#what to do with frozen cranberries

[trashmouth-richie]

master list

Eddie x fem! reader

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️

Absolutely no minors, gtfo. Hopefully everyone has read the warning post from earlier this week regarding this chapter. it is extremely dark themed.

Heavy violence

References to past rape/ assault

Blood, gore

Domestic violence

Somnaphilia

Character death etc

A/N: please know your limits. I love you and let’s get into this chapter so we can move on.

The brown popcorn bag spun lazily in the microwave like an oily inflating balloon. The steady hum of the appliance kept you company as the countdown to the sad supper ticked to an end. The cheerful ding springing you from the staring contest you were having with the counter top. 

  The small radio you had purchased was sitting on the counter, the soft belt of Linger by The Cranberries was playing for what seemed like the tenth time today and you couldn’t help but feel the lyrics in your blood. 

  Unaware of anything out of the ordinary. A typical night after working at the bar. Showering and throwing on a pair of pajama shorts, tucked next to the pair of Eddie’s boxer briefs you had found last week. 

  After investigating why the washer banged all to hell when even the smallest of loads were in it, wedged tight under the plastic agitator were his underwear. 

  And you’d be a fool to say you hadn’t broken down and sobbed in the basement on the discovery. 

  You dried them and folded them neatly next to your delicates. The same drawer that held the worn and tarnished pig ring he gave you as a Christmas gift, and the envelope full of cash. 

  The water works started again. 

  Hot tears flooding your eyes, the simple act made you feel like he was home with you. But the nightmare always continued.

  You missed him so much. 

  “But you always really knew

I just want to be with you

  If you were a tiny bit more awake you might have caught that the door to the garage was locked even though you had no memory of locking it yourself. 

  ..And I'm in so deep

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

  Rustling the steaming bag from the microwave with burnt finger tips, you toss it on the counter hastily. Sucking your fingers into your mouth to dull the stinging redness away.

  Do you have to let it linger?

  And maybe it was then that if you weren’t busy nursing the premature burns, you would have noticed the odd set of keys on the counter next to the mail, pushed to the side by the buttery bag of popcorn. 

  Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?

  Bending at the waist to the lower cabinet you reach around for the smooth plastic of the yellow popcorn bowl. Upon standing you feel dizzy. You hear it before you feel it, the loud thwap of something heavy against the back of your head. The pain is searing and turns your vision to black. You’re passed out before your head even hits the floor. 

  (1987)

  The November air whipped into reddened skin, striking out any heat you had left in the confinements of the peach sweater you borrowed from Nancy on your frozen walk to Forest Hills Trailer Park. 

  It happened again. 

  And this time it wasn’t an accident, no matter how much he begged, no matter how many times he said he was sorry. 

  He hit you with a closed fist. 

  You weren’t flirting with Dustin. He was your friend. Way before Chad had taken any interest in you. Most of your friends were guys, besides El and Max, and even though Nancy Wheeler was older and more popular— you considered her a friend too. 

  When she left for college this past fall, she insisted on making her room more stylish to your liking. And she never once minded the twin beds you both slept in, a night stand between them. 

  But when Mike sat next to you at lunch and was going over notes from Kensington’s class, Chad’s mind twisted it into Mike hitting on you. Which led to Chad hitting on you, but instead of compliments and doting behavior— he drug you out to his car, a bony grip on the back of your neck.

  He screamed at you with every vein protruding from his tan skin. Voice hoarse and throat stretched tight. 

  Apparently you were fucking people behind his back. Even though you were a virgin. The town whore! He had yelled loud for even some of the teachers to hear, all turning a blind eye to the obvious domestic abuse happening on school grounds. 

  Explaining yourself only made it worse. 

  He slapped your face hard when you opened your mouth to interrupt him. And when you stood your ground and raised your chin to him, calm and steadily telling him to go fuck himself, he swung a fist into your eye. 

  And that’s when you left. 

  His apologies trailing behind you and caught in the gut of wind to travel far away from your ears. He wouldn’t follow you, he had appearances at school to keep up. 

  Much easier to tell Aaron and Sean that you got your period and were being crazy then explain why he had left school.

  The gravel crunched beneath your feet, frozen from the last winter storm and holding pockets of ice amongst the rocks. 

  Pale blue and still holding the old television lawn ornament, you sighed audible when Eddie’s van was parked outside of the aluminum sided trailer. 

  You hadn’t seen him since graduation last May. The night Chrissy’s extra curricular activities with Rick finally came out when they were caught fucking in the shower upstairs, at Steve’s house. Both sporting pricked arms with needle marks. 

  A broken hearted Eddie drank all night long and puked into the hot tub.

  Your quickened steps up to the concrete stairs and a shaky broken knock on the screen door have you stepping back waiting for the door to open, awaiting Eddie’s stupid grin waiting on the other side. 

-

  Living with Eddie you had no reason to be afraid. Many nights the front door was left unlocked. And maybe it was out of habit. Maybe you had left it unlatched tonight too. 

  It would explain how he was there now. 

  Hovering over you, his blond hair coined perfectly slicked to the side, slightly feathered back with thick styling gel. A Ralph Lauren polo with the logo on the left chest. His cologne reeked of some designer brand, making your stomach queasy.

  The only difference between those years ago and now was that he had a small dusting of a flesh colored mustache wiggled on his sweaty lip. Same maniacal inky blacks to his blown pupils, laced with the piercing blue. 

  The realization ices your veins and stings your eyes with angry tears. 

  Chad Cunningham was in your home, his body over yours as you're pinned beneath him, the smell of iron invading your nose. Looking around with wild eyes you see the crimson streaks from the linoleum in the kitchen to the carpet where you are laying. Your head thumping with the rhythm of bloody drops against the fibers of the worm carpet.

  “Been a long time hasn’t it, honey bun?” 

  An eternity wouldn’t have been enough. 

  Pressing his body into yours, you can feel the stiffness of his starched shirt as you try to will your arms to fight him away. He chuckles at your feeble attempts to push him off.

  His weight presses deeper into you as he lowers his mouth to your lips, squeezing your face he almost sings,  “Told you I’d see you soon.” 

  His lips are harshly planted into yours, feeling like jagged rocks against your soft waters.

  “Fuck,” he groans, hard against your thigh. “just like I remember. I’ve missed you.” 

  The clink of his belt unthreading from the loops of his khakis finally renders your senses. But you wait with calculated timing. 

  Leaning back, he stares into your face with a quizzical expression burrowed deep on his brow. “What’s the frown for? Don’t you miss me? Aren’t you happy to see me?” 

  Evident that his delusions still ran deep, it’s showtime. You would survive this. One good hit, that's all it would take. 

  Pushing yourself up gently, your head is swimming with nausea and the steady dripping tick of blood down the back of your neck. 

  Placing a shaky hand to his cheek he moves into your hand, the same way Eddie had that night, your stomach somersaults at the memory. 

  When his eyes shut, you turn your fingers into a clawed position, and scrape the flesh from the corner of his eye down to his lip. 

  It happens quickly and with your blurred vision and pounding head it feels like it’s all in slow motion. He wasn’t expecting it. 

  A kick to his ribs hurt your bare feet probably more than it injured him but you needed the extra time to escape into your room. 

  The phone feels cool against your cheek, and weighs heavy on your shoulder when you realize it’s dead. The plan of you running in here, dialing 9-1-1 and holding him off until they came was foiled. 

  “BITCH! You can’t hide from me!” 

  Knowing you only have seconds before he finds you, you 

frantically look around for something to defend yourself with. Searching eyes land on the window. 

  Just need to get out and run to Mr. Griffin’s house. 

  Fingers on the frame you yank upwards, palms digging into the wired screen, pushing it out.

  Throwing your leg out into the darkness of the night, you’re one step closer to being safe. One step closer to ending this night of horrors before it could begin. 

  The noise of splintering wood and the crack of a door being snapped from its hinges join your erratic breath and piercing screams— a monstrous reel of symphonic sound. 

  Chad twists a thick fist into your scalp, freeing the hair from its follicles in a sickening pop as you scratch your nails into the window sill, trying to hold on.

  He’s stronger than you, no different than years before. And when your body crumbles onto the floor with a squelching thud, splinters of lacquered wood and nails that once held the door in place, pierce into your exposed skin. 

  But that is minor league compared to the shattering pain delivered from his fist into your face as he straddles you.

  “Think you can hide away with that freak from me?!” He rocks his closed hand into your other cheek, this time clipping your eye with a gold wedding band.  

  Your cries fall on deaf ears. Tears stinging and trying to drip from your swelling eyelids. 

  “Honey bun,” he purrs into your ear, “don’t tell me you’re that fucking stupid to think I wouldn’t find you.”

  His fingers move to brush your hair from your face, and he holds your head in place when you try to bite at his fingers. 

  His wicked smile could make the devil’s scaly skin crawl. 

  “Such a dumb whore, forgetting I have eyes and ears all over this town.” Placing his grabby fingers on his breasts, he continues, “Aaron and Sean may not be the brightest candles on the cake but they are loyal.” 

  Aaron…Sean. 

  You rack your brain for any recollection of those names.  and it finally clicks. Chad’s friends in high school, following him around like he was the King. A snap of his fingers and they’d move like henchmen. Fighting anyone who got in his way, putting themselves at risk just to say they had a friend from a rich family. 

  The realization swims in your eyes and scares your tears dry. 

  “No.”

  “Pieced it together huh?” Chad laughs wildly. “They work..” he grunts, hips rutting against you, pinching your perked nipples in his tight grasp, his fingernails digging through your shirt around the delicate skin, making you squeal, “..with the freak!” 

  His deranged cackle doubles when you yell out in pain. 

  “Small town bosses don’t lock their offices, and it was too easy for Aaron to find your address, even easier to find out that Eddie had left your ass here, unguarded, alone, waiting for someone to save you, and honey bun here I am!” 

  His sick twisted smile oozes fear further into your gut, brooding and feeding on any small amount of joy you had left. 

  “You need a fucking psychiatrist.”

  “Such harsh words for that sweet mouth, but don’t worry!” he reassures, eyes wide with delight and a psychotic expression on his face as he brings his voice low and secret-like, “I won’t kill you yet, the boys are looking for Munson and when they find him…” he lowers himself to kiss your lips, sliding his tongue against the split flesh. 

  “Fuck!” He bellows, licking his lips savoring your taste on his tongue, “when they find him they’re gonna bring him here, and it’ll be arranged to look like the freak killed you and then himself.. a lover’s quarrel gone bad.” 

  He rubs his face and grunts again at the warbled wails you let out, squeezing your breasts and bucking into your clothed crotch. “Goddamn,” he groans, his eyes rolling into his head at the sound of your cries, getting off on your distorted face, “I just couldn’t help myself, had to come here and do this first. One last goodbye.”

  You’d rather be dead at this point. You wish he’d kill you now and get it over with. But the thought of Eddie seeing your lifeless body haunted you. And you stop crying when his hands close around the hollow of your throat. 

  “Gonna be mine, one last time honeybun?”

  “Fuck you,” you croak beneath his hands on your throat.

  You’re weak and running out of time. Rolling your tongue against your teeth and cheeks, harboring a mixture of saliva and blood you wait until Chad is leaning over you, and when he’s close enough you spit the concoction into his face.

  Chad bellers out, letting go of your throat and standing abruptly to wipe his face. The split second he’s distracted you try to crawl away, but he kicks you down. 

  Delivering several soccer styled strikes into your stomach, his voice spewing insults with every jab of his white Nikes into your body.

  A raging shock of fury paints his face.

  “What did I tell you hmm? If I can’t have you— no one can!” You scream loud when his shoe propels into your crotch, shocking your pelvis with burning heat. 

  All noise is void when he rolls you over and crashes down on your beaten body, clobbering your tear and blood streaked face, blow after blow.  Your eyes are swelling shut and you’re surprised when you see Eddie’s face, before your eyes shut. 

  It feels like home. 

  -1987-

  The warm smile you missed so much was not there to greet you. A cold calloused “what?” finds you instead. 

  “Eddie?” you ask with a scratchy throat, clearing it once, twice, to answer him against the wind. 

  Grumbling and stomping in the trailer is heard. Along with two separate giggles. 

  The door is yanked hard inward revealing a version of Eddie Munson you’d never seen before. His skin was sunken in on his cheeks, dark circles rimmed his eyes. His once soft features were sharp and lackluster, brooding with ashy shadows and skin that looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in months. 

  He looked gaunt and hallowed out, his ribs poking against the cindery color of his skin. The warm whiskey eyes that once danced when he laughed were now gaping blacked marbled, polar and dull. 

  He speaks but you are too busy holding your breath from the stench of rotting clothes and unwashed bodies. 

  Stumbling over an apology for not hearing him, you are startled when he barks back,  “I said, what the fuck are you doing here, Tooty?” 

  You look to the floor and notice he’s wearing a heavily stained sock with a hole in the toe, the other foot bare, next to a pair of work boots are three pairs of women’s shoes:, heels, keds, and pink reeboks. Your toes wiggle in your worn converse. 

  “I’m.. I uh..” 

  Eddie rolls his eyes, “oh for fucks sake spit it out! You selling raffle tickets or something for school? Pep team need new Pom-poms? Or maybe the chess club is looking for a new board?” 

  Shock stealing your speech you stand on frigid feet digging your fingers into the yarn on the Nancy’s sweater. Tears bite your lashes and fall on cold cheeks. 

  Eddie! Where’s your lighter? A sultry voice coos, padding feet getting closer to the threshold. 

  “Listen kid, I’m fucking busy, I don’t have time to haul you around because twiddle dick and dum forgot you at the gas station again.” 

  He has barely looked at you since you got there. The guy who held more merit to you than your own brother was gone. 

  When you wipe your eyes on the sleeve of your sweater  he lets out an exaggerated groan. 

  He thrusts dirty fingers into his sweatpants pockets. Pulling out a perfectly rolled twenty dollar bill, he flattens it smooth. He smears his finger along the length of the bill, collecting remnants of a fine white powder, which is quickly shoved into his greedy mouth and rubbed on his gums like he’s brushing his teeth. 

  “Here,” he grunts, shoving the drugged money into your pocket, avoiding your eyes at all cost, “now get lost.” 

  The blinds on the door are still swinging as you stand there dumbstruck and watery eyed. Low voices are murmured through the thin walls as a lighter flicks and sizzles.

  Who was that baby? 

  Nobody. 

  And that’s exactly who you were to everyone you knew, nobody. 

  And ironically enough— that’s exactly who you could rely on. 

  One thing was for certain: Eddie Munson was a stranger to you. 

  The tears fell harder on the shameful walk back to Chad. But you weren’t sure if you were crying harder because of the sudden loss you felt from an old friend or because of the pain in your eye.  

-

  Heart hammering in his chest, Eddie jiggles the door handle, it’s locked and he panics and realizes he still has his key. Fumbling with the key ring, Eddie finds the short brass one and unlocks the door. 

  The sight of the mostly empty house is jarring, causing his stomach to drop , a small recliner rests in the living room where his couch once sat. Wine is spilled from the kitchen to the living room, smeared like it was swept poorly with a mop. 

  You never drank wine.

