take your KNEES. These FUCKERS won't even let him have COFFEE. Let him HAVE THIS. *hisses from the walls*

I want them to be ☆~Nightmare Children~☆

They have the power of The Force, various past life skills, an uninterrupted access to the galaxy's BIGGEST LIBRARY, close proximity to FAR too many senator AND their living spaces, and? An actual negative number of fucks to give. They can take shifts. Tag team. Be creepy, horrible, terrible, God awful nightmare creatures climbing out from your WALLS.

Somehow they keep escaping.

Down through the lower temple as they examine the hidden tunnels and escape routes. Through the vents. Forcing other jedi to become VERY familiar with where those pathways are. Sure hope THAT won't someday save your lives! Ya ungrateful, "you're grounded, stop sneaking out younglings" BASTARDS! So rude!!

The camp out in the Corrie Gaurd office. Bring the babies.

Here, you seem stressed, random gaurd. Hold a Jedi Baby. They radiate sunshine and good vibes. Are literally the Anti-Old-Man-Sith. We brought caffeine and food from the temple. Are willing to follow you around like "adorable ducklings" on patrol under the excuse that we're "training" for when we get our own soilders.

Sure is INCONVENIENT for all these asshole senators to has a witness, huh?

You gaurd my back, I'll gaurd yours. And if a certain long neck trips near the stairs? You didn't see SHIT. I'm BABY. How could I POSSIBLY have the control to do that? Now excuse me... we need to practice our "we Jedi Children can stare into your SOOOOOULS, we See All Your Sins." Wide Eyed Unblinking Predator Stare.

(O.O) (O.O) (O.O)

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

summary: in which best friends, y/n henderson and steve harrington get caught up in their feelings while paranormal activities occur in the small town of hawkins, indiana

cw: fem!reader, I wrote this a long time ago(I apologize for everything cringe), shit writing, first person pov, mentions of death, guns/knifes/weapons in general, mentions of blood/gore, hurt, comfort, angst, 4.1k

<3

The lights start to flicker, as El searches for our missing friends. We all look around the gymnasium in confusion and worry.

"Barbra?" Eleven whispers, as her breathing begins to pick up, faster and faster.

Nancy and I glance at each other worriedly and lean forward over the pool, at the mention of our friend's name.

Eleven gasps before the lights shut off completely.

"What's going on?" Nancy asks, looking up at the lights confused.

"I don't know," Mike responds quietly beside his sister.

"Is Barb okay?" Nancy leans forward even more, trying to ask the girl, "Is she okay?"

"Gone! Gone! Gone!" El cries repeatedly as her body starts to squirm uncontrollably.

Nancy places her hand over her mouth, tears now flooding her eyes as Jonathan pulls her close in comfort. I grab her hand gently, squeezing lightly before letting go, my eyes too, filling with tears.

Barb is dead.

"It's okay, it's okay." Joyce whispers to the girl, "It's okay."

"Gone! Gone!" Eleven continues to cry before Joyce gently grabs her arm comfortingly.

"It's okay, it's okay," She repeats.

"Gone!"

I reach out, gently wrapping my arm around the girl's head, bringing it up to my chest. "Hey. It's okay," I whisper in El's ear, "It's okay, we're right here."

I glance at Joyce.

"We're right here, honey." She says to the panicked girl.

"It's okay, I got you." I repeat as Eleven continues to gasp, "Don't be afraid, I'm right here with you."

The intensity of Eleven's breathing seems to decrease slightly, and I release her, moving back to my spot next to Nancy. She and Jonathan look at me with concerned eyes, I send a reassuring smile back.

"It's okay, it's okay," Joyce repeats after I let go, "It's okay, you're safe. You're okay, honey."

Eleven's breathing finally evens out as she calms down from Joyce's comforting words in the pool before she speaks again.

"Castle Byers."

Joyce whips her head around to Jonathan who looks back with the same look in his eyes. The rest of us glance at each other too.

"Will?" Eleven whispers.

Joyce gasps.

"You tell him... tell him I'm coming." Joyce says desperately, "Mom is coming."

"Hurry." Will whispers weakly from the other end of the walkie-talkie.

We all turn our heads to stare at the radio with shocked expressions. Then switching our faces to a concerned look, we glance back at Joyce and Eleven in front of her as she desperately clings onto the girl.

"Okay. Listen, you tell him... to stay where he is," Joyce stutters panicked, "We're coming. We're coming. We're coming, honey." She adds.

"Will? Will!" We hear El cry through the radio, "Will!"

Joyce and Hopper grip Eleven's trembling hands firmly, trying to provide comfort to the gasping girl. Suddenly, she sits up in the bath, with a sharp breath, yanking off her goggles. All of us are taken aback by the sudden movement as we stare at her in shock.

"Oh! Oh, okay, okay." Joyce holds onto El's body as she breaths heavily, "I've got you."

Eleven starts crying in Joyce's loving arms.

"It's okay. I got you. I got you." Joyce repeats, "I got you, honey. You did so good." She adds reassuringly before kissing El's temple as she continues cry in her arms.

I make eye contact with El as she curls up into a ball. I gently reach out, grabbing her hand and rub reassuringly, telling her that it's going to be alright.

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Nancy and I sit together with our backs pressed against the cold, hard wall. I bring my knees up to my chest, while Nancy simply stares at the wall, lost in thought. A solemn look rests on both of our faces as we mourn the loss of one of our best friends.

Barb didn't deserve to die.

Jonathan eventually joins us, sitting himself down on the other side of Nancy. We all sit there in silence until Nancy speaks up.

"We have to go back to the station." She says simply, making Jonathan and I turn towards her.

"What?" Jonathan asks.

"Your mom and Hopper are just walking in there like bait." Nancy stammers slightly, "That thing is still in there. And we can't just sit here and let it get them, too."

"We can't." She finishes.

Jonathan and I glance at each other before he sighs, "You still wanna try it out?" He asks.

"I wanna finish what we started." Nancy confirms, finally looking at the two of us, "I want to kill it."

Jonathan and I nod before I stand, grabbing both of their hands and pulling them up off the ground. I smirk slightly before speaking.

"Then, lets kill this son of a bitch."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Nancy, Jonathan, and I successfully make it back to the Byer's house after going to the police station and collecting our supplies.

With our boxes and bags in hand, we make our way into the house. We set them down and immediately notice the lights that have been hung up on every square inch of the house. Nancy, Jonathan and I glance at each other before getting to work.

After screwing in all the singular light bulbs, I turn my attention to setting up the bear trap, making a mental note not to trigger it in the process. After spreading around the lighter fluid and leading it directly towards the trap, I grab my crowbar taking a few swings to make sure I'm ready to kill that bitch.

I make my way back over to Nancy and Jonathan, who grabs three knives from the kitchen drawer before walking back over to us and handing one to both Nancy and I.

"Remember." Jonathan says.

"Straight into Will's room. And—" Nancy repeats our plan.

"Don't step on the trap." I finish with my knife hovering over my hand.

"Wait for the yo-yo to move." Nancy continues.

"Then..." Jonathan flips his lighter on showing us the flame before putting it back in his pocket, "Alright. You guys ready?" He asks.

"Ready." Nancy and I nod at the same time.

"On three." Jonathan says as we bring our knifes up to our hands, "One... two..." Jonathan sees Nancy's distressed look before continuing.

"You guys don't have to do this—"

"Jonathan, stop talking." Nancy shakes her head at the boy.

"I'm just saying, you don't have to—"

"Three." I cut him off before slicing my hand while the other two teens follow quickly behind. I wince and shake my hand slightly at the pain of the cut, blood dripping from the gash. Clenching my fist to contain the flow of the blood, I stare at the cut on my hand. "Son of a bitch." I hiss before Jonathan gets some bandages to wrap our hands in.

We all sit on the couch, our hands wrapped in bandages, nursing our injuries. With a look of concern, Nancy gently wraps Jonathan's hand. The look on her face belies her love for him, and Jonathan smiles back with an equally caring look. I stare at the two hoping their bond only gets stronger.

Suddenly, there's a noise from outside, causing all of us to jump slightly.

"Did you hear that?" Nancy asks, looking at the front door and then glancing back at the two of us.

"It's just the wind." Jonathan replies, eyes locked on the door before he looks back at Nancy, "Don't worry. My mom, she said the lights speak when it comes."

"Speak?" I ask, unsure how lights can possibly speak.

"Blink." Jonathan replies turning towards me, "Think of them as alarms."

There's a moment of silence as Nancy continues to do Jonathan's bandage.

"Is that too tight?" She asks finally.

"No, it's fine." Jonathan stammers slightly, "Thanks." He adds, staring at the girl.

"Nancy." Jonathan whispers.

"Yeah?" She replies and they stare at each other for a few more moments.

Suddenly, we all jump up at the loud sounds of banging on the door. We gasp and our heads instantly swivel towards the front door, our senses heightened as we wonder who has just arrived.

"Jonathan!?" I hear someone yell from the other side of the door. "Are you there, man? It's... it's Steve!"

The three of us glance at each other confused.

Why the hell is Steve here?

"Listen, I just wanna talk!" Steve continues banging on the door.

I immediately leap up from my spot next to Nancy and Jonathan and quickly head to the front door, unlocking it slowly and only opening it a little crack. As I do so, I'm met with Steve in front of me, his face still bloodied and bruised. He looks at me with desperate eyes, and I freeze in shock for a second before speaking again.

"Steve, listen to me." I say sternly.

"Hey, (Y/n), what—" Steve starts with a confused look on his face.

"You need to leave." I demand and the boy shakes his head slightly.

"I'm not trying to start anything, okay?" Steve replies sadly looking into my eyes.

