#the hot dad that makes people watch when i get picked up from places. the kind of hot dad that looks good while filing taxes

[felsicveins]

Dad moment

[skzstannie]

“We’d never want you to struggle alone”

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member! reader

genre: angst wc: ~2100 cw: mentions of depression and death of family members, hatred for the holidays

Hi guys! Here’s my attempt at some Christmas/holiday angst. The fluffy Part 2 is posted and linked at the bottom of this post!

Feedback and likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated! I haven't got the chance to interact with too many people on here yet, so reach out if you'd like!

Happy scrolling!

"Hey guys, I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna head to bed. Chan Oppa, I'm gonna go lay down in your room until everyone's ready to go back to our dorm," you wave off their comments asking you to stay with them and make your way to the leader's bedroom.

It's December 20th, and the guys are all gathered around the television in the 3Racha/Hyunjin dorm, binge watching Christmas movies. During a normal year, you'd all be at your own homes with your families, cozying up to the fireplaces and drinking hot chocolate with your siblings. However, this was no normal year, and your comeback ran too close to the holidays, not allowing you nor the boys to go home for Christmas. Not that you particularly minded; you hated the holidays.

You imagine what you'd be doing at home right now, no doubt curled up in your bed with an exciting romance novel, listening to some dark academia playlist you'd found on YouTube.

But you're not home, you're stuck here with a bunch of Christmas-crazed dorks who have spent the last few weeks decorating your dorms full of all things Santa Claus. You've been managing to sneak away whenever any holiday-esque activities are taking place. You've not told them of your hatred towards the holidays, and you're not really planning to, either, not wanting to be the reason their fun-filled nights are ruined; they're already sad enough about not being able to head home for the holidays, the last thing you want to do is be a scrooge. So, you’ve resorted to humbly excusing yourself, busying yourself with your own activities when the occasion arises.

As you walk into Chan's room, you take notice of all the little trees he has decorating his room. Cute. You pick up the picture of his family he has resting on his nightstand beside his bed. You stare at his mom, dad, siblings, and grandparents smiling faces, feeling the familiarly unavoidable pit in your stomach form.

Your parents and one set of your grandparents passed away in a car wreck about five years ago, before you debuted with the guys. Your other grandparents, your mother's parents, passed away before you were born, never getting the opportunity to meet them. So, that left just you and your brother. Your brother, being a few years older than you, started his own family the summer after your parents passed. He has a beautiful wife and two children now, one boy and one girl. They got right to baby-making after they got married, so excited to start a family of their own. Unfortunately, that family never included you. You only know of their children because you’re mutuals with your sister-in-law on social media.

Your brother essentially ghosted you after his first child was born. You two were never the closest sibling duo, but you never expected him to completely drop you and ignore your existence. But he did, and that's just something you have learned to live with.

You were not in a healthy place after all this happened. You had no one to go to when your heart was breaking, grieving the loss of both your dead and alive family members. You put all your focus into the trainee program, all your sadness and anger towards the world into your dance and song. Chan eventually found you on that one fateful day that you deemed saved your life. You were at the lowest of your low, and you thought you had finally reached your breaking point, but then walked in Christopher Bang Chan, all smiles and laughter. He recruited you to be in his group as one of the first, right after Han. From then on, you had another reason to keep going, to keep fighting.

You've never told the guys this. You have always been a more reserved member, keeping all of your personal life out of the spotlight. While the boys never heard you talk much about your family, really only knowing you have a brother, they always thought that, when you went home for the holidays, you went home to a nice big house filled with love. They thought when you walked in the doors to your childhood home, you were welcomed in by your parents with opened arms, beckoning you in. They thought you spent your Christmas mornings opening nicely wrapped presents, followed by a home-cooked breakfast that'd be shared amongst your family.

They didn't know of the single bedroom apartment you called yours. They didn't know of the bareness that captured your living room, baren of all things Christmas and the lack of Christmas cookies and presents on Christmas Day. They didn't know you've always spent your holidays alone.

Honestly, you were completely fine with their assumptions. You didn't need nor want their pity. Your family was still an incredibly sensitive topic to you. Before their passing, you were so very close. You'd spent every holiday together, enjoying your time as a family, doing all the cliche things. You'd even gone caroling a few times, walking around your childhood neighborhood singing the classic Christmas songs off-key to your friendly neighbors.

Afraid you'd spiral, leading you right back to how you'd been before Chan found you, you never brought it up, and the boys never pushed you to talk about your family. They figured you were normal with a mom, dad, and a loving brother-so what's to talk about?

The holidays have never felt the same; you knew they wouldn't. So why try? Why go through the effort of making yourself a nice Christmas dinner, attending church on Christmas eve and waking up early Christmas morning, when you knew your parents wouldn't be there to greet you. When you knew your grandmother wouldn't be there to give you the biggest hug she could muster in her old age. When your grandfather wouldn't be there to give you a hearty pat on the back, his only true form of physical affection you'd ever experienced in all your years with him.

A quiet knock pulls you out of your thoughts, and in walks Felix with a glass of milk in hand. You quickly set down the picture frame you didn't realize you were still holding and give him a warm smile.

"Hey, what's up?" you ask him, taking the glass from him and sipping on the cold beverage.

"I just wanted to make sure you were feeling alright. You've been pretty distant for a couple weeks now. Is everything ok?"

You're a little caught off guard, this being the first time anyone's noticed your pulling back since the beginning of December. You honesty didn't even realize anyone was paying attention to you, all of them too caught up in the festive activities and excitement of the season.

"Yea, I mean, I'm fine. Just a bit of seasonal depression," you write off his concerns.

"I didn't know you had that," Felix ponders his thoughts for a minute, giving you a loving look. "Is there anything I can do to help? Have you always had seasonal depression?"

While looking into Felix's warm, brown eyes, you decide that keeping all these things from them all these years has been unfair. They're never afraid of sharing their personal struggles with you. You think back to all the times Han's came to you with anxiety, and how you've wanted nothing more than to take away all his worry and pain. How Seungmin's came to you with his insecurities, and you always hyping him up, calling him the most beautiful boy. If any of them had kept their struggling to themselves, it'd crush you. How dare they feel like they couldn't come to you? Why would they want to struggle alone?

You realize that these feelings are most definitely reciprocated by the guys. Now, feeling vulnerable after being left alone with your thoughts for so long, you have the dire urge to come clean about your family.

"Actually Felix, I've been struggling with this for quite some time now. Can you, maybe just, listen? I've never talked to anyone about this, but I want to now. I want you guys to know," you fiddle with your hands, sliding one of your rings on and off your finger.

"Of course! You can always talk to me. Go ahead, I'm listening." He grabs your hand, halting your fidgeting. You look up at him, take a deep breath, and let it all out. Everything you've been holding onto these last few years. It probably sounds like word vomit, all your feelings and hardships falling out of your mouth at lightning speed. You finish your rambling, and you finally have the courage to look up at his face again.

He's crying. Equipped with all the theatrics, the wobbly lip and rosy cheeks. You made Felix cry with all your problems. You reach up to his cheek, wiping a few of his falling tears.

"Ok, I think I'm done," you freeze as Felix also brings his index finger up to your cheek. You flinch when he pulls away, seeing the dampness of it.

You're crying, too. You didn't even realize. I mean, it makes sense. You just trauma dumped all of your troubles onto Felix, the world's most renowned empath, of course you'd be crying.

You guys sit in silence for a minute, before Felix's whimpers become audible. He's so visibly distraught, and your heart breaks even more just at the mere sight of him.

He launches himself at you, clinging to you so tightly you think your ribs may crack. He tackles you back onto the bed, resting on top of you.

"Why did you never tell us this?" his sobs wreck through his body, his arms trembling around you, "We could've helped you."

"I was scared," you wriggle one of your arms free of his embrace, using it to affectionately run your hand through his hair. Your sobs join together as one, both of you a mess. "I was scared you guys would pity me, or look at me less. I was scared that I'd spiral again if I talked about it."

"Well, we're here now, Jagiya." He sits up after a few minutes. His cries have quieted, and so have yours. "We aren't going to let you continue going through this alone, ya know. We are one, and if one of us is hurting, we're all hurting. Please don't keep things like this from us anymore." He begs, standing from the bed. He grabs your hand and pulls you up, making his way towards the door.

"Where are we going?" your voice shakes and you pull away from Felix, standing in the middle of Chan's room. You wrap your arms around your middle, feeling more exposed than you ever have before.

"You know we have to tell the rest of them. They deserve to know, too."

"Felix, I don't think I can tell the story again. Once was enough for a lifetime."

"OK, do you feel comfortable with me telling them? I'll tell them exactly what you told me, no more, no less, ok?"

You frantically nod your head, grateful for Felix's suggestion.

He blows you a playful kiss, no doubt trying to make you feel better, and he leaves to go to the living room. You take your seat back down on the side of the bed and wait patiently for Felix to finish.

You don't hear much for the next few minutes, but you're startled by the swinging open of the door, the handle cracking against Chan's poor wall. Han stands there, a dazed look on his face. His glassy eyes meet yours, and you shriek when he takes off, leaping onto the bed onto your small frame. He wraps you up in a big hug, squeezing the life out of you.

"We love you, and we'd never want you to struggle alone. We're in this life together."

One by one, the rest of the guys make their way into the room onto the bed. We're haphazardly thrown into a cuddle pile of sorts. A cuddle pile filled with the love and adoration you've been missing during the holidays.

You all lay in each other's arms, and you feel incredibly comfortable and safe. Chan's the first to break the silence, "We have five days left until Christmas. What do you say we make some new Christmas traditions? We don't want to replace what you used to have, and you’re entitled to spend your Christmas season as you'd like. But, if you'll let us, we’ll give you something to look forward to about the holidays again. Please?" The guys are all looking at you now, each of them displaying a face that could rival a sad puppy.

You realize now that there's nothing to be scared of. These are your best friends you're talking about, who want nothing but to shower you in love and happiness.

"I'd love that."

Part 2

[melanieph321]

HI!! I love your writing!! 💓💓 I read that you will make 7 days of requests so I sent you one, I wanted to ask you for rubén.

where reader is pep's daughter and is secretly with rubén, she is a physiotherapist but from manchester united, when one evening they all meet at pep's house for a team dinner, reader's older sister hits on rubén and so when he's not there anymore reader takes him to his childhood room and they do dirty things 🫢, but when they finish and go out there's pep outside and in the end they confess and he simply replies "I already knew".

THANK YOU IF YOU HAD TO DO IT I LOVE YOU 💓💓💓

Love this request. Made a couple of changes to the plot, I hope you don't mind.

Thank you ❤️

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS 3.0

(DAY 4)

Ruben Dias x Reader - Meet And Greet

+18

Reader is Pep Guardiola's daughter and is dating Ruben without her dad's knowledge. However, that changes during a family BBQ.

Enjoy!

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your dad told you to come home for the weekend because he was hosting a BBQ. However, he never told you that he invited the entire Manchester City squad as well.

You were watching from your bedroom window. Watching how your backyard flooded with a sea of world-class football players, all munching on burgers, hot dogs, and your dads famous smoked paella.

"Y/N, Y/N!"

There was a knock on your door, followed by your little sister stumbling into your room.

"What is it, Nadia?"

"Papa wants you to come downstairs."

"Let me get dressed first. I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay, I'll tell him you said that." Giddy with excitement, she rushed out of the room, only to rush back through the door a split second later. "Oh and Y/N...."

"What?"

She grinned. "Ruben is here."

Your heart skipped a beat. However, you tried to play it cool. "Did he ask about me?"

"Yes, he told me to tell you that he's saving a seat for you at the table. But don't you think it would be stupid of you two to..."

"I got it Nadia. Thank you for the message."

"I'm just saying...." She continued, again reminding you to never ask an eight year old to keep a secret. "....won't dad be suspicious seeing you all cozy with one of his players?"

"Nadia, please." You sighed. "I need to get dressed. I promise to come downstairs in a minute."

"Okay." She shirrped and skipped out of your room, down the hall and back downstairs.

You were left to do your makeup, but you decided to keep it clean and natural. You then went over to your closet, anxious to pick the appropriate outfit. It was a family gathering, meaning you should present yourself as homely and tidy. However, knowing that Ruben was amongst the guests fueled a desire in you to keep things interesting. It was risky. Nevertheless, you came downstairs wearing your favorite summer dress. Correction: Ruben's favorite summer dress.

¡Cariño, ahí estás! (Honey, there you are!)

You had just stepped foot into the backyard when your dad, as always, decide to embarrass you.

"Everyone, say hello to my daughter, Manchester United best physiotherapist!"

He got some giggles for his troubles. However, the joke about your profession was getting old. Everyone had accepted it. Even the media had stopped writing ironic articles about it.

"Hi, honey. You look lovely."

"Thank you, Mami." You kissed her cheeks, unlike your dad. She was happy to see you, but not enough to announce it to the entire world.

"Are you hungry? There's plenty of food."

"Yes, I'll grab something. Just let me say hello to everyone."

You took a lap around the crowded backyard. Except for the Man City squad, your dad also invited the neighbors, making it a block party at its finest. Your first thought was, "How did all these people get here?" You had seen some of the players pull up in their luxury vehicles, but you hadn't expected an invasion of this magnitude. The backyard was usually quiet and peaceful, a place where Nadia could escape the chaos of school, chasing her favorite butterflies. Now, it was a bustling party scene.

"Y/N, Y/N, look who I found."

Speaking of the devil. You were ambushed by your sister, who seemed to enjoy running amongst the many guests. She grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the swimming pool, where a bar had been set up. A bar, surrounded by people and one particular person who caught your eye.

"I told him to wait for you to get dressed." Said Nadia, who eagerly guided you towards your boyfriend.

"Hi." Ruben smiled.

"Hi." You blushed.

"Oh, I know!" Your sister squeald. "I can keep dad distracted if you want?"

"Great idea, Nadita! You do that."

You were relieved to see your sister make her way through the crowd, leaving you and Ruben alone.

"I'm sorry if she's been bothering you."

"No need to apologize." Ruben chuckled. He looked so good and charming in his knewly cut hair, and he wore a shirt and jeans that complimented his fairly tanned skin.

"Have you grabbed anything to eat yet?" He asked.

"No, you?"

"Yes, actually. Who knew your dad could make a mean cheeseburger?"

"Please don't." You chuckled. No one had more experience than you when it came to your dad's BBQ obsession. You looked over to where he stood, tending the grill. He expertly flipped the steaks while chatting with guests. Your mom was busy too, refilling plates and passing out cold drinks to some players.

"Who knew?" Ruben mumbled.

"Yeah, I guess it's his thing besides coaching you guys."

"Yeah, no. I'm not talking about that."

You turned to find Ruben's eyes on you, or your dress to be exact.

"Who knew a person could look so good in a dress." He said, leaning forward, surprising you with a kiss on the cheek.

"Baby?" You gasped. "Not here. Not where people can see."

"Then take me somewhere no one can." His eyes said it all, a devious glimpse reflected in them. You shook your head at the audacity. Still, the whey Ruben's fingers nipped at the hemn of your dress was more than tempting.

"How about a tour of the house?" You whispered.

"After you."

It was a quick house tour, skipping most of the rooms downstairs, heading straight to the second floor.

"....Here's our bathroom. Over there you have my parents room, Nadia's room. And here....." You led Ruben down the hall, stopping at the end of it. "Here you have my room."

Ruben took it in, his eyes wandering from the floor to the sealing. He admired the pictures on your walls, along with the photographs of you as a child, missing a couple of front teeth.

"Cute." He chuckled.

"I was ten."

"A cute ten year old."

"Creepy, but thanks." You wrapped your arms around his neck, guidning Ruben to the middle of the room.

"I'm creepy?" He said, allowing you to lead him across the room, towards your bed. There the two of you laid down and let your lips collide for the first time that night.

"Yes. But only a little creepy." You giggled.

"Oh, yeah? Does it turn you on?"

"You wish."

Ruben laughed but took the liberty to fold the bottom of your dress, revealing your polkadot panties. "Polkadots, interesting."

"My mom is doing laundry. Don't laugh at them."

"Who's laughing?" Ruben scooted down, aligning his face with your pelvis, draping your legs to rest on each of his shoulders. "I love polkadots."

You bit down on your lip as Ruben kissed the insides of your thighs. He knew what he was doing. Ruben always knew exactly what he was doing to you. Your hands made a mess of his hair. Gripping a bundle of it to prevent yourself from moaning his name. He was licking you now. Ruben had pushed your panties to the side just so he could swipe his tongue across your center, making his way upwards, then downwards, repeating the motion until you were pliant. Pliant enough to fit the size of his fingers.

"Ruben." You slapped a hand against your mouth, never meant to let such a rough moan escape.

Ruben drummed a laugh below your stomach but seized to please you with the same intensity. "You taste so good, I couldn't help myself." He came up to kiss you, his weight pressing you down against the matress.

"We have to get back to the party, or else my dad might notice that I'm gone."

Ruben looked down. "Great."

"What?" You chuckled.

"You totally made me lose my boner."

"Me?" You gasped.

"Yes, you." Ruben pressed a swift kiss to your lips before backing off. He offered you a hand, helping you up and out of your bed. He then waited for you to straighten out your dress, as well as change your panties.

"To mention your dad, my coach, should be illegal when I'm trying to fuck you." He said, as the two of you made your way downstairs, back to the party in the backyard.

"Well, at least now I know how to get you off of me." You teased.

"Eww, no. Please don't."

