#and I can never listen to it the same way again

[devil-in-hiding]

something something reader is a bartender at a popular little pub, and night after night you are hit on by men so plastered you often have to sigh and call over one of the guys you work with the idiots end up vomiting all over themselves (sometimes it’s worse than vomit but thankfully you can count those incidents on one hand)

you think by slipping on your grandmothers old wedding ring, it will sway men from hitting on you at work. And it does, there’s still some that try to test their luck, but the minute you flash that pearl on your finger they’re scurrying off to find their next target.

Cue four new regulars, four attractive military men that always flash you a polite smile and leave you a nice tip. Price comes in more than the others, claiming the stool near your register for himself, Ghost doing the same the rare nights he slinks into the pub. Soap and Gaz come in together some weekends, sitting themselves in front of you with big grins on their faces as they watch the game on the tv overhead.

They’re all sweet, a little cocky at times but nothing that one of their grins or sly remarks can’t make up for. They ask how their favorite girl is doing when they return from longer missions, genuinely listening as you fill them in on the things that have happened since they’ve been away.

Perfect gentlemen.

Until one night you forget your ring, having had to rush your shower and sprint out the door to make it to the pub before the nightly rush.

You filling glasses when you hear the chime of the bell and a familiar laugh fill the pub.

“Was wondering if I’d see you boys tonight.” You smile, motioning for them to give you a moment as you serve the other patrons.

When you slide back over to them, you immediately reach for their usual glasses, grabbing your cloth to wipe them off, when a hand clamps around your wrist and you jump, nearly dropping the glass as Ghost turns your hand over in his.

“Trouble at home pretty?” Price comments, concern etched on his face and it takes a moment for you to catch on, and you can’t help the little giggle that spills out.

“Oh! My ring… It’s kind of a funny story. I uhm.. I’m not actually married.” You laugh, expecting them to laugh along with you, but all you feel are four pairs of eyes piercing into you.

“Come again?” Gaz asks, voice a tad deeper than usual and you ignore the chills it sends down your spine.

“I started wearing it so some of the drunkards would leave me be, kind of forgot about it, just became habit.” You chuckle nervously, hand still in Ghost’s grasp and he’s eyeing you in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Hm. Interesting.”

[justatypicalwizard]

Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight

Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.

In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.

There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.

Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.

So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.

A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.

[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I  got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]

Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.

Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.

[Sure]

[File attached]

Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.

[Thank you so much!]

[I owe you]

[If you ever need anything feel free to write]

Whatever.

It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.

Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.

Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?

As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.

If you ever need anything feel free to write.

Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.

[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]

He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.

In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.

Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.

That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.

“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.

“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“Exactly.”

He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.

You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon. 

“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).

“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.

You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.

Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.

“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”

“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.

Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.

You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.

“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”

You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.

A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.

For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.

The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.

“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.

When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.

“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”

“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.

“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Is it really that fucking funny?”

“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.

People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.

Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.

The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.

Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.

[lycheeloving]

Why is there almost no Lex Luthor content... I saw him in Young Justice and immediately got inspired lol

Anyways, here's a yandere!Lex Luthor fic, with Superman and Batman rescuing you, but do they have good intentions? 👀 (gender neutral reader ofc)

Warnings for mind controlling/altering devices & substances ✌️ and general yandere stuff ofc

You're not the biggest fan of big events with many people, but with Lex at your side, you find you don't really mind anything, even the gala you're currently at.

Holding his hand, you happily watch him as he talks to rich people you couldn't care less about, when he turns to look at you.

You perk up as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You try to lean into it, but he pulls away too fast for your liking. At least you catch a whiff of his scent, he always smells so good...

"Be a doll and get yourself a drink at the bar, would you?"

Ah.

That's code for "we're going to talk about confidential business stuff". Sure. You can spend some time away from him, even if it makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. You'll do it for him!

You silently nod, reluctantly let go of his hand and start making your way across the room towards the bar.

As you're leaving, you make out the word "Justice League". They have been giving him trouble recently, is that what their conversation is about? You can never remember what exactly their issue is with him... He's just a CEO!

Unfortunately the bar is out of earshot, so you can't keep listening, which is exactly why he sent you away in the first place, but you sit on a stool from which you can still easily see him.

He always says that you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about his boring business stuff, so you don't, but he always looks so good when talking about it! So serious and in charge...

After ordering a fun looking cocktail you sigh, already missing him.

You didn't use to like alcohol, but everything tastes better now that you know him, so you indulge in the occasional drink.

You catch yourself staring at Lex. Maybe you shouldn't look at him this much? What if people think he's weird for dating someone who's this obsessed with him? You don't want that for him, he has so much to deal with already... Swishing your drink around, you try to tear your eyes away from him.

You sigh again.

Somebody slides onto the stool next to you and orders a fancy sounding drink. He turns to you.

"Are you ok? I could hear you sighing from across the room."

"I'm fine... I just miss my boyfriend." You hold back another sigh and absentmindedly trace the rim of your glass.

"Oh, so you came here alone?"

"No, he's over there." You subtly point at him. "He's just talking about some important business stuff without me right now."

"Lex Luthor?" He pulls a face as you nod.

"So you're..." He says your name. Apparently people know you! Huh. You hadn't realized.

"I'm Bruce Wayne, by the way."

Now that he mentions it, you don't know how you didn't notice it before. He is quite famous. You probably should have recognized him, but you were too distracted by how dreamy Lex looks...

"What are you doing with him? I mean, he's not known for being fun. Or kind."

He sounds like he's joking, but you don't think it's funny. Your face turns serious.

"You must not know him very well, then."

He holds up his hands in defense. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything. Or him, I guess..." He trails off.

Changing the topic with a grin, he says: "I'm guessing that means I don't have a chance with you?"

You shake your head. He can't be serious.

"...What if I shave my head? Would you consider leaving Luthor for me if I was bald?"

You crack a little smile at that. But your answer remains the same.

"No, I wouldn't leave my Lexie for anyone."

His eyes widen. "Oh, wow, so your relationship is pretty serious, then?"

Why would he even ask that?

"Of course it's serious, I love him!"

He pauses for a moment, seemingly contemplating something.

"...and does he love you?"

You gently touch the spot where Lex last pressed a kiss to your face and look in his direction, only to find he's already looking right back at you. You smile.

"He does." You're sure of it.

Bruce gets up from his chair as Lex starts making his way towards you. "Well, it's been fun, but I'm going to go find someone I actually have a chance with." And avoid a confrontation with Lex.

He winks at you. "Bye!"

You don't say anything back as he leaves, because you're too busy looking at Lex, who's now standing right in front of you. He puts his hands on the bar behind you, caging you in with his arms.

"What did Wayne want from you?"

"Oh, I don't know, nothing important." Already distracted, you reach up to play with his tie.

He raises an eyebrow. "Were you not paying attention to him? Good. Can't have you leaving me for him."

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, even though you know he's just teasing you.

You would never! He smirks as if he can read your mind.

"Well, I have some more business to attend to. I have informed our driver that he is to take you home whenever you wish, while I will be returning to the office."

You pout at him. "I know your work is important, but please don't take too long. I'll miss you..."

He smirks. "I know, darling. I will hurry back to you."

The kiss he presses to your lips is eagerly reciprocated by you, before he gently pulls your hand away from his tie and goes back to the people he was talking to earlier, vanishing through the door.

No reason to stay here now that he's gone, right? You finish your drink and leave the building, but as you turn to look for your driver, you bump into someone.

You go to apologize, but the other guy is faster.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

His eyes widen and he straightens his glasses.

"Wait! You're Lex Luthors significant other, right?"

You nod with a smile. How lovely that this is what people know you as!

"I'm Clark Kent, with the Daily Planet. I've been meaning to talk to you about-"

Your smile vanishes. "No comment."

Lex told you that no matter what you say, reporters twist it in a way that makes you look bad, and that it's best not to engage.

He seems a bit disappointed at your quick response. "That's fair. But off the record, can I just ask how you met him? As far as I know, you weren't a part of these circles before you showed up on his arm one day."

"Off record?"

He nods.

You think you can trust him, at least with some of it.

"We met at my workplace. I used to be a barista."

Not knowing how to make it sound nice, you leave out the part where you thought he was rude to your coworker and reprimanded him, and how you only grudgingly agreed to go on a date with him because he cornered you after work and threatened to get your coworker fired if you refused.

But it was all a big misunderstanding! During that first date you realized that you really like him and that he's a really good guy!

He just didn't know how else you'd agree to go out with him after you were so angry at the beginning!

"So it was love at first sight?" Kent questions.

"Not first sight, maybe, but I knew he was the one during our first date. It just... felt so right."

Lex, of course, did know at first sight, but he's always been smarter than you, so it's not a surprise that he caught on more quickly.

"Well, thanks for the conversation. I'm going to find someone I can actually interview now, so my boss doesn't get too mad at me. Bye!"

He stumbles towards the building, bumping into someone else. What a clumsy guy! You catch him looking at you again before he enters through the door.

You finally make your way to the driver and get into the limo, driving home in silence.

Time for a lonely night without Lex...

After you get home and get ready for bed, you put on one of his shirts and go to sleep on his side of the bed.

That way you'll definitely wake up when he returns, because he refuses to sleep on your side. He'll have to get you out of the way somehow, probably pick you up...

Burying your face in his pillow where his scent is the strongest, you fall asleep.

A noise from the direction of Lex's home office wakes you up.

You're still on his side of the bed. Did he come home and keep working? Seriously? Maybe he'll let you sit in his lap while he finishes whatever he's doing...

Quietly walking towards his room, you hear low voices. Is Lex on a call? In the middle of the night?

As you make it to the entrance, you can finally make out words. It's not Lex.

"-only let you come because you said you could be stealthy. If I knew you'd be this loud, I would have come here alone."

You sneak a look around the door. Is that Batman? And-

"This is my city, and I know Luthor better than anyone, that's why I came along. Besides, I didn't make that much noise!"

-Superman!

You take a step back. Where is the button that alarms security again...? Next to the bed, right? You start making your way back to the bedroom, but...

"We have company."

You're almost at the button, try to start running towards it, but Superman is in front of you before you can blink. Shit.

"Sorry, can't let you inform anyone that we're here, we still haven't gotten everything we came for!"

He actually looks apologetic. What is wrong with him? Breaking into your home, but pretending to feel bad about it?

He holds onto both of your arms and leads you back into the office, where Batman is tinkering with Lex's computer. What could they be looking for?

"Well, if you're here already, we might as well ask you directly. What do you know about Luthor's mind-controlling technology?" Batman asks you.

Mind-controlling? What would Lex need that for?

"I- I think you've got the wrong person. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"People who usually would never cooperate with Luthor have started working for him, so I got suspicious. After some research I was able to figure out that he uses microchips to control them. But we haven't been able to figure out how to extract them without causing damage to the person they've been installed in."

Batman takes a step towards you.

"So I'll ask one more time. What do you know?"

You really have no idea what he's talking about.