  Maybe you started drinking heavily after he left. He did. It only made sense. 

But a second glance at the claret colored stain embedded into the carpet and his worst fear was realized. 

  Blood.

  The sound of something wet and thwacking settles into his bones and shakes his spine. Someone was hurting you.

  Heavy docs lead him to the corner of the house, your room and his old room. Where his door was intact, yours was shattered. Like Jack Torrance took his ax to it in The Shining. Stepping on cracked wood, Eddie sees the most horrific thing he’s ever been a witness too. 

  And suddenly he’s six years old again, helpless. Watching a woman he loved lose a battle she didn’t even know she was in. But instead of his mother’s lifeless body crumbled by his father’s feet, instead of her dark curly hair matted with pooling blood and a gaping bullet hole— It’s you underneath a guy he doesn’t recognize.

  Your face is battered and covered in blood, the once plush lips he held so warmly between his own were split and slack. Your eyes were swollen, lacking any shine to them they normally held. 

  His eyes connect with yours for a brief second, and when they close he doesn’t know if they will open again. 

  Fury radiates through his entire body, masking the pain of heartache at the sight of you slipping from him. 

  Before he can acknowledge the thought of you being gone, he lunges at the catalog Dad dressed asshole. Knocking him off your body and landing on top of him, colliding into your dresser. The tangle of body parts wrestling for purchase tumble into the hall. Ringed fists land home on every surface of this guy's face, and when he stops to take a breath— he realizes the face he is hitting is Chad Cunningham’s.

  How did he find you? Had he been stalking you both since that day at the grocery store?

  Didn’t matter all that he cared about was throwing this mother fucker the biggest ass kicking of his life, and he wouldn’t stop until either Chad or himself was dead.

  “I’ve waited years for this day,” Chad spit, after getting a punch in when Eddie was in his own head, knocking Eddie’s jaw to bite down on his tongue, filling his mouth with blood immediately. “Trailer trash Munson finally came to play.”

  Taken by surprise, Chad shoves Eddie from him and stands up, looking through the doorway at your limp body. 

  Eddie stands slow, using the bathroom doorknob to help, he reaches for the knife kept in his back pocket. 

  Chad spins to face Eddie, his hair sweaty and face ballooning out from Eddie’s rings. “You should have left my girl alone Munson, would have saved your uncle the heartache.”

  Eddie flicks the blade open on the knife, grip tight around it, he breathes through his nose his throat tight and stretching around his words, his leather jacket creaking when he moves his neck around in a stretch, confident in his delivery, “she’s not yours.” 

  The hysterical laugh that leaves Chad’s lungs could resemble bats screeching in the night, he’d make a great clown in a haunted house. 

  “Dead or alive whether I’m married or not— she’ll always be mine.”

  Like alley cats, they stare each other down, waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

  Chad licks his lips and looks your way again, “listen, I get it, she’s hot. And that tight little pussy..” he licks his lips and grabs himself over his denim jeans, stained with your blood.

  Eddie’s blood is boiling, he’s seconds away from snapping but trying to hold it together long enough to make a perfect attack.

  Chad leans forward, gesturing a mockery secret with his hand held around his mouth, “It’s even better when she’s fighting you,” he inhales deep, like he’s wishing he was in a past memory, “screaming really tightens her right up.”

  Knife out, Eddie charges forward. And is struck dumb when the knife is kicked from his hand. Another kick this time to the chest that he wasn’t expecting sends him stumbling into the living room, air gone from his lungs. Chad follows and swings into his diaphragm making Eddie choke out on nothing, gasping for air. 

  “Oh come on, Munson,” Chad taunted, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s cheek, “Thought you would have some trailer park moves to throw at me.”

  Raising a heavy boot, Eddie stomps on Chad’s toes, and mule kicks his kneecaps. A ringed fist meets his cheek, adding another forming bruise to his winter tan skin. Shoving him backwards into the counter in the kitchen, the cabinet doors bust on the impact. 

  The punches Eddie is landing have his knuckles bloody and swelling but he doesn’t care. Each punch is a testament for the years you held yourself together, acted like nothing bad was going on, when in reality you were experiencing hell on Earth and he never knew. 

  This was his payback. His way of righting a wrong. A wrong that should have never even began.

  He doesn’t know what he was hit with just that he was stumbling backwards again. Temple throbbing and without reaching up he knows he’s bleeding. His back hitting the corner of the fridge he slides down onto the linoleum.

  His head is heavy and his vision blinded with hazy clouds of black and white. He hears Chad but doesn’t see him, just feels his head being slammed in the fridge and a grip in his hair. 

  “Could have saved your uncle funeral costs you stupid bastard… clearly you don’t care about him, or Tooty for that matter, leaving her all alone like that,” Chad sucks through his teeth, splitting blood onto Eddie’s shirt, “thought the raccoons usually stuck together.”

  He chuckles low and slams Eddie’s head one more time with such force it leaves a dent in the fridge. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says, straightening his shirt, walking towards your room , “my girl is waiting.”

  “Don’t touch her!” Eddie roars, pushing himself up to stand with all his might. Pounding head and nausea thick in his mouth. Raising his head he looks at Chad with blurry sight, trying to see clearly. His voice is low, catching his breath and taking all of his strength to utter out the words. Balancing around the mark of deranged, “I’ll fucking kill you.”  

  Chad swivels on his heels, head cocked at Eddie, he grabs under his chin holding it firmly in place. His breath fanning over Eddie’s cheeks and he smiles maniacally, blood painting his teeth. 

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” A heavy fist to the gut has Eddie doubled over. Gripping the counter with white knuckles and wet blood smeared fingertips. 

  He had failed again. He wasn’t able to stop his own father from killing his mother. And now Chad was on his way to desecrate your lifeless body. He’s a fuck up and a failure. 

  Always. 

  A low guttural choking sound breeches Eddie’s ears. And he turns to see you covered in your own blood, barely standing and wielding a bat with nails protruding from every which way. 

  The nails are claret colored and dripping thick drops onto the carpet, fibers of Chad’s jeans hang in shreds from the sharp edges. A scant look towards Eddie and your eyes swim with relief and mourning. 

  He’s here. Blood is smeared down his lips and his hands look tight and swollen. 

  But he’s alive. And so are you.

  Eddie’s vision is doubled and he blinks rapidly unaware if he is seeing you or not. He swallows hard and almost chokes on tears.

  But that is short lived.

  And it happens fast. 

  The yelling rage from Chad’s lungs over power your screams. His hands are tight around your throat before you can blink, your spine snapping into the nearest wall, feet dangling off the ground. 

  Haziness bleeds into your eyes and your breath is expelled from screaming— now gone when your windpipe is crushing like a pixie stick under Chad’s grip. 

  Desperate to fight back you jam your thumbs into his eyes. Victor Creel style like the Urban Legends passed down that you were told as kids. 

  If you were going to die, at least he would be blind, a forever reminder of this day etched, literally, into his face. 

  You prayed Eddie would know how much you loved him.  

  Should have’s taking over the last puffs of oxygen in your brain, popping like bubbles. 

  Should have told him sooner. 

  Should have said it every day. 

  Should have kissed him more. 

  Should have let him love you. 

  The guilt wraps around your mind as the cold hands of death welcome you. But you’re not afraid. Knowing Chad always kept good on his word, Eddie would join you in the afterlife.

  Hand in hand. 

  Strolling along the pinked cotton candy clouds and the pearly gates. 

  You are his and he is yours. 

  Lovers together finally at last. 

  The last breath on your lips is a silent devotion to him. 

  I love you, Eddie.

-

a/n: my asks are always open ♥️

[biteofcherry]

to find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; power imbalance; forced relationship; D/s undertones; public humiliation; groping; dirty talk

I did warn you this Steve is dark 😜

word count: 4k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

5. Breaking ice 

~ * ~ 

You’ve never been more annoyed with a sunny day and warm lightness filling your bones than you felt the day after the apothecary incident. Extra bounce to your step as the sun stroked your face and corners of your lips threatening to curl up irked you immensely. 

Every other minute you tried to force yourself into a stormy mood.

Into an expected reaction to what has happened.

You faced direct danger, witnessed people being killed in cold blood, you were trapped in a relationship with a fucking mobster, who - on top of it all - screwed your body and mind in a most wicked, deranged way.

You shouldn’t be feeling cheery. That reaction was inadequate to the situation and to the moral norms you thought you possessed. 

Either Rogers had that strong of an impact that you quickly bent to his dark whims, or the spine you thought you had always been a noodle not a steel rod. 

How otherwise explain the fact repulsion at his manhandling transformed into thrill and arousal? 

Last night, when you finally went to bed after taking a thorough scrubbing shower (and crunching a few cranberry pills to pray the UTI away), the images of being fucked with a gun resurfaced in a colorful burst. 

The crystalline blue frozen in ice of Steve’s irises, the soft pink of his lips inches away from yours, the black of the gun against your floral dress. 

It made you sticky instead of sick. 

You had some knowledge of the psychological aspects to rough sex fantasies, or bdsm preferences, even consensual non-consent role play; but they all were considered normal when consented and previously explored. 

You did not give Steve your verbal consent. Yet you didn’t exactly fight him. Convincing yourself it was because he had a gun and could kill you with it fell poorly since your pussy clenched at the memory of the barrel against your skin. 

What has your life become - cranberry pills and getting wet from being violated.

You were angry, yes, but not at what you should be. Your annoyance with Rogers was peaking, but the true resentment wasn’t only toward his actions. It was directed at yourself for not being outraged by what happened. 

When the next day at work Natalie asked you about the meeting, you gave her the short version - a trap being set up and Rogers coming to save you. The part about coming all over his gun was left unspoken.

You told yourself it’s to spare yourself further humiliation, but a part of you simply feared you’d get turned on thinking about it again. 

Really, that should be a topic to pick at a therapy session, but you couldn’t do that either. You had enough common sense to know going to a psychotherapist was out of the question, not with the man who was about to become your husband. You couldn’t tell all the truth in a session (to not risk a therapist’s life) and going there only to lie and omit had no sense. 

So you decided to channel everything onto the job. 

Focusing on work meant not allowing your thoughts to roam around Steve fucking Rogers, as well not giving your body reasons to stir with arousal. 

You caught up on paperwork, made a few phone calls - including those less important, just to occupy yourself; you visited the new speech therapist in their office. Being busy enhanced the sense of lightness, which you preferred to read as having no space to overthink and stress, instead of wondering if getting debauched was the sole cause of your serenity. 

However, the lull of denial burst the moment Natalie came into your office with lunch.

Lunch you didn’t order, and a couple trailing behind her with creepily bright smiles on their faces. 

“Miss Leigh Parrish and Mister Elias Asher are here for you.” Natalie informed you, professional as always, though you noticed the barely constrained eye roll. “And they brought you lunch, apparently.”

“What?” You looked at the set of neat three boxes with delicious looking food then at Natalie and at the pair behind her. 

The two walked in with confidence, as if they were about to take over your office. The woman, Leigh, had a pad in her hand and a huge binder under her other arm. The man held some small kind of measure tape and a little blue notebook. 

If they were some new donors, or a company who wanted to start a program with your health center, they sure were the very first to start negotiations this way. Usually you were invited to lunch, not have it brought. People meeting you were also more reserved and polite, instead of barging in with some wacky energy. 

“Lunch is from Mister Rogers, we’re just delivering since we were going to be here anyway,” said Leigh, her toothpaste-commercial grin not changing for a second.

Instantly your mood dropped, your eyebrows creasing into a hostile frown. 

“And why are you here?” Your tone remained calm, but you made sure displeasure in it was audible. 

Steve randomly buying you lunch was a worrying problem you stored to resolve later; though you had a feeling he wouldn’t care that these nice gestures annoyed you, as they clashed with the picture of a ruthless mobster you were adamant on hating forever. 

The two cheery people coming in unannounced - at the direction of Steve, undoubtedly - became the aim of your irritation and distrust. 

“To help you plan your wedding, of course.” They both beamed in unison and you almost groaned at how overtly sweet the woman’s tone has become. 

“Mr Rogers mentioned you’re fighting nerves, which is absolutely understandable,” Leigh cooed and your fingers twitched, ready to reach for something to throw it at her. “Planning a wedding can be stressful, especially an impromptu one. But that’s why I’m here! I’m the best wedding planner in the city and I’ll make sure it surpasses all your dreams.”

Your reluctance toward the wedding wasn’t something you hid from Rogers. Quite the opposite, you announced it any chance you had; within limits of reason, to avoid being disposed of.

Him sending in an actual wedding planner was a move you did not expect. At all. 

You’d sooner anticipate him dragging you in your pajamas in front of a forced registrar to get it over with. 

Ah, but that would be too easy. Not enough torment for you. Not enough room for you to show how obedient of a wife you’d be. 

We both know you will be a good girl for me, Princess, his voice resounded in your head, a decadent richness that softened your limbs for a split of a second before your resistance kicked in. 

Having you organize the wedding, or at least actively participate in it, was a lesson - that you would follow his orders even if you hated them.  

“The best wedding planner in the city has a free slot to organize a wedding in a month?” You arched a single eyebrow, studying the woman. “What skeletons are in your closet that my fiance managed to blackmail you?”

You didn’t doubt she was one of the best, but those had their schedules booked for three years in advance. To have her clear it for you meant there was more than just money at stake for Miss Leigh Parrish. 

Her smile faltered for a second, but she regained her composure fast. She ignored your question, walking instead toward your desk and placing her huge binder on it. 

“Since we have the venue covered, with Mr Rogers estate being more than enough to host the event,” she went on, “there are only details to talk over. Let’s start with the wedding rings, so that Elias can begin working on them right away.”

Her companion stepped forward. The tiny measuring tape in his hand now made sense, as it apparently was to measure the circumference of your finger to match a ring size.

“Let’s start-” you interrupted, pushing your chair back- “with you leaving my office.”

Interesting how you managed to maintain your poised self, professionally cool as you delivered the polite fuck you, while that composure quickly dissolved around Rogers. 

You kinda stepped on eggshells around him at first (and still, sensing when the crossing line was too near), but then his demands lit your fuse. Somehow you dared to stomp your foot, be loud in your outbursts and acts of rebellion. And it wasn’t because Steve provided safe space, oh no. He was far from safe. 

“What?” The man blinked, confused, while his friend blanched.

“We have to get it done. As soon as possible.” Still trying to sound sweet and soft, Leigh made the mistake of allowing a tremble to shake her voice. 

“Then get it done, I don’t really care.” You shrugged.

It was the truth. You didn’t care for the ceremony at all. 

You had a brief thought about hating it, if it was some overused boho or retro theme in a barn, but then again you would hate it anyway, since you didn’t want to marry Steve. Besides, it could be funny to see his face if someone told him to wear suspenders and a flat cap for aesthetics.

“You, um, you don’t want to participate in preparations for your own wedding?” Leigh frowned, utterly surprised. “Not even pick a dress?” 

“I can wear a t-shirt and flip-flops for all I care.” You probably wouldn’t go that far, but you really didn’t care. 

If Rogers didn’t order you to wear a wedding dress, you’d do it anyway just to please your parents who were going to be completely oblivious to the truth behind your speedy wedding. You preferred to keep it that way, playing someone so dumbly in love she was ready to marry a few weeks after meeting the guy. You didn’t want to worry your parents.  