The two of you made your way through the crowd, on your way back to the pool. There the two of you could have some privacy, far away from your dads grill.

"Y/N!"

You flinched at the sound of his stern voice. You and Ruben had just walked past it, the grill, when your dad, out of nowhere, popped his bald head in front of you like a jack in a box.

"Dad....what's up?" You immediately let go of Ruben's hand, forgetting that you had been holding onto it as you left the house.

"Did he like it?" Your dad said, with his usually taunting smile.

"Did who, like what?" You frowned.

"Ruben." He folded his arms. "Did he like our home, considering the two of you were gone for so long."

"Oh."

Heat rose to your face. You could sense Ruben's angst bedside you too as your dad darted at him with laser in his eyes.

"Coach, I can explain...."

"No need, son. I already know."

"What?" Heads briefly turned with your sudden exclamation. "How do you know about me and Ruben?" You said, eager to know.

"Well, firstly...." Your dad perked up. "I am a very smart man. A very very smart man."

"Dad, please." You sighed.

"Okay, fine. Your sister told me."

"Nadia?" You gasped. "That traitor."

"That's what happens when you ask a eight year old to keep a secret."

"I should have known." You mumbled.

"Anyway." Your dad cleared his throat. "I'm assuming that this has been going on for a while."

"A year." You nodded and felt slightly guilty about lying to him for so long. You grabbed a hold of Ruben's hand, squeezing it. "I only kept it from you, though. Mom also knows."

"Great. You give your children life, a home and this how they repay you."

"My apologies, coach." Ruben stepped up. "It's mainly because of me that Y/N wanted to keep our relationship a secret. I just never wanted to put you in a position where your job as my coach has been compromised."

"Well, we're way past that, don't you think?"

Ruben blushed.

Your dad chuckled and stepped in between you, wrapping his arms around the both of you. "No more lying, okay."

"Okay." You nodded and so did Ruben.

"Alright." He rubbed his hands together, making his way back towards the grill. "If there's nothing else you wish to tell me I say, welcome to the family, Ruben."

"Erm....thanks." Ruben scratched the back of his head. You, on the other hand, couldn't be happier, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend while whispering the words "Thank you." to your dad who raised his spatula in a celebratory gesture.

THE END

[moniheartsluffy]

A DADDY’s GIRL

characters featured: crocodaddy, warlords, marines.

genre: fluff

notes: father!crocodile x daughter!reader, PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP, black!coded reader, crocodaddy and his baby girl🥹

grammar warning!! not rlly proofread…this been sitting in the drafts for a hot minute…

• mans love him some of his daughter.

• safe to say his world now revolves around you. he never thought he would want kids but when you popped out….oh he was bringing you everywhere.

• he thought the lady (your mother) was bullshittin when she said she was pregnant. he’s experienced many women trying to trap him before, so he just brushed it off wit a “yea ok”

• oh but when he saw that baby bumpppp. his whole mood changed. he started filling out paperwork to get full custody all ready😭 and ofc he won bc…it’s him. (pls. just work wimme here)

6yr old you waking up in an overly decent sized room due to the sun coming through your curtains and your TALL ASS father coming into the room. you’re trying to rub the sleep from your eyes as you sit up to look at him while he motions to pick you up.

“morning princess.” he says while placing a light kiss to your cheek. in response to his actions you simply place your head on his shoulder and allow yourself to be whisked away.

“still sleepy, hmm?” he says placing another kiss to the top of your head and watches as you nod, confirming his accusation.

now its a lot of things that crocodile has people do for him like his dirty work…but when it comes to you he allows them to do your hair, pick out outfits, feed you, etc. but he adores the simple things like getting you out of bed, tucking you in at night and other simple things that falls in between. other than that he leaves it to the maids he’s hired.

he takes you everywhere..and i mean everywhere. he has a meeting? he’s putting you in the cutest business outfit ever. the warlords are called together? he already got snacks and toys packed for you. anywhere this man is going he’s taking you and he doesn’t care about repercussions.

with that being said…a warlord meeting was called.

so..everyone walking in and taking their respective seats, meanwhile crocodile walking in with you in his arms and he’s late.

now we all know boa isn’t fond of men so as soon as crocodile puts you on the ground she’s swiping you away..immediately. she thinks he’s corrupting your mind or sum. but you cannot tell me boa would not love you. she’s turning you into the best feminist ever. (gotta start em off young!!) she even though about taking you to the kuja island… and never bringing you back. after a while, her and your dad start arguing so you go speak to some of the other warlords.

mihawk was just minding his business and wishing he had stayed home. you stumble over with a pack of fruit snacks, holding them out for him to take them. “you looked upset so here!” your tiny voice chirps up at him. he couldn’t bring himself to reject your offer, especially when you looked up at him with a determination to make him ‘feel better’. so he simply raised his eyebrow at you and took them while giving you this thanks and a smile that wasn’t too noticeable, but you saw it.

now…it’s two men in this entire room that you simply can’t express enough emotion for. doflamingo and gecko moria. now to be frank, you didn’t despise doffy like you did the other one but you weren’t exactly fond of him either. it’s like you tolerated him. he was kind to you but something about him just seemed off.

nevertheless your feet carried you to where doflamingo sat on a windowsill waiting for this excuse of a meeting to start. “hi doffy.” the pureness in your voice snapping him out of whatever unhinged things he was thinking about. “hello there little one. you look so adorable in your f/c dress.” he replied in a mellow tone. you muttered a small “thank you” before asking him about the whereabouts of kuma, at the last meeting he asked you what your favorite flower was and you finally had an answer for him but much to your dismay the blonde haired man had no idea. (not like he cares but hey)

ultimately choosing to ignore the presence of the other being in the room you swiftly made your way over to jinbe and had a short conversation with him regarding the sunflower drawing that adorned your dress, the fishman states how much he loved the design. after that ended you made your way back with your father and the warlord meeting began shortly after.

warlord meetings were always a pain but having you there always made it seem a little bit better for everyone—even the marines thought you were adorable although, they never showed it..except for garp. he’s a grandpa, ofc he’s gonna act like one towards a child. so every time the meeting truly starts garp takes you away and you two walk around the marineford gardens. he also takes you to sengoku’s office so you can see his goat and eat snacks while he annoys sengoku.

[mauveflowers]

Since someone asked for them and I already have them compiled here’s some SHJ/HYJ moments that live in my head rent free.

Novel spoilers under the cut.

Yoojin doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep properly because of the Mist King appearing and his Fear Resistance rank being lowered. He asks SHJ to let him sleep in his bedroom. To which SHJ says he's never had guests there.

Yoojin gets carried off by Riette in her dragon form and locked in a castle tower. SHJ jumps through the balcony window pretending to be the "prince" rescuing the "princess." Afterward SHJ laments to Yoohyun that the "princess" didn't even give him a kiss.

When Yoojin is letting SHJ use the double attack skill SHJ uses Yoojin's damage nullification like a human shield, except he's tossing him around in such a way that they look like they're dancing.

Because of that time Yoojin gave SHJ a lifetime’s worth of hot pink yarn SHJ repeatedly teases Yoojin with pink stuff. There was a privately owned Sesung jet that he had painted pink inside and out just for Yoojin to use.

During a kidnapping event Yoojin goads the audience to put their special items up as collateral for his value as an item. SHJ puts his Seeker's Chains up for bid no hesitation.

Yoojin uses a fragment of SHJ as a foundation for creating a monster. He treats this monster like his own child. The monster even calls him "Dad." In child form the monster looks just like SHJ.

Yoojin overexerts himself helping SHJ. It leaves Yoojin temporarily blinded. When SHJ realizes he can't see he offers him one of his own eyes as compensation.

During a stay in Sesung's hospital Yoojin puts pink lipstick right on SHJ's lips. He gets mad that it looks good.

Yoojin is under the influence of another hunter’s skill and can’t consciously control his actions. He kidnaps himself and SHJ intercepts them. Initially SHJ uses his Seeker's Chains to restrain Yoojin but Yoojin takes off Grace. Even under the influence of a skill Yoojin still places his bet on SHJ that he will do anything to make Yoojin stay, even physically harm him. Much to Yoojin’s horror SHJ actually releases Yoojin and begs him to pick up and put Grace back on. In the end Yoojin gets away and SHJ can only watch him go.

SHJ and STW are busting a criminal organization that was responsible for previously kidnapping Yoojin. They take care of all the people involved because of unrelated outside events but SHJ tells STW that he was leaving these guys at large despite knowing their involvement because he was saving them for Yoojin. He said he was preparing a whole trip for Yoojin to decide what to do with them as a "Partner learning experience."

Yoojin is injured by his kidnappers. During a farce of a dinner party Yoojin falls when getting up from the table. Someone catches him and Yoojin knows who it is immediately despite them wearing a disguise. From all the times using double attack skill Yoojin knows it's SHJ because the way SHJ holds him feels "gentle and sturdy without swaying."

Later that night SHJ has to report Yoojin's status to STW. He is incredibly angry at the way they were treating him and says he really had to hold himself back from tearing the whole place apart right then and there.

After coming out of a dungeon Yoojin doesn’t have most of his clothes because he was wearing dungeon clothes (they disappeared after the dungeon was over.) In a panic he throws on the only thing he has which is Silekia’s Wings, but he’s not wearing any pants. He has to settle using a pink yarn cardigan that SHJ knitted him to cover his bottom half.

He also has to ride Peace afterward side saddle while SHJ rides behind him. Yoojin still doesn't have underwear on at this point. (Sorry Yoojin.)

Yoojin wants SHJ to leave a simulated dungeon first, but the only way to leave is to be "defeated." Yoojin puts a gun under SHJ’s chin and pops him one, no hesitation.

Yoojin is hosting a banquet. He has to pretend that he and SHJ are not familiar. In front of everyone Yoojin takes a whole bottle of wine and dumps the entire thing on SHJ's head. SHJ is casual about it for a minute before he drags Yoojin onto the table and also pours a bottle of wine on his head.

Yoojin purposefully used a rosé wine that he knows is to SHJ’s tastes but SHJ takes a red wine that he knows Yoojin can’t stand and dumps it on him anyway.

The two of them light their cigarettes over a burning flower. Chapter 474.

[machveil]

Has anyone brought to you the question of what type of car Konig drives? I can’t see him fitting in anything but a giant truck, but also the idea of him in a little VW Bug makes me wheeze. (Of course there’s always the third option of motorcycle, but that might just be because motorcycles are hot af)

OKAY ANON— you activated my brain and had me dig through a 300+ asmr playlist I have on YT for a very specific video so I’m going on a tangent and a half about this haha

I’ll start with the smallest thought portion because this is going to be long…

Retired!König strikes me as owning a motorcycle, first and foremost. he’s always liked the way they look, so now with a hefty savings account and ample free time, he’s decided this can be his retirement project. he could buy a new motorcycle, really treat himself, but this guy is a working man! he buys a beat up, ‘well-loved’ bike (even the seller was surprised someone was actually buying it)

even though Retired!König definitely has enough cash saved up to make the process of fixing the bike up fast… he doesn’t. he wants this to be a pastime he can keep up, even it means he can’t ride the bike for a long time. he’d order parts individually every week or so - smaller parts, maybe in batches. he’ll grab a beer, put on some music, open his garage, and let the neighbors have a show of him dismantling and breathing new life into this motorcycle

all in all, I think it takes Retired!König a year, a year and a half, to fully finish the bike (of his own volition). by the end it’s beautiful - new sleek paint, high end parts, the works. …he could possibly be so into it that Retired!König opens an actual garage shop and fixes up vehicles (mechanic!König anyone?). yeah, he’s retired, but having a hobby that makes you money? can’t say no to that, Maus

ANYWAYS, on to the meat and potatoes of this post

so, my beautiful, oh so smart anon, thank you for sparking my brain into remembering THIS VIDEO. you CANNOT tell me this isn’t König coded, the entire thing SCREAMS König to me (actually, the entire channel does, but I can only fangirl so much)

König owning a Jeep scratches my brain right - I’m not knowledgeable on cars/trucks, so if you think there’s a better off-roading/camping vehicle I will believe you 100%. also, I’m sorry, I’m watching the video as I’m writing this - König would definitely take his fluffy, little kitty camping with him. the guy in the video has a dog, but my cat dad propaganda will never stop

it doesn’t matter where or how old König is, he loves camping and immersing himself in nature - he needs a vehicle that can keep up with him. it started as a kid where he’d flee into the local woods after school or on weekends for alone time. he convinced his mama that he’d be okay if he camped out in the woods, and after one dinky camping trip he was sold. every chance he gets he’s off in nature - hiking, camping, he tried caving once but he was too big :( he liked the entrance to the cave though. he adores bird watching, definitely has high end binoculars. he’d buy a camera too, but he’d rather enjoy nature in the moment rather than fumbling to take a photo. König thinks that some things don’t need to be captured in a photo, it’s okay just sitting down experiencing it, just remembering it

so König enjoys having a vehicle that lets him get away from people, he doesn’t mind driving til he’s almost running on empty. he’d gladly drive out into the middle of nowhere just to sit down and take in nature. always carries a box of trash bags in his truck so he can pick up litter along the road. and, since his vehicle is what allows him to travel, he takes very good care of it

back to his Jeep, he decks it out like the guy in the video. when König camps he treats it as a ‘how long can I stay out here’ ordeal, or up until he has to go home for obligations. so König tries to maximize space, I’ll say it every time - König has a place for everything, he’s an organized king✨

I’m not going to lie, I’m just going to say look at the guy’s Jeep in the video. they way he has it set up is just how I imagine König’s Jeep - this guy has a net attached to the ceiling for supplies, I could see König bungee cording a cooler in the back (completely organized), I just have so many thoughts on König camping this is too much haha

I’m trying to stay focused on the car aspect, but like… camping with König :( I guess I could make that another post if people want to see that

I’m sorry the latter half was so all over the place, I tried to keep it simple and edit it down, but I couldn’t anyways… he definitely owns some type of car that can handle camping. I’m partial to this specific Jeep though, call me biased lol

I looked up that VW Bug and I’m SCREAMING, this poor man haha! he’d be so hunched over, anon, his poor back. König definitely loves the aesthetic/look of the VW Bug, but he’d rather deep clean his home than sit in that (which says a lot). if you own a cute little car he’d offer to drive you everywhere. he claims that he’s being a gentleman, that you shouldn’t have to lift a finger, but in actuality he just doesn’t want to sit in that cramped little vehicle. he’s so sorry, Maus, let him make it up to you by being his passenger princess?

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hey Cheleah (your name is so AMAZING 🤩) recently I started to read your stories and they’re incredibly perfect! Could I request one? With Mr. Ari Levinson?

I love watch tiktok and I dont know why, but my “for you” have a lot of videos with quotes to said on the bed like “shh, be quiet for me?” So… could you write with a lot dirty talk? 🥺 thank you so much and I’m sorry if this get confused, english is not my first language

hello honey, thank you so much! you're so sweet. I apologise for taking so long, but I hope you like what I wrote and you're english is good!

summary - you and your dad's best friend ari have been sneaking around, and he decides to fuck you at the family party.

warning - smut, swearing, creampie, breeding kink, semi-public, dirty talk.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

“Shh, baby girl. You gotta be quiet for me.” Ari growls into your ear, and his hand covers your mouth as he thrusts deep into you, “You don’t want everyone outside to look over, do you? Don’t want your family to find out you’re letting your dad’s best friend split you in half every single day.” Your wide eyes stare out the window, tears preventing your vision from seeing the many people standing there, chatting away, oblivious to your body pressed against the window. 

You whimper as Ari grips your hips, slowly grinding into you. He holds you close to him, grunting into your ear as you squeeze him, pulsing around him as he buries himself deep inside you. Ari could remember clearly how this had started. You had finished college and came home for a break as you looked for a good job. He hadn’t seen you since you had left, and god. Ari felt his breath leave him when you walked in, and the teasing began. He had noticed how innocent and naive you seemed, so he decided to mess with you, make you a putty mess. It was so easy to make you his. One night, you confessed you always had a tiny crush on him, which leads to now. You two secretly see each other, him taking you on dates and then fucking you deeply wherever and whenever he can. Ari hopes you’d become pregnant with the many times he fills you, never cumming anywhere but inside your cunt. 

“You like fucking your dad's best friend, baby? Like sneaking around?” You nod, head resting back onto his shoulder, keeping your eyes on the party outside, knowing you’d be punished if you looked away. “My naughty girl, begging for my cock. Always a good little cockslut for me.” He groans, feeling you clench around him at his words. Ari begins to pick up his pace, pushing you against the window more as he pounds into you. His hand slowly moves from your hip up your sides, grazing your plump breasts before cupping your chin and turning your head toward him. Ari leans forward and captures your lips with his, eyes closing and soft sounds escape you as his kiss makes your mind fuzzy. “Does my pretty girl want to cum? Want me to fill you until you’re leaking my cum and make you stand out there as you’re knickers become soaked with me?” 

You whimper, nodding against his lips. “Yes, please, Ari. Yes.” You moan against him, moving your hips back as your core clenches, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and your arousal leaks from you, cumming around Ari’s thick member. 

Ari groans, gripping your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours as he feels his end approaching. “Good girl, my good girl. I’m cumming.” He grunts, and white hot cum spurts out of his mushroom tip, filling you to the brim, and Ari secretly prays that this will take. You are his, and you will always be his. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.” His other hand moves and rests on your abdomen as he continues to cum, head falling forward and resting against your forehead. His cock begins to soften, and he slowly pulls out, tucking himself into his jeans and moving your knickers back into place, smirking as he pictures you walking around full of him. 