"Wh- What would Lex even use that for? I don't understand!"

"Batman, are you sure they know anything? We're already 99% sure there's a chip inside of them as well, maybe one of its effects is not remembering anything about the chips?"

"It was worth a try." Batman turns to look at Superman. "I assume this means you haven't checked for a chip yet? Make yourself useful and use your x-ray vision."

"Oh, right! Right..." Superman mumbles. "No need to be rude about it."

He focuses his gaze on you. It's pretty unnerving, knowing he's looking inside of you. There's nothing you could hide from him, nothing you could do to make him stop looking at you. You hope he's really only looking inside of you...

After looking at you for too long for comfort, he chimes up: "Yep, there's a chip! Right in the shoulder."

Of course there's a chip in your shoulder, but that doesn't mean you're being controlled!

"That's just a tracker! Lex put it there in case I'm ever kidnapped or something, so he'll immediately know where I am!"

"...You let him put a tracker in you? Voluntarily?" Superman seems confused.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I?" You're confused as well. Why wouldn't you let him? He did it because he loves you! To take care of you!

Batman doesn't seem to care, only humming in acknowledgement and going back to fiddling with the computer.

That reminds you that Lex put another gadget on you...

Your necklace (beautiful, expensive, and of the letters "LL") sends him a discreet emergency signal as soon as you take it off! You just need to be able to reach it...

"Um... Superman?" You crane your neck to look up at him.

"Do you have to hold onto me like that? I mean, just, what could I do to get away, right?"

You look up at him and try to look as confused and innocent as possible.

You glance at Batman. He seems to not be interested in your conversation at all, instead focusing on the computer. Good.

"You're fast enough to immediately catch me, before I could even take a tiny step! Just- This position is kind of awkward to be in, right?"

Please fall for it, please fall for it...

"Sure, you've been pretty cooperative so far, I don't think we have anything to worry about with you..."

He chuckles, almost embarrassed, then reluctantly lets go of his hold on your arms, flexing his hands.

Holy shit. It worked.

"Nice, thanks!" You smile. What an idiot.

Now you just have to play it cool...

Act natural and normal and not like you're up to anything...

You reach up to rub your neck, as if having turned it to look up at Superman strained it.

Well, it did, but you're mostly doing it to get your hands near the necklace. And now you just have to-

The necklace opens with a quiet click, followed by an alarm sounding from the computer.

Right. You forgot it sends a signal to all of Lex's technology, including the computer in this room. Oops.

Oh well, doesn't really make a difference if they're aware that you alarmed Lex or not. What could they do about it now?

Both Superman's and Batman's heads snap towards you. You smile. Lex should be on his way now.

"Superman, why would you let go of-" Batman cuts himself off. "Doesn't matter. I have the information we came here for. Let's go."

"Are we just going to leave them here?" Superman sounds concerned.

Batman walks towards you, holding something up to your face. "No."

It smells weird, what is that? You feel dizzy, try to pull your head away from it, but Batman is holding onto you, you can't move.

Then, everything goes black.

You wake up on a bed in a bright, unfamiliar room with an ache in your shoulder.

There's a bandage in the spot where your tracker is. Or, used to be, you assume.

Rude of them, to dig around in your body without your permission.

Lex will freak out when he hears about this. He must be looking for you already.

What is this, some kind of infirmary? Where exactly are you?

Just when you decide to get up and try to leave or find out more about where you are, Superman enters the room.

"Oh, you're awake!" He gently pushes you to lie back down. You don't object, you know how strong he is, even if he is being careful right now.

"You shouldn't get up yet, your body should still be adjusting to the chip being gone."

He looks at you with curiosity. Or with hope? You can't quite tell what his expression means.

"Which, by the way, do you feel any different? About Luthor? Any memories popping up that you couldn't remember before?"

Now that he mentions it, some of your time with Lex seems... clearer. You suddenly remember the whole chip thing. And that he's constantly trying to fight (and kill) Superman and the rest of the Justice League. And a bunch of immoral business choices. And villain stuff.

But you still love him.

"I don't feel any different."

Lex must have had a good reason to block those memories from your mind.

Maybe it was for exactly this scenario, so that if the Justice League kidnapped you, you wouldn't be able to tell them anything! Unfortunately they were able to restore those memories, but that doesn't mean that you have to tell them that and make it easier for them!

Superman looks disappointed. "Oh... That's unfortunate."

Why does he seem to be so invested in this? Just because he hates Lex? What does he care if Lex is in a relationship, that shouldn't concern him at all!

"So can I go now?" You throw your legs over the side of the bed and sit up again.

"I mean, now that you know that I wasn't influenced by that chip? You can't keep me here, that would be kidnapping!"

It already is kidnapping, technically.

"Sorry, I can't let you leave." He doesn't look super apologetic about this.

"Batman is still working on something."

"I'm done working on it, actually," Batman responds.

Wait, when did Batman get here? You didn't hear him enter the room...

Superman perks up. "And did you find anything?"

"I did." Batman turns to you, his expression even more serious than usual.

"Blood tests revealed that you are affected by a toxin that messes with your pheromones. After digging through more information on Luthors computer, I was able to find correspondence between him and Poison Ivy. Apparently they made a concoction that is specific to your dna, meaning only you are affected by it, and it causes you to be attracted to him alone. He must have used it as an aftershave or perfume, but it seems pretty long lasting. The effects should last up to a month after exposure."

No. That can't be true.

"You're lying. Lex wouldn't do that. He had no reason to do that, I love him!"

Batman ignores you. "Luckily I was able to synthesize an antidote. Hold still."

You don't hold still, of course, trying to scramble off of the bed, but Superman holds onto you.

"Shhhh, calm down. You'll feel better soon," he whispers, his mouth unnervingly close to your ear.

Batman gets closer to you with a syringe, preparing to inject you with a green liquid.

"This is going to hurt."

"Wait!" you try to protest, but-

-you feel the syringe enter your skin, and then you feel pain. In your entire body.

It hurts! Why does it hurt so much!

You squirm in Superman's grip. Your head feels like it's going to explode.

There's nothing but pain for a few seconds that feel like eternity.

But then- nothing.

You feel nothing. No pain. And-

"Holy shit." You blink.

"Holy SHIT."

What did that fucker do to you?

"I was in a relationship with Lex Luthor? Why did nobody stop me! What is wrong with everyone!"

You blink again.

"I mean, I guess you stopped me. So... thank you?"

Superman lets go of you, seemingly content that you've come to your senses.

Batman seems to be holding back a smirk.

You're not done processing everything yet.

"Why would he-"

You forget what you were going to say and gasp, distracted by a new thought.

"Wait, what the fuck am I going to do now! Where can I go? I moved in with him and he made me break off contact with all of my friends! I don't have an apartment anymore or friends to stay with!"

You look at the two heroes. "D- Do you think he'll look for me? Probably, right? I mean, we were going to get married."

You feel sick.

"Wait, is an engagement legally binding? Fuck. Can I just leave? We didn't make it public yet, but that doesn't make a difference, right? Fuck!"

Superman puts his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll take care of all of that. We won't allow him anywhere near you ever again."

Batman adds on: "And you can stay in the Watchtower for now. That's the safest place for you. He won't manage to get in here."

You frown. "Are you sure that's ok? I don't want to be a burden..."

Superman's smile gets wider, it's almost creepy.

Batman moves closer to you, putting his hand on your other shoulder. You're starting to feel a bit smothered.

"We'll gladly take care of you. For however long it takes."

You wonder if that means forever.

[mattsturnioloz]

Then I lost you: Pt 4.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

Summary: Matt's career as a youtuber takes a toll on his 4 year relationship with his girlfriend, putting it on hold. Will it ever be the same again?

Warnings: angst, unresolved angst, crying, talk about intercourse, make out, fluff!!

Pairings: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

A/N: (Felt like writing chapter 4 cause I need to know what happens😭 also I recommend listening to the song while reading🙂)

“You know deep down it’s for the best y/n.” Matt says to me, gently taking my hands in his, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. I feel a deep pang in my heart but I wipe my tears. I nod, hugging him. We share a long heartfelt hug, and it only gets tighter each second.

“I love you.” I silently cry. “I love you more baby..” Matt says, softly hugging me closer, his arms around my torso. This very same night we cuddle eachother close, not knowing if it’s gonna be the last time.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

The next morning I wake up still cuddled up with Matt, my heart heavy. It’s soon, but I know I should house hunt right now. Because if I don’t leave soon, I don’t think I ever will. I sit up taking myself out of matt’s arms gently, not wanting to wake up, but he stirs awake anyway and yanks me down pulling me closer. It hurts so bad but this feels so good.

I spend the next week house hunting, not finding anything that feels like home yet. No where is home if Matt isn’t with me. Matt is my home.

Matt and I still act like a couple, because we know this won’t be for much longer, and it felt like how it used to be, when we first got together. Innocent and sweet. It hurts to know we’re letting this go. I feel like we just gave up on what we have too soon. I don’t want to let it all go.

Matt comes with me to check out a house and when we walk in, we instantly feel like this is the one for me. It was small and cozy, which I love since it’s only gonna be me. Only me.

I sign the papers and buy the house, with a smile on my face, but it fades once I remember the circumstances. My things are still at my old Matt’s place, already all packed up.

We walk into Matt’s room which once was mine too, after loading all my boxes of belongings into the u-haul. It feels empty and I take a look at his face and all I see is dread and tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Matt..” I almost whisper. I grab his hand pulling him closer to bring him into a hug, and he breaks into sobs. I’ve never heard matt cry, not like this. Tears roll down my cheeks as we hug again.

“P-please- Please don’t go yet.. i just want- need one more night with you..please-” He chokes out, stuttering and sobbing. “Okay.. I would love that..” I say softly, sniffing while cupping his face, lifting it so that I can look at him with a smile and I kiss his salty teary lips.

It was time for bed and I decide to shower. I go to the bathroom and I get undressed before getting in and letting the water run over my body. I hear the bathroom door open and I open the curtain, finding Matt undressing himself to join me.

Before I could even say anything he opens the curtain wider and gets in, kissing me sweetly and softly. We shower together while showering eachother with love.

When we finish, Matt turns the shower faucet off then helps me out the shower. Once we’re out he dries my hair and naked body with the towel before doing the same to himself.

We brush our teeth, still just in towels and when we finish Matt gently grabs my chin, turning my head to face him and he kisses me. It gets deeper by the second but no faster. It was lust-filled but in the sweetest way.

He lifts me up by my thighs gripping them and takes me to the room, closing the door and gently putting me on the bed before crawling on top of me and slowly removing the towel, kissing me passionately once again. He makes his way to my neck slowly, taking his time, being gentle.

We make slow but sweet passionate love all night, and tears were shed during it, but after we cuddled eachother close and held on tight because now we knew for sure that this was our last night together. We fall asleep in eachother’s arms, not ready to let go.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

Matt’s Pov:

I wake up in the morning with y/n’s arms and legs tied around me and it hits me that this is our last day together, which also happens to mark our 5 year anniversary..