Natalie snorted at your words, for the very first time so openly showing amusement. She even grinned when you glared at her, then turned on her heel and walked outside.

“The, um, the wedding rings?” Elias cleared his throat.

“Barbed wire would be fitting,” you snorted under your breath, but he didn’t seem to hear it. You suspected he might’ve fainted if he did. 

“Whatever Mister Rogers wishes,” you shrugged. “As a matter of fact, why don't you go and consult with him?” 

To underline that you were done with this whole shit-show, you opened one of the lunchboxes and dug a fork into it. You didn’t lift up your eyes from the delicious food until you heard the door closing.   

You ate your lunch while idly browsing the internet, just to get your thoughts off the wedding completely. It was approaching with each passing day and you preferred not to accept the fact. 

Though you weren’t sure denial would work once there was an actual ring on your finger. 

It seemed it wouldn’t work even before that, because not a half hour after you dismissed the wedding planner the door to your office opened with impetus.

Steve strode inside, a force of a thousand storms contained in a man’s body. 

His heavy boots and the hem of his tight jeans seemed to be freshly stained with something wet and dark. The rest of him was perfectly clean, not a smudge of dirt on his hands. You tried not to think of blood splashing on his shoes and legs as a lifeless victim fell at Steve's feet.

You definitely tried to ignore a wave of heat that washed over you at the thought. 

You forced your eyes to stay on the devil’s angelic face, drowning in the hues of blue, so that your gaze wouldn’t slide across Steve’s body in search of a gun holster. 

“Princess.” Steve sighed, but there was an undertone of amusement in his voice. 

He walked toward you with purposeful steps; his mass seemingly changing the gravity inside your office, so that all light fractured to disappear in his approaching darkness. 

Or maybe it was your attention discarding anything in your peripheral to focus on him, as if he was the center of your world. 

You abruptly stood up and shuffled back instinctively, bumping into a bureau. Steve caged you against it, blocking any route of escape with his arms on both sides of you. It was only then that you tilted your chin up, tapping into the remnants of your steel defiance.

“Why am I hearing that you’re scaring off the wedding team?” Steve tilted his head to the side and chuckled. “They’re here to take the planning burden off your shoulders, so that you can focus on your work. And your future role…”

You swore that if he said anything about wifely duties, you’d kick him.

“I told them they can plan whatever they want. As long as they do it far away from me,” your mocking sweet smile combined with your sneer. 

Perhaps your tone provoked it, or maybe a challenging fire in your eyes, but Steve’s lips curved into a wolfish grin. 

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, “look at your cute yip, yet there’s no real bite to it.” 

It was very dangerous to do anything to antagonize Rogers, especially when he was this close and could snap your neck with his bare hands, but you acted before a reasonable thought settled in.

You opened your mouth and caught his thumb between your teeth, clenching your jaw enough to cause pain, but not drawing blood.

Steve’s eyes hardened, the blue of his irises darkening. Time froze for a split second; you could almost hear the ice cracking beneath your feet and the murky depths awaiting to swallow your dead body. 

Suddenly your eyes widened, when instead of backhanding you, Steve pushed his thumb further between your lips.

Your teeth released their grip, his digit easing into your mouth and pressing against your tongue. Saliva pooled around it and you instinctively hollowed your cheeks. 

Twisted satisfaction igniting in his eyes and the subtle thrust of his thumb along your tongue stirred you from stupor. Scorching shame filled you to the roots, though you hoped it didn’t show. 

You pulled back, turning your face away from Steve as you swallowed remnants of his taste. He tilted your chin with his wet thumb, forcing you to look him in the eye again. What the fuck was with this man and maintaining eye contact? 

“Let’s get it over with, shall we?” He smoothed a hand down your arm and wrapped his fingers around your wrists. 

Next thing you knew Steve was calling for Elias Asher, as he stretched your arm out; thumb pressing into your palm to make your fingers stretch. 

Elias stumbled inside and almost tripped over his own feet at the sight the two of you displayed - you pressed against the bureau with Rogers’ intimidating size looming over you, your hand offered on a silver platter. 

“You mentioned you need measurements for the ring size,” Steve intoned conversationally, “do what you must.”

You glared daggers at Steve, which he accepted unbothered. The jeweler’s fingers didn’t shake as he wrapped a small measuring tape around your finger and wrote down the result in his notebook. However, all the while he was staring either at your finger or his notes, never up at either of you.

That way it was easier to pretend the scene before him wasn’t close to intimate, or that he didn’t suspect you were being forced into marriage.

“What type of metal?” His voice wavered slightly. 

“White gold,” came Steve’s decided reply. 

Something told you that while he was giving you free will to organize the wedding however you liked, Steve had already chosen how your permanent shackle looks like. 

You peeked at his hand, gaze sliding across the rings adorning his thick fingers. You noticed there was none on the finger on which a wedding band is worn. He was going to make sure that your rings matched the set he was already wearing.   

“Pure and fierce, like my fiancée.” Steve added, with a mocking tilt. 

“And the cut?” Elias scribbled down, not lifting his eyes at either of you even once.

Steve’s eyes sparked mischievously. His right hand moved up your thigh, squeezing your thick flesh through the fabric of your skirt.

“Cushion?” Steve mused aloud.

Then his touch moved upwards, along your ribcage and ghosting over the swell of your breast. 

“Round?” He cupped your tit indecently, causing you to gasp in outrage that he dared to do it in front of someone. 

That he dared to do it at all!

“No. We know which suits you best, right?” Steve’s hand ventured north, brushing your collarbone before his fingers curled around the front of your neck. 

“A princess cut.” 

Ringed fingers wrapped around your throat loosely, but it was a firm enough gesture to boil your blood and weaken your knees. 

You couldn’t blame it on the fear of being strangled, because not a single thought about it entered your mind when Steve did that. Neither when he did it the first time, in his kitchen, nor now. 

What you thought about was the power he spread over you and how it melted your resolve into an obedient puddle. Against all reason. 

Unable to look away from Steve, you didn’t notice the jeweler leaving your office in a hurry, undoubtedly ready to drink away what he tried not to witness. You didn’t even hear the door close, your ears were filled with the sound of your own heart pounding in a quickened rhythm as Steve’s hold on you continued. 

Slowly (it seemed reluctant, too), Steve loosened his grip. He didn’t move it away, though, shifting it only slightly, so his hand splayed like a necklace above your sternum. 

You took a shaky breath in, cogs in your brain starting to turn anew. 

“Why can’t we just sign the papers without this wedding party fuss?” You asked quietly, gaze shifting from Steve’s hold on your hand to his face. 

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before he let go of it and took a step away from you. He swiped a hand over his mouth then gave you a blank, almost condescending look.

“Because I need everyone convinced I’m here after your cute ass, Princess. Blind with love or lust, or whatever people want to believe in,” he winked at you, as if you were supposed to agree with his cynical assessment.

You thought quite the opposite. That no one sane would believe Steve Fucking Rogers was interested in you. 

“Who would even believe that?” You snorted, frowning.

It wasn’t about insecurities of any kind; you were mildly confident both in your looks and your worth. However, men like Rogers didn’t even circle around women of your kind. 

Men of power; men who rode the thin line of morality, mostly treading through the dark side; they went for women who craved such things. Women who suited that lifestyle. Women rotten at the core, or greedy (whether for wealth, or for power and influence). Or at least for women who looked really fucking good on their arms, like models and escorts. 

No one, none of Steve’s rivals surely, would believe that he was simply courting you. You beside him made zero sense.

Steve laughed. Actually laughed. A warm, sparkling burst of amusement that made his handsome face gain impossible boyish charm. 

“That a man got addicted to a sweet pussy?” He looked down at you, still grinning. But that grin transformed into a sly curve. 

“Everyone, Princess.” He leaned closer, again; voice nearly purring as his lips brushed your cheek. “I can assure you that even at this moment they’re thinking I’m balls deep inside you.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that rocked your body. Judging by the way Steve’s eyes dragged down and up your frame, he noticed your reaction. 

“I’m kinda thinking about it, too.” He licked his lips, drawing your hungry attention to them.

But the ire at his crude words snapped you out of daze. Your fingers curled in a fist and you pounded it against Steve’s chest when he pressed his weight into you.

“In your dreams!” You hissed.

Your small fist made no real impact against Steve’s hard chest. It didn’t deter him and it seemed he didn’t even feel any pain from the hit. 

His hands returned to your body, boldly gripping your hips and holding you in place as he licked along your jaw. He flicked your earlobe with his tongue - a lewd tease that should disgust you, but instead made your pussy tingle.  

“I’m dreaming of our wedding night.” Steve whispered before pulling away with a low chuckle at your wheeze.

“There will be no wedding night!” You pounded two of your fists against his chest. Futilely.

Steve regarded you with a look one may give to a small kitten trying to appear intimidating toward a wolf fifty times its size.

“I’ll make you a deal, Princess,” he tucked both thumbs beneath the hem of your blouse, his touch nearly scorching against your skin. 

“On our wedding night, if I touch your sweet pussy and it’s dry, I’ll let you pick a bedroom for your own. So you can live in solitude, unbothered by my presence.” He sounded sincere, like it was a business deal he was really willing to propose.

Then his hips were pressing against yours, bulge in his pants prominent as he rocked it into you. Steve’s eyes flashed a dark gleam; his sensual lips parting enough to reveal a row of sharp teeth ready to take a hefty bite.

“But if I find your cunt leaking, as I know it is now-” his deep growl resonated straight to your clit.

“I’ll take a pound of flesh. And I’ll be taking you over and over and over again, until you lose your voice from screaming my name.” 

You clutched at his shirt where your hands rested on his chest. You wanted to be able to shove him away, to punch away the beam of smug victory off Steve’s face. Reasonably, you knew you couldn’t do that without serious repercussions happening. 

You were also too busy with the inner battle, fighting some fucked up, primal need to have Steve do to you exactly what he threatened. 

The bastard was unfortunately right, you were soaked. Something you’d never admit to him.

Even if he pushed his big hand up your skirt and dipped his fingers straight into your dripping cunt, you’d deny it to his face. You’d deny it to yourself. Forever. 

Thankfully, Rogers didn’t push further. He seemed satisfied with his stupid bet and that you didn’t fight back (even if you kept your mouth closed in fear of releasing a whimper). Steve let go of you, only lifting one hand to cup your chin.

“Now be good, Princess,” he commanded. “I don’t have time to deal with hysterical wedding planners.”

You grimaced - eyebrows drawing in a frown, nose scrunching up. You weren’t interested in dealing with wedding planning either, but you were aware Steve considered the topic closed. If you reopened it, he might do more than just bend you into obedience in front of a stranger.

“Then why did you come here?” You asked instead.

“I came for my distressed fiancée,” Steve’s grin was cheeky as he used his grip on your chin to slightly shake your head.

He squeezed a tad tighter and when your lips puckered he pecked them. 

“You’ll get a big girl kiss when you start acting like one,” he added at your indignant glare. 

Then released you and simply turned around to leave. You cursed him and called him names in your head. You prayed that one day you’ll get reckless enough to throw something at him, consequences be damned. For now, you still liked to be alive. 

[goldribboncottage]

Hazel Callahan Fanfiction, Part 2

Continuation of the first part! Hazel and reader go to the bar. Again I do not know how to use tumblr so I don’t know how to like make a link for the first part but it’s on my page. Enjoy!!! I think the next part is aalllll Hazel POV.

You haven’t seen Hazel all day. You had planned to ask her about a ride as soon as you saw her, but you weren’t even sure she was in town, let alone the house. You entered the screening room, resolving to stay home and use Hazel’s absence as an excuse. Your night would consist of you, a giant bowl of popcorn, and cheesy romcoms. Instead you find her, bundled up in one of the giant recliners, an 80s movie playing. 

“Oh- hey! Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here. I can go.” 

“No, no” She sits up. “Stay. I’ve seen this a million times. I can go.”

“Have you been in here all day?”

“Um, yeah, actually. I was the one who wanted to turn this room into a screening room. It was just an unfinished basement when we moved in. It’s usually where I hang out.” She explained. 

“Oh. That’s really cool! I was actually looking for you earlier- my friends are going out tonight and I wondered if you’d give me a ride?” You felt awkward asking a near stranger this “Well actually I guess, your friends, you’ve known them longer. Brittany and PJ? And some other girls too? I promised B I would go, and she wants you there too. They all do. We all do” 

Hazel smiles, laughing at your discomfort. You didn’t notice her dimples yesterday but they’re on full display now. 

“Yeah, I’ll drive you, but you have to give me that popcorn. House rules” She jumps up and grabs and handful. 

“No wait! It has peanut M&Ms! Are you allergic? Oh god please don’t be allergic.” 

“Y/N. Chill. No allergies here. I’m a big girl. You’re my sisters nanny, not mine.” She smirks, taking an M&M and catching it in her mouth. “So when is this thing? Do I have time to finish my movie? Or do you want to start a new one?” 

“You can finish it, I’m gonna go get ready. Meet me at the front door at 8?”

“Yeah” She bows awkwardly at you, presenting you to the door. You laugh at her and leave, heading upstairs to get ready. 

You were so fucked. You didn’t know this girl existed a few days ago, and now you’re basically drooling over her dancing at the bar. 

Hazel looked good. Really good. She wore straight leg leather pants and an oversized green sweater tonight, her hair fluffy and flying wildly as she jumped around. 

When she greeted you at the door earlier you were thrown off by how attractive she was. God, she looked good. She played music you had never heard but enjoyed on the drive over. You didn’t talk but she glanced over at you a couple times. You didn’t know what she thought of you yet. Hazel was hard to read, but she seemed friendly.

The air is heavy at Bottoms tonight. The lights shine purple-pink on the dance floor and light up Hazel’s laughing face. You caught yourself staring again and turned around in your stool, ordering another vodka cranberry. It was going to be difficult to shake off this feeling and keep things professional. PJ slides up next to you and tries out another pick up line. 

“Hey Y/N, is it hot in here or is it just you?” She wiggles her eyebrows and smirks. 

“It’s definitely you PJ, I’ve been waiting so long for this to happen.” You slide out of your stool and step closer to her. “I can’t believe tonight’s the night I finally realized” 

She’s frozen where she stands, looking terrified. “Realized… what?”

“That you’ve got absolutely no game, and I’m surprised you still try.” You brushed past her and went to join your friends on the dance floor. 

Brittany smiles and wraps you in a hug. Isabel and Josie were dancing together near the group but clearly in their own world. Hazel nods in greeting, going back to dancing. 

Her dancing style was definitely different than anything you had ever seen. She looked so comfortable with herself yet her movements were awkward. Snapping her fingers, bopping her head. Somehow she made it work though. It was endearing. 

Isabel had managed to wander off and bring back green tea shots for the group. Hazel looked starstruck when you made eye contact with her as you took yours. It was your fifth, maybe sixth drink of the night. It had been a while since you’d gone out and sleep regression with the babies made a rough work week for you. 

Feeling bolder, or maybe just drunker, you grabbed Hazel’s hand and started to move with her. She seemed uncomfortable at first so you dropped it, but she quickly picked it back up and showed you how to do her little dances. It was silly. You danced the night away, drinking and laughing with your friends. 