"I don't care about that." I say quickly, even though I still care, very much, "You need to leave." I place my bandaged hand on his chest ushering him to go.

"No, no, no." Steve says desperately, grabbing my hand and placing it in his, "Listen, I-I-I messed up, okay?" He stammers slightly, "I messed up. I messed up. Okay?"

"Really. Please." I search his eyes for sincerity that I find clear as day, "I just want to make things right." He admits with a sigh.

"Okay? Please. Please..." He continues and my eyes soften as he begs me to let him in.

That's when he finally notices my hand in his.

"Hey, what happened to your hand? Is that blood?" Steve asks softly, stroking my hand in his own.

"Nothing. It was an accident." I yank my hand out of his, placing it back to my side.

"Yeah, what's going on?" Steve asks sincerely concerned for my well-being.

"Nothing." I answer a little too quickly.

Rage fills Steve's eyes and he glances behind me. "Wait a sec. Did he do this to you?" He says referring the Jonathan as he attempts to push his way into the house.

"No." I reply, putting my hand on his chest again.

"(Y/n), let me in." Steve says pushing against me.

"No! No! No, Steve!"  I can't hold him back and he stumbles into the house before freezing.

All three of us stare at him as he looks around the trap-filled home.

"What is... What the..." Steve finally spots Nancy standing next to Jonathan, "Nancy?"

"You need to get out of here." She says to him before Jonathan runs up to Steve attempting to push him back out the door.

"Whoa, what is all—"

"Listen to me. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you, get out of here," Jonathan continues pushing Steve who just pushes back.

"What is that smell?" Steve says frantically, "Is that... is that gasoline?"

"Steve, get out." Nancy says firmly, pointing the gun straight at Steve's head.

"Wait. What?! What is going on?!" Steve yells, glancing at all three of us.

"You have five seconds to get out of here." Nancy says, cocking the gun.

"Okay, is this a joke?" Steve says glancing at me, holding my gaze, "(Y/n)..." He whispers towards me and I give in.

"Nance, put the gun down." I say gently, putting my hand on her shoulder.

"I'm doing this for you." Nancy replies ignoring my request.

"Hold on, hold on." Steve repeats, before the lights above our heads start to flicker uncontrollably.

"Nancy." Jonathan and I whisper, glancing at one another.

"Wait. Is this a... What is this?" Steve continues to question as I grab my crowbar bringing it up to attack position.

"Whoa, (Y/n), what are you doing with that?" Steve asks as I stand next to his defenseless self.

"Protecting your sorry ass," I reply shortly.

"Nancy." Jonathan repeats trying to grab the girl's attention.

"Three. Two." Nancy begins to count down.

"No, no, no! No, no!" Steve yells putting his hands up.

"Nancy!" Jonathan yells again, finally able to grab the girl's attention, "Nancy! The lights."

"It's here." I say quietly as we all stare at the lights.

"Wait, what's here?" Steve asks.

"Where is it?" I ask spinning around with my crowbar in hand.

"Where is what?" Steve asks before having to duck under my crowbar, "Whoa, easy with that!"

Nancy, Jonathan, and I stand back to back as we slowly spin around in a circle, searching for the demogorgon.

"Where is it?" Nancy asks frantically.

"I don't know." Jonathan replies with the same tone.

"I don't see it." I say, glancing at Steve again.

"Where is what?!" Steve asks again, continuing to freak out, "Hello? Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on—"

Before Steve can finish his sentence the monster starts breaking through the ceiling, causing debris to fall on us.

Nancy raises her gun and begins shooting at the creature as it falls through the ceiling.

"No!" Jonathan yells grabbing Nancy and pulling her towards Will's room, "Go! Go! Run! Go!"

"Get out of here!" Jonathan yells towards Steve.

I stupidly stand my ground.

With my crowbar raised and ready to swing, I see the Demogorgon advancing towards me, and before I can react and defend myself, Steve grabs my waist and pulls me back against his chest with unexpected force. He quickly reaches into my back jean pocket and pulls me into towards Will's room.

"Jump!" Jonathan yells back toward us.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Steve repeats placing me in front of him so that I'm further away from the creature.

He keeps his hands securely planted on my hips as we jump over the bear trap and yo-yo string before rushing into Will's room, slamming the door behind us. We all stand breathily heavily, our hearts beating rapidly as our adrenaline pumps through our veins.

"Jesus! Jesus! What the hell was that?!" Steve yells again, frantically whipping his head around to each of us, "What the hell was that?!"

"Steve." I grab his face, making him look at me. "Shut up!" He shuts his mouth immediately, glancing at my lips. I scoff and push is face away from mine, still angry at him.

With my crowbar firmly in hand, I turn towards Nancy and Jonathan, standing behind them. We stay there, in Will's room, with our weapons raised and ready to strike. We wait, nervously, for our plan to work, but nothing seems to be happening. The silence is deafening and we're left to wonder if our plan has failed.

"Do you hear anything?" Nancy asks us as the lights flicker one last time.

"No." Jonathan and I reply as I lower my crowbar and Jonathan closes his lighter.

We are all careful and cautious as we slowly exit Will's room, before Steve takes my hand and gently walks out with me, staying by my side.

As we make our way through the hallway towards the living room, there's nothing but silence. We walk around confused, with our weapons raised. I feel Steve let go of my hand and I turn to see him running a hand through his hair.

"This is crazy..." Steve mutters to himself behind me, "This is actually crazy."

"This is crazy! This is crazy!" He continues, "This is crazy!" Steve rushes towards the phone on the wall, attempting to call the proper authorities. Nancy walks over to Steve and yanks the phone off the wall.

"What are you do—" Steve is cut off by Nancy smashing the phone, preventing the boy from using it, "What are you doing? Are you insane?"

"It's going to come back! So you need to leave!" Nancy yells in Steve's face, "Right now." She demands.

Steve turns towards me and I give him a little nod, confirming that he needs to get out of here. He rummages through his jean pockets for his car keys as be rushes out the front door.

As soon as Steve leaves the lights start flicking again, and I raise my crowbar once more.

"Where is it?" Nancy asks as we continue to spin around while the lights flash causing my vision to go hazy.

"Come on." Jonathan whispers, "You see it?" He asks us.

"No." Nancy replies whimpering slightly.

"Where are you... Come on you son of a bitch." I whisper before the lights shut off completely.

I hear a low growl approaching from behind Jonathan and turn to the origin of the sound, only to come face-to-face with the monster. It's standing there, creeping towards Jonathan while he remains unaware of its presence.

"Jonathan!" Nancy yells, warning the boy before the monster launches at him.

"Holy shit! Jonathan!" I yell as Jonathan drops his weapon, leaving him struggling as the creature crawls on top of him.

Nancy cocks her gun before desperately trying to shoot the creature who's laying on top of Jonathan. It's drool dripping down the boy's face.

"Go to hell you son of a bitch!!" I shout before using all my strength to swing my crowbar at the creature. My crowbar somehow gets stuck in the monster's slimy body, which causes me to stumble backwards in surprise. Leaving me defenseless, I watch in horror as the Demogorgon slowly and deliberately approaches, my eyes locked on its every move as it draws closer to me.

Suddenly, Steve appears out of nowhere, with the bat that Jonathan previously made. It's shiny nails catching the flickering light as he swings towards the monster who's stalking towards me. With a loud thwack and a grunt from Steve, the bat connects with the monster's face, leaving it slightly stunned.

He came back.

"Steve!" I shout worriedly attempting to reach towards him as he continues whacking the creature.

Steve effortlessly spins the bat around his hand a few times before brutally hitting the monster again, sending it stumbling back into the bear trap.

"He's in the trap!" Steve yells, noticing the yo-yo string release, "He's stuck!"

"Jonathan, now!" I yell at the boy with the lighter.

We stand together at the end of the hallway, watching as Jonathan flicks his lighter open, sending the monster up in flames. Its body writhing in pain, the creature's shrieks getting louder and louder while the flames consume it. I feel Steve grab my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as his bruised fingers lace with mine.

I glance at Steve and catch his eye, feeling a flutter in my stomach and warmth in my heart. I notice Nancy send me a pointed look with causes my cheeks to flush.

He's so infatuated by you and you don't even notice.

I quickly let go of Steve's hand, turning back to the monster with guilt and confusion in my heart. Steve's eyebrows are slightly furrowed, his own expression now filled with confusion as he comprehends my actions and glances back to the creature. I try to ignore the awkwardness of the moment and to focus on the screeching Demogorgon in front of us.

"Get back!" Jonathan yells to us as he grabs the fire extinguisher and puts the fire out in front of us. Not wanting to burn his whole house down.

We all cough as the dust fills the space, our eyes watering before the hallway begins to clear. We start to make our way slowly and carefully down the hallway, our senses heightened as we search for any sign of the monster. However, to our surprise, the creature is gone.

"Where did it go?" I ask, my breathing heavy as I turn towards each of my friends.

"No. It has to be dead." Jonathan pants, "It has to be."

But there's nothing there.

Out of nowhere, the lights above our heads seem to flicker on. Leading us somewhere.

We hesitatingly follow them through the house before Jonathan speaks.

"Mom." He whispers, "Is that you?"

"Mom?"

We follow the flickering lights outside, the street light being our next stop. I stand on the porch between Jonathan and Steve, who is still carrying around the nailed bat for protection.

"Where is it going?" Nancy asks softly.

"I don't think that's the monster." I say just as softly as the three of them glance at me. Jonathan then speaks.

"That's my mom."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

We all make it back to the school, where police cars are waiting. Apparently a whole thing with the kids and Eleven went down while we were gone.

When I see Dustin I immediately rush over to him, engulfing him in a giant hug. I stroke his curly hair as I silently cry.

"Hey, I'm okay." Dustin says, trying to comfort me.