I want to take back what I said. What I said about us not working. I regret it. But I know it’s too late and the damage is already done.

I don’t know what i’m gonna do without her. She’s my light, and I can’t believe I’m this stupid enough to be letting someone like her go. I love her and I can’t imagine my life without her.

She was supposed to be my wife. The mother of my children. The one who I was supposed to grow old with. The one who I would be telling stories with to our kids about how we met and fell in love. I messed it up, and now I can’t take it back, but i’ve hurt her enough.

I feel y/n start to stir awake and I brush her hair out of her face, looking down at her with a loose genuine smile. “Good morning baby..” I say leaning down towards her face to give her a sweet kiss on the tip of her nose then on the corner of her lips.

“Good morning..” She smiles with grogginess in her eyes. Her smile pulling at my heartstrings. “Happy 5 year anniversary, my love.” I say kissing her lips this time. Her smile fades and her face is in a frown. Her eyes well up which makes mine too. “I know.. I know..” I hold her close as we cry together as I occasionally kiss her forehead. I wipe her tears before kissing her forehead one last time and we get up and get dressed up for the day.

We make breakfast while messing around and laughing together, and I couldn’t help but hang onto our love that’s still here and after breakfast I feel so much affection towards her.

“Hey, why don’t I take you out for dinner tonight?” I ask her pulling her closer by the waist. “Why not?” She agrees with a big smile on her face. I lean down to peck her lips softly. “Perfect, i’ll take you home so that you can get ready then i’ll be back to pick you up” I say enthusiastically. She nods and leans up, standing up on her tip toes to give me a kiss.

I grab my keys and I lead her to the car to take her home. We get in and on the drive there we listen to music and talk about whatever we felt like talking about.

Once we get there, she grabs her purse from between her legs and she give me a kiss. “See you later..” She says with a small but sweet smile. “See you later baby..” I say, giving her a warm smile. She walks off to her front door and she opens it, going inside and shutting the door behind her, I start the car and I drive back home. I was determined to make this the best last date. Just for her.

1,250 words.

A/N: (thought this was gonna be the last part but I got exhausted and didn’t wanna wait to post it so part 5 is coming out tomorrow and is gonna be the last part!! I got so emotional making this part omgggg, writing angst is not for the weakkkk😭)

Taglist: @watercolorskyy @starzinasblog @imwetforyourmom @urfavstromboli @sturniqloo @star-yawnznn @h3arts4harry

[eggyrocks]

GET BACK CHAPTER FOUR

step four: impress her

masterlist

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE

goatkuto (07:34:23): GAME DAY GAME DAY GAME DAY goatkuto (07:34:49): ARE YOU PUMPED? GET PUMPED goatkuto (07:35:14): LISTEN TO MISS THEE STALLION AND GET PUMPED

She doesn’t look at Bokuto once. The whole time she’s there, her eyes never leave Hinata.

Through the cheers of the crowd and the echo of the announcements, all she can focus on is him. He’s not the same as he was in high school. It’s different now, everything about him. There’s a precision and a confidence in his movements that didn’t exist before. Whether he’s crouching for a receive or soaring for a spike, everything is natural, like his body is meant to do this.

Brazil was good to him. She admits that, however reluctantly.

She’s grateful for his focus, for the seemingly immense distance between him on the court and her in the stands. She doesn’t want to explain herself to him, why she can’t, even for a second, look away from him as he plays. Why she can’t focus on anything but him. Why when Akaashi reaches down to take hold of her hand and squeeze it slightly, she can’t even feel it. It doesn’t even make sense to her.

And when the match ends, something catches in her throat. It feels nostalgic to watch Hinata throw his fist up in victory, a yell escaping his chest. At it’s that same bout of nostalgia that makes her feel like she needs to rush the court and leap into his arms, like she used to. To kiss every inch of his face and ignoring the sweat that makes his uniform cling to his skin. To push the strands of orange hair out of his forehead and squeal as his arms squeezed around her middle. To listen to him call her his good luck charm.

Instead, she squeezes Akaashi’s hand in return, choking down her tears for later, and acknowledges that it was a mistake to come.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

She tries to give Akaashi and Bokuto their space and their privacy, standing outside of the gym, awkwardly holding her jacket in her arms and turning her head to avoid seeing an embrace that’s not meant for her to see. But Akaashi’s her ride home, so she lingers.

“Hey.”

When she hears his voice, it’s not unexpected. She was preparing for this outcome, but still, her heart leaps when she looks up and sees Hinata there, gym bag thrown over his shoulder and ends of his hair still dripping from the shower. She swallows. She’s not sure if it’s the sadness or the nerves that account for the irregularity. “Hey,” she replies.

Hinata stares at her, but keeps his distance, leaving a healthy few feet between him. Like he’s afraid of getting his head bitten off if he gets too close. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Just waiting for Keiji,” she says, head gesturing back slightly to where Bokuto and Akaashi are, tucked around the corner in the back of the gym, away from prying eyes. “Ride home.”

“Oh, okay.”

Hinata doesn’t want to leave. She can see it in his posture, how he’s leaning in towards her without actually taking a step closer. For as much as he’s changed, grown into himself and matured and aged, he’s still the same. Bold and nervous at the same time. Awkward and forward. Honest about what he wants but embarrassed about it.

She throws him a bone. “You played good today.”

He takes it, perking up immediately. She can see it in his eyes. “Really? You think?”

She remembers this, from when they were dating. How hard it was to stay mad at him when they were fighting. He was always so well-intentioned, always desperately wanting to please her, impress her, earn her praise. Remembering hardens her resolve. “Yeah, you must’ve learned a lot in Brazil,” she comments. “Seems like it was worth it.”

She can see the implication hit him. Hinata’s face falls, and he breathes out her name in a way that makes goosebumps rise on the back of her neck. He takes a step forward, remembers himself, and then steps back again. “Please let me apologize for-“

“Can I ask you something?” she interjects, tilting her head slightly. Hinata nods his head. “Did you think I’d just be waiting for you this whole time? That my life would just stop until you got back?”

“I was waiting for you,” is his answer, earnest and immediate. She inhales sharply. “It never crossed my mind to do anything else. This whole time, you’ve been the only person I’ve ever…”

He trails off. Hinata’s unsaid words hang limply in the space between them. And she doesn’t know what else she was expecting from him.

Her name is called from behind her. She whips around to see Akaashi standing behind her, waiting expectantly. She doesn’t look back at Hinata as she turns on her heel to join him. Underneath the jacket in her arms, her hands are shaking. It was a mistake to talk to him, too.

extras!

yn has pushover tendencies

akaashi goes to every game he can and he always tries to bring someone along to cheer for bokuto with him

it was probably halfway through the match when he realized the error of his ways

but bokuto (hinata loyalist) asked him to bring her and akaashi (simp) couldn’t say no

this chapter is short but i just wanted to get it out while i had the motivation

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @guitarstringed-scars @ahdbodhr @nbcvs @garfieldissocool @shoyobub @iheartpinky @choerry-picking @mollyrolls @stoopidbruh @yogurtkags @yuminako @rockleeisbaeeee @Lisoozi @michivrse @19calicos @sawyersloanie @bailey-reeds @staileykout @kitskasoboring @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @enervante-cochon @loveelylacey @atsumuenthusiast @qualitygiantshoepsychic @alpha-mommy69 @acowboykisser @milesmoralesluvs @Himbo_joestar @kinsies-blog @3lectraheart @1lovestrawberrymilk @dailyakira @lvtilzs @miliondollagirl @strxwberri-s @kokoblep @muskratlove @honeyfewr @paulaaaa-b0 @keeboismine @miiyas @s1ckntw1st3d @s777athv @itsdragonius @t5ukishimakeis @primaverx

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for derpsheep behind the cut; weird amnesia Timberkon. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You can recognize their heartbeats?” Bernard asks incredulously–that is a very creepy and invasive thing to recognize about someone, much less be passively listening to, what the fuck–and then frowns. “Wait, got back from where?” 

“Long story,” Superboy mutters. “Alternate realities were involved. It sucked. But I got back here, and it’s supposed to be right, and there’s people I recognize, but there’s . . . different people, too. And no one here recognizes me. And I thought . . .” 

“That you were either totally insane or just stranded in the wrong reality for no discernable reason with no idea how to find the right one?” Bernard assumes. 

“That, yeah,” Superboy says tightly. “Definitely that.” 

“Good news, I guess, if you are insane, it’s a shared delusion, and if you’re in the wrong reality, so am I,” Bernard says. “Because again, I definitely remember you. And Hawaii. And Superman being dead. And like, all that shit in general. Also you kinda died that one time too? There was a statue, I’m pretty sure. Actually I think there were two.” 

Superboy’s smile is tight and humorless, and he digs his fingers into the inside of his wrist. Bernard has no clue how a dude in such severe and obvious distress can look so fucking good about, like . . . literally everything he’s got going on over there. It’s a lot of “everything”, is all. Superboy is a lot no matter what, obviously, but still. Like, extra a lot. Secret bonus levels of a lot. 

A lot. 

“I mean, there used to be,” Superboy says, and the pained smile he’s wearing turns–bitter, kind of. 

Fuck, Bernard feels so bad for this dude. Like so many levels of so bad. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I need to google some shit,” he says as he digs his phone out. Tim is clearly taking his sweet-ass time in the bathroom, and since he isn’t actually in there waiting for Superboy, it’s gotta be a Bat thing, which usually gives him a good fifteen or twenty minutes of fuck-around time before Tim makes it back with the weak excuse du jour. Or, like, three and a half weeks, one very memorable and kinda fucking awful time that Bernard had spent wondering if jumping into the timestream was how vigilantes ghosted you. “And maybe check some forums or something.” 

“I don’t think ‘is this weird dude at the boba shop crazy’ is gonna pop up on Bing, man,” Superboy says, still wearing the same bitter smile. Bernard wonders why he didn’t just go to the Justice League and explain himself to them. Like, they’d probably believe him, right? Or at least they wouldn’t instantly not believe him; they’d check things out or whatever. 

Alternately, though: half-Kryptonian full-telekinetic with Lex Luthor’s DNA and Superman’s face who doesn’t even know if he’s crazy or not.  

So like . . . that seems like an awkward conversation to have with Superman, maybe, Bernard allows. Or just fucking agonizing and terrifying and wildly, wildly likely to end in one of those stupid misunderstanding-based super-fights and, like, maybe also getting drop-kicked into the Phantom Zone because said stupid fight would be against Superman and that is, apparently, what Superman usually does with supervillain Kryptonians. And probably Superboy is having some very understandable issues about getting drop-kicked out of reality right now, if that’s a concern he’s had. Which–the Phantom Zone isn’t the same thing as an alternate reality, as far as Bernard’s aware, but also what the fuck does he know about the Phantom Zone? 