At least that’s what you remember. Hazel tells you a different story when you wake up the next morning. 

[doctorbunny]

A rough translation of the MILRAM x Karatez Karaoke drinks menu

MILGRAM x Karatez (karaoke no tetsujin) Special Collaboration Menu Open from Tuesday 1st August to Monday 18th September 2023 In stores at Omekaido Overbridge, Shinjuku (新宿大ガード), Dogenzaka, Shibuya (渋谷道玄坂) Sakuragicho (桜木町) and Funabashi (船橋). All standard drinks ¥660 (tax included) [aproximately $4.61 or £3.62] Takeout OK, non-alcoholic. *The tax rate differs depending on the service *Photographs and actual products may differ

Drinks:

Es:

Kiwi syrup

Blue Curacao​ syrup

Hyaluronic acid jelly

Blood orange syrup

Ginger ale

Vanilla ice cream

Silver dragee (gold coloured)

Haruka:

Blue Curacao​ syrup

Cranberry syrup

Frozen strawberry

Yuno:

Strawberry tapioca

Hot milk

Whipped cream

Fuuta:

Grenadine syrup​

Iced tea

Pocky stick

Muu:

Yuzu and honey syrup

CC Lemon [a brand of lemon soft drink]

Whipped cream

Bee honey

Shidou:

Butterfly Pea Syrup

Hyaluronic acid jelly

White water

Lime slice

Mahiru:

Blood Orange syrup

Pineapple juice

Orange juice

Wild berry syrup

Berries

Kazui:

Blue Curacao​ syrup

Soda

Cola

Star shaped Nata de Coco [aka coconut gel] (blue)

Amane:

Blue Curacao​ syrup

Cranberry sryup

Grapefruit juice

Lemon slice

Mikoto:

Energy drink [energy concentrated]

Grapeade

Blue Curacao​ syrup

Grape jelly

Ramune syrup

Soda

Pocky stick

Kotoko:

Hyaluronic acid jelly

Grapeade

Grenadine syrup

Soda

Berries

Each order of a collaboration drink comes with a gift of one of eleven original drinks coasters! (the one you get is random) *Please note you will not be able to pick which design you get *Once the special benefits are gone, the distribution will end.

Special Drink:

The Prisoner Drink: 880 yen (with tax) [aprox. £4.83 or $6.14] Take out OK, non alcoholic

Coffee Jelly

Vanilla Syrup

Cow's milk

Whipped Cream

Coffee An order of one special drink gets you one of ten prisoner interrogation cards (sized 86mm x 54mm) Prisoners' collab exclusive question and answer!

Interrogation Card Prisoner 001: Haruka Q: What memories of karaoke do you have? Answer

*Please note you will not be able to pick which design you get *Once the special benefit supplies run out, the distribution will end. *The tax rate differs depending on the service *Photographs and actual products may differ

MILGRAM x Karatez (karaoke no tetsujin) Special Collaboration Set Open from Tuesday 1st August to Monday 18th September 2023 At the Omekaido Overbridge, Shinjuku (新宿大ガード) store The Prison Guard Recruitment Set - ¥2,200 (tax included) [$15.35 or £12.07] *If you rent a karaoke room, it will be charged separately *The tax rate differs depending on the service *Discounts cannot be used. *As soon as supplies run out, we stop accepting orders for the set menu. *Photographs and actual products may differ

Set: 1x Collab Drink 1x Original Coaster Size: 90mm x 90mm *Please note you will not be able to pick which design you get

1x Acrylic cocktail mixer Size: 47mm x 193mm *Please note you will not be able to pick which design you get

1x Foil Stamped Postcards Size: 148mm x 100mm *Please note you will not be able to pick which design you get

表 = front 裏 = opposite site *Shared design elements

MILGRAM x Karatez (karaoke no tetsujin) Special Collaboration Goods Open from Tuesday 1st August to Monday 18th September 2023 At the Omekaido Overbridge, Shinjuku (新宿大ガード) store

Trading tin badges - ¥500 (tax included) [aproximately $3.49 or £2.74] Size: 56mm diameter *Please note you will not be able to pick which design you get

Trading Mini Cards - ¥600 (tax included) [aproximately $4.19 or £3.29] Size: 120mm x 135mm *Please note you will not be able to pick which design you get

Acrylic Stand - ¥1,760 (tax included) [aproximately $12.28 or £9.66] Size: (Main body) within ~90x150mm (Pedestal) within 60mmx60mm

Es

Haruka

Yuno

Fuuta

Muu

Shidou

Mahiru

Kazui

Amane

Mikoto

Kotoko

*Photographs and actual products may differ. *Goods can be purchased even if you do not use karaoke. *There may be a limit set on how many goods you can purchase at once. *Popular items may run out of stock. Depending on the product, it may not be restocked due to manufacturing reasons.

[stewyonmolly]

for my friends who asked xxx @seaoflove2013 @laurienotteddy @biweeklybisexual

guided by this, YOGURT CAKE WITH STRAWBERRY-CRANBERRY JAM AND STREUSEL

INGREDIENTS

STREUSEL -

1/2 cup packed light brown sugar

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup butter, cubed

CAKE -

3 cups AP flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup olive oil

1 cup sugar

3 large eggs

vanilla extract (measure w yr heart)

1 1/4 cups plain greek yogurt (i used nonfat bc that’s what i have but i recommend at least 2% or full fat)

JAM -

one bag of frozen strawberries

one bag of frozen cranberries

zest and juice of one orange

you can add sugar/honey/etc if you want but i did not

INSTRUCTIONS

1. make the jam: put the frozen fruit in a pot with juice and zest. i also added a splash of water! bring to a simmer. cook down until thick and starting to caramelize. smush the fruit a little with a wooden spoon or whatever. set aside to let cool to room temp

2. prepare the cake: preheat oven to 350 degrees. in a big ol bowl beat the oil and sugar together for about 5 minutes until it’s light and fluffy. i used my cheapie stand mixer for this but you can also use a handheld electric mixer or a wooden spoon + the earnest will of ur heart. add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition until completely combined. add vanilla and beat until combined. add the yogurt and beat until combined. add one cup of flour along with all baking powder, baking soda, and salt. add the rest of the flour in one cup increments, mixing slowly between each addition until combined. do not over-mix 🫵

3. prepare the streusel: add all dry ingredients to a bowl and combine. cut the butter into small cubes and rub it into the dry ingredients until clumpy, wet-sand texture

4. build the cake: i baked this in a bundt pan but you can use whatever, really! oil/butter+flour that thang. layer down half of the cake batter. scoop in half the jam. swirl it up using a knife or yr finger or whatever (i’m not your mom). sprinkle in half the streusel. now apply the other half of the cake batter, the other half of the jam, the other half of the streusel, and swirl it up nice. bake for 55-60 minutes (mine took more like 60-65), let cool to room temp before cutting!!

[shiningcorazon]

painful.

tags: tanjiro x reader, aged-up, smut, angst (you guys are just exes nothing crazy), makeup sex? hmm

a/n: finally...lmfao. College has been kicking my ass I'm so sorry! But it's done. So sorry if it's so vanilla, I am very much a vanilla girl sorry not sorry. This situation really does hurt when it happens irl...so enjoy my pain! <3

songs: shades of cool; lana del rey, i will always; the cranberries

It was almost painful.

Stepping slowly into his apartment, cautious, as if to not let yourself fall in.

You hear him lock the door behind you with a quiet thunk. You close your eyes momentarily and inhale. The air seemed so…different. You stood in an apartment you used to practically live in, and now it feels foreign.

It was painful.

He quietly made his way around you, and you were met with those big crimson eyes of his. He looked sad, but he still had a warmness to him. A warmth that was so…Tanjiro.

He studies your face, and Tanjiro can’t believe you’re here. He hasn’t seen you since the day you left him; the day he let you go.

Now standing before him, you both wonder if this was a huge mistake.

“I missed you.” The words escaped you. Tanjiro was surprised; you were never one to initiate conversation, let alone speak in such difficult situations. You even surprised yourself. Why did you say that? It was over, there was nothing to necessarily miss. It’s over. It’s over, so why are you here?

His eyebrows curled into a worried expression, but still, he smiled.

“I missed you too.”

beat.

beat.

beat.

The silence was deafening, but it was welcomed. What else is there to say?

Meeting his gaze, your mind wandered.

You remembered how you two first met. You were at the library and he offered you coffee. How he kissed you for the first time under the night sky, how his soft lifts met yours and his warmth enveloped you. How he would call you baby, sweetheart, my love. How at nights he would reach out to you, even while he slept. How he—

Heavy tears were suddenly falling down your cheek. You quickly turned around, you couldn’t bear the feeling of him watching you cry. How pathetic! How embarrassing!

“! Are you okay?” he reached out to grab your shoulder, but decided not to. Perhaps it was his presence that upset you.

“Yes, I, I’m sorry I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

You sniffled and wiped the tears away, for some reason the tears wouldn’t stop. He waited for you to turn around, let you have as much time to compose yourself.

“Tanjiro, maybe I should leave,” you said after some time. Still not facing him; it was still too much.

“What? No—I mean, if you want to go that’s okay but don’t feel like you need to, I-”

“Tanjiro, why am I here?” You faced him, and he looked so sad.

“…I don’t really understand wha-”

You’ve got to get out of here. “I mean, why did you call me.”

“…”

No words left him for a while. All he could do was stare back at your sad eyes. Why did he call you? He just missed you. He hasn’t told anyone, but he hasn’t stopped thinking of you since you left. Everything reminds him of you; he dreams of you. Living without your presence was driving him insane, he just needed to see you again. Was it selfish of him to call you?

“I just, needed to see you again. I missed you tremendously. I just needed to see you once more. We don’t have to keep talking after this, I’m sorry if I hurt you I-”

Your sudden embrace cut him off. You had quickly closed the distance between you two, and you pulled him into a hug. Tanjiro’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He was frozen in shock; he didn’t know what to do.

It was nice to know he missed you as much as you missed him.

Your arms squeezed tighter as you felt the tears pour out once more, and you laid your head on his chest. You squeezed your eyes shut once you realized Tanjiro hadn’t moved, did you cross a line?

It was when you felt his heavy arms reach around you that you finally relaxed. He sighed softly, and let his head lay atop yours. How could Tanjiro ever deny a hug from you?

You missed this. So much.

…

You don’t really know how much you two spent just holding each other. It was so quiet; all you could hear was the rise and fall of his breath and his heartbeat. His hands would occasionally rub your back in a loving manner, and you would melt deeper into his embrace.

“hmm,” he hummed softly and you felt his head lift up. You finally opened your eyes and met his gaze, your hands finding their own place on his chest. You don’t know what it is, but he always manages to make you feel so comfortable, even in tough situations just as this one.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice slightly raspy.

You nodded. Neither of you pulled away.

“Hm…well now we could order some Chinese—or pizza! up to you, and watch a movie or something. How does that sound?” You smiled as he spoke, he knew you so well.

“That sounds nice, Tanji.” He didn’t smile back, but he didn’t seem upset.

Tanji.

It’s been so long since you called him that. It’s embarrassing, really, how a single word had him dazed. His heartbeat began racing and you could feel it under the palm of your right hand; you didn’t mention it. He opened his mouth as to say something, but then closed it again. He did not have the words to explain what he was feeling.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, and back to you.

He leaned forwards.

Tanjiro’s lips met yours with a soft intensity. You opened your mouth beneath his, swallowing his sweetness. He smelled of earth and sundried linen; it was bliss.

He retracted from you, leaving you slightly disappointed. You felt his gaze trace every one of your features. He used to constantly remind you how much he loved all of you; every inch, every centimeter. Placing his calloused hand on your cheek, he began stroking it tenderly.

“My love,” he whispered; these words he only reserved for you.

Your face leaned into his palm as your hands reached above his shoulders. They met the back of his head and pulled him to meet you once again. The kisses were rougher, more passionate. You could feel the air leaving your lungs, yet you have never felt so alive. Your hands pulled at his hair, quietly begging for more. Quiet moans left him and you swallowed each one. His rough hands traced down your figure until they landed on your hips. Slowly pushing you towards the nearest wall, eliciting a sound of surprise from you when your back makes contact.

His lips left yours, leaving you to gasp the cool air that now separated you both. His head lowered and a whimper left you when you felt his hot breath caress your neck.

“I missed you so much,” he spoke before he began leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck. His left hand landed on the lush skin of your thigh, while his right hand grabbed your hip vigorously, pulling you in closer, closer. The sounds of pleasure that left you only made Tanjiro lust for you grow, it was almost unbearable.

Whispered praises left him between each kiss. Making his way to your collarbone, marking your lush skin. He whimpered at the taste of you. His left hand traveled upwards, lifting your summer dress. Your eyes fluttered shut as you focused on the line his fingers traced towards your core. His finger curled under the band of your panties and—

What are you doing?

You two were not together anymore. It’s over, remember? This…won’t mend the past.

To be with him now, it hurt. But you loved the pain. You missed being pitied by him, being held by him. You missed being vulnerable, being weak. Right now he is basically on his knees praising you, begging for you.

“if you want me to stop, just tell me,” he murmured into your skin.

Did he truly miss you?

Does it matter?

Either way, you’d let him use you just to feel loved by him again, wouldn’t you?

“Tanjiro, please…don't stop.” How pathetic.

A sigh of relief left him as his movements continued. Fervently, he tugged at your panties, pulling them languidly down your leg. You were at his disposal. Fully exposed, body and soul.

He had stopped kissing your skin by now, but he remained within the crevice of your neck. Breathing you in, savoring the noises of pleasure that left you. You gasped when you felt two thick fingers slide against your entrance. You were so wet. Tanjiro held in a moan when he left your slick quickly cover his fingers; you were intoxicating.

He lifted his head to meet your eyes once more.

You averted your gaze away from his. But his free hand roughly grabbed at your jaw, pulling you and forcing you to look into his eyes as he slowly dips into you. Grabbing at his shoulders to find some leverage, you moan into the space between you two. He almost groans when you take him so easily.

“you’re—you’re being so good,” he panted.

Tanjiro could only stare at your face painted with ecstasy as his fingers continued to drill into you. Deciding to make add to your pleasure, or perhaps to torture you further, his thumb begins drawing lazy circles on your clit, eliciting a cry from you.

“Oh-”

The pressure wasn’t enough to make you cum, all it did was make you much more desperate for his touch. His face hovered above yours, dark crimson eyes staring into yours. You leaned in, trying to kiss him, but he would only tilt backwards in response. He was teasing you.

“Tanji, please-”

Your pleading had Tanjiro’s self control hanging by a thread. Weird, how yesterday he was dreaming of you, and now you’re here, being so compliant. So good, just for him.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“More, please—I need more,”

He shivered. “Is that so?”

“Please.”

“Anything for you.”

His fingers left you, but before you could even think about complaining his lips crashed against yours, and you melt into him once more. Tongue sliding against yours, craving your taste. You pull at his hair, both of you so desperately hungry for each other.