After I let go of my brother, he trails behind me, as I search for the others. As I notice everyone being held and comforted by their families, I start to feel like something, someone is missing. The sudden realization hits me like a ton of bricks and I turn to my brother, with panic and grief washing over me.

"Dust, where's El?" I ask, my voice shaking and I already know what might have happened.

"She's... She's gone." My brother whispers, sitting down on the back of the ambulance before grabbing my hand and giving it a tight squeeze.

I instantly let out a broken sob, the tears flowing down my cheeks like a river of grief. My hand shakily reach for them, trying to wipe the tears away, but the relentless stream seems unstoppable. I can't bring myself to sit down, and my knees go weak in agony as I try to process.

Eleven is gone.

Steve approaches me silently with his hands shoved in his pockets, his loving eyes filled with sympathy as they watch me cry. Without a word, he softly reaches out his arms, offering me a hug. Without a second thought, I give in, letting my previous anger fade away as I cling tightly to his back, seeking his comfort and protection. My brother watches with sadness, but all of my attention is focused on Steve as I bury my face in his chest and cry. His strong arms comfort me, holding me closely as I continue to sob, his touch soothing my trembling body.

I slowly pull away from his embrace, silently watching as his gaze rests upon me with sadness. Steve gently brings his hand up towards my cheek, hesitating caressing it with care. I find myself leaning towards his touch, a small smile playing on my lips as our eyes lock. Steve eventually brings his hand back down to his side, leaving my cheek feeling cold without his warmth.

"Do you guys need a ride?" Steve finally speaks, glancing between Dustin and I.

I just nod my head.

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

The car ride home is silent except for the tapping of Steve's fingers on the steering wheel. I stare out the passenger side window, watching the street lights as we drive by.

Steve pulls into my driveway, putting the car in park, before turning his gaze towards me. Immediately, Dustin hops out of the car, disappearing inside the house. I watch from outside as the lights come on and the silhouettes of my mother and brother come into view, locked in a sweet embrace. I heart fills with a mixture of hope, sadness, and pain as I watch.

"Hey (Y/n), you okay?" Steve asks, grabbing my hand from across the center console.

"Yeah, Steve. I think so." I say glancing at the boy, smiling slightly, and this time I actually mean it.

Steve gently releases my hand, his eyes locked with mine as he gives me a small, loving smile and a nod. I exit his car, looking back at him one last time, sending him a little wave before entering my house, closing the door behind me.

I enter only to be greeted with my sweet mother, who embraces me tightly in a warm and compassionate hug, while apologizing profusely for not being at the school to pick us up. Despite her guilt and sorrow, I reassure her that I'm fine, trying my best to put her at ease and hold myself together. Once I make my escape to my room, I sit down on my bed, trying to process everything that had happened in these past few days. The terror, the hurt, the sadness, the confusion that has been so overwhelming. I finally come to three conclusions.

We found Will.

We lost Eleven.

It’s all over.

<3

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[silvercap]

if ur still taking prompts :3 “silent fury” but make it h/c? maybe one of leon’s boys goes on a “rampage” to save him orrr maybe someone is angry at the dso for almost killing him again or ya know whatever strikes your fancy

OHHHH I LIKE THIS!! (Prompts)

7. Silent Fury

Chris coughs frantically as the gas invades his lungs, throwing his oxygen-starved body at the sealed metal laboratory door with enough force that he can practically feel his shoulder bruising upon impact. Beside him, Leon sags against the wall with half-lidded eyes, gun hanging from limp fingers.

"Fight it," Chris chokes, but Leon's body has already succumbed, knees buckling beneath him as he collapses bodily to the floor and doesn't move again. Chris grits his teeth, ignoring another wave of dizzy lightheadedness in order to redouble his assault against the locked door. The room has no other exit, round and filled with glass tanks that Chris can't make out when his vision is blurring so badly but knows are filled with half-formed specimens suspended in bubbling liquid. The green glow makes him nauseous, casting the walls and his skin alike in eerie neon.

Chris throws himself into the wall with one last desperate effort and drops to his knees, heaving for air. His throat hurts from breathing in chemicals and god knows what else, muscles aching and spasming as it attacks his body. Leon doesn't move when Chris drops the rest of the way to lie beside him, weakening arms reaching out to scoop up the other man and pull his unconscious body close. Chris presses their foreheads together and blacks out an instant later.

-~-

When Leon wakes, it's to harsh light and a hand in his air, eyelashes fluttering as he struggles to make sense of the figures towering around him. An experimental shift reveals that his hands have been tied behind him, the hardness of a chair pressing into his back as his head is stretched backwards to expose his throat. He coughs.

"With us, again?" an accented voice drawls, one of the figures stalking towards him to reveal a tall man in militaristic clothes, a blade in his hand. Flinty eyes stare Leon down as he tries and fails to think of who this wannabe tough-guy could possibly be, the man's calloused fingers twining around the knife in a delicate way that reminds Leon of Krauser and his knife tricks---and tells him that the man knows how to handle it. He leans in close, drawing the sharp tip very gently down the curve of Leon's bottom lip. "We're very pleased to have you as our guests today, Mr. Kennedy."

He grins, letting the knife follow the natural line of Leon's jaw and down to a collarbone, where he presses into the skin just enough to make a bead of blood bubble between Leon's clavicles. Leon rolls his eyes. "Is this supposed to be scaring me? Get on with it, will you?"

The man laughs, standing upright. "It's not you that I'm trying to scare." He shifts away so that Leon can see past him into the dingy, cement-floored room he's been placed in---and the other chair several feet in front of his own, one Chris Redfield secured to it with rope around his wrists and ankles. There's blood on his temple, eyes blazing dark with silent rage that would be terrifying if only he weren't looking at Leon with such tender concern at the same time. Leon feels his blood run cold.

"Chris?" he calls. "Don't give them what they want. I'm trained for this, alright? Don't fucking tell---"

A hand grabs Leon's chin with force, a thumb shoved between his lips before he even registers what's happening. He thrashes, about to bite down, before a blow to the side of the face distracts him. Leon reels, attempting to kick one of his bound legs towards the large man who'd been brandishing the knife, but it's no use. He's the one holding Leon's jaw, a large wad of cloth in his other hand. It's all too easy for him to jam it hard into Leon's mouth, pushing so much fabric in that Leon, well, gags.

His eyes water as duct tape is wrapped far too tightly over his lips and around the back of his head, clinging to his cheeks and sparking a wave of panic at the claustrophobic feeling before he forces himself to exhale slowly through his nose. He's okay. He's faced worse. It's going to be---

"Lets begin," the man drawls, and plunges his blade deep into the flesh of Leon's thigh without warning.

Leon doesn't even try to hold back his cry.

He's not sure how long they torture him for, just that the world quickly goes foggy and distant with pain, shouting voices demanding things that Leon can't give. He can't see Chris through the hair that's fallen over his eyes as he lolls his head to his chest and heaves for breath, the wounds on his body, broken fingers, and ribs pulsing in time with his thundering heart. His cheekbone aches where a particularly nasty hook had split the skin, nose damp with blood that makes it even harder to breathe properly. The gag fills his mouth, saliva dampening the heavy fabric and muffling his pathetic whimper of pain as the man who's been beating the shit out of him offers one last slap to the side of the head.

Chris has been yelling incoherently for the past few minutes, but Leon can't hear his voice anymore. Maybe they gagged him, too.

"I'm tired of this, Redfield," the man says, a flash of metal the only warning Leon gets before the edge of his knife is up against Leon's throat, putting pressure on his trachea that makes him cough. The man digs in harder in response, the bright sting of Leon's skin splitting open on the blade's edge enough to make him wince. "Agree to the terms, or I cut his---"

There's a commotion that Leon can't make sense of, the blade leaving his throat so that he can suck in a relieved gasp of air. His eyelids flutter. Fuck, he's tired.

"Leon?" Leon can't open his eyes to see who's calling his name, the fear in their voice nearly tangible. They're talking fast, panicked. Chris, it has to be. Hands tug at the duct tape on his face, an effort that doesn't accomplish much more than wrenching Leon's aching neck. "Leon, don't do this to me. Leon? Open your eyes, Leon."

Pain spikes as Leon obeys, the harsh light upsetting the headache that had exploded into being three or four punches in. Chris's worried gaze appears before him, haloed in the glow.

"Good, that's it. Eyes on me, okay?" His voice is calm, collected, but Leon can hear that he's on the verge of tears, blood shivering down Chris's wrists as he carefully slices open the tape and peels it quickly from Leon's face. His hair is wild, eyes sharp with anger, but his touch is nothing but gentle. Even when Leon grimaces as his hair pulls free of its follicles, he's careful. "I've got you, I've got you."

Leon spits out the gag before Chris can even get to that point, the rag falling into his lap as he coughs and heaves for breath. He's dimly aware that he's trembling, but Leon's certain it's too small of a detail to notice. That is, until Chris pauses in his ministrations to run soothing hands up and down Leon's arms, leaning their foreheads together.

"It's okay. It's okay," he soothes, something dark stealing into his tone. "I took care of them. Let me deal with these cuts and I'll untie you, okay? I've got you."

Leon glances to his left and sees a growing pool of blood. He swallows, letting his eyes fall shut as Chris puts pressure on the deep gouge in his leg. "I trust you," he rasps, and means it.

[b0n3s-is-gay]

One in the Same - Pre and Post BB Danse Head Cannons

If this is pre Blind Betrayal, he'd shoot and kill you point blank because you alone are a monster. Machine and flesh were never meant to mingle like what happened with you. YOU are a monster created by humanities brightest and humanitites stupidest.

It doesn't matter if how he finds out and when he finds out, pre BB, he's going to kill you. Your relationship doesn't matter, how you hid in plain sight doesn't matter. What matters is that you're dead.