You sigh happily, blinking up at him and smiling as he leans down and brings you into another kiss. Your hand rests on his chest before he pulls away and smiles down at you. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go back out. We don’t want them to get suspicious, do we?” You pout, gnawing on your bottom lip, and Ari grips your chin. “What’s wrong?”

“I–I love you, Ari….” Your heart nearly pounds out of your chest as you confess your deepest feelings to the older man, afraid he doesn’t feel the same towards you and only wants you for sex. 

Ari grins big. “I love you too, sugar.” You both happily sigh as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[lostloveletters]

All That Heaven Will Allow (John Brady x OC)

Summary:  We’ll fill this house with all the love / all that heaven will allow (AO3 link)

Note: This literally wouldn’t exist without @karasnonsense99, Woody and Brady’s biggest hypewoman and someone I’m so grateful to call a friend. This is the visual reference for the dad!Brady vibes that almost made me feel ill. So. Title comes from the Bruce Springsteen song which should surprise no one. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None besides some inevitable inaccuracies.

“I’m glad we skipped the parade this year, it’s too hot out for her,” Woody said. She laid the newspaper she’d been fanning herself with on the kitchen table, watching adoringly as John cradled the baby in his arms, allowing her to wrap her chubby hand around one of his fingers.

“She’s only two months old. How has she gotten so big already?”

Woody folded her arms over her sensitive chest, her lips twitching up in a smile. “Guess.”

John grinned, nuzzling his nose into their infant daughter’s squishy cheek. “She’s got a healthy appetite.”

If Woody wasn’t sure she could fall any more in love with her husband, the day their daughter was born made her feel like Cupid got her straight in the heart. 

It’d been almost a year since she told John she was finally ready to have kids. For all of his prior eagerness, she thought he was a lunatic when he suggested they plan it. ‘So he’ll be born in the summer, when I can be home with you,’ he had said earnestly. Except he was a she, and she was born at the end of April, a Taurus who had her parents’ hearts wrapped around her tiny finger the moment she wailed at the world.

Happy, healthy, nothing short of perfect, they brought her home, and Woody felt relieved that the nurturing, maternal instinct that passed over her own mother was alive and well in her. 

John wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed their first child was a girl. He’d sing to her, make up soft, sweet little songs about Samantha, bounce her in his arms with the rhythm that came so naturally to him until her cries turned into bubbling laughter. The corners of his eyes would crinkle at the sound, and he’d start laughing too. Woody might as well have been in heaven.

Her parents never sang to her as a child. Stale air and empty silence composed the soundtrack of the Woodward residence—hardly a house, certainly never a home. A place where people slept and breathed and moved around but didn’t live.

It’d taken getting used to, being in a place that felt so warm and alive, love radiating from the floral wallpaper John’s brother helped them put up one weekend, the couch his mother bought for them when Woolworth’s was having a sale, the piano they found on a curb one afternoon and spent weeks fixing up until she could hear the sound of John playing from the other side of the house.

“The fireworks are gonna start soon,” Woody said, glancing at the clock on the wall, a wedding gift from one of his cousins.

He nodded, standing up from the kitchen table and passing Sammy to her mother. “I’ll throw the blanket over Blue’s cage and get some music playing.”

Out of all the pets they could’ve gotten, a parakeet probably wouldn’t have made anyone’s list. Upon moving into their first house, John graciously agreed that pet ownership could serve as the test run to assuage Woody’s fear of motherhood, specifically whether or not she even had the emotional capacity to care for something that relied on her so heavily to survive. Blue—a temporary name which ended up being not so temporary—fit right in with their noisy household. Whistled and chirped along to John’s music, and picked up an expletive or two from Woody, which was funny until Sammy came along.

The Fourth of July marked a little over two months since she’d given birth to Samantha Brady, and Woody no longer felt like the other shoe was going to drop and motherhood would end up being some big mistake she couldn’t handle. It certainly wasn’t easy. Woody worked at the garage as long as she physically could during the pregnancy, and John taught private music lessons after school and during the summer to make up for the gap in their income. Even then, the belt tightening meant less things like going to the movies or out to dinner, hardly feasible with an infant, anyway.

Typically, the parade in town started early to avoid the worst of the heat before it settled in, but she and John would end up spending so much time talking to other couples and families, people from their parish that they’d run into, both of them would be sweating by the time they got home in the afternoon. It was one of few holidays they didn’t join his family for, despite one of his uncles hosting what Woody had heard was one hell of a barbecue. 

Fireworks were a crapshoot, generally unwelcome on the Fourth, and the odd ones New Year’s Eve. Loud music and a little alcohol ended up being the solution, a house party for two, though adding a baby into the equation made their tried and true method more uncertain.

He joined them in the living room, having successfully tricked the parakeet into thinking night had already fallen. The first few times they’d done so, Woody felt bad for the poor bird, but she supposed there would be things she’d lie to Samantha about too, like Santa Claus and transubstantiation. 

“Alright Sammy, first song of the evening’s your pick,” he said, holding up three singles from their impressive record collection. It seemed silly at first, working that into their budget, but John’s students were always bringing up new music, and he liked to be in the know, found it easier to teach them songs they were interested in learning.

Sammy vaguely kicked toward one of the singles.

“What’d she choose?” he asked.

“The Louis Prima one.”

“Interesting.”

“She probably likes it because of the sleeve,” she said. “It’s bright blue and the other two are just plain.”

“She’s developing her own taste already.”

Woody laughed. “Just put the song on, Johnny.”

He did, dropping the needle on the 45 and taking her free hand to pull her in for a kiss. 

Two hours, half a dozen singles and LPs, and a diaper change later, the only indication of the fireworks outside had been the faint flashing through the curtains, hardly noticeable among their raging party of three. 

John declared a break after finishing his second glass of whiskey and leading a tango Woody practically tripped through, but she was absolutely thrilled when he dipped her at the end of the song and gave her a kiss. The break turned into him dozing off on the couch just before the roaring Latin record ended.

Woody switched over to the radio, setting the volume loud enough to drown out any fireworks, and took Sammy into her arms.

Slipping outside, she held the baby close as they watched the night sky light up red, white, and blue from the backyard. Sammy squealed when the first firework burst, her big eyes sparkling as the falling embers faded in the distance. She threw her little hands around in excitement until tugging on a thick lock of Woody’s hair.

“I know, baby. Aren’t they pretty?” Woody cooed. Her gaze was glued to the sky as the next few fireworks went off. “That’s where you came from, straight out of the sky to save me, just like your daddy,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose into her daughter’s wispy hair.

She pressed a kiss to her cheek and nearly laughed when she saw that Sammy was asleep. After watching one more firework go off, she went back inside. Unlike their daughter, John stirred awake when the back door closed.

“There you are,” he mumbled.

“Would you believe she fell asleep out there?” Woody said, her voice carrying softly over the sound of the radio.

He yawned, sitting up as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I can believe it.”

“No, you stay. I’ll put her up and be right back.”

“Not without letting me give her a kiss goodnight.”

Woody easily conceded, a small smile on her face as John kissed Sammy’s forehead. 

She brought Sammy into her room, carefully placing her in her crib. There had been plenty of sleepless nights since the baby had been born, Woody taking on the bulk of them since she wasn’t working, but sometimes, John couldn’t sleep anyway, and the following morning she’d find him asleep in the armchair in the living room, baby in his arms and the radio playing low. When she’d wake him up to take Samantha, she tried to make sure coffee was already brewing—it was one of few things in the kitchen she could do well.

When she returned to the living room, he had his pipe between his lips, smoke slowly rising above his head.

“She doing okay?” he asked.

He reached out for her, and when she put her hand in his, he pulled her onto his lap. Her laughter mixed with a shriek of shock, a joyous howl that pierced the air as she situated herself. She glanced toward the stairs, and hearing nothing from their daughter, said, “Absolutely perfect,” and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “How about you?”

“Couldn’t be better,” he said. “Beautiful wife, healthy daughter, and a bird that knows how to whistle along to ‘When the Saints Come Marching In.’”

“Really though, you’re good?”

“Yeah, I am, sweetheart.” He was silent for a few moments as he puffed on his pipe. “She was worth the wait.”

“So were you. I didn’t know I could be this happy.”

He smiled. “Me either.”

[pacifierbby]

THE NANNY ~ part 1

- And I'm so impatient when you're not mine I just want to catch up on all the lost times And I'll say I'm sorry if I sound sordid 'Cause all I really ever want is you.

Summary ~ Mason was an amazing dad to his little girl, april. Whenever Mason went, his little girl came with even including to his game when his mum had her. However, when an opportunity pulled up for him to leave Chelsea and move to Manchester, he couldn't say no. However, 4 hours away from London, Mason had to get a nanny for his little girl.

A/N~ hello so this is my first series please give me feedback it will really help! Hope you all enjoy your day lovely's

Warning~ mother abandonment,Mason fluff,Mason dad fic

Pairing ~ masons mount x reader

Taglist ~ @writergiih

Locations ~ Manchester, Masons house

Mason did everything for his little girl he always made sure that she was first before himself. April's mother left when she was 1 month old. Apparently, she couldn't cope with being a mother at the age of 23 she just wanted to go to different clubs and party so when mason woken up on that morning to a note that been left on the fridge and his daughter in the cot he knew from that day that he would fight for his little princess.

Leaving his family behind when Mason moved from London to Manchester was the hardest thing he could ever do. his family was the only people he trusted to look after April it's not like they were around the corner anymore. They were 4 hours away.

His mum and dad couldn't always come up to Manchester when it was game time. And that's why Mason is sitting on his sofa the TV playing quietly in the background his daughter playing with her dolls on the floor, his laptop placed on his knees indeed pulled up making the dreaded Job offer a nanny.

mason never wanted this to happen from the day April was born he looked after her, but times are getting hard, and there's only so much his mother or dad could do. Once he finished posting the nanny advertisement on Indeed he closed the lid to his laptop put it beside him on the sofa and looked down at his baby girl who was playing with the bratz hair "Come on my love let's have a bath we have a long day ahead tomorrow." Letting April place her toys on the floor.

picking up the little girl placing her arms around his neck, and kissing him on the cheek Mason smiled walking up the stairs and into the bathroom placing April onto the toilet seat "Daddy's going to get your nightwear from your bedroom stay, here until I get back" April nodded quickly. mason turned around turning the taps onto the bath Letting the water get a bit hot before putting the plug in "All alright my love I won't be long" heading towards her room quickly grabbing her favorite fluffy pajamas from the draws and her nightie that were hung behind the door heading back to the bathroom. Helping April to get undressed and into the bath once he knew she was safe, he sat on the toilet seat watching her play with the bubbles that he put in beforehand and her bath toys. "Alright, my love, let's have a wash and wash your hair." Mason stood up, putting the soap on the sponge that he dipped in the water. and gave her the sponge. He grabbed the shower head off its bracket, turned it on, and started to wash her hair.

Assisting April out of the bath letting her play a little bit more once she finished having her wash placing her on the ground getting the towel from the radiator, and making sure she was dry before getting her in her pajamas "Come on my little love bug let's read a story before going to sleep" grabbing hold of April's hand and taking her Into her room.

Mason tucked his little girl in bed, putting her covers under her chin. " All right, my love, do you want me to read you a story?" Pushing her hair away from her face and kissing the top of her head "No Daddy, not tonight" Mason smiled kissing the top of her head once last time "Goodnight love bug" walking towards the door turning the lights off, and leaving the door ajar so she can see where she was going if she got up in the middle of the night. He went into his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. getting undressed into his pajamas, pulling the quilt covers off the bed a bit, getting inside his own bed,letting sleep take over him, and wondering about what the next day will hold.

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - drabble (1)

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. |

Drabble #1: The Week in Coachella

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: a little insight as to the ‘domestic bliss’ J was referring to 👀 this takes place during chapter 4, the week leading up to R’s peformance. the first of many drabbles (hopefully)

Word Count: 3.8k+

Monday: 

“Turn it off… Jenna, turn it off!”

You whined, aimlessly swiping your hand on the covers in hopes it hits the other actress. 

The alarm blaring rudely in the dark, quiet air interrupted the solitude of the early morning.

You hear her groans but it sounded muffled under the lump of covers and pillows. “You turn it off…”

“Jenna…” You groaned but she still refused to move from her seemingly comfortable position. With a huff, you throw the covers off your head, squinting in the unlit room. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, what the fuck?

Reaching over Jenna’s body, you grabbed your phone on her bedside table. You must have fallen asleep with it in your hand again and Jenna must have placed it there for you. 

“It’s not even mine.” You muttered, reaching for her phone instead and snoozing the alarm. Then you flung yourself back into your side of the bed, sighing in satisfaction because the annoying alarm wasn’t blaring in your eardrums anymore.

“Was it my phone?” Jenna lifted the cover off her head but remained under. Her hair is a mess after a night of tossing and turning and yet she still looked… pretty. You’re not blind, she’s gorgeous but there’s something about her, being the first thing you wake up to that makes your heart palpitate uncomfortably.

Probably heartburn from last night’s dinner. Yeah. That’s it.

“Mhmm.” You hummed. It’s too early for words.

She groaned dropping the covers to hide again. “I have pick up at 5.”

“You’re working?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you.” You hear and feel the shuffles of Jenna climbing out of the covers. “Are you going to be okay being alone with my family today?”

Cracking a single eye open and even through the darkness in the room, you see her brows knitted worriedly. “I’ll be fine, Jenna. I’ve been here for two days now, I’m settled in.”

“Are you sure? You can come with me to set if you want. I think I’m only filming some promo videos of Dior.” She urged. When you hear the concern in her voice, you opened your eyes fully, sitting up. 

“Jen, I’ll be okay. I promise. It’ll be nice to just chill today too ‘cause I’m not needed for soundcheck again until Thursday.” You reassured, blindly placing your hand on her bare thigh.

You feel her tense under your touch and you were about to pull away and apologize, not meaning to place your hand there but she placed her palm atop yours. “Okay… but if you need me to come back–”

“I won’t need to, but I will text you if anything happens, stop worrying.” You rolled your eyes, pulling your burning hand away. “Now go get ready before you’re late. I will be going to bed.”

“How can you go back to sleep so easily?” She questioned, climbing out of the covers. 

“Mhmm… magic.” You slur, already on the verge of sleeping.

You miss Jenna watching you for a few, long seconds with a fond smile after you’ve fallen asleep. You also miss her panic once she realized what she was doing, promptly turning on her heel to walk into the bathroom.

*** 

It was around 8:30 when you woke up again and like last time, it wasn’t on your own accord.

“Dad says wake up.” You spring up from the bed, eyes still closed.

You weren’t even sure if you were still dreaming but you swore you heard a voice.

“Over here.” Blinking your eyes open, you see Aliyah leaning against the doorframe with a smug smile. “Nice hair, is this what Jenna’s been waking up to every morning?”

“I see you and her share the same need to make fun of me.” You grumbled, wiping your eyes as they adjusted to the sunlight peering into the room.

“Mhmm. That’s how the family shows we care, we tease.” The younger girl shrugged, “Now come on, there’s breakfast downstairs and then chores.”

“Chores?” You asked but she already left.

Fucking chores? What the hell did you sign up for?

Swiftly, you threw on a presentable sweatsuit and brushed your teeth before hopping down the steps. From the moment you opened the door, you could already smell savoury waft of the morning meal awaiting you in the kitchen.

When you round the corner, entering the dining room everyone was already there, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Natalie smiled when she saw you. “Sorry Aliyah woke you up like that,”

You see her send her daughter a warning glance but you just laughed, waving it off. “No, it’s alright. Worked like a charm.”

“Come sit and eat.” She ushered, and you noted her uniform. 

“I assume you’re working today?” 

“Yes, it’s just going to be you kids in the house today.”

With Coachella weekend coming up, you had forgotten you were currently staying in a house with people who worked regular, 9-5 jobs.

“Oh, alright.” You smiled gratefully when the matriarch placed a plate of food in front of you.

“Dad and I have to go, you guys be safe okay? Call if you need anything.” She called out to the rest of her kids.

“You guys are carpooling?” Mia asked.

“Yup, the car’s not starting again.” The man grumbled, rising from his seat.

You perk up at that comment. “I can take a look at it for you if you want?”

All heads turn to you.

“You know cars?” Jenna’s dad asked, skeptical. This is the first time you’ve talked directly to the man.

“Yes sir.” You clear your throat, sitting up straighter. There was something about the man, maybe it was his constant silence or just Dads in general that made you a bit tense and feel out of your depth. “Used to work on them with my best friend, just a hobby but I learned a thing or two.”

He raised a brow but didn’t say anything. Natalie spoke up for him. “You don’t have to do that Y/N, but we would appreciate it regardless.”

You nodded, sending them a small smile. Aware that the man still hasn’t given you an answer but hey, you’ll take what you can get.

“We gotta go.” The parents bid goodbye and when the door shut, an awkward silence hung in the hair.

You keep your head down and pretend your breakfast was the most interesting thing on Earth.

“So, you got plans today?” Mia asked.

Lifting your head, you pointed to yourself, “Me?”

“Who else?” She raised a brow, and suddenly you’re made aware that sarcasm runs in the family.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you drop your spoon. “I don’t have plans.”

“Perfect. We’re all doing something.” Mia grinned.

You looked at Aliyah and Markus sending them apprehensive looks. “I… don’t like the way you said that.”

“Relax, superstar… when was the last time you let loose?” Mia grinned leaning on her elbows.