Perhaps it was that you were too captivated in his embrace, but you did not heart him remove his belt. You only felt two strong arms grab the back of your thighs, and then those same arms easily lift you up so that your legs wrapped around his waist. A gasp left you both as you felt him rub against your folds.

He separated from you.

“Is this okay?” his voice cracked.

This was too much, too fast, you thought.

But as you look into his eyes again, who cares?

“…yes,”

Tanjiro’s eyebrows furrowed and slowly, he slid into you. You gasped while he hissed. He stayed still for a moment, selfishly savoring the feeling. After a while, he began moving once more and all the pain was replaced by pleasure.

His thrusts were ceaseless. Constantly hitting that sweet spot, leaving you teary eyed as you whined and moaned for him. All Tanjiro could do (besides fuck you mindless) was to stare at you, oh sweet and beautiful you.

You feel your release coming sooner than excepted, and you grabbed his face. You wanted to look into his eyes as you came, something you two would always do.

And you don’t know what it is, maybe the soft smile he gives you, the soft whispered praises that leave him, or the whole nostalgic feeling of this situation, but the words just leave you:

“I love you.”

His smile drops, and his movements seem to hesitate.

“Don’t just tell me you love me, tell me you need me.” He whined.

The desperation in his voice broke you, both physically and emotionally. You were at the brink of your orgasm as you managed to stutter out what he asked of you.

“I—I need you Tanjiro, oh—”

Quickly and all at once, pleasure shot through you like a wave. You squeezed your eyes closed and moaned loudly, pulling at Tanjiro’s hair almost as a thank you.

You could tell he was near his limit as well, feeling his movements hitch.

“Where—do you,” he could barely let out a full sentence.

“Inside.”

“Wha-inside? Are you sure?”

“Please Tanjiro, please,” you panted.

He buried his head into the crook of your neck as he sped up. You then felt his warmth fill you up, as his breath caress your neck as he moans your name.

Your eyes are still closed. A room once filled with cries of pleasure was now occupied by silence and soft panting. Remaining where you were, both of you too afraid to speak, let alone look at each other.

…

You don’t know exactly what happened next, it was all a haze really.

But here you lay, on his bed. Wearing one of his shirts; it smells like him, overwhelmingly so. With the lights out, you can’t even tell if the walls are still white. The bed shifts slightly as he lays besides you, and you jolt as you feel his arm snake around you.

He murmurs into your hair, “I love you too.”

But he didn’t say it to your face, did he?

You close your eyes and try to sleep, but you can’t. The pit in your stomach won’t go away.

You stare out the window and look at the full moon, quietly wondering if love is worth all this pain.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Hawkeye (Part III)

Summary: On Christmas Eve, (Y/N) and Steve receive some shocking updates from Clint and after the archers’ fight against Kingpin, the Tracksuits and a Black Widow assassin out for blood at Rockefeller Center, the exhausted duo accepts their hospitality.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! I'm feeling a bit better now, so I've returned with a longer chapter filled with holiday fluffiness! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Hawkeye (Part III) December 24th, 2024 Holy Cross Cemetery, Brooklyn (Previous Chapter)

“I still can’t believe that people really used to decorate their Christmas trees – their very dead, very dried-out Christmas trees – with lit candles.” (Y/N) shook her head in amazement as they slowly walked past the crumbling gravestones and carefully avoided the piles of snow resting atop the frozen grass on the way down the slope to their parked car. “I mean, weren’t they afraid that they’d accidentally burn their houses down in exchange for a little holiday cheer?”

Steve nonchalantly shrugged and hitched Carina higher up on his waist. “Arsenic was in practically everything, cocaine was prescribed by doctors as medicine, and people guzzled down pure wood alcohol throughout the entirety of Prohibition; trust me, candles on Christmas trees were the least of our worries. Our tree caught fire once when I was ten or eleven and after Ma put it out, she scraped together enough money to buy a secondhand strand of lights and we never put candles on our tree again.” After taking note of her stunned silence, a mischievous smile broke out across Steve’s face. “If you think that sounds crazy, then you probably don’t wanna know why we had to stop putting strings of popcorn and cranberries on the tree…”

“And you’d be absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent correct, sweetheart.”

The morning of Christmas Eve saw the Rogers-(Y/L/N) family visiting the graves of Sarah and Joseph Rogers at Holy Cross Cemetery, Brooklyn’s sole Catholic cemetery; they’d brushed clumps of snow and wayward leaves off the two weathered gravestones, laid bouquets of red and white poinsettias and recounted stories of Christmases past in a continuation of Steve and Sarah’s old yuletide tradition. Typically, Steve never cried or showed much outward emotion whenever they’d visited his mother and father’s gravesite, but that morning he couldn’t seem to keep the happy grin off his face as he held his infant daughter in his arms and explained to his parents that they would soon be giving them a second grandchild. Seeing her husband so happy about having another child and being able to experience the entire pregnancy alongside her always succeeded in causing her heart to warm in her chest, but there was something special about watching him tell his parents about the life that so many people believed – including himself – he’d never be able to live. It’s also given me several ideas of what to do with him after we put Cari down for her nap, she thought with a sultry inward smile, ideas that are a little too risqué to voice in the middle of a Catholic cemetery.

(Y/N) was in the middle of strapping a squirming Carina into her car seat when her cell phone rang. “Sweetheart, could you get that for me?”

“Of course.” He jogged around the car and climbed into the passenger’s seat, grabbing her phone out of her purse and humming in interest when he noticed the name on the screen. “It’s Clint.”

Glancing up from the buckle, (Y/N) shot her husband a knowing look and slowly replied, “That can’t be good…”

Steve nodded in agreement before swiping a thumb across the screen and putting the call on speakerphone. “Hey, Clint; (Y/N)’s hands are a little busy, so I’ve got you on speakerphone. What’s up?”

“Are you guys home right now?”

“We spent the morning laying flowers at Steve’s parents’ graves, and we’re just about ready to head home,” (Y/N) explained, a knot of apprehension beginning to fill the pit of her stomach as she detected the uncharacteristic unease in the archer’s voice. “Why do you ask?”

“We got it wrong, (Y/L/N); it was Eleanor Bishop the whole time. Kate’s mom killed Armand, framed Jack for the murder and forged his connection to Sloan Limited. She’s been working for Kingpin for well over a decade, and Kate only just found out.”

(Y/N), who’d just given Carina her pacifier and a kiss on her forehead, sat back and watched her daughter for a moment before sighing to herself, imagining the overwhelming anger, confusion and hurt that the twenty-two-year-old must’ve felt in reaction to the devastating news. “Poor Kate…how’s she holding up?”

“Better than I thought she would,” Clint replied, and there was a hint of pride in his words as he continued. “Eleanor’s turned on Kingpin and he’s gonna send a message to the city by attacking her company’s Christmas Eve gala, so Kate’s focusing on prepping for tonight’s fight. Those LARPers I told you about are giving us a hand, since most of ‘em are first responders when they’re not dressed up in costumes and pretend-fighting each other with fake weapons, and we’re gonna build as many trick arrows as we’ll need to take out an army of Tracksuits.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve’s hand twitch towards the glove box, where they both agreed to stash several weapons in the event that they were ever attacked by any new or former enemies. “Something else is wrong, isn’t it? Did Kingpin find out about-?”

“-No, no, it’s not that. Eleanor hired a Black Widow assassin to kill me; we had a scuffle last night but they retreated before they could finish their assignment. I just learned this morning that the assassin…it’s Yelena.” (Y/N) and Steve’s gazes met and their eyes widened in identical shock. “And this isn’t just an assignment for her. She’s here to avenge Nat’s death by taking out the one person she thinks is responsible.”

“…Clint, you aren’t responsible for the choices that Nat made. You know that, right?”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the call. “I know, Steve. But chances are she’s gonna show up tonight to complete her assignment, so I wanted to give you a heads-up in case she decides to go after you guys next.”

(Y/N) frowned. “You don’t really think that Yelena would-?”

“Nat told her about you, about how you were one of her best friends; if she’s targeting me, then there’s a chance she’ll target you, too. Just be ready for anything, okay? Booby trap the house Home Alone style if you have to, but don’t let your guards down.” The archer cleared his throat. “I’ve lost enough people in my life, and I don’t wanna lose any more of ‘em. You two read me?”

Although Clint couldn’t see them, a stoic-looking Steve nodded once. “Loud and clear. Good luck out there tonight, Clint.”

“And watch each other’s backs,” (Y/N) added, the barest hint of a smile beginning to play on her lips at the thought of the Tracksuits attempting to take on two skilled archers armed with the deadliest and most imaginative arrows in the world. “I’ve only heard stories from Nat about your plethora of trick arrows, so I look forward to seeing their aftermath on tonight’s newscast…but for Scott’s sake, maybe try and avoid using any Pym Particles.”

The archer chuckled. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want Hank to blow another fuse. I’ll be sure to call you guys after the firefight, okay?”

They bid one another goodbye and after Steve ended the call, he looked up at (Y/N) with a glint of determination in his azure eyes. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Biting her lip, (Y/N) backed out of the car’s backseat and closed the door before slipping into the driver’s seat and sighing. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Brienne,” They both recited at the same time.

Brienne, named for the popular character from Game of Thrones, was an A.I. home defense system that Tony bequeathed to them after his death; according to Pepper, he created it shortly after their engagement announcement as a wedding present but after the Accords and what happened in Siberia, he stowed it away in his archives. It was a thoughtful gift that provided them both with a sense of security, but the A.I. – similar to J.A.R.V.I.S. and E.D.I.T.H. – came with not only a distinct voice, but a distinct and booming yell that was triggered by any movement around the perimeter of their home. The one and only time they’d activated Brienne was when they resided in Maine, and the A.I.’s defensive techniques frightened a passing black bear so badly that it scurried up a pine tree and stayed there for hours. But while (Y/N) was still unconvinced that Yelena Belova would target her in revenge for her sister’s death, she was wary of Kingpin and his considerable forces uncovering her family’s involvement in Clint’s latest mission. I suppose that the annoying A.I. is better than nothing, (Y/N) thought to herself as she switched on the ignition and her husband’s hand moved to rest on her knee, the warmth of his touch working to comfort her as they both silently contemplated their friend’s imminent fight against Kingpin, the Tracksuits and a vengeful Black Widow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“-considerable damage to Rockefeller Center, namely its ice public skating rink and the world-famous Christmas tree. But thanks to the bravery and heroism of Avenger Clint Barton, JOAD Olympian Achievement Award recipient Kate Bishop and a group of off-duty first responders, several dozen members of the organized crime syndicate called the Tracksuit Mafia were apprehended by the NYPD and no injuries were reported by any of the gala’s attendees. Additionally, Eleanor Bishop, CEO of Bishop Security and mother of Kate Bishop, was arrested for the murder of Armand Duquesne the Third, and notorious businessman and crime lord Wilson Fisk was rushed to the Rockefeller University Hospital with life-threatening injuries. After the break, we’ll talk with an eyewitness who claims to have spotted the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man swinging near the scene-”

“All’s well that ends well, I suppose.” (Y/N) remarked with a content sigh, reaching for the remote on the empty couch cushion beside her and switching the channel, settling on a broadcast of A Charlie Brown Christmas before continuing. “I just wish that Kate didn’t have to go through the pain of losing her mother on Christmas Eve.”

Steve, who was sitting behind her and gently massaging circles across her baby bump, pressed a comforting kiss onto her shoulder and rested his cheek on the top of her head as she nuzzled closer to him. “Eleanor chose Kingpin over her own daughter, and now she’s gotta answer for that choice. But Kate’s strong, and if she had the strength to throw herself into danger to do the right thing, then she’ll have the strength to recover from this.”

Something in Steve’s tone of voice made (Y/N) crane her neck to meet his gaze. When she saw the conflicted emotions written across his face and the faraway look in his azure eyes as he watched the cartoon playing on television screen before them, she moved her arm back and softly brushed her fingers through his cropped blonde hair to coax him into looking at her; he blinked and after his eyes finally met hers, she smiled but continued to twirl her fingers around the longer strands of his hair. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Her husband remained silent for a long moment, only answering after (Y/N)’s free hand moved to rest atop one of the hands that was cradling her bump. “Christmas Eve, 2017. Wanda was off visiting Vision and I was alone in a run-down hotel room in Tunis, just waiting for Sam and Nat to come back from a meeting with one of her contacts. While I waited, I was watching this special dubbed in Arabic. I remember sitting there in that room just wishing with everything I had that I could’ve been here with you, and sometimes…sometimes, I try to imagine how different things would’ve been for us if I’d ignored the risks and the mission and come home for Christmas.”

(Y/N)’s smile faltered a little as she realized what he was tentatively referring to; late into December of 2017 was when she’d discovered that she was three months pregnant, and Steve wouldn’t find out about his daughter’s existence until the summer of 2018, when the Black Order invaded and they fought in the Battle of Wakanda. Steve met his daughter that day, only to tragically lose her several hours later in the Snap, and he’d suffered with the grief of her sudden loss alongside (Y/N) for five long years until Bruce’s Snap brought all the Vanished back. “Steve…”

“I know, sunshine, I try not to but I can’t help it-”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” (Y/N) gently reassured him and when Steve took a shaky breath, she cupped his cheek and traced the smile lines around his eye with the feather-light pad of her thumb. “You know that I don’t blame you for not being there, and you know that I’ll never judge you for wondering how different things might’ve been if you were.” Her hand repositioned his to cradle the top of her bump where the baby was currently shifting about, and she couldn’t help but smile at the tender look in her husband’s azure eyes when he felt their unborn child’s faint movements. “But can you feel that? The universe gave us a second chance, Steve; the important thing is that you’re here now, being a fantastic father to Carina and doing everything a loving, loyal husband is supposed to do for his pregnant wife, and every single day, I wake up and I thank the universe for giving us this second chance.”

The worry line between his brows smoothed out as his expression relaxed and he moved one of his hands to rest on the side of her neck, softly stroking her jawline with his thumb before asking, “Have I told you how much I love you today?”

“Twice, but I could always use another reminder.”

Steve’s lips quirked upwards in amusement at her words. “I love you, baby, with everything I am and more.”

(Y/N) smiled happily up at him. “And I love you too, sweetheart.” Her eyes fluttered closed as she pulled Steve’s face down and he bent around her to capture her lips in a languid yet passionate kiss.

“Lucky, do you really have to go and invade Indy’s personal space like that? I mean, c’mon, you literally just met the guy and you’re already sniffing his business! Boundaries, dude, c’mon.”

Pulling apart, (Y/N) leaned her forehead against Steve’s and let out a breathless chuckle. “I suppose we should be good hosts and check in with our guests. We’ll continue this later, Mr. Rogers.”

Eyes darkening with desire, Steve smirked and lowered his voice before replying, “I look forward to it, Professor (Y/L/N).”

They both stood up from the couch, with (Y/N) doing her best to mask just how much her husband’s use of her title had affected her and with Steve biting back the knowing smile that threatened to break out across his face, and held each other’s hand while they left the living room and strolled into the dining room; Kate Bishop, sporting fresh facial wounds and damp hair from her quick shower, was finishing up her bowl of Kraft Mac & Cheese at the table and giggling to herself while her Golden Retriever and their German Shepard lounged together on the floor by the food and water bowl. The young archer appeared to be in good spirits, despite her near deadly fight with Kingpin himself and aiding the police in arresting her mother for murder, but (Y/N) knew all too well that her cheerful mood would steadily dissipate once the post-battle adrenaline wore off and the reality of her situation set in.