He'll confront you at one of the settlements you live at, probably at the Red Rocket Truck Stop.

"Hands up Synth!" Danse shouted as he lifted his rifle up to level with your head. You dropped your knife as you slowly raised your hands. "You thought you could lie to us, to worm your way into the Brotherhood?!"

"Danse, you don't know what you're talking about... You don't know anything..." You tried to beg as he pressed the barrel against your temple. "I'm human, human as the day I was born..."

"That is bullshit... You're a synth, a machine made to do and not to feel. Your kind disgusts me...." Danse sneered as he pushed you onto your knee, staring down with disgust. "You're an abomination..."

Then, he pulls the trigger with no hesitation. It felt like he killed a part of himself, but it was for the better of the Brotherhood. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Post BB is a completely different story. You're both downstairs of Listening Post Bravo. It's quiet, the institute is gone. Wiped from the face of the ugly, ugly earth.

You're sitting next to Danse as he stares at his holotags around your neck, the armor that was once his is now yours. You hold a holotape in you hand and you're tapping it against your Pip-boy.

Danse is sitting on a desk, his new power armor in the corner, missing the flare of the BoS paint job. It's quiet, neither of you are talking, just the soft sound of your radio and the tapping of the holotape against your Pip Boy.

Then he hears you starting to talk, the sound of the tape finally entering the Pip Boy catches his attention.

"When we launched our attack on the institute, when we blew it open with Liberty Prime...." You started, focusing on the holotape, your hands shaking as you got ready to hit play. "I found my son, my boy... The man that made you...."

Danse raised an eyebrow but he stayed quiet and motioned for you to go on. "I'm listening..." He muttered as he watched your face.

"He was sick, dying... He knew that he was going to die and that my face would be the last on he'd ever see..." You clicked through the holotape options. "He gave me a holotape before I shot him, killing and granting him mercy."

"A holotape? What's on it?" Danse asked as he stood up, crossing the room over to you. "Why'd he give it to you..?"

You sucked in a deep breath, you chest feeling tight as you pressed play.

"This is Shaun, aged 37, head of the institute. I've been reading up on what happened in the vault, the death of my parents I mean." The voice started, announcing his name and age. "I had someone go out to the Vault, Vault 111, and they came back reporting that there were no signs of life. My mother, the last survivor, had died in the Cryogenic stasis."

Danse's lips pressed into a thin line, what did it mean dead? You were standing right in front of him, fine and breathing. You weren't dead.

"I had someone retrieve the body, bringing her back to the institute. Her hippocampus was still intact, still holding her memories and in perfect condition due to the stasis. So I did something I may regret, but I must see this through... Mankind redefined." The tape then cut off, promting you to click the next play button.

"This is Shaun, aged 40, Father of the Institute. It's been 3 years, trial and error with P0-01 through P2-47. We did it and we're sending her back to the vault. P2-48 has been activated and the memories of my mother are instilled within her. We'll be seeing to what she does after she's been released in 20 years and allowed to roam free to do as she wishes." Shaun spoke calmly, the clatter of keyboards sounded from the background of the tape.

"I'm ready to see what this experiment does, who they become. This is Shaun Signing out. I hope I meet P2-48 some day, maybe she'll be like my mother. But that's enough." The tape went dead. Danse looked over at you, shocked.

"You're.. You're-" Danse started before you cut him off. "I'm a Synth, yes. So... We're both Synths and our lives are upside down..."

He nodded softly before standing up. "I haven't told the Brotherhood, so I'm still a human in their eyes. It's for the better..."

[sosa2imagines]

Broken Hearts. Part 11

Warnings- Slight captive situation, threats, manipulation, touching without consent, revelations.

MJ and Peter pressed their ears closely to the door, straining to catch any sounds from outside the office.

“Can you hear anything?” MJ whispered anxiously, her eyes flickering towards Peter.

Peter remained focused, his ear pressed firmly against the door. “Trying to...” he murmured back, concentrating on any faint sounds that might filter through.

Lloyd and Nick As Lloyd navigated through dense traffic, anger and impatience were written all over his face. Nick's voice filled the car, his words tinged with annoyance and the remnants of a hangover.

“I know we're in a hurry, and you can keep driving like a madman, without blaring the horn every five seconds!” Nick grumbled, massaging his temples.

Lloyd gripped the steering wheel tighter, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “This traffic sucks. Move it, you shit heads!” he muttered under his breath, his frustration mounting.

Meanwhile at the café-

You sat uncomfortably squished between Bucky and Steve, your body tensed and on guard.

Bucky attempted to touch you, but you promptly slapped his arm away. Steve smirked, thinking he could do the same, but your glare shut him down immediately.

“DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!” you yelled firmly, your words echoing through the room and filling Peter and MJ with worry.

Bucky and Steve only smirked in response. Steve grabbed your hand, his grip tight, while Bucky's hand moved to your knee, pinning you in place.

You struggled against their grip, your voice filled with anger and defiance. “Let me go!” you shouted, tugging against their hold.

Steve responded in a condescending tone, a smug smile on his face. “No can do, baby doll.”

You snapped back, your voice filled with a bitter edge. “Steve, we are divorced. Go to your Peggy. Leave me alone. Isn't this what you wanted?”

“And James…aaaahh” Bucky's grin widened as he squeezed your knee with a tight grip, his hand sending a jolt of discomfort through you when you called him by his first name with gritted teeth.

“Bucky why are you even here?” Bucky responded with a smile, his tone nonchalant. “To bring you back home doll.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief at their audacity. “Home? I'm not going anywhere with you two!” you hissed, trying to free yourself from their grasps.

Bucky's hand remained firmly on your knee, his grip possessive. “See, as soon as you left, Steve called me,” he began, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. “I had to make things right. It was part of our agreement.”

You looked at Bucky in confusion, your anger momentarily replaced by curiosity. “Agreement?”

Bucky's grip on your knee tightened, causing you to wince slightly. His gaze held a mix of determination and possessiveness.

“Yes, you see, I knew Steve loves you...” Bucky continued. “I love you too.”

You shook your head vehemently, your anger flaring at his audacity. “You mean loved. It’s past tense!” you spat, your voice laced with hurt and frustration.

Bucky locked eyes with you, his gaze intense. “No, doll. You're still my girl and Steve’s wife.” he stated firmly.

You turned your gaze towards Steve, your expression hardening. “No, we are not,” you repeated emphatically. “Steve and I are divorced, and you broke up with me!”

Steve remained silent, his expression unreadable as he observed the exchange between you and Bucky.

Bucky's tone was casual as he continued to hold you captive, his words cutting deep into your heart.

“No, doll,” he said, his grip firmly on your knee. “You see, I knew I had to leave for London. I had eventually planned on sharing you with Steve since his heart was broken by Peggy. But this punk started to like you even more.”

Humiliation washed over you, your eyes blinking rapidly as you fought back tears. You refused to give Bucky the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had wounded you.

Bucky's smirk widened as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the power he held over you.

Your heart ached at the realization that you had been treated like a possession, passed between two men who thought they had the right to control your life.

Bucky's smirk grew even wider as his eyes roamed over your body, lingering on certain parts. “You are so good in bed, doll...” he murmured, his tone filled with a lecherous intent. “The best I ever had. Even with Dot, I used to think about you.”

Your face flushed with anger and embarrassment, your fists clenching tight. Yet, Bucky's words struck a chord deep within you, reminding you of the past.

He continued, his voice thick with desire. “I had told Steve to take it slow, as soon as I leave. And come on, you have to agree. He was good, that's why you married him.”

Your eyes widened in shock as Bucky revealed their twisted plans. Turning to Steve, your voice trembling with hurt, you asked, “Did... did you even love me or was it fake?”

Steve's expression softened, genuine emotion in his voice as he replied, “Of course I loved you. Hell, I still love you. You’re mine, baby doll.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his possessiveness evident making Steve roll his eyes in annoyance. “I mean, ours,” he corrected.

Your heart sank at Bucky's interjection, the truth of their arrangement hitting you like a punch to the gut. Steve may have loved you, but his love was tainted by their agreement.

“So, I was just a toy shared between you two?” You asked, your voice laced with hurt and anger. “A prize to be won?”

“You were more than that, baby doll.” Steve replied, his tone almost convincing. “We both cared about you. It was just a unique situation.” Your anger flared at Steve's nonchalant response, your hands clenching into fists.

You confronted Steve, anger and hurt evident in your voice. “If you love me, why did you cheat on me?”

Steve responded with a defensive tone, his arrogance showing through. “I did not cheat on you on purpose. It was revenge, okay?” he whined, annoyance clear in his voice. “Peggy hurt my feelings. She always played with my feelings. I'm just teaching her a lesson.”

You shot back, your voice filled with frustration. “How? By letting her warm your bed? How is it a punishment? It's not like she isn't enjoying it.”

Steve spoke with a hint of malice in his voice, his arrogance evident. “I know she's with me because of my money and status. I was going to prove to her husband what a slut she is, and when he leaves her, she'll crawl back to me. Then, I'll give her the boot. She'll get what she sows, enough to teach her a lifelong lesson.”

You interrupted his tirade with a question, your expression filled with disbelief. “And how are you going to prove it?”

Steve simply stared at you in awe, his face saying it all. “Oh god, you have tapes…” you realized, your voice thick with disgust.

Steve smiled knowingly, his gaze fixed on you as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. You flinched at his unexpected gesture, your heart filled with a mixture of anger and betrayal.

“That's your answer for everything, huh?” you accused. “Tapes to teach lessons and threaten others.”

Steve's smile remained fixed on his face, refusing to answer your question. You shook your head in frustration, turning your attention to Bucky instead.