You glanced at the three siblings warily, “Fine… but if Jenna asks, it wasn’t my idea.”

“We’ll deal with her.” Aliyah matched her sister’s grin.

***

“This was your idea of letting loose?” You heaved exasperatedly, leaning against the leather headrest of the driver’s seat. 

The three siblings’ laugh resounds around you, agitating you further. Is this what it was like to have siblings? Maybe you’re not missing out on much.

“I thought you were an action star? Don’t you guys get paid to work out for Marvel?” Aliyah asked from the backseat. 

“I’m out of commission.” You glared through the rearview mirror. “And I hate hiking… why did we pick that?”

You started the ignition, cranking the AC to full blast and sighing in relief as the cool air relieves your sticky-red skin. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed. But there isn’t much to do around here.” Markus piqued up from beside his sister. “So when we all get together, we like to go hiking. Jen can’t make it most of the time, but I guess you’re the next best thing.”

He joked prompting his sisters to laugh but you flushed under the suggestion. You chose not to comment, instead pulling out of the parking spot. Clearing your thickening throat, you asked, “Where to?”

When you get back to the house, you're instantly met with an unimpressed look from the actress.

“You guys hung out without me?” Jenna crossed her arms as she stood in the foyer of her home, watching her siblings plus you trickle into the house. It’s fair to say that the younger actress was quite confused when she came back to an empty house. 

“Yup…” Mia responded, sipping on her drink as she walked passed the shorter actress. 

One by one, she glared at each of her siblings as they walked passed her until only you remained. You smiled sheepishly, holding out a drink. “They said you always get this smoothie… don’t be mad?”

Jenna stared at the drink in your hands. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. “Thanks…”

You send a large, goofy smile, pleased with yourself, “No worries.”

***

Tuesday:

The jury’s still up for debate if you’re enjoying yourself.

See you thought you were. Sure sharing a single queen bed with Jenna is… less than ideal, the home-cooked dinners have been delicious, and her family has been nothing but hospitable. You should be having a good time, right? Except, right now you’re seriously debating changing your answer cause you’re stuck.

Tied down, would be a better description.

“Jenna, please. Help!” You managed to pull out a free arm from one of her cousin’s firm grip.

Why do these kids have such strong hands?

Jenna turned at the sound of your desperation, cutting her conversation with her sisters short then she laughed, taking her phone out to record.

“No, please.” You nearly cried out, flailing your free hand.

“Show us your superpowers, Spider-Woman!” Another child yelled, jumping in front of you.

“Ow..” Your footing stumbles with the added weight, trying to hold the kid up in your arms.

“I count… one, two, three… oh and there's a fourth one hiding behind your legs, how cute.” Jenna circles you, recording all the children clinging onto you for dear life.

“Jenna, please. I’m gonna drop this child…” You begged again, arms burning uncomfortably.

You’re one kid away from toppling over if she doesn’t help you. If you do, you’re taking her down with you.

“I thought you do action movies? Use that action star training…” Jenna teased just like her sister, in turn, you glared menacingly.

“If I do go down, I’m taking you with me…”

She rolled her eyes, put her phone away then walked over to grab the kid in your arms. “Come on, guys… let’s give her some space.” She shooed off.

They groaned, echoing ‘you’re no fun’ at Jenna,  and you’d laugh at her offended face if you weren’t thankful that you feel 100 pounds lighter.

“You sure took your time,” You scoffed at her, watching as Jenna lets the toddler down on the ground after she got too fussy in her arms.

“Mmm… it was just too adorable.” She pulled out her phone to show you the multiple pictures of your panicked face, flailing hand and the small army of kids sticking to your side.

“Delete that…” You attempted to swipe her phone, but she stuck her arm out of reach, too quick for you.

“No!” She laughed, leaning back. You leaned forward, trying to swipe at the phone again but she pressed her hips against yours — pushing you back.

“Delete it!” You grabbed the dip in her waist with one hand; the phone now just at the tip of your fingers.

Jenna curled into a ball, clutching the phone to her chest making you wrap your arms around her body – practically embracing her.

“Seriously?” You laughed at the childish antics.

“Let me keep it!” She snickered, body shaking as she laughed and you couldn’t help but join in, forgetting about the embarrassing photos.

“Fine.” Rolling your eyes, you dropped your arms to your side, stepping back. “But if you post that, you’re dead.”

Jenna uncurled, standing straight with a lop-sided smile, “Who’s gonna stop me?”

You stare back challengingly but once you saw the up flick of her brow, you knew it was a done deal. With a sigh and a drop of a head, you muttered. “Whatever…”

Then you walked back to your seat beside her sisters.

Reaching down on the grass to grab your drink, you pretend not to hear Aliyah and Mia telling Jenna that you two are cute.

Pulling out your phone, you ignore everything going on around you. You feel Jenna take her seat beside you. 

“Hey Y/N,” Aliyah spoke up, phone in hand.

You flick a brow up, “What’s up?”

“You know this song?” She tapped her phone, connecting it to the speaker and playing a song that sounded faintly familiar.

Furrowing your brows, you shake your head, glancing at Jenna who had a confused look as well. “No? Did I write it?”

“You don’t know what songs you wrote?” Jenna asked, turning to you.

“No? There’s too many and sometimes if it doesn’t fit me, I just take writing credit or I produce it for someone else.” You shrugged.

Aaliyah shook her head, gaining your attention. “No, listen.” She smirked.

When the singer started singing, you froze, the tips of your ears reddening.

“I don’t get it?” Jenna asked.

“This is Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter,” Aaliyah commented.

“Okay?” Jenna was lost. “Am I missing something?”

“Nope. I don’t think so— you wanna go for a walk?” You stood up swiftly, nearly giving Jenna whiplash as her eyes followed your movements.

You wiggle your fingers for her to take, but Jenna stayed put. 

“Later —“ She dismissed you, turning to her sisters who wore smug smiles on their faces, “What’s so special about this song?”

“Ask her…” Aliyah nodded toward you, currently pretending like you couldn’t hear the conversation around you.

She raised her brow, noting your weird demeanour. “What’s so special about this song?”

“Nothing.” Jenna raised a brow. You sighed, sitting back down beside her with a slump, ignoring the three others piercing stares. “Except it’s about…. me, or so I’ve heard, I don’t know.”

Jenna’s brows raised in surprise, her cheeks reddening when the next line plays. “It feels so good I had to jump the octave?”

You flushed, covering your face in embarrassment. “God, this is my worst nightmare.”

Her sisters’ watched with satisfied smiles as you continued to be embarrassed, actively avoiding everyone’s eyes and Jenna, who was stunned in silence but honestly looked more bothered the longer the song played.

You’ve never actually heard the song in its entirety, too embarrassed when someone said it was about you. You only saw the other singer one, two, three maybe even four times — so you were shocked.

“How fast can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?” Jenna reiterated as the song ended.

“Please, stop!” You groaned into your palms.

If Jenna wasn’t so satisfied with your embarrassment already, she might even admit that she’s a bit… irritated, for reasons unknown.

“Okay, Aliyah enough.” Jenna glared when the song replayed by accident.

Her sisters tried to chuckle lowly, but Jenna glared until they took the hint and scurried away, leaving just you and her.

“Are they gone?” You peeked through the opening in your fingers. 

“They're gone.” She chuckled, but the silence that followed was slightly awkward. “So… you and Sabrina? Didn’t know that.”

You cleared your throat, dropping your hands. “Yeah—uh. It wasn’t really anything.”

“Sounds like it was something…I mean she wrote a whole song about you.” Jenna questioned and for a second you wondered if she was jealous.

No, no way.

“That’s just fan theories and shit. I actually don’t know if it’s about me.” You felt the need to clear up. “It didn’t mean anything to me, at least.”

Jenna scanned you for a few seconds, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the intense gaze. “Mhmm. Cool.”

You blinked, unsure what that meant. But before you could say anything she’s standing, holding her hand out for you to take.

“Wanna go on that walk now?”

You nodded, slipping your fingers in between hers.

***

Wednesday: 

“Have you seen Y/N?” Jenna peeked her head inside her brother’s room.

“Not recently…” Markus responded, not looking away from his computer screen. “I think I saw her an hour ago though.”

“Where?” She huffed, leaning against the door frame.

“Don’t remember…” He replied distractedly. Jenna sighed, knowing she wasn’t gonna get a straight answer from him. 

Making her way down the stairs, she rounded the corner, entering the living room. “Has anybody seen Y/N?” 

She was met with silence. “Hello?” Jenna spoke up agitated.

“She’s with Dad, relax,” Aliyah answered and the actress couldn't even hide her shock. “She’s checking the car or something.”

“They’re together? Alone?”

Her sister nodded, confused.

“Yes? Why?’

“No reason…” Jenna lied.

“Is she scared of Dad?” Aliyah asked, a smirk on her lips.

Jenna rolled her eyes, not answering. Turning on her heel, she walked swiftly to the garage. You never admitted it out loud but she could see how tense you are around her Dad. It amused her more than anything.

Upon opening the door, she’s expecting to be met with silence as you worked on the car. Instead, her Dad’s laughter filled the room. 

“That’ll teach you to make a bet with her…” Her dad continued to joke. 

Stepping closer, she can make out your muffled chuckles from under the car. “Yeah… that one was on me, honestly. Robbed me clean of a thousand dollars.”

“Oh hey, honey. What are you doing here?” Her dad asked, noticing her standing by the door with a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Is that Jenna?” You asked.

“Yeah…” He responded.

Jenna blinked out of her stupor, walking to the hood of the car where her Dad waited patiently as you lay underneath the vehicle. “What’s going on here?”

You slid out from under the engine, using an old skateboard as a mechanic creeper; some oil splotched on your cheek. “Your Dad said the car wasn’t starting, so I offered to have a look at it.”

Jenna watches on as her Dad extended a hand out to haul you up. Exchanging the wrench in your hand for a wet rag to wipe the dirt off. She flicked a brow up in surprise. “I didn’t know you knew cars like that…”

You match her raised brow, “what, you think my cars are just for show?”

She rolled her eyes, not answering while you grinned, taking it as a win. She allowed her gaze to drop, noting your engine oil-stained white shirt hugging your arms tight and dark washed-out denim jeans. Looking like a real mechanic. 

“I think it was the transmission, try turning it on.” You said to her Dad. 

He follows your instructions, pushing the key into the ignition and turning it. Sputtered sounds of the engine roughly kicked back until eventually, it settled into a low, even rumble. You send her Dad a gratified smile. “What’d I say?”

“Impressive…” He scratched his chin, “I went to three different mechanics and none of them could tell me what was wrong.”

“Those guys are useless. You call me anytime there’s something wrong with her.” You popped off the hood struts, putting it back in its place before dropping the car hood closed with a loud slam, tapping on the top contently.

“You actually fixed that old junk?” Jenna crossed her arms, a little impressed but she’d never say it out loud.

You spin, flicking an unamused brow. “You doubting my skills, Ortega?”

Jenna tried shrugging impassively, walking closer to observe the running car. “Every single one of my siblings learned how to drive in this car, including me. Dad refuses to get rid of it.”

You run a hand over the hood again. What the younger actress said must’ve added to your satisfaction. “Just makes it more special then…”

“See, she gets it.” Her Dad peeks his head out from the driver's seat. 

“We’re not starting this…” Jenna spun in her heels, walking back into the house. She ignored her thudding chest.

***

Thursday:

“Hey, how was Soundcheck?” Jenna looked up from her book, watching as you trudge into her childhood bedroom in slow steps.

“S’okay…” You mumbled,  lazily dropping your shoulder bag on the foot of the bed. With a heavy sigh, you sat down and let gravity do all the work as you fell onto your back. Sighing in relief when it connects with the soft mattress. 

“What’s wrong?” Jenna crawled to the foot of the bed, rubbing your shoulder. She watched as your eyes fluttered closed in fatigue.

“Long day… too hot.” You muttered causing Jenna to chuckle.

“Well, we are in the desert.”

“Should have thought about that when I agreed to perform…” By now, Jenna’s fingers worked their way through your hair. Softly scratching your scalp. 

“Speaking of performing…” Jenna tried not to pay attention to the way you practically purred under her touch. “Who are you going on with?”

You grinned adorably, like when a baby smiled in their sleep. “Nice try…”

She tugged on your roots a bit, “Tease…”

“You’re the one tugging on my hair…” You cracked an eye open, staring up at her. Jenna flushed, choosing to ignore your words. 

“Why don’t you take a shower and we can finish watching Breaking Bad? Relax before your performance tomorrow?”

“That sounds perfect.” You scrambled up to grab some clothes from your suitcase before running to the adjoining bathroom. 

Jenna shook her head in amusement, ignoring the butterflies thrashing in her stomach. She moved up the bed, getting your side ready, and propping up the pillows to your preferred angle. Then she grabbed the remote, exiting out of the trashy reality show that she wasn’t really paying attention to. Only choosing the program to pass the time as she waited for you to come… home. But only because she’s honourable and chooses to uphold her side of the agreement; not to watch Breaking Bad without the other. 

20 minutes pass when the bathroom door creaked open and you stepped out, looking far more relaxed than when you first came in. 

Sliding into your side, you wiggled around, trying to get comfortable. “You kept your promise and didn’t watch the next episode.”

“Surprised?” She raised a brow.

“Mmm… a little.” You shrug, shooting her a chaffing smile. 

She elbowed your side, “idiot.”

“Okay, okay, just play the episode. I’ve been looking forward to watching it with you all day.” You covered a blanket over your lap, not realizing what you just said. Jenna stares at you, not speaking.

You turn, pulling a face before it contorts to an amused smile. You grab the remote out of her hands, not calling her out on her silence. “Come on, get down here.”

Still unspeaking, Jenna’s body moves automatically, sliding in close beside you; shoulders pressed together. The younger actress doesn’t have it in her to admit that she’s been waiting for you to come back because recently, she finds she can’t sleep without you.

Jenna chooses not to comment when she feels your head lean comfortably against hers.

—

(a little treat before ch 7🫢 )

***

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[artyandink]

the art of heresy forged 1943

SUMMARY: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

TW: psychological torture, trauma, angst, drinking, prostitution, smoking, mentions of sex, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), Ben and Psyke being little shits, it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, alcoholism, shitty dad, literal crack

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

Song Inspo: Confident - Demi Lovato

four - head to the back

1943:

The sound of silverware clinking against porcelain plates filled the modest dining room. The table was set simply, with a mismatched collection of plates and utensils that had seen better days, but they were polished and placed with care. The tablecloth, though worn, was clean, and a small vase of freshly picked wildflowers sat in the center, a touch of beauty in an otherwise plain setting. The smell of roasted chicken and potatoes lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of woodsmoke from the hearth.

You moved deftly around the small kitchen, hands familiar with the rhythm of preparing a meal for your family. The task had long since become second nature to you—boiling the potatoes, seasoning the chicken, making sure everything was just right. Though you were only nineteen, you’d taken on the role of caretaker in your family for as long as you could remember.

Edward, your father, sat at the head of the table, his expression a mixture of weariness and disinterest. His shirt was slightly rumpled, and his face bore the marks of too many nights spent with a bottle in hand. Though his presence was imposing, you’d learned to navigate around his moods, finding ways to keep the peace when necessary.

Your mother, Bethany, sat across from him, her thin frame wrapped in a shawl to keep warm. She was frail, her once vibrant eyes dulled by the illness that had taken hold of her over the past few years. Despite her condition, she managed a tired smile as you brought the food to the table.

“Thank you, dear,” Bethany said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked at you with a mixture of pride and gratitude, though there was a sadness in her eyes that you tried to ignore.

“It’s nothing, Mama,” you replied, placing a plate in front of her. “Just rest and let me take care of everything.”

Beside her, your younger siblings, Elizabeth and Henry, waited eagerly for their dinner. Elizabeth was ten, with a mop of unruly curls and a mischievous grin that reminded you of your mother before she fell ill. Henry, just six years old, was wide-eyed and innocent, his curiosity about the world around him untainted by the hardships that had become your daily reality.

“Careful, it’s hot,” you warned as you placed the chicken in the center of the table. Elizabeth and Henry watched you with anticipation, their eyes lighting up as they caught sight of the meal you had prepared.

“Smells delicious, sis,” Elizabeth said, reaching for a potato as soon as you’d placed it in front of her.

“Wait until it’s cool enough to eat,” you chided gently, giving her a fond smile. “You don’t want to burn your mouth.”

Henry giggled, reaching for his fork with both hands. “I won’t burn my mouth. I’ll be really careful!”

You chuckled, ruffling his hair as you took your seat beside him. “I know you will, Henry. You’re always careful.”

Edward watched the scene unfold with a distant gaze, his fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey. You caught his eye briefly, offering him a small smile, but he only grunted in response, taking a long drink from his glass. The tension in the room was something you were used to by now—your father’s moods were unpredictable, and you’d learned to navigate around them, keeping your siblings safe from his occasional outbursts.

As the family began to eat, the conversation remained light, focusing on the small joys of the day. Elizabeth eagerly shared stories from school, her animated voice filling the room as she recounted her adventures with her friends. Henry, though quieter, chimed in occasionally with his own observations, his youthful enthusiasm infectious.

“And then Miss Turner said we’re going to start a garden at school!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement. “We’ll be growing vegetables and flowers, and we can take some home when they’re ready!”

Bethany smiled softly at her daughter’s excitement. “That sounds wonderful, darling. You’ll have to teach us all about gardening.”

Elizabeth beamed, nodding eagerly. “I will, Mama! I’ll make sure our garden is the best in the whole neighborhood!”