“Did you want some more mac and cheese, Kate, or anything else to drink?”

Glancing up and over at them, Kate adamantly shook her head and flashed them a bright smile. “I’m good, but thank you so much for the offer! Seriously, you guys have already done so much for me and Lucky; you made us a midnight snack, I got a post-battle shower and a fresh change of clothes, and I even got some Grade-A first aid.” The young archer beamed as she gestured to the bandage that stretched across the bridge of her nose. “I mean, who knew that Steve Rogers was good at first aid? I certainly didn’t! You must’ve learned during the war, right?”

“My mother, actually,” Steve corrected, tucking his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and giving a surprised Kate an offhand shrug. “I picked a lot of fights with bullies when I was growing up and she was the one who patched me up after each loss.”

“And that never stopped you from confronting the bullies…” Kate looked between them both and shook her head in amazement. “I’m beginning to see why you two get along so well. I, um, I also just want you guys to know that I’m not gonna tell anyone about all this.” Her dark brown eyes met (Y/N)’s, her gaze filled with understanding and an earnest respect. “You were right when you said that there’s things you’ll lose living the life of a superhero; a couple of hours ago, I helped the cops arrest my mom for murder and now I officially have no family. I can’t even imagine the sort of things you two’ve lost along the way, but what you’ve got now? I sure as hell won’t be the one to take this away from you.”

(Y/N) gave the young archer a thankful smile. “We trust you, Kate. And since you’re now privy to some top-secret Avengers intel, I should probably share with you one of the most important lessons I’ve learned as a superhero.” Kate’s brow rose in interest and (Y/N) nodded towards the cluster of framed photographs that were hung above the dining room’s antique sideboard; there was one that showed (Y/N), Steve, Sam and Nat hanging out at a bar, another with (Y/N) and Steve posing next to Tony and Pepper at their engagement party, and one that was taken of the Avengers as they dined on Chinese food takeout and planned their time heist. The last picture was of Sam and Bucky with the Rogers-(Y/L/N) family on the day they broke the news of her second pregnancy to their best friends; Sam was holding Carina on his hip and Bucky tickled her sides to get her to smile for the camera while Steve’s arm was slung around the super-soldier’s shoulders, his other arm wrapped around (Y/N)’s waist and his hand joining hers in cradling her barely-there baby bump. “A family doesn’t always have to be the one you’re born into. Sometimes, it’s something you get to create for yourself.” Kate’s eyes started to prickle with unshed tears, and she immediately began to blink them away and mask her emotional response with a bright smile, which only made (Y/N)’s sympathy for the upset twenty-two-year-old grow. “This little gumball feels a little restless, so I’m gonna make some hot coca. I’d be more than happy to make enough for everyone…”

Steve, instantly catching on to her line of thinking, lifted their joined hands up and gave her knuckles an exaggerated kiss while subtly winking for just her to see. “Mmm, you know how much I love your famous hot coca, sunshine. You use real milk and imported Belgian chocolate, don’t you?”

“Of course, that’s how it becomes so rich and creamy. I even sprinkle a pinch of gingerbread over the whipped cream to give it that seasonal flair.”

“Gosh, I’d just hate for anyone to miss out on the experience of enjoying such a special beverage…”

Watching their staged exchange with a growing smirk, Kate burst into laughter and raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get the hint! I’d love some of your famous hot coca, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) beamed in triumph, giving Steve a chaste kiss on the cheek before releasing his hand and striding into the kitchen; as she assembled her ingredients and put the saucepan of milk on the stove to boil, she listened in on Kate and Steve’s conversation about archery, smiling to herself as she imagined her husband comforting their own children in a similar manner. Steve often doubted himself as a father, a habit he’d once confessed partially stemmed from never having known his own father, but (Y/N) never once doubted that the man who was patiently listening to an impassioned rant about the possibilities of various trick arrows in combat situations and even injecting his own opinions for Kate’s benefit was meant to be a father.

“Oooo, (Y/L/N)’s famous hot coca!” (Y/N), who was mixing the chocolate into the simmering milk, glanced over to see Clint enter the kitchen; the archer was toweling his hair dry, mindful of the steri-strips and bruises that littered his face, and the sight of his fluffed-up hair and eager grin forced her to stifle her chuckles. “Need any help with that?”

“Not with this, but could you grab some mugs from the cabinet for me?” He did as she asked, setting four mugs down onto the counter and nodding when she murmured her thanks. Seeing that he was preoccupied with examining the ‘America’s Ass’ mug that Scott sent Steve for his birthday, she took the opportunity to inspect his many visible wounds and winced in sympathy. “I’m looking at Yelena’s handiwork, aren’t I?”

Clint huffed out a humorless chuckle and nodded. “Yep. Not my first time having my ass kicked by a Black Widow, but I don’t remember it hurting as much as it does now.” He sobered when he caught sight of her concerned frown, slinging the towel he’d been using over his shoulder and giving hers a reassuring pat. “I got through to her in the end, and that’s all that matters. And for what it’s worth, she only really seemed pissed at me, so it’s safe to say that you and Steve are in the clear.”

Switching the burner off, (Y/N) took the saucepan off the stove and carefully began pouring the liquid into each mug. “I know that she just tried to kill you a couple of hours ago, but I still can’t help but hope that I’ll get the chance to meet Yelena someday. I spoke with Alexei and Melina over FaceTime after the Battle of Earth and I helped them arrange for Nat’s plot in Ohio…”

“But you haven’t been able to pass along the holographic puck she recorded Yelena’s message on,” Clint finished and pursed his lips in contemplation. “You told Alexei and Melina about the puck, right?” (Y/N) nodded as she reached into the refrigerator for a can of whipped cream. “It’s safe to say that before tonight, Yelena wasn’t ready to accept that Nat’s gone, but now? It’s possible that she’ll be ready for some closure, so don’t be surprised when you open your door to see her standing on your porch one day.”

While she added a sizable swirl of whipped cream to each mug of hot coca and finished them off with a sprinkle of gingerbread, (Y/N) smiled to herself and snuck a brief glance at Clint. “You know, Nat told me once that she counted herself lucky to have the three best siblings in the world; I’ll never forget just how happy that made me, because that was around the time I finally decided to go no contact with my family. She was my sister, in every sense of the word.”

“I know how you feel; back before Laura and the kids, Nat was the only family I had.” The archer’s voice cracked but he managed to muster up a reassuring smile for her. “I know that I wasn’t there for her when she needed me and that that’s something I’m gonna have to live with…” He peered out into the nearby dining room and watched Kate enthusiastically mime firing trick arrows as she talked to Steve, his smile softening and his blue-grey eyes filling with parental pride. “But I think that she’d be proud of what I accomplished with Kate.”

(Y/N) leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss onto Clint’s cheek before giving him a smile of understanding. “I think she would, too. Now c’mon, Hawkeye, let’s go deliver a little Christmas cheer and learn about all the possible applications of boomerang arrows before your guys’ ride to JFK gets here.”

Loading the mugs onto a tray, (Y/N) and Clint joined Steve and Kate at the dining room table, where they enjoyed their hot coca and engaged in a lively debate about the sort of trick arrows that the archers believed could work in a battle; (Y/N)’s hand absentmindedly rubbed across her bump as she watched Clint and Kate’s playful argument, her lips curving into an amused grin that only widened when she caught Steve’s azure eyes and he scooted his chair closer to hers so that he could drape an arm over her shoulders. Not quite how I pictured our little Rogers-(Y/L/N) Family Christmas going, she silently admitted to herself as she contently rested her head against her husband’s shoulder, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You still haven’t convinced me that boomerang arrows aren’t an excellent idea, Clint.” Kate stubbornly crossed her arms and turned to (Y/N) and Steve with an expectant look on her face. “Be honest, guys, doesn’t it sound like one of the best ideas you’ve ever heard?”

Ever the diplomat, Steve masked his chuckles with a contemplative hum and shrugged. “I’m not too sure how you’d be able to apply it, but it’s not a half-bad idea.”

Kate fist-pumped the air in triumph while an indignant Clint’s jaw dropped and he whipped his head around to stare at Steve. “Seriously, Rogers? You think it’s a good idea that an arrow should be able to fly back at you after you’ve fired it?”

“To be fair, he never said it was good,” (Y/N) pointed out. “What he said was that it wasn’t a half-bad idea.”

“Thank you, sunshine.” The archer rolled his eyes when Steve leaned over to plant a soft kiss onto her cheek and shot him a mischievous smirk. “All I know is that you could’ve taken out a helluva lot more Chitauri during the Battle of New York if your thirty-two arrows could’ve boomeranged back to you, Barton.”

Kate’s hand quickly moved to clamp over her mouth to muffle her laughter and (Y/N) masked hers with an unconvincing cough as Clint gasped in exaggerated outrage and made a rude hand gesture towards a chuckling Steve. “Damn, Clint, need some aloe for that burn?” Kate snickered and reached across the table to fist-bump Steve. “Thanks for the support, man!” The young archer leapt up from the table and hurried over to the duffel bag she’d deposited in the entryway. “And here, I’ve already thought of how I’d design the arrow!”

“Wait, Kate, you’re gonna trip the-”

“UNAUTHORIZED WEAPONRY DRAWN ON THE PREMISES, MY LORD AND LADY!”

Clint’s hand flew towards his hearing aid and Kate yelped in surprise, poking her head back into the dining room with a shell-shocked expression written across her face. “What the hell was that?!”

With a sigh, (Y/N) set her empty mug down onto her coaster and smiled despite herself. “Brienne.”

“Or as I like to call her, the posthumous revenge of Tony Stark,” Steve added, his own grin dimming a little as a wistful gleam filled his azure eyes. “Wherever he is, he’s gotta be laughing his ass off right now…”

“Language!” (Y/N), Clint and Kate’s exclamation broke the tension and even Steve couldn’t stop himself from laughing along with them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Only one more chapter left, guys! (And don't worry, we'll soon find out who was watching (Y/N) in the last chapter) Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 

Hawkeye (Part IV)

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 

Tagging:  @mrs-obrien​​​​​ @lahoete​​​​​ @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk​​​​ @momc95​​​​​ @savedbystyle​​​​​ @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat​​​​​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​​​​ @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​ @hufflepeople​​​​​ @becausewelie​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​​ @junipermurdock​​​​​ @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley​​​​​ @username23345@crist1216​​​​​ @capswife​​​​​ @lilmschild​​​​​ @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​ @y-napotat​​​ @mary1raven​​​​​ @groovyqueer​​​​​ @ljej95​​​​​ @innersublimefury​​​ @prettysbliss​​​​​​  

[musicalchaos07]

Hi, hello where did the Closer Anon go bc I have a WIP.

If Jonathan didn't know any better he'd swear that Nancy Wheeler of all people is in this shitty hotel bar. Her hair is longer and the curls are less defined than the last time he saw her. Seemingly softer or at least less uniform. She’s practically radiating in a tightly fitting deep blue dress, he quickly glances again desperate to capture her image in his mind.  He shakes it off, it must just be the light playing tricks on him after a long day. It’s just wishful thinking again. It wouldn't be the first time he imagined running into her. He doubts it'll be the last. Every time he visits Hawkins he swears she's in the aisles of Bradley's but it's never actually her. Except this time, mirage Nancy has noticed him too. She's been periodically looking his way for the last ten minutes or so. Just long enough for him to notice and then she looks away again. And he knows that game, she used to play it all time in junior year. A quick glance meant she wanted to meet him in the dimly lit corners of Hawkins High for a kiss during the passing period.   Maybe the long term exposure of chemicals has gone to his brain. Maybe he's just dreaming. But he glances again and she’s moving his way. Closing in on him. He should just bail now, pay his tab, go back to his room and keep Nancy frozen in his memories.  “Hey” she greets in the same soft gentle tone she used to tell him she loved him with.  “Hey” he musters, unsure what the protocol is in this situation. Should he hug her? Offer to buy her a drink? Apologize for existing?  Nancy, confident as ever, does the heavy lifting in this socialization. Sliding onto the stool next to him and flagging the bartender down for a Vodka Cranberry for her and another Old Fashioned for him. She takes a long swig of her drink and he watches her throat as she swallows like some kind of creep. She clears her throat and smiles to herself, amused by something and Jonathan really wishes he knew what exactly.  “So what is the ever elusive Jonathan Byers doing in Miami?” she asks finally.  “Working believe it or not” He answers cautiously, “You?” he questions, taking a drink before he can say something that fucks whatever this is up.  “Uh bachelorette party actually” she laughs softly. Sending his heart soaring before he registers her answer.  He wills his heart to not sink into depths of hell. It's been four years of course there's someone else. Nancy's a catch, he knows that. He tries to will himself to congratulate her instead of appealing to her that he knows he fucked up but he’s changed. Or swearing that if she gives him another chance he’ll stay with her for the rest of his life. Or pleading with her to run away with him like they’re still seventeen.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 As Dawn Breaks: Chapter Twenty-Seven

As Dawn Breaks: Mother Night and Father Time, after having sired seven Endless to personify life in the known universe, create Earth and human life begins. One last Endless is created: Dawn, the personification of illumination and hope, the beginning of a new day and a chance for happiness and improvement. A love will span thousands of millennia, breaking with every sunrise and renewing hope come sunset. Yet, even the personification of hope can lose the very notion of her existence from the sting of a broken heart.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Dream/Morpheus x Endless!FemaleReader(Dawn), This Involves Themes That Are Not For Everyone.

Word Count: ~2.0k

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“Winter harvest should prove fruitful,” Gallia spoke, eying the grape vines frosted over. You hummed in agreement before eyeing the cranberry pond, it’s harvest season was nigh over.

“Surely we shall bottle a great deal of ice wine this season, but I fear we must hasten the harvest of our cranberries for their time is almost at an end.” You mused softly, your tongue already craving the tart taste of cranberry jam and sweetened cranberry juice. Gallia nodded in agreement before glancing down at the clipboard in her hands.

“Shall I assign the Western water nymphs to aide in the harvest?” She offered, knowing that the Western water nymph pod were very adept with their hands and thorough in their work. You hummed in agreement before pausing in thought.

“How about inviting Bezina? Surely she would like the change of scenery, or at the very least some enrichment.” You added, drumming your fingernails on your crossed arm. “She’s been rather lethargic lately and not getting into trouble…” Gallia eyed you with a half smile. While the Jengu was mischievous and always causing some sort of trouble around the realm, she had been rather demur as of late and it was clear you didn’t like that. All of your people needed to be healthy and happy, even the troublemakers. Besides, what was life without a little mischief?

“I shall dispatch one of your faeries then,” Gallia murmured, scribbling on her clipboard. Your eyes scanned the vineyard one last time before you turned and looked up at the looming mountains within your realm. It was one area of your realm that you seldom visited, mostly because your people who lived their preferred solitude and to not have outside interference. You respected their way of life and stayed distant, but perhaps it was time to stop by to visit. You started walking for the path that led to the mountain summits. It was an arduous path, twisting and winding through the dense woods that surrounded the base.