“Why did you record us without my consent?” you demanded.

Bucky's nonchalant response only fueled your anger. “Doll, that was just for fun, and it was also a gift for punk.” he replied matter-of-factly. “You see, he lost some confidence with the whole Peggy thing, so I gave him a gift.”

Steve chimed in, his excitement evident. “Baby doll, you were amazing in that. I jerked for days just imagining you.”

Steve's enthusiasm got the better of him as he continued, “Bucky absolutely loved watching us together.”

Your eyes widened as you processed Steve's words. “Wh...what do you mean?” you stammered, your heart racing. “Did...did you record us too?” Steve sheepishly smiled, shaking his head no. “No, baby doll,” he assured you.

You recalled Ari's words about Steve frequently video calling Bucky, and your eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why did you video call Bucky a lot?” you demanded, confronting Steve.

Steve's smile widened as he revealed the reason, he had been so eager to speak with Bucky. “Oh, you know,” he began, his voice dripping with insinuation. “Just to... get a glimpse of you. To see your beautiful face.”

Your eyes widened in shock, struggling to form words as Steve's revelation sunk in. “W…wh...what do you mean, Steve?” you managed to sputter out, your voice trembling, hoping you misunderstood him.

Bucky chimes in, complaining irritably. “You just had to open your big mouth, huh? Could have lessened the details...” Steve just chuckled, unapologetic. “Oops,” he replied, not seeming to grasp the gravity of what he had just confessed.

You looked at Steve, pleading expression on your face. “Steve, please...” He shrugged, nonchalant. “Bucky was missing us, so I video called him,” he explained, as if it were perfectly normal.

You couldn't contain your anger at his audacity. “During our intimate moment, what the hell is wrong with you?” you shouted, your voice filled with disbelief and disgust.

Steve grabbed your chin hard, his expression hardening as he reprimanded you. “Watch your tone with me, Y/n,” he warned. “And stop being ungrateful. He is your boyfriend.”

You shot back, your voice laced with anger. “Ex-boyfriend.” you spat out, making it clear you no longer considered him as such.

Bucky interjected, his tone firm. “No, doll. We never broke up. I only said I was moving to London.”

You wrenched your chin free from Steve's grip and turned to look at Bucky, your anger and sadness evident. “You left the country!” you exclaimed. “That means breaking up. How the hell were we still in a relationship?”

Bucky responded matter-of-factly, his tone unwavering. “Video calls, doll. Whenever Steve got a chance, he would video call me. God, it felt so real, be it in the showers or any part of the house.”

Steve blushed, clearly taken aback by Bucky's compliment. Meanwhile, a few tear drops trickled down your face, your heart growing heavier with each passing moment.

Bucky watched you with a smirk, his tone smug yet playful. “Aww, don't cry, doll,” he said. “You were amazing. In fact, I called your name when I came inside Dot. That bitch got hurt and left, but I don't care. I have my girl back with me.” Bucky smiled bashfully, as if his words held no weight or meaning.

You looked at Bucky, your expression filled with a mixture of hurt and anger. “How come I'm your girl, when you were with someone else?” you demanded.

Bucky chuckled, clearly amused by your question. “Doll, don't be like that,” he responded. “You and Steve were there together. What about my needs? Come on, doll. You can understand. And now that I'm back, you'll have my undivided attention all the time.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, his lips lingering on your skin.

You were exhausted, drained of all energy to continue arguing or discussing further. You silently prayed for Lloyd, hoping he would appear and rescue you from this strange and uncomfortable situation.

The explanations and confessions from Bucky and Steve were overwhelming, and you longed for the stability and peace that Lloyd provided in your life.

Steve suddenly took his phone out and handed it to Bucky with a firm instruction. “Buck, click our picture and send it to her lawyer,” he said. “Tell him to forward it to Lloyd, let them know we are back together.”

You protested, adamantly refusing to be part of their twisted plan. “No, we are not back together!” you insisted.

Steve and Bucky shared a satisfied look between them, their plans seemingly falling into place. “Wonderful idea, Stevie,” Bucky chimed in, his voice filled with excitement. “You kiss on one side, and I'll kiss on the other.”

They both leaned in and planted kisses on either side of your face, their lips lingering for a moment and captured the picture.

“Smile for the camera, doll.” Bucky urged, ignoring your protests. They sent the picture to Andy, instructing him to forward it to Lloyd.

You tried to warn them with a shaky voice, “Lloyd will kill you both.” Bucky chuckled mocking your words “Lloyd will kill you both.”

Bucky's hand slowly crept up your thigh, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You clutched his hand, desperately trying to halt his movement, but he just smirked and stopped mid-thigh, continuing to caress your skin with his thumb, and began kissing your neck, his lips trailing along your skin.

“God, I have missed you so much, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You pleaded with him to stop, your voice quivering with vulnerability. “Please... please stop,” you whispered, but it fell on deaf ears.

Lloyd and Nick

Nick's phone rang, and he picked up, sounding somewhat distracted. “Barber, what's up? I'm kinda busy.” he said into the phone.

Andy's voice came through the line. “Is Lloyd with you?” he asked. “Yes.” Nick replied.

“Tell him to check his phone, Y/n is with Rogers and Barnes.” Andy instructed.

Nick paused, processing the information before responding, “We know. We're on our way.” “Just check his phone, it is urgent.” Andy tells him.

“Okay, we'll check it now.” Nick then hung up the phone and turned to Lloyd, asking him for his phone.

Lloyd was driving, but he slowed down when Nick shared the message Andy had passed on from Steve.

“What did he want?” Lloyd asked, his expression growing concerned. “He said Steve sent him something, telling him to forward it to you,” Nick explained.

Lloyd's eyes widened in shock as Nick showed him the photo on his phone. “What the hell!?” he exclaimed, stopping the car abruptly in the middle of the road.

“He has the audacity to say they're back together!” Nick added, anger seeping into his voice.

Lloyd clenched his jaw, his expression dark and determined. “I'm going to chop them in pieces.” he growled, anger seething beneath his calm exterior.

“Just few minutes, Sugar. I'm coming.” he added, the promise in his voice unwavering.

Part 10- Part 12

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

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@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah

[the-kr8tor]

Screw it. Imma be the first to do it (maybe, lol)

Got a request for Aaron, pookie. Aaron introducing us to his nephew, who definitely came in disturbing a romantic at home dinner between you two. But you don't mind, the kid is cute and it's about time you met him anyways. You decide to bond with him the way his uncle does. Spray painting and good music.

Much love, Katy. Stay healthy❤️

Thank you for the cute request!! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Aaron Davis x fem! Reader/ Prowler x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, cw alcohol mention, cw food mention, fluff!

Navigation

Soft jazz plays through the recorder in the corner, candle light spreads through the apartment while the scent of pasta and garlic bread permeates the air. Rain paints the windows in dappled watercolor lights, the outside world a mere blur for you and Aaron.

He has set up his place to be like the most romantic restaurant in all of New York after he missed a reservation where you waited for him for hours while twiddling your thumbs and eating free bread. He was guilt ridden, whispering apologies on your temple when he came home to you already asleep on his couch. Truth be told, you've already forgiven him after numerous kisses from him, but you can't lie, seeing Aaron grovel and pamper you has your heart singing.

“Told you I can be romantic.” He says, popping the cork from the bottle of wine effortlessly, bicep bulging out as he smirks at you.

You look up from your rose, nose buried inside as you coyly gaze at him. “Who said you're not?”

Aaron chuckles, a deep rumble that has your cheeks aflame. “You implied it, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes, you gently place the flower together with the bouquet on the vase, the card he gave you still tucked inside with his pretty handwriting that you've teased him about before when compared to your chicken scratch.

“Implication is different from actually saying it, Aaron.” You eye him as he rounds the perfectly made table setting to pour you a glass.

He raises a brow, “just like how you implied that I shouldn't be late on our date.” The sound of the gurling wine mixes in with the music.

“I already forgave you, handsome.” You reach towards the small of his back, thumb wrapping around his jean loop. “You can stop your groveling.”

Smiling, he places down the wine, gazing at you softly as he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. Eyes never leaving your own. “Is that what I'm doing?” He asks with a teasing lilt, intertwined hands resting on top of his lean chest. “Or maybe I just like candle light dinners with my girl?”

“Even if we're eating mac and cheese right now in front of the TV, I'd still be happy.” You gently tug him down, and he kneels before you, hand immediately reaching for your knee to turn you around to fully face him. “Don’t feel guilty, please?” Cupping his cheek, he hums, leaning against your touch.

“I left you out there looking hot as hell, like I stood you up—”

“You did but go on.” That earns another chuckle from him.

“—I just want to show you how sorry I am. It'll never happen again, sweetheart.” Arms wrapping around your middle, he hugs you, chin placed right on your thigh comfortably.

“You can't promise that, Aaron.” You know of his work, and it's evident on his remorseful face, wishing that wasn't truly the case, that he can give you some sort of normality instead of what he offers.

“I know but I'll try.” For now, that's all he can do, promise you that one day that won't be the case, that he doesn't have to come home to you already fast asleep or him with broken skin and bones.

“Thank you, that's all I ask.” You kiss his forehead, then another to his temple then another and another until he's smiling from ear to ear.

“Alright come on, the food’s getting cold—”

“Uncle Aaron?!” A new voice screams in the doorway, stopping your kisses, lips still right on the crown of his head.

“Miles?” He peeks over you, and as you crane your neck to look back, you find the teenager covering his eyes with his hand, head lolling back like he's in agony. “It's not what you think, kid!”

You look at the position you and Aaron are in, and your eyes widen at what that might've looked like from behind. “Shit.” You push him off you, panicking.