You couldn’t help but smile at Elizabeth’s enthusiasm. It was moments like these that made the difficulties of your life bearable—seeing your siblings happy, even if only for a little while, gave you the strength to keep going.

As the meal continued, you kept an eye on your father, subtly ensuring that his glass remained half-full. You’d learned to manage his drinking as best you could, making sure he didn’t drink too much too quickly. It was a delicate balance, one that required constant attention, but you were determined to maintain it for the sake of your family.

When the meal was finished, you began to clear the table, gathering the plates and utensils while your siblings continued to chatter excitedly about their day. Your mother, exhausted from the effort of sitting up for so long, leaned back in her chair, her eyes closing as she listened to the sound of her children’s voices.

“Let me help, dear,” Bethany said softly, trying to push herself up from her chair.

You shook your head, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her seated. “No, Mama, you rest. I’ve got this.”

Bethany smiled weakly, her hand covering yours for a moment. “You’re a good girl,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

You returned her smile, though your heart ached at the sight of her so frail. “I just want to take care of you, Mama.”

As you moved to the kitchen to begin washing the dishes, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment despite the challenges you faced. This was your life—caring for your family, making sure everyone was safe and fed. It wasn’t easy, but it was the only life you knew, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The sound of Elizabeth and Henry’s laughter filled the house as they played in the living room, their voices a reminder of the innocence that still existed within the walls of your home. You could hear them teasing each other, their playful banter bringing a smile to your face as you scrubbed the dishes clean.

Outside, the world was at war, the headlines filled with stories of battles fought far from your small town. But here, within the walls of your home, you found solace in the simple routines of daily life. The war had touched your family, as it had touched every family in the country, but you were determined to shield your siblings from its harshest realities for as long as you could.

As you finished washing the last dish and set it on the drying rack, you took a moment to look out the window at the darkening sky. The stars were just beginning to appear, tiny pinpricks of light in the vast expanse of night. You wondered if your father had ever dreamed of something more—if he had ever looked up at the stars and wished for a different life. But those thoughts were fleeting, quickly replaced by the pressing demands of the present.

“Hey, sis, come see what I drew!” Henry’s voice called from the living room, breaking your reverie.

Drying your hands on a dish towel, you made your way to the living room where Henry and Elizabeth were sitting on the floor, surrounded by crayons and scraps of paper. Henry held up a drawing, his face beaming with pride.

“It’s a picture of us!” he announced, his eyes shining with excitement. “See, there’s you, and Mama, and Lizzie, and me!”

You knelt down beside him, taking the drawing in your hands. The lines were wobbly, the colors outside the lines, but it was a masterpiece in your eyes. “It’s beautiful, Henry,” you said, ruffling his hair affectionately. “You’re quite the artist.”

Elizabeth peered over your shoulder, giggling. “He made your hair purple!”

You laughed, pulling both of them into a hug. “I think I like it,” you said, smiling as they cuddled close.

Bethany watched the scene from her chair, her expression softening as she took in the sight of her children together. Edward, however, remained distant, his eyes fixed on the glass in his hand. You caught his gaze briefly, offering him another small smile, but he only nodded before taking another drink.

The evening passed in a comfortable routine. After helping your siblings with their homework and tucking them into bed, you returned to the kitchen to finish tidying up. Your mother had already retired to her room, exhausted from the day, and your father had disappeared into his study, no doubt to finish off the rest of his whiskey.

You moved quietly through the house, checking on your siblings one last time before heading to your own room. The house was quiet now, the only sound the faint creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. As you closed your bedroom door behind you, you let out a small sigh, allowing yourself a moment of peace.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you picked up the small radio that sat on your nightstand and turned the dial until you found a station playing soft music. The gentle melody filled the room, and you leaned back against your pillows, letting the music wash over you.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of the dining room, casting a warm glow over the modest table where your family gathered for breakfast. You were up early, as always, making sure everything was in order. The scent of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a comforting aroma that made the small house feel like a haven, even amidst the challenges you faced.

Elizabeth and Henry sat at the table, eagerly awaiting their breakfast. Elizabeth was busily drawing something on a scrap of paper, her brow furrowed in concentration. Henry, on the other hand, was more focused on the food, his eyes fixed on the plate of bacon you had just set down.

Bethany sat at her usual place, looking a little stronger than the day before. She offered you a grateful smile as you poured her a cup of coffee, though you knew that the effort it took for her to sit there, to even sip her coffee, was enormous. But she was trying, for you, for Elizabeth, for Henry.

“Thank you, darling,” she said, her voice still weak, but with a note of warmth that filled your heart.

“Of course, Mama,” you replied with a smile, placing a plate of toast and eggs in front of her.

Edward shuffled into the room last, bleary-eyed and grumpy. His shirt was half-buttoned, and his hair was in disarray. The stench of whiskey clung to him, as it often did these days. You could see the toll it was taking on him, on all of you, but you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on keeping the morning peaceful.

“Morning,” he grunted, dropping into his chair at the head of the table. He reached for his coffee, not bothering with a greeting to the rest of the family. You quietly placed a plate of food in front of him, hoping to keep his temper at bay.

The clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of conversation filled the room as everyone dug into their breakfast. Elizabeth chattered about school, excitedly telling you and your mother about the garden they were starting, while Henry tried his best to sneak extra pieces of bacon onto his plate.

You smiled as you watched them, feeling a rare moment of contentment. For all the struggles and hardships, these moments made it worth it—seeing your siblings happy, seeing your mother’s faint smile as she listened to them.

But that fleeting peace was shattered by a loud knock on the front door.

You exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with your mother before wiping your hands on a dish towel and heading to the door. Edward barely looked up from his coffee, his focus already on the bottle he’d hidden in his lap.

Opening the door, you were met with the sight of two men in dark suits. They stood rigidly, exuding an air of authority that sent a chill down your spine. One of them, a tall man with slicked-back hair and a stern expression, held a clipboard. The other, shorter but just as imposing, looked around with a critical eye.

“Good morning,” the tall man said in a clipped tone, not bothering to introduce himself. “Is this the residence 85 Shorebridge Lane? We’re looking for Edward?”

You swallowed hard, your heart beginning to race. “Yes, it is. I’m his daughter. Can I help you?”

The man with the clipboard glanced at his companion before looking back at you. “We’re with Vought-American. We’re here regarding a debt that he owes our company.”

A sense of dread settled in your stomach. You knew your father had been struggling to make ends meet, especially with the drinking, but you hadn’t realized it had gone this far. “A debt?” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yes,” the man confirmed. “A significant sum, in fact. It appears that your father was involved in an incident that resulted in the damage of Vought property. The debt has been outstanding for several months, and our attempts to collect have been ignored.”

You felt your heart drop. Vought was a powerful corporation, and you knew they didn’t take these matters lightly. “I-I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware of any debt. I’m sure there’s been some mistake.”

The man’s expression remained cold, unyielding. “There’s no mistake. The debt is substantial, and it needs to be settled immediately.”

Your mind raced, trying to figure out how to handle this. There was no way your father had that kind of money—if he had, you wouldn’t be scraping by as you were. “We don’t have the money,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.

The man with the clipboard sighed, as if he had anticipated your response. “In that case, Vought-American has decided to pursue an alternative form of compensation.”

You blinked in confusion. “Alternative form?”

The shorter man stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over you with a look that made your skin crawl. “We’ve been authorized to take his oldest child as collateral until the debt is repaid.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What?” you gasped, taking a step back. “You can’t do that!”

But the men didn’t flinch. The tall one flipped through the papers on his clipboard, nodding as if confirming something. “Your father’s contract with Vought allows for this action. It’s all legal.”

Panic surged through you. You’d heard stories about Vought and their ruthless methods, but you never imagined it would happen to your family. “Please, there has to be another way,” you pleaded, your voice shaking. “Take something else, anything—just not me.”

The shorter man smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. “We don’t want your old furniture or broken-down car. Vought invests in people, not things. And you, miss, are quite the investment.”

You felt like the ground was crumbling beneath your feet. Your mind raced with thoughts of your family—your mother, sick and unable to care for herself; your siblings, who depended on you for everything. How could you leave them? How could you let Vought take you away?

“Let me speak to my father,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to hold yourself together. “Maybe we can figure something out.”

The men exchanged a glance, clearly impatient, but they stepped aside to let you close the door. You rushed back to the dining room, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Papa,” you said urgently, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. “There are men here from Vought. They say you owe them money, and they’re threatening to take me if you don’t pay.”

Edward looked up at you, his face pale. You could see the fear in his eyes, the realization of what his actions had led to. But he didn’t say anything—he just stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Papa, please,” you begged, tears welling in your eyes. “There has to be something we can do.”

But your father just shook his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I…I can’t,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t have the money.”

Bethany, who had been silent until now, reached out to take your hand. Her grip was weak, but you could feel the desperation in it. “We’ll figure something out,” she whispered, her eyes filled with tears. “We’ll find a way to get you back.”

You wanted to believe her, but the fear gnawing at your insides told you that this was a battle you couldn’t win. The men at the door were from Vought, and when they wanted something, they got it.

Taking a deep breath, you squeezed your mother’s hand and looked into her eyes. “I’ll be okay, Mama,” you said, forcing yourself to smile even though you felt anything but okay. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

You turned to Elizabeth and Henry, who were watching with wide, frightened eyes. You knelt down in front of them, trying to keep your voice steady. “Take care of Mama, okay? Be good for her. And don’t worry—I’ll be back soon.”

Elizabeth threw her arms around you, her body trembling as she sobbed into your shoulder. “Don’t go,” she cried. “Please don’t go.”

Henry clung to your other arm, his little face scrunched up in fear. “I don’t want you to go,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hugged them both tightly, fighting back your own tears. “I have to, Lizzie. But I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

Edward remained silent, staring into his coffee cup as if it held the answers to all of life’s problems. There was no fight left in him, no words of comfort or strength. The man who should have protected you was defeated, beaten down by his own vices and the crushing weight of his mistakes.

You rose slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you like a leaden shroud. The reality of the situation was sinking in—Vought wasn’t just taking you away; they were taking your future, your freedom, your life as you knew it.

The men were waiting when you returned to the door, their expressions unchanged. The shorter one smirked again, a sick satisfaction in his eyes as he watched you struggle to maintain your composure.

“I’m ready,” you said, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound strong.

The tall man with the clipboard nodded, his expression neutral. “Good. Let’s go.”

They led you out of the house, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t look back, couldn’t look back. The sight of your family—their tear-st

reaked faces, their broken hearts—would have shattered what little resolve you had left.

As they escorted you to a sleek black car parked in front of the house, you felt a sense of unreality wash over you. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to turn out. You were supposed to take care of your family, grow up with your siblings, and maybe, just maybe, find some happiness of your own.

But now all of that was slipping away, stolen by the cold, calculating hands of Vought-American.

The car door slammed shut behind you, and the engine roared to life. As the car pulled away from the only home you’d ever known, you stared out the window, watching as the house grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared from view.

And in that moment, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

NOW:

The dim light of the motel room flickered, casting long shadows on the worn carpet. The room was a far cry from the luxury they once knew, but for now, it was their base of operations. A map of the United States was spread out on the bed, littered with notes, pictures, and names crossed out in red ink. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat precariously on the edge of the nightstand, and the faint scent of cigarette smoke hung in the air.

You were nestled between Ben’s legs, your back pressed against his solid chest. His arms were wrapped loosely around you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your stomach, occasionally dipping lower just to make you squirm. It was comfortable, familiar, even with the electric undercurrent of violence that seemed to hum around the two of you these days. You had always thrived on chaos, and being with Ben meant there was no shortage of it.

“Alright, let’s go over it again,” you said, picking up a marker and tapping it against the map. “Crimson Countess is toast, thanks to you. Butcher took out Gunpowder. Who’s left?”

Ben chuckled, his breath warm against your neck. “Fucking love when you talk dirty like that.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smirk tugged at your lips. “Focus, asshole. We’ve got a few more of these Payback assholes to deal with.”

Ben’s hand slipped under your shirt, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I’m focused. Focused on how fucking tight you are, baby doll.”

You let out a sharp breath as his hand dipped lower, but you grabbed his wrist, stopping him just short of where he wanted to go. “Not yet, you horny bastard. We’ve got shit to do. And you know I used to wear those.”

“Always such a tease, sweet thing,” he growled, but he didn’t push it, at least not yet. His hand settled back on your stomach, and he nipped at your earlobe before finally, reluctantly, turning his attention to the map.

“Okay, so, who’s left?” Ben’s voice was a low rumble against your back, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine.

You pushed the marker across the map, stopping at a photo of a man with slicked-back hair and a smarmy grin. “Swatto. He’s a fucking bug, always buzzing around and pissing me off. Turns out he survived that rocket thing, Butcher’s doing recon to find out if he’ll fight.”

Ben snorted. “That dipshit was always hiding behind his wings. Like a fucking coward. Should be easy enough to swat.”

You laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Fucking hilarious, Ben. I’m sure you’ll have a real blast with him.”

He shifted behind you, one of his hands sliding down to your thigh, squeezing it possessively. “Oh, I will. Can’t wait to tear those wings off and see him squirm.”

“Jesus, you’re a sick fuck,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the idea of seeing Swatto get what was coming to him. After all the years of seeing these assholes get away with everything, the thought of finally doling out justice—your version of it—was intoxicating.

“I’m an amazing fuck.”

Ben’s hand continued its slow exploration of your thigh, inching higher, and you had to force yourself to stay on task. “Okay, who else?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Mindstorm,” Ben growled, his mood shifting instantly. His fingers tightened on your leg, his touch no longer teasing. “That fucking psycho. You know how much I want to rip his fucking head off.”

You nodded, your own anger flaring up at the mention of Mindstorm. That bastard was a menace, always getting into people’s heads, fucking with their minds. “He’s a tough one,” you admitted. “But we’ll get him. He’s paranoid as hell, always looking over his shoulder. That’s gonna be his downfall.”

Ben’s lips found your neck, kissing and biting as his hand moved higher. “And what about Noir?” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl.

You tensed slightly at the name. Black Noir was different. He was more dangerous, more unpredictable. You and Ben had both seen what he was capable of, and you knew that taking him down wouldn’t be easy. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to try.

“He’s tricky,” you said, your voice softer now, more thoughtful. “But he’s not invincible. We just have to be smarter, catch him off guard.”

Ben’s other hand slipped under your shirt, cupping your breast as he sucked a mark onto your neck. “Always did have a thing for sneaking around, didn’t you?”

You laughed breathlessly, arching into his touch despite yourself. “I’m fucking good at it, too. But Noir… he’s not just sneaky, he’s—”

“Dangerous,” Ben finished, his voice a low rumble. “But so are we.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with truth. You and Ben had always been dangerous, both of you forged in violence and fire. The world had tried to break you down, but all it did was sharpen your edges, make you harder, stronger. Now, you were like a blade, honed to perfection, ready to cut down anyone who stood in your way.

“Damn right,” you murmured, turning slightly in his arms to look up at him. His green eyes were dark, intense, filled with a hunger that went beyond just the desire for revenge. It was a hunger for you, for the violence you both thrived on, for the chaos you created together.

“Fuck, I love you,” he growled, and before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and demanding. You kissed him back just as fiercely, the map and the list of enemies forgotten for the moment. There was something about the way Ben kissed you that always made your blood boil, like you were both on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating.

His hands roamed over your body, possessive and greedy, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel the heat between you building, the tension coiling tighter with every touch, every kiss. It was like a storm gathering strength, ready to unleash its fury.

You broke the kiss, panting, your lips tingling from the roughness of it. “We should…fuck, we should focus,” you gasped, but even as you said it, you didn’t make any move to pull away from him.

“Later,” Ben muttered against your skin, his lips tracing a path down your neck. “Right now, I’m focusing on you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your resolve crumbling under his touch. “You’re such a fucking distraction.”

“Good,” he growled, his teeth grazing your collarbone. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name.”

The moon was high, casting a pale, cold light over the suburban neighborhood. It was quiet, too quiet for what was about to go down. You stood just inside the tree line with Ben, Butcher, and Hughie, all four of you hidden in the shadows as you surveyed the modest two-story house in front of you. It was the kind of place that could belong to any average middle-class family. The lawn was neatly trimmed, a swing set sat in the backyard, and the porch light was on, giving off a warm, welcoming glow.

But you knew better. Inside that house was no average man. Inside that house was Swatto, and tonight, he was going to pay for everything he’d done.

Butcher and Hughie were huddled together a few feet away, whispering about the plan, going over details you and Ben didn’t give two shits about. Butcher was being his usual self—gruff, methodical, and annoyingly focused on the specifics. Hughie was trying to keep up, nodding along as if he actually understood everything that Butcher was saying.

“Alright, here’s how it’s going to go down,” Butcher said, turning to face you and Ben. His eyes narrowed when he saw the two of you standing there, looking like you couldn’t be bothered to listen. “Oi, you two paying attention?”

Ben rolled his eyes and leaned back against a tree, arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. We go in, we fuck him up, we get out. Simple enough for you?”

Butcher’s jaw tightened, and he looked like he was about to tear into Ben, but then he just let out a heavy sigh. “Just don’t go in guns blazing. We need this to be clean. Swatto’s a slippery fucker, and if he gets wind of us before we’re ready, he’s gone.”

Ben snorted, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Trust me, he’s not going anywhere.”

You couldn’t help but grin at Ben’s confidence. You knew he was right—once you and Ben set your sights on someone, there was no escape. Swatto didn’t stand a chance.