The path was nearly overgrown as you walked it, bushes and vines having grown into the dirty to the point where you had to stop periodically to coax the plants from where feet were meant to walk. It wouldn’t do to have your precious plants trampled, now would it? As you walked you could see the eyes of the woodland creatures following you and hear the flutters of wings and feet through branches. It really had been far too long since you had visited the summits. Walking along, the temperature slowly got colder and colder until the dirt underfoot turned hard, and then soon became fresh snow. Your lips twitched with childish joy at the cold powdery substance. The urge to shirk your duties was strong, you wanted to gather the little ones of your realm and spend the day playing in the snow, building sculptures, carving ice, even skating along frozen ponds.

“I don’t know who is the worse influence, me or the little ones…” You sighed to yourself, picking up the skirts of your chiton so the hem didn’t drag through muddy parts of the path. Halfway up the mountain you had to pause for a break, feeling far more fatigued than usual. Leaning against a nearby tree, you collected your energy once more. How many millennia had it been since you were this tired? Perhaps you had overworked yourself again, you had just gotten through the busy summer season of hopes and dreams and hadn’t really taken a chance to relax through the fall. Running a hand over your hair, you looked at the trail wearily… it might be tiring, but the destination would be worth the laborious journey.

Humming lowly, you resumed your walking and reached the village within half an hour. You were huffing a puffing of course, an off feeling for an Endless, but forgot to question it the moment your eyes connected with the solitary villagers. Their eyes brightened nearly as bright as the lanterns handing from the irons posts throughout the village.

“My lady! We were just wondering if we should invite you up for a viewing of your winter gardens!” Fiobe, the head Faun of the clan cried as she trotted over, her hooves striking on the stone cobbles that wound through the village. You smiled at her and looked around, appreciating the the hand stitched banners that were mounted on poles and the marbled sculptures of Pan. It was a refreshing change to what you were used to seeing.

“I’m afraid in my endeavor to give you the solitude your people life, I have neglected to ensure that you have everything you need and are well,” You told her tiredly, your fingers grasping onto the skirt of your dress tighter. Surely your journey hadn’t taken that much out of you? Fiobe shook her head, her curls flying around her horns.

“Oh no, my lady, the peace and serenity you have given us is more than we ever dream of!” Fiobe echoed, her large doe eyes scrutinizing you with unease. While your visits were far and few between, you had never looked anything but the picture of perfection… until now. Now you looked tired, run down, almost sick even. What reason did an Endless have to be sick? Were they even capable of being so? Fiobe didn’t know and was concerned. “Shall I show you the flowering gardens? I am sure you will love the alpine flower garden, we’ve had a particularly good grow this year.”

You agreed and followed the faun along the path. There were an abundance of delicate snowdrops blooming highlighted by the bright yellow winter aconite blooms  dotted here and there though you did notice that quite a few plants had little nibbles on them.

“The children snacking on the garden once more?” You asked, your lips twitching. The young fauns had a garden designated for snacking. They could eat whatever flower or plant that was within the walls of the garden. But every so often a batch of adolescent fauns decided to help themselves to the gardens not for eating. Fiboe went off on a tangent, hands on her hips and stamping a hoof as she chided the eating habits of the latest brood of fauns. You almost started to laugh at her irateness when a surge of nausea churned within your stomach. Squeaking, you threw yourself in the direction of the exit and just mangled to get yourself out of the garden and to a small patch of mud and stones before the lunch you had enjoyed earlier that day with your handmaidens came up in an acidic sting.

Your fingers dug into mud, snow, and stone as you heaved, and your eyes burned with tears. This was such an awful feeling, and one you hadn’t felt in eons. It terrified you. Fiobe was at your side, patting your back and holding your hair for you as you spit up the rest of your lunch. More fauns came trotting over in a whirlwind, their soft voices echoing with questions and above all concerns. Fiobe hushed them and shooed them back to give you space.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” She said, her eyes wide. “I think you perhaps best return to your inner sanctum my lady. We shall send for to Ruta and Rosea so they are expecting you.”

“It took me an hour to walk here, I’ll just transport myself to them,” You rasped. The fauns chittered their concerns.

“I fear what will become of you should you attempt to use magic in this moment.” Fiobe responded, shaking her head. “I will call for The Zheng, he shall take you down the mountain swiftly and safely.” You were too consumed by how you felt and the troubling implications of your sickness to argue back. It was only perhaps half a minute before the beautiful and sleek Zheng bounded over. It had the form of a leopard, but had a single horn protruding from its forehead and five tails that swished behind it.  The Zheng was a solitary creature, traversing the mountains alone and avoiding most crowds. It had a predatory gaze and a vicious nature, but should you get close to it, you could make a friend for life. This particular Zheng you had hand reared yourself and was immediately shoving her face towards you, a whine of curiosity and concern building in her chest.

“I am simply unwell, my cub,” You sighed, reaching up and pressing your hand into her side. “Can you please bring me back to the castle?” The Zheng let out a chirp and settled on her belly, allowing you to climb onto her back with the help of the fauns. Once there, you pressed your fingers into her short mane and looked to Fiobe. “Fiobe, I wish I could have stay for more than mere minutes.” You spoke to her, your voice rasped from you getting sick. The faun clicked her tongue.

“Never mind that, my lady, you can always come back. You being sick is no trifle.” The old faun gave you a look, and you pursed your lips.

“Ruta shall be attending, I can promise you that,” You whispered, leaning your cheek against the Zheng’s flank. “I could also do for a nap, I feel ever so tired.” As a matter of fact, you didn’t just feel tired, you felt nauseous and ready to be sick all over again. You thought to close your eyes for but a moment, but one moment you were resting your eyes atop the mountain, and the next you found the Zheng gently loping through the halls of your castle. Softly moaning as your stomach rolled once more, you lifted your face from the Zheng’s flank to see her entering your private garden where Ruta and Rosea already waited. Worry was plastered on their faces. 

The Zheng crept to a stop and slowly lowered her belly to the grass. You twisted on her back and moved to slip to the ground as Ruta and Rosea rushed over. Both handmaidens noticed how dreadful you looked, a slightly green tinge to your cheeks and a pallor that washed out your usual lush skin. You dropped to the grass of your private courtyard and wobbled, Ruta’s hands steadied you.

“Thank you, dear Zheng,” Ruta spoke to the creature before she and Rosea guided you towards your room. By the time they had you sitting down your bed, your ere trembling with anguish.

“Ruta,” You spoke in a hush, your eyes barely lifting to hers. “I think I—“ You couldn’t say it, because saying the words meant that it could be true, and that terrified you. Tears gathered at the edges of your eyes. “I can’t go through that pain again, I— I can’t.” Ruta shushed you as your tears started to fall, her hands stroking over your hair. Your handmaiden was well adept and in-tune with your health, and focused her gentle powers on your being.

There it was. Just a little tiny ember, was a star of life growing within your womb. Oh how Ruta wished she could lie to you and say that all your fears were for naught. That you were merely sick and would recover in respite. That you didn’t have to face your biggest fear, once more. But she couldn’t. Not to you, her precious maker, her precious charge, her precious friend.

“Dawn,” Ruta spoke as gently as she could, dreading the emotions and tears that are surely to come. The agony. The despair. The torment. The ruin. “You have a child of the stars growing within your womb once more.” Silent tears were no longer silent as you started weeping, terrified of what you considered to be inevitable. All Ruta could do was hold you.

“What would you like me to do?” Ruta asked you, knowing that you wouldn’t want the other Endless to feel any of your trouble or agony. A tear streaked down your face and dripped from your chin. Your lips trembled as you parted them to give her your answer.

“Seal the gates.”

Date Published: 4/17/23

Last Edit: 4/17/23

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[kabillieu]

We're doing our usual low-key Thanksgiving at home tomorrow, just the four of us. I'm a little tired of the sides I usually make, but I didn't have it in me this year to branch out and try new things. I also like my gross Southern sides too. I can't help it. Casseroles raised me. I did add an (eggless) baked macaroni and cheese because so much of what I'm making has eggs in it, and R can't have eggs. Today I made cornbread muffins for the cornbread dressing I'll assemble tomorrow. I mixed the broccoli casserole and put it in the fridge. I made spinach dip. I have sparkling wine and orange/mango juice for mimosas. Dominic said he's going to make some sausage cheese balls for breakfast, and I'm really looking forward to that. I also have things to make a cheese board, but I bet we won't even get around to that. Here's what we're eating tomorrow:

Sausage cheese balls, with mimosas for me.

Spinach dip with sliced red and yellow sweet peppers and tortilla chips.

Fried turkey and gravy, cornbread dressing, jellied cranberry sauce (from a can obviously), broccoli casserole, baked macaroni and cheese, green beans, and yeast rolls.

For desert I wanted to make a chocolate chess pie, but all the premade frozen pie shells were gone when I finally went grocery shopping yesterday, and though I'm capable of making a pie crust from scratch, that's more effort than I care to put forth, so I grabbed two different kinds of frozen apple tarts and apple dumplings, and we'll have those with vanilla ice cream, and I think that will be good enough.

Thanksgiving used to be one of my favorite holidays, but as I get older it seems more and more complex. Regardless, I am grateful to eat too much gross but delicious food with the family I love.

[a-queer-crip-writes]

Nine Fingers

It still amazes him that he goes entire days without thinking of the war.

The farm is busy, though. Every day and every season, and part of the point of a co-op is that the burden and the joy of planning falls on everyone as well as the legwork.

And so, slowly, all the moments where memories used to rise up into like mist from damp earth have begun to fill with thoughts like We really need to cut back the cranberries this year; they’re getting leggy and I don’t want to start having think about stilts to pick the top ones; We’ve got so much sileage this spring, I wonder if the Selvars over the valley would swap a couple of their black-eared kids for some of it? or even just Oooh, a couple more days and those little pea pods will be just perfect to eat from the vine.

And he has a few regular partners now, not all of them from the old platoon; Annalise over from Selvars and David, two years in the co-op now, to go along with Reev and Alma and Zou. He doesn’t even think Annalise served; she is five or six years younger than him. A lifetime, in its way.

But what it means is that his nights and mornings are more and more frequently filled with chatter about the chickens or the nut trees, the teams on the local ball league or the serial they are all listening to on the radio along with warmth and kisses and pleasure. And even on the mornings where he wakes up alone the farmhouse is full of gentle noise, people to feed, and a gaggle of hungry fowl trumpeting their displeasure from their safe coop.

It does not mean he never wakes screaming in the night with his ears full of screams and bangs and choking breaths and his nose full of the stench of blood and ordure. Or that he is never woken by the screams of any of the others. Reev still has choking night terrors that leave them frozen and hard to wake, and Zou still attacks him in his sleep, occasionally; leaving bruises and welts and scratches that horrify him when he wakes. But they are all growing rarer over time. Weeks of peace and forgetfulness.

It is his turn to look after Emzy today. He used to dread that, when she was very small and a great deal of it involved walking her between Alma and Ru for feeds; terrified that any moment he looked away from her she would do herself a terminal injury. Now, when she is a chubby and robust 20-month-old, the danger of that is materially far greater; he occasionally wonders how humanity survived this long when a critical developmental stage seems to involve finding every possible new and exciting way to potentially kill oneself while giggling loudly all the while. But now he has somehow worked himself to loving his days with her, even if he is frequently more tired afterwards than after the hardest days of fieldwork.

One of her favourite games is luckily less potentially lethal. Pat-a-cake, David called it when he taught it to her, and by extension to all of them. She is beginning to babble the little rhyme that goes along with it; a wordless chuckle of sound that is like the unleavened dough of words.

It seems to have awoken her to the fact that she *has* hands. She likes to sit with her little fat legs stretched out in front of her, his long scarred ones spread out to make room for her and tiny chubby starfish hands spread out palm to palm with his. After rounds and rounds of Pat-a-cake finally loses its appeal, he has started counting fingers with her. One, waggling his thumb against hers. Two. Three.

Eventually, of course, they get to Nine and he has no finger there to waggle against hers, point at her with, or end up as a chew-toy for her budding gums. Just the stump, not even reaching the first joint. It had been longer, once, before the surgeon neatened it up for him, but he was grateful for their work - he had much better use of that hand now. Every time they get to Nine, and she still looks at her tiny soft finger rising alone above his stump with wonder. Until he distracts her by gently bumping his forehead against hers or blowing in her ear to make her giggle, and they go on to Ten.

One day she will likely have the words to ask about that. Why she has ten fingers and he has only nine. Why Ilma has a prosthetic leg that they still keep having to try to adjust to ease her stump, and Reev’s eye sometimes gets interference from their little harvest drone signals. Why all her parents carry scars, and how they met, and how she came to be.

He hopes by then that he - that they - might have better answers for her.

[ebonyheartnet]

Okay, so here’s an extremely simple recipe that’s gotten me through the last few low spoon months. It freezes well, and I’m able to get about five or six meals out of it.

The base recipe is naturally gluten free. So long as you customize accordingly, it’s also extremely friendly to most allergies (bc god knows I have damn near all of them).

For those with texture issues, the chicken comes out almost like it’s stewed and the vegetables are very soft without being wet. As for the oats, they’re more of a rice or fresh pasta texture, not mushy or porridge like if you nail the moisture content. Though there is a good bit of browning, especially if you add the baking soda, nothing’s really crunchy. You can add a bit of crunch by putting the portion you want to eat back in the rice cooker for a few minutes on high/cook.

Equipment:

-14 cup rice cooker (mine is by aroma housewares and is about $25 USD on Amazon rn)

-plastic/silicone/wooden spatula or spoon

-Tupperware and/or quart sized freezer bags

Ingredients:

-1 tbs of oil of your choice (ghee, olive oil, etc. you decide what flavor works best with what you want to eat and go for it)

-1/2 lbs of frozen riced cauliflower (you can use whatever small, hardy vegetables you like, this is just what I can eat)

-herbs and spices of your choice

-1/4 tspn of baking soda (optional, but helps with browning)

-roughly 3.5 lbs of boneless skinless chicken thighs

-2 cups chopped leafy greens (I use either arugula, bok choy or napa cabbage, but literally anything works)

-about 4 cups rolled oats

-salt to taste

-optional pinch of sugar

Instructions:

1.) Turn on rice cooker. If you have one like mine, hold it down to meet the weight requirement and switch to cook.

2.) Add your oil, then add cauliflower and salt + herbs + optional baking soda.

3.) Open and salt chicken, then place in the pot. Stir until everything is covered in cauliflower + herbs, then cover and let sit for 20 minutes. (If using a leafy green with a hard stem, add stems now.)

4.) Stir thoroughly, until browned bits at bottom are evenly distributed and chicken has started shredding. Add your leafy greens, then stir in oats in two batches with an additional pinch of salt. Keep stirring until all oats are damp, adding up to 1/2 cup water if needed.

5.) Cover and let cook for at least 10 to 15 minutes. Stir and serve, or package in Tupperware/ziplock.

Variations I’ve made:

-2 tbs minced ginger + 1/4 cup mint for herbs. I used napa cabbage and bok choy for my greens, and 1/2 a cup of the oats was replaced with homemade cranberry granola.