Bernard googles, in quick succession: Superman’s death, the Phantom Zone, and Superboy. He gets a ton of articles and photographs and blog posts with absolutely zero trace of Superboy in a single one of them, a lot of contradicting intel about what the hell the Phantom Zone actually is, and also some blurry candid photos of a ten year-old in ripped jeans and an S-shield hoodie that he’s never seen before in his life. 

. . . so that’s weird, yeah, Bernard observes, blinking down at his phone. 

“Huh,” he says, brow furrowing. “Hey, should I know this kid?” 

“Did you literally just google ‘Superboy’?” Superboy asks, which is notably not an answer to Bernard’s question. 

“Obviously, yeah, the entire internet is in my pocket, why would I not do that,” Bernard replies reasonably, still scrolling through random photos of this completely unrecognizable kid. Said kid continues to look like a total fucking stranger and Bernard continues to have zero clue who he is or why he’s wearing the “S”. Another clone, maybe? Like, an even mini-er mini-Super? Bernard can’t see his face all that clearly in any of the pics, still, but he’s at least got Superman’s coloring, it looks like. 

“Because Tim would give you shit about it, probably, I don’t know,” Superboy lies, because he very obviously does know. Probably better than Bernard does himself, come to think of it, which is kind of a weird thought but also, like, an obviously objectively true one. Superboy’s spent a lot more time with Tim than he has, even having been, like . . . unrealitied and all. 

God, that is still so disturbing a concept, too. 

[urdreamydoodles]

Hello could we get an all headcanon list of how the x-men would cheer up their S/O failing during training and the S/O feels bad?

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

How they handle your frustration of failing during training (Part.1)

You struggles with your powers during training, feeling frustrated and defeated. Each X-Man—uses their unique approach to provide comfort, guidance, and encouragement, helping you regain confidence and control.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Erik Lehnsherr, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Wade Wilson, Rogue, Wanda Maximoff & Pietro Maximoff

This headcanons gives me a warm feeling, and I hope it will be the same for you guys ♡ Thank you for this prompt. Hope you like it — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- You’ve been pushing yourself during training for days, trying to keep up with Logan’s intense regimen. But no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to get that one move right. Today is no different. You misstep during a combat drill and hit the mat hard, frustration bubbling up as you fail again. Before you can even rise to your feet, Logan is already there, offering a hand to help you up, though his brows are furrowed in concern rather than disappointment.

- "Yer pushin’ too hard, darlin’," he says gruffly, his voice low but soft. He kneels beside you, not quite touching, but close enough for you to feel the warmth of his presence. His hand brushes against your shoulder as he helps you sit up. "Ain’t no need to be perfect. Everyone screws up." The way he looks at you is steady, unshakeable, as if to remind you that failure doesn’t make you any less strong in his eyes. He’s seen enough failure in his lifetime to know that it doesn’t define you.

- You vent your frustration, feeling defeated, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. Logan listens patiently, the rare moments of vulnerability that you share with him something he takes seriously. He waits for you to finish before he sighs, a sound that’s not quite exasperated but full of understanding. "Ya can’t be hard on yourself like that, sweetheart. Nobody gets it right all the time, not even me." He gestures toward his own scars, the ones that haven’t fully healed despite his regeneration. "I’ve been fightin’ for longer than you’ve been alive, and I still screw up. That’s how ya learn."

- His arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you in close against him. Logan isn’t big on words of comfort, but actions speak louder with him. He holds you tightly, letting you lean into his strength. "We’ll keep workin’ on it, but don’t think for a second that failin’ makes ya weak. Yer stronger than ya know, and I’ll be right here helpin’ ya see that." His voice is gravelly, but there’s an undeniable warmth in it. Logan might be tough, but for you, he’s a steady anchor, never letting you feel like you’re truly failing.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- The training room is silent except for the sound of your breathing and the faint swish of cards flying through the air. You’ve been training hard with Remy, but tonight you just can’t seem to keep up. You miss your targets one after another, frustration mounting in your chest. Finally, you throw down your weapon in defeat, sinking to your knees as a rush of embarrassment and anger overtakes you. Before you know it, Remy is there, crouching beside you with a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

- "Cherie, what’s all dis about?" His voice is low and teasing, but there’s no real mockery in it. He scoops up the fallen weapon and twirls it between his fingers like it’s nothing, making you realize how effortlessly talented he is. "Ain’t no reason to get all worked up." You look at him, half-expecting him to laugh at your failure, but Remy doesn’t do that. Instead, he nudges you lightly with his shoulder, that charming grin never fading. "We all got days like dis. Even ol’ Gambit ain’t perfect."

- You explain how much it bothers you that you’re not getting it right, and Remy listens with a surprising amount of patience, leaning in close. He takes your hand in his, twirling a card between his fingers as he talks. "Y’know, cher, de best t’ieves don’t get caught by bein’ perfect. Dey get caught by not knowin’ how to improvise." He winks at you, the red in his eyes gleaming mischievously. "You gotta learn t’ roll wit’ de punches. Missin’ a mark ain’t nothin’ but a chance to find a better way."

- He rises to his feet, extending a hand to you, his eyes twinkling with a playful confidence that somehow makes you feel better without even trying. "C’mon, let ol’ Remy show ya how to turn a mistake into a masterpiece." When you take his hand, he pulls you close, spinning you around in a mock dance before setting you back on your feet. "Next time, when you miss, just smile like it was part of de plan." His charm and confidence radiate through every word, and though he doesn’t take life too seriously, he has a way of making you see that failure isn’t the end of the world. With Remy, even messing up can be fun.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- The training session is supposed to be routine, just another round of practicing your abilities under Kurt’s guidance. But today, everything feels off. You stumble over your moves, unable to get the timing right. The frustration builds until you lash out, teleporting too recklessly and crashing into the ground, embarrassed and angry with yourself. Before you can even process it, a familiar 'bamf' fills the air, and Kurt is by your side, his blue hand gently touching your shoulder.

- "It’s alright, mein Liebling," Kurt’s voice is soft, soothing in a way that immediately calms your fraying nerves. He crouches next to you, his glowing yellow eyes filled with concern but not an ounce of judgment. "Training is hard for everyone. Even I had my share of accidents." His tail swishes behind him, playful and light, as if trying to lift your spirits with its gentle motion. He leans in closer, offering a small, supportive smile. "You are far more capable than you think."

- You voice your frustrations, feeling like you’re failing at something you should have mastered by now. Kurt listens, not interrupting once. He’s always been a patient listener, especially when it comes to you. After a moment, he takes your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles softly. "We all fall sometimes, Liebling. But we get back up. You know why?" He tilts his head, his expression gentle yet confident. "Because we are stronger than we realize. And I know you, you are strong."

- With a quick teleportation, Kurt brings you both to your feet, holding your hands in his as he stands behind you, guiding your next move. "Let’s try again, ja? Together this time." His presence is warm, comforting, and unwavering. As you train again, his encouraging words follow every move, helping you correct each mistake without making you feel bad. By the end, you feel more confident, his belief in you helping to dispel your self-doubt. Kurt’s kindness and faith in you always have a way of making everything feel a little more possible.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Training with Erik is always intense. His expectations are high, and you’ve been working tirelessly to control your powers under his strict guidance. Today, though, nothing seems to be working. You fail again, and frustration hits hard as you watch Erik’s face, waiting for the inevitable disappointment. Instead, he stands silently, arms crossed, watching you carefully before he finally approaches, his sharp gaze softening just slightly.

- "You are capable of so much more than this," Erik says, his voice deep and unwavering. There’s no anger in his words, but the weight of his belief in you makes your heart twist. He walks closer, stopping just inches away, his hand lifting to rest against your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man known for his cold, calculating demeanor. "Failure is not a weakness. It is a stepping stone. You are learning, not failing." His confidence in you is absolute, even when you doubt yourself.

- You try to explain how hard it’s been, how the pressure is getting to you, but Erik doesn’t let you spiral. He interrupts gently, his voice firm but not unkind. "Do you think I was born with control?" He gestures around the training area, his magnetic power subtly manipulating the metal in the room. "I struggled. I failed. But I refused to let it defeat me. And so will you." There’s no room for doubt in Erik’s mind when it comes to you. His belief in your potential is unshakable, even when you’re at your lowest.

- Erik steps back, his posture regal, but there’s a flicker of softness in his eyes meant only for you. "We’ll begin again," he says, but this time, his hand lingers on your shoulder, a rare display of affection. "But you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. Do not forget that." His words, combined with his touch, make you feel more grounded, more capable. Erik may be hard on you, but it’s because he knows what you’re capable of, and he refuses to let you give up on yourself.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- Scott is always a patient instructor. You’ve been training with him for weeks, but today, everything seems off. You’re fumbling with your powers, unable to hit any of the targets he set up, and frustration is boiling inside of you. Finally, you drop your head, feeling defeated, expecting Scott to lecture you on precision and discipline, as he often does. But instead, he approaches quietly, a gentle look on his face.

- "Hey," Scott says softly, his voice calm and steady. He places a hand on your arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It’s okay to have bad days." His hand moves to your chin, tilting your head up so you meet his gaze. "You’re not failing. You’re learning." The way he says it, with so much belief in you, makes it hard to stay upset with yourself. Scott is always so calm, so sure, and it’s easy to forget that he’s been in your shoes before.

- You sigh, telling him how useless you feel today, but Scott just shakes his head with a small smile. "Do you think I’ve never messed up?" His tone is kind, and he chuckles softly. "I’ve failed more times than I can count. Controlling these powers—it takes time, patience, and trust in yourself. And I trust you." His words make something inside of you ease, the pressure lifting just a bit as he steps closer, brushing a hand across your back.

- "We’ll keep at it," he says, his confidence in you never wavering. "Together." He doesn’t push you to try again immediately, instead taking a moment to stand by your side, his quiet presence enough to make you feel less alone in your frustration. "I’m proud of you, you know? For sticking with it, even when it’s hard." His praise is gentle but sincere, and in that moment, you realize that Scott isn’t just your teacher—he’s your partner in this, always ready to lift you up when you fall. With him by your side, failure doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- Jean has always been understanding, especially when it comes to the challenges of training. Today, though, you can’t seem to get anything right. Your powers are erratic, slipping out of your control, and you’re overwhelmed by the weight of it all. You stumble and fall during an exercise, burying your face in your hands out of frustration. Before you can even process your emotions, Jean is kneeling beside you, her telepathic presence a gentle, soothing hum in the back of your mind.

- "Hey," Jean says softly, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. She doesn’t push you to get up right away. Instead, she reaches out, taking your hands in hers, giving you a moment to collect yourself. "It’s okay to struggle," she whispers, her words wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "I’ve been where you are." There’s no judgment in her tone, just an endless well of patience and empathy, something Jean has always had for you.

- You try to explain how overwhelmed you feel, but before you can say too much, Jean gently presses a hand to your forehead, sending a wave of calm through your mind. "Breathe," she whispers, helping you find your center. "You’re not alone in this. I know exactly how it feels when everything gets out of control." Her own experiences with her powers, with the Phoenix Force, make her the perfect person to understand what you’re going through. She knows how terrifying it can be to lose control, and she’s there to guide you through it.