Hughie, ever the nervous one, looked between you and Ben with wide eyes. “Just…try not to burn the house down, okay? There are neighbors. Innocent people.”

You patted Hughie on the back, a little harder than necessary, making him stumble forward. “Relax, kid. We’re not complete psychos. Just…mostly.”

Ben chuckled, but the sound was low, dark. He reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you closer. “Come on, Psyke. Let’s get this over with.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline that always came before a mission like this. There was something about the anticipation, the knowledge that you were about to bring hell down on someone who deserved it, that made your blood sing. You lived for this, and you knew Ben did too.

Butcher gave the two of you one last hard look, then nodded. “Alright, you two lead the way. Hughie and I will be right behind you. And remember—quiet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, already moving toward the house. Ben was right beside you, his hand slipping away from yours as you both switched into mission mode.

You reached the back of the house first, the old habits kicking in as you moved silently, your steps careful and measured. The back door was locked, but that didn’t slow you down. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small device, one of those nifty little gadgets Frenchie had rigged up for you. You placed it against the lock, and within seconds, the door clicked open.

Ben shot you a grin as you stepped inside, and you returned it, feeling that familiar rush of excitement. The kitchen was dark, empty, but you could hear the faint hum of a television somewhere deeper in the house.

Swatto was here. And he was about to have a very, very bad night.

Ben was already moving toward the hallway, his movements smooth and confident. You followed him, your senses on high alert, ready for anything. The plan was simple enough—get in, corner Swatto, and make sure he didn’t leave the house alive.

The two of you moved like shadows, silent and lethal, the perfect predators. You reached the living room first, and there he was—Swatto, sitting on the couch, his back to you as he watched some mindless late-night infomercial. He hadn’t even noticed you yet. Stupid.

Ben paused, looking back at you with a grin that sent a thrill down your spine. You knew that look, knew what it meant. It was the look that said he was about to do something reckless, something that would probably piss Butcher off. And you couldn’t wait to see it.

Without a word, Ben took a step forward, and as if he sensed the movement, Swatto’s head snapped up. He turned, his eyes widening in shock when he saw the two of you standing there.

“Psyke. Soldier Boy,” Swatto spat your names, his voice full of venom.

Ben didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. He was across the room in a flash, grabbing Swatto by the collar and yanking him off the couch. The guy yelped, his wings flapping uselessly as he tried to get away, but Ben had him pinned in seconds, one massive hand around his throat.

“Miss us?” Ben growled, his voice dripping with menace.

Swatto struggled, his hands clawing at Ben’s arm, but it was no use. Ben was stronger, meaner, and right now, he was in the mood to make someone pay.

You took a step forward, your eyes locked on Swatto’s. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”

Swatto tried to say something, but Ben squeezed his throat tighter, cutting off his air. His wings buzzed frantically, but it was all just noise, useless and desperate.

Ben leaned in close, his voice low and deadly. “You’re not getting out of this, Swatto. You’re done.”

Swatto’s eyes darted to you, pleading, but you just stared back, cold and unfeeling. You’d seen too many people like him, too many cowards who thought they could get away with anything because they had power, because they were part of something bigger. But tonight, Swatto was learning the hard way that no one was untouchable. Not anymore.

You reached out for Ben’s hand, taking it off Swatto, but just when the slippery fuck thought he’d been let go, you grabbed him by the throat instead, your eyes gleaming with purple and slightly hollow with darkness. “Stop squirming.” His eyes turned the same colour, and he went limp, the only sounds from him his ragged gasps for air through your hand on his neck compressing his airway.

“Good boy.” You smirked, chuckling. “I’ll make this quick.” And with a casual flick of your wrist, Swatto was finished. You dropped him to the floor, to which he fell like a ragdoll. Good.

“Fuckin’ good work, sweetheart.” Ben sneered at Swatto’s body with a firm squeeze to your ass before patting it. “C’mon. Let’s go, Butcher and the kid are waiting outside.”

1943:

The small room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting a sickly yellow glow over the worn furniture and faded wallpaper. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and cheap cologne, mingling with the faint scent of smoke from a cigarette that had long since burned out in the ashtray on the bedside table. The bed creaked as you shifted, the black silk robe you wore clinging to your skin like a second, suffocating layer. You hated it, hated everything about this place, but you’d learned long ago that hate was useless here. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t stop the hands that groped and grabbed, the leers, or the demands.

You’d been "Heaven" for what felt like an eternity now, though it had only been a few months. The name was a cruel joke, a twisted reminder of everything you’d lost. Heaven was supposed to be pure, divine, untouchable. But here, Heaven was just another girl in a black silk robe, another plaything for the men who worked at Vought.

You heard the door creak open behind you, and you stiffened, bracing yourself for whatever would come next. They always came in without knocking, without a word, as if you weren’t even a person, just something they could use whenever they wanted. You kept your gaze fixed on the wall in front of you, focusing on the peeling wallpaper, the little details that let you pretend you were somewhere else.

But this time, something was different. The footsteps were heavier, more deliberate, and when the door clicked shut, you felt a presence in the room that was… different. You turned slowly, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up to see who had come for you this time.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a green silk kimono that looked almost out of place on someone like him. His hair was perfectly combed back, his jaw set in a way that made it clear he wasn’t here for pleasantries. His eyes—cold, green, and hard as stone—fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Soldier Boy. You’d heard stories about him, of course—who hadn’t? But seeing him in person, standing in your little room with its faded wallpaper and broken dreams, was something else entirely. You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you tried to find your voice.

“Sir,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he looked you over, taking in every detail. The robe, the way you sat on the edge of the bed, the way you tried to hide the tremble in your hands. “They call you Heaven, don’t they?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes downcast. “Yes, sir.”

“Bullshit name,” he muttered, his tone sharp. “What’s your real name?”

You hesitated, your mind racing. You hadn’t heard your real name in so long it almost felt foreign to you. But you knew better than to disobey someone like him. “I… I don’t remember, sir.”

He let out a low growl of frustration, crossing the room in two strides and grabbing your chin with one hand, forcing you to look up at him. His grip was firm, but not painful. Not yet. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You did as you were told, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was almost unbearable, like he could see right through you, like he knew everything that had been done to you, everything you’d become.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, his voice low, but with an edge that made it clear he wasn’t to be taken lightly. “I’m here to find out what the hell’s been going on.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I… I don’t understand, sir.”

He let go of your chin, taking a step back. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know what they’ve been doing to you. I just want to hear it from you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump in your throat. You didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to relive everything that had happened since they’d taken you. But you could tell from the look in his eyes that you didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t going to leave until he got what he came for.

“They… They make me…” You trailed off, your voice shaking. It was too hard to say it out loud, too hard to admit what you’d been reduced to.

“Spit it out,” he ordered, his patience wearing thin.

“They make me entertain the men,” you finally said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “They say it’s to keep them happy, to make sure they keep doing their jobs. But… But they… they’re not gentle, sir.”

There was a long pause, the air between you heavy with tension. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, just stood there, watching you with those cold, green eyes.

“I see,” he finally said, his voice low, almost a growl. He looked away for a moment, as if trying to collect himself. When he looked back at you, there was something different in his eyes, something darker. “And you let them?”

Your blood ran cold at his question, your heart sinking as you realized what he was implying. “I don’t… I don’t have a choice, sir. They… They said it was to pay off my father’s debt. They said if I didn’t do what they wanted, they’d… they’d hurt my family.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Fucking bastards.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. You’d cried too many times in this room, in front of men who didn’t care, men who only wanted one thing. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, too. “Please, sir… don’t make me talk about it anymore.”

He didn’t answer right away, just stood there, his gaze fixed on you like he was trying to make sense of it all. Finally, he shook his head, letting out a low, bitter laugh. “You don’t need to call me ‘sir.’ Name’s Ben. Get it right.”

You blinked, surprised. It felt strange, like he was trying to level with you, make things less formal. Less like the men who came into this room night after night. “Ben,” you repeated, the name feeling foreign on your tongue.

“Yeah, that’s better.” He seemed to soften a little, the hard edge in his voice fading. He took a seat on the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. “How long have they been doing this to you?”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. Time had lost all meaning in this place. Days, weeks, months—they all blurred together. But you knew you had to answer. “Since… since they brought me here. It feels like forever.”

He nodded slowly, like he was taking it all in, processing what you were telling him. “And no one’s tried to stop it? No one’s helped you?”

You shook your head, feeling a wave of despair wash over you. “No. They all just… they just use me, then leave. Like I’m nothing.”

His jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “That’s because they’re fucking cowards, every last one of them.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at the floor, feeling the weight of his words. He was right, of course. They were cowards, every one of them. But that didn’t change what had happened to you, what was still happening.

There was a long silence, and then Ben reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch was surprisingly gentle, and it made you flinch, not out of fear, but out of the sheer unfamiliarity of it. You weren’t used to gentleness. Not anymore.

“Listen,” he said, his voice low, almost soft. “I’m going to get you out of here. You don’t deserve this.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for any sign that he was lying, that this was just another cruel trick. But all you saw was determination, a kind of fierce protectiveness that made your heart ache with something you hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Because I don’t fucking stand by while scum like them ruin people’s lives,” he said, his voice rough but sincere. “And because you deserve better than this. Way fucking better.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes again, and this time you couldn’t stop them. You’d spent so long in this hell, so long believing that there was no way out, that you were trapped here forever. But now, here was this man—this soldier, this hero—telling you that you could be free.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the tears spilled over.

Ben let out a long sigh, squeezing your shoulder gently. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

You nodded, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “What… What do I have to do?”

“Just stay with me,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m going to get you into a trial for something that might give you a fighting chance. Compound V. It’s risky as hell, but it’s better than staying here and letting them break you.”

“Compound V?” you repeated, the name unfamiliar. You’d heard rumors, whispers about some kind of serum that gave people powers, made them stronger. But you never imagined you’d be a candidate for something like that.

Ben nodded, his expression serious. “It’s what made me what I am. What makes us Supes. It’s not easy, and it’s not safe, but… it’s a chance. A chance to be something more than what they’ve made you.”

You bit your lip, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. It was terrifying, the thought of going through something like that, of risking everything. But what choice did you have? Stay here and continue to be their plaything, or take the chance to become something more?

“I’ll do it,” you said, your voice steady despite the fear gnawing at your insides. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Ben nodded, his eyes locked on yours. “Good. We’ll get this started as soon as possible. And from now on, you call me Ben. No more of this ‘sir’ bullshit, got it?”

You nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Yes… Ben.”

“Damn right,” he said, and for the first time since he’d walked into your room, you saw a flicker of something almost like warmth in his eyes.

You didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if this Compound V would save you or destroy you. But you knew one thing: with Ben by your side, you had a chance. A real chance. And that was more than you’d had in a long time.

“Get some rest,” he said, standing up and heading for the door. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

You watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of fear and hope swirling in your chest. He paused at the door, looking back at you one last time.

“You’re not alone anymore, Heaven,” he said, his voice rough but sincere. “Remember that.”

The air in the small fitting room was thick with the scent of smoke and something else—something chemical and sharp that clung to the walls like an unwelcome guest. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, watching as the tailor adjusted the fabric of your new suit, the material shimmering under the fluorescent lights. The suit was a deep, vibrant purple, lined with silver accents that caught the light just right, and it felt like a second skin, hugging your curves in all the right places.

You couldn’t help but smile as you took in your reflection. It wasn’t just the suit that made you feel different; it was everything. The Compound V coursing through your veins had ignited something deep inside you, a newfound confidence that made you feel powerful. You turned this way and that, admiring how the suit moved with you, how it seemed to accentuate every line of your body.

From a nearby chair, Ben watched you intently, dressed in a black silk robe that hung loosely around his broad shoulders. He had a cigar perched between his fingers, the smoke curling into the air like a snake. His green eyes were locked onto you, an amused smirk playing on his lips as you struck poses in the mirror.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice rough and teasing. “A real fucking knockout. That suit’s gonna have every bastard in the room drooling over you.”

You shot him a playful glare through the mirror. “I’m not here to attract drooling idiots, Ben. I’m here to kick ass and take names.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, the cigar still resting against his lips. “Right, right. Ass-kicking first, then maybe a little drooling later. But you know how it is out there, right? Being a Supes comes with a lot of fucking bullshit.”

“Like what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow, genuinely curious. You knew some of the dark sides of being a Super, but you wanted to hear it from him.

He took a slow drag from his cigar, the smoke escaping in a lazy cloud. “First off, you gotta deal with the goddamn media. They’re gonna twist everything you do, make you look like the villain if you don’t play their game. And trust me, they don’t play nice. Then there’s the fans—half of them love you, the other half think you’re the Antichrist. It’s a hell of a ride, sweetheart.”

You nodded, taking in his words, but you couldn’t help but feel a thrill at the thought. You were going to be someone important, someone powerful. “I can handle it, Ben. I’m not some weak little thing anymore. I’ve got control now.”

His eyes lit up, and he leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued. “Oh yeah? How does it feel? Being all-powerful and shit?”

“It feels amazing,” you admitted, turning back to the mirror. You could see the flicker of a smile on your own face, a grin that was becoming harder to hide. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s like I’m finally awake, finally in charge of my own life. No more fucking around, no more letting others dictate what I do.”

“Goddamn right,” he said, his voice low and full of approval. “That’s the spirit. You’re gonna show those bastards who’s boss.”

You turned to face him fully, hands on your hips. “So, what’s it like for you? Being a Supes, I mean. You’ve been in this game a lot longer than I have.”

He took another drag of his cigar, letting the smoke curl around him as he considered his words. “It’s a fucking trip, I’ll tell you that. You get used to the perks pretty damn quick—money, fame, all that bullshit. But it comes at a cost. You’ve gotta stay on top, you’ve gotta keep proving you’re worth it.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure,” you said, tilting your head slightly, intrigued. “But you seem to thrive on it.”

“Pressure’s just another word for motivation,” he replied, a sly smile creeping across his face. “Besides, I’m not just some pretty face in a tight suit. I can back it up. I’ve taken down more assholes than I can count, and I plan to keep adding to that list.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, a rush of admiration mixed with something else—something electric that crackled between you. “I think I’ll enjoy backing it up, too. I’m not about to let anyone push me around again.”

Ben’s gaze locked onto yours, and the air felt charged, electric. “I like that about you. You’ve got fire. A real fucking spark. And trust me, you’ll need it out there.”

He leaned back in his chair, letting the cigar dangle from his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’ll be in the spotlight, and not everyone’s gonna like what they see. Some are gonna want to tear you down, but you’ve gotta stand tall. You’ve gotta show them you’re not afraid.”

You nodded, the weight of his words settling in. “I can do that. I’m ready for whatever comes my way.”

He stood up, the robe slipping slightly to reveal a hint of muscle underneath, and walked over to you, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Now, show me that confidence. Strut your stuff. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a thrill of excitement coursing through you as you turned back to the mirror, striking a pose like a model on a runway. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, rolling your hips slightly as you watched yourself, feeling the power within you surging.

“Now we’re talking!” Ben said, clapping his hands together in approval. “Look at you! That’s how you own a room. You’re gonna make heads turn when you walk in, and you better damn well enjoy it.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” you shot back, feeling the fire in your belly. This was what you had been waiting for, the chance to reclaim your life and make it your own.

As the tailor continued to fuss with the suit, you felt Ben’s presence behind you, his energy filling the room with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You glanced over your shoulder, catching him watching you with an appreciative gaze, and your heart raced. “You’re staring, you know.”

He smirked, leaning against the wall casually. “Can you blame me? You’re a fucking vision in that getup. You could walk out of here and take on the world right now.”

“Maybe I will,” you replied, your voice teasing. “I’ve got the suit, the powers, and the attitude. What more do I need?”

“Just me, of course,” he said with a wink. “I’m the cherry on top of this whole badass sundae.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “Yeah, right. You just want to take credit for all my hard work.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Hard work? This is all you, sweetheart. I’m just here for the fun parts.”

The tailor finished adjusting the last bit of fabric and stepped back, his eyes wide with admiration. “You look incredible. I think we’re done here.”

You turned to face him fully, spinning on your heel and striking another pose. “How’s this?”

“Perfect!” the tailor exclaimed, nodding vigorously before stepping out of the fitting room, leaving you and Ben alone once more.

“Now that’s how you do it,” Ben said, stepping closer, the space between you charged with energy. “You’re gonna be unstoppable, Psyke.”

“Psyke?” you echoed, a smirk on your lips. “Is that what you’re calling me now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice low and teasing. “You know, for someone who’s so confident, you sure are fun to tease.”

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you, a playful glint in your eye. “I can hold my own, Ben. Trust me.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in slightly, making your heart race. “But I’m still gonna have a little fun watching you figure this all out. Can’t wait to see you kick some ass.”

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks at his words, an intoxicating mix of excitement and something deeper—something that made you want to lean closer, to bridge the gap between you. “You’ll be right there with me, won’t you?”

“Always, sweetheart,” he said, and for a moment, the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you standing in that small room, the weight of the past lifting as something new sparked between you.