Aaron stands up, patting your hand before walking around your chair. “C’mon, Miles, it ain't what you think.”

“Who is that?!” He points blindly, missing you as he accidentally points at the bouquet of flowers.

“That.” Aaron looks back at you, trying to tamp down his laughter. “She's what I've been meaning to talk to you about. But you're always running away before I could, what's up with you?”

“What's up with me?!” His voice peaks, clearing his throat from the sudden bout of puberty tone. “What's up with you?”

“Me?” Aaron leans slightly back in offense. “What? Why?”

You notice Miles’ clothes are absolutely drenched, rain water dripping on the hardwood floors that Aaron always painstakingly polishes. “Okay.” You clap your hands together, standing up and joining Aaron's side. “Let's continue later because I need to get a towel for you or you'll get sick.”

Aaron's hand brushes along your arm before you walk towards the linen closet to get a towel. He looks back at Miles, who's still covering his eyes. “Really?”

“I need to bleach my eyes.” Miles peeks over his fingers at his uncle before closing them again.

—

“A year?!” Miles shrieks, towel placed around his shoulders as he eats your plate of pasta. Aaron dries his hair with a hair dryer, the sound is still lower than the teenager’s yell of surprise.

“Yeah, a year, we've been together for a year.” Aaron sighs as if he can't believe it himself as he stares at you from across the table while you watch the duo.

“Does dad know?” Miles looks up, pasta sauce left on his chin.

“He knows,” Aaron smiles before he turns Miles’ head back around. He remembers that day, it was a chance meeting too when you walked into the police station to report almost getting mugged. It was fate when you faced his brother, and it was fate when he ran into the two of you chatting like old friends. His worries, both filled with you getting hurt by the mugging and the other with you meeting his brother melted away in a station of all places. “He invited us to dinner so she could meet the family. But I wanted to tell you first but you keep dodging me.” He wiggles Miles' head, pasta going back and forth while he's halfway eating it.

“I wasn't!”

You smile fondly at them while they bicker, heart warming at the sight. “Well it's nice to finally meet you, Miles.”

They pause from their bickering, hair blower on high as Aaron points it right at Miles’ face. He pushes his uncle away, trying to act nonchalant to fix your first impression of him.

“Yeah, you too.”

“I heard that you do graffiti, your uncle showed me your work, it's amazing.” You smile nervously, handing him another bowl of pasta in hopes of him liking you.

His eyes light up, whether from the pasta given or from your compliment. “Thanks.”

You flick your eyes over to Aaron, and he urges you with a gentle smile. “Your dad said that you're doing well in school, what's your favourite subject—?”

“Do you love my uncle?” He blurts out bluntly, earning a gentle smack over the back of his head from his uncle. “What?! It's a genuine question!”

Aaron turns to you, expecting a quip like always, but as your eyes turn sweet, inhaling deeply, he knows what you're about to say.

“I do, I love Aaron.” You gaze at him, saying the words with your whole heart as if you've never said them before when you have, a hundred times to him in the morning and before bed— you love him, and Aaron feels it all in his heart.

Miles looks between you and his uncle, getting an understanding as he sees the way he looks at you like you're a new vinyl record. And the way you look at him like he's the sun peeking through the clouds after rain. A smile slowly curls in the corner of his lips, this is how his parents look at eachother, and he knows that you're in for the long haul.

[senawashere]

We're on this together...(Chapter IV)

Bradley Bradshaw x Fem!Wife!Reader

Summary: Is it over now? Or is it starting now?

A/n: A MAJOR change is on the way!!

Warnings: Infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf.Use of alcohol,arguing,use of bad languange. Mostly angst.

20 APRIL 2022.

You nodded.

That's why you're currently in one of the most well known clinics in San Diego because Bradley didn't want to "risk it" and your leg shakes with anger at the thought, causing Bradley to rest his hand on your knee.

Car ride was complately silence. And after around one and half an hour you both finally parked your car to the parking lot and walked into the big hospital.

The sterile smell of the hospital immediately caught your nose. This scent wasn't helping you feel more stressed than you already were. But Bradley's tight grip on your hand seemed to comfort you at least a little.

He's nervous too, damn, he feels like he's going to throw up, but he has to stay strong for you and he relaxes a little when his lover rests her head on his shoulder and kisses her temple, which works because he's a little less nervous now.

"It'll be alright." You whisper and your husband smiles to hear you thinking positively.

"Exactly." He answers, his heart pounding with pride when he hears you optimistic for the first time in a long time.

You both are distracted by looking at socials on his phone for a few more minutes until a woman in white emerges from the office and looks up, reading a spreadsheet to say. "Bradshaw?"

You both stand up, You instantly reach out for Bradley to hold your hand tightly, and after greeting the woman, you both enter where the doctor is waiting for you behind her desk.

“Bradley, Y/N, this is a pleasure.” She shakes both of your hands.

"Thank you. Pleasure is ours." Bradley responds with the hand now holding on your lower back and gently pulling the chair forward for you to sit down on.

"Okay, I understand you're here because you're having trouble getting pregnant, right?" The old woman asks, looking under her round glasses.

"Yes." You hum, swallowing dryly.

Bradley takes your hand but continues to stare at the doctor, knowing his wife hates public attention, something he's learned the hard way over the last dozen years.

"We'll be running some tests on you both next week, don't worry, just to make sure everything is as it should be."

You both nodded, and both felt small in the hospital chairs, holding hands, afraid, feeling that time had not passed, and feeling that you were still sixteen years olds and had no idea what life was really like.

Talking about a future that would never come, wishing they could be like them again forever, they gathered in the treehouse as You stroked Bradley's uncontrollable hair, as he clumsily talked about his dreams, thinking that maybe one day he would love to be become a fighter pilot. Like his dad.

They both are individually subjected to multiple tests and studies, and after about three hours both of your works finish, returning home exhausted and not even eating dinner, you both quickly crawl under the covers and seek each other's warmth.

While Bradley plays with the ring on his ring finger, his head lies on his lover's chest. "Are you scared?" he asks and your hands stop in his hair.

"Maybe a baby isn't for us."

You look up and look at him in shock, feeling your throat close at the raw and harsh words and you heart starts pounding when you see his face.

"Darling, don't say that."

You look away, staring at the ceiling, feeling the tears gathering in your eyes until they fall down the sides onto your pillow.

You are not even sobbing, not screaming, nothing, just...crying. Silently.

"Oh, my love.” He grabs your arms to pull you closer, switching positions so you are on top of him, dipping his bare chest in the salty drops.

"We're going to have them, fuck, we're going to have the baby or maybe babies. We just have to wait for the results. I know we are going to."

He wants to cry too, but he can't cry in front of you when you need him more than ever. He will find a moment of solitude where he can lighten his own burden, but not now.

"I just want to make you happy." You cry and he frowns.

"You think I need a baby to be happy?"

Bradley questions, holding your waist and carresing with his thumb.

"Darling, as long as you're with me, anything can go to hell, I'll be the happiest man on earth. I don't need a baby, I don't need anything but you, my soul."

You hug him tighter, digging your nails into his shoulders and closing your eyes, breathing in the scent of home your husband gives off. Now you understand and blindly believe in it.

As long as they are together, they don't need anything else.

I know this is sad but it might be the last sad chapter hehehe!!!

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsign-fox @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @hardballoonlove @topguncortez @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @eternalsams @callsigns-haze @promisingyounglady @els-marvelvsp @cevansbaby-dove you are not comfortable please tell me!!

[like-rain-or-confetti]

@soythesaucytoast this is for you, I'm so sorry I fucked it up posting too early. I misclicked on my phone! Okay, let's try this again and thank you SO much for the love❤️

Like.. idk if this has been asked before but like, s/o (Also right hand to a rouge) has been recently overworking themselves to the point of physical health declining becoming terribly sick and they still are pushing themselves too hard because they just want to be they best for their boss eyebags and sometimes falling asleep when sitting down long enough starting to develop a fever- stuff like that- also I adore your writing I love it

Overworked

Black Mask: At first, it seemed like he wasn't paying attention to your condition. That he was too busy enjoying himself in the club. He turned his back just when you were about to tell him about how off you were feeling rather suddenly. However, the lights were blurring, and a cold sensation rushed down your legs. You didn't see him turn back around. Without warning, he caught you holding you up. "You're alright, babe. I got you." He led you to sit in a booth. Snapping his fingers at a goon. "Get a glass of water. Cold." He turned back to you. "Right, baby, are you with me? You're alright. We're gonna get you some water and a quick snack for the ride home. Get you some food on the way back and you're gonna take some time off."

Scarecrow: He noticed how you kept shifting your weight from one leg to the other, lifting a leg and rolling your ankle every so often. "Are you alright?" He asked warily. You nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." You nodded, trying to push through the pain. Jonathan didn't buy it. "No, you're in pain. You've been standing all day. Sit down." He said, and whilst you protested, he didn't take no for an answer, guiding you to sit on the desk. Wordlessly, he took one of your legs, massaging the calf, knee, and thigh. You grimaced slightly at first before feeling the relief as your muscles were forced to relax under his firm grip.

Two-Face: It had started when you went to eat. It was all fine until you took the first bite. A shiver went down your spine, your body screamed that this isn't what it wanted despite looking forward to it. Now you wanted nothing but to spit it out. He sensed it as he put a hand on your thigh. Apparently, you weren't going fast enough because your brain sent off a signal that made you get up and make a run for it. You hurried to the bathroom. He followed just as quickly. His non-scarred hand rubbed your back. Nothing happened, but it felt like a close call. "You good? You literally lost colour for a second." Harvey said and checked your temperature. "This is stress, baby. I'm sure of it. You need a break - screw that!" Harv cut in. "You need time off. Real time off. You're gonna get sick. Not on our watch!"