- Jean helps you back to your feet, but she doesn’t rush you to continue the training. Instead, she wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you close. "We’ll take this one step at a time," she assures you, her telepathic presence still brushing against your thoughts, offering you comfort and strength. "And I’ll be here, every step of the way." Her faith in you, her unwavering support, makes you feel like you can handle anything, even the hardest days. With Jean beside you, you know you’ll never face your challenges alone.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

- Training with Wade is always unpredictable. One minute, he’s cracking jokes and making everything feel like a wild circus, and the next, you’re actually trying to focus on controlling your powers. Today, though, you’re struggling, and nothing seems to be going right. You’re feeling frustrated and defeated, your powers misfiring left and right, and Wade’s relentless humor isn’t helping. "Why so serious, babe?" he says with a grin, tossing his katanas in the air like it’s no big deal. You sigh, not in the mood for his antics.

- Wade notices. He may be goofy and seemingly oblivious, but when it comes to you, he’s sharper than he lets on. His voice drops a notch, and before you can say anything, he’s suddenly right in front of you, flipping his mask halfway up so you can see his expression. "Okay, let’s hit pause on the jokes for a second. You’re beating yourself up, and I don’t like seeing that." His tone is sincere, and it throws you off because Wade rarely shows this side. He cups your face in his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheeks, and gives you a rare, genuine smile. "You’re not failing, babe. You’re a badass who’s just having an off day."

- You let out a long breath, admitting how hard it’s been to keep up with your training lately. Wade, in typical Deadpool fashion, takes your hand and pulls you into a ridiculous dance, twirling you around like you’re in the middle of a ballroom. "You know what we need? A dance break. Clears the mind, lifts the spirit, and gives you an excuse to hold onto this sexy body of mine." His playful charm is disarming, and though you try to stay serious, you can’t help but laugh. That’s what Wade does best—he makes you forget about your worries, even for a little while.

- After a few spins and twirls, Wade stops, his hands still holding yours, his eyes uncharacteristically focused. "We’ll keep working on it, together, okay? You’ve got this. And if you ever feel like quitting, I’ll just annoy the crap out of you until you’re too distracted to care." He winks, and though he’s back to his usual goofy self, the love and support behind his words are crystal clear. Wade might joke around a lot, but when it comes to cheering you up, he knows exactly what to do.

Rogue (Anna Marie)

- Training with Rogue can be tough. Not because she pushes you too hard, but because you can see how much she cares, and you hate letting her down. Today, nothing is going right, and your frustration builds with every failed attempt. You collapse onto the floor, defeated, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on your shoulders. Rogue is there in an instant, kneeling beside you, her gloved hand resting gently on your arm. "Hey, it’s alright, sugah," she says softly, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "Ain’t nobody perfect."

- Rogue sits beside you, her touch careful as always, and you can feel her empathy radiating off her. She’s no stranger to struggling with powers, especially ones that feel out of control. "I know how hard it is," she says, her southern drawl as comforting as ever. "Trust me, I’ve been there. But you’re not alone in this." Her words are soft but filled with conviction, reminding you that she knows exactly how it feels to be overwhelmed by abilities you can’t always control.

- You voice your frustration, telling her how you feel like a failure, but Rogue just shakes her head, her green eyes kind and understanding. "Listen," she says gently, "failure don’t define you. It’s how you get back up that does." She pulls you into a gentle hug, careful with her touch as always, and you can feel the sincerity in her words. "You’ve come so far already, and I know you’ve got what it takes to keep goin’. Don’t be so hard on yourself." Rogue’s support is unwavering, and her belief in you starts to make you believe in yourself again.

- After a moment, Rogue pulls back and gives you a warm smile. "How ‘bout we try again, but this time, we take it slow?" she suggests, her tone gentle but encouraging. "We’ll get through this together. You don’t have to do it alone." With Rogue by your side, the pressure eases, and you feel a renewed sense of determination. She’s not just your partner—she’s your rock, always there to lift you up when you’re feeling down.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- Training with Wanda is a delicate balance between pushing your limits and finding peace with your powers. You’ve been working hard, but today, it feels like everything is falling apart. Your powers are out of control, and every mistake feels like a personal failure. You stand in the middle of the training room, your hands trembling, and you can’t seem to stop the frustration bubbling inside. Wanda watches from a distance, her face calm, but you know her well enough to see the concern in her eyes.

- Without a word, Wanda steps closer, her presence calming in a way that only she can be. She doesn’t rush to comfort you with empty words. Instead, she reaches out, her fingers brushing lightly against your arm, her magic weaving softly through the air around you. "Take a breath," she says quietly, her voice soothing. "It’s okay to feel frustrated, but don’t let it consume you." Her powers, always so controlled and graceful, seem to hum in sync with yours, and the chaotic energy swirling around you begins to settle.

- You tell her how you feel like you’re losing control, how the training has been harder than ever, but Wanda listens patiently. "I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed by your powers," she says softly, her gaze distant for a moment, as if remembering her own struggles. "But you’re stronger than you think." She steps closer, her hand finding yours, and her touch is warm, grounding. "You have a gift, and with time, you’ll learn to master it. But for now, give yourself the space to grow. It doesn’t have to happen all at once."

- Wanda’s magic intertwines with yours, not in a forceful way, but as if she’s guiding you, showing you how to find balance. "Let’s try again," she says gently, her hand still holding yours. "But this time, don’t focus on getting it perfect. Just focus on feeling the flow of your power." With her calm guidance and unshakable support, you feel the tension in your chest ease. Training with Wanda isn’t just about control—it’s about learning to trust yourself, and with her by your side, you know you can face whatever challenges come your way.

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

- Training with Pietro is intense. He’s constantly moving at a pace that’s impossible to keep up with, and even though you’ve gotten used to his rapid speed, today feels like a total disaster. Your powers aren’t working as they should, and every time you try to focus, you feel like you’re falling further behind. You groan in frustration as Pietro zips by, his voice already coming from the other side of the training room. "Come on, babe, you’re doing fine!" he calls out, but the speed in his tone makes it sound like everything’s easy when it’s not.

- Seeing your frustration, Pietro finally stops in his tracks, appearing right in front of you in a blur. His cocky grin fades as he notices the seriousness in your eyes. "Hey, hey," he says, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "I get it. I move fast, but this… this doesn’t need to go that fast." He places his hands on your shoulders, his blue eyes softening. "You’re not failing. You’re just thinking too much, trying too hard. You need to relax, slow down—well, you know, as much as you can around me."

- He steps back and starts pacing, but at a slower, more human pace than his usual blur. "Listen, I may be fast, but I’ve had my fair share of screw-ups. Like, that time I tried to outrun a lightning storm and got zapped. Not my brightest moment." His self-deprecating humor pulls a reluctant smile from you. Pietro smirks, seeing that he’s lightened the mood. "The point is, everyone screws up. It doesn’t mean you’re any less amazing." His confidence is infectious, and you feel a spark of motivation return.

- Pietro takes your hand, this time moving at a pace you can manage, guiding you through the training slowly. "We’ll get there, one step at a time. You don’t need to rush. And when you’re ready to speed things up," he flashes a grin, "I’ll be right here to keep up." Training with Pietro can be overwhelming, but with his unwavering support and playful attitude, he always manages to lift you up and keep you moving forward—even if it’s at a slower pace than he’s used to.

[vevobly]

What if I have asthma and dating nat? 😔

Dating Nat But You're Asthmatic Headcanons

A/N: You ask and I provide. Devour and enjoy, Anon! :D

Natalie didn't know about it at first. She pretty much assumed you were just like her, free from diseases and all that shit. It's not until some random day while she's smoking, when she passes her cigarette for you to try, that you decide to tell her that you're asthmatic.

Cue Nat's confusion and surprise! Oh, and a little bit of anger at that. I mean, why the fuck didn't you tell her that before? She smokes a shit ton of cigarettes. That, itself, could be way fucking dangerous to you.

(You just shrug it off with “it never came up” and Nat becomes fucking pissed.)

Since then, though. Nat became very hyper aware of your triggers. She'd always be looking out for things like smoke and dust, steering you away from any of it before you even notice.

Granted, she still smokes. She just toned it down a bit, especially around you. Most of the time when she smokes, she makes sure to step far away from you. When she's done, she'll come back to you, smelling like mint gum most of the time.

Sometimes, when you catch her smoking, she'll literally just throw away her cigarette. Dusting her clothes off to get rid of any ashes from her cigarette earlier that might have fallen on it.

Believe it or not, Natalie even fucking got an inhaler just for you. (She said it was in case of emergencies when you found out about it) She always keeps it in her jacket's pocket or tucked away in her bag.

With that, you can bet your ass she jokes a lot about being your personal inhaler holder. She can't fool you, you know her too well now. And you can tell she likes feeling being needed by you in that way.

Nat tried quitting smoking before, just for you. And while it succeeds for a while before she slips back into it, you appreciate it. I mean, it just goes to show how much she actually loves you.

When you have an asthma attack, Natalie will be hella determined and panicking at the same time. She’ll just be right there, urging you to stay calm while trying not to freak out herself. Once it's all over and dealt with, she’ll give you a stern “don’t scare me like that again” and cuddle with you quietly after. She'll still be on edge from the whole thing happening, though.