-1 sprig of rosemary + 5 leaves of fresh sage + 6 sprigs of fresh thyme for herbs. Used some very spicy arugula for my greens and served with cranberry sauce.

Notes:

This recipe is for whoever needs it, and all I have is one request:

Please don’t offer me suggestions.

I’m aware what I’ve done is pretty bland, but there are severe dietary restrictions interfering with what was once a thriving spice cabinet. Tell other folks your ideas, help each other out, etc. just don’t say that I should cook it differently bc that’s a block for my own sake.

On a more positive note, the main reason why this is formatted the way it is is that, honestly, it’s the way I’ve always preferred to cook. Give me my base recipe, a couple fill-in-the-blanks, and then suggestions so that I can start thinking. You can add aromatics, swap out the cauliflower, etc. Do whatever you want, just eat a thing! :D

[august-rivers]

CHARACTER INFORMATION:

full name: august graham rivers

nickname(s): auggie, gus, grammy

pronouns & gender: he/him, cis man

sexuality: hpansexual

age: twenty-six

relationship status: single

birth date: june 4 1997

birth place: new york, new york

time in town: two months since march, 2024

occupation: software developer

parents: logan & sarah rivers

siblings: sammy rivers, logan rivers, & skylar rivers

personality: insecure, intelligent, reserved & savvy

pet: none

APPEARANCE:

celebrity doppelgänger: jacob elordi

height: 6'5"

hair color: brown

eye color: dark brown

FAVORITES:

color: navy blue

food: general tso’s chicken

non-alcoholic beverage: diet dr. pepper

alcoholic beverage: downeast cider

season: autumn

candle scent: cranberry mandarin

book: addicted to you

video game: call of duty

tv show: anything hgtv

animated tv show: king of the hill

movie: anything marvel

holiday movie: christmas with the kranks

disney movie: hercules

pixar movie: the incredibles

disney original movie: minute men

candy: sour patch kids

chocolate candy: reeses peanut butter cups

Fruit: watermelon

Vegetable: broccoli

cuisine to eat: homemade macaroni and cheese

cuisine to make: anything frozen

genre of music: pop

artist: dua lipa

song: jaded by miley cyrus

BIOGRAPHY:

tw; drugs

Being adopted was never something that bother August. As far as he knew, the family that he grew up with was his real family whether they were blood or not. Of course when he was young, he thought that everyone was truly family but then he learned that the world worked differently than that yet it still didn’t change the way he thought about the siblings that he grew up with. His biological parents were a young couple who were addicts and weren’t ready for a child and that’s how he ended up in foster care before ending up with his forever family. 

When he was adopted into the family, that’s when he met Sammy. The two of them were connected to one another in a way that nobody was able to understand. They were hanging out with each other and doing things together that made a lot of people think that they were biological siblings. Auggie was never able to explain it but the safety he felt when he was with Sammy was something special to him. 

Being a wiz kid in class, a lot of people tended to pick on August. He wasn’t geared towards athletics and that painted a target on his back alone. He went to a school where being an athlete was very important and still he remained himself. He was pushed into a number of lockers and called multiple names, but it’s not something that ever got to him. At least not in high school. August excelled in math and science and he decided that he wanted to pursue a career in the computer world and that’s how he managed to get a full ride to NYU into their computer technology program. 

It was no shocker that at the end of high school, August graduated at the top of his class and he was the valedictorian. College was completely different for him though. He wasn’t sure if it was just the atmosphere or his lack of caring what others thought of him but he felt a sort of solace with his nerd buddies. He made a friend in school, named Sadie and they became close to the point that others thought that the two of them were together romantically. It was the only other person, other than Sammy, that August felt at comfort with as he geeked out on current events and what was going on in their industry. 

After graduation, August decided to stay in New York because it was a city that meant so much to him and he knew that there is where he wanted to build his career. While he was working in a random office job, he was approached by a coworker who was starting his own software and he wanted August to come join him in Blue Harbor, Illinois. He felt honored, scared, and a million other things but he knew that this was the opportunity to do what he needed to do. He decided to quit his job and he joined in on his friends starter up company and hasn’t looked back since. 

[duomaxwellandducks]

Explain your fear of orange juice. It seems like you have good reasons for this

yeah i was pretty sure at least one person was going to ask about this but i DO have reasonings

i have this fear of it being those mac and cheese flavoring packets mixed with milk or water or smth. i just take a sip and i need a moment to reassure myself that it isnt just cheese sauce. it never is but when i take a second sip im like "are you SURE it isnt cheese sauce?" like no it isnt but i get scared whenever i see it now. its even worse with pulp because then i start thinking that its a clump of cheese powder.

what even is pulp? you're telling me that in my orange juice there is just CLUMPS? in the juice? and if i dont want clumps i have to purchase No-Pulp Orange Juice but why should i even have to? why is pulp INCLUDED? ive never heard of lemon juice with pulp or cranberry juice with pulp. ITS STUPID AND UNSETTLING.

why is it opaque? like seriously, whats up with that color. no other juice is opaque like that. like dark grape juice isnt opaque its just dark but orange juice is LIGHT. SO WHY DOES IT LOOK SOLID? i cant even tell if its frozen or if its liquid or if its cheese. it all boils down to cheese.

its something about the flavor. like in lemon juice it tastes exactly like lemons. in apple juice its reminiscent of apples. in artificial grape juice, it tastes absolutely nothing like grapes. but in orange juice? it starts off like "oh this is oranges!" but theres just a lil something off and i dont know what. pesticides? other fruit? cheese? I DONT KNOW WHATS HAPPENING WITH ORANGE JUICE HELP.

[cookie-run-kingdom-story]

Might of the Ancients

(Additional screenshots from Royal Mike!)

Pure Vanilla Cookie

Sick Cookie: *cough cough cough...* Distressed Cookie: Why are you, so sick, insisting on coming along...! Pure Vanilla Cookie is simply treading the path of a pilgrim on his own! Distressed Cookie: What's the point of following him...! Perhaps, it's the time to go back now. Sick Cookie: Physical suffering is nothing compared to the suffering of not being understood... Sick Cookie: Pure Vanilla Cookie is someone who can understand and care for such pain... Distressed Cookie: What are you saying! In the end, each Cookie's suffering is their own! Distressed Cookie: (Crumbling Cookies, incomplete Cookies, not-so-sweet Cookies... Why must we suffer so?) Distressed Cookie: (Can't all beings of dough be happy?)

Pure Vanilla Cookie: Everyone, I'm going to take a short rest here. How are you faring? Distressed Cookie: Pure Vanilla Cookie... Sick Cookie: Pure Vanilla Cookie...! Please pray for me so that I may be able to overcome my sickly dough and live another day! Distressed Cookie: ...Pure Vanilla Cookie. Will we all be able to find happiness? Pure Vanilla Cookie: ... Pure Vanilla Cookie: That is the truth I myself strive to find... That is why I will accept the 12 Trials of the Sugar-Free Road. Pure Vanilla Cookie: I hope that we will find the answers at the end of this path. Pure Vanilla Cookie: (Will I be able to find the strength to embrace all those in pain...? No, I simply must!)

Pure Vanilla Cookie: This light… this strength… Is it the strength given to those who have completed their trials…? Pure Vanilla Cookie: But I am aware. True enlightenment does not lie in strength itself. Perhaps I have been bestowed this strength because of that realization precisely. Pure Vanilla Cookie: For everyone who believed in me, for the world that granted me this power… Pure Vanilla Cookie: No matter what happens, I will stand by you…!

Hollyberry Cookie

The Roar of the Dragon: Graah, AAAARGH! Hollyberry Cookie: Hold it…! Arrgh-! Hollyberry Cookie: Argh, did it get away…! Hollyberrian: Ho-Hollyberry Cookie! Hollyberry Cookie: The dragon escaped! Was that the 87th… no, the 88th time! Don’t worry! I’ll hunt it down and defeat it! Hollyberrian: Well- it’s just- a herd of banana crocodiles appeared in front of the Cranberry Estate! I think the dragon entered when the fence was broken!! Hollyberry Cookie: What?!! Then we have to go defeat them straight away! Hollyberrian: The thing is… The Cranberry Family refused! On the contrary, they said they would not forgive any other Berry families who invade the manor! Hollyberry Cookie: What!? Hollyberry Cookie: This is no time to be fighting among ourselves…! Isn’t there something we can do? Hollyberry Cookie: I’m telling you, what we need right now is a bond! Hollyberry Cookie: (Alright! The once scattered Berry family that’s become one needs a passionate heart and will to share joy and sorrow!)

Hollyberry Cookie: Everyone! Thank you for trusting me and following my lead! Hollyberry Cookie: Under the banner of this Berry Union, all Berry estates have become one! Hollyberry Cookie: Berry or no berry, it doesn’t matter! Anyone willing to share a glass of berry juice is a friend of mine! Hollyberry Cookie: And to the Hollyberry Union… No, to all in the Hollyberry Kingdom! I hereby declare that I will always take up the shield and lead the way for my friends! Hollyberry Cookie: Alright! Cheers!!!!

Dark Cacao Cookie

Whoo--

Dark Cacao Cookie: (Black lightning and dark clouds… What’s next, a blizzard that freezes even your breath?) Dark Cacao Cookie: (The scale of anomalies is growing. The Cookies in the Frozen Snowfield are dying one by one.) Dark Cacao Cookie: (It’s only a matter of time before the anomaly spreads across the continent… Surely the cause must be somewhere in the center.) Dark Cacao Cookie: Am I left no choice but to go alone…

Reluctant Cookie: Ooh, so you’ve come because you’re curious about the end of this continent? Dark Cacao Cookie: No. I simply came here to investigate the anomalies that are occurring on the continent. Reluctant Cookie: Weather anomalies? There’s nothing like that! This land is cold, barren, and rough as always! Dark Cacao Cookie: More and more villages are being affected by the dark clouds and blizzards. Reluctant Cookie: Oh? What’s that sound? Heheheh!! Well, that can’t be helped! What can mere Cookies like us do! Dark Cacao Cookie: Seems like you know something… Reluctant Cookie: It’s not about what you know, it’s what you see! Didn’t you notice? That’s a dragon! Reluctant Cookie: For three days and three nights, two dragons fight for dominance! What a wonderful, beautiful, and fascinating thing! Reluctant Cookie: On the day this is settled, this land will become the land of the dragons! Grrrrrr… Reluctant Cookie: Ah… The dark clouds have spread… How beautiful it is… Reluctant Cookie: Wait, where are you guys going!? Surely you aren’t going to find those dragons?! Dark Cacao Cookie: (Does he not see the Cookies dying the* black lightning and bitter cold?)

*actual text

Reluctant Cookie: Wait up! After all, there is no more hope on this land! Don’t interfere with their fight! Dark Cacao Cookie: …I was a fool for hesitating. Dark Cacao Cookie: (What I need… No, what the Cookies need right now is firm determination to do their absolute best!) Dark Cacao Cookie: Get out of the way. Disturb me and you’ll be cut down!

Dark Cacao Cookie: I saw someone frozen in despair, who ended up crumbling away. Dark Cacao Cookie: I saw someone who said there is no longer hope on this land. Dark Cacao Cookie: However… We do not live bececause* there is hope. There is hope because we live.

*actual text

Dark Cacao Cookie: So I made a decision. Dark Cacao Cookie: This for* the Cookies who cry out for hope.

*actual text

Dark Cacao Cookie: Remain silent! Hope comes to the Cookie that endures!

[linzsaw]

My Monthly Favs What’s in my cup:

Every morning I drink iced coffee made from my one & only Nespresso machine. The past few months I can’t get enough of the double espresso blend, and then I add a bit of whole milk (happy cows only) and sweet cream. I can’t find anything better from Starbucks or anywhere else. Sometimes if I’m craving a hot drink, I’ll head to Dutch Bros for a hot Carmelizer and it is totally worth the cringy 9 minute forced convo with the DB crew. I also start my day with electrolytes, currently in the watermelon flavor. It’s surprisingly really delicious but I miss the Electrolyte Synergy blend that I was drinking for a long time, which has been sold out for almost a year now. :’)

What’s on my plate:

Dinner lately has been the laziest in America. After our trip, Drew & I either have the same ole chicken, rice and veggies, a spicy “mexican bowl” or some form of pasta, usually with Raos Arriabatta sauce. This week we’ve been stuffing our faces with Trader Joe’s frozen meals. We promise to be better next month, but we are really exhausted and the last thing we feel like planning are meals. However, for the last week of December we actually have some things planned for the holiday weekend. On Friday, we’re hitting up the town as we do every year to walk around and see the lights, and find festive little bars to try out new Christmas cocktails. We plan to spend Christmas with just the two of us. For Christmas Eve we are making our annual corn beef, cabbage and carrots because apparently we are super Irish (confirmed by 23&me which btw leaked all my genes to hackers). On Christmas we are having tri-tip, garlic & butter brussel sprouts, and mashed potatoes. The Christmas cookies we’re making this year include White Chocolate Cherry Shortbread cookies, Peanut Butter Blossoms, & Holly Leaves. Okay and now that I’ve told you all that, the Christmas cocktails we decided on this year are The Mistletoe Kiss (a vodka, soda water, rosemary & cranberry drank) and Bad Santa White Russians. I also heard that Moon X Pinot Noir from Trader Joes was really good and lately the Redvolution just isn’t doing it for me.  Let me know if you want any of these recipes, ladies. I will make sure to find GF, DF, and V options. 

What’s on my bookshelf:

I’ve finished two of the Colleen Hoover books, and now I’m reading another one of hers called Verity. It’s kinda depressing but that’s kinda the vibe as of late so I’m into it. 

What’s in my playlist:

We love the Sia Christmas album. It’s so fun and happy. Believe it or not, Andy introduced me to it lol. It’s so good!! Other songs I’ve been into are I remember everything by Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves. It reminds me of a family member rn which is very depressing to me. Fun to cry to. Bubble - STAYC, Surround Sound - JID 21 Savage, Baby Tate, Adora Hills - Doja Cat. 

What I’m up to:

Making our house into a winter wonderland of lights. Watching hella hallmark movies. Being seriously lazy, not working out or eating healthy. Walks with Snoop around the park. Mandala scratch off nightscapes. Reading at 3am when I was jetlagged. I had a sleep study this month too, no sleep apnea for me, back to mouth taping! It really does help with quality of sleep for me. You should try it! Also magnesium spray on my feet (shout out to Aly). This has helped with my restless leg syndrome that we’ve all experienced. This weekend, we’re making all our foods and cocktails, going downtown, driving around with hot choc to look at lights, and heading up to Rocky Mountain to hike a bunch of mountains. 

Skincare Saviors:

My skin gets so dry in Colorado, its TERRIBLE. And now that I’m saving for a house, I had to break up with my amazing esthetician, who by the way I stole this template from. I’m obsessed with Dermlogica thanks to her. I use a miscellar water if I wore any make-up. If not, I just double clease with my face wash. In the AM I’ll use my Rosehip Triple C+E Firming  Oil, followed by COSRX snail mucin essence, and a magical mix of calm water gel and intensive moisture balance. 

Love you long time,

Li