Firefly: He paid attention to you more than you had thought. Without a complaint, you nursed a migraine, rubbing your temples and eyes interchangeably. Out of nowhere, You felt arms around your middle and a roaring sound attacked your ears before you were suddenly in the air. You were lowered again on a hill, the grass padding your decline as you lay on your back. "There. No city lights. Fresh air. We're gonna get you outta here so you can go lie down, babe. Just relax, I'm staying right here with you. I've got this."

The Riddler: He came into the room to see you were out, fast asleep on the desk. He leaned forward, hands on his knees as he bent to your ear. "(Y/N)?" He got no response then he blew air in your ear, and you jolted awake with a yelp. He caught you from going anywhere. "My dear, take a breath. everything has been taken care of." He found it cute. "You've been working hard. I appreciate it, but you're not as accustomed to this as I am. I must insist you go and get some rest." You had expected for him to be condescending but apparently he was feeling nice? Beware he'll likely use this against you later. It's only a matter of time. You know...narcissist and all that.

[pankowcrumbs]

Mrs Keery X Joe Keery (Requested)

MasterList

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

The autumn air was crisp, golden leaves crunching beneath our feet as Joe led me through the park, our fingers intertwined. He had been acting slightly off all day distracted, fidgeting with the ring on his own finger, his usual effortless chatter laced with nervous energy. I had noticed, of course, but I didn’t press him on it. Joe would talk when he was ready.

We wandered towards a quiet little clearing, where fairy lights were strung between the trees, flickering softly in the dimming light. My breath hitched.

"Joe, what is this?" I asked, looking around, my heart hammering.

He turned to me, a lopsided smile on his face. "I, um... I had this whole speech planned," he admitted, running a hand through his hair, "but now that we're here, all I can think about is how much I love you."

My stomach flipped. "Joe"

But before I could say anything more, he was dropping to one knee, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and flipped it open. Inside, a delicate diamond ring caught the golden glow of the fairy lights.

"Y/N, you are my best friend, my love, my everything. I can't imagine a life that doesn’t have you in it. Every moment with you is my favourite moment. Will you marry me?"

I gasped, hands covering my mouth as happy tears welled in my eyes. "Yes! Yes, of course, I will!"

Joe let out a breathless laugh, slipping the ring onto my finger before pulling me into his arms, spinning me around as I giggled. He kissed me deeply, his hands cradling my face, and I could feel the sheer joy radiating from him.

"We're getting married!" he cheered, pressing kisses all over my face as I laughed.

Wedding planning was a whirlwind of excitement. Joe was involved in every detail, from the flower arrangements to the cake tasting (which he took very seriously, insisting on trying every flavour twice).

"Babe, this is an important decision," he reasoned, licking frosting off his thumb. "We need to be absolutely sure."

I rolled my eyes fondly. "Joe, we’ve tried six different types of cake."

"And we’ll try six more if we have to."

There were countless late nights spent picking colour palettes, invitations, and centrepieces. Joe would often pull me onto his lap, brushing my hair out of my face as we went over wedding details.

"I just want it to be perfect for you," he murmured one night, pressing a kiss to my temple.

"It already is, because I'm marrying you."

The morning of the wedding arrived, and nerves fluttered in my stomach. my dress a flowing white gown with delicate lace detailing. My hands trembled as they adjusted my veil.

"You look like a dream," my mum whispered, eyes misty.

I let out a shaky breath. "I just want to see him."

One of his sisters grinned. "Well, he's waiting for you at the end of the aisle. And judging by how obsessed he is with you, he's probably crying already."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the venue, Joe was pacing in his dressing room, fidgeting with his cufflinks.

"Mate, breathe," his best man laughed, handing him a drink. "You're acting like she won’t show up."

Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just can't believe she's about to be my wife. She's everything, man."

When the doors opened, and I walked down the aisle, my arm looped through my dad’s, my heart pounded. But the second I locked eyes with Joe, everything else melted away. He stood there, looking ridiculously handsome in his suit, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his mouth slightly parted like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

"Wow," he breathed when I reached him, his fingers squeezing mine.

The ceremony was beautiful, filled with laughter and happy tears. When it was time for our vows, Joe took a deep breath, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

"Y/N, from the moment I met you, I knew you were special. You make every day brighter, every moment better, and I promise to spend the rest of my life loving you with everything I have."

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I whispered, "I love you so much."

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant declared. "Joe, you may kiss your bride."

Joe didn't hesitate, pulling me into his arms, kissing me like we were the only two people in the world. Our guests erupted into cheers, but all I could focus on was him, my husband.

The reception was a blur of laughter, dancing, and stolen kisses. Joe barely left my side, his hands always on me my waist, my hand, my cheek like he couldn't quite believe I was real. When we had our first dance, he whispered, "I’m the luckiest man alive."

"and I'm the luckiest woman alive," I murmured back, resting my head against his chest as we swayed to the music.

Later that night, as we stole a quiet moment together, Joe pulled me outside under the twinkling fairy lights.

"This is the best night of my life," he murmured, his hands resting on my waist.

I smiled up at him. "Mine too."

He traced his fingers over my ring, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Mrs. Keery," he mused, testing the words out.

I shivered at the sound of it. "I like that."

Joe grinned, leaning down to kiss me deeply. "Good. Because I plan on calling you that forever."

he lifted me into his arms, carrying me back inside to celebrate with our loved ones

[meaningofaeons]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ unbearable

⊹ character(s) - sampo koski ⊹ word count - 1.7k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, angsty, hurt/comfort?? possibly slightly ooc sampo sorry </3, unedited

ugh I rlly couldn't help myself making my first work on this account sampo (tho I really did consider svarog LMAO he's grown on me a lot) but I hope you all like!! this is like. my redebut onto tumblr writing hehe ^w^

Surely, there couldn't be a more unbearable man on this planet — no, maybe in the entire universe — than Sampo Koski.

Perhaps he had his good sides, though, you would find yourself musing every once in a while.

Sure, he was a filthy conman, always tunnel-visioned on his next profit. Not much consideration for strangers aside from their pockets, not to mention that terrible habit of his to spam anyone whose contact he could get his hands on with scam ads and malware links he was paid a pretty sum to spread. Even his own 'friends' wouldn't be spared from his constant phishing attempts.

Maybe he did get a bit too reckless if the job was especially large, especially profitable, and maybe he did sometimes ditch just before the bill at a restaurant would arrive, and maybe he did piss off a group of automatons, causing them to chase you two to the edge of town until —

You sighed irritably, pinching your temple as you tried to refocus your thoughts.

In spite of all that, Sampo did have his benefits, you surmised.

He had ended up dropping in at just the right time during that automaton chase, even though you'd assumed mere moments earlier that his disappearance from your side meant he had run for the hills and left you behind. You avoided a lot worse injuries thanks to him that day.

And yeah, he did stop that miner from scamming you out of a good chunk of your paycheck that one time — albeit at the cost of another group of naïve victims who he led the man directly to. 'The only one who can swindle you out of all your pocket money is me!' he had claimed, and promptly received a beating over the head.

But once you opened your eyes again, beholding the sight of Sampo Koski sat on his knees before you in shame, twiddling his thumbs as he glanced to the side with a guilty smile...

You weren't quite sure his positive aspects could completely abate your wrath.

On this very day, the man before you had asked you to come with him to Rivet Town to assist with a 'very important business discussion'. You, foolishly, decided to trust him again.

'Give him the benefit of the doubt,' you'd thought. 'Maybe this time it's actually something honest. Maybe this'll really help him.'

Rather than a discussion, though, the foxlike man had instead led you right to a large group of automatons.

'It'll be fine,' he'd said, shrugging. 'Just need some scrap metal for a client! It's technically still a business discussion, we're just discussing with our weapons rather than our mouths!'

So he'd left you to dismantle the automaton pile, until another group of very much active robots had spotted you two and barreled towards you for vengeance.

The man hadn't even noticed in your collective fleeing that one of the bots had managed a sizable gash on your leg, hindering your escape until the two of you finally stumbled back into town.

Of course, the filthy scammer escaped unscathed himself.

Just recalling the incident sent you into further distress as the pain ached in your leg — you hadn't bothered to get it treated by Natasha yet, too focused on giving your 'business partner' a piece of your mind as soon as possible.

Sampo didn't dare speak a word himself. Your stormy expression was enough for him to keep his trap shut tight, too afraid of your mood to risk worsening it.

He had really done it with his latest stunt — a little 'prank gone wrong', as he put it, until he saw just how upset you were — and he knew it, too.

"I just..." Green eyes immediately shot over towards you as you began to speak, but your words only cut off into a heavy sigh, leading you to slump into a chair in the corner of your dingy apartment. Seeing you kneading your forehead with a look of exhaustion more so than anything else, the sly man took his chances with a conversation.

"L-Like I said, Y/N, it was all in good fun!" he laughed anxiously, feeling his palms begin to sweat. "I wasn't actually going to leave you to get all the parts by yourself, or ditch you when the bots came running, or anything —"

"Quiet."

Your voice shut him up once again.

Sampo was exceedingly nervous today. Usually, you'd just get angry with him, expression twisting into that cute, flushed pout that he'd gotten so fond of.

You'd hit him over the head, scold him loudly, drag him by the ear... but you were never silently angry. Not like this.

"Does it really make you happy?" your voice echoed through the room at last, your face still hidden beneath your exasperated hands. "Is it really that fun? Are you getting a good laugh at my expense?"

Sampo's smile, though nervous, fell.

"You know, Sampo Koski," His spine straightened at his full name being used, rare shame filling his cheeks. He felt like he was being scolded like a toddler. "You always pull something or other over me. Usually, it's bearable. But it's gotten to be too much."