Bonus! You can think of it however you like, but Natalie loves hearing you breathe. It's just, I don't know? Reassuring. It calms her down just to hear you being alive. Sometimes, she'll even lay her head against your chest, listen to your heartbeat and all that. It kinda grounds her, you know? Knowing you're here, with her, well and not dead yet at least. She doesn't know what she would do without you—

[genderqueerdykes]

this may not be your wheelhouse and if so feel free to ignore but: do you know how to get past the sense of imposter syndrome wrt being punk? like. i'm punk, have always been will always be, it's objectively not debatable. but i've had to make some very un-punk decisions (ex. getting a degree and a normie job) in order to survive. and i haven't been well enough to do the work out on the streets or go to the venues in a while now. obviously i didn't magically become a poser, i still know the music, history, fashion, theory, etc... but i still kinda feel like a fraud :/ any advice?

you know, that's a pretty good question, actually, because i've noticed in a lot of alternative scenes, people really like to get uppity and make fun of people who are just getting into it, or may be into it for a while and then move on

i noticed it firsthand when i lived with other punks in a house venue. i saw probably hundreds of people filtering in and out of there over the course of months and a lot of conversations were leftist infighting and it just kinda became the same old garbage over and over again. some people have superiority complexes that make them feel "Above" everyone around them because they are counterculture. it can become a bit tiresome

what i would say, is that you cannot make decisions that line up with your beliefs/politics/etc. all the time. anticapitalists still need to make money. punks very well may need an established career in order to survive. people who live in food deserts have to rely on shitty companies in order to get their groceries and necessities. i don't think that makes anyone 'unpunk', fortunately, because despite how much we despise this capitalist hellhole, we can't just magically exist completely outside of it without engaging in every single thing we oppose

there's no reason why a punk can't be 'formally employed', so to speak, because not everyone is capable of living off of donations or running their own shop, selling zines, selling customized clothing, selling things they've grown ethically and organically, and so on. the thing is, is money moves so fast in capitalism that two weeks can easily break you. most people are one missed paycheck away from the worst situation of their life

as long as you actually follow through with what you believe and stand for in the areas where you can, that's what's important. as long as you behave in a way that doesn't oppress others, support your local community, participate in harm reduction events, or whatever your specific focus is on breaking down the structures firmly built around us to divide us, you are very much a punk.

respect for others, standing up for one's self, and other's when possible in situations where remaining peaceful is not an option, unlearning racism, trans/misogyny, transandrophobia, transphobia, lesbophobia, homophobia, intersexism, biphobia, and other queerphobic beliefs, learning to respect demonized and heavily oppressed people such as people of color, homeless people, addicts, people with personality disorders, people with schizophrenia, people with bipolar disorder, people with DID, people with OCD, people with autism, people with ADHD, and other neurodivergent and mentally ill people, and breaking down other internalized oppressive structures in your own mind to prevent perpetuating it, you've achieved your goal

the thing is is not every punk is a master of punk history, most punks are in the scene to meet with like minded people who very well may have other interests outside of the community that take up more of their time. many people don't have the time to read up on literature and zines because they live transient or busy lives. many punks don't listen to entirely punk music, some don't listen to any at all. i don't listen to a lot of music, due to being autistic and easily overwhelmed by sound, myself, so that is an area that i am not super versed in. i have very basic knowledge from sitting around and listening to other punks and their music, but i'm more focused on activism. but that's exactly the thing:

not every punk is an activist, either. you can wade as far as you personally want to into these waters. there are different kinds of punks, for sure, and that's not a bad thing at all. some folks are really passionate about music and want to spread a message that way, but may not have the time to become involved with local activist organizations. some punks are in it for the art. some are in it because they like each others company and personalities. some people like that there are a lot of trans and queer people in general in the scene so they find it a safe place to meet other queer people. some people like the casual atmosphere and ability to do whatever substances they want with other people in a safe environment without judgment, and around other people who have experiences with these substances. some people literally just dress alternative and like hanging out with other people who do and that's not bad, either.

all of these are okay things

as long as you acknowledge where you're at and not pretend to know more than you really do, you'll be fine. ultimately it means lot of things to a lot of different punks and just like any other identity, every punk will describe it slightly differently. i thought i was an outcast because i was the only real activist in that household, most other folks were there to be around like minded people who hate the way out society is run, and that's totally okay. if that's their vibe, that's their vibe. i can't tell them they're not punk, what would be the point of that? they play in and listen to punk bands. i'd be an idiot to tell them they're not really punk, you know?

you are the one who defines what punk looks like for you, as it is your experience. don't worry about someone else bothering you about it unless you've genuinely stepped out of line and said something potentially fascist, racist, queerphobic, etc. be open to genuine criticism but if someone gives you shit for not knowing some obscure detail about punk history it's not worth your time. i literally knew a punk girl who ran an anarchist reading club and she herself didn't read the book and just listened to everyone else talk about it and discerned her opinion from there.

punks come in all kinds- however:

THE ONLY WAY TO NEVER, EVER BE PUNK IS TO BE A NAZI, COP, OR OTHER KIND OF FASCIST. queerphobes, abelists, racists and their enablers aren't welcome either.

that's the main takeaway, if you ask me. i hope that helps, i have imposter syndrome with a few mental health things so i understand, it's a pain in the ass. if you have any more questions feel free to ask!

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Loose

steddie, omegaverse, first time, unwed mothers’ home steve

It’s 1953, Steve is 16, Nancy is older, getting ready to leave for college early. Steve only realizes because he’s throwing up every day and Carol says it’s just like Tina before she went away last year. Steve is scared, but excited, because Nancy is so smart and pretty, he knows she’ll be able to take care of them, that they’ll have such beautiful babies.

But when he tells her, she immediately says, “We can’t keep it, Steve. It’s not like I’m going to marry you, like I’ll throw away my entire future!”

Steve just cradles his belly, murmurs, “But pups are the future…”

“I’m not having pups now. Everyone knows how desperate you smell all the time, how do I even know it’s mine?”

Steve cries. “I love you, Nance.”

“No, you don’t. We’re just kids.”

Steve doesn’t know what else to do after that, he tells his mother. She yells and throws things, asking, “God! What did I do to deserve this whore for a son?”

She’s mostly calmed down by the time his father comes home from work. Together, they make plans. Steve is sent away to an unwed mothers’ home two days later.

They take away his scent tokens. He doesn’t even get to keep the clothes he brought with him, wearing the same smock dresses as all the other residents.

He befriends a fellow omega, but Chrissy is already 7 months along, so he knows she will be gone soon.

Steve writes letters, begging to be brought home; his letters go unanswered. In reality, they are never sent.

He and Chrissy cuddle, approximating sharing a nest on her slim twin bed, scenting each other. Steve marvels at the feeling of Chrissy’s baby kicking and longs for the moment he will get to feel his own baby move. It happens the day Chrissy goes into labor, and Steve cries at the feeling. Then he cries again three days later when Chrissy comes home from the hospital, her pup taken from her, never even getting to hold him.

Her parents come to take her home that weekend. She promises to write to Steve, but the home matron intercepts those letters and burns them.

Steve rarely comes out of his rooms after that. Which means he’s in there when the janitor comes in to clean. Wayne Munson can’t stand the pain these poor omegas go through. He helped a few omegas procure illegal abortions in his youth, but now he does what he can for these unwed mothers. He sneaks little treats into rooms, especially chocolate. And he listens, offers a sympathetic ear, and to send letters for them.

Over the summer, he gets his nephew, Eddie, a job in the gardens, cutting the grass. And he tells him about Steve, how much the poor boy needs a friend.

Wayne convinces Steve to get outside and get some sunshine. Eddie is quiet, a perfect gentleman, simply waving hello.

Steve waves back, can’t help smiling. “You like going to the movies?” Eddie asks.

“We’re not allowed to leave the property,” Steve answers with a shrug.

“But do you like movies? Because you’ve missed some good ones, and I thought, maybe I could tell you about them.”

“I’d like that.”

Everyday Eddie tells Steve the plot of a movie or a book. He sneaks in the funny pages so they can laugh at the jokes together.

And then one day, Steve’s gone. He had his baby, and the nurses took her away and gave her to a nice, middle class, *married* couple.

Steve’s parents come to fetch him right away, so he doesn’t even get to say goodbye to Eddie. But he leaves a scrap of paper with his address in his room, hoping Wayne will find it.

He does. Eddie’s first letter comes barely a week later. They keep up their correspondence until Steve finishes high school. Then he packs his bags, steals $5000 from his father’s safe, and gets on a greyhound bus to Eddie.

Steve’s heart is in his throat as the Greyhound bus pulls into the Forest Hills station. What if Eddie doesn’t meet him? If he came all this way for nothing. He knows he shouldn’t think that.

But he’s scared. He’s just got a suitcase, and a decent chunk of it is taken up by all the letters Eddie has written him for the past 20 months. So much ink spilt over telling Steve about going out with friends, his job at the mechanic’s garage, all his plans for their future.

Steve wrote just as many letters back, telling Eddie everything as their friendship blossomed into an honest to god romance. He shared every important thought, every hope and dream, and only a little because he didn’t have anyone else to confide in.

He was a loose omega. No one talked about where he’d gone or why, but they all knew. Or their mothers kept them in the dark, simply saying the Harrington boy wasn’t allowed over anymore and they’d do best to stay away from him at school.

It was a lonely life, Steve can’t help worrying that Eddie will abandon him too, no matter how many sweet words and declarations of love are stuffed into his suitcase.

It doesn’t matter. All his worries fly away when he sees Eddie, waiting impatiently, holding a simple bouquet of white carnations, breaking into the biggest smile when Steve gets off the bus. Steve smiles and runs over to him, laughing when Eddie picks him up by the waist and spins him around, relieved to be wearing a girdle to contain the squish on his tummy.

“I missed you,” Eddie says gently, cupping Steve’s cheek.

They haven’t kissed yet, not being ready the last time they saw each other, and now… Steve feels like he’s spilled his very soul to Eddie, but the thought of touching lips has him suddenly shy.

Not Eddie though, he stares into Steve’s eyes, his own dark pools of devotion spilling over with want and holding him in place. Then he leans in.

The kiss is soft and sweet, lips closed. Steve is the one to push for more, to delicately trace his tongue along the seam of Eddie’s lips. That’s all the permission Eddie needs, the hand still on Steve’s waist pulling him in tighter.

Steve would happily kiss all afternoon, but Eddie pulls back with a grin and says, “We’ve got an appointment to keep, Sweetheart.”

Eddie takes him to the courthouse, and they meet Wayne there as their witness. Getting married is almost too easy, and Steve can’t help crying when he finally gets to sign his name as Mrs. Steven Munson. To have a family to love him rather than see him as their deepest shame.

From there, Wayne takes them out to dinner to celebrate, insisting that the newlyweds share the most expensive dessert on the menu. Steve keeps thanking Wayne for all he’s done, the old beta waving him off and assuring that it’s what he’d do for anyone, Steve just comes with the added bonus of making his nephew happy. Eddie squeezes his shoulder, silently promising that it’s true.

Then Eddie brings Steve home to their little apartment. “We’ll start looking for someplace bigger, once you’re settled. I didn’t want to pick a place you didn’t like; I know how important it is for an omega to feel comfortable at home, like it’s the right place for your nest.”

Steve practically pounces on Eddie at that, his desires overwhelming his nerves as they hurry to get out of their clothes, then Eddie freezes, staring at Steve in his bra and panties.

He presses his legs together, moves a hand to cover his soft belly where the elasticated waistband cinches in, flesh spilling over the top, stretch marks faded, but still visible.

He feels loose, and Eddie is just staring until suddenly he’s not. His hands pull Steve’s to the side as he murmurs, “Oh, Stevie, you’re beautiful. More beautiful than I ever imagined.”

“Eddie…”

“You are! My beautiful omega. My pretty wife. I love you no matter how you look, but you are too damn pretty for a fella like me.”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to praise. “You are my handsome husband. I don’t want anyone but you.”

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs, kissing him.

Things slow down as they remove their final layers, Eddie marveling at Steve’s naked body before finally covering him and sinking into the wet heat of him.

They make love, and Steve finally understands why people call it that, all his quick liaisons with Nancy focused on her needs as she pounded into him, the alpha coming as quickly as possible, never knotting him, to keep them from getting caught.

Eddie takes his time, uses his fingers to make Steve spill again after the first round, gently rubbing him from the inside and keeping him filled until they’re ready for round two.