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[kamotecue]

part two: you fought for your love, you fought all the odds for her.

part one | part three

the moment you woke up, you looked around the familiar room. it was leah’s, you stayed the night over. it was simple, cuddling while watching movies. leah opted for horror, knowing you weren’t a fan. but you agreed as you knew she had a motive.

whenever there was a jump scare, you’d always hide your face in the crook of her neck, or you’d gently squeezed her bicep. she found it cute, who wouldn’t. the way your eyes would shut after a scary scene popped up, or how you’d exhale and inhale preparing yourself for a jump scare.

she was the only one who could see you like this, you were always so composed in front of the british media, the people and etc. however, she’s the only one who saw different sides of you. when you’d bake after she had a tiring day, the way your nose scrunches when you see something you dislike. how your eyes shines when you’d talk about astrology, how fascinated you are with the stars and constellations.

you took a glimpse at the sleeping blonde beside you, the way her chest rose everytime she inhaled and exhaled in her sleep. you always loved sleeping beside leah, it brought you comfort.

you brought your hand closer to her face, bringing the single strand of hair behind her ear, as she slowly opened her eyes.

“good mornin’ baby.” leah said, as you gave her a soft smile.

“morning lee.” you said, as she looked at your eyes, she would always get lost in them. those earthy brown eyes, the ones she fell in love with.

“can i kiss you?” leah asked, to which you chuckled to.

“i have morning breath, lee.” you said, as she chuckled. you didn’t want her to kiss you, especially when your breath smells bad.

“i don’t care.” she said, as she gently pulled you into a kiss. her arms wrapping them around your neck, making sure you won’t escape. usually, she’d respect your wishes, but you looked so kissable right now.

“you do realize what will happen now?” you asked, as you broke away from the kiss. as she rested her forehead against yours.

“you’ll be mine again?” leah asked, as you nodded.

“i was always yours lee, but i’m going to fight for us. something i should’ve done when you were still mine.” she gave you a soft smile, as your phone rang. it was scorpius, shit.

you answered the call, bringing it to your ears as you listened to him.

“my lady, you don’t have plans for today. however, will you be spending it with ms. williamson?”

you looked at leah who looked at you with a contented smile, she moved her right hand to your stomach as your shirt was ridden, exposing a small part of your stomach as she started to trace on it.

“we will be going to the palace, scorpius. can you prepare a car and pick us up later?”

“very well, my lady.”

the call had ended, as you gave a peck on lee’s lips before sitting up.

“are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, as you nodded.

“i don’t want you to slip away again, it was agony.” you said, as she nodded wrapping her arms around you.

“by the way, you look hot in my jersey love.” leah whispered as you flushed red. she snickered knowing how much she had an affect on you. you wore her arsenal jersey and one of her training shorts.

“let’s get ready, before i meet your dad.” as you agreed getting up, only to receive a smack on your ass.

“lee!” you yelled, as she gave you an innocent smile. you gave her a warning glare, as you opened the closet door with her consent, and picked up an outfit that’s suitable for you.

the trip to the palace was quiet, your right leg bouncing up and down as it was a sign that you were anxious. lee gently placed a hand on your thigh, which had calmed you.

the gates to the palace had opened, as the car arrived at the front door. one of the palace workers opened the car door, you were first to exit followed by leah. you had helped her, as she still had the brace on.

“will you be okay?” you asked, gesturing to her knee. she gave you a nod, as you entered the building walking to the conference room where your father was at.

“father.” you said, as he turned to look at you. his nostrils flared as he saw who you were with.

“what have i told you about seeing her?” your father yelled, as you jumped in surprised.

“you told me to stop seeing her, which is something i won’t be doing.” you said, “i’ve been living under your rules, what you claim what’s best for me, yet it isn’t. because when you told me to break up with lee, i refused to eat, to talk, to go out of my room.”

leah who didn’t know squeezed your hand for comfort to which you squeezed back.

“i love her dad, and i want you to support me. she’s what’s best for me, she is what brings out the best. i don’t want to lose her again over some trivial things.” you said, as he took a deep breath.

“is she? if you become a couple, she’d have to give up her football career, can she do that for you? can she handle the pressure of being queen when she’s never took any etiquette lessons.” your father had asked, as he looked at leah.

“with all do respect sir, i love your daughter. she’s the best thing that’s ever been mine. i can and will give up my football career for her, but know your daughter she wouldn’t want me to. she’d find a loophole, where she can be queen and where i can still be a footballer.” leah said

“you don’t know what it’s like, when she would rant about how all she wanted to be was the perfect heir for you, to make you happy, to finally be recognized in your eyes. you may not have been the best father, but she still loves you. all i’m asking is to respect your daughter’s wishes.” leah continued, as your father’s eye softened at her words.

“you have my blessing, leah williamson isn’t it? treat my daughter well, if you break her heart than there will be consequences.” your father said, as he turned to you.

“you chose well, your mother would be happy.” your father said, as a tear fell from your eyes. it was the first time he spoke about your mother, his wife after her death a few years ago.

“thank you dad.” you said, as leah gestured for you to go to him. you ran as he opened his arms, spinning you around like he used to do when you were little.

[seems like there will be a part 3, stay tuned]

[pricelessemotion]

sweet dreams, tennessee

summary: [4.5k] Upon visiting your grandma for the summer, you're greeted by more than one familiar face.

pairing: cowboy!steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: references to alcohol and death of a parent, childhood friends to lovers, slow burn (?)

series masterlist | navigation

Chapter One: Welcome home, Honeybee

An hour or so outside of Nashville is a town called Sweet Dreams, too small to show up on any map. The ones who want to make it out, bask in the irony. They say this town is exactly the place where dreams go to die. 

Most people who have the privilege of leaving Sweet Dreams don’t come back. They watch the dust kick up in the rear-view mirror and say good riddance. But you’re not like most people. 

You tip the taxi driver extra, even though he’s dropping you off at the edge of the property and you have to tug two suitcases and a backpack through a quarter mile of dusty road. The walk gives you time to think. Time to breathe. The air is different here, fresher. You can’t remember the last time you got to walk outside in the middle of the day and only have birdsong to keep your thoughts company. You’d thought that the vast emptiness would be a good change of scenery. You’d thought that the neverending din of the city was clogging up your brain, making your thoughts scramble like eggs in a hot skillet on Sunday. Now, they echo back to you, sung back in the form of mockingbirds. You don’t know if it's better. It’s just different. 

By the time you make it to the paved driveway, your arms are aching and there’s a current of sweat making its way down your back. You’re barely twenty feet from the door when Nana appears in the open front doorway. Upon catching sight of you, she’s barreling down the porch steps, holding her sun hat to the top of her head so that it doesn’t fly off. Dropping the handles of your bags, you allow the woman who basically raised you to engulf you in the best hug this side of the Mississippi. She smells like fresh soil, powdery perfume, and everything that’s good about the world. 

“You’re here! I told you that I’d pick you up at the airport! You didn’t have to call a cab,” She admonishes, before smacking kisses all over your face. “I missed you sweet pea.”

She looks older now, and the thought tugs at your chest. Her hair is more silver than anything and the lines around her eyes and mouth are deeper than in your memory. It’s only been a few years, but your grandmother wears an entire new lifetime lived without you on her face.

“I missed you too.” You let out a laugh but there’s a melancholy feeling to your words. You know that if you stir on them just a little bit more tears will start flowing out and never stop. You bury your face into the collar of her blouse, willing yourself not to cry.

“Well,” She says, taking a step back and putting her calloused hands on your shoulders. “Let me get a good look at you.” 

You smile, doing a little spin for her amusement. 

“Just like I thought. Even more gorgeous than the last time I saw you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks in response. You never quite knew how to take her constant compliments. Not only about your beauty, but your intelligence. 

“How’s your daddy doin’?” Her words are casual but her tone is clipped. Her lips curl in and she busies herself with brushing imaginary dust off your bare shoulders, looking at you like she’s trying to commit the sight to memory. 

You breathe out a sigh, “As good as he’s ever doing.” Which is usually not good, you think but don’t say. 

Nana only purses her lips, nodding in agreement. 

Both of you know that your dad hasn’t been the same since Mama died. Mama was a realist. That’s why she left Sweet Dreams in the first place. Your dad was a dreamer. Without your mom to anchor him to this world he was adrift. He was careless with what he had when he had it. Now, he doesn’t know what to do now that it’s gone. 

You fiddle with the strap of your backpack, feeling the weight of everything you brought with you digging into your shoulders. You should probably call him to let him know that you got here safely. 

“You must be exhausted after traveling,” Nana says, breaking you out of your reverie. “Let me just put my gardening stuff aside real quick, you can go ahead into the kitchen and I’ll fix you up something to eat.”

You nod and step inside the house, taking your baggage with you.

—

The fridge, or as Nana likes to call it the frigidaire, looks exactly the same as you remember it. Magnetic alphabet letters are used to hang up reminders and photos. She still has the same drawing that you gave her for Mother’s Day all those years ago, the crude crayon stick figures of the two of you standing side by side in a wide-open field. Now, there are signs of aging, the paper yellowed and curled at the edges. 

Aside from your childhood art, there are wedding announcements and Christmas cards a plenty. You recognize one of the faces. James wasn’t related to you but that didn’t matter. In Sweet Dreams, everyone was family. He was getting married to a woman named Elizabeth at the end of the summer. You can’t help but smile at the picture of him, his future wife, and his daughter. 

The last time you saw Winnie, James’ daughter, her mother had still been alive. The news of her untimely demise and James’ sudden status as not only a young widower but a single father had caused aftershocks that made their way all the way out to you in California. It was nice to see how happy the three of them looked together. You remind yourself to let Nana know that you want to see them soon. 

“Miss Mellie? I’m done with the car. There was something wrong with the fuel tank.” A man comes into the kitchen through the back door, dressed in a white tank top and blue jeans, wiping the grease from his hands with a rag.

He stops, eyeing you curiously. “You’re not Miss Mellie.” 

“I’m not,” You say, dropping your backpack onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table. 

Just then the screen on the kitchen door bursts open. The bottom has been busted for years and never repaired, for the benefit of the four-legged basset hound that’s bounding towards you. You light up at the sight of him, but your joy is cut short by the comment of the strange man who has yet to introduce himself.

“Careful. Jackson gets nervous around strangers.”

Jackson only pants in response to the man’s statement, gleefully sniffing your shoes before licking the exposed skin of your calves. 

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not a stranger.” You mutter leaning down to scratch the dog behind his ears. “You don’t have to tell me about my dog, I was there the day he was born.” 

Jackson was the runt of the litter. You had picked him out, seeing how he was weaker and smaller, being trampled over by his brothers and sisters. Your father had given you a funny look when you pointed at the weak little thing and said that one! The look quickly went away once Nana gave him a look of her own.

“No shit.” The man leans back on the counter with all of the comforts of someone who knows this house like the back of his hand. He puts down the greasy rag, running a now clean hand along the sharp line of his jaw, his expression a mixture of disbelief and recognition. 

“Now,” You huff, standing straight again much to the chagrin of the dog still panting at your feet. “Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing in my house?”

Your snippy attitude doesn’t seem to have the desired effect because he only looks right back at you with an easy smile. 

“Y’know, I’m a little offended that you don’t remember me, Honeybee.” 

Despite the heat of the Tennessee summer, you’re frozen. Only a handful of people have ever called you that. One of them bursts through the kitchen doors, holding a stack of mail in her hands. 

“Steven!” Nana exclaims, confirming your suspicions. “You all done with the car?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Oh please Steven, you know you don’t need to call me that.” Her tone is lightly scolding but from the curl of her lips, you can tell that she likes it. Nana has always been a stickler for good manners. “I see you’ve found my grandbaby. Isn’t she a beauty?”

His smirk only grows deeper as he tips his head. “Must run in the family.” 

She turns her attention to you. “You remember Steven, don’t you sweet pea? The truck was making a noise that was something awful. He offered to fix it up for me.” 

Steve looks decidedly bashful, shaking his head and casting his gaze down to the floor. “It was nothing.” 

Nana doesn’t even take into account his modesty, instead barreling through the rest of the conversation like she always does. It’s a wonder that she’s thrived in such a slow and peaceful town all her life when she constantly lives and talks at twice the speed of everyone around her. Everyone else is left trying desperately to keep up. “The two of you used to be thick as thieves, I swear. Could never find one without the other.” 

“I remember,” You murmur, only chancing a glance at the boy across the room who seems to have turned into a man overnight. You guess that’s what six years apart will get you.  

You remember Steve’s mother. She was a sweet woman when she wanted to be, if a little self-absorbed. Every summer they spent in Sweet Dreams her accent would fall into its natural rhythm and syncopation, annoying the hell out of Mr. Harrington. He always had a sneer on his face, screwed up like he had just taken a bite out of a lemon and was waiting for the sting to subside. He only showed up for the first and last week of the season, to usher his family in and out of his wife’s hometown. 

Steve always acted a bit tougher with his father around, puffed out his chest, and forced his voice to go deeper. You once pointed this out to him and he gave you a nasty look and told you that he had no idea what you were talking about. 

You apologized and Steve forgave you in the way that kids do, over brown lunch bag trading sessions, with plastic-wrapped treats being exchanged between sticky fingers. You never brought up his father again. For all of his father’s watchful eyes, his mother was the complete opposite. She was one of those people who believed that children shouldn’t be seen or heard. So, she pawned Steve off to the dusty streets of Sweet Dreams, knowing that whatever trouble he could possibly amount to was limited by the fact that the town was so small. 

But Sweet Dreams didn’t always feel so small. In fact, when you were a kid the entire world seemed only to exist in a twenty-mile radius. 

Steve clears his throat. “Well, if that’s everything I’ll go get cleaned up.” 

“Oh! Actually, could you be a dear and take the luggage that’s by the front door into the guest room?” Nana asks. 

Steve flashes an award-winning smile. “Anything for you, Miss Mellie.”

Nana shoos him out of the kitchen with promises of a good dinner and even more thanks. You’re still stuck on the fact that Steve Harrington is in Sweet Dreams and apparently has been for a while if the way your grandmother was interacting with him was any indication. 

“He’s staying in the old shed.” She explains, sensing your confusion. She’s already opening the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of iced tea that immediately starts sweating in the Tennessee heat. Your mind is stuck on the soft thudding of heavy footsteps on the wooden staircase. The sixth step still creaks after all this time. “Fixed it up and everything. It already had a bathroom and a waterline, so all he had to do was make it livable.”

You can only think of offering a hum in response, grabbing one of the floral glasses from the cabinet, and pouring yourself a cup. It tastes like home. 

“I’ve got you all set up in your Mama’s old room. Figured you’d like the sunlight. I pulled out the yellow bedspread, I remember that one being your favorite.”

Tears collect in your eyes. It’s been a while since anyone has paid attention to you long enough to remember anything insignificant about you. Nana collects every small detail like they’re precious, saving them for a rainy day so she can show you just how much you mean to her. 

“Thank you, Nana.” You manage to choke out. You want to say more. You want to give her an explanation for why you dropped everything and showed up at her door. You’re not ready for any of that. 

“Of course, darlin’.” She says simply, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “It’s good to have you home.” 

“It’s good to be home.”

—

Nana tells you to go upstairs and unpack–she purposefully set today aside for you to relax and unwind, knowing that you would probably be exhausted after traveling for so long. The reprieve is temporary, though. She’s assured you that the entire town has been informed of your stay and that her birthday party will also serve as a welcome home party for you.

Despite your insistence that you don’t want to take away the spotlight from her, she only winked and told you no one can take the spotlight from me, sweetie. Everything’s been prepared for the party tomorrow night. You’re already dreading the questions that you don’t have the answers to. 

You make your way upstairs, avoiding that creaky sixth step. The walk to the room is daunting. The bedroom door has been left slightly ajar, and rays of sun are peeking through the crack, the only source of light in the dark hallway. 

Taking a deep breath, you push the door open. It looks exactly as you remember it. The curtains are drawn, allowing the north-facing windows to showcase the wide-open fields and dusty roads that you know and love. 

The yellow bedspread is there, just like Nana said it would be. It’s sunbleached after so many years, but it still feels soft and comforting. 

Your mother’s painting is still in the same spot. Looking at it, you can tell it’s never been moved the way the corners of the wallpaper around it give it away. Anyone with a keen eye can see how the pale sage green walls were once deep and rich, having faded away like so many other things in Sweet Dreams do. By sitting right where it always was.

Taking a deep breath, you move to unpack everything. The drawers in the vanity are all empty, except the one in the very center. It’s locked, and despite your best efforts, remains that way. 

On the vanity, there’s an old picture frame. The photograph inside is of a memory you cannot believe you’d forgotten. You’re sitting cuddled up next to your mom. It was the day that you’d gotten Jackson, and he was so small you could still hold him in your little eight-year-old hands. 

You’d refrained from smiling for weeks at that point, utterly mortified at the gaps in your mouth from losing your two front teeth at the same time. In that moment, though, you were smiling so wide. Jackson had gone from sitting quietly in your lap, to jumping up to lick you on the chin. The shock and subsequent squeal of laughter had been captured and kept. 

You move the frame to the bedside table. It’s good to be home, you tell yourself. For the first time today, you’re not quite sure if you mean it.

—

“Is James coming tonight?” You ask in between bites of fresh strawberries and buttered toast.

The temperature in the kitchen is nothing less than sweltering. You’d been spoiled out in California, living near the bay and rarely having to worry about the weather climbing above seventy-five degrees. The room is in a state of organized chaos, with all of the food being prepared and cooked for the party. Nana stands at the back end of the kitchen, her back to you. She’s been up since the crack of dawn, placating your insistence to help her with food and conversation.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey. He called this morning. Winnie’s got a toothache and he and Betty decided to stay home with her. I know you were looking forward to seeing them.”

“It’s okay,” You assure her. “Just would’ve been nice to see a friendly face.” 