"Y-Y/N —"

"I choose to offer you my trust in so many ways, and you just...!" Your hands clutched onto your hair in complete vexation. "You always take advantage of it! Always! Even when I try to help you, or give you the benefit of the doubt, try to convince myself you're being honest for once!"

You peered through your fingers at him with one eye.

"I can count on two hands the amount of times you've shockingly come through for me, and yet, I don't even have enough hairs on my head to equal the amount of times you've swindled or betrayed me! This is the last straw, Sampo Koski!"

"Y/N, l-listen —"

"I'm going to Nat's."

His mouth fell agape as you just got up and began walking towards the door as you'd said.

"Wait!"

"What?" you sneered as the man half-rose to his feet, frozen by your glare. "Worried that I'll tattle to her and you'll get another earful to ignore? Don't worry. She knows that every injury I get is your doing, so she's going to find out one way or another."

"...Injury?" Sampo asked, dumbfounded. You raised a brow, thoroughly ticked as you turned and walked away again.

It was then that he noticed the blood soaking your pants, the torn material of your clothes sticking uncomfortably to the gnashed skin. Your limp was more pronounced than he'd like to admit, considering he clearly hadn't noticed it prior to now.

The door slamming brought the man back to his senses, and he immediately pursued you, grabbing onto your wrist before you could make it ten steps away from your home.

"Let go, Sampo! While I'm still being nice!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I don't want to hear it! I —" Upon processing his words, you turned, a look of mild horror washing over your features as you raised a brow again. "...Eh?"

Sure enough, the Sampo Koski had just said the words 'I'm sorry' in a tone that sounded more genuine than anything he'd ever pushed past his lips — that is, if his souring expression was anything to go by.

He'd never said that to you before, not in the several incidents before this, so you certainly hadn't expected it now.

He looked gutted.

"I should've — I shouldn't've — Urgh..." Sampo scratched the back of his neck. You narrowed your eyes.

"Don't tell me this is just you being too afraid of Nat to let me get treated by her."

"No, no, listen," he waved his hands around wildly. "I'm... sure, I'm afraid of Miss Natasha, plenty afraid, in fact! But... being real honest, I'm way more afraid of you walking out on me for good."

His head bowed, and he looked completely downtrodden at this point.

"Y-You've been better to me than most, and I guess... I don't know. I just thought you'd always be there, sorta... Which was wrong of me to assume!" Sampo's speech was jumping all over the place as he hastily attempted to keep your attention, worried a single wrong word would send you walking away again. "Very wrong! I took advantage of ya a lot, and... Well, I'm sorry."

You stood there in silence for a good, long while.

It was plenty of time to make even Sampo nervous. You couldn't deny reveling in the way his fingers twitched anxiously, his eyes darting to you and back to the floor as he awaited your response — or lack of one — to his apology.

Finally, you sighed again. A very long, drawn-out, wrongdoing-emphasizing sigh.

"Well, I assume you can't promise that this will never happen again."

"Heheh... Well, if we're being really, really honest..." he simpered, not meeting your eye. "I can at least promise that I'll never let you get hurt on my watch again, though! Not ever! Koski's honor!"

The comical way he put a fist to his chest, as though mimicking a Silvermane Guard, put a reluctant smile on your face. Finally, you snorted out a laugh, bringing his infamous smile back again as well. This time, however, it was more relieved than mischievous.

"I really hate you sometimes," you murmured, pulling him into a hug as you buried your face in his shoulder. "But I'll let it slide. Last time, Sampo Koski. Don't you mess up again."

"I won't!" he shouted, perhaps a bit too eager. Still-shaky hands found your figure as he gently returned your embrace, something a bit more tender in his eyes when you pulled away. "I won't."

"Fine."

"Now, then, why don't we mosey back on into your house and get that leg patched up, eh?"

"Sorry, Mr. Koski," you teased, folding your hands behind your back as you continued your trek towards Natasha's clinic. "As much as we just shared a heartfelt moment of emotional growth, I don't trust your shoddy patchwork first-aid, not for something that hurts this bad. You'll just have to deal."

Sampo trailed after you like a puppy, rubbing his hands together like the shady businessman he was, familiar swindling smirk back already — though it grew more anxious by the minute as you neared Natasha's.

"Ah, come on! Can't we work out a deal? A bargain?! I said I won't let you get hurt again! We're both reasonable people, right...?"

"Y/N...? Y/N, come on!"

[candied-peach]

ao3: "something out of a rom-com" rating: T genre: hurt/comfort, humor(?) warnings: logince, head injuries, temporary amnesia, fainting description: Logan finds Roman in the Imagination, when he's hurt himself. Roman can't remember him at first. (lyrics from mother mother "get up")

You want love, want truth, wanna feel brand new You wanna do it, do it, do it You got dreams, you got dreams, you got dreams

The world swims in front of Roman's eyes, a stab of pain lancing through his temple that has his eyelids immediately slamming shut again.

"No, no, you need to open your eyes," a patient voice tells him. He doesn't recognize it, but something about the voice's steadiness soothes him. He begrudgingly attempts to open his eyes again. A blur of colors resolves itself into a man kneeling in front of him. He has on a black polo shirt and a star-patterned tie, and he wears black, square-framed glasses.

"There you are," the man says gently. Roman's mouth wobbles into a smile without his permission. His head aches abominably, and there's a curious throbbing in his right shoulder.

"What happen'?" Roman asks, his tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth. He can taste blood, and he hates it.

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure," the stranger admits. "You missed dinner, so I came in search of you and found you half-unconscious on a hillside. All I can surmise is that perhaps you fell? The hill is relatively steep above us."

"Maybe?" Roman's forehead scrunches as he tries to think, and he immediately regrets the action. "Ow," he says plaintively. The stranger looks concerned.

"Let's get you inside," he tells Roman. "Do you think you can stand?"

"Of course I can," he protests. "What kind of prince would I-" He stops, frowning. Prince? Is he a prince? Why would he be a prince and be left out here? It looks pleasant, a nice countryside view sprawling around him, complete with puffy white clouds and soft blue smudges of sky, but-

"Roman?" The man asks, gaze probing into him. "What is it?"

"I-" Roman pauses, chewing his bottom lip, before he decides to just come out with it. "Who are you?"

"Roman, what do you mean?" The man's forehead wrinkles. "It's Logan. Logic. Your- your boyfriend?" The man's- Logan's- ears turn red. "How hard did you hit your head? A silly question, of course you wouldn't remember," he trails off, muttering to himself.

"Boyfriend?" Roman asks, seizing upon the word. "I have a boyfriend?" All thoughts of being horribly murdered for his presumed royalty evaporate from his head, and a giddy smile spreads across his face. "I have a boyfriend and he's as gorgeous as you?"

"Roman, I can assure you that 'gorgeous' is not a descriptor that applies to me," Logan says, the redness spreading across his cheeks until he looks feverish. "Come on, we must get you inside, the others will be worried-"

"Who cares?" Roman asks dreamily. "A boyfriend..." He beams at Logan, ignoring the throb of pain. "Brilliant, that's brilliant, Thomas must be so-" He frowns. "Who's Thomas?" He asks Logan.

"Our...person," Logan says. "We are sides of Thomas, Roman. We're...metaphysical personifications of concepts. I am Logic and you are his Creativity."

"Neat," Roman says, with all the enthusiasm of a person who has not understood a single word he has just heard. "Can I kiss you?"

"Roman, you don't even remember that we are dating, I hardly think it would be appropriate-" Logan starts. Roman gives him puppy dog eyes, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout. Logan sighs.

"Here," he says, and gives Roman a gentle peck on his forehead. His lips are warm. Roman giggles.

"Anyway," Logan says. "Let's return to the Mindscape proper. I don't have any first aid supplies in the Imagination, and I would like to check you over." Roman wiggles his eyebrows at that, and Logan studiously ignores him.

"Okay," Roman agrees, delighted. He is not as delighted when he actually attempts to stand, and his knee nearly buckles. Logan is there in an instant, propping him up.

"Thank you," Roman says, eyes shiny. 

"Do you think you can walk if I help you?" Logan asks. Roman nods.

It is slow- painfully slow at first, but Roman's muscles start to loosen up, and he doesn't seem to have hurt his legs, not really. Logan tells him about their first date, some flamboyantly romantic affair where Roman turned the entire Imagination into a sort of planetarium. He listens, barely understanding his own abilities, but feeling his cheeks hurt from how hard he's smiling. He doesn't remember, but on some level, he does, he knows he does, because the way he seems to feel about the logical side next to him would be frightening if he didn't feel so like home at the same time.

"Here we are," Logan says, approaching an ornate, golden-scrolled door. Roman pauses, looking down at his boyfriend.

"Thank you," he says, sincerity ringing in his tone. Logan looks a little puzzled, but smiles anyway.

"You're welcome," he says. Before he can open the door, it's jerked open from the other side, revealing a small crowd of people. At the forefront is a guy with purple-dyed fringe and a purple-plaid hoodie, looking absolutely frantic, and someone with heart-framed glasses and a cardigan tied around his neck.

"You're alive!" The purple-themed one blurts out.

"Of course they're alive, Virgil, I told you they were," someone behind the first two drawls. Roman blinks in confusion, seeing the snake scales patterning one side of his face.

"Yeah, but you're Deceit," the purple one- Virgil- grumbles. "You talk in riddles all the time."

"I really don't," Deceit says, but he looks deeply amused.

"Ah," Roman says, as he steps through the door and knowledge pours into his head at a frankly alarming rate, making him stumble. "Logan, I think I might pass out."

"What?!" Virgil screeches.

"I've got you," Logan promises, steady hands holding Roman up. He smiles weakly at his boyfriend.

"Love you," he murmurs, as blackness irises in.