Within the year, they have a little yellow house on a corner, flowers in the garden and a baby in the nursery named for his great uncle. Little Wayne isn’t a replacement for the pup that was taken from him, but Steve adores finally getting to be a mother.

Steve never stops missing his first baby. In 1978, she finds him, calling the house. Steve cries silently as she tells him about herself. Her name is Cathy (he always wanted to name her Marilyn), she grew up in Chicago, and now she’s studying to be a nurse. She asks if he would like to meet her, and he instantly says yes.

Eddie holds his hand as they wait in the little restaurant for her to arrive. They don’t bring the kids, but Steve has pictures to show of Cathy’s siblings. He has an old picture of Nancy, so she can see what her father looked like. Not that she needs one; Cathy looks just like Nancy, down to her button nose.

But all that matters to Steve is the fact that he gets to finally—FINALLY—hold his baby girl.

[meraki-yao]

Dropping in to say your crying at the vows Payneland was SUPERB! Is it too late for 🤬 Payneland? If so no stress at all! Your writing is awesome!

Hi! Oh my God, thank you so much! I'm glad you liked the last one! Thank you for the prompt and sorry for this being late!

🤬Argument with a family member

This is a human/alive AU by the way!

TW: Paul Rowland being a homophobic, abusive asshole, homophobic slurs

Charles freezes, his fiancé’s hand tightening on his arm. Standing in front of their wedding venue entrance, arguing with the security, is his father who he hasn’t seen in years. After struggling through university on his own and meeting Edwin Payne, he took off and ran far away from home, cutting all contact with his parents while building a new home with the love of his life. A few years down the line, he and Edwin created a cipher to communicate with his mother. But throughout all of this, they have deliberately steered clear of his father. His father, who beat him senseless; his father, who locked his lanky teenage self in the basement that he lived in since he was five; his father, who nearly ripped his pierce off his ear, calling him homophobic slur years before he came to terms with his bisexuality. After Charles confessed his trauma after a particularly violent nightmare, Edwin had held him and promised that he would never let Paul Rowland near him ever again. Charles had gripped his boyfriend’s waist and promised the same: he cannot ever let his father lay a hand on sweet, gentle, loving Edwin. But he’s here now, at their rehearsal dinner, and he can’t help but freeze at the sight. Why? How? What is he doing here? How did he find him out after so long? What do I do now? Charles’ eyes meet his dad’s and the next thing he knows, Paul Rowland is pushing the security guard to the ground and comes marching their way, the rage on his face horrifyingly familiar. He has to move, he has to leave, he has to protect Edwin— But he can’t move. He’s frozen in place, legs turned to jelly. He wants to scream and cry but only quick puffs of breaths come out. Just before his dad can shout a curse at them, Edwin suddenly steps forward, pushing Charles behind him. “Excuse me, sir.” He says eerily calmly, which is a sign that he’s actually angry. “I don’t believe you’re invite to this function. You are trespassing right now, please kindly leave the premise before we have to call the authorities.” “Move out of the way, you fag. I’m here to talk to my son.” Paul Rowland growls, and Charles flinches, he wants to grab Edwin’s hand and run. “As you can clearly see, Charles does not want to talk to you. Now, leave.” Edwin continue, not phased by the slur. “CHARLES! YOU FUCKING USELESS PIECE OF SHIT, HIDING BEHIND A FAIRY?” The familiar roar rings in Charles’ ear. He can’t fucking breathe oh God oh fuck— BAM! Edwin, his sweet Edwin who has always gravitated to words, who he has tried to get into boxing without much success, punches his dad square in the jaw. Both Rowlands stare at him in shock. “YOU FUCKER! HOW DARE YOU—” “No, you listen here.” Edwin states, a dangerous edge in his voice. “We have given you multiple warnings. I will not allow you to come here, ruin our joyous occasion and do any harm to my fiancé, physical or otherwise. The police can deal with you now, we’re done here.” He lays a hand on Charles’ back, gentle despite the situation, and leads him away as the police who have finally arrived come and pull his dad away for questioning. They’ll need to provide their recount too, but Edwin insisted that they’ll deal with that later. They enter the dressing room of the venue where Charles collapses onto a chair. Edwin kneels before him, hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping under his eyes. “Charles, please tell me what’s going on.” “No, it’s nothing, I’ll be fine I— Holy shit, Edwin, you punched my dad!” “Yes well, I very well couldn’t stand there and let him cause you even more distress, and he was clearly not going to listen to a word I say, sometimes actions do speak louder than words.” Charles pulls Edwin into his lap and wraps his arm around his waist, nose buried in his neck, breathing the familiar scent. Edwin’s hand goes to his curls as he presses kisses on to the top of his head. God, how lucky is he, to have such a wonderful person to call his? “We’ll be alright, my love,” Edwin whispers. “I promise, we’ll be alright.” Charles has never doubted him.

[solbaby7]

Hi, can I have an espresso martini, on the rocks? Oh and don't forget to add lime 😋

you guys always give me an inch with this angst shit and i continue to take a mile but the vibe is giving a starfall one night stand😬 bottoms up

[ “kiss me like that again and i’ll start thinking you’re in love with me” + smut/angst + rhysand ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Perhaps you were a glutton for punishment.

A feign for unfortunate situations where the odds are very obviously stacked against your favor and yet you can't help but lean into the girlish notion that everything will work out if you just believe hard enough.

You can't even count how many times you've wished on these same stars year after year, begging anyone who'll listen to just allow Rhysand to see you. To look your way and perceive more than just a kind person and a loyal friend. You wanted love proclamations, carefully curated poetry professing the same things you were too pussy to admit aloud.

Never once had your prayers been answered before.

It’s foolish to believe they’d be answered now when Rhysand saunters through and graces you with the time of day. Hope sets root in your chest when compliments drip from his tongue like honey, violet eyes roving over your figure with a practiced confidence. A ridiculous amount of money was spent on a Starfall dress and you’re positively preening by time your High Lord has a finger tracing along the bodice. “Wear this for me, did you?”

“No.” Yes.

A wicked smirk plasters itself across his face, handsome features accentuated by the brilliance of the night sky and the shooting stars decorating it—a god among common males. Your mother taught you better than to believe the senseless worship whispered when his mouth is on your neck, tongue tasting at your skin. Teeth biting and bruising in a way that can’t possibly be described as lovemaking with the way Rhysand carelessly tugs at fine fabrics to expose the soft expanse of bare skin underneath. “It certainly feels like you wore it for me. Perhaps only so I could take it off you.”

“Keep that up and your ego may grow bigger than whatever your hiding in your pants.” If that were even possible. You can feel the hard length of him lazily grinding against your belly as his hands explore the new terrain you’ve opened up to him. Nimble fingers expertly undoes your bra to toss it aside, replacing the slightly padded hold with warm palms instead.

Desperate groans tumble past your lips, back arching into his touch, hips rolling into the bulge that fuels the growing fire in your gut. “Take them off me and find out.”

How fucking long had you dreamed of this?

Of Rhysand’s hands sinking down your body, squeezing at the softness of your hips and toying with the dainty straps of your underwear. Blunt nails bite into the curve of your waist, drifting lower and lower until he’s pawing at handfuls of your ass.

Perhaps you show a touch too much of that covetous desire when lips meet, tongues touching and tastes intermingling. A haughty moan is coaxed from you as he takes the lead, chuckling breathlessly to himself when you begin to melt in his grasp. “Keep kissing me like that and I’ll start to think you’re in love with me or something.”

Somewhere deep down you know it’s just a harmless comment and yet the words hit you like a ton of bricks, weighing heavy on your chest and planting a seed of insecurity.

It’s just the way he says it—almost pitiful in its delivery.

Walls begin building its fortifications around your heart, emotions reigning themselves in to be safely tucked back in the conclaves of your ribs as your brain saunters forward with its hand outstretched.

The keys of control is handed over without fuss and your heart doesn’t bother looking back, all too familiar with this silent disappointment as it returns to its rightful place—in your chest and not offered to some pampered High Lord on a silver platter. “Your mouth has better uses than for talking,” Your voice lacks that blind devotion that usually pours free, spilling over and splashing at the shine of Rhysand’s shoes. “Or maybe I’m just giving you too much credit?”

“Too much credit?” The whiplash of your change in body language is obvious across regal features. And so is the interest that glows to life in aubergine irises. His touch is hungrier—filled with the need to please. To feed his ego with the feast of your moans and swallow you up like sweet ambrosia. “Let’s find out.”

You should be ecstatic; vibrating with anticipation when Rhys lifts you in the air like you weigh nothing. Legs are guided to rest over his shoulders, strong arms clamp around the fat of your thighs, fingers digging into the meat of your hips while his face buries itself in your sex.

This should be an everything. A dream come true.

Still, the girlish fantasy of feelings attached to such a pleasure no longer sparks with life.

After all, happy endings only ever exist in fairytales.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

hi! can I have some angel Neil this week?

—💖💖

WIP Wednesday (9/18) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 236)

"No. I was just making sure," Andrew says, aiming for nonchalance. Neil doesn't look particularly convinced and now Andrew worries he's accidentally granted himself an angelic audience for tomorrow's session. Damn. Andrew licks his lips. Time to lie. "I am going to talk to her about the nightmare I had the other night. I wanted to be sure you wouldn't listen."

Neil's eyes widen minutely, then he nods. "Good. You should talk to her about it," he says, taking Andrew by surprise.

"I thought you didn't believe in therapy."

"I don't. But you do. And I could feel how much that dream affected you, Andrew. It feel like you needed me, it felt like I needed to wake you. But then you woke yourself up and came up here and tore your brother a new one." Neil says, making Andrew cringe internally. He really hadn't meant to go berserk that morning, but Aaron's a fucking idiot. (And no matter what Neil says, they're twins. They're the same.)

Neil moves to sit back up and stretches his arms over his head. "All I'm saying is it must've been bad."

"It was."

"So, if you can't talk to me about it you should talk to her. Maybe she's got the magic cure for recurring dreams."

"Recurring." Andrew repeats. 

“Isn’t it? I’ve felt you have nightmares before.” Neil says. Andrew isn’t sure. He's never thought about it much. He's never tried to label the horrible things his brain makes him relive when he goes night-night. But he supposes Neil could be right. Is it recurring when the places and faces and sheets are sometimes different? Does he actually need to talk to Bee about this? (Probably.)

"I used to have a recurring nightmare when I was a little kid. It was about a clown," Neil offers randomly.

"What?"

"Yeah. It would come into my bedroom and just stand there in the doorway, staring at me with a bloody knife in its hand. Sometimes it would laugh, but usually it was deathly quiet," Neil says, trying to suppress a shudder. He fails and shivers so violently Andrew can feel it. A moment later, Neil makes a face as if something's occurred to him. "Come to think of it that might've just been my father playing a prank on me."

The easy way Neil says it has Andrew choking on a badly-timed laugh. He coughs at Neil's look. "How fucked up of him."