She turns the dough on the counter before folding it over and kneading it. There’s flour all up and down her forearms and most likely butter under her fingernails. “Steven’s coming,” She reminds you as if that fact is supposed to be reassuring.

“Right, of course.” You try to keep the apprehension out of your voice. “Steven.”

The truth is that you don’t know where you stand with him. You’d heard his voice from the top of the stairs last night, all full of polite regret that something had come up and he couldn’t attend dinner. The next sight you caught of him was his back as he rode off into the distance.

“He’s single, y’know,” Nana says, punching circles into the dough and setting them onto a baking tray. “He’s been working on the farm for about a year now. Real helpful.” 

You know the farm isn’t what it used to be. After the passing of your grandfather, a lot of the acreage was sliced up and sold off to neighboring farms. They give your Nana tiny cuts of the profit, something to do with southern hospitality and it being a widow’s homestead. She’s still gardening, though she probably shouldn’t given her old age. Trying to take gardening gloves from Nana Monroe is like trying to wrangle a wild horse. Still, Steve’s wage must be meager, all things considered. No wonder why he’s living in a shed. 

“Nana, I didn’t come here to date.”

“Well, what did you come here for?” She says, turning around and crossing her arms. Then, realizing the harshness of her words, she sighs. Dusting flour off of her palms and onto her worn apron, she rubs her thumb across your cheekbone. You can’t help but revel in the gesture. “You know I love having you around darlin’, but I know you didn’t decide to come spend the summer with your grandma just for kicks.”

The truth of the matter wasn’t easy. It was hard to swallow and tasted a lot like failure.

“I haven’t figured it out just yet, but when I do I’ll let you know.” 

—

Drinks have been poured, food has been served, and the birthday cake has been cut. It seems the entire population of Sweet Dreams has overtaken the living and dining rooms, and you wouldn’t be shocked if that ended up being the case. If you had to count the number of inane conversations where you repeated the same five facts about yourself to people who haven’t seen you since you were fifteen, you might combust.

Everyone assumes that just because you go to school in California, you must be living the high life. Beaches and parties and sunsets on the West Coast seemed like a dream to those who live and die in land-locked states, yearning for the smell of salt air and sand beneath their toes.

You know better. California does have all the glitz and glam and charm that they seem to think it does, but it also is an agricultural state. The cities that aren’t highly populated, with bustling nightlife and celebrity mansions, are mostly cow towns. You’ve seen these places while driving down the 5 highway. It doesn’t escape your notice that the exact places that remind you the most of home, are the same ones that people pass by in hopes of getting to somewhere better. They sit in their air-conditioned cars and breathe through their mouths, hoping to drown out the stench of cow manure. 

Never mind the fact that the curtains for your dorm were too sheer to block out the city lights, leaving you up for all hours of the night. Or the fact that, while you loved the beach, sometimes you longed for freshwater and mud between your toes rather than salt and sand. You still brought back pictures from when you and your friends decided to take a weekend trip, forking over small amounts of gas money and bartering meal plans in lieu of cash. The pictures spin a different story. One of a girl who knows what she’s doing and living her best life. Never mind that the thread being spun felt more like you were coming unraveled. 

The back porch has always been your refuge when parties get too loud and the temperature inside gets so hot that it seems like even the floral wallpaper has started wilting. You sneak out through the kitchen door, relieved that there’s no one there to catch you. Nana usually would have noticed your absence by now, but she’s distracted. Uncle Chuck brought out his acoustic guitar and your grandmother has never passed up an opportunity to perform for others. 

You sigh, taking one last bite of rhubarb pie before setting the paper plate down on the ground next to you. Testing the porch swing, you’re delighted to find that it’s still just as sturdy as ever. It used to be that you’d have to sit at the very edge of the seat in order to get it to swing without help, the tips of your sneakers barely grazing the ground. Now, you lean back and your feet are planted steady on the wooden planks below. 

You and Steve used to play pirates here, pretending that the sway of the swing was the rocking of the ocean against a mighty ship. You’ve never felt more unmoored.  

The screen door creaks as it swings open, and you brace yourself for Nana’s lilting voice, telling you to come inside and entertain guests. It doesn’t come. Instead, a deep timbre casts itself out into the night air. Despite the lingering warmth of the day’s heat and the lack of a night breeze, you feel goosebumps rise up on your arms. 

“Not having a good time?” Steve asks. His figure is backlit, bathed in the golden light of the kitchen.

“No, I am. Just–” You take a moment to think of an explanation that won’t give too much away. “Needed a breather, I guess.”

He hesitates. “Maybe I should go then.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been told I take people’s breath away.” 

You roll your eyes in annoyance, but you can barely hide the smile that tugs at your lips. “You are insufferable, Steve Harrington.”

The smirk on his face grows into a full-blown grin. “It’s one of my better qualities.” 

Steve sidles up next to you, hand wrapped around a beer. It’s amazing to think that the last time you saw him, the two of you would have to bend backward to sneak the bitter liquor out of the coolers without anyone noticing. Now, you’re both of age to where nobody blinks an eye. The thought makes your chest feel tight. 

“So why are you out here?”

“Do you mean why am I in Tennessee? Or why am I on the porch?”

He shrugs. “Either one.”

You shrug your shoulders, sitting back and letting your feet swing and scrape across the wooden floorboards of the porch. “I just felt like I needed to come back. Remind myself of some things I felt like I was forgetting.”

Steve nods like he gets it, and opens his mouth as if to say something but decides against it. What instead comes out is an olive branch. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you with the whole Jackson thing yesterday.” He offers sincerely. “And about missing dinner. I was so busy working on the car yesterday that I forgot I had to fix the Tillman’s chicken coop.”

You put on an air of faux contemplation. “I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.” 

“Thank god, I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.” He playfully puts his hand over his heart before letting it drop to his side, lingering in the limited space between you. “Took me a second to recognize you–you look so different.”

Steve looks different, too. Baby fat has melted away to reveal high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Once gangly limbs have filled out into broad shoulders and muscles that strain against the cotton of his t-shirt. He was always cute, you’d be remiss to pretend that he wasn’t. But the year in Sweet Dreams seems to have been treating him well because now he resides on this side of ruggedly handsome. 

“Good different or bad different?” There’s an underlying current of something in your question, but you’re not sure what. 

“Good different.” He casts a sidelong glance at you before looking out at the backyard, saying the next statement into the lip of his beer bottle. “Same bratty attitude though.” 

“Hey!” You squeal in mock offense, lightly smacking the back of your hand against his chest. The movement comes like a second nature, remnants from childhood squabbles. In the microseconds it takes for you to draw your hand away, you take notice of the solid mass of muscles hidden underneath his white t-shirt.

He’s full-on smirking now. “Nice to know some things never change.” 

“You’re one to talk,” You retort. He quirks a brow at you. “You’ve always been such a charmer. I’m pretty sure you’ve got the entire female population of Sweet Dreams wrapped around your finger.”

He gives you a meaningful look. “Not the entire female population.”

You have a sharp reply sitting at the tip of your tongue, pointing directly at Steve, when someone calls his name from inside. It’s Uncle Chuck, insisting that the man sitting next to you join him in a duet.

“Well,” He stands up, brushing his palms on his denim-clad legs. “I should probably head back inside.” 

You hum in acknowledgment, only ever so slightly disappointed, but make no move to leave your spot on the porch swing. “Don’t let me keep you.” 

Steve opens the screen door but props it open with his foot. The golden light from the kitchen is on his face now, and you can see the soft edges of the boy you once knew.

“Welcome home, honeybee,” He says simply, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

With that, he steps back inside and the screen door slams shut. You’re left alone on the back porch, breathless. 

—

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

taglist: @corrodedseraphine

[a-mel0n]

This stupid "Your Name" Bucktommy AU won't leave my brain, and while I don't have enough faith in my writing skills to actually write the damn thing (and it would be my first fanfic... ever?? and that's a project that seems a bit too big for me lmao), I DID write down what I'm picturing some of the "rules" Buck and Tommy have for each other while in the other's body. Mostly just for fun. (Because Tommy would be switching in 2006, the iPhone does not exist yet, so all of his notes are written in an actual physical journal. All of Buck's notes would be on the Notes app of his phone)

TOMMY: 1) Evan, stop running into burning buildings when you don’t have to while in my body. If I wake up in a hospital bed for the fifth time this month, I might actually lose it.

its part of the job to save as many ppl as possible. also u don’t even feel the pain when i get injured in ur body.

You’re right, I don’t. Unfortunately, the pain from having a wooden beam fall on you doesn't just magically go away when we swap. Just... be more careful? Please?

fine. i’ll try and keep ur hospital visits to a minimum.

2) Can you stop flirting with people on calls? Or at the very least give them your number and not mine? In the last week alone my contact list has nearly doubled because you keep giving people my number. 

dude its not my fault you’re more popular while i’m you. just think of it as me being ur wingman! how u dont have a girlfriend is beyond me btw. hot chicks love firefighters and ur a good looking dude

Jesus Christ, Evan. For the last time, I’m single by choice.

3) Don’t shower while in my body

already dont

4) Don’t go to the bathroom while in my body 

done

5) In fact, unless you’re at work, don’t change any of my clothes while in my body. 

fair

6) Do you really need to spend so much of my paychecks on cooking supplies? I have enough pots and pans already. 

whats the point of a pantry if its half empty. be thankful ur getting actual food now via my leftovers instead of the utter tragedy that was the state of ur fridge when we first started swapping places.

7) Don’t make a scene while at work. 

your boss sucks ass and his stupid orders are going to get people killed. im not gonna listen to him if hes making bad calls while lives are on the line

Evan.

8) Don’t pick up the phone when my dad calls.

got it

BUCK: 1) quit going to eddie’s basketball pickup games. he keeps inviting me while i’m in my own body and its getting harder and harder to come up with excuses as to why i can’t go. it's kinda awkward.

I thought you’d be more grateful, Evan. You’re the coolest guy on the court when I’m you. 

2) are you making movie references when ur me? bc chim keeps asking when i got so “cultured” and the other day maddie asked when i watched the princess bride. 

You haven’t seen the Princess Bride? I’m leaving you a surprise for tomorrow. Check your couch when you wake up. 

did you spend my OWN money on a dvd??? i don’t even own a dvd player. i own every streaming service imaginable.

3) keep the finger guns to a minimum?? idk why you do them so much but both hen and chim have said smth abt it

4) if u get a call from someone called connor or kameron on my phone just let it go to voicemail its personal stuff and i'll deal with it

Evan, you could have told me you agreed to be a sperm donor yourself. Finding out because Connor and Kameron showed up at the fire house was more of a shock than finding out over these memos would have been. 

they did what?????

5) don’t talk to my parents

Done.

6) No rule about undressing? 

dude idc. i’m not gonna stop you from taking a piss in my body if u need to. as long as you like. don’t have sex with someone while you’re me? oh wait hang on i DO have a rule about undressing

7) DON’T HAVE ANY RANDOM HOOK UPS IN MY BODY. 

Wasn’t planning on it, but good to know. 

[yiiyiiwrites]

Set it up

Summary: JJ and his older sister [Missy] hustling and arguing, mentions of older brother. [Sibling masterlist]

“Just take the shot, J.”

JJ adjusted his grip on the cue stick, gaze trained on his target. He ignored his older sister’s nudge, his mind having no space to think of anything else than pocketing the last pool ball.

Releasing a breath, JJ pulled back and took the shot, sending it into its designated spot. He straightened up, the cue stick rolling across the faded green pool table.

He downed the rest of his now warm beer, gaze following the glass as Missy spoke to the man he’d just beat. It’s watered down at best, mostly full of ice cubes and barely giving a kick of alcohol. Everything about the bar is worn down including the people drinking in it. The type of place he’d wipe his boots on the way out.

JJ couldn’t help, but slam his glass on the bar. Missy’s hand dropping from the guys arm, smile faltering before she continued the conversation with him. He can’t stomach much more, his head nudging to the exit and for her to hurry up.

The sticky, hot heat hitting him as soon as he’s outside. JJ leant against the splintered exterior, hands shoved in his pocket and boots kicking at the gravel.

Missy doesn’t waste anytime, not indulging in the guys offer to give her a lift home or go back to his place. She’s not far from JJ as she squeezed through the gap of the door before it slammed behind her.

JJ peeled himself away from the wall. “You know when you asked me to pick you up from work, I didn’t think I’d be the one making the money Sis.” He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t slow down for her to keep up.

Missy shrugged, her fingers flicking through the corners of the cash she’d just collected. Too focused on counting each one to give him a reply.

The late evening work at the local dive bar kept Missy afloat, but it was only every now and then. She did what she did best and flirted for tips. Well that and bet her money on who could win at darts or pool. Most guys too drunk to take the games seriously and welcome the attention of a pretty girl.

Pocketing the wad of cash, she ran to catch up with JJ latching a hand around his arm. “You’re mad?”

Laughing JJ shakes her off him, “are you serious? Last thing I wanna do is watch you flirt with some random ass dude.” He shivers at the thought, trying not to think about the sleaze ball talking to her.

“You have no problem taking the money off me though?” She held out of half of the earnings, waiting for him to take the bite. Soften the blow for whatever he was going to say.

“That’s because I won it,” JJ hesitated, eyes flicking to her face and outstretched hand. He snatched his half and shoved it in his pocket mumbling a string of curse words.

“I set it up though, started the game and you finished.” Like all Maybanks they knew how to hustle, the only rule of knowing one’s opponent and how to make a clean get away with no complications.

“You know who you sound like, dad.” JJ regretted the words as soon as they rolled off his tongue, the scowl on her face telling enough that he’d hurt her.

He remembered being a kid, sat near the bar whilst their dad drank and played darts. Could never quite get rid of the smell of smoke or the cheap aftershave that was used to mask the stench.

“Take that back.” Missy shoved JJ, repeating herself again as she tried to him push once more.

He dodged her attack and stepped to the side, hands raised in surrender. “My bad, my bad,” he said nodding his head or more of trying to sort through his thoughts for what to say. “Should not have said that.”

“Wow, J. Do you ever say sorry?” She knows he didn’t mean it, but the cut still stings and it’s opening up the wound, itching her brain and asking herself if she really is like him. One of them had to be like their dad, it definitely wasn’t Bobby.

“I’m just sorry I didn’t bring your horse that go with those boots.” JJ smirked and pointed the worn leather cowboy boots Missy had worn everyday since she’d found them at the thrift store.

“You’re such a dick, J.” She said pinching his side, smile tugging her lips as he tried to run. “Let’s go home.”

[abbysbraids]

Head over heels part 2

Note: this isn’t my best writing but I have to the people what they want , should I add smut in the next part ???

Days after meeting the girls of your dreams you couldn’t stop thinking about her , you needed to see her again your , how could you fall for her not even knowing her name , how could you find her ?

Deciding to take action you get up from bed to find her maybe she’s close to you ? Picking the clothes off the floor and put on some and heading out the door , heading to the coffee shop until you notice her siting in the cafe, can’t help but admire her she’s the most gorgeous woman you’ve seen , she saw you admiring her , a small smerk appear slowly getting up to approach you “ hi pretty girl “ shes so much hotter than you remember looking at her muscles you just want to bite them “ hi remember me “ feeling a boost of confidence “ of course I do how could forget a girl like you “ you feel yourself blushing hard putting your hand in you face in embarrassment “ don’t hide from me sweetheart it’s cute when you get embarrassed “

feeing your shyness take over you

“ what’s you name or should I just call you princess “

“ it’s y/n how about you “ you say

“Abby “ saying it with a sultry voice feeling your knew almost buckle

“ can I have your number “ holy shit did she just ask for you number you could faint “ yeah sure here “

Picking up a random paper and writing your number and handing it to her , watching as her big hands grab the paper it looks small in her hands , she chuckled noticing you stare at her hand “ something on your mind there princess” you snap out of it immediately “ no sorry I just can’t help it , your so fucking hot “ her checks get red laughing in a nerdy cute laugh “thanks y/n I appreciate it “ you smile hard your already in head over heels for her “ how about a library date tomorrow 7 you free? “ hearing her exited squeal makes your heart happy “ I would love too” she smiled showing a bit of her teeth “ how about we get some ice cream “ she says in a confidence voice “ let’s go abby “

you just walk and talk about your life , you found out her dad died at the age 17 she meant the world to him “ shit I’m so sorry Abby you shouldn’t have to go through that “

“ thank you , you know he would have loved you , you kinda reminded me of him “ you stop walking to hug her , leaning her chin on your shoulders kissing her cheek “ he would be so proud of you “ you can see a tear form in her eyes , wiping it always “ he told me that a lot , made sure I never forgot it I’m such a loser for crying I’m sorry “

Inviting her into your embrace not wanting to let her go “ it’s okay silly I love that about you , your so open about your feelings, how about we go to my place I’ll make you some tea and we can chat how does that sound abs”

she chuckled lightly “ amazing let’s go where your place “ waking for a short time you made it your place its a nice apartment , talking your keys out to open your door , guiding Abby to head inside, she looks around eye wide “ it’s so beautiful wow “

“ thanks i decarcerated it myself , sit down I’m gonna grab some snacks “

Hanging her jacket on you front door , you end up falling asleep on the couch she gets a blanket and cover you up wondering how lucky she is to have Meet you .

Playlist🎀

Pink+white-Frank ocean

In the morning- rocco

A big brown dog named bagel-Nep

Moon song -pheobe bridegers

Bags -clairo

( you) on my arms - leith Ross

Kingston-Faye Webster

Beautiful stranger- laufey

20191009 I like her - mac demarco