"Oh yeah, he was real fun like that. It's not the worst thing he ever did though," Neil says with a shrug. Andrew looks at Neil for a moment, then glances down to where the hem of his jeans has rolled up, revealing a thick scar around Neil's ankle. It matches the ones Andrew's seen on his wrists. He very nearly asks about it, but forces the question off his tongue because he swore he'd never ask.

Instead he sighs and accidentally lets, "Honk honk," slip past his filter.

Neil gives him a quizzical look. "What was that? Are you a goose now?"

"No. Don't clowns honk?"

"I... My father didn't."

"Never mind then."  Andrew says, looking to the side. They're quiet for a moment, then Neil is sputtering laughter. 

"Honk honk." He says, devolving into a fit of giggles. Andrew can only watch, awe-struck and mesmerized at the sound. When Neil covers his face with his hand and starts to settle down, Andrew says it again and laughs with him until he can't breathe.

[lexithwrites]

love love love the sugar daddy au, do you have any nsfw thoughts to spare?

this is kinda gonna just be their first time together as im not 100% on their dynamic overall,,,,bare with me whilst i figure this couple out:

i feel like their first kiss is when they're drunk at regulus' penthouse, like they're sat on the sofa watching something or listening to music and talking and drinking some nice wine and regulus is looking away as remus stares at him and then just kinda leans a little closer at first

regulus flinches, he's never used to physical touch anymore, and then looks at remus and realises he genuinly wants to kiss him, thats it, and he leans in so their lips touch and its immediate fireworks

both of them feel electric and the soft kiss turns into deep kissing, slow and sensual, then passionate and desperate as they touch and grip and feel and grope and start to moan into each other's mouths but then regulus jumps back because he's scared, he hasn't done this in so long and he doesn't know what to feel and remus is so apologetic about it

then,,,,the sexual tension becomes too much

regulus caves, he goes to remus' flat when james is out with his brother and just,,,he kisses him so desperatley, moaning into his mouth about how horny he is and that he cant stop thinking about remus and he needs to fuck him and remus is all for it, he's been in the same boat

but regulus knows what he wants and he knows how this is going to go, so he lays out ground rules, safe words, dos and donts etc and remus is all for it, its the most safe and seen he's felt having sex EVER

regulus takes the lead, he feels every inch of remus before even taking his clothes off and its the best kind of torture

remus is a pretty submissive guy and he's under his spell straight away, just whimpering and pleading for regulus to let him touch him but he isnt ready, he needs his fill of remus first

regulus is,,,very good at giving head. he doesn't have a lot of experiance with partners but he watches porn, he has toys, he knows what he's doing, and remus' thighs are shaking by the end of it

regulus has never seen this intense look of pleasure ever on a partners face and he's actually flustered, he didnt expect remus to enjoy it so much but then he's being thrown on the bed and its time,,,he has to let remus see him naked

now, im a trans reg truther always, so he's very nervous. remus knows he's trans, they've had this talk, but he's never had sex with someone after transitioning and he's so scared remus will hate the scars and maybe hate the fact that he doesn't have a 'real' dick, remus loves his body so much its crazy

he's never been so attracted to someone and he wants to devour him,,,so he does

remus' sexuality is a bit of a mystery to me, but i feel like he's had experiance with,,,everything that can be down there, and he just gives regulus his fucking all, he's sloppy and messy but so precise and attentive, every time regulus tugs his hair he stays in that spot, every new moan and gasp is what he wants again and again, its amazing,,,he does himself proud

and then the actual fucking,,,its a bit awkward

remus has to get condoms and regulus is lying there watching him and then gets under the sheets so he's comfortable, and then remus is leaning over him just staring into his eyes and saying how beautiful and handsome he is and regulus just blushes and tells him to put it in already, and remus frowns

'i want this to last forever, regulus...dont you?' and regulus melts, plus it makes him wet af to hear that

and god,,,the sex is good guys, its so good

neither has ever felt this good before and its overwhelming in the best way

they're both panting and moaning and gripping at ecah other, begging for more and almost on the verge of tears because they've never felt so connected to another person, and its a mix of hot and fast and hard and slow and deep and loving and its just,,,UGH

they're a hot fucking couple idc

and afterwards when they're both cleaned and showered and the sheets are changed, regulus will NOT sleep in a dirty bed, they're lying together naked, just gently touching each other and holding each other, regulus confesses that he's been so scared to have sex again because he didn't think he'd ever enjoy it, he never did as a woman so why would he as a man? why would people care about his pleasure now?

and remus just kisses his forehead and promises to never let him feel that way again

regulus wakes remus up with a blowjob the next morning and rides him for ages, they basically spend the next three days fucking and going down on each other to make up for lost time until remus has to go back to work and even then he comes home in the afternoon to naked regulus in bed napping, and he's so fucking happy

[karlachismylife]

I Need My Love To Be Here

Once again I couldn't help but do the second-most voted choice too. Why am I making my own life so much harder?

CW: fem!reader, reader and Price are married and have a daughter, long-distance relationship, my music taste projected once again, the tiniest bit of suggestive teasing, toothrotting fluff.

(Title from The Beatles' "Here, There and Everywhere")

Dealing with an energized six-year old refusing to go to bed was a battle alright, especially when your trusted partner with his commanding presence and a true Captain's voice wasn't there to help. You couldn't blame your little one for behaving herself better when John was around: isn't a natural law that the one parent that's often away and always comes back with gifts is the favourite one? It's not daddy who's forcing you to eat healthy food every day and go to sleep when you want another batch of cartoons.

It's the strict, stern-looking mum with her hands on her hips as she scolds you gently for throwing a fit over putting your toys back like promised.

Still, you'd want a little more appreciation and cooperation from Princess Price, sulking in her frog pjs - everything was frog since recently, you even got daddy a froggy hat for when he comes back from deployment.

He was away for a long time. Not somewhere dangerous, he told you as he called and texted regilarly, but he was constantly held back by one or the other thing that just couldn't be resolved without Captain's expertise.

That's what made his new phone call just the sweeter, since the first words you heard after closing priness's door hastly and moving to the living room, were:

"Guess who's coming home tomorrow, darling."

A relieved, longing sigh escaped you as you leaned onto the couch and stared at the ceiling with a dreamy smile.

"Good. Someone here needs a reminder how to listen to what she's being told."

"Is princess being a bad girl?" John's hearty chuckle warmed you even through the phone. You bit your lip, trying to save your own face from splitting in two with the horribly wide smile - same was gracing Price's face for sure, you could hear it, his plump cheeks all big and round, almost hiding his happily narrowed eyes.

"Not necessarily bad. But we have attitide and no respect for mummy's authority. Maybe I should start calling myself Captain too, just for her to listen to me."

"I'm afraid, impersonating an officer is illegal, love," he huffed and chuckled again, gruff, big, bear-hugging sound. A pause. "Are you being a bad girl?"

You pressed your phone closer you your ear as a warm tingling flooded your cheeks and held your breath.

"I'd like to report I'm being perfectly good, sir," if only you could see the way his kind eyes twinkled in the dim lighting of wherever he was, sitting on a chair with knees wide apart, one hand holding the famous cigar.

"That's good to hear. I have a little something for you. A reward for being so good for me and waiting while I'm in this shithole."

"The only reward I need is you back home, John," you weren't even being coy, just honest. It was so long since you last felt his rough palms slide over your sides and lock together as he pulled you into a tight hug from behind, pressing ticklish kisses into your nape.

"I know, sweetpea. Consider this an apology gift then, for taking so long," he didn't let you argue a single word, clearly set on having you accept whatever he prepared, as if him being alive, well and home wasn't enough. "Got us tickets to that McCartney concert, love. For all three of us. Gotta start teaching our princess what good music is."

You gasped, jumping in your seat - your heart did a little flip, cheeks burning now, butterflies that never went away even after years of marriage flocking to your lungs.

"But it's so close, how did you even- oh, I just wanna kiss all hells out of you, John!" His laughter dripped through the phone like spicy honey, sweetening already increbibly sweet deal.

"Oh, I can tell, love. Hope you feel the same way tomorrow."

"Why is tomorrow so far away?" You allowed yourself to be just as sulky and pouty as your little one snoring softly in the other room. Of course you could wait another day, you've waited for months already. But now every minute felt like a whole month itself.

"That's so you can get enough sleep before I make you forget about it for several nights."

[burning-academia-if]

hello if you’re still taking prompts could u by chance do tears + ??? :p

??? + Tears!

‘What happened?’ Their voice presses into your head, already aching from an incoming headache brought on from your tears. You weren’t sure how to answer them, when there were so many ways you could. Home, school, death, them.

            Your words are acid, “I thought I told you to stay out of my head.”

            Even with the flood of their feelings, seeping out like blood from a wound, you try to shut them out. You never wanted this, and you had yet to think of a situation worse than one where you were tied to a formless thing who felt and saw everything you could.

            You’re so tired. The tears burn in your eyes again and you burrow tighter into yourself, “Just leave me alone. I’m so tired.”

            They don’t, but they don’t speak again either. They settle, and you feel the pinpricks in your fingers. You loosen your grip, the pull of your nails away from skin a peel of pain. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been holding yourself. Little crescents line up your arms. The pinpricks stop. They settle again.

            The tears keep leaking out, and with how long you’ve cried you wonder if it’s possible to go on forever. Maybe the body won’t run out of tears, and you’ll be stuck in this state until the end of time. If only you could burn this version of yourself and start again. In a different body, in a different home, you’d be better. You wouldn’t waste a second chance you would never get.

            The Voice presses into you again. You look up involuntarily and scowl as you find yourself looking towards the half-finished water bottle on the bedside desk, “I’m not a child you need to take care of.”

            ‘It’ll help the headache.’ Their voice is soft, withdrawn. ‘Take care of yourself. I’ll leave, then.’

            You grit your teeth and turn away. You won’t listen to anything they tell you to do. It’s not fair, that of all the people in your life (of the reminder there are so painfully few people in your life), the one who cares the most is the one you’re cursed with. They only care because they need a vessel. They only care so they can use you. It isn’t really them taking care of you as a person, it’s them taking care of you like a puppet.

            You hate this. Going around in circles, thinking the same thing over and over again.

            ‘Please, little moon.’ You wince at the nickname, the endearment. It comes with more emotions, each one going against the stubborn beliefs you’ve held on to. That their care for you is real. It eats away at your resistance. This time, when they pull you towards the water, you don’t fight. You down it all in a second, and when you do it hits that you’re hungry and gross and need a shower and a meal.

            What are you even doing?

            “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

            ‘I know.’

            “I can’t even take care of myself.”

            ‘I know.’

            “I hate that the only one who ever helps me is you.”

            ‘…I know.’

            They accept everything, and you stubbornly wipe away the tears instead of having a full breakdown. You get up for food, they stay with you. Although you don’t talk to them, you don’t bother to chase them away. You’re so tired, and warmth is warmth even if it’s as artificial as a lighter.